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Imperial-II Star Destroyer 'Gauntlet'
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John Kiles
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Joined: 20 Jul 2009
Posts: 82
Location: Location, Location!

 Post Posted: Sun, August 09th 2009 01:41pm    Post subject: Imperial-II Star Destroyer 'Gauntlet'
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Commanding Officer: Commodore John Kiles
Executive Officer: Commander Erik Jorgan
Escorts: Imperial Battlegroup Gauntlet

Current Location: Bilbringi System
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Commodore John Kiles - Imperial Remnant Battlegroup Gauntlet


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John Kiles
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Joined: 20 Jul 2009
Posts: 82
Location: Location, Location!

 Post Posted: Mon, August 10th 2009 12:16pm    Post subject:
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Sometimes he wanted to rip his memories out with his bare hands and feed them into the garbage compactor.

An officer stood in front of the door of the cell with his sidearm in his hand. The man in the cell was dressed in an orange jumpsuit that was ripped in a few places. His black hair was streaked with gray, and from the look of his beard it was obvious he’d been stuck in the cell for days. He looked up when the door hissed shut and his hazel eyes widened. He started to stand, but the officer pointed the blaster at him and mumbled something that John couldn’t make out. The prisoner hesitated, then slowly sat back on the bunk that lined one wall of the tiny cell. The officer took a few steps inside, keeping the blaster trained on the prisoner.

The officer asked something of the prisoner, to which the man sighed and looked down at the floor, shaking his head. When he looked back at the officer, his eyes were bright with anger. The prisoner shouted something, but the years had blurred John’s memories and he couldn’t make out most of the words.

“…your father never would…evil, and…”

To this the officer yelled a response.

“My father…duty…terrorists! I thought…was wrong.” The officer seemed to realize that his gun arm was shaking, and he lowered the weapon. He took a breath and asked the prisoner another question. This time, all of the fight seemed to go out of the man. He sagged heavily on the bunk and held his head in his hands. A single word escaped his lips, but it was enough to shock the officer into silence. His eyes went wide and his mouth moved as if he couldn’t believe what the prisoner had said. The man nodded wordlessly.

The officer looked down at the blaster still in his hand, then at his uniform, a look of shame crossing his face. He lowered his head for a moment before taking a deep breath and flipping the selector on his blaster pistol. The prisoner leaned his back against the wall behind his bunk and closed his eyes…


…and John woke up.

He didn’t realize that he was conscious until his alarm began beeping at him in a steady-yet-annoying tone. John sighed and reached over to slap the chrono by his bunk, allowing silence to fill his cabin again. The 64-year-old officer groaned slightly as he lifted himself into a seated position on his bunk. As soon as he did, the motion detectors in his ceiling activated the lights, slowly increasing the brightness so as to not hurt his sleep-encrusted eyes. A small closet opened in the wall, and a silver-plated protocol droid stepped out of it. “Good morning, Commodore. Did you sleep well?”
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Commodore John Kiles - Imperial Remnant Battlegroup Gauntlet


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John Kiles
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Joined: 20 Jul 2009
Posts: 82
Location: Location, Location!

 Post Posted: Fri, August 14th 2009 05:41pm    Post subject:
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John adjusted the brim of his cap and began his second inspection of the dress uniform E-9PO had selected for him to wear when he flew over to Admiral Stresemann's flag, the Viscount. Stresemann was relatively new to this sector, having replaced the last flag officer after the latter had been promoted to New Republic High Command. The state of the Empire being what it was these days, a healthy relationship with the New Republic was a very good thing, and John's superiors had encouraged him to make friends with his counterpart in the Republic half of the Bilbringi defense force. Politics were tiresome, but in this case it didn't mind. He'd heard odd things about the Admiral, the usual rumors and talk that circulate whenever a new officer rotated into a command, but he hadn't paid them much heed. John preferred to form his own opinions of others.

Once his inspection was done, John walked over to the refrigeration unit in the corner of his quarters and unsealed it. He withdrew a bottle of Anaxsi fine wine, one he'd recieved as a gift the last time he'd been on his homeworld...so long ago...Quickly he brushed the thought from his mind. The Gauntlet was his home now, and the service was his life. John thanked Ninepeo as he left his quarters, the wine tucked underneath one arm with a fine cloth. His crew saluted as he passed and he returned it, occasionally stopping to ask about family and friends. They were use to it by now; on board the Gauntlet, the crew had affectionately taken to referring to John as the 'Old Man' and 'Grandpa'. One of the few Mandalorian crewmates had even nicknamed him 'Ba'Buir'.

After a few minutes of turbolift travels and walking through corridors, John reached his shuttle, which took off and headed for the massive flagship of the Bilbringi Defense Fleet.
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Neo Sarkk
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Joined: 31 Jul 2009
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Location: Bastion

 Post Posted: Sat, August 15th 2009 07:02pm    Post subject:
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The sound of armored boots echoed down the hallway as a black armored figure made his way past several doors. Some had windows, some had viewing slits that could slide closed, and some were simple durasteel slabs. Once they were closed, no one other than its occupants would know what went on behind them. There were no holocams, no recording devices. Nothing that was said within the walls of these rooms would be repeated in the outside except under the most secure conditions.

Fortunately, an Imperial Star Destroyer was generally considered by many to fit those parameters.

The armored soldier reached his destination and removed an armored gauntlet in order to press his bare hand against a sensor by the door. It clicked and slid open silently, then shut behind him as he replaced the glove. His face was concealed by a black helmet with no distinctive features other than a visor slit that stretched from temple to temple. From behind the visor, the soldier stared at the bland metal table that dominated the small briefing room. The table, and the man in the red uniform who was seated at the other end. His face was bland, with blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. He was someone who would not stand out in a crowd. A typical agent belonging to Imperial Intelligence.

Neo depolarized his visor, revealing his eyes and the bridge of his nose as he saluted. “Captain Strom, sir.”

“Sergeant Sarkk. Please be seated.” Neo removed his helmet as a matter of courtesy towards a superior and did as ordered, although the armor plating made his position slightly uncomfortable. If Strom noticed this, he didn’t care. Instead, he slid a datapad across the table towards Neo, who stopped it with one hand. On the screen was the profile of a young woman, early-twenties, with a shaved head. “This is Vera Nico, a bounty hunter and all-around vigilante. She came to our attention shortly after that rather public trial she underwent, and we have been keeping tabs on her. Recently, Nico has caused a stir on Corellia by assassinating the leaders of several criminal organizations. While we had several agents tailing her, only one survived the initial chaos of her attack and is working to pursue her.”

As Neo tabbed through the file on her, he found himself growing interested. Nico sounded like she knew how to hide…especially since she had apparently eluded several agents from Imperial and New Republic Intelligence, at least temporarily. Without looking up, he said, “You want us to rendezvous with your surviving agent as backup?”

Strom nodded. “Yes. Lieutenant Jacen Tranada. A good agent, knows his trade well. However, some of my superiors are concerned that if Nico eludes him, we could lose her altogether. After all, seven eyes are better than one.”

Neo looked up. “Seven?”

“Ah, yes. We’re sending another agent with you. He’ll be in command until you meet up with Tranada.” Strom hesitated, then produced another datapad. “There is one other thing. You didn’t hear this from me, but we managed to retrieve footage of Nico’s escape. After a Republic agent cought her, she was assisted–” Strom set the datapad in the center of the table and pressed PLAY. “–this.” A hologram sprang into being, showing Nico on the floor of what looked like a small hangar. A woman in civilian clothing was holding the bounty hunter at blasterpoint and putting binders on her when something huge appeared on the far side of the image. The agent threw herself off on Nico, but the latter swept her legs out from underneath her and ran off towards her ship. The massive armored–thing fired a small rocket at the agent and missed, then cut loose with some sort of heavy repeater. A stray shot hit the holocam and the feed cut out.

Strom cleared his throat. “We’ve identified that second suspect, and it’s undoubtedly a Mark III Dark Trooper. They were produced in limited numbers during the Rebellion, but the project was discontinued after Alliance agents destroyed the only factory capable of manufacturing them. It appears that Nico has salvaged one of them from somewhere, and it is obviously armed and extremely dangerous.”

Neo sighed. It was going to be another one of those days.

* * *


Neo slammed the power pack into the blaster rifle and listened as it powered up. Around him, he could hear similar whines and the clicks of armor on metal echo in the locker room as the other four members of his team prepared their equipment for the mission. He strapped a combat knife to his chest plate to allow easy access and slipped a few thermal grenades onto his belt, then grabbed a sidearm and attached the holster to his thigh. To his left, Corporal Lance was inspecting his G36 Pelletmaster, a short slugthrower rifle that he relied on for long-range stopping power. Private Ellis was cleaning the barrel of her blaster rifle, while Dome and Keran were running seal integrity checks on their armor. A few minutes later, they were all ready.

Nik snagged a duffel full of breaching charges and blast coil in the event they would be boarding Nico’s ship and chinned his helmet comm. “Hangar bay, team. Our ride’s waiting.” They clomped out of the locker room, drawing more than a few curious glances from the crew.
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Master Sergeant Neo Sarkk - Storm Commando



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