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The Dark Times (Star Wars RP) IC

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Imperialisium
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The Dark Times (Star Wars RP) IC

Postby Imperialisium » Thu Oct 06, 2022 4:26 pm

OOC

The Dark Times


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Imperial Banners rise across countless worlds. Every day the hand of the New Order grows stronger. The Old Republic is gone, replaced by the Galactic Empire, and with it the old ways are being swept aside. Across countless worlds Imperial administrations attach or even supplant long time standing governances. Offices which had for generations governed aspects of Galactic society replaced or altered beyond all recognition. Imperialization, it was called. Imperialization of the Galaxy and the establishment of the New Order for a peaceful and prosperous Galaxy. A secure and safe society. The Galactic Emperor within his labyrinthine palace to some credit seldom gives all but the vaguest and top-level directives. A veneer, thinly held, to appear that the institutions of representation are present. The Galactic Senate, or rather Imperial Senate, still convenes in its old chambers. Senators still debate and legislate. But only at the behest and will of the Emperor's executive authority. For the teetering and inefficient structures of the Republic are no more. Now, it is a strong centralized power seemingly content to bring all under its apparently unstoppable yoke. Yet, some are resisting, some foment words increasingly considered treasonous on countless worlds. Insurrection, independence, rebellion.


16 BBY

It is three years since the ascension of the New Order and the Galactic Empire spans from Coruscant to Raxus, Muunilist to Eriadu, Corellia to Bonadan. From the Core to the Galactic Rim. Yet, the peripheries of the Galaxy are still hotbeds of violence and chaos. Even with the successes of the Ciutric Offensive, crushing of the Syr Myrthian Insurrection, victory in the Five Veils, and many more to the Empire's banner have not yet granted the satisfaction that the Imperial leadership craves. Total victory, complete control, and it has shown itself multiple times. From the initial Imperial failure to take Tervissis in the Listehol campaign to the ongoing large-scale fighting in the Western Reaches. The Empire is stuck fighting Republican diehards in the Grand Republic Reclamation Fleet, Separatist hold outs, and increasing resistance in far flung systems to Imperial rule. The Empire itself responding with a ballooning military to the increasing dissatisfaction of a minority of Senators, to the increasingly totalitarian rule of Imperial governors taking ever more direct measures to maintain the integrity of their territories. The Galaxy is at a crossroads...

Coruscant, Imperial City, Imperial Center

"Tervissis still resists us as a bastion of the defunct Confederacy," remarked a man with the rank plaque and pins of a High General.

"Would it be defunct if there were still worlds fighting in the belief of separatism, Rendulon?" The person who spoke to the High General by name wore a navy uniform with the rank insignia of a High Admiral.

"High Admiral Valens," a third person at the starkly lit table in a room surrounded by white walls spoke politely, this third person wearing the white uniform and black cap of the Imperial Security Bureau, "need I remind such esteemed officers that the Confederacy is gone. These are but mere rebels, allied with slavers and cartels, their friends are terrorists and nothing more."

"Careful," remarked Valens, "the word rebel is a powerful word in such a time."

The ISB officers nodded, keenly aware that even though the Security Bureau had purview of all but whatever the Emperor wanted to keep secret, still abided by his rank of Colonel. Heeding the superior officer's word with a slight gesture of his hands on the polished mirror smooth table.

The High Admiral turned to Rendulon, ignoring the other dozen officers at the table who remained silent and pensive at the discussion, "Tervissis may wait. Admiral Sevove will be attached to operations to secure the Corellian Hyperlane and dislodge the GRRF from Milagro."

Rendulon responded, "Is not Sevove tasked to Crimson Dagger Command? The Moff there will not like this."

"Iron Lance Command is without a Moff effective four days ago. Imperial Intelligence and the Security Bureau should be aware of it. Crimson Dagger Command's Moff Jania Quillan will be temporarily assuming the Portfolio of Iron Lance's Command."

Both men and most of the officers in the room slowly looked down at their datapads as a new docket was uploaded with a wave of Valen's hand. It was a long report detailing the death of an Imperial Moff in a suspected raid by Separatist sympathizers on a backwater world during a spot inspection of new bases to oversee resource extraction destined for Kuat. Faces held frowns or stony silene at the news. Others had eyes widen at the fact an Imperial Moff was killed. The only universal notion among everyone in the room being that this would be hushed. Nothing on the holonet and anything else fervently denied.

The ISB Colonel scanned through several lines of the report before slowly looking back up, "And on whose authority is this occurring?"

"High Command agreed to it during a closed session earlier this morning. The Emperor's Ruling Council put their seal on the order." Valens divulged a slim paper file which detailed as such complete with Imperial data gene-ciphers.

"And is the 55th Squadron sufficient reinforcement?"

"Unlikely, but we cannot make an obvious re-allocation of resources as we prioritize targets. The Western Reaches campaign is still to receive priority in all Imperial reinforcements. This endeavor will be more subtle as a way to force the remnants of this militant seditionist rabble off the Hyperlane. At which point they and Tervissis will be targets for renewed efforts to pacify those sectors. Adjourned."

Rising from his seat Valens nodded to his compatriots before leaving the room with the other Naval Officers present. Leaving the ISB Colonel and High General Rendulon to look at each other in silence.

Code: Select all
Priority Transcript:
Moff Quillen, in accordance with new issued directives from Imperial High Command and policy from the Imperial Ruling Council. You have been appointed the temporary command of the Sectors comprising Iron Lance Command. 55th Squadron from Crimson Dagger will also be transferred there to assist in the persecution of Separatist and Insurrectionist forces centred on the Milagro system. Calling themselves the Grand Republican Reclamation Fleet or GRRF.

Execute this directive immediately. It is the Emperor's Will.

High Admiral Valens, Imperial High Command
Last edited by Imperialisium on Thu Oct 06, 2022 4:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Orostan
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Postby Orostan » Thu Oct 06, 2022 9:33 pm

16 BBY Desevran Trace - Zeya Sublathi

This hold of Zeya's ship, the C-ROC cruiser Blue Banner, was kept dark and empty except for a imprisoned smuggler handcuffed to a durasteel chair in the middle of it. An old B1 battledroid stood guard over the prisoner, a male human with brown hair who looked to be in his mid thirties. Zeya had been keeping him there for a few days, deliberately allowing him to try and escape twice and then stopping when it looked like he would succeed. First he was stunned moments away from stealing one of the cruiser's cloakshape fighters stored in its ventral makeshift hanger bay. Another he had been working his way into an escape pod when Zeya herself gave him a good shock - literally, with lightning.

She entered the hold he was in and cast a shadow over his sleeping form before the lights overhead came on. He didn't wake up, so after Zeya walked up to him she gestured to the B1 who swiftly whacked him with the butt of its blaster over the head. That woke him up quickly.

"What- What the hell was that for?" He shouted.

"You weren't awake."

"Don't you jedi believe in compassion or something?" the smuggler asked.

"I want to know where the artifact is."

The smuggler clenched his teeth. "I won't tell you that. You have taken my crew and my ship from me, you won't take anything else."

Zeya sighed and blasted the man with a short burst of blue force lightning. The B1 took a step to the side, leaving its place directly behind the chair and in Zeya's line of fire.

"There is still more I can take." she said while the poor smuggler tried to recover.

"And more you won't get."

Zeya waved her hand across the man's face. "You will tell me where the artifact is."

"I will... No. I will not tell you." The smuggler looked her right in the eye.

"I guess I've tried everything. I'll tell you what, smuggler-"

"My name is Darren." he interrupted

Zeya almost shocked him again. "I don't care, smuggler. I've had enough of this and so have you. Give me the artifacts location and I'll let you get off this ship in an escape pod with a functioning communications device."

Darren looked at her incredulously. "Really?"

"Yes. You've already tried to get away twice and you'll probably get lucky on your third time. A Jedi doesn't break their word, Darren."

"Then uncuff me."

Zeya glanced at the droid. It did not take the hint. "Uncuff him." she ordered the machine.

"Right away sir." it said as it stowed its blaster on its back and clumsily undid the smuggler's restraints.

Darren stood up and slowly walked towards the door, limping slightly from pain. He glanced back towards Zeya who had taken a cross-legged position on the floor.

"Aren't you going to ask where the artifact is before I leave?"

"Aren't you going to tell?"

The two silently looked at each other for a moment. "Tervissis", he said.

Zeya smiled slightly. "Thank you."

The moment he was out of the room Zeya began walking towards the bridge, arriving on it soon enough to hear from a pilot droid at the helm that an escape pod was launching. She didn't respond to its report and instead felt the ship vibrate slightly as the pod launched. A moment after it drifted by the front of the ship, its chemical engines trailing white exhaust while driving it away.

"Lock a tractor beam."

"Roger Roger." The pilot droid droned as it tapped a few buttons to make a blue beam spring out from the cruiser's bow and pin the escape pod in space.

Darren's voice almost immediately came through the bridge's communications speakers.

"I thought we had a deal jedi! What happened to not breaking your word?" the smuggler shouted.

"We did. I promised you you'd get to leave the ship in a pod. I didn't say I'd let you live afterwards. Pilot, blast him."

"You bastard, I'll-" a laser impact silenced his protest and the pod was blown apart. Now there was probably nobody but Zeya and her droids within a parsec. Zeya sat down in the captain's chair.

"Good job, OOM-P4012."

The pilot droid looked at its master. "Thanks boss."

"Set a course for Tervissis."
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Parcia
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Postby Parcia » Fri Oct 07, 2022 12:55 am

Korlo
Rishi Maze

"Uncle Jak sends his regards, frakheads...


"I see him, bank right, right!" The Sound of his Crew chiefs panicked voice came over his head set, yet Jak had already seen it and moved, the Helix Rocket flew past and detonated, the dull thump of the explosion being the only thing that translated through the VB-25s old, yet potent for its size, shield array. He flipped from main engines over to full repulsor lifts and as the bird slowed he tilted back left as the bird began to strafe through the air. Checking his master arm he flipped down his helmet's visor and quickly sighted the offending launcher team and promptly blasted them to bits with a burst of laser cannon fire, the twin K&T Kx7s doing their job. He heard his 3 gunners open up as well, the two door mounted DLT-19s firing array before the deeper, louder roar as the rear mounted E-WEB opened up. His Copilot cheered over the intercom as they slowed and settled roughly 3 feet off the ground, the yelling of the Corporate Guild Security troops, of which he carried nearly 2 platoons off, stormed off the rear door and in to the enemy encampment that their air support had spent the better part of a day pounding.

This was it, this was the last of the "People's Unification Army" attempting to force the Corporate forces off their little farming world. They failed, horribly. Turns out its not really possible for a bunch of farmers with blasters and slug throwers to throw off their oppressive over lords with naught but said blasters when their over lords them selves enjoy an endless cashflow and tacit Imperial Support.

Still, as he touched off once again and began circling the camp, he didn't need to do much else. He knew what the game was, these troops were Assault guys, heavily armed, armored, and juiced to their ears on combat drugs. They wouldn't be bringing any prisoners home. He ended up only needing to do another strafing run along a small group attempting to bolt, but his gunners took care of the problem for him.

Heading home he saw the Security guys took nearly half casualties, with 4 dead before they were dropped in his troop bay, but they seemed to have cleaned up the last of the Resistance and that suited him fine. They were already 5 months over schedule and the over time pay was adding up, hell he was half convinced they decided to just end this little rebellion now because he was eating in to their over all operational budget.

As he flew over the horizon and neared the base he saw a tower of smoke billowing in to the sky. As he neared and began to slow for his landing he found the main gate on fire, with the blown apart wreck of a civilian ground speeder being the only evidence of the VBIED. Didn't matter to him. 2 years of flying for these Corpo rats had soured his taste for them all sans their money and even then rumor had it nearly 2 years worth of republic credits were now of suspect worth given the end of the war.

Still, he was due to jet off at the night and start the long string of lonely hyper space jumps back to the galaxy proper. After 10 years away from the core, 3 in the maze he was almost entirely disconnected from the wider galaxy. Still, he heard bits and pieces about the war, the Empire, something to do with the Empire.


He was 12 hours out from his third jump, the long one that would take him from the maze proper to the mid rim when something felt off. He checked his instruments before slipping out of his pilots chair and quietly unhooking his A-180 from the holster on the back of the chair before opening the door to his cargo/troop bay. Several large plasteel crates and plastoid boxes lined the center line with one particular box being larger then the rest.

"I'm armed, your on my ship, the controls are locked and were 3 hours in to a 4 day hyper space jump, show your self now or I'm venting your pieces in to the void when we get to Rishi proper." Silence. Then, after a moment, one of the crates, the largest one, shook slightly. He raised the blaster and approached the box slowly. He double checked his ship over before he left, even set down once again on one of the breathable moons to make sure the corpo shmucks hadn't rigged a bomb, but this struck him...differently.

He tucked the blaster in to his belt and placed a hand to the box and closed his eyes. It had been a very, very long time since he'd done this, but he didn't have a hand held scanner on hand. He reached out, in to the force, in to that murky, fog ridden darkness he hadn't been in since before the war, since before the shock, since his last time at the temple.

He stayed like that, receiving no real answer for several minuets at least. Then, something...It was small, light...and felt...young. "What the frack." He turned and went looking about his ship's supply lockers for a pry bar. He'd smuggled before, even done some legit trading. Guns, blades, hell even less then mostly lethal flavors of spice. Never had he done sentients though as that was something below even his standards.

It was also real taboo to crack a clients sealed case though, he'd been keen on forming a reputation of not doing so but had also made examples out of the few low lifes who tried to be less then honest with their cargo. Finding the pry bar stuck being a refrigeration unit near the forward bulkhead, he returned to the box and took a moment. If he did this there was a chance he was going to regret it, but he had too. Finding the seam were the lid met the vertical edge, he aimed and slammed the bar home, wedging the thing open and managing to get the bar stuck. Sighing, he drew the pistol, aimed at the magnetic seal with a low power setting and fired, shooting the thing off.

It clattered about the room with a clang and the bar fell with a louder clang. Retrieving it, he levered the lid off and it slid free and dropped to the deck. Peering in he caught sight of his troubles and groaned. The bottom meter of the 3 meter tall crate was filled with what he expected. Money, well, Credits, Imperial credits, amazingly enough, with at least several million in high value bills being sealed in clear plastic with tamper seals. What was on top of that, though, separated by a layer of insulated padding, was a girl.

He paused and palmed the blaster again, weary of tricks, and took a long moment to look at her. She was maybe 13 at most, with short curly raven hair, pale skin, and freckles. She was clad in some sort of tattered dress and bound at the hands and feet, with a pair of earmuffs and a blind fold covering her senses. She shivered in the cold and it seemed the rush of air must of stirred her from her sleep as she began to whimper and squirm.

For the first time in a while, Jak was without words. Muttering to him self, really verbally kicking him self for taking this job he reached forward and gently removed the ear muffs, the poor thing going still for a moment before continuing to shake like a leaf. "Hey now. You're safe, I'm not going to hurt you. Can you understand me?" A shaky nod and more whimpering. "Bloody hell. Ok, I'm going to get these off you." Turning, he looked around for a moment before recalling he always carried a boot knife and quickly using it to cut the girl's bindings.

She reached up and covered her self, whimpering more. He paused and looked her up and down and it made his stomach turn. She was small, mostly skin and bones though not wasting away but what struck him speechless the bruises and the cuts. Not just fresh ones, though she had a fair share of them, rather it was all the healed ones. She was covered in them from her neck to her bare feet. He stood up and turned, slowly, to the crew cabin.

In between the cargo bay bulkhead and the cockpit lay a small crew cabin, really a small rectangular space with a set of fold down bunks for sleeping, a small refresher station and a small kitchen. Rustling about he quickly found the warm fleece blanket and quickly ducked back in to the cargo bay only to find the crate empty. As he was about to go frantically searching the cabin he heard a quiet whimpering and fallowed it to the far corner of the bay, opposite were he found her create.

She sat there, huddled up in the corner. As he approached she flinched as the soft thumps of his boots drew near and he saw her face for the first time. She had removed her blindfold and he caught a glimpse of her eyes. Grey. Grey and milky. By the stars the girl was blind. He squat down and held the blanket out for her. "Hey. I'm Jak. Jak Morin. You're on my ship, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Here, you're shivering, take this and get warm." she reached out, though not as blindly as he though she would, and took the blanket, wrapping her self up and leaving just a little hole were her face was. "You got a name kid?"

"M-Melire."

Jak gave her a smile. "Well Meli, you hungry?"
Last edited by Parcia on Fri Oct 07, 2022 1:08 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby G-Tech Corporation » Fri Oct 07, 2022 6:31 am

Gars Terovil, Kuat

His fingers drummed unconsciously on the white marble deck before him, and Tiber sighed inwardly as the commander continued his report in a monotone tinged marginally with panic. An entire battalion of ground-pounders, driven back to their redoubts by surgical strikes from these malcontents on Merren IV. Not unexpected given the type of chod they were tossing into the Army these days, but still a reversal which placed matters at a delicate crossroads. The losses were inconsequential - the delays to the beginning of production from the mines, troublesome. And Cardian hadn't even had the decency to leave his head intact for the blame to be heaped upon it. Wretched incompetent had, by all reports, caught a thermal detonator to the foot. And, well, the rest of the body. You could try to pin blame on a Moff who was rapidly expanding subatomic vapor, but it didn't leave much room for improvement.

As the commander turned to a list of equipment lost and destroyed Tiber held up his hand. The half dozen blue-gray holograms in his chamber turned to look at him.

"I do not need a verbal recounting of your minutiae, Commander. A report will be sufficient. What I need to know is if your command can hold the spaceport until General Geedon arrives or if we will need to be landing him into a combat zone."

And the answer to that question had better be yes. The better part of half a million kilcreds had gone into the fabrication of that trans-shipment facility, and KDY would struggle to fulfill their most recent civilian orders without the ores that had been expected to be arriving - arriving even now! - from Merren. The Grand Moff didn't relish having to push back delivery dates for most of his clients. Aye, Kuat served the Empire. But the state had a thousand competing interests, not all of which were the Fleet, and the Fleet always took precedence.

The man in the hologram hesitated, turning to one side and speaking inaudibly for a moment. Then he turned back and nodded.

"Unless the locals have some tricks we haven't seen, they don't have any firepower formidable enough to push us out of here. The walls of the conclave are five microclicks of rolled durasteel. My men are shaken, but they can hold defenses well enough, I swear it."

The Kuat merely made a dismissive gesture.

"Very well commander. I shall hold you to that. You may expect reinforcements inside of seven standard days - " and here he glanced to one of the other holograms, one of a general who nodded curtly - "yes, seven standard days. Geedon will redress Cardian's errors. Let me be clear. Under no circumstances are you to yield the starport. Control of the planet rests in her being in Imperial hands. I will not tolerate failure on this matter."

His voice was wintry. The Army had failed far too much since their transition from the Republic, displaying a fighting spirit which could only be compared unfavorably to the voidsmen of the fleet and the Stormtrooper Corps. Not only would he not tolerate failure, but setbacks to production here on Kuat would likely draw the attention of the Emperor himself. And Tiberius had no desire to deal with that old spook more than necessary.

The commander saluted, stone-faced, and his hologram wavered and disappeared. One by one the other blue images winked away, and the Grand Moff grimaced once the room was finally clear.

He rose, and paced over to the balcony of his office, gazing out on the arboreal paradise of Kuat. Gene-engineered trees and perfect weather always meant a glorious vista was fit to soothe the soul, and his frown softened somewhat breathing in the cool moist air. A thunderstorm was brewing, judging by the clouds gathering to the west. Above it all hung the diadem of beauty which was the orbital ring, Kuat's pride and power bundled together in one infinitely valuable object.

He needed to remember to relax more. Even rejuvenats could only keep the lines out of his face for so long if he had to scowl at under-officers as much as he had been lately.
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Imperialisium
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Postby Imperialisium » Fri Oct 07, 2022 12:33 pm

Vjun
Bast Castle
Outer Rim Territories


Vjun or Vijjun depending on parlance, is a dead world of acid-rain swept rocky landscapes. Toxic seas and home to only wretched deplorable denizens. Its only product of note being highly prized tunics capable of staving off the ravenous rain which lashed every surface. But for those astute to ancient history and the now lost databanks of the Jedi...Vjun is a world with long Sith history. Only prudent that Palpatine's apprentice took a residence there for his more secretive projects.

The dark circular chamber was lit only by a transparent dome from which the acrid green-brown rain of Vjun spat upon. A small terminal with a holo-projector off to the side. Its lights twinkling before a sudden low hum broke the somber atmosphere. Disturbing the lone figure meditating in the room. Blue-white flickering light shining up as a tall figure materialized. Wearing an armored suit with a long flowing cape covering the smooth grieves of heavy boots. The figures voice was harsh and deep.

"A time has come to test your abilities, my apprentice. Go to the Tervissis system. Rumors of a holocron are there and it will not be just you are seeking it out. I have felt shifts in the force. Others are searching for this repository. Bring it to me, Shadow, and we shall see if you are a worthy student to becoming Sith."

The hologram faded away and the lights of the machine slowly dimmed to black.
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Postby Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States » Fri Oct 07, 2022 2:29 pm

Planetary trade yard
Ord Vaug
BBY 16


Most of the square click of concrete that made up the Ord Vaug yard was devoid of people, all of them having sought shelter from the extreme downpour that almost made it possible to swim through the air. Crates of goods stood abandoned on trolleys as the sudden storm had surprised most of the yard workers and the hauler crew. The torrential rains formed deep rivers that flowed along shallow gutters, rainbow-coloured by the engine grease floating on top and carrying with it the detritus of a yard: small pieces of metal, tools, broken-off pieces of equipment and cloth… The rivulets dumping it all in to large open pits where it would be absorbed by the groundwater or just onto the fields beyond the yard.

Jetblast just kept his head down as he made his way through the downpour, shielding his eyes from the rain with his hood; a relic from his days of service. The once navy tarp with the Republic seal had gone a drab brown and grey from expose to both too much mud, too much sun and too much military grade cleaning fluid. It was still watertight, though, and it kept him dry as long as he was willing to forgo looking where he went. Luckily for him, or rather, through years of enduring enough hardship for three lifetimes, Jetblast had no oncoming foot traffic to take into account. Most of them were waiting out the worst of it. For Jetblast, this was exactly the reason why he wanted to get out.

The cantina at the edge of the yard was largely abandoned by now; a handful people were huddling in the doorway to shelter from the rain, but the torrents had come in the middle of a shift, meaning that the only people in the bar were people who had trudged through it. As such, most of the seats were empty, apart from three: one was at the bar itself, from where a chubby man with a suspicious moustache waved at him as soon as he noticed him, a large grin on his face and a rosy colour on his cheeks.

“Hey, Thermo! Fancy seeing you on this side of the ga…” he started, but Jetblast just rolled his eyes and walked straight past him, into the seating area.

“I’m not your friend, kimposta” he said, the Huttese slur just part of the monotone drone. Instead, Jetblast’s attention was drawn by two men sitting at a table, shaking their head at the rosy drunk. They wore stormtrooper uniforms, but they had their helmets on the floor next to them. On the table was a large, half-empty bottle, which reflected the faces of the troopers: they could not look more different, but it was also like looking into a mirror. Jetblast smiled as he recognised two brothers; one had a Republic tattoo on one cheek and an imperial crest on the other. The second trooper had a full head of hair, apart from a burn scar behind his right ear. They beckoned him closer.

“Don’t mind the kimposta. We have been pulling pranks with him ever since he arrived, and that was, what? A week ago?” said the tattooed clone.

“Won every drinking game so far” said the scarred veteran, picking up a small stack of imperial credits and dropping them back down, creating a satisfying clicking noise.

Jetblast sat down with them, with the scarred trooper snapping his fingers at the waiter.

“A glass and a bottle!” he shouted.

“Thanks, brother” said Jetblast.

“No worries. You don’t get to see many new brothers on garrison duty. They all sign up for the campaigns” Said the tattooed one. “I’m corporal Flashlight, by the way, of the 501st This is trooper Zinger, of the 187th. Both currently detached to the Ord Vaug garrison”

“Lieutenant Jetblast” answered the clone pilot, “of the… No, no, sit down, at ease, please” he added, as both Zinger and Flashlight had tried to get up to salute him. The war was over, but the troopers still mainly identified more with their old units than with their current employment, something with Jetblast found worrisome in his brothers.

“Anyway, I used to be a pilot in the 212th , now I haul cargo. Recently-liberated planets have better margins, so there”

“No kidding, Hatch was a pilot too. Part of our squad of five when we joined back up” said Zinger. More and more clones joined back up, mostly as stormtroopers. The Empire was flying more and more newer craft that required more flight hours than most former pilots had logged during their ‘extended leave’, but the infantry was simpler: point and shoot, just like the simulations.

“What happened to him?” asked Jetblast. Flashlight downed the last of his glass and wiped the moisture off his lips.

“Got his neck crushed by a crab droid on Ichtor. Went out pretty fast though. We avenged him plenty. He was the second to go, after Thornbush. Damned unlucky, he was pierced by rock splinters when a cliffside on Halm was hit by a stray AT-TE blast. Took thee days to die properly, the poor bastard”

The two soldiers went through all the motions of sadness, but Jetblast knew things were different. During the clone wars, troopers would talk with reverence about their brothers who had been lost in battle, keeping mementoes to remember them by, and retelling their stories with respect in order so that everyone remembered their fallen comrade. Zinger and Flashlight used all the same language of reverence, but their tone was more gleeful, almost wistful even. As if it was something they now aspired towards. Back in the day, Jetblast thought, they had been fighting for a cause. Right now, what exactly were they fighting for? What were they dying for? Jetblast knew why these clones were so joyfully talking about death, but it was a thought that he gladly pushed to the back of his mind.

“And the fifth?” he inquired. The two troopers had expected the question, of course, otherwise they would not have named the number of their squad, but their expressions changed. For a moment, the same atmosphere from back in the day fell over their conversation. They leaned in somewhat, looking around if anyone in the abandoned bar was listening in.

“Weapons malfunction” said Zinger simply. Jetblast nodded. “Poor way to go” he said, his brothers nodding with approval, then shaking their head. ‘Weapon malfunction’ was code for ‘couldn’t take it anymore and swallowed a pistol round’, but it was better to talk about a weapons malfunction. Helped you avoid the question ‘why’, and for many active troopers, the question ‘why not’.

“You staying long on Ord, lieutenant?” asked Zinger. Jetblast shook his head.

“I’m staying a few days to pick up new cargo, if there is any. Otherwise I’m heading back to the hub at Bestine or Thyferra, see if they have work for me up there” Jetblast answered.

“Well, if you’re a pilot who has logged the hours, I know the fleet needs some experienced hands on TIE sticks, if you ever get bored” said Flashlight

“Thanks, brother” answered Jetblast dishonestly. “I’ll consider it”

There was a moment of unintentional silence.

“But come on!” Jetblast said, rapidly breaking it. “You must have so many stories to tell!”

This seem to brighten up the two clone troopers, who hunched forward over their glasses and exchanged meaningful looks. Flashlight cleared his throat.

“Zinger, you wanna do the honours on the snail droid story? Or should I?”
The name's James. James Usari. Well, my name is not actually James Usari, so don't bother actually looking it up, but it'll do for now.

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Parcia
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Postby Parcia » Sat Oct 08, 2022 6:09 pm

The Drunken Bandit
In hyperspace to Rishi


18.5 Million. He had 18.5 million in fresh Imperial Credits and not chips either, no, actual, hard, freshly minted Imperial mint polymer Credit Bills. He hadn't seen hard cash like this since his days at the Temple, hell he'd never seen this much cash any were. All in 100 and 500 denominations. He could buy an estate with this, He could buy his own CR-90, load it up with the best gear and refits available, and have at least 10 million left over easy to hire out a good crew and run his own trading company.


It was tempting. Real tempting. His contact had no time window as far as he knew, and had no real link to him. He could just book it in to the outer rim with the mother load of cash in his bay and set him self...well, there was the Kid. No, not just "the Kid". Melire, or Meli. He looked over to her in his co pilot seat. She was wrapped up in that same Blanket he'd given her before. He managed to cook up some decent broth soup and ration bread in the small kitchenette and she wolfed it down after repeatedly asking if he was sure.

Now she was sound asleep, bound up in the blanket and cradled by its crash webbing. Jak was not really known for his high moral standing. In fact most of his "ethics" were simply designed to keep his business intact. Don't deal in any drugs too lethal, don't run and guns too powerful, and don't run any sentients against their will. He had smuggled criminals, sure, even had to duck and bolt from a few bounty hunters though there was that close call with that one insane mando in that Firespray gunboat...

He shook his head and wiped the sleep from his eyes. When you run a ship your self, even with automated piloting systems, you never got more then two hours sleep when you were in transit and this 4 day jump was getting to him. He only had a few more hours left so at least he'd be able to land and get some real sleep soon.

"Were are we going?" She spoke softly, timidly, as if she expected some rough retort or insult. It was the little things like that that made him even sadder about her apparent situation. He gave her a warm smile, as warmly as he could muster. "Rishi, nice little tropical world. We're going to stop by there, refuel, drop off most of this cargo and then were heading to...Mildrago? I think. I'll have to double check."

There was a moment of silence before he went on. "I've got enough cash saved up to splurge, we're going to get you some decent clothes and figure out what were going to do." "Y-you wont leave me will you?" That caught him guard and he turned to look at her. "What? no. I don't know if you can stay here, I don't really have room-" She whimpered and tucked her self deeper in to the blanket. He sighed. "No, no kid I don't think I will. Not until I can find you a good place to live any way."

The Whimpering stopped and his heart sank just a little more. "If I can ask, where are your parents?" There was a pregnant pause before she answered him. "They left when I was younger, left me with my aunt and uncle. They were mean. They didn't really take care of me. When my eyes got worse they stopped really taking care of me."

"What happened to your eyes?" Another pause, the pain was palpable. Actually, that wasn't even an expression. He could feel the pain and sadness this girl radiated and it scared him. It'd had been a long time since he was really in any real connection with the force. It was like a muscle that gained strength from use, but atrophied from lack of use. Yet she was strong in it, or at least strong in presence.

This was going to complicate things. He knew of the fate of the Jedi, mostly, and knew that force sensitives were a rare thing now a days.

"I don't know. I just stopped being able to see real well one day, and it got worse and worse. I can't see much any more."

"We'll get you looked at while were at it. Rishi is pretty remote and I have a few friends who can help with out drawing to much attention." "Is it warm there?" the little bit of hope in her question made him feel just a little bit less horrid about what she had said. "Oh yea, it's mostly beaches and valleys and jungles. Bunch of Pirates found it by accident something like several thousand years back and for a long while it was a Pirate haven. Now its a small paradise."

"Can we stay there?" This drew a chuckle from him. "We will for a bit, few days, couple of weeks. I need to make a few calls on the Holo net, contact a few people, see what I'm going to do with that money you were shipped with." "C-can't you just keep it?" Another sigh, this time as he went about checking the navicomputer. "I've been doing this for a long while kid. Made a name for my self. "Jak Marin, best smuggler of the Maze." One of the rules you learn early on is to not skip the job with the cargo. Sets a bad precedent, folk wont trust you and the work dries up."

"Then why did you open up the box I was in?" His words caught in his throat. How would he explain the force to her, a child? Even knowing something like that would put her in danger. "Just a hunch, that and I heard you move." She went silent after this and soon after he heard her start to snore softly. He let out a breath.

How in the stars had he gotten him self stuck in this.



Designated Hyper Space exit point, Rishi system, outer rim.

"Hey, kid, wake up. Your going to want to see this." Meli woke with a start, having been experiencing some sort of bad dream and she looked around with a grogy expression. "What's going on?" He took hand of the controls and began to go through the check list. "Were about...2 minuets out from the exit point for the jump lane. You ever fly before?" She shook her head. "My aunt and uncle never took me any where." "So this is your first time in space?" A nod. "Ok, so, stay put, don't move, the webbing will keep you in."

"Will be bad?" He shook his head as he started to disengage the auto pilot. "No, well, it might be. The Bandit's a small bird, old too. Built well, but I dropped a decently juiced drive in to her and it's meant to work with ships a bit bigger."

"Are we safe?" He snorted. "Oh yea, were fine. I know my ships we should be fine." I prey to all that's holy that the Compressor manifold holds

With an audible groan as the over powered hyper drive began to decelerate and the on board gravity generators began to make up for the physical deceleration of the ship. With a flash and very noticeable jerk the Drunken Bandit left hyperspace and returned to real space amid the rather calm system traffic of the system.

Slipping on his helmet he keyed in his comms and started broadcasting to the planet side controller.

"Rishii City tower this is VB-25 DB-110Z, requesting clearance to land."
After a moment a semi-digitalized voice came over the cockpit comms.
"Roger DB-110Z, tower is requesting your craft's make, we don't have you on file."

He sighed. "Roger, craft is a VB-25 light Express Freighter refitted for armed fast courier work, over."
"You're armed?"
"Roger tower, times two fixed K&B Kx7 lasers cannons and a trio of infantry blasters for door mounts. I run her as a gunship for side work."
"You got licensing?"
"Roger tower, my corporate paperwork for Moltech Mining should still be good and I have the cash to get intendent licensing once im planet side."

There was a long pause and as he began to cruise closer a warning alarm told him he was being painted by a ground based turbolaser array.

"Roger DB-110Z, your cleared to land, have a nice stay." The alarm stopped and with in 20 minuets the old ship was softly touching down in the sunny, adobe brick and painted ferrocrete star port.

"Sit tight for me kid, I'm going to head to the customs house." Winding the turbines down, he killed them completely and turned to the navicomputer, making a point to both lock it down and power it off.

Lastly, he threw on a light jacket over his simple shirt and pants, made sure his boots were laced and tight, holstered his A-180 and slung one of the DC-15 carbines on a sling. Rishi was a remote world, but it had laws. He could open carry as much as he wanted and the path to the Customs house would likely be through some less then savory parts of Rishii City proper.

When he returned to the cockpit he saw her tabbing through the Holonet projector, seemingly simply looking up the planet in general on the local net. "Alright, like I said sit tight. I need to get some paper work in order. I'm going to lock the shi-" Surprisingly fast, she jumped up from the chair and nearly landed on him. "Please don't, please don't leave me here alone!"

He was taken aback with this out burst and the fear radiated off her in waves. She clung to him, arms wrapped around his chest. Slowly, gently he hugged her back and cooed softly. "Alright. You can come. Stay Close, Stay quiet. If any one touches you, grabs you, anything like that, you scream, you understand?"

She nodded. "Good, grab that cloak, I don't need nosey folk asking questions before we can get you some clothes." With them both set, he turned and led her down the stern ramp and out the back in to the warm winds and sun of Rishi.
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
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Segmentia
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Postby Segmentia » Mon Oct 10, 2022 5:19 pm

16 BBY
Residence of Grand Moff Jania Quillan, Federal District, Coruscant


To have a residence in the Coruscant Federal District was seen as a mark of high position and status, even to those beings who were more common compared to the wealthy and powerful. It instilled a sense of pride, living in the Core of Coruscant, and by extension, the center of power for the Galactic Empire. The higher up one lived, the greater their wealth or influence, and those buildings closer to the centers of Imperial power themselves were also more prestigious than those further away. Grand Moff Jania Quillan had two personal residences in the Federal District, a suite of rooms in the exclusive 500 Republica residential tower, where she generally stayed and hosted people of importance, and the residence she was currently staying in, a rather large estate taking up several of the top floors of a residential spire that was butting up right against the Imperial Palace district.

She had been having a light breakfast in the upper terrace, which was essentially a mid-sized grove full of trees, grass, a few flower species she liked, and the like. It had been outrageously expensive to have built, at least from the perspective of the general Coruscant elite, but Jania was a Quillan, and a Grand Moff. Her residence on Taris would be far more spectacular, when it was finished construction.

Just because she was a Grand Moff, however, didn’t mean she never ran into difficulties or annoyances. The message from High Admiral Valens was one such unwelcome development. Her staff were now scrambling to prepare for the departure to the Trans-Nebular Oversector, otherwise known as Sector 13. They would be departing that evening, and important meets that had been scheduled for the next few days were being reorganized to try and cram them in before the departure. Some of them simply wouldn’t be possible, a few military officers, a few senators and bureaucrats, these could be rescheduled or dealt with by proxy, such as the plans for expanded military presence and support in the Quelii Oversector, and the contracts for expanded industrial and military infrastructure that were always lucrative. Other meetings were not so easily rescheduled and far too delicate to leave to proxies, however trusted they may be, such as a meeting that she had planned with the Emperor that was supposed to take place in two days. The Emperor was a busy man, and making sudden changes to his appointments was not something easily done, if at all.

A brief message would have to suffice, for a detailed one risked revealing secrets that the Emperor would be greatly displeased to see revealed. No one liked to admit it, but even the highest levels of encrypted messages risked being captured. Not by any rebel or criminal of course, but by other high ranking Imperials. Imperial Advisors, rival Grand Moffs looking for dirt, generals and admirals looking for leverage. Of course few would dare try to copy or steal a communique meant for the Emperor himself, but one did not reach such lofty positions without a healthy dose of daring.

To His Imperial Majesty,

My Emperor, as is your will, I depart at the earliest possible time to attend to matters in Oversector Thirteen and this so-called ‘Grand Republic Reclamation Fleet’, which I assure you will be dealt with swiftly and decisively. I am honored by your trust in my abilities to deal with this matter.

Due to this development I will clearly not be able to make my report to you in-person as originally planned. I will do so here in brief.

The campaigns to bring dissident elements in Quelii Oversector are progressing, however I must report that they are slower and more costly than originally assumed by my military advisors. The Drackmarians prove to be a stubborn and vicious foe, and with their position as the dominant species in the Oversector, I’m afraid these campaigns will take far longer than hoped. The Mandalorians have been kept content for now, and the Empire has secured the mining rights to large deposits of Beskar, and our contracts with MandalMotors and the Mandal Hypernautics Corporation have greatly boosted the Mandalore economy, but I fear that with time Mandalore will become resistant. My military staff are already preparing for such a possibility, and how best to divert it. Members of my staff will be submitting requests and bids for increased military presence to the High Command in the next few days.

As for the other matter you entrusted to me, trusted scouts and agents have found several ideal locations for the Expanded Military Infrastructure Project, which I will personally submit to you once more information is gathered.

Your loyal servant, Jania Quillan, Grand Moff of Oversectors X and XIII


With the secure communique sent, Jania turned back to her breakfast. Scarfing it down would be undignified, so she decided to take her time and enjoy the next twenty minutes or so, the last time she would have to herself for a while, no doubt. Or at least it would have been, if her mothers voice hadn’t intruded on her thoughts.

“I have packed my things, but your staff tells me I’m not on the personnel list.” The voice was stern, but motherly. Jania couldn’t help but smile as she looked up at her mother, Mektazi. Not her adopted mother, of course, that witch would neve address her in such a tone, but her real mother.

“That’s because I will most likely be traveling into a warzone, mother, and I would be a poor daughter if I allowed my mother to come along.” Jania said, gesturing to the seat across from her. Her mother stood in defiance for a moment longer and then sighed as she sat down.

“And why kind of mother would I be if I simply let my daughter go off into a warzone?” Mektazi said, the worry evident in her voice.

“One that trusts the thousands of trained soldiers and sailors between her daughter and any real harm. And a few Star Destroyers, for good measure.” Jania smiled.
“Would the same not apply to me, if I were at your side?” Her mother retorted, raising a brow in question. “Or would I be forced to wear one of those silly helmets the Imperial Army has?” There was a hint of amusement in that quip, but Jania had to admit that her retort made sense.

“You would look ridiculous.” Jania deflected for a moment before sighing. She knew her mother was simply worried about her, and also probably wanted to do something more productive than running Jania’s two households on Coruscant. “Do Gavenk and Krina not visit? You’ve always enjoyed their company, even considering the past.”

Mektazi looked at her for a long moment. “They do, and their company is enjoyable, even though I was their slave, yes. I will never begrudge Gavenk for buying me, he was an exceptionally kind master, and more importantly I would gladly still be his slave for what he has given my daughter. But I want to do more, Ibesca, not be remembered merely as the slave mother of an Imperial Grand Moff who then managed two prestigious but boring households on Coruscant.” Her mother crossed her arms over her chest.

Jania groaned. Her mother had brought out the true name card against her, and that meant there was no reasoning with her. But she still didn’t want to bring her mother into a possibly active warzone. Then an idea struck her.

“Well, how about instead of managing two boring houses on Coruscant, you manage the construction of a palace?” Jania said, smiling. She had inherited her hobby of architecture from her mother, who had been a properly trained architect before the Ryloth economy had seen her half starving in the streets, so it would make sense to have her mother oversee the construction of the Moff Palace on Taris.

Her mother raised a brow in thought. “Your palace on Taris? That’s quite a monumental undertaking, from what you’ve said, no?” Jania nodded. The Moff Palace was designed to act as a personal residence, an Oversector command center, and the center of Imperial bureaucracy and power in general.

“Palace might be underselling it, yes. But if you think the challenge is too much for you…” Jania shrugged, but was unable to hide her playful grin. Her mother was the universal image of a stern mother for a few seconds before sighing in exaggeration.

“Even if it proves to be, that’s what all your sycophants are for, no? To keep things running smoothly?” Her mother had a grin of her own. Jania groaned.

“They aren’t sycophants, mother, well not all of them anyway, they’re my staff. And yes, they keep things running smoothly.” Jania said, eyes shifting to the approaching figure in the gray uniform of the Imperial Navy. His four red and four blue plaque squares, plus two code cylinders identified him a man of fairly senior rank to those that didn’t know him, but Admiral Tycho Dystraay was her Imperial Navy liaison.

“How are you this fine morning, admiral?” Jania greeted the man as he approached.

“Grand Moff.” He bowed slightly, then turned to Jania’s mother. “Lady.” He bowed his head slightly. “I am well this morning, thank you. I’ve come to report that the Stargazer will be ready to depart sooner than expected. I managed to motivate Coruscant Command into expediting our departure.” The man said, the barest hint of a grin at the corners of his mouth.

“Did this motivation involve mentioning a Grand Moff and the Emperor's will that she depart at once?” Jania asked, already knowing the answer. Bureaucracy never changed.

“I use the tools at my disposal, Grand Moff.” Dystraay now had a small grin on his lips at the answer. “The Stargazer will be ready by midafternoon.” The admiral reported, and with a nod from Jania was dismissed. A few more meetings to be cut or rushed, but the quicker they departed the better. She also made a quick arrangement to have her mother and her things sent to Taris. She also made a note for one of her staff to keep an eye on a curios new officer in the Imperial Navy, an alien by the name of Thrawn.

16 BBY
A few days later, Ord Pardron, sector capital of the Trans-Nebular Oversector


The previous Grand Moff, Jania thought venomously, most certainly deserved the thermal detonator that apparently killed him. The Stargazer had arrived at Ord Pardron earlier that day and she and her closest advisers had come down to inspect and properly take control of the oversector. They had been met by the previous Grand Moffs own advisors and other ranking staff. They seemed a decent sort, experienced and proficient. But Ord Pardron was a disgrace. Who in their right mind would make some barely habitable…asteroid into the sector capital of an oversector? Oh sure it was rich in minerals and ores, but so were a hundred thousand other planets.

The beacon of Imperial power and law, on resplendent display on an asteroid that would be better off as a full-on mining colony. She would have to change that, if she retained control of the Oversector that was. Filve was near the top of that list.

She was currently sitting in a large briefing room, being given the rundown on the Oversectors military forces and dispersal. She wasn’t much of a military woman, not ever having served or gone to a military academy, but she had studied warfare in books, and was a quick learner from her staff. Her greatest strength, in her own opinion, was knowing and supporting the officers who would succeed.

There was some discussion of the previous Grand Moff and how he had met his end while inspecting new mines, whose ore was destined for Kuat. The mention of the world immediately made Jania think of Grand Moff Tiberius Kuat. Not a rival, but not a friend either, Grand Moffs were always looking out for their own best interest, and trying to stay in Palpatines good graces. Politics at this level was a dangerous game. She made a mental note to explore the opportunities this provided for her, and to find out how key to the Kuat shipyards these ore shipments were. But that was for later.

Right now, they had an offensive to plan.
Last edited by Segmentia on Sat Oct 15, 2022 7:34 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Revlona
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Postby Revlona » Tue Oct 11, 2022 5:04 pm

In Orbit above Milagro
Admiral Kalydan Pretit
The Grand Republic Reclamation Fleet


Once the proud vessels which sat still in the cold and lifeless vacuum surrounding the capital of the Republic stood for freedom, they were symbols of the Republics might. Kilometer long kings of the battlefield, at least they had been for the three years of war between the Republic and Separatist Alliance. Now, they were but relics of that republic which had once spread across the known galaxy and now counted only perhaps three dozen systems as still loyal, a third of those hosting planets worth naming inhabited. They were what was left of those forces still swearing allegiance to the Republic and the GRRF, five Venator Class Star Destroyers, a little under a dozen Acclimators, and perhaps six dozen escort vessels of varying size and reliability. Compared to the new Imperial Star Destroyers, the Venators could be seen as nothing more than underwhelming gun platforms. Their only strength came in the sheer number of fighter and strike craft, truly they were elegant weapons of a more civilized time.

Around this fleet buzzed, like nats on a wet world, a near constant screen of smaller craft. Fighters leaving or returning from patrol, gunships loaded with supplies and their escorts making towards the planet or the stations, bulkier civilian vessels could be found within the swarm but it was mostly the sleek design of republic strike craft which made up the craft.

Kalydan Pretit, Captain of the Resolute and head of the GRRF, sat at the head of one of the table in one of her vessels conference rooms. The room was host to about 2 dozen other officers in the uniform of the Republic Navy, captains of many of the vessels which floated in the space outside.

"...and finally, Captain Endur and the Spectator encountered a smuggling vessel illegally within republic territory, liquidated costs of the merchandise of goods aboard come to about 1 million credits, we believe they were on the tail end of a run." Commander Alvin Semson, CO of the Siren said, looking to Pretit as he finished.

Most of what had been said in the meeting had been known already to the gathered officers, all of it had been known to Pretit. To the other officers present, it was mostly new.

"We must Congratulate Captain Endur, such a bounty will go far in aiding the war effort," Admiral Pretit said to a general chorus of nods and other forms of muted agreement. The GRRF had its own politics as every organization must have, each of the captains often seized on opportunities to better themselves in the eyes of their Admiral. Pretit allowed it for the most part, though she tended to stomp out the more ambitious plays before any could take root, the treasonous plots were also viciously rooted out by Republic Intelligence, though that was mostly a rumor mill and couldn't account for much. It was made up of mostly sympathetic civilians and imperial defectors after all.

"Oh, and one more thing..." Semson said, grimacing as he looked at the dataslate before him. "Intelligence agents state that they have eyes on one Jak Morin...and the 18.5 million Imperial Credits that are rightfully ours in his hull. Intelligence has determined this a high value mission so several precautions have been taken to ensure the assets are recovered." Semson said, taking a deep breath as if to continue before he was cut off by Pretit.

"I want a minimum of two agents to meet with this smuggler and a strike team of legionaries ready to swoop down on him in case he decides to get feisty. 18.5 million credits is not an amount I am willing have to slip away." Kalydan said grimly.

"As you command Admiral," Semson said, taking down a couple notes before seating himself again.

"Very well, if their is nothing else then this meeting is adjourned. Until next time." Kalydan said as she stood, the other officers following her example.

An Hour Later
Aboard the Resolute


Kalydan felt the presence of the other person in her quarters as soon as she entered. Several things were out of place just enough to be noticeable, as if they had been picked up and put back in their original spots. Rolling her eyes, Kalydan said as she entered the rooms, "You could always knock when I'm actually here,"

"Ah but that'd give away the surprise," Enrik, Kalydan did not know if the man had a family name, said. His voice was a low rumble, though in an amused way not threatening.

"I assume you have something for me?" She said, pulling her uniform top off with a sigh and laying it out on her table.

"A few things actually," The Secret Head of Republic Intelligence said, seating himself at one of the benches opposite from Pretit as she poured two small glasses.

"First, we might have some company soon enough. Imperial Oversector 13 has a new Grand Moff, as well as more Imperial Forces which have been shifted to the oversector my sources tell me." He said, as Kalydan grunted. It was no real surprise to her, she knew the Empire would turn it's eyes to the Republic it had tried to kill three years before once more, they were as ready as they could be.

"Second," Enrik said after a pause, "Rishi, we have contac..."

"Ahah, so I've finally beaten you my friend." Kalydan said with a mischievous smile, "I already know about Rishi,"

"Ah I see...well then I'll move onto my last topic," Enrik said, grimacing at his defeat. "An Imperial Venator has begun orbit over Denon, it's supported by a small escort fleet, ripe to be added to the GRRF I'd say." Enrik said, smiling as he saw his friends gaze go distant as it always did when she began to calculate.

"Another ship of the line would be very welcome when the Empire comes knocking, very well. Get me details, it's fighter compliment, Captain, Crew Size, etc. I want it all," She said, taking a sip from her drink. "Now is that all the buisness? Yes? Good. It's been to long Enrik, have a drink with me and enjoy yourself."

Rishi

"It's a piece of shit...how the hell did he manage to get that thing and the cargo all the way here is a question all in itself." Marcus Smit said as he looked at the Drunken Bandit.

"I don't really care how he got it here, just that he has it." Elizabeth Luvsen with a grimace, she put a hand to her ear as she tucked her head back around the corner she was peaking from.

"Captain, this is Shadow 1, you know the drill. Clock starts ticking the moment we enter, 1 hour with nothing and kick the fucking door down. He tries to take off, blow that rust bucket out of the sky even if we're still onboard," Elizabeth said, her hand near her mouth as she spoke into the communicator.

"Aye Aye ma'am, call us if you need us," The Captain of the First Legions special warfare arm said, he and his troops spread out in the area around the ship and waiting for the word to go. Their armor was hidden under cloaks which could be thrown off quickly if need be.

"After you then Marcus," Elizabeth said, grinning at her partner before the walked up to the ship and knocked on the door.
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Imperialisium
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Postby Imperialisium » Tue Oct 11, 2022 6:34 pm

Merren IV

Merren IV was for all intents and purposes a backwater. A backwater full of natural resources. Namely, ores valuable for smelting and refinement into the construction of starships. From electrical components to durable alloys to the hard rolled and pressed armor plating of spaceships destined for warzones. The ores of Merren were extensive and barely tapped, with minimal exploitation during the waning years of the Old Republic, largely due to bureaucratic nonsense and conflicting senatorial interests. Needless to say, the appointment of Gars Tervils as Grand Moff over the entire region that Merren was located in only added focus to the more overt Imperial effort that now went into exploiting the world. Strip mines and boring efforts were underway by the second year of the Emperor's ascension to the Galactic Throne; and with over 90% of raw material shipments destined for the ever-growing operations of Kuat Drive Yards.

That is until resistance occurred from the locals. At first it was protests, the occasional riot, the sort of thing local constabulary could deal with. Then there was a bombing. Not just any bombing, but a flammable gas line pumping valuable precious elements for refinement into starship and repulson technology components went up in towering flames. It took four days and most of the Imperial garrisons round the clock effort to put the fire out before it engulfed the entire eighty-five billion barrels reservoir which would have burned for decades and been a tremendous loss. Specialists even had to be flown in from other star systems to help with the effort with an Imperial Intelligence and Security Bureau joint task force of over two thousand personnel to plug leaks of information from reaching the HoloNet.

Official Imperial reports stated it was a controlled burn to test 'extraction efficiency.'

Problems did not stop there. A repulsor craft was put on a collision course and loaded with raw fuels. Crashing into an Imperial gate at the star port within hours of Moff Cardian's demise and local Imperial commander's report to Tervils. Nineteen Imperial personnel killed or critically injured. Four Imperial light repulsor craft destroyed or heavily damaged.

The battalion of Imperial Army troopers reacted by understandably locking the spaceport down and closing all blast gates, blast doors, and activating a series of energy fences. Imperial Intelligence received the report on the happenings of the planet by their own agent in the field. A parallel and more dour report reaching the ears of the Imperial Security Bureau either just before or after.

Imperial Intelligence for the most part formulated a report through its Analysis and Sector Plexus (communications) branches before it was passed off to Intelligence Bureau and Operations. Which led to a concise action recommendation to Gars Tervils. Estimating that it would be eleven days before the situation on Merren IV got out of hand and leaked to other nearby settled systems. The Imperial Security Bureau took a more personal approach.

Kuat

Tylus Vandred, Sector Chief, walked calmly in the aboreal forests of Kuat. The great ring of steel which formed the world's twinkling ion engine fueled wealth high above. Beside him walked a holo-lith droid sporting the floating visage of a Commander Garreta.

"A detachment is to be sent to Merren IV. ISB Stormtrooper Taskforce Triple-Six along with the Intervention. To reinforce the garrison and carry out surgical strikes against these...reactionary sentiments."

"And Grand Moff Tervils?"

"Will be expected to intervene of course. A delay from the mines and resource fields inhibiting His Majesty's production orders would not be something one in his position could conceivably recover from. Are your orders clear, Commander?"

"Yes, sir. Reinforce and opportunistic counter-strikes until conventional reinforcements arrive."

"Excellent."

"When might reinforcements be expected."

"I trust the Grand Moff will tell me soon enough. But soon, nonetheless. I have sent a message for a meeting this evening. Dismissed."

The hologram faded away as Sector Chief Vandred meandered down the path. A missive to Tervils having been sent.

Code: Select all
Encryption: High
Priority: ISB Operational Level
Grand Moff Gars Tervils,

Sector Chief Tylus Vandred, here, requesting immediate attention to the situation on Merren IV. Insurrection cells postulated to form in the weeks after situation critical is reached. The latter expected in less than a weeks' time at current rate of escalation. ISB Stormtroopers are en route aboard the Arquitens-class light cruiser Intervention.

Request for Sector Security Planning Session is demanded for a time of your convenience.

<Dispatch Terminated and Self-Deleted>


One Day Later

The Arquitens-Class light cruiser Intervention exited hyperspace near Merren IV without issue. Cruising sublight as it bypassed the already forming queues of bulk haulers, tankers, and freighters. Waiting for the chance to dock, load, and depart the locked down space port. Commander Garreta stood aboard the bridge of the ship in her officer's uniform. The black-capped white dress of the ISB. This was an ISB ship after all and the base of operation for Taskforce Triple-Six.

Moving into geosynchronous orbit the Commander tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ears as she watched eight pairs of transports leave the hangar. Escorted by a flight of four of the new TIE space superiority fighters. Their roaring ion engines heralding the arrival of Imperial reinforcements to the beleaguered Imperial Army troopers. The troopers sighing some relief as the doors of the transports lowered on their hydraulics and the white armored bodies of ISB Stormtroopers rushed out. A full company augmented with an additional recon and heavy weapons platoon. Fanning out to secure their landing pad while individual squads broke off to reinforce their Army counterparts guarding the entrances to the star port.
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Parcia
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Postby Parcia » Tue Oct 11, 2022 6:59 pm

Revlona wrote:In Orbit above Milagro
Admiral Kalydan Pretit
The Grand Republic Reclamation Fleet


Once the proud vessels which sat still in the cold and lifeless vacuum surrounding the capital of the Republic stood for freedom, they were symbols of the Republics might. Kilometer long kings of the battlefield, at least they had been for the three years of war between the Republic and Separatist Alliance. Now, they were but relics of that republic which had once spread across the known galaxy and now counted only perhaps three dozen systems as still loyal, a third of those hosting planets worth naming inhabited. They were what was left of those forces still swearing allegiance to the Republic and the GRRF, five Venator Class Star Destroyers, a little under a dozen Acclimators, and perhaps six dozen escort vessels of varying size and reliability. Compared to the new Imperial Star Destroyers, the Venators could be seen as nothing more than underwhelming gun platforms. Their only strength came in the sheer number of fighter and strike craft, truly they were elegant weapons of a more civilized time.

Around this fleet buzzed, like nats on a wet world, a near constant screen of smaller craft. Fighters leaving or returning from patrol, gunships loaded with supplies and their escorts making towards the planet or the stations, bulkier civilian vessels could be found within the swarm but it was mostly the sleek design of republic strike craft which made up the craft.

Kalydan Pretit, Captain of the Resolute and head of the GRRF, sat at the head of one of the table in one of her vessels conference rooms. The room was host to about 2 dozen other officers in the uniform of the Republic Navy, captains of many of the vessels which floated in the space outside.

"...and finally, Captain Endur and the Spectator encountered a smuggling vessel illegally within republic territory, liquidated costs of the merchandise of goods aboard come to about 1 million credits, we believe they were on the tail end of a run." Commander Alvin Semson, CO of the Siren said, looking to Pretit as he finished.

Most of what had been said in the meeting had been known already to the gathered officers, all of it had been known to Pretit. To the other officers present, it was mostly new.

"We must Congratulate Captain Endur, such a bounty will go far in aiding the war effort," Admiral Pretit said to a general chorus of nods and other forms of muted agreement. The GRRF had its own politics as every organization must have, each of the captains often seized on opportunities to better themselves in the eyes of their Admiral. Pretit allowed it for the most part, though she tended to stomp out the more ambitious plays before any could take root, the treasonous plots were also viciously rooted out by Republic Intelligence, though that was mostly a rumor mill and couldn't account for much. It was made up of mostly sympathetic civilians and imperial defectors after all.

"Oh, and one more thing..." Semson said, grimacing as he looked at the dataslate before him. "Intelligence agents state that they have eyes on one Jak Morin...and the 18.5 million Imperial Credits that are rightfully ours in his hull. Intelligence has determined this a high value mission so several precautions have been taken to ensure the assets are recovered." Semson said, taking a deep breath as if to continue before he was cut off by Pretit.

"I want a minimum of two agents to meet with this smuggler and a strike team of legionaries ready to swoop down on him in case he decides to get feisty. 18.5 million credits is not an amount I am willing have to slip away." Kalydan said grimly.

"As you command Admiral," Semson said, taking down a couple notes before seating himself again.

"Very well, if their is nothing else then this meeting is adjourned. Until next time." Kalydan said as she stood, the other officers following her example.

An Hour Later
Aboard the Resolute


Kalydan felt the presence of the other person in her quarters as soon as she entered. Several things were out of place just enough to be noticeable, as if they had been picked up and put back in their original spots. Rolling her eyes, Kalydan said as she entered the rooms, "You could always knock when I'm actually here,"

"Ah but that'd give away the surprise," Enrik, Kalydan did not know if the man had a family name, said. His voice was a low rumble, though in an amused way not threatening.

"I assume you have something for me?" She said, pulling her uniform top off with a sigh and laying it out on her table.

"A few things actually," The Secret Head of Republic Intelligence said, seating himself at one of the benches opposite from Pretit as she poured two small glasses.

"First, we might have some company soon enough. Imperial Oversector 13 has a new Grand Moff, as well as more Imperial Forces which have been shifted to the oversector my sources tell me." He said, as Kalydan grunted. It was no real surprise to her, she knew the Empire would turn it's eyes to the Republic it had tried to kill three years before once more, they were as ready as they could be.

"Second," Enrik said after a pause, "Rishi, we have contac..."

"Ahah, so I've finally beaten you my friend." Kalydan said with a mischievous smile, "I already know about Rishi,"

"Ah I see...well then I'll move onto my last topic," Enrik said, grimacing at his defeat. "An Imperial Venator has begun orbit over Denon, it's supported by a small escort fleet, ripe to be added to the GRRF I'd say." Enrik said, smiling as he saw his friends gaze go distant as it always did when she began to calculate.

"Another ship of the line would be very welcome when the Empire comes knocking, very well. Get me details, it's fighter compliment, Captain, Crew Size, etc. I want it all," She said, taking a sip from her drink. "Now is that all the buisness? Yes? Good. It's been to long Enrik, have a drink with me and enjoy yourself."

Rishi

"It's a piece of shit...how the hell did he manage to get that thing and the cargo all the way here is a question all in itself." Marcus Smit said as he looked at the Drunken Bandit.

"I don't really care how he got it here, just that he has it." Elizabeth Luvsen with a grimace, she put a hand to her ear as she tucked her head back around the corner she was peaking from.

"Captain, this is Shadow 1, you know the drill. Clock starts ticking the moment we enter, 1 hour with nothing and kick the fucking door down. He tries to take off, blow that rust bucket out of the sky even if we're still onboard," Elizabeth said, her hand near her mouth as she spoke into the communicator.

"Aye Aye ma'am, call us if you need us," The Captain of the First Legions special warfare arm said, he and his troops spread out in the area around the ship and waiting for the word to go. Their armor was hidden under cloaks which could be thrown off quickly if need be.

"After you then Marcus," Elizabeth said, grinning at her partner before the walked up to the ship and knocked on the door.



Jak Morrin
Rishii City Space Port


His hand hovered over the door panel, the knock still ringing in his ears. Did these...these idiots just knock on my door, like that? These guys were either muggers or actually that stupid. He keyed over the Intercom that, luckily, had a singular speaker pointing outside under the tail assembly. "Yea, give me a moment, door actuator is rusty."

He turned and spoke in a low tone to Meli. "Go, cockpit, now." His voice was serious and tone low. This wasn't a simple request. He didn't need too, the hull was voidproof meaning no sound would carry, but he needed to be sure. Quickly he went to the E-Web station and dropped it down from its stowing cradle, the arm actuating in place and holding it just at chest level allowing the gunner to stand.

Checking it once over and powered it one but kept the cycler off. This effectively kept it safe but powered on and able to fire after a single second of spool up time. "Meli, you see the door panel in the crew room?" He got a shaky affirmative. "Good, hit the rear door button."

He didn't get an answer, but the door groaned and started to slip down, settling in the primarily dirt covered star port bay. The Cloud it kicked up obscuring the view in to the cargo hold. What it did not obscure how ever, was the sound of him flipping the cycling lever rather hard and the resulting whine as the heavy repeating blaster readied to fire.

"Don't move. 30 seconds. State your business."
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
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Postby Revlona » Tue Oct 11, 2022 7:35 pm

Rishi

"Fucking Paranoid Smugglers" Marcus said, dead panned as he stared death in the face. "Almost as paranoid as intelligence," the man muttered, making sure to keep his hands in open view even as he spoke. He didn't allow himself to look at his partner, the damned idiot on the gun would probably take it as him reaching for a weapon and would doom both their lives. Marcus by getting blasted by the smuggler and the smuggler by a bunch of gung-ho sailors.

"Elizabeth Luvsen, Republic Intelligence...you have our money..." Elizabeth said from behind him and to the left, she sounded exasperated, as if she dealt with their situation on a daily and was getting tired of it.

"Look smuggler, their is paranoi and then their is whatever the hell you're doing, it's not like you're a Jedi or anything, no need for such extravagance," The Field Agent said, her hands splayed like her partners. "Now put the damned turret down and let's get this over with,"
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Postby Parcia » Wed Oct 12, 2022 6:13 pm

Revlona wrote:Rishi

"Fucking Paranoid Smugglers" Marcus said, dead panned as he stared death in the face. "Almost as paranoid as intelligence," the man muttered, making sure to keep his hands in open view even as he spoke. He didn't allow himself to look at his partner, the damned idiot on the gun would probably take it as him reaching for a weapon and would doom both their lives. Marcus by getting blasted by the smuggler and the smuggler by a bunch of gung-ho sailors.

"Elizabeth Luvsen, Republic Intelligence...you have our money..." Elizabeth said from behind him and to the left, she sounded exasperated, as if she dealt with their situation on a daily and was getting tired of it.

"Look smuggler, their is paranoi and then their is whatever the hell you're doing, it's not like you're a Jedi or anything, no need for such extravagance," The Field Agent said, her hands splayed like her partners. "Now put the damned turret down and let's get this over with,"


Jak Morin
Rishii city Star port.


He let out a sigh and leaned forward on the gun. It had been a long couple of years for him, the last months especially so. His frustration was clear and apparent as he reached forward and shut the gun down. He still had his carbine and side arm, and could take em if he had too. Still, only folk bold enough to say they are Republic Intelligence, even at the sight of an E-web, were likely the ones he was attempting to deliver too.

"You all just don't learn do yea, even with the end of an era." he turned and lead them in to the cargo hold, past the larger boxes filled with mostly legal goods until he arrived at the tall plastoid box that Their money, and Melire, came in.

He pulled up a smaller box and sat on it as he watched the two agents take in the pried and blasted open box. "It's all in there, least, the 18.5 was all I was given. What I'd like to know though, is why by the moons of Hapse was there a kid in the box?"

Meli, still rapped in the blanket he'd given her, peaked around the corner and eyed the two republic agent's wearily.

"Go on, explain, I don't dabble in sentient trafficking. Guns, Spice, hooch. I even do legit cargo. I don't do Sentients, at least not against their will. I also don't like it when folk try to slip in unannounced cargo. If you knew of me well enough to find me for this, you know enough about my reputation as to way this type of thing rarely ends well for the Client."

There was truth behind his words, he'd been burned a few times in the recent past and made it a point of paying it back to the offending party ten fold, with bloody results. That was his business, He'd run just about any cargo you'd pay him too as long as there was no funny business.
Last edited by Parcia on Wed Oct 12, 2022 6:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
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Postby Revlona » Thu Oct 13, 2022 5:07 pm

Rishi

"Era isn't over yet scum, not while any true heart draws breath" Marcus said, bristling at the smugglers comments. He visibily calmed himself as Elizabeth put a hand on his shoulder and they made contact, her message though unspoken was clear. Not now.

They followed the escort, their own surprise showing quickly before leaving just as quickly as they viewed the child. Elizabeth forestalled what she assumed Marcus would do next by giving the younger and more hot headed agent a task. "Check the crates, ensure all of it is there, every credit."

They made eye contact once more and it seemed as if the man would say something, perhaps some barbed comment or an accusation, but reason seemingly won out and he turned to do his superiors bidding.

Elizabeth turned to the smuggler then and said, "The child is a problem, those we dealt with weren't known for trafficking, not that I have heard of at least."

As she spoke she readjusted her cloak, moving so that the blaster at her hip was easier to reach. It was not really a threatening move, more a cautionary movement as an unforseen complication had arisen and she wanted to be prepared in case the next complication involved violence.

"Little one, do you speak common? Why were you in those crates? Who put you there?" She said gently, motherly tones entering her voice. She also offered the girl a warm smile full of affection and genuine worry, all but ignoring the smuggler now to an outside observer, though he was very easily seen in the corner of her vision and her attention never strayed from his movements.
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Postby Imperialisium » Fri Oct 14, 2022 12:40 pm

Western Reaches Operation
Day 378
3.5 years after Proclamation of the New Order (16 BBY)
Drammassia


Striking from Eriadu just over a year ago, Imperial Forces have won a series of victories at Kelrodo-Ai, Pendaxa, Ord Vaug, Halm, Ichtor, Little Petrovi, and the fierce battle of the Feather Nebula where the Imperial Fleet staged a daring charge into the Separatist navy! Shea Hublin, Hero of the Empire, Ace of Aces, was instrumental in leading Imperial Starfighter forces at Kelrodo-Ai, Pendaxa, and Little Petrovi. Award ceremony recordings which were led by Moff WIlhuff Tarkin will be re-run on HoloNET channels 7, 19, and 28 this evening! Would you like to know more? Tune in for CorNEWS at 1800 Hours your local planetary time. There we will go over the details of the ongoing Imperial Western Reaches Operation and the fight against Separatists, terrorists, slavers, and pirates. We go on the ground, in the trenches, to meet the real Hero's of the Galaxy. Wherever, whenever, CorNEWS!

Pressing off the small HoloNET terminal in the middle of the camp. Which only played Imperial approved channels screened by the ISB. The Imperial Army troopers of the 82nd Drop Assault Division trudged through their trenches; well, they were separatist trenches yesterday, now Imperial. The Separatist armies in the Western Reaches had been divided up and scattered to a last remaining set of occupied worlds in the Senex and Juvex Worlds. A region of space that for the last thousand years had been dominated by ancient noble families and warlords. What the HoloNET wouldn't tell you is of course why the Western Reaches Operation had gone longer than a year. Especially, after further Separatist and Pirate defeats at Fahn and Ogoth Tiir. Which ended coordinated multi-sector wide resistance to the Empire. The problem was of course not the deaths of notable Imperial Admiral Bannidge Holt at Bryndar like the Separatists wished to believe, or the fact Romodi was nearly killed and blinded. Spending the rest of the Bryndar campaign stubbornly directing ground operations from a bacta tank. No, it was the fact that Moff Tarkin and the Imperial Ruling Council was trying to cajole the Ancient Noble Houses into cooperation. Slowing down the pace of the Imperial advance as the Empire sought to limit damage to the ancient Houses private assets. Needless to say, the Separatist stronghold of Mnorassa City was not one of them.

<<Opening Artillery salvo under way, bridging engineers moving up.>>

The voice of the company commander Captain Erik van Hoorn came over the trooper's commlinks. Over head the blasts from sixty SPHA-Ts caused a series of primary and secondary explosions ripping through the outer districts of Mnorassa's suburban outer belt of structures. The civilian population had been urged to evacuate by Imperial broadcasts for the past week, of course. But not all left, some were just too stubborn to leave their homes. Above a flight of TIE fighters roared overhead on a strafing run into the mountain valleys to the South. There, the troopers of the 102nd Imperial Assault Corps was waging a mobile guerrilla war with Separatist forces and droids in the dense forests and woodlands ringing the Southern edges of the city. Fires and smoke drifted throughout the forest as one tracked past firefights and skirmishes from South to North. The fighting at Meatgrinder Hill, battle of Felor-Ain Ridge, the Camboo Trail campaign further East which brought Imperial troopers up to the South-eastern agglomeration of the city. Taking the now sub-municipal urban area known as New Drammass four days prior.

Imperial Navy and Army Air Corps flights effectively cut off other approaches to the city. Besieged by fire control. Not that the Army had not deployed substantial forces to Drammassia. Some seven hundred thousand combat troopers were on world.

A whistle sounded and a second volley of heavy artillery slammed into the city. Followed by a sudden barrage of missile and orbital fire in locations no doubt marked by Imperial spotters on nearby hills and ridges. A fuel depot in the city went up in a spectacular black-orange cloud. The Imperial Army surging forth into the outer districts of the city in a torrent of blaster fire as Separatists, Droid and organic, desperately defended against the oncoming onslaught...
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Parcia
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Postby Parcia » Sun Oct 16, 2022 1:16 am

Revlona wrote:Rishi

"Era isn't over yet scum, not while any true heart draws breath" Marcus said, bristling at the smugglers comments. He visibily calmed himself as Elizabeth put a hand on his shoulder and they made contact, her message though unspoken was clear. Not now.

They followed the escort, their own surprise showing quickly before leaving just as quickly as they viewed the child. Elizabeth forestalled what she assumed Marcus would do next by giving the younger and more hot headed agent a task. "Check the crates, ensure all of it is there, every credit."

They made eye contact once more and it seemed as if the man would say something, perhaps some barbed comment or an accusation, but reason seemingly won out and he turned to do his superiors bidding.

Elizabeth turned to the smuggler then and said, "The child is a problem, those we dealt with weren't known for trafficking, not that I have heard of at least."

As she spoke she readjusted her cloak, moving so that the blaster at her hip was easier to reach. It was not really a threatening move, more a cautionary movement as an unforseen complication had arisen and she wanted to be prepared in case the next complication involved violence.

"Little one, do you speak common? Why were you in those crates? Who put you there?" She said gently, motherly tones entering her voice. She also offered the girl a warm smile full of affection and genuine worry, all but ignoring the smuggler now to an outside observer, though he was very easily seen in the corner of her vision and her attention never strayed from his movements.


Melire would freeze at being addressed before darting out from her cover, through the cargo hold and, much to his own surprise, stand behind Jak. "I uh...couldn't get more out of her earlier. She seems intent on keeping what ever haunts her out of her mind for now. Regardless, we have things to do, errands to run and money to exchange. Count your bills, all there, I didn't mess with the seals on it. Once your done, you give my mine, then kindly get off my ship."
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
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Postby Revlona » Sun Oct 16, 2022 8:35 am

Rishi

Elizabeth scowled at that, her good will and morals struggling with the mission at hand. On one side of the coin she wasn't a fan of leaving a small girl with a smuggler, it'd be better for her if she could somehow be found a family to take her in. On the other side, she didn't seem to be in any immediate danger and was seemingly being well treated by the smuggler. Duty won out.

"Very well, Marcus?"

"It's all here, 18.5 million credits." Marcus said, appearing once more with a tablet in hand and before unseen pair of glasses on his face.

"Good. Now, the agreed upon cut was five percent plus another seventy five thousand credits, if you have a bill of the fuel and other necessities it took you to get here we will foot that as well," She said before looking at Marcus again and raising an eyebrow.

"The two crates at the end their should hold roughly what is owed to him, we can move some over from the other crates for an exact count." he said.

"Sounds perfect," She said before looking at the smuggler and adding, "I'm going to call in some friends to make this all easier, don't be alarmed I'm not going to rob you of your fair cut."

"Captain, have first team keep a lookout and perimeter while second team brings up the ship and help us out with the process," She said into the communicator on her wrist.
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Postby Segmentia » Sun Oct 16, 2022 4:37 pm

16 BBY
Ord Pardron, sector capital of the Trans-Nebular Oversector


After several days at the Ord Pardron military base and ‘governance sector’, Jania had simply confirmed her initial thoughts on the oversector capital. It was drab, dull, and wholly unsuited to govern an area as large as the Trans-Nebular oversector, even if large parts of the sector were under Hutt influence, something that suited the Empire for the most part so long as the Empire received its due. She had very quickly found herself designing a new oversector capital, even as she sat through countless meetings on every aspect of the oversector. Tax information, raw resources output, industrial capacity, population, recruitment efforts, etc, etc, etc. It was all important information, of course, and although Jania was far from a micro-manager, she knew it was important to be aware of the big picture. Some Grand Moffs and Moffs were content to simply reap the rewards of their stations, letting trusted underlings manage all the details while they spent all their time trying to tear down their rivals and raise themselves up. But knowing how the details worked, and what they should all add up to, was important.

Of course all of that was a secondary consideration to the planning of the Milagro offensive. Finding herself seated at the head of another large table, with officers from the Imperial Navy, Army, the Stormtroopers corps, and Imperial Intelligence gathered around. Admiral Tannon Jakorr for the Imperial Navy, General Val Berend for the Army, High Colonel Madar of the Stormtrooper Corps, and Agent Arar of II.

Most of the talking was between Admiral Tycho Dystraay, her military liaison, Admiral Jakorr, and General Berend, going over and arguing about the minute details. High Colonel Madar and Agent Arar were mostly silent, only chiming in when needed. The briefings had been over for almost an hour now, and the conversation had simply delved into arguing about plans. Jania was fully listening in, but was also still reading some of the endless reports about the Oversector in general. There was a tension filled pause in the conversation, an annoyed, aggressive voice filling the gap.

“Perhaps the Grand Moff would like to weigh in on the matter, if she can be bothered to pay attention at all, that is.” Jania looked up from her tablet to see Admiral Jakorr almost glaring at her, with several other officers looking at him with wide eyes in return. She had read the briefing on Tannon Jakorr, a Core Worlder with a disdain of most aliens, paired with a bad temper, his promotion to Admiral had been purely based on family ties and politics, and clearly not his own abilities or any real intelligence. Jania’s lips twitched into an amused little grin.

“Does the Admiral think I am incapable of giving my attention to more than one thing at a time?” Jania asked, unable to keep the amusement from her tone. “I am an Imperial Grand Moff, personally selected for the honor by Emperor Palpatine himself, and trusted enough to be given command, however temporary it may be, of an entire other Oversector. But since you insist on me weighing in on the argument you have been keeping alive for the past ten minutes, admiral, I shall.” Jania said, setting her tablet down.

“We shall go with the secondary, more straightforward, attack plan, as High Colonel Madar, General Berend, and Admiral Dystraay suggest. It will see the rebels driven out of the Milagro system the fastest, and thus the trade lane, even if we have to be bothered with brushing aside whatever force they have at . The mopping up of the rest of this GRRF is secondary.” It was clearly the best option, Jakorr just didn’t like it because it wasn’t flashy, and there would be less glory to cover himself in, naturally.

Just then a door to the briefing room opened and a mid-level Navy officer stepped in, bowing slightly to Jania. “Grand Moff, as ordered I am reporting to you that the Lament has arrived and is on station and awaiting your orders, ma’am.”

Jania smiled and stood. “Thank you, captain. Gentlemen, prepare the fleet for departure.” She ordered, getting a chorus of affirmatives in response, the assembled officers filing out of the room to bring the fleet to full readiness, and for their no doubt swift campaign to begin.

-Several hours later, bridge of the Praetor Mk2 battlecruiser ‘Lament’-

“Exiting hyperspace in thirty seconds.” A voice spoke out calmly on the large bridge of the Lament.

“Section heads, report readiness.” Admiral Dystraay ordered just as calmly. Jania sat in the command chair of the bridge, simply observing. She hadn’t been on many warships, and certainly not when they were going into battle, but the bridge of the Lament was perfectly calm. Granted it probably helped that it was a battlecruiser about to go up against, at most, a patrol fleet of vastly inferior ships. If Imperial Intelligence was to be believed, anyway. The bulk of the GRRF tended to stay at Milagro, and as eager as she was to simply move on and drive the scum out of the Milagro system, she didn’t think it would be wise to leave even a small enemy force at their backs.

“Your orders, Grand Moff?” Dystraay asked, turning to Jania. There had been some talk about offering terms of surrender to the Rebels, it would result in the quickest possible resolution to the task, but she very much doubted they would be so inclined.

“Destroy them.” Jania answered simply. There had been some talk about offering terms of surrender to the Rebels, it would result in the quickest possible resolution to the task, but she very much doubted they would be so inclined. Besides, three years in open rebellion and defiance against the Empire simply couldn’t be allowed to stand, a message had to be sent, clearly and brutally.

“As you will, Grand Moff.” Dystraay said, turning away and resuming his position just before the command chair. Jania tapped the tips of her fingers together in thought as the Lament and its taskforce dropped out of hyperspace and into the Thaereian system. Jania checked her chronometer, the rest of the fleet would be ten minutes behind the Lament and its escort ships.
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Parcia
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Parcia » Sun Oct 16, 2022 10:27 pm

Revlona wrote:Rishi

Elizabeth scowled at that, her good will and morals struggling with the mission at hand. On one side of the coin she wasn't a fan of leaving a small girl with a smuggler, it'd be better for her if she could somehow be found a family to take her in. On the other side, she didn't seem to be in any immediate danger and was seemingly being well treated by the smuggler. Duty won out.

"Very well, Marcus?"

"It's all here, 18.5 million credits." Marcus said, appearing once more with a tablet in hand and before unseen pair of glasses on his face.

"Good. Now, the agreed upon cut was five percent plus another seventy five thousand credits, if you have a bill of the fuel and other necessities it took you to get here we will foot that as well," She said before looking at Marcus again and raising an eyebrow.

"The two crates at the end their should hold roughly what is owed to him, we can move some over from the other crates for an exact count." he said.

"Sounds perfect," She said before looking at the smuggler and adding, "I'm going to call in some friends to make this all easier, don't be alarmed I'm not going to rob you of your fair cut."

"Captain, have first team keep a lookout and perimeter while second team brings up the ship and help us out with the process," She said into the communicator on her wrist.



He nodded, doing the math in his head and promptly produced an actual paper receipt for fuel. It was for nearly two grand. "Apologies, all they had was the over priced corpo shite. High power but poor quality, nearly blew out a compressor manifold on re-entry."

He got up, leaving Meli to take his seat on the crate while he went and fetched a secure case. "Don't bother with that. 5% of 18.5 is a cool 950k, with 75k on top being a cool mil. Cover the 6 grand in fuel and you could fit it all in a small secure box like this one." He popped it open with a flick and offered it to the male agent, his name escaped him.

Upon seeing what he presumed to be Republic soldiers given they moved from their hiding spots. "I've got a cargo sled if you all need one, I'd like this to be finish up as quickly as we can."
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
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Theyra
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Theyra » Wed Oct 19, 2022 6:32 pm

RC 1717 "Cross"- Caos Ingvan
Socorro


Why did it have to be Socorro? Why of all of the planets in the galaxy, that his client had to be on a world run by criminals. It could at least have been a place where there was some kind of legitimate government. Instead of a world that is being fought over by gangs. He does not know which gang controlled Socorro at the moment and honestly, he does not care. He is here for one thing and that is to deliver a bounty. Cross sighed as his ship was entering the atmosphere of the world. Still, the silver lining here is that the Empire has no presence on the planet. This means he does not have to worry about dealing with Imperials and can freely operate here. Though he will not be on the planet for long as the client is waiting for him at the starport at Vakeyya. The capital of this crime-infested world, and all he knows is that his client is very eager to get this bounty. Makes sense since this particular bounty a Gran had killed the client's brother who was second in charge of the client's criminal enterprise on Socorro. While Cross might have helped the Gran since he took down a major criminal but, he did a background check on the Gran, and he was a criminal like the rest of the people of this world. At least someone is getting justice, Cross mused to himself.

Getting closer to the starport, Cross prepared his final approach and by instructions of the client. He would land in hanger five, and it did not take long for him to find it. Landing down and quickly spotted a group near the entrance of the hanger. "Must be the client", Cross said to himself and left the cockpit to deliver the prize.

Wearing his full armor, Cross had the landing ramp lowered and forced his captive in front of him. The Gran being bounded with cuffs, and Cross forced him forward with his rifle and moved around the ship towards the client. Who was eagerly moving towards the two. A human with a big smile on his face and had his entourage was close behind. They were obviously guards based on the weapons they were carrying and the client, When the three of them met, the client spoke first with a happy tone. "Ah, bounty hunter I see that you have found this murderous Gran and alive at that."

"He is worth more alive than dead, and you made that clear on the bounty board," Cross responded.

"I very much did bounty hunter, and I can not express how happy I am that you both found him and brought him back alive." The client locked eyes with the Gran and suddenly sucker-punched him. The Gran fell to the ground, and before he could react, the client quickly kicked the Gran in the chest several times. "I told you I you would not get away with this Thagh!" Murder was in his eyes, "you are going to pay for what you did to my brother you hear!" Kicking the Gran some more before stopping and collecting himself. Then facing Cross, "I am sorry for that outburst. I just loved my brother very much and this.... filth took him from me".

"Understandable sir and if you do not mind, I would like my payment."

"Ah my manners," and the client snapped his fingers, and a human came forward with a case. Opening it and a large number of credits was inside. "As promised 90,000 credits and for delivering him alive and something I would like to add. If you ever stay at Socorro feel free to visit my casino, the Crystal Majesty, and if I am around. I will show you a good time if you caught my drift". The client winked at Cross with a smile on his face. "What is your name, bounty hunter, so I can find you if you come by?

"Caos Ingvan, and if that is it, I say we are done here."

Without another word, the client stepped back and motioned to his guards who picked up the wounded Thagh, and Cross was given the case just after closing it. With the case now his, Cross wasted no time returning to his ship and prepped his ship for launch. Soon, leaving the hangar and making his way back to space. Once there and, he took off his helmet and let out a loud breath. Cross did not wish to work for a criminal, but he needed the credits, and it seemed like a doable job despite the competition. Which it was now he has time to relax with his helmet off. He moved to his private quarters and sat down on his bed.

Looking back at his helmet before laying it down on the bed. Cross can just imagine how his brothers would react to him right now. Gate would yell his ear off for working for a criminal. Ori would have explained to him why this was a bad idea and Cable. Cable, his old squad leader would just simply remind him of who he should be, a soldier for the Republic, and not what he is now a bounty hunter. These thoughts weigh heavily on Cross, and he tried to keep his morals intact. Though to survive, he had to take some liberties, which he regrets doing. He can't be a soldier of the Republic anymore, nothing will change that, and even if he was not wanted by the Empire for assisting the Jedi and leaving the Empire. There was no way he would ever consider joining up with them. Cross's hands clenched into a fist in anger as he thought about Chancellor Palpatine. That man tricked everyone, even the Jedi, and used him and his fellow clones to do his dirty work while he prepared his plan to take over the galaxy.

Then Cross's anger turned to sadness about thinking about what happened to his brothers. Order 66 that accursed order, why did Cable and Ori want to follow that order? Did something compel them to follow it, or did they actually think that the Jedi could be traitors to the Republic? And so easily did they turn their blasters on Him and Gate when they rejected the order. After everything they went through and the fact that they were brothers. How could they do that? Cross knew he will never get an answer to the questions he has and could only wish that they listened to reason and not carry out Order 66. Maybe if they had the full squad, they could have saved Master Bran and her apprentice.

Cross laid down on his bed and took some deep breaths to calm down. That was some years ago, and much has changed since then. Better not to focus on the past right now, despite how much he thinks about it. Cross missed his brothers a lot and just wished he could see them again. Which is something he knows will never happen. After several minutes in bed, he got up and collected his helmet. Moving back to the cockpit and brought up the bounty board.

Cross scrolled down the list for some moments before stopping at one bounty. "Let's see here," Cross said softly to himself. Tiadni Klas, human, female, 34, Royal Naboo Security Forces officer, wanted for two counts of murder and theft. Last seen on Tatooine, 45,000 credits dead or alive. "Hmmm," Cross leaned back in his chair. "So a renegade from Naboo," He said as he got up the specifies of the bounty. "A murder and.... ah. She is wanted by the Royal Naboo Security Forces for killing one of her fellow officers and killing a guard after getting caught and fleeing on a stolen ship". Cross stroked his beard, "I wonder what caused the sudden murderous intent, and Tatooine is not that far away." Cross thought about it for a while before accepting the bounty. Then punching in the coordinates for Tatooine, "Let's see if I can bring a murderer to justice." With that, Cross made his jump to hyperspace and now waited to begin the hunt.
Last edited by Theyra on Wed Oct 19, 2022 8:15 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Revlona
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Father Knows Best State

Postby Revlona » Thu Oct 20, 2022 3:08 pm

Milagro
The Grand Republic Reclamation Fleet


"Admiral! Incoming communication from Theare, Critical level! It's Commander Delya of the Fortitude!" The Communications officer of the Resolute, Lieutenant Amar Spee, said. His young face plastered with excitement at what news was swiftly arriving from Theare. The Empire had finally arrived.

"Send it through," Kalydan said simply, composing herself as she waited for the hologram to appear before her at the main holo table. She masked her own excitement with a forced calmness, she was hoping to show a good example to her younger officers like spee as well as the enlisted crew members on the bridge.

"Commander, you are looking as charming as ever." Admiral Pretit said, the joke void of any real feeling of amusement. Commander Han Delya was a handsome young man with a good career ahead of him, or so Kalydan had always thought. Now it looked as if the younger man would see said career end here. Even through the hologram Kalydan could see the blood which slid down his face from the cut above his eye as well as how his left arm hung at an awkward angle across his chest.

"Thank you Admiral, it means much to me." Delya said, attempting a smile. They both knew what this was at this point and both were willing to play their parts.

"Very well, Report Commander." Kalydan said, the sadness seeping into her voice, though only slightly.

"Ma'am. While patrolling the Republic sector of Theare, Task Force Fortitude encountered overwhelming Imperial forces. I immediately hailed you for aid as you know, however at this time I must rescind such a request. Enemy forces here are powerful, they are lead by a Battlecruiser, a Preator. They also have two interdictors that my fleet were able to identify as CC-22000s. As such we," The image shook then and Delya stumbled, Kalydan assumed his vessel must have been hit by something but did not mention it as Delya continued.

"As such, we were unable to make an escape. I regret to inform you that Task Force Fortitude has been lost, our escorts fought valiantly but have been destroyed or otherwise disabled. The Fortitude itself has sustained massive damage under a barrage from the Battlecruiser and its compliment of escorts and strike craft. I ordered all hands abandon ship and I am happy to report that the evacuation has been more successful than I hoped. I stayed behind to relay this message. It has been an ho---" The hologram cut out then and Kalydan looked to Lieutenant Spee.

"The Signal has been lost Admiral," The young man said, the excitement drained from his face, which was now pale. Admiral Pretit nodded once at him before looking at the table where her old comrade had stood just moments before, "The Honor was mine, you will be avenged." She said, anger flashing in her eyes.

"The Empire means to stamp out the Republic once and for all," Kalydan said, nodding once as Spee grasped what she wanted quickly and began a fleet wide broadcast, that made her smile, he was a quick lad. "They mean to destroy what remains of Freedom and Democracy in the galaxy. I say this to you my comrades and to them my foes, come and try. You will regret it, your ships will burn in this system under the fire of Republic ships and craft. They cannot hear me now, but you can my friends, please help me pass on this message when they arrive." She said grimly. She was surprised when the bridge broke out into a cheer, albeit a muted one. She had wanted grim determination, perhaps this would do as well.

The feed cut and she began to give orders at a quick pace, "Recall all personnel from the planet, liberty is revoked. Double the Combat Air Patrols and receive confirmation that all combat wings are ready."

"Aye Aye," Her XO said from where he was, below her in the bridge.

'Recall Task Force Judgement and Task Force Wrath as well," She added, nodding to herself. The fleet itself was already moving into defensive positions, directed towards where they now knew the Imperials would come from. They had begun moving as soon as the first distress signals were heard. Kalydan hoped what they had would be enough, at least to make the Imperials regret not bringing more, if not for an out right victory. She knew it would take a miracle to achieve that, she wondered at that point if a prayer would help, though she wasn't sure who to pray to.

Resolute - Venator (Full fighter/bomber/strike complement, 3x SPHAT Armed)
Insurgent - Venator (Full fighter/bomber/strike complement, 3x SPHAT Armed)
Spirit of Democracy - Venator (Full fighter/bomber/strike complement, 3x SPHAT Armed)
Herald - Venator (Full fighter/bomber/strike complement, 3x SPHAT Armed)
Champion - Venator (Full fighter/bomber/strike complement, 3x SPHAT Armed)

Spectator - Acclimator 1 (Reinforced armor)
Wrath of Milagro - Acclimator 1 (Reinforced armor)
Judgement - Acclimator 1 (Reinforced armor)
Omen of Peace - Acclimator 1 (Reinforced armor)
Fortitude - Acclimator 1 (Reinforced armor)
Humility - Acclimator 1 (Reinforced armor)

Siren - Acclimator 2
Avenger - Acclimator 2

13x Dreadnoughts
12 10x Carrack Class Light Cruisers
6 5x Centax Class Heavy Cruisers
8x Arquitens Class Light Cruisers
14 12x Consular Class Light Cruisers
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Flarbinia
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Father Knows Best State

Meeting With Dregg

Postby Flarbinia » Fri Oct 21, 2022 10:53 am

Tulq City
A YU-410 entered landed in the hangar of an asteroid city, an Arcona approaching with several Duros thugs. The ramp extended, an R3 Astromech heading down the ramp, followed by a bearded man in a dusty and rusty body armor. "If I expected a welcoming committee, I would've brought more guys to this job, Dregg." The man said to the Arcona as he approached him. "You can't blame my boss for wanting to make sure the Engspice makes it to our warehouse, 'Ace'. Smugglers in this part of the hangar have been shaken down, robbed, even killed. The fact that the targets were in the employ of Black Sun eliminates the possibility of small timers being the culprits." Dregg said to the smuggler as the thugs looked around to make sure nobody was watching them. "That's ridiculous. Why would the Tulq Family, the Hutts, or the Pykes risk losing money by targeting Black Sun shipments? The Tetrarchy has benefitted everyone involved." "Ace" said to Dregg as the Arcona pulled out some salt and ate it. "You forget that the Tulq Family used to rule the roost in Tulq City. Nothing could be moved in or out of this asteroid without their approval. You can't blame Hosk for wanting to return to those days when he ain't watching fights in the arena or killing a slaver for skimming off the top. The Pyke Syndicate was built on Spice, so they are the obvious suspect. Tialoc The Hutt is also involved in the Spice Trade, but his incentive would be the elimination of a competitor in the smuggling and distribution of weapons." Dregg said to "Ace" before motioning for him and the R3 to follow him.

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American Pere Housh
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Postby American Pere Housh » Fri Oct 21, 2022 8:04 pm

Segmentia wrote:16 BBY
Ord Pardron, sector capital of the Trans-Nebular Oversector


After several days at the Ord Pardron military base and ‘governance sector’, Jania had simply confirmed her initial thoughts on the oversector capital. It was drab, dull, and wholly unsuited to govern an area as large as the Trans-Nebular oversector, even if large parts of the sector were under Hutt influence, something that suited the Empire for the most part so long as the Empire received its due. She had very quickly found herself designing a new oversector capital, even as she sat through countless meetings on every aspect of the oversector. Tax information, raw resources output, industrial capacity, population, recruitment efforts, etc, etc, etc. It was all important information, of course, and although Jania was far from a micro-manager, she knew it was important to be aware of the big picture. Some Grand Moffs and Moffs were content to simply reap the rewards of their stations, letting trusted underlings manage all the details while they spent all their time trying to tear down their rivals and raise themselves up. But knowing how the details worked, and what they should all add up to, was important.

Of course all of that was a secondary consideration to the planning of the Milagro offensive. Finding herself seated at the head of another large table, with officers from the Imperial Navy, Army, the Stormtroopers corps, and Imperial Intelligence gathered around. Admiral Tannon Jakorr for the Imperial Navy, General Val Berend for the Army, High Colonel Madar of the Stormtrooper Corps, and Agent Arar of II.

Most of the talking was between Admiral Tycho Dystraay, her military liaison, Admiral Jakorr, and General Berend, going over and arguing about the minute details. High Colonel Madar and Agent Arar were mostly silent, only chiming in when needed. The briefings had been over for almost an hour now, and the conversation had simply delved into arguing about plans. Jania was fully listening in, but was also still reading some of the endless reports about the Oversector in general. There was a tension filled pause in the conversation, an annoyed, aggressive voice filling the gap.

“Perhaps the Grand Moff would like to weigh in on the matter, if she can be bothered to pay attention at all, that is.” Jania looked up from her tablet to see Admiral Jakorr almost glaring at her, with several other officers looking at him with wide eyes in return. She had read the briefing on Tannon Jakorr, a Core Worlder with a disdain of most aliens, paired with a bad temper, his promotion to Admiral had been purely based on family ties and politics, and clearly not his own abilities or any real intelligence. Jania’s lips twitched into an amused little grin.

“Does the Admiral think I am incapable of giving my attention to more than one thing at a time?” Jania asked, unable to keep the amusement from her tone. “I am an Imperial Grand Moff, personally selected for the honor by Emperor Palpatine himself, and trusted enough to be given command, however temporary it may be, of an entire other Oversector. But since you insist on me weighing in on the argument you have been keeping alive for the past ten minutes, admiral, I shall.” Jania said, setting her tablet down.

“We shall go with the secondary, more straightforward, attack plan, as High Colonel Madar, General Berend, and Admiral Dystraay suggest. It will see the rebels driven out of the Milagro system the fastest, and thus the trade lane, even if we have to be bothered with brushing aside whatever force they have at . The mopping up of the rest of this GRRF is secondary.” It was clearly the best option, Jakorr just didn’t like it because it wasn’t flashy, and there would be less glory to cover himself in, naturally.

Just then a door to the briefing room opened and a mid-level Navy officer stepped in, bowing slightly to Jania. “Grand Moff, as ordered I am reporting to you that the Lament has arrived and is on station and awaiting your orders, ma’am.”

Jania smiled and stood. “Thank you, captain. Gentlemen, prepare the fleet for departure.” She ordered, getting a chorus of affirmatives in response, the assembled officers filing out of the room to bring the fleet to full readiness, and for their no doubt swift campaign to begin.

-Several hours later, bridge of the Praetor Mk2 battlecruiser ‘Lament’-

“Exiting hyperspace in thirty seconds.” A voice spoke out calmly on the large bridge of the Lament.

“Section heads, report readiness.” Admiral Dystraay ordered just as calmly. Jania sat in the command chair of the bridge, simply observing. She hadn’t been on many warships, and certainly not when they were going into battle, but the bridge of the Lament was perfectly calm. Granted it probably helped that it was a battlecruiser about to go up against, at most, a patrol fleet of vastly inferior ships. If Imperial Intelligence was to be believed, anyway. The bulk of the GRRF tended to stay at Milagro, and as eager as she was to simply move on and drive the scum out of the Milagro system, she didn’t think it would be wise to leave even a small enemy force at their backs.

“Your orders, Grand Moff?” Dystraay asked, turning to Jania. There had been some talk about offering terms of surrender to the Rebels, it would result in the quickest possible resolution to the task, but she very much doubted they would be so inclined.

“Destroy them.” Jania answered simply. There had been some talk about offering terms of surrender to the Rebels, it would result in the quickest possible resolution to the task, but she very much doubted they would be so inclined. Besides, three years in open rebellion and defiance against the Empire simply couldn’t be allowed to stand, a message had to be sent, clearly and brutally.

“As you will, Grand Moff.” Dystraay said, turning away and resuming his position just before the command chair. Jania tapped the tips of her fingers together in thought as the Lament and its taskforce dropped out of hyperspace and into the Thaereian system. Jania checked her chronometer, the rest of the fleet would be ten minutes behind the Lament and its escort ships.

Miria Maden Otherwise Known as Fourth Sister
Onboard the Lament


After arriving onboard the Praetor Mk2 battlecruiser ‘Lament’ while it was in the Ord Pardron system, Miria in her specially made Inquisitor armor was guided to a guest room designed for VIP guests by 2 stormtroopers. Soon after she arrived, Miria felt the ship jump to hyperspace so she decided to meditate on the Force while the ship was in hyperspace. Several hours later, Miria opened her eyes after feeling in the Force that that the fleet has returned to Real Space. She stands up and put her armor back on before finally putting her mask on and clipping her saber to her side.

Miria exits her room and asks a lieutenant where the bridge is located at. The lieutenant guides Miria to the bridge before returning to his previous duties. Miria enters the bridge and walks up to the Admiral and the Grand Moff in a non-threatening manner. She looks at both of them with a smile though they wouldn't notice due to her mask before speaking, "Greetings Grand Moff Jania, Admiral Dystraay and before you ask why I am aboard your ship, I have been ordered here by Lord Vader due to fugitive Jedi possibly being apart of this Grand Republic Reclamation Fleet. If the rumors are true then I am to eliminate these Jedi scum and assist you in eliminating these Rebels once and for all. Before I forget, you may call me Fourth Sister as that is the only name I will provide."
Government Type: Militaristic Absolute Monarchy
Leader: King Alexander I
Prime Minister: Isabella Stuart-Jones
Secretary of Defense: Hitomi Izumi
Secretary of State: Eliza 'Vanny' Cortez
Current Year: 2752
Population: 75 billion

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Segmentia
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Mother Knows Best State

Postby Segmentia » Tue Oct 25, 2022 3:50 pm

Thaere system, bridge of the Lament

The engagement hadn’t lasted long, the rebel escorts destroyed or disabled swiftly, with the Acclimator following shortly after. There had been a lapse though, their communications hadn’t been scrambled. Jania’s eyes found the small cluster of officers, each more senior than the last, and each one berating those of lesser rank than themselves. Losing the element of surprise against the main rebel fleet was a setback, though fairly minor at the end of the day.

“These ships were in surprisingly good order.” The gruff voice of Admiral Jakorr cut into her thoughts, his hologram image beside that of Admiral Dystraay, Jakorr’s taskforce having arrived shortly after the Acclimator had been destroyed. His image showed one arm crossed over his midsection, the other resting on it and reaching up as his fingers played at the lines of a scar across his upper lip. “In much better order than we had been led to believe by Imperial Intelligence.” He grumbled.

“Indeed. And I wouldn’t count on it being a one off. I think this GRRF is much better maintained than originally thought.” Dystraay added.

“If those Venators of theirs are as well maintained and have full strike craft compliments, we’re in for a rough time.” Jakorr chimed in. Both of the navy men were veterans of the Clone Wars, they had commanded Venators of their own. “I’m confident we would still be victorious, of course. As soon as we get into a gun battle with them we would overwhelm them, but those strike craft, if they have them, will give us a decent mauling.”

Jania listened to the conversation even as she watched out the viewport at the front of the bridge. There had been a lot of escape pods launched from the Acclimator, and the ships of the Imperial fleet with tractor beams were busy capturing as many as possible. Once the fleet moved on, a single Gozanti cruiser would remain behind to corral the others, and destroy them if need be.

“I shall send out orders for more ships to make their way here, including some Venators of our own and anti-strike craft frigates and light cruisers, but we will continue to move on Milagro on schedule. Once we arrive and see what we are dealing with first hand, we will reassess.” Jania said, cutting into the conversation. “I want the fleet ready for the hyperspace jump to Milagro in five minutes.” She called the meeting to a close, turning to face Fourth Sister.

“Grand Moff Quillan.” Jania corrected. She wasn’t intimidated by force users, or these Inquisitors. If Lord Vader had been there it would have been a different story, of course. But she would be damned if some underling would be so formal with her. The gall!

“You may carry out your mission as you see fit, but know that I will not tolerate any intrusion upon my own. My orders come from the Emperor himself. I hope we will be able to aid each other, rather than hinder one another. As for any of the traitor Jedi, no intelligence reports indicate their presence with the GRRF, but it would make sense, and from what you no doubt overheard, Imperial Intelligence has had a bit of a failing regarding the GRRF so far. If you wish, I’ll authorize you to speak with the prisoners brought aboard. I’m sure the interrogators would appreciate the…assistance. Though I doubt the rank and file would know such secrets.” Jania turned her attention from Fourth Sister and to her data-slate, where she rapidly began typing orders.

The 55th Squadron was to move and secure the space of the Gamor system with all haste, and reinforcements from surrounding sectors were sent for, to gather at the four systems that directly surrounded Milagro. It wouldn’t be a perfectly secure net to trap the rebels, should they decide to flee, or even be able to, but they were the most likely routes. Jania was fairly confident that they wouldn’t need the reinforcements, but a delayed victory was better than a potentially embarrassing defeat, should the two admirals' concerns turn out to be correct.

By the time her communications were prepared and sent, the fleet was ready. With a simple nod from Jania, Dystraay ordered the fleet into hyperspace. The jump to Milagro was short, and the fleet came out in perfect formation as one. TIE’s were launched and took up defensive patterns as the fleet began its in-system journey. The CC-2200s were ready to activate their interdictor fields once the enemy fleet were in range, and the jammers were ready to scramble communication, though this was delayed as incoming communications would also be jammed.
Proud super-heavy tank enthusiast of the Imperium of Man

"We've lost control! Now for the love of Earth...and the Sovereign Colonies, we've got to do what's right."

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Parcia
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Founded: Feb 11, 2016
Democratic Socialists

Postby Parcia » Wed Oct 26, 2022 9:11 am

Jak
Rishii city Space port


They were gone. After once again verifying balances owed, he came out with just shy of 1.1 million credits. There was a problem though, in that they were Republic Credits. Still worth the metal they were machined from but with the new block chain code system the Imperials were pushing hard, he'd have to fine a private exchange to pass his cash off in to Imperial credits.

He sat down in the pilots chair of the Drunken Bandit and went about plugging in his terminal in to the ship's Holo transceiver. It had it's own, a MegnaVox one with high bandwidth and good ICE, but he didn't want to risk his personal on the rather unsecured open channels used in public spaces. His ship had its own, and had the benefit of having a some what older, but considerable layer of protection in its old military transceiver.

Booting up and entering his Password, he quickly tied in to the ship's beacon and let it begin its search for the local sub net while he got up and went to the small galley. Meli sat on the rack, still bundled in the blanket and idly playing with his spare holonet viewer. "Won't find much out here, Rishi isn't much beyond a remote vacation stop and an relay point for corporate actions in to the maze. Give me a second and I'll see if I Can patch in to the local relay and get some good vids on."

She nodded, though he could tell she was more engrossed in to the device to really hear him. he smiled a bit as he went about searching for his pipe and that roll of fine Malastare tobacc. Securing his morning smoke, he returned to his seat just as the terminal notified him he had bypassed the local open net and found the access point to the local Corporate Subnet.

These weren't too uncommon, most of the local corporate authorities chose to host their internal services on private, guarded sub-networks to insure secure usage and storage of data. Navigating through the page, he found the login landing and promptly entered his Contractor's credentials. They were still good, and would actually last the next two years per his last contract with Cerzka.

Finding the chat room that allowed the various corporate contractors to send communications remotely, he selected the one "Paused" users and quickly input in to the chat box his memorized code phrase. After waiting just a few moments, the "user" that was infact a bot, sent back the frequency port that would patch him in to the Subnets dark half.

Reaching over he tuned the array to the right band, pinged it to make sure it was connected and soon enough he was in the darknet. Almost every privately owned local net had a dark half or hidden net used for less then reputable services, even Corporate nets had them and if one could secure proper credentials, were arguably a lot more safe in the fact they were often run by Company Slicers and white hats who were in to making some credits on the side hosting the pages.

Finding the right user, he intitated the ping and sent the request.

Bandit: Hey, you open?
Chithands: Bandit? thought you were running the maze
Bandit: Finished up my last contract, pulled some side work, have a bundle of cards I need exchanged for legal tender
Chithands: Republic, Imperial, or Script?
Bandit: Rep to Imp, 1-1 if possible.
Chithands: That's tough, new management is pretty on top of that stuff now, you gonna need chain codes to?
Bandit: ofc, standard fee?
Chithands: Throw in a bottle of the Fire Whisky you have and Ill waive it, standard fee only, how much?
Bandit: 1.2mil, looking to get my entire bank switched over, discretion and authenticity are needed
Chithands: Hitten the big gigs now, nice. 1.1 to you, Ill charge standard fee and waive everything else for old times sake and a bottle of the whisky.
Bandit: Sounds good, still at your old place?
Chithands: Nah, blue shirts raided the old place, got out clean though. Ill send the new deets. anything else?
Bandit: I've got a plus 1, she's good, too young to know what were up to
Chithands: You get some one pregnant?
Bandit: Relative's kid, got no were else to go, need the cash to go legit fully and find something more concrete to set roots down.
Chithands: daww, going soft now?
Bandit: Still hard enough to knock some sense in to you.
Chithands: Ha. your good man. Got to get back to work, head down any time before dark.
Bandit: Cheers
Chithands: Cheers

Signing off, he wiped his loggs, hard disconnected from the company access point and put the terminal away just as the data packet containing the new address hit his ship's server and he memorized it before wiping it too. Going about the cockpit, he locked the ship's navicomputer and controls before reaching down and pulling the data key he kept in the control console. This would further lock the controls even to slicing attempts and would require some one to hard break the flight computer and flash write a new ship by hand, something almost no thief would be able to do.

He entered back in to the Crew space and slipped on his gun belt and bag containing his coms link and terminal. "Hey, kid, were going to run an errand real quick and get you some clothes. Grab that space jacket." she hopped down from the bunk and finally slipped out of the blanket before wrapping her self in the over sized coat. She fallowed him down to the rear before finally opened the ramp again and escorted her out. He had his A-180, boot knife, scrambler tool, terminal, and more importantly, the box of credit chits in his hands.

Of course he recalled the DC-15C and went back for it, slinging it over his shoulder and properly hiding the box in his satchel bag before finally locking the ship from the outside panel and setting out to the port office to get their papers drawn up.


Some time later..

The papers were good. Good money to the port authority got them legit papers freshly drawn up and with those in hand, he made his way to the...noodle shop? "Chithands" as they were known, was a good private exchanger who Jak has a good history with. Still, he took certain cautions. First was taking several side trips and random stops, checking each time they were fallowed and when he finally found the shop after making sure they weren't fallowed he was surprised when the Duros man running the counter took one look and ushered them inside.

He would have to talk with him about that but that was a conversation for later. Quietly ducking through the back door in to the kitchen he and Meli quickly slipped past the kitchen crew be arriving in the back to what looked like a sabbac game in progress. At the table sat a Wookie, a Corellian, two more Duros and Nemoidian. He stood there and paused for a moment, the room going silent at the sight of the scruffy man and the child before the Nemoidian spoke up. "You Bandit?"

"Who's asking?" He replied, discreetly slipping his hand to his blaster before the the smaller of the two Duros put up a hand. "It's good Jak, I've got your chits here, you got yours?" The alien presented a small box of high denomination chits. Still, the smuggler was spooked. "Forgetting something?" The Duros, who was in fact "Chithands" smiled wide and put a hand up.

"Your fine friend, these are my relatives and his body guard. Good people, they know what's up." Still, he didn't relax too much and gently tossed the box on to the table before taking the new box and checking it's contents, counting the chits and checking the chain code key before closing it. Looking back up, he smiled back finally and nodded. "Drop off the bottle at the port?"

"Yea, have a great one man, and get the kid some food, she's thin as a rail."

As evening draws...

1.1 million credits in fresh Imperial note chits. After exchanging two at the office in the port authority building for change in lesser note, they took an air taxi to the small market district and started their shopping run. They ended uo browsing through a small clothing shop and buying Meli some nice fitting clothes that were well above the rags she had been in and even got her a cute little set of boots. The next shop was a gear dealer, mostly to turn in his old A-180 for something more substantial. Two things caught his eye.

The first was a hold out blaster, barely the size of a Childs toy. And old Blasteck KT-12 "Ladygun" or hold out blaster. With a 10 shot capacity and low weight, it'd make a good training gun for Meli, even if her vision limited her possible accuracy. It cost him a poultry 90 Credits and came as is. The other was something that amazed him. A Genuine Blastek IB-94 blaster pistol. Not only was it in good condition, it was an Officer's Service Pistol model with higher power out put and expanded capacity. All tied together with an authentic holster and spare packs.

That cost him close to eight grand, but it was a nice change and felt right in the low gunslinger's holster on his belt. Lastly they ended up at a Caffe open to the warm summer's night and he once again was searching through local star ship listings while Meli proudly wolfed down the hearty stew and sweet pastries he had ordered for her. "Eat up kiddo, were hitting the rack after this cause we've got a big day tomorrow."

She swallowed her food, roughly half of a cream pastry and asked a question. "What are we doing tomorrow?" He smiled and ruffled her hair a bit. "Getting a New ride."
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
Right leaning Centrist from Florida No I am not The Floridaman...hes my uncle. Other then that dont @ me about politics, im leaving that
hell hole behind until I leave Uni.
I reserve all rights to my posts, OCs, and contributions to any threads I post on.
I'm a Catholic too, figure that shit out!
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