Trent
Active Member
Urbs Aeterna
The distant past-----
The moonless night of the ice world was stunning to anyone who had the opportunity to see it. A planet left mostly untouched, with no light pollution, and strategically located by several stunning clusters of stars. Everyone but a local.
TS-101 stood, eyeing the frozen waste he'd once called home with a critical, slighly annoyed eye. He'd joined the Stormtrooper Corp to get off frozen rocks like Rhen Var, and had found himself immediately assigned to a Snowtrooper Training Battalion after graduation. Made sense, but still made the young man a little aggrivated as he sat stood inside his company's snowy trenchline, his Dlt-19 oriented westword in the dim, foggy twilight. The thermal scope on his blaster's view was solidly cold, as it scanned from behind his dug in emplacement on the side of their position up a small hill, elevated enough on the plains to give a slight advantage. Norman couldn't believe the tenacity of the group of offworld rebels they'd spent the last several months hunting, in the horrid conditions they found themselves in. Rhen Var was a cruel place to outsiders. The 29th Snowtrooper Division had dug in and raided the surrounding countryside ceaselessly, finding little besides an occasional local or tribe, who would often help them with information on rebel movements once they heard their own tongue come from one of the faceless, armored troopers asking the question. TS-101had found himself Corporal, as his company's translator in addition to his normal duties as a DLT
-19 gunner.
So far the rebels had been expectedly shy, not wanting to face the overwhelming firepower that the Empire had, but eventually they'd have to do something. He doubted they could hunt enough game or fish enough on the run to feed a group as large as their's. Estimated to be about about two thousand or so at the beginning of their deplyoment, had to be down to half that from weather and the 29th.
Norman blinked. Blinked again. A small bright interruption in the deadness of the plains, blaring hot. His heartrate spiked as another cluster of blobs found themselves bobbing his way. He began to key into his helmet and was interuppted by the blare of the DLTs positioned 50 meters either direction on his left and right, with another troop yelling contact into their headset. Muscle memory kicked in.
Steam rose off the heavy blaster's barrel as it spat plasma flying towards the advancing figures. His scope sparkled brilliantly as a rebels blaster bolt flew past his head, cinging the finish on his hooded helmet as he fired short bursts into the shapes, cursing and praying silently as he continued to fire. A rocket took out the pillbox to his left, sending a jet of flame, ice, dirt, and man flying into the air.
Norman fired a little faster.
------------------------------
Present-
Several tiny probes circled the green and blue orb of a planet at the reaches of the Diarchy, right on the edge of their frontier. A planet with no record that they could find, and a primitive but industrialized world of humans buzzing across the nine continents that dotted the oceans beneath them. The information had been quickly analyzed, processed, classified, and sent to the Network's analysts before being presented to the scarred man now standing, steadily, lazily, by a window. Who was now to present said information to some of the Diarchy's Chiefs, at least by his own etymology. His years of loyalty and undercover work had lent him the opportunity, to pitch an idea, that until recently hadn't been possible.
A thin, steady stream of smoke rolled from the end of Norman's cigarello as he looked out the conference room's decently sized starship rated safety glass at the ringed levels below. Far beneath Orinakra's barren wasteland of a surface sat a massive complex of bunkers and facilities sat in a set of rings. The levels went down untold meters, well into the planet's crust, the ring shape and gloomy views of the rock outside creating an odd ambiance uncomfortable for those that were unaccustomed to the oppressive architecture. For Mr. Trent, The bunker complex was his home, when not on assignment. He maintained a permanente apartment of sorts on the upper levels, and had no other life beyond his work. That part of him had died in his sleep, along with the rest of his life and all he'd known. His lip twitched slightly at the thought, the normal, occassional burst of pain.
The agent crushed the tightness in his chest into a ball and expelled it with a puff of smoke, no time for that now.
Like the rest of the complex the conference room was largely sterile, barren as the planet's surface, but in a clean, imperial manner. A long black table took up most of the room, with the lion share of the rest of the space being relegated to simple chairs, and a circular steel holoprojector sitting in the table's center. He pushed the device's remote, sending a blue, see thru image of a holographic planet into the empty space above it. Not long now.
The distant past-----
The moonless night of the ice world was stunning to anyone who had the opportunity to see it. A planet left mostly untouched, with no light pollution, and strategically located by several stunning clusters of stars. Everyone but a local.
TS-101 stood, eyeing the frozen waste he'd once called home with a critical, slighly annoyed eye. He'd joined the Stormtrooper Corp to get off frozen rocks like Rhen Var, and had found himself immediately assigned to a Snowtrooper Training Battalion after graduation. Made sense, but still made the young man a little aggrivated as he sat stood inside his company's snowy trenchline, his Dlt-19 oriented westword in the dim, foggy twilight. The thermal scope on his blaster's view was solidly cold, as it scanned from behind his dug in emplacement on the side of their position up a small hill, elevated enough on the plains to give a slight advantage. Norman couldn't believe the tenacity of the group of offworld rebels they'd spent the last several months hunting, in the horrid conditions they found themselves in. Rhen Var was a cruel place to outsiders. The 29th Snowtrooper Division had dug in and raided the surrounding countryside ceaselessly, finding little besides an occasional local or tribe, who would often help them with information on rebel movements once they heard their own tongue come from one of the faceless, armored troopers asking the question. TS-101had found himself Corporal, as his company's translator in addition to his normal duties as a DLT
-19 gunner.
So far the rebels had been expectedly shy, not wanting to face the overwhelming firepower that the Empire had, but eventually they'd have to do something. He doubted they could hunt enough game or fish enough on the run to feed a group as large as their's. Estimated to be about about two thousand or so at the beginning of their deplyoment, had to be down to half that from weather and the 29th.
Norman blinked. Blinked again. A small bright interruption in the deadness of the plains, blaring hot. His heartrate spiked as another cluster of blobs found themselves bobbing his way. He began to key into his helmet and was interuppted by the blare of the DLTs positioned 50 meters either direction on his left and right, with another troop yelling contact into their headset. Muscle memory kicked in.
Steam rose off the heavy blaster's barrel as it spat plasma flying towards the advancing figures. His scope sparkled brilliantly as a rebels blaster bolt flew past his head, cinging the finish on his hooded helmet as he fired short bursts into the shapes, cursing and praying silently as he continued to fire. A rocket took out the pillbox to his left, sending a jet of flame, ice, dirt, and man flying into the air.
Norman fired a little faster.
------------------------------
Present-
Several tiny probes circled the green and blue orb of a planet at the reaches of the Diarchy, right on the edge of their frontier. A planet with no record that they could find, and a primitive but industrialized world of humans buzzing across the nine continents that dotted the oceans beneath them. The information had been quickly analyzed, processed, classified, and sent to the Network's analysts before being presented to the scarred man now standing, steadily, lazily, by a window. Who was now to present said information to some of the Diarchy's Chiefs, at least by his own etymology. His years of loyalty and undercover work had lent him the opportunity, to pitch an idea, that until recently hadn't been possible.
A thin, steady stream of smoke rolled from the end of Norman's cigarello as he looked out the conference room's decently sized starship rated safety glass at the ringed levels below. Far beneath Orinakra's barren wasteland of a surface sat a massive complex of bunkers and facilities sat in a set of rings. The levels went down untold meters, well into the planet's crust, the ring shape and gloomy views of the rock outside creating an odd ambiance uncomfortable for those that were unaccustomed to the oppressive architecture. For Mr. Trent, The bunker complex was his home, when not on assignment. He maintained a permanente apartment of sorts on the upper levels, and had no other life beyond his work. That part of him had died in his sleep, along with the rest of his life and all he'd known. His lip twitched slightly at the thought, the normal, occassional burst of pain.
The agent crushed the tightness in his chest into a ball and expelled it with a puff of smoke, no time for that now.
Like the rest of the complex the conference room was largely sterile, barren as the planet's surface, but in a clean, imperial manner. A long black table took up most of the room, with the lion share of the rest of the space being relegated to simple chairs, and a circular steel holoprojector sitting in the table's center. He pushed the device's remote, sending a blue, see thru image of a holographic planet into the empty space above it. Not long now.
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