Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jul 7, 2013 14:00:43 GMT -8
I turned and sailed in its wake, catching up I held onto it with my left hand and helped steer it with minimal firing of the suits thrusters, it seemed to take a life time to get the carbonite block on-board but in reality it was only moments. I breathed a sigh of relief once I and the block were on board and the carbonite block had touched down with a resounding thump following depressurization.
I snapped open the seal of my suit and removed the gloves so I could work more easily. Wiping away the ice; which in the warmth of the vessel had nearly evaporated I analyzed the controls, the signals seemed to have dipped further and I had no time and no option but to act, and to hope. I turned the dial on the panel and thumbed the green button. The panel made a powering down sound and then the whole block began to pulse as effectively the being within was defrosted, the carbonite glowing red to white hot as it evaporated. *
I fling up my upper body from the encasement and look straight ahead not seeing anything around my peripherals out of straight anxiety and fear, I was momentarily stuck in a translucent hyperspace shock like sensation as I couldn't use my eyes in the first place due to the carbonite hibernation. My screams seemed to echo in my own mind with hardly any reply getting through, when would this torment end? Had the others made it? Feeling like I was blind was a new sensation that was all but scary upon itself."Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I can't see! Where am I? Who is there?" I say in a moderately loud tone my heart pounding practically out of my chest, my hearing still ringing from explosions hours earlier.
I turned to her and drew upon the well of comfort from within, that steadfast castle atop its solitary rock, the world could fall around it, but the castle would remain; I was that castle.
The force flooded every fiber of my being and I sent a strong sens of calm, comfort and assurance; "You are safe, and shall not come to harm." That was what I envisioned in my thoughts and I empowered the force with the semblance of my feelings and echoed them with words. Knowing she was afraid and disorientated I kept the details short and concise.*"My name is Steffo Rancis, I am a Jedi Knight, you have been frozen in carbonite for some time, but you are safe now." *I nodded, albeit she could not see and squeezed my hand gently upon her shoulder, I waited for her to adjust, I knew that the initial sickness would clear in a few minutes, but the sense of disorientation and loss of sight could last a good few more hours.**Ascertaining that her condition was as stable as possible; my my other concern was to return to the flight deck less we run amok with an asteroid and that be the end of both of us, as such I would aim to move her to the cockpit as soon as she were able and set a safe course for our speedy return so I could make good on her safety and report back to Adi on these very strange events.* |
|
|
|
Post by Jedi Knight Mahir on Jul 14, 2013 13:18:57 GMT -8
With a bright flash of light an old 3-Z light freighter emerges from hyperspace not far from the planet Carida. The auto pilot moves the ship into a stable orbit of the planet, as the pilot is asleep in his cabin. Apparently the cabin's beside intercomm unit was dead, as it failed to give the usual five minute warning before exiting hyperspace. The ships's life support was also fairly spotty, its temperature control had failed a few hours into the trip, which meant that heat from the engine room slowly seeped into the rest of the ship, bringing the temp up to a current reading of 107 degrees. Thankfully the air scrubbers still worked, which kept the humidity down.
Unfortunately the high temperature would keep the reptilian Stenax pilot asleep, or at the least very groggy, until the temperature cooled significantly. This meant the ship was stuck in orbit unless its only other occupant, Casey, could either repair the life support system, or land the ship and open the vents to bring fresh air into the ship. She might also be able to engage the X-83's life support systems and task it with cooling the air, though it would be a very inefficient way of cooling the air it would work so long as the 3-Z's engines stayed idle.
The pilot's cabin door was unlocked and a metal toolbox could be found in the engine room.
|
|
Bloodshot
Member
Posts: 311
Affiliation: Chaos and credits, baby.
|
Post by Bloodshot on Jul 15, 2013 16:43:41 GMT -8
Well frak.
When the Namana-class light cruiser had made the shift from hyperspace to realspace, the last thing Bloodshot had been expecting to see in orbit over his little stash planet was a republic fleet. What the hell are they doing here? Shouldn't they be out fighting the mandos instead of guarding some worthless rock in the middle of nowhere? Worthless to anyone but him, at least. Ever since the empire fell, he'd been using this planet and its derelict training base as a stash for the weapons and ammunition his small force of mercenaries couldn't carry with them, returning to restock whenever they started running low. What are the odds that such an occurrence would coincide so perfectly with a gathering of republic forces on the one planet in the galaxy that the mercenary needed access to right now? Pretty frakkin' good, apparently.
If they hail us, send the privateer ID codes and let them know we're just here for supplies.
The comm officer nodded as Bloodshot turned and left, then began prepping the necessary credentials. They were legitimate privateer credentials and would be recognized as valid by nearly every civilized galactic power, so he had little fear of being fired upon outright. They would open communication and ask their questions, and if the comms officer couldn't talk his way into staying in orbit, he would at least buy them enough time to get to the surface. They could meet up later at a rendezvous outside the system if it came to that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Is it ready?
At the sound of his master's mechanized voice, filtered as it was through his mask's systems, the Bith looked up from the workbench he was leaning over and placed the contraption he'd been studying gently back on its surface.
"Oh! Hello and greetings sir! It has indeed been manufactured and personalized to your exact specifications, and the necessary modifications to your primary mask have been made and tested. Everything is working perfectly. Or at least as perfectly as anything can be in a universe..."
That's enough, Misk. Thank you.
Bloodshot raised a hand as he spoke, cutting the excitable Bith off before he could really get going.
"Yes sir. Of course sir. Sorry sir."
The mercenary's lip twitched in annoyance every time the Bith said "sir", but he'd long ago proven that telling the man to stop using the title was a fruitless effort. He'd received the slave as payment from a Hutt for a job he'd performed especially well on, and only afterward had realized the true value of the being. He was, quite simply, a bonafide technical genius. Not only had he pointed out flaws in the design of nearly all of Bloodshot's personal weapons, and then fixed them, but he'd spent nearly three months just wandering around the ship figuring out a myriad of ways he could make it better. As a result, the ship now performed roughly seven percent better on the whole than a stock model, in everything from engines to weapons to shields to sensors. They hadn't even needed new hardware, he'd just optimized power flow and written updated software modules to coax maximum performance out of every system. If Bloodshot had to put up with an annoying habit every now and again, that was a small price to pay for the benefits this Bith offered.
"So where is it?"
"Ah! Yes, right over here."
The Bith moved with a gait that seemed somehow both clumsy and precise at the same time, and made his way to a nearly two meter tall humanoid shape covered by a thin cloth.
"I didn't want it to catch any dust, you undestand."
Bloodshot largely ignored his explanation for the cloth covering as he tugged on it and it slid easily off the form standing before him. It was of a height with the mercenary himself, and its appearance was not far removed from the armor he currently wore, save that it offered greater coverage and the pieces were obviously connected to each other, not just the being that would wear them.
Specs?
The Bith's cheek-flaps rippled, an expression that Bloodshot had learned was akin to a smile of anticipation, and he stepped forward to point out each feature as it was listed.
"Oh, I am quite certain you will be pleased! The armor plating is composed of a compound known as stygian-triprismatic polymer and is nearly twice as durable as your old armor, as well as being reinforced against electromagnetic and ion weaponry. The shield unit has also been similarly enhanced, owing to the increase in available power being provided by five rylith power cells, and can now withstand several strikes from a blaster cannon! Though in truth, I was hesitant to test it at first."
He caressed the armor almost lovingly, no doubt recalling his worry in the moments before the test over whether it would survive or not.
"In addition to the deflector shielding, I was also able to locate and incorporate an electrical capacitance shield that will feed any incoming electrical damage directly into recharging the power cells! You were most astute to request such an addition, as I doubt I would have thought of it myself."
Finally. It's about time I found a way to use that cursed sith lightning against them. He'd been looking for something like that since his predecessor had been killed by the stuff, and had been beginning to lose hope that he would ever find it.
"Should the power cells already be fully charged when electrical damage is received, the incoming energy will instead be diverted to the on-board weapon capacitors for use in their next attack. The weapons themselves are a pair of heat beams that deploy above each shoulder. They're an ancient technology, but when updated with modern technological breakthroughs are still exceedingly useful. A normal full-power beam is capable of slicing quickly through durasteel, and when supplemented by extra energy from their onboard capacitors, they are easily capable of reaching and even exceeding the cutting potential of a lightsaber."
Bloodshot's eyebrows rose at that, the Bith's nonchalant delivery of the specification belying the rather significant importance of the information. More cutting power than a lightsaber? What the hell did those things run on?
"Their effective range varies based on output, but in general a full-power beam will remain ninety-seven percent viable at a distance of fifty meters, and an overcharged beam for a significantly greater distance. I was able to increase output by nearly three hundred percent before the weapon began to melt, and after exchanging durasteel for dallorian alloy safe output levels were increased to nearly one thousand percent for a period of ten seconds. A truly remarkable cutting implement, if I do say so myself."
He would have whistled beneath his mask if he'd been the sort of man to do that, but as it was he just nodded his head in affirmation before speaking.
And for melee?
"Ah yes! Melee! I believe that category is equally exciting! I began with the servos and frame utilized in the notable AV-1s power armor and fine-tuned them for speed, agility, and silent operation as you requested, while also maintaining the strength enhancement. Truly a pristine example of powered armor. The frame itself is constructed of high-grade alusteel, and is capable of supporting weights in excess of two metric tonnes before structural integrity is compromised, though I suspect the servos would burn out long before then so I strongly recommend against attempting to lift such weights."
The bith shivered, presumably due to the thought of being trapped underneath a two-tonne weight, then continued.
"For a more direct offensive option, the bracers over each forearm contain a ten inch vibroblade equipped with ultrasonic vibration generators and an ionite alloy edge, allowing you to quickly disable mechanical opponents. Due to the use of cortosis weave in their construction, they are also capable of withstanding a blow from a lightsaber should that be required."
Nice. Misk really knows his stuff.
What about weight?
"The suit weighs a total of twenty-seven point two kilograms, only seven point two kilograms heavier than your current armor, and also possesses a series of repulsor units that have been streamlined in order to reduce excess bulk, as per your request. They allow for complete aerial maneuverability and have a maximum speed of forty kilometers per hour. The overall weight of the armor is such that maneuverability should not be especially compromised even if the powered servos and repulsors should fail, though the three primary power cells are capable of operating all non-weapon and non-shield systems for a period of thirty six hours, including the on-board life support, so I do not foresee that becoming an issue."
Alright. Anything else I should know before putting it on?
The bith looked thoughtful for a moment as Bloodshot approached the armor and ran a hand across the chestplate.
"Hmm... The control system is a one-way neural interface, so the armor will recieve commands as you think them, but cannot provide direct feedback. This prevents your mind from becoming overwhelmed, but you will be forced to rely on more traditional readouts. I have also taken the liberty of upgrading your mask's imaging systems and allowing it to interface with the armor's own sensors. You will be far more aware of the battlefield in this armor than you are in the suit you currently wear."
Sounds like fun. Lets try this thing on.
Reaching for the clasps that held his current armor in place, he began to remove it piece by piece until he stood in nothing but a thinsuit and his mask, then reached up and gripped his mask too as it split apart at the seam and pulled it off his head. The unfiltered air scratched at his throat as he inhaled, threatening to turn his voice hoarse if he kept the mask off for too long, and he quickly replaced the stand-in mask with the original one that had been topping the new suit of armor. It's good to have you back.
The mask was comforting and familiar as he lowered it over his unnaturally pale skin and it sealed around his head, yet he could feel the differences almost immediately. The cold contact points of the neural interface prodded his scalp before adjusting to the contours and settling into a more comfortable position, and the room around him seemed to come alive as his HUD cycled through its new vision modes. Thermal, ultraviolet (a wholly unnecessary modification, though the bith had no prior way of knowing that), and even electromagnetic, as well as an electro-telescopic zoom feature and a three hundred and sixty degree sensor band. Very, very nice indeed. The plethora of new information would take some getting used to, but he had no doubt he would adjust quickly.
The armor itself followed the mask, the torso plating first followed by each limb as they locked together with hisses and whines and the suit eventually hummed to life. It was surprisingly light, even before the servos engaged, and it was only slightly bulkier than his previous armor, something that Bloodshot had been adamant about when he proposed the idea to Misk two months ago. He was all for being well-protected, but that couldn't come at the expense of speed and maneuverability, and the bith had managed to accomplish all of his expectations. Let's see what you can do. He spun in place and drove a fist into the wall behind him, leaving a small knuckle-shaped crater in the durasteel when he pulled his hand away. Upon examination of the gauntlet, he couldn't even find a scratch.
I'm impressed Misk. Excellent work. I look forward to testing it in combat.
Unfortunately, that was a test that would come far sooner than he expected.
|
|
Rayvin Axiom
Member
currently at work, will be on and off afk throughout the day
Posts: 15 
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Rayvin Axiom on Jul 16, 2013 19:06:21 GMT -8
Steffo:
*I rest my hand upon her right shoulder, simultaneously comforting and also restraining her from head butting me as the lone young female occupant lurches forward and lets loose a deafening scream, I winced and turned away feeling the ripples writhe through the force, her pain, her discomfort, her panic.*
"My name is Steffo Rancis, I am a Jedi Knight, you have been frozen in carbonite for some time, but you are safe now."
*I nodded, albeit she could not see and squeezed my hand gently upon her shoulder, I waited for her to adjust, I knew that the initial sickness would clear in a few minutes, but the sense of disorientation and loss of sight could last a good few more hours.*
"Are you able to stand?"
*Ascertaining that her condition was as stable as possible; my my other concern was to return to the flight deck less we run amok with an asteroid and that be the end of both of us, as such I would aim to move her to the cockpit as soon as she were able and set a safe course for our speedy return so I could make good on her safety and report back to Adi on these very strange events.*
Rayvin:
*It was all like a feeling of being lost within yourself and I could not ascertain my place in time.*
"Yes Jedi Knight Rancis, yes I think I can manage to stable myself."
*I manage to stable myself as he serves as a guiding hand to my disorientated and stand up to my feet slowly and then he mentions heading back tot he cockpit and I allow him to guide my fragile state which if he were an evil spirit could have very easily taken advantage of my current predicament. We get tot the cockpit and he sits me down gently in the co-pilots seat I ask him as he mans the throttle and stick again..*
"Where am I, where are we?"
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jul 17, 2013 13:48:56 GMT -8
*I lifted my hand from her shoulder and rose holding out my hand to accept hers and pull it off her feet, then placed my arm supporting her beneath her armpit as I guided her to the cockpit and seating her in the vacant seat next to mine. I eyed her for a moment with a curious gaze and stroked my bearded chin.
I wondered how long she had been in stasis for, perhaps months, maybe years, a long time, and much could have changed in her apparent absence from the known universe. From her guise I had already gathered she wore the semblance of a garb of a Jedi, an older uniform perhaps, but that was hard to tell due to the style choices some chose and I had seen similar styles warn although usually by those who wished to reflect upon the past glories of our Order.
I turned my attention to the viewport and spiraled the A24 around a spinning asteroid and then straightened her up again and moved the throttle node to three quarter power; now as we moved out of the gathered tumble of larger rocks.
I turned to her as she asked two very reasonable questions, I was uncertain as to what exactly she meant so I once again I kept the responses simple and to the here and now."Currently you are aboard a scout vessel returning to Carrida where a group of Jedi are gathered, there she is." *I tapped the transparisteel viewport with an extended index finger indicating Carrida which loomed ever the larger the closer the vessel drew, after I had checked the read outs and upon seeing the vessel was now clear she accelerated beautifully and advanced upon Carrida in a short space of time.
I pinged a scrambled short wave message to the Republic base expecting no reply and not needing one, I had already carried out this run once before and no confirmation was necessary. Pushing forward on the stick the craft jostled as it pushed through into the safety of the atmosphere of Carrida.*
|
|
Bloodshot
Member
Posts: 311
Affiliation: Chaos and credits, baby.
|
Post by Bloodshot on Jul 17, 2013 21:27:05 GMT -8
T'mir! Where do we stand?
The grizzled old Farghul turned to regard Bloodshot as he entered the hangar, the iris of his mechanical right eye constricting as it focused on the mercenary commander. The feline was tall, nearly as tall as the Umbaran, and his tawny fur had begun to fade to gray with age where it hadn't already turned white atop his varied assortment of scars.
"We're doin' well 'nuff. Can't say I've got any sort o' high hopes fer this new lot though. They'd get cut t'bits on anythin' bigger'n a bantha. A sorry sight if e'er there were one."
That's what this training mission was for.
The seasoned mercenary didn't miss the subtle cue in the Umbaran's statement.
"Was, eh? Somethin' yer not tellin' me?"
Bloodshot crossed his arms over his chest and his inexpressive mask somehow managed to become grim as his voice all but growled out through the synthesizers.
There's a republic fleet that beat us to it.
"FRAK!"
He growled then spat on the deck in disdain.
"Do ye know why?"
If I was clever enough to know that, I'd be a much wealthier man.
"Aye, fair 'nuff. Watcha wanna do?"
We continue as planned, but scrap the training ammo. If we run into trouble, I want these men shooting something that can kill it.
"Ye sure? They're like as not t' shoot their own feet off if ye let 'em."
Then don't let them. We need the supplies down there. the shuttles will get us in undetected. We just need to avoid whatever boots they have on the ground.
"Whate'er ye say. We'll be ready."
Bloodshot nodded as his captain turned back to the aforementioned "new lot", who were in fact a great deal more experienced than the Farghul gave them credit for. Every one of them had been on no less than two missions with the company, and none had been hired without at least ten years experience before that. If I'm gonna spend twenty thousand creds kitting out a soldier, I want to know he's frakkin' well worth it. And they were. Each man his eye fell upon clearly knew how to handle every weapon he had on him, from the DC-15A riflemen to the PLX-4 rocket infantry. All were well beyond the point of needing more training in their areas of expertise, and it was only T'mir's relentless quest for perfection that kept them from realizing it. If they actually listened to what he'd been yelling at them since the day they arrived, they'd all think they were about as useful as a Bull Rancor in a microscience lab.
Turning away from the commotion of preparation, Bloodshot stepped onto one of the four flat black Gamma-class assault shuttles they would be using for the mission to inform the pilots of the change in plans. Each shuttle had been modified to carry over twice the number of troops it normally could, a feat achieved by removing the space-consuming launch tubes, and had also received a vanish 2 sensor mask, engine baffling, and a coating of shadowskin finish to prevent detection on approach to unsuspecting victims. And well worth the cost, I might add. Especially now.
Once the preparations were finished the shuttles lifted off and departed the hangar, hidden from the view of the republic fleet by the larger mass of the Namana-class light cruiser as they did so, then made their way toward the night side of the planet and the old republic training facility they would find there. If these republic freaks stole my cache...
|
|
|
|
Post by Alkor Centaris on Jul 21, 2013 5:05:19 GMT -8
Local Time 0250, geosynchronous orbit over the training facility, JRTS "Lariat"
Alkor had, for the better part, extricated the Patrol fleet and it's contingent from Ryloth, and moved his hand over Cardia, petitioning Ornix to put in transfer papers and have the fleet properly tranferred. Jefra now sat, going over the paperwork he had recieved back from command, and cursed silently at his ill luck. All of the paperwork seemed to fall in his lap instead of the newly appointed Watchman. How convenient for Alkor Centaris.
Still, not all was bad about these modified conditions. Ryloth was far too remote for proper leave to take him anywhere civilised. At least Cardia was within a jump of the Core, and he could pick up human women or REAL alcohol, now. Bah! What was he thinking? He barely had enough time to BE thinking, let alone thinking about leaves of absence. Perhaps, he mused, he had entered the wrong career.
But it was to late now- nearly his thirties, Ornix was a simple man, who lived for naval combat (when he could arse it to be joined) and the thrill of living on the edge. Not that paperwork really had much of an edge- OW! Well, perhaps it did. Sucking his finger now in futility, for want of the ability to actually abate the pain from the papercut, Jefra switched off the glowlamp on his desk and leaned back in his chair.
Soon, maybe, there would be a real adventure. But for now, there was a Patrol fleet defending Cardia, for what little that would matter in the face of a full scale Mandalorian assault fleet. Still, it was a means of defense the Jedi would otherwise not have had. And it would give them time and warning to scramble were something actually to happen. Maybe that Centaris fellow wasn't as dim as he wanted people to believe.
Or maybe, Ornix was just tired. Yes, that was most likely it.
And he rolled over, pasing out immediately.
|
|
Miras
Member
Posts: 91 
Affiliation: Watchmen
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Miras on Jul 29, 2013 12:00:54 GMT -8
Miras exhaled a sigh of relief as the white tunnel of hyperspace dissolved into individual pinpricks of light. Below him and a few hundred kilometers away Carida hung suspended like a muddy bauble. Flipping off the warning klaxon that had sounded when he entered realspace, the Padawan massaged the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb as his shoulders slumped wearily. He was a fair pilot, and the X-83 TwinTail Adieumus had outfitted him with was a great ship- the best he'd flown, in fact- but the Colonies were a long way from Coruscant: way too long to be strapped into the cockpit of a fighter.
Sleep had been impossible, so there had been nothing to do but think. About his new Master and the training he was going to receive with the rest of the Watchmen, about the Mandalorians and the war...for all he knew he could be standing face to visor with one of the iron-clad warriors within a month. The Jedi supposed that should scare him, but all he could manage was a kind of hollow interest. It was much the same with his new appointment as a Padawan. The bruises beneath his eyes were darker now, his skin carrying a slight pallor. Whether Miras was strapped into the cockpit of a fighter or in a comfortable bed, sleep rarely visited him.
He realized he'd been staring into space- literally and figuratively- with a start, and gave himself a small shake. After a glance at the Republic fleet hanging over the planet, Miras activated his I.D. transponder to mark himself as a member of the Order, and began his descent towards the planet. It was doubtful the fleet would hail him, and unless they did he would continue planet-side to the coordinates Adieumus had given him back on Coruscant. The training facility that was to become his new home.
Wondering not for the first time what he'd gotten himself into, Miras increased power to the thrusters and blasted down towards the planet.
|
|
|
|
Post by Jedi Knight Mahir on Aug 6, 2013 10:40:54 GMT -8
With a bright flash of light an old 3-Z light freighter emerges from hyperspace not far from the planet Carida. The auto pilot moves the ship into a stable orbit of the planet, as the pilot is asleep in his cabin. Apparently the cabin's beside intercomm unit was dead, as it failed to give the usual five minute warning before exiting hyperspace. The ships's life support was also fairly spotty, its temperature control had failed a few hours into the trip, which meant that heat from the engine room slowly seeped into the rest of the ship, bringing the temp up to a current reading of 107 degrees. Thankfully the air scrubbers still worked, which kept the humidity down.
Unfortunately the high temperature would keep the reptilian Stenax pilot asleep, or at the least very groggy, until the temperature cooled significantly. This meant the ship was stuck in orbit unless its only other occupant, Casey, could either repair the life support system, or land the ship and open the vents to bring fresh air into the ship. She might also be able to engage the X-83's life support systems and task it with cooling the air, though it would be a very inefficient way of cooling the air it would work so long as the 3-Z's engines stayed idle.
The pilot's cabin door was unlocked and a metal toolbox could be found in the engine room. |
|
Ishmael
Member
Posts: 134
Affiliation: The Way of Lapay
|
Post by Ishmael on Aug 7, 2013 10:21:56 GMT -8
*The Nebulon-B frigate "Vigilance" exploded into realspace a few hundred kilometers from the edge of Carida's gravitational orbit. The bridge was a hive of activity, with communications officers activating the vessel's ID transponders as friendly and setting about the task of opening a comm channel with the fleet already patrolling the planet. Captain Isaac Wessel stood watching his men working frantically at rows of glowing monitors, hands clasped firmly behind his back. There assignment was to rendezvous with Watchman Centaris' fleet- which had apparently suffered heavy losses in a pirate raid over Ryloth. The official parameters of the mission were to deliver replacements for the lost crew of the "Lariat", but Isaac intended to help in whatever way he could.*
"Kriffing pirates," *The Captain cursed bitterly, then raised his voice.* "Alright, let's proceed at a quarter speed; no sense in rushing a jumpy patrol. And get that comm channel open."
*A chorus of affirmatives rose from the navigations officers, but no one looked away from their flickering monitors. That was good; Isaac liked a focused crew. Approaching the frigate's forward viewport, the tall, spindly Duros watched the planet of Carida grow larger through the transparisteel.*
*The replacements were currently milling about the hangar of the "Vigilance", awaiting orders to board the transports that would take them to their new post. Marines, engineers, support staff, and even a few medics chatted amiably among themselves or checked through their equipment to reassure themselves they hadn't left anything behind. Away from the group a marine was having a heated argument with his sergeant about just why he wasn't allowed to carry thermal detonators on his bandoleer.*
*Private Jerec Maven sat upon a munitions crate with his blaster rifle across his thighs, staring at his feet. He hadn't said more than a few words to anyone since they'd stopped to resupply and refuel. Of course, that wasn't abnormal: Jerec was grim, unsmiling, and serious. The rest of his unit gave him a wide berth on the best of days, and this was not the best of days to be Private Maven. It was obvious he'd picked up some sort of virus when they'd been planetside, but when one of the medics had offered to take a look he'd been violently rebuffed. His eyes were bright with fever and sweat shone on his forehead under the harsh overhead lights. Still, he didn't seem affected by it or even like he noticed it.*
*The newly opened comm channel crackled with static before fully connecting. Isaac took the mic and cleared his throat.*
[/span][/ul][/font]
|
|
|
|
Post by Alkor Centaris on Aug 7, 2013 11:31:43 GMT -8
::Vigilance, you have clearance to dock with the Lariat, prioritized by Watchman Centaris himself several minutes ago. It appears you were expected. I am Jefra Ornix, your liaison for the time being. Please, enjoy your stay- I will be contacting Alkor to inform him of your arrival presently.::
Ornix bit his tongue, and pushed it into the side of his cheek. Giving a clearance like that at the last minute? Without telling anyone? What was Alkor on about? Still, he keyed in the message to the Watchman's datapad, which would ring any moment to inform Alkor of the new arrivals.
Looking ovwr the ship's designation and it's current orders in the Republic database, Ornix warily decided that the newcomers checked out, and went back to attending his paperwork. Bloody Jedi. Never telling anyone anything...
|
|
Ishmael
Member
Posts: 134
Affiliation: The Way of Lapay
|
Post by Ishmael on Aug 9, 2013 17:22:06 GMT -8
[/i] Stand by."[/span][/ul] *The orders came to load the transports and the hangar became a hive of frenzied activity. Jerec slid the strap of his rifle overs his shoulder and joined the line of marines trekking up the boarding ramps. Stifling a cough, he put on his helmet and stepped into the belly of the gunship, grabbing one of the bars with one hand as the rest of his platoon boarded. Across the hangar he could see troopers filing up into the other transport. Then the ramp raised and slammed shut with a clank, and the marines were left in silence, their armor bathed in bloody shadows by the ship's dim lighting.*
*Isaac watched the transports streak across the space between the 'Vigilance' and the 'Lariat'. When they were nearly there he turned on his heel and headed for the turbolift.*[/font] |
|
|
|
Post by Alkor Centaris on Aug 13, 2013 18:50:04 GMT -8
::Maintain present course and speed; initiating boarding protocols now. Welcome to Carida, boys. Sit tight, we're still awaiting new orders.::
Watching from the bridge now, having clothed and made his way to take the helm, Ornix folded his arms neatly and let out a long breath, his lips pressing into a thin line. He could hear the sound of codes being transmitted back and forth in the distance, and the whirring of gears and sighing of metal as the two ships docked with one another, and a safe mode of transitionary movement for the new crewmen was established.
Cameras leveled on the entry causeway, allowing them to scope out the newcomers and get a feel for their dispositions. Two crewmen were dispatched to greet them, and Ornix's voice carried through the loudspeaker, offering them standard indoctrination. Damn, but he hated working under Jedi...
|
|
|
|
Post by Axyl Darian Centaris on Aug 14, 2013 20:28:07 GMT -8
Axyl strolled onto the bridge from whichever corner or the ship he'd decided to hole himself up in, coming to a halt next to Ornix.
"The night tends to be all encompassing, Captain."
Axyl pulled the Republic Officer uniform around, trying to make it comfortable. He turned his head to the man as he followed up with his cipher.
"Can you run from it?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Alkor Centaris on Aug 14, 2013 21:36:08 GMT -8
"Night falls," came the even voiced reply, Ornix's eyes never leaving the screen in front of him as he addressed Axyl. His face had been annoyed, but all traces of that were gone now, a marked seriousness overlapping his attentiveness. As he slowly rose, he faced the other uniformed man and gave a curt salute. "and all we can do is watch."
He slid to one side to allow Axyl to see the holoprojection of the newcomers from the resupply ship, as had been planned. All of the Kaminoan clones that Alkor had ordered were being delivered on time. And Ornix opened the communications with the Watchman directly.
::Watchman Centaris, the resupplying is underway. The Corporal would like a word, if it pleases you?"::
::It does. What news, Corporal?":: Alkor spoke with a certain calmness as he addressed Axyl as nonchalantly as possible; getting the man this far without incident had been struggle enough. Now, to see if it had been worthwhile...
|
|
|
|
Post by Axyl Darian Centaris on Aug 14, 2013 21:46:32 GMT -8
Axyl craned his neck to the right, forcing a sickening crack from the vertebrae as he focused on the projection. His brother's voice came clearly through the communication device, and his blood boiled. He straightened his head and looked on, a bloodlust building in him. A smile came to his face and he spoke to the only man he considered equal.
:: Good evening, Watchman. All goes well, the transport is currently underway.::
Axyl spoke with a voice of pleasure, almost enough to give himself away. Axyl would not do with equality. Someone must be better, of course. But only time would tell that tale, however impatient its characters.
:: How is your end of things? ::
|
|
|
|
Post by Alkor Centaris on Aug 14, 2013 22:02:03 GMT -8
::The Jedi remain in waiting, as anticipated. Notably, however, there have been several recent transmissions recieved from Republic Intelligence of... intrigue."::
Alkor's voice hinted at both humor, lost on anyone but himself, and consideration. ::The Watch Lead has decided that I will accompany him to warn several planets along the hyperspace lanes. Most immediately, Corellia.::
Axyl might feel a strange sensation as Alkor carefully stroked his mind. ::Corellia.::
|
|
|
|
Post by Axyl Darian Centaris on Aug 14, 2013 22:13:26 GMT -8
Axyl licked his lips. Certainly by now Ornix would have given him a strange look, and for that Axyl would cut his tongue out and have a hearty laugh about it. But this man was a 'friend' or some such, and Alkor wanted him alive. But Axyl certainly enjoyed this tidbit of information. A trip home would be nice this time of year.
Axyl struggled to contain the inner beast. It had taken him a grueling amount of training to maintain composure at this level. :: I see. And what of the Lariat and her newly acquired cargo? ::
|
|
|
|
Post by Alkor Centaris on Aug 14, 2013 23:09:45 GMT -8
::The Lariat and her constituents will make the transition with us, of course. I've made the necessary modifications and taken many strides to assure complete assimilation to the parameters of our directive. These troops and their arms are of the highest caliber- I settled for nothing less in the negotiations, and spent a handsome amount of coin appropriating the proper channels. Though all of that must sound like boring Jedi rhetoric to you, hmmm?::
Alkor's plain speech confirmed everything was, and would continue to be in working order. ::Commander Ornix himself has been conditioned as well, you may be surprised to learn. He was less than receptive at first- ludicrous talk of leave and drink and fornication- but obviously, a man of finer tastes can be persuaded, if you know the proper incentives.::
He had done a great deal of homework on Ornix to ensure the man would further cooperate- a wife and son back home, neither of which ever need learn of his distasteful habits while on duty. Neither of whom needed to see the monster all men became when their basest humanity took root. Alkor had found in Ornix a capable creature, and one who's service would be most devout.
::You will find that there are more than a few uncooperative gentlemen and ladies still aboard the Lariat. I task you forthwith to seek them out and take care of the issue. Oh, and Corporal?:: Alkor said, a charming rise in his voice accompanying the question, just before a very flat statement followed: ::Do it quietly.::
|
|
|
|
Post by Axyl Darian Centaris on Aug 19, 2013 14:08:20 GMT -8
Axyl smiled. Yes, he'd been given a task that made him very happy. A task he enjoyed more than most men enjoyed women. He would kill anyone that would get in their way, and he'd make an absolute example out of them.
:: This was a good talk, Watchmen. Have a nice day, will you? :: Axyl shut off the communications panel. Even if it were powered back on, it would take at least a minute or two to send a message. He also made sure to turn on the short range jamming device, to make sure no messages got out of the ship.
"Captain, if anyone but myself attempts to send a message, shoot them. But try not to kill him, that's for me to do."
Axyl walked down the main corridor of the ship, twirling his light sabers in either hand.
"Attention crew mates!" He yelled, causing quite a stir. "I'd like you all to come to the main corridor, I have a bit of an announcement for you all." The message made it's way down the line, and eventually everyone had arrived. Several hundred men and woman stood in formation, staring at Axyl.
"I'd like you all to answer me a question. Who of you has absolute, undying loyalty to your Captain?"
Every hand went up in salute, with a confirming 'Yes sir'.
"Good, good. Then I'm sure you all trust his judgement... You have all been kept in the dark until now, about me. I am not of your Jedi."
Several of the crew looked around uncomfortably. A few uncrossed their arms and rested them on sidearms. Axyl's blood screamed for murder. "I am of the dark, and we are taking from the light. If any of you have a problem with this, I'm right here. Speak now, or live a longer life."
One man spoke up, with a blaster. It's just the kind of objection Axyl wanted. He jumped over the crowd at the man, sending his next few shots flying into the ceiling with spinning light sabers. He landed in front of the shooter, stabbing both sabers through his chest, pushing them out his sides. He would be dead in just a few moments, gasping his last few breaths into lungs that weren't there.
"You see my strength now. If any of you betray me, and in turn your captain, I can promise that your fate will be much more painful. Remain loyal as nothing but crew members, and you will live your lives just as you were before."
Axyl surveyed the crew once more. The dead silence was irritating, and the hum of his blades resonated with his blood. They all looked at him, some accusing, some afraid.
"Consider yourselves drafted. You will be paid, quite probably more so than before. Back to your stations."
Axyl returned to the bridge, addressing the captain. "You and I are the only ones authorized to use communications."
He turned on the panel once more, but left the jammer on. "Keep the jammer working. We will soon find out who on this ship we cannot trust."
Without another word, Axyl returned to his quarters, trying desperately to maintain composure just a while longer. There would be a bloodbath soon, and he would be at the center.
|
|
