[[OOC: Written from phone. Will format later. Lost internet, apologies.]]
Sullust;
Ground Level;
Objective Hunting.
[member="Malcom Renolds"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Althea Raxis"] | [member="Gillian Katar"] | [member="Ultimatum"] | [member="Xavka Duquo"]
Each operation seemed to go more and more smoothly, the Conglomerate’s men and women acting the part of rather buffered soldiers, undertaking and completing objectives just about as quick as the proxy droid could assign them. The beasts fell, the enemies fell, their ships ripped spiraling smoke trails through the sky, Sphere fighters in rapidly declining trajectory leading them into the heated ground. Explosion lined the battle’s perimeter, debris from machinery removing whole arms at once, guttural halves of someone’s face, or just enough to turn an eye into spoiled slush. The un-uniform display of Conglomerate vessels lined the sky, sweeping in on the retreating enemy. Bulky, heavy carrier class ships with rounded edges flung themselves into the sky, some of them brandished with the circular Stratus Sphere insignia, others devoid of any public affiliation. Identifiable or not, the enemy fell almost as quickly as they swooped from opening hangars, Conglomerate laser fire opening up hulls and dumping their sentient cargo in squealing flames. Each raining body crunched horribly in contact with Sullust’s black rock surface, breaking into unnatural angles and splayed bits of duraplast light armor. Sphere soldiers were dropping quickly, their numbers now rallied by some kind of nervous mayhem, guns blazing in double time, though with nigh half the intended accuracy.
Matsu and hers seemed to fair well for themselves, removing their assigned threats with little problem over all and moving on quicker than even Detox could properly keep up with. There was something to be said for the force, the real force, as registered in organic cells. Even while it was programmed with explicit caution in mentioning its own short comings, the droid seemed envious of the sorcerer’s powers. Xenia hadn’t mentioned much anything specific about midi-chlorians in her programming, she knew little about the subject as a whole— in fact it was probable that Detox had collected more data on force sensitives and the traits they displayed in combat than its designer and creator herself. After all, it was able to mimic the Jedi in their lightsaber forms, assimilate what it looked like to have the force in an impressive act of mechanical might. Detox was able to find numerous recognizable faces as they all converged on the entrance points, Matsu, Malcom from the mercenary findings, Gillian and Xavka too, each striving in their push to explore.
White noise greeted Detox upon entry of the tunnels, a thick coil of service motors and power generators. The energetic markings continued to raise, some massive power was being compressed and stored here, so much so that Detox’s visual information began to receive static interference and open up default re-launch programs on most internal scanners. Those ahead, the enemy, the foolish Sphere, were all but revolted when Detox first cast them a glance. Their hands clasped their heads and their feet swung in drunken circles, fear plastered on their faces as visible even through helmets and visors. More of the Sith’s magic, to which Detox couldn’t argue was unnaturally proficient. Even so, those who were strong enough to push off the barrages were met with striking blaster fire and the incomprehensible whirr of a lightsaber’s edge. Matsu’s image faded from the droid’s intra-personal holo imaging projection modules and it became the sleek, stark presence of a cold predator once more. Like a slender but massive human, black and long, strangely sentient and always watching you without the presence of any detectable ‘eyes.’
Dropping the last of eight armored men guarding the final tunnel entrance and stepping over bodies without regard for what the corpses used to be, or who. <<They’re falling back,>> Detox said in nearing Matsu’s back, watching as those before her writhed until dropping, their minds exhausted by whatever spell she had placed upon them, deteriorating them on a battlefield where they couldn’t fight back. <<Most of the Sphere’s stellar combat fleet just made for space. By the looks of it they’ll meet a swift end against Conglomerate blockades, their shields and formations were ill advised.>> Just as Xenia had expected the droid noted, but did not speak. Neither Matsu nor Detox itself needed any reassurance of Xenia’s predictions and prowess, in fact Detox often assimilated Xenia’s own image and combat orientation, trying its best to think like her.
<<Something’s interfering with my scanners.>>
A blaster nearly caught Detox’s jaw and removed it, mere inches removed, sending the droid howling silently backwards and into cover. It clambered until its back hit the first of seven large durasteel containment crates labeled as carrying AX-40 hyperdrive components, a generic build meant for easy installment in a wide variety of open market craft. Larger than the droid, each container provided perfect cover, their weight keeping them in place as newly arriving Sphere resistance began peppering their location with long ranged scouting rifles. Pushing its head out from behind cover, weapon in hand, Detox marked three, then five targets on its targeting computer, photoreceptors honing in on the key details. The make of their weapons and armor, their formations, the very way they shot and in how rapid a succession. It seemed that the distance was merely an obstacle in and of itself, as the Sphere soldiers made no attempt at stealth, screaming and shouting their threats towards the onslaught of incoming invaders. <<Xavka, at my back.>> Then, without speaking, Detox forged a connection to that which it could commune with most easily. Another droid, Ultimatum, a model Xenia had spoken very highly of— a rarity of its own.
<<Detox to Ultimatum, requesting fire support.>>
Without wasting time, Detox shot forward, scattering over smoking droid frames and dropped blaster tech, skidding to a stop only upon arriving at a large wall mounted control terminal. First glances from any slicer of value would indicate that this terminal was most likely in charge of many internal workings, the doors, the coms, everything the Stratus Sphere had considered their own in the previous weeks. A crude slam and the doors kicked open, sliding into one another and unfolding in the wall. With them, alarms, screeching alarms, red lights in a strobing anxious flutter. Detox’s slicing apparatus had been bolstered greatly by Xenia’s own data-worm infiltration encryptions, though it was a far cry from Xenia herself and hadn’t managed to complete the job without tripping the base’s mundane defense protocols.
<<Turbolifts go down three levels in total with separate lifts granting hangar bay access.>>
An end all be all defense program locked Detox out of the terminal interface, but the droid turned as if bored, already having gleaned what information it had gone in looking for. Turning in absent regard for the terminal or the alarms, Detox continued to update Matsu. More blasters seemed to curl in from behind the once closed doors, what remained of the Sphere’s fringes, the guards to whatever secret couldn’t be flown off in cargo vessels or moved in retreat. <<All doors on this level and the level below have been opened, and we should have full access to all lifts.>> Matsu, the one to which Detox reported its findings, was hard pressed to let even a single bolt past her, swatting them back onto the enemies who shot them with deadly accuracy and precision.
<<Xiangu, I can’t rationalize sending in my troops when the terrain is so unknown. The energy readings alone are strange, and enough to cripple even my scanning devices— I’m limited to visual systems if I wish to operate on any optimal level. Proposed resolution, we devise a smaller scouting cell and infiltrate while our real numbers wait above, ready to reinforce us if needed.>>
Sullust System;
Over Sullust;
The Fleet.
[member="Danger Arceneau"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"] | [member="Alric Kuhn"] | [member="Alicia Drey"] | [member="Tmoxin Temi"]
Command Bridge;
Commander Simpit.
“Understood,” Simpit added bluntly. Then “I’m sending you docking information now. Please stand by for further orders.” Simpit couldn’t help but make it sound as if she were ordering miss Arceneau around, her own ego damaged by the business woman’s implication that she wasn’t fit to handle the situation any longer and that it might require Xenia herself. Even so, conversation had never been Simpit’s strongest area, and she rather hated prolonged interactions with those outside of her own outfit.
“Enjoy yourself."
Sarlacc Luxury Halls;
Xenia Nastassia.
Xenia could only laugh off Alric’s inability to answer her questions as they came, whatever frustration she felt at his misdirection easily dismissed by an oppressing Gerion, his eyes and ears poised to find her every lie and mistake, as well as those of the few around them. It seemed, Xenia was sure, that the man didn’t miss a thing. Moreover, her assumptions felt reassured when he spoke next, breaking the few micro-moments of awkward wordless maw between Alric and herself by demanding her attention elsewhere. But her eyes fell kindly on the white haired mess of fine fabrics and straightened postures, her answer derived since long before entering the room. "I’ve been appraised of such presences as well,” Xenia assured Gerion, her gaze never faltering but for to steal a smile at Alric. “What sort of strategy do I have in mind, you ask? Simple. This Conglomerate needn’t fight to vanquish an enemy, we need merely host within our victims. If an empire is to rise, they will do so only by taking advantage of local resources. We,” again Xenia motioned around her, gesturing to the people, the fountains, the food, the ships through the port, the fleet beyond— “we’re the resources.” Xenia smiled, her own confidence seeming to bewilder the answer itself. “We need only grow in size, expand our markets. Add medicines, armors, weapons and starships, collect numbers, collect names.” She looked to each of them in turn, first to Tmoxin, prying or some form of reaction. Then to Gerion, the known creator of armies at a time, Alric who seemed resistant to align with anything, and Alicia, more a spectator than anything else.
“The Sanctuary Pipeline belongs to us already, and with Sullust so soon will many others. If allowed to press forward, our enemies and friends alike will be forced into doing business with our concern. Instead of oppose the growing forces as they emerge around us, Gerion, I’ll merely prosper from them.”
Xenia turned as another loud blast sounded, the thrusting length of a turbo laser puncturing holes straight through the unshielded hulls of Sphere retreat craft, finally having made it through atmosphere and into space. Nothing she hadn’t already expected, the flocks of unorganized craft speeding towards aimed and poised ships of war. It seemed she spoke under the metronome of beating explosions when next Xenia said anything, her concentration attached to the action she saw there beyond transparisteel.
“Tmoxin, Morpho seeks direction, does it not? We could expand your operation tenfold, add volume to your products, provide extensive material and funding. Make installments on new worlds, we have a few already waiting. Endor sports a variety of medical herbs and enjoys little opposition from local residents, though it borders a major trade route, and I offer it to you gift wrapped.”
And.
“Alicia, surely Emeritus could prosper from new friends. The metals we’re mining from Val’hala, rare phrik, carbo-plas alloys, the tech we’ve salvaged from remote though valuable worlds like Iskeria. They can be yours, with budget freedom and a network of employees to better pull from."
