Public Awake

[T-229]

Outer Rim - Unknown Ice World
ISD Basilisk - Recently Uncovered Ruin

It was cold.

It hadn't been cold in a long, long time.

Hoth? Csilla? He didn't remember the last time he felt cold. The armor usually did a good enough job, even during the cold nights. The Basilisk was usually pretty good about giving them the right stuff when they were sent out, so why was it so damn cold? The Troopers head turned from left to right as he began to stir, pulling a hand up to wipe away some of the frost from his face. Lips curling to a scowl as he forced his eyes to peel open.

Skin cracking and breaking as he managed to tear open the frozen lids, his gaze quickly cast into complete darkness. The light on the ship had long ago gone out, even emergency power running dry. It had been the final backup going that had awoken him.

They must have crashed.

Pieces fell into place almost instantly. The explanation of what had happened to him, the cold. His eyes swept over the darkness, hand coming up to press against the glass of the stasis tube. Gently his fingers probed, turning into a fist as he slammed hard against a small crack that had already formed. Another whack came quickly after the first, then another before the tube above shattered into a thousand pieces. T-229 blocked his own face, letting the glass scatter before he grabbed the plasteel edge and pulled himself free. Muscles aching, his very bones seemed to creak as he stepped into the stasis chamber.

With no light it was difficult to see, but all around him he could hear the echoes of movement, glass breaking, plasteel bending, the others were waking up. Though, T-229 knew that it wouldn't be all of them. A small frown touched the troopers face, a large breath drawing into his lungs. The cold air shocked through his system, drawing into his lungs until it seemed to choke him. He held it there. Feeling the pressure in his chest.

The Life.

"Armory!" He called out to the others. He knew they would as dazed as he was. Knew that they would have a thousand questions, but none of that mattered right now. They needed to know what was going on, but before that they could find out, they needed to make sure they could survive. Their armor would help, weapons would too. After they geared up they could hit the bridge and find out where they were.

Up above somewhere the officers would be pulling themselves together. Though, depending on how the Basilisk crashed, there was a very real possibility there were no more Officers left. Swallowing that grim thought and the responsibility that came with it, T-229 began to move towards the first bulkhead door. Cargo bay would have generator backups, and even after a crash there should be some fuel reserves. The Empire had meant for the Basilisk to survive on it's own, and survive they would. He would make sure of it. "Armor up and arm up!"

He called again to the men, encouraging them as he began to hear more thuds echo out throughout the stasis chamber. Troopers hitting the bulkhead door, some beginning to follow his orders, others still stretching before they moved. Not all of them would have made it, but it didn't matter how many. They'd make it through.

 

[Meliant]

Outer Rim - Unknown Ice World
ISD Basilisk - Bridge

Attn: T-229

Meliant strolled listlessly around the bridge. He would occasionally tip over a skeleton or drop down into one of the crew pits, just to poke around. Bored. Boring. The Death Troopers he'd brought with him were doing the real grunt work. One of them was hunched over a console, helmet removed, lips thinned in deep thought as she typed away. The rest were keeping watch in a far more disciplined manner than the Dark Side Elite.​

​

Well. Getting the emergency power back on had been a terrible ordeal. Meliant felt entitled to a little ambulatory.​

​

"They're thawed, sir," she announced. "Clones are waking up now."​

​

Meliant removed a little grey kepi from one of the corpses in the technician pit and spun it around on his finger. "Excellent work, Franceline."​

​

"My name isn't Franceline."​

​

"Oh? Then who am I thinking of...?" He made a clucking sound. "Heheh... No one important. Get their attention on the intercom."​

​

A few button taps later, not-Franceline declared, "Nothing, sir. Not enough power or it's fried."​

​

"What a shame."​

​

Meliant leaped out from the pit, landing nimbly not too far from the station the death trooper was managing.​

​

"If they're worth all this trouble, they'll make their way up anyway." He ambled over and deposited the ancient kepi he'd stolen right next to her helmet. "Start opening doors. Herd them here."​

---​

The clones didn't have to hammer at the bulkhead for much longer. Slowly, the aged durasteel rumbled and scraped open just enough for them to pass through in single file. Emergency lights flickered intermittently down the corridor, beckoning them in a particular direction.​

 

[Hubert Starhopper]

Objective: Ascertain What Piece of The Sky Fell...



Tags: T-229 Meliant

Gear: Tool-Kit, Custom-Built Blaster Pistol, The Star-Scraper



-----------


Hubert is sitting in the cockpit of the Star-Scraper, an old salvaging ship abandoned long ago that he himself pieced back together with stolen parts from junkyards and sand-crawlers. Rusted, rattling, and requiring more maintenance than he can provide with his limited resources, it still holds strong. He takes a drag from the cigarette hanging from his mouth, his tired and baggy eyes fixated on the planet before him as he remains stationary in the void of space. An ice-planet... A planet which those whom grew up in a desert have grown to detest. But he needs the salvage. Fuel, spare parts, any food that may have kept preserved within the wrecks that rest below. It's either risk freezing to death here, or risk starving to death when he runs out of fuel and food with no allies to call upon. With another drag, and an exhaling of the smoke through his nostrils, he grips the controls to his ship, and pitches the pile of junk forward to the planets atmosphere.

Upon entry, the sudden shift in temperature sends a crack from left to right across the glass of his cockpit. It begins to web out until finally the structural integrity gives, and the glass explodes, sending shards into Hubert's face. Upon instinct, he removes one hand from the controls to hold his new cuts, and in an event of instability due to the ship's pressure dropping, he is unable to hold it steady with only one hand at the wheel. The Star-Scraper begins in a corkscrew descent, and even now with both hands reuniting to save himself, it isn't pulling out of it.

Alarms are blaring, inner-plating begins to strip off of the walls around him, his ship quite literally coming apart the same way it was put back together. Painstakingly, and piece by piece. He looks through what used to be his protective shield of glass, staring out across the icy depths below. And as the ship makes another full rotation in its downward spiral, Hubert's eyes widen and his panic rises. Suddenly, he hopes that the crash is fatal...

An Imperial ship, unmistakably- even in the brief moment he had to witness it and its vast expanse he could tell. He's been running from them long enough now that he can practically smell an Imperial approaching. Wanted for grand theft, arson, murder, smuggling, and escaping slavery, (Among other, less-important things...) his hopes of finding a warm fire and good conversation are next to nil... And from the look of things, he isn't going to be landing too far away from their crash site.

"Some kinda' sick fuckin' joke..." He says to himself, laughing more out of nervousness and anxiety rather than amusement. His only hopes of making it out of this as a free man, are if those Imps have better things to do than sift through criminal records, but given their knack for filing information, if they haul him in, they will likely look into who he is anyways for a report, or whatever it is they do officially...

Another full rotation, and the ground replaces every thought he could possibly muster. The sound of metal smacking the earth echoes like an explosion, and the ship takes less time to lose its bits-and-bobs. First to go is the landing gear, ripped completely off of the undercarriage of the ship, and as the body makes contact with the ground, the framing for the thrusters gives, and they too separate, and disappear along the trail his first ship was eating into the top-layer of this planet, exploding into two separate balls of fire. And finally, the ship meets a rise in the ground, and its nose bites it, sending the hull into a somersault that could be measured in yards by the dozen, and it smacks into its point of rest upon its topside, keeping Hubert suspended upside down as he is rendered unconscious. Bleeding from the head from both blunt and laceration trauma, and exposed to the elements. And as the lights fade in his ship, it too begins to slip into a state of unconsciousness.

His rescue would now unfortunately fall into the hands of those whom he has spent years trying to avoid, all because of poor planning, or a lack thereof...

 

[T-229]

"Sir?" The Trooper stropped in his tracks as the lights came flickering on, half a dozen steps already through the bulkhead.

T-229's eyes flickered down, followed the lights, and frowned. Were the Officers already awake? No, protocol wasn't to direct. Everyone on the Basilisk knew exactly what to do in the event of an emergency like this.

Something was wrong.

"Armor up and arm up." T-229 repeated the order a second time, and in a second the other clones turned left and away from the Emergency Lights. None of them questioned the why, they trusted him impliclity. Quickly they made their way through the halls of the ship, moving away from the stasis chamber and towards the armory just two doors down.

T-229 counted thirty threetroopers with him, though he was sure more would be trailing behind soon. By the state of the ship it was clear they would be lucky if they had a full platoon still aboard. There was no telling how long they had been buried, though the Basilisk looked as though it had been beat to hell and a half. He didn't remember an attack, or a shortage. What the kriff happened? Last he remembered was Palpatine's speech before Endor and then...had the stasis chambers glitched?

While his thoughts twirled, grasping for some deep memory, the others went to work on the manual release for the armory door.

All of them together made short work of it, pulling open the bulkhead and entering the combination for the lever. Before long each of the thirty three troopers was dressed in his full armor, e-11's slung firm and pistol's stowed away. "Grab whatever else we can."

There was no question from the others, but one of the Troopers stared in silent question as he began to grab some of the Thermal Detonators.

"We're following those lights now." T-229 explained as he grabbed a DLT-19 from the wall.

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
MIN VAGABOND
[REDACTED]

"Breaking atmosphere", the Captain of the MIN Vagabond remarked as the remains of an old Imperial Star Destroyer quickly came into view. Despite Mahporeem's induction into the Imperial Confederation and all the benefits that came with it, the Imperial Remnant still found itself chronically short of material and supplies, no matter how much outside assistance it received. As such, scrapping and salvaging operations continued on almost a daily basis, with the Imperial Remnant spreading itself far and wide as it searched for recoverable material that it could use to furnish its industries and war machine.

Today, that search had taken Ronhar and the crew of the MIN Vagabond to a remote ice planet in the Outer Rim, where reports of a crashed Star Destroyer had been circulating for quite some time. The remoteness of the mission made it unlikely that Ronhar would encounter any sort of real resistance or opposition, which is why only a single salvage vessel and its small escort of 6 Y-Fender "Uglies" had been dispatched to investigate, since chances were that such a ship had been long reclaimed by the elements or didn't even exist at all. Yet, there it was, precariously crashed into the snow and ice, just waiting to be reclaimed and taken apart piece by piece.

The Vagabond began hovering just about the crashed ship, its massive trio of crane arms moving up and down as they began disassembling the ship, looking for anything useful to take back with them. Ronhar and a contingent of Frost Troopers took the modified U-Wing Gunship "Peace Keeper" down to the surface, where they would land and begin exploration of the ship itself.

Of course, being such a small group on such a massive vessel would mean that fully exploring every nook and cranny of the wreckage would undoubtedly take quite a bit of time. Not that Ronhar really expected to find anything of value, anyway. After all, they might as well have been in the middle of nowhere, and considering the age of the vessel and the harsh environmental conditions it had dealt with on a daily basis, Ronhar sincerely doubted that there would be anything left worth taking.

Then again, one could never be to sure, and in his opinion, not investigating the ship would be rather foolish. The Imperial Remnant was not in the position to pick and choose what salvage missions it chose to go on, and could use every little bit of Durasteel and scrap that it could get its hands on.

Ronhar and his men descended into the bowels of the ship itself, unsure of what they might find within...

TAGS:
T-229
Meliant
Hubert Starhopper

 

[Hubert Starhopper]

Objective: //SURVIVE//



Tags:// Ronhar Tane T-229 Meliant //

Gear://LOST//



-----------



Pieces of childhood flutter through Huberts mind like smoke in the wind. A lingering billow that feels like it leaves more questions than anything. pieces of his mother, whom he misses, and hopes well. Fragments of his father, whom he detests, and hopes his mother had the sense to leave... And his family's master, whom he despised, and wished dead from the day he knew how to think for himself. He slowly begins to replace everything within Huberts psyche, digging at his soul, tormenting Hubert in a wave of beatings and lashings that he is unable to run away from. The Toydarian fluttering over him laughing as he brought pain to every part of Huberts small existence. Suddenly, as his masters hand came down again. it didn't land a blow.

Hubert opens his eyes, unfolding from his previous recoil to see himself above the Toydarian, straddled to his chest with a fusion cutter in his hand. Blood and melted flesh drip from it, returning droplets of what had been melted off by Huberts hand. His breathing starts to pick up, his chest rising-falling-rising-falling faster and faster until he goes to let out a scream and-

He wakes up, gasping for air in a ship currently engulfing itself in flames. A hailing of light through the canopy of icy darkness. Hubert coughs, inhaling the smoke from his engine. Groaning to himself, blurry vision and an unclear mind, he begins to try and unfasten himself from the safety straps. Eventually, he gives up, and elects his knife to do the job. He reaches up to his ankle, slipping the knife from his boot and sawing into the cross-belts.

With a heavy slam, he hits the ceiling of his cockpit, barking out a cry of pain as he rolls to his back. Something is seriously wrong... He looks further into his ship, everything he has worked so hard for, pushed so far to achieve was currently burning away. His livelihood, his home... He tuns his head the other way, looking out of the broken glass towards the pitch black nothingness. And in a split-second decision, he reasons that he would rather freeze to death, than burn to death...

He pulls himself out of his ship, still delirious from the crash and the most-likely concussion that is going on up there in his head. twelve yards he makes it before he rolls onto his back again, trying to catch his breath. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it, having lost the previous one in the crash. Shortly after the first puff is exhaled, the rest of his ship explodes into a ball of fire, sending shards of metal scattering across the tundra.

 

[Meliant]

Outer Rim - Unknown Ice World
ISD Basilisk - [Bridge] -> [Inner Corridors]

Attn: T-229 Hubert Starhopper Ronhar Tane

Everyone paused what they were doing and looked out the bridge window, observing in bewildered silence a pitiful freighter whirled about through the air, only to crash and - after a short pause - explode unceremoniously. A few of the death troopers exchanged their ominously scrambled words, doubtlessly conferring with overwatch.​

​

No. Not one of theirs. No. Not worth investigating.​

​

Well, their tune changed when that salvage ship smashed through the cloud line and lurched into view. It was a hideous red thing. Meliant recognized it as a customized Arquitens. Old design, reliable design, mangled almost recognition. Certainly not his style, nor the style of any friend of the Empire.​

​

His companions started conferring incomprehensibly again. Meliant cut them off impatiently. "Where are my clones?"​

​

"Still a few decks down."​

​

"Forget it. I'll go to them. Go get the rest of what we need."​

​

No protests or commentary were offered. She put her helmet back on, and within the next few minutes, they went their separate ways: Meliant to his clone troopers, not-Franceline and company to the ship's data vaults.​

---​

​

T-229 and his escorts didn't have to go much further. Past one more pair of blast doors, there was a shadowy, armored figure waiting for them at the end of the hallway. Meliant was leaned mysteriously up against the wall, arms folded across his chest in a suitably mysterious manner. The white Imperial crest was visible on his shoulder, even in the dull, flickering emergency lights.​

​

"Well, well. Look how nicely you all cleaned up. Darling stormtroopers to the last." He didn't move. There were two lightsabers clipped to his belt, so perhaps he felt there was no need. "I can't tell you apart. Which one of you is in command?"​

 

[Hubert Starhopper]

Objective: //SURVIVE//



Tags: Ronhar Tane T-229 Meliant

Gear://LOST//



-----------



Hubert slips out of a state of unconciousness again, the world seemingly spinning around his bed of snow. Growing as a desert-dweller, Hubert had always heard stories about ice planets. Places where no matter how bright the sun burns, you rarely feel it's embrace and more water on the land than you could ever imagine...

Those stories flood his mind, bathing himself in the irony of a child's pipe-dream becoming the all-too-real nightmare. This is actually his first time seeing snow. Unarmed, unsheltered, no supplies to speak of as they currently melt in the burning pile of rust and dust.

He sits up, dazed so it takes him a moment. His eyes meet what used to be his ship and for the first moment since the crash, his head clears a bit. He knows he won't last out here. He has no idea when the sun will even rise on this planet, and the fire engulfing his ship will go out eventually Especially being pelted with snow and heavy winds. He rolls on his hip, standing from his knees. As he does, he yelps in pain, falling back to his face. It's almost as if that haze clouding his mind had vanished in an instant with the pain.

Hubert looks down his body, checking his legs until he finds the problem. A long, thin strip of metal is stabbed into the bottom of his foot, and was pushed further in during his attempt to stand. Hubert throws his head back, screaming a curse towards the sky in agony at his pending doom. It echoes across the tundra, and is taken by the wind, the weather not even allowing him the company of his own voice.

He stands slowly, collecting himself to his single good foot, and begins to hop himself towards the wrecked Star Destroyer. If he doesn't he will die. Years he spent running from them, fighting them when he had to... All just to have to turn around and ask for their help. At least he has a chance to escape this you can't run away when you die.

It feels like hours of hopping one-legged to his salvation. Losing balance again and again just to pick himself back up and keep going... By the time he makes it to the Star Destroyer, his body is numbed, and his skin sports a collection of icicles. He lurches against the first entrance he sees, calling weakly against it as he slams his hands into the metal with every ounce of strength he has left.


"P-please...! I need- I need help...!"

His voice is weak, and his body weaker. With one final backswing, resulting in a last pounding against the door, he leans against the metal and slides down it, his consciousness slipping again...

This is it. Frozen to death on a planet running from Imperials, because the Imperials were his only salvation. Any average schmuck knew the odds of an Imp helping someone of lower status altruistically were slim to none.

But when the only other option gives you the odds of "none", you do what you have to.

 

[T-229]

He and the others were frozen as the creature in front of them came to a confronting stop.

Inquisitor?

T-229 had met the like before. They did not fall into the normal folds of the Command Structure, but there were certain authorization codes which allowed them to take command. The Basilisk had been seconded only twice to the Inquisition, though neither times had been exactly present. 229 could still hear the screams at night sometimes, smell the scent of the pyres.

It had been necessary work, but dirty.

Had the Inquisition found them? Woken them up?

It seemed logical, even likely. There had been nothing wrong with the Basilisk, and if it crashed there would be value in finding them. The thought wasn't even a narcissistic one. Basilisk's reactor cores alone were worth the salvage. No one would have left them out here by choice, and a wise Inquisitor would have come after them anyway. If only to have a personal army at hand.

T-229 shifted slightly and stepped forward, hefting the heavy blaster rifle in his arms as the others parted behind him. All of them had faced Jedi before, but none of them had ever had to fight an Inquisitor. They were a different breed, and 229 didn't relish the thought of this one being a foe rather than friend. Broadcast to anyone who managed to get another armory.

He spoke into his helmet comms as he made his way forward, knowing only him and those on their lines would hear.

Pull everyone down deck and see if any transports are still operational. Hope for the best, but plan for the worst. The Flash training had empahsized that over and over again. In 229's experience, it was well worth keeping in mind.

"Inquisitor." T-229 guessed at the title. "Major T-229 of the Basilisk's 89th Battalion."

He introduced himself, his rifle loosely held as the others gathered half in cover behind him. "May I have your identifier, Sir?"

It was always best to be respectful when dealing with Force Users. That was a lesson T-229 had learned on Miriban. The Jedi there had been surprisingly cooperative when asked to do something politely, albeit only after the boys had cut off a few of his fingers.

Hubert Starhopper | Ronhar Tane | Meliant

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
MIN VAGABOND
[REDACTED]

Even deep within the crashed Star Destroyer, Ronhar could clearly hear the howl of the wind outside.

It was a rather eerie sight, Ronhar had to admit. The Star Destroyer had been abandoned for quite a long period of time, perhaps decades, perhaps even centuries. Skeletons littered the interior of the vessel, and the vessel itself creaked and groaned under the snowfall as Ronhar and company continued forward. Ronhar figured that he and his men must have been the first to visit this wreck since it had descended upon the planet so long ago.

At least, that was what he had thought.

For sprawled out in front of him was the body of Hubert Starhopper , still warm, or at least as warm as one could be in these conditions, and more importantly, still very much alive. Ronhar checked for a pulse, and upon finding one, ordered his men to begin rendering basic first aid. Still, the person they had found didn't stir or wake up, and trying to move him outside in such dangerous conditions would be a rather foolish idea. Ronhar decided to have two of his Frost Troopers stay with the man until the evacuation shuttle arrived. After all, if anyone knew what was going on here, it would probably be the man lying on the floor before them, and Ronhar certainly couldn't have him dying before he got some answers!

Carapace Knitters and Bacta Pouches distributed to the Frost Troopers staying behind, Ronhar and the five remaining soldiers still with him pressed onwards. Ronhar could hear the clanging of MIN Vagabond above him as it continued to tear into the hull of the Star Destroyer, removing large pieces of metal from the vessel as it continued to look for anything worth salvaging. At this rate, the Star Destroyer would be little more than a hole filled pile of metal, and if Ronhar wanted to avoid experiencing the worst of the storm, he'd have better hurry before the thin layer of metal shielding him from the snow and ice was completely removed.

After some time, Ronhar's squadron encountered a large blast door, and Ronhar could clearly hear voices coming from the other side of it. A cursory glance of the door's electronic control system revealed that the ship had just enough power to raise the blast door up, though Ronhar wasn't sure if he would be able to drop it if needed. He couldn't exactly make out what the voices were saying or how many of them were behind the door, and one he opened it, he would be committed to dealing with whatever it was on the other side.

Were they friends? Foe? Something else entirely?

Ronhar couldn't be sure. Best to play it safe.

He took an ABC Scrambler from off his vest and activated it. Nodding to one of the Frost Troopers next to him, the soldier activated the blast door and opened it up as Ronhar threw the device with all his might, the device exploding into a full spectrum of ultrasonics, biological irritants, and chemical agents. Ronhar and crew immediately rushed in, with Ronhar shouting as loud as he could:

"Hands where I can see them! Everyone on the floor! You are trespassing on Imperial Confederation property! Lay down your arms and surrender immediately!"

TAGS:
T-229
Meliant
Hubert Starhopper
​

Spoiler: OOC Note

If anything needs to be changed or modified, please do not hesitate to reach out to me!

 

[Meliant]

Outer Rim - Unknown Ice World
ISD Basilisk - Inner Corridors

Attn: T-229 Hubert Starhopper Ronhar Tane

"Major Tee-two-two-nine," Meliant repeated, then made a noise as if clicking his tongue. "No, I don't think I'll be saying that. You are Major Tito from this point forward."​

​

It was rather sad that over 800 years on, everyone still wore the same uniforms and followed basically the same naming conventions. No one had come up with anything better. Or maybe they had and it jus didn't catch on. But if it meant these clone troopers were more inclined to listen, then it worked just fine for Meliant.​

​

Tito's men started gathering in cover. Meliant's gaze drifted from the major to his men absently. Nervous, perhaps. Clone soldiers doing the only things they knew how.​

​

Meliant motionless. "No inquisitors here. I am a member of the Dark Side Elite, empowered to speak with the voice of our unyielding Emperor, Darth Solipsis."​

​

He paused dramatically for Tito's benefit. Yes, perhaps Solipsis was still missing after being abducted along with his entire throne room. Yes, these days Meliant was not especially predisposed towards the man - powerful though he was - as a result. But none of that warranted explaining. All that mattered was securing obeisance, and then...​

​

A blast door open and a suspicious tube rolled into the room.​

​

"Oh," said Meliant, "For fuck's sake."​

​

The scrambler exploded into a sensory nightmare: ultrasonics and billowing clouds of chemical biological irritants, enveloping the whole room. It was more than enough to put a legion of particularly sturdy noghri out of commission. Rather unfortunately for those who deployed it, Meliant had no biology to irritate. His mood, however...​

​

Meliant marched forward, heedless of the smog and sound, and went straight towards Ronhar and his men. A pair of crimson lightsabers sprang to life in his hands. Some of them had the presence of mind to shoot at the Dark Side Elite, but the shots that landed seemed to only score his armor and failed to slow him down.​

​

Nobody home.​

​

Wordlessly, Meliant began to hack the frost troopers to death. Brave men and women began to rapidly lose their lives as limbs and heads were cruelly separated from their bodies. Even in the tight confines of the star destroyer, Meliant moved with a wild but purposeful speed: leaping from walls, rapidly repositioning, turning the hallway into a blender.​

​

He knew it was Ronhar who demanded his surrender. Meliant was saving him for last.​

 

[Hubert Starhopper]

Objective: Survive



Tags: Meliant T-229 Ronhar Tane

Gear: Lost



-----------



Flickers of light dance around behind his eyelids as he slowly fades away into the cold. Pieces- no, shattered fragments of memories fluttering faster than he can even keep up with. His first memories, his parents, their owner, his firsts- all of it... until all of it clears. He finds himself standing in a void. Empty, pitch black, dry. A look of confusion finds its way across his face as he stands in the obsidian realm.

He hears the strike of a cane on skin, instinctively making him swirl around on his heels. As he turns, in the void he sees his mother, dropped to her knees in a recoil away from their masters cane, the Toydarian slaver flapping his disgusting wings above her, his arm wound back with the cane in hand.


"Hubie, no- stop!"

His mothers voice begs from behind him, and again on instinct, he pivots his attention to the past behind him. As he faces his memory, he grabs the Toydarian by his wings and separates them violently, breaking them and rendering them useless. He falls to the floor in agony, attempting to pick himself back up into the air like a wet bee as he writhes and wallows in his pain.

"That's not our son! We've never seen him before!"


He turns again, slipping and falling to his knees in the act of facing the next shard of memory's-past. His father is hugging his mother tightly as she sobs. Both of them look upon Hubert with a certain level of shock and disgust as Imperials begin to collect around them.

"I don't know who that is, but he's killed our master! We have no part of this!"

Hubert feels his heart sink in his chest. Committed to being an orphan by his parents of fifteen years... It's unspeakable. Words fail Hubert, hanging in the back of his throat as he gazes upon his parents, and the Troopers encroaching.

He looks down to the ground beneath him in defeat and rejection, tears welling up in his eyes as the rage boils his blood. Their slavers corpse lay beneath him, lifeless, orifices on his face melted shut in bubbly festers of bug flesh. And in Huberts hand, is a bloody fusion cutter, dripping with the same flesh and blood.

Two of the Troopers are now at either side of him. His vision begins to turn red, his breathing becomes manic and panicked. As one of the Troopers grab him by the shoulder, he snaps. Taking the blaster out of his Masters holster, he cries out a scream of rage, puts it to the Imps chin, and squeezes. As the shot rings out, Hubert springs back to consciousness, still screaming.


He looks around and sees the Frost Troopers who seem just as startled as he. For a moment, his instincts yet again take over and he snaps at the arm of the Trooper closest, gripping it as tightly as he could, trying to pry it from him in a state of crippling weakness. Shortly after however, this subsides as he reminds himself this is a good thing. At least as good as this thing is going to get...

"Cold..."

His voice is strained through chattering teeth, seeming almost as white as the snow around him in comparison to the film of engine grease that lackers his flesh.


"Sh-ship... c-rash-shed... M-my fo-ot hurt-s..."

He does what he can to ease the Frost Troopers' assessment of his condition, complying with requests and orders as they check him over. He can hear the wind tunneling through the open door, and he can almost feel the warmth already.

"I just n-need to p-patch up an-nd warm-m up. I can-n figure out-t pas-sage."

Despite the situation, no one could ever call Hubert a pessimist...

 

[T-229]

Imperial Confederation? Dark Side Elite? What in the feth was going on.

None of this made any sense, and that meant it was time to get out. The sounds of blaster fire began to echo out as the clink of dozens of smoke grenades began to echo. Every single one of his troopers knew what they were doing, and as soon as the crazy man had started hacking with his lightsaber they had known it was time to go.

A bigger question however hung over his head.

The man had identified himself as a foe, or at least as not-a-friend. There had been no identifier and T-229 had never heard of a Dark Side Elite, thus it was likely some inner world or outer rim organization. Most of the Basilisk's works had been in secret, this must be some new threat hunting them. None of that was in question however.

The question was who were those other troopers? Not from his Empire, that much was sure, and in truth it didn't matter right now. They were the ones being hacked down, and not his own men.

"We have what we need downstairs, Sir."

T-229's mind snapped back into the moment as the call echoed over his radio. Quickly the Major motioned to the others, and as they rattled off a few poignant blaster shots they fell back through the halls of the now decrepit Basilisk. As they did so T-229 put out a call on a Public frequency, at least he hoped it did.

There was no telling if the equipment matched as he attempted to broadcast to Ronhar Tane . "Trooper."

His words came with an odd authority for a man who'd been asleep for more than a thousand years.

"If you want support, give your designation." It was the only thing T-229 could think to do. Their creeds were sacred, but he could not leave any one who might be one of his troopers behind.

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
CRASHED STAR DESTROYER
[REDACTED]

If Ronhar had said it once, he must have said it a thousand times, but this was exactly the reason why he hated those blasted Sith!

Never mind the twin lightsabers cutting down everything in their path, leaving nothing but a trail of complete death and destruction in their wake. Never mind the fact that the Sith were able to use all sort of twisted force abilities on their opponents, abilities Ronhar wouldn't wish upon even his worst enemy. Never mind the intimidating black armor that seemingly deflected all forms of damage away from its wearer, preventing Ronhar from inflicting any lasting wounds on his enemy or stopping him from charging back at Ronhar.

No, all of that he had come to expect at this point. What really annoyed Ronhar now was the fact that he was apparently fighting some sort of ghost or similar apparition, as the ABC Scrambler had done absolutely nothing to stop the advance of the now enraged Sith. That, or the being that Ronhar was fighting was a droid or cyborg or some other mechanical monstrosity that Ronhar couldn't comprehend.

Whatever it was, it had cut down Ronhar's Frost Trooper escort in mere seconds, and Ronhar barely had enough time to unsheathe Burnblade and activate it before the Sith Lord was upon him. Had Ronhar been a normal man, he likely would have been dead himself, cut down by the frightening lightsaber skills of the unknown enemy before him. Luckily for Ronhar, he was no ordinary man, and his cybernetics and neural implants allowed him to stand toe to toe with the lightsaber user, matching him blow for blow. He was especially thankful that the sword he had with him, Burnblade, had been specifically designed to fight Jedi and Sith, as it was currently weathering the repeated lightsaber strikes and blows of his opponent.

Still, Ronhar knew he was in a bad situation. He had to eliminate his foe quickly or escape, and Ronhar flat out refused to leave this place until he got answers as to who the mysterious Stormtroopers that had been talking to the Sith up until a moment ago was. At the very least, they weren't actively trying to blast him, so they probably weren't his enemies. Probably.

Of course, it wouldn't matter if he got himself killed in the process of trying to figure out who they were. Ronhar decided to pull out all the stops: he switched the grip on his sword from two hands to one hand and pulled out his Sonic Pistol from its holster, sending a couple of sonic blasts hurtling toward his opponent at full power. As he tried to back away from the Sith and create some distance between him and his enemy, his comms flared to life as someone attempted to send a message. But who?

Of course! The Stormtroopers!

Ronhar allowed them to proceed with messaging his comms. It looked like Ronhar's love of antique electronics was paying off, since the frequency with which the Stormtrooper was attempting to contact him with was similar to what his own comms could accept. Ronhar took a deep breathe as the message began to play:

"Trooper, if you want support, give your designation."

"This is Captain Ronhar Tane, TK-3301, of the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant and Imperial Confederation!", Ronhar shouted as he ducked and dived underneath the lightsabers of his Sith opponent. "Don't worry about me, I'll hold off the Sith here! Some of my men are posted up by the eastern entrance, and are awaiting evacuation by shuttle. If you can reach them in the next couple minutes, we can get you off this galaxy forsaken planet. Now hurry, I'll catch up later!".

Ronhar wasn't sure if they would follow his directions or not, but he was in no position to escort them himself. Any wrong movement and he would be quite literally split in two by the lightsaber wielding maniac in front of him.

That is what lead Ronhar to make the second comms transmission he made, this one directly to the Captain of the MIN Vagabond:

"This is Captain Tane to control! I need you to stop whatever you're doing and to start dropping those cranes exactly on my location! Don't stop until you've punched all the way through to the lower decks! Make it snappy, over!"

With that, Ronhar turned his attention back to the matter at hand. Even with the power behind the Vagabonds crane systems, it would still take several minutes for them to get through the thick armor plating of the crashed Star Destroyer. And when you were fighting a Sith Lord, mere seconds could make the difference between life and death, to say nothing of minutes. Ronhar would have no choice but to hold on until then. At the very least, he still had yet to activate his HDNA-Mk I, though the disappointing performance behind the scrambler made Ronhar think it wouldn't be very effective.

Still, he at least had to try!

CORPORAL ERNIGH NORCHI, TK-9239
CRASHED STAR DESTROYER
[REDACTED]

"This is Corporal Norchi to command, requesting an ETA on the evacuation shuttle, over".

"Command to Norchi, ETA is currently unknown. The Peace Keeper is currently undergoing maintenance and refueling, and it could take a while. Hang tight and await further instructions, over".

Norchi sighed at the news. That wasn't really what he wanted to hear at this point, but unfortunately, their wasn't a thing he could do about it.

"Understood, command. Norchi out".

Norchi retreated further into the interior of the crashed Star Destroyer, where his partner Sergeant Karalex Bellhac was waiting with the unconscious body of Hubert Starhopper .

"Bad news?", Bellhac asked as Norchi began rubbing his hands together to stay warm. Even within the interior of the crashed ship, Norchi could feel the biting cold as if he were outside, and his Frost Trooper wasn't really do much to keep him warm. He couldn't even to begin to imagine how the man they had found had managed to survive for as long as he did. From what Norchi could tell, he didn't really look well equipped to handle the climate of this planet. He had to wonder what the hell he was doing here!

"Shuttle's been delayed, sir", Norchi responded as he squatted down, trying to conserve every bit of warmth that he could. "The ship's in the middle of refueling and maintenance, and they have no idea when it'll be ready", Norchi concluded bitterly.

"Well then, Corporal, you'd best get comfortable. Look's like we're going to be here for a while".

"Understood, sir", Norchi replied in annoyance as he glanced over the prone body of Hubert Starhopper once again. When he had joined the Imperial Army, he had imagined he'd be fighting for the future of the galaxy, going on glorious adventures in the name of the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant. To him, that vision didn't include babysitting a human popsicle, but again, he didn't really have a choice. He just went wherever they sent him.

"You really think it'll take that long, sir?", Norchi asked to Bellhac.

"Son, I've been doing this a long time. When they tell you it'll take a while, they mean it. Nothing you can do about it."

"I see", Norchi replied unconvinced. "Still, you'd think they might want to hurry up. Tauntaun over there-"

His thoughts were interrupted by the mysterious stranger's stirring. It looked like all the Bacta Pouches that they had applied to his body were finally paying off, warming him enough to bring him back into consciousness. And consciousness is exactly what the man came back into, quite dramatically, as he suddenly stood up and started screaming at the top of his lungs. Both Norchi and Bellhac reached for their blasters, though neither man took them out of their holster. The stranger staggered over toward Norchi and started grabbing his arm as tightly as he could.

"Hey!", Norchi shouted in alarm. "Get your hands off me!"

"Easy now, Corporal", Bellhac advised as he approached the pair. "He's in shock, and he probably doesn't even know what's happening right now. Stay calm, and give him a few moments".

Eventually, the man calmed down to the point that he could speak.

"Cold. Sh-ship...c-rash-shed...M-my fo-ot hurt-s. I just n-need to p-patch up an-nd warm-m up. I can-n figure out-t pas-sage."

"You're in no condition to go anywhere", Norchi snapped as he ordered the man to sit down. "Let me see that foot".

A quick medical examination revealed that it was very much broken, or at the very least heavily fractured.

"Damn", Norchi mumbled as he did his assessment. "It's not looking good, sarge", Norchi said as he turned to Bellhac. "He's probably gonna lose that foot at this rate".

"Well, maybe not", Bellhac responded as he approached Hubert. He pulled out a strange looking syringe, and began addressing him:

"This is a Carapace Knitter. It was developed by some insectoids to repair broken limbs and things like that. Once I apply this, it'll fix the damage in about five minutes. Only problem is that it's not really meant to be used by other species, so I'll need to inject this directly into the injury. It's going to hurt...a lot. Better hold still!"

Without waiting for the man's reply, Bellhac jabbed the syringe right into his broken foot...

TAGS:
T-229
Meliant
Hubert Starhopper

 

[Hubert Starhopper]

Objective



Tags: @ Meliant @ T-229 @@Ronhar Tane

Gear: LOST



-----------



In the first few moments, Hubert was convinced that the Trooper stabbing him with a giant needle was, in fact- referring to the giant needle as he told him about the pain headed his way. In the next few, that assurance vanished completely, and all that came about his mind was the excruciating pain that begins to pulse through his leg. It feels like the bones in his body are reshaping themselves at the sight of the injury, tearing and ripping at the flesh that surrounds them in their fragmented state, giving no heed to any obstacle which may prevent them from going back into place.

Hubert writhes against the ground, the pain sending his body into convulsions that gave no way to his own control. Each flail, each twist, each twitch completely involuntary as he seizes. His scream- though silent, is frozen upon his face in a state of shocked agony and his breath is caught in his chest. He manages to focus on the troopers through his blurred vision, one of his arms reaching out in its full length in search of some kind of aid, some form of relief to save him from this hell...

Eventually though, the pain begins to settle. Or at least, stop increasing. His skin begins to soften from that reddened color it was taking throughout the ordeal, and he takes a long, dramatically deep breath, forcing it out swiftly. He lies on his back as he catches his breath, his body trembling from a mix of the cold and the seizure that device induced him into.

"Kriff-in... Imps-"

Those are the last two words he manages to muster before his vision blacks out, along with his consciousness yet again. It's just a little more shock than he's used to handling in the matter of a few minutes. Usually, his luck doesn't run this bad...

But at least it's still good enough to keep him breathing... For now.