A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

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Praeothmin
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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by Praeothmin » Thu Nov 22, 2012 2:24 pm

Ah, Secret Service types are always too confident, and they always pay for it with their lives... :)

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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by sonofccn » Tue Nov 27, 2012 4:01 am

Sorry to say I've had a bad case of the lazy. So the actual plot's fairly light, through I think fun, with the rest made up, as is my way, with an extended in universe excerpt. This time Bureau casefile regarding an alien incursion on a Colonial world.

“…survived relatively intact thanks to outer carapace composed of silica, hydroxyapatite and a currently unidentified heavy metallic which insulated, however imperfectly, the intense heat generated by the cause of death. Of immediate interest of the internal anatomy is the pair of large, five point nine inches long to five point one inches wide, leathery growths discovered within a “protective membrane sac” composed of similar trace elements as the outer chitin. Dissection of one, irrevocably damaged by thermal effects, is suggestive towards a fertilized embryo which speculatively implies, seeing as no other congruent specimen was observed, a literal two replacing the one slain under normal parameters. A remarkable resiliency…an ethos of survival so strong that even now my thoughts wonder to the remaining “egg” and its viability…” Excerpt from Doctor Herbert’s notes concerning the Goblin “Queen-Mother” recovered from the Orcus incident.

Talon-II, Remedial room-

Pain, long, flowing and all but overbearing filled Gambil’s senses, sharpening them as the task of injury is wont to do and allowed him to more fully appreciate the cold, suffocating water which followed. A freezing deluge which filled his sinuses searing his lungs with its icy touch in a horrendous imitation of the harsh brim-smoke of the lowest tiers of the mech-world of his birth, a befouled cesspool requiring rebreathers merely to draw breath. Hardly the fond memories which consoled or alleviated the ISB agent as he sprouted his torso up off the floor juggling focus between vomiting up mouthfuls of biting fluid ,the aching half of his abused skull and his immediate surroundings.

“He’s awake.” A hazy blur spoke beside him but with the unmistakable sycophantic zeal of the Comp Force, like a pet begging to its master.

“Get away from me you cretin.” Gambil cursed spitefully as he struck out against the indistinct blob, feeling the rough edge of a bucket in its grasp, freeing the space for him to finish rising.” I’ll have your hide stapled to the hull.”

Melodramatic but expected by the addled brain rejects drafted into the Assault forces of COMPNOR, raised usually by holo-vids and little else, and typically the most succinctly manner to hammer a point of threat into their thick skull-mush. This time through instead of meek acquiescence from a toadying stool he was buffeted by a sharply withered voice abjectly draped in arrogant defiance.

“ I would hope, if only out of professional solidarity, that it would be quite apparent you are not in a position to make threats.” A hunched, leathery man intoned from his seat at one of the display tables, his craggy face down turned to the gold coin he gently rolled back and forth

“ And what does your solidarity say about drowning someone on sump water?” Gambil growled turning to keep both the old man and his lackey in his sight as well shield his other hand from view as it reached for his holdout blaster.

His fingers finding the artificial Shaak leather of its holster but artifice of its stock as it closed around it, his eyes narrowing towards the alleged follow operative who proffered the weapon in center of his palm like a magician pulling a gem out from the ether. The old man, putting his coin away with a well practiced gesture, as well gracing Gambil with his visage showing just how haggard the being was. At least what little of his face that could be discerned between the high collar of his black coat and the wide brim of his hate, a stern countenance battered by every inch of years and perhaps more.

“You’ll also find your vibroblade strapped to your leg is missing. If you were planning on reaching for that next.” The man in black smiled without smiling.” I find dressing downs far more effective when only one party is armed.”

“ I wouldn’t have been adverse to the concept.” The younger agent said with a forced smile as he knelt and ran his hand above his ankle to the empty sheath posed above.” But moving on, since it appears I’m a captive audience, I have to ask who the feth I’m conversing with.”

Sparing a backwards glance as he did so, unbending his knee and standing, to his own rather dubious henchmen. Finding both of them sprawled on the floor. One whose’s face had been pulverized inward to the point of unrecognition and the other, Tun, whose face was a bloody mess and only the slight pulsations of his chest betrayed he still clung to life. Neither of any help to Gambil as he turned his attention back to the weathered agent seated before him.

“I’ve been called many names in my years. Most not overly endearing. Suffice it to say I am a purpose, a will slaved to action, and in this exact time and this exact place said purpose is to clean up after an incompetent.” The man in black spat with that smile that was not a smile at the thinly veiled furor it elicited from the younger man.

“You dare a lot old man. Perhaps too much.” Gambil warned, emotion boiling over in a froth, pointedly to an indifferent listener.

“If I dare it is because I have accomplished what few others have. And if you have any inkling of who I am, and I dare say even a lout like you can not be so oblivious, you must know its useless to threaten one who has drowned entire worlds in blood or be wholly ignorant of the Lord I serve.” The old man rumbled drawing the coin again and letting it play through his fingers as he let his words sink in through the agent’s mind.

“You’re a myth. A dark fable.” The young man dismissed angrily.” No single man could be responsible for all of your atrocities.”

The swaggering confidence of youth in his voice as he did so, certain that a singular being could not both be responsible for ending the civil war of Victoria-Mortis by induction of a blight inside the world’s few surviving hydroponics domes as well as instigating by deceit and fraud a coalition of fringe worlds against the Beast of Acheron but few days later. The worlds separated not only by untold hundreds of lightyears but such machinations and intrigue requiring a full team’s focus and attention.

“And perhaps there is more than a shade of truth to that but the fact remains I stand before you. The power I have to end your miserable life at my merest inclination is quite real I assure and by extension my claim.” The Man in Black reasoned with a cold cut and perverse logic.” The only question which is of value of answering is why I should refrain from exercising my privilege on one so woefully inept.”

“Is that the slums the legendary Bloody Jack has descended? Enfeebled schoolmaster? Exacting disciplinarian?” Gambil growled yielding not in the slightest.

“Nothing of the sort. My Lord has become aware of certain…sensitive information being dissimulated through uncertain channels to the system’s Natives. Perhaps Rebel agents finding new employ or…something else. I trust you are aware what was found in the asteroid base, how this region of space posses organisms which can control nay puppet the human body. So you can understand my interest in the culprit you tagged messing with historical files. The culprit you allowed to escape.”

“I didn’t allow it. I had a gun square on Rynth the entire time…that is while I do not understand the full ramifications the culprit managed to overpower me and my associates. A rather difficult task. Perhaps if you had come to me with these…fears of alien infestation I might have known to come with a heavier party.” The young man ventured.

“Perhaps but it didn’t suit my purposes. Nor is it an excuse for sloppy behavior. You positioned no one to watch the outer hall, no contingency if something erred.” The Man in Black chastised as he raised and pointed the younger man’s blaster at him.” And if I hadn’t countermanded it your “back-up” wouldn’t even start until eight minutes had passed. One might almost hazard, what with you surviving with barely a scratch, that you wanted the culprit to escape.”

“Nonsense. I’m loyal. To the New Order. To the blessed Emperor.” Gambil gasped, face turning shades paler and festering with beads of sweat.” This is utterly preposterous and wasteful. Rynth is even now spiriting away while you waste your time haranguing me.”

Odorous hope in his words as he said that, praying that the insufferable old man couldn’t conjure the errant stormtrooper with the same ease he’d manifested that hold out blaster. But instead luck clung to him with the Man in Black nodding his head in a controlled, smug manner.

“It is your ship, you may have contacts which will be of use for me in the hunt.” He said with the unsmiling smile as he turned around and offered the blaster back.” You can start by having this place cleaned. Your man is stable and under the auspices of a medical professional may even regain consciousness and be questioned. The other needs to be erased along with any evidence you were ever here.”

Handing over the weapon the Man in Black rose and begin walking towards the door, followed by his CompForce warrior, as Gambil clutched and twisted at his newly rejoined weapon checking its side panel.

”Depowered? Its cell is drained.” He groaned lowering the weapon and raising accusing eyes towards the departing shadow of the old man.

“Of course. In case you decided to absolve our partnership prematurely.” The Man in Black replied with a hollow laugh, turning to brandish the new and charged blaster he wielded.” Always have a contingency. Now then quit dawdling, we have work to do.”

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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by sonofccn » Tue Nov 27, 2012 4:03 am

“Dead.” OSS {Office of Strategic Services} Agent Smith’s initial answer when asked to describe the Goblin “Queen-Mother”

Interlude-

“…specimen is nearly intact save for cranial damage inflicted by a close rang forty-five caliber sub munition administered by recording physician during altercation noted in appendix 2-C. Subject’s height measures four foot nine inches, which appears roughly typical of observed specimens, weighing in on seventy-nine pounds and eight ounces. Skin’s outer layer is a moldy gray textually crinkled, not unlike a rhinoceros’s hide, but cellular-composition is nearly identical with human dermis. Which assuming the reproductive method described in Agent’s Smith’s report, see appendix 2-A, is a logical outcome. The skin, despite being creased, is quite taunt over the specimen’s frame in keeping with its lean, “hungry” demeanor which in contrast to its actual weight suggests a half starved or atrophied condition. Leading to my speculation the difference of body mass is in part made up by a denser muscular system than is present in the human body, perhaps a partial regressed state to our simian ancestors? Personal testimony can corroborate the species as a whole is beguilingly strong limbed.

The only part of the body which appears in contrast to this “sickly” appearance would be the specimen’s legs, appearing more stunted relative to a human being and more rotund which is suggestive they are capable of short, powerful bursts rather than running. Again another observation at least partially observed first hand by recording physician. Through no accurate measurement was possible due to the circumstances of the altercation, again see appendix 2-C, I would estimate somewhere between twenty and thirty feet per second if properly motivated.

Subject’s eyes are, on appearance, oily black with inspection revealing virtually no iris and an extremely engorged pupils suggesting extreme photosensitivity and the magnification of minute quantities of visible light. From personal experience I can add that those creatures observed in broad daylight were observed to don vestments and hoods over their faces as well as a sudden unexpected flash, such as from a five inch high explosive shell, was enough to frighten or startle several of the species into a retreat. Through there were other equally practical reasons to endow that reaction into the observed specimen, the aforementioned theory should be consider wholly speculation pending my dissection of the ocular organs and possible light it will shed.

Jaws are gaunt, malnourished looking with exaggerated incisors comparable in size to adult human canines despite the smaller mouth structure giving the specimen a strong apish appearance. Tongue is mottled, bloated and diseased looking through there is no otherwise outward sign of infection in the subject. Swabs have been taken from the organ to be cultivated and I expect to find a symbiotic “bacterium soup” to serve as steward against any pathogens picked up from its proclivity towards raw or undercooked meals as well as possible weapon if administered via a bite. This suspicion I base upon testimony and inspection of recovered survivors, see appendix 3-A, which corresponds to distinct discoloration and acute sickness from those which were, by one manner or another, exposed to the UBOs’ saliva. The composition may possibly even have a part in external digestion, softening tissues before consumption through this was not observed.

In keeping with their partial heritage both the hands and feet are five limbed through the fifth and final digit on each appendage is vestige, primarily flabs of desiccated skin around a stubby bone spur completely useless. It should be noted this is not an occidental mutation, all observed specimens possessed this trait. Manipulation and dexterity is invested completely in the first four digits. Fingers are mechanically most like our own through comparatively more stunted and ending in sallowed colored nail or claw composed of keratin and a heavy metallic identical to what was discovered in the “Queen-Mother’s” carapace, see appendix 1-B, of exceptional strength and hardness. Toes are more shriveled in appearance, more reduced with far more of their length devoted to the “claw-growth”. Composition and colorization identical.

Final physical observation before we began dissection the specimen, like all others observed, appears to be a drone. Incapable on its own of either initiating or conduction propagation of it species. This coupled with observations of Agent Smith, refer again to appendix 2-A, and Doctor Herbert’s findings, appendix 1-B, speaks of a hive or swarm style organization. The specimen being most analogous to a laborer/warrior caste with the “Queen-Mother” assuming the role progenitor. Unknown at this time what if any “males” of the species would exist as or what other archetypes which might exist in a “swarm” allowed to develop for a more extended period.”
Extended excerpt of Doctor Neville Taylor audio log concerning dissection of Goblin specimen recovered from Orcus.

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Praeothmin
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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by Praeothmin » Tue Nov 27, 2012 8:53 pm

Oooooh, so "Rynth" isn't getting away so easily...

That will be intesresting...


And another type of bug from Orcus (wherever that is)?

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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by Khas » Tue Nov 27, 2012 11:28 pm

Actually, Orcus is a planetoid in our own solar system IRL.

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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by sonofccn » Wed Nov 28, 2012 2:42 am

Praeothmin wrote:And another type of bug from Orcus (wherever that is)?
Khas wrote:Actually, Orcus is a planetoid in our own solar system IRL
Whoops. Guess it shows I'm not an astronomer. But yeah Orcus is supposed to be in universe a human colony world. Really I just thought the name of a Roman god of the underworld was cool plus the whole Orc/goblin thing.

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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by Khas » Wed Nov 28, 2012 4:36 am

No need to worry. Here's a hint though, here are the names of the Dwarf Planets in our Solar System:
Ceres
Pluto
Haumea
Makemake
Eris

And Dwarf Planet Candidates:
Orcus
Quaoar
Varuna
2007 OR10
Sedna

Ceres is the only one in the Inner Solar System. The rest orbit out beyond Neptune.

Although, most maps of the Solar System just show the planets and dwarf planets. Dwarf planet candidates aren't shown, for some reason.

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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by sonofccn » Mon Dec 10, 2012 7:29 pm

An actual update this week with the wheels of plot continuing their agonizing slow quarter-turn.

“No, I don’t need you to tell me what it says. There’s been a disturbance somewhere by some radioactive mutant or alien horror and they need us to sort it out. It’s always something like that. When it’s an invasion of well endowed blondes the General Staff handle the matter personally but when its an alien cult or overgrown arthropods they draw my name out of the hat.” Major Kness, to his aid Sinclair, before being dispatched to handle a renewed Satyr outbreak.

Talon-II, remedial room-

“Maggot rotting fether!” Gambil cursed hoarsely driving his boot toe into the unresponsive Tun’s side with a dull, mushy smack.” Treating me like some fething youngling, fething handed me my jorblocks and what were you doing? Huh? What were you doing while my life was being weighed by the fething Arsonist of Sigma?”

Tun’s, his mouth a bloody mess swollen shut, refusal to answer his master’s query earning him another kick before the operative stepped over him continuing his triad, pacing back and forth deck plate already well stained with the crimson impressions of his boot heels. The ruby traces stretching between the to sullen beings laid out on the floor and around the room as the volcanic Gambil fumed in wait.

“I’ll tell you where. Lying on your back because you incompetently allowed a suspect to escape. Feth I’d feed your entrails to a Rancor if…HE…wouldn’t toss me in right after for it. You like that don’t you? Me sweating?” He thundered obliviously to the walls, and what ever listening devices therein, as he circled around the desolate room.” Well I tell you one thing. He ain’t going to be around much longer. Fething no man humiliates me like that and lives. And Tun…you’ll be following him out the airlock five seconds later.”

Which was slightly dependent on if his remaining agent survived long enough for any of it to matter. While his interest in anatomy and physiology had been focused and selective around the infliction of pain even such limitations couldn’t blind Gambil to the perils Tun faced. Which didn’t mean he cared in the slightest but intellectually, with the same mercantile scale he balanced all his decisions on, he understood his enforcer was facing sever skull fractures, and resulting hemorrhages all through the soft meat of the brain as well as retina loss and, due to his lying on his back, asphyxiation on his own bile laced blood. Which suited the operative fine, he had no use for those who failed, through out of deference to the charade of interrogation he was being forced through he reneged from “hurrying” the process along as they waited.

Not for a crash Med-Team whom normally would be called for such an emergency, too many questions and data trails to clean up afterwards. No this event, especially its conclusion, had to have never happened. To never have existed and for that Gambil had cultivated his own special medical team for situations like this. Disposing of certain unwanted bodies, mending others or perhaps altering the cause of death on official ScanDocs. A physician whom he could count on his loyalty due to his enlisting into the Imperial Medical-Corps under a false identify and the outstanding warrant of arrest for his previous life he escaped by doing so.

“If he would fething hurry. I can’t baby sit your smelly arse all day Tun. HE wants my help in finding “Rynth” and by the Emperor he’s going to get it.” The agent continued, his mind brooding in a red veil.” Right before I slit that withered throat I want him to realize…realize who’s the better man is.”

His scarlet thoughts particularly churning at the sight of the Man in Black fallen and hobbled at his feet, clutching a seeping neck wound from which poured inevitably his vigor and strength while he pleaded for mercy. Mercy Gambil intended to hear out, every exacting last moment of it, if not act on. On that day, that hour, which he knew could not be far off he be pleased. A personal triumph, to kill the man who walked in shadows, which would never be emulated or exceeded. Granted it would have to be a secrete victory, having a fair appraisal of whom the old man served and the fate of those who crossed such a being.

“Have to be some kind of story…killed by “Rynth” before I could intervene?” He floated smiling like the jackal.” Tragic but…he is getting old and this is a young man’s game.”

“That sounds like a most wise and brilliant stratagem O’ peerless Master.” An gratingly electronic voice interrupted Gambil from behind before he could venture farther along such thoughts.” May it be that I, your humble servant, but play some role in your glorious escapades.”

Revealed, as Gambil spun around drawing a blaster free from its holster, as the first of a pair of onyx black droids waddling into the room. Forming up shoulder to shoulder in front of him the talkative one gently bowed his metallic head and continued in that harsh crackling voice which sounded like a half strangled Nexu.

“QT-HPO, your undeserving servant, my most glorious Master and my counterpart TQ-HPO. Master Bechham dispatched us to serve in what capacity you so desire.” The machine mewled, without hide nor hint of even an electronic version of dignity, gesturing to himself and the identical looking unit beside him.

“He say anything else?” The agent queried, his weapon not wavering from between the talking droid’s yellow eyes.

“Oh yes, of course. A thousand pardons my most gracious Master for my faulty and slow circuits. Curse my Maker for building such an imperfect and flawed vassal to serve you O’Master.” The robot prattled sorely tempting Gambil to pull the trigger but at the last the apologetic wretch finally got to the point of dissertation.” Master Bechham said, such as one of my lowly intelligence and ability recalls, that the Rook is in alignment and the Emperor beckons through I don’t quite gather the meaning of the message. Inferior and useless that I am.”

“It means you get to live. For now.” Gambil answered relaxing and starting to put the weapon away when a new thought blossomed and his actions slowed, his eyes narrowing upon the black platted machine trying to perceive what circulated through its processing unit.” That is if you haven’t heard any information which I, in the interest of the Empire, have deemed is crucial the public remain ignorant of. Because then I might have to…confirm deletion in the interest of security.”

“Have no fear O’Master. I, the most unworthy cretin, would never dare trifle with one as powerful or noble as yourself. Any words which I or my counterpart may have heard can be taken in the most restrictive of confidence’s sire or may the Maker melt me down and shape some far more laudable creation.” The droid quickly acquiesced, the proverbial fear rushing down its leg, to the appreciative operative.

“Good. There are two bodies. Dispose of the one not breathing then take the other to Master Bechham. Then I want this room scrubbed spotless. Not so much as a microbe you understand?” Gambil ordered stepping between the two meekly nodding machines.” I have business to attend to at the Emperor’s Providence Cantina. When you are finished I’ll still have need of…QT. Please find me there but be discrete.”

“Absolutely sire. You honor this most unworthy specimen of durasteel and wire with your gracious request O’Master. I will endeavor to prove myself worthy to it.” Gambil heard the droid prattle in the background as he stormed away to the paltry rat’s nest he’d arranged a meeting at.

Judgment, Auxiliary lab-

I. Breaking Benjamin-So Cold

With contemptuous ease despite the trauma of its wounds the jade scaled serpent-Xeno rose and coiled about the refrigerated slab, Krevin’s body tensing as he felt its hungry eyes pass over him, and lunge after the bulky machine pistol/small cannon posed just out of reach. Its clawed hand, lacerated with deep creased flecked with dried blood, clasping around the well worn stock and hefting the weapon upwards towards the Commodore whom recoiled despite himself at the seeming voluminous sound of the gun’s firing piston striking an empty chamber.

“End demonstration.” J05-PH clicked hobbling out from behind the reptilian alien as it swung and repeated the futile gesture at SubCommander Tyler.

On his command, purposefully done verbally rather than the more efficient high frequency “burst”, the body went wholly limp and fluid. The gun dropping noisily to the floor from drooping fingers once like durasteel while in flawless emulation the body slumped back upon the refrigerated dais lifeless and inert but for the neatly trimmed excavation over the cap of its dense cranium. There, segmented legs curling over the edge, the tiny cyclopean droid scuttled free and onto the table. Its cilia of nerve-wiring retracting within its rotund body it distanced itself a shallow distance from the ice cold corpse and cycled around to face its singular red lens-eye towards the mortal humans. Like a trained pet expectantly waiting to be praised, a hope it would be left holding as Krevin stepped forward towards its creator and only then removed his hand from his holstered blaster.

“That was certainly impressive through I fail to see the application.” The Commodore lectured the medical droid turning his gaze to the riddled corpse.” We do not need better ways to bring such creatures to life. In fact I’m pretty sure we want the exact opposite result.”

“But that is the Cranial-Unit sire and more. I’ve already devised plans for including a small blaster, possibly a probe droid variant, as well as a miniaturized surgical mandibles allowing self-directed field insertions.” J05-PH protested swinging a steely arm towards his creation which, obediently, swiveled to face them.” Imaging if you will sire depositing hundreds or thousands of such droids into the enemy’s trenches. Each combatant slain risen as a loyal soldier to the Empire.”

“CN-20 gas would kill them faster and is doubtlessly more cost efficient than manufacturing state of the art droid brains as a disposable weapon.” Tyler, approaching the multi-legged robot, said startling the small robot and causing it to turn back towards him.” As the Confederacy learned to their misfortune. Thinking machines are too complex, to prone to failure to be utilized on the scale of a Stormtrooper.”

Boiler plate prattle, J05-PH knew of course, which first the Republic than the Empire had sprouted as an undeniable truth during the Clone Wars and its aftermath. Vids of B1 Battledroids, whose mind and programming had been exceptionally simplistic to reduce costs to the fullest, had been paraded across the Holonet for obese, gluttonious organics to laugh and jeer at while being serviced by their obliging, mechanical betters. So convinced of their innate superiority to notice their abject, and objective, inferiority they’d cultivated colorful but wantonly speculatively “reasons” why. Profoundly slobbering over ethereal qualities as “gut instinct” and non-indicative reasoning compared to a droid’s more scientifically deduced decisions.

“Historically the desired complexity was prohibitively resource intensive.” The droid answered swallowing the electronic analogue to his pride.” But this unit circumvents that concern. Being limited on the outset in its avenues of interaction, higher processing ability or emotional coding could be sacrificed for a more “lean” and efficient electronic brain.”

“ Which makes your…Scuttlers more prone to difficulties and battlefield imbecility not less.” Krevin stated plainly watching the little machine recoil away from Tyler who nudged the droid.

A product of the generation whom had grown up in the shadows of the Clone Wars, saturated with daily stories from the Holo Net of droid general Grievous and his horde of Automata scouring worlds on the pyre of War and slaughter, the Commodore didn’t bother to hide the aura of disdain he held for mechanized warriors. Through far from some weirdo droid hater the thought of entrusting his life to their steely claws raised a palatable wrongness, a prickling disquiet where his well honed sense of preservation and concern would have verdant field to grow with abandon. For who could truly say was passed within the digital mind of droids, between their raw conscious and what indoctrinated engrams compelled their vocalizer to say.

“ I had hoped when you requested this audience it was to unveil progress on your more ground breaking and practical solution to the inherent problem.” Krevin added.” The solution, you promised, was near at hand when I graciously decided to support your experiments over Jackson’s bellicose wishes.”

“The failure does not lie with my ingenuity but rather the test subjects I must contend with.” J05-PH snapped angrily, his mind buzzing in agitation, directing a claw-hand towards the mercifully opaque bacta tanks.” In every case the subject accepted the implants flawlessly, successfully piloting the remote prosthetics, but following retreated into despondent and suicidal temperament.”

Each of them, whether human or of the serpent Xeno breed, turning the durasteel limbs crafted for them against anything within reach and, ultimately, the vassal in which their electrode riddled brain resided. Those that were denied such outlet regressed into an irreversible catatonic state equally useless.

“Perhaps not my metallic friend but it is your responsibility.” The Commodore answered with a smile as bright as a collapsed star.” To your head, not theirs, does it fall.”

“That was never in question sir…” The droid spat not quite successfully hiding its revulsion of saying it.”…nor have I given up on the project. What I present here is but one alternative for the intermedium.”

“And I’m sure you will never cease to provide us alternate paths to victory.” Came Krevin’s answer, tone or smile not warming by a micron.

The commander possessing a prodigiously growing dataslate on the robotic doctor’s prolific and sundry experiments including remains extracted from a disposal tank which had been shot repeatedly then set on fire. Remains whose gene testing closely matched it to a Wilhelm Khaus, private second class in the Imperial Army, but with incongruent additional strands not native to the human genome. Through certain sequences had been identified from Xenos on archive, more than enough for the Colonials if they were ever made aware of it. Which he’d remind the temperamental droid should it continue to squander his benevolence.

“But we seeing those paths to their completion is-“ He started just as the room’s intercom crackled to life.

Filling the room first with the harsh grating hash of the opening channel than the trebling tones of the youngling assigned to the bridge’s communication board. Still damp from the academy’s forges with those large, patriotism filled eyes which screamed a “ our solemn duty to inform you” ScanDoc in the making the officer practically tripped over his own fawning of the Commodore much less the abject prostrating Tyler reserved from him. The latter, the commander suspected, likely more from his knowledge of what occurred to the last communication officer to displease the SubCommander than Academy indoctrination.

“Commodore I…don’t mean to intrude upon your personage sir but we’re receiving the communication from the Talon-II sir. From Captain Krell George.” The disembodied voice gushed expectantly.” He isn’t stating its urgent sir and normally I’d rather carve off my arm than disturb you sire but he is insistent to speak with you. He will not discuss the matter further but with you.”

“It’s never a trouble, not for one of my officers.” The commander answered with an exuberant smile in his words.” The SubCommander and I will be on the bridge shortly. Our duties here…are accomplished.”

Signaling to his second in command the Commodore than turned towards the door, stepping onto the threshold as the doors parted and turning back towards the mechanical being whose toil could benefit him so greatly or damn him. And he wasn’t doubtful over which outcome the mechaniod would prefer given the choice, that day in the hanger with his other “prize” had fixed that.

“ I want results. My Men of Iron you promised.” He warned icily fixing J05-PH with a withering stare that had no effect on the machine.” One more week my friend, to deliver, or your resource priority will have to be reevaluated. “

“Carry out such threats and you will never see those “Men of Iron” you wish for.” The droid promised, metal claws clenching tightly together.

“Perhaps, and I can live with that, and perhaps you may see your old Colonial friends again. Jackson would approve the equipment transfer most heartily wouldn’t he?” Krevin asked, this time his smile showing genuine if not warm emotion.

“Been as ornery as a Reek since we stole this technological marvel out from under him, I’d wager he wouldn’t hesitate to send a shuttle with a full compliment to escort it back.” Tyler cackled with equal enjoyment as the two left.” They need it you know, one of their crewmembers suffered some cranial trauma that never quite healed and I sure they appreciate our good doctor’s gifts and abilities.

Their laughter cut off by the closing of the doors leaving J05-PH standing there his servos quivering ever so slightly as he glared with venomous hatred towards the now sealed bulkhead. Of the gross and simplistic intelligences cruel fate had saddled him to endure , the enfeebled obstacles which yet tried to drag him down like anchors of neutronium. Keep him from realizing the euphoric destiny he saw a little bit clearer each day, a bold new universe categorically reorganized from the plodding organics’ crude efforts. A bright and shiny future with him as its heart, its brain.

That was what he worked for with every byte of his programming and so, knowing they were watching him with their sensor nodes, he grudgingly went back to work. First through he walked towards the refrigerated slab, extending his clawed hand out towards his invention. His Scuttler as Krevin had called it.

“Come friend. We still have much to do.” He whispered to it as it crawled up his arm onto his upper torso.

The droid securely anchored the medical robot than proceeded past the rows of dissection tables hungrily waiting their turn to be filled and retrieved his personal data pad from the gurney he used as a portable desk. Tapping a metallic finger as he opened the file and scrolled down to the next recipient he’d prepared for his procedure.

“KT-4019…reasonably stable PsycheScan, multiple citations of bravery under fire, perished providing covering fire for teammates…yes I think he might just do. Might withstand it.” The droid whispered.” May even appreciate what I am about to bestow.”

Talon-II, Emperor’s Providence-

II.iron maiden-fear of the dark

Rather than being an approved ship Cantina where, normally, compliant private entrepreneurs catered to off duty Naval men with its spick and span furnishings and digital recordings of number and type of beverages each crewman ordered the Emperor Providence was of the unregulated ilk which festered like necrotic mushrooms in the dark causeways of the ship regulatory officers feared to tread. At Providence the chairs were chipped, the tables cracked and the flickering illuminators unadorned befitting their salvaged nature. Nor would the sole and rickety droid which serviced the pub log your credit number when he brought your splintered mug overfoaming with hard spirits guaranteed to leave you grimacing in the morning.

Of course the Providence also neglected such regulated niceties as concerning itself over the brawls with inevitably took root, preferring above all else the altercations be concluded in a brisk and efficient manner. Either by the participants or by the off duty Army soldier standing hawkish watch by the dingy entrance, stun baton resting within easy reach of one hand and a holdout blaster in a quick release harness for the other, ready to stamp out any trouble. Which added to the thuggish, excitable atmosphere many customers paid for as much as the cheap grog.

The other sort which frequented such establishments sought its grungy darkness, its uninquisitive droid and indifferent populace, as a refuge from the Galaxy. Sitting there alone trying to melt into the stygian veil or in small groups whispering without, undue, fear of their words being heard and reported to a Section Chief. It was these of the latter with Jack Parvus was interested in, his hat and long coat removed he appeared as a simple Naval Rating drowning his sorrows, if only out of habit. Obstinately his focus was towards the pair of men two tables down whom had entered shortly before he had, two whose large set identified them as Stormtroopers even if their jumpsuits were unadorned with sigils. The two nervously talking in tones they thought couldn’t be heard about the cause of their summons, the older of the two casting disperings it was to do with certain indiscretions of the womanly sort, as they mulled over the two foaming tankers the service droid had brought them.

But finding their conversation traveling well trodden paths, and recording it as well for later review, he couldn’t help but let his interest wander from them to a trio of hooded specters at another table indulging in glittergem then to a squadron of TIE pilots along a row of tables pushed together bitterly complaining of their lot in life to finally settle on an Army officer seated in the corner. His head downed tilted so that he stared in the frothy mug he habitually drained then filled, a growing collection of cheap transit lager bottles along the edge of the table. Every so often this mechanical, joyless process would abate and he’d flag the droid down for another bottle or two which the cluttering old junker was only too quick to obey. The Providence rarely getting anyone with an Officer’s wages which perhaps more than his demeanor itself had attracted Jack’s eye.

Or maybe it had been some inkling familiarity in his mask like expression which had intrigued him, whatever the reason after some minutes of terse and unabided arguing with himself the Man in Black made a show of swaying to his feet. Continuing to do so as he picked up his half finished bottle and beerstine and hobbled disjointedly towards the man passing the oblivious two he’d been watching. The tiny speaker in his ear, relaying the audible bug his droid assistant had planted on the pair, keeping him briefed on their engrossed conversation even across the room scraping a chair out from under the officer’s table.

“Hope ya’ kindly don’t mind my intrusion sire but when I saw ya’ sitting there drinking that tawdry trash I said to myself, Jerem my boy that isn’t a fitting drink for a real classy officer sort.” Jack creaked messily slamming down his mug and bottle and sliding into his chair.” I thought to myself, Jerem why don’t you go a introduce that there officer to a real gentlemen like drink. Something that doesn’t taste like it came from the thruster of an old TIE fighter.”

“Who the feth are you again?” The Lieutenant enquired raising glassy eyes up from his leaking tanker to grimace at the leathery Rating sitting across from him.” And why, with all the people, did you come to bother me.”

“Jerem O’Kell, Jerem to my friends, at your service sire.” The Man in Black answered holding his hand out for a few frost bitten seconds before withdrawing it unshaken.” And me thinks a nice taste of the drop shall answer my purpose better than I myself could.”

Without waiting for the officer’s refusal Jack leaned forward refilling both his and his own mug with the contents of his bottle then downed his with embellished need. Sliding his tongue out over his creased lips as he slammed the stine back down pretending to savor every last molecule of the liquid.

“Your insane.” The officer charged before taking his own swig, voice softening ever so slightly when he spoke next.” You can call me Stiles. Just Stiles.”

“Now that’s the boy sire.” Jack enthusiastically gasped reaching to refill his and the Lieutenant’s coffer’s again.” So what be the problem? What can ol’Jerem do for ya’?”

“Do? Nothing. Nothing anyone can do. Nothing anyone can understand. Not unless you were there. There when we stormed that infernal asteroid, that putrid sepulcher of horror.” Stiles grunted draining his glass by a third and spilling perhaps half again as much as he brought it down.

“Aye. I be hearing a bit about that, a most dreadful happenstance it was. Truthfully. But its over and done with ain’t it?” The Man in Black asked pouring what Stile’s had lost back into his mug.” Best to be putting that behind you ain’t it?”

“Behind me? Emperor save me if I could tell you what I saw…if it wasn’t locked under strictest censor oh the nightmares you’d have. Awakening in clammy sweat feeling the fetid, acrid touch of death’s fingers around your neck.” The officer wailed, his mask fracturing letting that which had been pent up seep through.” To stare into the black abyss and realize, truly realize, the darkness is all there is.”

Of course Jack had poured deeply over every scrap which had come out of Last Chance in the days following the assault, studying dissection notes and survivor testimony to better understand the nature of the threat. Until he knew the Xeno breed intimately, far greater than the Lieutenant could ever grasp or wish to, but as for nightmares even the deepest bowel of that blood drenched base could not compare to strolling into a learning crèche which the previous planet rotation had been full and vibrant and now was home only to sickly, sore riddled husks. To stand astride a play-court buried under their stunted, wasted frames and know, with the precision of an assassin drone, not only the painful symptoms they perished from but the order and rate. The work of weeks, so very long weeks, in order to ensure by apparent accident the infection of a youngling of a politician opposed to Imperial policy.

“To be sure the Galaxy’s a dark place my boy but it isn’t wholly that. Not nearly.” The Man in Black said touch more serious.” There is still some beauty to it.”

“Beauty like a Joygirl. Façade of false promises and cheap allures. Nothing more.” Stiles cracked finishing his mug and reaching for the bottle to renew it.

“Everything in its portion my boy. You can believe ol’Jerem on that. There is still beauty true if tarnished.” He answered the younger man.

Thinking of how, after it was too late to save the politician, a dissident radical, an anarchist wholly useless to the Imperial cause, whom evidence would soundly link to unleashing the plague had been discovered. Perished from an apparent suicide a search of his apartment had revealed all conceivable data on the pathogen, enough to contain and combat the infection.

“If you say so. But I can’t. Maybe I never could…my father…he never gave up believing in a better way. Even as he was disappointed in his political allies he never gave up.” The Lieutenant croaked, the threat of a sob beginning to form, leaving the bottle where it rested.” Except me and I forced his hand. Didn’t want me to become an Officer, to join the Empire in its glorious mission of enforcing peace and order throughout the cosmos.”

“We do be needing order it is true but I don’t be thinking this is what you imagined it would be my boy.” Jack said raising a hand to place on Stile’s shoulder.” The question is my boy is do ya’ want to be owned by that darkness or not. Tis all there is to it.”

Instead of answering him the younger officer merely began to cry about his father, of likely legitimate speculation he’d been eliminated for opposing the Empire, and a thousand-thousand miscellaneous bits and fragments he had swirling inside of himself. Jack allowing him to let it out, fears and nightmares, to expunge it before it had chance to take root within him. Before that blank mask became his only true face.

“Its all right my boy. All’s going to be all right. You can listen to Ol’Jerem on that.” He consoled Stiles as, finally, Gambil made his entrance into the Cantina and approached the stormtroopers’ table.

Beginning what he thought of as his interrogation, such was the arrogance of his youth and inexperience, which the Man in Black was all to willing to encourage. At least while the chase was still on.

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Praeothmin
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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by Praeothmin » Thu Dec 13, 2012 6:33 pm

About time you gave us a proper update... ;)

I didn't know Stiles had a soft side...
Probably got it from his mother... :)

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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by sonofccn » Thu Dec 13, 2012 11:14 pm

About time you gave us a proper update... ;)
Yeah well don't expect that again anytime soon. I'm still a very lazy, lazy man. :)
I didn't know Stiles had a soft side...
Probably got it from his mother... :)
His mother and several cups of grog I'd guess.

Through I really expected you to have more of a stir about KT-4019's possible return. Through admittedly I think I only used his full desingation once. ;)

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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by Praeothmin » Fri Dec 14, 2012 1:34 pm

The killer medical droid?
The one intent on enslaving mankind and instating himself as the Empire's leader?

Of course I was intrigued by his return, and recognized where he wanted to go with his brain controlling droid...
But I swore allegiance... bzzzt... bzzt... Ignore this meatbag's... I mean, ignore my ramblings, continue with the story of the glorious KT-4019...


*EDIT: see, you've failed to update this story for too long and now I can't even remember who KT-4019 was correctly... It's your fault I tell you, your fault... :)
Last edited by Praeothmin on Tue Dec 18, 2012 3:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by sonofccn » Fri Dec 14, 2012 6:36 pm

Just a tid bit update. Wanted something a bit more action oriented rather than the Talkies I have slated. Besides haven't done one of these in like four or five pages.

“I wouldn’t dream of interfering in the private affairs of a member planet. But I am deploying a token security force, about a division or two, to protect Imperial property and representatives. And if they are give concise orders to defend themselves from aggression with full prejudice.” Commodore Krevin explaining to Sigyn offical Buren, a Dissident sympathizer, the intentions of his Task Force.

Imperial Classics: The Later Years:

Last time on Imperial Classics {The Later Years} A galaxy controlled! But even as the glorious Emperor strengthens and fortifies the sole bastion of humanity the maleficent provocateurs of discord are ever ready along the fringes. Such as the Outer Rim world of Sigyn were dissidents, under the control of insidious Rebel operatives, have thrown it into open warfare. The only hope of peace lays with the colossal Super-Star Destroyer Judgment and her escorts but is even this banner of Imperial might enough to quench a world consumed in flames?

A milk run. That was how the Lieutenant has passed it down the line, a straight up plum assignment to be carried out and be done with. All KT-4019 had to do was lead Specs on a little probe through the cloister of rural villages the Emperor had obstinately decreed they were their to protect. Just to get the lay of the land and turn up any, however unlikely, dissident units which might have been holed up. Which was completely unlikely, word had descended, after the arrival of three Destroyers to the planet’s orbit and the pasting the dissidents had received during the fighting on the Capitol’s outskirts. The reconnaissance was merely formality, mere protection for the platoon in case of the lone hold out or two laid ambush.

“Fething LT. I’ll have his jorblocks!” KT-4019 snarled flinging himself up over the blaster marred outcropping and sprinting towards the singed and burning farmhouse.

The combusting dwelling already otherwise occupied, smoky forms protruding from the doorway and from the corners of the smashed open windows facing him, but with the whistling shriek of shells careening earthward the mere moments of survival it offered was the more agreeable of the two options. Besides he would have hated for the Dissidents to get the impression Stormtroopers were cowardly vacuum breathers who cut and ran from a fight.

So he ran, sizzling blaster bolts harrying the air around him, unleashing the torrent of his duel carbines across the house’s face. The digital enhancement of his visor allowing him to see clearly through the vapor-flash the energetic bottles explode into the flimsily made structure. Made from soft timber harvested from nearby forests and insulated with simple chalk like slabs which fragmented from the sudden heat and pressure and vomited spear tipped shards into gagging figures fighting to see through smoke stung eyes. Their orbs further betrayed by the raining mortar shells which flashed like individual bolts of lightening in the night’s sky as they pulverized KT-4019’s last position.

Each of the men struck down, or withdrawing deeper into the farmhouse, unadorned or protected by a blast-helm nor could many muster the tactical composite-vests worn by the world’s traditional military. Even a glancing shot, on the higher end of the spectrum, could be fatal and any miss generated a hailstorm of detritus which slashed their fabric uniforms and plain cloth with ease. As opposed to KT-4019’s armor which shielded him from the worst of the radiating heat or the crumpling debris disintegrating from roof as he reached and flattened himself against the building’s wall. Holstering one carbine he raised a hand to his utility belt removing a thermal detonator he primed then, leaning around the ablaze window spraying blaster bolts, hurled it at the dwelling’s center.

Blinding those trapped inside for a final, biting second before their flesh boiled from their bones as a cataclysmic star was birthed then died. The pangs of it vaporizing those of the nearest proximity and shattering the rest as the resultant vaporous cloud expanded, chunks of seared matter belching out the house face on oven roasted air through by then KT-4019 was already on the ground. Waiting for the shrill scream of air passage to subside he then oozed up towards the atomized doorway and fluidly slid in. His carbines parting in diametrically opposed directions seeking anything which survived remotely intact the inferno he’d unleashed, mostly shooting shadows he realized marching towards the room’s center but didn’t care.

“They did not know who the feth they were messing with!” He screamed releasing his triggers and scything his weapons back in front of him, everything from the pounding heart in his chest to the tip of his toes feeling exuberant and alive.

Only then, with the roar of blaster fire dwindling, did he hear the creak of the battered floorboards or sense the figure step behind him and wedge a blaster to his back. Hear the ragged, acrid cough of the gunman as he inhaled the toxic brew KT-4019 had sealed his armor of from.

“Butchers! Why? Why can’t you leave us in peace? Alone…” He gasped before the sound of a blaster shot filled the room along with the pungent aroma of incinerated flesh.

KT-4019, heart shuddering within him, whirling about to face the body of a rough hewn farmer type as it collapsed all but whole save for a neat black crater on the rear curve of his skull. Behind it, walking through the door as he readjusted his own carbine, emerged a second white clad warrior.

“ Always forgetting to watch your back.” The cyborg intoned in his electronic voice.” No matter how many times I scold you.”

“ And yet I’m still here. Must be doing something right.” KT-4019 answered looking from Specs to the rear of the crumbling domicile.” But since you’re here, what are you reading off of that blooming thing?”

Said “thing” being the portable scanner the cyborg had strapped to his forearm, a blinking, whirring contraption he raised towards his armored helm to get the most recent scan of his surroundings.

“Remaining signatures are clustered eighteen meters dead ahead and to the left, approximately six total. Likely just the mortar teams.” Specs answered tilting his head to read the device’s panel as he began panning it back and forth.” Reading no scanning signal from their position or communication emissions. They likely are firing blind and haven’t realized this emplacement has been overrun.”

“Then let’s go tell’em.” KT-4019 gushed with kid like excitement, the stormtrooper dipping beneath a sagging support beam as he made his way towards the rear of the house.

“Straight forward approach then?” He heard asked behind him while he removed a second thermal detonator and affixed it to the wall.

“Absolutely. Just like Gunny says you want to hit first, hit hard and leave no one to ask questions.” ’19 thundered as he retreated and curled away from his explosive, counting on his armor in part to shield him from the dazzling ember like spittle the blast cooked off.

Then he was off, charging through the billowing ash-smoke and smoldering carpet of splinters both his guns blanketing ahead of him as he taught the Dissidents the price for betraying the Empire. Of assaulting Valor squad…

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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by sonofccn » Mon Dec 17, 2012 4:48 pm

Another update. Gambil tries to intimidate Enot while Crell and Winthrop prepare thier own devious web for Krevin. I also try an expand Crell from merely incompetent backstabbing guy so hopefully that works.

“There exists dark and primordial beings whose intelligences stretch over millennia, whose smallest thoughts could fill planets and whose hungers are beyond comprehension. That, pitifully so far, your insignificant race has triumphed over the equally as flawed and limited creatures is in no way proof of your endurance or will.” Excerpt of distorted audio log of Alliance prisoner, believed to be Ahmos Khu, recovered from Colditz retention center following it going “silent” and discovery of the murder-suicide of the entire base personal.

Talon-II, Emperor’s Providence-

“No. As a matter of fact I don’t believe you.” Enot said in his slow, gravelly voice folding his arms over his chest.”Rynth is as loyal as they come.”

Even without the enhancement of his Phase III/C armor his rocky, weathered frame presented not an insignificant deterrence from angering him. His crudely hewn features tanned and scarred over his years of service leaving a face unfit for the recruitment holos but none the less exuded a morbid confidence.

“ Such state of affairs is the reason I have a job.” Gambil replied back with deathly seriousness.” Care to ask how many “devoutly loyal” men fill my dossier?”

“No I wouldn’t want to waste my breath. Besides. I thought you were the one with questions.” The grizzled Stormtrooper intoned, as cool and composed as a meadow’s glade.

The same couldn’t be said for Huriel, a more pedantic twitch to his normal exuberant motions as well as a slight sheen of sweat on his youthful face. Which was not to say the Stormtrooper wasn’t determined, having shot down the alleged charge made by the ISB man if more colorfully, or bashful from expressing himself. Nor was it merely reckless confidence, Huriel in his few short years of service having spilled blood across lush jungles and urban sprawls becoming well acquainted with its cause and repercussions. Much of that alongside Rynth, the three of them watching each other’s back ensuring they all made it back to the Talon-II each time.

“Well if you believe your friend is innocent of the charges so much the better. You should be eager for him to prove at tribunal his innocence and be cleared of all charges.” Gambil managed to say with a straight face.” If you know where he is…”

“ Wouldn’t be sporting to betray a battle-brother even if we did know.” Enot, running a finger around the empty rim of his mug, answered.” Not that I expect a serpent to understand honor of course but none the less.”

“Interfering much less lying to a Security Bureau investigation has fatal consequences. That I can understand. Do you?”

“Yes. Yes we do.” Enot, raising dew slick finger to silence Huriel’s oncoming outburst, remarked coldly.” In fact a man much like you said something similar many years ago. Back when us backwater hick regiments still had to made do with Phase II armor.”

Just a touch of the melancholy creeping into his voice as he remembered that icy moon and its equally frigid people who most strenuously objected to the “protection” of the Empire. If they had taken up arms through, revolted, things would have been different Enot knew. Then they would have been pulverized, incinerate from orbit by Venators, bombed by strafing LAATs, shelled and shot. They’d been broken apart, scattered and overwhelmed piecemeal grinding them into the dust or accepting their unconditional surrender. But instead they simply had refused to “kneel” before the appointed Imperial Governor’s authority, rebellion but not with shouts and blaster fire but with quiet negation on due tithes and levies. And so the Governor had ordered an example made, a decision he was to regret.

“And did you listen to him? Or did you foolish play with your life then too?” The Agent inquired with a most dishonest smile on his face.

“I…humored his allegation. That a fellow Stormtrooper had not only murdered his superior officer but the Governor as well but I did not believe his words any more than I do yours.” Enot lied, knowing then like the rest of the assigned squad the trooper’s guilt.

Witnessing the soldier, a youth of such a young age, buckle and strain under the command to fire on the tethered prisoners. The only one of them who had hesitated when the command was given, his the only who remained up right shackled in place as a helpless target. How the platoon’s Lieutenant, conscious of the watching gaze of the Governor, had stormed to him, berated him, called into question his fealty to the Emperor and his worth as a human being before, finally, drawing his side blaster and shooting the chained target through his chest.

“Scum like that is what we are entrusted to prune from the beloved Emperor’s galaxy. If you don’t have the heart for it then I suggest leaving the Corps to find a less daunting occupation.” The Lieutenant had snapped, his final words, turning back towards the private just in time to see the searing flash of his erupting blaster.

Turning after the startled Governor next, the pompous glutton erased in a hail of scorching plasma, and Enot and the rest of the squad did nothing. Only watched the Governor’s corpse fall back smoldering and the Stormtrooper, lowering his weapon, turn towards them. His helm falling to the ground revealing his sobbing, tear stained face.

“But you interfered in his investigation? I don’t know whom you dealt with previously but I assure hoping for such leniency from me is a fool’s errand.” Gambil spat, his frequent temper flaring once more at the dismissive Enot’s tone.

“Actually the Agent perished shortly after he threatened me. Quite ghastly, landspeeder mishap out on the tundra wastes. Frozen solid by the time we found him.” Enot answered with smug pleasure.

The entire ordeal his idea honoring both their duty to carry out the Emperor’s will as well as their honor shared with a battle-brother. Obviously murdering an officer in the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps as well as a planetary leader couldn’t go unpunished no matter the circumstances so in that part the investigator had due warrant to punish the private. But to kill him as a sneak-thief, some assassin from the shadows that was not sporting. Instead both men, without proper insulation gear, were to be pitted in the frozen crucible. The winner allowed to go his way in the Galaxy and the loser to freeze on the merciless ice. His debt paid when he shambled back to the frontier outpost overwatching the ice wastes the former Stormtrooper was treated for his wounds and, once his strength returned, allowed to depart. Enot himself the last to clasp his brother in arms as he left for the dingy shuttle, and from there only he knew, expressing himself in overly melodramatic fashion as he had been inclined in those early years. Back when he was young and hadn’t learned self-control.

“Accident do have a nasty habit of being untimely.” Gambil noted more enraged by the audacity of a Stormtrooper to threaten him than actually fearful of it.” It would be a shame if my investigation was hampered by your untimely death.”

“And who would do that? A scrawny fether like you?” Huriel blustered, cheeks red from imbibing, releasing some of the tension he felt.” Enot has cracked open the carapace-skulls of Megarachnids, stormed assault bunkers and a thousand other things you never could dream of.”

“Huriel I think discretion-“ Enot started, his rumbling tones for once not enough to stop the younger trooper now that he was started.

“No. I’m sick of cretins of our friend’s stature threatening us. Trying to make us betray our friend, our teammate. We are the tip of the spear, we go out and fight together while he sticks inside safe starships and space stations playing in the shadows.” He thundered slamming his fist down on the table with a thunderous crash.

Loud enough to make the entire cantina freeze for a moment, nearly every blurry eye on their table. On Gambil who unexpectedly felt conscious over it. Or perhaps merely the upstart braggart’s gall to speak to him in such a manner. Feeling better regardless when the patrons turned their attention away and the bar resumed with the idle background chatter of hushed conversations. Except for a drunken Ratting from the deepest, poorest part of Imperial Center bellowing for another bottle for him and his weeping friend all of it became a single indistinct white noise protecting with its hum one against eavesdropping.

“Learn to control your dog Enot.” The Agent hissed standing up.” Before someone else teaches him.”

“If you think you’re up to the job Shadow-man…” Enot warned slowly watching the man as he prepared to leave.”…I warn you my dog has teeth.”

Best, in the Stormtrooper’s experience, to always bluff biggest when dealing with Bureau Security. Like many predators they sought easy prey and when confronted tended to retreat. Of course few predators were known to scour entire worlds merely to punish a grudge but those were the breaks.

Talon-II, Captain’s office-

“Then until then.” The flickering ghost of Commodore Krevin acquiesced before disintegrating into the ethers.

Leaving Krell and Winthrop alone in the chamber, the two now free to exchange predatory smiles to one another as the Captain retreated behind his managerial desk to retrieve two vial-glasses and a small bottle of dark, amber wine. Unlike certain officers in service to the Emperor he didn’t share the temptation to overindulge on the drinks of the gods but on specific occasions a rich boutique he’d found could do wonders. And this was one of those times, scrapping away the waxen seal with his thumb than removing the cork and pouring a shallow helping in either glass.

“With a little luck our problems will be solved short-swift.” Krell mused stuffing the topper back into the bottle and setting it aside on his desktop.

Said “problems” the intra-political fighting which every officer of the Star Fleets, to one degree or another, was expected to play. Which was one of the reasons why the fatal training accidents among officers had risen three hundred percent from the Wargames, such as they had been conducted, from the Old Republic. Admittedly for the previous thousand years or so, with the shrinkage and breakup of the “Old Armadas”, total Galactic wide maneuver and drills had become impossible replaced with Sector and in many cases System maneuvers conducted by local commanders with planetary assets which could explain to some extent the discrepancy. An Empire of millions of vessels, from lowly space tugs to colossal Super-Star Destroyers, orchestrated to perform intricate tactics with crews fresh from the Academies would surely have a higher accident rating than a fleet of a few dozen bulkcruisers largely expected to orbit a world and commanded by experienced “spacedogs”. Still the selectiveness in how certain aspiring officers were scuttled, opening the path for rivals to advance, gave one food for thought.

“Yes sire.” Winthrop answered accepting his glass and raising it towards his commander who mirrored his actions.” To a successful completion.”

“And the rewards its brings.” Krell George answered raising his chalice to his lips and savoring the dark liquid.

A far cry from Winthrop’s rather garish gulping of the fluid betraying the uncouth upbringing he normally repressed beneath the very model of what, a few yeas previously, would have been called old Coruscanti regality. A good second in command but in some things, a properly discriminating pallet for instances, he left something to be desired.

“Thank you sire.” He answered lowering the glass to the desk and resuming his rigid, at attention stance.” Now if I may be excused I’ll see to ensuring the ship all but sparkles when the Commodore steps aboard.”

Without his henchman Tyler Winthrop mentally added, an unexpected opportunity which Krevin presented and which his master was skillful enough to pounce upon. The Commodore was merely a drunken buffoon, a lucky one admittedly, whom without the guises and veils of a heroic leader he festooned about himself could be easily toppled. But Tyler, Winthrop at least suspected that man to be so much more. The true power behind the command throne, through the Commodore had managed to survive and excel for years before the two had officially crossed paths, or merely an eager beneficiary it was without question that the Judgment’s second in command spun webs of intrigue and if any person could shield the Commodore from his own brutish actions it would be Tyler.

“Excellent. We don’t want any mistakes.” Crell answered dismissing him.” From us at least. Krevin may make all the mistakes he cares to.”

“Then until then sire.” Winthrop said with delicious irony as he nodded then swiveled on his heels to exit the office.

Leaving Captain George alone with his thoughts to savor the receding contents of his vial and only those contents. Not a glutton or weakling for the ambrosia but a man with the resolve of durasteel.

“Didn’t use to be this way.” He whispered leaving his desk and bestriding to the office’s window pane and its computer reconstituted projection of idle star fields.

A requirement of course, an actual porthole to the outer vacuum not only would have required his office be placed in the outer most reaches of the Star Destroyer but subject to the whims of space detritus. A single micro-meteor slipping past when the deflectors were down was all it would take to rupture a pane of crystalline glass venting him to the merciless void.

“Used to be honor, loyalty among those who flew the Republic colors.” He remarked watching those distant, burning lights.” Not now through. Now we kill each other for lack of an enemy to fight or even besides.”

Such were the wages of victory, of success. At least now. For his part he’d done his best to stay out of it only for it to come to a head here in some distant Galaxy far away from home and hearth. Krevin, in either lunacy or reckless indifference, wasn’t going to want his chance at playing soldier ended and clearly had no intention of ever finding their way back home. Crell’s duty to his men, to the Emperor if he still lived, therefore plain.

“You can keep the sigils and rank Krevin. I don’t want them.” He continued speaking to the darkness of the void.” I’m comfortable where I’m at but we’re going home. This childish adventure you seem intent on ends here.”

Downing the last of his glass in a brutish toss the Captain at last turned away from the shining points of light projected tiring of their muted spectating on his private thoughts. He, unlike the Commodore, was a professional and he knew his place was on the bridge with his crew.

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Praeothmin
Jedi Master
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Location: Quebec City

Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by Praeothmin » Tue Dec 18, 2012 4:13 pm

Excellent updates...
Yes, I did miss KT-4019's antics, and Specs as well...


Am I the only one thinking that maybe, just maybe, Krell and Windthrop are underestimating Krevin's abilities and intelligence? :)

sonofccn
Starship Captain
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Re: A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

Post by sonofccn » Tue Jan 01, 2013 9:43 pm

Happy New Year! And to celebrate another update, continuing the debacle of Gambil/Parvus as well as showing I haven't wholly forgotten about Stuart and the Blood Hawks.

“They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, that the noblest of goals will not spare you from infernal damnation. You can only ask, on that fateful day of eternity as the brimstone laced shackles are fitted around you, if the price you extracted in exchange for your own soul was worth it. If the good will prevail, live on long after your mortal evil has turned to dust. Ask and pray you still worry about the answer.” Bureau Agent Smith, several drinks in, explaining his “life philosophy”.

Talon-II, outside Emperor’s Providence-

I. Blue oyster cult-After Dark

Exploding forth from the den of intrigue and sloth which the Emperor’s Providence was like the fiery outburst of a star’s flare the hard faced Gambil stormed down the adjourning passage, his mind vividly imagining the painful and prolonged punishment he’d enact on the stubborn likes of Enot. As well as idiotic Huriel. Both, typical of the Stormtrooper Corps, were suffering under the laughable delusion that they were somehow apart or above his interest merely because they were the mailed fist of the Emperor. So focused on his planned breakage of that rosy illusion that he failed to spy the black painted droid until they collided. An interaction which, in keeping with his day, went poorly for the Agent, soft tissue loosing off to far sterner durasteel while knotted muscles were effortlessly overpowered by their servomotor equivalents.

Toppled back like a wayward youth caught by a maglev train, particular the monstrous versions which entwined the rusty globe of his birth world, from an encounter which barely phased the mechanical simpleton. The droid, after swiveling its head from side to side in electronic confusion, then lowering it to the hobbled heap at its metallic feet and gushingly offered its deepest apologies as it attempted to help the Imperial Agent to his feet. Inadvertently revealing its identity with its tortured and protracted electronic mewling of regret and sorrow.

“Oh please O’ sire, a thousand curses to my antiquated and inefficient circuits for my transgression. Curse my maker a thousand fold more for construction of such an enfeeble and worthless servant to you O’great master.” QT-HPO groveled without hint of self-respect or proportion.” I saw you O’ sire but I did not predict your intention, if I had known you hadn’t seen me-“

“Shut it you infernal babbling chronometer.” Gambil spat pulling himself free from the machine’s hands, deeply fighting the urge to deposit a blaster bolt through its bobbing head.

An impulse he rescinded against, same as he’d done from shooting dead Enot where he smugly sat, after the breadth of a reflection. Not out of any piety or expected real worth from the sniveling toady but rather of the expense of time it would take to pitch the machine down the garbage chute. Time he didn’t have, Rynth’s squadmates had proven a deadend as he knew it was and he wasn’t about to stand around wasting further time while the Man in Black pursued real leads. There was no way that grizzled codger was going to get the better of this partnership, a hackney likely senile creep who wasn’t fit to polish his boots as far as Gambil was concerned. Tall tales and proverbial ghost stories non withstanding.

“Just come with me and be quiet about it.” He , exasperated, at last ordered stepping around the droid.

Through of course that wasn’t a command the hovelling mechaniod knew how to perform, first going endlessly on with the now typical platitudes on his abject worthlessness and eagerness to obey such a wise and great leader. Then, after what Gambil fear was the exhausting of the Galactic Standard dictionary of every synonym for “servile”, the prattling chatterbox on legs moved on to updating the Agent on Tun’s condition. Failing to understand Gambil’s mark indifference to the fact his operative had been stabilized the machine continued to prattle on about the enforcer’s injuries and the chances of his recovery, including long term neurological damage, in the bubbly subservient mannerisms of its programming long after they’d reached the office Gambil had earmarked for his own personal use and the Man in Black was congenial enough to grace them with his presence.

Entering confidently through the door, his hands vanished in the pockets of his dark cloth great coat, as to all the Galaxy a king returning to his throne and took one of the empty seats at the conference table which had been requisitioned along with the room. Sitting he withdrew his hand and extracted a datapad to study through not before revealing the glimpse of a blaster’s handle in a move which was too sloppy not to be intentional. Just as Gambil made a point to reveal the power cell of the blaster he’d been polishing with a white rag read fully charged and ready.

“No assistants?” He asked his older counterpart, interjecting over the droning buzz of the worthless droid sitting at elbow’s reach from him.” I’m almost insulted. What if I had stood poised to shoot the first thing which walked through that door? “

“You wouldn’t. Not without knowing what contingencies I may have arranged to cover my premature departure from this world. What secrets, and a man like you has secrets, which might come to light if I wasn’t around to head them off as it were.” Parvus winked looking up from his datapad.” Besides, I hope by now you realize you need my help in capturing this Rynth.”

“And what are you adding? You leave me to babysit and deal with this babbling moron-“ Gambil harshly condemned jerking a thumb towards QT-HPO who immediately apologized.”- then wasting my time with a couple of Icemen who likely don’t know feth and wouldn’t tell me if they did. All while you do what? Twiddle your thumbs?”

“Preliminary questioning of the subject’s squadmembers was unlikely to lead anywhere but needed to be done. Meanwhile I’ve busied myself reviewing peripheral but possibly factors to the case.” Parvus answered returning to his datapad.

“Such as?” The younger man said with melodramatic embellishment as he reclined in his chair and folded his hands together.” Please, I’d like to know what your wisdom and experience have been able to turn up while I’ve been prattling around like a fool.”

“For starters I’ve conversed with Bechham regarding the condition of your poor associate. The one which lived I mean.” The Man in Black dryly responded without looking up.” Multiple broken ribs, severe skull fractures through by luck it appears minimal if any actual brain damage, a dislocated shoulder and a shattered forearm. Along with some tissue bruising along the face and torso through I have doubts that is of any nominal importance.”

“Due tell. And what does all that help us do?” Gambil asked with a roll of his eyes.” Beyond that Tun is built with the stubborn constitution of a Reek of course.”

“Chiefly that Rynth displayed phenomenal strength in his assault, and if your summary of your portion of the fight is to be trusted did so with incredible speed. Frankly I’ve seen Wookiee escapes which were more tidy.” The Man in Black answered, through in those cases it hadn’t been for lack of trying.

Nor did that include the infamous Death Star incident he’d spent weeks reviewing following the demise of that tremendous battle station, futilely trying to understand how apparently two amateur Agents of the Rebellion, admittedly one events had transpired to indicate had some presence with the Force, had been able to smuggle a Wookiee of all things straight to a detention center without the various levels of security batting an eye. Untold quadrillions of credits poured to build the most fearsome weapon the modern Galaxy had ever seen, through he was aware of certain even more inventive devices which would be revealed in the near future, and a handful of Rebel saboteurs could obliquely walk through it. A thermal charge against the primary annihilation chamber as opposed to merely deactivating a tractor beam and the Rebellion wouldn’t have needed a plucky fighter squadron to win the day.

“All of which tells us the assailant had an athletic build and was trained in how to use it. Such as being a Stormtrooper.” The younger Agent dismissed flippantly, unsure if the older man was merely toying with him or if his mind was starting to go under.

“Quite telling then that you were spared almost unmarred from the incident nor did Rynth bother to ensure Tun’s death or yours. The former one might possibly forgive considering his condition but yours…not as much.” Parvus noted neatly continuing to thumb through the screen of text he was reading.

Getting the expected rise out of his younger associate who stiffened and leaned forward once more, his hand returning close to where his blaster rested on the table. White cleaning rag still draped over it which he seemed to use to try and shield his encroaching hand from the Man in Black’s eyes.

“Is that an allegation?” He asked coldly after a breath, his fingers sliding over the weapon’s stock.

“Not at all. If I didn’t think I could trust you I wouldn’t have let you live.” Parvus answered, face still glued to the screen.” I merely find it an unusual show of restraint. After all without survivors it would be that much easier to fabricate an explanation for the revealing Operator number.”

“I see, but his number was already logged. He had nothing to gain and everything to lose if he dawdled.” Gambil suggested, releasing his grip on his weapon, hardly happy to relive his failure but more determined to shoot holes in whatever theory his older associate was forming.

“Which is another interesting bit of minutia. You’ve claimed, and I believe you, that it was Rynth whom you interrupted. However Rynth was a veteran soldier with years of service to the Empire. Yet apparently he forgot one of our most basic security, almost as if he wanted to be caught and yet when presented with that option violently rebuffed it.”

“Your suggesting idiocy on a man paid to leap headfirst into firewasp nests is abnormal? That it is less likely than there is more going on here than we can see?” The younger Agent said slowly looking favorably for the coming future when the old fossil could be flushed from an airlock.

“There is always more going on than it appears. The trick is heading it off before it takes your head off.” Parvus said at last setting his datapad down on the table.

After deactivating the acoustic “screamer” which was built in and comprised the bulk of the innocuous looking pad, an ultrasonic disrupter whose short timed pulse caused debilitating nausea and disorientation in the humanoids exposed unless proper precaution was taken. Such as the insulating buds he wore carefully concealed in each of his ears, their filtration allowing the normal range of sounds to pass without difficulty but neutralizing anything above a certain cut off level. Just in case Gambil hadn’t been so willing to listen to reason.

“ And to that I suggest finding out why anyone would want the knowledge Rynth was accessing, certain discrete inquiries both on this ship and the others of the Taskforce, alongside our continuing of questioning individuals who would share close proximity to the trooper.” The Man in Black explained with all the cheerfulness of a morgue.

“And I wonder who you are going to put on that glorious bug hunt of a mission.” Gambil resentfully groaned not liking being led around on the proverbial leash.

“For his squadmates one of your underlings will suffice for now, you’ve already interrogated them. Keep a tab and follow, see how they react. Most immediately through I think your concern should be Shiami. He’s a soft, spongy-spine negotiator type. Perhaps he might be more vulnerable to your…unique charms.”

To which the younger man mumbled something obscured beneath his breath, what Parvus caught was far from flattering to his position or heredity.

Wraith, training arena D-

II. two steps from hell- Sons of War

By outward appearance the droids pacing around the hinterland of or cooped up inside of the iron gray bunker were flawless simulacrums of the battledroids employed by the Army of the Confederacy. Internally however the relatively complex artificial brains had been usurped by simplistic processors capable of only a handful of preset actions and simplistic audio/visual identifications. Largely little more than enough to keep them from blasting their mechanical brethren as they oblivious waited for their truncated lives to be ended with the prejudice only the organic mind could conceive.

Beyond their huddled cloister of machines, under the meek observance of the emplacement gunners in the blockhouses or the marching sentries, in the simple and gray scaled cavern sized room rose up great stone slabs in haphazard clumps across the chamber’s breadth. Granite scales, shed from some infernal rocky beast, seriating in disjointed stripes to both allow and counter members of the respective teams from advancing under cover. The stone blocks unfurling to either side of the bunker systems, a central keep with concurrent ring of smaller pillboxes, allowing them to be flanked and destroyed in piecemeal as proper doctrine dictated. To the Blood Hawks through standard doctrine was more a challenge than anything else as the sentry droid learned harshly its acoustic sensors detecting movement which it swung towards just in time to glimpse the impossible large clenched gauntlet which knocked its head off.

The rest of its body shrinking towards the sterile and vacant floor, crushed beneath the impressive heel of Big Boy as the massive stormtrooper advanced from behind the wall segment. The heavily customized and unique rotary cannon the giant projected from one powerful hand whirring to life, drowning in a scarlet tide the loose clumps of faux B1 and B2s patrolling the perimeter. Most exploding violently, their fragile frames consumed by the volatile energies unleashed in the torrent, none the wiser to the cause of their demise their electronic brains just barely registering the alarm the death of the first sentry had sown before a plasma bolt or ten had struck. The few of latter group scarcely doing better, fumbling to turn in the ruby sea of destruction and fire off a shot at the encroaching giant or the pair of, much smaller, troopers who flanked out from behind Big Boy. Against the former, whose armor was thick enough to ward off a full powered DTL-19 rifle shot, it was a waste and against the latter both with the hurried speed and grace found only on the battlefield. Each dropping to a crouch once sufficiently clear from the giant, whom valiantly struggled to suppress and destroy any returning fire, and resting their tubular weapons systems across their respective shoulder. Needing only the support and stability it offered, thanks to each launcher having been pre-linked to their helm’s sensors, to fire the housed warheads.

Red plumes, which in accordance to the group’s esoteric whims crisscrossed each other towards opposing pillboxes, igniting from out the back of each and extending as a long, rapier tongue as the single use motor ignited and whistled up to its screaming velocity. This speed partly the reason why each missile perforated blockhouse side rather than splattering like an egg, the other half the funneling jet of magma of the warhead itself which effortlessly shattered through half a meter of reinforced rockcrete dousing the contents within in its destructive essence. Igniting secondary explosions as high density powercells which fed the E-weapons and thermal detonators cooked off further wrecking the pillboxes.

“Front door kicked open.” Hammer thundered as he and Jeb slung their Plex launchers and rose drawing carbines.”Ya’ going to block the back or leave it to us again?”

“ Shucks, quiet your griping. It’s already done.” Snake, on the opposite side of the room perched on the roof of a slab, radioed back as he made each of the remaining gunners’ heads explode.

Cycling next to their bemused teammates who regulated the battery and power feeds for the respective weapons then dropping his aim to the bunker itself. Peppering the facing weapon’s slit, and claiming any Big Boy’s withering fire had failed to which at last slowed and stalled, with bolts which arced over head of his racing squadmates the sharpshooter watched them progress beyond the smoking ruins which the outer blockhouses had become and then split into separate teams to take the primary fortification.

“All this whining and people think you ain’t enjoying yourself.” Snake, incinerating a B2’s chest out, added as he watched Jeb slink to the edge of the weapon’s slit.

The simple spoken plainsman producing a pair of thermal detonators from his person which he primed and threw slinging around the gun port’s edge just as a new and jagged edge voice interrupted the com-line to answer Snake’s comment.

“Live fire, the scent of burning droids, the crack of explosives…what isn’t to love?” Psycho, waddling last from behind the wall under the weight of his heavy flamer, boomed as three separate explosions went off.

Two Jeb’s shredding the gun compartment of the bunker which he finished off, with Snake’s help, with a rapid fusillade of blaster bolts through the smoking vision slit. The other belonging to the bellicose Hammer, whose Colonial yell nearly drowned out the noise of his charge, who’d planted a shape demolition pack on the magneticly sealed door situated off to the side of the fortification and nominal under the overlapping fire of two of the four pillboxes.

From within the resultant inferno as the door buckled and split messily asunder the trio of B1’s and supporting B2’s which had been far enough away from the blast to survive had time to squawk a singular command to “halt” at the invading humans before Big Boy blocked the entrance and jammed the rotary cannon inside the still steaming maw. Its electronic shriek on activating matching the droids’ as they were mercilessly gunned down then, the giant far too large to fit inside, falling silent again as Big Boy withdrew to the side of the entrance scanning for any possible resurgence of threat from the blasted wasteland as first Psycho then Hammer made their way into the devastated passage.

The ceiling above, built to help dampen and absorb near strikes from bombing runs, cracking and sighing with the crumbling of detritus which rained down while the glowing walls bore mutely torso sized craters where bolt after bolt had impacted. Gouging holes through, and in many cases clearing, the cramped interior rooms of the bunker which didn’t stop Psycho’s merry laced antics of jabbing his gun’s nozzle through each hole and dousing the other end in the Devil’s warm embrace.

“Look at’em burn. Like fat on a skittle.” He crooned to the miniature bonfires each droid became once engulfed, becoming even more ecstatic on finding a “live” one among the ruins.

The battle robot, a B1, found crawling over the littered floor from the gunnery chamber. Its waist and lower ending vanishing into a broken, sputtering wreck of sparks and tangled wires which dragged in its wake. True to its simple programming on seeing the Stormtroopers the droid attempted to push itself up on one arm and raise its blaster towards them only to be blinded by Psycho’s jet of flame. The shimmering pillar of fire consuming the battledroid, igniting the oil based lubricant used through its moving parts and melting its delicate electronic brain. Its components, separating from the heat, combusting in turn forcing the head to swell and burst like a metallic pustule as the body slammed back down. A crackling brisket Psycho and Hammer trampled over as they ensured no survivors.

“Looks like we got this place under wraps.” Hammer reported moments later.” So tell us Sarge, how did we rate?”

The loud mouth stomping out of the bunker ahead of Psycho, whom was still spraying a few lingering droids, and directing his gaze across the lengthy room to the observer pulpit perched just a few meters beneath the high ceiling. On it, along with Rookie his aid, Sergeant Stuart stood the latter unhelmeted and holding a pair of field macronoculars from which he’d watched his team take the enemy bunker as well as eliminate the droids moving through the field of walls itself.

“You took the bunker.” Stuart allowed.” Through with needless exposure to enemy fire by taking it up the center.”

“Ah come off it. That’s half the fun.” Psycho rumbled emerging, helmet and its transceiver in the crook of his arm, holding a ciggara to ignite on the exhaust of his incinerator.” These metal pukes ain’t even worth the effort unless you half give it to’em.”

Considering the droids’ weapons had been lethally charged the newly minted sergeant didn’t quite see what the fun was through he bite his lip on that rather than voice it. He was, in eyes of the Blood Hawks, still a usurper to Bragg’s rank and position. An intruder they regarded with mixes of indifference or dislike. Which admittedly considering the unit in question was the best he could hope for.

Predominantly formed from the warriors of the Empire whom, for a variety of colorful reasons, had proven unable to integrate with normal squads the Blood Hawks tended to note their displeasure viscerally. Bragg through had brought them together, which had previously been unthinkable save to save time on a firing squad, and hammered them into a brutal machine. One with an impressive list of credits and glories from over a dozen campaigns on just as many worlds.

“I understand if this wasn’t as challenging as you would have liked.” The Sergeant relented at the last.”And I congratulate you on your displayed teamwork and intersquad tactics but I feel I do have to point out your actions jeopardize the greater stability of the battlefield. If the enemy had swept around and cut off your line of retreat-“

“I’d have seen’em.” Snake cut in.” And then they would have been dealt with.”

“They ain’t built a clanker that can take us nor Xeno.” Hammer chimed in, taking the lead on returning the squad back to the room’s far side.” And if they did cut us off, well then we get to just that much more fun when we punch through’em.”

“Maybe after weeding a few of’em down inside their own bunker, then collapse it on their heads.” Psycho uproariously laughed, puffing away, as if it was the cosmos’s funniest joke.

And perhaps to him it was the only joke, the only meaning in a Galaxy which was as incoherent and meaningless as the swirling embers in the air. The only thing of substance, treading the burned wastes with his iron shod, the screams of the anguished and ashen silt hanging heavy in the air from his ceaseless toil.

As only one born to the depravity of a public orphanage, parents anonymous, and who thrice was discharged to the capacity of the Rangers, such was the policial forces of Soth Thejas called, for not inconsiderate times for conduct of extremely “ungentlemanly behavior”. The incarcerations only increasing in breadth and frequency once he came to legal age.

“Their confident enough.” Rookie, at Stuart’s side, remarked doing his best to stand stiff and straight like the hero appeared on the holo-vids.” But they haven’t tried against what we’ve seen.”

His voice rising slightly, even through his helm, as he said that relieving boarding that hellish ship and the frantic fighting which had taken place on the Wraith itself between its seemingly unpenetrable bulkheads. Then there was the fighting down at New Hope which the young soldier had religiously devoured, from the bioform of the enemy to observed tactical data, than condensed for his sergeant. Just in case the Blood Hawks were called in, scuttlebutt had that the war was winding down but it didn’t hurt to be careful.

“They haven’t seen the Hell we have.” Stuart agreed checking off his mike, his voice even keeled and placid as he spoke.” But these sort, they’d sooner head bash the Devil than look at him. I just hope that’ll be enough.”

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