Trogan Insurrection (PM me)

[Shayrina Tarthus]

The planet Trogan, Coordinates: R-7.
Kalidran City

Floating in the outer-rim between Imperial and Galactic Alliance space, just off the Perlemian trade route. One of the planets that seemed to do okay without major government influence, but suffered from the dichotomy of having both populations on it's surface. Technically, however, it was an Alliance - held planet.

Since a few years after the Battle of Yavin, the planet was mostly left to it's own devices. Alliance set up their basics to keep the Empire at bay- and the planet ran with things from there. Like most outer-rim planets, though- it fended for itself. After a failed stint at trying to jump-start their tourism market, the planet continued on in economic instability.

The planet is a beautiful place, despite its temperamental storms. Skies of blue-gray, and all manner of biomes on the continental planet. Sparse colonies spread out over the terrain, some poor, some well-established cities. Despite everything, it's not a terrible place to live like many other Outer-Rim colonies, likely due to its proximity to one of the major trade routes.
-----
In a city decently established (however economically depressed)- people went about their daily lives. Kalidran city- named for one of the original colonizer’s imperial leaders. It lies in a slightly sub-arid biome- mostly dusty and rocky, but some plant and wildlife. Large enough to have a little bit of everything. A large populous, a few skyscrapers toward the center of the city, surrounded by smaller businesses, housing, and the further you go from the center- the more rural it gets.

The Alliance’s target, however: A residential area with small houses built nearly on top of each other, three and four-story apartments, and small convenience stores. Construction of duracrete and stone- cheaply made, but still standing.

The streets were only wide enough for one-way traffic- but most walked. Clothing wires strung between buildings had sparse linens hung to dry. A random buggy would hover quickly through the streets, dodging around the scattered foot traffic. The ground was mostly paved, but the streets were in disrepair.

On one end of the city was a Galactic Alliance government building- a bit of a local courthouse, and an embassy. A sturdily built, boxy architecture surrounded by a small shoulder-high stone wall topped with durasteel lattice-fencing. Lightly guarded at best, local Law Enforcement was thin, and the Alliance Posted guards were local militia.

During a normal day- an explosion shook the entire side of the city. Blaster fire erupted and a handful of people were killed. The front gate access had been blown apart, and some well equipped assailants rushed in- trigger happy. No one really knows their objective, but they were flushed away and reported to have hidden in the city.

Local Law Enforcement believed them to be Imperial zealots. A rise in crimes have steadily increased: mostly anti-GA movement stuff. Rioting began breaking out, and the Law Enforcement and Militia groups had their hands well-full of an insurgency before they knew it.

The all-out attack on the GA buildings was the last straw. Though instead of sending in some large-scale force as an intimidation tactic, they sent in a single unit.

-----

An Alliance Carrier hung in orbit of Trogan- recently arrived. It carried the Alliance 4th SF group's 3rd battalion task forces. Shay's squadron of fighters were parked here for now, and she and the rest of Aurek company were on duty. She was a member of the 'Shrikes'- a GA Special Force unit. Normally they'd go in manning their fighter craft, however this wasn't as 'deep' of a mission as the group was usually tasked with. This was more of a mundane task.

In the hangar bay, a few transports were sitting, ready for launch- but not primed to 'go' yet. They were waiting on the order from their company command. Most the folks were triple checking the Juggernaut (Large wheeled tank), and the smaller freerunners (like lightly armored speeders with cannons)- making sure things were ready for drop, and crewmen waddled around, leisurely making checks they have already made time and time again while they waited.

Shayrina sat in a troop transport's empty cabin, legs dangling off the side- casually waiting for the rest of her team to board as they lollygagged on the platform nearby. Her near-black hair was pulled back, and she was in her typical Alliance SF gear. Leatheris reinforced boots, Dark gray-brown tac-pants, unit jacket under light armor vest, utility and ammo belt, and her helmet sitting beside her on the transport's floor. Her pistol was holstered at her hip, and her rifle was sitting comfortably on it's side next to her, gloved left hand resting on it. Her right arm was up- leaning her weight on the cabin door. Her ‘checks’ were done. She wasn't going to obsess over them. The spare gear she was in charge of was already accounted for in the transport. Extra comms gear, mobile nodes, and other tech gear.

They all heard a clack on their communicators, and their company commander's voice- "All- right. Aurek company is cleared for launch. Shrikes, move out. Load 'em and launch 'em." Their team leader repeated the last sentiment from the staging area, hefted his weapon casually in hand, and headed straight for the transport, the other guys following suit.

The group shared a sense of relief and shared a moment of casual joy before they loaded up the transports quickly, taking seats in the open cabin. All were present and accounted for. Shay would normally be fooling around with the others, herself- though her mood was a little sour this 'morning'. Having not caught good rack-time, her eyes felt heavy. She just wanted to get planet-side, and get to work. Maybe that would wake her up.

[Salem Norongachi]

Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer 'Hand of Fate'
En-route to Trogan System
Time Since First Report: 3 Hours.

The screens flashed before him, intel from GAIS about the attack, possible culprits and persons of interest on the planet being correlated and matched with their own sources and findings. The links were there, dancing just at the edge of his and Emah's vision, but they didn't have enough to come to a solid conclusion.

"Its much easier to hack an Intelligence agency when they hit an official 'Clearance Denied' whenever they try to back-trace you." Emah spoke, disembodied, her voice filling his personal quarters just off the bridge via the speakers set in the wall behind his desk. Norongachis foot tapped with irritation, his brows furrowed as he sought the bigger picture in the data. After a few more minutes he let out an exasperated grunt and sat back in his chair, letting his hand slip around the glass of whiskey on the rich wroshyr-wood desk. If a BRT Supercomputer -Which Emah, technically, was-, couldn't join the myriad of dots filling his screen then what chance did an old man with more head injuries to count have?

Emah, undeterred by his silence on the subject, continued. "Sooner or later, though, they'll ask questions."

"Let them ask. They'd get more answers out of that bulkhead, besides the people that know about Division 31 outside of this ship, I can count on two fingers. All the rest? Officially dead, and the dead aren't in the habit of speaking." and it was true, the entire point of his new posting and the creation of the Division, was that people in prime positions of power had finally woken up to the possibility that not everyone in the Galaxy was nice, and that the things they held so dear might just be the weakest link in the Galactic Alliances chain. None of them signed anything, none of them were consulted, Division 31 simple came into being because plausible deniability wasn't enough, not for the things they would, and had to do, to ensure that a few malignant tumors didn't run rampant and rot the very core of the government and the ideals it stood for. "Unless you're a whacked out Sith on Korriban...then they never shut up."

"Alliance Carrier 'Resolute' has been dispatched to Trogan." Emah spoke as the new information streamed into her databanks.

"ETA?"

"12 Hours."

"Good, plenty of time to get a lay of the land before they start kicking over the ant hill." he took a long drink from his glass and let it burn away the fatigue that lingered at the edge of his mind. "Send me a file on the ships CO and anyone of note on the ground crew." he set the glass down and rubbed his eyes. "I'm hitting the rack, wake me if something happens."

* * *

Trogan
Kalidran City
'Caf'ing You, Caf'ing Me' Tapcafe
Time Since First Report: 11 Hours

The Wave Dancer had touched down without incident in what passed for a starport on the edge of Kalidran. The Fate lay some where outside of the system. Running dark and monitoring their intelligence channels, while he did the grunt work planet-side. His first port of call was the starport cantina. A plain affair, little in the way of passing trade and less hope of more in the future, but it had handful of barflies littering it. People spoke in places like this, and the more relaxed they got, the more their thoughts became words. So he set himself at the bar, ordered a drink, and listened. It wasn't a difficult job and all he wanted to do was gauge the mood of the city, were they against the attack? For it? Was it surprising or had it been a long time coming?

Twenty minutes told him that the scant few sentients were no more local than he, and that the news of some backwater world erupting in violence was just another day in a Galaxy locked in an eternal death struggle. No further forward. So he paid his tab, inquired about local establishments further into the city and ended up in 'Caf'ing You, Caf'ing Me', with an oppressive crush of bodies vying for the attention of the harassed staff.

"Blew the gates right off, saw it myself. Those local boys didn't stand a chance.."

"I'm not saying I agree with it, ya know, but, like, the GA hasn't exactly done wonders for us has it?"

"So what? You think the Empire would pave the streets with electrum and stick a fat stack of creds in each of our hands!?"

Norongachi watched the two men argue their points back and forth, each ones hackles rising with every word spoken.

"And whats the Alliance done exactly? They couldn't even be bothered to post ACTUAL soldiers outside their own bloody base!"

"My cousin was one of those soldiers you Emperor lovin' piece of sh-" the bar stool caught the man in the back of the head and he went down before bodies melded into a fray.

"Thats more like it." Salem thought from a table by the far wall.

[Shayrina Tarthus]

The drop was quick and easy. The ships swooped in outside a nearby ghost hamlet about two miles from the city. The soldiers filed out quickly, unloaded their gear, unhooked their vehicles, and waved off their insertion team.

["Aurek is clear."] Their radios clicked, as their platoon leader waved the ships away casually. ["Thanks for the ride, as always."]

The hamlet consisted of a handful of small housing structures in a 'T' junction with a long, three story building at the dead-end crossing. The twelve soldiers Knelt in the center of the junction, beside a tank, and an armored speeder.

The three ships twisted around, and accelerated back up to the gray skies, and disappeared into the atmosphere. Their team leader tapped their CO's arm with his own elbow as he passed, indicating they were all ready to set up.

"Alright. Comms, find a place and get set up inside." The human Commanding Officer[co] pointed to the long three story building, and continued, "Intel- go ahead and set up a perimeter. Engineers, find somewhere to park our rides. Wep's take a lap. Medics with us, we're going to take a look into this building"- pointed to the square two-story on the corner. After addressing each group, the two people in each designation would nod curtly and jog off together.

Everyone liked their CO and Team leader. The CO was a brunette human, and their team leader was a dirty blonde. Both were well experienced, and probably only a handful of years apart. The other designated officers worked in two's. Two communications officers, two medical officers, two engineers, two intelligence officers, and two weapons officers. The redundancy is so the group can split into two groups if and when needed.

Shay gave a nod and and affirming 'Sir', and turned and nodded to the other comms officer- a quiet near-human with red hair. A Morellian, so he was about twice the age of anyone else here, but since he was still new to the Alliance Military- he wasn't in a commanding position. At least, not yet. Eestweld was his name, though they all called him 'Clench'. He still carried his Morellian enforcer-issues sidearm. It was a slugthrower- and a monster of a weapon. He and Sharyina got along pretty well- and had similar methods. Clench was a little more quiet, though.

Both neutral-color clad soldiers jogged to one of the entry doors to the long three-story building. It appeared to be an old apartment building, falling to neglect over the years due to abandonment. Most of the windows were shattered, some of the balconies were falling apart, and the doors were showing signs of rust.

Stepping off the dirt covered sidewalk, up a few stairs, Shay stopped at the door, and gave an affirming look to Clench. She opened the door quickly, and leveled her rifle casually as she entered the building. A long hallway with some doors on either side. They made their way to a stairwell that wound upwards, dodging and stepping over debris in the wells. Mattresses, broken chairs, small bent pieces of metal and scrap, rugs... all kinds of junk.

No one was there, but they needed to make sure the area was clear. Their swift clearing of the area lead them to the top of the apartment building- Shay lead with her pistol out front, and her rifle dangling from a sling at her side. They found one room had been partially blown out at the roof. They decided this was a motel of some sorts, as the room layouts were very simplistic. Large square with a restroom, one large window at the end of the room next to a door that lead to a very small balcony. The particular room they set up in had no exterior wall- it was just a hole that lead out to the balcony. A good a place as any to set up their comms equipment.

["Alright, the motel's clear. Clench and I found a good spot to set up shop. We'll be down to grab our gear and make ourselves a home up here."] She spoke into her helmet communicator to the team lead.

["Sounds good, Tee."] They called her 'T', for her last name, Tarthus.

Trudging down the stairs and to the outside, the two comms officers chatted briefly-
"So you think these Imperials are just local militia? Or maybe something more?" Clench asked, shoulder-to-shoulder with Shay.

"Probably just disgruntled locals." she shook her head, "The brief attack reports sounded a little more brash than what the imperial SF would have taught."

"Maybe that's what they want us to think." He smirked.

"Guess we'll have to wait for our friend on the inside to let us know."

"Oh yeah, GA's outsourced for intel this time." Clench stepped out into the street first, scurrying down the few stairs.

"Probably want as little ties to us as possible in there." Shay rolled her eyes as they headed toward the two vehicles with a handful of crates on the ground between them.

"Certainly doesn't look good. They were well armed, at least."

"For now-" Shay gave a mischievous smile as she reached down and pulled one of the durasteel-lined crates open. There were two communications nodes, a portable antenna, and a portable folding datanode. Most were packed and strapped up for carry already. Reaching in, Shay grabbed the back-pack sized comm node and slung it over her back with the straps wrapped around it. She then couched the antenna under one arm, and pointed to the rest of the gear for Clench, who casually nodded and grabbed the rest of the smaller stuff.

"Well, it must be a larger issue than it seems, otherwise COC wouldn't have put us here." Clench was right. He always was.

They walked back past the large Tank, and then toward the building's entry again. Through the dark, dirty hallways, over the scattered debris, and into the open door to their blown-open room. Shay dropped the comm gear in the center of the room at the foot of the bed-frame that lacked a mattress.

They began putting together components, and adjusting their positions, talking about the city. Kalidran. When complete, they stood up, and looked out where the window and the door would have been- and saw across the street the team leader, CO, and two medics standing atop the two-story building there. Clench waved, the CO chuckled silently and shook his head.

["Communications are set up. Clench is patching to the Resolute now."] Shay chatted over the radio.

["Outstanding, we'll start getting feeds from our inside man soon, then."] They saw their team leader's mouth moving in the distance across the road, but his voice was through their headsets.

["Who is it- by the way?"] Shay asked, half kidding. They saw the CO and Team leaders shoulders shake with laughter again,

["Third party. One of the best- but I don't know the name. COC wouldn't give it to me. When we report in, we'll get that info."] he nodded with a hand held up, pressing his helmet to his ear, trying to block wind noise from his comm.

"Always trying to be sneaky..." Clench rolled his eyes.

[Rhoden Carbine]

Rhoden whistled to himself as he set about working on a civilian speeder. The problem, as he had known early on, was relatively minor. Accessing and fixing the problem without tearing out more vital components had unfortunately not been as easy. "Whoever built this damned thing needs to be launched into a star." he grumbled. There was a snap and a thunk followed by a thin stream of smoke, "Uh, is that supposed to happen?" Jorvan's voice came from above. "Not really but the thing'll run now." the reply came.

Rhoden rolled out from underneath the speeder and headed in to the waiting area, "Your speeder's ready, Ms. Farsel." he said, "In the future make sure you get your speeder from a reliable source, or at least have it checked over. If you had a more serious issue I dunno if Id've been able to fix it." the woman smiled as she took the keys to her speeder, "Oh, yes, thank you Mr. Drael." she said. The rest of the room was empty and it was time for closing. Rhoden and Jorvan headed up to the living area above the small mechanics shop with the rest of the squad.

"Why'd we have to be mechanics, Rhoden." Delaine said, her voice fatigued. Rhoden shrugged and Jorvan snorted, "Because he likes being a mechanic." Rhoden glared at him, "Shut up."

The squad had come in over the course of a few weeks, and had been in the city for several weeks more. All except for Rhoden and Jorvan had come in separately, likewise coming in ways hard to trace but which were average enough not to raise suspicions. Their job had been to quietly observe the population for Imperial loyalties and act accordingly. The goal was not to cause any notable damage to the rebels but to ultimately turn the citizens against themselves and the rebellion.

Their efforts had bore fruit very recently, an attack--miserable though it may have been--had been carried out against the Galactic Alliance headquarters on the planet. The squad expected a response from the rebels fairly soon but that was of no consequence, they'd not been involved in the attack in any way. Even when they'd gone out and spoken their poisonous words into the ears of the citizenry they'd changed their already altered identities.

Rhoden looked over a datapad, "Alright, nothing new, off to sleep and then another day of some real work." there were various groans and Rhoden chuckled to himself. His squad loathed the simple, safe, and easy job of civilian work but tackled firefights with ease and faced the laser sword wielding lunatics as though they were eager. They were either very dedicated or very suicidal--though he supposed that from an outside perspective one could be fairly the same as the other. He drifted off to sleep before the snores of Jorvan became intolerable.

[Salem Norongachi]

What had been a minor difference of opinion via bludgeoning by bar stool had quickly swelled into a heaving mass of limbs and sound. Even those on the very edge of the crowd soon found themselves causalities of or drawn into, the melee. There were battle lines forming though, not noticeable at first in the mayhem but they became apparent as the brawl dragged on and then couldn't have been more apparent if they were wearing Alliance or Imperial uniforms.

The fighting had begun to slow, people disentangling from one another, dragged upright by their compatriots to stand bloody -shoulder to shoulder- facing the enemy. It was tribal, Salem thought, watching from the far fringes, and no side was without merit. From what he'd seen of the city, no one was keeping their head above water. Poverty was rife, jobs were scarce, and they needed someone to blame. In that kind of melting pot you had to expect cracks to form in the foundations of the community; One side blamed the status quo, the other thought the first were radicals that would see what little they had burn.

And in any tribe, leaders emerged, and he saw them. At the front, standing on the edge of the divide that separated Loyalist from Radical, leading the jeers and the insults, the challenges and the put downs. They would lead the charge over no mans land -less than three paces wide- and renew the fight. It was only a matter of when.

Norongachi drained his drink, rolled his tired shoulders, and rose to his feet. In his mind he'd already mapped out the bar, the conflict area, and where he wanted to be. Now it was time to get to work. The pulsing wall of flesh radiated adrenaline heat as he approached, none of them were looking behind them, they knew exactly where the enemy was and anyone who didn't want to get involved had made a break for the door. The empty glass in his hand flipped end over end in his hand, each time being caught casually. When he was at the very edge of the Radicals he judged the distance, measured his throw, and launched it into the crowd of loyalists. Just barely audible above the hoarse voices was the sound of shattering glass and then the scream that confirmed it had hit home. The armistice was over.

They rippled forward from either side, a stampede of sentients, that collided and crushed against those at the fore. Salem began his own advance, ripping Radical or Loyalist out of his way. Slipping under haphazard hay makers, and the flash of short -deadly- blades that found purchase in ribs and stomachs. He could practically taste the sweat and desperation as he fired his fists forward again and again, doubling over nameless adversaries and winced in pain as an elbow, or a boot, found him in the depths of pandemonium. Force senses were useless here, even with his skill the sheer amount of chaotic emotion and reckless aggression made it impossible to identify a single act that would endanger his person. So he rode the waves of instinct and let the basest primal part of his mind take the wheel of a machine with two decades of close quarters combat experience. Thumbs gouged eyes, his teeth ripped into cheeks, his forehead became a battering ram and his arms worked like pistons. Soon he was heaving, his lungs burning and desperate from reprieve, and his face a mask of blood, cuts and abrasions.

Thankfully the less stout of heart had broken off, dragged themselves and their fallen comrades away from the madness. The hardier fought on, in small groups of two or three. They hammered away with the determination of punch drunk, past their prime, fighters. There was no subtlety or technique, just flesh meeting bone in all its gore. So he fought his way through, looking for the faces he'd locked in his memory, by the time he spotted one his right hand had already gone numb but he couldn't have asked for a better set up.

The poor frak was cornered against the bar, three men much larger than he, advancing and no help to be found. Salem heaved a sigh, sucked in a single nourishing breath of air, and broke onto a reckless charge. His route took him along the edge of the bar and his hand snapped out and retrieved a pint glass, the distance closed and the three were already laying into his mark. One step, two steps, he lunched upwards -the tallest was a head higher than he- and holding the pint glass by its base drove it and his palm forward into the side of the mans face. The results were spectacular -if you were a psychopath- and the glass shattered as it met the hard bone of his foes cheek, splintering and shattering, driving into the soft flesh and taunt muscle, sending waterfalls of crimson down his hand as it drove the jagged base further into the wound and knocked the giant sideways with the momentum of the blow.

His mark saw the turn of the tide and reacted with all the makings of a professional brawler, his fist found a home in one mans gut, bringing his head down and then his hand entangled itself in the front of his shirt before the solid bone of his forehead flattened his nose and sent him reeling to the floor. Norongachi for his part found himself one handed, the double edge of glassing a guy in the face was that some of those razor sharp shards usually ended up in the delivering hand. Two of his fingers were limp, the tendons cut, but whatever the state of his own physical condition, this guys was far worse. He was shaking as his spent adrenaline wrought its toll upon his body, his swings sluggish and his footwork all but non-existent. Norongachi on the other hand was calm, marking his steps, and timing his snap jabs to stun his opponent at just the right moments. It seemed a forgone conclusion until he slipped in the viscera and then the big man had him in his grip. Arms forged through a lifetime of physical labor coiled around his ribs like living plasteel and squeezed.

Salem fought for air, his body squirming in the death-lock, his good hand curled into a first and hammered -side on- into the mans face. There was no room to swing, no space to use the ample strength of his muscles to break the vice that was slowly, deliberately, draining the life from him. They were about face to face, give or take an inch or two, his legs dangling helplessly in the air, and he made his decision. His mouth opened, the pearl of his teeth tinged red, and pulled the frakkers head forward, found his nose and bit down as hard as he could, not caring about the warm metallic gush that coursed over his tongue. He ground his teeth inwards, with as much strength as his jaw muscles would allow, until his enamel clicked together and his foe screamed. He could have been screaming for a long time, but there hadn't been anything outside of the task at hand, and Norongachi only registered the world when his feet hit the ground. He expelled the mangled flesh from his mouth and feeling the coils of rage still rampaging in his stomach drove his knee into the bent-double form and finally put him down.

Norongachi wasn't long behind him, his knees hit the deck almost as fast as his noseless chum, and he tried valiantly to draw breath into his lungs despite the protests of a few broken ribs. The hand that gripped his shoulder restarted the fire in his gut and he spun, fully ready to continue the fight, when he saw the bloody and beaten face of his mark. "Gotta move ya maniac, cops're on the way." Salem nodded, accepted the hand offered and both of them made good their escape into the streets.

[Shayrina Tarthus]

Her figure was small sitting next to what looked like a series of boxes, wires, and antennae- all strategically hidden from the planet's sunshine. The makeshift communication point made out of a blown-out hotel room served well as a decent overlook, too. Though it would be an obvious point- their marksman was certainly 'not' with them.

Sitting with gloved hands clasped, elbows draped over her knees as she crossed her ankles casually- Shay looked out into the arid landscape before her. Her teammate Clench speaking incomprehensibly behind her, talking to their command aboard the Resolute.

The line of decrepit stoney buildings faced each other out and beneath her, but over that, was a rather nice view. The land rolled with hills, sparse green vegetation broke up the sand and dusty rocks, even a mountain that slowly rose in the distance. Though nestled in the shadow of that mountain was a city- Kalidran City. They'd be going in there soon. Unknown if it was a few hours, tomorrow, or the next day. A slow anxiety boiled beneath some of the newer members of the team.

This hamlet would be a rather obvious place for a drop, but they were prepared. They had the armament to handle threats, the sensors and comm's equipment to see anything coming for them in day or night. They weren't exactly being sneaky- but their mission was not one of stealth. It was relief, and aide- but overall to root out that insurgency that cost good Alliance lives.

["This is Clench- COC's just waiting for your report, Commander."] her tell red haired buddy radioed everyone- though obviously more targeted toward their squad leader, Nik Astin to report in. Slightly down and to the left, they saw he and their other team leader- give anoutstretched 'thumbs up' from atop their building.

Wobbling forward and standing in a single motion, Shay piped up eagerly-
"I'm going to go see if Allani and Pace need anything." Allani and Pace were the Intelligence sergeants there. Allani was a blue-green twi'lek with striking eyes, and Pace was a human male, brown sleek hair- classically handsome.

"Sounds good, Tee. I'm just gonna clean up here and head down in a tic'." Clench smiled and nodded, then put his attention to their comm node they set up moments ago.

The white-hot sun began to sink over the horizon, creating a strange hazy blueish-pink in the sky, reflecting off the thin, sparse clouds.

Laying back in the long shadows of the large tank, feet propped up on some durasteel crates, the Engineering sergeants were relaxing a moment, both with their datapads up on their bellies, punching in coordinates, and getting plans put together. Both humans.

"Don't work too hard, guys." Shay rolled her eyes as she passed by, boots crunching in the sand and dirt that made up the street.

One made a rude gesture with a hand covered in a fingertip-less duty glove. The other shook his head and chuckled. In truth, the engineers were likely the hardest working, followed by the weapons guys- who were the grunts of the group. Those two- the weapons sergeants- were monsters in the field. Each of them specializing in a wide array of weapon systems. Each of them were currently setting up a perimeter with the Engineering guys' turret systems they set up already.- along with their sensory equipment- expertly hidden.

Crossing the street, she got to another open doorway and passed under, hollering into an empty lobby- "Allani, Pace-" Shay barked up toward the ceiling. She knew the two Intel sergeants were upstairs, preparing their stint in the city- tossing out fliers, handing out aide materials, shaking hands with the community leaders... "Comms are set up. Go get 'em." she smirked, and exited the small boxy two-story building. Back to the stone gray and white, dusty street..

It really was a boring next few hours, waiting for their team leads to come in, and everyone taking watch on their surroundings from the T-junction street's rooftops and upper levels- just to make sure no one came too close to investigate. Nothing but some local avian wildlife was seen soaring above- likely looking for a last meal before the sun snuffed out. Shay watched them, and smiled softly to herself. Oh how she wished she were flying right now, too...

Everyone's normal duties were broken by their Squad leader's voice breaking into their helmet comms.

["All right-"] he sounded joyful- ["Just got word from The Resolute. We're moving in tomorrow, but not hard. Intel is going to be working some basic psyops to try to handle the populace, and talk to the local LEO's (police). We roll in together, and break off into two teams to cover more ground. One's going to cart Intel around, and Two's going to handle something a little more high speed."]

Morale seemed to go from low, and droning- to excited and motivated. It seemed everything up until now was your typical 'hurry up and wait' situation.

[Rhoden Carbine]

There was a loud and absolutely horrid noise and Rhoden leapt out of bed ready to fight for his life. Only to see the other members of Inferno Squad laughing and pointing at him. His face reddened and he made an obscene gesture. "Who?" he asked. Pyrs struggled to stand at attention and remain impassive, failing miserably on both counts. "You will learn, soon, young one, the true meaning of revenge." he turned and began dressing as Pyrs looked around for support.

Once he was dressed he carefully applied the pieces to his disguise which would not fare well through the restlessness of sleep. Once he was ready he headed out--it was his off day--and headed to a tapcafe. As he approached several people ran out and he peeked in curiously, hearing the fight and screams within he backed out of the door slowly and headed to a lower-profile place.

"Ah, Mr. Drael, come for some quiet?" the barkeep said, "Something like that, damn fanatics are tearing up the Caf'ing." he shook his head. "Ah, I know what you mean, I just try to keep my head down." Rhoden smiled, "Best way to keep yourself in one piece, I'll take the usual." the man set about making his order while Rhoden looked around and gave a yawn.

"You here they brought in a group to deal with the Imps?" the man asked without looking at Rhoden, "No, but it doesn't surprise me none to much, can't just let 'em blow up their stuff." he shrugged as a plate and steaming cup were set in front of him, "Thanks."


He ate his food and left the tapcafe, he walked aimlessly around the city. He didn't have any particular business to take care of today so he was indulging his inner tourist. Which wasn't to say he didn't take note of any strategically relevant information, or that he wasn't observing the populace, and it certainly wasn't to say he was unarmed. Rhoden was never unarmed.

[Salem Norongachi]

What a sight they made. A bloody and beaten pair, running on exhausted legs up the main street. They kept that pace until the site of their crimes was ten minutes and a dozen twists and turns behind them before, thankfully, they pulled into an alleyway and caught their breath. Sal set his back against the damp brickwork and looked to his hand. He'd done a real number on it, he couldn't get so much as a twitch out of his middle and ring finger. It would take more than a field dressing to set them right but for now, a strip of fabric from his tattered shirt would have to do to bind them together and stem the blood.

"Got a name?" he asked as he set to the task. The man across from him was bald but younger than Norongachi by at least a decade he had fared worse in the fight, if his face was any indication. The man looked over at him, at the one hand winding dark fabric around the other, and then up at his face through an eye that was already beginning to swell shut.

"Tac."

"Just Tac?"

"Yup."

"Got someone who can look at this, Tac," he held up his hand, crimson already seeping through the fabric. "Or is some Rebel scumsucker gonna cost me a few fingers after the fact?"

Tac seemed to think about it, the flourishing purple on his face creasing as he turned the notion over. Then he grunted -decision made- and set off down the alley, away from the street they had entered from. Sal followed, the pace much more leisurely, and as they worked their way deeper into the back end of the city he saw the rapid decline of his surroundings. Boarded up windows, trash piled high in the doorways of vacant stores. Buildings half complete, the site shut down for the Force knew how long, their skeletal support beams open to the elements and rusting in the fading grey sunlight. How many worlds on the fringes of the Galaxy had suffered the death of hope? All those dreams of a better life crushed under the weight of an unpredictable and fickle universe...

His thoughts were so turned inward he almost collided with the back of Tac. The door he stood beside was solid but like any of the dozen they had passed had seen better days. As he took his boot to his base and rapped his toe against it paint flecks and rust rained onto the grime at its base like autumn leaves. Minutes slipped by and the throbbing in his fingers had grown annoying, like a secondary pulse in his hand that wouldn't give him a seconds peace.

"Open the kriffin' door! Its Tac!" his companion roared, his fist slamming against the door with every word.

"I hear ya, I hear ya!" a muffled voice replied and they heard the grinding screech as the door was dragged aside. The man that greeted them was armed, that was the only intimidating thing about him. He was short, more round than stocky, and had the dumb doleful eyes of a bantha chewing cud. He looked from Tac and then to Sal, then back at Tac, then his features took on something akin to pain that one could only assume was a thought forming before he spoke. "Who the frak is that?" the E-11 Rifle swung toward center mass as he asked the question and didn't waver, even as he looked to Tac for an answer.

"Marcus," Sal cut in, before Tac felt stupid for not asking before. "Mind training that rifle elsewhere, I just fought a war and pulled your buddy here out of the fire." he winced, gripped his injured fingers and with his thumb surreptitiously pressed down with all his might into the wound. It did the trick and blood flowed thick and fast, carving trails down his forearm and sending orbs of ruby onto his boots with the pitter patter of rain.

"Oh man, that was you at the Caf?"

"Yeah, moron, that was us. Get this guy inside before he's a corpse, would ya?" but their friendly doorman seemed mesmerized by the flow of blood, so much so Tac stepped up and smacked him on the side of the head. "Move, would ya!"

"What? Oh y-yeah..." with that he stepped aside they moved past him. The first smell that hit Norongachi was 'vacant', it was the muggy stagnant air of a place that hadn't had occupancy for a long time. It clung to his skin, invaded his nostrils and danced on his tongue. Behind that was decay, the sweet smell of rotting wood and moldering trash that lay here and there along the graffiti covered, bare bulbed, corridors that Tac followed with purpose. However long this insurgency had been in operation, these were new digs. Only barely fit for habitation.

The hallway emptied into a large room, a function hall of some kind, Salem thought. Although it had become a slapdash barracks and operations center. He saw folding cots against the walls, weapons crates, even a bank of holo-displays. As for the quality of this armed insurrection -and he had his doubts- their hardware was up to spec. How in a city where the average sentient lived hand to mouth could an oaf get his hands on a top of the line rifle? Let alone a whole arsenal of them?

"Thats some pretty fancy tech," he said loudly with a low whistle, his injured hand still cradled to his chest. Every man and woman that hadn't been paying attention to their arrival jumped to their feet at the unfamiliar voice and he found himself in the cross-hairs once again. He threw his hands up, splashing blood across the doormans face, "Wow, I-" then promptly face planted into the hardwood floor.

* * *

Time Since First Report: 15 hours.

Sal lay in the cot, his body dimmed to the point of unconsciousness. For some 3 hours he'd lain here, listening, letting otherworldly senses dance across the thoughts and feelings of those around him. Absorbing data, counting bodies and listening, always listening, while a Doc -obviously sympathetic to the cause- worked on his wounds. It took a force of will to stifle his cries, even more to keep his heartbeat in the steady rhythm of slumber as deft hands stitched and poked at his days labor. Tac had fought his corner, which he had expected; There are bonds formed in war, no matter the scale, especially when a life is saved. It feels owed then, a debt that stands defiant in the face of logic and good sense. The poor frakker never once doubted that Norongachi was firmly on their side of the fight. Still he wasn't stupid enough to believe they'd take his word alone, and so when the hands had begun rifling through his pockets he'd kept his corpse like vigil. They found his ID, which wasn't hidden, and the name read Marcus Galtex, and the file that came back on their high tech holo-displays showed him as a former Imperial grunt, undistinguished in any major engagements. Three years into service he'd sustained a nasty facial wound, that cost him an eye, and a speedy medical discharge. Mercenary and bounty hunter work followed, before he'd run afoul of the Alliance judicial system and spent Six years in prison.

The scars across Norongachi's face played into the half-truth and when the Doc examined his eye, he did indeed find a cybernetic implant there. Although its origins couldn't have been further from the fabrication in his file; He'd lost it on Hoth, in a disagreement with a certain Pirate Admiral over the minor issues of a dead friend and a destroyed planet. The countless others that marked his body like a road map of contempt for his mortal coil gave credence to his mercenary and bounty hunter work. Were they satisfied, were they sold? It was hard to read, but they could certainly see the merit in keeping someone with so much combat experience around.

He'd learned all he could passively, and probably actively, so when the Doc came to check up on him for the final time he opened his eyes and muttered "What..?"

"You collapsed. You were pretty beat up and bleeding like a stuck dhuna. I've done what I can but what you really need is bacta treatment, something we're pretty short on. I've reattached the tendons, extracted the glass shards and stitched you up. You wont have anywhere close to full dexterity or mobility, but you'll live to fight another day soldier." Sal nodded at the creased face looking down at him and briefly wondered what the Alliance had done that caused him to pick a side. He got himself upright after a brief battle with his aching muscles and joints and swung his boots down onto the floor.

"Thanks Doc, I owe ya." he replied, genuinely, and looked at the neat -if archaic- treatment of his hand. He looked up, then, and saw Tac scowling at him from the doorway.

"You got me into some real kack." the kid said, with a grunt.

"I win." Norongachi responded with a smirk, holding up the ragged line of stitches around the base of his bound and splinted fingers. "So, I guess I should ask who the gun-nuts are, right?" Tac didn't respond, he just motioned with his head and left the room. Sal eased himself vertical and took the hint, following him back out into the main hall.

"You hear about the attack on the Alliance base?"

"Yeah, some guys were talking about it in the starport cantina when I got here." Sal spoke, keeping pace but playing dumb.

"Well, meet the mastermind..." they were heading right for the broad back of a dark skinned human, the t-shirt he was wearing stretched to breaking point across muscles threatening to shred the fabric. At their approach he turned and Norongachi saw they were of the same age, although the man had a head completely devoid of hair. He broke into a pearly white smile when he saw them and his eyes shone with mirth and intelligence.

"Well well, if it ain't the cannibal!" he strode across the distance between them and Salem shot Tac a growl of displeasure, clearly the full details of his actions at the tapcafe had been told in exact detail, before he awkwardly gripped the mans outstretched hand with his off-hand. "Did us a service, pulling little Tac out of that mess. He's as reckless as they come but he's got passion that inspires the younger folks."

"Ain't so little.." Sal heard the younger man mutter.

"He held his own and I'll take any chance I can get to put those Rebel fraks in their place." he responded with a rueful smile. "So Tac here said you're the one giving the Alliance bigwigs stomach ulcers, huh?"

"Ha ha, I wish, Marcus. We're just simple sentients, fighting for a better future for our children." Sal wandered a few paces away toward onto the weapons crates and awkwardly extracted a T-21 light repeating blaster, he drew in a breath and let out an appreciative whistle as his eyebrows rose.

"You certainly have the weaponry to make that future a reality...do you know, I didn't catch your name."

"Just call me Wels, and you're right. We're well supplied, more than enough to see the proper order restored to Kalidran and then the rest of Trogan, the Emperor willing." he moved over to Salems side, and stood, appreciating the finish on the metal barrel of the deadly weapon.

"You couldn't have gotten this much on the blackmarket, I mean, no offense, but this city doesn't have two Imperial credits to rub together let alone enough for an arsenal like this." Norongachi sighed, he'd pushed too hard, too soon. Overplayed his hand and he could feel the man clamp up. "You shouldn't leave your weapons loaded, you know."

The world slowed to a crawl and the Force sung, it became a rhapsody under his command. It flooded his mind and his body with preternatural prowess enabling him to swing the heavy T-21 upward. It caught Wels on the chin with a crack of metal meeting bone and as the man began to fall he caught him on his shoulder before turning the weapon on the room. It spewed death. A fantastical scythe that strobbed half-light with lances of laser fire. The mercurial figures were easier to hit than paper targets, his mind awash with the power and splendor of the infinite, enhancing every synapse, every neuron super charged as they transmitted his will to muscles infused with otherworldly speed and strength. Enough to sweep the weapon one handed from target to target, enough to keep Wels on his shoulder and his feet moving like he were light as a feather as the sluggish and panicked return fire started. By then there were so few of them left that he only needed to step aside and drill a hole through the chest of the trigger-man.

Bodies littered the floor and by luck or skill, the only person moving was Tac. Amidst the devastation he scabbed, trying desperately to understand, to get away from something his young mind wasn't ready to accept. Until there was no where to go. In his panic, in his desire to escape, he found himself in a corner with only the cooling corpse of the Doc for company and the approaching footfalls of the man who hours ago, had saved his life.

"You were just on the wrong side, kid." Salem spoke to the questioning terror in his blue eyes, before the repeater said its piece.

He drew a breath, felt his legs quiver before he regained control, and gave one last look at the days work. Thoughts threatened to rise then, before -thankfully- they were silenced by the chime of his micro-computer. He dropped the T-21 with a clatter, and drew it from his inside pocket. Set his thumb to the screen, spoke his clearance code, and licked the left hand side of the device. What had been a simple interface for sending and receiving standard holo-net messages flickered away, replaced by the Division 31 heading and a single screen.

'Resolute in orbit. Ground crew dispatched.' It then listed the frequencies they would be using and the encryption algorithms to broadcast on them before the screen froze, went black and restarted back to the standard operating system.

He slipped Wels, still unconscious, onto a cot near Tac and the Doc then cast his eyes around the graveyard of his own making. The next task wouldn't be as pleasant, for him or his prisoner. It was better for them both of he didn't struggle. Thankfully, some of the crates had been lashed together with ties to stop them moving in transit and so, with those in hand he pinned Wels to the cot chest, arm, thigh and feet. He sat on the edge of the cot, then, and braced himself for what was to come. Steeling his soul and his mind against the mere notion of what he'd have to endure in the next few moments.

His hand rose and fell, slapping hard against the dark skin of Wels face. Again, and again, until the mans eyes flickered with consciousness, looked around with confusion, tried to move and with panic came realization. He screamed curses into Norongachis face, let his rage take him so that his voice filled the silence of their tomb. Salem waited, let him exhaust himself and when his words gave way to silence and murderous rage he spoke, with as much sincerity as he could.

"Don't try to resist." then his hand was upon the mans bald head, the fingers finding purchase with a steel grip and thats when Salem touched upon the Force. The death around them melted away, replaced by an oceanic starscape, billions of lights making up a tapestry of brilliance that spanned a Galaxy and beyond. He looked to Wels, and saw him, shining and radiant, he could see his mind. A shimmering field of light, like a micro-scale model of the Galaxy as he saw it in the waters of the Force. He found his thread, the tethering of his life-force -his being- to the greater web and cast himself into it. He invaded its stream as a slicer would, disguising himself as part of the data-flow, networked his way into the mans mind and then...met the firewall. It rebuffed him but didn't cast him out, his will was too great for that, and in the physical Salem Norongachi grimaced at what was to come.

The fingers upon the mans flesh spawned eldritch apparitions, gnarled spikes of dark energy that pierced the flesh and drove through the bone. They took root in the grey and then they began to drill, churning through the mans mental defenses, ripping and shattering sanity, logic and sentience asunder in their desire for what lay beyond. Wels screamed at first, a high pitched terror that haunted the dreams of children everywhere, and then he grew quiet, his eyes unfocused and his body began to twitch. The drills took root and began to spread like an infection, the main body splitting and splitting again until Norongachi's influence was burrowing into the darkest parts of his mind. What they sought were the memory centers, and they found them easily, billions of roots found a target and then drained them dry, leaving only barren devastation behind while sending the fruits of their labor back up the connection to Salem.

Norongachi could only brace as the flashes of raped memory surged into his own; a face, a feeling, a love, a loss. It was all there, there was no pick and choose. You took the sentient, for better or worse, and with it the information you wanted. He sagged, gasped for air, momentary confusion flooding his mind as he tried to assimilate the life and times of Wels Dawson into reality. Then he looked down at the foam slipping down the mans cheek, the unblinking dead eyes fixed upon nothing at all. He shook his head while his brain reorganized the sudden influx of information, and stood, stooped down and picked up the T-21 before putting a bolt in the living corpse and dropping it again.

The micro-computer was in his hand again and he tapped into the encrypted Alliance channel.

'Have confirmed Imperial support.' the text only message fired out toward the Alliance ground crew, and Norongachi -duty done- went outside.

[Shayrina Tarthus]

Shay packed herself into the belly of the repulsorlifted, armored speeder. The shing looked like a beefy skiff with two guns atop it's back. It fit a full squad, so now it was pretty roomy for the five of the soldiers stuffed inside.

The other five of the full team were going to the other side of the city in the full sized tank. They'd be dishing out fliers that mentioned something about telling the local authorities if they see or hear of any suspicious imperial activity. They would also be doing local outreach things, talking, and meeting with the local law enforcement. Mostly it was to gauge the locals in how they felt- or how it seemed they felt about the GA, and the increase in insurgent attacks on the GA.

The team Shay was in was to go to the GA embassy there in the city- and check things out with the local militia. So for now she'd sit for the short while it would take to get to the borders of Kalidran City. The ride was smooth, as normal with repulsorlift hovering craft. She sat quietly, helmet in her lap. Rifle leaned against her leg, butt against the floor. Her hands began to absent-mindedly brush some of the dust and sand from it's creases that had collected over the previous night. The voices of her CO, Krissh, and driver- Engineering sergeant 'Teck' were heard bouncing around from the front of the craft.

To her right a few seats away was their Intelligence sergeant- the classically handsome male, Pace, was catching a few extra minutes of sleep. To which just beside him, their female Zabrak medical officer was waving for Shay's attention- pointing to the guy who kept nodding off, trying not to laugh. Their weapons sergeant then clambered down from the front turret ladder, to see what the Zabrak began chuckling at audibly- having woken up their Intel sergeant in a fuss.

Shay shook her head, and smiled at the group. She looked to their weapons guy who was hanging in the turret-

"How's the weather up there, Matric?" she turned her body slightly to be able to see him better in their slightly cramped quarters.

"Sunny- with a chance of blastin' imperials."

Shay rolled her eyes. "You know why everyone thinks weapons specialists are dumb, right?" she snorted.

"You really think they're imperials?" the medic asked from aside- sidetracking that comment.

"''Course" the man replied, climbing casually back up to the turret. "No one else'd be that gutsy. Plus- who else is arming these folks? Hutts won't come this close to the core- even if it 'is' the outer rim."

"Not like these guys have any love for the Alliance, though." the imperial officer huffed, trying to straighten himself, and blinking the sleep away.

"Yeah." Shay started, and the Medic nodded along- "This point it's still hard to say. Can't say i'll be surprised if it isn't though." she shook her head, and finished a final swipe on her helmet- mostly sand-free now.

"Imperials?" the medic asked

"Yeah, I mean I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't just disgruntled citizens." she made a sour face.

"Yeah this place is kind of ..." The medic paused to think of a word, before she spouted a curse implying it was a refuse hole. Her accent was a strange one, but she spoke perfect common. Her voice was rather pleasant.

The weapons sergeant could be heard chuckling from his gunner seat- echoing slightly. The intel sergeant and Shay just rolled their eyes and shifted their seating.

"Easy there, Keyani-" Shay warned,
"Yeah and I bet you'll wonder why they don't like you. This is their home, and the Alliance kinda..... forgets about colonies like this." The intel sergeant continued Shay's sentiment.

"Oh, I'm only playing." Keyani gave a wry smirk- her tanned skin and dark facial markings accenting her bright blue eyes. They seemed to shine from beneath the shadow of her helmet. That was another thing- Shay wondered if the inside of her helmet looked differently- since Keyani was zabrak, she had a crown of short horns adorning her head. She then got distracted with other thoughts before they heard Krissh's friendly voice chime from up front-

"Alright- almost there. Going to meet with their Militia, and take a look at the attack site. See how their sweeps are going. I don't imagine the populace is charmed with us being here, so don't wander off."

Though none of them but the driver, gunner, and CO could see anything outside- the belly of the craft was devoid of windows. A safety feature.

[Rhoden Carbine]

Rhoden heard the news over his commlink as it was getting dark. He rushed back to the shop and into the private residence above it. He threw open the door and slammed it behind him. "What the hell happened?" he asked. The rest of the squad looked angry, some subdued. Jorvan looked up.

"Unknown assailant, reports are fairly foggy right now, but one of the loyalists took him to a hideout... they're the ones who hit the Alliance a few days ago, we think." he said, "They had a stash of weapons too, according to the man we've been talking to--he's been reported dead." Rhoden slammed his fist down on a table and there was a loud crunch as a leg gave way. He glared up at the squad, "We're revising the work schedule, put the crew tomorrow on for double shift--the rest of us are going out to figure out what happened to those kriffing fools."

He paused, "Where'd the weapons come from?" he asked, "I dunno, as far as I know we're the highest security clearance on site so we should know about something like that... but from what we could glean the Alliance thanks it was us." Rhoden frowned, "I don't think we're being kept in the dark--we're too insufferable to risk annoying. We'll need to find out where those weapons came from." he said.

Pyrs raised a hand, "Uh, boss, what do we do once we figure out what happened?" he asked, "First we kill everyone involved in that slaughter, second we find out who's playing both sides against each other and we blow them up." Pyrs nodded, "Right, boss. Got it, boss." Rhoden rolled his eyes.

He sat down and peeled off parts of his disguise and rolled over in his bed, "For now, though. Sleep. Lots of sleep."