Farewell to a planet called Home

[Director Isard]

(this is a closed RPG that only concerns Intel members, but if you think you have reason to be in it, please contact me at madam_director_isard@hotmail.com and we can talk about it

The time is shortly after TGE had fled Coruscant after the GJO attack on it)

__________________________________________________ __________

Imperial City on Coruscant lay bathed in the evening's dark-orange glow. Shuttles were busily flying through the narrow corridors between buildings, and the streets on most layers of the city were crammed with people out for the night, or doing their shopping.

In one of the quieter areas not far from the Imperial Palace, in a layer of the City that was only rarely visited by anyone except the more adventurous types of people, a gang of rodian street-kids were playing in one of the old office buildings that had been scheduled for destruction many years past, but had for some reason been left forgotten. The empty corridors and rooms seemed to echo with the voices of a forgotten past, but nothing but the hungry cry of an old hawkbat answered.

The kids weren't bothered by the gloomy atmosphere of the building - in fact, they had made it their secret base of operations. There always was something interesting to talk about, or booty to share when one of them had managed to hit upon a particular wealthy victim. The building had been their shelter for a long time, a place where they were safe from the local militia who was constantly on the look-out for the little thieves.

This day, they were just getting settled in, with a tankard of lum someone had managed to rob from an inattentive vendor, when all of a sudden, out of the gloom of a corridor nearby, stepped a ghostly figure wrapped in a dark cloak. From underneath its hood, only the eyes were visible - which were sweeping a malevolent glare across the dimly-lit room.

Greyish strands of hair had escaped from underneath the cloak, and the cold breeze sweeping through the old building made them flutter outwards. 'A witch!' thought one of the frantic children, who had never been as scared before in their entire lives.

The figure raised a long-sleeved arm, and stretched out a bony hand. With a flicking motion of her fingers, she addressed them in a ghoulish whisper.

"Run..... run, little children! .... Run for your lives!"

As the horrified rodians raced as fast as they could out of the building, they could hear a manic cackling behind them that made their skin crawl in terror.


Ysanne Isard raised her hands to the hood of her cloak, and swept it back. Standing for a moment looking at the scattered possessions of the children, she smiled to herself. One last time, she had come up here to watch the city around her - the city that had always been her home. One last time, she had come to see the sun set on Imperial Center, before it was forever removed from her eyes.

Climbing up crumbling stairs, she went on until she reached the top of the building that hid a part of the Intel base. Standing at its very edge, she leaned against the wind, looking into the sunset, memorizing every single second of it.

For 30 years, this had been her home. But living deep down inside the Intel base, in recent years she had felt like she needed to go outside to feel that she was still alive. Looking at the cityscape around her filled her with a peacefulness she had only seldomly allowed herself to feel. Whatever happened in the future, it would never be the same, could never be the same.

As the last deep-red rays of the sun finally dissappeared behind the ragged horizon, Ysanne closed her eyes, one last time feeling its warm glow upon her face. Then she took a deep breath, and wiped the tear that had formed in one eye away wiht a gloved hand.

It was time.

Decisions were made, preparations were underhand - now it was time to bring everyone back and plan the relocation of the Intel Headquarters to a planet much more remote and away from all the danger that every minute more they spent on Coruscant presented. Too much fighting for the spoils of the long-standing war between Rebels and the Empire, between Jedi and Sith - it was not safe anymore to leave the Intel base on its homeplanet.

The messages had been sent out to every Intelligence Agent in the field, and even the deep-cover agents had been put on an alert. Now they would have to wait for everyone to return, so that the final plans could be made to move the Headquarters to a hidden base on an outlying planet in the Thring sector.

Ysanne Isard returned inside.

[Mali i Qel Vena]

"Hmmm, what a nice home you have here, Vigo Tarroght."
Said Mali i Qel Vena, the Imperial Intelligence Operative. It had taken her some time to work her way up to this level of Black Sun, masquerading as a Human Replica droid named Guri. Of course, no one knew that she was really a human, and the masquerade was helped even more by a few implants from Dr. Quill.

"I knew you'd like it, my dear."

Finally. All these years of sneaking being in the right place at the right time, and performing certain......favors for members of the crime sindicate were going to pay off. Now, if she could only bring her services to the attention of Lord Xizor....

"Would you like some wine?"

Her train of thought collapsed. Did he want to sleep with her? Of course he did. That was perhaps the only reason he had called her up to his private quarters. She was no Jedi, nor an Anzati or a Devaronian, but she generally knew what was going on in the minds of men, or....perhaps their smaller, more heavily concealed minds. That was what made her so good at this job.

"Selonian Emerald Wine?"
she asked.

"Selonian Emerald Wine? Why, that is quite strong. Are you certain you'd be able to take it? The Selonians are known for having a higher blood level, you know. Your blood would have too high a concentration of..."

"Is that a yes or a no? Vigo, you sound like a protocol droid!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I keep rambling to myself from time to time, but that's how it sometimes happens, what with my old age and all."

"Yes, I know. However do you get on at the age of thirty two? It's surprising that you haven't fallen dead as of yet!" She said, a bit of a smile creeping up on her face.

"Enough of this bickering, Mali! I'm an old, old man. I need to get my rest. Can we retire yet? An old man needs his sleep, you know."

Men. Retire. Pah! This one was certainly not the brainiest, even considering the general stupidity of them.

She was about to submit to him, when her emergency comlink went off. This was no ordinary comlink, of course. No ordinary comlink would have been able to get past the security screens at the entrance to the Vigo's palace. This comlink had been implanted near her cheekbone by none other than Dr. Quill. It was quite subminiature, of course, and it did not beep like other comlinks when attention was warranted. It merely sent a micropulse to her nervous system, alerting her of the comlink call. If nothing else, that Dr. Quill certainly did excel at his work.

"Just a moment, dear. I need to freshen up first." She lied.

"That sounds like fun, my dear. May I join you?"

As I said, they always think with their second brain.

"Of course not. I'll freshen up, and then I'll be all yours, Vigo."

She headed to the refresher station.

The comlink was set up so that even the tiniest pulse in her vocal cords would be registered. She could be heard clearly, even if she whispered, or mumbled, by the person on the other end.

"Yes?" She inquired. The message had to be important, as this operation was most delicate. Too delicate to be interrupted.

"Child, where are you? Mommy has gotten a bit of a sickness, and we need you home."

My god. This was it. Something was wrong at the intel base.

"Is father alright?" she whispered.

"Oh, father is fine. Just get home quickly. We need you."

Mali walked out of the bathroom, striding quickly.

"I need to go. It's an emergency."

The groans of the elder being were left behind as Mali rushed out of the palace.

[Mali i Qel Vena]

OOC: Signature wasn't working so here it is.

[Gormul Hyfe]

Deep inside the bowels of Imperial Intelligence Head Quarters, R&D specialist Gormul Hyfe sits in a relaxed position in the tech lab, a few weapons parts scattered around him, as well as several different blue prints that any regular person would not even be able to begin to comprehend. Perhaps Gormul is in a bit TOO relaxed a position, because his head lies motionlessly on a workbench, his eyes closed, and a bit of a wheezing sound coming from his body. Gormul Hyfe is sound asleep.

All to little has been happening for him lately. He knew the instant he signed up for this job that it would be a bit lacking in the field of action... but it had been over a week now since he had done ANYTHING at all interesting...

While Gormul Hyfe WAS INDEED an expert in the field of weaponry and many other technological devices, sitting around for hours on end designing new gadgets and updating simple weapons to serve specific functions wasn't exactly his idea of fun. While he had had a fiew previous assignments which were slightly entertaining, such as refitting an R5 unit to do some rather interesting things for a certain Sith group, and tinkering with some speeder bikes he had seen outside... (oh wait, noone knew about that yet...), he had been waiting long and hard for some real action.

Earlier that day, Gormul had heard from Isard that they would soon be holding a meeting about the relocation of the Intel base. 'Doesn't bother me...' Gormul had thought to himself when he had gotten this info, just like his reaction was to most of the other info he had gotten in the past few weeks.

He had pretty much the same feelings about the situation now as he had then. But maybe this would be a chance for something big to happen after all... So there Gormul Hyfe lay, sound asleep, waiting for the other Intel agents to return to base so that the final stages of planning could be finished, and the first stages of actually relocation could commence.

[Qourr Mhawat]

'Damn, damn, damn! Does it have to be just now?'

Qourr was just about to pick up on two Devaronians who had been trying to get their hands on her all evening, and she'd been looking forward to a little bar-brawling. but now she'd been recalled to the base, and all fun for the night was written off.

She looks at the tallest one of the Devaronians, and a wicked grin emerges on her face. 'Hehehehe...maybe not all fun....'

As the Dev' finally manages to wrangle past his two companions, and with a leery look, puts his hand on her shoulder - just barely touching her left breast - she finds the opening she has been looking for.

With a sudden forward move of her right arm, she grabs the Dev's collar, and pulls him forward. Kicking her high chair back from where she sat on it until then, she turns slightly sidewards, until her left arm connects with his body, and then rams her left elbow into his chest. Her opponent loses his grasp on her arm, and she delivers two fast blows with her right hand into his face - knocking his head sideways; then she pulls him towards her again, and, turning her back to him, jabs her left elbow up until it connects with his chin. As he flies backwards propelled by the blow, she quickly trips his leg up with her own, then grbs it with her hand and pulls it up towards her.

The Dev comes to land on his two accomplices, who look slightly befuddled at her sudden attack of their friend. She quickly grabs her half-full glass of lum, drains it and throws a couple of credits onto the bar.

"See ya guys -was a real pleasure meetin' ya all!"

Before any of them can get up and mount any sort of counter-attack, she grabs her coat, and leaves the place at a fast run, heading for the nearest shuttle-bay back to the palace district.

[Dr Quill]

Quill was so engrossed in his work, he barely noticed the commlink signal. He peered at the results in confusion once more, but this was his third run through. There was no mistake. There was some small thing distinctly non-human in the sample of Isard’s blood, acquired at such painful cost.

“It had to be,’ he thought. ‘There’s no instance of red eyes outside of albinos, and she is no albino! That would explain why old Armand never let out a word about her mother.’

He was about to go search his databases for possible matches when the persistent signal cut through his concentration.

“Damn that witch,” he said aloud. “She is forever interrupting me! If she’s thinking of sending me on another fragging mission with that oaf Oludh, I’ll tell her to dance with a wookie!”

His face became a little more serious after he read the message, though. This looked important. He filed the test results in his hidden databanks, and closed off his lab with its personalized locking mechanisms.

With a last look around to be sure he’d left nothing for prying eyes, he left his quarters to meet with the director of Intel, and more of its agents than he had ever seen before.

[Jekaan Oludh]

Jekaan is arranging the seatings inside the Director's office, humming to himself - a little ditty he made up for one of his fake holo-vid messages. 'If all works out well, and no one runs into any probs, they should all be here soon. I wonder where Isard's hiding?'

There hasn't been any sign of the Director of Intel for the last three hours. Which is unusual, because these days she only rarely leaves her office, or the building. 'She's been becoming increasingly erratic recently - and I doubt it just has to do with the drinking. I wonder what's going on in her head?'

But Jekaan has long given up trying to second-guess her. Once, it might have worked, back when the two of them still had common interests and goals, but that seems a long time ago now.

<font color="#cococo">~~~~~~"Mind if I say so, but have you lost your head completely??? We've found nothing like the evidence you say we have, but you just think you can waltz up to the Emperor and get him to have good ol' Armand executed based on this???"

Jekaan stared wide-eyed at his partner, who sat unperturbed and with a cool contemptuous look in the co-pilot's chair and plucked some hairs from her grey military uniform with a leather-gloved hand. In the other hand she held the datapad listing the "evidence" - fingerprints and other traces of the presence of Garm Bel-Iblis, once Senator, now believed dead. That was all there was, and she was confident that it would be enough to base her claim on about her father's "rebel sympathies".

Ysanne Isard, Field Operative for Imperial internal Security - or Imperial Intelligence, as it was better known - let a smile slither across her lips. She reached a hand out and patted Jekaan's knee.

"It will be enough, Jekaan; you have nothing to fear. When I'm done with him, my father will be a crumple in the Emperor's palm. And I will sit in his chair."

Jekaan tried to do his best to look confident, but if there was one person in the Galaxy he had come to fear - and hate - then it was Armand Isard. Long had the tow of them been waiting for this chance, but now Jekaan wasn't sure if Ysanne wasn't going about this too fast. One wrong step, and instead of seeing their ambitious dreams come true, they would end up dead for sure.

But she just smiled at him, full of confidence, and Jekaan couldn't do else but hope that all would turn out for the best. After all, if they would succeed, it meant Armand's tyrannical rule over them was over, and his life would once more be safe. One had to accept dangers for an outcome such as that.
~~~~~~</font>

Those were different times. The Emperor was long since dead, and Armand Isard, as his daughter had predicted, had ended up as hawkbat-fodder deep down in the city's lowest layers. Life had taken on a different meaning for Jekaan afterwards.

Jekaan is looking around, checking if all is in place, when Isard sweeps into the office, wrapped in a dark cloak. She takes in everything at one glance, and nods with satisfaction. Handing over the cloak to Jekaan, she walks over to her private bar, pours herself a glass of brandy, and sits down behind her desk.

"What do we do now?" her assistant asks her, feeling slightly uncomfortable at having nothing left to do.

"Now we wait, Jekaan. Now we wait."

[Lucious Zaarin]

It was a bright, sunny day. One of those chipper days that didn't occur all too often on Honoghr. The sun was shining bright, and the Noghri were all in abnormal chipper moods. A new piece of land had been cleared of waste. Life was good for the noghri, and for the New Rebublic workers slaving away to expand the Clean Lands. There was only one word that could describe it from the eyes of a former Imperial Grand Admiral: and that word was hell. Imported birds flew alongside the Talon I Cloud Cars, happy Noghri females galavanted around, cooing their babies. "Look at me," were Zaarin's thoughts. "Look at me, a strong, courageous man with enough brains to rebel under the Emperor's very nose. The man who was responsible for designing countless starships, technology. The man who had decieved Thrawn into false belief in his "victory" over me. Look at my perfect record of cunning and skill, now all this has been flaunted by a grunge job meant for sabeteurs, not for fearless leaders! Bah!" The man was in utter disbelief that he had been sent to do such a demeaning job. Turning back the noghri would only be semi-important for the Imperial Inteligence Headquarters, and Zaarin knew that he could be better put to work elsewhere. Damn Isard, and her misplaced ethics! Couldn't she see the greater plan, couldn't she see how utterly pathetic it was to insult so great a man by forcing his to throw on a shabby tech's jacket and slap on a New Republic insignia? Zaarin didn't like this infiltration work, a common quote of his had been, "Why work off your own ass, when you can send legions of men in to do it for you?" Isard and Jeekan had better straighten out their act, or there would be problems.
<font color=red>Beep-beedle-eed-beedlebeep-beedleeep!</font>
"Now, who the hell is contacting me on my IIHQ comm?"
"*static* Chhhh. . Zaari-, -his ischhh I--rd. chhhhhhh Cor-ca-t imm-diately. Outchhhhhh."
"What the hell? Why is she contacting me here? She knows the schedule, it's far too dangerous to contact me in the middle of my work string. It sounds like they need me back on Coruscant, though, and thats better than this hellhole."

Zaarin meandered off, not suspiciously at all, until he entered the docking bay where his YV-666 was stowed away. He pulled out what a hydrospanner and sauntered over to the only two guards, standing right next to eachother. The ran up to him.

"Wassa matta, techie?"
"I need to fix up the port wing on that YV-666 over there."
"Okies, techie. Anytink ewse?"
"Yeah, could you open the flight gate over there? It's hot and stuffy in here."
"Sowy, techie, neva rules did say we could do dat. Anytink basides dat?"
"Ya. Say his to Grand Admiral Il-Raz down in hell, would ya?"
"Huh?"

Zaarin lifted the hydrospanner, and let it crash onto that guars head. He then kicked the other guard in the gut, and droped the hydrospanner, extending two hands to snap that guards neck, which he does. He picks up the hydrospanner, and bruttaly beats the blacked out guard on the floor to death. He then runs at top speed to the YV. A ramp goes down, which he runs up, and he charges the engines. He fires a high-yield proton torpedo into the flight gate, destroying it, and bursts out of the bay. He flies up, encountering a pair of Talons. He fires his dual lasers at the first, hitting a fuel tank and detonating the ship, and then he fires a uncussion missile at the other, which goes right through the windshield, detonating inside the Talon. Zaarin smiles slightly to himself, and exits Honoghr's atmoshpere. The man's hand punches in Coruscant's coodinates, and he enters hyperspace for the planet. . .

[Dr Quill]

Quill stalked through the corridors barely conscious of the bustle around him. Isard had been acting strangely recently, and now this call for all agents to meet at IIHQ. Something big was up, but he’d be damned if he could figure it out.

His head spinning with his guesses about Isard’s plans and his recent experiments, he walked right into a large man carrying an exotic rifle. With barely a thought, he brushed Quill into the wall as he strode past. Feeling another bruise forming on his shoulder, Quill cursed Isard for the millionth time. “Damn her and her fragging schemes anyway,’ he thought. ‘If I had access to half of what I can get here, I’d even join the GMA!’

Stopping outside Isard’s office, and quaking a bit from the memory of what had happened the last time he had been here, Quill took a deep breath and entered at the signal. No one had arrived yet but the odious Jekaan Oludh, to whom he gave a wide berth, and Ysanne Isard, with whom he refused to make eye contact. He slunk over to a seat in the back and fell into it.

After an embarassed silence, Quill began to fidget in his seat. He looked at Oludh and thought to start a conversation, but one glare from the old man shut him right up. A glance at Isard, and he knew an attempt at idle conversation would be a big mistake. With a sigh he settled in for a long wait, and put his mind back to musing on his recent experiments.

[Mali i Qel Vena]

Walks into the Director's Office and takes a seat.

[Director Isard]

A low, repeated tapping noise disturbed the silence. Ysanne Isard glares at Jekaan, but her assistant shakes his head slightly and points over his shoulder at the Doctor.

Somewhat unsettled at the thought of the Doctor being here so early, Ysanne hasn't looked at him or spoken to him directly since he arrived. Now she manages to put on a cold and sinister expression, and glare at him hatefully.

The tapping stops.

Isard nods at the Doctor. "Thank you."

[Kasarax Targ]

*Kasarax Targ finished reading the message, and slowly rose from his chair. Something was going on, though what he couldn't tell quite yet. He stepped out from behind his desk, and went through the large doors into the combat training hall. His boots echoed through the hall, as Kasarax made his way to the end. He stepped out into the hallway, and headed towards the Director's office. A woman ran past him, knocking him to the wall. He turned to say something to her, but she was gone. He straightened out his uniform, and continued on his way. He arrived in the Director's office, and noticed Dr. Quill, Jekaan, and Madame Isard waiting there already. Kasarax stepped over, and leaned against the wall beside the door, waiting for the others to arrive.*

[Qourr Mhawat]

Having taken the Shuttle to the palace, Qourr got out a stop before it, and took one of the turbolifts down into a layer that seldom got any visitors. In fact, she could only access it by prying off the metal plate from its position over the last 5 numbers of layers to choose. No one really ever wanted to go that far down, and if there were any who did, they were pretty much suicidal. Having screwed the plate back on before exiting, Qourr left the lift at layer 3, and fished out a glowrod from her bag.

The trail she followed was a recent one, and one that led over century old rubble, over streams of foul-smelling refuse and finally into a low-ceilinged concrete tube. On the ground, twin rails ran - the last remnants of a shuttle train that used to run through this place, centuries ago. Now they were half sunk under by the muddy grey-green sludge that had accumulated on the floor over past centuries, dropping from the ceiling and running down the walls.

Qourr had found this place soon after joining Intel, when she had been snooping around the back of one of the store rooms. It was fairly certain that no one else knew of this way out, and also certain that if they did, they probably didn't live anymore.

The corridors were home to a strange beast that looked like a cross between mutant rat and fish: a 2-meter tall quadruped with huge fangs, brown eyes, a long tail and scales. Qourr had never heard anyone mention them before, so she called them simply fishrats. They were dangerous, faster than anything she'd ever seen running, and their tongues stung with a particularly nasty poison. And they smelled rotten.

Slowly moving forward step for step, anxious not to make too much sound, Qourr crept forward through the warren of tunnels. The beasties were natural stalkers, moving at incredible speed with a stealth and in a silence that was admirable. If it wasn't for the rotten stench they gave off, they'd be hard to detect.

All in all, they had proven the only real fun and excitement around ever since she'd joined Intel.

Qourr sniffed the air - hadn't that just been s slight swishing sound off to her right? All she could hear was the silent drip-drop of the water falling from the ceiling. Then, suddenly, she caught a whiff of foul air. 'Damn, that's cuttin' it close!' She sprang aside.

With a low growl, and a mighty splash, one of the carnivorous beasts landed on the spot she had just vacated, and rapidly turned its fanged mouth around to snap at her.

That was one move too many, and Qourr got the ugly thing right in its mouth, blasting away its brain from the inside. With a mighty crash, the thing fell over.

Then the rest of the pack was upon her, and Qourr would have had a hard time, if it wasn't for the fact that the huge beasts were not only hungry, but also very stupid. They just needed a taste of each other's blood, to start devouring each other. All Qourr had to do was somehow to detangle herself from the knot of scaly arms and legs, stand aside and take pot-shots at the beasts while they were doing their best at eating each other. Whenever she felt like a little exercise, she'd leave two of them alive, and have a little go at them. They were fairly easy to beat, as long as one kept out of the reach of their tails.

Ten minutes later, Qourr arrived at the back gate of the store room, once again happy with her life, and ready to face the rest of the crew. 'Gods, how boring they can all be - don't they ever do anything but sit around and talk?' Wiht that thought, she walked off to her own quarters, to freshen up and get ready.

[Sniper Tondry]

As Qourr passed through a particular alcove, a passing man in a blast vest took note of her condition. "Always fighting, aren't you Qourr?"

Qourr stopped to size him up. "Is that a challenge, Tondry?" she asked with grin.

Tondry grunted, shrugging himself out of the vest. It had obviously seen use recently. "Maybe later, maybe not," he replied. "Just got back from another mission and I have a few kinks to work out. I'm heading down to the infirmary to get patched up. Tell Isard I'll be along."

"The legendary Tondry actually got hurt?" Qourr stated in mock amazement. "You might actually be interesting to spar with."

"Vac-seal it, Mhawat," Tondry growled, shouldering the vest. "I'll see you in the meeting hall."

Quorr walked onward, leaving only the smell of sweat behind her. After she'd gone out of sight, Pierce took the gate out of the storeroom that she'd come in from. He walked down the winding maze of corridors that Qourr had unknowingly cleared for him and took the turbolift up to the shuttle's landing pad, making sure to re-attach the metal plate which Qourr- 'Sloppy amatuerism.'- had forgotten to do.

It wasn't hard to guess why Isard was calling everyone in. Pierce had been with Intel long enough to know that only a few things rated a total activation call, a change in headquarters being one of them.

Which meant that Intel HQ was about to leave Coruscant for somewhere less tempting, and that Tondry would be saying goodbye to the planet he'd called home for the past fifteen years.

Reaching the edge of the landing pad, Pierce took out a small igniting device. The view wasn't so bad up here. You could almost ignore the fact that the planet was Republic-held.

Taking a cigarra from inside his jacket, Tondry lit it and thought about things.

EDIT: Corrected the spelling of Qourr's name.

[Lucious Zaarin]

The oddly-shaped YV-666 made its way through the jet black backdrop of hyperspace, overlapped by streaks of starlight. At the helm was the crazed former Grand Admiral, Lucious Zaarin. He was a fallen star, a mere shadow of his glorious past. He had once been a tall man in a crisp white uniform, with those amazing green eyes that could make a person feel as though they had known him forever; and yet know nothing of him. He had always been the model leader, one who would bend to the orders of a surperior, and yet make it seem that it was all his doing.

This did not, however, please the Emperor. He was a man hollowed by the power of the force, a mere shell with no soul. It was not him that commanded the legions of men, who groveled at a chance to die for they're Emperor: this destitute "force" handled that. Being one of the few in the galaxy knowing this, Zaarin had felt this gnawing feeling of distrust in this Dark Power. He had seen similar things: his own guards could use the interesting power of "Enachi". He himself didn't fully understand more about this whimsical tool besides the fact that it was power: possibly too much of it in the hands of a rabble of guards. Under the carapace of the armor was an empty shell, both the guards themselves and the Emperor had the same evil feeling to them. Zaarin knew that the order and philosiphy of the New Order would fall apart under the heavy yoke of this unconsidered power: this forgotten spoke in the wheel of time and power. No longer would he be the agent of this parasite aura, he had decided. No longer would he ally himself with the likes of Grant and Il-Raz, his main nemesis' in the navy . . .

He decided to commit his little rebellion, and went off in a blaze of glory. Palpatine, shocked at this coup d'etat, promoted the alien Thrawn to take Zaarin's Grand Admiral rank, and as a test sent the Chiss out to destroy the traitor's mini-empire. Outnumbered and outwitted, the man broke. In a last ditch effort, he falsed his own suicide. With nothing left to his name but a broken mind, he limped off in an old, broken down YV-666.

The following years had been a blur, memories of sitting alone at the bar, sipping away at cheap Tolarian whiskey came to mind. Memories of the odd jobs he did to earn enough money for the next shot of alchohol. Memories of drunkenly boasting to anyone who would listen about his glorious past, and memories of them laughing in return.

Then a suspicious man had entered the bar, using the name Oludh. Hearing this, and remembering the InSec agent of old, Zaarin had strugled up and limped over to greet the man. Oludh, or Jekaan, as was his first name, ofered Zaarin a second chance; a free shot at glory once again.
With a handshake, a bond between Zaarin and the Empire reformed. . . .

So, forward through hyperspace the decadent YV frigate lumbered. Through hyperspace, bringing Zaarin back to his true home for the first time in years. . .

[Alik Jerriko]

He had been sitting there for a long time that day. The suns had gone down, one after the other, hours ago, and the land had been cast into darkness.

The oncoming darkness was like a beacon to all the scum of the town - it drew them closer, beckoned to them with a singularly intelligibly call: "come out from your dark spots and gather in the cantinas and cafes and make your scummy deals there"

Yes, it was his favorite time, too.

As he swept his gaze across the mingled crowd of aliens and humans, took in the scents of their bodies and the feel of their soups, he could not hide an arrogant smirk.

'Oh how would they fear me if they knew what I was - how would they cringe from my touch, run from my stare... not a singular being in this place deserves even to have me feast on their soup.'

But he was there for a purpose. A purpose that at first had seemed strange to him. He was there to spy, to discern the purpose of others. Strange, because he had never been paid for it before.

On many a low-life creature's soup had he feasted recently - no one of better quality had come. But he had needed sustenance, he had needed...soup. Any soup. And ultimately, anything was better than starving just because one was too choosy.

His gaze passed the entrance of the cantina. And Alik Jerriko, brother of Dannik the infamous Anzati Assassin, had to raise a hand to his mouth, to hide the twitching of his face as the proboscii lying hidden under his skin reacted strongly to the scent of the new arrivals' soup - JEDI!!!

One Jedi! Here! On Mrisst! So strong and vibrant a soup! He could feast tonight - a feast worthy of one such as he! He would feast on the Jedi's strong soup, he would draw out the sweet agony until the Jedi's soup was all his, he would---

No. He would not. He could not.

He would need to follow the Jedi, discern his purpose. A Jedi never went anywhere without a purpose, a reason. And he, Alik Jerriko, Anzati Assassin and Spy for Ysanne Isard, was there to find out about the purpose, the reason.

Suddenly, he saw a red glowing light inside his left eye. In response, he closed his both his eyes. This meant a call from "mother" - via one of the ingenious devices that the Intel department had implanted him with. Now that he had closed his eyes, he could read the short text that his bio-mechanical eye "wrote" inside.

Five minutes later, having paid the inattentive barkeep by leaving a couple of creds on the bar, Alik was on his way to Coruscant.

[P Tarkin]

"After what I'd been told, I expected someone....younger!"
Said the alien sitting opposite Tarkin. His brownish green dreadlocks hanging over his shoulders. The two were sat in a dark corner in a bar, near the docking bays to the mining colonies.

"We frail old men have our advantages Iggnoor." Tarkin smiled, his lips cracking ever so slightly.

"Do you have the converter?" The alien asked in his rasping voice.

"Yes Iggnoor. That was part of the deal! And you have the information chip for me?"

The alien smiled. Or at least, Tarkin thought it was a smile.
The alien handed Tarkin a handkerchief, tied in a knot.

"You'll have to open it for me," Smiled Tarkin, a gleam in his eye, "My hands can't do what they used to."

Iggnoor laughed out loud and untied the knot and spread the cloth open for Tarkin. The info-chip was contained in a small see-through plastic box.

"excellent!" Tarkin licked his lips in anticipation and nearly rubbing his hands under the table.
Just then a waiter came over and handed Tarkin a small box. "For you sir!"
Tarkin eyed the small box and pressed on the singular black button.
A message appeared, written in code: "Return to INTEL ASAP. This message will self destruct in 45 seconds." The message faded.
Tarkin's face formed a broad smile and he focused his attention on the alien opposite him. "An info chip for a converter my friend!" And Tarkin handed the alien the small box.
"I presume you know how to use it?" Tarkin asked, sneering in a most polite manner.
Iggnoor grabbed the box and stood up: "Ofcourse I do old man. Nice doing business with you!"
The Alien was gone before Tarkin was out of his chair.

As Tarkin left the bar, heading towards his private craft, he could hear an explosion a few streets in an opposite direction. He got out of the way as the para-medics rushed to aid the injured.

[Qourr Mhawat]

Qourr was hoping she'd be among the last ones to arrive, but apparently, once she had received the reply to enter the office, she found only that strange little Doctor and Jekaan there. And Isard, who sat silently, even a little... resignedly... behind her desk, hands folded on the tabletop before her, a glass of water - or at least it looked like water - within reach, and a holographic display unit nearby.

All was quiet - Jekaan looked at her when she entered the room, but Isard didn't seem to have noticed anyone arriving. And when Qourr looked at the Doc, his eyes were strangely glassy and he seemed faraway.

'I wonder what someone like him is thinking... maybe he's mentally taking apart some alien or something...' A pleasant little shudder of revulsion ran down her spine at that thought. She could just imagine the little man dipping his hands into some alien's body, ripping out organs and such, in a laboratory full of shelves with glasses with preserved eyes and brains and stuff like that.

'Now, Isard - that's a strange one. I wonder what she's thinking... so cold and arrogant her look, but she also looks... vulnerable? ...to me today.'

Ourr sat down and pondered some more about these people whe had been thrown together with.

[Alik Jerriko]

As he walked down the corridors of the Intel base, it struck Alik that something was strange about this building. It reminded him more of the interior of a ... of a ship, possibly. Had someone taken the insides of a ship and built them into a building? The panelling and floors certainly looked like it, and the smell... the corridors smelled of machinery, a residue odor of oil.

It certainly intrigued him.

The furnishings got richer, as he came closer to the Command center. Polished red wood replaced the drab durasteel wall panels, and the floor took on a dark red and black mosaic pattern. The glowrods seemed to burn more brightly, and the air was fresher.

Overall he sensed only weak energies around him. 'Imperials!' he thought, 'weakest brains of them all. No spirit, no...energy!'

In actual fact, he had to admit that here, within Intel, possibly resided the only interesting Imperials he had ever met - which had been one of the reasons he was now working for them. But no - he wasn't working for 'them', he was working for one only: Ysanne Isard. That woman was one of the strangest humans he had ever met, and for an Imperial, her soup was extraordinarily strong. He wasn't even sure if she was fully human - indeed he had never met any human species that sported red eyes.

She had approached him through several other people, had hunted him down to a shabby little tapcaf on Mrisst, and somehow managed to recruit him into Intel service.

He still was not too sure what exactly was his value to her, but what she bid him to do seemed nothing different from what he had been doing all his life - watch people, spy on them, snoop around. Who was he to complain about getting paid for what he would have done anyway?

The door to the office swept aside as he walked up to it. 'Motion sensors,' he thought, and stepped inside.

He wasn't the first to arrive, that much he could see. Leaning against the wall was a human male, young, of strong build. A fidgeting small human male was sitting on a chair, staring into nothing. Nearby sat another female, draped lascivously over her chair in an irritating manner. On the other side of the room sat, by herself, a young human girl, watching her surroundings wide-eyed and with a refreshing naivetee.

Isard herself was sitting stiff-backed on the chair behind her desk. She acknowledged him with a nod, and gestured for him to take a seat.

He sat down near the young girl, who started looking him up and down with an open curiosity that made him nervous. He quickly turned his back to her, and finally noticed Isard's assistant lurking in a dark corner behind her.

'I have seen him before,' he thought to himself, somewhat bewildered, but he couldn't remember where he had seen that strange man. 'No matter, I will remember sooner or later.'

[Dr Quill]

Quill was not comfortable in crowds. He had always felt small and lost because of his end-of-the-bell-curve size, and there were very few he could discuss his interests with, anyway. Now he was trapped in a room with a growing number of people whose sole bond was ambition, idealism, deviousness and cunning. Becoming more discomfited as the agents entered the room, he stole glances around him at the uncommon types that made up the elite of the Imperial Intelligence.

On one side was a classically beautiful woman. A femme fatale, whose ruthlessness was obvious to him, but probably well hidden to her chosen target until they had become completely ensnared in her deadly schemes. She favored Quill with bared teeth when he looked her way.

Across the way sat an innocent-appearing young woman of wholesome good looks (but unusually developed musculature, he noticed) who had entered the room with the grace of a cat looking for a mouse to play with. Her sneer at him would have shriveled his pride, if he had had any.

Leaning casually against a wall was a young man with an insolent grin for the doctor when he caught Quill looking his way. Quill almost moaned at the thought of escaping this room and returning to his vials and instruments, but this meeting was highest priority.

A strange male of indeterminate species sat by himself in the back of the room, seemingly oblivious to those around him, but he would swivel his head around towards each of them occasionally and mutter something about “soup”. Quill was sure he’d never let himself end up alone with that one!

Isard had not deigned him with a moment’s thought since he had arrived, and Oludh was so obviously hostile he preferred to keep his gaze well away from where the master spy lurked in his shadowy corner. Quill wondered idly if Oludh had changed into a freshly laundered uniform this week, but then put it out of his mind. The thought of their journey close-packed in a small ship was almost too painful to reflect on.

Quill’s impatience and anxiety grew until another man entered the room holding a device suspiciously like a powerful concussion grenade, which he was studying intently. Quill’s eyes grew wide as the man, who Oludh greeted as Hyfe, and the explosive he carried, plopped into at the seat next to him.

Quill’s voice rang out unnaturally loudly in the small room. “Can we get on with this?”

[Lucious Zaarin]

<font color=red>BOWP! BOWP! BOWP!</font>

Zaarin's foot twitched, and suddenly he had adjusted his position from leaning, asleap, in the pilot's chair, to a perfectly straight upright position. His eyes flashed open, and he quickly scanned the bridge. This was not good. . .

Each of the eight red glowrods was blinking on and off in extremely rapis succession, the warning moniter BOWPed about once a second. Suddenly, the door behind him snapped shut, locking him in. Suddenly, another blue glowrod, located above the holoprjector, began beeping, indicating that there was an incoming message. "Accept message," Zaarin grunted. "Hello. This is Lo Khan of the Hyperspace Marauder. And this is my assistant, Luwingo," spoke a cheery voice.
"Yaka," Zaarin sneered, seeing the captain's cybord co-pilot. "What do you want?"
"Not much. I'm just hoping that you have some valuble cargo for me. You see, life comes with a price."
"And what do you boast? Of course, like all pirates, you have a 'fleet' right around the bend that's going to come in and try to destroy me if I don't cooperate, I'm sure. That's how it always is with you scum."
"Pirate? Pish," Lo Khan's throat rumbled oddly. "I am not a pirate, nor do I boast a fleet. I am a smuggler, simply out to make a bit extra money."
Zaarin growled. "A smuggler, eh? I just ran a diagnostic on your ship, and see that you only have a pair of Penetrator Lasers. I, on the other hand, have a side-firing high yield proton torpedo shaft on the port side of my ship, and you happen to be right in their way." It was a bluff, of course, but life was like a game of sabaac; a bluff could be easily extract a large victory. "Heh, you fool. The Marauder has quite an unusual computer system. You see, we can sieze control over other ships, and we have already done so with yours. Weapons: disabled. Engines: disabled. Hyperspace multiplyer: disabled. Airlock: about to be opened. Life support will remain intact if you hand over any money and goods, NOW!"

Zaarin closed off the conversation, and crept off to stand next to the door, his trusty E-11 in hand. When the airlock swished open, he delivered a crisp two stunrays at the beings boarding his ship. The blue circles quickly felled down the Yaka and the Human, and Zaarin boldly stepped into thier ship. He got in the pilot's seat, closed the airlock, and drove off- disabling the YV-666s weapons and hyperdrive on his way out. He entered hyperspace, and once again was en route to Coruscant.

It was quite late when he arrived. He set down his new ship on a very secure landing platform- well, it was more of inside a warehouse. He pushed a few buttons, and lowered the ramp. He waddled out briskly, and got in a taxi-like vehicle. Minutes later, he got off, and walked over to a large group of his assosiates . . .

[Director Isard]

Disturbed in her contemplations by the loud voice of Quill, Isard looked up, and took in the small group of people gathered in her office. She had never before seen all of them in the same room - some had been undercover for months, years even. Neither did they all know each other.

Some of them they had recruited directly from other Recruitment centers; some they had snatched up from among the crowds - some others she had approached herself, following reports and gossip. She had only rarely been wrong in her judgement of who would be a valuable asset for Intel. The failures had been flushed out.

There had been a few close calls, but again she had been lucky, as they had been noticed and eliminated before they could do too much damage.

Some of her best agents had been called for, and were now gathered here. This was the elite of the elite, so to speak.

Not long ago, the foundations for this plan had been laid, and it was now time to act upon it. But the plan needed the input of of her agents and some of their expertise and knowledge of certain areas and certain people. Without them all working together in this, the plan would come to nothing. And "nothing" was not acceptable.

The small assembly was still missing one or two agents - noticeably the absence of the one man she had been observing most during the recent months: Pierce Tondry, the Sniper. He seemed to think another show of his insolence towards her was adequate in this situation.

Indeed, the disrespectful Sniper had managed to deflect almost every attempt to discipline him in that matter. Maybe she secretly admired his courage he showed by defying her. She didn't quite know why she had not tried to discipline him in the same way as she had done to other agents like him before - she wasn't certain she understood her own reasoning in his case anymore. But now she had found just the right way to pay him back for his insolent ways - he would not be able to maintain this independence he had reserved for himself in the future.

'Enough of idle thoughts!' she chided herself. This was not the time to brood over the behaviour of one agent - it was time to consider all of them.

From the corner behind her, Jekaan spoke up.

"Madame Director, I think it is time to start this meet---"

[Lucious Zaarin]

Hello, my comrades! At last, we meet again!!

[i]Zaarin began running up to his fellow IIHQ members, when suddenly a startling fact occured to him; these were complete strangers. Children. Most possibly a posse of troublemakers, considering they were all wearing blue bandanas and had a mean assortment of weapons in hand; hydrospanners, pieces of pipe, a few vibro-blades. Even a blaster or two.

Zaarin uttered a certain four letter word, and began backing off. The kids (there were five) began closing in, a few slapping their weapons into thier hands menacingly. Zaarins backward walk picked up its pace a bit, until he had half turned around and was blindly running for the first vehicle that would pick him up. The gang kept up thier unceasingly steady pace, until Zaarin tripped over a piece of trash and almost fell of the platform. He immediately pulled himself up and stood, waiting to put up at least some slight defense. They ran at him, possibly not noticing how close to the edge he was. He deaked out all five, and accidently tripped one, who fell over the edge. He didn't die slowly, though- he hit a flagpole on the way down, and it snapped his neck.

The others gazed in shock, and only one, possibly the leader, dared step forward. A burst of pride ans courage made Zaarin Pick up the boy and throw him off the edge, as well. That one completed the whol 250 floor drop until a sickening crunch ended his fall really fast. The remaining three backed off-real fast.

Zaarin clasped his hands together happily, and quickly boarded an incoming transport. It dropped him off at a platform almost identical to the one he had just been at. It had been the similarity between them that had messed ol' Zaarin up.

He meandered over to a certain place on the metal floor, and lifted it up. He extended his hand and grabbed a hidden lever, and a hatch suddenly opened. A narrow staircase spiraled down, and Lucious cautiously tapped the first step. Deeming the steps safe, he quickly ran down, closing the hatch behing him.

It was a long few minute, trampling down that staicase. In the light of his two recent victories- the capture of the Marauder and the defeating of the gansters, he was a bit lightheaded, which may have been the cause of his missing a step. He fell down, down, and down, and it became quite usual for his head to hit a stair. After almost a minute of this hoorific expirience, he saw the end of the staircase close by.

What he didn't see, though, was that the bottom of the staircase had hinges, and was a hatch. He careened into this hatch, and it bursted open, and he fell, half conscious, onto Jeekan Oloduh's desk. The last thing he heard before passing out was "to start this meet---". . . . Seconds later, he awoke, a see of faces gazing down at him . . .

[Sniper Tondry]

"That's not something you see every day," Pierce Tondry stated as Lucious Zaarin came crashing down onto Isard's desk. He let go of the door handle and stepped all the way into the room. Some looked back at the newcomer, others took his appearance in stride.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized, holding up the arms he'd bandaged earlier. "Had to get something to patch myself up."

He stepped off to the side and folded his arms across his chest. Was Isard really going to move the HQ? He'd know soon enough, because someone was waving smelling salts over Zaarin's nose to wake him. Still, whatever was coming Tondry knew he could put aside his pensive mood to make important decisions.

Just for today, anyway.

[Director Isard]

With raised eye-brows and barely contained anger, Isard scrutinized
the scene on the desk and beyond it in front of her.

Jekaan was administering smelling salts to the dazed ex-Grand
Admiral sprawled on her desk, while Tondry walked in with bandaged
arms and quietly took a seat in the front row of chairs.

She wasn't angry at Zaarin - indeed, she had not even been
sure that he would attend - but at Tondry for coming late and
so quietly. He looked unusually contemplative, and a bit...odd,
maybe. As she watched him closely, something of her anger at
him bled off and changed to concern.

She rarely sent
him out on missions that weren't of the utmost importance to
the Imperial Nexus and to Intel. If Tondry was in a mood like
that, something must have happened. Neither would he be injured
to such an extent if there was not some grave danger of a kind
- he was good at what he did.

But right now, she could
not remember exactly the nature of the mission she had last sent
him on - there were other things on her mind. Besides, she would
have his report sooner or later. It was enough for now that she
was worried.

As Jekaan had finally managed to bring
Zaarin back to some of his senses, and help him off the desk
and onto a chair, Ysanne Isard stood up from her seat, and thumbed
a button on the console beside her.

The illumination
went down until only the lights coming from the flickering consoles
behind her remained. The holoprojector unit at the side of the
desk thrummed into action, throwing up a bluish globe that held
several planets in the Coruscant system, and the main planet
itself.

As her eyes swept over the assembled agents,
she took in the fact that two or three still were missing, but
that was to be expected - some of them had to travel quite far
to reach civilized worlds again.

She put her hands on
the desk, and leaned forward to address them all:

"Long has Imperial Center been just that - the center of the
Empire, and its backbone. Government and Military have been staging
their campaigns for millennia from this planet onwards, and it
is the heart of the Galaxy - or our Galaxy.

Imperial
Intelligence was proud to share that tradition. We made our home
here, near to the Imperial Palace, and have always staged operations
with this planet as our base. It has been a fortunate time for
all of us.

That, now, is at an end. Coruscant is no
longer the safe haven from the scourge of the Galaxy, from the
Rebels and Jedi fighting for scraps of this planet with one of
our greatest opposition - the Galactic Empire under the command
of Lord Gue."

She paused, and leaned further forward,
looking at each agent in turn wiht a molten stare of repressed
anger and hate at the events which had led her to take this choice.

"One of our agents has learned of the imminent
attack on Coruscant (http://pub2.ezboard.com/fswvstitanicstarwarsroleplayingarchive
.showMessage?topicID=2499.topic) by the
Greater Jedi Order. They come to take Imperial Center not only
from the traitorous Imperial faction calling itself TGE, but
also from the Imperial Nexus, and that means, from us.

Imperial Center is no longer safe.

Remaining on Imperial
Center poses a great risk to us all, and to limit that risk,
it has been decided that the Headquarter of Imperial Intelligence/
the Internal Security Bureau will move to a location that is
not only remote from attacks that force our hand to defend ourselves,
but also well-defensible.

Therefore, Intelligence Headquarters
will move off the planet, and into a sector you will not need
to know by any other name than Hailstorm for this operation.

Please consult the datafiles on each of your personal
datapads for exact details of each of your missions."

She paused again, to give each agent time to digest this
news. But not for long. There would be a time for questions,
but that time was not now. She had more announcements in store
for her agents.

[Dr Quill]

‘So that’s what this is all about. We’re leaving the old Imperial Center,’ thought Quill.

He stared at Isard for a moment as she paused, and could see the strain on her face, the tension in her posture. He remembered when she had come to see him ten years earlier. She seemed much younger, and some might even have thought her beautiful, if not for the hardness in her soul and the ruthlessness that shone through her eyes.

It had been shortly after his fiancée had died at the hands of pirates while travelling back to Coruscant for their wedding. Oludh had tried to recruit him a year earlier when he had finished his doctorate in Alien Physiology and Toxicology, but he had rebuffed Intel’s offer, opting instead to join the faculty of the Imperial University as their youngest full professor. He had much prestige and full funding, it was a researcher’s dream. Instead it had turned into a nightmare as his life, and his soul’s mate, were blasted apart in the cold deeps of space.

Isard had come to him then, in his most vulnerable state. “You can strike back at them,” she had promised. In his misery and his rage he had thrown away his promising career to go with Isard, to work his revenge on pirates and other enemies of the empire. He had found joy in the interrogation of helpless subjects and in the ruthless experimentation on aliens and, illegally, humans alike.

‘Who was I,’ he thought, ‘before I came here with Isard?’ He had never truly enjoyed giving pain to others when he was young, but goaded on by the cruel mistress of Imperial Intelligence he had learned to assuage his inner pain through the agony that he had inflicted on others. With each dying victim he built up another layer on the hard shell around his heart against the misery that he would always feel.

‘What have I become,’ he thought, ‘when my only real option is to flee for my life with a woman I can only despise, because in her I can see the evil depths of my own soul?’

‘Someday, I will have my revenge on you too, Ysanne Isard,’ he vowed in his deepest thoughts, ‘for what you have made me into.’ It never occurred to him that at that point he had lost all hope of redemption, and had truly become what Isard had intended to create when she brought him into Intel all those years ago.

His attention snapped back to the present as Isard prepared to speak again.

[Xao Shedim]

The room had just fallen into a hush immediately after Ysanne Isard's announcement, every person present deep into contemplation over the ramifications of it. For a brief few moments, the silence was near deafening. And, as such, only a handful of the people present were able to pick up on the faint mechanical hum that seemed to be coming from just a few feet outside the door. Sniper Tondry casually glanced towards the doorway, just barely picking up on the sound in time to see the door slide open with a whoosh of air. He was taken a bit aback as he saw the figure that entered just then: it was the 'droid Bounty Hunter he had spoken with just a short time ago. What in the bloody blue blazes was he... it doing here?

His feet stomping on the ground in a rhythmic series of thuds, Xao Shedim walked in a perfect line to stand before Director Isard. Raising one metallic hand to his visor, he gave her a two-finger salute before falling back in line with all the others.

"Xao Shedim, Special Operations Commando, reporting."

His voice unit was clearly in need of repairs or possibly even an upgrade: his words came out as hard, curt, and absolutely synthetic sounding. Most 'droids these says had voices that could easily pass for human. Or any other creature, for that matter. But then again, Xao Shedim wasn't exactly a protocol 'droid, either.

His 'face' was little more than a visored mask, making it impossible for him to even pretend to express emotion. And it proved quite befitting of his former employment. There are few things more frightening than a man who would kill someone in cold blood: a machine that did the same without expressing so much as gratification in the act was one of them.

But for a 'droid, he certainly did seem to have an ego about his work: he wouldn't hesitate to proclaim his superiorly over any "organic" in the same line of work. It got tiresome after a bit, but his employers never complained. After all, he was almost as good as he claimed.

But even 'droids foul things up, now and again. And his last foul up had a set a rather large group of authorities on his tail. He had to call in quite a few favors (And he now owed a couple of them to some unsavory characters, as well), but he had managed to get in contact with a certain high-ranking Imperial who promised to take the heat off of him... if he would make his services exclusive to the Empire. How could he refuse?

[Director Isard]

A startled expression stood on the faces of most of her agents. Of all the things in the galaxy, a droid in the employ of Imperial Intelligence was hardly something usual.

Ysanne Isard raised a hand, and indicated for Shedim to take a seat... take a stand, whichever he wished, with the other agents. The low hum of excited voices died down as quickly as it had started.

Her eyes half-closed as she leaned on her desk, she hesitated another moment. Her gaze finally fell on Tondry again, and she felt a certain satisfaction at the brief show of surprise on his face as he digested the news of the droid joining.

He met her stare unflinching, but she could see the questioning of her motives behind his cool demeanor. To her own surprise, she broke the eye-contact first.

"Some of you have had misgivings before, about this location of the Intel Base. Those of you have never understood what made Intel command cling to this Base for such a long time, in times that got more and more dangerous as the situation around us deteriorated.

I can now inform you that we have had our reasons for a prolonged stay. We are sitting inside the greatest asset Intel has - a training base and communications facility unlike any other in the galaxy. And what is more - this base is a mobile one.

We are sitting inside the Super Star Destroyer Lusankya, buried beneath layers of Imperial Center's cityscape. When we lift this ship up and through the shields, when we break her out and lift her to freedom, we take with us all the material and information databases that make Intel so good at what we do."

Fire flared in her molten left eye.

"Know this: whatever happens in the coming hours, days, months even - keeping this ship in one piece is absolutely vital. The safety and security of this ship is of the topmost concern. And I would have of you the best effort you can produce."

She straightened up behind her desk, and pressed her hands together, fingertip to fingertip, as her expression sharpened.

"Do not for one single second assume that I am content to leave matters on Imperial Center as they are, in the hands of the enemy. Do not assume I give up this precious soil on the most prized possession in the Galaxy, without having a reason for it. If you do assume such of me, you will find yourself at a level with our enemies, who will always be unable to fathom even the most obvious of plans."

As she clenched her fist, a razor's edge entered her voice.

"While I am content to leave Imperial center to our enemies to fight about and for, I do not intend to make their stay pleasant. They might expect they are fighting with high profit and little loss for the crumbs the TGE left, but we will be the knife in their side that goes deeper and deeper the safer they think they are."

She slammed her fist into an open palm.

"Imperial Center needs slashing and burning. Not just to teach the opposing forces how wrong they are to assume they are under control, but also to teach the citizens of Imperial Center and important lesson about loyalty to pretenders like Gue and his band of treasonous cut-throats."

A thin grin tugged at the corners of her flatline mouth.

"I have determined, therefore, to leave behind a small force of Special Operations Commandos. They will operate in teams as needed, and will take orders from and report regularly to the person I will leave in charge of this operation."

Again she paused, letting the silence in the room grow heavy. Again, she let her eyes wander from the face of one agent to another, reading surprise, anticipation, nervosity, almost a full range of possible expressions there, except for the droid, whose "face" remained the same as it had always been. It seemed the only one not meeting her eyes was Tondry; he had a faraway look in his eyes - which only rekindled the fury she had felt at him on his arrival. Could it be that he was not even listening?

[Director Isard]

"Agent Tondry!" she snapped at him, finally.

To be rewarded by the sight of him visibly jolting upright in his seat. He even showed enough manners for once to stand up and assume a somewhat arrogant salute.

"Yes... Sir!"

Her eyes narrowed.

"I find myself in a somewhat curious position regarding your person, Agent Tondry. On one hand, you have shown great skill at any mission you got yourself involved in - a skill that deserves every praise, I am sure.

On the other hand, you are insolent, disrespectful - you have a tendency to ignore or mis-interpret orders which are not to your liking. You have, it appears, grown a certain amount of independent spirit, and I am inclined to crush you for having done that."

She tapped a finger against her chin, in a mock show of indecisiveness.

"I had not yet decided upon the person I would sit like a spider in that web of defense on Imperial Planet, but it occurs to me that you would serve very well in that capacity. This spirit of yours speaks very well about your ability to act independently on my behalf."

She had expected him to show anger, frustration or even shock, but his expression remained unperturbed. She let a smile slither onto her own face and hoped that would shake his own expectations of her reaction to his calm acceptance.

"Pierce Tondry - to you I not only pass on the responsibility" - she accentuated every syllable, knowing that a man with this fierce an independent spirit the word alone had to sound like poison - "for the defense Imperial Center, the Heart of the Empire, but from this moment onwards, I declare you second in command of Imperial Intelligence."

Her voice dropped to a husky near-whisper as she leaned forward towards him.

"Ward both your charge and your position well, and the glory that was Palpatine's Empire will once again shine forth to illuminate the Galaxy."

[Sniper Tondry]

Pierce blinked. For the first time in years, he was feeling nothing less than complete shock. First, the fact that he would be effectively abandoning the position he'd been given as Tau Team leader due to the forced responsibility of second in command. Then, there was the fact that Isard would promote him to so prominent a position, also that his skills merited such a move.

So many little things were assaulting him all at once.

But if anything, Pierce Tondry has proven himself to be a master of utilizing little things. If his ability has pursuaded Isard to make him a General directly in charge of the Coruscant division of Intel, so be it. The only question left is whether or not people will follow his lead.

Of their own volition, phrases and images surfaced. The respectful nods given to him by Tau Team on their assassination mission. The tone in Jekaan's voice as he delivered the announcement of Tondry's promotion in his quarters after "the Endor situation". Even the look on Isard's face after his first mission for Intel.

He turned from Isard's gaze and glanced over the assembled people. From Quill, to Shedim, to Hyfe, to Zaarin, to Qourr...

"The legendary Tondry actually got hurt," Tondry remembers her saying. "You might actually be interesting to spar with." That was as close to respect as Qourr ever got.

And looking at them now, none of them has any form of dislike or disrespect on their faces.

He can lead them.

"Very well, Director Isard," Pierce replied seriously, returning to look at her. All the arrogance fell out of his posture; he couldn't take things nearly as lightly as he used to. Unfortunately. "I formally accept this promotion. If my skill is truly as good as the position merits, then you ought to start looking out for your own job because that's where I'll be knocking next."

A satisfying flicker of fear flashed into Isard's eyes. He allowed his usual insolent grin to slide into place and banish her unease before moving off to the side of the room to allow everyone to focus their attention. "Please continue, Madame Director," he stated solemnly. "I assume that you'd like us to get on our missions as soon as possible, so my promotion shouldn't take up too much time right now. Anything else you'd like to add before we go get ready for action?"

[Director Isard]

Isard's eyes narowed to mere slits and with no small amount of venom in her voice she cut into Tondry's thoughts.


"Your skills are adequate for the purpose, Agent Tondry. No more than that. It would be a great shame to squander them on false ambitions - I would not like to have to execute you if you do not perform your duties satisfactorily in any way."

With that last warning, she dropped Tondry's gaze and turned an icy calm stare onto the rest of the agents.

"Agents Hyfe, Oludh, Zaarin, Targ and Urza - a new recruit who is going to join us shortly: you will be the small force of able soldiers following the Lusankya off this planet. Zaarin and Oludh - it is your responsibility to guide the ship off and away from Imperial Center.
You will establish a connection with external contacts whose comm channel you shall receive, at a point and location you will receive upon successful clearance of the planet's Gravitational field. You will also wait to rendezvous with the other agents, before leaving the system completely.
With these contacts you will arrange for the take-over of the new base's planet, and, if possible, its entire system or sector."

Her gaze came to lie upon Hyfe and Kasarax Targ.

"You two, Deliete and agent Urza, will be provided wiht additional vessels to leave the planet with. Once you have cleared the shields, the co-ordinates for the rendezvous with the Lusankya will be transmitted to each of you, regardless of your status, and you will have 2 standard hours to comply and meet with the ship. Once back on board, you will be given new orders."

Targ nodded and she could read the worry in his eyes - worry about the reason he had not been considered for on-planet duty.
But where Targ showed worry, Hyfe threw her a smug and self-satisfied grin. Had his vaunted Sith powers shown him what the future would bring him? It was difficult to understand this man. He was a genius at what he was doing, but his uncanny ability to second-guess her wishes and desires was a thing she found unpleasantly disturbing.
But for now, there was little she could do about it other than leave him do what he was best at. Time would bring other choices before him... and she would make sure that she had something to do with the less pleasant ones he would have to confront.

"The cells, or teams, remaining on Imperial Center will be chosen by Agent Tondry, as relevant for the situation and mission they are to be sent upon. Each team should not have more than 3 members, depending on the quantitiy and quality of their skills. Carry inmind that for the future, we do not only have the liberation of Imperial Center from the hands of the New Republic in mind, but also the training of our agents to ones skilled in all areas of expertise. Team members will therefore take great care to learn from each other. The three main skills required in a team are therefore Demolition, Intrusion and Encrypt, one of which each of you is already a practised hand at."

She registered a few frowns here and there, but no one tried to argue the point - as expected.

"For this mission, however, the teams will be as follows:
1. Tondry, his agents, Deliete and Dr Quill: TAU team
2. Thule and Malone - 2 new agents: BESH team
3. Qel Vena and Jerriko: ISSK Team
4. Mhawat and Shedim: OSSK Team
Each team's objective is being transmitted to their datapads now."

The frowns had turned into open consternation on the faces of the Anzati and Qel Vena, and Mhawat did not look particularly pleased about her new partner either. On Quill's face stood an amusing expression of combined shock and surprise - the cowardly doctor probably felt horrified awe at being placed with Tondry, and in such a high profile mission.
Tondry himself did not look pleased, but answered Isard's silent question with a shrug. There would be no problems from him.
Shedim's smooth droid interface was probably the only unemotional "face", but even he seemed to question the odd pairing, if she read the sudden bright glow in one of his droid eyes well enough.

They would all do spendidly.

[Eluna Thals]

(In Eluna Thals' condominium, the sound of a beeping HoloNet pager roused Eluna from bed. Taking great care not to rouse her companion from bed, Eluna slips out of the sheets and tiptoes to the dresser, checking the paging device)

FROM: ISARD, YSANNE - INTEL DIRECTOR
TO: THALS, ELUNA - INTEL PROPAGANDA
TIME: 08:44 AM

MESSAGE: REPORT TO INTEL HQ IMMEDIATELY FOR BRIEFING.


Krasst!!

(Eluna immediately cupped her hand to contain her expletive, trying not to wake the man still asleep in her bed. How much did she have last night? She never overslept! Now, she was a good 10 minutes late, and Isard would not be happy about this at all. Quickly, Eluna ran into the bathroom, brushing back her hair into presentable form, pinning it back in regulation manner. She then ran back into the bedroom, grabbing her officer's greys out of the closet, slipping the slacks, jacket, and boots on, checking each for regulation cleanliness and order. She took little time in making herself presentable and beautiful, and soon was on her way out of the door. She paused just before leaving, looking back at the man who was fast asleep. What was his name? Rulo? Ensign Jelal Rulo. Eluna smiled...she wasn't done with this one. Reaching under the bed, Eluna pulled out a set of Imperial binders, and quickly cuffed the sleeping man's hands to the headboard. Ensign Rulo woke up, suprised at the restraining. He opened his mouth to say something, but Eluna placed a finger over his mouth)

Now now now, lets be a good little officer and follow orders.

(Rulo looked at Eluna, the recollection of her stamina causing his eyes to widen slightly. Smiling, Eluna bent down, and licked the handsome ensign across the face, and stood up, stuffing a pair of panties into his mouth)

I'll be back for you later...

(Eluna quickly sauntered off to HQ, leaving a bewildered Ensign behind)

[Jai Delete]

~A large freighter, containing and disguising a heavily modified Imperial stealth shuttle, touches down in one of literally millions of such hangars on the city-planet known as Coruscant....A stooped, old man covered in worn robes and a hodge-podge of salvaged pieces of uniforms and spacer gear walks slowly down the ramp, closes it after checking the locks and alarms with unusual care, and palms the officers on duty a few extra credit chips of a large denomination to further ensure his craft's safety. Being thus assured, the man made his way further out into the city~

~Catching and later departing from a single public transport, he goes deep into the heart of Coruscant... to the old Imperial Intelligence HQ. It appeared that his "fast as I can get there" wasn't faster than anyone else in the main group of IIHQ~

[Dr Quill]

Quill was nodding in his seat from the interminable briefing. He imagined meetings from time immemorable had been like this, and fought to keeps his eyelids open.

EDIT: post out of place

[Data Transfer]

38:8:03:21:15:07-IIHQ-COR.1.IPC-TBIO

ybpe:x dbkqp qerib xka jxilkb:
jfppflk lrqifkb: afpxyib bkbjv pefmp, civ abcbkpb lc qeb irpxkhvx xka lqebo lrqdlfkd pefmp

qxr:x dbkqp qlkaov & qbxj xka nrfii.
jfppflk lrqifkb: afpxyib pefbiap, obkabo dlixk abcbkpb mixqclojp xp rpbibpp xp mlppfyib.

fpph:x dbkqp nbi sbkx xka gboofhl:
fppflk lrqifkb: afpxyib bkbjv dolrka prmmifbp (pefm exkdxop, bqz) xka qollmp

xdbkqp jextxq xka pebafj:
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xkv jxqbofxi vlr kbba tfii yb molsfaba. xkv xppfpqxkzb vlr kbba tfii yb molsfaba lk obnrbpq.
mixkp exsb ql yb jxab tfqefk vlro qbxj, xka qebk yolrdeq ql lro xqqbkqflk, mobcboxyiv tfqefk qeb kbuq tbbh - pl tb zxk dbq lk tfqe qefp.
x zibxo lrqifkb lc vlro mixkp exp ql yb jxab xsxfixyib yv qebk, ql yb lmbkiv afpzrppba xka rpba fk qeb qeobxa

38:8:03:21:15:07-IIHQ-COR.1.IPC-TBIO

[Dr Quill]

A few hours after the meeting

Quill paced slowly down a carpeted hallway, not really concentrating on where he was going. He was absolutely befuddled by his teaming with Tondry and his crack combat team. He could do very little but endanger them if there was a firefight, and none of them was qualified to assist him in any of his work. Once again, Ysanne Isard had done the unexpected, and it bothered Quill that he could not figure out her current plan because her plans usually succeeded brilliantly, which meant he was missing something. He had been pondering her declamation for the past few hours, but was no closer to discovering her mind than he had been when the meeting had ended.

He almost walked past the door marked number five before he shook himself out of his reverie. He touched the buzzer and barely brought his hand down before the door was snatched open by a dark-haired man, eyes wide and staring.

“It’s you. You’re late,” stammered the apartment’s sole occupant. “Do you have it?” He practically dragged Quill through the door into a fair-sized room. The furnishings were tasteful, and there was actually real wood here and there about the room. The man was comfortably well off, but by no means wealthy.

Quill studied the man as he nonchalantly reached into an inside pocket of his jacket. He noticed the man held one arm across his belly and the other hand held out before him trembled slightly. His brown eyes were bloodshot and his pupils were not dilating normally.

“Sure, I have it right here.” He snatched it back as the man reached for it. A moan escaped the beleaguered soul’s throat. “One thing,” Quill said, “before I go. You remember I said I may ask a favor of you some time?” A nod reassured him the promise had not been forgotten. “Take this,” he handed over a small packet of powder, “and keep it safe. Very safe. Soon I will contact you and tell you what I would like you to do with it. When you do this for me, I will give you more than you ever imagined.”


Quill handed over a second package to the eager man, and left quickly. This batch he had prepared especially strong. He knew this one would do whatever Quill asked when he next spoke with him.

[Slash Malone]

[Director Isard]

The agents left in the room - Eluna Thals, Pierce Tondy and Jekaan Oludh - stared at the newcomer for a second, but wrote him off as a case the Director would have to solve. The others had left a few hours earlier, and the three agents had been called back by the Director to attend a special meeting.

Isard stood leaning against her desk, eyeing Malone with a glimmer of impatience in her eyes, while she considered what she would do with him.

The silence grew after his last statement, and she watched as he took on the rigid posture that suited an ex-stormtrooper elite more than the insolent smirk that had been etched on his face when he had come in.

She would have to do something about this one, sooner or later.

With a weary sigh, she broke the silence.

"Agent Malone, there was a briefing statement transfered to your personal datapad. Please confer with that, and with your stated mission partner on the specifics you are supposed to carry out."

She looked at her new second-in-command, Tondry.

"Tondry, this is your responsibility. Agent Malone is one of the commandos under your command. You will have to brief him after this meeting. Also, you had better find his mission partner, Jared Thule, and make sure that they know what to do."

Tondry nodded, somewhat annoyed. Isard swept her icy stare back at Malone.

"Now leave us, and return to your quarters to read your mission briefing in private. Tondry here will contact you when he is ready for you."

They all watched the somewhat less cocky Agent leave the office, and let the door close behind him before they returned to their more private conversation again.