Star Wars: Wild Space (Closed, Started)

[Soviet Heavy]

I await the primary post. Let us know through a group chat of its arrival.

I will. It will probably be sometime early next week. This weekend is busy for me.

 

[Soviet Heavy]

I've created the usergroup and sent invites to all of you. Just chime in on the chat section to confirm you got your invite.

We will start sometime on Monday or Tuesday.

 

[Soviet Heavy]

STAR WARS​

WILD SPACE​

[hr]

The dagger shaped vessel was almost fully obscured by the dense particle cloud of the Nebula pocket. These small pockets of gas combined to form a spectacular view from deep space, but up close appeared as little more than passing clouds. It was still large enough to easily conceal the vast ship, now hidden in its center. Upon closer inspection, the vessel was scarred and pockmarked with blackened impact marks, small flames erupting into space from damaged points, before the encompassing vacuum snuffed their light from existence.

The star destroyer, Endeavor had spent the better part of two days within the cloud, undergoing extensive field repairs, hidden from the wary eyes of the Empire. In her bridge office, Captain Reah Telani was running over countless service reports, handing the completed datapads to her aide Jevan as he handed her yet more. They all said the same thing, the work crews were working too slowly. The longer they remained trapped in this dust ball, the more time the Remnant had to hunt them down. Reah would not be a cornered rat. This was her game, she was going to fight on her terms.

Snip

"Jevan, what's the situation with the port engine stabilizer? I thought Wok'la was going to have it finished by now?" Jevan flipped through the pile of datapads, searching for the correct one. Snapping his fingers in success, he passed her the appropriate file.

"The chief engineer says that it will take another four hours to finalize the corrections to the stabilizers. He recommends running the engine at ten percent energy output maximum. The other two engines will have to compensate."

Reah buried her head in her hands. "That cuts out sublight acceleration by a third. What about the Hyperdrive? Have the crews made any progress with repairs."

Jevan shook his head. "No, ma'am. The work teams have reported that several key components are damaged beyond repair. We do not have any backups, either." Jevan's look of apprehension grew larger as Reah's eyes flared with anger.

"Unacceptable, this whole situation is unacceptable. We're sitting ducks out here. Tell them to find a solution, or I'll find one for them that is decidedly less user friendly."

Shaking, Jevan nodded. "Yes ma'am."

Reah rose from her seat, heading for the exit. "See to it, Jevan. I'll be on the bridge."

[hr]

"Captain, we've received a response to the emergency distress call," said the Comms officer. "Three vessels have dropped out of Hyperspace, and are transmitting on secure channels. Their code authorization checks out, awaiting your clearance."

Striding down the center aisle to the observation window, Reah nodded to the officer. "Begin broadcasting our location in microsecond bursts, code pattern NR-064. Let them know where we are."

Several minutes passed as the code was transmitted. Reah stared out into the abyss. She was taking a risk, even with the code, there was the chance that the Imperials had gotten a trace of them. They had already gotten the drop on the fleet beforehand, and that had left the New Republic force completely vulnerable. Reah was hesitant to repeat that disaster, but this was a desperate situation.

Three vessels appeared on sensors, a trio of corvettes. Old standbys that reminded Reah of her time with the CSA, still being used today. She shook her head. They were old back then, and they'd probably continue to serve long after she was gone as well. "Open a channel to their vessels."

Snip

Snip

Snip

Snip

Snip

"This is Captain Reah Telani, New Republic Star Destoyer Endeavor. Identify yourselves and prepare to dock. You have already been cleared by security, but I wish to speak with you all personally. Colonel Crackmoore, take Commander Prax and your squadrons out for coverage. I want to be ready if the Empire tries anything."

snip

snip

snip

Snip

Reah's gut was telling her something was about to happen. Whether it was simple paranoia or precognition, she had learned to trust her instincts. Quietly, she ordered the shields be powered up, and counted down the individual seconds to the corvettes' arrival. She then made an address to the ship's troop complement, ordering them to be on high alert. Something was going to happen, and happen soon. The three corvettes might have answered their response, but none of them were New Republic vessels. Mercenaries, by the look of it.

Reah scowled at the thought. Working alongside scum like that might be the New Republic's prerogative, but it certainly wasn't hers. For all the corruption in the Corporate Sector, hunting down smugglers and gun for hire types was honest work. Siding with them was a betrayal of everything she had worked for in her career. Reah didn't have to like it, but Captain Telani had to live with it.

 

[TheDoctor455]

STAR WARS​

WILD SPACE​

[hr]

snip

Vora hurriedly donned her combat armor, concealed her slugthrower in her left boot, donned her helmet, and quickly scoured her quarters for her comm. Upon finding it, she tuned into the Captain's channel.

"Lt. Vora Duval reporting in ma'm," she saluted, a pointless gesture without any kind of holographics, but, some habits die hard, "Shall I prepare the troops for a breach?"

 

[Soviet Heavy]

Snip

"No, lieutenant. I just want the troops on high alert. Remain vigil and keep an eye out for anything suspicious. We're not fighting yet."

 

[drmigit2]

Quint's prototype ship, dubbed by him to be the Illusion was floating near the Republic claimed Star Destroyer. He was still cautious considering it was still an Imperial ship design, but figured that the Empire had better things to do than attack him.

"This is Captain Reah Telani, New Republic Star Destoyer Endeavor. Identify yourselves and prepare to dock. You have already been cleared by security, but I wish to speak with you all personally. Colonel Crackmoore, take Commander Prax and your squadrons out for coverage. I want to be ready if the Empire tries anything."

Apparently the Republic also had issues with controlling when its mics were on or not. Oh well, he figured that he really wasn't under attack now. The Mandalorian put the ship on autopilot to dock and stepped away from the controls, ready to exit his ship.

His armor was on, along with his helmet for now. The Republic was always itchy around Mandalorians and defense was always a problem. He would rather not fight right now, but the chance always seemed to want to produce itself. The door to his ship opened and he stepped out calmly. Troops surrounded him and quickly put their weapons down seeing him unarmed.

"Now now gentlemen, I'm not here to torch the place. I believe you guys hired me to do that to the Empire. Where is this Reah Telani person? Apparently she wishes to have an audience, and I am more than eager to oblige."

 

[TheDoctor455]

Snip

"No, lieutenant. I just want the troops on high alert. Remain vigil and keep an eye out for anything suspicious. We're not fighting yet."

"Aye, aye ma'am, Duval out," with that, Vora switched over to her squad's comm channel, "Attention, all Hull-Crackers report to hangar bay 1, get our breaching pod ready, stay alert, and standby for further orders. Meet you guys there."


Duval hooked her comm back onto her belt and quickly made her way to the hangar.

 

[FalloutJack]

It was something that occurred to him every now and again, that perhaps he should delegate the ledger-work to someone else, or even just one of the ship's droids. Unfortunately, as captain and generally the man that started this little adventure, it was sort of his duty to perform some of the dirty work. Sometimes, that was hard decisions or atrocious actions, and sometimes it was minding the numbers. Naturally, he didn't enjoy it, but it had to be done. Well...that is, at least until he was called to the bridge. They had received the distress message before and Niko had urged them to follow it, so the Dauntless Rex followed it until finally...

"Alright, what've we got?"

Marcus: Microburst transmissions, emanating from the nearby nebula. Course plotted already.

"Good, good... Uhh, Kevin? A little slower, please."

Kevin: I've got it handled...

"Now."

The ship reduced speed by one-third its previous velocity, and came within viewing range of the Destroyer hidden within the mist. Collectively, they stared at the thing. Niko let out a whistle as he looked over the damage.

Niko: Are parts of it...on fire?

"They must be in real trouble, then. Comms, if you would, matching channels."

The comms were open to the Endeavor, as per the other captain's wishes.

Snippo

"This is Masan-Ru, captain of the Dauntless Rex. The Republic and I have an agreement going, so I will be aboard shortly."

He walked out of the bridge and headed for his quarters. This wasn't a formal affair, but somehow he wanted to approach this with just a bit more style than his dark attire, so he stopped for the coat and - regrettably - none of his weapons. Masan-Ru trusted the wait of a fine arsenal a bit more than some people, but the Reppo captain of a badly-damaged ship wasn't going to try anything. At this stage of things, even HIS vessel could end it...possibly. He had on his red longcoat and as he exited his room he found a burly Saurian waiting for him.

Renn: You Rrrr going ahlone?

"I like to handle these matters personally."

Renn: Whoz in scharge?

"Marcus."

Renn: Mahcus?! Faaah! Wourthless scientisss...

"Hey, he's in the same boat as the rest of us and our line of work has made him more...seasoned."

The Saurian security chief grunted, but he didn't entirely agree. Nevermind. The report came in of docking completion and Masan-Ru headed on over to the Destroyer...to find a squad of guards waiting for him.

"Hah! No, it is you who fell for MY trap by coming here defenseless so you can't shoot me!"

They just...glared at him.

"It's a joke. Oh, nevermind... Your captain's expecting me. Lead on."

 

[Ruedyn]

Bejo was already in combat gear, he was practicing his knife skills. He had always preferred it, for whatever reason. Perhaps that was why he got shot so often. He shook his head, grabbing his rifle and moving out. His com told him to report to hangar bay 1, and get a breaching pod ready. He was happy to oblige, and began jogging towards his destination. He made it in fairly good time.
"Sir." Bejo offered in the way of gruff greeting. He checked over his rifle once more, all seemed well.

 

[TheDoctor455]

Bejo was already in combat gear, he was practicing his knife skills. He had always preferred it, for whatever reason. Perhaps that was why he got shot so often. He shook his head, grabbing his rifle and moving out. His com told him to report to hangar bay 1, and get a breaching pod ready. He was happy to oblige, and began jogging towards his destination. He made it in fairly good time.
"Sir." Bejo offered in the way of gruff greeting. He checked over his rifle once more, all seemed well.

Vora had arrived a few moments earlier and had just started a quick inspection when a newcomer reported in.

"Name and rank, soldier?" she asked.

 

[Ruedyn]

Vora had arrived a few moments earlier and had just started a quick inspection when a newcomer reported in.

"Name and rank, soldier?" she asked.

Bejo looked up from his rifle, putting it down and speaking clearly.
"Obath, Republic Marines, Gunnery Sergeant." He gave a small salute.
"Orders, sir? Breaching pods, correct?"

 

[TheDoctor455]

Vora had arrived a few moments earlier and had just started a quick inspection when a newcomer reported in.

"Name and rank, soldier?" she asked.

Bejo looked up from his rifle, putting it down and speaking clearly.
"Obath, Republic Marines, Gunnery Sergeant." He gave a small salute.
"Orders, sir? Breaching pods, correct?"

"That's right," Duval turned to face the breaching pod, "I want this glorified hauler prepped and ready for launch at a moment's notice. But, until we get orders to make for a breach, we are to stay in this hangar bay and be ready to stop any breaching attempt the enemy might make dead in its tracks, and well before they do any real damage. So let's get to it!"

With that, Vora turned back to face her squad and saluted them before heading over to the breaching pod to check on it herself.

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

Colonel Crakemoor and Glaive Squadron had been taking advantage of the two days of silence to get some much-needed sleep. Piloting in general - whether you were flying an alphabet-wing, a TIE, or anything else on the market, was exhausting, and out here on the front lines rest was something you took advantage of whenever you got the opportunity, because you never knew when you might get another chance. Calm, a chance to get the burn of stims out of the mind, eat a hot meal instead of a quick meal bar between sorties, and the most seductive siren of all, sleep.

A pilot also learns to come out of sleep at a heartbeat's notice. Her eyes snapped open, and a half-second later she figured out where she was. Just off the flight deck, reserve pilots bunks.

"Copy that, Captain." She clicked off her commlink. Pull her ship out of every mess she gets tangled in? Sure! But actually remember how to pronounce my name? Of course not. She flicked her commlink to the wing channel. "Commander Prax, scramble your squadron. Glaive Squadron will meet you voidside." She flicked off the comlink. "Up and at 'em, people! We've got incoming, so everyone to your fighters!" She - like the rest of her squadron - has slept in their flightsuits, so it was just a matter of pulling on boots, gloves, and helmets, a work of a few seconds before they were sprinting out into the hangar bay towards their craft, already being prepped for launch by the deck crew.

"All ready for me, Chief?"

"Primed and ready, Colonel. Haven't had a chance to fix the paint, but you should be one hundred percent."

She climbed the ladder like her ass was on fire and dropped into the pilot's seat, beginning startup sequence. Green lights came on all around her. "Glaive One, standing by."

"Glaive Two, standing by."

"Glaive Three, standing by."

In short order the rest of her squadron made their reports.

"Endeavor control, this is Glaive Squadron, we are ready to launch."

"Copy that, Glaive. You're cleared to launch. May the Force be with you."

"Roger that." She ran up the throttle, her X-Wing jolting out of the hangar bay, followed quickly by the rest of her squadron. "Glaives, lock S-Foils in attack position." A flick of her finger and her own were splitting apart, forming into the familiar, comforting X-shape of the craft.

"Ready proton torpedoes. If the Imps drop in anything big, let's be on guard." Twenty-four proton torpedoes was nothing to scoff at, able to put sizable holes in even Star Destroyers if you hit them right and really ruin the day of smaller craft.

"Endeavor, this is Glaive Squadron. We're moving into our patrol. We'll keep you covered."

 

[Redryhno]

Setnax had been geared up from the moment they'd hid in this nebula, ready and expecting the Empire to find and strike at any moment. They didn't take kindly to people taking their products after all. He'd learned that after a run for some shipments he'd signed himself up for.

"Lieutenant Setesna, reporting in,"The Besalisk said over the comm,"I'm at the hangar, let's hope these mercs are here for tea and crumpets, not a shoot-out, am I right?"

He chuckled at his little joke while hoisting his blasters, ready for anything that came out of those ships that came flying into the hangar.

 

[Not G. Ivingname]

Snip

Wolk'a soldered several new wiring from a blown out circuit board, before placing the panel back in it's place, doing just another section of the busted wiring for the port engine stabilizer. At least they still HAD that engine. So much of the sub-light systems were GONE, many areas being sealed from space by a combination of emergency vacuum doors and large slabs of metal that had to be welded to the spaceship. Yet "he" and his engineers and repair teams were expected to fix the gaping holes in the ship? Spare wires/copulars, welding tools and hammers can only fix so much.

At least Wolk'a cold restore some control of the port engine back to the bridge. He clicked a comm.

"Port engine control restored," Wolk'a said in the blank radio voice, "Current safe output is only 43% of maximum, work on stabilizers is ongoing. Wolk'a out."

What Wolk'a didn't need was the captain yelling at "him" and the overworked crews.

"No, no, no!" Wolk'a said to a human workman, "The power copular goes between this control nodes, the fan goes onto that motherboard."

Wolk'a was handed another datapad on the progress with bringing back the Hyperdrive. The main hypderive engine had much of it's titanium-chromium casing blown off. Without it, the hyperdrive cannot take the strain of moving between real and hyper space, and would likely break apart if they tried and kill the crew with high levels of gamma radiation.

Even if they did, the Null Quantum Field Generator was reduced to a melted smoldering pile, so if they even could make a hyperspace jump, they run the extreme risk of exiting Hyperspace early, which could easily land the ship next to a blackhole, supernova, Empire controlled planet, or just the empty space between solar systems.

Spoiler: OOC

How much control do I have over the condition of the engine rooms or how well I can fix things? I made up a plausible scenarios to what things are broken down since I was given little to work with. I hope I didn't make the situation worse than the GM imagined, in which case I will change it.

 

[CJ1145]

"...And that was the second time I shot down Vader's TIE Fighter."

"You're full of crap, Commander!"

Prax Ontil leaned forward in his chair, giving a hearty laugh before raising his glass in the air. "Truer words have never been spoken! I'll drink to that one!" He threw his head back, chugging down a shot of alcohol and earning a few whoops and hollers from his squadron. Wayward wasn't the most orthodox unit in the New Republic, but rapport was rapport. The lot of them were gathered in their quarters, trading tall tales and jokes for credits and whatever liquors they could scrounge up. They all had a few good ones, but the life of the party was their CO squatting down and chatting like one of the grunts. The Nautolan was just about to launch into his favorite yarn, his duel to the death with the Ranclones of Dathomir, when his comlink starting buzzing with chatter. He held up a hand and silenced his men without a word. Colonel Crakemoor, his direct superior, was relaying orders from the top. He grunted in enthusiasm, giving back an okay to the Colonel.

"All clear, ma'am, we're up and at 'em."

He clapped his hands and began waving a gesture around to stir his troops. "Let's hustle, boys, hustle, we're on vigil! I want those E-Wings in the sky before I have time to take another shot!"

"Blast, man, we don't have hyperdrives in our boots!"

Wayward Squadron, half in uniform and half changing into uniform as they ran came rushing down the halls and into the hangar bay. Techs and engineers were already on hand, directing the men and women under Prax's command to their snubfighters. The E-Wings were some of the most pristine fighters on-board the Endeavor, if only for their relatively recent introduction. Top of the line R7 astromechs were being loaded into the fighters, perfectly programmed to deal with the subroutines of the new ships.

The only exception was Commander Ontil's own fighter. An R2 mech sat in the port and whistled at him as he climbed into the cockpit. Prax flashed a winning smile at his old buddy. "You warm her up for me, Tobee?"

The little droid beeped in confirmation and unlocked the last few routine checks for takeoff. Endeavor was giving him the go-ahead to commence the launch. "Everyone check in. Check, check, this is Wayward One standing by. You kids all copy?"

The rest of the squadron checked in, and a few moments later Prax led the way out of the hangar bay. His E-Wings formed up as they filed out of the larger vessel, drifting into formation. Prax watched the incoming corvettes--Mercs, if he recalled the briefing--while scanning the perimeter for any signs of Imperial activity. "Thing about hiding in space, is that you can be as blind as the enemy. Keep me posted, Tobee?"

The droid clicked and answered with an affirmative. Prax chuckled and opted to check in with the CO. "This is Wayward One, squadron in position. Maintaining patrol route, will sound the alarm at first sign of activity."

 

[Soviet Heavy]

Snip

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Snip

Two of the Corvettes were safely aboard the Endeavor. So far, Telani had allowed a Mandalorian and a smuggler onto her ship. The people she had to work with. That, and she was certain her pilots were half drunk and half asleep. She should never have given them the R&R if this was how they were going to use it. They needed to stay sharp, this was still enemy territory.

"Have Captains Mendon and Ru brought to the conference room. I'll meet them there." she said, heading for the turbolift. A Mandalorian and a Smuggler. With her luck, the next man would be a paranoid recluse. Reah straightened her lapels on her uniform, intent on showing this riffraff what proper military discipline looked like. It was more to placate herself than to convince them, but she had learned that intimidation in the right situation was a highly effective means of control. With scum like this on board, she would need all the control she could get.

The two men were waiting for her, seated at the conference table. The Mandalorian was in full gear, garishly painted black and red with Gold trim. At least the smuggler had taken some effort to put on a good suit. Reah seated herself at the table, keeping her expression blank even as she tried to hold her disdain for the two in check. "Welcome to the Endeavor, I'm Captain Telani. I appreciate your response to our distress signal. We're short on time, so I need to know, were either of you followed here? It is imperative that you tell me everything you can about how you received our signal. It was a risk on my part, but a necessary one. Give me an answer. Were either of you followed?"

[hr]

Snip

Snip

The two squadrons fanned out of the Endeavor's hangar bay, holding tight until they cleared the nebula. At the Colonel's orders, they broke off into their patrol groups, three fighters to a unit. Glaive Two pulled his X-Wing into formation just behind the Squadron leader. Devin was on sensor duty, sweeping the system for probes that might tip them off.

"So, Colonel "Crackmoore" now? Why the name change Mira?" joked Devin. He was well aware of the animosity between his CO and the Captain. They often butted heads when it came to tactics, and Telani's small jabs always seemed to rub Mira the wrong way. They just had to operate to the best of their abilities underneath the judgement of the Ship's boss.

The sensor sweep continued. Wayward Squadron had finished clearing sector six, and they were moving onto the next checkpoint. The third Corvette was still on approach, and several ships had formed an escort to bring the vessel into docking range. "Well, Colonel?"

 

[EmperorZuma]

"Captain? Captain? Sir, apologies for disturbing you, but we have arrived at the source of the distress signal." Tac was in the co-pilot's seat and prodded Gareth with a blunt finger. "They have already requested for us to land, and given us coordinates. Shall we dock?"

Gareth rubbed his eyes for a moment and let them adjust to the lightening of the cockpit. "Ugh, that's what I get for fiddling with the engines until the wee hours of the morning." He muttered to himself before remembering where he was. "Oh, yeah, let's get in to dock, set in the coordinates."

From behind the pair, at a secondary station, sat Ted, plugged in the the ship's computer. "Risk assessment: High, recommend withdrawal. Dispatched fighter squadrons are insufficient against a threat that so heavily damaged a Nebula-class vessel."

"We haven't even seen the ship itself, how do you know it's so-?" Gareth stopped as the Lone Wanderer made it's way into the nebula pocket, finally able to see the scarred Endeavor. "Nevermind. Did any other ships respond to the distress call?"

Ted nodded, pulling up images of a ship on the monitors. "A CR90 corvette detected dropping out of hyperspace several minutes ago. Processing collected data to produce an identification. Odd anomalies within nebula hint at another ship, but more data is required for 100% result."

Gareth nodded as he flipped on the ship's communicator, now in range of a crystal clear signal. "Tac, give them what they want, I'll park the ship."

The droid nodded as he starting his greeting protocols. "This is the Lone Wanderer responding to Endeavor's distress call, we are ready to supply assistance when needed." A low mumbling responded the droid for a moment or two before the line dropped dead. Tac was taken aback by the assumed slight, but relayed the information nevertheless. "We are cleared to dock, your presence is also requested in the conference room."

Gareth rolled his eyes as he pulled the ship in, swiveling it around so it could be ready to leave at a moment's notice. "Great, a meeting with the captain, probably going to dress me down for being so late too."

Ted rose from his seat after the ship made contact with the hanger floor. "Recommend security detail, I5 is adequate support."

Gareth shook his head as he threw his jacket over his shoulders. "No, don't want someone so incredibly armed to the teeth to back me up. We can trust the Republic not to fire us out an airlock...to a point. I think you should come with me, give you a chance to see how bad it is on the inside."

Ted paused for a moment as his thought on the idea, snapping back to attention when he had found an answer. "Acceptable, will adjust force multipliers on an active basis." With an affirmative nod, Gareth and Ted left the ship and quickly headed to the conference room.

snip

The doors slid open, and even with Gareth expecting company, he was surprised at the turnout. A Mandalorian in full armor and a man in a suit, who Gareth couldn't help but have a lingering glance on, were sitting nearby. In front, a fully uniformed Republic officer, looking quite displeased. "Sorry for being late." Gareth gave a short bow of apology before taking a seat a bit further away from the others, Ted taking a place by standing behind him. "I had a few things to take care of before coming on board."

 

[drmigit2]

snip

Quint kicked back in his chair and said calmly "That would be impossible. My ship might not be great for combat, but it has one of the best cloaking generators in history. Most radars aren't even able to see it until it's right in their face. By then..." He laughed a bit and went forward in his chair again.

The lieutenant was trying not to shoot him on sight. He appreciated her lack of guards and all the other fancy gadgets people liked to point at him. Honestly, just because he had killed a lot of people didn't make him a bad person. In fact, he has made sure to only kill the worst scum in the galaxy. Some people give bounty hunters a bad name.

"Let's just say you hired the right guy. Now, I need to discuss payment. How's 300 per head sound? And once we're in private, I have another proposition for you. I think it will match up to your mission in the end."

 

[FalloutJack]

Snip

Snap

The walk to the conference room had been largely uneventful. These guards were not paid for conversation, and even if they had been so inclined...nobody was in the mood anyhow. Like it or not, this vessel was a badly-wounded animal and would probably need a couple of solid weeks to be put back into service. (This was his basic estimate from observing the hull, energy emmissions from the on-board ship scans, and of course the distress in the first place. It would need parts it obviously didn't have, expertise it might be stretching thin already, and probably a dock just to re-armor.) So, the guards let him off at the conference room and he had taken a seat not too far from a Mandalorian. Masan-Ru could never quite understand what their deal was. A warrior group, many times bounty hunters, but ultimately he didn't understand their culture...

Not long after having taken a seat did the lady captain arrive. She was clearly not in the mood...for anything, and that was either her game face or her real face. Hopefully, the former, otherwise he wasn't going to enjoy this at all. At least, she seeed like a strong personality, not a wishy-washy or necessarily a strict stake-up-the-ass military pain in the ass...yet. He decided to let her field that one for her by speaking first...which she did. Pragmatically, she wished to know if either he or the other captain were followed. Resting his arms, one over the other in a posture of attention-yet-relaxation, Masan-Ru delivered his account of things.

"I have not been followed, as I have not actually seen a ship these past three days. It is a matter of fact that I will be expected elsewhere for the cargo I was being discreet about, but they're just going to have to deal. More specifically, your transmission came during a scheduled random-walk while I was getting a physical..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That really stings you know, Doc."

Holiday: I do? I have no record of human pain tolerances. Adjusting levels now.

The large pirate sighed. How it was that Marcus managed to put together a competent medi-driod while possessing a faulty memory chip, he would never know. Holiday was one of those sterile-looking gunmetal-gray models with - oddly enough - enough of a personality for a bedside manner, but a repeated issue remembering certain important things...like how sensitive one's nervous system might be. Nevermind, it was just about over. Then, he could eat and catch a vid in his quarters or something.

Holiday: Your system appears to be normal, sir. Be well.

"Very good, Doc. Anything you wish to report otherwise?"

Holiday: Negative, but I do have one question, sir.

"Yes?"

Holiday: Who are you?

Masan-Ru rolled his eyes and walked off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"...and it was actually our Republic liason who caught on."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bridge, largely a quiet place when nothing's happening, was currently filled with droids looking after systems, plus tao humans: Niko Renzo and Marcus Trevor. Niko went over to the scientist's station when he heard the man declare "That's interesting..." while staring at something on his viewer.

Niko: A transmission...

Marcus: Yes, I know what it is. The odd thing of it is that I'm not familiar with the notation of it.

Niko: I am. Move over, bacon.

A quick decoding, as per training, allowed Niko to decipher that it was a distress call from a Republic ship called Endeavor, giving basic coordinates and then repeating. He called the captain to the bridge of course, which irritated him as the man was trying to get a bite to eat.

Marcus: Bailing out some Rebel vessel that got itself shot to pieces. Marvelous...

Niko: Ahem...

Marcus: Err, I mean, what could our allies have done to warrant such a risk as this transmission?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And that's about the size of it. I was urged to answer the call and here we are, talking about it."

Snup

It was about then that a newcomer appear in the room, or rather late-comer. The captain of the third Corvette, no doubt. He apologized and explained that he had been otherwise detained by a busy schedule or somesuch like that. He had that 'galactic adventurer' look to him. Well, points for style, at least. He had elected to bring someone with him, as opposed to his own leaving Niko behind. There were reasons for that, but let's not get into things that were unimportant right now. He had questions, first of all, ones that were a bit more pertainent than the Mandalorian's...

"Since we don't have much time, would you tell us just how bad off the Endeavor IS, Captain? Offhand, I would say 'pretty far gone'."