Ask Raxus Escape Velocity

[Kellan Solari]

​

Raxus​

Northwest Quadrant​

1830 Hours​

The rain accompanying Kellan since his arrival on Raxus had thankfully dissipated into a sheer mist by the time he stepped from the maglev train and onto one of the city’s busier thoroughfares. Peering upward and through the lattice of catwalks and the crawl of hover-traffic, he caught a sliver of deadened gray sky. Holo-adverts in gaudy pastels burned against the monotone drizzle and all around was the jostling thrum of Imperial industriousness. The metropolis’ inhabitants moving in an unending press of pedestrians, congestion and frenetic vigor. The atmosphere carried a metallic taste that burnt his throat. Kellan flipped his overcoat up against the rain.

“Nearly there now, Lieutenant.”

If his droid companion was at all bothered by the near-constant precipitation, it didn’t let on. Its rain-dappled photoreceptors simply pinned him with their polymer gaze in an effort to determine his reaction to its remark, and thus to gauge its success in achieving whatever predetermined directives were floating around in its durasteel cranium. Lieutenant Solari had little patience for droids and their programmatic etiquette. May as well have a conversation with your food synthesizer. The thing had met him when he had touched down on the landing pad outside the city proper, primly informing him that it was to escort him to his specified meeting location.

“Great.” he said. “Then let's get moving.”

“Of course, sir.” replied the droid cheerfully, seemingly undeterred by the organic's gruff demeanor. “This way please.”

They shouldered their way from the station, through the late-afternoon swell of commuters. Every manner of being in the galaxy seemed to be present and seem unified in the shared goal of heading the opposite direction from Kellan’s. With watching with growing irritation as the RA-7, several steps ahead, navigated the sea of organics with apparent ease. Its matte-black cranial component occasionally swiveling around on its servomotor.

“Almost there, sir! Just ahead, Lieutenant!”

By the time the pair veered off onto one of Raxus’ countless tributary streets, Solari felt as though he might collapse from exhaustion. How did the citizens here tolerate such tight quarters? It made life aboard an Imperial Star Destroyer seem utterly pastoral by comparison. Following the droid through a dizzying procession of buildings and turbolifts, noting the increasingly stately decor of each as they went.

The lift’s durasteel doors opened onto one of the ferrocrete walkways of Raxus’ upper levels. Somewhere along the rain had either cleared or they had simply ascended to elevation beyond its reach. The path extended outward toward an ornately decorated building of luxom. Only corpos could afford to be so ostentatious. As he and the droid approached, he caught their reflection in its mirrored exterior and wondered at how out of place a simple TIE pilot must appear. Above the main entranceway, in lettering of delicate silver, it read Vosselin-Astradine Corp.

The name was a familiar one. Any pilot that spent the requisite time with their technical readouts would have seen it countless times before. Vosselin-Astradine was a well-known designer of propulsion and thrust systems, having worked closely with the manufacturer of the TIE Impetus Interceptor, Drommund Kalakar. The Impetus line had seen the Interceptor markedly improved in terms of durability and firepower. Shrugging off the inability for hyperspace travel and the welcome addition of deflector shielding made the craft a far more versatile and dangerous version than its predecessors. Vosselin-Astradine had been brought on to ensure that none of these innovations subtracted from the Interceptor’s signature speed or maneuverability. A task at which they had, by all accounts, met and exceeded expectations.

And so when word had come down from his superiors that he, along with several other experienced pilots, was to meet with Vosselin-Astradine engineers at one of their facilities on the Imperial homeworld of Raxus, Solari’s interest had been piqued. Vague promises of propulsion advances had been mentioned as well as the need for the insights of ‘Subject Matter Experts’ on the matter. His CO had been unusually tight-lipped with further specifics but rather signed off on Kellan’s required leave before sending him packing for Raxus.

What could he offer engineers that they weren’t able to determine for themselves? Surely Vosselin-Astradine had a fleet of their own test pilots for the purposes of quality assurance. Regardless of the unknowns, the prospect of an even nimbler TIE filled him with excitement. The 81st was already able to catch most opponents they ran across flatfooted. A squint, as naval personnel lovingly referred to their Interceptors, with an even greater turning radius would leave the majority of their potential foes positively devoid of answers.

They proceeded through the entranceway and Kellan was surprised to find the ‘building’ was little more than an entrance leading into an atrium. The back of the room consisted of a single turbolift door in front of which sat an attendant manning a small desk. The rest of the wall was comprised entirely of windows overlooking the vast urban sprawl of the metropolis.

The protocol droid approached the desk attendant and the pair exchanged words while Kellan busied himself studying the city view beyond the windows. He noted something unusual. Extending from the rear of the building, approximately from the spot beyond the turbolift door, was a broad, black cable composed entirely of carbonite from the looks of it. The massive tubing stretched from the building and arced steeply skyward and as Kellan followed its trajectory was shocked to find it disappeared several thousand meters above, vanishing into the cloudbanks above.

The RA-7 joined him by his side.

“We have been cleared for ascension, sir.” the protocol droid informed him. The lieutenant offered it a puzzled look.

“Ascension?” he repeated, looking back toward the cord climbing into the atmosphere. “To where?”

“Vosselin-Astradine’s primary Research & Development facility on Raxus resides approximately thirteen standard kilometers above planetary groundlevel on the X-1 Skyhook.”

“A-a skyhook?” Kellan repeated. Despite his time in the Imperial Navy, he was at heart just a yokel from a backwater system and it seemed no amount of interstellar travel could erase that fact.

“Indeed sir.” the RA-7 replied. “Skyhooks are structures residing above the surface of a system through the aid of repulsorlift technology. Such seclusion allows the owner of such properties a measure of secrecy and security, both of which are deemed top priorities for research facilities such as this one.”

The droid turned toward the turbolift door, which had slid open to reveal a well-appointed interior.

“All access to the X-1 facility is funneled through this turbolift which travels through the nanofiber Skybridge. Our estimated ascension time will be roughly forty-five standard minutes.” The droid took a few shuffling steps towards the turbolift. “Lieutenant, in light of such extended travel time, perhaps it would be wise for us to proceed?”

@Nor'baal @OsrikVek

 

[Galen Terco]

"It's just a lot of standing around, you know?" ST-1897 harumphed, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back on the wall of their guard station.

"Well, yeah? It's 'guard duty' man, what did you expect?" came the curt reply from ST-6675.

ST-1897 sighed "It's just not what I thought I'd be doing when I signed up. More fighting, less standing."

"It's a living, a lot better than loads of others."

"I suppose."

"Plus we get to se -"

"Serve the Empire, yeah - I've seen the training holos to."

The two Stormtroopers laughed. A rare moment of camaraderie between the two men, before the signal above the elevator door flashed, signalling the arrival of their bosses guest.

Galen Terco had 'requisitioned' the Skyhook a few days ago from a wealthy Imperial industrialist and her family. Since then he had ensured the place was locked down, the spymaster ensconced himself in the place's inner sanctum - strict orders to not disturb.

Whatever he was up to was big, both of the troopers knew it.

The ISB Agent was a dangerous man, with sufficient resources to amplify that danger sector-wide. Rumours were that he'd been instrumental in the exile and banishment of the Sith Order, in the suppression of resistance, and the expansion of Imperial efforts in 'independent planets' near the Empires borders.

Galen, of course, never endeared such rumours with a response.

He'd sent orders to the elevator guard team, informing them to bring his guest to the inner sanctum and leave them alone.

Once the lift arrived, the Stormtroopers would do just that.

 

[Tavell Hamber]

“Uba hasa mee yocola, outmian.”


The Rodian snarled at him from across the table.

“Come again?” Tavell sat in the alcove deliberately. Back against the wall, long overcoat to hide any hardware he might have been carrying, only a pistol but in bars like this it paid to look like you were more than they thought. He also knew enough Huttese to get by.

“Uba oeaf?”

“Beat lo slimebadd!” Tavell moved forward in his seat. His hand moved visibly. The Rodian balked at the balls of the human, then noticed the Imperial detailing on the overcoat. Raxus was an Imperial planet, it wouldn’t go well for the Rodian if he laid hands on an Imperial officer. He wrinkled his snout and backed away, “Sorree d'emperiolo, mah addoh.”

“Figured as much.” He downed his glass, pushing it across the table and got up. The overcoat hung down, bat wings folded against the pilot’s body as he stepperd outside, pulled his collar up to repel something of the rain and started walking. The sky above the city was a glare of neon airboards promising a new life, a new blaster, a vacation to Naboo, and promises of a greater sex life if you used Dr Raschus’ Death Sticks. Tavell grunted as the rain crept into his collar and inside slick and quick. The cold discomfort was less irritating and unnerving than the motions of the planet. On ships there was a vibration, a hum, a reassuring, gentle rumble from the ship’s engines and the antigrav generators that made him feel at home. He’d lived on board ships for most of his life now, the stillness of being planetside made his skin itch. He longed for the feeling of antigrav on his bones, the pull of his fighter as he swung it around like a weighted cloak.

He walked stiffly, the smells of street food drifting over him making him hungry. But he hadn’t the time for partaking in deep fried mynock noodles or rotoven. Airspeeders flew in long, slow flight patterns like migratory birds that had lost their way. A droid trundled past him, making him sidestep. He pressed into his ear, “I’m almost at the Skyhook. Hold the lift. I’m not waiting for the next one.”

He quickened his steps. This would have been so much easier if he could have landed a small speeder at the peak instead of a backward passenger lift.

@Nor'baal
@Tic

 

[Kellan Solari]

The turbolift chimed its arrival and as the doors slid apart it was all Kellan could do not to bolt from its interior. Having spent the lionshare of an hour trapped in a vestibule with a chatty droid was nearly enough to see him spin on his heels and forget the whole misadventure. What's worse was that at the eleventh hour, Lieutenant Hamber Tavell Hamber, a man in the running for his least favorite member of the 81st TIE Wing, had pressed his booted foot between the closing turbolift door and had insisted on accompanying Solari and the droid up towards the skyhook. The next forty-five minutes had been a test in endurance. At certain point, had he been able, Kellan would've gladly broken the plasteel exterior of the lift and taken the express route back to Raxus' surface. He stepped from the lift and found himself confronted by a pair of stormtroopers.

What were stormtroopers doing on a privately owned skyhook? What empty suit corpo executive had thought this a good idea? Kellan clenched his teeth hard enough to set his jaw muscles popping. Whoever or whatever had lured him to Raxus hadn’t seen fit to take the direct route. As he eyed the troopers, and their heavy repeaters, he felt that this was rapidly becoming less an invitation and more a capture.

“What is this?” he asked, abruptly aware that he had left his sidearm behind. He turned to the protocol droid who had fallen uncharacteristically silent. “What’s going on here? Is this your doing Hamber?”

“I do hope you gentlemen will forgive the deception.” the RA-7 cut in, vocabulator apparently set to ‘apologetic’. “I’m afraid the secrecy was judged as necessary for a meeting of this nature.”

“A meeting of what nature?” Kellan demanded. “A meeting with who?”

The black droid gestured towards the waiting stormtroopers. Solari resisted the urge to use what would assuredly be his final act to throttle the light out of the lying bolt-bucket’s photoreceptors.

“If you’ll simply accompany these troopers, Lieutenant, I believe everything will soon become clear.”

Outgunned, cornered and short of options, Lieutenants Solari and Hamber fell in step with the stormtroopers as they made their way through the palatial reception area of Vosselin-Astradine’s Raxus facility. They found navigating following a lit pathway through what appeared to be a functioning biosphere teeming with plantlife. Verdant pastures of lush, yet well manicured, greenery were positioned atop floating platforms that drifted around the space at such a crawl that they nearly gave the impression of being wholly static. They orbited overhead so serenely that Kellan couldn’t help but think that under different circumstances, it would have been a wondrous thing to visit.

They weaved their way through a series of corridors, the viewport lined walls offered a stunning glimpse of Raxus, sparkling like a magnetic storm, far below. The stormtroopers came to a halt before an ornate door. One of them waved their hand across the control console and the doors opened. They stepped aside and paid the pilots no further notice.

Solari and Hamber stepped through the entranceway of a large, circular room rimmed with viewpanels. In the center sat a raised dais with several tables and accompanying chairs. A rather large holoprojector extended from the ceiling. Near the device stood an ISB officer Kellan had never seen before. Kellan wasn’t intimately familiar with the specific hierarchy of the bureau, but the officer’s rank insignia seemed to suggest he was one of the shadowy organizations higher ups. Higher rank than he was, in any case.

They stepped forward and the door slid shut behind them. Solari approached the officer.

“Sir.” Solari said. “I’m hoping you can shed some light as to precisely what is going on here?”

@Nor'baal @OsrikVek

 

[Galen Terco]

Galen didn't move as the pair entered the 'inner sanctum'. Instead, he retained his position, looking out of the observation window which cut from the ceiling to the floor and commanded excellent views of the planet below.

"Lieutenant Kalen Solari." the ISB Officer remarked after a moment had passed, allowing the palpable silence in the room to add to the tension that mounted with each passing second. There was nothing to be gained in rushing his conversation, Galen had been taught how best to make use of his position, and the reputation for terror that it came with, to get what he wanted.

He remained facing away from the pair. "And of course, never without Tavell Hamber close by." he added, drawing attention to the close relationship of the pair. "You've both performed reasonably in line with expectations of late." Galen stated it as a fact, diminishing their undoubtedly impressive achievements to little more than a line on an ISB report.

Finally he turned, as a large holoprojector sprung into life in the center of the room, showing the image of a combat tank, recently purchased by Kalen at an auction. "Do you recognise these?" he asked, giving away nothing about the ISBs own involvement in the auction, and instead making his tone accusatory.

 

[Kellan Solari]

What was this?

Kellan warily eyed the shimmering image of the assault tank that rotated slowly above the holoprojectors base. He recognized it immediately, of course. It was the precise model he had covertly purchased from an illicit arms auction on the Empire’s behalf. Or perhaps more accurately, he had purchased twenty of the lethal vehicles. At the time, he hadn’t had the faintest idea of their intended purpose. He hadn’t even known from whom the order had originated.

As he stood before the unnamed ISB officer, he remotely wondered if he might receive answers to those, still quite fascinating, questions. The words of his father echoed distantly in his thoughts.

Never tell anyone more than they need to know.

Kellan exhaled loudly and regarded the projection once more, an expression of earnest study written across his face.

“If I were to venture a guess?” he said. “I’d say it’s some flavor of tank.”

He shook his head, extending one upturned palm towards the man.

“Beyond that, it’s a bit out of our wheelhouse, sir.” he said, waving towards Lieutenant Tavell. He felt a pang embitterment resonate in his chest. What did Tavell have to do with…whatever all this was anyway? The older pilot hadn’t had anything to do with the auction so far as Solari was aware. It was a gamble, but Solari was willing to play coy for as long as the as the man wished. “Lieutenant Tavell and I fly TIEs, you see.”

@Nor'baal @OsrikVek

 

[Tavell Hamber]

“Looks like an Occupier. Not been intimate with one on account that I’m usually high above them. But they’re good in close quarters. Urban support if I’m right?”

Tavell sensed that Kellan was uneasy at his presence. But he wasn’t about to let the young buck out of his sight. Not when he flew under Tavell’s wing.

“The kid is right though, we fly TIE’s but then I’m guessing you already know that. You seem to know a lot about us, yet you’re something of a ghost.”

He unbuttoned his overcoat, and hung it casually over a chair.

“Judging by your tone, Solari has been intimate with them though, Sir. How intimate that is, well I don’t know. I’ve just been ordered to keep an eye on him. He’s a hot-head but then you probably know that too-” He paused, tasing the atmosphere much like a snake. “Sir.”

@Tic
@Nor'baal

 

[Galen Terco]

Galen bristled ever so slightly as Tavell removed his jacket, in flagrant disregard for uniform regulations. However, there was a time and a place to have such a dispute, and this was neither. He looked Kellan up and down, considering how best to make his next move before he spoke again. "I'm surprised you don't know more about this make of vehicle." Galen said cooly "Given you purchased a number of them at an illicit auction, according to information gathered by my agents." he lied.

Well, technically it wasn't a lie. He did know they had purchased them because they had done so (without their knowledge) on behalf of the ISB.

"How did you acquire the funds to make this purchase?" he asked, as if this was some form of corruption accusation. "Officers on your payscale couldn't possibly do so without help. So, indulge me - where did you acquire the funds to make this purchase?" he asked, walking a few paces toward the two men.

 

[Kellan Solari]

The pilot said nothing but rather eyed the officer for a prolonged moment. Was his accusatory tone purposeful or was this part of some ruse popularized amongst those in the intelligence field? Had his participation in the auction been in breach of Imperial protocol? It was almost a certainty. But he was equally as certain the order had stemmed from legitimate sources.

After all, it had been his commanding officer that had approved his leave, almost without comment. The entire shadow operation had left him uneasy, but never had he questioned whether or not his actions had been in service of the Empire. The man was clearly being duplicitous. It was, after all, presumably his stock and trade.

Lieutenant Solari gave a playful click of his lips and let a feigned expression of recognition wash over his features.

“Ah, the TX-225.” he said at last. “Apologies sir, hard to gauge at this distance. Where’d the money come from? I’m afraid I couldn’t posit a guess, sir. Orders came across my CO’s desk. No names attached. Communication was one way over a secure channel on a sliced datapad. Very hush hush.”

He shrugged.

“Struck me as odd, but the auth codes checked out and the brass seemed onboard. I may be a hothead…” he shot Tavell a venomous glance. “…but I’m loyal to the Empire.”

“Protecting cloak and all that, sir.” He added, evoking the Navy’s motto. His cards on the table at last, there was little left to do but see if their enigmatic host would opt to ante up.

@Nor'baal @Vek

 

[Galen Terco]

Kellan was the only one to reply at this point, so Galen turned slightly to face him. "Excellent." The ISB officer was impressed. There was no way they could have known who had paid for the vehicles, yet they followed the authority with which it came to the letter. Loyal subjects to the Empire were what was needed, now more than ever.

Across the Galaxy, order was breaking down. Force 'monsters' attacked major planets, and the Sith ran rampant like a rabid dog off its leash. Yet it was all to hard to have them put down simply. To the Empires south, lawless systems grew in strength, whilst the Cartel remained a titanic force in the southern region. "The Empire continues to have need of such a cloak, and more." he continued, drawing on to his next point.

The independent worlds needed to be brought to heel, either directly or indirectly. "Tell me, what experience do you have in the more logistical and peacekeeping side of the Imperial regime? Specifically on more 'remote' planets, with perhaps a more storied past when it comes to Imperial Governance?" he asked, seeking to know if this man and his compatriot where up to the task of supporting independent regimes, and winning them to the Empires sphere of influence as puppet states.

 

[Kellan Solari]

The officer was speaking Kellan’s language now. From the day he had enlisted in the Imperial Navy the young pilot had felt the persistent pull of wanting to do more. The desire to see Imperial doctrine, and the order it carried, spread across sectors had lingered in his thoughts until it was familiar. Beyond question. Implacable. As rooted in his mind as his sense of self. Perhaps this was the opportunity to see those unspoken desires seen out. His palms went clammy.

“My expertise is limited to piloting but I’m a quick study, sir.” he replied, the toying pretense now stripped from his voice. “I grew up on Ryloth. I’m no stranger to remote worlds or what it takes to tame them. I’m sure you’re already aware that my father was a lawman. He fought the disorder and corruption of the syndicates his entire life. He taught me many things, sir. But chief among them was that life in the absence of a system is disorderly, bloody and cruel.”

His father had laid in the dirt for the better part of an hour by the time they had found him. Only a boy, Kellan had been hesitant to approach the prone figure. The smell of burnt flesh was overpowering. The mangled form calling out to him had barely resembled the man he had known. When he had worked up the nerve, the youth had knelt beside his dying father and listened to his last words. Each syllable had sent a puff of dirt sprouting from the older man’s caked lips. Solari could see it as clearly today as he could back then.

“Only the Empire can provide the guiding hand needed. The stability.” he said. “I may be just a pilot, but I can promise you that no one will work harder on its behalf. No one will go farther. I can assure you sir, when faced with what needs to be done, I won’t flinch.”

@Nor'baal @Vek

 

[Galen Terco]

There was nothing in Kellans file to suggest that what he said was untrue. He was an impressive figure of an officer, with a combat record to match his accolades of loyalty, and for Galen that was enough. The ISB had no reason to doubt the integrity of their intelligence, and combined with the man's ability to remain true to his brief unwaveringly, that was all Galen needed.

"You will need to learn some of the finer arts of command, and therefore I am reassigning you." he spoke clipped as he produced a code cylinder from his top pocket. "You will retain your commission in the Imperial Navy, but will be made available to the ISB," he continued, not enabling the man to interrupt should he have questions about the haste of his reassignment. Galen had already put in, and had the order for the mans transfer approved before Kellan had even arrived to the meeting.

When the ISB wanted something, they tended to get it.

"You are to be reassigned, for the next few months, to the ISB Training Facility on Raxus, and once you pass your training, you shall then be assigned as an asset to the 'Blackout Fleet' at your present rank." Galen instructed, handing Kellen the code cylcinder, which contained his new clearance codes."[/color] he saltured the man, before pressing an ISB insignia on his lapel. "Welcome to the ISB."

 

[Kellan Solari]

Kellan’s head was swimming. His vision seemed to elongate and shift, the interior of the room undulating as though some great school of beasts slid and writhed behind those surfaces. The Imperial Security Bureau. If the Imperial Armed Forces were the Empire’s iron grip, the ISB acted as its enigmatic heart and mind, snaking its ephemeral tendrils through the filthy secrets the Galaxy harbored.

Within their ranks, Kellan would no longer simply act as the hammer to mete out Imperial justice. Now he would help, however indirectly, shape the Imperial ethos as a whole. Fortify its proponents, ferret out its enemies and ensure its lasting endurance. This was an opportunity to enact true change.

“Thank you, sir.” he managed. His face burned and his tongue felt too big for his mouth. “And my current posting, sir?”

“Your inquiries will be answered in due time, Lieutenant Solari.”

Startled, he spun to find the RA-7’s lifeless photoreceptors watching him expectantly. He hadn’t even heard the door open.

“If you’ll follow me. You as well, Lieutenant Hamber. This posting applies to you both.” it said. The artisanal courtesy was now notably absent from its voice. A programmed charade of civility used solely for interactions with those outside the know. Absurd as it was, Kellan felt the distinct sensation of taking the first step into a larger world. “There’s much to do and we’re quite behind schedule. Blackout Fleet is perhaps not as structured as some entities beneath the Imperial banner, however it adheres its own protocols nonetheless.”

“Blackout Fleet.” Kellan repeated numbly. He saluted, spun on his heels and followed the protocol droid out of the room, still barely aware of his actions.

He risked a glance over his shoulder only once. Behind him, the unnamed ISB Officer stood motionless at the heart of the Vosselin-Astradine facility's control room. The doors to the room slid closed, but in that shrinking window of visibility, Kellan swore he caught a smile slip across the man's lips.

/endthread

@Nor'baal @Vek