Imperial Machinations

[Helwan]

Galactic Imperial Space
Outer Orbit of Kamino

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The Imperial IV Class Star Destroyer Black Omega, peered from the shadow of Imperial Center World Kamino. The long imperial star destroyer made its way to a pre-hyperspace stationary astrodocking zone. There smaller servicing ships stretched out their connection bay docks to connect with the servicing shafts extending from the side hulls of the star destroyer.

Aboard the bridge, gazing at the proceedings was Imperial Special Agent Bshivih'helwan'nuruodo - also known as Helwan by her Imperial Profession Name. She was tale and azure, but, with a paler complexion due to her being half Chiss by her human mother. She wore a red imperial tunic beneath a large brown overcoat. In her hands she tapped a closed fan against the open palm of the other. As per her powers the ship was requisitioned to her direct command as her mobile operating base. The Empire as new and was dwarfed by the First Order and the Galactic Alliance - thus the ISB had given certain Naval Intelligence Special Agents the powers to takes star destroyers as their own for far flung operations.

However, on this day, Helwan had the Black Omega return to Imperial Center to prepare for resupply and as well to greet an old friend who had come upon a new position within the Empire. [member="Tobias Schmitt"] had been an old friend during her days as a cadet in the Imperial Academy, but, now he was Moff Tobias Schmitt. A cruel thin smile stretched across her blue lips.

What interesting places you have found yourself Tobias.

Her musings were interrupted by the star destroyer's commander, Captain Tyvn Vesh. He was a lean, slender, and grim looking man with a permanently fixed military stare. His left eye had been replaced with an empty socket covered by a eye-patch.

"Madam Helwan" his soft and sharp voice called out, continuing, "...we are prepped for resupply. I have informed Lieutenant [member="Fabian"] to inform his Commander that we will rendezvous with the vessel in hour's time."

Helwan rolled her eyes to watch Tyvn. She nodded and smacked her fan into her other palm one final time. "Excellent Captain. I shall deal with requisition of that vessel for our upcoming operation soon." said Helwan before turning about to march down the central isle of the bridge, towering over the bridge crew in their navigation, and sensor-comms pits. As she walked away she waved for Tyvn to continue his duties, saying, "Inform Moff Tobias Schmitt, that I will host him in my quarters when he arrives to the Omega."

"At once, Madam Helwan." Tyvn said before frowning and wandering off to continue the oversight of the Black Omega's functions.

 

[Vilhelm Balfour]

Moff Balfour sat at his desk at his Kamino Office. A cigarra kept close to his fingers, a light trail of smoke tracing the movements of his hand. His post was new, and the office he took needed some attention. Social conduct for Moffs was tricky, with limits to how one could arrange things. As ambitious as the Moffs were, everything was "For the glory of the Empire." Still, some personal touches were allowable, ways to strut your stuff while showing the Empire's might as it were.

Blip Blip

The sound of a page echoed through the room. Wilhelm sighed. It seemed he couldn't even get his office acquainted without being paged. Such was the curse of competency. Wilhelm pressed a button on his wrist datapad and allowed the message through.

"Sir, there is a message for you from a Special Agent [member="Helwan"] requesting your audience on the Black Omega." The voice of Linna, his secretary came through the room. Helwan. He hadn't seen or heard from that chiss woman since his days in the Academy. Before the Galactic Empire was really a thing truth be told. What did she need now?

"Inform Special Agent Helwan that I have some preparations to make, but I will contact her when I have a proper time frame for arrival." He said, not willing to jump in just yet. "Furthermore, page DeeTee-Sixteen-Double-Oh([member="Anjin Kent"]) to my office at once." Wilhelm took another puff from his cigarra. Things were about to get very interesting.

 

[Anjin Kent]

It was Zeta Squadron’s distinct privilege to be at Moff Balfour’s service and action.

Anjin reminded himself of the fact. Z-Twelve and Z-Thirteen, squadron mates and rifleman both, swept up the connecting passage away with him, attending his flanks. He’d allowed the remainder of Zeta to prep kit and ready for possible assignment. Moff’s did not summon lightly and never idly. The DTPS-B casement, their signature black-on-black armour wear, had been readied with fine polishing and light modification to ensure a slightly wider range of hip movement. Anjin cycled out through HUD pop-ups, briefly catching snippets of recorded conversation three modules over. Ambient temperatures were nominal, or ‘comfortable’. A brief calendar check marked their seventeenth day on station at Tipoca City.

In that time, Zeta Squadron had been exactingly drilled. Live fire exercises, urban combat scenarios, simulated terrain ascension, close-quarters armour-on-armour fighting, and ‘recreational’ flying. They had requisitioned, through Moff Balfour’s generous, two sets of training TIE’s from Imperial Navy. ‘Improbably action program’, Anjin explained. When and where Zeta Squad is required to enact a zero-gravity or atmospheric pursuit, without the benefit of shuttle transport, I want us familiarized with a likely transportation mode, he thought. Ordinarily, the Death Troop Command wasn’t required, expected, or very much allowed to dabble in flight systems. But every day could prove to be extraordinary, Anjin justified. Zeta One would not be found wanting. He outright refused the possibility.

Moff Balfour’s offices were kept in a carefully partitioned module separate from Tipoca’s Kaminoan composition. The architecture was austere, framed in traditional imperial brutalism. Gunmetal decking, shielded power conduit lines and boxed redistribution nodes, a subtle geometric cut to the floor and wall panelling, emphasizing sharp lines and efficient negative space. A security checkpoint hailed them through, into the Moff’s private sanctum. Secretary Linna sat behind an armoured square-booth, tidying her work space. She shied from direct eye-contact with any of the DT squadron, pulling her officer’s cap over her brow. Anjin’s goggle-HUD acquired her briefly, targeting crosshairs tongue-switched off.

“Moff Balfour will see you now,” Linna said, with a practised purr. She toggled a door control plate. The interior to the Moff’s personal office sighed open.

Anjin allowed a slight, cursory nod, then walked on. “Hold here,” He commanded over the link.

Zeta’s Twelve and Thirteen chirped acknowledgement and took station opposite each other on the door-lock jamb, cradling E-11D’s into ready grips.

“Sir.” DT-1600 Anjin ‘Pilot’ Kent saluted crisply. The helmet speaker gargled his tones into a grille-snarl. He noted the seated commander: young still, impeccably groomed, with an appreciation for a more vintage line of hair style, hands well manicured save for notable callouses under the fingertips, an effected bourgeois mannerism and countenance. His face was stuck in a severe expression of contemplation. Like the Moff was ever calculating, setting stratagems to stratagems. The privilege of high command, Anjin thought, just as well. “You requested Zeta Squadron, sir.”

[member="Tobias Schmitt"]

 

[Vilhelm Balfour]

It did not take long for DT-1600 to get to his office. His wrist datapad and some simple arithmetic showed Balfour he took around a minute and 20 seconds or so. Wilhelm wondered how quick he'd be if there was emergency. Could probably cut the time in half. Good, but would it be good enough in every situation? Wilhelm made a note to get to the range at least once a week. He could only do so much with a sidearm and limited training, but he wagered if he could buy himself twenty seconds or more that the Zeta Squad would be able to handle the rest.

"Yes Lieutenant. I" The word hung a moment. "have been invited for a meeting with an old classmate of mine. Special Agent Helwan, a chiss woman with the Security Bureau. Linna should be preparing a file for you of what files I can divulge. I haven't met or spoken with her in years. Seems awful convenient a meeting come up after I'm appointed Moff doesn't it? I'm sure you understand my misgivings about the invitation." Balfour took another puff of his cigarra, before pushing it unto the ashtray on his desk.

"I'll need you and three of your squad, security and reconnaissance. I can see a lot lieutenant, but I need to see everything. We will need whoever you trust most, whoever has the best eyes. The invitation will be on a Star Destroyer she'll be commanding by proxy. How soon can you be ready?" Wilhelm asked [member="Anjin Kent"]. He didn't like this meeting, but one could not play the game without taking risks.

 

[Anjin Kent]

The Security Bureau was the Empire’s invisible hand; fingers extended unseen across the Galactic East, subtly guiding policy, the Moff Council, Grand Moff, and the distant Emperor himself dependent on their shrewdness and private counsels. They had settled on a precarious balancing act of gathering external intelligence through a webbed network that, supposedly, infiltrated virtually every major political presence. Simultaneously exacting a strenuous internal review of any caustic elements that threatened the Empire’s stability from within. The Death Troop Command answered to the Bureau’s authority, in conjunction with certain branches of naval and army oversight. Anjin felt a cool pressure tease up his spine; Zeta-1 was tasked with buffering aside potential friction resulting from conflict Bureau and Moff agenda.

“Shortly: in ten minutes, sir,” DT-1600 replied. “Otherwise, whenever you’re prepared, sir. We’ll be on-deck to escort and provide comprehensive security. Unobtrusively, sir.”

[member="Tobias Schmitt"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

“Rendezvous?” Fabian stared at the commsop, who couldn’t have been over 20.

“Yes, Lieutenant. Bureau business?”

“Yes,” Fabian said sullenly, turning to look out the bridge of the small frigate at the field of twinkling black. “Yes, of course. Very well. Prepare a shuttle.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and waited for the star destoyer’s silhouette to appear, lunging out of hyperspace like the Lok’tek of lore. Well, perhaps not of lore if the leaked mission report from Atrisia proved true and not mere Alliance fear mongering. What a horrid thought.

 

[Vilhelm Balfour]

"Excellent." Moff Balfour replied, before tapping a button on his wrist-datapad. "Linna, alert Special Agent [member="Helwan"] that we'll be meeting her within the hour."

"At once sir." Linna replied, and Wilhelm closed the line.

"We should make it if we leave in twelve. Dismissed Lieutenant." Wilhlem dismissed [member="Anjin Kent"] and began his own preparations. Looking through old notes and remembering time back at the academy. Taking glances at Helwan's file. Even with his access there were certain portions which were redacted. An annoyance to be sure, but perhaps a show that this meeting held promise. Or danger. Who knew what game the ISB was really playing?

In time Wilhelm would meet back up with DT-1600 and his chosen guard, who would escort him to his shuttle. It was time to see what the ISB wanted.

 

[Helwan]

[member="Tobias Schmitt"] [member="Fabian"] [member="Anjin Kent"]


In her private quarters, Helwan sat in large command chair resting back into the cushions she watched holographic data scroll by in front of her. The data was encapsulated in a computer window glowing in bright yellows and greens. The information it displayed detailed current Huttese crime organisations and their relative political influences. She read about operations between the Compact and other rival outfits. One name in particular had caught her attention, [member="Gorba the Hutt"]. The Hutt had risen quickly in Nar Shadda and boasted an impressive network of mercenaries and smugglers.

With the Empire's expansion imminent the ISB were interested in the state of the multi-system organisations that spread across Hutt Space and into the Core. But, for Helwan, such unsavoury networks provide interesting avenues of exploitation and employment. In fact, Hutt Space was the destination her SD was prepping for. Of course, she wouldn't be flying an Imperial Naval vessel into Hutt Space, no, such methods were - too overt. The black omega would only provide an extraction point if negotiations went sour.

Suddenly, a voice bleeped into existence.

"Madam Commander, Moff Balfour has arrived." said the bridge staffer.

Helwan stood up and waved away the floating data. Her private quarter's light dimmers subsided and the room was filled with light revealing one long steel grey table that extended from her command chair.

"Very good Lieutenant. Send him in." said Helwan, then dismissing the hologram.

Now it was time for the next little scheme she had.

 

[Vilhelm Balfour]

Moff Balfour arrived onboard the Black Omega. [member="Anjin Kent"] and his escort was at his side. He passed another outsider. His observations of the ship were a slight bit longer than an officer usually stationed on a craft, but he hid it well. Truth be told it was more apparent in the rest of the crew that they did not recognize him.

"Evening Lieutenant." Balfour spoke to [member="Fabian"]. "Beginning reassignment, or summoned for a briefing?" He asked, as he awaited [member="Helwan"]'s messenger. While he was here he might as well analyze the prospective talent. Files could tell you the who's who of upper officers, but it took a personal touch to find potential young up and comers. And if often paid in spades if one made a good bet.

[member="Fabian"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

The uneventful shuttle ride proved a bore, but upon disembarking the sight of the system moff escorted by several black-armored death troopers greeted Fabian's eyes. Perspective altered and interest piqued, the unaccompanied lieutenant strolled down the gangplank and onto the deck of the Black Omega.

He snapped off a salute to the moff.

"Good evening. Summoned, Moff Balfour," he said in an accent as crisp as his uniform. Almost Coruscanti, but not quite. Core Worlders always could pick a Corporate Sector native out from the rest. Shiftless wights.

The Lieutenant fell in stride with the Moff as they moved toward the turboshafts.

"And you?"

Green eyes slid sidelong, catching another glimpse of expressionless black helm.

[member="Helwan"] | [member="Tobias Schmitt"] | [member="Anjin Kent"]

 

[Anjin Kent]

DT-1600 blinked a wordless prompt over the squad HUD-link. Seamlessly, automatically, a pair of Death Troopers detached from around Moff Balfour’s flanks and assumed positions beside Lieutenant Fabian. Anjin logged his face, tracking onto the collar IDENTS sutured underneath his command band. The arch expression, hard cheekbones benefiting from selective marital arrangements, cool, unbothered green eyes not unlike the emerald kelp Anjin recalled swimming through as a child. He thought he and Moff Balfour made a visual match, a keen example of Imperial Naval dignity.

Prior to docking, Zeta Lead had contacted the Black Omega command staff, and ordered a systems link. Now, through a snap pupil gesture or a quick dip with his tongue, his heads-up-display could relay individual decking plans, power distribution, interior defences, anti-boarding measures, what he deemed pertinent to ensuring Moff Balfour and now Lieutenant Fabian’s absolute safety. They passed through a corridor junction he believed could be a convenient bottle-neck, noting a secondary supply closet they could breach through, into the next deck-level module and escape along another passageway. There, a ray-shield emitter, to entrap or grant protection long enough to cut into the flooring. And he’d already marked the swiftest route to back to the docking umbilical. Barring that, a quick diversion toward mid-ship hanger bays.

He did not concern with the Special Agent’s agenda. ISB was inscrutable. The DTC existed, in its current state, to carry out their secretive missions. And Zeta-1, Anjin knew, will be their premier example. He relished the tactical challenge.

[member="Tobias Schmitt"] | [member="Fabian"] | [member="Helwan"]

 

[Vilhelm Balfour]

The naval lieutenant was cool, calm, and collected in a way that betrayed his rank. Balfour could easily recognize the signs of privilege. Not nobility, wasn't quite haughty enough. Business then. Coporate wealth, Coruscanti accent but not "perfect." Corporate Sector perhaps? Balfour tried to remember his fellow academy graduates. One of them was familiar in tone. Where was he from?

"Briefing with the Security Bureau. They have me at a bit of a disadvantage though. Wasn't informed of all the members." Balfour replied to [member="Fabian"] as [member="Anjin Kent"]'s men began to cover him in a wordless formation change. Privilege came with privilege, or so they said.

"That accent, not quite Coruscanti but close. Corporate Sector?" Balfour asked. If Fabian was familiar with the tone he'd recognize that Balfour had a near-core accent as well, from his homeworld of Bastion. His likely took a bit more work however, not to say Balfour hadn't mastered the tone.

They'd find themselves at [member="Helwan"] quarters soon enough, but every moment until then was an opportunity to judge the young Lieutenant. Perhaps it would be a wash, but so long as the time was available it was not a waste.

 

[Helwan]

[member="Tobias Schmitt"] [member="Anjin Kent"] [member="Fabian"]

The doors to Helwan's quarters separated. Helwan sat awaiting them. She was seated behind a long black steel conference table with an embedded touch monitor with holo-projector in the center. Helwan rose from her seat and waved the naval staff away before marching to Moff Balfour and greeting him with a grin.

"How long has it been?" Helwan said. "Ah, but, now I must address you as Moff Balfour hmm?"

When she looked to the arrival of Lieutenant Fabian and DT, her smile decayed into a thin grim professional glance. Her tone deformed into a monotone addressing.

​"Lieutenant Fabian is it?" Helwan said with a curt nod. "I appreciate you express arrival."

She gestured for all of them to sit. She herself returned to the head of the table. As she rested into her seat she reclined and clasped her fingers together then dropped them together in her lap. She first looked to her childhood friend Moff Balfour.

"So, tell me, Moff."

"What are your current orders?"

 

[Marcus Tritum]

"You've an excellent ear," Fabian replied, hiding the discomfit at having two Death Troopers flank him. Only fool might think they did so only to protect him. Funny thing, that. Guarding one's back most always left one in the position to stab it too.

They arrived in tandem. Fabian took his seat and merely nodded his head once at Helwan's words.

Best to keep one's mouth shut during bureau meetings. The smallest fish tended to get eaten first. Looking around, Fabian saw no smaller fish than himself.

[member="Helwan"] | [member="Vilhelm Balfour"] | [member="Anjin Kent"]

 

[Vilhelm Balfour]

Moff Balfour entered the room and allowed [member="Anjin Kent"] and his squad to survey the room before making any moves. It took a moment, but they signaled the clear, so Balfour took a seat. He doubted they would have been able to clear the room of all bugs, microdroid listeners, and the like without a thorough sweep and some powerful EMP weapons, but he was convinced basic security needs were taken care of. Some of being a Moff was military organization, but at some point he had to play the politician, and learn to speak in tongues.

"I am too govern the people of the Moonus Mandel sector while organizing all military activity in the sector, notably including the maintenance and development of the Imperial Academies. Furthermore I am expected to serve as a de facto admiral to defend my sector or advance the expansion of the Empire, if called by the Emperor or the Grand Moff." Balfour put up a rather textbook definition and general set of orders. He then drew a metallic case out of his pocket, opened it, and then pulled out a cigarra.

"The finer details of which I'm sure you have clearance for and have already surveyed." Balfour said before lighting the cigarra and bringing it to his mouth. "What are you fishing for Special Agent?" Balfour challenged @Helwan. He considered for a moment offering [member="Fabian"] a cigarra, but he didn't seem the type to take it while on duty.