A variety of sentients had gathered aboard the starship known as The Godless Matron. A converted Lucrehulk class capital ship, it now served as a base for the more criminally inclined members of the Dark Jedi Brotherhood. 8 individuals had been summoned to a particular meeting room, hired by the Shroud Syndicate to deal with a problem. An issue that required a bit of discretion and quick action.
The meeting room was lavishly decorated, with several tables containing hover chairs capable of accommodating all manner of species and heights. A spread of food and beverages, some alcoholic some not, were laid out among the tables. The center of the room was largely clear, save a single massive holoprojector, encrypting hardware, and speaker equipment.
As the group entered they could see the symbol of the Shroud Syndicate emanating from the holoprojector. A voice distorted by technology addressed them directly.
“Welcome to the Godless Matron. Please take a seat and indulge in the provided refreshments if desired. We will get started shortly.”
Oh kark, yes, there is food. Dusa grabbed a plate and started to stock it up with various meats and carbs there was that were provided.
Then she let out a loud gasp when she saw ✨ S O U P. ✨
“Oh, kark! YES!” Dusa yelped as she put the plate down and started to scoop massive spoonfuls of soup and filled the bowl to the brim. She brought the dish to her lips and sip some off to prevent it overflowing.
“This is AXE-CELLENT! SCHUTTAING!”
Alex sat leaned back in a chair, one booted foot up against the side of the holoprojector. He had been here a little while already, and had made himself a rather tall drink - now half-empty - while he awaited the arrival of the others…or the person that had called them here, whichever came first he wasn’t concerned with. As the voice came from the device, he tilted his glass toward it.
“Thank you ever so kindly, I have already quite availed myself.” His other hand idly spun his helmet, overturned and palmed as if it were a sports ball. The twin blaster pistols hanging at his hips dangled a bit beside the sides of the seat, swinging freely. The exclamations of the near-human, ever so excited for a bowl of soup, brought forth a deep chuckle from him as he took another long sip, hissing a bit on the backend as the burn hit his throat.
Pouring some Correllian whisky from the ornate crystal decanter Xoni had an uneasy feeling about this. When approached by the Shroud Syndicate to bring his criminal network into their fold he hadn’t planned on doing field work. He expected to be a supplier and information broker to them. They wanted goods and information from the core worlds. His headquarters on Correllia offered them just that. Now he was sitting on the Godless Matron as part of a team doing who knows what.
He had crafted his persona of a import export tycoon perfectly. This had the chance of blowing that out of the water. One Small slip up and he would be exposed. He took a cursory sip of the whisky to calm his nerves. At least it was a good whisky. Not the best he ever had but well above average.
Jon leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the back in a relaxed posture, the other holding a bottle of Nal Huttan rum, and his wide-brimmed hat pulled down over his face as he surveyed the gathering.
It wasn’t easy to get away from Kiast for little soirees such as this one. The Jedi he had thrown his lot in with didn’t exactly approve of the Shroud Syndicate at the best of times, and with the ongoing tensions between Hoth and Sunrider… well, Jon couldn’t be expected to give up all his fun, now could he?
Officially, he was doing scouting work for the Sentinel Network around the edges of the Chaos, and if Tisto asked, that was what Artemis would report he was still doing, spin some yarn about getting held up by the Chiss Ascendancy or some such. That would pass muster for a week or two, more than enough time to forge a few new business contacts and establish some new lines of information that would ultimately be for the benefit of Odan-Urr.
What the Jedi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
Cole was one of the many who’d already been present before the voice spoke, a glass of water in hand and sat properly in his chair, equipment within arms reach and content with at least an empty chair between himself and the nearest person. Only one of the faces present here were familiar to the Human and being able to maintain a view on them was useful.
He remained quiet, sipping the drink and observing those he’d been hired to fight alongside. At least it should be a more normal job in comparison to the karking Scimitar hunt the Envoy Corps was on.
Dusa had a hot steaming bowl in one hand and the plate in the other. The silver haired female turned on her heels and crashed right into Xoni.
Her reflexes was enough to save the soup. Not the food as it clattered onto the floor. “Ope! Sorry!” She grinned at Xoni, set the nearly spilling bowl onto the table as she squatted down and started to pick up the food one by one to put onto the plate. She took a bite of one of a chicken leg and handed it to Xoni, completely ignorant of the fact that there was marks of grease and sauces on his suit.
“Wamna bite?” Dusa asked with her mouth full.
“As for the reason you have all been called here.” The synthesized voice continued. “The Brotherhood has a large problem. A Hutt problem to be precise.”
The holoprojector image shifted from the Shroud symbol to a truly massive Hutt. The gargantuan creature was a hulking monstrosity, easily double the size of the average Hutt. Metallic plates poked out from slug like flesh. A series of subdermal armor plates and injectors visible to the eye.
“This is Abraxas the Hutt. He is an ambitious creature, even for a member of his species. And he has become a threat. Brotherhood intelligence has observed the Hutt making a number of alliances. And he is currently expanding into Brotherhood space.”
The holographic image shifted once again, this time to a planet covered in deserts.
“This planet is Xerath. It lies within Brotherhood space but has not officially been colonized by any clans or the council. We have observed that the planet is ideal for the production of Spice but know little else about it. You all are to investigate Abraxas operations on the planet and put a stop to his growing influence in our territory.”
“Watch the suit!” Xoni harshly replied as he grabbed a napkin off the table and began cleaning himself. His pristine white suit now stained with sauce.
“I think this is the right place…”
Katrila said quietly to Tagrei as the pair strode into the Godless Matron’s meeting room. She’d only been on the Lucrehulk-class battleship a couple times before. Until recently she had eschewed the Brotherhood’s Shroud Syndicate in favor of her own business affairs. But, even in the galaxy’s underworld, networking was everything. So here she was, a crime boss turned womp rat. At least she’d convinced the Devaronian medic to accompany her. Among her many talents was knowing just the right moment to make an ask—especially of him.
The distorted voice emanating from a holoprojector confirmed that this was indeed the briefing’s appointed location. She elected to ignore the refreshments, lavish though the spread seemed. When it came to jobs, her motto was catch, kill, then eat. Instead, she eyed her fellows assigned to the case as she padded directly to a chair. A motley crew, by the looks of it. Was that the eccentric man from dinner and the rest stop? He seemed to follow her everywhere.
The Sith nodded as the mysterious voice outlined the somewhat open-ended objectives. She was somewhat familiar with Abraxas; her own Hutt harbored only disdain for the extra-corpulent upstart who didn’t respect the sacred concept of turf. If Vorga couldn’t teach him that actions had consequences, the Brotherhood certainly would.
Reaching into one of her many pockets and satchel bags to retrieve a datapad and tap in notes as the boss continued his exposition.
“I can only hope that this mission goes by more smoothly than your last one,” commented Tagrei while looking to his togorian companion with a sidelong glance, “At least I’ll be here to treat your wounds this time.”
Although his line of work ensured that he was no stranger to purely transactional relationships, part of him wondered if she’d asked him to accompany her for his skillset alone or so she could have someone familiar with her. With it being the first of his three off days at the shelter back in Lower Korda, he’d had nothing planned for the day, anyway, so he’d jumped at the opportunity to get out and make use of his free time.
Listening to the voice emanating from the holoprojector closely, Tagrei folded his arms across his broad chest and furrowed his brows upon hearing the name Abraxas the Hutt.
“Wonderful …”
Fortunately, he’d never had the displeasure of meeting the up-and-coming crime lord, but he had treated many a victim of his legendary tirades during his work with various criminal employers.
The doors swept open as Morax Darkblade barged into the room, announcing his sudden but late arrival. As he eyed the food laying on the table and bits of it scattered on the floor, his gut wrenched in disgust as he saw the other seven members who had been called into the mission. He had walked into a den of defect, disgustingly tall carbuncles.
Slobs, every single one of them he thought to himself.
Sighing, he walked over to the nearest empty seat that wasn’t sat next to one of these monstrosities and sat down in it.
The amount of Force sensitives in the room stirred up an appetite in him that couldn’t be stilled by the poor choices of food or drinks strewn about the table. Perhaps he would feed on one of these jumbo meals if they let their guard down.
Dusa was off-putted by Xoni’s hissing and fret over a suit. Why would he wear something so fancy to a mission like this?
“Eeesh. You could’ve just said no.” She shrugged as she placed the bitten food onto the plate and got up. Made sure to grab the bowl, the half-Rattataki made her way to the table and carefully set the plate down.
She sat down by another bearded man, “Careful of that one over there, he’s a tad grumpy,” Dusa whispered and winked as she brought her legs up against her chest, her hot bowl of soup rested on her knees and she wasted no time to start eating.
While she listened to the device and watched the images, she was eating her soup. Her chewing had slowed down at the word Spice. She had… history with it.
“Alright, any other hidden requirements?” Dusa started as she set the spoon down in the bowl for a moment. “With him being a threat, do we need to take him in, alive?” While she waited for an answer, she resumed eating.
<@476595775187451913> <@102435651189743616>
“The Syndicate doubts that you will have the opportunity to deal with Abraxas directly. If you do, we can accept either lethal or non lethal action. The primary objectives for this mission is to learn more about the Hutt’s facilities on planet Xerath and take actions to weaken them. Sabotage, slaying his guards, finding intelligence, freeing any enslaved workers, are some examples of the actions we are hoping you will take. Your rewards will depend on how effective you all are. Oh. And may we suggest bringing along vehicles? Xerath is a vast desert. You will want to travel long distances at an expedient pace.”
“We likely want to go quiet then.” Cole spoke for the first time since entering the room, glancing toward the others before adding on with quiet consideration, “Or at least be in two groups so there’s a distraction while others enter quietly.”
Morax nodded in agreement.
“Perhaps split up on the surface once we know exactly what we are dealing with. I don’t know what intel we have now, but it could already be outdated. Best to do our own recon and form a plan with our boots on the ground. This Abraxas seems very crafty for an already crafty and slippery species. Hutts are nothing to be taken lightly. His alliances could already be moving pieces whilst we are sitting here,” the Anzati said confidently.
“I’m fine with being on either team,” Tagrei stated, “What are we going to do about transportation, though?”
“I think I can help with that,” Jon spoke up. “I’ve got my own ship, the Grande Carnivale in the hangar as we speak. You won’t find a better vessel when it comes to getting places undetected. She’s the slyest bird in the sector.”
“The Syndicate will allow you to complete this operation however you choose. Our current intelligence points to 2 sites of interest on the planet. A structure that is likely an outpost of sorts and a primary spaceport for the Hutt’s forces. We have also noticed a spice refinery but would like you to avoid the location at this time. We have plans in motion for that location of a rather delicate nature.” The holocall chirped.
Slurrrrrp.
Dusa was just enjoying her soup. Her plate of food had already been emptied and now she was tackling the warm bantha cubed steak with vegetables soup like there was no tomorrow.
She placed the empty bowl down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Fantastic, cause I have no vehicles to help out with this axe-pedition.”
“Show of hands, does anyone here have any ground-based vehicles on hand?”
“I just have my Solar Swoop. It won’t do us much good for mission such as this.” The Shaevalian responded.
The helmet was tossed in the air, flipping lazily over in an arc before being caught once more top-down in a rough palm. His brow furrowed in consideration as Alex took in the information being provided regarding the mission. A slight twist upward of one corner of his mouth at the exuberant consumption displayed by the young woman sat near him, so intensely focused on the soup. That sort of emotional ease during a mission briefing spoke of either great confidence or great naivete, and either possibility was both amusing and refreshing to the ancient Mandalorian. He casually set down his helmet on the table in front of him and began to speak.
“Given the circumstances of which we have been presented, I am afraid I will not be of much use in the more clandestine approach to matters,” the smooth drawl flowed forth with a practiced ease. “I am not exactly notable for the subtle approach, though were it possible to approach this in a diplomatic manner I would be first to step up for it. However, I am possessed of the distinct impression that our two approaches available to this issue are either one of subterfuge or one of destruction…and I certainly know between those two which I am more suited for. I do possess a ship, though more suited for luxury than combat at the moment, but I am afraid any of my more terrestrial vehicles are still deep in mothballs at this time.”
The twin blaster pistols were drawn and he began to idly spin them about his trigger fingers, casually flipping and tossing about the pistols to keep his hands and mind busy while the rest of the squad figured out how they wished to approach the assignment.
“I have a ship ready that can get us into visual range of our assignments and dish out damage if absolutely necessary. However, it won’t be able to carry all of us. At most, seven of us if we have a pilot amongst us. Otherwise six,” the Anzati offered. Though not what he would prefer since his assets were too valuable to him to be offered lightly. He’d perhaps ask for a bigger cut of the rewards should they succeed.
“Aw, haven’t you smuggled anything in before?” Dusa grinned as she tilted her head back, looking at the man who was offering their ship and brought up they can only hold a few people.
“One,” She stuck her finger in the air, “I can help with the piloting! And two!” Her finger changed from one to two as she looked at the people around.
“Yea, I can see we can make something work. There’s always the cargo bay area, laying on the floor, hanging out in medic bay if you got one, sitting on someone’s lap, and so on- oh my stars-” Her stormy eyes widened as she spotted something on the buffet table, “-are those donuts!?” Dusa hopped up from her seat and made her way over to nab a donut.
“You know, we can do two ways. One team stealth in, the other can try that…” She gestured to other bearded man that she sat down with earlier, “Diplomatic way and the plan B would be destruction.”
She took a bite of the donut and realized something, “Oh! And my name is Dusa.”
Katrila’s whiskers bunched together as she scrunched her face. The prospect of cramming in the tight quarters of some stranger’s ship like a can of sardines didn’t exactly appeal to her. Creature comforts tended to rate high on her list of priorities.
“Katrila,” she interjected into the conversation by way of introducing at once herself and her remarks. “If we have no ground vehicles, it seems fact-finding at the spaceport is in order.” Her eyes darted to Dusa for a beat. “…And my freighter can easily fit us all.”
“Well unless there’s something else we need to know, we shouldn’t delay any longer,” commented Tagrei, he stepped forward so he was standing just to Katrila’s right. A quick, light touch on her arm followed, “You ready?”
“Absolutely,” Katrila responded, her silken voice carrying a note of confidence underpinned by steely resolve. She rose to her feet in one smooth motion, then turned on the pads of her feet to begin walking to the door. “One can’t tarry with Hutts about.”
Dusa watched the pair that was making their way to the door with confusion as she glanced back to the team before back to Katrila and the Devaronian whose name she doesn’t know just yet.
“Um, before you two leave, I think there’s still needed some discussion of who will do what? Especially since apparently we got two ships? Yours and err- what’s your name?” She turned to look at the male that looked human that offered his ship up earlier.
<@179267754145218560> <@629429326290485286> <@1056685516441006091> <@432543120635461643> <@583854106599489557> <@102435651189743616> <@230809550297497600>
“Captain Jon Silvon, lately of Odan-Urr,” Jon replied. “And yes, my Grande Carnivale would slip right past any hutt’s sensors, guranteed. I can get us onto that planet with nary a soul the wiser.”
“I believe, yes, it behooves us to divide this operation into two fronts between our two viable ships,” Alex’s voice became slightly tinny as he put his helmet back on and the voice amplifier took over, while striding across the room toward the door. “The spaceport seems a more likely first target, and if we are fortunate we may even secure some ground transport there with which to approach the outpost since it seems we are as a whole a bit lacking in that department.”
Turning on a heel and sweeping a glance across the others gathered there, he held up his left hand palm outward as he continued.
“I propose that those of us less suited to stealth and subtlety perhaps broach an assault upon the spaceport, drawing attention and thinning the oppositional forces. I can lead that assault. This will provide a distraction and allow those who are adept at such things to slip around the ‘back’ as it were and infiltrate the spaceport. Once a proper reconnoiter of the facility has completed and any information gathered,” his other hand raised similarly, “we break off the attack and retreat to a rendezvous point to meet with the stealth team and approach the second point-of-interest. We could, in theory, arrange a similar approach to the outpost but I believe that is something better discussed when we are farther along, as we may obtain some relevant information from the spaceport that changes how we wish to deal with the second site.”
“So,” he brought his hands together, clasping them in front of his chest as he finished addressing those assembled, “now the question of the moment becomes, who will be sliding in behind to learn what we may, and who wants to come along with me and cause some ruckus?”
Tagrei nodded. “That sounds good to me. I’m not good at stealth but I can join you in assaulting the spaceport. Will probably be good to have a medic there, too, in case things go awry.”
“I’ve already offered to lend my bird to the stealth operation. Anyone who wants to come with me has a seat on the Carnivale, and we’ll see what we can learn.”
“It sounds like you have developed a plan of action. Most excellent.” The projection mused. “We would suggest that the group finalize their preparations and begin traveling, as we are unsure how long the Hutt will remain absent from his territory. Strike while the iron is hot and all that.”
.
Planet Xerath Wild Space
Xerath was a desert planet. Devoid of traditional life forms, the planet was inhabited by a breed of massive Krayt Dragon that sustained itself upon the planet’s natural spice production. Said spice had been the reason that the Hutt Cartel had sought out the planet; hoping to profit from refining the material into a variety of narcotics.
In addition to the spice refinery the planet was home to 2 other installations. One was a remote outpost, collecting data on the coming and going of the Krayt dragons and ensuring that Abraxas men were well informed of any upcoming attacks. The other was the primary spaceport. Massive structures built of reinforced sandstone and durasteel dominated the landscape. Landing pads large enough to accommodate capital class ships or several smaller vessels kept the spice trade flowing. Several defenses had been built to protect the investment. Chief among them was a tall spire which served as a communication network, air traffic control, and sensor hub.
If the stealth team were to land without notice it was this structure that would need to be destroyed.
“The plan is,” Alex spoke confidently from the pilot’s seat of the cockpit aboard the Herald of Entropy, “we sweep in low and fast with a quick strafing run at the defense emplacements. They will almost certainly see us coming but we should be able to dodge most fire, and soak what we can’t.” The approach to Xerath had been overall uneventful. The planet was focused on trade of a sort - even if it was black market spice trading - and as such didn’t put all that much in the way of obstacles for people trying to get there. The complication was what this team was going to have to do in just a short minute now.
“Once that run is done, we move. Drop the ship on a no-frills hard landing, entrance ramp already open. We are out the door and on the assault, hopefully while the Hutt’s forces are still gathering themselves from the initial attack. …Now, in the interest of full transparency - seeing as we all end up very dead if we kark this one up - I will say that it has been a fair while since I have had to do any combat piloting, so I would recommend strapping in for this maneuver.” Alex laughed as he spun the chair back to face out the front viewport of the ship, shooting a wink to Dusa in the co-pilot’s seat as he passed, and leaned heavily onto the yolk pushing the ship into a steep dive from just inside the planet’s atmosphere aiming directly for the spaceport.
Wonderful. Cole thought to himself but contained it. He was already firmly buckled in but did take the moment to test the harness.
After a moment he did speak,“We’ll need to hold a line once on the ground, stick together at least until we’ve worked out a firm lay of the land. Is everyone’s communicator on and functional?”
Dusa whooped as she buckled up and patted Alex on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry, I’ve done buncha combat piloting but uh,” she glanced around inside the ship. “Not to a big ship. Hey! First for everything!” Dusa had to refrain from making a joke in which she quickly grabbed her datapad to send a message:
Axe-calibur: I almost made a dirty joke on my mission hee hee, remind me to tell you about it, just use these words, big ship, first time.
She put her datapad away and glanced over to Cole. She was glad at least this team liked the idea of sticking together. It was a worse pain in the ass to get seperated. Last time that happened, she got shot in the ass.
Her poor butt-
“Yep! My comms is very functional!”
<@102435651189743616> <@432543120635461643>
A weequay pirate lay slumped in his chair. A series of lights illuminated the dashboard in front of him, startling the being awake.
The being looked at the electronics in front of him. The sensors had detected a large piece of matter approaching Xerath. Matter that registered as having signs of life on the scanner. That could only mean one thing.
“Thats the atmospheric alarm, we got a ship coming in.” The pirate sent over Comlink as he activated the base alarms.
The quiet base began to become a buzz of activity. Scoundrels deep into their cups staggered to retrieve weapons and move to assigned positions.
The base had two defensive anti air towers. Unfortunately for the Hutt soldiers a sandstorm had shorted one of the towers out several days ago. And the repairs were not urgent enough to warrant immediate service. The remaining tower began to hum as electronics became active.
A message came back a few minutes later. It was a set of emoji icons and the words "I like big ships and I cannot lie".
Alex gritted his teeth as the sizzle of blaster fire ripped past the ship. They had noticed them coming immediately - of course they had, because why would it ever be easy? - and gotten their defenses up and firing in what must be record time. The sole saving grace is that it looked like they had let them fall into a bit of disrepair. If both guns were active, it seemed likely the only thing that would be landing here would be shrapnel and gooey bits of would-be assaulters.
The shields flashed as he yanked the stick, sending the ship spiraling off to the side away from the defense turret and leveled off just before they hit the ground. Flicking the switch to open the bay doors before the landing struts were even fully settled, he hurled off the restraint harness and made haste for the rear of the ship.
“Any landing you can walk away from, huh? Time to get a move on! They know we are here…just like we wanted.”
Her comm vibrated with a new message and sadly, Dusa didn’t have the time, just yet, to check what it said. But her heart had skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure if it was the excitement of the adrenaline rush or that she got a respond back.
Maaaaybe a bit of both.
Dusa hollered after Tagrei and targeted the enemies that he wasn’t aiming for-
That was, until a steady line and blasts of blasters started to aim for her.
“Kist!” Dusa narrowly dodged the blasters and had to slow down for a moment.
“Guys! What do you say we put down the blasters and talk to each other hand to hand!?!”
The pirates, although quite inebriated, had no desire to throw away their weapons and engage an intruder.
“Now why the kriff would we do that? Blast her boys!”
Cole had moved into position, sitting near the back of the group overall but with angle to have a clear look past those he was with and at the enemy.
They spoke and moved forward, one charging ahead. Undoubtedly about to clash with Dusa so Cole aimed just past the first pirate to the second closest. Who wasn’t wearing nearly a good enough helmet to survive a sniper round.
The blast flashed over the shoulder of the closest, striking the target in the forehead. Not.. a clean kill but the Human didn’t have time to consider the poor shot in his opinion, moving slowly behind the rest of his team.
There was no subtlety, no stealth or artifice to Alex’s approach. He strode confidently out of the rear of his ship and toward the facility. Light shone off the gold and silver trim of his armor and blaster bolts streaked both toward and away from him. A searing hiss of energy tore through the air and he tilted his head slightly to the left causing it to just barely miss him. Almost as if guided by the shot that had just come his way, Honor sprang up and responded, his assailant’s arm vanishing into a burning mist all the way up to the elbow.
Another bolt of plasma glanced off his chestplate, dissipating harmlessly but carrying just enough force to spin him a slight bit. The impassive faceplate of his armor stared directly at the Trandoshan who shot him, who was now scrambling to find cover. One booted footfall, the crunch of sand and rock beneath another, another…the crackly countdown of his impending doom. Just as the criminal found a likely rock to dive for, a flash ripped through his torso, leaving behind a gaping hole as a corpse slammed to the ground.
Spinning both pistols around his trigger fingers as the Trandoshan Tripler units on them slowly cooled, Alex calmly pivoted on his heel and faced toward his remaining foes, an intimidating figure in flat black standing out against the desolate terrain.
.
“Because I am devilishly cute and charming!” Dusa retorted.
While chaos unfolded aboard the station, not a one of its crew (so busy fighting for their lives) was paying any attention to their sensor screens. If they had, they might, just might, have noticed an ever-so-brief blip. They might, were they not otherwise engaged at present, have dismised it as ghost data, perhaps a meteorite breaking up. Perhaps, just perhaps, they would’ve noticed that the signal was far too uniform for that, and one may even have realized it for what it actually was.
But they were far too preoccupied for that, and so the blip was there, and then it was gone, all unnoticed.
“All present and accounted for?” Jon asked, taking one look at the team that had assembled in the interior of the Grande Carnivale. With that, he began the descent towards the planet, gliding smoothly through the atmosphere on pin-precision jets, the engines nearly silent beneath the crews feet.
As they neared the surface, Jon pulled the ship into low orbit.
“Now,” he said as they soared quietly over the wasteland below. “What exactly should I have my sensors on the look-out for?”
Fenrir Aboard the *Grande Carnivale*
The gargantuan wolf gave a low, glutteral growl with a small nod at Jon Silvon’s question of whether everyone was present. Usually, for those who know his mannerisms, such a growl meant yes. Turning back to the screen, he saw the ship start its descend from orbit towards the planet itself.
It had been a long time Fenrir had been away from missions, hunts, what have you. Even as the interstellar and planetary lights, and the blue flourescent lights of the ship itself shone on his face, he licked his lips. What a lot of carnage to be had today, he wondered insidiously. Even as he thought so, he telepathically communcated such sinster thoughts to his team mates all at once. It was a hunt, and they were the hunters.
Jon registered the heavily armed pirates heading towards their assault team, and frowned in concentration. He knew he could take them out with one salvo of the Grande Carnivale’s cannons, but there went any stealth he and Fenrir were trying to achieve.
Just as he was about to redirect the ship to intercept, mission parameters be damned, a heavily furred claw fell on his shoulder.
“Look, pirate,” Fenrir growled, pointing to the screen. “The prey retaliates, but is panicked.”
Jon saw what the canid was suggesting – their armor was haphazard and they fumbled with their weapons. The plan was working, they’d been taken completely off guard.
“Good catch, my friend,” Jon said with a grin, maintaining course. He flipped a switch on the comms.
“Captain Silvon here, just a heads up, you’ve got incoming, but they look about as prepared as me after a night on the town. Send in the welcoming party before they find their footing, savvy?”
As Alex shot off plasma and Dusa had the sense to move out of the way of the gunner’s direct path, Cole walked slowly down the ramp, waiting for the flaring lights to fade for a moment to identify a target. Suppressed as they were, Cole kept his eye on the position as the last shot filled the air and waited a breath before firing.
The shot struck true, leaving only 2 of the current forces. With more on the way, it was far from time to even consider celebrating but it was a good start.
The confident, steady stride continued toward the two foes which remained of the initial forces. The impassive visor of the Mandalorian helmet may as well have been the bony face of death as it advanced toward them, giving no hint of empathy or care for the lives of other living creatures at this moment. Morale broke and shaky legs began to drive the two men scrambling back toward their allies, but it was a journey they would never complete.
A clean, smoking hole sprouted in the center of each of their backs as they turned to flee. Honor and Glory had found them, but found them wanting. As he closed the remaining distance, Alex kicked their bodies behind some slight cover so as to not be completely visible to the approaching reinforcements and then took up position himself tucked behind a bit of wall which could possibly conceal him from view.
“We have just a short moment before more are upon us, but it should be enough I think to set up a little ambush if we are quick and smart about it,” Alex vocalized quietly into the comms unit built into his helmet. He gave brief hand motions as well, indicating other likely spots for cover and concealment from which he and the rest of Loud Team could lie in wait for the approaching reinforcements.
Jon and Fenrir exited the ship and made quick about it. There was no time to lose. On a mission like this, time is always on essence, always on your heels just like the next blaster bolt or the next lightsaber blade. Explosions and screams of death erupted from a distance: handiwork of the Loud Team. They sure are light about it, *thought Fenrir. Perhaps that’s why they dubbed their team the name?* He also wondered if he was in the wrong team, given that he was generally given to loud entrances, killing sprees, and the like. Nevertheless, he prodded on towards the primary communication hub, licking his fangs and flexing muslces that lay shrouded by the black veil of his fur.
As they went on, Fenrir became concious of a smell. Long years in the wilderness has honed his predetory senses. In fact, he could smell multiple nearbly sentitients at once. That’s what happened here. He could smell the sweat from more than one guard ahead. He could not see them yet nor the entrance to the communications hub, yet he knew this entrance was not unguarded.
This information he conveyed to Jon, so together they could device a plan quickly about getting inside.
Jon nodded to Fenrir, and held up a hand.
“I think I can take care of that,” he said with a grin. He knelt down next to the terminal on the door, and pulled a set of tools out of his belt, and set to work slicing into their comms channels.
The outpost communications systems were easily breached. Much like the other security of the structure, they were chosen with low credit cost upkeep in mind instead of actual effective security. Jon now had control over any outgoing transmissions from the building and the ability to tap into the individual com units of any enemies within the nearby area. Inside the building the technicians watched in disbelief as their system was easily subsumed. The quiet team could hear shouts of frustration from the workers on the interior, who had lost patience with their failed attempts to regain control of the system.
Jon grinned as he saw the decrepit system give way, and he was handed full access. He looked over to Fenrir and said with relish: “Watch and learn my fine furry friend. This is how you win a fight before it even starts.”
Hooking the outpost’s intercom to his own communicator, he activated the speaker systems within and said: “Attention all guards! The outpost is under attack! Dozens of battle droids are approaching! Evacuate now, quickly as you can! Fall back, and redeploy to the nearest outpost to reinforce! That means everyone!”
The communication system soon filled with a variety of responses, the vast majority complaints about the situation.
“Droids? Is it the Haxion Brood? Please tell me Abraxas didn’t anger the Haxion Brood.”
“Frak it man. We only have the one skiff. We’ll be cramped more than the time we got hit by that ionic sandstorm.”
Streams of mercenaries made their way out of defensive positions and began piling into an old but functional sand skiff. With so many people it would take several minutes for the evacuation to be completed. But not all had been fooled by the deception.
The troops and technicians within the comm center watched in horror as their allies deserted en masse. They were now in a difficult position. Would they try and hold the building against this unknown foe?
Fenrir grinned. He watched as confusion spread through whatever garrison there was. With those out in the open now, all that remains was to sabotage the communications building.
He said to Jon, “Nice work there!”
Jon nodded and said “Now for their communications. You hungry for a fight?”
Fenrir licked his teeth, and they both broke out into the courtward to join the Loud team in the fight.
Seeing that the resistance before them had dwindled, Alex cautiously holstered his pistols. A crackle of comms sounded from one of the fallen enemies as he trod past it, catching the barest hint of a report of a massive droid army incoming. A smile spread across his face, concealed behind the impassive faceplate of the helmet. Misdirection, misinformation, sow chaos… he thought to himself as he signaled to his compatriots using battlefield sign that they should advance on the last remaining position of opposition, the communications tower.
With the transmission of the false intelligence the odds had drastically swayed in favor of our heroes. The party had now regrouped just outside the last remaining stronghold, the communications building. Within the building resided the last of the pirates and mercenaries of the outpost. They were trapped and growing desperate. With no way to communicate with the outside world they had become cornered. But a cornered animal is the most desperate. Behind the sealed doors an unknown number of pirates had taken up arms. The party could hear the nervous shuffling of numerous life forms from behind the doors. How would the party face this last unknown threat?
“Keep the door clear.” Cole keyed in on the comms, keeping his voice low. It was hard to tell at first but there was a humming and.. the closer he listened the more the sniper recognised the energized weaponry Zuza once often used. “Energy weapons, potential Electro-staff.”
He waited for the group to shuffle accordingly, before approaching the door. They needed to create space and either flush them out or force a retreat. He pulled a grenade from his belt, the frag sitting heavy in his palm. Cole counted, before in a flurry of movement cracking open the door, slipping thr explosive in and slamming it shut, taking a few steps away and bracing for-
A few seconds passed.
Cole looked at the door, a frown steadily increasing in intensity under his helmet. Karking dammit.
A peal of nervous laughter reverberated from within the room.
“Oy, I think ya grenades a dud!”
Realizing the potential danger of the situation the remaining enemies decided to vacate the room. They had lost control of the doors and electronics. So they would find another way out.
BANG BANG BANG BANG
Loud noises began to fill the air as something of significant weight slammed against the doors, desperately attempting to open them. The doors dented and began to push outwards. But they held for now.
The party could hear several frustrated expletives and the hurried patter of feet.
“Not like that you fools. Little un, show these bozos how its done.”
Kark. Cole had to resist the urge to do a Sofila and kick something. Or punch something. The Human retreated to the group, his plan not including a dud grenade.
A dioxis grenade was summoned up. With him being the only one to really know the utilisation of explosives, Cole ended up taking the damn thing to the nearest vent. He popped it, covering the gaps of his helmet to breathe with an arm and getting into the vent as quickly as possible before retreating very quickly.
Soon enough, the coughing began.
“That was a good idea.” He commented quietly, waiting out those who were dying. This job was almost done.
Raspy coughs echoed throughout the building. The remaining pirates and mercs fell to the ground one by one; their lives cut short by the dioxis. Soon only 2 enemies remained. It would be up to the party to deal with the threat in a manner of their choosing.
Jon frowned and backed away from the door. While the sound of their enemies dying without a fight was always a plus (same pay, less work from him) the way that door bent and buckled outward didn’t sit well with him, and he wasn’t certain whoever or whatever did that had been finished off by the dioxide gas.
He held a hand to his teammates, and walked up to the door. Pressing a button, he activated the comms to the other side and spoke:
“Hello fellas. This is Captain Jon Silvon speaking. You may have heard of me? Regardless, now, I imagine it’s not a particularly pretty sight on the other side of their. That said, I want you to le a favor : look ‘round at the fates of your comrades,and tell me, is Abraxis really paying you enough for this? How about you open the door, let us on through, and we’ll pretend we don’t notice when you take whatever still flies around here and head off to greener pastures. Deal?”
“Utini!”
“What do you mean you’re giving up? We’ve got the firepower and they are still outside.”
“Utini.”
“…very well. Hold your fire, we are coming outside.”
With a few well placed words the remaining foes have been convinced to lay down their arms. With their comrades having persished or fled, learning that a foe of repute awaited them was simply too much.
The doors were forced open by a bulky trandoshan, who tossed an electrostaff to the ground and raised his hands in surrender. A small Jawa scampered out after him, placing a variety of mechanical junk and blasters down and raising its robed appendages.
With their enemies subdued or fled, the Brotherhood party had accomplished their mission in taking the outpost. Through a combination of force, stealth, and guile, they overcame the trials before them. But the criminal underworld is vast indeed and the time may come when they are called upon again. That is a story for another time, as this chapter has come to an end.