[ANV Lightmaker]
[Admiral's Office]
[0400 Hours]
Since the destruction of Csilla, since the advent of the Maw's first incursions into the civilized galaxy, seven years had muddled together and rushed by. Seven years of... this. Fighting battle after battle, darting at random across the frontier to face whatever little fleet the Brotherhood had decided to deploy. And that had earned her a promotion, a new command. Seven years of loss and torment had been rewarded with a shiny new nameplate and a shiny new office.
The commodo- The Admiral pressed her eyes shut, her fingers slowly clasping around digging into the arms of her chair. She felt years of guilt compressing and becoming a pang in her head.
Her breath slowed out of instinct. She'd learned that behavior trying to keep a brave face in front of her crew.
It was a good thing too. The admiral had managed to maintain at least enough of her dignity and composure to be presentable when a stuttering chime burst from the door.
Liedran raised her gaze, gently taking hold of the entrance to her office. "Come in, please," the admiral replied to the chime, loud enough for the door locks to catch and recognize her command. The doors quickly slid apart, retreating into the surrounding bulkheads and revealing the Lightmaker's fresh-faced communications officer. "Ensign Laine, it's good to see you out and about," her voice stumbled with the last words, but she kept a façade of a smile all throughout, until she noticed the ensign's face.
Laine seemed pale, shaken. His hands twitched slightly while presenting a thin data card. "This came in on comms-- I've already informed the rest of the senior staff, ma'am."
Liedran took the card quickly, her artificial smile suddenly collapsing and revealing the nervous frown it once hid. "Command-?"
"Forwarded it over, ma'am. Background radiation was muddling our communications when the broadcast was sent out. It's a big package, so I didn't want to send it over to your terminal. And I was on my way to my quarters, anyway."
The admiral stared appraisingly at the thin slab of metal, already letting a rush of speculation arise from the base of her mind and whisper into her ear. She twitched slightly, already knowing there'd be bad news. "I'll look it over. Thank you, ensign." She locked eyes briefly with the young crewman and made a slight nod, signaling for him to leave.
Once Laine was gone, Liedran plugged the card into its slot at her terminal, placing her chin atop her clasped hands as an image flickered onto the screen.
A long few minutes crept by before the broadcast finally flickered out and retreated into blackness. Liedran was left in total silence, frozen with her eyes locked on the empty screen. She recognized that face from briefings and a scattered few other transmissions-- Darth Solipsis, figurehead of the Brotherhood of the Maw-- and the sight shook her on every level. At Tython, the galaxy will be unmade. The ominous promise echoed in her mind, ringing like awful warning klaxons before an engagement. It crescendoed and climbed, thinning and thinning until the words came out only as a splitting whine and an overwhelming headache. Tython? Tython!? What could they be planning? What ace was the Brotherhood hiding under its sleeve? Another superweapon? A plague? A-a-
They were confident about it-- confident enough to make an announcement. The Brotherhood's plan must've already been in place.
Her headache only got worse as she tried to understand Solipsis' cryptic proclamation, tried to mull over the lies and find their hidden truths. She found nothing, in the end, save for more pain.
And fear, terror-- the specialties of the Brotherhood and the pavement of the trail they'd left in their wake.
When the headaches finally subsided and Liedran's anger turned to resolve on her face, she flicked a switch on the side of the terminal and ordered into the microphone, "Bridge: Admiral Kathause. Set Condition 2. Plot a course for Tython. I'll be up there shortly."
