Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!
Kaleb had gritted his teeth under the hail of blaster fire. He had faced countless foes before, but to say that he had faced a group of rogue Imperials were something else entirely. He could hear the shouting of men, the screams and the explosions as he kept his saber close to him. Deflecting any blaster bolts that had managed to whizz past his face. “Sir, we need to press the attack or we’ll be bogged down here.” The trooper next to Kaleb shouted as he finally snapped out of his momentary shock. He wasn’t going to be surrounded, he wasn’t going to die at the hands of these pretenders. By the Emperor’s will would he gain some advantage.
Using the Force would he grant himself a burst of speed. He moved faster than the blaster bolts did, he would angle his saber with his wrist, dancing the blaster fire away from that of his own, or his squad of troopers. “Let’s show them the meaning of Empire… yes, down all of the pretenders go.” Kaleb said his insanity mixing in the heat of battle. The squads of stormtroopers would start firing back at the new imperials that had surrounded them from all sides. Several of the New Imperials dropping to the ground from the blaster fire.
Several of Kaleb’s squadmates would follow suit. The mad Inquisitor was now leading a charge of stormtroopers shooting all around the platform. On each side of the platform was new imperials firing one by one, Kaleb would deflect and return some of the fire heading his way, but kept his main charge where ahead of him were a couple E-WEB turrets lined hoping to gun the attackers down right there.
With a whirl of his wrist did Kaleb take the incoming turret fire. Arcing his lightsaber so the returned blaster fire would hit the sides of the platform. Troopers fell to the ground one by one. Kaleb now bearing a feral smirk would take his free hand and absorb the blaster fire. Yellow eyes glowed back into the shiny visors of the New Imperials, before all the energy that Kaleb had was sent shooting back outwards. The returned spread from Kaleb caused much of the turret emplacements along with the crews to fall dead from the returned spread of blaster fire by Kaleb’s mad hand.
There was a silence as the haze of ionized smoke along the platform faded. Kaleb could now only hear the hum of his crimson blade as he looked back to the remaining troopers of his mad charge. Kaleb would shut off his saber looking to his men. “Platform secured… We need to push deeper into the shipyards. The enemy will be hiding behind the shipworks.” Kaleb would say with sinister determination, ready to venture deeper into the belly of the beast.
Aris. A world rich in resources colonized by Imperial colonists centuries ago. However control of the planet has long been contested by the native ape-like Wok-Wok who have proven themselves to be a thorn on the side of the Empire's efforts to full extract the valuable resources of the planet so that they could be put to use into the Imperial war machine. As the Empire continues to expand it's reach across the galaxy in the wake of the Battle of Coruscant, the Imperial Ruling Council had moved forth to decree the extermination of these creatures in order to ensure that the valuable resources on Aris can be extracted and utilized without any sort of interruption.
Thus, ISB Colonel Rackham had left Dark Imperial space at the head of a moderately-sized task force for Aris ready to lead the Imperial effort to suppress the Wok-Wok and restore order to Aris in order to further advance Imperial interests. With the pacification of Aris, the Empire would begin the first steps towards it's ultimate goal of advancing into the Banking Worlds of the Braxant Run which would strengthen it's economy and enable it to further challenge it's rivals in the Core Worlds more effectively. As their opposition was only a bunch of primitive scavengers, the Colonel was certain that today's operation would be nothing more but a walk in the park, as he did not expect the Wok-Wok to put up any significant resistance.
Colonel Rackham's Task Force emerged from hyperspace arriving in orbit of the Outer Rim world of Aris. Consisting of four Imperial-III Class Star Destroyers, two Praefect-class Star Destroyers, two Phaetra-class Star Carriers and Rackham's Defiance-Class Star Destroyer, the Imperial task force would move into position above the Outer Rim planet ready to begin the Imperial operation. Standing onboard the bridge of the INV Thunder, the Defiance-Class SD under his direct command, Colonel Rackham gazed upon the rainforest covered world ready to unleash the might of the Empire upon the defiant natives. "We are now approaching Aris, Colonel." the senior navigation officer said. "Good. Begin the first phase of the operation. I want all known areas containing Wok-Wok settlements set ablaze" the Colonel ordered.
Before long, squadrons of TIE Terminators and TIE Annihilators emerged from the hangars of the two Carriers rushed towards the surface, soon splitting up into smaller groups as they entered the atmosphere of Aris, heading towards separate places across the planet that were known to contain Wok-Wok settlements as previously mapped by Imperial colonists across the past centuries. As the TIEs made their approach, the Annihilators would begin their bombing runs, unleashing hundreds of devastating incendiary Blazing Bombs upon the settlements lighting them and the surrounding rainforest ablaze in an overwhelming display of Imperial might, with the intention of both stunning and paralyzing the Wok-Wok and disrupting their ability to regroup in order to decrease their battle effectiveness.
Today the Wok-Wok would feel the true might of the Empire, and this was just the beginning of the Empire's operation to pacify them.
A clearing job, nothing glamorous nor extraneous, it was a simple and straight-forward mission. Ashel kept an eye on her HUD’s timer, the distant sounds of TIEs making strafing runs were quietly heard. With nothing more than a nod, a simple acknowledgement, the planet of Aris was in the process of losing one of its native species. Ashel for her part was on patrol and confirming large settlements of the Wok-wok and other encampments. While they were primitive, they had a knack of scavenging parts and fashioning impromptu tools. Their cunning and ingenuity might have been useful if the species hadn’t attempted to scavenge and make life difficult for the Imperial Colonists attempting to mine the precious metals on the surface.
Waving her hand she motioned for the rest of her team to mount back up and continue their patrol. She was hardly one to enjoy getting rocks or sticks thrown her way, and their job presently wasn't to engage but to observe and report. Let the animals throw stones at the armour while we’re inside. Their APC awaited them and with a simple thumbs up the driver began to headout on their predetermined patrol path. The other troopers appeared bored, at least according to herself, their shoulders rather slumped and their heads facing a tad upwards.
Clear signs of loss of focus. Ashel couldn’t blame them though, her own awareness felt rather lackluster. The comm-network had reported more news of bombing runs, the clearing job seemingly out of their hands and rested entirely on the Navy. But none of the troopers around her complained, in fact it was a luxury to feel a sense of boredom for once. There had been rumors of a Mandalorian and Alliance pincer attack on either side of Empire space; it had caused a spike of tension and anxiety. But with the news of the Mandalorians seemingly collapsing, a failure cascade of their leadership probably, the only enemy seemingly was the Alliance.
“All there’s left to do is to build up and stand ready.” Ashel mumbled as she inspected her HUD’s timer once again.
The bridge of the Edifice hummed with an intensity that mirrored the battle unfolding in the vacuum beyond its thick armored hull. Admiral Zethran Cott watched the tactical display, a holotable brimming with the shifting symbols of friend and foe. His steely eyes remained fixed on the escaping corvettes and frigates attempting to flee from the Borosk shipyards. The enemy's desperation was palpable, and Cott could almost taste the impending victory.
"Fire at will," Cott had ordered, and now the moment was at hand.
The Edifice, a New Imperial-class Star Destroyer, responded instantly to the command. Its turbolaser batteries swiveled with mechanical precision, locking onto the fleeing vessels. The massive, primary turbolaser cannons along the dorsal spine of the ship glowed a fierce crimson as they charged, the energy buildup vibrating through the superstructure. The bridge lights dimmed momentarily as power was diverted to the weapon systems, and then, with a brilliant flare, the Edifice unleashed its full fury.
Scarlet beams lanced out into the void, streaking across the cold blackness of space. The turbolasers struck the first corvette, a nimble vessel trying to dart between debris fields for cover. The energy beams sliced through its shields like a hot knife through butter, carving deep, molten gashes into its hull. Armor plating vaporized under the intense heat, and secondary explosions rippled through the ship as its internal systems overloaded. Yet, despite the onslaught, the corvette twisted and turned, desperately trying to evade the kill shot.
The Edifice's weapons continued their relentless barrage, joined by the other ships in the fleet. The Manifest and Imperator, Donnager-class cruisers flanking the Edifice, unleashed their own salvos of turbolaser fire and ion cannons, targeting the lead frigate in the fleeing group. Ion blasts crackled across the void, disabling the frigate's shields and leaving it vulnerable to the punishing turbolaser fire. Blue and green beams from the Escolta-class frigates—Might, Fortress, Defiance, and Charm—added to the deadly light show, their medium turbolasers and missile launchers peppering the enemy ships with precision strikes.
Cott watched as the tactical display showed the enemy corvettes and frigates staggering under the barrage. One of the corvettes, the one designated as priority target Alpha, buckled under the concentrated fire from the Edifice. Its hull shattered, pieces of debris scattering in all directions, but the ship itself, though crippled, still managed to limp forward, engines sputtering.
"Increase power to forward batteries," Cott ordered. His voice was cool, almost detached, as if he were discussing a routine maneuver rather than the systematic destruction of enemy forces. "Let's finish them."
The gunnery crews aboard the Edifice responded with swift efficiency. The forward turbolasers, now fully charged, fired in a rapid sequence, each shot hammering the already damaged corvette. The beams tore through the ship's remaining structure, breaking it apart piece by piece. Finally, a direct hit to the engine core caused the vessel to erupt in a brilliant explosion, a brief, fiery bloom in the darkness of space.
The enemy frigates fared no better. The concentrated fire from the combined might of the Imperial fleet overwhelmed their defenses. One frigate, its shields completely down, took a direct hit from a proton torpedo launched by the Defiler, an Inceptus-class corvette. The torpedo slammed into the frigate's port side, punching through the weakened hull and detonating inside. The explosion was catastrophic, ripping the ship apart from within. Fragments of the vessel spiraled out of control, smashing into nearby debris and other fleeing ships, adding to the chaos.
Yet, despite the carnage, some of the enemy ships still struggled on. Another corvette, its engines damaged and hull scarred, attempted a desperate dive towards the planet's atmosphere, hoping to escape into the cover of the planet's gravity well. But Cott was not about to let any of them slip away.
"Target that corvette," he ordered. "Full battery fire. I want it destroyed before it reaches the atmosphere."
The Edifice and her escorts responded in unison. A final, overwhelming volley of fire lashed out, and the fleeing corvette was caught in the crossfire. The combined firepower was too much; the corvette disintegrated under the onslaught, reduced to a cloud of molten slag and twisted metal.
Cott allowed himself a small, satisfied smile as the tactical display showed the last of the fleeing ships either destroyed or critically damaged. The enemy had been denied any chance of escape. The cordon around Borosk was secure, and with the gravity wells now fully active, no reinforcements would be able to enter the system—or leave it.
"Status report," Cott demanded, his tone commanding.
"All targets neutralized, Admiral," the tactical officer reported. "The enemy has been fully contained. No survivors detected."
Cott nodded, his gaze returning to the vast expanse outside the bridge viewport. The wreckage of the enemy fleet drifted lifelessly, the remnants of what had once been a formidable force. The battle for Borosk was nearly over, the Dark Empire's dominance now all but assured.
"Prepare the fleet for the final assault on the shipyards," Cott ordered, his voice low but firm. "If they will not submit, we will leave nothing standing."
A short burst from the alarms caught his attention, his eyes rapidly moving back to the tactical display.
"Sir, there are escape pods from the ships. We count nearly fifteen thus far."
Cott thought for a moment.
"Have Tyvek intercept them."
He looked again, this time noticing a non-hostile fleet on the scans.
"What have we here? Raise that force on the comms."
A moment passed, sure as the comms officer sought to catch their attention on the right channels.
"This is Fleet Admiral Cott of his Imperial Majesy's Navy. State your purpose here. This is a designated Imperial combat zone."
This was not just another undercover mission. Agent Pen-Ar-Lan was used to forging elaborate cover identities and memorising thousands of minute little details to withstand the scrutiny of law enforcement and other agencies, both in the present, and later on, when it was all analysed after the fact. This time, law enforcement was on her side. There were no long term objectives to the cover. Instead, the scope of the operation remained short.
Still, her hair was dyed brown and her natural grey eyes wore lenses colouring them in a warm hazel colour. The outfit was worn, sturdy and suitable for someone spending far too much time on the streets and far too little time in the comfort of their own home. They were baggy and had plenty of pockets. Pockets which could easily be believed to contain food stuffs, needles, perhaps a knife or just some scrap. It was a ruse, of course. While she did carry some of those items, most pockets contained advanced surveillance equipment.
She had been seated by the side of the street at a busy market. Walls on the ground level were a rare sight, for shops were planted in every building and stands littered the streets and the central square. While it might normally have been a bustling center of local commerce, the area now had a more hostile atmosphere. The reddish yellow light from the setting sun revealed angered faces underneath dark hoods. Where merchants would usually call for customers to get the best wares for the best prices, they now seemed small and weary of what might happen next. Circling law enforcement vehicles had been ushered away with rocks being thrown and paths being blocked.
The clenched fist of the Imperial Army threatened to be coming down at them at any moment: Dissidents, disorder, it was not to be tolerated. But then, that might be exactly what some of them wanted: An increased level of conflict. A cause for more people to rally behind. Regardless, the Army would wait, for a different option had been selected instead. At least for the time being.
With an ear piece hidden under a thick layer of hair, the brunette agent sat with her legs crossed and hands hovering over a small fire she had created in a can. Whilst listening to the people she was monitoring, big round eyes curiously scanned the market for the man she was waiting for. A certain Prophet Jebriell Poven
Kaleb would press deeper into the interior of the shipyard with the remains of the squads that attempted to stop him, now charred husks left in the former pieces of cobbled armor. Kaleb was bloodthirsty as he felt the false Stormtroopers that were running around all over the place. Trying to go against him. He wouldn't be impeded, as he pressed ever onwards into the metal underbelly of the shipyard. There was a moment of unsettling calm as Kaleb could hear the the machine work against TIE Fighters moving through an assembly line. He felt that there would be more, hiding and waiting for Kaleb to let down his guard at any moment.
The eerie quiet would continue to persist through as Kaleb led a squad of Imperial Stormtroopers through the workings. They were still there, he could hear them still scurrying on about. He could still sense them preparing rifles on them. Were they drawing Dark Imperials in, or was it all a trap. The squads were pressing deeper into the machineworks only to reach the other side unscathed. Several Dark Imperial Stormtroopers were lined up along the door, slumped over dead to prove to be a mysterious warning.
"Seems like we're being expected, Sir." The Stormtrooper commander would say to Kaleb as the Inquisitor went along the entrance that went deeper into the shipyards. "I sense that we're being expected." Kaleb would say ominously as he kept his saber close. The eerie feeling never seemed to leave him, as he felt that eyes were already all over them. All Kaleb could do was venture deeper, heading along the path leading to the control room, with eyes always on them. Just where was he being led to?
Empress Teta. Home of the old secret cult Krath, land of which the Qel-Droma Epics so imaginatively talks about. A planet of ancient, forgotten history. Jebriell passes through the common croud of people, almost blending to them. He's wearing their clothes, walking as them, the Prophet even has the mass' aura. His work, he knows, forces him to lower himself in front of the masses, but it is something that always infuriates Jebriell. The cattle is there for the superior to command. And still, he simply can't right now. The effort he's putting in to destroy every trace of the dark side within himself shouldn't be betrayed by mere arrogant impulse.
The Prophet knows who he is to meet, at least by name and appearance. Ines Pen-Ar-Lan
, if Jebriell remembers correctly. No matter, he knew the perfect way to identify her. Every imperial has this scent, this aura that flows through them, a certain relation with the force that marks for certain that one follows the Empire. Very accustomed to invading and changing the minds of various people, he knew how to identify people. And yet, none was found that matched the description.
Jebriell's surroundings were opressive. The place was certainly beaten up, a shadow of what it was. While in no way similar to Nar Shaddaa, the specific street the prophet crossed was full of beggars. They were cold, desperate for a mere gram of food. They were despera-- They were weak. Trying to analyse them won't change the fact that all of them are indubitably, absolutely weak. If the Prophet wanted to get out of this miserable shadow-planet, he would first have to identify the Agent. Focus, and anyone can be found.
While searching through the meeting point, he found the famed Agent Ines. Not using his feeling, because she didn't have the recognisable stench of any loyal imperial. No. No, she had something else within her own heart. Other than that, her looks matched the description, and the place she was in is indeed the one described. The old, kind man -a veil of a much profound master of the dark side, Jebriell knows- approached the agent, and sat right next to her.
"Lovely day, isn't it, dear?", the old, inoffensive man said, with a lovely voice. His smile, while not condescending, showed the young spirit inside that old shell of a body. "They said your hair was blonde..."
Her eyes followed him as he moved into the square. At least for a brief moment before wandering over to something, or someone, else. From the outside, it was hard to tell whether she recognised him or not - but sooner rather than later, she would seem far too occupied with keeping her hands warm rather than people watching.
Eventually, he came to sit down by her side. A shy, bordering on weary, smile was offered as she kept her eyes low. Seemingly unsure of whether to look to the stranger or not. An eager nod followed as he spoke of what a good day it was "Y-yes, it's a good day" she stammered, her voice light and frail, whispering of a brighter past.
Then, he spoke of her hair. The eyes which had previously avoided his shot up with an intelligent and playful glint. "Then perhaps they said too much" she smirked whilst allowing her tone to carry the underlying meaning with it: Perhaps they had not told him the truth
While a normal passer-by or busy merchant might not have noticed the difference, the Agent had dropped her mask to him. A fragile hand reached for a railing which went a bit above her head as she started to heave herself up. Just as easily as she had slipped out of the persona she wore, she slipped right back into it. A group of people passed by within less than a meter. "L-let me help you up" the nervous stutter was back as weak arms were offered for him to grab onto. She would then bow down a bit to put her mouth close to his ear as she helped him up.
Once more letting her Imperial accent be heard, she spoke in a hushed voice "I have located the nest of their leaders. If you can handle them, we might be able to kill the dissent in its crib." when she had helped him up, she stood back and looked to him with warm hazel eyes before offering a subtle, but sharp, bow of the head. Then, the Agent turned to move deeper into the market.
If he followed, the duo would make their way through rows of stalls and thick crowds of people. Some watched her carefully, causing her to hide her hands in her pockets. Clearly, she had a little bit of a reputation already. Eventually, they would arrive at a narrow entrance squeezed in between two storefronts. She produced personal card with the image of a middle aged twi'lek and used it's access to open the entrance for them. A humble glance was thrown to the Sith before she stepped back to let him enter first.
Still in the doorway and a little bit removed from the crowds, she asked "They are in an apartment on the fifth floor. They are armed but aging. From listening in to their conversations, I have gathered that they don't care much for threats of violence but they do care deeply for their families. Do you have any questions or requests before we go in?"
The agent revealed much of herself in trying to gain the Prophet's attention. She actually had the luxury -the stupidity?- to act as herself. In a galaxy where dog eats dog, that simply won't do. Astonished by that preposterous showing behind her veil, Jebriell continued with the act of the old, humble, oh so passionate man. Still, something was off about the girl. He couldn't feel her dedication for the cause. She wasn't like any other Imperial he knew. There was a lack of fanaticism, but not fueled by greed like the other ones. Such interesting lady, she was. The Prophet let her help him get up, making up the illusion of a frail, weak old body. His sincere little smile -or so it seemed- was bright, full of hope. While the veil was still raised, his eyes betrayed him. They were not good-intentioned, old, frail like all his actions and expressions. They were intelligent, rapid eyes.
"Why kill, if they are of so much better use alive, dear?", the old man said, still with a lovable tone contradicting the words of which he just said. "We're not assassins, after all...", the Prophet mocked, a subtle smirk flashing on his face. He followed the agent, of course. She was the more experienced one when it came to routing, investigating. He cared to at least make some distance so as not to be linked with her image. He soon understood she wasn't known for good things around here. The Prophet gladly accepted to go first when Agent Ines gave him the space to.
When the Agent made her last question, the Prophet smiled even more, on the border of breaking the veil he so hard worked to maintain until this very moment. "If I have any questions? Well, not before we finish the specific matter we're here for. After that, the time might as well be all ours, don't you think?". Feeble dissidents. To sacrifice your entire purpose in function of attachment is something Jebriell will never understand. It only shows the weakness of collectivism, after all. One mind has to flourish above all others. Not to merely lead, but to govern all others. The mind of a single individual, when put up to good use, might as well be worth a thousand others.
The old man made his way inside the building. An old, decrepit one. Abandoned, for all he knew, if not for the rebel pests in the fifth floor. The place looked so ancient even the elevator wasn't working. It was certainly strange for such a building to be near one of the most important commercial areas of the planet's region, but it only shows how much it has fallen. After a tedious, slow walk to the 5th floor, the serene old man also slowly changed into another aspect. He certainly wasn't more serious, but one could tell he held great antecipation for what would come. He put his hand inside his suit, and held the Shikkar he made with much enthusiasm. The prophet knocked on the door four times, took two steps behind and made the Shikkar visible, his left hand in front of his stomach, as if he was putting the blade to a children's neck. All he needed was for someone to get close. Only one of the dozen people he is feeling through the door. Jebriell said very quietly to the Agent, "I need but their leader to survive. You may kill the rest, if you so choose".
From a distance, it was possible to listen to a 'who's there'. Yes, only two more steps nearer would suffice. A second after, the aspiring-to-be Sith said out loud "Someone here wants to see you!". The Agent couldn't hear a thing, but the old darksider was utilising a technique called Qâzoi Kyantuska. The unfortunate dissidents that got close enough would hear an exasperated scream from the person they're the closest with. Maybe a brother, a children or even grandchildren, it had no matter, for the screams were all the same: 'Open the Door!'
Of course the rebel wouldn't sacrifice their own blood for the cause. They were not as devote as Jebriell himself was. They simply couldn't be. A pacifist with a weapon is as foolish as one with none. "Now, now, don't move or I will gut this one like we do to Banthas. My friend here only wants to talk", the old men said, forcing himself not to chuckle. The veil was completely broken at this point. The old man had those mad eyes only a certain kind of people had. He wasn't a particular fan of killing, but that he did love: torture. Even if the person he was holding was a mere illusion, the desperation of the rebel in front of him was as real as it gets. And wasn't that the point? Breaking someone without even laying a finger on him, that required talent.
The eerie quiet didn’t cease to end as Kaleb and his squad continued to enter deeper into the shipworks. There was no opposition, not yet but he had wondered if even he would be drawn into an ambush. It would make sense given the overall gravity of the situation. Stormtroopers were frantically looking all over, the unsettling feeling that the whole strike team was being observed. Why? He wondered, as he had been led deeper into the complex, past the assembly lines of TIE fighters, and various droid arms tending to pieces of Imperial starships waiting to be properly assembled into a complete design.
What was strange most of all, was that the team made it into an open door. Red lights flashed along the hall, as if deliberately showing the way to the team. The commander was right, they had been expected. The ambush card was still a forefront on his own mind. The red lights were leading to the shipyard command deck. Why were they making it so easy, they could have sent waves of rogue imperials looking to blast them all. More questions seemed to arise faster than there was any answers to be had.
The stormtroopers marching to either side of Kaleb were on edge. Frantically pointing blasters into each corner they ran into, they were expecting to be attacked at every moment. The eerie stillness remaining, even as the strike team would reach a turbolift. “Seems like we are guests for whoever is expecting us.” Kaleb said, his tone filled with caution as he and his squad of stormtroopers entered inside.
The turbolift would zoom upwards, a view shown of the outside battle was there. TIE fighters against TIEs, destroyer against destroyer. Kaleb marveled at the exchange of green turbolaser blasts with one thought. ‘It was all a waste.’ Why couldn’t they just negotiate, accept the Imperial fold? He suspected that whoever was luring him towards the command center would tell him.
Several moments of quiet persisted through the turbolift ride. The casual hum of the elevator accelerating upwards the only sound there was. The troopers felt a moment of ease, able to take a breath as the strike team awaited for whoever was waiting for them. Shortly after did the turbolift stop. The pristine halls of classic imperial sterilization shown more clearly now, then the more industrial parts of the shipyards inner workings.
The turbolift doors opened and to each side lined up rows of rogue stormtroopers. Weapons resting in their hands part of a simple formation. “I don’t like the looks of this, sir.” The trooper commander said. Kaleb nodded. “Duly noted, but we must put an end to this.” Kaleb said quietly as he moved forward into a cautious stride towards the end of the formation.
Kaleb and his team would emerge into a large command center. Imperial officers, technicians were lined at various consoles. Ahead did he see a masked figure covered in dark robes, but his aura in the Force was more neutral.
“I’ve been wondering when you would come.” He heard a mechanical voice speak to him, his tone sounded oddly welcoming as he turned to face and greet the new arrivals.
He asked why they should kill instead of leaving them alive. The agent expertly tempered a skeptical brow from rising. Instead, she leaned her head to the side with a sweet smile as she hooked her arm around his to get a bit closer for a whisper, apparently still weary of being overheard. "I spoke of killing the dissent, not the dissidents." Unhooking the arm, the Agent took a step back and gave him an almost playful look before moving with him towards their destination.
***
It seemed as if the Prophet had no questions for her regarding the situation at hand. Now that they were in a more secluded location, she offered a professional nod and a sharp "Understood" before moving to a position by the door. Now that they were close, she kept her tone low and words short "If you want them alive, we will take them alive. I will arrange for a transport and some men to pick them up."
As she went ahead and called in the shuttle, the force user readied himself and lured the occupants to open the door. Her eyes lingered on the empty space he held a knife in front of, not even trying to hide her confusion as she looked to the elderly man, still not within sight of those inside. She shot him a final puzzled look before capitalising in the situation he had created. Quickly, she spat in her hands and brushed them through her hair to get some structure before tying it in a tight ponytail with a few loose strands here and there. It was done with one switft motion and was followed by another as she pulled a scarf up to cover her mouth and nose before finally unzipping the loose fitting hoodie to reveal two blaster pistols and a knife underneath. With a few brief moments, she had transformed from a desperate and feeble person living on the streets, to a determined robber.
Pulling both blasters, she moved into the apartment with a bit of speed. "No weapons! I don't wanna hurt anybody. Comply and we'll all walk away from here with our lives. Get down on the floor, hands over your heads. I need to make sure none of you're gonna something stupid." her voice was no longer weak or soft - instead, it was deep, gruff and assertive.
As the dissidents slowly started to comply, the agent kept her watchful eyes on them, it was clear that she had done this in the past - or at least, that was how she made it appear. At one point, she let out a loud hutteese curse word whilst approaching one of them with quick steps "I told you not to do anything stupid" nimble legs stepped between the others to bring her to the man quickly, allowing her to press a barrel against his head as she directed the other barrel at the others.
"You're a scummy little nerfherder, yknow that?" anger was clear to hear in her voice. She pushed harder against his head with the barrel, forcing him to bow down a bit further. She then threw a glance to her companion whilst casually brushing her open hoodie to the side, revealing that she carried restraints. She then tilted both weapons to the side and back, indicating that her hands were full.
Kaleb stood at the entrance of the Control Room. Stormtroopers were in formation on either side to him, as both he and his squad stepped closer to the mysterious robed, and masked figure before them. It seemed like them both were uninvited guests of a sorts. Even for as mad as Kaleb was, he wasn't entirely sure. What started off as a shootout upon entry into the Shipyard interior, had turned into a journey of discovery. It was as if the one who was in control of the station was staying his hand, greeting his guests, and overall had a calm demeanor that seemed rather off putting. Crazy as Kaleb might have been, he didn't like how the situation was playing out.
"Expecting us? Did you know we would come for these Shipyards?" Rather than beating around the bush, Kaleb felt it only right that he would come out and say it. Why put it off any longer, especially if this man could kill them all when he had the chance. The Stormtroopers next to Kaleb remained on edge, but still stood with guards up. The man turned to look towards Kaleb, turning his head to the side as if studying the Dark Jedi curiously. He spoke, his tone sounding as calm as before. "I did. I wanted to see if you were worthy to meet. It seems I might have been onto something." The masked man started to approach Kaleb slowly, a gloved hand reached out as if to touch the mad Inquisitor. Kaleb would make no moves to try and stop him otherwise. He stood as still as a statue. The man approached closer, as if examining the armor, the saber, the dark presence as if he was some unique specimen.
"So I passed some pointless tests... I've come to see to it you surrender, or I take you out." Kaleb would say, his words issuing a deadly threat that accompanied his tone. The masked man stood back a little, a chuckle came to his lips. "My boy, I didn't talk just to fight. The Dark Empire will take this installation and well, look around you. We are all Imperials." Kaleb would scoff at the words. "That's debatable these days, the Dark Imperials would differ." Before Kaleb could speak did the mystery man raised his hand in protest. "First, Sith, New, Dark. Does it even matter anymore. The Imperials cry out across the galaxy. The only way the Alliance is stopped, is by joining together." The mystery man said. Kaleb wanted to argue back, but listened closely and thought of the truth behind those words. There was many empires and factions throughout Galactic History, but Kaleb seriously thought if he should willingly kill them all.
Kaleb would growl begrudgingly. As if he was inclined to agree. "So, if you do not want bloodshed? What am I supposed to do with the lot of you?" Kaleb would ask, his fingers trailing down the hilt of his Lightsaber, as if the Inquisitor had second thoughts. The old man continued to speak calmly, as he raised his hands open palmed, perhaps to show him that he was unarmed. "Let us join you. Let Borosk become part of the Imperial fold, as it had during the New Imperial Order." He would finally say out loud. The eerie quiet turned into one of cautious anticipation. Kaleb letting the offer sink in, as he thought heavily about what the man was proposing.
Kaleb had pondered the offer made by the mysterious man before him. There was an odd temptation for him to strike the man down, he could end things right here, right now, now all of a sudden this man was trying to join the Dark Imperials? Why? Kaleb was trying to find some rationale that could go along with this thinking, but even so he wasn’t sure what to take this offer. His eyes widened upon hearing his words. “Why should I believe you?” Kaleb asked his voice heavy with skepticism.
The mystery man chuckled, as if finding the question amusing. “You won’t, but know is it better to kill each other in a shoot out? Or would it be best to rejoin with those who favor Imperial unification.” The mystery man said, as the man turned would Kaleb notice his eyes on a lightsaber, his hand quickly coming to his saber. “Who or what are you?” Kaleb would demand with a hostile tone. The mystery man seemed ever so calm. “I am…” He paused before he continued, “I was a Knight of the New Imperial Order.” He revealed, a twinge of regret in his calm tone.
The man didn’t appear to make any sudden moves. Kaleb on the other hand had felt a little tense. He was unsure of what to do with the former Imp Knight revealing himself. “I should kill you.” Kaleb would say to him, while the imp Knight chuckled. “You should, but my offer dies with me as so do you all.” The imp knight said, the stormtroopers raising blasters towards Kaleb and his squad. “What choice is it gonna be, friend.” The imp Knight would say to Kaleb.
Kaleb felt the instinct to activate his saber. The Stormtrooper commander looked to him. “Whatever you say sir, we either fight our way out, or we accept the offer.” The trooper commander said, his voice was a tad shaky, even through the muffled sound of his helmet. Kaleb’s eyes narrowed, his fingers flexed. He stared down the man, the rogue stormtroopers with blasters raised. He had come to a crossroads, what was it gonna be? Would it be acceptance and alliance, or rejection and death all around?
Kaleb could feel a pivotal moment take place. The tension ready to be pushed over the edge, even as blasters were raised towards him and his squad. Kaleb narrowed his eyes upon the mysterious Imp Knight that had extended an olive branch of sorts. Kaleb could move and strike him down, his madness surely would have enjoyed it, or he could accept the Imperials wishing to join the ranks of the Dark Empire. He could choose or end it all in an instant. The Imperial Knight would say nothing, patiently waiting for what the Dark Jedi would choose.
The Stormtrooper commander next to him had looked shaky, while he was willing to follow Kaleb’s lead, he didn’t feel like dying in this control room. The silence was deadly anticipation waiting to explode. The mad Inquisitor slowly flexed his fingers on his lightsaber, part of him had screamed just to slay the man, but another part had argued that there was enough violence for one day.
The eerie silence would continue to persist. Kaleb reacted slowly, his fingers going from his saber to extend out towards the man, his hand appeared as if ready to shake the Knight’s hand. “Normally, I’d kill you. But after all the trouble for an audience. The Dark Empire would be willing to accept this offer.” He said, while his eyes had shown some clear measure of mistrust. Kaleb was willing for once not to give into the screaming bloodlust that compelled him.
A light chuckle came from the imp Knight, a slight gesture of his fingers caused the blasters to be lowered down. “Excellent! We would be honored to be fighting Imps once more.” He would say, outside of the calm there was excitement. All of the Stormtroopers seemed to relax, while the mystery Imp knight had taken Kaleb’s hand and with a fierce grip would shake his hand. “I’ll notify the others.” The mysterious Imp Knight would move over to the comms of the shipyard controls. Already could Kaleb hear the chattering of those that manned the defenses, or even engaging the Dark Imperials.
The trooper commander looked to Kaleb, letting out a sigh of relief. “Can we start going home now, sir?” The trooper commander asked. Kaleb would give a smirk, his hands resting to his sides as he watched the Imp knight hard at work, talking to all those to lower weapons, and let the Dark Imperials proceed. “Yes, Commander. I think we can start going home.” Kaleb would say, relief filled in his tone as he gave the trooper’s shoulder a light pat, as he started to feel himself relax.
Zethran Cott
Hugot Tyvek VII
Aurelian Sigismund
