Tales of the Galactic Civil War (see OOC thread)

[Jane Starborn]

Kuat Drive Yards, 1 AE

Charges set.

The voice was barely audible in her earpiece, and the agent quickly moved to the side, making room for her compatriot who was coming back down the crawlspace. They huddled together in the semi-darkness, heads down as he pushed the button.

There was a pop. Jane's ears hurt as the air pressure tried to equalize between the service crawl and the droid closet they'd just penetrated with a tiny plastique explosive. She waited for Giddean to move, then crept after him, using toes and fingers only as she made her way around the sharp corner and up towards the welded vent they'd loosened.

After a moment of silence, both agents breathing with their mouths open, Giddean pulled on the blackened metal, widening the hole he'd made with the carefully placed charges. Jane slipped through first, her utilitarian dark green jumpsuit catching a little on a sharp piece of metal. She turned, reaching up and pointing out the offending point to the other agent, who bent it backwards before following her into the droid closet.

A deactivated protocol unit was propped against one of the walls, but other than that the charge ports were all empty. Giddean drew his blaster, holding it pointing up as he carefully opened the outer door into the corridor.

Jane drew her own service piece, muzzle pointed at the ground. After another long moment he slipped out of the closet, and then beckoned her to follow. The industrial passageway with its grey bulkheads and harsh lighting was in sharp contrast to the service crawls they'd traversed on their way there. She squinted a moment, then nodded to Giddean, taking point.

Their boots were covered with a soft grip sole, keeping their foot noise to a minimum without sacrificing traction on the shiny flooring. The only problem was that occasionally, if you weren't careful, the soles could squeak. Jane and Giddean had trained for days on how to walk without squeaking. It was funny, if you stopped to think about it.

Three doors to the right. Two on the left. Emergency escape pods twenty meters ahead and on the left. Turn right. Ten meters. Turn left. Jane led the way unerringly, and without a map, finally coming to a closed door. The closed door.

Giddean stepped up to the control panel, pulling a slice card from a pocket on his pants and sliding it into the electronic mechanism. Jane stood with her back towards him, scanning up and down the hallway. No one in sight.

The door opened with a slight hiss, and Giddean hooked his fingers in the crack, sliding it all the way into its recess. Jane followed him inside the room.

"Just like you said it would be..." His quiet vocalization snapped her out of her silent reverie, and it took a moment for her to nod. She pulled on the door, sliding it shut behind them as he walked to the bank of computer consoles that lined one side of the room. Other than the consoles, it was bare.

"You know, I didn't believe it."

Jane frowned, blaster still pointing down as she turned to face him. Why was he so talkative all of a sudden? They only had four minutes before the next patrol swung through this passage, and it would take two and a half minutes to download the data. "Didn't believe what?"

"That," he said, and she looked up from where she was digging a blank datacard from her pocket to find that he was gesturing at her head with his blaster. "Your memory." Giddean smiled, thin lips stretching back like some sort of reptile. "You are really like some sort of droid."

"Flattering," Jane said, 'card in one hand, blaster still in the other. "Stop fooling around with your weapon." A DL-18 blaster pistol, manufactured by BlasTech, Giddean's piece was cheap and common, and what nearly all of the Alliance members carried. Jane had one as well. It was moderately powerful, and would barely penetrate stormtrooper armor - and that was if you got a lucky shot.

They weighed about 1 kilogram, the BlasTech DL-18 was in the same manufacturing line as the DL-44, and its chief competitor was Merr-Sonn's Model 44. When one was pointed at your head, the small round hole where the highly compressed, focused high-energy particle beam would exit was quite riveting.

Jane looked at Giddean. His brown eyes looked mad.

"You must know such secrets." He still wanted to talk. The blaster wavered, but he stepped forward so that it was nearly touching her forehead. "The price for you... for your memories of Rebel fleet movements, personnel... I had to say yes. If it was true. And it is. You don't forget anything you see." He pulled out a commlink, moving closer to her as he looked down to activate it.

The business end of the DL-18 kissed her skin, and Jane reacted - slapping it away from her head while simultaneously chopping forward and up with her other hand as she ducked inside his reach. Giddean gagged, the BlasTech falling from his hand. He'd had his finger on the trigger guard the whole time, so no noisy shots were fired. Jane stepped forward, kicking his commlink away from his twitching hand, and walking to the bank of computers.

Giddean slumped on the floor, gurgling and trying to breathe through a collapsed trachea. Jane uploaded the data, stepped over his body, and slipped out of the door.

Half a minute until the patrol made its way down the passage. Turn right. Ten meters. Turn left. Three doors on the left, two on the right.

Twenty seconds.

Giddean had betrayed her. He had asked for her for the mission. They couldn't carry in lots of electronics because of latent scanners throughout their entry points. He needed her as a living map.

He needed to test her memory - see if she really had only needed to see their route once.

Ten seconds.

Jane Starborn made it back to the droid closet, closing it behind her.

Five seconds.

Her boots dangled through the bent ventilation grating, then disappeared. She crept through the service crawl, stolen data on the Empire's recent orders, ship designations and destinations, in her zippered pocket. She had scanned it as it had downloaded, data flying by on the vid screen.

The Interception was completed and to be delievered to Admiral Kraken's fleet in the Core at 0600. Inquisitor Haleen had ordered a personal ship with special cages built into the cargo area. A new type of TIE was under construction, desgination Wraith. CLASSIFIED. Expensive.

Jane was far away when the patrol discovered the body of the Rebel agent in the server room. But she would never be able to forget the feeling of the DL-18 on her forehead, or the crunch his windpipe made when she smashed it.

She would never forget the sting of betrayal.

[Ira]

Imperial Core, 6 Months BE



“Move it, move it!”

The space craft was in shambles. Sheer moments had wounded the once pleasant flight into a craze. One voice screamed out to the emptiness of space and it was Ira. He was young, and he was a spacer. No one knew his race, species, or creed, but he seemed human. The only thing that left the assumption an assumption was the ears. They pointed out a bit too far. Plus, he had this awkward dialect foreign to the Core Worlds. He wasn’t often found to the Core Worlds, though, but this was a special occasion.

He was on a mission.

The problem was that the mission was high-risk. Even with the strain of war echoing throughout the galaxy, the Empire remained strong. Stress only dented the hard hull of their defenses and offenses, it did not pierce it. So, when a planet was under the danger of trespassing they faithfully fulfilled their bully role.

No fool dare walk on Imperial lawn, but Ira was no fool. Ira was a spacer, and a good one at that. A lot of history had been under his name, and his beloved Black Star. Although times had been hard with private companies in such uncivil times, he had managed to find work and make ends meet. Also, he didn’t always dabble in the most legal means of working either, so he never was really out of the job.

Well, until someone decided to terminate him and his operation.

“Frell! Look at what they’ve got there?”

Ahead drop a cluster of TIE Fighters, ready and willing. The Black Star wasn’t any Millennium Falcon, and he wasn’t some lucky Han Solo, but he knew how to handle his. Ira had a well-groomed, enhanced YT-2000 and it could take damage. Not too much, of course, but it could take damage. Already the blasted defense was turning bad, and his hands were at a race to set-up his own energy shields to avoid any further damage. No direct hits had shaken the ship, but his own dodges had. The freight had some agility on it, especially since his upgrades back on Naboo a few years back, so a little jolt could through things up like an Onderon stir fry.

Before long the TIE Fighters were at him. One move, two moves, and they were at his tail, coordinating their assault. Ira was wary, aware. There was no chance they’d catch him slipping. In seconds, he re-routed the shields, re-directed the laser cannon, and jumped up. Not a moment was allowed to slip away as he dashed through the still room, up to the weaponry control.

“We got ‘em.”

Ira wouldn’t hear it, and he wouldn’t need to. The TIE pilots were bragging. Smirks came to their faces in unison as the duo fell in position, eyes on dart. Behind the veil of their helmets thoughts and training formulated the shot. There was no need for a targeting system; the ship was well within range. The two had done this far too many times. No one had gotten through their defenses…

Well…until now.

BOOM!!!

The blue bolt soared through, banged into the husk, and torched the ship into ablaze. It wasn’t the Black Star burning, though. No, Ira was a quick shot, and a clever one. He was a real grade A (well, more like B) ace. Years of luck, mistakes, and experience had made the man (or boy) into what he was. While the other flew stunned and raged at his lost, he was targeted. The two man squad was cut down in a matter of seconds, and in only three shots.

Ira was an ace, but not that good.

However, he wasn’t done. It was a cluster of them, not simply two. The remaining Fighters hadn’t the skill though. Just as the others, their coordinates were pre-determined, and easily adaptable. Ira had seen a lot, not all, before, and he was ready. There wasn’t a chance they were going to handle his excursion. This charade was only deliberation. The prize was already in his hands, he just had to grab it.

After a click to the comm. link, and a loosening of his lips, all was realized.

“What the frag, man? Get y’guys off me…”

“Ok, ok…One sec…”

There was always an inside man. Nobody could get around the galaxy without a good network. Any good spacer had to have a network all over the place, and a smuggler even more so. Ira simply knew the people most shouldn’t. He knew the good guys on the bad side, and the bad guys on the good side. The galaxy was a twisted place in this time, and Ira wasn’t going to play it straight. Captain Jeii saw it fit that the man’s run be complete. A lot of talking, discussing, and explaining had to be done, but the two went way back to Ira’s street performing days back on Taris. Jeii didn’t have the bons to turn down a friend who had saved his life twice.

So, in seconds, he was planet-side. In the shroud of darkness and mist of pollution he stood at the doors. His eyes bore through the cloud of stench and foulness. Balosar was one of the worst planets he had touched down on in a while. In the distance settled a bundle of eyes that shimmer through.

Buildings off in the distance casted menacing shadows, and the moon above didn’t spare its own glare. Nobody was at all pleased with this man’s actions, on this faithful day, but he cared not.

He knew what was right.

“Ay yawl…its aiite—c’mon.”

Slowly, the small, frail, bodies poked from the dim. The night cared for them, and showed their faces in their bruised beauty. Life had been harsh for most. The young did not deserve it. A snarl almost picked up his spite, his hate, but he kept it at bay. He was saving these young ones, these young slaves.
Soon more trickled from the shadows, stumbling up his steps. Then, the door slid closed.

The engines roared. The music danced. The road was ahead.

They were free, and all they could hear as he left the planet behind and the stars warped into a line of hyperspace was this:

“YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! BOOOOOOY!!”

[Tear]

Recount of events in the year of Pr'elar, by High Praetor Priest Jkriklr.

Arrival - What evil lurks in the darkness between those stars? This sky above us, it used to a be a place of heaven. Something out of reach but with the promise of serenity. Those stars blanketing the night sky, infinite in number, that could humble any being staring up at them. No matter how great you were the stars above were always greater. How true this was for our planet of Cartao when a dark wedge stabbed into the nights sky. The shape hung high, it cut the star light from the land, pulling the cloak of night ever darker over the sleeping city below. From its massive black belly the insects on glowing wings spilled. They fell over the city raining fire down upon the sleeping and awake alike. Leaving only the charred remains of those consumed in the flames of their wake.

Innocents all of them.

We in all our self prescribed might were humbled by the stars that night. Our cities were still smoldering when they came and began to round up the survivors. They sent us to dig into pits deeper then our highest mountains. Thousands died during these times as we dug ever deeper. I believed they would have us kept digging even through the hells of our gods until they found what was buried beneath.

They, those beasts from between the stars, were seeking a device born of our past. An artifact that had brought the stars down onto us before and seemed our fate was ever intertwined with it. In those earlier times our people were not as they are now.

In the past we soared through the heavens with our gods and visited their temples, traded with their peoples and because of these artifacts we prospered. As our people spanned out and grew large so did our pride. Tied hand in hand with our pride was this artifact we hid nothing and let bare our brilliance for all the heavens. Both the hells and the heavens answered soon after ravaging our world through war. When it was over the artifacts were all but destroyed and our people crippled.

No longer did we soar the heavens with the gods between stars. No longer did we take pride in our creations and our science faded to the ways of present. The elders planned this, teaching our people to stay humble under the guise of the heavens, and pray they would never notice us again. For a time they didn't...

Traders from the stars that were left stranded on our planet gave the beasts a name, The Empire. They used us as laborers forcing us to strip the planet raw of its every resource. When our people were not endlessly raping our planet we were sent to the camps. I mentioned before that under the Overseers thousands worked until death in the pits but those numbers pale in relation to the hundreds of thousands that died of starvation and disease in those camps. The ones that failed to work were stolen toward the heavens. Where rumors of dark and horrible monstrosities were preformed. Those that were returned, what few did, were mere ghosts, left gibbering in senseless tongue. Some even attacked their own people and fed on their flesh like rabid animals.

Finally the time broke upon us. We finally unearthed the artifact our people held so preciously. It did not take long for our people to forget the lessons of pride and they stole it away from our dark masters. One of the camps revolted, shedding their bonds and picking up weapons they managed to ambush and take back the artifact. The madness of it all. They don't realize that The Empire will destroy our people one camp at a time until they find it? Do they not realize the destruction? The artifact will be the death of us all, let them have it, I say.

They proposed to destroy it. I couldn't let them. When he asked me, the faceless one, I told him where to find it. From the skies they poured again burning down the very mountains my people had fled to with the artifact. They were slaughtered and the artifact was recovered, taken back into the heavens.

It has been three seasons since the beasts in bone white shells slaved our people. We have been barricaded in our last great city. It lies in decay and we remain prisoners in our own land but we live. Our elder council has made counts before the Empire our planet held nearly six million souls but now in Foulahn City only four million remain. Outside the city and in the skies The Empire still sits but we no longer dig, we no longer toil. Gods be fair we have given up the artifact. I have given up my honor and pride to betray my people but we live.

We live.

High Praetor Priest Jkriklr.


------------------Document Notes
Item: Journal.
Discovered. Temple District of Foulahn City Ruins.
Item Significance: One of only a few viable pieces of culture recovered after the events of Imperial Test dubbed "The Darkening."
-Test Type: Biological Weapon.
**Note Edit** Massive structural damage also resulted from weapon test.
- Weapon Test Results Foulahn City's complete destruction.
- The Eradication of approximately four million subjects.
- Successful creation of the anomaly dubbed a "wound" by Grand Inquisitor Tear.

Personal LOG of Inquisitor Mephis.

Computer Begin recording,

As an Inquisitor I have seen many seemingly hideous acts performed in the name of the Empire. To secure the peace and safety of the entire galaxies future but this campaign has shaken even my resolve.

The Grand Inquisitor advised us that the planet we were about to attack was a direct threat to the Empire. We attacked them without warning in the dead of night. They were not armed. Their people had no warriors. We were able to subjugate the entire planet in just under a weeks time. There was no resistance.

The Grand Inquisitor's word was all the insurance our guilty conscious needed to continue in our tasks of enslaving the planet. We took his orders and every day the labor camps grew smaller. We even stopped removing the dead from the camps by the gods we let them just rot and pile. These...aliens how could they possibly be a threat to the Empire? What were we really doing here?

I had my answer soon enough when one of the slaves uncovered an artifact. I use the term loosely as its ancient but the technology remains fairly advance even in our times. From the buzz the device uncovered is a Spaarti cloning Cylinder. These aliens apparently had been very advanced at one point in time. Maybe they could have been a threat...in ages past.

The Grand Inquisitor has returned with portions of the task force. Apparently they have uncovered another device of Sith origin. Word is that there will be a test on the last remaining city on Cartoa. By the gods, this is becoming too much, where does it end?

We left nearly a years ago on a crusade to exterminate pockets of rebellion and finally eliminate the threat of the Jedi. But our quest has been twisted onto some horrific path and I fear there will be no turning back after this day.

[Zeke]

Present year, 8:00PM Coruscant Time

In the crew lounge of the Curvy Lady, Cassandra Saska stood before a large holoscreen. Her stripe-socked feet tapped the game pad she was standing on as she considered what to do with the last few hours of her day. She'd been playing this game by herself for only a few minutes and was already tired. Their passengers weren't much interested in it, most being too timid to try the bizarre game in front of strangers, so she'd moved from the passenger lounge to here in the hopes of roping in some of the crew. So far, none had been interested.

The purpose of the game was simple; arrows fly about on-screen, and you step on the corresponding arrows on the pad. The more arrows you hit, the better your score. She was getting pretty good at it, but was tiring of playing alone. Zeke came in and stood on the pad next to her without realizing what he'd done. "What'cha doing?" he asked. She quickly navigated the menu to choose the multiplayer setting.

"WE are playing this game," she said, looking at him expectantly. "You've seen me play this one, right? Pick a music track." Zeke looked at her like she was crazy. She nodded at the pad beneath his feet, and he sighed. "Okay, let's do it." He chose the easy setting, and let the game pick a song at random. At first, he did fairly well. Arrows came at a relaxed pace, and he was able to keep up. However, as it progressed, the beat got faster, arrows filled the screen, he lost his position on the mat, and consequently, failed the game. Cassandra couldn't help but giggle. "Nice try," she taunted. "Care to try again?"

Zeke considered the game. The main issue was that he wasn't fast enough. Finding his spot on the mat was as easy as glancing down, and keeping his balance wouldn't be too hard so long as he could coordinate his feet. He was pretty sure he could handle that problem now that he'd had it, so...speed. "Oh, I'm just warming up," he said. "Let's try again." Cassandra hit retry, and Zeke stepped through the first half with ease. As the pace picked up, he glanced aside at his daughter. She was completely enthralled with her game, playing at a much more challenging and rewarding difficulty setting. Her intense concentration, energy, and expression of pure enjoyment made him crack a wide smile. Feeling the Force, Zeke began to work with the pacing, picking up speed gradually, trying not to cheat too hard so she'd believe he'd actually been warming up. After the music ended, the game displayed the results. Zeke made a show of being out of breath, and Cassandra whistled.

"Well, das't. Good job old man. So, shall we continue?" Zeke's reply was to start up another track. They played for hours, Zeke using the Force where necessary, using the game as a method to retrain his rusty Force Boosting. After two hours of play, Cassandra was legitimately exhausted, and Zeke pretended to be even more tired than she was.

"Good night. We should play again some other time," he said, hugging her as she wandered off to her quarters. The Captain looked around, and finding the lounge empty, locked it up and picked the highest difficulty setting. "Alright...let's get back into this groove." He pulled strongly on the Force and set his feet in motion, brow furrowed with concentration, smile broadening with each arrow he hit. "Love ya, Cassie," he muttered. "Thanks for the great training tool."