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Sucking Out the Secrets (Open to FO, TSE, and ORC)

2300 Dosuun Standard Time
Undisclosed space near Drexel
Aboard a stealth corvette…

....The FIV Tortuga, ironically named by someone already buried deep in Imperial soil, soared free amidst the backdrop of happy stars and greedy black holes, its mission secret, its intent twisting along the paths of fate. Inside, an elite cadre of operatives manned the long range detection equipment, pressed with a nigh religious zeal as they clung to their instruments, headphones clutched tightly as paranoia tickled their throats with every tiny distortion detected by the sensors. Thus far the crew had spent a number of harrowing hours exploring the very edges of the territory under alleged control of the Outer Rim Collaition. Successful avoidance of detection had less to do with the cutting-edge technology on the ship or the excellence of the crew and more with how remote this sector of the galaxy was. Nevertheless the harrowing experience of laying the foundations of their infiltration had been surpassed: hyperspace lanes had been calculated and the routes were sent off to a number of prearranged parties who eagerly awaited the chance to exploit such discovery. This fringe scouting would enable the Sith Empire to enter the very edge of enemy space before finding their own paths deeper within. Once the scouts assembled they would explore the outposts, emplacements, and disposition of the enemy. Only time would tell how successful this operation would be….

A certain standing woman with a perpetual smirk, a particular representative of the First Order who utilized myriad names, identities, and callsigns with an wanton disregard that verged on schizophrenia looked over a datapad before sending out the signal to her contacts in the Saaraishash. This was immediately followed with a splattering of orders and requests that moved various assets like a network of cogs. Some were pointed in misdirection to sectors far from here to trip up anyone listening, some urged various tools requisitioned by Operations for this mission. Once that was complete, this woman -the enigmatic Major- took a deep breath and shook out her white gloved hands.

Now she just had to wait -wait and see what sort of secrets she could start wheedling out.

Mara D'Lessio Merrill

The Lesser D'Lessio

" yes, you can waterproof a hyperdrive. You just have to be real careful about teniline granule oxidation. Our design incorporates a full steristeel enclosure around the granules all the way through..."

The Drexellian sea dragons nodded, though that might just have been the natural sway of their long necks. One slapped the water with a fin in a gesture she understood to mean approval. Other merchants -- her father, mainly -- had given the Drexellians their own space travel capabilities. Mara's goal was to supply them with the parts to build truly homegrown ships, even if that was five or ten or twenty years in the future. Custom life-support systems, hypernav units...the Drexellians would have plenty of use for those.

Her pocket buzzed gently. At a natural break in the discussion, Mara eyed the comm alert. The breath caught in her throat. Adrenaline spiked as if she was preparing for combat.


"Well, feth. There goes Saturday night."


Drexel was one of the Coalition's newest members. Its position on the Confederate border meant that only the most cursory monitoring and defense equipment had been installed. A single squadron of J-95 snubfighters made port there, and a flight of three of them was on standard patrol. The little fighters had no shields and relatively primitive guns, but they had good speed and advanced sensors. Still, [member="The Major"] and her dedicated stealth ship would pass undetected so long as they didn't do anything daft. Stealth suites tended to beat mass-produced starfighter sensors any day, so long as the former came equipped with industrial-grade common sense.



"No! You stupid tin can!"

The R4 unit made a noise of disgust and Simone thwacked the top of its domed head angrily. "Don't swear at me!"

This was the fifth outburst in the last hour, the long range sensor suite had been malfunctioning for days and much to her despair, her R4 unit had been malfunctioning forever. As astromechs went, he was as useful as a protocol droid in a firefight. Pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes she took yet another deep breath, and tried again to explain.

"Look, the wires are fried, we've got to replace them." she shook the wire spool in front of his face, if you keep trying to reconnect them before i'm done you're gonna short out the whole ship and that'll be a whole other mess for me to fix. Do. You. Underst--NO!"

Too late.

The electrics on the ship, flickered and died, throwing them into darkness.

The R4 unit warbled in awe and understanding.

"Oh, now, the tin can gets it."

[member="The Major"] [member="Mara Merrill-Valkner"]
Inactive Character Account

Kyli DT-6767
FIV Tortuga, Armoury.

Steaming hot Coffee is thrown against the hardy black Quadanium Steel cuirass worn by Kyli DT-6767 as she rounded a corner on the edge of one of the ship's narrow intersections, the poor Sailor steadily raises his ever widening eyes to meet the nigh seven feet tall Death Trooper's silvery visor she grunts and gently pushes the man out of her way though for him it felt like being thrown up against the bulkhead at the end of some speeder. "Watch where you're going swabbie." One of the burlier and more senior Sailors standing behind the young crewmen stares at the Supersoldier as she passes, surprised in equal measure by the trooper's size and the feminine voice which spoke the warning. Helping the young Corpsman they both watched this figure clad in some exquisite armour from head-to-toe access the armoury's door and disappear inside. Kyli lazily sweeps some of the liquid away and approaches a receptacle waving her hand passed it soliciting an audible though quiet hydraulic whine fills the ship's modest armoury. Reaching out from the bulkhead wall the receptacle reveals Kyli's weapons; the Railgun which served as her Sniper Rifle and the diminutive G-6E Blaster, taking the latter she smacks it against the magnetic strip that sat across her right-thigh releasing a tired sigh into the confines of her helmet. "Where in the spires of hell are the others?" Hazel spheres glance around the armoury after finishing slipping a pair of stuncuffs, with all of her equipment the Death Trooper finds a perch atop some Durasteel crate that squeaks and groans beneath the Trooper's combined weight of her Powered Armour and body. Kyli's hands start going about disassembling her Type-51 rifle; at the moment it lacked a magazine and power cell in accordance with First Imperial safe weapon handling policies. Inserting the projectile cartridge and power cell Kyli puts the long rifle down beside her and left the safety engaged before repeating the loading process with her personalised G-6E; identical to the normal model except this Death Trooper had printed her name upon the weapon using a bit of tape and black marker. Kyli wondered in this quiet solitude if in becoming the perfect soldier she'd traded an opportunity to ever know what it would be like to truly feel like a righteous person; believing that the idea of the perfect soldier was the antithesis to the good person ,some questions were better left unanswered though. Kyli expected that the current deployment would be nothing more than baby-sitting the Corvette and doubted that the quick-reaction force that ALPHA had been attached to would be necessary unless somebody up-top screwed up which as an Enlisted Soldier and Death Trooper, Kyli knew better than to rule out completely seemed to her most Officers existed to make simple tasks difficult and overly bureaucratic. Kyli waits for the arrival of her teammates who she now considered some of her only friends, fidgeting with her weapon in the meanwhile either in loading or merely inspecting them and ensuring that all moving parts are free of malfunction.

[member="Rexus Wenck"] [member="Luther Ando"] [member="The Major"]
Success or Death.
ON BOARD: The Eidolon

The Outer Rim Coalition - A band of half-baked smugglers and ruffians, squatting in the southern outer rim, feeding off the anarchy and apathy of the self indulgent as they turn a blind eye to the crisis in which the galaxy found itself. Nor did these barbarians have the decency to simply roll over and be assimilated into the Imperial way. No, they lingered in their limbo, pushing away their responsibilities.

Yet, they had the audacity to intercede into the business of their betters, launching a raid on the Kolto foundries of Shusgaunt. This rabble would not be allowed to go untouched any longer. But what do you steal from those who have nothing? Why, their secrets, of course.

Everyone has secrets.

The Eidolon, Darth Ophidia's reward for faithful service to the Sith Empire, was executing a new and dangerous manoeuvre to mask their hyperspace approach. Normally, they would have spent hours upon hours approaching from afar, but now they might have a chance to enter the system in disguise and rapidly dispense agents down to the surface. All they needed was a much, much larger ship to hide behind. So, the Empire had engaged one of it's SIFIA agents ensure that their cargo ship stopped in the Drexel System at the right moment, the right second.

Then the Eidolon entered just below it, hidden in the shadow of the massive cargo ship, they engaged the Stygium cloaking. They angled the ship away from the cargo vessel and engaged thrusters, separating themselves from the hulking mass before it was subject to investigation.

The Eidolon's presence in the system was not to make war or take on fleets, but to provide a base of operations for agents about to enter the field along with First Order operatives. It was equal measures an assurance and a competition when they entered the field together. On one hand they would have better results by cooperating, but there was no doubt both sides wanted to show that they carried the most weight in the mission.

With the press of a button, a signal went out to the waiting crew.

The Queen of Shadows herself put down her empty teacup and placed the helm upon her head. She would be entering the field herself, leaving the ship in the capable hands of its captain and crew.

Sebastian Thel

Cipher Thel
Location: The Eidolen
Allies: [member="Darth Ophidia"]

Walking between metallic corridors, Sebastian followed the beep of equipment, gradually drowning out beneath the surge of the hull of the ship. Glances, wary and astute, shifted to the faces of Imperial officers who monitored his every movement. A coat which was too long for him brushed his legs as walked, looking for the door which bore the number on his contact information. He knew he looked out of place among the intelligence operatives, sleek in their uniforms and allowed another glance over his shoulder.

The door to the station room, marked with the number he remembered, stood in front of Sebastian at the end of the corridor. He slid his pass key into the identification scanner and the door surged open, allowing him to pass through. A signal beeped on the communication device in his pocket, alerting him to the attention of the Sith Lord commanding the operation. Pausing to check the message, Sebastian walked through the door and beheld Darth Ophidia drinking tea by the viewport.

"My Lady, Agent Thel has arrived." One of the technicians announced as she read Sebastian's details on a computer screen. Raising a hand in refusal, Sebastian managed a chuckle at the use of the title.

"I'm not an agent, m'lady." Sebastian said in a quiet voice, his intimidation at the sight of Ophidia clear in his posture. "I'm just a mathematician." Running a hand through his pin-straight hair, he avoided the gaze of the Sith as the technician hurried to check his profile on the computer screen. She nodded upon seeing that he had been selected from the civilian populace to decrypt incoming Coalition messages.

"The Sith contacted me to decrypt Coalition information." Sebastian affirmed. As the door locked behind him, he took a step towards Ophidia and awaited the presence of the other Sith and agents. When they had heard about his efforts on Jaminere, the Sith had contacted him again, an offer which he accepted hesitantly. Although they had given him very little choice.

Mara D'Lessio Merrill

The Lesser D'Lessio
The flight of four J-95 scout fighters accelerated toward the new arrival. A superfreighter wasn't the most common sight this far off the beaten path, but a basic flyby scan would be more than sufficient. The fighters' advanced sensor systems quickly probed the freighter and verified that its cargo was innocuous. The inspection flight's senior officer recommended that the freighter's captain check his vents. The fighters had experienced brief turbulence comparable to passing through a Star Destroyer's engine wash.

The superfreighter continued on its way, departing the Drexel system as scheduled. The fighters went back to their patrol route.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]


Down on the surface of Drexel, on one of the islands that dotted the waterworld, Mara kept selling hyperdrives to sea serpents.

Darth Rixas

Unto the Knife
Oron's fiery gaze found [member="Darth Ophidia"] and [member="Sebastian Thel"] as he walked onto the bridge, his leather boots making very little sound as he approached. It would be the clinking of one of his lightsabers tapping the thigh plate of his beskar'gam that would give him away. Armor that when worn upon him was forsaken, just as he was to his former people. Long ago Oron found the Resol'nare unbefitting for his fall into darkness and unfulfilling when compared to the Sith's code. With a growing thirst that continued unsated over time, he accepted his fate, that he would be denied entry into Manda upon death- But the Sith were eternal. There was no afterlife for him now. There would be no death. For he'd long ago became more than just a man. More than just Oron.

He looked from the two and to the viewport and tightened his lips at the sight of the freighter overhead. Usually this scene offered polar-white stars flashing and flickering across a massive, empty, black advance. When he was younger Oron's aunt often told him they were beacons for those that were lost and devoid of hope. With that in mind, the Sith Lord found it ironic that they were now eclipsed by the massive cargo freighter during their entry into Drexel. As he tilted and slightly turned his head, moving his lava-like gaze to Ophidia, he wondered if she found the same poetry in her plans and actions as he did. Regardless, he turned his attention back to the encroaching city below them. Her vision to see them enter undetected was successful, despite the impeccable timing needed to execute the maneuver- but, such things were not unexpected of her. The seasoned Queen of Shadows was a genius after all.

Apparently as was the Agent present with them, or as Oron had just learned, the mathematician. That made for two people in the room smarter than him now. A thought that would have irritated others but it only accrued a higher success rate for the mission at hand to the Sith Lord. If ever he had the biggest brain during an op, he'd soon seek out other allies to accompany him. Stealth alone was not largely a challenge for him but the games being played during the matches were not designed for minds of his ilk to play alone.

Since crawling out the hole from which he'd came, Oron found few familiar faces within the Sith Empire and even larger amounts of newer ones. A lot of his former allies had disappeared into holes similar to his own or had perished alltogether, but the fact that the Sith were still here spoke volumes to their State. The faces carrying the faction's banner need not remain the same, only the agenda. Eclipse the Light..The Darkside cared not for whom utilized it, just that it found use. And there would always be those strong enough to untie the knots of weakness and fear within themselves and discover the power it offered. However painful it may be to acquire it.

The snap of a button being pressed drew Oron's attention to it, then the call for the waiting parties to engage was issued. Freeing his buy'ce of its hold under his arm and sliding it onto his head, he gave his present allies a sharp nod. Ensuring them that he was ready to help swipe the ORC of all they'd attempted to hide away.


I'm just F'n with you!
He was out of his depth. There was no question about it. *She really has been busy.* Though in truth, such a thought should have been expected. Always the more prominent of the two, Sybil had proven time and time again that she was the stronger of the two. Not more than six months ago she'd been near fatally wounded. A bullet to the woman's spine had seen her to the edge of death, perhaps beyond even if only for mere moments. Through an all but uncertain sequence of events, things had transpired over the course of time, Sybil remaining as an operative for the First Order's Security Bureau, the expansion of the First Order. While "The Major" had recovered Martin had hid the specifics of how he'd kept track of her and her exploits and in fairness many of them she spoke about of her own accord - and then there were those that she would keep, even from her brother. It was these which interested him the most.

:: Z͢e͡phyr 7. Rona͏ 3̡.͟ ̶V̨ic͝e͟ 8̨.̸ ::
The garbled electronic buzzing in Martin's ear drew his attention from the depths of his mind. There was a time to reminisce - this wasn't it. An encrypted communication had been sent from the vessel ahead, its contents however he was unable to decipher. A frustrated frown creased his features. Martin felt like a fish out of water, normally he'd simply hire someone to do this but there was a feeling in his gut he couldn't shake. *Money only gets you so far.* This time he wanted, no needed to see it for himself.

"Adjust two seven. Coast us in their wake."

A short chirp was all he got in response, the flutter of the vessel's engines cutting out leaving nothing but the near silent hum of the life support systems. The Tortuga. Now that was a name - not one his sister would have come up with to be sure. Even so, it was her ship, and she was aboard it. Of that he'd been certain. He'd seen her board with his own eyes and been tracking the vessel since its departure. More than once he'd almost lost the vessel completely, only catching a fading glimpse of her energy signal. By fate or chance he didn't know. He wasn't alone however, he'd been smart enough to hire a co-pilot. An augment who'd run a particularly hard bargain. While money only could get you so far, it could also be used to get others to go the distance for you.

"Keep us out of their sights, we don't want them to know we're here."

His companion shifted in his seat, eyes silently judging the Almanian before turning back to the screens. Sometimes no response was the better response.

[member="The Major"]

Mara D'Lessio Merrill

The Lesser D'Lessio

[member="Darth Ophidia"] [member="Darth Rixas"] [member="Sebastian Thel"] [member="Kyli DT-6767"] [member="Simone"] [member="The Major"]

The Outer Rim Coalition's physical presence on Drexel centred on an island trading post. A duracrete fort, designed more to defend against the elements than an attack, overlooked a collection of prefab shelters. The fort held the system's strongest commscan array, though frankly it wasn't doing much: Drexel was a quiet system. A reinforced cave beneath the fort served as the hangar for the J-95 system defense squadron, most of which was still in there and not on alert.

Professional SIGINT interception and decryption would indicate that the fort's commander had asked the Vergesso listening post for more information on the superfreighter. It might or might not be a basic followup. A daily update package, if intercepted, would indicate that trade with the locals -- known as water worms or sea dragons -- was proceeding to everyone's advantage, and that the locals looked forward to the arrival of specially adapted ships. A cargo of local artworks, mainly carvings in coral, stone, and driftwood, was heading offworld shortly on a small freighter owned by a Captain Merrill.