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Post by tktriplethreefive on Oct 17, 2013 10:56:51 GMT -8
Bound from the Forest Moon of Endor in a battered C-Wing Ugly Fighter, a pair of Bounty Hunters, a Rattataki and a Natolaun, began to chart a new course for Polis Massa, where their quarry was located, almost immediately after arriving. The Natolaun recieved an encoded holo-transmission on her comlink, calling the Rattataki to her side, she watched as a blue ghost flickerd to life before her eyes.
"Your contract is terminated" a deep Hutt voice intoned in it's native tounge "The Jedi has been captured already by one of my most prized of employees, Dengar has beaten you to it, again."
The Bounty Hunters exchanged furious glances as the Hutt's hologram faded. Their plans have changed, no longer are they headed for the isolated edge of Wild Space that is Polis Massa, they must head for Nar Shadaa, the Smuggler's Moon, in the hopes of finding work again. This left them with the problem of their passenger: TK-3335, an Imperial Stormtrooper that was stranded on Endor for years following the destruction of the Death Star II. Glancing back at the sleeping trooper, their craft begins a descent to the capital city of the fiery planet below...
[Cont'd in Fralideja thread]
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Oracle
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Post by Oracle on Aug 13, 2015 20:24:12 GMT -8
Taia Gatheen was a patient woman. It befit her station; she commanded a legion aboard her space station, which worked day and night to finish the space-borne monolith. The exterior shell had been finished; a reddish-gold diamond hung in the skies above Mustafar, the metal itself synthesized and purified through processes she never would have thought modern science capable of. And it was just as well. What could have been the work of mere hours in her own time had taken several years by theirs, and that was with untold wealth pouring in and the lost knowledge of a civilization long buried beneath the sands of time lending their hands. But in the end, it was beautiful. The corridors, atriums, arches, and designs were all just as she had remembered from the archives she had spent countless days wandering through. And as the commander of an ornately beautiful station and an army working tirelessly to complete it on her behalf, it was only fitting that she be patient.
Taia Gatheen was also rather clever. She had been smart enough in her heyday. Brilliant, in fact. Brilliant enough to be sent to some backwater world where the primitive lifeforms had been taken to by the very ships her people had built and summarily lost, and where they did something truly remarkable. Brilliant enough to catch on to what she saw, and to adapt what she had learned. She had taken the lessons and myths she had gathered from reading about the ancient Star Forge over Lehon and applied them. She had taken the knowledge of the Jedi - genuine insight stored in their sorry excuses for holocrons - and made it her own. When the Death Star destroyed Alderaan, she took notes and formed hypotheses before the bodies had turned cold. And when she heard rumors that a Mon Calamari man had been displaced in time and found his way back, she was just curious enough to see, scouring the galaxy for the spot on her benefactor's credit.
And when she found it - a scar in the Force the likes of which she had never felt before - Taia Gatheen became a determined woman as well as a patient and clever one. Her people had mastered the laws of the universe in ways most of the galaxy's current denizens could only dream of, and one of the silly little ones had broken a law they hadn't even considered. If such a feat like his was possible, then surely the one she had been mulling over for years could be done as well.
Except that it couldn't. Over the years, Taia Gatheen had collected several of the small, reddish-gold cubes that sat lifelessly on the other side of her stateroom. Seemingly ordinary boxes, set apart only by their unique hue and luster, that nonetheless called out to her across the stars as they had done for so long. And there was one yet to be discovered that she could sense, only to know it was under the heaviest locks she had ever heard of. Such inconveniences were where her Falleen benefactor came in. He had a knack for acquiring things beyond her reach. And in return, Taia had promised him a bounty that his feeble mortal mind - a pair of adjectives she had wisely chosen to keep to herself - couldn't possibly comprehend. She strode across the stateroom, her bare, olive-skinned feet brushing against the fine shimmersilk of the rug as she picked up one of the small boxes.
"Show me again, please."
Once lifeless and ordinary, the box seemed to hum with life before roaring with it, glowing gently as brilliant white lines shot to and fro across its surface. In her mind's eye, Taia Gatheen saw her ultimate reward dancing in front of her; buildings and statues of untold and forgotten splendor, beaches of golden sand and oceans of unmarred blue; people in ornate dress and plazas of impossible things made reality; an armada marching forth, taking back the galaxy that was rightfully theirs. Taia smiled gently to herself before stopping, keeping herself from being reminded of the Falleen's request. But for all their knowledge - much of which she had brought back to the plane of reality - the most crucial piece of information was locked away behind the heaviest locks she had ever known. Everything else that she needed was on the station itself, save for that final piece of the puzzle.
Taia Gatheen was determined. She was clever. And she was patient. All three traits were needed when one was easily twice as old as the Galactic Republic had been.
But her patience was wearing thin.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jan 11, 2016 19:42:15 GMT -8
Region: Outer Rim Territories (West)
Sector: Atravis sector
System: Mustafar system
Planet: Mustafar Orbit The Skybreaker exited from hyperspace near the volcanic world of Mustafar, making sure to stay well beyond the planet's local sensor range, as the crew maneuvered the ship to the location of The Storm's Fury. The Colonel stood upon the bridge, with Meta Team arrayed behind him, as they began the same process as they had done near Froz, with the two ships closing in upon one another under sensor and radio silence. Everything was going as planned, or at least, it was going as planned up until the ships had drawn alongside one another and came to a stop, at which point the guns upon The Storm's Fury started locking on to the Skybreaker, and sensor scans were detectedSir, we've got multiple target locks...What they hell are they doing?Sir! We're detecting multiple signatures exiting hyperspace...What? A trap?It seem's so sir...Suddenly the other ARC Hammer class Factory Ship's started dropping in from hyperspace around the Skybreaker and Storm's Fury, the ship's taking a moment to lock their targetting systems onto the Skybreaker. It was then, that The Colonel spotted The Reaper, which stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the multitude of ARC Hammer's. So, Bahamut was here, and had gathered everyone for this one battle, that or Secretary Jarvis had decided to take things into his own hands at last and decided this is where it would all end. It was quiet the gamble on their pursuers part to hedge all their bets on this encounter, but clearly it was about to pay off for them. Cannon fire rocked the ship, as The Storm's Fury fired upon the Skybreaker's engines, whilst the other ARC Hammer's fired ion cannon shots, to ensure it couldn't escape.
The fact they were only being disabled, meant that Bahamut intended to bring them in alive, and that he was very likely already on board the ship, or inbound with his cloaked transports. Suddenly, several of the ARC Hammers then turned upon the other's and started firing turbolaser rounds and missiles at one another, with the Skybreaker forced to do nothing but watch as their comrade vessels began a fleet battle with one another. Well, there was nothing they could do about that, but there was a certain intruder, that the Colonel intended to meet personally, and so he turned around and headed off the bridge, with Meta Team following close behind. A few floors down, The Colonel sent Meta Team off in a different direction, which the team grudgingly did, whilst he himself headed down another level and waited in a mess hall for Bahamut to appear |
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on Feb 14, 2016 17:37:53 GMT -8
A small speck appeared, far from the grav-well of Mustafar, and for the first time in a sixteen hour jump, Galdaart Fel breathed easy (or at least, what passed for 'easy' these days.) The ship, a YV-545 that might, or might not have had a name (Fel honestly didn't care...) was flying -- just barely. Held together with bubble gum and some of the shoddiest soldering this side of Jabba's palace, Fel was surprised they had made it this far. Not that it had been an easy jump. He had fought a losing battle with the navacomp and they only had 20% sublight engines, but it was enough to get planetside, and at this stage in the game, it was all the outlander gave a toss about.
Setting hyperspace charts aside (they were festooned around the cockpit, and ankle-deep on the floor) he brought the faltering engines online and angled them toward the red sphere that was Mustafar. Internal comms were shot, so he yelled over his shoulder: "two hours to planetside!"
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Oracle
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Post by Oracle on Feb 20, 2016 14:50:56 GMT -8
She felt it. She felt it. Untold ages after she had procured the last of her most precious possessions, a shock ran up her spine like a bolt of lightning, setting her body on fire as it arced across her nervous system. But even in all that time, Taia Gatheen hadn't felt anything quite like this. Perhaps it had been the sheer shock; Taia had grown used to the other tomes' unique signatures, and this new one - now finally within her grasp - had stirred waters that had lain silent for centuries. Perhaps it was the anticipation; after all this time, her set was complete, and the stresses of the years were finally lifted from her. Perhaps it was the one-two punch of its presence and...something else. Something that didn't belong. Something alien, even to her.
Not that it would stop her. Taia Gatheen was within arm's reach of her goal at last, and nothing - not men, not ships, not guns, and not morality - would stop her from accomplishing it. The ordinarily serene woman closed her eyes, gathered her focus, and thought.
I want that ship. Bring it to me.
As if in response, golden lines of light erupted from under her feet, crossing the rose gold floor to rapidly ascend the walls and ceiling before lashing out into the corridor just beyond the threshold of her door.
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As Fel's ship descended towards the molten wastes of Mustafar, a voice crossed the communications array.
"Pilot," it said, "you are to divert your course to the coordinates provided. Divert and proceed immediately."
Moments later, the navicomputer received the coordinates the mystery voice was talking about. They led the ship to a space not on Mustafar itself, but in orbit. At the designated place, a reddish-gold diamond hung in the sky, a hangar bay door sliding open along its center line to greet them.
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on Feb 21, 2016 6:15:08 GMT -8
Fel looked to Bloodshot: izzat our port of call? Receiving what passed for affirmation from the stoic merc, Fel laid in the course, and they got underway. It would still take them a little over an hour to reach the location, and the spacer filled the time with attempts at repairs, for which he was ill-prepared, in tools or in knowledge. He was no electrical engineer. This was scorched, that was broken, that thing wasn't working, this piece was obviously blown. Removal of pieces that were short-circuited, fried or otherwise wrecked would have left a big pile of components in most of the spaces of the ship. Pulling apart that much of a craft without a clear understanding of how it all went back together, and how a body would pull it off without proper spares seemed a fool's errand, and perhaps less-logically -- Fel didn't like removing things from a ship.
That's maybe a little difficult to understand, but the rationale behind it is, of course, flawed and based on superstition (and Fel's latent but subconscious knowledge of Telemechanics.) In the back of his mind, the outlander feels uneasy about removing pieces from a ship (especially in motion) because, to hear him say it -- "it was there for a reason. Its presence ain't hurtin' us now, and no sense in making a hole where there wasn't one before..." What he doesn't realize, and couldn't understand even if it were explained to him, is that his use of Telemechanics relies on the arteries of the ship, neural pathways that can occasionally, in times of stress or intense concentration make the ship an extension of his own body. That manifests in his subconscious. Digging around under the deck-plates and, for instance, disconnecting and removing the mechanical fuel delivery system in favor of a new, more efficient, nano-tech unit might sound practical, but Fel would likely joke that "it's one less piece of metal between the hull and me in a firefight," better to leave it connected, and add the new unit as a secondary system 'just in case...' when what he's subconsciously concerned with is the removal of a system that interconnects with any other in the ship, essentially deadening that area of the ship from his sensory input.
So unless there was a clear fix for the ailments of the YV-545's current issues, Fel certainly wasn't pulling it apart. Not here, with endless vacuum and cold just inches outside the viewer...
Time passed, and the diamond grew bigger as they approached.
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Mel Tervho
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Post by Mel Tervho on Feb 24, 2016 8:28:49 GMT -8
When they decanted from hyperspace, she had her answer and it was not what she wanted to hear. They were twisting. Mel stared hard at the wall across from her, trying to make a decision. There were few left she could trust and the only person she thought was their best chance was not someone she thought she could. It wouldn't matter though if it could get them out of this and get Fel back to his people. Surely that would count for something.
She sent off another message, this time it would take longer to get a reply because her network would have to find the Cathar first. There was no telling if he would help but she helped him once. Perhaps, he would repay the favor. In the meantime, there was telling Fel. She sighed heavily and pushed up off the bench. No time like the present.
She found him trying to repair the ship as best he could and she eased up next to him, looking over what he was doing, and how he was doing. He wasn't looking good. Time was a commodity they were swiftly running out of. She made sure she had his attention before she quietly confirmed his nagging suspicion.
"We're loose."
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on Feb 25, 2016 6:23:35 GMT -8
Fel noticed her arrival, acknowledged her with a grunt as he soldered and replaced several relays. she stood for longer than was customary for Melia, and when she finally spoke, several feelings washed over him, vying for the top spot in his consciousness. They had been a thousand light years from home a split second ago, and now it seemed that much closer. At least, the news meant they could make the move he had dreaded under the Imperial thumb. Sure, Alistair, or whoever was pulling the strings now was likely a verified badass in his-or-her own right, but somehow, being an enemy of some lowlife crime boss didn't scare Fel nearly as bad as being on the receiving end of the wrath of a Sith, and the Empress of the Remnant, at that. No, her words had washed away all vestiges of fear that held Galdaart Fel to this course that he had felt tied to against his will.
He thought of prison, and the time between then and now, the changes both mental and physical and the missions they'd fought thru to come to be here. He thought of the time remaining, knowing it was short.
He nodded, after what must have seemed a long time. Do you like me, Melia? I mean... aside from the mission. Do you actually think I'm a good person? He carried on working on the relays, closing up the panel as she replied (or didn't.) He turned to face her, sitting up from the floor grate and lying back against the wall of the corridor.
It matters. Don't ask me why, but it matters. he thought for a long moment, until a soft beeping could be heard from the cockpit -- final approach to their destination. He levered himself up on unsteady legs, coughing so deeply that it took over his whole body. When at last it ended, he hadn't realized, but he was holding onto her for support. He stepped back slightly, ashamed that he was so frail, but stayed close in order to speak closely to her with less chance of being overheard.
We get these people where they need to go. Likely receive the next 'assignment,' and then I'm making a move. They'll come after us... it won't be easy... but are you with me?
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Mel Tervho
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Post by Mel Tervho on Feb 25, 2016 7:16:59 GMT -8
"I do. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think you were." She watched him finish the patch just as the console started beeping their arrival. He was shaky getting up and she stepped in close to help him get steady. He looked embarrassed but she didn't back away from him. Their complicated situation just got a hell of a lot worse. She wasn't about to make him doubt her convictions when she said she would get him back to his crew no matter what.
"Fel, I promised you I'd see you to your ship. I intend to keep that. I sent a message to an old friend. If he can help, we have a better set of odds than if it were just the two of us. But just let me know when you zig and I'll cover the zag."
The unspoken thing rotting in the back of her mind was that she knew this was a suicide mission. There was nothing waiting for her at the other end. No one to go home to. No home and no country. Right now, all that mattered was ending this, and getting him to his home. If that cost her life, then it was trade she was willing to make.
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on Feb 25, 2016 8:34:24 GMT -8
He was already counting the odds, making plans, weighing options, figuring out how to ask for favors from people who owed him nothing. Didn't matter. None of it. This was cashing in all the chips. There was no game left to be played, and when it happenedc, he wouldn't be a smuggler trying to hold onto his little place in the verse... he'd just be a man fighting to get home to his family. When they broke away from whoever was pulling strings, whoever came in contact with them was potentially compromised, and so Fel had to tread lightly. He didn't want to mar the ledgers of everyone he could even loosely call an acquaintance. 'Friends.' That was even worse. He couldn't see the endgame, but knew it wasn't all that promising. There was no getting clear of this. At least, not for him. But Melia was young, had a beau waiting for her (or so he thought.) If he could do right by her, he would. If she could live free, without looking over her shoulder every other second, he'd grant her that. Same goes for his whole crew. He just couldn't see a way to do it. Yet.
Straightening and calling on yet more reserves of strength, he took a deep breath and moved into the cockpit of the YV-class freighter. Taking his seat, he felt better. Always did. Flipping the controls over to manual, he faint beeping stopped, and he activated broadband comms before entering the wide docking aperture.
Station at bearing 000 -- stand by, we're on final approach.
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Oracle
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Post by Oracle on Feb 25, 2016 15:13:22 GMT -8
The station did not respond. The red-gold diamond hung silently over the volcanic world, almost casting a psychic shadow on those that dared look upon it. As the ship moved closer, those that saw it would be able to make out faint patterns in the station's hull, and even fainter yellow lights raced across its surface like luminescent veins. But for all its beauty, the station seemed to throb with an unknown, unshakable energy that grew more powerful as Fel's ship drew ever closer. The hangar door, once a small slit in the equator of the diamond, now loomed before them, more ready to devour the vessel whole than invite them in.
As the vessel touched down on the hangar floor - also made of the same strange metal as the exterior hull - the lights came up. There were no obvious fixtures, nor was there a clearly-detectable source; the walls themselves seemed to brighten as the YV-series freighter came to a halt. On the far side of the vast hangar, which was completely empty save for the ship itself, a smaller door slid open and a single 3PO droid scuttled forward, eager (as they always were) to greet the new guests.
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on Mar 1, 2016 9:11:41 GMT -8
Fel lagged in the cockpit. He felt like hell, and didn't really care to be over-warmly greeted by the 3PO. Besides, this wasn't his score. Bloodshot could deal with the delivery of his 'artifact.' Fel was more than happy to let the merry band of soldiers-for-hire take lead on their own mission. If he was needed, he'd be called for. Powering down the engines and main systems, he leaned back in the pilot's chair, frowning slightly (it just didn't have the same range of motion as the older Corellian models, nor the familiar creak and exposed stuffing of the UA.)
Such thoughts were fleeting. His mind was filled to bursting with thoughts of the past, and trepidation about the future. How were they? Had they kept making deals, kept flying, kept forging an existence in the Dark? Had they found Wade? Was Liya still with them? Had they taken on any new crew? What about Dante -- their last contractor? Images flashed through his mind, crazy Mack, as close to the edge as anyone Fel'd ever flown with, and sometimes well past the edge. Steadfast Jace, whom Fel lamented he actually didn't know as well as he'd like... if there was one who had his back come hell or high water, it was likely Jace. He pictured Wade training in the cargo hold of the UA, not a care in the world. Fel imagined they could blow an airlock, and Connors would be ice cold. In his eyes, Wade was never dead. He knew it as well as he knew the Kessel Run. The pilot wondered if Liya would stay on with the crew. She was much like him. Maybe too much. If the time came, she was the right choice to lead. She was smart, and wouldn't take any shit from the crew or the 'verse. And of course, as she had been every day since they parted, there was Malora. As beautiful as when he had first laid eyes on her. More. She was the only one he worried about. Not because she couldn't handle herself. Far from it. Maybe because she was the only one who'd give pause at him being gone. The others... they'd move on. They'd be fine. Hell -- so would Malora. She was tougher than most anyone he'd met. But he worried about Karana. He had to mean something -- anything, to someone, and he had a feeling she was the one that he might've meant something to.
He allowed his vision to unfocus from the 3PO that was nearing the bow of the ship, and refocus on his own reflection in the cockpit canopy. He barely recognized himself. The wiry, sinewy muscle he had always had, though done little to cultivate was mostly gone. The harder, defined muscle developed in prison was likewise gone, eaten away by his own body, devouring itself from the inside. He looked gaunt and pale, and his hair had a lot more grey in it than even a couple of years ago. He ran fingers over his chest and down his sides, feeling the ribs stand out under his touch.
Turning away from the canopy to escape the famine victim staring at him, he found yet another view of himself reflected in a dead monitor to his right. Disgusted with himself, a frustrated by the time he had wasted already, he lashed out, punching the screen with gloved knuckles. The display sparked and fizzed as the viewer cracked under his assault. He turned away again, but his image was all around him. He lashed out again, and again until there were no less than five dead and shattered monitors around him. Finally ceasing as his breath caught in his throat and he coughed raggedly, letting his head and hands hang down, elbows propped on his knees. Blood pat-pat-patted on the deck at his feet from the corner of his mouth and his knuckles.
Time was up. There was no getting around it.
Fel stood, and moved over to the navigator's station. He called up a few different programs until he found the one he was looking for, and began something he thought he'd never have to do. He began writing a Wave to Adrien Draykon. He didn't use the Holonet very often, and had never directly Waved Draykon before, but it was an encryption and address he had devoted to memory long ago. The same was true of most smuggler crews. It was an unwritten thing: they knew of each-other, they knew how to get ahold of each-other, but it was rarely something that was done, as much out of pride as prudence. Both of which he simply didn't have time for anymore. Typically, there was little sense in bringing a bunch of crews together. They were all wanted in one way or another. Gathering a bunch of nomad, wanted crews together only really served to start trouble, and make a big target for whoever was watching.
He didn't send the Wave... not yet... not until he knew there weren't eyes on him, but he saved a copy in his meager personal files.
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Mel Tervho
The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Mel Tervho on Mar 2, 2016 8:15:47 GMT -8
Mel went where Fel went. Whatever they were on Mustafar for didn't concern her. She didn't have an answer yet to the message she sent but even if she had, they would still need a plan. Fel beat the crap out of himself enough that Mel went for the medkit, dragging it to the spot where he was sitting on the floor, bloody knuckles and all. She rummaged in the kit until she found some disinfectant, and gingerly applied it to the broken skin on the backs of his hands. The broken monitors hung around her but she didn't say a word to him about it. Wrapping his knuckles in gauze, she looked up at his face then back to her work. The trickle of blood out of the side of his mouth couldn't have been a good sign.
She left him with a tissue and a syringe of his treatment, sitting there in the hallway. The anger was not something she could easily identify with. Mel had always been a pawn in someone's game. Her choices were never her own, freedom was not something she had felt until Taung and it had been as fleeting as their time together. She missed the little things about him, the way he looked at her, the way the corner of his mouth twitched when he told a joke. His hands were rough and calloused but he touched her more tenderly than a oligarch who never knew hard labor in his life.
She couldn't remember now if she told him she loved that last time she saw him. She couldn't remember if he knew. She didn't know. She closed the hatch securing the medkit away again with a loud click. She grabbed a couple rags and some oil from the supply cabinet and sat down to clean her pistols while the rest did their thing.
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Bloodshot
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Affiliation: Chaos and credits, baby.
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Post by Bloodshot on Mar 11, 2016 19:47:16 GMT -8
He could feel the turmoil in the captain's mind, and he was half tempted to reach out and dig deeper. If Fel was compromised, he needed to... no. It didn't matter now. The dying man had fulfilled his role in the mission. Whatever he did, whatever condition he was in now, it was irrelevant to the mercenary. He'd done his part, and done it well. If Bloodshot had been a loyal follower of his employer, he might have delved deeper, looked to make sure there was nothing going on in his head that would compromise his future usefulness. As it was, he just plain didn't care. He wasn't being paid to sniff out the secrets hidden inside the minds of the Shadow King's employees. It wasn't any of his business.
With that little issue settled comfortably in his own mind, Bloodshot took the holocron in hand and descended the boarding ramp to meet their client.
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Galdaart Fel
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Post by Galdaart Fel on Mar 18, 2016 9:06:16 GMT -8
Fel watched as the 3P0 droid walked back across the hangar, with Bloodshot and the other mercs in tow. They had their prize. Fel wasn't even sure he wanted to know what he had just transported, and what the kriff it was for, but he had done what he was told to do. He knew there would be more coming. It would never end, not for him. Alistair would continue to feed him odd jobs, doing the dirty work of some clime syndicate until he died. There was no getting away. And Melia would be sent on to mind the next fool, and the next. No agency or criminal organization lets good operatives go. It's nice to hear it every once in a while, but the bottom line is they all expect you to die for the cause.
His mind was made up. There was no going back.
"You know we'll likely die, Melia..." she was walking down the corridor, her back to him. She was only a step or two from the adjoining corridor that led to the common spaces of the ship. "I know what (or who) I'd die for. What about you?"
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Mel Tervho
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Post by Mel Tervho on Mar 18, 2016 10:59:00 GMT -8
She stopped when he asked, her eyes fixed on a panel of the corridor across from her, slivers of ice blue searching the dingy surface for an answer, as if one would be inscribed there. She breathed out a solemn sigh, resignation in knowing that he grasped the likelihood of the outcome. She turned slowly, her shoulders rolled back as she leveled him with a look. He was staring down the Nether right now, his death assured either way. She blinked a couple times at the floor before she walked over to him, sliding her hands into her front pockets.
"Dying for someone or something is a free man's luxury. You've thought yourself immortal much of your life, and now you feel the coming end so you search for meaning. Assets don't get those romantic notions. We are prepared for death because we don't have a life, we are a tool, like any other. I'll die completing my promise. That's all I've got."
It's all I've ever had, she thought to herself.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Apr 6, 2016 20:24:07 GMT -8
Bahamut still wasn't sure where the intel for this operation had come from, but he'd received a message from Jarvis not long after they'd dealt with The Skyfire, ordering him to move everyone to Mustafar since it was The Skybreaker's next destination. And so, here they were now, The Barloz-class medium freighter's speeding across the vastness of space as they headed for a hangar bay of The Skybreaker, whilst chaos was starting to erupt around them. There was some greater plan going on, that he had not been made privvy to, but right now, he was in too deep with this current mission, to worry about everything else that was going on around them.
As soon as the Freighter's touched down within the hangar bay, the landing ramps had been dropped to the ground, and Bahamut had drawn a pair of his extendable short swords as he raced forward, sliding across a crate as he engaged the rather disorganized forces within the hangar. It wasn't long after Liger team and Jaeger team joined the fight, that the hangar was quickly cleared of hostiles, the pre-emptive attack by The Storm's Fury having served as a perfect distraction. Tacit Ronin then brought up a map of the ship after they had regrouped near the exit of the Hangar, the droids scanners working in tandem with nearby ships to work out where various people were located and displaying the information on a holomap.
Bahamut sheathed his blades and started to manipulate the map, moving it around, whilst his implants analysed the data, before he focused the map on an area of the ship where one signature was found in a mess hall, with eight signatures in a hallway a couple levels up. It seemed that they were expected, since he was certain that The Colonel was the one in the mess hall, and Meta Team were the ones blocking off the corridor above, meaning he was going to have to split up his forces
You girls will take on Meta Team, stun rounds only. I want them alive, since Jarvis seems intent on destroying everything else. I'll take The Colonel on, understood?
You can count on us!
Sure thing.
Bahamut gave a nod to the girls, before they all took off through the doors as Tacit Ronin deactivated the hologram, keeping close to the girls as they headed along the halway, before taking an access stairway up to the next level, whilst Bahamut remained on the current floor. He encountered minimal resistance, their surprise attack having caught the crew of The Skybreaker off guard, allowing him to quickly make his way to the mess hall where the Colonel was waiting. Bahamut came to a stop in the middle of the doorway into the mess hall, surveying the almost entirely empty room, save for the Colonel and himself, making sure there were no traps that had been laid for him. It was then, that The Colonel threw his arms out at his side, a combat knife gripped firmly in his right hand, as he stared at Bahamut, apparently amused by the man's suspicious attitude
Director Bahamut, nice of you to come. I'm a little surprised you came alone, but all the better...
You've been responsible for enough tragedies as is Colonel! I can't believe you fooled them all into this bloodshed! You knew full well what fate awaited the girls if your plan succeeded, and yet you went ahead with it anyway! All those captains fooled into believing their daughters were dead, by the very man that oversaw their training and conversions into the agents that they are today!
Don't bring that holier than thou art bullshit here Bahamut. You're one of them, and you lead the very agency that they work for. I might have taken them as leverage, but you keep them close at bay, ready to strike.
If I hadn't taken them after your failed project tossed them out, they'd have been killed for certain, but you didn't even bat an eye! You couldn't wait to move on to the Meta Team Project...
You're a bleeding heart Bahamut, guess that was one of the few things they left behind in you... Your words bore me Director, let's finish this! Only one of us will leave here alive!
Fine with me!
Bahamut and The Colonel charge at each other, meeting halfway across the room and exchanging the first blows, as Bahamut blocked the Colonel's opening strike with the knife. The pair grappled for a moment, The Colonel switching his grip on the blade with each strike, whilst Bahamut tried to land a few punches. Knowing nothing was going to change like this, Bahamut backed up a little towards a table, before grabbing one of the abandoned food trays, and using it as a blocking assist. He then tossed the tray at The Colonel, before doing a flip over a table behind him, giving him some space, before he drew forth a pair of his extendable short swords. Play time was over, and The Colonel needed to be taken out fast. The pair faced against one another as they stalked along the length of the table, before coming to the end of it into an open area. They danced for a few moments, blades slicing through the air, before Bahamut managed to land a couple hits upon The Colonel, bringing the man to his knees
Is that all you're got!
Unlike you, I'll make sure they're free...
The Colonel mockingly laughed then, before Bahamut swung the twin blades, freeing the man's head from his shoulders. Bahamut returned the blades to their places on his belt as the body fell over, before he turned and made his way out of the mess hall and up a level, to where Liger and Jaeger teams had been laying in wait, with Tacit Ronin having been projecting the entire conversation and fight to Meta Team. Bahamut moved out into the hallway, in full view of Meta Team, his weapons sheathed, knowing the girls would have a lot of questions for him later
You guys want to fight me? then fine, go ahead, but right now, I'm your only ticket out of here, if Jarvis is set upon the path I think he is... You want answers, then I can give you them. You want freedom, then your best hope is to escape now, with me, and let Jarvis think you perished with this ship. It's your choice...
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Apr 19, 2016 4:56:05 GMT -8
The High Lord Admiral Aiden Kaedaan had waited patiently for an opportunity to present itself, so that he could prove his worth. True enough, he had been given command of the Cinn Ion's most prized vessel, an Eclipse-class Dreadnought by the name of The Ionachta, and with it, command of the Cinn Ion's fleet. But, he wanted to prove he was more than just some arm chair admiral, who was appointed to his position because of his name. Aiden would not abide such impressions. Thus, when information concerning a clone of the man known as Zion Morviael had surfaced, he had set his focus upon tracking the clone down. It was insult enough that the half breed existed to begin with, and spent his every living breath fighting against them. But for a clone to exist, that was something Aiden would not abide.
The moment that the clones whereabouts had been pinpointed, Aiden had order the fleet to hyperspace. The Ionachta was the first vessel to drop drop forth from hyperspace, its viewport quickly filling with the scene of a dozen ARC Hammer class Factory Ships firing upon each other. Four Imperial II class Star Destroyers soon followed, alongside a pair of Victory II class Star Destroyers. Wasting no time, Aiden ordered the assault to begin, with the crew powering up the Axial Superlaser, before the beam of concentrated death tore through a pair of ARC Hammers. If the warring ships had not noticed their new aggressors before, they certainly had now. As the super weapon recharged, turbolaser and ion cannon fire were traded across the void.
Aiden knew they would win this battle with ease, The Ionachta alone had enough firepower to deal with this fleet. But he could prioritize his targets if these fools were smart enough to tell him where his target was. He then opened a priority open comm line to all of the ships present, before his holo image was displayed across all mediums
I am the High Lord Admiral Kaedaan. I offer you a chance at survival. Tell me where the one you know as Bahamut is, and those of you not on his ship, shall live. Disobey, and you shall all die!
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Galdaart Fel
Retired High Councilor
...not hiding anymore
Posts: 1,565
Affiliation: The Unfair Advantage
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Galdaart Fel on Apr 22, 2016 7:06:26 GMT -8
She stopped when he asked, her eyes fixed on a panel of the corridor across from her, slivers of ice blue searching the dingy surface for an answer, as if one would be inscribed there. She breathed out a solemn sigh, resignation in knowing that he grasped the likelihood of the outcome. She turned slowly, her shoulders rolled back as she leveled him with a look. He was staring down the Nether right now, his death assured either way. She blinked a couple times at the floor before she walked over to him, sliding her hands into her front pockets. "Dying for someone or something is a free man's luxury. You've thought yourself immortal much of your life, and now you feel the coming end so you search for meaning. Assets don't get those romantic notions. We are prepared for death because we don't have a life, we are a tool, like any other. I'll die completing my promise. That's all I've got." It's all I've ever had, she thought to herself. You are no 'asset,' soldier. You're my friend. |
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Mel Tervho
The Vegemite Enclave
Posts: 169
Affiliation: Vegemite Enclave
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Mel Tervho on May 16, 2016 10:18:56 GMT -8
Brief flits of freedom, treasured moments when she was not leashed by someone to be used how they saw fit. Those small little windows were the only times in her adult life where she took a stand for herself, or for someone else. It was the thing that made her feel as if she was a person and that the choices she made mattered. People had power over you if you let them. If you were willing to die for that chance of freedom, then the bonds cease to exist.
That's about where Mel was now. She could have cared less about the rest of the passengers. Let them twist. Mel had murdered before on the orders of a government entity. Who was to say there was a greater good at work? Who would mourn these lost souls on this ship?
When Fel pulled her into a hug, she froze, her posture rigid for a moment until she slumped in his arms. She had not allowed him to touch her, even though she had been playing his medic these last few weeks. The act made her think of Taung, his people and the way they had accepted her. She sighed as she returned the gesture, letting her arms cradle his wasted frame, before she pulled back and nodded.
"Fine, then friend it is, but that doesn't change the odds. There's no way this is gonna be easy. Just, you know. Keep breathing until I get you where you're supposed to go."
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