Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Your ships are ugly. [Seraph]

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Nubia
Orbit
The elongated lines of stars snapped into solidarity as the single Wroshyr class fighter snapped back into realspace from the kaleidoscope of faster than light travel. Gloved hands flickered over the orange holographic displays, pumping power to the engines and shields as he banked the ship towards the planet below. Declan had never been here, but he had heard of it. Nubia was the gem of the Core Worlds.

Or at least that's what he had been told.

A finger twitched near the weapons systems, wanting to power them up. But there was no reason. No pirates were here, and the only weapons he had were his lasers and some proton torpedoes. Combine that with the sluggish beast this thing was and you were in for a rough time if you got pounced on. Easing the throttle forward now that the hyperdrive had shut down, he made a long arc around the curve of the planet to ease his way through the atmosphere rather than plowing through it and creating uncomfortable amounts of turbulence.

His was a delivery mission, to see if the Nubians could perhaps fine-tune the ship. They weren't to change the design, merely perfect it. Or at least that's what he had been lead to believe. Word was he was to meet a Jedi here, which made him more than a little curious. Still, he had his orders and he had his coordinates. Make the new guy a gopher, that was the way to break him in.

He hated being a gopher.

Sniffing faintly, he tiled the joystick and came in just above thick banks of cloud. Someone was having a gloomy day below, but up here it was nothing but sunshine. His comm crackled, someone likely trying to establish contact.

Turning his head to the left, a small screen appeared displaying frequencies - including the one struggling to reach him. One was marked as the one he was looking for, and was listed as 'Nubia Star Drives.' A finger tapped it, and the fighter reached out to try and reach flight control. Until they responded, he was going to keep cruising up here, out of easy reach of ground defenses.

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]
 
On the surface of the planet Nubia, within the hangar designated for arrivals and departures, separate from the manufacturing plants, the control tower received a ping on their radio transceiver.

"This is NSD Control Tower 4 responding to frequency channel 825.371; Uncleared vessel please state intent and cargo, if any."

Sera found herself sitting in a board room meeting, viewing holorecords of the engineering departments latest ventures in new tech, armaments, shielding, and hyperdrives. Collectively, they had a solid team of experts constantly pressing the boundaries of what was capable. Sera was no engineer, nor was the majority of her board of advisers. Though admittedly they all had relatively more experience in their respective fields than she, she was more or less the figurehead and PR face for the company. She was good for morale, and their employees seemed to like having her around, even if she wasn't always around.

The holovideo paused as her comm began to sound off. She always forgot to put the karking thing on silent during these meetings, and the board always gave her aggravated looks whenever it would go off. Instinctively she answered it, though this time she came to find it was coming from one of the control towers. "Miss Shel'tah, we just wanted to inform you of a ship that is making contact, it appears that they wish to land."

Excellent! An opportunity to escape the meeting had arisen. "Very well. I will be there momentarily." She smiled, placing her hands on the table as she rose to depart. "The meeting will be post-poned until I return. Carry on with your day, ladies and gentlemen."

[member="Archive"]
 

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The smooth line of the frequency spiked, then began to mark the undulations of the voice coming through. Turning his attention forward again, the communications screen faded back into its projector. "Uhh, Control... this is Wookiee One. The intent is to land." The man says sounding a bit amused, even if his accent was remarkably thick. Clipped, slightly burred, wherever he was from it was hard to tell.

"Ship also does not have a cargo hold." He says.

Part of him wondered if his superiors hadn't informed the Nubians he was coming. That would be awkward.

Highly awkward.

Making sure the safeties for his weapons were on, he muted his end of the comm while waiting for a response. "Ya know, Twombly. Some days I wonder how anything gets done around here." His gunner laughed, the sound mechanical and distant through his helmet. They were seperated while in the vessel, but he was OK with that. Didn't need the man trying to move around while he was flying, after all.

Easing his way down through the cloud layer, he angled towards the landing area. His IFF would identify him for them; Wroshyr-Class Assault Fighter, 160th Republic Starfighter Wing, Homebase of Ruusan. Long way from home, he was.

Actual home and base 'home.'

But he had his orders. Not like he was here of his own accord.

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]
 
A brief pause over the communication would follow by a slightly sarcastic radio controller response. "Roger, Wookiee One. You are cleared for landing at bay 4."

The transmission would cut off and below on the surface the landing pad would illuminate with a series of bright lights intended to assist in landing during evening hours or bad weather, though they were active regardless of whether it was daytime.

Sera headed over towards the landing zone via a small transport shuttle that would take a few minutes to arrive at the destination. Her guest would likely be on the ground before she made it, but he would be welcomed in and offered a place to wait while she made her way down. She hadn't received any agenda items that included offworld visits, or any scheduled meetings for the day, so a visitor was an unexpected savior for the weekly meeting with the board of directors and their constant squabbling between one another.

[member="Archive"]
 

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Following the landing tracks in, he kicked the repulsors into overdrive and lowered the landing gear for the freighter sized fighter. As he brought it in low, a small holographic representation of his ship appeared along with a small circle to denote the rough center of the landing pad. It allowed him to land the massive thing without smacking into a wall or the like. Even good depth perception couldn't fix the fact this thing was oversized.

Popping the canopy, he climbed out and motioned for Twombly to stay put. Someone, sure enough, came to greet them and offered to show them to a waiting area. Leftenant Hayes deferred, preferring to stick with the fighter for the time being.

They weren't expected, so he wouldn't impose. Just had to wait to see the Jedi in charge of this operation, whenever they showed up. In the meantime, he'd give the fighter a once over. Climbing back up, he began making his way along the wings, scanning for any visible signs of damage from the shields he was convinced were malfunctioning.

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]
 
Upon arriving, Sera hopped out of the transport and made her way to the docking bay where [member="Archive"] was still waiting. She was intrigued as to why he might be here, but was under the assumption that it was business related, since clearly the Jedi had no imminent need of her, and had far better ways to get in touch with her than to send someone to NSD as a messenger. Perhaps a business venture? Her board would love to hear about a deal being made without them. Not.

Sera took a lot of liberties as the CEO of the company, and even though she drew no personal paycheck outside of what was necessary for simplistic survival, the money was funneled back into the company for R&D and employee pay, the board of directors still weren't terribly keen on being last to know when deals were setup without their compliance.

Looking towards her new arrival and guest the Twi'lek paused a few meters away and gave a bow as their eyes met. "Hello there. I am Seraphina. I understand you were looking to speak with me? What can I do for you?"
 

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Hunched over the top of the massive fighter, Declan was busy dealing with some wiring that might just be causing the ghosting on the sensors. Emphasis was on the 'might' because he really wasn't sure and he really shouldn't have been doing this. Not that he cared. But a Twi'lek came into the hangar, and his head rose at the same time Twombly stared down from his spot in the turret.

Blinking momentarily, he unpolarized his visor, bright blue eyes regarding the Jedi for several moments before he slid down the shoulder of the craft and landed with a thud on the decking.

This was the first time he'd seen a pink Twi'lek. So there was always that.

Not to mention the... outfit.

"Uhh, well, I'm Leftanent Hayes, and that boy up there." He wagged a hydrospanner at the man giving a cheery wave in the turret bubble, "That's Flight Officer Twombly. We were ordered to come here to see about fine tuning this beauty here." He motioned to the ship. "But I take it ye weren't informed."

That seemed logical given the line of questioning. Brilliant move, Declan. Be an idiot in front of the Jedi.

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]
 
Sera nodded to both Hayes and Twombly respectively. "I apologize. I was not informed. Then again, I can't say I am really surprised. This place mostly runs itself, and occasionally I am left out of the loop on certain things. Such is the price one pays for being a Jedi and a business owner, I suppose." She walked about the craft, turning a few times to observe its' angles and features. It was a nice looking ship, kind of fat for her taste though.

"Fine tuning? What exactly were you looking to have done with it? Suppose it could use a diet." She laughed at her own joke, despite its' lack of substantial humor. She simply enjoyed the sleek look of the vessels that NSD produced. A taste for the shiny one could say. "Are you looking to have a fleet of these modified? Or just a single unit?"

[member="Archive"]
 

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