Era of Rebellion - Navigation

Brandon Barnes, Jessica Kennedy, Christopher Levy, Michael Whittaker, and Anonymous.
One year before the Battle of Yavin (34:10:16) in the Tshindral system: Gateway Space Station.
Fiona Archer, Rake Carson, Major Kerrie Kiley, Colonel Jeremiah Namith, and Maiko von Ribbentrop.

Maiko was one of the few Pirates who had actually accepted the pardon of the Empire which had been offered to all Pirates and Privateers. Most captains had scoffed at it, believing that it was the Empire's attempt to stop the bleeding and only peeled back their lips, and prepared for more attacks. Maiko knew better, it was the Empire's attempt to "soften up" the Pirate groups before they launched an all out attack on Piracy in the Outer Rim and around "Trouble spots." like the StarForge Nebula. The movements of supplies and ships had been un unmistakable, so she'd jumped at the pardon when she saw it. Besides, the odds of surviving went down with every cruise. All it took was one mistake, and she had amassed a substantial fortune over several cruises. And with the execution of Talandro Starlyte for the murder of Commander Brezzic Mar and his hand in a Boost smuggling ring. The lease on Gateway Space station had come up, and she'd jumped at the chance. She had reached deep into her savings to jump on the offered lease, and had snapped up the station. She'd decided to keep the name. At least for now. Maiko Station sounded rather...vanity driven. The Vagabond Mantis was in dock at the Station, with her starfighters transferred over to the Station. She was however, somewhat dismayed at the obvious poor state that the station was in during her inspection tour. Sure it looked nice from the outside, but the inside was another story. There would have to be some major reconditioning done on the entire station...yet more credits to be thrown into the Station. But if she was going to settle down somewhere, this would be it. She sighed softly as she leaned down, peering at yet another uncovered panel with exposed frayed wires which occasionally sparked. Pipes leaked...there were strange noises. She was dressed simply, in her standard tan colored tank-top and a pair of light brown colored shata leather pants and a pair of stout boots. Twin SSK-7's were on her hips, both with the safeties on, and set to kill. She was walking around the outer ring...perhaps she should rename this place from Gateway Space Station to the Credit Pit.

The door to the loan docking bay reserved for Imperial use slowly opened, revealing what appeared to be a Human female in her late-twenties. The woman stood just a hair over five feet tall and wore the unmistakable uniform of the Galactic Empire. This variation was a svelte black number reserved for members of the Imperial Stormtroopers Corps. The rank squares pinned above her left breast indicated she was an officer. Next to her, she was dragging a duffle bag that was nearly the same height as her. It was clear that the woman was "moving in," but the reasons were not. The previous commander having been murdered left an opening for this less than glamorous assignment and her commanding officer, eager to put her out to pasture after several recent failures had chosen the 105th Stormtrooper Platoon. An irregular unit on a backwater space station was the equivalent of 'getting lost.' The message was clear to her, but she would make the most of the assignment. When she entered the main corridor of the station she finally released her taught grip on the bag and had a look around. She exhaled a deep sigh as the realization that she was forced to spend the next several months here finally hit home. Although she was disappointed, and had little respect for the station and its personnel, she vowed to nevertheless perform her duties the best she could. Step one would involving finding the station's new owner.

A beep from her wrist comlink jarred her out of the inspection tour. Which was a relief, considering she was starting to get sick to her stomach, watching all of her credits fly out the window fixing things up. Her new Imperial liaison had arrived, and she needed to meet them, she acknowledged the message and hurried quickly towards the Imperial hanger, assuming that the liaison would be somewhere near there. The Arkanian paused for a moment to freshen herself up a bit, make sure all the strands of white hair were in the right place, that her clothes were decent looking before she cleared her throat, and stepped into the Imperial Sector of the Outer Ring of docking bays, which was reserved for their use, looking around for somebody who looked like they might be the liaison. She hadn't had time to do any research on the person...

With a hearty groan Kerrie lifted the duffle bag off the deck-plating and hoisted it over her left shoulder. Her face twitched slightly as the weight was a bit much for her, but she would not allow for the embarrassment of having someone else carry her bag. Slowly, she walked down the corridor of the station's outer docking ring. She kept her eyes peeled for any signage indicating the location of the station manager's office. The dilapidated condition of the facility resulted in most of the paint being chipped off, denying her an easy time of finding her destination. When her eyes came upon the Arkanian she deiced it best to ask for directions, rather than hauling this duffle around the entire station in circles for the next several hours. As she approached the woman, she allowed the duffle to fall from her shoulder and drop on the floor ... the weight of her personal belongings and unmentionables making a dull *thud* that echoed throughout the otherwise empty corridor. "Hello," she said to woman in a polite tone, her face by now flushed red from exertion and dotted with beads of sweat, "Can you direction me to the station manager's office?"

She blinked, and nodded a little. "Why, you looking to talk to her?" She asked as she looked down at the woman, Maiko was a good deal taller, and with those boots she was indeed looking down upon the Imperial, although she smiled sliding her head under the strap and letting it hang across her chest. Obviously such a weight was no hindrance for the Arkanian.

"Yes. I need to ... check ... in," Kerrie responded to the Arkanian woman in front of her. Her voice slowed slightly as her attention drifted from the conversation due to the display of strength the woman had just performed in front of her. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her brow ruffling as she watched the bag that she could barely lift be hoisted as if it weighed nothing. She swallowed, her mouth slightly parched before moving her hand to her forehead to wipe away some of the beads of sweat that were running down near her eyes. "Thank you," she said to the woman in a confident tone, "but I can manage carrying my own bag."

"Sure. If you want to make it to office soon, you'd better let me handle it." She said with a grin. "Besides, you've already met the new owner. I'm Maiko von Ribbentrop." She said, sticking out her right hand towards the woman, a large smile crossing her face. "I haven't moved into the office yet, so there would be no point in going there." She pointed out. "Although it might be a good idea to take this to your office, don't you think?" She said with a tilt of her head. She did want to be friendly with her Liaison Officer, would make things go a lot more smoothly.

"That's the new owner?" Kerrie thought to herself, a bit taken a back by the revelation. When she saw the hand coming to shake hers she panicked, having just used the hand to dry her forehead. Quickly, she rubbed the palm of her hand against her own thigh, removing the residue as best she could. With a nervous grin she raised the slightly improved hand and took her hand in a friendly shake. "I am Ma... Commander Kiley," she said, introducing herself. It was the first time she had addressed herself under her new title ... it would take some getting used to, although she did like the sound of it. "Please," Kerrie said as she ended the handshake, "Lead the way. I can't seem to make out any of the signs in this corridor."

"Well, yeah. I haven't gotten around to replacing them. Well, I haven't even seen the whole station, to be honest." She said with a laugh. After she had shaken the Major's hand she turned and walked off, she was naturally quite quick on her feet, and her long stride would be difficult to keep up with, not that she meant it. She adjusted the strap of the duffel bag as she walked. Aha, yes, that was right, the office was near the 105th's barracks, now she remembered. She took a right turn at the nearby tube, to lead the both of them towards the Major's new office, which was, upon arrival and Maiko unlocking the door with her voice and palm-print, and then leaving the locking system open for the major to set as she wished...rather bare. It was large, and spacious, but rated only a metal desk, a chair, a terminal, and a cot that had been borrowed from the 105th's barracks and placed in here to give her somewhere to sleep. There wasn't another else except for a set of environmental controls on the walls. " you are. Home sweet home..." Even Maiko had to admit the place looked rather...dismal.

Kerrie followed behind Maiko as best she could, but she was several steps off the pace. The muscles in her lower back that had plagued her for the past year had been tweaked from her foolish attempt to lift her duffle entirely by herself. She felt the familiar twinge of sharp pain, which elicited a temporary pained expression upon her face. She clenched her jaw and dealt with the pain as she had done countless times before. Pushing herself, she never fell more than six or seven meters behind. When she arrived at the office she stopped at the door near Maiko. She took a minute to adjust her tunic, realizing the importance of the moment. She crossed the threshold with eager anticipation of taking command, but was instead rewarded with one of the most ghastly sights she had ever seen ... datapads were piled up in the corner, the filing system consisted of data chips piled in boxes in no particular order and the holonet database terminal was manufactured by Humans. She was expecting it to be bad, but not this bad. "I see..." she said quietly, more to herself than to Maiko. She strode across the office towards 'her' desk, but took an awkward step back when she realized Commander Marr's personal belongings still remained. "I guess no one had a chance to remove these..." she said, as she turned her attention back to Maiko. It was always uncomfortable walking into a position inherited from a dead person, but it was virtually unbearable to find actual evidence of their presence.

Was the dripping coolant pipe in the corner mentioned? Probably not, maybe it was hoped that Kerrie wouldn't notice it until later. "Well...I ah...err.. I don't think any of us felt we were...authorized to dig through Imperial just left it. If you want I guess we could have it all trashed. But I am not sure what you may or may not find useful." She said with a shrug of her shoulders up and down as she stared over at the desk, and then around again. Also, she hadn't wanted to go digging through a dead man's things as well, so the Imperial Security excuse was a convenient one, after all. "Well, I don't want to hover over your shoulder, I am sure you want to settle in." She said as she removed the bag from her shoulder and set it onto the ground. "We can discuss particulars later, it's no worry. Get comfortable and have a walk around the station." She said with a smile, and a nod. "Things will be rough here for a bit, but I have big plans for this station." She said with a beaming smile.

Kerrie looked over her should at the dead man's desk and swallowed uncomfortable ... the air was getting to her ... it had a musky, stale scent from the room being sealed for quite some time. She shook her head slightly before refocusing on Maiko. "I think I will change into my gear and then make a walk of the station," she explained, making an excuse to get out of the office, "I will look for you after I've had a chance to familiarize myself a bit and we can discuss any station policies I may not be familiar with." With that Kerrie smiled at the Arkanian, deciding to make the most of a bad situation.

"Fair enough. More like we will have to make them up from scratch." She said with a wink and a grin before she backed out. "Talk to you later!" She said as she turned and left, thinking that it had gone rather well. She was somewhat surprised the liaison was a female...but she seemed pleasant. She had hoped she would not get the standard imperial officer, and it seemed she hadn't. Good, she grinned as she walked out of the office area, and walked into the passageway that lead to the Falling Star Saloon, she hadn't walked this way before. And already she was glancing about, picking out more trouble spots, things that would need repairing or patching. More money.

Kerrie quickly exited the office, leaving her duffle bag to wait for later. She wanted to get to work. As she stepped out, the door locked behind her. She proceeded across the short distance between the office and the barracks. She had hoped to find the barracks in a better state of readiness, but their condition was equally horrifying. Lockers were left open, equipment was strewn about carelessly, and the smell reminded her of that time she saw a slaughterhouse on Rodia. "This is unacceptable," she said angrily, chastising the few soldiers that were present. She shook her head, deciding it could wait. It had been a long trip from Esseles and a difficult move. She just wanted to get to work. Proceeding towards the row of lockers she found the one still clearly marked CDR. B. MARR. As she approached it, she sighed nervously before opening the door. To her relief the quartermaster had removed the previous commander's equipment and stocked it with new ... or at least new by Gateway Space Station standards ... equipment. A satisfied look appeared upon her face as she took an inventory.

Kerrie unfastened her tunic and then slid it off her shoulders, revealing the regulation active-wear bra beneath. Treating the tunic as if it were sacred to her she reached inside of the locker and placed it neatly on the hangar. Her hands next to dropped to the buckle of her belt, which she unclasped and placed upon one of the hooks inside the locker. She sat down on the bench in front of the lockers and slid both of her boots of her feet, one at a time, and placed them in the bottom of the locker. As she rose, she slid her right leg from her trousers, soon followed by the left. As she stood there in her underwear, she hung the trousers up on a pants hangar inside the closet. Her eyes surveyed the locker and noted each piece of armor ... It had been a long time since she had to wear a set.

Kerrie reached inside of her locker and retrieved the body-glove. She held it in front of her for a moment and pursed her lips, frustrated by the fact that it was a bit 'big' for someone her size. She had sent her measurements the day before, but it seemed the quartermaster had trouble finding her exact size. Stepping into the body-glove was made easier by its 'baggy' nature and her attention soon turned to the leggings. She attached the leggings, followed by the biceps and bracers.

Her armor only partially equipped, she pulled the chest-plate out of the locker and admired the quick work the QM must have done to apply the right rank insignia. On it, she found a note informing her the customization paint kit had been placed in the locker and that she should feel free to use it. The briefing told her that the unit painted their armor, but it was something she always felt was against regulations. Nevertheless, she wanted to make a good impression with the men and got hold of the paint kit. Sitting down, the chest-plate in front of her she carefully painted the only symbols that meant anything to her ... the markings of the Mabari Warrior Knights, who had raised her from childhood to adolescence.

With the armor customization complete, she attached the chest-plate and took a moment to get adjusted. It was very uncomfortable at first ... she had forgotten how uncomfortable the armor could be, but she would get used to it in time. She reached into the locker and put on her gloves, and attached the utlity belt around her waste. A bit wobbly, she stepped into the pair of boots that completed the armor. "At least these fit," she mumbled to herself.

From the top shelf of the locker she grabbed hold of her helmet. In her hands, she turned it around and looked at the visor from the outside. She tilted her head, for a moment ... taking in every curve of the helmet's ornate design. "Hello, gorgeous," she said quietly to herself before hovering the helmet above her head. She lowered it slowly until it was down over her head. Instantly her breathing began to increase, she was slightly claustrophobic so it always took her a moment to adjust to being beneath the helmet. It took a moment, but she soon focused to looking through the infrared visor and breathing through the rebreather.

Kerrie raised her arms up and down several times and extended her legs one at a time, attempting to gauge her range of mobility in the suit ... it was not much, but it was enough. Proudly, she grabbed hold of her E-11 blaster rifle ... the last remaining piece of equipment in the locker. She checked the settings and noticed that the safety was on and that it was set to stun. She flicked the safety off ... she did not take any chances.

Fully equipped and ready for duty, Kerrie turned around from her locker and headed towards the exit of the barracks. As she grasped firmly on her E-11 she felt proud to once again be wearing the armor, but that all changed as she reached the barracks where the other troops had gathered. A chorus of laughter and cat calls began to emanate from the group of rowdy troops that had gathered to play a game of sabacc before turning in for the evening.

One of the troopers howled at her as he raised up from where he was sitting. "Look at that boys ... you think her butt is that big ... or is it just the armor?"

"Aren't you a little short for a Stormtrooper?" another Trooper asked her, before turning to the other men and sharing a combined laugh at her expense.

"Why don't you take that armor off, put on something a little more appealing and come join us for a game?" a trooper quickly chimed in.

"Leave the armor and guns for the men, Missy," a trooper said loudly at her, shaking his head in disgust, "Just move your pretty little tail back in your office while us men handle it." He laughed loudly and smiled at the others, "I got twenty credits that says she already broke two nails trying to get that armor on."

Kerrie froze in her tracks as she listened to the torrent of insults being rained down upon her. Her face reddened from a combination of sadness and embarrassment, which quickly transformed itself into anger. Without saying a word she turned to face the men playing the card game ... she was not amused. There was no reply she could give that would meet with any effect ... she was in a male world and she just had to deal with it. Or at least she did have to deal with it, but she was the Commander now. She tilted her head to the right slightly and grinned beneath her helmet as she raised the barrel of her E-11 in the direction of the men at the card game. She pulled back on the trigger and unleashed a blue coil of energy that expanded exponentially as it left the weapon.

As it impacted the men, each of the Troopers fell victim to its stun effects. Within only seconds each of their bodies went limp against the card table and they were out cold.

"Lights out, gentlemen," Kerrie said, finally breaking the awkward silence as she turned back to her original direction and exited the barracks.

For luck, being a superstitious sort, Kerrie patted the Imperial emblem on her left shoulder. The emblem of the 105th was like any other Imperial insignia, only it was adorned with lightning bolts for added flair. This platoon seemed to focus on flair ... it was like working at one of those chain restaurants on Corellia. As she emerged in the central area of the station she took a moment to familiarize herself with the layout. She noted the various locales that comprised the station. A 'saloon' ... always a haven for trouble. She would have to be exceedingly mindful when in that location if she wanted to survive at her position longer than her predecessor.

Kerrie took several steps forward, transitioning from the corridor into the saloon. It had been a while, but she found ease with the MFTAS in her helmet's visor which quickly scanned over the various patrons in the bar. There were only two that stood out and she would allow the system to pay extra attention on them as she stood at the saloon's threshold, waiting for her scan to be completed.

Fiona heard the rustle of clothing and the shuffle of feet that meant the man had wandered off and gone back to sitting at his bar, stroking his hair. Her shoulders relaxed in relief; people-skills had never really been the young Archer's strong point anyway. The MFTAS scan wouldn't have revealed much about her, except perhaps the location of the vibrodagger in her boot, but it was really more uncommon for people to be completely unarmed in a place like this.

Kerrie walked through the Cantina, walking towards Soren. She kept her E-11 ready, the stock not extended as she preferred to use the weapon in more compact form. She came to a stop five meters in front of him, and looked him over one final time before speaking. <Click>"Pardon me, but I need to verify the permit for the weapon you are currently carrying on your person."<Click> She waited patiently for a moment for a reply, prepared for anything.

On Soren was a heavy blaster, which he did have a permit for. Leaning back he looked to the short snowman. or in this case snowwoman and reached to one of his pockets to take out his permit where he would then slide it across the booth in the direction of the trooper. It was a legal and up to date permit from the imperial offices on Corellia...the permit was for a model BlasTech DL-6H heavy blaster pistol. which matched the one on his hip. If she looked carefully she'd see it was set to stun and not to kill.

Kerrie's eyes scanned the permit from beneath her helmet. It appeared authentic and she was satisfied. <Click>"Thank you for your cooperation. Enjoy your evening."<Click> She turned on her heels and walked towards the bar.

Taking the permit back Soren slid it back into his pocket and went to enjoying his drink.

Kerrie performed cursory scans on the other individuals in the saloon. It was a far cry from her last assignment, but there was something pleasant about the simplicity of it. Within a few moments she was back out of the saloon and in the main corridor of the station.

"I agree. I want to know how your little bout with Piracy went. I see you came back in one piece, so that's a start." She said with a smile and another wink before she pulled away from him. Again not wanted to seem too mushy, after all, she had to be seen as a tough administrator and negotiator by those she was going to have to get under her control. And lovey-dovey in the corridor was not a good way to get that image across. She smiled and looked towards the Saloon. "So. What do you think of the colorful establishment here?"

Kerrie raised her left hand, tapping her index and ring fingers against the helmet in a casual form of salute to Maiko as she passed. She wanted to make the assignment work, and even though the station manager was a civilian, she would attempt to treat her with as much respect as possible in order to avoid any bridges prematurely.

Rake Carson finally woke up, after having passed out drunk on a bench outside. There was no good reason for him to have slept on the bench, as his ship was only a couple hundred yards away, but he had. Alcohol clouded his judgment. He lifted himself from the bench and finally regained his surroundings, discovering that he was, in fact, alive, and that he was, as a matter of fact, on Gateway Space Station. That revelation made, he pushed himself away from the bench, and toward the Saloon. Stopping at the door to smooth his leather jacket, and straighten his white shirt, he lit a cigarra. Then he entered the bar. Now, Rake Carson, though not poorly dressed, was not exactly a rich-looking man. His appearance was like that of someone just one step above a bum. And yes, there were weapons. There were four grenades in his jacket's cargo pockets. Two sonic, two concussion. There was a Blastech DL-44 in a thigh holster, and there was a chopped down vibro-staff tucked into a sewn-in pouch of his jacket. Just for emergencies, of course.

Kerrie's attention quickly snapped towards the Human male awaken from a drunken stupor. "Loiterer," she said to herself beneath the helmet. Her MFTAS focused on the man, quickly scanning him for any perceived threat. Just in case, she raised the E-11 blaster rifle to bare with the man's abdomen. These drunkards could often prove to be some trouble.

Outwardly, though, he looked to just be carrying the BlasTech. Which was, as a matter of fact, illegal. He stumbled straight past the stormtrooper, and towards his booth. The back corner, where he could see everything without being bothered. He needed something to kick him awake.

<Click>"Halt!"<Click> Kerrie shouted through the helmet's communication system as her helmet noted the detection of a weapon. She took no step towards or away from the man, but maintained a steady aim with her rifle on the man's abdomen. She did not like the looks of him, and the weapon seemed equally troubling.

"I'm in no mood, miss. Now is not the time. You take that damn scanner elsewhere. I just want a kick-start, is all. Just a damn kick-start." He didn't mutter the words. They were spoken in a clear voice, that carried no hint of drunkenness. He wasn't drunk anymore. Hell, he wasn't even tired. He was just disoriented. He always was when he first woke, unless he awoke under duress or a situation of emergency. Then he waited.

Kerrie was in no mood for such behavior. Kerrie pulled back on the trigger of her E-11 blaster rifle directed at the man's abdomen. The coil of energy started small, but soon grew exponentially in size as a wave of energy, that if made contact with his form would rendered him stunned and unconscious. It was her first day on the job and she intended on living through it.

"Damn it." Second time in a little bit. He sensed something like that would happen. The stun coil impacted his body, and for the third time in two days, he'd been put out against his wishes. And that was the story of Mr. Carson's life. It seemed as though everybody wanted to shoot him. He fell to the floor with a tumble, and laid there.

Kerrie slung the E-11 blaster rifle over her right shoulder as she hurried towards the fallen body. As she approached her hands reached down to her utility belt and produced a pair of stun cuffs. She knelt next to the body and grabbed hold of the man's right wrist. She slapped one half of the cuffs onto the right wrist, before grabbing his left wrist to complete cuffing him behind the back. Next, her hands immediately began rummaging across the man's body. It was the blaster pistol she found first. She held it up for a moment to examine it before tossing it aside. Her face turned grim as she discovered a series of grenades on the man ... she could have very easily been the one laying on the ground, but in far worse condition. "What kind of man would bring explosives onto this station? It's already falling a part ... even the slightest blast could kill us all." Lastly, she found the small vibro weapon. She placed all of the contraband in a pile on the ground next to the body.

Fiona stood just a few meters from the entrance to the saloon, staring down the way at the trooper moving toward the fallen man. Hate showed in her eyes. She couldn't for some reason break her gaze, even if it was something of a tell ... nothing the Empire ever did was good or lawful. It was cruel and hurtful. Power for power's sake. She couldn't shake her attention away from the scene, despite the fact she was blocking the entrance to the saloon.

An additional search of the fallen man's body found a small amount of spice. "When will these spice-heads learn?" she mumbled to herself as she placed the small amount in her utility belt. She grabbed the man's body by the back of his jacket and hoisted the stunned body off the ground. "Ugh this guy is heavy," she groaned beneath the helmet as she began dragging him towards the crude lockup facility, which served as nothing more than a temporary holding facility, which was nothing more than a couple of cells and a guard that was usually asleep.

Zealot did not make much in the way of noise, and it would have taken a great deal of clamoring to distract Fiona from watching the scene unfold. She watched, shaking silently with rage, as the trooper dragged the man off like he was an animal. They don't treat anyone like humans, she noted, trying to push the visions of her brother being dragged around in the back of her mind. She couldn't help but see Corbin's face on anyone who suffered Imperial mistreatment; after all, how was a kid supposed to deal with her big brother being taken away from her?

Kerrie proceeded forward into the detention room, struggling to drag the body the remainder of the way. He was barely off the ground and would most likely develop several skin abrasions from the way she was 'man'handling him. The temperature beneath her helmet was now unbearable, the sweat was pouring off her head and the visor was beginning to fog up. She continued to drag the man until he was in one of the cells. She made no attempt to be delicate. She dropped the body on the floor of the cell and stepped outside, the palm of her left hand immediately slamming down on the force-field activator, sealing him in.

The trooper had disappeared, but Fiona's gaze remained locked on the path the agent had taken. She half expected to see a trail of blood following the course of the man's body, but the floors in the station were spotless and shiny. Fiona appreciated for the first time what a cold place the station was, yet she felt heat rising in the back of her neck. The change in temperature prompted her to break her hypnotic stare and turn her head slightly to look behind her. She had the unmistakable feeling that she was being watched, and she turned her head just in time to see the side of a face leaning in to whisper into her ear.

Kerrie reached her hands to the side of her helmet and unfastened the locking mechanism. She pulled it open her head as quick as she could and took a gasping breath for air. She needed to get in better shape. She placed the helmet on the catching desk and then leaned against it for several moments, attempting to catch her breath and regain her composure. In a moment a Trooper arrived, carrying an evidence box that contained the small arsenal the man had on him. The Trooper placed the box on the desk, next to the commander's helmet, and returned to duty.

Rake came to again in the cell. He was again, groggy. Only now, he had a headache that could fell a bantha. He felt as though somebody had beat him with a dull vibro-axe, and not very efficiently. He searched his memory for any recollection of trying to stop an oncoming star destroyer, or maybe eating a full dose of poison. He couldn't really remember any. As his dizziness and nausea faded, he realized that he was now somewhere different. A pretty spartan cell, actually. "Damn it. Every time."

"Open this fucking door, you imperial bastards, or I swear I'm gonna beat you like you've never been beat in your life!" He pounded on the wall for a few minutes, to emphasize the threat. Finally, he succumbed to his sickness, punched the wall one final time, and sat back down against the wall of the cell clutching his hand. That'd probably need medical treatment.

Kerrie finally caught her breath, and brought a gloved hand up to her head to wipe away the beads of sweat that seemed to be a constantly seemed to reside on her forehead. "You need to go on a diet," she said to the man in the cell as she turned her heard momentarily towards him. "Do you have any idea how ward it was dragging your bum all the way here?" she stood in front of the cell, glaring through the force-field at the criminal scum that constituted her first arrest at her new post.

"I'm in good physical shape, miss. I'm six foot two and two hundred and ten pounds. There is no reason for me to diet. And you better be glad I don't hit women, or you'd be reaping the benefits of a medical separation, right about now." He gave her the middle finger behind his back, through the cell's "wall." It helped him feel better. Of course, it was his left middle finger, since his right hand was all jacked up from pounding. Fucking imperials. Always had to fight unfair. "You know, for once in my life, I was actually acting peacefully, and you fucking shot me.

"You need to learn a little respect," Kerrie said to the man, quite pleased with herself. A small grin formed upon her mimicked Human lips as she watched him. She nearly laughed, but she would not allow herself to go *that* far. "Keep it up," she chided the man much to her chagrin, "Keep it up and you'll be on the next shuttle to the spice mines of Kessel."

The rhythmic clicking of polished boots could be heard echoing throughout the corridors of the station as a man briskly walked down one of the main fairways. Clothed in the maroon trousers and tunic, indicating his affiliation with Imperial Intelligence, with the corresponding blue and red insignia indicating his rank equivalent of Colonel. Black gloves covered his semi-clenched fists, and a polished black holster was attached to the side of his belt. A modified DH-17 blaster rested snugly inside, the weapon's safety clicked on and set to stun. A mix of determination and frustration drew lines upon his face, with other personnel giving him clear berth as he marched onward. The route he was taking most likely indicating a visit to the detention center, and there would be more to currently handle than just standard paperwork.

"Let me the fuck out of here. I wasn't doing anything, little miss." He wondered just how much of his weaponry she'd found. Those grenades could get him in a lot of trouble, but what was worse than that was the little bag he'd had on him of Glitterstim. He'd been running the stuff for a while, now. He picked it up on Nar Shaddaa and sold it wherever he could. He just hoped they hadn't searched his ship yet. "You better hope I'm cuffed when I come out of here."

Upon arriving at his intended destination, the Colonel paused as the sentries guarding the main door to the detention center observed his insignia and rank cylinders, and subsequently stepped aside. Continuing into the actual center, the officer paused as he was about to awake the booking guard before his eye was drawn to the somewhat short but rather imposing-looking Stormtrooper farther into the room. He began his approach once again, raising his voice once he was close enough to the female officer. "Commander Kiley I presume?"

Kerrie's jovial nature at enjoying the man suffer in the cell vanished from her face in an instant. Her body snapped rigid, and her posture soon became perfect. She raised her gloved right hand to her forehead and sharply saluted the man who entered as his rank uniform indicated he was in Imperial Intelligence. "Yes, Colonel," she said in a quick, efficient tone, "How many I be of service?"

"Oh fuck me. *More* of you guys. Do you people just not ever get any action or what? Oh! And an Intelligence officer, too! Fucking great." He didn't really register through his coil-and-booze-induced haze that the man was intelligence for a good thirty seconds. When he did, he realized he was in deep shit. Usually those guys showed up only for interrogations. And he definitely had a couple skeletons in the closet. He instantly started racking his brain for anything and everything he could say to get himself out of this...predicament.

Swiftly returning the salute, the Colonel's eyes slowly wandered to the man currently imprisoned within the closest cell before drifting back to Kerrie. Opening his mouth to once again, he paused as the prisoner shouted his welcome message, and then continued to speak. "Commander, I understand that this...individual here has been imprisoned on various charges of violating Imperial regulations. May I ask your current plans for him?"

"I would like to see him sent to spice mines of Kessel," Kerrie responded quickly and truthfully, sparing no disdain for the criminal in her tone of voice. "He was carrying enough illegal weaponry to blow up the entire station." Her head turned slowly towards the man in the cell, "Quiet down." Her head then snapped back forward to face the Colonel.

"Fuck you. Come in here and make me quiet down. I ain't got no respect for you or your fancy-pants white armor. I'm about sick of this treatment. But that's fine. You just wait until I get out of this cell. We'll see what happens then." He wished he weren't flex-cuffed. The fact was, he'd never hit a woman unless he had to, but he could talk all he wanted. And he could manhandle a woman. That wasn't against his ethical code. But being a strict utilitarian did require a few compromises here and there, and one of them was his code of ethics. Especially in the case of women, since they were all too often trying to kill you.

Silence followed for a brief moment, and was then complimented by a slow nod from the Colonel. Another brief glance at the prisoner's tirade caused the formation of the slightest grin upon the officer's mouth, but it vanished when he turned back to the Stormtrooper before him. "Indeed Commander, it would seem most appropriate for this situation. However, I must ask that you defer that decision for the present time."

Don't you fucking do it. You turn me over to that Intel weenie to get tortured, and I'll find and kill your entire family. And that's not a threat, that's a promise, sweetheart." He did *not* want to have his kneecaps pried off slowly. That was never a pleasant alternative to him. And he'd be damned if he'd let some Intel guy pry his dirty laundry out of him with the use of 'wall to wall counseling.'

Nobody, but nobody called her 'sweetheart.' An almost animalistic rage began to form in her petite body. Her face reddened, and she began to snarl visibly. She turned instantly and grabbed her E-11 rifle, which was still slung over her shoulder. She flicked a switch on the rifle and set it to the 'burn' setting. She wanted to let him have it, but she could not bring herself to do it. It was her first night aboard the station and she stopped herself before she could deactivate it. Her attention then returned to the Intelligence officer as she tried to phase out the criminal. "What is your interest with this piece of garbage?" she asked the officer, disgusted by his very existence.

"Good. Shoot me too. Do it. Right in the gut, honey. Right in the gut. Come on, now, you can do it. Better that than the torture I'll get from your friend, the Colonel, there." He was smirking the whole time. On the inside, he wasn't so much scared as just flat worried. If he went with that Colonel, no telling what would happen. If he stayed with this crazy lady, he was going to end up facing life imprisonment. Neither was a pleasant option. So pretty much, Rake Carson was screwed.

"I didn't think you had it in you. Must be my rugged good looks, right sweetheart? Come on, now. Just pick that rifle up and squeeze that trigger nice and slow. It's easy." Damn his mouth. It was his stress-control factor, his defense. It was a strictly Corellian trait. Arrogant, brash, and stupid when it came to people skills. But it was something he was proud of, even though he hated it mostly.

"That's mostly classified, Commander..." Returned the Colonel with the slightest hint of personal importance resonating from his tone. "However, Intelligence indicates that his crimes may be far more grievous than simple gun-possession and drug smuggling. If you have no objections, I would like to escort him to my office for further questioning." His eyes flickered again to the prisoner as he awaited the Commander's response.

Come on, come on. Please, just get so pissed you keep me here. That was the thoughts in his mind. That was what he was trying to do. But of course, he couldn't let that be known, or she'd definitely send him off with that Intel prick. "Come on, tuts. You know you want to shoot me. Just tell the Colonel no, wait till he leaves, come in here and beat me to death. That's what you want to do, right? Fucking do it."

"You want to deal with this skel?" Kerrie asked the Colonel, her face looking confused and frustrated. She sighed and turned her attention to the control panel at the door. She glared at the individual, frustrated beyond words. Her left hand palmed down on the controls to release the force-field. She immediately took a step back and leveled her E-11 with the man's abdomen. "Go ahead..." she said to the Colonel, her gaze locked on the criminal, "Take him."

Commander, I have just as much want to take him as you do to deliver him to me. I respect your cooperation, though." The Colonel flashed a semi-genuine smile at Kerrie as he moved towards the exposed cell, his left hand gripping the end of his DH-17 while his right extended towards the shoulder of the prisoner. Firmly moving the man out of the cell, his voice became rather harsh as a push was applied to get the prisoner moving. "Let's go. Take a left once outside the detention center."

"Where the fuck does that take us, asshole? To the spice mines? Or does it take me to a nice plush interrogation room?" He almost spat the words out, so disgusted was he by the man who was taking him. He'd hated intelligence guys even when he'd been in the Navy. They were always heartless bastards, in any service. It was universal. He swore up and down they taught it to them in school.

"No, it takes us into the hallway." A slight sneer formed upon the face of the maroon-clad officer as they moved towards the entrance of the center, the Colonel's right hand once again on the shoulder of the prisoner to ensure directional compliance. Passing through the hissing metallic doors after nodding to the desk sentry, the Colonel indicated for the prisoner to continue downward along the corridor.

Kerrie grabbed hold of her helmet that she had placed on the catching desk. Once again, she placed it above her head and slid it down over her face. She shook her head slightly, once again getting accustomed to life beneath the helmet. She nodded to the guard and proceeded out of the detention center, and made her way back down into the central atrium. Her eyes scanned around one last time, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. She was satisfied that all was well. She began walking back towards the Imperial barracks.

When she arrived back at the barracks she checked her chronometer and noticed her shift was nearly over. "I made it through the first day," she said to herself proudly beneath the helmet. As she entered the barracks to remove her armor, she set about to go through the necessary task of unpacking her things and cleaning up the office. "The rigors of command," she thought to herself. It was not what it was cracked up to be, but she would get used to it.

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