Den slides to a halt in front of the figure. Doubling over for a moment as he catches his breath, he looks up at what can only assume is Sergeant Arkmeda. "Alright, alright. Stay here, I'll deal with this" he would pant as he looks behind the sergeant. "Here, lend me your pistol, quickly" he snaps as he moves past Arkmeda to try and catch the attacker before he can get away.

Den Perception Check : 2eA+3eD+1eS 3 failures, 1 threat

Dag nabit

The obviously wounded driver hesitates only a second before handing his pistol to him. When the trooper breaks away and continues running toward the stateroom, the infiltrator proceeds in the opposite direction, now looking for an alternate route. Just as he spies an appropriate lift, the klaxons start blaring, and he is forced to forge ahead to the stairs.

"We've got a runner. In pursuit!" Castar yells into his comm.

Ignoring the fire in his shoulder and cursing under his breath, Castar rushes out of the room in the direction the assassin ran.

Sprinting down the hall, he spots Den heading towards him " You there, Duros! Which way did the intruder go?"

Meanwhile, V is walking with the rest of the taskforce, looking around to make sure all the exits were sealed.

Make sure that no one gets out of there without me knowing.

She says into her comms.

Skidding to a halt once more, Den internally curses these stupid boots. People may give stormtrooper armour a hard time, but at least it actually came with a bit of tread. "Woah woah! Hold it right there!" the duros shouts as he raises the pistol, aiming at Castar's chest. "On the ground, slowly, slowly!" As Den approaches, he looks at the man, and is shocked to see the same person he just passed. "Who are you? Some kind of skin changer? You can drop the act now, it's over!"

Seeing the blaster leveled, Castar slows down and raises his hands, the wounded one not going much higher than his shoulder and still dripping blood.

"Look... " he squints at the rank insignia on Den's chest. "Sergeant Whatever-your-name-is. I'm Sergeant Arkmeda, the one who called in the alert. I know he looks exactly like me, I can't explain that. But I just called in that I was in pursuit. Unless you think I'm the world's least effective assassin, who shoots like a drunk mynock and lets my target strangle me and stab me before letting him run away."

He shifts his weight, preparing to continue the chase. "You know what? I don't have time for this. Come with me and apprehend us both. I don't care. I just want to catch the karker and see what this is all about.."

"I said stay there!" Den shouts as he takes a step back. "You can't be Arkmeda, because I just saw Arkmeda heading the other way...". Den sighs as he glances behind him and back at the sergeant. "Aw come on, that can't be it" he would mutter to himself. "No, this is just another trick, well I'm not falling for it alright! If I have to stun you, I will".

As he stands there, Den reaches for his commlink to contact the other. "This is TK-2271, I have the attacker detained. Sergeant Arkmeda is heading in your direction, stop them from leaving". Glancing back at the man in front of him he would continue, "this may take some sorting out".

The echo of pounding feet reverberates in the stairwell as the assassin enters. Instead of heading up, he goes straight to the maintenance closet located beneath the stairs. A key flicks out, seemingly from his finger, and he quickly enters and closes the door behind.

Well and truly bungled that, now, didn't I... The assassin's appearance begins shifting, even as he removes the bloodied and disheveled driver uniform and slips into a grey technician's jumpsuit. The sedative I was given to coat the blade should have worked immediately... why did he keep fighting?

He hears several people reach the bottom of the stairwell, and exit into the corridor he had come from. As he applies a stimpack, he hears the tramp of others following behind. Security, most likely. The assassin pulls out a datapad and waits until the sound of boots recedes down the hall... and ... Now!

A thoroughly unremarkable woman exits the maintenance room, and climbs the stairs, seemingly oblivious to the growing chaos she is leaving in her wake. Should I even report back? It was a target of opportunity, but still... I couldn't pull the trigger.

Lose Them!! w/dark pip flip : 3eP+1eB+2eD+1eC+1eS 1 success, 2 threat, 1 Triumph

(Uses Triumph to "have pursuers lose him completely." I Upgraded the check with a Challenge and a Setback, to reflect @btmaja and @Von3679 's leadership efforts in getting security involved. I also flipped a dark side Destiny point to Upgrade the third die to a Proficiency).

Briar arrives at the bottom of the stairs to find Den had been there for quite some time Wow he moves fast. As she approaches she notices that Sergeant Arkmeda is already there. "Sergeant Luks, I thought you said that you had the intruder, and that Sergeant Arkmeda was heading our way, what is going on?" Briar asks, confused by the situation, and slightly irritated by that.

Seeing the hallway fill with soldiers from the other direction... Castar realizes his part in the pursuit is over.

"Look," he says, reaching for his comm and speaks into it. "This is still Sergeant Arkmeda, my pursuit has stopped due to Sergeant Big Head, here" , hearing Den's com parrot his words briefly after he says them.

"See?" He scans Den's face, but from what he can tell, the Duros is still unwilling to believe him.

Convincing Den : 2eA+2eD+1eS 2 failures, 3 advantage

Seeing this line of conversation is going nowhere, he looks over Den's shoulder. "Agent Briar, if you don't mind informing my green *friend* what 'pursuit' means, and that we generally prefer to catch those we're pursuing instead of helping them escape... I'd be much obliged. Also," he gestured to the rest of the security team "If any one of you is a medic, I won't complain"

Brecor is a model of composure as he runs up to the scene of the scuffle. He turns to the security guards. "The exits should still be sealed. Judging by recent events, it would perhaps be too much to hope for this to provide much of an obstacle for our intruder, but I nonetheless want every inch of this base searched and scanned, every molecule accounted for." Turning to Castar, he glances at his wound. "Nothing too serious, by the looks of it, but you're right to request medical attention." He takes a closer look at the security team to see if he can find a medic among them, but continues to address Castar as he does so: "Aside from the...unusual... appearance of this infiltrator, was there anything that might distinguish him or otherwise help identify him?"

"You know, you're talking a lot for someone on the wrong end of a blaster" Den would snap forwards a little. Even as he held this man at gunpoint, he begun to doubt that he had made the right call. He was stubborn though, and did not want to risk letting him go, until the others arrived. As Castar speaks into the com, Den sighs heavily letting his arm drop to his side. He hangs his head a little, avoiding eye contact with the others as they talk.

With a sudden shout of frustration he hurls the pistol he had taken from the attacker against the corridor wall. He smashes into the metal with a loud bang as he storms away, carrying on the direction he had been going. As he passes Castar he would pause and go to grab him by the collar, dragging him close to the Duros's face. "I may have screwed up there, but you better watch what you say to me, mate, or I'll make you cry". Shoving him back the soldier stomps away. This was as much him lashing out in frustration at his own faliure as it was in response to Castar's words. He was in a foul mood.

"That is quite enough, Sergeant." Yularen himself has arrived on the scene, with two Deathtroopers flanking him. "You will all collect your gear and report to the ST-144 Stormcrow for immediate departure."

Making certain to make eye contact with both sergeants, he continues: "The two of you will be piloting the shuttle in shifts, to rendezvous with the Intrepid . I trust the two of you will work it out. Sooner, rather than later, as Luks here happens to also be the medic for the task force."

"Lieutenant Sturit, Agent Ostell, you will likewise share conning duties."

"Agent V ..." The colonel hesitates. "You exist somewhat outside the normal chain of command.. I trust you know your duty."

"There is sure to be an Inquiry in absentia, but I will deal with it. I simply cannot allow this task force to become mired down in bureaucracy, before it gets off the ground. Dismissed."

As the flush of adrenaline subsides, the combat driver is surprised to find that his wounds are indeed mostly superficial. The scavenger in him can't resist picking up the violently discarded DL-19C, identical in appearance to his own. Obviously damaged from the throw.. will need to be sighted-in again.. what's this..? Inspecting the custom grip, he notices the back strap is somewhat displaced, askew in a way that it shouldn't be able to move? Whatever it is, it is jammed tight for now, and will require some fiddling. It will have to wait.

Shortly, Task Force 75 arrives at the tiered docking bays nearby, and finds the Delta-class T-3c shuttle that has been assigned to them. There is still the bustle of an active search going on around them, but the perimeter has been extended and the klaxons silenced.

Den sees that his squadmates have been hurriedly mustered outside the shuttle, along with another full squad of troopers. "This was you, wasn't it, Luks?" Dyson's voice is playful, so he probably has no idea. "Pilot's here, Banshees, let's fly." The other squad files in, as well. When all of the task force members have boarded, it is time to lift off.

V smiled slyly.

Why yes I do Admiral... I’ll... use it if I need to.

She smirked.

Gathering at the ship, V casually checks her equipment once again, making sure she had everything before entering.

Well... is this where we will spend the next few weeks...?

Brecor runs his hand along the ship, examining it closely. "It would appear so. It does not appear to be much, but is still more than I had hoped for, given the supply shortages."

Den sights as he pulls his helmet over his head. The internals had been refitted for his xenology. It wasn't particularly comfy, but no helmet was really. Many people liked to complain about stormtrooper armour, but it kept them alive, and Den liked the authority that it carried.

Giving his pack once more check, he throws it over his shoulder and stomps down the corridor to the landing platform. He slouches a little as he makes his way, but straightens up before the door, affecting appropriate posture of a sergeant.

He smiles under his helmet as he sees his squad, and pats Dyson on the shoulder. "Something like that" he'd state as he comes to a halt. "Alright, everyone get aboard, if I'm flying, I don't want to have to hang around all day".

Briar began moving up the boarding ramp, distracted by the infiltrator and the upcoming mission. "I'm going to start studying the profiles of the Intrepid's crew. Let me know if anyone needs me." Briar said to no one in particular, as she finished boarding the ramp.

Seeing that the Duros seemed to be taking first shift piloting, Castar straps in for takeoff. After the jump to hyperspace, Castar gathers his toolkit and the broken pistol and heads back to the engine room. There should be a workspace. Let's see if I can get this thing up to spec .

In the engine room, he finds a small bench set up, and he pulls out his toolkit and started the repairs. Disassembling the pistol turns out to be an easy task, and a few minor repairs corrects the skewed sights.

He sets aside the grip Looks like mine, but definitely isn't quite right. I'll hang onto it, but not going to worry about it now. Now, what else is wrong with this handle?

Applying a screwdriver to the the edges of the seams seems to have no effect, but on careful inspection, he finds two pressure triggers that had to be very intentionally pressed, and with them releasing the mechanism, the screwdriver is able to slip in and clear the jam. A small dataspike tumbles from the handle, and upon further trial Castar finds he can operate the hidden compartment without issue. A dataspike huh? This is out of my league, better get this to intelligence .

His thoughts are interrupted by blood drips falling on the laid out pieces. He glances down and notices the medpatch hastily applied to his shoulder has soaked through. I guess I should get that looked at ...

He quickly wipes off the components, reassembles the pistol, and stows it in his bag.

On his way to the cockpit, he notices Agent Briar immersed in records. He drops the dataspike next to her datapad. "Found this in the assassin's weapon. I'll leave it in your capable hands." Brushing off any response, he continues " Literally just told you all I know about it." and without breaking his stride, he continues to make his way to the cockpit, his free hand clamped to his bleeding shoulder.

Ducking through the cockpit, he finds the Duros at the pilot's station. "Ahem, sergeant. I understand you're the sawbones of the group. If you've got a few minutes?" he gestures to his bleeding shoulder and gives a crooked half smile " if nothing else, here's your chance to make me cry..."

Looking up from his seat, Den would let out a sigh. "You non-com's really do bleed easy don't you" he would say as he stands up from the pilots chair. To be fair, everyone bleeds the same, but Den never liked to admit to weakness where he could avoid it. "Alright, sit down, let's take a look" he would grunt as he glances around the room. He went to the side of the wall where the ships medkit was bolted, and popped it open a soft click.

Den takes a fresh bandage from the box, and begins to redress the wound. He is efficient, but a little insensitive and ends up causing a few twinges of pain here and there as he rushes through the work. "Not sure that I can do much else without some proper surgery, or, you know, training outher than fieldwork. You may have to wait till we get to the end of the journey to have an actual doctor look at it. Here, I'll redo the bandage, try and relive a bit of pressure, but that's the best I can do for you now".

The Task Force makes its way along the Perlemian Trade Route without event, coming out of hyperspace at Lantillies as scheduled to pick up a contingent of Wookiee laborers bound for The Wheel. The sullen creatures file onboard in binders and collars, followed by their handler, which some might recognize as a Melitto. Chitinous plates cover the alien's face, but evidently there is a vocoder enabled, as it initiates a conversation with the Zeltron.

"Service to the Empire takes many strange directions." Indicating the long rifle that the Imperial Agent has kept close to her, their insectoid guest continues, his own pheromones adding a spicy scent to mix with the musky pungence emanating from the slaves. "You are great traveler, mighty huntress, yes? I am hunter and guide, Scarpa Flek."

With ten Wookiees aboard, the shuttle is filled nearly to capacity for the journey to The Wheel, or BDT-0978 as it is officially designated. It is lucky, perhaps, that half the Banshees are still in advanced training. Banshee Squad began with the standard ten troopers, but as they make sergeant, some may be shifted around to other units. Presently on the Stormcrow are: "Dyson" (Squad Leader); "Griff" (Engineering Sergeant); "Slowdive" (Intelligence Sergeant); and "Backbeat" (Communications Sergeant); also Den Luks (Weapons Sergeant) and Sergeant Castar Arkmeda (Combat Driver), though they are on loan to the task force, as needed.

The other Stormtrooper squad is destined for garrison duty on some far flung world, and will be disembarking at The Wheel, to await another shuttle.

The Wookiees keep to themselves, as best they can, but some low communications are made now and then. It does not take a linguistics expert to gather that food and water are the topics of general concern. Indeed while tall, they are quite lean- hardly the fearsome beasts they are frequently depicted to be.

During his break, Den would go to sit with the squad, keeping his helmet on at all times. He trusted the men, liked most of them even, but he suspected that his xenology may cause at least some tension. Something he wanted to avoid on such a cramped ship. Looking over every so often he would watch the wookies with genuine interest. How does something so powerful get enslaved so easily? He'd never seen a wookie that wasn't shackled, but then there was still a lot he hadn't seen full stop. "Did you catch all of them yourself?" he would ask the alien, gesturing to the wookies as he does.

"No. I hunt Wyyyschokk, great webweavers of Kashyyyk. Guide clients there, and other worlds, with wild places still." (Motioning toward the Wookiees) "These, I guide to new worksite, in service to Empire. My partner finds clients, operates from Wheel."

"Hm," Den would grunt in response. He had always been a little on edge about the empire's policy on slavery. He knew how quickly it could spread from the likes of the wookies to other species. Still, as a stormtrooper he had to put such thoughts aside. He had a greater duty to uphold. He would twist in his seat a little to get a better look at the closest wookie. "Tell you what, it must take a lot to take down one of these guys. Looks like they could tear arms off without a second thought".

"Those who hunt Wookiees do not grapple with them." The delivery through the vocoder is deadpan, so the Duros is not sure if the guide is tooling with him or not. "Hive... clan family, serve in other ways, on Kashyyyk still. These Wookiees will do as they are tasked."

With that the handler rises, and retrieves a pack filled with protein cubes and ration bars, dispensing them to the slaves. "They will need strength. I am compensated for delivering them in good health. Better than I receive them." He also passes around several canteens, which he refills as needed. The Wookiees are indeed ravenous, but not particularly savage in their eating habits.

The task force had already been traveling for nearly a week, and the cramped trip to The Wheel with the Wookiees takes only a few days. The Stormcrow comes out of hyperspace, and the streaks of starlight transition back to the distant pinpoints of light that they are. True to its name, the space station looks as an enormous primitive wheel, spinning on its axis, a long cylinder to which it is attached by a central bisecting spoke. Landing in the Imperial docking bay, it is time for the slaves and their handler to disembark.

"Safe travels and good hunting." The Melitto gives a business card to any who conversed with him, prior to exiting the shuttle. No liberty has been authorized for the task force, but a short intelligence-gathering mission might be reasonably justified.

Watching the slaves disembark for a moment, Den ducks back into the cockpit to get changed into his civilian barb. Popping back out he had pulled on black shirt and a rusty coloured jacket, lined with some kind of fur. "Alright!" he would declare loudly as he re-enters the main quarter. "I am not spending any more time cooped up with you lot. I'm heading out to grab some food and relax. I'm going to be back in a couple of hours alright?"

With that he strides down the boarding ramp and onto the stations floor. Cramming his hands into his pockets he stomps away from the shuttle. He would head out looking for somewhere that serves something greasy and unhealthy. The kind of thing that his drill sergeants would go pale at the sight of.

After getting his food he would look for a seat near by to sit down and stretch out his legs. He would lean back in his chair and watch the station dwellers pass by as they go about their business. It was kind of cathartic, seeing everyone rush about on their own business.