Era of Rebellion - Navigation

Brandon Barnes, Andrew J. Fowler, Christopher Levy, Thomas Rogers, and Michael Whittaker.
Zero years before the Battle of Yavin (35:2:26) in the Brentaal system: Brentaal IV (Cormond: Dagon Tong's safe house and The Spicer's Folly; Imperial Garrison).

Corporal Jason Athol, Sergeant Major Rake Carson, Captain Dagon Tong, and Captain Lyle Turana.


The Spicer's Folly hadn't changed since the Intel officer had been kidnapped right outside it. That was part of the reason Dagon liked the place. They just didn't care. The ratio of armed men to sleazy women was about one to one-point-five, and you had a better chance of some industrial or biological spill on the floor eating through your boots than you had at getting a clean glass. It was perfect for the commando to see who was coming and going from the neighborhood, because if you were looking for any sort of information or illicit activity or equipment, this was Brentaal's unofficial first stop. So he sat, with what he assumed was a beer in front of him, smoking a cigarra. The front door was off to his right, easily visible, though he sat so that he was facing the dancer's pen more than the door. It allowed him to keep the service entrance in view. He wore the same fatigues he usually did, same shirt, same tactical vest, though today, as he often did in Cormond, he wore a light jacket over it. Not so much to conceal the vest, but the automatic slug thrower with integral suppressor hanging from his shoulder. He made no effort in this place to conceal the thigh holster with it's heavy weapon it, or the heavy blaster pistol holstered at the small of his back. He was waiting to see if the man he hadd contracted would actually show. Dagon had issues with the Alliance as far as man power went. Most times they just stuck people in his unit, and before he could get them properly trained, these people were pulled out again. Not to mention he was pretty sure someone was dodging his request for a good slicer. Going out of house didn't bother him though. In truth, he preferred those sort. He understood the mercenary mentality as well as anyone, and to Dagon, a man who operated without a safety net was guaranteed to be better than what he would normally get out of the Alliance anyway. That is why he had gone through the back alley channels to get a message to a slicer that he had remembered from his days as an Imperial. One who hated the Empire, and more importantly, could handle himself past the slicing. That was who he was waiting for.

Arriving early before the meeting Jason's standard procedure would take precedence. The outside of the cantina would be visually and electronically scanned for bugs and recorders. Any of these devices found would be treated to a nice electrical scrambling, and then as a precaution, three buildings on each side would also be checked over. Note would be made of the service entrance as a possible escape route should things being go badly. Finally, assured as he could be that the area was safe, he would enter the cantina, his left hand automatically would drop down to his modified heavy blaster pistol, gently ensuring the added augmentation crystal was still in place. Stepping out of the doorway quickly, he would move into the shadows of the door, so that he could adjust his eyesight, and scan the room for possible hostile contacts, and the client. The intrigue of the actual identity of the client is what drew him to this meeting, if the man was genuine, he would live. Otherwise, he would meet the same fate Jason always bestowed on Imperial types who attempted to hire his services. After scanning the room, and not finding anything of immediate concern, Jason would move to the table, matching the holo of the client to the person at the table, and sit at an angle that allowed the client to observe anything that would come in. As this was his area, he would surely know the threats better than Jason, even with his sixth sense for trouble tingling already. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long?" the question would be posed in that slightly educated, but also experienced tenor voice, kept soft enough that it couldn't travel beyond the table, turning his icy green eyes and mid-brown colored hair to face the potential client and await his response.

"Long enough. But then, standing across the street for a few minutes sweeping for bugs isn't something I'm going to worry over." He had not look over at the man who'd sat down at his table, appearing far more interested in the dancers for a moment. When he did look over, it brought the cheek with the trio of scars into plain view, and let him lock his eyes on the man across from him. Dagon was satisfied it was the person he had hired. Matched the mugshot anyway. "The job is simple. I have two people who need to get into a place they aren't supposed to. I'll provide you with the daily access codes, you'll do the necessary tweaking to personnel files to ensure they make it in on the basis of ID checks, and then you'll do a data dump." He had not actually stated the target yet, he was clearly gauging the man's reaction to the possible challenge of it all. "The pay is ten thousand." Good pay for a day's work.

That would cause his eyebrows to raise slightly "Ten thousand is a bit excessive, which means it's a bit more than just a simple in and out, so that means it has to be the prefab building a few klicks away. If you have the data, and I get a few hours to set up, you have a contract." his eyes would be cold, calculating, and again he would finger that blaster pistol "You sure we aren't being watched? Something feels...wrong." yet his face and voice were dead calm and serious.

"I'm certain we're being watched. Everyone in this place watches everyone else. And none of them are even law enforcement." Not in spirit anyway. Dagon just shrugged at the mention of the target. "You'll have the time you need to set up. It will be a mobile operation." But it was clear, they were not drawing any attention. No one had shifted at anything said. They were quiet speakers, as everyone else was in the Spicer's Folly, when they were not trying to get a dancer's attention, or the bartender's. "Speeder, three blocks down, claiming to be a luxury model. That will be where you can set up and operate from. Pick up is in two hours. Have your gear with you and ready." The sentence was punctuated by a long drag off his cigarra.

Motioning carefully at his pack on his back, a slight smile would be on his face "Never thought I would get a job from a literal ghost." the last word being almost too soft for even the client to hear unassisted "Two hours, I'll be there. I need not remind you of my disclaimer. You double-cross me, and there will be some interesting news stories popping up, as I know if I attempt to double-cross you, they might find my remains in a dump in an eon." delivered in a neutral tone, it was not a threat at all, just a friendly reminder, and with that, he would nod, and stand up slowly, making his way out of the Folly, and beginning the misleading route back to his hideaway that was now second nature to him.

He glanced over at the man as he spoke, taking a slightly longer pull from the cigarra. "I don't believe in ghosts. And they'd never find the remains." Not because he was so good at hiding bodies, but disintegration tended to ensure people were dead. When the man was gone, he finished his beer, paid his tab, and left. Much as he was sure the contractor would, he wandered about the neighborhood, ensuring to the best of his abilities that he was not being followed.

A few moments after leaving, there would come a familiar set of sounds to the ears of the Client. the sound of blaster bolts being exchanged, one set of a lower pitch followed by the sound of exploding chunks of rock and mortar, and then a single, higher pitch than he would be accustomed to, followed by a *thunk* of a heavy object hitting the ground, and then blessed silence. stepping back into the shadows of the walls, Jason would wait and see who would come to investigate the noise, ready to end them if necessary, he did not need people tracking him right now.

As Dagon had told him, this was not the sort of neighborhood where people got overly interested in anyone's business. No one came to look, and no one was following Jason.

Soon as it was clear no one was coming to investigate, it would take only moments for Jason to strip the person of his ID, and other such robbery-valued items. in a soft whisper, more to himself than aloud "Should have stayed back at the school, you never were really all that bright in a street situation." and with that done, he would continue his walk.

Captain Dagon Tong sat in what had become his current command speeder. Much like any other large speeder cruising the Cormond streets near the outskirts, where he sat in the driver's seat, smoking a cigar. At current, they were parked, so he could glance back at what had been the free lance technician they had recruited to run the slicing for this little outing. He was curious to see if the man was worth the asking price. Because if he was, his men should have no problem getting inside, planting the charges, pacing off the high profile targets, and walking out. If he was not as good as advertised, then shooting would start, quiet possibly in this very speeder.

Sergeant Major Rake Carson felt stiff and uncomfortable in his 'used' uniform. It was obviously tailored for their prisoner, and Rake was just a little bit larger than that man. The uniform was obscenely tight around his midsection, and lifting his arms farther than his head would probably result in a very embarrassing moment. If anybody asked him, he would say his baggage was lost on the transport, and he had ended up with a smaller uniform. He did not think, though, that anybody was going to ask an Imperial Commando officer anything, much less why his uniform did not fit. Rake compensated for this discomfort by chain smoking cigarras and thinking about other, more pleasant things. This list was rather long, and included such illustrious items as kissing a Hutt, or eating bantha fodder. Without elaborating any further, it could be said that Rake just was not too happy. He was armed as the commando lieutenant had been. In fact, he was using the Lieutenant's weapons. If, by freak chance, he got inspected by some Captain, the serial numbers would even match. He had a DH-17 and an E-11. Of course, he had other things, but these were personal. They were rather uncomfortably concealed beneath the already too snug uniform. Rake was sitting in the back seat of the speeder, waiting for his 'PFC' to drive them through the gate, which was but a few hundred yards distant "Jace, stay calm, keep your mouth shut, and let me do the talking. If you have to separate from me, act arrogant about your job as my bodyguard, and snub your nose at any rank less than Staff Sergeant. Act indignant at the gate and just kind of nod back, but don't say a damn word. We clear?"

Running his icy green eyes over the heavily modified data board that was almost always in his possession, the formerly freelance slicer and tech would briefly look over the codes the client had given him, entering everything into a very carefully self-crafted spike. Out of habit, his left hand would reach down and touch the ever so heavily modified heavy blaster pistol concealed at his side. Military types always had a tendency of putting him on edge. After verifying everything was as ready as he could make it, he would sit back, and close his eyes, relaxing as much as he could for the delicate work about to start once he had access to a dataport.

Dagon sat watching the man as he worked, before he picked up his comlink, sending a quick message to his executive officer. "Carson, leave Jace with the vehicle, go it alone. This way there are no surprises in transpo during exfil." He spoke between drags off his cigarra, his eyes trailing back to the tech for a moment. "They're almost there." Keeping the man updated. Dagon was no techie, beyond basic literacy, but he knew that it was nice to be updated as a situation progressed. Made the job easier, no matter what the job was.

"Of course." He spoke a vague answer. They were passing the gate, now, and the Imperials just waved them through. One look at his uniform and they knew it was best not to question him. He sat with his back straight, assuming that aura of importance that officers usually did. The guards had directed Jace to the headquarters building, so that Rake could check in, and the vehicle came to rest in front of the central command center. Rake exited, moving towards the door, but stopping outside to smoke a cigarra. As he did so, he monitored the distance to every major facility from his centralized location, and their general direction. That would be important later. He stomped out his cigarra and went inside and approached the officer of the day:: "Excuse me, Lieutenant. I'm Lieutenant Ohmer Wilton, and I require billeting. Can you direct me to the SB2?"

Nodding with his eyes still closed, Jason would be reviewing the systems he already knew after spending a few years as a 'guest.' Upon reaching the dataport, his green eyes would snap open, and with a carefully measured walk, he would head right for it, looking exactly like a tech doing routine maintenance in a bored fashion. However, that was all a facade, even with the Client watching his back, Jason preferred to monitor his surroundings himself as to not be caught off guard. It would take only a few moments for him to examine the port, and then select the correct tool to open it up from the concealed pocket in his jacket. Once the port was opened, he would carefully slip the spike in, letting it download the viral program to access the imperial network, using the access codes he had been given. Only a few moments would be needed before he smiled, and the spike would send in the new information and force a system update, entering the crafted entries and accesses for the agent to have a basically clear run of the base "Your man has about eight hours before that update will have to be redone with new codes, I hope he knows what he is doing." in a even, calm, level tenor voice.

Dagon had little to do at this point. He could only sit, listen to the chatter coming in from the base's scrambled frequencies that the tech had filtering over the speakers in the back, and listen for a distress call from his men, though if one came, he was not sure there was alot they could do about it. That was the dangerous part about small units doing their own recon. So for now, he waited, and listened.

The Imperial Lieutenant nodded to Lieutenant Wilton, and looked down the corridor to get his bearings. "You can find Captain Turana in section 27-F," he said with a crisp nod, before he turned his attention to the next group of personnel heading his way. It was an eternally busy job with a seemingly endless line of personnel moving past his station by the hour.

Rake nodded curtly at the Officer of the Day, saluting him to remind him to render honors to superior officers in the future. Turning on his heel without waiting for or giving any sort of response, he made down the hallway to section 27-F. He stopped at the hatchway he had been directed to, and adjusting his cover on his head and shifting his briefcase to his left hand, he went inside. He scanned the room for Captain Turana, who proved to be easy to locate as Rake had expected him to be. Approaching him, he stopped eighteen inches from his desk and came to a perfect position of attention, rendering a parade ground salute to the Captain:: "Sir! Lieutenant Ohmer Wilton reporting! I've been assigned to this garrison, advance party for my platoon of commandos. I will require the rooms to house them and myself, as well as a weapons card. My men will not be bringing their own munitions, sir."

With the programs in place, Jason would set it for an extremely low power, hyper-prime encrypted link to his databoard, remove the spike, and close the panel to the port. Making sure to clean up any prints or electronic signatures left by the tools, he would get back into the speeder with the Client, and begin monitoring the network for possible problems. Jason's uncanny sixth sense for trouble was not going off yet, but being caught off guard was definitely not on his agenda for today. All he could do now, is wait for something to come up and cause a problem his skills could mitigate or alleviate.

Dagon looked over at the tech with the same look he gave everyone. About as cold and empty as it got. But it was still one that spoke volumes. It was clearly, you are not done until my men are in the clear. "You finished?" Was all that he actually said. But he hadn't heard anything distressing as of yet, so he remained at least non-confrontational with the man.

Captain Turana turned his attention to his computer and punched in the data and nodded his head as the information seemed to come up. Or at least the information that Corporal Athol's spike would present on his screen. "Ah. Yes. Here it is..." he said with a quick nod as he swiveled the chair back to whom he thought was an Imperial officer. "If you would like to inspect the armory while I arrange for your lodging I can have someone escort you," he said as he opened the file that contained the current living assignments.

"That would be excellent, sir. If you're short handed, I can go myself. It's going to take some time. I have over 300 rifles to inspect, and they all require a full breakdown. I will, though, need someone to show me the way, no matter the choice. I've not yet familiarized myself with the spaces. Also, I need to turn my speeder into base maintenance. It was damaged en route. If you don't mind, sir." Carson saluted again and made his way toward the door. He continue outside, where they entered his speeder. Jace drove them to base maintenance under direction of their guide, where, as Rake had expected, the vehicle was placed at the back of the workload. It would be several hours before the maintainers got around to it. They did at least assign a new speeder to the group, which the enlisted man had to sign for, as the Lieutenant's name had not yet been given speeder access. Driving to the armory took no time, and the enlisted man was good enough to leave the speeder with Carson and Jace. Rake smiled at him and told him to take the day off for his troubles, and to tell his boss that Rake had, after all, required his services at the armory. This earned him a glowing smile and a thousand thank you sirs, which Rake modestly disregarded. Dismissing the young Corporal, he turned to the armory. Showing his identification, he was directed to the rack room, where his men's assigned weaponry was neatly placed in armorer's racks. He was issued the keycode, and the racks were unlocked. Methodically and with practiced hand, Rake began to individually break down the rifles. When he came to the power cell, Rake very carefully swapped each one with a specialized cell from his attaché case. He had just over 50 cells, each one containing heavy Baradium and a comlink receiver/transmitter. Whenever he triggered them, they would blow the armory clear to the Outer Rim. As he worked, Rake fired up his private comlink with Tong "The platoon has quarters, and weapons. I'm rigging them, now."

Turning to face the Client, Jason would return the stare equally. His form is not exactly relaxed, but not worried, his tone staying in that even-neutral tenor "The programs are in, I am monitoring the network from here." a quick tap to the databoard "Until something goes wrong, I can't do much else than sit here, as are you. It's up to your man now to play the part." and with that, Jason would return to watching both his surroundings, and the board, waiting for something to come up, if anything would. His usual precision in his crafting should prevent most problems that could come up from the injected data. He would also check on the progress of his finder program, and watch as it carefully uploaded choice informational bits into the data storage crystal for analysis at a later time, by piggybacking on the Imperial's own broadcasting signals. Every single data file and database that had potentially useful information would be copied, compressed, and transmitted without anyone being aware it was done. And if some happy-go-luck overeager Imperial tech did happen to notice anything, it would look like the normal garbage being swapped around from system to system in an endless, normal conversation.

"He'll play the part." Confident in Carson, if for no other reason than that he believed Carson had much the same survival drive. He paid another glance to the tech as he reached into his vest pocket, just inside his jacket, and produced a fresh pack of cigarras. He took one, and then offered one to the tech as he lit his. If the man smoked, lucky him, free cigarras. If not, Dagon would replace the pack in his vest, and continue listening to the comm chatter. He did not think this had been too easy, mostly because they had kidnapped two people and interrogated them thoroughly for the information that got them inside. Now was just a matter of executing the plan.

Rake had finished with the weapons, and he closed and locked the rack room. He approached the armorer and asked for a map of the base, which he was given. He thanked the man and left, getting in the speeder with Jace, whom he directed via the map to the support personnel gym. Thankfully, the gym was shared by both command staff and all other support personnel not assigned to the combat wing. Rake moved straight to the locker room and waited by the sonic showers, where he sat as though in line to get an open locker. When he saw a solitary maintainer enter the shower area, he snatched the mans coveralls, placed them in his attaché case, and immediately left the building a different way than he had come. He made his way back to the speeder and ordered Jace to take him to the officers quarters, where he changed into the coveralls in the confines of his new room. Before leaving the room, he destroyed the mirror with his boot, tore the mattress with his vibroblade, busted one of the windows, and burned the wall with a high temperature cutter. He filled out the work report sheet that was on the desk, and stuffed it into the pocket of his coveralls. Carson then made his way back to the speeder, and told Jace to deliver him to the central maintenance facility.

Waving off the offer neutrally, his attention was dual focused on his environment, and his databoard. Now that he was in his element, he was all business, and would remain so until the job was done, or circumstance forced him out of it, which usually meant his pistol would be doing the talking for him. These kinds of jobs could get rather nasty very fast, as the blaster scar on his shoulder, hidden under the jacket, would reveal.

A lot of people might have found the hours that stretched on as Rake planted explosives and committed various other acts of sabotage boring. And though Dagon smoked through out it, he was not bored. Every all clear radio call from every sentry was another step in the right direction. The closer to detonation everything remained stagnant, without any notification that there had been a police action at the garrison, was just closer to seeing a fireball reach into the sky.

Rake arrived at the maintenance facility after a rather arduous drive through the poorly constructed prefabricated roads of the garrison, and he could have kissed the durasteel deck when he dismounted. Snatching the emergency tool kit out of the speeder, he slipped the variable gas emitters into the bag and walked casually toward the maintenance entrance. He had memorized the facilities map, despite his playing stupid in front of imperials, and knew that it would not look right for a maintainer to be seen referring to a map in order to reach his assignment. He made his way straight to the central ventilator filter, through which the entire garrison received its ventilation. He punched in a generic access code and stood by the door until he saw a maintainer enter, then memorized the access number. He waited ten minutes for the man to leave the facility, keeping himself busy by splicing electrical wires along the bulkhead. When the man left, he calmly finished his 'repair' before approaching the door and punching in the numbers. Using the tools from the bag, he opened the filter inspection panels and placed the variable gas emitters on the outgoing side. He then removed one of the filters, and replaced all the grates. Accessing the imperial system with his stolen code, he made note of the maintenance and listed that particular filter as down. He then left the facility and returned to his speeder. Ordering Jace to the barracks again, Rake changed back into the Lieutenants uniform and stuffed the coveralls in a corner of the closet wadded into a ball, which he dutifully recorded on the work report that he had received for the room inspection. Rake then proceeded to call the SB2 office on the comm, and requested that the Captain personally come inspect this heinous room, and after a lengthy argument, got the man to acquiesce to his wishes. It was obvious that the Captain did not believe the room could be so thoroughly destroyed upon receipt. Hanging up, Rake called Tong to report: "Emitters are in place, weapons are rigged. We're about to get the Captain." Rake hit his comlink again, and ordered Jace to go do his bit at the fuel pits. He stated compliance, and then drove the speeder to the pits, where he dutifully refueled the vehicle, as well as placed a case of thermal detonators inside the fuel cells.

Looking over at the Client, Jason would wait to see what they would be doing now, his finger poised over the button to send the self-destruct commands to the programs, so that if anyone managed to retrieve the datacores, they find no evidence of it being anything but an inside job. Which is how it should be. Simple, neat, and totally clean.

"Copy that. Chronometer's ticking." Tong replied into his com, his eyes sweeping about his atmosphere again. Not that they'd be bothered. It was time to move again anyway. He started the speeder, and moved them a few blocks, so as to not draw any lingering glances, while still keeping them with the necessary range for the technical aspect of the operation to continue on without a hitch. It shouldn't be long now before Carson was in the clear, extra cargo in the trunk, and they were all back to the safe house.

Captain Turana groaned unpleasantly as he received the message through the comlink, assuming the spoiled Storm Commando was complaining because of a scuff mark on the floor. "Very well. Meet me outside of the barracks," he annoying replied through the comlink. He preferred dealing with members of the 'regular' Army and briskly made his way through the winding, narrow corridors of the base shifting his way through an unending sea of personnel hurriedly going about their business. As he approached the barracks he gave a sharp nod to the poseur Imperial officer and let out a tired sigh, moving swiftly towards the assigned room. As he opened the door and witnessed the horror inside his face turned visibly white, his eyes widening, and his mouth hanging slightly ajar. He had never seen anything like this before, and was preparing to turn around to sound an alarm. Clearly, there were vandals at work.

Jace was pulling up in the speeder as the Captain came into the barracks. He backed up next to the broken window of Carson's newly issued room, and opened the trunk. He made it look like he was digging for something as he sat there, searching the trunk for some elusive tool. Rake, on the other hand, waited calmly for the Captain to enter the room from behind the door. As the man came in, Rake closed and locked it, then rapidly placed his right arm around the man's neck, positioning his elbow to come to a point directly in front of the Captain's Adam's apple. He began to squeeze, and as his muscles tensed, they put pressure on the carotid artery and jugular vein, which effectively stopped all blood flow to and from the Captain's brain. It also prohibited the man from speaking, as no air could enter or exit his lungs and the vocal cords were stretched to the breaking point by the bilateral pressure from Rake's arm. To expedite this process, Rake placed his left forearm on the back of the man's head and pushed, and grasping his left elbow with his right hand for leverage, squeezed his grip even tighter around his neck. To prevent the likely struggle of the Captain, he kicked the man's knee out and began to walk rapidly backwards. The captain was out cold by the time Rake tossed him through the window to the waiting speeder's trunk. Jace immediately placed binders on the Captain, and gagged him with a sock in his mouth to prevent all noise. The work he'd been doing in the trunk was actually the placement of soundproofing along the seals and the thinner parts of the frame. Soundproofing was a generous term for two blankets adhered to the frame, but it would do the job. Shutting the trunk rapidly, Jace immediately started the speeder, and as soon as Rake was in the passenger seat, he slowly pulled out and casually drove toward the gate "Tong, Carson. We're bringing home a dinner guest."

"Let me know when you're outside the gates. Standard exfil. An hour tour of the town, make sure you didn't pick up any stragglers, then rally at the standard RV." Tong replied, and then glanced over at the tech. "What ever you need to do to erase your tracks, get prepped to do it. Should be ready for you to activate it inside a minute." And then the Captain took another long pull off his cigarra. Atio was going to have a fit when he saw how many officers he had to smuggle off planet. The commando CO found that rather entertaining. The Argo had not exactly been in the thick of it this run, might be good for the man to remember how dangerous a life they led.

At that word, Jason's finger would press the single button, and watch as the programs finish transmitting, then self-destruct without leaving a trace of themselves. A quick double check of the crystal to ensure the data was properly stored, it would then be removed from the databoard, and handed to the client, as previously agreed in the contract they had struck previously. "All yours, I think you will be satisfied with the information on here." still that same neutral, tenor tone, but he was still slightly tense, keeping an eye on the surroundings.

Carson, Jace, and the Captain went through the gate with no troubles, heading for the town for their hour tour. They would take every back road and street they came to, turning at random intervals, with no obvious destination, doubling back, running through traffic signals, squeezing through impossible alleys. The standard method of losing a tail. Rake kept up a constant eye behind them for a tail, giving continuous direction to Jace to ensure proper execution. He flipped his comlink on and contacted Tong to give an update "We're off base, checking for tails. So far so good, no sign of any pickups."

"Good. You're hired. Unless you want to try and walk to a space port when the Empire is about to shut down the entire planet for a day or two." With that, he started the speeder again, and just as Carson was doing, started them around the city for about an hour. And then it was to the warehouse they had converted into something between a safe house, a barracks, and a small prison. The reasoning was simple. He would gladly pay the man what the job was worth, and really had no intention of shooting him, but he would rather keep the man around. Hard to find such a qualified slicer. He doubled back over his tracks one last time to make certain they had not been followed, and then pulled into one of the enclosed loading bays, letting the door shut behind them. Carson should be along any minute. He powered down the speeder, and got out, moving over to one of the work benches that had been left behind by the previous tenants, and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot he'd set up there. After a sip, he took a seat, and unclipped the EE-3, setting it on the bench next to the coffee pot. He was not exactly unarmed, but maybe he was less menacing without the carbine between his knees. Might keep the tech from getting spooked.

Rake ordered Jace back to the warehouse, albeit by a circuitous route. Jace complied, and after about a half hour of lazy eights around town, they finally pulled up tot he garage of the warehouse. Rake jumped out and punched the access code from the remote terminal, and the door whizzed open. THe speeder slipped inside and Rake followed it in, eyeballing the confines of the building before fully committing himself. When he deemed it safe to enter, he stepped inside and closed the outer door of the garage and made his way straight to the trunk of the speeder, which was still powering down. He opened the trunk and removed their prisoner, who started to make noise and writhe around against his binders. Rake delivered a quick chop to the carotid artery, followed by a nearly simultaneous strike to the base of the man's skull with the heel of his hand, which plunged the Captain back into unconsciousness. Rake order Jace to drag the man to the detention cell and to strip him and search him for weapons and bugs. It would be the second search, but it never hurt to be careful.

Now that would earn a frown as he mentions the Empire "Thanks, but not a chance of me leaving with the Imperials around. They already know my face, prefer not to meet their...hospitality" said with a very bitter tone "again. Just tell me where I can set my gear up, what limits I can and can't do, and we'll iron out any other bumps as they come along." with that said, he would calmly pull the modified blaster pistol out, and then expertly disengage and pocket the one valuable component of it, going through the motions of inspecting it with a very practiced air. Looking over at the client for the necessary guidance now.

"Make sure you do an electronic sweep on that man." Dagon said to Jace as the new prisoner was led away. He seemed to not hear Jason's reply for a moment, instead reaching into his thigh pocket and coming up with a data pad, which he tossed to Carson. "I don't believe in splitting trigger and rigger. Blow it." The datapad was keyed into the detonator's frequency, only had to take the key lock off, for which there wasn't a hidden code. Just safe enough to carry around in one's pocket without prematurely detonating anything. He then turned his attention to their new tech again. "Basement's cell house and overflow storage if necessary, grab a spot in the back. As far as limits, don't have Stormtroopers knocking on my door, and that's that. Same idea for setting up a workstation. If you find you need something that you dont have, let me know. Anything else?"

Rake caught the device and grinned at Tong "Don't mind if I do, boss. Gents, keep your eyes on the horizon for today's fireworks show." Rake began to systematically arm and engage all the explosives he had planted on the base.

It would take a moment for Jason to understand that, most people being at best suspicious around him. "Understood, you'll barely know I'm here." and in line with that, he would collect his pack from the speeder, and make his way to find a convenient, out of the way area to set himself up in.

He began with the fuel pits, where the hypermatter and industrial grade fuel was stored, and where he had told Jace to place some 30 pounds of Baradium. That done, he triggered the motor pool, where he had parked the speeder for repairs, placing it neatly between the heaviest vehicles he could find. Not that that would matter, since the 150 pounds of photon grenades and baradium charges would most likely take half the base with it immediately. Without hesitating in his decision, he turned the key on the barracks, which held only 40 photon grenades in his attaché case, left neatly in the closet next to the maintenance coveralls. Hopefully that would kill the officers present. The armory came next, with its 52 baradium power cells that he'd placed in the E-11 rifles he had inspected. And for the final hurrah, he triggered the gas transmitter, which was actually on a timer, and wouldn't begin emitting its Dioxis gas for another three hours, when all the remaining personnel in town had been recalled and were on duty in the sealed environment "This should be ugly."

The explosion began inside the fuel pits, the baradium combining with the industrial grade fuel to create a massive explosion whose shockwave could not be contained by the structure it was contained in. Seeming to tear away from the rest of the base that part of the compound erupted in a massive fireball, that soon began raining down burning fuel over the entire garrison base along with a fair amount of shrapnel. Inexperienced officers and personnel had never expected such a thing and were caught horribly off guard by the suddenness of it all. Only moments later officers who had been talking about the weather found their skin being melted off by the burning fuel that splashed upon their skin. There were flaming bodies running in most directions, having failed to remember their safety drills. The fortunate were the ones whom the shrapnel killed instantly. But, this was but the first of the explosions that would rock the base.

Inside the motor pool a team of lowly paid, uneducated, and generally low-class mechanics were servicing the multitude of vehicles that kept this Repulsorlift Battalion operational. Having not heard the first explosion because of the loud Jizz music they were blasting during their maintenance, they never suspected that their garrison was under attack. A moment later the photon grenades exploded inside the speeder, causing the vehicle to disintegrate almost instantly. When combined with the baradium the explosion increased in magnitude and blastered a might hole in the roof of the large structure that stored their vehicle. The technicians looked at each other in disbelief as the concussion from the blast knocked them to their feet. Those closest to the speeder were seemingly vaporized, with only their durable boots left as evidence they ever existed. The structural damage caused the facility to shake and gradually the roof began to collapse. The majority of technicians were pancaked by the sudden fall of the heavy, durasteel covering, most of whom could not even hear it as the initial blast had ruptured their ear drums. Most of the vehicles had been damaged beyond repair, with several secondary explosions, as the immense weight of the roof crushed down upon them.

The explosions in the barracks and nearby armory came next. The armor was relatively empty and when the baradium charges inside the E-11 blaster rifles began to detonate the reinforced structure that once seemed impenetrable from without began to explode from within. An enormous cache of weapons had been instantly vaporized, but the structural integrity of the armory soon gave out and caused the building to tilt slightly to the right before it came crashing down in a smoldering wreck. It was another total loss. Inside the refresher of the barracks, a young Imperial Trooper sat in a stall, enjoying one of the only moments of privacy he would get that day. Inside the stall he was reading a dirty magazine and enjoying himself when the 40 photon grenades suddenly exploded, the shockwave unhinged the door causing it to fall directly atop the young man, killing him with his pants down around his ankles. Similar scenes played out throughout the barracks as countless Imperial officers and other personnel were vaporized by the initial blast, while others suffered a more horrifying fate of being trapped behind doors that would not open once the power went our, horribly burning to death in fires the automatic system could no longer put out. There were cries and screams in the darkness at every corner. It was too much to stand. Men who were once the Empire's finest cried out for their mothers. One man trapped beneath a fallen beam that severed both his legs could not stand the pain, grabbing his sidearm and killing himself to end the horror. The majority of the 35th Repulsorlift Battalion that were inside the base were dead or dying.

Several hours had passed and there had not been much improvement at what was once a pristine example of Imperial prefabricated construction. A triage had been set up, but there were too many to treat and men who had only minor injuries were beginning to expire merely because a medic could not get to them in time. Many of the battalion's personnel that had been on duty in Cormond had begun to return, along with many of the local civilians who had come based solely on the sheer horror of the explosion they had seen, heard, and felt from their nearby homes. It was an act of terror the likes of which the people of Brentaal had never before seen.

It was only then that the Dioxis would begin pumping through the ventilation system of the base, catching a weary and unsuspecting populace completely off guard. Most believed the attacks were over so that when the green-white gas began to circulate many believed it was smoke from one of the many fires spread throughout the structure. But then, the bodies began to fall. The young women who had come to help bandage the soldiers first, then the injured began to expire, their bodies to weak to cry in pain. Experienced soldiers then fell, leaving no life left within the once bustling installation. Nearly an entire battalion had seen its end in the horrors of the base that day. The war had changed.

Dagon sat for a while, watching the explosions through a window, before he seemed to remember something, and so with coffee cup in hand, he stood up and headed towards the rear of the warehouse. It was not hard to find their new recruit there, and so he came to stop a few feet away from the man. After a sip of coffee, he lowered the cup long enough to speak. "Welcome to the Rebellion's Cuy'Val Dar." And with that, he walked off again, headed down into the basement to have a talk with their new guest.

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