Dominion Honey in Leone | First Order Dominion of Absit

[Delilah Graham]

Delilah Graham's first meeting with the Supreme Leader as Home Secretary -- really, her first meeting with Fortan ever -- had followed a curious trajectory. Towards the end of the meeting, Her Majesty had asked Graham for a favor which, as far as Graham was concerned, was an order written in stone. The favor? Look into the plight of one Agent Shepard. Immediately upon returning to the office, Graham ran a search for this Agent Shepard and was surprised to discover that Shepard was Sybil Shepard, onetime Director of the First Order Security Bureau and right hand to Dante Calgar, the first -- and last -- First Order Minister of State for Security.

She was supposed to be dead. That was interesting.

Delilah had ordered a meeting with Shepard, a meeting that had been rescheduled to be aboard the FIV Audacious, a vessel on loan to the Military Intelligence division to provide support to operations on and around Absit. Delilah was not necessarily comfortable shipboard, but there she was. She drew up the status of Agent Crane and Agent Lotus on her computer display and frowned. No contact -- not surprising, but not encouraging. They were in the system, but going... somewhere else. Delilah wanted very much to start pinging the area of space where they were, but any such effort would no doubt alert the Ssi-Ruuk that the First Order was aware of their presence.

Their operation would no longer be clandestine. That would be, as professionals in the business would say, an inexcusable kriff-up.

The appointed time came. She touched the door remote control and said, "Shepard. Come in," said Delilah, standing and gesturing to a seat across from her. "Sit. Do you know why we're meeting?"

The Major | Isobel Nakano | Val Pellian​

 

[Ariadne Gallaer]

Ariadne had a hard time believing the honeyed words of her traveling companion, but he sure could paint a pretty picture with them. A future of security and cooperation. Not likely, she thought to herself, but she smiled and nodded along. "Hope you're right," she said in her characteristically accented, halting basic. "World's big enough for everyone, seems to me. If not the world, the galaxy. But people will be people."

They stopped at Eastwood to let some people off, including (as it turned out), Vega. Doctor Vega, apparently. Very high-fallutin', she thought, but not at all full of himself. "Sure," she agreed. "I'm on well exploration team. Think we're headed north after this. Promising survey location up there." She hopped down off the back of the pickup and began to assist with the boxes. "Nice talking, Dr. Vega." Chunk chittered amiably after him, and Vega was gone with Vekshi.

She hefted the box off the back of the truck and carried it towards the mustering location. Chunk blipped at her inquisitively. "No," she grunted. Chunk blatted another question. "Because I know what's in it. Says right on the box." Chunk beeped what sounded suspiciously like well excuse me for asking in droidspeak and settle docilely against Ariadne's shoulder. Ariadne sighed. Can droids pout? she wondered to herself as she returned to get another crate. Ten minutes later, she leapt back aboard the truck and latched the tailgate and soon they were heading towards the survey location.

 

[The Major]

Sybil hated space. She hated ships. She hated the artificial gravity and the dim lights in the back passages. Mostly she hated that vacuum of infinite void waiting just outside the hull, waiting for that hot minute to ruin everyone aboard. This ill feeling was definitely magnified and intensified since the fiasco at Red Nebula. The FIV Audacious, clean and fully staffed was a far cry from the undead pustule Virulent, but she would be damned if some of the hallways didn’t look the same as those gore stained bulks during that nightmare operation.

Itchy in the eyes, something that these contacts tended to do when the gargantuan Almanian was nervous -much to her chagrin, she marched to the office for her meeting with Madam Graham in a common uniform of the First Order. They had never met in person before (at least, in this life) and every single operation to date under the banner of the resurgent empire had been undertaken with agents Nakano and Dash -usually under their guidance. To say that this shake up in formula had her trembling under the collar was an understatement. Sybil tried to foresee the possibilities of this meeting but it only made her more anxious as she waited to be called in.

The time had come, and Graham seemed to be cordial at the very least as she directed Shepard to sit. Internally, Sybil tried to keep her face stoic and control the moisture in her throat. Would be bad to crack like a tween in sight of the boss. She was asked a question by Delilah, and decided to be honest -not that subterfuge was something the former shell of the Major was capable of at the moment. Honest, without sass or edge.

“No, Ma’am. I do not. I hope that I have been performing satisfactorily during assignments.” No choking, no quips, or existential dread. Progress!

Delilah Graham | Val Pellian​

 

[Raava Starwind]

The Red Whistle

"...And that's how I outran the Bryna'dul blockade over the Kessel system!", Raava concluded with a flourish, cheeks slightly flushed as the collective of scum and villainy roared with approval. She absentmindedly fiddled with the com-link, still on but tucked away, out of sight. The Sheriff had to make it look convincing- that she was not just an out-on-her luck smuggler, but a good smuggler who caught a bad break. She had arrived about thirty minutes, and immediately began grousing about how she had to run a shipment of unrefined coaxium to Black Sun space- from Kessel, under the Brnya'dul's noses. Surely enough, she had begun to attract a growing crowd of rubber neckers and on-lookers- some of whom were buying drinks to encourage her to continue the story.

At least I hope that's what they want. Thank the Force for a healing factor, either way- I heard hangovers are a nightmare.

"Oi, Starwind! You said you had to go to meet that Vigo at Bakura, yea?", a red-faced smuggler inquired surely, getting the crowd's attention. "That means you had to go through those beasties, and Silver Jedi, and Confed space, yea?" He crossed his arms. "How'd you manage that, yea? Ain't no way those goodie-goods with those laser swords would be okay with your little excursion."

Raava shrugged. "You'll find that as long you don't do anything overtly stupid to draw your attention to yourself in the middle of a refugee crisis", she stressed, drawing chortles from the crowd and knowing nods of respect from the old hands, "Then you'll be fine. They literally have a million better things to do then hassle lil ol' me." She sighed, getting ready to stick the landing. "I'll tell you it'll slow you down, though. That Vigo schutta stiffed me for half of what was promised on delivery because I was late by a day. Said I should consider myself fortunate that I got that!" Raava shrugged. "But it's Black Sun- what was I gonna do, file a complaint?"

The quip set off another round of laughter, and knowing looks between the more veteran smugglers. Raava took a moment to take a swig of her drink and survey the room. She was getting some attention- good. Hopefully, word would spread about the smuggler with the YT-1400, and somebody from the Amargosa's circle would pop out from under their rock.

Resurgent Narrative
Amun

 

[Firenne Van-Derveld]

Tag: Resurgent Narrative | Nylea Apollodor | Vhondryl Gallaer | Ariadne Gallaer
Gear: Light battle armor | Lightsaber | Tactical Karambit
Muse Soundtrack: Metallica "S&M - Ecstasy of Gold"​

Perhaps the Force was guiding her to a career in plumbing, she mused, much to the amusement of her wolf, who paced quietly at the back of her mind. First the blocked waterway on Sky, and now this absolutely ridiculous mess of a water problem on Absit. She was more than happy to be of use to the people living here, but there was something to be said for a variety of issues to tackle, instead of the finite list that contained one item: water.​

​

It was critical to life on every planet, but more so on primarily sand riddled planets such as this one. Wrinkling her nose as she lost herself in though, she only half-heard the others chatting about the plans to unblock the Connector they were at and use it to purify the tainted water coming from the polluted aquifer. A long term solution would be put in place as soon as it was available, but this would do for now.​

​

The Sentinel perked up as Doctor Vekshi took their leave, and Doctor Vega split the workers up into teams, directing all of them to where they would be of the most use. Glancing over at Nylea Apollodor , whom she had met on Skye and Crytal Nest, she smiled, delighted to be paired up with the Jedi in the hopes of getting to know the woman a bit better.​

​

She had precious few friends, and almost none outside of the Knights, since leaving Confederate space. The First Order had an uphill battle with the reputation of it's predecessor, as did Firenne with her prior associations and the darkness inherent to many with her own family name. But that was neither here nor there, and all she was doing was thinking herself in circles which wasn't helping anyone.​

​

Firenne could hear Varick gently chiding her in her head and half smiled as she fastened her comm to her wrist once more, before turning her attention to the datapad one of the Doctor's assistants handed to her. "Thank you." she said brightly, walking forward to join Nylea as the groups began to move.​

​

"It's good to see you again, Nylea. Have you had a chance to look at the data yet? Any idea what the blockage actually is?" Firenne said brightly, having waited until the woman was free to speak to instead of interrupting. That would have been unforgivably rude. Fingers scrolled the datapad and frowned slightly at the information, digging through the thoroughly detailed scans to find the blockage's precise location and composition.​

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

​

"S-Sure?" Replied Rajaverde who represented the First Order's army, he wore less armor than the Stormtroopers but his sigil and rank were enough to distinguish him. He was slightly, but if someone was going to make his job easier then so be it. At least no one was shooting at him, yet so he had his team give the kid room. Perhaps fortunate for Sor-Jan the FOSB was gone, and their files were gone with them a relic of the old First Order. One that the Ssi-Ruu took with them when they descended upon Dosuun. Most of the armed forces now were those had survived the Sacking of Dosuun or had come after it had already fallen. "Don't worry, we've got your back."​

​

He ordered his men to give Sor-Jan space, and perhaps to the Corellian's surprise the First Order's army was made of more than just humans. Chiss, Echani, a Zabrak or two marched beside one another. While humans still dominated the First Order's demographics it was still quite clear that they had embraced diversity in a way that they hadn't before. ​

​

Meanwhile. ​

Mr. Branneth watched as the Stormtroopers in their alabaster plastoid armor headed for ARC's corporate building. He walked behind them with a pair of troopers on either side of him. No shots would be fired by the First Order who instead apprehended those in the building and brought them out one by one. "I'm glad they came to their senses," remarked Mr. Branneth on the situation at hand, corporate stooges with their hands zipped together with a duraplast tie. He approached the group even as Stormtroopers continued to escort them out. "Ladies and gentlemen of ARC. I must sadly inform you that you will no longer be operating here on Absit."​

​

"You see, the First Order isn't fond of those who violate the rights of others."​

​

"But- but you-"​

​

Mr. Branneth held a hand to the man his way of stopping him, "yes, yes well, that First Order is gone and we are a new First Order. So. Here's the deal, you're going to go with these nice Stormtroopers into the transport. We'll take you to a holding center in Needan." He paused and then a smirk formed on his face. "It's a really nice place, cold, but nice, anyway from there you'll be asked about all the violations your company has done and of course you'll be asked to testify against them."​

​

"Refuse, and your stay in Needan is extended. Accept and you get to go to Dosuun, a little warmer, a bit dreary."​

​

"Wha- What about-"​

​

"I think you're confused about what's happening here. See, we're moving in to rescue people that your company left to die. The fact that you all decided you were okay with that, well," Branneth took a breath and exhaled, "just doesn't sit well." A tight smile toward them, "so, thank you very much for your time. I'm sure the Amargosa family won't mind paying for your defenses." Assuming they're able to fund their own defense to begin with. Not Branneth's problem.​

​

All the while Rajaverde told Sor-Jan, "we're ready when you are."​

​

The ambulatory ships had touched down and the teams were ready, army, pararescue and medics all at a moments notice ready to rush into the mines and rescue every single miner who had survived the ordeal. Quietly, another transport set down in the distance - a mortuary shuttle. It was a sight that caused Branneth's smile to fade as Lt. Colonel Caceres forwarded a list of the miners, the real work was about to begin and it would be very, very arduous to say the least.​

​

Sor-Jan Xantha ​

​

​

Sahani had made her way quietly to the Red Whistle. She took her seat in a quiet part of the saloon and ordered herself a drink, which wasn't great as it was the local brew Wayward Hops which were wayward alright. Tasted like piss water as far as Sahani was concerned, but she watched as Raava Starwind waltzed in and began to talk, and talk, and talk a lot. Definitely doing the part of selling themselves as someone who the Amargosa family might want to hire for some illicit shipping. Of course any link back to the big man himself would work out just as well.​

​

Then there was someone else who entered, someone who Sahani didn't know but from the looks of it. They weren't from around here either, and so she watched and observed. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that someone was onto whatever it was the Marshal had cooked up with this Raava person. The person she recalled from Baralou not too long ago. Sahani had good sovereigns riding on whether or not Starwind would make it out of there alive. ​

​

Now? Now Sahani just wondered how long it would take before someone caught onto Starwind or worse, got rid of her for good. Still. Starwind would at least serve as good distraction. Someone got up and approached Starwind, and from the looks of it - they were looking to talk with them but not here, out in Zion Canyon if she read the lips right. Zion Canyon. Which meant Sahani needed to get a headstart if she was going to beat someone there.​

​

Amun | Raava Starwind ​

​

​

​

 

[Nylea Apollodor]

After Dr. Vega explained the situation, though most of the technical details went over her head, Nylea was ready to get to work. Having a solution in place to prevent the water flow from getting blocked again was a good thing, but the echani's attention was still on the muck that was currently there. Thankfully she wouldn't be the only Force user here and was even joined by a somewhat familiar face. She had met Firenne on Skye, though they hadn't had much time to get acquainted. The very short first impression had been a good one, though.

"A good day to you as well, Firenne," Nylea said in greeting as she readjusted her hood. The sun was as oppressive as ever, and echani were not built for this kind of heat and strong sunlight. "I have not, actually. I got here right before Dr. Vega's rundown of the situation, so I did not have the time." Such sciences weren't her strong suit, either. Most of her adult life had been dedicated to studying the Force, which was as divorced from the world of science as it got.

"I probably would not be of much help there, regardless. My fiancé is much more well-versed in scientific matters than I am." Elisea's eagerness to learn was something Nylea greatly admired in her. "But I digress. There is work to be done."

Vhondryl Gallaer | Firenne Van-Derveld | Ariadne Gallaer​

 

[Vhondryl Gallaer]

​

"The blockage is a combination of junk, debris, mud, sand and anything else they could get their hands on," Vhondryl read out the analysis. Doctor Vega lowered his head and sighed, the Keshiri shrugged and looked back down at the sludge. She looked over toward the town of Eastwood and back at the sludge. "Maybe we can recycle some of the debris?"​

​

Vega arched a brow and then looked at the Force Users who were present. "Alright, let's get some trucks up here, and then let's move the junk and debris into the trucks. We can sort them out later and figure out what we can use, what needs to be cleaned, and figure out how to best utilize what we get out of this." He smiled, "a very, very thoughtful suggestion."​

​

Vhondryl smiled and gave a polite nod.​

​

"Now, let's go ahead and split up into two teams. I'd like at least one Force User with each. We'll need to be careful on how we do this because I want to make sure that when the water comes back through here, it comes back clean enough that the natural system underground with its porous honeycomb structure can filter the water on its own." Essentially if they moved the blockage too fast it'll come rushing in and pick up whatever contaminants are left behind.​

​

"Once the survey team from the recharge zone reports back we'll have a better idea of just how much cleaning we'll need to do," explained Vega who approached the edge of the Connector. It was quite long, several hundred meters easily and the width wasn't as much but certainly one needed to make use of a bridge to get across. There was only one and it didn't seem as if it would hold up well enough, and thusly Vega waited until engineers made reinforcements for the bridge before ordering anyone across it. "Okay teams, careful, let's focus on the smaller pieces of debris on the first layer and we'll work our way down."​

​

A drone was deployed overhead to scan through the muck and give an analysis of just how many thick layers it would take. Layers were measured with density in mind, thankfully the Amargosas were quite lazy in their efforts. Three layers, roughly fifteen meters thick per layer. The Force Users wouldn't be working alone, larger drones were deployed overhead. They would utilize varying strengths of magnetism to pull up debris and junk.​

​

"Alright everyone, trucks are here."​

​

Large track-based vehicles approached with enormous containers waiting to be filled. ​

​

"Three, two - one, go, go, go."​

​

That was the signal given and the drones operators began to utilize their machines just as the Force Users got to work. ​

​

Vhondryl took a step back and watched in awe of what she was seeing before her. To see so many people working together and come up with a solution that would benefit the people here. Made Vhondryl wonder about her future with the First Order, she certainly wanted to take part in these efforts but now wondered which approach would be best.​

​

Firenne Van-Derveld | Nylea Apollodor | Ariadne Gallaer ​

 

[Delilah Graham]

Delilah resumed her seat and swiveled it to face Shepard, appraising her for a moment before gesturing to a small shelf built into the bulkhead to her left and Sybil's right. It was populated by plastic bottles, some plain water, others infused with flavorings and energy supplements or electrolytes. The Navy stewards kept bringing them, but Delilah couldn't drink through them fast enough, so she feared they would start gathering dust. "Help yourself to a beverage if you like. In space it's important to stay hydrated."

She settled back into her seat and crossed her legs under the desk. "This meeting isn't about your performance, Shepard, which as far as I am aware has been perfectly serviceable. What I wanted to see you about is -- well, it's complicated," she interjected. "You were the Director of the Security Bureau... before," Delilah said delicately. "I gather you had some trouble making your way back into the fold and I don't think you were ever properly debriefed. That will need to happen."

Delilah rested her elbows on the armrests of the chair and looked across the desk at Shepard. "The Security Bureau is gone, as far as anyone knows, but we'll be reorganizing into different Military Intelligence sections. Some of these sections have leadership teams in place now, but I could use someone of your skill and history with the security apparatus would be useful, if we can be sure you are no worse for wear from your ordeal." She folded her hands and peered at Shepard.

"Thoughts?"

The Major​

 

[The Major]

Delilah Graham
​

Shepard did her best to nod appreciatively at the proffered beverage while maintaining an air of professionalism. Picking a bottle meant to hold water enhanced with electrolytes, she supped quietly upon the contents while listening carefully to Madam Graham; refreshment couldn’t have come at a more opportune moment. It was clear that the former Director was as anxious as a freshly recruited agent from her stiff, pressed body posture -leaning more closely on the edge of her seat as to not afford too far a measure of self comfort. The glory days of hand waving flourishes, sycophantic moxie and disarming, brain crunching smiles were far beyond her spycraft. These days Sybil was more pleased with basic comprehension when another person spoke; a simple workman’s toolkit to be sure, yet still a woefully underutilized skill in the galaxy.

Here was such a test. ​

“Thank you,” Responded the Agent in direct reply to Delilah’s appraisal -serviceable was the exact pocket she wished to be in. “As for. . . what is complicated -history, we’ll say- to know loss one must know what has been lost.” Okay, a tiny theatrical flourish then. She had been voraciously reading philosophy texts and metaphysical studies, finding the conflicting arguments to be pleasing in her plight. Effectively, Shepard had no real emotional connection to her past life or the positions of privilege offered within, abstract and convoluted as it was. This was good. The First Order had to survive, and it would be easier if those willing to partake in the new order fit into the machine rather than grinded against the current.

“Any trouble I have experienced is only a matter of temporary confusion and eventual ‘reorganizing,’” to borrow Graham’s word choice, “And I am grateful that the Order has been so helpful in rehabilitating both myself and the many others that have been injured during the Sacking.” She uttered the word ‘rehabilitating’ with a certain texture. Namely, that she was acutely aware that the process was still undergoing, and that she was aware that she was missing much more than she currently had on hand. Not to mention there were still many people from that era who loyally served but now were crushed by all manner of psychological and physical trauma -each journey unique, and some more doomed than others. Such would be impossible for Sybil to get across quickly. Delilah could determine what was important to press upon or ignore.

“So… I am happy to serve in any capacity that is deemed useful. Any testing or debriefing required can only be a good thing considering my circumstances.” Shepard went over that in her head. Did she miss something? Speak too strangely? Best to drink a little more.

 

[Ariadne Gallaer]

Eventually the truck slowed and then eased to a halt. Ariadne unlatched the tailgate and hopped down, Chunk following and leaping onto her shoulder lightly. She joined with the others, unloading the survey tools and bringing them to the shallow basin nearby. "Looks like a dried up lake," said Ariadne to one of her colleagues. If there had been water on the surface here, it had been gone and dried up for ages now. Ariadne calibrated the survey scanner and set it at the lowest point of the basin.

The machine did its work and came back with a green reading. Ariadne checked the readout. "Water about... thirty meters down," she said, holding out the datapad to her colleagues for concurrence. When they had agreed, they set about setting up the drill that would create the well. It would take some time to dig down through the hard layers of the planet. They had to be careful; they only had one spare drill bit, so they couldn't risk going too quickly and burning out the drill or melting the bit.

Ariadne sat criss-cross-applesauce on the dirt and monitored the progress of the drill.

 

[Delilah Graham]

Delilah studied the subject before her, hazel eyes probing but impassive. She wasn't judging, exactly. Her aim was not to determine whether Shepard was good or bad, healthy or unhealthy, stable or unstable. This was more of an appraisal; the question was whether Shepard would be be useful or not useful to the aims of the First Order. From her conversation with the Supreme Leader, she gathered that what Shepard needed was purpose, import, and authority. Perhaps the former Bureau Director didn't realize this about her former self, or perhaps she had changed.

Or perhaps she was lying. Trying to get on Delilah's good side.

"You don't have ambitions for leadership?" Delilah asked, opening her desk drawer. She withdrew a thick folder and set it on her desk. It was stamped with EYES ONLY - PERSONNEL and sealed along the edges. Delilah pressed her fingerprint to the sensor and then unwound the seal. "No interest in reclaiming your past position or its equivalent in whatever new order we are creating?"

The Home Secretary finished unwinding the seal and flipped the file open. A still image of The Major glowered up at her from the top page of the dossier. Delilah rested her elbow on the desk and planted her chin on the palm of her hand, fixing Shepard with an incisive gaze.

 

[Elisea Apollodor]

Elisea complied the data that the survey teams were sending. Cataloging and filing it all into neat segments of lines, data that could be used in future efforts both here on Absit and elsewhere. Absit was starting to show a lot of promise not just in minerals, but it had potential to become another bread basket. They hadn't even fully explored the planet so there could very well be more benefits to annexing the world. In return of course the First Order would do its utmost to protect the planet from harm and maintain its integrity. A lot of what was being sent would also be put into a report to send to the Foreign Office.​

​

It would detail what all Absit would need and what the First Order could expect in return. ​

​

The Avalonian sat in the back of a pickup beside Eastwood's granary. Equipment surrounded the woman as she worked diligently on a mobile console. A large antennae wasn't too far from the truck and it was responsible for aiding Elisea in her work. It was also how she managed to hear chatter over comms, it sounded like Dr. Vega had a plan of action and that they were going to be able to resolve Eastwood's water problem soon.​

​

The town of Eastwood had tents set up around the outskirts as the First Order's medical personnel saw to it that each resident got what they needed and were given more than sufficient supplies to get through the next few days while they worked on the problem. More chatter on the comms told her that the town of Walker was also getting help. Elisea smiled feeling better that those who had been responsible for exploiting the planet would have to answer for their crimes, and would no longer be in charge of the planet itself.​

​

​

 

[The Major]

Delilah Graham​

Ambitions?

Who? ​

Me? ​

It was all Sybil could do to keep herself from pantomiming with her fingers at imaginary people in the room before jabbing a thumb at her own throat. A few high intensity operations had helped steel most overreactions -at least she hoped; so while she didn’t start stuttering or sweating over Delilah’s latest question, Sybil wasn’t exactly playing with a Sabacc face. Her eyebrows tensed and squeezed together in momentary concern.

“No. . .” The Agent said aloud, but she wanted to follow up with a different question.

. . .but should I be? ​

She had to pause for a moment and consider what exactly was propelling her forward. What compelled her to have skin in this game and risk her sown together skull in places where normal troopers were getting chewed up to bits.

Was it to repay her debt to the First Order? No one had shown her a medical bill as of yet, and if truth be told Sybil would probably be pretty effective for a neuroscientist or psychologist’s experiments into repairing a brain. She could even coast the rest of her life along with some other fried heads in some clinic on a beach, answering questions and taking cocktails of the latest medical drugs. Not too shabby for a recuperating war criminal.

Perhaps it was to assist Agent Dash or Agent Nakano on their own lifepaths. Both had survived the worst of times and kept going. They weren’t good people in a traditional sense, seemingly valuing their work over all else and as foul mouthed they could be. Plus, they treated her like another operative of a team and didn’t pull their punches. It made them quite likable, and Sybil most assuredly liked them quite a bit. Where would that leave her. Watching them move on to another more grandiose assignment or witnessing them terminate once they caught that lucky blast?

Maybe it was in honor of the Supreme Leader, tender and patient as she was in that one alcove in Rosewood Castle. Someone carrying the weight of an Empire, someone so nuanced in approach and intent, had to deserve some loyalty -if not in the very least respect.

“. . . unless leadership in some form will benefit the Order and Her Majesty.” She wished there was an answer that came across as more profound. Perhaps one would formulate for her eventually.

Shepard was suddenly stuck by two notions: one, her reasons for action were a bit shallow and rather simple -verging on sappy; two, and more importantly, so what. What invisible hand determined her purpose through the cold watches of the night. A legacy, maybe? Debt to self, supposedly?

Then it was there.
Upside down, glaring intently.
Eyes malicious, half obscured by lenses,
glowing blue.
It was going to look.
It was going to see her
and speak. . .​

The Agent felt a ball of lead starting to pull inward inside her chest, so she moved her bottle of water from one hand to the other, using the neck and label to obscure a line of sight to the image of that face on the file. Oh, her contacts were itching again.

 

[Delilah Graham]

Sybil Shepard was an onion.

An artichoke.

Perhaps a cake.

Layers and layers. The more you peeled back, the more you found. Nutritionally dense, too, probably, but that was taking the metaphor a step too far. Delilah was used to people willing to take a bullet for Queen and country, but duty and ambition weren't mutually exclusive. She remembered, vaguely, the only other time she'd met Shepard. In the immediate aftermath of the sacking of Dosuun, they'd crossed paths on Pa'Desh, in Robogeber 's fiefdom of the Old Fort. It seemed like a lifetime ago, now, ten lifetimes. Delilah had gotten the distinct impression then that Shepard thought she was gunning for her job.

She'd been right, after a fashion. It wasn't personal. She thought Shepard was a competent professional, but she'd been gone. Someone had to pick up the pieces. Decisions were made by people who showed up, and luckily for all of them Shepard had shown up right before the launch of the operation to secure the resource caches that were set up as a part of the plan she, Shepard herself, had implemented as part of an abortive (as far as Delilah knew) scheme called Aeternum.

Now the roles were reversed, in a way. Graham was Home Secretary with the First Order's entire intelligence apparatus under her thumb. Shepard... with her history with the old guard, the former Grand Moff turned Supreme Leader -- well, it was difficult to see exactly where this would end up. Delilah didn't mention the file open in front of her. She glanced at it briefly, but otherwise did not acknowledge its existence, though she watched for Shepard's reaction. Curious.

"How did you come to be Director? Then, I mean," she clarified, jerking her head to the left in a serviceable shorthand for 'the past'. "King and country, or...? No wrong answers, Shepard. Just a friendly chat."

The Major​

 

[Ariadne Gallaer]

The drill bit did its work. Ariadne watched.

And waited.

And sweated.

She frowned thoughtfully. How did people live here? It was so hot and dry. She found herself constantly reaching for her water bottle, even after the one Vega gave her was almost warm. Her throat crackled, chaffing under the conditions, and her skin felt hot. She glanced back towards the town, feeling a pang of pity. It felt strange for a member of a threatened species, whose homeworld had been ravaged by monsters and whose people were all but extinct, to feel pity for others who had a hard life. At least they had a life. A space of their own.

Ariadne, on the other hand, felt adrift. She had a home -- sort of -- in the form of a bunk on whatever FOCIE or First Imperial ship she was assigned to at any given time. A locker to store her belongings. She had a sister that she saw less frequently than she'd like, but both understood the importance of their work. They were not raised to be takers, to rely on the charity of others, and in the event that they had to -- as they did now -- their responsibility was to limit the burden. They earned their keep, sang for their suppers -- but not literally, for which Ariadne and anyone who had heard her sing was immensely grateful.

The datapad chirped, drawing Ariadne out of her thoughtful reflection. "Almost there," she shouted to her colleagues. "Get ready to pull back the drill and drop in the pump!"

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Tag: Phoenix Edorath | Resurgent Narrative
​

Kurayami sat astride his 74-Z speeder bike and was searching for a quick means of finding possible locations of the mines. There did seem to be some activity near a couple of smaller settlements. It wouldn't have been overly surprising if the ARC or whatever the name of the company was, he hadn't paid much attention, had been utilizing some sort of settlement as a means to cover up illegal operations of some sort. Either way there did seem to be a shortcut through some place called Zion Canyon. Might not be a bad idea and it would at least cut down on travel time.

As he was plotting his route, he was rudely interrupted by a tapping sound on his helmet and he finally took note of an all too familiar Force presence. Mentally he chided himself for losing situational awareness in such a remote place. "Ah, Phoenix. Been a bit since I've seen you around. At least I think it has been. Well whatever. What brings you out to this godforasken dustball of a planet?" I WAS here just for the tequila at first. While getting a drink, heard a couple guys discussing some weird stuff about people disappearing, mining operations, and some family, Amargusta or something along those lines. Maybe we can catch up on a drink after this all settles down."

In his mind the offer was literal, no intended subtext, but however she took it he wasn't going to argue. "If you are coming, then you are going to need your own ride. I hadn't planned on a long stay so all I got is this speeder bike. I mean two can fit on it, but it would be a bit tight." Again, the words were meant literally, you could fit two people on a 74-Z but it was a bit of close quarters to do so. Whether she chose close quarters travel or to take her own means of getting there was entirely up to her, besides he still had to finish plotting the course to get there.

 

[Amun]

T H E _ G O O D​

Quite a show that particular woman was giving. Lots of patrons gathered around to hear whatever stories she was giving to the people. In a bar like this there was an abundance of smugglers, mercenaries, and other outlaws coexisting with a drink or two. As calm the atmosphere was, its mood can change in a snap if one were to do something irritable. Crude men in these kinds of establishments lacked in compassion and mercy.

Dime a dozen they were.

The stories were something about smuggling. There was never a lack of those stories, and there was tons of smuggling operations on this side of the Galaxy and the lawless Outer Rim. His employers were always hiring smugglers to do their dirty work. The Kyuzo speculated this woman was new around town, or else why would she bring up these stories now and get everyone hyped around her?

Or maybe everyone was drunk from the booze and liquor. Simple presumptions from a bounty hunter.

And then someone approached Starwind, keeping in a bit close as if to whisper something for only them to know about. Whatever it was, he’d react once Starwind made her move. Either stay and keep an eye out, or stalk like a predator.

Resurgent Narrative | Raava Starwind​

 

[The Major]

Shepard paused at Graham’s comments, for she was brushing up against similar topics that had served as a type of stumbling block in most of the former Director’s conversations. There was a tiny measure of humiliation involved in explaining it, and a smooth transition into such an explanation had yet to be developed. What was important at the moment was to not cock up this moment or offend someone inadvertently. Sybil made a mental note to prepare a set of documents and examination reports from her doctors so that they could be accessed and cross referenced by the people who needed to know.

Nevertheless an attempt had to be made.

“I am sorry, Ma’am. I can’t remember anything before -roughly- three years ago. It’s a result of complications sustained during an incident. I believe that my. . . disability has directly inhibited my ability to properly report, debrief, and be redeployed for service. I apologize profusely. The prognosis has been positive, however, especially since I’ve started working again.” This explanation wasn’t mechanical in delivery but Shepard knew that it wasn’t anything any important person needed to bother hearing. She hated to bore people with her troubles. For now.

“I won’t melt or go brain dead on you during an operation. Even if I take a hit to the head. Hah.” Said the former shell of the Major, attempting to joke. A droid might as well have told it.

“Let’s not test it though, please.” She waved her fingers, pretending to prepare a block from an invisible fist coming at her face. Her eyes sparkled, equal parts jovial yet depressingly sad.

Delilah Graham​

 

[Delilah Graham]

Inscrutable. Or transparent.

Delilah couldn't decide which Sybil Shepard was. She remained silent, looking across at the woman with great interest and intensity before she closed the file and pushed it across the desk to the young woman. "If you're interested or think it would help you to be aware of your service record prior to the Fall of Dosuun, I've authorized a temporary clearance bump so that you can review it. It's the best we could cobble together from the continuity of government programs that were meant to prevent loss of critical data in the event of -- "

She paused, a sardonic look on her face. " -- well, an apocalypse of the magnitude of the Ssi-Ruuk's return. Your design, if I'm not much mistaken." She gestured with her hand for The Major to take the file. "I'm afraid you can't leave the room with it, but you may peruse it at your leisure. And then we can discuss next steps. Let me know when you're ready."

She glanced back at her computer screen. No update from Lotus and Crane. She pinged Val Pellian and Isobel Nakano's channel, displaying a silent alert on their datapads. Had something gone wrong? The First Order was not in a position to extract them at this point, so she hoped they were only radio silent and not in some kind of trouble.