Star Wars The Rebellion

IC: Ghost
Aboard the Demeter

With a quiet ?Yes, sir,? at Emil as the other man directed him to the navicomputer, Ghost sat down and got to work.

Nobody batted an eye. His uniform, name badge, and ID chit all said he was Systems Technician Samol Anders, temporarily assigned to the Demeter to assist Emil Sarik for the duration of this cruise. And anyway the bridge crew was used to him by now - for the last three days he had been sitting at some console or another, crawling around in the wiring that connected the bridge to the rest of the ship, and generally assisting Emil with whatever the security consultant wanted done. At first the officers had taken to hovering over his shoulder as he worked, but they all invariably gave it up after they watched him run the tenth near-identical simulation, make a note, and then repeat the entire sequence again without pause or variation. And again. And again.

Obscurity by boredom, Ghost called it. Even the most tenacious observer gave up eventually if the subject was sufficiently uninteresting.

And it had paid off, for he now had completely unsupervised access to the ship?s navicomputer. Not only had most of the crew gone for lunch, the two officers remaining barely glanced at him as he flicked the screen on and plugged in his datapad.

A simulation popped up on-screen - or so anyone would think. It looked just like the simulations he had been running for three days, but unlike the sims for the weapons systems, scanners, and comm systems, this one was designed to send a set of very specific instructions to the navicomp when he entered the corresponding code. Simple, elegant, and even plausible if his intrusion was detected: a security consultant would naturally expect to probe the integrity of the system. He had even done so, clumsily, on the sensor and comm suites (and taken the condescending smirks of the corresponding officers with a shrug and an apologetic smile, when his attempts invariably failed).

Ghost didn't plan to be detected this time.

Now ? how best to divert the ship? The slicer contemplated this as the first simulation ran, a one-minute standard systems check on the navicomp console. This was the only part of the mission he hadn?t locked in in advance, for it depended heavily on the level of security he found on-board. Even the Imperial military had subtle variations in security from ship to ship, largely dependant upon the commanding officer?s level of paranoia.

The Demeter?s captain didn?t appear to have much in that department - Ghost surmised that the man either trusted his crew or simply didn?t believe anyone would be brazen enough to sneak a slicer onto his bridge. His level-two plan should do the trick, then: a ?system update? of the ship?s navigation charts would make a gravatic mass appear in the path of their final leg, which in turn would cause the navicomputer to reevaluate the course and make an automated change. The hooks he was going to put in place would ensure that that automated change led them in the direction he wanted.

The console pinged: Simulation NC00001 had been a success. A few keystrokes initialized the next sim, a test of the navicomp?s ability to calculate standard jumps from point A to point B ? and made the first of the subtle changes his plan required.

So far so good. Ghost settled in to wait.

TAG: Sarge

 

Calia Ramos
Emancipator, Cargo Hold

The first thing Calia noticed, as she rode inside the cargo hold, was the fact that her perfume had begun to wear off. It wasn?t a horrible smell, her body odor, but it was still something to be wary of when there were other men within the vicinity. She didn?t care to impress a man, but a man degraded a woman even more if she stank. Calia took out a small swath of sterile wipes she carried in her satchel and not so subtly wiped her slender, pale arms. The eye-watering smell of the wipes would mask the odor. Calia turned to sniff when she noticed a handsome fellow fiddling with his weapon. Arsin Kondarr, if she correctly recalled. He was whispering to the man beside him. Another handsome man with just the right amount of stubble on his face. Calia smirked as she put her slender hand to her ear. Feeling along the outside, she touched the tip of her ear. Leaning forward, she listened to Arsin.

?Hey, El-Tee, I realize I haven?t been around the Rebellion long, but? is she really coming into a war zone with us??

Her smirk fell from her face. Another sexist remark from a male chauvinist. She almost rose from her spot and gave the creep a piece of her mind when the other man, Alexander Ducall, spoke.

"Sure is. She may be a pretty thing, but I hear she's a fair medic. You'll want that for when ya get shot up, trust me." He opened his eyes now and looked over at the young man who was now cleanin' his pistol. "Besides, you can protect her, can'tcha?" He winked at the kid before continuing. "'Sides, whatcha can't manage, Susan an' I'll be mor'an able ta' take care of, eh baby?"

Frowning, Calia rose from her seat. She stumbled to the seat in front of the two men and continued to glare at them. She would not let two men run over. Accuse her of being unable to do her job because she was a female. Letting her gaze rest, Calia took the blaster pistol from her belt and polished it. Simply polished it. She turned the muzzle to the men as she polished.

?So I hear you two men want to look out for poor little Calia. She?s a girl, so it?s obvious she can?t take care of herself.? She had been speaking with a soft voice, but then she rose and stood above the men, ?Well I can. And if you even have a flicker of a thought that I can?t take of myself, you better rethink it. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And I would be kind to me. . .? Calia began to walk back to her seat. ?Considering your life rests in my hands.?

TAG: UnknownRogue, JEDIGUNSHIP, docking_bay, Chuckles, and Sarge

 

Arsin Kondarr, Sapper
Emancipator, Cargo Hold

Arsin sighed and holstered his pistol, then closed his pack and sat back. "Sure is. She may be a pretty thing, but I hear she's a fair medic. You'll want that for when ya get shot up, trust me. Besides, you can protect her, can'tcha?" the El-Tee said to him. The accompanying wink gave Arsin's stomach butterflies, and he glanced over at Calia again. I wonder how old she is? "'Sides, whatcha can't manage, Susan an' I'll be mor'an able ta' take care of, eh baby?" Arsin zoned out, staring at the rotary blaster. He remembered it from Hoth.

Arsin scrambled out of the trench, turning and shooting as he did so. The imps were right on their heels, but he wasn't going to make it easy for them. After he had run twenty paces, he pulled out his detonator and pressed his favorite button. The trench behind him exploded, snowtroopers flying everywhere. Unfortunately, towards him as well. Shards of armor slammed into his back, and fiery pain shot through him. He landed hard in the snow, blood flowing and beginning to make a nice puddle. The sergeant grabbed him under his arm and dragged him to the transports. In the background, Arsin could see imps falling left and right, mowed down by that gun, giving the rest of the troops the time they needed to withdraw. Still, things had been close. If it hadn't been for that bearded surgeon...

Well, the El-Tee definitely pulled his weight back then. But does he carry that gun with him everywhere? Arsin remembered one of his college friends having a similar attachment to an excavation tool they had used in class. Of course, that was before he'd been fried by Seerdon's AT-STs. Just then, the pretty medic strolled over.

"So I hear you two men want to look out for poor little Calia. She?s a girl, so it?s obvious she can?t take care of herself. Well I can. And if you even have a flicker of a thought that I can?t take of myself, you better rethink it. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And I would be kind to me. . . Considering your life rests in my hands." How the kriff did she hear us!? We were whispering!

"No, please, I didn't mean it like that!" he exclaimed as she turned to leave. "It's just that... aw crap. Look, I'm no good with girls, I went to an engineering school. Do you know how many girl engineers there are? Not many. I didn't mean to offend you, I just have crappy people skills."

Tag: Chuckles38, spycoder9, UnknownRogue, JEDIGUNSHIP, Sarge(as Cpt. Treyax)

 

Calia Romas
Emancipator, Cargo Hold

?No, please, I didn?t mean it like that! It?s just that?aw crap. Look, I?m no good with girls, I went to engineering school. Do you know how many girl engineers there are? Not many. I didn?t mean to offend you, I just have crappy people skills.?

Calia actually felt pity for Arsin. Turning back to face him, she noticed his genuine embarrassment. She sat down beside him and placed her blaster in her pocket. Staring into her hands, she thought about what she was to say. Turning back to him, she tried to offer a smile. Something that would make him understand that she was sorry for going off on him. She had received so much criticism in her early days for being a female medic going into battle.

?Sorry about that. It?s just. . .? she let the silence come for several seconds, ?It is so hard being a woman in this day and age. You have to work for your respect. And when I heard you saying those things. . .I went nuts,? Calia then looked at both of them, ?Sorry to both of you.?

?You know,? she was only looking at Arsin now, ?You are pretty funny. I think I could get along with you just fine.? Calia?s face brightened. The moment a smile touched her lips, her whole face lit up. Putting one hand out, she looked from it to Arsin. When it came down to it, he was actually a charming man. ?No hard feelings? To either of you??

TAG: UnknownRogue, Chuckles, docking_bay, JEDIGUNSHIP, and Sarge

 

IC: Alexander Ducal
In a Cargo Hold. Mission Not Started Yet and Already Sparks are Flyin'

?So I hear you two men want to look out for poor little Calia. She?s a girl, so it?s obvious she can?t take care of herself.? She had been speaking with a soft voice, but then she rose and stood above the men, ?Well I can. And if you even have a flicker of a thought that I can?t take of myself, you better rethink it. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And I would be kind to me. . .? Calia began to walk back to her seat. ?Considering your life rests in my hands.?

Alex raised a brow at her comment. Now, Alex was a patient man most of the time... well, some of the time.... alright, he wasn't much for patience. The way he looked at it, when things deserved sayin' things deserved sayin', and now was one o' those times. He didn't take kind to little girls talkin' to him like that. Honestly, let's face it, he didn't take kindly to most anyone talkin' to him like that. Heck, he'd probably deck his own father for that comment. It's what made Alex good at his job. If he felt he didn't have to put up with it, he sure wouldn't put up with it.

The boy, Arsin, made an effort to cover. Worked well enough, Alex supposed, but not his cup of tea. Honestly, were it not so soon before a battle, he'd've probably torn into her quite good. As it was, unneeded distractions could be deadly. The medic settled down, apologized, and offered an olive branch to them both. It would probably work for the boy, but for Alex? Well, he wasn't feelin' none too forgivin'.

"Hard feelin's? Nah, sorry, I don't take kindly ta' medics who have a habit of threatenin' to not do their job out of petty pride." Alex shifted to look at her better. "Now, I know I'm not the finest speaker. I'm not a fancy man, but the son of a hunter from a backwater town on Tatooine. I can be rough aroun' the edges, but that don't change the fact that so long as you do your job, I don't care whatcha got between your legs. Don't stop me from doin' my job neither. My job is to shoot things, and I'm mighty good at it. My job is to shoot things before they shoot anything else on this boat. I'll always do my job. An' between the two of us, I ever hear ya even threaten' ta' not patch someone up who's bleedin' and dyin' for the Rebellion, you'll be answerin' ta me girl."

He leaned back and closed his eyes, his arms folded, as he pulled on his cigar again, his piece said. He exhaled, smoke streaming out and away from him. He thought it went well.

TAG: The Same As Before, Primarily Spy and Dock

 

Arsin Kondarr, Sapper
Emancipator, Cargo Hold

"Sorry about that. It?s just. . . It is so hard being a woman in this day and age. You have to work for your respect. And when I heard you saying those things. . .I went nuts. Sorry to both of you.? Is it really? On Chandrila, women have always had a say in the democracy. Her next words made his stomach flutter again, and he hoped he wasn't blushing. "You know, You are pretty funny. I think I could get along with you just fine. No hard feelings? To either of you?" She put her hand out to shake. Well, that's not the first time a woman's told me I'm funny. But, I don't suppose relatives count, so maybe it is? Ugh. She really is pretty, though. The El-Tee's comments were pretty rough, though.

"Hard feelin's? Nah, sorry, I don't take kindly ta' medics who have a habit of threatenin' to not do their job out of petty pride. Now, I know I'm not the finest speaker. I'm not a fancy man, but the son of a hunter from a backwater town on Tatooine. I can be rough aroun' the edges, but that don't change the fact that so long as you do your job, I don't care whatcha got between your legs. Don't stop me from doin' my job neither. My job is to shoot things, and I'm mighty good at it. My job is to shoot things before they shoot anything else on this boat. I'll always do my job. An' between the two of us, I ever hear ya even threaten' ta' not patch someone up who's bleedin' and dyin' for the Rebellion, you'll be answerin' ta me girl." Well, when he puts it that way... but no, she seems nice.

Arsin shook her hand and smiled back. Her face was radiant and her smile endearing, so he really couldn't help it. "No, no hard feelings." There was a pause. "So... when are we starting? I haven't heard anything from the captain in a while..." I'd actually rather just sit here and talk than go charging into battle again, even if it is supposed to be an easy one. Hoth certainly wasn't a pleasant experience, especially for my first real taste of warfare. I hope all battles aren't like that.

Tag: spycoder, Chuckles, UnknownRogue, JEDIGUNSHIP, Sarge

 

IC: Dinordo Yulafa
Enroute to Ambush Point

"This is Gold Leader calling for one last check in of the squadron, we should be moving to the target soon. Repeat, Gold Leader for squadron check, we should be making our move soon."

Dinordo knew he was worrying for nothing, but one lagging pilot could leave a gaping hole in his flight formation. He'd personally trained all of these pilots for this mission. He was no light Commander, he took himself, his job, and each one of his pilots lives very seriously. These pilots would be ready for anything. He'd spent every minute when they didn't have an upcoming mission training them for if they are caught away from their team, but when their missions came, Commander Yulafa was up all night planning the perfect formation for that specific flight.

This time, Dinordo was sure he'd planned for everything. He'd lost men before, and there was no feeling like it. The Commander felt as if he had shot them down himself. It usually wasn't his fault, but he could always find a way to trace it back to him. He had even go to the extent of sabotaging his pilots aircraft in flight so that they would have to deal with disasters in real time.

Now he just waited for the team to check in one final time, and they would make their move.

TAG: GM (for Xan), darthramza, Imperial_Hammer, Penguinator, and Burning_Endor

OOC: Cal Mord is NOT in my squadron or under my command, correct? Also, do I have any contact with Ghost or do I just need to trust he's done his job and move in?

 

Calia Romas
Emancipator, Cargo Hold

The moment Arsin shook her hand, the other man interjected.

Calia couldn?t believe her ears. She had offered an apology for her outburst, which had been preempted by the stress that always came before the mission. This man, Alex, or whatever the bloody hell his name was, wouldn?t except her apology because she had lied about not treating them for saying those hurtful things. She fumed as she turned away from the man. Tears began to build up in her eyes as she wondered how he assumed she would actually do such a thing. She had worked her life away trying to heal others. Her planet had died so that she could have life. She glanced back at the hurtful man, but he had closed his eyes and stuck a cigar in his mouth. She refused to reply to him. She would not stoop to his level.

Arsin spoke once again.

?No, no hard feelings. So? when are we starting? I haven?t heard one thing from the captain in awhile.?

?Thank you. . .? Calia murmured at his answer, ?And that is a good question.?

Calia caught herself staring at him. Arsin. She hurried and glanced away once again, but his eyes were so clear. Deep. Earnest. Trustworthy. Stop. Stop Calia. She tried to focus on the wall. Anything but his face. Because she knew that if she met his eyes, she would lose all resolve and melt away to him. And she just couldn?t do that.

TAG: Mainly Chuckles and docking, Sarge

 

Grynn Myrwrr
The Stag, en route to ambush point

Ideally, he'd have been flying with some harder beings than the old man and the inheritor. Humans were inherently soft and squishy, easy to break and puncture and fling about. Grynn Myrwrr always found it odd that they took to the black so regularly when it was clear that the universe was willing to kill them on a whim. He was suited to this, though, despite his large frame - Togorians were far hardier than other beings in the galaxy; they were more durable, their bones simply stronger than those of their fellows, their bodies better suited to resisting G-force and the like. He was the Dissenter's "Mad Cat" for a reason.

The thought of that amused him, and he bared his teeth as he flicked a switch. The comm flicked to life, opening a channel to command. "This is the Stag - nearing our position, over." He looked back in his freighter's cockpit - spacious, after his modifications - and gave his "crew" a cursory glance. He wasn't sure of the accountant's skills but understood the need for him here. But a Sienar? He didn't trust the man, whatever his intentions. And Marneg Polo was something else. The "doctor" had begun raving about...something, and worse, had begun to smoke. Grynn's nostrils flared at the scent, strong to his senses. He growled, low and angry, but held his tongue. Arguing with Polo was senseless, as the man invariably made little sense. Grynn wasn't keen on making friends with him.

"I'm Dr. Marneg goddamn Polo."

"And I am Grynn and this is my ship. Quiet." He checked his chrono. "We're early. You know the plan?"

Tag: Ramza, Impy, (Sarge)

 

IC: Tavil Gry?roti
Emancipator Cargo Hold

Tavil drummed his fingers on a nearby cargo box. He was nervous going into what probably would be a firefight. No doubt something would go awry in the plan; something always did. His job was to board the Sensor Array with the commando team, download the logs to gain any valuable information they may hold, and then get the hell out of there. Hopefully he would get decent cover while hacking into the Array?s logs, but, then again, he didn?t know exactly under what circumstances he would have to work with. Would the commandos be able to keep it quiet for him, or would he be having to half-hide underneath a console while waiting for the data to be downloaded in order to not be shot by a stray laser bolt? Theoretically it shouldn?t come down to that, but one never knew what these kinds of missions were going to entail. Virtually anything could happen out there on that Sensor Array . . .

The others in the cargo hold were certainly talking a lot. From what he could tell, there was a demolitions expert (always good to have one of those, eh?), a pretty-looking medic, and a man who seemed to be rather battle-hardened puffing on a cigarra. The group was talking back and forth quite a bit, some slighting comments and jarring responses being thrown around in the storm of words. Tavil just sat back and stayed silent; no need to get involved in any of this. What he needed to do was stay calm; the last thing the team needed was for him to bug out. If that occurred, well, the mission would go to pot really soon, which would probably result in a hasty retreat through the nearby mine field, with or without starfighter support. This mission was going to weigh heavily on his shoulders, wasn?t it?

TAG: Everyone on the Emancipator

 

IC: Teagan Niall
Dissenter - Hanger Bay


Weaving her way through the flurry of techs and mechanics, A female human jogged through the Dissenter?s expansive Hanger bay. The smell of engine lubricant and the sparks from freshly soldered metal filled the air as the hanger team worked quickly and efficiently, loading and prepping the Dissenter fleet for imminent deployment. Her small frame was clad in a dark green flight suit, a black flak vest and a standard pilot chest box, a well worn pilots helmet tucked under left arm. Her Teal coloured eyes soon fell on a small cluster of A-Wing star fighters. A small grin formed on her face as she looked upon the sleek star fighter. Hanger techs were busy erecting ladders for the pilots to board their craft. Ducking underneath her designated fighter Teagan Niall ran a hand along its underside, a look of satisfaction on her freckled face as she ducked back out from underneath and approached the tech handling the ladder.

She nodded her thanks to him as she climbed up at into the cockpit. Sliding down into the ships pilot seat, she started to commence her own pre-flight checks. The A-Wing, although a valuable asset to the Rebel Alliances fleet due to its speed and manoeuvrability, often attracted criticism from certain circles, due to its weaker shields and hull. Another point that was often picked on was the A-Wing?s lack of an astromech droid. This meant the pilot had to manually calibrate and operate weapons systems, as well as concentrating on operating the crafts already complex and highly sensitive controls. If a certain calibration was a few millimetres off, or if a system became unbalanced, it meant that the pilot could end up having a very bad day. This was why Teagan took the task very seriously. She both loved and feared her ship in equal measure, and that?s what helped keep her focused. She brought up her ship computer and ran a quick diagnostic. A schematic of the ship flickered up on the display and she was glad to see the numerous green blips indicating the core systems were fully functional and operational. Finally satisfied, all that was left was for the many squadrons to wait for the order to commence the mission

Removing a pair of sturdy gloves and a protective balaclava style head covering out of her helmet, she pulled them on before placing the helmet on her head and securing the strap. Flicking her comm channel open, she addressed the rest of the squadron

?Blue Three reporting in. Systems primed and ready ?


TAG: Sarge(GM) Sey, chanbill, The_Chesire_Cat, any pilot on the Dissenter

OOC: Pic of Teagan

[image=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v653/leightoonarmy/stana_katic_teagan_edit.jpg]

 

IC: Denton Vash
Location: Emancipator, Imperial Sensor Array

Denton Vash frowned as the sensor sweep updated his HUD. A map of the system was splayed out on the cockpit viewports in front of him. At the first sign of combat or anything more sophisticated then flying in a straight line, the HUD would clear, allowing for a clear view of space.

A new set of mines was being deployed as they arrived. Vash didn't like it. If it was up to him he would scrub the mission. To many unknowns got people killed. The comm unit buzzed for his attention. He keyed it and glanced at the unit.

"YT-2000 transport, we have you on our sensors. You are to land and dock at these coordinates and begin unloading your cargo immediately and then take off. Do not worry about any interruptions; just get your cargo in and your ship out."

Vash nodded, absently.

"Star's Litany acknowledged. Following your coordinates." Vash answered.

Denton had rigged his transponder for quick changes and had paid a hefty fee for acquiring seven legitimate transponder tags, the Litany being one of them.

"An out of the way hangar port. I was hoping to we'd be allowed to get a bit closer to where the databanks are supposed to be but this will have to do. But it sounds like Imperial security will ignore us for a while which is a plus and it doesn't seem like they know about us. I was starting to worry there, what with them happening to set up a mine field right when we're about to make our assault..."

Standing up straight, the Devaronian rolled his armored shoulders before he reached behind his back and pulled out an ACP Array Gun. Pulling the handle back, the captain loaded one of the eight cartridges in the shotgun with an intimidating pair of clicks. "Fly right in as soon as you can. As soon as you land, call in the fighters and my troopers will raise our own kind of hell for these Imps.

Denton nodded. Treyax was in charge at this point, whatever he said, would go. Denton eased the Eman into an easy approach at a comfortable pace. His speed belaying neither urgency nor procrastination.

Denton glanced over at the co-pilots seat where Treyax was seated. Vash liked the Devaronian, he was a good shot and reliable soldier.
"Better get your team ready. They will probably be rushing the off-loading. I can pull the usual tricks...even rig a reactor leak to clear the bay but when push comes to shove, time will be our biggest enemy here." Denton said, turning the Devaronian. "And Captain, shoot straight."

TAG: spycoder, Chukles, JEDIGUNSHIP, docking_bay94

 

IC: CAL MORD
Ambush Point

Cal Mord ran a hand over his scruff. He had forgotten to shave - again. Not that it mattered to much. Impies died just as well, whether or not a single Starchaser pilot was clean-shaven. It did give him an edgy look anyway, didn't it?

"Focus," he muttered to himself, "Focus right, aim right, shoot right. That's all you need to do Cal, alright? No pressure."

No pressure. Right. His squadron was slated to disable engines. Disable engines. Mission objectives always took priority, so that meant killing any Imperials took a back seat. Cal was a natural dogfighter; he didn't pilot a starfighter for nothing. Leave the utility tasks to the bomber squadrons, if you asked Cal. Of course, no one did. So his opinion didn't matter. If he did his job right, maybe - just maybe - he'd get to see some of the real action for himself.

"Maybe, just maybe."

Cal opened a general comm channel to the squadron, and sighed just a little dramatically. "Chaser One, this is Chaser Three. What's the ETA on the Demeter's arrival? I'm gettin' an itch that only lasers can satisfy."

TAG: Sarge (Chaser One, etc.), other pilots Enroute to Ambush Point

OOC: Loocem: Correct. I am under the command of Chaser One, who at this point is just a GM-controlled NPC. Our flight groups, however, are working together on our objective. By the way, also, according to the opening post, we're already AT the ambush point, not enroute, by the way.

 

With permission!

Loocem - You don?t have any contact with Ghost, but you?ll know it worked when the Demeter shows up at your ambush point.


IC: Ghost
Aboard the Demeter

Fifteen minutes and four simulations later, Ghost was done.

His plan had worked like a charm: the ?update? had gone into the star charts without a hitch, and the navicomp had accepted his course suggestion without a murmur - as well it should have, for as far as it knew, the correction came from itself. The last stage of the plan, erasing his actions from the logs, had also gone through without detection.

And all accomplished through a series of carefully crafted simulations, designed just for this mission. An elegant solution, just the way he liked it.

The slicer gave no outward sign of satisfaction, instead merely keying in the command to bring up next sim - a real one, this time. He still had a role to play, at least for the next fifteen minutes: everyone on the bridge had seen Emil bring him up and park him in front of the navicomp, and it would be suspicious if he left before his official task was completed. So Ghost initiated the next simulation, and the next, and the next -

?Hey.? A hand landed on his shoulder. Ghost jumped - inwardly congratulating himself on letting that reflex through; it was consistent with the character he was playing - and turned to see the navigation officer, some lieutenant whose name he hadn?t learnt, frowning down at him. ?Who told you to run sims now? We?re jumping in five and I need that console.?

?Sorry, sir, I didn?t realize -? He did realize, of course, but this lieutenant didn?t have to know that. ?I?ll cancel this at once.?

The lieutenant sniffed. ?See that you do. And tell Sarik I want a word with him after this. I told him not to do tests on the navicomp until we were in hyperspace.?
?Yes, sir.?
?And clear off the bridge. Essential personnel only until we jump.?
?Yes, sir.?
?If you hurry, there might still be some food in the mess hall.?
Was that a trace of a smile on the officer?s face? Ghost decided it was. He grinned. ?At once, then, sir.?

He unplugged his datapad and restored the console to its ordinary operational state. Then, with a salute - which the officer waved off, already sliding into the seat - he left the bridge and headed towards the crew mess.

Not that he intended to eat. Very shortly, this ship would be under attack: if he was lucky, they would be too busy fending off the Rebellion ambush to wonder about the technician who had just been messing around with the navicomp (or the security consultant who had put him there - Ghost wondered, not for the first time, how much Emil really knew about his mission. Not much, he suspected), but Ghost had not survived this long by relying on luck. By the time the trap was sprung, he would be something - someone - else.

All he had to do was find an empty locker room and steal a uniform ...

TAG: Sarge

 

IC: Kev Telrence
Dissenter Hangar Bay

Kev strode nearly lazily into the hubbub of the bustling hangar bay, amazed that so many people were this anxious and, in some cases, terrified of the fight to come. He marveled at the sheer amount of chaos riddled in the hearts and minds of the people here. It was nearly enough to give him a headache. He was already mostly donned in a skintight jumpsuit that showed off his body underneath, after all if he had to be covered up he might as well look good doing so. On top of this he wore the typical set up for setting out in his fighter, helmet, flak vest complete with life-support pack, everything he'd need to at least look like he belonged. He calmly walked up to his fighter and nimbly climbed into the cockpit.

'Having everyone so worked up will so not help things' Kev thought, so using his innate ability to do so he began projecting his emotions onto his fellow pilots, instilling a state of calm and focus...or at least attempting to, with all of the other emotions flying around the best he'd likely be able to do is get them to be relaxed enough not to blast the first thing they saw.

Kev then proceeded to boot up his internal systems, checking for even the slightest error or need for realignment. Thankfully he saw nothing of the sort. In fact it appeared as though the ship techs had poured as much time and energy as was possible to improve this particular fighter, it was better than he'd last left it. Once he was certain that every last thing was as it should be he finally hit his com button.

"Red seven reporting all clear, ready to take out some Imps." he called out to his fellow wing-mates. "Could I get an ETA as to when we'll be gunning down some TIE's?" he added with a chuckle.

TAG: Fellow Dissenters

 

IC: Teagan Niall
Dissenter - Hanger bay


?Your that eager to get out there huh, Kev??

Teagan said light-heartedly through her headset as the familiar voice of Kev Telrence came through the comm system and filled her ear. The Zeltron was a few years younger than she was, but she admired his skills as a fellow A-Wing pilot. Or maybe it was just those Zeltron pheromones that helped colour her opinion of him, she didn?t know. What she did know was that every mission he had undertaken so far he had brought himself and his A-Wing home safely, so he must have been doing something right.

Another voice came through her headset, this time from one of the members of Red squadron. She thought she recognised his voice, slightly tinny as it was coming through the comm system. It was Dexx Solan. Teagan had two things in common with Dexx. One, that he too was one of the handful of rebels who once served the very Empire they were currently trying to overthrow. And two, he was from Corellia.

Teagan had been an Imperial TIE fighter pilot prior to defecting to the Rebel Alliance. A born and bred daughter of Corellia, She grew up in the run down streets and less desirable districts of Tyrena city, where she was often told that people from the skids seldom made anything of themselves. She was determined to prove her doubters wrong. At the time she was younger and more naïve, and wasn?t interested in the political goings on in the galaxy, all she wanted to do was learn how to fly and fulfil her dream of becoming a pilot. So she worked herself to the bone, survived the blood sweat and tears of the fleet academy?s recruitment process and was eventually accepted as a cadet.

Her time at the academy was pretty good for a time, despite the gruelling workload and strict regime. But things changed quickly. Alien cadets started to disappear from the ranks or were cruelly cast out, until there were none left. The few female humans were treated with the same distain that aliens were subjected too, the instructors and other superiors were becoming fiercely pro-human male. Teagan did not agree with this treatment, and often found herself on the receiving end of abuse, if it wasn?t for her flying skills she probably would have been thrown out of the nearest air lock at their earliest convenience. But anyone who spoke up against the empire were severely punished or worse. The Empire started to make Nay-Sayers disappear without a trace and started to raze planets without any genuine justification for their actions, Teagan started to realize that the Empire was not protecting and defending the galaxy, it was oppressing and threatening the galaxy.

The mutiny of the Rand Ecliptic had helped sow the seeds of rebellion within the empires disillusioned ranks. And Teagan was one of them, deserting the Empire and disappearing off the radar, finally joining up with the rebel alliance soon after the battle of Yavin. Finding out what the empire had done, destroying a peace loving planet with that force-forsaken death star. It made her sick to her stomach and fuelled her resolve to stand against them. And now she was here, after surviving the carnage on Hoth and ready to strike at important imperial target. As she fastened her seat restraints, a small chuckle left Teagan?s throat as she listened to Dexx?s comment

?Red four, if you couldn?t wind up my wing-man before a mission I?d really appreciate it, thanks!?


TAG: Sarge(GM) Sey, chanbill, The_Chesire_Cat, Hansolo29

 

IC: Kols Sienar
Location: Hyperspace

Kols looked at his chrono in anticipation. He was onboard the Stag as it was hurdling towards their next target, the cargo ship the Demeter. He at once both loved and hated these moments. Kols, an accountant and learned man, felt so out of his depth here, plunging into battle. There was an unfortunate powerlessness associated with it. Yes, he could shoot well, but not like these soldiers and pilots. Yet... the thrill of new acquisitions was also exhilarating. One never knows whats on these transports. He remembered with a chuckle the cases of shimmersilk dresses the crew stumbled upon a few months ago. The women in the crew were ecstatic... the men, not so much.

He lifted his datapad up again. What they really needed here was food rations, ammunition, repair parts, and medicines. Nothing too unexpected, but it was getting harder and harder to get supplies these days. Every attacked needed to count these days. Like a starving animal, the rebellion needed to expend its energies intelligently.

He looked around at the people in the Cockpit. A few years ago, he would have never imagined himself with these people. Yet now, they all are his coworkers. The lanky man chuckled to himself. The Force surely had a sense of humor.

Speaking of humor..... Dr. Polo began spouting his usual crazy. The man's holds on reality were so frayed by the drugs he consistently imbibed, Kols had more than often wondered about his potential as a liability to their missions. However, time and time again, the man proved himself, to Kols' continuous surprise.

Kols quietly nodded, humoring Polo as he went over all the medicines the crew needed. Kols knew their needs very well, it was all meticulously recorded on his datapad. But it made Polo feel important, so he would let the man have his say.

The military men started making their calls and readying their nerves. Captain Myrwrr mentioned that they were early. Hrm. Early could be good. Early could a trap. Kols frowned. Hopefully it was the former.

The man remained quiet as things began to come together. Hopefully... come... together...

TAG: GM, Folks in the Stagg's Cockpit

 

Ambush Point

"Gold 2, all systems green," came the reply of one of Yulafa's Y-Wing pilots; a female Sullustan named Syan Nin. When Yulafa wasn't in command of Gold Squadron - whether it be when he he was training or leading Green Group -, Nin was usually acting squadron leader. But now she was just another pilot and after her came a ready progress report from all the Y-Wing pilots, ending with Gold 13.

Over at another patch of space where Chaser Squadron patrolled, Cal Mord's question was answered by Chaser One, "Three, it should be here any minute now."

Chaser One was a Twi'lek named Tardak Set; one of the many former slaves that the Rebel Alliance had managed to save from Imperial captivity. It was a very effective recruiting process; it was how the Rebellion acquired Ackbar and he was proving to be an effective Admiral of the entire Alliance fleet. For Tardak, he became a squadron leader and has led the Chasers even before Hoth.

"There it is!"

The unmistakable shape of an Action VI Transport cut through the black expanse of space right in front of the squadron as it came out of hyperspace. The sensors on the fighters of both squadrons would identify the transport ship as the Demeter; their target. Right now it drifted lazily through space, the crew no doubt trying to understand what had just happened. However, it wouldn't be long for them to figure out it wasn't the convoy they were with but, rather, right in the sights of two starfighter squadrons that were definitely not friendly.

"Take it down quick, Chasers!" Tardak ordered. "Go for the engines and, remember, ion cannons only; we don't want to blow it up. Let Yulafa and his Y-Wings take care of the guns."

Apparently the crew of the Demeter got over their surprise quick. Even now the laser cannons upon the hull of the transport were seeking targets and, upon finding them amidst the squadrons of Y-Wings and Starchasers, the weapons fired lances of green laserfire at the starfighters. Even The Stag was an acceptable target as one of the cannons tracked the transport and started firing a steady volley at it.

TAG: Loocem, darthramza, Imperial_Hammer, Penguinator, Burning_Endor




Ambush Point
Demeter

The sirens told Ghost that all was going according to plan. Or at least he better hope that it was now the Rebel ambush party that was assaulting the Demeter and not another rogue band of pirates that just happened to be in the same area.

Considering that everyone aboard the transport were now worried about fending off Rebel starfighters, there was no one to question Ghost or even consider his presence to be of any interest so he was unmolested in his search for an empty locker room. Right now, the crew wouldn't even bother to think that this was a work of sabotage; for all they knew, they had jumped with the correct hyperspace coordinates and a Rebel task force just happened to have been waiting for them. Which, unfortunately, could mean that they thought that their Strike Cruiser escort was right behind them and all they had to do was fend off their attackers until it arrived.

"All hands to battle stations! We are under attack by pirate forces!"

While the announcement was shouted down the halls of the Demeter and even here Ghost could hear the sound of surprised shouts and running footsteps, he was left alone in the locker room. With his skills the locks could be a cinch to bypass and within the lockers he could find the uniforms and whatever other equipment that he desired.

That was when the door behind him suddenly opened and a look over his shoulder would reveal it was none other then Emil, looking not at all troubled by the chaos that he had helped cause. "Well it seems like you were able to pull everything off." Taking a quick look at the lockers that Ghost was currently perusing, the so-called security consultant jerked his head towards the door he just entered through. "Come on. We need to secure the cargo bay and the manifests for the boarding

 

IC: Ghost
Aboard the Demeter, Ambush Point

When the sirens rang, Ghost suppressed a fierce grin; around him, the crew were all running around in varying states of panic, and it would be unwise to be suspiciously cheerful. Instead he feigned alarm and increased his speed to a fast trot, as if he had somewhere to be.

The first trick to blending in: pretend you belong.

Though he needn't have worried. Nobody gave him a second glance as he entered the first locker room he came across and glanced around - empty, unsurprisingly, for it belonged to the bridge crew. Excellent. That meant he could count on being left alone, and better yet, after three days of spending time with them at meals and when off-duty he had a fairly good idea of who owned what.

He had abandoned his plan of stealing a uniform midway down the corridor - the Demeter's crew was too small for that to be anything but a momentary distraction. Instead he cracked open the locker belonging to the comm tech and collected some highly specialized comm gear. He put in a hidden earpiece and synced it with the comlink, then set the comlink to listen in on internal communications. Next, the life support tech's locker, containing a portable bioscanner intended to aid in search-and-rescue efforts in case of emergency -

The door banged open. Ghost jerked, honestly startled, his left hand slipping down to draw one of his hidden blades -

But it was only Emil. Ghost raised an eyebrow at the security consultant, mentally revising his knowledge of the man from sympathiser to defector. Had Commodore Alder known this and simply not seen fit to include that detail in the briefing? But then, Ghost realised belatedly, he shouldn't have had to. Once the Demeter was taken, Emil would be in Rebel hands regardless: his choices were either prison or defection. Evidently he had chosen the latter.

"Pity you didn't mention that before," Ghost remarked, retrieving the bioscanner and flicking the locker shut. "Manifests are easier to get from the bridge."

Nonetheless, he followed Emil out.

TAG: Sarge

 

Arsin Kondarr, Sapper
Emancipator Cargo Hold and Hangar of Sensor Array IOS 34

Calia seemed genuinely stung by the El-Tee?s comments. She stared at the wall, and wouldn?t meet his eyes. Maybe I should apologize again? Before he could, however, Captain Treyax entered the hold and interrupted all conversations.

"We done kissing up to one another? We have an Imperial control station to infiltrate full of troops we're going to have to blast through in order to get the sensor logs. The signal is being sent to the Dissenter as we speak and our pilot is dropping the ramp for us. We have a job to do so we're gonna do this hard and fast.? Kissing up? Is it wrong for commandos to make friends with each other? Man, this is going to be rough. The captain pointed at him. "You're gonna blow the doors that we can't open." He proceeded to remind the rest of the crew of their jobs, but Arsin stopped listening. He was running over his inventory in his mind. What if I forgot something? What if we get trapped and killed because I couldn?t do my job? Even though they were on a nice, climate controlled ship, Arsin felt like he was on Hoth again, cold doubt and nervousness seeping through him.

The ramp lowered and they moved out into the hangar. Strangely, there were practically no security measures to speak of. All dock workers were absent. Arsin slung his pack and clutched his rifle nervously. I have a bad feeling about this?

TAG: Chuckles, spycoder, JEDIGUNSHIP, UnknownRogue, Sarge

 

Tevran Oden, surgeon and mechanic

Dissenter - leaving hangar bay, beginning hyper-jump



The sudden blare of the sirens had caught the doctor off guard and he could not help a slight jump when they started up. He attempted a weak laugh to cover his fear, which thankfully the pilot, Jenson, had not noticed before initially because he wore gloves.
Would his jitters betray him?
Either the pathetic chuckle had worked, or Jenson had other things on his mind, for he guided Tevran further into the ship instead of paying heed to his cover-up, pointing out the jamming equipment whilst the door sealed behind them, muting the klaxons and leaving the crew inside the transport to contend with the sudden silence.

"Pretty much the only thing we really need to worry about are these new gizmos. This stuff is supposed to jam all long-range communications of the Imperial sensor array so that they can't call reinforcements. Its been tested before and they say it works, but fitting them onto the transports had been quick and...messy."

Messy was right. Too right. Tevran wrinkled his nose at the shoddy work, disgust apparent on his face. It looked like a band of half-witted jawas had come through on a drunken spree and decided to see what they could put together on an absolute whim using only a hydrospanner and a primitive hammer. Wincing as a shower of sparks briefly illuminated the otherwise dim insides of the ATR-6 the doctor/mechanic pointed a finger at the offending button pusher, "Hey, don't touch anything."

"Just make sure that this stays in one piece and, in extension, us," Jenson continued. "I gotta get to the cockpit. Anything you need, Jasmin's here," he motioned to the dark-haired crew member that had just messed with the equipment, "to assist you."

And just like that, Jenson turned and ran back to the cockpit leaving Tevran with an absolute disaster looking to become something worse than that. Sucking in a deep breath Tevran slipped a headset over his head that allowed him to open comms with the pilot of the transport as well as the pilots in all the other flights. Static crackled before clearing and allowing a rumbling and gravely, "Green Leader, here, torpedoes armed and ready.? Followed by a familiar, ?Wraith Group, ready to do our part.?
Speaking in between affirmations and various callings in, Tevran knelt beside one of the devices, protruding from the deck like some otherworldly growth with wires as roots, ?Name?s Tevran Oden.? He nodded at the girl who stood a few feet away from him, ?Jasmin, was it? Could you hand me the toolbox by your feet? They forgot to solder this set of connections??
He trailed off as the order to launch crackled into his ears. Not but a few seconds later, his stomach twisted uneasily as the transport lifted into the air and passed through the hangar opening into the vast darkness of space. Closing his eyes he swallowed, trying to compose himself and focus on the task at hand, then, speaking over a series of directives consisting of, ??to intercept them before they could hit the B-Wings or our transports.?
?And while you?re at it, toss me a spool and a power wrench,? He bent down over a mess of wires, holding a few together with some (hopefully) well placed hydro-grips, restoring some lost connections. The jammer sparked again, but not as much as last time, eliciting a small grin from the surgeon, ?Now we?re getting somewhere.? He muttered to himself just as ?Jump!? snapped its way out of his headset. His stomach twisted again and bile rose in his throat, threatening. Tevran fought it down, a new sheen appearing on his forehead, ?Bloody ships?? He mumbled past his misery.


Tag: Sarge (GM), anyone able to communicate on the comms

 

Grynn
The Stag

Comm chatter hit Grynn's ears, causing them to twitch unconsciously. "Go for the engines and, remember, ion cannons only; we don't want to blow it up. Let Yulafa and his Y-Wings take care of the guns."

The familiar flash of cannons firing away hit the corner of his eye. Grynn growled low in his chest and punched a set of controls. "Not good," he said, and launched the Stag into a stomach-churning dive to dodge.

Grynn was a fortunate being. Some individuals and species were meant to be pilots, and Grynn had the good luck to be one of those individuals in one of those species. At first glance, a Togorian is no front-runner for pilot duty; all muscle and claw, they seem better suited to the life of a hunter or soldier. Their inherent brawn and durability, however, was a massive boon for Grynn's love of flying. He felt the physical forces that limited other pilots to a lesser degree, so there was little messy vomiting or unwelcome fainting spells when he threw his ship into death-defying action.

He flicked a few switches and pressed a series of buttons, bringing his own guns online. But he needed men to fire them. "Dr. Polo, Mr. Sienar - to the guns. I mean to lend a hand."

Tag: Impy, Ramza, Sarge

 

GM APPROVED

Name: Azar
Age: 306
Race: Feeorin
Homeworld: Odryn
Appearance:
[image=http://i101.photobucket.com/albums/m54/Dinkus_Mayhem/339px-Feeorin_KotORCG.jpg]
Profession: Former student and instructor of the GOSS, Rebel Alliance Special Forces Commando.
Skills: pistol and rifle marksmanship, hand to hand combat, survivalist, covert infiltration, sabotage, demolition and assassination.
Weapons/Equipment (Optional): Laserhone Talin Vibro-Dagger, DC-17m Interchangeable Weapon System, DC-15s side arm blaster
Ship (Optional): Though a capable pilot, he is no Ace. He can fly if needed, but prefers to let the professionals have the honors of doing so if at all possible.
Rank: Major in the Alliance Army

History: Azar, a Feeorin of considerable age and strength, has through the centuries been a being of numerous jobs. Scavenger, bounty hunter, pirate and mercenary. He did what he had to do in order to survive, and he did it well. As time passed, and his wealth increased, he became bored with this life. He sought to challenge himself, and around 40 BBY he heard of something that would do just that.

A man, Barosa Warren, was in the midst of creating a school of survival. Though there were many, this was rumored to be unrivaled in the galaxy. Barosa had purchased an entire planet and was planetforming it to create training camps like no other. For the next 20 years Azar watched and waited.

Finally in 19 BBY the GOSS was opened, and Azar immediately enrolled. The waiting list was already long, and he finally was able to start his training in 17 BBY, as a part of the legendary Summit Class. Being among the best in the class, he was offered a chance to instruct by Barosa Warren himself. And for the next 13 years he was counted as one of the harshest and most competent instructors in the GOSS.

As time wore on and the Empire sent more of it's elite to the GOSS, Azar began to feel the impact of the Empire's anti-alien policies...for the first time in his long life, began to form political views which were sympathetic to the Rebellion. He knew these views to be in conflict with the pro-Empire Barosa Warren, so he kept them to himself. However after the disastrous Battle of Hoth he could do so no longer. He deserted his position within the GOSS and sought out and joined the Alliance.

His skills were much needed, and though old his Feeorin body was far stronger and more fit than most, coupled with his decades of experience and skill he has become a valuable asset for the Rebellion as a Special Forces Commando assigned to the Dissenter Task Force.