Our Cup Runneth Over [FOSB]

[Dresden Verbrennung]

The office didn't look like much.

It rested in the bowels of an old, theoretically abandoned office building. The whole building smelled of damp and dust, the musty odor of disuse and neglect. The FOSB had picked it up for a song a few years back and had quietly remodeled the sublevels. They couldn't, or more accurately, wouldn't, do anything about the smell, but they had at least converted the basement floors into something marginally habitable for most humanoids.

The office still looked like crap.

Cheap drywall painted institutional white, furniture that wouldn't have made the cut in a low budget skin flick, exposed pipes and wires in the ceiling, it practically screamed "the contractors are disposable, don't hire anyone that'll be missed." Which was, basically, what happened. The FO might play at respectability, but in the shadows, none of that mattered. You either did what you had to, or the next ruthless bastard to come along cleaned your clock.

That was a world Dresden was intimately familiar with. He too had played at respectability for a time, but in the end, this was what he came back to. What felt like home.

So that was why he was meeting in the bowels of a mostly abandoned megascraper with a nervous looking colonel from IA. She refused to give her name. Wasn't much to look at, about five foot nothing, mousy brown hair that had clearly been dyed from something brighter, nondescript face that looked to be the work of a half decent biosculptor, no makeup to speak of. In shape, but not a workout freak. She was trying so hard to look normal and unnoticeable, the former merc didn't have the heart to tell her she tripped about a dozen red flags for anyone who knew their way around a clandestine meeting. She'd go far working Internal Affairs for the military, but man oh man, was she out of her league here.

Dresden hadn't even tried to disguise himself. There wasn't much point. At near as not two meters tall, he stood out in a crowd regardless. He wore his usual attire: olive drab cargo pants, gray T-shirt, brown leather jacket with plenty of pockets. His only concession to the colonel's paranoia was the absence of overt weaponry, but just about every pocket bulged with something unnatural and generally explosive in nature, and his rifle was leaned up against the wall.

An unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, and a can of a popular brand of energy drink occupied his left hand. His right hand fiddled with a lighter. He needed a smoke, badly, but he wanted to see who showed up first. Like any clandestine organization, the FOSB attracted its fair share of characters. Most folks had this idea of secret agents being invisible, able to blend into a crowd at a moment's notice. Like the colonel here. Unfortunately, the real world rarely fit the holodrama. It was a useful skill, sure, but acting like you were trying to blend in made you stand out more to someone who knew how to look.

This sort of work tended to attract individualists. It seemed counterintuitive, but being a spy required a high degree of independence and intelligence, two traits that just didn't work in the regular army or police forces, especially under a totalitarian regime.

Dresden believed in what the First Order stood for. He had seen his fair share of disorder and mayhem, had served the Republic until its collapse, and while he didn't know necessarily that he agreed with their methods, he agreed with their results. The average Joe gave not one single solitary kark whose flag flew above their office building, so long as they had food, shelter, and a steady supply of holodramas to fry their brains. The FO had the best chance of bringing that level of security to the greatest number of people, so, when it came time to look for a new home, he moved here.

Given his background, his skills as a sniper and a demo man, and his reputation for being spooky good at planning, the FOSB was a natural fit. He wouldn't last a day as a stormtrooper, but here, he could make a difference in his own inimitable way.

It was his reputation for planning that had led him here, to this crappy office, meeting with the try-hard IA colonel. He didn't know the details, but there was a shindig going down, some sort of party, and he was tasked to help plan the security setup. Other agents might show up, he was warned, or they might not. This wasn't officially an assignment, not yet. It was a brainstorming session. Attendance was not compulsory, and if it was, that would almost guarantee no one showed up. Because, you know, individualists.

And since they were individualists, with their own distinct idiosyncrasies, his cigarette stayed unlit. The last thing he needed was for someone to show up and take offense to his smoking.

 

[Lancer Damar]

The building was about as decrepit as the people inside. He was stopped as soon as he entered the building, two scruffy-looking FOSB agents in plainclothes frisking him. He didn't say anything. They were expecting him, although- they had nothing on him. Lancer stopped existing in any official capacity after the collapse of the One Sith. He was born on a backwater planet and had no entry in any system anymore- because they no longer existed. One would have to dig very hard and through very old computers to find one Lancer Damar. Lancer Damar operated under the name 'Happy' in most places. Happy was contacted through a courier that was hired by a contact that was bribed by a man in a gray uniform to come get Happy for a job. A unique job, at that.

Lancer Damar wasn't here to kill anyone. He was here to stop, and prevent the possibility of someone getting killed.

Lancer was not a military man anymore. Although he still walked the part. As his weapons and equipment was removed by the agents, and neatly set into a plastic box, Lancer was directed with a guided hand to a room. He walked silently. Not just by not saying anything, but in the way he moved. It was partly due to the attire and how he layered it, but also by how he walked. His hair bounced as he came into the room, and the agents that led him in stayed at their posts. It wasn't worth their careers to overhear a fairly mandatory and uninteresting plot on how to supposedly kill people at a party.

Lancer took a seat at the table, at the non-dramatic side, facing the IA Colonel. He wasn't sure who either of the people were, or what their names were. And they probably didn't buy that his name was Happy. He leaned back in his dingy chair in the dingy room, surrounded by fairly dingy people, and folded his hands on his lap.

"Am I early?"

He wasn't. He was so on time and punctual, that when he sat down, it was the time given for him to meet.


[member="Dresden Verbrennung"]

 

[Zeradias Mant]

Kuril had worked in a number of settings with the Avalonia Capitol Police and Dosuun Planetary Guard, though none were quite as inconspicuous or as bleak as the current. The First Order was big on military balls, and the First Order Security Bureau was charged with the safety and security of those in attendance. As a part of the security minister's ongoing efforts to assert the bureau's place in the First Order, certain countermeasures were put in place to ensure the secrecy of their operations. That precluded even those within their own government.

Vetted thoroughly by the bureau, everyone present or that was to make an appearance was selected because they had value to the larger mission at hand. The former head of the Galactic Republic's Senate Guard, Dresden Verbrennung was chosen as the head of the security detail and would be taking point on the meeting. As Kuril entered the room, the ranking staff officer rose before being seated with Kuril.

He wasn't there to run the show, but he was looking forward to hearing what was in the works for the First Order's future.

"Gentlemen.", he greeted curtly.

[member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="Lancer Damar"]​

 

[Valessia Brentioch]

Valessia entered her office and walked past her secretary Joan Rutherford without so much as a hello, just a resounding thud of data pads that were left at the edge of the desk and a thought as she commented, "I'll talk to you about those once this call is done, Ms. Rutherford." In her return to the Palace, the Brentaalan had been elevated from Ambassador to Undersecretary to Foreign Minister. She had returned from a luncheon with a few executives regarding her parents on her homeworld of Brentaal IV. Arhul and Carmina were looking at assigning their grandson the estate and leaving Valessia as the caretaker until he became of age. This also meant the possibility of consolidating assets with her husband Colonel Creed from his own holdings on Panatha. However, that was neither here nor there she approached the small holo-communicator at the centre of the table, among the many things she had to do the Military Ball was one of them.

It was the 3rd Annual Military Ball, benefiting the Wounded Veterans and Memorial fund. And for the first time it was to not be held on Dosuun, instead, it was being held on Halm which had quickly become a favourite of the Grand Moff. To be more precise it was New Heliopolis that had so captured her heart, and the hearts of many within the First Empire. It was a fascinating land with what seemed to be an exotic feel. Although if you asked Valessia she thought of it as a lovely city in the desert and if citizens from Dosuun wanted to truly feel exotic they could experience the deserts of Yalara just as well. She suspected that the native Noghri were part of why many chose Halm instead these days, or maybe because it was still a new part of the Empire.

At the table, she dialled up a very specific number, one that she was sure would be burned the moment the meeting or rather her involvement with it had concluded.

"I do hope I am not too late," she said in greeting to [member="Kuril Vehn"], and then as she got a look at the others, "gentlemen."

[member="Lancer Damar"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"]​

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

"Am I early?"

"No," Dresden replied with a sigh, "you are not."

Spooks were like wizards. They were never late, and never early. They arrived exactly when they intended. And so they'd swear up and down to their boss when explaining why they showed up to work 15 minutes late every morning. Honestly, it was like herding nexu.

So long as they got the timing right on missions, though, it really didn't matter.

With a glance around the room and a resigned shrug, the former mercenary lit up the cigarette. It was a roll your own, cheap, harsh tobacco inside a hand rolled paper. Dresden rarely smoked store bought. There was a brand he liked, but it was hard to get outside of a few planets in the Mid Rim, down by the Mara Corridor.

"I think we're waiting for a few more folks, but we'll catch them up when they get here. Long story short, the First Order is holding another one of their military balls, and somehow I got tasked with setting up security. If you're here, you're read in on the situation, and you're bright enough that someone thought you could contribute, so I won't waste your time with the usual BS that comes with meetings like this. That's one of the reasons we're meeting here, instead of in some government office, by the way. The less chance of some mid level bureaucrat dropping in to earn brownie points with their boss, the better.

"We'll wait til the whole gang is assembled to start the meeting, but in the mean time, I'd appreciate it if you started your thinking a bit early. While the threat level is low, I intend to operate on the assumption that someone wants to attack the place, and work from there. If we figure out the most likely threats, we can plan appropriate countermeasures. Once we've dealt with the likely threats, we'll move onto the unlikely ones, until we're prepared for everything up to and including previously unknown deities smiting the place. Sound good?"

[member="Kuril Vehn"] [member="Lancer Damar"] [member="Valessia Creed"]

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Emilia walked stiffly through the dull hallways as she descended into the depths of the building. The sickly scent of dank and decay filled her nostrils, and she tilted her head back, slightly repulsed. She grimaced and continued walking. The collar of her ill-fitting starched shirt itched against the bottom of her chin, and the hem of her black pants was bundled on top of each one of her cheap black shoes. She felt naked without her armor, without a uniform, without even a blaster at her hip. She felt out of place, and she looked it too.

She followed the muffled sound of conversation further into the complex, until she found herself outside a drab office. She checked her watch, not too late. She raised her hand, knocked firmly, and stepped inside. She nodded curtly at the people already sitting inside. She only recognized two of them, but anyone familiar with politics knew the foreign minister, even through hologram, and with her background in Cryptolinguistics, the name Kuril Vehn had been shared around more than a few times. Her gazed passed over the two men sitting at the table, one sat silently, the other had been talking to the group, a lit cigarette hanging between his fingers, a small line of smoke drifted from its tip. Emilia made her way to a vacant chair, sitting and casting a hesitant look at the group.

Emilia cleared her throat. "Please, continue."

| [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="Lancer Damar"] | [member="Kuril Vehn"] | [member="Valessia Creed"] |​

 

[Lancer Damar]

"So. Let's discuss how we'd hypothetically kill everyone in the room first. If it were me, I'd exploit a weakness in the catering. Lots of weapon systems can be assembled in two-to-three parts, with minimal metal pieces to avoid detection. We'll have to watch carefully there. If I was a fanatic, I could kill at least ten people with a fully-automatic blaster when they were seated. HME will also be a threat. Strap low-yield explosives to my chest to avoid detection by sensors, and-" Lancer paused to make a few explosion motions and noises.

He drummed his fingers along the desk, thinking on how best he'd attack the ball. "Although, if I were a fanatic and a ne'er-do-well who wanted to crash your little party, I'd get me, thirty of my friends, a few rockets, and all of us would fire at the building from indiscriminate points, and just drop the tube and run- there'd be no way that the First Order could catch them all, and deal with the aftereffects of more than a dozen rockets impacting a relatively small area. I could follow up that with a full-on assault."

Lancer realized he was red-celling more than he was planning against attacks and threats.

"So. I'd say securing the buildings and areas around where we're holding the ball is as important as anything else, as well as trying to keep the staff in-house as possible, and nothing short of a strip search for most people."

[member="Emilia Ravel"] l [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] l [member="Valessia Creed"] l [member="Kuril Vehn"] l​

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

Dresden went over to the white board at the front of the room and scribbled "Rockets" and "Food Service" on it.

"That's what I'm talking about, folks. The easiest way to plan a defense is to plan an attack."

The former mercenary had done his homework for this one. Both of the grizzled fellow's (he practically screamed former soldier of some sort) ideas had been carried out in the past. Inserting agents into the food service was a depressingly common tactic. They were almost always civilian contractors, and it was depressingly easy to plan weeks or even months in advance for an attack. Establish a good rep, place a competitive bid, and work on defeating security cautions. Three easy steps with a 59% success rate for experienced crews. It wasn't all that survivable for the shooters, but that didn't really matter to their handlers.

The rocket attack plan was a bit more complicated, but also had a high rate of success. Given that most events like these used private venues and relied on the guests to provide their own transportation, grounding all air traffic and placing ADA nets was considered impractical. Likewise with shields. And, as the man said, they could fire off a few rounds from presurveyed points, drop the tubes, and didi mao before any response could form. Fortunately, Dresden had a plan for both eventualities.

He gestured to the IA colonel. She nodded, and spoke. Her voice was quiet, but full of confidence.

"Food service will be provided by the military. We have plenty of executive chefs with good backgrounds, and we're working on wait staff. Our host-" she nodded to Dresden "-suggested we use soldiers or Marines from units with a flair for drill and ceremony. It is ​a military ball, after all, and our nonmilitary guests would likely appreciate the display. Since the average private has more experience making drinks than your average bartender, we don't have to worry about hiring someone for the bar, either.

"As for the rocket situation, we plan to have a Star Destroyer over the city. Officially, it'll be there as part of the festivities, and we actually figured out how to use it to spotlight arriving guests. However, it'll have a full sensor watch, tied into sensors around the venue. At the first sign of hostile fire, we'll be able to pick up the source and provide counterbattery fire in a few seconds. In addition, we'll have a shield generator on hand, warmed up, so it'll be ready to come up at a moment's notice. A concerted attack will be able to breach it, but with the SD providing CAS, it's unlikely that they'll get the chance. If it comes to it, we'll light up probable launch sites, just to prevent them from being used."

As she finished speaking, she stepped back and gestured to Dresden.

"IA will, of course, be responsible for vetting all military personnel involved to make sure they're loyal. That's why the good Colonel is here, as well as to liaison. Now, my biggest concern comes from VBIEDs."

VBIEDs, or Vehicle-Borne Improvised Explosive Devices, were bombs carried by vehicles. They could be extremely dangerous, as even a small speeder could be packed with an unbelievable amount of explosives. A limo could be packed with enough baradium to turn an entire city into a glowing crater.

"If it were me, I'd steal a limo and pack that sucker full of so much boom, you'd be picking bits of pavement out of the moon. Obviously, that's not a good thing. So my plan here is to again rely on the military, as well as FOSB personnel, to chauffer and shuttle guests to the venue. As it turns out, the First Order has a pretty huge executive motor pool. We've got limos aplenty, as well as folks trained to drive them, serve as bodyguards, whatever. As a 'courtesy' to guests, we'll send limos to pick them up from their hotels or villas or wherever they're bedding down. No privately owned vehicles whatsoever within five klicks of the venue. That'll mean closing down traffic, but whatever.

"The exclusion zone will have three sectors. Sector one, the outermost, will consist of a police cordon. It'll comprise the outermost kilometer of the exclusion zone. Sector two will be a military cordon. Any unauthorized traffic entering this zone, or originating from it, will be warned to ground immediately, and fired upon if they don't comply. Warning shots authorized. Sector three, the innermost two kilometers, will be a free fire zone for ADA crews, as well as for the Star Destroyer. No warning, no forced landing, just immediate destruction. We can't afford to kark around with this one."

Once he finished, he turned to [member="Emilia Ravel"], the cryptolinguist or whatever.

"You're our designated SIGINT contact, right?"

SIGINT, or Signals Intelligence, was a somewhat outdated term that originated from the days of radio communications. SIGINT was primarily responsible for intercepting enemy comms traffic, cracking their codes, and reading their mail.

"If you were going to disrupt an event like this, how would you go about collecting intel, and how would you go about thwarting someone trying to do the same?"

[member="Lancer Damar"] [member="Valessia Creed"] [member="Kuril Vehn"]

 

[Zeradias Mant]

As things came to an open, one of the undersecretaries of the Foreign Ministry joined the group via hologram, greeting Kuril and the others in the room. She wasn't just any regular diplomatic official though. Kuril had read her dossier, and she had served personally among the Grand Moff on numerous occasions and was often at the helm for First Order business. Kuril returned her greeting before diverting his attention to Verbrennung who started to kick things off. Many of the security measures being discussed had made sense, and Kuril took his own notes on his datapad to pass on to the Security Minister.

He liked the idea of the star destroyer in the vicinity. It made sense - it was a display of military might and would serve as a focal point for the attendees, but it also held a significant role in the security of the event. Shutting down traffic barring government transportation also made sense, though the radius would have to be toned down. From there though, things began to spiral into an entirely new degree of insanity. As the ranking bureau official present, it was his responsibility to keep things from deviating too far off course. And they were.

"While site security is important, we should be more focused on counterintelligence and counterespionage than terrorist attacks. I'm not downplaying the importance of preparation for all scenarios, but let's keep our focus grounded on what could realistically happen."

There was also mention of strip searching most attendees. That was out of the question.

"We will not be strip searching anybody. Unless our scanners are triggered, we won't be pulling anyone from the event. While safety is paramount, it's our job to ensure the event goes smoothly without actually interfering. Discretion is a priority. Our guests shouldn't even know we're actively operating. This is a ball, a party, not an unending military checkpoint."

"Ms. Creed, could you please enlighten us on your vision for the ball? It would be invaluable in aiding us in further developing strategies for security.", he asked diplomatically.

[member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="Lancer Damar"] | [member="Valessia Creed"] | [member="Emilia Ravel"]​

 

[Lancer Damar]

"I was hired on trying to find a way to kill a lot of you. I just presented two scenarios in which you'd lose a fair amount of people."

Lancer took the time to pop a pill, blinking as he felt the effects take over him. He shook his head and began to focus again.

"I think people under the First Order will understand a bit of intrusion, however. Most of you are more than used to subjugation anyway. We can stick to sensors, but I think it wouldn't hurt to actually physically search some people, especially staff."

Lancer couldn't help but smirk at the First Order agent. He turned and pulled out a paper map, laminated and laid it over the table. It was marked with several X-spots.

"As far as VBIEDs are concerned, that was another threat I was going to bring up. I could pack a truck on wheels- avoiding the speeder business, put a couple hundred pounds of locally sourced HME, put it in lead-lined or metal boxes to avoid sensors and sniffers, and drive that straight through your little party and blow up before the main course had been fed. Or at least, a few dozens soldiers at the least."

His eyes lit up at the mention of a Star Destroyer.

"Out of concern for the destroyer, I would also argue to ground all transports going to and from the Destroyer for the duration of the event."


[member="Kuril Vehn"] l [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] l [member="Emilia Ravel"] l [member="Valessia Creed"]

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Emilia cleared her throat, addressing Station Chief Verbrennung. "As far as SIGINT is concerned, it's a simple job. My crew and I will fly low alt circuits around the Destroyer. The Avenger can pick up any radio signals within a few klicks of the target, even on most private commlinks. If anyone is planning anything we'll know about it."

Emilia turned back to director Vehn, who addressed the group. She sat back, settling in, neatly writing notes on a battered notepad she carried with her everywhere. She agreed with what Vehn said about discretion, Agents typically weren't very perceptive when it came to the do's and don'ts of high society, but Emilia understood the value of staying under the radar. Once Vehn had finished, he fielded a question to the minister, and Emilia sat back, listening.

| [member="Lancer Damar"] | [member="Kuril Vehn"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] |[member="Valessia Creed"]​

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

Dresden sighed and took a long drag off his cigarette before pulling an unobtrusive little tube out of a pocket and touching it to the glowing cherry. He then dropped it on the floor, where, a moment later, it emitted a shrill, piercing whistle that tore through the room.

Now, he wasn't sure if the merc and the director were going to start arguing, but he had a feeling things could go that route. In some meetings, that wouldn't be a problem, but everyone here was a potential killer, and Dresden was a professional paranoiac. Much like the proverbial nexu that the proverbial herders had to deal with, spooks could be right touchy, and it was best to nip problems in the bud before they had a chance to get serious.

"Apologies, folks, but a few points of order. Firstly-" he turned to [member="Kuril Vehn"] "-this is a planning session. We're here to plan for every​ eventuality. Now, you're the ranking officer, and you were invited as a courtesy, but I'm here because this is an area in which I've a great deal of experience. The powers that be decided that my record made me the man for the job. I'm not one for institutional pissing contests. Too much effort. If you want to get on the horn and get yourself in charge, that's up to you and your professional judgment. Until then I'm gonna proceed under the assumption that it's business as usual."

As he spoke, Dresden's speech lapsed into the laconic drawl that marked a man who had spent too many years as a professional soldier. Though he himself was from a planet that spoke relatively uninflected Basic, your average mercenary came from poor, rural areas, and those areas tended to share a common accent. After a decade or so, their speech patterns tended to rub off, and even folks who didn't grow up with the accent found themselves slipping into it, especially under stress. It was safe to say that the former mercenary was getting annoyed, ever so slightly.

"As far as counterespionage goes, we'll get to that, and we'll be as thorough as possible. Believe me when I say I'm wildly aware that about two thirds of the recommendations we come up with will get shot down outright, and the ones that make it through will be pretty heavily watered down. Not our problem. Our goal is to provide the powers that be with as comprehensive a plan as possible and let them make the final decisions."

And now he turned to [member="Lancer Damar"] with a slight scowl.

"You're a guest. Be nice."

The ​or else​ was unspoken, but heavily implied. It wasn't a threat so much as a warning. There were powerful people in attendance, all two of them, and they could make life a living hell if they took a powerful dislike to someone. Dresden had no plans to chastise the merc any further, because he had good ideas, even if they were a bit, well, over the top. But making enemies in the halls of power was never a good idea.

In response to the cryptolinguist, he went over to the white board and scrawled SIGINT, and under it, Avenger. He wasn't sure what the specs of the craft were, but if the SME was content that they could do the job, that was good enough for him. It was bad form to bring in experts and not listen to them.

Finally, he turned to the hologram of [member="Valessia Creed"] and inclined his head slightly.

"Apologies for the interruption, ma'am. If you've any suggestions, they'd be most helpful."

The accent was gone now. As far as he was concerned, the matter between the folks in the room was settled. If not, well, things would get interesting, but hopefully there wouldn't be any issues until after the meeting.

 

[Valessia Brentioch]

Valessia quietly raised a brow, she was so glad that she would now be able to talk among such distinguished gentlemen. "While you were tasked with the job of the ball's security, let's make one thing clear. You can be untasked," she was not above reminding those in the room exactly who was the one who ran the show and ultimately. If the Foreign Minister was unsatisfied she'd ask Mr. Vehn to reassign the task altogether, "now." There came a pregnant pause that lingered around her as she looked to ensure all eyes were on her and when they were. "In the previous two years when I held this function, they went without incident. Mr. Vehn is very much correct in how to approach the matter. Neither the ball nor its host city, New Heliopolis should be interrupted."

"We shall not be patting anyone down, we have the Grand Moff and her family, the King and Queen Commenor, as well as a few of the distinguished nobles from my homeworld of Brentaal IV," she rattled off a few of the big names that were the usual bunch in attendance. "I'll reemphasize that any and all Star Destroyers are to remain in orbit, lest you wish to cause an entire scene." Her idea and vision were simple, keep the function going without incident. Ensure that food and beverages were served and that the music was in good taste. "This ball is very important to everyone within our nation, not only will we be raising money for the wounded veterans and our memorials but this is where we get to let our hair down. Where our society gets to play, anything short of discretion should be reconsidered."

There was no doubt in her mind that there were fanatics, zealots and all sorts who wished to cause the First Order harm. "As we have yet to pick a venue, I would hesitate on getting too carried away. All we have as of now is our host city located in the Halm Sector. From my understanding and conversations with Grand Admiral Yvarro there will be plenty of stations within the planet's system and the surrounding systems to keep the event safe from there. Now on the ground, I recommend posing undercover and a few as actual guards. I generally hire my own security through a private firm on Brentaal IV, additionally, it is not unusual to see the planetary guard around the event as well. We can establish check points leading up to the door, United Speeder Services has been kind enough to allow their speeder scan technology to be used for this purpose."

"Once guests arrive at the carpet they are to be escorted to the doors, paparazzi will no doubt be in force to capture pictures of our esteemed guests as well as journalists from every socialite tabloid as you can possibly imagine," so once more without saying so, she reemphasized the need for discretion. If they could perform security here without incident then she would no doubt allow this fellow to conduct security for the upcoming First Imperial Boloball Cup Tourney (Sponsored by Rojo Ventana Credit Union). "We will also need escorts and guards around our ticket sales and donation booth, last year we raised well over two million credits and with guests such as royalty from Commenor. They'll be prized targets of any would be criminal, they along with other guests will provide their own security as always. Our venues are pretty straightforward, one entrance and one exit for guests, and a few for the servants. All servants are usually from the venue themselves with the exception of our Opera House last year."

[member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="Emilia Ravel"] | [member="Lancer Damar"] | [member="Kuril Vehn"]

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

The IA colonel didn't stiffen. In fact, she did the opposite. Her eyes seemed to lose their focus as her posture relaxed, taking in everything while looking at nothing in particular.

That was bad. Dresden knew what she was thinking, even agreed with parts of it. Everything their holographic VIP had said was, when you got right down to it, a slap in the face for the military. Oh, the brass at the event likely wouldn't agree, but they weren't the ones who mattered, in the end. Ignoring the slights, her job had just got a lot more difficult.

Before she had a chance to react, he tapped her on the arm. The colonel glanced towards him, and the former mercenary shook his head ever so slightly before passing over the remains of his cigarette. The colonel returned the nod imperceptibly, then took a deep drag.

Dresden, meanwhile, began rolling another, his fingers moving with the deft precision of a man defusing a particularly cantankerous bomb.

"I suspected that might be the case," he said smoothly. "You'll have to forgive my paranoia. My previous experience with events like this was with a government that was, for all practical intents and purposes, locked in a war of extermination with one of the nastier groups to rear its head in the last few centuries. That said, I've drawn up plans for a scenario in which discretion is the primary concern. You should find them in your queue here shortly."

As he finished speaking, the lanky man screwed the cigarette into the corner of his mouth, lit it, and then produced a datapad seemingly out of nowhere. He neglected to mention that the reason he already had plans drawn was because, in his estimation, this was a worst case scenario. He was never big on tact, but even he knew better than to point that out here. A few button pushes later and the plan was on every datapad in the room, and also transmitted along the secure link to the Undersecretary.

Rather than outright prevention, this plan relied on detection of and response to any threats that might arise, and consisted of three layers of security.

The first and most vital was in the venue itself. Introducing private security into the venue increased the risk tenfold, as did utilizing private staff, but there were countermeasures that could be taken. Each security team would have an FOSB liaison, a Supervisory Agent or higher, who would help coordinate with the other teams. Arrivals and departures would be handled like clockwork throughout the evening, with a flexible schedule that would ensure that each dignitary would arrive at a precise time in order of precedence. The more important the dignitary, the later the arrival time, and thus the less wait they'd have to deal with. Each dignitary would be allowed a single security specialist of their choosing to accompany them into the main hall, or equivalent, depending on the venue. The rest would be kept in a separate room, provided refreshments and entertainment, and generally kept out of the way. They'd be on hand if something went wrong, but otherwise, out of sight, out of mind.

Meanwhile, the paparazzi, wait staff and food service personnel would also have FOSB agents embedded. It was their job to keep an eye on the help, and to make sure that, if anything did arise, it would get put down hard. FOSB agents would also unobtrusively mingle with the crowd, listening with a professional ear for any shenanigans. It went without saying that the building would be wired thoroughly for video and sound. In the event that something did happen, there would be a Quick Reaction Force on standby in the building. In addition, each security specialist would have a predesignated evacuation. The routes would be secured by the QRF, while the agents on the floor dealt with the event. The security details would be reunited with their charges, and once they left the venue, their FOSB advisors would coordinate to get them to predesignated shelters as quickly and safely as possible.

If all went well, no one would be any wiser. If something did happen, it would be met with not necessarily overwhelming force, but as much as they could bring to bear without their guests being any wiser beforehand.

The next layer of security would be comprised of surveillance, relying heavily on SIGINT and HUMINT in the city. Any sort of coordinated attack would require communication and movement of personnel. It was possible, if one didn't look too hard at the bill, to keep an eye on just about everything that happened in a five kilometer radius. By watching for certain indicators, they could reliably predict and detect terrorist attacks from all but the most dedicated and sophisticated cells. It wasn't a perfect solution, and the cost would be frankly astronomical, but again, the guests would likely never know. As an added bonus, any espionage activity around the venue would be monstrously difficult to pull off undetected. Any signs of spying would likely land the culprits in a cell in some dark site, where they could be ​interrogated​ until the end of time.

The third layer was the last resort. In the event of an attack, there would be a military force on standby ready to respond with appropriate levels of force. Exactly what that force would be would depend on the sort of attack. Since they couldn't use the Star Destroyer for counterbattery, the most likely option was mortars. They could be located throughout the city in places where the guests would never see, would never suspect, and wouldn't recognize even if they did. There were a hundred different ways to disguise mortar crews from prying eyes. Same with the air defense artillery. They wouldn't be seen, but they could react quickly to threats. Not as quickly as a Star Destroyer on station, but needs must. Meanwhile, crack troops would be on hand with an under two minute response time. Discreetly armored civilian landspeeders would carry them to the attack site, where they could crack heads with minimal fuss.

And, of course, there was the shield generator on the venue itself. As the man had said before, it would be kept warmed up, but off. In the event of incoming fire, it could blink on at a moment's notice, and hopefully give everyone inside enough time to get to safety.

"I trust that fits your parameters?"

[member="Valessia Creed"] [member="Emilia Ravel"] [member="Lancer Damar"] [member="Kuril Vehn"]

 

[Zeradias Mant]

Kuril intensified his gaze at the standing man leading the meeting. Though the semantics being thrown around were mildly entertaining, they treaded a fine line with insubordination. Agents might be autonomous in the field, there was still a pecking order to the FOSB. Just as a horse led the carriage, there was still someone at the reigns. In this instance, it was the deputy director. While Kuril humored the station chief's notions of power for the time being, the representative from the Foreign Ministry said her piece, which largely aligned with Kuril's statements. She also highlighted the previous two balls the First Order had hosted, both of which went uninterrupted by threats or the security preventing them.

Though Verbrennung retorted Vehn's input, his tune noticeably changed when Undersecretary Creed echoed his concerns, drastically altering his plans to more closely reflect the requirements outlined by the deputy director and foreign minister. As the station chief outlined the finer points of his plan, he continued to type quietly on his datapad, occasionally glancing upwards to make eye contact. When asked if the plan more closely aligned with their parameters, Kuril typed quietly before skimming his notes.

The first points were definitely a step in the right direction. "I'd like to abstain from utilizing military forces. We have a uniformed division of troopers we can utilize to cut back on outsourcing. Emplacements are largely unnecessary as well, given the naval presence in orbit. I'll approve use of missile launcher and sniper teams, though."

Between the two highly mobile weapon platforms, they'd serve their purpose against smaller craft. Larger ones though would more than likely be stopped by the navy before even entering low orbit.

He looked to Creed for affirmation of his changes and the plans Verbrennung had laid out.

"If Ms. Creed is satisfied, I am."

[member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="Lancer Damar"] | [member="Valessia Creed"] | [member="Emilia Ravel"]​

 

[Lancer Damar]

"This is coming from the professional assassin and killer of important people in me. I don't think I'd target this place. And if I did, it'd be a one-way trip. Nothing short of an orbital bombardment or a gunship full of Jedi is going to be the cause of your party going south. I suppose the biggest threat to you now is the unseen one."

There was a dramatic pause. Lancer held the suspense in the air, holding it over their heads.

"If I were a bad guy who wanted to kill a lot of people though, it'd be pretty hard. The only route I could think of is a CBRN attack, but that's a moot point when there's a karking soldier behind every single way to get in, or approach the building. Although I guess I could still skateboard in a bomb. Or send in bad food and make everyone leave early."

Lancer popped another pill and smiled a lizard-like, malicious smile.

"What about the safety of our guests while staying in the city? Surely they're going to be protected while staying in the city, or traveling to and fro."

[member="Kuril Vehn"] l [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] l [member="Emilia Ravel"] l [member="Valessia Creed"]​

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

With a small flourish of her pen, Emilia finished her notes, carefully dotting i's and crossing t's. If there was anything she had a gift for, it was transcription. On the page was a perfect copy of the conversation, each speaker was numbered, and the words were neatly printed, perfectly legible, and without a single mistake. As she wrote, Emilia frowned, she wasn't used to her superiors arguing, in the Navy, someone would bark orders and it would be followed without question. But here, each one of them was as stubborn as the last. It was hardly efficient, but as each individual at the table picked apart the suggestions of the others, a concrete plan began to form. So Emilia listened as the Minister shared her vision for the ball, and as the Station Chief altered his plan, and the Deputy Director changed it yet again. As the plan began to take shape, Emilia continued to write, trying her best to commit as much of the meeting to memory as she could. When the conversation became heated, with not-so-subtle threats of reassignment and the like, Emilia squirmed in her chair, suddenly her collar was too tight, sweat beaded on her brow, and she knew her cheeks had turned rosy.

Emilia was trying her best to play it cool, to come off as the confident officer who had it together, who never doubted herself and couldn't be spooked. But there were very important, very intimidating people at this table, and her nerves began to get the better of her. As the conversation went on, she continued writing, but her legs began to jerk around, her hand fidgeted, forming fists and tapping. The group was likely too wrapped up in the planning to notice she was acting strange, but she wasn't exactly being nonchalant. In their eyes, she was a nobody, a short, unremarkable cryptolinguistics specialist, hardly something to write home about. These people were mercs, bigshots, bosses. Most of them had the authority to make her dissapear from the galaxy without a trace. She was nothing.

As the conversation went on, Emilia continued to write, she kept both her hands busy. Her right continued the transcript, carefully scribing each letter as it was said. With her left hand, she reached into a bag by her side, pulling out flight charts for the city of New Heliopolis. tracing her hand across the map, she began to follow the shape of the lines, the borders of the airspace, the military bases, the features. Even as she listened to a completely seperate conversation she was comitting to memory the details of the city. Keep yourself busy, she thought to herself, focus on the mission.

| [member="Lancer Damar"] | [member="Kuril Vehn"] |[member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="Valessia Creed"] |​

 

[Valessia Brentioch]

Valessia had muted her end of the holocall, and turned to look at her datapad that sat flat against her desk. A few quick types and a small smile, a venue had been secured she turned her attention once more to the meeting and looked down at her notes. She, for the most part, agreed with the Deputy Director with regards to what she wanted and was pleased to hear the station chief had changed his tune. Still, as she tapped her stylus to her lips felt that there could be changes, room for improvement. Stylus back down to pad, as she scribbled out a few more notes and downloaded the blueprints to the venue. There would be the main ballroom, the vestibule, and the gardens not to mention the river entrance and the speeder entrance, which sat next to the traditional road entrance. The woman's attention refocused back to the holocall, as she unmuted her end of it, "do not enforce the schedule, having alone will tempt the fates of those who wish to steal it and make with our guests."

"Allow our dignitaries to come and go as they please, keep the schedule afloat as a distraction but it means nothing. Secondly, offer security don't force it, most especially with foreign dignitaries in mind. While we would assume it would be hard to pass as a security official, we've seen what the Alliance and their sympathizers can do." There was a lot stealth technology afloat, and she did not want to have a heavy hand on the situation. "New Heliopolis has a fine police force and I'm sure they'll have no issues coordinating with us, now as far as the use of military forces." She pursed her lips a moment, "Halm has plenty of planetary guardsmen, and we can request a force to be placed on standby should we have a need, however; that will be the extent of it. I agree with the use of our agents, embedding them throughout the ball should anything happen."

"Now, this is the venue," The Brentaalan brought up the image for the team to see, "this is the Grand Palace Hotel in New Heliopolis, it has a river entrance, speeder and your traditional roads." She focused in on where exactly within the venue it would be held, "the main ballroom is just above the gardens here, the gardens are attached to a rather extravagant river entrance. A balcony overlooks the gardens and here is the vestibule that leads into the ballroom from the road and speeder entrances, these are the halls that lead to the vestibule from the gardens. So, I will second, Director Vehn on the use of snipers and the like."

[member="Emilia Ravel"] | [member="Lancer Damar"] | [member="Kuril Vehn"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"]​