Dominion Altierior Motives | Galactic Alliance Dominion of Altier

[Spirit of Knowledge]

​

The junk world of Altier was meant to be an easy acquisition; while it was far from empty, extraction of all profit before "introduction" to the Alliance's markets should have been smooth for the veteran business-people of HayataCorp. Deploy security forces, throw some weight, reach some deals with local power players to secure local resources and labour, set up a front corporation or two to mask future ventures. Of course, it's never so simple, but the risks are usually manageable, the scandals easy to camouflage and downplay.

Not this one.

Last week a blast rocked the outskirts of New Deadline, one of Altier's few functioning cities. The explosion damaged New Deadline's main power plant, leaving a dozen dead, a hundred injured, and millions without power. Local authorities were left scrambling to investigate what happened and provide for New Deadline's citizens. The power plant itself was found to be beyond the city's means to repair.

Fortunately, as a newly-inaugurated member of the Galactic Alliance, the crisis on Altier was responded to swiftly. A large shipment of aid and supplies were sent to New Deadline, in addition to specialized parts and specialists to repair the power plant.

Unfortunately, those supplies were intercepted by the Blackridge Riders, a powerful gang operating near New Deadline, who are now asking a ransom for the parts and the people.

Dealbreaker​

The Blackridge Riders have offered to meet Alliance representatives to negotiate the freedom of the hostage engineers and parts. Alliance Defense Forces are far from Altier, but a small force of New Jedi and GADF have been gathered to ensure security – a tall task, given things are expected to turn sour.

Deadlines​

No groups have taken credit for the explosion at the plant, but it is far more likely to be foul play than a freak accident. Investigate what happened, interview the survivors, and get to the bottom of the crisis. The Chancellor herself is putting pressure on the SIA and Marshals to get results quickly.

Deadlocked​

Back on Coruscant, the Chancellor is hosting an event for key Senators (and, of course, the rich and famous) at the Galactic Museum. While ostensibly a charity event to raise money for a new wing of the museum, rumours have been swirling in the Senate that the Chancellor wants to repeal – or, at least, amend – the Southern Interplanetary Linkages Trade Route Act. With this apparent failure of the Hayata Corporation, it seems a prime opportunity for anti-corporatist political figures to discuss next steps, and equally a chance for the corporatists to shore up apparent weakness and keep their ears to the ground.

BYOO​

Gangs, junkyards, and humanitarian efforts are in abundance. Altier's your oyster, though a junk world is a difficult place to find pearls. Yet, as they always say: one man's trash is another man's treasure.

​

 

[Auteme]

Galactic Museum | Grand Hall​

"...the Alliance has pledged a hundred million credits to the Museum for the construction of the Galactic Cultures Gallery -- soon to be the largest of its kind in the galaxy, with full exhibition space for the history and culture of dozens of planets to be put on display. Our nation is a veritable tapestry of living history, and learning about each other can only serve to unify us further."

She smiled, pausing for the cameras, before finally raising her glass. "In a time of crisis, it is always prudent to reflect on ourselves and remind ourselves what is at stake when we fight. To unity, history, and the Alliance."

Her toast finished, she took a modest sip of the sparkling wine they'd just started serving; a low cheer and light applause followed. It hadn't been much of a speech -- unity, reminders, history. Easy and simple. She wanted it to go quickly, so she could talk to the Senators who'd gathered here. And she wanted to talk to the Senators quickly, so she could escape and explore the museum. The last time she'd been here she'd only managed a few floors; this was the sort of building she could spend a lifetime in.

So little time. There were more pressing matters to attend to. She scanned the crowd as she descended the steps onto the hall's floor, looking for the first of the night.

 

[Damian Du Couteau]

Damian Du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Location: Altier
Objective: BYOO
Outfit

Junk planets as they were often called among the higher nobility and executive expansion planners, Damian was hardly one to say such unkind words but it certainly was an apt description. Not that Teta looked any better after the Maw’s invasion and subsequent liberation months later. But we had the credits to rebuild and resume business quickly. Damian looked on with a somewhat woeful expression as his speeder passed yet another large junkyard.

There was a Senatorial meeting being held elsewhere on the planet of Altier, young Du Couteau heir instead placed an older staff-member to represent Teta. The man was apart of his late father’s staff, so it wasn’t an unusual request, as far as the Staffer was concerned he was used to such responsibilities. I wonder how overworked my father was. . . Damian looked back inside the speeder to inspect his data-slate once again.

Damian nodded to one of his staffers and the speeder slowly descended down in front of one of the larger junkyard and scrap processing yards. Quickly tightening his clothes around himself, he made his way out of the speeder’s ramp and towards a small building marked as the office. His arrangement here required him to source enough scrap and junk yard processing plants to collectivize them into a formal coalition.

And once that is done the Her Majesty’s Royal Mining Guild of Teta can formalize relations and establish work contracts. Damian figured that was what his late father intended with the Mining Guild after-all, attempting to wrestle control of market share from other Corporations would be a difficult fight. But collectivizing the workers and having them join up with an expansive Union? Damian wrestled his fidgeting and proceeded to enter into the dingy office.
​

|| @Open ||​

 

[Sonya Provost]

Auteme | Open
​

Sonya was beginning to feel very small, all of a sudden.

Not that she showed it, ever-confident in manner and poise even as she stood at a distance from the Chancellor’s address. Baring weakness served no purpose in her agenda. But the reality of the situation settled in harshly, reminding her that while the name of Sonya Provost was a big deal on Montitia — Montitia was not a big deal anywhere else.

The event itself was crucial. Too crucial to back out of now. It was Sonya’s chance to make a name for herself within the Assembly, and start things off on the right foot. The fledgling senator raised her glass in accordance with the toast, before taking a sip. Her peers would very quickly learn that she was not one to mince words on matters she felt passionate about.

Corporate overreach chief among them.

 

[Jasper Kai'el]

Altier, BYOO
Tags: Open

Jasper knew that he wouldn't be needed at the negotiations with the Blackridge Riders. If the team present was too bloated, there was no way they'd be able to negotiate effectively without hostilities. And, of course, he was no senator. So what was a Jedi to do? What was a Jasper to do? The answer seemed pretty obvious, really. Altier was a junk world, after all, full of damaged vehicles simply sitting and going to waist. He was a mechanic. The two factors seemed to fit together and form a pretty obvious solution. So, he set the Lonestar 1 down in one of the various junk yards, near New Deadline in order to respond to anything with the ongoing negotiations if need be, and got to work.

It took him a bit to find a vehicle worth salvaging, an old Dustskimmer, which could prove to be a valuable transport. Almost immediately, he clambered up to the top of the transport and began ripping out fried or weathered components, taking note of all the inner workings he would have to replace. As he worked, a small group of locals had begun to gather. Jasper gave them a look of acknowledgement, but continued to work, fishing a good component out of a satchel on his back and welding it into the large terrestrial vehicle. Before long, others were doing the same, taking off panels and removing bad components to make room for good ones. Nothing needed to be said. Jasper had spent time as a scrapper back on Corellia in his exile. He had worked on community projects like it before. They didn't need planning, or any kind of negotiations. There were some actions that people just understood. A way of life, you could say.

Before long, more large terrestrial transports were being hauled into the clearing they had made, all different makes and models. Some were clearly, at one point, used for temporary shelter. Others storage units for bits of salvageable scrap. It told a story, one that went unseen because a junk world was only ever seen as just that: Junk. Jasper would leave the negotiations and boujee charity events to someone else. He would stick to what he knew best, and what he knew would have value on a world like Altier. Judging by the salvageable vehicles that had been found, there was a lot of work that needed to be done.

 

[Lyrrin]

Objective Deadlines​

Tags: [Open]

Lyrrin looked at the junk ridden ground beneath his feet then looked up to several humans that were huddled around one another whispering in hushed tones. They were obviously attempting to keep a low profile though that didn't seem to be much to go on as far as suspicions. The agent turned towards the direction a pair of Marshals had gone, a Rodian and a Twi'lek he didn't catch the names of. Lyrrin had arrived with several other investigators at the behest of the Chancellor's lobbying of their respective agencies. A variety of Marshals, Sector Rangers, SIA Agents, and even some he got the sneaking suspicion of being Jedi in disguise were present in the area - although well dispersed to cover as much ground as possible.

As Lyrrin turned in place to observe the area he spotted another small group of denizens though unlike the ones he had first seen, this group seemed to be a bit more animated. They were tossing their arms about in wild gestures and seemed to be arguing. Lyrrin readied himself to be verbally berated for interrupting and as he neared them he lifted a clawed hand in greeting "Name's Lyrrin, I'm part of the Alliance investigation into the explo-" he was cut off by a woman who glared at him intensely "Nobody asked. Get lost Feddy." Lyrrin cocked an eyebrow in surprise at the response and then jabbed a thumb in her direction while looking to the others in the group "She's friendly isn't she?" Lyrrin glanced back to her and put his hands on his hip "Listen. I don't like you either. You're weird and dirty looking but hey, I got a job to do so I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer them." the defiant woman sized the Farghul up "Or what? Gonna arrest me?" the agent mocked a gasp "Heavens no!" he leaned in and poked her shoulder with enough force to turn it slightly "If you don't willingly answer I'll just toss you in a speedervan and you can go down for treason, abetting this whole crime thing. No need for arrest paperwork or reading of rights. Just right on off to Belsavis - that's our secret prison planet by the way." he straightened up as she protested "You're corrupt." to which Lyrrin quickly parried "And you're a Banthahole. See? I can be one to. Either way I'm going to need your names to start. If you fake it I'll know, consider it a test of trust!" the agent smiled darkly as he lifted a scanner towards the woman's face. It began to beep and shained a grid pattern of blue light over her face "So, who are you?"

 

[Aurorae]

Dealbeaker​

"We go in, secure the hostages, then the supplies. Only when the engineers are safe." Back up plans and redundancies. Aurorae clipped on her mask just as the datafeed came in. Information on the Raiders, their location, what could be scouted out without tipping them off. Heat scans, com scans. Anything and everything she could request had been. Negotiations with criminals like these Blackridge could only go south.

And when it did, she wanted her team in place to secure the prisoners before the gang decided to start offing them as a message. It wasn't exactly Shadow work, but it was experience. Experience she certainly needed if she wanted to infiltrate Sith strongholds or the like. She cast a glance towards one of the soldiers. Her second in command for this op.

"We ready?"

[Open]

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Grand Hall, Galactic Museum
Deadlocked​

A Charity event for a Museum's expansion, how delightful. So many rich, powerful, and sociable parties would be in attendance. Yes, pretending to like most of the people was tiring, but the ends were worth the means. Besides, every now and again you met someone truly enjoyable to have a conversation with. Someone that understood what you were saying.

Auteme was busy gracing the gnats with a speech so they'd gorge themselves and fly off to bother others. She always knew how to conduct herself. Just because they didn't truly see eye to eye didn't mean they had to be enemies.

Speaking of which, Vexx glided by a young senator, Sonya Provost , whose disposition was... adversarial. Dominique smiled to herself as she resumed spiraling in toward Auteme as the ringleader of the event behind the event set foot on the Grand Hall's floor. Oh, how rude of her not to invite Sonya along. Must have just missed one another.

"Chancellor," Dominique called out pleasantly as she drew near, "a pleasure to find you here. You certainly do know how to draw a crowd. The Museum's new gallery is sure to be the envy of the galaxy at this rate." Auteme was, of course, more interested in such things than Vexx herself. It didn't hurt to compliment the woman on her ability to assemble her forces (even if they were a militia of credits). Besides, the museum didn't interfere with any of her's -- or Denon's -- affairs so why not see what marvel was built? The Alliance's coffers were plentiful enough for it.

Auteme | Sonya Provost | Open​

 

[Desric Terassi]

Sonya Provost || Auteme | Dominique Vexx​

Desric was not a Senator, per se, but he had recently been informed that he had one foot past the door - all he had to do was charm some politicians better than two competitors. They were hardly unsuitable, but they did not work in PR.

He did.

He liked his chances.

The Chancellor might have been a more obvious target, but he found his attention drawn to Senator Provost instead. New to the office and fiercely opposed to corporate abuses of power. Exactly the kind of person it would be in his interest to establish a friendly discourse with before he had a Senator in front of his name and [Corporatist] after it.

"Quite the collection, is it not," He noted, his tone genuine, before turning a smile towards Sonya. "Senator Provost, no? Your election was quite the exciting one, I hear. Desric Terassi." At that, he extended a soft hand in greeting.

 

[Caulder Dune]

ALTIER - NEW DEADLINE
OFFICE OF THE CHIEF ADMINISTRATIVE EXECUTIVE

New Deadline did not have a mayor. "Mayor" gave the wrong impression. New Deadline had a "Chief Administrative Executive" - a weequay named Hilbas. And his title gave the more accurate impression of "this is a person appointed directly to do this job of governance by a massive and inscrutable corporate entity."​

​

Caulder wrinkled his nose as he entered into his office, assaulted almost immediately by an acrid and unpleasant smell. Hilbas chain smoked with a remarkable, mechanical efficiency - as if he were a droid purpose-designed for the task.​

​

Extract. Light. Inhale. Dispose - smashed into an overflowing ashtray. Cheap products for a doubtlessly cheap man, if New Deadline's state were anything to go by.​

​

"They're going to fire me, so I don't know what you want," Hilbas said, before Caulder seated himself or even said anything. He flicked a stray stub off of his desk, into a corner, where it landed in the planter of a dead fern, "They only let me stay for now to answer questions for the feds. Then when I'm out, the feds skin me. And that's that. I got nothing for you."​

​

Why was everyone always so eager to seem like they were ahead of the curve? They usually weren't.​

​

"A novel prediction. Might I offer my own?"​

​

Hilbas paused his reach for the cigarra carton, bloodshot eyes flicking to Dune. "Sure. I love stories."​

​

"HayataCorp is eager to wash their hands of the scandal in this territory. They are exploring the possibility of transferring ownership of New Deadline and the surrounding scrapyards."​

​

"To you."​

​

Caulder smiled, politely and without producing any teeth, "The Commerce Guild is greater than just myself."​

​

"Uh-huh. You say that, but it's just you here, right now. I bet it's just you everywhere else too, right?"​

There were many reasons that Caulder Dune was not eager to allow Hilbas to continue down that line of inquiry.

"Would you like to remain employed with New Deadline, Hilbas, or would you like 'the feds' to… What was that phrase you used?"​

​

"Skin me," Hilbas repeated, frowning to himself. His fingers drummed the rim of the cigarra carton.​

​

"If only they were so benign," Caulder mused aloud before continuing, "The Guild will require someone with your, shall we say, 'local expertise' if the sale goes through. You and anyone worthwhile in your administration."​

​

Hilbas snorted. "There won't be much."​

​

"Perhaps not. I prefer it to the alternative."​

​

Hilbas narrowed his eyes, watching Dune with suspicion. "I want to keep my office."​

​

Not that they would have been able to find someone willing to take it. Doubtless the cigarra stench had already sunk into the walls, the carpets, the furniture…​

​

"That can be arranged."​

​

"And I want a raise. A big one."​

​

Chump change.​

​

"Of course. Anything else?"​

​

Hilbas seemed genuinely thoughtful for a few moments, "Hayata shut down all the brothels. Everyone wants the brothels back. Can you swing that?" He leaned back in his chair, momentarily forgetting his cigarra habit, and folded his arms across his chest, "It's good for morale around here."​

​

Caulder thinned his lips. "I'll look into it."​

​

He would not look into it.​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Obj: Dealbreaker
Cailen Corso Aurorae

Cora bit her lower lip, nodding along with Aurorae's instruction. On its surface, the task was simple—rescue the hostages, then secure the parts if possible. Even with her relative inexperience as a Jedi, Cora had whitenessed plenty of political negotiations go sour. Her homeworld of Ukatis operated on a feudal system, and nobility often squabbled over lands, treaties, and trade deals. She knew just enough to know how poorly things could go.

It was a tenuous dance, and lives hanging in the balance made it all the more intense.

Meeting Aurorae's masked gaze, the Padawan nodded firmly.

"Ready."

Then turning to Cailen, she whispered in a hushed tone so that only he could hear;

"I'm not sure if I'm ready, to be honest."

 

[Alicio Organa]

DEADLOCKED
GALACTIC MUSEUM, CORUSCANT
​

Alicio lingered like a specter at the edge of the gathered crowd, un-sipped drink in one hand, cane propped elegantly in the other. Never one for the cameras or spotlights, the Alderaanian senator nonetheless had a fair few droids buzz up to his face, which he tried his best to ignore, a quiet, unobtrusive presence darkening the museum.

He found it in him to smile and nod as Chancellor Auteme Denko-Durren finished her speech. He tried to take that particular lesson to heart- the cultures of the Alliance were varied and storied, each worth their own moment in the spotlight.

As the crowd began to intermingle, the Count took a moment to survey the shifting territory. It was something he had gotten better at, as of late; seeing the political landscape heave and groan, the mixing of the parties, the hiss of lava against water.

He spied quickly as the Chancellor joined the group, and was quickly singled out by Dominique Vexx , senator of Denon. A glint entered Alicio's eye. A challenge.

Lava, meet water.

Alicio dove into the thick of the talking, ending up beside Chancellor Denko-Durren and Senator Vexx. "Quite the tapestry," the Count agreed with the Corporatist, using Auteme's own metaphor with a tiny smile. "Compliments to the weavers. I can't wait to tour the new rooms."

"I don't believe we've officially met." Alicio inclined his head to Dominique, as his hands were full. "I'm Alicio."

- Sonya Provost - Desric Terassi -

 

[Jand Talo]

DEADLINES

The Galactic Alliance shuttle approached the still-damaged power plant.

There was a contingent of Alliance personnel that arrived at the site, each tasked with discovering what - or who - had caused the explosion to the building. The exterior area was still in a state of controlled chaos, with small groups that moved about, collecting and marking points on the ground or debris, intent on preserving evidence for assessment. Others maintained a security perimeter, mainly to keep unauthorized sentients out, until the Alliance could complete their work.

For Jand, the situation was not his typical one. More often than not, the Nagai was on the frontline or at least close to combat, with his particular skills being useful in those engagements. Yet, today, it seemed his less common, and apparently more beneficial, ability to use the mysterious skill of Psychometry was needed. There were hopes that, through Jand's visions and interaction with the damaged structure, the culprits might be discovered or clues gained to assist in the effort.

Jand kept to himself for the most part, assigned to the task, and waited for the shuttle to land.

It did so, with a subtle bump of landing struts.

"We're here, let's see what we're dealin' with, folks," Said one of the forensics team, as the rear shuttle door opened, the rampway lowered. "Might be some specialists comin' in, so if they have the clearance, you listen to 'em. Let's get to work!"

With a glance left to right, Jand stood with the others and followed the forensics crew out of the shuttle. He didn't really know what was expected of him, aside from providing insight into the various objects or environment as the Force permitted, so it was mostly just the Padawan following the group.

"Padawan Talo," Called the forensics lead, a Twi'lek. She beckoned him over, as she flipped a datapad. "We've had some preliminary locations marked out, but we're gonna go ahead and narrow that down. When the team finds anythin' interestin', we'll call you over to check it out, mmkay?"

"I understand," Jand nodded. "I will... wait here, until then."

"Sounds good," The Bothan grinned, then turned and started toward the rest of the forensics group. She called over her shoulder. "Feel free to wander, investigate, see what you can see... just avoid movin' too much around."

Jand nodded again. He sighed, as his gray stare looked around the area.

"I understand."

Jand started to wander around...

Open​

 

[Auteme]

Dominique Vexx Alicio Organa | Sonya Provost Desric Terassi ​

Auteme smiled to Vexx. "Ah, Senator Vexx -- I'm hoping not to invite much envy. More reflection. But thank you. I hope to make the museum more diverse, and accessible."

They were soon joined by Senator Organa. Though Auteme's smile didn't waver, her eyes turned up ever so slightly; he was the sort of person she was looking for here, and it was always encouraging to see fellow young, progressive faces in places like this. Even if it made her feel old.

"My, my, Senator Organa -- I know we're not on the Senate Floor, but this is still a formal event. You really must introduce yourself in full, especially when our friend here has been so courteous in addressing me." She smiled and laughed.

"I-" with Alicio so close, a miniature vision flashed into her mind, and her eyes flicked momentarily to his cane. "I appreciate your support in this endeavour as well. It's the Chancellor's duty to be that weaver, to strengthen our nation. And, to safeguard it against all things that might undo that work.

"I've heard they'll be installing state-of-the-art security systems, along with the new exhibitions. So many cultural heritages in one place -- well, they mustn't be tarnished. It makes me want to update my own security." She laughed.

"Speaking of which -- have you heard the news? The bombing on Altier. One of their cities, entirely without power. All right under the nose of the Hayata Corporation's finest. I'm quite curious as to what happened."

 

[Elizie Athacorr]

Galactic Museum
Auteme Sonya Provost Dominique Vexx Alicio Organa Desric Terassi
​

She was keeping herself more aloof from the main action around the Chancellor, a flute of mineral water in hand as she floated from exhibit to exhibit. or made a passing comment to another patron of the event. The topic of conversation was, of course, the bombing on Altier and the embarrassment it was for HayataCorp.

Giving a smile of departure from the last group she mingled with, she came to a stop to regard another exhibit. A representation of the Five Brothers, done in glass and what she thought might be synth-crystal, twinkled under the overhead lights and no doubt security scanners.

Even as she admired the art piece, she was tracking who was mingling with the Chancellor and noting who approached her and who the Chancellor approached herself. There were whispers in the Senate backrooms of a quiet push to either amend or completely rescind the more business-friendly legislation that had led Altier to be under its current influences and she had no doubt it was Auteme working for support for such moves.

Taking a sip of her drink, she just continued to admire the art of what would have been, and should have been, her homeworld if events had not gone differently in her life.

 

[Damian Du Couteau]

Damian Du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Location: Altier
Objective: BYOO
Outfit

His larger sleeves proved to be a rather prudent fashion choice on Damian’s behalf, his fingers could fidget without judgemental eyes. The older gentleman in front of the young Du Couteau heir was reading through the proposal on his data-slate. Well, a bit of a rougher sort of gentlemen. His thoughts and musings slowly turned back to the matter directly in front of him, the older gentleman cleared his throat and placed the data-slate down. The desk that the slate was placed on was made of some sort of speeder frame, the scratches and dents indicating a wealth of history.

Damian met the gaze of the gentleman and both nodded before he spoke, “-You seem rather young for this type of job.” His voice was low and deep, the aged sound of a man who's worked for far too long for far too little.

A thoughtful expression crossed Damian’s face, “You have kind, soft eyes.” A rather out of left field statement, Damian stood up to take a step closer, stopping right in front of the metal desk.

“-If you agree to our terms I will guarantee that you and your coworkers and friends will finally be given a chance to rest. . ."

"-and the future sons and daughters that pick up your banner will not have the same thick callus on your hands, their joints won’t hurt after work and they can think months ahead instead of days with what to do with their credits.” Damian spoke, his voice soft but a bit louder than what he had originally intended.

“And most importantly.” Damian began to add, his gaze maintained on the older gentleman in front of him; “-For as long as I’m alive I will keep our promise. . . and that’ll be plenty of years given my age.” Damian concluded with a faint smile that tugged the corners of his lips.

The older gentleman nodded again and gave a short chuckle as he stretched out his hand towards Damian. The young Du Couteau heir raised his eyebrows, and with a silent thanks to his fingers no longer fidgeting, he met the rough callus hand with his own much softer and smaller hand.

“You have a deal.”

Damian’s smile solidified, Well time to do this again with the next scrapyard owner.
​

 

[Sonya Provost]

Desric Terassi
Auteme | Dominique Vexx | Alicio Organa | Elizie Athacorr
​

Sonya watched as the people dispersed into their own little groups, making a mental note of a few that she might like to speak to at one time or another. And those she might not. A chat with the Chancellor herself would certainly be a way to jump right into things, but to an extent Sonya was silently grateful that she had been caught up in a conversation with a few of the others instead.

The Senator had neglected to notice the one who approached her, until he spoke. She blinked and turned around, pausing a moment as she registered Desric's question. "Quite," Sonya repeated, offering him a practiced smile as they exchanged hands, "If by exciting you mean exhausting," She chuckled. The whole affair was a draining one, but she never lost her stride. With a wave of her fingers, Sonya backtracked, "But, no- I am proud of what we achieved. Now it's just a matter of making something of it, hm?" Unseat the incumbent party, which had remained in control since before Sonya had even been born, was no small feat. Not on Montitia.

She raised an eyebrow, studying the name of the young man in front of her, "Terassi… You're not a senator are you? What brings you here tonight?"

 

[Cailen Corso]

ALTIERIOR MOTIVES
Dealbreaker: A Star Wars Story

Location: Blackridge Outpost, Altier
Tags: Corazona von Ascania ; Aurorae
Objective 1: Dealbreaker
Soundtrack: Quiet Watchers

"We go in, secure the hostages, then the supplies. Only when the engineers are safe."

Cailen nodded, his face stoic and focused, but on the inside his nerves were getting the better of him. Fighting on an open battlefield was one thing (and required its own demand of mental and physical fortitude), but going against a band of mercenaries with civilian lives at stake? That rattled the Padawan. There was so much that could go wrong. Nevertheless, he tried hard kept his cool and listened carefully to Aurorae .

If there was any chance of a non-confrontational extraction, it was by her lead.

"Ready."

"Ready," he repeated. Despite his apprehensions, he looked to Corazona von Ascania with a reassuring smile.

"We can do this," he whispered to her. "You can do this."

 

[Valery Noble]

Altier

​

Outfit: Operative Suit
Appearance: Link
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsaber
Tag: Lyrrin | Open

Dressed up in her undercover suit, and even with her own blasters strapped to her belt alongside her lightsaber, Valery walked through the area, searching for a familiar face she knew would be involved here. It was a long time ago that she worked officially as an SIA operative, a Jedi Shadow, but he had been one of her preferred colleagues for working together at the time. Lyrrin was a close friend and someone she could rely on.

While she had no authority here, she hoped to be able to help him this time.

After several minutes of walking around whilst trying to keep attention away from her, Valery spotted him... in what appeared to be an unpleasant discussion. Not that the woman would really get to him, but it certainly held up progress on the investigation efforts.

"So, who are you?" Lyrrin asked her.

"None of your business. I don't have to talk to you," she snapped back. "I have rights."

"You do, but the longer this takes, the longer you'll be stuck here," Valery assured her when she finally made her way over. She beamed Lyrrin a Didn't think you'd see me here, huh? kind of grin, "Lyrrin," she said calmly as if this was the most normal thing in the world. Finally, her eyes turned back to the woman to await her response.

 

[Aurorae]

Dealbreaker​

Cailen.

For a moment the masked visage lingered on him. Valery wouldn't let him here unless she was certain he could handle himself. In that, Aurorae could trust. She'd have to, for now. With their nods she pulled off the nondescript lightsaber on her hip. Readied herself. Similarly the soldiers around them did the same. A small squad of six, Jedi not included. "Remember, stay out of sight. If we get seen, people will die."

A reminder for the Padawans. The others knew all too well. Their transport landed atop the building with a gentle thud before the doors opened. No lights, just the darkness of the night sky as Aurorae leapt down. Her mask was already scanning for heat signatures. Two, right around the rooftop door. Behind it. They'd picked this time right between shifts to get a landing out of sight.

She sped along, hand on the door. Waiting for one of the heat signatures to leave. They did, heading downstairs to report back to the others. The other, towards the roof. Once he was at the door she opened it, dove in. A silenced shot went off from one of the soldiers as she caught the now corpse to gently lower it to the ground and pull it out of sight. Her com activated, her voice silenced by her mask.

:: Take the radio. We move in. Start floor by floor. We have thirty minutes before a radio check. ::

Cailen Corso | Corazona von Ascania