Private IXION_WAKES:// Hacks

[IVI]

THE DIRECTOR IN THE ERA OF RECLAMATION
CORUSCANT | SIA HQ | LOCATION CONFIDENTIAL
Hacks

The after-action report submitted by The New Jedi Order's Kyell Laysel and Miri Nimdok was comprehensive. It was frustrating, however, that it was The Jedi who ultimately made it possible for the renegade slicer, and founder of Darkwire, to end up imprisoned by The Alliance.

Deciding where to place the elusive code maestro had been a brief discussion amongst M's senior agents. At first, they'd thought the bodiless bionic would do just fine sitting in a low-tech facility. Isolated. Belatedly, however, they'd reasoned that this was the mastermind who'd broken through The Senate's firewalls and haughtily broadcast themselves for all to see. If anyone were to find gaps in their security, it would be this prisoner. Even if they were severely misrepresented and damaged.

Thusly, Hacks found themselves in the most restricted of cells. Clean, white lines and entirely soundless. No white noise from the ventilation system, soft whirring machines, or even anything that passed by the door. It was eerily tranquil.

Until the director's approaching steps echoed soft clicks down the hallway, and her blue silhouette positioned itself on the other side of the perfectly quiet energy door.

"Hello Hacks." M chose by way of greeting and offered a mirthless smile to the shape in the cell.

"You've had a bone to pick with The Alliance for a long time." There was a quiet hunger that growled beneath her chest, rumbling at the base of her ribs. Someone of Hacks' calibre would be an incredible asset to The Alliance's cyber defences.

It was a shame that history suggested such a union would be impossible. M would be a fool to give the contractor any access to anything restricted.

But that didn't mean she couldn't decode other mysteries.

"I'm eager to hear your side of Ilum. What brought you there, and how you ended up here."

 

[Hacks]

Hacks lay in her cot, her head propped up by a generous amount of pillows. Her cybernetic legs had turned to slag on Ilum, leaving her unable to walk, and with critical damage to her arms she could not do most things unassisted. An arm without a hand, a shoulder completely missing, she was a sorry sight to see. Her injuries would have killed ordinary humans, but Hacks' was barely human anymore.

When she heard the footsteps disturb her silence she craned her neck, metal crunched with the movement. She needed to see a mod-tech and have what parts of her that were left diagnosed, but she doubted the Alliance were going to get her in a fighting fit state. The footsteps grew louder and her eyes narrowed as a woman appeared on the other side of the energy screen.

"Hello Hacks," she said, a smile formed on her lips, "You've had a bone to pick with The Alliance for a long time. I'm eager to hear your side of Ilum. What brought you there, and how you ended up here." Silence followed her words as Hacks stared, her brow creased as she realized she had been called Hacks. The Alliance didn't know her name, or this woman was simply keeping her cards close to her chest.

"People pay me to pick bones," Hacks quipped, "Nothing personal," she lied. In the days following Ilum her hatred for the Jedi and the Alliance had grown, everything from here on out was entirely personal. She wanted revenge. Her face said it, not that she wasn't a good liar, it was her temper. Hacks never knew when to quit once her anger got the best of her.

"Someone paid me credits to be there, and the Jedi brought me here, that sounds 'bout right," she explained her story in short. She had no qualms about throwing Imperial confidentiality under the bus, she had thrown every friend and ally under the bus on her scramble to her next paycheck. "Do me a favour and I might tell you a few more details."

 

[IVI]

M's expression remained impassive through the prisoner's limited disclosure. The information was in short supply, only a test for rapport, but Hacks intentionally cut it off with a foray into a request.

The problem with mercenaries was the same as their benefit — they were predictably motivated by self-interest.

And, based on Hacks ' current physique, she had to have a lot of self-interest to survive. But survival was a primal need. Something organic that couldn't be purged from the most refined or polite societies. Did survival have a play here? How much of the rogue was even human anymore?

"Do you have one in mind?"

 

[Hacks]

The woman on the other side spoke with a smooth tone, one Hacks was increasingly wary of, "Do you have one in mind?" she asked. The slicer remained silent for a moment, weighing her options. Ask too much and it will be flatly declined, too little and she won't squeeze the most out of a potential opportunity.

"If you expect me to sit in my body your people destroyed, at least give me a gravity belt to let me move around the room," she countered, then before the agent could speak Hacks continued, her anger and annoyance boiling over, ever her short temper in the way, "About that, is that normal? Alliance Jedi going around burning people alive? I was just doing a job, last I checked slicing wasn't a war crime, but burning people alive?"

She held up her arms, the metal warped and sagged from intense heating and the rapid cooling that had occurred on Ilum, "I've spent a lifetime around the worst scum in the galaxy, and even they have higher standards. I'm in here rotting while the real criminals walk free."

 

[IVI]

M's hands found themselves clasped behind her back. There was a certain delight or satisfaction in witnessing the human aspects of the cybernetic. Impatience, at the foremost. Comparison. The need for basic mobility.

Her frown pulled deeper, taking an extra moment to emphasize that she was genuinely reviewing the prisoner's conditions. The video footage uploaded by Miri Nimdok had been somewhat shakily filmed, but in real life, it was clear that without any assistance, Hacks wasn't going anywhere. Even if she could potentially deconstruct the security of the cell from inside it.

“Basic medical support is offered to stabilize all prisoners of war.” M answered plainly.

“Diagnostics were run during your transfer, and our team is working on finding the proper parts for your…” she tilted her head and looked as though she were considering several outcomes all at once, sorting through a lexicon that matched the cybernetic’s unique composition: “Repairs.

Unless you have personal preferences or contacts that usually do touch-ups or upgrades for you? That could make things move much quicker.”

A thoughtful noise clicked at the back of M’s throat and glanced up at the ceiling, where a gravity belt might take the slicer. It was white, aurorial almost in its emptiness, and followed the same smooth, clean lines as the rest of the container.

She looked back to Hacks.

“The last time you checked must have been a significantly outdated document. Infiltration of restricted, confidential military communication is a crime.

Perhaps not as directly violent as what you suffered at the hands of the Jedi,” she made a face, something that bordered apologetic, “But still a crime, acceptable? because of a paycheque?

Was it a job, as well, when you chose to slice The Senate and Jedi Temple?”

 

[Hacks]

Hacks' frustration continued to boil over as M spoke, far more calm than she would have liked. Hacks had no interest in telling who her usual mod-techs were and remained silent at the offer, no need to paint a web of personal connections she had in the underworld, not yet at least.

"The last time you checked must have been a significantly outdated document. Infiltration of restricted, confidential military communication is a crime," M said, Hacks raised a malformed finger to her temple and tapped it twice, "Crime in civilian life, but not a war crime. You pay soldiers to commit mass murder on a frontline, not a hard concept to understand. Crimes in war become legal, but there's lines you shouldn't cross, and your people did."

It was entirely hypocritical of Hacks and she knew it, but the raging narcissist in her did not care. She had done worse, impacted countless lives by the consequences of her actions, but she mentally distanced those consequences and never thought of them again. She rolled her hand and returned it back to her side, "And the senate and temple? Yeah, just jobs. I don't care what you schmucks do, I just wanted to keep food in my fridge, what did it matter? the Alliance is no different than any other gang, just bigger and badder."

 

[IVI]

Emotions vented into the air recyclers churned around the invisible currents and left little resonance. The Jedi's treatment of the hacker was unapologetic and could count as some level of self-defence. Not particularly a conversation M was eager to engage in. Standing up for the Jedi, and protecting them, wasn't her priority.

Still, M made a face at Hacks . A discouraging expression that condemned the semantics of crime and a war crime.

"I'm surprised someone so immersed in the virtual world has such physical lines of right and wrong. Is it only things you see and feel that are judged as lines that have been crossed?

All of these jobs, just jobs of yours — have you considered the impacts? Ilum, an active warzone, delayed troops, miscoded signals, men and women depending on accurate information to stay alive, and you interrupted it. What do you think that means?

All of these just jobs," M repeated, "Seem pretty consistent selection against The Alliance. Do you have a consistent employer, or are some of these initiated and organized by yourself?

I'm curious about your perceptions of morality. Why are we bigger and badder than your previous employer, The Empire?"

 

[Hacks]

Hacks closed her eyes and gently tapped the back of her head against the wall, matching the beat of M's words. She ran a tongue across her teeth and frowned, what fists she had left clenched. She hated being powerless to react. She had spent so much of her time on the streets lashing out when she was angry, even so far as attacking friends. Whether the target was Johnny Diamonds or Daiya, no one she knew had avoided her short temper.

It didn't matter that the woman was spot on about Hacks, she only saw herself as a victim, she was never guilty of her crimes. It was the lack of control that was driving her over the edge with this woman, but there was no edge to go over, if she lost it she could do nothing. Her body was broken.

Hacks hiked a thumb to her chest, "Consistent employers? You're dreaming," she said, "People don't keep me around for long, they toss me aside once they're done with me." She never mentioned it was always her fault, burning bridges, knifing her friends in the back. She had completed a job for Gorba the Hutt and the next day facilitated a bounty on him, resulting in his capture. She had ran with Darkwire for years, but as quickly turned them in to the Corporate Authorities and attacked their safe houses. If I hurt them first, they can't hurt me, she thought.

"You going to tell me what you want? Or are you going to nitpick what I say?" she narrowed her tone.

 

[Auteme]

IVI Hacks ​

"Yeah, that's probably enough nits, isn't it, Director?"

Auteme smiled to the two, but was mostly searching for a reaction from M. Was it possible for such a woman to be surprised? Auteme had tried her best; her footsteps had been silent, her presence flattened to nothing, and her arrival utterly unannounced. Of course, in theory, Auteme was invited to everything in the Alliance government and all its branches. In practice, all she got were tidbits and scraps, a few names. Today, that was enough for her.

Her smile didn't dim as she looked down into the holding cell. Hacks was in a sorry state, what with lacking most limbs, but the potential was there. To an extent, Auteme's goals aligned with the Director's. A glance to the Chiss -- what a convenient arrival Auteme had. The soothing balm, to the Director's coarse grasp.

"May I come in?" she asked. "I've brought your, ah, temporary limbs." With a little tug she pulled a small hovering tray, on which laid a few replacement cybernetic limbs, all carefully constructed by the SIA's engineers -- with a bit of haste, once Auteme had arrived at their office herself.

 

[IVI]

M's smile sharpened, and her eyes cleaned each time the Darkwire founder exhibited emotion. It was visceral, and the more exposed she became, the more raw she was, the more vulnerable she'd become. It was a game of patience. A delicate game, to be sure. Patience could be a shoestring, or an infinite spool. Somewhere in the middle was were progress was made.

Her exploration of how much patience was shared between prisoner and captor was truncated by the intrusion of the Jedi Knight that turned politician. A pacifist.

M's displeasure was nothing more than a brief flare of her nostrils.

The Chancellor's arrival was a surprise. Or, half a surprise. This part of her schedule was available to the office to see, as well as the update of prisoners of war and all summarized collections of after action reports.

Having a politician, the face of the bigger and badder gang, could be an advantage for the director.

The Chiss understood working in the shadows, the same behind-the-curtain approach a master hacker had to take. She could leverage that mutuality at the expense of politicians. If necessary. Depended entirely how the reactions played out.

"Chancellor." M greeted thinly, and appraised the contents of the tray. Her brow arched, and she looked back up between the two.

Sometimes, the politics and the democracy she tried so hard to protect, were just annoying.

"Before I progress — do you have any interests you'd like to share."

Auteme / Hacks

 

[Hacks]

"Yeah, that's probably enough nits, isn't it, Director?" a new voice from beyond the energy door spoke, Hacks' plastic eyes turned to study Auteme, and the tray she presented, then back to the director, "Chancellor." Hacks' wondered their working relationship, and more yet why Auteme was here. She vaguely recalled her face during the senate attack from Koda's helmet feed.

"May I come in?" Auteme asked. "I've brought your, ah, temporary limbs." Hacks' already made her mind up the moment she saw the prosthetics on the tray, the answer was no. "You can come in, but I'm not using those," she said adamantly. She had no idea what could be uploaded onto the chips in those limbs, what malware might be lurking to infect what systems she had left. She could wear those for years without any issues, but once someone behind a monitor on Coruscant decided time was up, she would regret ever wearing them.

Then again, did Hacks have a choice? She had no way of fighting back, and if they really wanted to mess with her software they didn't need to sneak it in with new limbs. Her mind wrestled with the thought, a part of her wanted her body back, another part was scared what that could cost.

 

[Auteme]

IVI Hacks
​

“Why, of course, Director. I’m an open book. My goals are the same as yours.” She gave a sharp smile. Her hand went to the door’s release, hit it, and she began to move inside.

With the tray now fully in Hack’s view, she’d find limbs weren’t the only thing Auteme had brought; on the other end were some fruit, bread, a touch of cheese, and a small bottle of nondescript recreational consumable liquid. She admittedly wasn’t sure if Hacks even required such things, but if not, there would at least be more for her. She set the table for the both of them nonetheless. Her hand reached out, and from it sprung cords of colorless ether, spinning to form a table and chairs that were briefly the same white as the cell’s walls, but soon solidified into something more like wood. Auteme sat down, and placed the tray on the table.

“This sucks,” she said, glancing around the room. “Sorry you have to stay here.”

Her eyes went to the limbs. “I get why you’re hesitant. But, uh, from what I can tell-” she glanced back at the Director “-M here has been remarkably kind with you. It wouldn’t take much to, ah, get in your head. This is just basic decency.” She shrugged, and pushed the tray slightly towards the slicer. “I’m not super tech-savvy, but I’m happy to,” she smiled, “lend you a hand, if you need it.

“Oh, and same goes for the food. Poison is old hat.” She reached over, plucked a plum from a plate, popped it in her mouth. “Help yourself.”

She kept her posture open, vulnerable, almost.

No. Waiting. A test, to see what Hacks was most interested in.

 

[Hacks]

Hacks studied the Director. She paused for Auteme and allowed her into the cell, or perhaps she had no place to dictate whether or not Auteme could enter. As the tray came further, Hacks' plastic eyes locked on Auteme as she spun ethereal energy into something solid, perhaps if she still had her organic eyes they could have shown fear, perhaps even hatred, but her plastic eyes lacked emotion.

"This sucks," Auteme said, "Sorry you have to stay here." Hacks began to move, a malformed mechanical hand curled around the edge of her sheets and tossed them aside, at the same time moving her hips and throwing her legs out over the edge of the bed to sit up.

Without the sheet to hide her she was a mess. Her legs were misshapen, her feet had turned to slag and rapidly cooled during her attack, metal joints crunched with stubborn movement. Her left knee stuck out straight, unable to bend like the other. An entire shoulder was missing, exposed wires and cylinders jutted out where it had been blown off. A hand missing from a wrist, taken by a Jedi's blade.

"Yeah, it sucks," Hacks agreed. Auteme eyes went to the limbs. "I get why you're hesitant. But, uh, from what I can tell-" she glanced back at the Director "-M here has been remarkably kind with you. It wouldn't take much to, ah, get in your head. This is just basic decency." She shrugged, and pushed the tray slightly towards the slicer. "I'm not super tech-savvy, but I'm happy to," she smiled, "lend you a hand, if you need it."

"Oh, and same goes for the food. Poison is old hat." She reached over, plucked a plum from a plate, popped it in her mouth. "Help yourself."

Hacks eyes glanced over the food, and then to the small bottle. She quickly took the bottle into hand and uncapped it, "I'll just have this, thanks." Between a swig her eyes studied the cybernetics on offer, then Auteme, "Those limbs aren't plug and play on custom chrome," she explained, "I need to see a specialist for a full-body workup, just about everything needs to be replaced."

As she held the bottle in one of her lower arms, her upper right hand gently laid flat on the table, "What do you want, don't play mind games with me." Another arm, one of her three that remained, reached up and a finger jabbed at her own temple, so as to say she was onto her.

 

[Auteme]

Hacks IVI
​

"Really?" Auteme looked at the cybernetics again, then shrugged. "Goes to show what I know."

Another plum.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," she admitted. "But, okay, I'll show my hand.

"I want a lot of things. Top of the list, there's, you know, the far-off stuff -- a galaxy without war, where every person is provided for, and where every person has a fulfilling life. Failing that, lasting change. Securing of the Alliance, strengthening its institutions, strengthening sentient rights, combating the corrosive ideologies of the Sith, imperials, so on, so forth. Short term, that means defeating the Maw, de-fanging the Imperials, more completely uniting the Alliance via the proper funding of social programs and changing of political culture." She cut herself short and switched track, suspecting Hacks wouldn't care too much for all that.

"To do that, I need people on my side. Don't need to see eye to eye with everyone all the time, but I need to be able to work with people, you know. So, right now- I want to hear what you want, Hacks. Lofty, or material, I don't care. Tell me." She shifted her posture to signal she was listening.

 

[IVI]

Patient and observant as ever, M's simmering disdain remained below the surface. Auteme 's pandering to the prisoner was irritating until the Chancellor spoke, vaguely, of her visions. They were, surprisingly, not unlike The Directors. So she remained silent, politely folding her hands in front of her hips and observing the exchange of the dynamic.

The Chancellor was a core representation of that bigger, badder gang Hacks had alluded to. If her dreamlike generosity didn't appeal to the slicer as a stark comparison to M's more cautious way of giving, then the Director would have to lean in with an alternative, sharper, more threatening angle. It always came down to angles. Everyone always wanted something.

M closed her eyes during the brief interval of Auteme's request for allies, asking the value of an ally and the eventual response from the slicer.

Making a small noise at the back of her throat, M recalled moments earlier in their back-and-forth and chose to emphasize the underlying importance of Auteme's invitation:

"Consistent employers? You're dreaming," she said, "People don't keep me around for long, they toss me aside once they're done with me."

"Consistent employment."

Hacks was useful for many things. Exploitation of connections, testing the security of the SIA's own programming — but long-term employment was something M was wary of. So wary that she'd been hesitant to offer it before she understood whether or not the anti-Alliance codebreaker could be reprogrammed or not.

 

[Hacks]

As Auteme began to speak of her dreams, Hacks mind began to wander. Autemes aspirations were the stuff that Hacks had long ago dismissed as fairy tales for children. It was not a reality she had ever known, or a reality within grasp. She saw the galaxy as rotten to the core and nothing could change it. Her eyes drifted back over to M and watched her as Auteme continued, and only returning to affix her stare when the Chancellor had finished.

It took her a second to recall what she had said, with her mind only paying half the attention it should have. "What I want? Revenge and credits, I want the two that did this to me dead, and I want credits if you expect me to work for you - and my services aren't cheap, loyalty costs extra." Loyalty, Hacks hadn't known loyalty in fifteen years, there were those loyal to her, but she had never been loyal to anyone, not Darkwire, not the Hutts, not her friends. She was surprised this was even a request from the Alliance, and her ego tempted her to throw the offer in the bin - if it did not mean her potential release.

 

[Auteme]

Hacks IVI
​

Hacks's reactions, the wandering of her mind, the severity of her response -- Auteme's conception of the woman sitting across from her solidified, and she changed track.

"That's it?" She sounded surprised, but her expression quickly turned apologetic. "Sorry. That was rude. I was just- honestly expecting... er... something else. Like, okay, revenge. That one's cool. Exciting. Emotional! Great stuff. But... credits? Credits are cheap. Boring. I mean, if all you want is credits, you could've gotten a job working for the corpos on Denon. Or hell, even just mooched off Koda Fett more. He doesn't need the credits. And I assume trying to kill me pays reasonably well."

She almost laughed to herself. Look at her, doing what every politician said they wanted to -- creating jobs.

 

[Hacks]

As Auteme spoke Hacks' frustration grew grim across her face, but then the briefest hint of a smile crossed her lips as Auteme said, "-You could've gotten a job working for the corpos on Denon. Or hell, even just mooched off Koda Fett more. He doesn't need the credits. And I assume trying to kill me pays reasonably well."

The smile left her face as quickly as it had come. She wondered if they were playing stupid with her, Hacks had spent over a decade working for the Corporate Authorities, establishing their power over Denon. Her loyalties to the suits had been her downfall when the new guard of Darkwire changed their ways, changed Darkwire, and suddenly Hacks was the outsider.

Then there was Fett. Hacks' body was broken, but her mind was free. Through advanced cognitive implants her mind soared freely across the vast digital highways of the Net. As she lay in bed at night in her cell, her mind was on Denon, aiding Koda Fett in an underground operation.

Auteme was right about Hacks', but she wondered if Auteme knew just how right she was. Her eyes studied Auteme for a moment longer, "You won't give me what I want, credits, sure, but those Jedi?" Her brows raised and she took another swig from her bottle.

 

[IVI]

Not participating in the conversation allowed M the opportunity to observe. The pacing of conversation, the sharp draws of breath, and micro creases across the countenance happened to untrained individuals during the course of the dialogue. M's nit-picking may have been a lot, but combined with Auteme's abrupt charity, it seemed enough to unravel more and more about their prisoner.

Auteme showed her hand partially, and in exchange, Hacks shared the darkness of her desires.

Revenge was an unsurprising response. So too was the desire for her pockets to be filled. Hacks' wants were of a woman scorned but too proud to admit it. Pride was a symptom of narcissism, and offering an exchange could dangerously play into the prisoner's sense of entitlement. Entitlement that could give way with gentle strokes to the woman's ego. Or, ideally, overinflate until it burst.

M's mouth pulled into a thin line, the corners of her lips sharpening to a point of caution to the Chancellor. If she saw, of course.

"Consider, for a moment, the gravity of your demands." M cautioned to both of them, first to Hacks, but mostly Auteme, who had not pre-gamed this interview ahead of time "How trading lives works.

Is the expensive loyalty of a prisoner of war worth the cost."

It remained unsaid that, even if Hacks was released, there'd certainly be a deathwish on those two Jedi regardless. But that was fine.

Two nuisances taken care of by bounty hunters and less blood on the Chancellor's hands. The sanctity of the Starbird could be preserved.

 

[Auteme]

Hacks IVI
​

Auteme did not turn; her smile remained unbroken, her posture unchanged. To Hacks, it might seem as though the Director had not said anything at all. But Auteme had heard quite clearly what M had to say.

And it made her angry.

Her presence expanded suddenly, washing like a tidal wave over the Chiss, threatening to force her away. Do you think me a fool? Am I a moron to you? Do you believe not a single thought passes through my brain?

Auteme did not move, but she made sure the Director knew she was watching, as though the Chancellor was giving M a death glare. The complete disrespect shown was appalling. She wouldn't stand for it. She barely cared if this was a proper ploy -- an attempt to throw a wrench in her plans. The Director surely understood what was going on here. Auteme was introducing a new piece to the game, and so desperate and foolish the Chiss was to simply refute the move entirely, to undermine Auteme's attempts to put Hacks in play. Part of her wondered if she'd given the Director too much respect; this seemed a brutally obvious move, one without the tact and subtlety she'd been expecting in this bout.

But it didn't matter. It was an outright insult. She didn't mind animosity, but contempt was too much. No, they were equals. They had to be.

Auteme laughed. "Hacks, I could make you rich enough to make Aerarii Tithe blush.

"But that's not what I'm asking. I'm asking what you'd do with it. Because credits are just a means.

"However, I tend to believe that people aren't. Otherwise -- well, I'd be in a much easier conversation, I think, asking Darkwire, or the corpos, or the Hutts, how much they'd give me for you." She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her chin. "Wonder if they have any good slicers."