Amaran rogue investigator, slicer and researcher
Saram Kote
Todblaz Graker
Our Target: The Bloodshot, the Military Intelligence and Surveillance vessel operated by our Person of Interest, Rear Admiral Gath Harnin, an exceptionally fat human of girth that is only as ample as his appetite for sadism and the younger recruits fresh out of the Galactic Alliance's Military Academies. Unconfirmed rumors spread among higher and lower-ranking officers alike in the Galactic Alliance Navy have revealed details too graphic and specific in their nature, combined with the Admiral's penchant for secrecy when off-duty, and actions that border on being worthy of dishonorable discharge, though he always seems to avoid such a fate. Either he knows how to lose a trail while keeping his worst inclinations in check - publicly, at least, or he's bribing the right higher-ups or he's just plain blessed by the Force's Dark Side.
Holonet rumors on official military channels built up and, at this point, the eccentric Amaran outcast and independent philosopher Zefgahld Qojex was contacted by a concerned Commodore in the GA Navy, on Coruscant. Harnin, his higher up, had attempted to frame him as having an affair with a Zeltron holovid star, and, to add insult to injury, a few of the Commodore's men had leveled accusations of harassment, emotional abuse and... Unwanted contact, of all things, back at Harnin. The Bloodshot's crew had vouched for the Rear Admiral, for the most part, in a shocking turn of events, over the course of two years worth of operations together, and, time and time again, the Navy Police had dismissed all attempts at a proper investigation, either due to lack of evidence or due to lackluster, poor handling of the cases that had been repeatedly leveled...
The Commodore had supplied two Heavy R-Wings for this clandestine operation as a last resort. Headstrong and defiant, Commodore Jalrin Relz had hired a small team of independents and shared a scheduled maintenance briefing with them - with only a skeleton crew in place and the Admiral's quarters at the least guarded as they were going to be, for the foreseeable future, the Commodore, perhaps stupidly and risking his reputation, as well as the lives of these three Spacers and one droid, had hired a strange, eclectic team to retrieve as much information from the corrupt Admiral as they could, doubtlessly ensconced away in his computer's files, according to one traumatized shipman who had been doing technical work for the man...
(Next time, I'll try to shorten my TERRIBLE opening crawls...)
Links:
Bloodshot:
Approved Starship - Invector-class Monitor Frigate
OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION Intent: To create a monitor frigate to provide surveillance over sectoral borders. Canon Link: Not Applicable Image Source: Howard Day Permissions: Sienar Intelligence Systems [ Open-Market ] - Skyeye Probe Droids Lucerne Labs [ Closed-Market - Permission ] -...
Heavy R-Wings: https://www.starwarsrp.net/threads/r-wing-heavy-space-superiority-starfighter.132564/
Denon, Inner Rim
In Orbit - planet's night side
0417 Local Time
"Y'know, it's kinda funny if you all think about it..."
The gentle thrum of the Heavy R-Wing's engines reverberated lightly around a pair of most unlikely companions: an Amaran and, of all things, a brown-haired, fair-skinned woman a few years older then the youthful she-fox, by about five years, at least.
Without waiting for a response, and, directing her gaze first to the ship's console before her, she spoke to the outboard ship's comm, to the pilot adrift in the Heavy R-Wing just to her port side - his name was
Todblaz Graker
, as well as to the Mandalorian whom Commodore Jalrin Relz had hired, from Light-Knows-Where and lastly to the flickering, shadow-like holo-image of a stocky, crag-fleshed and (literally) stone-faced, stout Imroosian male, his exotic purple hair-spikes, crystal-like (and handsome, he'd been assured) and jutting at eccentric angles atop that boulder-like head. The Amaran affixed the older lithoid alien with a respectful, if crooked, left-sided smile."We're targeting a sadistic, fat military rapist on a Galactic Alliance Ship - G-A-S - who has a penchant for luxurious meals and being rather prodigal with his payments, so lavish and unnecessary, for a Naval man... Nothing more then a show of vanity and greed, as my Godfather would say."
The Imroosian rolled his gem-like eyes, their handsome gold easily obscured and lost in the dark blue that the holocomm portrayed them as. So strange and unnatural, even as it somewhat dulled his hair-spikes coloration.
His deep, thrumming voice echoed over the comm's line, "And you're foolish enough to say that on a comms channel within range of surveillance vessel, of all things." He rumbled, a protruding eyebrow lifting quizzically as he continued, "Don't you know how stealth works in the cold expanse?"
"Apparently not..." The Amaran grunted, even as she gave the older Stone a warm, affectionate smile, "I'll see you next week for your Shirrtav's Life Day, alright? Assuming this goes well... Also, the ship's getting it's fighter wing maintained, and most of the crew is asleep or on R&R, we should have an easy time of this. Easier then you think... It'll be over soon."
Without waiting for a response, the she-fox blew the Imroosian a kiss, ending the gesture in a light and fond wave, her gray-furred hand partially covered by a fingerless black glove, clawed fingers coming to rest on the ship's dual-pronged yoke. Rolling her head atop her thin, gray-furred neck, the Amaran used a free hand to brush along the oiled, navy blue Gundark leather that composed the duster she had donned for this... Really stupid idea.
"Alright, Graker and Kote - doesn't that sound like a cantina special? - Let's see if we can stun baton that guy where he really deserves it, and get into his quarters. The computer is our primary objective, but feel free to... Uh... Acquire anything in his quarters that might play into our under-the-table investigation, should you think it fit into the grand scheme of things."
A clawed finger flashed over the ship's control panel, sending a warm electronic signal up towards the astromech slotted into their borrowed R-Wing: purple-trimmed and otherwise solid, bone-white, his emerald photoreceptor scanned the empty space before them. The pilot's display read out - in binary - the astromech's droll response: it seemed the Amaran's droid, S19-C93 (OOC: I LOVE these damn things - classic astromech cool with an intricate boxlike design!), was in a rather grumpy and resigned mood today!
Ignoring the droid's crass attitude and engaging the thrusters, the Amaran shifted the yoke lightly with both hands, smiling left sidedly as she looked over towards where
Todblaz Graker
's ship was slowly receding."Colonel Cracker, lock S-foils in closed position and form up behind Armor-All (I'm a nicknamer) and I... Let's pin this lard-ass to the wall - and not in the way he might want - and get Commodore Relz's information."
"May the Light's Justice be served, and may the Force be with us..."
After a moment, the shipboard comms crackled, and Zef tried to be friendlier to her two partners-in-crime, "Say, Cracker and Armor... Why did you two take this job, might I wonder?"
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