For 3000 Years, They Ignored Our Calls for Help | SSC Dominion of Jabiim

[Darth Libertas]

(5)

Lythian Pirate Outpost, Jabiim.


Slavery. An age-old practice that continued to be pervasive in the Galaxy despite its proven inefficiency in a modern, industrialised and highly technological economy that required a skilled labour force and where droids were far more effective. Machines did not need to eat, drink or sleep and were far less likely to rebel.


Why then did so many regimes continue to make use of organic slaves? The answer was probably psychological. To put it plainly, being able to boss around droids did not give you the same sick satisfaction as holding the life of a fellow sentient being in your palm. Unless their planet was remarkably primitive, those who held slaves did so because of the power binge it gave them.


At least that was Sumiko's conclusion when she walked through the slaver outpost, accompanied by her usual posse. The former Inquisitor was remarkably flexible in morals, which was an euphemism for saying that she did not really have any. Thus she did not have an ethical problem with slavery per se, but regarded it as thoroughly wasteful.


"I trust you will show me your best merchandise. I want slaves who can pull their load. Not pathetic, diseased excuses of sentient life. I will be insisting on a full medical check-up prior to purchase," she said haughtily.


"You better watch your tongue," one of the Lythian pirates snarled. Doubtless he had immoral intentions.


"Keep your mouth shut, Carl," his boss snapped. "Don't mind him, Lady. I run a rough gang, but they know their place. I promise you, Lady, we've assembled only the best. You'll have no complaints. They'll serve you well as labourers...or for pleasure, if you're into that. They're very young. The new ones are a bit willful. You'll have to break them in," he winked at her.


Sumiko chuckled a bit. "Good. I like to imprint my will upon my property, if you know what I mean," mirth seemingly filled her tone and the pirates laughed. One of them leered at Zyanya, whereupon he felt a good deal of painful pressure on his manhood.


She'd ordered the best available slaves to be drawn up. It was true that the Lythian pirates made a profit by ferrying ore and slaves in and out of Jabiim due to a lucrative arrangement with Handooine's corrupt government. However, corruption was endemic in their system and so many slaves were simply sold on the side instead of ending up in Handooine's factories.


Sumiko's eyes fell upon the forsaken. You poor unfortunate souls, she thought to herself. "This is the best you have?" she asked, walking down the row. Some of them looked abused, some of them looked terrified. Several were very young.


"All prime stock, Lady. No diseases. Some need a bit of training, but I'm sure that's nothing for a woman of your reputation, eh?"


"By the time I'm through with them, they'll be thankful I ended up with me," Sumiko remarked coldly. She stopped near the end of the row. There was a Zeltron girl, bound by tight shackles, slightly hunched, frightened...and yet there was defiance in her emerald eyes. There was something special about her that made her stand out amongst the herd. Tilting her head from side to side, Sumiko realised what it was.


The girl before her possessed the Force. It was unrefined and untrained, but it was there. She sensed anger emanating from her. The Zeltron dared to raise her chin. "What are you looking at, whore?" the pirate guard hissed angrily and promptly lashed out with his whip. Pain surged through the girl when it lashed across her scarred back, but she refused to cry out in pain, though she lowered her chin. "Slut needs to respect her betters if she knows what's good for her."


"What's her name?" Sumiko interrupted.


"Oh, that's Nienna. You interested in her? I gotta warn you, she's a pest. Almost like a feral beast. I've been doin' this job for years, and I've never seen someone that unruly. There's way better ones on the market."


She has the potential to be a luminous being, not this crude matter, Sumiko thought to herself. The Atrisian was an unrepentant Forcer Supremacist. There were mages who acted as if they embarrassed about their powers and kept insisting that they were 'normal people'. Far as Sumiko was concerned, this was absurd. Force-Users' Guilt was the last thing she felt. "I'm interested in her. Give me a moment," she ordered.


"Sure, but we're watching," the Captain said, smirking. He was probably expecting non-PG-13 activities and looking forward to them. Alas, he would be very disappointed.

 

[Jessica Med-Beq]

Location: Jabiim
Objective: Locate the derelict prison ship (bring-your-own)
Allies: SSC
Enemies: Lythians
Post: 13/25

"Now we have two copies of the schematics. Since so little is known about its history, perhaps that may explain a few bits about the Lythians' presence on this planet"

"We are more than simply engineers looking to reverse-engineer the Tormentor for our own uses" Marcia said.

"I know, you're the more history-oriented of the gang. Even if you have the charisma of a brick, this is a little-known aspect of history. History focuses mostly on the military and political aspects"

They find the bridge and the communications array of the conning tower to be stacked one on top of the other, and the bridge is a typical KDY design: a walkway upon which the captain's seat is found, whereas the rest of the bridge stations are laid out in a pit. That's one of the things Ringovinda StarYards would not do: one-level bridge takes up half the space of a two-level one even if the stations were otherwise exactly the same. The three ladies gear up for another attempt at slicing the databases of the ship, but this time around they are after the flight logs. But little do they know is that there are many, many secrets still waiting for them in their memory vaults. They are anxious to find out about what caused the ship to crash on Jabiim in the first place, where it was headed, and whether some among the Lythians are suspected to be the descendants of those who survived the crash of that ship so many centuries ago. And maybe they will find out that KDY's information is erroneous, only the flight logs will tell.

 

[Darth Libertas]

(6)
Lythian Pirate Outpost, Jabiim.


They were taken to an area with more privacy, though the pirates were still watching. Sumiko leaned close to the shackled and collared Zeltron girl, and made a play of feeling her up. The alien flinched and a hiss escaped her throat. She looked like she was about to bite the Atrisian's hand. "Nienna, yes? I am Sumiko Tanaka."


The slave girl glared at her. If looks could kill, Sumiko would have spontaneously combusted. "What do you want from me, oh great Mistress?" she all but spat the word. "If you want to force yourself on me, go ahead. I won't submit and beg. Or just kill me already for being 'uppity'."


Surprisingly, the Atrisian chuckled. "Oh, I like you, girl. You have fighting spirit. You're not like the other slaves, aren't you?"


"I have no idea what you mean. I'm no plaything for your amusement," the slave hissed, looking a bit confused.


"Surely you do, dear. You're not like the common herd. You must've observed that even the guards are wary of you. They go the extra mile to discipline you, don't they? Tell me, were you ever hurt so badly you lashed out in your rage...and suddenly your tormentors were struck down?"


Something flickered across the slave's face, but then it was gone. "No. I don't want to talk about this."


"Are you a woman or a slave? A woman chooses, a slave obeys. You know that you're special. If you want to be stuck with the downtrodden and forever live with a boot stamping in your face, be my guest. Or I can offer you a way out."


Doubt, rage, fear and hope flickered across the girl's face. "You would set me free?" she asked dubiously. Doubt was strong in her voice, but there was a feral glint in her eyes.


"I don't want to own your body, or have you labour to death in a mine," then suddenly the girl could hear the Atrisian's voice resonate in her mind. It was probably a very disconcerting experience, but she did not flinch. "I can teach you how to be strong and never under someone's heel again. Are you strong enough?" There was more than a little hint of challenge in her tone.


This was the girl's first test, and she passed. After a moment of hesitation, she responded. "Yes. I...want to be free. I want to be strong. B-but I don't know how to use this...strength. When I did...many people were hurt."


"To endure is for the uninspired. Freedom is for the strong, and the strong don't run away from power. When the moment comes, I will loosen your bonds." The girl would take her life back with her own two hands, or she would die.

"Why would you do this?" Surely not out of the goodness of her heart.

"I was controlled once, too, and you have potential," she turned her head to the pirates. "Captain, I'm taking this one. She satisfies me."

 

[Darth Caecus]

Handooine
Open Objective/Handooine Diplomacy
Junko Ike Audren Sykes
6/25

Adventure? The way everything was shifting within the Force, Sabetha wasn't sure this kind of adventure was the kind she actually wanted.

As they approached the restaurant, two figures exited. But instead of walking off, they took up positions on either side of the door. Sabetha didn't think too much of it until she realized that-

"Master, they're staring at us," she whispered to Junko.

The trandoshan and a burly human male were indeed watching the pair of Jedi approach. She wondered if they'd been watching the street from inside the building. It seemed too coincidental that they had only come out just as Sabetha and Junko started heading in that direction.

Before they reached the door, both men stepped slightly inward, clearly blocking the entrance.

"Sorry. Restaurant's closed," chuffed the two meter lizard. His partner nodded, folding his arms over his chest.

Sabetha frowned, craning her neck to look up at them. "What do you mean? The building's full of people. How can it be closed?"

 

[Darth Libertas]

(7)

Lythian Pirate Outpost, Jabiim.


They had been led back to the slave pens. Nienna was being led on a leash like an animal. Sumiko could sense that the girl was in pain, for her tormentors had not been kind t her. The tight shackles made it difficult for her to walk, but any time she slackened, she felt the sting of a pirate's whip. Sumiko could have told the guards not to lay a hand on her, but she saw no need. Every strike would stoke the flames of the girl's anger.


"Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me."


There was truth to be found in the Old Sith Code, though many modern-day Sith didn't understand it. Conflict was fundamental to the universe. Individuals and nations competed with one another. This way the wheat was separated from the chaff. Jedi preached peace, but in actuality they needed conflict as much as the Sith. They needed pirates to pillage, slavers to enslave, Sith to burn and conquer so that they'd have people to save and be venerated by. They strengthened themselves by exercising their power over others. Much like the Coreward imperialists needed primitives to 'civilise'.


But power was a means to an end, not the end in itself. Passion, strength and power were intermediate stepping stones on your ascent to glory. You employed them to achieve victory: Not only over your enemies but, more importantly, over yourself and every obstacle within you that stood between you and what you desired.


"Glad to hear you found a slave you like, Lady," the Pirate Captain spoke, though she was not really paying attention. Her attention was on the group of armed slavers surrounding them. Owing to the threat posed by insurgents, they were well-armed. "Now, let's discuss payment, shall we?"


"Of course, I am a woman of my word and you've delivered," Sumiko responded, and glanced at Nienna. "Are you ready to obey your Mistress' every whim, service her and kill for her, slave?" she hissed venomously, pulling the leash tightly.


Nienna's body trembled with fury. To Sumiko, the Zeltron resembled a barely contained predator who longed to escape her cage and tear her prey apart. "Yes, I'm ready," she spoke through gritted teeth. Her lips were bruised.


"Good, girl," there was a probably unnecessary but dramatic pause, "kill your master." All hell broke loose. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. There was a loud sound of CRASH-CRACK and a groan. One of the pirates fell to the ground after a projectile slammed and crashed through his chest, causing a bloody shower. The enym was unseen and unheard. Before they could realise what was happening, the grievous CRASH-CRACK sound was repeated again. Little did the pirates know that a Noghri sniper was hiding on the rooftop of the warehouse.


Another Lythian corsair had his armour burst open like the carapace of a lobster getting pierced with a spike. "Traitor! Kill the woman, kill them all!" the Pirate Captain bellowed and drew his blaster pistol.


However, in the same moment Sumiko unleashed her power. All around the pen, the guards began to act oddly before they could rally to defend their leader. Some seemed paralysed, others felt a creeping sleepiness they could not resist. Above all, they felt a growing fear and worry intrude into their hearts. Their fear soon blossomed into terror. Some left, others suddenly found it difficult to distinguish their attackers from their own comrades, causing further confusion.


Abruptly Nienna's bonds were shattered and she leapt into action. Moving with what seemed like lightning speed she grabbed the Captain's arm and twisted the weapon out of his hand, before breaking his neck with a sharp crack when she twisted his head further than it should ever go. Blaster bolts leaping from a corsair's rifle were absorbed when Sumiko manifested a protective bubble, then he yelped in pain when Zyanya's electromagnetic manipulations resulted in his gun being blown up.


Nienna snarled like an animal when a pirate sliced into her shoulder with a vibroblade, but she spun and an invisible force rippled from her hand, sending him flying and knocking him into the ground. As she charged him, the alien suddenly began to change. It was as if she was undergoing a morphing process, now that her chains had been broken. Her teeth became elongated fangs that protruded over their lower lip, she acquired a snout and black fur spread across her body, covering her pink flesh. Her eyes glowed a fiery orange and she roared loudly like an animal. The pirate tried to defend himself, but by then she was upon him her sharp teeth ripped through his neck, biting his head off as she fell into a frenzy...

 

[Audren Sykes]

Objective: 'Handooine Diplomacy'
Location: Handooine
Allies Involved: [member="Sabetha Tag"] | [member="Junko Ike"]
Post: 4

Audren kept his senses active as the diplomats talked with the Lieutenant governor. What little he actually heard pointed to the talk being inconsequential, a hunch reinforced by the fact that they kept talking as food was delivered and served. Yet as he'd been told, the inconsequential talk was anything but, the two groups were feeling each other out.

In the next room over, emotions were flaring in wildly differing ways. Some of the people were getting angry, some were becoming almost giddy, and at least one was sinking into a curiously depressive state. Below, two of the presences that felt "off" stepped outside and waited there. Two others had a heightened sense of tension, but the rest of them didn't really have much at all in the way of changes. It was almost like they weren't aware of something the others were, which was rather curious.

Even more curious was the fact that the two who had stepped outside seemed to be stopping entrance to the restaurant. The first two that were stopped were Force sensitive, and one of them seemed somewhat familiar. From there though, his attention shifted. The Lieutenant Governor had just bluntly stated that she was the reason negotiations had been opened with the Sanctum. Drangea was trying to capitalize on them, but she claimed to be the one who had manipulated him into it. As she said this, the two remaining inside started moving, heading for the back where the stairs were. Their mindsets had changed: there was now the promise of imminent violence, something that was echoed in the thoughts of the two at the door.

 

[Qual'Zyanya]

(8)

Lythian Pirate Outpost, Jabiim.


It was pure slaughter. The pirates were surprised, disorganised and subjected to a barrage of Sumiko's mind games. Fear, dread and paranoia flooded their minds when the mentalist unleashed her malevolence upon them. Their worst fears came to life and manifested as demons. Some pirates succumbed so much that their hands scratched and clawed at their own eyes, tearing them out. Blood dripped down their cheeks, but even blindness could not save them from the nightmares crawling through what was left of their mind. Others fired their guns blindly, hitting their own comrades more often than not.


As for Zyanya...well, the drow had been let off the leash. It was time to unleash her fury. Ever since the Twilight of the Xioquo, her heart had been black with anger. For the humans and Eldorai who'd subjugated her proud people, for the Council of Matriarchs for dooming the Xioquo, for herself for inadvertently awakening Myrou and causing her sister's death.


Now was the time. These humans were not responsible for her people's misery, but they were subhuman scum. A guard who charged her received a taste of her wroth when she snapped his neck. Surviving pirates who'd retained enough of their sanity tried to kill her with blasters, grenades and knives, but they failed when she drew upon the darkness just as Tanaka had taught her.


Their weapons bent and twisted like toys when she unleashed her gift of electromagnetism upon them, blowing them up or turning them upon their wielders. As their pained screams filled the air, she drew her blade and closed in, hewing them down or stabbing them. Their anger and fear were like a drug for her and sucked them in like a sponge does with water, allowing these emotions to fuel her. The bizarre mutant who'd turned from a Zeltron into a bestial wolf tore through the pirates with the fury of a hellhound, shredding them with her claws and tearing them apart. None of them seemed able to withstand the onslaught. Zyanya could not help feel repulsed and yet admire her, as she moved in what seemed like a blur. Her angry roars blossomed into Force-empowered roars, sending opponents flying.


Seeing that their tormentors were too distracted to put them down, many of the slaves joined the onslaught, finding that their tools were useful to beat their captors to death. A guard who tried to stab Zyanya in the back while she beheaded a corsair was put down when the Noghri assassin put a bullet through his skull. Soon all but a few slavers had been slain and Zyanya stood above a pile of corpses. She was bleeding from several cuts, covered in sweat, her eyes were gold and she felt satisfied.


Lakghgraib approached the group, having slung his sniper rifle over his shoulder. The Noghri walked with a cat-like grace and almost silently. He seemed professionally nonchalant in the face of all this mayhem. "All resistance has been broken, Lady," he spoke softly. "What would you have us do with the survivors?" he gestured towards the few pirates who were still alive. These were generally the ones who'd been less cruel to the slaves and thus hadn't been beaten to death when their property joined the fight.


"Keep them alive. I may have use for them. We shall take their riches with us," Sumiko spoke dismissively. The captives might make useful experiments or sacrifices for the Elder Gods. Her eyes turned towards Nienna, if that was really the faux Zeltron's name. "You have taken the first step towards emancipation. You will join me now?" It was clearly more of a statement than a question.


"We're taking that...creature with us?" Zyanya could not resist exclaiming. Her nose crinkled with disgust. Humans and Eldorai were bad enough, but that creature felt positively feral and animalistic. "She is like a wild animal."


"I am no animal," Nienna growled and bared her fangs. She looked and felt like an animal puffing herself up and ready to pounce, though she was bleeding strongly. Her aura radiated unadulterated ferocity. "Call me that once more time and I shall tear you apart, alien."


Zyanya was about to retort, but then she felt that the words died on her tongue. For just a moment, it felt paralysed before the Sky Woman released her grip. "Be silent," she commanded frostily. "She is no more an animal than the Xioquo. Before me, both of you are equal. You have strength, Nienna, but it is that of a berserker. You will come with me and I shall teach you control."


The Gurlanin's fangs were coated with blood and still had pieces of human flesh hanging on them. This made her feral smile rather disturbing. "You kept your end of the bargain, so I shall come and help you...for now. But I shall be no slave or anyone's plaything," she spoke with a hiss. "Today has shown me that freedom is only for the strong. I will never be weak again."


Zyanya could not help but find the smile on Sumiko's lips disturbing. More than ever did the woman remind her of a Xioquo matriarch. Satisfaction washed over the Sky woman in waves. Her words dripped with venom. "Good, good. We shall take the best fighters among the slaves with us. I have such wonderful things to show you."

 

[Bubák]

Jabiim Mission 3


A good teacher.

Alaki sighed and looked aside, remembering her own mentors. The first one to take her under their wing was a true Jedi – dead, finding his final resting place in the old Jedi Temple on Coruscant when the explosives planted around the structure’s foundations went off. Her second teacher represented everything she hated – a bloodthirsty Dark Jedi driven by the Dark Side’s maddening influence. Not a single desire of hers had ever intended to be anything like that, and yet here she stood, twisted and fuelled by the malevolent power of the Force, much like the monstrous Gen’dai who had brutally educated her in his ways. Just thinking about it brought back the intense tingling of hatred. A Sith – that was supposed to be her path, her destination! To become a Darth Vader incarnate; not a broken Dark Jedi.

“Yes, you are right,” replied the blue-skinned teenager softly, thoughts rolling back to the present time and place. This wallowing through the endless rivers of self-pity, sorrow and self-loathing served no-one. The least she could do was to focus on the mission, possibly channel the negative… or not. It went against the Jedi way. Peace – peace of mind, the desired state of being. Preached by the Jedi, rejected by the Sith. In this regard, the young Padawan very much followed the first line of the Sith Code, perpetually stuck in this cage of hatred she had built around herself, losing the key to freedom in process.

Lifting up her chin, the girl fully exposed her face to the violent downpour, all regards for how silly she had to appear set aside. The cold rain felt refreshing, cleansing even, as its watery drops washed sweat, blood and dirt off from her exposed skin. She let out a girly giggle that got lost in the rain’s orchestra of various materials being drummed on; but not even the storm stood a chance against the sound of many vehicles sliding through the air. The small commando had crept through few more alleyways, sneaking past the increased number of patrols undetected, only to come across a road where a new speeder truck passed every few minutes.

“There,” whispered the leader, finger pointing towards a heavily fortified gate denying further progress on the main road. When it opened, one truck went in, another left its dark maw.

“The army transports supplies and ammo to the artillery cannons through that tunnel. Risky, but it’s the fastest route to our destination.”

“How do you know?” The fallen Jedi questioned, red eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“I was one of them.”


[member="Naamah Aesham"]

 

[Darth Libertas]

(9)

Lythian Pirate Outpost, Jabiim.


Naturally Sumiko did not evacuate all the slaves, for she had neither the means nor the desire. The strongest and most likely to obey her orders were invited to join her group. The rest would have to fend for themselves.


In all fairness, they could use one of the pirate ships to escape. It would be terribly ironic if some of them ended up pursuing the same profession as their tormentors, for the oppressed so often turns into the oppressor. Perhaps the Silver Jedi would set up a programme to help the escaped slaves, though in the Atrisian's experience helping the common people was the last thing on the Jedi's mind. They preferred swashbuckling 'heroics' that made them look good.


Regardless, their cargo and loot was being loaded up on a freighter. Zyanya was making herself useful by organising the logistics. Nienna stood at the landing ramp, looking at the dead bodies lying on the ground. "Are you ready for your new life, acolyte?" Sumiko asked in a slightly accented voice when she approached the xenos.


"Yes," the woman's feral eyes focused upon her. Sumiko did not flinch from the wolf-like face. "For a long time, I lived with the belief that people thought me a monster. Over time, I came to believe it myself."


Someone other than Sumiko would have said something sweet and reassuring, but she was not one for pep talks. "Monster is a fanciful word used by the ignorant for someone they fear and want to judge. The strong break these chains and are past slave morality."


"I understand that now. I will never again let humans, aliens or anyone else treat me with scorn and contempt," Gurlanin hissed. "I know now what it takes to be free: Blood and iron."


"Then you've learned the first lesson," with that Sumiko turned away and walked up the landing ramp. Nienna and Zyanya followed her. Soon all were aboard and the ship lifted into the sky, soon leaving Jabiim behind it. Their work here was done.

 

[Naamah Aesham]

(10)
[member="Alaki"]


Lady Vader. How amusing that this was the sobriquet by which many in the Inquisition had referred to [member="Mirien Valdier"]. The dark-haired Grand Inquisitor had been their slave mistress and mother, jailer and protector. When they erred, she punished them severely. Those who strayed too far from the path were broken, until they yielded and gave themselves to the Inquisition: Heart, body and soul. Yet she was also the hand that guided them and kept them safe. Few Inquisitors had seen this as clearly as Naamah. She remembered that the Ice Queen had been willing to give her life to protect her cubs from the ferocious Klaxxi.


Was it a surprise that Naamah idolised the woman? That she'd desperately craved her approval? The Clawdite, currently wearing the face of a Mirialan, had no doubt that if Mirien gave her an order, she'd obey without question. Would she resist if Mirien sought to end her?


The small squad of commandos made their way through the mud-covered and debris-filled alleyways, while a massive downpour was unleashed upon them from the heavens. At this point Naamah was thoroughly soaked by the rain, but she continued on stoically. The rain was cleansing, for it washed away blood, dirt and grime, purifying the exterior. Nothing could purify her inside other than a righteous death, but that was another matter. Transportation speeders, tanks and the roar of artillery fire generated a massive cacophony of sound that warred with the storm.


Finally they reached the loyalists' supply road. A new speeder truck past every few minutes. A heavily fortified gate impeded their progress. There were guards on patrol and some heavy weapons emplacements. Doubtless more lurked inside the dark maw.


The revelation that the commando leader had once been a loyalist left her cold. She was in no position to judge anyone. A frontal attack would lead to an alarm, and then they'd be turned into mincemeat. "What's the plan to get inside?" she queried. Grabbing a speeder sounded appealing.

 

[Jessica Med-Beq]

Location: Jabiim
Objective: Locate the derelict prison ship (bring-your-own)
Allies: SSC
Enemies: Lythians
Post: 14/25

Marcia was one to slice when Jessica just couldn't get the job done. She started working on breaching the defenses of the Lythians' computer systems with antique sockets that would be well-adapted to antiques of the era. Meanwhile, Jessica reads through the content of the first log as it is displayed on the screen. It looks as though some Lythians wanted the people who would try slicing through the equipment they left behind wanted to know why they were left behind, what they left behind and when did they come. On the holovid display the Design Triumvirate began to see the logs of the Lythian crew that once called the Tormentor's wreck home. But these weren't the flight logs they were looking for - or should they say, Marcia - Jessica and Charzon were too busy watching the green lines of text unfold before them, buying time for Marcia to work on the slicing of the devices. As Jessica and Charzon stand side-by-side, they read alout the journal entry dating from when the Lythians first came here. They all wanted a slice of the knowledge.

"Mine foreman journal, entry 42-84-F-3, dated early 822 ABY. Our first day here on Jabiim. Long have the mainstream mining companies lost interest in Jabiim. They have been exhausted by 137 ABY or so they say. But there are corners of the planet that were left untouched during the 400-year-long krach that the Gulag plague induced. I have to say that, even with the outer hull partially punctured and rusted away by the action of centuries of rain, this ship wreck is just what we need to avoid arousing suspicions from whichever factions may be controlling the planet"

"Holy cow! How could the Lythians remain undetected for so long?" Charzon asked.

"These motherkarkers have been operating under our very noses for the entire time?"

"But the tales of untold albeit low-concentration riches are precisely what brought us here"

 

[Bubák]

Jabiim Mission 3


“Ah.” She winced. It was strange to meet someone brave enough to admit their former allegiance with the enemy. The Chiss did not have the same power in her.

A situation similar to her own. Also a turncoat – albeit saying she had left the Jedi and then the Sith entirely on her own accord would be completely false. Whatever had forced the man to leave the government forces and join the rebels – Alaki refused to pry and refresh painful memories, knowing all too well what it meant to be constantly reminded of the past. With the young Padawan’s interest positively piqued by the Mirialan’s question, she listened instead, red stare fixed right at the leader’s face as he offered an answer that painted a frown over the fallen Jedi’s expression.

“We are going to get ourselves speeder.”


One spare officer uniform relieved from a fresh corpse and the small commando stood ready in a blind corner, awaiting the newest truck loaded with supplies to arrive. All speeders came and went in perfect intervals, giving the rebels a timed window of opportunity to ambush one, take over. Bobika’s chronometer started to count down the remaining time and direct all members into action as soon as the desired speeder turned up. A lone figure bearing the insignia of a loyalist officer came out of nowhere, almost ran over by the vehicle. While his furious rage showered the speeder’s crew in insults, other rebels took aim, weapons silenced, hands steady. The moment the driver left the safe confines of his vehicle, first shot dropped him dead. In that moment, the entire group swarmed the scene, dragging the dead away and permanently silencing the co-driver, but not before claiming two more uniforms.

Soon enough, three rebels found themselves squeezed inside heavy ammunition crates, hidden from prying eyes. The remaining two manned the vehicle, driving it towards the checkpoint. Nobody expected any ill this far from the front, indicated by the casual way the soldiers held their weapons and talked among themselves. This leniency played an important aspect in the daringly insane plan. When the vehicle stopped for a routine inspection, Alaki held her breath and closed her eyes, silently sitting through the insufferable waiting, concealed by a reinforced lid, only pitch black darkness as company. Only when she felt the vehicle’s engines fire up and the speeder moved, the girl let out several ecstatic moans of relief.


[member="Naamah Aesham"]

 

[Junko Ike]

Handooine
Open Objective
[member="Sabetha Tag"] [member="Audren Sykes"]
15/38

Junko moved and stayed with them, finding the place they were headed kind of interesting as she walked stopping when the men spoke to the two of them. She was wondering what her padawan was planning when she was moving with most of her attention on the area inside. She remained there looking at them but was focusing the white current for the two of them to see illusions. Her and her padawan were moving off to the side to try and go around while they wanted to distract them while leading them off so Junko and her padawan could go through the front door while she was letting the smokestone amplify her abilities while her hand remained back for her padawan motioning for her to be quiet when she was immersing them into the white current to conceal them from sight and the force with illusions roaming around to distract.

 

[Darth Caecus]

Handooine
Open Objective/Handooine Diplomacy
Junko Ike Audren Sykes
7

Sabetha watched, a little awed, as their doubles seemed to step directly out of themselves. It was a good thing her master had already explained and illustrated how the White Current worked- she might not have been able to keep completely quiet from the sheer surprise of watching an exact duplicate of herself step away from her body.

And start to SASS the guards.

"If we want to come in, you can't stop us," not-Sabetha said, her tone snotty. She stuck out her tongue at the guards. "We'll just go in the back door!"

Sabetha turned to look up at Junko, mouthing at her Is that what I sound like? ​Even as the guards started following the false pair. The two illusions picked up and ran, throwing insults back over their shoulder. Drawing blasters, the Trandoshan growled, taking off after them, his friend following close on his heels.

The pair waited until the guards were out of sight around the corner of the building before sidling up to the door. Sabetha pushed it open just a crack and peered inside. Her green eyes widened and she looked back at Junko, mouthing soundlessly again.

There's a lot of weapons in there.

 

[Darth Libertas]

(11)


The endless void of space was such a beautiful place. The void was potted with countless pinpoints of light that were distant stars, planets, and other celestial bodies of note. Wreckages of ships floated through the vast expanse, relics of long-forgotten battles. Perhaps some were so ancient that they'd seen action in the great Battle of Jabiim during the Clone Wars. The void was beautiful and serene.


A gateway to hyperspace opened and swallowed Sumiko's ship as it vacated the system. Perhaps Jabiim would be liberated from the iron grip of its tyrants, perhaps the not particularly crusading Coalition would bring peace, freedom, justice and security, though she doubted it. The former Inquisitor had a new destination in mind. Atrisia. The world whose regime had once treated her as a tool, a slave to the system. It was becoming time to return home...and clean house. Revenge was a dish best served cold.

 

[Naamah Aesham]

(12)
[member="Alaki"]


A moment of opportunity presented itself when a transportation speeder came their way. A spare officer's uniform was far too convenient an opportunity to pass up. "Don't freak out," Naamah said and then suddenly morphed, shifting her shape until she was the spitting image of the dead officer. His face was rather repulsive or maybe that was just due to the regime he served. The rebels did not seem too freaked out, so they probably knew what she was.


Then everything seemed to proceed in slow motion. The speeder's path was impeded by a loyalist officer almost getting run over and showering them with insulting expletives, and before the the soldiers knew what hit them, they'd been gunned down and slaughtered by the rebels. This had the benefit of providin the freedom fighters with uniforms, fresh ammunition and transport.


Naamah took position in front of the vehicle alongside the rebel leader. He was in charge, she was just there to help make the ruse look more convincing. Security was lax when the truck drove towards the checkpoint. The loyalist soldiers were evidently not expecting someone to be so brazen to attack. Or they were simply not particularly motivated because their pay was lousy.


Naamah exchanged some gruff words with the sergeant in charge of the checkpoint, being as impatient and overbearing as possible. Then they were finally let through and the speeder dashed away into the dark maw. They passed more patrols and convoys. Now it was a waiting game till they finally reached their target. If Naamah had been the religious type, now would have been a moment for prayer, but she did not believe and was certain her soul was too damned for any deities to take an interest in her fate.

 

[Jessica Med-Beq]

Location: Jabiim
Objective: Locate the derelict prison ship (bring-your-own)
Allies: SSC
Enemies: Lythians
Post: 15/25

"Low-concentration riches? Probably the result of historical over-mining"

"If I may, boss, the first batch of Lythians left Jabiim circa 137 ABY: the One Sith of that time were chasing them off the planet. I am sure these Lythians are different from the first batch"

"One Sith? What business did Darth Krayt or others from that time have to do with chasing Lythians away?"

"Second log entry coming up"

While Marcia was busy uploading the Lythian logs, she was a little concerned about finding the flight logs of the Tormentor - the One Sith may have wiped them out back in that day, the Lythians may have stolen them, some other party may have tampered them, but for some reason she couldn't quite locate the flight logs. Marcia was simply the girl that just worked the computers for her attempts at slicing, and the next journal entry intrigued the trio as to exactly what the Lythians mined in that area. She then proceeds to show the second log entry on the screen while looking for the flight logs in the computer:

"Mine foreman's journal, entry 47-115-F-3. Low-concentration riches? Tungsten, zirconium. They are both refractory elements. Still somewhat common but they had to be dug in deep. Corrosion-resistant materials often require zirconium; our main clients are industrial equipment manufacturers, while some of the ceramic kilns on the planet also use some of our zirconium. Five years in we mined about 4-6,000 tons of zirconium a year, but the mine covers dozens and dozens of kilometers of tunnels"

 

[Bubák]

Jabiim Mission 3


Bright, orange columns rhythmically followed by more sharply cut through the darkness and illuminated the speeder blindly driving underneath. The straight road ahead, the repetitive view, the constant exchange between light and darkness; it became a mesmerizing sight to witness after a while, giving the impression of infinity. Two pairs of eyes sitting in the driver’s cabin found their salvation in the occasional truck fleeing in the opposite direction – an arguable distraction, even the vehicles moved in perfectly timed intervals. Alaki did not see the rapidly flickering ceiling lights passing above the truck, for she had spent her journey entombed inside the half-emptied ammunition crate.

The pitch black night within her coffin gave birth to an absurd and inexplicable demand for sleep, rest – both strangely alien thoughts after today. It did not help she was comfortably curled up in a ball. The last remains of adrenaline running through the Chiss’ veins had been washed away by this sudden change of pace, all senses dulled and slow now. Without the ever-present threat keeping her focused, her glowing eyes shut closed for a second and opened almost immediately after, a blank stare into nothing in a vain attempt to stay awake. Not even the Padawan’s ears offered much help in this fight – everything outside of the container turned into muffled sounds that barely penetrated its thick plates. It became impossible to pinpoint the exact moment when she slipped into the merciful realm of dreams.

Disoriented, lost during the first few seconds after regaining consciousness, the Chiss was caught by surprise when the lid covering her body fell off with a thunderous racket, bathing the suddenly woken Jedi in blinding light. Panic filled her mind, hands went for the trusty weapons – no, she had not been discovered. Calming relief washed over her when she recognized the face of her rebel companion who no longer piloted the speeder. As the group slowly gathered their equipment, Alaki took note of two new carcasses beside the truck. Not only that – both wore a fitting explosive outfit as the rebels hid the bodies within the ammunition crates, ready to send them to their last journey.


[member="Naamah Aesham"]

 

[Naamah Aesham]

(13)


Naamah, currently wearing the face of the unfortunate officer, was quiet throughout the trip when the armoured vehicle drove through the almost pitch-black darkness. Often, its lights were the only source of illumination. The constant exchange between light and darkness reminded her a bit too much of the Netherworld. It took her a while to realise that she was nervously tapping her fingers, and put a stop to it. She did not want to think about Chaos now. At least there were no ethereal shapes and ghosts haunting her. Ceiling lights rapidly flickered past the transport as it made its way towards its destination.


Eventually, two soldiers stopped them, which meant they had to be close. A young soldier, with a blaster rifle slung over his shoulder, stepped forward. With an imperious gesture, the faux loyalist officer passed over the papers. "We've got shells for the artillery. They're waiting for us."


The somewhat intimidated soldier studied the papers, then saluted. "Everything's in order, sir. Just a moment, but I gotta check those ammo crates. It's a new order from above. There's concerns about dirty rebels," he said.


Naamah glowered at him. "Order from whom?" she snapped in a gruff, masculine voice. "Do you understand how important our artillery is? Without shells, it can't fire. The rebels are at the gates."


"I understand, sir, but I have my orders."


"Fine, but make it quick. We're on the clock here," as the two soldiers walked towards the back of the truck, two silenced shots ended their existence and produced two fresh corpses, the ones Alaki found out when she awoke and emerged from her claustophobic confinement. Both carcasses received their explosives and ended up in the ammo crates.


[member="Alaki"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

(14)


Space, the final frontier. It had never seemed so cold, heartless and frightening to Gerhard. The Zabrak was not a bad guy. Not at all. He wasn't the kind of slaver who derived a sick pleasure from beating and molesting slaves, though he didn't have the courage to step in either. Or seek a profession that was less morally reprehensible. But he'd fallen through the cracks! He was just as much victim and perpetrator in a broken Galaxy where the common man was caught in a game of thrones between Jedi, Sith and corporate magnates. At least that's he told himself.


Right now he was frightened. He did not know who the attackers who'd ambushed the pirate corvette were. They were too ruthless to be the Coalition or Jedi, but too well-equipped to be local rebels. Firemane? They did not use hordes of droids. All he knew was that they scared the crap out of him.


He hastened across the corridor, firing blaster bolts from his pistol. Skeletal battle droids advanced implacably. He heard a cry of pain when one of his comrades was struck by a beam emanating from a paddle beamer, paralysing his right leg. The pirate fell to the ground and tried to crawl. "Help me!" he begged pitifully, looking at Gerhard with a frightened expression.


Courage, loyalty and fear warred with one another. The Zabrak was moving towards him, but then turned tail and ran when he saw a blonde, statuesque woman with an emotionless face that was half burnt away, exposing metal grab a Trandoshan and toss him into a wall like a ragdoll. An explosion rocked the corridor when his abandoned comrade detonated a grenade.


Gerhard took another turn and leaned against a wall, taking a breath as he tried to calm his nerves. Light flickered above him, casting his frightened face into an eerie light. The hand that held his blaster was shaking. The ship was dead in the water, its engines having been disabled, but the escape pods were close. He just needed to avoid the death machines and then he'd be...Alas, he never got the chance to finish that thought.


For now she appeared. At least he was certain that the black-clad figure was human. Human. Medium height. Female. Long brown hair tied back into a severe ponytail...and that face. He knew it. Many a slaver did. Unlike many of his kind, he'd been fortunate enough to survive the slaughter on Zygerria.


He raised his blaster and fired. Flashes emanated from the muzzle of his gun when red-hot bolts exited, but they bounced off the woman's purple lightsabre and ricochetted across the walls. Then suddenly his hand felt numb when an invisible force induced paralysis and he dropped his weapon. "Kerrigan...mercy," he begged.


"No, not Kerrigan," the woman spoke in a cold, cruel voice. Then when he tried to run her blade sailed through the air and sliced across the back of his leg, bringing him down. "There is no escape. You will be upgraded and become part of Archangel. Resistance is futile."