Had Abad day [Corellia Confederation Dominion of Had Abaddon]

[Sienna Vekarr]

The space around Had Abaddon was still, a forgotten place in time. It was hidden away in the Deep Core, one of the most difficult places to navigate and an excellent place for clandestine operations such as this. She had been sent to this location along with the Halcyon Commander Bastra and the first Fireteam to be transferred to the Starchild specifically because this location was so difficult to reach.

[SIZE=11pt]Why then was there Jedi on this ship? [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Her eyes fell on the young Jedi padawan observing the ship. He and his Master were both on board, though she had no idea where she was. They could be a problem. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The Halcyon Program was in its infancy still and the price they paid, the souls they sacrificed to Chaos could never come to light. Months of endless hunting had brought Corellian Naval Intelligence to the conclusion that the CIC held three of these souls and were willing to extradite them. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]She looked to the datapad she held in her hands as dossiers of the three death row Halcyon washouts scrolled across. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Max, just Max. Serial killer from Treasure Ship Row. His face made her stomach turn. Now he looked more like a failing Gen’dai than a human, patchwork cybernetics keeping him together. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]T’Soni Kanchara was a female Devaronian, at least her bio stated as such. Her hair had long since fallen out and the enhanced tissue growth from early test of the Halcyon Program had caused her to grow horns and she’d grown to the size of a wookie. Piracy, murder, theft of CorSec property. Her rep list was the longest of all of them.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]And finally, the rigmaster. Dual Mon’kata. Human male. and one of the only early test subjects to not exhibit any negative effects from the process. He was an enigma. His rep sheet was classified, even to her. What she did know from indienedent research was that it was likely that he was ex-CorSec intelligence from before the Confederation reinstated its Defense Force.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]All of them were Force [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]Sensitive[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]. These three, likely from Mon’kata’s own plans, had managed to take over and kill everyone on board the transport that was seeing them to asset liquidation. News outlets said they were terrorist escapees from a max security prison and luckily the CIC had found them on Coruscant and were willing to extradite them to Corellia. Once CNI caught wind of this she along with her fireteam were placed on the Starchild and ordered to bring them back. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]But then the Jedi came. Something to do with the world having artifacts or something. The fact they had gotten wind of this too worried her. Were they walking into a trap?[/SIZE]

Welcome to the Corellian Confederation's first Dominion! Have fun, and break stuff! Also thank you our CIC guests. The goal is to get these troublesome three prisoners to safety. But they might have an inside source, so be ready for anything.

Context:

• The three prisoners as far as anyone outside of Sienna knows are just terrorists.
• Location Tags are key! Please tag your location and people in your location! Or everyone if its something big enough!
• Some Location art done by the wonderful Dizzy!
  Spoiler

  

  

  

 

[Jerec Asyr]

The Starchild, a five-klick battlecruiser, had the largest hangar of Jerec's middlingly-long life experience. Entire light cruisers, plural; wings and wings of starfighters he'd never seen; enough space for his ship and plenty more. He eyed the Corellian starfighters and support craft with a shipwright's eye. The Confederation had its share of good materiel. Gallofree Transports had a bead on the LFPs for the next generation, and certain...unexamined niches in the current lineup. (One of those top-secret stealth ships was in a side bay, unbeknownst to anyone without a need to know.) For the moment, he didn't have much to do other than evaluating the last-gen U-Wings in case Gallofree Transports had something comparable-plus-one in the pipeline. The Galactic Alliance Incom boats were good, battle-tested spaceframes, but Incom wasn't what it used to be. Service and spare parts had to be a challenge; the Alliance was dead and gone, had been for ages.

And that was a shame. The Incom U-Wings were nice. They didn't deserve a long decade of obsolescence and replacement. But the job was the job.

 

[Hansen]

Captain Lynda Dorn
HMIS "Monarch" Imperial V-Class Star Destroyer
Imperial Confederated Systems Army Reserve
1 Commando Advanced Reconnaissance Regiment
Tags: [member="Jerec Asyr"], [member="Sienna Vekarr"], [member="Dracken Pryce"]

Within the black empty void of deep space the dagger-shaped form of a Warship cleaved through a gaseous Nebula into the Had Abaddon System, it was for hundreds of years thought lost mythical even but those days had long faded into history that time unreliably recorded. If Galactic History had been recorded with meticulous accuracy and consistent reliability perhaps the Imperial Confederated Systems would not venerate a man like Sheev Palpatine as their Monarch in-absentia. Lynda ran a gloved hand through her filthy dirt-flecked hair, pulled away from Metellos hastily along with a Platoon of Advanced Reconnaissance Commandos for an assignment Captain Lynda "Malys" Dorn had dismissed based on the briefing as beneath her....

That had been until she'd seen them a collection of droopy slack-jacked criminals most of whom looked barely Human anymore one terrorist in particular caught Lynda's attention, a Human Male with a repulsively muscled physique covered in vulgar tumorous growths. Within the Imperial Star Destroyer 'Monarch' the blonde Captain Dorn breathed a long unnecessary sigh before proceeding to deftly reassemble her peculiarly modified G-11F Blaster Rifle and then slid the pleasant smelling virtually still brand new and unpainted Mark IX/c Katarn Battle Armour helmet over her nape, the bodysuit sealed with a nice snakey hiss signalling the creation of a personalised Atmosphere for its' wearer. "Jaig-Alpha this is Luna-Major, message over." Lynda's lips curl towards her gums, it was a smile to be sure but one you would associate with a Zealot or perhaps Murderer the kind of person who was partial towards dark, sadistic and sarcastic humour.

With a few gestures with Iris across the retinal display. "Ah, the handsome Captain Jon, what can this humble servant of the crown do for you?" Lynda asked and fortunately the Star Destroyer's Officer Commanding did not witness his Junior in rank if not title's mocking theatrical bow. Jon's fair features were weathered hair a mixture of silver and pepper he was blessed with the second renaissance of handsomeness that some men were lucky enough to enjoy although at this present moment they are marred with a scowl leveled towards the significantly younger, overconfident and irritatingly sarcastic woman. "I know we're on a closed-circuit channel within the Destroyer Captain Dorn, but that doesn't mean you can or should disregard the appropriate military comlink security protocols and policies." Lynda childishly made a talking sock with her left-gauntlet and flapped her thumb and other fingers in the imitation of a mouth.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever Cap, Scold me later is it time for us to move the prisoners from their holding cells into constraint field confinement for handover to the Corellians?" Captain Jon was about to blow a gasket until Lynda charmed him with an attractive, charming smile. Dorn had spent most of her military career flaunting the accepted behavioral norms with her antics openly mocking not only her peers on many occasions but also superiors although she complained upon being punished none could deny that she wasn't without redeeming combat qualities. Within the First Order her only qualification for being referred onto Project: Revenant was possessing the right sequences within her DNA, without it Lynda was of undeniably just above average with an extremely blown-out inflated sense of self-worth and confidence.

Jon had to correct the young woman's ego. "You Captain Dorn, will address me appropriately as 'Captain Jon Skold'. My tolerance has its' limits and a price, continue going like this and I'll have half of your base pay forfeited for a period of no more or less than two months." The Monarch's commanding officer glowered sternly, displeausure and controlled fury bubbled just beneath the surface of his skin, Jon's head and eyes were cold as Durasteel and took no pleasure in admonishing the Army Reserve Captain publicly on the bridge from a command throne raised prominently atop Dais. Army Reservists were known to be less disciplined and less professional than full-time Troops but Captain Lynda "Malys" Dorn combined that with a flippant disregard for military policy. Lynda accepted the admonishment glibly in the face of Punishment, satisfied he elected to continue leisurely. "Your Prisoners are being held in stasis constraint fields and transferred to the Hanger within a glasteel confinement cube unit now. We've got a large contact, certainly the Corellian Warship on long-range sensors and I am about to contact them."

The bridge crew, or atleast many among their number had served with Jon since the Galactic Empire led by Tanomas Graf and though they had followed neither Lannis Morcus, Adron Malvern or Tuspin. True enough they would have appeared as Deserters at the time and that description might have been accurate for the Galactic Empire itself had little redeeming political or moral qualities the Imperial Confederated Systems or "Core Imperial Confederation" as it was colloquially referred to was for many core citizens a truly legitimate government rather than some military Junta mockery of a functioning state. Captain Jon Skold had his communications Officer Krenos broadcast a message on the nominated frequency towards the massive Starbird Battlecruiser. "This is His Majesty's Imperial Ship Monarch widecasting on secure communication net to the Corellian Warship Starbird. We've got your package on-board and are en-route on a course for your position, this message will repeat every thirty seconds until you respond." Jon rubbed the hairy stubble growing from their chin after concluding the message. "Set course to catch-up with the Starbird, ahead half gentlemen."

Dutifully the Chief responded immediately. "Ahead-half, aye sir." He then alerted the reactor room and Monarch's three gargantuan license-manufactured KDY Ion Engines burned brighter the monstrous Star Destroyer hummed forward its' running lights illuminating its' brilliant hull to reveal a set of intricate tribal patterns painted in claret red against an off-white hull. Rather more colourful and artistic in its' appearance than classical "Imperial" Warships.

 

[Keiran Berus]

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The Green Jedi had been called.

The planet Had Abbadon had for years been linked to the Jedi Order, rumoured for many years to the birth place of the order itself. The birth place of the Jedi Order was extremely likely to be riddled with amazing treasures from years long forgotten. If there was anything down there, the Green Jedi wanted to get their hands on it before anyone with poor intentions beat them to it. They had personal reasons for dispatching a team, of course, but they wouldn't ever share those.

Keiran looked from the viewport of the transport, running his hand through his hair. He hoped that the Jedi who had been dispatched with him were on their way down to the planet surface. He didn't know how long they had to explore the planet surface. Keiran almost hoped they would be given as much time as they needed, but that was extremely unlikely to occur. That never really occured, the Green Jedi normally had to work around the rest of the Corellian forces.

He didn't know the details of why the Corellians were locating themselves at Had Abbadon, he had heard whisperings like anyone else but no-one had given him the full details. He wasn't in the Corellian Government, he didn't know if he would ever get the full details. He just wanted something more than "go and dig in this location". That pretty much summerised all he had been told and he wasn't sure he was okay with it.

He nodded to the captain of the ship.

He felt at his side, ensuring his lightsaber was present. He wasn't fully sure what would be on the planet surface, thousands of years could attract some nasty creatures that no-one really wanted to play with, especially old Jedi artifacts that may or may not be buried. He hoped that nothing really came up that was too dangerous but he wouldn't have been surprised to be wrong. He was used to being wrong in this situation.

 

[Seto Du Couteau]

Seto Du Couteau
Location: HMIS "Monarch" Imperial V-Class Star Destroyer
Objective: Assure the Prisoner Transfer goes accordingly
Actions: Approach the Transfer Point at the Hanger
Tags: @Jerec Asyr , [member="Sienna Vekarr"] , [member="Dracken Pryce"] , [member="Lynda Dorn"] , [member="Keiran Berus"]
Attire

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The Commissar wondered of the repercussion should the three criminals they had promised to the Corellia Confederation perish before they completed this prisoner transfer organized by the Core Imperial and with Corellia. ​Rather we be delivering carbonite heads than living criminals. Seto was of the opinion that allowing such dangerous beings any further seconds of breathe was a mistake when they held the ability to end it all at once.

Another clear example of beings that possessed the ability to wield the Force, and either through circumstances of their lives or some other equally terrible or contrite event, had turned these beings into nothing but terrorists and danger to the citizens of the Core worlds.

Perhaps this was the reason of his position and title, Seto had never been one to be quick to anger nor one to act outside the rules set before him by his superiors. Even with his earlier thoughts of just putting an end to the three prisoners at that very moment, Seto only relaxed back into his chair. Or perhaps no one else wanted the position. It was not the most thankful of jobs, dealing with other Force Users who believed to be untouchable.

Though Seto had to admit, it did bring a small smile to see such arrogance crushed beneath the Order of the Core Imperial Confederacy and the Commissariat. The small things in life are important to cherish.

Seto's datapad whirled to life, his notification that the prisoners were being moved and being prepared within the hanger to await the transfer with the Corellians. With a click of his tongue to the top of his mouth, he emerged out of his office and made his way down to the hanger. While once the prisoners were transferred to the Corellians, Seto would only rest easier once he heard of the execution of said prisoners.

Or if the Corellian People would be kind as to allow me the honor of severing their heads personally. Seto despised scum that only dreamt of causing as much mayhem as possible, but Force Users acting in the same vein? Seto reserved a speical form of resentment for such degenerates. Too long people have suffered at the hands of those who happened to possess the Force, but now with the Core Confederacy, Seto only dreamed of the day to finally remove the stained torn page of the Core's history and turn it to a better and brighter page.

And putting these three down will be one of the many steps already taken to turn the page.

 

[Kyle Torchwood]

w. [member="Elsie Perris"]​

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His master was nowhere to be found. She was likely off with her husband considering they did not get to see each other often. Kyle was old enough to exactly what was going on, but he didn't care. The ship's CO had invited him to see the bridge of the massive ship, and of course he was not going to turn that opportunity down. The aspiring Jedi Ace loved space travel, and he loved ships of any kind. Had he not proven to be force sensitive he was going to follow after his father and be a pilot for some rebel cause. Instead Kyle found himself with the Green Jedi hoping to make a difference in the world through that route. It didn't help matters that his father had never been a good caretaker. From the moment his mother had passed, Kyle had known he was not truly wanted by his father. Ric Ardellian never knew about the child until the day he showed up at the barracks to meet the man.

It wasn't that way for Elsie. She had her family, it was stable and intact. Kyle often mused to himself that it would have been good for him to have been raised in a loving home like that, but the time he spent around the Perris' as a boy had been enough that he had curbed some his more paternal impulses. Speaking of Elsie, when the invitation had come to Kyle, Elsie had been with him in the commissary. They had been slurping down something fizzy and sugary when the CO walked up to him. Naturally he invited Elsie to go with him, wondering where Andrik and his master were going to be in all of this. The prisoner exchange was a pretty big deal, and right now Kyle and Elsie had a front row seat on the ships approach. Kyle was a bit nervous about what could possibly go down, there were stories of botched exchanges before. He hoped this was not going to be one of them.

"Isn't this neat," he said leaning over to Elsie and whispering. "I've never been on the bridge before. Usually the command staff only and whatever Jedi master is in charge. That's never my master, even for a Corellian she is too impulsive, or so they say."

It was true. Kyle's master was a wild card, a lot like Elsie seemed to be these days. Kyle still liked them both, and for that exact reason. Naturally there was something else going on between him and his best friend's sister, but both were oblivious to what it was, and honestly it was weird. Kyle compensated by coming off a bit too strong sometimes, but at least Elsie hadn't distanced herself from him, yet.

"Where are you supposed to be when this whole thing goes down?"

 

[Krek Libera]

Get on with it.​

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Objectives: Patrol​

Tags: None, feel free to join​

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Krek was beginning to get tired of all this wandering the halls of vast starships. Not too long ago he'd been assigned to the Emerald Flight -- boring. And now this. Jackal Company was being paid well, of course. A good contract with the Corellians was quite beneficial. But Krek preferred being paid in the rush of battle. He was a mercenary so he could prove his strength.

Then again, he did have other things to fight for -- most notably a round, scaly object stored in Krek's large backpack. He brought it everywhere he went. Perhaps this was not the best place to have it, with these dangerous criminals soon to arrive, but the young should learn of violence quickly.

The massive soldier ran his leathery red fingers across the black blaster rifle he held in two of his hands, the other two holding his weapon-filled belt. Soon he arrived at the hangar, where he assumed the prisoners would arrive -- part of him hoped they would escape. For now, though, he would content himself with patrolling the vast hangar of the colony ship, wondering why all other beings insisted on being so small.

 

[Orson Jade]

Location: Hanger
Objective: Receive Prisoner shipment
Gear: Halcyon Armor, 2x VT-particle SMGs, Coynite Carbine, 3x Tehk'la blades
Tags: [member="Seto Du Couteau"], [member="Krek Libera"], [member="Jerec Asyr"], [member="Lynda Dorn"], [member="Sienna Vekarr"]

Sitting on the deck of The Starchild, Orson toyed with the standard issue combat knife that had been provided to the Halycon’s. The blades tip rested on the armored index finger of the Corellian, perfectly balanced. Head cocking, Orson flexed his finger. The simple movement carried enough strength to send the knife arcing through the air. Each twirl seemed to take ages, the descent of the weapon slower than it should be. At least that's the way Orson saw it. The commando wondered if he’d ever get used to the new body that the Halcyon program had provided him.

When they came to the Corellian and asked if he was willing to lay down his life for his planet Orson had jumped at the chance. He’d been but a boy when he had joined the Corellian defense force, having faked credentials to get them to allow him in. By the time they’d figured it out the boy Orson was had become a man hardened by the realities of battle, by the loss of comrades. At that point there was no reason to withdraw the youth as he was over the legal age.

Without even looking, Orson’s hand shot out as quick as a Gamorrean sand viper snatching the blade out of the air and sheathing it on the small of his back. The blonde man reached down grabbing the helmet that sat at his side and dawned it. In an instant, the HUD came to life, various bits of information rolling across his vision. A message coming in reporting that the exchange would soon be taking place. Bout time. The boredom was killing the soldier.

Rising to his full height Orson towered over many within the hanger. Even outside the armor Orson stood well over 2 meters tall, that figure made more domineering and threatening by the Halycon armor. The thought of the terrorists being returned to Corellian hands brought a ghost of a smile to the blonde man. Traitors to Corellia deserved to be dealt with by their own kind. Ensuring his weaponry was secure in their magnetic clasps he moved to the designated area.

 

[Dracken Pryce]

[member="Orson Jade"] [member="Krek Libera"] [member="Jerec Asyr"] [member="Lynda Dorn"] [member="Ava Cartwright"]

Admiral Pryce didn't much like being the personal taxi service for Corellian Naval Intelligence. Something about their agents always...Rubbed him the wrong way, even back when they were just part of CorSec Intelligence and Colonel Vekar wasn't an exception. Her pale skin and icy glare just...It reminded him of what a First Order or Sith naval officer would be like if he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting one in the flesh. Regardless, here he was aboard the CDF Starchild II, ferrying her and her Halcyon Commandos around doing a prisoner pick up and exchange with the CIC.

The CIC. Of all people why did they have to do anything with them? He supposed it had something to do with establishing good will, but he doubted High Command was stupid enough to think the CIC wouldn't set its greedy Imperial eyes on Corellia soon enough. His nostrils flared in agitation as her gaze flicked in his direction for a moment. The Jedi on board made him feel a lot more comfortable. At least them he knew he could trust.

"Sir, we've detected a CIC vessel entering the system nearby. Its begun hailing us."

"Push the message through," he said, standing at the large command table. As the message played he gave Garvey a concerned look. The Corellian VI shrugged and crossed its arms.

"Maybe they read the transponder wrong?" That brought a smile to Drack's face before he pressed his thumb against a com button to reply. He stepped back and was scanned by the holorecorder before Rail gave him the thumbs up from the holotable.

"This is Admiral Pryce of the CDF Starchild II. We have received your message and will begin preparations to receive the prisoners immediately." After the message was sent he looked over to a com officer and waved to get her attention. He much preferred this style of bridge to the trenches of the Resurgent he briefly served on. Things were much more personable, even if the large bridge could get chaotic in battle.

"Get me an all ship channel." She nodded and patched him in. "This is Admiral Pryce, First Halcyon Fireteam meet with Colonel Vekarr on Hangar Deck 5 to receive the prisoners. CIC will be here in ten" Before he could even finish his announcement Vekarr was already at the lift. When the lift doors closed behind her he felt as if a brick had been lifted off his chest and he heaved a sigh of relief.

"You like her that much?" Quipped Garvey, "I mean she's pretty but don't you think you're gonna make Commander Cartwright jealous looking at Vekarr like that?"

"Its Colonel Vekarr and you shut your mouth before I have engineer Adams pull out your power core."

 

[Myri Bastra]

Location: Hangar of CDF Starchild II
Objective: Receive and secure transferred prisoners

Gear: Halcyon Armour | VAARS

Tagging: [member="Orson Jade"] | [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Jerec Asyr"] |

If there was one thing the military had taught Myri in her years of service, it was hurry up and wait was the norm for any military operation. Long periods of waiting, punctuated by a short moment of terror and activity before you went back to waiting. It was less true for the Navy personnel who bustled around the hangar, even if they had nothing urgent to do, their NCOs could always find some kind of busy work to keep them out of trouble. A single brown eye flicked over the group of armoured troops surrounding her, the same ability to set them scut work just didn't really seem to apply to the special operations team...so they just sat there.

The woman suppressed a sigh, leaning back against a wall as she blinked her eyes, calling up an image of the approaching ship, a live feed from the sensors that seemed to float in the air in front of her. This was something she was still having a hard time getting used to, the sheer level of connection to the world around her her implants afforded, especially while she was secured in her armour. Two of her fingers started playing an idle beat on her thigh as she watched the ship closing as she reviewed what she knew about hte prisoners who were due to be transferred. all augmented force users. She'd hope the transfer would go off without a hitch, but then it seemed like nothing about these three ever seemed to go without a hitch. If CNI command had thought that it would be easy then they wouldn't have orderd her fire team to deploy for this now would they? Their bosses tended to play things close to the chest, but there were a few things you could always figure out from the missions that you were sent on. A flicker of motion out of the corner of her eye caught the woman's attention as Orson surged forward towards the front of the hangar. It was like they were attached by an invisible rope, without thinking Myri was on her feet, rifle in one hand, her other lifting her helmet towards her face, settling it in place with a snap hiss as her HUD flared to life. "Well, t-minus 5. Stay frosty, if these three don't try something then the first round's on me when we get them secured away." It was a suckers bet, she just knew that one of them would try something, they just needed to spot what it would be before hand.

 

[Amz]

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Elsabetta had been rather surprised when she had been allowed to accompany Kyle to see the bridge of the ship. She wasn’t a Jedi, and she was only barely dipping her toe into the junior officers program. The opportunity was one she couldn’t pass up. The mere thought left her feeling awe-struck, in a similar way to what she’d felt the first time she saw the landscape of Corellia, after being away from it for so long. It was a tug on her soul, and she wondered if that was what her Grandfather was always going on about when he talked with pride of it being in ‘the Perris blood’. Maybe it was true. Leading a military life was thick on both sides of her family, maybe they really were just predisposed for it.

Of course it helped that she was raised in it, that she’d been taught how to pilot a ship and shoot a blaster from her earliest memory. There was no lack of resources available to her, and she had a family that was all-in-all, whole. Despite the last five years and what had happened. She knew she was a lucky kid by most standards.

“Yeah, it’s amazing,” Elsabetta agreed, giving a nod of her chin. “Maybe that’s why they asked her along. I mean, look at ‘em. Everyone’s so stiff.”

She turned to look at Kyle and shrugged her shoulders, “I was told to wait for instruction.” in other words, she was admitting that she should have stayed put, but she was horrible when it came to having patience for anything. And if something did go down, she wasn’t about to sit back while her brother and Kyle did the work. Even if they were both more experienced than her. “Fat chance we’ll see anything exciting happen, anyway.”

Prisoner transfers seemed like a straightforward affair, and they had Jedi on board.

Fearless teenage confidence in adults and herself? Probably.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________​

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[member="Kyle Torchwood"]​

 

[Ava Cartwright-Pryce]

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Location: Maintenance bay in the hangar of the CDF Starchild II
Status: Tinkering on her T-90 X-wing w/the help of R9-M7 "Squeak" during squadron downtime
Gear: Flight suit, pilot sidearm, tools
[member="Sienna Vekarr"] | [member="Jerec Asyr"] | [member="Krek Libera"] | [member="Orson Jade"] | [member="Seto Du Couteau"]
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A series of snarky beeps finally got Wildcat Leader's attention... and not in a good way either.

"I should be what? Yeah, right?!"

Goldie slid back the face shield on the welder's helmet worn after turning off the arc welder in her hands. The Commander next stepped out from under the portside, orange and black-painted closed strike-foil and just glared up at her marine blue astromech droid where he sat in his socket behind the cockpit all smug-like.

"I don't know where or whom you're getting this from, but I am not, repeat not jealous, nor am I worried either," Ava huffed back with a look etched in her steel blue eyes that the R9 unit better not push his luck as his memory wipe was due.

Squeak made a whirling sound as if he was smirking at his pilot's response. Garvey just might be on to something. He would have to pump the Corellian VI a bit more for info. What?! Droids gossiped just like their human counterparts.

"What! I'm not for Force sake. Gah... Just because Colonel Vekarr is on the prettier side for a spook and draws the Admiral's awe it seems doesn't make her a threat, buddy," the Ralltiiri countered pointedly, though was that line of explanation more for Squeak's benefit or hers... The only thing that woman had over Ava was rank from her point of view. Any ways, [member="Dracken Pryce"] and her were just fine. In fact, never better... at least it appeared that way from the couple's time spent together earlier.

Another series of beeps made Goldilocks just roll her eyes in frustration. What did the dome head mean by 'the lady doth protest too much'? The gull of that droid?!

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... Whatever. I'm going back to work now. You should try it sometime," she retorted with a dismissive wave of her gloved hand before the face shield on her welder's helmet was snapped down effectively ending their conversation as the blonde stepped back under the S-foil to finish the task at hand.

"Okay, maybe I am a little jealous...Tall, dark, and handsome Corellians are hard to resist, duh?! I mean, who wouldn't want to get in my navyboy's pants? The thing is though, they just better not try," Goldie mused while igniting the arc welder once again with a fervor and a smirk dancing on her hidden lips.

 

[Krek Libera]

These ones are less small.​

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Tags: [member="Orson Jade"] [member="Myri Bastra"]​

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Krek had always been attracted to strength -- his primal instincts and behaviour respected power. Twon Ketee were a simple people, so it was no surprise that Krek was respected among his peers. Wandering the galaxy on his own had left him a profound emptiness, as he had no one to respect. Every opponent he'd met on the battlefield tended to be small, insignificant, weak. Same with most of those he fought alongside. Funny how some compared him to an insect, when he was the one crushing them like bugs...

So it was no wonder the two Halcyon commandos caught his eye from across the vast hangar. The massive mercenary strode across, his heavy metal legs crunching against the ground with each step. He was easy to find aboard the Starchild -- he stood out wherever he went, easily a head and shoulders taller than the Halcyon commandos. Finally he stopped beside them, his small head craning over to study them.

"You are larger than the others," he finally concluded after studying the pair. It was apparent that this grey-armored beast was a little... slow, to say the least. Still, the red 'eye' at the centre of his head continued to flicker as it scanned the armored figures. "Why is that?" He had always pondered why humans insisted on fighting -- they were not suited to such duties. The Twon Ketee were far superior in such regards. Perhaps they needed help to become larger. If Krek were not Twon Ketee, he would wish he was. He could only assume humans were the same.

 

[Hansen]

Captain Lynda Dorn
HMIS "Monarch" Imperial V-Class Star Destroyer
Imperial Confederated Systems Army Reserve
1 Commando Advanced Reconnaissance Regiment
Tags: [member="Ava Cartwright"], [member="Dracken Pryce"], [member="Elsie Perris"], [member="Jerec Asyr"], [member="Keiran Berus"], [member="Krek Libera"], [member="Kyle Torchwood"], [member="Myri Bastra"], [member="Sienna Vekarr"], [member="Orson Jade"].
Nearby: [member="Seto Du Couteau"]

Captain Jon Skold listened to the Corellian Admiral's Message with their fingers confidently steepled even as the Battlecruiser called Starchild grew larger as the Monarch drew closer towards its' hull. It was a strange thing to be aboard an Imperial Star Destroyer and made to feel dwarfed or small. Though he was proud, Jon could also acknowledge a beautiful example of architecture and engineering and gave an approving nod rubbing his goatee beard again. "Starchild." Jon began respectfully, the Corellians warship had earned a level of professional admiration for its' construction, Captain Skold found its' burning engine units to be oddly captivating. "This is the Monarch, we are presently en-route on bearing zero-one-zero and will be pulling up alongside on your port-side." He paused to take a drink from a warm aromatic blend of coffee sitting on the arm of his command throne in a white featureless ceramic mug.

"Shall we transferring the Prisoners via boarding umbilical or boat-launch?" 'Boat-Launch' was rather impersonal sending a shuttle at such an insignificant distance would be superfluous given that the Monarch and Starchild would be a scant one-hundred meters away from each other in about ninety seconds. "The security team has been preparing to deliver them via umbilical." Jon's voice intoned as a courteous warning so as to inform the Corellian Admiral that his subordinates had been preparing for the former. "Though we could easily transfer them via shuttle." Transferring them via shuttle would not necessitate both ships to lower their particle shields but also was symbolic of a higher level of co-operation, trust and goodwill. Jon was pleased wordlessly with the Imperial Confederated Systems' attempts to engage in statecraft and respectable diplomacy with other governments, even if this assignment from Naval Headquarters meant he had to come into contact with some of the more aggressive or foreboding personnel such as Captain Dorn and Commissar Couteau who Jon found to be decidedly unpleasant for he thought both of them to be characterized by staggering arrogance.

Lynda examined the glasteel cube containing the three individuals from behind her turquoise glowing visor, morbid curiosity drove her to stare with a pair of icy blue eyes. "'Max'" She read the name from her hololithic display upon Helmet-Mounted Display, even despite the revolting tumorous growths that grew from his staggeringly large and robust figure Lynda could still identify the all-too familiar features of a Man even aggressive and ruthless as she was Lynda couldn't help but experience some level of pity for Max. As callous and malicious she tried to present herself Lynda still possessed a level of Sympathy for the Broken and destitute, Max certainly stood among the broken. Kanchara was the next among those criminals locked within the motionless stasis, she possessed the ubiquitous red-skin of a Devaronian with jagged horns growing from her skull like ruined ominous spires. Lynda's train of thought was broken by a brief message from Captain Skold. "Surge, prepare us a Banshee Dropship just in-case we're going to transfer this lot via shuttle." 'Surge' an Advanced Reconnaissance Commando and a clone subordinated to Captain Dorn nodded his helmeteted head in silence, pivoting in his boots towards a 'Banshee' dropship its' ion engines inert and cargo ramp set upon the ventral hanger's floor.

She didn't like clones, but Lynda had to acknowledge their skill quietly if not openly. Surge as one of the four commando brick was loyal to his superiors whether they be Non-Commissioned Officers or Officers, Clone or Otherwise. "What do you think about the Prisoners, Surge?" Ratchet's voice crackled inside Surge's helmet, examining the Banshee's controls, Surge in his unpainted silvery armour dropped down into its' pilot seat and began performing a series of pre-flight check. Although he was not used as a Pilot by Special Operations Command, as an ARC Trooper and better yet a Clone he was proficient at operating all manner of vehicles and personal weapons.

"They're freaks Ratch, I don't understand how Captain Dorn can stare at em' for so long." Ratchet's lips curl inwardly towards his gums thoughtful and for an uncomfortable long moment started towards the noticeably taller Lynda Dorn who continued staring from behind her Helmet at the trio of criminals locked within a Glasteel isolation cube, frozen in their individual stasis fields He turned away from the grisly scene the rattle through floor signalling the Monarch's deceleration as it pulled up alongside the Starchild. "The Captain isn't any less green than us, got a stronger stomach though. We shouldn't be talking about our Company Commander like this, I'm switching back over to our TEAMCOM" And so Ratchet did and caught a glimpse of Commissar Du Couteau marching towards the ARC Trooper team wearing a stylish heavy leather coat over a pristine Imperial Security Bureau uniform.

 

[Sienna Vekarr]

Armor || Blaster​

Tags: [member="Lynda Dorn"] [member="Krek Libera"] [member="Ava Cartwright"] [member="Myri Bastra"] [member="Orson Jade"] [member="Jahan Lionheart"]​

​

The lift finally opened and she was in the Hangar. She had just been getting used to the long travel times on the Resurgent when the First Order fell and now being moved to this 5km behemoth she sometimes wished she could be stationed on a small corvette if only so she didn't spend so much time in lifts and tubes. Her cold eyes scanned the hangar deck and even though she couldn't see the whole deck she had a feeling the Halcyon team would be here...If they weren't well. She could leave their punishment up to Halcyon Bastra.

As she walked through the massive hangar bay she felt a rather angry gaze fall on her. She found it almost immediately, or at least the direction it was coming from. A group of X-wing pilots were glaring at her, though she didn't really know why. Her past was classified and so very few people on board the Starchild knew she was Ex-First Order. Not even Halcyon Bastra had access to that information. She gave she returned the glare and continued on her way until she spotted the large four armed Twon Ketee mercenary standing around the Halcyon Fireteam.

"It's because," she started as she walked into the group, the shortest one of them all, "They are Halcyon," she said with a nod to Bastra.

"Halcyon Bastra, what is the status of your fireteam. We cannot make any mistakes here." she said curtly. "They should be here soon."

 

[Kyle Torchwood]

​

w. [member="Elsie Perris"]​

​

“Wait for instructions?” Kyle looked over to Eslie with a quizzical look. He knew exactly what that meant. “Stay put and don’t get into trouble is more like it.”

Nothing exciting was going to happen on the bridge, and the clue was when the CO left. If things were going to go down, and if the CO was responsible to ensure everything went smoothly then they were in the wrong place. It was odd that Jedi were accompanying a routine prisoner transfer, but Kyle didn’t think much of it. Their skill with the force could come in handy if things went sideways, but that wasn’t likely to happen. As far as Kyle was concerned this was going to be a boring expedition. At least they got to see the ship.

His eyes caught the security monitors and noticed the number of people assembling in the hangar. Pilots were getting ready to escort the prison shuttle, and Kyle got a bright idea.

“So remember that time I slept over a few years, and you, me, and Rik, decided we were going to sneak out of the house and rest our super sneaky stealth skills? What do you say we try that again?”

Kyle nudged Elsie and pointed to the monitor where everyone was gathering just in time for them to see [member="Sienna Vekarr"] walk through the lift doors.

“How much you wanna bet that’s where all the fun is?”

 

[Jahan Lionheart]

​

Location: Hangar
Objective: Prisoner shipment transfer. Stand guard and over see its completion.
Equipment: Armor(Modified appearance), LK Sweeper, Honor Cleaver, Vermins Demise
Tags: [member="Sienna Vekarr"] [member="Krek Libera"] [member="Ava Cartwright"] [member="Myri Bastra"] [member="Orson Jade"] [member="Jerec Asyr"]

Patrolling area Hangar one last time was a rather unlikely sight. A Cathar. Clad in modified Halcyon armor, He could not fit into a standard version of the armor. Helmet under his left arm and a slinged LK Sweeper on his right barrel aimed down. His name was Jahan and he was the Cathar to be allowed to join the program after signing up, a small detail the now massive feline alien could no longer remember. In fact his memories were gone, Jahan did not know who he was. He knew only that he was serving Corellia within the Halcyon commando units and his own name. Jahan. Rumor had it he was once a known bounty hunter within some systems of space and a mandalorian at that. The only things that remained of that dream were several items he owned. A sidearm pistol and a Cathar honor blade by the looks. Both weapons he kept after his recruitment into the Halcyon program, whether or not he was allowed to have them was something entirely different. They were not the standard issue weapons that every other soldier wielded.

Despite this the hulking Cathar doubted his superiors questioned his loyalty. Throughout training he had shown not only feats of incredible enhanced strength, speed and agility but also an increase or enhancement of beliefs. As if the Halcyon process somehow heightened what was his already high set morals and views. Some viewed him as a "boy scout" others saw a perfect soldier, which was far from true. Every soldier had their demons and Jahans just could not remember what his looked like.

"Well, t-minus 5. Stay frosty, if these three don't try something then the first round's on me when we get them secured away." A familiar voice came to hear from across and around a corner of the hangar.

Falling in next to Myri Bastra and Orson Jade, Jahan glanced briefly at them and nodded. A small part of him felt set apart from the rest of his brothers in arms. He was not the tallest in stature but he was the biggest in muscle density and size. The feeling was insignificant but acknowledged. His furred mane was braided to better fit it into his helmet and the helmet itself was larger than standard issue. A gentle golden gaze looked up at the large quad limbs alien nearby. Before placing the Helmet over his lion like head and seeing the span of the HUD entomb his vision and augmenting his reality, the Cathar beamed at the creature looking down in question at his unit. Next came a warm smile.

" Sudta tahyk. Tras tak k'rus." he spoke in Catharese and then paused switching to basic. " Just cause. A just cause."

((OOC Translation: "Just cause. That is the reason."))

 

[Seto Du Couteau]

Seto Du Couteau
Location: HMIS "Monarch" Imperial V-Class Star Destroyer
Objective: Assure the Prisoner Transfer goes accordingly
Actions: Approach the Transfer Point at the Hanger
Tags: @Jerec Asyr , [member="Sienna Vekarr"] , [member="Dracken Pryce"] , [member="Lynda Dorn"] , [member="Keiran Berus"]
Attire

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The Force sang to Seto, music that only could be felt rather than heard, months of mediation and practice to perfectly tell the difference between notes from their chords when strung together. Further, much further detail that Seto absolutely wished to never listen ever again, but much like the ringing of ears that many of soldier suffer, it could never be removed nor ridden away with healing or deafness. It stained the mind as much as any sin committed stains the soul of a being.

Unfortunately, the torturous melody of the three prisoners continued to pound against Seto's inner calm. Ever more the Force felt exasperated, even when he focused on the steady calmness of the Troopers station near the prisoners. Even in stasis. Seto kept his poker face, regardless of how easily it would had been to give in and grow an ever angrier frown. But as much as his ability to use the Force required discipline, he too needed to demonstrate discipline to keep his appearance of calm and assurance.

They were soon to deal with agents and members of another government, while not foreign or alien the world of Corellia, Seto reminded himself he was not dealing with the New Republic. ​Rest in your deep sleep Republic, and let others blossom your remains, as the leaves of trees fall to the ground to provide nutrients and make room for fresh new buds to grow on the branches left behind.

Seto inwardly flinched as he approached the glasteel containing the prisoners, the Captain, Captain Dorn stood nearby. He though only offered a quick nod before stepping away from the melody he felt from the Force when near their prisoners. The screeches that permuted the Force around Seto, turned to a caterwaul of mixed frustrations and emotions the swirled, ready to explode and demand for all to hear their cry.

"I pray that these Corellians are ready for them." Seto mused to himself.

And that should they fail to contain them, may they never come within a single parsec of the Inner Core.

 

[Samantha Solo]

​

Objective: Have a drink


There were times she felt alone and then there were times she just wanted to be alone. The trip with Dells (@delila castillion ) had reinforced her relationship with her ex sister-in-law. It was their way of keeping family really. Dee seemed to understand that her brothers didn't understand her or what she had been through. Dee had been through a lot she related.

[member="Hawk Solo"] and [member="Brad Solo"] had disappeared from the galaxy, she didn't know why if she had been younger she would think that something she did drove them off. But in this galaxy there could be any reason. But the reality was that with her parents gone, with her brothers gone. She was alone.

Coming into the commissary she looked like anyone else, pants, boots, shirt, jacket and her corsec spec ops id hidden within the folds of her jacket. On her hip however the blaster that would only serve as a warning for a few minutes. Everyone had a blaster.

She tried to smile but found her heart wasn't into it today. Even Greg was AWOL.

She stood still just a few steps from her destination.

Her comm was going off and she needed privacy to listen to it. She moved off to a part of the commissary that afforded some quiet.

Message reads: Spies are everywhere. Someone might try sabotaging the ship, or the exchange....check it out.

So much for the drink. But she was in the perfect place to begin asking around. Sam pasted the smile on and headed to get her drink, "What cha got that don't burn on the way down?" She wasn't sure what role she needed to play to get what she needed so she'd start with her worldly persona and go from there.

 

[Orson Jade]

Location: Hanger
Objective: Receive Prisoner shipment
Gear: Halcyon Armor, 2x VT-particle SMGs, Coynite Carbine, 3x Tehk'la blades
Tags: [member="Seto Du Couteau"], [member="Krek Libera"], [member="Jerec Asyr"], [member="Lynda Dorn"], [member="Sienna Vekarr"], [member="Jahan Lionheart"]


Openly chuckling over the coms Orson knew well enough that things would go sideways, when was the last time a mission had gone exactly to plan for any of the Halycons? Were they effective? Yes. Would they get a mission done once set before them? Of course. That didn’t mean they weren’t used to most not going pear-shaped some time during the operation. “How about instead of the first round you take care of dinner and the first two rounds. Jahan is a big boy.”

No sooner than Orson had finished speaking Jahan rounded the corner falling in line with them. Orson was the rookie of the group, easily the lowest ranked and the least experienced but the soldier felt as though he made up with it for being one of the most combative of them, going out of his way many times to prove himself to the others. Jahan and Myra had both already proven themselves showed by their ranks, and while having been from the second generation of Halycon’s Orson had spent much time in recovery from the extensive cybernetics his body at first not taking too well to the cybernetics.

Orson had thought himself one of the tallest in the hanger till the Twon Ketee that seemed a mix of organic and technology approached the large red eye looking over the Halycons. Gold visor rising up to meet the figure’s gaze Orson nodded to Jahan. “As he says, we were chosen for something special. To make a change.” Behind the helmet's visor Orson sized the creature up. They didn’t seem to mean harm, that didn’t mean it didn’t. “If you excuse us, we have a mission to finish.”