Nirro stands up. Commander, we have all been talking about different aspects of this mission but one that I haven't heard is electronic intel. I have made something of a hobby out of the art of... lets call it "peeking", at things on computer systems that I am not supposed to. So if the Intel Team needs someone to slice into the pirates computer systems I am your man.. He sits and awaits a response.

Allen pulls himself out of daydreams about the X-45.  "And even though I haven't been here long, you'll find I have a special talent at being able to hit what I aim at, though if you need me for something else, I am good at a lot of other things."

"Personally Mister Nallis I hope none of you need to use it outside a range.  For if you do it means we have likely failed to acheive things quietly or we have been forced to resort to assassination.  Both prospects, whilst sometimes necessary, leave a nasty taste in my mouth.





The Commander turns his gaze to Nirro.  "Well since you are my squadron slicer I am expecting you to handle this area.  I don't need you telling me you are capable of slicing, its why I recruited you to this team.  I need you to tell me what you need to best obtain us what we need.  Of course I'll need you to slice into pirate systems.  You will be one of our primary intelligence gatherers.  I imagine you will also work closely with Mister Kismet whenever he applies his 'craft'."





Mark's face seems to harden a little.  "Pilot Officer, I don't need a vagu accounts of your abilities, nor do I need a sniper.  I have two of those as well as a specialist in blaster weaponry.  I brought you into this squadron in the hopes you would find a niche, a useful purpose only you can serve.  The others have theirs, you need to find yours.  You're an officer so learn to make decisions.  You want others to make all the decisions for you?  Renounce your commission and go be a grunt.  They follow orders, officers give them."

Jamie finished sending the commander a request for supplies, and looks at Nirro.  "A slicer could come in handy in my line of work as well.  Blueprints can make demolishing a building much easier.  I hope that's not necessary, as explosives are very expensive."

Koruusk continued to listen to everyone. He was a bit displeased with his own basic. Apparently his intention had not been communicated properly. He had meant that their weapons and armor look like they had been around the block a few times, not that they look out of repair or unmaintained. He thought about bringing up the point again to try and communicate the sentiment properly but decided better of it. He might mention it when they were closer to the field. Which led him to the thought, when would they be getting to the field.

"When will we be deployed? And is our shuttle marked? If it is I think we should paint over all of the markings on it. Maybe even paint a logo to identify the merc group we will be posing as?" Koruusk's hissed basic came out evenly.

They obviously didn't want to wait too long before getting into the field. However, Koruusk hoped he'd have a chance to maybe take a short simulator run with his squadmates so he could familiarize himself with how they flew. The more he could anticipate his squadmates the more effective he could be flying with them. Not to mention he'd like the chance to get to know some of them before he had to rely on them to watch his back. He was sure everyone would watch out for each other when the pudu hit the fan but it was still nice to know who was covering you.

"Thats when will be deployed sir, Pilot Officer Koruusk.  I am aware your former assignments 'distanced' you somewhat from the chain of command.  Time to re-familiarise yourself with it"

Cyril nonchalantly walked over to the terminal in the briefing room. With only a momentary "If I may, Commander," Flight Officer Cyril Hyquin fell completely into the role of a communications officer, showing precision and diligence in the simple matter of tapping away at the keyboard. This was one of easiest roles for him to portray, as half of his actual line of work consisted of roughly the same thing - typing up post-mission reports and conveying intelligence over secure lines of communications.

In a few short moments, 'Comm Officer' Hyquin had appropriated a portion of the screen for a list of assignments, with a format not unlike a lot of forms thrown around the Alliance. The list read:

Intel Team:
Captain Jax (Lead)
FO Hyquin
FO Nallis
PO Koruusk

Ops Team:
Commander Sheppard (Lead)
PO Flash
FO Webb
FO Lars
FO Grimm
FO Savin
FO Kismet
FO Bedix

As he finished typing, Cyril stated, "If Flight Officer Nallis will indeed be posing as a bodyguard for the Intel Team, I believe the sniper rifle in question should be assigned to Officer Bedix instead, since it will be quite difficult to explain why a bodyguard is equipped with a sniper rifle, instead of a standard blaster rifle or pistol."

"Aslo, inasmuch as Officer Savin's computer skills would be invaluable to the Intel Team, I think there will be a lot more information to be obtained in the actual sites that will be selected as priority targets. As such, his slicing skills would be best utilized in the Ops Team."

The captain watches Cyril's actions with amusement.

"Very interesting Cyril but you seem to have overlooked what I said before.  The Commander, whilst a fine leader is not skilled at deception and we need someone to pose as the 'head' of this orginisation.  I fear the Commander lacks the subtlelty for the job.  That combined with our travelling on one shuttle together makes me believe we should travel as one mercenary team."

"There will be time to split up once we are planetside.  Unless people have holographic memories or take extraordinary lengths to observe us our faces will be quickly forgotten.  I have no doubt hundreds of mercs, pirates and hopefuls travel through this place."

Cyril turns to the Captain just in time to see the amusement in her face.

"Then, my dear Captain," he says playfully. "It should be you."

"Perhaps, but perhaps not.  Whilst not exactly rare, a female Zabrak is more likely to be remembered than a human male.  If I was to pose as this groups leader then I will be limited in what other intelligence gathering I can perform.  My cover will be blown as they say in the holovids.  Still I suppose I can impart my intelligence-gathering objectives to our new communications officer."

Seeing the group had the mission plan, or what there was of it to be shared, the Commander stood.

"Atten. . .shun."

Once everyone came to order he looked around the room, making sure his troops were ramrod straight and not fidgeting.

"We depart at 2100 hours.  Make sure you are packed and have your extra gear from the quartermaster.  Make sure you get some chow before we go as there's no in-flight meal.  Carry on with the briefing captain and Mister Webb, my office as soon as the briefing is finished."

Receiving a salute from his XO and reciprocating, he walked out of the room.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:25, Mon 27 Mar 2006.

Cyril feigned pleasant surprise when the Captain practically gave him the assignment. He waited until the Commander had left the room before resuming conversation with the Captain.

"As you wish, Captain. I am eager to learn what you have to teach," he said, smiling. "What else must we discuss so the briefing can adjourn?"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:38, Mon 27 Mar 2006.

Zyra relaxes as the commander leaves.  Seeing the others at attention she waves them back down.

"Don't get too worried about the Commander's hardline military approach.  He'll lighten up over time.  Its his way of making sure you stay disciplined.  Too many special forces get lax and think they deserve special treatment."

"But anyway, lets get back to the mission.  In preparing your identity cards, you will all be given the same first name but a false surname.  So the Commander will be Mark somebody, I will be Zyra someone, etc.  Since we are going in so quickly there isn't time to learn to react to falsified names.  A single slip could cost us our lives so we're keeping it simple."

"Now when you arrive at the shuttle tonight I don't want anyone to be yourself.  Think of a character from a holofilm you like and make yourself over in their image.  Talk like them, act like them.  Customise your gear as necessary.  Dye your flight suit black, shave your head, get fake tattoos applied.  We're going to be mercanaries so make yourselves out to be them.  Most creative concept gets a two-leave pass to the sunny beaches of Argon V on our return."

"Are there any further questions?  If not you are all dismissed until tonight.  Lets wrap this up so young Jamie can find out why he's in trouble!  This mission is strictly confidential so do not speak of it even to each other.  If anyone asks you anything, direct them to the Commander or myself.  I don't care if its Captain Tylon himself.  He may command the Indifatigable but he isn't privvy to our mission."

OOC: I am going to leave this thread open for another day or so to give people time to submit.  When you are ready Jamie you should report to the Commander's office (in PM to him)

Jamie scratched his head after the commander left the room, wondering why he was in trouble.  The last time he got sent to a commander's office it was for making jokes in class...which he hadn't been doing this time...
He tore himself away from his mental wandering to listen to the rest of the briefing.  Same first names was good...who would he become for the mission?
No, not him...ha!  Perfect!  That'll be a good one.  Need to get a good supply of toothpicks from the mess hall...

Nirro came to attention when the commander so ordered. Once he left the room Nirro listened to the captain's final instructions and headed to the mess. He got some chow. After mess he headed to the QM to get the supplies he requested, after which with nothing left to do he returned to his room packed and then took a nap until it was time to leave.

Ashlyn came to attention with the others.  He certainly wasn't thrilled with how the briefing went, but it was a mission.  It would get them out and away from sims.

Once free from the briefing, he followed Nirro to check on requested gear.  Ate his fill and then went to customize his personal identity for the drop.

Allen relaxes as the commander leaves, then decides that he had better report to the quartermaster.  As he leaves the room, he tries to think of anyone he might want to act like from the few holovids he's seen.  "Him?  No way.  What about him?  Naaa...  I guess I'll just have to be creative..."

After hanging around and watching a few holovids with the others, Allen walks off to the wardrobe, pulls out some old, worn coveralls(if there aren't any, he makes some), and then heads off to get a few more things.  After finally convincing one of the mechanics that he needs grease, he heads back to his quarters, practicing his speech and smearing some grease on his face, hands, and outfit as he goes.

'Flash' looks up from his work for a moment to stretch his neck and glances at the time.  After a second look and a few blinks to remove all doubt, he suddenly starts swearing under his breath in about three different languages at the disassembled blaster before him before starting to put it back together.  "Well at least I had enough time to fix the problem."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:26, Tue 28 Mar 2006.

Cyril walked out of the briefing room grinning ear to ear. To everyone else, he would be considered the most eager of eager cadets, but inside, he was troubled.

He began to doubt if the Captain did, to some degree, know about his true profession. Yet, from the way she talked and acted, Cyril would be hard-pressed to believe she knew. "Nevermind," he convinced himself. "What happens, happens."

With that, Cyril went straight to the mess hall first, carefully avoiding conversation with anyone else. Afterwards, he was off to the quartermaster, where he properly signed out the few pieces of equipment he had requested, along with the items they had been assigned. Hoping to avoid notice, he crept to the holovid room and screened a couple of action movies from which to mimic his new role's movements and demeanor on. He then proceeded to the wardrobe, to pick out extra pieces for the disguise he intended to use. He wore the padded flight suit, then searched for a matching leather utility jacket in the dresser - something that he thought a tough but successful hooligan might wear, and just the right clothing for the role of a mercenary leader. To complete the disguise, he dyed his hair brown and wore green lenses for his eyes. The last piece he wore was the blaster holster with his pistol, and the sheath with his vibroblade. He figured that they were better off seen as part of the act; the rest of his equipment he would keep inside his utility jacket.

From then until 2100, Cyril practiced the attitude and speech he had seen on the movies, as well as mixing them with what street-talk he already knew. He was painfully aware that, as the 'face' of the merc group they were posing as, he needed to be as convincing as possible. Hopefully, the others would attribute his talent as just that, rather than make guesses as to his true nature.

Christian snapped to attention, and saluted the commander as he left.  He looked at the team, wondering if they could pull it off.

Christian walked to the mess hall, thinking to himself, and of his training his had.  His extensive weapons training helped him a bit here, giving him a useful skill.

Christian enters the mess hall, grabs something to eat and sits.

To his dismay, everyone seemed to scatter once the briefing was dismissed before Koruusk had a chance to talk to anyone. He only knew of the others what he had so far observed and what was printed on the roster that had been issued. Needless to say it wasn't very much.

Without the opportunity to get to know his comrades, Koruusk decided he'd best just focus on what needed to be done before 2100. He swung by his quarters to check on his personal equipment. It was well in order and already packed as he hadn't even had time to unpack it yet. From there he made his way to the quartermaster. He didn't hold high hopes that his request form would be filled but he was happy to work with whatever they issued the team for the mission.

Once he had signed out his new equipment from the quartermaster he promptly returned to his quarters to efficiently stow everything for the mission. That taken care of he had to take care of the matter of his cover identity. He had two strikes going against him there. First, Trandoshans only had one name so keeping his name but adding a surname seemed confusing to him. Second, he never watched holovids so he had only his own experience to draw upon for creating this alternate image he was to portray. Fortunately he had an idea about that. A way for him to continue using his wookie weapons while still coming off as a completely different person than he was.

Koruusk had only seen a wookie use their claws once but the image was burned into his mind. He remembered exactly how they had scarred the face of one of his superiors from when he was on the slave ship. In order to portray an alternate image for the mission he would become that which he hated most. Koruusk took a moment to brace himself then raked his own claws across his face while watching in the mirror. He had to do it very slowly so he could try to match the image in his mind. When he was satisfied he had recreated the scars he had seen in his youth, albeit at a different angle than his former Captain's scars, he applied a towel to stop the bleeding. It wasn't nearly as bad as it looked and he knew the scars could be removed but it still made him sick to think of what he was making himself look like. Almost as sick as the next part of the transformation made him.

Once the small trickle from the wound stopped he proceeded to the wardrobe they were offered access to to craft their disguises. He only needed one thing from it to complete his and it made him sick to his stomach just thinking about it. After some searching through the assortment of furs the wardrobe offered he decided on the item he needed. It was a fairly large poncho made with a thick gray and brown splotched fur that looked identical to wookie fur. So close was the resemblance to wookie fur that even he couldn't truly tell if it were real or not. As he slipped it on over the flight suit he'd been issued he prayed that it was taken from some animal.

He returned to his quarters, taking as much care as he could to not be seen. Once safely inside he drew out his bowcaster and took a long look in the mirror. He had quite convincingly took on the image of a truly grizzled and experienced Trandoshan slaver. One so entrenched in the craft that he had taken to using wookies own weapons against them and provoking them to such an extent that they lose their sanity enough to actually use their claws, which is a sin of the highest order among wookies. He felt completely sick looking at himself, appearing to represent everything he hated most. He forced himself to look for a long time, though. He would get used to the image now so it would not bother him once they were planetside and on mission.

Once he felt sure that he would show no signs of revulsion towards himself he checked that all of his gear was properly stowed again. He sat down and helped himself to an MRE. Then he laid down to take a brief nap until he had to leave to report to the hangar for the mission. He would have to try to get to know his comrades enroute.

After the briefing, Devon wandered back towards his quarters in a puzzled frame of mind.  Compared to some of the others, his experience in matters military was somewhat lacking - quite frankly, he'd been somewhat suprised when the commander had offered him a shot at a place on the squadron... so perhaps he shouldnt worry too much that he hadnt been able to really contribute anything useful to the briefing, he'd learn.

Given that the Captain had told them not to talk to anyone about the mission, Devon figured he'd best get some food before assembling his disguise, and accordingly headed for the galley.  As he ate, he tapped at his datapad, putting together his equipment request.


Later on, belly full, Devon lay on his bunk, stared at the ceiling and frowned.
A disguise of some sort.  He racked his brains for some idea, wondering what to do.  After a while, he stood up and regarded himself in the mirror over the sink, frowning intensly.  Finally he had an idea and hurried down to the wardrobe to get what he needed..

Twenty minutes or so later, a tech on duty in the hanger was startled to see Devon driving one of the small cargo-lifters repeatedly over what appeared to be a standard civilian flight suit.  In response to the Technicians demands to know what was happening, Devon meerly replied airily 'Commanders orders' and reversed the cargo-lifter over the flight suit again.

Some time later, Devon was back in his cabin; examining the now somewhat battered flight suit with the ground in dirt carefully.  Gripping at the edge of a pocket, Devon yanked until it tore; then stitched it back together with different colour thread; not too neatly, he hoped.  It was meant to look like repairs done by a man who was more concerned with the repair working than it being neat and tidy.  One knee and an elbow of the flightsuit received similar treatment before he was satisfied.

Crossing to the sink, Devon once again examined himself carefully himself in the mirror.  Taking up the basic cosmetics he'd scrounged, he dyed his sandy-blonde hair and eyebrows a deep brown, almost black.  Once the dye had done its job, Devon regarded himself in the mirror for a moment, sighed, and used a set of clippers to shave his head, leaving a quarter inch of black stubble where he used to have significantly longer, spikey blonde hair.

Devon dressed slowly, glancing at his now unfamiliar face in the mirror frequently as he did so.  Battered combat boots and an old and oft repaired flight suit tied off round the waist, a stained sleeveless top, tough leather gloves with no fingers - the sort a pilot or merc might wear to protect their hands, and finally a plain black woolen hat pulled down almost to his eyebrows.

Devon regarded himself critcally in the mirror and his normal easy grin showed, he was pleased with the overall image.  Then he remembered himself and scowled at the mirror instead.

Xil stood and saluted the Commander when he left.  Following him out, Xil made a bee line for the Quarter Master to check out the new rifle.  Afterwards, he goes to the dining facility and grabs some chow.  He takes his new gear and heads over to his cabin and does some pre combat checks and services on his weapons and new gear.

Jamie stood as the briefing finished, and promptly left the room to report to the commander in his office.

After reporting to the commander, he was seen at the quartermaster's office collecting explosives with an ear-to-ear grin.  He then ate a good meal at the mess hall and collected a large quantity of toothpicks from the staff.
Later, looking himself in a mirror, he examines the new temporary dragon-tattoo on his forehead and his violently purple hair while chewing a toothpick.
He shoots himself a cocky smile and tries a few corny pickup-lines.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:12, Fri 31 Mar 2006.

This thread is now closed.  Those who posted descriptions thank you for the entertainment (you have been rewarded with roleplaying XP).

Those who neglected to submit requiisitions have only what you were allocated and your own gear.  Don't ask and you don't get.