Start of the Bloody Trail (PM for Invite)

[Jaster Awaud]

Location: Iskeria, Exploration Trade Caravan Alpha 107
Operation: Secure planet for UTC forces
Allies:[member="Ultimatum"] [member="Xavka Duquo"] [member="Kalous Anson"] [member="Edward Frisby"] [member="BX-1138"] [member="Rogue"]

Jaster had been planning for the introduction of this planet for months. It was the first link in the long chain of planets that would provide the Unknown Regions connection to the rest of the galaxy. This planet was once controlled by the Fringe Confederacy. After their fall and great exidus to the Primevil some months back, their Hyperspace Communications stopped and all connection to the rest of the galaxy just stopped. Jaster hired mercenaries, doctors, and scientist to assist with the securing of the planet and returning it to the rest of the Galaxy.

His small fleet of trade ships and escort craft exited hyperspace to find the cold icy planet almost abandoned. His crew was unable to regain communications with the surface and it seemed there were no activity from the planet at all. Jaster couldn't take the chance of being exposed and the planet itself was unlivable without space suites, so he would have to send a team to the surface to gather the needed information.

Jaster walked over to the Coms and barked his orders, "This is Viceroy Jaster Awaud, Mercs, report to the hanger bay for orders, all other teams stationed in reserves till the away team gives the all clear."

The ships interior lights flickered twice to show the other teams that his orders were finished and they were to get on their way. All the Supply Ships carried Dropships and supplies for when they were needed, the away team would take the same ships to the surface and find out what was wrong.

 

[Ultimatum]

Iskeria​

Hangar Bay​

​

Mustafar Time:​

00:49​

​

Communications:​

Available​

​

Ultimatum had spent most of the trip in the Hangar Bay, it tended to be quieter in a way. People tried to avoid spending overly long periods of time in the Hangar bays, they were just colder than the rest of the ship. Ultimatum had found the temperature refreshing, though that might have been because he had been on Mustafar a little too long. He didn't envy the organic's ability to sense minute changes in temperature, if made them a little too sensitive to the cold and heat, Ultimatum wasn't as adversely affected by it. He was at home in most temperatures, though too much in either direction and he began to have some difficulties with his circuitry, nothing that he couldn't work with, but it made it very hard and was annoying.

When the order was given to meet at the Hangar bay he picked himself up from the seated position he had been in on the wall. He had been able to contact Legion back at base, the droid was getting pretty good at working with the organics as long as he could keep control of his schizophrenic tendencies. It had quite a bit of experience now, and Ultimatum was glad that he could leave Mustafar in good hands, the people needed a lot of work to take care of, but he trusted Legion. He waited patiently... could a droid wait any other way? Probably not, droids tended to be programmed to be patient with organics, who were in turn impatient with the droids. An annoying fact. He hoped that he wouldn't be treated that way.

[member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"]

 

[Kalous Anson]

Space; a beautiful collection of stars, dust, and metal that spanned as far as anyone would ever know. Space, however, was now the only thing that had changed around Kalous during this trip--his first--into the Unknown Regions. What was there to do while waiting for this convoy of mercenaries and scientists to arrive at their selected location? This constant rush of nervous energy, combined with the long wait it had taken for the convoy to arrive at the Iskerian System, was something that Kalous had to battle with on an hourly basis. This internal turmoil was something brought upon by his own inexperience--his lack of a previous jaunt into the Unknown Regions--seemed to heighten the sensations that befuddled his mind and body.

Kalous had become a very secretive mercenary since entering the service of the one who had supported this endeavor to secure the world of Iskeria. He rarely removed his armor, and even when he did, he didn't remove his helmet for longer than was necessary. He didn't want to give anyone reason to try and recognize him from his days of former glory and fame in the world of Grav-ball. This mercenary gig was something that he wanted to fully embrace, and one that he wished would embrace him, before anyone could judge him for falling into such a disreputable vocation.

Spending the majority of his time training his mind and body for combat; Kalous also made sure his weapons were all in pristine condition. He cleaned them regularly--almost compulsively--without any objective of getting to know anyone he was working with. Kalous had realized that it may benefit the team if they were to get to know one another to know what to expect from each and every one of them, but he couldn't bring himself to take that risk--also knowing that it could be a hindrance if one of them should end up wounded or worse...

It didn't take too long for a voice to bark out orders over the comm system when they had all arrived at the Iskerian System. [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"] had a certain air about him that Kalous had found to be interesting to say the least. Following orders from the one who signed the checks, however, was something Kalous had no problem doing. And so Kalous removed himself from the armory he was using to clean his weapons to take his leave to the hanger that he had been summoned to. Now was the time to focus and exude nothing but confidence--lest his fellow employees sense an air of fear from the young mercenary.

[member="Ultimatum"] was the first being that Kalous saw when he entered the hanger. A curious being that Kalous had no inkling of understanding. Inorganic life was something that was far over Kalous' own head. All he knew was that he would work with anyone that he was paid to work with and hopefully enjoy things going well. There was something that Kalous also knew--things never seemed to go well when money was involved. And so Kalous sauntered towards the center of the bay--making mental notes of everything around him as he did so--as he began to wait for the others to arrive.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Xavka sat in the shadows of the armoury he was sat in, Zhabako laying across his lap, whetstone in hand. He had been sat there since he had stepped aboard the ship, sharpening his blades one after another in preparation for the efforts to secure the world of Iskeria. He had signed up out of boredom mostly, but a small part of him had been exited to see more of the galaxy he lived in, to explore sights that he had yet to see and to collect more experience in life.

However that small spark of excitement and accompanying nervousness was hidden behind his usual stoic mask, a mask he was not going to lower any time soon. Xavka did not trust easily and while he knew, from his early life on Iridonia, that a hunting team which understood each other and each other's possible reactions to different situations brought in the best and biggest catches, he would not open himself up to complete strangers who could very well decide that they didn't like him and drive a knife into his back as a few had attempted to do so before.

He only realised that he had been starting to levitate his weapons around him due to his remaining anger at those that had attempted to kill him when the voice of his current employer barked throughout the ship. Recomposing himself, Xavka replaced his weapons on the floor before placing them on his person. His Zhabako the only visual weapon on him as it was tied to his back, the rest where hidden from sight giving him an ace up his sleeve. Standing with a groan, Xavka scooped up his cane before making his way out of the door and headed towards the hanger as ordered, wooden cane causing echoing taps to ring out through the hall way.

Stepping into the hanger, Xavka's eyes flickered around the room, taking everything in and committing the layout to memory so as to create a mental map of the room, as was habit for him. He acknowledged the two beings already there with quick nods of greeting as he made his way towards one of the walls opposite the droid. Leaning against said wall a few seconds later, Xavka's yellow eyes flickered around the room again, this time committing the areas that had been hidden from his view upon entrance to his mind, completing his mental map of the location.


[member="Kalous Anson"] | [member="Ultimatum"] | [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"]

 

[Jaster Awaud]

[member="Ultimatum"] [member="Xavka Duquo"] [member="Kalous Anson"] [member="Edward Frisby"] [member="BX-1138"] @Rouge

The bridge seemed to be in order so he could leave it to the Fleet Executive Officer, Rear Admiral Selite. A competent man that was with the Fringe before their mass exodus to the Primeval. They would continue to observe the planet from a distance until Jaster merc group would secure the planet below. It required skilled soldier, explorers, and researchers, he had faith that those he hired could get the enital part of the plan underway.

Jaster made his way to the hanger of the Hammerhead Class Cruiser for the briefing and then operational orders that they were to complete. It was just a routine check up of the colonial outpost that was settled some years back. The colonial governor was a big player in the Unknown Region. To secure him would also secure Jasters grip on any supply lines in the Unknown, this was the top priority, but if failed not a big loss. If the governor was to be killed then Jaster would have no opposition within Region, what would be a big loss was if the Supply Ships were destroyed. This was why Jaster kept them out of range of any planetary cannon. The Ships were not designed for combat, and as such were to stay out of combat for as long as possible.

Jaster finally reached the Hanger, seeing the group he hired to secure the planet seemed veterans of a few battles, this was quite alright to him, "Thank you, here is your mission troopers," Jaster pulled out a hand held holo projector and a small projection of a mining facility was brought up. "This is one of our, UTC Observation Outpost Sahara, she's not been responding to any hailing from the fleet, we think the facility was raided and there are no survivors, we can't tell because the planets atmosphere is way below zero and will require space suites for this departure, we have some ready for you if you require it." A little red dot appeared at one of the top of the adjoining buildings, "You will be entering here, this is the back up landing pad that requires a outside IFF transmitter code to open the landing bay, once there you will continue on to the mess hall and then through the living quarters before moving onto the command center and restoring power to the facility, then the reinforcement will arrive and secure the facility,"

A second squad of men arrived in Conglomerate Police attire, "This is Silver Squade, they will be going along with you guys in the second drop ship, we are hopping for no resistance, but life signs are very difficult to detect on the planet so don't let your guard down."

The briefing was over and the floor was open for questions.

 

[BX-1138]

(Can't say much due to my 'owner' being LOA. Just posting this so you know I'm in.)

The droid listened to the man carefully, taking in every detail of his speech and analyzing the projection of the mining facility. He'd carried out this kind of missions numerous times, and would happily do it again. Once the rather short briefing was over, the droid looked at his master, [member="Edward Frisby"], waiting for him to ask a question. None came.

BX-1138 then turned his attention to the other beings in the room; a grey-haired Zabrak, an armored amphibian being, and another inorganic life form—all equally mysterious.

He was looking forward to carrying out this operation with them.

 

[Xenia Nastassia]

Iskeria System;
Executive Board;
UTC Insertion.

[member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"] | [member="Xavka Duquo"] | [member="Kalous Anson"] | [member="Ultimatum"] | [member="BX-1138"]

Iskeria.
Start Point.
Space.

It started when Xenia began pushing the feeling back, whatever the odd sensation was which now bubbled up from somewhere just behind her naval and into her chest. A fire of anxiety. She didn't fear whatever came next, the mission, at least not in a warrior's way. No opponent could make her tremble, but the mission itself, on behalf of someone else's business. Painted lips pursed then carved into a rigid smile. In truth, she hadn't ever done this before, really fought for an order or cause. She barely considered this Trade Conglomerate anything major, not yet anyway, and yet she was wearing armor. Like a soldier-- or, she corrected herself quickly, a general. She wasn't used to armor and had previously preferred the agility of forgoing such cumbersome attire. Now, she wore it willingly. Light overall, the armor had green plating marked in deep blood orange accents. Weaponized gauntlets and a helmet, though she wore that under her arm, yet revealing a battle painted face. Lips painted black with a white line bisecting their centers vertically and dark-made eyes heavily brought upon with black paint. Red lines which matched her armor's orange in color were struck in shadow of her cheek bones, and her hair was pulled back into an impossibly intricate river of braids and well placed weaving tangles.

Xenia Nastassia, Executive Board member of the UTC, had actually requested participation in the first strike operation, publicly. And effort to upkeep her heir of loyalty, performing the stability Jaster so wished to see in his associates and employees. A slow simmering build up to empower her if or whenever she did oppose the conglomerate's viceroy. For now playing along suited her fine, even if for the thrill of it alone. So when she made it into the briefing room she sent a sharp, abridged smile in Jaster's direction, then something of a more subtle nod to the rest of the gathered. For many, this would be the first time seeing Xenia, and the first time she'd seen them- beyond whatever profiles and databank information Jaster had pulled up previously on those who he employed. He gave orders in full authority, treating those he payed for like real soldiers, she had no such preference. Sentients, soldiers, mercenaries no less, they were all reliable sometimes. Stepping from her place in the shadows, Xenia made her presence more clear, shooting each present a look which might melt weaker men.

"Xenia Nastassia," she offered in preamble. It was presumable that she needed no further explanation. For years now she had been a wide spread and popular image across the holonet, almost unavoidable. Lucrative, controversial, and always striking. Anyone who had signed on with the UTC for this undertaking would have been likely well versed in the most basic political structure of the conglomerate. And even if they had no inking of knowledge as to who she was, her authoritative posture and commanding tone of voice made things clear enough. Each member of Silver Squad temporarily bowed their heads in recognition, their eyes behind masks though nevertheless trained on her in careful observation. Beyond them, there were two droids, and a gathering of other exotic warriors.

"I'll be leading the first front on Iskeria, so pay attention boys. Blizzards and freezing temperatures have hindered any and all scanner activity, as such we're going in blind, but barely unprepared. Our objective is first to secure Sahara once more and establish a successful insertion for the UTC, while additionally identifying any and all possible opposition in the event that we're... not alone down there. In the case that we do encounter hostiles in any form, remember, it is first our priority to salvage and secure the base. No excessive force if it means damaging our own tech. We'll be arriving shortly, I'm sending the data schematics to everyone's data links now, please open your feeds."

 

[Ultimatum]

Ultimatum nodded at the two organic's speeches. He wasn't intimidated, even as an emotional droid he was disinclined to feel them. He would have prided himself on this, if he could have felt pride. As it was, he did notice some concern within his systems, however it wasn't enough to cause him to be unable to continue to his objective. Walking in blind into a possibly hostile situation was not Ultimatum's preference. He instead make a quick inquiry into the planet's history. There was little, though it hardly surprised him. The planet had no native species, but instead had been inhabited by others. This was not unusual in a galaxy at war, but Ultimatum didn't understand why organics put themselves through such tortures.

It was evident that the female expected to be obeyed, Ultimatum was happy to oblige. He was a team player, he had been programmed to work with himself as a team. He didn't mind taking orders, not now at least. This wasn't his area of expertise, but he was capable of managing, and he would prove that to himself. There was another droid, a commando droid if wasn't mistaken. A relic from the Clone Wars then? How had it survived the Galactic Civil War? It must know quite a bit. He wondered if it belonged to someone or if it were a free droid. The Zabraak struck him as capable, though he didn't have the same feeling to him. He wasn't willing to make any assumptions with that one, not that he had done so with any of the others. The Nautolin was also interesting, though similar to the Zabraak in his attitude towards them. The commander was the obvious one in charge. He would listen to that one above the female, if only because he was the leader of the operation. That didn't mean he wouldn't obey the female, he had already decided he would. It simply meant that he would have a hierarchy of command and the female was not on top.

He looked forward to the job. It would be interesting to see what was down there and where this would lead. He didn't care about rewards, he was driven by uniting organics in the hopes that they would one day see what he saw.

[member="Xenia Nastassia"] [member="BX-1138"] [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"] [member="Xavka Duquo"] [member="Kalous Anson"]

 

[Kalous Anson]

Speeches, motivational or otherwise, were always something of a given in moments like this. In the past it had been Kalous that had been the initiator of such bombastic, verbose, and ultimately useless confidence enhancing measures. It was obvious, by tones and non-verbal cues, that there were two such inclined presences on this ship--two too many as long as Kalous was concerned--but there was a reason that Kalous had been paid to be here. That's right, the only thing on his mind were those credits and how he could use them.

Being a natural leader over everything else; Kalous knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from trying to take over any hostile situation--it was just his nature. Naturally, there were some moments when he deferred to better judgement but if things got tough he would always be one of those voices trying to take charge of the situation--regardless if anyone would actually listen to him or not. He was far too confident in his own abilities, and too stubborn, to relegate any life-threatening situations to anyone else. His own life was something more valuable to him than any sort of payment.

In all honesty, Kalous hadn't paid much attention to those who had entered the hangar after he had. Having been more focused on centering himself--making sure he was entirely prepared for what was to come--when [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"] and [member="Xenia Nastassia"] started speaking up it had caught Kalous by a small amount of surprise. It was nothing that wouldn't be hidden by his helmet--which anyone that had seen him during the time on the ship would expect may be his actual face--it was only his late timing of turning to face the entire party that could even make it seem like he had been off in his own headspace.

"You will be entering here, this is the back up landing pad that requires a outside IFF transmitter code to open the landing bay, once there you will continue on to the mess hall and then through the living quarters before moving onto the command center and restoring power to the facility, then the reinforcement will arrive and secure the facility,"

"Landing pad, bay, mess hall, living quarters, command center," Kalous reiterated--mostly to himself--the plan that the group was going to attempt to follow. He knew that it was only a matter of time before someone screwed it up and he was determined that it would not be him.

"I'll be leading the first front on Iskeria, so pay attention boys. Blizzards and freezing temperatures have hindered any and all scanner activity, as such we're going in blind, but barely unprepared. Our objective is first to secure Sahara once more and establish a successful insertion for the UTC, while additionally identifying any and all possible opposition in the event that we're... not alone down there. In the case that we do encounter hostiles in any form, remember, it is first our priority to salvage and secure the base. No excessive force if it means damaging our own tech. We'll be arriving shortly, I'm sending the data schematics to everyone's data links now, please open your feeds."

"Boys, funny, attempting to gather authority by talking down to the hired help. Maybe I'm just too sensitive," he continued to mumble to himself as he took in the reactions of [member="Ultimatum"], [member="Xavka Duquo"], and [member="@BX-1138"] . Two of them were droids--so there wasn't too much to take in--but there was still a chance that something could be learned.

Crossing his arms, Kalous took a few moments to gather his thoughts before deciding on speaking. He was never shy but he knew when there was a time to listen and when there was a time to speak his mind--it just so happened that this may have been a time for either. If this happened to be the last time he could ever say anything to anyone without blaster fire and a sudden death then he just had to let it all out now.

"The plan is fine until it doesn't work anymore. We're paid to do what we're told and I am, of course, fine with that. The real reason we're here, however, is because you don't think your plan will work. If you did you would've used your own men and not a bunch of walking, talking, and shooting credits. Honestly, it's not like you're out any money if we all die anyway," Kalous began, incredibly cynical, but in a pragmatic fashion. "Let's just be honest and I think--at the least--you'll get your money's worth."

Casually, Kalous began to meander amongst the recruits. He had known, when he joined this profession, that he would probably be killed at one point or another. There was no reason it had to be today, on this mission, with these men, droids, and a woman by his side, but if things would get too hectic he had no problems laying down his own life so anyone else could escape to safety. That was something that was just inside of him--maybe a part of his natural leadership--that he would leave no comrade behind. It was something easier said than done but he would never ask anyone to do for him what he wouldn't do for anyone else.

"I'll volunteer to go first," he mentioned, casually, as he continued to inspect his fellow squad members--hired help or not--for any sort of weaknesses that could end up proving to be fatal for himself. "Just don't shoot me in the back and we're good."

When he finished his small rant; Kalous' eyes rested on Xenia Nastassia. He didn't know quite what to make of her and her painted face. As far as he was concerned she may as well be playing soldier with all of that extraneous make-up but he wouldn't doubt her abilities just by the way she portrayed herself. She was confident enough to join this operation, and so he would give her the credit she deserved. His respect, as it went for all beings, was reserved for those who had earned it. So far none of those around him had any of it--as he had just met them--but he would play nice until nice wasn't what they wanted anymore.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Stoic. That was one word that could be used to described Xavka as Jaster began the mission briefing. He allowed no emotion to feature on his face, allowed no flickered of anxiety, excitement or eagerness to flash across his eyes or pull at the corner of his lips. He kept the mask in place. He kept himself as blank as possible, he trusted non of the organic and inorganic beings in the room at this point in time and as such would not let them see beyond the mask. The mask he used made it seem like he was staring blankly at Jaster throughout the briefing, not paying any attention at all when Xavka was, in fact, making sure that every word was memory.

Despite his mask though, he couldn't hold in the small chuckle that escaped his mouth at the end of Xenia's little speech. There seemed to be a fire burning within her, something that Xavka definitely admired. From his position agaisnt the wall, half in the shadows, the Zabrak bowed from his shoulder minutely in her direction. A sign of respect from him. A sign he would follow her. And in the end, what could possible be worse than following the lead of a quite beautiful, confident woman who had the ama-mireth within her.

A minuet later and his mask was once again broken this time with a slight snort of disdain towards the only Nautolan in the room. He had stepped forwards and volunteered to go first, something quiet trivial, but it was the way he had spoken the request that had raised the Zabrak's hackles. The Nautolan had sounded like a Hikja-Semuta giving an order to those that would be following them into the plains of Iridonia. He had almost ordered Xavka and his fellow mercenaries that he would go first, positioning himself as leader. And it was that which was causing affront. One must prove themselves to be a leader among peers through blood, not through words.

Calming himself, Xavka stepped forwards, cane making a slight tap as he did so. "I feel like I must say that I agree with something tentacles here said," he jerked his head towards the Nautolan. "This plan works until it don't and if there are hostiles down there, then the plan is karked. After all: 'No plan survives contact with the enemy'. So, what are we gonna to do if the plan goes skippin' off to hell in a hand basket?" He addressed the question to everyone in the room, looking for some answer.


[member="Kalous Anson"] | [member="Ultimatum"] | [member="Xenia Nastassia"] | [member="BX-1138"] | [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"]
Translation:

Spoiler

Ama-Mireth = Soul/Spirit Fire
Hikja-Semuta = Hunt Master

 

[Jaster Awaud]

Jaster looked around the room, there were quite a few questions about if the plan was to kark up and they needed to improvise. Jaster was a soldier in the Madalorian Defence Force, he knew plans never went according to plan, even ones that were so detailed. This Jaster didn't detail his plan, there was so little about routes, or contact orders, or even if friendlies were happened apon. He figured that they were paid mercs, they didn't need a detailed plan to get the job done. The men he was sending along with them had their mission, the mercs had theirs, that was the plan.

Jaster sent out a schematic buildings floor plan and then spoke up, "All the floors are pretty much the same, stairs on the east, west and center of the building, elevators are inoperable, you will be inserted on the 100th floor and the command center is located on the 89th, that a total of 11 floors people, all that matters is getting there and resetting the terminals for our teams to insert and set up,"

Jaster now had to address if the plan didn't go accordingly and they needed to improvise, "This is Commander Deric Stol, he's commanding the second squad of my people that will be inserted to you, if the plan gets marked, he will fill you in, if that's all I need to get back to the bridge, good hunting."

With that Jaster left the hanger and returned to his duties.

[member="Ultimatum"] [member="Xavka Duquo"] [member="Kalous Anson"] [member="Edward Frisby"] [member="BX-1138"] @Rouge [member="Xenia Nastassia"]

 

[Republic Trooper]

[member="Ultimatum"] [member="Xavka Duquo"] [member="Kalous Anson"] [member="Edward Frisby"] [member="BX-1138"]

The commander walked up, "Good evening, as the Viceroy stated I'm Commander Stol, I will not be getting in your way, me and my team of 5 will just be you back up in case things go south fast, and to answer your previouse question, the Voceroy asked you all here because we are Police Officer, not soldiers, most of our officers haven't even shot a blaster at a live target before, thus you all come in,"

The commander then proceeded to stand with five other soldiers in the same gear as his, they were peeping what seemed like Slicer Pads. Their reason for joining seemed mysterious.

 

[Xenia Nastassia]

Iskeria System;
Executive Board;
UTC Insertion.

[member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"] | [member="Xavka Duquo"] | [member="Kalous Anson"] | [member="Ultimatum"] | [member="BX-1138"] | [member="Conglomerate Comando"]

It seemed the whole room breathed with Xenia, the yellow-gold holographic projections lining the walls atop display screens. Like everything throbbed and pumped all at once and in unison with each of her spoken words. An energy which she had no way of even recognizing herself, a welling tug as well as an eye catching roughness. Some eccentric poison which bubbled and burned just below the exterior of fine flesh and beautifully painted markings. It was with this intensity that Xenia met any subtle aggression when first it spat from the green, slick looking nautolan half covered in shadow; a metallic mask covering his face and obscuring his voice. Even in low volumes, the automated voice filter permitted a clean tone which was anything but silent. <<Boys, funny, attempting to gather authority by talking down to the hired help. Maybe I'm just too sensitive.>> Raising her head to meet him, Xenia could feel the rounded green discs of her eyes yanking into narrow slits. It was this very spirit of insubordination which separated an official military from thugs, and further still, droids from organics. She needn't respond with words of her own, instead choosing to let the man carve himself out into negative example. To let him choke first over his own words.

<<The plan is fine until it doesn't work anymore. We're paid to do what we're told and I am, of course, fine with that. The real reason we're here, however, is because you don't think your plan will work. If you did you would've used your own men and not a bunch of walking, talking, and shooting credits. Honestly, it's not like you're out any money if we all die anyway, let's just be honest and I think--at the least--you'll get your money's worth.>>

Then <<I'll volunteer to go first,>> as if he had such mandated authority. "I feel like I must say that I agree with something tentacles here said, this plan works until it don't and if there are hostiles down there, then the plan is karked. After all: 'No plan survives contact with the enemy'. So, what are we gonna to do if the plan goes skippin' off to hell in a hand basket?" She chose now, and the whiplash of her response was so sudden she sliced holes in any further conversation. "Whenever the two of you are done," the rest was non verbal, a discerning tint to her eyes. "In addition to Silver Squad," Xenia stepped aside and motioned only with her eyes at the neatly lined UTC insertion force, their own faces bent into statuesque grimaces, "which alone outnumber any 'hired help,' we'll be joined by two squads of NN type battle droids." As if to suggest that he might not understand what she was saying, Xenia deftly activated her own wrist chrono. Three dimensional images of up to five droid models flickered in brief visual display. "So you'll find we are staking of our own men and resources in this. If I had doubts about success, we wouldn't be here. This Trade Conglomerate focuses on covering every angle, and making use of numerous resources in order to reap the benefits of diversity. We're not above asking for help." There was no need to continue. Droids for calculated efficiency, soldiers and police forces for honor and appearances, mercenaries to empower the individual.

"Xavka, we're paying you to know those kinds of answers. Follow orders and you'll do fine. Are we done here?"

Though Xenia had posed it as a question, it really hadn't been one at all. She didn't await an answer, turning round on her heal and whipping her fingers about her head as if to round up the rottweilers. "We're burning fuel, let's move. About a thirty minute drop so make yourselves comfortable." Oh, she hesitated, her long legged canter temporarily halted. Spinning mostly with her waist, not willing to commit in a full pivot, Xenia spoke what surely were the most pleasing words of the encounter.

"All the floors are pretty much the same, stairs on the east, west and center of the building, elevators are inoperable, you will be inserted on the 100th floor and the command center is located on the 89th, that a total of 11 floors people, all that matters is getting there and resetting the terminals for our teams to insert and set up.This is Commander Deric Stol, he's commanding the second squad of my people that will be inserted to you, if the plan gets marked, he will fill you in, if that's all I need to get back to the bridge, good hunting."

"Good evening, as the Viceroy stated I'm Commander Stol, I will not be getting in your way, me and my team of 5 will just be you back up in case things go south fast, and to answer your previouse question, the Voceroy asked you all here because we are Police Officer, not soldiers, most of our officers haven't even shot a blaster at a live target before, thus you all come in,"


"Go time."







The landing craft was by no means a luxury vessel, and was more than probably made more for moving droids and equipment than actual people. Multiple levels of flooring upon which stood miniature swarms of battle droids in various clusters, separated by model. A dozen of the NN-I battle droids, lining the first and second floor in stacks, frail arms and legs folded in on themselves so as to assume the appearance of large boxes. Hulking, massive NN-2 units, sitting in a prolonged standby mode, each holding a weapon too large for anyone present to wield- not gracefully anyway. There were even some newer models, elite brands. Tucked away behind the rest were two folded spherical droids, what later would untangle into the NN-Disco. She had to admit, she wondered how the two droids present, [member="Ultimatum"] and [member="BX-1138"], would compare to her own machinations. Somewhere during the flight down she dawned her own helmet, pushing it snugly over her face and activating the long series of H.U.D. system start ups. In her ear there was the brief crackle of com channels opening and, almost stumbling in, the chatter of a digital voice. <<I was beginning to think you had forgotten your helmet altogether,>> it edged on, nearly sarcastic. She knew it at once as Detox, her own personal droid unit which acted as intelligence on missions she undertook, whispering information straight into her ear through the inlaid coms.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting."
<<Not at all, you know how I just love to sit and stare,>> joyfully concealed sarcasm not yet removed. <<You know, it's going to be pretty cold down there, hope the thermal settings on that suit of yours aren't beat up too bad.>>

"... Are you trying to jinx me?"





<<Time of day, midday, weather, stormy. Craft are preparing landing procedures... landing gear and repulser systems online... you should touch down on world in approximately fourteen, thirteen, twelve...>>

​

Just for the fun of it.​

Modeled after some of Jaster's Trade Outposts.​

Droid Appendix;
NN Models.

Access Param Input:
> Access Encoding// ? [Enc_424]

Accessing...
Encrypting...

Login:
> (?) Login// Xenia Nastassia [ _Run]
...
Password:
> (?) Shell_Code ************ [ _Run]
...


Confirmed

Click > NN-I Battle Droid. Fragile though highly intelligent battle droids. [x12]

Click > NN-2 Heavy Battle Droid. Durable and heavy hitting, highly intelligent battle droids. [x4]

Click > NN-Disco Droids. Heavy hitting mobile turrets cloaked in holo-projections. [x2]

Click > Detox. Droid NPC, speaking through coms, her sidekick and most cherished creation.

 

[Republic Trooper]

[member="Xenia Nastassia"] [member="Ultimatum"] [member="Xavka Duquo"] [member="Kalous Anson"] [member="Edward Frisby"] [member="BX-1138"] @Rouge

The commandos walked to their drop ships. There were two, one for the Mercs and Board Member Nastassia, the second would be for the support team and would provide covering fire. There was no need to be worried, but both Jaster and Xenia were of course worried about there being hostiles. The commander didn't feel that same way, but would follow his special orders to the letter.

"Alright ma'am, the ships are ready for departure and the pilots are clearing their departure and enterence route with command, Viceroy wants you spacificly in and out without injury, your droids will provide that correct?"

The commander had other missions to complete, so if the droids could do the protecting, that was one less thing he needed to worry about.

 

[Kalous Anson]

Kalous was all too pleasantly surprised at the fiery disposition that [member="Xenia Nastassia"] had taken with her diatribe against the two mercenaries who 'stepped out of line'. It was true that the majority of the heat was directed toward Kalous but he couldn't even describe the joy he had received from just hearing his own name slither from her mouth with the utmost contempt. It was something--some kind of feeling--that he could understand and resonate with. His tendrils felt like they were throbbing as they read the emotion that was exploding over his person in a controlled rage that one could only call eventful. Such emotion, with such strength, was something that Kalous did not perceive often, or at least when it wasn't fear, and for that he was grateful.

Dare he speak again? No, now was not the time to return anything to this woman who seemed to try and take charge in the only way she knew how. Another mark of a leader was to allow others to perceive themselves as strong where they doubt themselves. It was almost obvious that her temperament--and her defensive attitude--assuredly signalled a disdain for those who had been paid to assemble here. In short, she wasn't a very good 'people person' when it came to those she hadn't had the fortune of giving a chance.

It wasn't a surprise, however, that it would seem that their backup was incompetent enough. [member="Conglomerate Comando"] had said as much--and thus the mercenaries were hired. It was a typical spiel about how they couldn't shoot the broad side of a bantha and so they needed to pay to have a fighting chance. It was all too simple if it weren't for the fact that Xenia had all but refuted the notion that the company, seemingly headed by [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"], was entirely defenseless when it came to fighting an enemy. There were droids, of course, there were always droids.

Dwelling on his name, however, Kalous ented a brief period of introspection when he entered the shuttle that was bound for the landing pad--following in lock-step with the woman who was attempting to lead them all through the day. There were heaps of scrap--that she'd like to call soldiers--laying around with a programmed purpose. There was no way that Kalous could even begin to understand what went into making, or even operating, the droids that littered the spartan-esque transport. He wasn't the most tech-savvy person in the galaxy but he had made due with the long term operations on his own transport vessel. His simple existence meant the need for a brain that was more tactically competent than these machines but he wouldn't knock the special models that had arrived as part of the mercenary group--[member="Ultimatum"] and [member="BX-1138"] --they were a different breed.

Kalous was supposed to be hiding his identity and here he was already outed by a woman's spite and misunderstanding. At least she had only mentioned his first name--there must be a ton of Kalous' out in the known galaxy--but his fears of being identified and judged from his past were very real in his mind. Through all the time since he had been released from prison; his identity was still his most treasured secret. Knowing he shouldn't have been surprised that this corporation would do their due diligence before hiring someone--anyone--of the repute of a mercenary; Kalous couldn't help but be disappointed in himself how poorly he hid himself from the danger of a secretary with a hololink.

It wasn't until the countdown had begun that Kalous had found his way next to Xenia. Her helmet was on and Kalous could feel the tension between them--mostly the feeling of gravity pulling them toward the planet--but he prefered things to be honest. There were still a few things he had left to say but wouldn't dare after her clear public admonishment of he and another fellow mercenary, [member="Xavka Duquo"]. In retrospect, he had thought that her pause had meant that she was open for questions--that had simply not been the case.

"You know you're cute when you're angry," Kalous said with a moderately jesting tone. It would be an interesting ice-breaker that would only be met with jovial acceptance, or in the more assumed case, the fiery wrath of a woman with something to prove. "But before you yell at me some more; I would just like to apologize for interrupting you. I thought that you were finished when you paused. It happens."

Kalous was smiling under his helmet but it wasn't as if anyone could see his genuine act of apology--nor would he wish anyone to do so. If there was one thing about being a mercenary that his travels had taught him--it was to be tough and unapologetic at all times. It would seem that there were still parts of his past that he couldn't fully release into the vacuum of obscurity. His career, family, money, and property had no problem disappearing in such a way.

"You better believe that I'll be the first one to leave this boat though. Honestly, I should've had it written in that contract I signed," he began as he grasped the barrel of his blaster rifle with his right hand so he could pull it from his back to rest across his chest in a ready position. "I don't want to die, you see, but I don't mind dying if it means I'm protecting someone else. A teammate, for instance. I'm sure you know all about me, and that's fine, but you should also know I'm not entirely like them, either."

He had to motion at the rest of the mercenary corps that were preparing behind the two. Kalous' own history was fairly quaint in its simplicity. There was fairly little history about him, or his misdeeds, as there was nothing to report. He had undertaken a few contracts and had come out without a scratch--more aptly with scratches but alive--and those ordeals were left with nothing illegal in their happenings. He was a good little Nautolan but he was also somewhat hard-headed and control oriented. That had left to many-a-heads to be butted.

"What I'm trying to say," he paused for a moment to not get out of his own character. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm here to give the best of my ability. All you have to do is let me... And I'll make sure you get all the credit."

 

[Kyron Stark]

Fleet: 2 Sadow-class Cruiser​

Location: Hyperspace heading towards Iskeria System​

​

Evilyne had been able to get a job after searching for a couple of weeks and looking in every corner. She was happy that she could help but she didn't feel like she offered much, Well more then the two shadow classes shes bringing to help. She felt a little unwanted because she couldn't get crystals for her weapons and she didn't want to break them so she never used them. As she was thinking about this in her head one of her bodyguards had caught her off guard. "Mad'am we will be entering Iskeria space soon what are your orders?" Said the [post='12551']Mirari Droid[/post] in a female voice. Evilyne looked up at the droid which was wearing one of the [post='718']Inquisitor[/post] suits. "I guess we should prepare for the arrival." Get all the ships ready tell the other Ship to also prepare once we exit hyper space open comm links to tell jaster that i leave my ships in his control while i'm down there. Oh and tell the [post='24920']SC1's[/post] to be ready at the drop ships." Once she finished talking she motioned the droid away. Evilyne then stood up from her seat and walking up the the window looking out at the ship. Evilyne smiled then looked at the other ship next to hers then turned around and started to walk towards the hanger.​

​

Location: Iskeria space​

​

Once she Reached the hanger They exited hyper space. Evilynes ship right above jasters and the other one in front of them to the right acting as a shield just in case. Evilyne reached the drop ships with her droids and took off six drop ship took off with 20 fighter escorts. One of the her bodyguards asked why they were taking six drop ships instead of two she answered with "Well we don't know whats down there or if they arre ready for us. So it's better to take more with a chance of losing less." Then as they were exiting the ship Evilyne took out a haloprojecter trying to contact jaster before she left and entered the planets orbit. While they were catching up to the first wave of drop ships.​

​

[member="Kalous Anson"], [member="Conglomerate Comando"], [member="Xenia Nastassia"],[member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"], [member="Xavka Duquo"], [member="Ultimatum"],​

 

[BX-1138]

(So I guess my Master won't be coming...)

The commando droid had been utterly silent during the briefing, without the slightest movement of his head. He hadn't been programmed to ask questions; he was solely focused on getting the job done. This woman—[member="Xenia Nastassia"]—seemed like a capable leader. She had a fire in her, and the makings of a true commander. BX-1138 kept his silence as two of the mercenaries, the masked Nautolan and the Zabrak, questioned her authority—a bold act for an organic, he had to admit—and were quickly put in their places by the woman. Having her as their leader would be a good experience.

BX-1138 then turned his attention to the group of Conglomerate Commandos who would assist them during the operation. They were an intimidating bunch, but he had yet to see them on the battlefield. He was still studying them when his audioreceptors registered the two words, "Go time."

Finally, he'd see some real action after years, or rather, centuries of inactivity. BX-1138 was as enthusiastic as a droid could get. He followed the mercs, thinking of hundreds of different ways to eliminate an organic being, and failing to notice that his master had disappeared into thin air.

As the group entered the landing craft, the first thing Unit 1138 noticed was the battle droids, dozens of them, all waiting for a signal to activate them. Some of them were similar in design to the Confederate droids he'd fought the Galactic Republic with, like the dreaded destroyer droids or the bulky B2 super battle droids. His former comrades. Was the commando droid being...nostalgic? No, he couldn't let all that past data divert his attention from the mission in hand. He quickly forgot about the droids and turned his attention to the men and the woman he'd be fighting with. They had entered the planet's hostile atmosphere, and were closing in on the drop zone. The Nautolan, the merc who had angered Xenia just before departing, seemed now to be engaging in conversation with her, with 1138's audioreceptors registering "first one to leave the boat..." and "...f it means protecting someone else."

Stubborn.

This one, too, had the makings of a leader, although the commando had more faith in Xenia. The droid then looked at the other members, listening, trying to learn as much as he could about his comrades before the shuttle landed.

[member="Kalous Anson"] | [member="Conglomerate Comando"] | [member="Xenia Nastassia"] | [member="Xavka Duquo"] | [member="Ultimatum"]

 

[Ultimatum]

Ultimatum followed quietly, he had his own thoughts and concerns. This mission had been put together utilizing mercenary groups as the main combat force. Now the immediate conclusion was that the back up commandos were not playing a big role and were there as support. Ultimatum however had the sneaking suspicion that they had their own mission. It wouldn't have surprised him, organics love compartmentalization of missions. In the end it was more often then not the downfall of a mission, because as it had been said quite a few times already the mission was more than likely going to be scrapped as unexpected situations arose. It was a given that this would happen, plans never seemed to go out as intended. When the mission became complicated everyone had to trust each other, the problem with the organics was that trust was a learned trait. Keeping secrets was the fastest way of undoing trust for organics, which struck Ultimatum as odd because they all wanted their secrets but didn't want anyone else to have secrets.

He wasn't disturbed by the whisperings of the group, he wasn't concerned by demeaning talk. He respected the organics, even while he found their methods and thought process illogical and inefficient. He wouldn't complain that there appeared to be more going on, partly because he had no real proof other than a possibility within his circuits. Mostly however, he had believed for quite some time that the only way to move forward in the galaxy was to work together towards a beneficial goal that helped make the future a 'brighter place' as the organics said. To make a difference required people to be selfless, an dishearteningly rare trait among organics, but all too common within artificials. That was one of the reasons that Ultimatum had begun to expand his reach on Mustafar, to try and bring an entire planet into working towards the betterment of the galaxy. Unfortunately, as he had expected, there were too many organics who didn't care about the future. Those that did often cared for their own interests in regards to the future.

He boarded the vessel, looking at the droids and wondering why organics couldn't be more like them. Not the uncreative, mindless obedience part. The organics creativity was one of their greatest strengths and their affinity to question orders based on morals and other cues was a natural response due to their very thoughtful nature, this was good. Ultimatum wondered why organics couldn't understand that they worked for something greater, droids rarely complained that their job was too lowly, they understood that they were following the master's orders. Now Ultimatum didn't want organics to mindlessly go about obey orders from above, he wanted them to appreciate working for a cause that was more important and vastly farther reaching than they themselves. He doubted that he would ever see that day though.

[member="BX-1138"] [member="Rogue"] [member="Kalous Anson"] [member="Conglomerate Comando"] [member="Xenia Nastassia"]

 

[Republic Trooper]

[member="Xenia Nastassia"] [member="Ultimatum"] [member="Xavka Duquo"] [member="Kalous Anson"] [member="Edward Frisby"] [member="BX-1138"] @Rouge

It was finally time, the commander and his small squad were only there for supports, along with operational relay and close air support. The landing ships were very large, also quite slow at maneuvering, he just hoped there wasn't any anti-aircraft weaponry or enemy waiting.

He moved to the first Dropships and then loaded a few of the droids onto his craft, the officers were loaded after, "This is Comander Stol, first Dropships will swing in low as the spear head, we will enter the code and then second ship with the Mercs will be inserted, a quick fly by and then the mission is all your."

The Dropships were loaded and then they decended into the planets atmosphere. Breather were needed once they exited the ship, it was unknown if the building was compromised and it was mainly a precaution just in case. The decending was quick and fast, if there were any enemies their low tech radar would just be noticing they were arriving. The quick insertion was now quite possible.

The first run seemed almost too easy, Commander Stol informed the pilot that once they passed to get outside weapons range. That's when it happened, just as the Techs had entered the code.

Dropships 1 was hit, they were crash landing into the facility, near the lower levels far at the foot of the building, survivors were unknown. Commander did his job through, the back up hanger bay began to open and lights guided the ship into the needed positioning. The communication to the other team were shot.

 

[Xenia Nastassia]

[member="Conglomerate Comando"] | [member="Ultimatum"] | [member="BX-1138"] | @Rogue ​

[member="Kalous Anson"] | [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"] | [member="Xavka Duquo"]​

​

​

<<Writhe One is down, Repeat--! Writhe One is down!!>>​

​

The explosion rocked the air itself, knocking both adjacent craft aside like loose aerial debris. The air was lit in a deadly array of fire and ash, putrid black smoke belching out of their falling brethren. Before entering free fall, Writhe One lurched once, no doubt the pilot's last and failed effort to take control of the crashing bomb. "Evasive maneuvers!!" Xenia nearly yelled into her helmet display. <<Writhe Two and Three, circle around at wide girths.>> Both pilots responded and let fly their fasted regrouping. The wide arc of the turn made each craft a hard target to hit, exposing the enemies weaknesses. Six neon blue blasts cut through the whirling blizzard, reaching violently towards the Writhe craft. "Telemetry, make note of their gun positions and fly in low. Make it fast. Don't bother with the landing gear, this is going to be a quick drop off." "Yes m'lady." The pilot and two other officers responded.

Xenia barely heard them, the cockpit's entrance hatch already closing in her exodus. Straight into the top heavy, nauseating wiggle of the holding areas. Like she didn't notice the ship's barely stable condition, Xenia struck straight through the droids and mercenaries both, speaking over determined foot steps and waving her hand as if to instruct the others to follow her. "Gear up boys, we're gunna take a little leap of faith." Hands running over the various compartments in her armor for last second, extra careful check ups, Xenia turned and began jogging towards the main unloading rungs. The very floor itself opened up before her, the walls and the ceiling too. Below them was a chaotic scene of shuddering engines and heavy blaster fire, permeated by the constant, overwhelming beat of snow fall. Three sections of one ramp unfolded from compartmentalized slots and formed one massive loading ramp. Behind them, all around them, ahead of them and beside, the droids came to life. "NN Units." The red, menacing glare of their photoreceptors, the cold stare of dedicated malice. Straightening and reacting to their environment, each took a single step forward, adjusted to the uneven terrain, then took off running. Pushing through the rest, the organic pay for party, and leaping from the ramp's end long before any of the squishy living could manage.

Overweight NN-2 skeletons smashed into the landing pad's metal flooring, its white blanket of snow pushing and surging under the landing craft's powerful repulsor engines. Their legs bending, absorbing impact, and weapons raising in determined pursuit. NN-I, and the rest, dumped out in light hordes, unfolding in the air and landing with thick crunches on the ground below, reaching inhumanly around their back to grab their weapons, and then returning their focus ahead. "Our droids will make up the preliminary forward ranks, their sensory settings will give them greater scope of vision than us. They'll act as the first buffer between--!!" Another fierce explosion ripped the air apart just to the left of their hull, shaking their craft and sending it slamming into the side of one prolonged towers, raised from the Saraha outpost. Xenia shook, not needing to issue the ordinary 'brace yourself' command. Colors moved outside, and inertia pushed her stomach up into her throat as they fell. The repetitive jerking of gasping ion engines slowed their approach, but only slightly. Shooting a glance to the others through her digital visor, to Kalous, Xenia leaped forward and shouted before plunging over the edge.

"GO!"

The air stung, and she hit the hard ground with an unnatural thud, her body caving in under the weight and plummeting through thick snow fall. Another trio of azure bolts lit the sky and punctured holes in the Writhe Two's hull, pulling it apart before sending it head first into a rolling tumble, burdened by green, chemical flames. Xenia's weapon was nearly tugged from her grip in the battle for orientation, nearly, waving it round quickly into a defensive scan. Her helmet, sensors, digital information suffered here under these weather conditions. Visibility was almost intangible. Cursing, Xenia attempted and failed to inhale the first time. Something ached in her left arm. The third Writhe flew over head but was unable to unload its passengers. "Pull back! It's too dangerous!! We'll make do here." And it did, Writhe Three pushing past any targeting computers and speeding out of range before ascending so as not to forcibly acquaint themselves with the flat face of an ice formation. Around her the other bodies fell hard, and chunks of smoking, steaming metal. Then, switching to her local channel, Xenia stammered into the coms of her team.

"Merc Unit, check in."

Then.

"Ultimatum, BX-1138, take up forward position. You're with m--!!"

Something ahead, something she couldn't see, set off the machines, three of them rapidly turning to open fire on... something. No, somethings. She knew droids, she worked with machines. She knew what to expect from them, and knew to accept that they, out of the group, would be the most likely to survive the jump'n'land. They, like her NN units, weren't victim to the living, breakable anatomy of their organic masters. <<Motion ahead, possible hostiles, bio scans read organics,>> came the chirping low groan of Detox, to which she replied, "Possible hostiles!? They're shooting at us!!" And, at her gathered Rabid Squad, "Shoot anything pointing a gun in your direction, mark your targets, happy shooting."

There, behind the fog and spitting chills, lining the one and only entrance into the lower levels were heavily armored, heavily armed men and women of undetermined species. Their shapes were blotted out by the cover of large pillars and bulky protection in thick plates which lined their bodies. Powerful torrents of rapidly fired, blood colored energy fire returned into the heart of her droids, tearing some down before they managed to take cover themselves. Even in sprinting Xenia felt no nearer to the action, unable to see her quarry or accurately train her own NN Shock Rifle's long view shaft.

Enemy Information.
Sent to Rapid Squad H.U.D.

Confirmed
Database Information Request:
> (?) Motion_Capture [ _Run]
> Hostile_Parameter [_Run]


Loading...
Confirmed.

Objective. Enemies are numerous and hidden, dawning heavy armor and heavier pistols; bordering hand held cannons. They're covering the only entrance into Sahara Outpost from the landing bay. We need to clear the resistance and gain entry through the codes viceroy Jaster provided. Careful, these guys hit hard and they're capable of taking heavy hits.