Confederate Rendezvous

[Kyyrk]

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[youtube]https://youtu.be/A9_h1lHM0Is[/youtube]​

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0825 HOURS, ARCHAE TEUTHIS SYSTEM, OUTSKIRTS OF CONFEDERACY OF INDEPENDENT SYSTEMS TERRITORY​

VINTAGE HEART, Aquila-CLASS FRIGATE, COMMAND ROOM​

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Voph stood in the Command Room of the Vintage Heart, his flagship for smaller operations such as this. A scouting run, along the Corellian Run hyperlane. They had stopped at the edge of the system, clearly within CIS space, but still on the outskirts. Easily find-able, which is exactly where Voph wanted them to be. Voph had been away from Commenor for some three weeks now. Ever since the safe return of the planet's wayward Monarch, Voph had not been content to simply sit at his desk and file paperwork. He'd gotten a taste of freedom again. He yearned for it again. In spite of the worrying and protest from Lady Silfe, he'd never felt more alive when he'd earned those scars on Dohmus Prime.

Voph turned to his chief officer and motioned him to the bridge. He turned, and walked along side the man, his armor-clad feet clanking against the floor plates as he walked. "Keep the ECM offline for the time being. We don't want to look suspicious out here. If someone starts getting too close for comfort, you bring the ECM online and get out of here." Voph's arms were clasped at the small of his back. He was rather calm, his voice its usual emotionless rumble, with vague flecks of disinterest sown amidst the crisp Imperial accent. "I don't want a repeat of Dohmus. But, if it comes to it, leave me behind. The crew comes first." The officer nodded silently as they stepped into the bridge.

It was a simple affair, two seats for the pilots, a seat along the right hand bulkhead for Navigation, and a seat opposite that for the Communications. Voph took a seat in the captain's chair, resting against the back wall, nestled between the twin doors leading to the rest of the ship. "Communications, open a channel. Standard Civilian frequency." Voph reached up, and pulled his helmet down over his head, the Mandalorian T-Visor sealing shut around his neck. He wouldn't need it now, he'd wait until a direct line of communication was established, then he'd engage the holocommunications.

"This is High Councilor Voph Sitdrisa'yr of the Octarchy Covenant, broadcasting across all Civilian frequencies. Our intentions are peaceful, we mean no harm. We seek an audience with those who would call themselves the leaders of the Confederacy. Our ship is located at the included coordinates near Archae Teuthis. If you see fit to converse, we will await your arrival, or set course for a location of your choosing. We await your response. Voph out."

Voph's right leg came up to rest his ankle upon his left knee, his fingers coming together to steeple in front of him, his middle fingers resting on the helmet where his mouth would be. Now they waited. Voph had faith that the CIS would humor his proposal, at the very least. Alwine had played some part in that. Voph wondered for a moment if he should have contacted her directly. Well, it was a little late for that now. He'd just have to wait to see who decided to wander by....

[member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] [member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Allya Vi'Dreya]

Theme



After the message, time passes. Whether it was being thought about, or it took time to get there, or both, was unclear. However, the CIS did indeed humor his request, in the most appropriate way they possibly could. As the ship waited alone in the expanses, two much more massive ships exited hyperspace. The first ship blotted out the space around it, massive beyond belief, the Dread Queen, and in her shadow, the smaller, but still imposing Angelic Fury. Father, and daughter. Almost immediately, the massive hangers of the Angelic Fury opened, launching wave after wave after wave of fighters. The swarm of smaller craft moved to the Dread Queen, taking up escort positions and tactics. The smaller protected the larger.

From the massive hanger bays of the Angelic Fury, a Styx-Class Drop Ship was launched. It had a boarding sleeve on one side, so that it could attach to a ship that had no hanger, or was to large to fit in another's hanger. Once it launched, several fighters moved along side it, providing escort. As the shuttle approached the Vintage Heart, a holo-comm signal went out, and if accepted the holo-comm, the image of a figure fully clad in Mandalorian armor, and wrapped in a dark hooded cloak could be seen. Her voice was filtered through the helmet, masking the age of the individual quite well.

“I am Adjudant Vexia of the CIS Defense Force. You have expressed a desire to meet with the leadership of the Southern Systems. We have heard your request and desire to grant it. If you still desire for this, please, lower your shields, and we will dock, to take you aboard. You and your people will not be harmed. However, if you wish to leave, we will not interfere with that either.” The holocomm would stay active for any communication they received.

Once the communication was done, the girl leaned on the seat, eyes narrowed a bit. Who was this? She had heard a bit of this Octarchy Covenant....and this Voph. However, what was the purpose? Arms crossed and she looked out the cockpit window, as the troopers with her flew the ship towards the Vintage Heart. Shaking her head, she smiles in the helmet. It was exciting, she was getting to be her father's herald. It made her heart race, made her feel important, and it was all she could to not bounce joyously in her seat.

[member="Darth Metus"] [member="Voph"]

 

[Kyyrk]

Voph did not move at first, simply observing the ships exiting hyperspace. CIS ships. If only because we was detecting more than one Force Sensitive among them. Voph leaned forward in his seat, watching the ships with interest. Some of the crew began to look nervous. Voph held his ground. He stood, anticipating an incoming hail as several smaller ships departed and began to fly towards the Vintage Heart. He picked up the cloak that he had left folded neatly by the captain's chair, and pulled it around his shoulders, fastening the chain under his neck as his communications officer spoke up. They were being hailed.

Voph's hands clasped together at the small of his back as the holocom activated. The image of the armored man was broadcast to Vexia's ship, revealing that he too was clad in Mandalorian armor. And yet...there was something different about this armor. The helmet lacked a range finder, and the armor had no clan markings. And...though it looked Mandalorian in nature, it bore no resemblance to modern armors, instead looking more familiar with the traditional Beskar of ancient times. And there was the lightsaber hanging at his waist. Mandalorians usually did not carry such implements. "That is acceptable. We will begin the preparations." Voph's voice was heavily modulated by the helmet, giving it a rough electronic feel. Compounded by the man's deep rumbling bass voice, and imperial accent. And though it was recognized as Imperial... the dialect was...strange. Before the communication was ended, Voph was already turning to nod at the ship's overseer to make it happen.

Voph turned and walked towards the docking port. The ship's overseer walked with him. "Soon as I am onboard, leave the system. If I need you, I will signal." Voph turned to the airlock as it began to cycle open. He stepped through onto the lander craft, waving his hand to shut the airlock behind him via the force, signalling that he intended to venture on alone. Voph paused as he reached the interior of the shuttle craft proper, standing back to his full height, and allowing the cloak to fall around his shoulders, obscuring his armor. Any scans he was subjected to would reveal the weapon systems on his armor were powered down, leaving the only weapon currently at his disposal being the lightsaber at his waist. His helmet turned towards the party sent to greet him, and it was clear to see now they were close that the T-visor on his helmet did not actually reflect light as transparisteel would. Perhaps not a surprise to those familiar with his exploits, but the helmet contained no discernible way to see while wearing it. Not in the traditional sense, anyway...

[member="Darth Metus"] [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"]

 

[Allya Vi'Dreya]

As the docking sleeve pushes away from the transport, and connects to the Vintage Heart, both ships go still. Fighters swoop across the space around them. The doors swish open, creating a small walk way between both ships. Into the walk way, full of confidence strode Allya, head to toe clad in her Mandalorian armor. At her side two of her clone troopers, and two of her favorite Clanker droids walked. The mark of the Dauntless was marked next to her clan symbol on her armor. Her cloak was wrapped around her, and it held the markings of the CIS. As she appeared before the tall man with the Mandalorian armor and Imperial accent, she would be much shorter, standing at only 5'2'' (157 cm). However, the most peculiar thing would probably happen top the Miralukan . She would appear fuzzy and a bit out of focus for him, the taoizin amulets in her armor helping to block her signature in the force. Strangely, any sensors scanning her wouldn't be able to tell if she was armed or not either. However, to ever assume a Mandalorian was unarmed was a foolish mistake.

Armored right hand places itself on the left side of her armored chest, and she bows to the man. “Greetings. I am Adjudant Vexia. It is my honor to take you to the Vicelord, he is expecting you.” Her voice was masked by the mask filters, hiding the youthfulness of her voice some. A hand gestures to her own ship. It was a moderate sized ship, with a good amount of room, comfortable seats. But this was clearly a military vessel, not a diplomatic ship. Inside the ship, several more of her clone troopers stood at attention. She smirked in her armor, and looks over the imposing figure, and her heart beat a bit faster. Oh there was just something about this one that made her excited. Father would like this.

Standing up straight now, she gestured for him to follow her, before walking into the ship, her droids and guards following suit. The choice to follow would be up to the man. No one would force, no one would belittle if he backed out. Oh, but she knew he wouldn't. He was curious, same as her. Nervous, and rightfully so. With her father, the Dread Lord nearby, his greatness coating this system from his flag ship, with the fire power flying around him, for a simple diplomatic mission, who in their right mind wouldn't be?

If he chose to follow them, and even if he didn't, the doors would soon close, and the boarding tunnel would retract, the ship detaching from the frigate, and would begin the flight back towards the Dread Queen. She slid into a seat, and if was with her, would gesture for him to do the same.

“May I ask, what brought you out here today?”


[member="Darth Metus"] [member="Voph"]

 

[Kyyrk]

Voph, of course, followed the girl deeper into her ship. He was, however, not nervous in the slightest. The Dread Queen, presumably the flagship of the Confederate fleet, was certainly an impressive ship, but it was hardly awe inspiring. Not to a man that had faced down the Eternal Fleet and lived to tell the tales. He did, however step towards a window, and turn his helmet to gaze out into the star speckled black, vaguely in the direction of the Dread Queen. He was not nervous, no. He was determined. Duty-bound. He was here for a purpose, and nothing could sway him from this goal. In a sense, it almost seemed as though he was...at home when surrounded by those that could turn on him at any moment.

Voph, of course, did not accept the offer of a seat. Not yet. He felt, rather than saw, the Vintage Heart blip out of the system. Only then did he turn to the seat, and sit down across from Allya. "We are looking for something. Or rather...someone." Voph's blind gaze turned towards the girl, and his brow furrowed under his helmet. He didn't need weapons scans to know she was armed to the teeth. Mandalorians may have changed, but some things remained the same. She required more concentration than normal to focus on. Some trinket she carried, probably. But nothing Voph couldn't overrule. If he could be bothered. In this instance, however, he was content to see what his passive perception granted him.

A hand appeared from beneath his cloak, holding a holoprojector. His hand turned slightly as he activated the device, revealing a ring around his index finger, large enough to fit over the armored gauntlet. As he spoke, his voice was calm. Crisp. Still, the man radiated confidence. This was a man on the hunt. And he was in his element. "Nearly six months ago, Commenor waged war in a bid for freedom against the Sith. There was an individual present at this battle. A mercenary of sorts. Dorin Arkx. He belonged to an order of these same mercenaries that I have since discovered is stationed on Arbra. Or it was. Prior to their total annihilation at the hands of unknown assailants happening in tandem with the Battle of Commenor." The holodevice revealed a figure that appeared to be an average sized human, wearing a rather unique chitinous armor, and wearing a sword at his back. The dark armor and cloth draping seemed vaguely Sith in origin.

Voph continued on, sharing what little he could. Or at least, what he wanted to share. "According to various sources, he was on Commenor by chance when the battle occurred. And he was looking for something. I believe I can understand what happened at Arbra, but I need to find him in order to confirm it. According to our findings, he was last sighted in Confederate Space." He wouldn't tell her the truth. Not that he was lying to her, but that he was not telling the WHOLE truth. Six months ago, The Battle of Commenor had been waged, the attack on Arbra had commenced, and within the week, Voph had been brought back. He couldn't understand why, but he knew, deep down, there was a connection. The Force never worked in coincidences. And this...Dorin Arkx person. He wasn't just looking for something. He was looking for Voph. If anyone was capable of revealing the true happenings of the Massacre at Arbra, it was Dorin...

[member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] [member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Allya Vi'Dreya]

True to their word, the ships do not attempt to stop the frigate from leaving the system. Allya admitted, she would have done the same thing in his shoes. For all the legitimacy in the world, he was still dealing with Sith. She felt his emotions, fed off them. As calm as he was, as much as he had seen, when he spoke of that name, she could feel the conflict inside. Hands folded in her lap, betraying her upbringing some, as she showed great posture, and keen attention to how she was seen. She always had to be the best, and above reproach. When you competed against 40 some odd other children for a parent's attention, and were one of the lucky chosen who were considered legitimate offspring, and your parent was the leader of a powerful nation, how you were perceived was often everything.

“I see. We have one of the best information networks available in the galaxy. If you are looking for someone, you certainly came to the right place.” It would be obvious the girl didn't feel the need to hide her emotions, even through the taoizin amulets she could be felt, a seething ball of dozens of complex emotions. However each one was harnessed and turned into raw fuel for the force abilities. However, her emotions were...distant, detached from the situation now that she was in the presence of another Sith. While there, always boiling just under the surface, what she was actually feeling, and why would be a mystery. However, one thought would be clear: Close.

The ship docked with the Dread Queen, pulling into its executive hanger. It would now make sense why the smaller type of transport was used. The executive hanger wasn't very large. And the ship had no other types of hangers available. She had always questioned how her father ever transported anything on and off the ship, but he probably had some hidden way to do it. It settled with a gentle thunk onto the hard durasteel deck below. “Welcome to the Dread Queen. If you would be so kind as to follow me?”

[member="Voph"]
[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Kyyrk]

Voph turned off the holodevice, his helmet turning to stare at Allya again. And yet...he seemed to be staring through her, not really...at her. His head tilted to the side, and his brow furrowed under his helmet again. She was clearly force sensitive. And yet she wore the armor of the Mandalorians. He was one to talk, sure, but his merely bore the hallmarks of their people. It was not true Mandalorian armor. Perhaps she had won it in a duel of sorts. Voph made a mental note to ask at some point. "Perhaps. But I do not come here to seek your aid, simply to formally request permission to conduct our own search."

Voph stood as the ship touched down. He nodded to the girl as she turned to lead him to meet their host. Voph's arm disappeared under his cloak long enough to store the holoimager on his belt, then both arms reemerged to pull his hood up over his helmet. He walked along side Allya, his arms disappearing back under the cloak now obscuring his armor from visual inspection. As they walked, he continued speaking of his intent. "I am but one man, hardly worth the attention of an entire empire. Dorin was last sighted on Tatooine, so we shall start there. I feel I know exactly where he would have gone."

Though he said Empire, it was not in the sense that he thought the Confederacy was an Empire, but more as a figure of speech. The great collective that was the confederacy had better things to do than to assist him with personal gain. Of course...it wasn't exactly personal. If he was right...Arbra might not be the last. But...cross that bridge when it got here...

[member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] [member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Allya Vi'Dreya]

They walked through the halls. It would be mostly barren looking, as she took him through the hall way that lead directly to the Vicelord's chamber. The clones and droids would be behind the two Sith, ready to leap into action if Voph became a danger. She listened carefully to Voph, the emotions coming from him, the hesitations, it told her a lot. However, then when he spoke about the entire Empire thing, her age came into play for just a moment, and she giggled. “Oh, you clearly don't know my father then. He is very impulsive, prone to flights of fancy and whimsy. He does what he desires. You called, HE came. You have the attention of the entire CIS now, you can't escape it now.”

A smirk went on under her helmet, as images long locked away of her last five years came into view. “For better or worse, you can't escape it when he looks at you.” Her voice held a tinge of emotion. Pain, torment, love, darkness, sadness, fear, determination. The emotions circled her for a moment before she does the unthinkable. While walking along with him, she began to practice a walking Jedi Meditation. Her heart rate slowed, the anxiety fled, her emotions calmed and she was soon brought back to a very stable place once more. “We are almost there.”

Her suit connected to the security doors. After verification of who she was, the doors slide open, and into the place Metus had chosen to have them meet. Be it the Caf Shop, his personal chambers, or a throne room, force knows her father was sometimes prone to theatrics. Either way, she led Voph into them, her heart racing once more. She loved her father, and was happy to see him.


[member="Voph"]
[member="Darth Metus"]