Era of Rebellion - Navigation

Christopher Fulk, Christopher Levy, Jaina Roberts, Thomas Rogers, and Michael Whittaker.
Zero years before the Battle of Yavin (35:2:21) in the Brentaal system: Brentaal IV (Cormond: Dagon Tong's safe house and The Spicer's Folly).

Trooper Templeton Horner, Lieutenant Shayne Korvac, Trooper Jace Mereel, Sergeant Reilly Judah, and Captain Dagon Tong.


The Spicer's Folly had not changed, even when the garrison started rapidly increasing in size about a year ago. It was still a seedy hotspot. What ever you wanted, they had, so long as it was either immoral or illegal. They did not use service droids, mostly because a service droid had a hard time acting as a pimp and lying about it to local authorities, or to Imperial officers who wanted to know why their storm troopers had come down with a rash of STDs. The lighting was poor, the drinks that were supposed to be cold were always warm, but it had it's own sort of charm despite it all. The bartender remember his regular's would sometimes knock a bit of the tab off, and the girls always remembered the regulars who tipped. The surrounding neighborhood was just as seedy and rundown, the sort of place that begged the question, did the cantina drag the neighborhood down, or did the neighborhood get the cantina.

Inside the quality establishment, the man sat silently in a worn plush chair with a severe frown upon his face. His hand was clutched around a glass of Corellian ale, mostly finished and soon to accompany the two empty glasses next to it. His eyes were fixed upon a Twi'lek waitress serving patrons on the far end of the bar, though at times they would rapidly glance around the cantina and survey the other patrons. His dark red jacket was ruffled and slightly worn, matching the red and black trousers he wore. His DH-17 blaster pistol rested comfortably underneath the long jacket, the weapon set to kill with the safety on. The man attempted to find some clarity and peace within the bar, though it was rare that such was ever attained.

Trooper Templeton Horner stood quietly in the back of The Spicer's Folly, his eyes never seeming to leave the Imperial Intelligence officer as he pretended to nurse his drink. The assignment of protecting these bureaucrats in establishments such as this was towards the lower end of the billet, usually reserved for new recruits. Unable to wear the distinctive white armor he had trained to use, he was forced into civilian attire that made him blend him into the surrounding patrons, though he appeared a shade cleaner than most to the keen eye ... or nose. His SE-14r light repeating blaster being the only piece of technology brought with him.

Toward the back one feminine but obviously drunk voice grew louder and louder. Obnoxious perhaps but only from a certain point of view. To the woman, she was well within her rights but the tender wasn't seeing it that way. Though the conversation was far from violent, the female finally slumped off the barstool in order to leave. It would take a moment or two for her to get the floor to remain still. Finally sandaled feet to a few steps, bumping into occupied chairs. She had to pause near the clean 'gentleman.' She leaned for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. "They poison you here, ya know." Eyes weren't on the man but she was speaking to. "Poison."

Extremely light eyes glanced nervously through the think transparent lenses that were strapped across his vision. The magnification the lenses provided made his eyes seem huge and bug like if one were to catch a glimpse at the right angle. It was just another defect the poor kid had, but you had to see to be able to shoot straight and shooting straight was just about the only thing he was good at. Jace suspected the rest of the squad hated him but they had good reason. He was young, had a stutter, was rather annoying and to top it all off not that pleasant to look at. An oily pale complexion along with acne and acne scars greeted every being who was unlucky enough to glance his way. He would never know why he was allowed into such a squad but was sure as hell not going to say anything about it. He followed every order as best as he could hoping commander Tong who Jace idolized would come to like him. His current order which he didn't really understand was to stand on a corner near some horrible building where disgusting beings and sounds came from. Apparently he was suppose to be some sort of illegal narcotics dealer but he doubted anyone would try to make a purchase from someone who looked like he did. The DLT-20A rifle that he preferred over any other weapon was wrapped up in some garbage near his feet. The rifle was a bit to large to hide on his person so he hid it nearby. A DL-18 pistol was resting tightly in a soldier holster under his simple brown leather pilots jacket.

His eyes lazily turned towards Reilly, with half-listening ears discerning yet another drunk patron of the bar. Swirling his drink slowly, the jaded man considered the possibility of calling it an early night. He doubted he would approach the Twi'lek waitress, and he had little other reason to stay in the hellhole that his fellow officers so detested.

Horner turned his attention towards the woman who came to a stop in front of him, and sneered at her disdainfully. She smelled as if she had not seen the inside of a sonic shower in days and seemed to already be quite inebriated. "Miss," he began speaking in a distinctly off-world accent, "As you are quite in fact alive ... by most standards at least ... let me assure you that you have not in fact been poisoned."

"Oh, I have." She leaned closer to the man and 'whispered' in his ear. "That's how they get their dancers." A narrowed-eyed glance was made toward what seemed to be the owner or manager of the bar before the woman stumbled forward. Another few patrons would be bumped into before she found herself belly down at the table of the Imperial officer. Her gut hitting the table was all her stomach needed. Soon there was a greenish-brown fluid flowing forcefully from her mouth and toward the officer's body. Even if he managed to move fast enough to not get puke on his attire, the puddle forming near his shoes might prove disgusting.

His grayish eyes stopped their nervous darting to focus on the entrances to the Cantina. He had already memorized what the Imperial looked like so hopefully he would be easy to spot. It would be so great if he were the one to spot this Imperial and take him down. That would get the respect of the commander and with his respect the others would start to like him more. His lips lifted into a smile for a second or two allowing the dim lighting to gleam off the metallic braces that covered his teeth. He reminded him self that he was suppose to be on the lookout for a certain Imperial officer that the Commander needed to 'talk' to. Pulling his thought away from what he could do in order to make the Commander and the rest of the squad like him Jace shifted his weight so he could lean against the wall of the building and waited for something to happen.

Watching the woman fall in slow motion, the man realized there was little he could do to avoid the damage. Rising quickly to save his trousers, he frowned further as fluid and bile covered his previously-polished boots. After staring briefly at Reilly and debating the merits of harassing her, the man instead turned towards the door and slowly began walking. A swift glance was cast at Horner, and the officer straightened his jacket as moved.

Dagon was standing in the shadows of the alley near the exit. To passerby, the way he was leaning against the wall, he'd either had to much to drink or had caught something from a dancer. He wasn't carrying the EE-3, just another drunk tough in a neighborhood full of them. He could see who came and went though, in a position to move on the pair when they came outside.

Trooper Horner moved forward, coming behind the fallen woman, reaching for her hips with both of his strong hands. With a slight grunt he attempted to push her off the table and onto the ground below. Sneering at her, his eyes darted towards his charge, now standing out quite conspicuously in the seedy establishment. His hand moved down to rest upon his sidearm, concealed by the dark brown duster that descended down towards his thighs. He kept several paces behind the officer, in his mind already embellishing the story he would tell the others at the garrison.

Reilly fell toward the ground with a grunt after the trooper's attempt to 'assist' her. She was back on her feet as quickly as she could, keeping her drunken cover in mind. After what seemed to be a full tripping on a chair, she fell forward toward the bodyguard/trooper, hoping to catch him off guard and knock him down, or at least show down his ability to keep up with his charge. A bit more fluid left her mouth as she neared the floor and/or trooper.

Wow the Commander was so good, even for Jace commander Tong looked like he had to much to drink and Jace knew the truth. A small sigh escaped his lips as his thoughts wondered for a moment. What would it be like if he were good at so many things like the commander was. He scolded him self mentally from letting his thoughts and eyes wonder from the cantina. If Tong even suspected he wasn't paying attention to his assignment there would be hell to pay.

"Oof," Horner groaned audibly as the woman, feeling quite like a sack of potatoes, collided with his unexpected backside. Falling face force he extended his hands in front of him, as if he were about to perform a pushup, and attempted to brace himself. There was barely enough time and the maneuver was perform very awkwardly, causing him to become quite bruised in the process.

Intentionally ignoring the ruckus behind him, the officer continued on his stride towards the door. Debating his life decisions on coming to places such as these, the man sighed as he passed through the loudly hissing doors of the cantina. He paused as soon as he was outside, waiting for his associate to rejoin him. Placing his hands on his hips, the officer vocalized his thoughts "Might be time for a new cantina."

Jace would hear a whisper filtering into his ear via the earpiece tucked into it. "Be ready. Tangos are Oscar Mike." It was short, clipped. The captain continued the drunken swaying, occasionally gagging as he tried to hold back what had to have been gallons of vomit. Must have been poisoned the same as the girl in the cantina, while he waited for the officer to decide if he would take the same route to his speeder, which would lead him past Dagon, and towards Jace, or if he'd throw a curve ball into the works. One of the times that a four man team really came in handy, but his other new recruit had business else where.

Reilly laid on top of the Imperial trooper. Unfortunately for the man, the 'poison' was not done with her. This round of vomit would be spewed right at the man's head. "Gah...sorry." And more puke ended whatever else she might have been saying. Fortunately for the man, and for Reilly, she slipped the antidote under her tongue as she wiped her mouth.

Hopefully the commander never noticed how often Jace gazed at him. With that thought his eyes glanced automatically in the direction of Commander Tong. Hopefully he was far enough away and concealed in darkness for the commander to notice his admiring eyes. Hiding a smile by chewing on his lower lip Jace caught the sound of the cantina as the door opened. Tearing his gaze away from the spectacular Dagon Tong he glanced toward the building. Trying not to stiffen up like a board at the sight of the imperial Jace slid his hand slowing into his jacket allowing his grip to slide around the hidden DL-18. Getting the transmission from his boss he waited and kept an eye on both figures waiting nervously for what would happen next

Noticing that he was still quite alone at the entrance to the cantina, the officer slowly rolled his eyes as he turned himself around. Tapping a console to open the doors of the cantina once again, he silently witnessed the humorously sickening scene of his alleged bodyguard being assaulted by the drunkard of a woman. His left hand moved from his hip to the inside of his jacket, resting upon the butt of the blaster pistol. While he trusted that Horner could handle himself against the woman, the officer was becoming somewhat impatient at the affair. "Its cold outside, Horner."

Trooper Horner cringed visibly as he felt the feelings of the moist chunks of the woman's vomit collide with the back of his head. "You..." he snarled as he forced his more substantial weight from out from under her. He had just about enough of her antics. He began to stand, positioning himself between the officer and the woman. Without looking at him, he waved his hand towards the Lieutenant, instructing him to move on. He started back out of the door, the pungent aroma of the woman's filth heralding his every step.

Well, she hoped that gave Tong enough time to act. She remained laying as though passed out until the pair had left the cantina.

Frowning again, the officer turned away from the door of the cantina. Glancing down at his boots, he noticed the vomit that covered the bottom of the soles and the rest of the shoes. He certainly was not getting in his speeder with that filth. Sighing to himself, the officer turned towards the right and began a brisk walk away from the establishment. He planned to walk a block around the cantina and return for his bodyguard, hopefully scraping off the bile from his boots as well.

"Jace, once the primary target as passed you, slip your side arm into your hand, tell him that he wont be harmed if he cooperates. He's Intel, he should know better than to try and fight his way free. If that doesn't get the job done and he goes for his weapon, stun him. I'll take care of the straggler. Make sure to wait until he walks past you to touch your weapon. We don't want a fire fight." He said softly, inaudible to anyone not on their com circuit. The bodyguard should be coming shortly, and the officer's impatience was a stroke of luck.

Hearing the commanders orders Jace flicked the DL-18 over to stun and then slid his sweaty palms into his pockets away from the small blaster that was concealed by his coat. He glanced upwards at the approaching Imperial hoping that his appearance of a Young kid in the wrong neighborhood would explain the pale sweaty look that the man would no doubt notice as he passed by.

Horner remained in front of The Spicer's Folly, sliding the vomit-covered duster onto the ground. There was no sense in having that cleaned. The removal of the coat made his sidearm quite apparent to anyone who might be watching. He could see that the Lieutenant had gotten quite the distance away and he began to move after him in a normal pace as to not attract any more attention then they had already received.

The drunk tough in the alley gagged again as the trooper walked past, finally pushing himself off the wall with an audible grunt. He cursed, but did so with such a slur in his words that you couldn't tell what language he was speaking, let alone what he'd said. Just another drunk. He staggered on his way out of the alley, falling in behind the trooper. He was singing some cantina song, but again, it was so slurred you couldn't understand a word of it. Just another drunk. Until the last second. What the trooper might have expected as a bump as the drunk passed by turned into Tong's right hand slamming around, his fingers together, turning his hand almost into a blade as it came for the man's throat. And before the man would have a chance to even deal with that problem, he'd hear the sound of flesh and cloth tearing, as the vibroblade in Tong's left hand stabbed up into the man's ribcage, aiming for the lung. Almost as soon as it had made it all the way into the hilt, the captain twisted, yanked it free, and struck against the man's back, aiming for the major blood vessel just next to the spine. Again, the blade was twisted as he pulled it free. If only one of the three blows struck, it would still leave the hapless trooper dying silently on the street, with no real clue as to what had happened to him.

Reilly stood, wiping off some of the gunk that was on her brown pants. If they hadn't looked tattered before, the puke residue did the trick. As she walked out of the cantina she was faced with the excessive violence of her commander. There were more passive ways to keep the guard at bay. But that was something to be discussed at a later date. If at all. She stepped past the pair without acknowledging either, turned left and headed toward the rendezvous point; keeping her com live in case she was needed.

Horner let out a groan of pain as the Captain's hand connected with his neck, but it was quickly stifled as the blade tore into his chest. As his lung was pierced his ability to speak was cut off and replaced with a painful, gasp of air that had nowhere to go. As blood filled his lungs and poured from the wound in his chest he dropped forward onto his knees, his complexion going visibly white. The third penetration into the spine ended what was left of his life, and almost silently he keeled over towards his right side and lay a bloody mess on the moist, filth of the alleyway.

The officer continued his stride, one hand still on his hip and the other on his holster. Somewhat lost in thought, his eyes turned and lingered upon Jace. Probably an Imperial dropout, the officer mused to himself. His calm evening was then disturbed by hearing a groan not too far behind him. He began to turn halfheartedly, expecting to see some street urchin having drunkenly stumbled somewhere. Instead, his eyes registered the familiar form of Horner falling rather painfully to the ground. Swearing under his breath, the officer's hand quickly pulled his DH-17 out of the holster and flicked off the safety. He spun and pressed his back against the nearby wall, his eyes looking in the direction of the fallen bodyguard. He was about five or so feet from Jace, his earlier musings about the young man having quickly been forgotten.

The Imperial did not know it but his musing were right, Jace was a former Imperial. Thankfully the training he did get from both the Empire and the Rebellion did kick in. As the Imperial pulled his weapon out Jace did the same with his own. The small DL-18 was brought out of the shoulder rig the barrel swinging to point in the direction of the imperial. Well so much for doing this the easy way Jace thought. The only thing he was ever good at was shooting and hoping the Imperial was distracted enough by the Commander and his awesome killing skills Jace yanked back on the trigger of the small blaster sending a small blue stun bolt in the direction of the Imperials upper torso.

Trying to discern the figure that had brought down Horner, the officer's attention was focused mostly away from Jace. His ears did register a familiar sound of metal being rapidly moved, along with the single click he was accustomed to hearing. Yet by the time his mind made the connection and he began to turn his attention back towards the younger man it was far too late. The stun bolt impacted him in the chest, pushing him further against the wall before he slumped forward into the street, hand still clutched around his DH-17. His soiled boots would now be the least of his worries.

As Jace did exactly what he'd been told to, Dagon hauled the corpse of the dead man into the alley, quickly stripped him of his valuables. Blaster, holster, credits, the usual things a man would loose in a robbery. To the locals, especially without ID on the man, it would just another of the ten stabbings that would occur in the neighborhood that night. A man who'd wandered into the bad side of town, not to make it out. It would slow down Imperial response to the deed. With the items in hand, he moved now across the street, and got into the speeder. In short order, he'd backed the vehicle up so that Jace could toss him in, they could collect their last team member, and whisk the officer off to the safe house that they had set up in the last few days while they were tracking this man. It was a rundown, abandoned building, but it had a cargo port, allowed them to move without too much attention, and when you closed the door, no one saw what you unloaded from your speeder.

He stood there for a second or two his jaw falling open. He actually did it...he knew he was a really good shot but nothing like this happened to him before. Finally closing his jaw he slid his small blaster back into his holster and got to work. Moving quickly but not that steadily toward the downed Imperial, Jace scooped up the imperials weapons and slid it into the belt at his waist. Taking another deep breath he noticed The commander moving over with the speeder. As the vehicle pulled up Jace slid his arms under the Imperials arms and dragged him into the large speeder.

The officer was dragged into the speeder, his body offering no resistance to being tossed around. After being thrown in the back he silently remained captive, his stunned self not being able to do anything more.

With cargo aboard, Dagon pulled the vehicle around to the other side of the Spicer's Folly to pick up their medic, while Jace secured the Imperial with binders and stripped him of any useful equipment. The speeder pulled along side Judah, and one of the doors opened so that she could jump in as it slowed, and then they could be off.

And jump she did. Once inside, she glanced at their captive and then to Jace before frowning "Smells worse than the cantina in here." She pulled a small box out of her right pants pocket. Inside was a syringe filled with sedative H4b. It was a just in case thing. 'just in case' the Imperial awoke prior to their arrival at the safe house. For now, it remained in the box which was placed back in her pants.

The drive was not a long one, and once inside their secondary safe house, with the cargo doors safely shut behind them, Dagon unceremoniously tossed the officer over his shoulder and headed into the basement. It was the best place to carry out an interrogation, as it didn't have windows, and you couldn't hear much of anything going on from the outside. The intelligence officer was then stripped down to his underwear, and sat on a rather uncomfortable slopped stool, where his hands and legs were secured behind him. The room he'd find himself in was small, barren, the stereotypical single light source that didn't work very well, and cast a shadow into the corners. But the door was clearly heavy, and reinforced. A no frills cell to be sure. Dagon left the man shackled, arms and legs probably already aching from the awkward position, with the door to the cell secured while he went upstairs for a cup of coffee, a cigarra, and to let their captive wake up from the stun bolt.

And slowly rouse he did. A terrible headache was the first thing he became aware of, followed shortly by his lack of clothing. Mild discomfort was then sensed from his arms and legs being tied, and finally his eyes began to focus on the room in front of him. An intelligence officer as he was, the man quickly assessed his situation. His captors were not simple scoundrels or thieves, and he had clearly been targeted for the abduction. He closed his eyes again, preparing himself for things to come.

Reilly headed right to the refresher. It was way past shower time. She figured the men folk would not be as worried about their smell as she was so taking the shower first seemed only right. As the water poured over her head and down slim form her eyes closed. The vision of the dead imperial flashed to mind causing her eyes to open. She shook her head, finishing the cleansing ritual and stepping out into the refresher, all clean. Only thing left was to brush her teeth to rid most of the taste of vomit from her mouth.

With hot coffee in him, he took a moment to go through the valuables that he'd collected. He fished the ID card out of the man's wallet, and glanced at it. A trooper. So the Imperials were using PPD as grunt work. He wondered how long that would persist. He doubted it would for much longer. He took a long pull of the cigarra, and then finished his cup of coffee. Time to go down stairs, make the proper introductions. He headed back down the basement, and with a moment of work to unlock the cell door, stepped in to the room with the Imperial. He didn't lock the door behind him, but as of now, it wasn't necessary. He let his face remain in the shadows while he observed the man's face, trying to remember if the man had been one of those that had been on Brentaal the last time he had been. But he hadn't gotten to know the far reaching intelligence division as well as he should have, so it didn't surprise him that he did not exactly recognize the man. After a moment, Tong spoke. "Name, Rank Serial number."

While he had performed his share of interrogations in the past, he had never quite been on the other side of the table. He stared at the figure in the shadows, of whom he currently knew very little. Since being difficult would likely prevent him from gaining information about his captors, the Imperial decided to cooperate for the time being "Shayne Korvac, Lieutenant, five-four, two-five, two-seven, six."

Hair still wet, Judah made her way from the make-shift med lab to the interrogation area. On a table just outside to room she left a dose of avabush. This drug would assist in getting the truth out of the Imperial and save Tong from so much violence. She nearly laughed at that thought. Tong not violent. And the Emperor has a pet Ewok. Once in place she headed up to get herself some coffee, figuring Tong had made a pot by now.

"Lieutenant Korvac. You might infer that you have been taken as a prisoner of war, given the setting and the way in which you were obtained." Tong stepped from the shadows now, so that the man could see the three distinct scars that marked his face from a time in which he had been the one on the stool. "But you are not. As of right now, you are a corpse. If you co-operate, and do not force me to commit further violence, and the information is good, then, you will be afforded all the benefits of a POW. Do you understand?" He took another long drag off his cigarra, and brought his cold, dead gaze on the man.

His eyes flicked up and down the face of his captor. Memories surfaced of seeing the man's image on intelligence reports, one of the numerous former Imperials who had gone rogue for this reason or that. While he did not know the man by name, he was aware that his interrogator had likely been versed in Imperial information-gathering techniques. There was no reason to resist yet, so the officer only said one word "Yes."

"The information I seek is simple. I want to know about the units that are stationed on Brentaal and the rest of the Ringali Shell. I want to know about the ones the citizens do not. I want a full briefing of the opsec in this sector. Nothing that really endangers anyone. And will save you any difficult asking." One of the times that being an Imperial had paid off, he would have had an interrogation droid instead of a moral medic for the purposes of injections and first aid. He would have vastly preferred the droid at the moment.

The man listened intently, his gaze never leaving that of his captor. When the man had finished speaking the officer raised his own voice "With your Imperial background you should know that information is compartmentalized. I know about classified additions to our local garrison and various informants we have stationed throughout this area, but the composition of fleets and regiments is beyond my purview." A small smile appeared on the face of the man, though he did question his own personal safety at the moment.

"Of course it is." Dagon inhaled deeply off the cigarra again, his eyes not leaving the prisoner's. "Well, tell me what is within your purview." Let the man wonder when the violence would come. Let the anxiety build.

"I know of the suppression units we have deployed to the garrison, the information we have on various rebels in this city and the commando teams we have located off-site, ones that specialize in search and rescue." No implying was necessary there, as the Imperial was sure his captor could read through the lines. The officer was reaching his limit on information he could share, however, and he began mentally preparing himself for the oncoming escalation.

"Ah yes. The Search and Rescue teams. Well, perhaps I will ask about the location of their safe houses in a bit. There is no real rush. Your body guard was killed in a robbery. And he has no identification on him. The local law enforcement will simply shrug and add it to the number of dead and robbed in that neighborhood, it will be days, perhaps a week before the garrison even hears of it. In that time, you will be AWOL of course, the trail will run cold. What do you think you can endure in the span of a week?" And with that Dagon walked out, and the cell door was slammed shut behind him, the sound of the locks reengaging unmistakable. A few moments later, the light went out, and what could only be described as some of the most obnoxious folk music ever to find its way onto a recording began pumping in at a volume that would invade the very thoughts of those forced to listen.

Somewhat startled by the new entertainment he had been provided, the officer closed his eyes and began going through various mental exercises to focus his mind and distance himself from the music. While a typical officer's absence may have gone unnoticed, the man was aware that his ISB counterparts would rapidly become aware of his vanishing. While they watched Intelligence primarily to ensure loyalty, this situation would prove possibly useful in their zeal of keeping tabs on everyone within the Empire. The officer leaned back, as much as he could within his bindings, and waited for whatever was to come next.

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