Shippin' My Pants [Rebel Alliance/Imperial Remnant]

[Corvetta Salvo]

It had been a while since Corvetta had flown a real 'nailbiter'. Smuggling these days was a little hit-and-miss, to say the least. But it seemed like the Lost Cause crew had been launched into the deep end when the spunky pilot had accepted the job without actually asking her friends if they were interested. Yeah, she hoped they were not all mad at her. She just wanted to work a favor for her beloved cousin, Geneviève--the one she had met twice in her entire life of twenty-two years. Whatever her cousin did was kind of sketchy, but that basically summed up smuggling.

Whoever they were freighting into this outlier world of Rodica were pretty quiet, though interesting enough. They hardly seemed like high-profile characters, but the whole hush-hush atmosphere about them just piqued her curiosity so much. It was nearly unbearable for her to not know what was going on. All her crewmates were probably sick and tired of their pilot's yammering about what she suspected about the live cargo, coming up with extraordinary theories about what cousin Gen was doing these days that might involve such strange shipments.

They had just exited hyperspace, though--a rather unfamiliar hyperspace path, shocking to Corvetta--and the alternating colors of the looming world's surface filled the YT-2400's cockpit viewport. This was certainly an adventure already. Salvo was not familiar with this place. "Floatin' real," she called over her headset, alerting the rest of the crew that they were now in orbit.

Switching over to one of the radio frequencies that appeared to be designated for inbound transportation, the lifelong spacer called out to flight control, or whatever passed as flight control in these parts. "Civvie freighter, inbound Galactic Southeast." She checked the HUD to see what their phony registration number was this time. "Digits: Ysanne-Seven-Six, One-Four-Lando-Amidala-Tarkin. Request permit to land..." She checked the spaceport listings. Interesting. There only seemed to be one option broadcast. This really was quite the rural world. "...Yeah. Permission to land?"

Gen, what the frak are we doing here?

 

[Mrrew]

Mrrew sat in the little compartment where all the Rebels were stashed away, all of his normal gear and weapons hidden by a giant grey hood and cloak. It wouldn't do anything to make him look human, or even disquise who he was if you were close enough to see his face, but it was decent enough for long distances. It wasn't like you could hide who you are when you're an eight foot tall cat covered in white fur. Not very easy to 'blend in'. He had four of his best marines in the Rebel Alliance with him, all trained at the Rebel Base, each in inconspicuous clothing hiding their various weapons, two in full body armor. Which was easy for the three humans... But the large thick-furred Wookiee that was hunched in his seat next to Mrrew was constnatly grumbling under his breath at having to wear clothes.

Mrrew was unsure exactly what they were supposed to do- the mission briefing wasn't very clear. From what he gathered, get whatever information they can on the imperials, and shoot as many imperials as possible. Preferabbly without revealing their identities. Other then that, as far as he knew, the main goal as not to die.


"Lando amidala tarkin..." *insert Iseewhatyoudidthere meme*

 

[Fydiel Darraq]

"Damn waste of perfectly good pilots," Fydiel muttered to no one in particular.

Honestly, he had no right to complain; he'd volunteered for this assignment. But that was only because Rogue Squadron was mothballed until the Alliance had proper intel to act on, leaving him to go stir crazy pacing the same kriffing hallways on some Rebel carrier until he was sure he was going to wear out his boots and the deck plating. Better to be out in the field doing something, even if it wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind when he joined up.

He had to admit, he liked being aboard the Lost Cause. The old YT-2400 chassis had been refitted with all sorts of fascinating modifications; the outrigger design was a classic in his book, with far more rugged style than the YT-1300 that had been more popular in its day, and he was glad that someone was still flying one. The pilot and engineer were both pretty cute, and he would've loved to chat with them about everything that had gone into the ship's refit.

He was under orders of strict silence, though; the smugglers didn't need to know why they were delivering the odd little group. Frankly, it was safer even for them if they didn't. Running guns and spice was one thing; transporting members of a group classified as terrorists into a recently-annexed restricted system was another, the kind of thing that could get you executed if you were considered a full accomplice. If all this went south, the smugglers could honestly deny knowing anything about the Rebel mission and come through alive, if probably imprisoned.

It was the change in stakes that made him most nervous. He'd been to prison before, more than once, though none had held him for long; the Crimson Grins had looked out for their own. But this wasn't grand theft or piracy, it was high treason, worthwhile only to secure the freedom of billions from an oppressive government. He'd never considered his own mortality much before, but the thought rose unbidden in his mind as he waited.

The compartment where the Rebels were stashed was more than a little cramped; General [member='Mrrew'] and his Wookiee marine alone took up enough space that adding anyone else was uncomfortable, and there were quite a few of the infiltrators packed inside, feet and elbows jutting into each other. Risk of death or no, lovely old ship or no, Fydiel decided he would be glad to get his feet on the ground. It was time to find out what the Alliance could learn on Rodica...

[member='Corvetta Salvo']

 

[Tugoro Taidarious]

Tugoro hated the tense, silent moments of such important missions. And so, he took it upon himself to lighten the mood(for himself). The thought of being stuck in the hidden floor compartments with the Rebellion soldiers was just too much for the youth to handle. Surely wandering around wouldn't hurt much, right? At the last moment, the Jedi quickly maneuvered his body out of the hole, his booted toes barely being clipped by the floor panels that acted like lids. With swift and agile movements, the youth would slip away into the ship, using his sensing abilities to keep track of those that walked around. A massive grin would place itself upon the Padawan's face, as he continued his mischievous exploration. Decked out in his Wraith Vapor Armor, Tugoro had little doubt that anyone that saw him would get quite the scare, thanks to the cloak that also draped over his form. He looked extremely ominous, though exuded an aura of bright warmth.

Sneaking along the rounded corridors of the cruiser, the Padawan would happen upon the cockpit, looking through it's entrance to spot the back of [member="Corvetta Salvo"]'s head. Turning his attention to the view-port, the Jedi began to observe the outside world, only truly appreciating it while confined in the air. A strange thought, for a pilot. Leaning against the doorway, it seemed as if Tugoro was truly doing his own thing, however he was simply waiting for someone to take notice of him, for he wanted to see their reaction. He knew this operation was rather secretive, and that he'd probably get in trouble later on. Hopefully the classic "I had to go to the washroom" would get him out of any consequences he might face.

 

[Caius Flavian]

Rodica 1026, 87th planetary day.
Fort Herald of Peace, Joint Task Force Rodica Peacekeepers
Executive Officer’s Quarters

‘Oyem what a tedious and boring day’ I had my legs kicked up sitting in the executive suite. A hot mug of caff yavin tea was beside me. I had nothing better to do right now. Having been assigned temporary duty to the Nicoleta or Rodica or whatever the hell we were calling it these days. The base was designed off an old tried and true prefabricated design. I had been placed here on overseeing the improvement of the local settlement to a higher quality of living standards. 'So far so good'
I decided to begin interviewing the people directly to determine what their needs were. A lot of lambasting of us Imperials interfering with the civil war and some people going on and on about self-determination ‘Tiresome, they’ve been killing each other for nearly three centuries, I would argue they lost self-determination once they put their very culture to the pyre of history. We imperials are just trying to pull what’s left out of the pit and fix everything.'

I had the communications from around the base patched into my quarters, thus far nothing interesting just a lot of callsign to callsign I’m going to do x, y and z then go to b. With the typically roger or copy. The hum drum of military life. I stood up and looked out the view port. The base was situated right next to the town. I had decided to let the inhabitants keep the name for the settlement since we were going to do away with the planets name in favor of something more inviting. The Town went by Nicoleta now ‘Honor the enemy so to speak and let these people keep some iota of identity I just hope this doesn’t come back and bite us in the rear…’

What amounted as the spaceport was essentially a landing field with a bunch of prefabricated semi cylindrical structures surrounding a single control tower. The space port facilities were built next to the town with the landing field out on the plains. A few land speeders designed to ferry people to and from their respective ship could be seen parked under the shade. An old lambda class shuttle had just landed and was unloading a group of people who had just recently been exonerated of their association with the crinan rebellion. Families and such who had loved ones here. The idea was to concentrate those with dissident affiliation into one area to monitor with ease and strive to assimilate them into the new order. However there were competing interests into the affairs of this world. A Crinan civic governor would be appointed from one the noble families to manage the people themselves. ‘Politics as usual’ I sighed outwardly.

My gaze turned to the town itself. In the newly rebuilt town square a new statue was being built of Nicoleta shaking hands with both the king and the imperial emperor with a massive laurel of peace emblazoned beneath them. Several municipal structures such as a proper city hall and a school were being built around the town square. The monarchy had sent its royal forces to the planet just recently, garrisoned in a very imposing structure that would become the local police house. Until the Crinans could train an effective security force though the military’s of both the Imperials and Crinans were working as a Joint Task Force here. I was not the overall commander but at the moment I was the officer in charge leaving me right now at least with the JTF authority.

"Civvie freighter, inbound Galactic Southeast." A pause "Digits: Ysanne-Seven-Six, One-Four-Lando-Amidala-Tarkin. Request permit to land..." Another pause followed by "...Yeah. Permission to land?"

"Well that was a choppy and weirdly familiar sounding...hmmm" I looked over at the authorized time schedule for departures and arrivals and didn't see that code anywhere on there. 'What in the world? Y76-14LAT, well that’s too much of a coincidence… That’s my old shuttles code! Ugh they must have recycled the code when I decommissioned my old rust bucket’ I picked up my commlink and spoke to the control tower before they could answer back.

“This is Commander Flavian, acting CO, Now listen here they are using an old code, it still works but it is an old code, To be safe I’ll send up a flight to escort them in. Have them forward the standard cargo, crew and passenger manifest, then route that info to me. Also ask them their business here too! I’ll be down there personally to welcome our uninvited guests.”
I put on my uniform and left the room. “Delta one could you bring my speeder to the front gate.” I spoke on a private commlink “Oh and could you grab my travel mug as well with an extra dash of sugar to the caff tea.”

“You know when I agreed to be your personal pilot I didn’t think I would be your secretary too” Her voice was filled with a brooding anger. I could already feel my cheek burning from a future slap…

‘Today just got a little interesting…’

[member="Fydiel Darraq"]
[member="Tugoro Taidarious"]
[member="Mrrew"]
[member="Corvetta Salvo"]

 

[Juwiela Melec]

Instead of pacing the floor or simply sitting and waiting for the ship to arrive Juwiela had sunk into a meditation of sorts, focusing inwards and regulating her breathing and the Force energy she gave off, keeping her attention focused to the mission at hand. If she said she wasn’t a bit on edge about things that would be a lie. The infiltration had been long planned, and she’d had plenty of time to work up to it. But now that the moment was only minutes away, those nerves had come back.
Resolving that nothing could be done about it for the time being she sighed quietly and adjusted the durasteel staff across her back that was her primary and only weapon in a fight. It wouldn’t be the best defense against blasters, but their plan was for it not to come to a confrontation. Of course, things hardly ever went according to plan.
At Fydiel’s muttering she turned to him with a slight smile. “It might not be one of the daring flight missions you’ve heard about, but we’ll get there in time, I can promise you that. For now we’ll have to settle for something a bit more subtle.” She reached up to run a hand through her hair before pulling the hood up on her outfit, not wanting to draw overdue attention to herself on the Imperial world. Present company considered, they would be doing enough of that as it was.
She exhaled slowly and studied the Force signatures of the other Rebels briefly in turn, noting that she wasn’t the only one a bit nervous at the prospect of things. It wasn’t as if the mission was anything particularly different than what the ragtag group was usually up to. One way or another they were always fighting against the Imperials, but rarely had things ever been so up close and personal.
None of it really mattered, in the grand scheme of things. They would be landing in the spaceport soon, and then it was on to the real business of things: finding what information they could on the Imperials and secure some type of passage to their capital world, Crina. This was only the beginning of those endeavors.

[member="Corvetta Salvo"], [member="Mrrew"], [member="Fydiel Darraq"], [member="Tugoro Taidarious"], [member="Cauis Flavian"]

 

[Seris Caine]

"Skull Five, you awake?"

Killian stopped humming to himself and turned his comms back on.

"Roger, control. I just love sitting in space and twiddling my thumbs in one of the most advanced starfighters in the galaxy. It makes my heart go pitter patter."

"Can the chatter, Five. You and Six are being tasked with escort duty of a civilian freighter."

A sigh escaped him. Escorting a civilian freighter down to Rodica hardly seemed like a good use for a TIE Seeker and it's pilot. Even though he thought as much, he wasn't about to disobey orders. While he rarely completely agreed with the things that command did, he was disciplined enough to follow orders to the T even if he didn't like them. That was the beauty of the Empire: you could disagree with what was done if you wanted, but if you followed orders then there was never anything to go wrong.

"Copy, control. Moving to escort."

He switched the frequency over to the civilian frequency as he pushed the hibernating engines to throttle. Six, his wingman, followed him towards the shuttle currently in orbit. For the sake of practicality and safety, he punched his shields up and powered up his weapons. Can never be too careful.

"Civilian shuttle this is Skull Five. You have two escorts at your seven and five o'clock. You are to proceed to the Rodica Starport. Any deviation will result in negative consequences. Do you copy?"

[member="Juwiela Melec"] [member="Cauis Flavian"] [member="Tugoro Taidarious"] [member="Fydiel Darraq"] [member="Mrrew"] [member="Corvetta Salvo"]

 

[Sebastian Santelli]

This particular Chiss Admiral almost seemed to relive a single moment of history, especially when seated aboard the Outbreak as its commanding officer. His ancestor, Thrawn, would've smiled upon him to know that the genes of his blood flowed true and hot through the veins of this more than ambitious young man. Not only that, he even had an advantage over the old Admiral: the Force. Gleaming red eyes were almost entirely full of passion and excitement for the future. All of these men, all of these resources, and all of this power for his to one day call his own.

If only he could get this damned vessel into the air.

That's right. Nobody had ever seen, much less heard, of an Imperial Star Destroyer on the ground. Yet these little outer rim stations had the chance to see Imperial might touching down onto their planet. At least the Remnant was here with good intentions rather than ill. Rather than boasting a host of heavy vehicles and all of that jazz that went planetside during an invasion was gone - completely gone. Instead, the main cargo bay of this Star Destroyer held a massive assortment of infrastructure, raw materials, and even more colonists. It was the will of the Empress for this to be done. Add another self-sustaining world to their influence. They were going to build it from the ground up.

"Admiral," a middle aged officer started, "there's a freighter coming down into the spaceport, the one about half a click away!"

The black-armored Admiral turned to face him. "Captain Ryl, routine information is not, repeat not, simply shouted in the direction of its recipient. This isn't some market on Tatooine, this is an Imperial Star Destroyer."

Captain Ryl swallowed, opening his mouth to apologize, but nothing came out. Davin let the silence linger for a moment, long enough for several crewmen nearby to work up the courage to steal a glance.

"Now," Davin glared, "what did you want to tell me?"

The Captain inched closer with an emphasis on lowering his voice this time. "There's an incoming freighter, already been cleared for landing. First ship we've seen in a while that isn't Imperial."

Admiral Davin nodded, "Thank you, Captain. I trust you'll find that this was much more pleasing to my ears than that shouting."

"Yes, sir."

"You are dismissed."

With a curt, smart salute and a parade ground worthy about face, the officer was off to resuming his sensor array duties. Even though it was a grounded capital ship, there were still things to do to keep it fully operational and battle ready. Battle ready.

"Staff Sergeant," Davin sent his gaze towards one of the bridge's Stormtrooper guards, "contact the spaceport. Have a detachment discover what these people want or their intentions. Nothing too menacing, we don't want to run away business for those lonesome port merchants."

"Aye, sir." The trooper saluted and was off.

[member="Corvetta Salvo"], [member="Mrrew"], [member="Fydiel Darraq"], [member="Tugoro Taidarious"], [member="Cauis Flavian"], [member="Juwiela Melec"], [member="Killian Holmes"]

 

[Corvetta Salvo]

Well, the authorities were being rather receptive of them--even providing escort. Salvo was not thrilled by that. Whenever a government dispatched fighters to tail you, that meant you were high-priority in one way or another, and the Lost Cause pilot doubted they were going to be welcomed as celebrities. Still, nothing especially hostile had been transmitted to them--just strict orders. Everything should be fine. Unless it was a trap. Fortunately, Corvetta had not encountered one of those schemes in recent memory. Luck should hold.

Skull Squadron. That's cute. Corvetta chuckled to herself, finding the name humorous for some inexplicable reason. She wanted to send the TIE pilot a playful joke, but imagined he was probably a bit touchy when it came to freighter crews making sport of such 'impressive' war men. She prepared to be annoyed by the grating scream of the TIE craft when they entered atmosphere. "Snazzy, snazzy," the spacer replied to the fighter. Lost Cause kept on course, destined for the blip that was whatever served for a spaceport. A gargantuan, triangular shadow loomed under the fog of atmospheric distortion. What was that?

The neat thing about this mission was that they would not have to lie too much about the passenger manifest, and not at all with the cargo manifest. Just about everything about this run was legit, right down to the bacta bottles rolling around somewhere in the bins stacked in the main hold. The only truth that would be stretched were the numbers of passengers aboard--somewhere around eight in reality, but listed at five. Corvetta had not gotten all the details, but they were supposed to be 'journalists' or 'medics' or' entrepreneurs' or something really mild and reasonable. The crew numbered four as usual.

Sometimes you just get that funny feeling that there is another body in the room. "Hey, Koko," Corvetta called back to her best friend whom she thought was hanging behind her. "Lids clamp snug?" She was referring to the newly installed smuggling compartment covers that were composed of a nutorium alloy to prevent scanning crews from figuring out the oldest trick in the book.

[member="Davin"], [member="Killian Holmes"], [member="Juwiela Melec"], [member="Cauis Flavian"], [member="Tugoro Taidarious"], [member="Fydiel Darraq"], [member="Mrrew"]

 

[Robb Killian]

Robb sat against the wall of the Lost Cause's main corridor, not three meters from the ship's turret hatch, bouncing a ball against the opposite wall in a practiced series of motions. The action was relaxing in its simplicity, almost rhythmic. *FOP* The ball struck the far wall, echoing down the corridor in either direction. *Fop*, quieter now, the trajectory of the ball changed again, now bouncing against the floor and back into Robb's waiting palm with a hollow *slap*, ready to begin the cycle anew.

It was music to Robb's ears as he waited out the quiet moments before landing. *FOP*...*fop*...*slap* One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. The private tempo of a song to which he actually knew the steps.

One. Two. Three. The cargo was loaded, the "passengers" were stowed away, as much as they could be anyway, considering all the gear they were hauling between them. Robb grinned at the thought of one of the poor bastards breaking wind and was glad to be above the floor panels.

*FOP*...*fop*...*slap* Most of their disguises wouldn't last long under even a minimal amount of scrutiny, especially the big ones. He shook his head and sighed. I hope they know what they're doin...Kark...do we know what we're doin?


*FOP*...*fop*...*slap* Robb was all for a good cause, and the maker knows they needed the work. No point worrying about a thing you've got no control over. The die is cast, all I can do now is wait.

[member="Corvetta Salvo"] [member="Davin"] [member="Killian Holmes"] [member="Juwiela Melec"] [member="Cauis Flavian"] [member="Tugoro Taidarious"] [member="Fydiel Darraq"] [member="Mrrew"] [member="Kohai Drenn"] [member="Davik Tren"]

 

[Kohai Drenn]

"Check... Check..."

Kohai was approaching the tail end of a ship-wide system sweep. It wasn't as if she thought their "guests" would had tampered with the 'Cause, but it was the chief engineer's responsibility to be absolutely sure.

"...Check..." She also really, really needed to keep her hands busy right now; that pit in her stomach wasn't going away. "...Check..."

This latest job they were running wasn't exactly in their wheelhouse. It wasn't the first time her crew had moved live cargo, but she didn't like how secretive the whole operation was. To say that she was feeling uneasy would be an understatement.

Making sure to memorize exactly what stage of her routine she stopped on, the blonde stepped away from the reflective surface of a terminal she had been redundantly polishing. Stuffing the dirtied rag into her back pocket, Kohai wiped her hands absently on the backs of her pant legs, staining the threadbare pajama pants with hours of accumulated dust, grease and other such gunk.

Re-donning her lucky scarf, the girl stifled a yawn; she had been standing for too long. As she made her way towards the cockpit, her other hand came up to guide unruly golden locks out of her eyes. She hadn't with the ponytail, braids and headband today. It wasn't like their "extra cargo" would mind.

Kohai snickered as she stepped over one of the hidden compartments on the ship. Still not too sure how we fit them all in there...

The engineer noticed a figure in the doorway and stopped... Funny... Thought Corvetta was alone...

Wait... Did she just hear her name?

"Say what, now?" She spoke a bit louder than usual, the secret "What's he doing out here?" bleeding heavily into her tone.

[member="Corvetta Salvo"] [member="Robb Killian"] [member="Davik Tren"] [member="Davin"] [member="Killian Holmes"] [member="Juwiela Melec"] [member="Cauis Flavian"] [member="Tugoro Taidarious"] [member="Fydiel Darraq"] [member="Mrrew"]

 

[Caius Flavian]

Lt Commander Caius Flavian could be seen zipping along the designated travel lane or what would be considered a road to some. I sat in a side car attached to the speeder bike. I propped my legs up over the front of the car and leaned back deep in thought over a data pad. My caff tea mug was piping out some steam. I stroked my cheek from the slap I had received when Delta One picked me up. ‘Women, I’ll never understand’
The vessel calling itself the Lost Cause intrigued me deeply for some reason. ‘A strange name. Has my old code. Hmmm the sensor sweeps didn’t turn up anything unordinary.’ I took a look at the manifest. Everything looked perfect. Not a single seemed out of place. ‘Well they certainly seem to have all their eggs in order. Hell even the average trader tends to have a few numbers skewed. Lets look at the passengers’

“Sir, the space port authority just received an order from the Admiral, it looks like a storm trooper detachment from our garrison has been directed to rendezvous with the freighter when it lands”

“Oh what in the world is the Admiral thinking. I guess caution is the name of this game but displaying such bravado will only deter traders from seeking passage in these parts.” I sighed inwardly. “Well no matter I guess I’ll be the stereotypical imperial officer greeting every person with a platoon of storm troopers at my back” I chuckled. “Delta One what do you think of this. The Lost Cause is meeting every one of our standard checks along with full manifest data matching our scans. In fact there is only one discrepancy I see and that is a discrepancy with the number of personnel they are displaying as passengers and crew to what the scans indicate. There seems to be an extra person on the bridge unaccounted for”
“Well sir, if I wanted to get something to somewhere without trouble I would hire a smuggler and probably some of the best tech to screen whatever I was trying to hide”
“Sounds like you have retirement figured out” I teased
“That’s not what I meant sir, besides you just… ugh shut up! Sir!”
“I’ll overlook the insubordinate words you uttered in order to prevent any further abuse… Now you would say this freighter is a smuggler vessel? Why do you think that?”

“Well sir if you look at the datapad,” She reached over and promptly poked the screen at a section of the ship. “This class of vessel is notorious for smuggler use and often the interior is altered far beyond the original design. So I would bet my pension that they are hiding something or someone amongst the cargo. Maybe even in some sort of hidden compartment”

“Hmmmmmm it wouldn’t be the first time. Why bother going through all the trouble of trying to smuggle someone onto the planet though?” I pondered aloud to her. Delta One had grown up in the mid rim, an area of the galaxy rife with the comings and goings of people traversing the galaxy all over. A few times after between the sheets she would divulge her youthful stories of hanging around old traders and smugglers during the plagues last few decades of harsh decimation. The few trade routes that remained alive and free because of daring individuals who plied the most dangerous of tasks to score a few credits. ‘Celestials bless those brave stout individuals who led such a life’
“Sir I don’t know but if the admiral is taking an interest then we should be cautious, or well you should be cautious”
“When am I not cautious?”
“Every time you let me chauffer you around”
“I feel like I made a safe choice there, at least I know the full package I’m getting…”

We had made it to the landing fields. The storm trooper platoon had just marched out in good order. I hopped out onto the field itself. A rural countryside with sparse vegetation. I watched as the old freighter was approaching to land. Even from this distance it had quite a bit of character in it. It practically begged additional scrutiny. Still I would talk to the captain of the vessel first, request permission as a courtesy before asserting our authority to check the vessel from top to bottom. The scans picked up a discrepancy in the personnel files.
“Delta One I can only imagine the story these smugglers are going to give. Ah Lieutenant, remember we are not here to blast them apart just a good show of force and welcome them to our humble little slice of the empire”
Delta one followed closely behind me, she was dressed in a basic black service uniform.
“Sir, did you bring a side arm?”
I checked my hip and realized I had left it on my desk.
“Its fine Delta One, just make sure I don’t die if they suddenly start shooting. I just want to meet and greet let our boys in white do the inspection and if all goes well I’ll maybe invite them to dinner and we can learn some stories. What do you say?”
“Well Sir, that’s unusually reasonable… especially if they are trying something illegal”
“Nonsense they are giving me an interesting day… Lets greet them with traditional Imperial thoroughness and be done with the breathing down the necks”
“What ever you say…”
We stood silently at attention. Awaiting the arrival of our unusual guests.

Spoiler

[member="Corvetta Salvo"][member="Kohai Drenn"] [member="Robb Killian"] [member="Davin"] [member="Killian Holmes"] [member="Juwiela Melec"] [member="Fydiel Darraq"] [member="Tugoro Taidarious"]

 

[Davik Tren]

"Floatin' real"

Well, at least it meant the end of a boring trip. Up until this point, Davik had been sitting in his bunk and scrubbing away at a bits of stain and grime that had been imprinted onto the reinforced plasteel plates of his armor. Although it was a menial job, at the very least it passed the time as they entered atmosphere and began their horizontal descent to the planet's surface.

Of the little anyone knew, or cared to know of Rodica, it seemed like hardly the place to hire smugglers. The only thing that was said to be out here were a bunch of Nerf Herders and failed merchants trying to make it in the Empire's next "Big" planet, which did not exactly catch the eyes of many space traders as one might guess. Good thing they weren't trading in spice...

The young spacer had not payed much attention to their "cargo" when they had been haphazardly stuffed into the Lost Cause's new containers. Some of them had been cloaked in hoods and others had simply walked on board in more normal looking attire such as farmers or out of luck merchant's with little more than the linen in their pockets. He was sure he had seen the flash of a lightsaber though... Which always meant trouble.

"Kark it..." That last bit of grime was never going to come out with just a simple rag. He had to remind himself to buy some new polish when they port-side. But before then, he may as well get to work.

Davik donned the armor and made sure it was strapped tightly around the normal leather jacket he usually wore underneath. With a certain briskness, he made his way to the lounge. Once, he arrived and sat down on the small sofa, the spacer took out his datapad and began to click around the ship's cameras. He had them linked up while they had been at Shadowport and they were working well. He idly flipped about until he noticed a flash of a being making it's way towards the cockpit, but he shrugged it off as either Kohai or Robb... Well not Robb. He was quite busy as it would seem.

Suppose the waiting just never ends...

[member="Kohai Drenn"] [member="Corvetta Salvo"] [member="Robb Killian"] [member="Tugoro Taidarious"]

 

[Fydiel Darraq]

Fydiel offered [member='Juwiela Melec'] a weak smile. "I only get to the daring flight missions if I make it through the daring infiltration mission. 'Subtle' is another way of saying 'screw up once and it's over.'" But he felt ashamed as soon as he'd said it. This wasn't about fun, or glory, or what he was comfortable with. The whole reason he'd joined the Alliance was to have the right cause, to change things for the better and on a scale that mattered. This was part of that.

So he shrugged, and his smile gained a little confidence. "But I wasn't planning to live forever anyway."

Staring around the smuggling compartment, which his experienced nose told him had carried spice in the not-too-distant past, he felt his heart skip a beat. Where the frak was [member='Tugoro Taidarious']? The Jedi kid had been right behind him when they'd gotten into the compartment. As a matter of fact, he'd been last in line... Fydiel cursed. It would be just like him to decide to go wandering around the ship. He just hoped that the Imps wouldn't check the scans too closely.

"He's probably strolling around free as a mynock," the pilot mumbled into his beard, "laughing at us stuck down here."

But jealousy was no more productive than worry, and he pushed it aside with a heavy sigh. Turning back to Rogue Leader, he hesitated, wanting to ask her an awkward question. Finally he went for it. "So, you see with the Force, right? Like a Jedi? So you'd know if we were walking into a trap here. If there are a bunch of stormtroopers waiting for us when we get off, you'll be all, 'no, stop, the cosmic powers allow me to see that this was a terrible idea.'"

All of that mystical mumbo-jumbo confused the druk out of him, but the question still felt disrespectful, so he quickly added "sir."

Spoiler

[member='Davik Tren'], [member='Cauis Flavian'], [member='Kohai Drenn'], [member='Robb Killian'], [member='Corvetta Salvo'], [member='Davin'], [member='Killian Holmes'], [member='Mrrew']

 

[Tugoro Taidarious]

Still standing in the doorway silently, the boy would simply grin widely beneath his helmet, upon hearing [member="Corvetta Salvo"]'s confusion. She obviously believed that one of her presumably female friends were standing behind her. Oh, was that ever amusing to Tugoro. Stifling his laughter with all of his might, the boy would begin to speak in the static voice, as the helmet's speakers projected his extremely high sounding voice. It was clear the Jedi was mimicking a girls voice, even though he did a horrid job at it. It would be rather unclear as to whether he was mocking them, or simply messing around.

"Snugger than a hug," the teen would begin, adding a feminine giggle at the end. The cheeks beneath his helmet would puff out suddenly as he lost it, breaking into a fit of hysterical laughter. Making sure his visor was polarized, Tugoro would quickly crane his neck to the side, upon hearing the actual [member="Kohai Drenn"] approaching. The amusement he had possessed previously would die immediately, as the grin upon his face vanished. Even past her, he could see another, that being [member="Davik Tren"]. He had been cornered! "...Kark." He would mutter quietly in a blank tone, once more leaning against the entrance to the cockpit in defeat.

 

[Sebastian Santelli]

Enter Sergeant Elyas Rendal...

The Lambda-class shuttle sputtered slightly as the pristine white vessel touched down at the spaceport. The orders were simple: clear out this freighter and ensure that the safety of Imperial operations were not hampered by unknown elements. Not exactly as simple as he wanted them to be, but orders were orders and not following them got you killed. Mentally shrugging as he and his squad quickly filed out, his attention was directed towards the Imperial officers waiting for them. [member="Cauis Flavian"] was supposedly his name, although his name plate only told Elyas his last name.

"Commander Flavian," the stormtrooper saluted, "I'm Sergeant Rendal. Orders are to just make sure these folks aren't carrying contraband and then we're done. Simple. We'll move swiftly and try to get outta their way as soon as possible."

He paused for a moment. "Any questions?" Another pause sent the stormtrooper heading off towards the freighter itself. This guy knew what he was doing and he had no excuse for questioning an officer like that - but he had been sent by Admiral Davin himself. That authority itself must've carried even just the tiniest twinge of power.

Once he and his undermanned squad of eight had formed up, he accessed a channel that went directly to the freighter. Asking for permission was always nice and was something to be used in case the whole deal went down the drain. Elyas had actually be on the poodoo end of one such similar circumstance. Not fun.

"Lost Cause, this is Sergeant Elyas Rendal. Our current garrison orders are to inspect all incoming traffic to Rodica," the stormtrooper let his words sink in, "we're requesting permission to board your vessel and confirm the scans. Nothing too strenuous and then you can be about your business."

Simple as that. Today didn't have to be a hard day. Hell, Elyas might even work up the courage to go talk to one of those colonist girls that came on that Star Destroyer.

[member="Corvetta Salvo"], [member="Robb Killian"], [member="Kohai Drenn"], [member="Davik Tren"], [member="Fydiel Darraq"], [member="Tugoro Taidarious"]

 

[Juwiela Melec]

A slow grin broke out on her face along with a quiet laugh at his question. “Well, you’re not wrong, really. I do see with the Force, which is admittedly much different than the physical sight you’re used to. But I don’t see into the future like you think. I can, however, sense if something is amiss, more or less, so I would be able to get enough of a forewarning. Theoretically. Sometimes I’m not told everything that goes on. And it gets more complicated if there’s another Force user present.”
With all of the talk about the Force she reached out briefly with the ethereal tendrils to touch on the presences, drawing back once she recognized one of the more malevolent ones as Force sensitive. Well, he wasn’t Sith, exactly, but all things considered he wasn’t a friendly. Which meant if he boarded the freighter she would have to limit her “sight” to effectively nothing, lest he sense her presence and the entire mission be compromised. Things wouldn’t be nearly as interesting without someone around each corner trying to kill you.
The Miraluka hybrid looked back to [member="Fydiel Darraq"] with another smile. “And not a Jedi, exactly, but I suppose that’s the best way to put it. There are quite a few people approaching. It seems we’ve attracted quite a crowd, but it’s not anything to be worried about just yet.” She left out the part about at least one of them being Force sensitive, not wanting to worry the man any more than he most likely was. “I’ll let you know if anything goes awry. It seems to be pretty routine just yet.”
She'd noticed [member="Tugoro Taidarious"]' absence just a few moments earlier, but there wasn't much to be done about it. All that could be done was hoping that he was smart enough to hide himself before their Imperial friends decided to board and do a routine inspection to be sure everything added up.

[member="Davin"], [member="Davik Tren"], [member="Cauis Flavian"], [member="Kohai Drenn"], [member="Robb Killian"], [member="Corvetta Salvo"], [member="Killian Holmes"], [member="Mrrew"]

 

[Seris Caine]

This was quite possibly the most boring thing he'd ever done in his life. Escorting a civvie freighter down to the planet. Seriously, who would want to do that? When you were part of the Empire's most elite force of starfighter pilots and commando's you really didn't take must pleasure in playing babysitter. His TIE Seeker followed along behind the craft as it ventured down towards the planet and the waiting hangar space. This was easy, at least. No way this freighter was going to try and tango with a couple of advanced starfighters.

Once the ship was out of their control zone, he punched the engines to full throttle and blasted right past the ship. Let that scare the bejeesus out of them. To make it even more interesting, he suddenly cut throttle and brought the craft around to where he was hovering above it as it descended towards its designated landing zone.

"Yeah, that's right. You get searched now. And if you try to run... Oh I hope you try to run. Make it fun for me."

His comms were off; he was just talking to himself. Sometimes you had to.

[member="Juwiela Melec"] [member="Davin"] [member="Tugoro Taidarious"] [member="Fydiel Darraq"] [member="Davik Tren"] [member="Cauis Flavian"] [member="Kohai Drenn"] [member="Robb Killian"] [member="Corvetta Salvo"]

 

[Corvetta Salvo]

"Nice try, Tricky," the pilot chided with a grin, amused at the horror that she believed to be [member="Davik Tren"]'s attempt at a feminine voice. Never a moment too serious aboard the Lost Cause for some variety of teasing. Though Corvetta hardly appreciated the mischievous TIE pilot's maneuvers, and she held up her two end fingers for a Chandrilan curse--something she rarely did. The flyboy probably would not notice, but it was nice to at least let out her feelings about his obnoxious move.

Turning about, Corvetta noticed that it was not, in fact, her crewmate who had butchered his female vocal imitation, but one of their passengers. The real Kohai responded as soon as she realized this, inquisition in her tone. The sneaky guy in a crazy helmet was recovering from a debilitating fit of laughter, seeming to find himself a little bit funnier than Corvetta would actually credit him. "Don't know, Koko. Was just asking if you had--you know--disposed of the bodies." She bit her tongue and brushed her hair back over her shoulder in an effort to hold back a smile and maintain a straight expression, though she found it quite difficult.

Fortunately, an incoming signal interrupted Comedy Hour, just in the nick of time. The spacer chick immediately whirled in her seat to face forward through the viewport once more, and tuned her headset to the control frequency. Apparently, they were going to have to go through the whole nitpicky search process. It was just like the Imp types to be Imps. "Understood," she responded, a trace of annoyance evident so she would sound hardcore. But, really, she would just take this in stride. Robb should have the whole security thing down at this point anyway, right?

Cutting off boosters and switching over completely to repulsorlift power, Corvetta brought the ship down to an altitude of one thousand meters and awaited final clearance to land at whatever makeshift landing pad they felt like opening up today. "Oh, frak," she muttered, just loud enough for the two people nearby to hear. "Looks like they brought out the whole bucket parade to say hi." How many Stormtroopers did they need to welcome a freighter, anyway?

[member="Mrrew"], [member="Fydiel Darraq"], [member="Tugoro Taidarious"], [member="Cauis Flavian"], [member="Juwiela Melec"], [member="Killian Holmes"], [member="Davin"], [member="Robb Killian"], [member="Kohai Drenn"]

 

[Robb Killian]

The Lost Cause lurched slightly as it breached Rodica's atmosphere, forcing Robb to lean a little in order to catch the ball as it rebounded off the floor. 'Bout that time I guess. The spacer leaned forward onto the balls of his feet and forced himself up from where he sat, rolling his stiff shoulders as he reached his full height. Now upright, he turned and made for the loading ramp, tossing the ball up and down as he made his way through the ship. The moment of truth was fast approaching and the hold needed to be prepped for boarding. Robb stepped into the cargo hold, gripped the rubber ball in his left hand, and crossed his arms over his chest.

The hold was in the same shape Robb had left it in hours earlier, cluttered, yet organized. Their assorted cargo had been secured away from the ramp, as close to the wall as possible, so as to allow easy access to the ship's interior. Robb paced the perimeter of the hold, testing the various rigging straps as he went. Good. Good. Solid. Good...

The hidden compartments actually located within the main hold's floor, walls, and ceiling were magnetically sealed at the moment. And those were mostly empty, apart from a sparse selection of food stuffs, frozen water, and emergency fuel. If found, the seals could be deactivated at the crew's leisure by a semi-concealed switch within the room. Let 'em believe what they want to believe.

His survey proved brief, as everything appeared to be in its proper place. Satisfied, Robb walked back toward the threshold and keyed the wall-comm.

"Everything's good on my end guys", he announced.

Robb released the comm and walked off towards the cargo, taking a seat atop one of the smaller crates. Time to roll out the welcome wagon... He stared intently at the loading/boarding ramp and crossed his arms over his chest once again. He'd left his armor and helmet safely stowed away within his quarters under the assumption that their's was a more clandestine approach. The only weapons on him were his blaster, safely tucked away within its holster, and his knife, securely sheathed on his right boot.

The goal here was to remain amicable and accommodating, to get them in, and out, as fast at possible. Everything was, supposedly, documented and accounted for, after all. Let's hope these rebels know how to keep quiet. Robb gripped the ball in his hand once for good luck before tossing the thing off into a corner somewhere, he'd find it later. For once, it seemed, the crew of the Lost Cause had nothing to hide, on paper anyway.

[member="Killian Holmes"] [member="Juwiela Melec"] [member="Davin"] [member="Tugoro Taidarious"] [member="Fydiel Darraq"] [member="Davik Tren"] [member="Cauis Flavian"] [member="Kohai Drenn"] [member="Corvetta Salvo"] [member="Mrrew"]