The Buildup (Federacy)

[Khendon Sevon]

Continued from: http://www.swforums.net/forum/showthread.php?s=&threadid=32021

An eruption occurred near the space Hunter was currently flying through. With a fiery entrance the Praetor-class cruiser Crimson Talon burst forth from hyperspace, shedding the remnants of its protective hyperspace lining. A red line ran horizontally on either side of the craft, stripes earned in vicious boarder warfare between pirates and the Federacy.

The vessel's weapons’ ports were open, shields up, reactors primed. The Crimson Talon was an angry watchdog with fangs bared. The beast’s broadside faced The Outlander, the war craft’s targeting systems tracking its movements.

A hailing frequency quickly was brought to life, “Outlander, this is the Federal warship Crimson Talon. You are to adhere to the following course, any and all discrepancies in your vectoring will be considered a threat and shall be dealt with accordingly. The Federal warship Dance of Death will rendezvous with you and provide further information upon your arrival at the defined coordinates.

“Have a good stay in Federacy space. Captain Zyrekvel out,” with that the frequency was closed and the vessel sped forwards, clearing a path for Hunter’s craft.

[Core Mebuff]

Hunter followed accordingly. He wasn't looking for a fight, yet. And he wasn't so sure The Outlander could hold up against something like that.

So the bounty hunter did as he was instructed. But at the same time he kept The Outlander's weapons systems on and ready, should anything go wrong.

[Khendon Sevon]

Commander Blane stood at the forward viewport of the Saint-class tactical carrier Dance of Death, his eyes surveying the elegance of space. Star after precious star was blotted out as hulking, silvery vessels swarmed around the warship, coming to a halt several hundred meters away.

Blane was an Imperial of ancient times. His hands were clasped classically at the small of his back, his suit impeccable. The officer’s hair, although graying, was cleanly cut and combed. The aging commander’s face emanated experience with every wrinkle, every scar. His visage glowed with dedication and determination. Blane, by his men, was known as old Blaster Bolt. The respected officer was called this for his intense glare and the all-knowing stare he used when instructing his men in combat.

The Communication’s Officer was being swamped with verification transmissions from vessel after vessel. “Sir,” said the Officer, “the last of the vessels is approaching, orders?”

Old Blaster Bolt narrowed his eyes and spoke in his deep, booming, demanding voice, “Once verification has arrived from the last craft,” he said, his voice rough from years of service, “send orders for the lot of them to enter our hangars. Inform the Crimson Talon that the last of the stragglers have been picked up and it may pull alongside as escort.”

The Comm. Officer responded with a salute and went about his duties.

[Core Mebuff]

Hunter boarded the ship, he grabbed his blaster pistols and made sure he was well armed. One never knew when trouble would come a-crawlin'.

He stepped off The Outlander's exit ramp and entered a large hangar type room.

It quickly became clear that he wasn't the only one interested in this job. He smiled under his helmet. Nothing like a little competition.

Before them stood an Imp. There were tons more all around, but one stood before the rag-tag group.

[Khendon Sevon]

Captain Zyrekvel stood on the bridge of the Praetor-class cruiser Crimson Talon, eyes narrow as he observed the last of the small freighters enter the vessel he was assigned to guard. “Helm,” said Zyrekvel in his calculated, cool voice, “increase power to the engines, bring us alongside Dance of Death, slight stagger, and match speed,” the captain continued, talking to other officers as he walked along the command deck, “Close all weapons’ ports, bring the reactor just above normal operating output, close the launch bays, warm up the hyperdrive and run a quick systems diagnostics.”

Zyrekvel was an experienced officer, and as such, he would be taking no chances, his vessel would be ready to bare its fangs and spring from its coiled position to destroy any threat to the Saint-class tactical carrier that his vessel now mirrored.

<center>**********</center>

Commander Blane watched as the Crimson Talon pulled alongside his vessel and matched her speed. “Comm., relay to Captain Zyrekvel my appreciation, I’ll be going to the meeting room now, Captain, the helm is yours,” said the commander in his rough voice. An officer walked up to the command chair, saluted Old Blaster Bolt, and took command of the vessel.

Blane proceeded to the meeting room and checked up on the status of the fresh harvest he had just pulled from the murky waters of space. A small console in front of the commander revealed that the bounty hunters and mercenaries were being grouped up by the few stormtroopers in the belly of the Dance of Death. The officers would soon bring the ragtag group to the meeting hall, and Blane began preparing, arranging notes and taking a quick sip of his water.

Two imposing Mobile Infantry officers stood in the rear of the room, wearing full combat gear, their enhancing suits making them look akin to very human like droids. Yes, thought the commander to himself, this will be a very successful endeavor indeed.

[Core Mebuff]

The officer standing before the bounty hunters and mercs motioned for them to follow. Several dozen Stormtroopers kept in tow with the group. It looked like the Imps weren't taking any chances either.

One of them nudged Hunter as he walked along.

"Careful," the bounty hunter said over his back.

The trooper pushed him again, this time harder.

Hunter quickly spun around and punched the Stormtrooper square in the forehead, knocking him unconscious, even through his heavy helmet.

The bounty hunter caught up with the rest of the group as they were being lead into what appeared to be a big conference room. The floor was red carpet and there was a large table in the center of the room. The walls were adorned with paintings, and expensive wall hangings depicting great Imperial leaders and other great Imperial victories in battle.

The rabble was instructed to take a seat and wait patiently.

[Khendon Sevon]

Blane had wanted to make an impression, so he had left the room and ordered his Mobile Infantry officers to follow suit. The room was adorned with images of his victories, a constant reminder to anyone he was in negotiation with that he had won his commandership with a turbolaser, and not from connections within the Empire. Blane was pleased, however, that with the Federacy he didn’t have to deal with the corruption that he had encountered with the Empire.

The room’s lighting was average, the table average, the chairs average. The room was kept simple beyond the images of intense warfare in an effort to demonstrate that the Federacy wasn’t the ornate Empire of old. Commander Blane could already hear the mob inside talking loudly and without heed to who might be listening in.

The commander entered the room, his black Federal issue uniform spotless, collar recently stiffened. As he entered, the two imposing Mobile Infantry officers entered, and the stormtroopers dispersed, heading towards their own security checkpoints. Old Blaster Bolt stood at the head of the table, clearing his voice loudly, eyes surveying the raga band with intense scrutiny.

“I’ll have order,” he demanded with his rough, commanding voice.

[Core Mebuff]

Hunter sat silently as the merc next to him rambled on about some hunt he had been on.

"Will you be quiet, you squealy fool?" Hunter snapped at the mercenary.

In walked a tall Imperial officer, donned in a black uniform.

He demanded order. The group grew silent at his command. Everyone listened intently, waiting for the officer to speak.

[Khendon Sevon]

Blane’s sharp eyes surveyed the room one more time, daring someone to say something. When no one stepped up to his unvoiced challenge, he gave a slight nod of his head and sat in his chair, his eyes darting from each set focused on his own. “You’re probably wondering why you’re here, maybe you’re wondering where here exactly is, and I bet every single one of you wants to know what your doing aboard a Federacy vessel,” began the commander in his rough voice.

“First, I’ll address why you’re on a Federacy vessel,” said Commander Blane, “this is actually the simplest question to answer, you’re on a Federacy vessel because of those credits, formerly in the Federacy treasury, that are now in your accounts!” With this several of the mercenaries grinned, thinking about how they were now 10,000 credits richer.

“However,” continued the commander, “if you think you’re not going to earn those credits, think again. You’re currently deep within Federacy space, specifically in the Delteon sector near the planet Wor Tandell,” Blane’s eyes cut through the rough group of men and women gauging their reactions.

“So, that leaves us with one last question,” said Old Blaster Bolt, “what the hell are you all doing here? Well, I’ll just show you,” with that the commander pressed a key on his console.

The vessel accelerated abruptly and shuddered, entering hyperspace along with the Crimson Talon.

[Core Mebuff]

Hunter shifted in his chair uncomfortably. He didn't like this. He didn't trust the Imps to begin with and didn't really know what to expect.

He scanned the officer with his helmet and discovered a low bounty posted by some ganglord. Probably, some pirate that was looking for revenge. It wasn't worth the trouble, so Hunter dismissed the idea from his mind and listened carefully to see what would happen next.

[Khendon Sevon]

Captain Zyrekvel sat heavily in his command chair, his eyes scanned the mission briefing he had been given only hours earlier. The Crimson Talon was a newly commissioned Praetor-class cruiser, but one that’s crew had already distinguished themselves in boarder combat.

The Praetor-class cruiser was a proud vessel, designed with firm lines and with every piece of Federacy technology available. The craft could hold its own in virtually any situation, and more importantly, several could be built for the cost of the mighty Sevon-class star destroyer.

Zyrekvel’s mission, and the mission of his mighty vessel, was simple. The Captain was to escort the Dance of Death to a location that had only been revealed to him moments before his jump to hyperspace. Once there, his orders were to assist in keeping the operations secret. The orders were vague, the mission vital, and Zyrekvel and his crew ready.

<center>**********</center>

The Dance of Death smoothly slid out of hyerspace, her massive engines blazing with power. Commander Blane stood from his chair and smiled, “Well, ladies and gentlemen, it appears we have arrived at our destination. If you please, direct your eyes this way,” the Commander made a motion with his hand and blast plating slid away to reveal a large, elongated viewport.

Beyond the viewport was a massive star field, and more importantly, a fleet of mercenary and bounty hunter vessels. Each shone like a small star. For every twenty or so mercenary vessels there was a Saint-class tactical carrier, and in some cases old Imperial carriers that had been recomissioned or rebuilt from scrap.

[Core Mebuff]

One of the other mercs in the conference room stood up impatiently and began ranting, "What's our purpose for being here already?! I'm tired of wastin' time!! I could be doing another job right now!! Get to the point, old man!"

He was a Twi'lek and a rather ugly one at that. Instead of long graceful tendrils, he had short stunted ones that were scarred and bandaged. His face was marred by combat; he had seen some of the worst times in the galactic underworld, but had survived.

Hunter recognized his ugly face but didn't know his name and decided now was not a good time to ask.

The engraged Twi'lek finally sat back down in a huff, his arms across his chest.

[Khendon Sevon]

Blane’s eyes narrowed at the outburst from the mercenary, “What you’re here to do,” he said in his gruff, dominating voice, “is whatever the Admiral sees fit. More specifically,” he grinned, “you’re here to rape, pillage, and burn the enemies of the Imperial Federacy.”

Old Blaster Bolt stroked his chin gently as he surveyed the vessels that the small fleet consisted of. The group was ragtag, but had been bolstered by Federacy weaponry and shielding. The elegant Crimson Talon quickly filled the viewport, the blood red war stripe clearly visible.

“Gentlemen and women, and I use those terms loosely,” grumbled the Commander, “please take out your datapads and take notes, otherwise I’ll get angry,” the old Imperial’s eyes blazed with curbed rage and his demeanor was stiff and rigid.

[Core Mebuff]

All the mercs and hunters did as they were ordered.

Hunter studied the man's face hard, he seemed aged, but still fierce and powerful. The lines on his face showed many years behind them, and many battles, but there was still vigor.

Rape, pillage, and burn?

That wasn't exactly Hunter's style. But times were lean and money was always an object, and the Imps were more than willing to dish out the credits.

[Khendon Sevon]

Commander Blane’s visage took on the likeness of stone. The old Imperial’s eyes radiated authority. The imposing man cleared his throat loudly and began to speak in his coarse voice, “What is it exactly that you’re getting paid for?”

“Well,” he started,” that’s simple. You’re getting paid to invade a nation that has morally withered and financially gorged itself. You all shall be the avenging angels in a campaign that will follow a doctrine set by the tactical genius of the former Vice-Diktat Sevon during the Guild Wars.

“I’m sure some of you have heard of the Sevon Small Ship doctrine, designed to harass an enemy into submission while feeding your war industry,” Blane didn’t wait for a reply, “the details will be handled by each ‘squadron’ commander, whom will be informed by Admiral Jeriinex of their orders.

“So, who’re we going to attack, eh? What empire has become corrupt enough, dreadful enough, and sloppy enough to warrant this incursion and overthrow? The Imperial Sovereignty, that’s who!

“We are the Alliance of Guardians, or the Guardians. Our objective, bring the Empire back to its grandeur by eliminating those that besmirch the name and image of our glorious Empire through any and all means necessary.

“Any questions before I continue?” inquired the Commander, his face still hard and dominating.

[Core Mebuff]

"Yeah!" one of the Mercs said, standing up. He was tall, and a human. He bore the symbol of Jerba the Hutt. Hunter wondered if he knew that his master was nothing more than a smudge mark.

"When do we start the killin' and rapin'?"

Many of the mercs and hunters laughed and cheered at his remark.

Hunter had the mind to wipe them all out right now, but he figured it wasn't worth risking it just to get shot by some Imperial slug who might catch him off guard.

[Khendon Sevon]

Blane allowed a faint smile to form on his usually stolid visage, “alright, settle down, settle down. We’re not here to really rape and kill.” The Commander allowed a moment for several of the mercenaries to calm down then began again, “You’ve all been issued quarters aboard my vessel, you are allowed to wander around, but make trouble,” Old Blaser Bolt clenched his fist and locked his jaw threateningly, “and so help me I’ll have you spaced.”

“Now,” continued the Imperial, “report to your quarters, a technician will stop by, he’ll give you a list of toys you can add to your vessels, you choose, and they’ll be provided to you along with technical assistance, if needed. DISMISSED!”

[Core Mebuff]

One of the Stormtroopers lead Hunter to his quarters. It was pretty much a military bunker. It had a bed, a couple storage compartments and a small closet.

He surveyed the room and sat down on the uncomfortable bed. Felt more like a rock than a bed. The walls were plain durasteel.

"Looks like an institution in here," he muttered to himself.

He dismissed the trooper and began unpacking, closing the door before beginning.

Hunter had it all: grappling hooks, flame throwers, toxic darts, blasters of all shapes and sizes, daggers, an extendable bow staff, and other random weapons.

Just as he stuffed his luggage underneath his bed, Hunter heard a knock on his door.

"Come in!" he barked.

[Khendon Sevon]

The technician pushed up his glasses and gave a curt nod. The Imperial ranted off a few numbers and designations and recited the dock that Hunter’s vessel was currently residing in. “Yes, well, it looks like we have several upgrades available. Now, mind you, a lot of the other mercenaries wanted major technology, we’re providing you with a significant upgrade, but I’m afraid cloaking and such,” the technician grinned and would have laughed if it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t feel particularly safe around the mercenary that’s room he was now in, “is out of the question,” he said more flatly as he handed Hunter the datapad for his perusal.

[Core Mebuff]

Hunter looked over the information on the data pad:
Six-Turret Missile Launcher
Rapid fire Blaster Cannon
Heavy Ion Cannon
Heavy Blaster Cannon
Multiple Grenade Launcher
Tractor Beam
Sonic Bombs


Hunter looked up from the datapad and smiled beneath his heavy helmet.

"I'll take it all ..." he said plainly enough.

The guard seemed a bit shocked at his request.

"Everything?" he questioned.

[Khendon Sevon]

The technician shrugged and smiled thinking to himself, the seventh merc that wanted the works, and inwardly chuckled. The officer saluted, turned on his heel, and marched out, the sound of his boots reverberating through the corridor.

<center>*******************</center>

The heavily modified Illustrious-class star destroyer Scarlet Ambassador erupted from hyperspace, its hull shedding energy. The vessel’s long, elegant form was spotted with dark patches, replacement armor that had recently been used to reinforce the formerly dilapidated hull. Where banks of weapons had formerly stood proud now shield generator arrays and communication nodes were. The bridge had been hastily upgraded, and the engines overhauled.

Unlike the usual Illustrious-class star destroyer, the Scarlet Ambassador was a battle station. Her armor had been increased, shields reinforced, and weapons upgraded. However, even with new engines, she still steamed along at a slow pace in comparison to the nimble Praetor-class cruiser Crimson Talon that quickly and adeptly fell into formation next to her.

The overall number of weapons aboard the Scarlet Ambassador had been lowered, however, she now sported more recent Federacy technology and an upgraded self-destruct designed to protect her secrets.

The Saint-class carriers and Escort carriers accelerated and flanked the slapped together behemoth, shuttles launching from each and, in turn, landing in the belly of the beast.

<center>*******************</center>

Captain Zyrekvel saluted Admiral Creel and took his seat to the man’s right. The war room was simple. To starboard, a massive transparasteel window stood cold, a thin layer of protection between decompression and human sustainable conditions. The room itself was long with an equally long table in the center. Everything, as was Imperial nature, was made from tough durasteel, even the uncomfortable chairs. The Scarlet Ambassador had been upgraded quickly and refitted with equal haste, thus she lacked the luxuries of a true Federacy vessel. The Illustrious star destroyer had one purpose, hit the Sovereignty without letting on Federacy involvement, and hit them hard.

Commander Blane entered the room and many of the officers that were already there gave curt nods. Captain Zyrekvel grimly smiled as the last officer took his seat and the meeting began.

“Welcome, Gentlemen,” began Creel in a friendly manner lined with authority, his voice was strong and projected throughout the room without need of relays, and it was equally bold, “I’m pleased with our progress so far. Three months ago we sat here with the Imperator, the Scarlet Ambassador barely able to move under her own power, and discussed the events that are unfolding today.”

“Now, we stand on the edge of Sovereignty space, just outside of their fleet’s patrols. A small base has already been established on the nearby moon, the vessel you’re currently on is fully stocked with ammunition and fuel, in an hour twenty supply frigates will come out of hyperspace and we will have the resources required to make our first incursion into enemy territory.”

“There is but one issue that remains,” the Admiral looked at his officers and smiled.

Blane spoke up, “All three are aboard my vessel, Sir. I’ve sent runners with orders to bring them here.”

“Good, good,” said Creel smiling, “then everything’s in order.”

<center>*******************</center>

A trooper knocked on Hunter’s door.

[Core Mebuff]

After the technician left Hunter shut the durasteel door and locked it.

He quickly scanned the room for all surveilance devices and either destroyed or disabled them.

Finally, he could rest.

Hunter slipped off his helmet revealing only a black mask that covered everything save his mouth and eyes. He then proceeded to remove the mask, uncovering his blonde hair and fair face.

Hunter laid down on the uncomfortable cot and dozed off for a bit. Suddenly, there was a knock on the durasteel door. He sat up with a jerk and slipped his mask and heavy helmet back on.

"Just a minute," he barked as he got up from the cot. He quickly unlocked the door and allowed the Stormtrooper to enter.

[Khendon Sevon]

The stormtrooper wore only a black, impeccable uniform. His face was cold and harsh. “You,” he began in his most diplomatic voice, “are to come with me. We’re going to see the Admiral.”

The soldier’s hand twitched and he thought about the blaster strapped at his hip. The last mercenary he had ordered around had nearly slit his throat and the trooper had been forced to stun and bind him and send him with four guards to the Admiral. He took every precaution he felt necessary.

[Core Mebuff]

"The Admiral? Okay."

Hunter noticed the trooper's hand flinch towards his blaster.

"And don't try using that little blaster of yours. I'll put a nice hold in your head before you get the chance to fire," the bounty hunter snarled.

[Khendon Sevon]

The soldier gave an uneasy grin and a curt nod, “don’t worry ‘bout it, Pal,” he said with a smirk, “just don’t act up.”

The trooper led Hunter down well-lit corridors that shone with the metallic hue of durasteel. However, unlike durasteel, the walls and floors had a gray luster and minute fibers could barely be made out by the naked eye.

Eventually the two reached the belly of the beast, where shuttles and assorted other craft were in preps or just shutting down. There, an officer saluted and ushered them aboard one of the vessels.

“It’ll just take a moment,” said the officer as the mouth of the craft closed and the Lambda-class shuttle lifted from its berth.

[Core Mebuff]

"Where are we off to?" Hunter inquired, rather surprised at their departure.

He punched a few buttons on his arm guantlet, activating his tracker so that The Outlander could trace his wearabouts and come to him, should need arise.

The bounty hunter checked his gear as he waited for a response from the officer.