Dread Locked

[Dutch]

Guest starring Meira as Darth Renata

---

Something had changed. He could feel it in the Force.

A disturbance, rippling through Jessoin’s body and mind in an endless tide. Echoes of Taris. The change wasn’t just felt in the Force though; Jessoin had changed. He gazed at the back of his hand as it rested on the war table before him, the faint traces of green veins beneath pallid skin a recent sight. The bones beneath looked skeletal, the contours of his knuckles more visible than ever.

I don’t recognize my hand…

The change wasn’t exclusive to his hand though, the same gauntness and ghostly green veins were visible anywhere not covered by his lengthy black robes. He studied his hand for as long as possible, doing his best to ignore the reflection on the glossy black holotable next to it. The twin circles of searing sunlight set into sunken sockets repeatedly flickered to and from their own reflection. Where once the iconic bright green eyes of his Zelosian heritage gleamed, the darkside now shined in molten gold.

I don’t recognize my eyes…

“My Lord, we are receiving a transmission from Lady Renata’s shuttle.”

Jessoin snapped out of his self-reflection, having now ignored Moff Winters’ entire self-important lecture for the entirety. A small grin touched his lips at the Moff’s expression, clearly aghast that the ensign had interrupted her to address the Zelosian. The console beeped and whirred gently in the moment of silence as a hologram of Wayland rotated between the Moff and the group of Sith she had assembled to ‘put in their place’. Without hesitating he straightened his stance and plucked a piece of lint from his silken robes.

“Suppose I should greet her then.” He breathed before sending a wink at Winters. “I’ll be but a moment my dear Moff, will tell the Lady you said hello.” Jessoin’s signature smile spread wide, the corners of his pale cheeks wrinkling merrily. The Sith turned from the gathered group, and stalked towards the steps that lead up to the communications platform that overlooked the bridge.

“Encode the transmission, lock down the bridge and nobody say a word.” He commanded, his tone leaving no room for objection. Jessoin did not need to look at the Moff to know she stared at him scornfully as the Sith commanded her men.

“Yes, My Lord.” The comms technician said as he swiveled in his chair, hands moving over the controls panel with the practiced ease of a seasoned crewman. Moments later, a holo-projected image of the Dark Lady came to life in the center of the communications platform. The image, a ghostly blue, flickered, distorting the robed figure a few times before the signal settled. A hood covered all but the lower portions of Renata’s face, while the robe concealed the near skeletal contours of her body. Not a moment after she appeared Jessoin fell to one knee. With one fist planted on the cold marble flooring and the other gripped on his bent knee, he was a perfect reflection of the Sith statues on Korriban. Bathed in the blue glow of his Mistress’ image, he quietly awaited her directive.

“Zarander.” she said, her voice carried a slightly mechanical tone through the ship’s speakers. “I see you have managed to arrive without destroying my new ship.”

“She truly is an exquisite addition to the fleet; only your absent radiance is left wanting, my Lady.” He replied smoothly.

“I will not be delayed much longer. I expect a full report when I arrive.”

“Afraid there won’t be much to report, Mistress. The Republic fleet encircling Wayland is a token one at best, hardly a match for Imperator’s escort let alone herself. We’ll have a toast to your victory awaiting you upon arrival, my Lady.” Jessoin said, his tone prim and subservient.

“Very good. Let the Republic dogs witness the might of my new flagship. I don’t need to tell you to show no mercy.”

Slowly Renata’s apprentice lifted his head to gaze up at her, his golden iris’ shining in the holo-gloom of the bridge. His smile was wicked, predatory and confident.

“Have I ever, my Lady?”

There was a silent moment. The Dark Lady’s expression was impossible to read through the holo-projection. But there was a sense… Even across such a distance, Jessoin could feel the underlying battle between pride and scorn his mistress held toward him.

“You have come a long way in earning my trust since Zeltros, but this is a pivotal moment in our campaign, Zarander. Do not disappoint me.”

The image flickered one last time, then disappeared. The crewmen who were posted around the observation deck all seemed to release a collective breath they hadn’t been aware they were holding. Even after her image had faded away, the silence that had overcome the bridge was still hanging at the edges.

“How dare you give commands aboard my ship, Zarander!” The Moff barked as she rounded the war-table. Ignoring the other Sith she moved past, Winters’ boots clacked angrily as the blonde human stomped up the steps towards him.

[Marcie's ℳℰℳℰS]

Murae wasn't sure what to think of this mission. One moment she had been training, the next her master had told her they had a job to do. She was wearing light battle weave armour prepared for combat in her own way of having protection yet keeping her speed. Though the only weapon she had was her Captains Blaster...

She'd continue to wonder throughout the massive ship until she ran upon the armoury. Now that caught her eye, she could use a good saber being a Sith and all. Murae stared at the door for a while pondering to see if she had access or not. No one told her they didn't have access to weapons so she attempted to try and enter the armoury.

[lion]

Closing his eyes momentarily, Sarkh could feel the breath leave him as the Trandoshan exhaled, drawing to himself the calm-headed focus that had been so sought after during his training on Korriban. It was not easily that the Trandoshan rattled, he knew, but among the company he found himself around the war-table, it was difficult not to feel some sense of...unease. Sith Lords, powerful Knights; figures many times over more powerful than some could even imagine possible, and he, a simple initiate, among them?

It was both an honour and a bitter command, Sarkh knew, to be where he sat. Eyes were on him, metaphorical if not literal; there was no other way to explain the sensation of being watched. Ever since he boarded the ship, it were as if something had been following him, and rather than seek it out and potentially cause conflict, the Trandoshan instead had opted for careful disinterest. At the time, the main concern had been merely why he had been selected for this jaunt, among the reams of initiates and other more experienced Sith, but as time had gone on, Sarkh could only find the sensation of surveillance eating at him.

It was in the quasi-meditative concentration that the twenty-seven year old reptile found his calm, silencing the predatory voice in his head warning him; letting his instincts simmer down. Perhaps it was the energy in the room, the lingering shadow of the Dark Side swirling about the chamber, the barely contained aggression and passion endemic of the shadowy Sith that brought his heart into disarray?

Whatever it was, Sarkh reasoned, it had him on edge, and slightly bunching his jaw, the jedi-hunter rebelled against it, allowing his mind to sink into the peaceful calm befitting the predator before its stalk. Cool, calm; the voices of the room gently began to sink away as the hard, angular panels of the war room bled away. There was only he, his thoughts, and the Force.

And for the brief few seconds before the feminine shriek of one of the uniformed soft-skins, it was glorious.

Snapped back to the real world with as much grace as a flatulent Hutt, Sarkh blinked; his attention shifting from the holographic display of Wayland to the visage of Moff Winters, her back to him, barking toward one of the Sith that had likewise been brought aboard. It was tempting to say something, but civility held the Trandoshan's forked tongue; where he fell in the social hierarchy here was yet to display itself, especially toward those of the Empire rather than the Order.

And it seemed the good Moff had perhaps invested more of her ego into this little project than she should have; fiery defensive behaviour ran counter to the cold demeanour her name hinted toward. However, as much as he wanted to remain quiet, curiosity brought question forth before the mind could entirely stop it.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, this is Lady Renata's ship, is it not?" The initiate hissed, raising his head curiously; a scaled brow raised inquisitively, as the twenty-seven year old regarded the older human. 

[Harukei]

Each inhalation would serve to fan the flames inside of her. It was here, in the deep recesses of her mind that she would prepare herself as anger and hatred would be tapped and the power of the Darkside of the Force would begin to intertwine with her soul. The momentary peace of meditation would only serve to plant the seeds of her strength. All given purpose and direction, all set against an enemy that would place themselves between the Sith Knight and her goals. A raging storm that she could command not the other way around. 

With a certain calm she would open the fiery pools of crimson that were her eyes, shining in contrast of the shade brought by the hood that obscured most of her features save her chin, lips and nose. She would hear the exchange between the ghastly figure of Renata and who she assumed was her apprentice, noticing the hints of excitement at testing the new vessel against the certainly pitiful fleet that the Republic had gathered over Wayland. 

A pity to be certain. Knowledge was another form of power. Perhaps not as present and everlasting as the Force, but one that could dissemble the schemes of enemies and bring an easier resolution of conflict. After all, she had to ponder what untold secrets would be hidden in the mind of the commander of a frigate? Or what insight would the databanks of a cruiser offer to end the war sooner? Perhaps tactical sensibilities were not something that Renata had thought to her student. 

There was more of the man that she disapproved. All of his actions and his movements would speak of bravado. A confidence in his abilities. And while he was indeed powerful, she held a belief that there had to be always a modicum restraint. An oxymoron of the Sith philosophy, true, but a part of her wondered how long would it be before the oppressed turned against the oppressors. However such line of thought was one that she kept for herself. 

Syrin would stop her contemplation, moving among the officers that crowded the bridge. Her gait silent and elegant as if she was as light as the very inert and stale air which they would all breath. Paying little mind to the angered exchange between Moff Winters and the hushed whispers between officers at their stations. It was however the unanswered query of one of the Sith that finally caught her attention. Coming from behind she would stand next to the Trandoshan. 

"It is." Syrin said plainly. "You look better than you did last time, Sarkh."

[Dutch]

Jessoin slowly rose to his feet, the darkside within him beginning to roll outwards. It billowed around his feet in a pool before creeping like black smoke across the floor. The umber energies cascaded as a thousand serpents down the stairs, a tendril rising to snake up the Moff’s leg. It slithered upwards to cling around her throat, perceivable in the Force alone. He did not turn at first, instead choosing to peer a baleful gold eye over his shoulder down at Winters as she ascended closer to him. The moff barked protocol and glared down at the other Sith the entire way, her fury unreserved. Jess sighed, as if a new burden had befallen his robed shoulders.

“Now now, my dear Moff…” Jessoin started, his tone demure with a sinister twist. The wisps of dark energy around her neck began to deepen, a hundred writhing fingers barely stroking the skin of Winters’ neckline. She coughed, a primal instinct clearly sending alarm bells in the back of her mammalian mind. Her foot hit the top stair, and heavy rubber rang against polished metal all around the bridge. In a quick staccato she wretched and halted at that step, eyes widening as they stared Jessoin down.

“My comrades were speaking to you, Winters.” He crooned before turning to face everyone, revealing a single fist balled before him.. The veins of that hand seemed even darker than the rest, the power with his fist focused to a core of searing condensed power. Every tendril of the darkside which wafted around could be traced to that one crux in the palm of his hand. Jessoin tilted his head and stepped forward, the Moff moving with him until her boots scraped at the stairs below her.The Zelosian’s steps held a confident swagger as he took his time descending the stairs. The suspended Winters moved with him, except ever forward to hang in the air instead of down with Jess. Her desperate gags and gasps echoed through the bridge, Jessoin’s own condescending tsk tsk’s piercing the sound sharply.

“Allow me to remind you, my dear Moff, that Darth Renata entrusted me with this. Not you, nor anyone else; And let me assure you, I will get Imperator to Wayland. I will ensure our presence there is secured and I will eradicate any who stand in my way. Wayland belongs to the Sith now, and I. am .Sith.” The Sith’s twin golden eyes turned to regard the others below him, of Empire and Order alike their attention was turned up to him. He rose his fist, and the purpling Moff that hung between himself and all others ascended higher. The message should be clear and not just to Moff Winters, but to all that stood below the Zelosian. The only sounds that followed his little speech were the Moff’s rapidly declining gasps for life.

“Ahem… uh…. Sir a... Lord Sith uh, sir?” Stammered a rather green looking helmsman as he piped up. Jessoin turned to regard him, his brows lifting with a wickedly amused smile spread. Moff Winters would suddenly drop the dozen feet or so to collapse before Syrin, Sarkh and the other Sith; her sharp and frantic gasps for breath punctuating the air. She clung Syrin’s boot with one hand, the other rubbed at where fresh bruising bloomed across her entire neck.

“Have something to share with me, do you Ensign?” Jessoin asked, his boots clacked smartly over the polished metallic flooring as the Sith stalked towards him.

“Yeah… There’s a… There’s someone accessing the primary systems of Level 22. The armory… engineering… stuff like that. Looks like they’re activating the airlocks... Uh, my Lord… Sith uh, sir.”

[Marcie's ℳℰℳℰS]

Murae would stammer back to find the armoury door opened for her without her doing anything. Someone had to have let her in she thought to herself. She peaked her head in scanning the room before she even thought about entering the room. Once deciding to herself there posed no immediate threat she hesitantly walked in.


Looking around the armoury, she found herself at a vast variety of weapons. Though most not ones she had hoped for, one did however strike her interest. A duroSteel sword was sitting in the corner of the room away from the others. It may not have been a sabre or something she had hoped for, but it was better than a blaster which she already had.


Walking over and taking it in hand, she sheathed it at her side sweeping through the room again for any other weapons that might have been of use. Finding nothing else she grunted in irritation and walked out to find her master Syrin.


After walking through hall after hall, riding elevator after elevator to each floor, she had finally found them walking up to them in silence. She didn't dare to disturb what was going on but she took to Syrin's side. She'd listened to catch up on what had been going on. 

[lion]

If the bridge hadn't felt dark before, surrounded with the shadow of the Dark Side as it was in the presence of those powerful in it, the oily blackness seemed all but dominating. Within the sight of his mind's eye, sinking into the wellspring of the Force as he had been so guided by the Temple's teachers, there was nothing but the appearance of night before him. The lights of life before him, the connections binding all things together both living and inanimate, were invisible; sheathed in darkness to the point that the fiery light could not penetrate the veil.

The strongest pull guiding the twenty-seven year old reptile, however, was the darker waves that pulsed outward from Jessoin; breaking like the tide upon the rocky shore as the Zelosian gripped his inferior officer, the Moff Winters. Despite her protests, her wails and commands to be released, her citing of military doctrine and protocol, there was nothing she could do, and both with his eyes and the Force, Sarkh could only find himself torn between curiosity and intrigue. Such a power, even with his rapid progression from nothing within the fold of the Sith, was beyond him; it was something that a small part of him could only view as impossible.

The momentary wonder, however, was fleeting; what the Trandoshan's eyes beheld quickly took a backseat to the subtle changes the room underwent. An alien smell, familiar but unwarranted, had entered the chamber, and with an inquisitive flick of the forked tongue past the hardened lips brought clarity to the Trandoshan where curiosity had once lingered. The air tasted different, a new flavour-scent entering the spectrum of his senses that instantly raised a red flag within his mind, pulling Sarkh's attention from the impressive show of force on the part of his superior.

Rising slowly from his seat at the table, with the gentle creak of leather stretching across the broad frame of its wearer announcing his posture shift in near silence, Sarkh once more sampled the air; drawing both scent and taste in equal measure. Suspicion arose as the Trandoshan's brain compared the information against memory, and with nothing but a single question left before him, Sarkh's answer was clear.

The unfamiliar taste was that of durasteel; polished, forged, refined. Mingled beneath sweat, blood and the acrid tang of electricity, the stink of durasteel made itself known. Scanning the room, his reptilian eyes found a newcomer; a feminine figure that had not been present at the outset of the meeting, and whether it was the Force or perhaps merely the decades of hunting instinct rising to the fore, Sarkh knew he had landed upon the source.

The softskin girl standing beside Syrin, and around her hip, a durasteel sword. 

The words of the panicked crewman still ringing through his earholes, words of suspicious activity in and around the vessel's armoury, Sarkh wasted no time. All six-foot-ten, three hundred and fifty pounds of Trandoshan moved in one snap motion; stepping the distance between he and the remarkably smaller human before his hand found the lazily-sheathed sword, drawing it with a clean pull before raising the blade to the girl's throat. The blink-of-an-eye motion was uncanny; both in terms of speed and control, for the same motion that had come to threaten Murae could have, with merely a moment's extra motion, severed her flesh.

"So much as breathe out of turn, mammal, and I'll drown you in your own blood." Sarkh started, the reptile's gravelly vocalisations low and deep, a threatening growl of a voice that could have brought a shudder of fear down the spine of nearly anybody. The Trandoshan's facial expression soured as he turned his head slightly, letting his left hand fall to his own sheathed sword, his eyes never quite leaving Murae's body. "You said armoury, crewman? This foolish child just came from there."

[Harukei]

Syrin would only stare at how the actions unfolded before her, the Sith and the rest of the crewmen in the bridge of the ship. The air turned frigid and sinister as the Zelosian held his grip in the air, ebbing the life and air from the Moff as he laid a speech in front of his audience, only kept in bay after an ensign had called unto him, prompting his attention elsewhere and dropping the Moff before the Sith, quite close to Syrin herself. 

Her eyes would scan the scene that was laid before her. As the mighty military career woman would held her throat with one hand as she desperately tried to gasp for the very air that had being denied by the circus that Jessoin had mounted. With the other, Winters held to one of her boots, prompting the Sith Knight to contemplate how she had to react. After all the woman had not done something that she would consider ill. True that this was Renata's vessel, but in her absence it was her duty to keep it in operation. 

It was also to be considered if Jessoin had any notion of tactical thinking. After all, she could agree that he was powerful but power had to the tempered with wisdom. And it was clear by the image that he was giving that there was not a hint of such in his being. A show of power like this only showed craving to be acknowledged and feared. Itself a weakness awaiting to be exploited by someone who wished his position as Renata's apprentice. 

The Sith Knight leaned, pulling the woman from her forearm into her feet. In her experience alliances were better than showing of powers. Indeed they were Sith, and theirs was the power of the Darkside. But by terror and fear there was a limit of what could be accomplished. In time the same fear the used to keep rule could be the seeds of rebellion. It was a simple axiom if galactic history was studied and considered as a means to avoid making past mistakes.

Syrin would turn and see her apprentice returning to her side before Sarkh's own outburst. It was comical to see that, despite of how much the order attempted to change, it remained the same. Specially given that it would be remarkable that an Initiate like Murae had flown from engineering to the top of the ship in just minutes.

"Are we all quite done with displays of power?" Syrin said, the crimson of her eyes changing between the Zelosian and the Trandoshan. "The Ensign said Engineering, I would doubt that my apprentice is that strong to traverse the ship in less than an hour, or is it not that the armories are only on the engineering level and not elsewhere in the ship?" She turned to Jessoin, keeping her hands behind her back. "Now, instead to squabble like children, we could turn our attention to the incidents that the Ensign reported." The woman said with a hint of a smile. "It would be a shame that Renata lost her ship without even placing a foot in it, wouldn't you all agree?"

[Dutch]

Sorry for the delay everyone, but let the next round begin!

---

Jessoin peered back over his shoulder as a few of the gathered Sith chimed in, accusations and egos alike thrown at one another as expected of their Order. The Zelosian smiled pleasantly back at those that moved forward to get his attention, their stunts not uncommon among the newly initiated of the Sith. A skeletal hand patted the ensign’s back, followed by a nod of Jess’ chin towards the terminal.

“Lock down that level, nobody leaves until I say Ensign.” Jess commanded. He gave winning wink to the man at his ‘Yes, my Lord’ response. With a smooth turn of his heel the Sith strode smoothlyy to return back to the Moff. The fight in her restrained to cold and hateful eyes, Winters breathed in a final raking breath before shifting to stand. She adjusted her uniform and cleared her throat before stiffening her posture to gather what little dignity was left.

The Zelosian turned his golden gaze to the Zeltron acolyte, the newest member of the Novus’ camp studying under the knight-acolyte on the other side of Winters. He tilted his head to regard the Zeltron further, her presence in the Force a small glimmer among the giants nearer to him.

“I do think her master is right, dear lizard, the child doesn’t strike me as our saboteur. Your blade would be wasted by taking her life, save it for our true betrayer.” The Sith said, his eyes moving to meet the Trandoshan’s. Once obeyed, Jessoin moved into the group to stand before the holotable. A few flicks of his fingers and the lay-out for Imperator flashed to life before him.

“Elar, hunt down this invader. I want them alive for questioning. Whether they have all remaining limbs, I leave to you.” The Sith commanded, glancing to the Moff before his smile widened. “Oh, and bring your apprentice, the lizard, and a squad of the dear Moff’s choosing.”

“I will remain to ensure the bridge remains in our hands. Happy hunting, sweet Syrin.”

[Marcie's ℳℰℳℰS]

Everything happened quite quickly in Murae's mind. One moment she was attending a simple meeting at her master's side then the next being accused of being the culprit. Today was already starting off in such interesting ways.


Though she hadn't moved in the slightest. She had thought about pulling her blaster or at least explaining her situation but that would do little good and she knew it. She could only await her master's opinion on the display right behind her.


"The Ensign said Engineering, I would doubt that my apprentice is that strong to traverse the ship in less than an hour, or is it not that the armories are only on the engineering level and not elsewhere in the ship?" Those were the words she wanted to hear..  Despite being insulted somewhat on her skill. Though it wasn't false, she hadn't the training to do such things in less than an hour.

Murae kept silent while the blade still sat at her neck. “I do think her master is right, dear lizard, the child doesn’t strike me as our saboteur. Your blade would be wasted by taking her life, save it for our true betrayer.” Even after being also defended by the man briefing the room. She kept a straight face. She had learned by now that showing emotion was a weakness and could only make her situation worse.

Now it seemed like an eternity though she knew at this point her life wouldn't be taken so she simply stepped to the other side of her master away from the blade to continue to listen to the briefing.

As the information was coming to a close the one phrase she couldn't help giving a small smirk was when the Zelosian said, "Whether they have all remaining limbs, I leave to you.” Now that was something she liked to hear. Though without further adieu, she waited for her master's lead and followed her master out of the room when she was ready.


It was going to be a good hunt indeed for herself and her master..

[lion]

Reptilian eyes narrowed as the long seconds dragged on, the silvery sheen of the mass-produced sith sword held menacingly at the ready with but the single pull backward the barrier between life and a messy death. Voices spoke, reasoned the irrefutable evidence that the apprentice was innocent, incapable of being responsible, but it was with a low growl that the Trandoshan allowed himself to relent.

The blade shifted from skin to air, yielding the path necessary for Murae to walk from her threatened space to her Master's side, under Sarkh's watchful eye for a few moments far too long to be comfortable or even tolerable. A tension lingered in the air, out of place with normalcy, and with his gaze turning to Syrin herself, the Trandoshan turned his forked tongue's barbs upon both student and teacher.

"As you wish; not that I'd dirty even this with that one's blood." Spat Sarkh, the indignation and bitterness dripping from his rasped words like rainwater down a drain as the command was given from Jessoin, practically drenching each syllable in acidity. Advancing, the Trandoshan's gaze remained fixed, locking eyes with Syrin as the scaled flesh tightened into a scowl that bespoke the man's aggression. Bitterness, distaste, even a hint of jealousy seemed to linger just beneath the surface of the reptile's eyes, restrained by patience from being brought to bear.

Hatred sat upon the Trandoshan; the Scorekeeper may have guided him to the Sith, her wisdom divine and clear above all others, but never was there made an understanding he had to befriend them. Mammals, least of all; the fetid stench of hair and sweat was irritant enough, leaving aside the stupidity that came with the hairless apes. How could Syrin have allowed her apprentice such leeway, to take a weapon she clearly had little understanding toward? The student grasped for the blade much in the same way they grasped for knowledge, the parables went, blindly and without wisdom enough to use it.

Perhaps more jealousy than a mere hint, then, Sarkh yielded, the bitter breath leaving his nostrils firmly. The Trandoshan himself had yet to find an educator, yet to find guidance through the Force bar his own; reaching blindly in his own way, not by ignorance but necessity. It was natural, then, to feel some aggression, though Sarkh could feel himself begin to question himself; was it fairly earned anger that Syrin and her student had drawn?

The thought didn't last long, shoved aside, as the reptile fell in line behind the two pungent mammals, leaving the bridge at Jessoin's command. The bowels of the ship, and the traitor they held, beckoned.

The hunt was on. 

 

[Harukei]

Syrin wasn't exactly pleased that someone whose rank was lower than hers in the Sith hierarchy was ordering her around. However, said feelings were well kept as her face remained stoic as ever. Personal preferences and rank would have to take a second place behind the looming thread that the saboteur represented. The Assassin would move closer to holotable from which the ghastly figure of Renata had appeared not so ago. Lightly tapping a sequence on a keyboard, the Sith Knight would manage to summon an hologram of the vessel, only to then have the whole engineering section highlighted.

Her eyes shifted and darted from side, as if the red section of the hologram would bring any tangible answer to her that had seemingly evaded the rest of the command crew. Satisfied with what she had seen, she simply tapped one of the keys, killing the hologram that slowly faded. THe Sith Knight turned towards the recovering Moff Winter, whose breath still held a rasping connotation. "Moff, instruct one of your best squads to meet Sarkh, Murae and myself at the turbolift in bulkhead C-2." She then would shift her gaze towards Jessoin. "I do certainly hope you have organized squads to protect the entrances to the reactor, coolant and life-support systems." 

"Follow me." Syrin said to the Trandoshan and Zeltron as she turned towards the turbolift. Allowing her companions to enter first, she would lock her gaze with the Zelosian. "I would advice you secure the perimeter of bridge as well." These were her parting words as the doors closed and the lift started it's descent. As they made their way down to the engineering levels, she would feel relieved that she wasn't around the presence the Zelosian. She truly feared for the future of the Empire and the Order if individuals like him were the future of the Sith. 

As they finally reached engineering, a process lengthen by the fact of the constant switch of lifts, she had to made a mental note about the design of the lift themselves. Clearly not designed for a hulking Trandoshans and other two beings. When the doors opened of the lift she would peer out, looking at the lineal design of some sections of the ship. Which then would seem to honeycomb around the ship essential systems. As they stepped down, a group of armor clad troopers would meet them. 

"Lady Elar? We were ordered to meet you." The one at front said with a respectful nod. "We are at your command." 

"Good." She said to the male on the lead, noting the rank plate on his breast plate. "Sergeant, show us where was the incident reported. Also... Do inform other units that we are heading to the coolant control systems." Syrin said before activating her own comlink, connecting with a nervous ensign in the bridge. "Report our location to Zarander, also, I would very like to know any other incident." Cutting off the transmission she returned to Murae and Sarkh. "Sharpen your senses, we are hunting for vermin now."