Private The Science of Imaginary Solutions

[The Major]

Or,
The Zoo

Some years ago. . .
♫​

The ion generator, starship engine design inspired, hummed decisively —more mighty than either treacherous gusts or the waves of fresh snow dribbling down at a steady pace. Its deep throb was enough to provide a satisfying prodding of one’s innards, reassurance against the cold made manifest by technology unrivaled across the scope of the galaxy. The pulsing tip of the structure, ensconced by a thin bubble of energy not unlike the waxy luminousness of a portable squad shield, glowed a sharp and crackling blue, such power radiant like a miniature star, wavering upwards in magnetized patterns —Hoth’s very own localized borealis.

A beautiful synthetic source of heat and energy laid before her eyes as she peered upwards to behold such sublime respite, cold and lost as they all were these days, momentarily forgotten by something as wonderful as the deepest, dreamiest throes of a glitterstim high.

“Director! The containment...
level...
Is full!
Where can...
we store this batch?!”

The agent shouted against the howling winds of the planet, struggling to be heard beyond the etheric song of the generator, its cataclysmic vibration chiming in defiance of the freezing flurry, a warped church bell tolling over the damned souls occupying this space.

The Major turned to face her aide, regarding the agent with an ugly, wild grin thankfully hidden beneath the chromium helmet. The frowning faceplate then cocked over like a sudden gash, a birdlike sharpness to its motion, now focusing upon the shipping container currently listing at an angle as the weather pushed up, working out the repulsor lifts to a strain.

::Leave it here.:: The face indicated with a nod that it could lay outside in the elements. Only the agent seemed to internally question anything about this. The crew operating the container had already killed the power to the lift and abandoned the controls, eager to follow the Director away from the cargo area and into the facility proper. No point in wallowing out in the cold when there was no need to do so.

The agent, rewrapping their scarf tightly about the nose and face, felt a strange weight pulling at them. Misgivings. Fatigue. Worry. Over the field beyond the entrance of the secret archives they briefly surveyed Bureau engineering teams working upon the recently felled Ssi-ruu ship. Gear and Imperium tech was being packed into containers along with the surviving, restrained crew of the vessel. Oh, this was grim, and would end poorly for them all. Knowing this to be the absolute truth in their heart, the agent turned from the scene. . .

-2° Standard Galactic | Wind: 10KPH
Morale: Nominal
Rolf Amsel | Isobel Nakano​

. . . while moving to the entrance of the ruined archives, Sybil took care with her footing as she maneuvered through the top layer of snow, feeling her boot come in contact with a rigid metal surface propped up at an awkward angle compared to the rest of the ice. Simply rushing the path was an excellent way to sprain an ankle or pull something over what must have been tones of buried and forgotten gear that no doubt laid haphazardly beneath the snow; that, or inviting disaster in the form of falling down another pit like the last time she had come. Mistakes would not be repeated. Careful progression. Waiting for backup. Reading scans.

Data gained from the scopes were in fact correct: some sort of fire retardant blocked the crooked entryway of the archives after the previous escapade had resulted in the use of high grade explosives. A subsystem of the facility must have activated during the pandemonium to combat the electric fires, but had subsequently failed to terminate once everything went bonkers inside. Now a lattice of frozen extinguishing gel formed a wedge underneath the leaning, creaking tower of the archives. Beams of the structure groaned as an occasional gust passed through the long dead generator, the shell engine reduced to little more than a canted opening that amplified a hollow sound as the cold air continuously flowed through its broken, burnt out husk.

This was somewhat unsettling, as the acoustics trilled in a series of lingering, metallic rings. It was a sound that resonated sickly, the kind that invited the mind to ponder upon haunted spaces and creeping Force entities.

Shepard repressed these annoyances for now and leveled her chemical thrower at the entrance. She forwent a rebreather or trooper helm while the bright flame gushed upon the crevices of the frozen muck, seeming to choose to embrace the reek produced by this moment. The chemicals worked splendidly, melting away the ice and making an opening large enough to allow a team to enter and navigate the mangled remains inside.

Fumes would make entering without specialized rebreathers a hazard for a least a few minutes, so Sybil emptied the rest of her chem tank making sure to clear some of the built up ice above the atrium and to its sides, ensuring that there wouldn’t be a sudden cave in of debris, at least in so much as the entryway was concerned.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

T O W A R D S Z E R O​

Isobel crunched along the snowy surface of Hoth.

She had missed the excursion to Hoth during the First Order's initial operations on the planet, and had not been debriefed except in the most general terms: that the First Order had succeeded in taking possession of the planet.

Much had changed since then. Isobel knew in her heart of hearts that her time with the First Order was coming to a close. Delilah Graham's activities surrounding the capture of Cierrol Harlow was simply too much. Isobel had stood idly by and seen things done on behalf of the First Order before, things that she wished didn't have to happen. Never had she ever experienced the kind of rage and disgust that came with the apparent deal that Graham had cut with Harlow. So while it was time, or perhaps past time, there was still some unfinished business, and some of that had to do with Sybil Shepard.

Isobel wasn't turning her back on her friends. Perhaps Dash and Shepard didn't see her that way, but that was their tough luck. If they needed anything and Isobel could help, there she was. Like today, even though it was cold as all hell and Isobel wanted nothing more than to sit in a hot bath. Yes, she would help Shepard with anything, but she was under no obligation not to complain about it.

"I'm freezing my arse off," Isobel informed Shepard as she approached from behind. "Even with these layers of -- what the hell happened in there?" Isobel asked, all thoughts of complaining aside as she peered into the facility, with its bizarre frozen structures.

The Major | Rolf Amsel

 

[Rolf Amsel]

The same. It felt exactly the same.

Years had passed since Rolf had tread foot on the planet, save for the Order's most recent resurgence. After so much time and distance, Hoth still felt the same as it had all those years ago. A familiar taste on the air? The familiar lighting? The crunch of snow beneath his boots. Hoth by all accounts was fairly boring - a world of ice and slag, snow and creatures that would eat your face if you weren't careful. Wampas were far deadlier than people oft remembered. What was less mundane was their task at hand - and, their reasons for it.

Shepard had been assigned as the Ninth Imperial Battlegroup's Trooper XO, Rolf's direct subordinate. Despite formality however, Rolf had committed that the two would be more akin to co-commanders. The woman's knowledge, forgotten or buried, would come in handy. A more esoteric approach to command - just what the 9th needed in comparison to the bulk of First Order military forces which opted towards a more traditional tune. The Colonel had offered his assistance to the Major in her secretive endeavor. A veteran of war, a leader in battle, Rolf assumed he was there to provide some much needed weight to a fairly lightly comprised party - a trio. "I'll let you in on a secret." his foot plodding down in the woman's tracks ahead of him. "It doesn't get much better underground."

Rolf had taken up the rear guard, the Major leading the way towards wherever it was they were headed. Rolf hadn't been too sure about the whole thing, working with an FOSB asset. Spooks made him nervous, ulterior motives typically abound however Shepard had reassured him there was nothing to worry about. Rolf's eyes darted to the structure, facility in a state of disrepair. Snow had even managed to creep up into what had been the interior. "Doesn't look like battle." he said, noting a distinct lack of carbon scoring. "Although, in this weather who could tell."

The Major | Isobel Nakano​

 

[The Major]

INSIDE THE STRUCTURE
Morale: Nominal
Rolf Amsel | Isobel Nakano
​

“I happened here. . . twice,” Sybil replied to Isobel in a ponderous tone. Briefly, the spook worried if asking for their help was putting these two in unnecessary danger. The mangled jaw of ice that made up the entrance to the atrium looked less than inviting, but with all the carnage that took place within the structure during Shepard’s previous intrusion there should have been tremendously reduced risk. Besides, anything that went wrong here was directly a result of her brash, impatient methods. Lt. Col Amsel would be more than paranoid and professional enough to respond to any remaining threats, and cybersecurity would be something expertly handled by Agent Nakano —though Shepard was not yet aware of how thoroughly the fiasco at Terminus was eating at her friend. Nevertheless a precognitive echo of what broiled within the former Lotus tapped lightly at Sybil’s senses.

Struck at how annoyingly obtuse and mysterious she must have seemed —and not the better for it— she clambered through the opening, pushing past the now covered and ruined atrium before stopping to let the party catch up. Thankfully, it was warmer inside, but only because there wasn’t wind actively hitting their bodies. Third time’s the charm, she quipped internally.

To begin, the now empty chemical thrower was removed and laid down on the charred remains of a once large, stylish desk. Shepard then found a soot covered panel, usually reserved for maintenance, against a nearby wall and wrenched the protective shell off. While preparing some other equipment that would come in useful to her journey, Sybil explained her purpose here a little more.

“A bomb went off on the server level of this facility, but this place is built like a capital ship. A good one. Portable explosives aren’t enough to fell it; and no, I wasn’t the one who used the bomb,” she looked up at her companions with an incredulous expression, apparently just as appalled by the notion of exploring a place sporting a potentially big hole as they might be .”That was done by some First Order asset,” her tone shifting grim now. “These days, you can’t trust the Section with nuance: either they fry it, or give it the white glove treatment. You know why? It’s all emotionally driven in the pursuit of prestige.” Sybil hoped Isobel didn’t reference their conversation on Life Day as a rejoinder. Hypocrisy would be an easy attribute to cosign upon the Foreigner after the kind of confessions spat out like a screed on that day. It wasn’t that long ago, but a lot had happened since then to both of them separately. A lot to age a person.

At the very least, Isobel being present was a good sign.

“Well, that’s not my mandate. We’re dealing with something personal: a part of me. Can’t leave something like that to chance. That’s why what we recover here isn’t going to be reported up the chain: not to Graham, nor the rest of the Section, not the NuBureau, not even the Ministry or Supreme Leader,” if that was even what they called her these days. “I know, this sounds like I’m conspiring to commit treason. No such thing. Just taking back what’s mine.”

It now occurred to her that it may come off like she was telling the pair to just follow her orders, like she was the big cheese in charge. Strangely, any of the charisma in the previous speech started to ebb away. Self abashment?

“You know. If you’re okay with helping, of course. Arresting me is an option.”

 

[Isobel Nakano]

T O W A R D S Z E R O​

"Fabulous," Isobel muttered under her breath in response to Rolf Amsel 's commentary. She followed Shepard inside, listening to her explanation of what had happened. She tried not to take her criticism of the operations personally, and in this case it was easy: Isobel hadn't been there to do what Shepard found objectionable. And she needn't have worried about any Life Day secrets rearing their heads. Isobel was the sole of discretion.

Still when the offer came to arrest Shepard instead, she smirked. "If I thought it would get us off this icy wasteland of a planet any faster, I might take you up on it," said Isobel with a smirk. "I suspect your CO would have something to say about it."

Rolf Amsel -- the man, the myth, the legend -- was still behind her. She wasn't sure how to gauge him. He seemed pleasant and polite, and his presence indicated at least a passing concern for Shepard, which Isobel had to appreciate. They did not share an operational chain of command for this highly unofficial operation, so where Isobel would ahve ordinarily felt great deference, instead she felt curiosity. Curiosity and bitter friggin' cold.

Isobel continued deeper into the facility. "What is it exactly we're looking for in here?" she asked, stamping her feet for warmth as she. Her dark gaze fell on Shepard and she proceeded forward, activating her torch as they got further from the entrance and the light that emanated from it. She cast her beam around the entrance, taking in the damage and despair.

Lovely.

The Major | Rolf Amsel

 

[Kirie]

MISGUIDED

A set of tracks led away from the ship. Deep furrows that trailed away from the dark, squad mass of the vessel, its hulking form standing stark against the blinding snow. A lone figure had struggled through the drifts, wrapped tightly in shaggy snow gear and dark peering across the landscape through thick dark goggles. With a heavy silver walking stick she made her way across the barren waste, the wind whistling eerily past her head. Kirie trudged like this for some time, her furred boots coming sodden and the thick hide of her pants slick with snow and ice. Despite the gear her breath came in ragged frozen gasps, chilling her insides even through her face covering. On occasion she would look down, examining a device held clumsily in numb fingers. Dutifully she'd adjust her course and climb the next rise.

The device flashed with a green light, and Kirie stopped atop an unremarkable, flat patch of snow. She felt around with the walking stick, driving the metal shaft into the loose powder and receiving a dull metal thud in response. This must be the spot then. Shivering she bent down and scraped away the top layer of snow, revealing a warped plasteel skylight, still half-covering what looked like a snow-filled hallway beneath. Not wasting time, Kirie gripped the twisted cover and pulled, grunting with the effort as she tried to pull it free. It wouldn't budge, so she spent the next several minutes painstakingly melting away the ice on the edges of the skylight, until finally it opened with a metallic screech.

The interior was dim. Racks of some sort leant bizarrely against a curving mass of ice that seemed to fill at least half the hallway it
wasn't a promising entrance to the ruins of the facility proper, but it was worth trying at least. Kirie checked her bags were still secure, and squeezed through the narrow gap, lowering herself into the gloom, dropping the last distance to the icy surface with a jarring thud and immediately losing her balance, sliding down the ice and colliding with the opposite wall. Gritting her teeth, Kirie rose and looked around. The ice, it seemed, wasn't actually ice at all but rather frozen fire retardant foam, which, at some point had been deployed and chilled, wholly burying one side of the hall and covering the rest of the corridor in a frozen floor perhaps a metre tall. Strange noises came from the sealed side. Dull whooshing and the sound of trickling water seemed to emanate from the other side, as if some machine were rumbling to life.

She watched the dark frozen mound, frowning, and then stepped back as she saw a flicker of light from the other side. She squinted, confused, but she had not imagined it. Kirie peered into the ice, realising with dawning dread that tongues of flame were licking at the ice wall from the other side. She stepped back, a hand going to a small blaster on her hip, and retreated further back, into the dim of the hall to watch the flames. Were they melting the ice, thinning it? They must be, and the flickering lights seemed to be growing brighter by the second. That hardly seemed like a good sign.

The Major | Rolf Amsel | Isobel Nakano

 

[Rolf Amsel]

That caused him to raise an eyebrow, his usually guarded expression slipping for a moment. His typical combat gear had been stripped down for this mission, heavy combat an unlikely scenario given their remote destination. While he still wore some pieces of armor, many had been removed, replaced by thermals. Combat gear had been exchanged for traveling and climbing gear. His helmet had been one casualty to that list - instead he'd opted for a warm and thick cap and a set of yellow tinted goggles. Now inside the carcass of what had presumably been First Order holdings, Rolf reached up and pulled the goggles from his face. "Interesting." he mused.

A bomb. Treason. The woman spoke of things deeper than even Rolf was aware - thought it was clear to the man that better times had certainly passed within the Order. It felt like they were still trying to find their legs. The 9th had it's own struggles, isolated from the rest of the military forces both by design and happenstance. Sometimes personal issues got lost in the mess but in the current galactic state they seemed more important than ever. What was the machine without its cogs? The machine itself didn't care so long as it kept moving. Commanders however, didn't have that luxury. Well, good commanders anyway. A modicum of banter passed between the the two ladies ahead, Rolf had been more attentive to the structural integrity of the floor beneath their feet. Until he heard himself mentioned. "You could try it." he stated flatly, a crack of a smile breaking the facade. "Of course we wouldn't get to the bottom of what it is the good Major is after specifically."

Something interrupted the man's observations, a subtle itch at the corners of his consciousness. It was a tingle he'd learned to listen to. Though, what exactly it was warning of was unclear. Not worth bothering his charges with, he'd keep it to himself for now.

The Major | Isobel Nakano | Kirie​

 

[The Major]

INSIDE THE STRUCTURE
Morale: Nominal
Rolf Amsel | Isobel Nakano | Kirie
​

A little cheeky. Good. Nakano and Amsel were in good enough humor to not just blast the woman leading them both into a proverbial maw; Sybil might welcome such a quick end simply to get a respite from being trapped inside herself. Granted, she had come close to finiality before, and it didn’t seem to complete the waking nightmare that was her mishmosh existence.

So maybe that was no escape either.

The winds of Hoth were cold, and even shielded from the brunt of it in here, with clouds of their breath rolling away at every word, but this little light bulb of wretched thought chilled her deeply.

Stars, if she could just be normal and shut all these roiling, imagined woes up for even a few minutes. ​

“Well, we are looking for my head, more or less,” answered Sybil unironically. The issue is that even when she was speaking the exact truth most of her intent came across as muddled or obscure. Missing pieces of her being were mostly at fault for this broken mirror approach to logic and exposition. “Specifically, a datadrive housed within a helmet. Regardless of the state of this place, the drive will have survived.” The Lt. Col. was right to gaze downwards upon the floor. Not more than a month ago had parts of the structure collapsed, conveniently a part of the ground level, but Shepard was confident that the… groundskeeper construct... guarding the facility had riddled its charge with traps. Considering that most of those traps were already sprung by the previous intrusion, this should be a walk in the frozen park.

Jacking in a wire from Sybil’s datapad into the exposed maintenance panel produced a whole lot of nothing. No electricity was running through this conduit, and so there was no access to the structure. At best, power was cut to the upper levels due to the recent explosion; at worst, even the backup generators were down, meaning that the shadows they currently occupied would be nothing to the complete blackness that awaited beneath their boots. Cursing internally, Shepard prepped a few portable flashlights. While stowing her tech back to their proper compartments, she cheered herself on by asserting that there should be nothing lurking inside in the dark. Nevertheless, a wrist scanner was activated and set to its widest range setting.

No surprises. If anything moved, they would know.

“Ready?”

 

[Rolf Amsel]

"Does the FOSB make a habit of leaving encrypted data stashes so unsecure?" Rolf quipped, eyes darting towards Isobel. There wasn't any animosity towards the woman specifically but something about the agency had always rubbed him wrong. Lack of discipline perhaps? As of late it seemed like the Bureau had usurped far more power than it could reasonably control - it was a liability. The galaxy was operated by politicians, enforced by military forces. To say there was no value to intelligence was a falsehood but to give such latitude to a force not nearly as accountable... it was dangerous. That however, was far above Rolf's pay grade and not a discussion to be had while mucking about in this precarious ruin.

Adjusting the pack upon his shoulders, Rolf checked his weapon once more as a pang of unease washed over him. Outside the facility at least they had the sound of the wind in their ears, the soft crunch of snow beneath their feet, the cracking of the ice shelves. Since they'd been inside the sounds had grown more unnatural. Strange echoes, hollow footsteps, and perhaps the worst of them all - the eerie silence. A part of him was waiting for the whole roof to cave in on them, waiting for the planet to swallow them and what remained of the facility up in one giant gulp.

Reaching up to his shoulder Rolf turned on the small light clipped there, also activating the torch on his weapon. "Ready when you are." he added.

The Major | Isobel Nakano | Kirie ​

 

[Isobel Nakano]

T O W A R D S Z E R O​

Isobel's gaze cut towards Amsel, her eyebrow lifting. She recognized the rebuke in his tone, but it didn't lay at her feet, so she did not feel beholden to take responsibility for it. "I could ask the same thing about the armed forces," she replied pleasantly, her tone much warmer than the glacial air in which the words froze. "I suppose by now you've heard about the derelict Star Destroyer we found just... lying around in the Red Nebula." She proceeded through the facility after Shepard, her footfalls slightly less silent and delicate given her bundled boots, but she still did her best to keep things semi-stealthy.

"Anyway," she went on. "I expect we've all had the stuffing knocked out of us one way or another since the scales came again."

She took a flashlight and flicked it on, descending into the darkness after Shepard. "This place is spooky," she declared, somewhat irritably. She'd had her fill of spooky places, seen the obscene experiments in bizarre labs, the aftermath of them in the blood-soaked corridors of a Resurgent-class Star Destroyer. It seemed unlikely that this place would have the same result. This was a First Order facility, true and proper. Maybe blown to hell and back, but still.

"What did you do to this place when you were here last?" she muttered to Shepard. "It looks like it survived an orbital bombardment or something. A bomb in the place."

The Major | Rolf Amsel

 

[Kirie]

The light faded and flickered away, and Kirie stayed still. She thought she heard dull sounds from the other side of the door. Was it muted voices? Maybe. There seemed to be no power to the facility, at least not on this floor. That could mean that whatever was on the other side of that door was alive and moving. Kirie shuddered slightly at the thought. The sounds faded a little and she got to her feet slowly, shuffling down the curving mass of ice and looking around. A side passage hung open and half buried. She started towards it.

Her booted footsteps echoed uncomfortably through the adjoining hall. She tried to keep quiet by stepping slowly and carefully, but every shuffle and scrape of her boots caused sound that seemed cacophonous in the silent stillness of the complex. She tried to relax a little and just focus on navigating. The fire on the other side of the door warranted concern, sure, but it didn't mean much on its own. The facility was long abandoned and deserted. She'd be able to get to the lower floors in peace. No need to jump at shadows, she just had to be wary.

That was until she heard another sound, the echo, clear and distinct, of voices from some adjoining corridor. She stood still, newly-cybernetic ears pricked. The voices seemed to be growing louder, and though they were low they were clear amidst the relative silence of the facility. The beam of a flashlight swept down the corridor and she stepped back into the shadow of the hall.

There were other people here.

The Major | Rolf Amsel | Isobel Nakano

 

[The Major]

INSIDE THE STRUCTURE
Morale: Nominal
Rolf Amsel | Isobel Nakano | Kirie
​

Responding to Isobel, an unsteady explanation was offered, which rambled as the auburn headed operator had to consciously make an effort to remember, “Got ambushed by a freak droid and was knocked out during the fight. Turns out Graham was up to her kriffity kriff side op games and other teams were nearby to help. Must’ve been some droid —to need bombs to cover an exfil. Guess I owe Graham a cake. Now that I think about it, Dash was there. But I haven’t seen him since. Wonder if he~”

While jabbering, Sybil cranked a manual release illuminated solely by the guiding caress of their gentle lights, producing a grinding screech as ill kept metals revolted at the icy pressure. Servos and gears failed mid scream as the double vault door leading away from the lobby to the remaining, unexploded hall crunched to a halt. Shepard, only a moment away from chiding Agent Nakano for admitting the entryway was, in fact, spooky, shut her bloody mouth before she could start it up. If anyone’s pulse was bouncing like a drum beat after that ear damaging peal it was Sybil’s, who was already mentally crashing headlong into a realization —that coming here, again, after what had happened, again, was solidifying this errand as assured self destruction. Even so there was an internal defensive mechanism which was secure in knowing that this endeavor was a tad dragged out and overwrought in terms of effort. A blaster to the head would cure all this uncertainty if it really was that straightforward. So her purpose had to be more nuanced than simply ending things with a few witnesses. Her mind bartered with the rationale in this manner.

She either hoped it would go unnoticed, or couldn’t control that she had to shake her left hand as though there were invisible flecks of water to be flung off —such was her level of apprehension.

The repeating motion helped those eyes spy that the wrist tracker was showing motion up ahead. There was something present.

“Movement ahead,” Sybil strained in a creaking whisper, a momentary spike in fear giving a single cycle of pause before she drew a blaster. Some pointman.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

T O W A R D S . Z E R O​

The young half-Atrisian woman glanced over at her colleague and then across to Rolf Amsel .

Isobel wasn't sure she would be particularly interested in giving Delilah Graham a cake.

Maybe yellowcake. Yeah, a nice uranium-laced explosive device, that would do nicely for Graham. But she didn't say anything. Graham was still Shepard's boss and, ostensibly, Isobel's, so it wouldn't do to talk explicitly about murdering her. It probably wasn't even a great idea to talk implicitly about murdering her.

Isobel crept deeper into the facility, holding up when Shepard identified movement ahead. She raised her blaster and shone a light along the corridor. Before she raised her voice to shout, she thought twice. "How do you want to handle this?" she asked The Major in a low whisper, not wishing to blow their cover. "Who else has access to this facility?"

The Major | Rolf Amsel | Kirie

 

[Rolf Amsel]

"Movement ahead."
​

The veteran stormtrooper's eyes darted forward, barrel of his weapon following. He slowed his pace, lightly stepping towards the edge of the corridor. Keeping one hand on the weapon he used the other to call up a holo-readout on the micro-HUD in his goggles. It was hard to make heads or tails of what he was seeing with his eyes versus via the HUD but eventually he was able to find their ingress point. Tracing their route quickly he found where they should have been. Ahead, a plethora of corridors and antechambers crowded the readout. "Blast." Rolf muttered.

"Who else has access to this facility?" Rolf caught the tail end of Isobel's question. He waited a moment, looking back over his shoulder for a second before tapping his foot. "Well I imagine just about anyone these days." he quipped. It came out harsher than intended, a conciliatory smile cracking across his features in hopes it wouldn't be taken that way. "Your call." he reiterated to the Major. He was beginning to wish he'd packed his full combat gear, the HUD was certainly more utility. Thermal. Bio Scanner. Tactical Overlay. These goggles he'd opted for were far more minimalist. The micro-HUD was the only feature and even that was grainy. "Hey Bureau." he said, looking at Isobel. "You have any cool gadgets that might help us out here?" He grinned. The FOSB were somewhat legendary given their propensity for gadgetry. Gearheads. Always a different tool, a gadget, some obscure technology on hand. Perhaps they could get to the bottom of whatever uneasy itch was skirting the edges of his mind.

The Major | Isobel Nakano​

 

[Kirie]

Kirie stopped and sucked in a few shallow breaths. The sounds had faded, and the facility creaked eerily. A light breeze stirred the air in the corridor. She got the sinking feeling that the quiet meant she had been detected.

That was a problem. Hoth had recently been reincorporated into the resurgent First Order, and Kirie didn't think they'd appreciate her scavenging in an abandoned First Order facility. Still, it was possible they could be avoided, and if it was just a security team there probably wasn't too much risk so long as she put some distance between them. The archives were plenty big enough to hide her.

Besides, what she was after was too important to let some company scare her away.

Despite her self-assurances, Kirie's throat was tight, and she stood very still as the sound of footsteps returned and grew louder. She cursed herself, as she was suddenly stuck, pinned between the closed door behind and the exposed corridor in front.

Stuck, and without a plan. It would probably make sense to open the door behind her and run, but she was rooted in place. The thought of confrontation, hypothetical only moments ago, was frighteningly real. She pictured herself cornered and gunned down in the frozen ruin and winced.

She cowered in the shadow of the doorway, one hand gripping the hilt of her saber tightly. A beam of torchlight flashed down the corridor, illuminating its depths as it gradually sloped further underground.

The Major Rolf Amsel Isobel Nakano

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Isobel glanced at Amsel, eyebrows furrowing a little. "Unfortunately, circumstances have transpired and I am not really on the list for walk-in privileges for the Bureau's armory and quartermaster," she informed the Colonel in a hushed whisper, shrugging her shoulders delicately as if to indicate indifference, tinged with a bit of regret. "So what you see is what you get I'm afraid."

She swept her light over the corridor, illuminating a door, then another. She paused, raising an eyebrow. "Do you think we should be checking these rooms?" she asked the others softly. On the one hand, it was possible to over-investigate. The place was a deathtrap and there was a good chance that this place could come down on them if they bumped the wrong structural element. On the other hand, it felt unwise to leave unexplored space behind them as they moved down in the bowels of the facility. If there was anyone lurking, they could block off the team's access to the surface, either by ambush or physical barricades.

Isobel wondered what it was like to freeze to death.

Six of one, half a dozen of the other. Piss it, she thought grimly. That just translated to damned if you did and damned if you didn't.

"Your call," she said to Shepard.

The Major | Rolf Amsel | Kirie​