End of Line [The Empire vs. The Alliance]

[Deacon Olraen]

Spinnaker-class Light Carrier RNS Bucolic
Eriadu High Orbit

“...with the bacon nice and crunchy, and lots of black pepper in the mayo. I'm telling you, you ever want to believe in a higher power, make one of those - fresh tomatoes, though, they have to be fresh-”

“Ah, Captain,” said the Barabel sensor operator with profound relief, “sssorry to interrupt, but a sssituation appearsss to be developing.”

Deak’s belly growled. “All right, let's see it.”

A holographic display snapped to life across the bridge’s main window. “An Imperial frigate, sssir.”

The mildly oversexualized Falleen comms officer put a hand to her ear. “They're asking for asylum. Alliance assets are going to high alert. We've been asked to stand ready.”

Deak took a long swig of lukewarm caf. “Ready in case of...frigate?”

The Falleen exchanged long-suffering looks with the Barabel at sensors. “Well, sir, there might be more of them.”

“Sure. Well, crap. Go to alert status indigo and get the combat air patrol looped in.” Out there, three silver Naboo fighters inscribed a precise arc across the bridge’s field of view. Deak thought serious thoughts about how long it might take to make a sandwich.

 

[Allyson Locke]

ERIADU TRADE STATION

The security uniform wasn’t always the most comfortable but it was part of the gig. At least this time around she wasn’t some sexy nurse or something else that was going to be overly hot. Frowning, she adjusted her collar and made sure the blaster at her side was loaded and ready. The blaster had a couple of settings which would help if the target was the type to fight. Clearing her throat, she waited for the alarm to sound and right on queue she wandered down the hall. Over the radio, she echoed and said she was going to take care of the VIP individual.

She took her time of course, she had heard who this woman was and there were a few sore spots in Ally’s mind about the lovely station FIS Kuragin. Sighing heavily, she finally made it down to the suit that the woman was residing in. She wasn’t alone, but who was going to question security right? Adjusting the badge on her shirt, she knocked quickly. The voice echoed and she groaned. Typical First Order military folk, Allyson bit her tongue as she shook her head. You would think someone with such elegance would have a silver tongue or something like that. Cursing quietly, she knocked once more.

“Ma’am I’m here to escort you to safety it’s the orders of the station, please comply.” As much as Ally wanted to just leave Fiolette here to die, it was an order that she lived and arrived on the doorstep of the Galactic Alliance. Another heavy sigh as Allyson knew this wasn’t supposed to be a mission she was supposed to get. Again, she knocked, “Ma’am I have an order and I’d really like to keep this peaceful. So please open the door and we can get you out of here safely.”

[member="Fiolette Yvarro"]

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

Petrovsky wrote a quick response to [member="Kalad Shysa"] and looked over at Fiolette, "ma'am your order should be completed within the specified timeframe, as per your agreement with Natural Fleurtations."

"Good," she remarked and turned back to the door where a second knock was made. "Listen, I'm sure you're a rather nice fellow but I believe you'll recall your government's last performance? As much as I believe you're quite capable of protecting me." She'd take her chances on her own, "I do believe I'll be better off on my own, thank you."

She walked away from the door and transitioned to the bedroom. "Petrovsky, Dansen I trust you to keep watch." Fiolette shut the door and began to make herself comfortable. The alarms bothered her none, years of military training and hearing various klaxons have allowed her to get somewhat comfortable with the tones. Her back was turned to the doorway itself shirt was unbuttoned and she stood there at the provided dresser where a tray had been set forth. "You'd think they'd at least have a good collection..." her voice trailed as she threw off her blazer and heels. The room itself was rather bland and she was without whiskey or brandy, with the exception of rather poor gin. "This is repayment for that time I stole a glass from father, isn't it." The former grand admiral said to no one and let out a sigh.

Little did Fiolette know that [member="Allyson Locke"] had been the one waiting, because if she had known she would have certainly opened the door to land a fist on the SIS Agent.

An opportunity she'll want back later, surely.

 

[Giorg Montey]

The anticipation was killing him, a hyperspace jump had never felt so long. It had been a long time since Montey had been in combat, and even longer since he had his own command in combat. He did not want to foul his chances at retaining his commission, or stagnate his career by a lackluster performance. But he could let him get ahead of himself, he was in command of an escort cruiser, not a battleship, he would have to make sure to follow his superior's orders, Admiral [member="Gromm Cardan"], and not get entangled with his own fantasies of glory. What Montey needed, was to calm down, and he knew just the way. Montey turned to his first officer, casually saying, "I'm going to go finish up on some datawork of my own, in my stateroom. I leave the bridge in your hands, Commander Keuar." Keuar nodded, pulled a casual salute, which Montey returned, and went back into his work. The deck stood at attention, and Montey made his leave of the bridge.

Montey walked down three decks to his stateroom, constantly scratching the back of his neck, as his anxiety over the attack was getting at him. He had never been so relieved to see the monotone door that held the placard, CO QUARTERS. Montey took a deep breath, and entered. The room was fairly bland, although larger than any other officer's quarters, it'd be a blatant lie to call the compartment, roomy. Tightly placed in the corner was a grey bed, with untucked sheets, and to the left of the room, taking up most of the space, was a metal desk featuring a console and chair. At one end of the room was a door to the private restroom the stateroom boasted, again, nothing much. Montey took a heavy seat and unlocked his console with a simple voice command, "Console; Montey dash three-three-eight." Montey was rocking in his chair as his console slowly booted, continually scratching the back of his neck. Montey gazed around his desk, stopping all movement when he saw a small holographic display. It displayed a three dimensional image of him with his ex-wife Theresa, he remembered the photo fondly. It had been their fourth, and final, anniversary. The holograph display switched holograms to one of his nephew Juey, snapping out of the memory flashback. The console revealed a plethora of datawork to file, Montey cracked his knuckles and started typing.

 

[Cynthia Alucard]

En Route: ERIADU
Location: 7th Fleet (In Hyperspace)
[member="Gromm Cardan"]


The Imperial pilot suit felt rather heavy, and Cyn still felt out of place in it when outside her TIE Interceptor. Speaking of her craft Cyn walked closer to the railings to better watch the hanger-bay around her, TIE's and landing craft all being moved in preparations for anything. Her gloved fingers tapping her forearm, showing anticipation before making her way down the steps to meet up with her squad-mates. Cyn waved them down as she approached them and gave her Flight Lieutenant a salute.

"Welcome back Cyn," One of the nearby pilots greeted, "Thought the Eighty-Second was going to need to send out the scouts to find you." the pilot continued, earning a few chuckles from most of the gathered groups.

"Would have been a funny sight to see, scout bikes running wild inside the hanger," Cyn replied, a playful smile formed as she stifled a laugh. "Anyways L.T. said after our debriefing we were allowed a few minutes to ourselves," Cyn added nodding to her squadron leader.

"That I did," The Flight Lieutenant responded, his voice low, "our orders are to wait at stand-by and we will be apart of the second wave of fighters being launched," He explained, offering a nod to everyone, "The enemy will most likely be surprised by our attacks, but that will not excuse any sloppy flying. . . move out!" He ordered. All pilots visibly straightened and Cyn marched back towards her TIE Interceptor.

"Hey Cyn, never really got a straight answer from you about this but," Her wing-man started, "I heard you could have been a leading your own squadron right out of the academy, how come you didn't take the offer?" He asked.

Cyn turned her head, her hands resting on the TIE's wing and giving it a soft pat, "A miss out being under L.T. Johnny? Besides who would be here to protect your sorry excuse of flying?" Cyn responded with a small laugh, her wing-man only sighed heavily, "Honestly, didn't think I was ready to lead," Cyn explained, turning to face her TIE.

"Well, I'll tell what else you aren't ready for-" Her wing-man responded, Cyn turned to face the man, "-me becoming an Ace today," He explained.

"Well then, first one to become an Ace won't have to pay for drinks for entire week," Cyn wagered.

"Three weeks."

"Deal."

 

[Keyan Mastigar]

"Stealth ships report that the Alliance has not taken the bait. In fact, they've gone on high alert."

Commander Praxon rattled off the report on his datapad, drumming his fingers against one of the bridge consoles near Cardan. "How peculiar of them, it's not like they could've known of our arrival beforehand, we only just entered hyperspace a few minutes ago." The grand admiral mused "Still, it pays to be alert in this day and age. We'll have to move to Plan 1B-Omega, execute it immediately."

It was masked perfectly, small enough to slip the jamming field and into the welcoming arms of the Imperial frigate's E-WAR suite, possibly only being considered as minor interference. "Roger [SIZE=10.5pt]roger[/SIZE]." The 'captain' of the ship voiced out loud to nobody in particular, commanding the 'crewmen' to disable the ion drives and let the ship drift lifelessly towards the planet of Eriadu.

A message would attempt to breach the jamming, [SIZE=10.5pt]hopefully[/SIZE] to be picked up by the Alliance before it was too late: "This is the INV Unity, your jamming has rendered our navigational systems inoperable. We've lost control of- hypermatter bre-" The voice cut off slightly and then just stopped, it seemed as if the issue had spread to their communications array as well.

[member="Aryn Teth"] | [member="Deacon Olraen"]​

 

[Mathieu Bahreiko]

[member="Gromm Cardan"]

The woman eyed the Imperial ship with dispassionate eyes, cupping her chin with her index finger and thumb in thought. More and more, she turned over the events and what they knew, the more certain she was that this was not a simple defection. It was in the wrong system, at the wrong time, with all the wrong signs. One person defecting was a relatively simple affair to handle, but an entire ship... That meant dozens, hundreds of people who had to be vetted and questioned. There was the question of what to do with the ship, how likely it was that there was a trap on board. This was not a process that could be rushed. It would take time to complete. For another, if the ship had truly defected, how had it done so without an Imperial pursuit or engagement? Surely someone tried to stop them, but there was no damage to be observed from the ship. So then... what?

When they intercepted the transmission from the ship, she raised an eyebrow and a mirthless smile came over her face. The ship had arrived at the edge of the planet's gravity well and sat there. Sensors had found no trace of damage on the ship from weapons fire. No power to engines or weapons, but they kept their shields up. And now the dramatic claim... "H-How is that possible?" An aide asked beside her, clearly concerned. Some others on the bridge seemed to share her reaction while many had the same cautious, suspicious look on their faces that the Admiral herself had. This was an awfully dramatic, and convenient, turn of events to try and lower their guard.

"It's not," the older admiral said. "Unless the Imperial navy possesses woefully incompetant techs and catastrophically decrepit equiment, no mere sensor jammer could have an effect like that on a ship. All a sensor jammer will do is prevent any useful data collection from occurring. It's certainly not going to cause any loss of control, unless their firewalls were so poorly designed that we could remotely control their vessel. which we're not. Still..." She eyed the frigate with a thin frown. "As Admiral, I'm hereby activating Contingency Saber Four." The bridge was silent for a moment before the message was broadcast across secure channels. "Have two Star Defenders activate their tractor beams. Hold the frigate at the edge of the planet's gravity well. Clear the channel the Imperials broadcast their message from and broadcast an alert that we're sending four shuttles to evacuate their personnel. Per the Contingency, activate the planetary shield and have all ships switch shields to double front."

Two massive Star Defenders, each dwarfing the Imperial ship in size and mass alone, pushed forward slightly and engaged their tractor beams to hold the frigate away from the Alliance station or ships. Four dropships flew towards the frigate. The known Imperial channel was freed from jamming, and humanitarian messages were broadcast from each shuttle. Behind the Alliance fleet and orbital presense, the planet seemed to shimmer slightly as the shield was activated. The barrier began to encircle the planet, protecting it from any damage that came from a ship's destruction.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

The fighters from Aleph kept a flight path that allowed them to survey the ship that had recently arrived in system. The flight leader was not going to be making contact with the ship, not until they were given permission, but he was getting the reports that it came in from First Order space. That was not a good sign. And the fact that these frakkers were bold enough to come to Eriadu? They were a half a jump outside of Sullust. Not the brightest move they could have made, now was it?

De Raam shook his head. “Any orders, command?” He called back to the leadership. He understood they were jamming the ship, but were they going to move it? “Pull back, or remain?” This was going out on an encrypted channel.
[member="Mathieu Bahreiko"]

Meanwhile, back in Sullust, it appeared that the news of the situation at Eriadu was on the military broadcast. Sure, there was the defense at other places, but strike forces were just placed on an elevated alert. Nothing to be worried on. Some ballsy Imperial decided that heading to the heart of Alliance turf. Why not go to a border world? How the hell did they get that close without some flight plans?

Wasn’t a matter he knew a few ships would be deploying from Sullust, it was just a matter of no one getting the order to jump in. The Spear would pull from the Sullust defense fleet, but not all that many. Just enough to hit the enemy with a show of force, if the Empire was even going to show up. Chances are the ship that was defecting would just be escorted to deadspace to be dealt with.

“I dunno. They really think we’re the dominiate power in the galaxy by being incompetent? They really need to screen their eugenics programs better. Both Empire and Firsties.” They weren’t half the enemy the Sith Empire was. He shook his head as he approached the pilot.

“Well, if you’re lucky, we may get some combat shortly. Received word of a possible situation at Eriadu. Could be nothing, could be something.” Starchaser shrugged. “Though, if you’re really lucky, we’ll just get you to your Squadron and have you initiated. I think there is a dunk tank involved…” He grinned. “So, if the Empire thinks we’re that incompetent, we may be dealing with something if their trap gets sprung, but… we have ways to handle this kind of attack.” He waved his hand.

“Where you from, pilot?”
[member="Tristram Vos"]

 

[Corric Tassadar]

Corric had to admit: waiting was a very big part of Gorgon's job. Action, unlike the holovids would portray, was only 10% of what they did; 50 percent went to waiting and the remaining 40 was reduced to punching numbers onto papers for the debriefing. However, cooped up within their shuttle awaiting entry to real space aboard the Dauntless all '43 could do with the rest of his comrades was to sit and play mind games with himself: nobody else in the cramped compartment looked like they wanted to talk anyway. People had their own way of dealing with pre-combat stress.

A green blip on his HUD caught the Lieutenant by flatfooted, jerking his head in surprise. Tartarus Actual never contacted them this close to a combat op, whoever their mysterious commanding officer was. Officer- as though it couldn't have been a conglomerate of brilliant minds sending half-as-brilliant men to die on some god-forsaken, back water planet in the name of Imperial peace.

Or terror, really. Muting himself from the outside world, he gave the voice command to open the audio file and listened.

​

"Gorgon 1-1, this is Tartarus Command. Be advised, a replacement for '07 has been found and is currently aboard the Dauntless awaiting briefing: DT-0911 will serve as Gorgon's rifleman under callsign Gorgon 1-2. All non-essential information has been uploaded to your system's files. Have a nice day."​

'43 blinked. The world continued to surprise him.

Motioning for the rest of his team to step aside from the ramp, he banged twice on the walls of the shuttles to let the pilot know he was heading out. As slow as it could ever be, the rear pried open revealing the hustle of the hangar bay, and as the view finally completed itself, lo and behold there '11 was.

Or at least, Corric assumed given that he was the only clad-in-black trooper amongst the hundreds of white-armoured soldiers rushing to their combat stations. He looked as stupid as stupid could be, but fully equipped and prepared for combat; Jabber appreciated the Tartarus's sentiment, wondering who he could lodge his complaint to. As far as unwanted and unexpected surprises came, this was a kick in the head for him.

Releasing a sigh that came out as a slow, hoarse hiss, Corric pointed at the trooper and his combat gear, assessing the man. "UUTMMNEXNBYEEUBWXRX2YMSO." he pointed at both of his troopers behind him. "HSARXX9MENBU3XXTT1," jerking a thumb back at the squad's marksman. "DT4USID2MCN2MRAB4ENYXXXXXATANH." he said, pointing towards the team's demolition's expert.

Thumping his chest plate, he continued his introduction. "G4RNLAAXSGSOQDEUXDXXI3OM. EUINSHAUWDGIIUITESMSYRRO." Motioning for the operator to enter the dropship, he turned his head around to give him another blank look. "ENNOGSBTO1TISEIOBMGOXX1XXSPITP. . . .EHTEVRPODEUYLEILSO."

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[member="Lucius Montey"] | [member="DT-2319"] | [member="Isaac Stover"] | [member="Mark Hawkins"]​

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Double Transposition Code Keys for Player Benefit:

1. GORGON
2. TERROR

Handy Link: Here

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[Vilhelm Balfour]

"Sir, we have reports that Plan 1B-Omega is in execution." Comms officer Reeson declared, as the Arbiter traveled through hyperspace. Balfour sighed. Though it had only been a few hours it seemed to Balfour, and many of the crew, they they had been waiting for over a week to get out of hyperspace and rally an attack against the Galactic Alliance. Instead they were still in hyperspace, waiting for the travel to be complete.

"Keep me informed of the situation Ensign." Balfour responded, as he pulled out a cigarra and put it ablaze. Rank, privilege, all that. It amazed him that they constantly needed subterfuge and baiting tactics to fight an enemy. Sure, it was never preferable to fight on even ground, but at a certain point it was inevitable that one would not always have the advantage. Balfour expected two things from his commanding officers. A heart of valor and the mind of a tactician. Too much bravado and one could overwhelm themselves above their capability, too little and one could only take the safe ventures, never truly becoming great. Balfour had recently felt something was missing from the Galactic Empire, and he was beginning to place what exactly it was.

It was no matter though. Balfour was confident. He'd fix things, one way or another.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

This action cleared in advance with [member="Vilhelm Balfour"]

INS Arbiter
Hyperspace

An eye-searing flash of blue! A tiny figure whirling against turbulent hyperspace! A knock at a nearby hatch! Truly these events might have seemed just as surreal to an onlooker as to the man who stumbled onto Balfour's bridge. Frost rimed his space suit, and he was shivering.

"I saw monitor intercepts that looked like there might be a ship stuck in hyperspace," he said, putting a large tool box on the deck. "I'm Jorus Merrill. Sorry for the weird entrance, but FTL accidents are no joke, and it's all about time, isn't it. Hope I can help-"

He wiped frost away from his helmet and, appropriately, froze. Slow as he could, he raised both hands in the universal declaration of surrender. There were an awful lot of armed Galactic Empire personnel looking at him.

"Oh. Uh, hi there, Moff Balfour."

 

[Vilhelm Balfour]

In hyperspace aboard the INS Arbiter


Knock knock knock. A sound echoed just east of the bridge, almost as if one was knocking on a door.

"Sergeant Klein, investigate." Balfour commanded, to which a quick "Yes sir." was given. The trooper took his squad and found a hatch at which a sentient seemed to be knocking. Why a man-sized hatch to the outer hull was so nearby the bridge was a mystery to Sgt. Klein, but he went through airlock procedures and let the creature in while ensuring his team was ready to fire upon a potential threat.

In came a humanoid in a vac-suit, who began explaining he had found that there was a ship stuck in hyperspace. The suit's viewport was fogged, with no apparent extra holocam, and the being continued walking on his way to the bridge despite the arms raised against him. More troopers made their way to the bridge as several bridge officers, including Balfour himself, raised blasters until the man stopped and wiped his viewport to reveal . . .

[member="Jorus Merrill"].

"Sergeant Klein, ensure our guest is separated from any weapons he may be carrying." Balfour ordered, and the Stormtroopers would search the man and confiscate his toolbox. "Lieutenant Falx, order a cam-sweep of the outer hull." One of Balfour's Bridge crew went to work, while another coordinated a sweep of the ship's corridors.

"Captain Merrill, I'd like very much to know why you are on my ship."

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Vilhelm Balfour"]

Stormtroopers removed from Jorus Merrill's person:

- One blaster pistol
- One utility belt
- One toolbox
- One multitool knife
- One boot knife
- One set of keychain brass knuckles

All of the above were pretty standard carry for him, living in the Outer Rim as he did. He thought about asking for a receipt and opted against it.

"Well, it's like I said. There's hyperspace monitors all over these sectors - Alliance, Omega, Naboo - and I'm tied into some of them. Don't tell Sullust. Anyways, they picked up a ship or group of ships that had been in hyperspace for a week, maybe with a busted hyperdrive. So I poked at a course, asked the Force for a lift, grabbed a toolbox, and here I am. Nothin' nefarious. I'm as surprised to see you as vice versa."

 

[Vilhelm Balfour]

A couple of men under Klein's command would take the items procured from [member="Jorus Merrill"] and take them away from his view. More specifically a couple of technicians would check out the toolbox and the utility belt to make sure that nothing was particularly dangerous or remotely activate-able.

On the bridge Balfour kept his eyes on the ORC Diplomat as he explained his story. It seemed entirely too random for Balfour to believe, but at the same time he could tell the man wasn't expecting Balfour to be here. That didn't mean he wasn't dangerous, valor and tactics and all that, but he still appeared he didn't come here with a plan. That meant the chance of extra saboteurs was low.

"We'll ignore, just for the moment, the quandary of 'asking the Force for a lift' into hyperspace. What do you believe my problem is, how do you plan to fix it, and what do you normally charge for it?"

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Vilhelm Balfour"]

The techs would find nothing untoward in the confiscated material, and nothing that could be activated remotely.

"I've seen this problem in Imperial ships before. The governing motivator has probably gone to condition yellow - it just can't make itself engage, and that causes a cascade failure down through everything until your ship just won't get where it's going. I plan to fix it by cutting the busted motivator out of the loop and substituting a link to an ad-hoc group of lower-tier motivators from other systems. They're usually built to a higher standard. Normal fee for that repair on a ship this size, about a hundred twenty thousand, plus expenses. I don't make crisis markups. Not your fault you're in this mess."

 

[Vilhelm Balfour]

“I see.” Balfour replied. His first officer would make radios with the hyperdrive techs to confirmas Balfour and Jorus spoke. Balfour expected him to be right, but it was good his men knew to follow procedure.

“Well here’s the rub then Captain. Your price is fair, but there’s something I need from you.” Balfour said, as he pulled out a cigarra. “I have a man who’s been captured by the ORC. A naval officer by the name of @Fabian. ([member="Gorba the Hutt"]) I am not want for prisoner exchanges, but I need my man back.” Balfour said and lit the cigarra. There were too few trusted men nowadays. Balfour would need everyone he could muster.

 

[Rick Kaloo]

NOTE: I've been inactive for almost a week, so this may be a little bit rushed in my attempts to get back into the present Chaos events.​

​

​

ANS Fatebound​

SULLUST ----> ERIADU​

​

SU: GA​

HO: GE (Did I say FO? How embarrassing)​

OB: Investigate the situation​

​

After Rick lost Destiny in the First Order blockade, his superiors had made an offer to him, seeing that his skill could be applied differently than how he was currently using it. They would give Rick a cruiser, and he would be extra thoughtful before making reckless moves. Due to its large anti-starfighter weaknesses, Rick was also allowed to bring two of Ne-Cal's own Essex starfighter killers into the fleet under the conditions set above.

He accepted this deal, promising not to attempt such acts. Despite the fact that Destiny had made up for its destruction in damage to the Order fleet and morale, its impact was vastly in the shadow of Itsukusk's ramming run. Rick was also aware that part of becoming a greater fleet commander was to not expend a ship every battle. After the deal, a new part of Rick's naval life began.

Rick and his new flagship, Fatebound, and its escorts were stationed in Sullust as part of an alternating planetary defense fleet when an order came in from Command for Fatebound to break off from the fleet and jump to Eriadu. An Imperial fleet had jumped there and was currently at a standstill with other Alliance vessels, and tensions were running high. The more ships the Alliance brought, the more daunting an attack on the Alliance would seem. Rick obliged, his trio of vessels jumping to lightspeed just three minutes after the order was given.

As the vessels flew through a sea of blue and white, preparations were made. Fatebound's Raptor cannons were loaded, its warhead launchers filled, and its boarding shuttles, still a relatively new concept to Rick, prepared for deployment. Stations were manned, and radio frequencies were set.

"When we get out of here, we will NOT start firing at the enemy. We are currently at a standoff, and we want to keep it that way for now. But it's always better to be prepared, so maintain combat readiness." Rick ordered. "We may have all suffered in these past years, especially me, but we continue to have hope for a better future, it will eventually work out."

​

Spoiler: Rick's new vessels

ANS Fatebound (Flagship) - Shielding: 100%, Armor: 100%, Engines: Hyperspace
ANS Truth - Shielding: 100%, Armor: 100%, Engines: Hyperspace
ANS Foresight - Shielding: 100%, Armor: 100%, Engines: Hyperspace

 

[Mark Hawkins]

'Well.. this'll be fun..' Mark Hawkins, or "DT-0911" as he was called now, was walking to a shuttle aboard the star destroyer "Dauntless" a sense of purpose in his step, his brand new shining black armor shining with glare from the bay's lights. He'd been assigned to a rather particular Death Trooper unit. "Gorgon" they were called. He didn't understand the point of such a name, but he really didn't care. All he cared about was cracking the heads of whoever the empire pointed their finger at, and said "Sick em." After all, what were they other than especially deadly dogs of war?

Straightening up as he approached the shuttle, Mark readied his mind for what his new commander would have to say. He knew his record was impressive to most, but to Death troopers, it was probably more like the cute drawing of a child. Mark came to attention, and sounded off with a simple "Sir!"

He listened to the little rundown his new commanding officer gave, and responded accordingly.

"EBTIOLOLFSSOMAYRDETIXXIXRTYEHR!"

'Let's hope he's chill about protocol like the 501st..'

 

[Mark Hawkins]

[Ignore this post]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Vilhelm Balfour"]

Few things could trash an enclosed ecosystem like fire. Jorus had an instinctive distrust of cigarras due to a life spent on small boats with small life support systems. Balfour was a planetary man, clearly - and a Galactic Empire destroyer's air filtration could handle exponentially more interference.

"I don't know the case well, but I know of it. Picked up off Dagobah a hot minute back." A reminder, if he needed it, that the Alliance and the Empire were at war now. He decided not to ask about Balfour's mission. Not good business. "I'll look into it and see what I can do. Best I can offer without knowing the specifics, but you've got my word on it. Now you mind if I get to your motivator before you run into a supernova?"