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

IC: Natalia Markova
Lepsawn Central

Natalia finished her song, it was a rather short piece, and it helped, helped bring order to her confused mind. She could still smell burnt flesh, and ozone, their scents lodged deep in her mind. Linked indelibly with the incident, associated with the moment her life, her mind changed. She had to leave it behind, needed to get back to her life. It would be lying to say it could go back to the way it was, go back to being normal, but, she knew she couldn't go on, constantly spiraling into thoughts that only got darker and darker.

She rubbed her bloodstained finger against her grungy shirt clearing off the still wet blood. The Navigator dove back into the datapad, looking up their route, finding the fastest way, looking out for more ambushes, still weary of them. Comms had seemed to be restored with Darkest Night but, the question was how were they blocked in the first place, and why had they not acted when contact with the ground team was lost.

It all felt wrong. The assassins weren't jamming all comms, her and her comrades could still communicate, they were just blocking Lesawn comms, that shouldn't have prevented the Star Destroyer from send support. Something in the comm chain was broken, someone didn't get the message. That was worrying, that spoke to either faulty equipment, or a traitor in the ranks.

Both possibilities were troubling but, the latter was the most terrifying. She shook her head, it wasn't her job to hunt down traitors, wasn't her job to check the comm system. Her job was to guide her ship. She would be aware, look for signs of traitorous activity, but, it wasn't her duty to hunt them down, unless she was asked by her commanding officer. Though it seemed the Commodore had a penchant for throwing people under his command into situations they were never prepared for, like her.

It was only a moment's thought before she returned to busying herself with looking over the route, trying to put what had happened behind her.

But, it was still there the sounds, were the most vivid to her, the sharp stabs of the blasters, the roar of the flames, and the snap of the breakers as they cracked, after electrifying the persons inside.

Maybe once she was back on the Darkest Night, things would get better.

They had to get better, they couldn't get much worse.

TAG: @Bravo @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Twi'lek Rebel Leader
Interrogation Room, Darkest Night


"The few stripes on my uniform, as you call them, are not why I serve," Colbea said, though this Rebel didn't need the truth of it. Honey and flies and vinegar and all that. "I know what battles were fought to save Ryloth and deliver your people from the Separatists. Yet you repay the lives of those troopers, the ones who saved your planet, your people, you, with disloyalty and disparagement."

A victim---like him. A story---like his. Two truths from different points of view.

"Still, it doesn't hurt to be civil," Colbea continued. "My mother always said it was best to be polite. I'm Sergeant Colbea, and my partner here is Ensign Braxhave. Now, that's one more name than you wanted, so I expect yours as well as something else in return. What's your end goal with Lespawn? Surely a backwater like this is of no real use to the Rebellion."

"You are correct, Sergeant Colbea," the Rebel Leader said, "It doesn't hurt to be civil. I am Brock," the alien chuckled just then as he looked up at the agent man, "What does the Rebellion want with this planet? Nothing. Other then we have found a way to use the lesser pawns of the criminal underworld to our own goals. Now, before we get to the part of you punching me and threatening me to an inch of my life for more information, can you spare a old Twi'lek a chance to relieve himself in a refresher? The last beating I took a few months ago, the poor Imperial didn't allow me those privalges and I made a mess on his floor. I'm assuming you don't want to clean up both blood and other bodily fluids?"


TAG @Laine_Snowtrekker

 

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

'One cannot bake a Nuna without a proper oven nor a good wrap.' and tonight had shown them to be without either. As far as an operation goes this one had been FUBAR'd from start to finish is rather spectacular fashion. Being in the limo with the queen had engendered a bit of a sly grin on his face as he leaned back in his seat. Everyone else could deal with what they had to, and unless the Commodore mentioned him he would enjoy this time to rest.

"So. A sorbet? What's a good local berry or fruit? A nice tart and sweet sorbet." he simply whispered as he checked the charge on his blaster and then the contents of his explosive satchel. "Hmm. Frozen of course." he continued as he replaced the clip on his weapon with a fresh one.

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

 

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

Careful where he placed his feet as to avoid unnecessary noise Cain slowly moved forward to Private Catalpa's position after she had motioned him forward. Pointing to her eyes with two fingers and then holding up three she pointed to the sentries she saw posted outside the cavern entrance at the bottom of the waterfall, silently communicating the reason for their sudden halt. The Mandalorian nodded his understanding and motioned her to fall back with him to where Corporal Alder had set himself up in a rearguard position. "OK, three of them, that means we all have to go in." The Naval Troopers couldn't see Cain's face, but they recognized the slight disappointment in his voice. He would have liked to have left at least one of them behind as backup in case things went south as they took out the sentries. Sending all three of them in gave them no room for error. He hoped the rest of the squad up on the top of the cliff face were watching closely and would intervene if need be. "We circle around behind them," he looked to Catalpa who would be leading them. "They seemed pretty lax, and mostly watching the trail and the falls, so use the jungle." He removed a stiletto from his boot. "Once in position we slot them quickly and quietly, if they raise an alarm the jig is up." The pair of naval troopers nodded to him nervously. This really wasn't what they had signed up for, no matter Cain thought, they would have to make do. "OK, let's move out."



nearly 15 minutes later

Private Catalpa had taken Cain's order to heart the Mandalorian noted as she slowly moved them through the jungle foliage and into a position to take out the sentries. Well better slow and unseen than quick and dead he thought to himself, knowing that a trio of true operators could handle the situation much more efficiently. Still, she had done her job and gotten them into position. Cain looked at the sentries again, wondering if they could simply sneak by them now, but dismissed the thought. Despite their demeanor one of them always had eyes on the cavern entrance. This was the only way. He looked again to his troopers, they both had blades of their own at the ready now. Cain pointed to each and indicated their assigned targets, there would be no second chances here, and no room for error or confusion. They all had to know just what they were going to do and when. from their position hidden in the jungle foliage Cain held up a hand with three fingers extended. Then lowered one finger, and then another and another until only his clenched left fist remained slight raised. Quickly he pulled it down and the troopers emerged form their cover and quickly converged on the unsuspecting sentries.

Cain moved swiftly, within two strides was within striking distance of his target, the suspected leader of the sentries. Quickly, before his target could even turn around in shock at the nearby sound behind him, the Mandalorian stabbed the man through the base of the skull with his stiletto, jabbing the pointed blade up into his brain stem with his right hand as his left arm moved in front of the man and held him by the chest. Almost immediately the man went limp, his central nervous system ceased to function and his heart and breathing stopped. Feeling the man's full weight against Cain's left arm the Mandalorian struggled, but succeeded, in laying the man down quietly on the hardened earth before removing his blade from the back of the man's skull. The blade itself was bloody, though without a pumping heart the small deep wound it caused merely oozed blood slowly rather than a causing a gushing mess. Still the Mandalorian wiped the blade on the dead man's shirt, cleaning it before replacing it in his boot. It had been a quick, clean kill, and bets of all it had been done quietly. Just as Cain would expect of himself. His troopers, they weren't nearly so efficient.

Catalpa had rushed her man, the smallest man in the group, and slashed him quickly, and deeply, across the throat. The man's eyes grew wide in pain and surprise as he reached up for the gaping hole in his throat even as he tried to shout out. The result was a loud gurgling as the air forced through his throat met the heavy flow of blood from his wounds which sprayed everywhere. Even Cain was splashed by it across his faceplate as he turned to see what was going on. Catalpa herself was drenched in blood as the man she had slashed finally fell to the ground dead, thrashing a bit before finally lying silent. "I said quietly..." Cain hissed under his breath at the private, hoping the sound of the waterfall would have covered the sounds of the sentries hard death. He shook his head, despite what passed as common knowledge, throat slashing was a loud and particularly inefficient way to murder another being. oh they usually died all right, but loudly, and not before making a damned mess of it.

Looking to Corporal Alder he saw that the trooper had slammed the butt stock of his carbine against the back of the mans's skull, targeting the same area that Cain had. When the man fell to the ground unconscious (with a loud thump Cain noted) Alder rolled him over and stabbed him through the eye with his own knife. It was bloodier and louder than Cain's own attack, but was a masterpiece of trades work compared to what Catalpa had accomplished. Still, it was done. Now to see if they had been noticed before heading down into whatever caves were behind that waterfall.

"Police up these bodies," Cain hissed as he took a knee and kept his own blaster rifle centered on the waterfall. "Nothing we can do about the blood spray everywhere, but hide the bodies in the undergrowth." He would cover them while they accomplished that brief task. If they weren't discovered by then, he would consider this part of the op a success and they could go about the next part of their mission. Penetrating the caverns themselves.

TAG: @Bravo

OOC: Figured the sentries were fair game. If not, just void the post and I'll figure something else out.

 

EDIT: Ops, already posted this earlier in March...

 

IC: Pawn
From Aft (Primary) Hanger Bay to Bad Love's Pilot Lounge , Darkest Night


It had worked.

So far.

Pawn waved a thank you to the pair of rank-and-file technicians of the Star Destroyer that lead them thus far and as the door closed to the pilot's lounge, the secretive Stormtrooper looked at his comrades. "You two flyboys stay here where pilots belong," Pawn said, keeping up the show; he knew any self-respecting Security Chief worth his salt would have trained his underlings to keep track of new arrivals, "If they come with orders, comm us. Us two," Pawn indicated his stormtrooper conspirer and himself with a index finger, "Are going to go find some garb. This baby sitting duty is a drag."

As Pawn waived his partner along and exited the lounge and into the corridor again, the criminal knew that every word they had just said was a complete lie and a complete truth at the same time. Every word had a meaning that Pawn had exchanged with his men. A meaning that meant a certain context when said in the circumstances. If they come with orders, comm us, simply meant to alert the pair of Stormtroopers to any trouble; Are going to go find some garb, meant to find their primary objective, while baby sitting duty is a drag meant to not get too comfortable with the mission.

For being low life criminals, Pawn would like to think "his crew and him" were a well oiled operation by now. They could act the part, do the part, and accomplish their objective with very little talking, knowing how the others would act in any given situation and keeping their own communication to a minimal, to lessen the threat of exposure by saying the wrong word or slipping information not warranted for public knowledge in their line of work.

The two criminal Stormtroopers knew where they were going, brining up the Star Destroyer's internal layout via their helmets' HUDs and walking with purpose and dedication, as if they had walked a thousand Star Destroyers before. They were silent, keeping up the extra mask of a pair of Stormtroopers on duty patrolling the mighty warship. Pawn knew the bulk of the Stormtrooper Legion was planet side, leaving the gallant Naval Guard the sentries of the warship. However, he also knew at least a platoon or company of White Hats were left aboard as standard ops, so while he had to tread lightly in his approach, he knew he wouldn't stick out like a poor thumb.

As they entered the Passenger Transfer Tube----the fastest way to span between the two hangers and get where they needed to go---Pawn had one final trick up his sleeve if the mess hall bit came through. He just had to hope that their mole on the bridge was keeping a close track of their every movement.


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

A dark corner, somewhere in the galaxy....


Tim watched as the new message came across. He smiled as he stuffed his face one more time with chips and took a gulp of his over-sugared soda, as he sat lazily in a over-stuffed office chair in black sweat pants and a food-stained white sweat shirt.. He sat in his dark room inside his one bedroom apartment, his computer screen the only light in his room. He was overweight, an outcast, and too smart for everyone to understand. He could had been a doctor, but he was too lazy, preferring the comfort of comics and socially & culturally significant blockbuster movies. He was a science fiction fan and fantasy book lover, as well as a huge gamer and magic card collector.

Everyone always made fun of his weight growing up. He was a flop with the women and everyone poked fun at him. But as the message's words reflected off of his smudged eye glasses, Tim knew that they were all wrong. Everyone was wrong. He had a purpose and could end each and everyone of those spineless bullies' lives with a few simple commands. Or at the very least make their life uncomfortable. But he enjoyed watching them, tracking them, being "big brother" in their world. He enjoyed knowing that, at any moment, he had the power to completely ruin or even end their lives. It was a sadistic pleasure, knowing one had the power of god over people's lives.

He, Tim, had the power of the Galactic Empire backing his every move. He was the Empire's eyes & ears. He got paid...well---for his services. He could retire now, if he so chose.

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?

Tim brought his greasy, crumb covered hands to his keyboard and began typing a response, clicking on the private message option to keep his answer private. Tim knew what was going on Lepsawn 1-9 before Lepsawn 1-9 knew what was going on. He knew the ins and the outs. He knew MI, ISB, and everyone else's fueds and dark ops all around the galaxy. It was his job to know the classified missions without being told of the classified missions.

They who you think are in the treehouse are not. And spilling the information will only hurt you, if spilled from the wrong people to you. It is best to use your own tools to find out who is really behind the voice calling down at you. But time is short. You must hurry. They are soon to be completed on the second light and the damage from the voice and the hidden history will be done.

Tim hoped the message got across. His "friend" was playing a dangerous game if she dug in the wrong direction.


TAG @Laine_Snowtrekker
OOG: PM me for details on typed message reply, if needed.

 

IC: Flight Lieutenant Baille Harte, office building
Location: Lepsawn 1-9 capital city


Baille Harte had made quick work of the first three floors, and was proceeding up the staircase to the fourth level.

She had discovered the bodies of nine members of staff, and three suspected terrorists, two shooters on the third floor, as identified by her wing-mate, slumped just inside open windows; and a third in the first floor canteen, pinned under the heavy vending machine that she figured the tatoo'd human had tried rocking to get a trapped treat. There was broken glase, and wrapped snacks sprinkled around him.

A couple of staff were dead with blaster wounds in their sides, in the hallway outside the open door, and scuff marks in the carpet on one side, which indicated to her that the civilians had made a game of leaping past the doorway before he could shoot them.

There were several burnt craters in the inside door frame, and the hallway wall opposite the door.

She surmised that the trapped gunman had tried to entice people to help him get free, and tried to shoot anybody who showed themselves. Then, of course he had been on the floor when the water had pooled round him, only to be electrified when the Window Salesman's Daughter had overloaded the electrical system.

The pilot carefully eased open the fire door, and peered left and right along the fourth floor corridor, then pulled it open enough for her to ease through, the fist holding her blaster, leading the way.

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

 

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

Oak listened to the Corporal at the waterfall as he gave his report of 3 dead sentries and noted furthermore that the Security Chief and company had entered the caves, so far undetected.

A small part of Oak had wished the sneak attack got altered, not because he wanted his comrades hurt. But, because he wanted Shinzon to feel the realization that he wasn't all powerful and knowing and controlling. That the Chief, like Oak, could fail. Pride came before the fall, Oak had heard said by many. And Shinzon's pride was no more evident then in his own abilities.

Alas, nothing came of it.

Putting his own selfish revenge away, Oak continued on his assignment, waiting, watching.....


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

Inside Caves


Time was drawing to a close, the mercenary noticed as he checked his watch, as the Duro started packing equipment away. In an array of several caves---most of which were dead ends---the Duro mercenary was with company of 3 other mercenaries, 2 humans and a Wookiee, as they stood cleaning up "base camp" in the lone tunnel that lead somewhere, down a underground river and straight to where the Abandoned Moon Facility was at. While the river itself kept on going out to sea, the facility had a docking area underground for the river. It was a easy way to escape and enter the facility relatively unnoticed. While old and forsaken---neglected and rock debris filled from a lack of maintenance---and the mercenaries & criminals working for Knowledge had cleared the way and brought the hidden river transportation route back to life.

"Come on!" the Duro spurted in broken Basic as he threw one of his cares into the waiting river boat, "We need to get back to the facility. Knowledge has reported everything going as planned and we need to be ready."

"Is it true?" asked one of the humans, "That this weapon can take down a whole Star Destroyer?"

The Duro chuckled, "Is it true? A course it is! But we just got one shot. We take their command & control ship out above this moon here and hopefully we'll push this Imperials out of here. One shot from that facility can crack a Star Destroyer in two with no effort and shields can't stop it."

"And if the Imperials don't leave?" the human asked.

How in the Force did this kid become a mercenary, the Duro wondered? With a sigh, the Duro said, "Look, we got paid. Its not my job to ask questions. Hurry and get going!"

The Wookiee asked a question and the Duro nodded, "Yeah, go get those three at the cave entrance. The caves block comlinks in here."

As the Wookiee started off, the Duro looked back to the men getting the supplies in the boat, "Work faster!"


TAG @Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Lester Knocks
Knocks Tower, Lepsawn 1-9


Lester tapped his fingers on his desk as he watched the overhead footage from the Prowler 1000 Seeker Droid, as the droid stealthy tracked the presidential convoy, keeping buildings and signs in between it and direct sight of the convoy.

The trap had failed. But, the presidential convoy was alone and weakened.

He looked to the other footage on the split screen, where another Prowler 1000 was capturing the footage of two heroes left behind.

He smiled. Revenge is a dish served best cold.

Knocks keyed his comm, "Is the LAAT/c in range yet?"

"En route, Mr. Knowledge. With LAAT Gunship escort. We have the air space being cleared by the Imperial Garrison. To stay off of the Garrison's sensors, they'll flying slow. Very, very low."

Ending the comm call, Knocks turned to the heroes and smiled. "As for you two," Knocks said, "I have something special planned."

Knocks watched as eight Hyperfoil 1000-XTCs from LKC Security Company showed up on scene. He watched as the 12 officers spread out, searching the ambush site. The last two Hyperfoils stayed behind with one officer each, the back passenger seats clear to take their "heroes" somewhere special. A course, the story was, these officers were sent in response by the Queen herself (being the closet units) to help secure the site for civilian safety.

TAG @Sith-I-5 (for LKC Security officers on site)


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


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


Englewood looked out behind his shoulder and through the back window when he heard that rumbling noise get louder and louder. Seeing people running for cover was the tip that gave him pause and caused him to look. The Imperial's eyes went big as he saw the LAAT Gunship flying low down the streets and in between the buildings, the craft's engines steering up debris, trash, and causing anything not anchored down to be blown around. Vehicle alarms went off. Just behind the LAAT Gunship, was a LAAT/c.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Englewood cursed under his breath.


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

 

IC: Flight Lieutenant Baille Harte, top floor, office building.
Location: Lepsawn Central, Lepsawn 1-9


Harte had encountered no hostiles or staff since the third floor, and now only had the roof to check, and arriving at the top of the ferrocrete steps, determined that the hinged metal door before her, had had its lock shot off, a blackened crater in the metal, with rivulets of molten material a little way down the vertical surface.

Holding her blaster up by her face, the fingers of her left hand eased between the door jamb, and the door itself, to begin easing it open, so that it did not squeal too much as she opened it.

Wind gusted as she opened it further, and stepped out, the chill air exacerbating the cold caused by her dousing earlier.

A raspy, high-pitched voice carried over the wind from her left: "No, not that one; the next road over to your right. behind those buildings. Yes, there."

It's wings flapping rapidly, the podgy form of a Toydarian hovered above the parapet facing, if her directional sense was correct, the ambush zone.

Cautiously creeping across the gravel-layered rooftop, she approached the being from behind it and to the left, and could see that it had a pair of macro-binoculars in its three-fingered left hand, though rather tiny ones, more reminiscent of the smaller things that opera audiences had to use.

"What're we looking at?" She enquired politely, a metre short of the thing, already pointing her E-11 at it.

"Choy? (What?)" The alien spun to face her, feral yellow-green eyes darting nervously around, then focusing on her, switching from gutteral Huttese to Basic. "A little out of you're jurisdiction, aren't you? Isn't there a bank heist you should be stopping?"

"What?" Baille glanced down at her STANG vest. "Oh, the uniform." She got her attention back on the alien. "Who're you working for?"

The creature blinked, backing up slowly, which started to take it over the unsafe side of the white-painted buttress. "He'll...he'll kill me if I tell you?"

"I'll kill you if you don't." She retorted, then continued with a more conciliatory, "But play ball, and we can protect you."

Furry eyebrows lowered over its eyes. "Beeogola Nechaska! (Stupid little princess!), you couldn't even protect bu Kwee-Kunee (the Queen)!" The wings stopped and tucked into the fat, limmie ball-sized body, and the thing dropped out of sight, Baille rushing forward to peer over the balustrade, looking down the side of the building to see the creature tumbling wildly as it tried to re-deploy its wings.

Bringing her head up to check out what the spotter had been looking at, her gaze swept across the neatly manicured lawn, over the couple hundred metres to the ambush zone on the main road, which was now milling with armed, blue-uniformed people, who looked to have deployed from about several unfamiliar grey hover pods. She counted about eight of the canopied vehicles.

The fact that no-one was shooting at them, raised her suspicions about them, immediately.

The view-plate of her scout trooper helm generated another large red circle, which shrank rapidly as it focussed on its target, heading for the extreme upper-right of her field of view, creating incomplete crosshairs as it pressed around something, only the downward-pointing spoke, and bottom half of the targeting reticule visible till she deliberately raised her gaze to see: old style Low Altitude Assault Transports - larties - hovering above and beyond that row of buildings where the Commodore and the Queen had been pinned down, and...gone out the back of.

There was a carrier-type, and gunship. And her helmet's macro-binocular view-plate managed to pick out an abbreviated convoy of the remaining 8880 Limousines speeding to the left, several hundred metres ahead of the pair, beyond those same buildings.

"But we don't have any larties." She noted aloud, probably not since Alex' and Reen's Operation Immediate U-Turn. Which means- Harte tapped her comlink. "Convoy Team from Whoof! You've got company. Two enemy larties on your six!"

Tag: @Bravo @Mitth_Fisto @galactic-vagabond422

Notes: The Toydarian's Huttese was from Wookieepedia.

 

IC: Aricor Colbea and Jaycas Braxhave
Interrogation Room, Darkest Night

"You are correct, Sergeant Colbea," the Rebel Leader said. "It doesn't hurt to be civil. I am Brock."

Brock. Well, at least this was a start. Colbea could hear Braxhave tapping out a message to Levric. But the Lieutenant wouldn't be pleased with just this fellow's name. What good Imperial would be? How many beings across the Galaxy were named Brock?

Brock then laughed softly. "What does the Rebellion want with this planet? Nothing. Other than we have found a way to use the lesser pawns of the criminal underworld to our own goals. Now, before we get to the part of you punching me and threatening me to an inch of my life for more information, can you spare a old Twi'lek a chance to relieve himself in a refresher? The last beating I took a few months ago, the poor Imperial didn't allow me those privileges and I made a mess on his floor. I'm assuming you don't want to clean up both blood and other bodily fluids?"

Braxhave made a step toward the prisoner, but Colbea held up a hand to stop him. "Compassion is a wonderful virtue," Colbea said. "And in most situations it's a virtue that should be encouraged. Frankly, if I were in your situation, I'd want to use the 'fresher also. But I've seen too many action holos and been in enough interrogations to let you do that, Brock."

Colbea leaned back in his chair. It would be overkill to inform Brock that Aricor wasn't assigned to clean the interrogation rooms after interrogations. At least, not this far along in his career. Braxhave, now, might, but he knew it was the dues one paid in the messy line of work they were in. "The troopers already seem to have taken themselves to town on your face; I have no need to add to your bruises if we keep this conversation a dialogue," Colbea said. "Besides, the faster you share information, the sooner we can get you to a 'fresher. Now, the Golan II. What can you add to what we know about it?"

TAG: @Bravo

 

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

Everything seemed to have smoothed out for a minute, which should of been a warning in itself, but Jingle knew these things happened in the field of war. One minute gun running battle for your life, the next riding in an opulent limo cade back to a palace as if the galaxy was coated in glitterstim. Only problem was, no matter how dark and empty the galaxy might feel, there was light, and that glitterstim would burn.

He was starting to wonder if that might not happen until the next mission when their fearless leader turned and noted something out the back window of the limo. Twisting to take a look Jingle let out a low whistle, "So. Probably not a small cell incursion?" Looking back at the other members of the limo he noted their lack of any missiles between them. Well, he had bombs, but no delivery method.

"Awaiting orders." He simply chimed up. The age old way of gently nudging a commander that direction was now needed.

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

 

IC: LKC Security Company Uniformed Officers
Ambush Site


The grizzly old Sergeant put a five o'clock shadowed face to his mic secured up against his shoulder, "LKC Blue One to Control."

"Control, go ahead Blue One," came back a female voice over the mic.

"Alpha Response Team on site. Searching for survivors."

"Control copies, Blue One. On site, searching for survivors. Be advised, additional law enforcement units are securing exterior escape routes for criminal activity and assessing threat to civilians. Emergency medical response should arrive shortly."

"Blue One copies."

"Control clear."

The sergeant smiled as he lowered his hand from the mic and looked around, signaling his officers forward. Control had given them the needed time to get in and get out. Looking back to one of the officers staying with a parked speeder, addressed them to get on the loud speaker, then he looked at everyone else and waved them forward.

One Hyperfoil 1000-XTC drove slowly ahead with emergency lights flashing (one driver). Behind that, seven officers spanned out across the road and checked inside the buildings, while another Hyperfoil 1000-XTC (one driver) brought up the rear with emergency lights flashing. Staying back behind the 9 officer advance was a lone parked Hyperfoil 1000-XTC (emergency lights flashing) with a officer standing outside the cab on a loud speaker. Again and again, he repeated his same words, "This is the LKC Security Company. We are here to help. This is the LKC Security Company. We are here to help. We are looking for survivors and wounded." Back behind all that were two additional Hyperfoil 1000-XTCs with one officer each standing outside and the rest of the 3 unused Hyperfoil 1000-XTCs parked behind that.

Slowly, people who were hiding from the blaster fight or those wounded started coming out of debris-crumbled buildings. One by one, the security officers directed them to the rear by the parked Hyperfoil 1000-XTCs and two officers for soon-to-be-arriving emergency medical care vehicles. As they directed each civilian, they also held up holo photos of the two "heroes" and were seeing if anyone had seen them. Once found, the heroes would need an appropriate "escort" to be thanks personally by the Queen.


TAG @Sith-I-5



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


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


"You have got to be kidding me!" Englewood cursed under his breath.

Twisting to take a look Jingle let out a low whistle, "So. Probably not a small cell incursion?"

"Convoy Team from Whoof! You've got company. Two enemy larties on your six!"

Peter activated his comm, "Copy Whoof. We see them. Protocol Red Smoke. Protocol Red Smoke."

Protocol Red Smoke was the generally accepted Imperial term for any Imperial unit facing certain annihilation to do all that was possible to reach another Imperial unit or base for safety in terms that unit cohesion was forgotten and the Imperial unit's personnel were left on their own to save their own skin by any means possible. It was better for a few to survive and get actual battlefield intelligence to Imperial commanders then for all to die and no enemy intelligence to be gathered.

Englewood turned to Dax, "Get us to the Imperial garrison, Master Sergeant!"

"Awaiting orders." He (Jingle) simply chimed up. The age old way of gently nudging a commander that direction was now needed.

It was tempting to end it all here, Dax thought, just end it. He could complete his mission now, run away from the vehicle as it was blown to pieces by the Gunships. But no, not yet. He still needed to play the part for now. "Copy, sir. Diverting course to Imperial Garrison!" Yanking on the controls, Dax turned the vehicle into a battering ram as he plowed through a local plaza to his left, forcing the gunships to fly above the buildings to adjust course and reacquire them. Honking on the horn and waving people away as he blew through plazas and parks, Dax kept the vehicle however much he could off of the main roads and to tighter areas, where the gunships would not having a harder time acquiring a clear shot, but also causing the airspace around them to be much more hazardous with buildings and tighter corners to navigate.

Peter grabbed his blaster pistol and looked at Jingle as he lowered the passenger window, "Hope for a lucky shot! You cover right, I'll cover left."

Englewood leaned out the side passenger door and started scanning the sky, seeing the gunship above as it's view was interrupted now-and-again by buildings, trees, traffic lights, and all manners of objects Dax used to avoid the Gunship's direct path of sight.


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


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


IC: Twi'lek Rebel Leader
Interrogation Room, Darkest Night


Braxhave made a step toward the prisoner, but Colbea held up a hand to stop him. "Compassion is a wonderful virtue," Colbea said. "And in most situations it's a virtue that should be encouraged. Frankly, if I were in your situation, I'd want to use the 'fresher also. But I've seen too many action holos and been in enough interrogations to let you do that, Brock."

Brock smiled, "Suit yourself. I do have to warn you though, it'd be rather embarrassing for me to do my business in front of ya all here."

Colbea leaned back in his chair. It would be overkill to inform Brock that Aricor wasn't assigned to clean the interrogation rooms after interrogations. At least, not this far along in his career. Braxhave, now, might, but he knew it was the dues one paid in the messy line of work they were in. "The troopers already seem to have taken themselves to town on your face; I have no need to add to your bruises if we keep this conversation a dialogue," Colbea said. "Besides, the faster you share information, the sooner we can get you to a 'fresher. Now, the Golan II. What can you add to what we know about it?"

"The Golan Two? Its big. Has lots of weaponry. And if I was a betting alien, I'd say probably the command and control for all this show."

Now, Brock reasoned, the game began. He told them what he knew---and what they knew---but not what he really thought and not what they really thought that he knew. But he did answer the question.

"Can I use the refresher now?"


TAG @Laine_Snowtrekker
OOG: Laine, I'll get a PM reply to you ASAP for the other post.

 

IC: Natalia Markova
Lepsawn Central

Natalia's blood ran cold as the Commodore exclaimed. She turned slowly seeing the gunship come closer and closer. Her head shook almost unconsciously, this couldn't be happening, they had dealt with the enemy, have defeated them...why...why did they keep coming. Would this ever end, was there anywhere to hide?

"Protocol Red Smoke." Her commander called out, "Protocol Red Smoke."

This snapped her out, yes protocols, contingencies, the Empire prepared for these things, all they needed to do was follow them and everything would be fine. She took a few quick breaths turning back to the datapad, her hands flew over the keys pulling up map after map. She figured out the closest imperial garrison and started charting the fastest course. No that wouldn't work they needed cover, if they were to reach their destination they needed protection from the skies. She pulled up an image taken by the Darkest Night some time ago it was current enough for her purposes.

Over laying their location and a street map she started to feel more in control...more like herself. If it was adrenaline or her actually becoming used to combat was another thing.

Deep down she just wanted to survive and follow protocol.

"Turn right up ahead." she called out, sounding more like a harsh whisper than a shout, to the driver. Her mind was already three turns ahead, this was just like navigating a battlefield, just like she was trained. Except and much higher speeds and without the benefit of shields and turbolasters to defend themselves with. The discharges of blasters out the door made her change her assessment.

They at least had blasters, still not shields though, they would have to rely on the terrain and architecture to do that for them.

"Now keep going straight, and at the next roundabout take the first exit." she had shifted closer to the Driver, making it easier to hear her over the sounds of battle.

TAG: @Bravo @Mitth_Fisto @The Vanguard

 

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

Even as he waited for an answer he got one that gave him puase. The CO of there little group had activated his comm and relayed a simple message to the fact that they were being chased, "Copy Whoof. We see them. Protocol Red Smoke. Protocol Red Smoke."

Protocol Red Smoke was the generally accepted Imperial term for any Imperial unit facing certain annihilation to do all that was possible to reach another Imperial unit or base for safety in terms that unit cohesion was forgotten and the Imperial unit's personnel were left on their own to save their own skin by any means possible. It was better for a few to survive and get actual battlefield intelligence to Imperial commanders then for all to die and no enemy intelligence to be gathered.

Now this was a point that made Jingle debate whether that meant he should ditch if the limo went slow enough and begin to find his own path back to base? The only thing that gave him true pause was the Commodore and the Queen. Two of high enough rank that they practically begged for others to die to make sure that they lived. Stinking strill of it all!

Englewood turned to Dax, "Get us to the Imperial garrison, Master Sergeant!"

"Copy, sir. Diverting course to Imperial Garrison!" Yanking on the controls, Dax turned the vehicle into a battering ram as he plowed through a local plaza to his left, forcing the gunships to fly above the buildings to adjust course and reacquire them. The man was driving like a madman, good man.

Peter grabbed his blaster pistol and looked at Jingle as he lowered the passenger window, "Hope for a lucky shot! You cover right, I'll cover left."

Englewood leaned out the side passenger door and began to take potshots. Pushing a button Jingle nodded as he saw their shocked and awed Nav officer finally find something to focus on that seemed to get her into motion. Leaning out his side he began to emulate the Commodore. Taking shots of opportunity as they came. Although he also was constantly looking back over his shoulder to see if their crazy driver would make it necessary to duck back into the limo at a moments notice to avoid being smeared on some narrow wall or barricade that the driver decided to go through instead of around. This left him shooting one handed, as his other kept a firm grip on the small handle inside the door and his feet did their best to stretch out and grip the seat to anchor himself.

"Now, this is a fine way to get some fresh air sir!" he cried out into the night as he let fly a few more shots as the airship peeked back into view. Now this was a fight he could get into! He actually found himself laughing at the momentary situation where only they had clear shots and still constant peril. It was fantastic!

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

 

IC: UNMF driver "15-Mary-3", Alex Qipao19, Reen G'Spaugh
Location: Lepsawn capital city, Lepsawn1-9


"Convoy Team from Whoof! You've got company. Two enemy larties on your six!"

Alex strained against his seatbelt to look out the back window.

"Copy Whoof. We see them. Protocol Red Smoke. Protocol Red Smoke."

"Copy that."

The calls from Baille and Englewood sounded over Reen's and Alex' comlinks, heard by everyone in the escort limousine, just before the one ahead of them peeled out to the right, the larties veering off in pursuit and disappearing over the rooftops, the aircraft's downward-facing repulsors pressing momentarily down on them.

"What the hell is Protocol Red Smoke?" Their driver demanded over his shoulder as he took them into a drastic handbrake turn in an attempt to nose them into the small lane that the lead speeder had taken, without wrecking them.

"You got slices of red bread and a sandwich toaster?" The navigation officer asked from the floor, just before she skidded on her backside across it.

"No."

"Then don't worry about it then, doesn't apply."

"Oh, Reen." Alex smiled indulgently, leaning down to ruffle her head again, "you've become a funny fragger since your player had to bow out."

"Huh?"

"Never mind." Alex allowed his seat restraints to pull him back up to his perch, and looked up past the driver for some sign of those enemy airships. "Red Smoke is the order for Imperial personnel to break from the mission and return to the nearewst Imperial base, ship, or force."

"Well that ain't going to happen, as this is my vehicle, and protecting the Queen is my first priority."

"Precisely." Alex confirmed with a serious expression. "Bready humour aside, Reen was correct. Red Smoke does not apply to us."

"Still though," G'Spaugh shakily brought her knees up under her, and allowed her former wing-mate to pull her up beside him, "there is not much we can do against even one of those; what are we going to do?" She looked out the nearest window at the parked vehicles blurring past them as they pursued the Queen and Englewood.

"Seriously?" the driver's exclamation was in such a high tone, that both Imperials looked past him to see what had excited him so much, noting that a pair of removal men had chosen that moment to take a huge pane of glass across the road in front of them!

Alex brought his prognostication (ability to read the future) skills to the fore: "Oh, this is not going to go well."

Tag: no-one

---

IC: Baille Harte, rooftop of office building
Location: Lepsawn capital city, Lepsawn1-9


Harte heard the same order about Red Smoke, readily acknowledging, "Copy that."

She turned from the parapet, and ran across the gravelled roof towards the door that would lead inside, grateful to get out of the chill wind that had been battering her damp form outside. She pulled the metal door closed after her, and set off down the stairs, with one hand on the railings so that she did not fall.

She was intimately familiar with the 'return to base' code word, however she would normally have been in her TIE variant starfighter, or other spacecraft, when receiving that order.

Here she was on foot, and the nearest applicable destinatin would be the local Imperial Garrison, and she only knew that that existed, was because Queen Whatsit the Bold had blurted it out whilst tossing her dollies out of the pram over the additional Imperial forces, them, arriving in her precious city.

Harte had no idea where this garrison was!

Baille jumped off the steps and bent her knees as her boots hit the landing, then started hurrying down the next set of steps.

Tag: @Bravo

 

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

Brimming with confidence following the ease with which the enemy sentries had been dispatched, Cain led the trio into the caves where soon enough that self assurance was transformed into frustration. It wasn't a simple cavern they had entered, but rather a meandering complex of caves and passages, many of which ended in dead ends. Fortunately he had activated the tracking/mapping systems ensconced within his buy'ce (helmet) so they hadn't gotten lost, but his irritation grew with each dead end they came to. Not only was it time lost, but the longer they bumbled about in these caves, the greater chance they would be discovered, and if they were discovered it would be all too easy to cut them off and then chop them to pieces within the cavern. Their only hope then would be a quick response from the support team he had left outside.

A shout from down the tunnel they found themselves in now caused him to freeze, noting with a bit oif grim satisfaction that his pair of Naval Troopers froze with him. They were on the right track now, that much was certain. That was a humanoid, but not quite human, voice, though he couldn't discern what was being said. With a forward wave of his hand he motioned his troopers forward even as he apmlified the gain on his bucket's audatory system. With luck he could catch what these arruetiise were saying as their words echoed down the cavern.

"...take down a whole Star Destroyer?" That voice sounded more human than the yell that had come before it. An almost human laugh followed along with an answer to the partial question Cain had heard

"Is it true? A course it is! But we just got one shot. We take their command & control ship out above this moon here and hopefully we'll push this Imperials out of here." Cain grinned behind his faceplate as he gathered information on the enemy strategy for defending the system. That would be worthy of some accolades from his chain of command, and go a long way to his next promotion he was sure. What he heard next though froze that grin into something more resembling a scowl.

"One shot from that facility can crack a Star Destroyer in two with no effort and shields can't stop it." Some sort of super weapon? That he had to report to the Darkest Night, immediately, the security of his own position be damned. He brought a hand up to the side of his helmet and tried to open a commline to the ship, but got nothing but static. These caves must be blocking the signal! Shab, should have thought of that he swore to himself. They would have to either move out of the caves to report in. The question was, do that now to save time and forget about capturing the mercenary for interrogation (while also abandoning hope of rescuing their missing troopers) or stick around to gather more information and stay on mission for the snatch and grab of the mercenary leader. Cain mulled it over when the decision was made for him.

"Yeah, go get those three at the cave entrance. The caves block comlinks in here." No osik was Cain's first thought as the voice mentioned the blocked comsignal. It was then that he realized what the voice was saying in answer to the question barked out by a wookiee. He began to bring up his carbine even as he swiped his hand back across his helmet to turn down the audio gain. He started to whisper out an order to his troopers but didn't have time before the lumbering wookiee came around a turn in the cavern and into view. It saw them at the same moment and roared out in surprise, and what Cain could only imagine (he didn't understand shyriiwook as some of the more barbaric mando'ade did) was in warning to its comrades down deeper in the cave.

The Mandalorian immediately loosed a pair of yellow blaster bolts from his carbine, past the frozen form of Private Catalpa into the hairy being's chest. At this range he could hardly miss, but the creature kept coming. "shabla beast," Cain grunted and he pressed the trigger again, but not before the wookiee slammed into Catalpa and with a loud roar that echoed through the cave literally ripped her arm from her shoulder. The female trooper screamed in pain as Can fired again, and again into the wookiee, screaming now to Corporal Alder. "Fall back, fall back to the rally point!"

TAG: @Bravo

 

IC: Surgeon-Commander Debgate, outside Main Hangar, Darkest Night
Location: TBC


Debgate figured she must have underestimated what stormtroopers could do under their helmets without anyone knowing, as her and Callizto Syteen's entry into the main hangar, got waylaid by another stormtrooper turning up, and essentially replacing the pixie-haired girl at the blonde Barabarian's side, whilst the first girl had it away on her heels.

As Syteen disappeared towards her barracks, Debgate watched her go, then looked down at the replacement.

"So what's your name then?"

"Name? Du'ra Cell, Ma'am. DUR-2207."

"Du'ra Cell, eh? Normally assigned to the turbolaser batteries, right?"

"Yes! How did you know?"

"Lucky guess. Alright, let's go." Turning back to the open blast doors, and strode through with her hands clasped behind her back, heading across the deck towards the parked Corellian YT-1760 freighter, with the familiar cockpit set between two forward prongs arrangement. This long in space service, you got to know a lot of ships.

Elsewhere, droids were still sanding down the repairs to the thermal detonator deck breach.

"Deck Officer!" She called out.

Tag: @Bravo

 

OOG: So, apparently, I was planning on using this character in a different post----and I could have swore I had posted it a while back---but I just went through the whole game and nothing. Well, turns out, that was a good thing. Here we go!

As a side note, DRL is giving my wife & I a run for our money these last few months. We're trying to stay ahead of it all, but as you can tell, its taken a tole on any personal time outside of work we have. Trust me, trust me, trust me---Paradoxical Echoes is always on my mind and when I can (like today, when we had a sudden last minute change for an appointment), I am here online posting.

I miss you all and if you all could, please keep my wife & I in your prayers. The faster we get through this spell of DRL since Fall of last year, the sooner I can return to the game here in a much more active role.


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


IC: Lord Alic Tarfa
Undisclosed Secret Safe House for Military Intelligence, Outer Rim Territories


The screen flickered with various automated functions in the darkened room, as the clicks and beeps of other machines---mostly HoloNet servers and other communication equipment---worked tirelessly around the clock along the back wall of the hardened blast shell room. The line of machines and equipment, 5 shelves high and enclosed in key pad locked blaster proof transparisteel cases, had their own little lights---green, yellow, red---to indicate what status and processes they were working on. Before the line of machines was a cozy sitting area with soft chairs, couches, and several tables. The largest table held a undercarriage arrangement that housed a decently-sized refrigerator for refreshments and snacks. To the right (looking from the machine shelves) was a single door leading to a refresher and shower; to the right of that refresher was another door leading to a bedroom, where four beds were arranged. Opposite of the machine shelves themselves and on the furthest side of the room were four desks facing the wall, each housing a top-of-the-line computer console, a comfortable chair, and a small trash can. No windows were along any of the walls or the two other rooms; lightening was kept at a minimal with recessed ceiling lights on a dim glow. A single entry & exit blast door was opposite the refresher & bedroom doors on the other side of the room.

The screen's lightening glow cast a glow on the dark proceedings that had just happened. Lord Tarfa gently lit down the intelligence officer's head as he removed the bloodied boot knife from his throat and wiped it clean on the man's clothing before returning it to his boot. He signaled for one of the two OGB Field Agents in the safe house with him to remove the chair and dead body.

Everything was done in silence, as like any good Spy Chief, Alic knew there were listening devices in the room recording everything. Hand signals and body language communicated everything in place of verbal communication.

Bending over to look at the last read message, Alic read the code-heavy language that he instantly caught up on.

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?

He looked to the other OGB Agent that had emerged from the side bedroom, where he had most likely killed one of the sleeping Imperial technicians, being the killed total up to 4 Imperial personnel (three in the intelligence room, one sleeping). The Spy Chief gave a wave with a pen light and the agent nodded, proceeding to manually unlock the glass protective barrier around the machine HoloNet servers and communication equipment and download the information they had come for. The other agent (who had moved the chair and dead man) was guarding the door now.

Turning back to the screen at hand, Alic typed in a response. The mission brief was very detailed and their mission very specific. This just happen to be icing on the cake, having live communication with a mission objective. Alic inserted an encrypted drive stick and downloaded everything from the computer, which then at the same time traced the signal from the Message Board. A course, it went to a Public Account with no trace to its real live point of communication. Any good Spy worth their salt knew that trick in the book. What most didn't know was that, although everyone in technology mostly knew your tracks could always be traced through the HoloNet, no one really knew how to out-smart a Spy who was covering their tracks. But like walking through snow, tracks were always left somewhere, somehow, and now Alic would start to trace this information best he could to find the source.

For now, however, he left a message in return to the unknown person of contact:

There's always someone bigger then the Big Kids: the Adults. The Adults crashed the Party. Trek carefully, for the answers you seek will lead to Unexpected Places & Damage. I will contact you again. Watch for a message. Be ready.

There, just enough information to get his contact looking. Most importantly, whoever was on that other end would know that it was no longer an Imperial ally communicating with them. Worse, if they rang the alarm to such information, they could be put under intense investigation as to why they was operating outside of accepted Imperial Intelligence protocols. And lastly, now Alic had them in his game, because his little device beeped done and then wiped the entire computer drive. He now had every little grain of information and communication from this console and most importantly, to him now, the access---at least through a public HoloNet Board---to his unknown Imperial contact.

Turning back to his two others in the party, he looked to see that the other field agent was done downloading the main chunk of data as well and signaled he was ready. Sharing a look between the two, Alic signaled towards the door and as he left, he tossed a fuel-based spray grenade into the room, which sprayed a gasoline-based liquid as a thick heavy mist all over the room.

Taking his pipe from his jacket, he lit the pipe and after taking a short drag, flipped the still burning match into the room. Instantly, he watched as the room lit up in flames. Standing there for a few more moments, he watched as the fuel-enhanced fire spread quickly throughout the darkened room.

It had already been arranged that fire response would be delayed considerably due to a communications outage at the dispatch center. Following his two OGB Agents, Alic soon found himself outside the Asian-themed restaurant---where the Imperial safe house was on the top level---and in the back ally way. Knowing that any security cameras would be able to track a rented vehicle, Alic knew him and his team had to trek it to their escape vehicle.


TAG @Laine_Snowtrekker for the HoloNet Message only; no other NPC or PC tags


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

OOG:

Sorry for the delayed response (& shortened post response), family stuff came up. I added quite a bit to the Library Wiki today as I'm (hopefully) be able to have more time to be online and starting to transition us to the next part of the game. For those of you who played in any of the Intervention games, you'll notice familiarity with most of these entries. As a reminder, this game happens BEFORE Intervention, so the fact that these characters from the Kingdom of Jod would be in this game makes perfect sense.

Here they are:

• HRI Deep Cover Agent (today)
• HRI Field Agents Group (today)
• HRI Home Guard Branch (today)
• HRI Outside Galaxy Branch (today)
• King I-class Battleship (today)
• Outside Galaxy (today)
• Royal Command (today)

 

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

"The Golan Two? It's big. Has lots of weaponry. And if I was a betting alien, I'd say probably the command and control for all this show. Can I use the refresher now?"

Colbea fixed his gaze on the Twi'lek, whose answer had been intriguingly vague. 'All this show' could mean that the Rebels weren't in charge of the Golan II. It might even mean that the Rebels believed that it was held by the Empire, which Colbea knew they decidedly did not. Well, as far as he knew anyway. It was above his pay grade and more than his career and life were worth to pry into things that didn't concern him. He needed to pick his next words carefully.

"I'd say it's pretty long odds at the moment that you get what you want," Colbea said. "Believe me, I'd love to have the guards come in and escort you to the 'fresher, but..." He lowered his voice in a conspiratorial manner. "But I've got this boss who absolutely would dock my pay if I let you out of here with something as vague as 'probably the command and control for all this show'."

"She totally would," Braxhave chimed in from his post in the room's corner. "Probably put you on the night shift, too."

"I hate the night shift, Brock," Colbea said, becoming as crestfallen as possible. "And you seem an intelligent being, regardless of your status as a traitor to the Empire. So, tell me, what do you truly think about the Golan II? Do you see it as an ideal command center? Or do you see it as a prize to be won from us? Something else? Give me something I can go back to my boss with, and I'll have the guards take you to the refresher."

There. He hadn't said they didn't hold it, he hadn't outright claimed that the Rebels held it, and he'd pulled the classic 'blame Levric' move, which was typically sanctioned by the Lieutenant as something that would foster mutual understanding between the interrogator and the interrogee.

TAG: @Bravo

 

IC: Deck Officer Richard "Dick" James
Darkest Night


"Deck Officer!" She called out.

His blood boiled at that familiar sound. Oh the Force how he hated her with every pound of his being. And he meant every pound. The good "Doc" had said he was overweight, pre-diabetic, and had a questionable diet (alcohol, bacon, and steak was a good diet, right?). She dared to call him unfit for duty. Well, he had to teach the good Surgeon-Commander a thing or two about her place in the grand scheme of things. She was here to pass him for his physical. He complained up the chain of command to the good ole Duke himself. Apparently, the Captain had explained a thing or two to the Surgeon-Commander regarding seniority, experience, and skill. And those three things Richard "Dick" James had in plentiful supply. After all, he had been with the Darkest Night since her launch in 19 BBY. Then, a green belt rookie with water still behind his ears. But now?

"Deck Officer!"

Now? Being annoyed by "rank". With a grunt, James pushed himself up off of the support beam that his 5'7 human frame's pot belly was resting on as the exposed hanger bay frame from the explosion was below, a emergency "safety" energy field preventing any further debris from falling to the decks below. James looked at the outdated---but still useful---BLX Labor Droid who was assisting him. He hadn't wiped the droid's memory since the Destroyer's launch and called his "right-hand man" Hank.

"Hank, what are the odds that someone has two first names as their first and last name and then has a inappropriate middle name due to shortening of said first-first name? Then add on the calculation that he has a by-the-book medical doc banging him about a little bit of weight and some good home cooking?"

The droid's old processor's thought for a second, then the droid responded, "You, sir. That is my calculation."

James grimaced. "Painfully aware, isn't it?"

"Your bacon, sir," the droid responded, pointing to James' bacon stripes he had left on the supporting beam as a snack as they worked away repairing the wiring from the explosion.

James grabbed the last few pieces and stuffed them into his mouth, "It'll be my pleasure to piss her off...again," the aging Deck Officer pointed to the wiring, "Keep working on that set of wiring. With any luck, we'll have power restored to the water pumps on this side of the hanger within the hour."

With another grunt---and a mouthful of bacon----James pulled his short & stocky frame up and out of the hole where the explosion had taken place. He smiled with his mouthful of bacon at the doc.

"Deck Off----!"

"Hello Surgeon-Commander!" James yanked some of the bacon out of his mouth and offered it to her as he grinned, "Want some? It's covered with oil, grease, and other chemicals. Adds taste."


TAG @Sith-I-5


OOG: With luck, I'll be online again either sometime this week or on Saturday (probably this week). I'll get to other waiting tags accordingly. Thank you for your patience everybody.

 

IC: Surgeon-Commander Debgate, Main Hangar, ISD Darkest Night

"Hello Surgeon-Commander!"

The Norrathian groaned audibly as soon as she heard that familiar voice in response to her call, and shifted her gaze round to the crater, as Richard 'Dick' James, emerged from the depression - well, he certainly depressed her, so that was apt.

Although she liked to think the best in people, this drokker seemed to her, to be the spawn of whichever dark deity had created the Goblin race back on Norrath.

It had been so long since she had been back home, that her memories of it were fading despite her best efforts, and the only one of that species of squatting green, oversized-forearmed, organic deckchairs, that she could liken this insufferable fool to, was a Goblin Spiritcaller.

Well, at least this bacon-swigging drokker wasn't magical.

James yanked some of his bacon out of his mouth and offered it to her as he grinned, "Want some? It's covered with oil, grease, and other chemicals. Adds taste."

If she had been closer to him, she would have taken the proffered morsel despite her disgust, on the basis that if she had it, he wasn't eating it.

She had spoken to two 'captains' about this...being.

Well rather, Captain Totter had spoken to her, taking Dick's side, and with some kind of displaced loyalty based on the man being with Darkest Night since her launch.

She had also confided with her old superior aboard the Ambivalence, her rank affording her the hypercomm privileges; and Captain Risk had also presented a perspective on this: there were over thirty thousand beings aboard an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. If someone does not want to be helped, and actively works against you, frak 'em, the Empire will manage.

That made her feel better.

Despite that advice, she would have persevered in trying to save him, if she had been able to pin down Master Chef Jengleheimer long enough to discuss what he was putting into the deck officer, but with that man hastily thumping away on his cybernetic leg as soon as he spotted her across the Mess, she had already closed the file on 'Operation Fat ****', long before they had arrived at Lepsawn 1-9. She just had not told him.

Making a mental note to rename his file to something more acceptable, the statuesque Barbarian put up her hand, showing him a placating palm.

"It's alright, I'm not here to discuss your diet." She nodded towards the parked ship. "I'm here about this thing, here. Commodore Englewood put out an order, just before he left the ship, no new vessels in or out without his direct authority. I am no expert on hangar affairs, as you well know-" She paused, knowing that he knew, that she knew, that he had ratted out for sticking her nose into these things before. Captain Risk had 'brought her up' to believe that "A Star Destroyer's safety was everybody's responsibility," and it was hard to shake that, no matter what Totter said. "-but this looks fairly in. Yet I did not see the Commodore's orders come up on my screen."

She ignored what she could see of his labour droid companion, basically the top of his head, and waited for Operation Fat **** to explain himself.

Tag: @Bravo

 

IC: Deck Officer Richard "Dick" James
Darkest Night


"Oh----" Richard looked to the ship and let the woman finish, before following up with, "---That. Well Surgeon-Commander, that ship there has to deal with what we uneducated folks like to call above my pay grade or---to avoid being dragged into a dark room and being asked questions---Imperial Security Bureau. Now, I'd be straight with ya Commander, best just let these ISB folks do their job and you mind yours. Lot less missing persons reports if you know what I mean."

Aside for all the divide between him and the good doctor, Richard was no fan of the secretive ISB and would---even in the case of the doctor---try to steer any unknowing person away from their gaze.


TAG @Sith-I-5

 

IC: Twi'lek Rebel Leader (Brock)
Interrogation Room, Darkest Night


Traitor.

The word stuck in his mouth like nerf steak gone bad. So, this was how it was supposed to be? These brainwashed Imperial soldiers didn't really have a brain for themselves. Just follow orders. Just listen to what the Imperial-controlled media told them. Just obey.

So be it.

"Anyone who would put there command center up there is an idiot," Brock replied, not letting the Imperials know his emotions, "Its one big target. Just waiting to be taken out. Its a decoy, a relay station to make inexperienced, non-thinking intelligence people like you all think there's something important by reading their communications. And if you wold trace their communications planet side, you would find a spider web of bounce-offs and redirects, making it impossible to find the true source of the transmissions. You want their command and control? I don't know where it's at, but I'd bet its in deep where civilians are at. Forcing you all to make a choice about who dies and who doesn't. War ain't that simple from separating civilian from military anymore.

"Now, I want that darn refresher."


TAG @Laine_Snowtrekker

 

IC: Duro Mercenary
Inside Caves, Sentry Moon

The Duro heard the Wookiee's roar of alarm!

"By the Force---" the Duro started, then he heard the blaster bolts.

He pointed to one of the humans. "You stay here! Get out of the caves and get a signal to the Abandoned Moon Facility! But don't you leave without us!"

"What---what do I tell them?" the nervous mercenary asked; it was the same one the Duro wondered how he became a mercenary.

The Duro grabbed his blaster carbine from on top of a barrel, "That we're being attacked, you idiot! Probably Imperials!" He turned to the other human, who was much more mercenary material and looked ready for a fight, "Come on!"

******

The Wookiee watched as the armored man retreated with the Imperial. Now out of sight, the Wookiee stopped and roared one last time, before taking stock of his own wounds, blood coming off on his paw. Behind him, he heard a struggle for survival and he turned around, seeing the female Imperial. She was trying to pull herself up along the cliff wall, a trail of blood oozing rapidity from her torn off arm. She struggled for her blaster pistol in the holster along her leg.

The Wookiee looked at the human arm he still held and then at her. He dropped the arm to the floor and just as the woman raised her blaster pistol with a shaking hand from a clear lack of blood, the Wookiee slammed his foot down and smashed her head.

It was then that the Duro and one of the humans came rushing around the corner' the Duro looked between the dead Imperial and the Wookiee's clear wounds, "Get back to the boat."

The Wookiee growled weakly and, instead, collapsed into the wall. The armored man had done his worst.

Looking down at the Wookiee, the Duro nodded and handed the massive alien a grenade, "If it's not us coming back this way, you know what to do. Stay alive that long for me, pal," the Duro padded his friend and comrade of many years on the shoulder, "I'll give the signal. If no signal, you know its not us."

The Wookiee growled with soft remembrance of his times with his Duro comrade and watched as the human followed his friend down the corridor and after the armored man and the other Imperial.

It didn't take long, in the distance, for several shots to be fired back-and-forth....


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


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


Oak waited. And waited some more. So far, nothing. Then, he heard something. But it was too distant, too far away into the tunnel system to make out. Regardless, he keyed his comm to check with the Security Chief.

Static.

Then he heard that sound again. This time he was dead sure it was blaster fire and it was getting closer. Bringing his blaster carbine's stock into his shoulder, he looked down the sights as he brought the barrel to the cave entrance.

He clicked the weapon from "safe" to "burst" with his thumb and brought his index finger over the trigger. One squeeze of the trigger and three bursts of blaster bolts would fly in towards his target, making sure whatever wasn't Imperial coming out of that tunnel would be dead.


TAG @Bardan_Jusik