Directly interacting with Alicio Organa | In proximity of Amani Serys | Inanna Harth | Iris Arani | Open to Interaction
Ever since the last two years of his time in the First Order, Nines had been an officer, commanding others but also working alongside them. Up until his most recent promotions gave him command of a battalion, then a regiment, and then a legion, he had been in the front lines himself fighting alongside his comrades as they went into battle. As he transitioned from being a junior to a senior officer, his social interactions had changed, interacting with lieutenants and middlemen rather than the privates directly, excluding major speeches and broad orders. However, he had adjusted quickly and was close with many of his senior subordinates, many of whom had risen up the ranks right behind him.
Yet this was a far more unique situation, as he was truly alone.
If he got too friendly with any of the refugees or officials and his disguise accidentally slipped, they would remember him. He had removed his legion commander's pauldron prior to landing on Tython, but a covert Imperial stormtrooper would nonetheless be treated as a threat, and he knew firsthand that fighting a skilled Jedi alone was practically suicide. Even he could at best hope to kill one or two Jedi before being overpowered with frightening ease by the sheer strength of their mystical powers.
Consequently, it was best to help superficially.
Still, his attention couldn't help but be drawn to notable figures nearby. A four-armed humanoid Jedi created a wall out of scraps of metal, and he was briefly shocked at the anomaly before realizing it was probably a projection of the Force. Closer to Nines, a young woman seemed to calm refugees with the palms of her hands, likely a close-range Jedi mind trick.
Standing among these Force-users and their potent abilities, it took considerable restraint not shoot them dead.
Intelligence gathering. Nines reminded himself. This is all intelligence gathering. Plus, as I said earlier, killing one or two would only make me a bigger target in a camp already on high alert.
Still, such restraint was easier said than done. He instinctively palmed the butt of his rifle under his cloak as he recalled over a decade of brutal warfare against the Alliance and their Jedi counterparts, as well as the role that the oh-so-peaceful Jedi had played in slaughtering dozens of his comrades. His fists grew white under his armor as he clenched them tightly, not daring to move them an inch towards his still-concealed rifle.
It's okay. I can't hand in a report to the ISB if I'm dead. As hard as it is to believe, we have a mutual foe and a mutual goal. For the sake of the innocent refugees, restrain yourself.
Finally, his fists relaxed and withdrew from his rifle. His attention returned to his surroundings and he realized that another person was attempting to direct the crowd, though their voice struggled to carry over the crowd.
"Listen! Enter the ships calmly! Wounded, sick, and children first!" He continued to direct the crowd, trying his best to be a commanding presence, with mixed results. He channeled his cousin Faith as best he could, speaking clearly and poised, the very picture of Alderaanian royalty, but controlling a quickly-expanding group of scared refugees was proving difficult.
Nines turned and walked over to the man, happy for the distraction. Weaving through the crowd with little effort, he strode until he was directly in the man's line of sight and relatively closeby before speaking.
"I have a mic under here." stated Nines, gesturing to the hood of his cloak. "Let me know what you want people to know and I'll deliver it."