Mission Fight Mercs, Get Paid | Neshtab

[0-7]

Fight Mercs, Get Paid
Neshtab
Tags: Maarva Koh , Nej Tane , James 'Slinger' Antilles , Nir Si , (Open, DM for entry)

NK-Witell-class Freighter, 0A-155
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Between the fall of the Galactic Alliance and the Galactic Empire, the frigid world of Neshtab had been through hell. Once a state of the New Imperial Order, Neshtab would find a breif period of security being taken into the fold of the GA. That period has come to a close. Now in neutral space and with no superpower yet to reach out to defend it, Neshtab has been ripe for the taking. Remnants of the Hutt Space Consortium, born from the depths of the ancient Hutt Cartel, have moved in and begun an intensive mining operation to gather as much natural resources as they could muster. They're looking to prepare an abandoned Imperial station within the depths of the icy mountains to be their base of operations. With a small local population that would exhaust fast, these remnants are already in discussion with Zygerria for the acquisition of more slave laborers when the natives are depleted.

In the infancy of the operation, before any mining could even begin, something slipped through the cracks. Now a wealthy benefactor with an unknown identity looks to send individuals to combat the former Consortium mercenaries. The description of the job is simple: Fight mercs, get paid. 100,000 credits on the line to be split to whoever didn't die, this team has been provided with a small Nuclear Charge to be taken to the building's reactor. The facility, while a formal Imperial outpost, is not yet fully operational, with all auto-guns not expected to be online for another day.

This benefactor were kind enough to provide them with an IPV-2C Stealth Corvette and a droid pilot, there to shuttle them down to the outskirts of the structure and await later extraction. No explenation for where the resources came from, no nothing. Now, as they approached the atmosphere of Neshtab, the individuals chosen for the job anticipate the coming operation.


Seven sat in her seat and let out an exhale. She hadn't said a word to anyone. There was good reason not to as of yet. Screwing up a nuclear payload was a one way trip to hell. There was an excuse there that she was just trying to maintain her clarity so the job went smooth.

That was a lie though. She just didn't want to chat.

"T-minus 5 minutes and counting," the droid pilot spoke, it's tone flat and emotionless.

Seemed like she wasn't going to be enjoying her vow of silence for much longer. Communication was important for not getting blasted into the next life.

Even if she didn't want to.

 

[James 'Slinger' Antilles]

James was checking his weapons. Sling and Sting. Priscilla. Stick It. Six Thermal Grenades.

Normally James was the chatty sort, even before a job or mission. He liked easing the tension of the room he was in with easy conversation and blather. Normally he'd have no problem taking out a bunch of slavers. Normally he'd be downright cheery at the prospect. Normally he wouldn't be using nukes.

James considered the other members of this little expedition. They were hard warriors all of them. Growing up in this galaxy tended to do that to a population. All of them came from different paths in life, James was sure of that, all of them could handle themselves in a fight or else they wouldn't be here. It was risky putting together a team for an op like this so quickly, but then it meant less exposure. This was do or die. If James fell here well he'd risked his life for worse.

It had been awhile, a long damn while since James had been on a mission like this. Most of James's jobs had more to do with out gunslinging gangsters and pirates. In fact James couldn't remember if he'd ever handled a nuclear payload before. All he could say was he was glad he wasn't the one handling it.

As for his conscious it was more or less clear, James had no sympathy for slavers. The only reason he didn't take more extreme action against them more often, well he didn't like the thought of becoming someone who could kill casually as often as he liked without conscience.

In this case though James was prepared to make an exception. The people they were fighting needed to be taken down. Revolutions weren't fought bloodlessly, harsh calls needed to be made, ruthlessness exhibited. Every so often one had to do something that plagued your mind.

Or so James kept telling himself. Fact was there was too much greater evil in the galaxy, every flavour of Imperial throughout history, every flavour of Sith, Mandalorian crusaders of various stripes. Then there were the parasites like the Hutts, gangsters, pirates, slavers, spice dealers. The ones who took advantage of the chaos to set up their own little fiefdoms.

Somebody had to do something, James couldn't just keep dodging the fight, flying away as soon as things got too hairy for him from system to system. Something had to be done, someone had to do it, James had decided if no one else was going to do it he would… or die trying.

No, they deserved what was coming to them. James closed his eyes took a breath and nodded resolute.

 

[Nir Si]

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Tag: 0-7 James 'Slinger' Antilles​

Setting up a nuke was definitely not Nir's forte.

Nor was sitting in wait for an arrival. He couldn't help but sit and play his guitar while they waited. Hyperspace travel was where he wrote his best songs, but this wasn't one he was writing about his adventures. Right now, he was missing his bass player, and girlfriend.

Being a jedi meant he was out on missions like this for long stretches. When he wasn't on tour, he was doing it solo.

Usually, at least. This was the first time he'd been with a rebel crew.

And yet, he looked unarmed. Looked it, at least. He always walked around unarmed, save for his guitar.