The Naboo job (Open)

[RC 212]

[member="Dango Fess"] [member="Ruby Senri"] [member="Lyth Meran"] [member="Winrel Rurk"] [member="Joran Del-Finn"] [member="Thane Drexel"] [member="Duncan Pierce"] [member="Mack Revette"] [member="Acaleus Thorn"]


There was nothing but the black. Everything came from the black and everything at some point returned to that very same void. It was her home, her lover and her greatest terror all at once. Inside the cargo compartment of the rusty Crimson Dragon Hala was hard at work, shifting durasteel crates across the deck with a loading crane.

Officially they contained food stuffs and rare micro circuits en route to a local starship company in the Naboo system. Unofficially they had a crap ton of spice jammed in double sealed baggies under their fals bottoms.

But the spice was the least of her worries today. Contraband was easy to offload and easy to shield from scanners nowadays. No something else was on her mind. A looming job the crew had taken on at the ports near Nal Hutta. A contractor wanted a piece of the Starship market, and more particularity he wanted to do a little corporate sabotage.

With little fuel in the tank, and the ship falling to pieces they'd jumped on the job.

Spacer life.

*Beep! Beep!*

One gloved finger slipped from the controls and keyed her headset.

"Cap'n here."

"Cap you ready to give the briefing? We're up here and waiting. Also the caf is gonna get cold soooooo.."

"Yeah, yeah, be there in five mikes."

The last crate shifted to the back of the hangar freeing up more space in the fore of the hold. Hala dropped the control box to the deck, letting it hang by its worn and weathered wires. Her black boots clicked across the dull matted plating of the ship as she traversed the halls to a lift, then up a level to the central dining area.

It was a sterile white room, perhaps the cleanest room on board. The lights were bright, accented by a rare rosewood table in the centre complete with holo projector. She loved her antiques.

"Alright everybody, who's ready to earn some of them creds!" She boomed, brushing back loose strands of hair.

This was their first job together, and they might have thought her crazy. With the gunbelt slung low across the hips, the shotgun at her back in a bantha leather scabbard and her dirty black vest over a dirty tan long sleeve. She looked like she could be the infamous sister of a Solo.

There was a whirring high pitched buzz, the holo projector roared to life spitting out a shimmering blue starship. It was definitely a design of the older Naboo Navy. Sleek edges, rounded and super metallic silver.

"I present to you today’s target, the K-Type Yacht, courtesy of Naboo Star Designs or some such company. It's a beauty ain't it?" She asked, slipping her thumbs into her belt and grinning like the devil.

"We got about twelve hours till we hit the edges of the Naboo system. The plan is a two pronged attack. One team will go planetside in a shuttle while the other team stays aboard the Dragon and provides Comm's support, interference, quick dustoff that sort of thing. Now check this out."

Her fingers swiped the image left, revealing a map.

"Naboo central starport has a few of these babies parked in private hangars. What we're going after is the closest, least defended target. We got a few Uniforms and badges courtesy of our employer. We also got two Galactic Alliance IFF Tags, those will let us get in and out without being registered as our actual ship identity.

I had planned to land here."

She pointed.

"This is hangar 34C. It's two levels up and three hangars to the right of hangar 1Z. It's relatively close but granted, there's gonna be some kind of resistance. Uniforms and cards only get you so far. Let me get a feel for you guys. Who's good with guns, Who's my pilots, and whose my Slicers?"

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Theed, Naboo

Marcello's glacier-blue eyes focused intently on Cerysi, Princess of Theed. The former Jedi Master knew that the Princess' term in her current position would be coming to an end by the new year, but he valued her counsel above just about the entirety of his remaining staff. There were many on the Advisory Council that didn't necessarily agree with this reality, given the girl's age. However, Marcello was quick to remind them that a rather short time ago, their Queen was hardly any older than Cerysi. There wasn't typically much reason to complain about the Advisory Council, Marcello had replaced the vast majority of the non-elected membership. The Governor was probably the only elected position that had been vacated at Marcello's insistence.

Officially retired from the Jedi Order or not, Marcello would remain a Jedi. The Governor had been doing more harm than good, and his stubbornness in refusing to acknowledge that it was time for him to move on had been only a minute impediment. "Thank you Cerysi. I will be sure to bring your suggestions to the attention of Lady Cardei when she returns from her vacation. In the meantime, you have my leave to continue the planning efforts."

Cerysi smiled warmly at Marcello before offering a polite bow. "As always, it is my pleasure, Your Majesty."

No sooner had the Princess of Theed departed than one of Marcello's special assistants quietly stepped over to the Throne and whispered something into his ear. "Very well thank you." Glancing up at the rest of the assembled Council, Marcello came to his feet...which forced them to do the same. "We'll have to table the rest of the agenda until later this afternoon ladies and gentlemen, I am late for another engagement." Quickly, Marcello stepped down from the Throne and swept out a rear exit. Hurried steps carried him in the direction of his Soruna-class Interceptor. He had promised his fiancee, whom was visiting for an entire week two uninterrupted hours during his daily routine. He fully intended to maintain that appointment.

As he entered the Theed Hangar, the focal point of the Theed Palace Space Vessel Engineering Corps, the only starship manufacturer in the Naboo system...and the one with rather exclusive design rights to any and all current Naboo designs, Marcello was greeted by [member="Ajira Cardei"]'s deputy.

"She's all ready to go, Your Majesty."

Marcello smiled with a subtle nod of his head. "Thank you. You took care of that thrust modulation issue right?"

The man smirked slightly. "It wouldn't be necessary if you weren't so aggressive with her in the low-speed profiles during arrivals."

Marcello laughed softly as he climbed the ladder into the cockpit of his Soruna-class Interceptor. "There's no point in living if you can't feel alive." No sooner than he'd finished speaking, the canopy closed and the repulsors erupted to life.

------
Royal Naboo Defense Force Headquarters

General Analise Deveroux sat quietly in her office as she reviewed the latest situational reports forwarded to her by subordinate personnel. In the next hour or so, she would have a meeting in orbit with the Alliance Fleet Commander assigned to the Naboo Defense Fleet. Thus far, it seemed as if it was going to be another relatively routine day, but Naboo had suffered enough security issues recently such that all personnel took their jobs very seriously. All arrivals and departures into the system were scheduled in advance and thoroughly vetted. In the event that an unscheduled departure or arrival was required, Naboo RSF personnel conducted in-depth inspections and liaised with Alliance Military personnel.

As the Naboo System itself was home to three dense nebular regions, all parties involved utilized both routine patrols off-set by the employment of several Strategic Intrasystem Active Reconaissance Probes and Superluminal Reconnaisance Probes as necessary to provide for the in-depth defense of the system. Since signing out with the Alliance and adopting a great deal of new strategic paradigms, Naboo had quickly become one of the most well-defended worlds in the Galactic Alliance. Similarly, customs procedures were routinely adjusted to adapt to the ever-changing galactic environment.

The recent, unscheduled arrival of a bunch of Grey Jedi en mass had all but eliminated the possibility of any arrival planetside without inspection. There were exceptions to this, but they existed only in the highest spheres of Naboo and Alliance leadership. Even visiting foreign diplomats were subjected to scans by Interdiction and Customs Inspection Probes, though these procedures were capable of being completed totally without the visitor ever having to change their velocity from the mandated port speed.

[member="Hala Jast"] | [member="Astarii Saren"] | [member="Liliane Lancaster"] | [member="Dango Fess"] | [member="Ruby Senri"] | [member="Lyth Meran"] | [member="Winrel Rurk"] | [member="Joran Del-Finn"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Hala Jast"]

[member="Marcello Matteo"] would find Ajira's staff and fellow directors ready and willing to assist on all necessary matters. Lady Cardei herself was incommunicado on company business, about three weeks' travel away. She would be unable to provide more than the most rudimentary personal support or insight on whatever security situation might develop. Clearly, whoever had contracted the raiders for corporate sabotage had chosen their moment with precision and a worrisome amount of inside knowledge. The latter, like all instances of temerity, would be addressed in due course.

 

[Damian Starchaser]

Damian had met several times with the owner of the Theed Hanger corporation. The people involved weren't exactly friends, but were good customers having bought entire wardrobes from his little fashion company. Another fitting done with his tailor Whitely, or as he called him White Lie, had just finished. Damian thought it was important to show up to such meetings with higher end clients himself. It was important to show the love. [member="Ajira Cardei"] had been a pleasure to fit, and this time was no exception. The woman had left in a hurry leaving Damian alone and Whitely off to fit other high ranking members of the corporation. Fashion was apparently important on Naboo. Although the company had originally been a cover for Damians more devious side jobs spying, stealing, and causing overall mayhem he had to admit that little duties like this were rather enjoyable. What other cover could sit around and look at pretty woman all day? Damn. That was a Marek thought. Damian hated having Marek thoughts.

A frown covered his face as he sat in the hanger waiting for Whitely to return. He stared over at his companion. [member="Kima Betna"] was pretty enough, but all his attempts at flirting had been met with simple stone faced stoicism. This was a young woman who took her duties entirely too seriously. In theory their mutual friend Emerald had introduced them with Kima acting as his body guard. Truth was Damian didn't really need a bodyguard. Well unless Kaine Zambrano decided to come looking for him. A year or so ago Damian had blown him up with a hunk of explosives and had been looking over his shoulder ever since. There was ulterior motives for inviting the Mandalorian woman along. He wanted Kima, not for anything sordid but as a model for a new campaign on Mandalore. Marek probably would have been more successful at flirting, although Damian was no slouch when it came to buttering people up.

"So," he said as he was waiting. Nothing had really worked so far. Perhaps he was just looking at this the wrong way. Instead of complimenting her on her looks or on the smell of the drab perfume, his company could make better, that she wore there was another angle. "Emerald says you are super fit, and that you fight, spar." He imagined that getting a stern Mandalorian to talk about fighting would be something akin to getting one of the floral species on his companies board to talk about plants and farming.​ "I know a few techniques, I hear they are Mandalorian in origins. Taught to the Clones on Kamino back in the day. If we want at some point we can compare notes?"

[member="Kima Betna"] | [member="Marcello Matteo"] | [member="Hala Jast"] | [member="Astarii Saren"] | [member="Liliane Lancaster"] | [member="Dango Fess"] | [member="Ruby Senri"] | [member="Lyth Meran"] | [member="Winrel Rurk"] | [member="Joran Del-Finn"]

 

[Kima Betna]

Kima was hardly a Covergirl, nor was she particularly 'girly' in the general sense of the word. She was, however, an astute observer and so far her current employer had yet to show he was anything but a soft, sensitive clothes-horse with money. That said, the Clothes-Horse had money and her newfound friend, Emerald, had managed to convince him to part with it for her services as a bodyguard. As much as she'd rather be back home on Mandalore and hunting or in the middle of a bar fight in one of the local taverns, the money wasn't half bad.

"I'm on duty," she said from her position at the door. She wore her full armor with helmet, her spear collapsed and hooked on her belt. On her back was her recurve bow and a quiver of arrows while the handle of a few daggers poked from her belt and the tops of her armored boots. She shifted a little, placing herself just inside one of the air currents from the ventilation system. She'd spotted his nose wrinkle slightly the last few times she'd done so unintentionally, probably thinking horrid things about her 'perfume' she wore. Thing was, she didn't wear perfume and what he was smelling was the oils and lubricant from her armor and weapons. "When I'm not on duty, possibly."

The helmet cocked to one side and she shrugged before one hand fished out a small item from a belt pouch. She sealed the container and slid the candied Katag'ihr under her unsealed helmet and popped the treat into her mouth. Crunching down, she let the sweet flavors roll around for a moment, her inherent sweet tooth satisfied for the moment.

"Then again, possibly not. If I hurt you, you become that much harder to guard."

[member="Damian Starchaser"]

 

[Damian Starchaser]

Damian quirked an eyebrow as he looked over at [member="Kima Betna"]. It was obvious enough she didn't know who he was outside of being a fashionista. Then again, that was the point. As a owner he lived in sweet anonymity only coming out of the shadows for meetings with important people such as [member="Ajira Cardei"]. "I didn't really mean this second," Damian added, "Although I could think of worse things to do while killing time than giving you a bit of a fight." Shrugging he quickly added, "As for hurting me... well I doubt it."

Shrugging Damian then looked over at the woman and considered for a moment. She clearly thought he was some spoiled rich kid who cared more about fabrics than other things. Maybe he should take his shirt off for her, show the abs... then again that would probably only reinforce the same stereotype in the woman's head. "Someone should have taught you to never judge a holonovel by its box art."

Leaning back to lay down on the ground Damian squinted from the lights on the ceiling. "You should get out more. Get more experiences, learn a little about people. Judge slowly."

 

[Kima Betna]

"I judge well enough," came the response from her post by the door. "And you should talk about holovids and box art, you hardly know me."

He didn't know she was Cayatr A'den, much less what that even entailed. She figured if he was offering, he was probably highly skilled in some martial art or another and most likely wanted to show off. Thing was, she didn't fight to show off. She fought for the fight and in a fight between the serious and the braggarts, the braggarts generally didn't come out so well.

"So what exactly are we here for?" she asked after a moment. She wasn't the most patient person in the galaxy, in fact she didn't know a Cayatr A'den that was, but she'd force patience for the pay, at least. Hands raised up to pull the helmet off her head, revealing green eyes and a shock of short, blonde hair before clipping the helmet to her belt. "They sign on to purchase some new line of animal print pants or something?"

[member="Damian Starchaser"]

 

[Sein Reith]

(ooc sorry been buisy and forgot about Dango)

ignore this.

 

[Mack Revette]

Aboard the Crimson Dragon, with the good guys (thieves).

[member="Hala Jast"]

From a slumped pile of clothes at one end of the table rose a spidery hand, and a silvering-blonde head of hair looked up. Mack blinked blearily and mumbled.

"Guns. You want guns. Me guns. Me shoot guns." He yawned and rubbed at his eyes, then nodded pleasantly to all the others assembled (including those not present). "Sorry," he yawned again, retrieving a small tin from within his coat and opening it, "rooms make me sleepy." He shook something from the tin into his hand and popped it into his mouth, then smiled as he chewed. His eyes immediately became alert and focused on Hala. "So yeah, I'm your guns." He lifted his arms and flexed. "Mack Revette, pleased to meetcha." Still flexing, he winked his green eye, scrunching the tears inked beneath it. "My guy Dace was right, you are a real cutie. I like the 'engine grease as make-up' look, y'know?"

Finishing chewing, Mack propped his elbows on the table and cradled his chin in his palms. He smiled childishly, his lined and wasted face crinkling. "So, I know Dace told me what you were looking for when he told me about the job, and I know you just told me what we're stealing, so I just got a couple question marks for ya. Whatcha need me to do, and what are we stealing?"

 

[RC 212]

[member="Mack Revette"] [member="Marcello Matteo"] [member="Kima Betna"] [member="Damian Starchaser"]

Finally someone spoke up.

Hala shifted closer grinning like the devil and reached out to stroke Macks cheek.

"Calm down their Space Cowboy. Dontcha know you gotta woo the women slowly ha ha ha ha!"

Her eyes flickered back to the holoprojector and the dim gray walls. With a wave of her grubby fingers the blue image melted and slid away giving way to the picture of the craft.

"The K-Type Star Yacht. Only a few of these babies ever made and they are massively expensive and luxurious. The payoff on this thing could put fuel in our boat, money in your pocket and food on our table for half a year if not more."

Hala reached down grabbing a rusty canteen from the table and moving across the room to fill it. The caf pot was old and battered and steamy nutty aroma billowed as the jet black liquid went into her cup. She turned, leaning on the counter of the galley and facing the table with them all gathered round.

"Of course that don’t mean Im'a slow down. No gentlemen and ladies I'm out in the black for one reason and one reason only. To get rich or die tryin. That means any job, any risk, and any reward we can get."

She took a sip, letting the hot liquid burn down her throat. It tasted like crap strained through a sock but packed a wallop/ Now she was more alert, and her gloves fingers flexed around the cup, clenching and unclenching whilst her other hand hung from her belt.

"So basically Mr. Guns, Ima' need ya ta shoot anyone who tries to shoot us. 'Course we can't just go up in there all guns blazin' but if it comes to it, I ain't rottin' in no Alliance jail. Ya catch my drift?"

*Beep*
*Beep*

"Cap'n here."

A scratchy voice boomed across the speakers of the Galley.

"We're closing in, looks like security is mighty tight."

"How far out are we?"

"Couple parsecs, can see 'er from her Cap."

"Just keep us straight in line. Anyone hails us or scans us go ahead and give 'em the go ahead to board and inspect. The cargo holds are shielded well enough."

The line cut out and she locked her brown eyes on each of the Rag tags crews.

"We're getting close, if ya got questions ask 'em quick!"

 

[Thane Drexel]

At the edge of the Naboo system, the Red Fleet entered real space. Home One and the rest of the Red Fleet slowed as it entered the system, sure to set off sensor alerts. Thane sat at the captain's chair, sipping a glass of fine Corellian whiskey, he asked the crew to prepare for inspection. Ensigns put away their game consoles and the beach ball was deflated.

Let's look presentable fellas, we are in the system of a Monarchy. Make sure we don't let Eann talk, you karked up our last visit to a nice place...He gave a scowl to Eann who was busy rolling up a towel.

[member="Hala Jast"] [member="Marcello Matteo"]

Spoiler

Red Fleet:
Home One
x4 Rieekan Frigate
x4 Shield Medical Frigate
x6 Antilles Corvette
x4 CR90 Corvette
x6 Gaillard Freighter
x6 GR-75 Transport

Edited

 

[RC 212]

[member="Marcello Matteo"] [member="Mack Revette"] [member="Thane Drexel"]

"Got another couple of vessels enterin' cap!"

"Ok I'm on my way up there."

She had to cut the little meeting short. Things were about to get hairy. Hala moved again to the counter, refilling her canteen with more caf and loosening her DL-44 in it's holster. It was her nervous tick, to go for the gun when things got tough. Saved her life more times than she could count.

"They're closing Cap!"

"Yeah yeah, hold on."

The turbolift doors whooshed open and she stepped in, and then out onto the rusty battered hangar deck. Most of the terminals were more than a decade old, and had wires hanging from random ends. She'd expressly forbidden networking anything on her vessel, paranoid of hackers.

"What we got?"

"Another group just entered, looks like our old friend Cap'n Drexel."

"Sound's swell, tell em I said hi. What else?"

"Nothin', moving towards atmosphere now."

"How far out are we?"

"Bout thirty minutes standard time from orbit."

Hala felt her jaw tighten and brought her commlink to her lips, sending out a message across the ships PA system.

"Attention crew, get to your stations. More than likely we're about to be boarded and if it don't go well... well we ain't gettin' this job done without a fight then."

"Shall we?"

"Yes full burn, bring us right in. If they hail us give em the manifest."

 

[Vaulkhar]

Crimson Dragon
Storage Room

Vaulkhar grumbled to himself as he pushes aside a crate within a storage hold of the Crimson Dragon and rolled out of the awkward spacing he managed to find for himself. As he dusted off his dark gray robes, the blind man 'peered' about the room in silence momentarily. As said moment passed, he cursed to himself. He was sent here by his master to aid in a little mischief and chaos. Through his master's network of followers, he learned of a small pirate incursion to Naboo to steal a shuttle; or something. He wasn't quite sure and he most certainly didn't care why, but he was simply to cause some mischief for the Galactic Alliance, in turn taking their attention away from his master's deeds within the system. The young man stepped out from within the storage room into a hallway within the Crimson Dragon and moved towards the nearest exit of the ship.

Not capable of finding anything within the nearest vicinity, Vaulkhar shrugged and moved towards the central deck, where a gathering had taken place. As he entered into the area, he could not help but frown at the small number of people within the ship. Whether this was enough people or not wouldn't matter. He cleared his throat and raised a hand.

"Did I miss anything?"

After he spoke, Hala Jast came over the communications and explained they may have to fight to get to the planet. That wasn't a surprise, as they were deep in Alliance space.

"This is why I prefer my ship," he grumbled, "it's a little less obvious and considering most ships can get onto a planet without such a problem; I'd likely already be down there.

[member="Hala Jast"] [member="Mack Revette"] [member="Dango Fess"] [member="Kima Betna"] [member="Damian Starchaser"]

OOC: Edited

 

[Sein Reith]

[member="Vaulkhar"]
" Tell me about it. i like my little ship. it's only me and a prisoner. "
Dango agreed
" You think those power couplings need to be refitted though. the carbon fiber interfaces are getting frayed. " the green Cyborg sayed in her metalic voice from her place leaning againsed the bulk head.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

((OOC: Really sorry for the delay guys - should be posting on a normal schedule now))

General Deveroux had been watching the tactical display with detached interest ever since the Alliance Fleet Commander alerted her to multiple hyperspace reversions at the edge of the Naboo system. She knew the protocol that the Alliance fleet would follow, but the fact that none of the approaching vessels bore the identification code for any planned arrivals had already put a number of defensive elements on alert. To their credit, the Alliance Fleet had given the wayward vessels just about every opportunity to get smart. In fact, Deveroux thought that perhaps they had been too kind, but it was a matter for another time.

-----

Admiral Siev had been on the bridge of the Solo-class Command Ship for the last couple of hours. The Solo-class was the largest vessel assigned to the current Naboo Defense Fleet, but it was supported by eight Dreadnought-class Mk III Escort Cruisers and four Nebulon-L Multirole Frigates. Two of the frigates had been configured as medical ships while the remaining two were configured for mine-laying and counter-piracy operations.

Since the death of Queen Versai, the Alliance had rebuffed protective efforts in the Naboo system at the request of Naboo leadership and in the interest of protecting a world containing such valuable stores of Plasma. Plasma that the Alliance desperately needed to continue receiving in support of its war effort against the Sith. For this reason, arrivals into the Naboo system followed a very controlled, slow process. Between established fields of seeker and ion mines, spread composition of the defense fleet, and engagement coverage provided by the Uldyr-class Defense Station and Doaba-class Defense Station operating from high orbit over the poles of the planet, it was rather difficult for any ship more or less regardless of size to slip into the atmosphere undetected and, more importantly, unscathed without prior authorization.

"Tac we tracking them steady?"

"Yes sir."

"Sir, contact is increasing speed, accelerating towards atmosphere."

The Admiral's response was dispassionate. "Notify the RSF. We get the readouts from the customs probes yet?"

"Nothing too out of the ordinary uncovered, sir."

"Really." It wasn't a question.

"Typical anomalies for unscheduled arrivals, I mean sir."

"Let's start with that next time. Communications hail them one more time."

"Aye sir." The Communications Officer altered his frequency such that it could be picked up by anyone. By now, the two Dreadnought-class Mark III Cruisers that had positioned themselves on an intercept course had fallen back to shadow positions, albeit still inside engagement range. The Solo would prosecute primary engagement if it became necessary. Fortunately for everyone onboard the newly arrived vessel, they had gotten lucky and were not approaching one of the many minefields surrounding the planet. Very lucky.

"Unidentified vessel, you are approaching a Galactic Alliance Defensive Perimeter. Come to full stop and prepare to be boarded."

"Tac. They get exactly sixty seconds to do precisely as instructed. You get so much as a whiff of anything else, you get me a firing solution and unleash hell."

"Aye sir, recommend we work out the firing solution now, it'll take me about ninety seconds to coordinate with planetary defense to overlap fire from the defensive batteries and slave our firing solution to their targeting computers."

"Do it. And send one of the Nebulons with two escorts to investigate the other arrival. Launch some probes so we can start building a picture of what the hell they're doing here too."

[member="Hala Jast"] | [member="Mack Revette"] | [member="Thane Drexel"] | [member="Vaulkhar"] | [member="Dango Fess"]

 

[Vaulkhar]

The incoming transmission made it's way to Vaulkhar's ears with relative ease. Gently pressing the small communications device within his ear, the device activated and he managed to pick up on the transmission. With a frown, he looked towards the crew that had gathered upon the deck and cleared his throat. This was a problem. One that could easily be solved. If they went forward acting as criminals, they will be treated as criminals. But if they can at least get down to the planet without causing the catastrophe they were on route for, there'd be a chance to get the job done. Not that Vaulkhar cared much for the job, it was more about his own assignment.

"Excuse me, crew of this vessel."

After stepping towards [member="Hala Jast"] and the others, he raised a hand slightly to get there attention and once more cleared his throat. He wasn't one for speaking, he was a solid and a warrior, not a diplomat. But in this situation, it was better he consider talking to them rather than picking a fight.

"I would suggest we come to a stop and allow them to board. If they check us out and we appear clean, we can land on Naboo and begin our mission further. This way it won't require every step of the job be a battle. The deaths of many will not be required."

[member="Marcello Matteo"] | [member="Dango Fess"] | [member="Thane Drexel"] | [member="Mack Revette"] | [member="Kima Betna"] | [member="Damian Starchaser"]

 

[Mack Revette]

Mack had stared happily at [member="Hala Jast"]'s ass as she left, and continued smiling at the doorway she'd vacated as the others spoke. Then his brow furrowed, and he turned back to the rest of the room.

"Wait wait wait," Mack said, raising a hand as [member="Vaulkhar"] spoke, "you sayin' we should just, let 'em in like that? On the first date?" He shook his head and rocked back in his chair, drawing a blaster and twirling it on his finger. "S**t dude, even I ain't that f***in' easy. At least make 'em buy us a drink first or something. And another thing," he said, wagging a finger and standing, looking perplexed.

"Since when ain't we s'posed to kill people?" He spun his pistol again and flapped his jacket open, showing the guns rigged on his chest. "That's like, ninety-f***in'-percent of how I make a livin', sonny!" Mack pouted and turned away, scratching his scalp. "Damn Commies," he muttered, "tryin' to keep an honest man from makin' an honest livin' with some honest killin'."

He left the storage room, still muttering sadly, absently drawing and twirling and reholstering his pistols.

 

[Thane Drexel]

Thane boarded his Nevermore stealth bomber and launched from Home One. He ordered the fleet to pull out of the system, stay mobile, but keep near enough that it would be easy to rendezvous.

This is Wild Turkey, launching!

The stealth bomber enter the endless abyss of space and made its way towards the planet of Naboo. Thane saw the Nabooian fleet converge upon the Crimson Dragon ships, that gave him an opening, even with his stealth tech, he'd like to avoid conflict until he was planet-side.

Good luck fellas, I'll see you down there. Thane said to himself...

[member="Hala Jast"] [member="Mack Revette"] [member="Marcello Matteo"]

 

[RC 212]

[member="Marcello Matteo"] @Mack Revette @Thane Drexel [member="Vaulkhar"]

On Board the Crimson Dragon.

Bridge

--------------------------------------

"Scanners just picked up more picket patrols, plus a couple o' heavies."

Hala squinted, leaning over the seat back of her pilot to peer at the screens. There appeared to be a flurry of activity beginning. That wasn't a very good sign. Likely they had already been bagged and tagged as pirates or some such nonesnes. Hala smirked, not too far from the mark actually.

"They are ordering us to halt Cap'n."

When Vaulkhar said his piece Hala was inclined to agree. The fact that there were so many ships, with so many guns and so few of them. This wasn't a smash and grab job, this was finesse cloak and dagger type of deal.

"Do it, kill our engines."

She grabbed a headset from the console and threw it on hap hazardly.

"Vaulkhar go check on Macke, make sure he don't shoot the Inspection crew. Likely there will plenty of time to shoot stuff later."

Hala turned her attention back to Charlie, whom was at the helm.

"Charlie give us a direct line to whomever is hailing us."

The Correllian woman smirked and readjusted her dirty baseball cap, fingers tapping like a spice addict needing their fix over multiple keys and switches.

"You're on Cap'n."

"Naboo Control this Captain Hala Jast of the Red Dart. We are complying with customs protocols as asked. No one even hailed us when we first got here. Is there a problem? Thought we were good."

She muffled the mike with her palm, tapping Charlie on the shoulder twice with a sharp motion.

"Send the Cargo Manifest."

"Aye, Cap'n."

Then she took her palm away, speaking back into the mike.

"We are a Private Contractor en route to Theed central Starport with a shipment of Food stuffs. Everything you need should be appearing on your screens now. Manifest is being broadcast, please advise."

Then the headset switched channels to the ships PA.

"Crew double check that all shielded smuggler hatches are covered by food cargo. We are about to be inspected."

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Admiral Siev watched the tactical display in an almost trance-like state as his communications officer handled communications with the unscheduled arrival. As the conversation was conducted, several custom probes were dispatched to conduct a more thorough inspection of [member="Hala Jast"]'s vessel. There wouldn't actually be any physical boarding unless that became a complete necessity. The Admiral, after all, knew the Alliance had been granted wide berth in enforcing the laws of both the Alliance and Naboo in orbit, but more importantly...the current King of Naboo seemed to harbor little tolerance for surprise guests.

Apparently people had been assuming the charity of Naboo too much as of late.

The response provided to the Red Dart was rather...comprehensive following a quick review of scheduled arrivals and departures. "All imports are cleared and scheduled through Alliance Logistical Command. There are no scheduled deliveries for today." Further more, the Alliance only utilized organziations that had, effectively, won government contracts. That was information a legitimate provider would already have, however. "Standby while we verify there has not been an error with Theed Hangar."

This too was mostly a facade. All of the required information was already on hand. Just less than a minute passed before the communicator was keyed up once more. "There is no record for your clearance, Red Dart. You have two minutes to initiate a direct reciprocal course."

The Admiral exhaled softly as the final instruction was given to the Red Dart. The half-hearted attempt was a bit irritating to the man. "Tactical what's your status?"

"Firing solution is locked in, and we've coordinated overlapping fire with nearest resources."

"Very well. Give me two of the midship batteries prepared for a warning shot."

"Aye sir."

[member="Mack Revette"] | [member="Thane Drexel"] | [member="Vaulkhar"] | [member="Dango Fess"]