grievous/obi-wan/qui-gon/hondo/hera

The hulking shape of the general's cruiser continued to blot out the stars quietly from its position in orbit, a constant reminder looming over the planet gripped in fear. Since the last warning which demanded the world's leaders to turn its people upon the Jedi, Grievous had been uncharacteristically silent. Almost patiently so. All good things must come to an end, however, and without warning another communication rained into the screens of any listening. There stood the hunch figure of the Separatist Commander, clawed hands spread before him steading upon a console hidden out of the hologram's sight. His gutteral voice relayed the anger his face could not convey. "You have had more than enough time to come to your decision. Since there are no Jedi dead at my feet, I can only determine you have chosen wrong." The cyborg's clenched fist came down upon a console at his si

de as if he were throwing a tantrum, but with those buttons mashed came the images of five of the hostages upon the screen. Two human women, a man, a female Rodian, and a Rodian child. Their names clearly marked, their age, their relatives, all information gathered during the screening, on display to instill guilt within his enemies and hatred for them from the planet's population. X's marked themselves over the cards. "Congratulation Jedi, you have killed these people. But, I am not without reason. For every Jedi that turns themselves over, I guarentee the release of fifty prisoners. For every hour this does not happen, those fifty shall die instead. This is your final chance." The communication was cut but a single line remained open, should the bait be taken. Grievous had far more than fifty prisoners which might give some semblance of hope that some could be saved

, if not all. In truth, if Grievous so much as thought the Jedi cared so little for the fate of the numerous hostages he'd taken, then the Separatist General had no use for them either. Within the hour, every creature he'd taken was to be exterminated to focus his resources on a brute force assault. The dark maw of the ship turned its broadside toward the planet as it readied to enact the real plan. Vulture-class droids poured from its side, some taking position on the hull of the ship while others descended toward the planet to reenforce the ground contingent. The droid's city encampment had received a different set of orders long before this announcement, and that was to continue the spread of their hold on the area and this time, take no prisoners while doing so. B1, B2, DSD1 dwarf spiders, destroyers, fully-manned (droided?) AATs, and vultures, were to lay rest of the city to ruin.

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It was time; Hera had spent last evening and the day double, triple checking that The Ghost was in top condition- pristine. This was no Millenium Falcon, held together with elbow grease, spit, and spite alone. The VCX-100 light freighter had been built and extensively modified with the Rebellion in mind. Aptly named, these (87+) modifications had rendered her ship nearly impossible to detect with imperial sensors; the separatists were from a time before imperials, and thus she had every confidence that the Ghost could get in and out undetected. This ship was her home, and it had been with her for years-- for mission after mission, battle after battle. This was just another one to add to the list. The crew had been debriefed, with Chopper in charge of keeping the ship running in the event of damages-- or operating one of the turrets, if Hera found h

erself spread too thin in the cockpit. It was a skeleton crew, but this would hardly be the first time. Jacen, though she had zero intention of allowing him off the ship, was already excited about the prospect of being a 'pirate' if things went south. But if things went south, that kid knew all of the Ghost's secret nooks and crannies-- time spent helping with repairs had ensured that. From the cockpit, the pilot glanced over her shoulder-- the two jedi were already shackled and 'roughed up.' A broad-spec transmission signaled for approval-- and after waving the jedi, Chopper, and Hondo over, she accepted. Grievous, to exactly nobody's surprise, was escalating. Demanding jedi heads in exchange for hostages. "He won't even let us gift wrap you first." She commented dryly as the transmission ended, shaking her head in mock-disbelief. "You ready?"

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"Quite the fetching look for you, master jedi." He spoke in regards to the two who had appeared quite rough compared their typical appearance. "Costumes will only get you so far. Considering the rumors of this droid commander, and my own personal experience... I can assure you.." He paused and rubbed his chin, "That he is quite the simpleton! This will all work out! Hahah." Glancing to Hera and then down to the Jedi, he'd peer back over to his ship which was being tended to by his own crew who were busy loading up various crates that were large enough that three or four of his crew needed to tend to one at a time. "Careful there, eh? We don't want more trouble than we already have!" One would actually think that Hondo was taking what valuables he could and booki

ng it - It was the intelligent choice after all. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I believe my part is coming up and unlike our friends here. Hondo doesn't need a disguise to put on a good performance!" with that said, he clasped his wrist behind him and started moving towards his saucer shaped Corona-class frigate to ensure all was going as planned. "Do you have the link up set?" He questioned to another who nodded quickly, "And the functions? They are still limited to what we spoke of before?" Once more, the other Weequay nodded, "Aye captain but it'll make do." Hondo's usual jovial nature seemed to crack momentarily, "It had better." That said, he turned back to glance at the others to wave. "Do not fear, my friends. You can rely on Hondo~." A terrible choice, really.

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 Qui-Gon, as he always did in the time before a mission, found himself in a place of contemplative silence-- not quite meditation, but somewhere close to peace. It had been quite some time since he and his apprentice had fought side by side with the odds stacked against them. General Grievous' threat was a grave one indeed, and not one to be taken lightly. Hands shackled at his back, and lightsaber hidden against his person, he was as prepared for this mission as anybody could. A low, contemplative 'hmm' emanated from the back of his throat, brown brows knit solemnly. "Remember, Master Kenobi," His voice was low, rumbling-- barely above a murmur. "'Impossible' and 'Challenging' are but two things often mistaken for the other; but make no mistake, they don't have anything in common." Hondo's enthusiasm earned the tiniest upturn of a corner of his mouth, silent, dry amusement. "Fear, my friend, never crossed my mind. We have not doubted you for a second." There was an inscruitible steadiness to his tone; near-impossible to tell if sarcasm or genuine intent settled behind his words. Through his strengthening bond with his padawan, Obi-Wan may recognize that it was both in equal measure.

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 this couldn't have been orchestrated any sooner, they lacked the immediate forces for an immediate retaliation, they'd had to run through plans, learn of each others strengths and then, review and take stock of supplies,--- and yet, Obi Wan took this delay as a failure upon himself. And now, forced to watch the cruelty of the General in full view of the holoplayer, his gentle face contorted into a scowl of resentful ire and bitterly pained sadness. These people did not deserve to be play things for such vile darkness. The Master Jedi took a moment to dip his head, purposefully unkempt fringe hanging lowly over a scuffed and smudged face. A moment to mourn. And a moment to regather his thoughts, recollecting his presence. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. "He's never been

one for patience, a miracle of the Force that he held out this long at all." Try as he might, he could not keep the edge from his voice. Subtle, but clearly cutting into his words; righteous discontent. Hondo, however, was a non too gentle, gust of fresh air, so to speak. The Pirate cared little to nothing, for the hostages they were plotting to rescue, and in a small space, his lack of feelings surrounding the newly dead, helped to keep the negativity from building around them. A gift, in a way. It certainly helped Obi Wan find his centre. With hands bound behind his back, far more loosely than the charade would have it appear, and Lightsaber carefully tucked under the bracers of his armoured arm guards, he gave Hondo a polite nod, one marred by a mildly cheeky smile. An expression shadow

ed by the severity of this task, "I expect to hear songs about it later, Hondo. Your best performance yet." Once the pirate had disembarked the ship, Obi Wan gave Captain Syndulla, as her rank of General had yet to be revealed, even still, the go ahead to begin and to send the transmission to the teams tackling the ground mission that they too, could start moving into place. His back then found purchase against the cold walls of the Ghost, taking a moment to strengthen the bond with his former Master, in equal measure. It really had been a while, hadn't it? Surely fighting together again after all these years, would be much like putting on an old boot; comfortable and familiar. "Impossible has never been a word I would use to describe our good general. Senselessly short sighted, perhaps."

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 --Hondo's remarks earned an exaggerated eyeroll from the rebellion general; unfortunately, this was far from her first time working at his side. Ramp retracted, she got the Ghost's baffled engines started and sent out the transmission to the ground forces. It's go time. With Zeb in the co-pilot's seat, dressed as poorly as she'd ever seen, she began their ascent. Towards the Malevolence. There was no time to waste-- just one look at Obi-Wan's severe expression confirmed it. "You ready, Spectre-4?" He grunted his affirmation; there was no doubt in her mind that he would sell his role as the jedis' handler.

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