Nal Hutta

[Ambrose Veshok]

Ambrose sighed in desperation at the site of the Hutt before him offering to lend aid. Even with a slew of the Empire's finest at his beck and call, he was wary, and he suspected that his newfound young charge was none-too-keen with the presence of the overgrown slug either. Whoever he was, he was not mentioned anywhere in his teams' field orders. Beneath his helmet, he glared at the Hutt, glancing at his commanding officer who stepped forward and was a bit more political than he would have been, or so he imagined, "What aid have you come to offer Hutt? We were under the understanding that this operation was to liberate illegally held individuals from involuntary servitutde to your kind." The Sergeant gestured at Emma who was still at Ambrose' side. "Perhaps," he inclined his head towards the mass of Imperial Storm Troopers gathered in the background, :if we could report in to the Misericordia to confirm orders? As you can see, we're a bit out of sorts. We've had our fair share of run ins with your cronies whilst everyone else gallivanted about above." With a wave, the Sergeant gestured Ambrose to go join the fresh-faced reinforcements in order to utilize their higher powered communication equipment.

 

With Emma by his side, Ambrose made his way amongst his fellow, much cleaner, armored troopers, boarding one of the landing craft in order to use the onboard comms. Aboard, he was able to hail the Misericordia and relay a lightly detailed report, including the loss of a significant portion of their team, as well as the injuries sustained by several more. After confirming that the hitt outside was actually on their side; much to his displeasure, Ambrose was ordered to report along with the rest of his team for extraction back to the Misericordia, where they would be debriefed and given proper medical check ups.

 

Turning, Ambrose patted Emma on the head, "Don't worry little sister, you'll come back with us off world and we'll get that nasty bit of metal taken care of for you." There's just something about this girl that reminds me of back home. I'll do what I can to help her.

 

Marching back outside, Ambrose reported his findings to his Commanding Officer. In short order, the entire group had boarded one of the landing craft and they were lifitng off the planet, having relayed the coordinates of their initial forward base, containing their fallen comrades or what was left of them, to their fellow troopers. Additionally, Ambrose had pulled aside the commanding officer of the new company and explained that there was a slave stockyard of sorts that they had dispatched the black skinned Trandoshan to place a homing device on the facility. He hoped that with he firepower now being brought to bear thta they would be able to liberate the slaves; although, in the back of his mind, Ambrose was still a loyal stormtrooper of the old Imperial Order and knew that circumstantially dependent the facility could much more easily be wiped out with much less chance of loss-of-imperial life or equipment. Regardless, he had not wanted to share that bit with Emma; besides, it was out of his hands now.

 

Once settled into the landing craft, strapped into the safety harnesses, the half squad was up and away disappearing high into the sky. Thankfully the piloting skills of the Imperial pilot was top notch, as would be expected with any Imperial militantly trained solider or operative. Soon enough, they had outdistanced the hostile planetside guns and were docking in at the Misericordia.

 

Once aboard, the team was shuffled off to check in their weapons and armor for refurbishment, repair, and review before being shuffled off to the medbay for a good going over. Emma was seperated from the group almost as soon as they were aboard, even with assurances from Ambrose that they would see each other soon, he felt guilty watching her shuffled off in another direction for clearance by onboard security personnel. Soon enough, Amborse, and those who were able to report for debrief were settled around a large table with a rotating holoprojector in the middle giving a detailed report of their actions on Nal Hutta.

[Kyrie Eleison]

Fascism was always efficient, especially during extermination.

 

Kyries saber rotated on her palm, the long-handled blade deflecting the blasts from the E-web back through the smoke that clung to the air and choked the lungs. The orange bolts splashed the plating in front of her armoured legs, a few ricocheting back into the throneroom. She was an adept warrior, but even she couldn’t hold for long against a neverending hailstorm of energy. She let a few more hits land on her blade as she stepped to the side, away from the bottleneck of a door. It was a massive door, large enough for the Hutt to come and go with comfort, much like all the halls they had fought through. An anguished yelp came over her earpiece as she saw IC-873 fall hard to a blastershot, which hit him in the gut, between the armour plating. Her command echoed through each helmet

 

...Grenades out, let’s disable that turret…

 

She was surprised the Hutt was wielding an E-Web by himself, with no backup gunner or technician, it was impossible to not overdraw the power supply between the shield and the repeating fire. How one Hutt was able to operate a heavy weapon and personal shield was beyond her. As the Imperial Commandos unclipped their ion grenades, a shriek of alarm sounded in the Force, followed by a rush of energy from two sources. Her first instinct was to grab the oncoming weapons and ram them back to their source, but she knew she had to conserve her energy.

 

The Imperial Knight let out a staggered breath and bound the song of war into tangible energy. She tipped the Plex Missile’s arc with a simple touch, setting its trajectory down the long hallway behind them, where it would explode without harm to the Imperial Forces. The concussion rifle’s blast was more work to deal with, and moving much too quickly. She shoved it with the Force as it came at them, and it impacted the blast door across from her. The concussive hit was enough to send her staggering, and knocked two of her troopers down. Far better than a direct hit, but she lost her focus on the song.

 

The three grenadiers within the Imperial Commandos from Kildare let loose a barrage from their HH-4 Grenade launchers, sending 3 ion grenades and 3 stun grenades sailing in sharp arcs in a scattered formation into the room’s center. Their blasts would overlap, with the majority of the power directed into the center of the pentagram, where the Hutt sat. Hadran Narraghmore directed the forces of Foy to continue firing into the room after the grenades. She could hear the bark of the BB-23 over the ringing in her ears, its powerful antipersonal blasts inaccurate at such close ranges, even braced as it was.

 

No need for accuracy firing into an enclosed space. It was like shooting a nerf in its pen.

Kyrie herself steadied herself against the blast-door, watching the exchange of firepower as she readied herself to rush into the room. When the blasts came she would lead a charge into the stunned group of pirates and slavers. She would draw their fire onto herself as her men finsihed off any who could still stand. She raised her blade as she prepared to charge.

 

((1))

[Dordjooba the Hutt]

[Dordjooba]

 

Dordjooba grunted to Ambrose before the trooper boarded a ship and evacuated the battlefield. It was a trivial matter to explain his affiliation and protest his part in all of this, but he didn't have time. Already, due to the holo-calls, he put out before the dropships landed, his people were working to freeze Kalimore's assets. It would take time because Dordjooba had been out of the Hutt Cartel's favor for some time, but Dordjooba still had sway. His business acumen and presence in this sector were still intimidating to every slug that thought they could build clout in this sector. And, with the Imperials at his back, supporting his charge, he would extricate the deadweight with little effort.

 

One significant note, however, was the location of his agent Kaldesh. The Lizard was doing recon for the troops and Dordjooba's intel was scarce on that front. Still, he would send a small contingent of troops to map out the area and slowly but surely imperial influence would spread, enforcing the principles that Dordjooba tried to uphold years ago before he left.

 

Hopefully, I'll do it right this time.

 

____________________

 

[Kaldesh]

 

Big building, lots of danger.

 

The black Trandoshan darted from shadow to shadow with nothing but glinting red eyes shining from the tarry black of Nal Hutta's dark corners. His eyes, the red of a laigrek's evil gaze, might be enough to draw attention from the turbolaser gunners. He didn't know. He didn't have time to hesitate. He shot out toward the facility with the speed of an Ewok with caf on the brain. He glided carefully near the perimeter wall of the facility and affixed the tracking device with a little less care than he hoped. He fumbled the device in his claws and then stumbled a little before resuming his charge away from the facility. His clumsy claws cost him a few seconds, but he honestly didn't know if those few seconds were enough to expose him.

 

Sometimes fate plays with hidden sabaac cards up its sleeves.

[Kyrie Eleison]

(3-Day Capture, as requested by opponent)

The leader of the Imperial Knights stepped into the control room of the Hutt’s Carrack Cruiser, her emerald eyes stinging from the acrid smoke. The smell of ozone was overpowering, but through the Force she could feel the steady rhythmic heartbeats of the stunned and unconscious before her. As the smoke cleared and the Imperial troopers rushed the room, there was no sound of resistance, but the small moans of pain and the blubbery snores of a stunned Hutt.

 

Kyrie nudged a slave-girl with her armoured boot, turning the young woman’s head to reveal a caveated skull from a blaster round. Whimpering breathes seized the girls lungs as her body began to fail, the pressure mounting in her skull paralyzing her diaphragm and driving her blood pressure to fatal levels. As seizures turned the girl who had been stolen for her beauty into a shuddering, dying mess, The Imperial Knight turned to the unconscious Hutt, surrounded by his dying slaves who had given themselves to death to protect him

 

Such a waste of life. Not even able to resist the machinations of their masters.

 

Her fist clenched and the Hutt slammed into the bulkhead, heaved by the Force. He made a painful bellow as his bulk smashed into the unforgiving steel and he awoke as she flung him back across the room, to carreen into his golden throne. The dias exploded into splinters of ebony hardwoods and slimy carpeting, the Hutt’s face guided to its shatterpoint by the Imperial Knight.

 

His squawking protests were halted as she levitated him to the ceiling, his bulk hanging like a lumpy sack of fat and unused muscle, bits of E-Web mangling from his greasy flesh. She longed to wring every drop of fat from him as if he were a damp rag, to explode him into shreds of pulled meat. His waste of a life brought forth the bitterness of her own history, vomiting it into her mind in a cavalcade of furious bile. She could taste it, she could feel it, her own abuse in the bonds of slavery to the Hutts. Her voice held a barely contained rage as she spit out the words, devoid of her usual dry humour. Her emerald eyes were now only silver flame, a reflection of her lightsaber’s blade

“You are un-n-nder ar-r-rest…”

 

Her stutter was back, as was her poor grasp of basic

 

“S-Surrend-der your…”

CONTROL YOURSELF.

 

Kyrie took a shallow and ragged breath, the Hutt slipping from her grasp to fall screaming to the decking. She flicked her hand and dragged the wailing beast after her as the Imperial Commandos made course to the Misericordia. No longer was the Hutt a stoic bastion of crime, now he was a soiled, milquetoast coward, like the rest of his species. He would face Imperial Justice, but not by her blade. Not now.

[Dordjooba the Hutt]

Over the next few days, the Imperials swarmed in to clean up Kalimore’s mess. Slave pens were liberated, pit fighting rings were broken, illegal spice companies were destroyed and every rule-breaker was punished to every extent of the law. Dordjooba’s men were spared due to his Moff status. But, had his men been engaging in any questionable activities, they would likely have been confronted as well.

 

Kaldesh stood, the pressure of leadership weighing heavily on his scaley mantle, and sent transmissions out to Kaldena and Vlahjik. He would need their help in the coming weeks. Then, with subtle flourishes, he set about Nal Hutta, rekindling legitimate businesses that were shut down due to the Imperial assault, liberating old slave holdouts from the underground slave liberation teams, and reconnecting with the operating facilities that hadn’t been used since Dordjooba left the known galaxy.