"Thurstal to Sovereign Darke. Apologies for the delay, Your Grace."
Holo-feeds were already in place in what he dubbed his entertainment center. Sitting in the replica bridge chair, security feeds were arrayed around half of his field of view. The other half showed the picket security detail and their position around the hangars and supply docks, as well as high-speed corvettes aligning on possible escape vectors. Fingers flew across communications keys, the soft electric pulse of his ocular implants aligning with the holo framerate and compensating for variations in the stream. He flipped through communications channels, modulated baritone giving casual orders that were anything but suggestions.
"This is Thurstal. Picket force 7-03, move to staging area 6. Onboard security, detain the bridge personnel and send them to their respective brigs. My authorization or higher required for their release before questioning."
Another click, and the feeds shifted to the supply docks. Some showed no signal, some showed jamming, others showed clear views. A frown creased his otherwise smooth brow... they knew the security feed locations. They knew the layout of this particular dock, and perhaps more of the facility. This changed the necessary response, to something a bit more personal. More clinical.
Supply Dock 7c was not under his technical command, though in practice the One Fleet provided most of the security for approaching vessels. Nevertheless, it would prove to be... detrimental... if he were to sit idly by, and more importantly to allow whatever this incursion was to be completed.
"Emergency code Delta-853. Scramble picket force 7-02, 7-06, and 7-11. 02 and 06 move to intercept trajectories centered around Bay 7c. 7-11, force flag initiate midspace scans and report on ship activity within 15 parsecs. Corvettes, plot possible escape trajectories and align on the four most likely."
Acknowledgement beeps came through almost immediately, and the formations changed for the three five-ship security forces just outside the planet's gravity well. Two moved inside, closer to the docks, while the third fanned out and oriented itself on pursuit vectors facing away. From behind him, if he looked through the portholes, he may have even seen the glows of their drives as they moved.
Click. Change. Ranks of weapons and troopers running past, seizing blasters and pistols behind the grizzled visage of the Commandant of Security. He had been waiting for the connection, and had already given the order to deploy troops. Only a slight pinning of the man's pupils indicated any sense of fear from the calm officer.
"Admiral Thurstal. The team that was assigned for document and content inspection are all dead. They let the bastards get lines of sight against protocols, and stayed together like bloody greenhorns."
A smile. Preemptive explanations, while sometimes annoying, were nevertheless welcome in emergency situations. It gave the mindset of the man, and told the Admiral that he was not immediately responsible for the breach of security, merely having grown complacent in peacetime. A punishable offense, yes. Court-martial? Perhaps. His response to the next order, and its success, would determine that particular decision tree.
"Commandant. Deploy four landing shuttles and eight squads to the hangar. You'll need four assault, two stealth, and two heavy units to adequately deal with these foes. Do not fail the Sovereign a second time."
The man's hand was rising in a salute, and his unnecessary exhortation of success was cut off by the next gesture of a Chiss hand.
Click. Change. This time, a voice preempted the announcement. A young Corellian, with hair in a loose ponytail, was sitting in front of a console, fingers flying over keypads, cursors and text flying across as many panels as the Admiral was viewing.
"Sir. I am tracking their slicer's movements through our systems. They are after the schematics for medium and heavy destroyers. I have been able to keep them out so far, but their slicer is better than I am. Do you want me to scramble?"
There was an EMP in the central data stores of the KDY computer hub. In the event of a security breach or active slice, the system could be deployed, eliminating every scrap of data at the cost of ruining the equipment and shutting production down for a full six weeks while components were replaced and backups retrieved. It was an unforgivable order to execute... and even moreso to not.
Still, their attempt at the plans was interesting. With the still-classified plans for the Hammertongs devices still in the KDY computers, as well as the plans for the Executor and Eclipse dreadnoughts, the fact that they were targeting the destroyers spoke volumes.
"Stand by, Roderick. Continue to interfere, but do not prime the scrambler. Keep this channel open, and keep me apprised of their progress."
Click. Change. Galactic maps. He hummed softly to himself, keying a few quick search commands, ones that he had used several times in recent days as he pondered expansion and conquest... only as an intellectual exercise, of course. Mineral exporters. Smuggler activity.
"My Lords. Skirmish and possible data breach from Kuat. Target: Medium and heavy destroyer schematics. Suspect faction backing. Call the sleepers at Anaxes, Corellia, Midway, and Byss, have them issue reports at their earliest convenience. Will follow up."
In the span of thirty seconds, he had cycled through many of his emergency presets, and then brought back the first connection. He rose and tugged his uniform into a presentable lack of wrinkles, then knelt before the visage of Sovereign Darke, his voice strong but subdued.
"I apologize for the delay, my Lady. The assault on these yards is inexcusable, and the responsible officers will be dealt with accordingly. However, I am sending eight security squads to deal with the interlopers directly, and have scrambled a picket force to intercept should they try to flee. I await your command."