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

IC: Major Héctor Pérez
Aft (Main) Hanger Bay, Darkest Night, High Orbit over planet of Javin (Outer Rim Territories)


He watched from the back of the hanger bay, leaning up against a stack of crates as a towering All Terrain Armored Transport stomped past with several hanger crew members fanned out around its hulk with orange strobe wands to ward off any unaware souls. By the time the massive walker had lumbered past at a cautious pace, she had closed the distance from the recently docked Gozanti-class Cruiser. She was looking for---

"You shouldn't judge them," Héctor said causally from the shadows of the crates as he stepped more properly into the light, his full military dress uniform covering his frame complete with a chest full of medals, "Assumption is the first fatal mistake of any fighter pilot. Arrogance is the second."


TAG @Darth_Elu
OOG: I played around with a few different versions of this post in terms of detail & length and I settled on this one. It seemed to be perfect for a man like Héctor, few words and to the point. So please don't take the shortness of the post as any indication beyond its intended purpose to counter, ahem, the Ice Queen.

 

IC: Corporal Joseph Venturi
Company E, 291st Infantry Regiment; Plato 997, Kingdom of Jod
Special Assignment, detached to Research Sciences & Theory Division (RST), as a specially assigned Fireteam



Venturi smacked his neck and withdrew the hand, showing the remnants of a once-upon-a-time bug. He gazed at the death with disgust---as the thing looked to be the size of his own thumb and had the ugly to match---and wiped its guts on his pants. He took the moment of bug murdering to look around as the entirety of the 291st was deployed. Looking to his left, he could see the distant bodies of Company E in the dark forest, where hovering centuries-old trees blocked out any meaningful rays of sunlight from up above. The few rays that did penetrate the upper canopy and descend to the lower levels added an eerie look upon the ancient land.

To say that he and his comrades that had tagged along with the initial Research Sciences & Theory Division (RST) fellows were the regiment's least favorite brothers-in-arms at the moment was a vast understatement. And Joseph was sure the rest of the 89th Combat Division and Action Force 12 would be soon to follow, as the entire lot of them were looking forward to ending their 9-Bye-9 and looking forward to 6 months off. Now, all because of some fancy suits claiming to be RST, they were being held up. So far, the troop removal had been halted to just the 291st being part of a single Mobile Assault Battalion, but the rest of the brigade was up in orbit with parts of Action Force 12 in low orbit which, if rumors were to be true, had deployed its King-class Troop Transport, Light-class Destroyer, and Strike II-class Corvette-Gunship to better blockade the planet and had deployed starfighters & shuttles into patrols around the planet. Furthermore, once again if rumor was to be true, the rest of Action Force 12 had been immediately recalled to Plato 997 with all due haste and other nearby reinforcements had been called in as well. What those "reinforcements" looked like in this middle of nowhere area of space was anyone's guess.

But, whatever that ball looking cockpit with square-like solar panels was---well, it did get RST involved---and got local military reinforcements to be called in as well. So it had to be something. What that something was, however, was anyone's best guess at this moment. RST had prevented anyone outside of Joseph, Lance Corporal Teddy Riva, Specialist Class Four Jet Wang, Staff Sergeant Bill Zappa, and the two RST agents from getting a look at the crash site deep in the forest. Even when companies D,E, and F were airlifted into the crash site by in by the 10 Low Altitude to Orbital Elite X2 Assault Infantry Transports, the LAOT-X pilots were given specific instructions on flight patterns and were excluded from getting anywhere close to the crash site, save for seeing the few remnants of black smoke that still puffed above the tree tops every so often and visible from a distance. Once deployed, the 300-man three companies were positioned in such way to never get a view of the crash site and were fanned out around the site in a circle and ordered to comb the forest for...what? The pilot? Was it even human? Alien? Droid. They weren't told much beyond to look for something, anything, that looked out of place and not Jod.

Three other companies of the 291st deployed from the original staging area to get off this remote planet and ordered to search inward towards the crash site, while a fourth (Company A) stayed as a command-and-control and reserve force at the staging area with roughly 2 companies of Provost Guard left behind to guard broken down equipment, collect any last stragglers to get off Plato 997, and provide a security element to the on-going operation's make-shift HQ of Company A of the 291st (although to be fair, the Provost Guard was mostly scattered about guarding broken down equipment & collecting stragglers and only had a platoon securing the HQ besides the Infantryman of Company A). The last 3 infantry companies were broken into 6 platoon sections and deployed to the surrounding countryside, remote villages & towns, and ordered to patrol up and down the local trails & pathways (with a Horse Cavalry Platoon & Biker Scout Company equipped with Single Trooper Elite X2 Aerial Platforms) and roads with the remaining elements of the General Combat Regiment (Motorized Armor Corps), except for the Command Company, Maintenance Platoon, and both Light Infantry Batteries (which all stayed with Company A at the HQ). The Modern Battery had been deployed to a nearby hill overlooking for the forest and surrounding area to provide artillery support, airlifted by the Low Altitude to Orbital Elite X2 Assault Carrier Transports into place with 2 detached All Terrain Anti-Aircraft Walkers in support. Up above in the sky, except for two such LAOT-Xs at the HQ, the other 10 were patrolling the skies above the ground patrols.

As Venturi stepped over a rock and then maneuvered around a tree, the initial intermediate and random snip, snip, snip didn't get much of his attention, but as the snips became more intense through the leaves (and Joseph looked up to see leaves following all around him like snow flakes) and then started sounding harder with thuds against trees, he knew something was up. Especially when the tree by him---and the one he had his hand on--- started throwing splinters into the forest air as many thuds hit it all at once. He looked around in those moments----both left where the rest of the company was and then right, where only 4 other troops separated him from the extreme right flank of their search line---and saw much of the same confusion through body language of his comrades. After all, most of the men that made up the 291st had never seen real combat, as the veterans say, and instead have been only witness to the fewest of rushed skirmishes against bandits & outlaws and nothing against any type of organized foe like the The Cause and their battle hardened Free Jod Marine Militia.

But within the long line of troops, suddenly, someone barked out "Contact!" as the snow-falling leaves fell everywhere like a beautiful gentle snow to the ground.

And it was that word---Contact---that suddenly seemed to intensify the snips & thuds and then the horrible word: "Soldier down!" somewhere along the line. It was no longer beautiful to watch the falling leaves in those moments. All the training and all the bandits & outlaw skirmishes didn't prepare you for the real thing, for real combat as the veterans say. In the dense dark forest with intermediate sunlight from above, Joseph couldn't make out where, who, and how many were firing at them. Only that, as collective body of Company E started to come around to the fact of enemy contact was real, that training started kicking in for the greenest of rookies to the oldest of veterans. Someone from behind nudges him forward with a hand on his shoulder and he could feel the man's breathing as he barked orders from behind.

"Hurry men! Hurry! Line up up! Line up!"

Another man shouted, this one an Company Officer (looked to be the captain himself) that walked up and down the forming line of one column forming behind another one with a calmer tone then the NCO pushing him from behind, "First row, kneel. Second row stand." The officer walked up and down the line in front like a brave man, his Infantry Sword Model 4 shinning as he held it above relaxed over his shoulder.

Everyone knew that against slugthrowers and lesser weapons, their infantryman armor would hold up just fine, being able to take---

Joseph heard a sickening thud besides him and---at first---thought he had been hit as red liquid splashed on to the left side of his face! Then he heard the crumple, the groan, and the thud to the ground and looked to his left to see the man who had been kneeling next to him was dead. Despite the two gunshot wounds to the shell jacket, the murdering shot had been the shot through the left eye. The black hole that was left of the socket and the man's sudden stern stare up to the heavens with his right eye told Joseph that this was, indeed, real combat! He swallowed the knot that had formed in his throat at the sight of the dead man.

His attention, however, was moved forward as he heard the words from that officer who now stood on the far left of the line (opposite Joseph's far right position), "First row at the ready!"

Without thinking, Joseph pulled back the hammer on his LR-Model 2 Blaster Rifle, the click.

"AIM!" Even in the officer's voice now, you could hear the strain in his voice as the moment had come to this. In a moment, the first row would deliver a devastating volley of blaster fire. The heavy punch of the LR-Model 2 would cut through trees and bodies, unlike the slugthrower slugs being thrown at them now.

Joseph brought his rifle to his shoulder and aimed down its iron sights. Even with his vision now focused down the sights, he didn't see much. But he could see movement and it appeared the enemy had heard---and seen---the company officer's orders, as the firing from their own weapons had decreased as they sought cover.

Joseph heard his heart beat again and again and again in his ears. He could hear his breathing. But nothing else. He aimed down the sights, holding his position and his finger off the trigger, but hovering near it. He took a breath and let it out, sweat starting to bead down his face from the sides. This was it, as time seemed to slow.

"FIRE!" The company captain blurted out with more force then the previous commands. Joseph pulled the trigger, felt the rifle kickback into his shoulder, and watched the mini explosion & expanding puff of smoke from his barrel down the sights as the Red Rock Encased Projectile Type 1 (REP-1) shot out. The crackle sound effect of the discharging firearms pierced through the woods and quickly silenced any opposition from their attackers. But, as soon as their firing had stopped, the enemy had picked it up again.

"Second row, at the ready...." Was all Joseph heard as he brought his rifle down onto the ground butt first, the NCOs and lieutenants in the back and side of the line started issuing orders, "First line, reload!" ordered one officer, a lieutenant near Joseph's side, while the NCO behind was encouraging the troops even before Joseph started to dig his hands into his cartridge box on his belt and withdrew a paper cartridge , "Load boys! Load! At the quick boys! At the quick!"

Joseph tore open the paper with his teeth---his hands shaking with the rush of the moment---and poured the contents of the paper cartridge (which contained both gunpowder & REP-1 into musket's barrel. He then withdrew the ramrod attached to underside of musket barrel, swirled it around his head as in training, and brought it down into the barrel, slamming home the contents of the paper cartridge. He then reattached the ramrod back into its place---

"AIM!"

---With his left hand that had been gripping the barrel, he raised the rifle until the trigger and hammer of the rifle were just above his black cap box. With thumb and forefinger of his right hand, he dug into cap box next to the cartridge box and withdraw a small copper cap (percussion cap). Joseph gave the cap a slight pinch to squeeze it together to keep it from falling off of the cone; he then---

"FIRE!"

---pulled back the hammer to the half-cock position, flicked any expended (previously used) copper cap off the cone of the lock and place new cap on it.

The crackle of fire behind his ears along the line quickly silenced any start-up of enemy firing again as they all dove for all cover.

"Fire at will! Fire at will!" ordered the brave captain. It was then that Joseph fell into the routine of firing, reloading, and firing again. After the third or fourth shot, Joseph was noticing he wasn't aiming much at all, but just firing towards the general direction of the enemy. Acid-like smoke started filling the forest around the firing line within minutes as the rifles discharged again and again and again. Comrades fell, orders were shouted by officers and NCOs, and the cries of the wounded could be heard. But as quickly as it had started, a few minutes later, it was over. The arrangement of Company E had seemed small in line of battle to Joseph, but he had chalked it up to being caught up in the rush of the moment. But now, he had seen that he had been right: the captain had discharged a flanking squad once the enemy's position was relatively certain and fixed,the squad being lead by the other lieutenant of the company. The squad had successfully sneaked around the enemy's flank and had suprised them from the rear, forcing them and Company's E line of battle to immediately cease fire or risk hitting friendlies.


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


10 minutes later....


Joseph had been tasked with guarding the 8 prisoners they had rounded up, along with two other soldiers, back behind the enemy's former line of defense. The 8 survivors were all wounded, except for 3, and were the remnants of a larger force of 16 that was now dead on forest's floor except for the survivors. As for Company E, they had suffered 3 dead and 9 wounded.

"Joseph! Joseph!" came the excited voice of Teddy Riva as he navigated the trees, mulling troops, and now former battlefield.

"What?" Joseph asked as Teddy grabbed his arm to get his attention even more.

"Did you see that???!!!" Teddy asked, assuming Joseph was supposed to know something.

"See what?" Joseph asked, the fatigue of battle setting in mentally as the rush of it all was quickly fading.

"What do you mean, see what????" Teddy asked, slapping Joseph on the shoulder, "That flanking maneuver I did with the LT! He grabbed me and a few of the boys and we flanked those radical son-of-a-----" Teddy stopped short as he looked at Joseph's bloodied left face, "Hey! Hey! Are you doing alright? Did you get hit? Tell me that's not your blood, brother!"

"No, no," Joseph said, shaking his head, "I'm fine, Teddy. I'm fine."

"What's that?" Jet Wang asked as he walked into the picture.

"We don't know," Bill Zappa admitted as he held a black helmet in one hand from the group of prisoners, "But from the looks of it, these boys," he nodded to the prisoners, "Were part of a larger group. So whoever was the owner of this helmet is now with that other group. At least that's what we think we got from them all refusing to talk. Body language told us everything else we needed to know. We called those fancy RST suits to come take a look at it. Its not Jod, that's fore sure. The suits told us to wait until they get back here."


TBC

 

IC: Corporal Joseph Venturi
Company E, 291st Infantry Regiment; Plato 997, Kingdom of Jod
Special Assignment, detached to Research Sciences & Theory Division (RST), as a specially assigned Fireteam



Venturi was staring at the QF-Model 1 Infantry Rifle and he could of swore he was drooling as he turned the masterpiece of a rifle over in his hands. "Sweet mother," he said in awe, "Good Force willing, we'll be getting these issued soon." He looked up to the Special Tactics Trooper and handed him the rifle back, licking off the wetness from his lips, "Mighty fine weapon there."

The Spec chuckled, "Well, yes it is," he padded the telescopic scope sight, "With this baby added, who needs RecSnips? They're," he added a boom to his voice as he said over his shoulder, "Overrated!"

"Stuff it Peterson!" replied the Reconnaissance Sniper to whom the comment was directed, "You better watch your six! Your head is so big, even a Spec couldn't miss!"

The loose gathering of Infantrymen and both Specs & RecSnips who were part of the Regimental Command & Support Element (RCE), in which in whom was most of the gathering, broke out in oohs & cheers on the intense rivalry between Specs & RecSnips.

"Well," Staff Sergeant Bill Zappa added to the small gathering of he, Joseph, Lance Corporal Teddy Riva, and Specialist Class Four Jet Wang who all stood outside (by a few yards) a gathering of various specialists and officers of the regiment under a large command tent where two Provost Guards flanked the entrance, their LR-Model 2 Blaster Rifle butt down in the dirt and along their outer leg with one hand grasped around the barrel of the long rifle and their other hand along their side. Out and all around in the grassy countryside and woods within eyesight where the former staging area was just hours ago, Company A was in various positions of rest and guard duty (as per their assignment at the moment), while several tents (like the command tent) had been clustered together to service the needs of the regiment through the RCE near the former landing area. Several patrols of Provost Guard, as attached to the regiment directly, patrolled around and provided checkpoint security further out along the roads. Other Provost Guard still lingered, guarding broken down vehicles & equipment nearby and, in some cases, miles away, until pickup came.

"That's if Army Command hasn't forgotten about the 'ole Unlucky 89th," Bill continued, "Not the first time the 89th has gotten the leftovers & hand-me-downs."

"Truth be told," Teddy added, "I hear by the time we see those fancy weapons as our standard service rifle in this division, they'll already be obsolete and there will be new weapons!"

The one Spec with them shrugged, "Well, lets hope something happens that---"

"Staff Sergeant!" yelped the regiment's senior NCO, a Command Sergeant Major, as he came out of the tent, "Get your Fireteam in here!"

"---There's our something," Venturi finished the Spec's sentence for him. The 4 men left the Spec behind with nods & handshakes and entered the tent. The Senior NCO of the regiment (Command Sergeant Major),Signaller (Master Sergeant), the Army Intelligence Force's First Sergeant, and the regiment's Colonel of the RCE all stood inside the tent, as did the 2 RST suits and the commanding officer (a Lieutenant) of the Special Tactics Troopers and the ranking Reconnaissance Sniper (of 2, the senior being a Master Sergeant within the tent, the Staff Sergeant being outside the tent with the rest of the RCE). In the middle of the tent was a table with a large physical map spread out across the table, showing the whole region's area on the planet, as well as a miniature holoprojector next to the map, showing (in all blue holo colors) the planet of Plato 997 itself rotating in space with the King-class Troop Transport, Light-class Destroyer, and Strike II-class Corvette-Gunship in various low orbit positions around the planet. The holo also showed various patrols of 3 Bounce Interceptors a piece who tried in vein to cover the vast planet's orbit between the starships and prevent anyone from running the loose blockade around the planet; it was a gambler's loosing bet for sure, but they did it all the same. The colonel's personal desk & chair was along the left backside wall of the tent, with the black helmet from earlier on the chair. Silently, Venturi wondered what the two white circular symbols on each frontal side of the helmet meant. But, his attention was diverted from the helmet when the colonel cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention.

The colonel, Joseph could notice, had a look between annoyance that this fireteam was chosen (Joseph & company)---and not one of his choosing to show off his regiment's finest and his command abilities in choosing them---and pride, that his regiment was chosen---and not some other regiment---so he could show off his regiment and his command abilities. The corporal chalked it up to typical Infantry Officer Corps showmanship.

"Here," the colonel said, pointing on the map, the holographic map changing from a planetary view to zooming in on where the colonel was pointing, showing a old mining complex, "Is an abandoned mining complex. A squad from Lieutenant Berry's Spec detachment caught onto the track of our presumed Free Jod Marine Militia and whoever was wearing that helmet," the colonel simply nodded his head towards the helmet, "Lieutenant?"

The Specs officer nodded, "Thank you Colonel Wind," the lieutenant said to the regimental officer, before taking a step closer to the table and extending the hologram over the physical map with a movement of his fingers into the floating digital hologram. The hologram left its orbit around its miniature projector and transplanted itself onto the larger map, showing a 3D hologram of the abandoned mining complex and surrounding countryside, "I have 9 men here, here, and here."

The lieutenant pointed out on the map, 3 green dots appearing every time he pointed to an area. One trio was up-top an evaluated forested hill overlooking the mining complex that sat in a partly sunken hole (the size of 3 CR90 Corellian Corvettes in total area) with ground water flooding its bottom levels (the complex itself looked like a 3-story rectangular box with a single long tower coming out the middle and ending in a landing pad up-top; the rectangular box had various shapes and stories---1,2 or 3 stories---in different areas along the main building that snaked into the mine itself). The other 2 trios were positioned in a diagonal position across from each other overlooking different areas of the complex, while invisible to each other because of the complex in the way, the hill trio could have visual contact with the other two elements to coordinate any assault. Like the hill trio, the other two trios were well hidden in the surrounding forest. A single long and long forgotten dirt road ran out of the complex's maintenance bays (that were partly flooded in ground water from the abandoned mine) and up & out of the sunken hole. The ill maintained road was collapsed in areas, overgrown in others, and little more then deep mud & water in still others. Fallen logs and abandoned mining equipment also dotted the road as it snaked through the forest for 10 more miles until reaching a small village.

The Lieutenant went on, point at the map and populating red dots as he went (some red dots were small, indicating troops, while others were box-like meaning fixed defenses), "My squad has confirmed at least thirty exterior guard positions total with twelve of those guards in double mobile guard patrols and eighteen of them taking up sentry positions. Six fixed guardhouses, part of the mining complex, house an additional four guards each, two inside the guardhouse with---from sensor power readings---security cameras and warning alarms and two guards outside each guardhouse. Two guardhouses here, flanking the entrance," he pointed to the main road and locked entrance gate, "And one guardhouse here, here, and here. All on the exterior ground level of the complex and all protecting either a supplies section of the complex, the fuel section for the equipment, or the storage of the mined goods," the junior officer looked up to all gathered, "While we assume these areas are not used as they once were, the guardhouses nonetheless provided fixed defensive positions and may, indeed, provide extra security to whatever these people have in there," the officer looked back down to the map and pointed, populating another red square, "A sixth guardhouse looks to be guard the maintenance bays. These guardhouses look to all be equipped with floodlights and machine guns of some kind. We assume crude projectile ones, but the gun nests still provide a fixed hard defense to overcome. First Sergeant?"

The First Sergeant nodded and stepped forward from his side of the large table as Lieutenant Berry stepped back, "Comparing Aerial Photography & Reconnaissance Corps pictures over the last three years, activity at this site is old and steady. We've left alone, because all information seemed to point to backwater smugglers and drug dealers. Nothing we wanted to risk a full operation on and get caught in a sticky firefight in that abandoned mine and loose personnel. However, an uptick from last year," the hologram changed to show about a dozen aerial photos of the site, "To this year show both a small, yet steady, increase in personnel, equipment, and general heat and power coming from the complex over the last year. We think that the Free Jod Marine Militia moved in. What happened to the low level criminals? We no idea. But an operation this size is rare for the FJM, because their focusing a larger number of personnel in one area. They like to be scattered, not bunched together. Its harder for us to get them all in one decisive battle. So, it begs to ask, why are they taking such risks? With Lieutenant Berry's men's estimates and our own, we think there is over one hundred armed hostiles in that complex."

"What's their end game?" Joseph suddenly spoke up. Everyone turned to him, with the regimental colonel and Bill giving him death stares. Teddy and Jet both looked amazed that Joseph was so bold.

"Corporal," the colonel started, "You need to---"

One of the RST suits raised his hand and cut the colonel off, "Let the corporal speak. First Sergeant?"

The intelligence man nodded, addressing the larger crowd, "What we think is happening is the FJM is setting up a transit base of shorts. Keep limited flights in and out. Low presence, but just enough to put up a long enough fight to evac. As to what their transporting out," the intelligent agent shrugged, "We don't know yet. But its clear our missing person to that helmet was taken there. We're going to assume heavily that the FJM soldiers who took him there, knew that there would be transportation off planet from there."

"Alright," Joseph said, drawing everyone's attention again, "I know I speak for myself. Well, maybe. But what are we," he addressed his 3 other squad members, "Doing here?"

"That's easy," the colonel said, "You four saw the crash site. And only you four. So the RST suits want to keep an eye on you."

One of the suits glared at the colonel and the man shrunk back like a hurt puppy.

"To the contrary of the colonel's harsh and incorrect words," the RST who had been speaking said in reply, "You'll be deployed with us as our personal bodyguards. After all," the agent looked to the colonel, "High ranking government officials need protection, correct, colonel?"

"A course, sir," the colonel forced down a knot in his throat, "I'm sorry that I misspoke."

"I'm sure you are," the RST agent said and turned to Lieutenant Berry, "Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir," the officer said and took over as he took a step closer to the table again, "We'll fly in low with a Low Altitude to Orbital Elite X2. Wait for night. Those people won't be fool enough to launch during the day, if they do have an escape craft hidden in that complex. Or one to come and pick them up. So they'll wait for the cover of darkness. My squad already on the ground will take out the guard posts and as many targets as they can just before we land. Those nine troops will remain on station to provide cover as eleven of us will deploy from the LAOT-X, splitting up into three teams of three. Two men will secure that top tower, where we'll assume any escape craft will be launching from or landing on. Our resident Reconnaissance Sniper will provide aerial cover from the LAOT-X, as will our Infantryman fireteam," Berry nodded to the Infantrymen in respect, "Once we've located our objective, we'll tell the RST agents and their bodyguards to deploy. Our sniper will retain aerial cover. From reconnaissance information gathered from my men on site now, all heat signatures are coming from that massive complex building. As army intelligence said, we're counting about one hundred hostiles total between outside duty and inside that complex per heat signatures. The mine itself seems collapsed and flooded, although we must assume there is still an escape path through the mine. Time will be against us, so we'll have to move quick. Once the exterior force is eliminated, two teams outside the complex will move in and start an attack from the ground level, distracting security personnel and splitting their defense. At that point, we'll only have the hilltop covering us and aerial. Once the objective is located and secured, we gather it and what enemy intelligence we can find in that place on its operations and meet at the roof top tower for evac. Secondary escape route is through the maintenance bays. If we get cutoff or separated, well meet at sector one, eight, one to the East. Questions?"

There were none.

"Gentlemen, we're wheels up in fifteen minutes," Berry said, "We'll launch and wait by the target in a safe wooded area. Out of sight. Once darkness hits or my team already on the ground there alerts us to activity that warrants a speed up of the timetable, we launch. Watch your shots for innocents. Dismissed."


TBC

 

IC: Corporal Joseph Venturi
Company E, 291st Infantry Regiment; Plato 997, Kingdom of Jod
Special Assignment, detached to Research Sciences & Theory Division (RST), as a specially assigned Fireteam



Conventional wisdom had not applied as Venturi put his head back against the back of the Low Altitude to Orbital Elite X2. The sun hadn't yet set down for the day, it's orange-yellow glow struggling behind the mountains in the far distance. The low altitude craft jumped with sudden air turbulence and the jolt brought Joseph's attention back to the here-and-now and he turned his head from looking outside to the occupants inside.

"Questions?" Lieutenant Berry asked, his black-clad Specs shaking their heads or saying a negative. The LT nodded, "Okay you apes," he looked at his watch, "We drop in thirty seconds!"

Joseph checked one last time that his LR-Model 2 Blaster Rifle, ensuring it was loaded and all he had to do was add the copper cap to the hammer. Running the loosely arranged planetary blockade and only spotted because of its flight path to the abandoned mining complex, a transport had landed atop the tower spire. That landing had sped the timetable up by several hours.....



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


Joseph allowed his shoulder to absorb the kick of the LR-Model 2 and he watched as the shot ran out, collapsing the Free Jod Marine Militia trooper near the emergency power generators on-top the roof. The trooper's projectile rifle discharged several rounds in vein as its now-dead user fell backwards, his opposite shoulder blown to bits at the impact of the highly powerful round from the LR-Model 2. Joseph watched as the man bled out on the rooftop as the LAOT-X circled around again, its other occupants as busy as the 2 Heavy Duel Anti-Materiel/Anti-Personnel .50 Caliber Cannon ball turrets on either side.

"Where did all these FJMs come from???!!!" Teddy Riva blurted out in frustration as he fired off a Red Rock Encased Projectile Type 1, quickly following Joseph in reloading.

Venturi shook his head as he finished reloading, readied the rifle---aimed---and fired, scoring another solid hit, this one a leg impact that tore the FJM trooper's thigh wide open and cracked the thigh bone like a chicken bone during dinner. "Don't know," Joseph said, nodding towards the 3 Bounce Interceptors as they chased down the latest transport to recently---and hastily---deploy troops to the burning wreckage of the first transport. Soon, the distant fleeing transport was flaming debris falling from the sky and into the jungle below as the 3 interceptors finished torturing it with enough laser blasts to turn it into Swiss cheese, "But the interceptors are doing their job."

"This isn't their end game," Specialist Class Four Jet Wang spoke as he fired off a round at the decently sized mob of FJM troopers, roughly 20 of them and dwindling fast due to the LAOT-X constant fire, "It makes no sense to----"

"Their behind us! Their behind us!" blurted the Atmosphere Pilot over the craft's internal intercom, "Brace for---"

Joseph looked behind and out of the low altitude's side door and saw the 2 Jump Fighter Mk 4s were spouting laser fire at the low altitude craft's rear side, seemingly to appear out of nowhere. "Where in the Force did they come from!" Joseph said as the LAOT-X violently and then started shuttering as flame and smoke started billowing out the rear.

"Mayday! Mayday!" the pilot said, "Delta Nine-Nine-Eight has been hit. We're going down!"

"Hang on!" yelled the co-pilot down into the troop bay.

Joseph watched as the ground came up closer & closer until----



***********


Venturi shot awake, the sudden influx of sound ravaging his incoherent mind as he looked around. The LAOT-X was flaming debris with, it looked like, the crushed remains of one of the ball turrets and its Door Pod Gunner's mangled body in the mud. One of the RST suit's bodies was also in the mud, nearly cut in half---the lack of a safety harness. For Joseph, he was still stuck in the troop bay, his safety harness keeping him hanging as the flaming wreckage was upside down. Beyond the sparks & pops of failing powered equipment under fire conditions and the creak and grind of metal within the superstructure of the low altitude craft, outside in the mining complex the sounds of ongoing firefights could still be heard. The sky still looked in the earnest of sunset and high above in the fading sunlight, Joseph watched as two Bounce Interceptors teamed up on a Jump Fighter and the starfighter quickly dissolved into twisting and descending flaming debris, soon impacting on the forest floor below as the two interceptors rose and blasted past their kill.

His body hurting and warm liquid running down his face (which dropped into red droplets on the roof below), Joseph watched a figure run towards him and he struggled for his Standard Issue Army-Navy Revolver from its holster, finally drawing the service pistol at the last moment, readying it, and firing as the charging man came into view----an FJM trooper---three quick shots tearing into the torso of the man. The trooper fell to the muddy ground. But behind him came three more FJMs, hell bent on killing all in this downed bird, and Venturi started firing, striking one in the arm at the distance (but the trooper still came), but missing the other two. Then he heard click.

Cursing, he quickly tried to reload upside down, but when the act proved to be futile, he stopped and instead hit the release on his safety harness and he dropped to the roof of the LAOT-X. With a crumple and grunt, he pulled his boot knife from his right boot and quickly tackled the man charging him and firing wildly----and missing---and as the two came crashing into the mud, Joseph forced the knife into the man's eye with a warrior's yell. Soon, however, the other two FJMs were upon him and he wouldn't---

He watched as their bodies became riddled with an onslaught of blaster fire from out of his view to the left. As their riddled bodies dropped to the mud, Staff Sergeant Bill Zappa, Lance Corporal Teddy Riva, and Specialist Class Four Jet Wang all appeared from the side with what appeared to be the other door gunner and the other RST suit. Only Teddy & Wang still had their rifles, while Bill was reduced to his sidearm like Joseph. Both the gunner and suit looked injured---the gunner more so and needing help along by the less wounded RST suit.

"The pilots?" Joseph asked.

Bill shook his head.

The corporal nodded and went back for his pistol, retrieving it off the roof of the downed craft.

"Joseph! Move!" Teddy said, pointing up. The corporal looked up and watched as the last of the Jump starfighters became a descending flaming wreckage; cursing, Joseph ran for cover towards the mining complex as the starfighter hit the ground and flipped, rolled, and broke apart towards the LAOT-X. While the starfighter itself didn't hit the downed gunship, flaming debris and mud showered the area several yards in front of the starfighter's final resting place and where the gunship was at. Looking up, Joseph watched as the single Bounce Interceptor corrected its course from behind the destroyed Jump and rose back into the sky---only for itself to explode into a brilliant flash of flaming wreckage. As everyone went for cover again, the silhouette of a PB-950 Patrol Boat T-2 approached from the distance in front of the setting sun.

"Well," Venturi said as he joined the others near the door where the now deceased FJMs had emerged from, "That explains where the starfighters came from."

"External side hooks," the RST suit said, "Inventive little buggers."

"I'd hate to break up the love fest with the people trying to kill us," Bill stated matter-of-factly, "But if we're caught out in the open with that PB, we won't stand a chance!"

"He has a point," Wang said as he lead the way into the complex.


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


Venturi shot the FJM trooper in the face at close range as he raced across the complex's main control room---jumping over various bodies of past dead FJM troopers---and jumped over the half-circular control console, and into the other FJM trooper's chest with a kick that sent the man across the console and into the back wall. With the impact dazing him just a moment, the corporal put 2 rounds into the trooper from his revolver at extreme close range. The FJM's body reacted violently and then collapsed, blood streaking against the back wall where the rounds had torn through the trooper's body and into the back wall.

"Clear!" Joseph barked and everyone else filed in behind him, others securing the room as the suit and wounded door gunner came to the consoles to rest.

"I'm sure they heard that in other parts of the complex," Teddy said matter-of-factly as he made sure the only other exit/entrance door was locked, "We won't have long."

"We're clear from the rear," Wang said from the way they had come in. Bill joined Joseph by the 3 dead Specs behind the console, Bill checking the security cameras and other console equipment they were able to hack into. One of the Specs' ear comlink kept going off as he lay face down in the console, blood dripping from the console.

"Team A Leader, this is Black Bear. What's your status? Plan B activation in two minutes!"

Joseph took the ear bud and put it in his ear and took the mic off the dead trooper's neck and put it around his. "Whose Black Bear?" Joseph asked towards the suit (who had his back turned).

The RST suit snapped around from the other side of the console, "That's government property! And its classified!"

"Well," Bill said, "Its user is dead. Answer the corporal's question---whose Black Bear?"

"Classified," the suit said, then added---realizing that their situation was near hopeless---"Black Bear is our command and control."

"You mean Company A and the RCE, right?" Teddy asked from the other door. From the looks of the control room, Team A had gained access to the central command and control room and was directing the other two assault teams when the FJM reinforcements fought their way in to recapture it. It was clear the 3 Specs had put up a valiant, but hopeless effort to give as much intelligence to their other units before being overrun and killed. But the enemy dead well over a dozen troops, not including the control room's previous 4 security detail & 6 staff that the Specs had to first fight to gain access to the room.

The agent shook his head, "No, our command and control. Look, this is a classified operation so we had contingencies in place, in case the mission failed."

"So what's Plan B?" Joseph asked as he came up from behind the console, holding a QF-Model 1 Infantry Rifle and handing out the others to the rest of his squad (although Wang kept his rifle, since there wasn't enough QF-Model 1s for him). Joseph looked up from gathering the last of the ammo he had piled up on the top of the console after a moment of silence that went far too long. He finished emptying his old ammo and putting in the new ammo in his pouches when he said to the agent, "Well?"

"Plan B is a direct orbital bombardment on site in case communication is lost with any of the teams," the agent finally said, "Only Lieutenant Berry," the suit nodded to the LT's dead body at the console, "And me or my partner have the authorization codes to activate it. Or deactivate it, if all communication is lost. Their assuming we're dead from the crashed LAOT-X."

"Well," Teddy said, "We're not."

Joseph activated the throat comm, "Black Bear, this is Corporal Venturi. Bodyguard escort to RST agents. How copy?"

"Corporal, do you have eyes on Lieutenant Berry?"

"He's dead," Joseph replied, adding, "We have one of the RST agents with us."

"Put him on!"

"Copy, Black Bear," Joseph nodded to the agent and handed him the equipment.

The agent nodded for a moment to the now unheard speaker and then said, "Authorization Code Niner, Two, Three, Alpha, Beta, Omega, One."

The agent waited a moment, nodded, then looked to Bill and Joseph, "We have fifteen minutes or until that patrol boat leaves to find the VIP and get out of here. Once the time is up, they'll be melting this place down to the foundation. We cannot allow the VIP to that patrol boat."

Joseph finished reloading the QF-Model 1 and activated the handle pull one more time, then readied the weapon, looking at everyone, "What are we waiting for?"



TBC

 

IC: Stormtrooper Captain Kurt Stein
Army Quarters (Joker Platoon), Darkest Night, leaving low orbit over Javin to high orbit


"Lieutenant, training will be something we won't have much time for," the captain had to keep his words vague on purpose, to avoid letting slip any classified information, "At least to the degree that we would all like. If you had to enter combat, now---again---without warning, would you fight by Joker without a second thought? Not a doubt about their or your capabilities?"

The captain looked to Stark, "You've been quiet, Sergeant. Thoughts?"


TAG @TheSilentInfluence , @TheAdmiral

 

Saraali Deatar IC:
~Main Aft Hangar Bay, Darkest Night~

The pilot continued to move, annoyance still worn about her like a cloak if not immediately evident on her face with its impassive mask still in force; a voice drifted to her. Saraali paused after a few more slowed steps, her brow furrowing.

“You shouldn’t judge them.”

Who was speaking to her? The voice came from a man seemingly hiding in the shadows for some reason. Who would be doing that? She turned to look in the direction of the one who had verbally accosted her, in a manner of speaking.

As the light spilled across him, it wasn’t his face she immediately recognized. It was the uniform and its wide array of medals.

“Assumption is the first fatal mistake of any fighter pilot. Arrogance is the second.”

She allowed her eyes to widen, just enough to show the genuine effect the man had wanted to successfully achieve, and dropped her bag of equipment to the floor next to her side. Feet came together in fluid motion and her hand went to a crisp salute.

“Yes, sir, Major! Was only expecting something more…formal. Sir. My apologies.”

She held the salute until told to drop it. Saraali still didn’t recognize him yet, though when she did, she’d know exactly who he was much like the rest in the Navy who actually studied. Granted, the Major would be pleased to know she didn’t think much of what had happened to him in the past and still focused more on what she felt was the core essence that made him, him.

But whether she’d be able to reveal that fact? Only the Force could know.

Tag: Major Héctor Pérez @Bravo

 

IC: Sergeant First Class Adrias Stark
Army Quarters (Joker Platoon), Darkest Night, leaving low orbit over Javin to high orbit

Adrias almost squirmed at the mention of a blood test. He really, really, hated those, when he was a kid even the medical droids had problems drawing blood as he somehow managed to stop his veins from allowing the blood to flow to the syringe. Hopefully there won’t be any other troopers witnessing his humiliation. Cold sweat trickled down his spine and made him shudder involuntary.

The whole procedure lasted slightly longer than for the others as the medic had a hard time finding the vein, then he had to rest for a few minutes as he was going to faint. He could see the amusement in the medic’s eyes but he was used to it by now. Sergeant First Class Adrias Stark was afraid of needles and blood tests, ha, ha, very funny.

Once he was feeling better Adrias joined Lieutenant Shan in meeting Captain Stein. He took a peek at the cute Lieutenant wondering what she had gone through, but did not ask. It was not his place to do so.

The Captain made some lame jokes, so he had to smile and chuckle indulgently. He let Shan talk first, it was both chivalrous and besides she outranked him. What she said was true, though he was not sure whether the guys would like the idea of having more training. Besides it is very hard to prepare against an enemy that did not follow most of the tactics in the books. Then the Captain spoke and addressed him.

“I think that the unit is well prepared to deal with Rebels.” he started cautiously “They are quick to adapt...” he paused “I see the merit of extra training, but we have to consider the fact that the Rebellion uses unorthodox tactics and we cannot prepare for every contingency. Independent thinking and adaptability should be the key to fighting them. Sir.”

TAG: @Bravo @TheSilentInfluence

 

IC: Natalia Markova
Darkest Night

The young helmsbeing sat quietly a little fatigued but still listening intently to the chief medical officer. Seemed she would be interviewed again about the incident. Natalia furrowed her brow a little at the medical officer's words. Why wouldn't she answer the questions directly, a long and roundabout answer only wasted time. If he was good at his job why would that be unnerving, he was merely serving the Empire and its interests, what was off putting about that? Whatever concern the older woman was showing washed right off the navigational officer.

"Thank you mam'," She said simply rising from the bed, a bit of pain shot through her causing her to stumble a little but she pushed past it. It was not in her to make someone wait when she was capable. Part of her was still healing, but she was good enough to answer a few questions.

Taking the clean uniform she put it on straightening the creases leaving not a stitch out of place. Perfection was expected, nothing else would be accepted. It was a thing she could control, her appearance. The last few days have shown her that there is precious little she can shape and have absolute control over. She couldn't know when a rebel faction would attack, couldn't direct the path of each bolt as it came in, she couldn't even get to cover fast enough.

There was no pattern, there was no logic, there were no notes.

It was all just noise, noise she couldn't comprehend, couldn't bend to her will. She could make numbers dance, make a behemoth of durasteel and power glide through the black. Away from her post, she created chaos, created noise.

With her rank pin straight and hat placed squarely on her head she exited finding Richter waiting for her.

"I believe you have some questions for me?" She asked in her quiet almost whisper like voice.

TAG: @Bravo

 

IC: Major Héctor Pérez
Aft (Main) Hanger Bay, Darkest Night, High Orbit over planet of Javin (Outer Rim Territories)


He returned the salute causally like an old soldier only could, without addressing her excuses. "Walk with me, Flying Officer Deatar," Héctor said, following his words by putting his hands behind his back and walking towards the exit of the hanger bay where two Imperial Navy Troopers---flanking as sentries to each side of the blast doors as they opened---snapped to attention as the Major and Saraali passed through; the two navy troopers on the other side of the blast door did the same and as the blast doors closed behind them, eliminating the noise & smell of the hanger bay, the familiar & routine sounds of clicks, beeps, warbles, and recycled air smell of a starship's corridor replaced it. Pérez waited a moment longer as the pair's feet echoed down the corridor with little more than maintenance crews and droids in the corridors at the moment.

"Middle class family from Anaxes. Nothing remarkable to speak of for your parents, other than their extreme xenophobes behavior," Héctor started, showcasing that he had done his studying of the young fighter pilot beforehand, "They pushed you through the local Imperial Academy and streamlined your path for the best possible results. An admirable trait for any dedicated parents of the New Order. The process lead you to Anaxes War College, as was the expectation. Since graduation, your service record is flawless, no record of insubordination or negative evaluations. However, it ends there," Héctor said with purposeful emphasis. He watched her facial expressions for any hint of anger or regret for not having a mission or event that would separate her from the pack of the hundreds of thousands of other TIE Pilots in the Empire. A solid New Order upbringing, good grades, and the legendary prestige of Anaxes only got you so far in the real galaxy, especially in the endless ranks of the Empire's war machine.

"You crave to prove yourself, Flying Officer Deatar. To prove to your parents, to your instructors & professors at Anaxes, and to yourself that you're not a flash in a pan, a credit a dozen, or just a number. That you were and are meant to be something more. And after you have understood and grown to appreciate the first two mistakes of assumption and arrogance, you must understand the third and final mistake of any fighter pilot: apologies are for the dead. When you strike and commit to a course of action, you must do so with dedication that leaves no room for remorse. That, Saraali, is a mark of an ace. And that is what you will become. But," Pérez stopped in the middle of the corridor, a black RA-7 Protocol Droid excusing itself and apologizing for interrupting their conversation as it walked in between them both; Pérez waited a moment longer until the droid was a few feet away before continuing , "Your wing man is waiting for you in the hanger bay," Pérez smiled, "Play nice," As Pérez started to walk away, he stopped---looked at his watch---and said as he looked up, "Its 21:30 hours, Deatar. Your flight lieutenant is expecting you and Flying Officer Rick Johnson in thirty minutes, in the Pilots Lounge for Bad Love---Deck 41 above the TIE Fighter Launch Hanger. Captain Keth Dotch---he's a stickler for time. Don't be late."


TAG @Darth_Elu

 

IC: Elena Shan
Army Quarters (Joker Platoon), Darkest Night, leaving low orbit over Javin to high orbit

Elena looked curious, but didn't press Captain Stein for details at the mention of how little time there would be for training. That wasn't something she needed to know right now, and she was sure the Captain would tell her in good time. She turned to look at Sergeant Stark as he spoke, and nodded in agreement as his words, waiting until he had finished before she made her own thoughts known. "You make a good point Sergeant." Elena gave him a smile before she turned and looked back at Captain Stein to answer his earlier question. "Sir. I would have no doubts about Joker Platoon's capabilities if I had to enter combat with them again. We work well together, and I know we can only get stronger Sir."

Tag: @Bravo @TheAdmiral

 

IC: Stormtrooper Captain Kurt Stein
Army Quarters (Joker Platoon), Darkest Night, leaving low orbit over Javin to high orbit


Stein took in both of what the Sergeant & Lieutenant said, nodding approvingly. "Good," he looked at them both with a serious face, "We leave for the Unknown Regions in the morning, 06:00 hours. Dismissed and get some R&R while you can."

Stein left in that mic drop moment of Unknown Regions. He smiled to himself as he was now facing the opposite direction and headed away. What would they think? It wasn't classified information---or at the very least wouldn't be---within the next several hours. But they would be the first to know, the first to understand the true depth in which they were about to head into. But he also said it to see if they would tell anyone else. There was a spy, somewhere, on this ship. And they would need to find out who. So Stein put that nugget of information there, to see what they would do with it.

He would leave Elena & Adrias to their own devices now. They had the night to prepare. And truth be told, they wouldn't even have that. The Darkest Night had received time-sensitive intelligence to her security here at Javin (the spy, command suspected) and she would move---quietly---into hyperspace in the early morning hours, at exactly 01:00 hours. By then most of the overworked and emotionally strained crew would be asleep from their Javin ordeal, with only a skeleton crew to finish out the graveyard shift with droids in support (the health screening from planet-side mandating such a protocol).


TAG @TheSilentInfluence , @TheAdmiral

 

IC: Chief of Security Gotz Richter
Unit Conference Room---Chief of Security---located to the left of the Security Office & Armory, Darkest Night
(High orbit over planet of Javin)


The walk & short turbolift ride had been a relatively quick one, considering everything needing access was within or at the base of the command tower. Quick, that was, considering this was an Imp Deuce...and a half. What Richter was hoping for in that quick trek from Point A to Point B was affect. The new Chief of Security's simple nod with little words beyond "Follow me" in the corridor for the medical bay to the Unit Conference Room; the two Imperial Navy Troopers flanking her---Staff Sergeants George Ito & Rusty Oak---the duration of the short trip; the general quiet and emptiness of the corridors during the medical screening. It was the simple things, Gotz had learned since the Clone Wars, that got people talking. Creating the environment in which you chose to meet was half the battle in getting information out.

It was now, in the quietness of the small unit conference room, that Gotz used more methods to drive home the environment. He avoided the use of technology, such as datapads or even the touch viewscreen along the wall. Instead, he used flimsiplast from a overstuffed yellow folder that simply read "Englewood" hastily in black sharpie marker. The flimsi made the desired sound affect from folder to paper he had found over the years, triggering emotions with each withdraw sheet. The writing on the folder was another reminder of control---of evidence, of real world input beyond a computer screen---Gotz had often used. He also made sure only one of the navy troopers was in here with him and Natalia---this one being Oak standing behind him and to his left---while Ito stood sentry outside the conference room door. It was all designed to be minimalist, to force the subject to focus on what little there was to distract them. A touch screen viewscreen or datapad gave the subject too many audio and physical outputs & inputs to focus on all at once, as well as did the amount of people (Gotz had always favored 3 as the best approach: one guard, one subject, one questioner). By reducing the distractions, Gotz elevated the chances of getting the information he wanted, as it didn't allow the subject to focus on anything else but the facts and the events; it forced their mind to a minimalist mindset of thinking and Richter had always found that's when he could get slip-ups, misinformation, and other information (factual or not) that gave him a better picture of what was going on with the subject and the events.

And all of this would work on a guilty party. Very effectively. The problem was that Richter had no reason to believe---or facts, let alone---that Captain Natalia Markova was responsible for Commodore Peter Englewood's death. She was simply a factual witness to the events leading up to, during, and after his death. But she was the most important. She was a by-the-books, numbers approach mindset; let alone having to be for her job as piloting a mighty ISD, that mindset also earned her slicing interest as a serious contender to her current piloting job. Or, at the very least, an equal to it. All of this lead Richter back to focus and why he treated her no differently then a suspected criminal---or, in reality, anyone for that matter (he had been doing this style of questioning so long that he couldn't remember the last time he did it differently).

Per her service record, she was logical, structured, and pattern-based in her approach. One plus one went to two and so forth. Everything connected for a logical conclusion to fit the ends that she desired for each applicable issue she faced. She looked at the science and math behind the function to meet the need. A square fit into a square, not a circle into a square. And it was this approach that would be most helpful. Her recalling of events should align with her pattern of scientific, numbers thinking. And it would be this detailed review that might, finally, bring these pieces together. He had pieced together everyone else's notes, reports, and reviews on the subject and had a mostly complete puzzle, except he was still left with a few puzzle pieces that needed to be inserted.

He lifted out one piece of flimsiplast and put it down, then two others. The first photo was a quick photo someone had taken of the "away team" to Lepsawn 1-9, a highly suspect and illegal use of military personnel (which would have seen the Commodore court-martialed, if not outright kicked out of the navy all together if he hadn't been murdered). "Lepsawn 1-9's away team," Richter spoke finally from the head of the table as he looked up at Natalia and pointed at each photo in turn as he spoke, "Commodore Peter Englewood, commodore and commanding officer of the Darkest Night and leader of the Lepsawn 1-9 away team," he pointed to the last photo, "Queen Natasha the Bold, ruler of Lepsawn 1-9. Three more photos," Richter said, laying out the next three personnel photos under the first three to form a box of 6; he pointed to each in turn like he did the first 3, "Master Sergeant Dax and Master Sergeant Davis, both assigned to Lepsawn 1-9 as Special Intelligence to," he took out the last photo to form the box, "Captain Jeffery Vicks, Imperial diplomatic corps assigned to Lepsawn 1-9. Four more photos," he said, aiming to place them off to the right of the six original photos, now withdrawing a photo that showed the commodore's last moments before he was launched into deep space and his final rest with the funeral detail.

He then showcased three murder scene photos: the first was of a white sheet, with soaked blood marks, over a body in a back alleyway; the tattoo that showed off the right bicep arm of the personnel folder of Master Sergeant Daz was the same tattoo that showed off of a lifted part of the misplacement of the white sheet over the dead body. Next was another white sheet with red blood marks soaked into it over the body in the front seat of a landspeeder, the murdered body full of blaster holes at close range---with a black arm extended over the opened window of the door; it was assumed to be Master Sergeant Davis' body. The last photo showed another blood soaked white sheet over a body riddled with blaster bolts outside the landspeeder; the body's white cape was a little bit out from the white sheet to one side, as was his black Imperial officer boots, referencing Captain Vicks' body.

Richter sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers together under his chin with his elbows resting on the armrests of the chair, "Of your away team, everyone returned but Commodore Englewood. In your away team's interactions, you encountered the Queen and both Master Sergeants Dax and Davis, who were assisting and protecting both the Queen and, in specific, Captain Vicks. Dax, Davis, Vicks, and Englewood are all dead. All murdered. A common thread, for sure. But by whom and for what? What can you tell me, Captain Markova, of the events on Lepsawn 1-9? Be as detailed and free of speech as you desire. There is no judgement here for you, but the truth we seek for justice for the dead."


TAG @galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Hunk of Junk, Somewhere near the Velcar Free Commerce Zone
(Several hours prior to the events with Corporal Joseph Venturi)

"Gutsy." Havah stated, his eyes squinting at the three TIE Fighters that followed them through the bottle necked cruisers. That took guts and a healthy dose of a Corellian deathwish, but ultimately no matter how narrowly they made it through, all four of them.

The kid had some potential still, so long as he didn't become absorbed in the illusion of his own success and abilities to defy death. The three TIEs broke into a more causal following formation and approached with guns blazing, they still had to survive. Whoever these TIE Pilots were, they were a step above the rest, either in skill or lack of brains, and as Havah and Winterkill both shot ineffectually he had to begrudgingly mark them as the former instead of the later. Made their jobs all the harder. Palso's constant flipping, rolling, and banking of the freighter to get the best shots for the turrets, was in a way also a hindrance, as no one was letting him know what was about to try and be lined up for him. It made a situation that made it hard for the enemy to hit them and him hard to hit them. Maybe in the after action they could see about adding a subroutine or droid to call out ship maneuvers?

"Bantha Poodoo!" Winterkill exclaimed in a small echoing voice, and Havah grunted in agreement. Glancing back down the well and then back to his own ineffectual counter shots brought a stellar phenomena to his attention off to starboard that wasn't one of the many passing by or impacting TIE green laser cannon bolts. It was an odd ruddy color, likely a blue to the human visual spectrum, and as he brought his turret to bare on the sight for a moment as his shots weren't working anyway as the pilot in the cockpit of this light freighter decided to fly towards it, Havah had to sigh. When guns failed this kid jumped straight to the death defying antics. If he was going to die, and secretly he wanted to, he had hoped not to take anyone else with him. Die a hero maybe, be that sacrificial stand that saved others and maybe made some small dent in the debt of his own soul. Not as a casualty of someone else's stupidity along with several others.

Another shake throughout the starship, which meant another hit. The shaking & jolting was at a consistence to the point that the possible beauty of the phenomena was replaced by the terror and awe of the power behind and inside that blue wave that spanned further then the eye could see. Shooting at the TIEs he occasionally shot toward the wave as they skimmed, hoping he could maybe cause an eruption to consume the following TIEs.

The light freighter shook again as another impact found home.

Winterkill's gun went silent, kriff. He hoped the Nagai was alright. Death or salvation? That was for Winterkill, but he hoped it either wasn't too serious a malfunction or that his friend had found the peace that evades their kind of living lives.

"One more direct hit to the aft and we're done for! The turrets can't get a lock on those TIEs!" Havah could hear someone yell from below---apparently some people didn't want to give the odds of life and death a chance but were stating it as a forgone conclusion at this point.

"I'm sorry Martha," said someone else from below, "I didn't make it home. Forgive me."

Someone needed to put a cork in it! He didn't have time to get properly sauced to deal with someone being that melancholy. It was then he saw Winterkill finally come alive and take another TIE out of the fight in a spectacular fashion. Sentenced to the deep void.

Not to be outdone had Havah redoubled his efforts, feeling that swelling pride and confidence that truly never belonged to a person as the worlds fell away. Shooting off again in a pattern that was pure instinct he finally clipped a TIE solar wing causing it to spin off into the wave. Suddenly, the light freighter was on its nose and dived down the depth of the wave, Havah watching as the last remaining TIE behind him getting caught by it and simply vanishing before his very eyes---no explosion. No debris. Just gone like the wayward TIE he had blown a solar panel off of. And moments after that, Havah watched as the blue wave passed over them and was gone, racing its way across the galaxy.

They had made it. As the Hunk of Junk slowed down and leveled out, Havah heard Palso's and Winterkill's voice over the ship-wide comm and he responded through his headset moments before taking it off.

"Everyone check in. Status report? And who got those two kills on those TIEs?"

""Dorsal turret," Winterkill replied, "All is green here. I got one TIE. I don't know who bagged the other. The third---I saw it disappear into that blue wave. Just vanish."

"Ventral turret," Havah stated, "Who do you think got the other? There was no friendly fire today." he stated with a cheer and joy in his joking manner that he oddly felt. If only for a moment before he took off the headset and began removing the crash webbing as he saw the scopes finally clear. Soon, the starlines stretched out and the blue tunnel of hyperspace wrapped around the apt named freighter.

"Maybe next time." he whispered to no one as he rolled his next looking at the blue swirl, a private conversation with death and the dead. "Maybe next time."


TAG @Bravo , @greyjedi125 if he wants to read it

 

OOG:

@greyjedi125 & @Mitth_Fisto , I'll finish this post tomorrow with tags. The night got away from me in posting details to flush out the scene. I hope the details were good, at least!


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


IC: Jim Palso & Winterkill (Part 1)
Somewhere


Palso sucked in the stale recycled air like a fish dying to breath out of water, the suffocating black hood also revealing the blinding light as his eyes tried to adjust. He turned his face from the intense glare of light, but was unable to bring either of his hands to shield his eye balls physically and give them a fighting chance to adjust more causally, as his wrists were bound behind his back by handcuffs. The tightness of the metal cuffs dug into his wrists and while uncomfortable, the constant dull pain in the back of his knees was a reminder of the stun stick applied to the back of his knees that put him kneeling on this cold floor.

Okay, so he got it. He was in a hanger bay of some type. And as his blurry vision crystallized into seeing more defined shapes, he could see just that: a massive hanger bay. He looked around, watching the various odd looking---indeed, alien looking---starships be taxied around, as well as familiar and unfamiliar ground vehicles. A rather lack of droids was very clear, as there were numerous human organic beings---although a handful of odd placed, rare, or never seen before aliens were among them---everywhere.

"Hanger blast doors closing. Hanger blast doors closing."

Came a male voice through the overhead intercom. Through the deck, Palso could feel the vibration of heavy-duty machinery pushing & pulling something of dense & heavy proportions; he looked ahead---under a ship parked directly in front and blocking much of his view---as much as he could and watched as 2 super heavy hanger doors closed over the ventral hanger opening, showing the black starry painted background of outer space, from opposite port to starboard sides. Before the slow moving doors came together in the middle, Jim turned his attention back to his predicament directly around him. Now with the blurry vision gone, he could see more clearly to his immediate surroundings. First, he wasn't the only one kneeing and with a hood over their face.

Which was good---from a certain point of view.

The other humanoid forms next to him in a long line to his right were everyone from the Hunk of Junk.

Which, once again, was good from a certain point of view.

Behind them by about 10 yards was a company's worth of 100 (96 in formation) weird looking dressed soldiers that formed a complete upside down U surrounding them in a single line, with two smartly dressed officers at either extreme end of the U (with fancy infantry swords unsheathed and held pointed down onto the deck in between their legs) and a single smartly dressed officer (his sword sheathed---thankfully) with a senior NCO facing the U formation and in front of Palso & company by about 5 yards. Well, weird as in who wears uniforms like that? And weird, because, what are those long-barreled weapons with the butt of the rifle to their right foot of their shoulder-width apart stance and the long barrel of the weapon pointed out at an angle off to the right? Their left hand was behind their backs, while their right hand gripped the barrel of the weapon (the senior NCO stood and was armed the same). Each of the soldiers also had a black covered holster on their left (or right) gun-belt around their waist (cross-draw belt holster for a quick draw), housing---Palso assumed---an equally unique service pistol. The officers also had one of the unique pistols, but no long barreled rifle.

Directly behind the kneeling humanoids was a equally weird dressed guard behind each of them (each of the 7 guards had a sword of some kind on their hips, the same unique cross-draw belt holster as the infantry soldiers with unique service pistol, and equally colorful clothing---their shirts being a bright flashy red)---each now holding the hoods once on their faces---with another two of the guards facing them (legs shoulder width apart and their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, their other hand resting on their holster), closer than the two infantry gentlemen 5 yards behind. And just beyond the two further distanced soldiers facing the upside down U---well, that was the Hunk of Junk!

Sometimes it was hard to recognize a ship you owned for less then a day. The primary landing ramp was down with two more of the red-shirt guards flanked the ramp---standing like the two guards facing the group---while a third guard off to the right of the ramp with Walking Library and Bugger. Two more infantry soldiers standing like their comrades in the upside down U formation flanked the pair of droids. In between the two guards watching the 7 prisoners and facing the U formation infantry soldiers was a single sharply dressed naval officer with what appeared to be an lower ranked officer holding a datapad to his left and behind and a chiefly looking senior NCO (most likely head of security) to his right and slightly more behind. While the lower ranked officer typed up something, the senior NCO stood there stone-cold with arms behind his back and legs shoulder width apart; the senior NCO was angled in such a way as to see both the on-goings of the Hunk of Junk as 6 of the flashy red shirts with swords came down the ramp (most likely a search party) and see Palso and company. Beyond the Hunk of Junk---on the other side of the ship and surrounding her---was a loose formation of 9 of the flashy red shirts with swords standing like the 2 guarding the lowered landing ramp to the light freighter; these sentries were there to prevent entry into the larger area and light freighter.

If Palso did his math right---Force knew he was horrible at math---that was a company's worth of infantry soldiers and 3 squads of lighter security personnel, in addition to the two fancy naval officers and fancy senior naval NCO. So---err---130 personnel? That sounds about right for a capture and search operation, although personally Palso thought they were a bit heavy on the infantry and should have stayed at the typical platoon size commonly used. But, this strength here, was used to drive home a point of superiority.

The lead NCO of the 6 men who boarded the light freighter went to the sharply dressed naval officer.

"All clear, Captain Stakes," the man reported, adding, "My men found nothing."

Captain? Was he the commanding officer here?

The sharply dressed man nodded, "I'll inform the Commodore, Sergeant."

Nope, apparently not the man in charge. But maybe within the upper management?

"Yes, sir," the man nodded; the sergeant stayed behind at the ramp with his 5 men a moment longer, where two crewmen came into Palso's view from the right and out of the "security zone"---one crewmen lesser ranked, the other higher ranked----were one in front of a hover cart carrying equipment and one behind it. The two crewmen went to the sergeant.

"If the scanners pick up anything, let us know immediately."

The two crewmen nodded and started unloading their equipment from the cart immediately. The sergeant looked at his 5 other guards and nodded for them to come with him, where they departed the scene, leaving 3 of their squad behind to continue their duties (the 2 sentries at the ramp and the 3rd guarding the droids).

It was at this time that Jim watched the leading naval officer finishing a conversation with a comlink and putting it back on his belt. It was in this moment of waiting that Jim turned to his fellow Mercs.

"What happened to us?" Palso asked.

Winterkill shook his head as he knelt besides Jim to his right. Havah was on Winterkill's far side, Taller next to Havah, and then so-on with the others. "Don't know," the nagai replied factually, shaking his head, "You?"

Jim shook his head, "Nope. All I remember is exiting hyperspace where the Johnny Boy should have been. Then, well, nothing. No memory."

"This is not good," Winterkill said flatly.


TBC

 

IC: Elena Shan
Army Quarters (Joker Platoon), Darkest Night, leaving low orbit over Javin to high orbit

Elena stood at attention and saluted Captain Stein as he dismissed them, and then relaxed as he left. The Unknown Regions. What could the Empire possibly want there? Elena shook her head and turned to Sergeant Stark. "That's not what I was expecting." She sighed and shook her head, looking more awake then she had felt in the last few hours. "Do you want to join me for a drink Sergeant Stark? I think it's important we get to know each other better before we head off to prepare for the morning. I don't really sleep anyway." Elena shrugged and didn't look bothered, though the dark circles under her eyes would tell otherwise. When was the last time I had a full sleep through the night? At the Academy? I don't really remember anymore.

I wonder if grandfather has something to do with this assignment. At least it keeps us on our toes. But how long will we be gone? Will we even come back? Elena shook her head and sighed, and looked back at Sergeant Stark. She wondered if he would agree to have a drink with her, or want to be left to his own devices. He seems okay. But I still need to know if he's completely on the Empire's side. That's what grandfather would want.

Tag: @Bravo @TheAdmiral

 

IC: Natalia Markova
Darkest Night

The young navigator followed the Security Chief flanked by two guards without question or protest. The quiet walk was somehow calming. The rigid and samey halls of a the Star Destroyer comforting in their unchanging nature. It was an odd thought to think of a ship of war as comforting but she felt safe, something she desperately needed after the chaos of the R&R. A feeling of security and peace washed over her. Here nothing could harm her, surrounded by this metal she couldn't be touched.

It was a surprisingly brisk walk to the interview room, something quite remarkable given the distances involved. Richter was clearly not one to waste time or to mess about. An admirable quality in an officer. She could appreciate the efficiency of his tactics. Thought there was a slight feeling of unease, as if she was being called into the headmaster's office.

In the room she was first stuck by the lack of anything technological beyond that of an illuminator. An attempt to control the environment or merely an uncomfortability with tech? This likely wouldn't be the place or time to ask such a question but it was on her mind. He presented an overstuffed file folder, a bit of a waste Natalia thought, the resources used to make the flimsiplast could have been used elsewhere. Images were laid out before her, the Away team, the Commodore, the Queen, Dax, Davis and Vicks. It was unsurprising until it was revealed that Dax was now dead. For the frist time her face showed some emotion. A slight furrowing of her brow, when was this taken, after the attack on Javin?

Her eyes narrowed at it just a little, it certainly wasn't on Lespawn 1-9 he was very much alive after that altercation.

The chief drew her attention, he was the only thing in the room to draw it, the navy trooper was silent and still like a statue.

"What can you tell me, Captain Markova, of the events on Lepsawn 1-9? Be as detailed and free of speech as you desire. There is no judgement here for you, but the truth we seek for justice for the dead."

"Sir," She started nodding her head, "The XO Captain Trotter ordered me, on the Commodore's orders, to the hangar in non-regulation clothing. Which I followed. Once at the hangar The Commodore ordered Communication Officer G'Spaugh, Flight Lieutenant Baille Harte, Alex Qipao19, Chef Jinglehimer Voss, and myself to board a waiting shuttle. On board he explained his plan to infiltrate a Golan-arms Space Defense Gun, disable it's weapons and slice data from its core. As we landed on the planet we were greeted by Queen Natasha, Vicks, Dax and Davis, along with an UNMF protection detachment. As the Commodore explained our presence on the planet, the Queen did not seem to like the Empire conducting such an action on her planet. As we were escorted towards a conference room the Commodore and Vicks had a discussion, I do not know the details they where whispering. When the Queen rejoined us with an entourage of Handmaidens, the Royal Messenger and the Grand Royal Adviser. The queen apologized for the delay there was a United Islands matter that she had to see to. That was when she announced her intention to accompany the Away team to assist with our infiltration. There was much discord between herself and Vicks, with Vicks questioning the legality of it. The queen then gave us 12 hours to remove all Imperial Forces, and to complete our mission. The queen departed, leaving us to prepare. In that time, I had asked the Commodore why we remained when our ally had made their displeasure clear. The Commodore stated that it was not our presence that displeased her, that something else had in his words 'Spooked' her. I asked permission to slice into the security system. He gave it non-verbally as we were ushered to our transports, a full speedercade to take us to the spaceport. I was placed into the same speeder as the Commodore and the Queen. A ruse to allow me access to the holo-net was made, the Commodore gave the pretense that my sister had past and I needed to communicate with my family. I have no sister sir. I sliced my way into the security systems and found little of note, though I was picking up on the fact that certain streets were blocked off, that our route was being diverted. On the comms I picked up an encoded message using Imperial codes. I decrypted the message and came to the belief that someone possibly within the Empire was attempting to attack the city using the assassination of the queen a their inciting incident. It was around this time that local communications were cut, though Imperial communications remained open. The Vehicle containing Vicks, Dax and Davis crossed in front of us being pursued. The Commodore ordered us out of the vehicle…" She paused recalling the incident with a cold feeling running up her spine. "The vehicle was then stuck, and I was knocked unconscious. When my consciousness returned we were under attack, the second vehicle rammed into a water tower which snipers were using as a nest to fire down on our position. We were forced to flee to a boutique, there two UNMF confronted a dark clothed man that had carried the queen to the location. As they leveled their rifles at him he lashed out with a glowing double-bladed sword. It sliced through the weapons with little resistance. The man then left claiming to clear a path. As he left we came under assault from more terrorists from across the street, as we lacked anything with range I came up with a plan…" Again she paused recalling the moment that was approaching. "I would activated the fire suppression system in the building across the street, then overload the power grid. My intent was to create a distraction, however I didn't take into account the local power standards. The end results were the death by electrocution of our enemies." It was so cold so clinical, though a trained interrogator would see the wideness of her pupils and the hammering of her carotid artery. She was clearly stressed by this retelling. "We made our escape out the back entrance of the building where we were met by Master Sergeant Dax with Vicks and Davis nowhere to be seen. Getting into the vehicle we started to make our way back to the government building, on the commodore's orders. However a pair of gunships accosted us. I attempted to guide us through covered areas to protect us, and keeping an eye out through sliced security cameras for the second gunship. An Imperial piloted gunship brought down one of the opposing aircraft and began taking the Queen, Dax, the Commodore, Voss and myself, back to the Garrison in accordance with Red Smoke Protocol. The second Gunship accosted us, and was protected by a sensor baffler which made acquiring a missile lock impossible. I was attempting to predict the next movements of the target to assist with missile lock, to prevent the troopers from attempting a sucidal attempt at a mid-air jump onto the enemy gunship, when the queen rescinded her withdraw order, allowing Imperial TIE fighters to bring down the gunship. We were taken to the Garrison where the Commodore gave us leave and later we found out he'd been poisoned and a Private Calder of the Imperial Army was in custody, however Master Sergeant Dax was also at the scene. We were transferred back to the Darkest Night, where it was discovered the Synox was the poison used on the Commodore. It did not seem logical that Private Clader, a man with a short and clean record, would have motive and means to kill the Commodore in the way that he was." She was editorializing, adding her own views on the incident, she just felt as though it should be stated, if they were looking for justice then perhaps that was useful to know. "And that is my recollection of the events on Lespawn 1-9"

TAG: @Bravo

 

IC: Chief of Security Gotz Richter
Unit Conference Room---Chief of Security---located to the left of the Security Office & Armory, Darkest Night
(High orbit over planet of Javin)


Richter had been taken notes, once again hoping the crude pencil noise on ancient paper on top a desk had the desired effect within the environment. While he was unsure of the effect, he was sure she was uncomfortable. But it wasn't him that made her uncomfortable. It was the recalling of events. He took interesting note of her application of personal investigation methods to assign blame or not assign blame to this "Private Clader" from the local Imperial Garrison. A name he had seen mentioned in the reports, regarding the Commodore's death.

But he had circled a name that had heard come up three times in the closing section of her speech. And the name was crucial to several of the dead.

Master Sergeant Dax.

"Thank you Captain Markova," Richter said, ending his notes with some last minute personal reference points & reminders at the bottom of his otherwise full page before looking up, "Do you have any questions for me?"


TAG @galactic-vagabond422

 

OOG:

@greyjedi125 & @Mitth_Fisto ; I got to this post late tonight and couldn't finish it. I'll finish it Tuesday or Wednesday night, when I'm not falling asleep at the computer.


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


IC: Jim Palso & Winterkill (Part 2)
Somewhere


"What's our chances?" Palso whispered.

Winterkill looked around the hanger and after a long moment, "Less then zero. Even with Havah by my side, we'd both be cut down within twenty seven point three seconds before we could free any of you. Then you would all be killed. Or tortured for information, then killed. Their organized, trained, and extremely well disciplined. Just look at how they all stand, per their job station? Everyone has a certain style to their job. That translates to deep cultural pride in their individual roles within the larger whole of many different roles. Regardless of their role, its all done exactly the same per their individual role. Only Imperial Stormtroopers are so well trained in parade drill."

"Why twenty seven point three seconds and not thirty seconds?"

"I was being optimistic," Winterkill replied to Palso flatly, "Realistically, we have twenty point two seconds. And that's assuming they are distracted in trying to keep you and the others alive during the fight. If they don't care about your value to any schemes of theirs, then our chances dip under fifteen point four seconds."

"Wonderful," Palso replied dryly, "Are you out of your cuffs?"

"I've been out of them since before they took the hood off my face."

"Showoff," Palso replied with a whisper, struggling against his cuffs with no success and a look of frustration on his face.

In the distance, off to the right, a set of double blast doors opened. The two red-shirted sword-carrying guards flanking the large doors snapped to attention as a man with a cape passed through with what looked to be that guy from the Monastery Moon.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Palso barked a bit too loud under his breath, receiving a hit in the back of his head from the guard who stood behind him.

"Quiet scum!" the guard snapped back sternly to Jim.

"Nine point ten seconds," Winterkill adjusted his calculation with a whisper.

The man came to the front of the line of Mercs and looked them over. "A pitiful group," Lord Alic Tarfa said coldly, as Billy stood to his left and behind him with his thumbs through his gun-belt on either side of his belt buckle.

"Speak for yourself!" Taller snapped back.

"So says the man who stole from me," Alic replied with steel.

"We stole for you," Taller corrected.

"You provided me an incomplete copy of the Fragments of the Lost Kingdom," Alic replied back with force, "And you thought I was the fool to think I sent you there for a copy? Insult my family, dear sir, is one thing. Insult my dignity and be prepared to die."

"What do you want? The Fragments?" Taller asked.

Alic laughed, "You really have no idea what is going on, do you? Its not what I want. Its what you want. You knew we would track you."

"Where's the Johnny Boy?" Taller asked, redirecting the conversation.

"Safe. Unharmed. Of no concern at the moment," Alic replied coldly, redirecting the conversation.

"No concern?" Taller echoed, adding, "Where. Is. My. Ship!"

"Of no concern, I said,," Alic replied with force as he marched over to Palso and dragged the man out of the line and threw him to the ground in front of the others, "However, this is my concern!!!" the spymaster withdrew his NexGen Issued Army-Navy Revolver and pointed it point blank at the Corellian as Jim lay there on his back, hands up in a surrender stance. Tarfa cocked the hammer back of the pistol with a solid click to make the point.

"Go ahead," Taller said, "Waste 'em!"

"Captain!" Palso said, looking at his commanding officer, then looked up to the spymaster, "No, don't listen to him!"

Taller rolled his eyes, "I can replace him with a hundred more gunfighters just like him."

"Look," Jim replied, looking at Taller, "If you're still upset over the whole captain of my ship, captain of your ship thing, look cap, I'll make it up to you! Name your price!"

"Just shoot 'em already!" Taller forced, adding, "He's of no concern to us. If you want him, he can be yours. I hear Corellians make great moving targets for target practice."

"Unfortunately," Tarfa spoke, putting the hammer back to its safe position slowly and then lowering and then holstering the pistol, "You can't just replace him."

Jim smiled and looked at cap, "When this is all done, I'm going with the bad guy. He likes me more then you."

"That's not hard to do," Taller replied to Palso, seeing that his plan to play chicken had failed.

"Where is Jason Lasso?" Tarfa asked, bringing all the Mercs' curious attention to the spymaster.

"Dead," Palso replied softly, shaking his head, "I couldn't..." Jim ended the reply short and just finished with, "He died a hero."

"And in there lies the problem we have," Tarfa said, "The wrong person died."

"You can say that again," Taller said under his breath, but loud enough for Palso to hear.

"How rude!" Jim replied.

"It's not a ****ing joke!" Tarfa lashed out, driving a kick into Jim's ribs that made the Corellian grunt in pain, "The wrong person died! And it changed the timeline! It changed everything!"

"Screw you," Palso replied with a grunt to the spymaster, "I'm going with the captain who wants to shoot me."


TBC

 

Saraali Deatar IC:
~Aft Hangar Bay, Darkest Night~

“Walk with me, Flying Officer Deatar.”

“Sir.”

She fell into step beside the Major as he moved out of the hangar and into the adjoining corridor. Saraali remained quiet as he did so, knowing full well that she was expected to do so. To speak now would practically be falling into insubordination. She eyed the Navy Troopers guarding the doors on either side and saw them give their own salutes as expected of any competent soldier.

As the man stayed quiet, she found herself wondering what he was going to do. He had already reprimanded her on passing by the fools in the Hangar, was that all there was to it? Or was further action on the way?

All this time and now I trip up?

Saraali nearly started gritting her teeth, but refrained as her superior finally seemed to find his voice again.

“Middle class family from Anaxes.”

Oh. It was lecture time and he had studied up on her. She was sure how she felt about this. The fact a further lecture was coming in wasn’t good of course, but the fact that he knew about her was a good sign.

Wasn’t it?

“Nothing remarkable to speak of for your parents, other than their extreme xenophobes behavior.”

The comment on her parents was slightly grating, but it was nevertheless true. She couldn’t dispute the fact and it was one she herself wasn’t entirely sure why they were so radical on.

“They pushed you through the local Imperial Academy and streamlined your path for the best possible results. An admirable trait for any dedicated parents of the New Order. The process lead you to Anaxes War College, as was the expectation.”

All true. Where was he going with this though she wondered. She continued to keep silent and waited for her turn to speak, if she was even to be allowed it. Some officers just expected to be obeyed.

“Since graduation, your service record is flawless, no record of insubordination or negative evaluations. However, it ends there.”

Saraali kept her face neutral as she always did, though a small tick in her cheek betrayed the deeper feelings she had on the matter. So that was where the man was going to hit. Somewhere she herself had always agonized over. No detractions, but no real showings either. In the end…

She was nobody.

The sheer fact she didn’t rage was to be commended in her inner opinion, she certainly felt like doing so. She did many times. She also never did allow it to control her, as was the case now.

The Major was studying her now and she held her ground, as they had paused where they now stood, and merely watched him silently.

“You crave to prove yourself, Flying Officer Deatar. To prove to your parents, to your instructors & professors at Anaxes, and to yourself that you’re not a flash in a pan, a credit a dozen, or just a number. That you were and are meant to be something more.”

All true. She would have nearly called him a seer if it hadn’t occurred to her that nearly everyone wanted to prove themselves. But perhaps it was a bit more pointed in her case.

“And after you have understood and grown to appreciate the first two mistakes of assumption and arrogance, you must understand the third and final mistake of any fighter pilot: apologies are for the dead.”

Saraali allowed herself to keep up her impassive expression, though only barely. So she had tripped up again in such a short span since arrival. In her effort to feel out the type of officer the Major was, she had already veered the wrong direction. Just wonderful. Some like the apologetic type, made them feel more powerful. Especially when it was a woman beneath them.

It seemed this Major was not of that Imperial garden variety. Both refreshing and also frustrating due to her…well. Assumption.

“When you strike and commit to a course of action, you must do so with dedication that leaves no room for remorse. That, Saraali, is a mark of an ace. And that is what you will become. But,"

Here they paused as the black RA-7 droid came between them, excusing itself for its interruption. She cast it only the briefest of glances before turning her full attention back to the Major, meeting his gaze despite her feeling of being struck through with proverbial blaster bolts.

“Your wing man is waiting for you in the hanger bay. Play nice.”

He began to move again, this time clearly meant to be on his own and a form of dismissal. She offered a salute at his retreating form, trying desperately to fight down the urge to sigh in exasperated fashion before noticing him turn to face her again.

“Its 21:30 hours, Deatar. Your flight lieutenant is expecting you and Flying Officer Rick Johnson in thirty minutes, in the Pilots Lounge for Bad Love—Deck 41 above the TIE Fighter Launch Hanger. Captain Keth Dotch—he’s a stickler for time. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, sir! And thank you for the advice.”

She gave another, quick, salute before pivoting on her heel and marching back toward the hangar. It would appear she would have to deal with the fools after all. According to the Major there was some promise to them. Well, worthy of a chance at least. Very well, she would give it to them and for their sake she hoped they made the most of it.

Returning to the noise and smell of the hangar bay, she cast her eyes about until she located two, probably now confused, men with the horrible cardboard sign. Gripping the bag in her other hand a little tighter, she marched toward them.

Arrogance was fatal for a pilot he had said. Hm.

Clearly objective comparisons were ok however? It was obvious she was better than they were. Well, it was time to find out.

“Flying Officer Saraali Deatar, reporting. Got a little turned around.”

Tag: Major Héctor Pérez, Engineer Rudy Ash, & Flying Officer Rick Johnson @Bravo

 

IC: Flying Officer Rick Johnson & Rudy Ash
Aft (primary) Hanger Bay, Darkest Night


“Flying Officer Saraali Deatar, reporting. Got a little turned around.”

The two men jumped, the one cardboard carrying sign man with a sharpie lid in his mouth. From the multiple cross-outs of equally numerous misspelled names running down the depth of the cardboard, it had appeared the pair---or more correctly the Flying Officer with the sharpie---was becoming desperate in his search. At the bottom of the cardboard, below the latest cross-outed name, was the line, Is Anyone There??? At least the TIE Pilot could have fun in failure.

The mechanic man, meanwhile, was chuckling, holding out a mechanic's dirty hand to Rick Johnson and rubbing his index finger & thumb together. "Pay up, Flying Officer Johnson."

The cardboard carrying man rolled his eyes, dropping the cardboard and stuffing a hand into his dress uniform pocket and withdrawing some Imperial Credits. He payed the mechanic, who walked away with a smile, "Until next time, Johnson."

Rick was counting his remaining credits and shaking his head as he put the credits back into his pocket, "Stupid mechanics!" he voiced in frustration and looked up, seeing Saraali still standing there. As if reminded about military protocol suddenly, he jerked to being as proper as he could, "Flying Officer Rick Johnson," he glanced at the cardboard, feeling embarrassed, and slid the cardboard to behind him and flipped it face down with his foot, "Mechanics! Right? They can't spell to save their lives!"

She was steel. Razor steel.

"So, yeah," Rick said, "I'm your wing-man---woman---I mean man," he struggled to find the correct title, as he had never worked with a female pilot before.

Okay, games were over! He needed to reclaim his authority here. He was the vet, she was just some new pilot. Probably barely knew how to taxi a TIE Fighter, let alone fly it. Explains why she got thrown in with Bad Love Squadron, the reject starfighter squadron of the Imperial Navy.

Johnson cleared his throat, regaining himself, "We have an appointment with Captain Keth Dotch, our flight officer. He's a stickler for time. Let me show you the way, Flying Officer," they had walked several yards back towards the blast doors with the navy trooper sentries and were exiting the hanger and into the quieter and cleaner corridor, when Johnson finally said something to break the awkward silence between the two, "So, do you have a call-sign?" he looked at her steel expression and rolled his eyes to make a dramatic effective, "I know, I know! We should only go by our identifications numbers while in flight," he shook his head, "Here, at Bad Love, Major Héctor Pérez, he lets us do our thing. As long as we're all proper and shiny for the admirals's inspections, he says he wants his pilots to fly naturally. Be natural, as ease. Not all by the books. Might explain why we've improved so much under him. We even got mentioned in the Imperial Press Corps last month for acing all our inspections. Anyways, when you meet the Major, he's this tall," Johnson was using his hands to illustrate, "Balder then a bowling ball and, oh yeah, a chest full of medals!" As Johnson lead his new wing-man---woman---to their destination, he asked again, "So, what's your call-sign?" he asked, adding, "I'm pretty sure its Razor or Steel or---" he grinned at his next mention, "---Razor Steel!!!"



TAG @Darth_Elu

 

IC: Natalia Markova
Darkest Night

Natalia looked down her fingers starting to tap on her leg, a nervous tick that was starting to show. The sound of a pencil on a piece of paper filled the room. It puzzled her why he would use such outdated technology. Though that was almost secondary to the still unpleasant memories of Lespawn still floating through her mind. She couldn't change the past, couldn't make it like what she did never happened. She didn't know exactly how to move on, other than just not thinking about it. It was hard to do when she was being asked to relive it.

When the question being asked it finally gave her something to think about something other than her actions.

"Can you tell me how Master Sergeant Dax died, and who was responsible?"

TAG: @Bravo

 

IC: Sergeant First Class Adrias Stark
Army Quarters (Joker Platoon), Darkest Night, leaving low orbit over Javin to high orbit

Adrias allowed for a small smile when the Lieutenant agreed with him, but quickly reverted it back to his previous focused self when the Captain spoke again. They were going to leave for the Unknown Regions! He stifled a groan, going away from civilization and into an area where they could get killed at any moment. Adrias had mixed feelings about it, on one hand he was intrigued and kind of excited at the prospect of doing more exploration, but on the other it meant that he would have to say goodbye to the comfortable life.

The Sergeant saluted silently and was approached by the cute Lt. He tried not to grin, he would simply look like an idiot if he did that. “I am not sure I can sleep either, sir.” he said “So, a drink or two would work best.” he pushed back a cheesy line about getting to know each other better, after all she was his superior. Adrias then gestured “Lead the way, sir.” he smirked, after all ladies first he thought amused.

TAG: @Bravo @TheSilentInfluence

 

IC: Elena Shan
Army Quarters (Joker Platoon), Darkest Night, leaving low orbit over Javin to high orbit

Elena gave Sergeant Stark an amused looked and nodded back at him. "Thank you Sergeant."She led the way to the lounge, motioning her hand so he would walk beside her. "I was hoping I hadn't scared you off. I'm afraid I can come across as rather cold when I join a new unit, and to new arrivals. But I need to know that I can trust them. I enjoy my career with the Imperial Stormtroopers and as an Officer, and assessing everything and everyone I come across is just how I was raised in the Academies I attended." Elena looked over at him as they entered the lounge, and pointed to a set of seats a little out of the way. When Elena sat down, she let out a small sigh of relief, and nodded at Sergeant Stark to sit down opposite of her. "I honestly can't see myself working anywhere else." She smiled, eyes bright. "But were not here to talk about me, tell me about yourself."

Tag: @Bravo @TheAdmiral

 

IC: Chief of Security Gotz Richter
Unit Conference Room---Chief of Security---located to the left of the Security Office & Armory, Darkest Night
(High orbit over planet of Javin)


Richter could tell the captain was becoming nervous. While blocked from view by the table, the chief of security had become a master of body language and muscle movements. By watching the muscle movements of her forearm---just visible, at least in part---he knew she was tapping her fingers on her leg. A subtle hint that---in terms of a criminal investigation---would be invaluable. Here, in terms of putting a crime together and the subject only being a factual witness with no assumed or otherwise known criminal involvement, the information was telling for other reasons.

He made a note of it on the back side of his paper notes, flipping the paper over and causally watching her as he wrote some more. Ah, there it was again.

She spoke.

"Can you tell me how Master Sergeant Dax died, and who was responsible?"

"If I knew, I couldn't tell you captain. At least not until a formal trial is held. But alas, I do not know. Local authorities are following up on the matter. But, I do recognize the blaster entry and exit points. Its a very specific blaster. If I'm right, then..." the chief of security trailed off, a somber smile coming across his face, "Let's just hope I'm not."

"Navigational Officer Markova to the bridge. Navigational Officer Markova to the bridge."

He looked down at his watch as the overhead announcement from a faceless & nameless announcer flooded the speakers, "Couldn't be better timing," Gotz said, adding with a smile, "We were just finishing up," the security officer stood up, "I believe you're needed on the bridge, Captain Markova. You are free to go from this meeting; thank you for the information you gave me today."


TAG @galactic-vagabond422

 

OOG:

@greyjedi125 , I hope I did Winterkill right here. I wanted to give him some talking points, but try to keep it as direct to answer and minimized as possible in depth, as I don't see Winterkill doing a college lecture anytime soon.

The following quote under *** is a reference to @Sith-I-5 's original use of the comical caption regarding our wordless ninja in the original Intervention game.



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



IC: Jim Palso & Winterkill (Part 3)
Hunk of Junk, Somewhere


Jim flipped the main power switch and the low & powerful hum of the Gray Tiger Model light freighter came to life.

"If they're true to their word," Palso said, looking over the controls of the console, "They repaired everything," the Merc surveyed the readouts, gauges, and screens and then finished, "Everything looks green to go."

"Doesn't it make you wonder how long we were out, now?" Winterkill said from the co-pilot seat.

"I try not to think about it," Palso said, looking out the port-side viewport of the cockpit and down at Rick Taller and the three others they were leaving behind; 9 of the Naval Guard as they called themselves were guarding them as they stood there, along with Lord Alic Tarfa off to the side. The Infantrymen, as they called themselves, were marching off in a well done parade formation.

"Then you have not been in a Tof Concentration Camp," Winterkill said with a distant tone, "The pain was all I ever thought of. The things they did to us. I became one with the pain and learned to embrace it. Then I turned it against my captors, using what they had forged me into against my will to bring about their doom."

"Ya know," Palso said with a bit of a bite, "Some joyful news would be nice right about now! Not all the gloom and doom and death!"

Winterkill snapped his head around from looking out the opposite viewport the last several minutes. He stared Palso down, "You are leaving our comrades."

"No, no," Palso said, waving a finger between Winterkill and himself, "We are leaving our comrades behind. You and I! Don't you go blaming me for all this. Its not like we had much of a choice in the matter!"

"You mistake my willingness to come along for weakness," Winterkill stated flatly.

"Really?" Palso said with a frustrated smirk spreading across his face at the challenge to throw some punches with the Nagai, "So, you have some masterful plan to kill our security detachment in the back hold there, fly back here with or without what they ordered us to go find, and free everyone?"

"Perhaps," Winterkill said, "Although I haven't finalized the timing yet. Or the plan of attack. I have memorized the guards' movements and other personnel's routines in the hanger. But I wish they would have taken us to the brig. It would have given me a better chance of planning an escape and rescue plan, as I could see more of their starship."

Palso rolled his eyes and looked to the console controls, "Keep dreaming," Jim said with a disgruntled tone, "By us taking---or more correctly---them ordering us to take this slice of the deal, at least we have a chance to get to use this Fragments of the Lost Kingdom in the Unknown Regions and, perhaps, find what they want before the Empire does and then come back and get our captain and others, not to mention the Johnny Boy---wherever its at---and no one gets hurt. Plus, even you said we had no chance in the hanger."

"In the hanger, yes," Winterkill, "But if we tactically separated them, our chances would increase in confined spaces where we could create chaos and meet the enemy on our own terms. Havah and I alone could deal a significant blow to their response, while you and Taller and the others looped back around to the hanger to secure transportation. Judging by the hanger bay, this ship is huge. We could create traps, ambushes, and generally keep one step ahead, funneling them into our battles of choice. By diverting their attention and resources to false attacks or redirection ploys, we could double-back to the hanger or find another suitable way off this starship."

Palso shook his head as Walking Library came into the cockpit and stopped at the blast door entrance, the droid leaning in with a step over the bulkhead, "Everything is secured in the rear, captain" the droid said, adding, "As are our two guests."

"Yep," Palso said, ignoring the droid.

"Captain, is there something wrong?" the droid asked.

"Yeah," Jim said, turning around in his seat, "You."

"Captain, I reassure you, I have no recollection of my previous owners. The information they relayed to you is as troubling as it is to me. My memory must have been damaged beyond repair."

"Yeah," Palso said, turning back around in the seat as he started lifting the light freighter off the deck with the controls, "Either you're a double agent and you'll kill us all. Or, well, we'll see."



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


Crew Lounge, Hunk of Junk


Havah sat at the computer access station, the seat turned around to face their two "guests".

Billy smiled as he finished dealing the deck for 3: him, Havah, and Tora Senshi at the holographic game board (table). Billy & Tora were at the table. "Well Havah," Billy said as he finished dealing and took off his hat, laying it on the bench seat next to him, "There's two of us and three hands dealt. So that means you can come and join us."

Bugger issued a hopeful question from the holonet access/communications panel.

Billy shook his head, "No droids."

Bugger's response was pitiful, as his dome rotated and turned away.

"Droids," Billy said with disgust, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to Havah, "Look pal, you can stare at us all day long. But I won't be drawing any pistols unless you three fools try something first. So, as long as you're being gentlemen, I'll be a gentleman," he made emphasis of himself with a hand across his chest and a bow of his head, "Now, look, whether you believe in the Kingdom of Jod or not is a mute point," he gestured between himself and Tora, "We're real. And that ship you---" Billy felt the tug of hyperspace engines jolting them into hyperspace, then his stomach and body in general stabilized a moment later, "Were on, well that was pretty real too. Whether you accept what the good Lord Tarfa said or not about the Kingdom," Billy shrugged, "That's up to you. But I'll be honest with you partner," he pointed a thumb at Tora, "This guy doesn't speak. Its kind of hard to play a card game when the person you're playing against doesn't talk. So," the ninja looked at Billy and the gunslinger shrugged, "What? You gonna hold up a cardboard sign with words on it or something?***" Billy dismissed the quiet man and turned back to Havah, "I'll make you a deal, partner. You come play and, lets say winner's pot is information. You win, I tell you what you want to know about the Jod. One win, three questions. I win, you tell me something about your galaxy. One win, three questions. Win-win, how I see it. What say you?"



TAG @Mitth_Fisto , @greyjedi125 (myself for Winterkill), myself