Bespin's Open Orbit

A lone warship jumped into the Bespin system, the Providence Dreadnought carried the sigil of Krennel Gulch, along with the markings of the Confederacy.

A lonely shuttle sailed down into the station, escorted by two Cloud City fighters.

Archais sat at the small conference table with a cup of something hot sitting untouched on the table in front of him. Although this was his first experience fighting off the dregs of cryosleep sickness, it was hardly his first encounter with discomfort. What was affected the most was his ability to perceive speech, which was apparent now that he was amid the ship's five crew who seemed to have no idea how loud they were talking. It aggravated him.

As I was saying, how did you end up in the cryo pod? They're uncommon in the last few decades, most folks favoring carbonite as they do. Imagine you're feeling the reason why right about now, eh?"

This was the captain, or whatever equivalent this ship seemed to hold. He was a younger man, a few days' black stubble showing that this wasn't a military vessel. He looked the captain in the eye in response.

"I am. To be frank, I have no memory of how I wound up in the pod or what circumstances might have forced an escape from my ship."

At that, a larger man seated across from him grunted and spoke up.

"Little too convenient, isn't it, pal? Boss, you know I know how to spot a rat. Cryosleep plays hell with your system, but it wouldn't completely wipe memory like that, even if he was under for eight years. I say we space him and be done with it."

The captain offered his man a demure smile and spoke in answer.

"You'll have to forgive Ames. He's had a bit of a rough-and-tumble past and that makes him see the worst in folks. He means well."

Archais never took his eye from Ames. He knew the man meant anything but well.

"He does raise a good point though. We need answers before we can decide what to do with you. What's the last thing you remember, no matter how far back?"

He kept his eye on Ames a moment longer before looking to the captain. The two would have a reckoning, but it would come later. The immediate problem was his story - surely the crew would be difficult to persuade of safe passage if they knew his identify as a Sith Lord guilty of murders in the hundreds, perhaps thousands. If it came down to it, he could add to that number right here. There were five total in the small conference room, and he didn't feel any others about the ship - as well, he doubted any who ventured with this sort had the wherewithal to obscure their presence from him. Five was trivial; he'd overpowered more combatants in less space with fewer means at his disposal, even in his current quite-literally-disarmed state.

Confident as he was in his ability to eliminate the crew and commandeer the ship, his instincts told him to bide his time. Given that he had no idea where he was, what kind of ship he was on, or what his plans were past the immediate situation, it seemed a wise course. It took him a moment to formulate a narrative that would suit his purposes, and he spoke.

"My last recollection was uninspiring. I'd returned to my crew from a jaunt alone, and we were planning our next move in the Outer Rim. I can't recall any hostility, which leads me to believe we may have been ambushed. It was most probably in such an action that I fell into my current state." He shrugged his right shoulder in a silent indication. "For me to simply abandon ship would have been and is...uncharacteristic. Nothing short of the utter destruction of my ship or my unwilling intervention of the crew would have removed me from a situation where my ship was under attack. That being the case, I can only surmise that we were ambushed, I was incapacitated, and my command staff saw it necessary to have me forcibly ejected from the ship."

"Do you have any idea when this was?"

Archais pondered a moment, then said a date aloud. The captain looked to Ames, and the subordinate's glare hardened.

"So you're telling us that your convenient little memory lapse happened right around the time the Dysnomia Pirates reared their heads? That pirate crew had been the worst thing to happen to the Bespin shipping lanes in near a standard decade."

At that, Archais reacted physically. It was subtle, but the captain picked up on it.

"Does the name ring a bell?"

"It was the name of my ship."

"What kind of ship was that?"

Here was a measured risk, to reveal that he was the commander of a warship.

"Ardent-class fast frigate. Heavily modified."

Another look between the captain and Ames.

"Space him. Now."

The captain held a hand to Ames, and spoke again to Archais.

"So the most notorious pirate gang in half a generation is using your ship, and your story starts where theirs does. How do you expect us to interpret that?"

Archais responded, his body already feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline that preceded wanton violence. He stayed in control, attempting to gain the upper hand in the conversation.

"Interpret it as you will, but know that I am not responsible for the ship's actions since I was attacked. What's more, it may be that our interest align. That ship was designed according to my specifications and I served aboard for the better part of a decade. There isn't a part of it I am unfamiliar with. If I can get aboard, I stand a chance of retaking the ship and removing your pirate threat. Your shipping lanes are restored, and I have my life back."

The captain raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Setting aside the question of how you had the resources to oversee the design of a warship, do you expect me to believe you can singlehandedly take down a fully-crewed frigate? That has to be a crew of-"

"-Fourteen-hundred at full complement. The ship can run on a skeleton crew of just over eight dozen if need be, though if your pirate friends have been active as long as you say, my guess is they've roused a full crew."

"And you really think you can secure a ship against that?"

"Yes."

The captain was silent a moment before Archais sensed a resolve coming from him.

"Do you plan to do it one-handed?"

Archais laughed without smiling, once.

"If you've a spare prosthetic I'd gladly accept it."

"We can do you one better. Dalex, reroute us to Lehon."