"Inter Arma Enin Silent Legis" | Post 7 of 20
FIRST ORDER IMPERIAL RESEARCH STATION
K L E V E
THE BLACK HOLE OF QUINTAS
The woman who'd greeted him in the hangar when he'd arrived was a human resources specialist. Lieutenant Solstice Draykon. She was the division officer who oversaw the personnel transfers and receipts section. She'd been stationed out here for less than one year. Initial reports, letters home, all indicated that she was settling in well. Yet, in the last seventy-two hours, she'd sent several transmissions inquiring about a transfer from Kleve.
She seemed quite
desperate for it, in fact.
As for her work, it was all rather routine and administrivia. The last officer transferred had been a Lieutenant Zih Marcos. Wealthy, well-to-do family from Skye. Old money, in fact. Heirs to the Marcos Consortium, one of the leading distributors of shield generators in this part of the Outer Rim. And no small amount of rumors and half-believed lies about involvement in organized crime.
He was a probationary officer, commissioned out of the Imperial Academy just a few years before. His performance reports painted him as a competent officer, but stopped short of saying anything else. His history of assignments was devoid of any starship duty, an unusual thing for a junior officer from the academy.
Most interesting of all, he'd only been on board Kleve for seven months when he'd been recalled to an administrative filing job in the secretariat.
At a First Order base on Skye, of all places.
"This section is
off-limits to unauthorized personnel."
At the point that she'd walked into her own office, the Pantoran had logged off the terminal. Seated, his feet propped up on the desk, the slight figure in the hauntingly blank, mirrored mask was holding up a sparkling geode that she used as a paperweight on her desk.
"I thought your superiors might appreciate an update on the progress of my research."
Taking his feet off the desk, the boy leaned forward as he rose from out of the chair. Setting the geode back on the corner of her work station, the boy walked out from behind the desk. Looking up, so that her reflection stared back at her, the small Ren explained,
"Meditations upon the abyss are proceeding quite well. I expect my observations may be complete soon."
Human emotion was such a fascinating thing. He
unnerved her. Fear turned to frustration. Frustration turned to anger. Anger turned to loathing.
Bristling, the woman coldly remarked, "I'm sure my superiors will be pleased that our station has been able to support your research." And, with that, she stepped aside with the clear indication that she expected him to leave her office.
He started to.
Then he stopped. Pausing, just shy of the doorway, the boy's voice asked,
"I wonder if you could help me?"
When he had turned to look back, the lieutenant merely gave a noncommittal shrug.
"A friend. I thought he was stationed out here."
There was an uptick in her frustration. A palpable sense of a muted vitriol coloring her tone as she acerbically demanded, "Does your friend have
a name?"
The boy tilted his head to one side, the silence turning the attitude of earlier into an awkwardness between them. And then, the slightest curiosity. Part of her was interested in who the boy was looking for. After all, that was information she could feed her superiors.
...perhaps information that could help her to help herself.
"Zih Marcos."
FEAR.
Delicate. Powerful.
Fear. The reaction was instantaneous, her feelings betraying her the same moment he'd uttered the name aloud. "I..." she began, taken aback and off-step as she tried to stammer uncomfortably, squirming in her own skin beneath the glare of her own visage staring back at her. "I'm not familiar with any officer by that name," she managed finally.
A very poor lie.
One that confirmed more than the truth might have ever said.
"Indeed." With that, the black shrouded form of the small Ren quietly slipped from out of the office. As he made his way out in the corridor, the boy reached across to subtly tap the controls on his left gauntlet. As he did, the HUD across his helmet screen shifted as a comlink was opened to his ship.
"ArThree, slice into the Kleve main computer. Target your search on all records pertaining to a Zih Marcos," the Pantoran remarked, silencing the vocabulator so that his words stayed inside the helmet.
So an innocent man was condemned to another's fate, while a merchant prince was quietly taken away to house arrest.
He knew who the players were, he was just missing the play itself.
What was the connection between Marcos and Garibaldi?
Why would the military be protecting a traitor?
And did he have time to find the answers before his being here was an inconvenient truth?