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  1. In Memory of LAJ_FETT: Please share your remembrances and condolences HERE

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

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Bravo, Sep 3, 2017.

  1. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 29, 2005
    IC: Jengleheimer Voss ‘aka Jingle’
    Imperial Star Destroyer Darkest Night, Commodore's Ready Room

    "You may tell him thank you from the Commodore," Englewood said with a smile, then extended a hand, "Please, sit. I have two questions for you. The first, more important then the second."

    "Of course Commodore." he simply stated with a nod as his own face turned serious. He wondered why the man had wanted a datapad, but he was supposing it likely had to do with what would follow these questions. Taking the proffered seat he accepted a water bulb from the Commodore as they got comfortable for whatever was to follow.

    "Well, three things, Mr. Voss," Peter corrected himself, "First, the Dalyrake is perfect. If its not cooked just right, fear not, I'll just be dead in the morning," the Commodore smiled, then continued, "Your leg. I would imagine the crudeness of its design is a reflection of your near-human station within the Empire, not a reflection of your service to the Empire in its own right. As such, aside from any objections, I would like to offer you a better replacement. And with my need for your services beyond the kitchen----my third question later---I think a recommendation put in by me would not fall on deaf ears. But, the option, I leave to you. Your response, Mr. Voss?"

    Listening to the Commodore's words were a bit of an eye opener. At least he knew his eyes were more open. "I. .." was as much as he was able to get out before the ship decided to interrupt the second question although his own mind was still running through what the Commodore could need of him beyond the ship. Nothing very pleasing came to mind, but merely those things that needed to be done.
    The vibration was quickly followed by the Imperial Siren and the Commodore's own Ready Room was basked in a red glow to indicate an emergency. The Commodore was quick to active his comms, "Report," he said calmly as chaos flew around his world.

    Duke's voice came back over the comms, "Interior denotation, primary hanger bay. I'm waiting for confirmation from the Hanger Chief, but first security team reports flowing in indicates a thermal detonator was in one of the escape pods."

    "And how did any weapons get past our scanners?" Englewood shared a look with Voss, an Army veteran he was sure was asking the same question.

    "Hold traffic," Duke said suddenly; Englewood could hear the officer put his hand over the mike and the muffled tones of another conversation. Then Duke came back, "That was an update from the hanger, Commodore. Confirmed on all previous, add loss of partial power and most gravity in rear starboard quadrant of main hanger bay. At least two confirmed Stormtroopers KIA with several others wounded. Chief Shinzon is securing other escape pods and has the scanner tech in binders being escorted to the brig."

    Englewood rolled his eyes. He would had thought Shinzon would have more follow-through then that! "Captain Totter, secure the Star Destroyer. Alert all nearby commands of our situation and kill the alarms; downgrade us to Yellow Alert. Our hanger bays are closed until further notice; no one leaves or lands without my direct permission. I'll deal with Chief Shinzon. Ready Room clear."

    Jingle stifled a small grin that tried to spread on his face at the exchange, but knew it didn't really matter. Lives had been lost, Imperial lives as well as the integrity of the ship had been accosted, all sorrowful things, but there was humor just below the surface to his eyes. Then again for the job he used to do, and that he was being trained to do before his injury, he was often beyond the edge of what was normally good for the Empire as a piece and rather what was as a whole. Sometimes you had to bomb an Imperial and frame a Rebel to stop them from bombing someone that actually mattered.

    Englewood turned to Voss, "Chef, grab your field gear and stuff it in a bag. Change out into a rag-tag set of clothes, clear of Imperial markings. Check with security, grab a blaster rifle and whatever other weaponry you think a rebel soldier would carry. Your with me in the forward shuttle hanger in twenty minutes. I'll brief you on the way. Dismissed."

    After Voss left, he began to make a mental check list as he raised his own small datapad and sent a message. {KITCH. Grab the culinary ditch set and deliver it to the hanger.} After sending the message he went through a mental list of whomever they had had to deliver meals to in the ships prisons that had never. . .well they had never walked out. Out of that list he knew which one he needed to steal the clothes of, or rather appropriate them as he didn't have a proper outfit of his own. All it would require was a quick talking to the security at the station keeping evidence lockup.

    Unfortunately Shinzon would not be available to answer any calls to expedite matters, but the fact he was acting by order of the Commodore meant the main chain of command should keep things moving smoothly. Once dressed as a rough and tumble freighter pilot kit, add a hip blaster and slightly out of mint condition confiscated weapon he would check over should complete the ensemble. Well that and adding a couple of thermal detonators apparently. Add a little muss to his hair, luckily his shaggy face was just edging out of typical Imp he wouldn't need to mess with it at all. The low grade prosthetic would work in his favor as well. Everything else should be in the leather messenger bag he would be having delivered.

    TAG: Bravo, Bardan_Jusik (tangentially)
     
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  2. Bravo

    Bravo Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 10, 2001
    IC: Master Sergeant DW-418121 (Animal)
    Fire Support Base Charlie; Lepsawn 1-9 (Neglected City)


    As Logan Grimnar pealed off one way---and Animal another after a nod of respect between both----after the briefing from Major Hardneck, the Master Sergeant was walking through the open central area that linked the whole base together, when Face came walking up with that usual swagger as he lazily put a hand around Animal's shoulders and checked where Logan last was, clear out of ear shot.

    "Okay Master Sergeant," Face said with his usual relaxed and fluid vocabulary, "You need to let your boy here in on the dirt for our new Captain Grimnar. Are the rumors true? Is he going to work out? Does he have the balls to do the job?"

    "Trooper," Animal replied, "What are we in? High school or the military?"

    A new voice entered the conversation as Eyes came alongside Animal's other side, his mouth full of food as he spoke, "With all of these drama queen Stormtroopers? Please, Sergeant, you should know better. We put the d in drama."

    Face chuckled, taking his hand off of Animal's shoulders and snapping his hands together in a joyful response, "Just don't let the Old Man hear that talk, Eyes! Or you'll be pealing potatoes for a week!"

    "Well," Animal said, "If you two idiots want to know about the Captain," Animal said as the trio came along a AT-ST's leg, which had the top head cockpit being worked on by two mechanics above, "It seems like the rumors were true. I wouldn't cross him, I'll tell you two that now. He likes his drink."

    "Does he have the killer's eyes?" Face asked, "Rumor had it in the Battalion, that he killed one of his own men during a firefight."

    Animal looked at Face hard, "Who doesn't have killer's eyes in this Battalion? Wheels up in one hour. Get your head on straight, Trooper."

    As the Master Sergeant walked away, Eyes looked at Face, "Well, you pissed him off."

    "What did I say?" Face asked.

    Eyes shrugged, "I don't know."


    TBC
    OOG: @Master Vo'Un'Var ; feel free to continue with your post as desired. I'm going to continue mine tomorrow ---having a mild case of writer's block. I know what I want to write, its just failing me at the moment. [face_beatup]
     
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  3. Sith-I-5

    Sith-I-5 Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Aug 14, 2002
    IC: Flight Lieutenant Baille Harte, Alex Qipao19 (loyal npc), Surgeon-Commander Debgate, , Main Hangar
    Location: Darkest Night, orbit over Lepsawn 1-9


    Harte's pace faltered at the loud retort of a discharged blaster behind her, and she skidded to a halt, turning in time to see a scanner tech being hauled away by Security!

    What the heck? Did the tech go crazy and discharge a weapon?

    The loud sound of solid metal on solid metal behind her, drowned out the screams from casualties in front of her, where she could see Debgate's tall figure striding into the midst of the chaos, stretching a hand towards and directing a visible shower of blue particles down over a casualty, as one was selected here, another there.

    The first of the black, lozenge-like medical coccoons were being floated into the hangar from both sides, bracketted by additional medics, pulled in from the closest decks.

    Nodding to herself that the medical situation was being taken care off, she turned and continued sprinting through the line of ships parked towards the back of the bay, and steered towards the far corner, spying a floating metal crate with prominent Seinar logos on the sides, aloft a metre of the polished black flooring, and the still nose-down assault shuttle.

    The ship was still enough that she guessed it was being held in place by an internal tractor beam. Hangar Control would need two or more to straighten the thing out, but she figured that the rest were occupied with the escape pods outside.

    Baille leapt up to the crate, put both hands on it, and pulled both knees up under her so that she could plant both feet on it and push off to help her reach the ramp which was the shuttle's roof.

    The crate was already rolling forwards from her contact, so she pushed off hard, diving for the polished grey-white Telgorn craft, the crate dropping slowly to the deck while she got hands and knees onto the shuttle, feeling the impact bang her knees, but thankfully buffered by the thick ryon of the flightsuit.

    Knowing that she did not have the benefit of gravity to hold her in place, apart from the miniscule amount afforded by the vessel itself, she grappled for handholds, and rapidly pulled herself up the craft, aiming for the spot where she would be able to lean over the edge, and hit the entry door controls.

    Her helmet, attached to her by the oxygen tubes, got in her way when she least wanted it to, and when she spied through the auburn tresses floating around her face and getting in her mouth, that the bacta was starting to lift out of the helmet, she gently headered it back in, and continued on all fours to climb up the roof.

    The pilot quickly got herself in position, left hand gripping the roof edge, with her head close to it, whilst she stretched her right down to the door controls, punching it with the meaty part of her fist, the external airlock door humming open beneath her.

    "Flight Lieutenant Baille Harte." burst into her ear, from the comlink adhered to her left wrist.

    Recognising the voice of their legendary ace, and the Darkest Night's current Second Officer, Lieutenant Enoch Steadfast, she wanted to say that she was a little busy right now, but he had given her another chance, after suckering her into a state of complacency during that rescue mission, laying out his plan, and asking her if she had any questions, any questions at all.

    She'd been fine with his plan, but had asked him why he'd chosen a pegleg, of all things. That it must drive the crewers on the bridge to distraction.

    Apparently, the word "any" meant something different on Duro.

    "Harte."

    "You're up in twenty minutes. Report to the forward shuttle bay."

    "Yes Sir. I'm-"

    "Pick your best wing pilot as a second. Come prepared for some ground pounding as well. Steadfast clear."

    The comlink went silent, and she frowned to herself as she manouvered her legs off the roof whilst keeping a hand grip, and swung herself into the shuttle airlock, bending her knees to avoid the impact, then hit the controls to seal the outer door, and open the inner one.

    She called Alex as she stepped into the main compartment, packed with empty zero-gee spacetrooper armour, their domed heads staring creepily forwards with blank, deepset eye holes.
    "Alex, we've got an op'. Lieutenant Steadfast just called me."

    "Did you mention his leg?"

    "When are you going to let that go?" She retorted, turning her back on the armour and heading to the sealed cockpit. "No, I didn't mention his leg."

    "You sure? You know how impulsive you are."

    Baille walked along the crescent of control panels in front of the command chair, flicking on toggles on various places to get some power going within the craft, coloured buttons on other panels lighting up. "Black!" She used the first half of her partner's call sign, 'Black Ice', after the vast supply container vessel of his first tours. Or the inclement terrain condition that could make AT-STs do the splits. "Look, do you want to hear what the mission is or not?"

    "Yeah, alright. Tell me."

    Baille eased herself into the command chair, having to jump slightly to get into it." We have to report to the Forward Hangar in twenty minutes, well, seventeen now. We'll be escorting the Commodore, and hitting targets in space, and on the ground."

    "On the ground?" Alex echoed, uncertainty lacing his tone. "We'd need a Bomber for that; the Phantom is only armed with lasers."

    "I know that." She retorted testily, taking control off the shuttle. Hangar Control would notice that, and cut the tractor, which she would feel through the yoke, and the seat on which she sat. "Steadfast did not give me a chance to say anything."

    "And you wonder why."

    She said nothing, clenching her jaw as she set the repulsors to attract themselves down towards the deck, then pulled back on the control yoke with her right hand to bring the nose up, and the back, encrusted with IA/4 Fusual Thrust Reactors, down.

    "Forwarding the comm call to you, in a sec'. Harte, clear."

    Tag: Laine_Snowtrekker, Bardan_Jusik
     
  4. Bravo

    Bravo Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 10, 2001
    IC: Master Sergeant DW-418121 (Animal)
    Fire Support Base Charlie; Lepsawn 1-9 (Neglected City)

    Almost an hour later....

    Song: Fortunate Son


    Fire Support Base Charlie was a fury of activity as the ground shook underneath with the advancement of the mighty AT-ATs towards their target. Animal came out of the stairway---his hand cuffing the underlip of his helmet---leading up to the roof, where a IDT (Gunship) waited, its engines warming up. Across multiple other roof tops, 3 other IDT (Gunships) and 4 regular Imperial Dropship Transports did similar warm-ups with troops from Joker Platoon boarding them from roof-tops.

    Animal looked to the Flag of the Galactic Empire, lazily sailing in a gentle wind that often times allowed it to cling to the pole which anchored it to the roof's edge which Animal stood on. The flag was a bit roughed up, showing signs of use and battle experience.

    "Master Sergeant," said Tech---he already had his helmet on---as Second Squad's ranking NCO approached, "Trooper DW-418124 is still recovering from the blaster hit earlier in the morning. Captain Grimnar is taking his spot."

    Animal nodded; he then turned to Grimnar's imposing physical figure, "Welcome to Second Squad, Captain," Animal then turned to the gathered squad outside the IDT and barked out an order, "Gather around!"

    As the troopers loosely gathered, Animal looked at them all, "HQ gave Major Hardneck the run-around. Your helmet HUD will have the updated battle information. Instead of a combined full frontal assault from the East, they're redeploying Attack Group C to assist another operation with the Legion. We're expecting C Group to be 20 minutes behind the rest of the assault and coming in from the South-East, but I would expect more time delay. Both Attack Groups A & B will each assault from the East in a modified pincer movement; the walkers will encircle the massed enemy mechanized force waiting out in the field East of the city, then converge and push them back into the city. We're dealing with mostly city thugs here with no real combat experience. Most of them will run by the time they see the Walkers. Our mission is the same: take care of the anti-aircraft sites and conduct as needed special operations. Any questions?"

    Those gathered shook their heads or verbally said no; Animal nodded, "Mount up!"

    Putting on his helmet, Animal signaled for the Captain to get on the Gunship first, then the Master Sergeant tapped the pilot up front on the shoulder and gave him a thumbs up; the pilot nodded.

    As the engines flared to life with power on the Gunship, Animal watched below as the IDT lifted off of the roof top---as did the other ones---and zoomed off from East to West, towards the distant Residential-Economical Site One. Further beyond Site One lay the downtown landscape of the city's core.


    **********

    Song: Ride of the Valkyries

    GAG Lead, Nighthawk One

    Animal hadn't bothered to put his helmet back on as he looked out the side-door (where he sat on the edge) and saw both Attack Groups A & B advance below over the the mile approach as the IDT & Gunships flew overhead, then banked South to circle around from the South-East edge.

    The sound of battle could already be heard as artillery from the support base rang out in response to the enemy's own artillery. Even in the Gunship, Animal could hear the communications chatter from the various pilots from the inside of his own helmet that he kept on his lap.

    [..."This is GAG Gunship Lead, Nighthawk One, heading two-point-three on vector South...]

    [...Raptor Two, watch that Triple A....]

    [...Nighthawk Three, dip down below that Triple A....]

    [....Gunships, take the lead. Clear out those Triple A for us. Raptors will follow...]

    [....Watch your corners, Nighthawks. Its going to get tight...]

    Animal looked out as the city landscape loomed even closer.

    They all knew their jobs; as the first rockets shook the IDT Gunships as they flew out of their holders and towards the first enemy positions, the Master Sergeant looked towards the Captain, "Captain, give the order!"

    Below the buildings were getting closer; every IDT and their crew had a mission. For Nighthawk One, they were to cover the approach of IDT Raptor One as they headed towards the second tallest North-most building; after deploying forces there, Nighthawk One would continue to the tallest North-most building near the mountains with IDT Raptor Two, where Major Hardneck thought the enemy HQ would be.

    Once clearing a landing for Raptor One, Nighthawk One and Raptor Two were heading towards the roof of the main building. Instead of a frontal assault, the Gunship hovered up the side of the building, the side gunners and Stormtroopers taking shots as they could at enemy tangos in the windows.

    As Nighthawk One cleared the edge of the roof, it opened up fire on the unsuspecting AAA battery there, destroying it to bits with rocket-fire and the side gunners. Raptor Two approached, carrying Stormtroopers not from the platoon, but from the Legion. As it began it's landing approach, Nighthawk One provided overlook.

    "You see anything?" shot out Eyes.

    "Negative!" Animal replied, adding, "Roof is----"

    Suddenly Nighthawk One was pushed off to the side, warning alarms going off. To their side, Raptor One was a fiery ball of falling debris and Stormtroopers falling out of the IDT and onto the roof or missing the roof and falling to their deaths below to the ground. Up above, a Y-Wing Starfighter shot overhead.

    "Where the hell is our air-cover? That's not fair!" complained Business.

    "Shut your mouth and get off the Gunship!" Animal ordered, all but pushing the drama queen out the door as the Gunship attempted a low hover over the roof, "GO! GO! GO!" Animal barked over his helmet comm.

    Hitting the ground, Animal looked around for the Captain as the Gunship flew off, saving it's own skin as the Y-Wing was circling around.

    "Captain! Orders, sir?"

    Animal asked as he signaled his squad to secure the roof and check for survivors from Raptor Two, which had fiery debris and bodies littered all over the roof. In the distance towards the East, the planned Imperial assault was going off without a hitch. Although here, deep inside enemy territory, they were now out-numbered, out-gunned, and had no air support as the IDTs and IDT Gunships were retreating under orders because of the Y-Wing threat. There appeared to be at least 2 Y-Wings circling the city, although they kept clear of the primary assault for now.


    TAG Master Vo'Un'Var
     
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  5. Laine_Snowtrekker

    Laine_Snowtrekker Jedi Grand Master star 5

    Registered:
    Jul 8, 2003
    IC: Senior Lieutenant Gwen Levric
    Hangar, Darkest Night

    Before Debgate could answer Gwen's protests regarding medical care, Gwen's comm buzzed. Totter. "Lieutenant Levric, report to the bridge immediately. Captain Totter clear of comms."

    Back to the bridge? When she hadn't interrogated anyone yet? Perhaps something would be delaying the rest of the escape pods, but that would be a security matter. Shinzon would inform her when she and her team were needed for the interrogations.

    As her feet moved her back into the turbolift, Levric flicked through the updates her team had been spooling into her wrist display. Sergeant Colbea and the others had been busy collating information about the Golan II, as she'd requested. She'd have to start ordering them to take sleeping shifts if the work continued for any length of time--it would not do for any of them to be off their games due to sleep deprivation.

    The turbolift slid to a stop and Levric walked out into the corridor outside the bridge and then into the room. "Reporting as ordered, Captain," she said to Totter.

    TAG: Bravo
     
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  6. galactic-vagabond422

    galactic-vagabond422 Force Ghost star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 11, 2009
    IC: Natalia Markova
    Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night

    "You ask too many questions and you do not listen," Natalia furrowed her brow. She listened perfectly well, she could recall each of his words without error. What she lacked was context, rationale, understanding. His answer did little to elucidate her, what was she supposed to look for, what was about to change. Why did she need to stand out from the crowd? Did she not already, at least a little. She was already different, her mind worked differently from others. It helped her in her job, her service to the Empire. As well how could she 'look beyond' what was right in front of her? She knew he was being metaphorical but, what more was there than the Empire, her service to it and preserving its order.

    She opened her mouth to speak again when the alarms silenced her causing her to wince and screw her eyes shut. Her hands clamped over her ears and a soft pained sound left her throat. She hated alarms, hated loud noises. Her eyes open to see the old man walking away. As much as she wanted to continue to question him, continue to probe until she fully understood what he was talking about but. He'd already left and she was being called back to her station.

    Her face still creased in pain, hands still over her ears she made her way back to the bridge and to her station.

    She hoped that the alarms would be shut off soon.

    TAG: The Vanguard Bravo
     
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  7. Bravo

    Bravo Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 10, 2001
    IC: Captain Duke P. (Patrick) Totter
    Bridge, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night, orbit over satellite moon of Lepsawn 1-9


    Totter's personal comlink buzzed.

    "What in hyperspace blazes," the Captain said under his breath, as he knew protocol was to reach all officers during a yellow or red alert through official ship-wide communications only (unless special circumstances made that otherwise impossible); seeing that whoever was calling him was not going to leave the busy bridge officer alone on a bridge basked in the glow of a yellow alert, Totter picked up the comlink, "Totter here."

    "HEY DUKE!" blasted the sender.

    Oh frag! Duke cursed mentally---he had forgot the comlink volume was on loud---as he quickly lowered the volume (but not before the whole bridge turned to the Captain); the veteran bridge officer straightened his uniform as he addressed the bridge, "Back to your stations!"

    Duke brought the now quitened comlink closer to his own hearing, "Repeat your last, Commodore."

    The Captain could almost see the Commodore rolling his eyes by the sound of his voice, "I was saying, is Navigational Officer Markova available?"

    "I can make it so, Commodore," Duke replied; the Captain raised his eyebrow as he could hear the background noise of Peter seemingly going through equipment and clothes as the Commodore muttered over the comm, "I found it!"
    Peter didn't seem to miss a beat, "And Communications Chief G'Spaugh?"

    Duke started to respond, but stopped himself, "Again, sir, I can make---" Duke took a breath, "---Commodore, I don't think the situation now is appropriate to test your Star Trek theory. Last time, sir, it didn't go over so well. The episode between Flight Lieutenant Harte and Lieutenant Steadfast is still widely circulated among the Mess Hall talk. Two months later, sir."

    "Yeah," Peter said, sounding strained, then relaxed with a sigh of relief, saying, "Still fits" under his breath, then adding, "I believe in second chances."

    "Sir, you kicked Ensign Burkheart off the Darkest Night after one day and recommended he never serve aboard a Star Destroyer again in his life."

    "Yes, Captain, I did. But Ensign Burkheart was an idiot. And I mean he took idiot to a whole new level."

    Duke sighed, rolling his eyes, "Agreed, Commodore."

    "Good. I would hate to have Lieutenant Steadfast relieve you of command. Now, get Markova and G'Spaugh to the Shuttle Hanger Bay immediately. Tell them to look rag-tag like Rebels, but not too desperate of a knock-off."

    Duke sighed, "Understood, Commodore. I would like it noted, sir, I think this is a really bad idea. This is not some Hollywood episode of fictional sci-fi Star Trek, where we send the whole command crew off to do other crew member missions, which is completely against every military protocol in the book. And frankly, sir, we don't have any red shirts. Who's going to die for you?"

    "Complaint noted, Captain. As for red shirts---tell G'Spaugh to put on a red shirt. She missed her qualifying blaster pistol test last month I heard. Good old fashion moving target practice will teach her to miss qualifying again."

    Duke rolled her eyes, "Understood, Commodore. I'll have them in the Shuttle Bay in twenty minutes. Duke out."

    Just then, the bridge doors opened and both G'Spaugh & Markova stepped through the doors. Perfect timing.

    "Communications Chief G'Spaugh, Navigational Officer Markova, report to the Shuttle Bay immediately. Your contact will be the Commodore himself. You have twenty minutes. Change out into something more rag-tag looking. Avoid Imperial symbols," as the two ladies departed, the Captain added to stop them, "And G'Spaugh, the Captain requested a red shirt for you. Something about missing your qualifying blaster pistol test last month?" Duke finished as a open-ended question, then added, "Dismissed."


    TAG The Vanguard ; galactic-vagabond422
     
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  8. Bardan_Jusik

    Bardan_Jusik Former Manager star 10 VIP - Former Mod/RSA

    Registered:
    Dec 14, 2009
    IC: Security Chief Cain Shinzon
    Main Hanger, ISD Darkest Night, Battle of Lespawn 1-9

    Things had just started to operate smoothly again, with the tractor beam locked onto the next pod and reeling it in when everything in the hanger bay came to a sudden stop. "Shab," Cain said to
    himself as several technicians in the bay began to cower in fear. But they had nothing to worry about from the Chief of Security, he knew that ops could have only been halted by the order of one man, and if he had halted hanger operations than that meant the Mandalorian was squarely in the crosshairs this time.

    "Security Chief Shinzon, private channel please." The call came in over the comm system in Cain's helmet. With a barely audible sigh he blinked twice complying with the order before replying without a trace of emotion in his voice. "Go for Cain." The Commodore had obviously been waiting for him fore he launched right into it. "What in Corellian Nine Hells is going on in my hanger bay, Chief of Security?" Cain made no reply, he knew when it was time to answer a question and when a superior officer was venting. This situation was the latter, for now. "Furthermore, what in a Hutt's mother are you allowing more escape pods to land when the first one blew up? If you keep putting holes in my Star Destroyer, Security Chief, I'll start putting holes in your career!" Still Cain said nothing. No explanation was required, Cain had simply been following the last order given to him by the Commodore. Now he was going to micro manage things.

    "I had a Battalion of Spacetroopers aboard this Star Destroyer, but most of them had to turn in their rocket man suits for regular Stormtrooper armor to assist the Legion planet-side and I'm not willing to risk what few I have in reserve for your mistakes. So that leaves you and your Navy Troopers. Captain Totter has the ship on lock-down. Nothing comes in, nothing comes out of those hanger bays without my direct permission. Now, I still have..." the Commodore paused for a moment "...Nine more escape pods floating in space." Cain looked to his HUD, confirming the number. "I am going to assume each and everyone is hostile and has weapons. And you should too. But I also want intelligence for our ground forces planet-side. So, Chief of Security, your going to pick your best Navy Troopers and go extravehicular. If you are successful in retrieving creditable intelligence assets from those escape pods, alive, then I will forget the hanger episode and mark it up as an escape pod engine malfunction. However, if you fail, you'll find yourself on the nearest civilian transport off my Star Destroyer and out of the military."

    EVA? Osik, Cain thought to himself.he hated going EVA. It made him sick to his stomach and reminded him all too much of going into the water. Shab, mentally cursed again, at least it wasn't going into the water. he could handle it,but he didn't like it.

    "I will be down in the hanger in twenty minutes. I would hope to see you extravehicular by then. Commodore clear of traffic."

    "As ordered." Cain replied as the Commodore cut the channel. There was no other acceptable response. Osik rolled downhill, which was why he had ordered the arrest of the scanner tech in the first place. With a nod to the others in the hanger who were looking to him he finally replied. "Right, ops in the hanger are suspended pending further review." Cain noted how the impassive stares he was getting from his naval troopers hadn't changed at that. They had to know that Cain's orders had been rescinded by someone from on high, and that meant Cain was potentially in trouble himself, but one didn't get far in the Empire by showing their inner thoughts, especially on Cain's security team. "That means we're going EVA." He somehow managed to keep his voice flat at the pronouncement though now he did notice a grimace or two from some of his men. They were no more enthusiastic than he was at the prospect of heading out there. "Zallen," he called out to one of his more capable troopers.

    [​IMG]

    "Break the Spacetrooper armor out from the Stormies armory." There was some movement from the Stormtroopers in the bay at that, but no outward refusal. "You've got five minutes to get you and your squad kitted up." He paused as a wicked smile appeared on his face, though none could see it behind his faceplate. "And bring several canisters of knockout gas with you." The gas was generally used for instances of repelling borders or even suppressing a mutiny, but the ship could spare a few canisters to secure the lifepods.

    "Right boss," the man said as he scrambled off with his squad. Meanwhile Cain checked his armor's subsystems to make sure his jetpack was primed and ready and his beskar'gam was fully sealed. Wouldn't do one bit to spring a leak while outside the safe confines of the Darkest Night. By the time all his checks were done the men had returned, now decked out in Spacetrooper gear he thought they looked ridiculous. These were security men, not whiteshells. Better if he had his own set of Imperial Supercommandos for moments like these, though knowing Imperial doctrine they would have been wasted down on the planet below. With a slight shake of his head he gave the men their orders, which also served as an impromptu comms check. "Let's go," and then he stepped through the protective atmospheric shield and out into vacuum.

    Almost immediately he felt the bile rising in his throat and he had to swallow several times to keep his composure. Checking to make sure the ten troopers had followed him, he ignited his jetpack and took up a position roughly ten meters away from the closest pod. "We'll compromise their life support system and plug in the gas." He pointed to a pair of Spacetrooper kitted up Naval Troopers. "OK, you two are up, secure the first pod." With a slight thrust Cain back away another meter or two. If the Rebels saw what was coming they might rig themselves to blow upon the attempt, or even after they had been rendered unconscious. If that were the case, better to risk the lives of those more expendable than himself.

    TAG: Bravo

    OOC: Cain's reluctance to go EVA is borrowed from Worf's same reluctance in Star Trek. Also seemed to tie in well with his fear of large bodies of water. Note: In the last game I went with the old Legends idea that jetpacks could not operate in space/vacuum. However this has been shown to not be the case in several episodes of Rebels (where both types of Mandalorian jetpacks are seen to operate in space/vacuum without issue) so I'm going with the canon presentation of their abilities going forward.
     
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  9. The Vanguard

    The Vanguard Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Registered:
    Apr 12, 2016
    Reen G'Spaugh
    Command Deck

    The pair shared no words as they made their way back to the bridge. It wasn't common for two officers to gab as they walked, so nothing was out of the ordinary. Markova kept to herself most of the time anyways. Still, Reen wondered to herself if the cryptic words shared by the creepy drunk mechanic were bothersome enough to cause problems for the navigation officer. She kept her own thoughts on the matter to herself, not really giving credence to the man despite his seemingly good intentions. The two came to the final stretch before the bridge hatch. A yellow alert sounding meant there would be no evening off, putting Reen's pre-dark yoga routine on hold for the time being.

    "Communications Chief G'Spaugh, Navigational Officer Markova, report to the Shuttle Bay immediately. Your contact will be the Commodore himself." Reen kept a straight face, despite the confusion that sounded her own internal alarms to go off. "You have twenty minutes. Change out into something more rag-tag looking. Avoid Imperial symbols," she turned to leave without hesitation. Reen followed orders well, even when they came out of left field, "And G'Spaugh, the Captain requested a red shirt for you. Something about missing your qualifying blaster pistol test last month?"

    "Sir?" G'Spaugh kept her poise before whipping back around to face the Captain at full attention. "A schedule miscommunication kept me from-" she cut herself off mid-sentence, realizing after the fact what dangerous waters she was wading into. Excuses never achieved their desired effect within the Empire, least of all aboard the Darkest Night. She knew what the Captain said and would save face before putting a bigger target on her back than a red shirt. "It will be done sir."

    "Dismissed."

    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    Communications Officer Quarters

    Reen couldn't believe what the Captain just ordered, what the Commodore just ordered. She began to change out of her uniform as her thoughts became loud words. "First yoga is cancelled along with my night off, and now I'm going on a field-op like some blaster sponge dressed in rags? Self-identifying rags to boot! The bulkhead she yelled at said nothing in return, it was a bulkhead. A flame of rage was about to spill over as she realized this was her worst day since losing her squadron months earlier. Taking her rolled up yoga mat, she fastened it to the bulkhead and began punching it with a silent fury.

    Several minutes passed as Reen finalized her tantrum. Getting dressed into what she thought resembled a rebel coward, her oldest set of civilian clothes she used to wear on shore leave were about as ragged as she could get. I would rather be suffocated by Vader than go through with this, she thought as she looked herself up and down in the mirror. "For the Empire," she said sarcastically as she readied herself and made her way to the shuttle bay.

    TAGS: Bravo galactic-vagabond422
     
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  10. galactic-vagabond422

    galactic-vagabond422 Force Ghost star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 11, 2009
    IC: Natalia Markova
    Bridge, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night

    Natalia walked side by side with Chief G'Spaugh head still swimming with what the old man said. Something was changing, that something would happen that would change her view of her life of how she saw the galaxy. So much was left hazy, unclear like coordinates missing data. She could try and work out the missing parts with what she had but, all she had with this was a single data point. It was insufficient.

    She continued to hold her hands over her ears as she entered the bridge. That was when she noticed Captain Trotter looking right at her. Painfully she uncovered her ears to hear what he was saying.

    "...Navigational Officer Markova, report to the Shuttle Bay immediately. Your contact will be the Commodore himself. You have twenty minutes. Change out into something more rag-tag looking. Avoid Imperial symbols," Natalia’s mouth hung open slightly quirked at her right side. To most others it might look like she had a stroke. What was happening? How could the Commodore Englewood give this order? What was he planning? Why did she have to change how she was dressed?

    Her head spun even more, in the span of just a few minutes she had been presented with one illogical statement, and an absurd order. What was she supposed to do. She was just a navigational officer how would dressing incongruently and without markings of her station help her do her job. As well what need of her was there in the shuttle hangar? Nothing made sense anymore and her mind couldn’t handle it.

    She wanted to scream NO, she wanted to refuse the order, it was madness. However she couldn’t reject a direct order, from a much superior officer. All she could do was turn on her heel and walk bewildered to her quarters. She didn’t even stop as G’Spaugh was given additional instructions. "And G'Spaugh, the Captain requested a red shirt for you. Something about missing your qualifying blaster pistol test last month?" If she had her mind would have been thrown into more disarray.

    She wandered, eyes still wide her hand tapping on her shoulder. It was another of her favorite viol compositions from the end of a long symphony. It was considered one of the most complicated pieces of music created for the instrument. It was long but, it brought the now stressed woman some comfort tapping out its soft melodic notes that came one after the other.

    The piece itself is the story of a bride on some barbaric planet. She was wed to a ruler who killed his wives the night of the wedding so they could not stray from him. However the woman was cunning, and an imaginative storyteller. She told this man a story on their wedding night. One of great heroes and danger ending it leaving the hero in great peril.

    When her ‘husband demanded that she continue the story she politely declined, promising to finish the story the next day. This cycle continued for over a thousand nights each story rising in excitement and danger and every night ending without resolution. The King was so enraptured with the tale that he could not kill her without knowing the end. At the end of her tale The King’s heart had changed he had fallen in love with the woman and no longer wished her dead.

    It was an interesting story but, it held little emotional significance for her. Other than the times her mother played the viol parts in the front room of their modest house in O’Pahz.

    Now it brought her comfort just tapping out the notes as they came to her mind. She reached her room just finishing the last high note that she hummed holding her hand in the correct position on her imagined viol.

    As the door closed behind her she slammed her back into the cold metal holding her head in her hands. She couldn’t disobey a direct order, though it made no sense to her she had to follow it. She had to look rag-tag, not like an imperial, if that was what the Captain meant by, avoid imperial symbols. That was a difficult thing, all Natalia had were her Imperial Uniforms. She looked at her simple well arranged footlocker. All that was there were black tunics and white undershirts that she wouldn’t dream of wearing openly. However needs must.

    She carefully removed her crisp black tunic and folded it exactly setting it on her simple bed. Her fingers lightly brushed over her rank insignia, couldn’t wear that. Looking at her right elbow she saw the start of the tattoo that she kept hidden. It was an artifact from her younger days before she joined the Imperial Navy, when she was just a student.

    She rolled up the short sleeve revealing the blooming purple flower that covered her shoulder and the green vines that flowed down her upper arm. The design was her mother’s idea, though her father insisted that it be easy to cover. Since she mostly wore clothes with sleeves, this tattoo met her father’s requirements. She never thought she would have to show this to anyone else. However it was incongruous with what she normally looks like. Tattoos were generally associated with disorganized or untidy individuals. That was when a thought occurred to her. She took out one of her other white shirts and turned it inside out. As quick as she could she started pulling the stitches out of the right sleeve of the shirt. Eventually she removed enough that she could just tear off the sleeve leaving the garment painfully asymmetrical.

    Next she had to think about her pants, her pristine black trousers were not...varied enough. She was looking to fit the definition of ‘Rag-Tag’ as she was ordered, untidy, disorganized or incongruously varied in character. No tidy person would have perfectly pressed pants, and she didn’t have the time to make them looked lived in so she went with the next best thing. Pulling out a pair she ran the front of the left leg along a sharp corner of her metal bed creating a tear. Again she gritted her teeth, defacing imperial property was cause for a demerit but, orders were orders.

    She dressed in the ‘altered’ clothes, her tattoo on full display, and left knee peeking through slightly, and boots slightly scuffed and scratched wasn't much to do about that. Moving to her fresher just to look at what she’d become. She looked at the empty spaces for the piercings she once wore. They were another thing she gave up when she joined the navy, they were not befitting a officer in His Imperial Majesty’s glorious Naval Forces. However she still had them. Digging one last time through her footlocker she found a small box closed and secured with a simple latch. She carried the plain looking container over to the refresher station and opened it with a flick of her wrist.

    Inside were various metal rings some looking like gold others silver, however she knew they were not fully made of those precious metals, they merely had the appearance of such. She began, one by one, to place the piercings were they used to be. It was a little difficult some of the holes had begun to close up and she had to break through causing her a little pain. Soon she had simple jewelry in her lip, nose and brow. Some were gold in color some sliver, the one in her nose had a synthetic green gem set into it while the rest were unadorned.

    Checking her chrono she was out of time to do anything else. Even as she saw a bottle of bright Pink hair dye now resting on top of her disheveled footlocker. She recalled those days, they weren’t that long ago when she, again at her mother’s insistence, dyed her hair pink. Her father was again very much against the idea but, somehow Natalia’s mother convinced him to let her keep the neon color in her hair.

    There was no time to even do a rush job on only a part of her hair. She did ruffle the top of her head to try and make her look a little rougher around the edges.

    Stepping out, piercings shining, tattoo displayed in all its green and purple glory, she hoped this was enough for the Commodore. She made her way towards the shuttle hangar looking to see G'Spaugh, she was dressed in what looked like civilian clothes that hadn't been washed in a day maybe two. Natalia looked at herself then to her companion.

    "Do you think I over did it?" She asked voice soft devoid of the confusion that was just behind her eyes.

    TAGS: Bravo The Vanguard

    OOC: the piece of music Natalia is referencing is "Scheherazade" by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov
     
  11. The Vanguard

    The Vanguard Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Registered:
    Apr 12, 2016
    Reen G'Spaugh
    Officer's Quarterdeck, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night

    Reen was so preoccupied with her appearance, ignoring the second looks she was getting from passing personnel, that she almost sounded an intruder alarm at the sight of Markova.

    "Do you think I over did it?" the disguised Navigation Officer asked with a soft tone in her voice.

    "Markova you look despicable." Reen replied with a smile. "Nice ink," she followed up by revealing her own family crest wrist tattoo. "Didn't know any other stuffed bridge officers had body art."

    "I wonder the nature of our predicament? These orders are high profile if the Commodore is directly involved." Reen asked openly as she began to walk towards the turbolifts.

    TAG: Bravo galactic-vagabond422
     
  12. galactic-vagabond422

    galactic-vagabond422 Force Ghost star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 11, 2009
    IC: Natalia Markova
    Officer's Quarterdeck, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night

    "Natalia you look despicable." G'Spaugh replied a smile on her features. Natalia felt a bit of pride or at the very least lacked embarrassment. She hadn't made a mistake even if it was a ridiculous order she would follow it to the letter. A flaw maybe or asset to the Empire, it was up to someone else to choose. She personally found her strict adherence rather useful. "Nice ink," the other officer continued, showing her own, much smaller tattoo on her wrist, it looked to be flora of some sort. Natalia might ask further should the opportunity present itself. "Didn't know any other stuffed bridge officers had body art."

    "I don't often have reason to mention it or show it. My father said it would be unbecoming of an Officer in the Imperial Navy to display such a breach of proper dress and grooming." She said maintaining her soft quiet tone.

    "I wonder the nature of our predicament? These orders are high profile if the Commodore is directly involved."

    A slight huff left her nose, this still didn't sit right with her, still ate at her, this order.

    "It is not our place to question our orders. Just follow them..." she quieted just a little, mind turning over the other woman's words in her mind. the only reason she could see for her to disguise herself was to initiate some ruse upon the Rebels. However, she was in no way trained or capable of subterfuge, and the Commodore knew that. One look at her record and he would know that her skills were towards Navigation and Computer Science, not theatrics. That still didn't answer, why? "However I'm curious, as to why we were chosen. Surely there are better choices."

    TAG: Bravo The Vanguard
     
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  13. Sith-I-5

    Sith-I-5 Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Aug 14, 2002
    IC: Surgeon-Commander Debgate, Flight Lieutenant Baille 'Woof!' Harte, Alex 'Black Ice' Qipao19 (loyal npc), , Main Hangar and Gamma-class assault shuttle,
    Location: Darkest Night, orbit over Lepsawn 1-9


    Debgate looked around her, dismayed, at the sight of the injured.

    As long as her mana, the renewable energy that powered her spells, held out, she could render limited aid quicker than Imperial medicine, even the more advanced military types, could, but she had nothing in her metaphysical armoury to ease pain.

    She tuned out the cacophony of screams from her patients, and the alarm that blared across the hangar, and could be heard echoing through adjacent decks, as her fellow medics came in with floating cocoons and gurneys, along with the cube-like thick-sided fabric bags that were the heavy-duty medi-kits.

    Just like some people who claimed to be able to see people's auras, so she could see anyone's health represented by a coloured bar in her mind's eye if she focussed her gaze on them for longer than a second, so she had already fired in Minor Heals to stabilise anyone whose hit points were crashing, and Spirit of Bear to bolster them for removal to sick bay.

    Now, she was grateful for the arrival of her people, dropping to their knees besides the injured, and quickly assessing the damage.

    "I HAVE STABILISED EVERYONE!" She yelled to be heard over the two-tone alarm, which then suddenly silenced. The Barbarian swayed slightly with the shock of the noise ceasing, which seemed to be a habit that she had not grown out of. "Remove all casualties to Main Medical." She referred to the largest of the multiple hospital bays aboard the star destroyer.

    Like with mess halls, a population of 33,000 needed more than the one location.

    "Yes, Commander." The medic kneeling beside the stormtrooper who had lost most of the right side of his body, and was trying to ease the man's helmet off with his gloved hands. "Ma'am, Lieutenant Harte suggested that we open the ancillary medical bay on this deck, and I have the droids doing that now."

    Deb glanced towards him. "That's a good idea. We will move the casualties there then." She glanced down at the patient the medic was working on. "Oh, I'm sorry but that one is gone, Doctor. Security Chief Shinzon euthanized him."

    The kneeling medic's gaze hardened up at her. "That-"

    "Quiet, Doctor." She ordered with a hard glance of her own. After a moment, she turned to look towards the Mandalorian. He was standing still and alone. No sign of Levric.

    After a moment, Shinzon showed a bit of animation, advising someone, "As ordered."

    That meant that he had received new instructions, and with him being Senior Staff like her, those orders could only have come from Englewood, Totter, or Steadfast.

    The man had the attention of the naval troopers and the remaining scanner techs. "Right, ops in the hanger are suspended pending further review. That means we're going EVA."

    As he issued further instructions, Deb turned back to her own responsibilities.

    She took hold of one of the black cocoons, very reminiscent of the proton torpedo cases in that Star Trek show, and pulled it down to the deck with her as she dropped to a knee beside a groaning casualty, and prepared to lift him, whilst supporting his helmeted head, into the capsule.
    "Easy there, Tiger." She reassured, smiling down into the polarised black lenses showing her reflection. "You are going to be fine. You'll be playing the tympanic pulser again in no time."

    "Really? I couldn't before." The man tried to joke.

    It felt like the wrong time to point out that all stormies looked alike with their helmets on, so she stayed silent, put an arm under his thighs, and took the strain.

    * * * *
    Gamma-class shuttle


    The fingers on her left hand dancing nimbly across a keypad of lit squares, Baille used visual scanning as well as remote sensors to ensure that the shuttle's belly turbolaser had not deployed, then, satisfied that it was still safely retracted, she used the control stick with her right hand to drop the ship the last metre till she felt the solid but soft impact under her as the ship settled.

    She applied the magnetic landing gear, which would hold the ship in place until gravity outside was restored.

    Looking through the wraparound front viewport, she could only see the rear of another shuttle, so could not see what was happening up front, with the casualties.

    Using the communicator set into the armrest of her command chair.
    "Hangar Control from Gamma Three."

    "Three, go."

    "Landed safely. Magnetic landing gear deployed."

    "Good job, Lieutenant."

    Although it had been bith easy once she had gotten inside. Baille smiled. A bit of praise went a long way. "Thanks. Okay, I need to run; I've gotten orders to meet-"

    "The Commodore, yes. Alex called us. We've already started moving your Phantom round to the forward shuttle bay."

    Harte frowned at the bay which Hangar Control identified. She had told Alex that it was the Forward Hangar, meaning the TIE Hangar.

    Her brow cleared as she remembered forwarding Lieutenant Steadfast's message. Alex would have gone by what the message said.

    "You still there?"

    The young redhead blinked. She had forgotten the channel was still open. "Sorry, yes."

    "Alex asked that you call him as soon as you can. He has an update."

    "Copy that. Thanks. Harte clear."

    The voice on the communicator, reciprocated and shut the channel.

    She called her co-pilot on her own wristlink. "Alex from Baille. What's up?"

    "I'm bringing a change of clothes to the shuttle bay."

    She lowered the wrist with the PAC20 to allow her to stare at it in confusion, then raised it again to just below her mouth. "Why?"

    "You remember Steadfast's mention of being prepared for ground pounding?"

    "Sure."

    "That doesn't mean to hit targets on the ground, Baille."

    "Really? Sounds like it does."

    "Agreed." Alex' voice, well, agreed. "Turns out it is Army slang for walking. We're going to be landing somewhere and going for a wander."

    Baille used her free hand to switch off the craft's unnecessary systems, and eased herself forward off the chair till the toes of her boots touched the floor.
    She knew how much her partner hated such activity. "Well, neither Steadfast or the Commodore know that I selected you, so don't worry; I'll pick someone else."

    "No." There was a pause on the comlink whilst Baille made her way out of the ship, sealing the cockpit door behind her. "You were told to pick the 'best wing pilot', not the 'best forced march bod'. Besides, who else is going to pronounce your callsign correctly, rather than as the bark of a Dorax Dog that's been through a divorce, and has nothing to lose?"

    Both his agreement to come with her, and his last statement, made her smile. "Thanks, 'Ice'."

    "So, get back to your quarters, use the fresher if you need to, and get changed. I'll leave your stuff on your bed. 'Ice' clear"

    * * * *
    Later...TIE Pilot Lounge

    Alex and Baille rendezvoused in the couch and armchair-filled TIE Pilots Lounge on Deck Five, one level above the hangars.

    He was in the black and whites of Imperial scout trooper armour, with the macrobinocular helmet hanging from his belt. The white armour was scuffed and no longer polished in places. But he had the white boots, elbow, shoulder and knee pads.

    Alex had shoved one of the chairs, so that he could sit with a power cord running from the torso armour to a socket in the wall, to power up the heating pack within it.

    His rifle, the usual E-11 carbine, lay on the low coffeine table in front of him on top of a fan of thin, but colourful flimsi magazines about spaceships.

    He looked up as she entered. "Have you seen the new T-16?"

    "Shut up." Harte returned, good-naturedly.

    She had gone with the feminine form of the thermal bodyglove, going for the long-sleeved, black knee-length dress, protecting her core with a black protective vest that had the S.T.A.N.G. acronym in large aurabesh across the back, and over her chest, although the front patch was obscured by her PAC 20, which had been slapped over it.

    By rights, only Coruscanti law enforcement should be wearing these, but she had connections. Well, she had dated someone with connections, anyway.

    Despite not going with the scout trooper chest armour, she did have all knee, elbow and shoulder pads, and had managed to squeeze the white pouch belt between the bottom of her vest, and where her hips started, though there was a bit of overlap. A macrobinocular helmet swung against her hip as well.

    She had gone with her off-duty black kneeboots, choosing their aesthetics over the superior sole grip of the scout boots, since the latter would look ridiculous on her bare legs.

    Her E-11 carbine was slung over her back, with its strap diagonal over her front like a diagonal bandolier.

    "You ready, Lieutenant?" She pointed to the power cord. "You all topped up?"

    "Must be up to ninety percent by now." He leaned over the armrest towards the socket, close enough to gently ease the connector out of the wall. "We're pilots; you don't think the Commodore will have us on the ground for too long, do you?"

    She turned and hit the controls to open the door behind her, showing the route to the nearest turbolifts. "You can ask him when you see him."

    "Yeah, right!"

    The two Dark Nebula squad-mates made their way to the forward shuttle bay, where they found a pair of TIE Phantoms sitting on their lower fins, and sharing the much smaller bay with a pair of femmes, one of whom, Alex recognised the second he stepped through the blast doors, a step or two ahead of Baille.

    "Reen!" He grinned, upon seeing the former member of Dark Nebula, "Where have you been keeping yours-" He paused, suddenly noting how she and her companion were attired, and looking from one to the other.

    "Who dressed you?"

    Tag: galactic-vagabond422 The Vanguard Bravo Mitth_Fisto
     
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  14. Bravo

    Bravo Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 10, 2001
    IC: Captain Duke P. (Patrick) Totter
    Bridge, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night, orbit over satellite moon of Lepsawn 1-9


    As soon as the two ladies left, another one showed up, this time in the form of Gwyneth Levric. Duke smirked inwardly. With all of these women coming and going through his bridge command, one might think he was a happy bachelor that all women wanted. But reality quickly sunk in as Levric reported as crisply as Imperial Military ever could.

    "Reporting as ordered, Captain,"

    Yes, this was not a soap opera dating episode where all the women just collapsed at his feet. He was a married man, April Totter was his wife, and he had a daughter at home, Christina, 3 years old. But even with the attachments of marriage & children, Totter always felt that such long deployments in space pulled at a person's heart and soul in ways unnatural to that of a stay on a planetary assignment. The dark, the cold, the emptiness at space did something to a person.

    He shook his thoughts free. Yes, his marriage wasn't perfect to April. His own self-infected alcoholism problem made sure of that. But he had been clean now for a while; despite that clean record, however, the uniform, the house, the smiling family...it was all a show to hide the unhappanies, the pain at home. Love was an abstract idea in his marriage to April. Even with his daughter, he seemed more like a side-show then the main show. Regardless of all of that, the ring on his finger pointed to his continued commitment to his marriage, probably the only hope he had left to avoid the bottle again. Or, was it that he took this second chance with Commodore Englewood to escape his marriage and find structure in the Navy that, really in turn, kept him from the bottle?

    Inwardly, the Captain sighed. The answer to both questions was a course, yes. He would talk to April later, as he always did once a week. It was one of the perks of being an officer---weekly family communication.

    "Lieutenant Levric, it appears that the Navy---or I should say the Commodore---is in need of your expertise," Totter directed her to the floating hologram of the Golan space station, "That Golan station is, as you can guess, too heavily fortified for us to do any direct assault. Furthermore, it would seem that the enemy is using our own technology that we upgraded that station with as a gesture of good faith against us. All of their communications are encrypted, but without Warrant Officer G'Spaugh's expert skills at the moment, we are unable to one hundred percent identify what communications encryption they are using. To add insult to injury, they are sending and receiving a high volume rate of communications between the planet and that station, even unusually high for a military command post.

    "All we do know, Lieutenant, is that whatever encryption they are using, they are not using an Imperial one, which leads us to believe there is something more then your usual case of bad guys planning going on over there. We would like to assume that the Golan station is as what we think, their command post for the whole planetary operation. But we need to know what their sending back-and-forth between the planet, why their sending it, and what their plans are. That, Lieutenant, is the job for Military Intelligence I believe. You have my full Command Staff's support at your finger tips. I would like something to report on in an hour, Lieutenant, just so I feel more confident of not having a surprise enemy fleet coming out of hyperspace behind us. That is all, Lieutenant. Dismissed."


    TAG Laine_Snowtrekker
     
  15. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 29, 2005
    IC: Jengleheimer Voss ‘aka Jingle’
    Imperial Star Destroyer Darkest Night, Progressing toward the Hanger

    Taking it one step at a time Jingle could not help but be a little distracted as he made his way to the central supply after leaving the armory. He already had changed in central supply, a place where he had met a lovely supply clerk who had tried to stone wall him despite his claims the order came from the Commodore. Most likely because he didn't have a written order from the Commodore, merely the verbal one given in his office.

    It had taken the promise of two days of Commodore level meal preps and three deserts of the mans choosing made in small batches to his grandmothers recipe satisfaction to get what he needed. Namely a dead smugglers and suspected rebels spare set of clothing which he then proceeded to ruin as he ripped off the bottom of the trousers on his one leg. Actually the three deserts came after that particular. . . snag.

    Walking down the hallway he smoothed out his new brown vest over a tan stained shirt, with a pair of brown pants and a gunmans leather belt. Running a free hand over the belt he familiarized himself with the empty spaces between the two blasters, the larger DH-17 on his right hip and the small DL-22 that was set across his back in a hidden holster. Fixing his vest he nodded at a couple crewmen as he walked past, the hand moving to secure the straps for the two rifles on his back. An A280 and an A280C, both popularized weapons of the Rebel Alliance ground forces. He had requisitioned a spare so that the Commodore could have a weapon as well. For some reason he honestly doubted that everything had been properly prepared so tried to think it through for himself. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

    Rounding the corner he found himself walking into the hanger and finding two females in ragged dress standing there. Unarmed. "Apparently I didn't bring enough weapons." he simply muttered as he dropped the satchel that held a catch of explosives. "Alright, who passed their rifle test?" He pointedly ignored the medical personal that was standing next to them.

    TAG: Bravo, Sith-I-5, @galactic-vagabond422 @The Vanguard
     
  16. The Vanguard

    The Vanguard Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Registered:
    Apr 12, 2016
    IC: Reen G'Spaugh
    Forward Shuttle Bay, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night, orbit over satellite moon of Lepsawn 1-9

    Entering the smaller shuttle bay, the two bridge officers took in the scene, Reen particularly with the pair of TIEs before her. Inhaling deeply, she let herself reminisce her flying days. "Beautiful.." spoke warmly, with Markova standing next to her. A creeping sadness settled in her heart as she lingered there, lost in the moment, reminiscing for too long. Her general confidence began to erode, replaced by a sense of loss from the past. Pull yourself together G'Spaugh, she thought sternly to herself before someone called her by first name, releasing her from her dark nostalgia.

    "Reen!" a familiar voice sounded from a different entrance into the shuttle bay.

    "Alex?" she asked but knew very well the voice of her former squadron-mate.

    "Where have you been keeping yours-" he paused, giving the pair a second look.

    "Why don't you take a holo-vid? It'll last longer," Reen teased, still very self-aware of her appearance.

    "Who dressed you?"

    "Commodore's idea, still not sure what the hell is going on here."

    Reen took notice the odd loadout of the pilots, acknowledging Harte with a 'what's up' nod.

    "What about you two? You look dressed for tac-2 jungle training - in the shuttle bay?"

    TAGS: Bravo Sith-I-5 galactic-vagabond422
     
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  17. Sith-I-5

    Sith-I-5 Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Aug 14, 2002
    IC: Flight Lieutenants Alex Qipao19 (loyal npc), Baille Harte, , Forward Shuttle Hangar
    Location: Darkest Night, orbit over Lepsawn 1-9


    "Why don't you take a holo-vid? It'll last longer," Reen G'Spaugh teased, in response to his questing glances between them.

    "Who dressed you?" Alex couldn't help but ask.

    "Commodore's idea, still not sure what the hell is going on here." She admitted, sounding rueful about it.

    He noticed his old squad-mate giving Baille a nod of acknowledgment, with her nodding back, prompting him to close to the sides of, and equidistant between, the two pilots, so that he and they formed three sides of a square, and he wasn't crowding the younger femme in the single-sleeved white top, and the floral tattoo.

    "What about you two? You look dressed for tac-2 jungle training - in the shuttle bay?"

    "We're also here to meet the Commodore. We were told to dress for ground pounding. And since those," now he nodded towards the closest of the dagger-finned TIEs, "have their own life support, we just changed up here." Alex indicated his companion. "Reen, this is Baille Harte. Baille, meet the great Reen G'Spaugh."

    Baille nodded. "I recognised the face. Her picture is on the wall in the pilot's lounge, remember?"

    There were images of all the pilots that had served in the Dark Nebula squadron, on the walls of that lounge. Active, retired, KIA, and like G'Spaugh and Steadfast, medically discharged.

    "Reen was with me, when Operation Immediate Rescue turned into Operation Immediate U-Turn!" Qipao19 moved effortlessly into story mode, making sure to glance at all three of the women, so that no-one felt left out. "ComScan had tracked Rebel starfighters back to this Base hidden in a bottleneck canyon, unable to be assaulted from orbit, or from high altitude. I had stepped in to fly one of the infantry larties." He turned to Baille. "That's-"

    "Light Altitude Assault Transport, I know."

    "Good." He turned back to Reen and Natalia. "So with our TIEs running interference, our larties could only approach through this winding route, which widened into a large circle to accommodate this base, and where we intended to land and deploy our troops. Of course, the Rebels knew we could only come that way, and the cheeky scamps had set up Triple-As, automated anti-air batteries, in our path, to spell out the word 'HELLO'!" Alex laughed heartily at the memory, unable to continue for a moment.

    Tag: galactic-vagabond422 The Vanguard
     
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  18. galactic-vagabond422

    galactic-vagabond422 Force Ghost star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 11, 2009
    IC: Natalia Markova
    Forward Shuttle Bay, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night

    The navigator was silent walking beside G'Spaugh. She was still troubled by what laid in store for her. These orders, what end did they lead to, why would the Commodore call her away from her station and dress so, irregularly. Again she began to tap out another viol piece, a composition made for the instrument. As her fingers drummed against her upper arm, slight humming came from her. Soon it was the only thing she was thinking about. The notes the music that filled her head, she didn't even realize that the doors of the turbo lift had opened until they nearly closed on her.

    She followed quickly out after the communications chief. In the forward shuttle bay she kept close to G'Spaugh. She'd only even been down here right after she was transferred to the Darkest Night. She could recall stepping off the shuttle and making her way directly to the bridge. She did not stop to look around or note where anything was. It was not the area where she would be working, therefore she didn't take in any details of it. There was no reason to. She continued to tap and hum until two more people entered, a man and a woman. Both seemed dressed in armor of one sort and were armed but, Natalia didn't recognize them.

    However it seemed the man recognized G'Spaugh.

    "Reen!" Natalia winced, more loud noises.

    She remained quiet as the pair talked, the carratoisan didn't care for crowds, didn't care for social gatherings. Always too much noise, too much disorganization, with three others sharing her space, she was made uncomfortable. Her grey looked at the ground hand still tapping away on her arm.

    Alex, the man launched into a story something from his and G'Spaugh's past, Operation Immediate Rescue. It was during one of the ground offensives. Natalia picked up on the details but, was still tuning most of it out. That was until the end when his sudden exclamation and laughter shocked her out of her compulsion.

    She didn't smile or laugh along with him. She found nothing amusing in the tale. So the Anti-Air batteries were arranged in such a way to form a greeting. It would have done them better to arrange them to better cover the most area so as to deny the Imperials the air.

    Not that it would have mattered. The Rebels were still outnumbered; they would not have carried the day.

    A lull came over the conversation and things had quieted finally. Natalia didn't introduce herself. No one had asked for her name, nor did she feel any reason to speak. Not that she could with all the people around. Two people she could handle but, three was always too much for her, at least in social situations.

    She tightened her hand around her arm stopping herself from continuing the viol piece. Now was not the time for one of her compulsions.

    Natalia was content to wait in silence for the Commodore to appear and finally tell them what was going on.

    TAG: Sith-I-5 The Vanguard
     
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  19. The Vanguard

    The Vanguard Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Registered:
    Apr 12, 2016
    IC: Reen G'Spaugh
    Forward Shuttle Bay, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night

    "We're also here to meet the Commodore. We were told to dress for ground pounding. And since those," Alex nodded towards the TIEs Reen was just gawking at, "have their own life support, we just changed up here."

    "Reen, this is Baille Harte. Baille, meet the great Reen G'Spaugh."

    Baille nodded. "I recognised the face. Her picture is on the wall in the pilot's lounge, remember?"

    "I hate that picture," Reen interjected with disdain.

    "Reen was with me, when Operation Immediate Rescue turned into Operation Immediate U-Turn!" Qipao19 was always a good story-teller, when superiors weren't telling him to shut up. "ComScan had tracked Rebel starfighters back to this Base hidden in a bottleneck canyon, unable to be assaulted from orbit, or from high altitude. I had stepped in to fly one of the infantry larties." He turned to Baille. "That's-"

    "Light Altitude Assault Transport, I know," Reen noted the assertiveness shown by the red-head. To Reen it was no surprise, Baille wouldn't have been hand-picked by Vader like she didn't have a backbone.

    "Good." He turned back to Reen and Natalia. "So with our TIEs running interference, our larties could only approach through this winding route, which widened into a large circle to accommodate this base, and where we intended to land and deploy our troops. Of course, the Rebels knew we could only come that way, and the cheeky scamps had set up Triple-As, automated anti-air batteries, in our path, to spell out the word 'HELLO'!" Reen was already laughing, remembering the lively joke by the already dead rebs.

    "What a crap-show. Didn't one of the men on your transport lose his blaster? He disembarked like a rabbid animal, trying to find something to use." Reen played into the story, welcoming the memories with open arms.

    TAG: Sith-I-5 galactic-vagabond422
     
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  20. Sith-I-5

    Sith-I-5 Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Aug 14, 2002
    IC: Flight Lieutenants Alex Qipao19 (loyal npc), Baille Harte, , Forward Shuttle Hangar
    Location: Darkest Night, orbit over Lepsawn 1-9


    "What a crap-show." Reen laughed along, which Alex enjoyed seeing, and was pleased about.

    She had put a brave face on it, but he knew that it had hurt her terribly to be ripped away from the squadron, and her friends, like that.

    "Didn't one of the men on your transport lose his blaster?" She enquired when Alex stopped guffawing to get some air in. "He disembarked like a rabid animal, trying to find something to use."

    "You mean ole 'Splash Damage'?" Qipao19 queried. "Yeah, I had to bank pretty sharply to evade the first wave of Fire And Forgets coming up to greet me, and he was either going to lose his handhold or his gun, and luckily he went for the handhold." The pilot turned serious, looking distant for a moment. "I didn't want to fly larties with the sides open after that, but the troops insisted on it. They felt the things were too much of a death trap with the flanks sealed."

    He looked around at Baille and Natalia, especially the latter, whom he could see was unmoved by the sith-storm he was recounting.

    "You gotta understand, that bottleneck was only wide enough for five larties wing to wing, and being the young hotshot anxious to prove my worth, I had gone steaming in ahead of the others, eager to get my-" He tapped a white-gloved digit to his chest. "-troops in first. And the Rebels didn't space those Triple-A's out to vaguely form the letters," Alex shook his head, "noooo, there were dozens of the drokkers, packed end to end across a couple of standard acres, all peaceful-like until even the ones at the back, the tops of the letters, had a lock." He pantomimed both his open hands coming up to his face. "Voom!"

    Baille, at least, widened her eyes at this, probably able to visualise the situation.

    "So after almost dropping Splash' out the back, and pulling the tightest hand-brake turn that you have ever seen, I fled back down the arroyo, trying not to hit the over-hanging walls, or the larties that had been following about a klick behind me. And by time the rest of those mini-rockets caught up, there were more targets to distract them. One lartie ferrying an old AT-TE had no chance." He nodded at the Communications Chief. "As Reen says, it was a crap show."

    Beside him, Baille looked with concern at Natalia. "You are very quiet. Are you okay?"

    "Apparently-" Alex snapped his head around at the new voice, to find a fifth person dressed in unkempt clothes, carrying a bag and armed to the drokking teeth! "I didn't bring enough weapons."

    "Really?" Alex inwardly cringed at the unexpectedly strangled tone of his utterance, coughed and repeated in a normal tone. "Really?" He looked in awe at the two thick blaster barrels poking up over the new arrival's shoulders. Fire Rings of Fornax, they are bigger than he is!

    The man dropped his bag, and enquired of the first two femmes, "Alright, who passed their rifle test?"

    Alex sensed that he was being deliberately ignored, but figured the man must have worked with, or met, scout troopers before. According to his stormie pals, scouts made a sport out of being unlikeable rim-holes, so that was understandable.

    Tag: galactic-vagabond422 The Vanguard Mitth_Fisto Bravo
     
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  21. galactic-vagabond422

    galactic-vagabond422 Force Ghost star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 11, 2009
    IC: Natalia Markova
    Forward Shuttle Bay, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night

    G'Spaugh replied and Natalia remained quiet. She listened as the man explained in deeper detail what exactly happened that day. All the grave details of the situation, the navigator remained unmoved. The Rebels used mini-rockets, was that it. Would not they have been better served having flack canons, and anti-air laser canons, the type that fire hundreds of blasts per second. It would have denied the Empire the airspace, and would have led to greater causalities given that the pilots couldn't pull the same maneuver Alex did.

    Again it wouldn't have changed anything, though it would have made more sense. Never just use one countermeasure, use several. However it seemed the Rebels were trying to use overwhelming numbers. Filling the sky with ordinance to keep the Empire at bay. Were they getting to the point they could threaten the Empire? No, impossible, the Empire has millions of soldiers, millions of pilots, far more than any rebellion could muster. They were fighting a losing battle.

    The index finger on her right hand began to tap against her upper arm, her compulsion returning.

    "You are very quiet. Are you okay?" the woman asked.

    Natalia looked up ready to reply but, was cut off by yet another person entering. A human carrying more weapons than he had arms.

    "I didn't bring enough weapons." He said, Natalia winced again, more for the additional body in her area than the noise of his speech. How many people were coming on this mission.

    "Alright, who passed their rifle test?" the man continued.

    Natalia merely shook her head no. She was only ever trained on pistols not that she ever planned to use them in combat. It was just a formality, in case the ship was boarded. She could hit stationary targets but, moving, living ones. She'd never done that before.

    Would this be the time she had to?

    TAG: @Mitth_Fisto The Vanguard Sith-I-5 Bravo
     
  22. Bravo

    Bravo Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 10, 2001
    IC: Lieutenant Steadfast
    Progressing between Hangers, Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Darkest Night, orbit over Lepsawn 1-9

    Steadfast pounded his cane for added urgency as the Commodore and him slipped past two TIE Pilots walking past them in the primary corridor connecting the two Hanger Bays; the pilots ignored Englewood, not knowing it was the Commodore in his less then Imperial attire, but quickly straightened for Steadfast, who quickly saluted and let the two continue.

    "Commodore Englewood, I respectfully request----ouch!" Steadfast rubbed his face as he ran right into the corridor, who looked down on the main hanger bay (one of the last places to see), as he watched Chief Shinzon below give marching orders to his Imperial Naval Troopers.

    "You should watch where you're going, Lieutenant," Englewood said matter-of-factly, then nodded down to Shinzon's re-doubling efforts and smirked, "You know how to get a things done at hyperspace speeds?"



    Steadfast rolled his eyes at another of the Commodore's jokes that seemingly only the Commodore found funny, yet no one else did, "How?"

    "Threaten a Mandalorian with their own honor."


    "It was so funny, I forgot to laugh," Steadfast deadpanned.

    "That's good," Englewood said, "Because, while I'm gone, Chief Shinzon is your responsibility."


    Steadfast's eyes went back as the Commodore rushed off, "But----but---Commodore, what I meant to say was that your away mission was a great idea and----" the heavy blasts doors opened and closed, sealing off the Commodore to the other side of the shuttle hanger, and Steadfast let out a sigh & spoke to himself, "I'd rather work with a hungry Rancor, then Shinzon."



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



    Escape Pod Occupants, outer space around Lepsawn 1-9


    "Hey!" said a rather ill-showered human male with long rocker-style hair, "Doesn't that look like rocket packs to you man!"

    "Move your over-drugged butt!" yelped a Twi'lek, who laughed as he looked out at the distance escape pod, "Rocket packs! You must be letting the spice get to your head! That's a rescue party!"

    "Whoa...like man, awesome! Rescue party!" the human said.

    A frustrated Dug pushed the others out of the way, bringing a set of electrobinoculars to his eyes and looked out the viewport just in time before the escape pod freely rotated out of view of the attempted rescue mission, then he turned back to the other two, "That's no rescue mission you idiots! Those are Imperials trying to board us!"

    The Twi'lek rolled his eyes, "We're stuck here in space. So even if the Imperials are trying to capture us, isn't that like a rescue?"

    The human burped, "Whoa! Like far out thoughts man!"


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


    Escape Pod Occupants, outer space around Lepsawn 1-9 (escape pod being captured by Shinzon)



    "Anyone seeing anything? Are we getting closer to that Star Destroyer!!!???" Pleaded a Gungan.

    "Why don't you stop freaking out?" answered a large muscular human who was cleaning his blaster rifle near the escape pod's primary entrance/exit door, "The only way we're getting out of this escape pod is either by dying out here or in the belly of that Star Destroyer!" The man had decent military attire and look, showing that he was part of The Rebellion and not of the lower thug types.

    Another, more rounded, human had his face pressed up against one of the viewports, "I don't see a thing!"

    "Probably," the more muscular built Rebel said under his breath, "Is because you see donuts all the time. How you made it into the Rebellion is beyond me."

    "What did you say?" the rounded human said, turning to his other Rebellion partner.

    "Nothing," the man said, glancing around their cramped pod of several other humans and one other alien, an Advozse. Seeing that everyone was in various states of either depression or anxiety in the escape pod, the man attached the Breath Mask to his face.

    "Hey!" spoke the Advozse, pointing a finger at the large human, "Not fair! I don't have one!"

    The muscular built man shrugged, "Just came prepared."

    Soon everyone could hear clicks from outside the hull.

    "What was that?" the Gungan said, looking like he was about to loose himself.

    "That," the large muscular man said as he finished putting his blaster rifle together and checked the energy pack charge, "Is what anyone worth two credits would do: gas the pod before capture."

    "You mean their going to kill us???" asked another human---one of the many gang thugs in the life pod.

    The large man with the mask rolled his eyes, "No. They could just blow us up for that, you idiot! They want to capture us without a fight."



    TAG Bardan_Jusik
     
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  23. Bardan_Jusik

    Bardan_Jusik Former Manager star 10 VIP - Former Mod/RSA

    Registered:
    Dec 14, 2009
    IC: Security Chief Cain Shinzon
    On the Great Escape Pod Roundup, Battle of Lespawn 1-9

    Cain watched as the first pod was prepped for capture. With the knockout gas spliced into the pod's life support system it wouldn't take long for the occupants to be rendered unconscious, then it was a simple matter of pulling the pod aboard the Darkest Night, breaching it and removing the unaware prisoners to the stockade. That was of course if they were all human, or near human enough for the gas to work. There were some species the Mandalorian knew that would be unaffected by the gas. He also knew the Rebel's weren't too picky when it came to allowing such aliens to join their ranks. shab, even a baseline human would remain unaffected if he were wearing a sealed helmet like Cain and his Naval Troopers in their Spacetrooper gear. So it was that he was watching the operation very carefully for any signs of an attempted "breakout" from the pod. None occurred though and the troopers applying the gas gave Cain a thumbs up. "Gas team done with pod 1A, we're moving on to 1B," they called out over the Spacetrooper frequency.

    "Very well, move on to the next pod." Cain ordered them needlessly as they jetted off toward the second pod. Cain meanwhile commed Zallen. "All right, check it out," he motioned to the first pod and Zallen ordered over the net. "Inspection team, you're up." Two more Spacetrooper kitted up Naval Troopers jetpacked over to the first pod, examining first the life support system to ensure it had been properly compromised before knocking on the hull several times, and further inspecting it for either damage or traps before they too reported in. "There's nothing here, looks good to...hold on a minute." There was a pause that lasted one beat too long for Cain's liking. "There's movement inside the pod, someone is still awake in there." Cain frowned behind his faceplate as his stomach lurched again. Looked like some rebel had either prepared for this or was immune to the gas. Oh well, that rebel had just sealed the fate of his or her fellow criminals. "Breach the pod," came Cain's next order which was replied to with a swift, and pleased. "Yes sir."

    The tractor beam on the pod was released at Zallen's order and the pair of troopers on the "inspection team", used it's new found freedom to maneuver it so the transparisteel window was at a 90 degree angle to the hull of the Darkest Night, facing "up". One of them then placed a small demolition charge on the face of the window. After a few moments they commed to Cain. "We're all set here sir." Cain took a moment to check and make sure all of his men, and most importantly himself, were at a safe distance. "Very well, ventilate it."

    The two Naval troopers jetted off to a safe distance. "Fire in the hole, fire in the hole!" one commed out, letting the troopers know that an explosive decompression was in the works before the other clacked shut on the remote trigger for the charge. There was a bright flash, but of course no sound as the transparisteel window of the first pod simply ceased to exist. Atmosphere rushed out from the inside of the pod, taking with it the still unconscious forms of several Rebels, A Gungan, an Advozse, a human...and there a larger human struggling against the outward flow of atmosphere with a breath mask on. Cain raised his blaster carbine and put two bolts through the muscular human's chest as the pod, unrestrained by a tractor beam flew off in the opposite direction. That was why the Naval Troopers had made sure the now breached window was pointed perpendicular to the ship, the debris shot out one way, the pod the other, with the hull no where in the line of fire. He commed the bridge, "Inform fighter control we there is a target nearby, debris of a breached life pod." He would leave it up to them to either leave it or clean up the space refuse. He had his own mission to complete he thought as he looked to the next life pod.

    Hopefully the fate of the first gassed pod would serve as a demonstration of the Empire's resolve. Resistance was futile, the only hope these Rebels had was to surrender. Cain called on the inspection team to police up the expelled bodies, maybe they would have useful intelligence on them. Then he turned to the capture team plugging the gas into the life support system of the second pod. "You may proceed."

    TAG: Bravo

    OOC: Resistance is futile obviously taken from Star Trek.
     
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  24. Laine_Snowtrekker

    Laine_Snowtrekker Jedi Grand Master star 5

    Registered:
    Jul 8, 2003
    IC: Lieutenant Gwen Levric
    Bridge, Darkest Night

    Totter waited for the briefest of moments before diving into what he'd summoned her to the bridge for. He wasn't the only being in the Navy who did that around MI, but the reasons varied. For some, it was a power move, meant to intimidate the listener, to throw rank around--but Totter wasn't that type of officer, especially with that record. For others, it was a move with various motivations, all of which boiled down to her being a woman in a man's world--but Totter also wasn't that type of officer, either. No, Totter always seemed like he carried the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders with not much room to spare; whether that weight was due to his record or his marriage or his role in the war was unclear. Motivations were always tricky to unravel, especially as people were never just one way about one thing always.

    "Lieutenant Levric, it appears that the Navy---or I should say the Commodore---is in need of your expertise," Totter finally said, waving at the hologram, where the Golan station hung, its outlines sketched in blue light. It was the only thing Levric could think of that would have them draw her away from the prisoners--and the only intriguing puzzle in the entire battle thus far. All reports she'd received so far indicated that the ground game was well underway, though in what form she didn't know, nor did she want to know, really. Wanting to know was one of the ways that sloppy MI folks could die sooner rather than later.

    Totter continued: "That Golan station is, as you can guess, too heavily fortified for us to do any direct assault. Furthermore, it would seem that the enemy is using our own technology that we upgraded that station with as a gesture of good faith against us. All of their communications are encrypted, but without Warrant Officer G'Spaugh's expert skills at the moment, we are unable to one hundred percent identify what communications encryption they are using. To add insult to injury, they are sending and receiving a high volume rate of communications between the planet and that station, even unusually high for a military command post."

    Levric acknowledged his words with a tight nod. Blasts of information like that--well, either they were doing a lot of correspondence, were sending very large files in lots of little packages, or they were hiding needles in proverbial haystacks. If there were a needle to be found, her team would find it. G'Spaugh being off-duty after a long battle (as this one had been) made sense--Markova was also not on the bridge. If their rotation off was out of the ordinary, her team would let her know.

    "All we do know, Lieutenant, is that whatever encryption they are using, they are not using an Imperial one, which leads us to believe there is something more then your usual case of bad guys planning going on over there. We would like to assume that the Golan station is as what we think, their command post for the whole planetary operation. But we need to know what their sending back-and-forth between the planet, why their sending it, and what their plans are. That, Lieutenant, is the job for Military Intelligence I believe. You have my full Command Staff's support at your finger tips. I would like something to report on in an hour, Lieutenant, just so I feel more confident of not having a surprise enemy fleet coming out of hyperspace behind us. That is all, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

    An hour? She was an intelligence officer, not a miracle worker. She nodded again, spun on her heel, and headed straight to the squad room.

    She nodded at the troopers on either side of the door, palmed the door to be let in, and then stepped down into the room. Everdel and Wilmul were presently in their respective bunks after being rotated there at the end of the battle. The other two enlisted personnel, fresh from catnaps, were hard at work. Braxhave was staring at something on his screen, and Hatheat was lost in a stack of flimsi she was leafing through. Corporal Garcal was reviewing helmet and shoulder cam footage--Levric didn't know if it were live or not--and Sergeant Colbea was running a pale hand through his shockingly blond hair as he leaned back from his console.

    "Problem?" she asked, stepping up to his station. Beyond his station and through the viewport she could see the Golan II, hulking over the pole of the planet. This was going to be tricky, for more than one reason.

    "No, ma'am," Colbea said. He frowned briefly, then continued. "Well--an hour? To analyze all that?"

    Ah, so they were still piping in the audio from the bridge. Good for them. "Totter did say an hour, yes," Levric said. "So we get to it. Have you or Garcal sent the data Totter mentioned to my console?"

    Garcal grinned. "Already did," she said. "And I've begun work on the first data set; there's a search running as we speak. I don't expect anything immediately, but I will let you know what I do find."

    "Excellent. If you find you need to, re-task Braxhave and Hatheat to compile data--we have soldiers down there counting on us."

    "Yes, ma'am," Garcal said. Both Braxhave and Hatheat nodded their acknowledgement of what she'd said, as well.

    "Ma'am," Colbea said. "A new set of communiques came in from Sector Plexus--"

    "Always good to see what the gossip's like in the wider galaxy," she replied with a genuine smile. "When the Security Chief reports that there's prisoners for us to interrogate, please rouse Everdel and Wilmul and set them to it."

    Colbea nodded. Levric crossed the room to her console, slid into her chair. She took a deep breath, then quietly let it out. Everyone was an audience, everyone was an audience, everyone. was. an. audience.

    Levric called up the datasets. Absolute garbage, if one didn't know it was encrypted. Nearly absolute garbage if they couldn't decrypt it, though. She studied the encryption patterns, then began running the first decryption finder on it. Like Garcal, she doubted this first run-through would unearth anything useful. But it might provide a clue as to which program to run and finally get intelligible results.

    Until the program ran its course, however, it would be time to leaf through the Sector Plexus reports. What would the first one hold for her?

    TAG: Bravo, if he'd like to be the writer of a Sector Plexus report
     
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  25. The Vanguard

    The Vanguard Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Registered:
    Apr 12, 2016
    IC: Reen G'Spaugh
    Forward Shuttle Hangar
    Location: Darkest Night, orbit over Lepsawn 1-9

    "Are you okay?" Reen blinked hard, unaware that she zoned out again. Her symptoms were sporadic and irregular, and sometimes she could snap out of it before her temporary blindness set in.

    The question wasn't even directed towards her, but she responded quietly by herself and used the attention on Markova to pretend nothing happened.

    "Apparently-" All the attention quickly swung to the new voice entering their little circle. "I didn't bring enough weapons."

    The man was carrying two full loadouts and Reen wondered how he wasn't huffing and puffing after carrying all of it.

    "Really?" Alex' voice seemed to crack. "Really?"

    The man dropped his bag, and enquired of the first two femmes, "Alright, who passed their rifle test?"

    "Is that a joke? Or are you asking sincerely?" Reen muttered aloud, knowing full well her predicament involving her failed qualification. Then she remembered, I need a red shirt!
    'Need' seemed to be the wrong word. What she needed was for the Commodore to get off her back about the situation, but there was no way he would let this go, she knew that.

    "Wait a minute, does anyone here have any sort of reddish-colored garment I can borrow? I need it for..my outfit."

    TAG: galactic-vagabond422 Sith-I-5
     
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