Hey all, it's the sector pub crawl! [First Order T3 Dominion of New Balosar Hex]

[Pharazon Draken]

Location: Kaeshana, Ruins of Santassia
Objective: 4; A Promise Fulfilled, A Sacrifice Honoured
Post: 5

Exiting the transport swiftly and efficiently, Dagon scurried over to the medic and their emergency patient. Finding them exactly as the medic had described, Dagon swiftly checked the wounded man to see if there was anything else that needed to be addressed immediately. He was, however, satisfied to see that this medic had done seemingly all necessary steps to keep the man alive so far. Dagon merely checked that his airways were still clear, applied bacta wherever he could, hooked him up to portable fluid and other essential devices, and set about examining him more generally.

“Well done Sergeant, admirable work, you seem to have addressed everything efficiently” Dagon began, not looking at the man as he continued to work.

“We can treat his external injuries simply enough I suspect, though the glass in his eye and his facial burns may make removing his helmet difficult, perhaps inadvisable until we can get him to a medical centre” he continued.

“However… I am worried about the effects of his life support being damaged for this long and with the extent of his injuries, as I suspect the blaster wound to his back has extensively internally damaged his entire chest having gone through the life support unit completely and still on into his body” he said, finishing up from treating and filling the wounds in his armour with bacta and other trauma treatments.

“I fear that the materials in the atmosphere, not to mention the radiation and other hazardous chemicals and materials everywhere, in addition to the contaminated nature of the entire planet, and given how long he had been here may have done extensive internal damage to his organs, nerves, brain functions… if that is even the full extent of it” he said, turning to the medic, voice softening and growing more familiar, this medic had impressed him, so he was willing to change his behaviour accordingly.

“I don’t know how much more we can do for him here beyond treating his facial injuries and addressing his back blaster wound, I would suggest we immediately evac him to one of the centres on the outskirts of the ruins, as given our increased precence I do not believe we will be forced to rush to the southern hemisphere unlike during the battle” he said, rising and moving to one end of the stretcher as his voice betrayed his memories and experiences of being forced to do exactly that to attempt to save the wounded of his company.

He also signalled to Sergeant Hydros and his men who had fanned out, who then returned to the transport to make way for the injured man and ensure that once he had been loaded he could be secured safely. Gesturing to the man, Dagon said with a hint of urgency, “We should move him now and treat anything we can during the journey, assist me in lifting him, I give you the discretion to accompany me or stay here but choose quickly and help me get him secured regardless” Dagon ordered calmly, fully immersed in what must be done now if worried about the things he could not see or treat immediately.

[member="Davin Jusik"]

 

[Ishana Pavanos]

"Kaalia," Ishana remarked and then chuckled a bit at the question, she watched money get thrown in and decided to chance her luck and pushed her share. "I, might be..." Her voice trailed as she added to the pot. "Nevermind who I might be - just know that I'm usually around." She dodged the question about as fast as a double ace dodges missiles. "Part of the Starfighter Corps, like I said, I'm around - call."

The men around the table looked at each other, "c'mon boys put'em down." And a look over at the redhead, redheads - sheesh. They were going to be the end of her, was Ashta a redhead? Maybe? She'd have to check the picture again. Ishana placed her cards down and noticed someone's sleeve. "Hey, you packin' king?"

"Uhwuh?"

"Don't think I don't see that little niblet in there."

Another man grabbed his arm, "you cheatin' scum!"

Ishana looked at another man, "hey you know I think he was throwin the cards around."

"I think so too, thanks little lady." He stood on his feet, and this man looked about 7'2" easy or maybe it was the alcohol talking. Ishana looked at this man and wondered if this was one of the pirate guys from that one time she tried to help the One Sith dominion some backwater lava planet. "Hey you look- you know what, nevermind."

Tall, broad shoulders with a mean scar that third guy pushed through the chairs and grabbed the cheater by the coat. Cards flushed out of the man's coat and onto the floor. Ishana's eyes went wide, "wow." She mouthed and then looked at the money on the table. Clearing her throat she crossed to the table, when that mean guy turned around. "Yer that girlie from Bassahdro."

Ishana cleared her throat, "well now - I um, mhmmm Bassadro."

"Bassadro?" Another rose from the table.

"Chit tickets." Ishana remarked, grabbed what money she could and darted for Kaalia, "fellas, fellas listen I know Bassadro brings up a lot of bad memories, but would you really hurt a girl and her wife?"

"You see, my wife is ill and -"

The seven foot two guy quirked a brow, "yer wife, eh?"

"Isn't that right schnookums?" Ishana asked of the redhead, putting an arm around her and planting a kiss on the woman's lips. "She's a doll." Looked back at the guy who rolled up his sleeve. "Oh you're not buyin' right, well."

The pilot grabbed a drink, took it like a shot, planted another kiss on Kaalia for good measure. "Boys, as I mentioned on Bassadro..."

"This is the night that you almost caught, Captain Pavanos."

"Kaalia, you're a sweetheart - hang on to your girl before that guy steals her away!" Ishana ducked underneath the big guy's swing and leapt toward the table. Jumped to another and dove down heading for the exit as the club began to call for security forces. As the men began to brawl with each other over the game and then chase after the fighter pilot.

[member="Kaalia Voldaren"] | [member="Ara Ren"] | [member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Lydia Finn-Camden"]

 

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Chalcedon
Objective: 3
With: [member="Mishel Ren"], the wasted disciple
Post: 12


A powerful signature pierced the Force, alerting the young Force sensitive to a new arrival. Zmej froze mid-motion, unsure of what to do. Was it one of their own? She hadn’t been informed of another Ren’s presence, and yet the signature felt distinctly familiar. What did they want, though? Everything’s been handled except for the soldiers putting the finishing touch to the mission. There was no need for additional reinforcements, thus the only possibility her train of thought came up with was that the newcomer carried new orders. The blonde disciple made her way through the eerily silent compound, following the trail imprinted in the Force. Creaks of rusted metal occasionally added to the thuds of armoured boots marching through.

Instead of meeting the signature’s owner, a garbage shuttle silently sat in the docking bay, taking care of the station’s filth. Interestingly enough, the strong presence originated from within. Nobody walked out, no soldiers or Ren. Long and powerful strides brought Zmej closer, enough to allow a glance into what the shuttle contained. Peeking in, the armoured figure finally spotted the source of the disturbance. Among the garbage, a sleeping princess – none other than [member="Mishel Ren"]. A most unexpected discovery. Staring at it in disbelief, the dark disciple did not know whether to burst out laughing or address the sleeping Ren. Unwilling to let the former ruin her perpetually serious demeanour, yet incapable of the latter, sarcasm became a valid option.

“Arriving with the trash – I must applaud your creativity, sister,” Zmej’s monotone, synthesized voice stated before the mask covering her face retracted, showing the young blonde’s grin. Among the stench of garbage lingered a different whiff, one strongly indicative of alcohol, a tell-tale sign Zmej dismissed as another stink of junk, completely oblivious the woman was simply drunk. For a moment, the pale blonde mentally reconstructed Mishel’s journey - indeed, infiltrating the base through garbage, an original plan. No other possibility came to mind, though the brunette’s strange state spoke against such scenario.

“Here. Grab my hand.” The disciple’s voice suggested while she offered a gauntleted hand to help Mishel get out of the trash.

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Chalcedon.

When Mishel fell into the shuttle, she was certain she let go of anything that was coming up and out of her. Soon after the shuttle chartered off and the vibrations of the shuttle sent her into a deep slumber. At least until heard the sounds of it backing up, and opening its arms to pull at the rubbish. Mishel didn't think too much of it, her body yearned for sleep. And then she heard a voice and felt through the force a familiar presence, [member="Zmej Ren"]. Yet the voice sounded so loud, "loud sestir no." She grumbled in her incoherent state. Her eyes didn't want to open but she forced them to anyway, just to see where she was.

She saw a hand, a pale hand from the pale, blonde ren. Mishel took the hand and got up out of the garbage. Opening her eyes wide her senses were assaulted by sight, smell and sound. Hands to her ears first, then to her nose and mouth as she ran around the shuttle and gave up the last of her innards. Hot, she was feeling hot so she threw off her jacket, the itchy jacket [member="Samka Derith"] had made her wear. And then once again she was hurling up whatever contents her stomach could vacate.

 

[Darth Metus]

"That tears it, we need a new ship."

The Behemoth was heralded by his frustration prior to entering the Jumping Rocket. Whilst still a few paces out, he vented his aggravations upon the ears of his faithful subordinate Striok. Together, the two Ma'alkerrites strode boldly forth into the local watering hole; which just so happened to be one of the stops in the glorious pub crawl. Of course, by now both Malok and his companion should have been well sauced...but their bucket of bolts had different plans. A basic, class two hyperdrive would have gotten them from point a to b in a respectable time. A military grade would have done the job even faster. But their pile of garbage had taken so long that the party had moved on.

So they played catch up. For hours.

Finally it seemed the two had managed to find the latest stop of the pub crawl; and by now Malok was through. He was tired of faulty navicomputers and slow hyperdrives. He was done with their transportation woes. It didn't matter if he had to be broke for the next decade, this was the last time he traveled in squalor. "Lease we'r hur Commanda." grunted Striok, who was delighted at the opportunity to drink. Together they thundered into the Jumping Rocket and took a look about. The biggest fan of [member="Connor Harrison"] abandoned his superior at once, finding an isolated stool so that he could drink in peace.

As for Malok, it was time to pay his respects.

As quietly as a Behemoth could, he stepped over to the Destroyer himself. His head was bowed, his tone was appropriate. "Greetings, Master. I trust you've been well." were the words chosen. He then turned his attention to the gem accompanying him - the medical angel that had saved his life months prior. To her was given a genuine, toothy grin. "Doctor Ven! Always good to see you." he began, clasping his hands together. "And might I add you look lovely."

[member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Irajah Ven"]​

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Kaeshana
Objective: Rebuild the Kaeshana spaceport
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Post: 20/38

How could Frank be able to know whether the dry duracrete in the silo would last five days? However, five days' notice did take into account that duracrete took some time to be prepared in quantities that are useful to get a few kilometers of highway finished once construction has started: did Frank have to deal with that problem when expanding the Seventh Heaven resort on Lanteeb? Then again, she estimated that any extra amounts of dry duracrete required would be at most about 20,000 cubic meters. Not wanting to deal with the drama of cost overruns, Dunames would rather leave that to the architect of record or the general contractor. Hoth was their first experience as an "owner-builder", and it allowed them to build their expertise to other areas of construction. But then the spectacle of the duracrete being poured in squares of roughly 2.5 meters across, with the drainage system as the sides of the squares, continued right when the sensor systems and tactical display arrived on-site so that the control tower can be built.

"We have now begun the construction of the control tower"

"Any idea when the control tower can be completed?"

"Two weeks perhaps"

 

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Chalcedon
Objective: 3
Post: 13
[member="Mishel Ren"], the ultimate vomit machine


Mishel didn’t look good. Something wrong was going on with her body. From the young disciple’s speech pattern to the overwhelming stench of alcohol coming off her, she appeared to be in dire need of help.

“Are you alright?”

There was genuine concern in the blonde’s voice. Up to that point, she had zero idea of what could have possibly happened to the trained disciple of Ren. Right until the unthinkable started happening and Mishel threw up. Zmej was glad the wild shot had missed her. The demeaning display soon turned into an impressive proof of how much a human stomach could contain. Wave after wave, a seemingly endless flow of vomit shot from the disciple of Ren and Zmej knew better than to stand around.

Very embarassing. Hopefully nobody else saw that.

Swiftly putting the mask back on, the armoured disciple opted for a retreat, just far enough to observe her sister from safe distance. Worries swiftly dissipated when Mishel tossed out another rainbow, desecrating the garbage shuttle. Although still very oblivious of the brunette’s arrival and the exact circumstances, it became obvious hangover knocked on the door and demanded entry no matter what.

How did the Ren manage to get this drunk? And why? Saving the important questions for until Mishel’s state got better and she could actually answer without suffering, Zmej gave her sister a hard stare, although not as pronounced due to the mask’s expressionless look.

“Should I call a medic?”

 

[Samka Derith]

'Well this is ridiculous' Samka thought to herself as [member="Mishel Ren"] slurred and staggered her way around. She caught hold of Mishel's hand but stood stiffly straight as the dark haired girl swayed around her.

"Wan-want to shance witch you."

​"You want to... sandwich me?" Sam frowned and continued to steady the girl. "Come on now, speak clearer." It was then that the other Ren disappeared in the direction of the bathroom promising to return soon enough. Sam nodded and let her take her leave, blissfully unaware of what was to become of Mishel.

Her attention turned to the others around. First to the other Ren, [member="Kaalia Voldaren"] and [member="Ara Ren"]. Sam sighed, Ara was being her usual provocative self while Kaalia was looking charmed by another woman. Still in the midst of drinking and gambling as well. She had a half a mind to go over and scold the pair again but taking care of just Mishel was exhausting. Over at the bar she noticed [member="Rolf Amsel"] speaking to the reporter woman from Kaeshana. The two were sharing drinks though in her eyes the officer looked rather... mischievous. Given that her relationship with the man was not exactly friendly at this point, the last time they met she'd choked him out in the middle of a warzone, she decided against going to speak with him. Finally there was [member="Irajah Ven"] who had followed them to the Jumping Rocket along with her unexpected companion for the evening, [member="Darth Prazutis"]. The doctor was being awfully... touchy with the Sith Lord who in turn looked comfortable with the drunken attention. She considered going to say hello when a third figure entered their conversation. Sam supposed it was unwise to get too distracted from her duty over Mishel for the evening so contented herself with a small wave in the doctor's direction. It wasn't exactly out of character for Cassidy to be too shy to say hello to someone flanked by a Sith Lord Prince almost 3 foot taller than her and a rough looking simian alien who was over 3 feet taller.

Thinking of her duties, Samka's head turned side to side, where was Mishel?

She had a bad feeling about this.

 

[Ara Zambrano]

Objective: 1
Post: 8

Ara was halfway towards the dancing form of [member="Rexus Wenck"] when the sounds of raised voices coming from the table she'd just vacated grabbed her attention. She ignored the shouted thanks from [member="Mishel Ren"] and spun, eyebrows raised skyward as she took in the scene. The dark haired woman planted a kiss straight on [member="Kaalia Voldaren"]'s lips, followed by an impressive dive over two gambling tables, towards the exit.

She tilted her head as hits were exchanged, her grin growing, tinged with a bit of appreciation. In a matter of moments, the gambling had dissolved into a full-on brawl, it was better than even she could have managed. As the club began to call for security forces, Ara tried catching the eye of [member="Samka Derith"], oddly unaccompanied by her young friend at the moment.

Raising an eyebrow in question at the Knight, did they stay and break up the fight or get away without the attention of the authorities, the Disciple's mind was made up for her. One of the drunken men took a swing at the red-head still stunned from the escalation of events.

Turning on her heel, she raised a hand and let the wash of anger fuel her connection with the force. Before his fist could connect, the man found himself flying backwards, crashing into a chair and flipping over it, a very angry Disciple of Ren stalking towards him.

"Hasn't anyone ever taught you that it is rude to hit a woman?"

[member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Ishana Pavanos"]

 

[Sara Lee Jones]

[member="Aran Piett"]
Post 4
Patrol

She watched the shuttle link up and bolt squadron started moving around the cruiser again, Sara was waiting a tense moment, patrols like these were always so tense you didn't k ow what was going on on their...crew fighting back? Troopers captured?

She closed her eyes and nodded to herself as she listened in to the comms and gave the order to head back to the ship, shr felt proud as she looked back at her fighters, she was proud of her crew she had brought

Her crew landed gently and hooked up as she unclipped the helmet and got out crawling up the ladder then down as she took her helmet off

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Kaeshana
Objective: Rebuild the Kaeshana spaceport
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Post: 21/38

Two weeks may be a little... slow; perhaps in two weeks' time, the whole terminal can be completed, alongside the tarmac, with the construction crews at hand, many of whom are convicts, who have arrived using an AT-AT barge filled to the brim with passengers. And also the spaceport parking. By that time, if there is still a lack of duracrete, them Dunames will have the leisure to order some more, and to finish the spaceport within a month of the date the work on it began. Same goes for the rebar. Rebar, oh rebar, when it is necessary for the control tower and the terminal: hopefully there is no need for too many extras here. Sure, using convict labor is good only for the unskilled part of the workforce, but, as a measure of courtesy, the chief warden assigned to the batch of prisoners has approached Dunames over comms, before the ship used for ferrying the duracrete departs Kaeshana for another cargo voyage:

"Hailing frequencies open" Merrily told the others in the foreman's station.

"The convicts have arrived" the chief warden told Dunames over comms.

"How many convicts are there?"

"460 convicts. Please take good care of them until the projects ends"

 

[Arlen Rossi]

Location: Kaeshana, Night
Objective: Hunting (Unit Development, BYOO)
1/38

By day, the First Order and its associates worked hard to rebuild the broken planet, but by night, they worked equally as hard to purge it of the last vestiges of resistance to their efforts. It could be said that the job of the Security Bureau and the Interior Ministry had only truly began after the First Order had given the boot to Galactic Alliance and the Tygarans as their focus now shifted to bringing order to world that had known none for the better part of a generation.

Arlen stuck around, her mission profile changing from psychological operations and population control to more offensive counter-terror ops. Just about every night, it was a raid here, or an interrogation session there, something was always going on. The Sith loved every moment of it, dueling often against hostile Ashiran Cultists, by far some of the fiercest opposition remaining on the planet. Who she did not kill, she would capture for reeducation. If their skills as Force Adepts could be channeled for use by the First Order, then that would result in a great boost to the war effort as the FO was still hurting for Force Sensitive operatives.

A few of the less fanatical and disillusioned cultists she encountered didn't need much convincing after she set them straight. The FO was now in charge and fixing up Kaeshana, and they could either be a part of that or perish. Her ranks would gradually begin to grow with flipped warriors and informants, making successive operations run all the more smoother as the FOSB was fed all the details about the inner workings of what remained of local society.

She worked this knowledge to her advantage, like exploiting the discontent of much of the male populace in an oppressive matriarchal species, or the general resentment towards those who still clung to power after their failure to save Kaeshana from destruction. Those resistance leaders who had also sided with off-worlder Tygaran insurgents who had originally abandoned the planet were also prime targets for smear campaigns to shatter what remained of their already diminished reputations.

Left and right, resistance would begin to fall, until only a few pockets of opposition remained, holed up in well hidden mountain strongholds. This night, she moved against them all at once in one large operation that she expected would be the last of its kind on Kaeshana. Under the cover of night and mountain mists, FOSB commandos quietly inserted by repulsor packs. Slowly, they moved in position for infiltration. Their black reflec armor helped them blend in well against the terrain, while training in Teräs Käsi kept their minds closed to detection by any hostile Force Adepts that may be with the resistance. Among the commandos were a few former cultists acting as guides.

After about the better part of the hour, units across the mountain ranges were in position for the assault. Scoping out one of the entrances with her inbuilt macro-binoculars, she detected lifesigns moving all about through passive sensors. The information had indeed been good, but she had little doubt about her informants' credibility. Like any good interrogator, she knew how to make a proper songbird out her targets.

 

[Valae Heavenshield]

Location: Jumping Rocket
Objective: 1, Pub Crawl
Post: 5

Delilah waved at the barman just after [member="Daska Tess"] placed her order, and she asked for a plate of potato skins as well. She figured that it might be a good thing to pace herself, especially if they had a few more stops to make after this. Glancing to the side, she giggled at Daska’s comment about extra PT. She nodded along, even though she had no intentions of doing so for her own good. Delilah just was not athletically inclined. If anything, she would be starting the next morning with a heaping helping of breakfast to fight off a hangover.

“I’m sure it’ll be worth it!” She said with a nod, and took a sip from her straw.

Her eyes went wide, the drink was very sweet. Del could barely taste the alcohol, but she knew it was there – this was the dangerous sort of drink. But she had to admit, it was pretty darn tasty. It wasn’t long before their plates were set before them. Del looked down in wonder at the steaming plate of greasy goodness; the potato skins had been covered with melty cheese and bits of salty meat. It was just the right kind of meal, and she didn’t hesitate to take a bite as she pondered Daska’s question.

“Down time?” She asked between bites, and covered her mouth as she chewed. Sure, she probably could have had more down time if she wished, but she felt more useful when she was working. And when she wasn’t working, she was probably eating or sleeping. “I like to keep myself busy, but it doesn’t leave much free time. I suppose it would be a good thing though, breaks are good, right?”

Delilah chuckled to keep the mood light, and she took another sip of her drink.

“What about you? I can’t imagine the stress in your line of work. I keep the crafts operating, but I never fly.”

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Lydia looked at Major Amsel in silence for a few long moments, her eyes darting the way they did when they focused first on the other person's left eye, then their right. The question hung in the air between them for a few moments before she looked down into her drink. Why was she here, after all? It was a complicated answer to a question that was, after all, relatively simple. In the time since Kaeshana, she had found herself increasingly challenged to cope with what she had seen and experienced. She shrugged her delicate shoulders and pushed her hair off her shoulder. "Couldn't spend another night in my apartment, hiding from terrorists and killers," she said faintly, her blue eyes peeking out from under her lashes before lifting her drink to her lips and taking a healthy swig.

The whiskey burned like petrol down the back of her throat and she shuddered violently, then half-turned on her bar-stool so she could watch the proceedings, but caught the movement of [member="Irajah Ven"] out of the corner of her eye. She smiled shyly and returned the wave before turning back to [member="Rexus Wenck"] and his antics for a few moments, before her eyes sort of glazed over.

Since Kaeshana she had watched the coverage incessantly -- steering clear of her brother's network to avoid the sensationalized coverage of her own recordings, which had been broadcast and rebroadcast in the days following the battle. She watched the remains of stormtroopers and pilots, relief workers and scientists being offloaded at the spaceport in Avalonia. The media covered it, the solemn ceremonies involving caskets covered in the First Order flag. All the people who volunteered for active service, who died or were injured at Kaeshana, and here she was.

"No," she said quietly over her shoulder to [member="Rolf Amsel"]. "That's not why. Not... all of it, anyway." She paused and swirled her drink around its glass. "All those men -- I didn't know a thing about them. I felt like I owed it to -- whoever, fate I guess -- to get to know them. And you. Someone should tell their stories -- don't worry, not tonight, but I mean, generally. They can't just be white helmets somewhere. They're people. I'm embarrassed to say that I didn't fully understand that before Kaeshana." She studied [member="Rexus Wenck"]. "No chance of that now," she said with a smirk.

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

Post: 7
Objective: 1

When [member="Ishana Pavanos"] caught the man next to her cheating, things escalated quickly. It seemed the woman had a history with the others, and after she mentioned something about Bassadro and Kaalia and this woman being married, the redhead felt an arm around her followed by a kiss on the lips. She was stunned, dumbfounded by the absurdity of the situation. It became clear the men at the table weren't buying her story, and another surprise kiss later Kaalia watched her leap over the table and run for the exit. "It seems we'll have to make do with you, then." one of them said, leaving her no choice but to react to an incoming punch. Drawing from the Force around her, she pushed the man back, looking to create space to get out of the brawl. Another man saw Kaalia as an easy target, but before she could do anything about him he flew back. [member="Ara Ren"] had returned to the table, ready to join the brawl. Kaalia had other plans, however.

"I'd love to stick around and teach them a lesson, but that woman owes me some answers. I'll see you at the next stop!" she yelled at Ara as she lept over the table herself, making a break for the exit. The black-haired woman piqued her interest, and there was only one way to find out why that was. Kaalia quickly looked around as she left the building behind her, and seeing the woman that just kissed her moments ago, still running, she gathered the Force once again, this time to augment her speed as she looked to catch up with the woman who called herself Captain Pavanos. "Hey, wait!" could be heard from the redhead's direction as she passed the other woman's pursuers and gave them small nudges with the Force, causing them to lose balance and trip one by one. "You got me into this mess, you're getting me out of it too!"

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Kaeshana
Objective: Rebuild the Kaeshana spaceport
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Post: 22/38

With 460 convicts and 55 guards, Dunames had some sizeable reinforcements for the unskilled part of the work, thus freeing up the skilled labor for other tasks. But it was soon found out that the unskilled part of the work was actually not the bottleneck of the construction site. Oh, sure, it might have been wise not to buy all the duracrete at once but the residual volume required to finish the work is estimated to be around 10,000 cubic meters or so. And the crewmembers keep thinking that it will be all worth it in the end for the residents of Kaeshana, oh, well, what's left of those. There had to be some local road to connect any peripheral road near the spaceport, albeit not a two-lane road; even so it would mean that the resulting roads would still have to be 28 cm thick despite it being half the width (1 lane in each direction as opposed to 2). Dunames learned a lot about the actual management of public works projects while on Kaeshana, but then again, public works are part of the less glamorous projects in wartime.

"We need a few vending machines"

"Frank? From whom can we buy vending machines?"

"I'm afraid our contract forces us to use FOCIE for that"

"The First Order Corps of Imperial Engineers? They are focused on the design of combat vehicles and ships"

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Regret. Mishel was starting to be filled with regret, she gave [member="Zmej Ren"] a thumbs up as she shed her shirt. Leaving the younger Ren in nothing but a black tank top - something that resembled work pants and boots. The girl flipped her hair into a very loose ponytail, and cracked a few joints to loosen them up. "Fine, fine me, uh - I uh." She looked back at the pile of slop and didn't even shy away as she pointed to it. "Whiskey, beer, food," and then gestured toward the shuttle, "fell." Getting a whiff of her own scent she gagged and made a face, "shower." She needed a shower and wondered where she was exactly. "Am I? Where I am?" Vocabulary still jarred as she took three steps toward Zmej. She put a hand in the air and heard music coming from somewhere in the facility. "Music. Sam likes music!" She said excitedly grabbing her sister by the hand. (Or at least attempted to)

Mishel pulled the blonde (so she hoped it was the blonde) with her as she made it for a lift that somehow existed between rock and rocks that were not so stable. The Cormorant wasn't even really a facility, it was something that sat at a crossroads. A focal point for all recreation but the closer they got, the easier it was to hear music, yelling and other sounds - some savoury, others not so savoury. The lift opened near the billeting area and came to meet Cormorant, a seedy place where shadows lurked and illicit sales went down unnoticed. It made places like Nar Shaddaa seem quaint, but then Mishel had never been to Nar Shaddaa and she was only eager to find more music. Still recovering from her little drinking splurge, Mishel fumbled with her footing and bumped into a man who then ended up nudging into someone else.

She stopped to notice a sign, and as she did so - her scent caught up with her. Mishel became something of a diving mark as people went around her. Sounds she had not heard before intrigued her and so she made her way through the crowd. People of all kinds, aliens, humans, and everything in between crowded this place. Mishel grabbed a drink from someone's hand as they looked as if they were holding it out to her. Glupping it down she made a face and threw the bottle over her shoulder, not noticing that it hit someone. [member="Torian Pierce"] happened to be there at a gambling table, and while she had never met the man personally Mishel was curious at the game. Elevated platforms around them with pretty lady dancers caught the Ren's attention she stood up and looked up at a Twi'lek. Her eyes wandered up and down, walking toward the caged woman as scantily clad women walked around from one area that looked to be something of a VIP section down to the floor where she was. Swallowing hard, the girl wanted to suppress any feelings that were starting rise up within her. It was only now that she had realised she lost sight of Zmej, and without Sister [member="Samka Derith"] or any of the other ren. She panicked and stumbled backwards hitting a man at the table who then released from his grip, loaded dice. And coming down this way was a set of angry fellows who demanded to know who was throwing around beer bottles. Mishel who had grabbed yet another bottle drank her beer and then tossed it forward her judgment having seemingly been compromised on the evening. "He it did!" She sidestepped pointing to the guy she bumped into.

​

 

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Chalcedon
Objective: 3
Post: 14
[member="Mishel Ren"], the ultimate vomit machine


“You are drunk.”

A simple statement that said all it needed, spiced up by Zmej's displeasure at seeing a fellow Ren like this. The same went for Mishel’s remarks about her current state. Indeed, the brunette needed a shower – and probably many, many hours to sober up. Before the armoured blonde could drag her intoxicated sister and deliver a throughout scolding for her improper behaviour – who would ever choose a party over impressing the Supreme Leader through accomplishments, anyway? – the exact opposite happened. Suddenly pulled by Mishel, Zmej found herself in a turbolift leading down. Unable to voice her protests and resist before the door shut closed, the two Ren made their way down, unleashed into a seedy place where Zmej’s battle armour stood out like a sore thumb. At least the stench of sweat, smoke and alcohol did not enter the sealed suit in its fullest, alongside the loud music that got filtered.

While the perpetrator vanished among the many sentients, Zmej remained standing by the turbolift, completely out of her element. Several pairs of eyes turned her way, but the disciple of Ren was already telekinetically pressing the button to summon the lift back down. A statue, the young teenager faced the seedy establishment, watching its patrons through her helmet and silently cursing Mishel. There was work to be done still – Zmej needed to get back and finish what she started, yet the cursed turbolift refused to descend and free her from this purgatory. Even the Force spoke of excitement, lust, intoxication, fun – all of those seeped into the flowing currents and irritated the blonde teenager with their sensations brushing against her mind. Did anyone expect her participate? The thought itself seemed infinitely alien - especially since the blonde's irritation started to reach dangerous levels. Were the other Ren really getting drunk, partying while she risked her life to exterminate slavery from this system?

She'd have none of it.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Kaeshana
Objective: Rebuild the Kaeshana spaceport
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Post: 23/38

"I'm sorry, but the FOCIE doesn't sell vending machines"

"The FOCIE doesn't make vending machines? I'm sure there has to be someone else building vending machines"

"I believe Tagge Corp sells those"

"All right, I'll order some vending machines from Tagge Corp"

Vending machines? Probably no more than five or six in this spaceport: Dunames doesn't expect this spaceport to be seeing that much traffic, so that was about right. These were perhaps a little expensive, but the costs for the spaceport construction were quickly mounting: 20,000 credits for the vending machines, 125,000 for the traffic control equipment, and so on, so forth. Dunames was a little flabbergasted when all the bills of the spaceport's construction are to be put together. She was willing to help the First Order out, but at what cost? Will the Kaeshana spaceport ever pay for itself? That question lied heavy on her conscience, where the works were too advanced to be willing to pull the plug on them just yet. The slender Polydroxol was beginning to wonder how much of a penalty she would be assessed for the cost overruns she was at risk of incurring. Because she accepted that, while cost overruns were not the most concerning here (it wasn't anywhere close to white elephant-caliber), they were still part of the game.

 

[Davin Jusik]

[member="Pharazon Draken"]
Location: Ruins
Objective: 4
Post: 4

"Agreed sir. Tagging along." Davin replied as he began to shift the patient's body. After stabilizing anything left to be dine with the level of injury sustained were beyond the pair's limited tools.

Davin and Dagon moved the wounded man as carefully as they could onto the field stretcher and then to the waiting skiff. Being this was not his unit and the fact that he was given the very rare opportunity to see the entire process for one patient, Davin took the offer. He signed off with the squad he'd been thrown with and boarded the skiff.

The Lieutenant, now opposite him had in the tiny span of moments they'd been in the others company shown himself to be probably capable. From the slight tone shift in the man's voice Davin figured he'd made a similar impression. From their armor, the others onboard had seen the devastation as it had happened. He wondered how long they'd been awake.