The Far Star
In Lanteeb Orbit
It was something in Watcher-Four’s sense of humor that made him behave as he did, quietly painting the air within his influence in holographic charts and graphs of data which rendered impossibly complex information into something easily digestible at a glance. This was true even for someone like Tyger Tyger, who didn’t spend half as much time reading as he probably should have. A gentle smirk tugged at the features of the officer-in-lights, unassuming in his work as he waited, content in the knowledge that Milo would eventually be consulting him, just as soon as the privateer got over his initial denial.
“I don’t know that it --,” Tyger Tyger started, downplaying the potential catastrophe at hand. Again, he would be made to regret it almost instantly as Sioux’s message returned, indicating that @Natasi Forlan had, indeed, gone missing under what would easily register as more critical circumstances.
“Mrmph,” he grumbled in irritation, giving way to a,
“…kaaaaark,” as he finally accepted what occurred.
Tyger Tyger had been caught sleeping on the job.
Not a good look.
Needless to say, he was chagrined.
“’Aw, kark,’” Watcher-Four mocked, his voice sardonically monotonous and devoid of any emotional contagion, having clearly been more interested in finishing up the last of his Intelligence preparation of Lanteeb.
“Don’t you worry a second, Tyger Tyger, if you’re lost, you can look, and you will find me. Time after Time.”
Tyger Tyger stood from the sofa-thing and wandered over to the holocommunicator, looking over synthesized data.
“If you fall, I will catch you, I’ll be waiting. Time after time.”
Watcher-Four passed him two of particular importance – a security risk assessment concerning violent extremism in Lanteeb (there wasn’t any), as well as an intelligence report assessing the Lanteebian humans which had been instrumental to the First Order in the early days of diplomatic relations that would one day build into the planetary-state’s joining of the greater bodypolitik (why there wasn’t any).
“So, this wasn’t an inside job,” Tyger Tyger thought aloud, bouncing his own analysis off of the holographic Intel Guru before him.
“If it were, it would defy all current models in place.”
“…no safe house, either – Got no mass base support…,” Tyger Tyger continued, riffing on his own. He didn’t say it aloud, but he intuitively recognized that he would need to cut them off at the spaceport.
“Lanteeb is the Order’s lowest common denominator, toiling in a failing industry –“
Watcher-Four swiped, bringing up economic linkages showing the depreciation of
damotite against
trenomite.
“—It’s not exactly the Galaxy’s Best City for Young Professionals. With low demand, there is only a single spaceport offworld. And that’s currently on lockdown.”
“They didn’t expect to get caught. Trash intel…unless…”
An ace.
“Mhmm,” Watcher-Four indulged.
“You may ask me one question, and one question only. I’m quite busy, after all.”
Tyger Tyger thought for a moment. It had seemed they had gone over everything. They had addressed how Lanteeb was a bad target, where the culprit was likely taking Natasi, and that there was likely a powerful known unknown in play, giving the adversary some sense of advantage even against these incredible odds. Jedi, likely, sure, but Tyger Tyger was by no means closer to finding his mark.
They had to be from offworld.
So, maybe there was an angle there.
“Got a demographic breakdown?”
“Interesting,” Watcher-Four said with a grin, providing the requesting pie chart.
Lanteeb was overwhelmingly human.
Diversity was present in less than 1%.
“The Lanteebians were gracious to join the First Order, as the Supreme Leader respected their anti-alien laws. What’s more, it returned them all home with nationalized industry. They no longer had to journey abroad to fill menial labor positions. They are a…provincial people, Tyger Tyger. Hence the popularity of a sport involving fast, bright engines going around in circles repeatedly.”
One by one, the intelligence data dropped away from the holocall, the windows disappearing like an operating system logging off.
“There’s a hangar reserved for security personnel resolving trying situations such as these. VICTOR- PSI- TANGO- THREE- THREE- THREE- OSCAR. Happy hunting.”
And with that, Watcher-Four ended the call.
With a hurry in his step, Tyger Tyger moved to the cockpit of the Far Star, hailing the starport as he made plans to dock.
It took its time, as could be expected. Milo sat in his chair, hunched forward in anticipation as he watched the glowing sphere of Lanteeb through the viewport, watched the emptiness of space and the Naval Carriers dropping from hyperspace to fill it and enforce the planetary lockdown. Finally, there was an answer over his comms. It was a pleasant voice made for human resources, but her stress was evident from her first word.
“We apologize, sir – We are experiencing an inordinately high volume due to the Grand Prix…an issue that has not been remedied by the lockdown currently in effect. I’m afrai—“
Tyger Tyget cut her off. After all, he knew the score better than she did.
“VICTOR-PSI-TANGO-THREE-THREE-OSCAR.”
There was a slight pause, her customer service ending with an abrupt.
“Just one moment, please.”
Again, silence. A soft clamor of feet against durasteel announced to the room (him) that he was now graced with Leia’s presence. He swiveled around his chair to find her holding up a drawing done in wax crayons. It was the two of them, he assumed: His avatar taller, rifle-bearing, and with always way more arms for some reason. Hers, noticeably fewer arms, and a single horizontal line for an expression.
Tyger Tyger tossed her an approving thumbs-up, its sincerity obvious. Leia chuckled soundlessly, then scampered off.
“Sir, this is the Chief Security Officer with the Lanteeban Starport. You have been approved for landing in our reserve hangar, at your convenience…” The officer’s voice was a mixture of relief and confusion. He sought to remedy the latter.
“Sir, have you any updates on the situation? We’ve been maintaining protocol, but we’ve been provided scant details regarding Moff Fortan and her potential captors – Frankly, sir, we just aren’t sure what you need us to do.”
Tyger Tyger input a few commands on his datascreen, plotting the trajectory to the starport and his landing.
“Well, guy, you’re in luck, because I have some orders for you.”
There was a sudden pull as the Far Star began to move, turning into the Lanteeb’s atmosphere.
“Spread it around to all channels: Detain any and all non-human sentients. Inform higher the second you do.”
It was a ridiculous request, sure, and would never have a chance of being permissible in a democratic society…
“As soon as I land, I'll need a registry of every ship that's passed through you over the last 24 hours.”
Fortunately, the First Order was anything but.
[member="Natasi Fortan"] [member="Katya Shorn"]
