The True Loyalist
NYRIAAN
Imperial Headquarters
Imperial Headquarters
Days before the mission to free the Warlord happened, Moff Braxiatel sent a cryptographied message to ISB Director Reiner Ghadi, saying the following: "Moff Braxiatel requires your presence to discuss Rebel Infiltration inside the ISB". Of course, Braxiatel knew very little about Director Reiner: a senator from the Rebellion -now the so-called Galactic Alliance-, who betrayed them for the glory of the Dark Empire in a precious moment. The scale of his betrayal was so grandiose it trembled the Rebellion's platforms from inside out. Even if Braxiatel didn't particularly respected -nor liked- traitors from both sides, he couldn't deny that the Director was a key character in all of this. His presence, or lack thereof, in the Conspiracy would be decisive for them to achieve victory. In times of calm before the storm, one would have to take risks and get beyond their comfort zone to survive the chaos that will cover Imperial politics. That, unfortunately, also involves policking.
Once the ISB Director arrived in Nyriaan's hangar, a committee consisting of five commandos would escort him to the Moff's headquarters, where every piece of technology that could record their conversation was not only kept offline, but turned off and unplugged from their source, the walls as thick and sound-proof as one could get. There was no art, no decoration, no mere sign of luxury inside the Moff's office, but a place that would match the most secretive, cold ISB base. There were no windows, no red carpet, nothing that would resemble a livable place. Just a brutish, rustic room with unplugged cameras, holoprojectors, a climatizer -Nyriaan was 40 degress celsius on average, after all-, a table stuck to the floor, a chair made of steel to support Moff Braxiatel's heavy armor without breaking, and a weapons locker behind the chair, made to blend with the walls, almost imperceptible.
The Moff was sat in said chair, his posture as rigid as ever, waiting for the Director's arrival. As soon as he shows his face in the room with the rest of the Imperial staff, simply raising the right hand in a dimissive manner would suffice to make all the soldiers go away, and lock the door.
"Greetings, Director Ghadi. Pardon the environment, we don't like politicking much around here". The Moff would stop himself, almost as if correcting himself, in a cold, but decisive and blunt way "I don't like politicking much around here". The Moff put emphasis in the word I.
Reiner Ghadi
Once the ISB Director arrived in Nyriaan's hangar, a committee consisting of five commandos would escort him to the Moff's headquarters, where every piece of technology that could record their conversation was not only kept offline, but turned off and unplugged from their source, the walls as thick and sound-proof as one could get. There was no art, no decoration, no mere sign of luxury inside the Moff's office, but a place that would match the most secretive, cold ISB base. There were no windows, no red carpet, nothing that would resemble a livable place. Just a brutish, rustic room with unplugged cameras, holoprojectors, a climatizer -Nyriaan was 40 degress celsius on average, after all-, a table stuck to the floor, a chair made of steel to support Moff Braxiatel's heavy armor without breaking, and a weapons locker behind the chair, made to blend with the walls, almost imperceptible.
The Moff was sat in said chair, his posture as rigid as ever, waiting for the Director's arrival. As soon as he shows his face in the room with the rest of the Imperial staff, simply raising the right hand in a dimissive manner would suffice to make all the soldiers go away, and lock the door.
"Greetings, Director Ghadi. Pardon the environment, we don't like politicking much around here". The Moff would stop himself, almost as if correcting himself, in a cold, but decisive and blunt way "I don't like politicking much around here". The Moff put emphasis in the word I.
Reiner Ghadi