View Full Version : Corellia: Quo Vadis?

Sep 26th, 2015, 01:03:37 AM
Where are you going?

That was the question that occupied Alexi's mind as he watched the two least inconspicuous ne'er-do-wells this side of Nar Shaddaa shuffling awkwardly through the abandoned buildings at the edge of The Zone. Everyone had a different name to describe the tattered wound that the Star Destroyer impact had carved through a square mile of Coronet's industrial suburbs, but to Alexi's ears, The Zone felt exactly the right amount of ominous. Call it whatever you wanted, anyone in the Corellian Sector would know without question or consideration exactly where you meant - and equally, they knew how badly it was a place to be avoided.

Information was sketchy on just why The Zone had become such a dangerous place. Some rumours said that the Resistance had snipers lurking in the surrounding buildings, picking off members of Imperial salvage teams just to keep the Empire off-balance and afraid. If that was true, the Imperials were keeping very quiet about it, though it would explain why the salvage operations were taking so damn long. All these weeks and it was still there, a shattered shard of white jutting from the Coronet skyline like a shattered blade snapped off in the wound. So slow were the Empire's efforts in fact, that other opportunists had moved in, trying to loot anything and everything valuable from the wreck itself, and the broken buildings around it. Mostly it was petty criminals, like the crew Alexi had stumbled across a few nights ago, trying to load salvaged manufacture machinery onto the back of a cargo skiff. The longer the Empire delayed though, the more other parties were beginning to show an interest. Rumour was that Black Sun and the Corellian crime families had been fighting it out in the eastern quarter, someone trying to get enough of a foothold to breach the hull and go after any of the Destroyer's ordnance that had managed to survive the impact.

Of course, sometimes the stories were just stories. Everyone in Coronet seemed to have a cousin who'd managed to salvage a working TIE Fighter or an AT-PT from within the wreck; everyone knew a guy who knew a guy who could get them some interesting souvenirs, though no one ever seemed to have indulged in that opportunity. It was the same with people who claimed to have seen exactly what had happened - people who had definitely seen a missile launched from a particular neighbourhood, or who knew for a fact that it was all some elaborate hoax by the Empire to discredit the Alliance and create an excuse for a witch hunt against any sympathisers that might be left behind after the Treaty. Everyone just wanted to be involved: it had been such a huge event that had affected so many, and it almost felt as if you couldn't even consider yourself a true Corellian anymore if it hadn't affected your life in some way.

Keeping low, Alexi scurried across the rooftop of his warehouse perch, an impossible leap hurling him across the gap between this building and the next, landing in utter silence on the other side. The darkness of his clothing and of the mask that covered all but a sliver of his face blurred into the darkness behind; just another fragment of charred debris, pay it no mind.

These particular individuals had caught his attention with the oddly oversized jackets they were wearing. While true, the nights in Coronet could be a little chilly, especially if you were used to the more sun-baked climates of the galaxy's less temperate worlds, there was dressed for the coldbulky jacket-wearing, and there was I'm probably hiding something under here that I don't want you to know about bulky jacket-wearing. Not to mention the fact that the pair felt suspicious. He could sense their anxiety, their apprehension, their malicious intent; not crystal clear from this range, but enough.

In utter silence Alexi descended from above, only the faintest patter sounding as his boots impacted the ground. In a flash of activity the suspicious duo's heads were grabbed and smashed together, and a whirl of sudden kicks and teräs käsi converted the two figures into unconscious prone forms on the ground.

Alexi cast his senses up and down the avenue in which he'd found himself, reaching out in search of observers. Satisfied that he was alone, he crouched down over his victims and tugged the jacket aside. A muttered string of curses hissed out from beneath his breath. Scout trooper armour. Legit, too, from the look of it - it fit the soldiers much better than the jackets they'd used to conceal it, and they had all the bells and whistles, side arms, comlinks, the works. He reached for one of the utility pouches on the nearest one's belt; tugged out an ident card; let his thumb slide across the surface. Even through the fabric covering his gloved fingers, he could feel the subtle deviations in the surface where the relevant details had been laser-etched into the duraplast. Definitely legit.

More curses. More fumbling. These two idiots probably weren't even supposed to be here: probably got some idiot notion in their heads about sneaking into The Zone, trying to collar some of the criminals or Resistance fighters lurking about the place. Commendations and back-pats all around, if they'd succeeded.

He tugged out a comlink, and flicked it on. "Control," he spoke, trying his best to at least match the accent of the scout trooper, based on the mutterings he'd overheard as they'd shuffled around on their self-assigned patrol. "This is TB-41964. There's a disturbance at my location. Lock in on my transmission, and send -"

Alexi flicked the signal off mid-speaking, the comlink still chattering away with responses from Imperial dispatch. With a grimace he tossed the 'link back to the prone form of it's owner, and with one last glance at his handiwork, leaped off into the darkness again.

Pekka Pel
Oct 1st, 2015, 11:07:48 PM
Some distance away, a lone figure stumbled over the debris that obstructed a darkened street - well, what had once been a street. A street existed to be traveled upon. This wasn't a street anymore; it was just another chunk of a dead zone. The speeder that had dropped him off was already well on its way back to areas of the city where wreckage wasn't sticking up several hundred feet into the air.

The real kick in the ass was, this wasn't even the main part of the crash site. Whatever else he could say about the people that had crashed the Star Destroyer into his planet - and he had said plenty - Pekka had to admit that they had chosen their target fairly well. The giant ship had impacted just outside the population centers, close enough that it got everyone's attention (and how), but far enough away from the residential and commercial areas that civilian casualties had been...well, not as catastrophic as they could have been. But, then again, this was a mile-long hunk of metal meant to fly people through space. It's not as if it was a precision instrument. So when a piece of bulkhead broke off and tore the crap out of his apartment building, like some sort of afterthought of gravity, it was somehow all the more infuriating. F*** the people that had crashed the ship. F*** the people that had built the ship. F*** the force of gravity. F*** the bulkhead that had opened up his building from top to bottom. At this point, Pekka felt equally aggravated by all of them.

An unseen piece of rubble tripped up the Drall, sending him tumbling to the ground. A loud string of profanities came bursting forth and gravity was immediately promoted to the top of his list.

Pekka Pel
Oct 8th, 2015, 12:04:07 PM
Pekka's eyes closed instinctively as he careened out of control. Helpfully, his chin broke his fall and the fur on his lower jaw began to grow red with blood. He was getting too old for this crap.

Surprising the hell out of him, he was greeted with the sight of his dead dog, Duke.

After rising to his hands and knees and picking up the shattered remains of his dignity, the drall inched forward and wrestled the screen out from under the wreckage sheltering it. The still illuminated image showed the 4-legged creature in the arms of a 2-legged creature. His ex-wife. Of the two, the wrong one left this world.

He looked around, confused. The remains of the buildings were still distinctive enough to confirm that he was still quite a hike from his former home. How in the hell did this screen end up way out here and how did he manage to fall in just the right spot to see it? "Very well, gravity," he though, with resignation, "you get a pass this time."