With Iron and Steel (Authoirty Dominion of Lyran IV)

[Salem Norongachi]

"All personnel, make your way to the escape pods. I repeat, all personnel make your way to the escape pods! This is not a drill...!"

The cruiser was shaking, rocking so violently that people were thrown to the ground only to become stepping stones for other terrified passengers. As they ran, a mob gripped by fear, they could see the cracks forming on the corridor walls. Thin spindly signs that whatever held the ship in a death grip would soon rip it apart. A relay exploded further up the corridor, the sparking explosion killed dozens before that whole section opened up into space with the planet spinning innocently below them, drawing the ship into its atmosphere and there was little they could do to stop it.

Several Days Later

"The last communication we received from the Renegade put her position in the Lyran System, that was three days ago. We haven't heard anything since." The Admiral stood before Norongachi's desk, as prim and as proper as you might expect for a career man.

"Why were they so far beyond our borders?" He asked, looking up from the report.

"Merchant ships passing through the system had been disappearing, they were checking into it. We thought pirates..."

"There isn't a pirate group out there that could take down a Contention, well...not anymore at least." It brought a smile to his lips when he recalled Mertaal and his band from a lifetime ago. "It certainly isn't the Protectorates doing..." He'd had constant reports on their movements, as best their scouts and spies could ascertain they hadn't ventured that far along. "I'll look into it, Admiral."

"Will you be taking the Hand of Fate?" He looked almost concerned at the prospect.

"I shouldn't think so. She's the most powerful ship in the fleet, besides the Jupitus, and far more useful here, coordinating the fleets." That seemed to appease the man, his face practically shone relief.

"I'll send a team. We'll find out what happened." The man saluted and turned on his heel.

The Widow Maker
Enroute to the Lyran System
Eighteen Hours Later

"And that's why we're here, any questions?" Norongachi asked the group of 'volunteers' he had assembled for this little outing. Most, if not all, seemed either annoyed at having been selected or wondered just why the Lord Marshall himself was leading what was basically a search and rescue mission.

He was bored. Was the answer.

[member="Rhoujen"] [member="Anesia Jy'Vun"] [member="Subject: Gyossait"] [member="Gravesen Conclave"] [member="Marek Starchaser"] [member="Ikki Ike"] [member="Seanna Vel"] [member="Neskar A'toll"]

 

[Ikki Ike]

Ikki stood in the back listening to the reports from the Lord Marshal, her hands clasped in front of her while she stood in the Sanctum Maid outfit letting the thin hide gleam with reflec while her Sanctum Slicewire gloves were on her hip in her pockets with two Injector Pen's as well as reloads for it, her Thorn of Ryloth secured near her Monofilament net launcher. She remained still with her small frame and stature now healed and repaired from the brawl with the princess on Naboo. "Understood Master."

 

[Subject: Gyossait]

Gyossait simply stood and listened since he didn't have much input on the situation at hand, let alone a better idea than anyone else he was around. The creaking of his leather pilot's suit might have been a small distraction to some if they weren't paying full attention to the Lord Marshall as the clone shifted about to scratch the back of his neck. Finally with a sigh, he shifted his stance, peering over his shoulder and around at the others who volunteered for this mission. His eye caught Gravesen and a subtle grin spread across his face as he leaned over to him, trying to shake the bordeom of having to stand and listen. "Any idea what this is all about? I'm clueless here."

[member="Gravesen Conclave"] [member="Salem Norongachi"]

 

[Anesia Jy'Vun]

The face of the General offered nothing to the eye in particular, closed-off was the guarded emerald gaze, the barest of smiles- a thin line of pale pink- hinting at... something devious? Something amusing? It was hard to tell aesthetically. Her mood was just as hard to gauge, even if [member="Salem Norongachi"] himself tried. Both arms were crossed under her chest, fingers ensnared upon the uniform's starchy fabric while her shoulders pressed against the interior wall. Dark hair was more or less tapered or fashioned into a sleek bun, baring the starkness of her features. Anesia appeared more dead than alive these days, aside from the cool viridian glow of subterfuge for eyes that seemed not cast at one, but all.


Something was off. Terribly off since Naboo and this had been her first appearance since then. Jy'Vun was nothing more than background noise for now.

 

[Corey's OOC]

So, for whatever reason, Marek Starchaser was coming to this world. Mainly because there was some sort of ASA ship that went down.

And merchants.

Which meant money to be made.

And no fry cooks.

Which meant Marek was going to show up, and see what he could salvage, and see what the hell was going on. People going after merchants? That was just silly. And for Marek to travel with the ASA ships? Not exactly. He needed to keep himself as a merchant, and that meant he was flying in on his own. A pair of Hydra War Droids, sans the upgrade, and Alana. The Vagrant Wind was following the Widow Maker by a few hours and he was really just in time for the landing.

“Widow Maker this is Starchaser. We’re here to offer assistance.” Hopefully Resource Chasing and Transit, would be sending a few of their droids with tractor beams, just in case.

 

[Prime]

The downloaded program was simple. Report to the Widow Maker, to Marshall [member="Salem Norongachi"] and await orders. Prime had survived the trip to Naboo, but not without damage. The left arm had been replaced with one covered in Omega battle armor, while the right arm was upgraded with pieces of a fallen Knights Obsidian’s armor. The unit was a hodgepodge. Always had been, always would be.

Being flanked by a unit of 12 Clankers, which with the new upgrade allowed Prime to work as a central control unit to the reformatted and retrofitted Clankers. It would allow Prime to view 13 streams of data and work the squad flawlessly. The unit was pleased.

Looking around at the gathered, and hearing the word on questions, Prime did not move. Neither did the clankers. They would get their waypoints for searching, and hopefully doing rescuing.

Or at least ripping limbs from enemy runtimes.

 

[Neskar A'toll]

Neskar hung near the bridge, a looming presence. Constantly in his armour, the solid beskar'gam shell that encompassed his entire body, he stalked around the flagship for all of the time he was aboard. Norongachi had asked for him especially to assist him in this endeavour. It felt a privilege. For Salem, that was. Still, he still felt pain almost cripple him at times from that wound from Teta. The one below his arm. That hurt. That hurt like a forlorn bastard. He scowled underneath his helmet. The bounty hunter had sworn to obliterate the one who did that. That reminded him, he still needed to root around for that scum. The pain would subside; the insult to his pride? Eternal. His lack of victory stung, though he didn't exactly lose. But still, he had to adapt, morph his ability to hide the festering wound of defeat. He would adapt or die. As was the way of the warrior, if one did not adapt to their situation, death was certain.

And adapt he did. For weeks he had tracked targets in the firing range and refined his combat style for closer ranged attacks. Using both brute force and speed, he could swiftly leave crushing blows on joints and exposed areas, crippling the area for a short while. His shots were more accurate, more effective, faster. Improvement was inevitable. And so was victory. Whenever some pencil pusher asked him who, what or why, Neskar gave a chilling glare and replied with only, "Ask Salem." They rarely asked questions. He spent his nights drinking and sharpening his beskad - the foot long machete - preparing for his future endeavours. His father had always told him, before his unfortunate demise: "A sharp blade is a sharp mind, a sharp mind is a sharp warrior." Sharp was an understatement.

And so, Neskar stood, glaring at Salem. That reminded him. He needed to talk to the boss. And soon. After this mission. The matter of pay was alluring.

@HWD-001 "Prime" [member="Marek Starchaser"] [member="Anesia Jy'Vun"] [member="Subject: Gyossait"] [member="Ikki Ike"] [member="Salem Norongachi"]