Imperial Security Bureau
Briana Sal-Soren
A lone, distant ping in the galaxy. Such a small and insignificant thing that anyone who picked up on it ought to have disregarded it as nothing but just another wandering signal shot into the cosmos and better left forgotten.
That was unless such a ping repeated. Every galactic standard hour, on the hour, for the last week. Such a thing was enough to peak the interest of those who heard it. More so, those who made the effort to decipher the seemingly unintelligible information each burst of data carried.
Last Iseri had heard from the Bureau, that part was still being worked on. A mystery that would certainly be unraveled. Such encryption, when fed into the systems of the ISB, would remain secret forever. Even with the massive backlog that the codebreakers of the Empire faced. Especially now in wartime.
What had been uncovered was the source of the signal, Neshtab, a frozen tundra of a world. Another insignificance on its own, yet the importance such a location embodied was magnified by wherethat frozen rock floated in the galaxy. Straddling the Imperial and the Galactic Alliance’s spheres of influence.
It was this very significance that deemed it worth the resources to involve the Imperial Security Bureau. Not a full strike team, of course. No, not for a lead that may turn out to be a wild bantha chase. But a solitary agent, sent to discover the planetside location of the signal, was considered to be a worthy allocation of resources.
Neshtab, Planetside, Unknown Listening Post
Numb fingers worked at the locking mechanism of the access hatch, the tools in them frigid to the touch. Such delicate work was, to say the very least, improbable to do under such circumstances.
What circumstances were these? Why, in the dark of night of course. The wind whipped wildly in a manner that would have told the tale of a coming storm to a less ignorant listener. But even now snow was kicked up from the ground, blowing viciously into Iseri’s face.
The cold had long ago penetrated the layers of his coat, a simple thing that could have belonged to any spacer from any number of market stalls. It served the purpose of discretion wonderfully. When it came to keeping Iseri from shaking against the cold, well, poor marks were well deserved. Yet, such was the price for anonymity. It wouldn't have done to show up sporting a pressed ISB uniform with polished bars on the breast. In that coat, fuzzy hat and lack of gloves of his, Iseri could have been anyone. Just another stranger passing through.
A stranger that just so happened to find their way to an outpost in the middle of a tundra, that was forcing their way past a near military grade lock. Not suspicious in the slightest.
“Come on, just a little to the left…”
A clank, a hiss, and the screech of metal on metal trumpeted a victory. The door released, and slid about half a foot before stopping. Which told Iseri two things. One, that the station was on reserve power at best. Second, he was about to have a sore shoulder.
Iseri forced the door, just enough to squeeze through, and scrambled inside. It was cold. Not as mercilessly cold as outside, but breath still fogged in the air. The most unsettling thing, though, was how eerily quiet it was. There was but the faintest hum, a vibration in the walls, that told the tale that power still lingered in the station. Possibly just enough to keep the dim, yellowish lights along the walls and the passage ahead lit.
That, and potentially whatever transmitter was broadcasting that ping.
Drawing a flashlight from somewhere on his belt, clicking it on, and casting the beam around the room revealed nothing worthy of note. Void, unassuming durasteel walls, empty shelves and furnitature haphazardly stacked in the far corner. No giant, bright flashing terminal that flashed 'Secrets Here'. A rather disappointing discovery. Naturally, of course, the beam of light found its way cast down the corridor. And it was then that Iseri’s breath caught in his throat, as the beam of light revealed a cold, hard truth.
He was not alone here.