Dominion Inter/Stellar | First Order Dominion of Tholon

[Renata Westaway]

Beneath the veneer of gentility and hospitality, Deephaven felt to Renata Westaway like a city on the edge. The coup that had installed Quinlan Reade to the provisional governorship of Tholon had been more or less bloodless, and well-received by the rank-and-file of the city and the rest of the planet. Most people didn’t feel strongly about one leader over another, and though there were a few whose noses were out of joint over The Director’s sudden downfall, there were many more that were relieved that the planet would start producing again, which meant food on their tables and clothes on their backs. While he had been claiming to work for the interests of the working classes on Tholon, The Director’s policies had been deeply harmful. Instead of letting the workers mine, refine, and export the materials that were within Tholon’s grasp, he paid them very nearly starvation wages not to work, to prove a point to the ‘outsiders’ that Tholonian blood was not shed lightly.

He had then proceeded to shed enough Tholonian blood to float an armada.

Still, though the city felt peaceful and calm, Renata felt herself worrying every time she crossed paths with a Tholonian she didn’t know, there was a fleeting moment of terror. Maybe this is it, she would think. Maybe this is the one who walks up to me with a silencer or a knife. But then… the exchange would pass and Renata would walk away with all her appendages. Still, as the Tholonian waitress approached with a carafe of caff, Renata felt herself tense. Then she spoke: “More caff, ma’am?”

“Oh, please,” Renata said, offering a brittle smile. “Thank you.”

As she filled the cup, the waitress said: “There’s a gentleman in the lobby asking after you, ma’am. A Mr. Reardon.”

Renata frowned and half-turned in her seat, then glanced at her watch. “Damn, I’m late. That’s plenty of coffee, thank you. You’ll charge the breakfast to my room?” The waitress nodded, and Renata gulped down her coffee quickly before standing, slipping her blazer on, and hustling into the lobby. “Sorry, Niles,” she said as she breezed past him. He immediately fell into step beside her. “Are we very late?”

“No, Foreign Secretary, we’ll make it to the royal residence with plenty of time,” said Niles Reardon. “I just wanted to give you an update on the Director situation on the way.” They left the hotel and ducked into a waiting landspeeder. “We have had conflicting reports that the Director left the planet, but also credible but unconfirmed reports that he has been seen in the tunnel complexes as recently as yesterday evening. That was the reason for the doubling up of your security detail.”

“Understood,” said Renata gravely, accepting the report he proffered. She studied it with her one good eye, flipping through the flimsis to follow along.

“We do have credible threats that Republican forces will attempt extreme measures to interfere with Governor Reade’s administration and any attempts by the First Order to take control of the system,” Reardon continued. “The scope and nature of these measures are not yet known, but we have no reason to suspect that he will be able to gain access to the royal residence, or to the hotels at which you and Moff Yvarro are staying.”

“Some good news,” Renata remarked dryly.

Reardon hesitated. “Yes, ma’am,” he said after a moment, then held up a hand as he touched his earpiece. “Sorry, ma’am, priority signal from Delilah Graham. Shall I put her through?” At Renata’s nod, the auburn-haired security analyst appeared on the car’s holoprojector.

“Good evening, Foreign Secretary. Mr. Reardon.” Graham nodded at both. “Although I gather it’s morning in your part of the galaxy. At any rate, I have an urgent bulletin. We have received reports of strange devices located in the tunnels and mines leading deeper into the planet. I’ve dispatched agents to analyze them, but from appearance, they could well be explosive devices. From their placement, if they are explosives of a significant yield, they could seal off those tunnels.”

Renata listened, watching the screen with concern. “What’s in those tunnels?”

“Aside from thousands of Tholonian workers,” Graham said -- her tone not quite dismissive, but not quite compassionate, “Billions of credits worth of resources vital to the Tholonian economy and the First Order’s military-industrial complex, the delay in mining, refinery, and export of which could well destroy Tholon’s fragile peace and cause significant setbacks for the First Order’s defensive schemes.”

“Stang,” said Renata.

“Stang indeed,” Graham agreed gravely.

“Do we think these devices are connected to reports that the Director is still onworld?” Renata asked, lifting a hand to scratch her forehead.

Graham hesitated. “It is likely an effort by the partisans of the Republic, but it is not yet clear whether the Director played a direct role. We are still analyzing the intelligence.”

“The man -- person, whatever -- had the opportunity to flee. What’s keeping him here? Another bite at the apple?”

“We’re still looking into it. In the meantime, I will continue to keep you updated. I’ve already forwarded a copy of the report and will brief Moff Yvarro as well. And, at your direction, I will provide the same report to Governor Reade. If his people have any intelligence to share, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Very good, Graham. Brief them right away; we’ll be at the royal residence in a few minutes and it’s best if we’re both conversational.” She paused and then sighed. “And let the Palace know. We can’t have the Supreme Leader coming here to ink the deal if the planet’s at risk of blowing apart or caving in or whatever it is planets do when things like this happen.”

There was a smirk in Graham’s voice when she responded; not at the gravity of the situation, of course, but at the Moff’s colorful discussion of it. “Of course, Foreign Secretary. I’ll let Her Majesty’s private secretary know. Graham, out.”

Renata looked over at Reardon, her fingers drumming on her left leg anxiously. She knew what he was thinking; if those devices were explosives and they went off and rendered Tholon economically devastated, would it even be worth it bringing them into the First Order? She pretended not to have that thought, too. Instead, she said: “Remind me to suggest an evacuation if push comes to shove down there.” She blew out a sigh and adjusted her eyepatch. “Not a great way to kick off negotiations, is it, Niles?”

“It’s not over yet, ma’am.”

Renata looked out the window as the distinctive royal residence loomed in the distance. She didn’t answer. The car eased to a halt outside the royal residence and Renata stepped out, ready to face the Tholonians, come what might.

Spoiler: Objectives and Thread Graphics

Tholon’s new government, led by Quinlan Reade, has petitioned the First Order for membership in its burgeoning new government. The First Order’s government personnel and others will travel to Deephaven, Tholon’s capital, to negotiate Tholon’s entry. Opportunities abound for government characters to perform the negotiations, but intelligence, Security, and First Imperial Knights would also be on hand to provide security and protection.

The Director is at large, having been driven from his headquarters by Quinlan Reade’s counter-coup. The man is highly dangerous and extremely ambitious, and will no doubt cause problems for Tholon if he manages to elude capture. Military, intelligence, and First Imperial Knights are tasked with hunting him down and taking him into custody so that he can stand trial for his crimes.

Miners have reported mysterious devices in the tunnels in the interior of the planet, where the richest mineral veins are. Intelligence suggests that these devices are explosives, planted by Republican loyalists in order to prevent the riches of Tholon falling into the hands of the enemies of the TWR. First Order forces must evacuate the threatened mines and/or disable the explosive devices to save the lives of thousands of miners and refinery workers that would surely be killed should the mine shafts collapse.

Bring your own Objective!

 

[Omari Ngao]

OBJ 3

---

Omari could remember the day that had earned him his first recommendation in the First Order Stormtrooper Corps. It was Lothal, and one of the Imperial officials, a Governor maybe, was captured by insurgent forces. It had been his quick thinking there that had maneuvered a quick team of Stormtroopers to get through the crossfire of an open courtyard to get into an apartment complex.

But this was different.

No insurgents to shoot through. No VIP to extract.

Just civilians that needed to be evacuated.

His transport shuttle was one of many that had been deployed to the mines, but his doubled as a command and a base of operations nearby to the mine. There were already stormtroopers on the ground providing escort to the first of the miners being evacuated from the mines to waiting transport shuttles that would take them to safety - if they had a locale to drop them to.

<"This is Colonel Ngao on the ground. Evacuation is underway -- Requesting shuttle destinations.">

He stood on the opened ramp, watching the ongoings. Nearby, a bomb squad was coming together, preparing for deployment into the mines. Among them was the Foreman, and a few of his supervisors in tow, probably urging his team to hurry up.

 

[Ariel Yvarro]

​

Deephaven, Tholon​

​

Tholon had requested membership and in so doing would have the Moff Council arrive to help negotiatiate such a thing. Ariel had asked Fevris Derzelas to come along, Ariel felt strongly that the good doctor would do well in the realm of politics and if her work on Mephout and Seoul were of any proof it was that the doctor was quite capable of adapting to different situations at a moments notice. Whispers of Tholon's rather unsavory sort filtered its way through to security. ​

​

Armed guards and a knight or two never hurt, at least Ariel thought so anyway. She would be brought to the meeting in her own car and have the opportunity to take a look at Tholon with her own eyes. If this system was going to champion an entirely new sector, it was going to need a lot of work - but work was good, for everyone. Ariel looked over at the doctor and smiled, "I am glad you've decided to join us here, I believe it will do us all some good to have you in the room." After all, the medical professional always seemed to have a level head. ​

​

Renata Westaway | Quinlan Reade ​

 

[Ares Havelock]

[Theme]
​

The Director's mask had been pieced together from the ruins of miner's masks during the occupation of Tholon by the Ssi-Ruuk Imperium, polished and crafted into a coherent look over time. It was, therefore, more than just a mask. The Director had seen it as a symbol of the unified people of Tholon under the rule of the workers. That the leader of the Workers Republic wore such a mask served not just to anonymize him, Ares Havelock, as 'The Director', but had democratized the Republic. It wasn't about him, or even the government. It was about all the workers finally getting their due. The mask was to show that all workers had a place at the table.

It was more than a mask, which was why Ares had struggled so much to part with it.

But with wanted posters showing the mask going up all over the city, and it being the most recognizable part of his identity, he'd had to surrender it. He'd given the mask to his bodyguard with instructions to wear it while sneaking offworld, and faded into the mass of workers in Deephaven, once again just a common citizen.

Well... a common citizen with many fanatical partisans at his command. They had already begun the contingencies. Bombs planted at various points in the tunnels beneath the surface that, when triggered, would cause the tunnels to collapse, sealing the people within inside. Yes, miners would die and those who survived would suffer the economic consequences, but that was a sacrifice Ares Havelock was willing to make to prove a point: that Tholon's resources should belong to those who toil to retrieve them, not to fatcat plutocrats or aristocrats or to a galactic government seeking dominion over the planet. It would prove the point that there was a blood cost for exploiting a world like Tholon.

It would be a black eye on Quinlan Reade's so-called government and on Renata Westaway and her precious First Order's attempts to bring Tholon into the fold.

Now he had to find a way to escape the manhunt currently underway for him. Under any other circumstances he wouldn't have been worried. Very few people knew his face; trusted lieutenants only, none of whom would give him up if they had a choice. Even the staff at the royal residence had never seen him without his mask. But there had been one slip... one error on his part. Isobel Nakano, the First Order agent that he had kept at the royal residence, had stumbled upon him in an inopportune moment, and had possibly seen his face.

And then she had slipped through his fingers.

Nakano was subject to another one of his contingencies. If she blew his cover, he had plenty of photographs and videos from her stay in Deephaven to blow hers. She'd be known to every criminal element from Dosuun to Coruscant, rendering any of her forged identities irrelevant. It was a point that he had made clear to her in the moments following his own exposure. Whether she would take heed of his warning was anyone's guess, but at least he had warned her.

Havelock stood on the balcony of the safehouse flat, watching the city come to life. The night shift miners and refinery workers were returning home, and the morning shift workers shuffling to take their place. In the distance, the royal residence was blazing light. No doubt to welcome First Order dignitaries, he thought with a sneer. The papers had been full of it for days, with photos and details of Renata Westaway, now the First Order's Foreign Secretary, on the front pages. If he thought he could get away with it, he'd have found her hotel and gutted her like a fish there and then.

His comlink chirped, taking away from his violent thoughts. He activated it. "Havelock."

"Boss, I thought you'd want to see this. Sending the attachment now." His comlink buzzed again and he lowered it to download the attachment. On the screen, the image of a digial wanted poster materialized, this one being projected onto the side of a building. Have you seen this man? 10,000 Credit Reward for Information Leading to the Capture of 'The Director'. Beneath the blaring headline was a composite sketch of himself.

"Not very flattering, is it, Krebb?"

"Boss?"

"See if we can disrupt them. In the meantime, I'll have to be careful going out. I'm heading for the Diamond Club to see about my forged papers. Meet me there." He disconnected the call and once again looked at the wanted poster. "That kriffing schutta," he spat, his grip tightening on the comlink so hard it nearly shattered. He pulled on a hooded jacket and left the safehouse, heading for the Diamond Club, a seedy 24-hour nightclub that provided workers with cheap booze, good stims, and the company of a lady (or gentleman, or whatever else the worker might prefer) for a reasonable fee. The Duros family that owned the place were also well-known in the underworld community for making good forgeries of official documents. If anyone could help him escape this dragnet, it would be them.

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

​

Agent Sahani was still an unknown element among the partisan ranks. The Director's face had flooded Intelligence, hunting him would now be their priority. She had no doubt that the Special Command Operations that once aided the rebels would now turn to envelop Deephaven. If that hadn't been enough, Sahani pressed a hand to the commlink in her ear. Elements of the First Imperial Army would be touching down soon enough creating a perimeter in which to capture the Director. Deephaven wasn't like any of the other cities she had known or been in and its unique features would play more into the hand of the Director she was sure.

Still, she wouldn't give up the chase that easily. The underground city was massive, and to most foreigners would no doubt be something of a labyrinth. The advantage here was that the First Order had been to this place before all it took was a bit of remapping. Dressed in partisan gear, Sahani followed some of the loyalists, those who believed wholeheartedly in the Director. She slipped her mask on and activated the holographic disguise and proceeded with her agenda; getting close enough to the Director.

​

Lt. Colonel Caceres directed his men to respond to Colonel Omari Ngao , more specifically Lieutenant Cho a fresh from the academy face who had just secured his helmet. Cho got on comms and relayed the information, "destinations are being linked up to you Colonel, landing zones are secure." Caceres had his men organizing themselves, linking up with various medical personnel and members of the First Imperial Rapid Response teams as they secured helmets and worked out a plan to get in and get out as quickly as possible. "Starfighters are bringing down transports, we will relocate the miners here to Point Pilsen." Caceres gestured to the location that had been projected on a holographic map of the region.

Point Pilsen was far enough from the area that should something happen they would be safe, "however if we have anyone who is severely wounded route them here to Setenil. While we should be relatively safe, keyword here is relatively. Reports of those loyal to the Director may still show their faces here, I want all of you to stay alert and keep your eyes opened." Setenil was off to the west but still a safe enough distance. At least safe enough by the Imperial Corps of Engineers' standards, the thing with underground places - everything was connected.

Caceres snapped to attention once Colonel Ngao had arrived, afterward, he gave his report to the Colonel. All that was necessary now was for EOD to arrive so that they could move out and disarm any explosives that they came across. Smaller details would push ahead of the main body to mark the explosives, EOD would disarm - the rest of them would work to get the miners out to safety.

Lucius Vinticus | Wes Gryffon | DG-4582
​

 

[Wes Gryffon]

Objective: 3
Tags: Lucius Vinticus | DG-4582 | Resurgent Narrative

​

Wes looked around slowly.

His first job as Captain was on a world that was petitioning to join the First Order. The task itself was an evacuation, the evacuation of miners from the planets mine systems. Wes didn't know much except that the intelligence had found some explosives in said mines.

He couldn't say he was surprised at how fast The First Order operated. He was however surprised that he had hardly any time to get used to his ship or his crew and he was instantly dispatched to the planet of Tholon to assist in the evacuation.

It was a difference change of pace, how fast The First Order moved. He couldn't deny that he was enjoying it, he'd bond with his ship and his crew on the job. It would have to be done eventually, there was no better time to do it than in the thick of it.

The Captain stepped from the shuttle, feet pressed against the floor, the earth of the planet.

Around him, transports and shuttles were taking off and landing. Wes had ordered all transports and shuttles from his cruiser to the surface of the planet. They would be used to transport the miners away from the wines to somewhere where they'd be safe.

He saw two Stormtroopers look at him and offer a slight salute. Wes sent a nod back in their direction in return and strolled towards the makeshift operations center that he and his men had set up. It was good enough to coordinate the shuttles and the safety of the miners.

"Anyone got a report? What's going on down there?"

 

[Lucius Vinticus]

Objective- 3
Post 1
Mission: Escort EOD, Evacuate Miners

Lucius eyes flickered behind his visor as the elevator leading into the bowels of the tunnels moved methodically downward, slowly passing untold millennia of geologic data as they did. Scattered around the service elevator were the rest of Lucius's Squad, the accompanying EOD element, and the foreman responsible for this particular section of the complex. Staff Sergeant Paixao stood next to the foreman with the E.O.D Lieutenant Moore, motioning and discussing what the PFC assumed were routes and potential locations of unfound devices. Some of the older troopers looked uncomfortable, tense in their armor. It was the sort of thing that was only noticed by other troopers, imperceptible unless you really knew the armor and the people in it.

Dosuun.

Lucius had missed those years of fighting because of his age, but the occasional stories from the old timers left one amazed that anyone who'd made it through that was still serving. The tunnels would haunt those beings the rest of their natural lives. Paixao was one of those, but didn't show it like some of the others. As a squad leader he didn't have the headspace to share with the past, encouraging his squad to look ahead similarly.

Story was that the agents of chaos were at it again. The ever present spectre that flew across the galaxy like an ideological plague, denying natural law and good sense at every turn. Infecting the more malleable gray matter it touched with a mindvirus that whispered promises of freedom but delivered only dissolution and corruption. Lucius couldn't help the cold anger that stirred when he thought of the harm brought to the galaxy by beings left to their own delusions.

The grand, youthful criticism of his enemy's ideology was interrupted by a screeching metal CLANK as the elevator settled in the base at the end of the cut out earth that surrounded the group. Grated doors retracted into the frame of the contraption, opening up to an empty hallway, with various colors of painted lines snaking into other corridors off the main line.

Moore, Paixao, and the Foreman moved off the elevator first. The Fireteams moved in their respective orders, weapons at a tense low ready. Lucius focused up and followed, blaster rifle at the ready and mind honed. Any detail or shadow out of place would warrant a potential bolt. Miners weren't supposed to still be in this section.

Resurgent Narrative Wes Gryffon DG-4582 Omari Ngao

 

[Omari Ngao]

Obj 3

He simply stood and observed the readying group of EOD technicians while he awaited confirmation on where he was sending his men. When he heard a voice cut through the dead silence, his mind wandered briefly, to when times were simpler. Or perhaps, bloodier. Those days were behind him, but only by a handful of years. The scars from back then were faded, some removed entirely through medical divinations, but others replayed in his mind.

But then a voice cut through his thoughts and he was brought back to the present, thankfully.

"Confirmed," he'd reply to Cho before returning to the world around him.

Caceres' snap to attention and immediate get to business attitude was greeted with an amused look from the over seven foot soldier.

"We've maybe... Two platoons here worth of marines, not including support staff," he ventured to say with the goal of recalling those under his command. There could've been more with the coming and going of a shuttle every few minutes. "Get me three patrol squads sweeping these areas." Nodding over to the holographic display, he zoomed in on the display to where their base camp and with a leading index finger drew a small ring around the base camp they were currently in and then two others; one a half mile out, the second two miles out. "They'll be spread thin and there'll be gaps, but the escort TIEs above should spot anything coming our way regardless."

And when he opened his mouth to dismiss the group, he paused and added, "Loyalists forces could also be mixed in with the miners. I want a few of the mine's supervisors watching for anyone they don't recognize."

Lucius Vinticus Wes Gryffon Resurgent Narrative

 

[The Major]

They were uncomfortable, squirming in seats too small for armor and tactical gear more layered than anything she encountered thus far. Because she was among them, potentially endangering them, their equipment loadout would have to be part of the price of her companionship. Her presence made these troopers fidget, made them nervous. Perhaps words of assurance would soothe the temperament of these soldiers. The Major’s mouth opened only to fail to purport anything of substance. She tried again. A silent gasp. Again. Nearly a shudder passed her lips. In response, one of the soldiers noticed the struggle playing upon the woman’s mouth -that struggle between intent and execution- and in their eagerness to increase the odds of survivability subsequently tensed, instinctively allowing their finger to hover ever closer to that fateful mechanism, that little piece of plasteel which helped cosign one to oblivion.

This was enough of a gesture, however subtle, to cause her to resign any further attempts at conciliation with those occupying the same deployment bay. It was safer to not trust in her ability - a better investment in their future to assume the Major was potentially hostile. She could not blame their trepidation. She could not even trust in herself.

Alas, such was the sad state she now called home. All was not terrible; all was not lost.

Her benefactors in the First Order had treated her kindly up until now. Yes, there were many questions -some more pressing than others, some more tense than others, and many were the tests administered. But ultimately she felt them to be kind. Understanding, perhaps. Tolerant, more like. She was their patient, and under their care they seemed to endeavor to pierce the encroaching fog that made up her mind. The very least she could do was follow their requests and assist in whatever manner they deemed appropriate. Doing so gave her a sense of purpose, a guide through the darkness.

As the bay opened, light and smells of the colony began to fill her senses.

::Move to the new position. Stay in formation:: Barked a trooper.

She fell in line. As they fanned out she went over the objectives in her mind.

-The Director was a criminal at large and wanted for custody.
-Her platoon was tasked with holding a position upon a main thoroughfare.
-They were to detain any suspicious individuals.
-They were to await further instructions.

Yes. Simple. Although it occurred to her that her platoon was more of a visual deterrent, insofar that they arrived openly and their bright white armor was clearly visible. So far they remained unmolested by any threat, and this relieved a tiny ball stabbing in her chest. It was a tiny success in her book.

::Hold here. Stay alert.:: Spoke the platoon leader. She complied, along with her cohort, eyes scanning the street for any breakage of the peace.

Ares Havelock Resurgent Narrative




​

 

[Juliana Alderdice]

"The power system in this part of the complex is extremely unreliable," the auburn-haired woman, Delilah Graham, was telling the grouped volunteers as she indicated a map. "Though it is among the deepest, it is also among the oldest by virtue of it being one of the first deep-digs into Tholon. Obviously, we can't get any vehicles or vessels down this shaft. It has suffered cave ins and collapses numerous times, so the structures of the wall are, as far as we can tell, brittle. And along with the power system, the communications system is still spotty. As a consequence, we haven't been able to raise anyone from within Sector Aurek Zero Seven One. We need volunteers to make their way down this shaft to the settlements and alert the residents there of the threat and coordinate evacuation. Any takers?"

Juliana lifted her hand. "I'll do it."

* * * * *
​

Twenty minutes later, Juliana and some volunteers were riding down the creaking freight elevator. When it reached the bottom, she pulled her backpack and stepped off the rickety, rusty platform. She found herself in the cavernous cargo depot that made up the first phase of this section of the shaft; there were still disused plasteel crates of varying sizes littering the space. The power was tenuous at best; the lighting panels flickered on and off, occasionally plunging the space into total darkness. Juliana wasn't counting on having to use her flashlight early, but luckily she had another source of light.

The blade of her lightsaber erupted from the hilt, bathing Juliana's fair features in the pale blue light. The light it offered wasn't enough to illuminate the space, but when she held it just so she could see the ground in front of her so she didn't trip or smash her shins into the crates. Juliana lifted her datapad and examined the map. "This way I think," she said over her shoulder, then gestured with her lightsaber.

When they came to the A-701 tunnel, she thought she heard a skittering behind her, but when she turned back to look, the cavern was dark. "Let's stay close," she said. "And be careful... the downward grade is not terribly steep, but the floor panels don't sit smoothly and in some cases they're missing." As they went down the slowly spiraling descending shaft, Juliana heard the skittering again, then a high-pitched squeal somewhere far away, echoing through the tunnels.

Hell, she thought, tightening her grip on her saber.

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

​

The Concordia entered the system with part of a token force of ships with her including Masayu Kimura 's Redoubt. Not too far out had been the Viscount commanded by the newly integrated Wes Gryffon and with him an even smaller token of ships. The Navy's primary objective was to secure the system and begin sweeps for the Director and any of his loyalist. Commander Tae Sun-Shin recieved a notification of the Viscount asking for a report. She gave them a reply over encrypted communications:

:: Starfighter Corps will be the primary eyes in the sky for the Stormtrooper Corps. Naval priority is to secure the system, and scan each and every ship going in and out of the system. Any loyalists are to be stopped and apprehended, the Director should he be found aboard any ship must be handed over to Intelligence. Medical vessels are on hand to evacuate the most critical of patients out of Tholon. FIMS and FIRR have set down onto the surface and will coordinate with military forces on the ground. ::​

​

Ambulatory cutters, and medical frigates positioned themselves at the Viscount's rear ready to be deployed at a moments notice. The Concordia's role would be ever so different, if slightly. They were there to ensure that everything went smoothly under the ever so watchful gaze of Her Majesty Natasi Fortan .

​

Caceres while shorter by at least a foot than his CO, kept it to business. A stormtrooper platoon being spread thin wasn't unheard of, rather it was something to become accustomed to. As Colonel Ngao gave his orders, Caceres excuted them and the sound of betaplast armor brushing together could be heard as men and women were reorganized and dispersed. The man got another look at the map and followed the CO's motion, Ngao was correct there would be gaps - gaps that the Starfighters would no doubt cover. "Coordinate and communicate with one another."

Lieutenant Cho gave a nod of acknowledgment on the the additional orders to have the mine's supervisors watching for those they didn't recognize. There was an element here, a knowing that the loyalist forces would not so easily cede their home to the First Order without a fight. Albeit this one wasn't as up front as others had been in the past. EOD teams by this point would have moved into the mines, and the First Imperial Knights had their orders - ones Cho was sure he wouldn't want.

When the meeting had been dismissed he was quick to head out toward one or two of the supervisors that he could see. Meanwhile, Caceres would be heading into the mines himself. His helmet secured, F-11D ready if necessary, and as he pressed toward the mines he watched as the patrol groups discussed and enacted their route. Colonel Ngao's orders being carried out to the letter confident that Lieutenant Cho would radio him if he was needed, Caceres descended into the mines.

Omari Ngao | Wes Gryffon | Lucius Vinticus | DG-4582 ​

 

[Ares Havelock]

He kept his head down as he walked through the streets of Deephaven, his blaster strapped to his thigh and his hood half-covering his face. He tried to blend in with the workers, slipping along in the wake of the group in front of him. The Diamond Club was several blocks from the safehouse, on the edge of the Duros Quarter, but it looked like his plans might have hit a snag. There was a checkpoint ahead, stopping passersby to check identifications, from what it looked like. He bit back a curse and stopped, trying to make it appear as normal and natural as possible.

There was a news-stand on the other side of the street. He crossed over and went to the news-stand. "Uh... one of the Worker's Standard, please," he said, casting a glance over his shoulder briefly as he reached into his pocket for a few coins, which he handed over to the shopkeeper. "They been there long?" he asked, nodding towards the checkpoint.

"A while," said the Twi'lek dismissively. He handed over the papers. "Looking to avoid... Imperial entanglements?"

"You might say," said Havelock. The Twi'lek jerked his head towards the alley behind his left shoulder. Ares raised an eyebrow, then nodded and pressed another coin into the the Twi'lek's palm. "Thanks."

The Twi'lek waited until Havelock had disappeared into the alleyway, then walked up to the checkpoint, approaching The Major . "Guy didn't want to go through the checkpoint. Thought that might be of interest to you," he said. "Or to be more clear, of value." He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Resurgent Narrative | Isobel Nakano​

 

[Quinlan Reade]

Renata Westaway | Ariel Yvarro | Fevris Derzelas
-
​

The Royal Residence was in disarray, hastily risen tables and folding chairs scattered about. Rubble and dust filled the corners of the main atrium, a few spots of carbon scorching yet to be buffed out remained from the recent coup - it was here the Director had pitched his tent and held a First Order Agent hostage. It was here the man had taken up residence and implemented his short but terrible tenure as leader of the Tholonian people. It was a strange feeling calling it his home once again, hardly anything save the unmolested layout remained the same as when he'd left those years ago. He chuckled quietly to himself. This hardly looks like a residence. It reminded him of the Ssi-Ruuvi invasion, or at least the first few weeks. Holed up in their homes, keeping back the saurian hordes day after day until they couldn't anymore.

A quick glance about the atrium sated his concern for the time being, numerous slung blasters and hired guards milled about. The intelligence his own operatives of the former Resistance had returned suggested the Director was weakened beyond making an assault, especially against the villa itself but if the last several months had taught Quinlan anything it was not to underestimate evil.

To the newly appointed Governor Reade's credit, he'd managed to shower, clean himself up, and eek out a paltry six hours of sleep the evening prior. His first attempt at dressing himself had nearly put his assistant Theodra in a tiff. "You can't show up in that, what are you, still living on the street?!" The woman was tenacious if nothing else and Quinlan knew she had his best interests in mind - his attire quickly changed for a more formal setting. A quiet chirp emanating from his pocket indicated an incoming transmission. "Go ahead." he spoke as he retrieved the comm link with one hand. "Governor Reade Sir, the First Order delegation has arrived." A slight pause permeated the communication. "And? Show them in." he spoke through tensed jaw. "Right away sir." the reply came.

Outside a veritable army of hired mercenaries and rough looking Tholonians stood watch, blasters, clubs, and other strange looking implements that could only be guessed at in hand as they watched the First Order vehicle with caution. One of the cleaner looking ones stepped forward, eyes darting first from Renata to the man beside her, then to the vehicle pulling up behind them.

"Ma'am. Sir." he motioned towards the ornate walkway leading up to the villa itself. "More of your party?" he nodded behind where they stood. "If you'll follow me." As the small entourage stepped towards the main atrium Quinlan busied himself with the latest intelligence reports, taking up a seated position on the wide sweeping staircase to one side. They would find him there, poring through the info displayed on a datapad, features furrowed in thought.

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

​

Tanileu breathed in and breathed out, the rough air of the underground city bit back. She was nervous, even though their last operation had been successful she still maintained that something bad had to be around the corner. FOSOC was on hand sifting through the masses that were just trying to go about their day. Oh sure, they had overthrown one government and put in another, but they still needed to make their coin. Sovereigns had already been introduced between then and now, she ran an aeroes through her fingers as she casually followed a crowd of people heading into the shops.

Everything was quiet so far, she surveyed the shops and found nothing of note or interested and slipped out. Still running that three-coin through her fingers. The silver color of the coin glinted in whatever light it found, triangular in shape the aeros was a nice distraction. She wore a hooded jacket, tough workers pants, and had the belt of a metalsmith about her person. She wandered down one street and around another, more checkpoints were being put into place the army was starting to press into the city.

This meant that perhaps the alleys of the city would become a haven for the rats...

​

Agent Sahani watched from the rooftops under the lights of the city as the army pressed in. The sound of TIES in the distance told her that the operation to evacuate personnel from the mines was underway. She grabbed a tabac stick from the inside of her leather jacket and placed it between her lips. After it was lit, she took her binocs and headed to a small perch where she could get a better look at the labyrinth of a city below. There was a rush associated with smoking, but for Sahani it calmed her nerves.

"Increase the checkpoints, start searching warehouses, go street by street - we need him found, now." Sahani ordered her agents as she adjusted the view on her binocs. Tabac stick between her fingers, an illuminous orange glow as whatever passed for wind flicked at its edge. What was a noxious odor to some was aromatic for Sahani. By now FOSOC was on the ground aiding in the search for the Director - and she hoped that the government was working with the newly installed governor to welcome the planet into their little Imperial family.

Isobel Nakano | The Major | Ares Havelock | Ryker Atreides | Nima Vantoon ​

 

[Ryker Atreides]

Ares Havelock | The Major
-
​

Strictly speaking, Ryker wasn't here. No official record, no official orders. Not even a requisition order to his name - of course that mattered little to the man swinging from the vaulted chain hoist in the room, his bare feet dangling just above the cold wet duracrete. A weary duo rest seated in the corner of the dank basement of some industrial facility or another. If it had a name the Storm Commando certainly didn't know it. That wasn't his goal though, his objective, his responsibility. Instead he had been tasked to complete a mission that two of the Imperial Army's best couldn't. Unlike his contemporaries Sgt. Atreides once again found himself adorned in non-regulation gear, a hastily procured blast vest and a pair of workman's coveralls rolled to the waist. He'd managed to gain access to the facility easy enough, a few guards waving him past into a long hallway. At its end, a large metal door. Two loud knocks echoed as the metal reverberated with the force, a grunt from the other side indicating his inquiry had been acknowledged.

Metal grating on metal filled his ears as the door opened revealing the two interrogators and their subject, an expression of brief confusion followed by fearful recognition as the man stepped back and beckoned. "H-He's right here. Uh, he's not giving us anything." A scowl from the Storm Commando. "Step aside." he stated, pushing the man out of the way as he stepped to only several inches from the man's face. Blood. Sweat. Piss. Ryker could smell the very essence of fear emanating from the Tholonian before him. "My friends tell me you've been... Uncooperative." he said in almost a singsong way. "Perhaps we can come to a more beneficial understanding?" he raised an eyebrow, a cruel twitch at the corner of his lips developing. "Tell us what we want to know and we can let you go - In fact, I can even get you off this planet where you can disappear into whichever slum suits your kind."

The Tholonian groaned, red eyes rising to meet Ryker's. "No I... I can't. You don't..." Ryker interrupted. "I don't what... understand?" he asked mockingly. "Oh. I understand. You are about to."

 

[Lucius Vinticus]

Objective- 3
Post 2
Mission: Escort EOD, Evacuate Miners

The dimly lit corridor reflected grime from the duracrete floor that was poured along it's length. Yellow light unreliably shined from along disturbed electrical connections, flickering on occasion. The foreman began to sweat as they moved along the blue painted path, towards maintenance. According to the Intel team the main maintenance bay for the section served as a sort of keystone for other areas above it, meaning horrible consequences for all if a high enough grade explosive was appropriately placed. Foreman had seem something shiny before the evacuation.

Lucius and his fellows had activated their headlamps to cope with the fluxing electricity. There was always the chance that a saboteur could have hung back, waiting to add some final touch that had been forgotten or otherwise delayed. The Colonel had echoed as much through their squad leader on the battlenet. Sets of eyes scanned the pathways with a practiced alertness. Tools and equipment lined the way, everything from pickaxes to jackhammers. All abandoned when the alert had come down.

The corridor opened up into a large area with much higher ceilings and racks of equipment and replacement parts for the machines that operated daily throughout the mines. Forklifts, excavators, scissor lifts, and other sat dormant among the general clutter of the floor. The nervous foreman pointed to a large steel container that appeared mounted on the roof of the room. Lucius thought it looked similar to a large junction box. Morris and the Staff Sergeant scoffed at the foreman. The Squad Leader spoke first, as he directed Vinticus and the Light Machine gunner to get a scissor lift for Morris.

"Which genius was running this floor when someone mounted that box?"

The Foreman turned scarlet before uttering a forgettable excuse about a superior signing off on it, which only invited further beration from the trooper.

Lucius had spent years operating similar equipment in his parents' facilities, quickly wheeling Morris and the gunner up to the box that was probably a bomb. Fear was quickly pushed to the side as the lift climbed. No time for that if you want to live. Morris quickly and efficiently took the cover off the box, revealing charges backfed into the plants grid, controlled by a micro inverter to prevent the charges from detonating. Lucius gave a brief, silent prayer as Morris began digging into the wiring.

Resurgent Narrative Omari Ngao Juliana Alderdice DG-4582

 

[Renata Westaway]

Renata had her misgivings about the men and women that populated the royal residence, but she was comforted in her knowledge that not too long ago in the scheme of things, she had looked much like them and for the same reasons. These were the men and women that populated Reade's resistance, and it was natural that they had come with him to the royal residence. She gathered that he trusted them. That made sense. It was hard to find people to trust and when you did, you did well to keep them around.

"Thank you," said Renata. "I think Moff Yvarro will be along presently."

She was shown into the atrium where she found herself face-to-face (more or less) with Quinlan Reade for the first time since her harrowing ordeal on the world of Tholon. She smiled broadly when she saw him and approached, hand outstretched to shake. "Mr. Reade," she said happily. "Or I should say, Governor Reade. It's good to see you again. I'm pleased to see you came out of it... as well as can be expected." Slightly awkward, for though Reade was no in charge of Tholon and had survived, his younger sister had been killed by the Director.

"First Order forces are working with your local security and police to find the Director. I promise you that we will not rest until we have him in custody. He will stand trial for his crimes. Crimes that, I understand you've been briefed, have yet to cease. Our intelligence service is investigating the reports of the bombs in the tunnels and facilitating an evacuation in the event of a worse-case scenario." She paused and then gestured to her private secretary. "This is my principal private secretary, Niles Reardon, I believe your office communicated with him to set up this discussion. My aide, Frieda, sends her regards but was unable to attend. She is on leave for some personal matters."

This, too, was a diplomatic fib. Frieda had refused hands-down to return to the planet, and her regards were rather more profane than Renata was willing to let on, including suggestions about just what Quinlan Reade could do with several hundred thousand tonnes of Doonium. The Foreign Minister did not share her aide's distaste for Reade; in fact, she rather liked the man and admired his tenacity, the kidnapping notwithstanding. She kept the wide, genuine smile as she looked around the room curiously. "My colleague Moff Yvarro will be along presently."

Ariel Yvarro | Resurgent Narrative | Quinlan Reade​

 

[Ariel Yvarro]

Ariel and Fevris Derzelas ' car pulled up toward the royal residence without incident of that Ariel was grateful. Guards flanked both the doctor and the moff as they exited the car and approached the residence. She arrived dressed plainly in a black moff's uniform, there wouldn't be much for her to say at least initially, this would be Renata Westaway 's show, Ariel was here for insurance. The doctor was here as practice, for if this woman would be Ariel's choice as the Minister of Health it would be good to know that they could handle diplomatic situations. ​

​

She had only just heard Renata mention that she would be along, "and here I am." Moff Yvarro said with a smile. "Moff Ariel Yvarro, and this is Doctor Fevris Derzelas of the Medical Services. We are quite pleased to be here Governor Reade, isn't it?" At least that's what the reports stated so she hoped she addressed him appropriately. Ariel took a moment to survey the room around her and offered a warm, reassuring smile that at the very least came across as sincere. ​

​

Quinlan Reade ​

 

[Phoenix Edorath]

Nearby: Kurayami Bloodborn , Gotz Redwall
Creative Soundtrack: Shinedown "Enemies"

---------------------------------------

Captain Edorath.

The words still rang peculiarly in her ears, in spite of the designation freshly etched into the nameplate of her armor. Phoenix stretched slightly as she stood and ensured her DC-17m was strapped to her back in its rifle mode. Fingers carefully secured her sidearm on her right thigh in it's holster, the DC-15s slightly scarred from the last mission. Her usual array of blades were tucked into sheaths on her left thigh. Even odder than the new rank and armor, was the fact that she had no explosives, save for the ever-present det tape carefully secured to her belt.

She sighed softly, casting a glance to Ami over her shoulder. "I feel naked without a pack of explosives strapped to my back. This is weird." Phoenix wrinkled her nose and mock-pouted at her friend. The ramp lowered and she started making her way down, gaze cast across the landing pad, ensuring nothing and no one was out of place given the intel they were given on approach.

The woman returned the salute of the soldier that met them and handed her a small datapad before rushing back to their other duties. Frowning, Phoenix glanced down to the screen, scrolling through the information. There were bits of information and pieces of relevant reports on the current state of the hunt for the Director. There had been at least one credible sighting, with operatives being sent in to verify the information. She, however, had been assigned to checkpoint duty, which wasn't the most exciting of duties, but a critical one given the net they were tightening around the city.

She just wished she could blow something up in the mean time.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

​

Bleary-eyed and wired on caff, Isobel sat in a security van, staring at a computer screen. Her eyes felt dry and tired; she hadn't slept over twenty-four hours and her body and head ached, but she had an important task, or so Delilah Graham had said. First, she had sat with a composite sketch artist and given the best description she could manage. Then, she had plopped down in front of a computer to review grabs that the Bureau AI monitoring surveillance were pulling based on matches to the sketch. The sketch was not perfect, and it wasn't so specific as to rule most people out, so she was looking at dozens of images an hour.

It got monotonous after awhile, and Isobel tried to keep herself awake with caff, but caff couldn't do much to keep her mind on her task, so it occasionally wandered. She wondered what her sister was up to on Atrisia. She thought about what she'd like to have for breakfast. And, as she usually did in quiet moments of downtime, she wondered where Val Pellian was, and hoped that he was somewhere safe. It seemed unlikely, given their shared line of work, but a girl could dream. In fact, she thought as she glanced at the picture, The Director had a strong resemblance to Val facially. It had caught her off guard and seared into her memory.

She did a slow blink, moisturizing her eyes, then opened them again and resumed her perusal.

Then, like a thunderbolt, there it was. The match was partial, and the top of his face was obscured, but the jawline and mouth and nose were visible. Adrenaline seized her and her pulse pounded in her ear. She picked up her comlink, dialing into the Bureau channel. "This is Lotus," she said. "I have a partial match at the corner of Hornwright Lane and Third Avenue. Looks like he purchased newspapers at a news stand and then went down an alleyway off of Third, heading south. Pulling up a map now."

She pulled a map up on her datapad and flicked it to the screen above the desk, then highlighted that area. "Looks like the alley forms a ninety-degree angle and connects with Hornwright beyond the checkpoint. Sending the image out to all forces. Suspect is in a dark green hooded jacket and grey workers' pants and dark brown boots." Isobel muted her mic. "Get me access to the camera feeds along Hornwright. Let's see if we can find him."

Resurgent Narrative | The Major | Ryker Atreides | Nima Vantoon​