On the Fringes of Sanity

[Davin Jusik]

Amin stood silently on an observation deck aboard the Executrix Class Star Destroyer Indomitable Will in a moment of contemplation. Staring into the Black tended to provide one with a sort of deep self reflection, followed by either joy at the sheer vastness of the galaxy or acute existential dread. The FOSB Agent tended to fall somewhere in the middle. Life was life as the galaxy was the galaxy, and things were the way they were. Likely as they'd always been. Sure one could shift about names or cosmic events but they were really just a part of a continuing cycle that spanned billions of years. Time immeasurable by any living beings standards.

He gave a slight grunt and continued eyeing the swirling mass of stars with that same unflinching iron gaze that made him an uneasy presence to those unaccustomed to such folk. Not that he was an emotionless shell or soulless psychopath. The man was a wolf. With a demeanor and general air that left no clues as to his background beyond the hunger and fury that lay just behind his eyes, if one knew how to tell. Most would simply take him for an intense civilian or someone totally lost in their thoughts if they bumped into him on the street, but it was not so. Amin had committed his life fully to the cause of bringing Imperial Order to the First Order. His subsequent FOSB training and own personal revelations of late had left him more of a zealot than during his trooper days.

A fanatic. Even to those considered fanatics by the rest of the galaxy. He'd begun garnering a reputation as one who punished degeneracy among First Order Systems with death, where others hoped to reform or capture. His weakness had went when the Order had stripped his name from him, to become a nameless wandering enforcer of the Supreme Leader's will, or a deceiver who mercilessly stalked his prey.

This was the man who awaited the arrival of [member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"] patiently in a simple black utility uniform.

There was work to be done.

 

[Roderik von Brinkerhoff]

Roderik von Brinkerhoff was not generally one for being tardy under any circumstances. It was not necessarily a lasting mark of his military bearing and discipline, but was deeper than that. Lateness was simply a matter of being impolite, and showed the person's inner weakness of laziness, or ineptitude, or some horrible combination thereof.

Commander Roderik would not ever consider himself, however erroneously, a member of the aristocracy, but he none the less employed the niceties that they developed through their culture and society. At least when it came to being late. Which is why he arrived appropriately early for the otherwise impromptu meeting with an Agent of the FOSB. Roderik had intended to secure the first available shuttle to Dosuun to report, again, quite early, to his newest duty assignment: raising a new batch of pilots to future esteemed careers.

However, surprise and redirection was almost always an unavoidable side-effect of miscommunication between High Command. It was not the first time such an event had played out, and hopefully would not be the last. This time, however, felt a little different.

Roderik stood near the turbolift stations directly adjacent to the observation deck of the mighty Star Destroyer. He had arrived a moment before, perhaps even a stalled second moment -- he had the time to spare. He used the time to, aptly enough, observe the observation deck. Playing a game of, 'spot what's wrong', looking for the person who didn't quite fit in to the scenery. The person Roderik was instructed to meet.

He thought he had spotted his man in [member="Rick Müller"], and set his course with long strides, to meet him and ascertain for certain.

 

[Davin Jusik]

Amin felt more than heard [member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"] 's approach. Not in any sort of mystical manner as a force user might, but through sharpened instincts and heightened awareness of his surrounding. He turned about and was greeted with the face of the man whose Service File he'd viewed several days earlier. The Agent glanced at his watch before extending his hand. Punctual. A warm smile from the FOSB Operative was the reward for his values, something that Amin rarely gave, particularly in it's genuine form.

"Commander. Good to meet you, glad you could make it on such short notice. I require your particular skillset on a mission of utmost importance." He said to Roderik in a cheerful tone.

From what he read in the file and how the Pilot approached him, Amin had a rather positive first impression. If his skills were true to the written word the Commander would be more than capable of completing the mission and execution of the will of the Supreme Leader. The only worry was a small hint that Amin picked up from both the file and the eyes. The worry that this man might have too much of the morality imposed upon him by either personal experience or nurture. One that created a chance for an otherwise reliable man to perhaps fail at his duty if it was unsavory. At this time though it was merely a flash, a thought Amin quickly discarded.

 

[Roderik von Brinkerhoff]

The Commander picked up immediately on the cheerfulness in which the Agent spoke, and whether or not this disarmed him or instead allowed the genuinely, intensely jovial nature of Roderik to emerge was just a matter of semantics.

"Good to be of service," Roderik began, his eyes flashing a bit with excitement. He was honestly not sure if the FOSB Agent was aware of his current status as a transitioning officer, which meant he had not been authorized for active flight duties for the duration. He hadn't been in the cockpit in nearly three weeks -- a lifetime, for a pilot. The need and excitement to fly, for whatever off-the-books mission was necessary, was almost immediately palpable.

"What can I do for you today?" He almost added a please.

[member="Rick Müller"]

 

[Davin Jusik]

"Trouble on Thakwaa." Amin replied as he began to walk and motioned for [member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"] to walk with him. The Agent himself had rather recent and somewhat intense memories of the world. During his service as a trooper he'd led a Platoon onto the field, where he'd ruthlessly done his duty.

"You'll need to pick out a small squadron to assist ground forces in the elimination of a large sect of natives that has continued to cause the Order issues in spite of the subjugation of the rest of the planet. While their technology in generally more primitive in nature this particular sect has displayed an affinity for warfare. They have heavy weapons capable of burning through TIEs and APCs alike. Command wants this kept as quite as possible, as to keep relations with the compliant natives as civil as possible. " Amin said in a matter of fact tone. The true objective of the mission, the real reason why the FO didn't simply bring down the mighty hammer of their might in it's entirety, was to capture the ringleader of this surprisingly sophisticated sect. The FOSB was interested in why this group had managed to push through enough of the population's natural "issues" to effectively resist Imperial occupation better than the entire planet had in previous months.

This was known only to Amin.

"You'll have until 0900 tomorrow to pick your team and have them in the hangar bay, ready to execute. If they give you any problems, let me know." He continued, leaving the cold note hanging before passing the pilot a file that contained the mission specs, known hostiles, location of insertion of friendlies, and the path they planned to take into the fray. "You've been given full autonomy on how many TIEs and what classifications of starship you think would suit the mission best."

"Any questions?"

 

[Roderik von Brinkerhoff]

Roderik found himself clenching his jaw, strongly enough to grind his teeth as he walked along side the agent and listened to the basics. The commander regained his bearings again quickly, his composure never truly dampened short of the gritting of his teeth.

This was not anxiety nor a lack of stomach for the mission at hand, whatever the full truth of it may be. No, this was more of a shock to the nature of Roderik's preferred style of flight. He fancied himself the epitome of a fighter pilot. He had many a time used the same derogatory digs at TIE Bomber pilots, as other strictly fighter pilots made. 'You're either a fighter or a target' generally meant anything with a ground ordnance could not respectably be called a starfighter.

And this was sounding disturbingly like a Ground Attack mission.

But, again, it had been too long since the Commander had flown. This was better than nothing, even if enhancing his air-to-ground kill statistics would undoubtedly cause him snide remarks in his future. The pilot's ready room was a den of vipers, most of the time.

"0900, anything I want, no questions asked." He had no questions as he took the data file, only one off-hand remark.

"Why can't everything be this easy?" [member="Rick Müller"]

 

[Davin Jusik]

"Well then it wouldn't be fun would it?" Amin replied rhetorically with a chuckle to the remark before leaving, headed towards the room allotted to him for the duration of the expedition. The Agent went through his nightly routine of a hour treadmill run followed by a few hours of heavy meditation on the day's events. Not that such concepts really mattered in vacuum, or even where they were headed in the morning. 0900 FO Standard Time was roughly dawn on the savage world they'd soon ravage a portion of. The morning brought no initial surprises. He awoke fresh faced and donned his camouflaged armor in a near ritualized fashion before heading towards the hangar bay at a quicktime pace. A short time later he found himself in the hangar bay, rounding up the Stormtrooper platoon that was to accompany him into the thick and unforgiving forests on the world that sat bellow them.

One last check was to be made before the 0900 liftoff. With the troopers loaded onto an appropriate gunship Amin went to the fighter bay in search of [member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"] .

(OOC: Last post of the evening, night!)

 

[Roderik von Brinkerhoff]

Finding a compromise for ground-attack, while still maintaining agility and cockpit familiarity turned out to be surprisingly easy for Captain Brinkerhoff. The TIE/sf starfighter, which his soon-to-be-future command consisted of, were already available to him aboard the star destroyer. Roderik found himself capable of temporarily requisitioning two flights of the starfighters with little complaint. The TIE/sf was itself a versatile starfighter, designed for space superiority roles, it also carried a smaller but acceptable payload of what could be used as air-to-ground missiles.

This coupled with a dedicated on-board gunner made the starfighter a surprisingly lethal ground strike choice.

The agility, coupled with deflector shields for last-ditch defense, sounded beneficial as well, if the agent were correct about the capabilities of the enemy.

Roderik could be found by [member="Rick Müller"] near one of the starfighters, speaking with a munitions technician about the nuances of loading and unloading concussion missile warheads.

 

[Davin Jusik]

The steel gray interior of the vessel stood in stark contrast to the environment that would soon envelop the entirety of the strike force, even if they only saw it from behind a viewport overlooking the dense jungles. Those on the ground would be unfortunate enough to experience the lush biosphere in it's entirety. From mosquitoes, blistering heat, and trench foot; to the rabid band of demented warriors that awaited them. Though they had yet to know.

Amin approached [member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"] and spoke in a slightly officious tone. "Captain, ready?"

He didn't feel the need to run over details that the experienced Star Fighter Leader would've certainly already mulled over before the Agent had even awoken. The FOSB representative found such conversations to carry an overt feeling of micromanaging, especially when dealing with one of assumed competence.