Private Rook takes Bishop

[Boram Predor]

// Moff Predor //
// Warlord of Veroleem //
// Nowhere in Space //
// Focus // Farah //

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Participating in stealth operations such as this was hardly a point of enjoyment for the good Moff, the stiffness of the mask and the tug of risk a tad too unnecessary for the Serenno noble. But the prize from his mission today would be well worth any such dangers that he might face to capture it. Perhaps it was jealousy that turned Moff Predor away from the Sith Empire in what felt like so long ago. The title of Grand Moff eluded him, much as it does today, but unlike the New Imperials, there seemed to be little in the way of upwards momentum. Especially with individuals such as Madelyn Lowe and Aerarii Tithe blocking his ascension. And so, when the New Imperial Order rose from the ranks of the military, Boram saw the opportunity it presented for a man such as himself.

Trapped beneath a glass ceiling.

And so, it was in this new Empire that the Serennoan made a name for himself. A Moff so close to Grandness, that he could taste it, and Warlord of some backwater planet that had more value than it would first appear to. Veroleem offered opportunity that most might not appreciate. Not without diving deep into the records of the history of it, hidden value in ancient holocrons and datapads. Something only scholars could achieve.

And that is part of why Boram was out in this little part of nothingness. A scientific Sith Imperial frigate that housed some of the brightest minds of their Empire. A think tank that held the most valuable resources of all the galaxy, resources that weren't appreciated enough in Boram's opinion. So he was here to rectify that mistake.

One particular resource in this ship was of utmost value to the Moff, a prize that he desperately wanted to claim. Ever since his seclusion, certain assets of Emperor Carnifex had their leashes loosened with his disappearance. The most interesting to Boram was one of his chief scientists, Farah . A woman Predor would give anything he had to find in his possession. And that is why he was here. To introduce himself.

Taking care of the guards was little issue, this think tank was nowhere on the maps and technically didn't exist. But if it existed, there was a tongue that could be carved out to speak of it. Fortunately, Boram hardly had to result to this, certain connections making info easier to come across. And so here he was, stepping over a dozen corpses of nothing troopers.

His prize waiting in the main lab as far as he knew. The door locked on one side.

"Hello?" Knuckles rapped on the steel door awaiting a response, four deathguard flanking the good Moff. "I'm afraid the men out here have died, I would prefer to spare your intellect if you would be so kind as to open this door."

 

[Farah]

If there was one thing Farah missed during her residency at Coruscant General, it was the quiet.

Like all civilian hospitals, CoreGen was busy around the clock, buzzing with the exhausted energy of a caffeinated medical staff and lack of sleep. Not only did she feel at home in the operating theater with her craft, but Dr. Navarro enjoyed the steady quiet that came from performing surgery. Sure, there were the exciting parts you only saw on holodramas—monitors blaring as the patient unexpectedly and rapidly bleeding out—but those weren’t as frequent as the media made them seem. Long stretches of silence and the steady backdrop of monitors beeping were her comfort.

That’s why, whatever was going on outside of the laboratory, Farah was not enthused about.

After finishing her training, she’d been allowed to remain as an attending surgeon for a few years before the Sith Empire had called her back into service. It was different, but eventually, she settled in. Aside from a few other doctors and scientists, the acerbic Zeltron didn’t really make many friends. The Sith’s conquests were of no interest to her, but she was contented with the work and relative freedom they had provided her.

Leaning over the operating table, the good doctor was busy at work. An injured stormtrooper had “volunteered” for an experimental surgical procedure that would essentially give him a bionic heart. An organ that was stronger, more durable than the organic thing—something that could push typical humans to withstand more stress and strain. Of course, the thing would be useless without modifications to the circulatory system as a whole. That would take time, and a steady hand.

Gloved hand working to attach the delicate arteries to the metallic implant, Farah’s brow was noticeably crinkled in irritation.

The young man assisting Farah, a tall, thin doctor with tanned skin and dark hair appeared more concerned. His attention was towards the far side of the room where the door to the laboratory was, beyond the small, sterile operating chamber. Every volley of blaster fire, every yell that neared them made Dr. Noor more anxious, and he scratched at his beard from above the mask. “Farah—” Both hands in the patient’s chest cavity, the more senior doctor’s eyes flickered up to him in a sharp gaze. “Dr. Zambrano,” He quickly corrected himself, not bothering to wither under the Zeltron’s glare in the face of his concern. “Something’s wrong. There’s never this much-“

“Go and see to it, then.” Her voice cut as quickly as her scalpel, carrying the implication that if Dr. Noor was going to complain, he was dismissed.

Instead, he balked. “We don’t know what’s going on, we should call security. Or evacuate-“

They both became still as someone knocked at the door of the lab, the sound in and of itself carrying an ominous note. Nobody with the clearance to be here needed to knock—their badge was simply enough to gain entrance. From beneath her mask, Farah frowned. Something was wrong.

She straightened abruptly and waved Dr. Noor towards the patient. “Sew him up.” Removing herself from the sterile chamber, she quickly tore off her mask and shed her blood glove on the ground, heels clicking in agitation as she moved.

Punching in the code for the door, whoever was on the other side would be face with the very palpable anger of a very angry doctor.

“What? What could possibly so important that you felt the need to disturb me during surgery?” She snapped at the man standing there before even getting a good look at Boram Predor . "Somebody important had better be dying, and they'd better not be dead when I get there."