(OOC: A very long overdue introduction I know. My OOB's not done yet, but I don't plan on starting any fights soon.
I also invite any faction that's interested in diplomatic relations to contact the Foreign Service of the Rim Alliance (the branch of my government primarily concerned with diplomacy. A warning, I feel, is due however. My faction will be most friendly to Republic and democratic factions.
Also, a note on a couple things not (yet) in my OOB: AFS stands for Alliance Fleet Ship. My leader is a former Sepperatist captain and intelligence officer who went into hiding in the Outer Rim after the Clone Wars. He is not, however, seeking to recreate the CIS, which he feels betrayed the ideals he was fighting for. My faction is also engaged in an on-going low grade state of war with various outlaw factions and especially the Hutts, who I presume are an NPC faction. Lastly, I included a list of various EU characters who are wanted felons in my territory. I hope that those I picked are sufficiently minor not to infringe upon the premise of this game, but if its a problem I can retcon it in a later post.)
The AFS
Liberty dropped out of hyperspace some distance from its destination at the Moon of Kessel. Only a fool captain risked the perils of the Maw, and Commander Erik Janson was no fool. He was young for his rank, or would have been in most pre-collapse navies, but in building a fleet from scratch in the Outer Rim, the new Rim Alliance had been forced to promote anyone who showed a hint of talent to positions of command. So here he was, 27 years old, commanding a pair of CR90 Corvettes and an Old Republic Dreadnought design as they escorted several improvised prison ships carrying the latest group of convicts to be shipped out to Kessel. The Alliance had liberated the system some time before, but had continued to use the prebuilt prison facilities, upgraded to Alliance standards of humanitarianism. The cleanup of Tatooine's underworld and a major campaign against piracy and smuggling in Alliance territory had kept every possible prison area full.
The convoy fanned out into a defensive formation as it approached Kessel's Moon. It was unlikely that a raid would penetrate this deeply into Alliance space, much less risk the fighter squadrons, Frigate, escorts, and Gollan Arms batteries that defended the Kessel system. But Janson was a cautious officer, all the more because he was aware that by most traditional standards he was young for his rank.
"Convoy A07, this is Kessel Defense Command. Please state your cargo and destination and transmit your security code at the signal." A moment passed, then a single buzz came over the comm.
"This is Commander Erik Janson. Cargo is four prison transports totaling 420 convicts and supplies. Destination, the Kessel Penal Colony. Full manifest is being transmitted. Now transmitting our IDC."
"Transmission acknowledged, please stand by."
Half an hour later, the signal to proceed came through. Erik ordered the helm to put the ship on autopilot and let the tractors guide them in. He didn't relax though, not until the ship was safely docked and the last prisoner had been passed to the custody of the prison staff. As captain he would not neglect his responsibilities.
* * *
Justice Commissioner Garret Remman looked up as his secretary walked in through the door of his office and handed him a data pad. Without looking up he pulled it over and activated it. A three inch tall hologram of an alien's face flickered into view, as print in Huttese scrolled by underneath. Moruth Doole, the slaver and smuggler who had been the proprietor of Kessel until Alliance forces came in and evicted the former owners. That hadn't been much of a fight by all accounts; the smugglers had broken in less than thirty minutes, and most of those that had run had either been chased down by the Alliance picket ships and boarded or destroyed or had flown too close to the Maw in their haste to escape and been sucked into the black holes. Doole, however, had escaped, along with a few top subordinates. Rumor had it he had hid among the prisoners who had been released following the liberation of the prison camp; if that was true, it would be a major embarrasment for the fleet. In any case, a ten minute survey by Alliance Fleet medical personal of some of the freed prisoners had been enough to land the former overseer of the Kessel mines on a list of beings wanted for Crimes Against Sentience. Remman's officers had been quietly tracking down leads on over a dozen Outer Rim worlds and smuggling havens, including Abregado Rae, Tatooine itself, and Brentaal. Now it looked like the search might have paid off. Doole had apparently been sighted by a contact on Brentaal. Unfortunately, that system was in the Core Protectorate, an ex-Imperial faction with which the Alliance had no extradition treaty. It would be difficult to capture him, but not by any means impossible. An operation to retrieve him would however require high-level authorization, and that would require more evidence of Doole's whereabouts than some vague report. He glanced up suddenly, surprised to find his secretary still waiting.
"Yes?" he asked, more irritably than normal. It was damnably hot, even for Mos Eisly.
"Sir, I'm requested to remind you that the Council is holding a special session in two hours, and that your presence is requested."
"Come back in two hours then. I want you to personally deliver a report to Captain Lars in the fifth sector. Confidential."
He sat back up again and eyed the notices pinned to his office wall. A dozen individuals, their net worth in bounties equal to over 1,300,000 credits. The first seven were comparative small timers, wanted more for the brutality and noteriety of their crimes than the scope of their operations. A rapist and bandit who had shot two Federal Security officers, bounty 25,000 credits. The owner of a Cantina not five blocks from the Commissioner's current office, who had run a slave trafficking ring. The report on the conditions in which his "purchases" had lived had not been pleasant reading, even for a former merc and chief law enforcement officer of a minor power in the Rim. 50,000 credits. A three-man assassin team that had done a string of contracts on Federal officers for the Hutts after the Alliance first began to clean out the corruption in the Outer Rim. 50,000 for the ringleader and 40,000 for each accomplice. Two men who had attempted a fortunately half-assed abduction of the First Consul's wife. Bounty: 60,000 apiece. Their accomplices had died in a firefight with Federal Security.
The next three were decidedly more dangerous. Moruth Doole and his top aid filled the next two spots, wanted for 5 counts of Crimes Against Sentience, 7 of Conspiracy to Commit the same, 15 of Smuggling in Alliance Space, 4 of Murder, and 8 of Conspiracy to Commit Murder between them. 100,000 credits each. A pirate lord who had massacred an Alliance convoy and highjacked several lone civilian vessels. 140,000 credits.
The last two were the most notorious, and dangerous. The Commissioner knew that bringing in either would make him one of the most famous and most hunted law enforcement officers in the history of the Galaxy. He studied each in turn. His gaze fell first on Boba Fett, Status: Unknown. The legendary bounty hunter could be alive or dead for all his operatives had found out. But that hadn't stopped the Alliance from posting a 200,000 credit sum for information leading to his capture. And then there was the final entry on the list. Ysanne Isard, former leader of the Empire and one of the most infamous war criminals in the Galaxy. Reward: 500,000 credits. Not that she was likely to be hiding anywhere but an Imperial stronghold, where she would be safely out of reach of Alliance law enforcement. In all likelihood, if her capture
were somehow accomplished, the glory would go first to the diplomats or the military, not his office.
Doole, however, he could at least pursue. Pulling out a data pad, he jotted down a coded request for more information. With most of the holonet down, it would have to go by military lines of communication, which might take a day or two, but by the end of the week he expected an update on the situation. His orders were to monitor the suspect covertly, and confirm his identity without provoking local officials or if possible, revealing their presence at all. If they confirmed, they were to set a tail on the suspect, track him if he moved off planet, and wait for orders before proceeding.
Having finished the note he sat back in his chair again with a cup of water from the cooler by the wall. A luxury on Tatooine, for a man of high rank. He still had some paper work to fill out, but he figured he could spare a moment for a midday rest.
* * *
First Consul Kossan Mical sat at his desk, glad for the air conditioning in his office and adjoining chambers. The room was simple, plastered walls reinforced with hidden plating to stop a heavy blaster canon. No windows, by his personal specifications. A desk, water dispenser, and three chairs. A small drinks cabinate to one side. A banner bearing the Alliance emblem on the desk behind him. The desk itself contained datapads, a holoprojector and communications station like one in any civilian vehicle or home but for the presence of military grade security features. It also contained his volumes on linguistics, tactics, and galactic history, rare antiques on printed paper bound in cloth or leather. But for now they were locked away. Stacked on his desk was one of at least fifty datapads that required his attention before the Council meeting today. Most of all those pertaining to the laws, customs, and resources of Myrkyr, the latest world to apply for membership to the Alliance. Its full membership in theory was all but accomplished, but in practice there were thousands of details that had yet to be worked out. It was all part of the never-ending struggle to restore order to the Rim, a struggle Kossan had taken on himself, because he had not felt he had a choice.
He sighed. He knew progress had been made, great progress, more than he had had any right to hope for. But sometimes it still all seemed like too much. When he had lead his militia in taking Tatooine from the last of the Emperor's thugs, he had done so to restore hope to the Rim. He had told them that the Core had neglected the Rim for millennia, and that if they were to ever be more than an abandoned backwater or a source of cheap labor, then they would have to cut their ties and build a future on there own. But since then, things had changed. No longer was the Rim a neglected backwater. The whole Galaxy had gone to hell. Could they sit back and mind their own affairs, when they were no worse off than anyone else?
That attitude would not be popular with the Council. Too many still felt that they needed to regroup, build their strength. And there was bitterness, as well. Why should they help those who had not helped them? That had to end. He would not have his new Alliance built on anger and vengence. He had seen to many dreams fail because of that. He was old now, he knew. He might not want to admit it, but he feared that the years behind now outnumbered those ahead. He would not live forever, but he would not die to see his last hope in ruins. He had spent what should have been the best years of his life on the wrong side, had seen to much death and betrayal. He wouldn't let that happen again.
He rose stiffly, with a sigh. He had too little time, and none for being reflective. Not until after the meeting, at any rate. He checked the time on the desk's monitor. 40 minutes. Time to go through another few pads.
I'll let you know of what I have in mind via G Talk.
