The Final Insult

[Meira]

Captain Verdandi’s boots made a soft, but solid thud with each step she took. The corridors of the Stalwart Dusk were, like every other Imperial battleship, devoid of needless decoration. The long stretches that moved through the ship like veins were sectioned off at regular intervals with blast doors and bulkheads. It was a pleasing, orderly division that most Imperial ships shared. Indeed, she could likely navigate any Imperial capital ship, from corvettes up to the dreadnought without getting lost. She appreciated the cleanliness of it, the regularity. It was particularly useful on days like this, when she didn’t have the time to waste looking for the right room on the right deck.

Her team was down in the hangar, preparing for deployment. They’d hooked up with the 16th Fleet, ready to charge in and knock skulls, but orders changed soon after they’d docked. Apparently ITF Kreshner had been able to recover the Brackett and had fallen back to Thustra. Ships were rerouting to rendezvous there and await further orders. She’d expected Cresh Team would have to stand down, but a call came through just before the jump that Cresh Team was to report to the Stalwart Dusk upon arrival in the system. So they’d waited, gunboat ready, for the drop out of hyperspace and hopped on over to the battleship when they arrived. What their new orders would be, Verdandi could only guess.

For her team’s sake, she hoped it was something worthwhile. The last thing they would want to hear was that they were being given special guard duty. This ship was commanded by one of the Inner Sanctum, after all. Some of the higher ups in the more bureaucratic corners of military command sometimes thought they were doing her a favor, sticking her and Cresh Team on cushy honor guard jobs. Trying to curry favor with her brother, no doubt. Fools, the lot of them. If they knew anything about her, her brother, or her family, they’d know that anything less than putting her skills to their full potential was an insult.

The doors to the Command Deck briefing room were flanked by guards. She paused in front of them briefly, allowing them to note her insignia and name. One guard gave a slight nod of his chin and activated the door’s controls. Verdandi returned the nod and stepped through the door into a vestibule. The door closed behind her and there was a soft beep from somewhere overhead as she was scanned. The inner doors opened after a chime announced that she was clear for entry and Verdandi stepped into the briefing room.

The space was dimly lit to allow for better visibility of the holoimages that were displayed over the table that dominated the center of the room. The ship’s captain and a subordinate were the only two current occupants. They stood on the far side of the holotable, deliberating over a datapad the subordinate was holding up for the both of them. They looked up upon hearing her entrance and Verdandi snapped a sharp salute as they did.

“Captain Verdandi of Cresh Team, reporting.” she said.

“Thank you for coming so quickly. At ease.” the ship’s Captain said, returning her salute. “The briefing will begin shortly.”

[Blue]

War. He remembered the first war that he had been in, under the banner of the Sith. His attendance was by pure accident, picked up by the Empire's flagship as he drifted in the escape pod, his first master and all the ties to them gone. He had been so full of fear he was little more than a beast; all instinct, running on adrenaline. It was a wonder he had survived to reach Darth Aurelius' training on Korriban. There, Moor had been polished, honed into a sharp edge. Still he had been full of fear: no master, no allies, at the whims of any and all Sith more powerful than himself. But he had survived, nevertheless. Survived, and grown stronger. With every mission he completed, he climbed higher up the Chain, until here he stood. Under the wing of a Darth, able to assassinate Sith Lords, his equipment upgraded. Not safe. Never safe. Yet now, he was something... more. War. It still filled him with that familiar, comforting terror. But anticipation mingled in with it. A chance to advance, a chance to Climb. A chance to kill. When the summons came, Moor had considered infiltrating the Command Deck briefing room, but swiftly discarded the idea. This place was the personal vessel of a Darth, and to attempt to circumvent their security was foolish in the extreme. It was not just any Inner Sanctum lord, though; it was the master of Karn Albrecht, the intolerable acolyte who had been plaguing Moor's footsteps for months. An accidental meeting once, an impromptu assassination, and suddenly the powers that be had insisted of throwing them into missions together. The assassin could barely refuse, which did nothing to salve his hatred of the pale man. So, had and stalked the halls until reaching the briefing room and allowed the guards to see him. Allowed the security system to scan him. Every allowance caused him to scream internally, but he endured. The captain was there with a subordinate, looking up to welcome whoever had arrived, only to see the helmed man once more vanish completely from sight. Moor loped over to a corner in the dimly lit room, watching the entrance for the next person: Sith military, a captain. She exchanged short words with the Captain, unaware of his presence. Moor could not help but revel in the newfound advancements the Sith artefact he had stolen from the dead Syko's vaults provided him. His abilities in stealth had climbed to new heights since he had integrated it with his stealth suit; he doubted anyone but the highest masters in the Force would be able to sense him now unless he wanted them to. And when he wrapped Force Cloak around himself? It was as if he was not even there at all.

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

Well, it had been exciting to buzz out to Thustra on a fast courier – yet there was not much to be done until the battleship arrived. Discretion had no part of valor and he had no need of valor anymore. There were no more lofty heights to climb to. Ergo, Darth Imago, brand new Lord Inquisitor of the Sith … Sat on his butt and waited, reading endless tight beam reports in his cabin. He wasn’t even required to fly his own ship – there was a much more sophisticated droid for that. And while the NZT-331 was fast, it was damn uncomfortable. Barely more than a couple of cramped rooms wrapped around the most advanced hyperdrive and sublight engines the Empire had been able to devise, circa the last war. As far as he knew, they’d only ever made one. He loved it – nothing else had survived Teth with him. But when the opportunity came to dock with the Stalwart Dusk, Imago didn’t waste much time transferring over. He wandered the hallways now, wondering when he’d meet his new peer. He’d never interacted with this particular Praetor Magnus. It was difficult to know what to expect; those that rose to power among the Imperial cults were universally driven and unique. The system would tolerate nothing else. Except here Imago was, an aberration. The Empress’s known favorite, with no higher ambition than the highest bed. He smiled too much and made a public fool of himself with stupid holonet posts. And yet. Here. He. Was. He flipped the briefing room door guard a lazy salute that boarded on sarcastic as the scanners flickered over him. The green eye insignia pinned on his lapels and cuffs guaranteed access almost anywhere in Imperial space, the personal domiciles of the other members of the Inner Sanctum excepted. But it was best to be polite. For now. Perhaps that courtesy would be withdrawn later if Viren turned out to be an ass. Imago’s personal experience with other Darths was rather 50/50. Some he liked just fine, like the very practical Darth Aurelius and even Viren’s chiss predecessor. Some grated on him like the old Grand Prophet. She’d demanded an excessive subservience in her soldiers and had a habit of keeping a bunch of ornamental fires lit on her ship. Weird lady, that. Lost on Nar Shaddaa, so far as he remembered. Wait, was he meant to have brought soldiers? He could have called up diplomats and spies, but he lacked an overstuffed warship to pack them on. Besides, there seemed to a soldier here already, subtly different than Viren’s by the insignia she wore. Imago inclined his head slightly in greeting before glancing at the other man, one of the ship’s officers. “Captains.” He pulled out a chair for himself and fell into it, watching them with an air of mild expectation.

[Rugs]

At long last, the facade was done.

Karn walked with purpose as he moved through the Stalwart Dusk’s spartan halls. At last, the thin veil of diplomacy — of peaceful coexistence — was falling away between the Republic and the Empire. The shooting started, not long ago. Now the Republic dared to move, ferociously, against Thustra. Diplomats from either side might wring their hands over the brutishness of it all, over restoring order, but it was too late.

It’d been too late once the Republic blew up Imperial ships over Nar Shaddaa.

Karn bit back a subtle smile as he stopped a security checkpoint. The soldier on duty knew him — everyone on his master’s ship knew him — but put the well-dressed acolyte through a perfunctory check anyway. He’d been too young — too weak — to fight during the Pan-Galactic War. Now he was older. Stronger. Better. With Darth Viren to guide him, there were no heights Karn could not reach.

But first, a mission.

Though he quite possibly possessed the lowest rank on paper of anyone on the assembled team — it was odd, trying to compare his standing to the woman who was not a part of the Sith Order proper — Karn strode into the command deck with the self-assured confidence of someone who belonged. This was his master’s domain. His domain. Already, Captain Verdandi and the newly-ascended Darth Imago were present.

“Captain,” Karn said to Verdandi with a polite nod of the head. “My Lord.” He bowed to Imago — not as deeply as he might to his master, but enough to show clear deference and respect. His white-eyed gaze lingered on the Epicanthix — he was handsome — before taking in the rest of the room. “It is a pleasure to join the two of you.” The emphasis in Karn’s voice was slight, but purposeful.

Moor was on this team. Karn detested Moor, and he knew well the Knight shared the feeling. Just as he knew Moor liked to skulk about in the shadows, out of sight. Like a rat. Karn’s gaze moved around the room as he took his position, waiting for the briefing to begin. Moor was many awful things, but he was never tardy. I know you’re here, the little smirk playing on his lips seemed to say, and fuck you.

Not that he’d say such things aloud in present company, of course. Instead, Karn turned his attention to his other teammates and the ship’s captain. “I trust we’ll be beginning shortly?”

[Ysmir]

"Has everyone arrived?"

"Yes, sire. All inbound vessels docked and transponder codes accounted for," Golgoth answered, standing at attention adjacent to his Lord as they stared out at the abyss of space.

"I sense Karn has already made his way there. I will hand maintenance of the ship's systems to you, Admiral," Viren said, turning and beginning his trek toward the Command Deck from the Bridge.

Were he to have it his way, he would never waste time searching a derelict ruin for anything other than more quarry to meet in battle. But his ambitions were beginning to reach their zenith; something he craved above all else was on the horizon, teasing him, and Viren knew better than to do anything that might jeopardize his chance to meet the Republic on the field of war. And besides, wisdom necessitated that the most efficient path was often (but not always) the one of least resistance. If the data on board HRS Brackett was of such importance to the Empress that she saw fit to send not one, but two of her Inner Sanctum to retrieve it, then Her Will must be done.

Viren navigated the halls of his vessel with haste. The Command Deck was but a short jaunt from the Bridge, and he arrived there to the briefing room in short order.

When he did, the guards flanking the entry to the room made zero effort to verify the identity of the man; clad in his armor, he was unmistakably the Praetor Magnus, a towering onyx sculpture with burning yellow eyes -- and surprisingly well-groomed hair, all things considered. Viren ducked into the enclosure and was silent for his first few moments of arrival. With a keen eye, he took in each occupant of his vessel.

Save for his apprentice, every face was one he knew from reports and classified documents, but that he never had the pleasure (or displeasure, in some cases) of meeting in person. Captain Verdandi had established herself as something of a household name in Imperial Intelligence, someone who could be trusted to get the job done and get it done right. Such qualities were worthy of Viren's respect, but he elected to withhold judgement until he saw her informed ability in action. Darth Imago needed no introduction; Viren knew another Epicanthix when he saw one. Imago retained the more olive complexion common amongst their people, unlike the pale Viren, but otherwise their traits were similar. The Praetor Magnus' opinions on the man were less concrete than on Verdandi. All he knew was that Imago was something of a pet to the Empress, and was vocal on the Holonet. He'd be one to watch.

There was one notable absence, however.

In the brief moments of silence following his entry, Viren's head swept across the full width of the room, eyes passing over each and every occupant and counting the number within. With sensory abilities never his strong suit, the Dark Lord settled on pure deduction. He stared ahead and bellowed out.

"We've not the time for petty games of hide and seek, Knight Moor. Show yourself so we may carry on."

Viren trusted nothing he couldn't see with his own two eyes, especially not on his own ship. Moor would be no exception.

[Meira]

Verdandi settled into her stance, allowing her mind to empty as she waited for the briefing to begin. She made a habit of availing herself of such quiet moments when she could, especially before a mission. Once orders were given, the only thing that mattered was the objective. Action required clarity. And Verdandi was a woman of action. So she breathed, focusing on her lungs filling and then expelling the sterile air. It was a slow, steady rhythm.

When the doors opened to admit the next arrival, it was only her eyes that moved to see who it was. But her whole body snapped to attention when she recognized the man, right hand coming to a sharp salute just as her heels clicked. The Four Pillars of the Order were well known throughout the Empire. As a member of the military and the nobility alike, it was impossible for her to not know who the Lord Inquisitor was. In spite of herself, she wondered for the briefest moment just what this mission would be if he were involved. Seraphina was not one for gossip, but everyone knew that Lord Inquisitor Imago was favored by the Empress. There were varying theories as to why, the most popular being that she simply enjoyed him for his beauty. He was handsome, there was no denying it, but Seraphina couldn't believe that was all there was to it. In any case, this was certainly not the place for speculation. The thoughts had barely alighted in her mind before they were dismissed and she resumed her at-ease stance as the Lord Inquisitor took a seat.

Soon, another man entered. This one Verdandi recognized as a servant to the Praetor Magnus. His rank was, to her understanding, technically below her own and so she did not move to attention or salute him. And because he was not actually a member of the Imperial military, she took no offense to his casual greeting. In return, he received a wordless nod and a mental dismissal of his... peculiar intonations. His speculation as to their meeting's start time was soon answered when the Praetor Magnus entered. Once again, Verdandi shot to attention and saluted, holding the pose until the Praetor Magnus spoke. She kept the confusion from her face, ever the professional, even as another being appeared from seemingly nowhere. She was no stranger to the Sith, having worked with some on previous assignments. She never pretended to understand how they were able to manipulate the thing they called the force, but she knew that it allowed them to do a great deal of unnatural things. As twisted as they tended to be... they could also be damned useful.

There was a pregnant silence in the briefing room for a long moment before the ship captain who'd greeted her cleared his throat before speaking.

"Praetor Magnus," he said, then turned to Imago, "Lord Inquisitor. I have been instructed to connect a coded tightbeam signal once you both arrived. One moment, please." The captain stepped to the table at the center of the room and pressed a few keys. The holoprojector on the table flickered. The previous cycling images of Thustra winked out and the Captain and his subordinate moved to the door. Both saluted and exited before the signal connected. A few moments later, a face familiar across the Empire -across the entire galaxy- materialized. This time, rather than salute, Seraphina Verdandi sank to one knee, bowing her head low to Her Imperial Radiance.

"Time is short, and so We will dispense with formalities and be brief. The Republic has gone too far and Our patience is not infinite. The pretense of peace is at an end. As our fleets defend innocent Thustra, We rely on you to secure precious information and equipment. This mission is critical, and cannot fail. Praetor Magnus," the Empress turned to Viren, "We are providing to you Captain Verdandi and her elite Cresh Team. They will serve you well. We require that you sweep the Brackett from nose to stern. Recover any of Our subjects that you can so that they might be returned to their families with honor. Locate the ship's flight logs and any other relevant data." There was a brief pause, and the Empress turned her eyes from the Viren to Imago. "Lord Inquisitor, the Brackett was designated Nova Deep. You will personally identify the captain, if they are recovered, and secure the asset." The Empress' eyes swept over them all for a moment, then returned to the two Pillars. "We look forward to your report."

The signal disconnected and the Empress' image faded from the projector. A moment later, the cycling image of Thustra and the ships that now protected it from the Republic's incursion returned. Verdandi returned to her feet and took a deep breath, preparing for the orders that were sure to follow.

[Blue]

Time seemed to pass at a crawl as Moor waited for the others to arrive. Anticipation and fear in equal measure gnawed at him. There should be no enemies. Maybe a few scavengers at most. But what if the Republic sent a team to investigate? An elite team would be most likely. Maybe even Jedi. Revulsion and hatred almost toppled his near-permanent sense of terror at the thought of the Sith Order's ancient foes. I'll kill them, kill them all- They failed me, abandoned- No-one can know, no-one can know, no-one can KNOW- Moor's head twitched, unseen by the growing crowd. Eyes, their colour beginning to decay into a sickly yellow, scanned the room. His mouth went dry as he saw not one, but two Inner Sanctum members in their presence; he had known that they would be a part of the mission, but the pressure of power was something that was hard to adjust yourself for. Darth Imago he recognized on sight, as they had been assigned on a mission together previously. He had been only a Lord at the time, and Moor could not have imagined that he would rise so close to the zenith of the Order. Don't remember me, don't remember me, don't remember me... Karn. The less said about that fool, the better. And now, Darth Viren. Karn's master, and the man whose ship they were all gathered upon. Moor knew some things about this person; he had been a Knight of Strife originally, before Darth Aurelius had brought the assassin under his wing. But before any more thoughts could form, the tall, severe Lord barked out an order to the room. Naming him. Did he see? No. Didn't see, couldn't see. He just knew. I'm on the roster. Deduction. Danger. Without hesitation, Moor deactivated the stealth field and dropped the Cloak that hid his presence from view. The Force dragged along his skin like barb wire; the mere aura of the two Darths was oppressive by default, and he was more sensitive to the ebbs and tides of the Force than others. The assassin stepped forward towards the table and bowed to both of the Inner Sanctum lords. 'My lords,' he said, his whispery, croaking voice scratching at his throat. The mask visage turned to Karn. 'Acolyte Albrecht,' he continued. His words seemed to carefully, slowly enunciate the name, dragging it out a half-second longer than necessary. Laugh, Albrecht. Go on. I know you want to. Moor's thoughts were interrupted by the captain, who sent off a message as per his instructions. The room darkened, and a face appeared. A countenance that none in the Empire did not know. The assassin immediately followed suit with Verdandi and went down on one knee, his head bowed as he attentively listened to Her Radiance's will. War was confirmed. The mission was clarified. An asset was named, and ordered secured by none other than a Darth. Then the oppressive aura of the Empress was gone. Moor quietly sighed, letting loose a breath he had not known he was holding, and once more stood. In silence, he awaited his orders.

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

Hurry up and wait. Where did that saying come from, exactly? Imago could be patient – if there was a good reason behind it. Something to savor, all the better for the anticipation … But he absolutely hated being bored. Realizing he’d been staring at the two officers, he angled himself slightly away to watch the door. He had no wish for those outside the Order to mistake his regard for disapproval or aggression. It was all a part of that being polite – though he would not go so far as to engage them in conversation. Soon enough, the others arrived. Feeling that the white haired acolyte’s gaze lingered, Imago raised his chin and smirked. Being perceived as a pretty idiot had been half of his job for several years now. Whether it would be useful to keep cultivating that reputation as Lord Inquisitor, well … Imago wasn’t so sure. Darth Viren next. As Imago studied his new peer for the first time in person, he was somewhat taken aback by the man’s bulk. In that suit of armor, it seemed that the Praetor Magnus took their species’ height to a towering extreme – and if they weren’t standing on the deck of a warship, Imago would have worried a bit about the floors. It seemed there would be no introduction, as the first thing the other Darth did was shout to the room. Strange, that – except that their final companion appeared on the other side of the room as an immediate result. Imago stared, expression going quite blank. He remembered that young man from a mission some years ago, had found his behavior bizarre and slightly off putting then too. What was he doing here? The Sith Order was not particularly kind to those who could not or would not fit the status quo. Either Moor had a powerful protector – or he was vicious enough to survive much abuse from his peers. Or … Third option, he hid all the time. How lucky he was his hiding here did not appear to be received as a threat, a statement of intent. Fuck. Did all these Sith already know each other? How terribly awkward. As the ship’s officer toggled the holo, Imago rose to his feet in the Empress’ presence and inclined his head. If he found anything unusual about two members of the Inner Sanctum being sent to recover bodies, he knew better than to let it show on his face. ”It will be done immediately, Your Radiance.” As the image faded, he turned slightly toward Viren. ”You have some sort of conveyance ready for us, I trust.”

[Ysmir]

Viren had an idea what to expect from the Captain. He had an idea what to expect from Imago. He had grown to understand and even be capable of predicting Karn, physically and emotionally.

But Knight Moor? This one was a wild card.

As the Sith Knight emerged from the shadows, Viren's eyes settled upon him with a sparkle of interest. Moor was a small thing; compared to Viren's towering form -- the Epicanthix was nearly two feet taller -- he was downright miniscule. But Viren knew better than to assume this was the reason for his secrecy, his stealth. And from the stories told by his apprentice, and whispers throughout the Empire at large, Viren knew far better than to assume his strength based on something as arbitrary as size. Often, the tiniest threats are the ones that went unnoticed long enough to stab you in the back. No, Moor would be afforded no leniency due to his seemingly harmless nature. If anything, Viren would be watching him more closely than the rest. Moor's body bore signs of one that knew hardship and struggle. That he survived the ordeals of his life at all was a testament to his will. This, at the very least, was worthy of some respect and recognition, though the Darth would never vocalize such things.

Maybe Knight Moor could be of use to him sometime down the road. The closer you are to danger, the further you are from harm; an idiosyncratic phrase that belies more wisdom than it intends.

Finally, Viren addressed the remainder of the room fully, though it wasn't much more impactful than the silence.

"Captain Verdandi. Apprentice. Lord Inquisitor." Viren merely nodded to each and addressed Imago properly, though as an equal. He took long strides from the doorway and assumed a position at the head of the central table, adjacent to Karn. He folded his hands before his waist and awaited their briefing.

Luckily, the wait was not a long one. Soon after a notable silence fell over them, the ship Captain stepped forward and stated his intentions; in the central table, the holoprojector buzzed to life and cycled through life footage of the battle raging over Thustra. Then, it settled on the reason for their presence together. Alongside Seraphina, Viren inclined his head downward in a sign of respect toward Her Radiance as she appeared in the communications signal. Viren listened to her words up until he was addressed directly. He lifted his chin.

Viren turned his eyes over to Captain Verdandi. She remained kneeling, eyes down. It seemed he would get a firsthand experience of her skills in action this day. "Your Will be done, my Lady," Viren replied to her instruction, placing a fist to his chest and inclining his head once more, "We shall mobilize at once."

There as conviction to his tone, but deep down, Viren longed to lead the defense of Thustra. He was so close to tasting true conflict, true test of his mettle against the Republic. Alas, it would have to wait. The Jedi would tell you that patience is a virtue -- to Viren, it was nothing more than a means to an end. He'd have his satisfaction soon enough.

"Rise, Captain," Viren spoke to Seraphina, turning away from the table. "Assemble your team. We depart in ten minutes."

Viren regarded Moor for a brief moment, as if sizing the Knight up again, or deciding what was to be done with him. It was difficult to tell. Or, perhaps, it was simply a reminder that even if the Knight decided to hide again, to snoop, that Viren would know -- and would be watching. Then, his eyes turned up to Imago directly across the table from himself.

"Yes," he spoke bluntly. "My apprentice and I shall meet you in the hangar. Nine minutes."

Darth Viren gave Karn a look that beckoned him to follow, and without wasting another second, he stomped out of the briefing room.

When he and Karn were striding down the hall, free of prying ears, Viren spoke to his apprentice without breaking his forward stare.

"When we reach the vessel, you will be charged with monitoring Moor. His presence here is an oddity." Viren veered right down the onyx black pathway, toward the hangar. He lifted his helmet and affixed it over his head, the suit hissing as the mask was pressurized. When he spoke next, his deep voice was modulated by the vocabulator. "If your suspicions are raised, notify me at once on our secure channel."

[Meira]

"It will be done, my Lord." Seraphina said, snapping a salute once again. She then made a small turn and repeated the gesture to the Lord Inquisitor before moving to the door and exiting the briefing room.

Once she was in the corridor, a small fraction of the rigidity left her frame. She still held herself tall and straight, as was befitting an officer, but she allowed herself just the slightest bit of give in her muscles as she moved to the lift. The trip down to the hangar bay was quick, but still long enough for her to wonder at the mission. Cresh Team would be serving as little more than an honor guard on this mission. Two Pillars of the Empire hardly needed the protection. More hands for the dirty work, and mouths that knew how to keep shut; that's what they would be. And they would do the job well.

The hangar was abuzz with activity. Fighter pilots moved around in preparation for deployment while drop ship crews were leaving and arriving at the battleship in regular intervals as they supported those groundside on Thustra. To the side, out of the way, her team was an island of calm in the storm. Not a single nerve to be found amongst them. Raph smiled inwardly with pride at the sight of them. Mazer, her second in command, was the first to see her. The orange twi'lek pushed himself from the crate he'd been leaning on, smoothly coming to attention. This brought the rest of Cresh Team's awareness in her direction and they all followed suit.

"What's the damage, Captain?" Mazer asked.

"Escort and recover." Verdandi answered, gesturing for the team to stand at ease. "Personnel and flight logs are top priority. Mosi, be ready to help with bodies or any injured that might still be on board. Iziwa, you'll help with ship systems. It's pretty damaged, so bring everything you can. Pellon... small breaching charges only. We don't want any unscheduled space walks." That got a chuckle from everyone. "Theran," Seraphina continued, not missing a beat, "with Mosi. We've got two Pillars on this run. They hold up half the fuckin' Empire so we're gonna be what?" she asked.

"Ice cold!" Came their unified reply.

"Damn straight." Verdandi said, then nodded. Each member of Cresh Team turned, moving to secure their gear. Seraphina's eyes moved over them, one by one, as Mazer stepped over to stand beside her.

"Two?" he asked, raising a brow. Verdandi nodded. Mazer whistled.

"Viren and...?" he trailed off.

"Imago."

Mazer did a double take, then frowned in thought. Seraphina's mouth twitched upward slightly in a sympathetic smile. It was a bit peculiar. The thought reminded her of something from the orders issued. Discretely, Seraphina scanned the area to be sure no one was in earshot, not even the rest of their team. Mazer, having worked under Verdandi for some years now, picked up on her subtle movements and angled himself so that he seemed to be watching one of the drop ships preparing to take off. Seraphina, appearing to simply be supervising her Team's preparations, spoke as quietly to him as she could.

"Ever heard of a Nova Deep classification?" she asked. Mazer moved his head ever so slightly to one side, then the other. Seraphina bit her lip for a moment. "The Brackett has it. See what you can find. But mind the Inquisitor."

Seraphina moved away then, stepping over to help Mosi secure a number of collapsible stretcher frames to the sides of his medic backpack. Mazer watched the drop ship lift up and then move through the blue force field and off toward the large disk that was Thustra beyond. When it was gone, he too turned and moved over to where his own gear sat ready. He lifted his datapad from on top of his pack and got to digging.

[Blue]

He hated it. The eyes raked him, power perceiving him, and he hated it. It was antithesis to everything that he was; a blade in the dark, death clad in shadow. It was like being scrubbed down with a metal brush, making his skin peel and bleed. Unnatural. They should not see me. There was recognition in Darth Imago's eyes, and an intensity in Darth Viren's. Of the two, the latter concerned him more. He was, after all, previously bound to the Cult of Strife, before he was taken by Darth Aurelius into Ascension. There seemed to be no aggression in the Praetor Magnus' gaze, no ill-will as to Moor's change of position. But not everything is as it seemed. Thankfully, his presence was soon dwarfed by the Empress' briefing, and commands were given shortly after. The room began to disperse, with Darth Viren exiting first with his apprentice, followed closely by Captain Verdandi. Moor bowed as the Praetor Magnus left, and then turned and did so again to the Lord Inquisitor, before the stealth field re-activated, and he vanished wordlessly from sight and sense once again. And why wouldn't I? I am an assassin. Moving unseen is what I am for. Moor followed closely behind the captain as she made her way to the hanger, his footfalls imperceptible under the constant hum of the vessel's heartbeat and, soon after, the commotion of the hanger itself. He watched in silence as she spoke with her soldiers, his brow furrowed as she ordered her subordinate to dig into the classification that the Empress had conversed with Darth Imago about. Moor himself did not know what that meant, and it was clearly a secret that only certain people were supposed to understand. Some things should be left well enough alone, Captain. Invisible, Moor leaned in close as the man obeyed the captain's orders and pulled up a datapad, tapping away at its screen. 'If there is something that you need to know, then you will be told. Otherwise, I advise you to exercise far greater discretion than you currently are.' The voice, scratchy and tinted with a robotic edge, came from behind the soldier, and the assassin flickered into view. With his featureless helm, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. But then the Force Cloak dropped, and the Dark Side raked against the assassin's senses like broken glass. 'Unless, of course, you think that the Empire's secrets are yours for the taking?' This time, the tone was clear. Moor was a Knight of Ascension. It was his job to root out and eliminate traitors to the Order; an occupation he had been performing for a short while, with results that could not be argued against. He had recently even hunted down and assassinated a treasonous Sith Lord on his own, a man above him in both station and power. Yet the Imperial military was not within his scope of responsibility. But he would not overlook potential acts of treachery when they happened right in front of him.

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

9 minutes. Imago tilted his head very slightly, acknowledging that he had heard with a strange little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Ordering me about already, Viren? Well, he could hardly complain when the Empress’ plans worked out too well. He watched the others file out, momentarily held up by all that excessive bowing. Perhaps he’d get used to that over time – it was rather like being in his father’s house again. Well, it would not take 9 whole minutes to retrace his steps. Nor did it appear, as Imago strode back out into the arterial hall, that anyone had waited to enjoy his witty conversation. He paused outside the door to preen, brushing imaginary filth off his cuffs and lapels. If the others wanted a head start, well … He would not deny them. It’d be terribly awkward to wander into that invisible knight. Imago selected a slightly different route back to the hanger, to better see a little more of Viren’s battleship. Overall, it did not feel significantly different from the other capital ships he’d been on. Imago chose to regard that as a good thing. Despite wandering slightly, he was back in the hanger too soon. Perhaps Viren and his apprentice had other business to take care of before they could leave the ship. The Cresh team Captain was speaking to her men. Strangely, Knight Moor decided to reappear over there as well. If he were speaking, it was far too low for Imago to make out where he stood, with the din of the working hanger around them. Still, there was a shift in body language that put him on alert. Tch. No tact. ”Hey, Captain!” Calling to Verdandi, Imago strode toward Moor and the twi’lek soldier, an affable grin on his face. He raised one hand to clap the knight on the shoulder, as though he really knew him. As though he wasn’t a jumpy, menacing little shit. ”Introduce me to your team, would ya? We might all be sharing a page in the history books after this. I like to know who I'm workin' with.”

[Rugs]

With the introductions — such as they were — dispensed and their mission clear, Karn followed Viren into the corridor. His head spun as he grappled with the gravity of the situation before him, though he’d never show visibly; he walked a step or two behind Viren with a confidence that stopped just shy of indicating he owned the very vessel itself.

Obviously, war with the Republic was serious, but he’d not expected to receive orders from the Empress herself. Her Radiance. The beating heart of the Empire and the one woman who could set the Galaxy and its many Republic-founded wrongs right. History watches us, Karn thought as they moved through the ship’s pristine hallways. Viren’s words stoked a quiet anger. Not at his master, of course, but at the little shit who’d wormed his way onto the job. And I’ll not share glory with that one.

“Everything he does raises my suspicions, Master,” Karn said bluntly, intentionally skirting around using Moor’s name, as he often did these days. “He’s better suited to being ejected through an airlock than carrying out Her Radiance’s will.” If Karn’s tone took on a touch of petulance — well, it wasn’t the first time he’d bitched about Moor to Viren. Nor would it be the last. Karn bit back a sigh; the scar on his side from their spar-turned-attempted-mutual-murder still aggravated him.

“Nevertheless, I’ll keep an eye on him,” he acquiesced. “Someone has to.” He wasn’t looking forward to it, but then again, he looked forward to spending time in Moor’s presence about as much as he might sticking his hand into a reactor.

And even then, it was a close call.

Karn’s mind turned away from the infuriating little shit to the task at hand. They were not to aid in the direct defense of Thustra, but to recover some information from the Brackett. On its face, it seemed an odd request, but Karn wondered if things were as they seemed. “Nova Deep. I’m not familiar with that classification, Master.” Karn turned an inquisitive eye toward Viren. There was a fine line to walk between wondering aloud at the mission and sounding as if he questioned Her Raidance’s direct order. “I wonder what information that ship could have to make it so important to Her Radiance.”

They arrived in the hangar in time for Karn to spot Moor appearing out of thin air — as he had a habit of doing — and harassing one of Verdandi’s people. Karn rolled his eyes so fiercely he was surprised the ship didn’t start spinning around them. “Fucking weirdo,” he muttered under his breath.

His attention was otherwise occupied by a deckhand who approached, with a small crate on a hover-cart. “Acolyte Albrecht,” he said. “Your suit.”

“Ah,” Karn nodded. “Thank you.” He hadn’t requested his armored suit — a lighter, more mobile version of that which his master wore — but someone must have known it might be needed. He’d find time to suit up before they arrived at the derelict ship.

Even if they faced no danger aboard the Brackett, he’d prefer to be able to breathe in case the ship had already vented all of its internal atmosphere into space.

[Ysmir]

Karn's frustration with Knight Moor bordered on obsession.

Of course, the Darth could hardly blame his apprentice. Viren despised espionage; he preferred to settle his affairs face to face, vibroblade in hand if the situation called for it. Moor, and all like him, were the antithesis of every value that Viren and his ilk stood for. A strategist at heart, Viren recognized that subtlety and subterfuge had their places in war; not every fight could be won with brute force alone. But in private matters, such things became tiresome. And he found himself growing tired.

But he'd play their game for now. He trusted nothing and no one, with the possible exception of Karn -- but even that was a tall order. The more eyes and ears he had to the ground, the better.

Though none of this would complete the task at hand. Focus would be necessary from here on out. Viren's helmeted head turned downward at Karn ever so slightly as the Darth lifted his hood, just as his apprentice posed a question.

Nova Deep.

He'd found himself wondering what it had meant when Her Radiance mentioned it. Viren was not used to being kept out of the loop when it came to affairs of the Sith; that the newly promoted Imago was entrusted with such information, and he was not, was something of an annoyance to him. But he believed in Darth Renata's vision, even if he felt somewhat slighted.

"I do not know and I do not care," Viren replied to Karn's observation, "Her Radiance is not in the habit of wasting her own time. Trust that if she sees fit to send her finest warriors on this errand, then it shall be for good reason."

Large double doors slid open to reveal the grand hangar of Stalwart Dusk. The area was alight with activity following Captain Verdandi's arrival, with several shuttles in the process of being prepped for takeoff. Deckhands ran to and fro, outfitting soldiers of the Cult of Strife with gear appropriate for the mission. Every subordinate moved with practiced discipline, the result of daily drills run to ensure these very operations went as smoothly as possible when the time arrived. Like Viren himself, every single individual on this ship had anticipated the moment they'd be able to engage the Republic in battle once more. It was almost time.

Viren's thudding steps came to a halt as the deckhand approached Karn with his suit. "Don your armor, Apprentice, then meet at my personal shuttle. We depart soon."

He turned away from his apprentice and the deckhand, stomping across the hangar bay toward his shuttle. It was larger than most of the personnel carriers, outfitted with superior weaponry and defenses, as well as painted in a matte black color scheme with the bronze sigil of the Cult of Strife emblazoned on its side. Viren spared a brief glance toward Cresh Team as he walked; he noted Moor, the Lord Inquisitor, and Captain Verdandi. An odd grouping, to be sure.

At least things would be interesting.

[Meira]

Mazer could guess that this Sith who suddenly appeared was accustomed to startled reactions; hands clutching to one's chest, vertical leaps accompanied by barks of fright, things like that. He did hope the Sith was not too disappointed when he received none of these from the soldier. You didn't make Cresh Team by being easily startled. The orange twi'lek tapped a few more times on his datapad before turning it off and finally turning to look at the... man? He assumed so. Humanoid, at least.

"I take my orders from Captain Verdandi." he said to the faceplate. "She's the one over there, with the captain's bars." he gestured toward Seraphina. "I appreciate your concern, though. Very kind."

Over by Mosi, Seraphina was content to see that their team was ready to roll. It would be the ultimate embarrassment if it was Cresh Team that kept the mission waiting. She'd affected a lopsided smile, proud of her people, when she heard her rank called out. Turning, she saw that not only Darth Imago, but also the knight from the briefing room had converged on Mazer. Instantly, she snapped back into her rigid posture.

"Pillar on deck!" she barked, and all soldiers in the area stopped, coming to full attention. At Darth Imago's request, Seraphina had only to turn her gaze toward Mazer, who called out for the team to fall in. In a moment, Cresh Team was assembled in a line; twi'lek, human male, two human females, and a male mirialan, all by order of rank and standing wihtin the team. Seraphina stepped to the end closest to Imago and Moor.

"Lord Inquisitor, Cresh Team is assembled. Captain Verdandi, Sir." She stepped over by where Mazer had fallen in. "This is Warrant Officer Maz'Erani, my second in command and our comms expert. First Sergeant Mosi is our medic. First Sergeant Iziwa is our engineer. Sergeant Theran and Sergeant Pellon are weapons and demo, Sir."

Across the hangar, the unmistakable figure of Darth Viren appeared and what workers that had not stopped at Darth Imago's appearance certainly did now. The vast space was as quiet as an active hangar could be, until the Darth made his way to his shuttle and the din resumed.

---

Cresh Team, now fully suited and sealed against the possible vacuum of any hull breaches the The Brackett might have suffered, rode in silence on the second of two shuttles heading for the recovered ship. They did not have the privilege of riding on the the Praetor Magnus' own shuttle, but that was nothing they'd fuss over. Cresh Team didn't gain their accolades by riding first class. The shuttle pilot's voice came over the comms, announcing that they'd begun the docking procedure. Darth Viren's ship would also dock with The Brackett, but from the other side.

"Cresh Team." Verdandi said, standing from her seat. "Our primary objective is to assist the Praetor Magnus in clearing the ship and recovering personnel as well as the main flight logs. Keep your comms open and be ready for orders. Secondary, we will assist the Lord Inquisitor in his own assignment upon request. Be ready to reroute if called. Enemies are not expected, but this ship didn't end up over Obroa-Skai on purpose, so keep your heads on a swivel. Standard schematics should be available to you now, but don't be surprised if she's laid out a bit different."

Mazer hadn't been able to find anything even referencing Nova Deep, which only really further confirmed that it was a highly classified designation. With the Lord Inquisitor present, they likely weren't going to learn more than that. It would only really matter if Lord Imago called on her team for assistance anyway.

The shuttle gave a slight shudder as the magnetic clamps latched on to The Brackett's airlock. The familiar hiss of pressurization was also heard. A tone from somewhere overhead confirmed a good seal and Verdandi signalled for her team to stack up and prepare to enter.

---

HRS Brackett (Light Frigate)

The Brackett, as a light frigate, consists of five deck. Standard layout includes:

1. Command - bridge, astrogation, comms, conference, captain's quarters
   
2. Officer quarters, offices, common spaces, galley, port and starboard airlocks
   
3. Crew quarters, med bay, brig
   
4. Engineering, life support, sublight and hyperdrive engines
   
5. Cargo and hangar bays
   

[Blue]

The fact that the soldier did not react in abject terror at his sudden appearance should have been reassuring. The last thing anyone needed was cannon-fodder that fled at the first surprise. It indicated experience. Professionalism. To think on their feet and to stay calm in the face of the unknown. It should have been reassuring. But to Moor, it merely fuelled the fear that burned constantly inside him. Another threat to account for. I know how to deal with threats. The soldier was digging for secrets. Secrets the Empress had not entrusted to them. How was it that this man could go without consequence? His hand moved down, his lightsaber quivering on his belt. Remove the threat- Kill it now, KILL IT NOW- Then a voice called over, and Moor's head twitched towards this new sound. The Lord Inquisitor approached, coming close, too close. A hand moved, striking his shoulder, and it took all of Moor's willpower not to bite at the man at the sudden contact. Had it been a few years ago, the assassin may not have been able to stop himself. Now, it was only a close call. Darth Imago spoke, his words smooth, and Moor wanted to tear them out of his throat. His nerves were on fire and he needed a kill, the screaming of the Force deafening him. So many thoughts aboard: fear, anger, fear, hatred, fear, fear, fear. Kill them all, make the Quiet return... With a shudder, Moor pulled the Force Cloak back around himself, dulling his overactive senses and becoming nothing once again. He did not bother listening to the names of the meat sacks in front of him, simply observing the roles they had on the chance that one may prove useful. The entrance of Darth Viren caused everything to freeze for a moment, and Moor could not help but envy the presence that brought such oppressive stillness to a place. The lithe Sith craved for the day he would be able to silence a room with his mere existence. What a serene galaxy that would be. Then it was time to board. Moor stalked up the ramp of the shuttle, taking a seat nearest to it so that once they had breached the Brackett he could be the first out. In the same shuttle as Cresh Team and the Lord Inquisitor, being able to leave swiftly would be much to his liking. As the shuttle's door light turned green, signalling that it was properly sealed and about to open, Moor could not escape from the spacecraft fast enough. Being trapped in a small container was bad enough when it was just Karn, but being stuck with a whole squad of soldiers and a member of the Inner Sanctum was suffocating in the extreme. He was far more used to operating in isolation, unseen and unheard. He was out the second there was enough room for his body to slip through the doors, his senses blooming out and searching the hanger bay for any threats. When it was clear that an ambush was not immediately upon them, Moor stepped to the side and against a wall, waiting for the others to disembark. 'I can scout ahead, my lord, should you require it,' the assassin put out to the Lord Inquisitor when he exited the shuttle. Moving with a group was not something he had much experience with or inclination towards; even on the previous mission with the then Lord Imago and Darth Aurelius, Moor had moved ahead of the unit. His skills and his suit, sealed much like the others' against potential exposure to the void, was made for such ventures. If he was somehow vented and put into a compromised position, his time to return would be limited. But Moor knew that even if the others were nearby to assist, a scenario in which they would actually stop to help him would be... Unlikely.

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

Imago’s charming smile became slightly fixed as he felt something of the tension in the other Sith’s body, now combined with that disquieting disappearing trick of his. Why ever would someone want to cut themselves off from the Force like that? Of course, he could see the practical use – especially for Ascension. Yet there was only one presence in the galaxy that he would ever make himself lesser for. Cresh Team kind of blurred together in his mind, besides the Captain and her second in command. Admittedly, the latter was made memorable entirely by Moor’s unexplained interest. It was the uniforms. As long as he could read those, particulars would only matter if something went wrong. Verdandi, Maz’Erani. VerdandiMaz’Erani. Nodding and smiling, Imago let go of the other Sith and watched him stalk away. He did so enjoy irritating the Order’s more dour and aloof members, at least when he could get away with it. And it just seemed like a good idea to avoid antagonizing the soldiers before the mission. Imago had no wish to go the way of the former Grand Prophet, disappearing under mysterious circumstances in a war zone and surrounded by so many other iterations of Cresh Team here. ”Thank you, Captain. It will be an honor to have your people watching my back.” And front. He wasn’t picky and this wasn’t Teth; he’d earned glory enough against the Chorus. Imago made a brief, placating gesture. ”Let me collect my armor and I will join your team for the ride over.” Really, he shouldn’t have expected the briefing to be longer. Or for the others to want to socialize. They never did. Not even when the mission was a suicidal probe into the unknown, like that whole Teth business. Ah, well. Imago thought of this as the same set of armor, though so much of it had been replaced or repaired. Clunky and slow, it was an environmentally sealed barrier between him and the Force and he rather hated wearing it. He spent the shuttle ride politely pretending he wasn’t there and syncing his helmet comm. Upon arrival, he trailed after Moor at a leisurely pace. “Oh?” Now that was funny – and clever. The knight suggesting that Imago might order him to do what he so clearly wished to do anyway. Well, he had no reason to refuse him. ”Unless it contradicts Her Radiance’s orders, either directly or implicitly,” – and much could be argued to be implicit – ”you may pursue your own initiative. Go.” Imago turned back to watch Cresh Team, head inclined slightly. He could only hope that all the others would know the asset when they saw it. Or not. ”Ready when you are, Captain.”

[Meira]

"And move." Verdandi said, her team stepping in smooth, precise movements from the shuttle. "Secure the perimeter."

Cresh Team fanned out, each member taking their own direction and sweeping for hostiles. One by one, they confirmed the all clear. Verdandi confirmed and checked her HUD. Lord Viren's shuttle had also docked. He would be on board momentarily. She turned, eyes connecting with the two troopers that had been loaned to them from the Stalwart Dusk. They knew their orders. Hold the airlock and wait for the boarding party to return. They each nodded and she nodded back.

"Mazer, Iziwa," Verdandi said, "Head up to the command deck. Lord Viren should be making his way there. Get that flight recorder and be ready for further orders. Theran, you and Mosi take the crew decks. Sweep for any survivors. Pellon, with me."

With their orders clear, four of her team moved out. Verdandi gave Lord Imago a "yes Sir." and moved to a door. When it opened, she stepped through first, sweeping one side of the long corridor while Pellon covered the other direction. When they confirmed it was clear, Verdandi motioned for Lord Imago to follow.

"We'll be sweeping this deck, Sir. Do you have a specific destination you'd like for us to prioritize?"

---

Elsewhere on the ship...

"I told you, it's fucked! There's nothing I can do about it. I KNEW Zeneca was crazy! We're so fucked!"
"Would you shut up?"
"I TOLD YOU!"
"Yeah, well... so what? How does that help us now?!"
"We're dead! No way we make it out of this!"
"Since when were you scared of a fight?"
"That wasn't a fight, Tullia! That was suicide! Zeneca never shoulda-"
"Would you SHUT UP and get back to work? We're definitely dead if you don't get that back online!"

---

"...likely internal bleeding. Abdomen is distended, discolored. Scanner offline. Serial number on uniform unreadable. Likely damaged in the breach. Will have to wait until the patient is conscious to confirm identity. Repeated calls to the bridge unanswered. Possible breach there as well. Felt the ship shudder from jump to and then out of hyperdrive and no more sounds of battle. We might have escaped. Once patient is stabilized, will go to the bridge myself to see what the hells is going on."

---

"It's been too long. I'm gonna go-"
"NO! If he didn't come back, what makes you think you'll be any different?"
"We gotta do SOMETHING..."
"Yeah, stay here. Stay alive!"

---

The members of Cresh Team are available to any PC. They will follow orders from Viren, Imago, or Verdandi first (in that order) but will otherwise support Moor or Karn where possible. Cresh Team members are NPCs and can be controlled by anyone. Their information can be found HERE.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Before writing your post, message MEIRA on Discord with where you will be going on the ship. You will receive a brief description to aid in setting up scenes.

[Blue]

Moor was gone the moment the word "go" left Darth Imago's mouth, his stealth field flickering into place. He left with speed, however, causing the effect to blur his appearance rather than remove it entirely. The assassin dashed out of the hanger, his awareness spreading out, searching for incoming danger; right now, he needed to reach the bridge quickly, and as such he would need the Force to speed his reflexes and sharpen his senses. Recalling the blueprint he had studied on the trip in, Moor wasted no time and, as he moved, he observed the state of the Brackett. No traps, no ambushes. Yet. There were signs of damage, as to be expected. But no bodies. Yet. It took him little time to reach the lifts; the assassin may not have the brawn of the thick-headed Karn, but he was fast and had stamina that matched, so running the length of a light frigate was nothing to him. He quickly pressed the button to summon it, and it appeared soon enough, but once inside he swiftly found that access to the bridge was blocked. Moor frowned, and his paranoid mind began to whir into motion. Bridge lockdown means either borders invaded or the crew mutinied. Are Republic troops still aboard? 'No threats so far. I'm at the lifts,' Moor said into the comms, his rasping voice delivered to all of the strike team. 'But access to the bridge has been blocked. Trying stairway.' Suiting actions to his words, he moved to the nearest stairwell. The moment he opened the door, he almost gutted a corpse. A dead body, propped up against the door in death, collapsed at his feet. The assassin's lightsaber was already in his hand at the sudden motion, but he was able to restrain himself from igniting it. Moor's heart raced, and he took a few moments to compose himself, feeding on the burst of fear to heighten his senses. Still nothing... wait. Flickers of life? With so much destruction on the ship, it's hard to pin them down. 'Bodies,' Moor announced. He moved into the stairway proper, taking in the scene and kneeling to inspect the remains. 'Imperial. Four of them. Three privates, one sergeant. Traces of blaster fire and... blunt force trauma. Borders, most likely.' Suddenly, Moor caught something. A scent in the air. Familiar. 'Someone is still here, aboard the Brackett. I can smell fear. An abundance of fear. Continuing to the bridge.' Moor moved more cautiously now; the lifeforms may be Imperial... but they could just as easily be the invaders. His instincts screamed at him to hide, and so he did, proceeding up the stairs without a sound until he finally reached the entrance to the bridge. Locked. 'Confirmed: bridge is locked down. Entrance is sealed tight. Will take a while to cut it open; need something heavier for the job. Or more lightsabers. Investigating the lower area.' Time was ticking, winding up in his mind. Rather than take the stairs back down, Moor simply jumped the railing and fell, plummeting to the next exit. When he reached it, he slowed his descent with the Force and grasped the edge, pulling himself up. But more strangeness awaited. 'The way to the lower levels is locked down too. At least in this stairwell. Awaiting further orders.'

[Ysmir]

Viren's shuttle was the last of the group to depart the hangar bay of Stalwart Dusk, but was no less swift in its arrival at HMS Brackett. Within its hull, Viren meditated behind the visor of his helmet. Reaching out through the Force, he scanned the vessel across the expanse of space for any signs of life.

If they did exist, they were sparse and well hidden. The Force was murky and wild around the ship, tainted by the rampant death that had surrounded this area of the galaxy for quite some time now. It made detection difficult, to say the least. No matter. Going in blind was not something Viren was unprepared for.

Mere moments before the shuttle attached to one of the vessel's exterior airlocks, Viren rose to his feet. He glanced to his apprentice.

"Extreme prejudice will be exercised. Do not take any chances," he stated, adjusting his bracers as the cabin pressurized. Overhead, a light signalled the airlock seal had completed.

Viren exited with Karn into the decrepit halls of the derelict vessel. They were deposited on the Officer's deck, near the entrance to the command deck. He lifted a hand to his helmet's ear and flicked on his communicator.

"We have landed," he announced without stating his identity; his voice was plenty distinctive, "making way to the Bridge to begin our sweep."

As he and his apprentice stalked through the halls at brisk pace, he took note of the ship's haggard appearance - and Moor's updates. Nothing quite caught his attention until mention was made of survivors; either their own, or Republic boarders. Whatever the case may be, the news hastened Viren's movements.

Eventually, he and his apprentice ascended the stairwell mentioned by Moor and stood before the entrance to the Bridge. Stepping forward, the Darth attempted a small number of standard security override codes that he had memorized to no avail. The Bridge remained locked, and Viren found his patience wearing thin. He took a step back.

"Find a way to bypass the locked door, Moor. We shall handle the Bridge," Viren stated.

He stomped forward and thrust both palms outward. The Force buckled inward at a focal point in his field of vision that rested between the sliding doors. Viren channeled vast power through his wrenched fingertips, the telekinetic bubble expanding within the doors and beginning to warp the durasteel. The metal groaned with greater and greater volume as Viren strained only slightly, all things considered. He bowed over at the waist, all of his fury focused on removing this obstacle between him and his objective.

What lay behind that door was either traitors, enemies, or failures. Nothing would stop their retribution.