Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 21, 2018 8:49:17 GMT -8
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Galdaart Fel
Retired High Councilor
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 20, 2018 17:55:12 GMT -8
Post up.
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Galdaart Fel
Retired High Councilor
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Affiliation: The Unfair Advantage
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 20, 2018 17:43:15 GMT -8
"Unfortunately my expertise doesn't include fleet tactics... you need some input on ground, I'm your guy, but ships are another animal entirely. I'm even a piss poor pilot. And truth be told I've been drinking for a few days. So with that being said take this with a grain of salt, there's a lot of chance at play here, which is fine, I like a good fight, but... and, maybe I'm misunderstanding the plan here, but, seems to me like we can get our own boarding party on their command ship and take it from within. Why fire on them from a ship that's out of fuel? Why draw them here at all if that's all we were going to do? I mean we're taking their ship correct? That was the plan right? That's what you meant by switcheroo?"
Fel listened intently as the man laid it all out chuckling as he mentioned a few days' worth of bender. After he'd said his piece, the older man exhaled, and nodded at what had been said as the room cleared of personnel, he shrugged his head toward the fore access ladder, which was the quickest route to deck one and the bridge, as if to say 'let's walk & talk.' You're giving me too much credit, Tyler. I have no interest in committing suicide, or mounting an offensive against a First Order cruiser -- one and the same, really. No, we're after their boarding craft. I'd love to think we'd merely encounter a bulk cruiser out here, but in the deep black, I'm afraid it'll be a light cruiser, an assault ship, or if we're really unlucky, a carrier or SD. he arrived at the vertical forward ladder and started up, Tyler following behind Unless things have changed substantially in the years since I've been away from the military pause and -- I have to confess, it's been quite awhile -- at some point in this business, the gig will be up. The FO parent vessel will realize something has gone awry in this little operation, and at that point, if we're very unlucky, we may have to defend ourselves from here, aboard the Blasphemy. That's the only reason to fire. That or we acquire a ship without hyperdrive, and need to 'trade up.' However, having the option or the illusion of being able to fire, has its other uses, potentially. he arrives at deck one, pausing outside the flight deck doors Standard Imperial practice upon discovery of a derelict with intent to board was for the parent vessel to stand off, and send a crew aboard. Security, Engineering, Medical. Since I am known to be aboard this particular vessel, I would imagine quite a detail of troops for capture and detainment, or, hell -- S&D. opening the bridge doors manually (hydraulics in this portion of the ship are functioning at a minimal level) Fel enters, crossing to the Navacomp station We'll be looking at direct encounter with a TIE/br, Assault Shuttle or Scimitar, Katarn-class, or if we're really unlucky, a Sabretooth, and a compliment of anywhere from 25 to 75 troops. But only if we kark it all up.
Checking his chron, and confirming his calculation by double-checking a readout on the navacomp, Fel holds up an index finger for a moment to say 'jus' a sec...' and opens the internal comms Hold on, folks, we're dropping out of hyperspace in 5,4,3,2...
The blue, swirling mass of hyperspace gives way to the deep black of space, this particular portion nearly devoid of starlight. 100,000 meters to starboard, a small asteroid field pulsed, roiling and twisting in space... maybe the result of a collision of two planetoids, eons before. Maybe something more recent, judging from the jagged, sharp forms. To port, maybe five minutes hard burn away, a small, rocky planetoid, dark and mysterious. So. This is the playing field. Now we just need the players.
Fel turned as Ami-Lee entered the flight deck, and silenced the 'fuel level critical' reminder that repeated in a nauseatingly calm, pleasant voice. Addressing the assembled duo before him, as much out of his own interest as anything particularly tactical, Fel asks So -- who's coming to find us? Who do you think we're going to be facing? War-monger? Inexperienced officer? By-the-book career-minded flight officer? If there's an unknown bit of this scheme that worries me, it's not the kind of ship, or the location of the stand we're making... it's who the opposition leader is.
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Galdaart Fel
Retired High Councilor
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 20, 2018 16:57:52 GMT -8
well... just put up a post in reply to Ty, setting the stage for what's to come... and promptly lost it all. "Reply to" was acting strangely, and the formatting was odd, but I didn't think too much of it. Lost everything when I submitted. Beware if you use the 'quote' function.
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Galdaart Fel
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Affiliation: The Unfair Advantage
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 11, 2018 17:19:19 GMT -8
Pearly
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 11, 2018 17:13:30 GMT -8
Post up. Gizka-brained? Nope.
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 11, 2018 17:04:38 GMT -8
"I don't think the captain here intends on being inside the ship with the enemy arrives." Thank the Maker. One of them had more'n a few watts worth of lightbulb up top. He hadn't done the very best job of laying it all out on the line, but who hadn't heard of the ole' switcheroo? Wasn't it about the oldest grift in the 'verse? I mean, this one had some subtleties, sure, and a bit of risk, yeah... OK, maybe he hadn't explained so well. Make it plain, Fel. Make it easy enough that an Astro with a dead photoreceptor could follow it. You. to Erik You got enough tricks in your kit-bag that you can make it seem as if we burned out our drive core, or that our reactor's fritzing? Gonna need to make it look convincing if the FO is gonna buy into this. I laid the groundwork: we're out of gas. But they're gonna scan us. ...I would. They need to see that this ship is fubar'd. Gotta be something that's obvious, something that's easily scanned, and something that's easily, and quickly reversible. You. to Ami-Lee See about getting ready to dump our atmo, and fire off all of the lifeboats and pods. Leave the nose docking ring pressurized, though. And then see if you can make it look convincing enough that there was a reactor breach in engineering, spiking our rad levels. You three. to Ty, Melia and Ellie There are ten suits in the amidships docking ring. Secure what we need of them in the nose airlock. Then double-check all your gear. It's likely we're going to be exchanging fire with stormies in a zero-gee environment. You. to Nate Brush up on your FO craft specs. I might need you to fly one of the craft, and it'll be short notice what it is, and how much time we have to get it underway. You. to Damron You boasted fifteen seconds. Fifteen. he steps toward the man, slowly, noting the twitching fingers We start this little caper outside, clinging like flies to a windscreen as the FO scans our stricken ship. They'll want to know there's nobody aboard. So we're not going to be aboard. I'm banking on two things. One -- that it's a junior officer in charge. It's less than likely they'll send a flag officer to investigate my claim, that Galdaart Fel has been spotted and is aboard a CR70 that's out of fuel somewhere in this quadrant. It's a wild goose chase. Two -- that they send a small patrol / escort flotilla. No capital ships, 'less the core gets wind of this in a hurry. So. We're freezing to death outside the Blasphemy, and when they send their boarding craft to dock with the empty ship, and they will -- because they're good little soldiers, and they follow protocol... we crawl over their craft and enter via an airlock, which you'll bypass in fifteen seconds, right? Because your timing and ability might mean the difference between death and glory, 'Tank.' He looks pointedly at the man, before turning back to his place against the wall, leaning against it once more -- this time, he is the epicentre of calm, the very figure of control. So, we pull the switcheroo. Their Stormies are aboard our ship. We enter and secure their boarding craft. Then we follow and eliminate the threat inside the Blasphemy. Lastly, we turn the tables, powering this beast up, and reminding those sons of bitches why Corellian craft should never be underestimated. We need to get the dorsal and ventral turbolasers active. That way, when we power up, the greenhorn in charge will hopefully shit his pants enough that we gain the upper hand. But I'm pretty new to fleet tactics. Any thoughts? Oh -- and as if I needed to say it. Lock and load. I figure if we're lucky, we have about two hours to get this done.
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Galdaart Fel
Retired High Councilor
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Posts: 1,565
Affiliation: The Unfair Advantage
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 11, 2018 4:39:41 GMT -8
Post up -- little more of a sketch than I wanted, but I was out of time, and wanted to get something up so you all could chime in.
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 11, 2018 4:32:09 GMT -8
Melia walked into the briefing room, and found a corner not already occupied, smiling (or was that wincing?) at Ami-Lee when she nodded a greeting, and glancing at the others assembled. She wasn't much for talking, and these were unknowns to her. At least she knew Ellie and Ami-Lee could be trusted enough to survive the Kessel rescue. That was something. In any case, she was as interested as any of 'em to find out what the sithspit Fel was planning.
And then he entered the room. Not exactly full of swagger. More like, realizing you're under-dressed while wearing the loudest Hawaiian shirt in a room full of black tie formal-wear. He considered moving to the centre of the room, to address everyone, but instead picked a spot along the wall, much like the rest had. The man looked vaguely uncomfortable, which wasn't exactly surprising, considering he had spent years flying solo, was a loner at heart, and this was the biggest assembly of sentients he'd had to speak to in a very long time. Swallowing his reservations, he spoke plainly, as if discussing a HoloNet show or a recently-enjoyed meal.
So, we're in hyperspace. And, aside from plotting a 'safe' course -- we're not going to fly through a planetoid -- I actually have no idea where we're headed. Because it doesn't matter. he checked his chron In a little under twenty minutes, we're going to run out of fuel. he glanced at the assembled faces, some of which were registering shock, some stoic I've programmed the Navacomp to drop us out of hyperspace to leave us enough fuel for a few maneuvering thrusters, and that's it. Couple of you heard me mention we're going to sell this ship, get a new ship, and keep this ship -- all in the same breath. pause I'm going to turn myself in. FO is looking for me, and their predecessors, too. They've got a bit of a hardon for me and the things I've done. I sent a transmission posing as Umgul orbital security, tagging this vessel, before we left. I assume when we arrive at our mystery destination, it won't be long before we have a few guests. I would imagine a small escort battle group. again scanning the faces -- there has been no good news in Fel's speech so far, and some faces are looking pale So, we power down, dead in the water. All major systems shut down. Vent life support. A little simple engine sabotage -- reversible, of course. Anything they can scan on arrival and show that we can't possibly survive aboard this vessel. he shrugs And then we pull a little switcheroo. Simple.
The fact that he had left out all manner of vital information was lost on the Captain. In his head, he'd laid it all out to a Tee. There would be questions, of the 'what the kriff?!' variety. But Fel was ready to answer them all. It was, in fact, a good plan. Highly risky, and more than a bit of a longshot, but for a Galdaart Fel-hatched plan, it was actually a really good one.
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Galdaart Fel
Retired High Councilor
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Affiliation: The Unfair Advantage
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 9, 2018 15:48:10 GMT -8
I was going to barbecue. But my downstairs neighbor's BBQ is fubar'd. regulator is shot. ...so my girlfriend is bringing her Foreman grill over.
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 8, 2018 15:57:28 GMT -8
Yeah, I hate it...
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 8, 2018 15:55:16 GMT -8
Going to start working on a post... but i’m on my phone, so formatting will be touch and go. Might take me a long time to actually get a post up tonight. Single-finger typing on my iPhone...
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 7, 2018 15:10:32 GMT -8
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 7, 2018 15:10:01 GMT -8
[ Flight Deck | CR70 Corellian Corvette, Blasphemy ]
Fel sat back against the pilot's seat, as was his way after any successful jump. (It remained to be seen just how successful this was...) and turned to look at Melia a moment, who still stood near the tactical station, arms crossed protectively over her chest, one eyebrow raised. I think they're ok, Mel. Honest. Sure, pack a-trouble, but what crew ain't? I don't think any of 'em wants us dead. You think? The former soldier furrowed her brow, and Fel could tell she was looking -- HARD -- for any reason to not trust. Not immediately finding any, she shrugged. Fel's arms flew up in the air, fists clenched tight. Victory! (or as close to acquiescence as one can get with Mel Tervho) Ha! ...I told you! So you're not fixin' to kill any of 'em? the eyebrows narrow, more to tell the spacer where to go, than actually work at deciding anything life-threatening Good. Good. He busies himself with the in-flight checklst for a few moments. Melia waits, knowing he'll unzip soon enough. It was his way. Gonna tell 'em, Mel. Gonna lay it out for them. They deserve to know. Mebbe not Malora, the UA, all of it... but where we're goin', how we're doin' what we're doin'... Why shouldn't they know?
Mel thinks again for a few moments. There were lots of reasons, but none she could think of that superseded keeping a group of people about to head into danger, informed of their options. It's what she'd want. She shrugged again, and Fel smiled. Glad we're on the same page, partner. flipping on the internal comms B-Deck, Officer's Briefing Room, in five, people.
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 7, 2018 14:53:43 GMT -8
She's a ram, sir. At least this is how I'd rig a ship if I intended to slam her into something bigger. ...close, crewman. Close. And under the circumstances, without knowing the particulars of the mission, there's no way Fel could say the reply was 'wrong.' Hellfire -- fact was, she'd make a helluva good battering ram. 'cept that whole bridge-in-the-front-end thing. Trivial. Fel listened as Erik laid out what he saw, what the ship told him. You see a lot, Erik. pointing aft Engines are thataway, I think. Get acquainted, when you've got a tic...
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 5, 2018 16:01:09 GMT -8
I will likely post tonight.
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 4, 2018 16:53:26 GMT -8
Post up.
Next post... well, pick a hyperspace thread.
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 4, 2018 16:52:46 GMT -8
[ Flight Deck | CR70 Corellian Corvette, Blasphemy | Docking Bay | Umgul Spaceport | Umgul City ]
Fel tapped one of the External CCTV monitors, which showed several of Umgul's finest, entering the landing pad. He tapped the screen, as if flicking ticks off a dog's back, and checked his chron. It was a touch earlier than the thirty minutes he had promised, but it seemed as though it was time to go. Repulsors would typically have been the way to go, and Fel activated those, dogging exterior hatches remotely, but also fired up the descent-control thrusters, which would keep most any sane sentient away from the ship, lest they needed a real good tanning. It was a rockier takeoff than was normal for a ship of this size, and were it not for the recent mods to the superstructure, Fel would've bet Credits to Tokens that he'd done the ship a disservice. As it was though, he was pretty sure a 'vette had never lifted off quite so quick. All aboard... he said, conversationally. If someone had decided they wasn't goin' their way -- too damn late. Fel fed power to the main engines, and the ship moved off, breaking more than a few local speed and noise bylaws. Just enough to keep 'em awake. Angling for orbit, Fel contented himself with the functions of piloting, which Ami-Lee read off statuses and systems readouts. The door opened once more, and Melia entered, bracing herself against the mild turbulence.
--the hell, Fel? Where we goin'?
Everybody wants to know... he shook his head as they crossed into the Black, and began to lock in the hyperdrive. Amy, m'dear... with any luck... he locked in the navacomp the Mark will be far from here. As for who -- you'd think I was crazy if I told you. Once we're in hyperspace, we'll assemble, and discuss. Fair?
He flipped the necessary switches, as if to punctuate the end of the sentence, and the 'Blasphemy' disappeared into the stars.
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 4, 2018 16:11:39 GMT -8
[ On the way to the Flight Deck | CR70 Corellian Corvette, The Blasphemy | Docking Bay | Umgul Spaceport | Umgul City ]
Give me fifteen, and we can go for drinks. Give me a couple minutes and I'll have that whole network eating out of my hand. And if things do get scrapy, I'm not afraid to get dirty.
Galdaart had already begun moving, Damron calling after him as he moved off to one of the interior ladders (the lifts had been removed with the ship's "refit.") He called back over his shoulder as he began to climb, I'll keep that in mind. You better hope your boasts are in line with your abilities, 'Tank.' Reaching Deck Two, he walked to the fore ladder-well, which would bring him up directly aft of the flight deck, and began to ascend once more. Ami-Lee had followed, posing her question as they clanked up the rungs of the ladder. Reaching their destination, Fel waited until Ami-Lee had emerged through the deck plating before answering. Wrong question, Doc...
He walked toward the flight deck, and almost forgot that the automated doors weren't functional, stopping short to press a recessed button on the bulkhead, and waited as the door slid slowly open. Not much was working around here. Only what absolutely needed to. He began to prep the ship, flipping on aux systems, and bringing up charts on the holo-projector, flipping through them with no discernable pattern or target in mind. There was no need to prep weapons systems, but he activated the tactical display anyhow, and the sensor suite. Slowly the bridge came to life, and Fel silently motioned to the Navigator's station while punching settings into the navacomp. Not 'where,' but 'who.' He spoke as if slightly distracted (which was likely, since he was -- apparently -- punching in random numbers, much like a child hitting the keyboard, with little knowledge of what they were doing, or why. He got up, seemingly satisfied with his efforts, and walked over to the opposite wall, flipping on a row of monitors and internal displays (life support, fire control, engine management, reactor temperature, as well as CCTV and onboard security (little of which functioned anymore.)
He moved back to the right-hand seat, sitting in the pilot's station and placed his feet up on the holo-projector in the central console. Well, That's all I can think of. This thing's bigger'n I'm used to, but we can kick the tires and light the fires anytime. Let's see if anyone else cares to join us... realizing he may not have actually answered her hey -- did you have any other questions?
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Galdaart Fel
Retired High Councilor
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Affiliation: The Unfair Advantage
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Post by Galdaart Fel on May 3, 2018 18:18:47 GMT -8
So -- who's up?
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