Star Wars OPEN The Kingdom

IC: Elena Shan
Abandoned Starport, capital city Salis D'aar, Bakura

Elena watched, almost in slow motion as they breached the door. She waited, breathing heavily before Business shouted the all clear. Sighing in relief, she reached out an tapped him on the shoulder. "Yes, let's go. We should secure the area and get everyone out of here." She paused, and hit her comm. "Please be advised, we are clearing out. I want a causality report as soon as possible." Elena said.

She pushed away from the door, ears ringing a little less now. Although she was starting to feel exhausted and wanted to sit down. "Come on, let's get back before I pass out."

Tag: @Bravo

 

IC: Lance Corporal Falen Duryn
Abandoned Starport, capital city of Salis D'aar, Bakura

"Ribs..? Ah, they're broken, yeah, that makes sense.." Falen muttered through clenched teeth. Usually, whenever he got hurt, the circumstances involved would knock him unconscious. Remaining awake, forced to manage the pain, was something new. Either way, he was a liability to his comrades. His weakness could get others killed.

A new ache echoed through his chest, a dull cold sensation. Different from the incessant stabbing of his broken ribs. Shame.

"I'll owe you one." He said reluctantly, putting up little resistance to Eyes' manhandling of his body. All he could do was to focus on breathing, in and out. Every footfall underneath sent a spasm of fresh pain through his frame, a horrible cadence Falen forced his mind to focus on.

If nothing else, Falen would force himself to stay awake. It would be a small victory, but one all the same.

"Ngh.. I think I'll take the cab next time..N-no offense" He muttered, a ghost of a smile etched on his lips. Something below him had unmistakably begun to feel wet, a detail which broke what concentration he had been able to muster. Wet was odd, especially in the dusty environment such as the one they found themselves in.

Falen reasoned it must be because of Eyes. Maybe Chiss just had really moist shoulders? The finer details of alien biology wasn't exactly covered in depth at the Imperial academy. Of course, it was the alien that was the source of the mystery sensation. It certainly had nothing to do with why it was getting increasingly harder to breathe. Or how the wetness was red, and slowly seeping through Falen's breastplate.

"H..heh.. Silly aliens.."

Tag: @Bravo

 

IC: Billy & Jim Palso
Aces' Club, Belkadan's solo and sand-swept & desolate moon; Belkadan Moon Monastery



Havah looked down and back up and then he nodded, "I'm keeping the sword, and I think the house owes us a few bottles instead of a glass." With that Havah put his own weapons away before searching for the scabbard to put the sword back into. He was pretty sure the kid would want the armor, after all Havah already had his own.

Jim cracked a cocky grin at another successful "mission". Everyone around the club started smiling, congulrating one another, and a few even started clapping towards Havah and Palso. Other types, such as would be expected for such an establishment of scoundrels, started gathering up all the free liquor left at tables without drinkers to start drinking.

"I'll take the armor," Palso said, but hardly a moment after his words came out, the whole place started shaking! Layers of dust and dirt started falling from the walls & ceiling and Palso groaned, "You have got to be kidding me!" He holstered his right pistol and went for his heavier punching S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol off his right thigh holster and followed the handful that ventured outside the club and looked up into the blue desert sky. High above in the sparsely white clouded blue sky, a large vessel---larger then even a star destroyer!!!---moved across the sky high above and blocked out the sun high above, casting its shadow down below over the monastery. From it---already long coming down before the shaking, but more coming from it high above still---smaller shadows came down towards the surface.

Two speedy starfighters Jim had never seen before rocketed across, skimming the towers by just inches, their engines' booms silencing all noise temporary as they blasted past. After those speedy starfighters, the ship that had caused the shaking came into view, the ground shaking and people even started to run for their lives.

"It's the Empire! It's the Empire!" shouted many voices.

This was no Empire.

"Ah," Billy said with a grin as he looked up besides Palso, "I was wondering when they were going to show up."

"Who is they?" Palso asked, but he already knew the answer. He recongized that large ship blocking out the sun from their capture and "deal" with the Jod earlier. Billy knew he had won and his voice carried it every inch of the way.

"Royal Command Force Omega," Billy responded, "Badassery defined."

Jim shared a glance with Havah, but Palso said nothing as he returned his eyes to the sky and ships above.

"Care to explain?" Jim asked, holstering his blaster pistol. There were alternatives to fighting, even if Jim hated to admit it.

"Omega handles all Outside Galaxy threats to the Kingdom of Jod. The presence of a Cimmerian Hell Rider is automatically triggered through a vast array of sensors and other devices spaced throughout the galaxy, including physical assets. Hell Riders cannot breathe without us knowing it in the Outside Galaxy. Once detected, either a Royal Command Force or Royal Command Unit---depending on assessed threat and location of the Hell Rider---is immediately deployed. If they arrive too late,

"Ah-uh," Jim replied, hoping the blowhard would keep spilling the beans. Jim knew Havah would be remembering every little detail and the two, with Winterkill, could go over the details later. Keep talking....keep talking, Jim pleaded in his thoughts.

Billy smiled as he glanced towards Palso, "Oh, don't worry mercenary. I'm not spilling the beans like an idiot. I'm purposely telling you this."

Well...Sith, Jim thought.

"I was hoping you were an idiot," Jim admitted, not taking his eyes off the ground shaking ship as it landed in one of the nearest docking bays, a cloud of dust and dirt flying upwards and covering everything within range as it landed.

"Don't worry," Billy said, "They're not here for us. They don't even know we are here. But I would suggest we move and move quickly. They detain all relative witnesses and I hear interrogations can get nasty sometimes, including the standard memory wipe of recent events. But sometimes the memory wipes go bad and people are left to become crazies, stuck in their minds and babbling crazy things. Not a pleasant way to live the rest of your days."

"No," Jim replied, "It's not," Palso turned to Havah, "Havah, you were ex spec ops. We need to move and move undetected back to the Hunk of Junk---on the far side of that ship that just landed! You will know how these troops search and in what patterns."

"That Hammer Strike-class Landing Craft that just landed will be deploying fifty-eight Strategic Assault Troopers. They'll be securing the area and setting up an immediate perimeter, with additional patrols and search teams as needed," Billy offered, just as ropes flew down from up above as a Sentinel-class Patrol Craft blasted into view overhead, sending everything not secured flying by it's powerful engines and hovering! Jim had to hold onto his hat as he reached for his S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol and un-holstered it, "Ten Naval Reconnaissance Troopers---best of the best! Their here to deal with the Hell Rider."

As the human forms started roping down, Jim looked at Havah, "Havah! We need to move NOW!"



TAG @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Black 13
CloakShape Fighter, Abandoned Starport, capital city Salis D'aar, Bakura


"I refuse to choose anything but your death."

Black 13 sighed as the Imperial put increased speed to his words and Black 13 had to match the increase where he could to avoid being caught (while successful, the enemy TIE was just outside laser cannon range now---one mistake and Black 13 may not be so lucky).

He was hoping this Imperial would be different than the others.

But alas not. The Separatists should have won the war, not the Republic turned Empire. There would have been freedom in the Outer Rim. Freedom to choose. Freedom to act. Freedom to live. Instead there was nothing but conformity after the rise of the First Order.

"So be it," Black 13 replied, adding with venom, "Imperial."


*****

Major Héctor Pérez watched as the CloakShape apart into a fiery mess of metal, flame, and debris as his lasers tore through the hull and signaled the fighter and it's pilot's death.

That was the third kill this afternoon, as much so in the last 60 seconds (the enemy's lack of Imperial training & coordination was starting to become exposed as the battle dragged on and superior Imperial training & coordination dug into the enemy's battle plans). Two other CloakShapes were downed earlier by other TIE pilots in the squadron (Pérez would have to note those kills later for needed recognition), while one TIE Fighter had been lost to action.

"I have a situation here," came Turr Kya's voice over the squadron comm, "Terrorist is intending to fire upon targets within Salis D'aar. Requesting instructions."

The Major glanced at the immediate battlefield around him and felt comfortable that the TIEs would hold the upper hand without his help.

He keyed the comm, "Bad One detaching solo to spaceport support operations. Bad Two, Bad Three, and Bad Four, stay on station. Bad Seven, resume air superiority operations command."

"Bad Three copies for First Flight."

"Bad Seven copies Bad One. Continuing air superiority operations command."

Pérez dispatched his speed and agility away from the dogfight and towards the spaceport.

"This is Bad Eleven," came Saraali Deatar's voice, "requesting for backup, having some trouble with the bombers over here!"

"Bad One to Bad Nine. What is your status?"

Silence.

"Bad One to Bad Nine. What is your status?"

Silence again.

Pérez checked his sensors. The four Lambda-class Shuttles and the lone TIE Fighter escort still appeared on scopes with no enemy starfighters in sight. They were angling far and wide from the Republic Cruiser in atmo, clearly out of weapons range.

"Bad One to Shuttle 321. Lieutenant Commander Sanddoom. Respond."

Silence.

"Bad One to Shuttle 321. Lieutenant Commander Sanddoom. Respond."

Silence again.

Pérez was no fool. Comms were being jammed and they were being jammed at a specific location. The shuttles and TIE Fighter were about to get ambushed.

"Bad One to Bad Twelve. Reengage enemy bomber group. Our ground forces are priority. Bakura Planetary Security Forces and local law enforcement have civilian defense protocols in place for our operation. Break. Bad Eleven, Bad Twleve will be reengaging on your location. Hold tight. Break. Bad One breaking to Bad Nine's location with shuttles for recon. Comms are down for TIE escort and shuttles."


*****


IC: CloakShape Fighter #9
CloakShape Fighter, Abandoned Starport, capital city Salis D'aar, Bakura


"Ah!" the female cyborg complained as the tree limb---this one larger than the last---bounced off her port wing, the impact almost causing her to loose control. Her faster-then-normal cyborg reflexes saved her from plowing through the forest canopy, but it also made her loose the TIE as it banked up and away.

She was now out of position.

She cut speed, banked up and around, and added speed back to play catch-up. Now out of laser cannon range, she was in missile range. She switched to missiles, waited for the solid tone, and launched two missiles towards the distance TIE Fighter! If she couldn't destroy the TIE Fighter, she could at least distract it from the bomber group.


TAG @Sinrebirth , @Darth_Elu

 

OOG: Starting to wrap this mission up and back to the DN!





IC: Peter Streets / Matth'set'peteravrevma (DW-418122, aka "Eyes")
Abandoned Starport, capital city Salis D'aar, Bakura


[Helmet Recording...recording...recording....recording....]
Personnel: Scout Trooper DW-418122
Unit: Joker Platoon, 2nd Squad, Team A / Sniper Unit

• No Link: Sergeant Aiden Gray (E-22 Blaster Rifle)---deceased
• Active: Corporal DW-418123 (Tech) (E-11 Blaster Rifle)
• Active: Lance Corporal Falen Duryn (E-11s Sniper Rifle)

Date/Year: Monday, Year 7975 (C.R.C. Dating System)
Time: 07:04 hours (military time; 24-hour clock)
Location: Planet of Bakura (Wild Space)



"He's bleeding!" came the voice.

"He's what?" Streets asked, unable to hear over his own pounding heart and heavy breathing as he reached the ramp.

"Duryn is bleeding!" Tech repeated.

"Come on! Come on!" Trooper TK-1245 (JC) barked as he stood at the bottom of the ramp, his E-22 Blaster Rifle weapon covering their approach.

Another trooper was standing at the top of the ramp and Streets rolled the trooper just into the compartment so the ramp could close and seal. Blood rolled off his shoulder and as Streets rolled Duryn onto the floor, the front of the corporal's armor was smeared in the red liquid known as blood.

The Chiss took off his helmet and put it besides him as he looked up at Sergeant First Class Adrias Stark, "He needs a medic, sir," then the Chiss went about removing Duryn's torso armor, exposing the wound, "Do you have your Medpac, sir?" the sniper turned his body to show the crumbled and destroyed one on his own utility belt, "Mine got crushed by debris."


*****

"How about that?" DW-418125 (Face) asked over the comlink in his helmet as he laid under the console board, the underbelly of the console's wires exposed.

"I see you now on the system scanner for connection ports," Master Sergeant Craig Anthony Stewart (Animal) replied over the comm channel, "Let me see if I can reattach your ship to the slave system---got it!"

Face allowed a smile to cross his face as the red glow inside the console turned green, "We're in business!" he announced to Animal, then switched comm channels, "Everyone get onboard. We're getting out of here!"


*****


JC nodded to Face's command over the comm channel---took one last look, sporting a parting blaster bolt to two pirates trying to rush the transport, hitting one in the chest (while he himself having to dodge return fire), while the other one scattered in retreat after a near-miss.

He turned on a dime and ran up the ramp, stepping aside from the wounded and those attending him as he hit the ramp close button. Once the ramp closed and JC felt the cargo transport move, he looked at those gathered, "What can I do to help?"

"Do whatever they say!" Corporal DW-418123 (Tech) announced, pointing to the wounded and caretakers as he headed towards the cockpit. Once there, Tech looked at Face as the stormtrooper now sat in the pilot's seat, "Duryn is in pretty bad shape."

Face nodded, keying his helmet comm, "Animal? Duryn is hit bad. Can we make these ships go any faster?"

"I'll try!" Animal replied.


*****


IC: Trooper Lance Zachary Yates (DW-418128; "Business")
Abandoned Starport, capital city Salis D'aar, Bakura


[Helmet Recording...recording...recording....recording....]
Personnel: Stormtrooper DW-418121
Unit: Joker Platoon, 2nd Squad, Team B

• Active: Master Sergeant Craig Anthony Stewart (Animal) (T-21B Heavy Blaster)
• Active: Trooper DW-418127 (E-11 Blaster Rifle)
• Active [Attached]: Lieutenant Elena Shan (Customized Sniper Rifle)
• Active [Attached]: Staff Sergeant Rusty Oak (DH-17 Blaster Pistol)

Date/Year: Monday, Year 7975 (C.R.C. Dating System)
Time: 07:04 hours (military time; 24-hour clock)
Location: Planet of Bakura (Wild Space)



"Come on, let's get back before I pass out."

"Yes, ma'am!" Business replied, before activating his comm channel, "Rear cargo ship secured and ready to lift off."

"Lead cargo ship secured and ready," came Staff Sergeant Rusty Oak's voice over the comm, "The Master Sergeant is trying to reconnect the middle cargo ship to the slave system. Their console board got roasted."

"Copy," Business said, sitting down in the pilot seat and strapping in with the crash webbing, "We'll sit tight."

It wasn't long before the cargo ship lifted off via the slave system. Business took off his helmet and wiped his sweaty hair as Animal's voice came over the comm channel shared by the transports' cockpits. It was like music to Business' ears.

"Second Squad, Joker Platoon to Darkest Night. Mission complete."

"Congratulations, Joker," came a female voice over the comm channel, "Break! Bad Love Squadron?"

"Bad Seven, acting command for Bad One."

"Bad Seven, reform your squadron to escort of three Eta-class Supply Barges."

"Bad Seven copies. Redirecting flight resources to escort of supply barges."

But the moment only lasted so long as the next words made his stomach turn.

"Darkest Night, Joker Platoon. We have wounded inbound."

"Copy Joker. We will have a med team standing by."

It was bad enough to loose a fellow stormtrooper back on the planet. It was worse to endure the unknown of another trooper surviving or dying on the trip home.



TAG @TheSilentInfluence , @TheAdmiral , @Silvertough

 

IC: Natalia Markova
Darkest Night

The navigator and helmsbeing, sat in silence as the TIEs did their work searching the debris for survivors. There wasn't much for her to do, the Star Destroyer was in a stable position and not under threat, therefore it didn't require her direct input. Didn't mean she gave herself a break, her attention was kept on their location, making sure they didn't start to drift unnecessarily. Her keen hearing was on alert for any sudden changes. Every now and again she would check the position of TIEs and shuttles making sure they weren't straying into the gravitational pull of the planet. She trusted them to know what they were doing but, there were memories of her Cadet Cruise with some of the fresh faced pilots getting themselves into trouble, on her watch. They'd forgotten that they were around a gas giant and that the pull of the mass shadow was stronger than their standard training. Thankfully they didn't lose anyone on that little misadventure, though she had to talk a panicked pilot through a slingshot maneuver something he should have known. Was there any recognition for that from him...no.

While she was looking up for her small sensor read out she noticed a flash in the corner of her eye, a star field that wasn't the one she was looking at currently. It also broke the quiet that had settled in around her. She always worked better in silence, less distractions, less things pulling at her attention. Though now she was enamored with the image the Commodore was sharing with Captain Trotter.

The young woman knew what it was, the image was burned into her mind since she got the orders from the Commodore. She'd spent the last few hours before taking her post pouring over the datapads in the High Security Conference room. That image was the first step in the most important mission in the young officer's life. Stepping into the Unknown Regions. The greatest mystery of the modern galaxy. A place shrouded in myth and legend. Her training at the academy had diven home the danger of entering a place like that. The black holes that would swallow up a ship, the nebula that would disable them, the rogue planetoids that would demolish it. It was no place for a ship the size of the Darkest Night, at least what her professors told her. Though after hours pouring over the information she had access to, she believed it was possible.

The call for clearing the bridge was made and for a moment Natalia felt like she should leave as well. She was just a Navigator and helm, not the Chief Navigator. Then she remembered, Chief Navigator Selef Vicxavier was not aboard. He was scouting ahead of them. His information would be invaluable, if not a little long winded. The former professor did love his long winded lectures. He was still one of the best navigators in the Navy and would assuredly have pages and pages of valuable data for her to learn from.

The bridge slowly cleared out, until only a skeleton crew remained. The silence held again and Natalia couldn't be happier. Though the presence of the troopers still carries an uncomfortable edge with her. There was still that weight in her heart seeing them, knowing that she could be found out at any moment.

"Captain Markova, report to the commodore!" Captain Trotter called out snapping her out of her concerns for the moment. Her head came up and a shock ran through her making her heart skip a beat. Quickly she gathered her datapad that was never, ever far from her grasp.

"Yes sir." She rose from her station to see the Captain slide down the ladder into the empty crew pit near her.

"I'll take over your station." Her mouth opened to protest, it was her position, her place to guide the ship but, quickly swallowed those words. He was her superior and they were in a stable orbit. There was nothing that needed her direct attention. Though there was that bit of fear of leaving her space, the place she fit in the bridge. With more histation than she would like to admit she climbed up the ladder and moved to the Commodore's side.

As he zoomed in and the screen became filled with data her eyes took it all in. While it might have been a jumble of numbers and terms, Natalia understood every word. Listening she allowed him to talk shifting her focus from him to the screen. Most of her job was crunching numbers and very little of, taking the control yoke. Most of the systems were automated...though manual control was always an option. Looking at the entry point it looked like manual control would be necessary. The drifting carbonbergs, and the flashes of lightning could cause issues. The rogue planetoid could be accounted for easy enough but, as the Commodore said, this was uncharted territory, and half a day in they would be beyond all markers, making their way by dead reckoning, in the most treacherous space known to the Empire.

Taking the datacard she plugged it into her datapad quickly downloading the contents. Her eyes flashed over the information taking in. The planetoids gravity was already calculated, so that saved her some time, the average size of the carbonburgs was in there, the only question that wasn't answered was the lightning strikes. They seemed random and without apparent cause. She would need more time with the data, there had to be a pattern.

She did not seeing like the Commodore, as beautiful and deadly. There was no art or athstetics to her. Just numbers and paths. Already she was seeing the line, the way through.

"What are your initial thoughts, captain, on first glance?" The Commodore asked. "Can it be done? Can we get a star destroyer through this entry point and beyond?"

She didn't answer right away looking over the information handed to her. It would not be easy and it would require much of her, but she was willing to give it.

"Yes I believe with enough study and careful plotting we can find our way through sir." She said without a hint of doubt. "Sir, might I request a cot be put in a room with access directly to the bridge. This will require much of my attention and being so far away from it could cause issues if there were an emergency that required my direct action." Her tone was serious they were entering the unknown, and she didn't want to miss a moment of it.

TAG: @Bravo

 

Flying Officer Saraali Deatar IC:
~In Combat, Bakura Air Space~

From what she could tell, the enemy pursuer had not been destroyed by the falling trees, but was at least forced to fall out of firing range. Not the best outcome, but one Saraali would accept.

"Time to get back to those bombers," she mumbled under her breath.

Pouring the speed on to get to them as fast as possible, she watched the distance shriek and began firing as soon as she was able, peppering their engines while being mindful of their ability to fire back given their new formation. It was dangerous and going to take some weaving, but someone had to do it. She couldn't afford to dance around them much longer, especially seeing as she was the only one engaging them.

The comm sounded suddenly.

"Bad One to Bad Twelve. Reengage enemy bomber group. Our ground forces are priority. Bakura Planetary Security Forces and local law enforcement have civilian defense protocols in place for our operation. Break. Bad Eleven, Bad Twelve will be reengaging on your location. Hold tight. Break. Bad One breaking to Bad Nine's location with shuttles for recon. Comms are down for TIE escort and shuttles."

"Copy that, Bad One. Will be grateful for the assist, Bad Twelve!"

Well, that was a bit better. Just needed to hold out then. But as she continued her exchange of fire, doing her best to aim for the bombers' engines from behind or any escort should remove from her way, there came a sound just as sudden as the comm chatter. Incoming Missile Alert!

"Shavit," she cursed about to swerve away again when a thought came to her.

With a grin, she remained right where she was. If she was straight on the bomber group and the missiles were coming straight from behind her...then they were technically aiming for...

Thank you for the gift, pirate scum.

Saraali peppered the enemy squadron while allowing the missiles to come upon her, only adding a bit more speed as they got close so she in turn could get them closer to the bombers. She was taking hits now for sure, but this was going to more than make up for it. There was even a distinct possibility with how close she was, she was taking down some of the escorts at this point. Hitting the comms back to the pirate's channel from before, she allowed her feral grin to be essentially felt through the radio.

"I think you better watch this, scum."

And just as the missiles were about to strike, she spun up and away from the bombers, as if to get on top of them. But the positioning and lack of mobility of the missiles, given that she went practically right up on the enemy (likely freaking them out as if she was suicide ramming them then confusing them when she didn't), should have them ram into the bombers instead. The resulting explosion and subsequent debris should produce a chain reaction that in turn would take out even more of the squadron. Textbook friendly fire.

That was almost too perfect and she would laugh at the sight if it succeeded, which given the risk she pulled off, should be rather high in her estimates.

"Looks like you shouldn't even be in charge over there, Nine scum. Hahahaha! Thank you for the assistance!" The times the 'Ice Queen' or 'Razor Steel' as some would call her showed mirth, was not a time you wanted to be around. ((Said if the plan works))

And that was how the difference in skill between an Imperial and a Pirate should look like, she'd think smugly while surveying what was left of the enemy and the current status of the battle. She'd be using the destruction as further cover from any further attack attempts from 'Nine' as well.

Tag: Nine, Bad Twelve, Bad One, & Others @Bravo @Sinrebirth

 

IC: Falen Duryn
Abandoned Starport, Salis D'aar, Bakura

The forced removal of his breastplate had made it easier to exhale, a very welcome change to the predicament Falen found himself in. Inhaling though, was a fully separate matter. He found himself laid out on the floor of the shuttle, wracked with confusion as fellow Stormtroopers appeared to proclaim his imminent demise. But try as he might, he could offer nothing in the way of a counterpoint.

No disarming quips or witty sarcasm. All he could muster were increasingly wet gasps for air.

It hurt, everything did. Oh, how he wished to just go to sleep, to slip into the welcome embrace of unconsciousness. At least there he could dream, let the others worry about patching him up. That's how it had worked the last time, when the E-Web detonated. There was pain, then nothingness, and when he awoke, Falen was as good as new, save for some new scarring. So why did things feel so differently now?

Something deep within, was ordering him to stay awake, screeching to push back against the encroaching void of sleep. It made little sense to Falen, but then again, not much did these days.

Falen blinked slowly at the sudden appearance of a blue face hovering above him. The man wanted something, but what? His lips were moving. He looked concerned. An ally then, Falen reasoned. The alien was pointing at something on his own utility belt, a crumpled package of some sorts.

Realization dawned on him. The alien was trying to help. A medpack, of course! Falen had one of those, surely. Yes! He had made sure to pack an extra one, in case the mission turned desperate. With a trembling hand, Falen gingerly pointed at the satchel bound to his thigh.

"?" He managed to sputter, his words incomprehensible over the din of the shuttle.

Tag: @Bravo

 

IC: Sergeant First Class Adrias Stark
Abandoned Starport, capital city Salis D'aar, Bakura

Adrias tried not to react to the alien… the Chiss. He knew of only one like him serving the Empire, the infamous Thrawn. Non-humans were regarded as second-class citizens, third even and seeing one serving his potential oppressors…

Admittedly the Chiss Ascendancy, if he remembered the name of their government, was not part of the Empire. That made it even stranger as the ISB would not allow anyone whom they could not control to serve.

So the guy must have done something very important or have skills and knowledge the Emperor needed.

Adrias blinked at the question and shook the thoughts away from his mind “Umm...” he started “There should be one on-board the shuttle.” he then remembered his own medkit. The Bucketheads, as the Stormtroopers were called, did not carry many items that could help them survive.

After all they were all expendable.

He had a small bacta spray and some bandages, along with some painkiller tabs. The medic carried more, but there was none around.

Good thing the Empire valued flyboys more than the groundpounders, so in the shuttle there should be something. “Here, take this.” he handed his own medkit “Will look around for the shuttle’s one.”

TAG: @Bravo

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Aces' Club, Belkadan's solo and sand-swept & desolate moon; Belkadan Moon Monastery

Havah glanced around as he secured his 'prize'. Everyone around the club started smiling, congratulating one another, and a few even started clapping towards Havah and Palso. Other types, such as would be expected for such an establishment of scoundrels, started gathering up all the free liquor left at tables without drinkers to start drinking. Havah had a strong urge to follow suit, but. . .

"I'll take the armor," Palso said, but hardly a moment after his words came out, the whole place started shaking! Layers of dust and dirt started falling from the walls & ceiling as Palso in typical Corellian bravado groaned, "You have got to be kidding me!" He holstered his right pistol and went for his heavier punching S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol off his right thigh holster and followed the handful that ventured outside the club and looked up into the blue desert sky.

Following along after quickly grabbing the helm and seeking to hook it on the back of his belt he was a few seconds late to the window. Still the sight was pretty impressive. A large vessel---larger then even a star destroyer!!!---moved across the sky high above and blocked out the sun high above, casting its shadow down below over the monastery. From it---already long coming down before the shaking, but more coming from it high above still---smaller shadows came down towards the surface.

Two speedy starfighters of unknown models rocketed across, skimming the towers by just inches, their engines' booms silencing all noise temporary as they blasted past. Shock and awe tactics but also spoke to the flashy cockiness of the pilots. Probably Palso's relatives. After those speedy starfighters, the ship that had caused the shaking came into view, the ground shaking and people even started to run for their lives.

"It's the Empire! It's the Empire!" shouted many voices. They were wrong, but everyone was inclined to their own fears.

"Ah," Billy said with a grin as he looked up besides Palso, "I was wondering when they were going to show up." Well, that answered that. Billy relatives, worse than Palso relatives in most respects.

"Who is they?" Palso asked, but he already knew the answer. He recognized that large ship blocking out the sun from their capture and "deal" with the Jod earlier. Billy knew he had won and his voice carried it every inch of the way.

"Royal Command Force Omega," Billy responded, "Badassery defined."

Jim shared a glance with Havah, but Palso said nothing as he returned his eyes to the sky and ships above. Havah merely shrugged. Turning around he started grabbing any good bottles he could and stash them in the helm as if it was a carry bucket. Once full he merely would toss out a low brand for a high brand or a part full for a fuller bottle.

Meanwhile Jim and Bill continued to talk and Havah continued to listen. "Care to explain?" Jim asked, holstering his blaster pistol.

"Omega handles all Outside Galaxy threats to the Kingdom of Jod. The presence of a Cimmerian Hell Rider is automatically triggered through a vast array of sensors and other devices spaced throughout the galaxy, including physical assets. Hell Riders cannot breathe without us knowing it in the Outside Galaxy. Once detected, either a Royal Command Force or Royal Command Unit---depending on assessed threat and location of the Hell Rider---is immediately deployed. If they arrive too late,

"Ah-uh," Jim replied.

Billy smiled as he glanced towards Palso, "Oh, don't worry mercenary. I'm not spilling the beans like an idiot. I'm purposely telling you this."

Well, one could always hope, but should never bank on an idiot. Just like the array in the game.

"I was hoping you were an idiot," Jim admitted, not taking his eyes off the ground shaking ship as it landed in one of the nearest docking bays, a cloud of dust and dirt flying upwards and covering everything within range as it landed.

"Don't worry," Billy said, "They're not here for us. They don't even know we are here. But I would suggest we move and move quickly. They detain all relative witnesses and I hear interrogations can get nasty sometimes, including the standard memory wipe of recent events. But sometimes the memory wipes go bad and people are left to become crazies, stuck in their minds and babbling crazy things. Not a pleasant way to live the rest of your days."

"No," Jim replied, "It's not," Palso turned to Havah, "Havah, you were ex spec ops. We need to move and move undetected back to the Hunk of Junk---on the far side of that ship that just landed! You will know how these troops search and in what patterns."

"That Hammer Strike-class Landing Craft that just landed will be deploying fifty-eight Strategic Assault Troopers. They'll be securing the area and setting up an immediate perimeter, with additional patrols and search teams as needed," Billy offered, just as ropes flew down from up above as a Sentinel-class Patrol Craft blasted into view overhead, sending everything not secured flying by it's powerful engines and hovering! Jim had to hold onto his hat as he reached for his S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol and un-holstered it, "Ten Naval Reconnaissance Troopers---best of the best! Their here to deal with the Hell Rider."

As the human forms started roping down, Jim looked at Havah, "Havah! We need to move NOW!"

Dropping the bottle he had been trying to read the label and proof of he sighed heavily as he turned back, "FINE!" Raising an arm he made a circle up and come motion in the air as he walked away. Having come here several times he knew the common exits, the hidden exits, and the unusual exits. Most likely the teams would move on the doors and be busy containing the squirters - I.E. those that were trying to make a run for it. Like they were.

Now of course they could of tried to stun a few guys and steal their uniforms to sneak out, sounds rather fanciful and dreamlike. Problem was grabbing them and then not getting noticed because one of the party was obviously an alien and not the proper species to be wearing that uniform.

So instead he aimed for a window that would drop them behind some cover outside. From there they could sneak around. Waiting to slip behind approaching patrols and zig-zag their way to their ship. From there, well from there it would be a whole other story. Although he had a feeling he would have to sacrifice a bottle of booze one way or another.

TAG @Bravo

 

IC: Commodore Valentino Mazzanti
Bridge, Darkest Night, low orbit over Bakura


Mazzanti glanced towards the holo imagine, debating if it was time to tell her. Mazzanti turned his attention to Markova.

The Commodore kept his voice low, although not overly so as to draw attention, but so only Natalia could hear. "We lost contact with Chief Navigator Selef Vicxavie and a small team while they were surveying the entrance to the Unknown Regions on a top secret assignment to clear a path for the Darkest Night. We have strong evidence to indicate he and the rest of the team are deceased as of today. Hopes of live recovery are slim."

Mazzanti added, "You will be taking over Vicxavie's Senior Staff Quarters. We will have a crew clean it out today, you can move in this afternoon. You will be notified when the quarters are clear."

The chief comms officer beckoned for Mazzanti's attention, "Commodore, we have incoming from the surface with wounded."

Mazzanti nodded, adding, "Master Gunnery Chief Thunderstrike, open the bridge. Begin recovery efforts."

"As ordered, sir," Thunderstrike responded quickly.

Mazzanti dug into his pocket and retrieved a handful of the rank bars he always carried in his pocket---taking a quick moment to glance into his palm to make sure he had the right combination of rank codes (he always carried a collection of the rank bars for both enlisted & officer to do on-the-spot promotions as needed)---then turned his attention back to Natalia, "Normally, I would have a more official ceremony to highlight such an important promotion. However, urgency begets practicality," he finished pinning the last rank bar on her chest, before adding, "Chief Navigator," he added a moment later, "You have a helm to command and a navigational department to run."


TAG @galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Elena Shan
Leaving

Elena was quick to follow Business to a transport off planet. But she felt troubled and exhausted all at once as chatter came over their comm. This is the worst part of every battle.

She knew she would end up getting a report sooner or later, so Elena tried to focus on the here and now. And how badly she wanted to crawl into bed and lay there.

When the talk of wounded came over the comm. Elena tried to keep a calm demeanor. She hoped that whoever was wounded would make it. That they wouldn't be too badly maimed or have to be discharged as a result of their wounds.

Tag: @Bravo @TheAdmiral @Silvertough

 

OOG: Kids have been sick last few days. My wife and I have been taking turns and working half days at our jobs to manage it all. Sorry I am a day behind on posting.






IC: Master Sergeant Craig Anthony Stewart (DW-418121; "Animal")
Auxiliary Hanger, Darkest Night, leaving Orbit above Bakura


[Helmet Recording...recording...recording....recording....]
Personnel: Stormtrooper DW-418121
Unit: Joker Platoon, 2nd Squad, Team B

• Active: Master Sergeant Craig Anthony Stewart (Animal) (T-21B Heavy Blaster)
• Active: Trooper DW-418128 (Business) (E-22 Blaster Rifle)
• Active: Trooper DW-418127 (E-11 Blaster Rifle)

Date/Year: Monday, Year 7975 (C.R.C. Dating System)
Time: 07:28 hours (military time; 24-hour clock)
Location: Planet of Bakura (Wild Space)



Animal's helmet recording followed the medical team of three personnel---a physician assistant, a nurse, a medic---away from one of the cargo transports as they had the lower armored body of Falen Duryn (his torso stripped of armor and the combat wound clearly identified as a GH-7 Medical Analysis Unit hovered over the stretcher and had a full body imagine of the stormtrooper floating above the hover stretcher, showing vital signs and other information) on a hover stretcher. A paramedic jump kit (a hallmark of any medic) was in between the wounded stormtrooper's legs, the bag partially opened and the area around it littered with used medical tape, bandages, and other equipment as the paramedic was knelt over the stormtrooper's legs as he performed initial cleaning and life saving measures on the identified wound. The droid's holo imagine showed the intrusion of the paramedic's equipment into the wound, the cleaning, and the applied bandages.

The best technology and professionals available in the galaxy would ensure the Empire had a soldier to live and fight another day.

As the stretcher and the medical personnel disappeared towards the nearest GenMed attached to the auxiliary hanger to specifically handle combat injuries and other unique "away mission" wounds, Animal took his helmet off and put it in between his torso and elbow as his heavy blaster was slinged over his other shoulder and looked to the gathering stormtroopers, giving them all a silent nod of approval, before turning to the medic who was overseeing Lieutenant Shan. The medic gave a nod and quickly packed up his things, before moving on.

"Lieutenant?" Animal asked, seeing if she was up to the task. She simply gave Animal a nod and the man looked to the gathered stormtroopers, some of them keeping their helmets on while others took their helmets off.

"We lost a good trooper today. Drink a cold one for Sergeant Aiden Gray tonight. Get to your bunks, get some rest. Expect a debrief from the stars at some po---"

"OFFICER ON DECK!" Business suddenly yelped.

The motley crew of stormtroopers turned to the direction of the approaching Major Hardneck and snapped to attention where they stood, showing anything but a smooth line of attention and rather a motley grouping of exhausted soldiers.

"At ease," Hardneck said as he closed the distance, a administrative staff captain of his immediate command standing behind him and off to the side quietly, in work attire for a non-combat situation, "Excellent job. All of you," he turned to Shan, "Especially those who fight wounded, Lieutenant. Your actions have been noted for a favorable review," the Major looked at everyone again, "We will mourn our dead with a drink and carry on as is expected of us. Sergeant Gray has been posthumously promoted to Staff Sergeant. We are coordinating with local planetary authorities and nearby Imperial commands to recover our dead. I wish I could say we have a day or two of rest ahead of us, but that would be a lie. Turn in your helmets to the deck officer of the hanger for mission review and get some bunk time or chow. Two hours until debrief. Conference Room TB-A Three in the Trooper Barracks. Dismissed."

As the major walked away with his admin captain in tow, Animal watched as everyone else---seasoned with the routines of these things---started to dismiss themselves. There was no further need for anyone else to dismiss them. Soon---if by chance or some other reason---Animal, Shan, and Stark were left.

Animal looked to the other two, "Grub?"


******


"How is he?" Eyes asked from behind the nurse, the woman all but jumping and dropping the data-pad. The scout trooper had already turned in his helmet for review---well, what was intact and left of his helmet at least---leaving his blue alien face sticking out of the dirtied white stormtrooper armor.

"An alien!" the woman screamed, getting everyone's attention in the medical bay.

"Yes," Eyes replied calmly, "I am glad you are so observant."

"Hey you!" barked a medic as he approached the blue-skinned Chiss from a few beds down, "You are not allowed in here!"

"I would say your security is lacking, then," Eyes stated flatly and without emotion.

"You cannot be in here. I will call security on you!" the man demanded.

"I am here to check on him," Eyes nodded to Falen Duryn who floated in the bacta tank behind the terrified nurse.

"It is none of your business," the man replied, looking the Chiss up and down with disgust, "Now get out!"

"He is my sniper unit partner," Eyes calmly replied, although a inner rage was starting to form deep inside of him, "It is all of my business. What happens to one of us, affects the other one. Such is life."

"I said," the medic replied, putting a hand on the alien's shoulder, "Get out alien. Only humans are stormtroopers."

"I see," Eyes replied and in a flash, had the medic turned downwards on the floor with the man's hand behind his back and the medic's other arm twisted and pinched to the ground awkwardly with his knee, while and Eyes' duty pistol shoved up against the man's temple.

"Let go! Let go!" the medic pleaded in pain.

Eyes pressed the blaster pistol harder against the man's temple, "Humans only, huh? Good thing you're not a stormtrooper. You wouldn't make it past basic training."

The scout trooper let the man go and holstered his blaster pistol, "Now, again, how is my comrade?"

"He's stable," answered a doctor from in the back, making his way forward, "For now."

"How long?" Eyes asked, staring the doctor down.

"In the bacta? If he survives the initial stages, a few hours. Maybe less, maybe more. He was wounded pretty bad. But its isolated, so it reduces the overall healing time and any bacta complications."

Eyes nodded, seeing a collection of half a dozen Imperial Navy Troopers walk into the medical bay, their eyes on the scout trooper. Apparently someone had made a call.

Without another word, the Chiss turned on his heel and walked out, staring the Imperial Navy Troopers down who parted ways to let the stormtrooper past. Two of the navy troopers followed casually to ensure Eyes didn't cause anymore trouble, while one stood guard inside the medical bay and the other three started collecting reports.


TAG @TheSilentInfluence , @Silvertough , @TheAdmiral

 

OOG: Bringing us back together TIE Pilots! @Sinrebirth , I am leaving the end result of the Black 13 situation up to you to decide (read below).


******


IC: Flying Officer Rick Johnson, Major Héctor Pérez
Rear Primary Hanger, Darkest Night, leaving Orbit above Bakura


Johnson sighed as he took off his helmet within the confines of his TIE Fighter cockpit.

Nothing. Not a single aerial engagement. Not a single aerial kill. The shuttle escort back had been uneventful, although there was a brief scare of enemy engagement with comms being blacked out by jamming. The enemy, however, ultimately backed off and retreated once the prized transports were in the air (an aerial capture and boarding was just too complex, even by Imperial standards----space boarding was much more predictable and even safer).

Turr had proved his skill. Although he wondered what the fallout would be of the Black 13 situation? Did the Flying Officer make the right call? Regardless, at least Turr saw action! He could pin that proud moment on his chest, regardless of what the results would be. A memory he could retell for years to come, even into his retirement years.

Saraali had taken a text book maneuver and applied it in the "real world". Was it possible? A course, it was text book. Was it doable in the chaos of a real combat situation? Well, that was debatable. Saraali had proved the latter, which took skill and with it plenty of praise. Regardless, ace status was bestowed upon the pilot for the text book kill shot.

He glanced looked out the viewport of his cockpit and saw the groups of techs and fans gathered around the two TIE Fighters of Turr and Saraali. Some wanted first-hand accounts, others wanted to heap congratulations, and still others wanted autographs and photos.

Autographs and photos.

Let that sink in.

He dismissed the throng of supporters and admirers around the two TIE pilots---but he did give an additional parting glance of jealously before unstrapping his crash webbing with a huff and climbed out of the TIE's ball iconic cockpit.

Even Héctor Pérez had his own throng of supporters, as he had surpassed 7 kills. The "Legend" still had it.

Two aces in one squadron and a pilot with a story that would last a lifetime.

What did Rick have to show for it?

He handed his helmet off to the lone droid that decided to come and celebrate his lonely arrival, as the droid's organic masters were too busy celebrating. Propping himself up on the ball cockpit's exterior with his elbows, he looked out across at the transports that were just now powering down and a line of stormtroopers that were the "heroes of the day" departing them.

What was so darn important in those transports?


TAG @Sinrebirth , @Darth_Elu

 

IC: Sergeant First Class Adrias Stark
Auxiliary Hanger, Darkest Night, leaving Orbit above Bakura

They left Bakura soon after. The whole ordeal left a sour taste in his mouth. Why were there in the first place? Also, what was the Empire going to do with the government that had allowed such treachery to happen?

Those questions were above his pay-grade but one could wonder. Normally such a blatant attack would warrant a full scale invasion, arrest and execution of the traitors and forceful pacification of the populace.

But the Darkest Night had a different mission. Must be very important if they shrug off an ambush and just leave. Adrias was not sure whether he liked that prospect. On one hand he did not cherish the idea of occupying a world and start rounding up civilians who dared to look at them funny. On the other, they were sent to the great unknown on a mission that only the higher ups knew about…

Adrias commed the med center to check on the wounded soldier. The news were not very good, but if he was still alive there was some hope. The doctor complained about an alien threatening him and causing a commotion. Adrias sighed inwardly, that was to be expected, but will have to talk to Eyes, reprimand him even. Hopefully that would placate the medic and he would not escalate the situation further.

An idea started to form in his mind, so he took his datapad and typed a brief message to Lieutenant Shan. He knew he was taking a risk, but could not hurt to try.

“Hello Lt., I was wondering whether you would like to have a drink after the shift is over?
Sgt. Stark”

He hesitated for a moment, then pressed SEND.

TAG: @Bravo @TheSilentInfluence

 

IC: Elena Shan
Darkest Night

Elena was happy to be away from that place, although they had suffered loss. It had given her an uneasy feeling from the start, and being back with her squad made her a little more at ease, especially after she had been cleared by the medic.

She paid attention as best she could as Major Hardnevk spoke. She was up for a favourable review? Elena straightened up and felt pleased. That's going to make Erik and grandfather proud.

As they were dismissed she glanced as Animal. Elena hadn't realised how hungry she was and wanted to get some food into her before their debrief.

She glanced down as she got a message, read it and typed a quick answer.

Hey Sergeant,

Sure, if I don't fall asleep after the debrief.

LT. Shan

Tag: @Bravo @Silvertough @TheAdmiral

 

OOG: Sorry its late, BAR. First opening weekend in 2 years at CRF and with two kids instead of one---wiped my wife and I a bit out.

*****

IC: Billy & Jim Palso
Aces' Club, Belkadan's solo and sand-swept & desolate moon; Belkadan Moon Monastery


Palso ducked behind the low waist-level wall as a patrol of 2 Strategic Assault Troopers swept by, the corridors, walkways, and paths all but abandoned except for ownerless animals and the sand. This was not this patrol's first go-around, a squad level of 9 of them had swept through earlier and collected witnesses. These 2 troopers were detached from the main squad and securing a rotating sweep. Around the corner before their approach, a single Strategic Assault Trooper stood sentry near an intersection while another fourth trooper patrolled the metal walkway above.

As the 2 troopers rushed by, comm chatter could be heard as several voices appeared over the comms.

Jim took another glance up from his crouched position to ensure the two troopers were gone and then he took a quick glance at the trooper up above---that one had continued on across the walkway and was almost out of sight. But Jim knew he would be returning. He did, the mercenary had tracked him.

Ducking back down under the cover of the wall, Jim looked at Billy and said in hushed tones, "Okay, we've been sitting here for over five minutes! We escaped from that window ten minutes ago! Where the heck is Havah? I've counted and recounted how long it takes that patrol to sweep through this one area. And their security sweeps outside of patrols are pretty standard. What in the Corellian Nine Hells are we waiting for?"

"You would never make it in the military," Billy commented with a smirk, "Let alone spec ops."

"Never wanted to," Palso replied.

"It shows," Billy commented dryly and then looked up to the mercenary, "I just texted Jeth the information you relayed. Like I told you before, he's scouting ahead. Like he did before. Easier for one man to move instead of three. As he clears the way for us, it will be a straight shot for us."

"You texted him for the third time."

"Yes, for the third time."

"And where is Havah? For the third time."

"Third time is a charm," Billy replied, nodding towards Jeth's head appearing out of a door (with his hand waving) up ahead down the corridor that snaked in behind the waist-high wall and ran along the street and into an alleyway behind the businesses up against the main street.

"About time," Palso grumbled.

"I thought you said you two worked together?" Billy asked as he lead the two down the corridor that turned into a covered alleyway, keeping low.

"Yeah, but he and Winterkill did all the snooping around. I just did the shooting."

"Explains a lot."

"Shove it," Palso replied.

When the two arrived to Havah's location, a single Strategic Assault Trooper was unconscious near the doorway, but pulled into the shadows to prevent an easy viewing. It was Havah's handy work. The man was alive.

"I thought you said stealthy, no enemy contact?" Palso cited Havah as the trio went inside the business and stayed low, "What if the Jod do comm checks and he does not respond?"

Outside the business, a patrol of two troopers walked by, reminding the trio that they were not out of this yet. Although luckily Palso could see the Hunk of Junk just beyond, about a block away. They were almost there.



TAG @Mitth_Fisto

 

Flying Officer Saraali Deatar IC:
~Rear Primary Hangar, Darkest Night~

Upon settling back into the Hangar on board the Darkest Night, Saraali noted the throng of people coming to rush her ship. As her emotions began to settle back down into their normal mode, given that she was out of combat and would soon be leaving the cockpit (the only place she ever let the ice in her blood thaw, without even intending to); it took her a minute or so to figure out why.

The memory of her laughing at Nine through the radio, the explosions of the bombers and an escort or two as she utilized their own weaponry against them while landing hits of her own, it all flashed through her mind. True, her TIE was in pretty rough shape after all that. But she had proven the old adage.

No pain, no gain.

She had earned those kills and the others best know it!

Undoing her webbing and starting to come out of the cockpit hatch, she was greeted with the questions and adoration. This, more than any enemy fire, made her pause. The recognition she did appreciate, quietly, but the rest was a bit much. It almost made her skin crawl. While it had been a job most well done, she had to confess, at the same time...it was only her job. They should know that better than anyone else.

Ignoring some pats on her shoulder, she slid off her helmet and tossed back her hair to get it out of her face. She gave a small smile, just one mind you, and began to slowly push through the crowd. There was a debriefing protocol to adhere to, lest they forget. As she moved, she allowed a couple retellings of what happened on her end (though she was rather professional and matter-of-fact about it rather than the grandiose version they likely had wanted) and murmured thank you about a dozen times to the congratulations she received.

The autographs and photos? Those threw her for a loop. She waved them off with a look of incredulity. She was no legend in the air, maybe one day, but not right now. This had been her first real combat mission, that was all. Way to jump the blaster.

A humbling thought, to be honest.

As soon as she could escape the throng, she did so and waited near the exit of the Hangar. The debriefing was important, but there was enough time for this. She had seen Rick a few moment ago, though mostly hidden because of those surrounding her before, but had lost sight of him now. The one she did see and was waiting on was her wingmate. Turr Kya.

There were some questions on her mind that she wanted to ask, if possible. Judging by how he seemed despite his own crowd, he was in no mood to talk. Unfortunately for him, she couldn't care less.

When he arrived beside her, inevitably having to pass by that way, she'd fall back into step beside him. Before he could quicken his pace or any other tactic, she'd speak.

"Well," she opened, "What happened?"

He would know exactly what she was referring to.

Tag: Admirers, Turr, & Anyone Else @Sinrebirth @Bravo

 

IC: Lance Corporal Falen Duryn
Medical Bay, Darkest Night - Orbit of Bakura

"Bacta.. Right.." Falen's lips moved sluggishly, furtively, as teeth met the hard rubber of the oxygen hose firmly attached to his face. It was a familiar sensation, being encased in a tank of bacta. A habit the young stormtrooper unwittingly managed to continue indulging. But, his own predilections aside, waking up inside a bacta tank meant one thing above all else. He was alive.

Or was he? The outside world, if there was one, was hazy, muted from his place in the liquid tank. Every once in a while, vague shadows would float across the edges of his vision, specters that would ramble incoherently for a time, before vanishing. Were they doctors, simply checking up on their patient? Or.. Something far more sinister! The shadow-things hadn't approached Falen's tank for quite awhile now, maybe they had gotten bored?

Time was screwey in the tank. How long had he even been in here? Days? Years? Minutes? He couldn't make heads or tails of it. But, he didn't need to, did he? That was for all the doctors and droids and nurses to keep track of. No, all Falen needed to do was relax and enjoy the rhythmic undulations of the Bacta. Unless it wasn't bacta! What, what if he had just been swallowed up by a vicious beast! No, he needed to break free! Why couldn't he move! Why couldn't-!

The tank hummed softly, and his racing mind slowed, calmed. Anxieties faded away into the pale void of the glass, leaving Falen to bob up and down in bliss. Once more, like so many times before, Falen Duryn drifted off to sleep, oblivious to the world outside the comforts of the tank..

Tag: @Bravo

 

IC Natalia Markova
Darkest Night

"We lost contact with Chief Navigator Selef Vicxavie and a small team while they were surveying the entrance to the Unknown Regions on a top secret assignment to clear a path for the Darkest Night." Natalia felt her heart drop just a little. This was an eventuality she was warned about. They were nearing places that few returned from, and those that do are forever changed. Though she was concerned Chief Vicxavie was a skilled and experienced navigator. For him to be lost to the black bode ill for the rest of the mission. She wouldn't let that deter her, there was a mission to complete and they as servants of the Empire could not turn it away. "We have strong evidence to indicate he and the rest of the team are deceased as of today. Hopes of live recovery are slim."

"You will be taking over Vicxavie's Senior Staff Quarters." The Commodore continued. "We will have a crew clean it out today, you can move in this afternoon. You will be notified when the quarters are clear."

That fulfilled one of her requests, if she recalled correctly the Senior Staff Quarters were closer to the bridge making getting from her quarters to that much faster. That it came at the loss of her former commander had an added sting. It didn't show on her face the worry and the anxiety of stepping into a place of responsibility at such a young age. Mazzanti was distracted with recovery efforts for the forces on the ground. It gave her a moment to breathe to focus on her new job.

She saw him rifle around in his pocket finding the correct rank bars for her new position. There was barely time for her to stand at attention as he moved to pin them to her chest.

"Normally, I would have a more official ceremony to highlight such an important promotion. However, urgency begets practicality,"

The young navigator was thankful to skip the ceremony, it would be her in front of thousands of beings she didn't know. And all the small talk afterwards at some party or function. No this was much more preferable, it avoided all the social interactions that were so draining.

"Chief Navigator," His voice echoed in her mind, the weight of the rank bars felt heavy on her heart."You have a helm to command and a navigational department to run."

"Yes sir." She replied snapping off a crisp salute. Returning to her station she nodded to Trotter thanking him for covering her station. Taking her seat she double checked her heading and then...looked at the other navigators under her command, her heart beating faster and faster. Could she really do this, could she really command? Then the data from the former Chief came over and her eyes widened. All his notes, all his theories and conjectures. It was like finally getting to read the book you always wanted to.

Then a thought passed transiently through her mind.

This could make her after hours investigations easier. Who of the rank and file would question someone of such great importance.

Though it was just a passing thought. She had much work to do.

TAG: @Bravo

 

IC: Havah Jeth
Aces' Club, Belkadan's solo and sand-swept & desolate moon; Belkadan Moon Monastery

Leaning out to signal on que to the time table he had mentally running, Jeth was not surprised to see a grumpy looking Palso and a bemused or confused Billy responding to the summons. The came soon enough that they should have had a couple seconds grace incase someone started walking a little quicker, but honestly these JOD seemed very professional and kept a steady pace. It was something Jeth definitely appreciated, even you could never bank on their being an outlier in the group.

The single Strategic Assault Trooper that was unconscious near the doorway, but pulled into the shadows to prevent an easy viewing, was proof enough of that.

"I thought you said stealthy, no enemy contact?" Palso cited Havah as the trio went inside the business and stayed low, "What if the Jod do comm checks and he does not respond?"

Outside the business, a patrol of two troopers walked by, reminding the trio that they were not out of this yet. Havah wished he could sign to Palso and have the man understand what he was telling him. Yet another reason to wish that he was doing this with Winterkill. Instead he simply raised the mans comms and handed it over to Billy, signing him to remain quiet until the patrol had passed, "Octave lower and curt. Relieving break. Or chance it." Havah said with a non-committal shrug. Billy would know if such a thing would work, otherwise they were no worse off then when they had begun.

Palso already had those laser eyes for his ship the Hunk of Junk that was now just in view, about a block away. They were far from there. The last step of any clandestine journey was always the most dangerous and most likely to be the point where you slipped up and got killed.

"Keep your eyes out Palso." he simply stated as he took a piece of chalk from a pouch and marked out a little map on his forearms armor piece. Tapping with a glove finger where they were, then pointing where they go, finger count down to when next to the next mark. Of course all of this could fall apart, but they were close and only had one way they could really go.

TAG @Bravo

 

IC: Billy & Jim Palso
Aces' Club, Belkadan's solo and sand-swept & desolate moon; Belkadan Moon Monastery


Billy said, "Octave."

It was best to keep to the plan, instead risk going off note. Everything was basically a miracle, even with the best laid plans, natural phenomenons did happen. So it was best to play it safe and let the music play as it wanted to. Maybe the phenomenon would come out in their favor.

Billy looked at Palso, "I will bring up the rear."

"No wild blasters to my back," the Corellian responded honestly, showing he did not trust the man.

"I know how to handle these type of spec ops types. You'll need to trust me."

Palso looked at Havah, but the man was already heading out. It was Havah's way of letting Palso know what he thought.

Jim took the hint and looked at Billy as he filed in behind Havah, making sure his blaster pistol was ready. "No funny business."

"You have my word," Billy said.

"Okay, Havah," Palso said as the alien looked back ensuring the other two were ready, "Get us there."

If Palso was the betting man---which he was---he bet that Havah would make a b-line for the next shop across the street and hide in the shadows created by the overhang and the next building's corner. Then hop the next street over before they were at the ship.

It was then that Palso watched as a fireteam of those Jod troopers made a double step towards the way of the Hunk of Junk. While their view was somewhat obstructed with the buildings and the docking bay partly behind the buildings, it looked as if the fireteam of 4 troopers were talking with two other troopers standing by the light freighter. Did their ride home just get recognized? Soon the fireteam of troopers went into the docking bay proper and out of sight, not letting the 3 escapees know if the troopers were boarding the ship or not.

There would only be one way to tell: they would have to get close and check it out. And when they did, they just might have to fight their way out of here.....


TAG @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Pack & Sandy
Senior Staff Officer Quarters; Darkest Night


"And you do not think it is weird?" Pack pressed his comrade as they made the final preparations of the staff quarters. They were packing Chief Navigator Selef Vicxavie's last things, getting ready to transition the living space to a newly promoted Natalia Markova.

"Weird, what?" Sandy asked, as he vacuum sealed the last remnants of clothing.

"Ya know," Pack said, looking at the holo imagine of what Selef considered family back on Coruscant and turning the holo off as he packed it into a hard case for extra protection, "Packing a dead man's room."

Sandy shrugged as he collected the other two vacuum sealed packages, "It is part of life," Sandy said, nodding to the door where three cleaning droids stood waiting for their commands, "It is their turn."

"Sure," Pack said, sealing the hard case with a click and collected the container in between his elbow and torso; as he followed Sandy out the room, he stopped at the trio of droids, "The room is all yours fellas," the alien secured his container onto the holo sled as Sandy began pushing it gently towards their destination.

"Next stop?" Sandy asked.

Pack withdrew the datapad from his work coveralls, tapping a few buttons, "Officer Quarters; Senior Crew Officer Quarters. A Captain Markova."

"You mean Senior Commander Markova. She's a Senior Staff Officer now."

Pack rolled his eyes, "Just another person to salute."

"We salute everyone," Sandy reminded him.

"Its called satire," Pack replied; he added, "Hey, isn't that Captain Markova the woman who's quarters we had to inspect for faulty wiring a few days ago."

"Senior Commander," Sandy replied, adding, "Yes. Then Captain Markova needed repairs done."

"Right," Pack replied, adding as the pair stood aside for a pair of Stormtroopers to walk off the turbolift as they got on with the hover-sled, "Has anyone told her her quarters are moving yet?"

Sandy paused a finger over the level interface, "I don't think so."

"Comms still down?" Pack asked.

Sandy check his comlink and static came across, "Looks like it. The tech boys better get that communications module fixed. We'll be passing notes here soon enough."

"It's only internal comms," Pack replied, adding, "Some space debris knocked the exterior comm dish out of alignment during the battle with the pirates. Exterior comms are back up and running, but something was damaged with the interior communications lines."

"Still," Sandy said as he pushed a button for the bridge, "Still frustrating."


***

Exterior of sealed bridge doors


"And you are...who again?" asked the Imperial Navy Trooper at the closed bridge doors; the trooper shared a glance with his comrade, who rested a hand on the holster of his blaster.

"What the datapad says," Sandy replied, nodding to the code rank cylinder the man had inserted into the datapad to check identification, "Ensign Sandy."

"What is your last name? No one goes by just a first name in the Empire," asked the other trooper, who glanced towards Pack, "And who's the short stack?"

"Smarter than you, that is for sure," Pack mouthed-off to the dismissive trooper with his hand on his blaster's holster.

The trooper smiled with evil, "Watch your tongue, alien."

Sandy could see the pair was only going to cause problems with their hover-sled behind them as these two security troopers were less than ideal to deal with. One was clearly skeptical about Sandy, the other was clearly racist towards Pack.

"Not everyone in the Empire has a last name," Sandy replied, adding, "Especially ones with special clearances."

The skeptical trooper chuckled, "What? You special ops disguised as repair techs?"

"Obviously they disguise idiots as security troopers," Pack voiced.

Sandy closed his eyes. Not a good choice of words.

"Okay tough guys," the racist trooper said, signaling the pair of stormtroopers standing off to the side of the closed blast doors to the bridge (the pair walked to be standing to the side of the pair of techs and their hover-sled (the faint sounds of comms could be heard from the inside of their helmets), "I think we all could use some time at the Security Office."

Those comms from the stormtroopers---on private channels and with their exterior speakers turned off----were sent somewhere important, because 9 Imperial Navy Troopers appeared out of a side-door, fully equipped and armored. Clearly a quick response team, but the team made their approach loosely and disorganized, clearly not taking the threat seriously. Or so it would seem. The loose formation allowed them to surround the pair of techs and their sled quickly and without making the situation worse. Down the long hallway, another pair of stormtroopers appeared from a side-corridor, coming to a stop a ways back, but keeping a steady eye on the proceedings.

"Great," Sandy muttered, then added louder, "Look, this was all a big misunderstanding. All we're doing here is to see the new senior commander, Natalia Markova," he gestured between himself and Pack, then back to the hover-sled, "We are headed to her old quarters. But with internal comms down, we decided to make a stop here to let her know. Because with the quick promotion and all, I doubt she's had time to pack her things. We need to see what she needed moved."

"Or also known as," Pack added with a smirk, "Being polite."

One of the two closet stormtroopers spoke up through his exterior comms mic, "Personnel files still list her as a captain."

"Ah," Pack said, "You bucketheads can access the ISD's database. Clever."

"Put your hands up!" the other stormtrooper commanded, pointing a E-11 Blaster Carbine at the pair (everyone around them drawing blasters as well), "That is classified information!"

"Was classified," Pack clarified, "You just spilled the beans soldier."

"Just shut-up Pack!" Sandy forced through gritted teeth as he held his hands up high.

"Hands-up I said!" the stormtrooper commanded again, pointing his blaster at Pack, "Now or you will be blasted!"

"No," Pack said, crossing his arms over his chest, "Get Senior Commander Markova out here. And this will all be solved. She will remember us from a few days ago. What, you think we're here as spies or something for the pirates or rebels? Like the hover-sled is full of explosives and we're here to blow up the bridge?"

Sandy rolled his eyes, "By the Force, Pack! Shut your---"

A volley of blue ringed stun bolts surrounded the pair from all sides and they collapsed.


TAG @galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Patrick Fredrick Jones (DW-418131---"Old Man")
Auxiliary Hanger, General Medical Bay, Darkest Night


"I heard there was an issue with one of my troopers," Jones said evenly, causing the doctor to jump and all but drop his data-pad onto the floor.

The doctor turned, smoothing out his flowing hair atop his head with a look of frustration, "Do any stormtroopers knock around here?"

"No," Jones said plainly as he stood with his legs shoulder width apart and his hands behind his back, "We serve the emperor and as such, have free reign."

"And to pull a weapon on my staff?" the doctor asked.

"Not acceptable," Jones said, adding, "Major Hardneck received the report from the SO. With Second Squad otherwise indisposed from the recent mission, Major Hardneck sent me down to check on the situation. After reviewing the reports from the SO, we have concluded that any filed charges can be filed with the ranking medical officer for this medical bay. That would be you, doctor."

The doctor felt he was staring down death itself with the uniformed stormtrooper, his armor replaced with the fine black NCO work uniform while not in combat armor. Even without his armor---or because the lack of it---the man looked like he was ready to tear his head off and worse yet, the doctor doubted the stormtrooper NCO would feel a single emotion about doing it.

"No," the doctor shook his head, "No charges are needed. It was a misunderstanding."

"Are you sure?" the Old Man asked.

The doctor took a glance at the bacta tank where Lance Corporal Falen Duryn bobbed in the bacta liquid. The doctor turned his attention back to the stormtrooper NCO, "I am sure. He was looking after his comrade."

"So be it," Jones replied, adding with a nod towards the bacta tank, "How is the Lance Corporal doing?"

"Better then expected, at least for bacta. He can be released early, but he'll be restricted to light duty for forty-eight hours."

"An hour?" Jones said, indicating the amount of time its been since the shuttle arrived with the wounded man, "That seems fast. Even for bacta."

"As I told your scout trooper who pulled the weapon on us, his wound was isolated, while severe. Because of its isolation, we were able to inject bacta directly into the wound after surgery, using top secret nanotechnology to speed the process. As you said, Sergeant Major, you serve the emperor. The emperor wants his soldiers back to the frontlines as soon as possible."

Jones raised an eyebrow, "Why were we not briefed on this technology?"

The doctor smiled, "Top secret, Sergeant Major. Although if it eases your curiosity, I can say the Darkest Night is currently the only star destroyer authorized to use the technology for testing purposes."

"I see," Jones replied, hating to be used as some twisted doctor's experiment.


***

Five minutes later


Jones stood back and waited as the droid and organic prepared the Lance Corporal from the tank. Soon a simple hospital gown was covering the man as the privacy curtains were rolled back from around the bed and the droid and female nurse departed, the nurse giving the Sergeant Major the go ahead to meet the Lance Corporal.

"Lance Corporal Duryn," Jones said as he took a few steps forward, "How are you feeling, young man?"


TAG @Silvertough