Rebirth of a Nation [Empire of The Hand, ask to join]

[Darth Vulcanus]

​

And so here it was the edge of reality. A black abyss that stretched forth from the cusp of the galaxy, beyond which there were countless others staring right back. It was here that rebirth would begin, here that history had left its mark centuries ago.

​

History was an unforgiving teacher. If you ignored her, she gave no quarter to you and yours. Her lessons were harsh, each quiz and question more demanding than the last. Even the galaxy's most proven often failed to pass her rigorous standards, for they only paid heed to the lessons that benefited their own personal views.

The Hand would not make that mistake. True Imperials were quiet, attentive students. Now their patience had been rewarded.

The First Fleet cut through the stars with daggered hulls, floating eerily towards the emptiness that lay beyond the final rim of the galaxy.

"Grand Admiral, we are not picking up any celestial bodies on primary sensors."

"It is there, captain. Keep looking." Irridius mused, caressing the Ysalimir curled around his arm as he searched the black canvas for the speck of light he had come for.

The files retrieved from Scariff had enlightened him to a great many things, some of which he had taken to hiding away for himself for further investigation. It had taken months of analyzing, but he'd finally done it. He'd found the capital of his new Empire. The first of many technological marvels he would seek after.

"All ships are to continue the advance on the rim, every scanner focused on acquiring The Rebirth. We will not be leaving empty handed."

 

[Krassus Magrody]

Sitting in the warship, I scrolled through the various projects proposed to me; feeling slightly naked that my lone blaster pistol had been removed, drawing my paranoia to higher levels. There were certain minions looking for me, failing to understand my actions where the result of my survival; but here among the Imperial's belief I found a sense of security, though my blaster at my side would have been favorable, culling this paranoid feeling. I never thought myself an Imperial, but after reading what they were and what I was, it seemed a perfect pairing; a marriage cemented in wholesome love. Yet, the restrictions placed on my person slightly unnerved me, however, I can see the need for such scrutiny. I had heard the whispers that they were traitors, marked for extinction by the Galactic Empire; and though some would shun at joining a group marked as such, I embraced it. In truth, it made me feel more connected to them.

While I sat, alone in a chamber I assumed designated for those awaiting a background check, my fingers magically danced across the keyboard on the datapad, approving and denying proposed projects and contracts to my company, with hopes when this communication blackout would be lifted by the Admiral they would reach my employees, allowing for profits to flow in greedily.

A lone knock on the chamber door disrupted my thought process, turning my lips into a frown. "Enter," I spat never removing my eyes, nor my digits, from the datapad. Progress was an important entity, less so to those whom failed to wrap their lower minds around it. A single soldier slipped passed the sliding doors saying in the process, "Doctor, you have been cleared. Officially you have free reign of the ship, but I suggest you proceed with the utmost caution. Times are troubled."

Waving a hand, as if I was trying to swat away some annoying, flying insect, the soldier grunted and spun out of the room. Regardless of my approved standing, the blackout remained; and this could not continue. Gathering my composure, I headed to the bridge, ignoring practically every body along the way. Once on the bridge, I approached the Admiral with purpose saying as I drew closer, "Though I respect your communication lockout, is there some way to get this transmission through?" Briefly I showed him a project that would benefit him and his cause adding, "The quicker my company receives this order, the quicker your power swells."

With one simple word the manufacture of clones, the numbers the Admiral requested as a test of my loyalty, would begin brewing.


[member="Lucien E. Irridius"]

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

The bridge of the Tempest was alight with anticipation.

The dull grays and blacks of Imperial uniforms melded together, buzzing back and forth as the Star Frigate made it's way to the First Fleet. The flying blues and whites of hyperspace swam past the transparisteel viewports, creating a beautiful kaleidoscope of light. Flight Officers mixed with Communications experts, speaking in hushed voices. The slightly frantic expressions of ensigns bustled about, preparing for the Tempest's reemergence from hyperspace. Rumors ran amok, and the truth was on the horizon.

A voice, Than's assistant, rang out over the din.

"Captain on deck!"

The hubbub and excited whispers halted immediately as Commander Balthor strode into the room, noting the sudden quiet. The men, his men, stood at attention, ready to receive whatever orders he commanded. He didn't know them very well, and they didn't know him, but that would come in time.

Balthor's voice was calm and collected, holding the weariness of space travel. "Estimated time of arrival?"

The astrogation officer chimed in, her chipper tone seemingly unaffected by the sudden arrival of her CO. "ETA two minutes, Commander."

Than nodded, glancing out the viewport, willing for time to pass. The others seemed to do the same, all barely containing themselves. Than wouldn't admit it to his men, but he was most likely feeling the restlessness most of all.

This would be his first encounter with the First Fleet, with a new command, newly-bestowed ship, and new influence. It would be an understatement to say he was nervous about embarrassing himself and losing it all. This was the height of his career, and Than refused to let it be his peak.

He spoke into the ship comm, his voice betraying none of his worry. "All units to their stations for arrival. Prepare for possible departure." The dormant excitement in the crew suddenly spiked, betraying the cause for their happiness. With the shadow of a smile, the Commander flicked his eyes to his aide. "Ship status?"

"Shields fully charged, weapons powered down, Commander."

"Good," the man said, touching the vibroblade on his hip for comfort.

Then, the stars around them squeezed together, and in front of them...

Space, dark with flecks of iridescent color. A dark void in the dark void. Ships.

"Comms Officer, send a message to the Shadow of Regret." The old man walked forward, gazing out over the expansive black, towards the warships ahead. "The ISC Tempest is prepared to assist in locating the asset." A thin smile broke his lips. "And Commander Balthor sends his regards."

- [member="Krassus Magrody"] - [member="Lucien E. Irridius"] -

 

[Darth Vulcanus]

The First Fleet edged closer to the end of existence, grazing the thin line between the galactic gravity well and the empty void outside it. Every scanner under Irridius' command was sweeping the ocean of black without pause, searching for the smallest discrepancy in the natural patterns.

Then the Ysalimir croaked, cheeks fanning out and its eyes darting to the entrance to the bridge behind The Grand Admiral. Irridius turned his head over the shoulder, gloved hand caressing the lizard's spine. Krassus, that insistent capitalistic rat, was marching his way up to him with a datapad in hand and a mission plastered on his face. No words had been spoken, yet the Admiral could plainly read the man's motives as he came stepping up as if he had some right to do so. As if he had true power.

As if he was superior.

"Though I respect your communication lockout, is there a way to get this transmission through?" the man spoke without so much as a show of respect, "the quicker my company receives this order, the quicker your power swells."

Silence. Dead Silence.

The pull on the Admiral's gloves was audible, his fingers curling into a fist as he turned to face the rat. The few inches that Krassus had on Irridius quickly shrunk in the wake of the Grand Admiral's shadow, his voice rising like a calm sea on the edges of a great storm.

"My power?" A step forward. A curl of the lips, "Enlighten me, what do you know of my power?"

The Grand Admiral took another step, less than an arm's length separating the men. His entourage of Death Troopers did the same, moving forward from their positions at the corners of the bridge. "Skies burn when my power is utilized. Cities collapse into rubble and smoke. My enemies beg for mercy that never comes, so tell me."

The Grand Admiral's eyes locked with Krassus', "Would you like a lesson on the extent of my power?" A series of blaster locks disengaged, creating a cold chorus that accented the Admiral's words.

The bridge turned to a grave, each officer sweating beneath their tightly fit gray collars. Then, a chime from the bridge comms.

"The ISC Tempest is prepared to assist in locating the asset. And Commander Balthor sends his regards." Irridius eyed Kassus as he stepped away and turned, serpentine eyes locked until his back was fully facing Krassus.

"You will send your message when I allow it through. Otherwise, your company can proceed to create my clones under more effective leadership." Reaching to the comm control, Irridius added one more item to the conversation, "And you will show me the respect of my position. Address me as Grand Admiral before you presume to sully yourself in my presence."

Turning the comm on, Irridius smiled and with a delighted tone responded to the Commander, "Commander Balthor, it has been some time. Your new command suits a man of your prestige I assume?" he chimed, before giving a simple command.

"Activate your ship's scanners and begin searching for a derelict planetoid. Our investigation indicates the Old Republic hid The Rebirth at the edge of the Galaxy, its orbital position would place it in this sector during this time of the Galactic standard year."

Irridius watched, pleased as the Tempest dropped from hyperspace to join the fleet of knives disecting the void for their prize.

[member="Than Balthor"] - [member="Krassus Magrody"]

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

Balthor kept his eye trained on the expansive black, the warm brown orbs radiating a heat otherwise unseen on his face. His officer uniform felt slightly tight, having been a new gift for his position. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword calmly, staring into the darkness.

No matter how many wars he waged, and air battles he took part in, nothing seemed to calm his jitters more than the feeling of a weapon in his hands.

"Response from the Shadow of Regret, sir!"

The Commander stepped up to the Comm station. Hearing [member="Lucien E. Irridius"] brought him back to better days. Days he wasn't on the run from the so-called Galactic Empire. "Grand Admiral Irridius." The syllables rolled off the tongue. He liked it. "Glad to be doing my part. And I hope to rise to the expectations of the position I've been granted, sir."

Balthor's men seemed to like that answer, as their faces softened from the hard masks of stress.

The Commander nodded as the Tempest was given orders, although his face wasn't there for Lucien to see. "By your orders, Grand Admiral." He nodded to the Comms Officer, shutting down the connection. Than turned his attention to further down the bridge, sitting in his chair.

It looked like it might be a while.

"Activate scanners, full-range. Begin a basic search pattern alongside the Shadow of Regret."

"Do you think we'll find it, sir? The Rebirth?" The same astrogation officer piped up from before. The break in protocol would be addressed later, but for the moment, Than was content with offering a sigh.

"I suppose we'll see, Lieutenant. Maneuver into position."

- [member="Krassus Magrody"] -

 

[Atlas Kane]

Atlas enjoyed space. It was silent, cold, didn't require much attention, and would claim his life in an instant should he find himself thrown into it unprepared. He found comfort in that certainty. It was a rarity within the Galaxy, a rarity brought about by constant warfare and bloodshed across countless systems that has left most people of importance glancing over their shoulder often than they might be comfortable with. Atlas took comfort in that certainty as well. It went hand in hand with his life as a Sith. Everyone was a threat, you could trust no one fully. Irridius understood this truth too, much to the dismay of Atlas. As the single condition for Atlas' stay aboard the bridge of the Shadow of Regret he was forced to don bracers connected to an energy field projection module that would stop his movements should he attempt anything that went against the Admiral's plans. Even with their past encounters during the days of the Republic, he was distrustful, with good reason. No one could fully be trusted.

Yet still, he stood calmly, gazing at the emptiness of space. The billions of tiny, starry dots were missing, replaced by an array of coloured shapes, shining their ancient glow countless light years out into the vastness of space. But all he could think of was the planet he was tasked to find. He stood there, immersed in the Force, invisible tendrils reaching out within the invisible energy field permeating all life within the galaxy, coiling in the emptiness of space. Atlas could feel every little living detail this extension of his senses allowed him to experience, as rare as those sensations were, though the lack of life was its own unique sensation in and of itself. It was a crushing feeling. The lack of life, of others, gnawed at his sanity, slowly, like rust biting into the support beams of a massive steel spire. It was faint and nearly unnoticeable, but it was there, feeding on the intact, turning it rancid and rotten. He could feel it. It wasn't enough to cause him serious harm in the short time spans he had to search the emptiness of space, but anyone who was exposed to the crushing loneliness would be driven mad by extended exposure, there was another certainty in that.

Atlas paid it no mind, however. He kept his focus on any sensation of life he felt outside the small fleet his old acquaintance Irridius had brought. He didn't know much about what his goals were, but he was being paid. Some faint, fond memories of their interactions during better days remained as well. He probably wouldn't have accepted conditions like these if it wasn't for their prior encounters, though it seemed that, much like Atlas, Irridius had changed. Gone was Republic Navy Captain Lucien E. Irridius, in his stead was a cold and calculating Grand Admiral whose mouth wore a smile and spoke kind words, but whose eyes could make incisions like daggers. The man was too much of what Atlas disliked, but he was still an old "friend". Enough of the old Irridius remained for Atlas to keep a good opinion of him, not to mention his impressive accomplishments.

Faintly, though their distance was a mere dozen metres, he could hear the Admiral's voice through the fog of his deep meditation, followed by the hiss of a door, followed by an unfamiliar voice, followed by more and more words. Atlas paid it no mind. It was not his task to engage in empty debates over meaningless power that paled in comparison to that of the Force.

[member="Lucien E. Irridius"], [member="Than Balthor"], [member="Krassus Magrody"]

 

[Rhen Ordo]

I'm beginning to see why no one else took this job. The 'corporate security' venture that was initially promised had quickly turned into something else entirely, and Cori had been given plenty of time to wish she'd backed out just as soon as she hadn't recognized the rank insignia of the man who she now knew as the Grand Admiral of this newly founded Empire of the Hand. However, it wasn't his cause that concerned her, but rather what he was willing to pay her for all that she could do. The answer was more than she'd initially expected, and a promised six figures a year for nothing more than her loyalty and silence was sitting pretty as far as she was concerned. It was more than your average galactic citizen could ask for honest work, and more than most mercenaries like her saw from one contract alone. So long as her paychecks kept looking up, she didn't have a reason to go anywhere.

Not that she was given much of a choice in the matter. The fleet had been trekking across the very edge of the galaxy for roughly a month now, scouring for what she'd eventually learned was a giant worldcraft known as the Rebirth. Even its continued existence was a speculation, but for some reason this particular group of Imperials had faith that it would soon arrive for them to take as their own. It wasn't her business, really, and frankly she didn't care if they found it or not so long as she continued getting paid. Loyalty and silence, that was why she was on the payroll. Well, that and she could become just about anyone and get about anywhere if she needed to. It was details like that which made her an asset, she supposed, though it was only so useful of an ability on a ship that seemed to be going nowhere as far as she was concerned.

For the majority of the trip she'd confined herself to her quarters, which in reality amounted to a room where she and nineteen Imperial Marines bunked together. It was obvious from day one that there would be none of the same camaraderie offered to her as was to their fellow soldiers, but she wasn't getting paid to make friends. Whatever they dished out she returned, though their banter didn't faze her. She'd never expected a ship full of indoctrinated bucket-heads to respect her, and these ones didn't, so everything was panning out fairly nicely. There were really no complaints to be made, as besides their general abrasiveness none of them really gave her any true trouble. They were all just people trying to survive unfortunate circumstances, and while she wouldn't necessarily say she owed them any form of respect, she understood where they were coming from.

Today she wasn't content with wiling away time in the same room as always, and so she'd taken to wandering the halls as per usual, ignoring the looks she received that were equal parts fear and disgust at so much as her presence on this ship. Idle steps led her to the pilots' lounge, and she supposed that would do for a change of scenery. Wandering in to the empty room she sat down on the couch - upside-down, of course, with her booted feet kicked up on the back and the upper part of her torso hanging down where most would rest their feet. It was entertaining, at least. Sort of. I'm bored.

[member="Barron Fel"]

 

[Darth Vulcanus]

A good captain had unquestioning loyalty and impeccable respect for his superiors, Than was an exceptional example of such.

With a satisfied smile, The Grand Admiral turned his attention to the Sith he had allowed to suckle from the blood of The Hand. [member="Atlas Kane"] stared quietly out of the frontal viewport of the bridge, eyes closed and a black hood pulled overhead. A slithering disgust climbed his spine every time he looked at that zealous fool, whose very existence made a mockery of true Imperialism. He would have had him shot from the airlock if it weren't for who Atlas had been a decade prior.

The black hood pulled down over his face had once been a brown hood always hung loose. His metal boots made of leather and the saber dangling from his hilt cast a blue blade, not a crimson one. Back then, he served the Republic alongside Irridius, not that his station as a Jedi Padawan was far more acceptable than his current loyalty to The Sith. At least then, however, Atlas had questioned his loyalty to the bumbling Jedi and had understood the corruption of the senate he served. Now, he seemed more lost than ever and to a host of pretenders no less.

If Atlas had any sense, he would be ashamed to continue to serve such ignorant fools such as The Sith. It was clear that he wouldn't correct that mistake himself though, so Irridius would correct it for him. If the stories and reports of The Rebirth were true, he would create a far more...suitable order. Atlas would find himself pioneering said order, whether he agreed to or not.

Afterall, correcting his life was the least Irridius could do for his kindness all those years ago.

"Grand Admiral! Starboard sensors are picking up an anomaly approaching on a course consistent with orbital rotation!"

Turning to the left-hand command pit, Irridius' twisted smile grew longer. "Deploy scouting parties, alert commander [member="Than Balthor"] to approach the anomaly."

Turning again to face Atlas, "Kane." Irridius stated coldly, expecting nothing less than a snappy response from the Force User.

 

[Darth Vulcanus]

"I was born to a hollow world with hollow walls..."

Barron tapped stylus to datapad, eyes glued to the first line of his life's story. It was a boring story, one nobody would want to read but if he didn't write it down some other nerf herder would get it all wrong. Which he wouldn't have started worrying about if it wasn't for that day when The First Fleet left the Galactic Empire behind.

The ship creaked and lurched suddenly. Barron focused on the gravity pulling on his body....they were moving towards Starboard and they were doing it fast. Maybe they'd finally found something. That'd be a nice change of pace.

Actually finding something they were looking for.

Cursing under his breath, Barron continued his swagger down the hall with stylus pressed to his lips. He was going to find some way to make this life of his sound interesting. So on and on he walked, ignoring the pilots rushing past him and the hurried march of Naval officers on their way to the bridge. If it was something they needed him for, they would have called him so it wasn't his problem right now.

Right now his problem was the lack of caf in his system and the grinding torture of correct comma placement. If he was lucky, the answer to his first problem would be in the pilot lounge. If he was even luckier, he would walk in to find three beautiful women holding a case of Corellian whiskey and a ghost writer. The doors swished open, Barron stepped through, eyes glued to the datapad.

He had spent so much time pouring over mission reports while entering the lounge that he didn't even need to look up to find the caf machine anymore. Like a caffeine fueled Droid coming in for a charge, Barron clamped the stylus between his teeth and used his free hand to start the instant caf brewer and load the beverage canister like a clockwork machine.

Five creams, three sugar like always.

The machine hissed and the steaming concoction poured into his durasteel cup. All that was left now was to go to his favorite seat and-

Barron blinked. Then he blinked again, his mug barely touching his lips.

Hanging over the front of his seat, boots kicked up on the head rest, was not one of the blondes he had imagined. Instead, it was The Girl with the Krayt Tattoo with black eye shadow to match.

Barron stood, quiet for a moment, trying to place the girl. Trying to decide if he should call the security officers on duty and if not that, was she attractive enough to flirt with. He settled with the obvious statement.

"You're, uh, in my seat."

[member="Cori Ilian"]

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

The bridge was silent with tense anticipation as the Tempest fell into position alongside the Fleet. Than's promotion had tore the ship away from the First Fleet for three weeks. The secrecy of their movements, combined with Commander Balthor's insistence on being meticulously quiet, had kept them away from where they felt most comfortable.

Now that they were back, and so close to finding an ancient artifact to call home, spirits were high.

The Commander himself sat at attention on his chair, observing as his officers went through their procedures. Much of his stress had faded away, replaced by the euphoria of command, and the sensation of falling back into something he was comfortable with.

A stirring from the Comms Officer. "The Shadow of Regret has detected an anomaly! We've been ordered to investigate."

Ripples of apprehension and excitement rolled through the bridge, and Than felt it all. A twitch of a half-smile pulled at his lips, and his ever-steady eyes stared ahead. "Peel away from the search pattern, starboard side." The older gentleman pushed up from his chair, once again taking up position in front of the transparisteel. He stared into the beyond, willing the Rebirth to be reborn.

The Tempest bravely propelled forward through the darkness, a symbol of Imperial obedience.

After a moment of waiting, Than turned his head to his assistant. "Ensign? Status report."

The officer brought out his datapad, receiving information from the ship's scanners. His eyebrows raised significantly. "A large anomaly, directly ahead." The boy had to scroll through the numbers again, surprised. "Large, large anomaly."

Than was the first to see it.

"Comms Officer?" The Commander's eyes softened, his smirk growing into a genuinely warm smile. "Alert the Fleet. We've found the Rebirth."

The cheer emerging from the bridge was barely contained.

"Prepare boarding parties for launch, and await further orders from the Shadow of Regret."

- [member="Barron Fel"] - [member="Lucien E. Irridius"] - [member="Cori Ilian"] - [member="Krassus Magrody"] -

 

[Rhen Ordo]

She heard him once he was a few feet from the door, and from the cadence of his footsteps as he neared the entrance it was evident he would be joining her. While Cori didn't necessarily mind the idea of company, she was mostly annoyed that she hadn't heard him sooner. A Star Destroyer was louder than she'd anticipated, though not because of the people aboard. Her unique, albeit acute method of hearing picked up far more than she would have liked, and she'd already decided that from this point on she was never boarding another vessel for any extended period of time unless it was absolutely necessary. There was too much to process, and she didn't even want to consider the possibility of getting used to something like this. It had only been a month, and she was ready to get groundside for at least a short while.

Hazel eyes absently tracked the stranger as he entered the room without even looking up, a crooked smile turning up one side of her mouth. Making a show of it, she raised herself up just enough to look over the couch as if searching for a name tag before relaxing back and looking up at the new arrival. "I don't see your name on it." It occurred to her then that he was likely one of the pilots who actually belonged here, not just some mercenary who'd gotten bored and didn't have anything better to do. Still she refused to budge, only studying him from her rather unique vantage point. It was the hair she immediately recognized, and from that his name - or, at least, the family to which he belonged. It had been a long time since she'd seen anyone of his lineage around, and it almost would have been refreshing to see him, if his blood were actually in charge again.

Briefly she entertained the possibility of calling him by name, but it would be better to play her cards close to her vest until she actually learned more about the kid. "Shouldn't a flyboy like you be out serving your glorious Empire? What's got you cooped up in here with a hired gun like me?" But he hadn't immediately walked the other directed once he spotted her, so that was a bonus. Then again, his kin had never quite been like the rest of the Imperials she'd interacted with over the years. For awhile she'd considered pledging herself to their cause indefinitely, but time had run out before the opportunity presented itself. It was, however, nice to know they still lived on. That was one bright thing in an otherwise indifferent galaxy. If only your dad could see you now, kid.

[member="Barron Fel"]

 

[Atlas Kane]

A loud voice rang out throughout the bridge. It echoed shortly, drowning out the quiet chatter and electronic equipment noises. It was loud, but to Atlas, it was piercing. His concentration and immersion into the Force had already been weakened by the background noises of the Admiral's conversations, the shout of one of the crew broke it, however. The message it carried was that of discovery, the meaning it carried was optimistic, yet Atlas could do nothing but focus sheer hatred towards it as his perception came back to the physical reality, away from the all-encompassing Force. His eyes closed for a moment, a quiet sigh breaking his silence. When his eyes opened again, the Admiral's reflection in the viewport's transparisteel indicated his attention had turned towards him, followed by an utterance of his name. The Sith remained still and wordless, however.

His anger and annoyance towards the officer who had broken his concentration remained, though Atlas did not make this apparent, nor did he act on it. Instead, he further fueled its flame, using the power these emotions gave him to immerse himself in the Force once more, to bend it to his will. It took only moments for him to reach out into the coldness of space again, perception once more divided between physical sensations and those of the Force. The cold and lifeless feeling returned once more, once again gnawing at his mind, barely and only briefly. For as quickly as the sensation rolled over him, as quickly did it fade, making way for a new, more intense and palpable one.

"Deception, lies, separation, false promises, reunion. Yes. The place is strong in the Force. I can feel it, your station, Admiral."

His voice was quiet, going barely above the electronic sounds of the bridge equipment, though it grew in volume as the confirmation was made. It was cold, husky, and had a tone that remained emotionless, save the smallest hint of contempt. He turned to the Admiral in his chair, corrupted eyes glaring through a mask that betrayed nothing but cold neutrality. Arms crossed in front of his chest, he stared at the two men he saw. The Admiral in his usual clean, sterilized appearance, his cold and expressionless face betrayed by a smile, though one born of undoubtedly cruel intent. In contrast the man beside him, sufficiently proper looking, yet far more rugged and unimperial. Kane spoke once more, his tone matching the one prior.

"Now that you have found your prize, what do you hope to accomplish with it?"

[member="Lucien E. Irridius"], [member="Than Balthor"], [member="Krassus Magrody"], [member="Cori Ilian"]

 

[Darth Vulcanus]

​

"Greatness, Kane. With The Rebirth requisitioned in name of our new Empire, we no longer require station on any natural planets." A Luciferian smile curled back the Grand Admiral's lips as he stepped beside Kane, "self-sustaining. Impegrenable. Versatile. This station will be our ultimate weapon."

The glint in the distance grew closer, the orbit of the ancient world bearing craft intersecting with that of [member="Than Balthor"] 's Tempest. The air of excitement reached The Shadow of Regret when Than reported what Kane had confided to Irridius. The cheers rolled quickly through the command pits and through the halls as the announcement was made over the comm speakers. Turning his snake-oil smile to Atlas, The Grand Admiral teased the Yasilimir's head with a gloved hand and moved for the comm.

"This is where history will be reborn, Kane. Delight that you are apart of it." Pressing the comm, Irridius requested to be broadcast directly to the bridge of The Tempest so he could deliver his next task personally...it was an integral one.

"Commander Balthor, The Shadow of Regret will be dispatching Black Squadron and a scouting party. Mirror these actions and begin probing The Rebirth for signs of automated activity. The defenses could still be active and I will not be losing my ships to ancient robotics." Delight flowed through every order, a cynical excitement laced in his words.

"Once we have verified the defense grid is non-operational, I will be dispatching a regiment of Marines to the surface. I expect to meet you at the landing area once it has been cleared, Commander."

Once their conversation had been concluded, Irridius turned the comm frequency to contact one of his many mercenary hires. [member="Cori Ilian"] was both his biggest threat and his greatest asset. The woman, if you could call her that, lacked moral compass and Imperial discipline, but her species unique talents had not gone unnoticed. A shifter of her caliber could become useful quickly if they were to encounter any defenses that needed to be overridden by specific Imperial or New Republic personalities.

"Ms. Illian, report to the bridge immediately. You have found use." Irridius cut the call just as quick as he had begun it, just in time for the call on Black Squadron to echo through the corridors.

With the pieces in place, Irridius turned towards Atlas once more, "You have done a great service to me and my Empire, Kane. Do you maintain the will to continue that service?"

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

Than tore himself away from the viewport to turn to the comm station. Appreciating the beauty and grandeur of the station could wait. He had orders coming in, and that was all that mattered.

He lingered by the comms as [member="Lucien E. Irridius"] gave his orders. Commander Balthor stood at attention rigidly, uniform pressed, sword gleaming at his side. His back was arched proudly, although he didn't let any of that pride invade his face, being as placid as ever.

"Of course, Grand Admiral," he said, after the man gave his orders. "All going well, I'll see you on the ground. Balthor out."

He turned to his crew, eyes suddenly hard. "Well? You all heard the Grand Admiral. Bring us into orbit."

The Tempest began it's descent into the gravity well of the station, weapons slowly charging.

"Comms Officer, patch us in with Black Squadron. I'd like to know if they see anything right away." Than smiled to himself, thinking back on different times. "And send my greetings. I would love to meet them."

- [member="Atlas Kane"] - [member="Cori Ilian"] - [member="Barron Fel"] - [member="Krassus Magrody"] -

 

[Rhen Ordo]

When the call came through Cori couldn't help but roll her eyes, the irritatingly pompous voice of the Grand Admiral having that effect on her just about every time she heard it. With a resigned sigh, she flipped backwards off the couch, nearly folding herself in half to perform the feat but rising to her feet fluidly all the same. Making a show of stretching, she looked to her sole companion, flashing a smile. "Well, duty calls. We should talk later. You're just about the only person here I can tolerate, and I think I've got some things to say you might want to hear." Ending her statement with a raised eyebrow she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, offering a half-hearted wave without looking back. Sticking to the edges of the halls as she meandered her way to the bridge, she did her best to ignore the klaxons that called the flight personnel to their stations.

There was no distinct clip to her footsteps as she entered the bridge, simply because none of her movements elicited any sort of audible tell. A cursory glance about the room granted her a general assessment of her surroundings, and without a word, she stepped up to stand just a few steps behind her employer. In comparison to the officers about her posture was relaxed, there being nothing truly military about the way she held herself. It was underestimation that allotted her her true power, as in truth she was one of the most perfect apex predators that inhabited the galaxy. It was that which made her an invaluable asset and gave her paychecks unlike those most would ever see, and why she'd been hired on for this job as well.

"You rang?"

[member="Lucien E. Irridius"]

 

[Darth Vulcanus]

[member="Cori Ilian"]

Irridius turned to face the liquid smoke, eyes piercing the woman as he cracked a snake oil smile and took a step forward. "It appears you are the second to assume you can march onto my bridge and fail to address me in a proper manner." The Grand Admiral hissed, his eyes darting to the miserably kept stray hair hanging in front of her face. It disturbed him deeper than it should have and he couldn't hold back his sneer.

With a shaking, but calm glove, he twined the hair around his fingers and brushed it to the side of her face as he continued, "You will address me as Grand Admiral. And you will be accompanying your Grand Admiral to the surface of his new prize."

Retrieving a datapad from his inner jacket pocket, Irridius handed it over to the woman. "A list of names and faces, you'll recognize them."

After Irridius had learned of Cori's power he had set to work making her memorize the faces, biological files, fingerprint files and vocal patterns of long dead Imperials, ones who'd worked on The Rebirth. If there were any security systems still active, they may need their appearances to avoid unwanted destruction of their new facility.

 

[Darth Vulcanus]

[member="Cori Ilian"] [member="Than Balthor"]

Barron watched closely as Cori flipped backward off the couch, though his eyes may or may not have been watching her lower end. It had been months since he saw a woman who wasn't covered in shaggy, unrevealing Imperial dress. He didn't make a comment though, he just stood, mug of caf in hand and watched as she faded out of sight past the doorway. What a shame more women like her weren't frequenting the lounge. Nice eyes, a good hairstyle, a feast for the eyes.

The pilot took a final sip of the creamy caf, setting it down as the call for Black Squadron rolled out over the comm. "Always the worst timing" the ace growled, jogging back out into the halls, becoming a grey blur as he beelined for the hanger in the belly of the mechanical beast. It wasn't long before Barron's zig-zag through the labyrinthian corridors brought him in sight of the TIE Advanced Fighters.

The squadron was already forming up, kit and gear were strewn about the shadows of their vessels and each was strapped into their black flight suits.

"Looks like the captain finally decided to join us." Black Two barbed, a jesting smile wrapped around the red gorges in his purple tinted skin.

"Can't go up without my caf, shredder, you all want to die or something?" Barron poked back, giving "shredder" a friendly punch in the shoulder. Black Two, Shredder as he was called by the team, was a half-zeltros human who barely passed flight school. Barron only whipped him into shape after several months of almost physically whipping him. In the end, he was the second best pilot in the squadron and well deserving of his position as Squad Second.

The crew laughed, piling into their fighters. Before long they had launched into the blackness of space, only to be met with a glowing, aimless moon floating through the abyss.

"By The Force..." Shredder mumbled

"Keep it quiet, Two, Admiral is listening."

About that time a hail came from The Tempest. "Apparently someone else will be too." Barron grumbled before turning on his official voice and answering, "This is Black One, reporting in Tempest."

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

Ensign Grant. Lieutenant Keeles. Senior Lieutenant Fralta. Comms Officer Threnn. Lieutenant Demigono...

Than ran the names through his head, looking across the bridge of the Tempest with an appraising eye. He had always been terrible with names, but worked hard to compensate. His warm brown eyes were soft as felt, yet held an intensity that made some look away.

He looked down at the comm panel he was hovering by, acknowledging the message from [member="Barron Fel"]. He hadn't had the chance to meet the young up-and-comer. He reminded the older gentleman of himself, except the other was far more successful at his age.

"Black One," Than stated, skipping any formalities until later. "This is Commander Balthor, of theTempest. May I recommend you send your sensor data directly to the Tempest for processing?" Than smirked confidently, turning away from the station to look out over the expansive black.

"This would allow me to have ample time to react should any systems power online on the station, as well as coordinate our efforts further in the search."

Of course, there were more benefits. Than would be able to transmit these coordinates directly to the Shadow of Regret, furthering his own personal success.

Commander Balthor wasn't a power-hungry man, but even he knew being in good graces with the Grand Admiral was important.

"All going well, I would also like to congratulate you when we make landfall."

- [member="Lucien E. Irridius"] - [member="Cori Ilian"] - [member="Atlas Kane"] -