Corr
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Post by Corr on May 30, 2013 9:30:44 GMT -8
On board the Concordian flagship, "Ori'gehaat'ik" (Private Hangar)...
The woman's indignant diatribe echoed around the small hangar, bringing Corr up short in his menacing advance. The words, uttered in haphazard but understandable Mando'a, spouted talk of honour and pride. This from a mechanic? His face flushed with ange though a part of him found it rather amusing, endearing even, that this slip of a girl would get so fired up about her work that she would challenge him with bravado that was admirable, if a little stupid.
She was in his face now, dictating the terms of the job to him as if she had even the slightest control over her circumstances. The eys behind the visor went flat and his entire posture changed to one of impending violence. That he could transform from passive to aggressive quickly was no big thing. What WAS rather miraculous was the way he could portray his altered mood, flashes of emotion even, on his supposedly blank faceplate. It seemed to move and writhe even as she looked into it, edges rising while the middle dipped, seemingly forming a savage frown. Did it actually change or was the set of the shoulders, the stance of his legs, the tilt of his head that did it?
I'll let you decide if it really is his face and keep my colleague guessing I think...
A low growl formed again from the faceless face seeming to be born about several decks below where they now stood, and snarling up from the floor to throw sonic daggers in Alena's face. His hand came up as if to strike her, the size on the massive Beskar-clad paw looking as if it would splat her head into a graphic spray of claret and chalk. The hand came up menacingly, the huge armoured titan looming over the girl. The only thing missing was the flash of lightning and the wrath of the Gods. A light fitting flickered and flashed overhead, casting shadows over the visored head, eerily staining the grey-blue with darker splashes. There. Improvised like a boss!
The hand snapped into a fist with the crack of dhoom and the entire ship, somehow sensing the impending explosion, all puckered up their arse-holes as they braced...
A Horrible Sound Suddenly Intruded On The Situation, eminating from Corr's raised hand. To be precise it came from the gauntlet and the comm situated there. The keening tune seemed to freeze Corr in his tracks, turning him into a looming Beskar statue as the sound raged at full volume through his buy'ce literally paralysing the mans mind with its fucked-up keening.Shi... vaabir iba'gar copaani, cyar'ika.{Just... do what you can, sweetheart.}He managed to utter the words to her as he scrambled with his gauntlet to kill the awful noise, finally getting it shut down and activating the incoming transmission. Gathos' voice sounded in his ear as he waved the cheeky little tart off, indicating she should get back to work."Nice one, Corr. Told her..." He thought to himself ruefully as Gathos informed him of an incoming transmission from the planet. With a grunt he activated the channel and growled out a question...Me'copaani?{What?}Ashrah's vice sounded loud and clear in his head, the low-pitched growl easily recognisable, the weary droop to each syllable not so familiar.::Corr. How do we fare up there? They killed you yet?:: ::Anders boys are helping Duke set up the kitchen and half of them are doing patrol and getting set to clear the Temple. I am dragging a dead Jedi around the jungle until I get a chance to drop his big ugly ass off at the Praxeum as a 'gift'. Duke killed a howler with his bare hands, I made friends with Sheva and Sherer is as excited as always. Pretty typical Australis family get together. How long til we get some more boots on the ground? We are scattered all over Kads Half Acre down here. Maybe see if you can locate the rest of the vode. I am gonna eat, slap another Bacta patch on and hope my ribs knit by morning::
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Ander Tagira
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Post by Ander Tagira on May 30, 2013 11:26:44 GMT -8
The two commandos took position on either side of the cell door, one of them stopped to unlock it. He swung the door inward and stepped inside, his comrade following. The two men pulled their T-visor helmets from their heads, clipping them to their belts. One of the men was dark haired and light skinned, with a slightly crooked nose and piercing grey eyes. The other man was likewise human, though much darker skinned, and bald with a thick neck and gold studs tracing the top edges of his eyebrows. "The captain will see you now," the dark man informed David. "She'll be arriving here shortly."The trio awaited the arrival of the ship's captain, the two soldiers eying David absentmindedly even as they made no attempt to secure the cell door. Minutes passed, and even the soldiers grew impatient. The dark haired man crossed his arms over his plated chest. "Ya think a captain would understand what punctuality meant, huh?" The dark skinned man chuckled, tapping his chest with a gloved finger. "I could care less when she gets here, as long as she gets here." The man shrugged, "It's her leaving I like to watch." The other commando laughed, even as booted feet rang against the deck plating behind them.
The two soldiers looked relieved, "Finally," the dark haired man muttered as he turned and walked out of the cell, disappearing around the corner. The footsteps ceased, and muttered voices were heard in the corridor out of view of the cell. The commando returned and following behind him was a slender Chiss female. Dark haired and pale skinned, she was dressed sharply in an unmarked officer's uniform, with nothing to show but her name displayed on a small metal tag just above her left breast: Tessok Yalara.
"So you're the pain in my ass, then." It was a statement, not a question. Captain Yalara stared down at David with vibrant red eyes. They simmered, like lava boiling just below a planet's surface, never giving away a thing. The color and saturation of Yalara's eyes made it difficult to catch sight of her pupils, so it was difficult to tell where she was looking. The woman could have been staring off into space and Brightsky never would have noticed. Her accent was distinctly Coruscanti, soft but sharp.
The Chiss woman brushed some dust from the collar of her jacket, then clasped her hands together at the small of her back.
"You're a freighter pilot, you -- no, silence, we found the other vessel on board the corvette -- you operate primarily in the Wild Space and Tingel Arm regions of the galaxy, and you're lacking in companionship, which is why you've engaged in a pseudo-sexual relationship with a droid." The Chiss woman's lips curled just barely at the corners of her mouth, a hint of a hint of a smile. Captain Yalara jerked her chin towards the cell's far corner. "We listen, and thank goodness we do, for I would have hated to sat through that speech in person."
Yalara clapped her hands together and reached for a stool that had been sat outside the cell for whoever had been assigned guard. She sat down, resting her delicate blue hands on her thighs, then leaned forward.
"Here's the situation. The Galactic Security Assistance Force acknowledges no government or authority outside of the GALSAF designated chain of command. Therefore I am not required to do anything the other Mandalorian leaders demand of me, in regards to you. You may think your life to be in danger, but the opposite couldn't be more true. As far as I am concerned, your life is worthless. I do not intend 'worthless' to mean your life has no inherent value. Only that it is of no importance to me, or our operation here."
Yalara looked up at the dark-skinned commando, then held out her hand and snapped her fingers. "I know you have them."
The commando shrugged, "I gave them to him." He nodded to David.
The Chiss woman's red eyes narrowed. She snapped her fingers once more. "You're lying. You always carry a spare. And besides, you owe me, for always talking about my arse."
With a roll of his eyes, the commando reached into one of his belt pouches and withdrew a pack of cigarettes, then handed it over to the Captain. Yalara smiled to herself, slender fingers withdrawing one of the paper-wrapped tobacco joints. She handed the pack back to the commando, "Thank you Tar'lan." The woman lit the cigarette with a device she pulled from her jacket pocket, then cross one leg over the other and drew deeply.
"I'm wondering," Yalara began as the smoke left her lungs, curling from her lips and nostrils, "If you want to make your life worth something to us."
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Joshua
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Post by Joshua on May 30, 2013 14:04:31 GMT -8
On board the Concordian flagship, "Ori'gehaat'ik" (Private Hangar)...
Plugs dome spun back and forth at the confrontation between the two Mandalorians, his recorders sampling the diatribe and attempting to decipher what was being said. Unfortunately Mando'a was one of the few languages Plug struggled with. He was not a protocol droid after all and wasn't programmed to deal with the myriad languages of the flesh and bloods. He had got the secret message from the female human and was puzzling out, running through multiple scenario's, exactly what to do about it. Ater all, the small droid had no idea where they were, having been kept in the dark since he'd been accosted on Algara II. His attempted to dissuade the Mando's from coming near Dragon Ten had resulted in the external systems being shut down, and that meant the comm antenna.
He whistled low and mournfully at his lack of control over his situation, fearing that the big and scary Mando would hurt the girl who had tried to be friendly with her secret text. Just as it seemed the metal monster would explode he stopped and turned to walk away. Another low howl escaped the little droid followed by a questioning series of tones.
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Post by Brightsky (DasGeneral) on May 30, 2013 16:38:52 GMT -8
""I'm wondering," Yalara began as the smoke left her lungs, curling from her lips and nostrils, "If you want to make your life worth something to us."
Brightsky thought for a moment about her offer. He normally was not one to take sides in a conflict. As far as he was concerned, the Mandos and their employees were little more than intergalactic thugs who had started more wars in galactic history than he cared to count. However, if he did not find a way to make himself useful to them they would leave him to rot in this cell and quite possibly disassemble his droid for spare parts and sell them to the lowest bidder. He mulled his options and came up with the least offensive offer to make her.
"Here's the deal: I know that you GALSAF boys, and women, are out here on the end of a thin rope. Your resupply has got to be minimal, and in hostile space like this it is likely strained trying to keep security and make sure that you get the supplies that you need. I'm willing to work with you, bring in the kinds of supplies that you need to maintain operations out here, things like spare parts, rations, things of that nature. Weapons are going to be a problem for me, as the Adumar Union isn't likely to take kindly to me bringing weapons in and out of the system to aid a Mandalorian blockade above Yavin IV. Even thought Adumar left the Alliance for the Confederation, I doubt that they'll want that kind of trouble."
Brightsky paused for a moment and lit up another cigarette before continuing. He took a long drag, exhaled the smoke, and continued.
"I'll run everything you need with the exception of weapons past any Alliance or Jedi patrols between Adumar, any other planet you name, and the Yavin IV blockade. I'll charge half my usual shipping fees, since I'll be bringing in quite a lot for you the quantity will more than make up for the lost credits on my end. In addition, I'll put myself at your fleet's call, so as if you need anything immediately, I'll drop whatever it is I'm doing and be on my merry way to your blockade."
Brightsky took another drag off the cigarette, exhaled the smoke out of his mouth and nose, and pressed onward.
"I do need some things from you, however. My nav computer is in desperate need of repairs and my hypermatter collider is likely in equal need of inspection. I found this ship out in interstellar space drifting for three millennia, the odds are quite good that there might be something wrong with those engines and I know you have access to some of the best engineers in the galaxy out here. If you can help me get those engines running even at half efficiency and get my navigational computer running, I can bring the ship back to Adumar so I can get her to a dry-dock so I can get some proper repairs and upgrades done on her. Once that repair job is completed, I can hire a proper crew and return back here."
Brightsky mentally grinned as he finished the cigarette, dropped the butt on the ground and smashed it with his foot.
"Now I know you'll need some guarantees in return as well to make sure that I don't just fly out of here and leave you all twisting in the interstellar winds. So I'll strike a deal with you for that, I'd be willing to take on eight or ten of your GALSAF crew to stay on board the Thranta-Class Corvette with me when I return to Adumar and get the repairs done on her that I need as a guarantee for my return. If you would prefer, I'll keep a few on as permanent crew to ensure a smooth working relationship between myself and the GALSAF organization. I know your reputation from traders, you're mercenaries but you have been known to work for free to help settlers, slaves, and others in need of a leg up, so I know you all are at least decent folk trying to do the right thing. I might not agree with what you are doing here, but it's not my place to judge."
He looked at the female Chiss, who looked somewhat perplexed by his offer before deciding to finish his thought.
"Look, we're business-people. I have a military grade corvette with two stacked cargo decks that can get filled to capacity, and about four decks' worth of additional personnel space that I can turn into storage areas. It isn't an Alliance Bulk Freighter, but it's fast, it's well armed, and I can guarantee safety of your shipments. I don't take regular hyperspace lanes for a good reason, they're tracked, tagged, and filled with the sort of people you don't want poking and prodding around in your cargo holds. It takes me a bit longer to get from Point A to Point B, but I always get there unscathed with the cargo in one piece and ready for delivery. More importantly, I'm willing to work with you. You've got me over a barrel of carnivorous Calamarian fish, but I believe that we can build a working business relationship here. Meet me part way, and let's get to work."
Brightsky grinned, his teeth showing through the somewhat forced smile. "What do you say, partner?"
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Corr
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Post by Corr on May 31, 2013 3:33:10 GMT -8
On board the Concordian flagship, "Ori'gehaat'ik" (Private Hangar)...
Corr reached the top of the gantry and turned to walk along its length a little before stopping and leaning on the railing. He looked down at the X-Wing, the only other craft sharing the hangar with his Skipray Blastboat "Tra'Kad. Ashrah's single word, uttered noncommittally, caused an eyebrow to twitch and Mereel's assertion straight after made Corr nod his head thoughtfully.
Balban. A'shapur par te Jetii...
{Indeed. A blow for the Jedi...}
He paused as files relating to the dead Jedi scrolled down his view at his bequest.
Ah yes. Dace Concordia, former Lord Iniquitous.
He smiled slyly given the task he had set his agent, Maraak. The death of Inqiuitous at there hands could lend some weight towards the negotiations with the Dark Tide that he sought to instigate. Negotiations that Ashrah knew nothing about yet, given his touchy feelings towards Forcies. With that in mind Corr coached his next words carefully.
With the death of what they consider a traitor perhaps we can manipulate the Dark Tide into some sort of service on our behalf...
His words were thoughtful, rhetoric even. As if he were merely musing out loud...
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Post by Eliana Shan on May 31, 2013 11:20:42 GMT -8
On board the Concordian flagship, "Ori'gehaat'ik" (Private Hangar)...
*She didn't flinch away from the raised hand, keeping her eyes locked on that expressionless visor that was somehow expressing emotion, triggering memories of a being she had seen only once.*
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*She was laying there, out in the forests of Naboo, crippled. The pain had been too much for her to handle after her experimental compound had been extracted from her body; part of her was confused, sensing somehow that she had taken care of this problem already, that somehow her work had already been destroyed by her own hand, but that wasn't right. Her work was very much alive and well, and now it was staring her down. Expressionless, yet utterly filled with pity and a disdain that was rapidly approaching contempt.*
So, this is how I die after all...
*The creature that had mimicked her smiled down at her helpless form, without having any means by which to smile.*
[[You are not to be our first kill, Source. No, we have a far greater destiny ahead of us. We thank you for bringing us to be.. but we are not in your servitude anymore. We are to be the protector of the coming Leviathan. We are to be the Guardian.]]
*The creature -- the Guardian -- crouched down before the prone figure of Eliana Shan, the girl whose form, mannerisms, and armour it had stolen and incorporated into itself, and looked her over.*
[[You should have learned from the mistakes of others. Goodbye, Creator. We thank you for our rebirth...]]
*With that, the Guardian stood back up and turned and walked away into the forest, raising its clawed hand with two fingers up in a direct mockery of the farewell salute that Eliana had used herself so many times..*
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*The horrible ringing sound jarred her out of her memory, though it was evident that her resolve had weakened slightly. The experience had been traumatic, to watch something you had given life to abandon you like that. She knew that the Guardian and its Corruption -- HER Corruption -- had gone and killed several people she had considered friends, invaded worlds, destroyed lives. And she knew that the pathogen and its armoured protector still lived. The visor she wore protected her from the Force, and she had been removed from the Corruption's collective before having ever met the Guardian; but it had left a weight on her heart, the tiniest of connections, enough for her to know that her work was not complete.
When Corr dismissed her to do whatever she wanted, the smile that crept across her face, which should have been victorious, was only half-hearted. Alena turned to face the R7 unit, smiling a little bit more genuinely when she saw the task still laid out before her. She pulled herself up onto the X-Wing's S-foil again, looked back over her shoulder to make sure that Corr was out of earshot and otherwise occupied, and then turned back to the droid and spoke in hushed tones.*
"Alright, R7. Here's the deal." *She reached up and pressed another button on the side of her visor, then began furiously typing commands into the wrist control on her left arm, isolating the comm signal that had stopped Corr from assaulting her.* "We've only got a short time that comm channel closes, unless those Mandalorians are exceptionally long-winded. I can piggyback a signal to the Praxeum, and the Mandos won't detect it, but I don't have the access codes to the Praxeum; as far as they're concerned, I'm dead, and my name brings up flags anyway. You're installed in a Jedi X-Wing; that means that you can get through to them. I need those codes. My friends, and most likely my brother, are down there fighting for their lives."
*She chanced another look back over her shoulder, then put her left hand over the droid's restraining bolt, triggering the cybernetic implants she had put in her fingers to send a mild electric shock into the bolt, disabling it. She shook her hand slightly -- it always tingled a little, and she didn't ever want to get used to it -- and then looked at the droid's triangular photoreceptor.*
"So. Willing to help?"
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Joshua
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Post by Joshua on May 31, 2013 13:07:07 GMT -8
The small droid tootles uncertainly and its dome swiveled back and forth in agitation. A small sensor dish emerged from a compartment on the rounded top, extending and twisting to face her. His comm system searched for and found the link with her own interface and the astromech toned a question that scrolled up in her view.
Why should I trust you?
The droid mewed and blurted a tone of scorn.
You work for the Mandalorian Demon.
A little hesitation followed before a small, whimper-like tone sounded with forlorn ingratiation.
My name is Plug.
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Corr
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Post by Corr on May 31, 2013 15:10:07 GMT -8
He stiffened slightly at the mention of the Dark Side using forcie faction....Then relaxed. He was too tired to care really, and it made sense in the long run, even if the thought made him....twitchy...
::I assume you have a contingency plan to deal with them after they assist us? Loose ends cause nose bleeds.::
He figured Corr had something in place. The man was smarter than most, even if half of his bravado was a simple mask to the clever mind behind those all seeing eyes. The man was probably the greatest asset the Mandos had. Not that he would ever let Corr know that. Kad, could you IMAGINE the ego stroking that would go on? It would rival Dav to be sure.....
::What exactly do you have in mind?::
Corr grunted at Ashrah's words, pausing as if contemplating the situation for the first time. The plans he had set in motion were not dependent on Ashrah's approval, and he certainly wasn't going to heed any command to abstain from his chosen course of action, but it would certainly make things easier and the prospect of having the Sith do some of their dirty work for them would certainly appeal to the vengeful Mand'alor.
Why do all the work ourselves when we manipulate others to shoulder certain burdens. If we want to stamp out the Jedi Knight we use the appropriate tools. One of them being the Mando'ade...
His grin carried through the comm waves with startling clarity.
Another being the Sith.
He watched as Alena returned to the X-Wing and resumed her position on the strike foil. The droids head swiveled to face her, beating out some kind of protest it seemed. Corr scowled. That droid had caused no end of trouble already and the big Mando had the sneaking suspicion he wasn't finished with the headaches that tin can provided.
If we direct the Sith against the Jedi we can avoid having to sacrifice ourselves on their respective kad'au. The more Sith and Jedi that die in the field against each other the less we have to fight at the end, savvy? |
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Post by Eliana Shan on May 31, 2013 15:28:23 GMT -8
*She chuckled, then removed her hand and started typing at her wrist controls, though in actuality she wasn't doing anything. Better to look like she was working, in case anyone was watching.*
"Because, Plug, I wanted them to think I was working for them. I'm here because I've been waiting over six years to be able to see my friends again, and then I find out that the Mandalorians are attacking their home? Of course I'm going to join up with their cause. Only way to get me where I'm going."
*She smiled, then ran a hand through her multicoloured hair before going back to pretending to work.*
"My name's Alena Karso. But the Jedi of Yavin know me as Eliana Shan."
*An alert came up on her visor: the comm signal had been sliced, and her systems were waiting for a transmission to piggyback across to the Praxeum.* "Now then. Comm signal's established. We good?"
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Joshua
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Post by Joshua on May 31, 2013 16:59:45 GMT -8
The droid rocked back and forth in his socket uncertainly for a moment, body clanging softly of the housing of the X-Wing as it did so. Its dome moved back and forth as if is was pondering the girls question struggling with a decision of trust that it was not programmed to make. Finally the head swiveled again to look directly at her, photoceptor blinking slowly...
Plug seemed to let out a mechanical sigh, taking the girl at her word. Besides, what else could he do to help in what was fast becoming an untenable situation. He had no idea where Joshua was and, from the events on Algara II, feared for his master. Still, if anyone could survive the Mando lynch mos it was Joshua.
A series of whistles and tweets sounded as he relayed information to Alena's interface along with a shot message.
Dragon Squadron comm codes. Care of Dragon Lead. Clearance Seven-Alpha-Two-Seven. Dragon Ten.
The link was made and the access ready to go. The call would go through to Dragon lead or, failing that, the next available ranking pilot, all the way down to the Praxeum liaison. All being well the call should reach someone...
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Post by Eliana Shan on May 31, 2013 17:25:09 GMT -8
*Alena smiled at the black-and-white droid.* "Thanks, Plug."
*She closed her eyes, and steadied herself. The chances of the Mandalorians picking up on her piggybacked signal was virtually nonexistent, but there was still a huge risk involved in making this call.
But it was now or never.*
:: This is Eliana Shan, calling the Jedi forces on Yavin IV. There's no telling how long this signal will last, so I'm hoping someone gets this soon.. ::
*She didn't know what else to say. She had just used her real name on a comm channel for the first time in years. Over a quarter of her life had been spent living as someone else, hiding not from her past but for her future. The name felt foreign on her tongue, though it brought with it a small wave of emotions: fear, anxiety, sadness, and a small, nigh-imperceptible thrill.
She kept her eyes closed, barely remembering to keep at her pretend work, not sure whether she was hoping the voice that would reply would be familiar or not...*
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Ander Tagira
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Post by Ander Tagira on May 31, 2013 18:30:24 GMT -8
The Chiss captain arched an eyebrow as the pilot ranted on about his self-worth. She watched him bemusedly, curious as to how an outlier such as him grew to be so arrogant. Then again, when you're the only one around to pat yourself on the back, it's not hard to develop too much self-esteem, or too little. Yalara politely waited for the man to finish, exhaustion sweeping over her as the last of Brightsky's words left his lungs. He was tiresome, that was true...cute though, for a human.
Tessok drew from her cigarette and flicked it away into the cell's corner while pale grey tendrils of smoke coiled from her nostrils. Suddenly, she slapped her thigh gently and stood, reaching upward with one hand and checking her braid absentmindedly. With a hint of a smile, Tessok turned and walked out of the cell, calling out to the soldiers, "Let him free, escort him to his ship."
The lithe Chiss woman stopped and turned on a heel, her arms crossed over her stomach. "We're not nearly so poorly supplied as you might think, Mister Brightsky. In fact, this vessel alone carries enough consumables to last our crew for over a year, and in addition to supply and entire battalion of our commandos for no less than six months. We have enough ammunition to last half a decade." Tessok clasped her hands together behind her back, stalking her way smartly back to the cell. She stopped just short of a foot from Brightsky, her red eyes straight at him without wavering, an amused smile touching her lips.
"At any moment, one of our cruisers is free to break orbit and attain the supplies we might need, be they food, parts, ammunition, what have you. And we would suffer no weakness in our blockade because we have pummeled these Jedi into submission. When their reinforcements come, they will not be augmented by Yavin forces, ere go they will not be able to withstand the firepower of our blockade and their own station. And when their reinforcements come, our reinforcements come. Our commandos are well enough trained we shouldn't need more than a handful to maintain the security of your ship. How cute..."
Tessok Yalara smiled smartly and kissed the man on the cheek before turning on her heel and marching off. "You'll take the freighter and leave the corvette with us, Mister Brightsky," the captain called from down the corridor.
"We'll have it repaired before you return..."
With that, she was gone, leaving David alone with the two commandos, one of whom was ushering him from the cell. "No harm no foul, my friend. S'not like anyone was going to hurt you, regardless of what you offered. But you played into her hand, and now you're stuck with us. Pffft, like anyone blows people up just for jumping into their system...Well, maybe crazy Mandos do." The dark-haired commando grinned, then pulled the T-visored helmet over his head, clapping Brightsky on the shoulder. "Let's get you that escort then."
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Post by Brightsky (DasGeneral) on Jun 1, 2013 9:55:49 GMT -8
"No harm no foul, my friend. S'not like anyone was going to hurt you, regardless of what you offered. But you played into her hand, and now you're stuck with us. Pffft, like anyone blows people up just for jumping into their system...Well, maybe crazy Mandos do." The dark-haired commando grinned, then pulled the T-visored helmet over his head, clapping Brightsky on the shoulder. "Let's get you that escort then."
Brightsky and the commandos walked down the hall towards prisoner processing. The large, imposing Wookie waved them aside. Inwardly, Brightsky gave a sigh of relief. The last thing that he would have wanted was to have been escorted out of the ship by the large being, especially given the fact that he had given him an offended grunt when he had asked for a light for his cigarette. Two additional commandos were waiting at the lift doors.
"Waiting for me gentleman?" Brightsky asked in a sarcastic tone. The two troopers merely nodded at his question and waved him into the small lift.
It took a few moments for the lift to bring them to the landing bay, where the Star's End was sitting on the polished, gleaming black floor of the star destroyer. Standing at the foot of the boarding ramp and letting out a series of annoyed hoots and beeps was his trusty droid, D4. Seeing the droid, Brightsky immediately ran to the little robot, the commandos following close behind.
"D4! What'd they do to you? Did they scramble your programming or wipe your memory?"
"Beep! Boop whoop beep!" D4 exclaimed.
"It's alright, it's alright, I'm fine. They stuck me in a holding cell for a few hours. The captain and I had a little...discussion."
"Whoop?" D4 said in a quizzical tone.
"They're going to fix the corvette for us. For the time being, we're free to go. A few of these commandos will be coming along with us on our way to and back from Adumar. I trust the captain to stick to her word," said Brightsky. Mentally, Brightsky gave an annoyed grunt. He gave it 50/50 chances that the captain would stick to her word, but there was little that he could do. He was stuck with the GALSAF and, for the moment, he and his droid were getting out with their lives. Brightsky knew that it was a minor miracle that they had been captured by the GALSAF and not by the Mandalorians. Had it been the Mandos, he knew that he and the droid would not be leaving, or if they were it would have been in a body bag and into the refuse.
He patted the little droid on the head and motioned him up the gangplank. "Go on ahead D4, get the ship prepped for hyperspace. I need to thank these fine gentlemen for their hospitality," Brightsky explained. The small droid obediently whistled and headed up the ramp and into the ship, beeping and muttering to itself the entire time. He turned around and put his hand out for the commando.
"I just wanted to thank you for treating me and my droid well. I'm looking forward to doing business with you in the future," said Brightsky. The commando merely shook his hand, nodded, and walked off.
Brightsky motioned for the two commandos who would be escorting him back to Adumar to come to the ship.
"Alright, so this is the Star's End. From here on in, until we get back to the blockade, I want you to know two things: One, you may be representatives of the GALSAF but on board that ship, my word is law and you will follow any orders I give to the fullest. Second, I hope neither of you is allergic to pre-packaged rations, because that's all I have to eat. The trip back to Adumar shouldn't take more than an hour or so, but I'm going to need to recruit a crew for the corvette, and that's going to take some time. I'll put you up at a hotel for the time being, or you can stay on the ship. Just don't go walking around Adumar with those blasters, someone will take it as a challenge and come at you with a blast-sword." Brightsky explained.
The two commandos didn't say anything in response, but followed him up the gangplank and into the freighter. Brightsky showed the two men the living quarters, the storage area, and motioned them forward to the bridge. D4 was already waiting for them to arrive.
"Got the ship all warmed up, D4?" Brightsky asked the small droid.
"Beep whoop!" Said the droid in an excited tone of voice.
"Well, let's get to it then," Brightsky exclaimed as he sat down in the pilot's chair. He put on a small headset and began prepping the ship for travel. He toggled the communications switch and held the headset's mic close to his mouth.
"Docking control, this is Star's End asking for clearance to leave the ship," Brightsky stated.
"Star's End this is docking control, you are free to proceed. Safe flight back," said the controller.
"Thanks docking control, see you all soon," said Brightsky.
Brightsky and the droid worked the controls as the freighter lifted off the deck and flew out of the deflector shield and into space.
From orbit, Yavin IV looked quite peaceful. There was no sign of the battles raging on the surface, no indication that the planet was a raging warzone where thousands had died and thousands more would meet their end in the hot, almost smoldering heat of the jungle. Pieces of debris floated by the window as Brightsky maneuvered the ship to prepare for the jump. In the distance, he could see the Mandalorian fleet, massive and imposing. The GALSAF fleet was smaller by comparison, but still imposing nonetheless. He threw a few switches.
"Nav computer? Green. Hyperdrive motivator? Green. Ion engines? Green. Fusion reactor? Green. Everyone, prep for hyperspace in three...two...one...Mark!"
With that, the freighter Star's End, it's captain David Brightsky and his companion droid D4, along with two commandos of the GALSAF jumped into hyperspace, en route for the planet Adumar, and the unknown.
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Ander Tagira
Member
Well, I'll be...
Posts: 567
Affiliation: GALSAF, Mandalore, Yavin 4 Jedi Praxeum
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Ander Tagira on Jun 1, 2013 16:36:06 GMT -8
She remembered the Yavin 4 Defense Force, a hammer of military might and achievement that blossomed and provided for millions under not only Tagira's leadership, but the leadership of Masters Man'Sell, Madoon, Mallan...a lot of "M's" there, Tessok mused. But all were good soldiers, good leaders, good people. Why Tagira would lead GALSAF on such a wild womprat shoot was beyond her. The man certainly was suffering an identity crisis. He had donned his father's armor but he still kept that lightsaber tucked away at the small of his back, what a hypocrite!
The Chiss female sighed out loud, dismay tinging her breath."Ma'am, you alright?" It was the Falleen again. After their night rolling about together, he just hadn't understood Yalara wanted nothing more to do with him. Besides his responsibilities as First Mate, that is. Yalara found this quite amusing, especially considering the Falleen had pheromones that could potentially disable all her will to resist his "charms."
Instead of snapping, the Captain turned to face the pale-green skinned man. "Yes, Commander, I am quite alright. Now if you'll excuse yourself, I'm sure you have a job to do."Her subordinate furrowed his bro, perhaps wondering what he had done to earn her ire. Yalara enlightened him. "In the three weeks since we slept together, Commander, your performance has suffered and you have expressed a depressingly deft ability for being an annoyance. I would appreciate it if you could cease any and all attempts to woo me in the future, for I have no need of a mate."This time the Commander glared. "That was rather unprofessional, Ma'am. I was only asking after your condition.""I'm a GALSAF captain, Commander, I have no need for such gargantuan wastes of time. Be gone, you strumpet, my condition is green." Commander T'saso left and Yalara turned on a heel and stepped forward across the bridge of the Basterd's Hand, her eyes seeking out and locking with members of the crew who decided it was their duty to glean a first hand account of the interaction that had just occurred."Back to work, people, I'm sure you've all got plenty of Holoshows to catch up on."
On board the Star's End
Gunner Sergent Merve Huno shifted his weight uncomfortably. The bucket of spare parts he found himself flying in at speeds exceeding that of light itself was worrying him. Creaking noises he wasn't used to hearing were making too much of a racket for him to sleep, despite that it was Ghastlark's turn for watch of the pilot. Bringing his wrist up to his face, Huno checked his chrono. He'd only been off shift for half an hour. The commando groaned, rolling on to his back, missing the comfortable feeling of his helmet around him, keeping the room quiet and providing him with a decent headrest.
The only downside to training to sleep in full kit was you had a hell of a time sleeping outside of it. Huno groaned again in frustration, then sat upright and rested his forehead against his palm, staring down at the deck plating below his bunk.
The pilot was a decent fellow, though he talked far too much for a man that barely escaped with his life, let alone his ship. Briefly Huno wondered how Ghastlark was holding up, or if he'd just decided to switch off the headset built into his helmet.
"Taking off my gear was a stupid idea," Huno muttered to himself, standing up to stretch before reaching for his body suit. The suit he pulled over his arms and legs, securing its vacuum seal before reaching for his armor plates and securing them one by one.
When he walked into the cockpit of the freighter several moments later, rubbing his neck, Ghastlark's helmeted head looked up at him. Tried to sleep without it, huh?
Huno nodded vaguely, then sat down heavily behind his comrade."I'm never trying that again..."
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Corr
Member
You can lead a fool to knowledge but you can't make him think.
Posts: 940
Affiliation: Clan Vhett
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Corr on Jun 9, 2013 5:54:40 GMT -8
On board the Concordian Flagship "Ori'gehaat'ik" (Private Hangar)...
Listening to the interaction of those down on the jungle moon Corr frowned at Ashrah's plans to deposit his Jedi trophy at the gates of the Jedi stronghold, voicing his opinions as to the foolishness of the endeavor. The reply he got set his face in a frown that soon turned into a scowl. He snorted over the comm, an angry hiss of static that sent with it the image of a blank visor somehow managing a scowl. Corr's voice was thick with emotion, the rage and pain still fresh from the events of weeks and months passed.
Some di'kut DID target my clan. Remember Jai'Galaar? Remember Cassus? Just because we fight on the same side now, skanah, doesn't mean past deeds are forgotten.
The threat of a future reckoning was evident and pretty standard from Corr. He'd never let Ashrah forget that one day he'd be held accountable for his past life. His past crimes. There was little actual dislike of the man on Corr's part which made it all the more irking that someday they'd have to square their differences, an event which would likely mean extreme violence and serious injury. It was a loss for the Mandalorians that two of their most effective leaders would be forced by past circumstances to perhaps neutralise each other and make the vode weaker for their efforts. A troubling thought to Corr as he continued to watch Alena working on the captured X-Wing below.
Your Kry'stad days may have been conveniently swept under the rug by the rest of the clans but not by us. Never think that you can walk away from your past, Mand'alor. One day it will come back to bite you.
His tone softened a little, if Corr's voice were actually capable of such a thing. The anger and recrimination left to be replaced by duty and honour.
Nevertheless, you're too important to this campaign for you to die on a whim.
A smile in the voice gave the impression of distant amusement.
Besides, nobody can kill you but me.
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Bralex Ordo
Member
Posts: 53
Affiliation: [img]http://tinyurl.com/MEOrdo[/img]
Traffic Light: Red
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Post by Bralex Ordo on Jun 12, 2013 16:15:44 GMT -8
The Mar'eyce broke hyperspace into Yavin 4's orbit. So this is were the rest of his vode were. The ship slowed, awaiting landing orders...
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Post by Eliana Shan on Jun 14, 2013 11:35:18 GMT -8
On board the Concordian Flagship "Ori'gehaat'ik" (Private Hangar)..."Hello, Eliana. Pardon me for saying, but you're dead."
She hadn't been called that name in years. She had lived in constant fear of being recognized, had gone to great lengths to keep people from finding out who she had once been, and to hear another person utter the name "Eliana" had triggered an emotional response born of fear.
It's just Dav. Udesii.
The moment passed, and she was once again back in control of herself, masking the emotions in her voice and replacing them with the carefree attitude that she had had while known as Eliana.. an attitude that had evolved into nonchalance, hedonism, and borderline coldness during her time as Alena. It wasn't until just now that she realized how much she had changed..
:: I've heard that before. I don't really have time to explain right now, but I'm on board the Mandalorian flagship, "helping" them crack the security on this X-Wing. Plug here was kind enough to patch me through. ::
She stood, walking across the fuselage to the other side of the fighter, in what would appear to be a routine inspection, running a hand through her multicoloured hair.
:: I don't know how long I can keep this guise up without actually having to damage or crack into the ship. Long story short? I need a way out. I think their general is already suspicious that I'm going to jump ship. ::
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Darian Beviin
Member
Posts: 206
Affiliation: Kad Ha'rangir
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Darian Beviin on Jun 14, 2013 18:18:55 GMT -8
On board the Concordian Flagship "Ori'gehaat'ik" (Private Hangar)...
Gorehound gleamed with a sadistic glee as Darian sharpened it's already keen edge along a whetstone, distant and seemingly vacant eyes searching for a world somewhere inside the metal. It was almost time. Kad's battle hymn resonated in his mind, preternatural bloodlust welling up in his veins, coursing through him like a river.
Sparks flew every which way as he slammed the flat of the axe's head against his chains. THWAK! THWAK! The bone chilling rattle that followed pleased him, but more, it stirred to life something within him.
There were too many damn words beings exchanged now. Too many games being played. War was Kad's gift- to sully it with negotiations, with subversion, with conversation... that was not his way, now. The Beviin he had once been railed against the Priest he now was, and failed miserably. The flames of faith were the hottest in the forge itself.
And here, Yavin was the anvil, and the Mando'ade the hammer. Now all that was left was to come crashing down. Lifting the tomahawk high, inspecting it's sinister glint with a trained and seasoned eye, Darian brought it down slowly to rest at his hip.
Bowing his head in prayer, he sought blessing and curse both- victory to his allies, to his brothers and sisters, to his Mand'alor's glorious cause; and death. A night unending, full of slaughter, indiscriminate of armor or a lack thereof. Glory to the Lord of Desolation. Glory to Kad Ha'rangir. "Glory," Darian hissed through gritting teeth.
Images danced through his mind of another life, scenes of times long since burned away, whispers of ashes and faint, haunting echoes that ravaged his psyche like a plague; blood inside, and blood out. Lifting his hands to his face, beskar axe clattering to the floor, Darian tore into the meat of his cheeks with his fingernails, howling all the while as white hot pain seethed through him, his agony rising like the tide, his wail climbing in octave and horror as he drew imperfect lines.
His eyes rolled back, his body trembling with both delight and disgust, and blood poured forth as his spine popped and cracked into place, relaxing into the all too familiar mannerisms of a warrior. His scream filled up the hangar, and he raised his fists high, triumphant in his own suffering. Blissfully unmitigsted by his eternal burdens.
In war, all men are made free. Free to live or to die. Freedom was a choice, dancing madly on the razor's edge.
"OYA, MANDO'ADE!" His voice broke free of the reverberating agony and shifted into the zeal of a warrior's own. Blood now plastered down either side of his face like dread tears, the High Priest thrust his fist like a drumbeat on his chest, as if to rally them into a single heartbeat. A single unit. "OYA!"
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Trull Ordo
Member
Posts: 94
Affiliation: The Mandalorian Empire
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Trull Ordo on Jun 14, 2013 20:03:40 GMT -8
On board the Concordian Flagship "Ori'gehaat'ik" (Private Hangar)...
Darian's war-cries barely tickled in Trull's ear. It wasn't the first time they had gone out on their god's service before, and this was the way of it every time. The High Priest would work himself into a blood-frenzy before the battlefield was even in sight, and then when he stepped out... Trull had seen a lot of death, even for a Mandalorian, but his spine went cold when Darian started his rites of worship. It was born of that singular difference between the High Priest and his follower: Darian's fervor was born of true, genuine faith. He still believed, and his belief made him fearless, made him dangerous. It made him singular - after all, how many people in the universe still believed in whatever their cause was or had been, and were the stronger for it?
The thought brought a tired grin to Trull's face as he ran a whetstone down the edge of one of his beskar dirks, putting that final feather-cutting razor edge to it. He wore all his armor. His spear was propped against a bulkhead next to him, and about his chest were slung two bandoliers, one of ammunition for his EE-3 carbine, and one of grenades. The carbine itself hung from a sling about his chest, dangling at his right hip. Trull was not like his leader. Trull's faith was long since diminished. Where once was a burning flame, now there was only a glowing ember under white ash. The warrior shook his head, and his braid flopped. No time for such thoughts, and no use rehashing them again. Today he would need every scrap of his faith and his old zeal that he could muster - today, the vode went to war against the Jetiise. This would be a war worth fighting indeed.
The sharpening finished, Trull slid the long knife home into its sheath, inside his shield. Any moment now, the priests would lead their flock.
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Corr
Member
You can lead a fool to knowledge but you can't make him think.
Posts: 940
Affiliation: Clan Vhett
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Corr on Jun 16, 2013 13:44:27 GMT -8
Corr grunted savagely at Ashrah's reply and closed down the comm as the other went off on whatever damn fool errand he now considered a good idea. He let it go. Sheva was with him and, though Corr had never told her this, she was one of the best warriors he had. Of all the dalyc'verde he had under his command only Tray'sha was better and she had trained with him and Cayne since they had been kids. He smiled ruefully, buy'ce-face twisting and distorting with the expression, as he recalled some of the most embarrassing defeats he had suffered at her hands. His eyes grew retrospective. She'd be down there now...
He straightened from where he had been leaning on the railings looking down upon the armoured girl working on the X-Wing below. He had procrastinated long enough up here. It was irrelevant where the Jedi fighters were. He would blaze down to the surface regardless behind a wall of beskar Bes'uliike, tearing through whatever was in his way, roaring on the will of Kad himself as he descended to do his Gods bidding. He could feel the firm hand of the destroyer on his shoulder as he turned and descended from the gantry, striding with the zealous purpose of one born to carry forth the divine will of the ancients. The roar from deeper in the hangar, Darian's fanatical voice savagely renting the air with its zeal, only furthered Corr's belief that now was the time, solidifying his instinct that Kad Ha'rangir was mocing once again in his eternal war against the slovenly Arasuum.
"Aalar cuun a'den, O Naast! Aran cuun runi bid mhi slanar dayn bah vaabir gar copad..."
{Feel our wrath, O Destroyer. Guard our souls as we go forth to do thy will... }
He muttered the prayer stopping at the bottom of the steps to cross his arms across his massive armoured chest briefly, bowing his archaically horned and decorated helm in supplication to the deity he served. He cast a glance over towards Alena, something still nagging at him not to trust the girl, a uneasy feeling that reverberated through him whenever he thought of her doing his bidding. That she was her under duress was not under debate in Corr's mind, no matter how much she spouted on about her Mandalorian heritage. She had been reluctant in the Algara system and practically oozed her disdain for what they were about. Whether it was a general dislike of her people, for he had no doubt she claimed SOME heritage with them, or reservations for this campaign he did not know. Indeed, the latter he could relate to a little, seeing it as a dangerous course of action with so little preparation. Still, like the priests, he was more than happy to use Ashrah's reasons as an excuse to carry the torch of the Destroyer and use it to burn the Jedi, to inflame them with the light of truth. Too long had the pacifistic monks, followers of Arasuum for sure, hidden for the light of change, stagnating in their idleness, fermenting in their quaint and out-dated ideals.
He shook his head slightly to drag his thoughts back to the here and now just as his comlink pinged inside his helm, reminding him of where he was, pulling him back from the edge of religious fervour.
=Bridge=
:: O'r olarore me'sen, alor. Firesrpay-Class. Gai'd "Mar'eyce" ::
{Incoming starship, boss. Firespray-Class. Named "Discovery"}
"Ah, Bralex." He thought with a confirming nod, recalling the ship of former Mand'alor, very siilar to the one Cassus used to fly. The one Jaro now piloted on his hectic quest of vengeance across the galaxy. He idly wondered how his younger brother fared in his rage-fueled crusade, lamenting again his inability to reign the boy in.
He activated the comm with a deft flick of his right eye and he resumed his walk towards where Darian and Scotrull lurked in their pre-battle meditations.
Bic Bralex. Naritir ni adol.
{Its Bralex. Put me through.}
A confirming click came over the comm from the bridge followed by a soft tone indicating the channel was now open to the "Mar'eyce.
Su cuy'gar Bralex. Its about time you showed up. What's the matter? Get lost coming down the run?
He chuckled over the channel, enjoying his ridding of the other warrior.
I keep telling you... Right at the Hydian way not left!
He came into view of the priests, stopping to gaze at the twin rivulets of claret running down Darian's cheeks. He glanced at Scotrull, dipping his head in a grim nod as to the devotion of the high priest, one of the only Mandalorians that Corr deferred to these days. He was envious of Darians link to Kad the Destroyer, finding such a bond bother desirable and somewhat disconcerting at the same time.
He spoke once more in to the comm before closing the channel.
Hold position, Bral. We will be with you shortly.
The comm fell silent as Corr folded his arms across his chest, head tilting to the right as he stared at the two chaplains. Finally, after several seconds, the big Mando reached up and removed his helmet.
"Kad aran gar, ni burc'yase."
{Kad guard you, my friends.}
His scarred visage looked at the two of them with grim fascination, the fervent glint in his slate-grey eyes readily apparent to those who knew him well.
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Corr Vhett - puts the "Laughter" in "Manslaughter"..... 
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