Open Space and Hyperspace

The door slid open. “What’s your next port? Because I need actual clothes before I go my own way.” Lia finished the buckle on her belt and shouldered past him before he could get a clear look (why give him the pleasure?), clearly unhappy with her situation. “I’ll clean your damn galley as Dominatrix Barbie, but this shit?” She turned, gesturing to the outfit as she walked backwards. “This does not blend in. I need to blend in.” The fugitive wheeled back around and continued down the hallway. “And who knows what kind of sweaty hooker was all up in this leather. Gross. ...you gonna show me where to ‘secure’ myself or do I need to punch you again?” she snapped, pausing halfway down and sending a green glare over her shoulder.

Lap? Ugh. Men. Face deadpan, Lia stared at Rik for a minute in deadly disgusted silence before retreating back to the chair farthest away from his. Her family, the scheming criminals they’d been, had been slaughtered, lifestyle of the rich and famous ripped from her and burned to ashes, there was a price on her head and she lived in constant paranoia, but it was this man’s bulletproof confidence and sharp, smarmy spacer attitude that got under her skin and pissed her off worse than anything else she’d encountered. And he had to know that, because the more she glowered, the more he laid it on, and she couldn’t not be pissed off about it because he annoyed her so damn much, so the circle continued.



“Figgy?” Lia quickly strapped herself in, wishing she were back in her little locker, safe from presumptuous assholes and turbulence alike. She had lots of experience weathering rough rides in weird places. The blond cast a dubious look at the droid in the co-pilots seat. “..Does it like pudding or did you just run out of brainpower trying to name it? And where the hell are we going anyway? You never did say. I need to know, it's important.”

With an expression that would've sent The Emperor running, Lia dragged the jacket zipper back up to her neck, jaw set and eyes narrowed. “I was preparing to hack your system to find out back in my locker before your damn floating ball-tech interrupted me,” she snapped. “But beds and clothes have zero to do with it. Now it’s different because I’m out in the open, and you’re-..”



Lia pulled up short. He looked interested in her answer. Time to shut up. “No, you know what? It’s not that different at all. As long as it’s not Coruscant or Falleen or Ord Mantell, I really don’t care. I’ll get through, I always do.” She fell silent and looked away, the conversation clearly closed, but she could feel his eyes on her. “Do yourself a favor, space boy, and don’t ask me questions. …in fact, don’t talk to me at all, much easier that way.”

The Dysnomia, dark flagship of the Second Imperium, cut its way through hyperspace with its lords in tow.

Archais and Kruor, after their rendezvous with the rest of the assembled Sith Lords on Korriban, had joined with the ship outside the planet's orbit and now traveled to their first destination. The team had spent a few hours getting outfitted, each receiving a carryall that would need to carry the entirety of what they brought. Of course, all but his was shielded against scanners, so the rest of the team would bring with the gear they truly needed.

Archais himself would be going with virtually nothing in the way of weaponry, instead armed simply with his wits and his ability to deceive the ones he would encounter. In truth he needed little else. Now, though, he stood at the fore of the conference room just off the bridge, indicating on the holographic display the specifics of their mission.

"Kamino, he said simply, a tempestuous world whose natives are renowned clonemasters. We need an army, and they can deliver it."

The display shifted, transitioning to an itemized list of the last several hundred major orders placed with the Kaminoans. It had taken their intelligence forces, who commanded a significant portion of the Imperium's operational capabilities, still hundreds of man-hours to compile this information.

"What we see is that in no fewer than six cases over the past two standard years, the six cases were highlighted, then enlarged to reveal their specifics, we've identified that the time frame for completion does not correlate with the known capabilities of their most formidable facilities. Average cloning time per unit can be seen here, and in these six cases this mark is far outstripped. What's more, the order fulfilled requires high-spec units; were this a simple Gamorrean or constructor species this would be unremarkable, but what this data indicates is that the Kaminoans have classified elements of their cloning programs. Additionally, each of the six was submitted by or on behalf of funding by a top-thirteen galactic financial index. The implication is that the Kaminoans have some premium facility that is costly, but clearly effective.

What we will be doing, gentlemen, is using the credentials of Senex Juvex to insert ourselves in the ordering process, whereupon we will ascertain the nature of these premium facilities, commandeer or subvert them, and put them to use in our service. I will be posing as the appointed representative of Juvex, with Hyruza as my second and leader of the infiltration team whose main objective will be to cripple the faciliity's transport and communication capabilities. Kruor will be coordinating the force that will arrive to assist in our capture of the city once the defenses are deactivated. As such...." Archais pursed his lips, pondering. A team of operatives would be too high-profile for this manner of task. He needed a single, elite infiltrator with at least something of a proven record. He would normally have no issue simply reassigning Kruor to such a task, but his second was needed in the ship.

He turned to the anonymous aide and gave his orders.

"Lieutenant, parse the duty roster and get me the highest-echelon single operative on the ship at the moment. Quickly."

Nox Kastra. The name wasn't familiar to him, but then that was hardly uncommon in an organization as large and compartmentalized as his. What mattered was that the people he empowered believed in her. To question their judgment was to question his own, and a quick glance through her file and he was satisfied. He gestured to a seat while remaining standing.

"Kastra. Very well, sit."

He turned back to the holographic display and brought up a new list, this of personnel currently on board.

"You both have two standard hours to assemble your team, no more than two additional operatives. Gather your necessary tools for infiltration of this degree, and be prepared to go very incognito should the need arise. We cannot guarantee the nature of the Kaminoans' high-spec facility, so be prepared to adapt and overcome. Dismissed."


An Omwati? Itzal would have some thoughts on that...

Slithering streaks of blue and white engulfed their occupied transport-- stars stretched across the ripple of their tunnel, holding the shuttle snug in warm embrace. As the team neared its destination, Archais began to debrief the infiltration team in summary of their assigned duties of sabotage, but not soon before the fellow Sith enlightened them on he and his colleagues recent uncovering of the Kaminoan's most recent projects. Curious, though. While the clone master's last manufacturing jobs seemed a bit odd, it was not all that surprising that they had adopted a more conservative route in their line of work. Thanks to Palpatine's disorderly conduct some standard years ago, the Kaminoans became far more reclusive than before, and thus limiting the extent of their brilliant biological engineering to any offworlder that sought their services-- and Archais was no exception. Even disguised as some first-rate corporate representative, persuading the ivory skinned architects would certainly pose a challenge, but it was one that they were more than willing to undertake. It was the first step of the plan that could not afford failure-- one that served as a pivotal foundation for the Sith's goals. Undoubtedly, there were some aboard the ship that had plans of their own that Hyruza trusted would not compromise the mission.

Upon that thought, the Sith Lord's eyes, filled with colors of fire and cinder, made their way upon a canny and naturally elegant looking Omwati. Their feathery-like coiffures always looked so neat and tidy. And to Hyruza's hopes, her pleasing aesthetic would be reflected in her ability to help insure their success. The job needed to be quick and orderly. The margin for error would be small. The Omwati was an unexpected guest to Hyruza's knowledge, but glancing over the datapad provided the Sith with enough assurance that she was up to the task. Two standard hours was just enough time to flesh out their plan. Hyruza and Kruor had already been informed prior to Archais's briefing about their key targets of infiltration in full, but Hyruza assumed that Nox had been apprised as well. The white-haired Sith Lord found his opportunity to exchange a few words with the Omwati when he saw her holding her hand to her throat a few times. If this was to run smoothly, Hyruza would first have to know a little bit about the type of person he was to be working with. He had hoped to have done the same with Kruor, but he seemed to have isolate himself on some other part of the shuttle.

"Kamino's climate is rarely pleasant. We'd hate for your cold to get the better of you shortly after we arrive," he paused to introduce himself, "Lord Hyruza, a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

That was all he needed to reveal in his introduction. While everyone was on the same side, so it seemed, it was far too early to reveal anything other than names. Perhaps others could get away with it, but not with Hyruza's reputation. Though, admittedly, his absence from the galaxy bred unfamiliarity with many of these new Sith he had encountered and he intended to keep it that way for a time. There was always an advantage in keeping secrets in the dark, but more often than not, secrecy is perfected to a fault. A silent man shrouded in mystery breeds skepticism among others. Many a time, shadows loom far larger than intended. What good is covertness when a man's shadow speaks louder than his own voice? The status of the Inquisitorious, an old faction he once ruled that wielded some of the finest and loyalist Sith and dark side practitioners, was one that was unknown. The Cerean System, for whatever bizarre reason, had recently been deemed uninhabitable, making his space station and fleet have to relocate. Of course, that's what he had assumed. He trusted Admiral Karv would have been smart enough to do so. As a result of his absence and lack of any sort of communication between his Admiral and fleet, Hyruza's power base had dwindled significantly. His best bet to reforming that was making as many connections, old and new ones, as possible. Obviously, the Omwati was not sick. If anything the Sith Lord's intent was to create a comfortable atmosphere before they arrived at one that was not so much so. A little bit of humor never hurt anyone... though many instances say otherwise. He had already noticed that her vocal chords had been warped by means of the Force, which would make for an interesting conversation.

Kastra and Hyruza departed the room, and even from here Archais could feel their interaction in the Force. Good. He had a few things to see to as well, chiefly dealing with the handling of the artifact and what Ferris would have the ship doing while he and his team were out. The admiral stood by, and Archais turned to him, still seated.

"Ferris. Several of our 'compatriots' have volunteered their services in analyzing the shard. Their credentials have been uploaded to your datapad. Co-opt any operatives you feel are necessary and see to it that our guests are provided what they need to pursue their research."

"Sir. And what of your team?"

"We are stepping into an unknown facility under the presumption that it even exists. When we have made landfall I will find a way to communicate a signal to the ship, whereupon you are to monitor the station's defenses and, when they are dropped, signal our reinforcements. We will take the city, and from there see to the cloning procedures."

Ferris nodded and departed the room without answer.

Archais spun his chair through a half-circle, turning to take in the holographic display. Kamino was a storm-battered world, one that had compelled its residents to undergo an incredible societal transformation in the name of preserving themselves. Genetic manipulation, strict adherence to cultural dicta, ruthless extermination of nonconformance. In a way, it was not dissimilar to the mindset of the Sith, though perhaps a bit ubiquitous in its application. Still, this would be an excellent testbed for what he planned for the galaxy at large and would be an ideal starting point.

First, though, it would require the three to get their hands dirty. It had been some time since he'd been in the field, and already the call of subterfuge sang to him. There'd been a time when he would be on the move for months, nearly a year at a time, whether due to having no place to settle or being too involved with his work to stop moving. He yearned for those days still, but duty called first. Already he ran though scenarios in his mind, preparing his cover and falling into the character he was to play.

He rose from the chair, cuing off the display, and turned to exit the room with a dark grin.

The Kaminoans thought themselves superior, as the pinnacle of planetary evolution. It was time to show them what true superiority could inflict.

Archais, Hyruza and Kastra were outfitted and departed via shuttle for Kaminowhile the Dysnomia departed, continuing its ambling quest for parts unknown.

Stormro chuckled softly in response to Aysa's request that he refrain from such formalities. "While I see no reason why you should not be considered lady-like I shall do my best not to use such honorifics with regards to you. As for my choice in training weapons yes, there are indeed reasons. Nel has languished for her entire life amongst the Jedi and their teachings have done much to stunt her growth; I intend to reverse the damage as rapidly as possible, and in order to do that I cannot be wasting time waiting for major injuries to heal and thus I do not wish to use a proper Lightsabre until I am confident that she is ready for it. On the other hand, however, a training sabre lacks proper motivating potential with the pitiful amounts of pain that it inflicts upon those who fail to properly defend themselves..." Moving his gaze to his apprentice, the Nagaian Sith Lord's smile shifted into a dark, almost sadistic seeming grin.

"On that note Nel, if you will accompany Belbe as she returns to the Wraith she will show you where my chosen weapon for our upcoming training duel is; it should be in small, decorated box. Do not open the box and return as soon as you have acquired it." With his command given he returned his focus to the conversation, Belbe rising from her seat to accompany Nel as Stormro continued speaking almost as if Nel were not present. "As I was saying; neither option appeals to me. A solid, hardwood training sword, on the other hand, has enough weight and strength to break bones and leave deep muscle bruises that should take some time to heal without fully inhibiting her ability to fight in the meantime.  I intend for her to suffer more intensely and for longer than she ever has before, and in the process I will forge her into a proper Sith who is actually worthy of my teachings..." There was an almost imperceptible hint of bitter venom to his comment about a "proper Sith", almost as if Nel was not in fact the first person who he had trained.

*Ver'metus frowns as he watched Aysa with the droid and turns his head back to look at Stormro. His expression flat and cold as per the norm, Ver'metus had lived a hard life, one full of more scars, wounds, and injuries than he ever cared to remember, the amount of prosthetics his own body had accumulated could attest to it.*

Each to their own. It is not me they rob by taking wounds and healing. If they are not strong enough to defend themselves then they are the one that suffer, not I. If they die, I will find one more worthy of my time to impart my teaching to. I don't have time, nor patience for the weak.

*Ver'metus nods slightly to the departing apprentice, he watched her walk off, the only hope this one had was her Master, He would not expect her to survive as his. He frowns a moment again and turns her attention to Aysa again, the woman had been for the most part a mystery to him.*

So then Aysa, what corner of the galaxy did you come from?