Open Parade of Ghosts

[Éponine]

- NEXUS CITY || IMPERIAL ENTRALLA-

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The Parade of Ghosts was in full swing. Soft lanterns hung from every balcony and gangway in the historic district, with the rich scents of local cuisine hanging in the air. The side streets were choked full of eager Entrallans, out to enjoy themselves on this most exciting of evenings. The main roads filled with wonders; costumed dignitaries and vibrant floats, drenched in lights and twinkling jewels. Imperial Peacekeepers stood vigilantly, watching proceedings whilst keeping aware for trouble.

Éponine spared a moment to watch the parade pass, hearing cheers and laughter around her. With her hair down and the smile on her face, she could have passed for anyone on Entralla, caught in a moment of joy on that most wonderful of planetary holidays. A dancing figure in a sparkling cowl passed her, bathing her in a soft, golden light. Pretty. Here we had the circus, all you needed was the bread.

She pulled her hand away from the railing and moved back through the street, forcing the smile the remain on her face. She'd prove no trouble and give no cause for suspicion. Not yet, anyway. Her mission on Entralla was simple: use the festival as cover to scout out the extent of Imperial control on the planet and, if the moment presented itself, infiltrate a Peacekeeper office.

She eyed a few officers as she walked down the street, taking a tally in her head. They were out in force, though she knew that was a double-edged sword. How many were resolutely focused on the job vs. how many were just taking the chance to watch the show? She'd note down all she could later, back in the safety and isolation of a transit shuttle. As she moved past them, her eyes fell on a station. The Imperial crest hung over the open doorway, as the lit sign spelled out it's purpose.

An opportunity?

 

[Alderaan]

In the thrumming core of the parade, Alderaan found himself a driftwood in a sea of jubilation. It was an intriguing irony; this cacophonous display of spirit orchestrated under the grim gaze of the Empire. Here he was, sent by the Resistance on a hushed assignment, not to fan the flames of rebellion, but to trail a potential tinder - the progeny of an Imperial Czerka contractor, an heiress. The crux of his mission laid in the peculiar fact that she bore beliefs incongruent to her patriarch, views that dared to challenge the totalitarian might of the Empire.

His mission had been a nebulous trail, a covert ballet danced across a triad of distant planets. Anticipating her presence at the Guild of Interstellar Merchants' congregation on Entralla, Alderaan had spun a web of contingencies. Yet, there was a certain irony in the present twist - the merchant conference swapped for an imperial parade.

Euphoria ebbed and flowed around him as he stood amongst the Entrallans. His olfactory senses were intoxicated by the aromas wafting from local cuisines, the evening air was punctuated with laughter and exaltation. At a distance, the march of costumed dignitaries and incandescent floats kindled a vision that, on any other occasion, would have entranced him. However, his focus remained on the task at hand.

Alderaan wasn't just a spectator, he was a predator - watching, waiting. His eyes, sharp as a gundark's, scanned the vibrant milieu. Every flicker of motion, every incongruous expression, scrutinized. His objective was clear; blend, observe, and track his elusive prey.

@Charndley

 

[Jonathen Baize]

Commander Joanthen Baize and his regiment of soldiers had been deployed to Entralla to assist with peacekeeping during the festival. His soldiers had established checkpoints and patrols across the city. Jonathen himself had faced off against foul magic in a small village to the south not too long ago, so was on high alert for any suspicious activity.

He set up in the Main Peacekeeper Office where they had set up command. He stood around a large holotable; different parades and hot spots, alongside Imperial patrols, were all marked on the map.

The Commander turned to one of his Colonels. "Make sure the soldiers are paying attention to what's important. We aren't paying them to gawk at the festivities. Light a fire under each of your companies." he said. His regiment was solid, they had earned their time off the front line, but he wasn't going to allow them to be lax in their duties. They would be exemplary if they wished to stay in his Regiment.

@Charndley @Aberforth

 

[Dimon Fee Simm]

One of the many benefits of being a Senator was the near-constant influx of invitations to attend diplomatic events across the galaxy. And, since ascending to the lofty posting of 'Emperor', the new incumbent had been keen to extend a broad range of event invitations to the galaxy's political class.

It was how Senator Dimon Fee Simm of Ubrikkia had ended up here today.

Dressed in a black fineweave tunic, accompanied by a light blue sherculién-cloth robe, the Senator was doing his best to pretend to be interested in what one of the Moffs speaking to him was chattering on about. Then, however, he tapped his canto-cane on the floor, a well-established signal for his aide to rescue him.

"Your excellency, if you wouldn't mind?"

Offering his apologies, he shook the Moff's hand and turned to follow Froogle to the side of the entertainment barge he was standing on. It was part of the parade, presumably to show the 'adoring citizens' that the Empire was well-regarded in the broader galaxy. Slowly, it stopped to enable them to disembark, where he had been informed a set of Imperial officers would be waiting for him (@Raydo).

Walking down the ramp, his aide and droid in tow, Dimon clocked the impressive array of imperial troopers - not to mention to suited members of the Imperial Diplomatic Protection Corp that had shadowed him since his arrival.

"Commander Jonathan Baize." Froogle whispered to him as Dimon approached the man and nodded politely. "Senator Fee Simm, Ubrikkia. Your Emperor is most kind to extend the offer of a diplomatic tour, Commander; Perhaps you could fill me on the details of this parade's significance?" he asked politely, seeking to ingratiate himself with the Imperials around him, in keeping with this diplomatic excursion's purpose.

 

[Jonathen Baize]

He received orders to aid in escorting a visiting diplomat. The orders drained the color slightly from his features. There were so many things to worry about today; he didn't want to be stuck babysitting. But if he was honest with himself, most of the planning had been completed. Unless something went wrong, there wasn't much need for his further input. Peacekeeping forces would continue to monitor things.

He wore his crisp Officer's uniform, though he would have much preferred his trooper armor. He still had a blaster pistol in a holster at his side.

The Commander joined the rest of the protection detail, awaiting their guest's arrival. As the Senator approached, Jon stepped forward. "Commander Jonathen Baize, Sir." he replied in greeting. "Its a pleasure Senator Fee Simm. Welcome to Entralla." he said diplomatically. They turned and walked away from the barge the Senator had arrived in.

"Well, I am sure there are others much more qualified to speak with that." he said, hands tucked behind his back as he walked alongside the Senator. "But the Entrallians hold this parade in honor of their society's greatest warriors." he explained.

"We have set up a secure balcony for you to view the parade, if you would like?" he offered.

@Nor'baal @Charndley @Aberforth

 

[Éponine]

Éponine kept watch of the station as well as she could, noticing the arrival of the barge. A complication. Wonderful. Éponine paused for a moment to admire the parade and collect her thoughts. It seemed near impossible for a covert infiltration of the station, not with that combination of Peacekeepers and whoever else was in there. Intel had either vastly underestimated Imperial control on Entralla or they hadn't bothered to brief her well. Time to lean into some dramatics.

She stepped away from the main crowd and slipped down one of the side streets, walking with a confident stride. Just going far enough back where she could get a few moments of privacy. She loosened her hair and let it hang, tussling it up. Undid a few buttons on her jacket and roughed it. Rubbed a few drops of water over her forehead and a few of the longer strands of her hair, to give an impression. After stuffing her pack behind a pipe, she took a moment to compose herself.

Showtime.

Éponine stumbled out of the side street, bumping into a few people in the crowd. Firmly keeping the look of faux-shock on her face, she looked around frantically. Searching. People started to take notice, with some concerned mumbling and complaining occurring. She pushed past a few onlookers, running straight towards a small group of peacekeepers. She took a breath.

"HELP!" she yelled, in her best facsimile of a common Imperial accent. "HELP!" She approached the soldiers, stopping just short of them to take a heavy breath, clutching her thighs. They approached her with well-trained suspicion, eyeing her very carefully. Éponine felt her heart thud as she continued.

"People... back there... boxes... dangerous..." she said, just a little too loudly. Enough for more than the soldiers to her. "They're talking about... about the parade and soldiers and..."

Here we go.

"LIGHTSABER!" she said, eyes filled with fear as she stared up into the featureless helmet. "Red lightsaber!" She felt the mood chill instantly, with the chatter around them dying. The soldiers seemed suddenly more alert, almost snapped to full attention.

"Back there!" she called out, as one of the soldiers turned to radio in what they'd just been told.

@Aberforth @Raydo @Nor'baal

 

[Alderaan]

A sudden keening cry cleaved through the jubilant soundscape, jolting Alderaan's senses. It was a voice marked by urgency, a plea for help. He observed the teeming masses swaying, their attention collectively skewing towards the origin of the outcry. Alderaan tensed, his original quarry momentarily obscured by the human tide. The heir apparent, currently under his surveillant eye, might be whisked away by her vigilant guardians given the chaos, and the pursuit would need to recommence. An inconvenient disruption, perhaps. But Alderaan found himself enthralled by the unexpected.

As a field operative, instinct was his sixth sense, and it screamed at him now to reassess the scene. He maneuvered himself deftly through the crowd, his nimble steps drawing him closer to the source - a woman, histrionic, her voice a knife of alarm amidst the prevailing revelry. Her cry resonated with words that sent tendrils of frisson through the crowd – 'danger', 'lightsaber'. The word, a symbol of a now-mythical order, curdled the air with tension.

Drawing closer, Alderaan scrutinized her demeanor, his keen gaze not missing the myriad discrepancies in her performance. It was subtle, expertly delivered, but a lifetime spent honing his observational skills revealed the minor discordances in her affect and speech. A gut feeling gnawed at him - she was no mere damsel in distress. Was she a fellow operative, an adversary, or something else entirely?

He made his choice, opting for this new unknown over the heiress who had unwittingly escaped his surveillance for the time being. Alderaan would not accost the woman directly, but shadow her from a distance, ready to pounce should she attempt to slip away.

His steps echoed hers, his senses sharpened, every rustling sound, every transient smell locked in his memory, a newfound adrenaline-tinged focus injecting a wild vibrancy to his mission. A breathless excitement filled him, replacing the monotonous tedium of the heiress' pursuit. The real hunt had just begun. As he moved, he kept his senses alert, his eyes trained on the woman, watching and waiting for her next move.

@Charndley @Raydo @Nor'baal

 

[Jonathen Baize]

News spread quickly at the mention of a possible attack and the report of red lightsabers.

"Get the Senator to safety." he said, ushering them into the peacekeeper base while he scanned the area for threats. "Requesting Immediate evac for diplomatic subjects at command," he called over the comms. They would move to the center of the building, with no windows. "Senator, you will be safest here until an escort arrives to move you to a more secure location," he said. His orders were to protect the Senator, so that is what he was going to do.

The base would lock down, all doors closed, and guards posted internally and externally. Reinforcements were also called in to secure the area and check for threats.

@Aberforth @Charndley @Nor'baal

 

[Dimon Fee Simm]

Assassin!

The terrifying thought flashed through his mind. Lightsabers? It could mean only one thing, a Sith Lord had come to kill him. Why else would they be attacking? News had reached those force-addled fools as to the presence of a politician of his gravity and skill! And now, they had come here to murder him.

Swifty, he found himself bundled off by security.

Dimon did not protest, no - he was impressed by their skill! Doors slid shut as he was moved to a safe place, and Dimon swelled with self-importance. At last, the VIP treatment I deserve!

Once inside the safe room, however, he noticed something.

No snacks.

He sat down on a waiting chair, and sulked.

 

[Merian Sere]

It was supposed to be easy.

Peacekeeping. A simple show of force, a deterrent to any would-be troublemaker, a reminder of the might of the Empire even when ghosts apparently swirled about. Merian embodied that by existing. Clad in that red armor of the New Order, unmoving, lightsaber at her side, any Imperial Knight would. Even among the officers and Peacekeepers she stood a league apart. And all the while she watched. As much as she respected the Imperial Peacekeepers as ISB colleagues, the former agent didn’t expect them to look for more today than plain disorderly conduct.

The screams and talks of a lightsaber broke her stillness. As the crowd grew increasingly agitated, Merian set out in the direction of the Peacekeeper office, keeping up with the reports and orders spoken over comms. The thought a Sith might be here had her hand clutching her own lightsaber, tight enough her knuckles whitened. When she was halfway between her destination and the scene, she keyed her own transmitter before the frequency could clutter again.

“Commander Baize,” she announced. “Knight Sere, reporting. Accounts of a red lightsaber are unconfirmed as of yet. Ready to investigate the threat or escort the senator as required.”

@Charndley @Aberforth @Raydo @Nor'baal