The Admiralty
Wild Space, the final frontier or at least it was a couple of thousand of years ago. Back when the Galaxy made more sense and people (minus the crazy pioneers) sticked to the Core and let other folks do the exploration for them. Before the entire Galaxy was filled up with all kinds of different factions, running on resources that didn’t really seem to exist in the common sense reality.
But you couldn’t argue with stupid, couldn’t try and fix it, at some point you just had to expect that they were here to stay and you simply had to make the best out of a crappy situation.
Once upon a time the Prism had been a secret facility, made to hold the most dangerous of criminals in its cold, durasteel clutches. Operated by a single Master of the Force and a skeleton crew of a few hundred droids the station’s location was secret, classified to the highest ranks of the Order, the location itself didn’t hurt the classification either.
Hugging the mass shadow of the sixth moon of Diab it was almost impossible to pin-point. Diab’s electrical storms on the surface only complicated the matter, sensory data and transmissions were all but impossible to execute.
But once in a while you get lucky, Ovmar was one of those lucky bastards, he had been to the Prism before - hunting down an ancient holocron made by an ancient Master. He knew where it was, knew that few, if any people actually realized it was still there after all those years.
So he decided to put up a claim on the station, Starchaser had been notified of this, of course. You don’t piss in your cornflakes and common courtesy between the members of the Tion Hegemony was a must, it was like… like… cutting off the finger of your associate’s father to coerce him into action.
Such things shouldn’t happen between businessmen and associates.
Ovmar and Janus sat in the cockpit of one of the Sith Lord’s stealth transports, they were here for preliminary reconnaissance; the station should still be pretty much empty, no stormtrooper zombies, techno beasts, rampant AIs, just one big, empty station ripe for the taking.
But plans had a tendency to go wrong these days.
So before the tugging fleet arrived, they would check out the station. Both of ‘em being well-versed in techno-force-magicka Janus and Ovmar should have a home turf-advantage here anyway.
‘So. How’s life?’ Ovmar asked Janus, while steering the shuttle closer to the Prism, while trying to not crash the vehicle against the debris.
[member="Darth Janus"]
But you couldn’t argue with stupid, couldn’t try and fix it, at some point you just had to expect that they were here to stay and you simply had to make the best out of a crappy situation.
Once upon a time the Prism had been a secret facility, made to hold the most dangerous of criminals in its cold, durasteel clutches. Operated by a single Master of the Force and a skeleton crew of a few hundred droids the station’s location was secret, classified to the highest ranks of the Order, the location itself didn’t hurt the classification either.
Hugging the mass shadow of the sixth moon of Diab it was almost impossible to pin-point. Diab’s electrical storms on the surface only complicated the matter, sensory data and transmissions were all but impossible to execute.
But once in a while you get lucky, Ovmar was one of those lucky bastards, he had been to the Prism before - hunting down an ancient holocron made by an ancient Master. He knew where it was, knew that few, if any people actually realized it was still there after all those years.
So he decided to put up a claim on the station, Starchaser had been notified of this, of course. You don’t piss in your cornflakes and common courtesy between the members of the Tion Hegemony was a must, it was like… like… cutting off the finger of your associate’s father to coerce him into action.
Such things shouldn’t happen between businessmen and associates.
Ovmar and Janus sat in the cockpit of one of the Sith Lord’s stealth transports, they were here for preliminary reconnaissance; the station should still be pretty much empty, no stormtrooper zombies, techno beasts, rampant AIs, just one big, empty station ripe for the taking.
But plans had a tendency to go wrong these days.
So before the tugging fleet arrived, they would check out the station. Both of ‘em being well-versed in techno-force-magicka Janus and Ovmar should have a home turf-advantage here anyway.
‘So. How’s life?’ Ovmar asked Janus, while steering the shuttle closer to the Prism, while trying to not crash the vehicle against the debris.
[member="Darth Janus"]