Iron Curtains Cost Money

[Livgardist]

STAR WARS

IRON CURTAINS COST MONEY




ABHEAN, R-7 SECTOR,
OUTER RIM TERRITORIES​

THE PLANET ABHEAN IS AN ECONOMIC POWERHOUSE ON THE OUTER RIM. THE CENTRAL GOVERNMENT, SEEKING TO ESTABLISH STRONG RELATIONS WITH THE REPUBLIC AND THE BORDER ALLIANCE, HAS INVESTED CONSIDERABLE CAPITAL INTO THE CONSTRUCTION OF SUBSIDIZED SHIPYARDS, WHICH WOULD HELP FURTHER ESTABLISH THEIR ECONOMIC DOMINANCE IN THE SECTOR.

THEIR PLANS, HOWEVER, ARE STALLED BY A RECENT SERIES OF SABOTAGE EVENTS IN SOME OF THEIR FACILITIES. THE ABHEAN GOVERNMENT BELIEVES IT IS AN EXTERNAL FORCE, AND HAS REQUESTED AID FROM THE BORDER ALLIANCE.

ACQUIESCING TO THE REQUEST, THE BORDER ALLIANCE DEPLOYS A SMALL SQUAD OF ELITE COMMANDOS FROM THE DISTINGUISHED DEFIANCE SQUADRON TO INVESTIGATE THE SOURCE OF THE DISTURBANCES, AND REESTABLISH SECURITY ON THE WORLD.

ONBOARD A REPUBLIC SHUTTLE, THREE SOLDIERS OF THE BORDER ALLIANCE AWAIT LANDING ON A SHIPYARD ORBITING THE INDUSTRIAL WORLD; KHALEN TRIANII, A SOLDIER AND FORMER JEDI PADAWAN, RYMANN VIZSLA, A MANDALORIAN JOURNEYMAN PROTECTOR, AND JARON NASIF, A COMMANDO TRAINED IN HUNTING SITH...

Jaron sat in the back of the shuttle, having "carved out" his own little corner of the transport, where he had spread out his gear, and was meticulously going through it to make sure everything was a-ok. He had handpicked each part of his gear for this mission, due to the high risk of encountering Force users, as the Abheans seemed to believe that the Sith were behind the sabotages. Therefor, as a non-Force Sensitive soldier, Jaron who relied on his equipment to even the gap, was heavily dependent on the right tools for the job.

His main armament for the mission was a cortosis-durasteel bodied M60 Sonic Enforcer, modified with the lightsaber resistant body by COBALT to allow for it to be used in close quarters combat against a lightsaber user. He had opted for the sonic weapon instead of a blaster because of the difficulty blocking its effect. In addition to it, he also carried a Z311 sonic pistol, and a Westar 35 blaster pistol. He also carried his cortosis alloy karambit as always, and wore fingerless shockgloves on his hands.

As if this weapon output wasn't enough, in his combat vest, adorned on the front with a shield shaped, golden yellow Border Alliance patch, he carried several canisters of OC pepper spray, Mk 3 firespray, and ABC scrambler grenades, as well as batteries for the sonic weapons. Each pme was a highly effective tool in his hands to be used against Sith. Related to the ABC scramblers, a gas mask was hidden in the vest's pockets as well to protect him from the grenade's distracting effects.

As his eyes looked over the equipment in front of him, his brain was working meticulously, examining the grenades to make sure they were not dented, moving on to the batteries, and then ensuring that the mechanism of each of the sonic and blaster weapons was in perfect working order. After a while, satisfied, he finally put down his combat vest on the floor next to his seat, and allowed himself a moment to light a cigarette. A thin file detailing everything they knew about the sabotages on Abhean was resting on a table nearby, but Jaron had already read through it closely. The soldier was nothing, if not thorough.

"We're approaching the Galactic Republic Shipyards." The co-pilot stuck his head out into the bare cabin of the shuttle to let the three soldiers know. "ETA twenty minutes."

@Krajin
@Stormthroe

 

[Stormthroe]

From his seat nearest the cockpit, leaning against the corner of the outer hull and the small half-wall that separated the shuttle pilots from the passenger bay and a leg upon the seat next to him, Rymann halfheartedly flipped through the thin file that was meant to serve as the intel for the mission that he and the pair of strangers sharing with him were bound for. Although the document covered the mission's purpose, in all reality, the squad was going into hostile territory blind, with no knowledge as to who, or what, was sabotaging the shipyards of Abhean, and it really wasn't worth wasting any further time on.

Rymann spared a cursory glance over the top of the file at the other two members of the team he'd been assigned to, his newfound companions far more interesting than reading over the measly information provided in the brief for the third time. The first was a hulking, armored alien whose features reminded him of the lithe, felinoid predators that stalked the equatorial jungles of Concord Dawn. The large alien seemed dangerous enough based on his size alone, but as Rymann's gaze fell upon the beast's fangs and passed to his claws, he lost his nerve and averted his eyes to size up the other aruetii on the team; if he could avoid any confrontation with such a large creature, all the better, and he'd learned long ago that staring too long at animals tended to rile them.

The other member of the squad, a grizzled-looking human, sat isolated at the back of the cabin, meticulously checking over an impressive arsenal of gear; over a half-dozen grenades, a strangely colored combat knife, and several firearms occupied the surfaces surrounding him, seemingly claiming ownership over that corner of the ship in its entirety. Rymann watched as the man carefully checked each piece of gear before placing it into one of the many holsters, hooks, and pouches on his combat vest.

After a moment of watching the other man prepare his equipment, Rymann shifted from where he'd nestled into the corner, placing both of his feet on the floor and setting the briefing file aside. He wasn't half as heavily armed as the other human, and nowhere near as large as the cat-soldier that shared the cabin with him; dressed in standard issue combat armor courtesy of the sponsorship of Houses Vizsla and Kryze, Rymann wore the stark orange and yellow of the Border Alliance, the shield-shaped crest emblazoned over his left breast and the crimson, sharp markings of Clan Vizsla inset into his pauldrons. Reaching down alongside his seat, he calmly drew up the DC model blaster carbine that he'd used since his time as a Journeyman Protector; the weapon was spotlessly cleaned thanks to four years of disciplined drill, and with just as much precision and focus as the seemingly more veteran soldier, he checked the sights, action, and magazine with smooth, practiced motions. A moment later, his own preparations were interrupted by a voice from the cockpit.

"We're approaching the Galactic Republic Shipyards. ETA twenty minutes."

Rymann didn't even look at the pilot who'd spoken, removing the charge pack from his rifle before setting it down on the seat beside him. Somewhat uncomfortably, he stretched out a leg to reach behind him and drew out a silver cylinder that had been hanging from his belt. Softly, he began to recite the Resol'nare, the Six Tenets of the Mandalorian way of life, to himself, holding the cylinder in front of him as he leaned forward. In the polished metal, he could see the reflection of his defined features and his qukuuf looking back at him, the stark blue Kiffar tattoos contrasting with his pale skin even in the dim light of the shuttle's passenger bay, lost in his own thoughts. This was his first mission with aruetiise, and truthfully, the furthest from home he'd ever been; the words brought him at least a little comfort, helping to ease his nerves for the task before them.

Rymann rose to his feet, clipping the metallic cylinder back into place on his utility belt as he did so, before patting down his waist to make sure his gear was in place; a pouch containing his medikit sat alongside the cylinder on his utility belt, while five spare 30 round magazines were mag-clamped into easily accessible hard points closer to the front of his torso. Perpendicular to his spine, Rymann felt the sheathe of his combat knife tucked securely against his back, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. Satisfied, he reached up to the overhead rack and pulled down a visored combat helmet, tucking it under his arm before picking up his blaster rifle from the bench and striding across the durasteel plating that made up the shuttle's deck.

He approached the cat-giant first, switching his grip on his rifle to his other hand to free his arm, which he offered in a Mandalorian warrior's greeting to the stranger.

"Jate urcir'a, aruetii," he spoke flatly, his low voice reverberating with the guttural sounds of Mando'a as he politely greeted the large alien in an attempt to mask his discomfort, "It is practice among my people to know the names of those who fight beside you. My name is Rymann. How long have you served on Defiant Squadron?"

 

[Krajin]

Khalen had spent the majority of the trip laying on one of the larger seats with a calm, almost languid demeanour. His spot was smack centre of the shuttle with a view to both of the individuals, cockpit and escape pod that was present in case of an emergency landing that no one was expecting. The folder their mission came in had lost its interest within minutes of being handed over, after reading it over once or twice with the information provided within was found to contain little aside from a few points that these saboteurs were to some degree professionals in their jobs, having not been discovered. Yet. Rather than expensive weapons and ordinance on the floor or table in front of the Trian, there was instead a bottle of Alderaan Ruge Liqueur that had the lid off and was half drunk. Inside the shuttle, the air was heavy with a certain tension that seemed to follow soldiers around before they went on a mission.

His gaze slowly crept over the two in the shuttle. First was the large Soldier, a big guy with an unusual knife and a rather odd if not predictable and slightly... excessive armament with him. The grenades, sonic blasters and the regular pistol topped with rather interesting armour. His meticulousness was admirable, how everything was arranged in a manner that allowed for the soldier to reach and obtain what he needed, when he needed it. A good system to carry, grenades aside. Then came to the other man in their group, less armed but still formidable. His youth had an advantage to it in terms of raw potential for humans. He had an.. inexperienced look about him though that brought a small smile to Khalens expression. Adjusting his position on his back, one leg propped up whilst the other flat on the seat, his coat hung loosely down showing off the large, heavy looking revolver-like Blaster he wore strapped to his thigh. Honestly in comparison to the rest of them he felt really under armed. Eventually he sat up though and stretched out a bit with his tail curling up and then relaxing, claws flexing out and then disappearing back into their little sheaths in his fingers as much large felines had.

His armour as it could be considered was for the most part concealed beneath the long, stylish dark duster that he wore over it all. This was going to be an interesting mission it seemed. Digging out his datapad he took out a small stylus type pen and began to write on it. Having taken to enjoying writing rather than just stabbing the screen keypad, he made an entry and then coded it, put it away and leaned back in the chair with the bottle in his hand, boots up on the table with one ankle over the other and a rather relaxed expression on his face. So we enter the fire, with the tried and untested. He thought to himself. Eventually the Co-pilot stuck his head back through the door to call out "Approaching Galactic Republic Shipyards, ETA twenty minutes!" He said.

Khalen looked up as the young man approached with rather unusual tattoos adorning him, a nice blue that seemed to work with his hair and body armour. Aside from the insignia most of them wore of the Defiant Squadron. "Jate urcir'a, aruetii," He spoke in a flat, gruff voice. Khalen translated that as a rough 'Good to meet you, Outsider' taking the lesser of the meanings of Aruetii. "It is practice among my people to know the names of those who fight beside you. My name is Rymann. How long have you served on Defiant Squadron?" He asked. There was a sense emanating from him, a surface emotion that Khalen could read. Not just from the way he tried to mask his words but.. an ebb he could feel. That natural smoothness, the calm that Khalen had continued to flow. Perhaps as a way to settle any discomfort from the young man as he gave a slight, playful grin towards the individual and stood up to give him the greeting Mandalorians gave one another. Not that he was one but rather through familiarity with their culture that he'd been exposed to through the space lanes. He settled back down on the seat into his relaxed position once more "You can call me, Khalen. How long with Defiant? A few Months. Mostly running guns for them." He would reply. "Yourself?"


@Livgardist
@Stormthroe

 

[Stormthroe]

Rymann barely came up to the cat-alien's chest when it rose, forcing him to need to look up in able to maintain eye contact as the beast's large paw grasped his forearm firmly, returning his greeting. Though Khalen's grin merely succeeded in baring his predatory canines, Rymann felt a strange calmness come over him as the beast spoke despite his size and appearance, almost as if the man-beast was emanating an aura of serenity. Although he couldn't explain why, he felt the intimidation he'd felt a moment prior ebb to nothing. In a way, this unnerved him nearly as much as Khalen's fierce appearance, but the creature's relaxed tone and odd peace overrode any hesitation he might have been feeling. Rymann shifted his weight to one foot as the hulking cat-warrior fell back into his seat, the beast's head still nearly level with his standing height, and then continued their conversation.

"Khalen," repeated Rymann, both as a friendly acknowledgement and to assist his memory of the name. He repeated it once more in his mind, before continuing, switching the grip on his rifle so that he grasped the muzzle and lowered its butt to the deck so that he stood at a lazy order arms, "I've only recently been assigned to the Squadron, just a few weeks. This is my first deployment as part of the Border Alliance; I'm originally from Concord Dawn."

Rymann rose his empty hand to tap the symbol of House Vizsla on his opposite pauldron, turning to allow Khalen a clear view of the crimson emblem emblazoned on his shoulder.

"Houses Vizsla and Kryze called for the Journeyman Protectors to volunteer several units to serve in Mandalore's Alliance garrisons. I was assigned to Defiant following induction. The price of prowess, I suppose." Rymann offered a friendly smirk, enjoying his own private joke.

Rymann turned his head to glance at the veteran soldier now nonchalantly puffing on a tobacc cigarette in the corner, the thin wisps of acrid smoke drifting across the passenger bay of the shuttle to swirl lazily in the empty space, hardly disturbed by the atmosphere scrubbers that quietly cycled the air. Rymann smiled slyly, speaking up so that the other man could hear him over the low hum of the engines.

"Careful, burc'ya. I have no desire to be blown up before the mission even starts," he laughed quietly. Looking over the man's equipment, Rymann quizzically raised an eyebrow as his voice shifted to a more questioning tone. "One might think we're walking into a warzone with a kit like that."

"K'oyacyi, Khalen. I'll have your six whatever we find." Rymann gave his new-found companion a curt nod, before pulling his helmet from beneath his arm and turning to approach the third member of their team. His eyes watered slightly due to the cigarette smoke hovering in the air, but he stifled the urge to cough long enough to fall into the seat abreast the man's combat vest and as he placed his combat helmet on his knee, he offered his hand in the same greeting he'd offered to Khalen.

"Rymann," he said politely, far more comfortable speaking with another human after being dwarfed by Khalen's feline bulk, "The brief wasn't too specific on what we can expect once we hit Abhean. Based on the ordanance you're toting, I'd guess you're expecting an army."

@Livgardist
@Krajin

 

[Livgardist]

Jaron looked up when the man spoke to him. With an apologetic smile he killed the cigarette.
"I'm sorry." He said. "Sometimes I forget there are other people around me." As the man joked about his arsenal, his face grew serious and professional once more, and his hand, almost thoughtfully, moved over the vest, and the weapons and gear attached to it, each with its own role and job in a combat situation. Each part of the soldier's operational toolbox, ready for a variety of scenarios. He stabbed the karambit into its sheathe, and shouldered his combat vest, closing it in the front as he stood up, putting his sonic blaster across his chest.

The other man approached and extended his hand;
"Rymann." He introduced himself. Jaron shook his hand.

"Jaron."

"The brief wasn't too specific on what we can expect once we hit Abhean. Based on the ordanance you're toting, I'd guess you're expecting an army."

Jaron shook his head.
"Sith." He replied. "I'm not a force user. So I have to make up for that disadvantage with superior tactics and weapons. If there are Sith on the Shipyards, I don't want to be caught unprepared. You always want to engage an enemy on your own terms, of course, but that preparation is twice as important when your enemy has the Force at his disposal. We're not Jedi, after all. We're soldiers." He turned around and searched his backpack for a moment before bringing out an extra canister of firespray, which he tossed to Rymann.

"Just in case. Might save your life. Don't get any on you. Once it takes, it doesn't die until it's burnt out. Only way to get it off yourself is to take out a knife and physically cut off the exposed skin." He didn't mention the fact that there was about a dozen galactic conventions banning firespray as a weapon. After all, special operations forces were usually above such rules, or at least they considered themselves to be. He tossed another canister to the alien that was the third person in the team, adding: "OC. Pepper spray. It hurts like you wouldn't believe. Force users have a hard time protecting themselves from it. If you get in a pinch, don't hesitate to use it. Best case, it incapacitates them. Worst case, it takes away their attention from you."

He felt the vibrations as the shuttle prepared for landing, and stood up, grabbing his backpack. Moments later, the engines died out, and a crew member came into the cabin and opened the pressurized door leading out to the docking bay. Jaron was first with stepping down onto the Galactic Republic Shipyards, a large, sterile concrete docking bay like any other. But until they knew who the saboteurs were, this was enemy territory, and he told his comrades as much. The soldier had fought too many Sith in his days to take needless risks on this mission.

@Krajin
@Stormthroe

 

[Krajin]

Khalen watched as the large Mandalorian soldier went over toward the Veteran Commando and introduced himself. The Trian kept lazing on the seat as the man spoke about needing his gear for the mission just in case they ran into a Sith. "Despite that Firespray Canister that you have is illegal in many systems across the republic and outside it. Might be advisable to keep it hidden or not used unless you want to have issues later." The Trian piped up as the shuttle landed and the hatch was opened. "Quite a horrific, unfortunate weapon to employ and even more so when or if Collateral damage comes from it." He added and eventually swung his legs off the couch and stood up. He adjusted his coat, neatening it up and getting any wrinkles out of it. He caught the canister of Pepper spray with surprisingly quick reflexes and held it with his thumb and forefinger with a look of 'Oh god what is this?'

Handling it like the Pepper spray was some kind of nasty handled slime or something. Carefully he put it in a pocket of his "Uh.. Thanks. Not that I'll need it. But the thought there is quite thankful." He was thinking up potential uses of this canister of irritant, a few of which seemed to hint at him getting hit with the nasty stuff as well. Not that he would appreciate it, considering his species sensitivity. Khalen was the second one out into the Hangar bay with a casual grin on his face, looking less and less like a soldier and more like a casual civilian. Especially in comparison to these two with their armour and weapons sticking out. Greeting them was an older woman sporting a Republic Fleet Systems uniform with an Administrator name tag attached, She had a security escort on either side of her and each were sporting standard uniforms and a sidearm each. "Greetings. I am Administrator Adara. Welcome to Abhean." She looked between them with a nod as she addressed the men. The Trian gave a friendly smile to the woman "Good Afternoon! Administrator Adara." He would say. "We're here to solve all your problems and make sure whatever the issue is, will be solved!" He adds with a happy smile that seems to sit in a stark contrast to the rest. "I am Scout, this young man to my left is Rymann and the big fellow with the Sonic Screamers is Jaron. Best that Defiance has to offer."

She seemed taken a slight bit aback with the forwardness and open friendliness that wasn't exactly expected from professional soldiers. Maybe they'd sent in the wrong group? Doubtful since two out of three sported the insignias and patches that fitted with the squadron they were affiliated with. "So! Where can we be of use? I think it would be wise to check out the locations that the sabotuer hit, as well as sensor logs, security records, all those sorts of things." She looked at him and nodded "Right this way then."

@Stormthroe @Livgardist

 

[Stormthroe]

"If the stories the spacers tell are anything to be believed, I'd prefer there be an army," joked Rymann, delicately taking the fist-sized plasteel device Jaron offered and turning it over in his palm to closer examine the canister. The weapon was foreign to him, unknown in make or model; more than anything, it reminded him of the paint-canisters that the swoop gangs who spent their spare time tagging the farm equipment on Concord Dawn used to deface every tractor, building, and occasionally animal they came across. Given Jaron's explanation, Rymann assumed that it functioned as some kind of single-use promethium bomb or disposable flame thrower; not that it mattered considering one use was probably all it needed to reduce whatever it touched into ash as it burned on its own accord. Rymann guessed that if it worked the way he thought it did, the substance would probably burn when submerged and though it might not produce a flame, possibly even in a vacuum. Nasty stuff.

Rymann sat forward enough to reach the mag-clamp that held his combat knife firmly in place while Khalen spoke, and with an audible vrrt sound, removed the sheathe from his belt and replaced it with the firespray grenade. It attached with a snap as the magnets in his utility belt fastened themselves to its outer casing. Reaching up to the breastplate of his armor, Rymann touched a small glyph to activate one of the modular mag-clamps over his collarbone, securing the combat blade with the hilt down, blade facing outward, allowing for an easy draw. Content that everything was in order, he felt the shuttle begin to lurch and its speed decrease, signalling their approach to the Abhean Shipyards. Jaron and Khalen both stood and began to arm themselves for the mission at hand; already clad in his combat armor, Rymann simply switched on his range finder before removing his helmet from his knee and standing up.

The familiar blue holo-screen flickered into life over his left eye, highlighting the veteran soldier in front of him with a thin, white outline and casting a blue haze over the durasteel bulkhead behind himm. Rymann lifted his helmet, placing it over the range finder and strapping it into place before picking up his rifle, aiming it at the deck to check over its action one last time. He then dropped it to his side and moved opposite Jaron, taking hold of an overhead pipe to steady himself as the shuttle rocked, glancing through the cockpit at the rapidly approaching orbital shipyard before turning his attention back to Jaron.

"I've...I've never actually met a Force wielder," he admitted sheepishly, "They say that any one Jedi Master is worth a squad of super-commandos, capable of using their lightsaber to slay 10 warriors clad in beskar'gam before they can even draw weapons. I can't help but wonder if my own skills will be enough to match such rumor." Rymann was only half kidding; the legends of the battles between the ancient Mandalorians and the Jedi Order were probably exaggerated, but every good myth had some basis in truth.

Rymann turned his head lazily, nonchalantly watching the pilots guide the shuttle into a slow approach towards the station. The Abhean orbital dock grew until it eclipsed the entire viewport, easily over 1000 meters in each direction, with attached drydocks large enough to assemble at least six capital ships simultaneously, as well as house the required workforce to do so. In a word, the shipyards were enormous; a fortress unlike anything Rymann had ever seen, even after seeing the House spires of Mandalore. The flat, octagonal-shaped megastructure had four limbs branching off from opposite faces; two, including the one they were drawing nearer to, seemed to be small-craft docking bays for visitors and minor refits, while the drydocks extended from the other sides, one containing two capital ships in various states of assembly, and the other housing a single Hammerhead-class Corvette, the name 'Immortal' painted in large, elaborate script below its command deck. Rymann gazed at it for a moment, impressed by the majestic look of its ventral fore decks, before noticing a small, cylindrical, vista-ported command center atop the entire structure. Like a great eye staring out into the Abyss of space, the command center had a clear view of all approaches leading to it, no doubt augmented by the sensor dishes that sat poised at each corner of the dock and the antennae lining each spar.

The young Mandalorian only half-listened to Khalen's words of warning as the shuttle passed through the ray shield that separated the docking bay from empty space. The ship settled into its landing gear with a loud hiss as the pneumatic locks on the rear hatch released, and the door began to lower. Jaron stepped forward, followed by Khalen, each seemingly eager to begin their work. Rymann took a deep breath, calming the nervousness that had begun to make him sweat underneath the plasteel armor, before adjusting the grip on his rifle and following the other two members of the team. Before he could leave the passenger bay, however, one of the pilots yelled out to him.

"Good luck out there, soldier. Make us proud." Rymann glanced back, giving the pilot a quick thumbs up, before lengthening his stride to catch up with the team.

The hangar they had entered was not extremely large, not much more than a sealed rectangular garage just big enough to fit most light freighters. The hot engines of the shuttle creaked loudly, echoing off the plain durasteel walls as they quickly began to cool, and the scent of exhaust fumes seemed to assail Rymann's senses as he stepped away from the shuttle after his companions. Even despite the visor, he needed to blink several times to help his eyes adjust to the bright artificial lighting of the landing bay. As his vision cleared, he watched the large docking bay door open and three thus-far unidentifiable shapes begin to approach Khalen and Jaron ahead of him.

Taking up a position just behind Khalen's left shoulder after catching up, the unidentified entities revealed themselves to be a woman, Administrator Adara by her introduction, and a pair of armed security personnel. Based on her exuberance and manner of dress, Rymann hardly needed to assume that she was the individual in charge of this installation, and likely the one who had called for the assistance of Defiant Squadron. He remained silent as Khalen introduced the team to her, and provided the Administrator no more than a polite nod as the large cat-man gave her his name seeing as diplomacy was not his strong suit.

Rymann agreed with Khalen's suggestion as to where to begin the investigation, and followed obediently as the Administrator turned on her heel and directed the three of them to follow her through the hangar door.

"I would be happy to lead you to our security center to begin your work, however, as I'm sure you noticed on your way in, gentlemen," she spoke, her tone commanding, if not imperious, "Our facility is substantial in both size and capability, able to retrofit or construct up to six corvette-sized vessels simultaneously. We have something of a walk ahead of us, so allow me to brief you along the way."

The hangar they had come from was the one of ten attached to a main corridor contained within the docking spar, extending on towards the central structure. The corridor was filled with workers busily pushing carts loaded with crates in either direction, supervisors barking orders, and droids of all shapes and sizes moving between the hangars, creating a veritable parade of activity that seemed to break upon the Administrator's cleanly pressed and fitted uniform and flow around the six of them. Other security personnel saluted Administrator Adara as they passed, smartly snapping their hands to their brows until they were out of view before dropping them to their sides. Rymann scrunched his face in disgust at her ignorance, though, he was somewhat more forgiving considering it was unlikely she herself was military.

"This facility is entirely self-sufficient, maintaining enough infrastructure to completely house the entirety of our workforce, which most assuredly means that whoever is to blame for the reasons outlined in your briefs must be aboard the station itself. We've found evidence of foul play across several of the main areas of this level; our generator sublevel was attacked two months ago, one of the routing couplings removed deliberately, shutting down power to the dry docks for four days before the issue was corrected, putting us nearly two weeks behind schedule to finish the current quota. Two weeks later, we discovered that one of our medical facilities had been broken into, the door cut with a plasma torch, and according to inventory, several dangerous chemicals were stolen from the storage bays there," the Administrator continued her brisk, poised pace, leading the team into the main body of the vessel through what appeared to be one of the primary cargo bays, explaining why it was so heavily trafficked. From here, Rymann was astounded by the sheer size of the structure; he'd expected the interior to be cramped, like the inside of the shuttle, but instead, the station was what was essentially a floating city about a mile in diameter, larger than some of the cities he'd patrolled on Concord Dawn. As they walked, Adara continued to tell them of minor things that had happened over the course of the past few months; doors being intentionally broken, tools going missing, and other issues that had gone unresolved, but nothing that stood out to Rymann as indicative of sabotage. It quickly began to annoy him, and he was relieved as the Administrator eventually reached the end of her grievances and began to explain the layout of the facility. According to her, 90 percent of the station's active workers resided on the primary level they were moving through, which consisted of eight subsections branching out from one central gathering area, the commercial district where a small market had been established and the workers could enjoy all of the amusements of home. The central area also held a turbolift that led up to the restricted area of the command center, where most of the important functions of command and control and station communications were operated. There was also a veritable maze composed of service corridors and station mechanical systems used only by facility maintenance through another lift in the power subsection. The Administrator explained that there was a twin cargo area connected to the other docking spar as well, an environmental section where the hydroponics farms and life support systems were maintained, the residential quarter where the facility staff was housed, two subsections entirely devoted to research and development, fabrication, and special projects labs, and of course the security subsection devoted to defense controls, station monitoring, and the security personnel barracks and armories where they were headed.

Just as Rymann was starting to grow bored after nearly 15 minutes of walking, Administrator Adara stopped suddenly and briskly swiped a keycard through the reader of a secure blast door with the word 'restricted' painted in bold face lettering. The device beeped, a red light blinking three times before flicking to green and the door opened to reveal a room full of terminals, each projecting and rotating through dozens of feeds from the nine major districts and the dry docks. The personnel manning these terminals snapped to attention upon viewing the Administrator, one of them knocking over their chair in the process and scrambling to upright it. The Administrator stepped inside without a word, gesturing for Rymann and the others to follow her inside.

"All of you, out," the Administrator barked, passing her gaze over the three members of Defiant Squadron with a wary eye.

The workers in the room grumbled and not-so-quietly cursed as they found their way out, and as the last of them passed through the hatch, the Administrator closed it, pressing a key on the access pad and locking it once more. Suddenly, she turned to face Rymann and the others with a hard expression. As she began to speak, Rymann noticed her voice had dropped in register entirely, as if she were speaking on some taboo subject.

"I apologize for boring you. Perhaps its time I tell you the real reason we have to suspect sabotage," she said. Rymann found his interest in her words instantly rejuvenated, and listened intently as she continued.

"One week ago, one of my security personnel was attacked and knocked unconscious by an unknown assailant while guarding one of our special projects labs. Both his weapon and security card were stolen, and unfortunately, the secure lab was illegally accessed using his credentials. However, a simple breach of security is not the issue here."

Administrator Adara looked to each of them, ensuring that Rymann, Khalen, and Jaron were each paying close attention to her next words.

"What is, is that the research lab that was accessed contained top secret information on a military project that a team of my top scientists have been working on for over a year. The primary purpose of the project was to develop a prototype device capable of breaching even the most fortified bulkheads during boarding actions. We dubbed it Project Skeleton Key," Administrator Adara folded her hands behind her back, striding to the nearest terminal. Inputing several commands, the main screen lit up after flashing an override code, and then displayed a series of blueprints showing a backpack-sized device.

"Skeleton Key was designed to be carried by a single soldier as part of a boarding team and could be affixed to nearly any metallic surface by mag clamps built into its housing. When activated, the device was meant to exude a small, one time use fission reaction functioning on the same principals as a thermal detonator, essentially creating a small sun for a few seconds and vaporizing any material caught within its radius, opening any bulkhead for a team to clear the next passage or in dire circumstances, to be used as a demolitions charge to critically damage nearly any vessel. I'm sure persons such as yourselves can appreciate the usefulness and flexibility such a device might offer."

"However," she continued, still inputting information into the terminal. A video pulled up on the screen, and she continued to explain as she prompted it to play. "The research team designing the device did not calculate correctly, and the reaction proved...difficult to control. This video was recorded remotely during our first attempt at testing using one of two prototypes." The video began with a short explanation of the test, showing the device being affixed to a sealed armored bulkhead on board a small tramp freighter. After a moment, the device began to emit a whining sound as its power source flared, before suddenly disappearing into a brilliant ball of plasma a few meters in diameter. The Skeleton Key remained for a few seconds, glowing with the heat of a tiny sun, and then began to shrink in on itself, leaving a gaping hole within the bulkhead, its edges glowing white hot.

Suddenly, a flare emitted from the sphere of plasma as it approached the size of a child's ball, lashing out wildly for an instant. Then another, and another, until before their eyes, the plasma sphere on the recording soon began to better resemble an urchin of spasming lightning and wild bolts of raw plasma. The screen showed the lightning turn back upon itself, before immediately shrinking to the size of a marble, then a flash that caused the entire screen to go white and turn to static.

"The prototype had been too unstable, and luckily, the tests were performed remotely and no one was injured in the blast. We immediately set to correcting our mistake with the second, which for security purposes, was kept within a state-of-the-art vault within the lab itself. At first, the break in seemed to have left the vault unscathed and we thought nothing of it, but upon continuing the project a few days after to allow for a proper investigation, my team discovered that the vault was, unfortunately, stolen."

Administrator Adara paused to let the gravity of the situation fall upon her captive audience. Then, curiously, she smiled. Hidden beneath his helmet, Rymann raised his eyebrow inquisitively. What was this aruetii playing at?

"The fact that the device was stolen in the first place provides us a short list of suspects, however. Besides myself, only four others have access to this secure storage room, allowing us to know that one of them is the perpetrator," Adara suddenly allowed her smirk to fall away, returning to a dour expression, "This is where you come in. While we have protocols in place meant to log and track the access to this facility's secure areas, a...coincidental...failure of our security systems left a gap in our records, providing our culprit plenty of time to have accessed the vault and escaped with the device. Considering the requirements of accessing the secured cell, this fact leads my superiors and I to believe the person responsible has some form of assistance from an outside force, as all employees with the skills to cause such a disruption were accounted for by their supervisors at the time of the outage. Your task is two-fold; our number one priority is to find the device before it can be activated or smuggled off-station, as though this second prototype was modified to attempt to correct the errors indicative of the first, we have absolutely no idea if it is stable, and a blast even half the size of the one you witnessed is more than enough to cripple, if not outright destroy this station."

"The second," Administrator Adara wiped the screens clean, locking down the secure files once more before turning to the Rymann and the others, "Is to identify, and if you are capable, apprehend the suspect for further questioning by the Abhean government. We would prefer you not use lethal force on our staff, if at all possible, to preserve the opportunity for counter interrogation. As for the offworlders who assisted them, my superiors have given me permission to allow you, as representatives of the Border Alliance, to act under constabulary status on our behalf. I ask that you do not damage my station while you perform your duties."

Administrator Adara smiled politely, causing Rymann to shiver slightly. This woman reminded him of some of the more direct Journeyman Protectors back on Concord Dawn, the one's known better for bringing in their targets in bloody heaps instead of binders. He nearly jumped as she suddenly jerked into motion, withdrawing the keycard she'd used to access the security room from her pocket alongside a small data-chip, offering them to Khalen as if he were the one acting as Jaron and Rymann's superior.

"This is my personal access key, capable of opening any door on board the entire station, and a data-chip containing the dossiers of our four possible suspects. My security teams have been made aware of most of the parameters of your mission, excluding the more classified details, and will not interfere in your efforts, but that said, have standing orders to protect both the station and its inhabitants over assisting you should you come under attack. I hope your skills are up to the task," the administrator folded her hands behind her back as Khalen took the keycard, looking sternly at each of them in turn, "Do you have any questions?"

Rymann's pauldron softly rubbed against the main carapace of his chest plate as he began stroked his goatee a moment, the armor creaking as its wearer processed the information the Administrator had provided. In his mind, he was reeling from having so much information thrown at him at once, but one question seemed to come to mind.

"Why call us in? Shouldn't this be an internal matter with your government? You obviously have the staff to deal with this sort of situation, and given the nature of the stolen device, I'm nearly positive that the Abhean military has some form of involvement up here." he asked, doing his best to hide the unease he felt behind a mask of professional bearing.

"Ah, yes, well," Administrator Adara rose a fist to her face, coughing into it to clear her throat as if she'd gotten something caught in it, "The truth of the matter is, the Border Alliance relies on this station, and others like it, to provide ships and materials for its efforts, and also as valuable supply points for any mission extending further into the Outer Rim along the Perlemian Trade Route. Your higher echelons have just as equal an interest in keeping these shipyards running smoothly as the Abhean government. Thus, you are here." A cruel glint seemed to cross her eyes as she smirked ever so faintly, adding, "And for far fewer credits than it would cost us to hire an equally lauded team of independent bounty hunters. Was there anything else?"

@Livgardist , @Krajin

 

[Livgardist]

Jaron spoke very little during the walk to the security hub - in fact, he said not a single word, content with listening to the woman give them information of greater detail than had been included in their dossiers. His brain was working on high gear. As a member of COBALT, he had had more than one opportunity to participate in counterintelligence operations, and already he was thinking of ways to wash out the saboteur so that they could be apprehended - never, unless absolutely necessary, killed - and interrogated, after which, according to SOP, they would be sent off to a Republic blacksite, and "disappeared".

It was with great interest that Jaron listened to the administrator tell them of the prototype called "Skeleton Key", a cutting edge device similar to a SADM, a special atomic demolitions munition used by special operations forces, backpack sized nuclear weapons to be planted behind enemy lines in case of a full scale world war. This device, however, was not a weapon of mass destruction like a SADM, but a weapon intended to breach ship hulls in naval warfare. As a special operations agent, Jaron could easily see a dozen applications beyond the prototype's original purpose. Naturally, in wrong hands, the weapon would be a nightmare.

He had to hand it to the Administrator - though she immediately rubbed him the wrong way, she was sharp, and had made many wise decisions regarding the whole situation, keeping as much of it as she could under wraps. She evaded a straight answer to Rymann's question as to why they were there. After all, bounty hunters were not the only other option - the Abhean military had fine special operations and counterterrorism forces that were more than capable of rooting our saboteurs. At first glance, their own presence there was redundant.

But, Abhean was a border world, caught between a rock and a hard place - the Sith and the Republic - and not everybody agreed to the plans to grow closer to the Republic. There were many opposing elements, not all of them peaceful. It occurred to Jaron that the reason they were there was because Administrator Adara could not, at least not with 100% certainty, trust the Abhean military or her own people. The Border Alliance's Defiance Squadron, however, was an outside element, forged to fight the Sith. Especially when a handpicked team was sent, they could certainly be trusted.

He decided, however, not to press that issue, though he made a mental note to mention it to his comrades when they were alone.

"We need your people to put low-vis surveillance around each of the suspects if you haven't already." He spoke up for the first time since stepping ashore. "In addition, we need you to release information through your commanders - and make sure that nobody knows from where this information stems - that we have video recordings of the theft, badly damaged, but salvaged by the our team's tech specialist. Tell them that we have an image of the thief and that we're getting ready to make an arrest. Then, wait and see who makes a mistake. Give us a name, but do not touch him. We'll handle it from that point on."

He continued without pause;
"About the prototype. Republic military SOP dictates that weapons of mass destruction, including experimental weapons of the power that you are talking about here, are equipped with a launch code identification system. Similar to the PAL devices used for the Republic's WMD program. Does the Skeleton Key have such a failsafe, and if so, who has the launch codes, and who has the capability and know-how to override them, if anyone?"

He took a deep breath, before firing off one more question.
"You said that this is a fission reaction device. Is the device radioactive? Would it be possible to locate it using geiger counters, or other radiation measuring equipment? If so, how soon can you organize patrols to, secretly of course, search the station? And if so, I would like to arrange for each suspect's home to be sweeped for residue radiation - secretly, of course."

@Krajin
@Stormthroe

 

[Krajin]

Khalen followed, looking bright and sprightly as he did. As if nothing could ever spoil his mood in this place. The shuttle ride was fascinating and even more now was the proverbial tour of a rather excellent shipyard. Lurking at the back now with the two big and meaty fellows at the front with Adara talked and kept her distracted, he slid his hands into his pocket and hit Record on the Datapad. He looked around, watching the security guards walking about and making note of where the sensor balls were that sat in the corner of each hallway with a sweeping view of the corridors. It was beautiful in a stark, utilitarian manner though Khalen would wish there was some kind of greenery, plants, even holographic plants would do something for this station of cold steel and permacrete.

The recycled air was cold, chilled to a comfortable temperature for most humanoids and even he found it cooler. Though it was doubtful for the men in their walking tanks. Upon entering the room and having it cleared out, Khalen took a seat and up went the feet onto a console counter to watch and listen to the briefing of what the object stolen was and those suspected. All the suspects cropped up seemed fairly usual, four people who had access to it. As the others offered up their opinions and thoughts to it, Khalen would pipe up "You know, putting people under surveillance, even the subtle kind can be noticed if they are paranoid enough. Considering the situation. You should also look at those close to them. Receptionists, secretaries." He tucks both hands behind his head and takes a breath, another thought coming to mind. "Considering the Republic doesn't have or use Weapons of Mass Destruction anymore, super weapons are something that is supposedly banned all over the place. If such things popped up, the kind of damage it would do if it went public would be... considerable. To say the least. So SOP codes and all that nonsense isn't something you'll encounter or see I wager. Even moreso with launch codes, its a Man portable device, not a torpedo. This particular device whilst dangerous isn't exactly a weapon of such destruction unless placed on a reactor or other such location for maximum damage potential. Reactor, Life support, Shielding Arrays, an important strut. Or... if you wanted to be a bit less predictable.. there's a mighty fine allotment of starships out there. Especially Hammerhead-Class Corvettes."

He muses a bit, grinning slightly now and slowly sat up to look at them. No doubt scoring a look from at least Adara with his.. casual demeanour. "If the device has been stolen, then your best bet would be to examine the locations where one could do the most damage. If that is the theoretical goal for stealing this thing. If not and they are fully intending on stealing the device to sell or perhaps copy the plans. This could be corporate espionage. Wouldn't put it past Czerka to pull such a trick." He would say. "Then in that case.. we might be to late. Unlikely but.. its plausible." He added. Adara approached and handed him the Keycard and datachip, he gladly took them and slipped them into a pocket. "We'll put these to great use while we are here. One thing we need to do is to make sure we monitor the inbound and outbound shuttles and ships, if someone wants to leave they'll need to take one."

@Livgardist
@Stormthroe

 

[Stormthroe]

Rymann looked sideways at Jaron as he immediately began formulating a strategy to flush out the guilty party. It was clear to him that the man had experience far beyond Defiant Squadron, and was likely the most seasoned of the three of them. However, he couldn't place the extent of Khalen's own experiences based off his words as he spoke in turn, which also bore equivalent tactical insight. The Cat-alien was far larger than both of them, and no doubt stronger as well. Perhaps he was just one of the good-but-not-soft types, who only behaved like a soldier when it mattered. Rymann was ok with that fact; he didn't really have the desire to any of the talking, and it was good that someone else had accepted the chore for this mission.

The Mandalorian turned his attentions back to Administrator Adara as she replied to Jaron's and Kahlen's lines of questioning.

"Already done," she began with regards to observing the suspects, "None of the four have made any moves that seem to incriminate themselves thus far. That said, considering their positions of authority on board the station, they may not react as you expect to any kind of baiting technique. Our lead scientists are...not necessarily the most social beings. I will keep my security teams on high alert, regardless," she directed a criticizing eye at Khalen, suggesting some amusement given his casual behavior. "We of course, followed up on every possible lead we could, but my teams are already wrapped up in the duties we are required to perform to keep this station operating at peak efficiency. Perhaps, as part of your own investigation, you could research those individuals?"

Administrator Adara again began to address them as a group.

"As to the Skeleton Key, your man is correct; the weapon itself was not designed to behave as a weapon of mass destruction, and thus, did not require us to register it with military launch codes. Its unfortunate function was merely an accidental side effect of incorrect calculations within its original design, and considering its single use function, there was never meant to be a failsafe. It was simply expected to be activated, clear a breach through its target, and then fizzle out to make room for the boarding teams deploying it."

She paused, giving herself a moment to breathe, before continuing.

"Tracking the device's radioactive signature is possible, given its Tritium fuel source, but difficult. The station's hypermatter reactors give off a fair amount of background radiation, so while most of the vessel can be searched in such a way, our power subsector would still require another method of investigation. Our research labs also have the odd nuclear project that would impede the search, and then of course, the dry docks have faint traces of both solar and residual radiation from its open-void environment and our assembly equipment, respectively."

"Each of the suspects quarters, along with my own, were immediately searched thoroughly as soon as we realized the device was missing, as is standard operating procedure in the event of a security breach of this scale. We exhausted every possible effort during these sweeps, and whomever the criminal was, they were clever enough to cover their tracks, or at least, their allies were."

Khalen's direction to search the high-risk areas of the station only seemed to stir a squint of malice, or possibly, annoyance from the Administrator, which was quickly buried behind a stoic professionalism as she listened to the rest of what he had to say, followed by a nod of agreement with regards to the possibility of corporate espionage.

"We have stationed additional security teams in each of those areas, as we are very aware of the possibility of the device being used to cripple this station. If its errors were not corrected by the science team, then it would hardly matter where the device were placed to inflict massive damage, but we have taken precautions to prevent loss of life and resources in the event that upon activation, it performs its expected function only," she spoke slowly in reply, clearly somewhat offended by the thought that she did not know how to properly protect the investment of her superiors. However, the annoyance in her voice quickly passed as she continued.

"We have upped security in each of the hangar bays, and our command and control center," she gestured upward with her hand, indicating that the restricted area above the station, "Has increased their efforts tenfold to tightly regiment what vessels are able to dock aboard the station. No unauthorized landings except in the case of dire emergency, no unscheduled deliveries, and an off-station sweep by our security personnel if any sanctioned freighter is running more than five minutes behind schedule. Of course, the capital vessels of the dry-docks, both under construction and those docking for retrofit or resupply, are heavily guarded, either by my security or by the owners of the vessels whom are usually military from either your own Border Alliance, or another system allied with Abhean. Currently, the only functional capital vessel in port is the Immortal; a vessel originally built in this very shipyard and then purchased by the Sy Myrth government as part of their own military fleet. As far as I am aware, it is under the command of one Admiral Vect and here for the duration of a reactor refit. I will make sure he is made aware of what details are pertinent to the situation, but in the end, their actions are beyond my control."

Administrator Adara opened her mouth to continue speaking, but stopped short as if she'd been interrupted, placing a finger over her ear and gesturing for the three members of Defiant to wait a moment.

"Adara," she spoke. Rymann hadn't noticed a communicator on her person, and assumed she bore some form of implant that allowed her to keep track of her communications at all times. He fidgeted anxiously, waiting for her to finish her conversation; she nodded a few times, asking hushed questions about supply lines and assistants before she dropped her hand in a frustrated gesture. She inhaled deeply, composing herself, before turning back to Khalen.

"You'll need to forgive me, there are duties I must attend to. Spend as much time here as you need, and if need be, my personal com-line is included on that data-stick. I'd suggest you begin as soon as possible. Good luck."

With that, the Administrator turned and reopened the door, her security detail snapping up salutes before falling into drilled places behind each shoulder behind her. Before they knew it, she was gone, and the secure hatch whooshed shut and locked.

Rymann relaxed as soon as the door was shut and they were alone, moving further into the monitoring room. He looked at one of the terminals that flicked through vid-feeds of images from all across the station, seemingly mostly devoted to the dry docks. An image of the Immortal flashed on screen for a few moments; the vessel seemed much more sinister from the upward angle than it had on their approach, as if it were some bird of prey descending on the camera from above to carry it away and devour it. He leaned his rifle against the terminal as the image changed to some workers welding on one of the partially constructed vessels, taking off his helmet and resting it on the surface of the desk before pulling up a chair and sitting down. He looked first to Jaron, then to Khalen, before leaning back and tapping his fingers on the metal surface next to him. He jutted his jaw at the data-stick in Khalen's hand.

"Might as well start there," he murmured, still attempting to fully wrap his mind around the information that had been thrown at them, "See what we're up against."

@Livgardist , @Krajin

 

[Krajin]

Khalen seemed to listen a bit as she spoke and then headed out into the corridor. He pulled up his own Datapad and inserted the chip, letting it read up on everything inside and then began to display through the small Holoemitter on the corner with files on the individuals involved. "Hmm. These are the four fellows we can look into. How about we do a bit of research on them from here?"


@Livgardist
@Stormthroe

 

[Sangga]

The freighter had exited hyperspace with sufficient distance to activate a check, but enough to not be considered a threat. After a few exchanges the Captain swung it around into a hangar and the meeting party was moving to meet them. "Something is amiss... there is usually a delay in such basic checks... they like to lord it over people that the port authority is in control. When we disembark I want the camera rolling and for Miss Olan to be ready to start her opening." The freighter bore no signs of the opulence of it's luxury module, but as the supplies dropped, the access ramp extended and the news crew began to assemble, as soon as they were on the deck of the hangar, the perky and curvaceous form of Miss Olan set about standing before the approaching security troopers. Rix held back with the boom operator, behind the camera-Ithorian. His eyes darting this way and that, finally landing on the figures approaching them. Armed guards, and what looked like an Abhean Administrator? Such a response to a supply landing. They wouldn't have known that a news team were here this fast... something was very wrong here, he could taste it in the air.

"This is Ghista Olan for CNN News, reports have concluded that the Abhean government has been delayed for two months in it's vital work to support the Border Alliance. Other fiscal announcements have shown that the company has hemorrhaged considerable funds in the repair of several facilities. Speculation abounds as to what has been damaged, but to create such a loss in such a stable and once growing economy, it is the opinion of this reporter that it must be considerable. We seem to be being approached by a detail from the Administration, maybe they can give us some insight as to the happenings on this station."

Delicious... the reporter was one of the greatest 'personalities' that Czerka News Network had, she was famous throughout the sector, even more in this area as the Border Alliance correspondent. The perfect diversion to gain some insight to the bubbling tension this area was kept at. Just a simple report from one of the Networks data-analysts, but something that at least warranted a response, at worst this was a bit piece, with any luck a series that would shake the galaxy... and everyone would find out, thanks to Rix Paige and Czerka News Network.

 

[Livgardist]

Jaron, standing motionless leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, watched the Administrator leave without uttering a word of farewell. His mind was already working the problem that they had been dealt as part of their latest mission. One thing was bothering him, something his mind had already touched on before. He opened his mouth, and spoke his thoughts to the other two men;

"You are both aware of the political situation on Abhean. The system is on the verge of joining if not the Republic, then at the very least, the Border Alliance. There is division on the matter among the population. Elements that do not wish Abhean to integrate with the Border Alliance, elements that, I could even go so far as to say, sympathizes with the Sith. Our saboteur may or may not be one of them." He motioned his head towards the door from which the Administrator had just left. "She might be one of them." He held up his hand, stopping any comments, before adding; "I'm not saying she is. But I think at this point, we would do well to remember that as of right now, the only ones we can trust on this station, are in this room."

"I have a thought, gentlemen..." He continued. "I want to weed out the insider. We have four suspects. We need to rattle them, or rather, whoever is our leak." He closed his eyes as he spoke, as if thinking out loud. His next words confirmed this; "I'm just thinking out loud here, so if you have a different opinion or suggestion, feel free to interrupt me. When you're planning to steal a weapon like this, you know there's going to be heat. You know people are going to come search for you. So you make sure to keep everything compartmentalized. The less each cog in the wheel knows, the less risk of it blowing up in the mastermind's face. You don't ever trust a mole, a traitor, or an insider. If they are prepared to betray their employer, then what stops them from betraying you as well? So you use them...but you don't tell them anything."

He bit his lip for a moment, before pressing on;
"Whichever one of these four that was the insider, they will not know the full extent of this operation. They don't know who carried it out. They don't know who shut down security. All they have is the guarantees from whoever "recruited" them, that it won't blow up in their face. I want to rattle that illusion, rattle them, make them nervous and let them expose themselves. Perhaps by releasing an internal, classified security memo saying that a suspect has been apprehended...but then, whoever is running security will catch it, and the insider will not. No, that's no good."

He sunk into deep thought for a few, his eyes drifting to a nearby news screen, where Czerka News Network was showing scenes from... Abhean. Shit.

"Fucking vultures..." He muttered under his breath.

Then it hit him, and his eyes lit up.
"Maybe if we drag a suspect into the local garrison in front of the news cameras, our insider will see it. We'll keep his face covered up, let the CNN blow it out of proportions while leaving the insider with more questions than answers, let the reporter paint an interpretable picture for us. "Abhean Security has apprehended a saboteur suspected to be related to the recent series of sabotages that has taken place on the station." Or something like that. Then, we call - not arrest - each suspect to report to Security. We only tell them we need them to fill in some blanks, nothing specific. And then we observe each suspect, we wait and we see who first makes a mistake."

"And should they try to contact whomever they work for, or should they be contacted by the same so as to reassure them and make sure they don't panic, we will of course be listening in on all their channels of communication, and we'll know." He shrugged, looking at his comrades.

"What do you gentlemen think?"

 

[Stormthroe]

Rymann waited patiently as Khalen pulled out a datapad and began to display the information Administrator Adara had given him, and listened carefully as Jaron formulated a plan to lure out their suspect. It was a good one; the act of baiting a reaction from a guilty party was a well-used method of drawing out a culprit in this situation. However, Rymann still had many unanswered questions. The why, the how, and most of all, who was at the heart of this sabotage? With those thoughts on his mind, Rymann quietly rose and moved to look over the readouts Khalen had drawn up.

"Its a good plan," he said, his boots thudding softly as he made his way across the durasteel deck of the station, "find, or fashion, the puppet and follow the strings. However, we should get a good idea of who the culprit is before we make any moves to bait the target, whomever they may be; pulling a stunt at random may only solidify our real enemy's plans, and if Abhean is anything like Mandalore, accusing the wrong person in the process may leave the Alliance in poor standing regardless of the mission's success. The Protectors taught me a long time ago to find the evidence first, because powerful criminals can cover every trace of their existence if they have to. May I?"

Rymann looked over Khalen's shoulder, examining the information on Administrator Adara's data-stick. After a moment, he strode over to a nearby terminal and put in a quick series of commands. The holo-display nearby, serving as the primary readout for the security room, flashed outward in a scattering of digital cubes, before coming together to form four portraits; two humans, a male and a female, a rodian, and a bith.

"And I'd say these four, along with the Administrator, are the most powerful on the station in terms of authority and political connections," Rymann stated flatly. Reaching up, he politely removed the data-stick from Khalen's device, and plugged it into a port on the terminal, and after a brief second, the dossiers contained within displayed alongside the portraits of each of the Administrator's suspects.

Suspect Dossier
Project Skeleton Key

Name: Beema Karada
Statistics: Rodian female, 1.4 meters tall, from Rodia
Comments: Doctor Karada is the lead scientists in charge of starship systems integration. Her daily tasks consist largely of interfacing directly with in-progress starship development in and around the dry dock. A diligent worker, she is also a dedicated family woman, and she often puts in for time off to spend with her three adult sons, to whom she is the is their only living parent.

Name: Ty Yelliri
Statistics: Human male, 2.1 meters tall, from Christophsis
Comments: Yelliri is the chief lead scientist in charge of projects oversight. He splits his time between the various labs and giving briefings on the command deck. He holds authority over all of the research staff, including the other team leads included in this dossier.

Name: Kal Kesha
Statistics: Human female, 1.8 meters tall, from Kuat
Comments: Kesha is the lead scientist in charge of fabrication. She deftly manages the physical construction of production supply lines of projects, a talent for which she was recruited from her family's small arms production business on Kuat. Despite her talent, she spends very little time socializing with anyone on station.

Name: Essik Bopal
Statistics: Bith male, 1.5 meters tall, from Clak'dor VII
Comments: Bopal is the lead scientist in charge of testing. He oversees systems analysis and prototype trials. While initially brought into the Abhean organization as a favor to Administrator Adara, to whom he is a close personal friend from her days as a research student in the Inner Rim, he has distinguished himself as a brilliant researcher and moved up in responsibility accordingly.
​

"Where to start..." he asked himself quietly. The Administrator had given them access to every inch of the station, including personal quarters, for their search. Silently, Rymann wondered if the suspects had already been tipped off that they were searching for them. Perhaps even the presence of the team on-station would be enough to hasten the culprit's plans. After a moment of squinting at the dossiers, he returned to the console, inputting each name into the security system.

"This one," he said, pointing to the image of the human male on the display, "Ty Yelliri. According to the security data, he's incited several strikes over worker pay during the life of this station. And her," Rymann's finger moved to the human woman, "Kal Kesha. It might not be anything, but apparently there's a security incident report filed on her authority from a few months ago when a Republic envoy was here inspecting projects. I imagine the device was one of them." Rymann looked over at his companions, shrugging.

"The other two don't even register, at least not anything major. So..." Rymann, turned, leaning against the terminal and crossing his arms over his chest, "Where to first?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

Administrator Adara had quickly crossed the station after leaving the three Border Alliance soldiers behind in the monitoring room. Station control had informed her of an unscheduled inbound vessel under the guise of Czerka News Network, and during the time her security team had taken to perform its checks on the vessel, she'd had time to cross the massive facility and arrived at the hangars at just about the same time as the docking freighter.

Perfect, she thought bitterly. First, the project. Now I have to deal with reporters.

As the door to the hangar opened, Adara sharply snapped up a command to her security team to take positions at the door, continuing forward on her own towards the news crew who had already begun to unload their equipment. Almost immediately, they sprung into action, getting a camera rolling on another woman, who Adara immediately recognized as Ghista Olan from some of the holo-net reports she watched in between shifts from time to time. The reporter was practically a celebrity for her reports on the Border Alliance, although, not always on their authority. Administrator Adara tugged the bottom hem of her uniform to smartly smooth any creases, just as she reached the reporting team.

"Miss Olan. My name is Elima Adara, Administrator of this facility. Your presence on Utan Station is...unexpected. What can I do for you?"

@Livgardist , @Krajin , @Sangga

 

[Sangga]

His chromium framed lenses followed the administrator's approach and then he pulled out a communicator, holding it to his ear. Softly, and quite quietly. "Ghista, Ghista my dear, do not panic, just ask he the usual strain of questions, the who, the what and the why? Then I want you to ask her to explain the drop in their recent fiscal statement."

The young Twi'lek nodded slightly among those that acknowledged what Adara was saying. "Well Hello to you Administrator Adara. I'm here today to ask, on behalf of Czerka News Network, what is going on right now with the Abhean governments research station here in the Border Regions? You last two budget announcements have been worryingly... conservative? What has caused such a turn?" Little Miss Olan was working wonders and now he set about with his datapad, and began searching the comings and goings within the Border Alliance, the hunch was one that he'd wished to explore earlier, but the journey was far more urgent and he could check now. He skimmed through CNN's announcements, the official statements and then, there! A small addendum to a security report, a small task force had been sent to this station. His finger communicator was out and his excitement made his voice a little louder.

"Ghista, please ask 'why has a Commando team been sent to this research station, with it's prestigious security record?" This was proving to be more and more interesting as the conversation wore on.

@Livgardist , @Krajin , @Stormthroe

 

[Stormthroe]

Administrator Adara held her bearing as Ghista began her interview. She maintained a faint smile throughout the entire exchange; that was, until the Czerka reporter inquired on the members of Defiant Squadron, when her expression faded to a tight-lipped line.

"You will find, Miss Olan," she began, choosing her words carefully, "That our budget announcements, while conservative, are reflections of our station's self sufficiency. Since Utan Station, and its sister facilities, Beltin and Serap, completed their construction, we have been able to deflect some of the draw on the Abhean Government's capital to smaller, private corporations and shipbuilders. Numerous private contractors have begun to assist in the Abhean shipyard efforts, reducing the necessary budget to fund these facilities tenfold. Paired with our ability to construct military grade vessels at perhaps the fastest rate in the galaxy behind the shipyards at Kuat, and our budget reports can, most fortunately, maintain a low ceiling. At this point, our primary responsibility on these stations involves the cost of maintenance and Abhean staffing; the funding entity of each project we commission is expected to assist in the purchase of raw material, further eliminating a large amount of the reportable costs we must factor into our budget announcement. I am sure a corporation as large as Czerka is very familiar with the Abhean government's desire to minimize the operating costs of our orbital facilities."

Administrator Adara rose a fist to her lips, clearing her throat as she mulled over the best way to address the topic of the three members of Defiant Squadron that had only recently arrived. Czerka must have a mole, or at the very least keep an extremely close eye, on the movements of the Border Alliance to have known that the detachment was destined for Abhean. Even among her lieutenants, the Administrator had managed to keep the truth of their presence to a minimum, releasing the bulletin that due to the security breach, the three members of Defiant Squadron were a monitoring team to help protect the Border Alliance's assets on the station.

"The Border Alliance considers our shipyards assets deserving of protection, and regular inspection," she explained, formulating the facade to release as much information as to not contradict the information on the station, but also to hide the true intent of Defiant Squadron's mission, "Due to the nature of this particular station's research labs, both military and civilian, the Abhean government has asked for an additional team to help serve as security for some of our more confidential projects, pulling on our trade ties with the Inner Rim and the worlds making up the Border Alliance to do so. In addition, if it wishes to review our logs, Czerka will find that a number of Border Alliance and Republic envoys are sent to routinely inspect their investments on each of the Abhean orbital stations. The fact is, the members of this most recent team are each well-qualified junior officers of the Border Alliance, of whom, as I'm sure given your position as Czerka's Border Alliance liaison you already know, are often found among the Border Alliance's elite squadrons. My security teams are more than equipped to deal with the security of my station, Miss Olan, as I'm sure our security sweeps of your vessel upon your approach are evidence enough."

Administrator Adara allowed herself a faint, polite smile, pleased that her half-truth's would be sufficient enough to hold off further baying on behalf of the Czerkan wolves.

After a moment to let her words sink in, the Administrator added, "Perhaps, though, you'd care to see for yourself? I am very busy, but I can spare enough time to offer you and your team a private tour of our facility? I do believe the last news team to grace us with their presence was prior to the completion of this station, and never one as esteemed as Czerka News Network."

@Sangga

 

[Krajin]

Khalen flicked his tail as he watched the feed from the Czerka news network that came up and couldn't help but grin at the way this was about go south for them all. His attention went to the idea for their hunt and Khalen raised his hand to catch their attention "Well, you're all looking at this from a terribly obvious point of view. Look at what we have here. You've pointed out only two of the four people as potential suspects based off one being anti republic and the other incited issues with pay. What makes the others not worth it?"

He rolled his shoulders and looked to the holo-display and brought up a list of known acquaintances "Why don't we investigate all of them, ask questions and the like to form a better view of these people rather than going for the obvious people first and disregarding the rest."

 

[Stormthroe]

Rymann passed a sideways glance at Khalen as he spoke, then shrugged.

"The obvious is only a start," he explained, smiling in return at the massive cat-alien. Rymann turned back to look at the images of the four suspects. "Any of them could have a motive, I'm sure. I was simply saying to begin with these two," he gestured to the images of the two humans, Doctors Yelliri and Kesha, "Given their previous records on the station. We will make sure to have a clear target before pulling the trigger, ruus'alor."

Rymann flashed a sly smile, surprising himself somewhat due to the fact that he felt comfortable enough around Khalen's hulking form to joke with him. Ignoring the disturbing sensation of comfort that Khalen emanated, he then turned and analyzed the list of acquaintances the cat-alien pulled up on the holo-display. After taking a moment to commit some of the names to memory, Rymann moved towards his rifle and grasped it by the muzzle to leave, but on second thought, set it back down. Reaching up, he took his knife from where he'd sheathed it on his breastplate and tucked it under his utility belt, mostly obscuring it from view. He then grabbed his rifle and slung it over his shoulder, muzzle up, before turning to his companions.

"Ready when you are, ner vode."

 

[Sangga]

He rolled his finger in a circle as his arms were crossed, a slight gesture that contained a meaning tot he crew. He placed the communicator away and pulled out a datapad.

"That would be fantastic!" Miss Olan turned back to the camera, "Be sure to stay tuned for after the commercial break folks, we're going to get a first hand look at the inner-workings of one of the leading manufacture companies in the Border Regions, if not the entire Galaxy!"

The visually relaxed, Ghista pulled out a thin cigarra and began puffing away swiftly. The white haired human male stepped forward toward the administrator, the few CNN employees sidled aside to let him through. 'Administrator Adams, wasn't it. Charmed to meet you I'm sure, if we could start moving as the commercial brake will only last another three minutes, three thirty at best.' His hand signalled the direction of the door and he glanced to the assembled crew who began shuffling toward it, with or without the Administrator's consent. Soon he was seeping into the back of the party.

 

[Krajin]

Khalen got his tail up and onto his feet he went with a grin on his face. "Well then! No time to lose! I say we shall hit the rooms first, avoid the cameras and get some work done shall we?" He grinned wide. In a quick movement he removed his coat, turned it inside out showing off the dark red material with amber gold designs stitched in giving it a more upper class look. He put it back on and did up the straps that put it all together and looked like a quite smartly dressed individual. No weapons showing at all and he seemed to pull off a combined business-utilitarian look. "Off to the Dorms we go. Shall I lead or would you two like to, I bet one of you can read the map on a helmet. Or! I have my pad!" He waved it about and brought up the layout of the station on it.

Khalen stepped out into the corridor with a smile on his face, a bounce to his step and an air of energy to him that was welcoming and open to those around. Almost infectious maybe with the way he put himself to the task at hand!