First Reply Operation Silent Talon

[Deanez]

The compound sat like a tooth in the dark, glass ribs catching the last sliver of moonlight. Dean moved on the map more like a shape than a person; precise, with an economy of motion, every step accounted for. Her armor flexed beneath the cloak; her dual phase-blades were secured and dark. This mission was not about spectacle. It was about getting one person out whole, and taking whatever answers rode with them.

Her HUD layered thermal sweeps over the façade: patrol cadence, blind spots, a camera loop timed to three minutes. The intel said the subject was under guarded custody inside a transit bay; lethal force would jeopardize the retrieval and the operation's political cover. Capture, extraction, and minimal trace. That was the brief. That was the constraint.

She crouched at an access grate and ran one last mental checklist: entry route, non-lethal subdual tools, suppression charges set to stun frequencies, knock-out dart calibrations, medpatches, contingency recall. The night smelled of oil and old rain. Her breath measured itself. Calm. Deliberate.

Sable Talon toggled the open channel to TALON-3 long enough to drop a single, low-burst ping: "In position. West access. Awaiting Overwatch & Breach confirmation."

The compound hummed. The exfil window would be exact; success would depend on timing and the team she could slot into place. She did not plan to run this alone — not tonight.

(OPEN — drop in as overwatch, breach partner, extraction pilot, local contact, or anything that gets us this subject out alive. Reply as your operative and take your point. No lethal engagements; non-lethal ROE enforced in-thread.)

 

[Aknoby]

Aknoby was even surprised at how strange the guards' routes seemed; they were very far apart from each other, and he could easily get in with a combination of camouflage technology and Force powers for infiltration. Laphisto apparently saw no problem with letting the young Chiss participate in this mission, considering how he seemed to have a natural talent for disappearing from the presence of everything and everyone.

"I'm on the roof of the north wing. You have one minute to get to an entrance before the guard passes your position, then you have five minutes until the next one. The surveillance must be better inside."

He spoke in Cheunh, the language of the Chiss, so that any insects listening in on the transmission would at least not understand where they were.

"After you confirm your entry, I'll come in from above."

He checked his non-lethal equipment, including making sure his lightsaber was in non-lethal mode. He stayed low on the roof, waiting.

 

[Deanez]

She shifted her position atop the ridge, settling into partial cover where the red dust carried little of her scent. Eyes tracked the faint shimmer of his camouflage field as he moved toward the vent, methodical, deliberate, careful not to disturb the natural shadows.

Timing… cadence… posture. She catalogued every motion with clinical precision. Each step aligned with her expectations; minor deviations were noted and filed for later adjustment.

"Window is tight," she murmured, voice low, more to herself than to him. Her hand hovered near her hilt, ready but unmoving. "Predictable crossings in three minutes. Stay low. Don't make noise that isn't necessary."

Her gaze swept ahead, scanning patrol routes, vents, and environmental hazards. A faint vibration ran along the ridge under her boots, confirming stability. She noted the thermal fluctuations along his path — pulse and breath regular, no panic, yet alert. Good.

Her tone remained steady over the comm: "Ingress confirmed. The Eastern vent approach is optimal. I will maintain overwatch. Extraction point remains static unless contingencies arise. Move with intent, not haste."

She adjusted her stance, letting the wind shift the dust to give a cleaner line of sight. The moment stretched: observation, analysis, readiness. Every second accounted for — every potential failure calculated.

When the time came, Dean dropped from the ridge with silent precision, landing lightly on the red dust. No unnecessary noise, no sudden movements, only the controlled cadence of someone trained to move through hostile terrain without announcing themselves.

She crouched low, scanning the approach to the eastern vent. Thermal fluctuations indicated Aknoby's position within, still moving deliberately. Patrol patterns remained predictable, but any misstep could expose them both. She adjusted her breathing, her hand brushing the hilt of her blade, just enough to remind herself it was there.

"Keep your pace steady," she murmured, low, almost to herself, as she advanced. The shadows of jagged spires swallowed her outline; she was barely more than a flicker in the dust haze.

Approaching the vent, she crouched at the entrance, inspecting the interior briefly with a trained eye—no immediate threats. The space inside was tight, confined, but familiar in its tactical challenges. She allowed herself a fraction of patience, then slipped inside, silent and precise.

Once within, her senses extended, scanning for Aknoby and any unforeseen obstacles. Each movement was deliberate — a slow step, a careful breath, a shadow maintained. She had entered not to dominate but to ensure the mission proceeded without error.

"Confirm your position," she said softly, voice a controlled whisper, "and maintain awareness of patrol cadence. I follow your path, but only as far as necessity dictates."

Aknoby

Her presence was a shadow, unseen but unmistakable to anyone who might have been watching too closely. Observation had become action; calculation had become movement. She was in the field now, entirely.

 

[Aknoby]

Aknoby waited for confirmation, slowly entering through the north roof and finding a position on the beams. The north area is a huge pavilion, seemingly designed to impress visitors and investors.

Politicking, he thought, remembering one of his classes at the Brotherhood. He remained silent, listening to Dean as he moved along the beams. The patrols on that side still seemed to be on duty, and the guard who saw him looked bored.

"There's something suspicious here."

He whispered and as he moved, he used the Force to make himself harder to be noticed by beings and objects. Even to Dean, using the Force, the young man should appear as nothing more than a tiny blur in the Force.

He stopped and listened to footsteps. His senses screamed to hide high up as metallic footsteps approached. The ceiling wasn't as high as at the entrance, but it would have to do.

He jumped up as best he could and saw two heavy, heavily armed black droids passing by, their HUD transmitting what they saw to Dean.

The deeper they went, the heavier the patrols became in more ways than one. He waited for the droids to pass and followed silently, letting the images he captured speak for him.

Deanez

 

[Deanez]

Dean's eyes flicked across the pavilion's interior, scanning the beams and structural shadows as Aknoby moved. Even through the Force, his presence was faint, a shimmer against the ambient flow, but detectable with attention. She noted his adjustments — the subtle modulation of his aura — and silently catalogued them.


The first two black droids passed beneath, their HUD relaying visual data. She tracked their paths and internalized the information: patrol spacing, armament, sensor ranges, blind spots. Aknoby's position was ideally high and concealed, and yet she remained aware of the risk a misjudgment here could compromise both of them.

"Two droids, east corridor," she murmured under her breath, hand resting lightly on the hilt of her combat knife. "High traffic increases from here. Adjust trajectory to maintain cover. Target: Veylan Dreth. Mid-tier operative. Observe and document movement; extraction not initiated until intel is confirmed."

She moved silently along a parallel beam, shadowed by structural supports, eyes never leaving the next patrol's path. The Force resonated faintly with Aknoby's movements — a ripple she tracked without interference, noting his effectiveness without needing to intervene.

Every step, every pause, every breath was deliberate. The pavilion stretched wide, the beams above polished to impress, but she remained focused on utility rather than architecture. Observation had become symphony, movement became strategy, and every heartbeat was accounted for.

Aknoby

 

[Aknoby]

Aknoby continued in the indicated direction as the layout of the place changed. The ceiling became lower, ceasing to be something absurd to impress and now becoming something utilitarian. He made a mental note of this and immediately held back from cursing.

A small employee recognition station, narrow entrance, no windows or air ducts.

All the ideas that came to his mind were risky but also a good way to test the efficiency of the place. He approached as close as he could without attracting attention and focused, using the Force to navigate the devices inside the security booth, then decided to send a short circuit through the power cable, but unfortunately for him, a guard got stuck between the entrance.

"Damn, I took too long,"

he whispered into the communicator.

"Well, I ended up causing a distraction, take advantage of it!"

Deanez

 

[Deanez]

Static hissed softly in her earpiece as the lights below flickered. Dean's eyes narrowed, scanning the sudden ripple in movement — a guard caught mid-step, confusion breaking through routine. The hum of power lines faltered; the faint smell of ozone reached even the rafters.

"Kark," she breathed under her breath, the word quiet but edged.

Her gaze tracked the shifting patrol pattern, mapping the deviation before it could spread. Every instinct pressed her toward motion — the clean response, the strike to neutralize threat — but the mission parameters held firm in her mind like a blade drawn to balance. Observation. Documentation. Non-lethal intervention only if operational integrity collapsed.

She exhaled once, measured. "Hold position if you can," she murmured through the comm, her voice low and controlled. "I will not compromise the primary objective. Maintain your concealment — let the distraction run its course."

From her vantage, she adjusted her stance, aligning sightlines toward the guard's patrol arc. If engagement was required, she could drop, be silent, and retreat in under five seconds. But the mission came first — always first.

Dean remained perfectly still, eyes locked on movement patterns, every fiber tuned to the rhythm of consequence. If Aknoby recovered quickly, she wouldn't have to move at all. If not, the next five seconds would decide how quiet this operation stayed.

She flexed her fingers once against the hilt of her knife, feeling the cool weight settle like an argument in the palm of her hand. Route plotted: a clean drop two beams to the south, shadowed approach, clamp the throat of the guard if he lifts his head, carry him silent and flat to the ventilation shaft for containment. Exit in four steps. If the guard panics, pivot to suppression and draw back—no more than necessary.

The plan mapped itself with the same methodical ease she used to catalog threats. Her breath slowed, heartbeat evened; training translated risk into choreography. Still, a slight, involuntary curl tugged at the corner of her thought—an observation as spare as it was clear. He is older, technically, but in moments like this, he moves with the impatience of a child testing the edge of a blade.

She let the thought sit there, cool and useless as a fine stone, then folded it into something she could use. A tease, when this was done. Soft, surgical: a remark to puncture his self-importance and steady him. Not for cruelty—maintenance of focus.

Quiet on the comm, almost private: "Keep still. Breathe. When you're back in one piece, I will remind you how reckless children look when they try to be clever." The words were dry, measured—half reprimand, half light pressure. Then she shifted, movement becoming the calculation again, and prepared to move if the moment demanded.

Aknoby

 

[Aknoby]

He snorted softly; it wasn't his fault that the place had well-guarded areas. He observed the checkpoint in the dark and made a gesture, causing the stuck door to unjam and the guard to leave.

Taking a deep breath and fading further from the perception of everything and everyone, he passed under the guard's line of sight and the watchtower, continuing to move with concentration and radio silence until he reached something not mapped by intelligence.

A fork in the corridor, with an elevator on the left and a ramp leading upwards on the right. He swallowed any interjaction he had and let the HUD send the unmapped fork to Deanez.

Deanez

 

[Deanez]

Dean's voice remained low and clipped over the comm. "Fork acknowledged. Elevator left, ramp right. Both routes present variable risk. Use the ramp — it offers better visibility of patrols and fewer dead zones. Maintain concealment. I am observing from above — any unnecessary deviation will be noted and corrected. Proceed deliberately, Aknoby."

She scanned the corridor from her vantage, noting lighting sources, shadows, and the faint hum of machinery. "Do not engage unless absolutely required. Your priority is intel, not confrontation. Any anomaly, and I will guide you through it. Move with purpose, not haste — small errors compound in enclosed spaces."

Her tone carried subtle weight, almost imperceptible admonishment. Still acts like a child at times, she thought, filing the observation away. For now, he was competent enough to follow direction — and that was all that mattered.

Keep it tight. I want the target — not a firefight, not a spectacle.

"Target confirmed: Veylan Dreth. You acquire, you record, you leave. No kills, no signature. I will maintain overwatch and control extraction."

Objectives (in order):

1. Identify — get visual confirmation of Veylan Dreth. Facial/biometric scan and any visible courier/manifest data.
2. Document — secure an unbroken data packet: two clear images (face + profile), one short audio clip if possible, and telemetry of movement (pathing for the next 20 minutes).
3. Tag — if opportunity is low-risk, apply a micro-tracker to non-critical kit (bag, sleeve seam). Do not attempt implantation or anything invasive.
4. Exfil — withdraw to extraction point Alpha (roofline access, west seam). Do not linger after confirmation.

Rules of engagement:

• Non-lethal only. Avoid attention.
• If confronted, prioritize concealment and escape over engagement. Do not attempt to fight patrols.
• If you must engage to survive, minimize noise and leave no forensic signature.

Timing & cadence:

• Five-minute window from when you reach the ramp to confirm the target and begin withdrawal. If you cannot confirm within five minutes, withdraw and reroute to contingency B (north service shaft).
• Report every ninety seconds with a two-word status: Observe / Tag / Fail / Exfil.

Contingency:
If the situation is compromised beyond recovery, abort phrase "Blackthorn." Upon that phrase, I will draw immediate suppression and enact extraction. Do not say it lightly.

A hard, dry note — and then the edge she allowed herself: "Act like you mean it. Stop behaving like a child testing edges and start behaving like someone who intends to leave with intact data and both lungs."

She paused, then added, clipped and unhelpful as ever: "Proceed. I am watching. Move like you have something to lose."

She hated having to work with the adult child, but they had a job to do, and they would complete the mission.

Aknoby

 

[Aknoby]

He just rolls his eyes silently and takes a deep breath, now completely disappearing from the Force's perception and becoming practically invisible to the eyes and equipment.

He follows the long ramp; they were already in another area of the laboratory complex, so he wasn't surprised at how long it would take, just slightly irritated. The ramp climbed and curved and climbed, and the low ceiling gave him few options when he had to get out of the way of guards and androids, but everything went well. so he reached the end of the high ramp and... looking down, he saw a huge laboratory complex. It would take time, but something was wrong.

He sensed something in the Force, scanning. He remained calm. He was well camouflaged against it, but...

"Back off, someone or some people are scanning using the Force. I'm well camouflaged."

He sighed after whatever it was left the distance. The laboratory complex is huge, it would take time, he moves patiently and hopes he can do his part in time!

Deanez

 

[Deanez]

Dean's voice came over the comm, low and clipped, precise. "Acknowledged. Maintain concealment. The sweep you sensed is likely a passive probe — do not engage or react unnecessarily. Continue along the ramp, curves, and elevation will conceal you. Time is limited; you have five minutes from the ramp to reach the target and begin withdrawal. Move deliberately, but efficiently."

Her eyes scanned the laboratory complex from above, noting shadowed entry points and patrol paths. "Focus on pathing and timing. Avoid overextension — detection for speed is pointless. I will intervene only if an anomaly forces me to. This is your maneuver, Aknoby, not mine. Act with care, but act."

She allowed a fraction of thought to slip in, almost silently: Still acts like a child. Needs reminding that the clock is ticking, or he'll waste it rushing blindly. Her tone carried that edge anyway.

"Precision and observation are more valuable than haste, but do not dawdle," she added over the comm. "Anticipate, watch, note, and confirm. You will make it through — only if you act like someone who knows what they're doing, not someone playing at being invisible. You have five minutes."

Her crimson eyes lingered on the ramp below, tracking his path even without touching it through the Force. "Do not waste this window."

Aknoby