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It is an uncertain time for the major powers of the galaxy. While the SECOND GREAT HYPERSPACE WAR rages on, and tensions mount between one-time allies in the Galactic Alliance and THE EMPIRE, the MANDALORIAN ENCLAVE finds itself in a tenuous position. For years, both the Enclave and Empire had fought and trained together in comradery and with mutual respect, joining their forces on theaters across the galaxy - from Krownest, Dromund Kaas, Roon, and the titanic confrontation between the powers of light against the darkness of the Brotherhood of the Maw on Tython..
Yet, both powers find their relationship strained due to a historic confrontation over ILUM. Enclave naval forces joined alongside the Galactic Alliance sector fleet, and opened fire on Imperial forces blockading the planet; while ground elements assaulted the Lord Regent himself - ERSKINE BARRAN. While civil unrest and the spread of ‘THE FIREFLASH VIRUS’ threatens to shake the Enclave to its very core, the TRIUMVIRATE and high level dignitaries have been invited to attend a diplomatic summit on TOR VALUM in the hopes of preventing further escalation...
OBJECTIVE I - HONOR BOUND "We make peace with our enemies - not our friends." - (Heads of State, Enclave/Moff Council Members)
A pall hangs over the heads of the senior members of the Mandalorian Council. The Fireflash Virus’ spread throughout the Enclave’s territory along with mounting civil unrest both threaten to plunge the realm into a state of chaos, even as Imperial dignitaries converge upon the capital world of Tor Valum. The resulting summit is crucial, as the outbreak of yet another war against another major power of the galaxy is a very real possibility.
Actions must be answered for, and allegiances will be questioned on both sides.
OBJECTIVE II - SHADOW WAR "Knowledge is power." - (ISB, SCAR, Si’kahya, Karjr)
While attentions are laser-focused on the summit convening between both great powers, a shadow game commences beyond prying eyes. ISB operatives & special forces are tasked with infiltrating key buildings in the city, including a construct serving as the headquarters for the legendary warriors of the Si’kahya. Their mission is two-fold - 1) Acquire actionable intelligence relating to the Enclave’s current military strength across key sectors, and 2) Gather whatever data can be found about the Enclave and the ‘Fireflash’ virus outbreak; specifically relating to where culture samples can be acquired for... use by the Empire.
While the mission parameters are concise, the mountain-city is heavily guarded, with battle-hardened warriors around every corner. Discretion is key, but results are expected. Failure will not be tolerated.
OBJECTIVE III - STANDOFF "I have a bad feeling about this..."
- (Navy/Fleeter Characters/Potential Warposters for Boarding :wink: )
As if to mirror the mounting tensions planetside, the same could be said for the naval escorts accompanying the Imperial delegation to the heart of the Mandalorian Enclave. While the fleet was kept to a reasonable number for diplomatic niceties, the fact remains that this is among the few times in which a major naval force has gathered in orbit over the jealously guarded capital world of the Enclave. The nerves of crewmen on both sides are balanced precariously on a knife’s edge, with one wrong action or command easily capable of sparking an accidental - but catastrophic confrontation
The Harkenfang hung in orbit with the rest of the Imperial delegation fleet, situated towards the left most flank of the formation. The Valiant class vessel was one of the quicker vessels in the fleet, and coupled with its tonnage and firepower, it had been charged with anchoring the flank. Should a combat engagement erupt, something Leandra considered a fifty fifty chance, the Harkenfang would use its wide range of fire and quick movement to counter any potential Enclave flanking maneuvers and perhaps launch a counter attack of their own.
These thoughts raced through her head as she stood on the bridge of the vessel, arms folded behind her back. Tactical observations and theories calmed Leandra, helped her deal with the nerves and tension she felt. She took her hazel eyes away from the viewport, the view dominated by the the world Tor Valum. To the right of the Harkenfang, Leandra could just make out the shapes of other Imperial vessels in the formation, with the larger capital ships located towards the center of the formation, and smaller vessels interspersed between them and the flanking ships. It was a dependable battle line, though thinner than Leandra would like, especially in enemy territory.
'Not the enemy yet...' The words of the fleet commander echoed in her mind as she took in her bridge crew around her, watching as they went about their duties. They moved with the determination and efficiency Leandra expected in every officer under her command, no matter their rank. Orders had been issued, and the time for questions had passed. Each man and woman wearing the Imperial uniform on this ship, though keeping it from their face, moved with a similar tension that Leandra felt. They had their orders, but none of them were happy about them. She straightened her own shoulders slightly, determined not to let her officers see anything but a calm, confident and steady Captain.
A small chime echoed across the bridge, and Leandra glanced at her sensor and radar officers. One of them, a young man fresh out of the academy, stood and turned to face Leandra. "Captain, the last of the ground delegation have departed for the surface." She nodded her head to the man, her eyes traveling to look back at the planet they had come for. The Harkenfang had not been deemed an appropriate vessel to carry the dignitaries to this meeting, and as such had only been made marginally aware of their departure from their carriers. Leandra had taken personal care to ensure she knew what was happening though, and her officers had been keeping track of the departure of the landing party.
A meeting face to face with one of the most dangerous warrior cultures in the galaxy on their capital planet...
Leandra was not one to question orders, but even she doubted the logic of this plan.
Aisling stood and observed out one of the frigate's transparisteel windows as The Redeemer and the rest of the Imperial fleet dropped back into realspace. The idea, as far as she knew, was to operate as an escort to the Imperial delegation. Their mission was diplomatic in nature, yet the tension in her was undeniable. She battled to not let it show. While everything might proceed in an orderly fashion, she was very aware of how easily things could get out of hand. One thing going wrong, be it here in space or planetside, and it all fired off. That feeling would stick with her for the entirety of this operation, she imagined.
"Ensign?" the question, sharply posed, had her immediately straighten. "Why are you not at your post?" The words themselves didn't matter, the tone alone communicated that she had been found wanting, and had her swell with embarrassment and a hint of shame even if her 'crime' was barely noteworthy. Such was the effect of Lieutenant Krell.
"I- uh" Aisling didn't get much further, as Krell got the reaction he wanted, and with it the opportunity to interrupt."At once." he said, as dismissive as could be. "Yes sir" what else could she say? She saluted, and headed down the hallway as the first call for everyone to get to their stations sounded over the ship's comms. Aisling could feel Krell's satisfied smirk follow her as she walked away.
The light support vessel held its position by the left flank of the Imperial formation. The ensign wouldn't normally have expected to find herself at the bridge, but on a vessel of this size she had hoped. Yet no such luck for Ensign Dvale, at least not yet. It was the chamber with staff dedicated to the point defence cannons for her.
Maybe she'd get lucky and their communications would be jammed, and she'd be a messenger to the bridge. Not that she'd complain. She was an officer, albeit of the lowest rank. Still, in this navy it meant something.
The chamber was never empty, but thanks to Krell she got there before most. Aisling saluted or blank-stared as appropriate as they entered. Time to see just how eventful this diplomatic endeavour would be.
Crazy crazy all around, first it was gunning down infected on Roon... Rooooooon.. A whole mess that was for sure, but now she was potentially having a gunfight with the Empire! Perhaps this was going to be a day to make her father and family proud, but for now, things only remained on thin ice. Venari waited along with other boarding crews, waiting for the go-ahead from Vemric Keldra .
While on standby, she checks over all her equipment once more.. Did she ever mention that she adored the damn gun? Wait she did? Righttttt... Moving on! What else was there? Her armored hand skims over the pistol, a fine little blaster for sure. Though of course her model 39 still held all her love.
"Looks like today we will see more action, how do you feel about that momma? This is another chance for me to honor our new family! Roon was a blast eh?"
The AI and her daughter often spoke to one another within their paired minds, to Venari it felt just as normal as normal talking.
"No, I don't like this. I worry for you always, perhaps the other organic beings will conclude this mess without the need for a fight. Try not to get your head too lost in battle my child, calm down and focus. If things do go south, we both will get through this, I am right here with you like mother always has been.
Recalling back to her time on Denon, she gets the idea pretty quick, letting out a sigh to calmmmmm downnnn, ahem... Zen or something like that right? Ya that sounds good, calm times.
"I understand, just a little excited at the chance to get into some honorable combat."
Tayl stared idly at her blackened hands, watching as her butterfly knife spun in circles and danced between each and every smooth, thin, dark finger that faded into her now pale lavender skin. She always did this while waiting. It was... Cathartic, in a way.
It used to make her smile too, showing for mother. One of the few things she could do to get the old Vizsla's attention back then.
Now though, there was something else to it. She didn't smile behind that empty visor as she lounged on top of the boarding pod, lazily kicking her foot in a slow rhythm as it hung off the edge.
Edge. Right, it took the edge of sometimes. Her Bio-inhibitor chip did most of that for her, regulating various chemicals so that she never lost her cool. Always calm, always collected, always so cold. But it couldn't hit the deep chit. Personal things.
Like, losing all of your skin for example? Even after all the bacta treatments over the month, even after getting new snythskin layered over most of her body, it still left that disgusting black gradient along her hands.
"I'm not saying you can't hate it. I'm not saying it isn't a bitter taste. But scars are runes carved in stone. A bold message to this cruel galaxy that proudly proclaims; "I Survived".
She was so confident when she spoke to Iris Arani, the young Jedi that would come to save her life on the very day she earned these scars. She was so sure that she'd be proud of any marks that found their own to her skin. But she didn't imagine she'd ever lose so much. So she just kept reminding herself of her own words. Every day. Every minute spent looking at herself in a mirror, or just her hands even now.
"This is bullshit..." She sighed, sparing Venari a lazy glance as she reclined over the pod "These are Imperials. Same ones I fought for my Beskar"The knife was dragged along her pauldron, made from the very beskar she liberated that day and still bearing the mark of Death Watch from her brief but ever impactful service with her Vode. It scratched her paint a little, not like it wasn't already scratched like hell anyway.
"I mean we sort of did shoot first I guess," She continued, idly gesturing with her knife "But you know what? I'm glad. We shouldn't be working with Aruetyc. Sith or not, they all want the same thing, really..."
Finally she turns to look at Venari, still idly swinging her leg in the air as if she were in a hammock on some beach. "I mean there's no way the Imps aren't up to something, right? Stalling, maybe. Or maybe they'll launch some kind of bombardment? Then we could just shoot 'em all. Now that would be fun!"
"So... why don't we? Why do we even trust them in our space? They could have met on a neutral planet and with only a few ships"
"You know what I think?" She gestures at Venari with the blade, not really waiting for a response "I think the enclave lost their sense when the quartermaster died. I mean, sure I don't know politics or whose actually in charge now, but I betcha the poor bastard has no idea what to do right now. Probably why the imps chose now of all times to pay us a visit"
"We ought to just- make a pre-emptive strike or something? I mean they were more than happy to shoot at mandalorians back when Mandalore fell, right up until they decided they needed us to fight the maw. Not mention our alliance with- well, the alliance. Not a very original name, huh? I mean I guess neither is 'dA eNcLaVe', but-"
"You never really talked this much before" Redsun chuckled, The rallymaster of Viper team, and her old mentor among the watch, was just checking over his own blades at a nearby table. "Save maybe... once or twice? Means you're worried. Trying to distract yourself... but from what?"
"Hmph!"Tayl just went back to playing with her knife, Still staring at her burnt fingers...
Kanollic never had the pleasure of meeting with Mandalorians face to face during his time as the Chief Inspector of the Imperial Inspectorate. Such duties required him to remain within the Borders of the Empire. Although he had made sure to study the history of the Enclave to better get a handle on what they were thinking overall. Violence came as a second nature to them he supposed in a warrior focused culture such as this. He was here to support the Imperial's Position on the recent enclave intervention over Ilum. Kanollic understood that they owed no loyalty to the empire and had dealings with the other factions within the galaxy.
He carried himself with dignity and self confidence as he moved through the gathering hall within the Capital City of Tor Valum. The Mandalorian Council was supposed to be here to represent the Enclave's side of the story while the Moff Council was here to get answers from them due to open hostilities over Ilum. His new white uniform could be seen along with the 'COMMISSIONER' rank insignia upon his chest. Although he doubted that the Mandalorians would attempt to assault the delegation he had seen to it that a handful of CompForce accompany him to the meeting for his personal protection. He would take notes during the discussion to have them for later.
The conference was about to begin soon as his stuff was soon set on the table and his seat chosen.
Objective: III - Standoff
Location: In Orbit - Tor Valum
Tags:
THE EMPIRE:Leandra Brax
| Aisling Dvale
| Open (Any Imperial dignitaries may accompany Korvan on his shuttle)
THE ENCLAVE:Open
Tor Valum - the heart of the Mandalorian Enclave. The Imperial Fleet would emerge from lightspeed - roughly a dozen ships strong forming the diplomatic fleet. It arrayed itself in a typical diamond formation, with all of the escort ships flanking the Ave Imperator in the center, which carried a delegation of some of the Empire’s most prestigious members of the elite. Among them, was a man whose meteoric rise within the Imperial Hierarchy had earned him just as many allies as it did enemies; a fact that was highlighted by the presence of dark armor-clad troopers marching in step behind him through the corridors of his ship.
He was en route to the shuttle that would convey him to the planet’s surface. DECEASED Erskine Barran
had accompanied him aboard his flagship; an honor that was equally stressful as it was humbling. The galaxy at large would never know just how close to death the Grand Moff was just a few days ago, when the two men met for the first time in years within Fortress Imperator. As many had demanded in hushed (and not so hushed) tones behind closed (and not so closed) doors, Korvan was made to answer for the events that had transpired on Ilum.
The tension was palpable; thick enough to require a lightsaber to slash through it. While Erskine had built for himself the reputation of an inspirational leader of men, the stare he had affixed to the Grand Moff was as hard as stone - enough to cause his very blood to run cold. Ignacious Korvan was not a man to be cowed lightly, given he had gone toe to toe with Carlyle Rausegeber himself in a shadow war of political maneuvering for all within the Moff Council to witness in the not too distant past. But Erskine... Erskine was a different man altogether. The legendary figure had virtually absolute authority to do whatever he pleased - an Emperor in all but name. It was fortuitous that Korvan was armed with enough substantiated fact to save his life as he entered the fortress those days ago, and explained himself as best he could.
Whether Erskine suspected the truth of it already, or Korvan was the most convincing he had ever been before; the Lord Regent had baffled Ignacious with how quickly he accepted the truth of the matter. But there would not be a way out of the incident without blood being paid. While Korvan would not be held ultimately responsible for the lives lost on Ilum, the unfortunate souls responsible for the mechanical failure would be instead. Erskine dismissed the Grand Moff with orders that, contrary to what many may think, had hung heavy within his heart. He was to execute the head engineers responsible, and do so via a live feed with the Lord Regent himself.
Never before had Ignacious been so thankful of his upbringing within the cutthroat world of Sith Imperial politics, for he knew well that if he had denied Lord Barran’s request, it was likely to mean his own life instead. The Grand Moff knew well the weapon was prototype in nature, but he could not - and would not challenge the demanded toll. A blood debt had been incurred, and blood would repay it.
“N-no my lord! P-p-please! I- I have a family!!”
BANG
“WE CORRECTED THE MALFUNCTION! THE WEAPON WILL BE FULLY OPERATIONAL SO--”
BANG
...
The final engineer stared coldly at the Grand Moff, who held the smoldering pistol in his hand facing the ceiling while his boots impacted harshly against the durasteel paneling of their black-site prison. There was no pleading in his eyes unlike the other two; no scrambling for an excuse. He knew what this was, and it disgusted him. Korvan paused as he appraised the condemned man. He remembered... pursing his lips, as if admiring the bravery this engineer before him had marshalled, to be able to stare death in the face. He was about to say something when the engineer spat into his face, the resulting bead of saliva spattering dead center into his features. He leveled the pistol.
BANG
That was it. That was all of them. Blood spattered and interlaced with the saliva on his face, and speckled his snow-white tunic - as if a stain had washed upon him from the actions that had transpired. Their families would never know what had happened here, only that their husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons...
Were gone.
He remembered hearing Erskine’s voice over the holofeed after the deed was done, but he did not remember the words. All he remembered was that face.
Those eyes...
The last time he had killed a man with his own hands was over two decades ago, when he had staged a mutiny aboard the cruiser he was stationed aboard, during the Age of Defiance. He had done what he had to do to survive back then, and he had done so again now.
“Sir?” A heavily distorted voice had disrupted Korvan’s train of thought. His head shook slightly, as if awakening from a stupor. As if for the first time, Korvan had noticed the almost-inhuman form of Lt. Colonel Beirand craning his black-armored head downward, as if concerned over Korvan’s well being.
“...Yes?” Ignacious responded, his voice sounding as if he were far away from his own state of consciousness.
The Lt. Colonel paused before speaking again. “Are you ready to disembark?”
They had reached the shuttle bay, with Korvan apparently walking on autopilot the entire time. The Lambda-class shuttle sat there, its loading ramp open expectantly as it awaited his arrival. “Yes. Has Cherek squad already arrived to secure the landing pad?”
“They are en route but will arrive shortly. The pad should be secured before our arrival.”
“Good.” Korvan acknowledged, reverting to his normal self.
Without delay, the Grand Moff boarded the shuttle with 12 of his bodyguards, with the shuttle delaying to allow for more delegates to board before raising its ramp and taking off.
Objective: I - Honor Bound
Location: Diplomatic Landing Pad - Tor Valum
Tags:
THE EMPIRE:Kanollic II VethresOpen (Any Imperial dignitaries may accompany Korvan on his shuttle)
THE ENCLAVE:Open
The Lambda-class shuttle bearing the Grand Moff, (potentially other imperial dignitaries) and his security retinue touched down on the landing pad designated to them by Enclave airspace control. The twelve Death Mask troopers of Cherek squad formed a perimeter around the pad alongside the security forces of the Mandalorian Enclave, their visors scanning the surrounding area with rigid discipline.
The shuttle’s landing struts would touch down with a slight recoil, with a hiss preceding the lowering of the landing ramp. The man himself would emerge ahead of twelve additional bodyguards, and would pause at the foot of the ramp to take in the scenery. This would be the first time he would set foot on the Enclave’s sacred adoptive homeworld, and what a sight it was. Clean air filled his lungs, the refreshing chill of the mountain climate providing a sense of invigoration. The Empire had arrived to meet with the ruling council of a nation they had thought was friendly toward them.
Whether or not that would change, would remain to be seen. He straightened the tunic of his uniform, and proceeded onward to meet with those the Mandalorians had designated to receive him and his party.
A cloaked figured stood vigil as members of the Imperial Delegation touched down within Tor Valum's spaceport. The dark haired woman was statuesque as the vessels found their berth and began to unload their passengers. Even as troopers and other assorted protectors formed ranks and ensured the safety of their delegation the figure did not move. She stood silently in wait as they assembled themselves. The cloak of feathers fell about her shoulders as her hazel eyes regarded those present. No helm obscured her visage from view, which made identification rather easy for those interested.
The Speaker of the Mandokarla, Runi Kuryida, armed only with the wooden swords strapped to her back had come to escort them to the conference. It seemed reasonable, did it not? Perhaps the Imperial Officers would not appreciate it, but the Shaman was about as neutral of a presence as they could ask for. Runi taught all those within the Mandokarla that one's prejudices had no place in interacting with others. There was little point pretending bias could be erased entirely, but that did not mean it had to rule over every choice a person made.
Perhaps the Enclave and the Empire had a matter to discuss. An opportunity to understand one another in the hopes of avoiding a more violent outcome. Runi would support this endeavor. Not because the Mandokarla valued peace above all else, of course. They were not the Jedi. Nor were they Sith in desiring the Mandalorians engage in wholesale slaughter every chance they got. Today was an opportunity to discover if the Enclave and Empire had enough in common to remain allies -- or if the two factions would instead seek to prove their mettle in battle.
As Runi stood there without her helmet on, the Imperial delegation should feel relieved that the one welcoming them hadn't already decided on the latter. If they understood the gesture, or cared to.
She would afford them a graceful welcome -- but not a subservient one -- and offer to show them to the place where the discussions would be held. Should they have any questions about Kestri or Tor Valum, of course, she would indulge them; and gracefully dodge those that might seek to uncover any strategic or defensive weaknesses. Yes, she hated politics, but the 'politics' of war were not the same. Learning how to out maneuver an opponent was only sensible. Though Runi hoped their guest had not already made that decision before the parties were even in the same room.
"Welcome to Tor Valum," Runi prefaced a brief rundown or salutation of rank or positions. "I am Speaker Runi Kuryida of the Mandokarla. If all delegates are accounted for, I shall guide you to the location of the summit. The Mandokarla is honored to ensure your safe arrival to the proceedings." Not that the Speaker stood with a rentinue behind her. In fact, Runi stood with a mere pair of attendants that flanked her a few steps back. The rest of their number were prepared to flank the parade of dignitaries and their guards along the way to ensure the route was not compromised. Whether the Imperials truly understood or not, not everyone that was a member of the Mandokarla knew how to use the Force; though many of the few Mandalorians that knew such Art were part of their number.
A few Shaman or Pathfinders would linger near the Spaceport to ensure the security of the delegation's vessels. And should there be a sudden need for additional personnel to leave those ships they would have an appropriate escort to join the rest. Runi hoped the Imperials had not brought people there to sight-see in Tor Valum, however. Under the circumstances the security was planned to ensure point-to-point access and safety, which necessitated restricting the ability to free roam. It was expected they would understand the reasoning -- and enforced regardless of their understanding.
Running through the underground streets, a fully clad Mandalorian woman sped through the Residential District on a speeder. She had finished training in the Katarye Alleyway and was riding home. There, she would hopefully find her lover Eliz Krayt, and their animal companion Aubin. Gwyn would scratch Aubin's ear and invite him on the couch where she and Eliz would cuddle. There, they would tune into the public holotelevision feed of the negotiations taking place between the Enclave and Empire.
It would be a shame to lose our alliance. I love working for them.
As she flew the speeder, her equipment rattled on her back and hips. Her beskar'gam kept her at just the right temperature, even in the cold. She had rested a while after training, tinkering with the speeder as she ate some spicy stuffed peppers, before heading home. She smirked beneath her beskar'gam, testing the speeder's limits as she cut a sharp corner. She laughed as she flawlessly pulled it off, thinking, All I have to do is add weapons and some armor to this thing.
Yet, as she drove into the next street, she felt ripples in the Force. Warning her. She slowed down, confused. What could possibly be of danger here?? Still, she slid to a half in the middle of a lonesome street. This was a section of the residential districts yet to be inhabited, and the streets of already built houses were eerily empty. And yet, she sensed a lifeform.
She slid off the speeder, pulling her rifle off the side of the vehicle and holding it in her hands. She looked around, sensing that the figure was south east, in a tall apartment building. But they could not be meaning to attack, could they? Still, unnerved by the red flags the Force was waving in her face, she stepped away from the speeder and approached the door of the building. What could possibly be stalking through the safe streets of Tor Valum?
In recent years, the Mandalorian became less involved with his so-called people. He disliked their methods, no matter which shift followed the downfall of the last - in the barbaric marauders, there was an odd sense of misplaced altruism that made demands of honour and rules, a need to conform if ever become one of them. Thus Fett opted to simply not, in return. The wayward son of Mandalore fell into the pits of the criminal infested outer rim to become the best of them all, there was no blaster more infamous than his own. Even when the Sons of Mandalore arose beside the Imperial order in the wake of their homeworld's destruction, there was too much of a need to obey and abide. He detested that, yet not as much as the paltry excuse for them that the Enclave seemed to be.
He could respect crusaders, those that seized all for the sake of it. The Enclave filled the old and archaic shoes of the Protectors, Fett assumed of them, with their best intentions set out to serve those found beneath them. To relish in arts and culture, not the spoils of war. Perhaps it was envy that forced Fett to feel that way, envy for what his cold and blackened heart denied himself long ago at the cost of one squeeze of the trigger. Maybe. The memory of the promised credits did well to quell those intrusive thoughts.
It brought him here on the side of the Empire, after all.
In his armour, a scrambler struck out. Concealed by those of other Mandalorians with equipment to rival his own. From behind the door, the blue-bolted charric blaster, crafted by Ijaat Mereel, rang out. It's high yield bolts tore through the door itself and towards whomever lay on the other side.
Moff Bastion itched at his collar, he was always itching at his collar. It was a nervous tick one he was aware of which just made it worst. It was what was known in Sabaac circles as a tell. At best he was able to use it as a tactic against a skilled opponent lure them into a false bluff then take the pott. Problem was it was a tactic that only worked once and worked against him more than not. Not too mention the fact that he didn't think it would be wise to play that card at this time of the game.
It was in this capacity he was invited to this event. The last thing the Empire needed was a war with the Mandalorian Enclave while they were simultaneously holding off the Galactic Alliance, just on the foot heels of dealing with a Chiss Insurgency. Bastion had enough of a reputation for forestalling some rebellions before they happened and appeasing factions after they had.
Th thing was Bastion wasn't sure the Mandalorians were the most likely people at this event to trigger a spark that could turn a rebellion or even a civil war. When he was a boy day dreaming half the time he played as if he were one. The Mandalorians were stubborn but they valued honor, they were deadly enemies and fierce allies.
Diplomatic Events like this were one big card game, half the time you were playing against your own side. While doing that you needed to present a united front to outsiders. The problem being that Moff Bastion wasn't entirely sure he trusted those on his side. Bastion had heard some… disturbing allegations… rumours really. One of the benefits of pit falls depending on how you looked at being former ISB and a Moff in charge of quelling insurrections. Is paying attention to rumours that could forment into a rebellion. If the rumour he had heard gained ground whether it was true or not, it could create enough dissentions within the rank and file not to mention the Moff Council. Worst case scenario was an outright Civil War or Revolution. If that was the case. Moff Bastion had to play his hand carefully, if he backed the wrong player, he would be executed and no amount of begging would save his life.
"Grand Moff Korvan" Marcus acknowledged his superior with a formal bow "Thank you for the opportunity to represent the Empire."
Bastion followed the Grand Moff to the reception, with a stiff formal back and that damn itch at his collar which he forced himself not to scratch.
Vemric stood where he was most at home - in front of the viewport on the bridge. Things haven't exactly been completely resolved with the newly instated head of the Enclave, Romul Saxon
, on a political level, but they have at least gotten to a point where the Governor's ships hung over Kestri once more as part of the home fleet protecting the planet.
"Sir, they are arriving." Commander Miles reported from where he was hanging over the navigational officer's shoulder to see the panel. "Indeed." the Sephi said in his usual bored tone. If it was purely a diplomatic summit, why bring a battle fleet? "Sir, how would you wish to proceed?" Miles asked him. Vemric was silent for a heartbeat, weighing it all out. Something felt off. The two powers had been friends for a long time. Of course, the Mandalorians had thrown that out the window the moment they chose a side and forced his own hand. And here they were - two war machines playing at politics. "Where are we standing with our armament charges?" he asked without looking back. "Full power, Sir." "Keep it there, but stand down for now. Have all personnel onboard as well as across the fleet on high alert and await command for any action, personally. No one does anything without my command, is that clear?" the former Grand Admiral said, his tone changing to a more aloof and stern manner.
Miles and the rest of the bridge could feel the tension of the moment. To have both fleets look at one another while the fate of the entire situation gets decided planetside. "Yes, Sir." he said, the gravity of it all weighing in his voice, before he turned to the comms panel where Pol made room for him to take over.
<All Enclave personnel in orbit are to stand down but remain on high alert. Await further orders.>
Vemric finally turned to look at the newest additions on his bridge. "There is armour to be found in the armoury, if you wish to wear something more appropriate should things not go as the Mando'ade hope." he told both Zlova Rue
and Tiber, voice still aloof as he appraised them, an eyebrow twitching to rise as he looked at the Twi'lek especially.
His tall frame straightened up once more as he turned to the bridge at large where he looked at Ensign Loch. "Bring my armour and weapons." he told him before he returned to the viewport. "Yes, Sir." the young man said before jogging from the bridge. "You deem it necessary, Sir?" Miles asked the Sephi. "I highly doubt it would be necessary, but this isn't some mindless Mawite rabble that has come to our shores. These are highly trained, highly skilled men and women. I do hope the summit gets resolved peacefully - for everyone's sakes."
One minute they had been fighting together over Tython and the next, the report came across his desk that the Enclave had forgone its neutrality. It was such a shame.
Flat, golden eyes stared out into the emptiment of space. The lethan Twi'lek's eyelashes didn't move a hair at the sensation -- followed by the news -- of the Empire's arrival. Nor did she uncross her arms from beneath her ample cleavage. Why should she entertain the people on the bridge with her presence or enlighten them with her knowledge? As humorous as it would be to annoy their Captain to death, they were allies and she was not a comedian by trade. There was no training to be had here as they waited.
As they waited.
It galled Zlova to be where she was. No, she never renounced being Sith -- she was what she was, everyone either lived with that or challenged her to a duel -- but being shoved out of sight was tedious. More, it was boring. What was a blood-thirsty, scholarly warrior like her to do on a starship bridge? Keep their precious Governor-Captain alive? She was not honored for that 'privilege.'
Off to the side the humorless man engaged in some strategizing and contemplation about the disposition and intent of the arriving forces. That didn't garner Zlova's attention either. Oh, she loved Mandalorians. They were excited about battle as much as she... once they got going. They couldn't be mindless brutes, however, so a careful study of the situation followed by a decision was needed. As it should be. It was the only reason Zlova was still with the Enclave, after all. If they shot everyone that looked out of place like the Sith were prone to do, the Twi'lek would have wander off long ago.
Nevertheless, she already had her own counsel about current affairs.
Only when Vemric Keldra bothered to turn his attention in her direction did the gold of her eyes sparkle and turn toward the Captain. Something to engage with, finally. Paltry as it might be. Not unfamiliar ground for a Sith; after all, everyone started serving an overbearing Master that wanted you to shut up until they deign acknowledge you. It was tradition. Shame being a Lord, herself, held no bearing among the Mandalorians.
Zlova lifted and waved a single hand at the man's offer. "You and Talohn both would love to have me swaddled in armor. Shrugging off a hit isn't my Way, Captain. Not being hit in the first place or using the pain is. Besides, if things don't go the way you hope... wouldn't it be psychologically rattling if they suddenly found a red thing like me among the troops?" A smile spread slowly, but widely across her face.
Then the man had a little exchange with a subordinate, which while heard was promptly forgotten by Zlova as she stood there. Inconsequential, really. "Peace is a collection of precious moments between wars, large or small. Someone will eventually turn their eye even to this remote part of the Galaxy. All we can do is become strong enough to hold on to what is dear to us." Slaughtering innocent people had never brought satisfaction to Zlova throughout her career, but battle? She'd been trained her entire life on how to manipulate and kill people. She saw no reason to change; even the Cat accepted that.
Striding through a hallway fully clad in armor and gear Minerva grimace beneath the helm. The death of the Quartermaster had only recently happened. She never had the honor of meeting her but the fallen leader had been there for their people. She had guided them through this new dark age like that of a firm yet devoted mother. That is why Minerva grieved for that loss.
Her soul is now one with Manda, like all those who came before us such as…my father.
Squeezing her right hand into a furious fist Minerva fought to restrain herself for a few moments. She didn't know when but one day the Maw will pay a thousand times for the Quartermaster’s death. Passing by some Sepi sailors, talking among themselves the young Mandalorian exhale softly. Now is not the time to dwell on grief nor future vengeance but sacred duty to her vode. Just as she was moving onward Minerva heard voices from one of the rooms to the right side.
Her attention captured the former foundling turning around to see fellow warriors just talking and preparing themselves near a boarding pod. One of them, a Twi'lek vod lounged upon the pod, was going on in a frustrated rant about the crisis enfolding outside the ship until another spoke up. She listened attentively to it all before fully entering the room with one wave of the hand.
"Hey there vod, pardon the interruption but I overheard what ya just said and agree with most of it. Well you see I was there at Ilum when we chose to aid the GA to fulfill our pledge to them. The Imps may act like it's a betrayal but we never agreed to any official alliance with them and you're right this much force they brought for a diplomatic mission while we're still dealing with our issues is suspicious. Feels more like a threat or some kind of diversion instead."
Of course the Enclave allowing the Empire to bring this many warships to their adopted home does raise a lot of questions. Surely we're not that gullible are we? Or we are more desperate than I first believed? Keeping those thoughts to herself Minerva instead said.
"Oh I forgot to introduce myself, I'm Minerva Fhirdiad. What are your names, fellow warriors?”
The Reaper had never seen the appeal. There really was no difference aside from method of warfare. And for a SCAR Trooper, there really was no difference at all. They were the same.
Right down to the damn T-visors SCAR was wearing now.
Brief had been simple: Infiltrate and gain military intel as well as find out where a potential bioweapon was being kept and deal with whoever gets in your way. Right in the heart of Mando capital. For a change, there was no intricate measures or absolutely no room for error. Well, there was still little room for error, but it was better than some other shit SCAR had been through. This should be simple enough.
Dressed all in Mando armour and Mando weapons.
The Sons of Mandalore coming in for the clutch and COMPNOR had its uses. As attention was focused on the large fleet on the doorstep as well as the summit, SCAR split up.
Lily's boots crunched on the snow covered streets of the city, casually heading toward Warden Quarter where the intel was supposedly housed in the Citadel of the Kom'rk. Draw no attention but walk with determination, nonetheless. For all intents and purposes, she and the rest of SCAR were Mandalorian. It shouldn't be an issue.
Passing into the Quarter without hassle, it seemed the T-visors were more oblivious than the sharpshooter had thought. The Citadel wasn't far ahead. <Reaper to SCAR. Almost at destination. Call in status.> she called to the team over the secure comms, still looking as incognito as much as she could.
If one gets discovered, it's not the end of the world. They knew what had to be done if that happened.
The ever so impatient Twi'lek and the foundling attempting to not get too worked up.. Ah the duo. Safe to say that Tayl wasn't helping her friend calm down any, and the more that the AI thought about it... Everything did seem off, so the motherly AI speaks through her daughter's holoprojector.
"I do not trust this, why do they need battleships over our new home? For once I agree with . . . Tayl, it would be better if I still had my armor, I want to collect data on the ships . . . If we board I would suggest an optional directive, plug me into their code and I will copy a version of myself into the ship. All data will be given to Mother, and I always see everything. Taking out organisms and infiltrating code is what I was made for, all data will be given over to the enclave."
It was a bold plan, but clearly the AI had been sent into a panicked fritz of planning and preparation.
"That actually doesn't sound like a bad idea, Momma can see everything once she is placed in the code. This does mean there will be two of her though, and this process takes a moment due to the complexity of her code... Uhh what do you think Tayl?"
That would be then that the comms came on, informing everyone to keep on high alert but not to jump into action. Venari herself plugs both her and mother into the ship at a nearby computer, allowing Mother to send a safe message straight to the command center. The file would explain the highly advanced AI's idea, pitching it as a worthwhile task if the AI and her daughter were to be boarding a ship. On top of what the AI had said before, within the file it offers more tasty benefits to this. Such as knowing the troop count on the ship, their weapons, shield status, etc... The file was only addressed to Vemric Keldra for their eyes only.
Venari unplugs herself from the computer as Minerva Fhirdiad
spoke to both her and Tayl.
"As much as I want to relax, I agree. They could have met us at another planet, not my home.. A home that I only recently got. If we do deploy, you can guarantee me and my heavy repeater will show them a real threat."
Normally the more excited and wholesome individual, Venari was never one to speak like this. But being just a foundling herself... This was a home and family that both her and Mother never got to have, and she would defend it till her last round if need be.
"Sorry I am a little anxious right now, you can call me Venari Krayt."
Dressed in nothing but a simple suit and an overcoat draped over his shoulders, Braxton idly paced around the grand meeting chambers with a hint of admiration and curiosity in his gaze. ”You have to admit, the architecture is something to admire.” He commented as he glanced at one of the Mandalorians standing guard. The man remained unmoving. His blue armour and unpleasant disposition indicated who he was. He couldn’t pronounce the name to save his life, but their reputation was known. The Mandalorian Elites. Sik-something.
”Don’t worry, everything will go smooth as a Nubian yacht with this meeting.” He commented as he sipped at a mug of caf and continued to pace. The unmoving soldiers were unnerving in a way, but only due to the fact that he would be in the crossfire if either them or the Imperials decided to open fire on each other. But his concerns were quickly shut down at the thought of none other than his friend, Erskine Barran, coming to visit as well.
Given the contract Hex Incorporated had with the Empire, this meeting was going to be very interesting. After all, peace is good for business… war is good for business. All he had to worry about was not to lose the dozens of factories, mines, farmlands and other valuable assets dotting Imperial space.
After a while, the Imperial guests arrived and a charming smile adorned the Director’s face. ”Ah, good day!” He greeted as he tucked a hand into his pocket, watching them enter after Runi. ”I hope you all had a pleasant journey?” He asked them calmly as he moved over to his seat.
Imperials never did look like the kind for small talk. ”While we wait for the ol’ Warmaster to arrive, allow me to introduce myself. I am Braxton Holst, representative of the non-mandalorian people of the Enclave. I see you all have already met shaman Runi Kuryida. Though, I am curious, will the Lord-Regent be joining us with this meeting?” He spoke calmly with a crystal clear voice and a light smile as he stood by his seat.
”Ya know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a karkin’ force, you know that?” Shai quipped with a mixture of annoyance and amusement as she looked up from her sabacc deck at the doctor sitting across from her. It was an odd day in Tor Valum. With the Empire coming through to discuss what happened over Ilum, people were a little on edge… including her.
She had no illusions that her name would be coming up. She expected that Romul would stoop low enough to hand the “traitorous disgrace” over to the Empire after what she did to Erskine. Though, she hoped that he knew what he could expect if he decided to cross that line. The Wardog’s reputation might be sullied, but her exploits were still known very well… by all in the ranks of both parties meeting in Tor Valum.
She shook her head and took a long sip of her canteen, wiping the blood from her lips. Explaining to a doctor how the hell a Sangnir’s biology worked was interesting to say the least. ”I think I’m done for the night, big guy. I ain’t losin’ anymore creds to ya.” She quipped as she took her helmet and rose from her seat. ”Gotta admit, though. It’s been fun, Tod. Dunno when I’ll ever need a doctor again, but if I do, I’ll give ya a call.” She joked with a snicker as she clutched her helmet underneath her arm.
Stepping out of the cantina and into the empty street, Shai made her way back to her mom’s place with a smile on her lips. A pained smile. The kriffer managed to get a thousand credits out of her.
”Hey, what’s up.” She greeted two Mandalorians walking past as she continued with her walk, thinking nothing of them. Though something immediately struck her as odd. She paused as she thought about where she saw their style of armour before… it looked far too familiar.
”HOLD IT!” She barked as she turned to face them, her smile giving way to a harsh scowl. ”Don’t remember Sons of Mandalore gettin’ permission to be struttin’ around Tor Valum… don’t remember any imps gettin’ permission.” Her free hand gravitated down to rest on the grip of a pistol as she eyed the two unfamiliar figures. ”Enclave Karjr. You mind following me for a few questions?” She spoke as she slid her helmet on.
Patrolling through the many corridors of the Si'kahya headquarters Grendel was on guard duty but it didn't make it any less boring, he was just glad the corridors themselves where big enough for him. With the arrival of the Imps security had doubled in an effort to discourage any sort of foul play and Grendel assumed a show of force, hopefully with the application of cooler heads some sort of peace could be brokered but then again he wouldn't be here if not for the threat of spys.
Something felt off he couldn't tell what but he was certain something was wrong his gut said so and after over 300 years of combat in one form or another Grendel had learned to trust a gut feeling. There its was again this time he could smell it it was in no way the familiar scent of Mandalorians which smelled at least to him of beskar and blood, it was definitely a new smell a smell that didn't belong it smelled like a thief. Following the scent through the winding halls Grendel swore he caught glimpses of a figure darting around corners, rounding a corner Grendel saw the unknown figure dash into a room determined not to let the thief escape in one piece he stood outside the door letting his massive size block the only way out of the room.
TASK FORCE SCARIF
ENCLAVE SPACE
IN ORBIT ABOVE THE PLANET
->-<-
The Bridge of the UES Pathfinder
He sat with his head cradled in his hands, breathing the overly clinical oxygen into his tired lungs. He often thought there was a distinct smell of peppermint in the air that was treated and recycled through the ships of Roble design. Nobody seemed to agree but he had commanded them for decades now. He wished he had taken shares in the company at an earlier age; he'd be rich.
He chuckled. Verin was rich. He just didn't have the time to spend it. He had several vacation homes, personal ships, a large staff that kept him and his husband in a splendour that was enjoyed by few. He had held senior Naval and Governmental positions now in various galactic iterations for over 15 years now and so had accrued the rewards for his loyalty and capability. All it cost him was the chance of immediate suffocation in the vacuum of space or the immolation that an exploding starship would provide.
Well worth the risk, he had surmised.
Today was a slight change in the usual day-to-day. They were sticking out their metaphorical chests at an old adversary of his; The Empire. In recent years, they had enjoyed relative calm but things in the Galaxy never seemed to stay the same for too long. He had seen action against the Imperial Order as a Confederate commander and this way knew the formidable nature of their presence so embedded in Enclave territory. H
Merely a formality, he hoped.
The task force he commanded today was sizeable, containing various large Line ships. They had materialised out of hyperspace moments prior and he had not yet checked in with his friend and colleague Vemric Keldra.
Verin stood, calling out for the Task Force to begin their operational analysis.
"Grand Admiral Keldra, it's Oldo here."
He couldn't help but call his old comrade Admiral. There was no getting around it.
"Task Force Scarif is present and set out for the predetermined formation above the planet. We are charging all weapons and shields are ready. We will bide our time and wait for your word in the engagement."
He chuckled to himself once again.
"Strange to see Imperial ships bearing down on us once again. Reminds me of Dantooine."
<<MAYDAY. MAYDAY. THE SHIP IS COMPROMISED. AKELIA IS OUT OF ACTION.>> The concussion waves that rippled through the fuselage of the Frigate were percussive and oddly silent.
"I'm only ever a little way from home"
He blinked.
He took a sip of the inevitable mug of caf that sat next to his chair and he waited, wasting as the signal relay of the tactically display began to take on various colours and shapes as scanning began to relay the makeup of allied and...other...forces.
