Civil Disobedience | First Order Dominion of Neo-Polis Hex

[Madelyn Lowe]

-= Civil Disobedience =-​

First Order Dominion of Neo-Polis Hex​

​

“Even as we fight the Alliance, a terrible struggle is taking place on our opposite frontier. At the edge of known space, a system is in chaos. It is critically close to Dosuun, and it’s imperative stability is restored as soon as possible. The government of Neo-Polis have proven their inability to protect their people. Now, the First Order will take matters into their own hands.”

Governor Madelyn Lowe, at a press conference on Varonat.​

​

​

By Order of Sieger Ren, the dogs of war have been unleashed against the Alliance. Yet, on the other side of First Order space, the bustling world of Neo-Polis is teetering on the edge of collapse. The authoritarian dictatorship of Darius Vex has resulted in demonstrations, strikes, and even armed resistance. The world is dangerously close to the First Order Capital, Dosuun. As the situation worsens on the planet, it threatens the stability of the entire region.

Detachments from the 1st Fleet have already been sent to maintain security within the sector. Now, the men and women of the First Order will land on Neo-Polis. Diplomats and government aids have been tasked with ensuring the acquisition by the First Order goes smoothly, while the First Order’s armed forces will work tirelessly to root out and destroy the rebel cells that infect the planet like a blight.

The stability of the First Order’s core regions will remain secure. Neo-Polis will not fall into the hands of rebels. Order will be restored.

Its time to get to work.

​

Objectives:

1. Trouble in Paradise: The Free Polis Army has been making trouble for the local government for many years. However, something has begun to change. Demonstrations, strikes, and even armed resistance are on the rise. With the system so critically close to Dosuun, it is vital that any resistance movements are stamped out, and effort is taken to prevent future instability. First Order High Command has authorised a task force to be sent to Neo-Polis. Troops will be sent to Alexander Square to find hideout of the Free Polis Army, a group responsible for savage attacks against Neo-Polis and her people.
2. The Butler Did It: A diplomatic function is set to take place in a wealthy sector of Halcyon, the capital of Neo-Polis. However, First Order intelligence has uncovered a plot to murder a high level Polisian politician. Those assigned to this objective must prevent the assassination and find who's responsible.
3. Like a Bull in a China Shop: Three days ago, Neo-Polis lost radio contact with its mining station on the moon of Lua Major. Fly-bys by civilian vessels have reported widespread damage to the station’s infrastructure, and the worst is feared for the civilians inside. Surveillance footage collected yesterday by Security Bureau craft revealed the damage may not be a result of explosives, or an equipment malfunction, but instead may correspond to the devastation caused by a powerful Force User. A specialised team has been ordered to investigate the mining station. If a rogue Force User is found, they are to be neutralised and not allowed to escape under any circumstances.
4. BYOO: As always, feel welcome to bring your own objectives and craft your own stories for this Dominion.

Links: Neo-Polis

Have fun and take the opportunity to weave and interesting story, and cooperate with new writers. Good luck everyone!

 

[Konstantin Makarev]

Objective: 1; Sub Objective, Troop Deployment
Location: Shuttle GH489, En Route to Alexander Square

Neo-Polis did both surprise and amaze Colonel Konstantin Makarev as he saw it pass through the viewport of his Upsilon-Class shuttle. The former One Sith officer usually found Outer Rim planets, lacking something. Be they substance. Beauty, or the civility found in the Core worlds he was accustomed to. But Neo-Polis from orbit, reminded him of that. While of course there were definitive exceptions to the bleak view held regarding the Outer Rim, such as the class of Dosuun for example, Neo-Polis captured the metropolitan wonderland he had spent his youth in. However, the sight of his TIE escort bought into sharp relief, the objective to come.

Taking another drag from his Bespin cigar, the colonel approached the cockpit, "Do we have an ETA captain?" He inquired, as he stood. His eyes again tantalised by the system below, before turning to the civilian vessels in orbit. All of them parted before the might of the First Order, a reassuring sign that Avalonia's reputation most certainly preceded it. Something which he now hoped he would be able to capitalise on. The colonels gaze then turned to the senior shuttle pilot.

The pilot, paused, and looked down at her navicomputer, "Approximately three minutes sir." She informed him, in a cool voice, "We'll be in orbit in forty seconds." Perfect. Enough time to finish the cigar. The colonel sat down on his seat, and began to compile and compartmentalise the intelligence he had recieved during his briefing. He hoped to be quick and dirty with this engagement. Long term insurgencies were a pain to root out, and if the Polisians had been honest, then hopefully their militancy had only been a recent development, and thusly wouldn't become the norm. Once it became common place for a man to pick up arms against their government, then issues arose.

As a man who had helped put down many uprisings, he knew how vital it was to nip the problem in the bud. And it was today, he was sure he and his men would do it again. The remainder of the trip was uneventful. As the shuttle landed, Makarev put on his officers cap, and greatcoat, before exiting onto the ramp, and into the warmth of the Polisian sun. Behind him, troop barges and landers made their deployments, with the first wave, a battalion of stormtroopers with speeder support now finishing deployment.

The colonel waved over his aides, and pointed them in the direction of the square, "Move in and make way there." Makarev barked, "Secure a perimeter around the square, and prepare a strike force for storming." He continued, as he approached one of the Hussar-Command Speeder, "Time is of the essence major. We'll want to get these bastards while their pants are still down!"

 

[Zef Halo]

SEVERAL DAYS PRIOR TO CATASTROPHE
LUA MAJOR MINING STATION

Corrupt officials were cash cows. Milk 'em.

Zef couldn't remember whether someone he knew said or was it something he said. Nevertheless, it was an axiom. An axiom existing eons before Zef and an axiom which will exist eon after him. It's how the galaxy worked, you see.

And so the good ol' scoundrel found himself in the employ of a corrupt scheme of a governmental official of Neo-Polis working on the Lua Major Mining Station. He was no director, not the head honcho, just someone in the middle of the food chain.

"Here's how it is, Halo - We load more than the manifesto says, freight the manifesto to the refinery on N. Polis, then drop the smuggled at this coordinates. 5% of the price of each cargo goes to you."

"Easy as stealing candy from a baby."

"Aye. Just get that friggin' freighter of yours polished. You're a cargo hauler from today."

MINUTES PRIOR TO CATASTROPHE
IMPROMPTU INTERROGATION ROOM, LUA MAJOR MINING STATION

"So you deny all charges on smuggling? You."

"Yeah, me, officer. I am just a cargo haulin' man. You've got the wrong man. I ain't brave enough to steal from the Order." Zef almost choked with sarcasm.

"You don't only look like a karin' smuggler, you even smell like one, you fil-"

A glare came from his superior sitting next to him and agent Rerin sat down back on his chair.

"Now, how does a cargo hauling captain end up being unaware of what he is hauling?"

"Look, m'am, I just do what I'm told which is pilot this ship from point A to point B. Ain't paid to ask questions-"

"So you admit you have not followed correct protocols regarding cargo as per Neo-Polis laws."

"I didn't say that, did I?"

"So back to my question - how did you miss that there's definitely smuggled goods on your freighter without breaking the rules regarding manifesto checks?"

"Well, you s-"

Lights went off and before one could react, the karkin' roof came down and the world turned black.


NOW
LUA MAJOR MINING STATION

Emergency light lit down the semi-destroyed corridor with sparks of torn electricity circuits flickering. Bodies laid down lifeless literring the floor. The stench of death slowly grew with each passing hour. Pain flared from the chunk of metal that had fallen on his right leg and desperation furiously tempted the old scoundrel. His good revolver stood broken on the ground, smashed to pieces by fallen debris. The two agents looked dead, whether they factually were remained a mystery Zef didn't consider unraveling. One of their blasters remained untouched and the old scoundrel picked it up.

What the kark had happened?

 

[Eyros]

Their contract had been extended, it was exactly those words that had melted Novax’s heart into a ball of love towards the First Order and their relationship with the mercenaries known as the Golden Company. He himself had not been part of the negotiations, having been busy leading small skirmishes through-out Sith controlled space for their terms with that growing Empire, but the result had been as he had hoped for. In fact the very message he had received stating that the contract length had been altered he had also received summons to aid on a matter that the Order had deemed vital.

Turns out that with the war against the Alliance back-up forces were stretched thin within the inner-core of Order space, however with increasing tariffs and recruitment he was sure that would not be the case for long. In the meantime it meant that the Company had specific employment thanks to a little rebellion that had sprouted on Neo-Polis.

“We’re going to the moon?” The question was answered by Novax merely nodding, his eye taking in the detail of the great rock currently occupying visible space from their shuttle. It was a clear mining installation, great rents in the rock from years of ripping what resource they could as quickly as possible. In a way it was a beautiful sight. “Why the moon? I thought the rebellion was in the planet’s limits.”

“We are hunting.” Novax explained without moving. “Khonsu got a request for assistance, the rest will be going planetside, us however…we have a suspected person of interest.” He closed his eye, his cybernetic display from the patch across his other, now long removed eye still projecting imagery into his nerves as if he had never lost it. He breathed out slowly, the installation was coming up, the one where the incident had happened according to the reports. It would be time soon. “Get ready. When we land I want the area secured, the locals said there has been significant damage to the main structures so be cautious. The Order has specified that we may be up against heavy force in this one, Jedi Force. We will have several agents join us from their own supplies so watch your targets.” He unclipped the dark metal of his lightsaber and allowed it to rest in his hand as the settlement appeared below them, great cracks and smoke plumes flowing freely from damage and operational machinery.

“Another day, another credit.” He muttered as the soft thud of ground met the landing gear of his shuttle.

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Objective: 3.
Location: Lua Major Mining Station.

​

Lua Mining Station - Moments before the disaster.

A hushed conversation in a room beside her, the clang of her boots as she stalked down the corridor, the metallic scent of processed air. A moment later, the world flipped upside down.

Ilya had been walking from the main building of the Mining station to the large terminal that housed the Lua Major spaceport. The corridor was overused and filthy, with dust and grime crammed into every crevice of the structure. Poor ventilation and too-old oxygen scrubbers resulted in a miasma of must and odour that filled the entire complex, cut only by the fumes belched from the turbolifts that carried weary miners up from the shafts below. These details did not bother her so much. The main problem was that it was just so boring here. There was nothing stimulating about a colony of starved workers struggling through a life of drudgery. As far as she was concerned, this stopover couldn't be over fast enough.

Alas, her beaten-up wreck of a ship was rather worse for wear, and she'd been informed by a greasy mechanic that it would still be several hours before the ship would be airworthy. Most annoying. Still, she'd wandered off once again to try and find something to pass the time while she waited, for every minute she spent hovering over the idiotic mechanic's shoulder the more irritated she became. It was as if the irksome little man had no idea that she had places to be. She had half a mind to teach him some respect, but even Ilya knew that wouldn't solve anything.

A noise distracted her from her quiet musings. There was a clatter, from ahead of her, around a fork in the corridor, as something tough and metal struck the floor, a man's voice called out a moment later, frantic. "Hey you! Sto-" The voice was lost as a wave of pressure bellowed from around the corner, and her eyes widened as the floor, ceiling and walls began to buckle, and she was thrown backwards even as metal fragments and shards of glass catapulted towards her. She was thrown back five metres, landing on her back and sliding ungracefully. The hiss of gas from burst pipes prompted her to move even as she was still winded. Crawling into an empty break room she slammed the door shut.

It wasn't enough, the explosion rattled the small room, shattering the light fittings, hurling furniture around and deforming the very support beams of the building. The room remained pressurised and without leaks, and though Ilya had been struck by debris and knocked unconscious, she had survived the blast.

Lua Mining Station - Now

Her eyelids flickered open, and she wiped a crust of dried blood from her brow, slowly getting up and rising to her feet. The room was a wreck, and the power was out, casting everything into dimness. The only light came from a small porthole in the roof, which let in small slivers of light to alleviate the gloom. By the look of it, the blast doors had come down, and now Ilya was separated from the rest of the base by a thick durasteel plate. The door system would have to be manually overridden if she were to get out. Or, it could be opened from the outside, should anyone be alive.

 

[Progflaw99]

​

| Objective 1 |​

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Free Polis Army Safehouse | Outskirts of Halcyon, the Capital​

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--- --- --- --- --- ---​

​

*Blast!* They were already running behind schedule. They'd been stopped twice en route towards the dwelling marked on the torn page. Scribbles roughly outlined the known patrol routes of local enforcement, but today for some reason, they seemed to be making all the wrong turns. Atlas couldn't help it he supposed, when they'd arrived he and the others had been told that the government had changed up their routes earlier in the day. It had elicited a frustrated sigh from the pilot, he knew all too well how dangerous it was operating on out of date intelligence. Say what you would about these freedom fighters. Their intel may have left something to be desired, but they had heart, and that was admirable as far as Atlas was concerned.

Neo Polis was quite the hike, but through the network of contacts he had coupled with the assistance of the Free Polis Army, he'd managed to arrive without any major issues. Having rarely left the planet of Centares, Atlas had no criminal history or travel restrictions. Officially, Atlas held the rank of Lieutenant in the CSC - Part of the Mara-Perlemian Trade Council, but here on Neo Polis? He was just another Joe. Of course the First Order wouldn't see it that way if they caught him and connected the dots - no, he'd be tried as a spy most likely, assuming they didn't execute him on the spot. He'd heard the rumors about the FOSB, about the Stormtrooper Corps, nothing scared him more than what he'd heard about the battle of Kaeshana. According to the media, there had been crucifixions en masse. It was this fear precisely that had driven him to step out of the rank and file. Atlas found himself operating in a strange space, a place between governments. Ironic almost. Should the First Order discover his ties, an execution likely awaited. Should his own government find out about his extracurriculars, they too would be well within the law to string him up as a traitor or a terrorist.

It may not have been right by the law, but it was what his heart told him - the bearing of his moral compass. He wasn't the only one. In only a few short months, their small group had grown. First those closest, then farther out. Their message and intent had spread quickly, those who felt the Trade Council weren't doing enough, or were morally deficient. By no means had they become at odds with the Trade Council but their inaction had driven them to take matters into their own hands, outside of the realm of official capacity and into some other space entirely.

"Bring that crate o'er here. 'urry up wit it."

A gruff voice brought Atlas reeling back to the present. With a heave, he lifted the heavy container from the bed of the lorry. They had this stop, and then only one more before the pieces would be in place. If all went according to plan, they'd be able to finally rid themselves of the oppression of the current regime - all without firing a shot. *Problem is...* thought Atlas. *Plans rarely survive first contact*. The faster they unloaded their cargo, the faster they could get to their final stop. Arms straining, Atlas placed the container on top of a pallet in the corner. The dwelling was unassuming, a modest little home, though the shutters were closed and there was a distinct lack of furniture. What might have been a cozy home was now anything but, more of a micro-warehouse than anything else. One of the many, rented and operated by the Free Polis Army. *One more crate* Atlas thought to himself. *One more crate, and then it begins.*

​

[member="Konstantin Makarev"] | [member="Petra Vitalis"]​

 

[Zef Halo]

The old smuggler limped through the corridor panting quietly from the pain and occassionally grinding his teeth. He had torn a shirt from a corpse to tie it around the wound on his damaged leg stopping the blood from pouring out. Zef had to find a medkit as soon as possible before even planning on leaving this karked up place. He had no desire to find out what the hell had happened, only wishing that his ship was still in flyable condition and reachable. It'd take him a while before he found his way through the station, he knew that, he had only ventured the station a couple of times.

Not a chance he could remember it perfectly. Especially not when the whole place looked as if it just got orbit bombarded.

Down the dark and oddly silent corridor he went before reaching a well-sealed door on his left. Zef required a medkit and if luck was on his side today, the fethin thing would be behind this door. He smacked the panel sliding the doors open to startle himself to death with the figure of a woman less than a dozen feet away from him. Instinct kicked in, adrenaline rushed and the blaster leveled itself with the live woman. Gunslinger's fingers would not hesitate to pull the trigger.

"Don't karkin' move."

[member="Ilya Cardonne"]

 

[LT-137]

Whilst the others questioned their respective commanders about their new assignment, Khonsu had spent the majority of the transit between the Order’s mustering point and the mining installation in contemplative silence. His dark and hooded eyes were transfixed to the datapad that was caught between his taloned fingers, reviewing the screed of data that danced across its crystalline surface. From what the Security Bureau had gathered, the damage to the installation was extensive. However, from what they could tell, none of it was done through conventional means - either by the forceful application of explosives, or violent decompression due to faulty machinery. Instead, their transcribed account had surmised that the facility endured an attack that was more metaphysical in nature, than anything else. They assumed, and by extension knew, that meant a Force-Wielder was on station and had made their violent intentions known. For what purpose did this being attack a mining installation, of all places? The Thyrsian didn’t much care. They had made themselves an obstacle in the First Order’s path of bringing this system into compliance, and by the terms of their contract, saw fit to pay a modest sum to see that it was removed by any means necessary. That was all that mattered in the end.

As the shuttle had begun making the final approach, signalled by the sudden change in illumination from a soft yellow to a harsh crimson, the Tribune began his preparations for deployment. The sounds of freshly oiled magazines and plasmatic cartridges sliding into their weapon’s housings joined the growling purr of active armour, filling the shuttle’s compartment with a wordless chorus of readiness. His taloned fingers moved deftly across his powered armour, ensuring that every piece was magnetically and hermetically sealed in place - as waltzing into a sundered station with gaps in his armour wasn’t how he wished to spend his last few breaths. Nodding in satisfaction, as his armour was well fitted, the Thyrsian Warrior turned his attention to his sidearm next. It was a crude weapon, seemingly pulled out of the dark ages and lovingly restored to serviceable condition, but it wasn’t what was on the outside that had made this weapon catch the Tribune’s attention. No, instead, it was the glittering magazine of glasteel encased bullets that became the apple of his dark eyes.

Although the temptation to remove one of the specialized bullets from the magazine had been strong, Khonsu slapped the cartridge back into his sidearm and flipped the weapon’s safety toggle. Just moments after he had re-engaged the magnetic seal that bonded his pistol to his powered armour, the Thyrsian felt the entirety of the shuttle subtly quake, announcing their unexpected arrival within the facility itself. Due to his focus being entirely devoted to the review of the mission briefing and his own preparations, the man had little idea of where exactly within the installation they had touched down. However, that wouldn’t pose much of a problem, as with any structure - there was a high chance of them encountering a terminal nearby - where they could download and subsequently upload the station’s schematic to their armour. The only thing that would change that outcome was the probability of finding a working terminal in this mess.

As the ramp before them began to descend, Khonsu turned his helmeted gaze towards his fellow mercenary and gestured towards the sundered hellscape that awaited them just beyond the shuttle’s yawning maw.

“After you.”​

[member="Novax"]​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

| Objective 1 |

Free Polis Army Safehouse | Outskirts of Halcyon, the Capital

--- --- --- --- --- ---

Checking her datapad, the young Galidraani woman studied the cargo readouts carefully as the cargo vehicle trundled along, carefully avoiding government patrols. She sat in the back of the cab, clad in easy traveling gear of black slacks, form-fitting but stretchy, and a matching tunic with gold clasps, underneath which she wore a white, high-necked blouse, all but hidden from view by the tunic. Her navy blue traveling coat cinched easily around her trim waist and gave the illusion of broad shoulders thanks to the cut. It also had a high neck, which was the fashion, and was lined with violet and trimmed with gold. Perhaps too flash for what they were doing, but if anything, it would likely give her the upper hand when dealing with any local enforcement. The appearance of wealth and power often translated into power itself when dealing with the right kind of people.

She wore a black and gold patterned scarf, which she would pull over her face in the event of a dust-up. It wouldn't do to be caught out here, interfering in the affairs of the First Order, while her sister-in-law still led its government. Still, she had challenged herself to get involved in doing something good for the galaxy; her network of contacts had led her here, to Neo Polis.

The vehicle decelerated and rounded a corner before finally stopping. Petra pulled herself up and exited the cabin, going to the back of the cargo hold. "Right - that's crate Besh 2, Besh 3, and Besh 4," she told the gruff-spoken man. As the crates were offloaded, Petra tucked her datapad into her waist pouch and approached [member="Atlas Viridian"] as he heaved a large crate towards the cargo gate. "Let me give you a hand," said Petra pleasantly, shifting to the opposite side so she could help buddy-carry the crate with the pilot.

"You're from out towards the Tingel Arm, no?" she asked as they settled the crate down on the pallet as instructed. Petra turned to see if there was another to be unloaded.

 

[Progflaw99]

​

| Objective 1 |​

​

Free Polis Army Safehouse | Outskirts of Halcyon, the Capital​

​

--- --- --- --- --- ---​

Atlas welcomed the help, having given the woman a thankful nod as she swept in to help. With a sigh, Atlas glanced at the last crate, yet remaining in the bed of the lorry. "Got one more, if you wouldn't mind." Stepping to, he responded, eyeing the woman's attire. *Strange choice of clothing, but I suppose we all have our parts to play.* "That's right, just off the Perlemian Trade route." Grasping the final container by the handle on the end, he took a deep breath before lifting. "This'll be the last one. You're not from here I'd wager? Sounds like they brought in a lot of otherworlders for this." With a nod of his head, he shuffled his feet towards another of the pallets. Casting another glance at the woman's attire, he bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn't place the style, definitely refined - but an older style for sure. The pilot had opted for a pair of stretch jeans and a t shirt, a loose fitting blue button up resting across his broad shoulders. Worn beneath, the subtle cured leather under-the-arm holster peeked out. They'd managed to get this far without using any of the weapons they concealed, Atlas only hoped that trend continued.

"Sounds like this is the last stop. After that, things are liable to pick up quick. What'd they bring you in for? I'm a mechanic by trade, pilot by profession."

Pausing for a moment, he let out a gentle sigh as they lowered the crate. He wasn't sure what was inside, but whatever it was - it was heavy. Atlas didn't live here, he didn't have ties to Neo Polis, and as such the Free Polis Army had kept him pretty much in the dark. He expected some of that, for security concerns, but he was really beginning to wonder what exactly they had planned. A coup, for sure, but how they expected to do that.. he'd find out when they got to where they were going. The only small piece of insurance he had was the weapon tucked tightly against his body, nestled firmly within the holster at his side. If the woman across from his was armed, he wouldn't know it by appearances. It was meant to be a peaceful coup, but something this large?

Atlas stood tall, stretching his back as his arms rose above his head. "Well, I think that's it - best get a move on. These folks get a bit testy, don't want to be late." Motioning towards the lorry, Atlas quickly secured the tailgate, tying down the straps. "You be my shotgun?" he tipped his head in the direction of the passenger seat in the driving compartment.

[member="Petra Vitalis"] | [member="Konstantin Makarev"]​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"Of course."

Despite living a life of privilege and being, after all, a slim human of the female persuasion, years of intense physical training meant that Petra was no stranger to engaging the use of her muscles. She scrambled into the lorry and crouched to pick up the crate, lifting with her knees rather than her back. Still and all, in the heat of the cramped truck, she felt a trickle of sweat race down her back. They set the crate on the gate and she scrambled off, pausing to brush the dust off her legs and rear end before hefting the crate again.

"No," she agreed with his assessment of her origin. "I'm from, em, out... that way, too," she said elusively. Even among so-called friends, she couldn't be too careful in these early stages. "Bloody thing weighs a tonne," she panted as they shuffled across the space towards the pallet where it would be intended. "What are they packing? Bricks?" She made a groan of protest as she crouched down and set the crate in position, and another when she straightened her back, pressing a palm to the small of her back to probe a gentle ache. "Forgot to stretch," she confessed.

They turned back to the truck. "Logistics, I think. I'm a -- how would you say? -- financial donor. But I got tired of signing checks and not seeing what it was all for. I want to be more than what's in my pocketbook, y'know?" She knelt to tighten the fastener of her boot and then straightened up again, nodding in agreement. "Yeah. I think it's my turn. I could use some air." She climbed into the passenger side of the lorry. "I take it from your comments that you're not what we'd call a ringleader, but you seem to be slightly more informed. What's next after the last drop off?"

[member="Atlas Viridian"] | [member="Konstantin Makarev"]​

 

[Dirk Bannahan]

Post 1
Objective 3: Lua Major Mining Station
En-route post hyperspace Jump from Varonat
Hunt the Rogue Force User

Aboard a nondescript freighter carrying precious cargo to a sector about as far from the Galactic Core as could be, there watched the diminutive Ren, somehow the least of her brothers and sisters, peering into a holo projection twinkling upwards from a datapad held at the level of her waist. Against the darkness of her private chambers on the chartered vessel the projection warbled more harshly, more vividly in hues of gleaming, humming blue and white. It was a pair of floating orbs and a wide, toothy grin -reminiscent of the creatures that children imagined hiding under their bunks. It spoke quietly to the blue cloaked Ren in an gentil accent from some far flung rock on the other side of the galaxy.

“You have the same intel provided to the rest of the teams moving to the station, but we know something extra: the target has a special weapon, most likely a specialized variant of a lightsaber and a number of artifacts. Secure and bring that back to me. Discreetly, as well. Don’t bother if any of your fellows take notice.”

Something fiendish resided in the tone when quite suddenly the illusive timber of compassion permeated the next bit of the message.

“Remember, this will be our best bet with regards to quietly suppressing your. . . needs. Help us, and we can help you. It’s in your hands now. Good luck.”

With that, Racosidae squelched the channel and proceeded back to the boarding ramp. Wrapping her cloak more tightly to herself with a long frown, she wondered who else, if anyone else, was on this flight to the station.

 

[Progflaw99]

​

| Objective 1 |​

​

Free Polis Army Safehouse | Outskirts of Halcyon, the Capital​

​

--- --- --- --- --- ---​

"Bricks, or maybe some lead pipes - wouldn't you know it. The Free Polis Army's big plan was to take over the sewage system." He joked. "I can respect that, not everyone knows what it means to get your boots dirty - or can appreciate it." he said in response. Moments later, the two climbed into the cab. Shutting the door behind him, he rolled down the automatic glass window and activated the engine. With a low hum the lorry came to life, Atlas' hands wrapping around the controls as they began to move forward. Pulling away from the small dwelling, the two headed deeper into the city, carefully navigating along some of the less traveled streets. Atlas, despite his natural affinity for directional memory, had to continually glance at the scribbled drawing which lay open across his thigh.

"Well, I overheard some of the blokes chattering on the way in. Sounds like whatever it is we're delivering is part one - from here we're meant to head off to a spot near Alexander Square, wherever that is." Carefully Atlas brought the lorry into a left turn around a corner, a loud horn sounding behind them. "Woops!" he exclaimed, giving the transport a bit more of a bump in speed. "I can't seem to make heads or tails of this map." he said, a frustrated tone audible as he shifted the tattered page. "Would you take a look at this? I think I'm supposed to take the next right.. or is that a left?"

Pinching the page between his fingers, he held the page out to the lady. "Where are my manners." he said, eyes widening. "I haven't even introduced myself." He paused, bringing the lorry to a sudden halt as a traffic control device indicated red. He took the moment to look over and examine the woman as he spoke. "The name's Atlas."

[member="Petra Vitalis"] | [member="Konstantin Makarev"]​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"Right," said Petra, taking the map from [member="Atlas Viridian"] and examining it thoughtfully. "I think we were meant to take a left back there," she said after a moment, then turned the map a quarter turn in her hand, then said. "No, you're right. Keep going here and make the next right." She held the map out between them with her left hand as she popped her canteen lid off with her right hand, taking a long swig from the cool water within. They pulled to a stop at a red light and she raised her canteen in a gesture of comradery. "Petra," she responded frankly.

It wasn't long before they eased to a stop at the next destination, a pulling into a parking spot just off the street a block away from Alexandra Square. Petra tucked the map into her belt pouch, then hauled herself out of the cab of the truck. She rounded the back of the truck and lowered the gate, then leaped up onto the back of the truck and went over to one of the remaining crates, which she crouched down next to. They lifted it together, carried it to the edge of the truck, then picked it up from the ground again.

"Not lead piping this time," she observed; this crate wasn't quite as heavy as the last one. "Concrete blocks, maybe."

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Objective: 3
Location: Lua Major Mining Station.
Post: 2
Nearby: [member="Zef Halo"]

​

​

Ten minutes struggling with the door had yielded no results. The metal handle had broken off, leaving a piece of bar only two inches long attached to the turning mechanism, and though the door itself was intact, there was no way she could twist the small piece of metal with enough torque to get the door open, not even with the assistance of the Force did the damned thing budge.

Letting out a deep sigh of frustration she stepped back. It was so annoying, so very inconvenient. Staring at the flat rectangle of Durasteel, she felt her emotions begin to bubble and broil, in a rage she shot to her feet, letting out an animalistic yelp and slamming her fist against the door. It was a brutal impact, and Ilya hissed between her teeth when she saw that her knuckles were bloody and misshapen.

No matter, there was no damage she could not fix.

Focusing her strength and concentration, she gazed at the fresh wound, and pictured in her mind's eye the bones, joints, and sinew knitting themselves back together. She imagined the Gods hearing her call, and assisting her, granting her the power needed to repair her body. Before her eyes, the damage was undone. As the bones slipped back into their joints, she marvelled at how the edges of her hand and arm blurred as if they were merely a mirage, and as she moved the limb, it seemed to lag and jitter like a bad holovid.

Within moments it was over, and she turned her attention back to the door. No sooner had her eyes flickered back to the annoying, broken lock then she saw the infernal thing turn, and the door swung open to reveal a disheveled man brandishing a blaster.

"Don't karkin' move." Said the man.

Ilya smiled in response, following his instructions. "My hero!" She exclaimed, followed by a fit of laughter intense enough to cause her to gasp for breath. "Don't worry. I'm just a civilian." She smiled innocently. "The important question, Mr Rescuer, is who are you?"

 

[Shattered_Mirror]

Without hesitation, Kael surged through the opening of the residential habitat and spilled out onto a shrouded walkway. He had been taking cover inside the abandoned unit, as he waited in muted silence for a roving band of rioters to pass on. It wasn’t the ideal hiding spot, but as he was caught out in the open and had little time to react to their sudden arrival? He was thankful that it was enough to obscure him from sight, and that he was able to move onto his objective without being molested by hostile forces. Had they seen him, it was more than likely they would’ve tried to kill him - forcing the man to reveal himself earlier than he would’ve liked and made things complicated. Bodies were easy to hide if there was ample enough cover around and the time in which to move them from where they had crumpled. Sadly, Kael had neither the time nor patience to stash these bodies away. Nor did he believe that the people in the square below would take kindly to the site of their own being thrown over the edge, to flatten themselves against the pavement below.

Thus, they would live to see another day, or at least until they crossed the wrong person later on down the line.

Now, freed of his ephemeral bonds, the Operative dashed across the drenched skyway and vaulted over one of the retaining walls that lead to a hidden staircase below. As soon as his padded boots had kissed the reinforced concrete steps, Kael bounded from the surface and crashed against the opposing wall - gracelessly breaking his stride. He couldn’t stop now. As his mission window was slowly closing, the man had to move quickly in order to reach his target destination and, complete the first phase of his operation. While he would’ve relished sprinting openly through the streets, it would be a reckless move that endangered everything, despite the amount of lost time that would’ve been made up. He wouldn’t be in this damned situation if his Grav-Chute didn’t malfunction halfway through the drop, forcing him to drift off-course and crash onto the surface of a hab-block. Thankfully, the unit that he smashed into was unoccupied and no-one was hurt, but it was enough to draw out the attention of several parties that lived in the levels below. Which, had forced him into hiding in the first place, and lead him to this unfortunate circumstance.

With several close calls passing him by, and his chronometer ticking ever closer towards its fateful terminus, Kael dashed through a side-door that led the man to stand in the middle of a mist-strewn street. The overhanging lights bathed the passageway in a foul light, painting his dull obsidian armour in an ochre hue - and causing him to stick out like a sore thumb should some hapless passerby turn their gaze down this darkened alley. Before that eventuality had come to pass, the Operative ducked behind one of the refuse collection bins and waited. There were no cries for alarm, and his suit’s system hadn’t picked up anyone making a break for it. That was good, as he was still undetected and was nearer now to his objective than ever before. He paused for a moment, spending a few precious seconds to take a breath, before resuming his course towards his distant goal.

As his armoured boots pounded through the shadows, the Operative keyed his suit’s internal comms and transmitted an encrypted message to his Handler - breaking their momentary communication blackout and informing her of his… misfortune. It was when he finished relaying his message, and severing the connection before it could be tracked, that Kael had found himself entering the outskirts of the district, known locally, as Alexander Square.

| [member="Petra Vitalis"] | [member="Atlas Viridian"] | [member="Konstantin Makarev"] |​

 

[Zef Halo]

The smuggler inspected the woman from head to toes, suspicion boiling in his survival senses sharpened by decades of life in the underworld. Her sudden exclamation made him frown and squeeze the pistol harder.

"I ain't nobody's hero and I ain't no one, kid." Zef stated trying to downplay his panting. The pistol still stood levelled. The goddamn kid was possibly a few years younger than his daughter. More or less. He wasn't really sure. At his age, they all looked the same to him.

Why the feth is she so fethin' okay with the situation?

Zef had a knack for perceiving things. Not really a natural skill but something acquired over a long, long life of survival in the lawless galaxy. That didn't make him a mind reader, he wasn't 'blessed' with that poodoo called the Force. What he knew was that the mining station was mostly inhabited by aliens who worked almost as much as slaves but weren't called such for whatever reason. This kid before him didn't fit much the picture but heck, if she had been by some chance on this station much more often than him - she'd know the way to the docks where hopefully Corellian Bolt remained intact.

"You know the way to the docks, kid?" He asked sharply. The pistol wavered, no longer completely straight levelled but still no completely levelled down. "I ain't got no idea what the kark happened 'round here, but I can trade ya a ride off this damn rock for you to get me to the docks."

He wasn't lying with the deal but nor he was completely certain that things were going to go that exact way.

Zef, also, still needed a medpack gravely.

[member="Ilya Cardonne"]

 

[Chubs]

Allies: The Fighting Men and Women of the First Order Stormtrooper Corps | [member="Kael Garick"]
Enemies: [member="Petra Vitalis"] | [member="Atlas Viridian"]
Objective: Secure the Perimeter

Private Barris Hadley turned to face his platoon lieutenant as he addressed him. The gingers grip on his rifle tightened, and he stood straight. The rest of his compatriots in Gamma Squad followed the action. "Alright," Lieutenant Gorbets barked, "Sergeant Dorn, you'll take your squad four blocks up to the north-east," The officer snapped, "Colonel wants this to be a nice, clean operation, so speed is key here." A silence fell over the unit, "No objections? Get your pretty little arses rolling!"

As Gorberts moved off, Dorn turned to her men, "Alright boys, lets hoof it!" She commanded, waving over and rallying the remainder of her unit, they departed with a brisk jog, into the Neo-Politian slums, rifles close to them. Each and everyone of them departed, and followed, eyes scanning the horizon. Dozens of stormtroopers were now dispersing themselves, into the nearby buildings. Searching them, and even more so surprising their inhabitants with their presence.

"Bloody colonel," Corporal Gribb glowered, "Karkers expecting the speed of a bloody armoured division from us stormies." He grumbled, "Man doesn't-!" Sergeant warningly raised her fist. Even though she wore a tight, plastoid helm, Gribb already began a humiliating walkback. "Sorry Sarge..." He mused, "I just, uh, it's just like training, and training was a huge pain in the-"

"Shuddup Gribby!" Another stormtrooper snapped, "You're running yer bloody mouth again." Gribb muttered something under his breath while the rest of the squad chuckled. Well, chuckled as much as they could while running through the streets of a possibly hostile territory. A silence passed, and Chubs quietly counted the blocks, until they reached three. Once there, Dorn raised her hand, and with the discipline of droids, the unit stopped. They were now at an entry to a square, colloqueally known as Alexander Square.

"Alright, fan out, and set up a checkpoint." Dorn commanded, "Secure street corners, and get yourselves ready to contain, and reinforce people." She added, "Comms unit on, and deter civilians from entering the area, move 'em back as far as possible." Dorn continued, "No civilian casualties people!" Dorn then looked over the squad, "Chubs, move over that way, and clear the street." She commanded. Chubs nodded, and began to move on, as Dorn prepared the remainder of her men for perimeter sentry duty.

Chubs moved down the dirty streets. Fortunately they were already empty. Seems they'd tried this at the right time. However, as Hadley continued his rounds, he spotted something. A truck. Knowing his duty, Chubs approached the vehicle, weapon held close. He felt his lower lip quiver. He hated talking to people. Especially new people. The authority of the uniform did nothing for him, and he still felt very cagey when talking to civilians. Like he was an excessive bother.

Chubs bit his lower lip, as he approached the truck. He heard some straining from the rear, and approached once sure that the cab was clear. Upon his finishing, he stood tall, "Ahem," The stormtrooper began, watching as they heaved down a crate, "I-I-I..." He stammered, and closed his eyes. His whole face clenching in embarrassment, "I hate to be a bother," He finally got out. A feeling of palpable self loathing befalling him. "But uh, this uh, areas off limits." He gestured to the far end of the street, "I uh, suggest you get yourselves movin'." He continued. Before standing to attention.

 

[Eyros]

Their thick armoured boots made harsh crunching sounds as they pressed upon the broken ground of the installation. Each of the Golden Company mercenaries hopping out of the shuttle with their weapon of choice at the ready, fanning out to spread their numbers across what appeared to be one of the executive landing bays to the higher side of the mining facility.

“Something happened...” One of the Thyrsian warriors muttered, his voice played through the ears of his companions by the internal communication suites of the company’s armour. “Feels…wrong.” Novax sniffed the air as he listened to his soldier. He had to agree, there was a sense of unease around the platform, something beyond the usual jitters one would gain from the silence of what should be a completely active and busy station.

“We’re going to have to work our way down.” He had knelt, gloved fingers grabbing a small piece of rock that seemed to have fallen from the buildings ablative walls, it crumbled as he ran it between his thumb and fingers. “Inside though, I can’t help but feel we are being watched.” He stood again and gave the area a solid look around. A collection of small structures that were scattered around the top rim of a great crater, small logos deemed them the property of some planetary organisation that had continued to rip the moon apart for their own profit. As the small landing pad ended the actual facility spread down like a great worm slithering down into the endless darkness below.

“We have lots of readings from the facility itself.” Another Thyrsian, holding a scanning tool said from the back of the group bringing Novax’s attention back from his musings. “Potential survivors, or enemies.” The group began to move, overly casually towards one of the closer structures that seemed to indicate itself as an entrance into the interior of the complex.

Novax took the moment to step alongside Khonsu and place his hand on the Sun Guard’s shoulder. “I advise caution. Whatever, or whoever did this…” He ignored the darkening of the light as the entered the structure and into the artificial interiors of the mine. “…It’s not natural and they, it is powerful. I can feel them. Somewhere.” He did not sound fearful, just curious as any sun guard would be. A curiosity he was hoping that would be removed with his own blade to the head of whatever this thing was and not the other way around.

[member="Khonsu Amon"]

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Objective: 3
Location: Lua Major Mining Station.
Post: 3
Nearby: [member="Zef Halo"]

​

​

At the man's no-nonsense response, her face lost its exuberant expression. Whoever this person was, he meant business, and laying on the charm wouldn't make him any more agreeable. That was fine with Ilya, that was all an act, a farce. She assessed the figure in the open doorway. "You are wounded." She remarked impassively. "I can get you to the docking bay, but you will die without medical attention." She paused for a moment, thinking. "You seem to be more of a burden than a boon in your current state. Though, I based on the blaster you're brandishing there, I don't really have much of a choice."

With any luck, the old sod would kark it before they even got to the spaceport terminal. If not, she was confident he could be disposed of without trouble. She sensed no connection to the Force from the man. He would be weak to her deceptions.

"I agree to your terms." She said, stepping out of the small side room and into the ruined corridor. "We're in an offshoot from the passage that connects the mining station to the Spaceport. If we follow this corridor out, we should be able to get there in a few minutes." Without waiting for a response, Ilya lead the way, navigating her way around the debris and wreckage that littered the corridor. Sheets of insulation had torn from the ceiling and wars, warped metal plates littered the floor and live wires dangled from the ceiling. As she made her way around each obstacle, she paid the injured man behind her no mind. If he failed to keep up, or fell and perished, it was no skin off her nose.

Eventually, she reached the door connecting their small side passage to the main corridor between the Mining Station and Spaceport. As she approached, she felt a slight twinge in the Force. Something was... Off. Frowning, she placed her palm on the surface of the blast door connecting the passages, only to withdraw it back a moment later, recoiling from the pain.

"It's hot. There must be a fire on the other side." She turned back to face the man. "We can't go this way. I think our only other option is a spacewalk, and only if we can find some EVA suits."