Agent Procyon
Jan 21st, 2012, 05:28:24 PM
"Agent Procyon."
Though they had been hidden from view, two orbs of bioluminescent crimson revealed themselves from behind cobalt lids, and turned their gaze slowly to the uniformed figure that had uttered his name. It was a name given by Imperial Intelligence rather than the one given to him at birth, but he was content to let the Imperials use it: better that than listen to their butchered attempts at speaking his native tongue.
The officer who approached was human of course: anything else was a rare sight anywhere in the Empire, let alone here at the heart of Kaas City. He supposed that the Sith's attitudes towards non-humans should bother him in some way: for while the Imperials were less overt in their dislike of his race, Procyon suspected that it was only because the Chiss were more useful as an allied race than a conquered one, at least for now. It didn't affect him in the slightest however; he merely reminded himself that while every being who assumed they were superior to him was sadly mistaken, it was often more productive to allow them to continue labouring under that false belief.
Procyon rose from his seat, not needing any further explanation; the human offered it anyway. "Keeper will see you now."
The Chiss offered a curt nod, and a gesture for the Minder to lead on, but spoke no words. Another thing he had learned was that after generations of isolation on Dromund Kaas, much of the Empire's prejudice towards aliens stemmed from a fear of the unknown - the same fear that allowed the Force-sensitive Sith to rule so effectively. Procyon found that maintaining an air of distance and mystery could play into that fear, and would often work to his advantage.
As the Minder led him through the Citadel's command centre - the bustling hub of Imperial Intelligence operations across the Empire - however, he knew that the man with whom he was about to speak would not be swayed by such cheap tricks. He had only met the mysterious Keeper once in person, at his graduation from training. Procyon's alien nature had caught Keeper's attention, and even now he could remember the only words that had been spoken to him directly. His training officer had assured Keeper that Procyon had been raised as an Imperial since his early childhood, and that his loyalty to the Empire was without question. Keeper's response?
A pity. An agent with military training from the Chiss Ascendancy could have been something far more useful.
It was the same voice - clipped and formal, and with an insistant tone that while not harsh was clearly not to be disobeyed - that dismissed Procyon's escort, and left him standing alone with one of the most powerful men in the Empire. Procyon resisted the urge to snap instantly to attention, though there was only so much of his Imperial conditioning that willpower was able to overcome.
"Agent Assi'raas'samiyah." There was a subtle pause. "I believe I am pronouncing that correctly?"
Procyon was slightly taken aback. "Closer than most attempts, sir," he assured. Confusion quickly crept into his mind however, wondering whether it was a gesture meant as a concession to Procyon's culture of birth, or a display of just how much Keeper knew about him. He settled upon the benefit of the doubt for now. "Though in that context my core name - Siraass - would be appropriate."
Keeper seemed to ponder that for a moment, before trying the name on for size. "Agent Sirass," he echoed - as close an attempt as Procyon could realistically hope for from a human. He let out a single, calculated grunt of near-laughter. "I'm afraid my Imperial vernacular isn't quite cut out for so many rolling S sounds, so I'll stick with 'Agent Procyon' if you don't mind."
The Chiss offered a slight shake of his head. "Not at all, sir."
An awkward silence threatened to fall, but Keeper didn't allow it to persist for more than a few seconds. "In that case, I suppose we should get to the matter at hand. I presume you know why you are here, Agent?"
Procyon straightened at that, his vermilion gaze focused squarely at the wall above Keeper's head. "Following the failure of my mission on Hutta, I am here to be briefed on disciplinary measures and reassignment."
Keeper held Procyon in his gaze, eyes narrowing slightly as he scrutinised the agent's choice of words. "You classify the mission as a failure."
It was a statement, not a question; and one that Procyon felt compelled to agree with. "Yes, sir. While we did secure the data we were sent to retrieve, I allowed my team to become compromised, allowed undue attention to be drawn to a covert operation, and almost compromised months of preparation and planning."
"You allowed your team to be compromised?" Keeper echoed.
Procyon's response was almost instant. "Yes, sir. My team; my responsibility; my fault."
Keeper frowned a little at that response, allowing silence to fall between them again. "Your loyalty is admirable," he admitted, "But it would serve you better in the military than it will in Intelligence."
He turned away, selecting a datapad from his desk. It was an unnecessary gesture of course - Keeper had already committed all the relevant details from the report to memory - but he held the transcript before him anyway. "According to our comprehensive analysis, it was a combination of Agent Bellatrix's recklessness and weak local intelligence that compromised the mission; and your actions went a long way to ensuring that your primary objectives were still completed in spite of the complications."
"Agent Bellatrix was concerned that her cover would be compromised -" Procyon started.
"Yes," Keeper cut in. "And a body count resulted."
A sigh almost escaped, but years of practice working with members of the Dark Council helped Keeper to keep his frustration in check. "Assigning Agent Bellatrix to your team was clearly a decision made in error. There will be no disciplinary actions taken against you or your team; but you should all expect to recieve orders for reassignment shortly."
Procyon opened his mouth as if to protest, but a stern look from Keeper obliterated even the slightest thought of it from his mind.
"You are dismissed, Agent."
Procyon bowed his head slightly.
"Yes, sir."
Though they had been hidden from view, two orbs of bioluminescent crimson revealed themselves from behind cobalt lids, and turned their gaze slowly to the uniformed figure that had uttered his name. It was a name given by Imperial Intelligence rather than the one given to him at birth, but he was content to let the Imperials use it: better that than listen to their butchered attempts at speaking his native tongue.
The officer who approached was human of course: anything else was a rare sight anywhere in the Empire, let alone here at the heart of Kaas City. He supposed that the Sith's attitudes towards non-humans should bother him in some way: for while the Imperials were less overt in their dislike of his race, Procyon suspected that it was only because the Chiss were more useful as an allied race than a conquered one, at least for now. It didn't affect him in the slightest however; he merely reminded himself that while every being who assumed they were superior to him was sadly mistaken, it was often more productive to allow them to continue labouring under that false belief.
Procyon rose from his seat, not needing any further explanation; the human offered it anyway. "Keeper will see you now."
The Chiss offered a curt nod, and a gesture for the Minder to lead on, but spoke no words. Another thing he had learned was that after generations of isolation on Dromund Kaas, much of the Empire's prejudice towards aliens stemmed from a fear of the unknown - the same fear that allowed the Force-sensitive Sith to rule so effectively. Procyon found that maintaining an air of distance and mystery could play into that fear, and would often work to his advantage.
As the Minder led him through the Citadel's command centre - the bustling hub of Imperial Intelligence operations across the Empire - however, he knew that the man with whom he was about to speak would not be swayed by such cheap tricks. He had only met the mysterious Keeper once in person, at his graduation from training. Procyon's alien nature had caught Keeper's attention, and even now he could remember the only words that had been spoken to him directly. His training officer had assured Keeper that Procyon had been raised as an Imperial since his early childhood, and that his loyalty to the Empire was without question. Keeper's response?
A pity. An agent with military training from the Chiss Ascendancy could have been something far more useful.
It was the same voice - clipped and formal, and with an insistant tone that while not harsh was clearly not to be disobeyed - that dismissed Procyon's escort, and left him standing alone with one of the most powerful men in the Empire. Procyon resisted the urge to snap instantly to attention, though there was only so much of his Imperial conditioning that willpower was able to overcome.
"Agent Assi'raas'samiyah." There was a subtle pause. "I believe I am pronouncing that correctly?"
Procyon was slightly taken aback. "Closer than most attempts, sir," he assured. Confusion quickly crept into his mind however, wondering whether it was a gesture meant as a concession to Procyon's culture of birth, or a display of just how much Keeper knew about him. He settled upon the benefit of the doubt for now. "Though in that context my core name - Siraass - would be appropriate."
Keeper seemed to ponder that for a moment, before trying the name on for size. "Agent Sirass," he echoed - as close an attempt as Procyon could realistically hope for from a human. He let out a single, calculated grunt of near-laughter. "I'm afraid my Imperial vernacular isn't quite cut out for so many rolling S sounds, so I'll stick with 'Agent Procyon' if you don't mind."
The Chiss offered a slight shake of his head. "Not at all, sir."
An awkward silence threatened to fall, but Keeper didn't allow it to persist for more than a few seconds. "In that case, I suppose we should get to the matter at hand. I presume you know why you are here, Agent?"
Procyon straightened at that, his vermilion gaze focused squarely at the wall above Keeper's head. "Following the failure of my mission on Hutta, I am here to be briefed on disciplinary measures and reassignment."
Keeper held Procyon in his gaze, eyes narrowing slightly as he scrutinised the agent's choice of words. "You classify the mission as a failure."
It was a statement, not a question; and one that Procyon felt compelled to agree with. "Yes, sir. While we did secure the data we were sent to retrieve, I allowed my team to become compromised, allowed undue attention to be drawn to a covert operation, and almost compromised months of preparation and planning."
"You allowed your team to be compromised?" Keeper echoed.
Procyon's response was almost instant. "Yes, sir. My team; my responsibility; my fault."
Keeper frowned a little at that response, allowing silence to fall between them again. "Your loyalty is admirable," he admitted, "But it would serve you better in the military than it will in Intelligence."
He turned away, selecting a datapad from his desk. It was an unnecessary gesture of course - Keeper had already committed all the relevant details from the report to memory - but he held the transcript before him anyway. "According to our comprehensive analysis, it was a combination of Agent Bellatrix's recklessness and weak local intelligence that compromised the mission; and your actions went a long way to ensuring that your primary objectives were still completed in spite of the complications."
"Agent Bellatrix was concerned that her cover would be compromised -" Procyon started.
"Yes," Keeper cut in. "And a body count resulted."
A sigh almost escaped, but years of practice working with members of the Dark Council helped Keeper to keep his frustration in check. "Assigning Agent Bellatrix to your team was clearly a decision made in error. There will be no disciplinary actions taken against you or your team; but you should all expect to recieve orders for reassignment shortly."
Procyon opened his mouth as if to protest, but a stern look from Keeper obliterated even the slightest thought of it from his mind.
"You are dismissed, Agent."
Procyon bowed his head slightly.
"Yes, sir."