Maybe, it's a trap?

[Iris Tyrad]

It has been two days since Iris had received the anonymous message, not thinking much of it at first, Iris merely slipped it into an unused part of his ships computer, where it would probably lay dormant until later in the future. Iris initially thought it was just someone trying to sell him something. As always.

Finally however, on a day when Iris was hungover with a severe headache, from the night in the Cantinas of Courscant, the message caught the eye of the droosy Merc. Since Iris hadn't checked it before, he figured it could've of been a winning lottery ticket! Or even a well paying job!

As Iris opened the message he was filled with disappointed. The words read "Meet me on Relovian.". Letting out a large sigh, Iris thought who would've wanted him on Relovian. He didn't know anyone from there, or anyone who would've been there, maybe it was an ambush? Maybe the message had been sent to the wrong person? Iris didn't know, the only thing he had gained from this message was utter confusion.

However, at the bottom of the message, was more writing, writing Iris had almost missed, it was only two words. This word was "Wirch Bicket", obviously someone's name. Who's name though? Iris didn't know, never heard of him in fact, but at least he would know who would be waiting for him at Relovian. Now Iris had a choice, stay in Coruscant where he'd be safe, or travel to Relovian, and have a chance of being ambushed or a smaller chance to find some work. Of course, Iris went with the second option, he loved the feeling of being in danger. Some may call him an adrenaline junkie, which he was.


Soon enough Iris and his ship, The Hornet, were in the air and out of Coruscant's Atmosphere, heading for Relovian. Entering the coordinates into his ship Iris sat back and engaged the hyperdrive. He would get there in no time.

The ship slowing from the extreme hyperspace speed woke Iris from his deep sleep, the planet that lay in front of him was Relovian. He'd never seen this giant before, but it was a beautiful world, well it was from orbit anyway. Being within range of sending a message to anyone on the planet that stood before him, Iris radioed in, asking for the Wirch Bicket who had contacted Iris two days back. Hopefully somebody would hear his call, and maybe transfer him over to Wirch, and then Iris would know just where'd he'd be going on Relovian.

[member="Wirch Bicket"]

 

[Wirch Bicket]

On the relatively small spacestation that orbited the planet, a man had been sitting asleep at his desk. As communications officer of a planet that didn't get much traffic, he found lots of time for other things to do, sleep being one of them. At first the sound of the communicator had been merely a sound in the back of his mind, then suddenly another noise snapped him out of the sleep. The door to the area opened and in walked his manager, she was a tall woman very business like and obviously upset. She could tell immediately what had happened, the drool on the deck gave him away pretty quickly. She spoke harshly, telling him to not fall asleep again. Threatening that she could have him sent to the frontline communication centers.

The man quickly turned on the message and read it through. "What? He wants to talk to him!" He said to himself.

This irritated the manager who snapped, "What is it? Move aside!" She read the message and the communications man read it as well. "But... How can he expect.....Who does he think....Why didn't he go......Blast it all! Get communications with the ground base closest to the Durasteel Fist territory. Wait belay that, get communications with Smuggler's Bane."

"Aye, aye mam." He replied, not wanting to disappoint again. This was interesting, the person who made the communication must not have realized the current political situation, which was precarious to say the least. He sent a reply to the effect that they were preparing to patch him through and that he would have to wait a moment.

While that was sent, the manage walked to her own communication command room. She would have to notify the Red Strikers of this. They would probably want to know what was going on, and who this stranger was. Meanwhile the communications officer tuned the communicator to that of the Smuggler's Bane, an asteroid that orbited the planet that also worked as a security slash communication network. "Smuggler's Bane, do you copy? We have an unidentified ship wishing to speak to Wirch... Wirch Bicket of the Durasteel Fist. Smuggler's Bane, Smuggler's Bane, do you copy?"

Due to the fact that the asteroid was farther ahead of the station orbit wise, there was static as the ten people on the Smuggler's Bane listened to the communication. One of them replied quickly, before the others could do anything, "We copy, Hemming Station. Will see what we can do. Is the ship military?"

The others were upset at this young woman's rashness. While technically each and everyone of them was allowed to use the communicator as needed without restriction, there was an unspoken code that all of them would agree on a message before sending any. She would likely be shunned for a small amount of time, but then they lived together for so long it would probably be only a few days before they were all laughing and talking again.

"Negative Smuggler's Bane. Ship is.... civilian by the look of it." He said looking through a magnification glass to see the ship far out there. "Can you establish communication planetside?"

This time the woman was stopped before she could reply. One of the elder gentlemen in the group took over, knowing what each person would say. "Hemming Station, we understand and will attempt to begin communications. Please hold while we attempt to find Wirch." With that the people on the lonely asteroid looked at one another, it would be tough finding a single man from the Smuggler's Bane, even tougher when the person they would be searching for was a campaigning soldier.

"Perhaps we should contact the Durasteel Fist directly."

"No. The situation down there is far too fragile for open communication to be accepted. Try the Red Striker communication post closest to the ocean near the Durasteel Fist territory. That tends to be Wirch's hunting grounds." One of the men said.

With that the ten people quickly patched the spacestation directly to a communication post. There a number of guards watched for a possible attack, by the very man that the communications officer was trying to reach. But as the officer there tried to quickly adjust his communicator to the known frequency, battle could be heard. Apparently Wirch had been planning an assault and had just begun it. If he had his way soon the battle would be completed before the communications officer could get to the emergency switch. Already he could hear the laser cannons of Wirch's battle platform battering the defense into nothingness.

In the meantime, the communications officer back on the spacestation sent a message asking about any contraband or other such. He then waited for a reply, completely unaware of the events unfolding below.

[member="Iris Tyrad"]

 

[Iris Tyrad]

Aboard his ship, Iris was getting increasingly more inpatient. He had made it very clear he wanted Wirch Bicket, but the only person he managed to reach was some communications officer who was stationed on a nearby space station. Even worse was the fact that this communications officer didn't even seem to know where Wirch was.

"No, no, no. I've told you this once, and I'll tell you again. I'm not carrying any illegal materials or substances." The agitated merc would say to the officer in reply to his question on the ships cargo. "Just get me Wirch, and we won't have any trouble."

First impressions counted to Iris, and the first impressions of this planet, Relovian, weren't good. It seemed Relovian's communications network was just trying to waste Iris' time. And Iris knew, time was money, two things he had neither of.

[member="Wirch Bicket"]

(OOC Note: Sorry, bit of a quick one, have to go out soon.)

 

[Wirch Bicket]

The officer could hear the agitation in this stranger's voice. This person definitely was not aware of the situation on the planet. He sent another message to the Smuggler's Bane asking for an update, however there was no response. The officer began sweating a little, it had been a long time since something other than a simple freight transport had come through and his inexperience was beginning to show quite badly. He could easily lose his job within the next few minutes, even faster if his manager walked in right now. He felt himself standing and pacing back and forth across the small room. This was bad, very bad. He was stuck with an upset person on the holo, couldn't patch him through to the person he was looking for, and he could do nothing about it.

----

Meanwhile on the planet's surface, Wirch walked into the communications center, his held a gun in each hand. He had that look about him, that he owned the place. Yet there was still fighting going on around him, men were firing and dieing around him. He smiled to himself as he reached the comm room, its door was shut, but not locked. Obviously the people inside had realized who they were dealing with and had tried to make as little physical resistance as possible. He heard the explosions of the blaster cannons outside firing, soon they would fall silent and he could focus on the matter of someone looking for him. He slid the guns back into his belt and opened the door.

Nobody tried to stop him as he moved through the entry and up to the young officer there. "You should really not use comms for communications. They are so easily intercepted and their codes cracked. Now who was it that was looking for me? I am on a tight schedule so smartly now." He spoke to the officer, who fidgeted under the gaze. One of the guards nearby moved to grab his gun, but Wirched displayed a white ribbon that was hung on his shoulder. The sign of truce, so easily thrown on yet outside the battle had almost finished in Wirch's favor. Few had died, he could take command, yet he stooped to the truce insignia in an attack. While the people in the room disagreed with what Wirch had done, they could do little. For the honor of the battlefield required that one under the banner of the truce was not to be harmed until negotiations were completed.

The young comm officer turned and reactivated the communications, sending the signal to the Smuggler's Bane reporting, "Sir, Wirch is here to speak. Apparently he had been aware of the request and made sure he did not keep us waiting."

With that the man stood aside and Wirch stepped into view of the comm. Without a word the crew on the Smuggler's Bane patched Wirch through to the station, and from there to the ship.

----

Wirch looked at the face of the man, he could not place it at the moment, but then he had been busy and his mind needed time to readjust. He looked questioningly at the figure, waiting for the conversation to be begun, as was customary in his mind. The one who did the seeking for a conversation would begin it.

[member="Iris Tyrad"]

 

[Iris Tyrad]

"Sir, Wirch is here to speak. Apparently he had been aware of the request and made sure he did not keep us waiting."

Finally, the seemingly useless communications officer had done something productive for Iris. They had got a hold of Wirch, took long enough with how important this man seemed to be.

However, now it was time to find out why he was summoned to this planet, and if he would leave. Iris hoped whatever Wirch Bicket wanted was worth the long travel and the situation with the officer. "Well hello Mr. Bicket," started Iris, trying to sound formal, though failing because of how he was still annoyed and how he had developed a new headache, "I believe you sent me a message a few days ba-" before finishing, Iris cut himself off.

It had only just occurred to Iris that Wirch Bicket might not even be the person listening. Iris didn't know him, and therefore didn't know if he was even real, this could be a trick, a trap.

"Before I continue, can we please meet in person? I don't like talking over comms."

[member="Wirch Bicket"]

 

[Wirch Bicket]

Wirch liked the man's thinking. For certain, the comm would be tapped as he himself had done to learn of the attempted comm. He would have done the same in his circumstances. He smiled appreciatively as he replied, "Of course. I will meet you at the capital of the Durasteel Fist, Vastitas. The spaceport should be empty so take whatever landing pad you'd like. See you down here."

He didn't wait for a response, it would take all speed on his part to reach the spaceport before this visitor did. He nodded to the men in the room before walking as quickly as he came, but not too quickly so that there was dignity. Once outside, there was his platform, apparently no casualties on his side. Good, they would make better time with more people. But even as he walked towards the mass of metal and machine, his own communication officer ran out to him, with a datapad in hand. He handed it to Wirch without a word. Wirch read the pad and handed it back to the officer. Apparently now there was even more of a rush. The Red Strikers had dispatched a battle platform to capture his, which meant that any moment he would have to get out of there quickly or face an overwhelming attack.

With that, Wirch yelled for his ship captain to get the ship ready to go. In a moment they were on their way and only a small scout ship had seen them. It would be awhile before anybody could catch them. Wirch just hoped that he would reach the spaceport in a suitable time.

[member="Iris Tyrad"]

 

[Iris Tyrad]

Now knowing where to go, Iris didn't waste any time to get there. Because of course, first impressions count. Flicking various switches on the ships HUD, the new ship entered the planets atmosphere heading for Vastitas, where a group called the Durasteel Fist were stationed. Though he didn't know this group or Wirch Bicket, and it could easily be a trap, Iris couldn't help but feel there was something genuine about him, something he could trust.

Being a very fast and manoeuvrable ship, The Hornet was able to get to the landing pads in next to no time at all. Hopefully Wirch would be there to meet Iris. Choosing to land on the centre landing pad, the merc, who was surprisingly good at flying, slowly, and steadily lowered the ship. Eventually, the ship found it's space on the pad, like Wirch said there was no other ships nearby, another sign that an ambush was not going to happen.

Powering down the rear mounted engines, Iris then opened the cargo bay doors at the back of the ship. The fresh air rushed into the cockpit and struck Iris, it was the first breath of Relovian's air Iris had taken and it felt good. Iris had never been keen with being cramped in spaceships for long periods of time, and the travel over the this planet was no acceptation. Stretching his long, muscular legs the cautious man stepped from his ship, hopefully someone would greet him shortly.

[member="Wirch Bicket"]

 

[Wirch Bicket]

Almost immediately a short stocky man entered the landing pad bay through a door. He appeared to be either the greeter, or the maybe the owner of the spaceport. Either way he couldn't possibly be Wirch, the strong voice, straight back, and the commanding eyes were not in this man. He looked as if all he wished to do was please this customer. "Hello, my good Sir!" He said, "Is there anything you would require?"

While this man had not the strength of the military, he would try to sell what he could. For few visitors came, just many freight transports. The blasted things were always given free passage by order of the Durasteel Fist government, as yet few tourists had ever visited the planet. And those that did come every time went to another city, like Barter Island, or the bloody mountain city.... Sapientia was its name. Now he had someone to work with, finally after so long a time.

-----


In the meantime, Wirch was speeding his way back to the city of Vastitas. He worked his men until there was nothing left to be done, they were on course and would be there in ten minutes at best. That scout ship was still following. But he could do little about that right now, his objective was of utmost importance. His future promotion could very well depend on these next few hours. The power that his commander had would hopefully soon be his. The company would fall to him, were anything to happen to his officer. Then maybe he would take advantage of the turn of events to capture the Red Strikers offguard and eventually take control of the planet. This was his chance, and he would take it and use it to his complete advantage.

In a few minutes he would be at the edge of the city and would begin making his way to the spaceport.

[member="Iris Tyrad"]

(OOC, sorry for taking so long)

 

[Iris Tyrad]

Before Iris was even able to greet the man who had approached him from spaceport, he was being integrated. "Is there anything you would require?" The man asked in a formal tone, Iris could tell it wasn't Wirch, mostly from the voice, but also from the sense of innocence that was eradicating off the man. Anyone who required Iris' services were not going to be any goody two shoes, as this man seemed to be.

"Yeah, ughh, Wirch Bicket told me to come down here." Iris said, in reply to the mans question. The Merc wondered why Wirch hadn't greeted him at the landing pad instead of this ill informed man, "Shouldn't he be down here?" The intimidating mercenary questioned the oblivious man.

Looking around the spaceport, it was a place Iris was not used to. Everything was clean and well made, not like the underbelly of Coruscant, where Iris had spent most he days. In fact the dirtiest thing at the spaceport was his ship, still stained with mould and other substances, it was an eye sore when surrounded by all this luxury.



[member="Wirch Bicket"]

 

[Wirch Bicket]

The man felt a little uncertainty at this, a compatriot of Wirch or someone who was to meet 'Highlander' would certainly be of importance. Which meant that he should be careful. But then this could be an opportunity to gain some reputation. Maybe then he could move to another spaceport, maybe the ones where the freighters come. He tried to sound more sure of himself as he continued, but he still sounded a little squeaky from excitement. "May I interest you in a ship general cleaning? It might help clear that ship of yours a little."

-----

Meanwhile Wirch was just about to enter the facility. He had had the captain of his ship prepare it for a special visitor. Which meant that there was going to be a salute, sherry, and probably some polite conversation before he could finally get rid of his men long enough to set up an actual contract with this man. Sometimes he wished that he could be less formal, but if he was his men may begin to ask questions then the confidentiality would snap and everyone would know and there would be rumors. He was prepared to enter, but a film crew intercepted him and began asking questions. Damn media. They had gotten wind of his recent attack, information traveled faster than light here. He took a few minutes to speak and try and shake off these pests.

[member="Iris Tyrad"]

 

[Iris Tyrad]

Dogding Iris' question, the man asked if the merc would want his ship cleaned. This made it clear that this probably was the spaceport owner, or atleast someone of authority. Again, looking back at his ship, Iris decided that it could use a clean, as far as Iris could tell, it had never had one since it had been modified.

"Yeah. I think it could use a good clean" Iris said, before turning back and glaring at the man "But DON'T go inside." The one reason Iris wouldn't want anybody inside was mostly due to all the fragile but important stuff in there, either from his active projects he was working on or his more dormant projects. To have any of these broken would annoy deeply.

[member="Wirch Bicket"]

 

[Wirch Bicket]

The owner was pleased, he whistled sharply and about a dozen people wearing basically rags walked out with cleaning tools. They immediately walked to the ship and began cleaning with an energy that surprised many people. They were the equivalent of their mining brothers and sisters, they had practically no rights, only some of the older ones could read, and none were trained for any sort of advanced work. They silently began working, for they knew only this life and were not aware of any other way of living.

Slavery was not what the Durasteel Fist called it, but that was what it was. They could not call it slavery, for that is illegal, but they could have indentured servants. Obviously it was not truly that, but they would call it that for the continued business that was most efficient when there was a free work force.

-------

Wirch finally dropped the crew and stepped into the dock, his dress uniform was neat and his many awards were arrayed splendidly on his chest. He coughed lightly to make himself noticed, but he waited for the spaceport owner to finish first. Obviously it would be impolite to interject right at the moment, as the owner was trying to take advantage of the first 'tourist' in quite some time. He felt that patience would best be shown now and then later it may be repaid with more rewards.

[member="Iris Tyrad"]

 

[Iris Tyrad]

The spaceport owner finished off by calling a team of men. With only tools in their hands and rags on their backs, the dozen men took to Iris' ship. They looked to be slaves, but they seemed pleased with what they were doing. Right now, Iris didn't know what to think Relovian, it seemed to be a very strange planet, foreign to the well travelled merc.

Hearing a cough from behind him, Iris gave a glance to that direction. Who stood there was a very well decorated man, medals on his chest, and a very neat uniform, that must've been Wirch Bicket. Concluding the brief conversation with the owner, Iris turned to the well dressed man. Displaying a hand ready for a handshake, the merc would introduce himself to the very formal, very honourable Wirch Bicket.

"Iris Tyrad, and you must be Wirch Bicket?"

[member="Wirch Bicket"]

 

[Wirch Bicket]

Wirch made a small bow saying, "At your service."

Normally the circumstances would call for more polite conversation before business, however Wirch was on a tight schedule. "Please come with me." He said in a subtly commanding tone, as he began to exit the bay. It would be a few minutes before they reached the ship, the conversation could be made during that time and then the business would be held onboard the platform. He could tell that the owner was practically cowering, for the way the man stepped away was of an dog that had been whipped.

----

The owner quickly moved away, he was afraid of the 'Highlander'. The name had been given to Wirch after he attacked a battle platform from above and then took a communications outpost again from the above. He feared that any failure on the owner's part would end his existence.

[member="Iris Tyrad"]

 

[Iris Tyrad]

Realising that Wirch wasn't going to shake the hand that Iris was holding out, the merc quickly slipped it back to his side. Wirch then began to exit bay, probably expecting Iris to follow, which he did.

Walking behind the well decorated, almost overdressed man, Iris began to wonder where they were heading. There wasn't any building around within walking distant where a meeting could be held, so Iris was left to wonder where they'd be heading. Admist the silence Iris began to speak, "Where abouts are we going?" Hopefully Wirch would answer, and put Iris' concerns to rest.

[member="Wirch Bicket"]

 

[Wirch Bicket]

Wirch answered in a conversational tone, "My ship. The Long-Yard. There we may be free of prying ears and eyes... How was the entry? I assume there was little trouble with the authorities." While he was inclined to listen and be silent, Wirch felt that he may have been impolite earlier. When he declined a hand-shake, Wirch had been feeling the need to leave. For him time was not a luxury at this point. He had carefully planned the times of arrival with the planned attack.

Soon the enemy would learn that Wirch was more cunning than may have been guessed. He thought to himself, "Let them continue to underestimate me. They will be punished soon enough."

[member="Iris Tyrad"]

 

[Iris Tyrad]

"Well I didn't have much trouble when you showed up..." Iris said in reply to Wirch's question.

As Iris continued to follow Wirch to his ship, he began to think. Who was this Wirch Bicket? Where did he stand? It all seemed a bit shady to Iris. The words 'Durasteel Fist' rang in the merc head, this was obviously the name of a group, but what the group did was still a mystery.

Also the way the spaceport owner acted afraid of Wirch confused Iris further, was this man more powerful than Iris originally thought and more powerful than he appeared now?

[member="Wirch Bicket"]

 

[Wirch Bicket]

"Well communication has always been horrible between the space station and the planet. But to have to get a citizen of the Durasteel Fist is incredibly difficult for comms between them and the space station are almost completely forbidden. Ah, here we are. Isn't she beautiful."

He stopped walking and about ten meters away, on a small slope beneath them laid a large battle-platform. It was heavily armed and being reloaded with supplies and ammo. It was the Long-Yard one of the most feared ships in the area. It had been a gift from the leader of the battle corporations to him for destroying some larger enemy battle-platforms. It was the largest ship that Wirch had ever been given command of and it would some day be his flagship in a fleet. It was where he had thought of his plans for the betrayal to come, where he had planned the true future of himself and the Durasteel Fist. Soon it would be put in action, all too soon. Let them wonder....

[member="Iris Tyrad"]

 

[Iris Tyrad]

"Ah, here we are. Isn't she beautiful." Wirch would finish with as the two approached a very large, impressive ship. Though the ship was a beautiful piece architectural design, it was obviously fitted for combat, this was apparent from the weapons all placed in the most strategic, reliable places.

"Yes, a very fine ship." Iris would agree, however, he was never a fan of larger ships. He preferred smaller, more agile ships, that could flee combat in dire situations. Stopping next to Wirch, Iris noticed fresh stocks of ammo being loaded onto the ship. This ammo was specialised, almost unique. Iris wasn't familiar with it. The supplies ranged from missiles to batteries, 'Nasty ammo, for Nasty guns.' The merc thought, hoping he would never be the one in the infront of those weapons.

[member="Wirch Bicket"]

 

[Wirch Bicket]

"She's the finest platform a man could ask for. Of course, she it technically not mine, but if anyone tried to take her...." He remembered once that happening, when a government official had tried to forcibly take the Long-Yard from Wirch, the man had been left in a Red Striker prison and was shot by an assassin later on. The events had never been successfully examined, and there was no evidence to Wirch but some suspected him.

He gave a small salute to the captain that ran up the hill. The captain returned the salute speaking quickly in the Relovian tongue. "O viri! Parata sunt fere exitum. Simus et aerium horam."

Wirch smiled and replied quickly, "Optume. Numquid pro salutate viri praepararetur cannons."
Then remembering that Iris would probably not understand, he turned to him as the captain left. "He was saying that we shall be lifting off in an hour. I told him to prepare the cannons for a salute." It was not common for anyone that wasn't a high commanding officer on Relovian to get a salute from platform guns. He hoped that Iris could read that in the way Wirch spoke. He began to walk down the hill, again giving Iris time to speak.

[member="Iris Tyrad"]