All That Glitters (Cabal Rebellion of Iron Empire Held Copero Hex)

[Gorba the Hutt]

​

REBELLION OF COPERO​

​

Gorba rubbed his moist, sausage fingered hands together in glee as he reviewed the plan again.

[SIZE=11pt]“[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Grancha. Grancha.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Again, Great Gorba?” asked a rather morose looking Givin. Poor Ni’gel, he’s gotten himself in deep with the crime lords this time.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Tagwa.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Of course.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]And thus, Ni’gel relayed to Gorba the Hutt for the second time the precise nature of what was about to happen.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]It all started when the Cabal caught wind of an Iron Empire battlegroup in for repairs at the Copero Shipyards. Long having coveted the delectable designs, the crime lords saw a chance to take their pick from the cornucopia. The Iron Empire is not what it once was and, far from the rest of the galaxy, has not suffered the same crucible of war as other nations.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Naturally, this opportunity could not be passed by, but crime lords - especially Hutts - are notoriously loath to use their own resources to do, well, anything. Why do yourself what you can have others do for you?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]And so they sent word through third parties to extremist cells and reasonably unreliable mercenaries of the opportunity of a lifetime. After all, one star destroyer was worth billions of credits. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Greed or idealism would draw malicious actors in, or so the crime lords hoped. In the meantime, they developed their own stratagem of attack.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Herglics made spacious ships to accommodate their, ahem, [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]unique[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] physiology. But the cetacean engineers who designed the Tallaan-class series of cargo cruisers probably never thought that one day a gang of no-good, meddling, mouthbreathers would hijack some of those cruisers and stuff them to the gills with explosives. No pun intended, as cetaceans do not in fact have gills. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]To cut to the chase - and no, not the fashion company - several of these roomy cruisers were packed with munitions and sent on their merry way through hyperspace, straight for the defensive emplacements surrounding the Copero Shipyards.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The HIMS drives aboard the cruisers were originally installed to prevent pirates from ripping them out of hyperspace mid-transit. Today, they serve a different purpose. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Many planets with orbital shipyards had defensive systems set up to prevent ships from jumping in too close to the shipyards. Of course, if those incoming ships were equipped with HIMS drives that simply wouldn’t work as intended.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]While the cargo cruisers headed straight for any defense platforms, a number of junky, but sensibly well-armed freighters jumped in behind them. Albeit at a safe distance. The captains of these little boats had credits glistening in their eyes, heads spinning with the promise of vast riches from the likes of Nadir, Coratanni, Bareesh, and Helix.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Few, if any, would survive to cash in on such promises. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]You see, the crime lords of the Cabal simply did not trust mercenaries. In fact, to say they even trusted each other would be stretching the meaning of the word. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The real “plan” did not rely on a collection of gung-ho derelicts and a few shiny fireships. No, instead the Cabal had poured their resources into a team of cloaked shuttles, which jumped in at the same time as the other freighters to mask their hyperspace signatures. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Cloaked shuttles which, at this very moment, are headed for the docked warships.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]And what of Gorba? Safely tucked away in a palace on the other side of the galaxy, eating a three course meal that consists of just as many exotic endangered species served by beautiful slaves as unapparalled as imagination suggests. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Oh, to be a Hutt. [/SIZE]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CPhXKak_bHw​

Song Choice Courtesy of [member="Tytos Ardik"]​

​

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[member="Isamu Baelor"] | [member="Aster Rose Baelor"] | [member="Jordan Warren"] | [member="Zeradias Mant"]

[member="Helix Syndicate"] | [member="Coratanni Cartel"] | [member="Aver Brand"]

[SIZE=11pt]​[member="Jethro Rekali"][/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666984558105px] | [/SIZE][member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Cato Fett"] | [member="Erendiz Kahn"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Koda Fett"]

OOC Thread:
http://starwarsrp.net/topic/122633-ooc-all-that-glitters-cabal-rebellion-of-iron-empire-held-copero-hex/

 

[Jethro Rekali]

DEEP SPACE
THE BLOOD TRAIL
OUTSIDE IRON EMPIRE TERRITORY

On the longest, loneliest hyperroute in the galaxy, real warships weren't the commonest sight. So the red-hulled armada - battleships, freighters, escorts - might have scared a few passersby. The occasional traveler turned and hauled tail as soon as possible, but they weren't pursued or fired upon. Clan Rekali wasn't here to fight, for once, not unless strictly necessary.

Pity. After hard time in a Wookiee jail, Jethro Rekali could have used a good fight.

His B-wing looped around the clan flagship, the Like Hell. Scarred ablative armor, all aftermarket, covered the Skira-class battleship. Its dorsal Vulcan cannon pointed straight down the Blood Trail at the reversion points closest to the Iron Empire. Jethro kept an eye on those vectors, both by sensors and through the bomber’s cockpit. Soon enough, if all went according to plan, there'd be a comparable armada showing up. Not to fight, though.

The Clan retained certain underworld contacts, long-standing relationships, and access to quiet channels. Today, that meant anyone going shipjacking in Iron Empire space would have a friend in the Rekalis. An old Banking Clan frigate could use a high-security holocomm to dole out quick credit transfers. Transports held ganker limpets aplenty - bulk freighter hyperdrives, linked to send ships off to several kinds of wherever. Uncharted nebula surrounded this stretch of the Blood Trail, and Clan Rekali excelled at carving operational space out of otherwise impassable nebulae.

Today, any given Clan Rekali customer had a straightforward course ahead of them. Steal ships. Sell ships. Get quick credits. Have a nice day. A thousand-meter holographic sign declared as much.

Jethro flipped through presets on the subspace comm - music, chatter, minor unsecured reports. An operation like this was a community, an extended family without much in the way of blood connection. Voices filtered through his cockpit, and songs from the disparate cultures that made up the Rekali. Half a dozen languages and dialects were on display: Dathomiri Paecean, Mando’a, Clan patois, and more. Bits of trade languages wove through as the Clan struck deals with passing convoys, defectors, looters, or refugees. A few small ships changed hands and flitted off, studded in ganker limpets - the first taste of the feast to come.

He settled on a traditional Vahla anthem for adrenaline purposes.

https://youtu.be/o1tj2zJ2Wvg

 

[Coratanni Cartel]

Cloaked Shuttle Besh - Copero Space
Matthis Thawne

A small yawn pulled through his lips, eyes closed as he leaned back against the bulkhead.

He always tried to get some sleep before this sort of thing. Fighting was something that you generally wanted to be awake as possible for, and a lot of people neglected that fact. They would stay up for hours before, drinking, partying, trying to psyche themselves up as much as possible for the coming fight. It was the wrong way to do it though. When you went into a battle you wanted to be well rested, awake, and not trying to run around with a hangover.

Common sense was the most important thing a soldier could have. It was surprising how many people failed at that.

Of course, for many of the Coratanni troops surrounding him that wasn't much of an issue.

The Synthetic Enforcers were Human Replica Droids, creatures that had been crafted by his mother and father at their little pet project over Zeltros. They could fight well enough, follow direction and last longer than any other kind of soldier, but they weren't very talkative. Matthias found that somewhat unsettling, not that he'd never mention it out loud.

The sound of a buzzer went off over head, his eyes opening as he looked around the back of the small shuttle. The motley collection of criminals were all trying to psyche themselves up. Some were following the Hutt's, others Nadir, and still others from an organization that Matthias didn't recognize. The Cabal was surprisingly far reaching for what it was, and he often found it entertaining just what, and who, the group managed to dig up for these little missions.

He shrugged slightly, drawing his blaster from it's holster and checking it's charge.

 

[Azimuth Industries]

Cloaked Shuttle Besh - Copero Space

​

Keeta "the Jester" stood inside the shuttle near the back with the rest of his pack. The Ganks didn't speak to each other, not with spoken words. The neural transmitters inside each of their skulls did all the talking, transmitting communication between each other at the speed of thought. Still not in words, but with a collection of feelings and images far more clear than any alphabet.

Right now images of violence and giddy anticipation jumped between the transmitters.

The pack was ready.

Keeta, busy wiping down his KD-30 Dissuader, felt the same building thrill. The killing would begin soon, when they landed. Personally, he couldn't wait.

The Hutt had sent two others with them. Jilruans in deep purple robes. They didn't take their hoods down, but they didn't have to for Keeta to know who they were: Godsheart Seers, from Kazbog's cult.

Probably sent there to make sure he behaved. Underneath his chipped, yellow helmet, Keeta smiled.

[member="Coratanni Cartel"]

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

COPERO SHIPYARDS
HANGAR BAY - DOCKED FREIGHTER

[member="Bareesh Kajidic"] | [member="Coratanni Cartel"] | [member="Jethro Rekali"]​

It was a rinky dink freighter, docked here on the shipyards to refuel on their way to Csilla. They were, allegedly, hauling some novelty imports for sale to the Chiss. Allegedly. There were a few crates scattered around the cargo hold, where two of the vessel's three occupants were currently getting ready for the actual reason they had shown up today. The third was in the cockpit, fiddling around with a specialized computer mainframe. Something else that had been specially brought in for today.

Grigori hoisted his belt, then rotated it so the large device attached to it came off to his side instead of right in front of him. That was more comfortable to be sure, but made it a little more difficult to access, didn't it? Or was that not even a problem? Felix had said you just turn the thing on and then don't have to worry about it, the power supply had been boosted. Or something. "Derrenger," Grigori said, addressing the vicious looking Trandoshan currently affixing his own belt. "Am I wearing this correctly?"

Derrenger stopped what he was doing to half-look over his shoulder at Grigori. "Have you never put on a belt before?" There was an audible click as Derrenger's belt was fastened successfully. Grigori noticed that it did not appear his device was off to the side like his. Which was fine, but wearing it that way irritated Grigori. The device must have chaffed him.

"Of course I have!" Grigori said, "Is just, usually there is no big attachment. Like this one."

"It doesn't matter. Wear it however you want."

"Ah, I see." Grigori turned his belt again and took an experimental step forward.

This was not comfortable either.

He turned it around again, so now the device was over the small of his back. "See, now it is being too tight this way."

"You got two minutes to decide."

"Perhaps if I were to wear it as a sort of head-band."

Derrenger inhaled slowly through his nose. "Just turn it towards the front." He was trying to be calmer. New Year's resolution and all that. The meditation helped. Grigori did not. The Sakiyan rotated the belt until the device was pointing forwards. Again, Grigori took a cautionary step forward.

"Are you sure this is right?"

Derrenger began to growl.

 

[Aster Rose Baelor]

With the collapse of the Iron Empire a state of emergency has been declared and any ships stationed on all Iron Imperial planets had long departed for another location to participate in one final battle leaving no Iron Imperial vessels at the shipyards and in the system. Only a modest group of Iron Imperial soldiers to serve as the defense of the planets they left behind. Unaware of the impending danger they may soon face, these men and women proceeded with their day as if it were any other.

“Think they’ll be back for us?” one of the Iron Imperial soldiers asked as they looked up towards the sky longingly. His eyes were brimming with hope.

“Probably not,” his squad mate, replied truthfully. “And before you call me a pessimist, just let me say that I am not. I’m a realist. Things must not be looking too good if all the ships were summoned to that battle.”

“True,” the first man replied. There was a hint of sadness in his tone. His wife was a member of one of the ships’ crew and the very thought of never being able to caress her soft hair, and hold her hand which had always looked so tiny wrapped in his was enough to make him tear up. “Call yourself a realist,” he started after a short pause. “But I choose to hope.”

“Do what you want,” the second shrugged. “I’m just glad that I was assigned a safe post.”

Just as the man had finished speaking, the squad leader, having overheard their conversation, approached. “Don’t get distracted,” he frowned. “Even in our current circumstances, we must remain committed to the duty assigned to us,” he scolded his men.

“Though our numbers are few and scattered, we will defend this planet from any threat that may appear,” he spoke with steeled resolve.

“If we get attacked that is,” the second man interrupted with a smirk.

[member="Helix Syndicate"] - [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] - [member="Coratanni Cartel"] - [member="Jethro Rekali"] - [member="Gorba the Hutt"]​

 

[Zeradias Mant]

Zera sat on the bridge of the ISV Resolute, staring aimlessly into the void. The news had taken him by surprise, and was no doubt troubling. All was as he'd forseen. Economic problems, while boring, could singlehandedly bring about the collapse of an empire. In this case, it was only a part of the equation. Coupled with the strict policy of isolationism and it's failure to truly involve itself in intergalactic affairs, the Iron Empire was no different than any other government in it's own corner of space. A progressive vice regent was powerless to make progressive changes if his appointer did not sanction it. Nonetheless, he did what he could behind closed doors to minimize the impact when the house of cards came falling down.

He'd summoned the bulk of planetary leadership and had began to return complete individual autonomy back to the states. Decentralizing the power of the throne was the most effective way to minimize the impact of the constituent vassal states when the central government inevitably collapsed. Still though, Zeradias hadn't expected it to happen so soon. Despite having resigned his commission as the Chief of Naval Operations, he still kept tabs on happenings in the Iron Imperial Navy. His successor was named almost instantly after his departure, a Chiss woman and the most junior flag officer in the Navy. It was no doubt a political move to maintain ties with the Chiss Ascendancy, one of the emperor's oldest and most important allies, unknowingly countering the secret plans Zeradias had been working to implement.

"Sir, navy channels report the fleet is amassing at Rhigar. Some sort of conflict, we don't know the details yet.", the comms officer reported. Zeradias didn't acknowledge. He knew what was happening, and he was scathing that he didn't see it happening. Scorched earth. As the empire collapsed, so would the tenets that held it up. The central government had collapsed - which means, the Crown and the military were to be obliterated with it.

With a furious anger, Zeradias stood up and gave his marching orders.

"Go, NOW!", he ordered. His troops had paused, shocked. He'd never raised his voice before, and it was unlikely anyone would witness him do it again. Not waiting too long, they punched the ship into hyperspace. When they arrive in Rhigar, chaos would surely follow.

[member="Aster Rose Baelor"]​

 

[Nadir]

“Haaaaum. Welcome.”

The towering, expansive form of Mobius D’ikhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/91872-mobius-dik/ stood at the foot of the ramp as the rustbucket finally puttered into dock. He had an expensive aurodium watch back at home, but the digital numbers ticking away on his HUD counted time just the same.

“You’re late, my friends,” he said, and meant it. “What kept you?” A heavy flipper clapped Derringer’s shoulder – Grigori avoided the same fate simply because he would’ve been knocked to the ground.

Such was the force of his amity.

Turning towards the bustle of Copero, D’ik began to lead the pair into the shipyards proper. The menial task of unloading the freighter would be left to the rest of the crew.

The good, the bad, and the ugly had important business yet.

[member="Coratanni Cartel"] | [member="Helix Syndicate"] | [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] | [member="Jethro Rekali"] | [member="Aster Rose Baelor"] | [member="Zeradias Mant"]​

 

[Joy]

The pirate ship of Ben Brijj & Co. waited at the edge of the Copero system with the other freighters.

"Captain, I don't see a battlegroup."

Smallgrin glared through the viewport. "Lyin' Hutt scum."

Indeed, there did not appear to be a battlegroup docked at the shipyards. There were, however, incomplete ships in the process of being built. Additionally, deep space sensors detected lots of movement near Rhigar.

Decisions...

"Hmph, take us to Rhigar. We'll see what we can salvage later."

​

[member="Zeradias Mant"]​

 

[Tristram Senan]

Location: An alley, Copero
Objective: Deal with this hangover
Allies: None currently
Enemies: 0 too
Equipment: Heavy blaster pistol, lightsaber (hidden on person), and vibroblade

Black. Black. Black. Pain. Black. Pain. Pain. Pain. And then with fluttered arrival came light. Tristram came back to life with a low groan as brightness seeped through to his yellow eyes. Splitting pain filled his head and his entire body felt like salted fish. Why did he feel ready for death's sweet embrace right now? Clunk. The echo of glass rolling filled his ears like giant bells. His head sluggishly moved to look at the cause of much pain to see an empty bottle that had slipped from his hand. It had no label. He was drinking. Right, right. Last night he had gone a little overboard. Where was he though? The bar? The rank of piss and vomit and stagnant water told him otherwise. His eyes lazily squinted around taking everything in. Walls, walls, opening to a street, another wall. He was in an alley. That explained a lot.

Pushing himself up to his feet, Tristram heard some more groans around him. The others that had foolishly joined him in his overabundance of merriment. Dock workers, factory mechanics, and laborers mostly from what little he remembered. He had drunk them under the table, or trash lids, before they all past out together. They didn't show signs of waking up or at least getting up soon. Poor souls. The only one that did seem ready to join him in the miserable land of the living was the one military sort. A chiss woman nearing what must have been her thirties. He couldn't remember if she was a soldier or an officer or what. All he knew was she kept up with his drinking for the most part and had kneed some guy in the groin that night. Why did she do that again? Oh right, he grabbed her rear while spilling his drink all over her shirt. Kark went down harder than artillery fire over an open field. He offered his hand to help her up, which she gratefully took. At least that was how he saw it. For all he knew she might not even have realized it was him and just thought some being was about to take her into the heavens above. That sounded like a much better event than reality was being right now.

" Know any cures for a hangover?" Tristram whispered as the woman got to her feet.

" Yeah. Follow me. Medic back at base can treat us." She whispered back before shielding her eyes and heading into the awful light.

" I pray for a swift death for you friends. Until next time." Tristram whispered to his fallen companions as he went to follow his partner in misery.

[member="Aster Rose Baelor"] [member="Zeradias Mant"] [member="Nadir"] [member="Helix Syndicate"] [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] [member="Coratanni Cartel"] [member="Jethro Rekali"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Smallgrin Ben"]

Spoiler

OOC: I will narrow down my tag list next time once I have a better idea of where everyone is at and doing what.

 

[Kiran Arlos]

One drink won't hurt would it? The young man inquired as he entered a well known bar that the Legionaries frequented quite often. Kiran really wasn't one to drink but given the state of things one at the current time wouldn't be too bad. All the fleet had been called to fight somewhere in the further reaches of space leaving behind a force large enough to at least withstand an attack. Kiran in the recent months hadn't committed hardly any time to the Iron Empire dealing with his own personal troubles and just upon his return he heard through the grapevine that it was falling into decay and was soon disbanded.

It was quite the tragedy for him as this place was really the truest place that he called home and it wold seem that fate would require him to find someplace else to call.

Himself along with four other members arrived in and took a seat at the bar as they the bartender came forward and began to pour them a set of shots.

Kiran would indeed miss these times as the began to reminisce on old time, all the while waiting for anything crazy to happen so they could respond to it. The young man never once regretted his time here, he did wish however that perhaps he could've done more to help. Which he knew that he could've...Too late for that now wasn't it? They each took a shot glass and raised it up slowly they all spoke in unison

"To the Iron Empire."


[member="Zeradias Mant"] [member="Aster Rose Baelor"]

 

[Azimuth Industries]

Copero

Orbital Shipyards

The cloaked shuttle settled down next to a rustbucket of a freighter, sublight engine wash a dull thrum. The ramp lowered. The Gank squad made their way out of the shuttle, followed by the robed Jilruans.

Keeta saw that the station team was already on their way to execute the plan. He fell in with the Herglic, the Trandoshan, and the Sakiyan.

"Hey."

Speaking Basic was so troublesome, he usually didn't even bother. How these barbarian no-cybs got by communicating their intentions through a 26 letter alphabet boggled him.

[member="Helix Syndicate"] | [member="Nadir"] | [member="Coratanni Cartel"] | [member="Aster Rose Baelor"]

 

[Aster Rose Baelor]

Hope was lost. Nothing was left. The soldier who had chosen to hope, to believe there was a tomorrow for the Iron Empire was left with a hole in his heart and a bitter taste in his mouth. The Iron Imperial fleet that had amassed at Rhigar had fell victim to an ambush by the enemies of the Iron Empire and were completely wiped out and beyond repair. The only ships that remained in that area were those of the enemies: the ones who had caused the complete annihilation of the entire Iron Imperial fleet.

"Linda..." the man sobbed, mourning over the loss of his wife. As a child he was taught to be strong, and to never cry in the presence of others but kark that, the love of his life was dead and he probably would not even have a body to bury. To not have a chance to say goodbye was a horrible thing.

"Linda...I'm sorry. Sorry that we never got to go on that vacation together, sorry that I was ever able to express how much I love you, and for every argument I had caused... and... and..." he was unable to continue. The grief had made him disorientated and nauseous. He could already feel the bile rise from his stomach into his throat. Not wanting to vomit, he took a deep breath.

"What about the rest of the Iron Imperial vessels?" he asked the man who had broken the news to him.

"All gone. Destroyed beyond repair by our attackers," the man replied sadly.

"Every single one of them?" he asked.

"Every single one of them were confirmed to be destroyed," the man affirmed. "All Iron Imperial ships are now little pieces of debris beyond repair, floating in the vast vacuum of space."

With the complete loss of its navy, the Iron Empire had truly fallen.

"And what of the Emperor and Crown Princess?"

"Missing, presumed dead."

"Kark! Kark! Kark!" the man yelled as he slammed his fist against a brick wall until it began to bleed.

"Keep me updated," he ordered the messenger even though he lacked the rank to do so and opened an encrypted comms channel to the rest of the Iron Imperials stationed on the planet. "The Emperor and Crown Princess are missing, presume dead. Let us protect this planet in their memory!" he yelled over the channel seething with rage.

Then, as if the aggressors who had brought upon death and destruction to the Iron Empire were purposely trying the fuel this man's fire, the shipyard where the Iron Imperial ships were built and maintained exploded in a sea of flames completely destroying anything inside of it. Everything was completely gone. It seemed the goal of their aggressors were not only the defeat of the Iron Empire, but to also completely erase the nation's existence.

"Capture and subdue any suspicious figures, if they resist, shoot," he ordered over the commlink as he watched the shipyard be reduced to nothing. Within nothing more to lose, he was prepared to fight until he could no more. Someone had taken away everything from him and he planned to extract beyond what was reasonable compensation.

[member="Bareesh Kajidic"] - [member="Kiran Arlos"] - [member="Tristram Senan"] - [member="Smallgrin Ben"] - [member="Nadir"] - [member="Zeradias Mant"] - [member="Helix Syndicate"] - [member="Coratanni Cartel"] - [member="Jethro Rekali"] - [member="Gorba the Hutt"]​

 

[Jethro Rekali]

THE BLOOD TRAIL
DEEP SPACE
NEAR IRON EMPIRE SPACE

The Vahla hair rock cut off abruptly, and Clan Chief Alec Rekali's voice filled the subspace airwaves.

"Pack it in, folks," she said. "We've got verified reports that the big heist ain't going down as planned. The whole Iron Empire navy got called away to Rhigar and got its shebs handed to it. I'm sending around some coordinates for a spot near there. Once the fire dies, we'll see what there is to see. Even if the whole fleet's shrapnel, that's a lotta durasteel to catch and melt down. But that's a task for another day, seems to me. Who knows. Maybe these fethwits died well enough that we'll want to leave their graveyard in peace."

That, Jethro knew, was a big gorram maybe. Bills to pay, mouths to feed, fleets to fuel up: Clan Rekali's sheer size could be a liability. Consume or die, at the end of the day. As the Clan's ships began to vanish into uncharted space, he looped his B-wing around to join the 'Like Hell.'

The huge neon sign - 'Quick Cash! Sell Ships Here!' - collapsed back into its projector and vanished with a sad little blip.

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

Then, as if the aggressors who had brought upon death and destruction to the Iron Empire were purposely trying the fuel this man's fire, the shipyard where the Iron Imperial ships were built and maintained exploded in a sea of flames completely destroying anything inside of it. Everything was completely gone. It seemed the goal of their aggressors were not only the defeat of the Iron Empire, but to also completely erase the nation's existence.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SywExJR4lrI​

​

COPERO SHIPYARDS
SECTION C-12

"So, did you see?" Grigori said, walking off the loading ramp after Derrenger. The Sakiyan was walking strangely, his legs too far apart. Stupid belt. "All of the Iron ships. They were not being here the whole time! Someone gave us bad data."

Derrenger huffed. "That doesn't change our job."

"Yes, but imagine how angry other bosses will be! Now they are actually having to pay those ships filled with the fodder mercenaries."

"Somehow I think they'll be okay."

They exited through the doors of their hangar, finding a colossal Herglic waiting for them. Derrenger had never met Mobius D'ik before, but soon wished he hadn't. The cetacean clapped him on the shoulder in what was meant to be a friendly display. But this only annoyed the Trandoshan. Derrenger did not enjoy being touched, but for his own sake his only response was to growl disdainfully. He didn't budge so easily, though maybe he should have.

Grigori smiled, apparently not considering what logic had spared him a similarly aggressive greeting. "You will be excusing my friend, Mr. D'ik. He is not good with touching while on job. Or off, for that matter."

Derrenger was still scowling when Keeta showed up. Grigori stared in wonder at the Gank. Golden cyborg killer! With a skull face! It was as if he did not know this was meant to be subtle. What an impressive warrior he must have been to be both made of gold and have a skull for a face. The cybernetics must have helped as well. Grigori supposed it did not matter, any concept of subtlety had been - to use a metaphor Grigori picked up while in an orbital prison - shanked and spaced with the whale here.

"You are Keeta! Good!" Grigori replayed D'ik's welcome gesture with the Gank, albeit with less threat of bruising. But probably a similar reception. "I will now be filling you in on the plan. First, we must..."

Grigori paused in his speech, pointed smile turning into a concerned frown. None of them would feel it yet, but Grigori did. The heightened senses of the Sakiyans were the stuff of legends. It was subtle at first, the soft tremors, the barely audible booms getting closer and closer, progressively louder as they traveled the length of the shipyards. Within moments, the rest of them could hear it as well. Derrenger's eyes narrowed and a hand reached for the collapsed bowcaster on his back.

"What was-"

An ear splitting explosion ripped through the section of the shipyard the team was located in, flooring the lot of them (except, perhaps, Mobius) and plunging the shipyards into darkness. Paneling came loose, pipes got dislodged, sparking wires sprang from various areas in a ruined mess. Minor secondary explosions could already be felt, and the screams of unfortunate travelers and shipyard personnel joined the cacophony not long after. Emergency power came on as Grigori rose to his feet, blaring evacuation instructions over what remained of the intercom system. Sirens and red emergency lights.

It reminded Grigori of a rave he went to once. No, that wasn't a rave. It was a riot. Prison riot. Funny he kept mixing those two up. Derrenger pulled himself into a crouching position, his bowcaster now primed and ready to fire. What is he going to be doing? Shoot the explosion? Grigori thought.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Somebody is blowing up these shipyards," Grigori observed, super Sakiyan senses allowing him that much. Fortunately, these were rather large shipyards. In fact, it was the largest shipyard in the Chiss Ascendancy. They could not be instantaneously destroyed (especially not with this many named characters on it), though that sequence of bombs came perilously close. Whatever anonymous aggressor the Iron Empire was facing must have been a truly vast, powerful, and insurmountable opponent to be able to circumvent every single Iron Imperial security procedure to plant this many bombs on their most strategically important shipyards. It couldn't have even been the Chiss - even they weren't desperate enough to throw off the yoke of the Iron Men to assault their own infrastructure.

Well, the matter of who was best left unresolved, because even Grigori doubted anyone had an intelligent answer. There was a clattering as he undid the belt with the holoshroud projector and let it fall to the floor.

"What are you doing?" Derrenger hissed.

"I am thinking we are no longer needing that. Now is time to be moving," Grigori retrieved goggles from a back pocket and snapped them over his eyes.

"Why did you bring-" Derrenger elected to just snarl in disgust instead of finishing the question. "Fine. Whatever."

Grigori traced a circle in the air with his finger, moving briskly down the hallway, past the shuffling wounded and dazed, ambivalent to the wreckage and flames. "Come along, friends!"

[member="Bareesh Kajidic"] | [member="Coratanni Cartel"] | [member="Nadir"] | [member="Aster Rose Baelor"]​

 

[Coratanni Cartel]

Cloaked Shuttle Besh - Copero Space
Matthis Thawne
[member="Helix Syndicate"] | [member="Nadir"] | [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] | [member="Aster Rose Baelor"]

For a moment Matthias didn’t say anything, he only looked at the others within the small shuttle and observed them. They really were the oddest collection of criminals and soldiers that he’d ever actually seen in his entire life, and although he wouldn’t have guessed they’d ever come together under the same banner...here they were.

Slowly the Thawne shook his head, a shrug rolling over his shoulder. Crazy.”

He thought to himself with a smile.

A yawn pulled at his lips and he slowly looked around the room again, just barely catching an audible chirp from the command console in front of the pilot. He frowned for a moment, slipping the blaster in his hand back into his holster before he slowly unstrapped himself from his seat and ambled his way into the cockpit. The journey was a quick one, though he had to squeeze past one of the giant whale people in order to actually get there.

Almost as soon as he entered the cockpit the Pilot began to talk to him, berrating him with a slew of worried words that made Matt cock his eyebrow. He ran a hand over his smooth scalp, shaking his head and letting out a loud sigh. ”Alright alright.”

He told the man with a wave of his hand, turning back to poke his head back out into the cargo hold of the shuttle.

”Mission change.” He told them. ”We’re comin in hot...someone’s blowing up the station. Plan is to take one of the Hangars, kill everyone there, then extract our people on the Yard.”

He shrugged. ”Should be fun. Landing in two.”

Just as he said it the Shuttle rushed forward, heading directly towards one of the Driveyards landing bays.

 

[Azimuth Industries]

Space near Cotero

"Hey boss, looks like there ain't no defenses to blow up no more," said an astute Rodian.

Narbo scratched his balding head. "Eh, tagwa. Looks like."

"What d'ya want us to do, boss? We still got those fireships. Could smashem into the planet."

A three-fingered hand cuffed the Rodian in the ear. "Stoopa sleemo. No. Let's go back to Kwenn station, nah? Maybe Gorba wants fireships for something else."

And so the little flotilla of junky freighters and fireships turned around and hyper jumped away, back to the other side of the galaxy.

 

[Joy]

RHIGAR​

​

Smallgrin surveyed the wreckage through the forward viewport: a pulverized mess of scrap floating listlessly through space. He crossed his arms. Hmph.

"Not even a salvageable ship," grumbled the quartermaster, Silverback.

"Lotta dead ships to make this much junk," said a deck hand whose name Ben couldn't recall. New hand from Kwenn.

"Who could've done this?" asked another of the crew.

Ben Brijj frowned and looked at the sensors. Weren't no one else around. Attackers'd gone. No survivors either, looked like, just the scrap of once great warships. Hmph. Slowly, the frown turned to a smile and the smile to a grin.

"We did," he said, turning to the rest of the crew.

"What?" asked Silverback, confusion written on his face.

"Start a broadcast and ye'll see. Widebeam. I want the galaxy to know. Hey, give me that, lad." Ben took one, two, three bandoliers of grenades and ammo from a crew member and slung them over his shoulders. "Ought to look the part, yah see."

A moment later, the broadcast began, along with images of the massive debris field.

"Good folks of the galaxy, lend me yer ears for a wee. Ya don't know my name, but ye will after tahday. The Iron Empire did me and mine wrong. Thought they had the power tah cross me. Well yer lookin' at their remains. That's all that's left of them after the Corsairs of Cato clobbered 'em at Rhigar."

He got real close to the transmitter lens and smiled wide enough to show the gaps in his toothy grin.

"So iffin ya hear any askin' what all happened to the Iron Fleet, ya tell 'em they tried to trade broadsides with Smallgrin Ben and the Brethren crew."

The broadcast ended.

He didn't feel the need to include the fact that he'd allegedly destroyed the entire Iron Empire navy with a Gallofree freighter about 66m long. Some facts were better left unknown.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

The Crown Court Casino
Point Nadir, Outer Rim

Ifan ben-Mezd scowled as updates in near real time beamed their way back to his executive suite, mission reports from the Copero operation coming in far earlier than he had expected. Exchange ships, and they were Exchange, even if their transponder registration had been laundered through a series of dummy shells, had been among the last to arrive in system. Hakar, a veteran specialist within their organization and the Prince's right hand, had been leading the mission. They had arrived just in time to witness the whole scale destruction of the Iron Imperial shipyards.

At first Ifan had been furious, assuming it had been the doing of overzealous Hutts or Coratanni, until it slowly became clear that this was mere happenstance. It had not been related to their clandestine misbehavior at all, but rather to do with strange and vague intelligence reports he had been receiving from his operatives about Iron Imperial military operations near the Rhigar system. It was impossible to say what was going on for certain within the regime itself, in such depths of Unknown Regions even underworld networks could only take you so far.

Now his rage had simmered into mere frustration, as it became evident his associates were calling off their part in this venture. On a truly rational level, he supposed he could not blame them, their prize was not only missing, but anything of apparent worth had been obliterated before their very eyes. But the Prince had never been interested in something so mundane as ships, he could get ships anywhere. Angrily pulling up his contact information for [member="Gorba the Hutt"], Ifan opened a transmission to the head of Bareesh Kajidic over their encrypted holotransmitter line.

"Mighty Gorba, lord and prince of all Hutts! I bid you greetings," a holographic image of the Prince, his face and voice warped by proprietary tech intended to maintain his privacy. Although Gorba could not see it, when Ifan rose from his bow his eyes narrowed in an instant, "I have just heard the most disappointing news concerning our joint venture in...'iron mining'. It is a shame, the manpower required, the resources invested. And all, as it seems, for naught. I simply wished to make you aware on behalf of my employers, that we are most disappointed."

In truth, the Underlord and his Regulators knew nothing about this, and it was Ifan who was now left vulnerable as a result of their failure. But Gorba did not know that, and did not need to know that. Ships had never interested him. It had been all that information, just waiting for them both on the shipyards and Copero below. He had been relying on the others to stage a sufficiently enormous distraction to allow him unfettered access to intelligence on the collapsing Iron Imperial markets, intelligence that could have made him another fortune. But now...with the rest of their Cabal having cut their losses, even a token planetary guard against his enforcers and a few tac teams alone would mean an unacceptable cost.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

The entire Iron Fleet destroyed. None of it salvageable. And now some two-bit pirate who could barely afford to run a freighter was taking credit for it all?

The Hutt was, to put it simply, very, very unhappy.

"Great Gorba you have a call," said Ni'gel.

"Mighty Gorba, lord and prince of all Hutts! I bid you greetings.I have just heard the most disappointing news concerning our joint venture in...'iron mining'. It is a shame, the manpower required, the resources invested. And all, as it seems, for naught. I simply wished to make you aware on behalf of my employers, that we are most disa-"

Click.

Gorba turned, finger still on the button, and stared at Ni'gel. Ni'gel stared at Gorba.

"Shall I..."

"Hmph."

"Of course, Great Gorba, I will inform him we are having technical difficulties."

[member="The Prince"]