Return from Serna Pur

[Serena Laran]

The shuttle that appeared on Thyferra's long range scanners looked a little like it had been put through a blender. However unconventional it's look, the pilot had the correct clearance codes - a little old, but still serviceable. A command code was also given, identifying the passenger as one Flight Admiral Serena Laran.

It didn't fit. Her ships were always spotless visions of gleaming Imperial precision, this one didn't even fit into the known database. Laran had gone missing during a scheduled trip to Thyferra from Carida over six months ago. She was presumed dead - it wasn't in her nature to go AWOL, or to defect.

On the shuttle things were tense. The only survivors of their harrowing time on Serna Pur, or Ship's Fall were the Admiral, the ensign pilot, and a single stormtrooper escort. None of them were in uniform, and although Serena Laran was slightly cleaner than the other two, they were all filthy.

She was wearing a torn dress that fit her like a bag, and her red hair was caked with mud to hide it's firey color. To escape from the Hutt stronghold with the shuttle... At least she wasn't wearing a slave outfit anymore. The ship, which had been built out of salvaged pieces of twenty other ships (including the fuel cells from their own Lambda class shuttle), did include a refresher, but it was only for the most basic of needs. A sink with running water or a sonic shower was certainly not one of those.

It had taken months to get to the shuttle and off planet, and weeks to chart the course that would bring them to Thyferra. Ensign Jomarr eyed the fuel gauge cautiously as Laran sat with her head in her hands, waiting for the Sovereignty to blast them from space. The trooper, nicknamed "Billy" but designated TK-235, sat rigidly at attention across from Laran in the mostly unfinished main cabin. He still looked uncomfortable without his armor, but seemed to be enjoying the wavy hair and thick beard he'd managed to grow.

Jomarr looked back into the cabin from the cockpit. "It's taking too long to get a landing vector. I think they've decided to vaporize us."

[Tiberius Anar]

A controller at the Thyferran Flight Control Centre keyed his board, "Sir, take a look at section 327-gamma. I have an unidentified vessel broadcasting an identification code I don't recognise."

Up on the gallery, looking down on the operations room, Flight Control Supervisor Haj Morl keyed his own board. He glanced at the identity code before saying, "Looks like an old military code. Query them."

"Yes, sir," the controller changed frequencies and directed the signal at the vessel, "Attention unidentified vessel, please confirm identity and clearance code."

[Serena Laran]

"Attention unidentified vessel, please confirm identity and clearance code." Jomarr flinched, and then toggled the comm back to reply.

"Retransmitting codes now. Passenger is Fleet Admiral Serena Laran, requesting permission to approach Thyferra and land."

[Tiberius Anar]

"Who?" repeated Morl with apparent incredulity.

"Fleet Amiral Serena Laran," repeated the controller.

"Right."

Morl stared at the screen for a moment. The codes were right for the time when Laran had disappeared and only a fool would dare lie about such a thing.

"Give them a landing vector for the Southern Fields. Keep them well out of the city," he asid into the comn. Then to a nearby staffer, "Inform the High Command."

[Serena Laran]

Jomarr sighed in relief. "We've got a landing vector, Serena. Ah, Admiral." He mentally hit himself in the head. After being incognito for six months, it was going to be hard to get back into the habit of saluting.

Serena crunched her hands through her filthy hair, and nodded. "Thank you, Ensign. Ah, Ensign..."

He turned to look at her from the cockpit. "Yes?"

"When you are debriefed... Please..."

Jomarr nodded, "Don't worry, Admiral."

"Right, yes... thank you." Serena held on to the seat tightly as the ship jinked starboard, heading into the planet's atmosphere. She was returning after being absent without leave for over six months, and the thing she was most worried about was whether the Grand Admiral would hear about her indiscretions with a subordinate.

TK-235's eyes met hers, and she could have sworn she saw the man smile under that ridiculous beard. At least Jomarr had maintained his clean shaven appearance, as per protocols. She closed her eyes, and tried to regain what little dignity she had left as the ship landed in the Southern Fields.

[Tiberius Anar]

The Southern Fields were actually not field in the traditional sense. Instead of grass and roling slopes this was a barren expanse of permacrete some five square kilometres in size, sprinkled with huts of the same material. It served as a landing point for the larger freighters that brought supplies to the Imperial Capital World- being close enough to the major population centres to be convenient but not so close as to disturb the lives of the elite that dwelt within.

The jury rigged shuttle made its descent towards a landing slot on the very southern edge of the fields, far from any other vessel- and thus from the prying eyes of those who might wish to spread news of the admiral's return. On the edge of the slot a small hovercade had been drawn up, consisting of an unmarked limosine and four swoop bike mounted escorts. A man in the elaborate red and gold uniform of the Crimson Guard stood alongside another in the more simple grey of the Imperial Army.

"Not exactly the sort of vessel one would expect to see a Fleet Admiral traveling in is it, Maxwell?" commented the CG man to his companion.

"My thought exactly, Gregor. Rather on the economy end of the market, wouldn't you say," replied the Army man, a colonel.

"Indeed," the CG man adjusted the collar of his great coat as the shuttle roared passed, "What shall we do with it?"

"Send it to military intelligence I suppose. Our scanner teams can go over it for evidence to verrify her story."

"You don't believe her then?"

"I never believe anyone," ansered the colonel, then as an afterthought he added ",If I can help it."

The crimson clad officer smirked at that as he watched the shuttle touch down on the permacrete surface. "Shall we?" he asked.

"Yes, Ithink we shall," and together they marched the fifty metres to where the shuttle stood.

[Serena Laran]

Serena huffed impatiently as Ensign Jomarr brought the shuttle down on the broad permacrete, trying to straighten her apparel, but failing miserably. As the shuttle slowed to a stop, she gripped the seat with long fingers. Being nervous was outrageous, but she couldn't help wondering what would happen to her if her superiors didn't believe her story. Worst case: court martial and exectution for desertion.

TK-235 jumped up and opened the airlock on the back of the shuttle, manually cranking the ramp to extend down to the permacrete ground. Admiral Laran resisted running out of the shuttle, choosing to adhere to protocol. The stormtrooper, sans armour, exited first, standing at attention at the right of the ramp.

She followed, stalking out of the shuttle into the Thyferran sunlight. Serena's eyes watered in the bright light, but she steeled herself against blinking, wiling the excess water to re-absorb. Jomarr remained on the shuttle, trying to figure out cooling down procedures for the non-conventional craft.

There were two officers marching towards her, and she turned to face them, allowing them to travel the complete distance to her. She was the Fleet Admiral, they could afford to give her the respect she deserved. One was outfitted in the scarlet of the Crimson Guard, the other in non-descript grey. As they got closer, she could see that the second man was a Sovereignty Army Colonel.

Laran saluted, and then dropped her arm. "I am afraid my trip to Thyferra took a bit longer than anticipated.

[Tiberius Anar]

"Yes, ma'am. It does seem that way," said the red clad officer, "I am Colonel Gregor Friedman of the Crimson Guard. May I present Colonel Maxwell Breber of the Imperial High Command."

Breber gave a curt nod of the head and clicked his heels. "Welcome home, Admiral. I have been instructed to take you to the high command for debriefing. If you will follow me." He indicated the waiting limosine.

[Serena Laran]

"Certainly." She followed Colonel Breber, her boots the only bit of uniform she'd managed to salvage. Laran refused to admit that she was wearing anything less than her usual grey wool uniform, although getting into the speeder and settling her skirt around hre knees shattered that illusion.

[Tiberius Anar]

The limosine shot off at high speed, the traffic control points clearing a path for it as it went. Twenty minutes later the vehicle came to a halt outside the Imperial High Command- a monolithic construct that towered over the surrounding landscape.

Elite troops of the Guards Divison stood watch over the entrance. They gave crisp, well practiced salutes as the three officers passed by, their eyes fixed ahead of them.

The trio took an elevator up several floors and then made their way down a long corridor. The jackboots of the three made an audiable noise as they struck the marbled floor.

A seemingly endless line doors ran down both sides of the corridor, brass plates gleaming on each of them. Breber came to a halt outside one of these doors, marked "Room 958".

"In here if you would, ma'am," he said, his tone carefuly neutral.

[Serena Laran]

Ashamed to be out of uniform, but visibly showing nothing, Laran walked down the long hallway. She'd been debriefed before, but never like this. Of course, she'd never had an experience like this before either.

And she never would again. She steeled herself against what might be coming, and entered Room 958.