Futuristic Star Wars: The Last Platoon - IC

[Grim Wraithe Stjerna]

Horvaan, Horvaani Plainlands
Approaching the Sovereign Will

TC-2051 stood near the loading ramp, one hand gripping the brace bar and the other resting on his favored weapon: Z-6 Rotary Blaster Cannon, connected to an external large battery pack worn on his back, with his E-22 stowed next to it within easy grabbing. Swaying gently as the landing craft bobbed and rocked through the growing sandstorm.

Under his helmet his eyes were shut, not really asleep and not really awake, simply dozing and resting as he always did during the waiting time before a combat drop. The rocks, sand and debris pinging and thumping off the hull was like comforting white noise that helped block out any casual chatter that wasn't directed at him.

"Alright troopers, you know why we're here already but for simplicity's sake I'll say it again;..."

The Command Sargent Major turned his full attention towards his Commanding Officer and listened to the mission brief again. Nodding along and looking around the troop compartment seeing who was paying attention, who was letting their mind wander, and who was probably asleep. 'Of course you want the droids. How much do you owe to whom?' Looking towards Sharn. Even if he could not see it, he might feel the raised eyebrow, eye squint, and frown from under the obscuring helmet faceplate.

Finally Crix's helmeted gazed turned to Hail, giving a slight nod with two fingers touching the brow is his helmet in a form of a salute, to the Death Trooper. Knowing how much she prided herself on being able provide the very best level of protection. Though he would have preferred to not split the group and had the extra blasters, and tuck the VIP's into the middle of the pack.

Cadrick raised his chin slightly. "Questions?" He glanced at Miss Dhavo. "Anything to add?"

"Don't blow up the ship," responded the Pantoran, giving everyone an icy stare.

Hearing their patron make that comment, he smirked under his helmet and his hand patted the satchel of extra fragmentation, ion, and breaching grenades. As well as several thermal detonators. In addition to the four C-25's at his back. 'But parts of it are ok.' He thought to himself. His hand moving to pat his tertiary weapon, a suppressed SE-14, on his thigh.
"Sir, so we're not expecting this an opposed landing, but there should be hostile sector patrols?"

Waiting until after Caddrix responded he heard the comment about command for Besh. Looking to Prejet nodding, then to Jet Trooper. "You don't want to be up front on the skirmish line corporal?" Though he knew he would be upfront providing any heavy weapons support, and the thought of having the agile and heavily armed trooper who could provide unique defilade made him while a bit.

Interactions: Viper Actual Solar Daddy Worthlessplebian Bronco
archur

 

[Worthlessplebian]

The scout trooper's hand released brace bar to rest it on his hip. The drag, turbulence, a bumpy ride in general didn't really seem to affect the lithe Lieutenant. Bend with the wind, as they say. The obsidian gaze sweeped itself over the troopers. Ignoring the white noise outside to listen in on their chatter or questions.

A-ha, a little comedic profit? Prejet peaked his eyebrows and stretched a knowing smile under the bucket at their resident profiteer. And the scout wasn't above it, he knows it, it's grab on sight for grav bike parts with him. No stern looks from him this time.

Codary at last decided to join them from the pre-battle nap that he took. A trooper's essential activity before an insertion. Stowing the cynical remarks before they stooped too low into a dark pool.

He hovered his emerald optics on him as the jet trooper examined and prepared his kit. Prejet admits that flying around with a rocket strapped to your back is dangerously exciting with just a hint of stupid too, that would've been Prejet's second career path.

Then the Lieutenant grimaced with closed eyes beneath his helmet. Now why did he have to remind him of that? Prejet has been putting off accepting that fact until the loading ramp dropped.

He skipped all the stages of grief to acceptance. Smiling at his own annoyance. Before he could answer the corporal, Command Sargeant Major replied with a witty question of his own. The scout hammered his left pec with a closed fist at his sibling from a different mother. "Yea, Corporal, I'm the guy with the leadership stick on this mission." He then gestured with two thin fingers. "I'm not sticking you on the front, but you'll be in the middle. Try not to scorch us too badly. " if he gets the chance to utilise his vertically then this wouldn't be an optimal spot, but anticipating narrow corridors and fewer open, this is the second best spot Prejet thinks.

He chances a glance at Hail and her DeeTee squad, giving them a nod for good luck. Not that they'd need it, of course, Prejet has full faith in them to get out of any sticky situation.

Interaction/Mentions:
Bronco Grim Wraithe Stjerna archur Solar Daddy

 

[Viper Actual]

"All information data or just the main data core and starcharts?"

Cadrick looked at Prejet before glancing towards Iessa whom took a small step forward. "The main data core and the bridge starcharts are off-limits. I have no use for any other data you may come across and in the event that I do I'd be more than willing to lift it off of your hands for a fee."

Adding to that sentiment Cadrick spoke up as well; "If you see a dataspike, cylinder, tablet or anything else you are more than welcome to bring it with anything else we loot. We can sort out useful from useless later on." Aboard the Vigilant Keeper, though that small but essential detail is not for the ears of these mercenaries.

"Speaking of stuff we're allowed to shoot, can we take some of the droids? Are they free to just grab? I plan on taking at least twenty to forty or so when we're done."

Sharn's question- and the chatter that followed- amused Cadrick somewhat and the veteran officer allowed himself to smirk slightly. "Sharn, you are more than welcome to bring sixty B1s if you can- assuming you find a way to lift them all on your own."

Some of the troopers present chuckled lightly in response to the final statement made by Cadrick.

"Sir, so we're not expecting this an opposed landing, but there should be hostile sector patrols?"

Cadrick shook his head lightly. "Weather is too hostile out here on the Plainlands- especially for droids operating well beyond their expected lifespan. I'd be surprised if we encounter any forces operating outside the confines of the ship, though I'd rather not bet on it."

"Stay sharp regardless- we don't know what we'll come across either way."

"Lieutenant? You running this show? Volunteering to take up the rear sir," he'd jest with a little hand raise.

"You don't want to be up front on the skirmish line corporal?"

"Yea, Corporal, I'm the guy with the leadership stick on this mission."

Nodding, Cadrick forced himself into the conversation;

"Lieutenant Castus will take point for Besh, Sergeant Kitressi for Aurek. I trust both of you to assign one assistant squad leader each. Initially I will deploy alongside all of you but once we've secured a foothold I will be hanging back at the ship to coordinate our efforts alongside a couple of reserves."

Kitressi responded by tapping Hailin on her shoulderpad. "Arko for Aurek, sir."

Cadrick nodded. "Very well," he said before turning towards Prejet. "Castus?"

 

[Bronco]

As their employer stepped forward, Codary found himself rolling his eyes, thank the cosmos for his helmet. It took most of his reserve effort to not roll the entirety of his head, so the expression was unavoidable. From the moment she'd first addressed the team, the corporal had a bead on her. Placing her in the hard ass category of their client archetypes, he'd expecting nothing less than a cold opening line. He did have to give her props for addressing them as such in front of death troopers however, if not for directly addressing them at all. Client's didn't deploy, at least not the caliber of client any of the Outlaws would've been used to. The fact this Pantorian was willing to ride into a potential combat zone and still keep it all together, either spoke for her fiber directly or the importance of her task. In the case of the ladder, Row didn't know whether to welcome such an element of mystery.

"The main data core and the bridge starcharts are off-limits. I have no use for any other data you may come across and in the event that I do I'd be more than willing to lift it off of your hands for a fee." This time, the corporal found himself cocking his head, a bit surprised at the woman's business offer instead of what he expected to be a threat. He'd have little time to ponder on her response as the Q/A continued.

As the questions came rolling in, Codary paid close attention to Lieutenant Cadrick's answers. He particularly enjoyed their CO's response to Sharn's quandary, elbowing the trooper beside him with laughter. "Careful there, Sir. He might take that as a challenge," he informed the Lieutenant before things settled back down. The rest of the information given made good sense, Codary nodding along with the explanation of their insertion.

"You don't want to be up front on the skirmish line corporal?"

"And take your job? Wouldn't dream it, Sergeant Major," he'd smile behind his helmet, eyes shooting between the man's face and hulk of a rotary blaster. He was already imagining the fire such a weapon may soon be sending down range, and making a certain note to himself not enter its sector of fire. "Fitting choice by the way," Row would proceed to stick a finger at the weapon. " 'Thing was practically designed to scrap droids. Probably an old friend to most the units in there."

"Yea, Corporal, I'm the guy with the leadership stick on this mission. I'm not sticking you on the front, but you'll be in the middle. Try not to scorch us too badly." Row found himself sitting further back in his seat, shoulders bleeding some small amount of subconscious tension. Call it fear, call it stress, call it wear on the trooper's mind, but hearing he'd be even a tad rear of the formation's head brought him to ease. It hadn't bothered him as much in the golden days. He'd get his assignment, take on a smidge of adrenaline, and then plan accordingly. Where he was hardly made a difference to him when the unit stepped off. Presently however, the story had changed. Perhaps the patriotism just wasn't there anymore. Maybe a more logical portion of his mind remembered how pressed for life saving resources the remnants now were. Either way, a foolhardy Row was lost with the Empire.

"Sounds like a plan, Sir. I'll see what I can do about that second part."

Interacting with: Worthlessplebian Grim Wraithe Stjerna archur

 

[darth]

Leto examined the sights of his weapon, triple checking that they had been set properly. He flipped it over to ensure the exhaust ports were free of debris. He recalls a moment back on Ryloth when a trooper had failed to clean his weapon properly. The vents were clogged with dirt, causing the blaster to overheat. During a firefight, the blaster's barrel burst and sprayed hot shrapnel into the trooper's face. Luckily, his helmet caught most of the debris, but it failed to protect his neck and hands. Leto was in close proximity when this happened, red-hot blaster shards pieces singed Leto's fatigues.

Best not to make the same mistake...

He shook the memory from his head, glancing around the transport. Cadrick's Outlaws painted a strange picture indeed. A slew of different armor colorings and units, a motley crew indeed. The DTs were on guard duty, and they sat closely together as usual. Leto and Veila were assigned to Besh Squad, tasked with clearing out the crew quarters and the bridge. Leto assumed that his squad might encounter the heaviest resistance--if any, he'd need to keep his head on a swivel. He'd heard about B1s from old Clone Trooper stories. They never really painted them as formidable opponents, but Leto wasn't one to underestimate--thinking like that can get you killed.

Any mook with a blaster is dangerous... Even if they are just mindless droids...

Leto turned to Veila who was making sure their medical packs were properly stocked. Her hands flipped past gauze, bandages, and--most importantly--bacta packs.

"Karking smugglers skimped us," Veila said, "We didn't get even half of what we paid for."

"Bacta is hard to come by," Leto said, "And it sure isn't cheap."

"We're lucky we even got bacta packs at all..."

"These droids better be as bad everyone says they are," Veila said, "I'm not sure we have enough if shit hits the fan..."

"Keep your voice down," Leto said elbowing her side, "How much bacta we have is a need-to-know basis, and they don't."

"What happens if someone gets hit and we're fresh out?" Veila said returning Leto's elbow in kind.

"We'll manage," Leto says, "We always do."

"What if it's me, Leto?" Veila says, "What if I get hit, and all we have are karking rags and gauze..."

"Don't get hit..."

 

[Worthlessplebian]

"All I ask, Corporal." Lieutenant Castus mused aloud, not exactly addressing or facing the jet trooper sinking into his seat. Unaware of the stress, the rolling tension in his fellow trooper's shoulders. Prejet returned to Cadrick's answering of their quandaries, satisfied with his own. Plus the prospect of getting a bigger payout because they found a note on an officer's dear-diary tickled the scout on his funny bone.

"Castus?"

Cadrick then turned his attention to the scout trooper, prompting him to stiffen his body, from head to the big toes. Chin up, chest out. He pondered the question, looking around squad Besh for his assistant leader. From the mid-conversing trauma-two-oh, Leto & Veila to the flyboy Codary to the cred-head Sharn (who, Prejet hopes, has the creativity to haul sixty B1s just for the entertainment of it) to the armed-to-his-pearly-teeth Command Sergeant Major Crix Bastra. His stance loosened, widening the space between his feet. The ol' gears in his head went tick, tick, tick, brow furrowing in further concentration. It was obvious he thought about what their talents and skills could bring to the table.

He leveled his arm then shot a finger at: "Bastra for Besh, sir." Before bringing his arm to the vibro-blade holster on his left shoulder. A glint as the blade slithered out of its moorings. Its point bit into Prejet's charcoal shoulder plate then streaked diagonally across, completing a set of tally marks, one of many before returning to its sheath.

He chose the coastal defender primarily out of familiarity and because he wanted the assistant squad leader to be someone in the front while Prejet covers their rearends. Rearends... The scout trooper tapped his hips as he realized. "Hey, Slick. Toss me your E-22. Might as well get something faster firing than my sniper. Don't worry, Slick, I'll treat it like my sniper." then he looks to Cadrick. "An E-11 would also do."

Interactions/Mentions: darth , Bronco , Viper Actual , Grim Wraithe Stjerna

 

[Viper Actual]

"An E-11 would also do."

Nodding in response, Cadrick nods towards one of the other troopers- an Army corporal named Faxon- who in turn reached towards a small weapon rack nestled between two of the seats. Originally racks such as these contained weapons and supplies for use during emergency crash-landings but over the course of the war experienced shuttle pilots would develop a habit of stocking them with both Imperial and non-issued equipment such as extra bacta kits, spare communicators, thermal detonators and more.

Faxon grabbed an E-11 carbine and skillfully deployed its stock. The weapon had been modified with a non-Imperial mid-range scope- which had most likely been stripped from an Alliance A280- as well as a canted holographic dot-sight.

As the corporal checked the inserted powercell's capacity he also flicked on the canted sight, causing a red dot with angular brackets on both sides to literally appear from thin air over the weapon's right side.

Faxon nodded and handed over the weapon to Prejet, nodding as he did. "Good to go, Lieutenant Castus."

Just then Skyfire's voice echoed over both the shuttle intercom and the platoon comms;

"Ten seconds!"

Cadrick and several others seemed to stand to attention out of pure habit upon hearing the announcement. He used both hands to tighten up his officer's cap, something he had a habit of doing before a mission commenced.

"Stand to, troopers!" He barked. "Aurek on the left flank, Besh on the right! Support elements are with me and the client down the center!"

The latter group referred to Corporal Faxon and five other junior troopers. Prior to their arrival on Horvaan Faxon's team had been the backup-team brought along in the event that something went wrong and as none of its members had been assigned to Aurek nor Besh they would serve the same function here- unless Cadrick said otherwise.

By now the rumbling and shaking was slowly decreasing altogether as the shuttle drew close to the Sovereign Will and the cover which its massive profile offered.

Then, with a loud thump, the shuttle set down on the rocky plains with the hydraulic-assisted landing gear automatically kicking in to keep the craft upright. Cadrick pulled down a pair of protective goggles over his eyes- as did Iessa and her two bodyguards- just as the troop compartment depressurized and the shuttle door opened downwards and extended.

Before the ramp had even properly set down Aurek moved forward in close formation with their weapons shouldered and readied. Scrambled speech from one of them- Kitressi no doubt- were drowned out by the howling winds whipping and slashing into the hold.

Yet the Death Troopers disembarked without issue and fanned out to form a line of shooters that slowly crept left. Next up was Besh and its mixed composition of various troopers, setting foot just as fast and just as ready.

Finally Cadrick, Iessa and the two mercenaries disembarked from the hold with three grunts fanning out on either side of them. From a bird's eye view the three squads would appear as two diagonal lines shielding a chevron with the shuttle resting behind.

With one quick glance Faxon made sure everyone was clear of the ramp before giving Skyfire and her co-pilot a thumbs up;
"Ground team is clear!"

"Roger, have fun down there boys and girls! Skyfire, out!" Came the response as the shuttle clamped up and tool off in one swift motion.

Cadrick was scanning the massive craft in front of the platoon with a set of standard-issue Imperial macrobinoculars. It was the same pair he'd had at Kashyyyk and many battles before as well as many battles since.

Seeing nothing but the sealed up hangar door he tucked away the binoculars and pulled out his pistol while gesturing forward. "All squads forward!"

Immediately the squads began their approach.

"Keep it tight, people!" Said Kitressi over the secured DT-comms. Racksen responded with a barely audible grunt.

As the troopers and their employer began to near the ship they came upon a row of rocks evenly placed before the hangar doors. They appeared to be Ugnaught-sized and upon closer inspection they weren't actually rocks;

"Droids?" Asked Orim, one of Faxon's troopers.

Upon closer inspection the row were five rows and the rocks were B1 battle droids.

Cadrick held up a hand which prompted orders to halt to echo among the troopers. "Kitressi," he said. Kit nodded and carefully approached one of the droids which was covered in sand up to its chest.

Its thin skeletal-like head had tilted a bit to the left but beyond that it still looked like it was active as both hands cradled an E-5 blaster rifle in a sort of sentry-like stance. As she came up to the droid Kitressi nudged it with the muzzle of her rifle, causing the head to drop forward.

In response most of the platoon tensed up and tightened up their shooting stances- only for the droid to collapse entirely, with its torso, head and arms swinging forward into the sand that had buried its legs and hips.

Carefully Kitressi retrieved the E-5 rifle, shook it to clear it of decades of sand before placing it on her back. She nodded towards Cadrick. "Clear, sir!"

Cadrick nodded and the advance resumed. Iessa peeled off to the right of the hangar door and popped loose one of the panels. "One moment," she said.

The Lieutenant took the opportunity to examine the vessel in front of them;

Despite its age and supposed scuttling the Sovereign Will was in a remarkably good condition. It showed some scoring on the exterior- no doubt from its fiery descent and from intense ion storms- but beyond that and a few missing exterior panels and pieces of plating it actually looked like it could take off at any second.

Cadrick looked right towards the prow of the ship and observed similar damage though when he looked to the left he could see metal jutting out from the hull.

Kitressi saw it too and nodded. "Engine overload?"

Cadrick nodded. "Most likely."

The hangar doors groaned and Iessa returned the panel to its original home before standing up. Everyone else came to as the two overlapping hangar doors retracted, revealing a vast and surprisingly well-lit hangar. Just beyond the hangar doors laid a treshold of sand, signifying that the doors had opened previously.

Further in the hangar was both remarkably empty as it was silent. A pile of broken B1s laid to the left with a couple of cargo speeders next to it. To the right were a pair of half-disassembled Vulture droids with various parts and even scrap dotting the hangar floor around them as they dangled slowly from a pair of ceiling racks.

Beyond that the hangar was clear of both anything and anyone, with all adjacent corridor doors and tunnels appearing to be sealed up.

"Well," said Cadrick. "Move up! Secure a perimeter and check all that gear! We don't want nor need any surprises waiting for us."

 

[Grim Wraithe Stjerna]

Horvaan, Horvaani Plainlands
Landing then The Sovereign Will hangar bay

"And take your job? Wouldn't dream it, Sergeant Major."

The older trooper smiled and chuckled with a slight shake of his head. Before he could reply his Lieutenant rogered up for him being the his second. "Bastra for Besh, sir."

With a pleased and knowing smile he gave a small nod of acknowledgment, as the black clad Scout Trooper etched another tick mark into his pauldron. "Hey, Slick. Toss me your E-22. Might as well get something faster firing than my sniper. Don't worry, Slick, I'll treat it like my sniper." Then he looks to Cadrick. "An E-11 would also do."

The Command Sargeant Major started to reach for how secondary. "You know Slim one day you're going to poke through that lowest bidder armor right?" Commenting on the plastoid construction of most of the Imperial armor commonly issued. His gauntleted hand just grasped the E-22 when Faxon offered up the, in the Shore Trooper's opinion, interior carbine. "If you change your mind Clatter, I've got this magnum load on standby for ya." Patting the weapon secured to his back.

Just then Skyfire's voice echoed over both the shuttle intercom and the platoon comms:

"Ten seconds!"

"Stand to, troopers!" Caddrick barked "Aurek on the left flank, Besh on the right! Support elements are with me and the client down the center!"

"Sergeants, Corporals! Form up your fire teams! Weapons out! Standard security dispersal, fan out set your bubble and check your sectors! Trauma Two-One and Two-Two weapons out!" Calling out over the Besh comms channel. Squaring up to the ramp, looking to his left and giving a nod to his sister from a different mister, as the landing gear touched down and whole craft shook and jostled as it settled. As the ramp started to hiss and click he made one last call over the whole squad circuit:

"FIRST IN!..." "LAST OUT!" Came the echo rallying call. As the ramp started to lower he charged out into the blowing sand blasts, matching the front runner of Aurek squad. Once he was about 25 meters out front he stopped and started scanning the section in front of him and about 20° to his right and back to center. The rest of the squad should be forming an arch off to his right at even intervals, like the clock face of an ancient chronograph. "TC-2051 SET!" And once the rest of the squad got into position and called out set, did the assistant squad leader call out to Prejet. "Besh set, bubble secure!" Letting him call up to the Cadrick that his squad was set and ready to move up.

He felt the rumble and dust ping and pelt the back of his armor as the landing craft departed. "Besh! Advance! 720 scans!" This was a call to remind everyone to not only scan the area in front or beside them, but to look up and down as well. Combat did not just take place on the horizontal plane.

After moving forward the call came down to halt. Raising his right hand in a fist Bastra took a knee and stopped where he was, scanning The area and watched as Kit moved up and cleared the deactivated B-1's. With a wave of his right hand the steady advance of Besh continued until they were at the hangar doors. "Set a perimeter, and ready for breach!" Setting himself in the center of the of the doors, which would give him the largest firing arc and allow him to provide covering fire if it was needed to allow the rest to enter and cover the room beyond.

The hangar doors groaned and he let out a long steading breath. As soon as there was a space large enough for him to fit through the Beach Trooper stepped in swinging the multiple barrels from right to left and back again until more troopers followed him in.

"Well," said Cadrick. "Move up! Secure a perimeter and check all that gear! We don't want nor need any surprises waiting for us."

Moving straight ahead and letting the rest of the squad file in and cover down on the bulkheads, he took in the scene, noting how large and well lit the scuttled ship was. "I don't like this..." He muttered under his breath on the Besh command net, really only Prejet would hear him.

Interactions/Mentions: Viper Actual Worthlessplebian archur darth Bronco

 

[Worthlessplebian]

The black-armoured scout took up the E-11, running through a quick examination with his own gauntleted hands, before giving a brusque nod to Flaxon. He bounced the carbine in his hands to feel its weight. Lighter than his extended barrel and composite buttstock E-11s that dangled from his back, he wasn't exactly sure how to feel about that. A weapon with kick is what this pole-proportioned trooper enjoys.

"You know Slim one day you're going to poke through that lowest bidder armor right?"

Allowing himself the faintest of chuckles at the shore trooper's comment, the lieutenant replied. "If that happens, I'll hang up my rifle and buy the farm." He smiled widely beneath the grim mark of his bucket, knowing just how true his combat brother's statements were. If all goes well, upgrading to a higher grade of plastoid construction, or perhaps incorporating durasteel alloys. He already has the reflec coating on it like the Death Troopers. Cocking his head to the side, Prejet extended his arm before giving Slick a thumbs-up.

Skyfire's engimatic voice blared over the shuttle intercom and platoon comms:

"Ten seconds!"

It was then that Cadrick issued their positions —Aurek, left. Besh, right.—The scout trooper acknowledged his assistant's directions, Prejet took up the rear of the formation, shielding both Trauma-Two-One and Two-Two. He lifted two fingers up to his dim visor then pointed it at Aurek. No sniper overwatch on this mission, but the scout trooper couldn't resist old habits. He left out a heavy sigh as the ramp clicked and hissed, before taking a deep breath.

"FIRST IN!" "LAST OUT!" The echo of their rallying cry came like the tattoo of a drum in Prejet's ears. An unconscious grimace appeared as the scout trooper repeated that phrase again, only to himself this time. He sought the silence then, a mantra of the void running through the scout's mind, quieting all discord or thoughts. Once the ramp lowered, Prejet's pacing form was blasted and whipped with the grains of sand. The carbine's barrel scanning their environment, arching off Bastra's right, the scout's focus split off to the vertical as well. Seeing how beaten the ship had been from its decades of rest.

"ST-2611, SET!" Castus called out, taking a position while still vigilant of their surroundings.

The noise of the sandstorm belting him grew irritating fast. He was born on a dustbowl like this. His first sandstorm scared the poodoo out of him, couldn't sleep willingly for a week. Now though? Now he marches with the storm.

"Besh set, bubble secure!" Hearing Crix give the clear, Prejet called to Cadrick through the platoon comm-channel. "Besh, ready to advance."

Castus couldn't help but appreciate the Command Sergeant Major's call-outs, it was like having a comm-unit attached from his mind to an external loudspeaker.

He concurred with Bastra's order; the scout trooper is intimately familiar with the vertical plane's advantages.

Going down on one knee a few paces behind Crix, Prejet waited for Kit to investigate the disabled B-1's carcass—or is it scrapheap?—all the while emerald eyes chanced a glance upon the scratch-riven hull of The Sovereign Will. The way they danced and moved across told him that these were inflicted post-mortem of the ship's engines, a rough end with a rougher impact.

Both squads breached with chilled movements. Prejet took note of the sand-spill coming from the hanger doors, boots crunching as they went deeper into this lit-area. Their file was neat and tidy, Prejet shuddered in his armour, if he had been thinner like in the academy, there'd be a clattering noise.

He heard his sib from another crib mutter under his breath. A voiced displeasure that the scout didn't find surprising. He looked at the semi-disassembled vulture droids, hanging from their ceiling racks like hanged men swinging from a gallow's post, they looked like the bastard love child of a Glider from Corellia and a midget X-wing. "What? You don't like the ominous, lived-in appearance of the place?" He spoke over the Besh channel with a dead, dry whisper. He cut his hand across his bodygloved throat before issuing a command.

"Crix, Sharn, Leto & Velia, check the scrap beneath those dead birds then pick a door." Prejet flicked his hand with two fingers drawn at the scrap pile. "Codary, you're with me, cargo speeders."

Interactions/Mentions: Bronco Grim Wraithe Stjerna Viper Actual archur darth

 

[Bronco]

"Sergeants, Corporals! Form up your fire teams! Weapons out! Standard security dispersal, fan out set your bubble and check your sectors! Trauma Two-One and Two-Two weapons out!"

On the orders of his newly appointed XO, Codary stood and hoisted up his E-11 airborne from the deck. The trooper took a moment to extend and then duck into the weapon's sling. After all, the leading tenant of Imperial aerial combat was don't drop your stuff. A light heave of the shoulders settled the canvas harness atop his right clavicle, after which he stuck a thumb down behind his neck. "Alright, lace me up darlin," he asked of Sharn as he turned his back to him. The specialist would find a singular adjustable buckle tucked up and behind the thrusters of Row's pack. "And be tender about it?" he couldn't help but agitate the already awkward request.

It wasn't long before the fuselage quaked upon touch down, Skyfire wasting zero time with the ramp. Hydraulics squealed and ventilation hissed as their compartment was suddenly swirled with clouds of red dust. Leaning out of line, Codary failed to see little beyond the curtain of earth rushing past before them. His hearing suffered a similar handicap until the final clunk of the ramp left only the sandstorm to deal with. Despite this, even through the clamor of off-boarding, the corporal could hear their mantra.

"FIRST IN!..." "LAST OUT!"

"Lastout..." came his hurried tamer response, as if he was just checking a box. There was an additional "Yaaaay," lasting until the ramp met ground, which also admittedly lacked the gusto of his comrades. Still, moving with the team as always, Codary hustled out of the craft at the quick. Expediently, he knelt down on his position in the line. Blasts of fine grains arced off the tip of his barrel as it traversed the landscape. "4264, Set!" rattled off the trooper's report in turn. The hushed hiss of the sand whipping around his helmet did well to defuse the often tense occasion of insertion. Such a period was often one of, if not the most, important steps of any operation. It didn't matter how quick the deployment was conducted, because for a sliver of time everyone involved was vulnerable. Such a fact was only highlighted as Row felt a rush or wind from behind, followed by the great growl of their shuttle's departure.

Once on the move, a familiar serenity settled over the trooper. His movements were dictated by orders and adopted through repetition. Like the feed of a lathe, his head traversed from left to right as they stepped off from insertion. Row's grip on his carbine remained steady as the weapon became poised and locked at chest height. There was a noticeable break in the team's chatter, the only transmitted sounds left being the rhythmic crunch of sand and clunk of plastoid armor. It was an ambiance the trooper was happy to settle in to despite its interruption rapidly approaching.

Coming upon the deactivated droids, Row's initial response was similar to most. His carbine jumped from chest to shoulder, helmed cheek resting down against the stock as best as could be allowed. As one of the deathtroopers moved up onto the bots, he too took a few steps out to the side of Besh's formation. Codary was anticipating a possible jump, all in an effort to rapidly develop another firing angle if the droids proved to be more active than suggested. Of course the droid's head falling off would defuse such thoughts, as he'd make his way back into the formation, shaking his head with a chuckle. Passing between two armed B1 husks, he took a quick moment to wrench their blasters free. He didn't collect the decrepit weapons, instead opting to leave them in the sand. "Fresh poodoo, get it while it's steaming," he announced continuing through the droid line.

The breach went smoother than most, with zero resistance met throughout entry. In fact the most interesting part of the maneuver, was the fact their client actually contributed in opening the hanger. In truth he didn't know why he was surprised, she wanted what the doors concealed, of course she'd put in an effort to breach them. That being said, he couldn't remember the last time an employer had to the skills too contribute. Hell he couldn't remember one that wanted to. "Huh. She might slice better than you, Sharn," he'd mention from within their stack. Once Iessa had cracked the circuitry they'd file on in.

"I don't like this..."

"What? You don't like the ominous, lived-in appearance of the place?"

"Well the neighbors do seem pretty dull, LT," came Row's own observation, head shooting between the pile of derelict B1s and scrapped vultures. On Prejet's command, Row would head the approach to the speeders. He'd close half the distance at a swift grouch walk, blaster raised and trained on the immediate area of the speeders. However, after so many paces came the pounce. A singular blast from his pack exploded the trooper into an upward arc, a quickly fading trail tailing behind. He'd hardly conducted a short burn, more of a momentary activation of the jets, before he was aiming down into the beds of the speeders. Another blast on his descent ensured a controlled landing on one of the vehicle's hoods, now facing Prejet's approach. The trooper's stance had also shifted, opting to tuck the carbine's stock under his arm for a possibly closer engagement as he swept the vehicle beds once again.

 

[archur]

"You're going to haul out between twenty and forty battle droids? I hope you're not lookin' for any help with that," Row said. Sharn could imagine the smirk on his face as he said that, knowing that Sharn would find some way to jury rig that many droids out.

"I mean, I'm not going to ask you to toss a few over your shoulder, two at a time, just find a big piece of metal, tie a few ropes, and dump a few B1's onto a makeshift sled to cart'em out, that's all. I mean, if we can turn them on and make them walk out on their own, we'd be-"

"Ten seconds!" Skyfire said over the comms.

Like that, Sharn was on his feet. No comments or funny looks either, he was all business. DLT-19 slid from his lap to his hands, then found itself slung over his shoulder as Row indicated a buckle that needed buckling on his back. "Lacin'." He stated as he found himself hurriedly tightening the straps indicated. "And be tender about it?" He grunted, yanking the strap back a little hard before easing the strap's tension properly. "As tender as a gamorrean whore." He patted him on the back twice. "Good to go trooper. Let me know if it's too tight or loose, alright?" He said with a note of authenticity.

Then, the craft touched down. Like a yawning mouth, the ramp lowered and there wasn't much of interest to see in Sharn's eyes. Sand. Red sand. The type of stuff that could honestly be rust, considering the craft they were about to be raiding. Nothing he hadn't seen before. Orders were given as the sand blew into the craft to get into formation in an orderly fashion with their assigned groups. Standard protocol.

"FIRST IN!..." "LAST OUT!"

Not a word escaped from his lips. It wasn't because he didn't have company pride, just the opposite. This was the best thing he could be doing with his life right now. No, he just didn't really feel like yelling. Too much energy expended on his part for a chorus that was loud enough. He was focused, he had a job to do, and he really needed to figure out exactly how he was going to get the droids back into the ship all ready to go like he wanted. Regardless, he hurried to his position, towards the back of the line. "VN-7222, set!" There was a sigh after the fact, an admittance that he'd have to wait only a little longer before the job became fun. Scanning for hostiles, ensuring they had a clear grasp of the situation, all important, but he was here for the loot, and every second he had to wait weighed on him a little more.

The rocks, as it were, happened to be the droids he was looking for. They were in formation, and they were desiccated. His weapon slid back into a relaxed position as the droids were deemed safe, inoperable as they were. That wasn't to say he didn't give one of them a kiss with the butt of his gun, just to show them who's the boss. It was Sharn. He was the boss, or soon to be, if his heist with the robots turned out as he planned.

More waiting as the hangars were being opened. He would've preferred if he were the one doing it since it gave him something to do, but he contented himself with waiting. He watched as the client did the hard work of slicing an old seppie panel, head cocked slightly to the side. Odd, usually they let the professionals do what they hired them to do, but this one didn't. He was wondering which one of his superiors worked their magic on the client, or if the client was just anal about certain things being done right, not wanting to set off alarms or whatnot. Regardless, it meant that the client was doing more than standing around, judging the former imperials.

"Huh. She might slice better than you, Sharn,"

"Yeah." He said blankly. "Girl after my own heart, that." He snorted a little to himself, and the doors finally opened.

"Crix, Sharn, Leto & Velia, check the scrap beneath those dead birds then pick a door." Them was the orders. "Heard." He responded, moving briskly to scan the immediate area for threats. However, he was distracted by the scrapped spacecraft. Vulture droids were always something of an interest to the once-budding pilot, and their shape and make were always intriguing to him.

"You guys think we could rig one of these things to fly or what?" He said semi-sarcastically over Besh's comms, roving over the edges of the perimeter to ensure there weren't any traps laden by a particularly clever tactical droid.

Interactions: Bronco Grim Wraithe Stjerna Viper Actual Worthlessplebian darth

 

[Solar Daddy]

Hailin did her final round of check-ups on her kit as the hustle of the unit began picking up, their landing imminent. Hailin grinned from under her helmet to Crix, responding to his nod with one of her own. They'd been sure to look out for one another for longer than she could remember, and it seemed this mission, even with them on different teams, was no different. Even symbolically, it reminded Hailin that there wasn't just an Empire to uphold, but her fellow soldiers as well. A few seconds later, Kitressi named Hailin as her second-in-command, to which Hailin responded with another nod of her head. Kit and herself were close, and she'd seen Hailin's expertise firsthand. If there ever needed to be one, Hailin always showed her mettle time and time again. By now, the camaraderie was bundled up deep within her and now only the might of the Empire poured into Hailin's veins. Oftentimes Hailin imagined herself as an embodiment of the Empire, and once the helmets were on and blasters were ready, Hailin became that embodiment entirely. Few could match Hail's devotion.

Once the call came from their pilot, Hail stood alongside the other troopers, with the Death Troopers in a unison unlike the rest. Filed perfectly in line for Aurek, the tar-black elite soldiers looked almost robotic in their sudden uniformity. The ramp dropped and Aurek moved with fluidity and determination. Barely any words were shared among the Death Troopers, but their proficiency ensured none was needed as the group effortlessly formed a perfect landing perimeter. Weapon swaying across her line of sight, Hailin stood separated like the rest of the troopers.

Once Besh was out of the ship and the excursion was ready, Hailin formed up alongside the rest of the combined two units and the in-betweens who were unassigned. They approached the downed vessel in silence with Hailin taking up the rear of Aurek.

As the doors to the vessel creaked open, Hailin's focus checked the surroundings of the ship while half of the DT's examined the newly exposed innards of the Sovereign Will. Soon, Iessa, and by extension the Death Troopers, moved forward and into the bay. The elite troopers again made a protective perimeter around Iessa and held the interior of the Sovereign Will. Hailin admired the workings of the Separatist vessel for only a moment, and mostly to familiarize herself with the layout. Besh took lead on securing the hangar, with Aurek devoted entirely to the defense of the client. Still, the DT's fanned out a bit to secure as much as they could while still keeping a close watch over their benefactor. Once again, Hailin positioned herself behind the rest of the DT's and the client to watch the entrance for the time being. "Watching the rear," Hailin's scrambled dialog echoed through the hangar with only her fellow Death Troopers able to understand the short words for what they were. Her E-11D was gripped tightly in her hands, her stance ready for combat at a moment's notice.

 

[Grim Wraithe Stjerna]

The Sovereign Will hangar bay

"What? You don't like the ominous, lived-in appearance of the place?"

With a shake of his helmeted head. "Not particularly." His eyes finding the heap of droids and what looked like hanged men.

"Crix, Sharn, Leto & Velia, check the scrap beneath those dead birds then pick a door."

"Roger, moving." The multiple barrels of his chosen weapon moved and scanned in sync with his eyes and head, as if they were connected by a control arm or some sort of servo. "You three see if there's anything of interest in the pile, them move the to the second hatch on the right." The Shore Trooper would provide cover for the three as they turned their focus from the hangar to the pile of droids.

"You guys think we could rig one of these things to fly or what?"

"Not even the LT can fit in there, why do you want to get it flying?" Raising an eyebrow, hidden by the faceplate, at the continuing quirkiness of the company's 'procurement expert'. Moving in a slow parameter walk around the pile of scrap, his back to it so he could scan the rest of the hangar. His eyes drifted up the hanging Vulture Droids, almost expecting their red eyes to flicker to life. Something about this place was not sitting well with him. He would have preferred there to be some sort of resistance, not this empty silence. If this kept up long enough this is what would lead into the building a false sense of security.

Hearing the echoes of the scrambled voice Crix looked back to the Death Troopers on High Value Target Protection Detail, giving them one more nod before shifting his attention to the cargo speeders and Prejet. If those were operable they could be useful in either collecting and moving loot or in getting a quick departure if things went sideways. "Sharn. Anything good over there?"

Interactions/Mentions: Viper Actual Worthlessplebian archur darth Bronco Solar Daddy

 

[Viper Actual]

The Sovereign Will - Hangar Bay

"Crix, Sharn, Leto & Velia, check the scrap beneath those dead birds then pick a door." Prejet flicked his hand with two fingers drawn at the scrap pile. "Codary, you're with me, cargo speeders."

On Prejet's command, Row would head the approach to the speeders. He'd close half the distance at a swift grouch walk, blaster raised and trained on the immediate area of the speeders.

As Crix, Sharn, Leto and Velia moved the Vultures gently dangling in their ceiling racks Prejet and Codary approached the cargo speeders and the pile of droids with absolute caution. Void of any movement, Row would get a superb overview of the pile as he used his jump-pack to gain some air-time before landing on one of the vehicles.

Rolled: 1

Beyond the fact that the vehicles were empty and powered down there weren't much to find as there were no items or objects anywhere. The droids- all standard-issue B1s- looked to have been picked apart using some sort of tools with all of the pieces in the pile showing varying degrees of damage to them, perhaps from the crash itself as some parts appeared scorched.

If there were anything else of value Prejet and Codary either couldn't see it or there wasn't anything valuable here to begin with.

"You guys think we could rig one of these things to fly or what?" He said semi-sarcastically over Besh's comms, roving over the edges of the perimeter to ensure there weren't any traps laden by a particularly clever tactical droid.

"Sharn. Anything good over there?"

Over at the Vulture droids Sharn- with the help from the others- took a quick glance at both the droids and the myriad of parts beneath...

Rolled: 5

Meticulously organized, perhaps in both size and category, a wide array of components had been laid out across the floor beneath the Vultures. There were batteries, power-couplings, coolant systems, power cells, alloy plating, sensor equipment and even a seemingly intact proton torpedo launcher. Overall, it was good loot.

Not present however was any sort of communications gear, with the Vultures showing signs that someone or something had gone out of their way to open up and tear out anything communications-related out of the droid heads.

Standing near the VIP and the support team, Cadrick nodded towards the two groups of Besh-troopers. "Report, anything of value?"

"Watching the rear," Hailin's scrambled dialog echoed through the hangar with only her fellow Death Troopers able to understand the short words for what they were.

"Roger," replied Racksen. As Besh cleared the hangar Iessa seemed intent on helping out with the identification of the salvage but as she took a step forward Kitressi blocked her off with an arm. "Ma'am," she began. "Let us secure all the doorways before you go start poking at everything."

Iessa didn't seem to agree but nodded, offering the Death Troopers a slightly annoyed expression. Her two bodyguards however seemed fine with hanging back and letting the Imperials do all the hard work with one of the them- the Weequay- lazily standing in place while eyeing Kitressi's rear-end with a smug.

Kitressi was either unaware or she simply ignored the unwanted looks as she maintained a low-ready stance with her weapon ready. She spoke softly over the DT-comms; "Once Besh signals the all-clear we'll move up the Vulture droids and let the client check it out. After that, we head inside. Heard?"

Bronco darth Grim Wraithe Stjerna Kloudy ONI archur Solar Daddy Worthlessplebian

 

[Solar Daddy]

"Once Besh signals the all-clear we'll move up the Vulture droids and let the client check it out. After that, we head inside. Heard?"

"Heard." Hailin's response was short and crisp. Her eyes never once left the outdoor scenery before her in the response, knowing the others of Aurek would be keeping a more intent eye on Iessa. Until they were out of the open in the hangar, Hailin would ensure their position wasn't compromised from the way they came in. Hearing the commotion beforehand regarding Kit and the Client, Hailin had let out a short and barely perceptible chuckle. Imperials knew protocol, Imperials knew order of operations. Dealing with foreigners to their ways always gave the Arko soldier at least a hint of a superiority complex. Iessa could do with learning from their procedures. Who knows whether simply interacting with a droid would cause it to spark to life? Better to let the grunts (herself included, though her mind went to Crix and Prejet,) do the risky work. Especially if Iessa's the one passing the creds once this is over.

For the time being, Hailin's post was lackluster but it was an important job nonetheless. Kitressi and Racksen's jobs probably weren't much more interesting than Hailin's anyway. After all, Kit was on babysitter duty more so than the rest of Aurek, at least for the time being. Hailin's nature was to be a little more rude than Kit was to a client such as Iessa anyway, so it was better her than Hail. Serving non-Imperials directly always gave her a bit of an edge to her voice she couldn't shake. Not to mention she'd already taken notice of how sleazy the Weequay was. Kit had a lot more patience than herself and it showed in her leadership.

The sounds of stressed metal from the hangar settling gave Hailin a bit of pause though. She disliked having... what was it, one million battle droids at her back? Even if they all weren't right there in the hangar with her, it still wasn't a comforting thought. But her stature never wavered. When she wore the armor, Hailin had all the Empire to support her. All the Empire ever was.

Mentions: Viper Actual Grim Wraithe Stjerna Worthlessplebian

 

[Worthlessplebian]

"You guys think we could rig one of these things to fly or what?" "Not even the LT can fit in there, why do you want to get it flying?"

The scout trooper covered Codary as he inspected the vehicle bed of the cargo speeders, eyes and barrel keenly sweeping the premises for signs of hostile activity when Sharn's little comment and the Major's subsequent answer caught his attention. He peaked over his shoulder, finding just as much disappointment as Codary did. Prejet grunted dissatisfaction and shook his hand before returning it to the underbarrel of his loaned E-11. "No knickknacks on our end, looks like they unloaded quickly... Or never got the chance to load at all." Prejet explained over the Besh comms. "As for the birdies," Prejet continued shifting his head towards their hanging corpses. "I don't think Sharn meant he'd want to fly ON them, unless he has certain tendencies that we don't know of. Other than the kleptomania, I mean. Those things can experience Gee's that make a pilot flat in his seat." Prejet mused and teased.


He signaled to Codary with a gesture to return from the cargo-speeder's bed and join him. He moved over to the speeders themselves, inspecting them closely. What he found caused him to whistle, these cargo-haulers were almost-factory new. The instruments inside appear functional as well, though Prejet dared not to touch them. The side-markings told him the maximum weight limit. "At least these things aren't fritzed." He told Codary quietly. "Hey, Sharn, you're in luck, these bad boys are nearly fresh off the assembly-line and still fueled." He called over comms.

Despite the functioning cargo speeders, their little looting came up empty, hopefully the rest of Besh had a better score. Once Besh had secured all the doorways, Prejet leaned against a rusting doorframe and worked his communication unit to the DT's frequency. His head craned up, watching the gathered dust and broken light with its wire-guts payed down. The door was like a gate from another era, he could scarcely believe it if he wasn't aware of the existence of the CIS.

"Once Besh signals the all-clear we'll move up the Vulture droids and let the client check it out. After that, we head inside. Heard?"

"Entrance points, secured. Hanger is cleared. Heard?" He told Aurek squad. His voice had been flat, modulated, and dry. He thinks HVTs, like Iessa, prefer it when their soldiers act more like programmable droids than thinking creatures. Puts their minds at ease when the troopers aren't cracking moribund, crude jokes between themselves. An ominous shadow crept up in the scout's bowels, it was this place, this relic and wreck, the walls of the hanger seemed closer than when they first appeared. Prejet said nothing. He'd always had a paranoid streak about these things, that and the nightmares he frequented. A persistent companion that he simply could not shake, burning his dreams on a pyre to the sound of blaster bolts screaming through the air, stalking him with toothy grins and blood-matted fur. He'd wake up shaking, sweating, reaching for the sidearm he kept by his bunk at times. The worst was when they wouldn't leave, when the images chased him into his waking moments. Prejet bit his cheek and exhaled quietly.

The only solace is that he had Cadrick's Outlaws at his back this time. He had Hailin and Crix with him.

Interactions: archur Bronco
Mentions: Viper Actual Solar Daddy (Hailin and the DT squad), Iessa. Grim Wraithe Stjerna

Spoiler: Roll Transparency

Roll: 7

Upon closer inspection, it would appear that the cargo speeders parked next to the pile of disassembled B1s were in perfect working condition. In fact, they almost looked factory new and a quick glance at their respective instruments showed that both were fully fueled and powered- though currently inert, requiring but a single tap of a button to turn on each vehicle.

Separatist markings on both speeders suggested that they had quite an impressive maximum weight which should most likely be enough to aid in hauling out any larger pieces of loot, such as Vulture droid components and weapons.

by Viper.

 

[Bronco]

Row hopped down from the bed of the vehicle, taking one last moment to direct some light jabs at the scrapped droids surrounding it. The barrel of his blaster tink tinked off their picked chassis as he walked by. As the moment passed, he found himself back on the lieutenant's heels and taking on a much more relaxed pace than their approach. Back naturally set, stepping at the single time, and weapon at a significantly lower ready carry. He seemed to be adjusting to the hanger space the longer they spent snooping, but would have to ensure said adjustment never dipped into absolute comfort.

"At least these things aren't fritzed."

"A miracle considering how they basically fell from orbit." The trooper leaned over the controls for himself. From his position on the opposite side of the speeder, Row gathered roughly the same picture of the vehicle's preparedness. He'd prod around its console while Prejet hopped back on comms. The trooper then took note of the team wide announcement made to Sharn, prompting him to pop his head back up. "Please don't give him ideas, Lieutenant." Of course such advise came too late, as no doubt Sharn's mind was now firing on all cylinders to formulate a plan of utilization for the speeders. Row resigned himself to leaning back down on the controls, gloved hand propping up the side of his helmet as he keyed into the team's frequency. "And it'd behoove us to keep them that way, Specialist."

For the remainder of the clearing, Row found himself sticking with the Lieutenant. He'd pop from low to high ready as the situation called for it, tightening and loosening as if running some dynamic exercise. It wasn't long before the two had covered their cut of the space, arriving to hold at one of the hanger's bulkheads. He fell in on the door just behind Prejet, taking this time to regain an awareness of the situation as a whole. The security detail had yet to move, as planned, and looked rather content with the decision. Even the mercenaries, who would be far easier to read than a DT, appeared jitter free. He did note that the Weequay looked rather preoccupied however. Keep spacing I guess, 'least Pavan and Aquilin'll be entertained. He'd have noted the same attitude for their VIP, if not for the Pantoran's demeaner. There was a more focused tilt to her than her underlings, like a primed system or pointing Massiff.

"Technical as Sharn and tense as LT. We sure she isn't one of ours?" Row transmitted the question to Besh, but mainly directed it to Prejet through a light elbow prod to the back.

Interactions: Worthlessplebian archur Grim Wraithe Stjerna darth
Mentions: Viper Actual

 

[Grim Wraithe Stjerna]

Once the rest of his Fire Team gave him some sort of acknowledgement of either finding or not finding anything of interest or note, the Shore Trooper did a final scan of the hangar bay and motioned with his toward the chosen hatch. "Move out, and see if we need to worry about that hatch." Slapping each one on the shoulder, counting, as they passed. "Last Man. Moving to Hatch." Calling over the com channel for Besh.

Moving at a quick step to keep his position at the rear of the Fire Team, stopping every few meters to turn around do a brief scan of the area directly behind his team. He knew the hangar was empty, save for the dead droids. There had been no signs of movement or life, but the Command Sargent Major was going to set the example and hopefully help keep the rest fall into too comfortable mindset. 'That's when poodoo hits the vents.' He thought as he scanned the dead silent hangar.

"Hey, Sharn, you're in luck, these bad boys are nearly fresh off the assembly-line and still fueled."

"Well Specialist, looks like you're in luck. At least we've got some transpo to help carry loot other then all the B-1's you can carry." A hint of a sarcastic smile could be heard as the older man elbowed his comrade in a rough, but playful manner in the side.

"Area secured, standing by to push." Calling out to Prejet to let him know things were good and that they were ready to start moving deeper into the wreckage and towards their assigned target area.

Interactions/Mentions: Viper Actual Worthlessplebian archur darth Bronco Solar Daddy

 

[Viper Actual]

Horvaan - Upper atmosphere

(Collab with Kloudy ) ​

Edging somewhere between ‘curious amalgamation’ and ‘dangerous scrap-heap’, Dharka’s personal ship was now descending upon Horvaan.

Belayed twice - first by a New Republic patrol and second by a short trip back to the Vigilant Keeper to offload some key ship components - the original plan was for Dharka Vedd and his two companions to rendezvous with Cadrick and the rest of the current away-team at Kat’s, the local cantina.

As luck would have it the first delay had been worth it, as the detour around the patrol had led to some high-value salvage that could be used to repair the flagship of Cadrick’s Outlaws.

Inside the cockpit Rono Dolkes watched the approaching planetary surface with great interest. The former penal trooper hadn’t been too happy about being relegated to Dharka’s service as some of the members of the Outlaws viewed the exiled Mandalorian with great suspicion - something he’d shown openly throughout the past assignment via stern facial expression.

Dharka had chosen to remain mostly silent for the majority of the journey, so the trip had occurred without event.

His other half however - Omed Gharnes - had been much more at ease about the ordeal, even going as far as inquiring on the many functions of Dharka’s droids. The mercenary had started off responding with various tidbits of technical information, but quickly grew tired of the endless questions and eventually fell silent to them.

All in all it hadn’t been the worst of missions, going with the Mandalorian, but he was definitely excited to return to the rest of the company. Seated behind both Dharka and Rono at a third, starboard-facing seat, was Omed. The rather large penal trooper looked almost comical in the standardized cockpit seat as he monitored communications on various frequencies.

He glanced over to Rono and Dharka, eyeing them both with a relaxed expression. “Scope is clear - like always.” Omed chuckled. “I just hope we didn’t miss the party at Kat’s. Either way it’ll be nice with some shore-leave, right Rono?”

Rono grunted, opting to remain silent. He glanced over to Dharka. “I just hope that our unplanned delay didn’t cost us all of the leave planetside. Right, mando?”

“We won’t stay long,” Dharka’s voice came like hollow metal through his face-plated helmet, “We’re 4 parsecs behind schedule; Cadrick is likely with Katresh now. He said there’s a job here.”

The atmosphere warning blinked on the screen the mandalorian was intently staring at, prompting him to flip a few switches to activate the gyroscopes for the atmospheric thrusters. He tapped away at the holo-keyboard and the computer’s autopilot locked onto the city of Emergence. Beyond the cockpit’s window laid a horizon of vast red swathes of land cut sharply against the cool blue of Horvaan’s ocean. Rising steel and sandstone structures jutted in small clumps by a rocky outcrop, free from traffic cluttering the skies.

As he looked out upon the crimson wastelands, Dharka felt a sense of icy dread for the briefest of moments - flashes of a desolated Mandalore appearing in his mind - but the feeling quickly subsided.

“She looks just like the way we left her,” muttered Rono.

Omed grunted in response. “I’d be surprised if she didn’t. Hell, I’d be real worried too considering just how few people know how to navigate to Horvaan in the first place.”

Rono offered his own grunt in return before looking over to Dharka. “What do you think the new job is?”

Far away in the distance Emergence drew closer, though both sensors and eyes alike would be able to detect that there were no ex-Imperial dropships waiting at the already sparsely populated landing pad on the city limits.

“Did we miss them?” Asked Rono aloud, eyebrows raised.

Dharka frowned behind his visor, "They should still be here. Check the comms."

“On it,” replied Omed, turning towards the monitor in front of his seat. “Exile to Outlaw Actual, broadcasting in the blind. Requesting grid, over?”

For a moment, once the transmission had been sent, there was nothing but silence on the comms. However, after a short moment, there were faint static followed by a female voice;

“Skyfire to Exile, I read you five by five. Transmitting updated insertion coordinates as well as guided route. Land and disembark on approach, the L-T will take it from there.”

Omed glanced at Dharka and Rono while nodding; “Copy Skyfire, coordinates received. See you soon, Exile out.”

True enough the console at the front of the cockpit would both chime and reveal a new set of coordinates and a specific route on how to reach them. Calculating the approach, Dharka’s flight computer showed the approach vector as a relatively close to the ground flight masked by a raging sandstorm.

At the end of the simulated flight path laid a large, unnatural, shape jutting out of the Plainlands. Even with the grainy and somewhat inconsistent rendering it was clear that the final destination was a ship - and a rather large one at that.

“I don’t recognize that one,” said Rono. “Do you?”

Dharka shook his head, “Horvaan has history dating back to the old Republic. During the Clone Wars ownership switched. Could be either of theirs.”

He tapped ‘Accept’ on the console and a low hum from the thrusters reverberated through the hull as the ship began following the flight path. A rattling hail came when the sandstorm loomed before the cockpit view, the ship descending to a lower altitude of rouge murkiness, “Taking us in…”

“Great,” replied Rono with a clear tone of sarcasm.

Omed however simply shrugged. “I’d rather blast some old clankers than a bunch of New Republic Rangers.”

Once Dharka accepted the suggested path the ship came to descend into the oncoming sandstorm relatively fast. Despite nil visibility outside the cockpit, the co-pilot instruments showed a clear and somewhat detailed scan of their surroundings to compensate.

Thankfully there wasn't much in the way of hidden dangers - such as concealed cliffs or mountains - as the Plainlands were notoriously flat and relatively even, save for the odd craters here and there.

Soon enough the ship came near its final destination, and as it did it also passed by both of the other two shuttles currently lingering near the eye of the storm itself.

After passing them by, a looming shadow ahead signified the arrival at their final destination:

The Sovereign Will.

Rono and Omed were quick to don their helmets with the former giving Dharka a quick nod. “Have the ship regroup at the shuttles as soon as we step off, I figure there’s a reason why they’re hanging back.”

The airlock opened and the mercenary nodded back wordlessly as he stepped off the ship’s landing ramp. From further into the ship came two service droids built by Dharka himself. They jogged up to the ramp and similarly stepped off with short hops to the ground.

As soon as both troopers had also disembarked, Dharka pressed a few buttons on the holopad attached to his wrist and the ship took off again. Low vibrations from the engines thrummed as its landing gear folded back into the hull and it pulled away to regroup with the shuttles.

“Let’s avoid using open channels; we don’t know who else is here yet.” Dharka warned his company, approaching the entrance with a searching gaze for anything trap-like. Reaching a door interface, he immediately pried the panel off and set to work, “I’ll see if I can access any leftover systems that haven’t been scrapped.”

Staying close to the Mandalorina, Rono and Omed both took up positions on either side of him, standing at a low-ready. The former of the troopers flipped down his helmet visor, chuckled and nudged both Omed and Dharka. "Don't think you need to do any slicing, mando. Looks like the door's open."

The trooper then gestured towards the hangar doors besides them, which had been opened slightly. Thermals revealed several familiar figures inside...

"Hey-ho, Outlaws!" Yelled Omed.

The Sovereign Will - Hangar Bay

Upon hearing one of many pass-phrases used by the Outlaws, Cadrick turned around slightly to face the hangar doors. Once Dharka- accompanied by troopers Dolkes and Gharnes- appeared he visibly relaxed, giving all three a nod. "How nice of you to join us, troopers." He glanced towards Dharka, bowing his head slightly. "Dharka. I trust my troopers behaved?"

Racksen and Kitressi offered the two penal troopers a quick glance and a nod with Kit chuckling slightly. "Late as always, boys."

Both penal troopers detached from Dharka and took up positions on either side of the support team. "Yeah yeah, Kitressi," muttered Dolkes. "We had to take a quick detour, Rangers on our ass."

"Yeah?" Asked Racksen. He quietly switched to the DT-comms. "I sure hope they didn't bring any of those Rangers with them. Might complicate this mission a little."

"I wouldn't worry your pretty little head too much about that, Racksen. They know what they're doing, so does Vedd," replied Kitressi, appearing completely silent to anyone not looped in on the comms.

"Entrance points, secured. Hanger is cleared. Heard?"

"Area secured, standing by to push."

Once Besh had finished conducting their sweep of the hangar and signaled the all-clear Cadrick's attention shifted from Dharka and the late-arrivals to the team spread out throughout the hangar. He gestured towards Castus and his team. "Besh, form up on that bulkhead. Take Vedd with you."

He then looked towards the client and her small retinue. "Miss Dhavo, you're cleared to move up on the second bulkhead with Aurek for support." Cadrick then glanced at Omed and Rono. "Dolkes and Gharnes, go with Besh as well."

"What about us, sir?" Asked Faxon.

"Give me a perimeter, two men on each door and two with me. I reckon the shuttles will fit relatively well in spite of all the clutter," responded Cadrick. Faxon nodded and relayed the orders to his men as Iessa practically marched to one of the bulkheads to the right.

With decisive steps the Pantoran seemed intent to be first through the door- a plan which was soon foiled by none other than Kitressi. The senior Death Trooper motioned for Racksen and Hailin to take point with a quick nod before turning towards Miss Dhavo. "Ma'am, I respect your enthusiasm but let us take point. Even if all of the droids are gone there could be bandits or hostile wildlife inside- not to mention damage to the interior hallways."

Iessa remained silent at first, seemingly staring at the black visor in front of her, whereas her Weequay bodyguard looked annoyed, perhaps because he was relegated to rear-echelon duty by the Death Troopers. His Quarren associate however looked more than happy to remain at the rear, glancing nervously around him.

"Fine," said Iessa after a while. But only because I have to.

"Thank you," replied Kitressi. She nodded towards Hailin and Racksen. "Clear the hole!"

Not far away from Aurek's bulkhead Besh was prepared to breach one of their own. As Dolkes, Gharnes and Vedd joined them- bolstering their already sizable numbers with three more- the squad opened up the doors and headed inside.

*​

The Sovereign Will - Fireteam Besh, approaching crew quarters

So far Besh had spent some thirty or forty minutes navigating through a maze of corridors, service hallways and a series of storage rooms with the latter being void of anything but dust and creaking metal. Thankfully damage seemed to be minimum in this part of the ship, as demonstrated by the rare and far apart panels knocked loose, malfunctioning lights or slightly bent and buckled flooring.

Minor damage aside the ship appeared to be in working condition, albeit filled with an eerie silence. There were no footsteps, idle chatter or announcements made over the PA. Just silence broken momentarily by the crying of aging metal and the hull left to succumb to its own weight in Horvaan's gravity.

"This is giving me the creeps," muttered Dolkes as he opened another door, made sure it was clear and shut it close.

Up ahead the medium sized corridor which Besh was currently traversing split off into a T-section. Signage on the walls read "Crew Quarters, left. Armory, right."

"Well," said Gharnes, looking up and towards Castus. "Orders?"

Bronco darth Grim Wraithe Stjerna Kloudy archur Worthlessplebian

The Sovereign Will - Fireteam Aurek, approaching starboard gundecks

Much like Besh, Fireteam Aurek had spent the better half of an hour slowly creeping through their chosen path of the ship. What had initially appeared to be a direct route to the central data core and, after that, the bridge itself, had proven to be a messy and dangerous path ripe with malfunctioning bulkhead doors sealed shut, damaged corridors which had twisted beyond recognition and maintenance hallways filled with radioactive fire suppression liquid.

After using breaching charges on three of the sealed bulkhead doors- with the third door leading into a seemingly bottomless pit of unknown height- Kitressi had ordered the squad to play it safe, much to Iessa frustration.

Now, after reaching yet another dead-end, the squad had doubled-back to a Y-section. With one of the possible routes blocked off they would be forced to advance down the other- or risk turning around and heading back to the hangar from which they started.

Metal creaked and whined all around them as they advanced down this unexplored route with the Death Troopers taking point, Iessa staying in the center and her two bodyguards watching the rear. Up ahead appeared a seemingly functioning door labeled "Starboard Gundeck - Section Cresh".

"What do you think, Sergeant?" Asked Racksen, glancing towards Kit and Hail.

"Let's not hope too much. She's in pretty bad shape," responded Kit, shrugging slightly as she did. She turned towards Hailin. "Arko, open it."

Solar Daddy

 

[Bronco]

So far Besh had spent some thirty or forty minutes navigating through a maze of corridors, service hallways and a series of storage rooms

The team made its way along, staggered column style, as they tried their hands at clearing what remained of the cruiser. Many a hatch was either seized shut from years of deterioration or blasted ajar from the impact of planetfall. In Row's mind, it made the whole process surprisingly simple. However there was also now the added sketchy factor they'd all have to take into account. For one, the deck itself had become a hazard. Panels of flooring teetered when stepped on, sheered cracks tree branched across their path, and every few blast doors they'd pass a hole punching multiple decks down. The bulkheads weren't in any better shape, bending and buckling under the equally derelict stack of decks above. The singular upside the wreck provided was its age, superficial power had long since sputtered out, leaving the tattered wiring quite cold and free of sparks.

"So?" He'd address Gharnes as they continued to work the passage, "How was the field trip?" The trooper then opened the conversation to Dolkes as well, who also happened to be close in their ever shifting order. "You were flying high I bet."

Whether or not the conversation went anywhere, it would soon be interrupted by an intersection. It wasn't the first they'd come across, however it was the first that actually allowed access down both corridors. This section of the ship must have held up better, Row hoped to himself.

"Well," said Gharnes, looking up and towards Castus. "Orders?"

"Armory..." the trooper repeated in thought. "Screams ammunition. That's been dropped from orbit," there was another pause as he turned and looked down their line. It wasn't long before he found the loot specialist and extended a pointed hand. "Let's send Sharn, LT. Then follow him up with Doc Trauma.... at a distance probably." He of course would be referring to Corporal Pavan, who was also present and perhaps about to get his first patient of the outing.

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[Worthlessplebian]

The rusted bowels of the starship were silent. Team Besh moved through it, their steps felt as though they were faint whispers echoing through half-lit corridors, the feeling was almost familiar; the scraping of boots, plastoid meeting duralloy. The black lense of Prejet's helmet gleamed lifelessly in the ship's flickering illumination, his eyes narrow scanning each inch of this place. The state of the hallways were in varying degrees of disuse — floors littered with unidentifiable metallic and fibrous clutter; loose panels, payed wires hanging impotently, cold to foot-sized cavities, the floor buckled. Sweat pooled at his forehead, the Lieutenant working hard to mask his quivering nerves during their long task, but the minutes seemed longer, stretched further by the continual focus. The metal's groaning was loud in Prejet's ear. Narrowly missing Dolkes' muttering. The Scout Trooper wordlessly agreed to the man's observation, more used to the gut-wrenching judder of a speeder bike or the chaotic, screeching noises of combat. The silence was not what unnerved him, he was well-acquainted with it during extensive reconnaissance missions, staring out the macro-binocular viewplate of his helmet, backlit by the soft glow of moons and stars. This place felt anathema to him — choking tightness, the sterile stench that seemed at odds with the rust-encrusted debris, and the hard floors underfoot.

Gharnes spoke, his voice echoing weirdly off the jagged walls. The question brought up him short, the Lieutenant inclining his head above his rifle's sights, looking at both sides of the intersection. "Armory first, then Crew Quarts." Prejet ordered.

He heard Row's suggestion, not looking back at him, gesturing to Sharn, Crix, and Gharnes to stack up on the sealed door, the rest would cover the crew quarters and the corridor they just left. He looked over his shoulder at the jet-trooper. "Perhaps, you'd like to join them?" He asked him, half-teasing. Despite the morose, inscrutable scout helmet, Prejet couldn't hide the ghost of a smile that stretched his thin lips.


Interactions: Bronco Viper Actual archur Grim Wraithe Stjerna

 

[Solar Daddy]

Hailin knew what they were doing at the Sovereign Will was important, without a doubt, but she was also far from pleased with the current state of her team. Far too much time scouting deserted, shoddy hallways that threatened to give out below them at any moment. She needed to keep close attention to not just corners and doorways, but the very placement of her boots. Missing by the slightest distance might mean getting her leg trapped in a mess of wires and jagged metal. And yet, not much happened outside of that. Hailin was ready to take on challenges that didn't involve solving a maze of corridors. Too many variables remained unknown for her to be comfortable with the amount of backtracking and compromising on their path.

Finally, they reached the Starboard Gundeck, which would at least break up the monotonous stark CIS hallways. Kit ordered Arko to open the door, which the DT happily obliged. She closed the distance to the metal latch and, with one hand, released the lock and manually pulled open the door. She wouldn't admit there was some difficulty, but she gave herself some slack. This door hadn't been opened in decades, a little struggle made sense. But she'd be damned if she gave Racksen any more fodder for jokes. She tried her best to make it look effortless.

Her other hand clutched the handle of her E-11D, and once the door was open enough to slip through, she once again readied her weapon in her hands. Once she knew her squad members were ready, Hailin peered inside the now open door. She was eager to lay eyes on more of the ship's interior. After all, if this didn't pan out, they'd have to backtrack to the hangar and start their trek to the data core all over again.

"Looks clear, no contacts," Hailin's voice perfectly radioed to her team, but the garbled encoder of her helmet echoed through the next hall like remnants of a ghost.

 

[archur]

Time spent walking for Sharn was time spent scheming in his head. He hated, hated walking idly somewhere while anticipating an ambush. Yes, most of the tech was shut down, but he would rather be paranoid and prepared than relaxed and dead. After all, the specialist was crazy enough to be considered such for a good reason, adrenaline junkies and skilled operators often weren't in the same company, nonetheless the same person, but so was Cadrick's little band of misfits. The sound of Besh's boots clomping down the halls was one of the few things keeping Sharn sane, and importantly not bored. His fingers however, found their own way to occupy themselves.

And so it was. The group walking for 34 agonizing minutes through a maze of corridors. He couldn't help but play with his gun as they walked.

Click. Safety on. Click. Safety off. Click. Safety on. Click. Safety off. Click. Safety on. Click. Safety-

The group suddenly came to a stop and Sharn was forced to come back to reality. He snapped to attention, his trigger finger tight, nearly a quarter press on the trigger.

Click. Safety on.

Discipline always came at least a close third on his list of priorities as a soldier. His ears perked up as Gharnes requested orders from Prejet. He looked up at the T-junction up ahead. Crew quarters on the right, armory on the left. He could practically taste the credits as the armory was suggested first.

"Let's send Sharn, LT. Then follow him up with Doc Trauma.... at a distance probably."

"Oh, ha-ha. This heap of junk has been sitting here for years. I'm sure the armory hasn't been rigged to blow by some stupid droids looking to stop guys like us." He sniffed a little, thought about what he just said, lifting his chin to the ceiling. "Probably."

"Armory first, then Crew Quarts."

He shrugged as if removing a weight from his shoulders, then moved to get into position. "Stacking up." The trooper instinctively reached for breaching charges, as procedure usually dictated, but thought twice about it. His helmet met Prejet's as he waited for the order.

Bronco Grim Wraithe Stjerna Worthlessplebian Viper Actual

 

[Worthlessplebian]

He shrugged as if removing a weight from his shoulders, then moved to get into position. "Stacking up." The trooper instinctively reached for breaching charges, as procedure usually dictated, but thought twice about it. His helmet met Prejet's as he waited for the order.

The corridor of corroded metal clamped cleanly around squad Besh, almost molding them into a cluster of plastoid slabs and blasters. He bunched up his shoulders, lowering his profile as he moved to cover the living quarters' double doors. Rifle shouldered, aimed squarely down the crew quarters' hall. He signaled Codary to cover them their rear, black gauntlet cutting through the stale, dust-filled air of the marooned ship.

His helm shifted, black visor glittering in the half-lit hall. Visors met with Sharn's, acknowledging the specialist's wordless question. He shook his head. "No charges. Not yet." Castus spoke, dry voice heavy with an unspoken burden over Besh's communication channel. A part of him resented his ranking among Cadrick's mercenary troupe, unhappy with how often the onus of authority fell on him, an almost-crushing weight. He found himself now forced to suppress that feeling for the mission, doing so gladly.

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[Bronco]

"Oh, ha-ha. This heap of junk has been sitting here for years. I'm sure the armory hasn't been rigged to blow by some stupid droids looking to stop guys like us." He sniffed a little, thought about what he just said, lifting his chin to the ceiling. "Probably."

"Yeah well, just let me get my distance before you go figuring that out."

Codary watched as Lieutenant Castus motioned for him to cover the rear, dipping his blaster and turning to comply. As he took a few steps back down the hall, he thought over the officer's offer to join the stack. "What, and risk my pension?" came his response, chin jovially flicking the verbal volley back to Prejet. It wasn't long before he was also kneeling down at the very rear of the line, setting himself well out of site from the the views of both doors once opened. From here he'd balance his attention between the stretching expanse of the corridor and the situation directly to his rear, throwing a glance back over his shoulder as the entry team set themselves up.

"No charges. Not yet."

The lieutenant's tone was not lost on Codary. It was steady, as any officer's should be, but far from arrogant. In many ways this attitude of concern fostered the best approach to most actions, so long as they didn't lose the lieutenant to his thoughts. Unfortunately, this corporal had also seen a number of superiors spiral down that very same pitfall. Neither the right or wrong decision was made, they just simply didn't make a call. This wasn't to say he felt Prejet was on the verge of freezing up, but absolutely any hint towards that possibility was something that had grown to tug at the trooper's mind.

He tried to get the lieutenant's attention, discreetly waving his hand under the barrel of his blaster. If Prejet were to turn to Codary, he'd find the corporal moving that same hand over his head, closing it into a fist, and gently knocking down on his helmet. Both aerial and sub-surface units often used such a sign to either indicate or ask "Okay?". Codary felt the same motion was better than hopping on comms and asking the same question directly.

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