Enter the Ice Age [ Galactic Alliance ]

[Micah Talith]

​

T A N T R A
Outer Rim Territories
Metharian Nebula

Spoiler

https://youtu.be/kEGuHdKn0Lc

The planet was locked deep in an Ice Age.

To a degree, Tantra reminded Micah of home. His secondary home that is, that was also covered in a permanent winter, the small fortress carved against the crevice of a mountainside ridgeline.

But where Atoa had its bouts of mild winters, the entire landmass of Tantra was covered in ice a kilometer deep, and most of the oceans were also frozen over. In addition, the atmosphere was poisonous, rendering the surface of the glaciers inhospitable.

Galactic Alliance scouts in a Joint Task Force with Omega Pyre were steadily working their way through former Protectorate worlds. The mission was to reestablish the trade route, secure the sectors, and meet with dignitaries to discuss the Galactic Alliance and what they were working towards. Already several of these worlds were signing treaties and embracing becoming members of the Galactic Alliance. In this, where they had once served under the Protectorate, they would have equal footing with every single entity and representation within the Alliance.

Mission Xesh - Aurek - Nine directed a scouting party down the Rimma Trade Route. As these were near former Moross Crusade worlds, Micah Talith, son of a former False God, would join the party.

​

[ Congratulations, humans haven't been on Tantra since the Netherworld event.]

The automated drone of Eyebot, the custom crafted droid [member="Kaili Talith"], his sister crafted for him, floated along Micah's shoulder.

[ Nice place to visit, b-uut... I wouldn't want to live here. ] Micah's voice would state with a note of mild humor, scanning the frozen wasteland.

[ Dying here is much more likely. ] The deadpan statement from Eyebot would pulse through Micah's helm with the matter-of-fact tone of a protocol droid.

[ N-iiiccce pep talk. ] The wry, feminine voice of Micah's companion would quip back.

Beside him the rest of the Galactic Alliance and Pyre scouts would fall into place, scanning the landscape for life and any signs of the natives. Reflecting the harsh climate, the Pyre codex informed that the Tantrans lived in settlements sealed off from the outside world, often buried deep inside the ice, and sometimes built on top of the frozen ocean, rather than over the continents.

They said that surface structures were linked by enclosed tunnels and, over longer distances, elevated monorail tracks. Large spaceports atop the ice connected the planet with the rest of the galaxy, with the landing pads built on special substructures to stop the heat of starship engines melting the underlying glacier. Decades ago, the planet was heavily dependent on imports, and it was also a center for trade, and had one major indigenous export, Banfra resin.

However, things since then had gone dark...

 

[Jsc]

Mel frowned at the frozen landscape before him. Lifting up his Viewfinder to his helm and scouting out what he could see. There wasn't much out there. This place really had gone dark. The signs of civilization were all around them. Founded in strange architecture and icy habitations, sure. But nobody was home.

"Guess we gotta go knock on the front door." He growled.

Mel was always growling. Always grumpy. Some of the soldiers said it was because he was old. Or because he had a stick up his Tefka. The Old Man paid these rookies no mind. He knew why he was always grumpy. Because his wife was a cheatin' gold-digging whore. That's why. And blasting bad guys made him feel better about that. Every. Single. Time.

Finch walked up the mysterious fellow with the disco ball droid. [member="Micah Talith"] or something. He seemed the type to know where the locals kept their 'doors'. Which seemed a rather important part of his plan right now. So Mel held out his Viewfinder to the fellow,

"Here. Take a look over in that direction. By the orange lights there. Tell me what you see. Gotta be a front door we can knock on somewhere out there, eh?"

He turned his helm to Eyebot and pointed at the bot dramatically,

"And you. Floating orb droid thingy. ...Can you cook a Chicken Quesadilla!?"

Um. Okay. For some reason Finch seemed to think that was a completely reasonable question right now. Some of the other GA boys looked at each other and shrugged. Welp. Guess the Lieutenant Commander must be going senile already.

 

[Audren Sykes]

Scouting was a throwback to Audren's days before joining the Jedi. It was exceedingly similar, at least. This place though...this was different. Tantra was a frozen ball of ice, not a forest world. And the atmosphere was poisonous to boot. Definitely killed the throwback vibe.

The Padawan had done a bit of light research before landing on the planet to meet with other Omega Protectorate and Galactic Alliance scouts. Tantra was in the middle of a very long-lasting ice age, one that saw the natives building into the ice rather than on the surface. Highways were tunnels through the ice, or there was supposedly a monorail for long-distance travel. They'd somehow reinforced the landing pads so the spaceport didn't melt as a result of ships coming by, but that had likely been some time ago. The place had gone silent, and nobody had been able to give an answer how long ago that had happened.

Unacceptable.

As the planet's atmosphere was poisonous and the situation entirely unknown, Audren wore some armor rather than the typical Jedi robes. He had his lightsaber, of course, and a knife, and his normal blaster. The armored suit was set to the 'snow' camouflage setting - appropriate, given the surroundings - and he blended in very well. He also carried additional oxygen tanks, as two hours was unlikely to be enough time. While the atmosphere allowed verbal communication, there were also comm channels dedicated to their use. Separated from Talith and Finch by some distance - though looking down into the same general area from a different angle - he was still able to hear the witty commentary provided by the unusual droid. Were he closer, he might have made a snide comment at the droid that he wasn't human, but given the distance he simply chuckled and let it pass.

The macrobinoculars made the distance between his position and the valley floor short. One would have thought that the spaceports would provide access to the Tantran cities, but apparently the earliest scouts had found those entrances sealed, all indicators darkened. That was why they were out here, looking for indications that other entrances remained available. After all, cutting into the cities of someone who was supposed to be neutral or possibly friendly didn't make for the greatest of impressions.

Some orange lights had attracted attention; being the only lights out here, it was no surprise. Personally, the Sephi was of the opinion that the lights were just left over from whoever had been here before, and that the best way to find the natives was to find the supposed monorail and get in through that access point. Even if it wasn't running still, it would have easier entrances than the surface would.

[member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Malcom Finch"]

 

[Ryan]

When he was told he was going on a outing, he imagined tropical beaches and sipping Mai Tais along with female companions. Guess he had mistaken the very word outing with dream vacation for Tantra was no were near to the amarian's high expectations. Nope, instead here he was suited up in a custom body glove that allowed for his tail to free movement and protection while standing on a planet made of ice. Both hands gripped upon his Merr-sonn Power 11r smg repeater as he kept his guard up on this frozen planet of death. His vulpine face was covered in a full helmet that added protection against the elements and the planet's poisonous air. Yeah, this was no vacation at all. Someone lied to him that the fighter pilots got all the best gigs, nobody told him he be playing follow the leader on forever winter fething land.

Sven needed a task to keep his mind from wondering off to daydreaming of warmer places and when the gruff old man named [member="Malcom Finch"] mentioned knocking on doors, the amarians ears would perk up... even though nobody would notice with his helmet on. "Sir!" Sven's silvery voice would break through the cold wind's thunder. "Oi can go take a closer luk!"

As much as the canine sentient complained innerly about this mission's location, he was a commando in the elite force known as The Tiburons. And what better choice to go bird dog for the scout party then their very own fox like soldier?

[member="Audren Sykes"] [member="Micah Talith"]

 

[Meeristali Peradun]

His first time in a frigid environment, this was not. Back when he was about the level of an experienced padawan, he had went to Rhen Var with a group of others in search of a crystal for his first lightsaber, which he had lost before it ever had a chance to see combat, doubtless sunk deep into the oceans of Manaan in the room it was dropped in against his will, along with a woman-shaped dent he'd left in its ten-foot-thick durasteel walls. Tantra was only a step or two removed from those crystal caves, being colder than the comparison in his memory, and poisonous of atmosphere, necessitating a different getup than Hound-standard; it felt as if he was spending more time wrapped up than not, which was a boon to his becoming comfortable and familiar with the way he needed to move to operate - in theory, more variety of suit exposure increased his transferable skill profile.

Not a bad thing, at all.

For his armaments, one lightsabre hilt was magnetized to his right thigh, an SMG repeater on his left, and a sniper rifle magnetized to the back, because, well, you never know. The armour only allowed for so much, but were the atmosphere not poisonous, he could have gotten away with a bit of tapas and maybe more kit. He brought up the rear along with [member="Julius Sedaire"], an ear on the chatter but no response for it - though Finch's comments marked him as the annoying one - eyes only drifting from his rotating scan from area-group-area to spy the orange lights mentioned. When the Amaran piped up, Stali glanced at his training partner, as if to communicate something derisive in nature without saying it - though if there were words, they would be in the vein of small, yappy dogs. Maybe something about pilots.

If you can't take a good ribbing, this life isn't for you.

He continued his scans, fingers in a loose rest on the butt of the blaster bound by magnetism to his left thigh. The average soldier would be carrying, but the Felacatian had a mean draw, by virtue of species benefit. So he watched, primed for trouble, while decisions were made.

[member="Sven Tolen"] | [member="Audren Sykes"] | [member="Malcom Finch"] | [member="Micah Talith"]​

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Julius had came because Meeristali was here, and because the two were becoming friends outside of the sparring ring as well. The other bladesman was naturally quicker and stronger than Julius, even in his peak condition. And so it drove the Corellian to be more cunning, to think faster, smarter, and rely on his intellect and instinct rather than raw physicality. The challenge was needed, really and he didn't mind it at all because if he was to achieve his goals, then just doing the same old things at an even keel would not serve him. His enemies would not fight at his level, or fight fairly, and so he needed a partner to train with that would do the same.

Scaning, he tightened the thick wool scarf wrapped around the rebreather he was wearing to help offset the bitter cold. As always, his vanguard armor was present on such a likely hostile mission, warden cloak clasped around his shoulders swirling in the faint eddies of a breeze, with a section of the wool wrap around his mouth tugged up in a make-shift hood that concealed all but a fringe of hair sweeping across his brow and piercing eyes that scanned the surroundings for any sign of well... Anything... Particularly in his case, they scanned for possible hostilities and threats. Far from some engineer or the like, it was the be role suited to him, and while one hand might occasionally shield his eyes from the glare to check something, ever was the other close to the handle of his bolt-pistol or the hilt of his lightsaber, always ready and present for a threat.

The look from 'Stali was caught, and returned with a rolled pair of eyes, shaking his head at the other and allowing a cracked smile that could be seen in the Corellians grinning eyes. Were he more inclined to, he might have even been the type to use his mind to throw a snow-ball at someone, but surely he wouldn't.... Would he?

[member="Meeristali Peradun"] | [member="Sven Tolen"] | @Audren Syke | [member="Malcom Finch"] | [member="Micah Talith"]

 

[Micah Talith]

Eyebot was not amused.

[ I am not a food processor ] the singular optic eye would dilate as if to simulate being perturbed. Beside [member="Malcom Finch"], Micah gave a snicker.

[ I don't know, I think the man is onto something. Maybe we can get that upgrade installed next time we see Kai. ] had his helm been off, everyone would see the mirth that shone within his orange eyes.

The mention of the orange light would be taken seriously, and as the others joined their little scouting group, Micah gave a nod.

[ There is definitely something out there. ] came the feminine chime, the flicker of orange lights shining through the snow drifts. [ Underground entrance maybe?]

[Could be.]

A voice chimed in. It was the Amarian. A volunteer! Fantastic. The last scouting group he went with had more volun-told participants than volunteers.

[ You've some energy there solider. ] Micah would state at [member="Sven Tolen"]. [ And I'm sure you are good at that offer. ] they didn't know exactly what happened to cause the loss of communication.

[ Buddy up. ] he would suggestion, panning over to [member="Audren Sykes"], the man with the macrobinoculars. [ Let's go at this as quiet as we can... ] he said, turning over to [member="Meeristali Peradun"] and [member="Julius Sedaire"]. The former well... wouldn't quite be so inconspicuous, but hey, he'd rather have him fighting at his side any day.

[ Let's move out!]

​

 

[Jsc]

Finch gave a nod. Both to Eyebot and to Talith. Was he disappointed that the floating orb could not cook a Quesadilla? Yes. Yes he was. But that was a topic for another mission. Or at least? ...Supper time.

"Okay people. Orange lights across the expanse. Let's go. We've got doors to find and alien's to solicit with luxury furniture. Ha. Nothing stops this Alliance choo-choo train."

Mel put his hand in the air and pulled on the air horn. Choo choo. Yeah baby. It was go time. The Old Man looked to [member="Sven Tolen"] and his welcome enthusiam,

"Ha. I like your spunky soldier. Take that poor Omega sod right there and scout out the ridgeline approach. We'll traverse down the middle and meet you at the lights. Good plan. Great plan."

Furrowing his brow. Somewhere in the audience an Omega soldier pointed to himself in distress. Me? I am the poor Omega sod he was talking about?

"Yes you."

Oh... The Omega trooper shrugged. Um. He was pretty sure that Finch wasn't in his chain of command either.

"Bah. Don't have to be. Team sport son. Team sport. Now put on your big boy panties and get moving. ...And Tolen. Don't let Mr Two-Legs here wussy out just because he's human. If he lags behind you beat him with the patsy stick. Got it? Good."

A helmet shook with disbelief. Ya know. I swear to Gods I didn't say anything.

"And whistling! Here we go."

Lieutenant Commander Finch descended the shallow slope and began a happy shuffle out towards the wandering orange lights on the horizon. Humming a sappy tune as he went. Completely unaware that nobody had jogged out to follow him. In fact. Somewhere behind him another GA soldier approached the poor Omega scouts and apologized for his erratic behavior. Eventually the two groups nodded with understanding. Looking towards [member="Micah Talith"] and shrugging their shoulders. After all. Every expedition needed it's go-to crazy person. Well. This one's was already a good distance out into the tundra. Just peddling away and whistling to himself.

Choo choo.

 

[Darth Metus]

The Galactic Alliance was growing.

It seemed that each passing week brought the nation deeper and deeper into former Protectorate space. By the efforts of those dedicated to pushing back the Darkness, new worlds were being introduced to the collective at an impressive rate. However, when such a momentous undertaking was at hand, it fell upon the Alliance's shoulders to protect its members. This meant, obviously, a military presence...in addition to quickly and efficiently investigating when things go awry. Suxb was the case with Tantra.

Such was the reason Isley had braved the ice.

This was the first outing that the former Mandalorian took part in since his induction by [member="Ijaat Akun"]. It was, admittedly, a far cry from the work he was used to...and that was something Isley was perfectly fine with. However, scouting a moon caught in a literal ice age would require more than the Dar'manda's typical attire. For one, his armor was not enough to protect him from the harsh environment. And it may have reeked of the Dark Side...just a little. As they were an organization dedicated to pushing back the Darkness, Isley figured that the Alliance would not be comfortable with that sort of thing.

So, the Dar'manda commissioned something to be made. Something that accomplished the job of warming him up...and circumventing the age that had settled into his bones. Power Armor was the name of the game. Approaching from the rear, Isley made contact with the scouting party relatively quietly. He was fortunate enough to catch the gist of the plan before the group headed forward. Raising his chin in greeting, he addressed two of the closest scouts.

"The name's Isley. Mind if I buddy up with you?" ([member="Julius Sedaire"], [member="Meeristali Peradun"])

 

[Audren Sykes]

The group was spread out, and wisely so. An existing crack in the ice could be nothing, or it could be an ambush. Or seemingly-solid ice could break under a foot and send the scout hurtling into darkness. That was the point of this whole set, nobody knew.

One of the other scouts, a canine of some sort, got a bit of a perk when the lights were mentioned. It couldn't be seen physically, but through the Force it was obvious. No problem there, people got excited over the strangest things, especially non-Sephi. Even the accent wasn't really a problem, it just took a little concentration to get past. No, the problem was how Micah reacted to it. He thought it was a good idea and gave instructions to buddy up - both of them fine with Audren. He specified out the Padawan with his gaze when speaking about buddying up however, then shifted his gaze to the other two. Which essentially meant he was stuck with the canine.

The Lieutenant Commander accompanying the group seemed rather odd. Going on about trains of some sort, then instructing an Omega Pyre soldier to accompany the canine. The interaction was amusing, as it appeared the commander was off in his own little world, just a slight bit different than the rest of them were in. And what the heck was it with him and chicken quesadillas?

Audren didn't reply verbally, simply tilted his head. That allowed the response to be seen despite the flexicris visor covering his face. Pulling his blaster forward, though still leaving it slung over his shoulder, the Jedi cautiously started down the slope. One thing he noticed right off was the ridges. Invisible from above, the ridges ran horizontally across the slope in no particular pattern. They weren't parallel, so unlikely that a machine made them, but they were definitely present. Whenever he stepped on one, even as lightly as he stepped, the ice covering it crunched and flaked away, revealing a small hollow inside. He could have poured some liquid inside to see where it led, would the liquid not have frozen solid in seconds. Could some sort of creature survive in this weather? If so, would it be a threat?

Resolving to simply keep his Force senses sharp, the Sephi continued on. Not too close to the somewhat annoyed Pyre soldier, nor to the canine creature, but incessantly moving forward. And trying to ignore that fething whistling coming through the comms.


[member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Malcom Finch"] | [member="Sven Tolen"] | [member="Meeristali Peradun"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"] | [member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Julius glanced at the newcomer walking up and smiled wanly, forgetting again the wrap about his face. The strange technique he had been practicing since their arrival, called tapas by the Master on Sullust who had taught him the basics, worked surprisingly well really. Even in just minimal wrappings and coverings, with his armor on, he felt the biting cold barely, the Force keeping him just above uncomfortably cold. The best use of any such power was just enough to keep from debilitating or uncomfortable effects. Just enough so it didn't compromise your other abilities really. In this case, the cold was still felt, like a possibly unseasonably breezy spring day, or a slightly warmer than usual fall morning, but it was not a pleasant and sunny day in Julius' neighbhorhood. Both out of necessity due to his struggle and learning curve with the more 'esoteric' bends of the Force, and due to wisdom in application.

Briefly, he nodded to Isley, and then to 'Stali, as if saying it was fine with him if his companion and sparring companion was okay with it. The voice that came from beneath the wrap was muffled and indistinct, but carried with it a natural humor and sort of cadence that spoke of those who looked at life through laughing eyes, because if they didn't they might never stop wallowing in sadness.

"You're welcome to come join us on this fine tiptoe through the tulips friend, though be warned I do believe they said the air conditioning isn't quite fixed... Though I heard something about quesadillas, so as they say... Hope blooms eternal.. "

Offering his hand out, he greeted Isley formally.

"I am Julius of the Alliance, good to have you trekking with us.."

| [member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Audren Sykes"] | [member="Isley Verd"] | [member="Malcom Finch"] | [member="Meeristali Peradun"] | [member="Sven Tolen"] |

 

[Micah Talith]

[member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Audren Sykes"] [member="Isley Verd"] [member="Malcom Finch"] [member="Meeristali Peradun"] [member="Sven Tolen"]


[ Think it's the locals? ] the feminine voice would chirp through their headset comm. With the group spreading out to do a proper and careful survey, Micah and Captain Quesadilla went left while the other's did their thing.

[ Could be. Could not be. ] Micah's voice crackled.

[ Could be your doom.]

[ What is your humor setting again?] the Talith asked.

[ Ninety-Five percent.] came the flat response.

[How about we drop that down to ninety?] Micah chuckled out. Snow would crunch lightly under his boots, and he began to crouch low as they drew near.

[ How's it looking there, Bravo?] the question was directed to [member="Audren Sykes"]. His helm came with an ocular macrobinoculars that were good to use for a specific range. So far no movement.

But that didn't mean that orange light bunker didn't have any down underground.

 

[Jsc]

Ahem. That's *Lieutenant Commander Quesadilla* to you son.

Or it would have been, had Micah said it out loud. Though Finch probably would have taken it as a compliment anyway. He was flawed and optimistic like that. Taking war with a grunt and cooking with a twirl of his mustache. Sadly, he felt like taking his exploring with a side of whistling. A act of leisure that seemed to rub elves the wrong way. So he awakened to his mistake and turned his helm com to: receive only. Ah yes. Much better.

The Old Man paced across the cold ground with a chipper step. The wind against his shoulders, the dust under his boot. He didn't mind the little things in life. Sweating up a storm in your space suit and fogging your helm's visor were all just part of the job. Today an iceball. Tomorrow the jungle. Same salary either way. So he choose to take the job in stride. Traversing the alien terrain with a queer touch of happy-go-lucky.

Or maybe he was just crazy. Who knows?

"Heads up ladies. Think we've found something." *his com was still off*

Ahem. He tapped his helm back to transmit,

"Right. Okay people look sharp. The orange lights are coming from two abandoned vehicles. Recently discarded by the looks of things. Guess we're not the only birds picking about this joint. Ah. I've got footprints leading down towards that cave formation. Looks like our scavengers went underground. Followed by the vehicle drivers not long after. ...Hmm. Must have been concerned for their buddies if they left the lights on too."

Mel knelled down to let everybody catch up. Fancy that. Guess this place wasn't as empty as they thought. Of course, these vehicles didn't belong to the locals either.

___

[member="Micah Talith"] [member="Isley Verd"] [member="Audren Sykes"]

 

[Audren Sykes]

The banter continued through the comm. Witty banter, very encouraging. And it was coming from a droid of all things; they were supposed to be programs, logical. Not prophetic doom-machines. But hey, what could the Padawan do besides shoot the droid down? He suspected that would be frowned upon at the very least. One blessing was that the crazy Lieutenant Commander had shut up with the whistling. Audren hadn't shot the man any dirty looks, so it had to be something else that triggered the change. Unlikely to be Force-based, but there was always that possibility. Or he had just realized how bad it sounded.

One good thing about the LC, he'd come with them to the lights instead of pulling the officer's "go look at this and report back" idea. That raised Audren's opinion of him a bit.

[ How's it looking there, Bravo?]

The question was directed at Audren, but Finch's voice cut through the comm unit in response. It turned out the man wasn't a complete idiot either, even if he was crazy. Two vehicles, heavy-duty ones too, left abandoned with lights lit. Footprints heading into the nearby cave, check. Some of them overlapped, indicating they were stepped on by followers, but it was impossible to tell just visually how long had passed between the leader and follower. He was right about the drivers following the passengers though, the footprints proved that. The Sephi pressed a gloved hand to one of the treaded vehicles and found that while the engine was warm to the touch, it was barely so.

"Confirming two vehicles and footprints. Engine on one of them is still slightly warm. Cannot confirm occupants were scavengers or a time difference between leaders and followers, but the drivers did follow the passengers into the cave."

The macrobinoculars he wore didn't give any hint to what might be inside the cave: once the light from outside faded out, there was nothing to see. Maybe he should have gone with the electrobinoculars, those could actually enhance images. Instead, he reached out to the cave through the Force. There was no sign of life, but he wasn't able to sense too far into it without moving closer.

"Cave contains nothing living within the first ten meters, no visible bodies either."

For all the good that did. The Padawan assumed that the others would congregate on the vehicles and moved away somewhat. The vehicles were an easy target after all, and with the comm units he could hear as clearly from one meter away as five or fifteen. He situated himself in a manner that anyone looking out from the cave would see white against white, with the exception of his gun. It wasn't raised yet, but he did have it in hand and ready to use.


[member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Malcom Finch"] | [member="Sven Tolen"] | [member="Meeristali Peradun"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"] | [member="Isley Verd"]