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.
"Ah...erm...here 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 documents...so...we 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
"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
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
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
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
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
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
"Oh fuck me. *More* of you guys. Do you
people just not ever get any action or what? Oh! And an Intelligence
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
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
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
"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
"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.