Era of Rebellion - Navigation

Sean Brandt, Christopher Levy, and Sarah Riggs-Shute.
Zero years after the Battle of Yavin (35:F2:5) in the Essesia system: Warspite.
Liliya Benedt, Captain Serra Eona, Grand Moff Claudius Rodney, and Lady Jelena Rodney.

The private quarters were dark, the dim glow of the screen accompanied only by a small lamp on the nightstand. Captain Serra Eona often kept her room aboard the Warspite this way, preferring the quiet intimacy and calmness it carried. A tray on the desk was filled with the remnants of cigarras; Serra had been burning the midnight oil, so to speak, hard at work on a task that no one else knew she had.

One of those smokes rested between her lips now as she reviewed the data on the screen. It had taken no small amount of work to acquire all the files she had needed, but finally it was coming together. Now it was just a matter of reviewing it and submitting the report for official documentation with Imperial Intelligence. There was another report, of course, one that she would be providing her Minder, but that one would be exclusively in the hands of Internal Operations and given verbally. Nothing like that could be risked on a data network.

Orlo Verrik was a young rebel spy that Intel had hunted for a few years and eventually trapped. He had proven to be far more elusive than they suspected, and getting to him had taken quite a bit of time. His death fell a few months prior to the Ensign's enlistment into the Imperial Navy, but that was a small matter to cover; time for him to get the necessary augmentations to change his appearance. Serra had to alter a few details here and there, masking the certainty of Orlo's demise. A few false reports were added, hints that Orlo was spotted again during those lost months, but ensuring he fell off the grid in time for the Ensign's enlistment date. It was not work that Serra could do entirely alone, of course; she had had to fill in the Minder on the entire situation, and he was not pleased. Even Serra questioned her actions in this case. It wasn't that the death of the Ensign bothered her; killing was simply something she did, like washing her face or eating meals or breathing. The problem for her lay in how sloppy the entire situation was; bedding Tiberius had been a lazy method for getting him into her court. It worked, though, and it was done. So long as this was the only incident that resulted, she could count the effort as a positive.

Serra took a long drag from the cigarra, letting the smoke roll around in her lungs before exhaling it into the dimly lit room. Thanks to help from IntOp, the report was solid. It would check out even if ran through ISB's knowledge base, unless they tried to do some real serious digging, and Serra did not anticipate that. She saved the report then set about requesting a personal meeting with Grand Moff Rodney. He seemed the sort that would appreciate getting the report in his hands before it was officially submitted, and there was no reason he should think that was not the case. Not to mention, the meeting would create the perfect opportunity to handle another loose cog in the machine of the Empire; Major Kerrie Kiley.

So much work, so little time to do it in. Captain Serra Eona had found herself extraordinarily busy in the short time since her arrival; far more so than she had anticipated. This was not a bad thing, per say; Serra liked to stay busy. It kept her on her toes, and the Warspite was proving more than capable of providing plenty of fodder for her work. The request for a meeting with the Grand Moff had been answered quicker than she had anticipated, but that wasn't particularly surprising, all things considered. For a sector that was ostensibly under the control of the same government, the people here were thoroughly divided it seemed, something she intended to work as an angle until it became necessary to take steps to fix it. As she approached the entrance to where she was told to report, the remnants of a cigarra were extinguished and tossed into a garbage receptacle. As usual, Serra was decked out in her drab black uniform, fine and pressed and clean, her face betraying nothing but perhaps some lack of sleep. It was a common look, and the only clear sign of anything in her features. Otherwise, they were as bland and emotionless as ever. She approached the secretary, stopping in true military fashion as she spoke. "Captain Serra Eona, here for Grand Moff Rodney."

There was a reason why the Captain was called to meet her appointment earlier than expected. Liliya Benedt had been struggling all day to reorganize the schedule after her charge had been regularly dropping meetings or dismissing them all together and she has been trying her best to keep up with the changes. The youthful and vibrant woman stood nearly perched right outside the door to Grand Moff Rodney's office, looking anxiously down at her datapad while nibbling the bottom of her lip gently. The aide had noticed odd fluctuations in his routines and it was getting more difficult to organize, but she refused to let him down. Liliya was wearing a sleek and formal black dress that seemed to clash against the uniforms of regulation that all of the officers wore. Serra's approach actually startled the woman a little and she jared a bit before warm eyes looked up at her with a sincere greeting. "Oh, Captain Serra Eona. I'm very thankful you were able to adjust your duties to meet with the Governor. Please wait one moment while I inform him of your arrival." There was a reason Liliya stood right in front of the door, she was doing her best to shield Rodney from any tense confrontations ... the dealings upon the Warspite have been very stressful on him as of late. An area of her datapad was pressed sending a signal to the Grand Moff's comm stationed at his desk, it was used for direct communication. "Milord, Captain Serra Eona has arrived for her appointment. Shall I allow her in?" She asked softly before smiling to Serra to keep the mood relaxed.

Grand Moff Claudius Rodney stood at the viewport that dominated his office, monitoring the countless small craft that were transiting the Essesia system. His plotting board indicated newly arrived Imperial warships, and there seemed to be more activity than ever in the Ringali Shell. There were a stack of unread datapads on his desk, carelessly scattered, and unread. He was behind, and with each moment he seemed to bet further and further behind schedule. The job of a Grand Moff was surprisingly bureaucratic, and the mundane tasks of managing six Core Worlds never seemed to end. It took a moment for his concentration to break, and only then did he move back towards the transmitter on his desk. "Yes, Miss Benedt. Send her in," he said, sounding a bit tired, but not nearly as distressed as he had been in the past. When the transmission ended, his hands roamed over his uniform, straightening any creases and removing any possible stray crumbs or fibers. He cleared his throat so that his voice would not crack when speaking, and then positioned himself near the desk, for what he had hoped would be an interesting report on the status of the assassination attempt on Captain Anson.

Liliya was delighted when she heard the confirmation that they could keep this appointment, it was one more she could cross off the growing list. At this pace, they may be able to get caught up after a few days which would remove some pressure from the often tired shoulders of her charge. With a polite nod to the Captain she took a single graceful step away from the door allowing the other easy access. The moment Serra would enter inside, miss Benedt would firmly place herself in the path of the doorway again. The woman was hardly formidable, but she would do her best to persuade over-anxious individuals from seeing the Governor until it was their turn, though it would be a completely different issue if some of the more ... aggressive occupants demanded entry. She scanned her datapad in earnest, quickly gazing over the other appointments for today and released a soft sigh of relief, noticing that it was barren of any notorious entries.

Serra, as usual, was nothing but patience. She stood while Liliya set about her work, and not until the secretary moved aside and permitted her entrance did Serra move. There was a certain level of decorum that was expected no matter what when it came to meeting with a man of the Moff's social standing, and she was incredibly observant of such things. When she came in he received first a bow, then the standard salute. "My Lord. Captain Serra Eona, reporting. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice." She left it at that for now, letting Rodney dictate the pace of things. She had studied up on the man, but it was always best to feel out someone's mannerisms in person before jumping to too many conclusions. For now she stood at attention, per regulation.

In frustration at the formality of things, Claudius emphatically shook his hands in front of him as they went through a comedy of manners. "Oh do get on with it, Captain Eona," he insisted, having not slept much since the events that nearly took the life of the captain of his flagship. He had confined his family to quarters and unleashed the ISB ... despite the fact that they had plagued him since they took command. "What have you to report on the assassin?" he asked, his brown eyes studying her every mannerism, as if her answer was the most important piece of information he would ever receive.

Claudius was going to get the well practiced professionalism that had been some of Serra's earliest training experiences, right down to when she was a little girl on Bastion. The world was renown for its hardline Imperial devotion, and Serra was no exception to that, in many ways. His informal attitude was taken for what it was and she responded in kind so far as getting to the point of things, but while she relaxed her stance, she by no means abandoned it. Not yet at least. "You'll be happy to know that, in tandem with contacts within Imperial Intelligence, I've managed to track down who this man was." At that point she moved, reaching into her jacket to produce a data stick, which she handed to the Moff. Whether or not he chose to read along with her report was up to him. "A rebel infiltrator known as Orlo Verrick is our would-be killer, My Lord. He was an extremely capable spy, one who managed to defy our detection for some time. We thought he had been killed during a raid, but no body was confirmed, and several sightings of the man were reported right up until a few months prior to the Ensign in question's enlistment with the Imperial Navy. Reconstructive surgeries and genetic modification allowed him to elude detection, but a more thorough examination of the body has proven his true identity. Whether or not his assignment to this vessel was coincidence or organized by a co-conspirator is uncertain at this time, but I assure you, I'm doing everything possible to ensure the loyalty of those who work for you, My Lord."

"Confound it all!" Claudius cursed, his right hand curling into a fist before he slammed it down on his desk, causing the stack of datapads to momentarily lift into the air before falling back down and scattering. "If they can do this ... they can do almost anything," the middle-aged Moff grimly reasoned, as he moved back towards the plotting board. His hand moved over the newly arrived corvettes meant to bolster anti-smuggling patrols in the region. "More ships means more men, and a greater potential for treachery..." he turned to the young woman, and his two hands came together in front of his midsection to form a pyramidal shape. "There simply aren't enough agents to monitor all of these personnel. And then it begs a larger question, who watches those being watched?" he posited, before exhaling a sigh of deep frustration. "Is there anything further?" he asked, as his eyes tilted towards the chronometer on the wall. There was much to do.

Serra watched, and listened, and studied. The Moff was a stressed man, carrying a burden truly too big for any could be said of all those in his position throughout the galaxy. He was intelligent, though, and that was also to be expected of a Grand Moff. His question placed her in a particularly tricky situation, one that opened up great potential but offered considerable risk as well. The Grand Moff was, by all accounts, a loyal man to the Empire, but who else in his circle was so loyal? Who would he talk to? These questions were too uncertain for her to unveil herself without concern for serious consequences. "We do, My Lord. Imperial Intelligence does not have many operatives...but I can assure you, my time here will not be spent idly. The enemies of the Empire are my enemies, and they do not have a habit of lasting long." Her file, after all, would confirm that. When it came to something further, well, now was her time to address another issue. "One other thing, My Lord, concerning your personal entourage. Specifically, Major Kerrie Kiley."

The Grand Moff's brown eyes snapped from the chronometer to Captain Eona after hearing the reference to his bodyguard. He blinked thrice before speaking, quite concerned by the potential of a difficulty here. "Major Kiley? What of her?" he asked, a curtness to his voice that had otherwise had not existed prior. He was aware of her past the the Imperial Security Bureau, but he had come across anything in her history concerning Intel.

Uncertainty. She recognised it, that certain clipped tone and hints of fear, of anger. Perfect. Serra reached into her jacket once more, producing a cigarra, lighting it, and after an inhale started speaking. She was letting go of the formality by intention, wanting to keep this discussion on a less official level. "Let me set your mind to ease, My Lord, by saying that I have no reason to believe that Major Kiley is a rebel sympathiser. However, after a discussion with her, I have every reason to believe that her loyalties are perhaps misplaced." Provided she was permitted to carry on with the cigarra, she would have another puff before speaking further. "Her devotion to you is all well and good, but she has a very strong emotional attachment to you, My emotional attachment that I have no doubt could be exploited to the detriment of Imperial Operations. Her performance in the field already clearly suffers, as was evidenced during the apprehension of the former senator. Nevermind that I have personally witnessed a particular inclination towards masochism and self-abuse when I visited her in the gym. These are not healthy signs for a bodyguard of a man of your importance, My Lord."

When Captain Eona began to mention the Major's unhealthy attention to him he took an uncomfortable step backwards, not knowing what to make of it. "Pardon me, Captain. But, do you mean a romantic attention?" he asked at first, with some discomfort, not being at all sure as to what she was referring. He paused listening to her unsatisfactory reports of the woman, into whose care he placed his wife and children. "Masochism? Self-abuse?" he stammered, becoming quite uncomfortable with what he was hearing. His cheeks understandably became red, and he felt as if the collar of his tunic was now one size too small. "Exactly what are you implying here, Captain?" he asked again, unconsciously moving towards the desk, as he knew that he *had* to sit down.

Of the possible reactions he could have had, this was probably the best one. Serra waited until the Moff had gotten to his desk, giving him the opportunity to sit before she did. It was a small gesture of politeness, but an important one. Once she sat she assumed a more relaxed nature, inhaling another lungful of smoke before she answered his questions. "Romantic isn't quite how I would describe it, My Lord. More like obsession. She was utterly unwilling to show even the slightest devotion to the Empire when I spoke to her, focusing it entirely on you. Your staff should be loyal to you, of course, My Lord...but as we all know, the Empire comes before us all, from the smallest gas farmer to the Emperor himself. If Kiley felt you were in danger...I fear she would compromise anything and everything to potentially save you, including the security of your vessels and the sector itself. A fine ideal, of course, but not the sort of blind devotion that should be fostered in our ranks."

Claudius brought his right hand up to his chin, and scratched at it softly as he listened to what was being laid out before him. "Let me see if I understand this, Captain..." he began, withdrawing his hand, and laying them both upon the cool surface of the desk that separated them. "Are you saying that she is *too* loyal to me?" he asked, tilting his head slightly to the left, in the manner of a confused pack animal. He truly was not sure what to make of this report. He was aware that his wife was fond of her ... quite fond in fact. In his mind he began replaying all of his recent interactions with the woman. In fact, these had been only been a seldom occurrence since the arrival of Liliya, who had supplanted in her post duties. And then, of course, he remember his assault upon her ... having tried his best to cast that out of his memory ... but there were just some things that could not be forgotten.

The man's distress was obvious, and Serra had to be careful. She could not push him too far; the fact he had not lashed out from the onset was a small miracle, but evidently he had some faith in the Intel Operative. She assumed as much at least, and it was time to try and sooth the blow a little. "I know it's a strange concept, My Lord, but it is a genuine concern. The rebels are a fine example of the difference. They are loyal to something other than each other, My Lord; united by a common cause and belief. We can kill their leaders, take down their makes little difference, because no matter how much they loved those individuals, they love their ideal more. To combat that kind of dedication, we must exemplify it. You are the most powerful man in this sector, and you and all those around you must be an example for every other loyal citizen of the Empire. A bodyguard who spurts off about her devotion to you while beating her hands against a training bag until their dripping blood is not the example that should be set...especially when she's so overtly setting that example in front of a freshly assigned Imperial Intelligence Officer."

"Just a moment, Captain," Claudius said, holding a hand out in front of him to cease her talking. In an instant, his attention turned back to the comm panel on his desk. Pressing down on the button he signalled for Liliya. "Miss Benedt, please send for Jelena," he instructed, determined more than ever to get to the bottom of this. Once the comm was terminated his attention was once again focused on Serra. "Hit her hands against a training bag until they were dropping blood?" he inquired, repeating the words, but unwilling to accept them. Surely this could not be ... had the woman gotten to this point.

Summoning his daughter? That was far from expected. All the same, she had to simply go with whatever came at this point. Serra had dealt her hand as best she felt she could, and now it was time to let it play out. While they waited, she had little to do but affirm what the Moff questioned. "I witnessed as much with my own eyes, My Lord. Unfortunate, but true." She inhaled, taking her time with it this time.

Liliya Benedt gandered at the time on her datapad, starting to grow concerned that if the current meeting was not concluded soon, she would need to push back the next arranged appointment which would delay them even further. Her processed train of thought was interrupted by the sudden and unexpected request by the Grand Moff for Lady Jelena Rodney to be summoned to his office. A soft frown appeared on her face which did not belong for any extended period of time as she realized this would cause all of her work regarding the rescheduling to be in vain. She responded promptly to her superior. "Of course Milord, I will notify her immediately." Said politely before she ended their communication and patched in a signal to the young woman as requested. This abrupt call would likely not be anticipated by Jelena, causing Liliya to worry that the Lady would not be available. "Milady?" Asked with uncertainty, her databanks instantly being referenced for the proper protocol for addressing both Jelena and her charge's wishes, deciding to go formal instead of personal. "The Grand Moff wishes to see you in his office." She fell silent, hoping the request did not fall upon deaf ears.

Lady Jelena Rodney was seated in her quarters, which she shared with her sister Drusilla and adopted sister Ewwiekewwieikkie. While the quarters were better than most of the officers aboard the vessel, they were still minimal compared to what she was used to ... and to make matters worse she had to share. "Very well, Liliya. I will be there presently," she said in a polite manner, but nevertheless still bothered to be summoned to her father's office in the middle of the day. And so she rose from her bed, and began the process of navigating the corridors of the ship until she reached the antechamber. "How bad is it today?" she asked, the fellow young Alderaanian, offering a knowing smile.

Liliya was very relieved when her message got through to the Lady, causing her to sigh with a gentle smile before it faded as she once again remembered that the rest of the schedule may be in jeopardy. When Jelena turned the corner, she would catch sight of Liliya scrabbling on her datapad. She really did not want to cancel the next meeting ... they still had a little time left to go. Perhaps if the Governor only needed a few words with his daughter, the rest of the day could continue has she had organized. Once Benedt caught sight of Jelena journeying down the hallway, she lowered her datapad and greeted her respectfully. "Milady, thank you for coming. I feared you would have been unavailable." Said with a great deal of warmth to the other young woman. "Oh ... it is nothing I cannot handle for Milord." Said humbly as her eyes drifted downwards with modesty, a slight blush highlighting her cheeks. "Please go in, you are expected." Liliya bowed her head lightly to Jelena before taking a step away from the door, allowing access.

Jelena smiled politely at Liliya. She was pleased to a fellow Alderaanian, and sympathized with her position of being stuck aboard this Star Destroyer. But then again, if she had not been, she would have been destroyed like so many that she knew. She was not sure if she was here to serve her father professionally or personally ... and she did not want to know. After receiving permission to proceed, she progressed forward and entered the office. She did not recognize the officer sitting with her father, but her initial instincts were to dislike her, and suspected she would only be here if something were wrong. "You summoned me, father?" she asked, implying that her time was being wasted, and making it clear that she did not want to be there.

Like a gentleman, he rose from his seat when his daughter entered the room. "Jelena, let me introduce Captain Serra Eona of Imperial Intelligence," he began, as he walked around the desk and moved closer towards his eldest child. "The Captain here has had some choice words concerning Major Kiley," he began, still not wanting to believe all of what had been told. "In truth, I have not seen much of her lately. Since her duties largely place her with you, I was hoping you could enlighten us ... and perhaps confirm or deny what the Captain has just told me..." and with that he stopped movement, and turned to see if Captain Eona wanted to interject before his daughter continued.

Serra waited patiently while the Grand Moff's daughter made her way over to the room, silent and calm as ever. Things were going well enough, and of course she was perfectly in line with what had to be done. The ordeal with the Ensign was unfortunate, of course, but when it came to the Major, Serra had genuine concerns. When the daughter arrived Serra rose to her feet, showing the respect due to the blood of a Grand Moff. "First, I apologise that we must meet under unfortunate circumstances, but that is often the case in my line of work, I'm afraid." Courtesy was something she knew quite well. The cigarra was extinguished and discarded after a final inhale, just to be polite to the young woman. "To sum it up, Major Kiley has made it very clear that while she holds loyalty to your family, she holds no such strong allegiance to the Empire...something that serves to compromise not only Imperial security, but yours as well. She has also displayed certain disturbing attributes regarding self-mutilation...a sign of poor mental stability, and precisely the wrong kind of person to protect someone as valuable as a Grand Moff and his family."

Jelena froze as she listened to her father, and then the Captain, speak about her bodyguard. At first, there was relief that her duplicity had not been uncovered, but there might be an opportunity here to relieve herself of a pest. She nodded politely at Captain Eona, offering her a half-smile that she had so equally perfected at the Alderaan Select Academy for Young Ladies. "Father, I am afraid the Captain is accurate in her assessment," she began, lowering her head slightly as she spoke, feigning discomfort. "It is not my place to question your personnel decisions. But we have been quite displeased with her performance for quite some time..." she said, sounding as if she might cry ... quite the actress. "It's just..." she said, taking a step towards her father, and positioning herself directly in front of him. "...we know what she you been through concerning her and did not want to cause you undue stress," she concluded, hoping she had not done wrong.

Claudius froze as he listened to his daughter's co-indictment, the color retreating from his face, and his head sinking until his chin impacted his chest. "I see..." was all he could muster, before turning his back on them both and walking towards the viewport. He swallowed, his throat bulging so tightly against the collar of his uniform that he feared it might tear. "If there is nothing further, Captain ... I would like some privacy," and with that, he placed his hand upon the transparasteel, and braced himself against it, barely managing to remain upright.

So, it was done. The daughter's brief testimony had come entirely unexpected, but it solidified her suspicions and would get one incompetent officer out of the way. Once torn from this ridiculous devotion, perhaps the Major could become useful to the Empire once more. Perhaps not. Either way, it wasn't her concern. "Of course, My Lord. If you have need of me, you know how to find me." Not wishing to overstay her welcome, Serra turned and left the office, lighting a fresh cigarra once she got into the hall. One more cog turned, one more part of the machine greased and running smoothly. There were many more to go, but she was making progress.

Jelena allowed the Captain to leave, before turning to move towards her father. She detested the Empire ... she detested even more what it had made her father become. Instinctively, she took her hand, and placed it upon the back of his shoulder. She let it linger there for a moment, but said nothing, and neither did he. "I am sorry, father," she finally conceded, before bowing her head respectfully, and proceeding out of his father's office. She nodded to Liliya as she emerged, and started making a return to her quarters ... but then she stopped. "He needs you in there," she said quietly to Liliya, turning to face her for only a brief moment, before continuing on her way.

Liliya had been blissfully ignorant of the dealings happening in the office at this time, but soon things were going to be more transparent. First Captain Serra took her leave of the office in which Benedt nodded with regard but it was not long after that Lady Jelena also exited the room. The words of the other instantly worried her and she quickly rushed into the office as if Rodney had caught on fire. "Milord?" The clear signs of apprehension marred normally charming and elegant features. She studied the scene faster than any sentient could to notice all seemed well, at least physically, and she had been anticipating this meeting to go uneventfully. Despite nothing being amiss, her charge appeared as if he might topple over in dismay. "Milord!" She gasped out, how did this happen? She failed him! "Please sit down?" She was at his side almost instantly, trying to assist him ... but he seemed distant ... she was at a loss of what to do.

Perhaps the one good thing that had happened to him since his elevation to the title of Grand Moff was the arrival of Liliya Benedt. She did her best to shield him from the unending chaos that seemed to swirl about them, but despite her best efforts ... the situations seemed to be worsening. He did not turn to acknowledge her, he could not turn ... he did not want her to see the tears in his eyes. "If you would be so kind, my dear..." he began, his voice cracking, and sounding far weaker than anything she would have previously heard. "...would you please inform Major Kiley that I need to speak with her," he said, and then bit at his lip to hold his resolve. It was unbecoming for a man of his stature to display such emotion, or so he had been told during his upbringing.

"Of course ... but must it be this very moment? You do not look well Milord. Shall I prepare something for you to eat?" Liliya boldly suggested, though she felt it was her place to assure his well-being. Surely nothing could be accomplished if the important man keeled over. She stressed over the details, wondering if her schedule has been overbearing, now feeling terribly anxious that this was in no small part her fault. "Shall I cancel the rest of the appointments today?" As much as it pained her to say, but she was far more concerned with the Grand Moff's health, the meetings could wait till tomorrow. Perhaps a clear agenda would do much to reinvigorate him, the man desperately needed some time off.

"Yes. You are right, as always. Cancel everything," Claudius said weakly, as he turned to face her for the first time. His face looked as if it were about to shatter. His eyes were heavy, and despite his reserved upbringing it was clear that he had been unable to completely fight back the tears. He stepped forward weakly, trying to make it back towards his desk chair. It was only several feet away, but it might as well have been miles. "I'm in no position to deal with her like this. Once again ... you are right," he was forced to concede, realizing more and more that she knew better than him. He had come to rely on her, but perhaps he should cede her even greater control of his affair. At long last, he finally reached his chair, and stumbled into it tiredly. His mind dwelled on how it could have become so bad, so quickly, for them all.

The Governor would not have to worry about toppling to the ground as Benedt was right by his side, lending him support. Despite her delicate and tender exterior, she had no physical issue being that man's cornerstone and support, managing to aid him to his chair without an incident with a sigh of heavy relief. Liliya had been through very difficult times upon the Warspite with this man already, and she has seen him through many different stressful situations, but this was the first time she saw him on the verge of breaking emotionally and the very sight of it tore into her severely. She stood there silently while grappling with sorrow and sympathy for Rodney's situation and current state-of-mind. She had been programmed far too well for the sole purpose of serving him that she was extremely empathetic and sensitive to his suffering. A trembling hand reached out to touch his broad shoulder but she caught herself in the middle of the act, shame washing over her. The programming principles of Alderaan's upper class be damned, she powered through them by rerouting her initiative to making her charge's comfort be her prime directive for the moment. Apprehension was brushed aside as she took a post directly behind him, elegant fingers from delicate hands pressed expertly into troubled and tense muscles. She rubbed him devotedly and with sincerity, a loving touch even. Liliya did not find it necessary to speak during this, her actions should far outweigh her thoughts during this time.

A long, slow moan escaped Claudius' lips as Liliya unexpectedly made contact with him. He turned his head slightly to look at her over his shoulder, smiling thankfully, before facing front and beginning to slump forward. He considered verbally thanking her, but thought that perhaps some things were better left unsaid. In the corner of his mouth the drool began to flow, as he entered into a state of complete relaxation. He was sprawled out on the desk, and as he splayed his arms out, the datapads fell from the desk, and cracked on the ground below ... but he did not care. Each movement of her hand was met with a noise of approval, growing steadily more content, and perhaps even a tad lustful. Suddenly he was no longer the Governor of a priority oversector ... he was just a weary man in the care of a beautiful young woman. Little did the man know that the woman who was providing him this brief respite from the pain of life, was in reality a droid programmed to be his undoing.

Her initial apprehension for this bold initiative was quickly alleviated once she heard and felt that accumulation of anxiety begin to slip away from the overburdened man. Her charge was completely sprawled out on the desk in a quite unbecoming way, it caused Liliya to giggle softly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it Milord, you needed to relax." Said honestly and thoughtfully with a gentle smile as she continued to pin-point knotted muscles with precise pressure to release the tension. At last when she was satisfied of her work, hands smoothed out his uniform from the back, clearing the wrinkles she had caused before the soft sound of heels clicking on durasteel panels brought her around the desk to retrieve those fallen datapads. A curious look was afforded to her charge due his odd posture... "Milord?" Perhaps that man had fallen asleep? All the better ... and she swore he had this strange smile on his face. No matter, she was all too pleased to give him hiatus from the chaos of his duties as she quietly made her way to the exit, determined that no one shall interrupt his rest until he woke on his own accord.

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