Village of Lianorm, Naboo
1745 Hours, Sunday
1 Hour before Sunset
Had it not been for the seriousness of their mission, this would have been a beautiful scene in front of them. The sky was bathed in a swathe of oranges and reds as the sun (Naboo the star) began its journey over the horizon, offering its light to the opposite side of the world (Naboo the planet). Ten men, separated into two squads, each occupying its own side of the cobblestone street. Lianorm was a small settlement, only about 150 people held residence there, including some farms and ranches on its outskirts. One stone roadway snaked its way down from the hills into the village, and it served as the main thoroughfare. The road divided the town along the North/South axis, and continued to Lasay, an even smaller village 21 kilometers in the distance. Royal Security Force once described that road, known only as “Roadway 1”, as the most dangerous travel route on Naboo.
Roadway 1 was flanked on both sides by swampland, unfit for farming or the raising of animals. It was home to all manner of thieves, thugs, and pirates. The Imperial presence on Naboo had allowed the RSF to dedicate more resources to cleaning up the area, and the locals enjoyed a new level of peace and prosperity. But Outlaw feared the actions of the Imperial Army recently had put that in jeopardy.
“Uptown, this is Downtown One, we are entering the village,” Outlaw reported.
“Downtown One, we have nothing unusual in our sights, will continue to advise,” replied the sniper/spotter team, located on a hilltop a few hundred meters away.
‘Downtown One’ was Outlaw’s team, himself, Candro, Zach, Berran, and Abstreiter. Across the street was ‘Downtown Two’, five troopers from another long range team. Uptown was the sniper and spotter on the hilltop, positioned to see most of the village. The sniper was equipped with a Czerka 6-2Aug2 sniper rifle with a laser sight, a weapon boasting incredible range and accuracy. It was especially dangerous in the hands of a Special Forces sniper, and had a high enough caliber round to disable a land speeder’s engine.
The center of Lianorm featured two more cobblestone streets, running parallel to each other, intersecting Roadway 1, giving the settlement an “H” like appearance from overhead. Centrally located were a town hall, some small shops, a tavern, a theater, and a hotel. While the village did not have a large population, visitors were frequent, mostly trying to purchase livestock or produce. The theory Task Force Grim Reaper was subscribing to was that this village was being used to resupply local insurgent groups. This is why the troopers had to tread lightly.
There were about two dozen people walking about the village’s street, most gave the troopers only cursory looks. Each man had his weapon drawn, but Outlaw had ordered them to appear as non-threatening as possible. They had left all of their heavier weapons at the base, the majority of the crews opting for carbines. Special Forces troopers had the option of using whatever weapon they felt comfortable with, what was best suited for the mission, and the best weapon for their particular job on the team. This is why marksmanship with a wide variety of weapons was important for an SF Operator.
“Hold up guys,” Outlaw spoke into his headset.
The team held its progress, and Outlaw rubbed the stubble on his chin momentarily as he looked around. Part of their attempt to look less threatening was foregoing the helmets on their armor. Each man instead wore a headset with a monocle Heads-up Display (HUD) that could be moved in front of one eye. The teams were totally integrated information-wise, with access to real time global positioning and three dimensional maps. In order to compensate for the lack of night and thermal vision options, both of which were contained in the SF Operator’s helmet, the team carried standard Army issue light amplification goggles in their rucksacks.
“Hey, ‘Law … No one seems to be worried about us just yet,” observed Hammer.
“Yeah, I noticed,” Outlaw replied, taking note that so far, no one had even blinked at their presence.
Hammer casually took a few steps forward and peeked between two modest houses, both looking rather empty. The broad shouldered Staff Sergeant had his TC-22 rifle slung in front of him, one hand loosely on the grip and the other resting on the muzzle. He and Doc were the security element for Downtown One, which is why he selected a longer range weapon with some more punch. The teams were trying to maintain some form of security without fanning out aggressively into combat positions. Despite their intense training and extreme level of experience, they were all on edge. They were taking a massive risk being here, but it was necessary for the larger mission, so they prepared as best they could and went out and did their job.
A pair of human men approached Outlaw’s team, teenage boys really, judging by their smaller stature. They strolled casually; wearing the baggy clothes the locals often wore, usually to conceal weapons. The two villagers didn’t look particularly threatening, more like curious at the armed group moving down the street. One of them raised his hands in front of him and spoke to Milky, who was at the lead of the column.
“Hey guys. What are you doing here?” the boy asked casually.
“Hey young man,” Outlaw replied, stepping forward, “We’re just looking around, got a few questions for somebody.”
Outlaw held out a holo-projector in his right palm, an image of Leerlalli Merkrit, a Mon Calamarian who owned a large homestead on the east end of the village. He had been investigated by the RSF several times before for extortion and selling stolen property. Merkrit went by the name of “Poppy” and liked to think Lianorm was his private little empire, enforced by his two sons and their gang of miscreants. The attention the area had gotten recently had forced him into more low key endeavors, but Outlaw knew he would be a good place to start.
“Poppy? It’s his dinner time, he’s at the Town Tap, his tavern over there,” answered the young man, hoisting a thumb over his shoulder.
The troopers noticed that more people were wandering up to them now, mostly curious young people and children. Outlaw exhaled sharply, young kids caught in the crossfire were what he wanted the least right now.
“Stay sharp boys, head on a swivel,” the lieutenant warned.
Gradually, the crowd around the two knots of troopers grew to about 2 dozen each. The men of Task Force Grim Reaper began passing out candy and little trinkets to the locals, and a few of them snapped pictures with the armed troopers. Outlaw walked up to an older man, who was walking a guallama behind him.
“Greetings my friend,” Outlaw began, extending his hand to the man, allowing his carbine to sling to his side.
“Greetings to you soldier,” replied the man, briefly shaking hands with the visitor.
“I’m Theodorik. To what do we owe this warm reception?” asked the lieutenant.
“These folks assume you’re here to protect them from the pirates,” the old man shrugged.
“Pirates? Tell me more,” Outlaw said raising an eyebrow.
“Well, we’ve always had a problem with Poppy and his sons, I’m sure you know who Poppy is already … anyway, Poppy, while he took our money and basically whatever else he wanted from us, he did offer us protection from the thugs out in the hills.”
Outlaw wore an interested look; he had already activated a recording device in his wrist and would take a picture of the man with his data pad momentarily.
“When the Army came through town, and started roughing everybody up, they sort of scared the frell out of him, ‘scuse my language.”
“And these pirates, they took advantage of the situation?” Outlaw concluded.
“Yep, with Poppy’s gang lying low, the pirates have had free reign of this village. It’s got a lotta people scared, ya know? Anyway, when the children saw you guys get off of that ship a few kilometers from here; we figured you were way too organized to be pirates.”
Outlaw pursed his lips at that statement. Using kids as a look-out was an old tactic they used to use on the streets of Tyrena. The pirate situation was a common one too, the familiar “power vacuum”. The military thinks it’s doing a good thing by removing the local warlord, but once that power figure is gone and the military leaves, it’s a perfect opportunity for someone else to seize control. Nine out of ten times the one seizing control is far worse than the local thug that was ousted in the first place. It was a conundrum that they hadn’t figured a solution for yet, and it was presenting itself all over the galaxy. For now, his orders were to find out what the Mon Calamarian knew about these rocket attacks, he would deal with the pirates later.
“Downtown Two, move out to Merkrit’s house and talk to the staff there, I still want to know who is responsible for these rocket attacks. I want to talk to Poppy and see what he knows,” Outlaw spoke into his mic.
“Roger that, Downtown Two is moving out,” replied the other team’s squad leader.
Staff Sergeant Kurhet “Krayt” A’Sardu led his squad of five operators east through the village, toward Poppy’s modest estate. While the mention of pirates had been something worth investigating, the rocket attacks on the troops were more pressing. Krayt was an intelligence expert and an accomplished recon trooper, making him an easy selection for Krienz on this detail. His bald head and sinister gold eyes served as effective intimidation tools as well. Outlaw knew he would put that to good use at Merkrit’s place.
“Let’s go give this Poppy guy a visit,” Outlaw ordered his team.
Downtown One moved slowly through the small crowd to the front doors of the tavern. Outlaw noticed a frantic young man standing there, look at them, and then race inside.
“He’s going to try and go out the back door!’ shouted Outlaw.
Doc and Hammer began to double time it to the rear of the building, one of the largest the village had to offer. Milky and Outlaw cautiously moved into the front doors of the establishment; Buzz took a position guarding their entry. There was a “U” shaped bar, located in the center of the room, with tables all around it. The pair was largely ignored by the twenty or so patrons sipping drinks or having a meal at one of the tables. Milky’s eyes trailed back to a table near the back, with a half eaten meal centered on it. The chair accompanying it was knocked backwards on the floor. Outlaw spotted the nervous young man from outside, sitting at the far end of the room trying to look natural, and failing.
“Downtown Two Security, Poppy is headed your way,” Outlaw warned.
“We’ve got him,” replied Hammer, breathing hard.
“Fracker ran from us, but we caught him,” supplied Doc.
“Good, I’ve got one here that’s going to join us outside too,” the Lieutenant said, looming over the shoulder of the nervous man.
“Hey buddy, come on outside with me, will ya? It won’t take long,” Outlaw said casually.
The man turned slowly, and looked wide eyed at Theodorik. His cheek was stuffed with food, obviously caught in mid chew.
“You can finish that, my man, take your time,” Outlaw said calmly.
The young stranger turned back to his plate, shut his eyes tight and gulped down the contents of his mouth. He picked up his glass and looked at Outlaw, silently seeking approval. The trooper nodded and grinned, so the man washed down his hastily consumed food. Moments later they were outside, and Outlaw noticed right away that Buzz had his hands full with a gathering crowd. Doc and Hammer were searching Merkrit, who was standing in front of them with hands raised. It seems some of the locals took exception to this.
“Step the frack away!” shouted Buzz, swinging to his right toward some of the civilians.
Outlaw rushed out into the cobblestone street to meet them.
“Whoa, whoa, we’re okay here, everybody relax,” he attempted to soothe the crowd.
He pointed to the group of around fifteen men that was now edging uncomfortably close to Buzz.
“You there, move back, I’m not kidding. I don’t want to shoot anybody today.” Outlaw commanded gruffly.
The men relented, the shouts from the crowd settling slightly, but only slightly. Altogether the squad estimated a crowd of thirty onlookers, and it was growing as curious people began filtering out of the tavern.
“Greetings Poppy, you can put you can put your hands down. I’m Lieutenant Outlaw with Task Force 3242. I have some questions for you.”
“Of course, everyone has questions for Poppy,” he responded blandly, complying with the order and lowering his hands.
“Poppy, I want to know about the rocket attacks,” asked Outlaw.
“Rockets? No, we don’t use rockets. You have my word as the warlord of this village, we do no such thing,” was Poppy’s answer.
“You’re lying, Poppy,” Outlaw observed, “Don’t insult me dude, and don’t lie to me.”
“I’m telling you, we don’t do that, we have nothing to do with that.”
The Mon Cal was mildly insulted at being referred to as ‘dude’, of Corellian street slang, but complied nonetheless.
“I don’t give a frack about your extortion or your petty theft. I want to protect this village from those pirates and I can’t do it if you and your thugs are firing rockets at us.”
Poppy gave his interrogator an exaggerated shrug.
“Sir, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Outlaw had both hands on his hips; the crowd had now grown to over fifty people. They had to either take Poppy in right now or let him go. He moved his HUD screen away from his eye, and took a step back.
“Who is this character?” Outlaw asked, referring to the nervous young man he plucked from the bar.
“Bah, that’s just my look-out, Rex, he warns me whenever the pirates come into town. The less I talk to them, the better, you know?”
“Hey, junior,” Outlaw shouted to Rex, who answered with an inquisitive look.
“Yes, you, go back and finish your meal.”
Rex hesitantly started for the tavern door, Outlaw offered a reassuring gesture. Finally, the young man picked up his feet into a run, and disappeared through the saloon’s entrance. Outlaw turned toward Merkrit, and took two steps, closing the gap between them to mere inches. He bore his green eyes directly into the huge orange eyes of the Mon Calamarian.
“If you’re lying, then you’re dying, you dig that, fool?”
The Mon Cal shuddered at the vernacular; obviously this trooper was southern Corellian, possibly from “the Skids”, a particularly nasty section of Tyrena. It suddenly occurred to Poppy that these men might not be Imperial soldiers at all, they might be hired mercenaries. They probably did not receive the standard predictable Imperial training, which made them very unpredictable. Poppy was about to speak when he noticed all of the operatives suddenly wore very serious faces.
“Downtown One, this is Downtown Two, we are taking small arms fire here at the Merkrit house.”
“Hammer, Doc, Milky, go!” Outlaw shouted, he then spoke into his microphone.
“Downtown One is en route; we have your location on the global.”
The Lieutenant then turned to Buzz, who still held their detainee by his long brown robe.
“Let him go, let’s get over there.”
