Solar Flare: Mission Into the Sun

[Khendon Sevon]

“Harbinger” was his nickname. He was tall and slender, like most stormguardsmen candidates, and built like a brick wall. His muscles were fluid and well defined, yet not preposterously large. Instead, he was lean and healthy looking.

Like all elite Imperial soldiers, he shaved his head. It was tradition, after all, for guardsmen to either go bald or style the center into a neat Mohawk.

Jonathan “Harbinger” Brigs wore light, non-reflective matte armor that contoured to his build. He was strictly business, as was the mean-looking rifle hanging from a shoulder holster dangling next to his left flank.

The Imperial shuttle was coated in special operations black for the occasion—more tradition. It really wouldn’t do anything with sensors, but there was a certain feeling of stealth with such a paint job.

Sergeant Brigs waited at the yawning mouth of the shuttle and looked at the chrono on his naked left hand. “Where is that son of a bantha,” he mumbled in the mild morning wind.

[Gran Davrak]

Gran Davrak, self-righteous, self-confident, self-serving, self-proclaimed Sith Lord... if there was any trend to be found in Darth Malivous's life, it was the word 'self.' He cared for himself, and nothing more.

No, this was not entirely true. While Gran Davrak was certainly the most important thing to Gran Davrak, there was something else: there was the Empire, and there was the Force. These, perhaps, were the only things that Gran would ever make sacrifice for, and then only to the extent of furthering his own influence and power therein. Still, when a sacrafice was to be made, a sacrafice was to be made. Today was no different.

Gran jumped down from one the roof of one of Thyferra's smaller buildings, his cape flailing in the wind as he touched the ground. He was only late by one standard minute, but purposely so - it was meant to be a subtle display of his own skill. He intended to have as much control of this mission as he could get. It was, after all, a test of his skills, not those of Sergeant Brigs.

"Don't get your engines in a bind, Sergeant. I'm ready when you are."

[Khendon Sevon]

Harbinger gave one of the deep frowns he was named for and exploded, “Listen, Scar Face, when I say jump, I mean jump! You were supposed to be here a standard minute ago, that’s a full minute! You’re not so convoluted you don’t understand standard time, eh, Scar Face?

“Now, get your armored behind on that shuttle and don’t you give me lip! I’ve spent too much time with rookies and seen too many faces taken off by shrapnel to put up with your fodder. This is a baby sitting mission, pure and simple.

“Now git!” His face was red with anger now and a stiff hand clenched a conveniently placed combat knife out of habit.

[Gran Davrak]

"You have no need to worry about my face being removed by shrapnel. It already happened."

The Stormguardsman was trying to get Gran worked up. Gran, however, had lived through horrible disfigurement and years of hospitalization, only to be immediately cast out from society. There was nothing this Stormguardsman could do or say to make him break.

"Let's go then."

He stepped into the ship, allowing the Stormguardsman to follow after. There was a hiss as the boarding ramp closed, and Gran looked back at Brigs.

"So what, exactly, is this "baby-sitting mission" all about?"

[Khendon Sevon]

Brigs huffed out his last bit of fresh air and soaked up the recycled garbage that was passed off as oxygen. “We’re finding out as soon as we hit hyperspace, my suit’s harddrive has a message from the Executor stored in an encrypted file.”

Harbinger had seemingly calmed down. The storm of his emotional fury had passed.

“Let’s get this death trap off the ground. You know how to pilot?” The cockpit was cluttered with technical consoles and miscellaneous devices of unimaginable purposes.

[Gran Davrak]

Gran glanced uncertainly at the controlls to the shuttle. He had traveled a few times, but never as a pilot.

"I've never been trained to fly. Looks like you'll have to get us there, Brigs."

Stepping into the cockpit, he took a seat in the copilot's chair. He could learn something by watching, at least.

[Khendon Sevon]

This was rapidly becoming a joke. The man couldn’t even pilot a shuttle and was about to be told to go on one of Khendon’s patented crazy missions. If Harbinger didn’t die, it would be by luck alone.

He had been lucky before. The soldier showed no signs of the baggage in his mind. Rather, he strolled over and took the pilot’s chair. With a rapid flipping of switches, hitting of keys, and some help from his neural interface, he activated the repulsor and kicked in the burners.

Instant acceleration has its ups and downs. The up, it gets you out of flak fast, the downs, your body was not designed for it. It took a full second for the dampeners to kick in and cut back on the sudden doubling of gravity—just enough time for Harbinger’s prepared head to weigh heavily against his crash cushioning.

As soon as the shuttle met the dark expanses of space, Brigs set the engines to overdrive and allowed his suit to pump in coordinates for their jump. In a flash of energy and speed, the shuttle passed through the open jaws of hyperspace and accelerated beyond light speed.

[Gran Davrak]

Gran was momentarily pinned to the back of his seat as the shuttle accelerated. Shuttles were generally not designed for such treatment, and it was a full second before the inertial compensators kicked in. Moments later, the shuttle, and all aboard, were hanging in the limbo of hyperspace.

He turned toward the Stormguardsman, his muffled, almost metalic voice betraying no hint of emotion. Years of social discontent would do that to someone.

"Alright, Brigs. We're in hyperspace. Will you tell me what this is all about now?"

He knew it was a mission, and that he was being watched very closely. Beyond that, he was clueless.

[Khendon Sevon]

Harbinger remotely connected his suit to the ship’s holoprojector and accessed the play function. Within moments, a blue-hued hologram of the Executor project itself on a small, disk-like surface protruding from one of the walls.

“My Dark Apprentice,” spoke the clear words of the Imperial, “I have a test of your abilities and loyalty. This quest will take you to the nearby star of Kyavesh.”

A grin formed on the Executor’s face—there was a tinge of wickedness in his visage. “There, a ship is nearing completion. It is vital to the Empire that you procure this vessel and return it to coordinates imbedded in this message.

“You will be taking this craft from an Imperial admiral; however, remember that you are serving the greater good. This vessel must be brought into Executorial hands so that its powers can be fully exploited against the rebels. Admiral Talla is weak and foolish.

“Do this, and then I will begin to reveal the secrets of the Force to you. You are already strong, My Apprentice. Soon, you will be invincible!” The hologram faded.

[Gran Davrak]

Gran watched in silence as the image of the Executor faded. He looked up at Sgt. Brigs, popping his knuckles as he spoke, his voice as cold and emotionless as ever.

"A class-A giant, an entire imperial military unit... Sounds like fun. "

There was a sudden lurch as the ship exited hyperspace. A very short trip indeed.

"We're here." He pointed out the obvious. "Let's get started."

Standing, he left the Stormguardsman to land the ship and headed toward the launch ramp. The less time between landing and disembarkment, the better.

[Khendon Sevon]

Harbinger grunted in annoyance. He wasn’t going to land the damned shuttle anywhere near that sun. In fact, getting near the space station would bring the full force of a wind of TIE fighters on the shuttle’s tail—no matter how great of a pilot he was, he couldn’t take on 72 craft with one intent (his destruction).

Brigs brought the shuttle into a wide bank and began calculating landing trajectories for the nearby planet of Tryenoble. It was a snow planet, cool and far enough away from the star that it wouldn’t draw attention. There was even an Imperial base they could land; but, he thought it better if they dock somewhere civilian.

No. No. He would land far enough away from a settlement that attention wasn’t attracted. That was a good plan.

The shuttle entered the planet’s thick atmosphere and instantly took on turbulence. The craft was buffeted by frozen air pockets and strong winds—not a resort location, obviously.

The black painted craft landed snugly in a snow bank and was almost instantly covered in white powder from the patch disturbed by the descent.

[Gran Davrak]

Gran stepped from the shuttle into the snowy plains of Tryenoble, looking around discontently. He preferred a more direct approach - as wreckless as that may be.

"And how do we get there frome here?"

[Khendon Sevon]

Harbinger stepped out next to Gran. He wore long, warm looking robes over his armor and a winter face-mask. The loose clothing hid the deadly weapons that he carried and concealed them well from prying eyes.

“There’s a village twenty clicks north, that’s a while’s walk, but the conditions are favorable.” A chilled wind swept over the dunes of snow from the east and sent sprays into the air. The single sun shone brightly in the white sky; yet, its warmth was nonexistent.

The snow mounds seemed to go on for eternity into the endless horizon. Brigs placed one gaiter-guarded, snow-shoed foot onto the white fluff, sank in a bit, and then placed the next firmly down. “Let’s go, I don’t want to be around when it gets dark and cold.” It was already 30 below, but that was warm compared to night.

[Gran Davrak]

The Stormguardsman couldn't see it, but Darth Malivous was smiling beneath his mask. He hated stalling, and was glad to see that there would be none.

"Good. That's the kind of talk I like to hear." He gazed into the distance for a moment. "Let's go."

The two began their travel. The snow was deep - nearly three feet in places. While the Stormguardsman made good speed with his snow shoes, Gran was forced to make the journey on pure manpower. Still, he had survived nearly his entire life on pure manpower, and was having little difficulty now.

[Khendon Sevon]

Internal mapping software projected telemetry onto Harbinger’s snow mask. Coordinates, tracking satellites, and beacons all came together into a single, easily digestible display.

The soldier kept to himself, deciding better than to offer the man any help. A thin water tube kept the stormguardsman hydrated, something of extreme importance when so much exertion was occurring, even in a cold, wet environment.

The party of two made good time, better than Harbinger had thought they would be able to make with only one pair of snowshoes.

“One more click,” grunted the trooper, “you’re taking it from here. What do you want to do?”

[Gran Davrak]

Gran stopped and thought for a moment.

"Obviously, the plan here is to go unnoticed. We should try to hide our path from here, they won't travel this far to find our footprints." He thought for a second more. "We go to the other side of the village and enter there. Minimize their chances of finding our shuttle. We leave no link to Executor Sevon in this operation."

[Khendon Sevon]

Harbinger nodded slowly, “very well. What about once we’re inside the town?” Of course the stormguardsman knew exactly what he would do. He had been trained to think strategically and dissect situations and had specialized knowledge on the subject.

This was Gran’s test, not his. He kept reminding himself of that fact and held a tight lip.

[Gran Davrak]

"It's simple. We can't get to Kyavesh without a ship, so we steal a ship." He sent a glance toward the Stormguardsman. "A ship with a lot of guns."

Without waiting for further conversation, he began moving, taking careful measures to cover up their tracks.

"It'll be slow moving now. I suggest we get started."

He said nothing, but a simple glance at the setting sun told Brigs what was on Gran's mind. Without another word, he resumed his path around the village.

[Khendon Sevon]

Cold breath formed billows as the two trudged through the thick snow. The biting wind kept Harbinger’s shoulders shrugged in an attempt to dampen the icy touch. He would be happy when this whole ordeal was over—even happier if he were alive at its completion.

The stormguardsman checked his rifle’s functionality through his remote link. Weapon circuitry was notoriously untrustworthy in subzero temperatures.

Blanch bank after blanch bank added to the tempest of snow that sifted over the two wanderers. The sky had darkened to a bruised plum color—not a good sign.

“Almost there,” mumbled Brigs.

Finally. The large town’s huddle of lights became visible over the next towering dune. It was a warming sight, if only to the cockles of Harbinger’s heart.

[Gran Davrak]

The last bit of daylight was fading as the two wanderers approached the gates to the village. By the time they had made their way inside, there was no trace of the sun in the sky over head.

"This is it, Brigs. Now let's find a good ship."

The two walked silently through the village, unnoticed by all. Not that there was anyone around to see them - this village was obviously the early-to-bed type. After a few minutes, a large, black building came into view, contrasting immensly with the surrounding houses.

Gran stopped.

"You have imperial codes to enter a base, correct?"

[Khendon Sevon]

Harbinger shook his, “Why would I have the codes? The Admiral doesn’t particularly like the Executor.” One of the stormguardsman’s hands darted beneath his heavy robes and retrieved his blaster rifle. He indicated it with a nod and smiled satisfactorily underneath his mask.

[Gran Davrak]

Gran returned the Stormguardsman's smile, though neither could be seen. While having codes would surely have made acquiring a capable ship much easier, Gran would have no qualms with Brigs's suggestion. Moreover, he would enjoy it very much.

Reaching down, he casually unsheathed his vibrosword, leaving it the "off" position for the moment. The vibroblade's hum would see them shot down before they even reached the first stormtrooper - or, at least, shot at. Such a risk, regardless of its outcome, was unnecessary.

"I suggest we get started."

[Khendon Sevon]

The soldier’s programmed mind began cutting the situation into manageable chunks. Like a machine, he digested the recorded information and spit out possible solutions to the inherent problems.

No windows. That’s always a difficulty. It’s tricky to enter a building from the door. Other solutions, though, are possible.

Cameras at the main entrance, probably embedded turrets somewhere linked to a defensive network—more tricks for the unwary.

Estimated contingent of twenty plus stormtroopers, depends on how important the base is.

A black gloved hand tore off the weather-mask and replaced it with a combat helmet similar to the stormguardsman’s model. This one only differed in lightness of material. Of course, to match Harbinger’s garb, the new headgear was black with a single, pulsating, red eye.

The trooper threw aside his robe (the material metabolized to prevent later identification of its wearer), exposing his winter-weather combat armor and the varying weapons strapped to the exo-shell. “My suggestion,” spoke his filtered voice, “is that we enter through vents located on the roof.

“They’ll probably have pressure sensors, though, and camera systems. Any ideas, boss? Maybe you can use some of your Force magic, eh?” He smirked and checked his pistol’s silencing and suppressing system.

[Gran Davrak]

Gran thought for a moment before responding.

"No. You're right, the Empire will have the vents very well guarded. That method has been used far too many times for them to take chances."

He thought for another minute or two, piecing his ideas together.

"We enter through the sewers. All buildings have a waste management system of some sort, and security is usually weakest within them. My bet is that they have, at most, a few automated sentries, and maybe a dianoga or two."

He glanced around, looking for an entrance to the sewer systems. After a moment, he spotted a small manhole. Raising a hand, he indicated the entrance to his companion.

"We can enter there." He glanced back at the Stormguardsman. "You have any problem wading through there, Brigs?"

[Khendon Sevon]

The stormguardsman grunted and shook his head and went over to examine the manhole. Like most, the seal had a single encrypted swipe for access. With a flick of a wrist, the trooper accessed the card reader and rapidly decrypted the civilian device.

A putrid smell somehow made its way through Harbinger’s filter as the seal slid back without a sound. Steam rose from whatever contents were flowing through the dark space below.

The trooper jumped in. His voice floated out, muffled by the sound of his splash, “Looks like we’re in knee deep, now.”

[Gran Davrak]

"Heh. Not so bad."

Gran jumped in after the Stormguardsman, his cape again flailing behind him as he fell. The water splashed loudly as he landed. It was then that he noticed the metaphor behind Brigs' words - Gran Davrak, 6'8" tall, had bodily excretions up to his chest. He sighed.

"Knee-deep, indeed."

Arms held above his head, both in an effort to streamline his movement through the water and to keep his blade clean, he began to move in the general direction of the base.

"Stay sharp, Brigs. There could be-"

He was cut off by the sharp sounds of blaster fire as he turned a corner. Thinking fast, he ducked under the water, activating his vibroblade and chucking it at one of two small ceiling-mounted sentries as he did so. It collided with the machine, sending sparks into the water below, along with large bits of debris. Meanwhile, the other sentry kept firing, and Gran was unarmed.

Hopefully, Brigs would take it before Gran needed to breathe.

[Khendon Sevon]

A red glow highlighted the threat as it appeared. With the first sufficiently quashed by Gran’s lucky lob, only a single sentry turret remained.

The first crimson spark of muzzle fire had brought Harbinger’s rifle snuggly into his shoulder and leveled at the threat. With a relaxed squeeze, three bolts of energy slammed into the remaining defensive weapon and turned it into a smoldering lump of slag.

“Well, that was overly dramatic. No need to get a mouthful of the filth pervading every corner of this sewer. How about I take point from here on?” The soldier shook his head and smirked behind his mask.

[Gran Davrak]

Gran rose from under the water, mouth entirely devoid of filth, and cast a glare toward the Stormguardsman.

"Are you trying to undermine me, Brigs? You may wear a higher rank for the moment, but I have been given charge of this mission."

The Stormguardsman obviously didn't know Gran very well to even ask such a question. Gran looked back at the first turret, using the Force to pull his lodged vibroblade back into his hand, and then looked back at Brigs. He kept a steady glare for more than a few seconds before speaking again.

"I stay on point. This is my mission, a test of my skill, not yours. If a mistake is to be made, it will be me who makes it." Such is the mark of a good leader. Or a foolish soldier.

It wouldn't take long to find out which.

Sheathing his vibroblade, Gran turned, his cape trailing in the water as he pressed onward through the next tunnel.

[Khendon Sevon]

Yeah, it may be your mission, but I value my life. If it came down to it, Harbinger would do what had to be done to survive. This was a wild goose chase, after all. Brigs was certain the Executor simply wanted to kill of the scallywag.

“Whatever you say, Boss.” It was almost monotone. “Your show.”

The soldier relaxed his grip on his rifle and trailed after Gran, making sure to cover the flank in search of would-be pursuers or those worm-like monsters that all too often lived in such filth.