Propaganda

[huggin_munnin]

"FETHING!," Ceska bit off her profanity being forced to leap out of the way. The spider-like droid had opened up on her position and rapidly chewed away at the crates. Bolstered by the Force, she leapt a full 10 meters away, smoothly landing on her toes. The Padawan immediately sprayed bolts indiscriminately as she ran for the cover of more crates.

"Fantastic," she growled as the blaster clicked when she went to fire again. Looking down, she saw that she'd expended the clip with her burst and it would need a couple of minutes to recharge enough to be fired again. She sighed and muttered "So much for hiding" as she slid her lightsaber hilt into her hand after holstering the blaster. Just then, the most welcome sound in the world picked up around her.

Looking up, Ceska grinned as she saw Thane pull around and open up on the crates where Cylus Jest hid. "On the way," Ceska said to Drexel over the comm and raced back towards the lowered ramp under his covering fire. To an ordinary being, she would've appeared to be a blur and she launched herself at the ramp. Landing in a crouch, she grabbed the nydraulic beside her for balance. "Okay, I'm in, Benefactor!"

[member="Thane Drexel"]@Detritus@Cylus Jest[member="Urya Uvatera"][member="Charlene Adaska"][member="Cyril Grayson"][member="Cyrene Miles"][member="Hans Vaiden"]

 

[Hans Vaiden]

It was only then that Hans and his newest mechanical companion got into the armored speeder that Detritus's message came through. It had been broadcasted across all Imperial channels and bore the priority warning that outranked even junior officers, though it compared nothing to something the Captain himself would've sent out. The driver glanced at the assassin droid as it swiftly moved to occupy the passenger seat.

Hans was in the back. "Uh, driver, how come we aren't moving already?" Green eyes narrowed at the uniformed man, "Go."

It didn't take much more than the slight vocal ushering to shift the fellow into gear. The landspeeder peeled out of its parking spot and gained altitude, drifting well over several residential areas before descending back down to the grassy terrain. The HK-51 cocked its brown-orange cranium to face the Captain. "Query: Will this be a possible situation to prove my abilities, master? I can be most efficient."

The Captain gave a slight nod.

"Statement: I will need access to your armory, master. I require heavy rifles, sniper rifles, or anything ranged will allow me to operate at maximum efficiency. Once that's done, shall I kill something for you?"

"Be my guest," Hans snorted. "Wait, I actually think we might have a few of those things in the back. This is a military speeder after all."

He gave a groan and bent back over the seat, pulling away his crash webbing. Hans grabbed one of the larger rifles and heaved it up, pulling it back and over the seat to hand it to the happily expectant droid. The assassin looked over the weapon and spoke with a metallic drone.

"Observation: A280 blaster rifle, high-power blaster rifle with reports of decimating targets. Very powerful, master, very acceptable."

The officer gave the thing a curt grin. "I'm glad you like it. Now it's time to try it out."

The driver said something and pointed, noting the facility and the outline of it growing bigger and bigger. Some starship was buzzing about and a few stray blaster bolts could be seen cutting through the air. Hans shot air out of his nose, attempting to calm the frenzy that had just taken hold of his heart.

[member="Detritus"], [member="Thane Drexel"], [member="Cylus Jest"], [member="Urya Uvatera"], [member="Ceska Starshield"], [member="Charlene Adaska"], [member="Cyrene Miles"], [member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

Cyril took her half by surprise as he pulled her close. Cyrene was a fairly straightforward creature. When she was working she was working, and to suddenly have romance thrown into the mix threw her off a little bit. Still, the area was secure and she had missed him, so she not only allowed it, she reciprocated. When they pulled away she could feel the colour in her cheeks.

Down girl, day ain't over yet. Rein it in.

It was at about this moment she caught the reaction of the Mirialan who'd followed in one his tail. She didn't react with possessiveness, jealousy or suspicious, but concern. She had no concerns about how Cyril felt about her or what they were to each other. Short though their relationship had been, it was solid. What concerned her was the possible actions of a heartbroken girl on a dangerous mission. Still, the girl wasn't left on her own at least.

Cyril made his request and the Snipers lips thinned, face grim again, any giddiness lost. Almost immediately the sound of shots being exchanged could be heard from outside. That was unexpected and unlucky. Had she slipped up somewhere? Still, better her disabling a vehicle than it getting to the Outpost and lives being lost. It upped the danger to her personally however. She'd quite frankly intended to shoot herself once Cyril and his lot arrived, so she'd be out just as cold as the rest of them after they left and the Imperials arrived. Now she was going to be on active sniping duty. The chances of her being identified had just sky-rocketed.

But what was she going to do? Tell him no?

Now a broadcast, small and tinny could be heard coming from the helmet on her belt. She stiffened slightly. Well that about decided it didn't it? She nodded once.

"Ayuh. I can do that. Broadcast's thatta way. Best hoof it, y'got friends coming."

She moved then, no time for affection. Back to duty. Heading for the stair. Up, to the Snipers pit. Or lookout when there were no Snipers present. Reaching it, she pulled off the chest-piece of her armour. The helmet was already off, now there was less chance that if seen visually she'd be immediately identified as a stormtrooper. Dropping, switching to her rifle, she scanned throw the small gunners slit around the bottom of the pit. Watching in the direction, reinforcements would come from. Hopefully the rebels would be gone before they arrived. Hopefully she could gear up. Hopefully she could avoid being found as a traitor.

'S a damned lot of hope. Ain't no one ever managed t'live offa hope yet, and a hellova lot of 'em have tried.

 

[Dish]

Cyril had wanted to avoid casualties, but bringing Dish along, now that just screwed the whole damn idea. Beneath the weight of his kukri slumped an Imperial soldier, the durasteel blade having carved through flesh and bone. As the white armored soldier's comrade turned on his heel to face the dark figure, the man froze. It was a momentary pause, but the sight of the etched in skull spattered in blood was enough to scare him into delay. Dish promptly shot the man. Twice.

As the Stormtrooper collapsed Dish kept his mind on the mission. "Where do you need me?" The Dread Guard questioned, sheathing the knife and kicking aside the limp corpse.

The writer had done significantly more. But his computer was a jerk.

@Detritus @Thane Drexel [member="Cylus Jest"] [member="Urya Uvatera"] [member="Ceska Starshield"] [member="Charlene Adaska"] [member="Cyril Grayson"] [member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Darth Eversor]

After Detritus' suspicions were confirmed about the garrison, he knew that there was only one other place around that the Jedi would have use for; the communications outpost which was about 7 kilometers away from his current position. He needed to maneuver quickly if he were to catch the intruders in time. With one final message, Detritus rallied the Stormtroopers together as he began exiting the garrison itself. A low-altitude transport unit would be their means of confrontation. Lifting off from a landing pad, they began their approach.

After a few moments of flying, they arrived just outside of the communications tower with the intent on blasting the Jedi and his crew - but there hovering just above the skirmish that was occurring was what Detritus assumed to be enemy transport. The low-altitude vehicle turned towards its side, revealing a group of Stormtroopers armed with mainly T-21 light repeating blasters - the rest with standard weaponry and sticky grenades.

Without a moment more of hesitation, Detritus slowly raised his left hand and pointed towards the hovering craft.

"Open fire."

In unison, there was a cacophony of blasters going off as they all aimed towards the target with full intent to kill. The creation himself rappelled down from the ship and sprinted towards the rest of the fighting, drawing his lightsaber staff and igniting only one side with a snap-hiss. The monstrosity for some reason favored using the staff more like a large sword rather than the acrobatic measures most seemed to demonstrate in combat. His first target was the Jedi himself, but first it looked like he had a few more heads to choose from. Detritus would need to fight through the others to finally destroy his prey...

Standing in the open, the monstrosity awaited any takers. His left hand went up into a fist as a sign for half of the Stormtroopers to begin alternating fire onto the hostiles in the open. The other half still focusing on the enemy craft.

[member="Dish"] [member="Cyril Grayson"] [member="Hans Vaiden"] [member="Cyrene Miles"] [member="Ceska Starshield"] [member="Thane Drexel"] [member="Urya Uvatera"] [member="Charlene Adaska"] [member="Cylus Jest"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

Dammit. The Lartie had come in too high for her to detect until it dropped in and opened fire on the Rebels ship, moving the Sniper lined her rifle up. She didn't want to destroy the ship, but if she could get a good shot at one of the repulsor lift turbines in it's wing... Send it off balance but not out of the sky, that should slow it and it's crew of.. Well, the men and women she'd trained beside and was supposed to be serving beside.

She hated this duplicity and deception. Cyril wanted to fight the Sith, but as predicted, it wasn't the Sith who were involved in this fight.

"Hain't no point backin' out now, yer innit up t'yer tits, can't get much dirtier, may as well press on."

She commented quietly to herself, and then stilled, eye on the scope. Moving the muzzle of the rifle slightly, tracking, trying to get the perfect shot. The Lartie swung around slightly to allow a better fire arc for the troopers within it.

There.

Face still, the Snipers finger twitched, and the rifle roared. She didn't bother to stay on target. Her aim was good, her aim was always good. The chance of her missing something like a ship at this range was just about nil. Her rifle moved. For a moment she caught [member="Detritus"] in her scope.

No.

Her rifle was a slugthrower. There was no stun option. She'd hold her fellow Imperials off for Cyril, but she wasn't shooting them. There were what? Three Rebels on the ground and fighting down there? Surely they could hold one man off long enough for Cyril to send out his mission.

And if'n they can't?

No point worrying about that until it happened. One foot in front of the other.

[member="Hans Vaiden"] [member="Dish"] [member="Ceska Starshield"] [member="Cyril Grayson"] [member="Thane Drexel"] [member="Urya Uvatera"] [member="Charlene Adaska"] [member="Cylus Jest"]

 

[Charlene Adaska]

So much noise. It was so loud and chaotic, but all Charlene could hear was the drumming of her heart. She had turned away from the two, refusing to look back. Her eyes were focused straight at the door that she was trying to lock down.

The cyborg woman was yelling about something that she honestly could not bring herself to care about. It was hard to care about any of this. She didn't ask to be here! They stole her away from her home, from a comfortable life, from a nice job at the garage, from her cozy apartment, from her friends. From everything. And now she had nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even...

"Quit your yapping and defend," she growled at the Cyborg, "I'm going to try to lock it from the inside. If you get me killed... I'll haunt you. Forever."

A stupid, half-hearted threat. Honestly, she felt dead already. She knelt down beside the heavy door, stuck up against the wall for cover. In her tool belt, she was looking for something to pry the door panel off with. Crowbar? She could make it work.

Breathe, girl. Breathe. It meant nothing. It was just one night. One stupid night. It meant nothing. You don't care.

"I don't care," she mummbled out loud, sticking one end of the crowbar between the tiny slots in the wall. With thin green tattooed arms, the Mirialan wrenched with all her strength to pop the panel off the wall. It felt good, breaking something. It felt nice to growl and grit her teeth and just wreck it. Especially now. The metal panel bent and went flying off the wall with only one try. Was she good or what?

With the crowbar safely stored in her utility belt of goodies, she set to work on re-wiring the door. She had all that she needed, from thin wire clippers to a soldering iron connected to a power pack in her belt. Charlene did not ever travel light.

 

[Placeholder 04]

It was time to send the message. His people would defend the outpost so long as they needed - hopefully with enough time for the Jedi Master to speak his mind. He have Cyrene a thankful nod, and turned toward the others.

"Dish, Urya, keep the Imperials out. Try not to harm anyone. Charlene, I'll need you to make sure the signal boosts." He explained, thumbing his lightsaber for comfort. He would have much rather helped fight off the attackers, but Cyril Grayson had a different duty to attend to. He drew in a deep breath, and strode onward into the building.

It was a short jog to the primary control room. All around, soldier lay limp. None were dead, which was a good sign. Killing the Imperials would ruin everything they were trying to do here.

He settled down on the main comm system, and keyed it online. It was set to transmit all over Balmorra in the form of an emergency announcement. It would pervade over all holovision programs - none would miss it. He keyed in his own comm signal to boost the message to the Republic. They needed to know what was going on - particularly [member="Kian Karr"].

He swallowed heavily as it began to boot up.

There is no emotion. There is no emotion.

Click.

Cyril face transmitted to six billion people at the same time. His expression was firm, albeit a bit unsettled.

"Good evening." He began. "My name is Cyril Grayson, and I come to you with a message. For seven long years, the One Sith and the Republic have been at war. A fruitless war that has only served to crush the average folk - those without the force. Since the war began, conditions for the average citizen have deteriorated rapidly. Poverty has risen dramatically. The death rates in town like Kinthar have quadrupled."

He have a moment's pause. Now would be the important part, the words that would invite revolution. "There is no fault in an Empire. Stability and security are good things. The soldiers, Stormtroopers, naval officers, medical personnel, these people are not to blame for your woes. They are victims too. Tools of a religious movement obsessed with itself. To the Sith, no one else matters."

Another pause. "I remember a time when the Stormtrooper was a champion. When people could look to their leaders with faith, knowing their actions came out of a desire to serve. To serve their Empire and its people. My father, Grand Moff Rade was one of these men. He fought alongside the Fel Imperium, spreading justice and safety across known space. There was no religious oppression, there were no gods among men. You served the people, and you reaped the rewards of your labor."

He cast a momentary look off screen. More Imperials were coming. Hopefully they would listen.

"The Republic is not our enemy. We've built a great and just Empire under the Sith's nose. They are the only reason your sons and daughters die in this war. They are the only reason an Imperial life means absolutely nothing. They are the reason there isn't enough medication to keep a town from dying off, why Imperials are used as scapegoats for war crimes. Our enemies are the Sith Lords who would sully this great Empire, who would limit our potential to be great. This war is one of religion. They force you to raise arms against those who would have been your allies, even friends in the past."

The final blow.

"Citizens, soldiers, admirals, commanders, generals, hear me. I am not your enemy. I want to rebuild the great Empire my father bled for. Together, with the help of the Republic, we can usurp the Sith. End religious influence in our government. Bring peace to the core worlds, and become great. We outnumber them. We outgun them. We can outsmart them. End our pointless battle, and turn your guns on our mutual enemy. Join me, destroy the Sith Order, and brig about a golden age for the True Galactic Empire!"

And the feed was cut. Cyril slumped back In his chair, wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, and checked the holonet for some form of a response.


[member="Ceska Starshield"], [member="Thane Drexel"], [member="Charlene Adaska"], [member="Detritus"], [member="Hans Vaiden"], [member="Cylus Jest"], [member="Tmoxin Temi"], [member="Kyle Amedis"], [member="Urya Uvatera"], [member="Cyrene Miles"], [member="Dish"]

 

[Urya Uvatera]

SPIDER. SPIDER. SPIDER.

Well then. Urya found a phobia.

She screamed when the spider advanced. It echoed like a train whistle, mechanical whirring joining the sound of terror. Metal assembled behind her teeth, and a blaster shot jarred from a suddenly-assembled cannon from the back of her mouth. She rocked on her metal feet, suddenly realizing what just happened. She took off running from the spider, mouth jammed open by her brand new tech. Her metal legs extended, lengthening her stride.

" I have a gun in my mouth! Why do I have a gun in my mouth!?" Her tech voice squeaked over the comm. She turned to look at the spider as she ran, and the mouthy blaster squeezed off a few more shots at it. " There's a spider! I have a gun in my mouth! WHY!?"

[member="Cyril Grayson"]
[member="Charlene Adaska"]
[member="Cyrene Miles"]
[member="Detritus"]
[member="Dish"]
[member="Ceska Starshield"]

 

[Charlene Adaska]

With a tiny bit of finagling, the door was locked, heavily. She took a deep breath, stashing her equiptment away. Done. Could she go home now?
His voice cut through her thundering heartbeat like a lightsaber through warm butter. She cringed noticeably, stared at the ground and followed. Why? Shouldn't she tell him to stuff it? Apparently not. Like a stupid love-sick nexu, she followed. She avoided looking at him or the... woman, but she followed, keeping her eyes on the ground at all times. She had scuffs on her boots, oil stains on her trousers, one of her knees was ripped. When had that happened?

You're a mess girl. No wonder.

She approached, went down on her knees in front of the comm system, took out her handy crowbar again, and silently wrenched the panel off once more with one single try. It went flying and for a vague, jealous instant, she hoped it would hit his girlfriend in the face. Or him. He deserved it more than anyone. Lying, kidnapping, Jedi scum!

By all rights, she should cut a wire somewhere essential, ruin his plan. It would serve him right. But then... now all she wanted was to go home... if she still had a home to go to. Where could she go now? If she went back, she might be arrested and maybe even tortured for information. She just had to accept that her cozy life in the empire was gone now. Stolen. By them.

She gave Greyson a look that could burn holes through durasteel before laying herself on her back under the comm unit. By the time his little speech was over (which she had unfortunately heard every word of as if he screamed it directly int9o her eardrums) she had completed her work. The message would go. She was using Binkies onboard transmitter remotely to boost the signal. She had to kinda throw it together, and the images might be a little rough at times, but it would work. The audio was the important part.

She stood back up, silent as the grave as she wiped dirt and dust off her fingers onto her already trashed pants. It didn't matter. Her hair was dirty and full of cobwebs. It didn't matter. She had dust on her nose. It didn't matter.
She was angry.

It didn't matter.

"Take me home," she growled, fingers clenching her wire clippers as if she meant to break them, "Take me home. Now."

 

[Cyrene Miles]

[member="Cyril Grayson"]s voice came over her helmet, small and tinny since it was sitting beside her rather than on her head. As she listened to him, she knew her faith in him was not misplaced, not the product of a night of lust and too many hopeful thoughts. Most of her was still focused on her scope, on tracking allies and eneies and everything else on the battlefield. Part of her hung on his words though. Part of her was filled with pride and gratitude. And a little bit of shame that she hadn't thought he understood. Perhaps he didn't know what he asked of her, but he understood what she was, what she wanted.

She was a Stormtrooper. A highly trained Sniper. She served the people. Brought about safety and stability. She was not a pawn of the Sith. Not one of many faceless peons for them to throw away in their games and machinations, their personal agendas. She and her fellows had worth. Had their own hopes and dreams, were their own individuals.

The Sith, and to a similar extent the Jedi, didn't understand that you couldn't go around and build your ideal world, your own personal sandbox and plop people in it. People had to build their own world, otherwise no matter how nice it was only a cage, and places like Balmorra were decidedly not nice.

These force users with their inflated egos.. They all wanted to be the main character, the lead in the dramas that they turned their lives into. The heroes or anti-heroes. They didn't understand that real heroism was quiet, sober, grim. Undramatic. It was charactarized not by the urge to stand above others, but the urge to serve others, whatever the cost.

Cyrene had signed up to serve. She did not think of herself as a hero. Just one woman doing her duty. After all, every right was balanced by a responsibility, every opportunity with an obligation. She intended to balance her scales.

 

[Darth Eversor]

As Detritus approached the entrance to the communications outpost, he stopped in his tracks . The low-altitude ship that he arrived here in was knocked off balance by a well-placed shot - the ship began to whip around wildly, throwing Stormtroopers out the side and down into the dirt below. A couple of them managed to jump out and onto the ground near Detritus. They both took aim at the rebels on the ground and began to open fire indefinitely. Those that survived the fall did the same as they too joined their own brethren in arms.

That's when the broadcast had transmitted all across Balmorra; a message of both vigor and hopeful cause. Did this Jedi truly think he could be the single man in the galaxy that caused a revolution? Did he truly believe that he could brand this ideological sense of political power into the minds of common citizens? Of course he did. Just by listening to the tone of his words, Detritus understood this man and his desire all too well.

But could such an objectively driven creature have the willpower to tell himself no? Could he actually stop his process of seeking out the Jedi to murder him where he stood? That answer was a tricky one. The creation wanted to keep going, he wanted to destroy this intruder for the very sake of carrying out and completing his mission. That's all his duty ever was.

Throwing up another fist, Detritus ordered the soldiers under his command to stand down. He slowly lowered his left gauntlet and listened. The Stormtroopers behind the monstrosity looked upward and towards each other as they also soaked in the bold message that would surely cause some sort of reaction out of everyone listening. Human or not, the creation denied his prime directive and made his own free decision not to kill this Jedi - not yet at least. He would allow him to have his moment of respite.

For now, Detritus turned towards everyone else. He deactivated his lightsaber and placed it back upon his hip. The fighting was done, and no one else needed to die...

For now.

[member="Cyrene Miles"] [member="Cyril Grayson"] [member="Hans Vaiden"] [member="Charlene Adaska"] [member="Urya Uvatera"] [member="Dish"] [member="Ceska Starshield"] [member="Cylus Jest"]

 

[Darth Arcis]

Oh how these impotent little beings were so full of themselves. Their cause was as worthless as their haggard warrior-monk leader was. Darth Arcis had received the message almost instantaneously because he had certain economic and political holdings on Balmorra, and they had been on that planet for nearly three decades without a single thing touching them. Even when the Galactic Republic held sovereignty over it, Lussk Logistics had continued to ironically produce Star Destroyers and Imperial war machines for his own personal causes.

"Commander Aric, set a course for Balmorra. Notify the 501st Legion, tell them their marksmanship training has been forwarded." Gleaming yellow eyes peered from beneath a black cowl. The Imperial officer saluted smartly, reeling on his heels to relay the orders across the entire fleet.

Ah yes, the fleet. When you were the former Emperor of the greatest sovereign imperium to grace the galaxy, you tended to take a few things with you. Including the entire remnant of the five hundred and first, Dranok Lussk had taken it upon himself to relief the current Emperor of his former flagship: the Chimaera. Thrawn's former command vessel was what the Dark Lord stood upon this very moment, and its flanks were lined with almost a dozen other Imperial Star Destroyers.

It truly was a sight to behold.

Now some little rebel group and their pathetic leader wanted to broadcast something about the Sith's arrogance and hostility towards all civilians under their rule. This Cyril made a few good points, but Dranok wasn't in the mood to negotiate with terrorists - that was simply bad for business. No, he wanted to see this man bleed, to make an example of him and his little terror cell with the swiftest of punishments: death.

Dranok Lussk was coming.

[member="Cyril Grayson"], [member="Tmoxin Temi"], [member="Cylus Jest"], [member="Detritus"], [member="Charlene Adaska"], [member="Dish"], [member="Urya Uvatera"], [member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Thane Drexel]

[member="Cyril Grayson"] [member="Urya Uvatera"] [member="Charlene Adaska"] [member="Cyrene Miles"] [member="Detritus"] [member="Darth Arcis"] [member="Ceska Starshield"]

As Thane's transport began taking fire, he took cover inside the hold. The light repeaters pinged off the hull of the shuttle as a single concussive shot rang out and cries of fear from the stormtroopers echoed across the sky. Then the broadcast was successfully sent out. Thane heard it over the comms and felt pride swell in him that he'd been a part of this. The Sith even backed down, the one who'd accompanied the Stormtroopers.

As for the man Thane had fired upon, he did not know, the dust had yet to settle and the droid wasn't visible either. Thane ran to the cockpit and swung the ship around, he activated the party wide comm...

"Great speach Cyril, but what say we get a move on! I got a feeling the Sith won't take so kindly to us hijacking their late night soaps and telling the whole planet the Sith can suck eggs. I'm swinging in, clear a spot so we can boogy!"

The other transport made an emergency landing a ways off and the Stormtroopers seemed to be standing down for now, it was as good a time as any to get the heck outta dodge.

 

[Cylus Jest]

Cylus watched as his Rapax tore apart several crates and then watched as the Jedi sleaze leaped away, apparently healthy and unharmed. Then the shuttle pilot had launched something and with a quiet electrical shock had taken the droid down. Cylus looked up, watching as he took aim and clicked his boots together a couple of seconds before the explosive round detonated in front of him.

The heat still reached his face, and he could feel a piece of his cape ignite, but as he landed he simply patted it out before standing again. Assorted blaster bolts rained around the area he had been standing at, but he was safe for now. He needed to retaliate...but then a voice came on over his helmet com.

It held a speech, a quite nice one, probably well prepared. The speech held that there could be a destruction of the Sith...that meant an escalation of power for all of the non-Force wielders. Cylus did not wield the Force, and for a long time he had wondered what sort of power he could sway if they were no longer to exist...he couldn't pass up the chance, especially when he spotted [member="Detritus"] having his own men stand down.

Perhaps they could all be allies in the end, he held his hands away from his body slightly to show that he wasn't going to be grabbing any sort of armament, and then began to walk towards where Detritus was, hoping to stand nearby an ally as opposed to a possible hostile.
"Quite the interesting proposition, isn't it?" He asked as he once more lowered his hands.
[member="Thane Drexel"] | [member="Darth Arcis"] | [member="Cyrene Miles"] | [member="Charlene Adaska"] | [member="Urya Uvatera"] | [member="Cyril Grayson"] | [member="Hans Vaiden"] | [member="Ceska Starshield"]

 

[huggin_munnin]

Ceska had made her way up to the cockpit and seated herself in the copilot's chair. Donning a headset, she said "What's happening with Cyril and the others," to Thane. She reached out through the Force and could feel him there, as yet unharmed. There really wasn't much more than that. She had to assume the others were okay too as their presences were, as yet, still something of a blur.

The Padawan was ready to head back out at a moment's notice. Through the durasteel view screen if need be, though Drexel wouldn't like that, she thought. She'd clipped her lightsaber hilt to her belt in order to have easier access to it. Her suspicion was that Cyril and the others would be coming in under fire and a lightsaber was much more useful in that situation.

[member="Cylus Jest"][member="Thane Drexel"][member="Darth Arcis"]@Detritus@Cyrene Miles[member="Charlene Adaska"][member="Urya Uvatera"][member="Cyril Grayson"][member="Dish"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

"This is a warning to all Imperial personnel; intruder alert, I repeat, intruder alert. Arm yourselves and scan the facility. Targets are to be killed on sight."

Tmoxin was visiting an Officer’s Club in Kinthar when the above transmission blasted into the main room from an Imperial comm channel, interrupting the cigarras and whiskey the high ranking Imperial officers were enjoying in the darkened lounge. “What the…?” Tmoxin started. She glared at Sgt. Major Ulysses as though the infiltration was somehow his fault.

“Put me in touch with that outpost! I want to know what’s going on.” The rest of the club also began clearing out, radioing their own troopers for a response to the sudden emergency.

“Yes, Commander,” the Sgt. Major said, running off to contact the facility. Tmoxin quickly headed off to where the Sovereign Butterfly II was parked in a docking bay. Inside her private yacht, she went into the refresher and splashed cold water on her face, because she had had a couple of Corellian whiskeys over the space of an hour and was a little tipsy. Technically she was off-duty so if she showed up to the outpost reeking of alcohol, it would be of little notice. But she couldn’t shoot straight if she was drunk, so the Commander opened a med pack and gave herself a stimshot to clear her head.

She then donned her blue and white armor and wrapping her long, red hair into a bun, placed the stormtrooper helmet on her head. She met the Sgt. Major back at the Officer’s Club and appropriately dressed and geared, they both jumped into an awaiting land speeder and zoomed off, heading to the outpost.

[member="Cyril Grayson"] [member="Thane Drexel"] [member="Cylus Jest"] [member="Detritus"] [member="Hans Vaiden"] [member="Charlene Adaska"] [member="Dish"] [member="Urya Uvatera"] [member="Cyrene Miles"] [member="Ceska Starshield"] [member="Darth Arcis"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

There. It was done. Whatever the Imperials might think, Cyril had spoken his peace. If things went well, they might be receptive to his cause, might even join him in it. If not, the it was quite likely this facility was going to be slagged in the next few minutes.

He pushed up from his chair, and glanced over at Charlene. He felt her displeasure - the cold contempt she held for him. He'd wronged her in some way, though as to how he had no idea.

"I'll secure you a flight wherever you want after this." He promised. It was the truth, at the very least. Charlene had done enough for the cause.

He keyed in his comm to Thane.

"Aye, bring the ship around. It's time we returned to Kinthar." He agreed, breaking into a purposeful stride toward the doorway. Still, he felt something off. An electricity in the air that should not have been there. It was the acrid burn that he'd come to associate with the Dark Side. The Sith had heard him.

"We'll give the Imperials time to process things." He spoke into the group comm as he came to the door. Charlene had sealed it. That had kept them safe, but now it was an obstacle. Cyril ignited his blade, and went through the slow process of carving a man sized hole through the durasteel. The slab of metal fell to the ground with a thud.

Out stepped Cyril, shining with at he sort of pride one would not expect from a Jedi. He would never speak of it, but the Empire was in his blood. His father was the last Grand Moff to stand up to the Sith Lords, a man who led his soldiers with a conviction unmatched by any other. In a way, Cyril felt as if he was fulfilling his legacy.

The soldiers had stopped firing. They all stood, awaiting whatever this relative stranger might have to say. If he made the wrong move, they would surely put him down.

"The time for revolution is coming my friends. A time to take back out lands from the Sith - a time for our sacrifices, the blood of our friends, our sister, our brother, our mothers and fathers to mean something more than another conquest for a group of genocidal madmen!"

He thumped his fist to his chest.

"Spread the word. The time of the Sith is coming to an end. The rise of the Empire is nigh, we must stand united to bring it about."

He stood there as Thane's ship would find area to land. It was an effort to buy time for the others to leave - and hopefully bring these Imperials to his side of the camp.


[member="Ceska Starshield"], [member="Thane Drexel"], [member="Charlene Adaska"], [member="Detritus"], [member="Hans Vaiden"], [member="Cylus Jest"], [member="Tmoxin Temi"], [member="Kyle Amedis"], [member="Urya Uvatera"], [member="Cyrene Miles"],

 

[Dish]

"I'll do my best." Dish lied through his teeth in response to [member="Cyril Grayson"], pumping off a few shots into a group of stormtroopers from behind a group of crates. Then the fighting stopped. Just like that it stopped. Lowering the DB-08 the titan looked at the stormtroopers who now stared back at him. For a moment the troops were lost in thought, but then from behind the sockets in their respective visors the two breeds of soldier locked eyes.

They were ideal enemies, they wore their white armor, pristine and well kept, while his was black and battered. The darkness only stopped at the crimson of his shoulder plate and the skull of his visor accentuated the fearsome armor worn by the soldier. But now that Cyril had spoken, the rush of adrenaline subsided.

Grayson wanted to rebuild and renew the likes of the Fel Imperium. It wasn't a terrible prospect, Dish remembered the Fel's fondly enough. Order and peace were all good, but the trooper was a soldier of the Republic and nothing else, it was his only purpose in life, what he was bred for. Regardless it was time too leave. Pulling the pin on a cylindrical canister and tossing it forward, black smoke began to belch from the device. Following up another device sailed through the smoke and at the feet of the troopers, flashing brightly and thundering in their ears before they could react.

Slinking away into the shadows the armored figure pinged his location to [member="Thane Drexel"] and company as he moved away, ducking into an alley as wild blaster shots flew over his shoulder. Opening a line to [member="Urya Uvatera"], Dish sighed. "Ready to go?" He inquired, his tone far more friendly than it usually was around the group as 52 simply wanted to go home now that the fighting was done and wait it out. However, something gave him a feeling the conflict had only begun.

Cylus Jest Urya Uvatera Ceska Starshield Charlene Adaska Cyril Grayson Cyrene Miles [member="Darth Arcis"] [member="Detritus"] [member="Cyrene Miles"] [member="Tmoxin Temi"] [member="Hans Vaiden"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

The fighting stopped. Mostly. For now. Keeping Cyril in her sights to ensure no one tried anything funny, the Sniper started pulling her armour back on properly. A ceasefire didn't mean they were all friends.

Helmet in place, the sniper carefully set her rifle aside, as if someone else had been using it, took several steps away, raised her blaster pistol, made sure it was still on stun and raising her chin without hesitation shot herself in the body-gloved neck. She crumpled.

Waking up was not going to be fun, but if possible she still didn't want her part in this known.