Unfortunate Circumstance

[Robogeber]

LOCATION: SIXTH PLANET OF THE HOTH SYSTEM
TIME: 16:33 LOCAL
CODE CLEARANCE: BLUE

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THEME​

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Clustered around the sixth planet of the Hoth System, Battlegroup Imperator scoured the system, patrolling the planet and most importantly, the lair of the Imperator. The entirety of the fleet centred around the dagger-like FIV Pellaeon. Its gargantuan, orange engines illuminating the vessels and corvettes which lay in its wake in hues of red. The fleet had been set to patrol the newly liberated territories of the Galactic Alliance, when news of a certain individuals escape from FOSB custody had reached him.

A former GADF weapons engineer, one of the architects of the Kyb-X shield program. The engineer, codenamed Posiedon had escaped from the FOSB during a transfer from Rausgeber's lair on Hoth, to the newly created 'Forge' industrial zone on Mustafar. The Grand Admiral was not amused to say the least. The disgust, and anger he felt, was so visceral. So much so, he had dismissed his personal praetorian of FOSB Shadowtroopers in a furious rage.

Now aboard the Pellaeon's command deck, Rausgeber faced the viewport, his reflection giving a dim blue glow, where his face reflected unto glass. Stood, to attention, he now waited. The FOSB would need to pay for this failure. Although he would usually sit subservient to the agency, the rancour which now welled within the military as well as Central Command was unstoppable. The schism between the two all too apparent now. And as of such, a senior delegation of the FOSB's brass, would be dispatched to face the fury of the man in charge of naval weapons research.

Carlyle Rausgeber.

And he could hear them now. A collection of boots clattering in lockstep on durasteel panelling. The Grand Admiral straightened his posture. He noted the muted hushes of voices in the crew pits as the newcomers came. A familiar voice, that of the Pellaeon's nominal chief officer, Captain Evaline Brosse cut through the silence, "Grand Admiral, the delegation, has arrived." Brosse bowed her head slightly.

"Thank you Captain." The cold, artificial voice of Rausgeber replied. It seemed to inflict the air with a coldness at each tonal inclination. "You may return to your post." Brosse saluted briefly, before turning, and leaving the assembled agents. Carlyle knew who they were. What they had come for, but he would not address the lessers. Nay. He would go for the head.

"Most unfortunate about the security breach within your agency Director Shepard." Rausgeber pointedly sneered. Each word had a jab at the FOSB's chair. "After so many set backs, and delays, and now this." He turned his head slightly. His face showing no emotion, but his voice smouldering with contempt. "It seems you have lost me and our Empire, a rather talkative scientist." he paused, and turned his head back, watching them through his reflection.

"Why."

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Location: Ordaj Besh, orbit of the 5th planet of the Hoth System
Gear: Armour of Ren, Lightsaber, Over-the-Ears Music Player, Wrist Comlink
Code Clearance: [ CLASSIFIED ]

They were known as the Blazing Chain.

At best, they were a mafioso assortment of smugglers, thieves, and con-men. At worst, they were a murderous gang of space pirates preying on the weak and vulnerable. In either case, their organized crime rarely rose to the spectre of activity that would merit attention from the First Order Security Bureau.

Since time immemorial, the Blazing Chain had focused recruitment on Force Sensitives, offering a twisted version of family for the disillusioned souls that washed out of Jedi Training. The disenfranchised from among the Jedi Service Corps.

Or the second-rate apprentices that managed to stay alive even after being cast aside by the Sith Lords they had once served.

The Blazing Chain was even known to recruit non-Force Sensitives and send them to one of the Jedi Orders that employed Antarian Rangers in order to receive weapons training and other specialized skills that would be useful to the gang's criminal activities, so that when the gang members inevitably washed out or went AWOL the Blazing Chain received a capable and deadly addition to its crew.

Their mistake had been to recruit a traitor from the ranks of the Knights of Ren.

The wash of blood red light illuminated the youngling's path, as the glow of the crimson lightsaber cast a garish pallor over the bodies that littered the lattice of catwalks and scaffolding that comprised the interior of the structure. The pirate base had been cobbled together using a myriad of freighters to create a strange monstrosity of metal.

Shutting down the lightsaber, the raven-haired boy returned the weapon to his belt as he approached the narrow viewport that was angled above his head.

Stepping on the body of a fallen Rodian, the Atrisian youngling stood on his tip-toes as he peered out into the Hoth System.

There was a large assortment of First Order ships that had appeared in the system since the impromptu raid on the pirate base had begun.

This was the Hoth System.

What the Hutt would be going on here that there was a literal feth-ton of star destroyers littered about?

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

| Location: FIV Pellaeon medical deck |​

It had become too easy for Doctor Terrani to adopt her Imperator's moods, even by catching on thanks to rumors of them. In particular, the bad ones. It was during times like these that the good-natured officer actually lived up to her rarely-used nickname of Doctor Tyranny. She was on the medical equivalent to a warpath. On top of the escape, being away from her preferred base of operations on Malice didn't do her mood any favors.

Likewise to [member="Robogeber"], she was not pleased with the loss of Poseidon and had half a mind to compel half of the ship with various truth serums. She knew that was an illogical idea though; the plan was sound but she had yet a target in her sights. As such, she would either have to await orders or investigate on her own. She was not very keen on the latter, and not quite sure where to start, but she would figure it out if she had to.

 

[The Major]

The FIV Pellaeon, Near the sixth planet of the Hoth System
16:40 Local, Undisclosed date, 853 ABY
Morale: High
Meeting With: [member="Robogeber"]

She came in with a wide smile, bringing with her a pair of her most valued shadowtroopers to serve as her personal security. That grin, splitting so unpleasantly across her pale and freckle spangled face, gave the intense implication of some sort of animalistic violence just barely pasted over a thin veneer of restraint.

So when Grand Admiral Rausgeber began his belittling tirade the woman so affectionately referred to by her inner circle of staff as “The Major” she could at least appreciate his own restraint in not blaring his half formulated assumptions on a delicate situation across the galactic network. In fact, she almost couldn’t blame his reaction. Once upon a time, the man bearing the name of Rausgeber was known as a brilliant, but vile and contemptible man emotionally. Death had most certainly improved his sensibilities. Statistically speaking, his operations were also far more effective and far less costly than more hormonal but handsome face of the First Order fleet. It was funny how little thoughts marred the human mind. Even now, the Major could remember meeting the naval tactician on Bespin for her first orders aboard his vessel as an agent attache. He was prepossessing and attractive -or so she felt at the time. Then he opened his mouth and showed that temper and that illusion was, needlesstosay, shattered tenfold.

Sometimes she still felt a little twinge of warmth on her cheeks when thinking about him and that phase of her life. But, as usual, even today, he would ruin any such sentiments of kindness with his arrogance. Thus his hand was played, and she keenly perceived his angle in trying to assert dominance against the Bureau. However, the Grand Admiral underestimated the good Major. She wouldn’t be bullied at this point -oh no. She was far beyond the grasp of any of the inept tools in high command. Maybe a year ago they could still have her fall in line. But now?

Now they were dancing under the various criss crossing strings which she had so carefully built.

“Why? It’s really so simple, Grand Admiral. You tend to somehow, inexplicably, draw upon the most morally ambiguous in your pursuit of technological terror, Sir. Time and time again, you allow moles and traitors to come into your midst -and to disastrous effects, Sir. I don’t need to remind you what nearly took your life roughly a year ago now, Sir.” The Fallanassi cracked her knuckles and leaned her elbows upon a table, interlacing her fingers while leaning forward.

“This scientist is yet another shortcut that puts the First Order at risk. Even now he’s being tracked. Unfortunately it was necessary to maintain this operation’s secrecy, even to the brass, as they are prone to overreacting when a measured response is needed to cull the benefactor on the enemy’s side; seeing as our cards are laid out I can get you a copy of the classified documents post haste. Once he delivers to his contact, he’ll be captured, scanned, and destroyed -Sir.” A fiery gleam seemed to shine just a brighter shade of orange in her otherwise blue eyes. Perhaps, she would be handling some aspect of the scanning process personally; of course, such could might only be rumor.

“But by all means, Grand Admiral, continue to report the incident as another blunder by my Bureau. We don’t deal in such trite things as reputation. Sir, Rest assured that Supreme Leader is informed of each and every shortcut High Command takes, especially after the trespass at Skor. I agree it is important to have convictions during setbacks…”

She tilted her head at angle at her next utterance, a new kind of chill echoing the sentiment being portrayed here.​

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“But! Be careful not to choke on your own convictions. . .”​

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“. . . Sir. . .”​

 

[Luther Lewis]

FIV Pellaeon.
Unknown Room, Lower Levels.
12:57 Local, 853 ABY.

Luther pulled his head up and spat out a mouthful of blood. “You call that a punch?” Luther was about to follow up with a crude comment about his mother but was rudely interrupted by a solid kick between the legs. He groaned and slumped to the floor.

His torturer, a man named Cutter, stepped back to admire his work. “You’re a tough SOB Luther” His smile was sinister. “I know these physical attacks aren’t going to do much”. Cutter leaned in close and held up a syringe. “But fortunately, you’ve given me the perfect tool…” He dropped the syringe and crushed it underfoot.

The sharp chemical smell that reached his nose confirmed that it was indeed Luther’s medicine that was destroyed. Cutter’s grin widened as he saw the blood drain from Luther’s face. “Now, let’s talk again about a certain POI codenamed ‘Poseidon’ ”.

16:00 Local

Cutter was the same rank as Luther, only he had specialised in Interrogation rather than Intelligence. The man was a sadist, always one citation away from being court martialled, but he was effective. “Andddddddd… Sixteen hundred!” Cutter exclaimed. “Oh Luther, you don’t look so good…” Luther could barely hear the man. His muscles burned and convulsed under his skin, feeling like the maniac had set a fire under his skin.

Three hours had passed since Luther was required to take his medicine. Never had he gone so long without the treatment. Even deep undercover, Luther had relied on slow-release patches. The pain was unbearable, and Luther had spilled everything. Deep secrets, dark fantasies and personal weaknesses; nothing was held back. Cutter, true to his name, excised every secret from Luther.

Luther looked up at his colleague. Never, before had he felt such a loathing, not even for the Galactic Alliance, who he held responsible for his Father’s death. Cutter’s mocking stare vanished as the nearby door opened.

Luther direct superior, Station Chief Lentz, entered flanked with two agents. “What results, Cutter?” The Interrogation Officer scowled. “He maintains his innocence” Cutter said. “He claims the escape was due to an oversight”. Lentz nodded, thinking. “Very well, release him”. Cutter gaped as the two agents moved forward and removed Luther’s cuffs.

“We’ve looked into the incident” Lentz continued. “Officer Ando’s role in the escape was purely circumstantial. He is no traitor”. Luther would have liked to have given Cutter a rude gesture, but a wave of pain only elicited a groan. Lentz examined Luther like one might study an ant with its legs torn off. “Send Luther to [member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"], for administration of his meds” Lentz said to the agents. “Then have him report to me”.

| [member="Robogeber"] | [member="The Major"] |​

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Location: FIV Pellaeon, Hangar Bay
Gear: Armour of Ren, Lightsaber, Over-the-Ears Music Player, Wrist Comlink

The deck officer stood at forward part of debarkation control.

The enclosed room was elevated so that it looked out over the ventral hangar bay, coordinating with aerospace traffic control to manage the hangar operations in tandem with the launch and recovery of spacecraft.

The sound of boots approaching prompted the man to glance up. One of the traffic controllers was moving toward him, pausing a respectful distance away in order to give his respects and report, "Sir, there is a TIE fighter requesting landing clearance."

The deck officer was confused by the request. He wasn't tracking any scheduled arrivals for this time. "One of ours?" the man asked, even as he looked down at the schedule in his hands.

"No, sir. According to our records, it's on detached duty to Skye."

Skye? "The Varada Sector?" the deck officer uttered, now very thoroughly confused. This was a TIE fighter? As in, no hyperdrive? "How did it end up here?"

The flight controller gave slight tilt of his his head, noting merely, "It appears to be an... unusual configuration, sir."

"Unusual," the deck officer echoed. Why didn't he like that word? He knew why. It was bad enough they had First Order Security Bureau on board the ship. What half-arsed, secret squib chit had the Admiral gotten them involved with this time?

Clearing his throat, the deck officer merely asked, "Do they have code clearance?"

If it was some half-arsed, secret squib chit... then keeping whoever was in that TIE fighter waiting might not be advantageous for his career. Or continued living.

"It's an older code, sir," the flight controller answered, before adding, "But it checks out."

"Proceed," the deck officer said curtly, dismissing the flight controller. Turning back toward the windows looking out over the hangar bay, the man waited for this unusual TIE fighter to appear.

Across the hangar bay, a series of audible klaxons echoed overhead in warning to the approach of a spacecraft through the magnetic shield that separated the pressurized atmosphere of the bay with the vast emptiness of space. A moment later, emerging upward through the massive gap carved out in the floor, the angular fins of a TIE began to emerge.

Like the head of a predator rising from the deep and the dark, the elongated form the TIE Conqueror emerged from out of the frozen heart of space. The red panels on the port side of the cockpit stood out in contrast to the standard TIEs, passing row after row of the stock fighters as the TIE Conqueror drifted forward.

The ground crew emerged, guiding the spacecraft into an open berth along the starboard side of the hangar bay. As the TIE came to a rest, a fuel team began moving up to the strange vehicle as the cockpit opened.

Atrisian synth-pop trickled out into the hangar, echoing as it blared from the interior. A small pair of hands grabbed the edges of the hatch, before a diminutive pilot flipped from out of the TIE to land on the deck.

For their part, the ground crew seemed rather shocked when the pilot turned out to be a youngling.

Maybe it was the Rodian blood splatter? Well, there was some Rodian green. Some red, of course. And purple. Who even had purple blood? But it was on there.

But, to priorities!

"Is there a cafeteria?"

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

| Location: FIV Pellaeon medical deck |

But she wasn't going to have the time to investigate it seemed. A dozen shipsmen and women and stormtroopers had suddenly come down with an unknown strain of flu. Due to the strength of the ship's biochemical shut down mechanisms, it was very unlikely that the pathogen had migrated aboard on an unsuspecting host. Rather, Doctor Madine, Aes'ona's infectious disease and preventative medicine expert, hypothesized a murine origin caused by a semi-aggressive virus.

Simply put, they might have a rodent problem. Of course, Terrani was going to wait until Madine could produce proof to bring this concern to light, but chances were she'd be ordering some tooka-cats for the vessel in the near future.

When her headset comm rang, Aes'ona gave the patient that she was tending to an empathetic smile before moving away and motioning over a nurse. "Doctor Terrani," she announced.

A rough voice came back over the line. The speaker seemed annoyed. "We've got a rat for ya." Whoever this officer was, he had not been convinced by Lentz's judgment of [member="Luther Ando"].

Considering the medical circumstances, Aes'ona assumed initially that Madine had gotten some unfortunate trooper to catch an actual rat for her to dissect. It was only when he added, "He'll fit right in with you," that she understood.

A human. Likely not infected because the caller wasn't one of her subordinates.

"Get him to Bay 18C," she ordered, ignoring that last comment. She hurried into the locker room and took a quick but effective decontamination sonic shower before stepping out onto the medical deck just in time to see a bloodied man stumble into the bay that she had specified. Likewise, she jogged down the hall to join him, tying her uniform jacket around her waist.

"Agent?!" she exclaimed, recognizing him as she approached, before moving to support Luther with a hand over his back. Once inside, Doctor Terrani struggled to help him up onto the room's only operating table. Once she had, she began searching the counters and cabinets for a pair of mircosensory gloves, throwing the room into even more disarray than it had been in already. With every second that passed, Aes'ona's hands began to tremble more, and, even when she had found what she needed, she had trouble getting them on. Somehow, though, she managed.

She would track down whoever had left it like this later. A talk was in order.

At least the medisensor was easy to find. A quick scan and then she knew what she was after. "You'll be okay," she affirmed before stepping back to comm Madine, who was nearest the Pellaeon's medical repository. "Post-aug meds, stat!"

The wait was a long one but gave Aes'ona time to treat Luther's wounds. When she had done all she could with bacta spray and light painkillers--meant for the beating, not the withdrawal--the doctor began getting the bay back into workable order. Rather, up to her standards, apparently.

A messenger from Madine finally came, a mousy ensign scared half to death, and soon after relief would come for the agent.

"What in the name of the Supreme Leader happened?" Aes'ona would ask after Luther began to recover.

 

[Robogeber]

[member="The Major"] | [member="Tao Liu Xian"] | [member="Dr. Aes'ona Terrani"] | [member="Luther Ando"]
FIV Pellaeon | Command Deck
Theme

The droid watched mutely as the Director questioned him and his, methods. She was trying to turn the tables on him. Save face in front of the faceless spooks who now stood behind her with their blank, unforgiving stares. When Shepard had completed giving her frank assessment, Carlyle's remained a pallid calm. But internally, he was a storm. Her reference to choking was something which cut against the fragile ego of the dead man. As did her biting recalls to Skor, and the apparent rapport with Supreme Leader, both of which rankled him. How could she have been in favour given her ineptitude? Was it not the agency which had failed him, not his failing to Supreme Leader.

Nonetheless, for now, he would keep composed, allowing for the Director's threat to pass, until he continued. "Perhaps Director Shepard," He began, disabling his facade. A brief wave of static rippled, and the strong, physical form of Rausgeber dissolved before the FOSB delegation. From the static, came the cold, and calculated glare of a blue tinted faceplate, and the bareness of a droid body drabbed in a white tunic. His face, unamused. "You forget your place here." The droid coldly retorted.

"Your sewing circles and tea parties do not conquer systems." He then gestured to his crew pits, filled with officers, quietly trying to perform their duties in the awkward vacuum overhead. "Technology, progress and the sacrifice of our navy does." He pointedly hissed, before approaching, "Operative Posiedon was a key weapons developer who assisted in crafting perhaps the most powerful shielding system known in this Galaxy." The droid continued, "So consider it a shortcut, perhaps. But were it not for his key knowledge, we would have certainly never developed such assets."

He then waved away her offer of requesting reports. He was now pacing back and forth, the hum of repulsorlift echoing through the near silent bridge. "I do not need such documents." Rausgeber dismissively barked. "No, I want Posiedon returned to me." He then turned, right before the Major. "His knowledge and information is critical to our continued technological understanding of kyber crystal and their application in military production." he then paused, "So he will be returned." A snarl curled upon his face.

"Alive."

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Location: FIV Pellaeon, Hangar Bay
Gear: Lightsaber, Over-the-Ears Music Player, Wrist Comlink

These people were acting like they'd never seen a youngling before.

The young Atrisian had dropped his armor off with the droid cleaners who handled stormtrooper gear. It was actually fortunate that this star destroyer was here. If he'd had to wear that armor all the way back to Skye, the TIE would have probably gotten rather stinky. Blood had a rather strong odor to it, especially when it started to break down.

Well, lucky for that... and for food. Even getting lunch here, he'd probably still need to stop at Virgillia to refuel again before continuing on to Skye.

The headphones-like music player was resting atop his shoulders, framing the neckline of the black garments that he wore. The clothing worn underneath the Ren armor was not unlike those worn by stormtroopers, prompting further confusion about the child walking around unfettered, with a lightsaber bouncing against his thigh. He entered into one of the mess halls that serviced the lower sectors of the massive star destroyer, finding it occupied by stormtroopers, maintenance crews, and a handful of pilots -- all of whom seemed to regard the boy as either a strange curiosity or an intruder.

Passing through the cafeteria line, the youngling pulled together a meal of mynock wings and a slice of cream pie before making his way over to a table that was nearly empty.

And then did empty out when he sat down and the maintenance crew at the far end decided that was was time for them to leave.

Sliding the headphones up over his ears, the boy dialed up the synth-pop and then started diving into the spicy wings.

 

[The Major]

The FIV Pellaeon, Near the sixth planet of the Hoth System
Morale: High
In Conversation with: [member="Robogeber"]

What a common reaction by a being who should have been above such trite insults. Rather than let the chiding of the Grand Admiral put the Major out of place, she somehow managed to grin an even bigger grin at his mention of her work being little more than “sewing circles and tea parties.” Funny. She wondered how many times the great Rausgeber actually hefted a rifle in battle; she wondered how cleanly her axe could chop the coddled robot’s head off. Its special songsteel construction could no doubt make a proper mincing of the collection of wires hidden behind a face.

“Alive you say? Your wish is my command.” To which she followed with a quick flourish by removing her cap and crossing it across her chest. Clearly, an overwrought reaction to dignify the response to another warmonger chasing his own glory.

“But I have a rather nuanced proposal. A more discreet solution, if you will. Would you like to hear it?” She replaced the white feathered cap back up her head and readjusted her glasses, still quite pleased with herself today despite the odds.