The dropship that approached the Sunrise Horizon looked more like it was on an attack run than a landing pattern. The communications officer aboard the luxury ship was definitely convinced by the vector.

“Uh, freighter Bull Rush? You seem to be approaching the Horizon at attack speed. If you don’t slow down some, I’m going to have to call the starfighter escorts in,” the communications officer stuttered. His voice was tinny over the ship’s poor comm array, and Gates snorted. His pilot, a close childhood friend who’d actually bothered to learn how to fly a starship, responded.

“This is Bull Rush,” Conrad said, his voice uptight and arrogant, and obviously a false one. “I consider your ‘escort’ of Z-95s incapable of catching me. Besides, my passenger was invited.”

“Passengers?!” the communications officer said, his voice strangled. There was rapid talking that was indistinct, but another voice could be heard. On the threat display on the navigation console, a starfighter twitched its course to slide in behind the dropship.

“Oh, that was uncalled for...” Gates murmured.

The hangar’s forcefield grew larger in the distance, growing from a fist to the size of a terminal screen, and then all the sudden to full size.

“They never even would have touched us at half speed,” laughed Conrad. Gates nodded and smiled.

“You going to join the party?” Gates asked, unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling at the bottom of his grey dress uniform, perfecting its creases and making sure his sidearm was safely in its holster.

“Naw, I ain’t Phoenix, and I hate these types of things anyway,” the other man said. “Plus, I’m only a buck sergeant. They might get angry at me over this.”

“Suit yourself. Lower the landing ramp, will you?”

Conrad merely nodded as Gates left the cockpit. As the ship was a dropship, ‘lowering the landing ramp’ was an understatement. Designed for maximum speed of deployment, the troop bay doors slammed open and Gates found himself at the center of a very nervous looking crowd of security guards. He grinned disarmingly and waved.

The officer of the guards looked to say something caustic but then noticed the Sergeant Major’s bars on his shoulders, the Imperial crest pin at the left of his collar, the black-and-red fist on his right collar, and the rainbow of medals on his chest. He put the non-gun hand’s palm on his face and sighed.

“Phoenix Company?”

“Sergeant Major Garryll Gates, Squad Lead, Blackjack. Where’s the party?”

“Your transport is here. I recommend that you board before we take off.” a gravelly voice said from Valthir’s comm.

Obviously the pilot. Grizzled  war vet too old to fly for the military, but not old enough to fly transports. It must be a very demeaning job. To once be a brilliant fighter pilot, now reduced to shipping diplomats to social functions on various planets. He must hate himself . . . I would.

Valthir clicked an affirmative and slipped the comm back in his pocket. He grimaced as he looked at himself in the mirror. A dress uniform, perfectly tailored, yet somehow uncomfortable. He tugged at his collar, feeling warmer already. The rest of Wraith had already left for the party some hours before. Valthir had stayed behind, aiming to disappear into night at the first chance that he could. He had never gotten that chance. The attendance of the troopers was apparently compulsory as an escort had been sent to the barracks as soon as it was discovered that Valthir had not left with the rest of Wraith.

With a silent curse, Valthir eyed his escort. A human male that looked more like a stone statue than a being, the escort had remained still the entire time. With eyes that were hidden behind black lenses, any emotion he may have had was masked.

“Ready?” Valthir said, more stating than questioning.

With a nod, the escort gestured for Valthir to go first. Muttering under his breath, Valthir passed by the escort and exited the building.

-----------------

Valthir stalked through the halls of the Sunrise of Horizon, deliberately avoiding most of the people aboard. He may have hated crowds, but what he hated more was parties. An unneeded waste of money, parties were. Gluttony in disguise ran rampant. High-class citizens waltzed around, showing off their expensive clothes and jewelry. The whole affair turned Valthir’s stomach. Formality wasn’t his thing. Appearances meant little to him. The only important thing was to get the job done.

With a sigh, he continued walking. This was indeed a job he had to do. Pretending to be a polite and well-mannered young man in order to make the Vast Empire look good. The bureaucracy demanded it. Valthir hated it. A sneer stretched across his face. He didn’t care. Not too many people would be in the back halls when the party was raging in the ball-room. He was alone. For now.

The halls blended together, leaving him with any idea as to his location. The only people that he encountered were too drunk to realize he was there, let alone attempt to interact with him. It seemed like hours that he roamed the ship, with no particular destination other than away from the party. Yet, eventually, he ran into trouble. A physical sort of the trouble, in the form of a guard.

“What are you doing here? This is off-limits to guests. You aren’t allowed back here.” a voice called out from somewhere in front of him.

Valthir had been deep in thought, with his head bowed. Staring at the floor, he had been shuffling along, minding his own business as usual. With this unexpected intrusion, he stopped and looked up, at a loss for what to say. His abrupt transition from deep thought to reality had thrown him off-balance, and the guard apparently took his silence as an indication of his mischievousness. Raising what looked like a toy pistol, the guard looked down the sight at Valthir.

“Halt or I’ll shoot.” he said, rather loudly.

Valthir had had enough time to collect his thoughts, but paused for a moment longer before answering, “One, I’m already stopped. And two, if I’m not supposed to be here, how did I get back here in the first place? For an area that’s supposedly off limits, you guys have some crappy security. Honestly, I could have blown this place up already and left.”

Angered, the guard stepped forward, waving the gun threateningly, “Excuse me? Is that a threat?”

“You really aren’t that bright, are you? Nevermind, I’ll see myself out.” Valthir said, smoothly turning on his heel and walking away before the guard could react.

Once out of eyesight, he began to sprint, wishing to put as much distance as he could between himself and the guard. Eventually, he turned a corner, only to find himself facing the entrance to the party. Quickly, he turned and began to walk away, but was caught by his arms and dragged through the doors by what seemed to be bouncers.

Stumbling forward as they released him, Valthir turned and stared the pair down.

“Bouncers? You guys are supposed to keep troublemakers out, not bring them in.” he said.

“Are you implying that you aim to cause trouble? If so, . . .” one of the bouncers said, cracking his knuckles to complete the threat.

Valthir frowned, “Brains *and* brawn. A dangerous combination. No, no. I’m good. I’m good. I’ll be gone now.”

Backing away, he weaved through the crowd, aiming towards the first place that he could find that would serve liquids. A bar, conveniently mirrored by another bar on the opposite side of the ballroom, appeared before him. Looking more for a seat at this point than something to drink, Valthir squeezed through the crowd and emerged at the bar. Sliding into a barstool, he paused and rested his head on his hands for a moment. Weariness was threatening to overtake him. Sleep had eluded him the last few nights and, combined with the sudden ordeal of being thrown into a loud room filled with a sweaty, rapidly gyrating crowd of idiotic dancers, Valthir gave in and slumped down onto the bar, snoring lightly as he slumbered.

Beta’s eyes slowly opened to the back of a pilot droid’s head. He cracked his neck and uncrossed his arms before standing up and walking to the front of the cockpit. Beta adjusted his white suit and held his hands behind his back as he looked out into the vastness of space.

“Pilot, how much longer until we arrive at our destination?” Beta quickly asked the droid that was connected to the transport vessel’s main computers.

“Approximately fifteen minutes until landing,” came back from the emotionless face.

Beta took one last glance out before turning around to see the unconscious body of Skarr. He walked up to him and put his hand on the squad leader’s shoulder and shook.

“Wha… what?” Skarr said blinking his eyes, “Are we there yet?”

“Na,” Beta replied, “about fifteen minutes to go but I thought it would be smart to awake you first.”

“Bah! Let me sleep some more.” Skarr said putting his head back down, “Wake me up in five minutes when we are actually close to landing.”

Beta then sighed and plopped himself back down in his own seat and commenced spinning his chair.

“You know, we didn’t actually have to wear uniforms to this thing you know.” Beta said after looking at Skarr’s clothes, “I just thought it would look nicer to wear something more decent.”

“Shut up Beta.” came the muffled voice of the gunnery sergeant, “trying to sleep here.”

“Would you say that the tailings and top hat are a bit much though?”

“Beta, still sleeping here.”

“I think so but I do want to look respectable at this thing –“

“Beta.”

“Yes Skarr?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay then but the ship is in sight now so you might want to get up.” Beta said as looked out to see the luxury ship in the distance. Skarr then groaned and looked up as Beta was walking back to the front of the cockpit.

“Sunrise of Horizon, this is a Vast Empire transport.” Beta started to say into the microphone placed on the dashboard of the cockpit, “Do we have permission to land in one of your hangers?”

After a short pause where they were obviously scanning the ship a voice came over the speakers, “Permission denied. Your transport will not fit in our docking bays. You’ll have to find another way.”

“Well now how are we going to get onto the ship?” Skarr said, “You just had to pick the largest vessel in the shipyard didn’t you!”

Beta deactivated the microphone, “We had to come in style though! What’s the point in going to one of these upper class parties if you don’t look good doing it!” Beta reactivated the microphone, “Sunrise of Horizon, we can probably get on using something smaller in the cargo bay. Permission to land?”

The was another delay in their response in which Beta and Skarr could both hear some background conversation over the speakers, “Permission granted. We’ll leave the bay doors open until you land safely.”

Skarr then walked up to Beta and put both hands on his shoulders, turning him around, “Now what are supposed to do? There are no smaller ships in the cargo area that we can use!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you,” Beta started to say as he walked towards the cargo section, “We haven’t checked and we’ll never know what we’ll find.”

Beta started walking towards the cargo bay of the transport with an infuriated Skarr behind him. They got to the large open space and looked only to see an AT-AT and a few weapons scattered along the walls. Without looking back Beta ran down a small flight of stairs leading to the deck and grabbed a pistol from the side before climbing a ladder into the cockpit of the AT-AT.

“What the hell are you doing now?” Skarr yelled at him from across the cargo bay.

“Improvising,” Beta yelled back, “now hurry up before we miss our chance!”

Beta placed himself in the pilot’s seat and put on the headset sitting on the dashboard. Skarr then sat down in the co-pilot’s seat and Beta pushed over the ladder and closed up the cockpit. He then fired the front mounted turbolasers at the wall in front of them making a decent sized hole. The monster of a machine then fired at the wall again while walking forward, making the hole bigger. Beta then reached the hole and put full power to the back leg of the AT-AT causing the whole thing to thrust into space at high speeds.

The AT-AT spiraled at the docking bay of the Sunrise of Horizon before hitting the legs of it against the bottom of the opening. The tank on legs then slid sideways along the floor of the bay slowing until it reached a stop after just bumping into Havock’s ship, putting a small dent in it. Shaken, Beta opened the cockpit of the sideways behemoth and just fell to the floor face up, his hat falling off.

“You know what, I should have you demoted for that Beta,” Skarr said, half hanging out of the cockpit himself, “but that was frakking awesome!”

Joamer stood looking at a rather bizarre site. An all terrain armored transport, or AT-AT sat on it's side in the hangar of the Sunrise of Horizon. He stood at the docking ramp of his own ship, a pressed, creased, and extremely tidy black dress uniform he wore with a look of annoyance. He knew he could of come in something else, but as the new Assistant Squad Leader of RAIDERS he had to at least make a semblance of decency. Well, part decency anyways, he ignored his pants.

He adjusted the harness sitting around his shoulders and under his uniform. It held a small holdout blaster pistol. He had learned on many occasions that diplomatic balls tended to end horribly bad. He doubted this one would be any different.

The sir smelled of ozone, not of blaster fire, but more of something large cutting grooves in the deck plating. He watched as workers sat in stunned silence looking at the giant behemoth taking up a chunk of the hangar bay. Luckily the ship had three more bays such as this, otherwise they would of had a big problem by now.

He knew his were the only set of eyes not starring at the walker. Instead, they were on a small dent in a FP-B6 Fighter Pod. He knew who the pod belonged to. He also had an idea of who was responsible for making the dent. Stepping off the ramp people turned to stare, they blinked a few times then decided to leave the area.

He heard a soft whoosh as his Strill Lurk landed on his shoulder, his jackboots making soft thuds as he walked towards the party.

People turned to look at him, then blinked and stepped away. He made his way through the group to where his Squad Leader Havock was sitting by the bar sipping some drink. She turned to look at him, smiled at Lurk who flew to her shoulder. Then she looked down and blinked the same as everyone else.

"Um, Joamer..." She said slowly, her eyes not believing what they were seeing.

"There is an AT-AT in the cargo bay now. I suspect either Wraith or someone from RAIDERS had a hand in it. Probably both." He said quietly.

"So that's the noise I heard a few minutes ago." She said as she petted Lurk. Her eyes not leaving his pants.

"Indeed, I just got here. There is a problem though, I saw your fighter pod next to it. There is a dent in the side panel from the AT-AT hitting it." Joamer said as he sat down at the bar.

The noise in the room seemed to go suddenly quiet, but he knew it had not changed at all. His senses began picking up every little sound that was made. He watched as Havock switched from being slightly inebriated to enraged all in a split second. Lurk purred gently in her ear trying to get her to calm down, after a long minute it worked and she went back to drinking and petting the Strill.

"I'll deal with them later." She said quietly. "Joamer, I like the whole dress uniform thing you got going on. However, why are you in hot pink spandex pants?" Her voice seemed to carry an odd note in it as she said it. Half annoyance, and half amusement.

He grinned as he ordered a Corellian whiskey and shrugged. He felt the liquid burn down his throat as he settled in for a very very long night.

Skarr stumbled out of the toppled AT-AT. Beta stood in front of the cockpit, bowing to the protesting security guards and traffic control officers. The man looked ridiculous in the top hat and coat-tails, but the man seemed comfortable in the stiff uniform. Skarr grinned a little as he stood. The whole AT-AT thing had shaken him only a bit. He only worried how he could explain the incident to Havock. She would be really pissed that Beta crashed an AT-AT into the ship with Skarr in it.

Norith sidled up to Beta and grabbed the man’s arm. He dragged the lower ranked trooper out of the hangar, calling apologies to the traffic controls officer. The datapad said the party was being held in the banquet room. The schematics listed 12 of them. He sighed a little and smiled as he seen Valthir and...Joamer was wearing pink spandex pants.

“Pink spandex, Joe?” Beta teased.

“At least I’ll still have my head when Havock’s done with you,” he replied simply. Skarr huffed and rubbed at his face with a gloved hand. Valthir looked over Skarr’s shoulder.

“A blaster rifle, Skarr?” Val asked.

“The Noghri could be playing us,” Skarr shrugged, after all he had a Noghri member in his squad. The blaster rifle was not all. He had a knife in his boot. A small hold-out blaster in his other boot. Dual blaster at his lower back. Several grenades in his belt. And C-4. He tossed a block of C-4 to Joamer.

“Use that to get some pants,” Skarr taunted. Joamer’s eyes went wide and he smiled. It was the joyous smile of a child at his birthday. Joamer and Val lead them to the banquet room. The large room was full of party-goers. Skarr and Beta were told to wait. It was a few minutes before Skarr felt an enraged presence coming their way.

“Havock, I can explai-” Skarr began.

“You dented my fucking ship!” Havock scolded. Skarr was about to say something in his defense, but he thought about it and turned to Beta.

“His fault.” Beta looked at Skarr wide-eyed and Havock began verbally lashing the poor guy. Skarr slipped away only to find himself looking down on a Noghri.

“I am Bakhrn clan Nim’bar, I hear that you are the leader of our Noghri compatriot,” the Noghri stated. Skarr nodded. The Noghri must be talking about Demented. “Uhh, yeah. I’m Norith clan Skarr and I’m not sure he’s here yet.” The Noghri nodded and walked off. He shook his head slightly and began turning his head. He needed a bar.

OOC:

Not my best post to be sure. But I just wanted my introduction up there and running.

Heliwer could hear Havock from the bar and sighed.

“Women,” He scoffed. “Always complaining about the slightest things. I mean, a dent in the ship? This is ridiculous.”

He disregarded the glass and drank straight from the bottle.

Might as well go see, he thought. Might be something funny happening.

The command to get off the stool went through ok. It was the standing up straight part that took his body a while to register. Feeling puzzled, he looked at the bottle, which was about half empty. He shook his head to clear some of the effects and attempted walking into the banquet room, only to stumble here and there. His face started feeling hot, so he undid his tie and the top buttons of his suit, making him look even more like a drunk.

After stumbling into several party goers, Heliwer finally made it into the banquet room. It wasn’t hard to spot Havock and Joamer. He began his journey over there and was almost there when his eyes spotted Joamer’s pants. He snickered at first, gaining Joamer’s attention, then burst out laughing.

“Oh my god!” He spluttered. “Who dressed you? A color-blind Jawa? Seriously man! No self-respecting guy would ever wear pink pants. And spandex?!”

Tears rolled out from the laughter, which interrupted Havoc’s ‘conversation’ with Beta. He spotted Havock and continued laughing.

“Heck, maybe you lost a bet to her! There goes your integrity now!”

He took a swig from the bottle as painful memories flooded back. A New Republic prison. A rescue mission for a Hutt cartel. Two blaster shots. The tears continued flowing, but with sadness, and he kept himself laughing to keep from outright bawling from the memory.

Why did she have to die?

OOC:

This is a small glimpse into the past, mainly to one certain event that completely changed Heliwer completely. Hope you like it

Joamer stared at the newest addition to the squad. A young, slightly taller man sat hunched over a bottle. He appeared to be on just this side of insane as he half laughed and half wept.

He had read the man's file, his past was shady. Not as colorful as his own, but still a decent mix of skills for the squads newest pin cushion. However, the insolence this man radiated at every turn annoyed him.

"Heliwer Garrarth, pirate, merc, and now a Storm Trooper." Joamer said quietly, his eyes seemingly ignoring the drunk man. "We've not been introduced at all. I'm Joamer, the Assistant Squad Leader to RAIDERS. Which means I'm the right hand of God. God being the woman you are currently laughing at."

He was not sure if he was getting to the have manic drunk, but he did not really care he could continued talking slowly enough so maybe the simple individual would understand. "Some other time we can discuss our pasts, and see who has a more colorful history. Till that time you need to know one thing. You have exactly zero experience in this line of work. You may think you are older, but I guarantee you I have nearly two decades on you. Tonight, have fun. Tomorrow, well. Tomorrow is a whole new day."

With that Joamer and Valthir, with a single nod to Havock who was about to kill Beta and Skarr, strode out of the room. He ignored the new group of Noghri who turned to look at him, recognition flashing in their eyes as they realized he was the one who killed Der'Uryt. Ignoring them, and ignoring the sudden pain well up in his chest over the memories of that campaign he walked out of the room.

The noise died down slowly as they distanced themselves from the party. He tapped the block of C-4 Skarr had given him before Havock had descended on the two men. He had no idea what he was going to use it for at all.

"So, where are we going to find you pants?" Valthir asked as he kept up. Pretty soon only their foot steps were heard as the ended up in some distant part of the ship.

Stopping suddenly Joamer looked around a corner to a single guard standing in front of a door. Smiling half to himself he said quietly "Somewhere in the security area I would imagine."

Putting on a drunken smile he stumbled around the corner and slowly, while crashing into the walls a few times and almost tripping, began making his way towards the guard. "Isss, needz be...eer." Joamer managed to say right before he started hiccuping.

The guard, good at his job, placed a hand on his DE-10 pistol then said "Sir, turn around. This is a restricted ar." The last word was cut off as Joamer reached the man, grabbed him by the neck and fired. His small holdout blaster pressed into the man's stomach nearly silenced the blast. The body slumped to the floor a second later unconscious.

Waiting for a few seconds Joamer listened for any signs of alarm. Hearing none he opened a second door and began dragging the man into a supply closet. Removing the guards jacket and pants he quickly put them on. After a moment he clasped the simple weapons belt on as well.

Valthir walked up as he was checking the guards DE-10 and shook his head. "Well, least you found pants. Though, when he wakes up he is going to sound the alarm."

Sighing softly, Joamer grabbed a power cord of some type and quickly tied the man up. Then placed a gag from a old rag into the man's mouth and tied it with some more cord. "Full powered stun from a DE-10 would knock him out for what? Two hours maybe?" Joamer said as he flipped a switch on the guard's pistol.

Valthir shrugged and walked out of the room as Joamer fired again. Holstering the weapon he used the security card on the door and walked through. Valthir followed a second later acting like he was being given a tour of the facilities.