Faction Over/Throw | The First Order

[Delilah Graham]

AVALONIA, DOSUUN
1858 HOURS - SOCOM BRIEFING ROOM AUREK ZERO SIX
[THEME]
​

Her features bathed in the pale blue light of the holoprojector, Delilah Graham stood to the right of the podium and leaned against it, her eyes scanning as individuals filed in. Still others would be briefed remotely, dialing in from elsewhere. Come the appointed hour, and Delilah cleared her throat and moved to stand behind the podium, looking over the rim of her glasses as the last few filed in, then used the integrated control panel on the podium to dim the lights further and start the confidentiality measures. "Good evening, everyone," she said gravely. "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Delilah Graham. You're all codeword clearance for this upcoming operation, titled Operation: Restoration. Please be aware that this is a clandestine operation and must remain so indefinitely. Thank you for your ongoing discretion."

"Now, to business. Restoration has been approved by the Foreign Office and Moff Westaway. As some of you may know, this is a joint operation between the Bureau and SOCOM, so in a moment I'll turn things over to Lieutenant Colonel Madine. But first — that," she said, nodding to the holoprojector table to her right, "is Tholon, former First Order planet and current single-party dictatorship ruled by the Tholonian Workers' Republic."

"Their leader," she went on, and a three-dimensional holographic bust of a masked humanoid replaced Tholon in the holoprojector field. "Is known by most only as The Director. Unfortunately, our intelligence has not been able to positively identify the Director, although our best efforts suggest that the Director is an identity used by one or more members of the revolutionary groups that came to form the Republic after the Ssi-Ruuk were pushed off of Tholon. Cross-referencing to the list of those we know to have been executed by the Director for counter-revolutionary activities, we've narrowed it down to only a handful of men and women. Of course, these names are only really useful if our theory as to the pool of potential identities is accurate. In short, we don't know."

She paused and looked over the group, hating herself for having to admit how little she could tell them. "Moff Westaway recently returned from a visit to Tholon to investigate the Doonium shortage, but before she could determine the causes of the shortage, members of the Tholonian resistance intercepted her — those who oppose the Workers' Republic and their draconian methods. Moff Westaway provided information regarding these purges and the Republic's mismanaging of Tholon's resources, which has prompted her authorization of Operation: Restoration. Our aim is to assist the resistance movement in unseating The Director. We believe that the leadership of the resistance will prove more cooperative to First Order interests, and that they will not engage in the kind of brutality we have seen under the Republic."

"As a secondary aim, Agent Lotus — " an image of Isobel Nakano appeared on the holoprojector. " — has been stranded on Tholon and is, we believe, in The Director's custody." She looked over at the room, then to Gunnar Madine. "I've given you the what and why. I'll now defer to Lieutenant Colonel Madine for the how. Lieutenant Colonel Madine, please." Delilah stepped away from the podium.

Gunnar Madine | Zole | Quinlan Reade | @First Order​

 

[Gunnar Madine]

Briefing Room Aurek Zero Six | 1900 HRS LOCAL
-
​

He had arrived a full fifteen minutes before the briefing was to begin, his darkened utility uniform pristine as if he had ironed and starched it. Attention to detail. It was one of his strengths whether in the field or in something as innocuous as a mission briefing, the latter the purpose for his presence here. He knew some of the details via unofficial channels but most of the data he was to share, the direction, had been generated completely based off of FOSB and FOSOC reconnaissance and a couple firsthand accounts from the delegation to Tholon. As Delilah Graham began to speak he took up position in the shadows to the side of the room, waiting and listening. The overall situation brief was handled effectively despite their lack of true information on the identity of the Director. It was a blessing in some ways, a curse in others. FOSOC didn't much care for the who provided that they could come out of this with some verifiable proof that the man in the image displayed was neutralized.

As the woman concluded her introduction brief Gunnar stepped forward, nodding in acknowledgement. "Thank you Ms. Graham." he responded, dark eyes peering into the dimly lit room. "Ladies and gentlemen. If you would direct your eyes to the screen and follow along. I won't be reading off our slides today - you all know how to read." On the screen that had moments ago shown the masked visage of The Director the display flickered, an aerial overlay of the surface of Tholon appeared, a large opening in the world's crust leading towards a wide descending shaft. "What you're looking at here is Deephaven, it's the capital city of Tholon and the primary hub of the Director's activities." A small hand gesture and the screen shifted, an almost wireframe, x-ray view filled the screen with an overlay of the city below. A complex network of industrial facilities, lorry roads, high density piping, and mineshafts were highlighted. Adjusting perspective a three dimensional layout appeared, showing the unique architecture of the city constructed beneath the ground. "The Tholonian Resistance is scattered about the city and have a decentralized structure. This means once we hit the ground you'll have to make contact with the local cells. We have been given two coordinate locations for insertion, representatives of the local resistance are going to receive us there."

A plethora of maps and icons flashed on the screen detailing the suggested movements and targets of interest as he continued. "We're here in an advisory and support role so the Resistance will be taking the lead on this. That said, we've drafted up a few avenues of attack for them using our analysis of similar organizations to the TWR and factored in our projected assets. As to our man on the ground, Agent Lotus." He paused, the display flicking to the woman's official record, pieces and parts redacted. The focus on her photo. "We have insufficient intelligence to reasonably deduce her location. Our assets in the Resistance haven't been much help either but they've narrowed it down to two locations, both of which coincide with our projected path of attack: The Director's residence." The building in question was the former residence of the Royal Family of Tholon. Unlike the rest of the city there was a distinct tack away from the industrial leanings in the architecture, less practical and more indulgent. It still had some trappings of the surrounding architecture but it was cleaner than the rest.

"This target is just as much symbolic to the Resistance as well as a high probability location we might find our missing man. The other priority the Resistance has highlighted for us is the location of The Director's headquarters - the Capitol Annex." The image flicked away from the Royal Residence and zoomed in on a network of connected buildings, the central spire reminiscent of the old dome architecture that once housed the First Order's own government. "If they control this annex, they believe they can sway the rest of the population to come over peacefully. Our best heads at Military Intelligence seem to agree. As for Rules of Engagement, you are to respond with force only when encountered. Again, we're not lead on this mission. Unnecessary casualties will result in questions asked that we don't want to have to answer. I have attached an official operations plan to the data now transmitting to your pads - be sure you brief your staff thoroughly. We can't afford to muck this up gentlemen. Good luck, and good hunting."

Lt. Col. Madine stepped away from the podium, motioning towards Delilah once more. In a quieter tone he addressed her. "If you've got anything to close with?"

MISSION DETAILS:

Spoiler

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

Ben Tanileu quietly observed the meeting and listened for the instructions. Her eyes looked at the screen as the information was provided and they were briefed. They being, the men and women of the First Order's intelligence community along with special operations commandos. More importantly, neither agency would be taking lead, instead, the Tholonian Resistance would be taking point on the mission. She looked around the room a moment and settled her nerves. It wasn't taking out pirates over the Red Nebula, it was the complete opposite. ​

​

A nearby field agent seemed to be getting ready, Tanileu wondered what ran through her mind. Must've looked on a little too long, the agent caught Tanileu's gaze. The agent approached her and said, "don't get happy down there." Tanileu would later learn that that woman was Agent Sahani, but it would be all that the Commando would learn of her at least on this mission. In the back of the Gilarian's mind it was daunting, but then - she remembered that it wouldn't be just her on the ground, and above all else, she could rely on her training. ​

​

Zole | Delilah Graham | Gunnar Madine | Quinlan Reade ​

 

[Delilah Graham]

"Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel," said Delilah. "I have nothing to add except that Bureau resources, including myself, will be on hand to assist with logistical matters on the ground: jamming enemy frequencies, hacking surveillance systems, directing traffic, that sort of thing. Should you have any logistical requirements, please escalate those along your chain of command. The frequencies are in your briefing materials. We have resources on the ground now that will distort their orbital tracking sensors and allow us a brief window to infiltrate without alerting their defense forces, so timing will be tight. If there are no other questions..."

She looked around once more, then disengaged the holoprojector. The lights came up automatically, returning them all to their usual shades rather than ghostly blue. "Very good. I'll leave you to prepare."

Delilah left the briefing room and made her way to her office to collect her satchel before heading for the spaceport where she boarded her ship.

Gunnar Madine | Zole | Quinlan Reade | Resurgent Narrative​

 

[Zole]

Kaelan walked straight from one briefing room to another. He was a link in the chain, even if the piece that hung from him was very small. A three man fireteam of experienced commandos.

Jarrick knew his way around all the places a soldier wasn't supposed to be. Back in the day they had done things that was probably no long committed to a single data disk.

Farqee had never worked with him before. The First Order had grown so large before its collapse that those who had returned were from disparate groups. She was a middle aged rodian, came with a very blank record but an exceptional reputation.

"Thoughts?" he asked them, after relating what he knew. They had to get some details down of their own. There were always many levels of plans, each level down smaller in scope yet finer in detail.

"The environment is a mess. If the Republic forces dig it in will take a long time to get them out. Likewise if the resistance fails, they could hold entire sectors of the city for weeks."

"We should get some small recon droids in case we need to engage in that mess then?" Kaelan suggested. "See if we can requisition some generic models the resistance could have."

"[Briefing says avoid combat]," Farqee replied in her native language with a shrug.

"Well...there's always scope for when you assume your local forces might be in trouble, therefore putting your life at risk..." Kaelan replied.

"[What about forces under the Director who might turn? If their mesh comms networks break down...]"

"I don't see anything in the notes," replied Kaelan. "I'll put in an RFI whilst we're in transit. Resistance forces on the ground might be keeping those cards close to the chest. Might be question to ask face to face. Right, I'm sending our initial report back up the chain. Go get your kit."

 

[Quinlan Reade]

Tholon | Industrial District
Aegir Manufactory | Assembly Line 7
-

Anxiety had nearly paralyzed the native Tholonian in the early hours of the day. Every waking movement requiring great effort and resolve, even the simple act of lacing his boots had threatened to overwhelm the man - the coffee had helped though. Taking a deep breath he forced that anxiety downward, pushing it into the very pit of his stomach. At least there it was manageable if a bit uncomfortable. Today was the day, a day of days. A day that would send them careening down a path that couldn't be untread once they had begun. It was a lot to shoulder, the load made only heavier by the weight of the dead - his sister among them.

The sounds of heavy machinery and the whir of a conveyor belt drew his attention back to the task at hand. Lining either side of the belt stood workers, some young, some old, most covered in soot or grime. Grease stained his own dungarees, his gloved hands carefully inspecting each small assembly as it rolled on down the line. A quick glance revealed a shock of red fabric poking from another worker's breast pocket. A quiet sigh of relief escaped Quinlan's lips. That was the sign. It meant that everything was set, the plans had been accepted and they were ready to receive their guests. It had been difficult, dangerous, and even now there was a high probability that some of their plan had been intercepted or deciphered by the masked man - the Director's cabal. That was the trouble with resistance movements, or one of them anyway. You never knew who you could trust and often those you did could have any number of reasons for defecting or handing over information to the enemy. The enemy.

It was a strange dichotomy to Mr. Reade. The idea that a government consisting of the people could be an enemy but the people themselves were not. He'd had to remind himself of that - this wasn't about the people of Tholon. At least, not about their work under the Director. No, this was for the Tholonian people. A silent yoke had been placed upon them and they'd failed to realize it for one reason or another. Perhaps a healthy amount of self preservation had led them down this path. Pah. It didn't matter. Quinlan had taken great care in selecting his targets, whom he'd shared his information with, and who knew the larger scope of the plan - what they'd lacked was resources. Resources that would soon be provided by the First Order.

He was due to meet them at LZ 2, near the Royal Residence. His former home. It made sense, he would be the best equipped to brief them on what they'd need to watch out for. LZ 1 was a different matter however. One of his trusted Lieutenants, a human woman named Philomena, would meet the First Order's task force in support of taking the Capitol annex. Once the plan was in motion there was not turning back - this would be the hill they died on, or at least they were willing to die on it. The red shock of fabric had been the sign that everything was proceeding according to plan and that was some small relief to quell the man's nerves. Soon enough he'd find his way off the assembly line and towards LZ 2. After that, the fates would decide.

 

[Ares Havelock]

The Director stirred in his bed in the royal residence, turning to face the edge of the bed. He sat up and then stretched his arms over his head, feeling his spine decompress with relief, the muscles in his back rippling. He stood and continued stretching, then dropped to the ground and went into a routine of bodyweight exercises for an hour. By then, the raven-haired woman in his bed was stirring as well. It was early, too early for her to be awake. "I'll be on the treadmill next, so if you want to sleep some more, you should probably take a guest room." The woman didn't answer verbally, only smiled and picked up a discarded dressing gown, which she wrapped around herself before heading towards the door. "I'll see you this evening," he told her as she let herself out.

An hour on the treadmill later, he ordered breakfast and hit the shower, emerging fully dressed in time to oversee the delivery of his breakfast and coffee. As he ate, he queued his security briefing and reviewed it. Nothing of major concern, really, but there was a little... something. A potential system glitch in the orbital security sensors had caused the technicians to reboot them, meaning that orbital coverage was down for a short while.

He sipped his coffee.

Black.

No frills.

He frowned and studied the report again, his gaze tracing over the words a few more times. Then he picked up his comlink and called his security chief. "My office, five minutes," he said curtly. "Bring someone from the orbital security center. I have... questions."

Quinlan Reade | Zole | Resurgent Narrative | Gunnar Madine​

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

Agent Sahani departed the meeting once it was over, she caught the eyes of one of the SCG's people but that was about it. She had a RT-97C slung onto her back, a thin spacer's leather strap ran across her body keeping it tied to the agent. She had a K-16 Bryar Pistol in its holster as she grabbed a cargo shuttle and began the trip to Tholon. In the shuttle there was a small team of personnel assembled, "there's a weapons chance, or should be a weapons cache not too far from the landing." Emphasis on should - she placed a small box of weapons that were typically unassociated with the First Order not too far from LZ1 and LZ2. "A280s, 280Cs, CR-2s, A180s, and the like."

Resistance-usual weapons, which wasn't hard to get a hold of in a Galaxy filled with the types to like to rebel and resist any kind of authority. The agent wore a fairly typical 'underground' outfit. Sahani relayed information from the briefing for the team. As far as anyone on the ground was to know, they were part of the Tholonian Resistance. The First Order officially wasn't here and never took part in the operation, the operation itself? Doesn't exist.

Once the shuttle was outside the First Order's realm of influence it launched into hyperspace with the estimated time of arrival being within the hour. Sahani looked over at the team assembled and reiterated. "Respond with force only when encountered, we're not the lead and if there are any casualties it will result in questions being asked that we don't have answers to. Remember no one, absolutely no one on the ground must know that we are anything but the Tholonian Resistance here to help over throw the Director."

Quinlan Reade | Ares Havelock | Zole | Gunnar Madine | @First Order​

 

[Vernon Hectis]

ORDER I
Vol Manufacturing


Dom felt odd being out of uniform but still serving as a stormtrooper on a combat mission, however the mission required some discretion. They were meant to blend in with the civilian protesters and only act when deemed necessary. Dom was dressed in normal, low class civial clothing. Mostly ragged and some bits were torn. Whatever it took to sell the look, he was prepared to do. He wore a cloth poncho so that he could discreetly carry a pair of blaster pistols in case their use was needed.

The LZ was safe, hidden from view from any opposition. The Vol Manufacturing plant was to his rear and the planned rendezvous point was several clicks away. Dom swiftly moved with the nearby crowd and towards the checkpoint. There would be several members of the resistance awaiting him should everything go according to plan. Dom was prepared should there be any mishaps. It would be illogical and against his training to believe everything would go perfectly.

 

[Gotz Redwall]

Resurgent Narrative, Ares Havelock, Quinlan Reade, Zole , Gunnar Madine, Delilah Graham, DG-4582


It had taken a bit of luck to get him on this op. As far as the First Order was concerned, Redwall was still on a trial period of sorts. His command was restricted to the Free Korps that had been with him during his mercenary days, and his responsibilities were, for the moment, quite lax. The brief retraining period had been about as uneventful as he'd expected, and the paperwork that followed only served to exacerbate his general sense of boredom.

Fortunately for Redwall, his devout hatred of Selectivists was a well known aspect of his character. Worker's Republics: People's Brigades, Communes, Anarchistic Defense Councils, Syndicalist Unions, they were all symptoms of a sickness of the mind, and the only cure that ever seemed to work was a merciful bolt to the back of the head. He'd spent the majority of his mercenary years putting similar groups down for more democratic powers, though he was not fond of their systems either. His beliefs led to an encrypted message being left in his inbox asking for specialists with experience dealing with such groups, and he'd opted to respond personally.

To do so in the name of a regime he ideologically supported would be a merciful change of pace, not to mention the prospect of proving his worth as a solo operator to his new overlords.

Clad in a simple black hoodie and cargo pants, Redwall looked to be an average, albeit poorly dressed university student. He carried only a verpine shattergun disassembled into its constituent parts hidden in his many pockets. The Brigadier-to-be remained silent through the briefing, and retained his closed lips on the shuttle ride below.

"Well," he muttered after Agent Sahani spoke her piece, finally breaking his silence. "Hope the Tholonians speak basic, or I'm going to be the group mute here." Not funny. Not really even a joke. Redwall chuckled quietly to himself anyway.

 

[Phoenix Edorath]

ORDER I: LZ 1 - Kennet Industrial
Soundtrack: Disturbed “This Venom”

One of the first to hit the ground at the landing zone, Phoenix stood slightly apart from the others, smoldering gaze cast down to her neatly arranged kit. Each piece was in pristine condition and she knew it, but she reflexively checked each item and her unmarked armor. Because of the nature of the operation, and her status, she was using her personal armaments, which meant her DC-17m was strapped to her back with the PEP laser attachment. She had the blaster rifle attachment stowed away along with it’s corresponding power packs, and had left the others safely stowed away back on Dosuun.

Phoenix secured her sidearm DC-15s in the holster on her left thigh, while a heavily scarred beskar blade was strapped to the right. With a deep breath and very careful movements, she opened the matte gray pack that would join the DC-17 on her back to check over the explosives one last time. She was overprepared, but it had served her well in the past to try and anticipate trouble.

And this mission was rife with the potential for it.

Subtlety wasn’t precisely Phoenix’ strong point, but she’d be able to manage just fine. Her training was extensive even after she’d emerged from the cloning tank. She spared a moment’s thought for her brothers and sisters, having lost track of them years ago, before her attention was recaptured by the arrival of more commandos. She joined the group, nodding to those assembling and setting the gray pack at her feet temporarily.

“Edorath, demolitions. Indoc period...waiting for rank and permanent assignment.” Phoenix replied to the query of one particularly broad shouldered commando who asked, then gruffly nodded.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Agent Lotus had her own morning routine, developed over the weeks since she had been confined to the royal residence. On paper, she was a guest of the Director and the Workers' Republic, kept under guard because it was unsafe for members of the First Order to be in the open, as demonstrated by the abduction of Moff Westaway on her visit. In reality, Isobel felt like a prisoner because she was one. They treated her well enough; she dined most nights with the Director and small groups of friends, and the lively debates around the dining room and drawing room after dinner were entertaining enough.

But that didn't change the facts.

Isobel was a hostage. If the First Order tried anything, the Director would have her as a bargaining chip. He'd said so once he was aware of Renata having fled the planet. "I'm glad you're still with us, Ms. Nakano," he had told her. "In case we need to continue negotiations with the First Order."

Her routine consisted of waking, checking the door which was always locked, exercising, checking the 'fresher for cameras and bugs, showering in total darkness, dressing in the drab gray clothes provided by the residence staff, taking delivery of a breakfast tray, eating. Sometimes the Director sent her out of the residence into the city to absorb propagandistic images of the happy workers, well-funded hospitals, et cetera. Otherwise, she was in left to her own devices in her quarters with nothing but TWR-approved media on the holovision and datapad to pass the time, with occasional visits from the Director himself.

She finished showering and dressed. She took delivery of the breakfast tray. Some kind of porridge this time, with buttered toast and a collection of sautéed vegetables. Isobel thanked the man who brought the tray; it was someone she'd never seen before. Perhaps her usual minder had the day off. She shut the door, heard the door lock behind her, and took the plate to the small table and sat to eat. Isobel took the napkin from the tray and flapped it open.

That was where the routine diverged.

Something thudded to the ground next to Isobel's foot. She glanced around suspiciously, then leaned down to grope for it in the low-pile carpet. Her fingers closed around something that was in places cool and metallic, in other places smooth and papery. When she pulled it into her lap, she saw a pen-knife wrapped in what looked like paper, rubber-banded together. Isobel unwrapped it, turned it over. A simple phrase was written on the paper.

Be ready today.

 

[Ryker Atreides]

Location: LZ 1 - Kennet Industrial
Objective: Make Contact with "Philomena", Resistance Contact

Ryker along with the rest of the task force had made their way towards their predetermined meeting point - a Kennet Industrial. Unlike the sprawl of refineries and manufactories in the subterranean capitol of Deephaven, this building looked more like a warehouse of sorts - maybe a distribution center? It was hard to tell from where he stood. Outside the small retaining wall. Beyond lay a yard full of heavy racks, piping, duracrete and durasteel in varying dimensions. Suspicious as always of these cut-rate militants, Sgt. Atreides didn't like it one bit. Adjusting the small satchel slung over his shoulder containing a set of workman's tools and a few cleverly disguised tools, courtesy of the FOSB, he took a few steps towards the lot behind. Up ahead it appeared there was some sort of entry control point - like where customers would go to pick up their bulk orders. It was a good a place as any to start and with the codephrase they'd been given it would make the most sense. Inside the small booth tapping furiously at a small datapad Ryker saw a woman clad in a deep blue worksuit, grease and grime well settled in, her hair pulled back loosely. Ryker himself was clad in a dark green jacket made of synthetic mesh, deep brown cargo pants and some well worn work boots completed the appearance of a standard line worker, contractor, or some other such trade. Making his way over he waved first, attempting to catch the eye of the woman before he spoke.

"I was told I could find help with an order back here, Invoice number Aurek One Seven Two?"

-

Location: LZ 1 - Kennet Industrial, Cargo Yard
Objective: Make Contact with First Order Task Force

Philomena had been busy digging into a string of bothersome orders, orders containing parts or supplies that had been on backorder for months. Unfortunately as one of the line level supervisors it was her responsibility to keep their customers in the loop and happy until those parts finally did come in. The Ssi-Ruuvi Invasion hadn't helped put them on a level playing field with anyone and since, the sudden rise of the TWR had only thrown things more into chaos. At least, that's what it seemed like sometimes. With a sigh she punched in a few updates on the particular invoice she was viewing. Before she could move on to the next one an unfamiliar voice accosted her where she sat. Looking up she saw a man approaching.

"Yeah, give me a second to look that..." She hesitated. Aurek One Seven Two. This was it. That was the codephrase. "..right up for you." A shiver arced down her spine. It was no surprise of course that today was the day but she hadn't expected it this soon? Perhaps it was simply fear eating away at the bottom of her stomach, fear of the violence, fear of the repercussions should they fail. It could have been any number of things but now was not the time for them. Mock tapping the datapad a few times more she stood, stepping out and giving the man a once over. Average height. Jet black hair. Brown eyes. This was one of the men who was going to help them throw off their chains of oppression at the hands of the Tholonian Worker's Republic? She scoffed inwardly. "I'll have to run this in the back, hold on a second here. You have enough hands to carry it out or will you need a sled?" she inquired. So far she'd only seen the one but that wasn't all they sent. No, they had been promised that able soldiers would be sent not a lone wolf. If she could get a head count on their numbers she might be able to better relay the plan and get them moving quicker. A quick glance at her wrist chrono revealed they were reaching crunch time.

Adjusting her gaze across the yard she raised her voice authoritatively. "Herold! Come man the yard, I've got a tricky one I have to process in the back!" The man working a short distance away, presumably Herold, grunted and waved a hand before slowly lurching his way over. "These damn systems are way past using - we'd have better luck using paper!" he grumbled, slumping into the seat she'd vacated.

"Follow me then, you'll want to have your friends come too - it's not light." she said, referring to the 'Order'.

-

Letting loose a shrill whistle, Ryker turned on his heel back towards the street and waved. "Let's go folks, I'm not paying you for nothing!"

 

[Ares Havelock]

The Director sat behind his desk and steepled his fingers as he absorbed the security briefing he'd just been given. According to the security chief's discussion, the orbital stations had gone offline for a quarter hour due to a power cycling malfunction. It was a known issue with the orbital stations and had happened before, but there was something about this occurrence that set him on edge. After his run-in with Renata Westaway and the First Order, he was constantly looking over his shoulder.

He shifted in his seat, leaning forward to take his cup of coffee in his hands. He took a sip and then set it down again. "Let's double the patrols in the royal residence," he said. "And I want strict surveillance in the city until we can confirm there's nothing amiss. Let's step up the sweeps, too. Anyone on our list, bring them in. No questions, just bring them in."

"As you say, Director," the security chief said, bowing slightly.

The Director frowned and gazed at the wall opposite his desk, curiously silent for a few moments as he lifted his coffee to his lips again to drain the cup. As he set the cup down, he focused once more on the security chief. "Check on our guest," he said slowly, referring to Isobel Nakano. "Keep her close, because we may have need of her."

Gunnar Madine | Quinlan Reade | Zole | Phoenix Edorath | Gotz Redwall | DG-4582 | Resurgent Narrative

 

[Zole]

Ryker Atreides Phoenix Edorath

KENNET INDUSTRIAL
Commando Fireteam:

• Jarrick: young human male
• Farqee: middle aged female rodian

"[See them up on the left?]" Farqee asked quietly.

His Fireteam weren't far behind Ryker. They'd hired a small van on an account registered to someone who definitely did not exist. They'd pulled up a short distance from the meeting point and left Jarrick with the van.

"Yup, I see them," Kaelan replied. People working in warehouses didn't normally keep by the upper windows to watch the approach. This was the place.

They both wore hivis jackets. People didn't tend to stop plain vans and people in hi-vis jackets. They couldn't afford to be stopped given that they had weapons, ruggedised C2 terminals and ammunition in the van. Not enough to start a war, but enough to cause some mischief whilst sharing the love with the locals.

"[If this isn't the place you realise we're screwed]," she added.

"Yup."

He heard Ryker's shrill whistle and saw him waving some others forward. He felt a small knot of tension ebb out of his shoulders. Kaelan turned and waved for Jarrick to bring up the van. It slowed just enough for him to grab the rear door, place his foot on the lip of the door and ride it past the checkpoint.

They parked up the van inside. Definitely the place. Armed rebels, portable terminals running off a small generator on a table. Projection of the city with key markers being laid out.

"Any later and I think we might have missed the party."

 

[Ryker Atreides]

Location: LZ 1 - Kennet Industrial
Objective: Contact made with "Philomena", Determine Plan of Attack/Execute

The woman led them through the facility, turning down a corridor to the left which opened up to a large conference room. At least, that's what it looked like it had been turned into, various bits of machinery and tools had been shifted to the side to allow for a makeshift table made of plywood to fill the center. "We're safe here, away from prying eyes." the woman spoke over her shoulder as she took up position on the opposite side of the table, her hands resting on its edge. "If you look here..." she pointed. On the table a clutter of objects, tools, and various pieces of packaging filled the surface. "Here's where we are." she said, pointing to a dented canister. As she continued talking the picture began to take form - this was a sandtable. Well, not literally but it was a somewhat crude but accurate three dimensional map of Deephaven. A valuable resource. Even the First Order Intelligence reports hadn't been able to fully or accurately map the city due to its underground nature coupled with the extreme interference from the massive industrial work. The woman began laying out the plan, moving small batteries or objects to indicate the movements of their fighters or in one case a lorry.

Their target was the Capitol Annex, a large and walled facility where the heart of Tholonian Government had once called home - of course now it was occupied by The Director and his Cronies. Though, it was doubtful that The Director was there, his trusted lieutenants and no doubt the cogs in his machine would be housed there. Their end goal was to seize it and hold it - a touch symbolic for Ryker's taste but this wasn't his op. The plan seemed solid, they'd traverse via hover sled to one of the long narrow alleys perpendicular to the annex's wall. From there, they'd breach the annex and hopefully seize the main hall without much resistance. A nagging feeling in the back of his skull bothered the commando though. That narrow alleyway. It was the perfect approach but it was also a proper bottleneck. "Any questions?" Philomena's voice cut through his internal musings.

"What about that?" he spoke up, pointing at the alleyway in question amidst the mess on the table. "Not a fan of this bottleneck here, what's to keep The Director's forces from establishing an ambush?" It was subtle but a flash of concern made itself known upon the woman's face. "That won't be a problem, you'll have to trust me. We've had men embedded with The Director for months. It won't be a problem." Her dismissal was frustrating to the Commando, something didn't sit well with him - but he didn't really have a choice did he? The sled they'd be pushing was equipped with a massive drilling laser, it was with that they'd breach the wall provided they could navigate the alley without contact. "We step in five." he said decisively, defying their orders to merely 'follow'. With a wave of his hand he motioned for the First Order complement to follow him just outside the door.

"Something doesn't feel right about that alleyway. I've seen tactical deficiencies before but there's something more." He didn't need to spell it out for them, they were all somewhat experienced and they all knew that if something didn't look right, didn't feel right, there was a reason for it. An almost supernatural sense for danger. "Heads on a swivel. Gather what you need now, you heard it - we step in five. "

Zole | Phoenix Edorath​