"You fellas hear? The war is over." A dust covered rodian staggered to the bar in a dimly lit cantina on Tatooine and sat down, tossing a few cred chips onto the counter. The bartender, recognizing the creature, grabbed a grubby glass, filled it with a foul liquid, and slammed it down in front of the rodian. Most of the cantina's inhabitants merely grunted at the news, a few raised glasses, but most showed no change in their demeanor. A menacing group in the back, wearing battle-scarred armor looked at each other and, almost as one, stood and left the cantina.
"Guess that means we need a new job, huh boss." It wasn't a question. The speaker, a large, bulky man with a long rifle slung over his shoulder and pistol on each hip. His armor, a dull forest green durasteel composite, bore the scars of many battles. His belt held various pouches with supplies he might need if on his own in the wilderness.
"Seems so. We might have to go back to private work. Damn, it was going so well for us!" This man, smaller, wirier, wore a mottled gray armor, with a sawed-off carbine hanging on his chest, spoke with a quieter voice. His belt held similar pouches, with the exception that he had several small blades at his hips.
The final member of the team was silent. Wrapped in a sand colored cloak, it was hard to discern the color of her armor. Bits and pieces were visible, revealing a deep blue, almost black armor, much more form fitting than her counterparts. A small rifle was visible beneath the folds of the cloak, but the bag she held was far more fearsome. Similar to the bag most bomb squads used, had various pockets and pouches bulging with wires, detonite, and other tools of the bomb maker's trade.
They stepped outside, shielding their eyes from the harsh suns of the even harsher desert planet. Quickly, they made their way to the local spaceport, eager to leave the planet behind. They strode in to one of the smaller bays, and did a quick visual sweep of the area.
"Clear." All three said, almost simultaneously. Visibly, they relaxed, hands fell away from weapons, and the larger man sighed. "At least we can relax a little now. The GAR won't be hounding hour asses at every turn anymore. Hell, we can find a nice job guarding a bank of something and just sit back and relax." He walked forward, tapped a few commands on the keypad near the boarding ramp of the YT-1300p freighter, the Spirit of Tralus, and the ramp descended.
Originally designed to haul large quantities of materials across the galaxy, the Spirit had since been converted to the more suitable personnel variant. Walking up the ramp, the three quickly removed their weapons and over tools no longer needed. After depositing their equipment in the armory, Green and Gray headed for the cockpit while Black made her way to the communications station.
"Spirit to Lunaris. Turns out this was a bust. We are leaving the planet now. Suggest return to rendezvous point, await our arrival, over." She spook with a calm voice, her eyes already drooping.
"Uh, roger that Spirit. We are returning now. Do you need an escort, over?" The voice on the other end seemed a bit surprised, but knew better than to argue with Black.
"Negative Lunaris. Have the crew assemble in the mess hall. We have something to discuss," she said grimly, not at all looking forward to telling the group about the breaking news in the galaxy.
--
"As of today, the Clone Wars are over. Chancellor Palpatine just announced in a few hours ago. It seems word still takes some time to get all the way out here." Draik Tavok, the man in the gray armor said to the assembled crew of the Lunaris. As a group of war hardened mercenaries, they were expected to take all news in a stoic, silent fashion, and they didn't not disappoint. Kodee, the warrior in the green armor, stepped forward.
"We realize the war was the only thing keeping a few of you on board. If you have a ship of your own, you can go. Anyone who didn't have a ship, we will be making for Nar Shaddaa, so you can secure transport elsewhere from there. That is all." He moved off to the side, waiting for the others to finish.
Chemm, the soldier in the black armor, took her place at the front of the group. "Our plans now include finding more work, obviously. We don't know anything for sure yet. We obviously have a high demand skill set, and have an excellent record of living up to the expectations of the client, so work shouldn't be that hard. Anyone staying, you can expect a new job, or job, soon." With that, the three left the mess, heading for the bridge.
Along the way, the insignia for the mercenaries group was painted in several locations, almost like an actual military vessel. The corridors were kept clean, and the ship itself was in relatively good condition, despite its age.
An old CR-90 corvette, it had, at some point, been modified with a rather extensive hangar bay, with enough room for a squadron of fighters, and a few shuttles or a freighter. After being acquired Chemm, who had already had dealings with Draik and Kodee, it was refitted with a newer defense system. Together, the three managed to train a small, elite fighting force and unleashed them upon the galaxy close to the outset of the Clone Wars.
The group, Lunaris, sharing their main ship's name, were not overly special. While being an elite group, there were only 67 of them, and most times, at least half that number had to stay aboard the ship to keep her running. They were a diverse group, able to meet a variety of needs a client might ask for. The one thing that no one else had, however, was their weaponry.
Each member carried a slug thrower rifle. Specifically, they were modified verpine rifles, specially designed to be modular, meaning different parts, like the barrel, the receiver, or the stock, could be changed out, depending on the mission. An even more unique aspect of the weapons, dubbed "verpine specials," was not even in the weapon itself. Because the weaposn fired solid slugs as opposed to blasters, Chemm, Draik and Kodee had seen an untapped ammunition source: the battlefield. Each member of Lunaris also had a small device strapped to their belt which could carry two magazines from their weapon, in the case of the standard configuration. When they had to swap mags, they simply slid the empty clip into an unoccupied space and pulled a fresh one out. At any point in the battle, if the soldier could reach out and touch a piece of debris, he had a source of ammo. The small device would churn out new projectiles using rock, duracrete, or even snow, to fill the weapon. Thus, they never had to worry about carrying too much equipment.
Chemm was the first through the door. She quickly made her way to the captain's chair, and began setting a course for Nar Shaddaa. The ship turned about, and blasted off into hyperspace.