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Location: Cave City Stenum-3, joint Nest-Iron Network administration, Neshtab
Tags: Binary Haze
| Hacks
| Open
Marcus was so entrenched in his thoughts, he nearly missed the person running behind him. It was pure chance he turned his head at that moment, but the person appeared to be frantic, glancing around. She had clearly seen something, as she moved down another street. Who knew what reasons people had for running, it wasn't anything special though. Then she glanced in his direction, and he knew.
The Broker
He attached his comm link to his waist and slowly unsheathed his dagger, hiding it with his cloak. Without a seconds thought he pursued the supposed broker. He had to reach the information before anyone else. He knew he couldn't be the only one chasing her, so he kept an eye out as he run, for a second he thought he spotted someone moving in their direction, but he thought nothing of it.
"A large portion of the Pariah Legion consists of ex-Sith Imperials who have chosen to flee to this world. The Imperial Army will not tolerate such a dangerous cabal so close to the Imperial frontier. If Neshtab joins the Imperial fold, the Pariahs will need to be tracked down and detained so that we can extract intel and determine how to best deliver justice for our comrades who fell in the Third Imperial Civil War. Of course, you will be assisted in this task by the Empire's elite stormtroopers. If the Pariahs resist, then the Empire will have no choice but to treat them as fugitives and hunt them down."
"I lack the experience to speak for the civilian aspect of Neshtab's future in the Imperial fold, so I will turn this moment over to my political seniors."
A clear and decisive answer. Good. Halcyon felt no remorse for what had to be done against the Pariahs, but he regretted that some of his kin would no doubt oppose their conspira- no, their emergency protocols.
“I would not be so bold as to say I am the Baron’s ‘political senior’ as he puts it, but I can speak to that topic specifically.” Sabine’s voice broke through like a crystal-clear stream of water; carrying a slight cool and crispness to offset the introduction that preceded her. “From the Central Government’s perspective, COMPNOR would see no reason to hamper Neshtab’s ability to self-govern, provided the... new order that would follow integration in the greater Empire, were to ensure local laws comply with state-wide regulations. And we would naturally insist a planetary garrison be established for obvious reasons, what with the meddling and aggression of the Galactic Alliance.”
Her words were spoken with a soft of... reasonableness, as if nothing she had just said was overly burdensome or troubling. That was, of course, by design - but whether or not they would be interpreted as such was another story entirely.
"If the Empire can act with us in tandem to quickly remove the Pariahs and Alliance-friendly groups, we will can deliver an Imperial-compliant Neshtab."
The High Steward spoke with so much confidence Halcyon almost believed her. Neshtab was... fractious, at the best of times. This plan to remove the Pariahs and forcibly bring any opponents in line was bound to open fresh wounds.
The discussion continued further, and Felina Kerenko continued to mull over the political situation.
Fractitious as the Nests were, the political calculus was complicated. On one hand, it meant that whatever her and her allied Clans did, something like a third of the Nests would vehemently disagree, and in the matter of this specific question and context, that disagreement would end in bloodshed and waveburn.
On the other, it meant that gathering the support of a sizable minority of the Nests and coordinating their efforts would be enough to sway many more on the fence: the threshold for a critical mass was lower. She could count on, at best, one third opposition, but she could likely count on two thirds support, tacit or otherwise, if she acted swiftly and presented a coherent political message to the Nests.
The Seneschal and Overseer could play appeasement and hold hands around the cellfire with the other groups on the Council. Kerenko would see to the preservation of the autonomy and unity of the Nests, whether those two wanted it or not.
"Regarding the apprehension of the Pariahs, they are tenacious, cunning, and above all, loyal to their Warlord. It is no accident they reunified Neshtab and placed themselves in a central role in maintaining the current order. The Lord Protector has been- and I am sure you already know this- speaking with representatives of the Galactic Alliance. I… would not count on his cooperation, so I anticipate having to arrest the Pariahs by... other means of coercion."
“By force, is what the High Steward is saying. The Pariahs will fight against Neshtab falling under Imperial control. They know their fate if they fall into your hands. If we - and by that I mean our allies in the other factions - have your word and guarantee that you will assist us in this, we will act to subdue them.”
"And that is something I must know before we can guarantee that we will act, and before we discuss our plans," Halcyon gestured at the files on the meeting table and the holo-projector.
"Can we count on the Empire's support, diplomatic and otherwise?"
“True Courage is to stand against evil, even when we stand alone.” - Richard C. Edgley
He was not expecting to be met by locals, or by anyone for that matter, but when he saw the small group of nomads (let’s face it, they were out of place), he knew where he was going. Introductions were short, but respectful, this was not an educational or “fact finding” mission by any means, or maybe it was depending on the point of view that you take, but they were soon off. The Stormsingers blended well into their environment and the big man stuck out like a sore thumb (yes, that is a pun centered around his size).
What he saw was not disturbing, it was sickening. It was one thing to experience the influence of the Dark Side by choice, and to view the effects of corruption on another. It was another thing to view the effects of corruption on animals and beasts that did not have that choice. What is worse is that it looked like while some were exponentially more aggressive, some looked defensive as if they were in some kind of pain. Anything was possible with the Force, so he had hope of saving them somehow, but if this was anything like his experiences from Voss, or more recently Krant then there would be no choice, they would have to be destroyed.
Even though these scouts might not have been able to see them (or maybe they could, Vanagor didn't want to ask), he could see the Imperial Knights and Stormsingers gathered together. At least one big armored man looked to be conversing with them, or they appeared to be conversing with each other. "The other big man" quietly assured the Stormsingers that "his people would not be the aggressors' ', or something to that effect. No words were spoken by Caltin or the Jedi with him. The only purpose of his visit was to stop a threat, and any negotiations were left to the negotiators. Saving lives was his primary goal, not changing them.
His memories of Tython were stirred when he heard the mention of caves, where sometimes they were more like tunnels. It was an unconventional idea that he was receiving, one that required patience and time to build. When he was finally acknowledged, Caltin bowed respectfully, a rarity for him as he normally resorts to a covered fist and a head nod. Making sure to bow to all gathered, he let the conversation continue and remain silent up to the point where tactical thoughts were requested.
Perhaps controlling what they can predict is a possibility.
Reaching upward and outward to a patch of ground with nothing around it, Vanagor brought down a bolt of elemental lightning. It was strong and violent, but all would be able to tell that it was clearly under his control.
If those “Stormshafts” are what they are described to be, then maybe they can aid in manipulating the Howling Wind into a position where they do not hold all of the advantages? Also, do we know about these caves? Are they simply that? Or are there other entrances?
He did not like feeling ignorant like this, but his call to arms came at a last minute, so the time to prepare was short.
The Denon Senator's smile tightened as AXION succinctly described their little... quandary. Dominique knew of a few that would be interested in the Network for one reason or another. Whether that knowledge held any sway in her mind or the outcome of this meeting, however, she hadn't let on to any no matter how close they might be to the Senator. It would pose a challenge whatever option was chosen -- trying to make use of them, destroy them, or simply leave them be.
Varos chose to voice another concern shared by the representatives of those on Neshtab. AXION's comments supported this concern. Whether they were all aware already and merely chose to distribute the telling to make their unity more clear... Well, the tactic hardly mattered. The subject was far more important.
Vexx's eyes shifted slowly from one delegate of Neshtab to the next before they settled on Ironhide again. "The Alliance has no stomach for conquest. It offers worlds an opportunity to join a wider community -- to share its spoils, and at times distribute its pains in turn. The Will of the people of member worlds is foremost on its collective mind. If a world chose to welcome the Empire, the Alliance would be forced to evaluate the situation before determining whether it was coerced or of their own free-will; and then decide on a course of action." She smiled, but it did not touch her eyes. The Senator expected the leaders here to read into that appropriately as to how the Alliance would act. Succinctly: it would not until it became clear there were crimes to odious to the collective they felt compelled to wage war.
"Throughout the duration of these negotiations, however," Vexx continued, "the Alliance will ensure the safety of all delegation members and their guests. The Empire would be foolish to launch a direct assault on a diplomatic convoy. Better to merely make it clear such a delegation is no longer wanted and escort them outside of the system." A slight narrowing of the eyes, and a tightening of the lips accompanied her inflection of 'guests' earlier. Another moment for them to read into what she said without having said anything either the Empire or Alliance would fault. "And if the Empire chose to launch an invasion now while we are still having these discussions, I will personally assure you they will be forced to slow that advance. Only for a time, however, but long enough." The Alliance's navy might not be waiting en masse outside the system, but Denon was no toothless, aged lion quietly slumbering in a dank cave. If the Empire invaded, she would give them cause to rethink their calculus -- how quickly was expelling the Alliance worth what cost?
"But why speak of such troubled times? Surely a few rebels on Neshtab could not represent its people." Dominique kept an eye on all the leaders' non-verbal conduct to see if any gave something away they were embarrassed to confess aloud. "Once the documents are signed by both governments, the full military might of the Alliance will ensure your planet's safety. We would train your own people on how to defend themselves, of course, not garrison faceless, emotionless hordes on your world to 'keep the peace.'"
"As for AXION and the Network," the Senator came back around to the matter, "I am eager to learn more about your people," a word she did not stumble over even if it may or may not be accurate. "There is certain to be a way to reconcile matters no matter past transgressions or fears. The Alliance is a diverse community with many opportunities to make use of almost any skill set." Vexx, herself, could see a use for them. Even those that fled the Empire could find purpose, and she could see them in contact with the right people. If they opened up and were truthful with her, of course. In private; an open discussion like this on the record might be a touch too open.
THE NESTAB CRISISI: AGGRESSIVE NEGOTIATIONS
-AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY-
CAIRN_ONE RINGLEADER OF THE PELLAEONIST CLIQUE (AWAITING STAND-DOWN ORDERS) WARDEN OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS (AWAITING STAND-DOWN ORDERS) DRUID-GRANDMASTER OF THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD
It would seem my superiors would prefer to flog a dead horse this time.
As if Neshtab was ever the answer to all their prayers.... Interesting. I suppose I'll just have to see for myself.
Night was on the verge of falling, and unlike previous outings, Lord Michael was making use of the shroud and the shadows of his surroundings, making his way to his intended destination in complete accord with the poor, desolate peoples around him.
But instead of bringing the full weight of the Brotherhood to bear for safety, learning his expensive lessons from his recent deployment to Ilum, the Woad's best infiltrators from the Highlanders' main host and Raider Battalion alike were deeply embedded on the planet already, offering eyes and ears in nearly every relevant corner of the planet's largest urban locales. And yet, much to Lord Michael's great chagrin, those reports entailed little and less on the matter of the Serennoan king, still missing since the strange happenings on Concordia, and likely to remain as such for the foreseeable future.
'Sir, you might wanna come to the gate.... Regent's son is here, the Colonel. Come see for yourself if ya don't believe me, he's marching up on the northern checkpoint as we speak.'
Bringing the Druid to Neshtab's surface and beneath, spurred onto the investigation trail in search of any trace or clue of his friend's existence, and his inquiry would begin on the very edges of the Imperial frontier, just a stone's throw from No-Man's-Land between the IMPAF and their strongest rivals in the Galaxy. All was quiet on the roofed horizon for the next while, and though it seemed as if the clear tension could be cut with a knife, the small reprieve from the hardship and rigors of war was exactly what Barran needed at the time, still sluggish and occasionally migraine-ridden by then. The Sabretooths guarding the wide, expansive backdrop that opened up towards the rest of the city outside, preoccupied with perimeter-surveillance though they were at the time, were quick to notice this as they followed their rotation-commander in his attempt to close the distance.
'Colonel Barran, sir! Honoured you're here but - if you don't mind my asking, what brings you here to- oh.... I'm sorry, sir. Maybe I should bring you to Major Shazzeke for now.'
Then after that, with thanks given and handshake exchanged, the young Mantellska native led the Woad deeper into Camp Veers, to what appeared to be the makeshift (though still well-guarded) command-centre, giving the Druid more than enough to see and appraise on the way. Everything they needed to survive would rest behind the walls though, and in the moments following the traversal towards the inner-wings of the redoubt, there would be much and more owed to the painstaking efforts of the 313th and the 908th elements there, and it was in these moments where the appraisal would be most actively endeavoured as the two warriors walked and conversed back and forth together. Questions and such would be asked of the Druid in the process, asking him of his father's health, his plans and what Serenno had in mind for Lord Michael in particular, though these questions were far from the subject matter the Woad wished to cover.
'Alright, this is us.... Don't get too wild with the questions though, the Mirialan hates that with a passion.'
'Noted.', Barran replied in quiet, sluggish monotone, trying his best to sharpen up before the door opened, though still struggling through the painkiller haze that still wasn't enough to fully dull out the pain after application. Though when the door opened to the room inside, the Woad would be quite grateful for the fact the lighting was relatively dim within, for any reprieve for his stinging eyes would naturally find appreciation, even if it meant dealing with the outside world in order to encounter such rests from the sun's glare. The troopers within were all checking over map-projections on smaller holographic plinths with their Major sitting gambling in the back with his best subordinates, so the quickness to rise from their seats would prove to be the second surprise, though fortunately for all involved, Lord Michael wasn't much of a stickler for asserting his higher rank - choosing not to be a nuisance by silently gesturing for everyone to sit down again instead.
'Just here for intel, insight an' a look at the redoubt to see if there's anything you might need help with. Covered the lattermost already, but I think I'll just leave that t'you to act on your own initiative.... Mazke Shazzeke, you clearly know who I am, so I'll save the pomp for those in need of it. Everything alright, in any case?'
Chuckling it off with a shrug, showing more that he was unperturbed than he was showing nonchalant attitudes towards his own life in general, Sabretooth Major replied,'You can buy in, we've got files here for you.... You can also tell me what you appraised.', in his typically-laconic manner. As Michael continued to approach, (though quicker in the wake of the invite) he nodded confirmation of intent before picking his seat next to a young tank-operator he was all too sure he recognised from somewhere, swiping the Holodealer's display with the maximum buy-in as the Mirialan of few words continued,'Almost believed it was your old man before. Double take was needed for a second, but anyway - welcome to the Veers Redoubt!', correcting himself for the Druid's take whilst the next round of cards were being dealt out to all seven players.
'Thank you, Major Shazzeke - and for the respects too, but I think,"Michael", will suffice here.... Same goes for your peers, though I must admit I know this one from some-'
'Ah, promoted by your old man recently. Awards ceremony, remember?', the Mirialan quickly cut in, to which the Goidelic human's eyes widened in sudden recognition, narrowing again in natural acquiescent nods to the revelation. After this, Michael extended a kindly offer of a handshake in greeting a fellow appreciator of tank-combat nuances, to which the offer was met in the acceptant middle as Mazke concluded,'Hall, meet Michael Barran; Michael, meet Hall Mannarra.... Let heroes meet kindred in merit, history is made on less.', to which the Woad's eyes widened again - but in yet another, more-closely recognised comprehension.
'Ilum! Of course, I remember reading those debrief reports.... Fair play, Hall. Fair play indeed.'
A frustrated murmur swept through the crowded streets, rising in tone as Hacks caught glimpse of a man on the run. In the brief moment she had seen him her datagoggles had scanned him against the SIA dossier. Binary Haze. She slowed her pace, walking with the natural flow of the rabble, but yet still sticking out like a sore thumb.
She let Binary run, or so it seemed. A light whirring sound came from her skull, nanomotors of her AJ brain implant firing up, translating the infinitely small neural connections of her mind to the digital. Her world descended into code. An ocean of data washed over her and she reached out, plucking at nearby connections, shattering firewalls.
Residential security was rudimentary at best, but just about everyone had cameras for safety on their property. It was from one such home security camera she watched Binary run, the camera craning to follow his path. In meatspace she had slowed her pace, barely moving as her mind was held transfixed elsewhere in the vast net. It was this same distraction that kept her from noticing the man she was about to walk into.
"Regarding the apprehension of the Pariahs, they are tenacious, cunning, and above all, loyal to their Warlord. It is no accident they reunified Neshtab and placed themselves in a central role in maintaining the current order. The Lord Protector has been- and I am sure you already know this- speaking with representatives of the Galactic Alliance. I… would not count on his cooperation, so I anticipate having to arrest the Pariahs by... other means of coercion."
“By force, is what the High Steward is saying. The Pariahs will fight against Neshtab falling under Imperial control. They know their fate if they fall into your hands. If we - and by that I mean our allies in the other factions - have your word and guarantee that you will assist us in this, we will act to subdue them.”
“Allow me to be as clear as possible so as to avoid any confusion here.” Sabine said, not waiting for Nines to speak up with whatever response he may have thought of. “I, as a representative of the Empire’s Central Government, am empowered to provide the assurance you need.”
She produced a datapad and handed it to both the Seneschal and High Steward - whoever it was that decided to take it. The contents displayed on the screen would bear the imperial seal, and state plainly the intention of the Empire with respect to Neshtab.
“The Empire is prepared to commit its full support to bring Order to this planet, one way or the other.” Her eyes locked in turn with both representatives before continuing: “The Pariah Legion will be hunted down and exterminated - down to every last soul. The Baron has at his disposal one of the Empire’s finest legions, and... my lord father commands great influence within the Imperial Navy - he can have an entire system-fleet deployed here with just a word. He was also key in finalizing this writ I provide you with today.”
Plain as day, the Grand Moff’s signature was present on the writ within the datapad. “Should you sign your names, you will be from this day forth recognized as the Empire’s duly appointed civil representatives here on Neshtab. A provisional governor will be stationed here along with a considerable garrison to maintain order. Anyone who wishes to undermine your authority on this planet will be met with the cold grip of Imperial justice. Once the document is signed, I will transmit a copy for your records, and I will return to finalize the arrangements. We can have this world pacified in a matter of weeks, and the Alliance will be put in their place for trying to turn you into their puppets.”
A feline smile flashed on Sabine’s lips, carrying through at the corners of her eyes. She may not have been a military genius like the Baron was, but she knew how to win the hearts of those with the ambition to meet with them under the nose of their so-called ‘leaders’.
Fortunately for the Baron, he had plenty of political superiors.
After FN-999 had conceded the conversation, the next member of the delegation to speak up was Sabine Korvan, the daughter of Grand Moff Ignacious. While notably younger than the Baron, her elite upbringing shone through, and she was able to shed light on diplomatic realities he could barely understand. Truthfully, it was a useful lesson for him. It seemed as if integration of a conquered people did not always have to equal total assimilation, and simply legally binding them to their new central government and its federal laws would be enough to ensure loyalty and stability. It was this macroscopic view of permanent conquest that the Baron was still learning to comprehend as he began to assume the role of a civilian as well as military leader.
As a result of this insight, his respect for the young Korvan grew.
"If the Empire can act with us in tandem to quickly remove the Pariahs and Alliance-friendly groups, we will can deliver an Imperial-compliant Neshtab."
"Regarding the apprehension of the Pariahs, they are tenacious, cunning, and above all, loyal to their Warlord. It is no accident they reunified Neshtab and placed themselves in a central role in maintaining the current order. The Lord Protector has been- and I am sure you already know this- speaking with representatives of the Galactic Alliance. I… would not count on his cooperation, so I anticipate having to arrest the Pariahs by... other means of coercion."
"I understand this far too well." replied the Baron. "If the Third Imperial Civil War has taught me anything, it is that an army backed into a corner will stop at nothing to escape. They have nothing left to lose, and everything to gain. As I have mentioned before, if the Lord Protector and his cohort fail to see the wisdom of Imperial rule, then we will have no choice but to strike. Should you will it, I will bring him before you myself and have him grovel before you."
“By force, is what the High Steward is saying. The Pariahs will fight against Neshtab falling under Imperial control. They know their fate if they fall into your hands. If we - and by that I mean our allies in the other factions - have your word and guarantee that you will assist us in this, we will act to subdue them.”
"And that is something I must know before we can guarantee that we will act, and before we discuss our plans," Halcyon gestured at the files on the meeting table and the holo-projector.
"Can we count on the Empire's support, diplomatic and otherwise?"
“Allow me to be as clear as possible so as to avoid any confusion here.” Sabine said, not waiting for Nines to speak up with whatever response he may have thought of. “I, as a representative of the Empire’s Central Government, am empowered to provide the assurance you need.”
She produced a datapad and handed it to both the Seneschal and High Steward - whoever it was that decided to take it. The contents displayed on the screen would bear the imperial seal, and state plainly the intention of the Empire with respect to Neshtab.
“The Empire is prepared to commit its full support to bring Order to this planet, one way or the other.” Her eyes locked in turn with both representatives before continuing: “The Pariah Legion will be hunted down and exterminated - down to every last soul. The Baron has at his disposal one of the Empire’s finest legions, and... my lord father commands great influence within the Imperial Navy - he can have an entire system-fleet deployed here with just a word. He was also key in finalizing this writ I provide you with today.”
Plain as day, the Grand Moff’s signature was present on the writ within the datapad. “Should you sign your names, you will be from this day forth recognized as the Empire’s duly appointed civil representatives here on Neshtab. A provisional governor will be stationed here along with a considerable garrison to maintain order. Anyone who wishes to undermine your authority on this planet will be met with the cold grip of Imperial justice. Once the document is signed, I will transmit a copy for your records, and I will return to finalize the arrangements. We can have this world pacified in a matter of weeks, and the Alliance will be put in their place for trying to turn you into their puppets.”
A feline smile flashed on Sabine’s lips, carrying through at the corners of her eyes. She may not have been a military genius like the Baron was, but she knew how to win the hearts of those with the ambition to meet with them under the nose of their so-called ‘leaders’.
The Baron almost chuckled aloud at the thought, imagining how the brilliantly clever Korvans would utterly demolish all political opposition to the new regime. The Commissar could not have been any clearer, possessing the foresight to bring a digital copy of the exact Imperial arrangements for Neshtab and present it in front of the delegation. Her intent for the Pariahs exactly matched his own, and her assessment of the forces available to the Imperials was spot-on.
Now, all that was left to sum up the Empire's military commitment.
"The Imperial Army stands by every word Commissar Korvan has just said." continued the Baron.
"As she has mentioned, I command the 908th Legion, a force of over twenty thousand of the Empire's finest stormtroopers currently attached to a fleet in staging grounds in the Dorin system. Give the order, and they will be in orbit in under half an hour. Beyond the 908th, the Empire has several army groups stationed in the western frontier sectors with hundreds of thousands of veterans of the Second Great Hyperspace War in each. While they will take slightly longer to arrive, they will provide the sheer numbers needed to garrison the major cities and flush out the last of the opposition forces."
"In return, I have just one request." stated FN-999, turning to face Commander Halcyon. "The Empire's knowledge of Neshtab's geography is likely nowhere near that of its residents. In order to effectively outwit and outmaneuver the Pariahs and their kin, we will need more intel. I would like to request that a detachment of Doreau become scouts for the Imperial Army after they land on Neshtab. The knowledge your rocketeers have of the rugged mountains of Neshtab and their surroundings will prove invaluable in efficiently securing the planet. As scouts, they will not be forced to fight their former comrades, and they have every right to withdraw under the protection of the Imperial Army as soon as pitched battle begins."
"If you wish to amend this in any way, please let me know and I will gladly hear you out."
Interitus’s eyes had suddenly snapped open to the awakenings he felt in the Force. The moment that he had feared had finally arrived. His eyes getting used to the room lost in the red glow of his Sith mask he would stare at the various monitors within the control room only to spit what looked to be both Jedi and Imperial Knight to his amazement. His fists clenched slowly, and found himself muttering curses to the ill timed arrival of both Force sects. Interitus would feel anger slowly rise within him like a great storm that had threatened to ignite and consume all in its path. Planning behind building up small cults such as the Circle of Howling Winds had taken months to do, and with the collapse of Maw supply lines made even worse it spurned the Sith Lord to try and lead a guiding hand himself through the cult which he feared would be all for nothing with the arrival of foes he hated the most.
He had spent months establishing himself as “The Hidden One.” The supposed God of the cult of which rumors spread of dark powers wielded by this man, and some say a blade made from red. He watched slowly getting up from his meditation on the floor to see the different holoprojectors and saw the figures that he sensed moving through the camp site. A part of him desperately wanted to reveal himself, yet another part wanted to savor this game of cat and mouse. If they found him at the very center of the camp within his own chambers he could be in for quite a warm welcome.
A twisted grin started to appear for the Loremaster of the New Sith Order. He had sensed that among his own peers the ideology of Darth Bane was starting to break, while he had ideas of soon to fix the Sith’s problems with the rebirth of the New Sith Order. Still the Sith Lord didn’t overplay his hand if the Knights and Jedi would find him he would unleash all the forces of the cult upon them to make his escape, for he was too valuable to both the Maw and the Sith to be kept in the hands of the New Jedi Order.
“Pity, I hoped to just watch them destroy each other… I might have to leave sooner than I expected.” He said gritting his teeth in anger as he slowly tucked his lightsaber into his own robes. He would keep watching the holoprojectors for any sign of the Imperial Knights, and Jedi lurking about. Raising an eyebrow slowly to the shadowy figures that moved through the camp he wasn’t sure where they would be, only hoping that they wouldn’t get to him first or it would all lead to a deadly spiral.
Location: Outskirts of the Meyeson Forest, Kosa Belt Tundra, Neshtab
Objective: Meet with NJO and IK warriors, prepare assault on Mawite cult
TAGS: Caltin VanagorDionus BharroValery NobleKelinna Tryn
|| FORCE USERS ON OBJECTIVE 3
Even though these scouts might not have been able to see them (or maybe they could, Vanagor didn't want to ask), he could see the Imperial Knights and Stormsingers gathered together. At least one big armored man looked to be conversing with them, or they appeared to be conversing with each other. "The other big man" quietly assured the Stormsingers that "his people would not be the aggressors' ', or something to that effect. No words were spoken by Caltin or the Jedi with him. The only purpose of his visit was to stop a threat, and any negotiations were left to the negotiators. Saving lives was his primary goal, not changing them.
If those “Stormshafts” are what they are described to be, then maybe they can aid in manipulating the Howling Wind into a position where they do not hold all of the advantages? Also, do we know about these caves? Are they simply that? Or are there other entrances?
"Yes, one possibility is baiting them into an open fight. Another is for us to make use of the rods ourselves, but that might be more trouble than simply destroying them.
"As far as my scouts have reported, these caves appear to terminate, but we cannot be sure. Which is why we must strike hard and fast and take control of the cave system to minimise stragglers."
"I understand this far too well." replied the Baron. "If the Third Imperial Civil War has taught me anything, it is that an army backed into a corner will stop at nothing to escape. They have nothing left to lose, and everything to gain. As I have mentioned before, if the Lord Protector and his cohort fail to see the wisdom of Imperial rule, then we will have no choice but to strike. Should you will it, I will bring him before you myself and have him grovel before you."
Halcyon shook his head, and he saw Kerenko purse her lips.
"That will not be necessary. Extradition by the Empire for these refugees to stand trial for their crimes against your Empire will be more than sufficient." He was under no illusions what that entailed for the Legion proper.
“Allow me to be as clear as possible so as to avoid any confusion here.” Sabine said, not waiting for Nines to speak up with whatever response he may have thought of. “I, as a representative of the Empire’s Central Government, am empowered to provide the assurance you need.”
She produced a datapad and handed it to both the Seneschal and High Steward - whoever it was that decided to take it. The contents displayed on the screen would bear the imperial seal, and state plainly the intention of the Empire with respect to Neshtab.
“The Empire is prepared to commit its full support to bring Order to this planet, one way or the other.” Her eyes locked in turn with both representatives before continuing: “The Pariah Legion will be hunted down and exterminated - down to every last soul. The Baron has at his disposal one of the Empire’s finest legions, and... my lord father commands great influence within the Imperial Navy - he can have an entire system-fleet deployed here with just a word. He was also key in finalizing this writ I provide you with today.”
Plain as day, the Grand Moff’s signature was present on the writ within the datapad. “Should you sign your names, you will be from this day forth recognized as the Empire’s duly appointed civil representatives here on Neshtab. A provisional governor will be stationed here along with a considerable garrison to maintain order. Anyone who wishes to undermine your authority on this planet will be met with the cold grip of Imperial justice. Once the document is signed, I will transmit a copy for your records, and I will return to finalize the arrangements. We can have this world pacified in a matter of weeks, and the Alliance will be put in their place for trying to turn you into their puppets.”
A feline smile flashed on Sabine’s lips, carrying through at the corners of her eyes. She may not have been a military genius like the Baron was, but she knew how to win the hearts of those with the ambition to meet with them under the nose of their so-called ‘leaders’.
Halcyon made sure not to show the satisfaction he felt on his face. A written commitment was exactly what he and his conspiracy had been trying to angle for during these meetings. A sizable ground and naval force deployed quickly would overwhelm the initial resistance, enough to form a Provisional Council over the Collective and defuse further resistance.
"Thank you, Commissar. We appreciate the Empire's commitment and decisiveness in this matter."
Halcyon knew he should be worried about the matter of appointing a governor and a garrison, but he knew in his bones the same truth every Neshtabine did: off-worlders would come and go, but they rarely made their presence strongly felt for long. Without intervening factors, any potential governor and garrison would by logistical necessity be spread only as far as the Old Link. Neshtab would continue turning, its people living and dying, as it had for millenia uncounted. A lesson the Pariahs would learn painfully.
"The Imperial Army stands by every word Commissar Korvan has just said." continued the Baron.
"As she has mentioned, I command the 908th Legion, a force of over twenty thousand of the Empire's finest stormtroopers currently attached to a fleet in staging grounds in the Dorin system. Give the order, and they will be in orbit in under half an hour. Beyond the 908th, the Empire has several army groups stationed in the western frontier sectors with hundreds of thousands of veterans of the Second Great Hyperspace War in each. While they will take slightly longer to arrive, they will provide the sheer numbers needed to garrison the major cities and flush out the last of the opposition forces."
"In return, I have just one request." stated FN-999, turning to face Commander Halcyon. "The Empire's knowledge of Neshtab's geography is likely nowhere near that of its residents. In order to effectively outwit and outmaneuver the Pariahs and their kin, we will need more intel. I would like to request that a detachment of Doreau become scouts for the Imperial Army after they land on Neshtab. The knowledge your rocketeers have of the rugged mountains of Neshtab and their surroundings will prove invaluable in efficiently securing the planet. As scouts, they will not be forced to fight their former comrades, and they have every right to withdraw under the protection of the Imperial Army as soon as pitched battle begins."
"If you wish to amend this in any way, please let me know and I will gladly hear you out."
"That is... very generous, Baron. Given the nature of the battle ahead, we would be remiss not to contribute and act as scouts for your soldiers. It would be best to minimise the blood shed between comrades, but at the same time, as we say here, 'the mouth that commands is the hand that acts'. We will not shy away from fighting if the need is urgent."
This was not solely about a warrior's honour, of course. It would be impossible to present the actions of the pro-Imperial allies as being about Neshtabines bringing back order and expelling a dangerous threat that had infiltrated the Collective (the Pariahs) if another group of outsiders took the bulk of the fighting.
Another thought came into Halcyon's head. A presumptuous one that would have to be proved through action. Perhaps he would float the idea to the Baron after this whole affair.
Kerenko spoke up.
"We accept your offer, Commissar, though it appears we are missing- ah, here they come."
All in the room turned at the sound of the chamber doors sliding open, the sound of the howling wind carried into the corridor.
A veritable entourage entered the room. Stormsingers in their traditional robes and face masks, several droids of extremely varied design, and an Imperial Moff, her uniform covered by a thick jacket-cloak of Neshtabine design.
Moff Adera Vellas
swept the jacket off her shoulders, draping it on the metal-and-stone hangers fastened into the walls of the room, hangers that the other offworlders likely thought as mere furnishing. She effortlessly hooked and flipped the jacket in the style of the Neshtabines, allowing the melting snow to drip into the almost invisible recessed drainage panels along the corner of the room, while leaving easy access to the arms of the jacket. Out of the corner of her eye she saw some of the Doreau raise their eyebrows, and much to her satisfaction, some of the Imperial aides. In contrast to the clearly foreign delegation, the Moff’s action made it clear who had been on-planet for a while, learning from the locals.
After all, I made this meeting happen, and Bastion had best not forget it.
Months ago she had been sent here. She knew it was a pasture job, sent away from her power centre on Tamaisy. Sent to stew on a quiet front on an impossible job. A quiet purge of the few non-Tarkinists, perhaps. Her big mouth regarding the Chiss Crisis had come back to bite her. The Empire had been unable and unwilling to make headway on Neshtab for close to a decade, so why would she be the one to succeed? Her failure would have see her demoted and pensioned off, at best.
Adera had other ideas.
Knowing that her newly-appointed ‘deputy’ back on Tamaisy was likely already undermining her local allies when she was sent here months ago, she knew she had to act fast and efficiently to get back. Utilising whatever connections she had and her experience dealing with fractured societies, she succeeded in half a year what had taken previous diplomats years to do: she made headway with dissatisfied middle managers. Of course, there was one other factor…
The Nests and Doreau had been the top dogs on Neshtab for centuries due to their size and military prowess respectively. Little surprise that resentment still brewed in the hearts of many of the middle-level leaders of the two groups, and once Adera bothered to put in the work (which admittedly caused her to drop off the grid for months), she easily found two key nexi of opposition to the current regime. Neshtabines were an honest, if cantankerous, bunch, and seldom hid their true opinions on each other.
First was High Steward Felina Kerenko. Few on Neshtab knew how large her network of Clan-allies spread, and even fewer among the Imperials. With the size of the Nest Clans and their long-standing feuds, the High Steward could easily outplay the titular leader of the Nests. The Seneschal, an easily-satisfied and peaceable elderly Duros, wouldn’t see it coming. Felina was a cautious woman, but if the rewards were right… Which was why Adera made sure to talk directly to Grand Moff Korvan on this matter and secure his signature on today’s deal, as well to let Kerenko know to attend today’s meeting.
Equally important to the conspiracy was Commander Crail Halcyon. Proud and hard-bitten, with a chip on his shoulder. His Command was one of many that were purged during the end of the previous war. Though he owed his job to the reorganisation afterward, there were things more important to the warriors of the Doreau than job security. He had become the nexus of opposition among the Doreau against the Pariah Legion’s role in the current regime, and thus commanded a lot of clout as long as the coup and Imperial occupation was framed just right.
All this she had put in her dossiers back to Bastion, and soon enough meetings escalated from clandestine messages to in-person diplomacy of high-ranking leaders, like now.
“Apologies for the delay. Did not want to be tracked, as we have quite a few VIPs with us,” she said, stepping forward and shaking hands with Halcyon, whom she had spent much of her time on-planet having to win him to the Imperial cause. She moved on to Kerenko, carefully scrutining that piercing blue stare, before heading to the Imperial side of the table.
“Honoured delegation, Baron, Commissar, may I present Elder Audke-Liia of the Stormsingers’ Guidance Circle, as well as several influential members of the Iron Network.”
These ones had been less important to the ongoing conspiracy, and in all honesty were surplus to requirements. The Stormsinger Elders here today were unlikely to provide much help, as they had their problems to deal with. Nonetheless, Kerenko had made clear that representatives of the other Collective factions was necessary to prevent fears of a Nest-Doreau takeover.
Someone asked about the danger of bringing in the droids to this discussion, but Adera spoke up:
"The Oracle does not possess executive functions. That is to say, while we know that AXION has sent a fragment to meet with the Alliance, it will not act, not induce the Iron Network to act, for or against us. Individual groups in the Network will no doubt take a side - the perils of a democracy - but that is why I have brought several influential members here, so they may better argue the case to their brethren."
The droids and Stormsingers were quickly brought up to speed to the deal proffered.
“I think I speak for all of us when I say we accept your offer, Commissar.” Kerenko and Halcyon’s names were signed at the top, while the Stormsinger and Network names appeared almost as footnotes. It was unlikely either group would put up a unified front for or against the Imperials, by Adera’s estimation, but it was the thought that counted.
"With this settled, we can begin to discuss our plans for the, ahem, contingency."
Felina Kerenko was unnerved at how quickly the Moff had ingratiated herself into the conspiracy months ago, and how much she seemed to know. Nonetheless, the High Steward had failed to wrest control of it from the Moff, and by now it was too late to try anything risky. She only hoped that Halcyon was aware of the danger.
She pointed at the presentation console, and and image was displayed on the far wall of the meeting room. She flipped through several holo-slides.
"I can keep most of the Nests busy, as can the Commander and his allies wrangle some Doreau support. The Stormsingers are busy with another matter, and are unlikely to be united in supporting accession to the Alliance or Empire either way.” Felina paused for a beat, studying the faces of the Imperials for reaction. She was not privy to the exact nature of the recent dispute among the Stormsingers. They were being more cryptic and cagey than usual, but the Nest Clan Regents loved to talk, and she managed to surmise it was an issue with off-worlders and the Force. A potent combination.
“That leaves the Iron Network. The free droids are an unruly lot used to independence and autonomy. As the Moff said, I do not see the Network acting to support the Empire, whether as a united front or as individual affinities, especially given a substantial number of them escaped their owners from areas of space now under Imperial control.” Again she paused a moment, waiting to see if the Imperials had any comments to make about the Network or its administrator/Oracle. In truth, she was worried about this factor. The Oracle AXION seemed passive, content to let the Network's members decide by consensus, but acquiescence to a foreign off-worlder power... This was a new paradigm.
"Since we can count on Imperial support, then we can act quickly to secure key locations to ensure a smooth change in government. The Old Link- the main starport- is where the Pariahs are based, so that must likely be taken by force. Other key areas are several of the larger Nests and the Doreau headquarters of Fort Netus, which we can turn to our side with speed and support. Leave those to us. With these locations secure, most of the Nests and the Doreau will fall in line. With numbers and military firepower on our side, and the Stormsingers distracted, this will cause dissension among the Network. The weakness of their cyberdemocracy: everyone is free to act in their own rational interests, so the moment some decide that opposing us i not worth it, more will calculate that it is safer to step aside. A virtuous cycle."
"There are other concerns," Halcyon spoke up, leaning forward. He pointed a gauntleted finger at the holomap of the system.
"The Wanderer Moon houses orbital defences, and we here on-planet have infrequent contact with their leaders, just as fractious and… eccentric as our communities here. It is likely that the sudden appearance of an Imperial battlefleet will cause some of the installations to fire before asking, unless we can broadcast clearance codes from the Old Link to tell them to stand down. Unfortunately, that broadcast tower is in the Council chambers in the Old Link, so transmission of that will be dependent on taking the Old Link. If it is damaged, the next best transmitter is in Fort Netus, the heart of the Doreau Command Staff, which might be difficult to storm. Although,” he pointed at several areas of the schematic. “The size of the structure means that there are opportunities to infiltrate special operations teams. If we must take Netus, my Elites will guide any Imperial special forces into the structure to seize the transmitter, while the rest of our forces will tie down the attention of loyalist forces outside the Fort itself.”
“This is the plan as currently conceived. Baron, Commissar, if there are any concerns we would like to hear it now.”
-Halcyon says yes to Nines' deal, though will not use this as an excuse to not contribute
-Stormsinger and Iron Network reps show up with Moff Adera Vellas
-Faction reps sign the deal
-Coup plan is explained
Location: Cave City Stenum-3, joint Nest-Iron Network administration, Neshtab
Tags: Binary Haze
| Hacks
| Open
Marcus was so distracted watching the broker turn a corner, he had no awareness of his surroundings. Security droids just passed as he gripped his dagger tighter, the force alchemy within it being felt by Marcus. There were all sorts of scum in the tunnel, and he had no idea what he was going to run into. He was no technological genius, which frankly, was a disadvantage in an area such as this. He had no idea where the broker was going.
He shifted his dagger in his hand, ensuring his cloak was covering it. Last thing he wanted was to attract attention. As he looked up, he tried to anticipate where the broker was going. He wasn't familiar with the layout of the city. Just then, someone off to his left bumped into him. Knocking him back. A cyborg. The ISB Agent pushed the cyborg back, more than a little annoyed. He realised he probably shouldn't try and pick a fight.
The Empire
Expansion Region | Neshtab | The Veers Redoubt, Imperial Vanguard Frontier, Undercity Outskirts Primary Objective: Await Deployment Orders Secondary Objective: Provide Armored Support To Friendly Infantry Elements Upon Deployment Friendlies: The Empire | Michael Barran
| Open For More Hostiles: Anyone That Dares Challenge the Might of The Empire | N/A Directly Engaging: N/A Gear:In Bio
Elements of the 181st Armored Division, 2nd Bn. 3rd Co. 3rd Pl. XT-62 MBTb ‘331’ | Charlie 3-1 | [Command Tank] XT-62 MBTb ‘332’ | Charlie 3-2 | Column Lead Tank XT-62 MBTb ‘333’ | Charlie 3-3 | XT-62 MBTb ‘334’ | Charlie 3-4 |
The warm and relaxing fiery orange from an antique wood stove nearby combatted the cold, blue gleam of the holotables inside the HQ dugout; the soft, mellowing crackle of flames was mostly drowned out by the voices of of Imperial men and women alike -adorned mostly in officer uniforms of the Imperial Army- engaged in conversations before holotables projecting the lay of land as they squared away the last minute preparations of a very much plausible Imperial intervention into the depths of Neshtab.
Gathered and seated around a makeshift table -fashioned from a large, empty munitions crate- the young Iron Sun recipient’s mind was adrift; elsewhere than his current surroundings, even as he held his set of playing cards in his grasp, half his attention focused on the game. Occasionally, he’d react to a muffled laughter or two from his fellow comrades, though as much as they were having fun, the Sabertooth Major Shazzeke was wiping the floor with them; Löwe and Ryker were already cleared out and out the game.
His chances appeared no brighter than theirs, if he was being honest; but the young tank commander cared not of a defeat at the seasoned Major’s hands. They were playing it for the hell of it, after all; although he understood a thing or two about the game and all, Lady Luck was not at his side when things came to gambling.
Half of his attention occupied with a different subject matter in his mind, also did little to help him in his endeavors to emerge triumphant from the game.
Mild perturbation had settled in his mind, about their possible intervention in particular; they were likely to be sent into the Nests of Neshtab. A subterranean network of cities, carved relatively deep into the hellishly cold planet.
Not only would they be facing unfavorable, and harsh urban terrain -along with several more odds against them that said terrain brought along with itself- the area of operations itself barred them the use of the might of the Empire, first and foremost; artillery pieces. Fighting in a subterranean network of cities also meant that the nature of the terrain itself also barred them from close air support assets; best they would have would be crew-serviced mortar teams when they would be out there.
This was looking to be another Dorin for the young TC. They had crushed that rebellion stirred up by the locals and aided by the assets of the Galactic Alliance, but the fighting that led up to the victory was nothing short of fierce.
<At least we’ll have functioning radios this time,> the young man thought to himself in silence, in an attempt to soothe his anxiety laden mind. He heaved a shaky sigh as he put forth a card, once the clockwise queue of the turns reached him another time; he could see his frosty breath before his eyes at the wake of his exhalation. Occasionally shivering from the cold, the young man scooched closer towards the heat radiating from the antique wood stove to warm up.
The temperature regulator of his armor had started to fail; he thought he had fixed it, giving it a once over with his standard issue armor maintenance kit, but the cold he felt said otherwise.
The body glove of his armor helped sustain his body heat, but only to a certain point.
The piercing howl of the frosty winds outside reached his ears when the door of the dugout creaked open. Like others inside the HQ, the young man would shift his gaze from the cards in his grasp, and casually looked over his shoulder; the moment his gaze met that of the Colonel, his trained and drilled, unthinking and reacting part of his brain, violently implored him to stand up at attention.
But the reaction was staved off -and with perceivable difficulty at that- when the Colonel gestured them to remain at ease.
'Just here for intel, insight an' a look at the redoubt to see if there's anything you might need help with. Covered the lattermost already, but I think I'll just leave that t'you to act on your own initiative.... Mazke Shazzeke, you clearly know who I am, so I'll save the pomp for those in need of it. Everything alright, in any case?'
Chuckling it off with a shrug, showing more that he was unperturbed than he was showing nonchalant attitudes towards his own life in general, Sabretooth Major replied,'You can buy in, we've got files here for you.... You can also tell me what you appraised.',
In silence the young Tank Commander would scooch away ever so slightly to make room for the Colonel on the table as the man sat down beside him. Correcting his posture, the young man would perfectly sit upright at his seat upon finding himself in the presence of the Colonel, out of respect for the man; unlike any other unit they in the 181th had seen however, the members of the Sabertooth had a strange comradery the rest of the legions in the Imperial Army did not fully possess.
The bonds between what one would call a lowly private, or an enlisted man, with the seasoned, veteran non-commissioned and commissioned officers, were quite interesting; the latter were like father figures to them all. They all heeded their words of wisdom, and held them in high regards. Although the young, unseasoned men of the 181th found themselves in such a seemingly relaxed environment - of course, not at all bereft of a proper chain of command- that surrounded the 313th, which gave the former the opportunity to speak their mind free of rank restrictions, something very rare in armies all across the galaxy, and without referring to their superiors as “sir” every standard second, they would never, under any circumstance, forego respect while conversing with them.
For the lack of a better word, they weren’t quite relaxed as the men of the 313th, still in the process of adapting to the feel that surrounded the esteemed Sabertooths.
Seemingly focusing on playing the game, all the while listening to the conversation between Major Shazzeke and Lord Michael, silence would befell the men gathered round the table; the young Iron Sun recipient’s ears would perk up upon realizing the Colonel was referring to him as he spoke to the Mirialan Major.
'Almost believed it was your old man before. Double take was needed for a second, but anyway - welcome to the Veers Redoubt!', correcting himself for the Druid's take whilst the next round of cards were being dealt out to all seven players.
'Thank you, Major Shazzeke - and for the respects too, but I think,"Michael", will suffice here.... Same goes for your peers, though I must admit I know this one from some-'
'Ah, promoted by your old man recently. Awards ceremony, remember?', the Mirialan quickly cut in, to which the Goidelic human's eyes widened in sudden recognition, narrowing again in natural acquiescent nods to the revelation. After this, Michael extended a kindly offer of a handshake in greeting a fellow appreciator of tank-combat nuances, to which the offer was met in the acceptant middle as Mazke concluded,'Hall, meet Michael Barran; Michael, meet Hall Mannarra.... Let heroes meet kindred in merit, history is made on less.',
”Sir.” the young man would politely mutter in response. With a firm grasp of his hand, the young Sergeant would accept the Colonel's handshake without a second thought; as he shifted his gaze at the Colonel, the dancing flames from the wood stove lightly shone off the young man’s silver cockade resembling the famous Cataphract, that adorned his black tanker’s beret. ”It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
At the rekindled memories of that battle, waged against the Alliance in the hellish arctic terrain similar to Neshtab’s, Mannarra would fall silent for a moment, shifting his gaze back on to the cards in his grasp. ”If only the Navy had their shit together, sir,” the young man commented, with an underlying bitterness of defeat; on the ground they had ensured the destruction of the GADF ground forces, but the gains they had acquired through sweat and blood could not be capitalized on with the lack of a navy. They needed their support to ensure the GADF forces were fully wiped out.
”Language, Sergeant.” the young commanding officer of the platoon, Lieutenant Löwe Donnal, sat across from him on the table, warned him politely. ”Apologies, sir!” the young man would be quick to raise an apology in response to the Lieutenant as he played his hand once it was his turn once more.
”At least they won’t forget their losses any time soon.”
"That is... very generous, Baron. Given the nature of the battle ahead, we would be remiss not to contribute and act as scouts for your soldiers. It would be best to minimise the blood shed between comrades, but at the same time, as we say here, 'the mouth that commands is the hand that acts'. We will not shy away from fighting if the need is urgent."
He had given the commander the option to deploy a small scouting force to test his loyalty, seeing just how committed he was to Imperial rule. Had he hesitated or immediately accepted, the Baron would have recognized that the allegiance of the Doreau lay squarely with the Doreau, with the Empire being little more than a politically convenient ally. Within that atmosphere, it would not be hard to imagine many of the "pro-Imperial" Doreau defecting the moment the pro-Alliance Doreau made even a slight gain. However, Commander Halcyon's rebuttal was surprisingly good news for the Baron. Now, he knew that he could count on the commander's Doreau to fight not only for their own benefit, but for that of their future Imperial patrons.
Suddenly, a third delegation entered the fray, headed by a lone Moff.
The Baron listened in curiously as she introduced their new guests and opened with the contingency plan.
It was thorough and clearly well-planned, with protocols in place for everything from entering Neshtab's orbit to securing its population centers. Still, the Baron had a few questions.
"The Wanderer Moon houses orbital defences, and we here on-planet have infrequent contact with their leaders, just as fractious and… eccentric as our communities here. It is likely that the sudden appearance of an Imperial battlefleet will cause some of the installations to fire before asking, unless we can broadcast clearance codes from the Old Link to tell them to stand down. Unfortunately, that broadcast tower is in the Council chambers in the Old Link, so transmission of that will be dependent on taking the Old Link. If it is damaged, the next best transmitter is in Fort Netus, the heart of the Doreau Command Staff, which might be difficult to storm. Although,” he pointed at several areas of the schematic. “The size of the structure means that there are opportunities to infiltrate special operations teams. If we must take Netus, my Elites will guide any Imperial special forces into the structure to seize the transmitter, while the rest of our forces will tie down the attention of loyalist forces outside the Fort itself.”
"SOC and the 908th's SFD can help pull off an infiltration on Netus." replied the Baron. "However, we will be relying heavily on your Elites for guidance. If possible, send any virtual schematics of the building my way. A detachment of the 908th will assist the Doreau in enveloping the fort and pinning down the Alliance sympathizers. Once again, the intel your Elites provide will be absolutely vital to help the 908th find a landing point and reach the fort unmolested. All I ask is that you maintain communications and share plans with the Imperial Army."
Now that FN-999 was more confident in the loyalty of Commander Halcyon's Doreau, he was willing to use them as efficiently and extensively as possible.
"Since we can count on Imperial support, then we can act quickly to secure key locations to ensure a smooth change in government. The Old Link- the main starport- is where the Pariahs are based, so that must likely be taken by force. Other key areas are several of the larger Nests and the Doreau headquarters of Fort Netus, which we can turn to our side with speed and support. Leave those to us. With these locations secure, most of the Nests and the Doreau will fall in line. With numbers and military firepower on our side, and the Stormsingers distracted, this will cause dissension among the Network. The weakness of their cyberdemocracy: everyone is free to act in their own rational interests, so the moment some decide that opposing us i not worth it, more will calculate that it is safer to step aside. A virtuous cycle."
According to his intel and now confirmed by Steward Kerenko, the Old Link was among the most strategically important locations on Neshtab. If the Empire took the Old Link, their operational range would extend over the entire planet and enough supplies could be shipped in to support a large army indefinitely. The Pariah Legion was likely just as aware of this fact, and resistance would be stiff.
"The majority of the Imperial ground force will be deployed on the Old Link." continued the Baron, turning to face the Steward. "We anticipate stiff resistance, and we will need all the assistance we can get here. If you or Commander Halcyon have intel on the doctrine of the leading Pariah commanders or the physical structure of the Old Link, I will need it ASAP in order to properly plan an assault on it."
FN-999 now turned away from any one delegate, swiveling his body as he faced the delegation as a whole.
"Once more, I cannot speak for the political elements of Neshtab's future in the Imperial fold. The questions of the Iron Network and the future of the Nests are best left to Commissar Korvan."
"I have just one more question."concluded the Baron, turning to face Commander Halcyon once more.
Over the course of their discussion, FN-999 had begun to feel a sense of kinship with the Doreau. Here was a people dominated by a martial culture not unlike that of his own legion, their bodies hardened by their training and harsh mountainous environment. Already, he was beginning to envision recruiting some of the Doreau into the 908th, their battle prowess and unique expertise of the ROCKET system making them great auxiliary scouts or jump troopers. The Baron was no career politician, but even he knew how to best ingratiate the Empire in general and the 908th in particular to the wise Doreau who had chosen to become their allies.
Location: Neshtab Objective: Destory an encampment
Tag:Kelinna Tryn
Silas took a deep breath in the cold atmosphere of Neshtab, his breath turning into steam as it went into the atmosphere of the planet. Right now he was alone, stomping over the hard ground toward the encampment he was assigned to destroy. He didn't know how he was going to do it yet, but the vantage point he was traveling to would give him a good idea. Adjusting his small backpack, Silas sighed before slowly climbing up the large hill to overlook the camp in question.
The padawan went prone and peeked over the tundra ground, double checking what was in front of him before he pulled out a scope from his back. Sure, he wasn't going to shoot a blaster today but it was going to be useful in seeing what was down there. Silas held the attachment to his eye and zoomed into the figure that was wondering around. There were many figures walking around down there, many in view and some in the shadows that were yet to be seen. It wouldn't be a problem as long as he went to the center unseen, the spot where he was going to arm the explosives in his bag.
Before deploying he was shown by soldiers how to prepare and detonate the explosive he was carrying. Thankfully, they gave him ample practice before coming out so he wouldn't freeze at the moment. Thinking for a second, he lowered the scope and placed it back in his bag to sneak down to the encampment quietly.
The boy moved through the environment and managed to the camp, his body lowered and treading carefully beside the tents. One noise could cause a whole heap of trouble, and he'd be the one paying the price if they found him.
Hacks didn't see the man coming, her mind occupied in the vast intangible Net. The cyborg hardly felt the shove, but the bark snapped her back into meatspace, "Watch where your going." She stared down at the cloaked man, towering over him, four mechanical arms flexed. She didn't have time for this, she had to find Binary. She snorted back, "Don't touch me again, or you'll lose an arm." When she shoved back at the man she did so with her two right arms, with strength only a machine could produce.
THE NESTAB CRISISI: AGGRESSIVE NEGOTIATIONS
-AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY-
CAIRN_ONE RINGLEADER OF THE PELLAEONIST CLIQUE (AWAITING STAND-DOWN ORDERS) WARDEN OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS (AWAITING STAND-DOWN ORDERS) DRUID-GRANDMASTER OF THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD
With hands meeting in the middle, the respect in the grasp of both was felt, and with a little added Force magic, (ever so subtle though it was) a little trust was thrown in the young tank-commander's direction also. A gesture that was enough for the likes of Lord-Colonel Barran to make, as he knew what the 181st and the Highland Armoured Battalion went through in order to draw the fire of the GADF on Ilum, and knew exactly what would have gone through his mind in the wild feigned retreat, knowing exactly what kind of steely resolve was needed to follow such orders without error.
'It's an honour to meet you, sir.'
This was one bearing the mark of a true tank-commander, or at least as according to any and all Goidels who were there that day to see and participate alongside such endeavours, and though it took the Wanderer a moment or two to let the realisation hit him properly, the name,"Mannarra", itself eventually served as a great catalyst to memory-jogging quick enough to avoid making a fool of himself. After all, Lord Michael should have known it was Hall upon the mere utterance of his name, as his subordinates had plenty to say of the 181st, speaking more praise of the tank operators than they were of the infantry-led 313th majority by the time everyone withdrew to safety, and mentioning the mettle they showed in agreeing to follow the seemingly-mad instructions of their Goidelic colleagues.
But most of all, for agreeing and playing their part when it mattered most to do so.
'Ilum! Of course, I remember reading those debrief reports.... Fair play, Hall. Fair play indeed.'
Now I know what the funny look towards the IMPAF tanker was all about! Father sees it too.... Glimpses o' the auld Blue-Heart Brigade.
It wasn't very often the Lord-Regent was ever reminded of such glories, but in the very beating heart of this newfound understanding, the son who remained would begin to see something else hidden behind the gestures and the actions of his father. Even if only just a little, trifling clue of the truth Lord Erskine was hiding from view, it was enough for Lord Michael himself to think of home for a moment; however, like the old man appeared to be attempting privately, the son who remained would make ease of putting thoughts of Galidraan III to the back of his mind, keeping An-Cridhean firmly in the core of his heart - as his wondrous homeworld always had been.
As it would remain, always.
'If only the Navy had their shit together, sir.'
An interesting development, but what was most interesting to Barran was the fact such a sentiment was spoken from the lips of someone who would have archetypally rested somewhere between Felism and Tarkinism, and to hear such talk from that same someone who was there to see the disastrous effect it had on Imperial cohesion as a result, it seemed like Mannarra himself was the real icing on the cake of revelation. From that point onwards, the observance would take severe precedence in the Druid's mind, reading the room as Lieutenant Donnal quickly cut in,'Language, Sergeant.', and in the process of instilling better spoken-etiquette, inadvertently proving he somewhat agreed with the truth and the implications revealed in Sergeant Mannarra's openly-stated opinion.
'Apologies, sir!'
Showing to such an obvious extent that not even Major Shazzeke seemed to mind the comment very much, or it's implications for the already icy relationship between IMPAF and the Imperial Navy for that matter.
'At least they won't forget their losses any time soon.'
As the turn had fallen to the Druid, he watched the tank-commander as he raised on the Mirialan's bet, then after matching the bets of the others not a moment later he finally weighed in by starting,'Quite right, Sergeant. An' not a single collateral death noted or claimed from our part in that endeavour, ringing true in the butcher's bill on both sides by the way.... Quick an' clean, as all our attacks ought to be.', pausing to snatch up the reports and load them onto his personal datapad as he pondered on the results of their fight on Ilum. It was no secret that the underutilised mechanised elements in the snow had cost the Imperial contingent greatly, losing enough ground, lives and morale that it prompted an act of desperation from the Imperial fleet, one such that was promised to be accurate; but like all engineering collectives in the Galaxy, a grand construct was only as strong and precise as it's most incompetent technician, destroying the Empire's illusion of infallibility in the process.
'Disregarding that f-... That Superlaser an' whatnot, weapons-systems command be damned an' all that caper. I'm sure you're tired o' hearing about the details by now, but still-'
Musing over what he remembered of the debrief report with the screen of his datapad coming to life in a near-strobe flashing effect, Lord Michael showed brief irritation as he cast the device to one side and dimmed the brightness for the sake of his already-aching retinae before he continued,'It actually gladdens me that elements of the trooper class were there to see the Brotherhood an' the 181st in action, defending the same ground for which the Blue-Hearts fought, bled and died proudly in the winter of '65.... I know the Sabretooths liked it anyway, look at where you're sitting now for reference.', remembering exactly why he accepted orders to mobilise on Ilum in the first place. There was still hope for the Hearts and Minds approach, proven true for more than just the Empire's citizenry by then, and for as long as hope remained for the likes of young Hall, then the soldiering class was still worth the effort.
Even then, even after all the wrongs of yesteryear, hope was there to remain for ones who obeyed without question, for hope was contained within the vocalised despair and disappointment, desperately trying to claw it's way out. But even then, Barran knew that such hopes were always hard-fought before, and knew that he would have been stupid to think his own journey would be any different. The same rang especially true for the powerless ones who fought with this in mind, giving rise to the Druid's understanding that without the desire for peace, the Second Great Hyperspace War would only continue to ravage it's belligerent factions in perpetuity, unabashedly rag-dolling the Galaxy hither and yon until there were none left to attack, defend or infiltrate.
Calm was needed in the Age of Strife, and with none willing to soothe and salve the Galaxy's many gaping wounds, it seemed strange that a large part of this heavy-weighing mantle was falling to a former-Tarkinist to carry, and the irony certainly wasn't lost on the Druid in moments like these.
"SOC and the 908th's SFD can help pull off an infiltration on Netus." replied the Baron. "However, we will be relying heavily on your Elites for guidance. If possible, send any virtual schematics of the building my way. A detachment of the 908th will assist the Doreau in enveloping the fort and pinning down the Alliance sympathizers. Once again, the intel your Elites provide will be absolutely vital to help the 908th find a landing point and reach the fort unmolested. All I ask is that you maintain communications and share plans with the Imperial Army."
"The majority of the Imperial ground force will be deployed on the Old Link." continued the Baron, turning to face the Steward. "We anticipate stiff resistance, and we will need all the assistance we can get here. If you or Commander Halcyon have intel on the doctrine of the leading Pariah commanders or the physical structure of the Old Link, I will need it ASAP in order to properly plan an assault on it."
Halcyon signalled for a datapad to be brought to him.
"Some data we analysed and compiled from the civil war a couple of years back. I will get my AdC to send the rest when there is time. Rest assured, my Elites will lead the way while the rest will join the bulk in keeping our enemies pinned, wherever the culmination point of the battle ends up being."
"Once more, I cannot speak for the political elements of Neshtab's future in the Imperial fold. The questions of the Iron Network and the future of the Nests are best left to Commissar Korvan."
Halcyon gave a small smile. Here was a leader who acted. Perhaps the Imperial fold would not be so cold. His foolish notion from earlier might come to fruition earlier than expected...
"The Alliance has no stomach for conquest. It offers worlds an opportunity to join a wider community -- to share its spoils, and at times distribute its pains in turn. The Will of the people of member worlds is foremost on its collective mind. If a world chose to welcome the Empire, the Alliance would be forced to evaluate the situation before determining whether it was coerced or of their own free-will; and then decide on a course of action."
Nice words, but it did align broadly with what his subordinates and the other factions' leaders said of the Alliance.
"Mutual cooperation and prosperity... Not unlike the Collective, I suppose."
The Pariahs themselves had been a tough job to weld together. Civilians, Sith-Imperial deserters, a dozen Graug warbands... Ironhide had welded them together through strength and leadership, yes, but just as much of the hard work fell on the lower-level civilian and military Tribunes who were willing to trust strangers in their darkest hours.
"Throughout the duration of these negotiations, however," Vexx continued, "the Alliance will ensure the safety of all delegation members and their guests. The Empire would be foolish to launch a direct assault on a diplomatic convoy. Better to merely make it clear such a delegation is no longer wanted and escort them outside of the system." A slight narrowing of the eyes, and a tightening of the lips accompanied her inflection of 'guests' earlier. Another moment for them to read into what she said without having said anything either the Empire or Alliance would fault. "And if the Empire chose to launch an invasion now while we are still having these discussions, I will personally assure you they will be forced to slow that advance. Only for a time, however, but long enough."
Commander Chrysala Starcross, one of the ranking Command Staff of the Doreau, spoke up from beside Ironhide.
"You can count on our soldiers to stand their ground in this eventuality. The Lord Protector and us, meaning the Doreau, have already prepared contingencies."
As for AXION and the Network," the Senator came back around to the matter, "I am eager to learn more about your people," a word she did not stumble over even if it may or may not be accurate. "There is certain to be a way to reconcile matters no matter past transgressions or fears. The Alliance is a diverse community with many opportunities to make use of almost any skill set."
AXION flashed a message on Ironhide's communicator, below his desk on the meeting table. Something about the recent droid riots in the Alliance.
"I would be interested to hear what these opportunities would be, and if they will ensure our brethren of metal are not... repatriated back to former owners."
He attached his comm link to his waist and slowly unsheathed his dagger, hiding it with his cloak. Without a seconds thought he pursued the supposed broker. He had to reach the information before anyone else. He knew he couldn't be the only one chasing her, so he kept an eye out as he run, for a second he thought he spotted someone moving in their direction, but he thought nothing of it.
He shifted his dagger in his hand, ensuring his cloak was covering it. Last thing he wanted was to attract attention. As he looked up, he tried to anticipate where the broker was going. He wasn't familiar with the layout of the city. Just then, someone off to his left bumped into him. Knocking him back. A cyborg. The ISB Agent pushed the cyborg back, more than a little annoyed. He realised he probably shouldn't try and pick a fight.
She snorted back, "Don't touch me again, or you'll lose an arm." When she shoved back at the man she did so with her two right arms, with strength only a machine could produce.
Binary Haze
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Hacks
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