A week had gone by, and Tanus was getting restless; he had been running more and more every day, studying more languages, going down to the shooting range or going to sparring arena. It soon became apparent that he had absolutely nothing to do. The rest of the squad was beginning to feel it too: Garryll was going stir crazy and he hadn’t actually seen Orobos in days. However, the one bonus to all this was something he always treasured: watching the sunset with a glass of scotch in his hand. One day, while at the shooting range, working with his SLAR, a runner came up to Tanus, holding a piece of flimsy and sweating; Tanus then realized it wasn’t too hot and that the runner was somewhat heavy set. Wow, this is a very poor joke. I wonder if Angel had something to do with this. He set down his rifle and wiped his hands of sweat from the grip.

“Yes? I take it you have something for me or you wouldn’t interrupt the man with the gun. So hand it over and leave.”

The fat man handed him the letter, which had some sweat marks on it. Tanus sighed in disgust as the fat man waddled off out the door. As he read it over, his eyes widened a little and a smile crept across his face. And here’s to hoping my practice paid off. Tanus slung his SLAR over his shoulder and headed out the door back to the barracks.



He headed to central command of Storm Platoon – which was better known as Angel’s office. The door slid open, and Tanus saw two rather familiar faces: Angel, as was custom, sitting behind his desk thumbing through paperwork. And then Tanus saw one face he hadn’t expected to see again in a long while. Commander Saul Ipiad stood up, holding a folder under his arm and a small, thin smile across his razor sharp face. Angel barely looked up as Tanus shook Saul’s hand and took a seat.

“I take it you two remember each other. If that’s the case, we can skip the pleasantries and move straight on to business. Tanus, Captain Ipiad -.”

Tanus turned away from Angel and looked at Ipiad’s several medals; there was in fact a new adornment on his uniform. Tanus smiled inwardly and then turned back to Angel, who was looking somewhat annoyed that he had been sidelined for a shiny new medal. At least the right people kept their jobs, and even better they were recognized for it.

“Now, if I can continue, Captain Ipiad wanted to talk to you personally about this next mission. It seems that last time you two met, you were tasked with taking on a pair of pirate vessels attempting to take a cargo vessel, the Seraph. Now, normally, this would not be a problem, as pirate attacks on vessels are fairly common, especially since our colony is on the outskirts of the mid rim. Whatever the case, Intel stated that there was only one pirate vessel following the Seraph. Now, most pirates vessels, especially an Interceptor IV, can take a Gallofree without much effort, especially considering weapon compliments. Now, the cause for concern is that there were two pirate vessels, meaning that they knew we were coming, even if they didn’t know what our strength was. This means we have a leak somewhere in the system, and for the moment, I’ll let Ipiad talk to you about the plan.”

Tanus turned to Ipiad, who removed an elastic from the file edged and handed it to Tanus. He put his rifle on the floor and grabbed the folder, thumbing through it, taking in all of them important points. When he was done, he set the folder on Angel’s desk and looked between both Ipiad and Angel.

“Okay, so there is a leak in Army or Navy Intel, possibly both. This isn’t Blackjack’s forte; in fact, this is more Jester’s deal. So what do you want us to do?”

Ipiad cleared his throat and shuffled the brooch at his neck, loosening the base of his uniform.

“Well, you are correct Sergeant, this is more for your PC and his squad to take care of, but given your background as an ARC, I think you could be better used while your PC takes care of his duties.”

Tanus arched his eyebrow at the mention of his time as an ARC; Ipiad had been thorough.

“All right, that’s all well and good, but either way, Blackjack’s main point is putting holes in people and places, not routing around for information.”

Ipiad continued. “I know. But this is going to be helpful for both of us. You’re going to work extensively in army intel, while I’ll have one of my own men in navy intel in our unit going through files and watching everything. I ask that that you utilize all of your men in this so we can get this over with quickly.”

Tanus eyed the two of them strangely. “What do you mean quickly? What more could there be?”

Angel spoke up again. “The problem here is that two ships were attacking the Gallofree, not one. That means that the pirates have a base of ops, and given the rate they caught up to the Gallofree, it could not have been far off from the colony or its main staging area for trade. After you find the leak, you’re launching with the Savior again, this time to the coordinates to the pirates’ base of ops and bringing them down.”

Tanus sighed in relief; at least there would be some shooting after all.



Tanus walked into the ready room of Blackjack, still carrying his rifle and now a folder with the new mission. He sent out a message to all members of Blackjack to be there in ten minutes, sooner if possible, as he left Angel’s office. When he got there, Garryll and Tank were already waiting, and soon after the others filed in. Tanus put his rifle up against the wall and walked up in front of the others, Garryll off to his right. He started talking as everyone found their seat.

“Morning all. I see that there are some new faces in the squad. Welcome all to Blackjack squad. Our profile is blowing everything up, and we’re damn good at it. To begin, we have a new mission. As many of you recall, last week we put down a pirate force attempting take a Gallofree from a colony we control. This was all well and good, considering we thought it would be one freed transport, a few dead pirates and liquor all around for a job well done. Well, as you know, that wasn’t the case. A few of use went AWOL and the mission was a lot more bloody than it was first let on to be. Normally, this would not be a cause for concern, but there was something amiss there: we took on two pirate ships. Now, I wouldn’t think anything on this, considering it’s a military transport and pirates are always looking for more loot. However, Intel thinks we have a leak, and based on a talk I had with both Angel and Captain Ipiad, I’m inclined to agree.”

Tanus handed off the folder to Garryll, who after looking at it handed it to everyone else.

“That is our mission. We are to infiltrate Intel and find the snitch and get whatever info from him we can. After that, we’re going with Ipiad on the [i]Savior[i/] and routing the pirates wherever they are. We start tomorrow everyone. Get a good night’s rest and have a decent breakfast. I want this to go off without a hitch. That is all Blackjack. Dismissed.”

OOC:

Post like the wind kids. After three days, I want us to find the snitch in the Intel department and move out.

Terra Lorn furrowed her brow in distaste at her barbaric colleagues, frowning as they resigned consideration for her thoughts. The odorous vapors of the steaming herd beast cast themselves murkily over Terra's face, and she pinched her nose as the smell interloped with cigar smoke.

You're all meat.

Despite his slovenly manner, Terra respected Gates. She didn't know much about him yet, but, as protocol demanded, she owed him such reverence at the very least. Rank meant status, and power - if Terra were to navigate and champion the hierarchy, she would have to obey by that which she would someday enforce.

Terra grinned. Gates could even get his lunch tray carried for him.

At least, she admitted, her superiors allowed her personality to pronounce itself. Her dissent, while mocked, remained unchallenged - not once had mouthing off earned Terra an insubordination report, and Tanus seemed rather indifferent to the banter exhanged.

Bantha rump was still disgusting.

Such minor grievances were distracting, and Terra suddenly remembered to keep her head in the game. Her stomach ached against her pelvis, tickling her bladder with anticipation. If any had been watching, they might have noticed her pale cheeks flush the richest crimson.

She was scared. Despite her intense training, and absolute preparedness, the prospect of war was a terrifying one.

The lady stormtrooper tried to avoid the pitfalls of fear by focusing her thoughts elsewhere...

Her black hair was unkempt and sweaty, a side effect of full-battle dress simulation. Terra had donned the suit in an effort to familiarize herself with it, inspecting and testing her systems to insure that they would be battle ready.

She might have been overdressed for the mess hall, but what did she care?

Cradling the plastoid head of her personal armor, Terra picked at the cellular padding with her fingernails. An earring had torn at the edge of the insulator, and she would sometimes find herself scratching curiously at the peel.

Toying with the helmet, she tucked her chin into her chest, glancing over the enhanced powersuit. Her wristcom blinked on standby, and the forearm-mounted force blades displayed a calming green charge.

Credits well spent.

If only S'hada could see this.

Marilys had left Tadath shortly before Terra had left for mess, although without explaining herself. She coldly promised a quick return, and for the first time since leaving Naboo, Terra yearned in earnest for another. Rigorous training sessions had rendered more intimate time rare, though it appeared as if it would pay off unexpectedly...

Recon?

Blackjack was not a clandestine outfit, and certainly did not specialize in subversive tactics - so why were they assigned a reconnaissance mission? It seemed mildly impractical to impute assault troopers with such a delicate scheme. She considered that, perhaps, her arcane set of skills would come in handy - but was it worth the risk of revealing her enterprise?

She concluded that it was not up to her anyways, and therefore, she kept such apprehension beneath the stolid stoicism of her tongue. Contradicting her superiors was not likely to earn her a promotion...

Ever the humble servant of the Empire, Terra abdicated her own misgivings, securing her blaster's magazine. It sunk in with an expectant click, and Terra secured the DT-57 to her thigh. She watched idly as Gates left, neither bothering to say goodbye to the other.

Finishing her Ahrisa, Terra's white boots slammed against the floor as she hopped up from her chair, leaving the vanilla tray atop the table.

The droid would get it.

She made haste to her barracks - she needed to shower before heading home to her small apartment. Piecemeal would likely want to be fed before she left...

A few hours and a few dozen curses later, Gates finished cleaning his weapons and Stormtrooper Officer's Uniform. He would likely never get back the time he had spent fiddling with the tiny medals, chevrons, and epaulets that had stacked up in his career as a soldier.

He took a relieved sigh and stretched, his joints popping as his arms stressed frozen muscles. Garryll glanced at the clock; 0100. He sighed, and wiped his eyes tiredly.

"Un-frickin'-believable.." he muttered, slapping the duty uniform. "Ten frickin' things took six hours to put on."

He continued his annoyed muttering for another ten minutes as he carefully put all his personal weapons and uniform away. The ASL was getting up to about fifteen minutes of tirade when a knock came at his door. Gates opened the portal, and Tanus was outside.

"What's up, boss?" Gates asked, yawning.

"We're going in tomorrow at 0600. Get some sleep."

"Lovely. Could you have told me this four hours ago?"

"I just thought it up a few minutes ago - we go in early, and the bureaucrats just let us in. No one's the wiser, and the mole, if there is one, won't find us. I told the rest of the squad."

"Right," Gates replied, nodding and yawning again. "I need to sleep, then."

The door shut, cutting off the SL's bemused look. Gates turned, walked over to his bed, and fell heavily into it, sleepily setting his alarm to wake him at 0530...

*Four and a half hours later*

Gates bolted up from his prone position, and fell out of the bed. He stood, cursing. Once he had identified the offending noise - his alarm clock- he slammed the snooze button, and then the off button.

Another ten minutes later, he emerged, dressed in his Stormtrooper's Duty Uniform (worn twice, now), freshly shaved and showered, a combat knife up his sleeve, a sidearm is his belt and a FOX Machine-pistol under his jacket.

He emerged into the mess hall, the second awake, behind Tanus. The SL was silently looking over a datapad that displayed a screen filled with text and occassional pictures. He, also, was in a uniform. Gates detoured to pick up a half-dozen cups and a pot of coffee, still steaming.

After sitting and pouring himself a cup of coffee, Gates spoke. "Morning!"

Tanus, without looking, poured himself a cup of coffee, not spilling anything. "You're bright and chipper," he remarked, scrolling down on the datapad. "Anyway, once the rest of the squad shows up, we'll head for the Intelligence Center. There, we'll meat Ipiad's liason, some ex-ISB, now Navy Intel officer. Then we'll investigate the electronics, and so on."

"What about the rest of Blackjack? They don't have officer-level access," replied Gates, blowing softly on the boiled water now browned.

"Ipiad's thought of that. The Agent will have temporary access for all of us, pretty high security rating. We'll have the run of most of the info we'll need, and if we can't, he's there to help us out."

"Great," Gates said, pushing his chair onto its two rear legs and taking a sip from his cup. "This'll be easy."

Hell of a day...Tank mused.  Thinking about Saphira had distracted him and he was nearly late to the squad's briefing earlier.  When he got there he nearly ran right into the bustiest Private First Class he'd ever seen.  Inwardly Tank thanked the Force he recovered quickly; making a fool of himself in front of his peers simply would not do.  Terra Lorn was the newest member of BlackJack, training as a Combat Medic makes her an essential addition to the team; other members rotated out to gods-know-what missions.

Plugging the leak is one thing; finding the traitor is another Tank thought as he reflected on the mission.  His shiney new MGC M93R-AP Auto-9 Pistols were definitely out for any covert actions, but he was hopeful Tanus would approve them for the raid later on.

At the mess hall Sergeant Gates was already up to his (un)usual antics.  Tank still couldn't fathom why Garryll would address him while facing Orobos.  Tank contemplated trying to get to know the new recruit, but decided there'd be time later.  He had to do something else first.

Marching back to the Ebon Shyrack he thought about what he would say to her.  He was on autopilot when he responded to the greetings of his droid companions, sealing his quarters for privacy.  Marshalling his nerves he called Saph.

His heart skipped a beat as her face appeared onscreen, but the elation faded with the realization it was a recording...

Quote:
"You've reached the residence of Sergeant Saphira Striker; I'm on assignment now but you know the drill!"

  "Beeeep!"

"Hey Saph, we really didn't get to talk before BlackJack's last mission...  Well, I'm thinking next time we're both on Tadath, I could buy you dinner and we could talk."  Tank hoped he was doing the right thing as he swallowed the lump in his throat.  "Well, take care of yourself!  I'm sure you'll keep Iron Horse in line, no problem.  'Till then."  Tank terminated the call and slowly released a heavy sigh.  Using controlled breathing as a focus, he willed himself to be calm. He had a mission to prep for.  Changing to the light grey enisted trooper's uniform and black cap, he strapped his DT-57 Heavy Blaster Pistol to his right thigh, his father's CDEF Pistol on his left.  The M32 Combat Knife went on his tool belt, his vehicle crewman's gear making the weapon less obvious yet no less accessable for when he'll need it.

Terra nearly missed Antillies' introduction as her eyes bore past the calm aired man. Behind the deliberate tangle of wire-twine, she noticed a severe featured woman bearing the flags of rank, a lulling jacket of grey casing her skinny figure in uniformity.

Terra grinned.

The female major did not seem captivated by Terra's gaze, hardly noticing her presence. The Private waited for a moment, hoping to somehow stare her into submission, but to no avail - the woman could not feel the youth's admiring eyes pressed against her.

Disappointed, Terra frowned wryly, quietly returning to the activity of her squad. They had already continued along a sweeping lobby, demanding a soft jog from the daydreaming girl. Skidding to a silent halt, she collided with her ASL slightly, offering a nervous (and unusual) smile to his quizzical reaction.

He seemed to accept it, resigning himself to Antillies' words with a judicious blink.

"Here's your clearance. Scan them into the computer, and you'll have the access you need." the officer advised, granting Terra an almost flimsy docket that she turned over in her hand. The rest of Blackjack received similar cards, though she was the last in line.

Taking her assigned seat, Terra slipped the keycard into the computer's input, which responded with a pleasant breedle as it read the device. The processor hummed as it programmed complex algorithms, the dark screen flickering to life with darting white text. It was the banal lexicon any who had ever used a keypad were plainly accustomed to seeing. The difference here was the sudden flash of cryptic security codenames and flagged topics suddenly offering themselves to Terra's curiosity. She felt an overwhelming surge of importance and satisfaction glide over her -

Knowledge certainly was power.

Unsure exactly where to begin, Terra searched for any material relating to the Seraph's recent activity. She was met with the standard drivel and protocol, from status reports to Imperial inspections, to staffing lists and medical transfers. It was, according to Blackjack's intents and purposes, all useless information. Terra's eyelids felt heavy, hardly surprised at her failure to discover anything of interest.

Recalling what she could of the briefing file, Terra remembered that there were two vessels assailing the Seraph, which meant that the setup had to have been planned by someone who knew where the ship was traveling to, where from, and when. As a cargo vessel, the Seraph's coordinates and various logs were available to plenty. However, it was highly unlikely that any Imperial merely performing his daily routines was likely to research all of the information.

What they needed was a lead to someone who requisitioned unnecessary amounts of otherwise ordinary chapter and verse...

What's this?

Accessing the systems recent documents and logins, Terra prayed that whoever perpetrated the betrayal had forgotten to cover their tracks - who, if they were at all clever, would betray the mighty Empire?

The logs possessed no name, but rather, an electronic address, a signature designating the user's login area, date and time.

One of them was all over the Seraph.

Their only hope now, was that the leak had used a personal clearance card, and not a fabricated, vanilla agenda like the ones Blackjack had borrowed.

"Uhm, Tanus...Gates...you should come over here..."

Tank followed the ID-numbers on network servers as he made his way to one of the access point indicated on his datapad.  Tank froze for a moment, listening intently.  I'm not alone here...  Cautiously he advanced.  From behind  server MI3288.9d came a vicious roundhouse that broke Tank's nose and sent the trooper staggering back.  Tank barely dodged the follow-up and rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding a second assailant.  Great!  There's two of them!  The brute that broke his nose was taller and thickly built, but the second guy couldn't be more than one-point-six meters and rail-thin.  Both were in martial art stances that meant business.  Crap.  I really wish Saph was here...  Tank wondered if his adversaries were even human...

Tank jumped back to avoid a grab by the big guy but the little guy was faster and delivered a flurry of rapid blows to Tank's ribs.  Tank grabbed wiry's arms in a move that surprised him and threw him bodily into the brute.  Hard.  But not hard enough as they recovered quickly.

Tank was having difficulty blocking and dodging the blows raining upon him.  Not a martial artist like Saphira, but she did teach him to fight dirty.  Tank made a feint attack at the brute, then caught the brute's wrist and pulled his arm down with all his weight to block a kick from wiry.  *KRACK!*

"Ggyaaahhhhhh!" the Brute roared as Wiry's kick had the effect Tank desired; namely breaking the Brute's arm.  Wiry's next attack was pre-empted by Private First Class Terra's boot impacting his groin with sufficent force to send him briefly airborne.  As Wiry collapsed into a ball Tank and  Terra tore into the Brute.  Tank returned the earlier favor by breaking his nose and upped the ante by dislocating the arm that wasn't broken.

When he tried to run away Terra ran and did just enough of a flying kick to his knee that she broke his leg.  Grabbing Wiry by the throat and dragging him over to his fallen comrade, Tank admired Terra's handiwork.  That has got to hurt Tank thought, smiling has he saw the leg bent at the wrong angle.  "Thanks for the assist, Terra!"

"My pleasure, Tank.  Ow!  You better let me see that.." she said as she opened her medkit to treat Tank's nose.

..."Find Smith. Once we find him, we'll take him, and find who he's working for and with. And then we'll find them." Gates said.

H walked over to GSGT Gates.

"Sir, If you want me to be able to use the computer, I need a passcode of some sort."

"Oh, yes." He replied. "Antillies, do you have an extra keycard?"

"Yes, let me get one." Antillies replied.

He pulled out a card, and handed it to H. H walked over to a computer station, inserting his keycard as he sat down. The computer responded with a pleasant noise, as the computer screen flickered to life.

Well, I guess the first step is to find out who this guy is.

H pulled up the search engine.

"Quentin Smith, let's see who you are..." H muttered to himself.

The computer completed the search quickly.

NO MATCH was flashing in large letters on the screen.

Hmm.. so either you are using an alias, or I don't have the clearance to see who you are, or maybe Mr. Frieze just made up a name and was lying.

He searched Dylon Frieze. H really didn't think it would work, but he was lost for ideas.

This time he hit the Jackpot.

Ok, Dylon Frieze, okay height, weight, yeah home planet unknown yeah yeah, da da da, okay criminal record, that's what I'm looking for. Okay he was convicted for piracy, attacking Imperial ships 4 years ago. Known associates, Steven Pollot, James Smith, Derek Jurter. Bingo, James Smith, Quentin Smith. Coincidence? I don't think so... He thought to himself.

"Gates, I think I found something weird..."

Alater opened the door as he usually did; with too much force. A large bang accompanied the door almost entering the opposing wall. All of this was swiftly followed by the sound of a dozen weapons leaving their holsters, as quick as most trigger happy stormtroopers are. This, mixed with the general tension in the room, quickly lead to a pistol or two being shoved into the face of door-opener.

To say that face would be inaccurate, as the one who had opened the door stood a staggering seven and a half feet tall. To be more specific Garyll was pointing his weapon somewhere at Alater's abdominal area. The giant Barabel grinned down at his old squadmate who barely had time to react before all of the sleeping officials in the room began to panic.

"Hey!" Alater roared, his voice booming throughout the room, "My name is Sergeant Alater Osted, and I'm here as Blackjack's official liaison." The sergeant reached into a pouch and motioned a mildly haggard looking Commander over. The commander came over, looked over the black ID card that Alater showed him, and nodded to the rest of the men in the room.

"Psst." Orobos muttered, tapping Tanus with an oversize foot. The squadleader hopped up in his seat, pretending innocence.

"Wha..," he muttered, looking around, "I wasn't...Alater?!" Tanus jumped out of his chair to shake Alater's hand, and turned back to the squad.

"Listen up Blackjack, this is Alater Osted, from Barab, as you can tell. He was a founding member of Blackjack and my ASL at one point. He is currently returning to us from a long and probably classified stint with whatever Special Forces had him doing. I imagine he's been sent back to help us out with our current mission. Don't be put off by his large size and ugly face, he's actually a nice guy." Tanus said, looking at each of the newer squadmembers. The last comment earned the small man a rather sharp poke from an extended claw.

Alater turned to the squad as a whole, then back to Tanus.

"Thank you Tanus. I am Alater Osted, hunter. I serve as a Heavy Weapons Specialist and occasionally work 'other' duties. For those of you who served under me in the past, I am no longer your Assistant Squad Leader. I want to clear this up right now, I am not an authority now. Thanks, and lets get back to work." Alater finished, pocketing his ID card and turning to talk with Tanus for a moment.

(OOC: I know it's short, I'm studying for exams :P)

Tanus nodded at the voice in his ear, which Alater could no longer hear. He sighed a bit as he reminisced about the 'good 'ol days'. There had been a time when it was his voice that Tanus had coming through that command line in his ear. Alater snapped back to reality as Tanus turned to him. He eyed H and Alater for a moment before signaling to the back door. Alater understood; hard and fast. Alater grabbed for Long Fang on his back and stepped near the door. Tanus mouthed the count down.

"Three....Two....One..."

Alater bursted through the reinforced wooden door with little trouble, crushing the man that had been standing in front of it. Tanus and H filed in behind him and they began to spread out in a small three-man fan. As Tanus and H lay down small arms fire Alater did what he did best: shredded small pinkskins. Only three guards were left, standing around a security console, all slow to turn and draw their weapons.

The first went down with a concentrated burst from Tanus' weapon exploding from his chest. The second was cleaved from ear to navel when Long Fang found its mark. The spray of blood temporarily covered Alater's midnight scales before the droplets began to half seep into his scales. The third fired three rounds from his pistol into the Barabel's chest, only to stand in amazement as the Barabel simply stared at him. He died with a look of shock and a hole through his throat.

"Good work H. Hit 'em hard, hit 'em fast I always say." Tanus said, dragging bodies and weapons back to the console. Alater picked up the dismembered parts of his victim's  body and plopped them off with the rest. Many stormtroopers would have used a lower power setting, or even a stun setting, but Blackjack left few witnesses and many bodies. It was all part of the job.

"Sir, we've got a security console, and I can see the other entry teams finishing their jobs now." H said, staring down at a security monitor. Alater and Tanus walked over and looked down at the screens as they watched TK administer a mercy shot. Alater smiled at the young trooper. He had often been naive, quick talking, and so young but he was developing a sense for killing that one got in a squad like Blackjack.

"This is Blackjack squad to Lead, we're clear up here how about you guys?" Came the sound of Garyll as he could be seen pushing the comm at his ear.

"Squad this is Lead, we're clear back here. Best guess that target is upstairs, and we've got something resembling a security entrance here. Do you guys have a main stair?" Tanus responded, flicking through security vids.

"Roger that lead, one over priced set of stairs straight ahead." Came Garyll's voice as the security footage switched to show a swiveling view of a destroyed door, dead bodies, and a third of Blackjack squad holding weapons.

"Alright, let's head up and see if we can't get 'em from both ends. Meet you up there. Lead out." Tanus said and started leading his group towards the small, cramped, and wonderfully dark back stairwell.

Gates tapped Tanus' shoulder. "Shouldn't we find out anything else we can about this guy, chief?"

Tanus licked his lips impatiently. "Strange of you to be so methodical, Garryll."

"I'm in a thinking kind of mood today, Tanus."

Tanus nodded. Gates walked over to Pollot. He sat down next to the bleeding criminal.

"So, Mr. Pollot, how many guards were here today?"

The spat some blood onto the pristine carpet. "Uhm, four of 'em and the security chief. They put me in here and told me to wait for their boss."

Tanus stood up abruptly. "Shit." he muttered.

"Who is the security chief? Where would he be in the facility?" Gates pressed.

"Uhm, the security center, a few halls down, near the middle of the place."

"And about the chief?"

"He's a big guy, likes to brag about how he used to be spec ops."

Gates waved Terra over. "Guard this guy while we find that chief and take him down."

She didn't look happy, but nodded.

The rest of the squad ran out the door. They looked quickly through the rooms, eventually finding a small sign that pointed towards the security center. Finally, they stopped outside the door marked security.

Gates whispered to the rest of the squad; "We'd likely want this one alive. He may know where Smith is."

"Copy, sir," chorused several of the junior soldiers.

"Okay...GO, GO, GO!" Gates yelled, firing his maching pistol into the lock, blowing it apart and rendering the door basically useless. It fell open, clanging heavily onto the metal floor. A muscular but heavy man was twisting in his seat, reaching for a sidearm at his belt. Tanus blew it out of his hands with one precise shot.

The security guard slowly raised his hands at the five light weapons leveled at him. "Are you the security chief of this facility?"

"Yes. Please don't kill me," the fat man said relatively calmly.

"Do you have the whereabouts of one Quentin Smith?"

"No."

Gates cocked his machine pistol.

"Honestly! I don't know! I gave him a warning when the comm to our assassin team went dead!"

"Frieze and the big dumbass? That's your idea of a team of assassins against a half-dozen Stormtroopers?"

"Well...yes."

"Pathetic. Anyway, if you can warn him away, you can give him the all-clear. Tell him that you and the guards managed to fight us off, he can grab his stuff and run, now."

"Well, okay. If it won't get me killed."

"It won't. It might not even get you any jail time," Gates said cheerily.

The fat man turncoat quickly spun up his mic. "Boss, this is Vlad. Those bastard stormies, yeah, me and the men fought 'em off. They ain't so tough. But they might be onto us, boss, so we got to get out of here soon, and I don't know the combination for your safe."

Gates raised an eyebrow at the assessment of the Stormtroopers' abilities.

'Vlad' shut the mic off. "Well, Mr. Smith is coming back with all due haste."

"Excellent. How many men does he usually travel with?"

"Two; his permanent cheffuer/body guard and a rotating security guard. One of his house staff."

"Thank you. Now, you'll just be put in with your guest until we get this all sorted out."

The fat man sighed and heaved himself out of the chair, and was quickly led away by Tank and Reese.

Tanus started talking. "Here's the plan: Alater, go move the transport behind the facility. Gates, put the door back on its hinges, and the knob back in if possible. After that, Alater and Gates, hide in the closest mini-forest, Tank and I will be right around the corner, out of sight, and the rest will be right inside the door. And someone make sure to lock our captives up."

'Vlad' lied.  Quentin Smith's 'entourage' was one huge luxury landspeeder with an escort of three security speeders; all black.  They parked in unison, then simultaneously disgorged a few dozen thugs in black suits.  Armed.

Tank and Tanus watched the goons as they approached the door Gates had hastily repaired (shoved back into place as best as time would allow), relatively safe as they were positioned around the corner of the building.  The first man to the door seemed dumbfounded as to how he could open a door missing it's dooknob; his partner smacked him upside the head and removed the busted door, setting it aside.  The first group of eight men cautiously entered the complex and were summarily shot down dead or wounded by the rest of BlackJack laying in wait; all seven of them!

Before Smith could order his thugs otherwise, six more rushed in to the same fate, a staccato of DT-57 Heavy Blaster fire punctuating their tactical error.  As Smith tried to reign in his remaining 'muscle' Tanus capitalised on the moment of chaos with his own DT-57 Heavy Blaster; Tank followed suit with his DT-57 and CDEF blasters.  The whithering fire of combined rapid shots swiftly cut the number of remaining goons in half; the others follwed their leader back to the vehicle for cover.

The tangle of bodies held the rest of BlackJack from exiting the building but Tanus pressed the advantage, dashing after Smith, picking off goons as he closed the distance.  Tank ran to keep up, laying suppression fire at those thugs he couldn't target cleanly, wishing he had his Squad Leader's speed and skill.  As Tanus reached the front of the limo Tank saw Smith peek out from behind the landspeeder's tail end then hide again.

Passing by the driver's door was a mistake; Tank was hit hard when the chauffeur opened the door with speed and force.  Ow!  I miss my commando armor! was the Stormtrooper's only thought as he was smacked down on the street so fast the fall didn't even register; just the pain of double impacts, front and back.  He barely rolled out out of the way as a boot landed where his head had been.

Tumbling away and struggling to stand Tank sized up the chauffeur.  She was as tall as he was, brunette, and in a martial arts stance that made him think of Saphira.  This is gonna hurt  Getting his wits about him he saw his blasters had skidded far out of reach.  Tank took a defensive posture, let her come to me...

She was not one to wait, as her patience ran out she charged him.  Tank feinted left and delivered a right hook to her shoulder, barely knocking her off ballance.  She recovered more quickly than Tank anticipated, dodging his follow-up maneuver and rewarding it with a sharp kick to his groin.

Her mistake was not knowing Tank.  In the same motion as he doubled over his fist whipped her gut, sending briefly airborne before she landed on the pavement.  Tank's blow had knocked the wind out of her but landing on the street knocked her out before he dropped to his knees, then landed on his back.

Tanus meanwhile had been challenged by three thugs.  Not only did he beat them in the 3-on-1 knife-fight,  but was subduing and cuffing Smith as the rest of the squad caught up.

"Ow..."

**deleted**

Half an hour after calling Antillies, Blackjack squad was relieved. Navy and Army Intelligence Operatives descended on the complex like a swarm of locusts, gathering prisoners, taking names, cleaning up the dead bodies, dusting for finger prints, interrogating the prisoners with a great deal more subtlety than breaking fingers and yelling.

Gates carefully traced a line in the sand with the toe of his boot, then marked it out. The rest of Blackjack lazed around him. Alater was smoking, Tank was carefully modifying their transport with a screwdriver and a hydrospanner, Reese calmly stared around, H and Terra sat impatiently, both itching for some real combat. Tanus calmly talked with an Intel Officer. The ASL checked his gun again; less than half a clip expended on several soft targets, no real challenge.

Tanus finished his conversation with the officer. "We're moving out, onto the Savior. We'll get a more through brief on the ship."

They loaded into the transport, Tank quickly reattaching the metal plate covering what he'd been working on with a sheepish grin, before clambering into the driver's seat. He drove at a good pace, the hot metal ticking lightly as it met cooler air outside of the walled complex, and the temperature dropped a noticeable degree, as well as the wind, dropping it another couple ticks.

The transport carried them quickly to their barracks; Garryll spotted a Lambada-class shuttle in the back, squatting heavily on the barracks landing pad. As they pulled into the barracks plaza, Gates opened the door and ushered them out. "Back landing pad. Bring your armor and the standard loadout of weapons, one extra choice."

Standard loadout called for M-82Gs, Gates carrying the Tyrant Chaingun, and others hefting the Stoukers, as well as their pistols and other close-combat weapons.

The tall human trooper quickly made his way to his office/room. There, he carefully typed numbers into the safe's catch, opening it. He hardly wanted a criminal to get in and then have a weapon to use against him in a hurry. In it were many of his own purchased weapons and armor; a dozen pistols, some rifles and sniper rifles, a pair of support weapons and even a small rocket launcher.

He quickly pulled out his M-82G, a solid, accurate weapon with excellent damaging capabilities, upgraded to house his favorite, multi-purpose scope and an increased rifled barrel to increase range and accuracy. He threaded a strap through it and threw it onto his back, followed by his powerful sidearm standard to the squad and a couple knives. He then carefully lifted the third and fourth items from his safe; a CZ-28 Flamethrower and his Katarn Combat Armor. He quickly unpacked the armor and put it on, then strung both rifles over his back. He'd pick up the chaingun on the way, and depending on the brief, take one secondary weapon or the other.

He quickly met the rest of the squad in the shuttle, where they were impatiently waiting for the ship to take off. He offered cigars around; Alater easily leaned over and grabbed one, as did several of the others. Gates then proceeded to have to light most every one's, as they had forgotten lighters or even matches.

The shuttle quickly launched after that, cutting quickly through the air, and humming deeply as it muscled its way into the void of space. Once into space, the humming quieted, and the wings clanked apart into cruise position. A scant ten minutes of flying later, and the wings shuttered loudly back into position, and they flew into the Savior, a Longhorn-class escort ship.

As Blackjack descended, they stubbed out cigars and slid them into belongings or jackets; smoking amongst munitions was a good way to die, and the Navy loved having bombs all over a hanger deck. A well-pressed officer waved them over, a small man at his elbow.

"Greetings, Blackjack, I'm Lt. Commander Hoshin, and this is Ensign Caldwell. The ensign will show the troopers to their barracks room, officers will please follow me to a quick briefing with the other officers."

The squad split up, officers going one way, the rest following the small ensign. Tanus looked side-along at his ASL, heavily toting three weapons. "Moron," he mouthed.

"Be prepared, that's what the boy scouts always said," Gate muttered back, drawing a snicker from the SL.

They entered a room with a half-dozen other men and a couple women. Hoshin sort of bowed and backed out. Gates dropped his weapons onto the floor, out of the way, and carefully set his helmet down onto the mess, before joining Tanus at the table. They made a quick set of introductions.

Ipiad walked in last, and waved everyone down. "Welcome, thank you all for coming." This was particularly funny because they had all been ordered to do so.

"Anyway, I'm sure you've all met one another, but I'll give some detail," he started, waving at the first man to his right, a large, well-built man just going to fat in some places. "This is Captain Jack Swit, CO of the Navy Longhorn-class Sabre. This is Captain Francine Niles, CO of the Navy Longhorn-class Silverado." He'd waved to a slight, Asian-looking woman who looked fragile. "And I'm Captain Saul Ipiad, and I'm in overall command and in charge of the Navy Longhorn-Class Savior. These are Gunnery Sergeants Tanus Solvona and Garryll Gates, Stormtrooper Corps, CO and XO of Blackjack, Assault Infantry, and this is Second Lieutenant Randel Cant, CO of the Marines onboard the Savior, specializing in Zero-G fighting; this is Senior Sergeant William Ornald, CO of the marines onboard the Silverado, good at tight-corridor fighting typical onboard ships; this is First Sergeant Jessi Gip, CO of the marines onboard Sabre, specializing in ship sabotage. This is Special Agent Antillies of Intel, and this is Captain Andrew Tylers, a slicer. Antillies will brief you all later; for now, I just wanted you all to meet one another.

They quickly filed out of the briefing; the shuttle that had carried Blackjack squad quickly moved between the other two Longhorns, dropping their COs and their marine commanders off. Gates looked over espionage probe reports with Tanus, and the rest of the squad quietly assembled armor or weapons.

Gates looked over the squad; Privates Reese and Lorn were green as grass; H had obvious combat experience, but didn't look as intimidating or as sure as Garryll would have liked. Fortunately, the last four members of the squad - Tanus, Tank, Alater and himself - he knew he could count on; Alater was practically bullet proof and had had some sort of spec-ops training, Tanus had been chosen for this crazy mission, after all, Tank was a veteran and reliable, and of course, he knew his own strengths lay in combat.

"Space station, likely," Tanus muttered to Gates, tracing a finger over los-res spy pictures. "And by the looks of this, a big one."

Gates peered at the poor pictures seized by the small probe. A large, pointy metal object, it could be seen amongst the asteroids blearily. It was large enough to dock several large freighters or corvette-class warships.

"Space station means claustrophobia-much," Gates replied. "Should we change the weapon loadout? Stoukers are worthless in point-blank conditions."

Tanus nodded absently. "And here's some obvious gun positions; asteroid-mounted, but you can land small ships into them."

Gates turned to the rest of the squad. "Squad, dump the Stoukers and get some combat shotguns from the armory!"

Alater and Tank picked the Stouker conc. rifles off of their backs and walked off to find the armory. The rest of the squad continued to inspect their own weapons. Gates dropped the chaingun, choosing the flamethrower over it.

A slight shudder rippled through the ship a few moments later, after Gates returned to his inspection of the probe's pictures. The task force had jumped to light speed.

----BRIDGE: SAVIOR----

Captain Saul Ipiad stared into the streaming blue lights as they flashed by his ship. They were stars, light bent by hyperspace as they screamed through the huge open spaces between pockets of life. Somewhere behind them were the Sabre and the Silverado. They would rendezvous with the sector authorities and their two ships near the Vergesso Asteroid Field.

A little less than an hour after they jumped from Tadeth, they dropped back into normal space, an effectively blank space with the Field a mere light-minute from them. A Carrack-cruiser and DP20 Gunship hung limply in space, their engines barely idling, their weapons cold and their shields down. The three Imperial Longhorn Cruisers were a bit larger than the Carrack, and more than three times longer than the DP20, and made an imposing sight. Quickly, they were hailed by the Sector Authority ships; their captains were a Commander Wilson and Commander Ron, of the Carrack and DP20 respectively.

"Here's the plan, gentlemen," Ipiad began, seated in his Captain's chair. "My task force will jump straight in, and draw the pirate scum out. Once we're engaged, we'll call you in to flank them, and crush them between hammer and anvil. They won't stand a chance."

The two Sector Authority Commanders voiced their consent, but the Imperial Captains stayed silent; they'd already helped hammer the plan out, and as simple as it was, the pirates would react reliably and simply attack, despite their poor odds.

"Ipiad out," Savior's Captain said. "Warm up the guns, get the pilots to their fighters. Shields up; get me a jump solution."

In under a minute, Ipiad gave the 'go' command, and the three Imperial ships jumped. Their jumps lasted exactly 22 seconds, a short light minute jump. Again, for the second time in ten minutes, they dropped from hyperspace, in formation. 30 TIE fighters and 6 TIE Interceptors boiled from the Longhorns' hangers. The dropships waited inside both for their orders and their marines.

The three ships smoothly slid forward, metal cutting through vacuum with no trouble at all. "Unknown contacts! 31 by 14!" an ensign said calmly, bringing pictures and tactical information to the main screen. "Contacts have been identified as pirate forces; 22 'Uglies' and 6 armed light freighters. TIEs are asking to engage."

Ipiad could see the enemy ships with his bare eyes; nearly two dozen small specks and six larger forms, moving slower. Uglies were mish-mash fighters that pirates favored; dangerous if the pirates were skilled and the combination was good, but more often just junk fighters. The freighters could be anything from gun platforms to running spice smugglers.

"TIEs clear to engage. Emperor's Hammer and Jundicator Squadrons are a go," Ipiad ordered, leaving Savior's own Interceptor-Fighter mixed Killshot squadron for cover. The two TIE squadrons flew past, waggling their wings in respect as they passed the bridge.

Quickly, the TIEs engaged, light flashing between the Imperials and Pirates, and the occassional brighter flash marking the death of a clumsy pilot. Chatter was shot between allies as often as lasers and missiles between the foes.

"Hammer Two, get it off me!" "Coming, boss." "Got one!" "Hell yes, Five!" "AUGH!" "They got Jund 11!"

The Longhorns crept closer to the fight. The ensign spoke up again. "More hostile contacts at 07 by 18. One CR90, three Marauder-class, two Broadsides, and a Tartan patrol cruiser. Also, 16 pirate uglies have appeared and engaged Killshot."

"Longhorns, you are clear to fire," Ipiad ordered. The three cruisers opened fire, turbolaser fire and lasers spitting from the ships to intercept the enemy corvettes. "More than we expected. Get me the Sector Authorities in here now."

An ensign at comms spoke quickly; his words were turned into light waves and shot through hyperspace and to the waiting Sector Authorities frigates. The two ships acknowledged their orders and locations and jumped into hyperspace, heading towards the fight.

The three Imperial frigates fought hard, exchanging missiles with the Marauders and Broadside cruisers, firing massive amounts of laser fire at the Tartan and CR90. And they were certainly giving better than they were getting. Already, two of the Marauders had holes in their hull, and the CR90 was turning to expose undamaged shields. Compare that to the barely damaged shields of the Savior and the Silverade and the minimal hull damage on the Sabre.

"Sir, those six light freighters are speeding towards, us," the ensign said, a small bead of sweat on his forehead. "Are they going to ram us? Have they filled them with explosives?"

The six freighters sped towards the undersides of the three Imperial cruisers, each not firing, just with engines pushing to overload. "No...they'd head towards the bridge or engines, so what could they..." replied Ipiad. The pirates' offensive seemed hopeless. The Sector Authorities would jump in behind the Pirate cruisers and would hammer them. Jundicator and Emperor's Hammer had slaughtered half of the Pirate Squadron and had them in a cat-and-mouse chase through the field. Killshot was still fighting the Uglies to a standstill.

Ipiad wondered what those freighters could be doing. "I don't care. Get me a couple lasers shooting at them."

Tanus was cleaning his Samurai Edge, switching out barrels and wiping down the slide, when he heard the klaxons. He didn’t remember getting up or holstering the pistol, nor did he remember grabbing his war hammer. All he did remember was seeing Garryll popping his head out if his room, toothbrush in his mouth and DT-57 in hand. Tanus walked over to him and looked him over; he seemed ready enough, albeit the toothbrush made him look a bit like a fool.

“Get the men and get armored up. Klaxons are never good, I want to keep us alive for as for as long possible. Meet me on the bridge as soon as you can.”

Garryll gave him an odd look; it wasn’t everyday you saw your CO walking down the hall with a pistol and war hammer.

“All right, will do. But don’t you think it’s a bit early for barn raising?”

Tanus ignored the jape and Garryll’s little smirk that followed; while he did not doubt that he looked odd, there was no time to fool around. He ran past ensigns and random personnel on his way up to the bridge of the Savior. He got some strange looks on the way up, but Tanus paid them no mind. Say what you will. When I start swinging you’ll be happy you’re bloody behind me. He got up to the bridge somewhat panting, considering he had nearly sprinted the entire way there. Ipiad was busy barking orders, calling for fire solutions and status reports. He turned to Ipiad’s aide attempting to stop Tanus. Tanus just look down at the man, eyes cold with indignation.

“Lad, if you don’t get out of my way now, I will find a way to jettison you into space rather violently. And no, I’m not talking of an escape pod.”

The aide stood back, absolutely terrified, as Tanus made his way up to Ipiad and stood to his right side. The man had his officer’s blaster at his, and from the looks of it, Ipiad may have to put it to use relatively soon. Tanus surveyed the men and women running around on the bridge. Looks like Ipiad’s been a busy boy.

“So, what’s our status? I know that klaxons are often never followed by good news.”

Ipiad barked an order at an ensign, asking for a fighter and ship report. He turned back to Tanus, giving him a look and an odd smile when he saw the hammer strapped to his back.

“Well, by the guess of your garb, I’m assuming that you know something is up. Well here it is: the pirates managed to break through our screen, and have boarded both the Savior and the Silverado. The marines on the Silverado are taking care of themselves quite handily, but for whatever reason, more than a few pirates have us targeted, and more than a few have already landed. They set up shop in the hangar and a few are in the halls now. I can only imagine they are trying to get to the bridge, and as you can imagine, I’d prefer that not to happen.”

When he finished that sentence, the remainder of Blackjack entered the room in full gear, lugging all the heavy weapons they could to the fore. Tanus nodded at Garryll, who stood at attention waiting for orders. Ipiad looked at them and back to Tanus, and then continued.

“Well, I can tell that you’re ready to go. I’ll let you to it then. Just make sure they don’t get up here and keep them from the sensitive gear, mainly the engines and shields. The sector authorities are on their way, but won’t be here for a bit. I don’t want to chance them getting here late to a slaughter, so I want to soften the pirates up. When the Carrack and gunship eventually show, we should be all right. The fighter squadrons are slowing down the enemy, but that won’t last long with pirates already boarding us. Have at it Sergeant.”

Ipiad turned back around, barking orders and asking for firing solutions and status reports. Tanus turned to his men, all with cold solice in their eyes. They know what they have to do. Tanus pulled Garryll and Orobos to the front of the pack.

“Okay, so as you may have noticed, pirates made their way on to the ship. The marines on the other ships have it covered, but since we’re here, it’s up to us to take care of it. Garryll, you take the Tyrant, Goshin and Terra to the hangar. Keep the pirates at bay for as long as you can. Orobos, you take a Stouker, Reese and Tank down to the shields and make sure that they down get to the generators. If you find any pirates in the halls, send them straight to hell. Al, you’re with me. We’re going down to the engines and making sure they don’t blow them out. Take the other Stouker and follow me while I armor up. You have your orders, go to them.”

Blackjack then dispersed and to their respective roles. Alater followed Tanus down to his room and waited while he suited up. As he put on his armor, Tanus grimaced at the thought of fighting on the defensive. It never bloody fails that they always get us with our pants down. Or perhaps armor is more appropriate in this case. It makes no matter though. We have the firepower and manpower. More importantly, we have the resolve. The men will be fine. I’m happy to have some seasoned men out here now. He came out in his Blackjack standard armor, hammer slung across his back, M32 across the small of his back, and pistols at either hip; a bandolier of ammo was strung across his chest and he was cradling his M82 in his arms. Alater only gave him a light smile.

“You ready yet? I need to see something bleeding soon or else my whole day will be shot.”

Tanus nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m ready. And I’d be careful about that statement Al. Could be you bleeding, and I don’t need to see that.”

Alater loosened Longfang from its sheath.

“Let the bastards try.”

Without another word, they ran down the hall towards the engines, hoping to the gods above they got to the engines before the pirates did.