Charter — Roleplayer Guild

Dovah perked his head up from his meal with a surprised look, he was to be carried by SoNem? He glanced at the dragon, granted SoNem could probably carry him but Dovah half thought the dragon would 'accidentally' drop him at some point. Dovah didn't have any time to protest as SoNem approached, "I hope you've finished eating." Dovah took a quick last bite as the dragon got hold of him and hoisted him into the air. A few moments were spent with SoNem's sii awkwardly finding positions to keep his grip. With that, they were off in the air.

Dovah lazily observed the ground and surrounding sky as they flew, he wasn't able to see much when every dragon was flying for their life at the time but now since it's a smaller group, he could actually enjoy seeing the world from this high, all he had to do now was actually get his wings. With that reminder, the sacks on his back started to itch in an area he couldn't reach, because of SoNem's grip. He did his best to ignore it, though it became a persistent nuisance in the back of his head.

Dovah became alert when the ground started to get closer, why was the dragon landing? Dovah quickly got his answer when SoNem released him from his grip, SoNem had spotted humans and was going to check it out. Before anyone could respond, he darted back into the sky. The serf, Istaria, made a fuss about SoNem killing the humans. Dovah gave a puzzled look, "Why are you worried about the humans? Why should any of us be worried? Their the reason we're out here in the first place! If anything, someone should go with SoNem to make sure none get away." Humans were violent, selfish and evil creatures, yet it seems that two of the dragonelles in the group were oddly protective of them.

A young man wearing AT-ST pilot gear was busy trying clean up a mess he made involving the AT-ST 'Imperial Storm 1', he had spilt caf on the hatch and was desperately trying to clean the mess. He had a damp cloth in his hand, the caf cup and a bucket to his left with his helmet to the right. The young man spoke to himself sharply as he cleaned, "Had to go and spill it didn't you... You just had to spill caf over the hatch which you just cleaned an hour prior, didn't you Carl... You can shoot targets on a wobbly, bipedal machine from a mile away... But hold a cup of caf? No! Couldn't possibly do that! Krakking Caddok will have-" His words were interrupted when he heard someone walking up behind him. He quickly turned around to see a helmeted figure in AT-ST pilot gear standing on the catwalk that lead to the head of the AT-ST as it hung from it's position.

The voice that spoke from behind the helmet was unmistakably Sergeant Major Trump Caddok's voice, "Report Corporal Caltic. Why are you cleaning the hatch again? We did that an hour ago." Corporal Carl Caltic got up from his position and quickly stood to attention, "I, uh, saw a new patch of dust on it, so I... figured I'd give it another clean." Carl knew Trump wasn't going to fall for that, he prepared himself to be disciplined. Caddok seemed to look past Carl before speaking to him again, "Lying to a superior is a dangerous game Corporal. Why did you bring that beverage up here to begin with?" Carl kept himself at attention, "I wanted to retest the equipment sir." Trump seemed annoyed, "Why?"

Carl sighed as he relaxed from his stance, "Cause all the action is on the planet below and we're stuck playing the reserved duck on this claustrophobic space-boat. There's nothing to do but check the equipment and clean the thing." Caddok was his usual, cautious, unadventurous self, "Never look forward to meeting your death, Corporal." Carl spoke back, "Yet we're to remain up here and die of boredom anyway?! Come on Sergeant Major, you can't honestly like being useless up here."

Trump's voice sharpened, "Yet boredom has no excuse for one's actions, especially not speaking back to one's superior. I should be having you run around the hanger a few times. In fact, you can go do that now." Caltic groaned, "Look, I... I'm just getting stressed out from being in space for so long." Trump remained unmoved, "You can feel sorry as you run 50 laps. After you clean up your mess." He turned away to leave. Carl spoke up, "Come on, Caddok! Can't you be at least a little human? Not everything needs to be dealt with roboticly." Trump stopped mid-step, remaining still for a few seconds before slowly turning to face Carl. Carl was expected Trump to bark at him again but before the Sergeant Major could speak, a voice could be heard further down the catwalk, "Sergeant Major Caddok!"

Both men turned to see a man in standard trooper gear and a data-pad in his hand jogging towards them. When the man finally made it to them, he spoke to Trump, "Captain Dennison got orders for us to deploy, sir. We're supposed to do some scouting." The man handed the data-pad to Trump, who read through the information for a few moments before giving a response to the man, "Very well then. When are we expected to depart?" "Within a hour, sir." Trump shook his head, "Make it an hour and a half. Small technical issue with the AT-ST..." He turned to face Carl, who could feel Trump's eyes glare at him through his helmet. The trooper nodded with a slightly confused face, "I'll get the rest of the group organized."

As he walked off and Trump seemed focused on him, Carl whispered 'Yes!' while doing a small arm-pump. He was back at attention when Trump turned to face him, "Caltic, where is your gear?" Carl pointed directly behind himself with his thumb, "In good ol' Stormy." Trump sighed, that was the stupid nickname Carl gave the AT-ST. "Well you better get it together." Carl grinned, "Yes, sir." His grin faded when he remembered he had a damp cloth in his hand, "Uh... What about the hatch?" Trump grabbed the cloth from Carl's hand, "I'll clean it, because you won't have the time to clean it yourself." Carl gave him an odd look, "What do you mean? We have an extra half-hour to work with." The Sergeant Major simply responded, "No, you have some laps to do." Carl gave him a look of bewilderment, "You expect me to run 50 laps in 30 minutes?!" "No, I expect you to run 15, with your full kit." Carl protested, "You can't be serious?!" "20 laps. And if you don't come back within 40 minutes, I'll find someone else to be my gunner." Carl's face reddened with anger, "You couldn't possibly-" "25 laps. And yes, I can. Move it Corporal, you're burning time."

Carl stared at Trump in anger before turning around, throwing open the AT-ST's hatch and jumping in to get his stuff. He then quickly got out of the vehicle and ran down the catwalk to make his way into the main hanger. Trump simply watched him run before dropping the cloth, closing the hatch and fetching for a water hose.

--
Heading towards the planet's surface
--

The ride was pretty much uneventful and it wasn't going to take much longer according the the transport pilot. Carl wasn't overly patient however, his mind raced around with the thoughts of facing combat for the first time in his god-like vehicle. He could already see the rebels cowering in fear from the sight that was Stormy the AT-ST. He starred blankly out the view port of the AT-ST, his hand on the controls as if he were about to drop into actual combat. He was torn from his thoughts as he heard the hatch to the AT-ST open up, he took a quick glance to see Trump climbing down and taking up his seat. When he sat down he removed his helmet before inspecting his side of the controls.

A few seconds passed by before Carl broke the silence, "Why did you wait for me?" Trump looked at him with a 'hmm?' Carl seemed a tiny bit annoyed, "Why did you wait for me? I was 6 minutes late to the time you gave me. Why didn't you get someone else like you threatened." Trump's face remained unmoved as he turned his attention back to his controls before speaking, "Because I can rely on you." He gave a quick glance back at Carl to see a puzzled look on his face, "You're stubborn Caltic, which can make you a good soldier in a fight, but at the time of that situation, you were nothing but a nuisance with that attitude. However, I can rely on you to do what you're told to do. Want to know why?" Carl turned to face out the view-port again as he leaned back in his chair, "Because I'm too stubborn to fail... I don't know when to give up... Yaddy yadda yadda. My dad said the same thing when I was young. Then I joined the army without going through the academy out of spite." Silence again took the cabin by storm, the only sound that could be heard was Trump fiddling with switches and the hum of the transport's engines. Carl again broke the silence after about half a minute, "You still didn't answer my question, by the way. Why did you wait for me?" He turned to face Trump again. Trump slowly and casually turned his head in Carl's direction, "I figured I could be human." A small smile cracked his face, Carl half thought Trump was abducted by rebels and replaced with a clone who could actually make jokes.

Carl faced out the view-port again, "What did you go talk about with the others, anyway? The Sergeant and the scout trooper?" He pointed at the trooper who had delivered the message to them who was standing and talking with another trooper in scout trooper armour. Trump gave a quick glance through his view-port before returning his attention to his controls again, "We spoke about the events that happened down there specifically and what to possibly expect. While we'll be dropped at the starport, it's good to keep these things in check. We also gave each other our personal comms channels, just so we can keep track of each other." Carl looked back at Trump, "You suspect they'll have new orders for us on the ground?" Trump nodded, "I suspect we'll be split up. Sergeant Lant there-" Trump indicated to the man Carl had pointed to earlier, "-and his two troopers will probably given guard duty over a base as they aren't a full squad. The three scout troopers will most likely be given the job we would like to do as a group while we may have a variety of jobs given to us, guard-duty, support, patrol or whatever else they feel they need an AT-ST to do." Carl looked puzzled, "Why would we want to be together as a team? Why does that matter?" Trump took a few seconds to think before giving a response, "Captain Dennison ordered that we should try to stick together, make it easier for when we depart from the planet." Carl shrugged, made sense he guessed.

The sound of the transports speakers caused both men to change the focus of their attention, "We'll be landing in T-10 minutes." Trump gave a nod of confirmation to the disembodied voice before putting on his helmet, "Gear up, Corporal." Carl rolled his eyes, not like they really needed to gear up when they were landing in a heavily defended Imperial location. He, however, decided to follow Trump's orders.

Trump started the AT-ST, it's engine grumbled to life. A number of displays came to life and a few holographic images did as well. Trump spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, "Stabilizers functioning, fuel tank nominal." Carl did his system check as well, "Weapon heads up displays are functioning. Blaster weapons fully charged. Targeting systems active." Trump continued to press a few buttons as he spoke, "Check the 360 hologram target viewer while I check the comms." Carl looked between them, and there sat a holographic display of the AT-ST and it's surrounding environment. It was positioned in such a way they both could look at it out of the corner of their eye. A few green dots appeared before turning into holographic representations of their allies within the transport. "Holo target viewer functioning." Trump nodded as he flipped a switch, "This is Imperial Storm 1, call-sign C-21. Are you receiving me Sergeant Lant?" Sergeant Lant could be seen giving a thumbs up as he spoke back to the AT-ST crew, "Affirmative, Sergeant Major. Can you hear me?" Carl gave a thumbs up out the view-port, getting a chuckle out of Lant. Trump rolled his eyes, "Yes Sergeant, we hear you loud and clear."

--
Two days later
--

Trump was grateful that the group managed to stick together, though he didn't know how that happened. At first, it seemed they would have been split apart when a tired looking Lieutenant was giving them positional orders. His mind seemed to change when Carl spoke with him privately, though Carl hasn't explained what he said to him or how he managed to convince him. The group were given orders to simply patrol around the living districts, Sergeant Lant and his two troopers would be the 'friendly' faces that spoke with people while the AT-ST walked around with them as if it were a pet. The three scouts would simply drive around on their speeder bikes within distance of the AT-ST, keeping their eyes out for anything suspicious and reporting frequently. Trump had the task, as highest rank of the group, to keep track of what info and suspicious characters they came across. Most of it was simply speculation, rumors about the neighbor or outright paranoia of rebels hiding in their closets.

Carl wasn't overly pleased with how things were going however, "I wish something would happen... A bar fight... Rebels feeling desperate and engaging us... Something!" Trump rolled his eyes before going through his data-pad again. In his off time he would spend time adding info into his personal journal on the device, probably not the most private place to put sensitive information, but it at least helped him with his side of the boredom.

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