Public Humble Origins

[Vano Roronova]

Nar Kreeta, The Slave Markets

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"Name?" Asked the bored receptionist - a yellow-skinned twi'lek who was painting her nails green.

"Roronova. Vano." Vano replied dully, if somewhat impatiently.

"Identification." She replied, distracted, her head tails twitching as she carefully painted her index finger.

In response, Vano rolled up his left sleeve, exposing the electro-tattoo barcode on his left wrist. Just below it was a small scar and a barely noticeable lump - a small pellet full of poison was embedded there, just in case he got any ideas. Just in case he got out of line.

"Oh." The twi'lek seemed to perk up a little, eyeing Vano with a passing interest. He knew what she would see; dirty boots, dirty pants, dirty shirt, dirty face, dirty hair. When one was a slave, everything was dirty it seemed; what was the point cleaning up? There wasn't anyone to impress. "Ohhh. You're Chev." The twi'lek said after a long moment, after studying his face. She tittered in an absent-minded way, scanning his arm with a small scanner.

"Yes. I'm Chev." Affirmed Vano, his mouth tightening into a firm line. As her datascreen beeped, Vano knew what she would see. The gnarled pachydermoid visage of Reseros Sen, Vano's Chevin slave master, Vano's serial code (110347), and his technical expertise, permissions, and allowances - per the wishes of his owner. The barcode didn't bother him anymore. More, her comment bothered him - that because he was Chev, that it explained why he was here on this hell hole, that because he was Chev, that he was obviously a slave. Never mind that his species had been liberated from their cruel masters.

"Says here you're cleared to tech level five? Wow, you must be really smart." She said, entering his information into her computer system. "Most slaves I know are miners here."

"Chevin educate their slaves. The ones with potential are even sent to local schools and universities. The better to make a profit." Explained Vano, patiently, his tones clipped. He wasn't trying to be rude - the woman was likely a slave herself - but how did one explain that, even though he was far smarter than his master, he was still beholden to him? In some ways he envied other slaves. They could be blissful in their ignorance, struggling vainly against their masters, always hopeful that they could somehow get free. Vano, in comparison, knew just how futile it was. How the system was built on every level to break, contain, and indoctrinate slaves from the day they were born, to the day they died.

"Wooow..." The twi'lek drawled, her eyes going distant. "Going to school. I can't imagine. Most I ever got was a two month course as a receptionist." Her eyes focused, and she laughed wryly, finishing up her data entry. "Ok. Looks like you're good to go. You're running sensor analysis for quarry four. Up the stairs, to the left." She said, nodding behind her. "Don't be a stranger." She said suggestively, offering a wink.

Vano, for his part, nodded curtly, before walking to the stairs. He ignored the woman's advances - slaves like her often seemed to think he was a premium item. Did they not understand the futility of that? Were they so broken that they wanted another slave for a mate? As if their breeding wasn't controlled every second of every day. As if it would even be allowed. His scar on his arm burned - the bump reminding him that his vitals were always being recorded, always transmitted. What he ate, when he ate. When he breathed, if he breathed. Where he went, how fast he went. All was monitored.

Up the stairs and to the left, he entered a cramped room that was dominated by a transparisteel window that surrounded the room. It was quite similar to a traffic control tower; only this tower looked out across a broad expanse of flat ground full of holes and machinery - mines - attended to by several hundred slaves who were bound together by lengths of chains. Ringing the room were small work stations, dominated by a central pit boss.

“110347?” Asked the pit boss, a grizzled looking Nikto who chewed some kind of black substance as he spoke.

“Reporting.” Nodded Vano, already moving towards an empty work station.

The pit boss looked torn between beating Vano (who had moved to a station without permission) and to getting back to work. He, thankfully, chose to get back to work. “You’re on sensor duty.”

Equipment used here at the mines was often basic, cheap, and expendable; this extended to the sensors as well. While the sensors themselves worked just fine, the software used to interpret the signals was lackluster, and Vano, due to his education, could translate the different readings into various ores, metals, and other geographic phenomena. Hence he was being rented out to this particular quarry.

For his part, Vano looked nonplussed and unimpressed at the setup. Basic computer screens, basic technology - it looked easily fifty years old. The tower they were in wasn't air-conditioned and was hot and musty. Not to mention it reeked of the black chewing substance the Nikto was gnawing on; a musky, oily, licorice smell. With a sigh, Vano got to work. The crews would go in, stab sensor posts into the earth, and Vano would list off results. Bauxite. Hematite. Galena. Zinc. Lead. Copper.

It would be a long day.

Spoiler

Hi all! Public thread, trying to keep it small (1-3 other posters beside myself). Feel free to jump in; this is more or less Vano's escape from Nar Kreeta and origin story, so feel free to try and rescue him, or to stop him; just know I intend for him to get off the planet one way or another, so he can start threading proper.

 

[Gotz Redwall]

"It is my great pleasure to welcome you to our humble world Mister Redwall," the Muun offered Gotz a smile that made the Brigadier's stomach turn. It was a salesman's grin: a means to placate the buyer into a false sense of security so that the merchant might leave with more credits than he deserved. Redwall returned the smile, though it did not reach his eyes.

"A pleasure to be here," he replied, blowing a small cloud of tabac smoke vaguely in the Muun's direction. The alien's smile quickly evaporated as it swatted at the thick smoke. "Of course, I would ask that you do not blow your substance in my face though. My people are sensitive to such things."

"I'll try my best." Redwall grunted. He stared out past the Muun, his eyes narrowing with disgust as he took in the depressing sight of slaves toiling away at their masters' beck and call. One would think that such a practice would have been stamped out by the powers that be ages ago, yet still it thrived. It seemed for all their bluster, the major powers truly only cared about what was going on within their borders.

Nothing new under the sun.

"If you'll follow me Mister Redwall - if I recall correctly, you were looking for house servants?" The Muun asked with a meek tone to its shrill voice.

"That I am," Gotz replied, "Females preferably. My boys need a view on their downtime."

"Of course, of course. We have some of the finest Twi'leks this side of the core if you are interested, or perhaps Zeltrons are more to your liking?"

The Brigadier General offered a shrug, "Call me a connoisseur. Show me your best."

The Muun bowed his head in deference and began to lead Gotz down the main street of the market. Gotz was happy he'd elected to wear his glasses - he wasn't sure he could hide the disgust from showing in his eyes if he wasn't.

They'd not checked him for weapons on his arrival. Gotz had come under the pretense of buying workers for the First Order, and the prestige that came with his affiliation earned him something of a VIP treatment. The greater galaxy was mostly unaware of the moral revolution that had taken hold in the old imperial power, and the slavelords had assumed that a partnership with the FO would be particularly lucrative.

If all went as planned, that misplaced trust would be their undoing. Gotz ran his fingers over the verp hidden within the depths of his coat as the Muun summoned several young women for his appraisal. They were all pretty smile and bright eyes, but Gotz understood the truth of their situation. A single moment of eye contact with one of the girls was enough to stir a primal rage in Gotz's heart: fortunately the soldier was long used to taming such powerful emotions. The only sign of any irritation in his expression was a slight tightening of the muscles in his jaw.

"What are your thoughts Mister Redwall?" The Muun asked.

Gotz took a deep breath. "Some lovely ladies you have here." His tongue clicked, the vibration sending a signal through the comm system imbedded in his glasses. A green signal light flashed in the corner of his lenses, indicating that his boys had received the signal uninterrupted.

"Lovely ladies," he repeated, turning to look at Entrasia Ontalis . "I think we've about made our choice on the girls. You think we're about ready Lieutenant?"

The Muun waited expectantly. Gotz's hand slipped into his coat and wrapped around the grip of his verp, and he noticed several of the 'slaves' in the crowd reaching similarly for their pockets.

The question hung there, a pregnant silence filling the air as Gotz awaited his adjutant's answer.

Vano Roronova

 

[Entrasia Ontalis]

Slavery was something that was particularly repulsive to the lifelong bureaucrat. She had started as a clerk in the armed forces, before becoming a transcriptionist, then an accountant (one would be suprised the amount of combat action accountants undertake when on deployment) where she received most of her combat experience.

She was a bureaucrat first and a soldier second, which gave her a completely different perspective on the practice of slavery. All the paperwork, transactional history, banking, all of it was used in droves by slavers. They treated these sentients like cattle, every single person was just a number to these people in the most literal sense. You could tell none of them were here by choice.

It was sick, but her hatred to it was muted by the immediate danger of the situation. As she was lead around she pretended to enter information onto her datapad as if transcribing the conversation. To be blunt she couldn't bring herself to care about anything these people had to say. She found the very words coming out of the Munn's mouth tainted, unworthy of recording.

There was nothing to gain from recording it, and she would be made a worse person having left some record of this Scum's existence.

She had a disruptor pistol on her appendix, the bulk of the weapon hidden just under the waistband of her skirt. Not that they seemed inclined to check anyway. She wasn't the one to normally use a disruptor, but she thought disintigrating these scum was the least she could do for the greater galaxy. For her own safety, she also had a personal shield, which would prevent her from dying from blaster bolts too easily.

As Redwall spoke to the Munn she subtly moved her right hand across her waist, putting it right in position.

"I think I have everything I need sir." She said.

Gotz Redwall Vano Roronova

 

[Roth Likonis]

OOC: whoops, wrong account.

 

[Vano Roronova]

All in all, it was boring work.

Vano felt a little guilty at that thought. Several hundred meters away, slaves toiled by breaking and sifting rocks, and here he was in (relative) luxury, bored because he was stuck looking at computer screens. In a way, though, this was just another form of oppression; he would live much longer than those breaking rocks, but his life would be consumed with the mundanity of sitting in a chair, taking orders, and slowly succumbing to chronic eyestrain as he died of old age. He had known more than a few educated slaves, who had literally died in their chairs on the job. The thought chilled him to the core. He was nothing more than a glorified computer.

His monitor beeped urgently, and Vano blinked, turning his focus to the screen. Radiological scans of mine 143 had returned some interesting results. Deposits of some kind of brittle transitional metal, surrounded by a fine-grained, foliated, homogeneous metamorphic rock. Vano muttered into his headset comm, ordering the team to reposition their sensor beacons, to take a more detailed scan. Seconds later, more detailed results were available. Magnetic and highly reflective, the transitional metal had a high probability of being chromium. Metamorphic rock was a local mix; something between slate and shale, highly unstable. Vano's gut went cold, as he saw that it was an initial survey. "Initial survey." A polite term to say that a minimally invasive hole in the ground had been drilled into the rock for several hundred meters, and that children were taking the sensor readings. Children, in the near dark, stabbing sensor-probes into the soft and crumbling earth, any moment going to be buried alive. They were, of course, the only ones that fit in the small space; and if they died, well, more could always be made.

"I..." Vano's mouth went dry, and he couldn't force the words out.

"Yes?" Rumbled the pit boss, walking over to Vano's screen.

"I..." Vano began again, his throat clenching. He was rewarded with a fist to the back of his skull, his forehead slamming into the analog button pad linked to his datascreen.

"Speak up!" Roared the pit boss. The promise of more violence was evident in his voice.

"I've found evidence of chromium deposits, four to five metric tons. It is surrounded by a class three mining hazard." The words came unbidden, a reflexive answer to stave off a beating, and Vano instantly hated himself for it. A class three mining hazard meant that cave-ins would be incredibly high; it also meant that industrial equipment wouldn't be able to be brought in - the vibrations would cause further collapse. No, the ore would have to be dug out, laboriously, by hand. Vano knew from experience who would be made to dig it out.

"Excellent! We were sure there was chromium there! Signal the survey team to send in the diggers." The pitboss sounded gleeful - and so he should; he got a percentage of the profits, based on what he and his team found.

Vano slowly signaled the teams to do so, and he watched as a small gang of dirt smudged children crawled out of the hole. They couldn't have been more than eight standard years, across the common slave species. Nearby, a crew master took their tools from them, then switched them out with manual unpowered tools, and marched them right back into the hole they came from. Vano's gut twisted, and he felt bile rise up in his throat.

He could think of a dozen safer ways to do this. Droids. Structural integrity fields. Hydrological separation. But these methods were too expensive; no, the beauty of slaves mining your ore was how cheap it was. A bowl of food, a cup of water, the initial slave purchase (and after you bought a few slaves, you could just breed your own). No...for the price of owning some livestock, you could have a diverse workforce of miners, agro-harvesters, house servants, and more.

There was no use fighting it. No, the best Vano could do was be in a position of consultancy, and do his best to minimize the danger.

"Sir, if vertical shafts were made, the chances of collapse would be much lower. Metamorphic rock holds much better under straight vertical pressure. You could suspend the miners from harnesses, and any collapsing debris would just drop down the shaft harmlessly. This would actually help the extraction process; they could dig out the shale and leave behind the chrom -" Began Vano, his voice hopeful.

" - No." Interrupted the pitboss, turning away from Vano's screen to go check on another sensor operator - a pretty young human, who had an unfortunately large bosom that the Nikto had been staring at all day.

"No?" Asked Vano, hollowly.

"No." Replied the pitboss, hovering over the now obviously nervous woman, his position behind her allowing him to see down her prodigious cleavage. Even now she seemed to try and sink into her seat, trying to become smaller and less visible under the lecherous gaze.

And that was that. No explanation, no reason; just a mandate. "No." Vano ground his teeth, and his hands clenched on either side of the datascreen. It wouldn't cost a dime; the time the miners would save from preventing collapses would offset the cost of making the bore-holes. They'd be able to extract the chromium a full week ahead of schedule, by Vano's estimation. Vano turned in his chair, about to argue with the Nikto - the beating be damned - when screams sounded out from behind him. Both Vano and the Nikto turned to look out across the mining field.

The tunnel that the children had entered had collapsed; chalky white dust floated in the air outside the hole. No one made a move to start digging them out.

=================================​

Woodenly, Vano walked down the street away from the quarry, his twelve hour shift over. People moved out of his way as he walked - the slaves at least - his glassy eyes and grim sneer being enough to give him a wide berth; even the perky receptionist had studiously continued to paint her nails, ignoring him. They all knew that look. That look that said that he had seen too much.

Vano stumbled down an alley, briefly resting on a wall before sliding down to the ground, his hands covering his face. "There was nothing you could do." He said firmly, despite the bile in his throat, the outraged shake in his hand, and the shallow cuts on his palms where fingernails had dug in. "There was nothing you could do." He said again. It was funny, how one could say something over and over and over, and the words would begin to sound strange. The syllables sounding foreign, the words themselves meaningless. Vano suddenly bit the side of his hand - the hand that belonged to his barcoded arm - until it bled. The pain made him focus.

"I killed those children." Vano whispered to himself. The admission shook him, and his body shuddered as if struck by some great weight. Vano had born this life for nearly twenty-three years, and each day was becoming harder and harder; he feared that someday, he simply wouldn't have the strength to rise out of bed. That he would just slip into a final sleep, and never awaken again. The thought sounded so peaceful. So blissful.

"No more. Never again." Vano said, a surge of strength filling him. He had contemplated escape before, of course, but the rate of successful escapes was incredibly low - only one percent. The city that he was at was surrounded by sensor posts, electriwire fencing, and sensor mines keyed to slave collars and tracking ampules like the one in his arm. Even if one got past the security measures, there was the distinct lack of travel offworld without a valid ID (or at least a hefty bribe). But Vano...maybe he could do it. He was smart, far smarter than other slaves. He could easily pose as someone who had lost his ID cards, then barter passage as an engineer or navigator. That left one major problem. His tracking unit. But, there was a way out of that, too.

Turning, Vano stumbled down the street to one of the hardware repair kiosks - the kind that repaired broken mining equipment. A plan was forming in his mind. A drastic plan, a foolhardy plan, but a plan none the less.

"Never again. Never again!" Muttered Vano, resolutely.

Gotz Redwall Entrasia Ontalis

 

[Vulpesen]

Leaning against the wall, Vulpesen glanced around the area, his golden eyes brimming with hate. It was an unfamiliar expression to him. The jedi had taught him to replace hate with pity. The sith had taught to replace it with glee. But standing here, sensing the loss of lives and knowing its cause.... the Vitae were beholden to three words. Life, Freedom, and Unity. This place spat in the face of the first by destroying the second. His fingers twitched by his belt where his saber and a few daggers were kept. All he truly wanted at this moment, was to tear down this place stone by stone. But he had come alone. True he cold take on entire military units with the might of the force, but escaping the planet would take skills that he was far less proficient in.

As he pondered the situation of the people, he heard a voice. Barely audible but caught by the sensitive hearing of his Zorren anatomy. One pointed ear flicked towards it. "Never again." He recognized the tone. Conviction. His eyes moved over to find a dirty humanoid, his eyes filled with sorrow. True, Vulpesen couldn't yet liberate this entire planet. But perhaps one being... He had accepted long ago that there would be no changing the galaxy overnight. But one life. That was doable. Rising off the wall, Vulpesen started to move closer, blending Himself into the crowds and using the force to mask himself. those attempting to find him would find a visage that was hard to look at. A blur that urged you to move on with your eyes to something more interesting unless one truly focused on it. For now he would observe and protect from a distance. After all, freedom enjoyed was best when it was earned for one's self.

Vano Roronova Gotz Redwall Entrasia Ontalis

 

[Gotz Redwall]

Moosic

It'd been well over two months since Gotz had found himself a in firefight. His life had been a mix of paperwork and retraining since securing refuge for his people within the First Order. Beforehand, he'd grown quite used to living life on the frontier. There violence was the ultimate authority from which all other authorities derived, and Gotz had always been keen to maintain his monopoly over it.

Things were a bit different here. The slavelords were rich in coin, though not so much in arms or proper experience. They were used to dealing with unarmed and often starving slaves, not healthy soldiers with decades of campaign behind them. The Essonians had expected a slaughter before ever landing on the planet, and observations after arrival only confirmed the theory.

His lips parted to give the word when the ground began to shake. The former field marshal barked a curse as he grabbed on to a nearby building, eyes wide behind his lenses as he tried to ascertain the source.

Their Muun 'companion' checked its datapad, and nodded knowingly. "Tunnel collapse. Pay it no mind Mister Redwall, these things happen."

"Of course," Redwall grunted, "I don't see much by way of a relief force around here. How do you deal with things like that?"

"Oh, erhm, generally we just let them be."

"What if someone's caught inside?"

"Well, that is the starling reason to have slaves, no? They're expendable." The Muun gave an apathetic shrug.

That was signal enough. Gotz withdrew his verp from the insides of his coat and pointed it directly at the alien's bulbous head in one quick, practiced motion. The Muun had about half a second to widen his eyes before the Verp coughed, reducing the alien's head to mass of blood, brain matter, and bone splattered across the dusty floor.

'Slaves' strategically positioned all around the slave markets responded in turn. Cheesemakers drew vibroblades from their rags, miners revealed the sidearms hidden beneath their wristbands, and mercenaries previously hired to defend the mines turned their weapons on their supposed comrades, executing them with cold professionalism.

They didn't have enough men to hold off the forces of the Slavelords, but they had enough to kill every bastard in the markets and put a decent dent in the trade. Gotz nd his adjutant had slowly filtered men and women into the colony for that express purpose: the keying of a green light in the corner of his glasses told him the twin freighters they had arrived on were secure, and even now were being filled with nearby slaves for extraction.

The thundering of a heavily modified E-WEB made Gotz launch himself behind the wall of a nearby building, a hand reaching out to drag Entrasia Ontalis out of the line of fire with him.

"How long do we have before their proper security force mobilizes Ontalis?" Gotz half-asked, half-snapped as he poked his head out from cover to deliver another near silent shell through the brain stem of a Nikto that was dragging a slave girl by her hair down the street.

Vulpesen , Vano Roronova

 

[Entrasia Ontalis]

Entrasia was much less practiced when it came to things like this. She had firearms training, and she wasn't a greenhorn, she had killed her fair share of people. She was not however, the highly trained special operator type that her superior was. By the time she had managed to pull her disruptor out, she had been yanked down to the side by the Brigadier General, causing her to let out a yelp before sitting behind the cover.

The commlink she was lined into blew up in a moment, as the disparate forces coordinated their strikes to the best of their abilities. However she had a suprise of her own, but that could wait for a moment. She peeked her eye around the corner, spotting security forces coming her way. She retracted her head, took a deep breath, before popping around the corner. She remembered the mercenaries that ran security here, she had researched their formations and training.

She aimed the disruptor pistol at the one that would be the squad leader given the formation, and sent a bolt directly into his chest. The loud distorted thump sent him flying back as he let out an agonized scream, before his body rapidly turned to ash. The incident sent the rest of the squad scrambling for cover, where they could be more easily picked off by the insurgents.

Entrasia then pulled back, finally assessing the question that was asked of her. "Well, normally, response times would be in the 10-15 minute range, with my suprise... i can more than double that." She said pulling out a detonator. "Don't say I didn't come prepared~."

As she pressed the detonator, the earth shook, and a few moments later stopped. "I managed to reprogram some mining droids to dig some tunnels under the barracks in this sector without anyone noticing. Seismic charges go a long way. They'll have to move forces from other sectors, should buy us some time, hopefully."

She wasn't a black ops special forces type, but she was the type to make sure things were stacked in their favor. "Now how are we going to get rid of that E-Web?"

Gotz Redwall Vulpesen Vano Roronova

 

[Vano Roronova]

Vano stumbled into the repair shop, and the tired looking shop keeper within took one look at Vano, then starting back away from him, hands raised. "I-I don't want no trouble mister!" The old man sputtered, a shake in his voice. "I just repair things!" Vano, for his part, breezed past the man towards the back of the shop. Who was he going to call? The police? Slaves had to settle disagreements between themselves. "I...where are you going? The cash register is over...here..." The man trailed off as he watched Vano, realizing what he was doing, what he was planning. "Oh. Oh that is a bad idea sonny!"

Vano looked up from his position in the backroom. He was next to a work bench, his sleeve rolled up past the elbow, his bare bar-coded arm situated underneath an un-activated plasma saw. "It's surgically embedded. Biowires through the skin and nervous tissue. I can't just - "

"I know how it works!" Snapped the repairman, twisting to the side slightly to show a similar barcode and lump on the side of his neck. "Where will you go? What will you do? How will you get off planet? You youngsters never think these things through!" As he spoke, though, the old man disappeared and then reappeared with a medkit. "Hmmm? Just going to pass out from shock in the street? Didn't think of that either, did you!"

Vano hadn't, actually. This was more of a spur of the moment type of thing, before he got too scared to go through with it. "I...thank you." He muttered, as the man came closer. For his part, the elderly man made no move to stop him, but did exchange rotary energy blade out of the saw, in favor of a newer and thinner looking one. Probably better for fine cuts. The thought made Vano pale somewhat.

"Think. Be calm. Even if you get away from here, you will have a lifetime of looking over your shoulder. You won't make it anywhere if you don't come up with a plan." Said the old man, wagging a finger in Vano's face. "And really, just chopping the arm off above the elbow? You have to slice it below the humerus, through the joint." With a practiced hand, the old man grabbed Vano's arm, then repositioned it under the plasma saw - eventually nodding in satisfaction.

"How do you know that?" Asked Vano, quizzically.

"There's no doctors for slaves, sonny. Body is just another machine; I do what I can, when I can - like right now." Said the man matter of factly. Then, in one smooth motion, he slammed the head of the plasma saw downward; the blade activated, the circular metal blade spinning, the edges energizing with plasma. Vano felt a pinch, like a vice squeezing his elbow joint, and he heard a flop as something meaty landed on the ground.

Vano's eyes opened, and in detached horror he regarded the stump of his arm, the end cauterized and smoking, the amputated limb on the floor limply. His vision swam, sweat beaded on his brow, and some part of his brain tried to make the arm on the ground twitch despite it being detached - as if the perfectly healthy looking limb could still be controlled. "I...my...arm..." He mumbled, swaying on his feet. "It's on...the ground...my arm..." Vano swayed, then almost fell, but was stopped by the old man.

"Easy child. Easy." Said the older man, easing him onto a stool - guiding an unsteady Vano to slump over the workbench. "I told you, you wouldn't make it far because of shock and blood loss." Opening the medkit to the side, he took out several syringes. One after another he stabbed them into Vano's shoulder. Antishock, polybiotic, pain killer, and bacta. "There you go." Said the old man, leaning back after administering the last shot. "That should hold you for a couple of hours at least. You're going to need a doctor, eventually. You won't die from shock in the street, at the least."

Already, color was returning to Vano's face. What he needed now, though, was rest.

= = = = = = = X = = = = = = =​

Vano awoke with a start, his eyes snapping open. Startled, he lost his balance on the stool he was sitting on - and throwing out an arm he tried to catch himself. He proceeded to tumble down to the floor onto his back. "Ah!" Wincing, bruised, he extended the same arm to grip the side of the table to pull himself up - then froze, as he saw the stump. It felt like his arm was still there, the nerves convinced that there was still a hand at the end of that stump. "Oh." He didn't know what else to say. He rolled to all fours, then pushed himself up with his remaining hand.

The ground shook. Screams rang out from the street.

Vano froze, realizing that must be what had woken him up. Rising to his feet unsteadily, he clutched his stump close to his chest, stumbling towards the exit. The old man was nowhere to be seen. Stumbling out the front of the shop, Vano gaped in shock at the scene that greeted him. Slaves ran to and fro in mass confusion, slave masters joined them - occasionally dying as they fell over with holes in them. Down the street in the market square - not a hundred meters away - armed men milled around with weapons, gunning down sentients left and right. Though, noted Vano, it seemed they only were killing administrators, clerks, and a few slavemasters. Vano felt no pity for the slavemasters, but had a pang of sympathy for the others; many were indentured servants, and, though they had chosen the life freely, many had done so due to a lack of choice. That mattered little now; they had chosen the wrong side, it seemed.

Lurching back into the shop, Vano reappeared clutching a long pipe-like object tipped by a conical head - a plasma torch. Though an improvised weapon, it would be better than no weapon at all. Unsteadily, he lurched into the street and the throngs of panicking masses. Surely the garrison would...Vano then noticed the smoke column rising from the garrison. He knew then, that this was no ordinary attack. He turned, making his way to the landing docks - in the chaos and confusion, there had to be a ship to steal, or someone to threaten, or bribe, or something. He'd never get a better chance than this.

Gotz Redwall Vulpesen Entrasia Ontalis

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen watched the slave walk into the shop, curiosity peaking in his features. Striding up, he glanced through the windows, catching glimpses of his plan. "Oh... that's gonna hurt," he whispered to himself, his had trailing down to his arm. Still, it was his decision, and given his own familiarity with what was in his body, perhaps it was the best option. Patiently, Vulpesen waited. This was a story he was invested in. A tale of freedom at any costs, and he saw no rush to leave the area.

As he relaxed and focused on his surroundings, Vulpesen had started to become in tune with the lives around him. Misery and dejection filled the air like water in a lake, and the people around him were simply fish in the malevolent current. At least, most of them were. Somewhere in the crowd, he could feel something shifting. Presences who didn't belong, their minds driven by a purpose of their own choosing. Looking through the crowd, Vulpesen allowed his eyes to rest on one large figure speaking to a Muun near a vendor of slaves. There was a tenseness to the man and Vulpesen narrowed his eyes trying to figure out what it was.

The weapon acted before Vulpesen had truly even understood what it was and within moments, the market area was surrounded with weapons. Slavers fell and weapons roared to life. Somewhere he could hear the spitting of an E-web and Vulpesen had to sidestep to avoid the blade of one ex-cheesemaker who seemed to consider him as one of the oppressor's. "Wrong target, friend." A wave of his hand sent the assailant flying into the crowd where he would find another man more worthy of his ire.

Speaking of targets, Vulpesen's eyes turned back to the entrance where his mark was emerging with a plasma torch, his eyes holding a look that Vulpesen knew all too well. He was looking for options. A way out. Escaping quietly with a lopped off arm was one thing. Doing it in the middle of a skirmish was quite another. Striding forward, Vulpesen made his way towards Vano Roronova, his black tail flicking behind him as he allowed himself to be made known. "I think the main streets are about to be filled with fire. I suggest you follow me." Even as he spoke, he could sense a surge of presences as what security forces were nearby started to run towards the commotion. They wouldn't have long before the first wave made it to their location and Vulpesen doubted that they'd be careful to differentiate between slave and insurgent.

Gotz Redwall Entrasia Ontalis

 

[Gotz Redwall]

"I'm always impressed with your resourcefulness lieutnenant," Gotz half-mumbled, half-barked as the E-Web spattered the ground next to him with plasma. "And that's a very good question. Don't have much time. Can't get this thing done if we're stuck here like this," the Brigadier mumbled a curse under his breath as he keyed the comm on his lenses to one of the fireteams on overwatch.

"Hey Big Bird, you wanna deal with that turret? Preferably before it kills everyone?" He grumbled into the comms. A blurt of static was his response, and for a moment his heart dropped. His mind was jumping frantically for options when a bang significantly louder than the rest silenced the roaring E-Web.

"Art takes time boss. Can't rush it." 'Big Bird's voice crackled over his comm. Gotz breathed a sigh of relief as he poked his head out from cover, and couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face at the sight of the smoking mass of metal that was once the turret. "I'll rush what I damn well please." A pause, "Thanks."

Gotz glanced back to his adjutant. "We need load as many folks as we can onto the transport before they can scramble their fighters, otherwise we're going to have a damn interesting time trying to fly out of here."

The main plaza did not quiet itself, but some of the chaos dimmed as his soldiers either executed or subdued the nearby enforcers. Orders had been to take whatever captives surrendered so that they might stand trial. Gotz hoped doing so would go a long way in securing the trust of any slaves they absconded with.

Small hordes of people hailing from a dozen different races cowered in the buildings along the main street. Taking advantage of the brief moment of piece, Gotz keyed the vocalizer on his lenses, allowing his voice to carry over the background noise of combat.

"Slaves," Gotz had always been to-the-point. "I am Brigadier General Redwall of the Sons of Ession, here on behalf of the First Order." Not completely true. This op had been of their own design: wasn't really the business of the brass if he only used his private soldiers. "We have a very brief period to get off this rock, and any of you that wants to may come with us. My boys will escort you to the hangers, you stay behind them and keep your heads low. If any you have the will to fight, now's the time."

It was risky to speak so openly, but there was no other way to get information to the masses. That risk showed itself in full due as the crack of a high powered rifle broke the din, and Gotz founded himself thrown to the dirt. The sensation as difficult to describe: a mix of overwhelming pain, and sudden numbness where the plasma simply burned away the nerves. The adrenal injectors in his coat responded immediately, dumping a near unhealthy amount of adrenaline and painkillers into the Brigadier's body the moment his vitals shifted to critical.

"Shab!" Gotz spat as he rolled through the dirt, another bolt smashing into the sand where he'd just been. He didn't have time to look at the wound, or ever really figure out where it was - he just fired his verp rapidly in the vague direction of the sniper and stumbled his way over behind an inert speeder.

The Brigadier continued to spit his string of curses as he shakily jammed a fresh magazine into his verp, his lenses lighting up with status reports that he was far too distracted to pay attention to.

"Aircraft incoming!" One of the soldiers shouted just as the screams of atmospheric engines threatened to collapse Redwall's eardrums. Not good. Not good at all.

"Lietuenant," Redwall waved over at his adjutant. "Fireteams two and three are securing the hanger! We need to move our shebs that way. We don't take the hanger's AA and those fighters blast our freighters out of the sky the moment we lift off: this'll all be for nothing."

Not acceptable. Gotz drew in a deep breath, counted to three, and charged out from cover. The sniper took another shot at him, which missed by a mere few inches as Gotz found himself stumbling into another back alley. A handful of slaves were clustered nearby, mostly children by the looks of them. One had appropriated a fallen rifle, and the rest seemed to be following her lead.

"Hey," Gotz grunted.

"Hey." The kid grunted back.

"Gonna get y'all out of here if I can. You know how to use that thing?"

"Well enough," the girl replied.

"I'll take your word for it. You know how to get to the hangers?"

"I can show you the way. There's more people though, we gotta get them mister."

"I know." Gotz glanced out toward the main street. "...I know." The slaves were moving in throngs behind his soldiers. His people hadn't taken many casualties yet, but the impending arrival of the slavelords' private army would see to that quickly. Without air supremacy, it was only a matter of time until they were picked off one by one.

"Hey!" Gotz snapped at two figures standing out near the plaza - what looked to be a man with some kind of tail, and a cripple who, judging by the awkward way he moved, was new to the one-armed life. "Get over here before those fighters do another strafing run. Gonna get your heads blown off!"

As if on que, the screams of the fighter's engines thundered overhead. Gotz's men ushered the slaves into the alleys as best they could, though not all were lucky. A stream of green bolts thundered down at them, and naught was left but smoldering ash and burning body parts of those too slow to react.

"Ashla save their souls."

Entrasia Ontalis , Vulpesen , Vano Roronova

 

[Entrasia Ontalis]

In a blink of an eye a lot happened, to the point that it kind of became a blur. In but a few moments the E-Web was gone, and her mind began to just start doing things. The Disruptor thuds began to let out rythmically without her even needing to think about it much, the reloads became much more fluid, less finicky. Perhaps this is what it was like to be Redwall.

She only snapped out of it when the Brigadier General spoke. She took in every word mentally, and noted is as best she could so she could record it later.

"Roger Sir, Please keep your eyes o-" Almost as she spoke the sniper fired once, hitting the Brigadier hard. She had come prepared with a shield, she could probably eat a few of those blasts, but she didn't want to take her chances.

Another blast, she used the time to figure out where the sniper was. He was way out the other end of the alley. Urban Sniping was a very finicky thing, you couldn't get the range that snipers liked so much. You could see the glimmer of the scope shining off the sun, and to make it better they were only a few hundred meters away.

She aimed used the Sniper's focus of the General to line up a shot. Then she pulled the trigger. It was at the extent of the disruptors range, the bolt already losing coherency by the time it reached the sniper, but it was just close enough. The guy was atomized in a second. That was the furthest shot she had ever made with a handgun. Necessity breeds excellence as they say.

The sniper dealt with she made her way into the alley's following close behind Redwall. He had just finished talking to the children. She came up behind him, finally catching up as he spoke to the two mysterious individuals. One was some kind of fox-like near human, the other was missing an arm. What a wonderful duo. She didn't have time to say anything before the strafing run happened and she got as low to the ground as she could without going prone.

"Sir, we need to keep moving." She looked to the other two, who had hopefully liberated themselves from the exposed street. "Look, we have a freighter out of here, but we need to secure the hangars first. If any of you can use a blaster it would help a lot. I have a spare on me."

She then pulled out a small holdout blaster out of her coat, extending it towards Vano Roronova "This should work for you, I think. It's not very powerful but its light enough to use one handed."

Vulpesen Gotz Redwall

 

[Vano Roronova]

"Hey!" Gotz snapped at two figures standing out near the plaza - what looked to be a man with some kind of tail, and a cripple who, judging by the awkward way he moved, was new to the one-armed life. "Get over here before those fighters do another strafing run. Gonna get your heads blown off!"

"Look, we have a freighter out of here, but we need to secure the hangars first. If any of you can use a blaster it would help a lot. I have a spare on me."

She then pulled out a small holdout blaster out of her coat, extending it towards Vano Roronova "This should work for you, I think. It's not very powerful but its light enough to use one handed."

Things happened quite quickly - the ground in the plaza erupted in flashes of actinic neon light as the Nar Kreetan air squadron was mobilized; Vano, still regarding the tailed man (and indeed was about to open his mouth to speak) was thrown backward and back into the alley by the force of the strafing run. His vision swam, and only the medication he had been given prior kept him conscious.

Then a smallish woman was pushing a blaster into his hand.

Numbly, still dazed, Vano took it. He knew how a blaster operated, of course. The theory and principles of energizing plasmatic gas, bottling it, and then ejecting it out of a tube for offensive purposes. Knowing how something worked, and comfortably using it were two very different things. He had dropped the plasma torch in the confusion, and pinching the weapon between two fingers, he regarded it as one might some slimy or squirming thing. From Vano's perspective, blasters and shockwhips were the weapons of Masters - not of slaves. He deposited the blaster in his pocket, then grasped the woman's hand. She seemed to be, or at least related, to those in charge of this assault.

"You are making grave mistakes!" Vano gestured to his arm which even now bled weakly from the cauterized stump, indicating why he had cut the limb off. "Transmitter chips, keeper controls, shock collars set to lethal and magnetically sealed around necks. You will move the slaves in transports outside of the range of the control umbrella, and they will all die!" Vano gestured to the body of a woman lying in the street, who had apparently simply keeled over, dead from no visible external source. The woman had likely strayed too far from the designated path set by her master when she was out buying groceries, and her control device had killed her for it. "These devices are intricate and difficult to remove - you cannot hope to deactivate enough of them in time to evacuate your slaves!"

Turning, Vano pointed at a tall sensor tower (maybe four or five stories tall) set atop an official looking government building. Even now, a fair number of soldiers were swarming around the facility - but they were obviously dazed and confused. "The control signal must be altered; it manages the enslavement devices in this sector block. If we alter the signal, it can release the slaves in this region. Get me to the sensor tower, and inside to the control room. I can do the rest. Whatever you do, don't destroy it."

Vano didn't really know why he was saying all of this. He should've been running, saving himself, as quickly and selfishly as possible. Further, he wasn't exactly a brave man, though neither was he a coward; he was, in a word, the summation of meekness and obedience that most slaves typified due to a life of servitude and beatings. Perhaps, then, this was penance; penance for the children he had killed, however inadvertently or forced. Yes, realized Vano; if he didn't do something to balance out the guilt, then escape was meaningless.

Vulpesen Gotz Redwall Entrasia Ontalis

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen dashed into cover as the plaza was blasted to bits, his cloak simply flapping around him as the force kept him rooted rather than allowing the concussion wave to sprawl him on the ground. When he had said that the streets would be filled with fire, it wasn't exactly what he meant, but at least he hadn't been understating the danger. "Oh look, friends," he said dryly as the slaves crowded in, joined by the joint leaders of the assault. As Entrasia Ontalis produced her weapon and offered it to the slave, Vulpesen loosened his grip on the pistol he was about to produce from his own belt. It seemed that great minds thought alike. However, he still found use for the weapon as another fighter screamed towards them, its guns lining up on the alley.

Lifting his arm, Vulpesen focused the force through his limbs, using it to line up the shot. With a loud retort, the fennec fired its projectile, a mix of matter and energy which pierced through the glass of the cockpit and scattered the pilots grey matter over the back of his seat. With the threat of the guns dealt with, Vulpesen simply waved his hand to send the now uncontrolled craft careening into the empty town square as opposed to on top of their heads.

Hearing his newfound companion's concern, Vulpesen furrowed his brow and looked up to the tower. "Well, freedom won't do them much good if they're fried up like insects on my porch." He glanced to the others. The man was a large fellow, and he appeared to be wounded though capable. The female had juts demonstrated her skills with the shot against the sniper, a feat which as far as he could tell, had been unassisted by the force. He didn't know these people and the mention of the First Order wasn't a phrase that he felt inclined to trust. At the moment however, they're interests seemed aligned. "Lead the way, we'll cover you." He could feel the pain and determination in the man before him. Truly, the Valde was impressed by the initiative and he'd be damned if he let anything get in his way.

There was a buzz in his ear, followed by a professional but distressed voice. "Vixen to Valde! Sir, are you alright!?"

Reaching up, he keyed into his comlink. "I'm fine, Captain. Get into the air and clear the skies as best you can. Keep low incase of AA, and get ready to pick up any slaves once I give the signal."

"Understood sir."

It was good to have friends. Even better when those friends were an elite royal guard unit who's entire purpose in life was to keep you alive an do what you said. He had hoped to give his men a break, handle his little mission without assistance while they played games and prepped for take off... apparently they were going to earn their credits after all.

Vano Roronova Gotz Redwall

 

[Gotz Redwall]

(Sorry for taking a bit to post. Tied up with work.)

Shab. Shab!

It was never simple. There was always some loose element that had gone unaccounted for: some tiny detail just barely missed by the logisticians, and that detail seemed to always spell absolute failure for the operation. Gotz had hoped in his heart of hearts that such was not the case here: that they might perform a wholly altruistic deed, and in return, the galaxy might throw them a bone. That being the 'good guys' was enough to warrant a lack of complication in the field.

As usual, his hopes were dashed as quickly as they came.

"Always something," Gotz grumbled as he tried to will away the throbbing pain in his chest. Simply wishing it away wasn't doing him much good, so he helped the process along with a quick stim injection just above his heart. The relief, and the adrenaline that came with it, were near instant.

A hand pressed to his lenses and his voice began to transmit over the secure TACCOM. "This is Little Bird, change of plans people," Gotz snapped, "I need fireteams A through F to report to my position immediately for a push toward location Zeta. Marking it on your maps now; the rest of you stick to the current plan. Do not, and I repeat, do not exfil without us. It's going to get hot, gonna look rough, but we'll be fine if we stick it through."

A pause. "One armed slave with me is priority number one for escort. He dies and this op is bust. You all know what it's going to take."

Gotz jerked his head toward. Vano Roronova. "You're leading chief. We'll cover you as best we can."

It was around that time that the fighter came strafing back, and shortly after that moment the fighter simply ceased to exist. Gotz stared at Vulpesen with a momentary confusion, but opted to swallow his bafflement. Now was not the time.

"Fancy work," he mumbled, slamming another mag into his verp as he took point. "Now let's get running folks, not a lot of time to kill!"

Entrasia Ontalis

 

[Entrasia Ontalis]

She should have known better, slavers cruelty was impossible to calculate. Wasn't enough to keep them under armed guards, mark them with tattoos, you needed to put kill collars on them too it seemed. Sick didn't even begin to describe these atrocities. Perhaps it was for the best that she hadn't even considered it, she would lose even more sleep.

But that brought its own problems, now they had to improvise. A good preparer didn't just prepare for eventualities, they also prepared for the eventuality they had to improvise. She pulled something like a grenade launcher from her backpack, then shoved some kind of device into the chamber, before firing the device up into the sky, giving a loud thump.

Then, a swarm of small, floating droids deployed from the shell, dispersing over the entire area. Then a high pitched shrill would emit from them, and Entrasia pulled out a holocommunicator puck.

She then activated it, and it displayed an incredibly blurry map of the area, with red blips marking likely hostiles. It wasn't the best map, some blips teleported around, and some areas had significantly less details than others.

She handed the map to Gotz Redwall "For route decisions. Keep in mind this won't differentiate friend from foe, so you need to know where your men are."

Vulpesen
Vano Roronova

 

[Vano Roronova]

"Fancy work," he mumbled, slamming another mag into his verp as he took point. "Now let's get running folks, not a lot of time to kill!"

Vano winced at the report of the vulpine's sidearm, and ducked reflexively to the ground in the way only a civilian can - that is to say, two full seconds after the weapon had fired, and when any imminent danger would have already blown through his chest. From his position on the ground, his arms covering his head, he watched as the atmospheric fighter that had been harassing them spiraled out of control - before smacking into a building and then the ground, detonating. "I am very much out of my depth." Muttered Vano, deadpan, the shock of it all (including his arm) making him strangely calm. Tearing his eyes off the smoke plume that billowed from the wreckage, he hauled himself to his feet, looking down numbly at his hands - which the gravel underfoot had bloodied somewhat. Silently, he ignored it, instead focusing on the control tower and its accompanying building.

Around him, soldiers began to move, and Vano moved with them down the street and towards Local Control Office 43-b (or so it was labeled on its front, in large bronzium letters). As they moved, Vano did his best to duck and cover - the street was littered with ancient speeders, wooden carts and stalls, and permacrete slabs and blocks that had been blown loose in the firefight. The soldiers at the Control Office finally took notice, and a sergeant barked orders and finally managed to get his men under control. Lining up behind barricades, they took aim with rifles and pistols, raining suppressive fire down the street, and chipping away at the cover.

Vano, for his part, just focused on moving. Darting from cover to cover, the sizzle and crackle of blaster bolts whirring overhead and just narrowly missing his body (most aimed and fired blindly by what amounted to a security force, such was his luck), Vano slowly inched up the street along with his would-be rescuers. Tripping over a clump of permacrete, Vano once more was sent to the ground - thinking better to try and stand back up, he instead crawled forward, using chipped and splitting fingernails and scuffed knees and elbows to drag himself across the battle field. Until, finally, his hand his a stone step.

Blinking, he looked up, seeing that he was at the front of the Control Office. The ranks of the security force breaking around him, many retreated, though several stragglers stubbornly retreated back into the building. Pulling the doors closed, they barricaded it from the inside, engaging electronic locks and a magnetic seal.

Shakily Vano stood into a half-crouch, expecting more blasterfire at any moment. "Well...that could have gone...worse." Glancing down, he did a double-take as he saw that a stray blaster bolt had grazed his leg - the charred flesh peeking through his ruined pants. That and his knees and fingertips were bleeding rather copiously from where he had been crawling. It seemed a small price to pay.

Vulpesen Gotz Redwall Entrasia Ontalis

 

[Vulpesen]

Looking over at Gotz Redwall Vulpesen winced as he took notice of severity of the man's wound. "Here, let me get that for ya." Raising a hand, he channeled the force into the injury, helping to knit the flesh and ease the pain. While far better at tearing people apart, he could put them back together in a pinch. At least it would hold until the commander got himself some real medical attention. With the physical wounds in their group taken care of, Vulpesen offered Vano an encouraging smile. "Nonsense, you're doing fine. Just keep moving and don't die."

Steeling himself for the fight to come, Vulpesen rushed out with his charge and the escort force while a snap-hiss sounded, his saberstaff's blade springing forth. The black and gold beam of energy rose up to meet the blaster bolts that assailed them, quickly weaving a luminescent pattern. "Just keep moving! You run we fight!" His senses came alive with each flick of his wrist. Every retort of a blaster was like laughter which delighted his ears. He was forged in war. He was born for it and this was where he belonged, protecting by way of the sword.

As Vano hit the ground, Vulpesen continued his defense and onslaught, augmenting his deflection with occasional bursts of lightning though he left the main defense to the military folks that were accompanying them. Eventually, they made their ways to the doors and the Valde released a frustrated growl as the doors closed in their faces. "Unless you have key, cover me!" Reaching into his cloak, Vulpesen pulled out a golden fox faced mask and set it over his face before throwing up his hood. Quickly, he detached the halves of his weapon and plunged them into the doors, doing his best to dig through the thick metal. It wouldn't be the first time he employed this tactic, but that didn't make it much faster. Blast doors didn't like additional doors being cut into them.

Vano Roronova Entrasia Ontalis

 

[Gotz Redwall]

There was a simplicity to the violence.

Greater conflict was a complex game, a war fought between two minds, and those in between rendered as little more than pawns. Such was the way Gotz had learned to wage war during his days at the head of a galactic power, but they were long gone now. This was little more than a small skirmish in the eyes of his past campaigns, and yet it might very well be the end of him.

The Verp sputtered as Gotz tried to fire from an empty magazine. The Brigadier spat a curse as and hurled the empty weapon at the exposed skull of the security officer he'd been aiming at. The Twi'lek made a strangled noise as the verp caved the upper portion of his skull in. Gotz wasted little time in running up to the twitching man to retrieve his lost weapon - the verp costed about as much as a new starship. He wasn't about to lose it here.

That twisting pain shot through his chest again. Gotz grumbled a string of curses as he tried to ignore it, and found himself failing. Even more disciplined minds could not ignore the base, animalistic revulsion to pain that infected an organic body. He was about to mumble into his comm for a medic when the tail-man-thing raised a hand toward him.

Gotz's expression of confusion melted away as some of the tightness in his chest withered. It wasn't gone entirely, but the pain went from near all consuming to the equivalent of a slight break. Still painful, but manageable. Puzzled, Gotz just offered a thankful nod. He didn't understand the mechanics behind wizard magic, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Oh, it can always go worse brother," Gotz offered with faux reassurance as he dug into his back pockets in search of a new magazine. He'd been fortunate enough to pack few a spares, and the verp whirred with something near akin to approval as he slammed another mag into place.

"You look about as good as I do," he added after giving Vano Roronova a quick onceover. The guy looked rough. "No fething clue what you're doing there, but if it'll get us through, have at it," he added to Vulpesen .

"Lieutenant," he gestured toward Entrasia Ontalis as he took a pot shot at one security officer that drew too close. It seemed they were pulling back for now, but Gotz knew that would only be temporary. They had the numerically superior force; it was likely they were just regrouping for a far greater assault. "Can you check our man's vitals here and make sure he's still green? Rather not break into this place for it all to be for nothing."

 

[Titus of Epoch]

Gotz Redwall "Little bird, this is Fireteam Alpha. We are moving to your position, hang tight."

The voice reverberated from the signature helmet of a 'Son of Ession', light blue in color, marred up by carbon scoring and indentations from years of combat. All for the protection of the Essionian people, all for the glory of the Grayson Imperium. Abrams rose from his kneeled position and unfolded his fist into a open palm, guiding the team of true soldiers around him off toward the plaza. Battle did not scare a Son of Ession, where others fled, they charged. Where others buckled from the weight of war, they stood strong, forged mighty to combat the Sith and the followers of Bogan. Where others tired, they pushed until there was nothing left.

Fireteam Alpha began to move in tight formation down a crowded street, covering corners as they came across them. The distant sounds of combat sent a shiver down Abrams's spine, a rush of adrenaline rose in it's place. Despite all the good he'd done, despite all the morals he had, the ideals he held dear. Nothing compared to the thrill of battle, nothing compared to the feeling of meeting another warrior on the battlefield. As they continued onward they were met by panicked civilians, slavers and slaves alike. Keeping their eyes laser focused, they tried to sort through the crowd.

"Alot of civis, keep it tight. Don't engage unless you have a positive on the hostiles." Abrams rose his rifle to meet his shoulder, he set one foot in front of the other as he took point. The sergeant continued until they were set upon by blaster fire, several civilians were cut down in a hailstorm of red lights. "Hostiles engaged." The team fired back, immediately taking cover at the corner of one of the buildings. Dark carbon scoring steaked across the surface of the building, Abrams motioned to two members of Alpha with his offhand and pointed towards their flank. Jacen folded his hand into a fist and brought it down, the two immediately branched off from the team as the group opened cover fire on the hostiles.

The sounds of back and forth blaster fire came to an abrupt halt after several minutes of raining shots. The two Sons of Ession who had broken off unleashed blaster fire of their own as they flanked the enemy and closed in on the remainder with their vibroknives at close range. "Little bird, we are approaching your location." Abrams and the others came out from behind cover, slowly scanning the street as they regrouped with the two successful ambushers. Sliding their knives back into their respective sheathes, they prepped themselves for heavy combat and moved on. They were no ordinary soldiers, they were a team of pipefitters ready to tear down the walls. They were Sons of Ession, and they were coming.