- Joined
- Nov 11, 2010
- Messages
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Royston Spektor tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the luxury space yacht he was traveling on to drop from hyperspace. He wasn't usually one to grow impatient from space travel, but there were a few mitigating factors.
First of all, his destination was in the middle of nowhere, clear on the other side of the galactic disk from his typical haunts in Imperial Space. That meant, of course, a painfully long travel time.
Secondly, all of this time in hyperspace - and thus cut off from the rest of the galaxy - was stressful for a man in his position. Things were heating up again, and Roy didn't like being out of the loop.
It was worth it, though, for the mission he was currently on. If all went according to plan, not only would it benefit the Imperium but it would also add a few more zeroes to Royston's bank accounts; that's what is called a win-win situation for a man in Roy's line of work.
The spymaster looked around, appreciating that at least he wasn't alone. Not that his company , if it could be called that, was made up of stirring conversationalists. Roy was undercover for this assignment as...himself: a ludicrously wealthy businessman. In keeping with that illusion, and to help later stages of the operation he was embarking upon, it had been agreed that he should be accompanied by "private security." In this case, that meant a small but deadly group of plain-clothed storm troopers.
A sort chime sounded through the lounge of the yacht, signaling their imminent exit from hyperspace. Roy quickly made for the bridge, getting there just as the whirl of light solidified into solid points of light, and a rather ugly looking planet.
Without being prompted - Roy nodded his head in satisfaction at that - the pilot immediately opened a hailing frequency with the Orbital Traffic Control station.
"Verkuyl Control, this is the private yacht Dividends requesting landing clearance. Additionally, please advise a hailing channel where we may contact BactaCo HQ directly."
Roy clapped the pilot on the shoulder to show he was satisfied, then headed back for the lounge to make sure the men were ready.
It was time for Royston Spektor to show off what he could do. He may not be the strongest or scariest Sith out there, but that didn't matter in a boardroom. In that environment, Roy was the top of the food chain. And he was particularly hungry today.
First of all, his destination was in the middle of nowhere, clear on the other side of the galactic disk from his typical haunts in Imperial Space. That meant, of course, a painfully long travel time.
Secondly, all of this time in hyperspace - and thus cut off from the rest of the galaxy - was stressful for a man in his position. Things were heating up again, and Roy didn't like being out of the loop.
It was worth it, though, for the mission he was currently on. If all went according to plan, not only would it benefit the Imperium but it would also add a few more zeroes to Royston's bank accounts; that's what is called a win-win situation for a man in Roy's line of work.
The spymaster looked around, appreciating that at least he wasn't alone. Not that his company , if it could be called that, was made up of stirring conversationalists. Roy was undercover for this assignment as...himself: a ludicrously wealthy businessman. In keeping with that illusion, and to help later stages of the operation he was embarking upon, it had been agreed that he should be accompanied by "private security." In this case, that meant a small but deadly group of plain-clothed storm troopers.
A sort chime sounded through the lounge of the yacht, signaling their imminent exit from hyperspace. Roy quickly made for the bridge, getting there just as the whirl of light solidified into solid points of light, and a rather ugly looking planet.
Without being prompted - Roy nodded his head in satisfaction at that - the pilot immediately opened a hailing frequency with the Orbital Traffic Control station.
"Verkuyl Control, this is the private yacht Dividends requesting landing clearance. Additionally, please advise a hailing channel where we may contact BactaCo HQ directly."
Roy clapped the pilot on the shoulder to show he was satisfied, then headed back for the lounge to make sure the men were ready.
It was time for Royston Spektor to show off what he could do. He may not be the strongest or scariest Sith out there, but that didn't matter in a boardroom. In that environment, Roy was the top of the food chain. And he was particularly hungry today.