Barab I - Albanin Sector
@Domino, @Rayl Wilded, @Vex Tython
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Barab I - Albanin Sector
"You know, these are really unnecessary, I am on your side remember? All hail the Confederate thing of Stuff and what have you!"
Servus held his hands shackled hands through the prison he was being kept in on the ship. Though they had come to an agreement someone did not feel it was safe to let him roam around unsupervised on the ship. Though he protested it, he had to hand it to them, it was smart. For whatever reason the guy writing his life would just send him on a murderous rampage throughout the ship, plant a few bombs, and then try and crash the damned thing onto the planet and blow it up. Oh, how pretty that would be, seeing an explosion of that scale would definitely light up those right wing propaganda new networks. He wondered how many times he had been on there for various crimes, and for that matter, did they know him by name now?
"Hey you!" Servus shouted at the CIS guard who was watching over his cell. Apparently they had been instructed not to speak to him, he had no idea why, he was lovely to talk to. "Come on, we can be friends! I am a nice guy once you get to know me. I'll start by telling you a little bit about myself and then you can return the favor. Deal? I love reading, but only certain books, I mostly like the violent ones. I love fireworks, but again only certain kinds, and I wouldn't call them fireworks so much as dynamite and C4. Maybe if I could somehow rig up some colors to go off when they explode then I could call them fireworks. Hm, what do you think? HEY I AM TALKING TO YOU!" He grabbed the prison cell cage and shook it violently trying to get the guard to pay attention, but to no avail.
Suddenly something played loudly over the speakers, a speech, and Servus clapped happily through it and jumped around his cell. "You hear that? Liberation, freedom, JUSTICE! You mean we get to do all of that TODAY? Mmmm, I love justice, its a great excuse when you are dealing with people. Though I can't say I am too fond of the people we are attacking. I mean, the black sun? They have some of the best explosives, and cheap to!" He pressed his face against the cell and he let his arms dangle through and he stared the guard directly in the face trying his best to get his attention. "You know, I really don't like you all that much. I swore I wouldn't hurt anyone from this CSI, SIC.... CAS! That's it, the CAS! I swore I wouldn't hurt anyone, but I just may make an exception for you. Don't think they would miss you all too much anyways seeing as you CAN'T EVEN TALK!"
He commenced bashing, kicking, and tearing apart everything in his cell. But it was to no avail, the guy wouldn't budge, maybe he was a droid?
Not what Feena needed at that moment. She was so tired. Still in so much pain. But there was no time to let it get to her. No time to sit and wait for it to dull. She was living off of a steady amount of pain killers, a cocktail of medications to (attempt to) control whatever mystery illness was getting to her. Nobody seemed able to figure out why someone so strong would fall so hard.
A cough racked her whole body. She pulled out a handkercheif at once, covering her mouth. It took a moment to recover, and she sat silently for a while, gasping for air, hoping against hope that nobody would really notice. Thankfully, they'd figured out that whatever it was that she was infected with, was not contagious through touch. In fact, it didn't seem to be contagious through, well, anything. It was the strangest thing Feena had ever seen.
And it infuriated the Archon beyond anything, the fact that even she could not figure it out. This wasn't...fair.
The announcement over head was like a stab to her heart.
I don't know if I can do it this time, she thought, shocking herself as this was the first time she had ever really doubted herself, I... Really don't know if I can do it.
She glanced about. This was not the time to pity herself. Was she the Archon? She didn;t earn that title by kicking herself while she was down. She earned that title for picking everyone else up- regardless of her own comfort.
"Showtime..." The healer sighed, slowly rising from where she had been sitting.
She clutched a medkit in her hands, old, discolored, a little dented in placed, but she always kept it fully stocked. It had been with her from her very first days with the Confederacy. Although her team changed every so often, this medkit had been her constant companion.
"@Keter," Feena snapped, "come with me."
And now she would have her husband along for the trip. It wasn't that she necessarily wanted him there. If she had to be honest, she preferred to work with people she had little emotional connection with. People that would not concern themselves with her too much. But she... needed an assistant. She truly did. She needed someone to make sure she... didn't faint or anything. The fact that she even needed to be concerned about that made her even more angry.
She walked along, heading for the hangar. The plan was simple. Land outside the city, set up camp, and wait for the wounded to come pouring in. It sounded boring, but it was always... tense. Jumping from patient to patient. Always on her feet. Never a seconds rest. And there was always a chance the camp would be attacked.
Gloved fingers touched the pouch at her waist. She had a good stock of pain killers for her patients, but she also brought her own... personal stock for herself. She was going to need it.
Self medication- The one true perk of the medical field.
Edited by Feena Mason, 22 February 2014 - 01:17 AM.
OBJECTIVE: SILENCIO, POR FAVOR
The doors to the brig slid open, and Hannibal walked right on through. Some mook in make-up was causing a commotion, yelling at guards and whatnot. Just stirring up a general ruckus. Why the Serenity hadn't ejected their prisoners into space before something important, like a battle, took place was beyond Hannibal. But he wasn't here to question orders. He was here to go where he was needed, kick some teeth in, and abscond with his paycheck. That was how the Hannibal rolled. The Fondorian mercenary turned the corner, navigating the winding corridors of the detainment area.
He was now outfitted with weapons from his new corporate sponsor, Czerka. The 836 assault rifle was slung across his back in the place his jetpack would have normally been. In a holster at his side, the 835 machine pistol. There was a certain beauty in slugthrowers that Hannibal had come to appreciate. Not the stupid, ugly slugthrowers that were more primitive than anything else. The quality stuff, like what Czerka shelled out. As usual, Hannibal was garbed in his typical mercenary armor (complete with blastproof vest), his helmet, and his gauntlets. No jetpack this time. That was in his storage locker.
"'Ey, Copernicus. Scram. Go on break 'a somethin'." Hannibal ordered the guard standing vigil outside of Servus' cell. As the guard bid his hasty farewell, Hannibal stopped in front of Servus, folding his arms and looking over the uppity prisoner.
"Gee, I didn't know we was ferryin' 'round a circus. What kinda sad-ass clown 'r you supposed t' be?"
Ashin had little use for them.
"Patch me through to the system. Yes, Admiral, the entire system." She sat in a shock couch, in the hangar of the Chrysalide-class battlecruiser Astral Horizon, a vessel that dwarfed even the Confederacy's immense command ship. She had left her trusty Chimaera at home; it had given as good as it got against the Starfall at Kayri, Sienar-modded Kuat engineering facing down the best CEC had to offer, but a little time in drydock would do her beloved Star Destroyer some good.
Besides. If the Chrysalide-class dwarfed the Confederate flagship, how much more did it outscale the Chimaera?
The Astral Horizon was flanked by a small but well-composed fleet, ready to enter a wall of battle formation -- Anathema-class Star Destroyers, Lanyard-class carriers, Permanence-class battleships, and assorted heavy cruisers forming the backbone. To get here from so far away, with such little notice, forbade her from bringing the kind of fleet she wanted to bring. Compared to the Confederate fleet, her contingent was rather small; such were the demands of practicality. She couldn't commit anything else on such short notice, especially not while the Omega Protectorate was still a problem. No, her force could survive, but not prevail, against the monstrous CIS formation. But it was not meant to win the fleet battle, not alone.
All it was meant to do was keep the Confederate forces from steamrolling their enemies uncontested, and make this battle a little more about the people in it than about the ships that framed it.
"This is Ashin Varanin speaking to the Barab star system and the forces of Black Sun. An alliance once existed between the Fringe and the Suns. We come to honor that allegiance. I remember the Treaty of Ithor, where I pledged my word to stand for you when you needed it. The Treaty of Ithor is still valid to me. I wasn't able to defend you at Contruum or Nar Shaddaa, but I will keep my word today. When your leader signed that pledge you became my people, and nobody does this to my people."
The Fringe fleet bore down on the Confederate forces like the Flamewind of Oseon, a cataclysm of stellar scale, enough to make the overwhelming CIS fleet now merely...whelming.
"Confederate forces, once again you've proven yourselves the kind of cowards who prey on the weak that called you friend. I stood on the soil of Geonosis and watched you murder my people. I stood at the gates of the Imperial Palace on Atrisia and watched you send down a suicide fleet to assassinate me. Today the sword Winterlight will taste the blood of your commander. Today I will break your pride. Stop me if you can. Varanin out."
The channel cut, and she flipped the final switches of preflight. Her wife's Aleph-class starfighter streaked out of the battlecruiser's hangar and flickered toward the Confederate fleet. She subsumed herself in the Force, piloting by instinct like the snubfighter jock she'd been in her youth. Her eyes half-lidded beneath the visor of her vac suit as she drove the fastest, most maneuverable starfighter in the galaxy straight into the jaws of Hell.
Straight for the Serenity.
War. It was spreading like wildfire across the Galaxy. Such beautiful, purifying flames that wiped out the filth. Yaga Minor, Atrisia, Ossus, Manaan - where the Jedi had been so eager to engage in war crimes it seemed and Moira had learned that apparently force shields were impenetrable -, Kaiyi, where based on her information the Protectorate was not covering itself in glory, Dromund Kaas. Peace was illogical - more than that it was in her interest to see conflict spread and blood to be spilt in droves, the better to cull the organics.
Now Barab I. Now as someone who had been a sociopath even as a human, Moira did have no moral problems with the CIS breaking treaties or dropping capital ships on a planet. However, she was a firm believer in the democratisation of terror, for there had to be balance. As the Aleph-class starfighter shot out of the hangar of the enormous Fringe battlecruiser, a leviathan of the stars designed to devour ships and fleets, an Examen-class starfighter shot out after it into the vastness of space, where at long last that disgusting thing called peace could be broken. For the true, final order could only come to pass when the Age of Steel was brought to fruition. All the necessary preflight checks had been made, the starfighter was sleek and fast, perfect for the mission its occupant had in mind.
Said occupant being Moira Skaldi, the Butcher of Contruum, an assassin droid with a very good track record when it came to fighting forcers, something honed in the great campaign to wipe out the Bando Gora by Omega Pyre. And, ironically enough, in a raid on a Fringe laboratory on Endor once but why hold on to old grudges? Moira did not hold grudges; she was open about being amoral and the eagerness of the Fringers to actually wage war made them as close to likeable organics as existed presently. As a machine she did not have the Force, but the best calculating and processing power her makers could have given her and so she steered the craft with unerring accuracy as it separated from the Fringe battleship and dove into the gaping maws of chaos with great speed, as the first volleys of intense turbolaserfire and missiles were exchanged, the Fringe fleet falling upon the CIS forces like a pack of ravenous wolves.
A pity she would not have the time to bear witness to the cataclysm, though there was no exultation upon her face, no triumphalism. After all, Moira was not programmed to enjoy this...not due to petty moralism or a ridiculous and asinine desire to be 'more human', but simply because generally one organic was like the other; useful only for processing.
So through space the fighter shot, expertly navigating itself through the hailstorm of fire, avoiding any missiles or debris that might be shot its way. Inside of it the assassin droid was armed with what would probably count as a ridiculously large amount of weapons, but as the saying went, there was no such thing as overkill, there was only open fire and reload. Perhaps the only thing she and Kerrigan would agree on.
One day Moira would murder her as well.
Shooting through space like a dagger she was bound to link up with the Aleph-class fighter of Ashin - studying the Empress in action should be most informative. Towards the Serenity. And towards the death of organics. Whether the Confederacy prevailed or lost the engagement was insignificant to her. Either way the power of the machine was about to be unleashed.
Rock music pounded through the rocky valley nestled behind Alater-ka as the Black Sun hosted its sixth annual bbq celebrating another wave of training complete. The native Barabels were wily and vicious hunters, one of the few true warrior races left in the ever-shrinking galaxy. Something Domino prized after her time in the Postatum. So she'd hired them, better than trying to fight and control them. In return for their military services and training of the regular army, the Suns were sponsoring the terraforming of their planet back to it's pre-Vong state. As an added bonus she even paid them the standard rated in addition to shipping the massive numbers of extra ropos from the breeding faculties here as food where they wouldn't form a market glut. Domino was standing to go talk to a group of them chatting near a fire while eating the critters live from near-by cages when an alarmed Guardsman ran over to her.
Twenty minutes later, several messages had gone out over the PA and every major population center was under evacuation, the party still appeared to be in full swing though as Domino left. The Guardsman kept giving her a running string of updates as he received them from Planetary Command. A Fringe fleet arriving had certainly been one of the last things Domino had expected but it, and it's friendliness) were more than welcome. "Remind me to send them something nice, do you think they'd like the head of whoever's leading this?"
"Uhh, maybe, if the Barabels don't chew the face off first. Mam."
"Point." Something else then, heads were kinda messy anyways. "Fleet status?" She asked as they entered the bunker running deep under the mountain. The things people did with caves when their world was under threat of extinction, how could you not love these lizards?
"Notified, en-route. Your ahh, personal escort jumped out soon after the CIS arrived but only a few light hours beyond the system's edge. Local long-range still has them on the extreme." Hopefully that meant they were beyond the range of less powerful shipboard sensors.
"They did good, a single task force doesn't do well against a fleet."
Arriving at the command center for well, Planetary Command, Domino began receiving the reports directly and could see the status of units on an auto-updating map table below a suspended projection of the planet and the fleets above it. Already air defense towers were reporting readiness and the city's shield that was normally raised to protect it from the lethal solar radiation was being atuniated for the potential of a bombardment. Not that it would stop ships from landing outside its perimeter, but that's what the ADT's and ambush nests were for. As the former Vigo settled in to wait, she could hear the echoing rhythms of metal feet as the garrison of legionnaire war droids marched out of storage to meet the confederacy's own droid army. Outside the party continued seemingly unperturbed, an overt blotch of festivities as the song ended for a new one.
Servus stopped his fit throwing when another person entered the room, well person was a loose term, he was more of a cyborg thing. He once again pressed his face against the cell as the robot told the guard to scram. "Oh Copernicus! I really enjoyed our talk! I hope to see you around sometime." He chuckled lightly to himself, at least he had a name now, and he would make sure to find him a little bit later. Of course he wouldn't be too forthright with it, he didn't want to get killed on this ship before he was allowed to have any fun.
Servus cackled loudly when the robot called him a clown, holding on to the cell bars, and leaning his head back and laughing hysterically at the comment as if it was the funniest joke he had ever heard. Then, suddenly, he stopped laughing and he slammed his head into the cell bars and kept it there while staring the robot down. "You, I like you, a circus he says! He WRITER, make me friends with this guy!" When he shouted writer, he cocked his head and looked upwards, as if he was staring right through the computer screen and was watching me type this sentence before he returned his attention back to the robot.
"Not a circus, no, no, no. You see, the SIC actually hired me to be here. The thing is, they don't trust me alone.... and for good reason. I can't be held liable for the things I would do unsupervised. The thing is, we are all being controlled by a writer, and my particular writer has me do things that.... well let's just say it wouldn't be too good for the cause. Oh, but I am sure you just think I am crazy, that's fine. I actually like it that way." Servus removed his head from in between the cell bars and he back up and took a look at the mess he had created within the cell. He realized that he had uprooted the toilet and thrown it against the wall, terrible timing actually.
"Funny," He said as he turned his back and unzipped his pants and began to pee on the floor of the cell. "You don't really think about the consequences of your actions when you are in the heat of the moment. When I uprooted that toilet I didn't stop to think that I might need to use the bathroom at some point. Such a short term view, and most of the time, quite a nuance to future me. Say, you aren't trying to take a peak, are ya?" Servus chuckled again and he zipped his pants up, whipping around to face the man, and leaning against the wall.
"Now, I know you don't believe me, but let me show you!" He reached into his jacket pocket and he pulled out a letter signed by @Isley Verd that authorized his services. "Go on, read it. The short version is, I am going to be helping you on this little mission, my pack of explosives and weapons are in that little locker over there. Go on, take a look." He thrust the papers through the cell wall and offered them to the man. "Now, if you would be so kind as to let me out of here so I can prepare, from the sound of all the chatter going on the comms the battle is about to begin. Wouldn't want me to miss my shuttle now would you?"
"Oh, and before you say anything, I actually like you and won't try to kill you. You have my word, and I never break my word!"
The Sith Lord was standing in front of the viewing window, seemingly lost in thought for the coming invasion, his hands tucked close his belt where his three lightsabers hung like fangs ready to be bared at exposed flesh. His fleshly polished armor hung with a malicious palor around his frame as the velvet cloak seemed to float on an unseen breeze. Why was he here? Who really cared if the Fringers and Suns and god knows what else crawling at the edge of the galaxy upped and killed themselves? No Daxton didn't give a whit about politics, hell they could be invading because someone was having a bad hair day and it would all be the same to him. Mind you not that the Zabrak every understood the human preoccupation with dead skin cells but that was another story all together.
He was here to fight and that was what he was good at. Clenching his fists in anticipation, he reached out to the Force and tried to sense if anyone was worth challenge would respond in kind.
Piloting had never been a skill of Zaiden's, he had a talent with StealthX, but otherwise was imbecilic at best. Thus he was in his luxury yacht, HORDE, standing at the bay window, "Ashin, I'm here and ready. I'll be landing topside soon, where would you have me first my empress?" He murmured softly to the glass, knowing that even without imbuing tremendous amounts of force that she could hear him. Their connections had proven infallible, stronger then he had ever imagined - it was a work of the Force and destinythemselves now. No matter where he went, whom he sided with, she was there. So he would be there as well, just as now.
"Pilot, head for the surface."
It was about time the Confederacy did something to put the criminal mutts of the Black Suns out of their misery. Someone had to put the bullet to them after the incredible defeat they suffered at the hands of the Republic. The High Admiral of the Confederacy would not be sitting this one out, that was for sure. At the head of the Sector I fleet, consisting of a pair of Lucrehulk Command carrier, 5 Geonosian battlecruisers, 5 Miid ro'iks, and a dozen Bothan assault cruisers. "I want all primary power focused on shielding and secondary power on the guns. Have the Miid ro'iks ready to launch the Qworlth skaals. All ships deploy land vehicles and troops onto the surface." Neilo had commanded. His voice was deep and slow from beneath his helmet, a voice the Confederate navy knew all too well.
A horde of landing craft and gunships descended upon the surface of the planet and began offloading troops and vehicles. It was when the Ramakats were deployed that the real fun began. Their destructive power would prove very devastating to whatever makeshift army the Black Sun had. "Any landing craft that comes from that Fringe fleet, I want them in pieces." he ordered of his crew which was relayed tot he rest of the fleet. "Should the Colonel need support from us, give it to him. Until then, we are strictly focused on bombarding the Black sun forces and providing anti-air fire." Neilo stood up from his chair and wrapped his hands around the railing of his command deck, looking at his fleet before him. Slowly, he removed his helmet and threw it to the floor. He took a deep breath of the air aboard the ship and exhaled. He watched as starfighters came from the Fringe fleet in the skies above the planet and grinned slightly. "Launch the fighters." was his last command before the battle had begun. From his coat pocket, Neilo grabbed a kubaz cigarra and sparked it up nice.
"The Umbaran Grim Reaper is here.."
@Domino | @Ashin Varanin | @Isley Verd
A bright red almakian apple was tossed up and down from Djonas' hand as he walked down the corridor of the carrier under the command of @Isley Verd. The knight managed to negotiate with the Imperator to represent the Fel Imperium in this invasion. Wearing his signature crimson armor, adorned with ebony cape, he marched for the hangar bay and readied himself for combat. Behind him were a few knights of the order, all equipped like the man himself.
A hard chomp into his apple removed a chunk from the fresh fruit. The gunship he jumped on immediately began take off. The knights at his side looked as determined as ever, ready to fight. The gunship managed to dodge heavy fire and land onto the ground. DJonas disembarked and immediately entered the city, looking for a fight. "Let's do this, gents. In the name of the Imperator." Djonas stated as his ignited his silver lightsaber. With one hand on his saber and the other wielding a ball of flame, Djonas was prepared to battle whoever he might encounter.
Keter strode quietly a step behind @Feena Mason. He had been made an assistant to the Archon, though it was a mere formality. He could have been at war with the Confederacy and they would not have been able to deny him access to his own wife. He was straight backed, with hands clasped behind his back as he walked, the image of professionalism. All for Feena. He had switched out his robes for a simple duster, which offered him more pockets to store the various little knick knacks Feena could require - spare datapads, syringes, tubes, elastic bands, glue...and of course his own weapons. He would never leave his wife unprotected, even though he knew that these days her greatest threat was herself.
He would keep an eye on her. Mean while, Barnabus, Slevin, and K-36215 had taken the girls and were currently looking after them on one of the many garden worlds in the Confederacy. Once this battle was done, he would drag Feena there to see them. For her own good. Until that time, he would be Feena's shadow.
Silence from her husband. Fine. She silently entered the massive hangar of the Banshee-class Carrier and went right to the shuttle she was scheduled to take down to the planets surface. It was not the only one heading to her location. She had a few filled with other medical personnel and supplies, and normally, Feena would have taken a moment to double and triple check that everyone and everything scheduled to go to the camp was present. Normally. But she was not feeling up to her usual standards today, and for once, she was honestly dreading the work ahead. Would she be able to handle it? She couldn't let them see how she was doing, her condition. She was supposed to be the very picture of inhuman strength and perseverance. And now all she could think about was how warm her bed at home would feel.
It can't be time to retire yet, can it?
She wouldn't even know what to do with herself if she was forced to retire. She would have to take up a hobby. And then who would they get to replace her? And healers were hard to come by...
Once she had settled into the shuttle, buckled herself in, she started to look in her pouch for the bottle of whatever medication she was supposed to take that hour- along with a little something extra for anxiety. After a moment of looking, she pulled out two pill bottles, one filled with oval-shaped white pills, and one filled with tiny green round ones. One at a time, she carefully took the tops off of each, and swallowed both one after another. She then stored her medication back in her bag and leaned back, taking a deep breath before take off.
Edited by Feena Mason, 22 February 2014 - 10:56 AM.
Oh I've got a lovely bunch of... Shinju cut off while the ship rocked and knocked over her masterwork... Or what she had that at least get her from going stir crazy on the ship and killing people. The slaves they had brought to feed her on the trip were enjoying their time while the alchemically sharpened teeth of the chainblade were being tightened and cleaned. Their services not as required since she only needed to test it a few times on their limbs. Oh the fun there were having at least and oh so much more was going on when the sword was fixed and ready to be used. Fighting the CIS was a fun notion here that she wanted to have and turnign to look at the people at the door to alert the commander if she was roaming around the ship. "Ohhh you think they will have gifts at the gift shop? I want bring something back for Dharma's daughter."
"I'm perfect and can do no wrong, so any insane dribble that comes out of my mouth you should do, cause I am amoral enough that I will kill you just to prove it."
There was wonder in his mind as he walked into the hangar bay, he was not sure what the hell he was doing here anyway. Give him a revolver, some throwing knives and maybe a shotgun and he would clean out the whole planet on his own. But now? now he was assigned guard duty to some Hippy Healer, it was probably because he had drank too much on duty. The fact that his metabolism allowed that without getting too drunk was something his superiors clearly did not understand. He almost shrugged at that, maybe it was good to sit back and relax for a while. Because honestly he did not expect to see much action this time.
Graciously he entered the shuttle he had been assigned to and noticed the woman he was supposed to guard. "You, Archon whatever you call yourself. Seems people up high want you protected, so here I am." the last part he added with a grin, as he pulled out some liquor out of his back pocket and drank from it.
The Confederacy of Independent Systems had made a number of tactical errors during their invasion plans. Chiefly evident was the world in which they chose to invade; Barab I. This was a hellhole of a world which life somehow still survived. Albeit underground until nightfall. During the day, Barab is roasting hot. How hot you ask? The oceans boil and much of the water is evaporated. The sun; a dim red dwarf; gives very little light to the world, but bombards it in gamma, ultraviolet and infrared rays. Coupled with this heat, nothing lives on the surface during the day, or for long anyways. Once the sun set, there were a few precious hours which one could venture out to the surface. The natives, both sentient and non, use this time to hunt before the rains come. And ohh do the rains come. Well, it doesn't rain, or really pour, it kinda floods. But from the sky, if you could understand that. And Hacker had been told it lasts over 20 hours a day, this planet in just mind boggling.
But the boggles were on their side. Radiation, and heat would force them to stay off world during the day. And the torrential rains would wash them away at night if they stayed. That only leaves a few hours a night they need to fight, from their natural fortress, full of a race of warriors and Black Sun soldiers. They had every advantage, and only needed to hold them off until Rayl came with his fleet. So let them come and be mowed down when they try to enter Alater-ka. Hacker loves a good slaughter.
"Hey @Domino. Sorry I'm late to the party. I was eating cereals". Only one man would dare eat the cereals and be late! Hacker! That lovable insane bugger. "So are we going to launch the missile? Or give them a sporting chance"? Hacker tilted his head to the side inquisitively awaiting a response. She knew what he meant. The big one, the grand mac daddy that would be all 'splody and bad for the CIS. But not in the direct way.
@Serock Hoath @Feena Mason
The blond took his seat next to his wife, even as she took her medication. He reached out to hold her hand once she was done, knowing her well developed fear of flying. He looked at her and smiled, leaning over to kiss her cheek in their privacy. And then another person joined them in the shuttle, making his way past the cargo that had been loaded. If he had had eyes, Keter would have narrowed them, but instead he merely settled back in his seat. Feena was Archon, she would deal with this. Otherwise she would probably snap at him for undermining her authority or something similar. He was merely her assistant after all. He gently squeezed her hand as he felt the shuttle power up, prepping to leave.