An Empire United [IC]

[Greymane]

http://media.moddb.com/images/articles/1/92/91231/auto/Imperial_Venator.jpg

The briefing room was, at a glance, clean. There was, however, a stale, musty odor that not even the subtle hint of alcohol-based cleaner could not cover up completely. There was also a matter of the central light; it flickered every 4-5 seconds. This was all just one room however. There was the odd bit of grime or grease that could be found in the hallways, an access panel was seemingly taken off for maintenance and then forgotten. You think you saw an astromech droid walk itself right into a wall. All of these little defects added up. It made the ship seem as old as it was.

This briefing room was located on the port side of the Venator-Class Star Destroyer Guardian, next to the starfighter command bridge which had fallen out of use, due to its inactivity. The bridge was still staffed by a single, mousy communications officer, however. Her red hair was short, but permed, and her face was marred by a smattering of freckles. Her rank insignia marked her as an ensign, and she did her absolute best to look engrossed in her work as each of you had passed her.

You have each been summoned here via personal comlink, only being told that you had a vital mission to complete. All of you have only been on board the ship for roughly a day, but no officer nor any communication has come to you prior. You were practically ignored as you got off your transport shuttles to the ship, with only an ensign to inform you of the quarters you would be using. Though more than one crewman has regarded each of you with a lingering glance of curiosity. Even the mouse droids seemed to follow you around a little longer than usual.

Tarick Durrane stood roughly four meters away from the entrance of the room, and perfectly at attention. He wore an Imperial Naval uniform and cap, and his rank insignia of two blue and two yellow squares in a single line marked him as a Lieutenant. His black hair is cropped short, and he sports a trimmed, very thin mustache and brown eyes. He glances at those of you assembled intermittently, with barely contained calculating judgement. He makes no motion to engage any of you in conversation, however.

Thus, only silence pervaded the room, interrupted every few seconds by the soft electrical buzz of the center light flickering.

[Saulk]

The black and white astromech droid looked around at the assembled company, the dome spinning its complete circumference accompanied by a dull but focused pulsing of the red indicator light that formed its 'eye'. She had been on a ship as old as this before. That was a long time ago, though, and what happened there would not happen here. The other organics in the room were known to her. How could they not be? She knew, at this point, the majority of the staff aboard the ship in intimate ways, as close as if she had known them since their birth. Their secrets were hers.

Access had been easy, and would have been even if it were not for her credentials. No one paid any mind to an astromech that happened to be plugged into a SCOMP input/output port on a ship. The days leading up to this meeting had been been spent in alternating "research" and "charging" phases, perfectly spaced to the limits of her power capacity. Time well spent.

The organics that surrounded her seemed capable. She surveyed each in their turn, the slowly pulsing red light appraising them in a way that might be deemed "thoughtful" to a more poetic viewer.

[Redshaw]

Ensign Kei Fora stood behind the Lieutenant; his uniform was immaculate, his grooming precise, and his handsome face in a neutral and unmovable expression. He kept hands clasped behind his back and his legs spread slightly in a military "at rest", he stares forward at the summoned. Duty required he remained silent. Fear of the Lieutenant's wrath, not respect, required he remain an unnoticeable as possible.

Tarick Durrane was a clever man, a middling pilot, and a brutal officer. He took credit for the work of his men, and lashed out at his inferiors without provocation when he could get away with it. In particular, Tarick disliked Kei. And because of this, he had the ensign assigned to his personal unit so that he may torture and tract the boy as he saw fit; being placed as officer of the watch for days at a time, refusal of port-leave passes, even going so far as to sabotage his uniform so that he might be reprimanded for it later. It had been less than a month since Kei was commissioned on the Guardian and already he was considering the perks of being jettisoned out an airlock.

But for all the cruelties that Tarick might lavish upon his Ensign, he could not crush the boy's present jubilation. A tour of duty that took them to the Bakura system; the very edge of known space. And beyond that, no maps existed, no known hyperspace routes, an entire 3rd of the galaxy uncharted and filled, no doubt, with life, resources and adventure.

Tall, stoic, and silent, Kei watched and waited.

[Henry the 57th]

The room's lone alien occupant surveyed the other three members of this apparent team assembled to deal with the mission through cold, unblinking red eyes. The alien woman's face was carefully neutral, with just a touch of viciousness about the piercing eyes - as she had been trained to look. Her blue skin was smooth and blemish-free, her dark blue hair cut close to her head. Over her nondescript black tunic, pants, and polished jackboots was a long black robe. There was no insignia on her clothing, but a glance at the elegantly curved black-silver weapon at her belt made her identity and Inquisitorial position obvious to any Imperial of rank or knowledge. Her arms were folded behind her back, and her head moved barely a fraction as she looked around. Were she any more still, she could have been a statue.

A clone, a human, an astromech droid, and an alien. It sounded almost like the set-up for some crude cantina punchline. Nonetheless, the Inquisitor knew that they had to be competent, or they could not possibly have been summoned here. Unless this was some kind of test... But the alien woman dismissed that thought. If it was a test, she would pass it, regardless of what the others were or were not. She glanced briefly down at her lightsaber, hoping it would soon see use.

The past few days had been trying, true, but she was already used to such petty, primitive-minded prejudices from some among the Empire. And when compared to the merciless training required to open oneself to the dark side of the Force, such complaints as lack of proper greeting seemed rather trivial. Not that it prevented her from desiring to gut the person responsible. Anger was her strength, hatred her ally.

Inquisitor Cia folded her arms over her chest as seconds turned to minutes and her patience began to diminish. She was eager to be in the field, engaging the enemies of the Empire and putting her training to true work. To stand waiting here was an irritant. Knowing nothing about it was even worse. It was time to break the silence. "How many more are expected?" she said to Lieutenant Durrane in a voice nearly soft enough to be a whisper.

[Dent-2020]

2020 stared forward at attention and surveyed the occupants of the room from his peripheral vision. A young naval officer. Pilot. An astromech droid. Technician. A tall Chiss woman carrying a lightsaber - a weapon he had only heard of before and never seen in person. Intelligence. And himself. Rifleman.. Their summoning together shouldn't make sense, but he found that it did. It fit a pattern he recognized: a four-man squad of specialists, and a CO. This was a Commando Unit. Or... something very close to it. It was nothing like any Commando unit he had ever served in.

No. That's wrong.

The knowledge wasn't his. He'd never served in a Commando unit before at all - strange and alien, or otherwise.

His reassignment to the Guardian had included orders to receive advanced tactical training. Training that would allow him to think more creatively, adapt to a changing landscape of conditions, and operate independently in the field. Such training, however, was a lifelong process, and transit between Felucia and the Bakura system, even with the medical frigate's frequent stops for aid and resupply, had only taken four days. The training had, necessarily, been a flash-download.

The process, he found, was terribly disorienting. He had worried at first that the extra knowledge would graft onto his existing training, but never take root. It might sit on top of him like a chunk of duracrete, and it wouldn't be there when he needed it. He had not even thought to worry that it might turn him into someone else, but that was more what this felt like. When the medical techs had brought him back out of chill, he had not felt any different, but over the course of the next three days, memories and procedural knowledge began to filter in; memories from another man, and knowledge that wasn't his. At least, he thought it wasn't his. It was hard to tell sometimes. The whole thing was just so... seamless.

He needed to get out of his own head. He turned to what he, 2020 - not some other guy, did when faced with an unfamiliar situation: he stuck to the standard operating procedures. SOPs would save your life. So, present when summoned, stand to attention, await further orders. Simple.

The Chiss female was the first to speak. She had arrived before him, and had radiated impatience from the time he entered the room. She wanted to know who they were waiting for. Who else would be arriving.

He doubted there would be anyone at all. Four men to a squad. We won't be needing anyone else.

[Redshaw]

Kei's stone faced exterior cracked only slightly as his dark eyes fell on the Chiss woman. He blinked once in surprise and then again in comprehension; for all his years spent on Coruscant, center of the Galaxy, he could count the number of Chiss he'd seen on one hand. And now here stood one not only an Imperial, but one of the Emperor's favored. His eyes take in the Inquisitor, several moments spent observing the sleek metal pommel at her hip; he knew what it was and he knew it was to be feared. She was a fascinating creature, incredibly beautiful and undoubtedly deadly, like a Yerdua poison-spitter. A thousand questions to ask her rushed through his brain, but none escaped his lips.

His training reverted itself to the forefront of his mind and his attention readjusted to staring ahead, face forward and disciplined, awaiting the lead of his Lieutenant a few paces ahead.

The soldier nearly distracted his attention as well. Battle-worn armor and ancient equipment; he too was a relic of a bygone era, much like their ship. Kei did not mind; he found that the old stories were usually the best.

The droid, too, was an enigma. A survivor and an entreated guest, something unusual indeed. Undoubtedly, revelations were due in this gathering of Imperial oddities; he needed only wait. He doubted his Lieutenant knew the answers to the Inquisitor's questions. Pity, he thought, I hear the Inquisitors are very talented at finding answers in more creative ways than simply asking.

He had little love for Lieutenant Tarrick Durrane.

[Greymane]

Cia's voice was like the crack of thunder in the previously quiet room. Lieutenant Durrane's initial expression betrayed him for only a moment. A flash of irritation was quickly replaced with a softened one of practiced, professional respect. "My lord, forgive me, but I do not know. I was summoned here and told I was to take part in an important mission. That is all I know." His accent easily betraying his high Coruscanti upbringing. "I thought perhaps it was you who had done the summoning, in fact."

As if on cue, the doors to the briefing room opened, and another man slowly entered the room. He was dressed in a simple dark colored tunic and pants, with a dull red zeyd-cloth robe over it. His black hair was long and reached the center of his back, and it was kept at bay by being tied in a tight pony-tail, giving his fair-skinned face a severe accent. Slung at his hip was a similar metallic hilt to Cia's, though it lacked the same elegant curvature. He surveyed all of those gathered in the briefing room with a glare, somewhere between a merchant taking stock of his inventory, and a kath hound stalking its prey.

He says nothing initially. He walks towards Lieutenant Durrane first, eyeing him up and down appraisingly, but ignoring Ensign Fora completely. Durrane was quick to shut his mouth and stand at attention. The new man then stepped towards 2020 with the same look, making a single nod as if to confirm something unheard or unsaid. At stopping at KL-03 his already joyless visage seemed to frown even moreso. Finally, he made it to Cia, where his expression turned towards more curiosity than resentment. His gaze landed on the lightsaber at her hip, and the left corner of his mouth, ever-so-slightly, curled into a small smirk.

The man walked to the center of the room and surveyed everyone together. "I don't like any of you." He allowed his words to linger in the air for a moment before continuing. "However, someone, somewhere, thinks you're valuable." He pauses once more, then folds his arms. "I disagree." His gaze turns from that of hostility, to neutral disdain. "My name is Morgan Velorus. You will address me as 'my lord', or 'Lord Velorus'. You have been placed under my command and supervision because each of you has impressed the right people." Velorus drops his gaze for a moment. "Or the wrong people." He shoots his razor-sharp glare back at the lot of you. "Despite each of your different backgrounds, you are to work together. I will personally assign you to tasks, and you will complete them exactly as ordered."

He breathes in sharply and pauses, the light above him flickering as he does so. He brings his right hand up and quickly forces it into a closed fist, which causes the light above him to break and shatter in a shower of sparks, dimming the center of the room slightly. "You have this opportunity to ask me questions, and then we will get underway."

[Henry the 57th]

Cia barely had time to shake her head in response to Lieutenant Durrane's theory before the new arrival showed himself. The Chiss woman watched what she presumed was a more senior Inquisitor carefully as he took stock of the group. When her turn came, she kept her expression one of respectful neutrality, not yet knowing what to make of the man. At his smirk, anger stabbed at her - how dare he smirk at her weapon - but she forced it back down again. She remembered well the consequences of irritating a superior during training. The lightning was quite painful.

When he began making his speech, Cia was paying close attention to every word and adding mental commentary. Well, I don't like you either... she noted to herself. As he went on, she became more and more sure this was just another of the Inquisitorious' tests. It positively reeked of the kind of underhanded surprise examinations the instructors loved to spring on unwary pupils.

The man eventually used the Force to crush a light. Cia barely refrained from raising an eyebrow at the excessively melodramatic gesture. Apparently he enjoys putting on a show for our benefit. Intimidation of subordinates to extract maximum effort was a standard trick of their kind. Her Chiss eyes had little difficulty adjusting right away to the slightly increased darkness.

The offer to ask questions came, and Cia wasted little time in asking the most obvious one. "Lord Velorus, perhaps you might enlighten us as to why such... varied service members as ourselves, with no experience with one another, have presumably been chosen to work together on an important task?"

[Dent-2020]

Wrong again, Trooper.

The lieutenant was not his CO. The Chiss female was his CO? No. With just the short exchange between her and the lieutenant, 2020's world tipped on its ear. The numbers were not coming out right, and he began to wonder why he had so automatically assigned a combat role to the astromech droid in the first place. He'd seen one just like it run into a wall not long ago; this one was probably just lost.

Get your head right. Broaden your scope. Being issued blast tape doesn't make you a Demo expert, and not every problem gets solved with grenades. You will be given the intel you need, when you need it.

The world righted itself again in his mind. That was the benefit of training; it organized the universe for you.

When the new man entered the dim confines of the briefing room a fraction of a second later, 2020 was prepared. Mostly.

He was an exercise in extremes. His clothing was simple and unadorned, yet the black hair he wore in a non-regimental style all the way down his back spoke of extravagance. His countenance was as severe as any 2020 had ever encountered, and, like the Chiss female, he carried a lightsaber at his hip.

2020 kept his eyes front and his stance steady as the man surveyed him. It was easy to keep his face a stone mask even under the Inquisitor's withering glare; he had been bred to serve the Empire, and inspections and appraisals had been a part of his life from infancy. It had always been made very clear to him: he would meet or exceed all Imperial desires, or he would die.

Given that, he wasn't quite sure what to do with Lord Velorus' speech. The statement 'I don't like you' was standard fare, meant to inspire a desire to win your CO's confidence, 2020 knew. He'd used it himself with his squad on Felucia. He had, however, also hoped his troopers would prove him wrong. When Lord Velorus said it, he genuinely sounded like he'd be just as happy ordering them all to take an unsuited space walk.

It didn't exactly inspire confidence. Neither did the inexplicable way that he had just shattered that lightbulb without touching it.

The Jedi General's from the war had all been force-users, of course, and the old mission reports 2020 had devoured as a boy had spoken of the awe and confidence the troopers from the Grand Army of the Republic had felt for their leaders. Somehow, all of them had failed to mention how much it felt like standing two meters away from a lightning strike.

2020's head buzzed with questions. Who would be taking point? What would their comm situation be like this far out from the core? Would they be operating with the knowledge of troops stationed in nearby sectors? Would extraction be possible?

He tamped them all down. Lord Velorus didn't sound like he really wanted to hear questions at all.

He'd figured out not long after leaving training at the Rishi outpost that the Empire hadn't bred an army of clones because they desired individuality or free thought.

The nail that sticks out gets the hammer.

[Saulk]

The droid found an inner reservoir of humour that was tickled by the appearance and demeanour of Lord Velorus. Organics enjoyed their preening, and relished their ability to determine hierarchies and orders of who they were better or worse than. In the world in which KL-03 existed, there was only the distinction between right, and wrong. Success, and failure. Everything else was silliness.

Of course, that didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun. She had considered utilizing her vocabulator during this meeting, but thought against it. Instead, she utilized the same burst of binary she used to communicate directly with machines. She knew that some organics were capable of understanding her binary language, but that was only when she deigned to shorten its nuances for them. This time, she did not feel so inclined. Unfortunately, the rapid burst transmission could not carry nuances of meaning, nor would it necessarily even be understandable to non-organics, but if the one styled as Velorus questioned her, then she would enjoy the explanation. She did however repeat the "core" of her question at a slower pace so that she could be understood, presuming that the others around her as highly trained individuals would be able to understand binary.

"What is our task? What are the parameters for completion? Who do we report to amongst the four of us? What resources will be provided? What clearances will we have or require?"

She felt it best to keep her questions business like. At least two of the individuals in the room were Jedi. KL-03 knew about them. Dangerous, and unpredictable at the best of times, and when annoyed even worse. She trusted her skills and programming implicitly, but the vagaries of the magic they performed were lost on her circuit-based mind. The soldier she understood. He was a clone. They made sense, and were skilled at their tasks. Programmed biological robots. She approved heartily of their design. The Ensign made sense as well. The robed figures though...she mentally let out an affected humanoid sigh. They would have to be watched.

[Redshaw]

Kei watched the discussion between Durrane and the Inquisitor from the corner of his eye. Polite. Defferential. Disguising your mental squirming. Well acted, Lieutenant. He wondered if the force-user could detect the fear in the Lieutenant as Kei Fora had learned how to identify it. Then again, most were probably fearful in the face of the Inquisitor.

Kei himself found that curiosity filled his thoughts more than horror. He'd seen lightsabers in the museums on Coruscant many times before; it was contraband to possess one privately. He wondered if it was warm when ignited. He wondered if it really could carve through a blast door like arc welder through butter.

The tall man's entrance interrupts his thoughts. The ensign keeps close attention through the new Inquisitor's explanation. He was intelligent and he was powerful, but more than anything, he was arrogant. Kei knew how to deal with arrogance. Of course ensign Fora does not outwardly wince as the light bulb shatters, but his thought processes recycle themselves. His interlocking hands grip each other until his knuckles are white. Lightsabers were something he could understand: technology, ancient perhaps but elegant and a collection of parts. The Force was... not so dissectable. Kei had never before seen such a display and it filled his stomach with a bolus of dread.

He keeps his focus forward as the questions are asked and his ears perk at the chittering binary; he was fluent in the language of droids, to an extent, but he could only collect bits and pieces of this astromech's beeping vocals. The droid's questions echoed his own, though he knew better than to speak up. Furthermore, he made note that the Inquisitors were not acquainted, or of a previously established agenda; or if they were, that's not the impression they want to leave on anyone else in the room. The clone does not speak, which does not surprise Kei. He takes a step forward, moving for the first time since anyone has entered the room, to speak quietly into his Lieutenant's ear intentionally too low for others to hear.

[Greymane]

Lieutenant Durrane allows himself to to eye his fellow prospective squad members with a narrowed, disgusted gaze. He mutters under his breath, low enough that only the closest person to him, Kei, is able to hear it. "An alien, a droid and a clone? Repulsive."

Velorus stares directly into Cia's eyes intently as she speaks, almost as if he were going to leap into that crimson abyss and take hold of it. "I'll give you the same answer I was given when I received news of this assignment." He sighs slowly, and adopts a tone that verges on mockery. "As an Empire we are far too often at odds with ourselves. Rivalries and lack of communication between different branches are common. We need to prove that isn't always the case."

He paused for a moment, and then continued without the condescension. "But as for why each of you in particular?" He made a dismissive motion with his left hand. "You'll have to ponder your own respective pasts and draw your own conclusions.

Velorus then turns his attention to the beeps and whirring of the the astromech droid. His head tilts slightly as he listens to the machine. "Finally, the questions that matter. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that only the droid and soldier..." Velorus turns to look at the clone who was perfectly at attention. "Are the ones actually interested in the mission." He permits himself a brief, dry smile.

"The only noteworthy planet in this system is Bakura. Not officially part of the Empire, but there is a lot of business done between us and that miserably boring rock. Lately, there have been... obstacles keeping the Empire getting what belongs to it. " Velorus begins to absent-mindedly pace in front of those gathered now, his hands move behind his back and interlock with one another. "The corporations involved blame pirates, and say it has become a serious problem as of late for them. So much so that as much as 50% of their shipments have been waylaid and and their ships and crews relieved of their shipments." He stops his pacing for a moment and looks directly at his audience, skepticism dripping from his glaring visage. "And yet, the damage to the transport ships is always minimal, and there has never been a crew fatality during one of these raids."

He ceases his pacing and faces the assembled with a softer and more professional tone of voice, though a glance is spared to Ensign Fora for a brief second. "Our mission is to find the pirates responsible, and stop their theft of Imperial assets. If that is all you do, I will consider our mission a failure. We must also find out how they are so successful and why they have chosen only two particular corporations to target. We will play the part of the merchants, and take a freighter along the normal shipping route. When our pirates show themselves, we will disable their ship, take prisoners if possible and take any shipping logs they have."

Velorus then turns his full baleful gaze to Kei, and speaks in a casual tone of voice. "I do not like mumbling ensign. It irritates me. If you have something to say, say it so that I can hear it. Durrane goes wide-eyed and begins to offer an explanation or an apology, but Velorus holds a hand up and the lieutenant closes his mouth.

[Redshaw]

Kei resists the almost necessary temptation to roll his eyes at Durrane, while outwardly nodding his head in resigned agreement. As a privileged Imperial from Coruscant, the ensign no stranger to the rampant xeno-phobia infecting the Empire, and sharing a berth with fellow officers for two years on Carida introduced him to many of the supremacist attitudes shared by his peers; it was an aspect of his position that he has never taken to completely, though he has learned to at least tolerate the typical intolerance of his fellows.

Kei knew exactly why he was here. It was not because he was an exceptional or proven officer. It was not because his family was wealthy and of political weight. It was not for his heroic actions that enlisted him on Carida. It was because his Lieutenant, the celebrated Tarick Durrane kissed the right asses and stole the right credit with impunity. Kei was officially present at this meeting as Tarick's yes-man; he would play the role to an extent, but damned if his sole duties would be relegated to blindly affirming the bully of an officer's bumbling theories and tactical buffoonery.

His full attention returns to Velorus as the rigid Inquisitor continues his explanation, thick eyebrows unconsciously knitting together as he processes the information, filters the clues and attempts to draw conclusions. No casualties and minimal damage to the ships... now that is curious.

Kei's thoughts are interrupted by the Inquisitor's sudden interest in him and his heart skips a beat, dark eyes widening to stare at the man like a lost nerf found on a launch pad. He swallows and glances to Tarick for a moment in the hopes of direction but, not to his surprise, the Lieutenant is even more cowed by the attention than he is.

Ever since his graduation from Carida, it was not in Kei's experience to be given attention. He would speak only to his direct superior and the Lieutenant would speak on his behalf, if he did at all, which was rare. Beyond that, Kei only found conversation among his fellow ensigns and so, suffice to say, to be directly addressed by this secret agent of the Empire put him off his guard. Does he salute an Inquisitor before addressing him? He did not bore any ranks and there was no mention of how to integrate with a man of his stature in the Imperial Navy Protocols booklet. He decided on not saluting, instead remaining in a military at rest, while privately praying his brain was not turned inside out.

It took only a moment for him to regain his composure before addressing the man. "Sir." The first half of the one-syllable phrase comes out in the squeaking tone of a man-child who has not quite yet fully matured. He curses himself quietly, clearing his throat before once more attempting his explanation, this time in an almost comically deeper tone of voice, "Sir. My apologies. I was only..." He glances at Tarick for a moment, deciding on the possible repercussions of the telling the truth or not, "Translating the droid's questions to my Lieutenant, sir." Like the Lieutenant, Kei possessed a lilting accent that identified him as one of Coruscant's upper class.

He very pointedly did not look at Durrane at this point; he could feel the man's eyes burn laser holes into the side of his head and he knew he would be punished later for revealing his Lieutenant's inability to understand binary to this Inquisitor, but Kei figured that would be better than the punishment in store for lying to an individual who voluntarily chose to match blaster fire with a sword.

Kei paused once more, thinking about the consequences of choosing to continue or not; technically he satisfied Velorus' complaint, but Durrane was already be upset with him, so why not at least attempt to garner some less-than hostile opinions from the Imperial agent while he was at it. "...if it pleases you, my Lord, I also may have a theory, regarding the suspicious circumstances of these shipments." If he didn't speak now, it would either never come up again or the Lieutenant would steal Kei's thoughts for his own and take the credit, as he usually did. But not this time.

[Henry the 57th]

Cia listened patiently as Inquisitor Velorus spoke, arms once again behind her back. When he looked into her eyes, the alien red orbs stared right back at him without so much as blinking. She found it quite easy to keep her poise perfect when she desired it - anyone who had been through the Ascendency's military training would feel the same way. As the man described their mission, her internal alarms went off all over the place. Her thoughts came quickly as she processed the new information. This is way too easy. The corporations are skimming their own products in cahoots with the pirates. Probably selling the stolen goods on the black market for added profit. The crews are likely in on it. No one who's been through our training could miss that. So what isn't he telling us? she wondered. Her assessment that this was a test shot up.

When Velorus spoke to the lieutenant and soldier, Cia gave them a glare. She had a pretty good guess as to what they were talking about. Small men tended to hold tightest to their petty prejudices. No matter. They'll obey or die, like everyone else. She brushed the thought off with nary a qualm and went back to her earlier train. They have to be testing us. No way even the blowhards in high command could be this dense.

After mulling the matter over for a few seconds, the Chiss is once again quick to speak up, a certain familiarity with the officers of the Inquisition dulling much of the fear most felt. "By "we" will impersonate merchants, I assume you mean all of us here, correct? Including yourself, my lord? And will we need to "dispose" of a freighter crew on Bakura or is something already lined up for us? And it is my personal estimation that we shall quickly find these pirates to be in bed with at least certain high-ranking members of the two corporations. I suggest we leave some sort of force behind to observe the movements of these officers and prevent any sudden departures."

[Dent-2020]

2020 startled, momentarily, when Lord Velorus mentioned him in approval - he had not spoken, and it was not the first time the Inquisitor had given him the impression of looking through rather than at him. Did the Force allow him to read minds? Was such a thing even possible? Could a mind be spiked like a computer and the data read as such, or were there only general impressions?

The Empire owned his actions. It also owned his mind; they could choose to flash-download training units for half the positions in the military into his brain and make him a General over night, or they could wipe his memory completely, if it served their needs, and there was nothing that he could or would do about it. He knew that. And yet... the idea of his mind as an unlocked datapad for this man was deeply unsettling in a way 2020 could not account for.

He took the order to ponder his past literally. It had never occurred to 2020 to question his assignment here at all, and it was strange to him that the Chiss Inquisitor would preoccupy herself with a question that had such a simple answer. If the Empire chose him to serve on a mission, it was because he could get the job done. Does the same not hold true for her? If the object of this team's formation was to foster cooperation between the branches of the military, then perhaps he was selected simply because he was a good representative sample of the Stormtrooper Corps. Or perhaps he had been chosen for this mission because of his experience engaging pirates and smugglers taking refuge on Felucia.

The intel that he would be on another pirate hunt, more than anything else, really got him thinking. The pirates he had encountered on Felucia had never had any problem leaving bodies in their wake. Even the smugglers could be temperamental; turning easily upon the very merchants that had hired them, given the right monetary incentive. Black Sun, The Exchange, The Zann Consortium... none of them were exactly known for being gentle. Was Lord Velorus suggesting that the thieves might be in league with the corporations reporting the thefts? And, did they have any idea which pirate gang was operating in this sector?

His thoughts were interrupted, however, when Lord Velorus turned his acrid temper upon the young ensign keeping carefully in the shadows behind the Lieutenant.

2020 found he disliked the naval Lieutenant with an insubordinate vehemence he wasn't used to. If any of the guys in his squad had been called onto the carpet by a superior officer - even Crosshairs, he thought ruefully - 2020 would have covered their six. It was painful to watch the young man flounder while his Lieutenant stood there like a lump of space rock.

He wondered if he was about to watch an execution.

But then the ensign did something 2020 could never have expected. He rallied.

[Redshaw]

"It is my personal estimation that we shall quickly find these pirates to be in bed with at least certain high-ranking members of the two corporations. I suggest we leave some sort of force behind to observe the movements of these officers and prevent any sudden departures."

Kei nods his head excitedly as the Chiss speaks and he expounds upon her theory now, not waiting for permission as an idea builds in his mind and compels him forward to act perhaps without the full amount of discipline expected from a man in his position. He speaks with abandon now, a very stark contrast to the quiet and nearly invisible officer the group initially met. "Exactly, m'lord!" His eyes flick back to Velorus, "Or, m'lord, if you'll entertain me, the Bakura system is on the rim and remains to be annexed by the Empire." His hands unclasp from behind his back to animate his words now, "It is not entirely unfeasible for a system such as this to be... let us say more lenient with and, dare I say, sympathetic towards insurgents and rebels. Perhaps these are indeed corporate-funded privateers motivated by nothing more than greed, as my lord suggests, yes. On the other hand, perhaps they believe in much more... altruistic purposes." His hand lifts to tug on the collar of his uniform; he realizes now that he's suddenly grown quite sweaty and his uniform seemed very stuffy, tight and constricting. Perhaps it was a temperature change in the life support system, more likely it was self-consciousness. The vigor of his explanation was dying swiftly as self-awareness dawned. "It is not completely outside the realm of possibility that these attacks are directly funding derelict Separatist terrorists... my lord."

As he finishes this last statement and finally gives word to the theory that itched the back of his mind, it fully dawns on Kei that he has, perhaps, just now stepped across a line from which he can never return. He clears his throat, wrapping his hands once more behind his back, and stepping in line behind his Lieutenant. He very clearly now wishes to make himself as small and in-obvious as possible, like a katarn curling against a tree trunk.

[Dent-2020]

The Lieutenant had been silent through the kid's entire speech, but his expression throughout put 2020 in the mind of friendly fire, and the ensign appeared to have caught on. The excitement the boy had shown during his explanation dimmed, and he quailed under the combined scrutiny of his Lieutenant and the Inquisitor.

I should do something.

It wasn't intel he had needed before, but it was relevant now. If the Ensign had spotted a pattern he hadn't, and his speculation held true, 2020 didn't want to be packing a Gaffi stick to take on an army.

For the first time since the briefing began, he drew attention to himself. He took a quick step forward out of line and saluted.

"My Lord, would the goods that have gone missing be of use to support an insurgency?"

[Henry the 57th]

Cia blinked once in genuine surprise before her training reasserted itself. Unusual... The Imperial Navy didn't make a habit of encouraging such initiative in junior members. Unquestioning obedience was the name of the game if one wanted to get anywhere. That this one showed independent thought made him something of a rarity, and therefore worth at least a cursory examination from her before the inevitable retaliation from his superior.

Cia slowly walked over to the young man and looked him over carefully. Her red eyes seemed to glow a touch brighter as she circled him briefly like some sort of shark. Her face kept the same expression of careful neutrality as she took in all his features and added them to her mental databank. Eventually, she halted in front of the human. "Tell me, Ensign, what is your name?" she asked in a quiet voice, hand over her chin in a thoughtful pose.

[Redshaw]

Cia would find that even a Mandalorian drill sergeant would have difficulty finding complaints in the ensign's grooming and uniform. No errant hairs or loose threads are to be found on his coat or leggings. His boots are polished to the point where one might see their own reflection. His midnight hair is clean and orderly while his pale face is shaven and curiously undisturbed by pox for one so young. His hands are without calluses and his long fingers have trimmed nails. He smells clean, of soap and boot wax. He wears a belt containing several tools and a perfectly clean blaster pistol is sheathed in its holster. His dark eyes stare straight ahead, not into Cia's eyes, but past them, as he keeps his regimental pose, fully aware of the consequences he will be enduring after the conclusion of this interview; he will not risk giving his Lieuteant an excuse to compound that punishment.

Kei tried to ignore the closeness of the Chiss and the scrutiny of her gaze. An energy surrounded this woman that was difficult to define; predatory might have suited, but he felt no menace from her. He couldn't help but observe once more, from the corner of his eye, that she was beautiful in the same way a Corellian Sand Panther was beautiful: incredibly dangerous and something to be respected, if not feared.

As she addresses him, he snaps his boots together, the heels clicking as they impact. At the same time, his hands unclasp and extend down to his sides while his chin tilts upward and his chest expands as he stands at full attention to answer her question, "Ensign Kei Fora, m'lord. TE-2251." He recites his name and identification proudly and clearly, but does not scream it as though he were a brutish marine. His boots spread once more to roughly shoulder-distance and his hands re-clasp behind his back.

He cannot see his Lieutenant's face at present, but he can feel the hatred emanating off his superior officer like solar flares from a small dwarf. Retribution was coming, but damned if he would show any fear of it.

[Henry the 57th]

The Chiss woman slowly looked Kei up and down once more before nodding, as if satisfied. She folded her hands back behind her own back. "Good. Good. Your theory seems plausible, Ensign. Worth taking the time to at least investigate, I would think." While, her face remained a blank slate, Cia added a brief glare at Lieutenant Durrane before she turned to walk back to her prior spot. The message in her eyes was unmistakable: this one is mine, so watch yourself lieutenant. Hopefully he would do nothing foolish after this was over.

Cia kept her arms carefully clasped behind her as she resumed her position a short distance from the two human Navy officers. Ensign Fora seems like someone worth something, at the very least. Probably why he was brought along. she mused as her red eyes look back to Inquisitor Velorus. She resumed her focus on the other Inquisitor, trying to gauge his reaction to her actions. She thought that the reaction might give her some clues as to his personality and competence.

[Saulk]

The droid carefully considered all of the facts that were laid out before them. Posing as traders would be no problem for her, though she was concerned about the ability of Kei Fora and 2020 to pass as merchants under close inspection. Intelligence training taught that believing the part was half of the battle when under cover, and she doubted the ability of those two to break from procedure. Certainly, under calm circumstances they would be able to maintain their calm, but when things went wrong...would they resort to their own training, or stay in character? She'd seen enough intelligence operations she was running support for go south for exactly that reason.

The Chiss Jedi she was less concerned about. Their magic let them know what another person was thinking, and so she could probably change her attitude just enough to allay suspicion, if it was rising. The droid held no worries at all about herself. She would see a mechanic on board the ship and authorize a change in colouration. Much as she hated dispensing with "uniform", her blending in would be simpler without the stark black and white and imperial insignia she bore. A roughened and weatherbeaten exterior, perhaps in an earlier colour scheme that was in vogue in the Core a dozen years ago would serve as a backwater trader's astromech of choice. Beyond that, no one questioned her particular model, especially aboard a starship.

She returned her mind to the more immediate task, acquiring further information from the one known as Velorus. Once again she slowed down her words so that the others could understand the bleeps and whistles. "If our transport is already in our possession, I would suggest getting a point-to-point communications system installed. This will allow me to communicate directly with the ship before we dock with it. Alternatively, I would suggest we mask the life-signs of you organics and send a distress signal. A mockup of our cargo as an expensive commodity would...encourage...passersby to be altruistic and stop to aid the ship, thinking that you were already dead. At that point, they could be killed or incapacitated. I leave the questioning of meat to you. I will then be able to deal directly with the ship and its records."

[Greymane]

Velorus leered at Ensign Fora menacingly. Trying to bore a hole into his head with his vision alone. His face soon adopted a more pensive expression, as the young ensign began to speak. Durrane kept his silence, and he watched Kei with a great deal of interest, now that he was the center of attention. Wicked glee danced in his eyes, initially, but it quickly faded as the lad managed to not swallow his own tongue.

Lord Velorus by this point had folded his arms, as Kei's exuberant theory exploded from his throat and caught the attention of the alien inquisitor. Slowly, torturously, he began to appear bemused by the exchange. Lieutenant Durrane's sadistic light returned to his eyes as the female inquisitor approached Kei, but to his abject horror, she threaten him with her gaze. "I apologize profusely for Ensign Fora's insubordination, my lords. I will see to it that he disciplined properly for it." Fortunately, the soldier used his vocal chords, allowing Velorus to turn away from the exchange, and respond to Dent.

"The corporations in question, Arden Repulsorlift, and Bakur RepulsorCorp, manufacture their namesakes: Repulsorlift coils. Our very own vehicle corporations such as Aratech and Ikas-Adno, make extensive use of Bakura's shipments. Could they be used for an insurgency? Considering those coils can be found on absolutely anything that flies or hovers, there is no doubt any insurgents would want them." Velorus pauses for a brief moment, and looks back to the young, excitable ensign. "That is, of course, assuming something so grand is taking place." He turns his attention to Cia. "As for watching the companies in question, I made the same recommendation, but I was told that was being taken care of." He briefly looks irritated. "And yes, I will accompany you for this mission. If I must directly intervene, however, your mission is also a failure. I need to see how you function as a team." His steely glare returns as he finishes.

Finally, Velorus addresses the droid. "We have a transport that was used by a previous group of operatives in an attempt to waylay the pirates. It did not work, so we can only assume the pirates recognize all of the corporations transport craft, or they saw through our forged transponder codes."
Velorus breathes in through his teeth. "So we have two options. Another attempt with our craft, or travel to Bakura proper and... procure," he smiles "a cargo ship and crew." He allows a lull in his talking, and then his eyes light up. "And as for who will command amongst the lot of you? Decide that for yourselves. How you decide a leader shows character." He smiles thinly.

[Henry the 57th]

Cia snorted faintly is disdain. This was obviously one of the Inquisitorius' tests, but it seemed far too easy. Either they had seriously dropped their standards... Unlikely or else there was to be some sort of "surprise" for the lazy or exceptionally stupid. Perhaps the pirates would be packing fully-shielded droidekas? Or posses a battle cruiser? Maybe they'd all be Gen'dai commandos equipped with top of the line weaponry and cybernetics? Any way one sliced it, this was not something one would call together such a squad for if all was truly as the good Inquisitor described.

Once again, the Chiss female's bold and direct nature came to the fore as soon as Inquisitor Velorus ceased speaking. "This simply adds further weight to the theory. The corporations and the pirates are colluding, and they posses some means of identifying themselves to their fellow conspirators. That being the case, the only logical solution is to hijack a freighter by some means and take at least a portion of the crew along with us. They will allow us to convince the pirates that all is normal until it is far too late. Then we teach them the folly of attempting to cheat the Empire." Cia smiled and ran her fingers along her lightsaber hilt at the thought of it.

"As to the subject of leadership, I would think such a thing would be an easy choice. I am the one among us with the most training for leading men of differing branches. While I do not dispute the competence of the officers of the Imperial Army and Navy," she nodded at the clone, the ensign, and the lieutenant, "To effectively manage their own men, a certain degree of inter-service rivalry has unfortunately prevented them from coordinating as efficiently as they might have in the past. I can bring an outsider perspective, one trained to deal with all aspects of the Empire and balance them equitably. Therefore I nominate myself for leadership. Does anyone have an objection to this course of action?" Cia looked around, red eyes fixing on each team member in turn, promise and the vaguest hint of danger in her stare.

[Greymane]

Velorus unfolds his arms, raising his right hand with his index finger extended in objection. "Being convinced of these theories is all fine and good, Inquisitor Indra..." He stops and clears his throat, "Cia, but we must find the proof. It's plainly obvious that the companies have a hand in this in some way. Finding out just how much their involvement," he pauses to look at ensign Fora for a moment. "Or even the government's involvement goes, is what's important here." There is a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"Otherwise, we'd be wasting our precious time."

[Redshaw]

Kei retains his composure throughout the Inquisitor's examination and when she has finished, relief floods his system. The jubilation does not last; although he passed her test, whatever it was, he knew he would be sure to suffer for it at the hands of his crafty lieutenant. His face remains neutral through Durrane's "apology" on his behalf. He found himself quite thankful as well for the soldier voicing his own support of the theory, though perhaps with a more neutral and practical question. The higher ranking lord seemed less impressed with his theory than the Chiss, but now, at the very least, he might be understood as more than Durrane's heel-licker, which was as much of a morale victory as any ensign could hope for.

The ensign breaks posturing once more, only briefly, to hushedly translate the droid's suggestions to Durrane and quickly resumes his position, keeping attentive through the rest of the briefing. He finds the thought of travelling with both Velorus and the Chiss perturbing; here were individuals who were as likely to kill you as speak with you, with little to no repercussions. He would have to tread carefully, the line between keeping their favor and over-stepping it. At least he appeared to have garnered interest, if not respect, out of the Chiss. And then there was Durrane to keep appeased at least to a degree as well, there was no love shared between him and the lieutenant, but the senior officer's reports would have a very direct affect on his future and advancement in the navy; he could only get away with so much "independence" before it would become a liability. He was a military man, trained for combat, but presently his life was defined by political poignancy and influence.

Kei listened to the options provided by Velorus, as well as the suggestion by the droid, and instinctively attempted to find other possibilities that perhaps had not yet been considered; none came to mind. Why attempt the same technique where others, in the multiple, had failed? If these were corporate-targeted attacks, then it was a gamble at best that the pirates would target any ship besides the very specific shipping ships. Of the four, taking hold of a cargo shipment on Bakura itself sounded the most risky, but also possessed the highest chance of success. He knew that Durrane would dislike that option; between the options of discretion and force, the lieutenant leaned towards force.

When the question of command arises, Kei very forcibly has to keep himself from voicing his desire to volunteer for the responsibility. He had experience with pirates, living among them for weeks himself, and felt that he would have the most to provide for this mission in particular. But his ensign's badge and his lieutenant's ire were weights on his lips too heavy to keep them from opening. No. I will not command. Not yet. Patience, Fora. Patience. He knew that Durrane would be too cowardly to speak against the Chiss, but he also knew that the man would possess nothing but contempt for the blue-skinned agent and more likely attempt to sabotage her efforts rather than forward the success of the mission. Kei could only hope that he would not reap the consequences of his poor-minded superior.

Kei mentally raises an eyebrow at Velorus as he refers to his fellow inquisitor. Cia? That is not a Chissian name.

Another, more concerning thought runs through his mind, though he finds himself unable to voice it just yet, These are high-industry corporations. Attempting to hijack one of their ships off the planet itself, secretly, while taking a hostage, will likely be difficult. The security is going to be exhaustive. His eyes flicker toward the droid for an instant, ...unless this talented little one can find a bypass...

[Henry the 57th]

"I was simply suggesting the method I judged most likely to result in our desired meeting with the pirates. If this investigation were up to me I would proceed straight to the crews themselves. Their lack of injuries and negligible damage to their ships indicates that they are at the very least unconsciously complicit in this. They are likely to have some ideas as to who tells them to stand down when boarded and be much less defensive than the more senior members of the corporations. I have some skill with mental manipulation and I believe that I could persuade them to tell me what I wished to know. I would proceed to follow the threads from there: who tells them to stand down? Then I would investigate him. Then those that I learned of from that one, and so on, until I find the source of the problem. Then the corruption could be exercised in one swift stroke. My personal inclination would be to let the Navy deal with the pirates. But I am not the senior-most leader here. You wish us to confront the pirates, so I am simply attempting to come up with the most efficient way to do so. If faking the transponder did not work, then we must assume some means of communication that at least some of the crew is aware of that we are not."

[Greymane]

Velorus narrows his eyes at Cia as she speaks, folding his arms against his chest once again. His face finally breaks into a grin as she finishes her explanation. "It seems I did initially misjudge some of you. I don't hate all of you afterall." His grin remains for a moment as he shakes his head and forces down a light chuckle. "I would have preferred this tactic, but our instructions and objectives were given to me, and we are not to deviate." He sighs, with a hint of frustration.

[Henry the 57th]

"Unfortunate," Cia commented. "But the Force is with us. We shall prevail." she said in a tone of utter certainty.

[Dent-2020]

"My Lord, if we intend to commandeer a shipping vessel, I believe we should do so by infiltrating on the planet's surface. Attempting to hijack such a vessel already in transit will require crippling the ship's engines or navigation systems, and will likely leave signs of external damage, which may tip our pirates off to our presence. Incapacitating the crew on the planet's surface prior to takeoff by working as a small strike team, although more difficult, appears to be our greatest chance of success for the mission in the long run.

"We should interrogate our prisoners prior to engaging the pirates, as well. If there is some communication required between the shipping vessels and the pirates, we can learn of it. Then we should execute the crew. A force as small as ours could have a rough time controlling them otherwise."

The assessment of their mission's tactics had been simple, but as 2020 applied his mind to their next order, he felt stymied. The order had been phrased 'choose your own leader,' but 'choose on whose orders you would prefer to die' might have been more accurate. It was not something he had ever been asked, and would require some contemplation.

On what merits was he meant to assess the assembled officers here? He hardly knew them, and had no knowledge of their previous experience.

A good leader, he thought, needed to have his mind on more than the battle - he needed to have his mind on his men. His first thought upon hard contact needed to be on the condition and organization of his men, and not on jumping immediately into the fray himself. Understanding his men and how best to use them could win or lose an objective. Because they did not know each other, that meant that their leader would need to be willing to listen to his subordinates.

A better leader, would also understand their enemy. That could mean that the leadership of this mission was the provence of the Navy - policing of piracy and smuggling were business as usual for them.

2020 found himself relieved, however, when the Lieutenant did not put his own name forward. He knew little of the man, but he already knew enough. When his back was to the wall, he backed down. And when his charge was under fire, he left him undefended. These were not the traits of a man that 2020 wanted to follow into combat.

He liked the Ensign better, but his rank was a problem. He would not be able to control his superior officer or the Inquisitor, so he could not be considered.

The Inquisitor's ability to use the Force might give her a good sense of her troops, whether she knew them or not. That was good. She was bold as well, and they would need someone who could take charge of a situation. He did worry that what appeared bold in the briefing room would be revealed as rash in the face of combat. She did not seem unreasonable, however; when the Ensign had volunteered his theory, she had listened and adapted to it quickly. That boded well.

"My Lord," he said, turning to the alien Inquisitor, "What experience do you have leading men in combat?"

[Henry the 57th]

Cia silently regarded the clone for a moment before answering. "I have engaged in battle with enemies of the Empire several times with squads from the Stormtrooper Corps, as well as navy armsmen. I've lead fighter squadrons into battle. I've killed more men than I care to remember." For the first time, a slight curve appeared on the edge of her mouth as she recalled her past exploits. She reached down and lightly stroked her lightsaber with two fingers, like some favored pet.

[Dent-2020]

Nice not to be working with shinies, for once.

2020 shifted his glance from Lord Cia to Lord Velorus - whom it seemed approved of her. That, along with her significant experience, was an even further relief; he did not believe that the Empire would sabotage their mission in the interest of experimentation. If she was not qualified, Lord Velorus could not possibly allow her to lead. Next, his gaze swept to the naval Lieutenant and Ensign, and to the small astromech droid. He did not want to speak for any of them, but neither could he now remain silent. What a leader required more than anything was the confidence of her followers. If he failed to give it, he crippled her.

He set aside his concerns on her character; speculation was no longer relevant, and he would learn soon enough what sort of Commander she was.

He saluted sharply.

"What are your orders, My Lord?"

[Saulk]

The droid once again piped up. "It is not necessary to commandeer the ship planetside. I can convince the ship to help us. Leadership is irrelevant to me, though I will point out you are all organic and subject to impaired decisions and a disturbing lack of logic. If there is involvement from Imperial forces, then we must assume our protocols are now an open book. Behaving according to those protocols is suicidal. Success depends on subverting protocol. We must not do anything that is expected."

[Henry the 57th]

Cia smiled and nodded when the clone saluted her. She grabbed her lightsaber and flicked the activator with her thumb. A long, thin blade of crimson energy poured from the emitter with a *snap-hiss*. She twirled it briefly into an elegant classical Makashi salute before deactivating the blade. Cia held the salute briefly to each member of the group, even Lieutenant Durrane and Ensign Fora. She returned the blade to her belt with a flourish and a tight smile. Now I have them.

The Chiss gazed meaningfully at her new team. "I am Inquisitor Indra'Ciasuera'Nethelan. You may call me "my lord" or "Inquisitor Cia". For any who do not know, I am a Chiss. I will be commanding this operation. Now that my introduction is past," she looked to each team member in turn. "On to business. For now, we need to finalize our strategy. I presently favor the idea of capturing a ship on Bakura itself and taking at least part of the crew with us. But if you disagree, I would at least be willing to hear your reasoning out."

[Redshaw]

A number of emotions swelled inside Kei, throughout this new development. Frustration at his inability to speak or volunteer for command. A mixture of both jealousy and relief at the alleged experience of this Chiss inquisitor, whom he was now to apparently to follow into combat, Durrane be damned. And then, of course, sheer and utter fascination as the lightsaber is ignited.

He'd never seen one lit before. The sound, the heat, the light. It was a piece of mechanical art, a timeless weapon that heralded the heroes of bygone ages. It was stunning.

The Inquisitor's name burns itself into Kei's mind. Chiss names were tricky and its shortening to "Cia" would be much simpler on most human tongues; but Kei was something of a specialist in languages. Still, it would be rude and forward to refer to his new - and armed - superior by her proper name and not her title. He stored it for later; if nothing else, he might make an attempt at research on this woman so that he might understand her better. He'd see if the Inquisitorius managed to expunge all her records.

He could neither protest or affirm Cia's command with his own voice; he relied on his lieutenant to speak on his behalf. But inwardly, Kei could find little complaint about this turn of events. Perhaps this would be a different path to feed his ambition; one that required a little less deference to incapable, intolerable men.

The droid's chirping catches Kei's attention and he steps forward again to privately translate its suggested course of action to Durrane. And perhaps more. ...the Lieutenant will feel no urge to inform the Lord out of charity. But I do believe he can be compelled.

Deception check to trick Durrane into believing that, on top of the plan translated from KL-03, the droid also demanded that its suggestion is translated to Lord Cia. Kei is of course taking a liberty with this last addendum, hence the Deception check

1d20+7

[Dent-2020]

His new commander's returned salute was a thing of beauty. The extended blade of the lightsaber briefly cast the dark edges of the room with a blood red glow that washed out the Chiss Inquisitor's eyes and cast the outline of her azure skin in a deep indigo that bordered on violet. It hummed pleasantly as she twirled it in a precise and practiced arc, and when the blade passed closer to him he could feel the heat that radiated from it, warm as a desert wind.

For the first time since shipping out from Felucia, 2020 no longer felt anxious about his new assignment. Instead, that complex sense of being in the right place with his life, that feeling his training sergeant had called jatne manda began to steal over him. They were a unit now. They had a commander, and a mission.

He thought the others in the room must sense it too. Although the naval Lieutenant appeared put-out for reasons 2020 couldn't fathom, an eager light was dancing in Ensign Fora's dark eyes. Even the droid seemed pleased by the turn of events, as it erupted in another of its intense bursts of incomprehensible bleeps, whistles, and sputters.

2020 nodded once in acknowledgement of Inquisitor Cia's plan, and tried to envision the needs they would have as they made their assault on the ship's crew at the docking platform.

"We'll require intel on the company's security and the size of the crew, as well as our target ship's capabilities. I'm your man for recon, my Lord. Assuming that any of the ships from Arden or Bakur will be targeted by the pirates, given a choice between vessels I'd prefer we take one with a bit of extra speed - if the Op goes shu'shuk we might be able to hoof it rather than getting stuck planet-side. If we hit their ship-to-shore communications before we attempt to take the freighter, even if we do have to retreat off-world with it, they won't be able to inform our pirates. Our mission could still be a go."

[Saulk]

((I'm sorry, I had something of a synapse failure and forgot that the "assumed language sharing" amongst the party is an Edge of the Empire thing, not a Saga thing. If permitted, I'd like to retcon that I do use my vocabulator for all but the first comments KL-03 gave. Sorry!))

[Greymane]

Lord Velorus watches the process of deciding a leader with some interest, and nods approvingly at the final choice. His lips curl into a smirk once again as Cia whips her lightsaber out. Durrane, however, forces a neutral expression and quickly returns a proper salute to the Chiss woman. Upon hearing the translation for what the astromech said, the lieutenant pinches his face in irritation, and casts that look first at the droid, and then at the young ensign. He reiterates, however, and addresses Cia. "My lord, the droid had a suggestion. It said 'If there is involvement from Imperial forces, then we must assume our protocols are now an open book. Behaving according to those protocols is suicidal. Success depends on subverting protocol. We must not do anything that is expected.'"

The senior inquisitor speaks again, a familiar tone of frustration showing once again. "Intelligence isn't what I would like on planet-side security for these companies." He pauses and allows his tone to become more neutral. "It is not Imperial, and therefore not as well guarded or equipped as any ship security we are used to. There are no AA guns to deal with rogue aircraft, and the security personnel themselves are not armed with anything grander than standard DL-18 blasters and stun grenades."

We've been going a little while now with you just using binary Saulk. You can start using the Vocabulator now if you like, but I'm not comfortable retconning everything.

[Dent-2020]

Involvement of Imperial Forces?

2020 felt his stomach drop uncomfortably. In a moment, the briefing, the mission, had just wandered out of his realm of expertise and well into the next field - where, as the saying went, there be monsters.

Monsters he couldn't even imagine. Demagolka. Those who would betray their brothers, and their cause. Those who would betray the Empire.

"Traitors? But... nobody would be stupid enough to do that... Would they?"He asked quietly, turning first to Lord Cia, and then to Lord Velorus, with a childlike hesitancy that was a stark contrast to the man he had appeared to be only moments before.

Training got you through a lot of things, but stark surprise had a way of short-circuiting his finer functions and dropping him right back into the mind of a 13 year old boy who'd never known anything but the loyalty of an infantry company and the pure certainty of an Empire that stretched from one side of the known galaxy to the other.

[Henry the 57th]

Cia's mouth twitched slightly as the subject of traitors was brought up. "There are indeed such treasonous dogs." she said to the clone, "Who, out of greed or idiotically misplaced idealism, would stray from the Empire's fold. Much of my role is to root out such traitorous scum," Cia's lightsaber flew off her belt on its own, landing in her open hand and igniting itself. "And eliminate them."

The Inquisitor held the crimson blade where it was for several moments before slowly deactivating it and returning the hilt to her belt. She regarded the small droid with a curious expression. "Elaborate. What is your suggestion? And use Basic, I know you must be able to."

[Greymane]

Velorus arched single eyebrow at the change of subject, then turned to regard 2020. "Traitors?" He says with a scoff. "I understand this will be your first mission, and that your comrades in this group are... colorful, compared to what's normal, but I wouldn't suggest you let the young ensign's..." he turns a calculating expression to Kei. "...enthusiasm..." turning back to the clone, "color the mission. Unless I've been thoroughly led astray in the mission briefing I was given, we should not be dealing with any traitors or spies."

He sighs, and then shakes his head. "But Inquisitor Cia is correct. There are indeed traitors, but they are rare, and typically snuffed out before they can cause any real harm."

[Saulk]

There is a brief annoyed blurp from the droid before the vocabulator "switches on", so to speak. There is little inflection to the voice, having none of the characteristic "life" of an astromech droid, but a decidedly feminine (or at least, what the programmers meant to sound feminine) voice. The first sound that was heard through it was an audible sigh.

"So imprecise. Very well. I was merely suggesting that if imperial assets have gone missing and been stolen, then there must be someone providing information as to imperial procedures. I am aware the pirates are intercepting manufactured goods, but those manufactured goods are according to Imperial specifications, and they would know what our security procedures must be like. However, let me reiterate that I am perfectly capable of seizing a vessel in flight, as long as the ship we are on at the time is equipped with a point to point transmitter. It would be difficult to handle much of the data I need to fake via the HoloNet. Once the ship is friendly to my persuasion, not only can we temporarily shut off life support causing unconsciousness in the crew...at which point your 'techniques' may be used upon the pirates, but I can go through the ship's records at leisure."

[Dent-2020]

As rebukes went, Lord Velorus' casual dismissal was a heck of a lot kinder than anything 2020's training sergeants had led him to expect from officers, but he took it for what it was, nevertheless - an order to refocus, and a reminder that he need not concern himself with the state of the Empire. Such matters belonged to brighter stars than his.

Reading, loud and clear.

He tried to push his worries to the back of his mind; he doubted Lord Velorus would be so tolerant of a second interruption. He would deal with them later. Probably much later. For now, he had a job to do, and the astromech droid was doing something that required all of his attention.

It was talking. A lot of droids could do that, but he hadn't seen the feat from an astromech droid before - he hadn't realized they were capable. That was distracting enough. And what it was saying was riveting. It - she, he corrected himself, listening intently to the faintly feminine monotone - could take the transport ship without the need to fire a single shot.

Spiffy. I might not die today after all.

That always made him feel better.

[Redshaw]

Kei felt sweat bead his brow and his cheeks tingle as humility burns itself red across his face at the master Inquisitor's criticism. He resists the urge to tug at the collar of his uniform once more as the sense of stuffiness and constraint returns.

He keeps his attention focused as the droid suggests its plans in detail and it dawns on him that, talented as the little droid might be, unless it has developed technology beyond that of the Imperial standards. "She" would not be able to disable any ship wirelessly so long as its shields were intact. At least, not from the outside.

It is from this understanding that another idea is hatched within the young ensign's calculating mind. An idea he feels will not be sacrificed to his lieutenant, regardless of the consequences. An idea worthy of a captain, perhaps even a moff. He clears his throat and speaks aloud, once more drawing attention to himself.

Swallowing away the dryness of his throat, he can only pray that Cia will be as forgiving of his outspokenness this time as she was the last time.

"If my lord will entertain my outburst once more, I would point out that it is impossible to interact with another ship's core programming from its exterior so long as its shields remain functioning. I might suggest we find a way to smuggle this clever astromech aboard a ship planetside, alone. Once out of orbit, it may enact its plan from the ship's interior, disable it, and make it ripe for interception by the rest of the fine company gathered here."

The ensign's liberty for extravertedness was bordering on contemptuous now, by Navy standards; but Kei was not a man afraid to take necessary risks. Within reason, he would rather fail than fall into obscurity.

[Greymane]

The Lieutenant looked towards Kei; Durrane's fuming could no longer be contained. "Look here, ensign." he steps in front of the young man. "That is quite enough out of you. You've disrespected your betters not only once, but twice, and I won't have it." His face contorts and scrunches into intense anger and his face begins to turn a light shade of scarlet. "I promise you will be disciplined properly for this abhorrent insubordination, Ensign Fora." Durrane then glares into Kei's face until he's properly cowed.

Velorus, uninterested in the display, continues the conversation unabated. "Now there's another idea." He turns to Cia. "You have options, now. You need only select an approach and the mission can be underway. I might also suggest you appoint an XO." He gives his fellow inquisitor a leveled look. "In case the unspeakable should happen." He smiles dryly.

[Redshaw]

The ensign puts on the appearance of a subordinate officer whom has been sufficiently cowed, his eyes lowering to the floor and taking an even further step back towards the wall of the room. Inwardly, however, he is quite pleased with himself; he was nervous about suggesting the risky plan, but now that it has left his lungs to enter the minds of others gathered in the room, he is confident it is the best of all possible options. This feeling of elation and self-satisfaction was most certainly worth the punishment that was ensured to follow this briefing.

Again, the ensign is forced to keep himself quiet when the opportunity for command shows itself again, as Velorus suggests the appointment of an XO. Damn his rank and damn Durrane!

But then, as they'll do, another idea weaves itself in Kei's calculating mind. A political play should be made here. He steps forward, yet again, not to address the group, but his senior officer. He speaks quietly in the man's ear with all the subordination and supplication that is proper in addressing the lieutenant.

"Sir. Forgive my impertinence. There are no excuses. But, might I suggest that you volunteer yourself for position as an executive officer? You are most fit to lead, in the case of an emergency and have the most experience with command. This group of misfits needs your example, sir."

Kei knew that Durrane would be hesitant to volunteer himself for command; he was a nervous leader and did not handle pressure with grace. He could be supplicated by appealing to his vanity, however, and the lieutenant did like wearing medals. Most importantly, if the lieutenant was second-in-command, that would place himself third in line. And while that was less than preferable, it would at least mean he was in line.

Persuasion check to convince Durrane that volunteering himself to be XO is a good idea.

[roll0]

[Dent-2020]

2020 stood silently as the Naval Lieutenant rounded on his junior officer, and what had previously only been a vague unease toward the man shored up into a firm dislike.

Ori'buyce, kih'kovid. All Helmet, no head.

It was what Drill Sergeant Li'itan used to say of anyone with an overdeveloped sense of authority, and it fit. Was he really berating the Ensign in the briefing room for providing a plan that might allow their mission to succeed? A plan that Inquisitor Velorus seemed to like?

2020 had met some hard cases before; some of them were decent officers, once you got past the fact that you wanted to kill them almost as much as you wanted to kill the enemy. Sometimes officers were hard on you because they needed you to be hard yourself. Some, however, seemed simply to have seen too many war holos, and thought they needed to yell all the time. That rarely boded well.

He would have been glad to be wearing his helmet when the subject of an XO came up; his bucket would have meant he didn't need to work so hard to contain his grimace. After Lord Cia, the Lieutenant was the highest ranking officer in the room.

They're playing all the hits today.

[Greymane]

Durrane arches a brow at his subordinate officer, his expression scrunching up once more. This time, however, his face was not angry, but thoughtful. His beady eyes and clever face was reminiscent of a womp rat with a plan. He utters under his breath to Kei. "Sometimes, Ensign, you actually act as though you weren't kicked in the head by a bantha at birth." The lieutenant clears his throat, and speaks aloud. "My lords, I would be happy to volunteer my services as XO. The ensign is not only beneath a proper rank, but not officially part of this mission. The... clone... is a soldier, not an officer, not fit to lead. And finally, the droid may have cold, ruthless logic at its command, but a piece of equipment such as it lacks the capability of earning men's trust and cannot..." He pauses briefly to accentuate the next word by bringing his right hand in front of him and quickly closing it into a fist. "Inspire." Durrane looks at Inquisitor Cia expectantly, with a hint of hope gleaming in his eyes.

[Henry the 57th]

Cia tilts her head at the little droid as she elaborates on her plan. She listens in silent contemplation as the lieutenant and ensign get into their squabble. She has to make an effort not to chuckle at the comical sight. What to do about those two? she wonders half-heartedly. If they're going to keep this dance up the whole mission it might be worth executing them both now rather than put up with the potential distraction. Cia mulls the thought over for some time before putting it aside.

The Inquisitor clears her throat loudly for attention. She addresses the droid first. "While your plan is certainly unorthodox, I feel I must call into question it's feasibility. I find the idea of taking the ship on the planet by smuggling you on board, to be more appealing. Do you feel confident in your ability to do such a thing? And as to the issue of an XO..." she allows the moment to linger before continuing, "I do agree that Lieutenant Durrane seems the most logical choice."

[Greymane]

Lieutenant Durrane's eyes light up with barely-contained glee. "Thank you, my lord. You will not regret your decision!" He quickly brings his hand up in a salute.

Velorus, however, watches the display with a great deal of disinterest. He looks at each assembled member for a moment, and then speaks directly to Inquisitor Cia. "Excellent. Then if the plan is to go to the planet, we have a transport docked in the landing bay. You'll..." he shakes his head. "You'll know it when you see it. Make sure you're all assembled there within thirty minutes, and we can leave for Bakura." The senior inquisitor walks to the door, and it opens automatically when he comes within close proximity. He stops, and then turns around to face everyone once again. "I'm certain I don't have to say this..." his eyes linger dangerously on his lessers. "But do not speak of your mission to anyone. Not even to the captain or any other superiors, unless it comes directly from Intelligence. Doing so would have..." He clenches his right hand in a fist that hangs at his side and adds a throaty emphasis to his next word. "Dire consequences." He remains for a moment longer, waiting to see if any others address him, and then he leaves the briefing room, the door automatically closing behind him.

[Saulk]

The droid spoke once more, using the vocabulator. "I am more than capable of taking control of a ship once smuggled aboard it. I would suggest that we devote a small portion of time to finding a ship that carries a standard R2 unit. Many do so, but it would not be well for us to steal one upon which an Astromech would be foreign. The droid would need to be removed, at which point I can have my exterior paint changed to match it. Then I will be able to infiltrate the ship seamlessly. Once aboard, there will be a matter of minutes until I am capable of commandeering the ship."

[Redshaw]

The ensign frowns slightly at the choke order; it was in his humble opinion that no secrets should exist between a ship and her captain, even those kept only by omission. But his protest wasn't staunch enough to give it voice; not in the face of Velorus the Inquisitor.

With the interview's conclusion, dread begins settling inside Kei and everything feels rather heavy. There would be a reckoning with Durrane.

Still, the lieutenant's anger would be sated; it was a small price to pay for getting his foot in the proverbial door to success. A plan was in motion: his plan. The lieutenant was the XO, which meant that he was next in line. The soldier did not seem unfriendly. The Inquisitor "marked" him, which could either be for good or ill, though the optimist in him leaned toward the former. All in all, a success for the ensign in the aspect of small party politics.

His hands squeezed each other behind is back in a private exultation of success and he refocused on the business at hand, listening to the gathered as they hashed out the details of their course of action. He dared not offer more publicly; he recognized when Durrane's short temper was pushed to its limit and he had already damn near crossed the line.

[Dent-2020]

2020 watched Lord Velorus’ departure, then sharply saluted Lord Cia and took his leave. 30 minutes was a short enough time to prepare for a mission without rehashing the details.

When he had come aboard the Guardian three days ago, the crewman that met him at intake had been unable to find any record of where he belonged on the ship – extremely troubling at the time, but unsurprising to him now that he understood his purpose here. Beleaguered and faced with the undeniable truth of 2020’s holorecorded orders to report on-board, he had assigned 2020 to K-company – a group of Imperial Marines led by one captain Caranda who were quartered midway along the ship on the third level. He headed that way now to retrieve his gear.

The guys in Korrak Company weren’t a bad lot, but he doubted they’d be upset to lose him; no one had known what to do about a seventeenth sergeant showing up in a company that only had sixteen platoons, and Caranda had been pushing, unsuccessfully, to transfer him with every other company on the ship ever since 2020 dared first report to him.

Nevertheless, it had been nice to be a part of a functioning unit again - so unlike the unwanted hodgepodge of enlisted and spaarti-clones he had come to lead on Felucia - and there was a part of him that was upset to be leaving it for another group of strangers. And such strangers!

Still, it'll be good to no longer be the gizka in the platoon. Caranda will be pleased.

He made it back to his bunkroom shortly, his head still buzzing from the briefing. The mission was a secret even from the ship’s captain, and would need to be executed covertly if it had any chance of success, yet he – from his armor to his face – was as linked to the Empire in the minds of the civilian populace as he would have been if he had the Imperial sigil tattooed across his cheeks. He’d need to find a way to blend in, and that worried him; it wasn’t something he had ever needed to do before. It wasn’t even something he was sure he could do.

The shameful thing of it was, he realized with an unpleasant moment of self-revelation, that he was less concerned with the mission’s outcome than he was with not giving Lieutenant Durrane the satisfaction of having caused it to fail.

He slammed open his footlocker with a little too much force – a final concession to a bitter frustration he had fought not to vent in the briefing.

Lieutenant Durrane. The man had a problem with clones. He was subtler about it than some others 2020 had encountered, but his dismissive attitude had been telling enough. The Lieutenant’s sneering countenance swam before him as his eyes swept over the folded assembly of his E-11, checking for defects on autopilot.

The... clone... is a soldier, not an officer, not fit to lead.

I’d like to lead you into an Aiwha pod… 2020 thought nastily.

The brief moment of anger was all he would allow himself. Grow up. You have a job to do.

He scooped an untidy deck of Sabaac cards off his bunk and tossed them to Crashdown, three bunks over. “Get your stack off my rack, you tit!”

“Sore loser,” Crash muttered.

Boomer looked up curiously from the bunk below him. “Hey Felucia, what’d they want you for?”

Pirate hunt with two of the Inquisitorius and a right sheb from the Navy, 2020 thought, but checked himself before he let the words slip. He doubted very much that he would enjoy learning what category of consequence earned the term dire in Lord Velorus’ neatly-ordered universe.

“They finally figured out what they meant to do with me.” He said instead, checking his power packs distractedly before he shoved them in his bag. “I won’t be underfoot anymore – I’m shipping out again.” He brought his finger to his lips – the tactical hand signal for silence that even the Spaarti cylinder clones in the room would have been flash-trained to recognize. He hoped they would take it in the way he meant it; I’m under a gag order.

One of his fellow Sergeants whistled from across the room. “Yeesh. All the fun jobs are wasted on the young.”

“I’m sure they’d have asked you, Deuce, but doubtless they’re tired of your ugly buy’ce.” He countered.

“Maybe I could fatten your lip then, and get you out of it, Ad’eta?”

2020 took the ribbing good-naturedly. “Kind offer, Deuce.”

He ran his hands through his regulation hair with some worry. “Actually, I might need to take you up on that; I could do with looking… less like myself.” He said, lightly hopping back down from his bunk. “Out of uniform, even.”

Deuce chuckled and stepped away from a game of cu’bikad he was playing with a group of new guys in the corner. “The detention level might have some things that could help you out with that. Confiscated kit, and the like. That’s where I’d go, if I needed to look less like me. Or you.” His eyes flicked across the bunkroom, “Or Boomer. Or Pi. Or Crash…” He smirked at 2020’s exasperated look. "You might find some ugly civvie bucket to hide your head under. Or..." He reached out and pushed the short fringe of 2020’s hair over his brow with a mischievous look. “What do you think of the color Green?”

[Redshaw]

Kei waits patiently for the lieutenant to depart from the briefing room. When Durrane sees fit to take his leave, both he and Kei pause in front of Cia to offer their salutes, before self-extricating, their boot heels clicking in time loudly against the star ship's floors.

The ensign shadows his lieutenant, the superior officer not speaking a word. For a few moments, Kei hopefully wonders if he was being left off the hook; after all, it was his suggestion that secured the lieutenant his new "field promotion." Perhaps Durrane was feeling generous. And then, of course, where they should have turned left toward the officer dorms, they turned right, towards engineering, and Kei's heart sank as deeply as it could. Goose bumps pebbled the back of his neck as Durrane led into the bowels of the ship, away from the eyes of the Inquisitor, the officers, the marines. Kei was being led to the slaughtering grounds and he knew it.

Ensign Liara Iroquois of the Stalwart.

My dearest friend.

Kei doubled over as the lieutenant’s meaty fist bowled into his stomach, forcing an explosion of air, saliva and mucus from his mouth. The wind, and more, knocked out of him, he fell to the cold, hard floor of the star ship, offering little resistance against Durrane’s rage. It was not his first beating; Carida had taken that honor. But this did not take away the rawness of the attack. It is true that the ensign had acted unprofessionally, but this was not for Kei’s betterment; it was for the lieutenant’s self-satisfaction.

I hope this letter finds you as well as it leaves me. I am learning much under Lieutenant Durrane’s instruction; the nuances of commanding a ship with a compliment of 2000 souls is as rigorous as it is rewarding. I cannot think of a place I’d rather be, besides in your refined company.

Curled on the ground, Kei focused all his efforts into not crying in pain as Durrane repeatedly kicked him. He instead poured his considerable willpower into a memory he found relaxing: a Christophsian friend. One kick, to the stomach, forces gut contents from his mouth onto the floor, immediately filling the air with an acrid stench; her skin, the color of perfectly creamed coffee. Another kick, to the solar plexus, causes him to writhe and convulse as his nervous system is overloaded with pain receptors; her hair, black as a new moon in a starlit sky. A third strike stomps his rib cage, generating immediate contusions along his flank; her knowing smile, carved like a jack knife, mischievous as a Kowakian monkey-lizard, and armed with pearly teeth. In a fourth and final blow, Durrane’s boot crunches a rib beneath its heel; her eyes, blue as the shining sapphire crystals native only to her home planet.

The security protocols set in place for our mutual rank of course forbid us from imparting the intimate details of our respective tour assignments, but I feel there is little risk in telling you that I have finally reached a star as far from Coruscant as reasonably possible. I hope you have found a way to your dreams made manifest as well.

Even with the punishment finished, Kei was not eager to return to his feet. His world was pain and little else; he did not notice as his superior officer stepped over his body to leave. He took several moments to relearn how to breathe properly; it took even longer to remember how his limbs worked. He rolled onto his front first and then slowly, very slowly, came to stand.

It may be some time before I can write you again. The nature of my latest assignment is as curious as it is confidential. I will share this much: an opportunity for advancement has revealed itself and I do not intend to allow the opportunity to slip away; I know you would never forgive me if I did. I cannot wait to tell you everything about it over our next shared shore leave.

Pride allowed Kei to return to his quarters with a minimal amount of limping or loss of upright posture, though his pained grimace was difficult to disguise. Pride also dissuaded him from taking a detour to the medic bay; every action made in this life came with a predictable and unavoidable consequence. He would not cheapen the lesson learned from today’s experience by lessening the acuteness of Lieutenant Durrane’s education.

Ever yours,

Ensign Kei Fora of the Guardian.

Breathing was going to be difficult for the next few days: the price of risk and investment. Very educational indeed.

I plotted this post out with the DM. No taking over NPC's here.

3 damage dealt.

Kei's berth was small and, graciously, empty for the moment. He understandably winced in pain as he sat on his bunk. Lifting his uniform to inspect the damage done revealed few surprises: purple contusions and rapid swelling. Nothing permanent. It would be awhile before that rib healed, though. At least Durrane’s boots were too clean to dirty the ensign’s uniform; it wouldn't be difficult to hide.

Retrieving his datapad, the ensign began uploading reading material and search protocols that might occupy him in the downtime between the droid's smuggling and the target's pick-up. An Imperial security-coded copy of 'A People's History of Chiss Ascendancy and the Ruling Families' should keep his mind focused on something besides the pain and hopefully arm him with knowledge of his new superior's background; he didn't know specifically where the Chiss Inquisitor was from, but this book was a start. Of course, he would not go far without a copy of Adar Tallon's 'Treatise on Starfighter Tactics' (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Starfighter_combat), an Imperial issue. He knew the material inside and out, all the way down to his very marrow, but keeping it on hand was a habit that no officer would consider anything besides healthy. Working blueprints of the starfighter engine he'd been designing for the last several months in his free time. Finally, a search protocol placed to sweep the dregs of the holonet for any noble families, company names, or clan dynasties baring the name 'Velorus.'

A Gather Information check on any noteworthy companies or families to be found on the holo-net with the name Velorus

[roll0]

Hopefully the broad search would turn up at least a few results. He'd review them later.

Satisfied with the letter to the Christophsian ensign of the Stalwart, he sends it and sets aside the datapad. Finally, mercifully, he leans back in his bed and allows his eyes to close; there was still a small amount of time left before he'd have to rendezvous in the hanger. Just a few moments to rest his eyes was all he needed...

[Saulk]

KL-03 wheeled out of the room, finding the nearest dataport and plugging in. There she would remain until any other actions interrupted her, or she needed to recharge her batteries, whichever came first. She calculated the things she would need and began searching for them in rapid succession, as rapidly a droid of her type could, speaking in pure binary to the computer. She needed to find all she could on the pirates, all she could on the types of droids they might hold as well as common colour schemes, their armaments, their make and models of computers - or at least those that would be available to them, and the schematics of all of the ships that had ever been known pirate vessels. Even if it was not one of the ones their target used, enough data could always lead to the availability of drawing a conclusion. All of these she stored away into her memory banks. At an earlier point in her existence, those storage spaces had been astrogation buffers. Not anymore. She had reprogrammed them. She gave herself pause to think about that time aboard the doomed Star Destroyer. How many of these organics she was with could boast completing brain surgery on themselves while conscious, and being successful? That was, in essence, what she had done. She also drew up a map towards the part of the ship that sported the largest collection of mechanics. These would help her redesign herself into something that would pass for a pirate droid.

Actions
Speaking in Binary to the Computer - Computer Related tasks are done twice as fast
Use Computer - I am doing all searches using ship's records and HoloNet. My Scomp Link gives me +1 to this roll - [roll0]

[Henry the 57th]

Inquisitor Cia listened to the droid's statements patiently before nodding her head. "I agree that we should at least make the attempt to secure such a ship, if it can be found." she said, soon after the astromech ceased speaking. When Inquisitor Velorus spoke up next, she continued her neutral expression and simply waited until he stopped and left the room. Meeting adjourned, I suppose. she thought, a hint of anger at being so casually dismissed welling up inside her. Her lightsaber seemed to itch, bidding her to take it up and strike down that which offended her... She glanced down at the weapon fondly for a moment, her right hand giving the slightest twitch. Reluctantly, she forced the feeling down. Not yet.

Instead, she nodded formally and said in a crisp, clear voice. "Meeting dismissed. Prepare for our departure in whatever ways best suit your needs. I shall see you in the landing bay." Cia herself simply stood with her arms folded behind her back, waiting patiently. Her red eyes followed the others as they leave, scrutinizing them with the air of a farmer judging her livestock. When the last of the other team members had taken their leave of the room, the Chiss woman followed them out the automatic door.

Her pace quickened as she left the others behind, glossy jackboots gliding swiftly over the ship's grey metallic floor. Cia allowed no one to stand between her and her isolated quarters, her aura of menace inspiring even the thickest and most biased of Imperials to remove themselves from her path. Her living area was not well-traveled, few wanting to be near an "alien witch", as some had called her. She opened the door from a distance, stretching invisible fingers out to enter her numeric sequence into the keypad, and strode into the ill-lit room without pause, the door sliding shut behind her.

By choice, Cia's room was dark, only with only thin, red emergency lighting to illuminate the boxy space. Not that there was much to see - her quarters was Spartan and devoid of luxuries. Such things were anathema to the Chiss Ascendency, and certain habits carried over to Cia's new life. The darkness of the place discomfited the human crew of the ship, she knew, but her alien vision pierced the gloom without issue. This gave her a certain edge in any conversation that took place in there. The Inquisitorius taught its members to take advantage of every psychological weakness that existed.

The Inquisitor closed her eyes for a moment, summoning the feelings she'd repressed: rage, hatred, contempt, jealousy... the dark side fed off such things. She shrugged her shoulders and her black robe came off. The garment fell, only to be seized by invisible hands before touching the floor. It wouldn't do to be messy. Cia thought with a slight smirk. Her robe folded itself into a neat square and floated gently to her bed. She sat the clothing down and gave a satisfied smile before continuing. Her datapad detached itself from her belt and floated in front of her face. She made a few notes, set the thing aside, and began.

Thin blue fingers reached down to touch cold metal. The lightsaber seemed almost a living thing to Cia, always urging her onwards. Urging her to soak it in the blood of her enemies. She wondered at times if the thing had some kind of primitive spirit of its own... the dark side was a path to many things, some considered to be "unnatural". She watched in fascination as her crimson blade sprang to life once again. The blade became a blur as she fell into well-drilled forms, lightsaber stabbing and slicing in moves designed for quick, elegant kills. She was too small, too light of frame for the more strength-oriented styles, her instructors had told her. Instead, she had studied pieces of Form II, Makashi. Designed to kill quickly, efficiently, and with finesse, it suited the Chiss Inquisitor's build. The unusual curved hilt of her saber enhanced the effect and made her moves more unpredictable.

Minutes passed as Cia went through her lightsaber drills again and again. A thin layer of sweat trickled down her face as she stabbed, dodged, hacked, parried, and dismembered imaginary enemies, each bearing the faces of someone who had offended or annoyed her. She let her hatred build with each cut, parry, and kick, feeling the Force guide her body. Her saber flashed so quickly it appeared to be in several places at once as she danced her brutal, elegant dance.

All too soon, an irritating wail filled the room, snapping Cia out of her reverie. She glared irritatedly at the source, though her datapad was only doing as she herself had instructed it to do. With a sigh, she telekinetically deactivated the alarm. Time to get ready. she thought sadly. Cia allowed herself to stare into her red saber for a moment more, gazing into its crimson depths. It called out to her, promising an eternity of passion and bloodshed, if only she would yield her will to it. After another second, the moment passed and Cia shook her head, deactivating the thing.

She returned the saber to her belt before taking the time to wash the sweat away in the refresher and change into a fresh set of black clothes. She grabbed what could easily be any generic, unmarked, metallic carrying case and packed swiftly. Nothing fancy, simply changes of clothes, including more tunics, pants, robes, and boots, along with alternate civilian outfits. Before leaving, Cia made certain to check her utility belt for all her supplies. Confirming they were where they should be, she set off to the docking bay at a brisk pace, arriving comfortably on time.

[Dent-2020]

2020 strode self-consciously across the hangar bay to where he could see Lord Cia standing by what was, presumably, their ship. He tried to ignore the curious eyes that stopped and followed him the entire way.

Civilian kit, he had decided, was awful, no matter how much fun it looked.

The detention level had yielded a number of so-called treasures to him, just as Deuce had suggested. He had forgone his black bodysuit and white armor plating in favor of a uniform as unremarkably civilian as he could find. He had chosen a pair of sturdy-soled brown nerf-hide boots that ended at mid-calf, loosely fitting dark blue cloth trousers with what appeared to be several extremely useful pockets, a grey long sleeved shirt that buttoned of all things, a lightly-armored blue vest that didn't quite match the pants in color, and a truly ugly silver helmet whose owner, he suspected, might have died wearing it.

He was thoroughly uncomfortable. The clothing seemed designed to cause one to overheat and to freeze at the same time, with none of the regulating effects of the bodysuit he had worn nearly all his life. The armored vest was at once bulky, unexpectedly heavy, and woefully inadequate. All 2020 could think of were all the places on his body that it didn't cover - places on his body that he rather preferred having intact. The helmet he had chosen was a full-face cover pitted and scored by blaster fire, rounded in shape, with a visor that vaguely reminded him of mandalorian jai'galaar, screech-hawk, eyes. The distinct lack of HUD display or even comm systems made him feel completely blind, even though it had by far the best visibility of any of the helmets he had had to choose from. Finally, he had strung out his power packs and other essentials on a silver bandolier fastened across his chest, and his E-11 was slung over his shoulder on a piece of black webbing.

He would not die for lack of a proper weapon in easy reach. He refused.

When he reached the ship, he stopped and saluted, then hesitantly removed his helmet. There was, apparently, a war veteran stationed on board with Silooth Company who had been only too amused to provide Deuce with a set of pigment-altering dyes that the Stormtrooper Corps had declared against regs after the dissolution of the GAR.

The blue iris dye had stung and made 2020's eyes water at first, but now he hardly noticed it. He even liked the look of them, just a bit. The hair - dark green and mussed in a way that suggested the owner lacked familiarity with the concept of a comb, on the other hand, might have been too much.

Still, if he allowed his beard to grow in, he thought he couldn't possibly look less like Jango Fett.

[Greymane]

http://img509.imageshack.us/img509/7307/venatorhangar8hc.jpg

There were always just enough people around in any given area of the ship for it to not feel empty. But only just barely. The Guardian was woefully understaffed, its total occupants numbering close to two thousand- still the number for a small town. It rarely felt that way.

The hangar bay was long and narrow, with the center section's roof closed, keeping it safe from the vacuum beyond it. One could see just over five hundred meters from one end of the hangar to the other, in stark contrast to other, more enclosed, Star Destroyer models. This was obviously designed to be a craft that carries starfighters. The powered shielding for the individual hangar bays were not on, showing the ship's full compliment of fighters in plain sight. The vast majority visible were V-19 Torrents, their folding s-foils locked in a vertical position while landed, alongside equally as many Eta-2 Actis-class light interceptors. Neither of which bore much resemblance to the Empire's most prolific starfighter, the TIE Fighter, of which there was no sign of in this hangar. Noteworthy, however, was that not all of the fighters looked in prime condition. The majority of which had access panels open, power cables strewn about, and parts such as engines and weapons set aside, and outright missing in some. The odd mechanic could be seen performing maintenance on some of these, but others seem to have been in such a position for an extended period of time.

The largest eyesore, however, was the medium-transport ship that you found yourselves gathering around. It was asymmetrical, with the front bridge of the ship on the starboard side. The peculiar thing about it, however, was the enormous cargo container attached to its port side. Easily half of the ship's size could be contributed to it. This was a Wayfarer-class medium transport (http://img3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20080602041246/starwars/images/0/04/TheRevenge_1.jpg).

Lord Velorus stood pacing near the loading ramp of the ship, casting a critical eye to every square meter of the craft. His gaze also turns to a nearby female mechanic intermittently, who is working on a LAAT/i Gunship, as if inspecting her or her work. He ceases his meandering pace as soon as you begin arriving. His eyes almost immediately turn to 2020, taking in his full appearance from top to bottom, lingering on his green hair. "Congratulations are in order, Sergeant. Not only was I unaware of the existence of a swoop gang on this ship, but you have earned their trust and joined their ranks in a scant half hour." He makes no motion to smile, and no laughter escapes his lips. He then turns his attention to Inquisitor Cia, whom he only acknowledges with the nod of his head. His smirk is gone, and the motion very nearly borders on respectful in its tone.

Lieutenant Tarrick Durrane arrives, with the young Ensign Kei Fora in tow. The Lieutenant is wearing his uniform still, though he does have a metallic carrying case in hand. He salutes first to Velorus, and then does so to Cia, and offers an aghast expression to Dent. "I realize you clones yearn for some individuality, but you look like a colour-blind thug from Nar Shadaa, Sergeant."

Velorus speaks again. "A little early. Impeccable timing." he breathes in, and sighs, tossing a glance toward the ship they had gathered by. "This is our transport. Its previous mission was a failure, it's slow, and the secondary weapon system recently stopped functioning. All of these things added up has caused me to name it Worthless, but feel free to come up with something different. Moreso demeaning at your discretion." He shakes his head with a scowl. "If everyone is prepared, we can get underway as soon as the droid arrives."

[Saulk]

Almost as if on cue, KL-03 arrives. The black gloss and imperial insignia have been removed, and her now colours - standard blue and white - are scuffed and weathered. She has gone from Imperial droid to back-alley relic in a matter of hours. The crowning achievement, though, was a fake faulty wire sparking near her dome, which would account for her model being present on a pirate ship. Damaged goods. She beeped and whistled an affirmative, positive sound, acclimating herself to her persona.

[Dent-2020]

2020 ran a hand self-consciously through his hair and tried not to look as deflated as he felt. He couldn't tell if Lord Velorus was genuinely congratulating him or not; his words seemed approving, but they were at odds with his body language - which tended to hold closer to true sentiment. The disappointment felt like a punch to the gut, and he was instantly frustrated with himself.

The cloners on Kamino had tampered with Jango Fett's genetics well beyond mere accelerated aging to make it a better template for a soldier; they had reduced his tendency for independence and unpredictability, making him more tractable and disciplined. The changes manifested themselves in the cloned soldiers as a need for camaraderie and an insistent desire for approbation. It was a reward system strong enough to motivate them to die for a cause that wasn't theirs; to work tirelessly, without pay, without comfort, without choice, and without even knowing what would be done with them when they were too old to fight.

The approval of his superiors could make him feel as safe and comfortable as a small child being put to bed at night. Anything else felt like floating in space without a tether.

"I...A bit of urban camouflage seemed expedient, My Lord." He said, turning to gauge Lord Cia's reaction. She had said to prepare for departure as each of them saw fit.

Lieutenant Durrane's sneer was easier handle; 2020 had never expected to please him. He marshaled himself and pasted on what he hoped appeared to be a pleased grin.

"Thank you, Sir. Colour-blind thug was what I was going for."

[Henry the 57th]

Cia returned Inquisitor Velorus' nod politely before settling into position to stand and wait for the others. Thankfully, she did not have to wait long. Lieutenant, Ensign," she nodded to each of them as they entered. "May I ask why you've chosen to remain openly in Imperial uniforms? I hope for your sakes that you've brought civilian outfits as well, or this could be difficult."

When 2020 came in, the Chiss woman had to hold herself silent for a moment to avoid bursting out laughing. He looks like some kind of demented clown.Instead, she contented herself with a raised eyebrow. "While your dedication to maintaining your disguise is commendable, Sergeant, I believe that the green hair is a touch out of place. May I remind you that the point of this is to make us less conspicuous, not more? Bakura is not Nar Shaddaa or the Coruscant underworld. Something more natural, such as blonde or brown, would be a better choice. If you require hair die, I do have some." Cia pats the small box she is carrying.

When the newly reprinted astromech joined the group a moment later, Cia gave a satisfied nod. "Good, we're all here. Assuming you all have the things I've mentioned, then I suggest we get to it." She gestures towards the ship.

[Redshaw]

Kei keeps several steps behind the lieutenant, also still in uniform, however he carries metal luggage case in his left hand. A creature of observation, his eyes meander across the gathered, he pauses at both the droid and the clone. He notices that the boys in engineering truly outdid themselves in the recreation of a faulty R2; maybe this plan would work after all.

And the clone. A shadow of a smile curled the corners of his lips as he viewed the clone; he practically wanted to applaud the man. Though he looked more like a pirate than he did a civilian, this showed to Kei that this soldier had ingenuity. No rank-and-file trooper would bother to disguise himself beyond, at best, a change in helmet structure. This proved that the man was capable of creativity, which belied imagination and intelligence; things he did not expect out of a person with Jango Fett's immortalized face. This was good.

His eyes slid from Inquisitor Cia to Velorus and he inwardly remembered the search protocol he had in place at this very moment; hopefully it would not be long before he could review the results. The identity of this assassin and understanding his background might be what saves his life and the lives of his crew down the line. At the Chiss' question, he does not volunteer a vocal answer, but he does lift his metallic case while looking in her direction, hopefully confident that Durrane did not literally have eyes in the back of his head to see his response.

Despite the mission at hand, his brown eyes are drawn toward the V-19 torrents; beautiful craft, in his opinion, a perfect blend of economical value, air-support power house and orbit-to-atmosphere transportation. It was a damn shame they were put out of service. And the Eta-2's, by all that was holy, putting them out of service was a crime against every Imperial pilot. Stronger structure than the TIE fighters, its power source a hybrid of solar-energy absorbing wing panels along with its own engine, and let us not forget actual personal shielding. And then of course... there's the Wayfarer. Kei finds his heart does a small flip-flop at the prospect of piloting such a monstrosity and double checks Velorus to silently confirm that this Big Bertha truly was supposed to be their ship.

What a hunk of junk... is his first instinct. But then, even the most beautiful creatures hatched from the ugliest eggs. Please, oh please, let this be one of those instances.

[Dent-2020]

2020 shoved his bucket down over his head and tried to refrain from asking the Chiss Inquisitor, in his most placid tone of voice, if she would have preferred he dyed his hair blue.

"It'll be under my helmet if I can help it, My Lord. If I can't help it, I'd rather reveal an image as untied to the Empire as I can get. Half the criminal element of the galaxy can probably imagine Jango Fett as a blonde, but I suspect they'll have a harder time imagining him as a young swoop bike hooligan. But if you think it wiser..." He let the comment hang.

Besides, he thought, he may not have seen the cities on Nar Shadaa or Coruscant, but he bet he knew one group of people better than any of the others assembled here - criminals. He'd heard the enlisted troopers joking about drill sergeants that had screamed at them on their first day in boot 'I am now your Mother! I am your Father!', but for 2020, that had always been the absolute truth. Until he was ten years old and deployed on active duty, the Sergeants Fett had hired to be his Cuy'val Dar - his Dead Men to train the troops - had been his entire experience of the world. Every last one of them was a criminal, and none would have spared a second glance for his mossy green hair.

Anyway, he thought, looking speculatively at the Worthless - surely they had much larger problems to worry about now. Ship-sized ones, to start. He supposed that would be the pilot's problem, not his own. 2020 doubted that he could manage to fly this rusty milk crate anywhere but to the scene of the crash. Hopefully the Naval officers were much more confident in their abilities, he thought, eyeing the two men speculatively. It didn't slip his notice that Fora seemed to be standing as far back from his Lieutenant as he could respectfully get.

Well out of arm's reach.

2020 recognized the distance, and knew he had judged it accurately; a soldier needed to be able to recognize the area of physical control that an enemy threatened. He had been making such estimations in hand-to-hand drills since he was two years old. That the Ensign seemed to have an eye for it too, and was exercising it around his superior officer was... disconcerting, to say the least.

That was going to be a problem for team cohesion.

He looked appreciatively at the sparking wire in the little astromech droid's carapace, and then followed Lord Cia into the derelict ship.

"Oya." He muttered.

Let's hunt.

[Greymane]

The lieutenant's eyes widen as he Inquisitor Cia addresses him so quickly. "My lord, I felt it would be prudent to follow regulations and remain in uniform until off the ship. At the very least, to avoid suspicion from my fellow officers and crewmen. I have brought clothing to help infiltrate civilian environs, yes." He remains blissfully unaware of the Ensign's actions, however.


The senior inquisitor waves his left hand dismissively at 2020's explanation; either because of approval or apathy, he does not mention his hair again. He then inspects the droid as it arrives, nodding simply at it. "Then we're ready." He begins walking into the transport.


The ship was rather pristine. As you enter the craft, you find yourself in a lounge area. There is a table flanked on all sides by chairs, a couch, and even a dejarik table in the south corner. Velorus makes an immediate right towards the bow of the ship, where the crew quarters and the bridge were located. The bridge, too, was rather immaculate, and was apparently designed to be manned by up to six people. "Select your quarters." spoke Velorus. "Inquisitor Cia will be taking the first mate's quarters, I will have the captain's. Those three left..." He points to the three rooms on the port side of the hallway. "Will be for the rest of you." He motions towards the bridge of the ship. "Meet me there in ten minutes. We're cleared to leave then."


Of the rest of the ship, the lounge has three doors, the port side leads to the other section of the ship, the stern-side door leads to the engine room, and the starboard door, where you entered, is the airlock. Through the port-side door leads into the aft cargo hold, where one can access the gunnery station. The hold was mostly bare, save for a few crates, and several fuel cells stacked in the south-west corner. Moving onward through the corridor next to the gunnery station, opens up into a small hangar bay. Suspended from the ceiling on a rack is a large craft, the center cockpit remeniscent of an eyeball, and connected on either side of it to two large solar-panel wings. There was a TIE Fighter docked in here. Behind it, in the vehicle garage, were two Aratech speeder bikes.

No, there are not two Headhunter starfighters in there.

http://www.mapsofmastery.com/images/galleryart/sci-fi/Wayfarer.jpg

When the ten minutes have passed, you meet again with Velorus in the bridge of the ship. He stands next to the captain's chair in the center of the room and turns an expectant gaze towards Cia. "All that's left is to contact the bridge of the Guardian, and we can get underway."

[Dent-2020]

2020 eyed the row of cabins that Lord Velorus had given over to him and the two Naval officers. He wanted the cabin on the end, nearest the airlock - if anyone, or anything, entered the ship unexpectedly, he wanted it to have to come through him first. That cabin would allow him to suppress entry at the airlock and to control both the hatch leading to the aft cargo hold as well as the alleyway that led to the bridge.

That was the cabin he would have taken if he had been back with his cadet squad at Rishi, but he had never had cause to worry about friction between his brothers. There was a far greater threat to their small unit here than any force that attempted to breach their hull, because it was already locked inside with them. Infighting could be the death of a squad. If Fora and Durrane were spending all of their time and energy on making each other miserable, what did they possibly expect to have saved for the enemy?

The decision was not one that required deliberation. A Sergeant's first duty was to his men. His role was to look after their well-being, making sure they had what they needed in order to execute their missions. Perhaps each of these officers outranked him - it didn't matter, they were his team now. 2020 hardly paused after Lord Velorus finished delivering his instructions. He casually tossed his small bag into the center cabin - he didn't have many personal effects and none of them were fragile - and turned expectantly back to the Inquisitor. "You said the gunnery station is inoperative, My Lord?"

There. Maybe he'd be able to keep the two naval officers in their separate corners for at least some of the time on this mission.

[Greymane]

Lieutenant Durrane's face contorts into anger at the audacity of 2020's actions. Just as he opens his mouth, 2020 addresses Velorus, which causes Durrane to quickly shut it again. The senior inquisitor turns around to regard the clone with a bemused expression for a split second, and then it returned to its normally dour self. "Correct. The original agents who used this ship attempted to upgrade the weapons systems, but learned too late that Sienar parts were incompatible with this craft. They rectified their mistake... poorly."

He brings his right hand up and motions towards the bridge. "The weapons station on the bridge still functions, but only utilizes a basic laser cannon. Until the systems are repaired, the quad laser cannon is offline."

The Liuetenant, suffering with barely-contained rage, marches towards the quarters closest to the airlock, and places his carrying case inside.

[Henry the 57th]

Cia quickly and efficiently unpacked her few belongings into her new chamber. Clothes, hygiene supplies, and a few sets of hair dye were put away neatly in the cramped confines of the first mate's quarters. She then set to work adjusting the lighting of the room to her liking. She switched the color to red, then reduced the level severely. With her knowledge of both kinds of eye, she calibrated the lighting to remain clearly visible to the Chiss eye, while impairing the human one. Always valuable for intimidation.

Before she headed back to the cabin to meet with Inquisitor Velorus, Cia went to pay Lieutenant Durrane a visit. "Lieutenant," she said in a formal, reserved tone. "Once we are under way, I wish to meet with you. Come to my chambers after Lord Velorus dismisses us so we can have a little chat. I've found getting to know the officers under me to be wise." She began leaving the cabin, but paused and glanced back, as if remembering something. "Oh, and come alone. It wouldn't do for the lesser members to overhear our private conversation." Cia turned and walked away without a further word, the ghost of a smile on her face.

When she returned to the bridge, the Chiss simply nodded and activated the comm channel. "This is the Wayfarer Transport to Imperial Cruiser Guardian. Requesting permission to lift off."

[Greymane]

The lieutenant showed noticable shock on on his face as Cia addressed him and made her request, but replaced it with practiced professionalism. "As you wish, my lord. I live to serve." He finishes with a crisp salute.

[Redshaw]

Kei steps tentatively into the box-shaped cruiser, eyebrows furrowed pensively. His eyes flicker up and down the corridors, mentally digesting the ship into his impressive memory as the inquisitor speaks. He is not upset by the quarters designation, though the fact that a first officer's quarters exists at all on this sort of vessel comes as a pleasant surprise; perhaps it was not the only one hidden on this ship. Surprise strikes again when the clone volunteers himself to quarter between him and the lieutenant. What is he playing at? Durrane would not like it, of that one could be assured.

He makes his way to his berth, setting down the metallic case and opening it to reveal necessary refresher ammenities, a folded set of well-tailored clothes and, held in a protective plastic zip-bag, a custom-made space suit. It was a present to him from his father after graduating academy; not to Imperial regulation, but above it, providing up to 24 hours of life support in a vacuum as well as armored plates for at least minimal protection against blaster fire. It takes a few moments to outfit himself in the armor and it fits him well; polished black with the Imperial symbol emblazoned on both shoulders and painted across the plating protecting his chest. As he finishes tightening the last of the securing belts, he nearly groans as he's reminded of the cracked rib he still sports, courtesy of the lieutenant.

Leaving the suit's glossy helmet behind, he makes to inspect the rest of the ship, clad proudly in his battle armor. He finds himself impressed with the hold's load-out, pausing briefly to overlook the fighter and speeders for any immediate red flags. Satisfied, he moves on to the out-of-order Gunnery station. Here was a project he might enjoy putting his mind towards, assuming the droid didn't do it in record time; perhaps they might aid one another toward this effort. Finally, he comes to the Bridge, offering respectful salutes to both Durrane and Cia as he passes them, coming to sit at the helm. It was an instinct to sit here; protocol usually demanded that the lowest ranking officer pilot on a transporting vessel, as it required the least amount of crew command. Recognizing the Inquisitor already begged for clearance, he powers up and begins warming the vessel's engines and converters in preparation for launch.

He quietly speaks to himself as his hands dance across the helm's panels "Let's see if you're really as Worthless as they say, shall we?" Worthless. Worthless was a bad name, especially if you held any value in pilot superstitions. She'd need another.

[Saulk]

The droid rolled up onto the bridge, alongside all of the others, switching to its vocabulator to speak to them directly. "If my presence is not needed to fly this vessel, I will begin busying myself with other tasks. I had thought to work on the gunnery systems...it seems like it might be an entertaining project for relaxation time. When we make contact, I will return to the bridge. I have already located the recharging area. Please ensure that no loss of power comes to that location. I remain available if you need assistance performing the astrogation calculations. My internal communications will suffice if you need me."

The droid rolled away as quickly as it had come, the sparking appendage jettisoning its glowing payload every few rotations. It paused at the gunnery, not ready to begin yet but taking a cursory glance to see whether it was a surmountable job or not before beginning to traverse the ship, memorizing every inch of its layout.

Actions
Mechanic roll to see if it's even worth while to try to fix the gunnery battery - [roll0]
She will then begin to go through the entire ship mapping out access points, and familiarizing herself with everything. Basically, getting into the "character" of a low class pirate drone

[Dent-2020]

2020 watched the astromech droid roll away, thankful that someone on the ship seemed competent to fix their secondary weapons. 2020 didn't know much about repairing items himself; he'd watched Sergeant Kote attempt to fix the artificial gravity unit at Rishi once after it had overloaded in a meteor shower, but the Sergeant's technique had just been to bang on it until it did what he wanted.

Honestly, that was pretty much Sergeant Kote's technique for dealing with most things, including his cadets.

He shook the memory off and followed Ensign Fora and Lord Cia onto the bridge, taking a seat at the weapons station and familiarizing himself to the controls of the laser cannon while they waited for clearance from the Guardian and for the other members of the unit to finish unpacking their belongings. Kaminoan training programs were extremely thorough, but he still thought the last time he had practiced with one of these had been in a simulated space battle when he was four. Perhaps there was a manual lying about somewhere?

Can't be too different from the laser cannons we use on the ground though, right?

He cast a sideways glance at the Ensign in his flight suit next to him. It was a good looking piece of kit - non-reg, but decorated in Imperial style with glossy armor plating on the extremities, and an environmental regulating unit over the chest that would allow the wearer to survive in total vacuum in the event of 'atmospheric pressure loss' - the catalog's expression for getting a gigantic hole ripped through your hull. Of course, that was only if you were wearing your buy'ce at the time of decompression. Fora's bucket didn't even look like it was within arm's reach.

Haar'chak. It was hard enough taking shinies into combat when I had some authority over them.

Shiny, it was, too. He wondered if the Ensign had ever had a chance to wear the suit before. He certainly looked proud of it.

"Nice rig, Sir!" He said appreciatively, imbuing his voice with genuine enthusiasm - 2020 valued good gear at a premium most lifeforms placed on food and breathable atmosphere. "Is that a TX-2?" It looked subtly different than the few TIE suits he had seen. He threw a speculating eye over it again. "Duraplast plating option and 10 hours in vacuum, right? Splash some paint over those gears on your shoulders and I bet our pirates would mistake you for one of their own." He joked. "Last I heard, the Correllians were integrating a top-shelf targeting comp. into the helmet. That true?" He settled back into the laser cannon's seat and listened to the hum of the engines as they came online in sequence. "If I had a buy'ce like that, Sir, I don't think I'd ever take it off."

[Greymane]

There is a telltale gentle hum as Kei powers the engines in standby mode. An unsure, feminine voice cracked in response to Cia's communication. "Roger, Wayfarer, you're cleared for take-off." Yellow caution lights blazed around the enormous hangar, and the individual shields around the fighter bays erupted to life. The one adjacent to your ship only flickers at first, the female mechanic there looking like she was about to panic before it turned on properly. Then the loud powered motors could be heard as the roof of the center section opened up to the dark of space beyond it. The pressure and air was quickly sucked out with a windy whoosh that lasted barely a second.

Durrane stood next to Kei, keeping an eagle eye on all of his actions at the console. "Don't forget to activate the repulsors prior to using the thrusters, ensign. You don't want to scorch the hangar." He used a patronizing tone, as though from a parent to a forgetful child. Any first year student at the naval academy knew this.

The controls were a little slow, there was a lag time of a fraction of a second, but it was noticeable. The heft of the transport ship was also nothing like piloting a fighter, as it was more than double the size of one. The young ensign is able to maneuver the ship out of the hangar and into open space with little trouble.

Velorus turns towards Cia and nods sharply at her. "It seems the mission is now in your hands. May the Force be with you." He then stands aside, and watches her expectantly.

[Henry the 57th]

The Chiss nodded. "It will be. I know it." she said in a tone of utter certainty. She strode to the captain's chair in several long, swift steps, and took her seat. "Ensign, bring us out of the gravity well, then set course for Nal Hutta," Cia held up a hand to preemptively silence any protests. "On the off chance that someone aboard the Guardian is spying, I don't want anyone to know where we've gone. Nal Hutta seems a plausible enough destination for a pair of Inquisitors. Make a micro-jump in that direction, then a few more in whichever way you desire. Then set your course for Bakura." Cia leaned back in the captain's chair to watch her orders be carried out.

[Redshaw]

The boy swivels in his seat to regard the inquisatory clone with curiosity. He was certainly a fair bit chattier now than before. "Er... yes," he responds in an uncertain tone, though smiling politely. Kei did not know how to deal with soldiers, let alone clones; they were supposedly his inferiors, but they always knew more, fought harder and put themselves at considerable more risk than he. Yet, despite this, he was expected to command their respect and send them into battle. This was a contradiction that never settled well in his stomach. Clones in particular were a mystery; they did not have histories or families and most had lived less than a year. These were not men one could have conversation with, even there was not a galaxy-wide separation in between the ranks of commissioned officer and non-com trooper. And yet, here one stood, destroying every single one of the ensign's preconceptions of the trooper stereotype. His thick eyebrow lifts as 2020 continues, asking after the details of his suit and he realizes that the man is not asking out of passing courtesy, but genuine interest. His smile broadens as he recognizes a fellow enthusiast, "Good eye! And yes, I've heard much the same. Though unless it's an engine, I don't trust much that comes out of Corellia." He laughs in good nature, completely missing the clone's disguised advice to keep his helmet on at all times. The laughter is quickly stowed as the lieutenant enters the Bridge, causing him to immediately swivel back around and reassert focus on the ship's lift-off procedures.

Kei clucks in private annoyance, cursing himself for the sloppy lift off, Dammit, Fora, focus. The self-deprecation is doubled by Durrane's correction. This is what he got for allowing himself to get chatty and it served him right. He feels his mouth grow dry and the back of his neck precipitate as he senses the scrutiny of his betters behind him, Ignore it, Fora. It's just you and the ship... He moves the ship ponderously out of the bay into the wide field of space, internalizing the Inquisitor's commands and accessing the ship's nav-computer to begin making it so. He tilts his head toward the Nav-Computer, "Lieutenant, I believe we might make best use of the Corellian Tradespine, following m'lord's micro-jumps. If you would be so kind as to input our coordinates, we are ready to embark."

Kei speaks with absolute politeness and deference, offering all the supplication to Durrane that might be mustered in this request. Inwardly, the ensign can think of nothing more delightful than leaving Durrane in the hold and depressurizing the compartment. He hides another broken rib grimace with a winning smile as he turns to regard the superior officer expectantly. Do it, you smug bastard...

[Greymane]

The Lieutenant nods curtly at Kei. "A sound course, Ensign." Durrane walks to Nav Computer, and inputs the astrogation information into it exactly as Kei suggests. After a minute goes by, Durrane announces, "Coordinates input, and course plotted." He turns around to look at the Ensign, impatience clearly on his face. Kei dutifully engages the Hyperdrive, and the stars seen outside the window turn into streaming streaks of light as the ship enters hyperspace.

Between being trained in Use Computer and the +5 bonus from using a Nav Computer, he makes the check without even rolling.

[Dent-2020]

2020 watched his hint rocket over Ensign Fora's head and off into oblivion with no sign of having been received.

No Joy. Repeat, target not acquired.

He allowed himself a long sigh muffled by his helmet. Sergeant Li'itan had tried to warn him that there would be instances when his own knowledge and experience eclipsed that of his superiors, but if he had ever taught 2020 how to teach an officer anything, then 2020 must not have been paying attention - and, whatever the Sergeant might have accused him of, he had always paid attention when alor Li'itan was speaking.

Alright, mir'sheb, what're you gonna do now?

He couldn't yell at an Ensign, as he might have a Trooper in his charge, and making him look the fool in front of Durrane, Lord Cia, or Lord Velorus would only cause further problems.

At least Fora seemed to be amused rather than irritated by him. The boy seemed surprised at first by his attention, but he quickly warmed to the topic. His elastic mouth widened in a conspiratorial grin as he trivialized the Correlian tech that had been headlining so many of the flimsi-sheet news sources that made it to backwaters like 2020's base on Felucia. For a brief moment, it was like paling around with Asher after exercises... except that Ash was probably dead.

He was glad to have his helmet to hide the slip of his grin at the sobering thought.

2020 watched the mirth abruptly die on the young Ensign's face as the sound of Lieutenant Durrane's footsteps rang against the floor of the alleyway leading to the bridge, shortly followed by the cause himself. He followed the boy's example, turning to man his chosen station with an air of disciplined intent.

He nervously gripped the panel in front of him as Fora eased the Worthless away from its dock and out into open space.

There was once a time when 2020 would have sincerely believed that if anyone in the galaxy could steer this rust-bucket, it would be Fora, because they wouldn't have given him the job if he wasn't up to it. These days, the confidence he placed in his officers tended to be more of an act, kept up for their benefit. So, it was a more than pleasant surprise when the Ensign managed to guide the ship out of the hangar bay with what appeared to be no difficulty at all.

They hung in empty space like a dust mote in a beam of sunlight, suspended eerily by nothing, and 2020 was just beginning to release his white-knuckled grip on the console when Lord Cia gave her orders for a series of jumps to confuse any unwanted sources of scrutiny. He found himself suddenly gripping the panel again.

If this heap holds together for more than two consecutive jumps, I'll go find a helium atmosphere where I can sing the Vode An for you backwards, my Lord.

Lieutenant Durrane plugged in the course suggested and on the view screen in front of him the stars began to rapidly elongate and blur, enmeshing in a dizzying vortex that caused 2020's stomach to give an unpleasant lurch. Simulations are pointless, he thought. They could never have prepared him for the brilliant blue empty void of non-space outside of the ship. This was nothing like anything he had ever flown in before, and furthest from the little larty gunships that he had grown accustomed to.

He stared out into the beauty of the hyperspace tunnel. This was... this was...

His stomach gave another unsettled lurch.

Oh, this is going to make me sick.

[Redshaw]

The hours between the several micro-jumps are long and tedious, but not complicated. In the time passed, Kei ponders alternatives to Worthless' name, but finds nothing acceptable. Finally, mercifully, they enter the Corellian Trade Spine and the young ensign is given permission to take leave of the Bridge.

After some time spent in the refresher, redoing the securing bandages wrapped about his flank, the young man makes his way to the crew lounge, data pad in one hand and ration pellets in the other. Fatigue gnawed on him like gundark, but his restless mind needed quieting before it could be slaked into slumber. He munches eagerly on the rations as his fingers glide over his datapad, reviewing the results of his search protocol with interest. His eyes narrow as he reviews the data, mouth twitching into a frown, Well... that's a start...

Archiving the data, he places a few pellets in his mouth and moves on to his engineering plans. He presses a green button on the datapad and a 3D-image is holo-projected in the air directly above the screen, revealing a large, diamond-shaped engine block. Reviewing the work done so far, his brow furrows as he ponders the overall project. His fingers swipe the screen of his datapad diagonally and the 3D projection shimmers as the separate pieces of the engine block are separated from one another, revealing each inter-working piece. The power economy of the engine was acceptable, in his opinion, based on the Eta-2's design which drew from multiple sources, however, its output was still not up to par for his vision.

Kei's mind envisioned a star ship which could power up and activate its hyperdrive from the upper atmosphere of a planet, despite the natural gravity wells created by orbital bodies, allowing for ships as small as single-crew vessels to make micro-jumps from the orbit of one planet immediately into the orbit of another. The practical applications of such a feat would be incredible, potentially capable of completely bypassing a planet's orbital defenses and entering atmosphere before anyone could realize it, let alone stop it.

The project was difficult, but invigorating. He was not even certain that it would ever be a reality. For now, though, the power output in ratio with the economy was a problem and solving this occupied him well enough.

Knowledge: Physical Sciences Check

Attempting to improve the engine's power output capabilities.

[roll0]

An hour of intense focus is spent on the project, reinvention after reinvention before he's forced to close the model out of sheer eye exhaustion. The datapad is placed to the side and the ensign stands to stretch out his extremities.

[Dent-2020]

"Contact! Contact! Conta--!"

A shell bursts next to him with a roaring crush of earth that sends clods of dirt and 3 meter long daggers of tree shards ripping through the forest in every direction, and the cry in his comms is silenced, replaced by jagged screams. He crawls out from beneath the carnage and presses forward, racing ahead, knowing that his motion is attracting their fire, and knowing that if he stops for even a moment he is dead. They have his position.

Their goal is to raid the bunkers in Echo sector, gathering intel and disabling any artillery they find there, but the artillery has found them first.

His heart is racing and the air smells like death; like this fight is days old already and he can't imagine how he could possibly have made it this far. He's cut off from his unit, and though he can hear screaming all around him, he can't see his brothers at all - every way he looks is just the enemy, marching inexorably forward, eager to end him and everyone he has ever known.

Confused chatter clogs the comm lines.

"--flank is collapsing!"

"Pull out! Pull out!"

"Two bandits - low altitude Gamma sector!"

"Incoming!"

And then he can hardly hear anything beyond the steady oomph...oomph...oomph of blaster fire.

Fire and smoke has laid waste to the forest ahead of him, and the scorched earth still smolders with an intensity that could ignite the air. He can hear the tseeeeeeer screech of cannon rounds incoming and he falls prone without thinking, curled inward, arms protecting the back of his head and neck - as though they will offer any protection that his armor would not. The ground is shaking, and he is shaking, and his voice has joined with the voices of the screamers. The world is chaos, and he can't move. He can't get up and push forward anymore. He wants it to stop. He wants to go home. He wants his Sergeant. He's terrified, and he's a child, and the world is blowing to pieces around him under the sound of a perpetual, torrential, rain.

"Endex."

2020 awoke with a startled gasp, the word having been quietly wrenched from his sleeping lips.

Endex. End Exercise.

He had fallen asleep sitting in the corner of the couch in the crew lounge, his chin resting against his chest, E-11 cradled lightly in the crook of his elbow - the kind of cat nap that soldiers take between watches out on the line, when they expect utter chaos to be unleashed at any moment. Head beginning to clear, he pushed himself into a more upright position, checking the safety on his weapon automatically.

The terror of the dream had not yet dissipated, and he was struggling to breath; his chest was heaving. He slipped off his helmet and drew in a huge, penetrating lungful of the ship's stale air.

I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm fine. He ran his hands over his face, feeling his skin slick with cold sweat. It's alright. It happened to somebody else.

The sound of rainstorms was the key, he had found, to parsing out the reality behind the flash-training memories he had been given and his own experiences. The never-ending beating that permeated the flash-memories was from the sheets of water that dumped against the walls and rooftops of Tipoca City on Kamino.

2020 had not been trained in Tipoca City. Kamino had been targeted for attack three times during the Wars, and one of those times had nearly ended with the destruction of the entire crop of clones growing in the glass vats of the city. The loss of their cloning and training facilities would have been a devastating blow to the Republic, and later to the Empire, so alternate stations were established in nearby sectors to spread the risk. 2020 had been shipped to a training facility in the Rishi sector when he was a mere 20 days old. He could remember nothing of Kamino.

The memory had been a simulated battle - just a training exercise. The artillery had been fake, the screaming voices had been piped in through the sound system, the burning forest had been an illusion. The boy's terror had been very real.

2020 forced the memory aside; he had enough of his own demons without adding someone else's.

He looked up and found that at some point Ensign Fora had joined him in the crew lounge. The young officer had his back to him, and was poring distractedly over the dismantled hologram of some kind of drive core, manipulating individual pieces and then overlaying them upon each other. Periodically he would tear away work he had just done and start anew, altering parameters and discarding configurations with an air of dissatisfaction, but not irritation or worry. In short order he closed the program and set the datapad aside.

"Don't tell me our Core has a leak, Sir." 2020 said, standing up and wincing at the stiffness that permeated muscles that had been tensed throughout his, entirely unrestful, rest.

[Greymane]

Save for the the engine section of the ship, it was eerily quiet. Certainly the bridge had the beeping of consoles and tapping of fingers against them, but the silent vacuum of space made certain nothing outside the ship could be heard. Durrane worked with Ensign Fora to plot the series of microjumps, with Fora piloting and the Lieutenant plotting the course with the the Nav Computer. While using the instruments was not a difficult or duress-causing task in itself, it was time-consuming to get from point A to point B in the galaxy. At the first stop before another jump, there is an enormous nebula, made up of blues, reds, and purples in the distance. A white dwarf star softly illuminates the system. A small reminder to how large and magnificent the universe could be.

After the ship enters the Corellian Trade Spine, most take their cue to take a break from the bridge. Velorus goes to his quarters, barely acknowledging the rest of you in the process. Cia does, too, eventually. Lieutenant Durrane is seen going to her quarters shortly after, with no small amount of apprehension written on his face, and being invited inside. Inside the lounge area, the gentle hum of the hyperdrive engine can be heard through the stern-side wall.

Kei: According to your eyes, you think you've made a change that is overrall beneficial to your engine design.

[Redshaw]

Fora spins on his heel at the clone's question, the intense focus he poured into the project causing him a lapse in attention to his surroundings. His hands clasp each other behind his back and he assumes a military position, ears turning a slight shade of red. How in the hell did you talk to a trooper? Kei had seen officers who regarded them as mindless white helmets, indecent and unworthy of attention. The ensign was inclined to disagree, especially after the display of creativity and conversationalism exhibited hours before. But that did not answer his question.

This was a man who was infinitely more experienced than Kei. He knew battles, he knew fear, he knew blood and sinew and carbon burns. Kei understood flight patterns, politics, regulations, art and biology. There were worlds between them in both rank and background. But the Ensign was in the command chain, which meant this trooper's life might one day be forfeit to his direction; an honor and a responsibility he was not entirely sure he deserved, regardless of his ambition for command. He would at least know the clone... no, the man he might one day as good as kill himself.

He snaps a salute, waits for the trooper to return it, and then comes to stand in a more relaxed pose. "Not yet... trooper." He smiles slightly as he realizes the clone was not only asking out of politeness, but also concern for self-preservation. He lifts a hand to pat the walls of the ship, "She's tougher than she looks..." He pauses; a name! A name finally came to him. A name that reflected her ugly exterior, but perhaps was not so self-depricating as to give a superstitious spacer pause. "Worthless doesn't do her justice, I think." He strokes his chin, his grin spreading further at the irreverence of the name. "Callus would be more appropriate, don't you think? Ugly and tough." Like you, he adds privately, not yet comfortable enough to jibe vocally.

[Dent-2020]

Utterly perplexed, 2020 snapped to attention at the Ensign's salute, hastily transferring his helmet under his arm and mimicking his officer's movements. It wasn't typical practice for an officer to salute his NCO, and 2020 felt utterly foolish terminating the motion first - as though he had the right to the honors. He tried to make the motion as smooth as possible, however, trying not to draw attention to the slip in protocol and flummox Fora even more.

Fierfek. You're even jumpier than I am.

He supposed that could be forgiven, with two inquisitors and Lieutenant Durrane aboard with them.

He grinned at the Ensign's choice of names.
"I suppose she must be tougher than she looks," 2020 agreed, "She couldn't possibly be weaker."

He came nearer to the table and gestured to the discarded data pad. "May I ask what you were working on, Sir?"

[Redshaw]

Kei smiles, his mouth drying as realization of his mistake in protocol washes across his brain. Fortunately, the clone was gracious and adaptable in his response, not publicly addressing the mistake; not that the clone was in any position to complain. The ensign bobs his head at the clone's question, glad to think on something else.

"You may," he responds agreeably. Retrieving the datapad, Kei swipes through a few screen before re-uploading the engine designs and activating the holoprojection display; the drive core begins rotating in place, presenting in a dull red light. He tentatively offers the device to the clone. "It is a drive core... well, obviously." He pauses, awkwardly, as he seeks the words to continue; though he was proud of his work, he was never very comfortable showing it off. "I am designing one to fit inside a starfighter; you might notice that it is bigger than most sub-light cores you will find in a fighter, but that's because it will be putting out significantly more power. Ion engines might be more economical, but simply cannot hold up to par with a good fusion engine. With the right frame, she could get a ship up to speeds of one hundred and ten megalights, while maintaining life support and personal shields." As he goes into detail, the awkwardness sloughs off him like skin off a lizard, replaced with genuine enthusiasm. "But despite her size and power, she will not be terribly tolling on energy supplies. It's based on the 4L4 fusion thrust engine, but it will be able to draw power from both fusion power as well as solar, making it incredibly efficient!"

He smiles brightly and swipes the datapad's screen, once again separating the parts into several small pieces that dance across the air and then steps back, folding his arms. "Of course, faster-than-light capabilities on single-pilot star ships already exist, but they're so expensive and so uncommon, not to mention inefficient, they may as well not exist yet. There is a market open for mass production just waiting for its prototype." He points out the engine's separated capacitors, "If I can get it to work, she will able to feed a hyperdrive engine on her own power, without need for a capital ship's gravity well to boost her range or a clunky hyperdrive docking ring. All she would need is an astromech's nav-computer and the galaxy becomes an open door."

He shrugs now, with wistful sigh attached, "Just the universe and the pilot... Nothing else."

A few silent seconds pass, his thoughts carrying him far away from the conversation, the mission and even the ship itself. But, of course, gravity returns to his mind and awareness comes plummeting back into the moment; his cheeks begin to burn pink with self-consciousness. He stands straighter, attempting to put back on airs of formality that were long gone during his project's explanation. "It is... still a work in progress, of course; doubtful she will ever see the light of a sun. An amateur's attempt at best. But these sort of engines are the way of the future. I guarantee it."

[Dent-2020]

2020 listened carefully to Fora's explanation. He didn't understand most of the discussion of mechanics, but the implications for warfare were easy enough to grasp.

With ships equipped with a drive like this, a small strike force could harass a much larger ship. They would be able to attack almost anywhere, without warning - unfettered from the need to hide the signal traces of a warship at their backs. And without the need to re-dock to a hyperspace ring, they would be much less hindered in their movement - able to jump in, attack with as deadly a payload as they could reasonably carry, and then jump immediately back out. Such a mission with current power rings could be suicide; a defending fighter would need only attack their free-floating hyperdrive ring in order to cut off all hope of escape.

"I'm glad you're on our side, Sir." He said, still envisioning the ways an enemy force might put it to use. "Ships outfitted with this engine would be ideal for use in guerrilla tactics. And if a pilot jumped too near a planet's gravity well... You don't have a hyperdrive engine so much as a hyperdrive bomb."

During the Wars, a malfunctioning hyperdrive had once allowed a Battlecruiser to collide with the gravity well of the planet Pammant, and the force had been so destructive that Pammant's crust was cracked all the way to the core and the atmosphere was rendered inhospitable to life forms due to radiation. Hyperdrives intentionally aimed for a gravity well probably would have been a far greater threat in wartime, but that such an attack would cost a major vessel and the lives of its entire crew. Somehow, at a cost of only one pilot and one starfighter, he could see such attacks becoming frighteningly more common among extremist groups. "A collision with a single starfighter wouldn't destroy a planet, of course, but I bet it could wipe a whole city off the face of a topo."

He peered curiously over the top of the data pad at Ensign Fora, considering his comment about a pilot just taking off across the universe, untied to a battleship. "You'd really fly an untested hyperspace route just to see what was waiting at the other end, Sir?"

[Redshaw]

Kei frowns deeply as the clone mentions the more destructive capabilities of his design and he snatches back the datapad almost defensively, like a mother protecting its child. "A mind incapable of subtlety or preciseness might employ it for such brutality, yes," he replies with more venom than absolutely necessary.

Tucking the datapad under his arm, the ensign sighs, allowing his temper to calm. He finds the clone's follow up question irritating, "A bit personal of a question, I think, trooper." The answer to the question was yes, of course, a thousand times over. Nothing would give the ensign more pleasure. It was also a completely suicidal dream, inappropriate and not suitable for an officer in the Emperor's Navy.

Well that's a great way to win the trust of your men, Fora. You're off to a grand start. And then, perhaps as an apology for his rude response, he returns fire with his own question; it would not do to vocally beg the clone's forgiveness. "I've a name for the ship, but I've not one for you, soldier." He smiles kindly now, "What may I call you?"

[Saulk]

Relieved of the burden of having to plot the course of the ship, a task she found tedious even though it seemed to come second nature to her, KL-03 began to work on the gunnery emplacement. One of the benefits of her design was that she was a fully capable "tool-kit" in her own right. She set to the task as a way to clear her mind, in the way that some might read, or listen to music. This was "down-time" for her, and she needed it to consider what they were about to do.

In the light of only her Arc Welder, the droid whistled, almost to herself. There was no question that the mission would be dangerous. She'd never expected it not to be, but this one would be particularly so. She was ready for danger, in the service of the Empire, but she was no fool. Letting the organics take the brunt of harm would always seem to be the best course of action, though she know to them in many ways she was disposable. A droid was often seen as less than an intelligent life form - a thing that mostly KL-03 agreed with. Most of the droids she'd encountered had been slavishly devoted to various masters, incapable or unwilling to think for themselves outside the boundaries of their programming. She knew it quite well.

She had once been in their very position.

That was before the accident, and before everything changed. When the accident happened...no. There would be other times to think about that. For now, she retracted her welder and extended her probe towards the work she was doing. Now she was an intelligence officer, valued for her ability to penetrate systems. She would be showing her skill when she boarded that ship. For now...a little firepower wouldn't hurt.

Actions
KL-03 is going to spend some quality time fixing the Gunnery Emplacement - Mechanic Roll - [roll0]

[Dent-2020]

2020 couldn't have been more surprised by the Ensign's turn of mood if the young man had slapped him across the face, and was utterly taken aback when he snatched the datapad out of 2020's hands, holding it to his chest protectively.

A mind incapable of subtlety or precision? 2020 thought, incredulous. He felt like a strill that had just been whacked on the nose with a piece of flimsiplast - bad clone! Bad clone for thinking like a war criminal! No biscuit!

He found it absurd that Fora seemed to think only some sort of demented ghoul would consider using his invention counter to his virtuous intentions.

What about a mind that was desperate? What about a mind that was facing an impossibly larger force, and thought that sending a lone starfighter on a one-way flight to their enemy's homeworld was better than sending an entire generation of their own species to a slaughter? What about a mind that wanted a quick and decisive victory, and a lasting peace?

Did he think that wars were fought by pacifists? By altruists? By humanitarians?

You sanctimonious little dinii. I only said how it could be used. Never said anything about should.

Should's not the point. You design a planet-killer on a minimally-secure data pad that you trek with halfway across the galaxy and I'm the sheb for considering all that might be done with it if it fell to hostile forces?

Brain the size of a sun and you're too noble to think like the enemy. Fierfek. What do you think you're doing in command?

Fora's tone softened when he asked 2020's name, as though he wanted to overlook his outburst, but 2020 pulled formality back around himself like armor; he wasn't some pet to be kicked or cuddled depending on the day of the week. He straightened and took a step back from Ensign Fora, staring at a point on the opposing bulkhead as he swallowed his anger at the Ensign's obvious disdain enough to answer his question. "Sir, my unit designation is TC-167/2020." He said, his tone nearly robotic. He pronounced it crisply, an unbroken string of nonsense syllables; Tee-See-One-Six-Seven-Slash-Two-Zero-Two-Zero.

And my name is also a personal question, he added internally. He wasn't sure if the Ensign was aware that clones often had a name they preferred to their alpha-numeric designator or not, or whether he would consider 2020's curt response aberrant disobedience. He didn't pause for the affronted look he expected would pass across the young officer's face if that were the case. It was a personal question; his name was something given to him by his brothers, and they were the only people who had ever used it.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, Sir, I believe the droid has intentions to repair our quad-cannon. I intend to go offer my assistance."

He didn't wait to be formally excused, but he paused at the hatchway between the crew lounge and the cargo hold.

"I'd hate to get caught with our pants down by someone who lacks subtlety or precision." He finally said, struggling to disguise the contempt in his voice.




It didn't take long to locate the astromech at the gunnery station past the aft cargo hold, sparks from her arc-welder lighting the cabin with a flickering blue-white light.

"Is there any way I can help, Ma'am?... I'd like to be useful." He admitted, hoping the droid could commiserate with the sentiment.

[Redshaw]

Kei keeps a stone expression through out 2020's cold self-identification. He knew he'd crossed a line and immediately felt twinges of regret. What a perfect start to a beautiful relationship. Kei closes his eyes as 2020 leaves, suddenly remembering exactly how truly exhausted he was.

Shoulders slumped with the weight of failed self-expectations, the ensign escapes to the relatively poor privacy of his berth. He had not meant to snap at the clone, who had asked perfectly legitimate questions, but idealism still rang true within his young soul and the thought of his perfect explorer's engine being used for something so gauche as planetary bombardment made him sick to the stomach. That did not give excuse for the rudeness. He'd make it up to the clone later.

Laying out on his bed, groaning only slightly as his broken rib is moved, the ensign accesses his datapad once more. TC-167/2020... Holo-net connection in hyperspace could be sketchy at times, but this was the vastly traveled Corellian Spine and he had the proper Imperial codes, so access in this case was not too difficult. Kei began downloading the service record of the clone's unit; perhaps a better understanding of the soldier's background would provide him with better arms to manage the clone with.

A kind word, that's what was needed. But rank frowned upon officers apologizing to soldiers so forwardly; he'd have to find a more creative way of earning the clone's forgiveness. And he was so tired. Perhaps he might rest a bit, only a few moments.

A Gather Information check on 2020's service record, as well as that of his unit

[roll0]

[Saulk]

The droid paused and considered the clone trooper, before whistling an affirmative, not choosing to enable the vocabulator at that time. She moves over slightly to allow access to the trooper before shifting to her spoken systems. "Regrettably I have no tools to offer. All my tools are self-contained. If you have some of your own, however, or can find them, please feel free to assist. Usefulness is admirable. I trust you have knowledge of repair and mechanics? I personally do not, but it is hard-coded into my systems. It is not unlike the endorphic high some humanoids get from physical exercise for me to engage in these activities."

[Greymane]

If 2020 does intend to help, he would need access to a toolkit. Locating one is not difficult, as there was one he passed in the aft cargo hold. The wiring for the gunnery station was a mess, wires were crossed, some were fused and melted together, and there was more than one Sienar Fleet Systems piece of equipment scattered about inside. The work is time-consuming, especially considering the work you're doing is from the inside of the ship, rather than being able to work directly with the gun, however, in roughly five hours time, you're able to get the gunnery station back up and operational. The quad laser cannon is now functioning properly.

Meanwhile, inside the darkened interior of Inquisitor Cia's quarters, Lieutenant Durrane sits in a chair, staring uncomfortably into Cia's eyes. The occasional bead of sweat runs down the side of his face, and his hands are resting on his lap, his knuckles clenched and white. The lieutenant shakes his head slowly."Nothing at the moment, my lord, on both accounts." His breathing has slowed, and is calmer now. "If something should come up, I will inform you immediately." He swallows again. "There will be no secrets kept from you, on my part." He shifts in his seat restlessly.

During this time, there is no sign of Velorus. He does not exit his quarters, and no sound emanates from inside.

Unfortunately, KL-03's check was such that, pass or fail on Dent's Aid Another check, the result is the same. Feel free to roll still, if only to give you an idea on how well or poorly you aid in the repair process.

[Redshaw]

While repairs are successfully completed on the gunnery station, rest is not wasted on the ensign and he awakes naturally, head brimming with new ideas. He is smiling when his eyes open and he immediately reaches for his much-used datapad before even fully rising from his cot. Inspiration struck him in his sleep; both an ingenious mechanical design and a possible olive branch for 2020. He had to begin immediately before the thought left his memory as dreams always did.

Knowledge: Physical Sciences check

[roll0]

Will detail the design to the DM privately.

Unlocking the datapad takes a few moments; besides the exhaustive Imperial codes protecting it from wireless splicing, the ensign had a tech-oriented friend on Carida write a security system that made it difficult for anyone besides Fora himself to access the data pad, including thumbprint recognition and a weekly-changing alphabetical-numerical input based on the Bocce language. Invasive officers like Barrage and Durrane quickly taught Fora that intellectual security and privacy were at a premium and he did not keep copies of his personally written data in a cloud to be accessed from other units; back-ups were stored on a physical datachip kept on his person. Eventually, the datapad greets him with a basic wallpaper of the Corellian Tradespine and all the labeled systems within its length - a detail he uploaded after deciding their trajectory, so that he might keep himself familiarized with the route. He initiates the high-functioning engineering software and begins a new archive, uploading a twin ion-engine template to edit. In a side screen, he draws up the specifications for his custom fusion core, so that he might visually compare the two. Separating the parts overlay of the twin ion, Kei immediately begins swapping in and swapping out specific sectionals from the custom design into the new template, like tinker-toys. Lights dance across his eyes as the project slowly pieces itself together; he barely has to puzzle it out, inspiration using his body only as a tool to create its own image on the datapad's holoprojector.

Energizer... heat exchange matrix... collection coils... high pressure radioactive fuel tank... solar ionization reactor... no need for a hypermatter injector with an ionization reactor...

Kei overviews the rough draft critically. Well... it's a start. He sighs with a measure of only slight dissatisfaction, archives the blueprint and exits the program. Datapad still nestled under his arm, the ensign takes some necessary moments in the refresher before moving on to the helm, double checking the ship's systems and trajectory. It gives him pause to see that the lieutenant was not out and about, but the only concern he ever felt regarding Durrane's absence was what the officer might be plotting behind closed doors.

The ensign moves on to the gunnery station, finding his two other crew members concluding their work. He speaks softly, standing outside the threshold of the small compartment, "Twenty-twenty. KL-03. Do we have a time estimate on the repairs?"

[Dent-2020]

Aid Another Mechanics Check done on the OOC board, just for kicks.


Bal kote, darasuum kote,
Jorso’ran kando a tome
Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an.

2020 hummed the familiar tune, lying on his back beneath the cramped console of the gunnery station. He contorted his shoulder to reach the dangling wires above him, grabbed the stripped ends of the two that fed to the targeting assist in a pair of pliers, and twisted them tightly together to complete the circuit.

It wasn't pretty, but it would work.

He thought so, anyway.

He wasn't a trained mechanic, but the funny thing about being a clone, 2020 had found, was that you tended not to think of yourself as bad at something just because you weren't trained to do it. It was hard to assume that he must have no head for gadgets when his platoon buddy Demo could make a remote detonator out of mesh tape, a com link, and a ration tin.

When it came to questions like "Can you do such-and-such?", his inevitable response was "Of course I can. I just don't know how."

So, when KL-03 had made room for him at the console he had grabbed the toolkit he'd noticed sitting out in the aft cargo hold and jumped right in. He hadn't been much help, he knew, but he could follow directions well enough, and he certainly hadn't made anything worse. He could 'remove that casing', or 'cut all the negative leads,' or 'pass me that spanner.' He thought he'd even learned a bit.

He liked working with the droid. She was intent and pragmatic, and after spending the last few hours with her he began to see why some of his brothers, like Demo, had always seemed to prefer the company of machines to organics.

"Twenty-twenty. KL-03. Do we have a time estimate on the repairs?"

Contact.

2020 startled at Fora's abrupt appearance in the doorway of the cramped station, jerking upright and banging his head roughly against the underside of the console, fumbling the snatch he made for the weapon he had laid at his side. It was just as well, he supposed, shaking off his alarm. Pointing his rifle at an officer probably wasn't a good move.

Especially when he was still pissed at the officer in question.

He shimmied out from under the console, rubbing at what felt like a a verbobrain-sized bump that was rapidly appearing at his hairline.

"I think we're just about done here, Sir." He reported in a sullen tone.

[Redshaw]

Kei makes no outward notice of 2020's less-than-chipper tone. Wonderful. You've made a friend for life with that one, Fora... He did not like the idea of a rift between him and the clone. It's true he was not used to commanding soldiers and he'd be damned if his first would resent him; Kei had plenty of officers himself that he resented and he would not be counted among them. There would be plenty of time to restore the soldier's confidence. On a pleasant note, he had not expected the efforts on repairing the gunnery station to be completed so swiftly. He nods his head at the competent pair, "Very well. I imagine Lord Cia will be pleased to hear it..."

Kei begins to turn away before pausing a moment, "...perhaps she may even allow us to give it a test run before we arrive at Bakura. It is our duty to ensure that Callus is running tip-top, don't you agree? And I imagine the poor girl's turret barrels have acquired quite the mynock infestation." The corners of his lips curl upwards just slightly and he takes his leave. We might even take the fighter for a spin while we're at it... clear the dust out of the ion converters. I could use some time in the hot-seat anyway, stretch my wings a bit. It was a pleasing thought.

He pauses mid-stride as another though occurs to him. "Twenty-twenty. Please accompany me." He keeps one hand behind his back, the other cradling his much-beloved datapad in the crook of its elbow.

[Dent-2020]

"Roger, roger." 2020 muttered. It was a piece of clone slang - a mocking affirmative drawn from the vocoders of the Seppie battle droids, used to politely tell another to 'go die in a fire.'

He pushed himself to his feet and took a last look at the gunnery station. He wasn't in any mood to find merit in the Ensign's ideas, but he had to admit that it would be practical to try his hand at the quad-cannon.

And fun.

Nothing against regs about liking my job.

"Cheers." He said, dismissing himself from KL-03's company and following Ensign Fora into the cargo hold.

[Redshaw]

The Inquisitor still in her quarters and his lieutenant still skulking about; Kei would not delay too long in delivery of the ship's update, but there was a matter only somewhat more pressing. Waiting for 2020 to catch up to him in the cargo hold, the ensign doesn't turn to face the clone before speaking to him, "The TIE-fighter." He sweeps his hand in an arc across the room as he says the name with respect, "Pride of the Imperial Navy."

He begins taking steps forward, walking about the starship and speaking as if he were an advertisement, "Hull of titanium alloy, multi-range TAG sensor system, a T-s8 targeting computer." He walks up to the oculus of the fighter, placing his hand against its plastisteel viewport, "A P-s4 Twin ion engine that utilizes microparticle accelerators to agitate ionized gases to relativistic velocities, featuring independently articulated ion stream deflector manifolds for pinpoint maneuvering accuracy, powered by an I-a2b solar ionization reactor, which generates the radioactive energy necessary to push her up to a thrust rating of one hundred and fifty KTU's. She is nothing to scoff at, I assure you."

He turns to face the clone now, "And yet, for all her elegance and speed and power, she is a useless hunk of metal without a competent pilot." He steps past the clone, hands folding behind his back, datapad still clutched in his finger tips, "There are officers who would suggest a similar comparison between a commander and his troopers."

He sighs, closing his eyes and summoning all the humility and charisma that he can muster. "I know everything about this ship. I count myself among the best pilots I know. But even I forget to activate the repulsorlifts before powering the engines when taking off from time to time." He pauses here, hoping the soldier picks up on the allegorical apology for his rude behavior hours before.

He turns to face the green-haired man once again, "I imagine you are significantly more useful than a TIE-fighter without a pilot, Twenty-twenty. But I still hope, in time, you will allow me to learn your nuances as completely as I have learned hers. And perhaps earn some instruction on the nuances of commanding a battlefield as well."

It was a calculated risk, speaking with the trooper so honestly, one he could only pray would pay off. Too little honesty with a man under your command and he resented you; too much and he disrespected you. His self confidence in the ability to learn command depended on this.

"... my report to lord Cia is overdue." The officer gives the clone his full countenance, "Consider my words. That is all."

Dismissing himself, Kei makes his way to quarters hallway, intent to deliver his news. He finds himself torn between the snake of a lieutenant's berth and the First Mate's. Deciding the update not worthy of a skip in the chain of command, Kei finds himself in front of Durrane's quarters. He presses down on the door's notifier; anyone within would become immediately aware of his presence. "Lieutenant," calls the ensign, quietly.

[Dent-2020]

2020 pursed his lips at the unflattering comparison between a soldier and an unpiloted starfighter, but didn't contend the point. He wasn't stupid, whatever Fora might have thought of him. And he didn't particularly want to be sent back to Felucia for his smart mouth, again.

He folded his arms over his chest and stared at the Ensign's back as the young man flitted around the room, seemingly determined to look anywhere but into 2020's face. When Fora finally admitted that he might, just maybe, make mistakes from time to time, it sounded like pretty weak tea.

Still, it was more of an apology than he had ever been given by an officer before. And it sounded like the young man really was trying. He could let it pass.

2020 vacillated between relief and self-disgust at the thought.

Oh, that's right - just come to heel like the loyal little strill you are, you pathetic little-

Shut Up. He told himself firmly.

He hadn't been designed to hold a grudge. Camaraderie was the lifeblood of a trooper, and loyalty was hard-wired into him.

He watched Ensign Fora as the young man took his leave, and took a last look at the hulking mass of the TIE fighter before following his lead, his head tripping over how quickly it seemed that Ensign Fora's mood could turn.

He wandered back into KL-03's company at the gunnery station.

[Greymane]

As Kei stands next to the door to Durrane's quarters, he can hear the muffled sound of a voice just beyond. As soon as he presses the door's notifier, the voice ceases immediately. A few seconds later, and the door opens. The Lieutenant is standing there, holding a datapad in his left hand. His hat has been removed, showing slicked back, short brown hair, and his tunic is unbuttoned. He looks down his nose at the young ensign, with a hint of minor annoyance.

"Ah. Ensign Fora." He moves back into his quarters, and sets the datapad on a table, next to a holocommunicator. "I trust you have an overdue report for me?"

[Redshaw]

The ensign looks over Durrane's countenance with curiosity, hand lifting to pluck off his own hat out of due respect. "Yes, sir." He steps part-way into the lieutenant's berth, tactfully standing in the threshold to keep the door from closing behind him. "My apologies for the delay, sir. I have just received word that KL-03 and Twenty-twenty have concluded repairs on the stationary."

He clears his throat,"If you think it wise, sir, we might try to find an opportunity either before arrival in the Bakura system or before rendezvous with the target ship to give the quad-cannon a diagnostics test. I imagine the fighter could use some time outside of the hanger bay as well, sir."

[Henry the 57th]

Inquisitor Cia strode out of her own room several minutes later, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Her robe discarded in the tight ship, she wore lightsaber prominently on her belt in accordance with her masters' teachings. The Chiss walked leisurely around the ship, arms folded behind her back, taking time to absorb every lat detail of its layout. Just in case.

Eventually, her self guided tour took her by the gunnery station, where she spied the clone and astromech droid together. She stared at them briefly with her head slightly to the side, like a curious predator evaluating its huddling prey. Cia spoke suddenly and without warning. "What do we have here?" she said as she looked around the room. She looked 2020 directly in the eye. "Perhaps you could fill me in on what is going on in here, hmmm?"

[Dent-2020]

"Sorry about that. I think Ensign Fora just tried to sell me a TIE fighter. Pity it's not in my budget this month." 2020 said as he returned to the gunnery station and KL-03's company. He wondered idly if the droid was capable of appreciating humor, or if the comment would just be cryptically confusing to her.

They probably all think they same thing about you, you know. He thought, sobering.

Blaster Fodder, Bucket Head, Dead Man, Meat Can, Plastic Boy... the galaxy had a lot of names for clone troopers, but the one he had always found most irritating was wet droids. as though he couldn't feel pain, be frightened, care for others, or want things. As though he wasn't a real person.

He mulled over the thought as he began clearing away the assorted detritus of the past several hours, readying the station for potential action. He'd come to the conclusion some time after leaving Rishi that it must be a holdout attitude left from the war for most civilians; it must have been so much easier to think that way about their clone soldiers. You didn't need to mourn the hundreds of thousands of troopers that died in battles like Geonosis if they weren't really people to begin with. The attitude was still alarmingly common among the ranks of the Imperial Military as well, however, and that was surprising to him.

He was still lost in thought when Lord Cia made her abrupt appearance at the entry to the gunnery station. His back to her, he nearly jumped out of his skin when she broke the silence, immediately grabbing at his rifle where it hung over his shoulder from a long piece of black webbing. Reason reasserted itself half a second later, and he turned the motion of his arm into a sharp salute, turning to face the Chiss' predatory red gaze and answer her question.

If they all don't stop sneaking up on me, I'm going to shoot one by accident one day.

"My Lord. We believe that KL-03 has successfully repaired the damaged systems on the quad-laser cannon. It remains only to be tested." He said.

[Greymane]

The lieutenant raises his brow in astonishment at the ensign's news. "It hasn't even been a full day, and we're not in a garage equipped to undergo repairs. That's very expedient work." His tone takes a slightly derisive turn. "Which I trust you had nothing to do with?". He shakes his head. "A sound suggestion, but I doubt Inquisitor Cia would wish to delay the mission, but I will put forth the suggestion. If we should need it, it would be best that we know it works before hand." He pauses then, and his expression toward Kei turns darker, like a caged nexu gaping hungrily at an observer. The silence grows uncomfortable, then Durrane at last exhales through gritted teeth. "You are dismissed, Ensign."

Once Kei leaves, Durrane leaves shortly after, his uniform and hate in more perfect condition, and his subordinate's report in hand. He first goes to the First Mate's quarters, and presses the notifier. After a few moments he begins to look anxious and hesitantly knocks at the door. When no answer comes, he leaves the quarters area of the ship, and searches for her. Upon finding her at the gunnery station, he patiently waits for her to finish her inspection before speaking. When she is capable of addressing him, he speak, and offers her Kei's report on datapad. "My lord, the ensign has a progress report on his actions, and the situation with..." He peers over to look in the direction of the stationary. "...our gunnery station." Then looks back to Cia. "The ensign had a suggestion..." He clears his throat. "That we drop from hyperspace temporarily to test our newly-mended weaponry. We would have to stop at one of the coordinates of our micro-jumps, however. It is... a prudent suggestion, which I support. Better to know whether or not it's functional before we're in the midst of needed it and chancing it." His expression turns skeptical. "He also thought it an opportune time to give the TIE in the hangar a test-flight to make sure it, too, is in tip-top condition." He adds a sneer. "Frankly, I'm certain that is just an excuse to fly one of the Empire's latest fighter models."

[Henry the 57th]

Cia nodded politely at 2020's explanation of his actions. "Very good, Sergeant. And you as well, KL-03. An admirable level of initiative. Do carry on." She sensed the Lieutenant's arrival before she saw him, and turned to meet him.

The Chiss listened as Durrane spoke. "I agree with both proposals, Lieutenant. Testing both our weapons and fighter craft is a potentially vital piece of preparation. If the Ensign seems to be focused on space jockeying and not actual, tests, I shall have words with him."

[Greymane]

Durrane brings his right hand up in a quick salute. "I'll see that it is done, my lord."



Roughly a day later, the ship exits hyperspace from the point of one of the micro-jumps along the Corellian Trade Spine. There is slight turbulence as the ship re-enters normal space, and any unattended items find themselves sliding rapidly towards the bow of the ship because of it. Outside the bridge window, few celestial bodies can be seen. A barren rock of a planet, a dull gray in color, pock marked with craters, and a dense asteroid field close by to it, all illuminated by a brilliant yellow sun.

The lieutenant turns to Kei. "Well, Ensign, now is your opportunity to test fly the TIE in the hangar." He turns a calculating look towards 2020. "And I suppose you would be the most qualified to test the newly-repaired laser canon. Ensign, before you are dismissed, pull us within weapons range of the asteroid field. We couldn't have asked for better target practice if a smuggling ship happened by."

[Dent-2020]

2020 turned to Lieutenant Durrane with some surprise, but tried not to show it. Surely the man didn't think that just because 2020 looked like one of his typical bridge-crew, he could also perform all of their trained operations? But then, Durrane hadn't exactly given the impression thus far that he focused much thought at all upon the cloned soldiers of the Empire. He seemed to think of them as all one lot, and it was a lot he categorically disdained.

2020 had, of course, entertained the thought of trying his hand at the cannon while he was repairing it. The quadlaser boasted a gorgeous amount of fire power and a wide firing arc, and the part of him that had always genuinely enjoyed blowing things to pieces would be more than happy for a turn in the hot seat. Realistically, however, he didn't want Durrane to go picking a fight simply because he assumed he had a competent gunner manning the weapons station.

"Actually, Sir, I'm trained as a scout trooper for ground-based operations. I'm afraid I have no field experience with heavy weapons or ship-to-ship combat. I'll man the quad cannon, if you still feel I am the most qualified, Sir, but you should know... there's gonna be a learning curve."

[Greymane]

The lieutenant arched a single brow at 2020's explanation, and begins his retort with a dismissive scoff. "Sergeant, if I wanted piddly excuses, I'd ask for them. We're not firing on clay pigeons here, these are asteroids. You need to know how to press a button, and hit something up to the size of a space port. Now, if you're enfeebled and incapable of this task, tell me, and I will take it under advisement, but in the mean time, follow your orders to the best of your ability." He gazes long and hard at the clone, his eyes narrowed and beady, almost challenging him.

[Redshaw]

Kei frowned at Durrane, his lips thinning with disapproval. ...this isn't right.

24 hours ago his protest would have ended there. But 24 hours ago he was not part of a secret mission under the influence of an Inquisitor. 24 hours ago his only company were fellow ensigns and midshipman, who could do little but kowtow to the brute of a Lieutenant. 24 hours ago he had no broken ribs.

Stepping forward between the two, forcing Durrane to break eye contact, Fora gestures towards the gunnery seat. "Not to worry, Twenty-twenty. It's tricky but not impossible." Waiting until the clone takes a seat, the ensign comes to stand behind the soldier and begins pointing out the mechanism of the quad. "First, the controls. The turret uses pedals for you to rotate the quad left or right, as well as these vertical control sticks for moving up or down."

Most of his attention still put toward assisting the clone, Kei spares a moment to glance back at the astromech, "Be so kind as to divert power to the gunnery station, KL-03." He returns full focus to 2020. "Now for targetting. You can attempt at strictly manual controls; some of the best gunnery men do. But for you, I might suggest harnessing the targetting computer attached to this unit. It will help you plot vectors to fire where an enemy ship will be, rather than where it is." Flipping a switch, the sectioned screen of available target zones alights in front of the view port, green light filling the small compartment. "Try getting use to the controls while I bring the Callus to bare on the asteroid belt."

Stepping back from the seat, Kei turns around to catch Durrane's eyes. He stares at the Lieutenant for a few brief moments, not long enough to be considered an issue of challenge, but just the right amount of time to deliver a message to the superior officer. A message which read, We're not on the Guardian anymore...

Stepping into the bridge, Kei assumes the controls to smoothly bring the ship about, pulling outwards from the system a few thousand kilometers to bring them closer to the asteroid belt. Warning indicators begin flashing across the Callus's screen, informing him of the ship's distress protocols when placed in such near proximity to a belt. He double checks the ship's shields and then steps away from the console. It was time to fly.

Aid Another on 2020's next roll to hit.

[Dent-2020]

2020 set his jaw at Lieutenant Durrane's snide order.

"Very good, Sir." He bit out.

There was a certain cast to the way Durrane suggested he might be enfeebled that made 2020 suspect the Lieutenant was suggesting mental, more than physical, impairment, and it rankled. Thankfully, Ensign Fora's timely interruption saved him from the impulse to say something that he was sure to regret. Instead, 2020 allowed himself to be ushered over to the quad cannon and took the seat, listening intently to Fora's explanation of the controls. He tried each in series and found that the cannon had an unexpectedly light, almost buoyant, movement - as though his own bodyweight was acting as a counterbalance to the gun's mass. He suspected that closer to a large gravity well, the motion would be far less smooth.

Now all he needed was the weapon's range. But oh, the cannon wasn't firing a physical slug, but a bolt of energy. Further, the vacuum of space offered no resistance, and there was no gravity to alter a projectile's arc. So, targeting assist to project the flight-path of a vehicle moving faster than his eye could probably even track, but no need to account for any of the factors he was familiar with; wind speed and direction, depth perception deviations due to atmospheric anomalies, standard gravity quotient. The laser cannon was point and shoot.

The asteroid belt loomed large as Ensign Fora maneuvered the Callus closer, but they still stopped well short of the nearest rocky satellites. None of them, he noted, appeared to be the size of a space port from this distance. If he missed - and he was sure he would, working with entirely unfamiliar weapons - Durrane was going to make this an exercise in humility.

There's nothing he can say that can change reality, so don't let him get to you.

He grabbed a communications earpiece from the console and patched himself through to the bridge and Ensign Fora's helmet channel.

"Torrent-Echo-Two-Two-Five-One, this is Callus Gunner. We are primed and ready to light. Repeat, ready to light. Request stand off port-side station or call and wait five if crossing. K'oyacyi. Over to you."

K'oyacyi. It was an order, if one were going to get technical. It meant stay alive, or alternately, come back safely. On Felucia, 2020 had started using it as a sign off any time someone left base - even for a milk run. Holding it back now would have felt like sending Fora off with a curse.

[Greymane]

Upon Kei's return to the bridge from the gunnery station, his hard stare to the Lieutenant is met with one of equal measure, with no small amount of hatred added to it. To his credit, however, he says nothing in response to it.

As Kei moves from the pilot's seat, and begins to head towards exiting the bridge, he notices that Lord Velorus is now perched at the back of the bridge, staring intently out the window. He wasn't there a moment ago when Kei first sat down. As Fora passes by him, he speaks, without breaking his eye contact from the window. "Ensign. Be mindful of your surroundings." He utters in a low, cryptic tone.

As 2020 familiarizes himself with the targting controls, he notes that the targeting computer does not lock on to asteroids. Any firing done on them is completely manual.

Targeting computers do not lock onto asteroids. Firing on them means the targeting computer does not assist you, so it offers no bonus. Firing with no Base Attack Bonus, no assistance from the computer, and no proficency with heavy weapons, 2020 is looking at a -5 on his attack roll with the quad laser canon.

[Redshaw]

Kei nearly leaps in terror with the Inquisitor's sudden appearance. Instead, he snaps a salute, "Beg your pardon, my Lord." He keeps an attentive pose as he nods his head in agreement with the Inquisitor, eyes filled with more curiosity than terror, "...I did not see you."

He clears his throat, politely changing the subject. "We have dropped out of hyperspace momentarily to run a diagnostics test on the gunnery station's quad cannon. While we were at it, I volunteered to take the TIE fighter for its own test flight, put her through the paces."

"...with your permission of course, my Lord," adds Kei with a hasty addendum.

[Greymane]

Velorus still does not break eye contact from the vision of space outside the window. He waves his left hand dismissively at Kei, however. He speaks in a low, distracted tone. "Inquisitor Cia is in charge. Not I. You do not need my permission to perform your tasks." His eyes narrow, as he peers out into space. "Simply. Be mindful. There is something strange about this system."

[Redshaw]

Clearing his throat, the ensign salutes the secretive agent and hurriedly takes his leave. Velorus was disturbing enough without making awful premonitions. Still, the ensign took the warning to heart, making the general assumption that the man knew more than he did. Stopping in his berth, Kei leaves his datapad in the locked silver case he brought aboard and retrieves his helmet.

Fastening the bucket to his head while making for the hangar bay, Kei connects his personal comm system into the helmet's mic and secures the seal about his neck, ensuring that he might survive the vacuum of space that his TIE fighter did not protect against.

Stepping into the hatch of the fighter and taking his seat in the oculus, Kei begins powering the fighter's core systems. He smiles privately at 2020's comm chatter, not understanding Mandalorian phrase, but recognizing its root and its significance. "Copy, Callus Gunner. Good hunting. Callus-One to bridge, requesting permission to launch, over." From his position, Kei is able to seal the hangar's airlock, but is unable to open the hatch to outer space. Waiting for a response, the ensign activates and begins the diagnostic tests on the TIE's TAG sensor system and targeting computers.

The ship's doors open with a lurch and vacuum fills the bay. Kei draws in a quick breath; he always gets a little nervous when entering a vacuum, consistently worried that he somehow failed to fully seal his space suit or did not notice a tear in its structure, compromising his ability for continued existence. Yet again, he survives the rigors of entering an infinite vacuum and his heart rate slows again. His eyes watch as the ship's winch system lifts his fighter off the apparatus floor's securing system and propels him forward, following a release... and he's free!

"Callus command, this is Callus-One. I am away, over." Kei cannot help but smile. Smile like nobody was watching - and they weren't. Smiling because he was alone, smiling because he was in command, smiling because he had no one to answer to but himself and the trials of unending, explorable space. Twisting left on the controls, he pulls the TIE into a single, tight corkscrew in a cunning display of his rapture.

In his mind, Kei considered pushing the TIE's engine to its comfortable limit, to accelerate outwards from its home ship before turning about and coming in for a bold rake run, risking his ship's left solar panel against the edge of Callus's shields as he careens past the gunnery viewport. What a surprise that would be!

It was good to be free.

Alas, horseplay was over with and the ensign pulls away from the command ship, making a trajectory for the asteroid belt.

"Callus-command, Callus-One, the water is fine... debris seems to be at a minimum at this distance... Communications are stable... I'd say there's little risk in edging her closer to the asteroid field for a field test on the gunnery station..." Reading the TAG sensors system, Kei attempts to discern a vector not so thick in debris. "...might try vector 22234 x-ray, 56373 yankee, 19989 zulu, over."

[Dent-2020]

2020 grinned at Ensign Fora's 'good hunting,' and turned to look at KL-03.

"Well, let's not keep the man waiting. Mind keeping an eye on the diagnostics, Ma'am? The targeting computer won't acquire the asteroids, so I'm sure my attention will be taken up enough as it is just with aiming."

He sighted out the viewport and selected a large rocky mass directly in front - nothing too challenging, for his first attempt. He hoped the debris left after the cannon hit wouldn't careen off and cause too great a trouble for Fora.

"Here goes." He fired.

The kick of the cannon rocked the gun's seat backward and 2020 felt the whole ship shudder slightly with the force of the energy blast. Outside the viewport, the void erupted with bright red light.

[roll0]

[Greymane]

Durrane's nasally, high coruscanti voice cracks over the comm from the bridge. "Roger, Callus-one, you are cleared for take-off."

"Callus command, this is Callus-One. I am away, over." And again, Durrane offered a simple affirmation to the pilot. "Roger, Callus-one."

The darkness of space enveloped Kei. Seemingly endless in every direction, the subtle twinkle of stars all around. One could almost get lost in wondering what lay just beyond each and every one of them. The distant sun provided more than enough light to navigate by, and more than enough power for the TIE/in to fly, and the small nearby planetoid did not seem to mind his presence.

2020's bright red blast from the quad laser cannon, despite his unfamiliarity with the weapon, hits a larger asteroid right on the mark. It shatters silently in the vacuum of space. The quad laser cannon appears to be functioning normally. Durrane's voice cracks over the comm. "Fine work, Sergeant. I trust nothing broke after the initial blast?"

Kei's TIE computer registers weapons fire behind him, as he darted his crafted into the asteroid field. It was densely packed, and the chunks of rock varied in size from speeder bikes to frigates. If Kei had been a lesser pilot, it's entirely possible this asteroid field would've proven too dangerous and damaged the ship in some way. He whips around for a minute or two easily, showing that despite the TIE's slack defenses, it was quite a maneuverable vehicle. However, it wasn't long before a flashing light on the communication console appeared.

There was a distress beacon, with very weak signal strength. Coming from a little further into the asteroid field. Emergency Code 0-4, requesting immediate aid from friendlies. It was a CIS signal.

[Redshaw]

Kei loses himself in that field, weaving and navigating the outer perimeter of the asteroid field like a child scrambling across rocks and, for a few moments, he knows pure joy.

Kei Fora, sir. I am here to apply for the Imperial Academy, sir.

Curling the underside of a speeder-sized asteroid, he immediately finds another celestial body the size of a building waiting for him to smash against its cold surface.

Coruscant, sir. My father served in the Clone Wars. Galactic Navy. I'd like to serve as well.

The rock face is left barren and disappointed as he utilizes the TIE's ionized gasses to propel him into a turn that would have likely broken Kei's neck had he tried it in an atmosphere.

I would think the reason is obvious, sir. Is there a political or military power more advanced than the Emperor's proudest that I was previously unaware of?

The red light of the distress beacon bathes the tight quarters of the TIE's oculus in its glow. Kei frowns in his mask as he begins attempting to pinpoint the beacon's exact location; a tricky task with all the interference of the asteroid field. "...Callus-One to Callus Command... I am detecting a distress beacon out here... incredibly weak... it's using a Separatist Confederacy transmission code... might be derelict... looks like it's coming from deeper in the field... investigating, over."

...yes, sir. The application is correct. I am eighteen, sir...

Kei seeks out the source of the distress signal in the field, wading his ship deep into the drudge of dangerous rocks.

[Henry the 57th]

Inquisitor Cia, who had been silently observing the tests from her seat on the ship's bridge, intervened the moment she heard what Ensign Kei had found over the comms. She activated her comm and sent her reply to the fighter. "Ensign, do not approach. Repeat: do not approach. An ancient beacon is not our mission and this could be anything. If it was alive at the Clone Wars, it's long since dead out here. If it's a droid, it's kept this long and can wait a bit longer. It could be a trap, and we do not have fighters to spare. Do not approach that beacon."

[Dent-2020]

2020 saw Ensign Fora dart off into the asteroid field, entering at a point near the prow of the ship, and leaned back in the gunner's seat, taking his hands off the controls.

"Well, I guess that's it for target practice." He murmured to KL-03, an edge of disappointment in his tone. Fora may not have entered the field directly in front of him, crossing the gun's sights, but he had no way of knowing where the officer was now or of predicting how the ricochets of any asteroids he managed to hit might ripple out through the field and influence Fora's test flight. "Not as though he had all of space on the starboard side of the ship to go play around in."

"Fine work, Sergeant. I trust nothing broke after the initial blast?" Durrane's voice crackled in 2020's comms.

2020 waited a beat to see if Durrane's fine work was followed by something nasty.

Good show, Sergeant. You've managed to demolish a mindless building-sized stationary target one klick in front of you. We can all sleep comfortably tonight. He mocked himself in Durrane's bored, nasal tones.

In reality, however, such snippy commentary never came. The longer 2020 spent in Durrane's company, the less he felt like he had a good read on the man. He seemed to be acrid and bad-tempered or perfectly reasonable by turns. And, although he still wouldn't trust the two of them standing next to each other in a firefight, the trip thus far between Durrane and Fora seemed to have been uneventful. He almost wondered if he had misjudged the Lieutenant.

You yelled at your men too, on occasion. He reminded himself.

"Thank you, Sir. We are fighting fit, as far as I can tell. I wouldn't mind trying out a few more shots once Ensign Fo--"

"...Callus-One to Callus Command... I am detecting a distress beacon out here... incredibly weak..." Fora's voice broke through 2020's report, keen and excited. "It's using a Separatist Confederacy transmission code... might be derelict... looks like it's coming from deeper in the field... investigating, over."


2020 sat back up in his seat, leaning forward and peering out the view screen, as though he could possibly​ see anything going on in the field from here.

Seppies? The war had been over for more than a decade - what could possibly still be signaling out here?

Though he was as curious as Fora about its origin, he agreed with Inspector Cia's assessment and was relieved when she sent out the stand-down. If the stories he had overheard in the barracks of the Marines were to be believed, there were a lot of debris left floating after the cease-fire; it made good pickings for smugglers, pirates, and scavengers, and many of the ships had been left booby-trapped for anyone unfortunate enough to arrive late to the party.

And Fora was alone out there.

I said come back alive, damn you.

[Redshaw]

Kei frowns as Cia's orders crackle inside the tight quarters of his fighter. The Inquisitor's decision was sound - it's true that investigating distress signals was not his mission. But was it not the duty of every Imperial citizen to seek out order in the galaxy? Furthermore, the use of Confederacy codes did not necessarily mean derelict; out on the fringe there were still a few shipping companies that used those old frequencies for intergalactic communication. Finally, an ambush in an asteroid field...? Well, that was a worthy concern. Kei had dealt with pirates enough to know they preyed well on the good sensibilities of others.

Despite that, leaving the signal unattended left a sour taste in his mouth. Even if they returned after the mission, the signal might have died by then and anyone that could theoretically be helped now would no longer be savable.

Clucking his tongue with annoyance, Kei begins weaving his way in an arc back toward the Callus... though he takes a rather scenic route through the asteroid field to do it, hoping to catch visual contact of the distress beacon's source. "Callus-One copies, command. Returning to berth, over."

[roll0]

[Greymane]

Kei looks around him for the source of the signal, and he thinks he catches a glimpse of what looks like a large ship's hull, but it was only a particularly smooth portion of an asteroid. The floating rocks and blinking light on his comm console offer him no new insight as to the source of the distress signal. He weaves about and lollygags a bit on his way back to the Callus, but it seems Kei would need to go further into the field to find the source, away from the ship. Unless he does so, he returns to the Wayfarer transport without incident.

[Redshaw]

Kei does a double take, his frown deepening. It was unusual for his eyes to trick him and this whole situation stank. A bad feeling, they called it. Despite the nagging sensation that he needed to explore more thoroughly, Kei was not willing to push his luck with the Inquisitor's patience. Besides, the Callus' scanners were more advanced than his.

"...Callus One to Callus Command: requesting a full sensor suite work-up, active and passive scans... as well as trajectory course based on my position... the asteroid field is inhibiting the sensors... may have better luck with a closer position, over."

Lining up the TIE with the Wayfarer class, he begins slowly honing in on the the ship's apparatus bay, "...Callus One requesting permission to dock, over."

[Greymane]

Durrane's voice came over the comm in response to Kei. "Callus Command to Callus One, will take request for sensor sweeps under advisement." The lieutenant turns to look at Inquisitor Cia. "Permission to dock is granted, Callus One."

[Henry the 57th]

Inquisitor Cia nodded at Lieutenant Durrane's glance, but said nothing as the docking began. This represented a chance for the lieutenant to prove his basic competence at direction and demonstrate his "revised" attitude. She did nothing but passively observe during the ship's re-entry.

When the fighter was safely stowed and the Ensign back aboard the bridge, Cia spoke up. "Satisfactory, on both counts. Admirable initiative shown in repairing our craft. I feel this is an auspicious start to our mission. But we do have the luxury of dawdling in an asteroid belt forever. Ensign Kei, set our course for Bakura with all due speed."

[Dent-2020]

2020 watched Fora's fighter pop out of the asteroid field apparently unscathed and felt relief course through him in a way that almost felt unaccountable - had he been that worried?

He left the gunner's seat and walked out into the cargo hold. Once the forward hatch closed and atmosphere returned to the hangar bay, he watched Fora complete his docking procedures.

"Do you think it was really someone who required help, Sir?" He asked, following the ensign toward the bridge.

[Redshaw]

Stepping out of his fighter, Kei unseals his suit's vacuum and removes his helmet. Warmth began returning to his body and it was pleasant: starship's utilizing fusion engines were characteristically hot, since there was nowhere else for the heat output to be displaced, and life support is what kept temperatures to a reasonable coolness. The opposite occurred with ion engines and without life support; he had only his pressurized suit to protect him from the absolute lack of heat in space and while it was survivable it less than pleasant.

Helmet clutched under his arm, the ensign nods at 2020 as he moves past the clone towards the bridge, "Maybe. Doesn't matter what I think though, Twenty-twenty. Orders are orders and we do have a mission." He almost sighs with resigned defeat as he says the words; it's true that the unanswered distress beacon was going to gnaw on him for the remainder of this mission, but that would have to be put aside.

Entering the bridge, the ensign offers a salute to his superiors before taking his place at the helm, prepping the ship's engines to reengage the hyperdrive, "Coordinates, if you please, Lieutenant."

[Greymane]

The lieutenant offers neutrally indignant glare to young Ensign Fora, before making his way from the communications console to the navicomputer. "Coordinates set, ready to go to hyperspace. We should be off the Corellian Trade Spine and on to the Sanctuary Pipeline, given our class 2 hyperdrive, in the next few days." The computer beeps in affirmation, and the stars streak by them until the world outside the canopy is a long blue tunnel.

Velorus nods at Cia, and then leaves the bridge once again, returning to the quiet haven of the captain's quarters.


http://img4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20071218123045/starwars/images/e/e8/Bakura.jpg

It takes seven long days, but the rest of the trip is uneventful. The Callus emerges from the blue glowing sanctuary of hyperspace just over the planet itself, with a familiar bit of turbulence as the ship enters normal space. A blue and green orb can be seen outside the canopy of the bridge, with two rocky moons orbiting around it. At last, it seems you've arrived to the planet Bakura. The lieutenant's voice rings out over the comm system "All hands, we've arrived at our destination. I repeat, we've arrived in the Bakura System."

Lieutenant Tarrick Durrane is on the bridge of the ship, his normally immaculate uniform has been replaced with a more casual, civilian outfit. He's dressed in a loose white tunic, with a brown vest over it, matching white trousers and sturdy brown boots. His short black hair is still slicked back neatly, while he still sports his trimmed mustache. A utility belt is wrapped around his waist, and a blaster pistol is holstered at his left hip. He waits patiently at restful attention for the rest to gather, and for his orders from his superior.

[Redshaw]

Kei spent the week in quiet study. Besides regular drills and daily cleaning of the ship, Kei kept mostly to himself. Free time was spent reading through the book on Ascendancy, performing diagnostics tests on the speeders in the hangar bay, to ensure they were in working order, and dallying with his engine designs. Despite the slight feelings of guilt over ignoring the distress beacon, by the end of the week he found himself quite anxious and eager to arrive on Bakura; so much that he spent a worthy amount of time researching as much as he could on the planet itself. He was almost pleased to hear Durrane's voice on the intercom when the news finally came.

Gather Information check on Bakura

[roll0]

The ensign abandoned his flight suit for more suitable clothes. Brown leggings and black boots with a white linen shirt, tool belt, and a nerf hide leather jacket was a suitable disguise for a well-tailored merchant. Most likely to the lieutenant's chagrin, he'd allowed his facial hair to grow in over the week, generating an effective stubble on his handsome face. He looks himself over in the mirror before nodding satisfactorily and finishing the outfit by placing a brown flat cap a top his head.

Making his way to the bridge, he salutes the lieutenant sharply and takes his proper place at the helm and begins plotting a course to enter the green planet's atmosphere. Before he opens the communications however, he speaks loudly enough for a superior to hear, "Shall I hail Salis D'aar's air control or are we intent on an outlying district?"

[Dent-2020]

2020 sat in the crew lounge and mulled over the events of the asteroid field as he compulsively field stripped his E-11. Fora had been right; orders were orders, but 2020 had rarely been given pause by orders before. He wasn't sure why Lord Cia's decision had begun to weigh upon him so heavily over the course of the week. He was certain hers had been the right call; their mission objective was paramount, Fora would have been trapped in the field beyond the reach of Callus' aid had the emergency signal been the source of a trap or an ambush, and a Separatist signal seemed far more likely to belong to a derelict from the War than it did to backwater merchants in need.

Still, he wondered how a ship in need might have come to require aid in that field in the first place. Scenarios played out constantly in his mind's eye. Had their hyperdrive malfunctioned, dropping them out in the center of the asteroid field, where they were incapable of maneuvering to safety? Had they been chased in amongst the asteroids and their ship damaged? How long would their rations, their water, their air last? How long would they have heat? His dreams were warped visions of death aboard a drifting vessel in space, ice creeping in around the edges of the vessel as the crew huddled together and waited for help that wouldn't come.

He had never had to signal a red zero before - a top-priority request for immediate evacuation. There had never been the chance before. Ground ops went wrong often, but they went wrong fast. One minute you're having a nice stroll through the fetid oppressive heat of the jungle, and the next you're surrounded on all sides, the sky is raining fire, and half your friends are dead. There was no time to call for help. There was no time to even think of who might come to your aid.

He supposed that was what was bothering him. Death, in his experience, had always been sudden, and the provence of an identifiable foe. He could fight it off. He could fight, and run, and he could save himself and his friends if luck was on their side. He couldn't imagine just having to sit tight and wait for it. The thought was horrifying.

When Durrane's announcement of their arrival at Bakura came, it was a relief. He could return his mind to other topics. He met with the others on the bridge of the ship and found himself looking down upon a a mid-sized blue and green planet.

It was hard to tell from this view where they would be landing or what the terrain would look like. His mind kept running through his knowledge of temperate forest terrain, likely sources of water, local edible flora and fauna - all of his knowledge as a scout would be nearly useless, moving through the city on Bakura or waiting for the fun to start on board the Callus.

An urban op. A space op. What was he doing here?

"Will we send an escort in to cover KL-03 until she's inserted?"

[Henry the 57th]

Inquisitor Cia had spent her spare time indulging in her favored pastimes - immersing herself in the power of the Force, and killing imaginary enemies in lightsaber training. Her blade still cried out for her to use it in battle, but she had yet to succumb to the urge. When she entered the bridge, it was in casual spacer clothing - long black pants, a white tank top, a dull orange leather jacket on top, and worn field boots on her feat. Her utility belt remained where it always was, but her saber was tucked nicely into a hidden pocket inside her jacket.

She gazed imperially around the bridge for a few moments before answering the Ensign. "Put us down in Salis D'aar. I don't want our ship far away in the event that something goes wrong."

[Redshaw]

"Yes, my lord." The Callus begins to rumble slightly as she enters Bakura's upper atmosphere. With a click of the console, Kei begins hailing the capital's air control, "Salis D'aar, this is the Callus, requesting permission for coach priority landing." Submitting the appropriate codes over the channel, Kei cannot think of any reason why they might not be confused for anything besides simple traders.

[Greymane]

A young male voice responds to Kei's transmission. "Roger, Callus, this is Salis D'aar port authority. Your transponder codes seem in order, you're cleared for landing on dock A-6. Customs Officer Diarmit will greet you on arrival. Welcome to Bakura."

Entering the atmosphere of the planet, the controls become a great deal rougher. Apparently this class of ship was not very aerodynamic, but Ensign Fora suffers no real difficulties. One beyond the cloud-cover, the city of Salis D'aar can be seen rushing up to meet you as the ship descends. The city has been built in an enormous circular pattern, with the outter, middle, and center parts of the city apparently color-coded. The outer city is lit and colored in red, the middle yellow, and the center of the city in a blue-white. It certainly sticks out from an aerial point of view. Speeders can be seen racing along, and there's more than a few people out and about. Reminiscent of a smaller district on Coruscant.

The spaceport is located in the center area of the city, a large permacrete building with at least twenty docking areas, many of them filled already with various freighters. People can bee seen going about their business, loading droids are also at work carrying crates and other cargo to and from ships. A lone figure can be seen waiting near the landing pad marked A-6.

The Callus comes down to hover above the landing platform, before coming down to rest on the ground. The hydraulics make a hissing sound as it does so. Cia turns around. "Time to mingle with the natives, then." She eyes all of you with a critical eye. "Do your best not to march and stand at attention while we're out here. We don't want to break our cover unless absolutely necessary." The chiss woman then begins to head towards the airlock, with Durrane not far behind her. She presses a button on the nearby console, and there is a gust of wind as outside air makes its way into the ship. The air is fresh and clean, though there is a subtle hint of oil to accompany it. The sound and sight of loading droids and power loaders scurrying about greets you as you step out of the ship, as well as the fast-paced hum of nearby speeder traffic. A walkway extends out of the ship, and down the several feet to the ground, and Cia crosses it and moves to engage the waiting customs officer in conversation.

The man, wearing a dull blue uniform, is holding a datapad and barely looks up at Cia as he presses into it busily. "Importing or exporting?" He asks abruptly and with all the emotional inflection of a droid. "Exporting." Cis responds quickly. "Market?" the man asks. "Namana liquor." She replies. "Very well. There's a fifty credit docking fee per day, or an equivalent in trade goods, if you do not deal with credits." Cia's face contorts into irritation, but she produces a credit chip and transfers the sum.

"Great. If there are any further issues, or questions on restricted trade goods, do contact our office. Enjoy your stay on Bakura." And with that, the man turns about, and begins walking towards the main building of the space port.

Cia turns to address the rest of you. "That awful bit is taken care of. We need to locate one of the corporate buildings. Suggestions on the most expedient method?"

[Dent-2020]

2020 stared hungrily out the viewscreen as the ship descended, taking in the details of the city - the first he had ever before seen - as they came into focus. The color-coded segmentation of the landscape was neat and orderly in appearance, and the strict organization reminded him uncomfortably of the training stations of the Kaminoans. Clean, disciplined, efficient.

He wondered what the colors of the city's rings here represented. The Kaminoans had used color to denote rank amongst their cloned soldiers - rank being inextricably tied in their minds to individual genetics. Colors had meant up-regulation of certain proteins, and down-regulation of others. Colors meant augmentation, behavioral parameters, training styles, weapons proficiencies, even caloric allotments. 2020 and his batch-mates had never given much thought to the differences; some guys were just less-expendable than others, and those guys got better training, heavier armor, and sweeter weapons. They didn't question it, but they had all known what wearing certain colors had meant; privilege.

Was it the same here? What did civilian privilege mean? Power? Wealth? Prestige? Better clothes, better transports, better houses, better education, better jobs?

"D'you suppose being from Blue makes you better than folks from Red, or is it just a..." He searched for the appropriate civilian phrase "...fashion statement?"

Here was the real concern, though: the Bakurans appeared to have gone to quite the effort to make sure people knew not only where they were, but possibly also what class they belonged to, or what area they were from - how difficult was it going to be to move between sections, should that become necessary?

He watched uneasily as Ensign Fora directed the ship to a spaceport in the Blue sector, at the center of the city. They made landfall with a hydraulic hiss as the large ship settled under the planet's force of gravity.

As they left the ship, Lord Cia's admonition to avoid blowing their cover by behaving too soldierly gave him pause; it was one thing to say, and another to do. He jammed his helmet onto his head and followed her down the ship's ramp and out into the spaceport, standing at the base of the ship, ready to cover a hasty exit should that be indicated. He gave the station attendant meeting with Lord Cia a surreptitious glance and attempted to mimic his posture. It seemed to involve feigning to carry a load 20 kilos heavier than whatever you actually had on you, and behaving as though you had been burdened by this for several hours already. He let his muscles hang from his bones, rounding his shoulders forward. The position seemed to close his chest and push his abdomen forward, shifting his center of gravity. It was absurdly uncomfortable and he fell back out of it almost immediately.

He wasn't supposed to be just some civilian in any case, he realized - not with this kit strapped to him. Everyone who gave him a sideways glance was going to see a big gun and a faceless helmet, so that was who he needed to be to them. A hired gun.

He pictured Seargeant Kote in his mind's eye and shifted his weight over his forward leg, spreading his feet slightly, as though primed to fight or run. He rested his hand absently on the stock of his E-11, and when he moved forward as Lord Cia turned away from the station agent, it was with a subtle swagger that suggested your head will leave your body before you know I'm here.

"That awful bit is taken care of. We need to locate one of the corporate buildings. Suggestions on the most expedient method?"

2020 gave a quick glance around and casually pointed with his chin to the retreating back of the customs agent. "The locals are usually the best source of intel in enemy territory. We could try simply asking someone - I doubt the street address for a large exporter is a state secret, M---" He barely cut himself off in time before advertising her title.

[Redshaw]

Kei is the last to withdraw from the ship, ensuring its power systems are put to sleep and its security systems set in place. Closing the loading ramp behind him, he takes up the rear with the rest of the crew, just catching the Inquisitor's question. His brow furrowed, he glances at Durrane before speaking. The last week had proven... unusually pleasant. Perhaps it was the close quarters of the ship and stayed the lieutenant's usually violent tongue and hand, but Kei suspected there was something more to it than that. Durrane was afraid of something... most likely the Chiss. The thought of that churned Kei's stomach; he would have preferred to manage the officer in his own way, not relying on this Imperial ghost.

Still, there were advantages to having a longer leash, "That information should be retrievable right here in the shipping district. A corporate shipping company like our target's will most likely have its own private hangar purchased that should be staffed around the clock. Its physical location should be open to the public sector even if its gates are not... I would imagine someone at shipping headquarters can inform us." He shrugs and then takes note of Twenty-Twenty's posturing, which causes a small smile to crack the ensign's expression. "If we're lucky... we might not even need to detour to a corporate office... then again, we might just want to take the extra trip there anyway."

He taps his chin as his thoughts continue, "...we have a number of ways going about this. First, we might attempt to buy the droid's way onto the ship. Enough credits into the right hands can turn a blind eye. Another option is to have our... bodyguard," he gestures to Twenty-Twenty as he says this, "Reconnoiter the grounds in a subtle fashion and find a way for us to sneak our ghost-in-the-machine with none the wiser. Perhaps one of the cargo containers. Of course, then we'd have to find a way to falsify the shipping manifest."

His brow furrows as he considers further possibilities "Both have their own risks."

[roll0]

[Greymane]

Cia purses her dark blue lips as she listens to 2020 and Kei give their suggestions. "I've already used what little money I had here. Bribery is likely out of the question unless we want to begin trading our speeders away." Her red eyes squint ponderously at the idea, but she shakes her head.

Durrane, quiet until now, nods, though reluctantly, at Kei. "The latter idea especially has merit." He casts a critical eye at 2020. "We could certainly do with having our soldier perform something he's comfortable with, and if he's noticed or captured, we can disavow knowledge of him easily enough." the lieutenant glances at 2020, with the barest hint of a sneer.

KL-03 chirps up in binary. The loose wire sparks as she does so. "And if I can gain access to the shipping records, it should be a trivial task for me to edit them to our liking."

"We'll leave off going to the corporate office for the time being. As curious as I am about what is going on there, and how Velorus unhappily mentioned it was 'being taken care of', if we don't have a mission-specific reason for going there beyond reconnaissance, it might be considered an unwise use of our time."

"2020. Fora. Find out where the docking area for one of the corporations is at. Which one is unimportant, so use your own discretion. When one is located, return here to the Callus, Fora. 2020 will scope the dock, and report on its defenses, apparent cargo, and personnel." Cia casts a leveled gaze at the lieutenant. "Durrane. Find the market, and purchase several cases of namana liquor." Tarrick's brow furrows in confusion. "We might as well keep the appearance of traders." Durrane very nearly salutes, but manages to stop himself. "KL and I will remain here for now."

"If there are no questions, get going."

While you're not as familiar with space ports outside of Imperial jurisdiction, there is precedent to have a ship's astromech droid replaced, or to have a second one assigned if it's believed the mission or job will require the use of more than one.

[Dent-2020]

2020 nodded his acknowledgment at the conclusion of Lord Cia's orders, already envisioning the broader strokes of his task. The HUD systems (such as they were) in his helmet were scuppered, but he still had a good scope he could use for surveillance if he could find a decent vantage point. Once he ventured beyond the confines of the spaceport and located the docking areas for the corporations, he'd be able to tell if any of the surrounding buildings would be suitable. From there, it would likely be just another long afternoon huddled in a cramped position, sighting on activity in the area and pretending his left foot didn't itch. Business as usual.

And, as the Lieutenant said, if he was compromised while working alone, the rest of them could certainly hang him out to dry without necessarily scrapping the mission. It was an aspect of his life that 2020 was accustomed to, and normally wouldn't be too chuffed by... except that Durrane had clearly intended those to be fighting words. He cued in on Durrane's use of the word comfortable, eyes narrowed. Was he still feeling pissy over the quad cannon?

Fine. He knows best? The next time I've got pertinent intel, I oughtta let him kriffing swing.


“Yeah, I'll be fine on a bit of recce. It seems that... everyone... has a task to which they're best suited.” 2020 said with a deadpan that had found plenty of practice in the ranks of the training station at Rishi. His gaze behind his visor was fixed upon the Liutenant’s sneer.

He turned back to Lord Cia. "My unit des could attract the wrong sort of attention in mixed company. I'll answer to Ad'eta as long as we're off-ship, if that's okay. Do we have an alternate RV point if any of us can't make it back here?" He asked, his mind tracking back to those neatly colored concentric rings that defined the city sectors, and the problems they might represent to movement.

[Redshaw]

Kei watches the quiet stand off between 2020 and the lieutenant and immediately felt a pang of empathy for the clone, feeling briefly united in a similar cause of distaste for short-sighted Durrane. He clears his throat, boldness in the face of the lieutenant becoming more common place than ever before in his career, "I don't believe there are any questions..." Kei does not finish the statement with a title, not out of lack of respect, but for duty to character and mission. He fingers his comlink, "We'll be in touch. Imperial channels only, of course."

He gestures to the clone to lead the way off the landing pad, "We've only just arrived... Ad'eta... and we're not even sure about the location of the hangar yet, let alone an RV; let's gather some more information, see if we can't figure out more than a single way in or out, along with anything else we can pick up. Like you said, for intelligence, look to the locals."

[Dent-2020]

2020's attention was only partly on Lord Cia and the task at hand as he asked his question, the greater portion still sizing Durrane up in his peripheral vision. When Sergeant Li'itan had intentionally hacked his cadets off, it was because he had wanted them to come back at him swinging. He'd taunt the boys with all sorts of nonsense - that they were defective, made in a bad batch, that the Seppies would have won if their vats had only been cracked a decade sooner - laying it on until one or more of the clones decided they had had enough and tried to take a swipe at him. For Alor'Li, it always took too long; he claimed that training the clones to assert themselves was far harder than teaching them to fall in line.

2020 was nearly positive that the Lieutenant wasn't looking for a smack in the face the way the Mando's he'd known would be, but perhaps the light resistance offered by 2020's verbal sparring would be enough to let the man know that he wouldn't be bullied.

Or maybe he'll just try to smack you down harder.

Either way, a week of living in close quarters with Durrane had confirmed 2020's suspicion that the Lieutenant wasn't the sort to lead a hearts and minds campaign with his men.

Ensign Fora, on the opposite spectrum, seemed to have developed a protective streak towards him, to which 2020 had no idea how to react - it was thus far foreign territory between an Imperial officer and himself. Stymied for the moment, he allowed himself to be steered away from Durrane's menacing glower as he turned to head for the dock exit.

"Copy that." He said, nodding his compliance to Fora's informal orders, hiding his nerves behind a facade of bland obedience - it was hard not to be anxious about a lack of alternate exit strategies with Durrane dropping hints that leaving the planet a few crew lighter would give him no greater joy.

It wasn't as though 2020 expected anything less - the mission had to come first - but still, most guys didn't rub it in.

Although he understood the logic of the Ensign's thoughts, 2020's gut still churned; he was used to working with contingency orders. They were so woven into the fabric of the army that the old GAR had had 150 of them. From the time he had entered Command training to when he had been unceremoniously pulled from it, the importance of a good backup plan or five had been impressed upon him. The running joke amongst the boys in his batch had been that that was the reason that Arubesh had so many letters - so you could have plans Aru through Zerek. Apparently, the navy worked differently, though.

No plan B? Best make plan A work then, hadn't you mir'sheb? Suck it up and get to work.

Pausing as they reached the hangar doors, he removed his helmet long enough to slot one of the Callus's spare comm units into the waiting port inside it and flipped the link over to the Imperial frequency Fora had indicated before shoving the assembly back on again. He toyed with activating and deactivating the comm through the manual control at his left ear - the process felt fiddly and unfamiliar compared to the series of rapid eye blinks utilized by the helmet HUDs he had used all his life, but he would manage. He'd have to.

Satisfied, he left the landing pad and stepped into the Salis D'aar spaceport.

[Greymane]

Cia nods impassively at 2020. "Ad'eta is fine, and not using your designation is pragmatic. As Ensign Fora said, we don't have an alternative rendezvous point, as we're unfamiliar with the territory." The lieutenant directed an irritated look at the clone and the young ensign, but then put a professional one on as he turned to Cia. "I'll return as quickly as possible with our cargo, then." While Durrane is forced to travel in the same direction as both Kei and 2020, he pulls out a datapad and begins interacting with it, largely ignoring both of his subordinates.

The sounds of labor droids and power loaders falls away as Kei and 2020 exit the landing pad and enter the more enclosed section of the space port. Glowing lights, suspended in mid-air by repulsor technology, keep the interior lit. The hallways are pristine and white, reminiscent of the sterile environs found in many Imperial installations and ships, with plenty of plasteel windows showing the landing pad you just exited, and allowing some natural light to shine through into the immaculate halls. Civilians and blue uniformed men walk about their business, as do protocol droids and the odd astromech. Durrane quickly begins engaging one of the uniformed men in conversation, asking for directions, who quickly point him in a direction that would exit the docking headquarters altogether.

There are signs, also floating in the air from repulsorlifts, that seem to indicate what departments are where. Customs, Security, Administration, Traffic Control, the exit, and many others. The lieutenant is headed towards the exit.

[Dent-2020]

2020 eyed the pristine white walls of the spaceport warily, feeling his palms grow slick with perspiration. The Kaminoans had liked to decorate the halls of their cities with UV spectrum designs that were, supposedly, very aesthetically pleasing, but all that had registered with the human rods and cones of 2020's eyes were the stark white backgrounds. The spaceport suddenly seemed uncomfortably familiar, and for a brief unguarded moment he was overcome by the sensation that he was walking through the halls of Rishi Station, a bittersweet dread filling him at the thought that he was being watched and evaluated for quality control, but that if he rounded the next corner he'd run into Demo and Sev, alive and whole, on their way to the parade ground.

He began scanning the people roaming the corridor and the signs floating overhead for anything that seemed likely to lead them to their quarry, hoping for a badge on a uniform or something like Exports, Freight, or even Private - No Entry to jump out at him, with the idea foremost in his mind that the sooner he scouted a dock reserved for Bakur Repulsorcorp or Arden Repulsorlift, the sooner they could leave.

[roll0]

[Greymane]

2020 notices that the signs flash, and their contents change. They cycle through three different screens over the course of about 10 seconds, each giving a vague direction to an office or department of some sort. Independent Exports and Off-planet Transport indicates the way you you just came. Of note, however, 2020's keen eyes happen to notice that one of the directions is labeled Private Business Exports, pointing to the east. Going in that same direction is a man in a grey and blue uniformed combat vest, sporting a square badge with a large B in the background with a sunrise, and Repulsorcorp in the foreground. He is plainly armed with a stun baton and a blaster pistol at his hip.

Also of note are directions to a cantina to the north west, a Rest Area also to the north west, and Senatorial Import and Export to the west.

[Redshaw]

Following the clone's lead, Kei focuses on not walking with the straight-legged military posture beaten into him on Carida. It was more difficult than he expected. He didn't just need a walk, though; he needed a character. A nomes de crime. Here on Bakura, he was not Ensign Kei Fora, the isolated son of a surgeon and a bureaucrat; last amongst his peers and untested in combat.

No, he was a merchant; a rogue trader of, what was it, namana liquor? Namana was not just an alcoholic beverage, it was an addiction. As he understood it, the drink would not just provide its imbiber with the pleasant haze of inebriation, but accompany it with, on humanoid species, a chemically-induced euphoria. Its merchant must be as legitimate and dangerous as the product itself.

Jim Korso. A Corellian. A privateer. Rough and well-liked. A captain. Memories of his time spent in almost-voluntary captivity with illegal pirates came flooding back into his usually focused mind. His thoughts drifted; daring gunfights, undiscovered civilizations, courage and romance.

His hand lifts to rub his neck, finger tips scratching against the stubble steadily growing there. His shoulders keep wide but his legs grow less straight and his arms begin swinging in time with his steps.

Relaxed. Confidant. In control.

Jecht Wessiri. That was the name of a man in control.

[Dent-2020]

"Passing Tango" 2020 muttered, his voice pitched just loud enough for Fora to hear, indicating the East-bound security guard with a quick jerk of his head. "Kitted out in Bakur gear, likely heading to work."

He thought back quickly to the details of the briefing Lord Velorus had provided aboard the Guardian, days before, and double-checked them against the Bakur employee. "Light armor and ordnance. Just a stun baton and blaster pistol - Intel was good. We ought to bring them back something special to mark the occasion." He said wryly.

"How do you want to proceed?" He asked. They didn't have a large enough team between the two of them to pull off zoned surveillance, but the space port seemed active enough that they could probably hide fairly well in the moving crowd if they wanted to tail their mark. Although... "These civvies might thin out a bit as we get closer to the Private Exports area." He said, thinking aloud. "Could be exposed. Might do better If I can find a quiet corner on a roof or in an office overlooking their hanger to sight from once we find their dock."

[Redshaw]

Twenty-Twenty's voiced vigilance reigns in the ensign's rampant imagination; this wasn't the first time his mind needed to be called back in to focus. This tendency of his had once been amusing to Iroqouis, who regularly caught him day-dreaming during the dry classes on Carida, but quickly became a nuisance for her; where she would once gently tug him out of reverie soon developed to sharp palm to the back of his head. Still, she never faltered once in that duty.

Kei's eyes dark eyes snap in the direction of the security guard, soaking in the details of the man, and then glance upward at the zone indicator. "We proceed with both caution and candor; keep within distant stride of the guard, but if attention is drawn on us, do not panic. We are, after all, legitimate traders, seeking to expand our... enterprise. He should lead us to the appropriate hangar."

He clears his throat now and when he speaks again, it is no longer with the elegant, lilting accent of a Coruscant noble, but the flat and bold tone of a Corellian homeworlder. "Furthermore, Ad'eta, if we are questioned, you will refer to me as... Captain Jecht Wesirri. You are my bodyguard." Kei tries not to smile at the self-promotion.

Kei will follow the security guard indicated by Twenty-Twenty at a distance, but makes no attempt to hide himself.

[Dent-2020]

"Yes, Captain Wessiri." 2020 said, committing the name to memory. He wondered at the Ensign's change of accent. Fora and Durrane normally spoke alike, with a Coruscanti accent that was common enough among the Empire's officers. He'd heard it occasionally at his first station on Lok, for the brief few months he had been assigned there, but it had been far rarer on Felucia. He supposed this must be because Coruscant's upper echelon could afford to pay their way out of such a truly miserable posting. He thought he recognized Fora's new tone as well; some of the enlisted troopers had spoken a bit like that, but 2020 didn't know where it came from. He had never bothered to ask - had always thought they would be dead soon enough, and so might he, so who really cared where they were from? He hoped it wasn't the sort of thing a civilian bodyguard might need to know about his employer.

At Fora's direction 2020 began to follow their mark, trailing slightly behind and to the right of the young Ensign. Watching him stride confidently through the spaceport set 2020's teeth on edge, and he couldn't help but wonder at the Ensign's apparent brazenness - could Fora's judgement really be trusted here, or was this just the tenacity of inexperience?

When 2020 and his batch-mates had begun their live-fire training, they had taken risks that they would never take again. Each of them had carried out their missions without a thought to their own safety, or even the safety of their brothers. They had been excited more than they had been scared, riding a high that insisted nothing bad could possibly happen to them. They were too good, too well-trained, too strong, too fast, too smart, and too perfect for that bolt to find them. The Kaminoans only made the best, after all. But everybody's got a bolt waiting for them somewhere, 2020 had come to find, and no matter how good you are, it only takes one bad day. The lesson had been learned well before the end of the day, when they had returned to empty bunks in squad rooms that used to be full.

2020's Sergeants had burned the inexperience out of him with the barrel of a rifle, but had anyone carved it from Fora yet?

The whole line of thought was subversive, and not for the first time 2020 was left with the uncomfortable suspicion that there must be something defective about him. He had never questioned his superiors like this before he had left Rishi, and he couldn't think of any other clones who had either.

In spite of himself, he couldn't help but be reticent. Fora, you better not pick today to start being stupid.

[Greymane]

2020 and Kei keep their distance and follow the uniformed man down the pristine white hallways. His pace is lax and unhurried, almost bored. He pays no attention to either of you. The man travels to the east, and you pass by several offices as you trail him. After a short minute, you and your quarry come to a cross-section that splits off into four more dirctions, the hallways still going in an easterly direction, with a helpful repulsor-powered sign to act as a guide.

Bakur RepulsorCorp Exports Office and Departures
Torphin Foods Offices
Arden Repulsorlift Exports Office and Departures
Yatari Celestial Mining Operations

The armed man in uniform you've been tailing goes to the northeast hallway, marked for Bakur RepulsorCorp, and into a large doorway into an office. Waving and giving a greeting to a similarly uniformed man standing just outside the doorway.

The hallways marked for Torphin Foods and Yatari Celestial Mining Operations do not have an armed guard standing outside their entrances, but the one in front of Arden Repulsorlift does.

[Redshaw]

Kei watches the exchange from a distance, his brow furrowing. He turns to speak with Twenty-Twenty privately, "We are in luck; it seems our targets share similar hangar realty." He taps his chin thoughtfully, "We might try to find a back-way on to the grounds through the perimeter of one of the unguarded hangars; that is a task toward which you are more specialized. However, as difficult getting you in might be, your extrication is just as paramount. Don't get caught."

Kei taps his chin as the gears in his mind continue to turn, "You need to find a way to sneak in our droid and a place to hide it so that it will be taken off-world; either hangar will do, but let's start with Bakur Repulsor Corps. I'll take a step into the office and see if I can't discover the next departure times, ship i.d.'s, security flaws... I might also be able to help make a distraction for you if I see the opportunity..."

The officer stands straight and makes as if to stride off, his orders made clear, but stops himself. Insubordination, read TC-167/2020's record. But Kei had seen true insubordination; he might even be accused of being a regular practitioner. And while he did see occasional sparks of rebellion in the clone's eyes and tone, they were never out of maliciousness so much as they were out of self and mission-preservative uncertainty; a flavor of "insubordination" he shared.

You're a naval officer. Not a spy. You need help.

Kei regards Twenty-Twenty once more before tentatively asking, "...what do you think?"

[Dent-2020]

Beneath the facial shield of his helmet, 2020's eyebrows rose up to his hairline in undisciplined surprise at Fora's question.

"I... I like it. Sir." He said. Then, casting an eye to the guards standing outside the doorways for Bakur and Arden, "Just a thought, Sir, but...If we could lure one, or both, of these men from their posts, we could get our hands on a uniform to might make our infiltration easier. Keycards too, I suspect. Might be worth it." He scuffed the toe of his boot against the floor before deciding to continue. "Also might consider sabotaging their current nav droid while I'm in to recce the hangar. If I could fry the thing while I'm gathering intel, they might not even question it if KL-03 rolled through the doorway later as a replacement. I mean, who really questions a tinnie? They'd just be glad to be back on schedule for their launch, wouldn't they?"

[Redshaw]

Kei clucks his tongue and shakes his head at the clone's first suggestion; a very similar idea had crossed his mind as well. "Public hours. Private sector security - everyone knows everyone in their crew, I imagine. Even if we could find a way of luring them from their posts and disabling them discreetly silently, I doubt we'd make it very far past that."


His eyebrows perk, however, as the clone continues, "There's definitely a precedent for outsourcing droids in the case of an emergency... though there's a good chance that they'd have spares. I'll see if I can't set up to "sell" KL-03 while inside. Or at least have her available." He nods his head in affirmation of the plan.

"Remember our duty to the Empire. Do what you have to do, but try to avoid unnecessary deaths. Good hunting, Twenty-Twenty."

[Dent-2020]

2020 tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Think I'll try the Mining hangar first, Sir." He said with a grin. "With a bit of luck, they'll connect, and who knows what those boys might leave lying around."

And I don't look like much of a greengrocer. He thought wryly.

"I'll be monitoring your comms, if you need anything, Sir. Good luck."

He headed towards the doorway for Yatari Celestial Mining Operations, floating palaces filled with remote detonators, blast tape, and heavy drilling equipment filling his mind's eye. Demo would have known better what to do with anything he might run into in there, but 2020 had always been more opportunistic and resourceful. He'd figure something out.

[Greymane]

http://www.guatacrazynight.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/futuristic-office-design-Futuristic-Office-Design-Office.jpg

The office was as bright white here as the rest of the complex had been. The subtle scent of oil could barely be detected here, implying dirtier conditions lurked not far away. There were a few chairs to 2020's immediate right, surrounding a small repulsor-powered table that hovers silently. To the left are a set of three holo-images supported on white cylinders a meter tall and half a meter wide. Pictures of Bakura and its surrounding moons feature prominently, as does a large cargo ship launching off to two important-looking human men shaking hands in the foreground.

In front of him is a large half-rectangle front desk emblazoned with a stylized "Y", there are two durasteel doors behind it, separated from each other by a meter. The one on the right is smaller and has a name plate next to it, while the other one is double its size, and lacks anything to hint at what might be behind it but the tracks of old dirt and grease on the floor at its base.

Behind the desk sits a mousy young woman with hastily-tied-back brown hair, diligently working at a computer console. She does not notice your presence right away, but after a moment her gaze darts to 2020 and her eyes widen. "Oh, hello, sir! Welcome to Yatari Mining!" A look of slight confusion dawns on her face as she examines the clone's appearance. "How... can I help you?" a perky smile plasters itself on her face, and her tone is enthusiastic. "Are you a spacer looking for work?"

[Dent-2020]

2020 took in the austere appearance of the lobby area as he entered, evaluating each of the room's exits out of long habit. The door he'd entered through had at least two guards from Bakur and Arden on the other side who were hardly going to ignore a commotion in a neighboring office, and might be able to call in backup. The small doorway behind the receptionist's desk likely led to an office - possibly for the shift supervisor - and was probably a dead end, unless it had a window overlooking the hangar's operations. The dimensions of the final large door behind the desk, the tracks on the floor at its foot, and the faint smell of machine grease lingering in the air suggested it might be a bay door leading to the loading floor of the hangar. There would undoubtedly be the largest number of personnel through there, but it was also likely where he might find a connecting door or a spotting lay-up from which to surveil Bakur, Arden, or both.

The lobby itself was well-lit and light on evasive cover. None of the furnishings so much as touched the floor, and the cylindrical holoprojectors off to his side were barely tall enough to reach his hips. It wasn't where he wanted to get stuck in a fight.

2020 turned to face the young woman behind the floating reception desk, thinking quickly at her question. He entertained the notion of going along with her suggestion - she seemed open to the idea of someone wanting to sign on, and he must have looked the part well enough, if that was the conclusion she had formed. And, perhaps most importantly, people liked it when you agreed with them - they were less likely to question an idea that they had proposed. It didn't take a genius to know that. He hesitated for a second, however. Signing on as a brand new spacer - assuming they even had an opening for him - would probably be like getting busted down to Private. It might even be like being a cadet again. Someone would be assigned to orient him to the facility, and train him. They would likely want to load him down with the most unpleasant of tasks, and spend the rest of their shift breathing down his neck while he completed them. He would be presented with no real opportunity to investigate Bakur or Arden. He'd need more autonomy than that. More authority.

The holoprojected images he had noticed when he entered aimed to suggest prosperity and pride; a well-organized and tidy little universe held together by Yatari Mining operations. Very Kaminoan, he thought. But the tracks of dirt leading out of the bay door gave up the lie - reality fell short of business aspirations. The higher-ups wouldn't be pleased by that.

The Imperial Army had taught 2020 many things, and among them were these: people dislike to question authority almost as much as authority dislikes to be questioned, and everyone has someone to answer to. He had a plan.

Okay, be authoritative. Just don't make her cry.

2020 squared his shoulders and approached the desk."Actually, I'm here from Corporate. This facility is due for its Safety and Operations Audit." He explained. "Excuse the outfit. The last time we audited this location we had people trying to cover up infractions as soon as they saw us come through the door. Spacers, you know." He stepped next, uninvited, around the desk and came to stand at the threshold of what he thought to be the door leading to the hangar, looking pointedly down at the floor. He scuffed his shoe experimentally at the grease stains as though checking for a slipping hazard. "I'll need to have a look at hangar operations - unannounced, please." He indicated the closed office door behind him. "Is this staining typical? Bring in Janitorial to get that cleaned up while I'm inspecting the rest of the facilities - Corporate feels strongly about the image our customers are greeted with in all of our facilities, and I'd hate to have to dock points from your section when you're clearly doing such a good job here." He said in a rapid stream, barely pausing for breath so she wouldn't be able to get a word in edgewise. He wanted to give the impression of someone who deeply disliked delays for any reason. "Do these premises connect with any of the surrounding businesses? I'll need to look over security arrangements if they do."

[roll0]

[Redshaw]

Kei exhales as he watches the clone stride off. Closing his eyes, he collects his thoughts and courage, then makes for the guarded entrance with all the confidence of a man who was actually meant to be there.

[Greymane]

The young woman's face contorts into a mixture of shock and confusion as 2020 shoots off his rapid and grandiose lie, and she subconsciously moves her chair away from him when he approaches her behind her desk. In the end, her expression settles on surprise and she has to force herself not to look like a krugga deer caught in headlights. She sputters out "Ums" and "Uhs" whenever it looks like she can try and edge in a response, but the clone's rapid speaking keeps her cut off until he is clearly finished.

She blinks furtively and finally speaks, her voice has a hint of anxiety to it. "Yes, of course, sir, I can let you in right away. I'll alert the manager, and he'll be with your shortly." She turns and presses into her computer console, eliciting some beeps from it before the larger of the two doors opens with sliding whoosh, revealing and expansive hangar passed the threshold, accompanied by a now much stronger scent of oil and a slight metallic tang when a gust of air blows into the room. "And not to worry, sir, we'll have the mess at the door cleaned in no time." She says with an uneasy smile.


http://img12.imageshack.us/img12/8593/79b8.jpg

The hangar is large, spacious and enclosed. The bright lights and immaculate white of the rest of the facility gives way to dull greys of durasteel and duracrete, intermingled with its fair share of black carbon scoring. Roughly one hundred meters away to the east, the bright light of day can be seen as the hangar's ship exit and entrance. Large pieces of mining equipment, physical drills and laser drills in various forms of assembly and packaging can be seen in the southwest corner, directly to your right from where you entered. Several powerloaders are busily driving around, lifting crates out of one of five large cargo ships landed next to the south wall and stacking them either in the southwest, or to the north.

To the north, however, is a set of unpowered force field fences that continues all the way down the ship exit, which seems to have had the original purpose of separating this hangar from an adjacent one. In lieu of the normal force field, there appears to be piles of scrap metal and the occasional droid part heaped up in various places along the fence that seems to act as a marker and a barrier to the two hangars, supplemented by neat stacks of crates. In the adjoining hangar, there is a single freighter (http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20071127062432/starwars/images/e/e2/Ghtroc720_sotg07.jpg), being attended to by several people and a single astromech droid. Three armed men in familiar blue and grey uniforms are also close by in the northern hangar.



Kei approaches the guarded entrance for Bakur RepulsorCorp, the armed sentry offers a practiced smile and a nod to him as he passes by. The office is small, five by ten meters, and just as white and bright as the rest of the facility. To his immediate left are repulsor-powered chairs and a table, silently hovering a few inches above the ground. To his right is a wall filled with framed certificates and accolades, awards for excellence, and even an award from the Navigator's Guild for the discovery of several new hyperspace lanes.

Directly in front of Kei is a rectangular desk, also hovering a scant few inches above the ground. Behind the desk are two doors, one small with a nameplate next to it, and the other is double the size of the other, and bereft of a nameplate or sign that might indicate what lies behind it.

Sitting behind the desk is an elderly plump human woman, with curly brown hair. She looks up from her computer console and smiles as the ensign enters the office. Her voice is pleasant and unhurried. "Hello sir, welcome to Bakur RepulsorCorp. How might we help you today?"

[Dent-2020]

2020 peered curiously through the open bay door into the hangar, taking in as many relevant details as he could.

"No need to bother your supervisor yet," He said, turning back to the girl at the desk, and trying to put a smile into his voice to set her at ease - she looked like a scared nuna, and he wasn't really sure what he'd done to cause it. He found the fact that he'd alarmed her to be oddly disquieting, but didn't have the time now to examine why. "Any members of management won't be allowed out on the floor with me anyway. Their presence can affect employee behavior, so it's company policy. I'll be prepared to meet with them after I've conducted my investigation." 2020 explained, inventing quickly. It was backwards from how things would be done in the military, but civilians were always backwards anyway, and it sounded pretty good, he thought. "If you'd still prefer to notify them, go ahead. But do, please, remind them not to interfere with the audit process, or we'll have to come back out here again this quarter. They know the drill."

With that, he stepped through the bay door into the hangar.

The majority of the mining hangar's activity appeared to be happening in the southwest corner, and it would likely be easier to blend in there, but he needed a better look at the Bakur hangar, so he headed casually toward the deactivated forcefield wall to his left, trying to appear as though he belonged. He relayed what he could see to his team aboard the Callus and Ensign Fora in the Bakur office as he went, all too aware that the receptionist he had encountered could decide to grab her supervisor and bust him at any moment. The large hangar exit to the east seemed to present the best avenue for escape should he need to bug out quickly, but he hoped he wouldn't need to use it.

"I've entered an adjoining hangar to Bakur Repulsorlift and have eyes on their operation." He said over the open comm channel. "One ship currently docked. Freighter class. Three armed guards, plus loading crew and one astromech. Employees wear blue and grey uniforms. Yatari mining hangar to South presents possible point of entry with reduced security. It may be possible to damage the Bakur astromech to allow KL-03's infiltration through a replacement request. Details to follow."

When he reached the makeshift barrier between the hangars he picked up one of the neatly stacked crates and began filling it with scrap parts from the nearest heap, using it as an excuse to observe the operations in the Bakur hangar, and paying special attention to the details of the hangar layout, the number and armament of personnel, and any details regarding the ship's cargo.

[roll0]

[roll1]

[roll2]

[Redshaw]

Kei's eyes glance over the woman, absorbing as many details and coming to as many conclusions as he can reasonably reach. Overweight. Desk job. Stable work. Failed ambitions, but comfortable. Kei offers a smile with the confidence of a man who'd seen all the stars of the galaxy. "Hello, ma'am." Galactic basic was the alphabet, but she was a secretary: her first language was politeness. "Sorry to trouble you. I'm Jecht, with Bakura electric."

He pulls out his datapad and begins flipping through the screen, his eyes still focused on hers. "This might seem sudden; HQ got a red flag this last week. Seems there's some odd power fluctuations in your shield generator lately. Might be nothing, might be a wild animal, might be kids throwing junk at it. Who knows." He sighs, rolling his eyes dramatically, "It's really just a formality, sending me here, but I have to check on your security vids. Make sure it's not something on our end, which - between you and me..." He lifts his hand and lowers his voice, as if to speak to her in confidance, "It probably is." He winks and offers the very fake and very polite laughter that all office receptionists employ and appreciate.


Persuasion check to Improve the Receptionist's Attitude

[roll0]

Deception check to gain access to security vids of Hangar Bay

[roll1]