A Surprise Appointment

[Prennis Keeoli]

851 ABY - FIV Malice
[member="Robogeber"]
†††

“Doctor." Aes’ona glanced up from her electronic hand of pazaak cards to the midshipman addressing her: "We’ve arrived.”

“Thank you,” she replied and nodded as she switched her datapad off, uncrossed her legs and stood. “I can see myself out.” As she walked through the transport shuttle towards the docking ramp, she zipped her datapad up in her tote, managing to squeeze it beside her medkit. With a quick, shallow sigh attempting to calm her effectively-buried-but-still-present nerves, she began her decent into the hangar.

The Sixth Fleet’s Malice: to the extent her recent understanding, the Star Destroyer lived up to its name. Its command was vested in Fleet Admiral Carlyle Rausgeber, one of few First Order officers to receive the Iron Sun. Aes’ona had taken the liberty and dedicated part of her journey to reading the publicized pieces of his military file, and she would be blatantly lying if she said she did not feel at all intimidated.

What she felt was a far cry from outright scared; more than anything, she was still rattled--and a little addled--that she had been called here. It was pitiful, maybe, for a naval doctor to have never set foot on a battleship other than a lightly-armed transport while helping offload casualties.

True, she had consulted before for various doctors on this very fleet, but it was always through holo-conferences so she did not have to leave her hospital on FMIS Mountbatten. She was a little wary that she had not received a commission from Sixth's medical chair, Hersh Thaxton, in months, but had decided she had no prerogative to contact him directly about it.

She had been left a holorecording to come as soon, sooner, than possible from Mountbatten. And here she was. Clearly, she was called in for good reason; it was doubtful the admiral wasted his precious time on frivolous ventures. She was a good doctor, there was no reason to be overly humble to the point of apprehension.

Ego aside, she was also worried (maybe also a tad guilty) about leaving her new hires alone so soon. She had simply not expected to. She had been banking on having much more time to properly onboard them, but they would most likely assimilate just fine under the capable oversight of her assistant doctor, Kiearan Launderslaug.

Her heels gently clicked against the metal ramp, and then the sound ceased once she reached the Malice’s flight deck. She came to a stop and glanced around, careful not to look to far behind her, as not to catch a glimpse of the vacuum waiting outside of the hanger.

She was a bit unsure of how she was meant to proceed. Her recall order had been unclear in its specifics: was she to wait here for the Admiral? Was she to try and find her way to the bridge? Would he even be there?

“I should’ve taken that tranquillizer,” she muttered to herself, unaware she was speaking her thoughts.

 

[Robogeber]

The hangar of the Malice was one bustling with activity. Although it carried less hangar capacity than the other resurgent-class destroyers in service, it still housed a sortie of TIE fighters and bombers, who were now drilling with their colleagues from the escorts which menacingly orbited the Malice. Hangar technicians moved to their stations, fuelling fighters, and stormtroopers ran patrols, circling the perimeter. Intercoms buzzed, calling various engineers to their posts, with the howl of TIE fighters launching, creating a wall of violent audio.

From behind Aes'Ona, a black gloved hand reached on her shoulder, "Doctor Terrani." A husky, feminine voice purred from behind a black stormtroopers helm, "The Fleet Admiral has been anticipating your arrival." She then raised her fist, and as if out of mid air, three other stormtroopers, all attired in identical garb emerged from the shadows, armed with large rifles. The trio began surrounding the young medical officer. "Please, follow me this way," The lead stormtrooper commanded, pressing in front of the doctor, and beginning to escort her through the vessel.

The Malice wasn't built like the other resurgent destroyers. It was different in many ways, from its phrik command bridge, to the dual hypermatter reactors, it felt like a seperate vessel. And to that extent it was. Extra precautions had been built into the vessel, with the party experiencing them on the way through. Blast doors had to be unlocked, checkpoints cleared. But all of it done without a word. Any officers they came across, or even stormtroopers gave the agents a quick stare, filled with dread, before briskly moving on their way.

The journey was a silent one, and ended when the five made their way to the third tier of hull within the superstructure. They had found themselves now deep within the vessel, in the officers quarter of the vessel. Where many could be found, writing acquisition papers, filing paperwork, or preparing leave passes. At this time aboard the vessel, it was sparsely populated, bar one. Outside one of the doors, another two black stormtroopers sat guard, hands firmly placed on their weapons.

As they approached the door, the lead stopped, "She's clean." She informed one of the guards, who opened the door to the office with a hiss.

[member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"]

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

Aes’ona, feeling as if thanking her escorts would go unappreciated by them--and possibly frowned-upon by the Fleet Admiral if he overheard--stepped through the threshold and into the office. She wasted no time; she assumed Rausgeber would appreciate no-nonsense.

“Reporting as ordered, Fleet Admiral,” she announced, and hopefully the name tag pinned to her pocket would serve as introduction enough.

[member="Robogeber"]

 

[Robogeber]

Turned away from the woman, stood the Fleet Admiral. His hair slicked back as he examined something upon a shelf which sat behind his desk. The office was rather spacious, with artefacts of various kinds on the walls. Right behind his desk, a large screen sat, flicking through various pictures. One showed a man, who looked like a younger Rausgeber, along with five others who too looked like him. Briefly, the screen flickered, and changed to the next picture, of a young man attired in the unmistakable garb of an FOSB officer, and then the next of a young Chiss woman.

Carlyle's desk was neatly ordered, with papers filed, and a holoprojector which sat in the centre of the desk, displaying the Malice, and its escorts as they cruised in sublight speed. Upon the Doctor's entry, and introduction he turned to face her, a warm smile pursing his lips. "Doctor Terrani," The officer began, "Please, sit down before you fall down." There was something slightly off about his appearance however, and there was a hum. It clung in the air slightly, as if it were distant, but sounded close. The sound of a repulsor-lift generator.

As if by magic, two guards attired in the same black armour, appeared from thin air, standing either side of the doctor. They approached in uniform lock-step and pulled out a seat for her. It was black, and leather, made of tanned tauntaun hide, with a luxurious Bespin silk cushion. Symbols from where the Sixth Fleet lurked, and had its finest moment, the Anoat Sector. "I trust you made it here well." Rausgeber continued, he then eyed both guards. "I must apologise for the efforts of my guards. They are rather zealous, and do enjoy intimidating newcomers to no end." He paused, "Care for some tea?"

[member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"]

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

She bit back a chuckle. "My, what gives it away?" she asked, attending the question to be rhetoric. She must have looked as tired--maybe even more--as she was, even though she had tried to cover up the telltale signs on her face with packed powder before she left her apartment on the station. With all she had to do on her lightspeed journey from Mountbatten's orbit in the Dosuun sector to the Barkesh one, she had forgotten to freshen up before leaving the transport craft.

Ae'sona did as she was told, approaching the desk before the guards passed her and pulled out the chair for her. As she waited for them, she eased her tote off of her shoulder and, after sliding into the seat, set the bag down by her now-crossed legs. She returned the smile. "All is forgiven, sir. I am supposing I'll be getting used to it, but tell me if that is too bold an assumption."

Then, as if on cue, she began to yawn, but quickly rose the back of a hand to cover it. When she was done, she replied, "Tea would, evidently, be fantastic, sir, thank you."

[member="Robogeber"]

 

[Robogeber]

"Figure of speech." Rausgeber continued with a smirk about his face, the man offered. "Agent, get the good doctor a cup of tea." Carlyle barked, both his guards moved to the far kitchen, away from the duo. The Fleet Admiral watched the doctor, and locked eyes with her. He gently kept his hands together, like a pyramid.

"You do realise the reason as to why we are here together?" The Fleet Admiral coolly inquired, beginning to tap them together. He allowed a beat to pass, "Doctor, I wish for you to become my medical attache." He informed the younger officer, "Professor Arkani has recently retired." His face betrayed some grimace the the mention of the doctor, "And out of the candidates assembled, you were the one I felt was most appropriate, and qualified for it."

[member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"]

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

“I have an inkling, sir,” replied Aes’ona. A very slight inkling, she added to herself, but dare not say that part aloud. "But please, enlighten me."

In such, she had not prepared herself for the news, and her eyes slightly widened at it though she tried to hide her surprise. A medical attaché? And a professor had preceded her? Suddenly, the doctor felt a bit under-qualified, although their degrees were likely very similar in caliber, but she dare not say that either.

She uncrossed her legs in an attempt to not look at if she was taking the offer lightly, and sat up. She asked, “Forgive me--I am flattered--but what exactly does that entail?” An honest question. She had an idea because she knew what an attaché was and she was a medical professional, but her question was supposed to be more pointed as to what he personally would have her do.

“Would it keep me here, sir?” she continued. “I run a hospital on our,”--the big ‘our,’ the First Order's--“medstation Mountbatten. I’d need to transfer leadership if so.” Lauderslaug would do well as director, or perhaps Madine. Or maybe the Fleet Admiral would let her bring one of them on as her assistant. She tended to work better with those she already knew, after all. She made a mental note to ask about that next if he did not address it himself in his answer.

[member="Robogeber"]