Acoustic Fields

[Hira Mitsae]

02:12AM Lianna
Ty’rel Towerhttp://yogfingers.deviantart.com/art/Tyrell-Corp-442586195

An office, a man, a table and a wide transparisteel window behind him. It was the usual of settings, an exercise in familiarity in a time when familiarity was the only thing that kept them grounded to reality. Times of war, chaos, the afterthought of the Netherworld was still prevalent in the mindsets of the common folk, uncertainty was still on the rise even as governments put down more restrictions on the common day to day life.

It wouldn’t be any different for years to come, not after everything that had happened, because whatever Akela had had in mind with her little stunt. It had accomplished one simple thing, people no longer considered themselves safe.

Even now, months later they still wondered… what if it happened again? What could stop it? She was dead, but what if someone else decided to come in and mess around with them? Nothing they could do against it, but live on and hope for the best.

Some did try to hope for the best, others… not so much.

It was in this spirit that Irani send out a call to [member="Leena Mai"] on her commlink, she was one of the few that was in the know about who he was and what he represented on Lianna.

Today they had important business to discuss.

Briefly Darell wondered if he was interrupting something important, calling her like this, but in the end he put it out of his mind. Couldn’t be anything that important, right?

 

[Beatrice Govan]

VVVVNNN.

No, please.

VVVVVVVVNNNNNN.

I need to sleep!

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVNNNNNNNNNNN.

It was unrelenting, attacking like a beast of her nightmares the vibration of hatred that kept her from the realm of sleep. She didn't care who her friends were fracking, or where they were fracking, she just wanted to be free of that drama. Leena simply wanted to sleep.

[WAKE UP, BITCHES!]

Tiny light pestered eyes glared at the blinding light of the holoscreen.

[Where are you?]

[STOP SLEEPING!]

[It's been seven weeks. Are you still alive?]

Apparently it had been seven weeks since she had last communicated with the outside world, well at least that was what her communicator had said. Her head peeped out of the duvet, eyes tiny and unimpressed by any message that came her way, unless they were offering free credits, that is.

[I'm busy.]

[RUDE!]

[Busy sucking deck, you mean.]

The human shaped lump in the duvet shifted, once, twice, even three times as the creature within considered waking up. Her head poked out of her duvet, the covers thick, cosy and enveloping It was too comfortable, getting up was a chore rather than a thought. However beyond the petty conversation of WhatsHap Leena knew that she had to get up. She was needed.

Damn it…

Scraping her hair into a tight high bun Leena escaped the bed, dressing in a presentable uniform, grey pencil skirt with a white blouse and a grey suit jacket to match. Orderly. Sensible. Knackered. There were gremlins in the corner of her eyes, crusty and vicious.

Click click click.

Came the sound of heels upon the floor of the office, granting her an introduction to [member="Darell Irani"]. She held in her hand, two drinks in their holders. One stimcaff, one sugar, black, the other was tarine tea at exactly two-hundred and twelve degrees Fahrenheit, one cube of sugar, a half centimetre in diameter. In the bag was a strawberry duffin, a creation half-muffin, half-doughnut, and sharing such bag space was his two sweet-sand cookies.

“Good morning, sir,” she said, half-groggily as she entered the office, drinks and bag in tow.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Leena Mai"]

A hologram was projected between Mai and Irani, it was the visual projection of a certain space station. Crseih Station, back before the Gulag it had been a research and torture facility for the Galactic Empire of Palpatine and it might hold the secret, that one particular link that would make Project Eternity just that much more viable for long-time usage. (without having to worry about reactors exploding randomly)

It circled, giving different perspectives on the station, all angles were covered. Irani looked at it for one more moment and then tapped a button, making it disappear. It would have to wait for now, considering his own PA had just arrived.

Brooding, icy blue eyes lifted themselves from the table and studied [member="Leena Mai"] carefully, eyes went up and down, noting the heels, the skirt and other attire, then finally settled on the neatly creation of her hair.

Finally they swept across the face and noticed the signs of tiredness and generally bleariness, it seemed that he had interrupted her in some way. Darell then raised his eyebrow as he noticed what she had brought with her.

Aroma and scent of the coffee came to him, and if he wasn’t mistaken the bag would contain exactly what he liked.

‘You haven’t forgotten, miss Mai.’ the Irani finally answered. ‘I am pleasantly surprised. I hope the transition from comfy sheets to the cruel reality of the outside world was not too much of a cultural shock?’

 

[Beatrice Govan]

“I have not forgotten, my Lord,” she reiterated, the sir of a moment ago being promptly replaced by the more proper my Lord. Heels clicked over to his desk in neat pleasing rhythm, begging to be used in a mix-tape sample as the perfect beat.

Leena's mind was still reforming, in her head the transition from peaceful slumber to on-the-ball was still taking place, still readjusting to fit the right frame of mind one needed to be in the employ of [member="Darell Irani"] (and believe me, it was a very specific frame).

Setting down the hot morning beverages she removed the tarine tea and presented it in front of him upon the desk, before also removing his sweet sand cookies from the small brown bag and placing them next to the tea upon their given napkin, wouldn't wish to make a mess of the fine wood after all.

He must have caught the sleep still settled in her eyes.

“The culture shock is quite horrendous,” she replied after making sure the man had his regular order at his fingertips. Now she could take care of herself. Lifting the steaming container to her lips Leena gave the beverage a dainty little blow, as if it might have prevented the scalding of her tongue.

A sip.

Hello, morning.

“But that's what the stimcaf is for, my Lord.”

There came another heavy vibration from her pocket, a reminder that woman really needed to set her comm to silent when on the job. What inane babble was it now? Her last remaining ties to a world too ordinary to bear.

[Help! How do you get red wine stains out of a dog?!]

Almost too ordinary to bear. Her friend's message would gleefully perplex Leena but only later, as personal communication was generally frowned upon in the workplace, especially in the middle of the boss's office.

“How may I further please you this morning?”

Wait no. That didn't come out right. Her own blue eyes widened at the suggestive tone of her own question, a small squeak coming out of Miss Mai's mouth, or perhaps her nose as she mentally tried to retract that statement.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

A bemused smirk played on the lips as Irani gave his PA another look over, this one more suggestive than the last one. In truth she was pretty enough to interest him in that capacity, but it would never happen for one simple reason.

He would always think she was just doing it to 'please' her boss and keep him satisfied. Not exactly the best foundation of such a relationship, no? In the end Irani simply chuckled and waved her embarrassment away.

'At ease, Leena.' he replied after taking a good look at the wares she had brought him. 'You have done well.'

He took a long sip from the coffee as a way to demonstrate his appreciation for the coffee, exactly how he liked it too.

Brilliant.

'How do you like it? Working for me, I mean.'

 

[Beatrice Govan]

On his word she relaxed somewhat, tense shoulders finding just a spot of room to wind down as her flirtatious guff was mercifully swept to the side rather than played upon for amusement.

Another sip of the 'caf will take away the self-inflicted awkwardness.

“Working for you?” Leena replied, parroting him once again just so she could mull the question aloud within her own mouth. It wasn't something she hadn't really thought about, typical in the almost pedestrian way she still floated through life as if this was an ordinary nine 'til five.

Still clinging to normalcy.

“It's...”

She still remembered the complete fear and near-lunacy that had come to her when she disfigured a Sith on her first day, remembered thinking who would feed Terance her tree turtle after they executed her.

Started from the bottom now we're here.

“...uhm..”

Nonetheless Leena had survived and was plunged into a world where risk was just more than situational comedy relief awkwardness. There was threat, she did things that may or may not have been above or below the law. It was wild, like she as the protagonist in her own holonovel, like Seventy Shades of Chartreuse, except without the shameless office bondage.

On another note Terance the tree turtle did not survive, having chose to slowly toddle out her apartment's open window. She would never know that he killed a skraal in his last moment. His free-falling shell cracking the rodent on the top of the noggin'.

Rejected from McYoda's now we're here.

“...I love it, my Lord,” she finally conceded with a small, soft smile upon her features, the cup of stimcaf coming to quickly hide such an expression.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Leena Mai"]

‘Excellent.’ the Irani replied with a short nod. He had been hoping she would say that, and at the same time had been fearing it a little bit. Because when an assistant was enjoying her work, it was just that much harder to make her jump through even more hoops. At least when you were a reasonable person and Irani had always considered him a reasonable person- if a bit unorthodox at times.

He scratched his chin a little bit and then shrugged.

It was better to get it out now, instead of trying to dance around the point for a few more hours.

So that’s what Irani did.

‘We are going on a field operation, it will be dangerous, you might be killed and it will be a lot of fun.’

Raised eyebrow.

‘You can quit now if you want to.’

Always give them the chance to get out while they could. It was only a fair choice, not everyone enjoyed dodging plasma bullets to the face and killing hordes of maniacs in an attempt to secure valuable data.

And the data they were about to secure was very valuable, it would speed up their research margins by years and every year counted in this particular project.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

A field operation.

Now that was a different cup of tea. Even the words, field operation made it sound official, imposing, dangerous, fictitious even as if just for her moment Leena's life had suddenly been plunged into the silver screen with notions of an action adventure, perhaps with mingling of comedy in-between. Yeah, that sounded right.

Although not something that could be done in these shoes.

The woman's reaction was surprisingly cavalier given the prospect of death. You might be killed. There was a slight flicker of curious eyebrows as the assistant took another sip of that hot, black stimcaf, a single thought cresting within her mind:

I could have already been killed.

True story. Between mild assault, slicing temple consoles for classified information and being employed by the Galaxy's number one enemy there was no real guarantee of safety in her line of work. She recalled her first day on the job, have heart… your position under me will… protect you to a certain degree.

Still breathing. Still living. Leena Mai found that by now she trusted him, and his transparent intention only helped aid that notion.

“Quit?”

After all that I've done here?

“Just how dangerous?”

[member="Darell Irani"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Leena Mai"]

His head was slightly tilted, as if he had been listening to something amusing. Before tapping on a button and the hologram came back online, again showing the station they would be heading for. It had been a major scientific research facility, specializing in dimensional research, other dimensions… which was exactly what they needed to perfect project Damocles.

‘Crseih Station.’ Irani finally said. ‘Before the Gulag it was a research facility, focused on a variety of fringe science. Dimensional experiments and whatnot. We have managed to track it down in a remote part of the Pakuuni system.’

Another tap and the hologram zoomed out from the station proper, and showed a map of the Pakuuni system. It had always been a hive of scum and villainy, pirates, smugglers, but these days it was slightly… worse than that.

At least on Crseih Station.

‘It’s now infested with cultists of the less savory sort.’ another tap and Irani brought up a scene of a dozen psychos cladded in the weirdest attires… and they were ganging up on some poor sacrifice- PG-rated.

‘Cannibals who worship suicide and torture.’ His gaze lifted itself from the projection, which slowly faded out back to the station. ‘It’s quite despicable.’

Though Irani didn’t seem very impressed, it was as if he was giving a regular class presentation during sex ed.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

The hologram returned, at least sating a small speck of curiosity to what he had been reviewing before she had entered with the 2am breakfast run.

As Darell gave her the run-down she reached into the breakfast bag, finally pulling out her freshly-baked strawberry duffin. Mmm, still warm. Shaped like a muffin but with the flesh of a doughnut it was the perfect lightly sugared concoction for this time of day.

The what, the where…

...the cannibals…

“Palpatine's pecker!” she exclaimed under her breath, almost choking on the warm dough.

Leena was halfway through a bite of her sweet breakfast when the hologram changed to the cultists. It was a jarring change from the map of the Pakuuni system, and it was...was...rather...gory. Her blues flickered down to the duffin, red strawberry oozing out of the center with a small squeeze. Suddenly she was no longer hungry.

“Quite despicable?” she parroted, disbelief in her tone, eyebrows furrowing in a mixture of disgust and surprise. “I assume that these cultists will need to be...relocated,” Leena continued with a sniff, her tone suggesting a much more permanent solution that relocation.

[member="Darell Irani"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Leena Mai"]

Relocated. Now that was one funny way of putting it, but yes. Leena was right in the metaphorical sense, they would have to be relocated from this reality to the next and they would have to help them along.

For cultists that worshipped suicide they never seemed to grow out of members, which was peculiar, but it was mostly the way of the world. There were a lot of factions that should have run out of members a long time ago.

The Silver Jedi, for example. The Republic was another one, perhaps even the Mandalorians. But no, you still saw them struggling along, hoping that the next day would bring change. Wasn’t that really the sign of true madness? Going in and out of the same motion every day, thinking that the next time it will be different?

All philosophical ramblings aside, Irani nodded.

‘Yes… relocating would be the preferable treatment.’ treatment, it seemed they had transitioned from viewing them as humans towards viewing them as disposable assets, just waiting to be incinerated.

A pondering or two, perhaps a gaze sizing up his assistant again.

‘Are you up for it?’

Because that was the real question, no? Would she be able to pull the trigger, not once, twice or thrice, but a hundred times and ending lives all the while? Not an easy task for a grunt, but a PA?

Difficult question.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Are you up for it?

It was now, after having her breakfast ruined that she realised the more immediate sense of danger that was involved here.

This wasn't skulking around garnering information upon the Voices, a task which was lethal in itself. Different varieties of danger. That was like having a blade poised at your throat from behind, assailant unknown. This, on the other hand was a screaming krayt dragon in her face.

Suicide cult.

Cannibals, for crying out loud!

It was definitely outside of the expectations of a mere personal assistant. Did he expect her to pick up a blaster and mow down scores of flesh-eating physopaths? Was this the real life? Or was she in fact still in bed having the most feverish of dreams?

“Forgive me, my Lord,” she began, having her half-duffin about slightly, “but I'm confused.”

Her features furrowed, confusion reflecting across Leena's visage as she looked to him with one burning question in her mind.

“What role am I to play in this?"

[member="Darell Irani"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Leena Mai"]

Tilted head, eyes searching. She was definitely under scrutiny right now, but then again… it was an early morning and she was still a little bit tired. Irani couldn’t really blame her for a sluggish slowish mindset right about now, the moment stretched and the silence reigned for a while as the question was left in the middle of them.

Then a grin, lazy, charismatic and above all… dangerously edged.

‘As my wing girl, of course.’ Wingman sounded so negative, they weren’t there to buy the cannibals dinner. Except if hot plasma and mental torture could be considered dinner, because in then it would be an open buffet.

‘You will watch my back and make sure this mission is a success.’

A success.

‘You will be properly armed, of course.’

So no, dear Leena. You were definitely not dreaming and this was really happening. Poor woman, first hacking restricted items, then scalding sexist Sith acolytes and now this, it seemed that the world wasn’t yet ready to give her a break.

But at least her boss was being honest with her, no? And maybe this would mean a raise in her salary, probably.

In the end Irani simply waited, raised eyebrow still and waiting for her to either give him a negative or a positive answer. He really hoped she wouldn’t start listing reasons for why she couldn’t come, he just needed a straight answer.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Wing girl.

It sounded so casual, as if they were going to hit the town on a night out to go on the hunt. No, not that hunt. Not big game, but booty game. Could you imagine? For a moment Leena was distracted by that thought, them strutting into the club both dressed to the nines, her leading the gazes of fellow girls towards him, middle of the dancefloor…

...shaking 'dat booty.

It was a very vivid image, that was so out of place with the current topic that she had to physically shake her head to get back onto topic.

Back watching was fine. Making sure the mission was a success was vague and could have meant so many different things, so many different scenarios. Being armed? There was almost something alluring about having a weapon, a real weapon, not just walking home alone with her apartment keys protruding through her fingers.

It terrified her, but in that same breath she trusted him. Since coming into his employ her quality of life had significantly improved and while she had done questionable things, it was always suitably rewarded.

Azure gaze shifted from him to the strawberry jam of her duffin, oozing out in a fashion reminiscent of coagulated blood. Leena swallowed that notion down and returned focus to him.

“Yes, yes I'll do it.”

[member="Darell Irani"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Leena Mai"]

Another nod, this one of comparable finality. This was only the first step of transformation that Leena would encounter in the vast stairway to the path of… what? Now that was a good question, what was Irani hoping to achieve with this woman? Turn her into an acolyte? Maybe turn her into some kind of assassin, she would have been perfect for the job. At least if she managed to lose some of that popcult attitude of hers. She was reasonably pretty, but still held that distinct vibe of normalcy that few people possessed anymore these days, and that would have been her biggest asset.

Who would ever suspect the girl who was dreamily thinking about doughnuts and going out on a friday night to boogie it up in the club? Few if any. Assassins were clad in black leather, latex, were armed to the teeth and always had black cosmetics.

It was the way of the trope world to assume that was reality.

‘Excellent.’ he once again said. ‘Outside the office you will find one of my assistants, they will get you the outfit and weaponry you need, when you are done meet me at the helipad and we will go over all of it again.’

Irani gave her a brief wink, a sign of trust? Hrm. And then went back to his work, it seemed she was dismissed for now.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

That was that.

With a steady nod the woman took her 'caf, her duffin and the small brown bag that it had come in and departed, trying to actually wrap her head around what had just happened, what she had just agreed to.

A field operation.

Was this her life now? Was this real? I mean, what was she in the grand scheme of things? Nothing, unimportant, just a small cog in a greater machine. A woman with an art history degree and an aptitude for medium flavoured sass, that's what she was. Soon to be outfitted and armed, soon to be in the face of a cannibalistic suicide cult.

Having lost her appetite in the face of graphic holograms Leena shoved her unfinished breakfast into the brown bag and disposed of it into the trash and moved on to contemplate that wink.

Farewell strawberry duffin, we hardly knew ye.

---

Suited and booted, with nerves on her mind and minor weaponry upon her belt she no longer click click click'd but rather thudded with the sensible drum of boots, steel toe cap for that extra kick.

She managed to get at peep at her comm, baffled and bewildered by Leiah's mishaps with a dog and red wine and she wondered why all of her friends were still out at such a time. On a normal morning would she have been there with them? Drunk as a skunk, face down in a kebab? Leena couldn't help notice the contrast between what she was doing now and what she would have been doing then.

Arriving at the helipad the woman appeared slightly sheepish, feeling as though she were playing dress-up and that they were going to a fancy dress party.

---

[member="Darell Irani"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Leena Mai"]

Whilst Mai seemed rather uncomfortable in her new attire, Irani was anything but uncomfortable, currently he was leaning against the stealth transporter that would bring them away and chatting rather amicably with the pilot to pass the time. He didn’t wear any armor though, which was curious to say the least.

Instead he wore one of his tuxedos and that meant either of the two things. Either he was crazy and thought himself invulnerable or he knew something no one else knew. Few would realize the suit he was currently wearing was created by Titan Industries and wasn’t actually a suit, not a real one at least.

It was a living and breathing organical construction which could change shape, color and whatever the hell Irani wanted it to do. But most importantly, it could take a few shots while looking dang classy at it.

A long time ago Irani had found out that appearances was everything in this world of theirs and wearing a tuxedo to a battlefield would project power. Crazy, nuthead power. But power all the same and when he returned from the battle alive? Chalk up another cross onto the legends-board.

Finally Darell noticed Mai waiting on him, he patted the pilot on the shoulder and strutted over to his PA.

‘Looking dashing, Mai.’ he replied with an easy grin. ‘You should do this more often.’

It seemed that the outlook of a fight was making the businessman giddy.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

No. No way, this was most definitely a holovid. It was a spy flick. Were they spies? The woman's brow raised at the thought, a single half-manicured eyebrow meeting his outfit with mild surprise. A tuxedo. Was that really going to provide the necessary protection? Was he really that confident? Well, if you've got the skills that pay the bills...

Her eyes flickered over to the stealth transporter, half expecting a pair of martinis to be awaiting them.

Too bad she liked them stirred and not shaken.

“Thank you, my Lord, I'll bear it in mind,” she said in return with a small smile, always so sure to return thanks for any compliments ever thrown her way. Eyes glazed over for a moment, as there was a miscommunication between brain and mouth and the woman muttered her own thoughts aloud.

“I've never been so aware of my bottom.”

A blink, a perplexed facial expression to say: Did I just…? Hey girl, just play it cool, play it off, we're fine, you're fine, your bottom is especially fine, apparently.

“You're very debonair yourself, my Lord. I suspect the cannibals will be dazzled before they are destroyed,” Leena said in regards to his outfit, a more coy variety of smile upon her face as she tried to play it cool. The personal assistant was sure that her current composure would dissolve in the actual face of cultists.

---

[member="Darell Irani"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Leena Mai"]

‘I hope not, haven’t had a good fight since Sluis Van.’ Irani quipped, or at least one would think he was quipping, he couldn’t actually be looking forward to facing suicide-worshipping cannibals while wearing a simple tux, right? That didn’t happen in real life, those were the flicks that used to be broadcasted four hours a day, seven days a week.

But by now Mai should have learned that nothing was all that easy or grounded in the daily routine of regular life, when it came to working for Irani. There was a simple motto that rotated around his entire life and it went something like…

If I ever wanted to work a nine ‘til seven job I’d have taken a job as a salesman.

Nah, this was more to his taste and hopefully Mai would eventually take to this kind of operations herself too. It was time she stopped being a simple PA and started being something more, perhaps a simple promotion would soon be in order.

We would see.

In the meanwhile, Irani blinked as as she said something about her bottom. He patted her shoulder, delicately, ‘cause he was very much aware on the difference of size between the two of ‘em.

‘Your bottom is beautiful, Mai. Don’t worry. This will be a breeze.’

It wasn’t entirely certain if Darell had just made a pass on his assistant, or if he had been trying to keep her mind of what they were going to do next. You never really knew with Irani until he was wrapping his arms around ya and started kissing ya.

Heh.

Satisfied he turned around and stepped into the transporter that would take ‘em to the warzone.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

His assistant wasn't even sure if he had made a pass on her either but would not waste a compliment aimed at her bottom either way. She looked down, smirking to herself for but a moment, it was a peculiar smile, as if the woman knew when the world was going to end. There for a second and then gone.

Of course, his words only stifled her concerns for a moment.

Suicide worshipping cannibals.

The holofilm would suddenly change genre, but were they going from a smooth spy flick to an action adventure of a horror? What if they got separated? He was more than capable of handling himself but what of her?

That old half-eaten strawberry duffin threatened to make a resurgence up the woman's throat as she stepped into the transporter.

No, let's not vomit on the nice suit.

Settling in, the woman sat with her hands clutching her knees as the shuttle began to rattle at her feet. Leena was aware of just how hard she was clutching her knees and was suddenly very thankful that she was clad in an armorweave bodysuit, so that her fingernails wouldn't pierce through the no doubt expensive protective clothing.

With cannibals on the mind, her thoughts turned to human flesh and both briefly and silently the personal assistant wondered what it tasted like. Cooked, of course.

[member="Darell Irani"]