Era of Rebellion - Navigation

Sean Brandt and Christopher Levy.
Zero years after the Battle of Yavin (35:8:28) in the Essesia system: Warspite.
Captain Tiberius Anson, El-Nay Darr, and Captain Serra Eona.

Captain Tiberius Anson blissfully thrust his head back against the pillow of his bed, having just finished another encounter with Serra Eona. Only this time the late night rendezvous had come with a price. He had only been able to rest for a moment when he remembered, grabbing a sheet to wrap around his waist, before awkwardly moving to the terminal that dominated one of the bulkheads of his cabin. "Why do you even want this?" He asked her, as he entered his access code into the terminal. He knew it was a futile question to ask, as she never shared with him any of her machinations, nor did he care ... provided his needs were met ... and they had been. After a few keystrokes the technical readout of a massive new Star Dreadnought appeared on the display. It was an Executor-class star dreadnought and it would soon arrive in the system to become the Grand Moff's new flagship. It was a vanity project as the Rebellion had virtually no naval presence in the sector, but it did give the Empire an intimidating presence. A moment later a datadisk was ejected from the terminal, and he placed it into his hand. Swiveling in the chair he spun around to get a glimpse of her and sighed, shaking his head at how foolish this woman had made him. "Here," he said, as he tossed it in her direction with a smirk. "Same time next week?" He asked, as he prepared to watch her dress and scurry off to whatever it was she did.

"That, as usual, is above your pay grade, Captain." Serra Eona answered the question pretty much as she had any of his throughout this affair. While this sort of honey pot operation wasn't generally her expertise, in Captain Anson she had found an eager and willing source of information that required little more on her part than a weekly tryst. He wasn't terrible, either; over time she'd come to enjoy it well enough and, when the time came for her to break it off, she would miss it for a few days. As he went about his work at the terminal she rose from the bed to retrieve a cigarra from her uniform jacket. She lit the slender stick as she sat down on a chair which rested on the opposite side of the bed from the terminal, waiting patiently and indulging in the smoke while he retrieved the information on the Star Dreadnought. The cigarra was near finished by the time he was tossing the disk her way, which she caught and subsequently dropped on the side of the bed. The cigarra was snuffed out in a small tray on his desk, a tray that had come to be there expressly for that purpose, and entirely for her benefit. It was likely, after all, that she was one of few if any smokers on the ship. "Naturally." Her tone was as cold as ever, her face the same gaunt, uninterested expression she so often wore. Serra didn't mind Tiberius watching as she dressed, which she did without urgency, the disk eventually being slipped into her uniform jacket before she buttoned it up. "Get a little rest, Captain. You look stressed." There was no actual concern in her voice, the words coming out simply as a statement before she left, destined for the quarters that had become her home for the duration of her stay aboard the ship.

Not even a kiss goodbye, Tiberius thought to himself, before moving back from the terminal to his bed. He thrust himself back onto the bed tiredly, inhaling the lingering traces of smoke that she had left behind as a familiar scent, more than any perfume. He would not have these quarters much longer ... the ship would soon be turned over to a new commander and a new crew and he was not entirely sure how he felt about that. The star dreadnought was a powerful vessel and a prestigious command that would surely put him on the fast track to the admiralty, but at the same time lacked the familiarity that he had with this ship ... his first command in the Imperial Navy. There was something special about your first, and as his tired eyes began to shut he found himself taking careful looks at parts of this room that he had never before paid any attention to. And before he knew he found himself in the sound sleep that only occurred post-coitus.

Down the hallway marched the unmistakable presence of a Mandalorian, albeit a shorter one, and a decidedly distinct suit of orange armor that made her a very visible target. Beneath the T-shaped visor was the young face of the inexperienced El-Nay Darr, who had been confined aboard this vessel as part of the ongoing search for the Grand Moff's rebellious daughter. In that time she had been attacked by an Inquisitor, thrown out of a transport by the other bounty hunters, and forced to dress and behave in a manner that was foreign to her ... no further. When she saw Serra moving down the corridor she stopped dead in her tracks and examined the woman, tilting her helmet slightly to the left, in the manner of an animal, as she examined her. She noted the rank insignia on her chest, but such details eluded her, and from beneath her feminine Nite Owl armor and she began to address the woman. "Are you the Captain?" She asked, holding each of her gloved hands at her hips as she waited for some kind of response. She was getting off this ship ... somehow.

It didn't take great skills in observation to spot a Mandalorian who wanted to be seen, and that orange beacon walking down the corridor in her direction was instantly noticed. Serra didn't think much of her, though, mostly because all the reports so far were entirely unremarkable. Mandalorians were nothing new to her; during her service with Destab especially, Serra had worked with quite a few. This particular one, however, seemed mildly inept at best, and therefore Serra had paid her little mind. The obvious inspection she was getting did have the intelligence officer stopping, however, eyes holding on that mask as she patiently waited for whatever the bounty hunter had to say. Serra, as usual, appeared entirely unarmed...but if the mando had the means to scan, there was always the cheap blaster concealed in a custom holster on her back. Once the question came, Serra answered with none of the annoyance that might have been expected from an Imperial Officer at being addressed so directly. "I am a Captain, but probably not the one you're looking for. Captain Anson is pre-occupied in his quarters. I'm sure there's an officer assigned to handle whatever concerns you might have." She highly doubted Tiberius handled these people directly most of the time.

In an uncharacteristic display for a Mandalorian she let out an obnoxious loud *huff* from beneath the protective dome of her helmet. She had worn her armor because she had half a mind to barge into the captain's quarters and intimidate him into releasing her ship and allowing her free passage off the system. As she had been spirited off Mandalore by her parents who did not want to live under the Imperial regime she was more Corellian than Mandalorian ... her armor a relic of the Clone Wars that her mother had hidden away and that she herself had painted this obnoxious shade of orange in sign of her lust for life. "Can you get me off this trash barge?" She asked in a loud voice, that attempted to sound commanding, but was betrayed by her youth and inexperience. She took a step forward towards the woman wondering if her people's reputation had preceded her, but so far the only Imperials she had encountered were decidedly unimpressed and quite condescending towards her.

The fact the Mandalorian was decked out in her armor wasn't particularly surprising, nor was the age of it. Serra wasn't exactly studied in these things, but she did know a little about the heirloom like reverence many Mandalorians gave to their armor, as well as the garish colors some preferred. The hunters could also be quite intimidating to most, but this one lacked the size or presence to have much effect. Serra had been unimpressed and unmoved by the efforts of far more powerful beings, and so the effort was entirely wasted. It showed in the lack of any shift in her expression, in how her eyes simply held on the cross of the visor. Where the Mandalorian's voice rose, her own remained even and deadpan. "I could. I likely won't, though." This sort of thing fell under the realm of issues Serra kept out of. While she absolutely could undermine most anyone's command on this ship, it almost never benefited her work to do so outside of certain extreme circumstances. "You'll be permitted to leave when the command staff sees fit for you to do so."

The captain's answer did not sit well with the young Mandalorian, and she balled her right hand tightly into a fist. She let out a scream from deep within her, as if she were throwing a temper tantrum, before slamming her armored hand against the nearby bulkhead to channel her rage. A moment after her fist connected with the durasteel she regretted her decision as a wave of pain that began in her hand soon reverberated throughout her entire, slender frame. She began frantically waving her hand to help suppress the throbbing sensation, but it was of little use ... the deed, foolish as it was, had been done. It was clear that this was no regular Mandalorian. No skilled warrior, but rather an unchecked ball of energy that was in need of containment. A moment later her hands moved to the side of her dome, and she removed the helmet to reveal the face of a beautiful young woman in her early-20s. Her hair had been cut short at the top, and shaved short on the sides revealing her natural brown hair color that betrayed her blonde dye job. The helmet was tucked away beneath her left arm, as she turned her eyes on the woman directly, rather than from beneath the safety of her heirloom helm. "Well where is the 'command staff'? How does anyone find anything around here? Everything looks the same! I don't even know where I am right now!" She said, revealing an increasing level of exacerbation at her predicament. She wished she had never accepted the stupid bounty.

The fist didn't go unnoticed, and it drew the one and only reaction Serra would give. A shift of her eyes, briefly, to the curled hand, noting it. Her eyes were right back on the Mandalorian's face but the hand was remembered and kept note of from the corner of her eye in case the bounty hunter decided to take a swing. No Mandalorian worth their weight in credits would do such a thing on an Imperial vessel, but the fact this woman was only a mando in dress was becoming increasingly obvious. Hunters could be unpredictable, but someone like this, a veritable child with fancy armor and blasters, was downright dangerous. All the same, even as the fist nailed into the bulkhead and the woman recoiled in pain, as the helmet was pulled off and she was stared down, Serra did not flinch. A full fledged Inquisitor hadn't been able to break her cool, and this upstart Mandalorian certainly wasn't going to manage it. "There's a handful of information terminals around the ship, feel free to access them for basic schematics." It would do well enough for a guest, at least. "As for the command staff...well, Captain Anson's quarters are directly behind me. Intrude at your own risk." Anson wasn't as cruel as some, but she doubted even he would tolerate being stormed in on by a green bounty hunter. "If you insist on approaching him, I suggest you do all your screaming and punching now. I don't particularly care about an unruly bounty hunter throwing fits in hallways, but the Captain might not be so inclined to turn a blind eye to you scuffing up his ship."

El-Nay listened to Captain Eona, but only a handful of her words penetrated her thick skull. "Thank you," she said to the woman, not catching the entirety of her meaning, and instead being content with the set of directions that would lead her to the captain's cabin. She hastily brushed the intelligence officer, before pulling her helmet up over her head, letting it rest there for a moment before bringing it down to conceal her young face. She had spent too much time already aboard this ship and she needed off ... no matter the consequences. She could not stand the Empire for what they had done, and were doing, to her people, and no amount of money they were paying her was enough to wash to their stain off her honor. When she reached what she thought was the captain's quarter, she angrily forced open the door and made her way into the room for the expected confrontation to demand off this ship.

Captain Anson awoke furiously when he heard the door to his cabin open, which immediately stirred him from his blissful rest. "I ordered no interruptions!" he yelled at the top of his lungs instinctively, without checking to see who it was that had entered. When his hand finally made it to activate the control for the lights it still took a moment for his eyes to focus ... only then did he see the Mandalorian standing before him. He did not react with fear, but simply out of more anger. "What are you doing here, scum? You're not authorized to be here!" he said to her, his hand quickly moving towards the comm panel to call security.

El-Nay Darr quickly unleashed a blast of her DT-57 heavy blaster pistol, which impacted on the comm panel, frying it in a small electrical explosion. "None of that, Captain," she warned, as she moved closer deeper into the room and closer towards the man. "You can relax. I'm not going to kill you. I just need to get off this ship," she explained to him, in a young, feminine voice that betrayed her true nature beneath the helmet. Her left hand moved towards the electronic identification card that had restricted her from departing the Star Destroyer. "Grant me access to leave and I'll be on my way," she said to him, before raising her blaster to the man's forehead. "Do it!" she ordered loudly, as she offered up the datacard again.

Tiberius did not take kindly to being threatened in such a manner, but there was little he could do about it *now*. "Mandalorian scum," he muttered beneath his breath, before he snatched the datacard out of her hand. "And where do you think you'll go? Huh?" he asked her, as he used his authorization code to clear her starfighter for departure. He then offered it back towards her, glaring at her helmeted head defiantly.

"Thank you," El-Nay said, before taking the datacard and tucking it safely away in one of the pouches on her belt. "I'll worry about where I go, but first I have to make sure I get off this ship," she informed him, bringing her gauntleted hand down upon his head to render him unconscious with a quick strike from her Mandalorian armor. She then pressed down on her other gauntlet to unleash a cable that wrapped around his body. Too naive to realize just what a mistake she had made, she excitedly hurried from the cabin to find her starship and get out of here. But, he was right, she had no idea where she would be going or what she would do next.

Untitled 1

Copyright Era of Rebellion 2005-2018. All Rights Reserved
Terms of Use | Legal Notices | Privacy Policy | Press Release | Disclaimer