Where Good Dreams Go Bad (BSP)

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Where Good Dreams Go Bad (BSP)

Post by Master Buggie » Sun Dec 31, 2017 5:46 pm

***Expansion Region, J-15***
***Thand Sector, Kafrene Asteroid Belt***
***Ring of Kafrene***


It was a time of empires, but not the one most knew to associate with the word. This was a time of rising and falling syndicates, each clawing and scraping for the greatest share of power within the galaxy. Gangs of raiders, families, cartels, all were waiting for the proper moment to stick the proverbial vibroblade between the ribs of their enemies and, if it was necessary, their allies. Three kings had once been untouchable; the illusive Kabal, leader of Black Sun, the Grand Mogul of the Hutt Cartel, and the man, a saint to some and a demon to others, who many addressed simply as "the Captain," Jay Mertaal.

There had been a transparisteel ceiling to how high other cartels and syndicates could rise with the Black Sun, Hutt Cartel, and Blue Star Pirates crowding the underworld, permeating nearly every sector with their influence. One poor decision; a twist of fate, really, opened the floodgates and allowed the rest to come pouring through only a matter of months ago. A galactic conflict created strange bedfellows, and Black Sun was in bed with the Galactic Empire. The rise of the Sith, carving their territory into the Empire's flanks, threatened the investment that the Black Sun had made. The Blue Star Pirates, against all expectations, throwing in with the Galactic Alliance and taking Coruscant from the Empire's clutches, brought everything crashing down upon Black Sun like the peaked towers of the Imperial Palace crashing down upon the former capital world of the Galactic Empire.

It was a new galaxy, ripe for the taking, and this struggle wouldn't be seen on the strategic worlds of the Core or the battleground systems of the Perlemian. It would be fought in the grime-covered back allies of the galaxy...

The Ring of Kafrene was a former mining colony, long since rendered obsolete by the much more lucrative illegal cargo that passed through the outpost. Desperate travelers seeking sanctuary from the Core and those looking to escape from their past plodded down the shoulder-to-shoulder throughways of the Ring. The outpost was a dead-end for many of these sentients, a forgotten trading post in an uninhabited corner of the galaxy. Forgotten by those that did not seek what could be found beyond the prefabricated shacks and through the clouds of ammonia that rose from the non-Human housing complexes. That characteristic alone made the Ring beneficial for many; particularly those that handled the valuable and, more often than not, illegal goods that passed through the port.

A group of five men walked down one of the Ring's crowded throughways. There, sentients of all types bumped against one another-- all but the five men. They had earned the respect and fear of the Ring's unfortunate inhabitants, at least in this sector of the outpost. These men trailed another group; a rival group of criminals who had begun to interfere with their operations in the outpost. The Ring was a labyrinth of corridors, shanties, and prefabricated structures. To those that were not intimate with this sector of the outpost, losing one's bearings was almost inevitable.

Yes, one wrong turn, and the rival party found themselves at at dead-end. The five men trailing them immediately spread out, their vibroblades brandished, each wicked edge catching a glint of neon light from the walls that hemmed in their prey. With a gesture from the leader, the massacre began. Within moments, only one of the rival group remained, his hands raised in a plead of mercy.

"What do you want?" the sentient begged, the blood of his companions running down his blue coveralls.

The leader, a member of the Red Key Raiders, leveled his blaster, squeezed the trigger, and replied, "...To send a message."

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Re: Where Good Dreams Go Bad (BSP)

Post by Master Buggie » Sun Dec 31, 2017 5:48 pm

Original Post by Salem Norongachi...

The shack stank. A dilapidated add on to the adjacent cantina. Thats what most of Kafrene was- crap build onto crap, that somehow managed to be more crap than the crap it was attached to. A sprawling web of poor workmanship held together by hope, prayer and a liberal application of duct-tape. The rusted metal of the walls lay unadorned, shuddering as a transport or a ship thundered past with its cargo. A crude table lay at its center, a ceiling light swaying gently, its ancient bulb bare, and around it sat three men. Each holding a hand of cards, staring at them lazily, none of them really playing for keeps, only passing the time.

"Yeah I fold.."

"You are so full of tells its unbelievable, Walis." the speaker cocked a smirk that wobbled his meaty jowls as he set his cards onto the table. He barked a laugh, clearly assured of his win, and made to sweep up the credit chits.

"And you aren't N'kal?" the other player responded wearily, slapping his own cards onto the pot before his opponents chubby fingers could claim his prize. N'kal's face went through the colour chart of red before it settled on blood vessel bursting scarlet.

"You cheated, you huttslime!!" N'kal roared standing suddenly, his expansive girth catching the edge of the table and tipping it over, sending its contents spilling across the floor.

"Those are some hefty accusations from a hefty guy, bud." the accused stood up as well, calmer than N'kal but with no less gravitas. They looked at each other for a heart beat or three and then the fat one went for his hip holster, he had his blaster half out when he felt the unmistakable cold of metal against his skull.

"Nik..." Walis said, half warning, half soothing. "Lets not get carried away here..."

"I'm not and I did cheat. I'm a Pirate. Its what we do, and if this sniveling wretch hasn't figured that out yet then he's in the wrong game." with a flourish he returned his blaster to his holster and reached into his pocket for his cigarettes.

"The b-" N'kal was so filled with mixed emotion that the words struggled to form. "The boss is gonna hear about this!" he snarled finally, his dark brows flashing down.

"'The boss, the boss'" Nik lit up his smoke, let the poison mist waft from his nostrils and then fixed his comrade with a rueful smile. "He's the biggest crook around, haven't you worked that out yet?" a wave of of grey filled the space around him and he lazily jerked a finger to the table. "Clean that up will you, the new guys should be back from that collection run. Lets pretend we know what we're doing, yeah?" Walis and N'kal, under muttering protest, did as they were asked. It was only when the last chair rocked onto its legs that the door burst open.

* * *
The Hand of Fate
Thand Sector
Dark Space


The ship hung lifeless, over a mile of dark paint, punctuated by only the briefest of deck lighting. Its wide bow tapering to the classic point of its class, a shape that had struck fear into the democracy loving for over twenty years. Its corridors were dark, its mess halls and crew quarters silent, it was for all intents and purpose a ghost ship, or would have been if it weren't for the single life form residing aboard the modified bridge. He sat hunched over his data-screen in his quarters off the bridge proper, his eyes flicking left and right as the Galactic Stock Exchange spewed out its highs and lows.

"Sir, message from Kefrene. Its Nik." the female voice came through the rooms coms-speaker.

"Put it through," he responded without concern, his eyes still absorbing the information before him and a Corellian whiskey swirling in a glass in his left hand.

"They hit us again, Boss, they took out three of our guys and got half the east-sides take. I think we need you on the ground, mate." the com fell silent, only the sound of ice hitting glass breaking the silence as Salem Norongachi upended it into his mouth.

"I'll be right down."

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Re: Where Good Dreams Go Bad (BSP)

Post by Master Buggie » Sun Dec 31, 2017 5:48 pm

Original Post by Jay Mertaal...

The punch was like inhaling a large dose of powdered Oortolan Mustard. Jay coughed blood, but swallowed down his instinct to spit. His feet struck each step of the metal gangway as he was dragged up to the factory over-level, or so he presumed. The musty bag over his head was hampering his perception just a bit.
His charming escorts opened a door... using his face... and hurled him to the ground.
He knelt there for a moment or two before the bag was removed, and he looked up at the face of Lorgan Movellan.

"Frak boy" Jay grinned, blue crystalline tooth flashing through the blood dangerously, "The weight suits you, but even for a Weequay age hasn't been kind"

For the length of a few heartbeats there was a beautiful confusion on the crime boss' close to expressionless face. Then fear and surprise blossomed across it like a cold orbital sunrise.

"You idiots!" Lorgan shouted at his men. "Don't you know who this is?!"

The blur of violence was so swift and smooth as to be almost poetic. Well practiced footwork put Jay in reach of the first guard's blaster. The binders were no hamper to him at all as he shot the guard, positioning his body between him and the second. By the time the second guard fell, dead, Jay and Lorgan were facing off.

"Sorry" Jay said. "He hit me a bit hard that one. I couldn't really let it pass... I'm sure you understand".

Lorgan growled low in his throat, flicking the safety on his blaster and slipping it back in to the chest holster he wore under his copious suit.

"I suppose I should have agreed to see you on your terms" he conceded. Jay returned the favour, and ceased his aim, taking a seat across from the Weequay's desk.

"Yes, you really should have" Jay said, finally spitting the gobbet of blood which had been building up in his mouth. As it slapped wetly against the polished durasteel floor Lorgan sat too. Mertaal was smiling disconcertingly.

"My... associates would not have approved. They watch me of course..."

"No doubt" Jay said, the levity falling like a stone from his voice. "But you backed the wrong side I think. Don't you?"

"Perhaps" Logan replied with a grimace. "But I made my choice. I'm not going to turn on a decacred just because you come in here and wave a blaster in my face".

"Oh I know that" Jay said, hefting his blaster, but not quite pointing it at the Weequay again. "And that's why I didn't come in here to threaten you. Stop moving your right arm towards the shield generator activation button under the arm of your chair" the pirate said sweetly.

Lorgan froze, fury mixed with a trepidation which was wholly unlike him behind his impassive eyes.

"See, unlike Black Sun, I've always felt as though the best way to find an accord is simply to make a better offer. In this case... a much better offer".

The Weequay stared at Mertaal, resentment beginning to give way to interest.

"Here's what I want you to do..."

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Re: Where Good Dreams Go Bad (BSP)

Post by Master Buggie » Sun Dec 31, 2017 5:52 pm

Original Post by Xerxes Nova...

Xerxes sat back in his pilot's chair, looking up and out of the cockpit at the vista of pinpoint lights that was the void of space. He was on his personal ship, 'The Rust Bucket' a ship that looked like nothing more than a pre-clone wars junker, barely operational but, that within he, Scrap and Tex had stripped back to the bare bones and rebuilt on more than one occasion. He loved the ship, it was as much a part of him as anything could be without being physically grafted to his flesh. He had just left a small way station where some of the Aurek fleet had docked for repairs. As a floating mechanic he was sent wherever needed but, he spent most of his time within the Aurek fleet, much to his dismay. He had shown too much instability and unreliability early on in his time with the BSP and that had been with the Aurek fleet. In that time he had shown this side of himself more than once to its Admiral and had been little more than a tolerated nuisance ever since. Admiral Brakken cared not for all he had done since, as he hadn't yet managed to redeem himself for those earlier mistakes. As it was he always found his work on the Aurek fleet tiring as he strove to rectify the opinion of the Admiral in some way so as to remove the constant observation he was placed under whenever he worked on the ships under his command. Now he had some free time before his next assignment.

The Luma Flare - Aurek Fleet

Admiral Brakken looked down at the information on the desk before him. He tried to affect a look unconcern but, for Captain Sash, who had been with the Admiral as his second ever since the Gradan affair, it was easy to pick out the worry. For Commander Kunnandi however, it was disquieting to see such a lack in her superior. The auburn furred wookiee was the head technician on The Luma Flare and had recently been tangentially the head of the Aurek fleets maintenance. A position her rank as mere Commander belied but, one she had taken on with what she thought was full appreciation of the details. However, she had sent some techs to Kafrene as part of a routine trip and she had lost contact with them two days prior. The silence was not normal and the technician should have already been on his return to the fleet. As such after exhausting her own contacts in the region she had brought her concerns to Sash who after another day and being unable to contact her own people in the region had brought the concern and Kunnandi to Brakken. Sash a, a female Mon Calamari, had proven to be indispensible during the Gradan affair her calm, collected calculations had tempered the heat of Brakken's usual approach and the pair had been working well ever since. Though only one of several captains under the Admiral's command he trusted none of the others as he did Sash and her knowledge of naval tactics had yet to lead her ships astray. With so many under his command Admiral Brakken had come to rely on his second to prioritising matters, which was why this concerned him so much.

"Are you sure about this" Brakken broke his silence after marshalling his voice. The gruff tones made it sound like he was doubting his team but, in truth he was debating with himself what to do next. If Sash was bringing it to his attention, what looked like a minor case of crewmen going AWOL and likely enjoying some impromptu shore leave, was now looking more like start of something far more serious. He knew they had competing interests in the area and he had to wonder what Sash was reading into this silence. Though he had to admit at some sense of disquiet from the Thand sector himself. Nothing actionable but, scraps of reports were starting to become hard to ignore.

"Of course I'm..." Kunnandi angrily burst out only to be silenced as Sash raised her, the wookiee's outrage at the action was quickly soothed as Sash turned to the Admiral and gave him a cold gaze. With both her large eyes focusing on a single person one generally couldn't help but feel like an insect about to be squashed yet, Brakken met her gaze with his own and listened as she sternly interjected.

"Sir, don't insult us. We wouldn't have come to you if we weren't certain." The whippid nodded, his usual fierceness not present in the limited company and sighed as he picked up the report, allowing his concern to finally show to the newest member of his inner circle. Kunnandi couldn't hide the shock at the relaxing of the man's facade, this was not something she had ever seen and she found it disconcerting for the stoic and hard edged Admiral to show any weakness. Brakken raised his snow white furred head and looked at the two, first meeting Sash's gaze once more then turning to Kunnandi and for the first time Kunnandi had a sense of the weight on this man's shoulders and wondered just what it took to get to his position. When he spoke it was in his usual gruff tones and the illusion of weight was lost as the Admiral she had served once again showed the strength needed to bear the responsibilities of command "So, let's discuss what we do next, given our current resources."

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Re: Where Good Dreams Go Bad (BSP)

Post by Master Buggie » Sun Dec 31, 2017 5:53 pm

Original Post by Doctor Krussk...

The recntly promoted Feared Captain Krussk had recntly witnessed his first BSP council meeting. The hot topic of the meeting was expansion. The ring of Kafrene was a hotbed of instability. The Red Key Raiders, the new underbelly rulers of the ring of Kafrene were beginning to exponentially grow in power as the black suns fall apart. Internal strife coupled with BSP insurgents launching surprise attacks has led to the people of the ring becoming increasingly dissatisfied with their criminal underbelly. With strife on all sides and no corner for the sun's or raiders to even back themselves into, the BSP high command has decided a full scale assault and takeover of the ring would be profitable now.

​After a quick recruitment run Krussk was now leading his crew towards the ring along with his guests Arruna, Jak, and Tryn. The gunboat Phantom Limb was their conveyance, a ship bequeathed to Krussk from the BSP for his service. The ship was one of the most damaging vessels the BSP owned, a tue powerhouse in any engagement. Though an actual space battle was relatively unlikely if the initial incursion went well, the sheer showing of force was important. The ship was also loaded with marauders under Krussk's general command. The BSP were holding nothing back on this conquest, it was a huge gamble for the organization, but the rewards were too much to pass on.

As the ship progressed, Krussk decided it was best to instruct his squads. While Krussk himself would lead his alpha squad, consisting of himself along with a chosen three veteral white blades. Beta squad would be led by Captain Morrison, a very competent S'kytri sniper, able to hit a target half a mile away while flying, and would contain along with eight other troops, Jak and Tryn, as they could supplement one another's skills. This leaves Captain Smith, a masterful Toydarian tactician and all-round amazing leader bringing nine troops and Arruna in the aforementioned cookie squad. Though much of the BSP leadership had a bit of mistrust towards Arruna due to her previous allegiance, Krussk was still entirely confident in her, though this might just be because she was blue and he wanted her to be the best mascot she could be. Zannah also told him she was genuine in her intentions to fix herself, and of course an ancient Sith lord would be trustworthy. For just a second Krussk considered implanting an explosive in her neck, but then he remembered when Doren basically did that to him and how bad it made him feel. No, Arruna would be trusted, as would Zannah. Mistrust is the beginning of all forms of chaos. That said, putting he with a force resistant leader was safe for everyone.

"Alright everyone. When we reach the ring, things will get crazy fast. You all need to understand that more lives than your own depend on your skills. We are going in with three commanders, myself included, three skilled recruits, and marauders. Our mission is to hit three different Red Key Raider facilities at the same time. For this mission I will take on a small facility in a highrise building along with three chosen blades, all skilled in combat inside buildings. Beta squad, led by Morrison, also including Jak and Tryn along with eight others, will be taking on a facility located in an urban district with long sightlines and massive skyboxes, as to benefit Morrison himself. Finally squad cookie will be led by Smith, and in addition to nine remaining troops, will include our resident reformed Sith Arruna. Due to her excellent combative skills she must have learned in her time as a member of the Paraexium, in addition to Smith's excellent leadership skills, squad cookie will be taking on a fairly large troop outfitting facility in the sewer systems. Expect heavy resistance that is also heavily armed. Are there any questions as to our orders or assignments?".

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Re: Where Good Dreams Go Bad (BSP)

Post by Master Buggie » Sun Dec 31, 2017 5:55 pm

Original Post by Arruna Lom...

It was no secret to Arruna that so many were leery about her. It was infuriating, but she couldn't blame them. She had been a Sith, and Sith aren't known to be necessarily trustworthy. But at the same time, it seemed to her it didn't seem to matter where or what path she was on in her life. No one never fully trusted her. Heavens above, even the Sith when she had fully dedicated herself to their teachings never trusted her. That was why she had been denied a promotion by the Dark Council, or at least part of it.

Even her own sister didn't trust Arruna. Truthfully it seemed the only ones who ever trusted her had been Lord Tormentous and Iella, ironically enough, both part of the Sith Empire. And how did she return the favor? By deserting them, both.

She would be lying if she said that didn't bother her. After all he had taught her so much, and Iella was always supportive. But she just couldn't keep living her life that way-hurting innocents in the pursuit of personal power and being part of something that encouraged slavery. She sincerely wanted redemption, and part of her was wondering if it would ever happen.

Would anyone ever trust her, again?

When she heard her orders from the kindly Dr. Krussk, a huge lump grew in her throat out of uneasiness. Arruna wasn't sure if she was ready for combat, again. The last time she was thrust into it, she lost herself. That was exactly why she had asked for a temporary reassignment on a science team-to avoid combat until Arruna got a handle on her outbursts when using the darkside as a tool and to reach a balance. But alas, apparently her superiors had other plans right now.

She gulped deeply as Dr. Krussk praised her combat skills, which truthfully in her mind were actually extremely lacking. She had been trained as an assassin, spy, and in the art of espionage and stealth not as a warrior and soldier. Not like Kroxata or Slade had been trained. Honestly, Arruna wouldn't have a chance in her mind if she was forced to face either of them.

But alas, Dr. Krussk and Captain Smith were her superiors, so she could not question their orders. All she could do was pray and hope that her lacking skills would be enough to survive.

Gods help her as she nodded in acknowledgement to her orders, but said nothing. Though her facial expressions were most definitely enough to say she wasn't comfortable with this assignment in the least.

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Re: Where Good Dreams Go Bad (BSP)

Post by Master Buggie » Sun Dec 31, 2017 6:22 pm

Original Post by Jak Bexel...

"Yes - just one question," came a voice from the front of the crowd. "How fast do you expect all of us to die?"

The silence was a vacuum in the room as First Mate Bexel, hand held up and standing next to Tryn, held this question with sincere interest. Captain Smith's brow furrowed deep and his fat sunken eyes burned holes into Jak's skull. His wing flutter had a slight murmur to the rhythm. Who was this First Mate to come to the fore so strongly against this plan?

"The plan you are asking us to follow would have the Red Key Raiders owning this ship, our herdship, the keys to Ryustlore, Buggie's head, and the bowels of Coruscant within a standard week. I'm sorry Doc. With all due respect, you folks worked hard to accumulate an army without fully understanding your adversary."

"Firstmate Bexel," barked Captain Smith, his small but fiercely strong hands bending what looked like a rakish ceremonial baton he often used for pointing and yelling and waving about. Serious Captain stuff. "Are you stoned?"

"Far from it sir, haven't smoked in a week leading up to this and SWEET SHEEV did it help me just now. I'm not even paranoid --"

"GET TO THE POINT!" he hollered, rough and guttural.

25 years prior...

Jak was a young boy accompanied by his sister and father on the streets of Kafrene. Business beckoned for the Bexels, and his purpose was purely decorative. Father Nero was meeting with refugees from Alderaan and liberated Ithorians. Freshly demolished amidst the perpetual galactic conflict, Nero saw opportunity within the shards of Alderaan, since the war was winding down. As such, the hotel magnate inked a deal to manufacture Ithorian Herdships with Alderaan deco, in exchange for the design specs that would allow him to use said ships for outer space hospitality while housing refugees and dissidents. These ships would be backwards engineered with Corellian design fluorishes to become luxury yachts that had a living biosphere in the center. The Alderaanians, or what was left, would have a significant business interest as would the Ithorians, and the Bexels would match the united investment. This would be a trifecta of united, agreed-upon cultural appropriation. With the marriage of a former Alderaanian princess and a Corellian scoundrel making Holonet waves, Nero had a sure bet.

Alas, the deal did not work out at that time. Somewhere in the vast maze, his son Jak became lost as they hurried to the meeting. Nero was frazzled and sweating, short one ornamental child for the meeting which could not be rescheduled. His usual silky smooth composure gave out versus the knowledge that his son was probably selling deathsticks on a corner. The 12 year old boy was distracted by a pop-up storefront featuring custom suiting. It was the burst of far-off colors and manner of class amidst the dirt that took his focus, and when his sister Masha saw him wander off she ignored him. This was nothing new. When a frantic Nero came across the boy, hours later, he was equal parts flummoxed and relieved at the boy's high spirits. According to stories, he had lost his way in the village and came upon a Muun tailor. For the majority of his excursion, Jak sat in a shoppe being regaled with the importance of a well-cut suit and the history of Kafrene.

"Dad?"

"Yes, son."

"We need to come back here."

And they did. And in the years he was flying of his own accord, he would occasionally meet with his Muun friend, Oran Cedris.

… back to present day.

Jak was standing inside of a Gunboat filled with angry pirates, and his standing of First Mate was in serious question by a Toydarian with no time to trifle. Still, he pressed on. From the breast pocket of his leather jacket, he produced a tiny holoproj of the geography of Kafrene. Gesturing to the fellow pirates in front of him and ringing his collar at Tryn, the Corellian took the center of the room and activated the projector. Blue light emanated from the revolving map.

"The power structure of Kafrene is not predicated by the buildings, but by the ground. It is an inverted hierarchy. Control the market, control the Ring. The ground floor - where they market - is where all the business happens. It's a makeshift community, and every day the format of the market changes to suit the needs of whomever is in power. Literally."

As he gestured with two fingers at the top-down view of Kafrene's streets, the shapes of the projection shifted to connote what Jak was explaining. He walked around the map, his pointing hand shifting between the projection and running over his fresh buzz cut.

"The value in this is what others see as slums, the insiders see as a means of confusing the enemy. How do you think our men have managed to disappear? How do you think the big four got popped so easily? They got trapped. Weaved into a maze. Our operatives spend all this time observing, they don't understand that they're the ones being observed. Our optics are upside down. However, we can turn the tables if we don't come in with a head full of steam and attack their decoy targets. The first step is to decode the physical market patterns and determine who sets this up. It has to be on a schedule, or else how would anyone know? The Raiders are known for their intimidation, so for one we can assume the minor businesses fall in behind them."

With that, Jak deactivated the holomap and squared himself towards Krussk and the Toydarian. His brow furrowed, emotional state one of calm concern, he would use this moment to appeal to their formidable stature in the Blue Star Pirates.

"Send me and a squad down there and we will find the means of control. That is key to manipulating them from a cellular level. We go in, take over an abandoned security gate on the decrepit North End, and start knocking over the Raiders' lookouts. Small but lightning-fast strikes. Whoever is in charge of imports on the outskirts knows how the market will be moving on a given day most assuredly. Trust me."

And just as the final words fell, he was back in the hard silence of the interrupted briefing.

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Re: Where Good Dreams Go Bad (BSP)

Post by Master Buggie » Sun Dec 31, 2017 6:23 pm

Original Post by Tryn Lya'Me...

"I am inclined to believe the Friend who sounds like a local to area" Tryn was reclining near the back and felt the eyes of the pirates all draw to him "I know I'm not the only one thinking it, he's making sense, we should at least consider it"

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Re: Where Good Dreams Go Bad (BSP)

Post by Master Buggie » Sun Dec 31, 2017 6:41 pm

Original Post by Buggie...

***Region: Classified***
***Sector: Classified, System: Classified***
***Aleph-Class Research Facility***


Buggie stood high upon the observation level, looking down at the engineers that were connecting delicate machinery into a pod-shaped apparatus. The workplace itself was white, pristine and harshly sterile, with a vacuum tube sucking any excess fibers out of the room and a specialized humidity stabilizing system in place. This was not the first iteration of the research project that Buggie had been assigned to; several others had come before it, each build growing in size and complexity as the engineering team fretted over flaws in the project's code and bore the stresses of improving the machine's capabilities. With a datapad in hand, Buggie reviewed the latest reports on the ultra-sensitive project. He had been in this research facility for weeks, his location unknown to himself or any of the occupants aboard the reclaimed Manollium-class herdship, such was the value of the project being developed. During that time, he had grown familiar with the teams of engineers, scientists, and other workers that made up the Research and Development Operational Division. One of which, Buggie could see through the reflection on his datapad's screen, was now looming over his shoulder.

The Bith Chief of Engineering, Doctor Ralla Nu'walle, made an uncomfortable noise, prompting Buggie to turn and face her.

"Your posture suggests that you are dissatisfied with our progress, Captain Buggie," Nu'walle observered in her quick, matter-of-fact manner of speech. The Bith was not one to speculate; she made it sound as if she were stating a proven truth.

"I'm just wondering how I'll be able to find the additional parts we need in time for the next build," Buggie admitted, flipping off the screen of his datapad and holding it close to his chest. That small security measure had become habit early on in his time with the Blue Star Pirates. Despite the fact that he was speaking with the Chief of Engineering, data for his eyes only meant that it was only for his multifaceted eyes.

"Hopefully you did not have them coming from the Ring of Kafrene. Trouble, trouble, trouble," Nu'walle said, gesticulating her concern.

"Oh?" Buggie asked, not sure how she had come across that knowledge, but ignorant of that which she spoke. The Ring of Kafrene was the furthest thing on his mind, and he wasn't all too familiar with the outpost to begin with.

The Bith smiled, "You had not heard. Another upstart syndicate looking for trouble, now that Black Sun has shown it is not infallible. Very few of these small up and coming organizations live up to their ambitions. These Red Keys--that is what they go by-- are giving us more than we bargained for. Killings, disrupting our operations, and more."

"Surely, in our line of work, that's not all that unusual," Buggie reasoned.

"Matters have gotten bad enough for a special session of the Council to be called. The Captain was absent. Manth K'Derak-- that is the head of the Logistics Divison-- went so far as to suggest that the situation was untenable," Ralla explained, chuckling to herself, "Imagine if the Captain had been there to hear that."

Buggie had no desire to get involved with the crisis evolving on the Ring of Kafrene, not that he had a choice at the moment. His duties were here aboard the research facility. Still, his curiosity was piqued. Surely, this was a time of a shifting balance of power within the galaxy, both overtly, and in the underground where he and the Blue Star Pirates operated.

"Keep me updated," Buggie requested, in order to sate his interest.
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Re: Where Good Dreams Go Bad (BSP)

Post by Master Buggie » Sun Dec 31, 2017 6:43 pm

Original Post by Buggie...

***Expansion Region, J-15***
***Thand Sector, Kafrene Asteroid Belt***
***Ring of Kafrene***


Captain Dusk Imdig, a tall man for a Chev, sizing in at just under two meters tall, sat in one of Kafrene's many dives. It was no accident that he found himself seated in a booth alone; Kafrene had become a dangerous place, and this particular establishment had been secured as a refuge upon the commencement of Blue Star Pirate operations on the twin asteroid outpost. For Imdig, the captain of all operations on Kafrene, it was a place where he could try to work out how he was going to salvage the several dozen issues that had fallen into his lap without worrying about taking a knife to the throat. Once the Red Key Raiders decided there was only room for one criminal organization on Kafrene, he had almost literally taken residence in the dive bar. The cramped streets simply were not safe for an abnormally tall Chev.

Imdig had just finished a holocall with his top associates via his datapad. Of course, the bar was noisy and he had to plug a set of listening devices into his ears in order to properly hear. It was a hazard of working in an establishment such as this, but he immediately realized his error upon feeling the hot, stale breath of a Saurin behind him. He knew he was made.

A cloaked male with skin as pale as milk-- the standard, not the blue kind-- seated himself across from Imdig. Carmine streaks crossed from beneath his eyelids down under his cheekbones, as if he had been slashed open twice with a vibroblade. His dark eyes searched Imdig, no doubt looking for the same fear his companions felt before their untimely deaths in the streets of the outpost. This man was an Ubese, but Imdig wouldn't have known it, having never seen one of their species unmasked.

"And you are?" Imdig asked, trying his best to keep his composure.

"Your equal, or rather, I was, but it seems I now have you at a disadvantage," the pale man chortled.

"Ah," Imdig grunted, swallowing down the rush of excitement that had just run through his mind.

The fool! The Red Key Raiders had erred in setting foot in this establishment. The owners of this dive were bought and paid for, and many of the locals had been hired on as protection. At his signal, the entire dive bar would prey upon the Red Key and his thug.

"Dangerous for you to have come here, friend," Imdig threatened, showing a predatory smile, "It could turn out to be bad for your health."

The Red Key chortled again, signaling to his Saurin companion. The reptilian sentient let out a screech and, suddenly, the entire dive bar froze. All eyes looked upon the Saurin or the Ubese man... and none of the associated hands reached for a blaster.

"Bought and paid for, you see," the Ubese informed Imdig, much to his own delight, "Now, if you don't mind, you'll be coming with us, along with the datapad and everything else stored here that you and your Blue Star Pirate outfit have been using to interfere with our own operations."

If Imdig was going down, he wasn't going down easy. Raising the datapad over his head, he made to slam it down and destroy it upon the booth's countertop. What he didn't anticipate was the Saurin capturing his arm, wrenching the datapad free, and lunging forward to place the captain's arm between its carnivorous teeth, shredding flesh between the dagger-like rows of teeth.

Imdig had nearly finished a defiant "Kriff you!" but what came out was much closer to a half-insult, half agonized scream. Outside the dive bar on the crowded street of Kafrene, the scream was muted against the ceaseless march of feet that shuffled against the cracked, filth-ridden pavements.
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