[CNS] The Heist - RO Thread

ISD II Perdition
Citadel Space

The silence was oppressive as the two Sadowans waited for the Knight to begin. Calenhad Mobok’tel was not force sensitive but the tension was as thick as butter.

The meeting had been set up by his Quaestor, Etah Bloodfyre as he felt the information the young Knight had was worth bringing to the attention of the Consul and Proconsul.

He took a deep breath and began. “While we were here on Citadel, I reached out to some old colleagues to find out more about the Collective. I discovered that a grandson of an old family friend, Thip Daggio, has gotten involved with the Collective and has come into possession of a Sith Holocron and another artifact that hasn’t been identified yet.”

Bentre sat up a bit at the mention of a Sith Holocron.

“I have learned that Thip will be hosting an auction of these items as well as many others on Cato Neimoidia in a weeks time. I propose we have a group attend the auction as a distraction while another group infiltrates and steals the artifacts.”

The Consul sat motionless, his elbows resting on the chair arms and his fingers at his lips in thought. The Proconsul was also eerily silent. The two looked toward each other momentarily. Calenhad got the impression a silent exchange went between them. Bentre nodded at his Proconsul.

“We will need schematics of the auction hall, a list of attendees and security details for the event.” Ashia spoke plainly.

“I can get that.” The Captain replied quickly. His voice felt a little shaky.

“Who will be the distraction during the auction?” Bentre spoke up now.

“Sir, myself and my master, Darkhawk will.” Calenhad replied.

“We will need other’s stationed around to allow a quick exit. Replace some of their security with our own people, etc.” The Keibatsu seemed to be working through different scenarios in her head.

Stahoes nodded in agreement. “We’ll inform the clan.”

“Very good sir, thank you.” Calenhad was shaking when he stood up and abruptly left the room. He pulled out his comlink and notified his master. The mission was a go.

This thread is where members- as on of two teams- will post for September’s Clan Monthly Run-On, The Heist.

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• The two teams to choose from are Infiltration and Extraction.
• The infiltration team’s objective is to steal an ancient Holocron and an artifact of unknown origin.
• The extraction team will provide a distraction and an escort away from the heist.

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• In order to place, members must make two posts. The minimum word count for a post should be 250 words. There is no maximum word count for a post, but we do ask that you be reasonable.

• Clusters of Ice will be awarded to members for every 500 words completed across all of a member’s RO posts.

We hope that you all will have fun with this month’s Clan run-on!

Rollmaster’s Quarters
Aboard the ISD II Perdition
In Hyperspace Transit

“So what is it you want me to do?”

Asked a dark blue-skinned Ryn with white hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had amber colored eyes and was wearing a simple tunic and dark pants. Her tail swished from left to right as she stood with her arms crossed and stared at the Twi’lek Rollmaster.

The Twi’lek smiled at her as she spoke firmly. “I need you to go to Cato Neimoida and bring me back a fancy artifact. Word is that there is a supposed auction going to happen and there are some artifacts I want for the clan. I don’t normally ask you Seydal, but I need someone that I can trust to get in, steal it, and get out without too much fuss. The plan is for one team of people to go in and cause a distraction while the other steals it and escapes. You are one of the few people that I know far exceeds expectations when it comes to getting in and stealing things without a mess to clean up afterward.”

The Ryn raised an eyebrow and smirked a bit. “Well I much prefer getting things done without noise so am I going on my own then?”

“Negative, you will most likely be with some others as well on this, however just like you they should also be able to handle things quietly.”

The Ryn shifted forward some, her tail stopped swishing as she leaned a bit closer to the Twi’lek.

“I cannot guaranteed no noise, but I can play along with others. Just don’t ask me to clean up if they screw up.”

Tasha laughed. “Oh, I think you will find these people can handle themselves well and no if they mess up it’s on them not you.”

“All right Tasha, I will go along, but only because I am doing a favor for you saving my life.”

“Thank you Seydal, I will let you head out. Good luck!” Tasha called out as the Ryn left her office and headed down the corridor.

“To pull this off all quiet, is going to require luck.” Seydal muttered under her breath as she moseyed down the hall towards her quarters. “Luck and the Force.”

A Day Later
Transport ship to Cato Neimoida

Seydal looked over at her other companions. There was an Umbaran with their head covered to hide their features sitting across from her and a brown haired, brown eyed human male sitting beside. The Umbaran seemed very quiet and hadn’t really spoken a word so far. The human seemed to be deep in thought and mumbled occasionally about someone. There were also several others aboard for this mission.

The Ryn sat back in her seat and thought. “Well this will certainly be an interesting infiltration mission.”

ISD II Perdition
Citadel Space

Bentre stared out through the viewport, a million points of light echoing across the distance, his mind racing. What stories that light had seen, what they could tell, were they not dead and silent. His mind slipped sideways, envisioning the morbid keepers of holocrons he had worked with at Lyspair, on Tarthos, at…

'Sir, incoming priority message for you." Bentre shook the thought out of his head as the ensign spoke. It took a moment for him to process the sentence, his mind shifting gears.

“I’ll take it in my office.” He turned, his boots clacking against the polished floors as he made his way off of the bridge.

Workshop
ADS Fallen Spear
Citadel Space

Muz nodded, turning off the holoprojector, watching as the blue figure of the consul evaporated into the ether. He sat for a moment, his hand stroking his chin in thought before he turned.

“You’ll want to prep your droids.” He spoke, quietly addressing the Twi’lek as she looked up from her tools. Violet eyes blinked twice, and he could see the questions forming behind her facade. He just nodded once at her, then stood to leave, a scattering of conductors and wire clamps half wrapped around a shard of crystal left behind on the workbench. She tucked the kit back into the roll, wrapping it up and stowing it in the inside pocket of her vest.

“Allright, Renee, where did Hekate get off to now?” She twitched, her lekku swinging back over her shoulder, coiling almost protectively over the other. The astromech wheeled forward, the servos whining as it chirped back at her.

“I know, I know. But we have a job to do, and you’re not so good with a blaster.”

The R3 unit spun it’s dome for a moment, the binary chirp sounding almost like a groan. Leena’shylow frowned at it. “No, I don’t think he told them that.” She shrugged at the thought. She had spent a lot of time and energy avoiding the Brotherhood, having seen firsthand what the constant political machinations and power plays had done. Hopefully, her master had only told them she was his dedicated slicer, as he had done before. Then again, he had never voluntold her for a mission with his clan, so this was all new territory. Renee whistled at her, breaking her funk.

“Okay then.” She stood, looking across the workshop to see if the HK was in the charging station, finding nothing but maintenance droids. “Well, go on then.” She snorted at the astromech. “Go find Hekate.”

Bridge
ADS Fallen Spear
Citadel Space

“Onscreen.” Muz nodded at Blackwind. The man tapped a few keys on the console, the viewscreen shifting rapidly from the void to the image of the Consul. “I am assuming you want my slicer with your infiltration team?”

Bentre nodded. “It only makes sense.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “What about you?”

Muz let a smile creep halfway up his face. “Seems to me that Maxim Fastblade might have an auction to attend.”

Transport to Cato Nemoida

The transport was crowded. He hated confined spaces. Transports were bad enough, but one packed with so many people were even worse. He preferred the feeling of warm earth below his feet. A mixture of nausea and unease kept playing at the man. His silver-blue eyes darted across the space at the other occupants. They were a motley group from a multitude of backgrounds.

He might have borne that better, were it not for the closed space. In another situation, he might have been able to handle it better. In this closed spot, with little more than his own thoughts, he felt he would go mad before they made it to the surface of the planet. He tried to draw a slow breath, willing his pulse to calm.

The worst part of this trip was not the unease of travel or the tight quarters. He had endured another dream. He had seen a vision of pure terror. A thing, he could best describe as an abomination, had followed he and his comrades to the surface of a strange world. The abomination had hunted them down each in turn. The vision was like an avatar of death, consuming everything in its path without pause or discernment. Though the visions could be complicated or muddled in meaning, they had rarely proved to be false.

“So,” he grumbled at the Umbaran, “what are you expecting for first contact on the surface?” The girl seemed a bit green as they floated through the blackness of space toward the distant surface of the approaching planet.

Syntari opened her mouth to answer, but sudden turbulence broke off the word. Th transport bucked beneath them in defiance and for a moment Cimozjen wondered if the powers unseen were retaliating for what they were about to do. The thought was temporary and passing but the human still latched wildly upon any surface he could to stabilize himself. They would be groundside very soon.

Still Aboard the Transport to Cato Nemoida

Syntari knew it had been a bad idea to eat that morning as the transport vessel began to buck in the oncoming turbulence. There was nothing the older male could say or ask to keep her mind of the swaying of a vessel that was supposed to be safe and so the glare she shot the older male was more withering than perhaps the Umbaran had meant it to be.

“I’m expecting much less than you are, I assure you,” she snapped. Finally the ship stabilized, though that didn’t stop her from grasping at a handle above her head. “And you? Do you expect the worst of this miserable place?”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, struggling with sorting through her shattered memories to place his face. Did she know him, from before? The thought that she may be speaking to someone she could not remember was jarring. Unnerving, even. No, she was certain she didn’t know him.

More turbulence choked further words from her mouth. She closed her eyes and felt her heart leap into the back of her throat. Taking a breath, the man looked Syntari squarely in the eye. “I have seen more things in my thirty four years. There is a marked difference between expecting the worst, and dreading it. Sometimes,” he seemed to look past her with pain in his eyes, “it is borne of a fear of experiencing old grief, again.”

The Umbaran didn’t have the honor of replying to such a statement. No sooner had she opened her mouth to give him some caustic comeback than the ship shuddered one last time and she realized the horrendous flight was finally over. Relief spread through the tips of her fingers, allowing her to reclaim her hand from the handle above her head. She flexed her fingers, signature scowl settling over her face as she did so. Beside her the man—whose name she had forgotten if ever he shared it—began to rise and after a moment she followed suit.

“By the way,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to lock eyes with her again, “I’m Cimozjen Kurios.”

Oh, so now he was going to introduce himself? Syntari raised an eyebrow but gave up her name nonetheless. “Syntari Bastiayn,” she said grudgingly.

“You know…” he hesitated, then shrugged. “Nah, you wouldn’t be interested in something like that.”

“Something like what?”

“Well, this might sound a little odd. You see, I thought that perhaps the two of us ought to work together on this little operation. You know, what with both of us being sneaky bastards and all.”

A dozen responses came to mind to be dismissed in a moment. For a heartbeat Syntari kept her silence, considering her options. Tackling something this large on her own seemed daunting in a way she hadn’t considered while tucked in the relative safety of the ship. “What do you have in mind?”

Private Deck
ADS Fallen Spear
Citadel Space

Walking the corridors of the Fallen Spear always seemed so surreal to the Equite. Takagari had only recently stayed for some time here, back during his training days with his Clan’s ProConsul Ashia Keibatsu. That was just one of the titles the Nightsister holds, she was also known as the bride of Grand Master Muz Keibatsu. The Battlemaster beamed with pride, always honored when the Keibatsu summoned him.

DarkHawk walked with principle to the Master’s Office of the ship. The doors whisked open before he could center himself to the entryway. Grand Master Muz and Augur Ashia sat at the desk, an intricately carved dark wood bit of furniture with a holographic display spraying up into the air as Takagari walked in. Falling back on a lifetime of service, DarkHawk dropped to one knee and bowed before his Masters.

Ashia Keibatsu spoke first, “Takagari, thank you for arriving so promptly.” The Grand Master simply nodded, acknowledging the gesture.

“I am at your service, without question” replied the Battlemaster.

“You may have already read the intel report, but we are planning a mission to Cato Neimoidia. There will be artifacts that are presumably being auctioned off, Naga Sadow needs to take possession of those items. Indeed, the auction will be a ruse, and a trap will most likely entail. We have contingency plans for this and strike teams will be in place waiting for their time to assault the auction house.”

“Yes Ma’am, Etah had briefed me earlier, how may I be of service?”

Both the Keibatsu looked at one another, then back to their Equite. The Grand Master’s expression was of blank seriousness, “Create me an opening so that we can strike.”

“As you wish my Lord…” Darkhawk met the Lion’s eyes quickly, his head spinning with words unsaid, the lesson burning itself into the equite’s mind. Stealth, deception and surprise/these are the things that close men’s eyes…

“You will act on behalf of your proprietor, and you will bid on these items.” The ProConsul’s words shook him back to the present. "As to our intel, they do not know you are aware of their trap, so the advantage is yours. Bend that advantage to the Clan’s will, divert them long enough for our forces to infiltrate and take control.”

“It will be my honor.” the Equite” said, bowing.

“We have a transport and a team of Rangers to accompany you, I believe your Knight Calenhad is already underway to dock in the hangar and join you.”

“Understood Ma’am, I will head there now with your permission.”

The Keibatsu both nodded, the Equite made an about face and exited their chambers. The Battlemaster picked up his pace and was forming a direct line to the hangar bay. Hitting the button to the turbo-lift the doors opened, Takagari entered and hit the button for the hangar.

DarkHawk entered the hangar, Calenhad was already strapping on his Deathtrooper Armor. The Ranger team was going over equipment checks, along with double checking weapons. The Battlemaster assisted his Knight and tightened the clasps to Cal’s back armor plating.

“This is a little overkill don’t you think Cal?” asked the Equite.

“What a better way to give this get up a test run,” the Knight said sarcastically.

DarkHawk just stared at Cal as he handed him his rifle.

The two Sadowans boarded their pre-appropriated transport, which happened to be a brand new Kuat Drive Yards VT-49 Decimator. Darkhawk paused a moment, eyes regarding the ship with some measure of satisfaction. In the days of the empire, being commissioned to a Decimator was a matter of some prestige, and he could see why. The transport commander motioned the Rangers to board. In just a few moments the Decimator made its way down the launch way, the hangar doors opened and the pilot pushed the throttles forward. Racing through the darkness of space, the pilot pushed the hyperdrive throttles forward, and in an instant, the ship disappeared.

Cal finally turned to DarkHawk and asked again, “DarkHawk, you going to let me in on what is on your mind?”

“I understand this is your OP, and understand the dynamics of it…,” replied DarkHawk.

“And…” Cal asked inquisitively.

“The fact we are walking into a trap is always unpredictable. Our hosts know who we are, but, do not know we are aware of that knowledge. So it’s controlled chaos, we have to maintain that control. Both Infiltration and extraction team leaders will be on comm’s with us to coordinate their flanking movements as we draw their initial forces on us.” Stealth, deception, and surprise… he thought it through. The enemy would have to think they had the upper hand for this gambit to work.

“Which should be relatively easy for them, as the auction room is nice and big…and round!” exclaimed Cal.

“We have from now until we land to come up with our game plan Cal, the last thing we need is this to be over as soon as we get off the ship.” DarkHawk replied intently.

ISD II Perdition Landing Bay
Onboard the Tigris Sanguine
Citadel Space

Alex looked at the NRA Recon Armor hanging on the rack. It had been ages since he last used it. In fact he was a member of Odan-Urr when he last wore it. Since he transferred to Clan Naga Sadow he had not really needed it. Alex could feel Jarvis fidgeting behind him. Alex always found it funny how the BD-3000 droid seemed nervous when Alex left the ship. Alex went through the mental checklist as he got dressed. With the final check complete he headed for the transport.

Transport to Cato Nemoida

Alex sat with the barrel of his carbine pointing to the deck. It was muscle memory from the hundreds of hours training with the Third Recon Group. As the transport left the Perdition Alex closed his eye and felt at ease. There was a calming effect about the familiarity of being on a transport for a drop. As he looked around the transport there were some faces that he knew, but many he did not.

There was some idle conversations going on. Alex could hear the tension in the voices. But even more then that Alex could feel it from someone. Alex looked at Bentre and after a moment could see the tension. It was not the tension one expected going into an unknown situation like this drop. It was the tension one sees in a newly caged animal. The frustration of being in the small cage and wanting to get out. Alex could see Bentre open and closing his hands. Each time they closed the knuckles turned white.

There was an Umbarain female and Human male talking which Alex did not recognize. The human seemed at ease, the Umbarian did not. She had a white knuckle grip on the overhead hand grip. The Umbarain looked a little green as the transport made the transition from space to atmospheric flight. As the gravity shifted and changed she held her breath. Every time the transport hit bad air the Umbarain would pause the conversation, and her grip seemed to tighten on the grip. As the landing thrusters engaged Alex did a quick last minute check, his hand moved from item to item. As he stood he engaged the blaster pack and thumbed the safety off of the carbine.

Cimozjen gave a wry smile as he considered Syntari’s question . “The whole idea still seems a bit crazy. I am sure, between the two of us, we could slink along more easily than the rest of our group. I was thinking we would just,” the man paused, his smile widening, “scout things out a bit. Nothing too fancy or too involved. We could just gather some intel, maybe we hit a few targets of opportunity. Or hey, maybe we even make a few opportunities for ourselves. Who knows, maybe our little scouting operation could even make its way to the vault where they are keeping the target.”

“That is certainly an idea,” Syntari spoke slowly as she checked to ensure that all of her equipment was carefully tucked in their proper place on her persons.

“You are the better sneak of the two of us. You can slink about, while I act as eyes for you in the light. All it will take is a bit of careful-” Kurios paused as he searched for the right words, “misdirection?” He made a dramatic motion. “I stumble about like an attendee of the auction, lost and out of his depth. You can take advantage of my distraction. Besides-” he tapped the side of his head.

We have the Force as a tool. Syntari heard his voice in her heard, distant and quiet, yet almost as though he were standing right behind her ear. I assume that you are disciplined enough to give thoughts and impressions through the Force, right?

The Umbaran woman shot him a withering glare that silently questioned his intelligence. The Dark Jedi raised his hands in mock surrender. “I have long learned not to assume anything. Some ladies get quite ruffled at that kind of thing.”

Giving a courteous nod, Cimozjen began a meandering stroll towards one of the space dock workers. His body language seemed to relax for a moment, before becoming rigid again. He was the very image of a stereotypical tourist: curious and ignorant as a newborn baby nerf. Looking between cargo containers and several unmarked buildings, he gave a nod at his surroundings before nodding back at his comrade.

I will leave this first, particular bit of skulking up to you. There was a chuckle to his telepathic message. I will start to lure some dock workers into position for you to take out. It will be like a con. Once they are indisposed, we can make our way toward the target.