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147 too followed 424 into the crew quarters, searching a different room from his colleague. The one he entered seemed to belong to some incredibly nerdy Rebel soldier. Blow up dolls of fictional characters from entertainment holovids were scattered all over the room, and one wall was taken up by a poster red-haired human in a suggestive pose. The alien runes were hard to make out, but he thought they said A'Skah, or something similar. Piles of panties lay around the room. Apparently the former owner must have been an avid collector.

"Ah, what do we have here?"

147 stopped from his searching as his eyes picked out the distinctive cover of Species, a highly illegal magazine distributed only in limited quantities in the Hutt sector. It featured only the best humanoid females in various... suggestive positions, and was primarily for Hutt lords. Possession by a non-Hutt could get one killed... or earn one a lot of envy.

This guy had pretty much the entire print run, mint for the most part, though some of them were slightly... sticky. 147 was silently grateful for wearing gloves as he shoveled the lot into his carrier bags.

He paused again. There was the outline of a switch where the Species had been kept. 147 pressed it and was pleasantly surprised to see the wall behind it turn around, revealing a secret compartment holding a credstick, expensive chronometers... and most importantly, transmission logs on a holodisk. Upon closer examination, the records contained the traffic control signals for the past few months, as well as archives on the MagPulse torpedo receipts... and other, not so related items... It looked like this guy was going to sell out, or at least, he wanted some kind of insurance policy.

Too bad it couldn't save him from a blaster bolt.

147 gathered the loot up and high-tailed it back to the hangar.

454 comes up to the door to the Major's chambers. It was a pretty solid door, but not solid enough. He turns his blaster to the highest setting and leans on the trigger until the door explodes inward. He cautiously enters the room. Seeing no one, he starts to rummage through filing cabinets and datapads. He hears a scrape to his side and instinctively turns and blasts. Some kid was apparently coming out of his hiding spot to surrender. Boo hoo for him. One less future Rebel to worry about.

The Sgt. soon finds what he was looking for. The excess of the last shipment of proton torpedoes was delivered to the storage area. He jots down the numbers on the containers and jogs back to the rest of the men.

When he sees the Lieutenant, he hands him the info and tells him where the torpedoes are.

Alyrium Denryle wrote:He grabbed diaries and other nifty tidits of their personal lives

[OOC: This is very damned true; It's a habit of EVERY rebel movement
in history; from the Bolsheviks before the October Revolution, to Marxist
Guerillas in South America; they always keep these ultra detailed diaries,
even though they're very damaging to their cause if the diaries
are captured; for simple vanity and to document the "struggle"]

MKSheppard wrote:

Alyrium Denryle wrote:He grabbed diaries and other nifty tidits of their personal lives

[OOC: This is very damned true; It's a habit of EVERY rebel movement
in history; from the Bolsheviks before the October Revolution, to Marxist
Guerillas in South America; they always keep these ultra detailed diaries,
even though they're very damaging to their cause if the diaries
are captured; for simple vanity and to document the "struggle"]

I thought it was because they needed egos the size of mountains to think they could actually fight the government and win?

Olsve watched in drugged befuddlement as the Imperials loaded bag
after bag full of...stuff onto his freighter, along with case after case of
what appeared to be proton torpedoes.

"Alright boys, time to go. 454, 529 take the X-wings out first. Stay low in case the guns up top are still working. If 312 did his job, they won't be after we blow it. The rest of us are on the transport. We'll clear the hanger, make sure the hanger door closes and blow the place. After that, we'll clear the gravity well, signal Gorp, and then we'll make a diversion jump and then jump to the rendezous ship. Any questions?"

Deathstalker wrote:Any questions?"

"Negative sir."

529 hopped up into an X-wing cockpit, shut the canopy, and began the startup sequence. His freshly wiped R2 unit also began starting up, and beeped a greeting at him.

454 just wordlessly salutes, spins on his heels, and climbs into the X-Wing. His ear to ear grin was hidden behind his helmet when he began the startup sequence. He would never admit it to his fellow troopers, but he loved these X-Wing fighters, and relished every chance he got to fly them.

114 will wait until everyone else is aboard then board himself. He'll make his way to the cockpit and take the captains chair.
"147, make sure our prisoner is good and drugged. I don't want him causing any trouble. 424 your my copilot. 312, standby to fire the charges. Everybody else, strap in and prepare for takeoff!"

Using the ships comm, 114 will raise 454 and 529. "454, you are Drake one, 529 is Drake two. I am Wyvern. Signal when you are both done with you preflight and ready leave. Once we are clear of the base, we will maintain radio silence until we clear the gravity well. Wyvern out!"

*boards transport and takes copilot position.*

[OOC important decision HERE, everyone check it out and vote]

Slowly, the base's blast doors whine open, their ill-maintained bearings
groaning under the strain, and moments later, two X-Wings blasted out
of the hangar at full thrust, followed by a heavily scarred YT-2400,
it's engines roaring at full thrust, their ion trail burning the vegetation
off the cliff face.

Moments later, the shockwaves hit the craft, as they were climbing past
the stratosphere as the torpedo magazine AND the power cells in the
base went up in one massive detonation; over a hundred megatons
of sheer raw power being liberated.

Below, five kilometers of forest disappeared in a blinding flash,
vaporized utterly by the fireball of the blast, which glowed evilly for
forty seconds before disappearing.

Up to eight kilometers out, everything around the base died instantly
from over five hundred rems of ionizing radition.

fourteen klicks away, animals and lone hunting parties died as the
airblast snuffed their lives out.

For a distance of eighty kilometers around the base, any unprotected
beings or animals screamed as they suffered third degree burns if
they had been unfortunate enough to be in the path of the thermal
pulse.

[OOC: Used values of 125 megatons HERE for the blast]

"Stang, 312! Why not crack the planet while you were at it!"

"424, get ready to raise Gorp on the comm. As soon as we clear the gravity well and I have a jump computed, we'll advise him of the situation. I want to be able to make a quick getaway in case there are any listeners. Drake one and two, stand by for jump coordinates."

529 continued his outbound flight, after setting his sensors to record the blast, saving it on his personal datapad, and wiping the ship's memory of it.

That was definately worth saving.

"Well, all's well that ends well... Time to enjoy the spoils of war."

147 leaned back in the chair and flipped open a copy of Species. A grin spread across his face like the slow rising of the sun as he perused the various humanoid females, most of whom were suffering from a severe lack of clothing and modesty.

Deathstalker wrote:"424, get ready to raise Gorp on the comm. As soon as we clear the gravity well and I have a jump computed, we'll advise him of the situation. I want to be able to make a quick getaway in case there are any listeners. Drake one and two, stand by for jump coordinates."

"Yes sir"

*does all but the last action necessary to open a comm channel, and waits to be clear of the gravity well*

Argh! Sorry I haven't been able to post here lately, but I've been leaping back and forth from here to there, and am heading into Canada for a week at the beginning of August.

Unless the Gm throws a squadron of X-wings at us (in which case we are dead meat) we manage to raise Gorp, update him on the situation, make our diversion jump and then make our rendezous jump. For that we have Gorp jump about a minute ahead of us, so he can broadcast our code signal, then the we follow, captured freighter first, ready to broadcast code signal, then the X-wings, with s-foils locked and codes ready to broadcast. It would be shitty way to end a succesful mission, getting blown out of space by our own side! Oh and if Gorp screws us for some reason, I want the X-wings to make sure that if it's the last thing they do, they torpedo his ass! 114 plans to die with a crowd!

"So... are we going to let this prisoner live? And if not, can I play with him?"

Deathstalker wrote:Unless the Gm throws a squadron of X-wings at us (in which case we are dead meat) we manage to raise Gorp, update him on the situation, make our diversion jump and then make our rendezous jump.

no X-Wings, they were all out on patrol several systems away, and
you don't get any replies from Gorp.

After thirty minutes of trying to hail Gorp to no effect, what do you do?

We are keeping the prisoner alive so the ISB can use him as a patsy for what we just did to the rebel base.

"Where the hell is that stupid Sith-spawned being! To hell with it! We're not waiting around to get clobbered by Rebels. Gorp will have to take his chances. Maybe we'll see him in four days, maybe not. Drake one and two, this is Wyvern. We're jumping! Standby, on my mark, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! "

Once we make the diversion jump, we'll make the jump to meet the ship.

Assuming that the second jump lasts at least an hour:

"Alright troops, clean up your gear while you have the chance. Once we dock, we'll debrief and do an AAR. 424, make sure you have the recoginition codes loaded into the comms."

"Oh yeah, they are in. I may be a sadistic bastard with a pension for sexual torture, but I am not completely incompetant."

As 529 enagaged his hyperdrive and entered hyperspace, he set an audible alarm to wake him five minutes prior to reentry and tried to get some sleep, following the convential wisdom of all soldiers: "Try to sleep whenever you can, because you never know when you'll get another chance."

Boingo! You exit hyperspace without any problems and find yourself
floating in space several million clicks from the Frigate...

[Sorry if it isn't my usual detailed writeup, but I'm about to go to bed
and all of you are online right now.....so PROCEED!]

"well, good thing we didnt miscalculate the course"