Splinters (Complete)

[Subject 37]

[member="Irajah Ven"]

"No." He stated simply.

The 5th Legion was not one to take it's own initiatives. They followed orders, went where the Alliance told them to go and did what needed to be done. The Defense Forces had their own Intelligence Branch, the Navy did, and of course there was the SIS, what Elliot was a part of. No doubt he would do his best to follow through on his promise, but before that could happen Jorg intended to do something entirely different.

It was cruel, but in his mind necessary.

"I'm here to offer you a completely different deal." He stated simply. The soldier that stood in the room moved slightly, shifting towards the door. It was clear from the way that he was standing that it was not to block Irajah from leaving, but instead to stop any unwanted guests from entering the cell. "Turn on the First Order."

Jorg's face remained completely straight. "Defect."

The idea wasn't really all that difficult to grasp, and in truth was an intelligent play, at least from Jorg's perspective. Perhaps the Doctor still had some remaining ties to the First Order, but...well with what Jorg had planned those could be burned in a heart beat.

"We can offer you amnesty, supplies to run your own medical operations, and protection." Again his tone remained that same cool evenness. "All we would ask for is a public statement from you along with further intelligence reports."

A small trade really.

 

[Kuzo]

The sheer weariness of the expression on her face when he said that gave him all of the answer he could possibly need, even if she didn't realize it.

"I know this will be an unpopular opinion, but I moved to Dosuun for a reason. I was on Coruscant, right after the Alliance took it. I saw what there was to offer people who had nothing left. I wasn't impressed."

Her thoughts drifted to Boo when she'd found him, and then sharply back to the moment.

"I'm not a zealot. I'm not going to pretend that everything the First Order does is good and just and for the best."

The Decimation had hit her hard, and stayed with her. She'd stood not far from the stage that day, watching, waiting in a certain of macabre show of optimism in case a Doctor was needed. At least, that was what they told her. Of course, no one who was meant to die that day had needed anything resembling her attention. The message, unspoken to her directly at least, had been more than clear.

"But they offer education, health care and medical treatment. Safety to those who come seeking it. I started out in a civilian medical clinic and in my time as a Doctor I have never seen that level of care offered to those even without the ability to pay. Never."

She watched him, shoulders sagging slightly as the exhaustion of everything that had happened in the last twelve hours settled on her.

"So thank you. But no. I have no interest in being the poster child of 'Those Who Escaped the Order's Evil Clutches,' or whatever they'd call it in the end. I have no interest in being used, no matter how just you think your cause is."

The again was unsaid, but heavy in the air.

"Besides. I'm just a Doctor. I don't think you'd get your money's worth out of it."

No sarcasm, no bitterness. A joke with nowhere to go but to fall flat, perhaps. But also simply fact. Irajah was an open book, a bad liar at best, but she wasn't even trying to do that now. His question from earlier to himself, if she thought she was important? The answer, clearly, was no.

| [member="Jorg"] | [member="Elliot Locke"] |​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Irajah Ven"]

Jorg slowly leaned forward. "I don't think you understand your situation, Doctor Ven. You have no choice."

This was the critical juncture of it all, the point of no return. Half a decade ago Jorg would have pulled Irajah across the table, slammed her face into the metal, and then began to scream at her in hopes of simply breaking her will. Yet that wouldn't happen today. He knew better now, and with the Alliance watching it would not end well for him. So instead he blinked, looked towards the glass behind him for just a few moments, and then slowly turned towards Irajah again.

"You're a traitor." Jorg stated simply.

Of course he didn't refer to her exodus from Coruscant, he didn't refer to her staying in the First Order.

"You've betrayed your government." He shifted slowly, then from beneath the table pulled out the small black case he had placed there earlier. "You've freely given the Galactic Alliance Intelligence on one of the First Order's strongholds and largest assets."

He was of course referring to Panatha. Though some would try to deny it, and others would argue, the First Order saw an incredible amount of value in Panatha and it's residence. The men that resided there were a source of power, both militarily and politically, and the First Order had on multiple occasions defended their asset. Entire fleets had been redirected when the Alliance had made incursion attempts, and it was more than clear that the First Order held value in Panatha.

From the case he pulled out a small datapad.

"They don't know of course, not now." He placed the device in front of Irajah. "But they will."

A video popped up in front of her, a small display of the last two hours, her recounting information, drawing detailed maps, everything. "When you walk free your Government will recognize you as nothing more than a traitor, I'll make sure of it."

He flipped through the images, running through several smaller video feeds until he eventually landed on one that was not of her.

"I can't imagine the First Order would take kindly to that." The last feed was of the Decimation after Skorr, the bloody ritual that had taken place. "Given how they treat failures."

 

[Kuzo]

The series of emotions that flickered across her fact were like ripples in the water. Boredom. Confusion. Denial. Anger.

It was easy to shift blame onto a certain set of shoulders. Elliot karking Locke. The whole thing had been leading to this point. He'd never intended on letting her walk out of here. Not in a way that actually meant freedom. Just another sort of cage- but this one hemmed in by a death sentence rather than locked doors. Sure, he might not pull the trigger, and [member="Jorg"] wasn't aiming a gun at her head in that moment literally. But the effect was very much the same. He may as well have been.

Do what we want, or die.

Anger was the last thing he saw clearly before her face closed off in a mask. It wouldn't last- it took too much to keep what she was actually feeling from her face.

"What's your name?" She asked calmly.

There was a pause before- "Jorg Severin."

Slowly, she nodded, turning the name over in her head for a moment.

There was no winning here. No matter what she did, someone was going to want her dead. There was a small bark of laughter that actually bubbled up for a heartbeat and she smiled, closing her eyes at the irony- because if they'd all just wait a bit, she'd take care of that for them herself.

But no. Impatient mother-karkers, couldn't even let her die on her own terms.

As if on cue, she felt Gideon roil inside of her. Eyes still closed, the barest tightening around the edges of her mouth marked pain. It stayed there, taut as hazel gaze opened again to regard him.

"Well. Jorg Severin. You can go kark yourself with a rusty hydrospanner."

The tone was equally conversationally, but the anger had built back up in her eyes.

She wasn't going to give him anything. It was less about protecting the First Order than it was setting her own terms, as far as she could possibly be able.

| [member="Jorg"] | [member="Elliot Locke"] |​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Irajah Ven"]

Jorg didn't move, he didn't even blink. He simply stared at her with that impassive, almost ghost like look. He had seen such resistance so often, he had watched so many defy so much. It was admirable in a way, but it was also so foolish.

Dozens, hundreds, probably thousands of rebels had lost their lives over the years through foolish acts of pride, and that's what this was; pride. He could understand it, he might have even acted the same way. He could see it in the way that she looked at him, could see it in the way that her anger flared. She was insulted, hurt, and she wasn't about to back down. The Soldier didn't move, cold ice blue eyes simply stared at her. After a moment he let out a breath.

"I see." He stated plainly.

His tone was that same even neutral voice that he had held throughout their conversation. His hand slowly extended, scooping up the datapad and placing it back into the case. He closed it a second later, metallic clicking ringing out within the empty room. His gaze drifted towards Irajah after a moment.

"Before I joined the Alliance." Jorg began to speak as he slid the case back under the table. "I was a stormtrooper with the One Sith."

His eyes returned to Irajah's. "They were not unlike the First Order in many ways. I'm sure your government will deny it, and I'm sure mine would as well, but the One Sith were not what many make them out to be."

Jorg spoke coldly.

"Some of them slaughtered of course, conducted genocide on a grand scale, but to the average family, to the men and women living on one planet or another...they were just another government." He paused for a moment. "The problems came when you were not average. When you're above everyone else. When you were a Soldier, a General, a Baroness."

He paused for a moment. "That was when the troubles rose. When they watched you, scrutinized you. When you made a mistake...and they turned on you."

"I know because it happened to me. I know because I had to run. I had to turn." Jorg shifted for the first time, leaning slightly forward.

"I don't know if it's loyalty that makes you reject my offer. I don't know if it's pride or some illusion that makes you think you're working for good." The Term seemed sickening in his mouth. "But in the end, it's not about that, it's not about any of that. It's about Survival Miss Ven. It's about living another day, seeing the sun again, feeling the grass against your feet, holding someone that's dear to you. It's about taking a breath of fresh air knowing you're free."

He paused again. "You'll never be free again without me."

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah didn't fear death. She had made her peace, if grudgingly, with it a long time ago. She didn't seek it, fought against it at every step, yes, but didn't fear it. What she did fear was the idea that if she died in uncontrollable circumstances, that she would be remembered after she was gone the same way she now remember her father. Tainted, by Gideon and what it would do if allowed free again.

It wasn't out of a sense of nobility. But out of sheer selfishness. She didn't particularly care if people she didn't know died, she'd come to terms with that. But she did care how she would be remembered. How it would be viewed through the lens of rapidly shrinking pool of people whose opinions she actually cared about.

That wasn't to say his words didn't impact her. She couldn't have pretended that they didn't. She was in an impossible place and they both knew it. No decision was right, no choice she could make that would allow her to return to the life she had slowly come to love. She hadn't sought it out, hadn't asked for it, been frankly baffled by the strangely pleasant turn of events that had brought her to Blackwater. But slowly, she had come to cherish her time there. Studies with [member="Ashin"], quiet moments with [member="The Slave"], and yes, even the strangeness that was interacting with [member="Samson"], once she had reordered her responsibility to him in her head. It was the closest to home she'd felt since the day the virus had been unleashed. And, once again, someone was trying to take that from her. Simply because she refused to dance on their strings, to the tune they desired. Her hands balled into fists against the table- and then he said something that changed everything.

They didn't know about her ties to Maena, she realized as he spoke the last of his piece. To [member="Matsu Xiangu"]. To [member="Carach"] . And in not knowing they left her a way out. One that while yes, it would sacrifice Blackwater, still left her an avenue and allies. It was not a path where she walked out of here with everything she had come in with.

But it was better than slinking out with nothing.

"I never claimed anything I do is for the sake of 'good.' I have no illusions about myself anymore in that regard at least. I'm not rejecting your offer because I think it's 'right'. I'm rejecting it because it's a chit offer."

"I haven't been 'free' in the way you mean in two years," she said quietly. Gideon. Always back to Gideon. But soon that hell would be over. And then she truly would be free. But not because of anything he offered. "You're not offering me freedom. Just a different cage. 'Do what we want or die.' Yes. Because that is anything resembling a real choice." The sarcasm was thick in her tone.

No bitterness, however- Not the words of a woman who had given up.

"It's not freedom when a death sentence hangs over someone's head. You don't get to trade one set of shackles for another and proclaim emancipation and expect a cookie for it. I don't know if you're a hypocrite or actually believe what you're trying to sell me. Either way."

She looked at him evenly, mouth tight.

"My answer is the same."

​No.

​| [member="Jorg"] | [member="Elliot Locke"] |​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Irajah Ven"]

He smiled, it was a small smile, but it still touched his lips. He found himself with a small measure of respect for the woman, something that in truth he hadn't really expected. A part of him had felt disgust when she'd freely given them the information on Panatha, the part that recalled all those rebels of the past. They had stood up to hours of torture, sometimes even days. Their bones had been broken and their flesh had been torn from their skin, yet they had resisted.

The idea that this woman would just liberally toss out information on her own government had been an odd sort of injustice to someone like Jorg.

For a long moment he didn't say anything, he only looked at her with that slight smile. The Soldier shifted for a moment, then stood from his chair. Again he was reminded of those past interrogations, what he would have done if he was still a Stormtrooper, but he wasn't. So slowly he stood, picking up the small black case from the ground.

"You'll be transferred to a prison in Alliance space." Jorg stated simply. "Either Sullust or perhaps an SIS black site."

He glanced at her briefly, then the soldier by the door who shifted slightly. The 5th Legion didn't keep prisoners, at least not for long. The ship they were on functioned as a Command Vessel, and it wasn't in their purview to keep anyone on board for too long unless they were actually a part of the Legion itself. He pushed the chair into the table.

"I'm sure Mr. Locke will do his best to keep his deal with you. I, unfortunately, have no input into that." Jorg stated simply.

It might have been at that point that Irajah would begin to realize that Jorg had been entirely bluffing. He was a Major within the 5th Legion, not an Admiral, General, or anything of higher authority. They had no intelligence branch, they had no mandate to turn prisoners, and he most certainly did not have the ability to compromise information gathered from an asset held in secret. Most everything he had told Irajah was a lie, and everything he had promised her had been a simple illusion to get what he wanted.

Now however, he knew there was no way to further that illusion.

The Soldier smiled slightly, then motioned towards the officer standing at the door. Without another word he turned to leave.

 

[Kuzo]

If it seemed strange that Irajah would give them everything on Panatha, and yet nothing on anything else, well, that was only because they didn't know her, or what had happend to her there. Those details had not been forthcoming, and she had no intention of sharing that. They were jailors and captors, not confessors.

In truth, even as he closed the door behind him, Irajah never reached the conclusion that he was bluffing. He walked away with as clear a conscious as was possible, knowing he wouldn't, or simply couldn't, do what he had said. But Irajah was left, believing in his intentions. She didn't know his rank, his pull within the Alliance, what he could, and could not, offer or threaten. The threat itself, when seen through the lens of someone on the receiving end of months of First Order propaganda seemed an entirely credible one. While Irajah did not believe the GA to be the devils offered in the media, there was enough bias to make all of it 'well, of course,' rather than 'but they would never.'

There was no 'just' government, as far as she was concerned. They all did what they thought they needed to do, and damn the consequences. Sometimes they were right in their actions. And sometimes....

The sound of the lock clicking behind him was deafening. Slowly, the tension and fight response flowed out of her, and she slumped in the chair, leaning over to rest the side of her face between her arms, cheek against the cool metal of the table.

Everything was happening as it always did. But not for much longer.....