Devil's Backbone

[Naomi Carolina]

"Do I know you?" The elderly woman squinted up at the teen through the afternoon high sun of the Barkesh canyon skies. The woman's gnarled and stiff hands gripped a carved stick and thunked it impatiently against the red-brown clay. Naomi adjusted the bag on her shoulder and looked down. The teen almost didn't recognize her. Wrinkles seemed a lot deeper than before. Before Barkesh saw war. The woman had been a cook back in the neighboring village. She'd come over on feast days. Naomi's brother could never stop talking about the woman's cardamom apple tarts. The woman might be a good lead, to find what she was looking for in the war-torn country. But right now, she couldn't risk it.

"No ma'am. But. I'm looking fer transport to Copper Ridge."

The elderly woman eyed Naomi something fierce, recognizing that accent. "You sound from around here."

Naomi smiled, freckles spreading across her face in the gesture. "Never said I wasn't, ma'am."

"There's a speeder service by that blue building. Ain't what it used to be since the Order took over. Prices are up and taxes out the whazoo. They can get you to Copper Ridge. Best luck there, girlie."

Fingers reached up to tuck red strands of hair behind her ears. "Thank you ma'am." Turning, the pilot on shore leave in enemy territory turned to go.

 

[Chubs]

Barkhesh's occupation hadn't been kind to the First Order, by any extent of the imagination. While other territories from the First Order's victory over the Galactic Alliance, like Mustafar and Rutan held firm, and enjoyed the benefits reaped by universally free education and healthcare along with lower tax brackets, Barkhesh's society had to an extent refused it. Although the urban populace and working poor accepted the change to an extent there was upheaval and resentment in the provinces.

The nationalisation of industry which had collaborated with the Alliance saw many of the upper class retreat to rural areas, and begin organising militia's to resist. Those militia's were all too willing to help, made up of a reactionary rural class, a group who had for years lived under Alliance rule saw the First Order as a threat, and rose up in arms. These militia's had been mostly contained in the provinces, but terrorist cells had constantly harassed civilians in the cities, performing suicide bombing and other extremist measures to push the occupying victors out.

That was why Barkhesh was under martial law, and why when the young pilot approached the speeder service, she was stopped. Private Baris "Chubs" Hadley approached the woman, with a closed fist raised, "Halt," The trooper commanded in a loud, authoritative voice, "Ma'am, I regret to inform you, that thanks to developments over the last seventy two hours, all transport in and out of this city is currently forbidden." The trooper informed her, "I suggest, that you go to a hotel, and book yourself a room or make arrangements for your accommodation, because nothing is coming in or out of here."

[member="Naomi Carolina"]

 

[Naomi Carolina]

[member="Chubs"]

Hazels widened as a voice hollered at her from across the square. Greens and blues in her eyes focused on the First Order trooper as he stepped between her and the local ground transport service. The guy at the speeder deck shrugged his shoulders, almost apologetically, to Naomi. Seemed a little short for a First Order soldier.

"Alright," the teen finally managed, wondering how [member="Ryan Korr"] would've handled the situation. Or if his rock-grey eyes would've just burned a hole into the trooper from staring. The redhead turned to go but hesitated. "Do you reckon how long the city will be on shutdown fer?"

The more information, the better. [member="Adder"] was waiting for Naomi at some caf shop. It was nice enough her fellow squad-mate decided to join the teen on her own personal mission. Naomi always wondered what she'd do if she found out her family left here was dead. She'd never thought to wonder what she'd do if she never had the chance to find out.

Things were just getting a might bit trickier.

 

[Chubs]

Chubs honestly didn't have a clue. But resorted to the official answer provided by any and all members of the First Order at the lowest level, refer to your superiors. He lowered his arm, and put it back where it had been, holding the barrel of his F-11D rifle. "The city will be locked down until Brigadier General Hertz and Governor Cazador are satisfied that the terrorists responsible for the Maxim Theatre attack have been apprehended."

He paused, and eyed her cautiously from behind his helmet, there was something about her he didn't like. But he couldn't put his finger on it. "Until then, I suggest that you make arrangements for your accommodation." The stormtrooper advised, "Remember, if you see any suspicious activity, report it to either Planetary Defence Force officers, or stormtroopers. We can be reached on holo-frequency, six dash forty two, dash nine, if you have any dangerous behaviour to report."

Satisfied that he'd done his duty, Chubs stood tall, and waited for any further questions. Whether they be about the embargo on travel, the terrorist attack or about anything really. Chubs didn't want to dismiss her, and the commanders told the grunts, that on a volatile system like this, you just had to listen to every qualm, and problem and take it with a smile.

[member="Naomi Carolina"]

 

[Adder]

A caf shop was, indeed, the best hunting grounds to find a wild Adder. Rare as they were, this was practically their natural habitat. If pressed, they would also huddle around crappy insta-caf machines like the one they had on the Subversion.

Operative word ‘they’. They, as in, the grunts.

Because Wingcom Asmus ‘Shetgobbler’ Janes couldn’t be arsed to tell the rest of his diligent, weary, overworked squad about that other, fancier caf machine.

Adder grunted and squeezed the warm cuppa in her hand. It was burnt all to hell and still too hot – she’d picked it up five minutes ago – but feth it, it was caf. She eyed the muddy liquid like one might eye a sock they just unearthed in the old toolbox under the seat, then took a tentative sip.

“Ugh. This is disgusting.”

But she still drank the damn thing. That’s addiction for ya. Another swig of the foul poison, another glance at the dusty display of the clock on the wall.

The hell are you, Freckles?

[member="Naomi Carolina"]

 

[Naomi Carolina]

A smile from a man behind a closed mask holding a F-11D rifle. Sounded like he was talking from a script. And he gave her his digits! Wouldn't Asmus be proud?

"Will do." The teen offered an innocent smile to [member="Chubs"], hands jamming inside her jacket pockets. News to tell @Adder. They'd never had terrorist problems before the First Order occupation. War did many a horrible things. It made the Barkesh-native weary.

Without dawdling any further in front of the trooper, she turned to go, quick, short strides taking her further into the maze of city streets. Dust kicked up along her boots and she had to check herself to keep from looking back. Rounding a corner, she'd disappear from view. In no time, she'd reach the cafe with her wingmate. No doubt the ex-cop was nursing s cup of caf. That woman had a real addiction to the bitter tasting stuff. Yuck.

 

[Vicard Heyn]

Recently torn by war planets were ripe for business. At least that was considered a common knowledge among underground rings. That was one of the reasons that brought Vicard to Barkhesh. An ambitious employer paid good money to set up a smuggling route to Barkhesh.

The other reason were the terrorist cells.

A concerned outsider saw benefit in terrorizing First Order forces constantly on the planet. Someone with skills such as Vicard was needed to support complicated operations such as terror attacks. Others preferred to call it attacks against the aggressor. It all depended on one's point of view.

"Don't think the whole populace's are hellbent on driving the Imps off. There's plenty who love working on their payroll." Krunar the informer sitting across him spoke in a low voice. The two sat on a small table outside the tapcafe. Not the best place for such conversations but the threat of First Order finding out a possible hideout loomed over their heads. Better pick a time when there were less people out in the city socializing. Still a risk, but that's how this business worked.

Vicard thoughtfully assimilated the information from the man but before he could give his response, the sound of hurried feet approaching took his attention. A moment later and a youth passed like a flash. No one in pursuit. Yet.

The agent's nodded at the dashing youth, the question in his mind directed at Krunar.

"Never seen her." The informer answered blankly as the youth sharply turned around a corner. Odd. Vic looked once more at the direction she came from to double check there was no one following.

A couple of credits from Vicard's pocket ended up on the table. With a nod he excused himself as he innocently followed the path the running youth had taken.

Spontaneous.

Call it a detective's intuition.

[member="Naomi Carolina"] @Adder @Chubs


Ooc/ Hey, I saw it's open so I decided to pop in. Let me know if you have any issues with my post and I will gladly edit/delete.

 

[Adder]

The cuppa was empty. The bar was empty. The whole damn street was empty.

Reminded her of those slow, dusty summer weeks in Baron’s hed, where she’d spend her whole day on the front porch of the main (only) watering hole, sipping caf and carving wooden statuettes.

All. Day. Long.

Slow wasn’t always bad, though.

Adder sighed, sagging deeper into the creaky plastic chair. She scrutinized the cheap tablecloth (also plastic). Caf rings – check. Beer spill discoloration – check. Cigarette burns – check. Licking the back of her teeth, the redhead glanced at the only waitress in the joint. A young, bored thing, typing away on her datalogger with complete neglect to her surroundings.

If she pulled out her Westar right then and there, the blondie wouldn’t notice.

“Your Spacebook friends say anything interesting about…” she waved her hand around, “the occupation of the planet?”

The girl stopped typing and looked up, still chewing that damn gum. (With an open mouth, no less.)

“Huh?”
“I said— ah, nevermind. Bring me a refill, would you?”

[member="Naomi Carolina"] | [member="Vicard Heyn"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

Tappity tap tap tap.​

Near silent padding across the small datapad in the man's hands as he worked the device. To a passerby he could have been anyone, a student, a traveling salesman, a tailor even. No, perhaps not. There was another layer there, something about the way his eyes weren't always looking at the screen while he typed, the way he kept eyeing the street like someone was going to suddenly appear and whisk him away. His name was Chimera. Or at least that's what he went by these days. An over the net moniker of an ancient mythical beast - also a caricature of his preferred method of attack.

To say he was physically imposing would have been an outright lie, though his eyes spoke a different story. Dark as the night, a subtle glint revealing something far more sinister lurking beneath the surface. No, Chimera was a slicer, and a damn good one, at least when it came to tech. The street wasn't his home however - a lesson he was learning slowly but surely. As a particularly well dressed gentleman walked by, a surly grin spread across Chimeras face. A gentle vibration indicated the deed was done, his hand slipping into his pocket to silence the device and turned the other direction before stepping off.

 

[Naomi Carolina]

[member="Adder"] [member="Vicard Heyn"] [member="Chubs"]

The Alliance pilot ace was booking it through the port streets. Didn't really notice anyone following her that wasn't wearing trooper armor. She was too busy mulling over what she'd just learned and thinking about how she'd get back home to Copper Ridge. She'd made the walk a few times. Always turned into a family camping trip, when they'd wanted to take things a bit slower. They didn't necessarily need a speeder. It'd just take a bit longer. One night in the wilderness.

And they'd have to get past the city proper.

Teeth gnawed lightly on the inside of her cheek. Hand tugged the caf shop's door open, spotting Adder. Not many folks out even during one of the busiest times of the day.

"Hey," hazels settled on her wing mate as she slid into the chair across from Adder. "Sorry. First Order lacke-," catching herself, she lowered her voice. "Soldier informed me this city port is on lockdown. Something about terrorist attacks."

Leaning forward in her chair, her freckled hands spread across the surface of the sticky, cheap table. "How do you feel about...camping? And dagum. What cup number you on? At this rate you'll have to use the refresher ten times in the next standard hour."

 

[Vicard Heyn]

Vic found the perfect pace to keep up with the wild child. Not fast enough to attract attention not slow enough to lose track.

Caution immediately dug into his heart as the youth entered a caf shop at the end of the street. Eyes wandered around the buildings surrounding it for any threats while not losing heed of what lied ahead of him. Placing his hand in one of his jacket's pockets Vicard took a pack of cigarettes out and lit one up.

Leaning against a lamplight adjacent to the caf with a datapad in his hand the agent decided to wait and see if anything out of the ordinary happened. Eyes fell upon the screen of the datapad but all his attention poured on his surroundings and the entrance of the tapcafe.

[member="Adder"] [member="Naomi Carolina"]

 

[Adder]

“Took your sweet time,” Adder said by way of greeting. She downed the burnt refill – it was that swill from the bottom of the caf pitcher, full of leftover bean and smoke. “Don’t judge others by your weak bladder, Freckles. And camping’s fine.”

She scowled a bit. ‘Fine’ was pushing it, but just about anything was better than spending a single minute more in this musty cafe. The air was thick with smog and distrust and that particular brand of apathy that oppressed people develop as an alternative to slitting their wrists.

“Aight, let’s get out of here. We got a lockdown to beat and about, what… five hours before sundown? Two of those’ll go into planning and supplies, at least. Then we still gotta clear the outskirts and find shelter before the dark.”

She flicked a credit chit to the waitress – landed right on top of her datapad. Adder wasn’t the reigning paper toss champion of the Wraith squadron for nothing, after all.

[member="Naomi Carolina"] | [member="Vicard Heyn"]​

 

[Naomi Carolina]

[member="Adder"] [member="Vicard Heyn"]

"Show off," hazels rolled, a smirk briefly on her lips as the credchit landed with a plop-clink. Standing, the pilot shouldered her pack and headed to the door. "I know a place we can buy some supplies. Bedrolls. Camping gear. Should be owned by the same couple my ma used to visit."

Her ma. With a twist in her gut, she wondered if she'd ever see her again. Was this a fruitless mission? Was her ma and youngest brother already dead?

"And don't worry city girl. You ain't gonna die from one night in the Barkesh wilderness." The teen shot Adder a smug little grin, picking up on the woman's slight hesitations about camping in her tone from earlier. As they exited the shop, hazels briefly glanced in Vicard's direction but didn't register anything off. The redhead was too focused getting what they needed and moving out.

Odd though, cause it almost seemed like she'd seen him somewhere before.

 

[Adder]

Adder clapped the younger girl on the shoulder with a warm smile. Didn’t need no words to offer support.

“I know,” the redhead huffed, good-natured. “But getting eaten alive by insects is a fate worse than death.” She swelled easily, and Force only knew what oversized, man-eating monstrosities lurked beyond the few outposts of civilization on the wild world.

Wiping her humid, sticky-sweat hands into her pants, Adder assessed their surroundings. Late afternoon dry spell in the streets. Most folks were content to stick to the insides of air conditioned bars and houses. Or pools.

She cast a longing stare in the direction of the sign, then squeezed Freckles’ shoulder. “Lead the way, kiddo.”

[member="Naomi Carolina"] | [member="Vicard Heyn"]​

 

[Tanaski Yumi]

Terrorist why was it always terrorist, after being told off by a trooper about a lock down around the planet all previous plans came to a dead halt, being stuck on a First Order world for an unknown amount of time was not a welcoming though> Especially if the followers of Ren or any other force sensitive working for the First Order caught on. Despite being relatively skilled at keeping his force signature hidden if a Master of the knights of Ren showed up he'd be in trouble.

He decided to make his way through the city, bored as hell and unable to do anything amusing for the time being, 'guess ill just try and find a place to hold up for tonight, make a note get a ship I can sleep in'. In the distance was a caf shop, more civilized than a bar or cantina, perhaps the owner would know of a hotel nearby. Looking around briefly everything seemed to be normal, though the man leaning up against the lamp post smoking seemed a little strange, force intuition and all, though maybe it was just paranoia.

Entering the caf shop he was greeted to a vile smell, what ever place this was had very low standards, 'get directions get out, no point in staying here longer then necessary'.

[member="Adder"]
[member="Naomi Carolina"]
[member="Vicard Heyn"]

 

[Vicard Heyn]

Doors slid open and Vicard felt his senses sharpen at the individuals leaving out. The digital text of some news on his datapad blurred completely as he tried to analyze the persons of interest exiting the tapcafe.

The young girl with the bag followed by an eccentric looking woman. Now there could be a million normal reasons for the these two to hang out but Vic had the awful habit of overthinking when something caught his attention. He assumed that would be what kills him some day.

Hopefully not today.

The agent would patiently await for the duo to gain a good amount of distance before he would begin following them. Occasionally, he'd take out his datapad and feign browsing it as if he was browsing Spacebook.

Or some other of these billions of ad ridden apps.

[member="Adder"] [member="Naomi Carolina"]

 

[Naomi Carolina]

[member="Adder"][member="Tanaski Yumi"] [member="Vicard Heyn"]

A tentative smile wound its way around her lips. The teen was mighty glad Adder decided to share some leave time and come on this trip with her. It was important. Hopefully Asmus wouldn't can their hides when they got back to the Subversion. If that got back.

"C'mon." A hand wiped across her freckled brow as she made a sharp turn to the left, walked a few paces, and then took another to the right, raising her fist to knock on a metal door painted with green-chipped paint. The door slid open and a large man with a potbelly stared them down, meaty-arms crossed. He definitely had an off-world accent. Probably from Coruscant.

"Yeah? Whaddyah want?" Dark-eyes squinted. "Naomi?! It IS you."

Suddenly, the shorter red-head was scooped up into a bear-hug. "Sal. Sal," she squirmed, getting a good whiff the grease-oil stains on his shirt. "Glad you're still here but uh, could you put me down? We need some...gear."

"STARS. Just glad to see yah kid. I was worried with the war. Hadn't heard much from Copper Ridge." Naomi found herself back on solid ground. "Who's your pal?"

Her chin tipped to her Alliance wingmate. "Adder. Sal. Old family friend. Mechanic, shopkeeper, chef some days. He kinda does it all."

 

[Tanaski Yumi]

The two that left as he came into the cat shop caught a bit of attention, in the assassination business you tended to pick up on when people had certain feels about them, combined with the force finding out people's intentions could be done. The teen with a large array of freckles on their face and the merc looking one with the pink Mohawk definitely had somthing important, to do, weather it was worth investigating for his own amusement was another's thing, slowly he sat down at the counter, becoming the owner.

"Hello their, could you do me a favour, did you happen to overhear those two talking about anything important".

The owner responded him a frown "and what's it worth to me, im not just giving away people private information like a cheap drink".

A sly smirk appeared across his face "so tell, how much would that said drink cost, perhaps this much" he payed down 200 credits on the counter. He didn't really care how much he overpaid, most likely he'd blow the it on later occasion bribing a guard or something similar. The bartender gave a slightly worried look before answering, "I did hear something about them gathering camping gear, probably spending some time out in the wild, don't know why".

"Thank you I'll be on my way", This new information some questions, with the lock down and terrorist about, the only reason someone would being going out that place, is if they worked for one of the sides, and he was confident they were not with the First Order. Exciting the store he walked down an ally out of sight and decided to take to the roofs in an attempt to track down the duo down, "this will be interesting".

[member="Naomi Carolina"]
[member="Vicard Heyn"]
[member="Adder"]

 

[Adder]

“Hi,” Adder shook his meaty paw, “nice to meet yah.” Her Coruscanti drawl bled through as she grinned at the wardrobe of a man. “Mechanic, lawkeeper, pilot some days. And Naomi-sitter, every day.”

She ruffled Freckles’ hair and gave her an one-armed hug. “Could yah let us inside, tho? This lockdown’s making me a slight nervous.”

Her cop instincts were kicking in – an unpleasant weight in her gut that had nothing to do with the martial law of the First Order. She didn’t want to worry the kid yet, but something felt off. Best get out of sight as fast as possible.

[member="Vicard Heyn"] | [member="Naomi Carolina"] | [member="Tanaski Yumi"]

 

[Vicard Heyn]

Immediately after the duo under pursuit stopped in front of a door and a bulky man popped out, Vic shuffled to the left as nonchalantly as possible. The empty streets of noon allowed him to lean on the wall of the building and cautiously glimpse at the group talking without raising alarms from any passerby.

The distance played against him and the lack of wind meant sound would have a hard time reaching his ears. The bulky man though was louder than the rest so he could hear the man utter a name belonging to the younger girl. Some ridge and...lawkeeper. He wondered if he had heard it right. The change of the tone of voice meant it was the more eccentric looking lady talking. First Order employees? Vic highly doubted it. The agent braved a longer glance at the woman noticing her body language. To the untrained it wouldn't make any difference but to the trained - signs of nervousness. Dreadfully subtle which raised Vic's concerns on the identity of the woman. Subtle body language meant training so the lawkeeper made sense.

While his curiosity was fading on the way, it spiked up drastically after this short, barely heard conversation between the two ladies and the bulky man.


[member="Adder"] [member="Naomi Carolina"] [member="Tanaski Yumi"]