Rise of the Republic: The Prime Directive

[Aeth Deschart]

REPUBLIC NAVAL HEADQUARTERS, CIOMIA

Ensign Colt Fiodore ran through the halls with a datadisk in his hand. He bumped into people right and left, always uttering an apology as he did so, even when the person outranked him. Technically he was outside their command structure because he was a Republic Naval Intelligence officer. That being said, he didn't have time to stop and deal with them so he didn't much care what it was that they wanted to say when he ran them over. It was just an unfortunate necessity for the situation at hand. It was most urgent.

When he finally came to a stop it was to open a door and step inside of the office, where he was grested by a pink skinned woman at the secretarial position.

"I need to see the Admiral," he said. "It's urgent."

"She isn't to be disturbed under any circumstances," Trova said as she eyed him over. "Her words, not mine."

"Is she with someone?"

"No."

"In a meeting?"

Trova checked her datapad. "No."

"Then she can be disturbed."

Colt slapped the door controls and stepped in before Trova could say anything to try and stop him. The door closed behind him and he looked around the room, which was full of a lot of different types of art between painting and statues and others. None of it seemed out of place based on what he knew of the admiral. Even still, he wasnt surprised when the woman appeared, half dressed with sopping wet hair, from the refresher. She looked at him and then buttoned up her blouse so that Colt couldn't stare at her chest. It wasn't the first time she'd been caught in an awkward position by him.

She didnt say anything as she walked yo her desk and sat down. Perfect poise. Utterly unbothered by his presence.

"Give me the datadisk," she said, holding out her hand.

Colt walked over and handed it to her. She plugged it into her datapad and waited for the report to come up. When it did, her eyes went back and forth like clockwork, and she didn't say a word until she'd read the whole thing over twice. When she had, she leaned back in her seat, put her fingers together, and rested the index digits against her chin. She stared past Colt for a time before her eyes seemed to suddenly focus on him, which caused him to sweat profusely.

"This information is verified."

"Multiple sources have confirmed it."

"I need to see all senior naval members in my office immrdiately, and I want you to share the information with the army as well. We will share with the Senate once we have a formulated plan to give them."

"Yes, ma'am."

Colt went to do as told. While he did, Tylane worked on her hair. She would be presentable when the others came.

 

[Mallory Bash]

She had all but drifted into Wild Space. Too many debts hanging over her, too many bridges burned. She was a victim of her own tangled webs and indulgences, and finally, she ran out of silk to weave a way out. With fuel cells almost empty, the Stellar Kart had languished on the edge of a system she didn't know, while ships from a navy she couldn't identify bore down on her.

That was months ago. Mallory had sought refuge with what she learned was the Republic Remnant, a government biding its time to burst out onto the galaxy's stage once again. A good place for a smuggler to hang up her cargo gloves and make a new start.

With connections in the back alleys and underworlds of many systems, Mal quickly helped develop a network of information sources for the Republic, under the auspices of Naval Intelligence. A number of missions of her own helped secure intel on a myriad of potential enemies and allies, and she earned rank.

---​

Mallory reviewed the data twice, then called in Colt and two analysts to dissect it again. There was urgency in the information, but they had to be sure it was legitimate. Acting on false data was far worse that having no data to act on at all. They confirmed and agreed it was valid. Colt was sent personally to deliver the datadisks to the Admiral, Mal would not risk even an encrypted transmission.

With Ensign Fiodere enroute with his vital missive, Mal moved to a secure console to ping a number of operatives in the field for any more related intel. A Zabrak in a crisp naval uniform appeared at the door to her small office. "Captain Bash." He addressed the officer in a formal staccato.

"Kark it, Yarlon," she chided the junior officer, "loosen up, this isn't the deck of the Reparate Hope." Mal picked up a smoldering stimstick from an ionizing ash tray, taking a last tug before pressing it to the extinguisher.

"Yes ma'am." The Zabrak replied, no less rigid. "Ensign Fiodere has been instructed by Admiral Tylane to share the intel with the Army."

The intel officer nodded as she picked up a datapad from her desk. "Thanks, dismissed." She replied somewhat distracted. Once the Zabrak officer strode away, Mal headed out of her office as well. There was work to do.