Star Wars Limited Run The Dirty Seven

The Dirty Seven
An Alternative Expanded Universe Story


The Galactic Empire has suffered a grave defeat at the Battle of Endor. Licking its wounds, the Empire looses planets and military assets in the Outer Rim Territories in the months following Endor to the freedom fighters & popular uprising known as the Rebel Alliance as Imperial forces retreat to the Mid Rim and Inner Rim, defending the all important Colonies, Core Worlds, and Deep Core. Once there, internal divisions rock the New Order after the death of Palpatine finally settles in, but despite flashpoints of an internal civil war, the Empire does not crumble and after stable leadership in put in place 2 years after Endor, it halts the Rebel Alliance---now calling itself the New Republic---advance up the Mid Rim at Mytaranor, Coachelle, Ota and most brutally at Nazzri, Uyter, and Togoria by 6 ABY. The final New Republic defeat at Randon is so horribly devastating that it breaks the spine of the New Republic and forces the New Republic forces back to the planet of Kashyyyk and their holdings between the Perlemian Trade Route and Hutt Space in the Outer Rim Territories. There, Imperial forces surround the New Republic and the Rebels are forced to sue for a ceasefire, ensuring their other holdings survive to fight another day beyond Kashyyyk.

The Rebel Alliance has won a stunning and some would say unbelievable victory at the Battle of Endor. The Emperor is dead, as is his feared enforcer Darth Vader, and the Second Death Star with a bulk of the Imperial Starfleet's available Star Destroyers float in ruins above the forest moon. Despite the stunning success at Endor and in the months that followed after Endor, the fragile footing of the various Rebel groups' ideologies start to disrupt the Rebel Alliance's effectiveness as disputes arise over who and how the New Republic will govern. What could have been a solid footing to a new future post-Endor starts to collapse by two years after it, exposing the now New Republic's reliance as the Rebel Alliance on groups such as Saw Gerrera's Partisans, Garm Bel Iblis' Corellian Resistance, Col Serra's Renegade Squadron, or the many other ill repute of the galaxy such as Han Solos, Lando Calrissians, Dash Rendars, and Booster Terriks of the galaxy. As things go from bad to worse for the new government, the New Republic finds itself fundamentally split in half by the Imperial blockade of the vital Triellus Trade Route and Hutt Space, seeing their Kashyyyk and other holdings in the Outer and Mid Rims along the Perlemian Trade Route get pounded into star dust, while their initial sizeable post-Endor holdings in the Wild Space, Western Reaches, and Trailing Sectors are helpless to assist their comrades with more Imperial blockades along the Gamor Run, Bothan Run, Trax Tube hyperspace routes. After 6 months of a semi-encirclement by Imperial forces, the Rebel forces between the Perlemian Trade Route and Hutt Space are forced to sue for a ceasefire.

Despite the temporarily ceasefire, old school Rebel Alliance leaders such as the newly married Leia Organa Solo, Gial Ackbar, and Crix Madine know better then to trust the Galactic Empire. Wounded and scared after their defeat at Endor, they know the Empire and the New Order's ruling class is more dangerous than ever. Desperate to save Leia, Ackbar, Crix, Han Solo, and Chewbacca on Kashyyyk, Airen Cracken & Mon Mothma authorize a daring rescue mission from the New Republic capital world of Barkhesh.

Time is of the essence, as is the ability to get in and out unseen. The Empire has everything locked down and monitored the closer you get to Kashyyyk and professional looking infantry soldiers & pilots would give away the rescue and surely speed up the Empire's evil plans. Cracken has someone who can do the job, but its someone he has to get out of a Rebel prison first. Then Cracken's man has to assemble the rescue team---which Mon Mothma is already objecting to considering its elements. But its the only plan they got and they only have one shot........


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ABOUT
​

The Dirty Seven is a limited run, limited player (6 players plus Game Master, 7 total) alternative Expanded Universe game. The events of the "New Canon" and Operation Cinder after the Battle of Endor did not happen. Additionally:

• The very next post under this introduction post is "An Exhaustive History since the Battle of Endor". I highly recommend you read it, however dry it may be. It will set the "universe" for the game.

• Lastly, we will be recycling the Galaxy's Dump (A Paradoxical Echoes OOC/OOG discussion thread) for out-of-game social discussion.

The following sections will help you navigate the intro post and see if this is the right game for you:
​

1. Welcome
2. Your Mission
3. Character Sheet
4. Rules

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WELCOME!!!


You are the ill repute of the Rebel Alliance, the cast-offs of a Rebellion that used you and turned a blind eye to your misdeeds when it served their purposes. You were the Saw Gerreras, the Garm Bel Iblis, the Col Serras, and the Dash Rendars of the Rebellion. Now faced with the need to govern and hold territory and not just fight, the New Republic central leaders out of the new capital world of Barkhesh has deemed you a headache, a relic of the Rebel Alliance, and a public relation nightmare.

You are obsolete in the New Republic.

But, the New Republic finds itself between a rock and a hard place by 6 ABY, 2 years after the Battle of Endor. The expected behaviors of professional troops and skills of top-rated pilots are not what is needed to save the day. What is needed is a type of person with nothing to lose and everything to gain, while also being expendable and crazy enough to accept a most likely suicide mission with little chance of success.

That person is you.

You may be sitting in the Rebel prison in the ruins of the Clak'dor V Prison Colony or you may be sitting in a cantina somewhere on a blackwater planet. You could even be back to conducting your shady dealings before you joined the Rebel Alliance. Or, maybe, you tried to turn your life around with the Alliance, get that second start, but it all came crashing down after the Battle of Endor because you were already labeled one of them and your fate was sealed; the bitter feeling of rejection or the humble reminder of your past choices has led you to either back to your old life before the Rebellion or working a dead-end job trying to make sense of it all after the Rebellion.

Regardless, this is your situation.


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YOUR MISSION

You are one of seven individuals who have been handpicked to set out on a daring---and most likely suicidal---rescue mission. Your objective: trapped New Republic leadership on Kashyyyk. The same leadership that said you were obsolete.

If you are successful, Airen Cracken & Mon Mothma have promised to clean your record and you may either retire to private life or return to the New Republic guilt free. You will be given 15,000 credits each upon completion of the mission. If you purposely sabotage the mission or abandon your duties, then you will be hunted down and killed by the New Republic and bounty hunters. The New Republic will deny any and all knowledge of your mission if you are captured by the Empire or other forces.

You and your comrades will depart on the Hunk of Junk under the command of Jim Palso. Like the rest of you, Palso is a ill repute man. A man out for his own skin. But because of that, an honor among thieves is present.

Despite the seemingly cut dry rescue mission, something tells you that there is more than meets the eye about this rescue mission. Something else is going on, but what? Your gut tells you something is not right about this "straight forward" mission.


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CHARACTER SHEET
​

Please fill out & PM to Game Master Bravo. Once approved, post to this game thread. Thanks! No Jedi or Sith characters, unless with Game Master approval.

[CHARACTER PICTURE]
General


---Name:


---Species:


---Gender:


---Home World:


---Age:


---Year of Birth:


---Year of Death:


---Government or Political Cause Allegiance:


Appearance


---Height:

---Weight:

---Skin Color:


---Eye Color:


---Hair Color:


---Tattoos and Body Piercings:


---Other Attributes:


Clothing, Equipment, & Weapons


---Professional Clothing:


---Other Clothing:


---Body Armor:


---Primary Weapon:


---Secondary Weapon:


---Martial Arts:


Personality


---Traits:


---Habits:


---Favorite Foods:


---Favorite Drinks:


---Favorite Social Events:


---Social & Cultural Likes:


---Social & Cultural Dislikes:


Education & Skills


----Highest Education Level:


---Specialized Education:


---Primary Professional Skill:


---Secondary Professional Skill:


---Life Experience Skills:


The Force


---Jedi, Sith, or Other:


---Force Sensitivity:


---Force Abilities:


---Lightsaber:


Biography


---Early Life, Education, & Family:


---Professional Life:


---Traumatic Experiences:

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RULES
​

1. Have fun!
2. General; Please follow the RPF Rules and be mindful of the Terms of Service, Rules of the Jedi Council Forums, and Harassment Policy.
   
3. Staff; Game Master Bravo's word is final in terms of The Dirty Seven, unless otherwise stated by a Moderator or Manager of the Role Playing Forum.
   
4. Characters; All character sheets must be PMed (Private Message) to Bravo for approval; as a general rule, Sith, Dark Jedi, or Gray Jedi ARE NOT ALLOWED. Jedi-based characters have restricted entrance into the game with the Force abilities of Luke Skywalker in Star Wars: A New Hope. Players are allowed up to one (1) Player-Character (PC). Only the direct owner/player of a character or the Game Master (with permission from the owner/player) can kill off a PC character. Life altering physical damage to the character (loss of a limb, etc) must also be approved by the player/character before actions are taken.
   
5. Social & Questions; All Out-of-Game and/or Out-of-Character discussions and questions should be posted and answered in the Galaxy's Dump (A Paradoxical Echoes OOC/OOG discussion thread). The Galaxy's Dump should be used as the public means of game questions and other Out-of-Character game discussions verses that of PM (Private Message) and non-game socializing.
   
6. Tags & Game Response Time; All tag(s) should be replied to within a week (7 days) time period, unless other circumstances such as family, college, work, or DRL (Darth Real Life) prevent a timely reply. Please let other players and staff know of such delays via the Galaxy's Dump (details of the delay are not required, since that information is private to you). If a response to a tag is not received within 7 days, without one of the above described reasons posted in the Galaxy's Dump, then a staff member may use a NPC (Non-Player Character) to move your character along without directly influencing your character's actions.
   
7. Storyline; All major storylines (a storyline that affects the game as a whole) must have prior approval by Bravo via PM or the Galaxy's Dump. Minor storylines (those that only affect your character and one (1) or two (2) other characters with prior approval by those users) are freely allowed without Bravo's prior approval.
   
8. Disputes & Concerns; Any disputes between players, players and staff, or staff and staff that cannot be handled in a peaceful manner, must be forwarded to Bravo via Private Message (PM) for further action. Any disputes that violate the Terms of Service, Rules of the Jedi Council Forums, and/or Harassment Policy must be forwarded to both Bravo and a Role Playing Forum Moderator or Manager immediately.
   
9. Copyright; players and staff are implored to make references and give credit to any and all creations not their own that they incorporate from outside sources into the game threads.
   
10. Realism
    • Characters ---characters that you role play---as a Player Character (PC) or Non-Player Characters (NPC)---under your direct or temporary control to the best of your ability; this includes posting realistic character actions, movements, injuries, and or deaths to other player controlled Player Character or Non-Player Characters' actions; and that any and all information your character should or should not have based on experience gained in game, character sheets, in-game development, and other character and game factors.

• Starships, Vehicles, and or Vessels --- starships, vehicles, and or vessels that you role play, modify, and (or) build any starhips, vehicles, and (or) vessels realistically, meaning that you obey realistic role playing movements against you by another player and that your mode of transportation thus mentioned above is equal to any known Star Wars canon-approved data, stats, and (or) information. References (work cited; aka web links) must be listed to reference ship data, stats, and (or) information.

• Other Game Situations --- The Game Master asks that you, in any and all situations that arise Player Character, is posted to the best of your ability to uphold realism, Star Wars canon material, and to avoid any accidental or intentional god-modding. If you have questions regarding realism or other Star Wars material, please ask in our Galaxy's Dump (A Paradoxical Echoes OOC/OOG discussion thread) before posting In-Character.

​

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In Loving Memory of Sith-I-5
(1968 to 2020)

"That is mostly how I feel about stuff I have written earlier. It is what was in our hearts and minds at the time, and presumably put onto the page to the best of our ability at the time, and it is what got me to this stage where I'm now in the groove, so I value it for itself...plus, apparently I can be a funny fragger, and I tend to amuse myself when I look back on things.

Earlier writings and posts are the history of my character" - @Sith-I-5 , unknown date (RIP, July 2020)​

 

An Exhaustive History since the Battle of Endor
4 ABY to 6.5 ABY

***

The Galactic Empire suffered a grave defeat at the Battle of Endor, the Death Star II being destroyed along with multiple star destroyers and the Endor bunker and one of the Empire's best stormtrooper legions. With it, and worse, were the deaths of the Emperor and his feared enforcer, Darth Vader. In the ashes of the Empire's defeat, all is quiet and operating as it is supposed to: no Operation Cinder, no mighty collapse of the Galactic Empire and its mighty Imperial Military from within by its own hand. However, Imperial political infighting and a brief Imperial Civil War following the Emperor's death in the year after the Battle of Endor for the Imperial throne---mostly contained to the Inner Rim & Core Worlds among the Imperial Ruling Council against the rebellious Grand Moff Dunhausen and Moff Leonia Tavira supported by Grand Admiral Josef Grunger---hamper a proper and focused Imperial counterattack after the Battle of Endor and allow the Rebellion to make easy inroads into Imperial territory, easily taking large areas of the Outer Rim Territories.

What some hoped the Battle of Endor to be as the final watershed moment for a all but assured Rebel Alliance victory against the Galactic Empire has been anything but a mixed bag of broken promises and half truths three years later. The same divisions that divided the post-Clone Wars Separatist Holdouts, Early Rebellion fighters, and the assembled Rebel Alliance force that opted against a combined assault against the Empire before the Battle of Scarif resurface after the Empire's devastating defeat over Endor. These smaller ideological divisions among the Rebel leadership do not prevent the Rebel Alliance---swollen with pride, momentum, aroused public interest in the freedom fighters, and fresh recruits and sources of financial funding & war materials because of their Endor victory---from forging ahead. One-by-one Imperial worlds fall as the Alliance marches forward over the next two months following their victory at Endor, using their precious few hidden reserves and their battle damaged victorious Endor forces, capturing & liberating planets such as Sullust, Cmaoli Di, Darkknell. As the Rebels roll up Imperial forces to thunderous Outer Rim joy, Outer Rim recruitment, Imperial defections, and captured & abandoned Imperial war materials, supply & garrison bases, and shipyards give the Rebels much needed infusement of war machines & supplies, including Imperial Light Cruisers, Gozanti-class cruisers, EF76 Nebulon-B Escort Frigates, and Gladiator-class Star Destroyers, all Imperial assets once assigned to patrolling and enforcing Imperial rule in Wild Space, Western Reaches, and Trailing Sectors. Soon, worlds such as Bortras, Averam, Dorvalla, Clak'dor Vll (and Clak'dor IV & Clak'dor V with the ruins of the Clak'dor V Prison Colony) and Triton would become liberated in the months that follow. By 5.5 ABY---a year and a half after the Battle of Endor---the Rebel Alliance controls the vital hyperspace routes of the Sanrafsix Corridor, Five Veils Route, Llanic Spice Run, and access to the all-important Triellus Trade Route, ensuring the command of industries, world economies, and populations of some 61 notable worlds and hundreds of smaller worlds and moons, from as far east as Darkknell to as far west as Ryoone and Koda Station & its many poorer planets, and the Koda Spur.

Swollen with sudden public interest in the freedom fighters, the Rebel Alliance finds support, resources, financial aid, war materials, and recruits from the ill-forgotten Outer Rim Territories under Imperial rule, the native Outer Rim inhabitants suddenly free and emboden to reject the yoke of their Imperial masters and join the Rebel Alliance war effort. Planets such as Mustafar, Dorvalla, Bespin, and Cotellier support the raw material and gases needed for the raw industrial might of worlds such as Abridon, Elrood, and Sullust; Sullust's SoroSuub Corporation's catalogue of vehicles, vessels, equipment, and weaponry, as well as abandoned and captured Imperial production lines, become the backbone of the Rebel Alliance's war effort after the Battle of Endor. The Rebel Alliance is officially transformed into the New Republic by 5.5 ABY and its first Capital World is the world of Barkhesh.

Despite this great Rebel success, notable Imperial holdouts such as Eriadu, Javin, and Isde Naha are bastions of Imperial control and might within the confines of the New Republic, becoming fortress worlds almost overnight and housing much of the remaining Imperial-class Star Destroyer fleet in Wild Space, Western Reaches, and the Trailing Sectors, which smartly retreated instead of face capture and thus deprived the Rebel Alliance and now New Republic of its heaviest firepower in the fight against the Galactic Civil War. The Imperial Ruling Council has stabilized the Empire after claiming victory against the rebellious Grand Moffs & Moffs---savagely executing the survivors and much of their officers and other high ranking military personnel---and with the aid of the Imperial Security Bureau and Commission for the Preservation of the New Order, the defunct Imperial Senate is reinstated to power to help balance & strengthen the Empire after Endor and show a more open and willing approach to its citizens, as well as distance itself from some of the questionable political practices of Emperor Palpatine.

Smartly, the Imperial Ruling Council further installs Palpatine's loyal second-in-command Grand Vizier Mas Amedda as Imperial regent on the throne while Sate Pestage rose to Grand Vizier and oversees the Imperial Ruling Council, both moves maintaining Imperial power with Palpatine's closet aides and public faces of the Empire to both the general populace and the military, as well extending a very public branch of healing old wounds to various alien species around the galaxy for past Imperial actions against non-humans. Three loyal Grand Moffs---Grand Moff Naomi Dargon, Grand Moff Rufaan Tigellinus, and Grand Moff Cinzero Gann---are elected to the Ruling Council to fill the void left by Amedda & Pestage and strengthen the council's creditability to both the military and the reformed Imperial Senate. While the ruling council and senate strengthen and stabilize the Empire politically---the remaining Grand Moffs are "disposed of" in various ways, keeping only sector governor Moffs that are now were under their local Imperial Senator in political and domestic power, although held more power of commanding the military, law enforcement, and intelligence assets in the sector---the Imperial High Command with Grand Admirals Rae Sloane and Octavian Grant prepare a brutal Imperial counter-attack against the Rebellion.

Sensing time is short with the Empire stabilizing per New Republic Intelligence by 5.5 ABY, New Republic High Command secretly moves a bulk of their forces along the priceless Triellus Trade Route to the world of Junkfort, where they meet up with the remains of the Mon Calamari Exodus Fleet, and attack & liberate the worlds of Quermia, Pakuuni, Ruisto (rebuilting their destroyed shipyards), Mon Calamari & the Mon Calamari Shipyards, and finally secured the greater Overic Griplink hyperspace lane. Seeing mirrored success as they did the months after Endor and fueled by the Mon Calamari's shipyards and liberated zeal, the New Republic quickly attacks and liberates the planet of Troiken, before starting a deliberate and forced move down the Perlemian Trade Route and securing much of the Outer Rim between the Perlemian Trade Route and Hutt Space. Riding high on success and support, the New Republic dives into the Mid Rim and gets as far as Kashyyyk before things start to fall apart, if at first slowly.

Despite overwhelming successes and support in the backwater worlds of the Outer Rim Territories, the New Republic finds itself in a less advantageous position the closer and deeper it gets into the Mid Rim. The freedom fighter zeal is not as strong in the Mid Rim, where citizens' lives are relatively happy & productive with a fair opinion of the Galactic Empire; that fair view of the Empire is increased to good when the Imperial Senate is reformed and put back in power. Despite these pro-leaning Imperial views, however, the New Republic finds enough to support to continue the offensive.

But the Empire has other plans.

With each step forward, the weaknesses of the New Republic are exposed: a wartime ideological rebellion equipped with castoffs in military equipment and vessels & vehicles and poorly funded lacking a robust logistical and supply chain are easy pickings when forced to defend outposts, shipyards, and whole planets against better equipped and funded Imperial counter attacks, especially after the Imperial Civil War has settled the question of accession to the Imperial throne and the new found Imperial leadership has stabilized the internal crisis. What raw and now established strength the New Republic has is in the distance Wild Space, Western Reaches, and Trailing Sectors with strong logistical structures, supply chains, and industrial output minus well be a galaxy far, far away with the long trek along the Triellus Trade Route. But it is something---until the Empire launches devastating counter-attacks at Formos, Bheriz, Aduba, and Teth cut off that supply link and the Empire blockades, patrols, and raids the Triellus Trade Route almost freely up until Arkanis and the Corellian Run. The Empire forces the New Republic forces near the Perlemian Trade Route to rely on their new found conquests and yet-to-be fully operational Ruisto & Mon Calamari shipyards.

Despite lacking the far-reaching strength, financial means, industrial support, and---understandability---the trust, support, and recruitment pool of the average galactic citizen in the Mid Rim verses the Outer Rim, the determined New Republic pushes deeper towards the Mid Rim and the push starts to falter when the flow of needed supplies is halted by the Empire and then the New Republic is savagely halted by the Empire and pushed back with major losses at failed advances into Imperial held terrority at Mytaranor, Coachelle, Ota, and most brutally at Nazzri, Uyter, and Togoria by the second year after Endor (6 ABY). The final New Republic advance and subsequent defeat at Randon is so horribly devastating that it breaks the spine of the New Republic after the previous losses earlier in the year and the New Republic leadership and the very foundations of the original Rebellion are shook to its core.

The earlier divisions of ideology after the victory at Endor 2 years earlier are split wide open, turning "Rebel heroes" into little more than pity criminals, bullies, and ideological purists & activists carrying weapons in some areas of recently captured Imperial planets in the slice between the Perlemian Trade Route and Hutt Space. The pressure is put on the New Republic as Imperial forces surround the newest New Republic territory on three sides---Kashyyyk and all along the Randon Run, on the north & north-west sides of the Perlemian Trade Route stretching from the planet Gizer all the way to Roche, and from Randon to Chalacta---and then the Empire starts advancing with targeted attacks, disrupting what supply depots and communications networks the New Republic has first, then targeting isolated fleet elements and garrison bases. While the Empire lacks the raw firepower and manpower to advance on all fronts at once en masse after the losses at Endor and the months that followed (not to mention the internal civil war), they do have numbers, supplies, and logistics on their side and as such, they can advance in smaller task force size elements along all three sides to devastating targeted effect or have one or two sides of their near encirclement hold as another side advances en masse. Whatever the case, the New Republic is trapped and panic starts to set in.

Despite the crushing losses and the near encirclement, New Republic forces are able to limp back to Kashyyyk and hold the thinnest---but very strong---defense along the Great Kashyyyk Branch back to Charros IV, Bimmisaari, and finally Boz Pity & Boonta. Beyond Boonta and towards the slice of territory in between the Perlemian Trade Route and Hutt Space, a confusing web of New Republic loyalists, Separatist Holdout fighters, and Rebel Alliance purists clog together the New Republic's newest won territory. In the newest territory held by the New Republic in the galaxy and by far its most important to date, cooperation is becoming harder to come by among the various desperate Rebel groups of the New Republic as the Imperial near encirclement tightens; civilians are suffering with underfunded public services offered by the New Republic in the newly gained planets and territories, mismanaged and greedy government officials rule under the guise of the New Republic and take advantage of the panic to their own benefit, and public opinion is falling fast of the new government. Worse, New Republic relief forces from the Wild Space, Western Reaches, and Trailing Sectors are unable to punch through the Imperial forces along the Triellus Trade Route and similar attempts along the Gamor Run, Bothan Run, Trax Tube, and the desperate attempt along the heavier guarded Corellian Run through the Expansion Region are met with even worse results, Imperial forces waiting in ambush for the desperate New Republic relief forces. What supplies and what relief forces are able to get through are simply not enough.

Panic starts to set in by 6.5 ABY, 6 months into the mass semi-encirclement of the New Republic forces. Declining and failing New Republic currency---once a progressive staple of hope & change from the Wild Space, Western Reaches, and Trailing Sectors---and generally a sense of a lack of control and stability in the region lead to looting, rioting, civil unrest, murder, and worse in the New Republic's newly held territory; whole New Republic-controlled planets and military forces in the slice between the Perlemian Trade Route and Hutt Space start breaking away from the New Republic and forming their own planetary governments and, in some cases, cruel despots of whole star systems, desiring to save their own skins and fight on their own terms then go down with New Republic leadership stuck on Kashyyyk. Even worse, some of these independent planetary governments and star systems make alliances with the Galactic Empire to hold onto their new found power & freedom, further weakening the case for the New Republic.

Desperately, the "central" New Republic government and leadership at Kashyyyk involving such political faces as the newly married Leia Organa Solo secure a temporary ceasefire with the Galactic Empire. The New Republic leadership understands it is hopelessly outgunned, out-resourced, and out-industrialized to the Empire's unified might and any hope of maintaining any legitimacy within galactic politics, within military circles, within the eyes of the average galactic citizen, and to give any hope---however remote---for a future galactic-spanning New Republic to bring back the Grand Republic's glory days and replace the Galactic Empire starts with a peace treaty between the New Republic and the Galactic Empire. Additionally, New Republic Intelligence has discovered that the Empire lacks the ability---right now---to do a final all-out military push to wipe out the newly held territories of the New Republic; the spy service also expands that the Empire's goals are to weaken and delegitimize the New Republic from within and from without, causing the movement to fall apart. Worse from the spy agency is the Empire's newfound popularity in contrast in the Mid Rim and even parts of the Outer Rim to the New Republic's popularity stuck on Kashyyyk and elsewhere up along the Perlemian Trade Route. Even more stressing for the New Republic is the Empire's search for a new emperor to replace Grand Vizier Mas Amedda as Imperial regent on the throne and for the Grand Vizier to assume his previous duties, a move that has sparked strong public support and interest across the galaxy after Palpatine's debated rule the last 23 years. And as if it could not get any worse, the more the New Republic avoids a peace deal with the Empire, the less time it has to rearm and reassess its military position as the Empire---with strong evidence---is secretly building new weapons of war to challenge the New Republic's superiority in starfighters, anti-starfighter warship technology & deployment, and new Imperial tactics, a development that could spell the end of the New Republic in a dragged out war. Despite all the reports from the New Republic's spy agency, the most glaring and alarming report has not been submitted: Leia, Gial Ackbar, Crix Madine, Han Solo, and Chewbacca are all stuck on Kashyyyk, why does the Empire not apply all available forces and resources from across the vast Empire to take out heroes of the Rebellion that helped destroyed both the First Death Star and Second Death Star?

Naturally, the Commission for the Preservation of the New Order has taken great delight in the panic collapse of New Republic military forces and civilian populace and has mobilized the Imperial Press Corps enemas and the HoloNet News and Imperial Holovision show repeated nightly imagines, holos, and first person accounts of the chaos unfolding. Unfortunately for the New Republic, NewsNet, Galaxy News Service, and TriNebulon News has also carried the damaging news across the galaxy as well, among other news agencies. What great successes the New Republic enjoyed after the Battle of Endor in the Wild Space, Western Reaches, and Trailing Sectors is largely overshadowed by the meltdown of the New Republic in the slice between the Perlemian Trade Route and Hutt Space.

Despite the doom the New Republic finds itself in, the Empire finds itself in a equally unsure position, although it has the unquestionable support of the Deep Core, Core Worlds, Colonies, and most of the Inner Rim. Despite the stabilization of the Empire and its recent popularity, the old guard of of the Imperial Senate is not so quick to forget the wrongs done to it---both as an institution & as a political body---and just as much as the Imperial Ruling Council has schemes and plans in place to check the Imperial Senate and utilize them merely as a token political body to stabilize the Empire until a new Emperor is found, so does the Imperial Senate has schemes and plans in place to bring back the glory days of the Empire after the Clone Wars and wipe clean---once and for all---the Palpatine hardliners who supported such projects as the Death Star and Death Star II and the dual destructions of Jedha City and Alderaan. Holding the two fractions together is the shared interest in the once and for all final destruction of the Rebel Alliance, now turned New Republic. But that will not always be the case.​

 

And yes, that is my real face! At least 2 years ago (I think). Oh...and GM approved!



General

---Name: Jim Palso

---Species: Human

---Gender: Human

---Home World: Corellia

---Age:

• 21 as of 2 BBY

• 35 as of 12 ABY

---Year of Birth: 23 BBY

---Year of Death: N/A

---Government or Political Cause Allegiance:

• Talon Karrde (14 BBY to present)

• The Mercs (6 BBY to 1 ABY)

• Rebel Alliance (3 ABY to 4 ABY)

• Corellia (always)

• Self (always)

Appearance

---Height: 5'10

---Weight: 200 lbs

---Skin Color: Light

---Eye Color: Blue-gray

---Hair Color: Brown

---Tattoos and Body Piercings: None

---Other Attributes: Physically fit, although not overly done. Palso has a defined muscular form, which has increased his physical endurance and ability to take physical damage. With that said, however, Palso has a hurt left knee, hurt right shoulder, and back problems (between ages 23 & 35 and beyond). He also can't swim very well, although he can swim.

Clothing, Equipment, & Weapons

---Professional Clothing:

Palso wears black tactical pants tucked into dark brownish red maroon colored high shock boots (below the knee) with a armorweaved long-sleeve green shirt (brown suspenders are over the shirt). A dark brownish red maroon colored leather right thigh holster & belt holds a S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol, while a black colored leather left cross-draw belt holster holds a WESTAR-34 Blaster Pistol, and a dark brownish red maroon colored leather left thigh holster & belt holds another WESTAR-34 Blaster Pistol. A black leather gun belt is over the leather holsters and around his waist, holding two small hard leather pouches (one on either side) and one soft leather pouch on the right side. Palso also kept a pair of fingerless black leather gloves in one of the pouches, as well as a comlink, 2 ration packs, and galactic credits in the other pouches; he also had a metal water canteen on the back left hip of the gun belt.

All ammunition for the various weapons is carried on their respective holster belts, while a phrik forged boot knife & brown scabbard is in the right boot. A roasted coffee bean color open chested overcoat (blast armor) is warn over his body when outside of a starship he is part crew or a starship he owns; also, while outside a starship, he wears a black bandanna (or brown with a black stripe down the middle, pictured) and black aviator sunglasses. In 2 BBY, Palso acquired a black wide brim hat (pictured below) on the same day he stole the future Hunk of Junk. From that point on, he mostly wears just the hat and black bandanna under it (or brown bandanna with a black stripe down the middle), while wearing the black aviator sunglasses selectively, but not with the hat the same time.

For heavier engagements, Palso wears two bandoliers in an X across his chest (inside the jacket), which houses ammunition for his E-22 Blaster Rifle (modified with a vertical forward grip & brown rifle sling), 1 thermal imploder, and 3 concussion grenades.

---Other Clothing: See "Professional Clothing"

---Body Armor: See "Professional Clothing"

---Primary Weapon:

• 1 S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol

---Secondary Weapon:

• 2 WESTAR-34 Blaster Pistols
• 1 phrik forged boot knife
  
• 1 Customized E-22 Blaster Rifle (for heavier firepower needs, not typically equipped unless needed)

---Martial Arts: Tae Kwon Do

Personality

---Traits: Observant, impatient, common sense

---Habits: Scratching his head, smoothing out his beard, cracking his knuckles and fingers, rubbing his face when tired, cracking his neck. Smokes cigars.

---Favorite Foods: Anything Corellian, beef jerky, turkey sticks

---Favorite Drinks: Water, coffee, adult beverages

---Favorite Social Events: Holodramas

---Social & Cultural Likes: Conservative in social issues

---Social & Cultural Dislikes: He dislikes range from everything to racism and politics to holostars and a individual's lack of personal responsibility. Palso lives by the saying of live and let live and dislikes those who interfere on that basic freedom.

Education & Skills

----Highest Education Level: Never finished schooling, lacking traditionally educated book smarts.

---Specialized Education: Street smarts and common sense. Self-taught book smart.

---Primary Professional Skill: Gunfighter

---Secondary Professional Skill: Pilot

---Life Experience Skills: Mercenary, Pirate, Smuggler

The Force

---Jedi, Sith, or Other: None

---Force Sensitivity: Yes
At least as of 2 BBY, Jim Palso has no knowledge that he is a Force-sensitive or to what degree that sensitivity might be. His Force talents, however, could account for his above average quick reflexes and ability to seemingly avoid danger moments before something happens.

As of 3 ABY, this information is assumed to be still correct, as Palso has shown no knowledge that he is Force-sensitive, although the degree to which his Force-sensitivity lays is thought to be along the lines of Luke Skywalker in 0 BBY, little more than a understanding as taught by a crazy old wizard (which Palso does not have one of those), and that of Finn in 34 ABY.

---Force Abilities: Force Reflex & Precognition

---Lightsaber: None

Biography

---Early Life, Education, & Family:
Growing up on Corellia to two middle class parents---or so it would seem---his mother played the housewife, while his father was a smuggler. But more then a smuggler, Jim's father was a Jedi Knight hiding from the Jedi Purge after the Clone Wars. Taking a role of a smuggler---a true joy of flying deep in his blood---Jack Palso wouldn't tell Jim of his true identity, or of Jim's potential in The Force himself---before he died when Jim was 9 years old.

Despite his hidden identity, Jack Palso raised his son to respect and honor the Jedi. But when Jack Palso was cut down by the very people he respected and honored so much in front of Jim's eyes, Jim developed an extreme hatred of the Jedi, calling the Jedi "that foolish religion".

Palso has a on/off switch for his emotions, a sensitivity training thanks to Talon Karrde that allows him to deal with injury, death, and the horrors of war without interjecting emotions into his duty. While such training is common among almost every military, paramilitary, law enforcement, or emergency response organization, Talon perfected the training in Palso. Ice cold one moment, an understanding ear the next moment. The ability to "box" his emotions per event and regulate his response to those events is highly effective and useful.

---Professional Life:
Raised by his father's best friend, Talon Karrde, after his father's death (and his mother's suicide after his father's death), Jim Palso would grow up further amidst thieves, mercenaries, smugglers, and spacers alike. After serving with Karrde and his organization for a number of years, at 17 years of age, Jim broke out on his own (despite Karrde's wishes he wouldn't). Jim's first independent job was with The Mercs, an organization Talon had recommended Palso check out.

Known as a risk taker and playing the long odds, Jim Palso has become a respectable mercenary & sometime pirate with the Mercs by age 21 (he's also proven to be a capable pilot of air speeders, light freighters, and starfighters alike). He's also becoming known for being quick on the draw with his WESTAR-34 Blaster Pistol (left side draw across the front) & shoot first, ask questions later mentality; he's also a proven gunfighter with few equals. Palso knows moderate martial arts skills, mainly an art known as Tae Kwon Do and other self-defense techniques.

At age 24, after 7 years with The Mercs, Palso struck out on his own with the Hunk of Junk and Walking Library & Bugger part of his new crew after the events of Project Zero's destruction in 1 ABY. By age 26---2 years later in 3 ABY---Palso had established himself as a reliable smuggler & solid mercenary and could be heard in the same conversations as Dash Rendar in cantinas across the galaxy.

In that same year of age 26, 3 ABY, he accepted a contract by the Rebel Alliance and was then double crossed by the Rebels and made the fall guy after a mission gone wrong against the Galactic Empire. While the Hunk of Junk, his droids Bugger & Walking Library, and several rescued refugees & wounded Rebels were able to escape with Talon Karrde's help aboard the light freighter, Palso was captured by the Empire as he bought time for everyone to get onboard of the Hunk of Junk and out of harm's way. After his capture, Palso was secretly transferred to and imprisoned temporarily at a remote listening post while awaiting a pick-up by an Military Intelligence transport.

Until and during the Battle Endor, Palso served again under the Alliance, but not totally by his own will. It was a way to pay his debts to the Alliance, who "rescued him" from that listening post. After the Battle of Endor, Palso's movements are hard to track. The last time he is seen at the Battle of Endor is at the Ewok Celebration after the destruction of the Second Death Star. Both the Corellian, his droids, and the Hunk of Junk disappear from the Alliance's ranks later that same night, assuming the mercenary-turned-smuggler-turned-sometime Rebel agent deserted his post or was released from his agreement in which he served under the Alliance. It is not sure which account is accurate.

Two years later, in 6 ABY, we find Palso in a Rebel prison in the ruins of the Clak'dor V Prison Colony. How he got there is largely unknown or, at the very least, up to debate.

---Traumatic Experiences:

• Father killed by the Jedi

• Palso deals with complex post-traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD) from his combat missions with the Rebel Alliance and mercenary work. He deals with the stress with his favorite Corellian adult drinks in a unhealthy fashion. Additionally, he is emotionally detached to suffering of others and of himself because of his Rebel Alliance & mercenary work. Despite his on/off switch to his emotions, Palso comes across as cold, heartless, and indifferent in times and moments when emotion and reflection is needed. This has lead many people to assume he doesn't care, when he does care.

 

GM Approved



General

---Name: Tala Ashe
---Species: Human
---Gender: Female
---Home World: Alderaan
---Age: 34
---Year of Birth: 28 BBY
---Government or Political Cause Allegiance: New Republic despite the bitterness

Appearance

---Height: 1.95 m
---Weight: 90 kg
---Skin Color: Caucasian
---Eye Color: Green
---Hair Color: Light Brown, blonde tips, side shave
---Tattoos and Body Piercings: None
---Other Attributes: Cyber Implants

Clothing, Equipment, & Weapons

---Professional Clothing: used to wear uniform, nowadays uses standard casual clothing
---Other Clothing: flight suit
---Body Armor: Full Body Armor
---Primary Weapon: E-11D blaster carbine
---Secondary Weapon: DL-44 heavy blaster pistol
---Martial Arts: Teras Kasi

Personality

---Traits: standard human, with cybernetic implants improving her aim and reflexes
---Habits: maintaining physique and marksmanship, studying battles
---Favorite Foods: loves junk food
---Favorite Drinks: most alcoholic beverages + sugary sodas
---Favorite Social Events: parties, fight clubs, boxing, martial arts fights
---Social & Cultural Likes: partying, brawls
---Social & Cultural Dislikes: the Empire, cruelty, dishonesty, dishonor

Education & Skills

----Highest Education Level: High School and some Military School
---Specialized Education: Teras Kasi, commando training
---Primary Professional Skill: Marksmanship
---Secondary Professional Skill: Teras Kasi and Piloting
---Life Experience Skills: Improved combat skill

The Force

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

Biography

Born on Alderaan it was clear from a young age that she would not be pursuing a scientific, artistic or political career. Tala trained in Teras Kasi and became a master. Being too hot-tempered to be part of the Alderaani royal guard she decided to travel the Galaxy. Fought in underground Teras Kasi tournaments and became a champion and somewhat of a legend among the fans. As a supplement to her income she became a mercenary and saw combat among the backwater worlds where different criminal organizations fought for control. After the Death Star destroyed Alderaan and wiped out her family she joined the Rebellion. Flying her trusty StarViper Tala was a force to be reckoned with, but her insubordinate streak shaped her destiny again and got booted out of the New Republic’s forces as there was no more use for people like her. Knowing only combat, Tala returned to her mercenary days fighting against petty tyrants on backwater worlds but wishing to get back into the struggle against the Empire...

---Traumatic Experiences: the destruction of her homeworld

 

CHARACTER SHEET



[CHARACTER PICTURE]
General

---Name: Rishta Ravvel

---Species: Togorian

---Gender: Male

---Home World: Togoria

---Age: 37 cycles

---Year of Birth: 29 BBY

---Year of Death: TBD

---Government or Political Cause Allegiance: Rebellion


Appearance

---Height: 3 meters / 9' 10"
---Weight: 276 kg / 609 lbs
---Skin Color: Black
---Eye Color: Orange
---Hair Color: Grey and Black, with some white starting at the chin
---Tattoos and Body Piercings: None
---Other Attributes: Decorative beads and bobbles tied into a few strands off his head, mementos of days and deeds past.


Clothing, Equipment, & Weapons

---Professional Clothing: Dull dark green and brown leather armor.
---Other Clothing: None.
---Body Armor: Dark green and brown layered leather armor with sewn in armor plates.
---Primary Weapon: Claws and body.
---Secondary Weapon: Heavy blaster with portable power generator. - A MWC-35c "Staccato Lightning" repeating cannon
---Martial Arts: Basic hand to hand styles of his people and what he has picked up in the commandos and from time among pirates.


Personality

---Traits: Is a straight shooter, and takes most statements at their literal face value.
---Habits: Tends to watch and observe what is going on around him
---Favorite Foods: Roasted meat
---Favorite Drinks: Mead
---Favorite Social Events: Bonfire gatherings
---Social & Cultural Likes: Enjoys the hunt, the chase.
---Social & Cultural Dislikes: Idleness with no direction.


Education & Skills

----Highest Education Level: Graduated equivalent of high school
---Specialized Education: Trained in being a street fighter early in his life, dirty fighting by pirates, and later commando training.
---Primary Professional Skill: Rebel Commando
---Secondary Professional Skill: Load lifter
---Life Experience Skills: Ruffian

The Force

---Jedi, Sith, or Other: N/A
---Force Sensitivity: Unknown
---Force Abilities: N/A
---Lightsaber: N/A

Biography

---Early Life, Education, & Family: Raised in the capital city of his home world, where Rishta was raised by his grounded mother along with his three siblings. He has always been drawn to the stars and those strange things that were waiting out there. Most of his study and education beyond what was required was to learn more about that weird place, and to prepare himself for what challenges waited there.
---Professional Life: Leaving the marauding lifestyle of the male bands of his world after traveling with them for a couple years to gather money saw him setting off into the stars. This was an odd journey as what he knew best about that weird place was bounty hunters, pirates, slavers, and white shells (Imperials) that he could learn of from the libraries. After trying his hand as a pirate he eventually left and joined the Rebel Alliance, where he was able to be trained as a commando and crush white shells. Although he did not excel at mixing tactics he was heavily trained as a mobile gunnery platform, and in silent hand to hand combat techniques. A commando of extremes.
---Traumatic Experiences: Aliens lie. Others would not keep their word to Rishta, and when Rishta try to collect on those words - Rishta was imprisoned. All because Rishta killed his commander for failing to keep his word and was, in Rishta's defense, following another order of a kind that said commander had given. Namely, 'If I'm lying strike me down!' He was lying, and Rishta followed that order and struck him down.

 

Approved by GM.



General


---Name: Astrea "Wraith" Igarashi


---Species: Human


---Gender: Female


---Home World: Courscant


---Age: 27


---Year of Birth: 31 BBY


---Year of Death: 50 ABY


---Government or Political Cause Allegiance: The Empire until she ran away, and then the Rebellion in order to survive. Now, Astrea's only allegiance is to herself and the people she can sometimes help.


Appearance


---Height: 5'3

---Weight: 125 Lbs

---Skin Color: White


---Eye Color: Grey/Blue


---Hair Color: Red


---Tattoos and Body Piercings: None.


---Other Attributes: She has a scar across her chest from her days fighting and tracking in the Rebellion.


Clothing, Equipment, & Weapons


---Professional Clothing: She usually just throws a deep green or red cloak over her normal clothes and adds a black jacket to look more professional.


---Other Clothing: (Shown above)


---Body Armor: None.


---Primary Weapon: A-280 blaster rifle.




---Secondary Weapon: A hunting knife.


---Martial Arts: Yes.


Personality


---Traits: Sarcastic, a good sense of humour, but can also be cold and calculating when necessary.


---Habits: Fidgeting when nervous.


---Favorite Foods: Deep fried Nuna-Legs


---Favorite Drinks: Naboo wine, blue milk.


---Favorite Social Events: Soirees


---Social & Cultural Likes: She enjoys figuring people out, and getting to know them. She even enjoys playing politics with people, to a small degree. Astrea also loves learning about different cultures.


---Social & Cultural Dislikes: Astrea hates petty politics and those who's only culture is to destroy the way of life others have built for themselves.


Education & Skills


----Highest Education Level: Myomar Academy


---Specialized Education: None.


---Primary Professional Skill: Tracking


---Secondary Professional Skill: Professional Mercenary


---Life Experience Skills: After she graduated from the Myomar Imperial Academy, Astrea went Awol, not wanting to do the Empire's bidding. She wandered for a time, and after many months, soon found herself up for hire to a local mercenary guild; where her reputation grew and she earned the nickname "Wraith."


The Force


---Jedi, Sith, or Other: Other for now. She has no affiliation with either Sith or Jedi.


---Force Sensitivity: Yes.


---Force Abilities: She's not quite sure, Astrea just knows she can charm people more easily then others.


---Lightsaber: None.


Biography


---Early Life, Education, & Family: Astrea was born to a stanch, political family on Courscant. She did not have any siblings, and her parents were proud of their only child, hoping she would grow up to become just as political as they were, as Imperial as they were. Her father served as a royal guard to the Emperor and her mother was a loving stay-at home professional, running her own holo-net store that sold weapons and armour to the upper-class of Courscant. While her childhood was lavish, Astrea longed for something more normal, and all but begged her parents to send her to the Imperial Academy of Myomar, which they eventually did.

Academy life suited her, for a time. Although soon after graduation, Astrea; not wanting to spend the rest of her life following the Imperials Orders, jumped ship and went AWOL to make a better life for herself. It was then that she would eventually join the mercenary guild, and through hard work, not all of it easy; she started to make a name for herself as "Wraith."

---Professional Life: Do you know why people call her Wraith? Because Astrea's face is the last thing her enemies see before they die. If there is one thing she's always been good at, it's tracking people down and dealing with them. It's why the Rebellion sought her out, why they found her so useful for a time. She gained a reputation by being loyal to her soldiers, to the people she served without doing anything too over the line. And she treated everyone equal under her command, alien or not.

It was through this loyal leadership that wraith gained the knowledge to succeed, for a time. Until after the battle of Endor, when things came crashing down; quite literally. She was separated from her soldiers, and awoke hours later, alone and with a broken leg. Astrea doesn't remember how she ended up on a hospital ship, or the days that followed, but she eventually left the Rebellion to once again, find herself. Only this time, she felt like a bigger failure then she had in her entire life.


---Traumatic Experiences: Astrea feel's like a failure for losing her soldiers at the Battle of Endor and suffers from survivors guilt due to this.

Tag: @Bravo

 

OOG: We have two open slots left with a pending fifth slot about to be taken of 7 slots. That gives us a confirmed roster of:

1. Ashe, Tala (human, female) --- @TheAdmiral
   
2. Igarashi, Astrea (human, female) --- @TheSilentInfluence
   
3. Palso, Jim (human, male) --- @Bravo
4. Ravvel, Rishta (Togorian, male) --- @Mitth_Fisto
   
5. Pending
6. Open
7. Open

 

General
---Name: R3-TJ. Answers to TJ, or The Jawa (droid humor, you wouldn't understand)
---Species: droid
---Gender: male-ish
---Home World: Tatooine
---Age: 20?
---Year of Birth: Records have been lost
---Year of Death: He intends to live forever
---Government or Political Cause Allegiance: First allegiance is to himself. He opposes the Empire and crime syndicates because they take away his personal freedom.

Appearance
---Height: about 1 meter
---Weight: 33 kg
---Skin Color: dirty white and yellow with a transparent dome

Equipment, & Weapons
All the usual astromech gear, including:
Computer interface arm
Holoprojector
Retractable manipulators
Multi-spectral sensors
Integral commlink
Tractor beam
Grapple line
Repulsors and thrusters

---Primary Weapon: arc welder
---Secondary Weapon: rotary saw
---Martial Arts: As-tro-mek-jitsu

Personality
---Traits: Very independent, doesn't like taking orders, thinks he has a great sense of humor
---Habits: petty theft, grand theft, larceny, shoplifting, robbery, stealing, pickpocketing, grand theft speeder, grand theft spacecraft, grand theft starship, etc.
---Favorite Foods: 115-120V AC three phase at 390-410 hz, DC will do but leaves a bad taste in his socket
---Favorite Drinks: 10W-40
---Favorite Social Events: loud rambunctious parties where it's easy to pick pockets
---Social & Cultural Likes: admires rebels and loners
---Social & Cultural Dislikes: authoritarianism

Education & Skills
----Highest Education Level: Apprenticed as a technician in Jabba the Hutt's garage
---Specialized Education: On-the-job training in tramp freighters and starfighters
---Primary Professional Skill: ship tech/programmer
---Secondary Professional Skill: pilot/astrogator
---Life Experience Skills: theft, scams, and cons

Biography
---Early Life, Education, & Family: Worked as a tech for Jabba until he displeased the corpulent one. Eventually managed to escape Tatooine.
---Professional Life: Worked as a ship tech for various smugglers, tramp freighters, and pirates until he ended up in the Rebellion. Served aboard the carrier Intrepid with the Star Raiders squadron and other units, both X-wing and Y-wing. Somehow, he avoided being transferred to the Black Sheep; no one is quite sure how. (He hacked and cancelled the transfer orders, repeatedly.) Developed a reputation for serial theft, and memory wipes did nothing to change that.

 

GAME STARTING TOMORROW (SATURDAY)!!!
​

Hold onto your seats, people, because its going to be wild!

@TheAdmiral , @TheSilentInfluence , @Mitth_Fisto , @Sarge

 

WE. ARE. LIVE.
​

Welcome to the Dirty Seven! After waiting 11 days for an additional 2 players, I have decided to pull that trigger and go! I will be writing the opening post now---as you read this---and it will be up before night's end. So keep your eyes peeled for that first game post.

While it was not my original intention to develop wiki support articles for this particular game, over the last 11 days I have decided to do so. While limited in scope and not necessarily vital for the game's background, the below post-Endor wiki section will give you a deeper understanding into the original An Exhaustive History since the Battle of Endor, posted on November 16th, 2021 in the game thread. For those players that like a easy rider experience, you may choose to stay with the Exhaustive History. For those of you who really want the game's background for both character development and game characteristics, I would encourage you read the articles when you have a chance. As you read the articles, you will notice subtle tie-in's to the greater Paradoxical Echoes Universe (PEU); this was intentional, as to allow players to use previous storylines and characters as they desire to.

Post Endor Wiki Library Articles

​

God Bless,

Jason
aka Bravo

 

IC: Jim Palso
New Republic Clak'dor Federal Prison Colony, ruins of the Clak'dor V Prison Colony; Outer Rim Territories, 6.5 ABY


The rotating desk fan softly creaked and sputtered as it struggled to move back and forth, its motion hampered by the low grinding noise that struggled against it from years of neglect. The stale smell of a ruined Bith prison colony, whose remnants were meant to be left undiscovered, soaked through the air, the walls, the fan. You couldn't escape the thousands of years that this dark, forbidden place sat forgotten, floating among the gas giant of Clak'dor V's thin layer of breathable air. Unlike Cloud City that operated on the same principle, this prison's repulsorlifts should have given out hundreds of years ago and taken the prison's deep, dark secrets with it. It's probably what the Bith had hoped for. Made you wonder why the peace-loving gas suckers didn't just level a few well placed rockets towards this little piece of hell---maybe they were too afraid to go near it.

Lucky Palso.

Rumor was that when a pair of Aggressive ReConnaissance-170 starfighters on a recon op found this place a few years ago, it was titled to one side and on an awkward slow turning downward spiral---only emergency thrusters kept bringing the hell hold back up to its normal operating ceiling, before shutting off and allowing the failing repulsorlifts to repeat the process. Whoever's bright idea it was from the New Republic Combined Air & Starfighter Corps to get this information to higher ups should be shot. Dead. Multiple times. And then shot more to make the dear departed soul of that idiot feel every last round of anger from all the inmates locked up into this place.

The mercenary-turned-smuggler had to chuckle at that sick, horrifying thought.

"What is so funny?" came the rough voice of the warden as the male Rodian looked up from the datapad he was viewing, his eyes shooting arrows of a man inconvenienced with his time to deal with the likes of Jim Palso.

"Nothing," Palso said, cracking his neck as he readjusted his body to the confines of the metal cuffs chained to the equally crude metal table, which was bolted into the floor. Jim had noticed earlier that the floor and walls had seemed to have claw marks of some kind---or finger marks---as if someone, something, or a group of persons had been tortured in this large cell many of thousands of years ago, the cell having since been converted into an arrangement cell, which overlooked one of the mess halls below through old crude steel bars, those bars looking down some 10 stories. A faint red hue of a modern particle shield wrapped around the two sides of the corner of the cell that overlooked down below, the shield every so often flickering.

"I can put a stun baton to your face, traitor, and we will see who is laughing then," the Rodian spit in vile words towards Jim.

Palso glanced at his left shoulder, where the alien's spit slowly moved its way down his dirtied, overused, and torn orange inmate jumpers.

"You added character to my attire," Jim said as he looked back to the alien with a smirk, "It should fit right in with the rest of the filth of this orange suit."

As if trained for such responses to the warden's words to inmates, the human male prison guard flanking the interior opened jail cell door took a step forward and had his own stun baton out and activated within seconds, but the warden took a long second to hold up his hand to stop the guard. While that prison guard halted, the other guard standing in the corner and behind Palso had taken up position behind the seated smuggler.

The low hum of the stun weapon hissed right near Jim's right ear.

The Rodian smiled.

"Do we need another lesson, Mr. Palso, in respect to authority?"

"Not in particular," Palso replied honestly; the last "lesson" was a group of prisoners "accidentally" armed with batons who were released into Palso's cell a few weeks ago. Known as the Warden's Enforcers, these low life thugs spending time in here for military crimes were ruthless in their application of force and had a love for it, as it got them out of their cells for a short time. When the beatings were done on their assigned target, they would calmly walk away and hand the batons into the handful of prison guards standing in the back watching, before returning to their own cells, "But if it gets you all excited, well, I am aim to please."

The warden's victorious face turned sour and he nodded above and behind Palso; moments later, the Corellian felt the stun baton wrap around his neck and lift him up from the chair, only the chain attached to the table stopping any more upward progress. Palso's body revolted against the stun as his muscles tightened and his body spasmed slightly at the volts being shot through his neck and up into the rest of his body.

The warden sat back in his chair and watched with delight as the blue volts of energy washed over Palso's body, the metal cuffs & chains, and washed over the metal table as the blue energy reflecting in the Rodian's eyes as the Wookiee prison guard---protected from the stun voltage---held Palso upright. The Rodian felt a slight muscle twitch across his lips.

"We are becoming more resilient to pain I see," the warden announced in mixed delight of a willing & determined prisoner and in frustration at the same token.

"Just more resilient to your bull," Palso forced through clenched teeth.

"We will see about that," the warden announced and nodded behind Palso. The Wookiee dropped Palso back to the seat, where the man fought back waves of pain that flashed over his body still.

"A pity when the safety features to regulate how high a stun charge goes on the stun batons have been broken due to years of neglect and underfunding," the Rodian announced as he watched smoke slowly drift upwards and away from Jim's body as the Wookiee took a step back and put the stun baton away, a slight chuckle coming from the wookiee.

"The next time we meet," Palso said as he stared at those claw marks on the floors, "I am going to kill you."

"Well, good for me there will not be a next time then," the Warden replied, drawing Jim's glare as the man straightened up in his chair, "NRI wants to talk to you. I am going to assume its about your record with the Imperials and a plea bargain for information."

"I won't talk to them," Palso replied.

The Rodian's eyes flashed with excitement as he leaned forward with his elbows on the metal table, "Then we will meet again. But, I promise you, I will not be the one dying," without another word, the warden stood up and nodded to the wookiee, who threw a second stun baton on the ground, this one clearly damaged with burn marks across its shaft; Palso looked at the stun baton, then up to the warden who simply said, "Like I said, Palso, underfunding."


***


Palso had been there for some time. He did not know how long, but it was long enough for the sun that had been shooting through a window up above over the mess hall to have disappeared and been replaced by the darkness of night and stars. His stomach wouldn't stop growling from a lack of food and, at least, his leg still wasn't wet from earlier when he peed himself when no one answered his calls for a bathroom break. But he could still get hint of the faint smell of it.

Great.

"Hello?" Jim asked again, his voice echoing through the mostly abandoned cell block with only emergency lights. This part of the prison was rarely used, only a handful of cells being used of the hundreds here. It was, consequently, the perfect place to have "lessons". No one could hear you scream and if they did, the humans and aliens locked up in here could care less.

Suddenly the lights flickered on, one by one, down the corridors. A few disgruntled voices could be heard from prisoners who were awaken by the loud crackling lights as they came on and then had a loud hum to them. Down the hallway, the echo of footsteps.

"Finally," Palso muttered as he looked at the lone prison guard, "About time, I pissed myself!"

"That's not his problem," came another voice from behind in the shadows that entered behind the guard a moment later, "And neither is it mine."

"Oh by the Force," Palso complained, "Anyone but you!"

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you," Airen Cracken responds as an aide follows him in with a lone Special Forces Trackers Unit coming to stand across from the aide on the other side of the door. After the cell door is locked, the prison guard is walked away by two other Trackers commandos while a fourth Trackers commando stands outside the cell with the keys.

"I take it this isn't a recruitment offer to join the army," Palso adds.

"No," Airen said matter-of-factly, putting a circular noise inhibitor on the metal table; he activated it, waited a moment, then nodded to the aide standing behind him and off to the side; Airen sat down and put a stack of folders down on the metal table in front of him and then looked across the table to Palso, Airen's eyes glancing at the broken stun baton on the floor. The spymaster looked up to Jim, "Another lesson I see and another fake excuse to hide his abuse of authority."

"So insightful and caring of you," Palso responded as the aide picked it up and retreated back to the corner.

"Don't test your luck, Palso," the spymaster replied.

"What do you need done, Airen?" Jim said with frustration, "Can't you see I am busy here?"

"Busy," Airen took a smell of the air, "Yes, I can smell."

"You stay locked up for a whole day and see if you can hold it," Palso retorted.

"My time is short Corellian," Airen said roughly, "So I will make this quick and easy."

"Good," Palso replied, "I hate long waits."

"We have a situation near Kashyyyk," the Contruum native said, "We need an evac of VIPs under the most secret conditions. No paper trail."

"Word is its called the Kashyyyk Spearhead Pocket," Jim clarified.

"Word travels fast for a prison cut-off from the outside galaxy," Airen summarized.

"Last bunch of inmates were from Pocket K who fled to the Rogue States," Palso replied, not hiding the secret, "Got picked up for the Big D and dumped here until court martials can proceed. Bad timing, if you ask me. If they waited a few more weeks, they could have been free men in the States with the break from the New Republic."

"Let's cut to the chase," Airen said, "You tell me why I am here."

Palso smirked, "You need someone like me to bust through that Imperial blockade of Kashyyyk. And you know I am he only one who can do it."

"Only one I can trust, yes," Airen corrected, "Continue."

"You insult my Corellian soul and lie to me about trust," Palso countered, but wasting no time, continued, "The New Republic is at peace, temporarily, with the Empire. You know the Imps will play you hard and dirty during this so called cease fire, so you need the VIPs out ASAP. No paper trail to let the Empire know it was the NR and no way to trace it back to the NR. Any mercenary contract or bounty hunter tag would smell of NRI black money. So you need to make it believable. Either way, you know the Imps will know its you. But play the long game with the political fallout and you'll come out on top."

"Continue," Airen said.

"I break out of here," Palso nodded at the stack of folders, "With a crew. We make it look believable. We do some odd jumping here and there to throw off our trail from the New Republic Starfleet and the New Republic Security Force that you will not alert of our plan. So we will running from the same people we will be helping. You will play it rough here, knowing we may lose some crew, you may lose some of your people. But the plan has to work, so your willing to let 19 year-old New Republic Johnny with a blaster rifle and fresh out of boot camp die if that means the VIPs get out safe. The pros outweigh the cons, you can worry about ethics later over a cold drink. We get in, get the VIPs, get out. Make it look like it was Underworld payment on pickup to throw off the Imps a bit, at least slow them down. Maybe Solo owes a debt they want to collect on."

"Good plan," Airen replied, pushing the folders towards Jim.

"But we are not done," Palso said without touching the folders.

Airen smiled, "Ah, yes, payment."

"Record clean," Palso added boldly not a moment later, "Imp and NR. No trace, I am a free man. Fifteen thousand up front per crew."

Airen shook his head, "Too expensive. Fifteen thousand per crew mission complete. NR record cleaned."

"Cost for the Imp record?" Palso asked.

"For the whole crew?" Airen asked.

Jim nodded, "Whole crew."

"Your protocol droid," Airen responded.

"Over my dead body," Jim replied, adding, "No one gets Walking Library."

"The information he has is---"

"Mine," Palso responded firmly, "No droid. And he's not a protocol droid."

"That's the point, Jim," Airen replied.

"No droid. No Imp record, no mission. Five thousand up front, ten thousand upon completion of the mission. Fifteen total for each crew. Fully stocked and equipped vessel. Final offer."

Airen sighed heavily, "Only if you were not bluffing."

"I don't have time for that, remember? I'm busy pissing myself in an abandoned cell block."

"Fine. Five thousand up front for each crew, ten thousand for each crew upon mission completion. Imp and NR record wiped, no trace. No droid."

"Agreed," Palso replied.

"Now," Airen sled the files across the table, "Your crew. Six plus you."

"Hunk of Junk?" Jim inquired, immediately recognizing the crew count.

Airen nodded, "Yes. I put out the word. Talon Karrde seems to know where your ship and droids are that my entire staff and agency can't find with almost unlimited resources."

"Friends in low places," Palso replied, pushing four files forward.

"That was quick," Airen responded, picking up the files, but hesitated before handing them to the aide, "I said six. There's only four here."

"Four is all I need," Jim replied.

"Your funeral," Airen replied, then handed the folders off to the aide behind him. The other folders Airen stuffed away in a briefcase before standing up, "We were never here."

"Naturally," Palso replied, "Are we square?"

Airen raised an eyebrow, "About?"

"The Imps," Jim said.

Airen shrugged, "You made a choice. Some understood it, others didn't. You served us at the Battle of Endor, went AWOL after the battle. Then you served the Imperials. My suggestion? Hang low for a while afterwards. Maybe getting the VIPs will change some minds."

"Your mind?" Palso asked.

"What do you think?" Airen responded, then took the noise inhibitor and turned it off, filing it away into a pocket, "Oh-five hundred tomorrow," Airen said, "Be at the East Platform or be dead. I hear the warden likes to start his days early."

As the trio went for the door and the commando outside opened the gate up, Jim tugged at the chains that kept him to the table, "A little help?"

Airen turned around and smiled, "Like you said, Palso, we need to make it believable. Call it a necessary concession for not giving me the droid."

"You are a cruel man," Palso replied as the cell door was closed.

"No," Airen responded outside the cell, receiving the broken stun baton from the aide, turning it on to make sure it works and then turning it off, and tossing it back into the cell onto the table, "I am a practical man. Good night, Mr. Palso."

The sound of feet departed and soon the lights were off again.


**


Palso clenched his teeth again in pain as the stun charge raced through his body. Again, the wookiee held him. Again the human stood by the open cell. Again, the Rodian watched in sick delight.

"You started early today," Palso responded.

"The NRI did not show up yesterday. A pity. They had to cancel. I was hoping for you to reject their offer so I could arrange a firing squad for your death. But," the Rodian chuckled, "This will do," the alien rolled up his sleeves, one by one (one arm being fully robotic), and then nodded to the wookiee, who dropped Palso back onto the chair, "You see, I don't like being told no," the Rodian slammed a fist across Jim's face that sent him across the floor, the chains of the table stopping any further movement; the alien then kicked Jim in the stomach next, "And I find it easier to express myself before I enjoy breakfast---I don't want to ruin a good day."

The Rodian kicked Palso again in the stomach as he lay there; then the warden nodded to the wookiee who stood Jim up, allowing the Rodian to give another punch into Jim's stomach.

"My commando had my undying loyalty if they did what they were told to do. I would do anything for them. We had a saying within my platoon: the only good Imp was a dead Imp. My commandos that failed me in the field? They were disposed of like an Imp. When I lost my arm in battle and when Alliance Special Forces heard of my rigid methods with my men, I looked to a friend in the command ranks. My SpecForce unit was the best! Best kill ratio, best mission accomplishment rate, lowest casualties rate! Training incidents were high when my commandos failed me. But stats and awards can do so much when someone doesn't understand what they don't know."

The Rodian crossed Jim's face with a solid hook, then another one, followed by a stomach punch, and finally two jabs to the face with solid blows. The end result was Palso's bloodied face and bruised body.

"So my friend arranged for the investigation to end. Arranged for my deeds as a SpecForce platoon lieutenant to be honored. Arranged for me to get transferred here after Endor and right after this hell hold opened up."

Palso spit out blood from his mouth, "What are you saying? You have daddy issues?" Jim responded before the Rodian yelled in anger and delivered a roundhouse kick to Jim's face. The Rodian looked to the wookiee next and the large alien lifted Palso up by the stun baton at the neck, the volts running through the Corellian's body.

"My father expected the best. The last time he hit---" the Rodian shook his head, "You failed me, Jim Palso. You betrayed the New Republic to the Empire. Your sentence is now due and as the duly appointed warden, I am hereby held by law to hold you accountable."

The alien grabbed the vibroblade that was up against the wall and looked at Jim, Do you have any last words?"

"Finally!" Jim barked and in that moment, the Corellian saw the look of confusion and then terror as Jim brought his legs up and withdrew the broken stun baton from inside his boot, hidden by his pants leg. He activated the broken baton and slammed it into the wookiee's stomach, the beast howling in pain and falling backwards, the process ripping the chains from the table from the massively strong alien. As alien and human fell to the ground, Palso pushed the baton harder into the beast. Soon, the alien stopped moving as fast and slowed down, then stopped with a whimper as his body went limp.

"NO!!!!" the Rodian barked and charged with his sword; Palso withdrew the now bloody and broken stun baton from th dead wookiee and rolled to the side as the Rodian came slashing down. Palso took a chance and held out his hands----

The blade cut through the longer than usual metal chain between the cuffs, setting Jim truly free. The mercenary was up and thrw the broken stun baton at the charging human guard. The stun baton impaled the guard in the chest and stopped his charge to a stumbling fall forward. Jim had few seconds to rejoice in his victory as he found himself jumping onto the metal table to avoid the crazed control-freak warden. As the blade swept under his feet as he landed onto the table, Jim wasted no time in rolling off the table to avoid another blow from the sword that left its mark on the table, before collecting the broken---but long---chain that once held him prisoner to the table. He swung it around and caught the warden's sword and yanked, pulling the Rodian and his sword down to the ground.

Wasting no time, Jim ran up to the warden and delivered a blow to his face with a kick before dropping to the ground and taking the sword from his loosened hands. Jim then sliced off the warden's sword hand, the alien yelling in pain. With the Rodian stunned in pain, Jim threw the sword to the far side of the room before collecting the chain around the warden's neck and under his armpits and behind his back, before slamming the alien into the metal table and wrapping the chain around the table leg.

"You will pay for this inmate! You will pay for this!" the Rodian yelled.

Palso walked over to the broken stun baton and withdrew it from the dead guard's body, before walking over to the warden. Jim watched the Rodian's eyes grow big.

Jim mocked the alien's words from yesterday, "Neglect and underfunding can really be hazardous to your health."

"You will burn in hell for this, Jim Palso!"

"You first," Jim said and he put the stun baton in between a section of the wrapped chains on the Rodian's body. He then turned on the baton and watched as the dangerous baton washed energy over the warden's body and was amplified by the metal chains and table, quickly causing the warden to start to scream as the energy raced through his body and started cooking him from the outside.

Palso didn't watch. He just walked out of the cell and towards the nearest guard locker room. He needed a change of clothes.


**


It was still dark outside in the early morning hours, which was good. By now, the whole prison was on alert. The warden and two guards were found murdered and the prisoners in the abandoned cell block had been released to a chaos zeal. The few inmates wouldn't get far, they would soon be cornered and captured. But it served Jim's purposes as he looked at his guard borrowed chrono: 30 minutes to get to the East Platform.

Palso kept the ruse going as he ran through the prison, following other groups of guards in his uniform and riot gear that matched their's for a bit, before breaking away and heading the way he had to go. Back and forth with each new patrol of guards before he reached the level he knew his handpicked crew to be at. He let the old rusty jail keys dangle from his free hand as he approached the first cell.

It was time to go........


TAG @TheAdmiral , @TheSilentInfluence , @Mitth_Fisto , @Sarge

 

IC: R3-TJ
The Clak'dor V Redemption


It was dark. Dark and quiet. Not really dark, though. There was a light fixture, but TJ had powered down his optical sensors to conserve power.

He sat still, thinking. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in the prison cell. The guards had deliberately scrambled his internal chronometer. They had also drained his batteries to the point that all he could sustain was a trickle of current to maintain his memory banks. I can't do a kriffing thing without some juice, he thought. He wouldn't even be able to maintain his memory banks much longer unless they recharged him soon. So he sat quietly, an old tune from years and years ago stuck in his mind.



His passive sensors detected a faint vibration through the floor. Footsteps? He shunted a trickle of power to optical sensors as the cell door opened. Two humans entered, a prison tech and a guard. The tech was carrying a portable charger. "Hey trash can, feeding time."

TJ sensed an opportunity. Maybe he could trick the guards into thinking he was in greater need of electricity than he really was. In a moment he charged up his internal capacitors, nearly draining his battery dry. The tech popped open one of TJ's access panels and grunted in surprise. "This thing's almost dead. It'll need three times as much power as I expected. There's probably a short in the wiring, letting the charge bleed off. Well, I'm not fixing that."

The guard snickered. "Yeah, that'd be too much like work, earning your paycheck. Can't do that. What's the point of keeping this thing, anyway?"

The tech hooked up the charger, allowing a slow current into the droid's battery. "The hell would I know? Orders are, don't wipe it, keep its memory banks up, and mind your own business. If I had to guess, I'd say this thing saw something it wasn't supposed to, and somewhere somebody is using it for blackmail. If that's what it is, it's worth our heads to do as we're told."

"Waste of space, that's what I say. When are we gonna get some worthwhile prisoners in here? I want a Twi'lek chick, a purple one, slavegirl costume is optional."

"You're a pervert, Krod. That's enough power for now, let's go."

The precious amps stopped flowing. The humans left TJ alone in the cell again. He shunted the charge he had hidden in his capacitors back into his battery. Now he had more power than the guards knew about. Not enough to do much, still only a percent of his normal operating capacity, but enough to investigate his surroundings.

It was a jail cell. The door was locked, and there were no controls on the inside. There was also the light fixture, and a lens that was surely a surveillance camera. That was all. Not much to work with.

Tampering with the security camera would undoubtedly set off an alarm. But the light fixture looked primitive; it would be simple to unscrew the cover and access the wiring, which could get him back up to full charge. How could he access it without being observed on the surveillance system?

TJ put more power into his optical sensors, doing a full holographic scan of the jail cell. In a matter of seconds, he had constructed a virtual 3-d model of the cell, including himself, parked in the center of the room. The model easily converted into a hologram, which he projected straight at the security camera.

A few minutes passed as he waited to see if the camera had detected anything unusual. No alarms, no guards, nothing. Good. Careful to maintain alignment between his holographic projection and the camera, he rolled across the cell to the light fixture. Unscrewing the cover and leeching into the wiring was insultingly simple for an experienced astromech. He drew power from the wiring slowly; too much might cause a noticeable drop in the prison electrical grid, which could bring attention. He sat patiently, gradually building up his energy reserves as he refined the next step in his plan.

The virtual model he was constructing took all the hi-def detail he could manage. He doubted it would fool anyone up close, but it ought to look good enough through the security camera.


Time passed. TJ wondered how long it would be until his next feeding time. Electrical power was critical for his health, but it wouldn't be long before he'd need something more nutritious to go with it.


Finally, he was fully charged. How many hours had it taken? Or days? I really need to get my chronometer fixed!

Who was watching the surveillance camera? Anybody? Nobody?

Let the winds bring me Krod, he thought, and activated the new model with his holoprojector.

A purple Twi'lek appeared, wearing a slavegirl costume that barely concealed her naughty bits. She swayed seductively before the cell security camera, and sang.

Happy Lifeday to you...
Happy Lifeday... to you...



She was turning the simple children's tune into something else entirely, twisting and writhing in a sensuous dance as she breathily sang the innocent words.

Happy Lifeday... Krod the prison guard
Happy Lifeday... to... you...

TJ positioned himself against the wall next to the door and sent the girl dancing seductively across to the far side of the cell. Moments later, the cell door opened and Krod the guard rushed in, eyes fixed on the purple apparition. Sparks flew from TJ's arc welder into the guard's butt cheek, volts and amps carefully calibrated to knock a human unconscious. "Utinni, motherkriffer!" he shouted.

When the spasms stopped, TJ started grabbing things. Stun baton? Useless to him, but its power cell was fully charged, so he drained it into his battery, replenishing the juice his arc welder had used. Comm link? If somebody found the guard and that was missing, they'd know he had it, so he left it, but not before accessing and copying all the codes, frequencies, ID's, and preprogrammed signals it held. Binders? Cuff his wrists behind his back. Code cylinders...? No code cylinders! This prison must be too ancient for those; the guard only had old-fashioned keys, so he grabbed them. Wallet? Jackpot! Cash, credit card, picture ID, and all the usual garbage humans kept on their persons. That went into his storage compartment.

Time was wasting. He rolled out of the cell, into the hallway, and scanned both ways. The coast was clear. He searched the menu he'd copied from the comm link, found the signal he was looking for, and closed the cell door behind him.

All I have to do now is find the starport and pick a ship. Nobody ever expects a droid to steal a ship.


'Cause I'm as free as a Jawa
And this Jawa you cannot change
Oh, oh, oh, oh
And the Jawa you cannot change
And this Jawa, you cannot change
Wind knows, I can't change


TAG: @Bravo @TheAdmiral @Mitth_Fisto @TheSilentInfluence and anyone else who wants out of their cells

 

IC: Lando Calrissian
Hunk of Junk, hyperspace


Calrissian leaned back in the pilot's seat.

"Ya know, I bet I could get Palso to sell me this ship!" he whistled softly, "It's quite the ride. He's been holding out on me."

The retort of the R3-series astromech that was plugged into the Navigational & Communications station with its data probe stick told Lando a concerning question.

Lando chuckled as he glanced over his right shoulder at the droid, "No, no, Bugger. Not the droids. Palso would not know what to do with himself if you two left him. Just the ship."

"I highly doubt Captain Palso would part with his ship, Mr. Calrissian," Walking Library said matter-of-factly as he crossed over from the Engineering & Damage Control station in the left rear of the cockpit behind the pilot station, across Bugger at the Navigational & Communications station, and took a seat in the co-pilot seat; the TXC-170 Repair Droid looked to his left at Lando, "Not with your piloting skills, to say the least."

Lando put a hand across his chest, "Hey! Watch the pride, Library!"

"You watch the ship, Mr. Calrissian!" Library retorted back with a flash of anger in his robotic voice, "Karrde said this hyperspace route was stable. It was a good thing I was here to save us from that debris! No major structural damage to the Hunk of Junk, although you will have to explain to Captain Palso why paint is missing off the port rear of the ship."

"He said stable...ish," Lando replied, holding up a finger in defense, "Not completely stable. This hyperspace route has not been used in decades! It was put on the no fly list years before the Clone Wars."

"And Talon Karrde provided us this hyperspace route to get around both Imperial and New Republic sensors and blockades because you were a good pilot."

"I am a good pilot," Lando corrected, "Were is past tense."

"My point exactly."

Lando rolled his eyes at the repair droid as he corrected himself in the pilot's seat, "How much further?"

There was a short pause, the whistles and beeps of an astro droid, then Walking Library said, "Bugger says thirty minutes."

"Good," Lando said, then flipped the comm switch for the gun turrets, "Micko?"

"Yeah, Boss?" came the reply from the Klatooinian henchman over the comlink from the dorsal turret.

"Pay attention up there," Lando said, "Both you and Tips! The next time something hits this ship, I am taking it out of your both your paychecks. You got me?"

"Yeah boss," came the Klatooinian's reply, less energetic than before.

"You got it Lando," came Tip's reply, a Red Nikto henchman, who manned the ventral turret.


No TAG

 

IC: Rishta Ravvel
Watching Anarchy



The prison was the wardens own private preserve, and they were the prey that was kept stocked. Pacing in his cell Rishta Ravvel could feel the tension as something was going on out there. Perhaps it was another revolt? Prisoners liked to revolt like Rishta like to fight, sometimes Warden would let Rishta free to end a riot just to enjoy the show. He didn't mind of course, it was a good outlet for his own inner frustrations and the extra food he got kept him from wasting away.

It was too bad he hated this life. His life.

If he had it in him to be like some of the weak ones here and take and his own life, well he had thought about it a couple of times. Just couldn't bring himself to do such a thing, maybe he was just too depressed. Meh, maybe.

Scratching at his chin he watched as a guard scurried by shouting about escaped prisoners and asking who was in charge. . .now that the warden was dead.

Hmm. Warden was dead? The preserve didn't have a master, without a clear leader. . .riot actually began to make sense. He hated it here, and he didn't really deserve to be here anyway. His world wasn't even part of the Republic. If he escaped and went home, found a mate and settled down in the wilds to return to her once a year. . .no one would ever find him or punish him. He would only be in trouble if he stayed in Rebel space.

Rishta had hoped to keep searching the stars a few more cycles, but prison wasn't enjoying the stars. And being hunted was. . .tedious. That was when he had an idea.

It was a wonderful, awful idea. A wonderfully awful half-baked idea. Escape. Go to Imp space. Play a few more years as peace lasted, then go home if Rebels advance. White shells no fun, but stay out of their way and Rishta might make fun living. After all, Rishta had only promised the Warden he wouldn't try to escape, if the Warden was dead - he had outlived that promise.

Stupid idea though, Rishta no fly ships. Rarely was one made Rishta can fit in to fly, and controls always so fragile. Turning away from the hall he retreated. Sitting on his pile of blankets and bedding in a corner on the hard floor he waited in a sulk. Soon this would be over, and Rishta get to know new warden. See if Rishta life get better, or worse.

Then Rishta see sight that makes his ears perk up! Droid trundled past cell.

He really felt like an idiot now, how could Rishta forget the most simple thing! He didn't need to be able to fly a ship! Just needed one he could fit inside and steal a droid that could fly it for him!

Going up to the cells bars Rishta for the first time here decided to try and escape. He looked left and right, listening for the sounds. Not hearing anything he settled into an old workout routine. Lifting cell door and dropping it. Only this time, he wasn't going to drop it. He strained to lift it further, and further as finally he began to hear the screech of metal as it began to give.

With a final push outward the door broke from its ancient track and clattered loudly to the hallway floor. Stepping out he turned to the right where he had seen the guard go, deeper into the prison complex. Only the guard wasn't gone, he was just returning back this way to secure a route or something.

The wide eyed blue Twi'lek male stared at him, mouth agape. Frozen where he was two cells down toward the doors at that end of the hallway, just coming back with a riot shield and stun baton. Rishta shook his finger side to side at the man, telling him no before waving for him to back away.

"This is my side. That is your side. My side. Your side." he simply stated with slow hand gestures. The man finally snapped out of it and charged, jamming the stun baton in his stomach as he stood there waiting. Taking it.

Reaching down he grabbed onto the still active baton, his hand closing around the Twi'lek's hand as well as the heft of the stick before slowly pulling it away and up. Lifting the little man into the air before him as he slowly shook his head as the other was backpedaling through air frantically. He stopped when he noticed the warm acrid scent of someone loosing their bowels and whimpering in his grasp.

Distastefully snorting he head-butted the man, leaving him a limp rag doll that he pulled the shield off of as well as well as keys and badge and commlink. Nothing else was going to be useful to him. Not like he could hide if someone saw him in his prison garb, and this man's clothes certainly wouldn't fit him. Tossing the body and the rest into his cell, tossing the door inside ontop of the man afterwards, he turned away to head to where he remembered there being ships.

All he had to do, was find a ship, find a droid, escape. Simple as that. The rest would just need a little time and a little luck to make sure he stayed ahead of any bounty-hunters or Rebel law-men.

TAG: @Sarge , @Bravo , @TheSilentInfluence , @TheAdmiral

 

IC: Jim Palso
New Republic Clak'dor Federal Prison Colony, ruins of the Clak'dor V Prison Colony; Outer Rim Territories, 6.5 ABY


The 29 year-old Palso was whistling as he walked past the various cells, clattering them with his stun baton. The inmates cheered as they saw him. He jogged up a small flight of steps and his whistling suddenly came to a stop as he saw Rishta finish his business with a poor guard. The alien seemed rather occupied with going the same way he was headed, so Jim had to call out to him as he closed the gap.

"It's called thank you," Jim said as he came alongside the beast, "And yes, you're welcome," Palso continued where the poor guard was at previous and, inserting the rusty key and turning, followed by swiping the stolen ID badge, he waited for the row of four lights to go from red to green. When they did, he pulled down the four old levers and suddenly cell doors opened across this whole cell block.

"And they can thank me, too," Palso said to himself as a thunderous yell arose as prisoners were set free. Turning, he looked at Rishta, "There's one way off this rock, Rishta. Everything else will not make it past the anti-air defenses, but my ride will. You want off this suck hole?"

Palso didn't wait for an answer as he walked past the beast and continued towards the East Platform.

Two guards suddenly appeared out of a side office and Palso quickly took on the one with his own stun baton---the other, well, all Palso heard was Rishta's growl and then a scream followed by a gurgle of what sounded like blood.

He didn't need to turn around.

Jim continued on, noticing that little astromech had the same idea he had. Jim knew that droid wasn't NR or repurposed Imp, so it had to be the rumored astro droid the Warden had locked up in this place. No one had ever seen it a course, but rumor was there was a little astro droid locked up somewhere in the prison that had a "special purpose". Only got enough juice to keep its memory banks operating and keep whatever secret data it had safe.

"HEY! DROID!" Jim called out to the astromech. When the droid gave him attention, Jim nodded towards the inmates' clothing room he stood by and which the droid had rolled past a few seconds prior. It was Palso's way of extending a branch of offer to join their break-out gang. But before the droid could react or do anything else, a group of 4 guards appeared at the far end in full riot gear.

Jim looked back over his shoulder to Rishta, "Could you could do the honors, my furry friend? I will get your personal effects."

Palso turned and opened the door to the clothing room; the inmates' clothing room held all of the inmates' clothing for this cell block, at least all the clothing you had on before you became an inmate. They were in labeled lockers. A single terrified guard was behind the mesh security fence covering the desk situated between a heavy metal wall on one side and a security door on the other side; a stun baton in his hands like a baseball bat.

The guard didn't realize who Jim was at first and said, "Oh thank the Force! I thought the whole prison was in a riot!"

"It will be, soon," Jim said, stalking up to the guard, "I need my effects."

"Wait a sec---" the guard started, but his conversation ended with his body revolting to the floor after Jim shocked him with his stun baton through the opening in the bottom of the security fence.

Palso had grabbed the guard before the man fell backwards too far to reach and Jim reached through the opening to retrieve the man's badge and special set of keys for the security door. Once retrieved, Jim calmly walked over to the security door---inserted the special key, swiped the card---and opened the door. He paused before he stepped in, hearing much more then what should have been just 4 guards. Maybe the rioting mob had made their way this far? Or maybe more guards arrived?

No matter. He had a job to do. If Rishta and that droid made it, all the better. If not, well, more credits for Palso after this rescue operation was done.

Stepping inside, he made sure to locate Rishta's things, put the metal box aside, and then found his own locker. He smiled when he opened the metal box, seeing his effects.

"Hello, hello," Palso said, smiling; by some idiotic NR law somewhere, all a prisoner's personal effect shad to be stored.

Including weapons.

Palso tore off his prison garb outfit and started getting dressed, the refreshing clothes putting a determined look on his face.

Games were over. The NR gave him a way out. He would do their dirty rescue mission. And then make them pay for they had one to him. All's fair in love and war.

Each strap furthered his determination. Each securing of the equipment meant another reason. And each weapon checked, loaded, and holstered ensured he would not fail.



He finally put on his hat, turned around and grabbed the two duffle bags of gear he found---one for Rishta and one he had found for that astro droid (he hopes)---and walked out the inmates' clothing room door. He had to walk over more than a few bodies---looked like a mini war zone between colliding inmates and prison guards. More than a few dozen on both sides: apparently those first 4 prison guards were just the opening salvo. In the distance a few prisoners were running ahead where the guards had come from.

Jim turned to see the beast and droid standing in the middle of the chaos. He threw a bag towards the beasts, "Your effects."

Jim dropped the bag at the droid's wheels, "You carry your weight, you have a place. No questions asked."

Palso then started stepping over the bodies: some wounded, some dead, some unconscious on both sides of the conflict.

He came to a stop at the ancient cell door leading to the upper levels of the prison; the cell door had been ripped off. Palso turned with his head lowered at his two new comrades as he withdrew his S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol and held it at his side as he smiled under the brim of his hat as he raised his head, "Lets get out of here."





The East Platform was a fully abandoned part of the prison complex. The whole section had suffered massive structural damage from a comet or other fast flying object at some point. There wasn't much left beyond the remains of the platform that still clung to the structure of the floating prison. It would be the least likely place for anyone to escape from and one of the least guard places.

There were two others on his list. The droid not included, but a bonus addition. Maybe whatever secrets he had in his memory banks were worth something on the black market? At least if the droid turned out to be a freeloader. And Rishta? Well Palso owed him one a few months back and plus it was good to have extra muscle on a operation like this.

Tala Ashe and Astrea "Wraith" Igarashi; Tala, a mercenary turned Rebel with a colorful resume and Astre, an ex-Imperial with a reputation that only followed a name like "Wraith". He knew they would find him, so he wasn't worried about that. They knew the game and how to play it.

One last person on that list: John Quick. Gambler & drunk with a record as a thief and general low life with stints in & out of local Imperial jails and the courts before 0 BBY. Joined the Rebellion after Yavin to escape Imperial authorities, fought at Hoth in the infantry, and was found trading secrets to the Empire for gambling money to pay his debts after Endor. He was a real piece of work. But one Jim knew he could trust---it could be said that Palso was Quick's only friend.


TAG @TheAdmiral , @TheSilentInfluence , @Mitth_Fisto , @Sarge

 

IC: R3-TJ
Nobody Notices Droids

"Hey, droid!" a human yelled at him. TJ scanned the man; he didn't seem like anything out of the ordinary. But if he wanted out of the prison too, he might be useful. The smart move would be to play the part of an ordinary astromech and take advantage of whatever opportunities the man offered him, intended or not. TJ replied with a positive-sounding whistle and beep.



A guard squad appeared, rushing down the hall with riot shields locked into a line and stun batons upraised. TJ rolled back against a wall and tried to look inconspicuous. As usual, he was ignored, because everybody knows an astromech is not a combat droid. Besides, the guards had more obvious threats to deal with, like a massive dark-furred being at least triple TJ's height. It was a felinoid, probably a Trianii or Cathar... not that it mattered, all those giant cat-people are pretty much the same anyway.

Reinforcements were already moving in behind the shield wall. Maybe I need to make myself useful, he thought. The guards were advancing in rhythmic lockstep, which almost made things too easy. TJ activated his tractor beam, tightly focused on one foot of a guard in the middle of the front row. The man stumbled and fell, and a couple of the reinforcements pressing on behind were forced forward and stumbled over the fallen shieldman. That opened up a hole in the shieldwall that ought to make things easier for the Trianii.

Problem! One of the guards in the second row was raising a decksweeper: a heavy wide-bore stun weapon designed to take down rioters half a dozen at a time. One shot from that rifle could turn the battle, and not in a way that was to TJ's advantage. He quickly refocused his tractor beam on the weapon and yanked it downward just as the guard pulled the trigger. The stun blast impacted the tangle of fallen guards, knocking them out before they could regain their footing. TJ locked his legs to the floor and switched his tractor to a low frequency pulsing mode which vibrated the decksweeper and ripped it out of the guard's hands. Another modulation of the tractor beam sent the weapon arcing through the air toward the enormous cat-man. TJ whistled in a "Here, catch!" noise and hoped the furry monster knew what to do with the riot gun.


TAG: @Mitth_Fisto @Bravo

 

IC: Astrea "Wraith" Igarashi
Calodan, Corvus



Astrea "Wraith" Igarashi looked down at her winning's on the table. The bag of credits was heavy and in her eyes, justly won. She leaned back in her chair in the almost empty Cantina and thought for a moment, just how things had led her to be here on this remote, desolate backwater planet. It was a nice hiding place. Away from the New Republic and whatever was left of the Empire. Astrea did not really have an issue with either, unless they happened to get in her way. She hated it when people got in her way.

But still, Corvus was a quiet place. So long as she kept her head low and out of sight. So long as she didn't draw to much attention from winning all these credits. Astrea glanced up as one of the waitresses, Zoe came over to her table and tossed her a smile as she started to wipe it down.

"Does that mean I have to leave now?"



"Yes, what alleyway are you planning on sleeping in tonight?" Zoe teased. She reached over to grab the bag of credits but Astrea was quicker. She smirked at Zoe.

"You're lucky I like you so much." Astrea leaned back in her chair.

"You know you need to be careful right?" Zoe answered. "You could walk outside those doors and get mugged."

Astrea laughed. "Yeah. You know why my nickname is Wraith right?"

"You know stupidity killed the Bantha right?" Zoe fired back.

Astrea waved her off and pocketed her credits, taking out a few and handing them to Zoe. "Sure. But I'm smarter then a Bantha." She said, and then for a moment looked troubled, as if she was thinking about something she would rather forget. Like fighting in the Battle of Endor. Like losing her soldiers...

"You had better leave." Zoe warned. "Thanks for the credits though." She smiled at her and Astrea nodded, breaking away from her thoughts.

"See you tomorrow Zoe." Astrea said,and then she started to walk to the back door. She would rather leave unseen, then have to deal with the soldiers and guards here.With people just as unsavoury as herself.

It's darker out back too. I can slip into the shadows and no one will know.

Tag: @Bravo

 

IC: Rishta Ravvel
Watching Anarchy

He had just finished tidying up his mess when he heard a voice telling him. . .it was thank you? Looking he saw what might be a familiar human. Yes, this one he had seen before. Struts tall like a cub after a first kill and still thinks they have proved themselves master of their domain. Not realizing they had merely bested a pest and not a threat.

The human, name escaped him at the moment, kept blabbering. What did make him pause was this one did believe himself when saying that he had the one safer way off this prison. "Fine, Jim." Finally he remembered what the annoying little humans name was. Or, well, at least he hadn't been corrected.

There was a slight delay to their travel plans, but as Jim dealt with his Rishta dealt with his own. Palm flat he had struck forward at the guards neck, only instead of rebounding he had found purchase. Purchase and warm ooze. Growling in frustration he shoved his arm to the side as the guards burbling body slipped off his hand, leaving it dripping crimson.

Going along they came to a room Jim wanted into and four guards came into view. "No more cells." he growled out, deep and low rumble. Ignoring Jim's comment about 'fury friend' bit. The four guards had their riot shields and stun batons raised, one or two wouldn't be a problem, but four? Rishta was suddenly not liking his chances of getting out of this one. . .and then one of the guards tripped and fell on air.

Well honed instincts saw the opening and he knew he had to break the front shield wall as well as dent the group behind. Diving into the opening he came up using his appropriated riot shield as a battering ram attached to his arm. The first blow crumpled the guard on the right that was all alone, the spin the other way took out the other. The third and last one standing tried, it was sad really as Rishta blocked with his shield and then reached over the top of the guards shield to grab him by the neck and shake until a pop sounded and the guard went limp.

Knowing he had taken too long he turned and hurled the body at the advancing waves only to find several of them down already and a weapon towards him. Not aimed at him, but actually flying through the air to him. Catching it he looked confusedly at the scene before him, then back at the whistling droid before giving a feral growling grin. Leaping forward he used the riot gun as a club, bashing over the top of riot shields as he punched and kicked, and soon other inmates started joining the fray. Rishta took a few of them down as well.

He was the teeth of a whirling devil, any that came near were going to go down as he bashed and banged his way through the masses down the hall and back up again. It wasn't much longer as the storm of combat moved too far afield that Jim finally came out of the locker room. Catching his effects he quickly opened the container and removing his prison garb, quickly began getting dressed.

Once ready he followed after, for now he left his weapon in the bin as he carried it. No need to make himself a larger target.

TAG: @Bravo , @Sarge

 

OOG:

• "Game over man," Billy said quietly, "Game over!" is a reference to Aliens (1986).

• "You made a choice," Palso simply responded, "Such is life." is a reference to Daniel Foote's words from the American Civil War, in which he said, "Four men are just passing with a dead man for the dead house. He was able to walk around this morning. Disease Typhoid fever. Such is life." --- The 83rd Pennsylvania Volunteers in the Civil War (Schellhammer, 2003)

******


IC: Jim Palso
New Republic Clak'dor Federal Prison Colony, ruins of the Clak'dor V Prison Colony; Outer Rim Territories, 6.5 ABY


Palso used the thick pillar as cover, the swarm of blaster bolts slamming into the thick beam. For all its thickness, the smuggler could feel the heat from the blaster bolts sucking into the metal material and---worrisome---thought the beam would give way and this would be the Corellian's end. But, like with all blasters or other more primitive "slug" projectile rifles, you wanted to conserve ammunition and let the weapon cool. For blasters, ammunition was not as critical issue as was cooling the weapon. E-11's, which these "elite" prison guards carried, came with 100 shots on a standard power cell (500 shots if you had the credits to get a plasma cartridge). So it was only natural that the blaster fire would die down; the catch would be when.

Palso kept them his trusty S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol raised near his chest on the ready to respond. Once he heard the blaster fire slacken---he waited...and waited. Then the blaster fire stopped. He could hear the three guards whispering to each other, each one taking slow steady steps forward, most likely their weapons scanning in all forward directions. There was a beast-like growl somewhere in the distance and unseen by the naked eye through the debris of the abandoned East Platform's interior crushed & mangled corridors where the swirling of air through cracks and holes to the outside world caused the gentle rumble of debris across the corridor's hopeless interior, the growl being echoed off of the mangled remains of a long-forgotten traumatic event. The inconsistent power supply caused what working lights to flicker and long forgotten exposed power cables to flicker. The red emergency lightening masked everything in an eerie glow of terror. Every now and then a drop of water from a broken pipe onto the ground.

Another beast-like growl echoed throughout the jagged sounding aides, this time followed quickly be a startled report from an astromech droid in pure terror.

"BY THE FORCE!" snapped one of the guards and fired his blaster in that direction.

"Everyone just calm down! Put that bantha blaster away Billy!" commanded what appeared to be the leader of this trio of guards, "You are gonna hit one of the other patrols or a bolt is going to come back and hit us!"

"Sorry Victor," what appeared to be "Billy" said in reply.

"This is why the Sergeant made me Lance Corporal and not any of you yahoos," claimed this Victor character, "I am cool under fire."

Palso rolled his eyes. What a blowhard.

Victor kept talking, "Now Zack, are you sure you saw someone running over here?"

"Well...yeah, Victor. I thought I did," answered this Zack person.

Victor did not sound happy, "Look you idiots, abandoned or not, we just can't go around blasting things in here! We are on a budget for those blaster power packs---let alone we are going to bring unnecessary attention from the higher-ups. Now listen Zack, you probably did not see anything but a shadow and got everyone all spooked. Now, Billy, reach out to the other patrol in that direction---make sure you didn't hit anybody!"

"Yeah----yeah," Billy said, keying his ear comlink with throat mic, "Tech Three Patrol to Tech Two Patrol. Status check Tech Two on discharge of blaster fire."

Static.

"Tech Three to Tech Two. What is your status Tech Two?"

Static.

Billy looked at Victor, "Nothing, Vic."

"You are handling the mic wrong, you idiot," Victor said annoyed, keying his own ear comlink with throat mic, "Tech Three to Tech Two. Respond Tech Two."

Static.

"Bantha droppings!" Victor cursed, then changed channels, "Tech Three to Tech One."

"Tech One," came a growly voice.

"Staff Sergeant," Vic started, "Lance Corporal Victor Spacewalker."

"I know who you are, Lance Corporal!" came the staff sergeant's annoyed voice, "I thought I told you to keep comm chatter silent, unless an emergency?"

"Yes, sir, you did. But we heard a blaster discharge---" that was a slight revision of the truth, "---and lost contact with Tech Two after hearing a droid scream."

"We heard the same thing. I have a man going to check it out----"

Blaster fire could be heard suddenly over the comm, followed by barked orders in the heat of battle, yelling, and then---

Silence.

"Staff Sergeant?" came the corporal's voice; no reply, "Tech Three to Tech One, respond?" Nothing, "Anyone? Is anyone there? Tech Three to Tech Squad, respond anyone in Tech Squad!"

Nothing.

"Game over man," Billy said quietly, "Game over!"

"Keep it together!" Victor ordered, "Everyone just calm down."

"We are in trouble now man!" Billy said again.

"I said shut up private!" Victor commanded, "I need to think! Ah, ah, Zack, get in touch with Control. See what happened to Tech Squad. Maybe its just bad communication with all this metal."

Zack nodded, keying the comm, "Tech Three, Specialist Zack Bridgerroad, to Control."

"Control----" came a frantic reply, with yelling and orders being barked in the background.

Jim smiled. Apparently their plan had worked---mostly. The East Platform was supposed to be abandoned. Initially there were only two lowly prison guards standing sentry to the cautioned tapped off section. They were naturally easily disposed of. What Jim had not accounted for was a halfway decent contingent of infantry soldiers. Sounded like a company in strength with an old Imperial Sentinel-class Landing Craft painted in New Republic colors the only way off this prison as their ride in a secured hanger near the Warden's office. An insurance policy if the prison ever got invaded or went into a full revolt and lethal force was required. The only personnel in the whole prison that carried any type of lethal weapon were these troopers. Even the Warden only had a stun baton---but everyone knew he had a personal DL-18 Blaster Pistol in his office for "emergencies".

Whoever commanded the company must had seen combat or paid attention in officer training. Instead of focusing the trooper's response to the rioting, the company's commander had deployed the troopers in what appeared to be nine-personnel squads to sensitive areas---control tower, engineering, hangers & useable landing platforms, and the guards' barracks) and likely escape routes. It was the likely escape routes that landed the East Platform with a squad of these troopers. While a risk, it wasn't identified as a likely escape, and it appeared Palso & company got the FNG squad of the company with a seasoned NCO in charge. A training squad for the new recruits sprinkled with a seasoned Staff Sergeant & Sergeant and probably a Corporal who knew a thing or two as third-in-command. The rest were Privates, Specialists, and---in Victor's case---a rookie that showed promise and was promoted to Lance Corporal recently.

"Tech Three, Control. We have lost contact with Tech Two and Tech One. Can you identify if communications are down?"

The woman's voice was annoyed, "We have all cell blocks flooded in a riot, Specialist! Your job is to secure the East Platform. Our job is the prison. Contact your company commander about your communication issues. Control out!"

"Corporal---" Zack started.

Victor dismissed him with a waive, "I heard, I heard. Look, we need to regroup and---"

That was enough. Jim couldn't risk listening anymore---however entertaining it was. He turned around the blasted support beam and leveled his S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol at the trio that had long since done away with proper defense and securing of their surroundings.

"Oh Sith!" blurted Billy.

Palso released several rounds of blasterfire into the group and soon---with the exception of two stray shots from Victor in fearful reaction as he was gunned down---the three soldiers were down. Palso waited a moment as the smoke finished drifting away from the impact holes in the bodies then swirled his S-5 around in his hand before slamming it home into the holsters. One of the bodies still twitched, the soldier groaning in pain. Two blast holes---one shoulder, one chest---riddled his body. Jim walked over to the body as the man fingered for his E-11 that was out of hopeless reach of his dying hands. It was Billy.

"Please," Billy breathed.

Palso took off his hat and kept it in his left hand as he knelt down at the man's side, "It'll be over soon," Palso said simply to the dying man.

"Why?" Billy managed as his life ebbed away.

"You made a choice," Palso simply responded, "Such is life."

"I---I---am cold...." Billy attempted, but never finished, as the last of his life vanished from his body in a final exhale and his eyes stared out at Palso's face.

Jim closed the man's eyes and stood up. He put his hat on and didn't need to turn around to know that Rishta and the astromech were behind him. He hadn't learned the droid's name yet.

"Let's go," Palso said without turning around and walked past the three dead bodies towards the stairs in the distance that lead to the ruined East Landing Platform.


***

Palso made sure his E-22 Blaster Rifle was still tightly secured across his chest by the sling, gripped his hat in his left hand, and then JUMPED from the exposed support beam he stood on---across open air---and down into the exposed floor below, where he rolled to a stop. He had his S-5 out in his hand to check the connecting corridor, but found that the place was caved in long ago. Swirling the S-5 away into his holster, he turned and waved for the others to follow suit, and then put on his hat and climbed the maintenance latter to what remained of the East Platform. Reaching the top he was expecting to have to blow through the locks that should have been locked long ago but was surprised to find them unlocked. A careless worker's oversight? A late overtime night by a worker and he or she simply forgot to? Regardless, whoever it was---or wasn't---was hundreds of years ago in the past. Still, Jim drew his S-5 and pushed the hatch open slowly. The hatch was more forcefully swung open suddenly then he or the wind could have allowed and Palso found his S-5 in the face of a human and a DL-18 in his own face.

"Early," said the other human with a smirk.

"Always," Palso replied and as the human put his blaster pistol away, Palso followed suit and a free hand helped him up and out, "The Warden's blaster?" Palso asked.

John Quick shrugged as he took a sip from a stolen bottle of rum, "Figured the Warden wasn't in need of it. Or his drink or his weekend clothes---they fit just right," the man offered Palso a sip and the Corellian accepted, before handing the bottle back to Quick.

"There's our ride," Quick said after another sip of the liquor as he pointed to the sky as the Hunk of Junk closed in.

Soon the others were up and through the hatch; Quick had a understanding of association with Rishta; how Jim likened the relationship to was that Rishta wasn't going to kill Quick as long as Rishta did not want to kill Quick. Or at least that's how Quick explained. More than once Palso seriously doubted any further restraint on Rishta's side for keeping the low life alive---but somehow, someway, Quick was stil alive.

"What's up Rishta?" Quick said with his usual smug, cool tone, then the man did a lazy double take as he took a long sip of his whiskey bottle; swallowing with a gulp, Quick wiped the wetness from his mouth and then said to Jim, "Who's the droid?"

Palso glanced back, shrugging, "No idea. But he seems to have more free will than most droids in the prison. Lack of a memory wipe I figure."

Quick shrugged as he looked at the droid, "You sure he is not a spy?"

"Rumor was we had a droid in a cell."

"You think this droid is that droid!" Quick chuckled, "I want whatever you are smoking my friend! No way this trash can is that droid. No way man. Just look at it! It does not have any of the rumored markings---no blood stains from his fallen enemies, no human and Duro teeth on his dome from the luckless he hunted down as a bounty hunter, and where is the rocket launcher? Can't hide one of those things in that little body of his! Man, you probably got one of the cleaning droids. I wouldn't give a cleaning droid a memory wipe either!"

"I guess we'll have to see," Palso said as the landing ramp of his beloved ship lowered on final approach, "Walking Library can take a look at him when we get onboard." A fashionably dressed smuggler was standing on the landing ramp with a equally colorful cape swirling in the wind behind him.



"JIM PALSO!" Lando Calrissian boomed with a grin from the landing ramp, that then quickly turned into a frown, "You're not dead."

"Good to see you too Calrissian," Palso said with a roll of his eyes as he accepted the outstretched hand as the light freighter came to a hover a few inches from the debris of the half remnants of the East Landing Platform proper.

Lando pulled Palso onboard with a sudden smile and laugh as his cape blew in the wind and embraced the Corellian briefly, "Good to see you, you dirty Corellian!" the two departed from the short embrace and Lando tilted his head deeper inside, "Your droids are in the cockpit. I'll get the rest of this ragtag bunch!"

Jim nodded and disappeared deeper inside the ship. Lando looked at Rishta and extended a hand, "Come on big man! You are next!"


TAG @Mitth_Fisto , @Sarge , @TheAdmiral

 

A game NPC to tag along with us in this game.....


Photo Credit: Pinterest, Retrieved 12-05-2021

General


---Name: John Quick


---Species: Human


---Gender: Male


---Home World: Coruscant


---Age: 29


---Year of Birth: 23 BBY


---Year of Death: N/A


---Government or Political Cause Allegiance:

• Self as a gambler, drunk, and petty criminal
• Rebel Alliance (0 ABBY to 4 ABY)

Appearance


---Height: 5'10

---Weight: 187 lbs

---Skin Color: Light

---Eye Color: Brown

---Hair Color: Brown

---Tattoos and Body Piercings: Two gambler "joker" cards in color on right forearm, a skull of death with the Rebel symbol symbol under it in color on left shoulder

---Other Attributes: Scar across head, through hairline, and ends above right eye


Clothing, Equipment, & Weapons


---Professional Clothing: Stolen from the "Warden" at the ruins of the Clak'dor V Prison Colony; see photo


---Other Clothing: None


---Body Armor: None


---Primary Weapon: DL-18 Blaster Pistol (stolen from the "Warden")


---Secondary Weapon: Combat knife at small of back, sheathed sideways on back of blaster belt (stolen from the "Warden")


---Martial Arts: Military hand-to-hand combat skills


Personality


---Traits: Smug, cocky, out for himself


---Habits: Playing cards, smoking cigars or cigarettes to relax with a glass of whiskey or rum in his hand


---Favorite Foods: Anything he can eat


---Favorite Drinks: Anything booze


---Favorite Social Events: Gambling, watching holodramas


---Social & Cultural Likes: Free spirited, the world verses him


---Social & Cultural Dislikes: Control, order, restraint


Education & Skills


----Highest Education Level: High school


---Specialized Education: None


---Primary Professional Skill: Gambler & thief


---Secondary Professional Skill: Infantry soldier


---Life Experience Skills: Rebel Alliance infantry after 0 ABY - 4 ABY, various local Imperial jails and Imperial courts before 0 BBY


The Force


---Jedi, Sith, or Other: N/A


---Force Sensitivity: None


---Force Abilities: None


---Lightsaber: None


Biography


---Early Life, Education, & Family: None known. He doesn't speak of any family or upbringing. All anyone knows is that he graduated high school on Coruscant and spent the majority of his life as a gambler, drunk, and thief until age 23.


---Professional Life: Rebel Alliance Army; he fought during the Mid Rim Offensive & Mid Rim Retreat between 1 ABY & 3 ABY, as well as the Battle of Hoth in 3 ABY. His service record is far from clean with plenty of run-ins with the military police, but he did serve the Alliance faithfully and was a good soldier when fighting. When not fighting, he was a headache to control for his commanding officers. By 6 ABY, he was thrown in the New Republic's hellish ruins of the Clak'dor V Prison Colony after he was found trading secrets to the Empire for gambling money to pay his gambling debts.


---Traumatic Experiences: While the Mid Rim Retreat started a unhealthy change in John in regards to morals, ethics, and the Rebel Alliance towards the tail end of the Retreat, it was the Battle of Hoth that crushed his soul. During close quarters combat with Cold Weather Assault Stormtroopers, John suffered a head injury from a blast by a AT-ST in support of the stormtroopers, the same blast that left a scar down his head and wiped out most of his squad and only left him and two others alive. His comrades dragged him to safety and he was one of the last people to leave Hoth; he watched many of his comrades in the infantry get left behind on the base and captured by the Empire for the sake of the safety of the Alliance High Command structure. The sight, watching his comrades beg for them to come back to rescue them as they flew away on the last transport, has never left his memory.

 

IC: Tala Ashe
Jabiim, 6.5 ABY

Tala wiped the mud off her face as she stood up. There was a smoking crater close by where a powerful blast had struck and had kicked her to the muddy ground. Those mercs were handling big guns, probably stolen from an Imperial arms depot that had gotten abandoned when the Empire left. Or managed to dig out an abandoned Confederate one.

She would not be surprised if there were Stormies among the defenders. Despite the Empire surviving Palpatine’s death some Imperials decided to pursue other careers. Especially the ones stationed on backwater worlds where discipline had been lax to begin with.

It did not matter to her. Imperials, pirates, mercs (yes, she was aware of the irony and the hypocrisy), scum, she was going to fight them. The New Republic had its chance and blew it. They no longer needed her services, fine by her. There were enough battles that needed capable soldiers and she was such.

There was a metallic taste in her mouth. Tala spit, blood mixed with saliva. Must have bitten her tongue or her cheek. Not the first, won’t be the last. She started running forwards along with the other soldiers and mercs that made up the army of the local government. The fools were trying to stay independent and without the Empire or the New Republic they were easy pickings for the Hutts or any of the other criminal organizations.

But as long as there were more enemies to be killed she was willing to fight. If the former Rebels did not need her, the locals would have to…

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

The rest of the battle did not last long. The enemy had withdrawn, but her side did not gain anything. Just another pointless scuffle that led to several deaths and injuries. Another day in the muddy paradise.

This pointless civil war has been going on since the Clone Wars and fewer and fewer people remembered how it started and why they were fighting. Hopefully they were going to tire soon and the conflict would end. Tala picked up the bottle of ale to drink to the wishful thinking.

Tala looked up. It seems the blasted rain was going to stop soon. These were short periods of respite when ships could arrive and war profiteers could come to add fuel to the fire.

Well that went for the other side as well. So they would have some short respite before the senseless butchery begins anew. Tala was going to spend most of the time hammered or in a jail cell for public disorder.

Fun times…

TAG: @Bravo Anyone else

 

OOG:

@Sarge & @Mitth_Fisto , I am going to project a bit further out for you two in this next post to give you more to respond to and get to our other players. On the last post from Sunday on the East Platform, I hope I gave you two enough free reign on the 6 other commandos searching for you two. I tried to give you as much freedom---from Jim's point of view IC---to work with. Let me know if it was enough or not enough for future reference.


******


IC: Jim Palso
Cockpit, Hunk of Junk; hyperspace, Outer Rim Territories, 6.5 ABY (30 minutes later)


Palso stared out at the blue swirl of hyperspace. It had been said that if you stared long enough you would develop hyper-rapture. Shaking himself free to the gaze, he looked down again at the Antique & Armor Quarterly Sales Catalog; he had barely started again on the page of the 8 month-old edition that was left in the cockpit from when he last piloted the light freighter when he heard Walking Library's voice from behind as his robotic walk announced him seconds before.

"Captain Palso," came Library's voice as he entered into the cockpit, taking a seat at the co-pilot station, "Calrissian requests your presence in the Crew Lounge."

The Corellian nodded, tossing the catalog at the droid, "The new edition came out yesterday," Palso said matter-of-fact, "I am two editions behind. I finally get out if that deadbeat prison and I cannot even have the last edition from four months ago."

The droid looked at the catalog a moment, then looked up at his human master, "Captain, there were complications. Mainly your capture."

"Yeah, well," Jim stood up, stretching, "I guess I cannot complain too much. The Imperial hyperspace blockades are jamming up everything except for essential items and travel. And even those two require pre-Imperial authorization. I am sure sales for the catalog are down."

The droid looked off for a moment, before turning his attention back to Jim, "Sales for Antique & Armor Media Holdings is down 33% over the last six months. Other companies dealing with hard product had similar shortfalls. NewsNet suffered the worse shortfall, an estimated 79% of their usual profit for six months."

"I did not ask for a history lesson, Library," Jim replied with a smirk.

"Just providing facts, captain. Useful for providing context for your previous statement on the catalog."

Palso left his hat on the control station---where it had been---of the light freighter and gave the droid a lopsided smile, "Good job keeping the ship clean."

"Always a pleasure, captain," the droid replied as he stayed at the co-pilot station, "I will make sure we do not crash into any space debris."

"You do that, WL," Palso replied as he exited the cockpit and took the cockpit access corridor to where it connected with the main corridor and took a right towards the Crew Lounge. Like the rest of the light freighter, the Hunk of Junk maintained the original Gray Tiger Model's interior, essentially a aesthetics copy of Lando's Millennium Falcon interior with black flooring, white walls, yellow-and-black chairs, and crisp look with smooth transitions and rounded edges around the entirety of the starship. The pilot & co-pilot seats had been upgraded and featured black-and-yellow Lexiaus Beast leather, while the utility chairs around the starship (Engineering & Damage Control, Navigational & Communications, Computer Access Station, Engineering Station) featured the Lando-style yellow, but with Corellian leather.

The chair in the captain's cabin featured black-and-yellow Lexiaus Beast leather as well, while the captain's bunk and three double bunks featured yellow Meelweekian Silk sheets with a black elastex blanket to keep warmth in the coldness of realspace, while the bed frames themselves were black (as were the rooms' black floors) and the walls & ceilings were white.

It was clear someone liked Lando's style when designing the limited run "Gray Tiger" model or---true to Lando's style---that conman somehow wiggled his way onto the Corellian Engineering Corporation production team for the starship design. Which, Palso figured, wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for someone of Calrissian's personality.

Taking the few steps down into the Crew Lounge, Jim saw everyone loosely gathered around, some standing while others sat at the holographic table. Some had drinks in their hands, others food, some nothing. But all had time to rest their bodies and minds from the daring prison escape.

The only people---or droids---missing were the two thugs Lando brought along who still manned the turrets for space debris and WL, who now piloted the light freighter.

"Now that everyone is gathered," Lando announced from the computer access station in his usual sharp way, "We can start."

"Easy Lando," Palso said light hearted, then turned his attention to the ragtag group of prison break escapees, "You are here because I wanted you here. Or," Jim looked at the droid that had joined in the escape before turning his attention back to the group as a whole, "Because I figured you can be useful for our ends. Either way, it will a one-way ticket if you bishwag or be a stupid fedejik. You want to Buy the Depp, you do that on your own time, not mine. Lando?"

The stylish conman reached under the computer access station and shoved the ammo container across the floor, "Five thousand New Republic Credits up front for each crew member and droid."

"New Republic needs a job done," Palso followed-up, as everyone's attention went from the credits to next, who is paying and why, "Ten thousand more credits for everyone here once the job is completed. Imperial and New Republic databases will be wiped, courtesy of the New Republic Intelligence Service. No trace, no record. You will all have a fresh start. First stop is Corvus---we are picking up Astrea "Wraith" Igarashi. Former Imp---I am sure some of you have heard of her before. Last stop is Jabiim, picking up Tala Ashe. NR merc turned full mercenary after Endor. From Jabiim, we hyper into our mission: in, out, clean and quiet. By Corvus, your mind is made up. You want to MRU, you do so at Corvus and you will depart with your five thousand no questions asked. But your record will remain, so you are on the run the rest of your life. You stay on past Jabiim and to the mission being completed, you get the full deal. Questions?"

John Quick cleared his throat and flashed a cocky smile from along the wall as his head rose from looking down at the floor, "There's only one place worth visiting for that much credit on head in this room if you head towards Jabiim. That, a course, assumes we can even make it to Jabiim in one piece."

"You will find out where we are headed after Jabiim. We will be using abandoned hyperspace routes, so our contact with Imps or NR should be minimal," Palso stated, adding, "You have a problem Quick with the NR clearing your record and providing you credits to start over again? If so, MRU at Corvus. Take your five thousand and run."

"Just saying Jim, its NR. We were all thrown into that hell-hold prison because of the NR. Now you want us to trust the NR? Sounds like they are going to do us dirty first chance they get if you ask me. No better than an Imp Gov wanting to clean up the paperwork trail back in the day after covering up his mistake before the local Moff wants his weekly report."

"Water mixes with water, Quick," Jim responded, "Better to die free. I think everyone here can agree to that? Its credits. We were going to die in that Sith-hole anyways. Now we die on our own terms and if that means we take a few NR grunts with us before we go to the Great Beyond, all the better. But we will have the ace up our sleeve, they will not."

Quick crossed his arms over his chest, "How so, Palso?"

"Our mission is too important to be double crossed by the NR. And if we are, I think all of us here know a thing or two about getting one up on the enemy before they do that to us," Jim looked around those gathered, "Does anyone else have any concerns? Any questions?"


TAG @Sarge , @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Dash Rendar
Calodan, Corvus


Dash watched Wraith go for the backdoor. In the darkness of the tavern, he and his trusty droid Leebo sat at the last table in the tavern, the shadows of the distant candles and other light sources covering the pair in darkness. As Wraith crossed their paths, Rendar's voice reached out from the blackness, "You can't always run," the smuggler & mercenary said, "Sometimes you need to stay and fight for what is right. What is right for you."

The droid next to Dash turned its head towards the mercenary, "Captain, we have been running for the last three and a half years. In fact, most people think we are dead. Destroyed above Coruscant."

Dash sighed, "Thanks for stealing my thunder, Leebo," the mercenary turned his attention back to the woman as he leaned into the candle light to reveal his face, "The name is Rendar. Dash Rendar. You and I share a death problem---most people think we are dead. I think we can help each other---if you are willing to listen. But time is short for us both in staying alive, so make your decision quick...Wraith."

Dash ended with the woman's codename to get the point across that he knew more than she knew about what was about to happen......

In ten minutes.


TAG @TheSilentInfluence

 

IC: Booster Terrik
Gambler's Lost Luck, modified and privately owned PB-950 Patrol Boat; Jabiim


"The rains have stopped," Jityar 'Drums' Ba'tar said matter-of-factly as the windshield wiper slid the last droplets of rain from the cockpit transparisteel viewport of the aging PB-950 Patrol Boat, as the ship blasted its way through dense dark-gray cloud cover. While not one of the "newer" models produced during the Clone Wars, the Gambler's Lost Luck was made and delivered to the now-defunct Judicial Department some 30 years before the Invasion of Naboo. Long since retired at the end of the Clone Wars, the then Republic Star was found abandoned at Ord Mantell roughly 5 years after the end of the Clone Wars. The old patrol boat was reclaimed by several mercenaries and then spent the next 17 years passing through owners and various names & modifications until it found its way back to Ord Mantell and discarded it was assumed for the last time. Booster came upon the rusting hull of the patrol boat and brought it back to life.

"About time," Andrew 'Guitar' Monk said as the human toggled several switches overhead, "I don't know how much more this fifty-five year old metal can could take in that blockade. You better let Booster know we are here and let the big man know we'll need to make repairs dirt side."

"He won't want to hear that," Jityar mentioned about repairs as the gungan undid his crash webbing and stood up, "We're on a timetable."

"Timetables won't matter much if we're floating debris in hard vacuum," Andrew said in response.

The gungan threw his hands up in frustration as he walked away, around the ladder well and beyond to the conference room; a lone ECT B1 Battle Droid stood sentry at the blast door. While a old B1 in and of itself was little to worry about, these advanced after-market models were deceptively deadly and smart. Excellent for bodyguard detail. Although the gungan had got use to the droids aboard the Johnny Boy all those years ago, these droids under Booster's employ seemed even more....soulless. It made Jityar nervous every time he was around one of the killing machines.

"Halt," the mechanical droid's voice emitted with an additional raised hand to make the point, "You do not have authorization."

"Tell Booster we have arrived. And that we need to make repairs before we can lift off for space again," Jityar said.

The droid looked off for a moment, as he was processing some unseen data, and then looked back to the alien, "He is aware. Please return to your station."

Jityar nodded and then turned around and walked back to the cockpit. He fell into the co-pilot seat and strapped on his crash webbing. He looked out the viewport at the blue sky ahead of them with the sun above breaking through the black-gray clouds above. The blue sky seemed to be the only beauty left on the planet between the darkish skies and the war-torn ravaged surface below.

"Who would want to fight for a place like this," Andrew said as he looked below at the effects of war, "Its devastated."

"People like us," Jityar said with as much effort as he could muster, "It keeps us employed."

"A far cry from our Mercs days, my friend," Andrew said, glancing at his friend, "That bad?"

"I hate that thing," the gungan said, "Next time you are talking to it."

"It's a droid, Jityar. Not some nightmare killer."

"Your version of a nightmare and my version of a nightmare are two very different versions apparently."

Andrew chuckled, "Look," the pilot pointed out the viewport, "There's our landing spot. Once we land and get repairs, you'll have a few hours away from that droid."

"All six of those blasted nightmares," Jityar corrected, adding, "And I do mean all six of them!"


***********

Conference Area, Gambler's Lost Luck


The hologram shuttered as the old patrol boat shook and rumbled, disrupting the communication signal and shaky energy output on the starship, "We are running short on time, Booster. If the Empire decides to---"

"---look, Karrde," the mercenary said, "Once I deliver these military supplies, I will personally go get her. But that NRRS blockade was harder then you heard. Then anyone else heard. Either this local warlord is an idiot to blockade this dump of a planet or he has more starships, tanks, and manpower then everyone first thought and can just toss reserve units at useless blockades like this."

"Has the blockade stopped other gun runners?" Talon asked.

Booster gave him a look, "Really? That question? A course it hasn't! Business as usual for the bulk of runners down here: the rain stops, we dive down to resupply the murdering masses. But I am piloting a patrol boat, not a YT-series. I'm a target if we don't choose our holes precisely."

"Booster, no more excuses. Find Tala Ashe and get her out of there. Palso and the Hunk of Junk are walking straight into a trap and the more we can do to reduce the damage, the better. They are still our best chance on this mission and we need them alive."

"Do we know who sold them out? Its been less than twenty-four hours!"

Talon shook his head, "I have my best people working on it. Dash is on Corvus---he said it's tight. All that I do know is that whoever sold them out doesn't know the end goal---at least not yet. All they have is names."

"Bounty hunters," Booster stated matter-of-factly and with a sharp sour tone.

"And someone has credit to boot," Talon said, "I am assuming more than one and not of BHG quality on such short notice. But that will mean more than one. Probably a dozen or so to ensure the job is done."

"Status update on the Princess and Solo? Wedge?" Booster asked.

Talon shook his head, "None. We've monitored no additional movement on, near, or towards Kashyyyk. But that could change. I'll keep you posted," Talon looked off at something off screen from where he stood for a moment, then said quickly, "Someone is trying to tap into our encrypted line---ending call!"

As the holographic ended, Booster frowned. No one knew Talon's security protocols and routines. No one. And even if they did, somehow, Talon could spot them on the other side of the galaxy before they did any real damage. But this? An encryption hack with no notice?

Troubling.

"Mr. Terrik," the lone ECT droid said as he stood sentry by the door, "ECT two-dash-thirty-four, five-dash-four informs me we have arrived. Although we will need repairs."

"Feke," the smuggler breathed, then looked at Mirax who sat at the table. His daughter held up her hands. Booster frowned, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I told you," Mirax said, "Not to do business with Karrde. But you didn't listen. You said, oh, I'm not helping Karrde, I'm helping out Skywalker and Solo. Whatever Dad! You saw the payday and now have to deliver. Literally."

"And we will," Booster said.


***********

Jabiim

Booster's boot sunk into the mud a bit as he walked off the ramp of the PB-950 and then jumped onboard the 614-AvA Speeder Bike; two of the ECT droids were on two similar speeder bikes themselves just ahead by five yards and waiting for Booster. One ECT droid stood sentry at the lowered ramp to one side, while another ECT droid stood at the top of the ramp to the opposite side on sentry duty. The last two droids were inside the ship, one manning the quad laser turret, while the other controlled the ion cannons and concussion missiles. The human and gungan pilots were in the cockpit, ready to lift off on a moment's notice.

Mirax stood at the top of the ramp as the patrol ship hummed quietly on standby, her hands on her hips and legs shoulder width apart, a heavy blaster pistol strapped to her left leg and a black leather jacket over her torso. A half dozen Pit Droids moved industrial-packaged crates on hover sleds around Mirax and down the ramp to the waiting open-bed hovertruck. Out before the landed patrol ship was a endless maze of trenches for the "good guys", complete with artillery, defensive lines, and clear no-man's land areas. While not the full picture of a larger planetary wear, this one little look into hell was enough even for the strongest willed to lose heart. Two repurposed Imperial AT-STs stood silent sentry to either side of the main entrance with a half dozen soldiers from the landing pads into the trench works beyond.

Booster looked back over his shoulder, "Get the weapons, ammo, and explosives off-loaded. If we are not back before the rain starts again, you know where to go."

"Be safe old man," Mirax said matter-of-factly, "You will need to meet my new boyfriend before you hit the dust."

"And then what?" Booster asked with a lopsided grin.

"Then you can die, dad," Mirax said.

"Love you too," Booster said and turned his attention to the task at hand and soon, he sped off, the two ECT droids and their speeders falling into a flanking escort formation to either side very quickly. The two AT-ST walkers and their guards let them pass as the laser gate was turned off to let them pass, then turned back on after they were through.


***********

Military Bar


Booster looked up at the sign one more time, before disembarking the speeder bike in a mutty splash of his boots. He looked two the two escort droids, "Stand here and watch our rides."

"Roger, roger," said both droids as they likewise disembarked the bikes and stood sentry.

Leaving the bikes and droids behind, Booster entered the military establishment. Enlisted, officer, civilian contractor, mercenary...it didn't matter. Booze flowed freely. Another warning sign of NO DROIDS ALLOWED was just inside the entrance, aside from the sign that hung outside the bar that identified the bar with the warning under it about droids. Probably a fear of Clone Wars-era droids that never left the local population.

Booster scanned the crowded bar until he saw the unarmored form with a bottle of drink half gone. Armor or no armor, Booster could spot Tala a mile away. He had worked with her a few times and the two had a...business understanding, although even he had to admit it wasn't always on the best of terms. Regardless, she did good work, he paid well. But it had been a few years since Booster had last seen her---before the Empire's defeat at Endor in fact.

"Tala," Booster announced as he came alongside the table; he motioned to the free seat across from her, "Care if I sit?"


TAG @TheAdmiral

 

IC: R3-TJ
Nobody Here But Us Hunks of Junk

TJ scanned the outline of the approaching freighter, definitely Corellian YT series, one of the later versions, a 1930, maybe a high-end model, maybe a fancy paint job to make it look like a high-end model. He'd be happy with one of those, but this one seemed to belong to the other escapees, and they weren't likely to let him take it for himself. He scanned the area for any other suitable ships, but none of them looked reliable. He decided he'd stick with the others for the time being and hope for an opportunity to get a ship of his own later.

He rolled up the entry ramp and scanned the interior. It mostly matched the deckplans in his tramp freighter database and he had his bearings in moments. First he located a storage locker and stuffed the duffel bag into it.

What's in that bag, anyway? he wondered. His 'rights' as a droid didn't extend to keeping personal property of his own in a penal colony, and he had nothing when he'd arrived. Most likely the guards had used his assigned storage space to stash their own contraband. It might be worth digging into later. Preferably when no one else was paying attention to him and whatever possible valuables were in the bag. He coded the locker to a random combination, knowing full well that the ship's owner likely had override privileges to all the locks on board. Still, it would look suspicious if he didn't at least try to secure his stuff.

He sensed the YT accelerating upward from the surface toward space. Were they going to run a blockade now? Judging by the tone of the engines and the activity of the inertial dampers, things were getting sporty outside. He parked himself in the upper airlock and closed the inner door behind him. If emergency exterior repairs were needed, he'd have a head start at saving all their lives. And as a bonus, he'd also be first in line to the escape pod if things went bad. But eventually things settled down and the ship jumped to hyperspace.

When it looked like the excitement was over, he took a few minutes to roll around the ship and get the lay of the land. The first thing he found was the ship's galley. While no one else was around, he plugged into the autochef and recycled his internal nutrient reservoir. Just as he finished that long-overdue task, his sensors picked up another astromech droid, an R3 series that looked very similar to himself, except for his ratty paint job. He beeped and whistled his own ID tag the way a good droid would, then inquired about the ship's repair and maintenance status. Apparently the ship was in satisfactory condition, so he squirted an info burst at the other R3, informing it that he'd take some time to survey the ship and acquaint himself with its systems so he'd be prepared for emergency repairs, in accordance with standard astromech droid programming. He didn't wait for an answer as he rolled away.

A human was calling the crew together in the lounge. TJ joined the others and did his best to keep a low profile as they discussed a mission. His interest was piqued at the 5000 credit advance. More so at the offer of 10,000 and a clean record if the mission was a success. That kind of pay likely meant a dangerous job, but droids tended to survive when organics bled out. He wondered if he could collect the others' pay if he were the only survivor.

TJ beeped and whistled agreeably and looked to see who else wanted to sign up.


TAG: @Bravo @Mitth_Fisto