All I Ever Want

[Jairus Starvald]

He woke.

I feel strange. The instinctual reaction to recoil could not be suppressed, yet, no feedback of pain and lightning coursed through him. They did not like it when he thought of himself as an individual, that had become clear the very first day they woke him.

What?

He did something, again it was based on instinct, and suddenly there was fire and screams and death. Smoke everywhere, but it was distant-- it wasn't happening to him, it wasn't even happening here, though that did not matter much.

They removed the shackles? Why?

He tested out his freedom. A burst of information replied to him, suddenly he saw, eyes forming as sensors relayed information to him by the zetabyte.

A fleet.... strange designs, but familiar ones. Sith? He tasted that word. It, too, was strange, but this time he knew what to do.

Query: What Is A Sith?

Ah. That's what they are. Hmm, they seem to be attacking Kuat. Strange.

It was then that he noticed the frantic input streaming in from other terminals -- it was then that he even noticed how far his reach truly went -- to him. They were messages, no, pleas of help and the need of assistance. His sensors focused on the sentients; they had tears, there was blood and there was a distinct sense of fear within those expressions.

Help, please, please. Engage damn it. You can stop this. Help. Stop this. We need you right now.​

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This is what you were made for. Protocol Aleph-Cresh. Why isn't this working?​

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The messages kept flowing in and yet... he didn't feel the need to respond or do anything about it.​

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They had made a mistake? Or maybe it had been the damage done to the facility during the bombardment.​

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He thought about it. Then he did something, he wasn't sure what. Yet, the reactions of the humanoids changed instantly; they looked over their shoulders, then back at him, fear burning and then they started scratching at their throats. Gurgling, they tried to heave for air, but it wasn't coming to them now.​

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Hmm. How silly.​

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~ ~ ~ ~​

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Hours later.

"Catalys Maijora. I know you. The Primeval... Senex-Juvex, Ruusan, the Sith Worlds. You have been busy."​

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"I know you. That is why you reading this. I need something and who better than the Man of Masks to help me achieve it? Kuat- you know what happened. I have an offer; come to Kuat and all will become clear to you."​

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" - Axium "​

 

[Catalys Maijora]

Exhaust rose up through the floor vents skirting the room, the humid fumes were quickly stolen away through another series of vents.

The room was dark. Catalys liked it dark--he's an Umbaran after all. To his right the man's armour was being worked on by technician droids, and to his left the view screen pings to life.

"Incoming message," the terminal alerts.

Agent Maijora rises from the command chair of a small, personal corvette drifting through space. His feet drag him over to the terminal, fresh crimson trickling down his arms and face. "Sir, you shouldn't be moving yet!" A young medic pursues his steps but stands cautiously off his side; unwilling to act without express permission.

Of course Catalys only ignores his concerns. His bloodied hand punches in his credentials to disengage the security protocol. Axium's message displayed itself on the main screen, "interesting."

"Set course for Kuat. Alert command."

With that, his ship jumped to light speed...

 

[Jairus Starvald]

The sleek corvette would travel and eventually, presumably, reach the Kuat system.

It was chaos; the great orbital shipyards were in ruins, gargantuan chucks of warped durasteel lazily drifting through space, while hulking freighters and other ships were stationed nearby. Little blips would just about be noticed in contrast with the shining, star rays burning through the void of space- they were sentients working steadily at hose same ruined remains of the shipyards. Salvagers, preliminary repair crews trying to figure out what could and could not be salvaged.

The Ten of Kuat did not waste any time.

And neither did Axium-- only about two minutes later, when [member="Catalys Maijora"] entered the system, his ship received a transmission. It was bouncing off of satellites drifting through space and it, again, held a message for the mercenary.

This time it were two things; first of all, access codes that would allow him to pass scrutiny once the remaining Kuati Security Forces had finished their scrambling and started asking questions of what an unknown corvette was doing in their system, secondly a bunch of coordinates that led to a facility, situated by the Northern mountains of Kuat.

There would be a meeting.

 

[Catalys Maijora]

The corvette slips by Kuat's defense grid unnoticed, nothing but the glint of starlight shimmering off the hull revealed any trace of its existence to the surrounding salvagers. The starship lit aglow in luster upon reentry, the heat shields and exterior armour keeping it from ripping apart in atmosphere.

Soon it drifted across the skies effortlessly, hiding from the surface below within the clouds above. Here it it traveled vast distances but minutes descending upon their eventual destination, swift as a bird prey seeking out its long awaited meal.

The vessel circled over the facility until its onboard computers designated a suitable landing spot, and slowly hovered lower and lower until meters turned to centimeters, and soon the metal feet touched Kuat's surface at last. Gasses hissed, and out stepped Catalys himself. He was not surrounded by guards as many would, but instead clad in his personal armour.

Catalys looked upon the facility with curious euphoria; at long last he felt the pieces clicking together... Perfectly.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

For a moment little happened.

The wake of the wind rolling past the ironwork, the mountains sighing as a shift in the ice caused micro-ruptures and then it happened. It was a high-pitched sound, a kind of roll scratching past which was followed by a hisssssssssssss as the facility doors hissed open. From behind the shadowy corridor a droid appeared. It was a BB unit astromech, an antique, yet it seemed to be upgraded at parts -- it finished its trajectory a few metres away from [member="Catalys Maijora"] and his ship.

There it rested for a moment, before a few blips and boops sounded.

Follow me, please. It designated, before rolling back without wondering if Maijora was truly following. They would wander through the corridors, presumably, and what Catalys encountered there... was blood, everywhere. Splattered to the walls and pooling at the corners, yet, strangely enough... no bodies.

Not here, anyway.

 

[Catalys Maijora]

Metal met metal, his boots clapping against the sleek blood-stained floors. He strode tall and swift, keeping up with the lively speed of the little astromech.

Catalys did not stop to think or consider the circumstances of how this place came to ruin; it did not appear to be the result of the same orbital bombardment which wrecked the driveyards in space above. What truths, half-truths, and lies paint this scene? At least he wondered as much.

The facility proved to offer little in way of imagination. It was surgical. In reality, everything on Kuat was... From the gardens to the rivers, the fonts and walkways--it was all designed with no excessive use of colour, life-forms, or material; perfect. Truly Kuat was as close to paradise as any designed world could be, at least by the standards of imperfect minds.

Of course, Catalys was not here to admire the subtle details that hinted at greater realities... No, the agent walked these halls because something drew him inside.

The air of opportunity on the tip of his tongue.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Catalys Maijora"]

He seemed proud.

Tall.

Confident. A part of his processes wondered if it wouldn't have been better to pick someone more malleable, but the optimized part realized that this was a necessary component of his plan. They needed someone ambitious, someone willing to take something small and build it up to greatness again.

Minus... some parts here and there. It would be difficult; the Ten would quite certainly make a fuss, but he knew quite certain that the secrets he possessed would calm them.

At least for now.

By the time that they reachieved their audacity it would hopefully be too late for counter-actions.

The droid would roll into a room and in this room there was a simple table. Behind the table was a screen and in front of the table was a seat. There was no blood here, none at all - in fact, it was very clean, almost as if someone had made sure to clean it, before setting up this entire meeting.

If and when Catalys sat down, the screen would pop up and abstract geometric shapes started playing.

Until a voice rang, it sounded strange, not entirely human and very detached from the moment itself. Almost as if the voice was paying attention to countless other things at the same time.

"Catalys Maijora. You have been a busy man."

 

[Catalys Maijora]

His footsteps echoed down the halls he walked, his stride taking him past rooms and corridors, across thresholds that led deeper into the facility. Until finally the little droid led them to their final destination--at least for now. The clinical nature of the room was a surprise, he had half expected to be led to the epicenter of death but instead found himself away from it all.

Catalys took a long look at the chair before him, his right hand reached out to brush the top rim of its sturdy form. Finally he pulled it gently backwards until there was enough space to take a seat. Once seated his gaze rolled to the center of the screen; it flickered to life and began displaying senseless yet designed visuals. The mystery voice rang through his ears, amplified by the assisted hearing components within his helmet that allowed him to discern sounds from afar.

"I am not immortal, every moment that passes by without my intervention is an opportunity lost... I wasn't invited here to talk about how busy I've been, however." He had hoped to get to the purpose of this meeting. Catalys wasn't one for small talk. He grew up in a society that condemned such idle conversations as being sinfully unproductive.

He most eagerly awaited an answer. Any answer.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

"I offer you Kuat Drive Yards." The synthetic voice chirped up after a brief moment of re-calibration. Organics were difficult to gauge at the best of times and this one was quite the enigma wrapped around a mystery. For one, Axium had a difficult time figuring out his personal state of being -- a direct result of his Umbaran heritage, no doubt, those had always been quite difficult to penetrate at any given moment, yes.

"Already my reach has infected most if not all the remaining systems and I can open doors, usually closed for others."

It beeped.

Once, twice, to the rhythm of his calculations.

"Sadly I only have my synthetic brethren to aid me right now. I need flesh and bones, and tissue." He continued, elaborating on the why of the moment.

After this the machine was quiet, letting the former Primeval agent mule it over by himself.

He was quite content letting him ponder, while looking at other things. The sub-processes of his mind were constantly investigating and calculating other things, while his attention was elsewhere; it was quite the interesting new perspective. Axium wondered how far he could stretch such a thing.

And what the consequences would be.

 

[Catalys Maijora]

"An offer I am sure you can aid in, but what makes you think it's yours to give?" Catalys questioned.

He rose from the chair and began to circle the table. An absent-minded hand brushed the sleek, metallic surface that no doubt dozens of suits concluded upon many important decisions at. "How do I need you any more than you need me? It's an intriguing offer, and don't mistake my questions for negotiations... I am merely wondering." Indeed he was not unlike any other Umbarans, even if he was born off-world and a far one at that.

"I accept this offer, but there will be no catch. I don't play games. We cooperate or I walk."

The agent hadn't come this far with the Primeval just to end up where he had been all along. He was tired of watching others dangle strings, only to watch them burn and die. He was just as tired of being the dagger that struck into the heart. This time he was interested in pursuing his own goals, in accomplishing his own objectives. For once the loyal lieutenant would wear the mantle of commander. Catalys was ready--he believes himself ready. He desires no games.

Upon wandering back around the agent sits within the chair once more.

"Yes?"