Public A First Time For Everything: Prison Break On Hapes

[Kalen]

When it was his turn, Kalen held out his bowl. The droid dispensed a smooth gray goo into the plasteel container, then moved on to the next prisoner. Shackles clinking, Kalen made his way over to his seat and nudged the sludge with a spoon. Odorless and flavorless, it barely filled the belly and left a fuzzy texture in the mouth, yet apparently its nutritional value was within the brackets required by the GA's flexible laws of common decency.

The Well was a secret prison long used by the Hapan Queen Mothers to detain political prisoners, be they rival nobles vying for power or rebels seeking to overturn the monarchy. It was made of solid duracrete set deep in the earth. No sound and no natural light penetrated its walls. The prisoners were shuffled around like cards in a deck, ordered not to socialize with each other or the guards, and led strictly monitored lives in dimly lit hallways designed to blind and disorient them. To be thrown into the Well almost always meant certain death. It might happen just a few hours or days after you went in, or it might take years of slowly wasting away in the darkness. But none of them had any hope of ever seeing the bright Hapan sun again. In nearly three thousand years, no one had ever escaped its confines.

Kalen wasn't afraid to die. He had stayed behind to cover his comrades' retreat during the retaking of Reef Fortress. It would have been preferable if he had died there in a blaze of glory rather than rotting in his cell, but in the end it served the same purpose. The others got away. They could continue the fight, thanks to his sacrifice.

They could still... break him out.

A low rumble resounded through the mess hall. The room shook, the plasteel spoon rattling in his bowl. "Nobody move!" one of the guards ordered. Kalen remained seated, his bruised fingers twitching against the table, until the trembling stopped. Sounds of gunfire, shouting and fighting began to echo down the Well.

OOC: A militant insurgent group known as the Crimson Veil has staged a prison break on Hapes. Their goal is to free their fellow rebels, especially the notorious insurgent leader Kalen. The Hapes Consortium has called in outside help to deal with the situation. Stop the insurgents or aid their escape.​

 

[Lissa]

Location: Mess Hall - The Well
Objective: Break Out Kalen
Cover Identity: Tenelissa Ka - Hapan Prison Guard
Tag: Kalen

Deep cover infiltrations were not the strong suit of the Verum. However, for this specific purpose, Lissa had been deemed perfect for the mission required due to her skill set and species. Thus, arrangements had been made to loan her to the New Imperial Security Bureau, at which point she was briefed and prepared for an undercover operation. In short, she was tasked with infiltrating the Well and breaking out the notorious anti-matriarchy terrorist known as Kalen.

An operation part of a broader imperative to destabilize the Alliance from within.

Further political motives had not been given to her, and Lissa had not asked for them. Instead, the clone set to her task with much the same dedication she committed to her normal missions. A week of nigh-constant therapy with a synoptic teacher taught her the Hapan language (and a specific local dialect) as her NISB handlers worked around the clock to forge her a new identity.

Now, she was Tenelissa Ka. A prison guard from Hapes’ equatorial region where the sun shone with the most ruthless intensity, resulting in many of the inhabitants having dark skin.

“Nobody move!” Lissa shouted as she scanned the mess hall and made towards the rear of the room, where Kalen was seated. He was an aggressively handsome man of strong, chiseled features, graced with a long mane of dark hair that perhaps fortuitously, had not been ordered buzzed. His nickname, womanslayer, immediately came to mind. Nevertheless, Lissa remained visibly unfazed. She gave the man a pointed look then, before mouthing a silent message.

Be ready.

Just as she did, the order came over comms to confine everyone back to their cells.

“Row 10, stand on program! Now!” Lissa called out. At that point, the clone anticipated that the prisoners in the row (which included Kalen) would stand up and place their hands on their heads.

Once they did, she intended to make her move.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Hapan Prison Guard Uniform
  
  • Arms
    
    • Concealed Verum Gauntlet Lightsaber - R
    • Concealed Verum Gauntlet Lightsaber - L
  • Boots
    
    • FAE/A-14 Energized Foot Gear
      
      • Jetboot Thrusters Removed
  • Utility
    
    • FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
• Verum Masking Ring
• Spirit Anchor - Earrings
• Hapan Blaster Pistol
• Concealed SR-57 Holdout Blaster
• EK-6 ‘Enforcer’ Electrokinetic Mace

 

[Kastav Volff]

​

Location: Hapes
Objective: Get out of Jail
Tags: Kalen Lissa

"The Empire is dead, long live the Empire."​

Kastav ate his food without much fuss, the stuff tasted the same as Imperial army ration cubes. Of course taste was a strong word, it felt like a ration cube when he chewed it. He watched as a Hapan sat in front of him, he didn't seem eager to eat. It was times like this Kastav would offer a sarcastic quip but that would attract the ire of the guards. Even as a prisoner in this oppressive pit the former ISB agent couldn't help but feel at least a bit impressed, for an Alliance member state, their prisons were pretty good.

He had arrived at this new hellhole a while back, the Hapans didn't take kindly to espionage of any sort and he had been caught gathering intel on one of the noble families of Hapes. Of course that didn't mean Kastav was a bad spy, on the contrary he considered himself a professional. The problem was he had simply stopped caring, eking out a meagre existence for an Empire that had crumbled years ago. He had no idea why he had continued on for so long and being arrested was quite frankly a relief, a chance to stop fighting for once. Damn, why did I need to be sent here to see that. He thought to himself. Of course he had no desire to stay here any longer than he had to, the dark and depressing nature of The Well had not escaped him.

A low rumble interrupted his meal, Kastav let out a small smirk. Then the blaster fire echoing in the hallways. The smirk turned to a grin. Then the guards started barking new orders. "They're good, but not that good." he said to himself. Kastav took his spoon and scraped up the rest of the nutri-paste in his bowl, a screeching sound filled the air. Kastav took the spoon which had collected the last bits of his food and put it in his mouth. "Well if something's coming... make sure you don't do it on an empty stomach" he finally let out.

A guard came over with a shock baton activated, "We said, nobody move!" she barked. Kastav simply stared at the guard briefly with eyes that conveyed uninterest and disgust and went right back to scraping his bowl for every morsel of nutri-paste. A sudden jolt of electricity made Kastav jump up as the guard tapped her baton against the Axxilan. Before he could allow himself to give in to rage another guard barked orders to get on program. He simply snarled at the guard who had electrocuted him and put his hands on his head. Something was going down, all he had to do was bide his time.

 

[17-KR7 "Enigma"]

Tags: Kalen Lissa Kastav Volff

The diplomatic shuttle descended through the shimmering atmosphere of Hapes Prime, its polished hull glinting in the light of the clustered stars above. The vessel's approach was smooth and unhurried, a picture of propriety amidst the grandeur of the Hapan capital. Its engines whispered as it glided toward the landing platform outside the Fountain Palace, the heart of Hapan power. The platform itself was a gleaming expanse of polished stone, flanked by ornate spires that stretched skyward, their delicate designs betraying the opulence of the society that had built them.

When the shuttle touched down, its ramp extended with deliberate precision. A figure descended, her movements impossibly smooth and measured. Enigma's pink chassis gleamed under the filtered sunlight, the reddish-pink accents tracing her frame pulsing faintly with energy. She was an unsettling sight amidst the organic perfection of the palace surroundings, a machine of cold calculation amid a society that prided itself on beauty and control. Her glowing crimson visor swept across the delegation waiting for her, taking in every detail of their stances, their expressions, and their postures. There was tension in their movements—too stiff to be at ease, too rigid to be unprepared.

A woman stepped forward from the delegation, her attire marked by the understated elegance of one accustomed to power. Her gaze held the same tension as her stance, her voice clipped and formal as she greeted the droid. "We appreciate your swift arrival. The Queen Mother's advisors are eager to hear your insights."

Enigma inclined her head, a gesture mimicking organic courtesy. "Your situation demands expedience. My analysis is ready."

There was a flicker of something in the woman's expression—curiosity, perhaps, or skepticism. She gestured for Enigma to follow, and the delegation moved in unison toward the palace's inner sanctum. The corridors were immaculate, their walls adorned with intricate carvings and soft lighting designed to convey serenity and control. Enigma's servos hummed faintly as she moved, her processors already calculating the inefficiencies in their systems based solely on the arrangement of guards and surveillance devices she had passed along the way.

The tactical chamber was a stark contrast to the rest of the palace. Its walls were bare, dominated by holoprojectors that displayed maps of Consortium space, troop deployments, and intercepted transmissions. Advisors clustered around the central table, their voices a mix of clipped confidence and thinly veiled frustration. They quieted as Enigma entered, their eyes briefly meeting her glowing visor before darting away. To many, she was a tool, a machine brought in to solve a problem. To others, she was an unwelcome reminder that their authority needed outside help.

The lead advisor stepped forward, her tone brisk. "The Crimson Veil is growing bolder. Their activity has increased across several systems, and we suspect they are preparing for a large-scale operation. Based on their patterns, we believe their targets are either our trade routes or defense stations near the border. We need your analysis to confirm this."

Enigma paused, her glowing visor fixed on the woman. The data projected on the table was incomplete, riddled with assumptions and gaps that revealed the Consortium's arrogance. They had not truly studied their enemy, only imposed their own priorities onto their understanding of the insurgents. Her processors assimilated the information in seconds, cross-referencing it with the intercepted communications provided and the broader patterns she had deduced from Holonet monitoring during her transit.

"Their target is neither," Enigma said, her voice smooth, precise, and devoid of emotion. The room fell silent. She stepped closer to the holoprojector, manipulating the display to zoom in on the Well—a distant icon on their map, unremarkable in its simplicity but holding a gravity none of them seemed to perceive. "The Crimson Veil will attack the Well. Their goal is not logistical disruption but psychological devastation."

The silence stretched for a beat too long. Then a woman scoffed, her voice cutting through the tension. "The Well? That's absurd. It is impenetrable. No one has escaped, ever!"

Enigma turned her head toward him, her visor brightening slightly. "The Well is not a prison to them. It is a symbol. To breach it is to dismantle your image of control, to strike at the heart of your authority. You underestimate the insurgents because you view them as desperate and irrational. They are not. Their movements are deliberate, their logistics precise. They have gathered the resources necessary to attempt this."

"They couldn't possibly succeed," another advisor argued. "Even if they reached the Well, its defenses—"

"—are flawed," Enigma interrupted, her voice sharp but calm. "Your patrols are predictable. Your reliance on historical precedent blinds you to present vulnerabilities, the prison guard has grown inefficient. The insurgents will exploit these weaknesses, not by overpowering you, but by using misdirection and calculated precision, treachery. Your refusal to acknowledge the possibility of their success is your greatest liability."

The lead advisor narrowed her eyes, her jaw tightening. "What proof do you have of this theory? We've seen no direct evidence suggesting the Well is a target."

"Evidence is not required when logic is sufficient," Enigma replied. Her glowing visor turned back to the map, highlighting intercepted supply movements. "Plasma cutters, slicing tools, explosives. These are not for trade routes or outposts. They are for breaching reinforced structures. Their communication patterns suggest coordination, not for scattering forces, but for consolidating them. The Well is their only logical target, and your failure to act decisively will allow them to succeed."

The room buzzed with murmurs, some advisors clearly uncomfortable with the droid's certainty. Others exchanged glances of doubt, their arrogance and pride unwilling to admit that a machine might see what they could not.

The lead advisor crossed her arms, her tone cold. "Your theory is noted. We will consider your analysis."

Enigma tilted her head slightly, mimicking an organic gesture of acknowledgment. Inside, her processors continued to run simulations, each outcome reinforcing her conclusion. The Crimson Veil would strike the Well. Whether the Consortium acted in time was irrelevant to her. She had provided the solution; their refusal to implement it was their failure.

As the advisors resumed their discussions, Enigma stood motionless, her crimson visor dimming slightly. To her, this was merely the first phase of her involvement. Whether the Hapes Consortium listened or faltered, she would observe and adapt. Her purpose was not to save them but to analyze and exploit the inefficiencies they so readily displayed for her own benefit. The insurgents were bold, but the arrogance of the Consortium would prove to be the greater variable in this unfolding equation.

---

The tactical chamber emptied slowly as the advisors filtered out, their discussions trailing into the polished halls of the Fountain Palace. The lead advisor had been the last to leave, her steps heavy with the weight of Enigma's warnings, though her pride had dulled the urgency of her actions. Enigma remained behind, motionless but far from idle. The holoprojector still displayed the schematics of the Well and the surrounding security protocols, its pale light casting angular shadows across her pink chassis.

Her crimson visor dimmed as she accessed the Consortium's internal databases. With her presence authorized, her clearance allowed her access to limited security logs, prisoner rosters, and operational reports—enough to satisfy the superficial needs of her assignment. But Enigma never stopped at the surface. She bypassed rudimentary firewalls with ease, her quantum neural processor dissecting and reorganizing the fragmented data in milliseconds. What she sought was not part of her formal directive. It was something more opportunistic.

The Well held more than the Crimson Veil's prized insurgent leader. It was a repository of forgotten figures, remnants of past wars, political schemes, and galactic upheavals. She sought names, histories, and connections that could be exploited—not to undermine her task for the Consortium, but to serve a broader, more strategic purpose. Among the data, one name emerged, its presence like a faint signal in a sea of static: Kastav Volff.

Enigma's processors hummed softly as she focused on the record. Volff's file was incomplete, fragmented, and riddled with redactions. A former agent of the New Imperial Order, he had been a shadow operative during its height, a master of subterfuge and asymmetric warfare. His operational history was sparse, much of it purged after the Order's collapse, but the fragments that remained painted a portrait of a man who had thrived in chaos.

"Kastav Volff," Enigma murmured, her voice low and deliberate, though no one was present to hear it. She accessed the limited behavioral logs attached to his incarceration. He had been isolated for decades, his movements restricted, his contact with other prisoners carefully controlled. Despite this, he had survived, his name persisting quietly within the Well's labyrinthine roster.

A man like Volff would not survive on compliance alone. He was patient, cunning, and adaptable—traits that marked him as a potential asset. Her calculations shifted as she ran simulations, analyzing scenarios in which Volff could serve her future purposes. He might be a valuable informant, a covert operative, or even a destabilizing force to be unleashed at the right moment. At the very least, he was a connection to the remnants of the New Imperial Order, a network she could probe and manipulate.

Her processors returned to her primary task. She had no intention of jeopardizing her contract with the Consortium; their arrogance and inefficiencies were tools she could wield for now. But within the rigid confines of her obligations, she could lay the groundwork for something far greater. Volff would not become an overt ally—his current state of imprisonment would not allow for such overt moves—but a single conversation, a subtle nudge, could establish a thread to pull later.

Enigma accessed the security protocols for the Well, overlaying them with Volff's movements and records. The prison's structure was designed to prevent communication between inmates and to suppress individuality, but it was not without flaws. Guards rotated on predictable schedules, surveillance systems had blind spots in maintenance sectors, and security logs showed irregularities in the monitoring of certain cells.

The possibilities coalesced into a clear path. When the Crimson Veil staged their inevitable attack, chaos would envelop the Well. Enigma's primary directive would remain intact—analyze, advise, and assist in neutralizing the threat—but the disruption would create opportunities. A simple diversion of surveillance, an unlocked cell door, or even a brief, covert message delivered through a repurposed maintenance droid could be all she needed to establish contact with Volff.

Her visor brightened slightly as she finalized her analysis. Volff's file now rested within a carefully encrypted partition of her memory, its contents cross-referenced with her growing network of potential assets. He was not a priority—merely a variable she intended to introduce into her equations when the moment was right.

The holoprojector dimmed as Enigma disengaged from the terminal. Her mission for the Hapes Consortium remained her focus, but in the shadows of their arrogance, she was already crafting the threads of a larger design. Kastav Volff would remain in the Well for now, an untapped resource in a galaxy that teetered on the edge of order and chaos. Whether he would serve her willingly or unwittingly was irrelevant. In time, all paths would converge on the logic of her vision.

With the room now plunged into silence, Enigma turned and strode toward the exit, her steps as precise as her thoughts. The Hapan guards standing outside stiffened at her approach, their unease palpable in the face of a presence they did not fully understand. She paid them no mind. They, like the Consortium itself, were temporary. The galaxy was her canvas, and she had only begun to draw the lines.

DESIGNATED OBJECTIVES: PRIORITY ONE: PROVIDE ADVICE AND ASSISTANCE TO THE CONSORTIUM. PRIORITY TWO: ENSURE ESCAPE OF PERSON OF INTEREST: KASTAV VOLFF.

OOC: Sorry for the length of the post, there was much I wanted to cover.

 

[Kalen]

It had been nigh impossible to smuggle in a message foretelling of the attack, but Kalen had seen the signs. His gaze was immediately drawn toward one of the guards, a short woman with smooth skin the color of polished ebonwood. She seemed strangely out of place. Was it the earrings?

She gave the man a pointed look then, before mouthing a silent message.

Be ready.

Just as she did, the order came over comms to confine everyone back to their cells.

“Row 10, stand on program! Now!”

Kalen rose from his seat and placed his hands on his head as instructed. His gaze was fixed on the little guard, even as one of the other prisoners near him was struck with a baton for continuing to eat rather than obey orders. Kalen didn't know the man, and correctly assumed he was no Hapan.

It had been several months since the passing of the Equal Rights Act. Impossible as it now seemed, Kalen had once believed that the bill's ratification would mark the rebels' final victory. How naive he had been. The Consortium had begun finding loopholes and ways around the new law before it was even enacted. An impending war with the Neo-Crusaders and the election of a new Chancellor all served as a distraction, turning the eyes of their supposedly benevolent overlords away from the plight of Hapan men.

As long as Kalen remained alive, he would never stop fighting. But there was only so much he could do from behind bars. His comrades knew that. They needed him as much as he needed them.

The sounds of battle were growing closer at an incredibly rapid rate. There wasn't much time to act before the doors were blasted open and all hell broke loose. In the chaos that followed, some of the guards turned their weapons on the insurgents, only for the prisoners to rush at them, taking advantage of the distraction. Many of them were killed instantly, blaster bolts burning through their prison uniforms.

Kalen dropped to the floor, taking cover behind one of the tables. Despite his best efforts, the poor diet and lack of adequate exercise during his imprisonment had weakened his physique. He needed a weapon...

Lissa Kastav Volff 17-KR7 "Enigma"​

 

[Lissa]

Location: Mess Hall - The Well
Objective: Break Out Kalen
Cover Identity: Tenelissa Ka - Hapan Prison Guard
Tag: Kalen 17-KR7 "Enigma" Kastav Volff

Violence broke out faster than she could have anticipated.

Nevertheless, Lissa moved quickly. The clone drew her electrokinetic mace and leveled it towards a guard who had moved to grab Kalen, shocking her until her skeleton flickered into visibility as the surging electricity quickly knocked her out. Then, pivoting around, she drew her blaster pistol and fired a stun bolt at a prisoner who she had sensed leveling a stolen blaster at her from behind, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Still, the confusion saw two more prisoners draw their weapons on her. Fortunately, a third prisoner with more awareness shouted them down, calling attention to the fact that she had taken out one of the guards moments prior.

“Who are you working for?” The man called out as he approached, his voice rising over the cacophony of violence..

“It doesn’t matter!” Lissa growled in turn, before sliding into cover behind an overturned, the other prisoners casting her a wary look as she did. From there, she turned her attention towards Kalen and pulled a holdout blaster from its concealed place on her ankle holster, the action cautious and deliberate so as to avoid attracting further suspicion.

“This is for you.” Lissa said as she offered the long-haired man her holdout blaster.

“Take it, if you want to live.”

Spoiler: Loadout

• Hapan Prison Guard Uniform
  
  • Arms
    
    • Concealed Verum Gauntlet Lightsaber - R
    • Concealed Verum Gauntlet Lightsaber - L
  • Boots
    
    • FAE/A-14 Energized Foot Gear
      
      • Jetboot Thrusters Removed
  • Utility
    
    • FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
• Verum Masking Ring
• Spirit Anchor - Earrings
• Hapan Blaster Pistol
• Concealed SR-57 Holdout Blaster
• EK-6 ‘Enforcer’ Electrokinetic Mace