Dominion Justice Prevails | GA Dominion of Plexis

[Horcull Thorwel]

Vita Est Iudicium

Bounty hunters were, in a way, law enforcers, but more badass and hardcore. At least that's what all children thought of them when hearing the title and understanding what they are, but romanticizing the idea instead of criticizing such practice. There would be a lot of criticism and romanticism within the halls of the Senate as a proposal, presented by the Senators of Khomm and Odik, was worded in favoring Bounty Hunters and possibly allowing them to operate in Alliance space without having to break the law and be pursued by the authorities. Without a doubt, a Judicial Officer and a Bounty Hunter would break out in a brawl should the former try to arrest the latter which could cause potential collateral damage on property and harm innocent bystanders.

At least that's how Kryo would twist it in his own words to get this Certificate passed.

And perfect timing the Representative from Republic Engineering was the first to speak in these chambers, giving nothing but praises to this Certificate and mincing their words to be cautious at the same time. That would be enough to persuade these Senators, right? Except a majority belonging to the Populist Bloc.

The Senator of Foerost would follow in with his speech to give praises and remarks to this proposal.

"Foerost seeks recognition," and his repulsorpod hovered out before the Senate floor.

"Honorable Senators, while I'm sure some of us have our own opinions on the profession of Bounty Hunting, I must say if there's something a criminal fears, it's the relentless pursuit of a Bounty Hunter. It’s a profession we all fear and respect as these hunters are efficient in their tasks,” and deadly, too. “Regulating and legalizing this profession with this certificate will enhance the security and peace throughout our systems. We only create tensions and hostilities between our dutiful law enforcers and Bounty Hunters should we choose to continue persecute these Bounty Hunters which can create catastrophes in the public. By putting this Certificate in effect we will see more criminals brought forth to Justice for their misdeeds, and Bounty Hunters respecting the system we have built and upheld. Not all Bounty Hunters will, but we can assume a majority will. Of course, as long as this Certificate is strict on those that break our laws and not honor the policies of this document, there should be no harm in allowing legal Bounty Hunters to operate in our space, and we can always revisit to make any amendments to this.”

“I yield the floor.”

Faith Organa | Saga of Valour​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

OBJECTIVE II // PLEXIS // UKNOWN LOCATION //
IMMEDIATE FRIENDS: Ruus
FURTHER FRIENDS: Maynard Treicolt // Zaavik Perl // Kir Dantos
FOES: Maijan Paisea // OPEN​

"They should know those can't contain a Jedi..."

“They can’t.” Loske confirmed tensely, glancing down at the aggressive accessories they all donned. With a quick twitch, flick of her mind, these could be popped off...usually. “They..” she grit her teeth and rolled her one good wrist to get a feel of the rigidity. “Shouldn’t.”

Normally, drugging a Jedi would be an optimistic bet and likely not a good one. By some horrible fortune on the villain’s behalf, they’d managed to do it to the one with a poor metabolism for vices.

Priorities. She had to sort through priorities. She’d meant to contort and manipulate the infrastructure of the doorway, so they could push through it or something, but waiting to get better would delay that. Given the force they’d been met with, Loske rationalized they had hours. Maybe hours. Maybe less. Frustrated with the situation, she rolled her eyes up before screwing them shut with a grimace.

"How much longer?"
"Before you're ready?"

“I uh, give me a minute or two.” Loske murmured, against her better judgment. The estimate was a farce based on optimistic negotiation techniques, but the sector ranger didn’t need to know that. He just needed to know she could be useful again. She had to know that too, get out of here. Division always seemed to be her downfall, and she had to get back to him.

Closing her eyes, the Knight reflected inward. Familiarity with her anatomy came in handy, and she was able to quickly sort and detect the sources of lethargy in her bloodstream. The microscopic version of her influence sorted through these atoms, squishing and reshaping them into something more productive, or at least diluting their chemistry to something far less harmful and dissuading their influence. It took concentration and focus to massage the influence of a nullified state. In the real world, Ruus might see her nostrils flare, a tight grimace, or a brow arch, but any indication beyond that was lost to the subtleties of the ever-mysterious Force. And the elusiveness of being a Jedi.

By the time she pulled out of herself, and back to spacial awareness, she was lightheaded. The hyper-accelerated metabolization of the drugs wasn’t complete, but it was enough to reduce the impact on her performance. Diluted and categorized amidst all the other biological wonder of her blood. She wasn’t sure how much time had actually elapsed through the process, one of the primary weaknesses of remanufacturing yourself to a subatomic level, but she could hear voices outside. Although muffled through the confines of the door, they sounded strained and angry. It was hard to discern how many of them were talking, let alone how many were shuffling around doing stuff. Their presence couldn’t mean anything good, surely.

Feeling pressed for time, Loske looked down at the stun cuffs again and made a gesture. The movement keyed something off, and a ripple of electricity reverberated up her arm and she yawped in surprise, sucking air through her teeth as if it would diffuse the sting. Her good wrist rolled against the restraint, and no more than a thought later, the binds clicked open and fell away.

“C’mere.” Loske murmured, by way of a brief introduction to her next maneuver. Gesturing for Ruus to come nearer would be lost in the dim lighting, probably, and wasn’t worth the pain of moving her broken arm. The good one stretched out, near his hands, and gave a gesture until the binds unclicked.

The sounds of metal hitting the ground drew the attention of the other survivors, who clambered eagerly to the Jedi’s corner, holding their hands out for freedom.

“Why are they here?” Someone hissed, alarm thick in their tone.

“They’re going to open that door and shove us in a carbonite block.”

“They might try.” Loske negotiated, working on the fourth set of stun cuffs. “I can buy us some time once the door’s opened, but you’re all going to have to help. If we want to make it out of here, we can’t have any of them raise an alarm.”

Someone outside was getting louder, more aggressive. Without much warning, the welding that Loske had been looking at earlier slowly started to groan. It seemed to stretch as the door’s seal separated from the floor and up, up, letting light spill into the containment and highlighting the feet, knees, thighs of the collective inside.

The silhouette of the captor was backlit, but the barrel-end of a blaster was unmistakable. It was large, and..one..of theirs? Was that a Sabrewasp?

“Alright, Time tuh get you lot off planet where yer frens can’t track yas,” the voice drawled, it’s accent making the words almost indistinguishable. It was enough for Loske to feel good about though. Their friends were here; which meant any ruckus they made would draw attention that would be bad, yes, but also good.

The shadow of a humanoid pushed the toothpick it was chewing on from one side of its mouth to the other. It’s detail started to fill in while its free hand reached down to yank at Loske’s good arm, and much to his surprise got just that arm. Not...two connected by stun cuffs. “Yer bringin’ too much heat to Plex--hey!” Letting him keep his hold on her arm while she kicked hard at his ankle, at the same time wrenching her elbow upward to knock the arm holding the Sabrewasp and snapping her grip to his wrist, giving it a twist. He yelped, and partly out of shock and partly out of pain, released his hold on the weapon. Swiftly, Loske redirected it in Ruus’ direction.

Black kaleidoscopic blossoms fluttered behind her eyes, the activity reigniting the stinging and burning pain in her arm, almost as if the humerus bone was smouldering. “Karking feth it..” she murmured, blinking to right herself and focus amidst the chaos that was now starting to be their jailbreak. The agony of the physical pain was causing a blind spot, and someone slammed the back of her head face-first into one of the carbonite chambers. Something whined, Tibanna gas tubes, and she yelped, snapping backward not quite quick enough to prevent the cloud of early-carbonite from singing the ends of her hair.

 

[Ruus]

Objective II
Tags: Loske Treicolt

---

Ruus moved closer to Loske as she asked him to. When the cuffs fell off around his wrists he flexed both hands "Thank you." he said with a determined nod. Ruus turned to the other prisoners and then looked over his shoulder as he heard the metal door being lifted and saw light shine through. He quickly hid from view by putting his back up to the wall to the right of doorway. That is when he saw the blaster barrel, but Loske was faster than he, and she disarmed the criminal.

As the sabrewasp careened through the air he caught it by the handle with his right hand and brought it into a firm grip. Without hesitation Ruus blew the criminal away at point-blank range, pivoted stiffly and dispatched his companion with three bolts to the chest. Ruus moved out of the door way and looked to his right then his left.

Somebody grabbed the end of Ruus' blaster with a scaled hand, Ruus felt a great amount of strength rip the blaster from his hands and throw it into the wall before him "Got you now!" a large, green, Trandoshan hissed before kicking Ruus squarely in his chest. The Mandalorian Human skidded along the duracrete on his back. Rolling to his hands and knees, Ruus, pushed himself up and assessed the situation briefly then dashed at the Trandoshan.

"Fool!" jeered the large alien as he swiped a three clawed hand at Ruus' head. Ruus rolled around the arm and grabbed the Trandoshan's thigh with both arms, heaved, and then threw him onto the ground. Ruus lepta onto the repitilian's chest and began to throw his clenched fists four times into the stubby snout "Ga-ah" hissed the Trandoshan at the beating until it grabbed Ruus by the head and threw him off. "Nhm..." Ruus struggled to stand as he saw silver stars flickering across his vision.

Standing the Trandoshan looked towards Loske and the cuffed prisoners and sneered "Ssssooo close." it hissed victoriously "Chakaaryc." sounded a low voice. The Mando'a caught the Trandoshan's attenion as he turned to face Ruus who was now standing although noticeably bleeding from a few claw wounds along the lower jaw where he had been gripped during the throw "A Mandalorian? So far? I thought the Sith wiped you out. No matter my-" Ruus interrupted him "I ch-challenge you to a duel, on your Jagganath. To the death." Ruus cited the Trandoshan's religious custom "Grrh, I accept soft-skin. I will wear your head as a prize!" the Trandoshan rushed Ruus.
((Mood))
Ruus bellowed and charged at the Trandoshan as both met in the middle and Ruus struck the first blow. A strong right jab into the Trandoshan's body as the Trandoshan threw a left hook into the side of his head. Ruus was floored once again as his head smacked into the duracrete. The Trandoshan grabbed Ruus' leg and threw him down the hallway. Ruus felt himself soaring through the air until he hit a pile of crates which broke his fall "Hhha!" the Trandoshan pounced and Ruus rolled off the rubble as the creature tore through the remains. Ruus took his opportunity to kick the the Trandoshan's knee from the side in a horizontal stomping motion.

The Trandoshan roared out in pain and swiped towards Ruus, though Ruus was able to scramble backwards to avoid the claws. He stood as well as he could and with a couple of steps forward kicked at the Trandoshan's head. The impact was less than stellar but it was something "I will not fall!" Ruus screamed in both physical agony, but also something deeper.

The Trandoshan lay on rubble then on crates, Ruus could have sworn he heard the sounds of an explosion behind him. Ruus stumbled away from the Trandoshan who was stunned but beginng to stand. No longer were they fighting in a dimly lit factory corridor on Plexis, but in the blown out shield generator room of Tanaab. "Alor'ad" spoke a familiar but distant voice. Ruus looked behind him, towards the factory wall, but all that was there for the weary former Guard Captain was a Mandalorian Guard "Alor'ad te traat'aliit" Ruus felt strong hands push him forward until he was smashed up against the hallway, torn from the memory Ruus brought his legs up from below himself and then used both of them to kick off the wall.

Ruus and the Trandoshan were flung into the opposite wall back into the rubble pile. Ruus grabbed a vibroblade from the broken pebbles off his comrade's remains and stabbed the steel shard into the Trandoshan's chest several times while yelling angrily "Rrraaak!" the Trandoshan screamed in pain . Ruus continued to stab as blood flung across his clothes and onto his face. Claws ripped into Ruus' back and he felt warm blood spilling onto his skin "Nayc! Nayc! Nayc!" he repeated in rage as he slaughtered the Confederate soldier. Ruus continued to stab the shard of twisted durasteel, from the broken crates, into blood covered chest of the now long since deceased Trandoshan. HIs hands bled profusely and as the shard cut into him almost as much as it did in his victim.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

LOCATION: Strategic Intelligence Agency safe house
OBJECTIVE: BYOO
ALLIES: Open
POST: III

The fact that the SIA was asking follow-up questions arising from his carefully curated tale of service to the Sith and not dragging him toward the near interrogation droid came as a relief to Tithe. While he had gotten little to no blood personally on his hands while with the Empire, many of his actions wouldn’t be viewed positively in the eyes of the Alliance. The sooner they accepted him into the fold and stopped asking about his past, the better.

“Well, after the loses of Mygeeto, Scipio and Muunilinst the SIBC’s financial standing quickly became egregious,” he explained. While the Banking Clan had gone to great efforts to move as many credits and valuable away from the treasury worlds as they could before the NIO invaded, the sheer volume of wealth had made these efforts impossible. Added to this was the symbolic loss - for generations, the three worlds had been the centre of galactic finance, rivalled only by Tithe’s homeward of Aargau. Whoever controlled them controlled the flow of credits throughout the galaxy. Confidence in the Sith’s financial standing had plummeted following the loses.

“The credits were then scattered across the Empire, including a large portion to Bastion…” He left the comment hanging. With the world now in the hands of the New Imperials, it seemed the Sith Empire had been dealt another severe blow.


Special Agent Courte raised the prospect of the Sith coming after Aerarii for his betrayal. The former Moff leaned back in his chair. He’d expected - and accepted - reprisal going into this, hence his willingness to seek asylum amid a mighty galactic power far from the Sith-Imperial border.

But a new identity? He didn’t like the sound of that. Tithe had come to the Galactic Alliance seeking to draw on his prior standing as an expert financier, seeking out contacts and favours from his Arbitage Capital days to help re-establish himself.

But all those credits were no good to him if he was dead. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d operated from the shadows under an alias - as ‘Lord Exchequer’ he’d made substantial investments with the IGBC.

“I’m certain we can come to an arrangement,” he replied. “But as you can understand, I’m, ah, hesitant to divulge too much information given my current situation, the, ah, state of limbo I find myself in.” He gestured around the dingy apartment. “If I had an asylum agreement or pardon, I’d feel much more comfortable working with you and your fine agency.”

 

[Adhira Chandra]

The Senate had been bogged down with quite a bit more business than usual, but Adhira owed that to the fact that their once fledgling nation was now becoming a full-blown force to be reckoned with. Their military was expanding as were their borders, and a treaty with the CIS was on the cusp of ratification, creating a nigh on unsurmountable military alliance in the Core. Today, however, there was a rather unconventional proposal before them as some of their Senate colleagues sought to not only legalize but codify the Bounty Hunters who operated within their borders.​

Consistent enforcement of the law had always been an issue for the sprawling galactic governments that dominated the Core. It was not until the Clone Wars of old that there existed a force large enough to police the entire Republic and while the Galactic Alliance Defense Force was expanding, they were often not permitted to meddle in domestic affairs.​

Adhira swept into the pod that was reserved for Balmorra, where her team of political aides was already going over the proposal and taking notes on the words of other Senators. She consulted with them for a moment before seeking recognition from the Chancellor.​

​

"My honorable colleagues, I rise today to speak on the motion before us, the proposal to codify the existence of the Bounty Hunters Guild - at least partly - within our borders," she began, "I was initially hesitant when I was first informed of this proposal, however, after studying the full details of these regulations and examining the increasing crime rate as our population and our borders expand, I came to appreciate the importance of a well-ordered peacekeeping force.​

"Bounty hunters have long been pariahs in the Alliance and we cannot condone the sort of vigilantism that they deal in, however, whether we allow them to legally operate within our borders or not it is likely that they will continue to do so at the risk of legal repercussions... That is unless we bring them into the fold through licensing and regulation. This proposal will not only make bounty hunting safer, it will make the Alliance safer." ​

​

"Therefore, I feel I must endorse the proposal... Balmorra will vote yes on this bill." Adhira knew that a well regulated industry could ultimately benefit the Alliance, but it was a gamble considering the bounty hunters themselves would have to decide whether to cooperate. ​

Kryo Adab l Faith Organa l Saga of Valour l Van Hill l Carolina Tevinter l Sssar Taszzn l Gat Tambor l Seto Du Couteau l Ce-Pas-Ton l Keldar Saarkis l Reyes Sutherland l Vonar Ardinn l Mina Praji l Emmen Tagge l Fable Solborne l Ordon Trozky l Shute Gunray l Nasser Armstrong l Maou l Julius Loghain l Hinter Staakten l Taega Vrav'lan l Seth Saaliche l Jasol Dorsian l Skawn Kru l Isanne Septum

 

[Arash Garshasp]

Arash Garshasp, Stellar Centurion
Location: City Underworld
Objective Three: UT IN PLATEAS

Spoiler: Equipment

VDS-02 “Bulwark” - Pattern Military Mobility Shield
VCS-01 “Aspis” Pattern Combat Shield
VW-03 Mk II “Apollo” - Pattern Solarized Disruptor Pistol
TTH/TPV-001 “Xiphos” - Pattern Plasmatic Vibrosword
VCP-01 "Hoplon" - Pattern Combat Powersuit

Arash felt himself belittled, in every sense of the word.

But perhaps not in the literal sense.

His power armor allowed him to maintain a decent height among most species in the galaxy. Even if they were taller, I normally could cut them down in size later. Such thoughts were gathering into more impassioned emotions as Arash continued to listen to the complaints and abuses being espoused by a very angry Crime Boss. None of the curses or swears were directed towards the young Thyrsian, but the implications of incompetence were lingering in each word and the voice laced with malice.

The other employed grunts who were the target of this Boss’s ire were rather angry themselves. If not for their failure in securing the cache of weapons, then more so angry at being told how moronic they were, Arash stepped back slightly as he noted another type of emotion in one of the grunts. The table that stood between the Boss and the four other grunts seemed increasingly evident to Arash that it was unsuitable for proper blaster protection.

With the sound a wet sound smack, the Boss’s head was removed from his body as one of the grunts holstered his slugthrower. Arash sighed softly to himself, unamused with the antics but before he made his way out of the building the four grunts, the one who killed his boss stepping as a new leader, called out for Arash.

“Hey-”

“Not interested.” Arash spoke matter of fact to the new Crime Boss. He waved hand to dismiss any further conversation as he walked away and out of the room down the stairs, though his helmet picked up the growing distant shouts of never getting his share of the weapon cache or credits. None of it mattered since they were going to be picked up by local authority with help from a few Galactic Alliance soldiers.

He was only requested and hired to make sure the rowdy criminals were confident enough to even attempt the raid. All in all Arash cared little behind the plotting and planning of this strange criminal take down, but apparently the local police force needed some more realistic training. Arash though was too bored beyond providing the maps to this weapon cache to the criminals in question.

Arash looked at the Cronometer in his helmet and figured that it was a good time to head back to the space-port.
​

 

[Viribus]

Location: Somewhere
Objective: Two
Allies: Maijan Paisea
Foes: Open

How fallen he came...squabbling with criminals and scum. A life he had chosen after being exiled from the Order due to his...pragmatic approach to situations that required a heavy hand and not compassion unlike the Jedi. The role of a warrior and a Jedi wasn’t something that mixed well, in most cases. Plenty of his kind served the Order, but he would not live up to their reputation. They called him short minded, regressive; and what about their teachings? Showing mercy to those that reeked of corruption was not regressive? No wonder lots of scum existed and reaped the Galaxy for their own means.

It would be the undoing of the Jedi.

But not for him.

From warrior to Jedi, and now to being a survivor of the criminal caliber. Lots of it tainted the streets of Plexis, it was the oyster for many criminal syndicates. Who was to stop them? The local government? A complete pushover as even their own officers and agents cowered from the overwhelming numbers of mercenaries and thugs, even stooped low in accepting bribes and other incentives. Many prospered, so long as they were willing to fight and bleed for it.

But now how much would they bleed for it now that the Alliance and the Jedi were here? Enough to make the Alliance think twice of having their people step foot here now that they were besieged.

“Are we opting in on that trafficking operation or not?” a heavy voice reached to Maijan from comms. He was one of her muscles and top-of-the-line goons due to his martial training from Iridonia and the Jedi. Funny how he worked for her when Viribus could easily tear her in half. There was always resentment between scum, not a lot of it to be able to perform as a cell efficiently. They were paid from their employers to dissuade and sabotage the Judicial Forces front on Plexis, and a word of bigger money with a trafficking gig. Supposedly the next shipment was to head out soon, in order to not fall in the hands of the Alliance should everything fall apart.

“Answer now, I hate surprises; otherwise...” a subtle threat to the illusionist. He expected some sort of retaliation in words from the woman. Typical for people of their class. Did he had the right to have this attitude? No, but he made it his own. If she had a problem, she could deal with the horns on his head.

 

[Faith Organa]

Location: The Senate

Faith had come in while the representative from Balmorra Adhira Chandra spoke on their position, prior to her the Senator from Foeroset Kryo Adab . She had combed through the document there were weaknesses within it that made her uncomfortable.

If asked the Alderaanian would have to answer in honest that...there might be some small miniscule benefit to a regulation on bounty hunters. If granted it could also be rescinded with another vote. She sighed again as Adhira Chandra finished and relinquished the floor.

She thought of the people at home, she thought of the lives that had been lost. It was her responslbility to do everything possible to protect them and sometimes that meant to agree to something that she on a personal level did not like. A soft exhale was heard by the pods nearby. She smiled as she shook her head.

Finally lifting her gaze she stood up and nudged the pod forward. "Alderaan seeks recognition"

As she always did she looked around the room to those near, and far. "I have looked the proposal over. I have reservations But then I am from Alderaan. We can vote this bill in with a yes, try it out see if the hunters abide by this, if they do not then we can just as easily revoke their privilege in Alliance space."

She nodded to the Senate, "Alderaan will join with Balmorra and vote yes on the proposal."

The pod started back, "I yield the floor"

 

[Maijan Paisea]

OBJECTIVE II // PLEXIS // PATIO SEATING
INTERACTION: Viribus // O P E N
EVERYTHING SHE WANTS​

Dark eyes narrowed in pursuit of the trio of Jedi scaling the wall( Kir Dantos , Maynard Treicolt , Zaavik Perl ). Her illusion hadn't been enough to deceive them, which was...curious. If not outright frustrating. A tightness of hostility knotted behind her breastbone, and she bit down on the straw, gritting it between her teeth. The plastic squelched in protest, permanently denting from her molars; obstructing the easy flow from glass to tongue.

Why had it been so fallible? Maybe because her heart wasn't in it. The sooner she wrapped up here, the sooner she could cash in on her paycheque and continue to not be on the wrong side of The Alliance.

For the second or two it took for her to evaluate the misconduct of the advantageous Force disciples, her collection of prisoners dissipated into the same nothingness they'd spawned from.

“Are we opting in on that trafficking operation or not?”
“Answer now, I hate surprises; otherwise...”

Ever prickly, like the top of his head, her muscle rasped his way through the shared communication channel. It sounded like her wrist was talking, and for a moment she glowered at it in her distanced isolation.

Disgusted with the situation, she tongued the crunched straw from between her lips and plucked out the umbrella, stabbing the pointed end into the railing of her elevated perch.

<Not completely.> That would bother him. That wasn't instructive enough, and she wondered if the horns on the top of his skull were all woven underneath which reduced the size of his brain mass inside. That would explain much of the shortsightedness. <Obstruct and cause some pain for these Jedi if you want. They're a nuisance, and it'd probably get you a nice bonus.

They're out of my line of sight, and I can't influence what they see without sharing their vision. I can make my way to you but..something tells me your glow stick will be infinitely more effective.

As for the trafficking...> she hummed thoughtfully, opening and closing the decorative drink parasol. The idea of forced slavery went against every fiber of the Fallannassi's teachings, let alone her gut. Authority was extraordinarily against her morals (sparse as they were). <No. That's where we stop our involvement. The idea makes my skin crawl.>

 

[Republic Engineering]

Gideon snarled, as the blade slipped under his guard and struck at his breastplate. He was an Alliance Commando, trained by the best of the best, and yet - here the man was, getting his armour carved up by a Plexian Ganger. Granted, the man’s compatriots were all dead. They died seconds after the door was breached, with smouldering carbon scores marking their corpses and small fires gnawing at their clothes. But, this one was crafty. He reacted quickly and managed to kick over the table as soon as the door exploded, sheltering his armoured body from the onslaught that transpired. He stayed down while the Commando’s made their entry, using the smoke and what remained of the table as cover to stay out of the Alliance soldier’s sights.

It was a smart play, one that spelled previous experience with these tactics. Perhaps a Rival Gang, or the Local Enforcers. Gideon couldn’t be sure, and as his armoured hand wrapped around the man’s over-extended wrist - the Commando didn’t care. With a flex of his muscles, the electro-reactive fibres of his armour silently whirred to life. They augmented the Commando’s strength and was taken to even further heights as the Pseudo-Crushgaunts activated. With the tensing of his fingers, Gideon pulped the man’s wrist. The blade that sought to drive itself into his chest dropped and clattered to the ground. The Plexian Ganger screamed out in unimaginable agony. He fought to rip himself from the Commando’s vice-like grip, going so far as to even use his leg as leverage against Gideon’s hardened carapace.

“You won’t free yourself like that,” the Commando said, as he released the Ganger’s pulped wrist - only to watch the man crumple to the ground.

“Now, I want the location of the hostages you’ve taken. Don’t try lying to me, or else I’ll start pulping every joint you have until there’s nothing left.” Gideon chuckled lightly. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t kill you. Do you see that Commando to the left of me? He’s one of the best Medic’s in the Alliance. You won’t die, nor will you go into shock. Instead, you’ll suffer. You’ll suffer so completely and utterly that you’ll beg me for death. But, until I get the answers I want, my response will always be the same.” To reinforce his threats, the Commando knelt down beside the Ganger - who tried to scramble away but was kicked back into Gideon’s grasp by another member of Sigma Squad. He placed his thrumming grip on the man’s ankle and slowly began to tense.

“Tell me what I want to know, and this will all end.”

The Plexian Ganger was breathing heavily at that moment. Spittle flew freely from his clenched jaw, alongside forceful grunts of agony. He was trying to force his system to go into shock so that he would either die - or pass out from the tremendous amount of pain he was feeling. Dynamo stepped in, then. He loaded a vial into his gauntlet-mounted injector and pressed the device against his neck. With a flick of his wrist, the vial contents were injected into the Ganger’s neck - and his response was almost immediate. His breathing suddenly began to slow, and the man’s pained grunts soon faded away. His response time began to slow, as the man’s eyes glazed over. Whatever that concoction was, it was working - and faster than Gideon could’ve ever expected.

“What… what did you give… me?”​

“I gave you a compound mixture of painkillers, sedatives, and a few drops of sodium pentothal. It’s an archaic mixture, but I find that my personal blends are more than sufficient enough for someone like you.” Dynamo said, as he withdrew the injector and watched the man’s reaction to the narcotic administration. “Now, I want you to answer the Lieutenant’s question. This euphoric state won’t last if he shatters your ankle.”

“In fact, it’ll make things much… much worse.”​

 

[Rynn Vizsla]

O B J E C T I V E I I

Rynn found himself once again working under the Alliance’s banner. This time, however, instead of saving people from a capsized wreck, his mission on Plexis was considerably more dangerous. The Mandalorian was hired, in secret, by a representative of the Strategic Intelligence Agency. The folks who worked from the shadows charged with keeping the populace of the Alliance safe from threats unseen. At first, Rynn was curious as to why they had chosen him for this mission. It was rumoured that they had a plethora of agents at their beck and call. Why would they need an outsider? Then, that’s when it hit him. Clearly, they wanted an expendable asset for this task. Something that could give them plausible deniability if things went south.

As was to be expected, the Mandalorian’s mind went down a dark path then. Whatever it was that they were doing wasn’t strictly in keeping with the Alliance’s supposed noble ideals.

However, they were more than happy to let Rynn name his price for this mission. So, the Mandalorian elected to be greedy - just to see how high they would let him go. He asked for Several thousand Credits at first. They were more than happy to oblige his request, but they asked if there was anything else. Naturally, Rynn said yes. He asked them to fill his Starship’s hold with whatever Beskar the Alliance had taken from the Sith-Imperial aligned Clans in ages past. Again, they were more than happy to give him what he asked for. Before his greed took hold, Rynn stopped asking for more. With everything he asked for, it was likely that they weren’t expecting him to succeed.

And, if the man did accomplish his task? They’d likely take him out and recover their assets, losing nothing but time in the process.

Regardless of what happened afterwards, the Mandalorian knew that the job had to be accomplished first. His targets were several individuals who were employed by one of the Plexian crime families. Supposedly, one of the wealthiest organizations on the entire Planet was able to foot the bill of these individuals. Well, at least a majority of them. The others were employed by some of the smaller houses. Those minor families sought to make a name for themselves, which would inevitably lead them towards mastering the Plexian underground. Maybe even taking over administration of the System while they were at it. If that were to happen, the Alliance would be forced to move in and occupy the Planet until stability was restored. Likely deploying their Military to make and subsequently keep the Peace.

Those individuals were easy prey. They were cocky and stalked the streets without backup or support. Alone, Rynn managed to take them down One by One, before taking them all back to his ship and locking them in pressurized slabs of carbonite. His collection grew throughout his time on Plexis, before the first wave of Alliance Judicials found themselves captured at the hands of those that remained. When the Alliance rallied their forces and sent in Agents to liberate the captives, that’s when Rynn found himself left with a pair of chain codes left on his tracking fob. They were somewhere nearby, that much was certain, but aside from that?

The tracking fob the Agency gave him for the pair of them was utterly useless.

Sure, it was handy for pointing him in the general vicinity of his targets. The tracking fob was even able to pick them out of a crowd - but when it came to finding a happy middle ground between both extremes? Forget it. However, without the infernal machine, Rynn would’ve been forced to adopt a more time-consuming approach towards hunting his prey. As the Alliance was moving in quicker than he expected, such a precious resource was being sliced away with every passing second. He needed them all to accomplish his assigned task. It simply wouldn’t do for the Mandalorian to return to the Agency with a partial load. They wouldn’t give him what he asked for, and Rynn would then be forced to return to his Clan with nothing to show for his adventurous deeds.

So, with the damned tracking fob in hand, Rynn slowly stalked the streets of the Plexian Capital City, tracking down the last of his targets.

| Maijan Paisea | Viribus |​

 

[Auteme]

Aerarii Tithe Saga of Valour ​

"You shouldn't lie," she said, glancing at the accountant when the first flimsy fib tumbled out of his mouth. At first she worried that she needed to speak up to clarify things, but it was clear that the SIA agent had done his research. She should've expected as much. The SIA, like any good intelligence agency, had intelligence. Not that it was particularly deep research; Aerarii Tithe was a public figure, and far from an insignificant one. It occurred to her that many people might know just as much about her given her position in the Senate. She'd make time to do research on herself someday soon.

Auteme straightened in her seat and collected her thoughts, then began to tell her story as asked of her by Agent Courte. She'd half expected to be ignored by the man. Tithe was the one they were really interrogating, right?

"I arrived on Bastion a few days before the main siege of Ravelin began. The Sith seemed... otherwise occupied, so I was able to sneak in unnoticed." She kept it at that. As much as her story hinged on it, she didn't want to get into the nature and will of the Force; that sort of debate was too much for her current company. Unless, of course, she was asked about it specifically. Her experience on Bastion had been quite enlightening in that aspect. After all, the Force had guided her there, but she'd been making decisions at the same time -- she was beginning to understand the nature of the paradoxes of the Force.

Anyways. "I was... doing my best to keep innocents out of harm's way, and eventually I reached the SINN headquarters, where I bumped into Moff Tithe," she said. "He'd started a broadcast over the city's PA, denouncing the Sith and encouraging their legionnaires to defect."

She paused, before shifting in her seat to look to Aerarii. "Like I said before, I'm willing to help you get pardoned and reestablished. But I also want you to help undo what the Sith have done and help others -- no offense, but I don't think your record is as spotless as you've said it is. There are things you can do to... atone, though that's a strong word."

As much as she hated the transactional method of thinking, she knew it was the most effective way to get through to the former Moff.

"If you do, I promise to help in any way I can."

 

[Saga of Valour]

// SIA Safehouse //
Plexian Residential District: [REDACTED.]
Habitation Block: [REDACTED.]
Presiding Agent in Charge: [REDACTED.]
Objective: [REDACTED.]​

There was a lot to unpack here, Agent Courte mused.

With his comments that laid the overarching intent bare, Davin expected that Aerarii would take some time to gather his thoughts - before presenting them. If that event had come to pass, the conversation would’ve given the man a few moments, depending entirely on how long the Jedi had taken with her response. He had expected it would’ve been at least a few minutes - as Jedi, on the whole, were traditionally wordy in their responses. Something about how the Force had guided them and beckoned them to answer like any impartial mediator would. While Davin hadn’t encountered many Jedi - the academic rumour mill was rife with such examples being shared amongst their kin.

There was even one that made Davin burst out laughing, but the details were hazy - having transpired long ago.

Nevertheless, as the man’s attention shifted away from the silent Jedi, He listened intently as Aerarii spoke. Much of what the man said fit within the scope of the Agency’s projections. With the loss of their financial sector, the Empire would enter a period of fiscal disorder whilst they sought to relocate their assets. What made things interesting, and caused Davin to laugh ever-so-briefly, was when the Defector mentioned that their investments were relocated to Bastion. I bet that worked out well for them, the Agent thought. Regardless of what transpired within the Empire, it was likely that they would proclaim such losses were to be expected. And that they were still financial giants amongst the playground.

But, it was clear that they were hurting - despite whatever airs they put on. And in the end, that’s all that mattered. Let them claim whatever they wish, the Empire finally knew of the pain they inflicted upon the Core Worlds. It was likely that the war would continue to drag more and more systems away from their crumbling autocracy. Perhaps then, there might be an intergalactic and societal curse that lingered around Empires and how they always fell at the hands of those they once considered kin. It was at that moment that Aerarii’s stream of information ended, as brief as it was.

It was clear that he wasn’t pleased with his lodging, and Davin couldn’t blame him. Sadly, they needed something that was out of the way and far from the Public eye. A place where no Bounty Hunter would ever think to look, as it was wholly unbecoming of a man who likely relished the finer things in life. But, there was a chance that with the information and confirmations that were provided - they could relocate him to another safe house on a more prosperous world closer to the centre of the Galaxy.

“Sadly, I’m not in a position that can offer you what you seek, as that’s a decision that needs to be made by my superiors. However, they may look favourably on the information you’ve provided the Agency and work towards giving you what you seek.” A man in his position was likely undaunted by the prospect of being hunted down by Assassins or Bounty Hunters. If they were true to their avaricious nature, all the man had to do was offer them more Credits than the posted bounty. Sure, it would be a financial drain, but for a man who governed the entire wealth of the Sith Empire? That wouldn’t be anything more than a momentary issue.

Especially if Aerarii skimmed some credits off the top and invested them in ‘offshore’ accounts.

When Davin was about to speak once more, attempting to probe for whatever shreds of information he could - the Jedi finally spoke. You shouldn’t lie. That alone spawned many questions that Davin’s mind wanted to have answered. What was Aerarii lying about? Was it his position within the administration of the Sith Empire, or something else that was said? A part of him wished the Jedi would extrapolate on her comment - rather than leaving it hanging. As her story began, detailing what she was doing within Sith-Imperial space - Davin made a note so he wouldn’t forget. There was a thread here that needed to be pulled, as something didn’t match up. It wasn’t until the Jedi Auteme was halfway through her story that the frayed thread presented itself.

Moff.​

And there it was. The missing thread that was begging Davin to pull it. When the Jedi had finished her story, Agent Courte placed his dataslate onto the table. His eyes narrowed slightly as his attention returned to the Defector.

“A mere bureaucrat, eh?”

Much of the Sith-Imperial Administrative Structure was unknown to the Agency. Not for lack of trying, of course. But, it was because of the Purges that transpired after the mass-defection and formation of the New Imperial Order. Those who occupied positions known to the Agency often found themselves replaced or eliminated - which left their databanks rife with outdated and false information. Sure, it had its uses, but operating with incorrect information would surely lead to the Agency’s inevitable downfall and likely the Alliance thereafter.

“Mr. Tithe, or should I say Moff Tithe,” Davin said with a nod towards the Jedi. “I’m afraid that there will be a few more questions that need to be asked. And, subsequently answered before my Superiors even consider granting you political asylum or a pardon. But, we can deal with those at a later date with different accommodations befitting your station. The information gathered from the following question, however, will surely expedite the process - but I’m sure you can understand… with this new development...”

“You are now a critical asset to the Agency.”​

Agent Courte paused for a moment as he leaned forward to place his elbows on the edge of the table and weave his fingers together.

“I will need to know what foreign investments the Sith Empire has made, and if you were in charge of any partisan militias that acted as the Board’s intergalactic enforcers.”

| Aerarii Tithe | Auteme |​

 

[Seto Du Couteau]

Seto Du Coutaeu, Senator
Location: Senate Chambers, Coruscant
Action: Listening before Speaking
Attire

Another bill, another assembly, and another day wasted was all that the young Du Couteau heir mused to himself. He had seen the purpose bill for the Bounty Hunting License, a mere piece of data points to allow anyone with enough credits to kill. Albeit, to kill for credits, an honest job for some I guess. . .

His fingers drummed along his data-slate, unenthused with the prospect of having to deal with any potential fall back on his representative system; Seto over all agreed with the idea of this proposal. His ears perked when hearing the Representative from the Republic Engineering, addressing both the worries and potential bias but it hardly mattered to the overall discussion as more and more the rest of the Senators voiced their approval.

However tepid some of their approvals sounded.

Seto relaxed into his seat as he continued to listen, several concerns boiled to how to regulate the Bounty Hunters once licensed. While it was true in the sense that regulating and taxing the Bounty Hunters was far more feasible than outright outlawing such professions, to ensure all those with the licenses to properly follow the mandates set for them. . . Well, the attempt alone would be monumental if we tried to ensure them follow the rules.

With a brief but focused inner deliberation Seto stood up to participate. “Empress Teta seeks recognition.”

“We, after much thought, endorse the Alliance Peace-Keeping Certificate.”

No fanfare, Seto quickly took his seat once more and prepared himself for the onslaught of added data-slate work he would no doubt be subject to once he got home. Who am I kidding, I’ll be swamped before I even leave the Senate Floors. The snowy haired Senator sighed at the thought, with his hands already massaging the encouraging headache.
​

| Saga of Valour | Adhira Chandra | Faith Organa |

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

LOCATION: Strategic Intelligence Agency safe house
OBJECTIVE: BYOO
ALLIES: Open
POST: IV

In a few short words, Auteme undid all his hard work up until that point.

In hindsight, it was probably inevitable. Between his alchemised ring, which he thumbed unconsciously, and a career founded on deceit and bargaining, Tithe had felt comfortable talking his way out of the situation to the satisfaction of the SIA special agent. But even if he could fool Auteme about his past, she’d seen the way he had breezed through various high-security checkpoints on Bastion. A ‘mere bureaucrat’ would be lying dead in the streets right now.

Still, all was not lost. The offer of a pardon hadn’t been withdrawn, and Special Agent Courte still seemed interested in hearing what Aerarii had to say.

Though he strongly suspected he was not going to enjoy being a critical asset of the SIA.

“The Board was purely a governance apparatus,” Tithe clarified as he leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers. That was the first utterly truthful statement he’d uttered. “The Trade Association handled enforcement and racketing outside the Sith borders. I, ah, their functions were never in my purview.” Again, another statement without an ounce of a lie. Hopefully, that would satisfy Auteme.

The former Moff leaned forward and retrieved a piece of flimsiplast from the table. With a stylus, he wrote down three company names, including one with links to a high profile member of the Galactic Alliance Senate, before folding the sheet in neatly in half. He held it up before Agent Courte, just beyond his comfortable reach.

“Consider this remittance for any earlier digression,” he explained. “Might I recommend your finance audit division pursue the recent reports of these fine, upstanding galactic corporations.” He placed the sheet of filmsi on the table and slid it toward the agent.

Tithe had committed to memory hundreds of details of dealings between the Sith Empire and companies from all across the galaxy from his time as the Chair of the Foreign Investment Board. Ironically, all of the companies at one point or another had publicly denounced the Sith regime, often while simultaneously taking lucrative contracts from them. While the intel was valuable, he was keenly aware that it also had a short shelf life. Deals were being made every day, and but the time he placed his cards, the incriminating evidence he knew about could have long vanished.

“And that, my dear friend, is just the beginning,” he said, looking to Auteme. Even a little bit of progress in the right direction might be enough to get her off his back.

 

[Kir Dantos]

​

OBJECTIVE II - Pugnantes Nominis Umbra

ALLIES: Maynard Treicolt Zaavik Perl Loske Treicolt Ruus
FOES: Maijan Paisea

​

Kir could only hope his rope was long enough as he gazed up at the wall which towered over the three. He removed the line from his backpack and handed it to his master, most of his prior concerns being abated as Maynard flung the rope up to the top of the barrier, beginning his ascent. He waited for the older Jedi to scale the wall first before he started his own abseil. Remembering that it was safer to have someone at the bottom in case things went Jogan-fruit shaped. Watching intently, he raised an eyebrow as he heard a thud from the other side, prompting him to ready himself to assist his teacher if anything were to happen, which he had a feeling wasn't going to be the case.

"I'll go up next Zaavik." He addressed his fellow padawan, rolling out the cord and flinging it up to the wall as the hook on the end locked on. Giving himself a long breath out for purposes of self confidence, he eagerly grabbed the rope, pulled him, and propelled himself upwards with a force assisted leap upwards. As he'd been trained, he remembered to get two legs on the wall and from his vantage point, he held on for dear life and began to climb, finding it difficult to adjust to the way of walking he had to use while climbing.

Opposing him, a man clad in armor with a yellow lightsaber ignited held near his waist, staring down the Concordian with a devilish gaze. A twi'lek with a skin of a greenish hue, eyes in a golden infernal blaze of the dark side. Clearly, a Sith, Dark jedi. Any malediction of the dark creed would do.

In his hand, Maynard instantly snapped to the design of the hilt...it was hers. At that realization he'd let out a cry of anger before swiping forward with a full force and brutalist cut toward the alien who managed to lock his blade with the Jedi's.

Reaching the summit of his rather arduous climb, he peered towards the commotion that was occurring a few metres away from him. From what he could make out Maynard was sparring with a twi-lek opponent, and was actually on the upper hand, his opponent on the back foot, quite literally. Deciding to cut his losses, he hit the button on his lightsaber, the orange blade shooting out of the emitter with the classic hiss. Jogging cautiously across the ledge, he tried to his hardest to make it there in time to ensure a swift end to the bout.

By the time he'd made his way to their position, the blade wielding hostile had been reduced to a decapitated corpse that was quickly discarded of. "Well, that's one way to do it Master." He remarked, watching the body drop with a thud onto the ground. "Zaavik hasn't made it up yet, he should be on his way now. We got a good chance of breaking in there, but I think the less straightforward part is going to be getting out. I don't think we know how many we've got guarding and who were going to face to get to those inside. Forward recon seems unlikely at this point, so I think our best option is to go gung-ho."

Kir analysed the main complex, noting the blocky yet poignant architecture which said quite a bit about its occupants. There were certainly going to be choke points and guard towers all around to stunt their path. From his various ventures on the ground, he understood that the proper knowledge and intelligence was key to a successful campaign. He thought back to the Fornax debacle where catastrophic losses had been suffered due to a deficiency in proper intelligence to complete the objective. Feeling inside his backpack, he felt the spherical shape of the thermal detonators and accepted what was necessary. Desperate times called for desperate measures. The danger the prisoners were in was quite desperate for all he knew.

 

[Viribus]

Allies: Maijan Paisea
Foes: Rynn Vizsla | Maynard Treicolt | Kir Dantos | Zaavik Perl | Ruus

How considerate of her. A bonus if he engaged with the Jedi and their forces? Why not throw him a bone, too, while she’s at it. Was it him, or were the muscles of a syndicate always shat on? He wasn’t the stereotypical all brawn, no brain thug. Was worth twice than all the scumbag Weequay and Nikto found as the grunts of a Hutt’s cartel ring. The only respect was he got paid a slightly better cut than starting, yet still couldn’t help but noticed he did all the sweating and bleeding while Maijan enjoyed her nest with whatever beverage she was enjoying.

Hopefully she doesn’t break a nail

Though whatever frustrations he had, he kept them to himself. Slightly annoyed, but his people never complained. A harsh life of Iridonia taught him many values, some he forfeited for a life of crime.

“Imagine you fighting your own battles...wouldn’t that be a sight,” a slight jab at the Fallanasi seer. He made no comment on her decision of the trafficking operation. The Zabrak was indifferent about it, although he had never dirtied his hands that much. It had a pretty coin to it that much he knew about that particular industry, especially with the Zygerrians and Hutts. But he’d follow her call on it.

Viribus moved in to intercept the Jedi, the look of a killer in his eye. Jedi was singular or plural, meaning he didn’t know how many he’d face. One was nothing to sweat on. Anything that was three or more was definitely pushing it. Kill one or maybe two, take their lightsabers and have those iconic weapons to himself or make cash by selling it.

But if things went south, he was booking it. No use for credits when you’re dead or captured.

 

[Maijan Paisea]

OBJECTIVE II // PLEXIS // ON THE MOVE
INTERACTION: Viribus // O P E N
PENDING: Rynn Vizsla
SOMEBODY'S_WATCHING_ME
​

---

“Imagine you fighting your own battles...wouldn’t that be a sight,”

<No, no, you forget Viribus...> A wicked smirk twitched at the edge of her mouth, tugging it upward in a marvel at the comment that managed to sneer through the remote communications. Even though the veil of technology, the dig managed to translate. He seemed to forget the largest benefit of the Fallanassi practice was invisibility. Swiftly, she reminded him: <Wouldn't be a sight. That's the whole schtick.>

Nevertheless, this was probably going to wrap up pretty quickly.

<And this is neither of our battles. This is just...well, for me it's an all-inclusive visit to Ord Cantrell.>

Unbothered by the current events, the darkly marbled woman plunked the parasol into the mouth of the glass and left whatever remaining contents where she'd been sitting. Someone nearby rose to stand, alarmed by the sudden movements of the illusionist. As she moved, a thin vile slipped from the sleeve of her blouse; a containment stepped tightly against her wrist. Now that she was out of alcohol, she'd need something to keep herself pleasantly tolerant. Ryll would do the trick. It was subtle enough not to affect her performance too greatly, and now with the main show over, she could traverse to the head honcho and demand the payment transfer.

On her heels, a broad-shouldered Nikto who blinked twice the average expected amount, followed suit. He was dutifully silent, glancing left and right while they navigated through the complex. Outside, a ruckus was starting to build. And while the golden woman didn't flinch visibly, her stomach was tight and she was growing anxious.

It was several fast-paced footsteps that took her to the manager of affairs.

"I'm surprised you're not packing up to leave."

"And run into Alliance ships in the Atmosphere? That's not how we show our strength here."

"Right. Well," Maijan stretched lazily, rolling her wrists to demonstrate how finished she was for the day "Things are getting a little hot and out of the scope of our contract. And as hot as it is here, my bank account's a little chilly. Could use a nice warm transfer."

The hired accountant sneered, the datapad in their hand flashing with an incoming message that didn't seem to concern them greatly.

"It's initiating."

The thing about gangsters stressed about fighting other gangsters, meant it reduced their want to negotiate. Getting things done and wrapped up was significantly more efficient than her usual dealings.

Finally, the networks connected and made an indicative sound of confirmation. It was enough for Maijan to dip her head in appreciation, and the Nikto to not follow her as she made a hasty exodus from the concealed offices of the administration. Now she just had to make it back to their ship without any issue and wait patiently for her muscle to arrive.

For extra measure, the Force maestro wrapped herself in the waves of the white current, lazily concealing her visibility. But not going so far as to completely eliminate her traceability through other means.

​

 

[Shattered_Mirror]

PLEXIS ORBIT

​

Jianna sighed heavily. She was expecting something completely different. Instead, her Squadron Commander insisted that her vessel, the Eidolon II, lead the task force being dispatched to the Plexian Front. At first, she believed that some Confederate Ships breached the Violet Curtain and trespassed on Alliance clay. There was a moment where she toyed with the idea of firing warning shots across their bow and forcing them back towards the distant border. However, that errant notion was smothered swiftly after it was eagerly conceived. Instead of repulsing their Southern Neighbours, the Eidolon and her Sisters would be tasked with supporting elements of the Judicial Forces that were already situated on the planet’s surface.

Sadly, as this wasn’t a military operation, her orders were to work alongside the Local Administration and assist their Patrol Craft in locking down the system. Every ship that wasn’t marked with the Alliance Starbird was getting routinely inspected and scanned. Whilst the Starfighter Corps ran patrol and interdiction missions - whenever a foolish, but brave Starship commander sought to make a run for it. She felt her talents and those of her crew were being wasted in such an endeavour. But, after several hours and a few duty shifts had passed, Jianna reaffirmed herself with the administrative pecking order. She was one of the youngest Captains within the Alliance Navy, and High Command sought to test her.

To see if the woman would succumb to her youthful desires and act out against the established command structure. Whether it was true or not, she believed that it was her duty to showcase that age was just a number. That she wasn’t guided solely by emotion, and that she could keep the faith that others placed upon her shoulders. She wouldn’t become irrational, nor fit the moulded judgements they sought to bash her into. Jianna would define herself through her actions, rather than the previously established stereotypes coming from an elderly generation trying to rein in their offspring. “Kark them,” she whispered.

“Kark, who, Ma’am?” Vergil asked.

She tore her glazed eyes away from the desk situated before her. She looked at the manifestation of her Ship’s Artificial Intelligence. “Oh,” She started, with a fringe of embarrassment and surprise coating her voice. “Sorry, Vergil, I was lost in thought and seemingly vented my frustrations. I’m starting to feel like I’m losing my edge with the lack of action we’ve seen lately. Those Botori Pirates were scattered and routed, and then what remains of the Frozen Hand has long since died out. Whatever Imperial Warlords their death may have birthed, seemingly fled beyond our borders or have somehow managed to escape our notice. Either way, the Core Regions have never been more stable and peaceful. Hell, I’d dare to say that they’ve never been more prosperous either, especially with our War against the distant Sith Empire.”

“I just never imagined,” She said, tossing a glance towards the armoured viewport. “That we’d live to see the day. I always assumed that some malignant force lurked amongst the stars, seeking to snuff out the sparks of hope before they could reignite and spread. Where we would be fighting an uphill battle every day in the hopes of surviving to see tomorrow. Like how my Mother fought against the waning Empire of the One Sith in the previous iteration of the Alliance.”

“So,” Vergil began, as he processed her words. “You’re frustrated and disappointed that we’ve entered a new era of peace and prosperity. That your world is vastly different from that of your Mother’s, and that alone is causing your mind to become restless. It’s clear to me that Inaction doesn’t suit you, Captain.”

“In a way,” Jianna said with another heavy sigh. “I was raised to fight for everything I wanted or needed. That the Galaxy wouldn’t give me anything unless I took it for myself. Everything changed when I enlisted and was pushed through the Academy. But, that’s the way this Galaxy works. The only constant in life is the fact it’s inconstant. Which - to some - is maddening. Especially when they try to inject some stability in their lives. One way or another, it all ends up biting them in the ass.”

“Anyways,” Jianna continued, picking up the casually discarded data slate. “I’m going to finish up with these reports before trying to get some shut-eye. Keep me informed of any changes in the planetside operations. And, oh,” She paused for a moment, before turning her gaze towards the fading Ochre orb. “Please delete any records of our conversation. I’d rather not have the SIA nor High Command have access to our off-duty discourse. What was said was between us, and none other. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, Ma’am,” Vergil said. “Privacy protocols were engaged as soon as you stepped into your Ready Room. No record of our conversation exists. I would only violate that command prompt if you were being treasonous or conspiring to overthrow the Defence Force’s organizational hierarchy. Manufacturer’s directive, I’m afraid.”

“I’d never betray the Alliance, willingly or otherwise. I’ve given too much to them for such cowardly acts to benefit me in any capacity. I just… crave a bit of privacy now and then.”

“A rare commodity these days. And with that,” Vergil said before vanishing. “I shall leave you to your Off-duty hours. Have a good evening, Captain.”

“You too,” She said with a smile. “My friend.”

 

[Captain Raith]

PLEXIS - CAPITAL CITY STREETS

​

When the Major and a portion of his Regiment were dispatched to Plexis, the man believed it would be a simple peacekeeping operation. The locals had recently gotten out of hand, causing the fires of civil unrest to spread across their world. The flames were endangering the local populace. The riots turned into acts of violence - perpetrated by the extensive network of the Plexian criminal underground. One thing led to another, and the planet’s Administrative Body was unable to keep their society stable. There were no laws anymore, save for that of the concrete jungle. Band together and prove that you’re the strongest, or else be swallowed up by the spreading fires of conflict. Tycho had to admit that he wasn’t surprised, as the Administrative Body failed to act fast enough. They let their problems amass until they couldn’t be ignored any longer. That was when they decided to crack down on the populace, hoping to return a semblance of order to their daily lives.

Sadly, that expected result was thrown in their faces. The Alliance agents that were sent to assist the Plexian Government were captured. Some were likely executed or remain in captivity in the hopes of garnering some form of ransom. That wasn’t covering half of the situation that the Major’s marines were walking into. It was a mess, no matter how you tried to look at it. Thankfully, the Plexian Government decided to be smart - after realizing that their hold on their own planet was slipping. They granted military access to the Galactic Alliance’s Defence Force. Asking that their Marines help keep the peace - or make it, should the last threads be severed by criminal action. There were Jedi on the ground by the time Tycho and his subordinates touched down. They were already spearing towards the most afflicted centres, likely punching towards lost comrades or loved ones. He was thankful for their assistance and would have to honour them after the dust settled.

However, Tycho’s job was to establish a foothold on the Plexian surface before tasking Squads of Marines to spread throughout the City. He tasked over half-a-dozen Gunships and Carry-Alls to make for the surface, each ferrying supplies - or essential personnel to secure their landing zone. The rest would be placed on standby in orbit. He could’ve easily ordered his entire task force to take to the surface, but that would’ve likely been taken the wrong way. The Plexian people would’ve seen that as a flagrant act of aggression, or even a planetary invasion, which would’ve sarcastically done wonders for the Alliance’s public relations. Such an act would’ve also rallied the people to the myriad causes of the Plexian Underground, effectively ruining whatever chance that both the Alliance and the Plexian Administration had restoring stability.

That couldn’t happen. Not only because it would make his assignment more difficult, but because it would ruin the very government that he represented. His career would be flushed out of the refresher. He would likely be dishonourably discharged for the use of excessive force in a delicate operation. All of which would see his records stained by his misconduct. It’d be almost impossible for him to find work in a similar field - even on the local level. Why would the people trust someone who uses a sledgehammer when a scalpel will do? Such thoughts ran through his mind before the decision was made, and the Major was thankful that he elected to see reason. The minimal amount of force would be applied in the initial phases of their, and gradually amplified over time if it was required.

When their foothold was established, and several Squads of Marines began to spread out amongst the City, Tycho found himself at the ever-expanding front. He wasn’t a man to lead from behind the lines like other Commanders. The Son of Alderaan even had his armour modified to carry a more extensive and powerful Comms Array. So he could keep in contact with his units in the field, whilst he was deployed as well. It was unorthodox, to say the least, but the Men and Women under his Command respected him for it. He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. The Major led by example. If he didn’t do it himself, how could the man expect others to do it in his place? In his mind, it was folly to command one’s subordinates otherwise and expect them to respect oneself in return.

Thus, Major Dune found himself roaming the streets alongside a few Squads of his Marines. They were tasked with securing this sector, before (re)claiming it for the Plexian Government, and moving onto another district. They searched houses by invitation and assisted what remained of the Planet’s Enforcement Agency - whenever permission wasn’t given freely. It was too risky to brute-force their way into a foreign compound, demanding that they comply with the Alliance’s intrusion. Everything had to be above board. This wasn’t their world, and they were here at the behest of the Planetary Government. They were guests, and the Major ensured that his Marines knew that. He ordered them to be wholly respectful of the culture and laws that once governed this world. That in disrespecting their beliefs, they would make enemies out of the populace - and this entire operation would fail, horribly.

However, there were times that such peaceful relations weren’t encountered. As the Major was almost finished clearing a habitation block, reports erupted across the Alliance BattleNet regarding enemy contact near the edge of the district. It seemed that a gang of miscreants had staked their claim on that sector and sought to drive off these would-be invaders by whatever means necessary.

“Alright boys and girls,” Tycho said, drawing in the collective gaze of his Unit. “Third and Seventh Squads have encountered some Tangos hiding in a nearby structure. Let’s go and give them some support.”

“Move out!”​