Reinforcements

[Placeholder 04]

Kinthar was not particularly safe, but it was the most welcoming town in Sith space. The people of Kinthar was mostly Republic loyalists, though they kept that allegiance secret in public, considering the fact that a large Imperial garrison was active only three miles away.

Stormtroopers, Imperial Officers, and on the rarest occasion, even Sith came through the dingy little town. Recently it had been on lockdown due to rebellious activity - Cyril and his allies had staged a raid on the garrison, retrieved vital vaccines from within, and delivered them to the populace.

The Imperials were unhappy, but the citizens were ecstatic. The death rate had fallen dramatically in a number of days, going from six to one, and those moralities were not usually medically related.

The Imperial helped to keep the local Collocoids busy too, so for now, Kinthar could breath. It was the perfect time to draw in some allies an expand operations.

Such allies were to arrive in Kinthar's single spaceport around noon. Cyril waited within one of the dome shaped hangar bays. No one else was scheduled to use this specific hangar - the entire place had been put on reserve.

That was done by the cell's technical expert, a lovely cyborg by the name of Urya. The errant Jedi Master would have to thank her later.

He was clad in a simple leather jacket with a gray hoodie underneath, black pants, and combat boots. A single DC-15 sidearm hung at his hip - if he carried any lightsabers, they were well concealed. He'd asked for capable agents - force knew what 'ol Gen had actually sent him.

Ceska Starshield Jinelu D'ysedri

 

[Jinelu D'ysedri]

The shuttle landed awkwardly, tilting left then right as the rookie pilot did his best. She turned her eyes down the cabin and towards the cockpit where the pilot sat. Probably his first flight, or one of his first, outside of the simulators. The harness was tight against her chest, and when the onboard signal alerted her it was safe to unclasp her buckles, she did so quickly. She had been designated through the appropriate channels, taking a trio of civilian transports until she arrived planet-side. Her credentials listed her as non-Republic, and she looked the part of any core-world 'civie.'

She wore the latest fashion from Coruscant, garbed in several layers of cloth. She wore a basic form-fitting white and grey tunic and trousers, with an open-robe draped over her shoulders that fell to her knees, with the collar coming up around her neck. Beneath the robe was a holster at her hip, a DL-18 blaster pistol. It wasn't much, but she made sure to avoid using a Republic-affiliated blaster.

She was unsure if her superior office on this mission had received her file, but if he had, he would likely find it disturbingly odd. A being who was thousands of years old, so old in fact she had served not only during the Galactic Civil War, but old enough she no longer remembered the year of her birth, or her age. Yet she looked no older than perhaps twenty. Cloning, that was the singe answer. Her species were cloned, and when they died, their experiences, memories, consciousness, was downloaded into a blank-slate clone of themselves. This was briefly mentioned in her file.

For all intents and purposes; she was as green as grass. Her experiences dated centuries ago, and her skills had been forgotten with a lack of use. Though some things she had not forgotten, navigation, astrology, these things made her useful as a pilot - even if she herself had not been in the cockpit for some time. She was sure she could still fly, but if she went up against a few Imperial aces, well, she wasn't so certain of her abilities. Nonetheless, she was one of the few assets they could hand out at the time, and for now, it didn't require any starfighting. At least, until they could smuggle in her starfighter.

She stood and reached for her duffle bag, carrying it at her side. The hiss of the doors bounced through the cabin and the smell of fresh air was welcome to her senses. She walked down the provided stairs that unfolded from the shuttle, and quickly eyed her superior office. It would be inappropriate to salute, given the circumstances, so she simply nodded. "Jinelu D'ysedri."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Unlike many other Jedi, Cyril understood the general military etiquette. Such things tended to happen when you had been the leader of a military movement for a number of years. Ession was no longer under his jurisdiction, but the experience could never be taken from him.

He eyed this woman as she came down the steps wearily. He knew next to nothing about her race save for the fact that they were ridiculously long lived. Her records showed involvement in the galactic civil war, but beyond that he was either too busy or too prone to privacy to delve deeper. He knew what he needed to know, and if this woman decided to disclose anything further, it would be her choice.

He was just happy to have a trained pilot in Kinthar. The others had no idea as to this addition to the team - they did not need to. He trusted his teammates to follow orders, he did not trust them to be right lipped. Especially Charlene...that woman he would have to watch.

"Cyril Grayson." He reached forward with a hand, and offered a small, albeit warm smile.

"You'll forgive me if I don't wave my lightsaber around. Bit of a beacon for trouble around here. You can speak freely until we walk through those doors." He gestured toward the doorway leading to the spaceport terminal. "This bay is clear of bugs. Not too many other places in Kinthar are."










[member="Jinelu D'ysedri"]

 

[Dish]

"Name's Dish, sir."

Clad in similarly discreet attire, the Jorin-clone was one of the few left of the single one-million soldier batch created in the waning days of the Sith Empire to help finish the old thing off. His gear, which was neatly stored in the two bags slung over his shoulders, wasn't the Dread Guard issued material, but it also clearly wasn't civilian, the soldier bore the look a well funded mercenary with some more personal aesthetics.

He'd signed up for this, deniable operations and such, when he became one of the legendary Dread Guard, the assignment he was on now was just another operation to him, an extended operation, but an operation. It was also his forte, guerrilla warfare, hit and run, stealth. The latter skill came largely from the fact that he was force dead, a fact [member="Cyril Grayson"] would've likely already picked up on.

Dish glanced over to [member="Jinelu D'ysedri"], who was for all intents and purposes, a complete unknown to him, he'd never seen the species before, but then again when one was bred for war they didn't typically go studying all the species in the galaxy, only the ones they were tasked with killing. So this would be interesting.

 

[huggin_munnin]

"Ceska," said the Padawan, approaching the group from the stairway a couple of minutes later.

"Ceska Starshield. This is the Kinthar tour group?"

She was using a code phrase that she had been told to use on the way to Balmorra. In place of her usual Jedi robes and tunic, she wore a plain coat of dark brown leather, simple black trousers and an off-white shirt. In short, she could've passed for pretty much any traveler or trader. Especially considering her lightsaber was up her right sleeve and a standard E-9 blaster pistol was in it's place on her hip.

Her eyes scanned the group, appearing relaxed, but tensed and ready...just in case.

[member="Dish"]
[member="Cyril Grayson"]
[member="Jinelu D'ysedri"]