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

IC: Coveway COMPNOR Base
Planet of Coveway, Coveway System


"Lieutenant," spoke a gray-suited technician from the crew pits, turning his head to the Lieutenant who stood watch over the three stations and technicians assigned to his crew pit, "We have a record transfer request from a Senior Lieutenant Levric, Military Intelligence, attached to the Star Destroyer Darkest Night. She's requesting all records regarding the criminal, Knowledge. Should I follow-through with the request?"

"Didn't she just send a communicate, minutes ago?" The Lieutenant responded in an annoyed huff.

"Yes, sir. But she's requesting all files pertaining----"

The Lieutenant waived him off, "Yes, yes. Go ahead. Not like we have larger concerns in this galaxy, then pity criminals. She'll find no use to the files, no more then we have."

"Yes, Lieutenant."


TBC
OOG: My fever has returned. Shaking with the chills, so its really hard to write. I'll finish up this post and others hopefully tomorrow.

 

OOG:

Laine, please assume the post from Tuesday (yesterday) with the COMPNOR Base is part of this post.

---

IC: Lester Knocks
Knocks Tower, Lepsawn 1-9


The turbolift came to its next to final stop (other then the roof) and the turbolift beeped for attention with a female voice.

[Please voice identify.]

Even though he was alone in the turbolift, Knocks looked around the turbolift and then cleared his throat.

"Fluffy." responded Lester.

[Thank you, Mr. Knocks. Welcome.]

Stepping off the turbolift, Knocks saw the two LKC Security Company guards flanking the double door into his office's personal waiting room; like everything else on this level, the doors and walls were armored thick enough to resist laser blasters and windows were military grade laser resistance as well (Knocks' personal office was sound proof as well). The guards didn't as much move or flinch. Not even a nod.

Perfect.

Knocks walked up to the secured eye pad and put his eye on the scanner. A moment later, the scanner went from red to green and the doors automatically opened.

Walking through, Knocks noticed another guard on the interior side of the door, standing sentry to one side, while another one was opposite his side on the side of the room by the entrance to his own personal office. As the door closed, Knocks glanced towards the reception desk where his personal secretary sat behind a desk, on the opposite side of the room where several chairs and couches with coffee tables were set up in a pleasing manner with two holovid screens in either far corner playing local news and the other galactic news on silent with words scrolling across. Reading material were also on the coffee tables. Two windows, looking out upon the capital city, were opposite each other and each behind either the secretary's desk or the waiting room area on the other side.

This was it! He sprinted across and then his personal secretary's voice rang out like a unholy streak, as she chased him down with a data-pad.

"Mr. Knocks! M. Knocks!" the lady streaked like a mouse being squeezed through a tube.

Lester gave up just inches away from his private office's hand identification security pad. He put his head up in defeat and turned to the woman with overly brown curled hair, way too much pink & purple clothing (pink shoes, pink & purple mixed make-up, and purple rimmed eyeglasses that made her face look like it was about to lift off with bat wings!), and she definitely had to do something about the gum chewing! She even had purple gum!

Every. Single. Day. Of. The. Week.

Did she own any other clothes? He paid her a great salary and all she ever talked about over lunch was her grandchildren at home.

"Yes, Patty?" Lester asked with a forced smile.

"Mr. Knocks," she said with a tone only a grandmother could use, as she grabbed his wrist and marched him to the waiting room chairs and sat him down like a child in time-out (both security guards tried to resist smirking, but it failed), "This!" she proclaimed, shoving the data-pad in his hands, "Are the appointments you've missed over the last two days! I have people thinking you're dead! Oh my!" Patty put her hands over her heart, "I thought you were dead!" Then she started hitting him on the arm, "You never, EVER, do that to me again! I'm a grandmother! And I worry about you!" She stopped hitting him and collected herself, "I'm sorry, Mr. Knocks. Its just, well, you know. That's all."

Yes, Lester did know. She was the closet thing he had to real family left in this rotting, Force-forsaken galaxy, and she had helped him get back up on his feet after his family died, giving him shelter and food, not knowing that she was helping a harden criminal. She had done no wrong in her life, not even a speeding ticket or walking across a street without using a crosswalk. She had raised a beautiful family and had cared for them, even after her husband had passed away many years prior. When her family reached some tough times after her oldest son was killed in a car accident and left her raising his two little children, supporting his windowed wife, and taking care of her own youngest rebellious daughter, Lester gave Patty a job, moved her family away from Coveway and to the capital city of Lepsawn Central, gave her and her family jobs, bought them a new house large enough for all of them (paid off), and paid all her bills monthly (but not the children's bills).

She was, truly, his only family he really had. Money bought loyalty, not love like Patty gave him as a mother figure when he had none. And if anyone even looked at her the wrong way, he'd kill them with no questions asked (just not in front of her eyes, somewhere where she would never find out).

"I do Patty and I'm sorry," Lester replied, the only person he would ever said sorry to; standing up and walking towards the door with the data-pad, Lester's arm reached out to the hand-pad, but Patty's voice rang out. This time, he didn't show frustration, and turned to Patty.

"Mr. Knocks!"

"Yes, Patty?"

"You wanted me to notify you of any names of Knowledge being transfered around the HoloNet or news channels?"

"Yes....?" Knocks replied with caution.

"Well, Mr. Knocks, there was a file transfer with that name, from the Imperial COMPNOR Base on Coveway to a Star Destroyer above our planet, called the Darkest Night."

"I see. Keep me informed of anything else," he turned and the door opened when the hand scanner went green and Mr. Knocks walked into his private office, the double doors closing behind him.

"A course, Mr. Knocks!" she replied, waiving in joy.


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

Sitting behind his desk, Lester keyed his personal communication system with a secret code on his desk.

"Yes, sir?" came an immediately reply from a rather unsavory character on the other end. One such character, definitely not suited for legal business.

"There was a communicate sent from the Coveway COMPNOR Base to the Star Destroyer, Darkest Night, in orbit above our planet. It is regarding the word Knowledge. I want to know what was sent and who it was sent to."

"Mr. Knowledge, slicing into a secured military Holonet channel is one thing. Slicing into a Star Destroyer is quite the other! Its impossible!"

"Do I pay you to tell me things are impossible? Or do I pay you for results?"

"Results, Mr. Knowledge."

"Good. I would hate to have to replace you. It would be a very unpleasant experience for you. You have three hours."

"Three hours! That's----"

Knocks cut the comlink and finished the man's sentence to himself quietly, "Possible. Or you'll die trying."


TBC
OOG: Laine, I'm not done yet with this post, but you can at least reply to receiving the previous information from the COMPNOR Base. My shakes are coming back, so I need to go rest.

 

IC: Security Chief Cain Shinzon
Sentry Moon, Battle of Lespawn 1-9

As Cain and his relief force moved forward to create a perimeter around the survivors, Cain himself sought out the senior ranking survivor. "Sergeant Oak, sir." Cain looked past the NCO (non-commissioned officer) out towards the treeline, thankful that he knew well enough to not salute him in a combat environment. "Fifteen survivors, including myself. Seven wounded, two severely requiring immediate medical care." Cain looked to the commo trooper with the heavy communications gear on his back. "Call back to the lander and have them put down for CASEVAC (CASulaty EVACuaction)" he ordered as Oak continued on with his report.

"Eight able bodied troopers at your disposal, sir." Cain swore to himself behind his faceplate, that wouldn't be enough, whatever had rolled through here had done shabla near overrun a lot more than his relief party and eight additional troopers. The dustoff he was calling for may end up being used to evacuate the entire team. shab. "Command Officer and senior NCOs are all dead or missing in action, with eight troopers and six scout troopers MIA. Seven troopers KIA, including the Lieutenant," Oak glanced over the officer's body, and Cain took note of the primitive nature of the enemy dead surrounding the LT's body. "He fought bravely, Chief," Oak turned to Shinzon, "He distracted the enemy, while we got to cover in the battle, as our perimeter defenses failed and the enemy got through. Somehow, these natives knew what to look for in a commanding officer, almost as if they were picking off the command staff. I would request a review of his battlefield actions, Chief, and nominate him for the Distinguished Medal of Imperial Honor. If it wasn't for the Lieutenant, I don't know if we would all be here," Oak nodded towards the ring of enemy dead around the cover, numbering well over thirty, "As you can see, Chief."

Cain scowled and shook his head. "There will be time for medals for the dead after the living have been taken care of Sergeant." He said admonishing the trooper. Oak blinked but seemed to take it in stride. There were more pressing matters to attend to. He aside, allowing the Shinzon to see the prisoners, "We captured two natives, sir. Strangely, they had blaster rifles. Modern stock. Odd, correct, sir?" That was odd, it meant these natives had overrun other landing parties before this one and taken their weapons or had been given weapons by someone else. The howling roar of the landing craft's return drowned out all noise for a moment as it settled down to pick up the casualties, but Cain's attention was on the prisoners at the moment. They too should be taken away for interrogation aboard the Darkest Night. Really the entire post should be abandoned for the time being and all the troopers evacuated along with the wounded, but he wasn't ready to make that call just yet. Not with some troopers still missing out there. Instead Cain asked the Sergeant simply, shouting above the noise of the lander. "What kind of blaster rifles were they using Sergeant?" The type could very well tell Cain whether they had been purposefully armed, perhaps even by who, or simply combat pickups, and that was something he wanted to know before ordering the OP abandoned or a search for his missing men.

TAG: Bravo

 

IC: Commodore Peter Englewood
Presidential Convoy, Lepsawn Central (planet of Lepsawn 1-9)


"Sir, we're being funneled." She pulled the datapad away to show the commander that map she'd just pulled up. "I feel…" her eyes glance over to the Queen bringing the datapad back up.

Englewood nodded. He share a glance with the Queen, who suddenly looked more determined then he had ever seen her before. As if, by the Force, she enjoyed the prospect of a challenge.


"I feel someone in the Empire might be planning an attack on the city…"

It took all of Peter's officer & diplomatic training from the Empire to not cringe outwardly. Rule number one about discovering a traitor within your mist was to never, ever, disclose that it was your government doing the traditous actions in front of an ally. That was just bad, really, really bad for foreign relations! Englewood shared a uncomfortable glance with the Queen, whose's two personal guards were already putting their hands on their weapons and ready for a fight. The Queen's face was stern, unwelcoming, and Englewood could already see the Empire's alliance with Lepsawn 1-9 crumbling before his very eyes.

"Mad'am President," the shotgun UNMF soldier said from up front (next to the driver), "Our communications are being jammed. We've lost contact with 15-Mary-3 and other assets in the convoy."


"What, Commodore, is the meaning of this?" the Queen spoke, her words that of a snake about to strike.

Englewood shook his head, "Mad'am President, I do not know. You must believe me. If you would only allow us to communicate with my Star Destroyer---"

"I think not! Not after these reports!"

"I picked up a communication that was using our codes. I think they might be trying to eliminate the Queen before the attack, to sow confusion and dismay before the attack." Her hand began to shake, she swallowed hard looking back out the windscreen, fearing what was coming. "What should we do?"

"Let them come." Reen felt her pride swell, "Let them make the first move."

"Mad'am President," Englewood begun, "With all do respect, if I or the Empire were trying to kill you, then why would we be broadcasting it to you right now? What would that gain us by discovering our own plans against you? It would serve us and the Empire nothing! There's something more behind all this, Mad'am President. Something neither of us are seeing! If the Empire wanted you dead, they wouldn't be so public about it and, pardon my self-righteous opinion of my crew and I, they wouldn't waste one of their best Star Destroyer crews for a game of smoke and mirrors."

Feeling the eyes of the Commodore upon her, she continued, gazing at the queen. "Once the traitors reveal themselves, we will put them down like the rabid dogs they are.."

"Guards," the Queen said quietly, "At ease," the guards relaxed, taking their hands off their guns, "Driver, report?"

"This traffic will slow us down, ma'dam. This construction is horr----who in the Emperor's Black Bones is that!" The driver looked out the window in stunned shock at the crazy driver, with equally crazy passengers waiving out the windows and firing blasters, as a construction vehicle chased after them doing equally the same the thing in return! The chase plowed through one of the further barriers, but the pair was definitely coming this way! "Is that blaster fire coming from that passenger vehicle?"

"That," Englewood said, "Is our missing Captain Vicks. And I believe he's trying to warn us," Englewood locked eyes with one of the construction workers, as the man's tattooed face suddenly made a hasty retreat, "SITH! Everyone, OUT OF THE VEHICLE NO----"

It was too late. A loud BANG, following by a ROAR, gave way to a unearthly rumble and Peter felt the vehicle be lifted off the ground! The Star Destroyer Commodore felt his stomach go to his throat as the vehicle was flipped front over end and landed on the vehicle in front of them, the crushing of medal and glass the last things Peter remembered before his head hit the side of the vehicle post and everything went black!


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


Shouting. Blaster fire. Screaming.

First, his smell came back. He could smell something burning, then he could smell blood. Feeling, next. Something warm was running down the side of his face. That something ran into his mouth and it tasted like blood.

Snap-hiss.

A scream.

Smash.

Struggle of fear, then the gurgle of blood being let out and a body being dropped to the ground.

His vision started coming back, at first a blare, then it started to clarify itself. He looked around the cabin of the vehicle. Bodies lay everywhere, but he couldn't identify who was who. He tried to find the front of the vehicle---he did---and saw that both the driver and shotgun passenger were dead, clearly from blaster shots to the head, as blood dripped downwards to the roof of the upside down vehicle!

A firm hand gripped his shoulder!

"Let go of me!" Englewood demanded as he was dragged out like a rag doll! The glaring sun silhouetted the figure, but Englewood could see the green blades of a double-hilt lightsaber! Then the figure suddenly spun around and crouched, impaling a construction work who charged at him with a pick-ax! Peter could see the man's heavily tattooed and metal pieced face. These were no construction workers! The construction worked dropped to the ground after the lightsaber was withdrawn.

Peter took this moment to look around. It looked like what UNMF soldiers he could see were behind what coverage they could find, firing into the construction workers who found like-wise cover. Other construction workers were on near-by roof-tops, making this a deadly kill zone! All around, smoking vehicles---both from the convoy and from nearby civilian vehicles---filled the sky. Screams from civilians fleeing the area and painful barks from the wounded filled the air, as well as did orders being barked from various people!

The double-bladed lightsaber person turned back around, he reached back into the vehicle and pulled out someone else out, he then grabbed Englewood under the armpit and got him up against the vehicle. The man's blue eyes behind that ninja mask were intense, more intense then he had ever seen before in any being, alien or human!

"Freeze, creep!" Said one of the UNMF soldiers from behind; he must of been one of the survivors from the speeder bike escort up front, as he came running from that side. He held a blaster pistol to the back of the ninja's head, "Don't move or I'll----" the soldier suddenly dropped to the ground after a loud crack & bang filled the air, his helmet and face half gone. Someone, off in the distance, yelled, sniper!

Peter looked back to the lightsaber-holding man and started to utter words, "Who are---" but he was cut off as the ninja-like man grabbed Peter's own blaster pistol from his holster and forced it into the Commodore's hands.

"Fight!" the ninja said, then he reached back down and started to drag out the Queen.

Peter did what he was ordered, as turned around and flopped himself up against the turned-over vehicle. The vehicle's underside armor is what prevented the vehicle from being ripped apart by that explosion! Englewood took a quick glance around! Getting a full view and the scene was worse then he had imagined! It was a war zone out here! He grabbed his comlink as he ducked his head back down under the coverage of the vehicle, but not before quickly popping off two quick blaster shots at two construction workers with blaster rifles that tried to slip around unnoticed. Peter watched both men drop, head-shots to seal their fate.

Englewood was known for his good shot with any weapon in the Imperial Navy. he activated his Imperial comlink, which chouldn't be being jammed by whoever these enemy were, "This is Commodore Englewood. Away Team, report in! Away Team, report in!"

He didn't know who was alive and who wasn't. But he needed to find out!

The ninja emerged with the Queen (his lightsaber deactivated), who was still breathing, but her face was bruised and bloodied. He put her up against the upside down vehicle in a sitting manner, while he took the blaster rifle from one of the dead guards with the Queen and, crouching, came up from behind the vehicle and started to unleash patient & accurate blaster bolts in a precision manner that Peter had never seen before. Enemy tangos started falling one by one, as if it was some festival game to win a stuffed animal!

"Who is this guy?" Englewood asked himself as he popped up from the vehicle's cover and joined the ninja in returning blaster fire. Englewood still waited for everyone to get back to him over the comlink!


TAG CONVOY

 

Bravo - Do you already have a building description for the tallest one holding snipers?

Cos' my three are going after them.

 

IC: Natalia Markova
Convoy

Natalia's cheeks turned bright red, hearing the queen speak, responding to her conversation with the Commodore. Was she speaking too loudly, had the situation made her lose her sense? She was smarter than to loudly declare that there was a traitor and a brewing assassination attempt with the target right in front of her, wasn't she? Admittedly, this was not her arena, subterfuge, secrets, and betrayal, this was far from where she should be, guiding a behemoth, charting the course of the symbol Emperor's power and unbreakable will to tame the galaxy.

She hid her face behind the datapad trying to shut out the world the sounds of the viol, quick and sharp ring in her mind. She just wanted to forget, just wanted to not be there anymore. Her eyes squeezed tight blocking out all sight. Her breathing quickened as the conversation heated between the Commodore and the Queen.

How could she be so stupid...no she wasn't stupid...she wasn't.

"Is that blaster fire coming from that passenger vehicle?" one of the guards asked ,causing the navigator to snap her head up to look out the window…she saw someone, she thought she recognized them but, the world was muffled around her, drowned out by phantom strings taking over her mind.

"SITH!" the Commodore called out, breaking the spell at least for a little bit.

She doesn't remember what she saw, only what she heard. A bang, then roar, and the world went silent, and dark...finally, peace.

That peace was ripped away as the staccato discordant beat of blaster fire surrounded her, she could hear it over the ringing in her ears. The next thing was pain, pain like she'd never felt before. Her back, her side, everything it felt like hurt, she tried to scream but, pain forced her throat to close up, only a strangled whimper escaped her open mouth. With a halting breath she took in the air of the alien world she'd woken up in, ozone, and burnt flesh, blood and smoke. A nauseous feeling started in her stomach and began to work its way up her throat. She felt someone pulling at her shoulder dragging her limp body from the wreckage.

"Papa." the word fell from her bloodied lips like a prayer, she prayed she wasn't here, wasn't in the middle of a warzone, praying that it was all just a dream and that she'd wake up in her bed, her father next to her shaking her shoulder, waking her from this nightmare.

The copper taste of fresh blood on her tongue told her otherwise. Her eyes finally open, able to finally see the horrific majesty of everything she was always so far from. Bodies littered the streets, fires roared in the distance, mangled pieces of metal that were once vehicles lay strew about the field.

Her body convulsed, sending more pain coursing through her as she retched, nothing came up, not yet. Without even thinking about it she rolled, painfully onto her stomach using her left arm to brace herself, holding her head above the pavement. Bitter bile, and what remained of her breakfast spilled from her mouth and splashed upon the ground. It's vile stench wafted up to her nose causing her to retch again, this time only succeeding in nearly turning her stomach inside out.

"Sniper." someone cried, Natalia quickly scrambled backwards until her back pressed against something firm behind her, what remained of the vehicle she was once inside. Her knees came up to chest her left arm wrapping around them. Her right arm still had a death grip on the datapad, which seemed to have made it through the crash just fine, or at least wasn't inoperable.

Short quick breaths slipped between her teeth, her wide eyes snapped to each and every noise around her.

She couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do anything.

She was just frozen.

TAG: Bravo Sith-I-5 The Vanguard Mitth_Fisto

 

OOG:

Bardan_Jusik

I'm hoping you'll allow them past security (please Mr. Evil Paranoid Always Prepared Security Chief )

Laine_Snowtrekker

This is a information post for you (as were the other two previous posts that were TBC). I have another post coming to you for a TAG, after I can get the bad guys situated in the pilot's lounge.

---

IC: Pawn
Control Room, Golan II in high orbit above Lepsawn 1-9


Pawn, as he was known upon the criminal underground, listened as the communication line with Knowledge went to static. He let out a frustrated sigh as he tore the headset from his head and slammed it down on the console. Other gang members & even Rebels were in the overly crowded control room and all stopped and looked at him, a moment of silence, before the chatter of the room resumed.

Uttering a Hutt curse under his breath, the heavily tattooed & pierced near-human male with a mixture of ocean blue, desert tan, and chocolate dark skin laid out like patch-work along his body; yellow eyes with dark centers, as well as sharpened teeth like that of an animal, added a fear-like look to the naturally skin bald man who stood 6'0 (average for his species' height). Razor thick nails at the end of five fingers on each hand gave Pawn a natural defense, along with his naturally gifted great agility and speed. But none of these "natural ability" aided him as much as most others in his species. Instead, Pawn relied on his smarts to fill his toxic spice addiction, an addiction that only the best credits could pay for. Credits that Knowledge had. Knowledge had use for a brain like Pawn's and Pawn had use for a man who could get him his spice and pay for his exceptional computer talents.

And guts. Yes, guts.

A Star Destroyer was littered with communication equipment. One could not simply attack or disable the primary communications dish and hope to survive. While, yes, that crippled the overall communications system on a SD, there were other avenues, accesses, and hatchways so to speak into a Star Destroyer's communication's network. Yes, everything was filtered through the primary communications array for security purposes, but once past that, the road to choose was nearly endless. Army had their own communications, as did Stormtroopers, Navy, Starfighter Corps, Medical, and Intelligence. Not to mention the hundred or so of private channels assigned to officers high enough in rank aboard a Star Destroyer. Then add in the general communications system, emergency back-up communications system, the Holonet system, the---the list went on. There were hundreds of ways a hacker could go once inside the Star Destroyer. The question, a course, was finding where to get inserted and have the credentials to bypass the primary communications array's security system.

Pawn had been the one who had given Patty the information about Knowledge bouncing around on the HoloNet. He had the codes, the access, and the all-too-important skills to slice his way to the information he wanted.

He was Pawn.

Taking the egotistical boost for what it was. Pawn put his headset back on. He started with using his own groundwork with tracing the original message from the COMPNOR Base on Coveway. While no two messages were the same when sent via encryption, especially military encryption, some basic bare bones details were always the same unless it was marked Sensitive, Classified, Secret, Your Eyes Only, or Top Secret. In this case, none of those preexisting markers were in place, which meant while it was on a secured & monitored military channel, details such as sender, receiver, date, time, message route, location start, location end, and other minor details would be the same. It wasn't like this message's contents were going to collapse the Empire if the contents got out to the public. But, what it did do, was give a skilled, veteran, and willing-to-take-a-risk slicer a vehicle in which to get into a Star Destroyer.

No easy feat, even for a slicer with his own street cred like Pawn. Land-based structures were easier to hack into then Star Destroyers. The Empire spent millions and billions of credits every year protecting its mighty Star Destroyers and other important warships in the Imperial Fleet from cyber warfare. A Corvette or even a Frigate was a minor loss, if taken over with a virus. But a Star Destroyer? That could be a public-relation nightmare if one of those mighty ImpStars got into the wrong hands. While Pawn was confident he could get into the communications system, he knew that slicing into navigation, engineering, or weaponry would be a near-impossible feat, at least remotely. If he was hard-wired into the system, well that was a different----

Pawn smiled. All he had to do was find a suitable---there, he found it. A recent order delaying an unmarked (recently captured) civilian light freighter----ordered by Commodore Englewood himself for a undercover operation---by Captain Vicks. It would seem to appear that Vicks had a sudden change of heart, with the political climate involving Lepsawn 1-9. Maybe a understanding between the two officers. Either way, it was all crafted perfectly, not a mistake in sight. Pawn even borrowed the earlier authorization codes for the original request by Englewood and original approval by the COMPNOR Base (not an uncommon practice to push through low-level paperwork). It was a simple copy of three messages----the request by Englewood, the approval by COMPNOR, the delay by Vicks---with a auto generated approval through proper channels message (basically, Vicks was too busy to offer an official withdraw of his delay order and instead sent a quick message communication via his datapad with the properly loaded authorizations). Luckily, this Captain Vicks thought he was as busy as the Emperor himself and used this method quite often for low-level paperwork which Pawn was quickly able to backtrack back to several minor diplomatic orders he found searching the Captain's good name and operating number.

There, everything was in place. All he had to do was add in the freighter type---which he already knew---and he had to grab a few humans and some captured Imperial uniforms.

He sent the message. It would be standard operating procedure for a bunch of low-level officer idiots to take it directly to the Star Destroyer, instead of the logical place: the planet.

---

IC: Pawn
Cockpit, Sun Dancer (YT-1760), approaching Darkest Night


It had all been an elaborate plan, but really quite simple in its undertaking. Taking the Sun Dancer from the Golan II's hanger and around the far side of Lepsawn 1-9 (under the cover of one of the CR90 Corellian Corvettes that was running in front of it to block it from view & sensors); once between the planet and the Imperial fleet, the freighter did a small hyperspace jump out of system, then a few others here-and-there (to make it look like the freighter had come from elsewhere), then finally back into system from the direction of the COMPNOR Base on Coveway. About an hour all together. Now, the Star Destroyer loomed ahead.

Pawn was one of two humanoids (that didn't fit the profile close enough to be a human in Imperial terms) to be wearing Stormtrooper armor. The armor would check-out; Imperial stormtrooper armor had internal identification markers to allow access to Imperial starships and bases, these suits' markers would come standard and, if checked on, would actually be coming from the armory on the COMPNOR Base. That was a nice little in-and-out operation that Pawn had conducted weeks ago and call it either the back flow of Imperial paperwork or the fact that they simply hadn't been spotted missing yet (considering Pawn grabbed them from the furthermost darkest reaches of that storage room, leaving plenty of suits of armor in front of the missing ones), the suits hadn't been reported missing for weeks now.

Identification paperwork would be even simpler; Pawn had forged orders and identification to put these two Stormtrooper suits as ISB Stormtroopers, essentially meaning their identities were classified and non-questionable (one would need to go up the chain to ISB for that info that, for something as simple as a freighter transport, most wouldn't do it). It wasn't unheard of to have ISB Stormtroopers working with COMPNOR field units and vise versa; it was a way for both branches (being the same organization overall) to help each other keep an eye on the never trusted Military Intelligence, considering they lacked the theological loyalty that ISB and COMPNOR had for the Empire. The other forged paperwork for the pilot and technician was even easier and child's play for Pawn. They could run it through every Imperial database and the shuttle pilot and technician would show up as being assigned to that COMPNOR Base for the last three years. Now, whether others working at the base actually physically saw them, is another story. But with base transfers, tours starting and ending for personnel, and resignations & retirements every year from any given Imperial base or starship across the galaxy, it was very common for lower ranking NCOs and staff to work years at a base or starship and be the steady crew, while others around them constantly rotated, and no one ever really knew they had been there for that many years (just a new face to the new people).

Coming from a COMPNOR Base, it would be standard operating produce to send at least two Stormtroopers along for security, while a bare bones flight crew piloted the ship in, typically at least a pilot and a technician for support for smaller craft like a freighter. Naturally, they would have to make contact with hanger control and schedule a pick-up or a ride back to the COMPNOR Base or just wait it out (which was normal, unless it was a prolonged operation of several days or weeks).

"Okay," Pawn said, nodding to his fellow counter fit Stormtrooper (a Mirialan male) and then the two other human males with him (one wearing a Imperial shuttle pilot uniform, the other a technician uniform) as the pilot had just finished talking it up with the Imperial communication officer---some second team player from the sounds of it, filling in for the main person---of the Darkest Night. Two TIE Fighters came screaming out, intent on escorting them in further. So far, so good. Considering the Star Destroyer was on Yellow Alert, they would have to go through some standard inspection upon landing, vetting of their orders & manifest, and some other minor details. All would be covered, "We know the job. We're in, we find where the communication was sent to---all I have is the Military Intelligence Squad Room---and then we download files, upload files, then we're out. Hour tops. We'll have a man on the outside who will comm in to the Star Destroyer to release us to the planet's surface for pick-up, then we're clear. Any questions?"

Everyone shook their heads. Pawn had gone through the added measure to make sure his pilot and technician both had their tattoos covered over and had any pieces removed. They had to look the part.

"Good. Lets get paid, people!" Pawn grinned as he put on the Stormtrooper helmet. Ahead, the Star Destroyer's hanger bay loomed big as the freighter angled in for the proper approach.

Dawn picked people he had always worked with. People he could trust. This was like some damn-fool crazy mission a odd group of a wizard, a farm boy, and a smuggler and his copilot would think of. That gave Dawn a thought. Maybe he should write a book about it. Not like anyone would believe this story, much less a story with some farm kid in it with a wizard!



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


Primary Hanger Bay, Darkest Night


No wonder Stormtroopers couldn't see, Pawn thought. He and his fellow Stormtrooper lead the way down the ramp side-by-side. This wasn't their first rodo as counter-fit stormtroopers and Pawn would like to think he and his partner had ran around in this armor long enough among real Stormtroopers to know what real Stormtroopers would act like. So, Pawn walked with a certain air of confidence that his partner effortlessly copied like seasoned Stormtroopers would among each other. Stopping at the bottom of the ramp, each of the troopers took a step to either side of the ramp, flanking it with E-11 blasters held down around their waists in a fashion that showed the seasoned veteran who thought they were baby sitting.

Next strolled down the technician, followed by the pilot. The technician held the orders in hand, while the pilot rightfully-so looked around like he was already bored with nothing to do now (with his piloting job over). They stopped at the bottom of the ramp.

Good. They all worked the part, as they had a half dozen times before. Knowledge demanded results and Pawn and his chosen team had become accustomed to sneaking on and off Imperial & Rebel bases and starships alike in various attire to match the mission.

Pawn darted his eyes around (without moving his head) behind the safety & security of the stormtrooper helmet. Eight Imperial Navy Troopers and an Imperial Navy Ensign naval officer to receive the orders.

Typical. No one looked alarmed, although maybe that NCO within the Troopers' squad was a bit tense; he was probably hoping to the Force he didn't screw this up, considering it was COMPNOR and not some actual military branch. Or maybe he just had an arse of a commanding officer as a security chief and he was trying to remember every little detail of the field manual, so he didn't get an arse chewing for missing some detail about where to put your feet on the dotted yellow safety line around a landing spot.

Pawn smiled inwardly. He had to give it to ******** commanding officers, especially the A Type Personality security chiefs. They always had a way to bring out the best in your morning diarrhea if you missed up the night prior and had a debriefing about it the next morning.

The technician shared a salute with the Ensign and handed over the orders. Everything was paid to be like the real thing. Every T and every i was crossed and dotted in those documents.

"Orders, sir," the technician said, adding, "Just a reminder of orders: COMPNOR Base, Coveway System. Freighter for a Commodore Englewood. Delay orders from a Captain Vicks planet-side were recently canceled and the original approved order from COMPNOR pushed through last minute. Authorization codes all right there. We're just the delivery men. But once this whole thing is over, I really gotta use your refresher," the young Ensign shared a look with the technician, "Sir. Been a long trip with two Stormtroopers. They come standard from a COMPNOR base transfer of equipment for security. They said I couldn't leave the cockpit. I should have never had that liter of water before lift-off! My bladder is paying for it, you see. Ensign, sir."

Pawn smiled inwardly behind the helmet. Play the part and doing it well. Drag out the conversation, bore the naval ensign to death, make him drop his security as some back-water world technician is rambling about non-essential information. Overload the senses, force the naval officer to only remember the most important information or the least important information. Either way, he can only remember so much. Make him focus on other things, then his job.

The Ensign was was reviewing the orders through his datapad as the technician went on rambling, now tapping his foot, "Oh my sweet mother Mary! Do I need to find a refresher! Say, Ensign----"

"You're clear, you're clear!" the Ensign finally replied, shoving the orders back to the technician, "Now, what's up with these two Stormtroopers."

"Security," Pawn said with dramatic disgust, his voice filtered through the helmet's communication's system, as he turned his head to the Ensign, "For this baby-sitting mission. It should all be in the orders."

"It is," the Ensign replied dryly.

"Excuse me, sir," raised a hand of the pilot, "You'll have to forgive the Stormtroopers. We're a COMPNOR Base. We only have Stormtroopers on base, even for the most basic security needs. And I regret, but both these Stormtroopers, well, its their first time doing these baby sitting missions as they call them," the pilot shared a dramatic dirty look with Pawn's stormtrooper, then put a hand to his chest with a smile as he turned back to the Ensign, "I'm accustomed to these hops across the galaxy. Just did one to Corellia the other week. Typically, the base or ship's crew sets us up in some pilot's lounge to wait it out. We're here for a few hours, day at most, then we get picked up by another COMPNOR vessel or you ship us to a nearby Imperial garrison upon orders from COMPNOR. We don't do much but sit around and wait, really. We'll stay out of your hair. We promise. You'll probably be getting a communicate from COMPNOR in a few hours to ferry us to the nearest planet garrison and we go along our merry way from there."

"I see," the Ensign replied, then added, "Well, I don't see much harm in it. Considering we're on yellow alert, you understand I'll have to defer to the NCO of these Navy Troopers here---"

"---I gotta pee!" the technician grumbled as he started doing the pee dance in full form now..

"Right," the Ensign said, eyeing the technician with disgust as he turned his attention back to the respectable shuttle pilot, "Bad Love Squadron is on standby. So their lounge will be open. Best place I can do on the fly---and it has a refresher close by---"

"----Oh thank the Force!" the technician beamed.

"Once I either receive new orders from COMPNOR or we can find more suitable arrangements aboard the Darkest Night for you," the Ensign turned to the security detail, "I need two Troopers posted here around the clock. Two more to escort this group to Bad Love's Pilot Lounge. The rest of you Troopers, search and secure this ship! Report to me any issues!"

A course, they would find a perfectly clean ship. It would have its fair share of converted smuggling holes and other dings and dents, but the ship would clean of everything but the essentials, as was COMPNOR protocol when transferring an impounded vessel for smuggling, now being re purposed for military use. Pawn was so use to the drum beat of it all, he minus well be in the military himself.

Pawn and his group shuffled up to the two waiting Troopers as their escort to the pilot lounge, as the other Troopers rushed past them to deal with the freighter search. One of the two Troopers waiting for them rested a hand on his blaster, as to make a point, as the Ensign came up to address the final check in the process.

Really? thought Pawn, adding, Someone has to get a life beyond being Mr. Security! He probably tells the females at the local tavern that he's the security chief! Egotistical bloat!

"Sergeant," the Ensign addressed the ranking Navy Trooper, "Their orders check out. All clean, simple in-and-out op. Can they proceed?"

Bardan Edit: Language

TAG Bardan_Jusik (security), @Laine_Snowtrekker (information as needed)

 

IC: Sergeant Oak
Naval Trooper Detachment assigned to Monitoring Station, Sentry Moon


The man was cold, Oak thought. Just cold. But, right. This was a combat zone, not a reunion of past battle deeds. However much Oak wanted the Security Chief to show more feeling towards one of his own lieutenants (thinking how the Chief would take Oak's own death just as coldly and heartlessly), the Sergeant knew the man was right. However much he hated it, he knew the Chief was right.

"What kind of blaster rifles were they using Sergeant?"

Oak nodded, bending down and picking up the A280 Blaster Rifle, then handed the rifle to the Chief, "Standard stock, Chief. Has a new feeling to it, almost like it came straight off of a BlasTech cargo hauler. Strange, isn't it?"

Deep in the forests, a deep horn---followed by another two horns---followed, each succeeding horn being in higher pitch then the previous.

"Oh Force!" Oak said, grabbing his E-11 Blaster Rifle slung across his body, "Here they come again!" Oak looked to his own men, the Chief being damned at the moment with chain of command, "Monitoring Station, defensive positions!"

There wasn't much left to defend and the order was, really, pointless considering the Chief's presence. But it was the one thing Oak could control as a low-ranking Sergeant, the one thing he could do to prevent needless dying again. Oak looked at the Security Chief, fear wild in the young trooper's eyes, "Last time those horns blew Chief, they came in three waves. Each wave stronger then the last, as if they were probing our defenses with scouts hidden in the growth to observe the attack. I don't think they'll be needing that test anymore and I would expect a full strength attack."

"Incoming!" yelled a trooper; Oak couldn't tell if it was the rescue party of one of his own survivors. But it didn't matter. Deep from within the jungle came flying...helmets. Inside of those helmets were the heads of the missing team that went to check out the ruins.

As one of the heads came to a slow rolling stop, Oak looked at the faceless Scout Trooper helmet, then he lost whatever was left in his stomach, making sure he let his stomach contents out away from the Chief.

"Damn brutes!" Oak barked as he looked at the Chief, "What did we do to----"

The three horns sounded off again, this time in the reverse order.

"What the hell are they doing?" Oak said, looking at the Chief, "That was their order last time to retreat. They're not going to attack?"

"Sergeant?" came up a corporal from the monitoring station survivors, "Sir, we're two, ah, heads short. A Scout Trooper and a Naval Trooper. Does that mean there is survivors?"

Oak looked at the Corporal a long moment---as if trying to process his words---then he turned to the Chief, "Chief, the Corporal is right. We may have two MIAs out there, needing our help. The only thing, sir," Oak shook his head, pointing in the opposite direction of where the heads came flying from, "The orginial detachment went North. These heads came flying from the East. Why would these brutes move dead bodies that far of a distance. That's, at least, five miles sir between the ruins North to the East, where they have attacked from. Something doesn't make sense. That would take too much time."

"Chief," the Corporal nodded in respect, then to the Oak, "Sergeant. Excuse me, but my daddy was a miner in his youth. He use to tell me stories of mining and such. Sirs, if there are tunnels connecting the two locations, that could explain how they moved the bodies so quickly. Less forest & hills to cut across."

"Which," Oak's eyes went big, "They could also be hiding or moving forces as well," Oak started looking around suddenly, as if the forest was closing in a all too unpleasant way, "Chief, what the hell is this place?"

For the first time since joining the Navy, Oak wanted to go home. Medals be damned. He wanted to go home, back to his parents' house. But his sense of duty would keep him here, with his men, until their mission was over. He was a Imperial Navy Trooper first and foremost. Duty & honor before disgrace.


TAG Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: UNMF (npc), Alex Qipao19, Baille Harte, Limousine #3, Queen Natasha's Convoy
Location: Lepsawn 1-9's capital


"Hold onto your hats." The driver advised as he took a sudden right swerve, taking the limousine out of the convoy, out of the lane, cut across another lane, drifted sideways through an tangerine-coloured hardened plastic barrier that made a loud noise against the door beside Alex, and then turned to put the limousine on a direct collision course with a line of the "construction workers" ahead.

"Hope I'm right about this." The driver offered, accelerating to bring them parallel to the limousine containing the Commodore and Queen Natasha.

"You hope?!" Alex queried incredulously, leaning forward against his seat restraints.

KABOOM!!!

A flare of golden fire to their left snapped everyone's attention that way, to see an expanding blossom of fire pushing the Queen's vehicle up off the road with it's nose already dipping, the fire continuing skywards while the car flipped off the top and landed upside-down on the UNMF limousine in front of it!

"Reen!" Alex yelled upon seeing this, Baille as she took the full force of the ye4ll in her ear.

An advantage that a repulsorlift has over a wheeled groundcar, is that they are drokking quiet, so that the first of the suspicious construction people was cartwheeling over their bonnet and skylight before he even knew he was in danger, Baille turning to look out the back window, and seeing him impacting the grass verge in a bundle of limbs.

A cats cradle of laser fire from all directions, including some higher up, centred on the upside-down limousine, hardly diminished by the three surprised terrorists that the limo mowed down.

"What are you doing?" Alex shouted at the driver as it looked like he was swerving towards one of the sources of sniper fire, a blue-and-red lozenge-shaped container on wooden legs, fronted by a picture of the wavy-haired blonde holo-starlet, Wanda Starflare. "Get us over there, they need our help!"

"There are others heading to the Queen." The driver advised, accelerating towards the legs of the water tower. "But they'll be caught in a cross-fire."

Alex leaned to look past the driver out the front windscreen, the water tower supports rapidly growing larger as they approached. He looked to Baille and tapped a hand onto their scout trooper helms, sitting on the seats between them. "Helmets."

The car slammed into the nearside of the four latticed stilts holding up the water tower...

Tag: galactic-vagabond422 Bravo Mitth_Fisto The Vanguard

 

IC: Commodore Peter Englewood
Presidential Convoy, Lepsawn Central (planet of Lepsawn 1-9)

She couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do anything.
She was just frozen.

Englewood dropped down back behind the coverage of the flip-over presidential vehicle as a unrelenting stream of blaster fire came from a water tower: it seemed at least four enemy tangos, supported by a fifth tango armed with a T-21 light repeating blaster, had moved into position!

"Son of a mother's hutt!" Englewood swore out-loud as he slammed up against the vehicle's side. He looked over to Natalia, grabbing her shoulder and giving her a shake to bring her out of the temporary shock she appeared to be in. As she looked to Peter, the Commodore spoke, "Hey! You're alright!"

It was all the Commodore could muster at the moment, as he ejected the nearly spent mag from his blaster pistol and then slammed home another one. He was about to pop up for another shot when the ninja grabbed him and yelled, "RUN!"

Peter couldn't think---just act. He got up, grabbed Natalia by the forearm and ragged her along (hoping her own legs would kick in and she would start RUNNING on her own), and sprinted after the ninja who was carrying the Queen over his shoulder.

Hearing a loud CRUNCH and CLASH, he looked back to see one of the presidential vehicles crashing into that blasted water tower. While the enemy tangos had either fallen off, were holding on for dear life, or were somehow still firing their weapons, the tower started to come down, the crumpled leg being the tower's doom as the water slashed around inside with the sudden impact! Yes, whoever was driving that blasted vehicle, took out the enemy tangos---and would flood the street---but the resulting title wave would not only take out the enemy positions, but also had the very real possibility of taking them to their deaths as well, with debris being caught up and thrown their direction.

Peter didn't wait to see the end result, instead turning his head back around, and focusing on keeping up with Mr. Athlete over there. Being a command officer and having age meant lower physical requirements in the military---something Englewood was very clearly regretting at this moment in time!

As he followed the ninja into a clothing store---where shoppers were behind cover or lying on the floor with hands over their heads (others were bleeding or dead by stray blaster fire & debris)---Peter heard the tell-tale CRUNCH, CRASH, and SCREAMINGof people as the water tower came crashing down! While Peter---and the Ninja it seemed---very highly doubted it would reach the clothing store with such tidal force, the ninja was following Peter's train of thought and taking no chances. Up the flight of stairs, Peter came to a crashing stop at the second level of the clothing shop.

Natalia was here too---good, she made it.

"FREEZE!" barked two voices from behind!

Englewood turned around to see two UNMF troopers behind them! At first, he was glad to see them, then he remembered the first encounter and his heart suddenly stopped.

"Wait!" Englewood said, "He's helping us---" He ducked his head (covered by his hands, as he was stuck between the UNMF troopers and the ninja) as the snap-hiss predated moments prior to the hail of blaster fire! As soon as it had started, it had stopped!

Peter rose his head and looked around. The ninja was standing there, the Queen behind him on the floor, then he turned to the UNMF troopers. Both their weapons were in pieces on the floor---as deflected blaster bolts had rendered them as such---and three blaster carrying construction workers fell behind them, their bodies and blasters falling haphazardly down the flight of steps.

"The Queen is alive," the ninja said to everyone present, deactivating his lightsaber and bringing a blaster rifle across his chest once more from the floor where he dropped it, "She is yours. I will clear you a escape route." With a nod to the Commodore and Natalia, the black-clad ninja speed away, disappearing from sight around the corner. Both UNMF troopers looked at each other, then pulled out their blaster pistols, as one secured the stairway as the other checked on the Queen, who was apparently coming to.

Below, the streets were flooded, but the water was quickly finding sewage drainage holes to escape to. While the war zone was still that---a war zone---much of the concreted fighting was now dispersed among the sudden water tidal wave.

"Well," Peter said, collecting himself from the floor and holstering his blaster pistol, "If that ever----"

Suddenly the store front windows were being blown out and Englewood found himself going for cover as blaster equipped construction workers in the buildings across the street were not affected by the flooding streets and apparently tracked them here.

Peter realized one glaring truth: the two UNMF troopers and himself only had blaster pistols! Those wouldn't reach all the way across the street with accuracy or the needed punch to eliminate a threat! Englewood looked to Natalia, not knowing if she had picked up a blaster rifle along the way, "Please tell me you have a blaster rifle!"



TAG @galactic-vagabond4222 , Mitth_Fisto , The Vanguard , Sith-I-5

 

IC: Sergeant Pines, Naval Trooper security detachment (NPC)
Primary Hanger Bay, Darkest Night

Sergeant Pines, the Naval Trooper in charge of this squad was wound rather tight as he watched the YT-1760 set down in the middle of the primary hanger bay of the Darkest Night. It wasn't a standard imperial design, and they were in the midst of a warzone right now. What was going on? He looked to the ensign nominally in charge of the detachment. Young wet behind the ears kid. He couldn't run a lemonade stand on Tatooine. Typical junior officer.

"Orders, sir," the technician said, saluting and handing over a padd to the ensign, before he went on...and on....and on... Sergeant Pine zoned out at that point. He didn't care what their orders were or why they were here. That was for the Ensign to deal with. Besides his thoughts were on his comrades moon side. Word had it that the Monitoring Station set up by 2nd Platoon, Bravo had gone off wave, and that meant nothing good. He knew the Chief had gone down to personally look into the situation, and Pines hoped it was just a faulty transmitter.

"I see," the Ensign finally replied to the tech. "Well, I don't see much harm in it. Considering we're on yellow alert, you understand I'll have to defer to the NCO of these Navy Troopers here..."

Sergeant Pine waved them along. Though the Ensign had at least done the right thing in asking for advice from a senior NCO, it really wasn't the Sergeant's call at all. The best he could do was raise an objection and hope the officer on duty would see fit to listen to him. He shrugged, he saw nothing untoward here.

"Right." the Ensign continued. "Once I either receive new orders from COMPNOR or we can find more suitable arrangements aboard the Darkest Night for you," the Ensign turned to the security detail, "I need two Troopers posted here around the clock." Sergeant Pines pointed to Corporal Willow and PFC Maple for that duty. "Two more to escort this group to Bad Love's Pilot Lounge." Pines now pointed out Corporal Birch and PFC Elm. "The rest of you Troopers, search and secure this ship! Report to me any issues!" Sergeant Pines took command of the remainder of the detachment and boarded the ship to start the search.

"Sergeant," the Ensign addressed the ranking Navy Trooper, "Their orders check out. All clean, simple in-and-out op. Can they proceed?" The Naval Trooper paused halfway up the boarding ramp. Junior Officers, not the best at understanding the subtext of a situation without the spoken word. "You said it yourself sir," he emphasized the honorific. "Their orders check out, have them move along."

---

IC: Security Chief Cain Shinzon
Sentry Moon, Battle of Lespawn 1-9

"What kind of blaster rifles were they using Sergeant?" In response to Chief Shinzon's question Sergeant Oak reached over and picked up an A280 and showed it to him. "Standard stock, Chief. Has a new feeling to it, almost like it came straight off of a BlasTech cargo hauler. Strange, isn't it?" Rebels, Cain thought to himself. The Rebel Alliance was known to use these sorts of rifles, and there was an obvious Rebel presence in the system. It stood to reason that they had equipped these barbarians, or whatever they were, with their weapons. Of course, it could also mean that they had been battlefield pickups, taken off of dead Rebels, but Cain doubted that. They didn't have the well worn look of a battlefield pickup. Still, that wasn't his judgement to make, he would send the info up the chain of command and let the eggheads in MI sort it out.

Deep in the forests, a deep horn---followed by another two horns---followed, each succeeding horn being in higher pitch then the previous. They made Cain's blood boil, not in anger, but as a call to battle, to war. These barbarians could almost be Mandalorian he thought to himself, and thus perhaps were not as uncivilized as he had previously thought.

"Oh Force!" The Sergeant said, expressing himself in such an aruetii (foreign) way as he unslung his E-11. "Here they come again!" Oak looked to his own men who were readying their own weapons. "Monitoring Station, defensive positions!" Cain found himself following suit, bringing up his Mandalorian built blaster rifle as the newly arrived Naval Troopers did the same with their own weapons. Meanwhile, Sergeant Oak looked at the Security Chief, fear wild in the young trooper's eyes, "Last time those horns blew Chief, they came in three waves. Each wave stronger then the last, as if they were probing our defenses with scouts hidden in the growth to observe the attack. I don't think they'll be needing that test anymore and I would expect a full strength attack."

Cain thought about that, he had less men than the OP had defending it before. if this was going to be an all out assault, they could very well be wiped out. "Incoming!" yelled a trooper; Cain couldn't tell if it was the rescue party of one of the survivors, but that didn't matter. Deep from within the jungle came flying...helmets. Inside of those helmets were the heads of the missing team that went to check out the ruins.

As one of the heads came to a slow rolling stop, Oak looked at the faceless Scout Trooper helmet, then he lost whatever was left in his stomach, making sure he let his stomach contents out away from the Chief. "Damn brutes!" Oak barked as he looked at the Chief, "What did we do to----" The three horns sounded off again, this time in the reverse order.

"What the hell are they doing?" Oak said, looking at the Chief, "That was their order last time to retreat. They're not going to attack?"

Cain almost smiled behind his T-Visor as he shook his head and clicked his rifle back to safe. "No, not yet Sergeant." He understood these creatures, almost admired them now. "That was a warning, they're telling us to leave...or else." He didn't mention his other thought on what it could mean. They could just be trying to scare the Troopers before launching their final attack, but Cain saw that as the less likely answer.

"Sergeant?" came up a corporal from the monitoring station survivors, "Sir, we're two, ah, heads short. A Scout Trooper and a Naval Trooper. Does that mean there is survivors?"

Oak looked at the Corporal a long moment---as if trying to process his words---then he turned to the Chief, "Chief, the Corporal is right. We may have two MIAs out there, needing our help. The only thing, sir," Oak shook his head, pointing in the opposite direction of where the heads came flying from, "The original detachment went North. These heads came flying from the East. Why would these brutes move dead bodies that far of a distance. That's, at least, five miles sir between the ruins North to the East, where they have attacked from. Something doesn't make sense. That would take too much time."

Cain shook his head. "They wouldn't have to move entire bodies that distance Sergeant, just their heads." He let out a short nasty laugh as he furrowed his brow under his buy'ce (helmet). That was still a rather rapid movement of forces considering the terrain.

"Chief," the Corporal nodded in respect, then to the Oak, "Sergeant. Excuse me, but my daddy was a miner in his youth. He use to tell me stories of mining and such. Sirs, if there are tunnels connecting the two locations, that could explain how they moved the bodies so quickly. Less forest & hills to cut across." Cain nodded his head. That made a lot of sense. It also explained why aerial recon hadn't noticed any signs of massed formations or indigenous personnel.

"Which," Oak's eyes went big as he came to a similar conclusion, "They could also be hiding or moving forces as well," Oak started looking around suddenly, as if the forest was closing in a all too unpleasant way, "Chief, what the hell is this place?" Cain regarded the NCO for a moment. "Just another dirtball soon to be under the absolute control of the Empire."

He considered his options for a moment. The OP was certainly lost, not much the monitoring station could monitor if it was under constant attack. If MI wanted to ensure it's safety they would need to get the Commodore to devote more resources to protecting it. Cain wasn't sure if it was worth the effort, but that was a decision well above his pay grade. He did have two troopers still out there though. Normally the loss of a trooper was nothing to bat an eyelash at, but these two had survived (or at least so far there was no indication they were dead), alone and in enemy controlled territory. That indicated strength above and beyond that of the normal Naval, or even Storm, Trooper. That strength was worth saving, or at least an attempt at saving. That meant going into the jungle after them, and with a small team. A large group would attract too much attention.

"Sergeant Oak," he called out quietly. "Redistribute ammo from the wounded and the rescue party to your squad. I want everyone in your squad with a full load of ammo, rations and water." The man's eyes grew wide with fear but Cain didn't care These men had been here the longest, they knew better then the rescue party what to expect of the natives. That meant those eight men, along with Cain, would be going to find their missing comrades. It was a small enough group to hopefully avoid attracting any attention from the natives.

Shinzon tilted his head to one side, activating his commlink. This time he wanted to talk to the shuttle personally. "Dustoff, Dustoff." He used the shuttle's callsign. "This is Reaper" he used his own callsign. "OP is lost, I repeat OP is lost. We have 27 KIA and two MIA in addition to the WIA you've collected. Be advised enemy forces are utilizing new issue A280 blaster rifles in addition to primitive weaponry." He knew the shuttle's crew would pass that along through their chain of command until it reached MI's desk. "Come in for pickup of the rescue force for exfil back to the Darkest Night." He waited a moment for the shuttle to acknowledge his message with a "Roger that, inbound," before he continued on. "Forces remaining ground side will form a perimeter for you to load those troopers, and then we'll head inland to find MIA troopers..."

TAG: Bravo, Laine_Snowtrekker (For MI mentions, information passed along to MI chain of command)

 

IC: Natalia Markova
Presidential Convoy, Lepsawn Central

She remained curled up, knees to her chest, eyes wide, one hand wrapped in a stranglehold on the datapad, and her other arm gripping her legs pressing herself even smaller behind the wrecked vehicle. The navigator couldn't move, nearly couldn't breathe, her mind was filled with discordant noises, not the clear and crisp sound of a bow across strings. When the commodore shook her shoulder she snapped flailing about with arms and legs nearly kicking her commanding officer in her panic.

A sharp pain radiated from her left shoulder. A wide red cut across her upper arm turning the shortened white sleeve red with her own blood. Her chest rose and fell erratically as her mind was fill with fear.

She was bleeding, her blood was flowing out of her. She didn't even feel the sting anymore she was transfixed by riverlet of crimson running down her arm.

"RUN" a voice called out, suddenly a firm hand yanked her to her feet. Behind her a resounding crash drew her attention. Looking over her shoulder, legs merely plodding along without the same urgency as her commander, she saw the toppling water tower with a world rending creak. Her eyes widened and finally her legs began to pick up their pace.

She was not as fast as the man clad in black or the older man in front of her but, she was running faster than she had in basic training. The datapad was glued to her chest all she could focus on was following the Commodore and the man clad in black. The cries, the sounds of destruction had become nothing but white noise behind her.

She could hear the rush of water roaring behind her, she forced everything she had into her legs willing herself to go faster, go beyond what she could physically do. A quick turn and a rush up some stairs the world had changed around her. No longer was she fleeing from a warzone, but, was now in a boutique of sorts. The dead and dying on the first floor passed her by like fleeting notes, heard but not noticed under the cacophony ringing in her skull.

There was only a moment of respite as she came to a stop slamming into the back of the Commodore, breathing still sort and quick. A harsh authoritative voice rang out in the space.

"FREEZE!" Natalia did just that standing stock straight hands rising above her head. She didn't even have time to duck or drop to the ground as blasters resounded and a blade snapped to life. Her body still threw itself at floor even after the fighting had subsided, she had no control over how it reacted it just did.

"The Queen is alive," The man in black called out, "She is yours. I will clear you a escape route."

In the silence that followed Natalia slowly began to come to her feet eyes constantly scanning for danger, the hair standing on the back of her neck.

"Well," The commander started.

"Is...is it over…" the words tumbled from her lips then were suddenly answered by the sharp chirps of rifles. Again her body moved before her mind could process diving for cover, the same cover the commodore found.

"Please tell me you have a blaster rifle!" He shouted.

Her grey eyes looked at him then snapped around the space, scanning every corner, then looked at her hands. She had nothing, no pistol, no rifle, not even a knife, all she had was a datapad.

Wait, it still worked she could...there were any number of…

Her thoughts were stopped by a stray bolt flying past her head burning a few of her loose strands of hair.

She moved away from that side falling onto left shoulder and hissing in pain.

The blasters ringed in her ears, and she remained on the floor.

"No...No." Was all she could say, still clutching the datapad to her chest. More shots ring out above her head but, everything seemed to quiet around her slowly she pulled the datapad away from her chest its glow was almost comforting to her now.

That's right she was still in the civilian network, she could...she could. Fighting down her fear she poked her head up just for a moment looking for a street sign. She just got a glimpse before she ducked back down under a hail of red bolts.

"Ok...Ok." she said laying flat on her stomach tapping away on tablet. She had their location, she had the enemy location. A few moments later she was in the Fire Suppression system. Networks were her battlefield and everything was networked, in one way or another. With a few taps the water began to rain upon the assassins. This would merely inconvenience the beings but, this wasn't the end of her plan. Now she needed to bypass the breakers on the electrical system, she would only get on burst but, hopefully it would be enough. Doing the math she might be able to get enough current to do it, if not the power should be enough to stun them for a moment. They would have to capitalize on that.

"Sir," she called out over the din of combat, "I'm going to overload the electrical system in the buildings across the street. It might give you a moment or two to get across without being under fire." Her finger hovered, wavering a little, over the key to send a sizable amount of power through wires sending a jolt of electricity coursing through the soggy environment. "When you and the others are in position give the order and I'll do it." Her body was still shaking her mind fighting against the discordant symphony growing in the back of her mind. The bolts continued to fly over her head and she could feel her will weakening.

She hoped the commodore made his choice soon. Because she didn't know how long she could stop herself from shutting down again.

TAG: Bravo Mitth_Fisto The Vanguard Sith-I-5

 

IC: Jengleheimer Voss ‘aka Jingle’
Ambush zone, Capital City

After being caught in an ambush there was little that he could do. Well, there were many things he could of done if the stupid hover limo hadn't flipped over. When he had come to he quietly had cursed the vehicles lack of safety restraints. Putting a hand to his head he had to get his bearings. The queen was already missing, and the glint of something moving out of the vehicle above him looked like it just might be the shoes of his commanding officer for his strange mission track.

Checking his bag he noted a few scattered bombs about the ceiling which he set to collecting before heading out into the battle. Which had him freezing in a moment of pure terror, he heard the snap hiss, a sound he had been trained to recognize as one of two things. Either a night terror of the core worlds called a Jedi was here, or the day terror's of the enlisted special ops teams was here in the form of an inquisitor. Inquisitors were as likely to kill you as save you, their goals and purposes were always that of either their own or of the Emperor himself and only they or the Emperor knew the truth and whose will they were they for. Then again it could be the terror of efficiency that was Darth Vader. All of these ran through his mind and kept him frozen in place like a rabbit caught in the open. Slowly he had put away the last of the charges and looked loathingly at his 'rebel' uniform. Of all the times to risk friendly fire or have your mind read by a Jedi and killed for it. Of all the times.

Finally he heard the sound of retreat and grabbing his rifle from behind his back he crawled out and began to follow as soon as he saw that the Commodore was following freely whomever it was with the queen. Following suit he noticed wave of water coming at him and the fact that he wasn't going to make it. Stomping his mechanical leg down he set the servos into overdrive to dig into the permacrete as he curled himself in ball over his bag of bombs and hooked his flesh leg around the artificial one. As the water tried to force him from his chosen spot he felt his hip cry out in pain as the war between artificial and organic strengths and weakness fought against each other. He did not try to hold it back as he screamed and pulled with his good leg to try and force his body down as the water tried to tear him up and off his artificial leg.

Then it was over almost as quickly and fiercely it had begun. He was left like a wet rat curled around his prized half submerged in the water. Unlocking his leg he began to walk toward the building again where the others had gone when a shot from behind set the water to boil and steam a short distance away. It had gone wide and the two that followed went even wider, but the pause as he tried to rush forward was not a good sign. It meant somebody was aiming. Stopping into a crouch the second burst went just over his lowered head, and then he over-rode the safeties on his servos again, leaping toward the building, straight for a second story window. Shooting just before hitting he landed inside. . .alright more of a controlled crash as his body tumbled through the room like a discarded skipping stone until he ended his tumble inside of a rack of something soft and silky. "Going to feel that in the morning." he grunted as he slowly got up and saw several people cowering among the racks and about the clothing store. "Everybody move to the rear exits! GO!" he simply shouted as he began limping past cover back toward the front windows where he still heard blaster fire, only it didn't seem to be tracking his position, it seemed to be going more central to the store. . .probably where the Commodore was with the Queen. Good news was it wasn't a Jedi or they would be dead and the bad guys would have no one to shoot anymore. Bad news was, it wasn't a Jedi and they would only do what they were mandated and the worth of anyone else's lives if the stories were true would be forfeit. "Just peachy."

Peaking around the corner he took mental aim of where he could clearly see one jackal spraying in bursts, probably the same one that had seen him earlier. Someone further down was shooting as well, but more of a spray and pray method, so target one was chosen. Checking his water logged blaster rifle he counted softly to himself down from four, and when he reached one he spun on his good knee, snapped the barrel down from the raised position, barely got a good visual of the man in his scope, and squeezed. His shots tracked up the mans body from the recoil, first shot hitting the gut off center mass, the next was left chest, and the last from the semi-auto burst seemed to hit the mans right ear. Quickly rolling to his left continuing past the window he propped himself back into a seating position, "Not too rusty. Now if only I knew how many assissines I had left to kill. Maybe some local support. . .maybe some comes that don't make my head want to explode while we're wishing." breathing heavily and watched the blaster fire set a couple racks on fire he waited and counted until he would get a break in the fire to try and replicate his initial kill.

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

 

IC: Reen G'Spaugh
Presidential Convoy, Lepsawn Central

The pride Reen held a moment ago had dried up into a feint as she felt the mood within the limo change for the worse. She was now reading the face of the Commodore who had the look of someone piecing together a puzzle slowly, then rapidly as he shouted, "SITH!"

Reen tensed up, obviously alarmed at whatever discovery the Commodore had just made. Before she could pipe up a question, within the blink of an eye she felt weightless as the limo was up-ended by an intense explosion preceeded by an eery silence. Light travels faster than sound after all. Her adrenaline made each second feel like a minute, slowing down real time into a horror show that she didn't want to watch. Her reflexes began to take over and her questions shoved into a corner of her thought processes.

"BRACE!" was all she could muster.

It was too late.

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

When she came to, the Queen, along with the Commodore and Natalia, were gone. She winced her eyes in pain, her ears still ringing. Taking inventory of her person she moved slowly, unaware of what may be broken and not wanting to further injure herself by trying to move too fast. As her hearing returned slowly, the surrounding sounds began to flood her ears and she realized a firefight was taking place just outside the upside down limo!

"Uggghhh," she grunted as she moved faster, feeling a sharp pain coming from her left ribcage. Frack, she thought, that doesn't feel normal. She patted her thigh, her hand looking for her blaster pistol without success. Great. She couldn't stay inside that wreck, she needed to move.

Crawling out of the vehicle, she couldn't help but reminisce her accident, the one that lost her Nebula Squadron that fateful day. Deep down, Reen still wishes she just would have collided with the blasted asteroid and be killed rather than lose everything she had. Coming back to the situation at hand, the only difference was the hysterical blindness that no one could explain wasn't handicapping her, for now. Gritting her teeth she raised herself up onto one knee and grabbed a blaster from a down UNMF soldier.

"Mind if I borrow this?" she glibly asked the corpse.

Reen was a pilot, so she wasn't used to seeing the dead bodies from a ground battle. Fire and forget, one and done. That's not to say she wasn't capable. All pilots were trained for ground combat in case they were ever shot down, but she was a good pilot and consequently was rarely shot down.

She raised her head to get a read on the situation only to have what looked like a construction worker fire at her. She threw herself onto the vehicle as cover, wincing from the pain in her ribs.

"G'Spaugh to convoy team, is anyone out there?" she clicked over the radio as she fired two shots on the construction worker.

@Mitth_Fisto @Bravo @galactic-vagabond422 @Sith-I-5

 

IC: UNMF (npc), Baille Harte, Alex Qipao19, Limousine #3, Water Tower base
Location: Lepsawn 1-9's capital


BAMM!!!

Alex' scout trooper helm' slipped from his double palm grip and smacked into the glased partition behind the driver , with the impact into the water tower's leg support, both Imperials straining forward against their seat restraints.

A pop ahead of them, and then the forward cabin was being filled with anti-concussion foam, the white bubbles appearing beyond the UNMF driver's head and shoulders and rapidly obscuring their view out the front windscreen.

"Get us out of here!" Baille yelled, looking up through the skylight at the leaning tower. "Full reverse!"

She slipped the white helmet over her head, not that it would do much good if they were still here when the tower collapsed.

Beside her, Alex detached his seat belt and slid off the seat onto his knees, to retrieve his dropped helmet. He fell against the front as the car jerked back, then rolled across the floor as the limo did a reversed hand-brake turn, the driver clearly not letting the crash foam faze him.

Baille glanced out her window, her helmet's macro-binocular display bringing up the focus of her attention and automatically zooming into the side of the limousine sandwich, circular scarlet targeting reticules shrinking round Natalia and Englewood's forms as they put down their heads and sprinted left out of the range of her vision.

There was a loud crash behind the limousine as the driver sped them Force knew where, and Alex was no help, aqua-planing over the floor of the passenger area.

Short shrubbery and white-painted curbs blurred past on the left, then the vehicle's nose rose without warning, there was a glimpse of wide steps, then the plate glase window that they dove through into the lobby of some building, an angular orange sofa spinning out of the limousine's pathway, and into her field of vision.

Harte leaned to her right as that side of the car slammed side-on into something.

The reception desk, she assumed.

"Frag!" His butt on the floor, his legs bridged over Madeleine the long-blaster, and his back wedged into a corner, Alex got his partner's attention. "Get out there and cover us whilst we get ourselves sorted."

Baille undid her seat belt, and kicked her door open. Or kicked it, anyway. She rapped hard on the glase partition, rendered opaque by the thousands of crash foam bubbles coating the driver side. "You'll have to unlock the doors!"

"Oh, right!"

Well, at least the driver was still alive.

There was a decisive click, and she tried again, the door swinging open to a forty-degree angle from the scarred flanks, and she could hear panicked screams, nearby moans, and the distant crump of blaster fire from outside, as well as a familiar sound but one that she could not place.

She stepped out, her head down as she kicked the door shut behind her to protect Alex, shuffled round the rear of the vehicle and found a small gap between the limo's right flank and the crumpled front of the reception desk, its glossy finish cracked and indented.

A blonde woman in a light grey business jacket had her hands on either side of her screaming face, as she made herself visible on the other side of the counter.

"UNMF!" Baille yelled at her, drawing on the reputation of the local security force to help calm the femme. She slipped into the gap between the car and the counter, dropping to one knee, then coming up enough to aim her E-11 blaster carbine over the dust-and-glass-covered boot. "Division 6! Stay down!"

Thankfully, the woman quietened to a distressed sob, and presumably dropped back out of sight.

Baille could feel shaking from inside the limousine as someone moved about.

A swaying, metre-long shard of glass, fell from the top of the lobby window's frame, shattering onto the floor just inside the window, in a fountain of cubed glase.

"G'Spaugh to convoy team, is anyone out there?" The voice of that other pilot, Alex' old squad-mate, sounded from the comlink pinned to her STANG vest, catching Baille by surprise, and drawing a smile out of her.

She looked towards the upside-down car again, but could not quite see it from this angle afforded by the building entrance, although she did note a black, flotsam-filled deluge running along the road, lapping over the curb in places.

As if in sympathy, the building's fire suppression system chose that moment to kick in, a roaring deluge of water cascading down over the entirety of the lobby, soaking Baille in short order; eliciting shocked screams from nearby but unseen femmes, including herself, it must be said; and giving the limousine a good clean.

The pilot glanced around, not seeing any flames, wondering what in Flamewind has set the sprinklers off.

Shrugging, she tapped her comlink. "G'Spaugh?! Harte here. Our vehicle is inside the lobby of one of the nearby buildings, don't know which one. Where are you, and what's your status?"

Tag: @Bravo @Mitth_Fisto @The Vanguard @galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Sergeant Aricor Colbea (npc) and Ensign Jaycas Braxhave (npc)
Brig, Darkest Night

Aricor eyed the line of holding cells, then addressed the stormtrooper leading the detachment assisted by the chief's troopers. "Lieutenant Levric sent me here to interrogate the Rebels."

"She sent us here," Braxhave put in.

Aricor silenced him with a raised eyebrow; somehow the kid didn't yet know how to keep his mouth shut. Too much emphasis on individual ruthlessness in the new curriculum and not enough on teamwork. That, and too many rich beings deigning to fill the ranks of the Imperial fleet with their children. Kid couldn't help who his parents were, though, and he had the makings of a good officer. Eventually. If he earned it just like anybody else. He nodded at the stormtrooper. "Take us to the identified leader."

TAG: @Bravo (as stormtrooper in charge and Rebels), @Bardan_Jusik (in case any of Cain's troopers have a reaction)

--

IC: Lieutenant Gwen Levric
MI Squad Room, Darkest Night

Passive-aggressive communications were one of Gwen's banes. The cover response to her request for materials on 'Knowledge' from Coveway's COMPNOR base positively oozed with it. The materials request was a simple one to fill, only requiring approximately three clicks and a password to send, but that cover letter made it seem like she'd been requesting top secret files stored on Scarif. As if the war hinged on a COMPNOR station's files on a hardened criminal.

Still, the file would be rather hefty, if printed out on flimsi. Levric scrolled through the material. A string of non-talkative corpses (the only kind, in her experience) and a handful of petty, closemouthed criminals, all connected by the name Knowledge. Whispers of a crime syndicate headed up by a ruthless boss, a syndicate guilty of all sorts of crimes--spice trafficking, gunrunning, and black marketeering at the top of the list. Nothing duracrete, though, on the identity of Knowledge. No hint of having worked with Rebels, though, but that didn't mean Knowledge, if on Lepsawn1-9, wasn't working with Rebels here. Dangerous person, whoever they were, for Rebels to be dealing with, though. And why would they call themselves Knowledge?

Using a castoff account that couldn't be traced to the Star Destroyer (but rather to some anonymous Imperial citizen), Levric logged onto a regular HoloNet message board, one having to do with various works of art and media. She picked the message thread on 'least favorite childhood memories' and posted:

When i was little, i played with these kids in my neighborhood. a bunch of them were bigger than me and my best friend and we called them the Big Kids & we called everybody else just the kids. & then some of them went & built a treehouse fort set waaaay up above the 'spawning ground & those kids said me and my best friend couldn't come up unless we could guess who was up there: the Big Kids, the kids, or a mix of the 2 groups. and it was really frustrating because we couldn't peek and they were taunting us but they were so high up we didn't know whose voice was whose. my best friend went home right away but i spent hours out there trying to figure out who was up there so high in the treehouse. now that i'm grown, i still wish i could know, i wish i could get them all smashed on Corellian ales and get them to spill. as they say, In Vino Veritas, right?​

Maybe her contacts would see that, know it was from, and give her something that would help with the thorny problem that was the Golan II. She tiredly rubbed an eyebrow with the pad of one thumb, closing her eyes briefly. Something would have to give in this war, wouldn't it? They'd all get to go home at some point, right?

"Ma'am?"

Levric looked up sharply. "Yes, Corporal?"

The dark-skinned Coruscanti woman nodded shortly before saying, "I've reached the end point of the messages, and Wilmal has broken through the encryption. There is no sending point."

"No sending point?"

"Whoever's using the bounce method has also programmed it to erase the original, to delete the source location. However, it does appear to be coming from one of the Neglected Cities closest to the capital and ending at the Golan II. Unfortunately we cannot pinpoint its original sender any closer than that."

"And the message?"

Wilmal spoke up from his console. "It's a status update on an attack on the capital city."

"Say that again."

"An attack on the capital city, ma'am. The first message we intercepted seems to have indicated the move of supplies, though the type has been obscured. The second is a status update on the timing, though it's not precise. It's more...'we're on track' than 'this is when it's happening'."

"Essentially we know something without knowing anything then?"

"That sounds about right, ma'am."

"A typical situation, then," Levric said drily. If it was the Empire in the Golan II, or the Empire was allowing whatever was going on in the Golan II to go on, this could be potentially...explosive. "Well, then, we need to find out more. I expect I'll be hearing from the sergeant soon. Until then, keep analyzing the messages between the station and the planet. Perhaps an earlier message will enlighten us as to the details of their operation. Hatheat, find out if there's any historical or literary references to Knowledge in the cultures on Coveway and Lepsawn1-9; as much as possible, as soon as possible."

"Yes, ma'am," all three chorused, and they set to work.

Two alerts popped up onto her console. First, a chain-of-command field report from Cain, that he considered the monitoring station on the moon as lost. With over twenty KIA, two MIA, and a shuttleful of WIA, she didn't doubt his judgment. The moon station would be useful, but if it couldn't be held, they'd have to tackle the problem from a different angle. It was the hostiles' use of new issue A280 blaster rifles that was truly alarming. That was either gang work or Rebel work, and, at the moment, there was precious little allowing for differentiation between the two groups. She wished Cain luck as he went after the MIA troopers. After the shuttle returned, she'd take any reports they provided and make sure they were ready for Totter or the Commodore.

The second alert, however, was of more immediate worry. One of the shuttle bays had reported the arrival of a YT-1760, along with four personnel--two techs and two ISB troopers--who were now aboard the ship headed to one of the lounges (and a refresher, apparently). The YT-1760 had been delivered from Coveway on the request of the Darkest Night and Vicks.

Weird thing was, the Sector Plexus report had specified that their intercepted freighter had been a YT-1210, not a YT-1760. And there was no record of a YT-1760 having been intercepted by Customs; Levric ran a search of the Sector Plexus reports she had on file twice, and nothing regarding a YT-1760 came up.

The freighter in the shuttle bay wasn't the ship they'd requested. And if it weren't the ship they'd requested, whose ship was it? And who were the techs and troopers? Were they Imperials? Rebels? Gang members? And if they weren't Imperials, then why were they aboard? "Wilmal, get me live feeds of any and all pilots' lounges aboard the ship," she ordered.

"Understood," he answered, and started tapping at keys.

Better to keep an eye on this than be blindsided. No need to call in an alarm until they had more data. Always have a holdout, she thought. That's one of Baisfre's rules, too. Good thing it's one I follow.

TAG: @Bravo (response on the HoloNet forum [if you need explanation, just PM me], etc.)
OOC: whew, this was long.

 

IC: Sergeant Oak
Naval Trooper Detachment assigned to Monitoring Station, Sentry Moon


"Sergeant Oak," he called out quietly. "Redistribute ammo from the wounded and the rescue party to your squad. I want everyone in your squad with a full load of ammo, rations and water."

Oak went about his business as somberly as a man preparing for his own death at the hands of another. He issued his orders quietly to his men, reassuring each one---or maybe he was reassuring himself---as the ammo & rations went the rounds. Despite what seemed to be his soon-to-be-death, Oak felt---if even for a fleeting moment---strength and reassurance that, with the Chief leading them, they would succeed. He pushed down his own fears, his own doubt, and approached the Security Chief.

"Chief, we're all set," Oak looked off for a moment---away from that imposing visor---and turned back as he collected himself, "Chief, I wanted to apologize for my behavior. Whatever has happened here, it doesn't excuse me from being calm and collected in the face of danger to make rational decisions for the safety of my men and the success of the mission. It won't happen again, sir," Oak turned and signaled his men to gather up, then he turned back to the Chief, "Sir, if the Corporal is right and there are tunnels. Can't the Darkest Night aid us by reconfigure its sensors to look for gaps between the top soil and bottom lays? Or even do a mirco sound burst---much like sonar---to see what is under the ground? It could aid us in knowing where these tunnels are at."

Oak was no engineer. But if his studying up on HoloNet documentary shows every night was anything, he was quickly becoming a doctorate in all things useless information---until now. He hoped he was right, or he just made himself a arse clown in front of the Security Chief.


TAG @Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Stormtrooper Staff Sergeant
Brig, Darkest Night


Aricor eyed the line of holding cells, then addressed the stormtrooper leading the detachment assisted by the chief's troopers. "Lieutenant Levric sent me here to interrogate the Rebels."

"She sent us here," Braxhave put in.

Behind his faceless helmet, the Stormtrooper rolled his eyes. With the "situation" in the hanger bay with the escape pods, the already thinned Stormtrooper ranks aboard the Star Destroyer became even more precious. With the ranking Lieutenant of the rank-and-file Stormtroopers on the bridge to coordinate effective security & defensive measures aboard the Star Destroyer with the Imperial Navy Troopers, what was left of the platoon was scattered about: 1 squad provided extra security (in working relation with the Imperial Navy Troopers already there) for the reactor and engines area (a Sergeant lead that squad), while another 2 squads provided security in each of the hanger bays respectfully (the squad in the rear hanger had the remaining ranking NCO, the Sergeant Major, while the forward hanger bay had a Sergeant), while the last squad was with the Lieutenant providing security outside the bridge. All of the "critical" areas aboard the Star Destroyer were supported by a Stormtrooper presence, in addition to the Imperial Navy Troopers, to adhere to the Yellow Alert that still gripped the Star Destroyer in the Lepsawn Star System.

The remaining four Stormtroopers were on the brig, the area with the highest "enemy presence" aboard technically. This half-squad was lead by the third highest ranking Stormtrooper (behind the Lieutenant and Sergeant Major), yours truly---the Staff Sergeant.

He hated this detail. He would rather be in the forward or rear hanger bays, readying for a possible boarding party, verses standing here babysitting for these Imperial Navy Trooper types. But, apparently---like all over the Empire----Imperial Navy Troopers were second-rate cannon fodder. Better suited at taking up enemy blaster bolts then actually useful in any combat situation. Security Chief Shinzon had possibly actually made his Troopers into something a little more then cannon fodder, but the Staff Sergeant was a Stormtrooper. The best of the best. Not some wanna-be rent-a-cop when they got out of the military, like most Troopers would probably become after their four or six year stints in the Imperial Navy.

Adding insult to injury, now the Staff Sergeant had to deal with Military Intelligence desk jockeys. If the NCO thought Naval Troopers were bad to work with, MI put the "overrated" in overrated. The Staff Sergeant never really understood how a bunch of desk nerds could be useful in a blaster fight. But, yet again, he wasn't paid to ask questions, he was paid to obey orders and kill Rebels. Pretty simple.

Aricor silenced him with a raised eyebrow; somehow the kid didn't yet know how to keep his mouth shut. Too much emphasis on individual ruthlessness in the new curriculum and not enough on teamwork. That, and too many rich beings deigning to fill the ranks of the Imperial fleet with their children. Kid couldn't help who his parents were, though, and he had the makings of a good officer. Eventually. If he earned it just like anybody else. He nodded at the stormtrooper. "Take us to the identified leader."

Please? the Stormtrooper thought quietly to himself. He looked to the other trooper guarding the inside of the door (with two other Imperial Navy Troopers already there---and not counting the security console with three other Navy Troopers at it just a few feet away or the two Imperial Navy Troopers outside the brig's doors on the exterior flanking it), "Stay here," he turned to the MI nerds, "Follow me."

The Staff Sergeant lead them down the isle of cells where, in the far distance, the other two Stormtroopers patrolled silently in lock-step up and down the cells. Two groups of paired Navy Troopers patrolled at various points throughout the cells as well, while a single cell---far at the end of the cell block along the right side---was being silently guarded by a single Imperial Navy Trooper standing outside its solid bars.

The Staff Sergeant lead the MI people to it, looking at them as he stopped, "Here he is. He refuses to talk, unless he talks to the commanding officer," the Stormtrooper nodded his helmet to the leader's bruised face and bloodied lip, "We taught him a lesson about that," the soldier then pointed to a interrogation room at the very back wall of the cell block, "Its all set up for you," turning to the Navy Trooper, the Stormtrooper ordered, "Open it up."

The Navy Trooper nodded and typed in the correct authorization to open the cell. The Stormtrooper glared at the Rebel leader through his emotionless lenses, "Move it scum!"


TAG @Laine_Snowtrekker , @Bardan_Jusik (as needed)
OOG: Second half of the posting coming tomorrow.

 

IC: Security Chief Cain Shinzon
Sentry Moon, Battle of Lespawn 1-9

Cain watched suspiciously through his T-Visor as Sergeant Oak carried out his orders, ensuring the men who would be staying behind had full loads of ammo, rations and water. The man was close to breaking, though he wasn't there yet. if he showed weakness out there in the jungle though, if he proved to be a danger in any way to Imperial Supercommando or his men, Cain wouldn't hesitate to execute the man on the spot.

"Chief, we're all set," Oak looked off for a moment as cain nodded in acknowledgement. "Chief, I wanted to apologize for my behavior. Whatever has happened here, it doesn't excuse me from being calm and collected in the face of danger to make rational decisions for the safety of my men and the success of the mission. It won't happen again, sir." Cain ragarded the NCO coldy through his T-Visor. An apology? Yet another sign of weakness. The Mandalorian began now to give serious thought to cutting away this one's dead weight, though during this oiperation or after their return to the Darkest Knight he would have to decide.

"Sir, if the Corporal is right and there are tunnels. Can't the Darkest Night aid us by reconfigure its sensors to look for gaps between the top soil and bottom lays? Or even do a mirco sound burst---much like sonar---to see what is under the ground? It could aid us in knowing where these tunnels are at." Cain tilted his head to one side at that. It wasn't a half bad idea, but as it wasn't his own he didn't consider it for long. "We're going in a small group to avoid detection Sergeant, using an active sonar or sensor burst, even for a moment, might alert our foes to our continued presence here." He shook his head as he dismissed the Sergeant's idea. "Besides, we're here to find our missing men, not map potential tunnels." He looked back as the shuttle settled down and his small squad all went to a kneee at his silent order, facing outward towards the jungle with their backs to the shuttle as the remainder of the rescue force re-boarded. He wouldn't tell the Sergeant that if they couldn't find the two missing troopers then perhaps a survey of the tunnels would be in order, or that if it got that far Cain intended to pass off the idea as his own. Why burden the NCO with such thoughts when he might not be alive when the time came?

Fully loaded with the "rescue team" the shuttle lifted off behind them with a screeching roar, leaving the nine men alone now. Cain pointed out towards the jungle as he took the first step. "C'mon, let's go."

TAG: @Bravo

 

IC: Commodore Peter Englewood
Ambush of Presidential Convoy, Lepsawn Central (planet of Lepsawn 1-9)


"No...No."

"Well, that complicates things!" Englewood said as he ducked back down after firing off a handful of other shots.

"We had blaster rifles!" the UNMF trooper said from the other side of Natalia and across to Englewood.

Englewood stared at the presidential guard.

"Just saying," the trooper said with more sarcasm then was necessary.

The comms suddenly came alive shortly after the convoy ramming water tower vehicle then slammed into a building across the street from where Englewood's team was at.

"G'Spaugh to convoy team, is anyone out there?"

"G'Spaugh?! Harte here. Our vehicle is inside the lobby of one of the nearby buildings, don't know which one. Where are you, and what's your status?"

"Sir, I'm going to overload the electrical system in the buildings across the street. It might give you a moment or two to get across without being under fire." Her finger hovered, wavering a little, over the key to send a sizable amount of power through wires sending a jolt of electricity coursing through the soggy environment. "When you and the others are in position give the order and I'll do it."

Englewood nodded to her, then decided to jump in on the comm traffic quickly, "Englewood here! I have Markova here with me, plus the Queen and two additional UNMF Troopers. I can see Voss on our building's floor below us. Harte, we see your crashed vehicle---ah---your West of us across the street. We are down to blaster pistols with no effective range and are being targeted by enemy tangos in Harte's building. Harte, can your team retreat out of that building to cover? Markova has a plan to overload the electrical system in that building. Once tripped, it could buy your team time to get in there and take out those tangos. How copy?"


TAG @Sith-I-5 , @Mitth_Fisto , @galactic-vagabond422 , @The Vanguard

 

IC: Reen G'Spaugh
Ambush of Presidential Convoy, Lepsawn Central (planet of Lepsawn 1-9)

"G'Spaugh?! Harte here. Our vehicle is inside the lobby of one of the nearby buildings, don't know which one. Where are you, and what's your status?"

A flurry of blaster bolts sparked and rocked the overturned limo that was Reen's cover.

"Blasted scumbags!" she blurted out before returning fire during a break in enemy suppression.

Opening up the comms, Reen responded, "I'm engaged near the explosion site. Injured but not disabled. I got separated from the Queen's-" another volley of enemy fire lit up the overturned limo, interrupting her transmission.

Before she could continue, the frequency spurted out the familial voice of the Commodore, "Englewood here! I have Markova here with me, plus the Queen and two additional UNMF Troopers." Good, they're still alive. Reen sighed a short breath of relief, each inhale slightly stinging her left rib area.

Reen fired a few more shots on the construction workers who appeared to be slowly maneuvering to flank her and force her out of cover. Looks like I didn't need a red shirt to get extra attention from this rabble.

"-...we are down to blaster pistols with no effective range and are being targeted by enemy tangos in Harte's building. Harte, can your team retreat out of that building to cover?"

Another firefight eruption drowned out more segments of the Commodore's transmission until he finished, "How copy?"

Reen was forcing herself to piece the situation together amidst the chaos within and without.

"Harte, I'll lay down suppression to help get your squad out of there! Confirm!"

TAG: @Bravo @Sith-I-5 @galactic-vagabond422 @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Baille Harte, Alex Qipao, UNMF driver "15-Mary-3" (npc), Office Building lobby
Location: Lepsawn 1-9's capital


Baille had to listen to the comlink against the hard pitter-patter of water bouncing off her helmet, but luckily, the artificial brow above the macrobinocular viewplate, stoppped the fluid from running onto the eye lenses, and obscuring her vision.

The limousine shuddered and both far side doors swung open, almost as if the occupants had synchronised their exits, although ther UNMF man was the one she spotted first, his dark grey dome of his opaque-visored helm poking above the level of the limo roof as he came around the flanks to join her, stepping past the crawling Alex as he came around on his knees, kneeling back onto his haunches to look up at her, and she saw herself reflected in the visor.

She could see why the UNMF guy was a driver; he looked like two Torpedo Spheres had had a kid, one hand holding his stomach, one clutching his thick-barrelled slugthrower.
He was mostly covered in white foam, big splotches falling away as he moved, like he had reluctantly climbed from a suddy bath, at the insistence of a pressed doorbell.
A barely visible red-on-black namepatch on his uniform, identified him as a "C B I La'Roche."

"Was that Reen?" Alex enquired from his knees.

"Y-yes." Her teeth chattered from the chill of the deluge. Although her tight ryon dress was ostensibly waterproof, enough of her was exposed to get soaked anyway. "N-no idea where-"

"I'm engaged near the explosion site. Injured but not disabled. I got separated from the Queen's-"

The Commodore's voice chimed in as well, over the comlink channel. "Englewood here! I have Markova here with me, plus the Queen and two additional UNMF Troopers. I can see Voss on our building's floor below us. Harte, we see your crashed vehicle---ah---your West of us across the street."

"Awww!" Harte gushed to her companions, feeling a wash of positive emotion. "Th-that's the f-first time since we started this, that he has acknowledged something that I have said! P-perhaps he doesn't h-hate me after all."

"Or," Alex theorised, "he is in dire enough straits that he cannot ignore you any more."

"We are down to blaster pistols with no effective range and are being targeted by enemy tangos in Harte's building." Their leader continued.

"Yeah, that sound about right." He looked up into his wing-mate's crestfallen expression. "But I'm sure he likes you as well."

"Harte, can your team retreat out of that building to cover? Markova has a plan to overload the electrical system in that building. Once tripped, it could buy your team time to get in there and take out those tangos. How copy? "

She didn't want to say 'no' to such a senior officer, first beacuse Alex would get on her case, but also because it could be a career ender.

Baille pressed two fingers to her comlink to respond. "Uh, Sir, if you could hold fire on that electrical thing for a bit. We have civilians in the lobby with us, distressed, probably injured, definitely soaked. The sprinklers went off for some reason, and we've got water all over the place. If Markova does that overload, she'll electrocute everybody."

"Queen Natasha is the first priority." La'Roche reminded, only to be ignored by both Imperials.

Alex rose from his knees, looking around, and spotting a few of the crouching locals behind the various furniture, being spatters by a roof tank work of fire suppression water. "Is there a back way out of here?"

One of the females raised her water-slicked head and pointed to a doorway close to turbolifts. "That way. Fire exit out to the car park."

The Flight Lieutenant took charge, raising his voice. "Everybody, start making your way to the car park. All the shooters are at the front of the building. If anyone is hurt, please help them out." He pointed a finger at Harte, whilst beyond her, the Lepsawn workers rose from behind the reception desk and walked, aquaplaned or hobbled towards the exit, heads and shoulders scrunched against the deluge. "Whoof! Get them out into the car park, then call me once you are outside. Once you call, we'll take the limo back outside and go pick up Reen. Tell Englewood to hit the over-ride as soon as he sees us exit the building."

"Copy, Ice." She sidled out from behind the limo, pulling her hem down as she rounded the cracked reception desk to check for any stragglers, her comlink sounding with G'Spaugh's voice once again.

"Harte, I'll lay down suppression to help get your squad out of there! Confirm!"

"I'll take that!" Alex called. He used his PAC20 wrist comlink to respond to her. "Reen, just worry about yourself; stand by, we are coming for you. Commodore, Black Ice here. Markova can hit the electrical over-ride as soon as you see us drive out, over."

The UNMF man had already returned to the vehicle, the heavy limousine rocking with his entry.

Alex looked around at the now empty lobby. There was a possibility of other civilians elsewhere in the building, but that was tough. He could not leave Reen and the others unprotected as long as it would take to confirm the building was clear of innocents.

"Okay, we're out. No apparent hostiles." Baille's voice reported.

"Roger that. Stay on-site so that you can re-enter after Markova's shock therapy." He climbed back into the back of the limo, and rapped knuckles onto the glase partition to signal their driver. He jumped back onto the seats and grasped a length of seat webbing to anchor himself against any more wild manouverings.

The 8880 Limousine hummed into life, wheeled around to get a little space, a couple of orange armchairs spinning into walls, and followed the escaping water out through the shattered window and down the exterior steps, heading back along the driveway for the main road, it's back drifting out as it turned onto the roadway, drove past the rubble-rimmed crater, and stopped next to the upside-down limousine, blocking it from the laser fire that had been slamming into it, and now pummelled the right side of their own car.

Alex pushed open the left passenger door, hoping to see his former squadmate there.

Tag: @Bravo @The Vanguard @galactic-vagabond422 @Mitth_Fisto

 

BRAVO APPROVED

General
---Name: Callizto Syteen
---Species: Half-Falleen, Half-Rattataki
---Gender: Female
---Home World: Nar Shaddaa
---Age: 19
---Year of Birth: 21 BBY
---Year of Death: To be determined
---Political Cause Allegiance: The Empire
---Profession: Stormtrooper
---Job Title: DW-418119
---Rank: Private

Appearance
---Height: 5’3”
---Weight: 115lbs
---Eye Color: Silver
---Hair Color: Black, worn in a pixie cut side-shave
---Tattoos and Body Piercings: Upper lip permanently tattooed black, tattoos lining her eyes, a small ring piercing in her right nostril
---Other Attributes: Extremely pale green skin, almost a sickly white. Slightly pronounced brow, faint ability to use her Falleen pheromones (but are greatly weakened) [I see her being played by a younger Ryoko Hirosue]

Clothing, Equipment, & Weapons
---Professional Clothing: Standard issue stormtrooper fatigues
---Other Clothing: Violet vest with red sleeveless undershirt cut off at the stomach, baggy violet breeches, brown calf-length sandals
---Body Armor: Standard issue female stormtrooper armor
---Primary Weapon: A longblade
---Secondary Weapon: E-11 Blaster Rifle
---Martial Arts: Rattataki gladiatorial hand-to-hand

Personality
---Traits: Impulsive, says what is on her mind, tends to push herself away from others before they can do it to her
---Habits: Writes letters to her incarcerated parents every day, bites her bottom lip when thinking too hard
---Favorite Foods: Cojayav wings, lavender treebread
---Favorite Drinks: Corellian sap-wine, Bothan brandy
---Favorite Social Events: Has never attended any because she’s seen as “different”
---Social & Cultural Likes: Respecting others, fighting for a cause
---Social & Cultural Dislikes: Staring, rule without respect

Education & Skills
----Highest Education Level: Graduate of the Imperial Academy on Eriadu
---Specialized Education: Gymnastics
---Primary Professional Skill: Communication arrays
---Secondary Professional Skill: Speeder repair
---Life Experience Skills: Hand to hand combat, mild piloting experience, and mild hacking experience

The Force
---Jedi, Sith, or Other: None
---Force Sensitivity: None
---Force Abilities: None
---Lightsaber: None

Character Flaws / Limitations
---Physical Limitation: Temperature extremes. Although her suit likely regulates it for her, she becomes very sluggish in colder environments.
---Mental Limitation: She has problems following orders. Not that she deliberately disobeys them, but sometimes she follows her heart more than her head. Sometimes she forgets tactics and breaks formation in favor of a more gut feeling.
---Emotional Limitation: The fate of her parents. Should she ever find out what truly happened to them she would shut down. They are always on her mind and she writes to them daily.
---Character Critical Failure: Falling from a great height

Biography
---Early Life, Education, & Family: Born to a female Falleen smuggler and a male Rattataki refugee seeking passage off his homeworld, Callizto found herself growing up in the spacelanes aboard her mother’s ship the Lap of Luxury. During her first ten years of life, she learned simple hacking techniques and how to pilot from her mother Arista Draven and learned gladiatorial combat skills from her father, Banold Syteen. She was given her first tattoos at age eight and her last ones at age twelve shortly before the Lap ran afoul of an Imperial Cruiser. That same cruiser had accused Arista of smuggling weapons to Rebel Operatives and upon wanting to search the ship, Banold assaulted the Imperial Officer which resulted in a prompt beating and his incarceration.

A deal was brokered between the Officer and Arista that she would turn herself over to the Imperials in return for having both her husband and Callizto unharmed. The Imperial had no qualms letting Callizto remain free but Banold had to be punished for his actions. Both Arista and Banold were taken into custody and were sent to a prison colony where they were later executed for trying to orchestrate an escape. Callizto was forced into the Imperial Academy as she showed a spark that caught the attention of other Officers. The promises of seeing her parents again were enough to get her to cooperate.

---Professional Life: Joining the academy at age twelve was difficult but rewarding for her. Other students saw her as young and unable to handle the rigors of the training, but she showed them that it wasn’t always about physical might. Dexterous and nimble, she easily thwarted obstacle courses, athletic challenges involving flexibility, speed, and agility, and picked up an almost purposeful aptitude for handling electronics. This didn’t sit well with other students, but her marks of excellence caught the attention of one instructor, Ephraim Malteeg. Ephraim constantly pushed Callizto to challenge herself, although every challenge was met with repeated failure. What kept the Instructor so tied to her was the fact that while the failures were constant, the way in which she failed was not. Finding her ability to try angles not before seen by other cadets to answer a problem (albeit wrongly) was enough to grant her his commendation that she be moved along into more mentally tasking works that would involve quick thinking skills to troubleshoot.

She graduated at age eighteen and was given the opportunity to join Dark Battalion, where she found a foothold among other troopers as “Medusa” or the “girl with the stony stare”. The name stuck among other members of the First Squad, and while she didn’t much care for it, she grew to accept it as it was rare for a girl, let alone an alien girl, to be seen as a comrade among others.

---Traumatic Experiences: A sabotaged rope on an obstacle course during training caused her to develop a slight fear of heights as she fell and was knocked unconscious for two days.

 

IC: Surgeon-Commander Debgate, Medical Bay nearest Main Hangar, Deck 4?
Location: Star Destroyer Darkest Night


Debgate sat back in her chair in her office, adjacent to the main medical area, where the lighting had been turned down.

She rubbed her eyes through her eyelids, giving them a rest from the diffused glare of the repeater screen on her desk that curved around her chair.

She had prepared a report of the stormtroopers and Imperial Navy Troopers that had died, either instantly in the thermal detonator incident inside the Main Hangar, or from their injuries or complications during their treatment.

Her staff had worked hard to save and stablise the those men, and there were still five beds filled with patients, that she wanted to monitor overnight.

The Rebels that had been treated, had been forwarded to the Brig, under stormtrooper escort.

No doubt that young Gwen, or Senior Lieutenant Levric, as she no doubt would insist on being called for the time being, would be interrogating them now, so there was probably no point calling her to see if she wanted to meet up for that evening meal.

Plus Baille was off the ship on an unspecified operation, although her TIE Phantom was still here. And now the Surgeon-Commander smiled fondly, thinking about her feisty, unofficial niece.

Leaning forwards to her screen, the Chief Medical Officer read through her report, fixed a couple of typos, and sent it both the Bridge, and whichever entity acted as Stormtrooper Command aboard the ship. It would probably get forwarded to Dark Battalion, as the next step up from the Joker Platoon that the casualties and fatalities belonged to.

Debgate checked the medical feed for updates.

She raised an eyebrow upon reading that something had occurred with a monitoring station set up on a local moon.

Sounds like trouble. She thought, rising from her seat, then settling down again, upon noting that she was being prevented from doing anything about it - Commodore Englewood had ordered that no ship was to enter or leave the Darkest Night without his express permission.

Oh well, not worth worrying her pretty little head till had was lifted....though...

A part of her screen that cycled through various holocams on the ship, showed an unfamiliar vessel parked just inside the main hangar.

What's that about? She frowned to herself. The matter was not strictly within her purvue, or more accurately, it had absolutely drokk all to do with Medical.

On the other hand, the blonde Barbarian did not want another young being sharing the same fate as the machine operator that Chief Shinzon had had hauled off after the escape pod incident.

And she was supposed to be a senior officer aboard this ship.

"I better go check this out." She rose from her desk, running her palms down her black skirted uniform as she moved to the open doorway, where the light of her office ended, with the unlit sickbay beyond.

The few little lights along the walls, and at the sides of the beds, did little to illuminate the place.

"Gee, I am heading off shift." She said into the darkness, a pair of luminous green spots lighting up ahead and to the left, as a GH-7 medical droid turned it's flat head towards her, in turn shining a white spot, twice the diameter of a dinner plate onto the floor in front of her boots as the droid guided her pathway to the exit doors. "Let me know if anything untoward happens."

Very good, Doctor.

Debgate reached the doorway, hitting the illuminated controls set into the wall, the sliding barrier letting corridor light hit the head and shoulder pauldron of a shorter, armoured figure that had been standing on guard just inside the doorway.

She narrowed her gaze as she regarded the stormtrooper. Thanks to the helmet not being worn, she could see a sort of pixie cut of wavy black hair, with a single side of the head shorn down, and the face was an extremely pale green.

Deb imagined this would be how an albino goblin would look. Some of those lanky-armed things back home had been serious magic-users. She'd remembered being taken to the cleaners by a Goblin Spiritcaller more than once.

She lifted her right hand to point to the trooper. "Female, right?"

Tag: @Glimmer of Hope

​

Debgate goes to the aid of
an injured stormtrooper​

 

IC as Private Callizto Syteen
Star Destroyer Darkest Night, Medical Bay near Main Hangar

Need to know. If Callie didn't need to know it; she didn't. A thermal detonator had gone off in one of the pods and it did a considerable amount of damage. Casualties on both sides. The half-breed could only sigh and shake her head.

Upon being ordered to stay at her post, she fidgeted impatiently and tapped her foot. Who was hurt? Friends? Anyone of importance? They were all important to some degree, but "importance" meant two different things to different Imperials. Important meant that someone was of high enough rank and couldn't be immediately replaced... or it could also be that someone cared enough for them to be personally important.

Callie didn't have those connections here. That's why she had her datapad.

Haha,

I hope you are well. I haven't written in awhile since I was assigned to the Darkest Night, but don't worry! I'll be catching you up on all the things going on in my life soon enough.

I'm told that they've been taking good care of you and Appa in the Labor Camp. It won't be very long until we can all be together again. I know that the years will go by quicker than we think! We'll just keep our 'eyes to the stars', ne?

I miss you both terribly.

Callie
​

"Female, right?"

The trooper was snapped out of her daze as she finished tapping away at her 'pad, turning her bright silver eyes towards the Surgeon-Commander.

"Ma'am, yes Ma'am!" She snapped to attention, as it had been drilled into her, but dropped the letter she had been writing in the process. "Dwang!" Callie fumbled trying to catch it and broke the air of pomp around her salute and knelt down to inspect the 'pad for damage. She ran her gloved thumb over the screen and let out a sigh of relief before standing up again...

... and realized she was still before Commander Debgate.

"S-sorry about that, Ma'am. Won't happen again." The woman assured, hoping that being caught writing while on guard duty wouldn't land her in more trouble.

Without her helmet, the ridges of her brow could be seen furrowing and the faintest, sweetest smell permeated off of her skin. Involuntarily of course, though it would come to no real surprise had the Surgeon-Commander read any of the Xenobiology on the Falleen species to know that despite being half-blooded, Callizto still possessed that unique mark of her parentage.

The air around the two seemed to still a moment longer as the alien waited to see where the line of questioning would continue.​

TAG: @Sith-I-5