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Post by Shaman Odin Alfodr on Apr 5, 2013 4:06:14 GMT -8
*Ravelin was the capital city of the planet. It contained the Imperial Headquarters, the Imperial Library and Disra's Palace.*
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Ignus
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Ravelin
Apr 26, 2013 5:02:27 GMT -8
Post by Ignus on Apr 26, 2013 5:02:27 GMT -8
The people of Ravelin were waking up to another morning under the benevolent rule of the Imperium. The fact that the planet was called Bastion was just a small testament to the impenetrability of the capital. Not that security was state-of-the-art, or that there were effective passive measures in place. Ignus had been part of the Imperium for a while now, and he had to say... it worked. The Imperium fostered a healthy attitude towards benefiting the imperial regime. Corruptive, out-side news was filtered. The citizens were in fear of the military, and did not interfere.
It was... glorious.
Ignus awoke in his chamber just after dawn. He had plenty of work to do. Getting dressed in a bland but utilitarian outfit garnished with a trench coat, Ignus left his chamber and headed for the offices.
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Ronan Starflare
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Ravelin
Jun 5, 2013 14:56:59 GMT -8
Post by Ronan Starflare on Jun 5, 2013 14:56:59 GMT -8
In the middle of Ravelin, smack dab in the center of the heart of an Empire that stood for order, you could still find an order-less place or two. Every civilized planet or satellite or had its fair share of hole-in-the-wall bars and dives. But on a planet a long way from the counterpart of its opposite, a planet where soldiers openly patrolled the streets and tried to shut down places like this, it was truly an accomplishment to find one. But as his mother had said many times, in less seriousness than this situation required, when he was young and she still alive, desperate times called for desperate measures. And he was now very, very desperate.
He had not been this dressed down since he had arrived on Bastion one, no two, was it three? months ago. A simple, cream-hued shirtsleeve and black cargo vest, tight black pants, knee-high boots, and a low-slung blaster belt was not his usual attire. Not by a long shot. Not as Supreme Commander of the Military Forces of the Mighty Phoenix Imperium. But he was not Grand Admiral Ronan Starflare tonight. No, tonight he was merely Ronan. And he was expecting somebody.
So he had installed himself in a corner booth in the bar, one with a view of the bank of holoscreens hanging above the counter where a red-eyed Chiss bartender rinsed shot glasses and dispensed ales with the usual chill of all those who hailed from Csilla. There were various sporting events from across the galaxy that dominated nearly every screen in the bank. Podracing from Tatooine, iceboarding on Hoth, shockball on Kuat. But in the corner of the bank of screens, the bartend always had HNN on, regardless of Imperial or Republic origin. And when he had last frequented this place last, it had streamed the Republic HoloNews Network. And it reported very grave news, indeed: Yavin IV, foundation of the New Jedi Order, home to the Jedi Praxeum, base of the Jedi Peacekeeping Taskforce, and his home, was under siege by the forces of Mandalore and Ashrah Intalbo himself.
Cheers had gone up in the establishment when the noise of the news anchor had finally overcome the din that was the norm. Rounds were bought, songs were sung, dances were had and done. Even now, so many years later, under the rule of a Force User and with a Jedi as the Supreme Commander of the military, the people of the Empire still didn't like Force Sensitives. It truly was remarkable that a grudge begun by Palpatine himself, a Force User, had carried on, withstood the test of time, and ingrained itself in the hearts of the Imperials.
But he had stayed silent throughout the ordeal, merely sat in his corner, sipping on his ale. The patrons had given up on him. He was just another young, poor drunk who drank on a tab and paid it off every week. Two ales a night, five nights a week. The night the news from Yavin came down was no different. Not outwardly at least. Inwardly, inside Ronan's mind, was a flurry of thoughts and ideas, points and counterpoints, a desire to leave, but an unwillingness to go.
It had taken his comrades far too long of a time and even more effort to get him installed as Matar's Supreme Commander. To forsake their efforts and simply leave for Yavin would waste their long hours and countless scenarios. It was something he simply would not do. He had discovered far too much to leave now. Not when he was on the doorstep of finding the Interrogator herself. He could not leave now.
Even if every heartstring he had was being tugged at, begging him to go. Not when the Force would not answer him, would not guide his actions in this matter. So he waited, in a corner booth in a dive bar in the heart of the Empire, a long way from home and a longer way from sanity, for someone to come tell him that it was okay. That it was okay to go, that there was another way of finding the monstrous Super Star Destroyer that had placed a black mark on his existence. That he could help his friends. And save his world.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Ravelin
Jun 6, 2013 17:04:27 GMT -8
Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jun 6, 2013 17:04:27 GMT -8
A young woman walked in to the bar, passing through the crowds and coming to prop on a stool in front of the Chiss, where she laid down some Imperial credits and ordered a drink. She wore a short leather jacket, cropped at her hips, and virtually skin-tight dark-grey trousers, tucked in to brown boots, both of which enhanced her petite, delicately elfin frame. Beneath the open jacket was a dark-red vest top.
Her short-ish cropped mess of hair was red, her eyes a rich brown. Fair skin was speckled with a few freckles around her nose, and a prominent scar ran from her temple to her jaw down the side of her face. She was young, early twenties at most - save the scar, her skin was soft, almost flawless.
For ten minutes or so, she sat at the bar, nursing her drink and watching the news feeds, speaking to no one. Eventually, she seemed to grow weary of the feed - her eyes begun to wander around the bar, eyeing a few individuals and small groups, before finally, her eyes came to rest on the lone, blonde-haired man in the corner booth. She cracked him half a smile, before turning back to her drink.
Another minute passed, and suddenly, she turned, sliding off of her stool, and, drink in hand, walked across to him. There was a gentle swivel in her hips that betrayed a comfort in herself that was quite rare in one so young as she appeared to be. She slipped in to the seat opposite him, drained her drink, and set the empty tumbler on the table.
=Young Woman=
"So, am I going to sit here all day, or are you going to order me up a glass of Whyren's? I like the eighteen-year single malt."
The phrase, although bold, seemed innocuous enough; it was, however, a code-phrase, memorised and stated verbatim precisely as instructed. The phrase would inform Ronan that the young woman sitting across from him was here as his contact, and the correct etiquette was to respond with the precise response that he, himself, had been given to memorise.
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Ronan Starflare
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Ravelin
Jun 9, 2013 19:26:46 GMT -8
Post by Ronan Starflare on Jun 9, 2013 19:26:46 GMT -8
He faked a disgruntled look, playing along with the young woman that now sat across from him.
"Sure thing, Hon. In fact, I'll make it two. But first you gotta tell me your name."
He reached to the center of the table where an ever-present holo-menu was and he tapped in the order. Glancing back at the woman, he sent the order off to the barkeep droid and waited. He was risking a lot with this meeting. Hopefully things went according to plan.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Ravelin
Jun 10, 2013 14:05:43 GMT -8
Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jun 10, 2013 14:05:43 GMT -8
She offered him a small smile.
=Carrie=
"My name is Carrie. You must be Ronan."
She leant in, arching an eyebrow at the Jedi. Her eyes wandered over his face, studying him. Her smile grew a little wider, and she leant back in her chair.
=Carrie=
"Before we get started, I have one question."
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Ronan Starflare
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Ravelin
Jun 10, 2013 14:47:06 GMT -8
Post by Ronan Starflare on Jun 10, 2013 14:47:06 GMT -8
He smirked at the lithe redhead in front of him as the server droid sat their drinks at the edge of the table.
"Sure thing. Shoot."
He pulled the tumbler close and took a sip.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Ravelin
Jun 13, 2013 13:39:55 GMT -8
Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jun 13, 2013 13:39:55 GMT -8
The young girl who had identified herself as Carrie leant in, glanced over her should at the bar for a moment, before looking back at the Jedi in disguise. Her mouth widened into a cheeky smile, but it sat somewhat at odds with the words she said - obviously a cover up.
=Carrie=
"How did you meet him?"
Though the mouth had a smile of cheeky playfulness, the eyes, and her emotional impression on the Force, conveyed something else - a genuine fascination, a wide-eyed wonderment, still youthful despite the confidence and the clear experience of her.
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Ronan Starflare
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Ravelin
Jun 14, 2013 7:18:01 GMT -8
Post by Ronan Starflare on Jun 14, 2013 7:18:01 GMT -8
He narrowed his eyes in thought rather than anger. They hadn't mentioned any other male names than his own, and he had known himself for all his life, so that was out. Then who?
As much as he disliked it, he brushed her mind with the Force, running through recent memories. Simply delving into her mind to find the name exactly would have been easier, but very invasive and it was not something he was overly gifted in, so he took the roundabout approach. And upon sifting through her incredibly recent long-term memory, he found one person populated it. Just. One. Person. In her entire recent memory. Interesting.
"I flew with him. He was a squadmate. A fantastic pilot. Singular determination. And a good friend."
She'd know who he was talking about. He sipped from the tumbler and felt the liquid tingle and burn as it slipped down the back of his throat. He had actually needed the drink. His nerves were shot. Even for a Jedi, even one with a repertoire of calming techniques that would get him through most visions and space battles, not a lot of things hit as close to home for him as this one did. He scooted forward, his rear barely on the edge of the musty old seat.
"So. Carrie. What news?"
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Dav Man'Sell
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Ravelin
Jun 14, 2013 8:53:58 GMT -8
via mobile
Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jun 14, 2013 8:53:58 GMT -8
She nodded, thoughtful, but the change in her smile, to something smaller, and almost more vulnerable, showed a contentment. A validation, even.
And then, just like that, she returned to the confidence and bluster of her cover character, and set herself to business.
=Carrie=
"Well, short version is, the school is doing okay. Kids are on field trips, though most of the faculty are buried under the workload."
Although a somewhat improvised code, the meaning ought not to have been lost on him. She gave him a seductive smile, as she scooped up her own glass, which she lifted to her lips.
=Carrie=
"But we can talk about that later..." More code, indicating she had information for him that could be classed as classified and best not discussed in a crowded bar. She gave him a moment to process it as she took a deep sip of the amber liquid in her glass. "... I want to know more about you. Our mutual friend said you had been talking about a holiday? But that you had a big project you had to complete first?"
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Ronan Starflare
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Ravelin
Jun 14, 2013 9:29:15 GMT -8
Post by Ronan Starflare on Jun 14, 2013 9:29:15 GMT -8
He simply nodded as she explained parts of the situation. At least the students had gotten to safety. But all of his friends were trapped. Fighting for their lives. Possibly fighting right now. As he was having this conversation. And as much as he hated beating around the bush, it this instance it was necessary. If this mission had taught him anything about being subtle, it was all being used right now. He took another sip from the glass as she finished, then spoke.
"He wasn't wrong. I have an enormous project to complete. The biggest I've ever undertaken. Very stressful and all that. But the project has stalled, unfortunately. I need a breakthrough that I can't get from here. Not with my mind the way it is. I need that holiday."
He hated codes and just how imprecise that they could be. Especially this one that the pair was inventing on the fly. But hopefully his words were clear enough to her. In reality, his search for the Interrogator had gone fantastically. There was nothing else he could do from here other than throw the might of the Imperium Navy at the thing. And given that it wasn't the Imperium's fight to fight, he couldn't do that.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Ravelin
Jun 18, 2013 9:48:58 GMT -8
Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jun 18, 2013 9:48:58 GMT -8
She gave another seductive smile.
=Carrie=
"Sound's fascinating. Perhaps we should get a bottle to go, go somewhere where we can get really comfortable, and you can tell me all about it."
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Ronan Starflare
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Ravelin
Jun 28, 2013 6:13:42 GMT -8
Post by Ronan Starflare on Jun 28, 2013 6:13:42 GMT -8
He smirked the same smirk he had for years, quickly punching it in to the console and paying the tab, leaving a generous tip for the bar.
"I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."
The waitress droid came with two bottles, setting them down on the old table before zooming off again. He grabbed his as he stood, extending his arm, crooked at the elbow for her to latch on to. Appearances had to be kept up after all.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Ravelin
Jul 9, 2013 14:45:19 GMT -8
Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jul 9, 2013 14:45:19 GMT -8
It was twenty minutes before they reached Carrie's small hotel room. As soon as they were through the door, the anti-surveillance equipment became apparent - there were several items in the room designed for that purpose and that purpose alone. Signal scramblers, static generators, sensor jammers, audio dampeners. As Carrie stepped in to the room, access key card in hand, she turned on the spot to face the Jedi, arms outstretched to the side.
=Carrie=
"Welcome to my home. I've got all the mod-cons. Everything a modern girl needs to keep her head down."
She turned back into the room, dropping the keycard on the bed.
=Carrie=
"Close the door, and let's talk."
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Ronan Starflare
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Ravelin
Jul 9, 2013 18:37:44 GMT -8
Post by Ronan Starflare on Jul 9, 2013 18:37:44 GMT -8
The room was littered with the tools and trademarks of a natural, well-versed spy. It was small, cramped. But of all the hotel rooms he'd been in, this one was neither horrid nor excellent.
She told him to shut the door. So he did. A small wave of his backward-facing palm and the door slid back into position, the bolts turning, settling into place. Crossing his arms against his chest, sitting at the foot of the bed, he spoke.
"Talk. Tell me everything. Then me."
Very rarely was he anxious. But he was now. This was a matter of supreme importance to him. This was his true role. Not some spywork. And he was eager to get back to it. But he couldn't solve the equation without all the variables.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Ravelin
Jul 9, 2013 19:04:29 GMT -8
Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jul 9, 2013 19:04:29 GMT -8
Carrie had walked over to a small dresser on the furthest wall, where she slipped her coat off, revealing the nasty looking Blastech DL-series blaster tucked in the back of her waistband, and draped it over the dresser. Next, she opened one of the dresser's compartments and, removing a small datapad, turned her attention back to him.
=Carrie=
"All the tactical information we have is on here."
She passed it to him, taking a step back and leaning against the wall once he'd taken it, her arms folded against her chest in a mimicry of his own posture.
=Carrie=
"The short version is that Yavin's currently under a blockade. The Station and orbit are in Mandalorian hands, but the Praxeum remains under Jedi control. Defensive shield and surface to air platforms remain operational. The Republic senate are... deliberating what to do right now, as they do, but the Jedi Council has counselled against trying to break the blockade right away. They're more concerned that the Mandalorians will strike at another world, a world with a civilian population, next, and they think making sure the Republic's defences are up to it is the most important step at this stage."
She pressed her lips thinly together.
=Carrie=
"I also have orders for you from Da -- Master Man'Sell and Master Pulastra. Though we can get to them once my partner's here."
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Ronan Starflare
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Ravelin
Jul 10, 2013 7:24:26 GMT -8
Post by Ronan Starflare on Jul 10, 2013 7:24:26 GMT -8
He quickly snatched the datapad from her hands, shotting to his feet and began to pace as he delved deeper into the knowledge base. His eyes scanned the screen as she spoke. Force deployments. Casualties sustained. Weapons used. The like.
He continued scrolling. Their blockade was dense. All manner of mines and capital ships. No wonder the Council had told the Republic not to attempt a run...Had told...the Republic...
His eyes went wide as thoughts swam in his head. He'd need something small. No larger than a CR90. Preferably smaller. But with large cargo space.
A smirk quickly replaced the concerned facial expression that had adorned his face as she spoke. He pivoted, turning back to her. Looked her in the eye.
"Go ahead and give me Dav's orders and I'll see what I can do. Then I'm going to need something from you."
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Dav Man'Sell
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Ravelin
Jul 11, 2013 5:34:22 GMT -8
Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jul 11, 2013 5:34:22 GMT -8
The young girl pursed her lips, and nodded. With a push off of the wall, she crossed back to the dresser, and drew out another device, which she handed to Ronan.
=Carrie=
"The orders are three-fold. Download all the navigational data from the Phoenix Imperium database. Get a trace beacon, if you can, on the, uh, 'target' -" The way she said it suggested that she, in fact, had no knowledge what-so-ever of exactly what the target itself was. "And then get out."
The device she'd handed to Ronan was a data-transmitter, designed to allow back-door access to computer cores for high-capacity, stealth, remote downloads. She stood there, hands folder across her stomach.
=Carrie=
"They want you to help prepare the defences of other worlds."
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Ronan Starflare
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Ravelin
Jul 11, 2013 9:15:34 GMT -8
Post by Ronan Starflare on Jul 11, 2013 9:15:34 GMT -8
He smirked. He was a step ahead of her.
"I downloaded the data the first thing after I was installed. It's been constantly updating since then. It was my job to have that information, and they freely gave it to me.
"As for my...target, that will be more difficult. I have it's known locations and a tracking algorithm set, but that's the best I can do. I've flagged it in the Imperial database as a class five threat: turn around, blind jump out, beam a report back to command on a secure frequency. Upon which I've piggybacked the frequency for my own personal comlink as well as the Jedi's secure way of communication. That's the best I can do without actually going out and manually searching for it."
He had said too much as it was. This poor girl didn't need to know that he was searching for a 25km behemoth of a Star Destroyer.
"And I'll do just that. But not now. Right now, what I need you to do is to find me a freighter. Doesn't have to be big. I want it loaded with as many supplies as it can take and still be able to support at least a four-person crew.
"My job prior to this was to organize the defense of Yavin IV. I've failed in that aspect. Now I intend to make up for it."
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Jago
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Ravelin
Jul 11, 2013 9:31:16 GMT -8
Post by Jago on Jul 11, 2013 9:31:16 GMT -8
The lock on the door flashed green for a moment as it was disengaged, another figure stepping inside the small apartment and quickly reactivating the electronic seal so as to prevent any sort of eavesdropping. He took a moment to check over the door, making sure nothing was out of place, before turning to face the room's occupants.
He was quite a bit taller than Carrie, and thin. Almost unhealthily thin. A wiry frame had chartreuse canvas taut across it, leading up to a meticulously trimmed mane of dark copper, parted to the right and smoothed down. Violet eyes sat above a complex set of black diamonds trailing down his cheeks, the same pattern etched just under his lips as well. The Mirialan took a quick glance to Ronan, then back to Carrie, giving a brief nod of understanding that this man was their contact.
" You're the Jedi, I take it," he observed, his voice deeper than expected from his appearance and thick with a Coruscanti accent gained from years of living and working on the capital planet. His dress was simple, unassuming: a decent pair of black slacks, a button-down top of steel blue, and a nerf-leather jacket over top: the thick material concealing the blaster he hid within. Mincing no words, he strode up to Ronan and offered his hand.
" Veren Eks. Arr-Eye-Ess. Glad to be working with you, sir."
His tone was very military: a mark of having spent too much time in the regular rank-and-file before transferring into the Intelligence Service. His eyes snapped over to Carrie before Ronan even had a chance to introduce himself, giving a small jerk of the head to the Jedi.
" He's been brought up to speed, Care?"
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