Baby, Make me Sick | First Order Dominion of Ketal Hex

[Luther Lewis]

Location: Main settlement, two blocks from the well poisoned by [member="Malcolm Denwich"].
Equipment: Concealed Hold-out blaster, stiletto.
Objective: Prevent local police force from responding to the situation.

​

Luther handed an exorbitant price over to the shopkeeper and admired his new purchase. It was a silvery, elongated stiletto. Luther usually didn't bother with such fancy equipment, but the knife was sturdy, designed very much for use as well as design. Unfortunately, the shopkeeper knew this as well, and Luther couldn't be bothered haggling the price down. He stowed the blade and left the shop.

Callaghan was talking to some delinquents loitering outside. The Sheriff looked up at Luther briefly, causing the boys to take their chance and flee. He let out a long stretch of swears and approached Luther. "Those kids get on my nerves, but their not really any trouble. Did you get what you need?" Luther held up the bundle of rope he'd bought in conjunction to the weapon. "Alright, I've got a something I need to check out. Shouldn't be too much of a hassle and you need to see some more, so why don't you come with?" Luther nodded and they hopped into the Sheriff speeder.

​

"Where are we headed?" Luther asked. Callaghan let out a deep sigh. "Some old coot says he's been poisoned" the Sheriff said, and Luther's stomach dropped. "Standard stuff unfortunately. 'My neighbor's drugged me!' " he finished with an exaggerated 'old-timer' accent. "Shouldn't he have called some sort of doctor?" Luther asked. Callaghan shook his head. "This is why it's probably nothing. Man says he is fine, just a fever." Luther said nothing, his stomach churning. He knew about the toxin of course, though he wasn't sure if it was a pathogen or a poison. All the bureau told him is that he was protected and that other agents would handle the distribution. 'This can't be a coincidence' he thought. He unconsciously reached under his vest, his hand settling on the hidden blaster. 'No' he thought. 'I'll bide my time, maybe he won't be suspicious'.

- - - - -​

​

"Can't help but think this looks mighty suspicious" Callaghan remarked. Luther couldn't blame him, the man who had called was lying dead on the floor. His face contorted in pain, his fingers clenched tightly. Cause of death wasn't that clear, but the man was in agony before death. 'He only had a fever when he called us' Luther thought with horror. 'What on earth have we done to him?' Luther heart was beating fast now. He needed to divert the Sheriff attention. "Yeah sure does, maybe we should start with the neighbor?" Callaghan shook his head. "Didn't know it was Elliot calling or I wouldn't have made that joke. Most of the neighbors are either dead or moved out. Few live in this poor district". He walked to the kitchen.

"Maybe the food?" Luther said, looking at the moldy pantry. Callaghan shook his head, harder this time. "Elliot was an old war vet. He would only eat MREs, the lazy coot. No I'm pretty sure I know what did this". He picked up a large plastic bottle full of water. "The old man was fit for his age, mostly 'cause he'd walk to the well to get water. Ain't no way he died from anything else but this". He reached for his comms. "Sorry Tim, I gotta make a call. I'll just be-" he lost his breath as Luther punched him in the gut. Luther wasn't sure what caused him to unleash such a reckless move. All he knew was that he couldn't let someone find the source of the toxin.

He drew his blaster and leveled it at Sheriff Callaghan. "Sorry but I can't let you make that call..."

|[member="The Major"]|​

 

[Progflaw99]

Inner Rim \\ Ketal System \\ Outskirts
Command Deck \\ FIV Eidolon \\ Primary Weapons Console
Lieutenant Mattox, Liana E. \\ FIrst Order Naval Officer

So engrossed in her ongoing weapons diagnostics, or maybe daydreaming, Liana's attention was brought rushing back to the present as the voice of their commanding officer rang out across the deck. “If I may have your attention. I know that I am a new face to many of you and that one of our first assignments is... for lack of a better term, entirely tedious and a waste of such talented individuals. However, it seems that Central Command has relayed new parameters to our mission here at Ketal.” The Lieutenant's face scrunched silently as she thought to herself. She couldn't argue there. It had been her hope to serve under the now returned Fleet Admiral Rausgeber, instead she'd been assigned to one of the newest additions to the Admiralty - an Astarii Saren. She didn't know much about the woman, but Liana had heard a few rumors circulating, the presence of FOSB attache's seeming to confirm that there was something unusual about her. What precisely though the Lieutenant couldn't have guessed. As the woman's words continued, Liana paid closer attention, the details of their altered parameters becoming unveiled.

“The Eidolon is to establish a quarantine zone around the outer system edges. It’s very likely that we will encounter craft fleeing the planet’s surface, and the Order cannot risk this pathogen escaping - especially when the vaccine and cure are readily available. I want our Pilots scrambled and in the black as soon as humanly possible. I want our weapons charged and tracking any possible targets. Our orders are to scare them back to Ketal so they can be cured, or stop them by any means necessary.” In an instant, the lighting of the bridge shifted, a red hue dominating the space. Adrenaline filled her veins as she rapidly adjusted the console in front of her, returning the weapons from diagnostic mode to fully functioning. Almost as if to follow up, she could feel the eyes of the Admiral upon her. Glancing over her shoulder, she replied to the woman's command. "Aye, Aye Ma'am. Understood." Her response was crisp and curt, her attention returning to her controls. It only took her a minute and a half to bring all weapons systems fully online, relaying the commands throughout the terminal before her. All weapons crews on the ship had been notified verbally as the Admiral spoke, but now their terminals were programmed to match. From her place on the bridge, Lieutenant Mattox could keep an eye on all weapons stations across the ship, coordinating and staggering their fire should it become necessary. In such a pinch circumstance, accuracy was going to be a major consideration - it would require finesse unparalleled.

"Weapons, green across the board Ma'am." she spoke up, a hand raised over the command walkway, fingers tucked together, thumb along her index finger in a knife hand. Such an indication wasn't truly necessary should the Admiral be watching her own tactical display, but out of habit the Lieutenant drew back on her training at the academy. If nothing else, the gesture marked her as a bit green behind the ears. In some ways it could be a blessing, in others, a curse.

[member="Astarii Saren"] | [member="The Major"]​

 

[Samka Derith]

Post 5​

Location: Defector Shanty Town​

Objective: Somebodys poisoned the waterhole​

​

By the time Samka caught up with Tefer, the man was making quite a scene at the well. A crowd of shady looking men, women and aliens had gathered around him as he seemed to shield the well from their very gaze. He yelled at the spectators, telling them not to drink the water until it could be tested. The Ren resisted an eye roll, this was a rather troublesome event for her.

"Mr Tefer, sir?" Samka chirped up, her voice seemed slightly timid and unsure but loud enough to carry nonetheless. "We need to be calm about this, not create hysteria."

"What we need is to not let anyone die from a poisoned well! We can't take that chance!" Tefer shouted, causing a murmur amongst the crowd. Some would likely deem him as mad but others wouldn't take the chance. She needed to shut him up. Immediately.

"You're... stressed, it's okay," she said loudly enough for the crowd to hear, hopefully the words from the girl in the nurse's uniform would help the crowd dismiss his words.

"I'm not just stressed," he growled, "How can you be so calm about this? This water messed up my friend and-and it's what we all drink from!" As he spoke, Samka gradually approached him until they were face to face.

"You must be mistaken," she said under her breath, so light only he could hear. Her tone was utterly unrecognisable now. No timid nurse or reassuring bedside manner. It was cold and domineering. She reached out to the mind of the former marine while she spoke, taking a hold on his fragile mind and twisting it to her liking.

"I-I must be mistaken," he repeated, his own voice something of a monotone. He twitched his head slightly, as though trying to shake her influence but it was to no avail.

"Tell them you were wrong," she whispered gently. "Tell them you're not feeling well."

"I-I was wrong, I'm sorry." He turned to the crowd. "I'm not feeling well."

Samka nodded in encouragement, "Good. Well done, Tefer. I think we need to find somewhere private, don't you agree?"

"Yes," he replied simply.

"Good. Then follow me."

--

Samka lead the helpless man away from the scene, taking him to a little used backstreet. Outside the eyes and ears of others.

"Now," she began to talk but the man opposite growled. His twitching intensified.

"W-w-witch," he spat. "You're b-b-b-behind this."

"Impressive," She said genuinely surprised the man was breaking through her mind control, "that you're keeping some control in the circumstances. But we have a deal to make."

He growled, a noise sounded similar to a 'no' and took a swing at the Ren. Samka, confident in her abilities hadn't expected that he might break through physically as well and took a solid punch to the side of the face for her overconfidence.

Anger overtook her, did the fool think he could strike her without repercussions? And if he could not be so easily bent to her will, it left but one simple option.

She choked him with the Force. It squeezed painfully upon his throat, making the man collapse upon his knees in a spluttering fit. "You made this an easy choice," she muttered darkly as the light left his eyes. A thud followed as his corpse struck the ground.

Samka rubbed the spot where she'd been punched, she noted with irritation that it may leave a bruise.

But before she could reflect on her next step a familiar noise hummed behind her.

It was the ignition of a Lightsaber.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Research facility
Objective: Investigate
BYOO

Kyrel could feel the dread creeping up on his as he entered inside. He was greeted by the sight of dimming and flickering lights. The smell of chemicals greeted the filter of his mask, his nostrils burning as he walked slowly, reaching for Vader's Bane igniting the crimson blade. He walked from the entrance down a hallway, paper, and smashed machinery was everywhere, looking all around he didn't see anyone in sight, not until he moved forward and saw with his HUD a body of some kind. Hanging from a light fixture his blood dripping. "Hmm, finally a sign of something." He muttered pressing forward.

The more he kept moving, the more damage he had seen, scattered datapads, droids torn to pieces. He could hear the sounds of feral growls and groans, it had sent a chill down his spine but still, he pressed on, the sounds growing louder and more intense. He looked around in the room, and then he could see bodies more and more, but then he approached a door slowly, the sounds he could tell were coming from in there. He used the blade to cut it open with ease, the melted hunk of durasteel falling after a few moments, creating a rectangle shaped entrance.

What had emerged had only confirmed his worse fears. The Black Wing Virus. The Scientists were now infected and had infected the other inhabitants of the facility, Kyrel moved back as quickly as he could as to only gain ground. He moved back into a defensive stance as they came in droves, raising his blade he figured he could either fight his way out or die.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Research Facility
Objective: Survive
BYOO

Kyrel moved quickly raising his blade in defense, as he saw what was before him. A horde of the undead much like his early years in the Order, during the conquest of the Red Nebula, but he had to act quickly immediately slicing the arms that dared to even touch him, that did not stop the wretched beasts from advancing towards him. He moved back aided by the Force, he remained careful not to be closed in by them, or at least be too close to where he could be pulled in by the frenzy.

They had even begun to move faster themselves, drooling a black liquid that came from their mounds, the growls only made it worse as they reverted to a feral state. Kyrel moved as quickly as he could to a hallway narrowly avoiding them. Reaching to an opposing hallway, with the horde slowly encroaching around him, he quickly slammed his palm on a red button, the door slowly closing, with the dead trying to get past each other. The door closed as a Scientist's arm was quickly severed from him, Kyrel stepped back slowly as the growling grew louder as they pounded and scratched at the door relentlessly. Knowing how the Virus worked they would find another way after him.

But Kyrel needed to find out what happened here before leaving, and he needed to make sure the horde did not get out. He looked at a schematic of the facility and found that he wasn't that far from the scientist's dormitories. Perhaps he would find something there, as he slowly walked down the eerie corridor, his guard up and waiting for anything that came his way. Hoping to survive the living hell that was taking place.

 

[LT-137]

Inner Rim // Ketal // Waterpoint Beta,​

The Golden Company // Operation Well Water,
Phase IV: Distribution

While much of the operational details were sealed behind layers upon layers of red tape, there was very little in which the mercenary outfit was made aware of regarding how the Order’s mission to Ketal was progressing - let alone what these people were afflicted with.

Yes, they knew that there was a viral outbreak on this world, but they weren’t informed of what exactly it was. For all the Golden Company and the people of Ketal knew, it could’ve been the resurgent strain of the Blackwing virus - which was supposedly a precursor to the gulag plague that sent the light of civilization itself spiralling down into darkness. Naturally, there was no evidence to back those claims, but as one could imagine, there were dozens of conspiracies that seemed to have compiled convincing speculations as proof. However, as they weren’t concrete and with many stretching beyond the realm of belief, Khonsu himself dismissed any nothing that this outbreak had anything to do with the Blackwing virus or the resurgent strain of the gulag plague.

Hell, when it came to the progress, all that Khonsu was made aware of was that the Order’s distribution centres had the vaccine and cure readily available. Various towns across the outskirts, and major population centres like the one that currently resided in, were experiencing a high number of walk-ins. There were no reports of shortages, just yet at least, and that everything was proceeding far too smoothly for the Thyrsian’s liking. He felt as if there was some insidious hand that forcibly guided the populace towards the First Order, pushing them away from their neutral stance and any influence that the Alliance had sought to seed.

As that was nothing more than a feeling, the Tribune swiftly quashed the errant thought and answered the Initiate’s question with nothing more than a momentary pause having been lost to silence. Though it was easy to assume that her probing inquiry seemed to have come off as impatient, the Thyrsian didn’t even consider it when he had replied. If he did, the man shared the same sentiment, as his fingers were slowly starting to itch for something. Anything that was more entertaining than slapping on a false smile, and watching a procession of people get inoculated.

“Sadly,” Khonsu began, keeping his helmet shrouded eyes focused on sweeping his surroundings. “The Order’s keeping us in the dark as to how the overall operation is progressing. I’d assume that other medical centre’s are distributing the vaccine, and the cure according to schedule. So, if nothing comes up, we should be finished this assignment in a day or two.”

He chuckled. “Easy credits, eh?”

It was then that Azula had noticed a soft groaning echoing nearby, and asked for permission to check it out. Without hesitation, the Tribune responded in the affirmative and followed up his response with the order of having the other Initiate go with her. It sounded like someone was in trouble, or hurt through unknown means - which meant that four hands would be better than two should the person or creature require medical assistance.

“I’ll cover the both of you,” the Tribune stated, before shouldering his service weapon and scanning their surroundings.

| [member="Karnage"] | [member="The Major"] |​

 

[The Major]

Ketal’s Capital
City Hall

It was not going well with what few bureaucrats had decided to hold up here away from the scourge that plagued the streets of this insignificant city. Guards struggled to keep rioted civilians under control and it was a common sight to see that lashing of a baton or the hissing peel of tear gas canisters flooding through the surging crowd. Inside the arguments continued.

Accusations were flung bitterly unto the pair of agents who appealed to the assemblages’ reason. While neither had the authority to bargain on behalf of the order, urgent pleas and offers of assistance trembled enticingly upon the panicking governing body.

“A cure is already being synthesized by the greatest minds of the First Order. Safety awaits, come with us.”

It wasn’t going to be so simple. As they continued to bicker the gates into the structure were broken down by a screeching mass of the riled citizenry. Enraged by something amiss in the virus, this mutation pushed the group in a frenzy. Wild, they overtook and slew the guards holding the line. Those not pounded to death found themselves uptaken by some vile urge wracking their insides.

Within minutes a number of calls into the boardroom caused the council to sweat. As the lines clogged with pleas for help or orders the shaking began. Soon enough, even the checkpoints within were silenced one by one.

“Salvation awaits, gentlemen. Your choice?” She said, smirking while leaning her head as though to hear the growing sounds of struggle.

 

[Samka Derith]

Post 6​

Location: Defector Shanty Town​

Objective: Somebodys poisoned the waterhole​

​

Samka turned to face the figure. Her head cocked to the side and crimson eyes sparkled as she regarded the encroaching being with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

"Doctor Nelbo. This is unexpected."

The Ithorian took a few steps forward, the gap between them closing. All the while his green blade held at his side, a nonthreatening stance but one where he could swiftly defend himself if need be. "<You are not the only one capable of hiding what you are, girl,>" his tone almost mournful. "<I wanted to believe in you. I offered you a chance but...>" his voice trailed off as he looked past Samka and onto the corpse collapsed behind her. "<I was a moment too late... again.>"

On her part, Samka did not shift from the spot. "I hadn't the faintest idea you were a Jedi, well done," her compliment was genuine. He had suspected her while she had thought nothing of him. If he were a less generous man, she'd have outplayed. Luckily for her, Doctor Nelbo succumbed to the same weakness so many who walked the Light did, forgiveness.

"<I'm no Jedi, just a man trying to do some good,>" he responded. "<I can't let you leave.>"

"I know," Samka said bluntly. "You'll try and stop me."

The Doctor slowly nodded.

"And yet I remain unarmed, you wouldn't strike me down now would you, Doctor?" The young girl's tone was as innocent as can be.

"<With what you just did, you're far from defenceless,>" Nelbo gestured to the corpse of the former marine. "<Surrender and I'll work out what to do with you. If you resist... It's your own responsibility.>"

"Hm," Samka began to stroke her chin with a single finger. "I can't give up my mission."

"<Then I will do what I must to protect these people.>" Nelbo advanced, blade now held high.

He struck towards her shoulder but the attack was slow, it was trivial for one of her talent to avoid by curving her spine. She spun on her heels to readjust their positions, sending a small jolt of Lightning into her attacker's knee. Nelbo growled from the pain but it was brief, easy to brush past. Distance was her ally and with her natural agility and proficiency in Force Speed, she acquired it by sprinting down the alleyway.

Nelbo followed, his movements more of a slow march in contrast to her own speed so Samka had a moment for her attack. She raised both palms and reached out to the Force, focusing on the buildings around them. The pipes... the roof tiles, the bits of stone in the muck beneath their feet, they began to rise piece by piece and hailed down upon her foe. The Ithorian managed to dodge or reflect most of it but a loose stone broke through his defences, striking the Doctor's alien forehead. It was enough to throw him off as a pipe smashed into the back of his shoulder, the jagged edge embedding into the man's flesh.

The smallest of details turning a tide.

As he staggered towards her, Samka took the opportunity to Pull his Lightsaber from his weakened grasp. Moments before they connected, Nelbo's blade betrayed him and found itself in her grip. She ignited the weapon in her hand, stabbing the Doctor up through the ribs. She regarded the collapsing man without an ounce of pity on her face. She admired him, all things considered, which was enough to not gloat over his dying form, but nothing more. Soon she'd return to the Doctor's tent and make sure the patient, too, was dead.

As Doctor Nelbo's body slumped to the ground, the trail left behind should be eradicated. Within days, this settlement of traitors and cowards would be destroyed. Her job was complete.

 

[Shattered_Mirror]

Command Deck // FIV "Eidolon" // Resurgent II Class Battlecruiser.
Ketal System, Outer System Edges, Border with the First Order.

​

​

As the command deck drowned in the crimson hue of the battle readiness, Astarii found herself swelling with an almost maternal sense of pride. There was a distinct difference in how the crews of her former commisions had carried themselves into combat, and as she compared them to her current station, they were unable to live up to the discipline and professionalism displayed by every Imperial officer and their subordinate personnel. One of the most substantial gaps between command’s that the Admiral had appreciated, was the distinct lack of yelling from one side of the command trench to the other. There were raised voices from the Officer caste now and then, yes, but none dared ever reach her or the Captain’s octaves when the ruby-bright lights bathed the vessel’s interior. Instead, they regulated their commands and voices through various standard-issue headsets and connected channels, relaying their information to the proper hands and the warship’s commander after that. It was a majestic sight and one that caused the Admiral’s lips to peel back into a thin-lipped smile.

Even though Astarii had been assigned to another ship for the better part of a year, seeing the same uniformity in how these Imperials operated being carried over from one warship to another was quite refreshing. More so than the disorderly chaos that dominated much of her career as an Alliance officer during the twilight years of the One Sith.

It was at that moment, when she was about to tear his focus away from the command trench, that the Admiral had seen something that had given her pause. Though she wasn’t intimately familiar with the gestures, or even the hand canted signals they were teaching cadets in the Imperial Academy - there was something oddly familiar about that knife-handed gesture. While she couldn’t place her finger on it, Astarii couldn’t help but to simply shake her head. Whatever the deed was seeking to emphasize, or express, seemed to be habitual, and was more than likely some lingering routine that the young Lieutenant had yet to grow out of. She had been there once herself, Astarii mused; back when the galaxy seemed so small, and everything she knew was nestled in the heart of the Hapes Cluster. How different things had become.

Blinking away the memories that threatened to rise from the ashes of her subconscious, the Admiral cleared her throat and slowly stalked the length of the command trench. It wouldn’t be long now until their vessel had taken their station, the blockade established thereafter. Until then, it seemed that her communications officer had demanded her attention, as one of their Security Bureau teams - already deployed in the field - had sought to inquire about some mercenary. Moments before she had dropped down into the command trench and stood beside the console, her thoughts lingered around the sellsword outfit that her handlers had mentioned. Did these operators want to know more about the supposedly illustrious Golden Company? She couldn’t tell. Even then, why would she concern herself with such scum - let alone be able to answer any questions they had regarding them?

Rolling her eyes, Astarii keyed her headset over to the appropriate channel and listened to the Shadowtrooper’s query. When the crackling silence of connection took hold, the Admiral had finally connected the dots. So this wasn’t about the Golden Company. No, it was about the other sellsword that was attached to her battlecruiser complement of Security Bureau operators. She didn’t know what to say about him at first, as they hadn’t met face to face since the gentleman came aboard during one of her routine inspections. But, from what she had heard about him - the man was capable. “As far as I’m concerned,” the Hapan replied. “Central Command and the Security Bureau thereafter believe he’s worth every credit. So, do me a favour and don’t doubt his abilities until after the mission is complete. I’d rather not have to write home to your families. Eidolon actual, out.”

Terminating the connection with a swift flick of her wrist, Astarii clambered out of the command trench and resumed her course towards her command console. She had a lot of work to complete, and it wouldn’t do for her to dilly-dally when there was a quarantine zone to erect.​

​

| [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Krayn Ren"] | [member="Liana Mattox"] |​

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Research facility
Objective: Escape
BYOO

Kyrel kept walking down the dark corridor, the eerie cries of the dead growing as he kept moving, he needed to get out fast, if he didn't then he could risk jeopardizing the First Order's plans for the world. He wouldn't allow that, he couldn't. He moved cautiously noticing that some of the dormitories, doors were closed while others were left partially open, debris scattered across the floor, some were possessions, others were datapads or other things of scientific research. Kyrel had to be careful as he stepped inside one of the partially opened rooms, the room was a mess as if the being inside of it was trying to get out as quickly as he could.

The Enforcer did not care all he did care about was finding a way out, or a way to stop the undead from attacking the living. He searched all over, tearing the room apart making it in even worse shape then what it was before. Then what had come had astonished him. A holoprojector, curiosity getting the better of him, he reached forward slowly setting it on the ground. The device activated as soon as it was sat down activating a hologram of what looked to be a frightened middle-aged human male. The man looked frightened, his eyes darted from one place to the other, as he struggled to maintain a focus on speaking into the holoprojector. He spoke to the device fearfully. "If anyone is listening to this my name is Zaimur Namorie.. Oh god, I knew it was a bad idea, I knew it from the start... My colleagues thought they could use the Black Wing Virus to better civilization. I spoke out against them and in the end, I was right. An accident occurred not too long ago.. Oh god." He paused as a loud banging was heard, looking at the holoprojector in absolute horror he spoke more frantically, sweat dripping from his face. "Whoever is listening to this, do not let the dead escape, there is a hidden passageway outside of this room. Next to it will be a console, use it to cause the reactor to go into meltdown. It will destroy this place... What... Wait... Nooo." He screamed before the transmission was cut off.

Kyrel knew what he had to do now, as he walked out of the room cautiously. Continuing to walk down the corridor, hearing the footsteps and the growls of the undead, he started to move quickly, his escape and the destruction of the base soon at hand.

 

[Luther Lewis]

Location: Main settlement, two blocks from the well poisoned by Malcolm Denwich.
Equipment: Concealed Hold-out blaster, stiletto.
Objective: Neutralise Sheriff Callaghan.

​

To his credit, the Sheriff didn't even flinch as Luther drew the gun and pointed it at his chest. He frowned "You karker. Who are you working for? The Sith?" he asked. "This isn't a storybook, I don't see why I have to tell you" Luther replied, but he already realised his mistake. He should have shot the man then and there, and Callaghan made a move for the gun as Luther spoke. Years of training caused Luther to reflexively pull the trigger, but not before the Sheriff had moved it an inch. He howled as a blaster bolt tore through his left shoulder, but he pushed forward. Grappling Luther, they fell towards the ground in tumble. Luther brought his knee up into the man’s stomach and got a punch in the face in return. Callaghan threw Luther off and the two of them stumbled away from each other.

They were back to square one, minus Luther's pistol and Callaghan's comms. They stood six feet apart but made no move. Each man ran the calculations in their minds. Callaghan had a blaster strapped to his side but attempting to draw it would have Luther spring onto the man. Luther blaster had landed at his feet but bending to pick it up would allow Callaghan ample opportunity to shoot him. Luther face remained grim while the Sheriff broke into an uncharacteristic smile. Callaghan opened his mouth to speak but Luther didn't let him, knowing now that the man would take that opportunity to strike. Luther kicked gun up into the man's face and jumped on him.

The gun didn't quite go high enough but still managed to hit the man in the collarbone, distracting him better than Luther hoped. Callaghan had his weapon halfway out of the holster when Luther tackled him, and the gun went flying across the room. They went down in a tumble again, the impact of their fall breaking a dining chair. Callaghan hit Luther in the face (again), so Luther responded in kind. Managing to get some footing back, Luther backed off and drew his stiletto. Seeing the knife, the Sheriff's eyes panicked, but he didn't flee.

Fighting with a knife is not an art, like fighting with a lightsaber. It is not the elegant parry and riposte that a lightsaber duel entails, it is brutal and bloody melee. With a knife you simply get in close and stab. Perhaps Callaghan was a veteran too, like old man Elliot, for he caught Luther's knife by the hilt shortly before it entered his abdomen. With a manouver unknown to Luther, he managed to reverse it and Luther screamed as the sharp knife was pushed through his left hand. Callaghan finished him off with a kick between the legs. Moaning and weeping in pain, Luther curled into a ball on the kitchen floor.

The Sheriff chuckled before wincing at his wounds. "You almost got me kid" he retrieved his weapon but holstered it. Luther wasn't a threat. Callaghan was picking up his comms unit when the knife impacted with his throat. Maybe in a story the blade would have met the man's throat but in reality, it was the hilt of the blade that collided with the fleshy cartilage. The impact caused him to splutter and cough. Luther imagined it was very distracting, especially as the stormtrooper managed to crawl over to his blaster unhindered. Callaghan seemed to just be recovering when Luther shot him twice in the chest.

​

- - - - -​

​

Luther lay groaning on the floor for a several minutes before he had the strength the haul the Sheriff’s corpse to the speeder. Covering the body with the some of Elliot’s old blankets, Luther managed to pilot the speeder back to the safehouse. There was a scare when he nearly passed out from a spike of pain, from his wounded hand, but otherwise the trip was uneventful.

The FOSB weren’t happy to see him return wounded and made him explain what happened before he received medical attention. He gave a brief explanation, and after bandaging his wounds and giving painkillers, he managed to explain in detail.

“This is sloppy Ando, but I suppose that’s what you get for hiring Army idiots” one agent said. Luther let the jibe slide, in far too much pain to argue. “You should have let a bureau agent handle it, once you determined him to be a threat” said another. The man gave him a weary look then added: “Look, Luther, you did well neutralizing the man, as he might have tipped off the police force. But the room must be a mess, blood all over the place. We’ll cleaned the place but the man just disappearing will be suspicious”.

They arranged transportation for Luther to take him off-world. The official reason was that he was too wounded to keep operational, but Luther suspected they thought he was a loose cannon and wanted him gone. The news came in just as Luther was boarding the transport. Parts of the city were already in riot; the toxin or pathogen was spreading fast.

Luther had a shower before he left, but as the doors closed and he got a last look at Ketal, he couldn’t help but feel filthy.

[Exit Thread]

|[member="The Major"]|​

 

[Alkor Centaris]

2​

Anak growled as the line cut him short, his mood only soured by the short, insufficient answer that he had been given. That was always the way of it, though. Don't bother questioning orders. The people up high know what's best. Stormtrooper training conditioned him to accept that reality, but it also fortified him with a sense of duty to his men. If this sellsword turned out to be dangerous, he wouldn't be hurt giving the order to put a hundred blaster bolts into the man. That was one perk of being on the ground, at least.

"Eyes up," Anak snapped as movement flickered across his HUD, and every man in the unit snapped into motion. With a unified chorus of clicks, every E-11 among them trained on the bunker nearest them. "On my signal," he murmured, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. A quick vital scan of his battlegroup confirmed what he anticipated: they were riddled with anxiety, and heart rates were elevated. "Don't fire-"

"Quiet," the low voice came from outside the comm channel, and Anak looked up quickly at the speaker. Their enigmatic mercenary stared at the bunker, fingering the trigger of his DMR with a dangerous hunger. "They already know you're coming. They probably already know you're here."

What...?

"The sensation surrounding this place," the mercenary elaborated, "it's not fear. It's anticipation."

Before he could respond, Anak watched in horror as a green bolt of energy ripped out of the darkness and smacked into the dark armored Corellian with force enough to dent durasteel. The impact sent Alkor rolling along the dirt, body thrashing limply. "All units, fire at will!"

Green bursts of energy replied in kind to the first outburst, and with their enemies robbed of the element of surprise, Alkor groaned as his head slowly recovered from the concussive impact. "Next time, I won't bother trying to warn them," he scowled. His body resisted his efforts to rise, and pain wracked him from head to toe as he managed to sit upright. His HUD identified the rifle, nearly six paces from his position. He had lost it in the rough landing.

"You alive, Mercenary?" it sounded distant and underwater, but the voice of Anak was familiar. He took the hand that the Stormtrooper offered and staggered to his feet, but equilibrium was still fairly far off. "How did you know?" the Corporal asked.

"Too quiet," Alkor grunted. "Even during sleep hours, there's a security detail. Some kind of watch." It was obvious, certainly, but the First Order likely had protocols beyond his experience. He was unable to glean anything from Anak's expression about his response because of the Stormtrooper helmet, but the response he gave was enough.

"Keep your secrets," Anak replied with a stifled laugh. "You saved a few lives by taking that shot. We'll call it even."

Alkor shrugged. Anak signaled to a Stormtrooper nearby and pointed toward Centaris' weapon. The man collected it from the ground and hurried to return it. Alkor nodded his thanks. He watched as a flash of blue light emanated from a small rod that one of the men slammed into the dirt, and they were swiftly engulfed by a drop shield. "We need a plan, and quickly," he called back over his shoulder.

Anak glanced to Alkor and gestured. "They number more than our census indicated," he explained, "there's a high possibility that someone leaked information to the planet prior to our operation. That would account for increased numbers and resistance here, if no place else."

Alkor folded his arms. "They would have attempted a Mass Exodus prior to our arrival if they expected anything remotely like what the First Order has set in motion," the Dark Jedi counseled. "Shoring up numbers for a last stand seems incongruous."

"Unless," Anak froze, then cursed loudly. "Robins, Carthart, I need both of you kitted up and ready to respond immediately," his voice seemed more desperate than before, and strained. "Get a sensor squad out here as quickly as you can."

"You sense it too?" Alkor asked ominously.

"Sense what?" Anak asked absently.

[member="Astarii Saren"]​