People and Places and Things

[MoreThanSane]

It was quiet. A rather odd contrast with the norms of an Alliance barracks building. Boisterous young men were rarely quiet.

But the Special Forces 5th Regiment barracks on Coruscant didn't house boisterous young men. In fact, if some of the NCOs had had their way, there would have been a sign above the front entrance that read "Intelligent Individuals Only--Idiots Not Allowed." For it took a mind to be an Infiltrator. It took skill and daring and creativity and finesse and a coldness not seen among other regiments. These were men with confidence and ability to back up this confidence.

And they kept to themselves.

Sergeant Aelianus Atratinus hung upside down from his bunk, legs locked over its heavy durasteel railing, his black hair dripping with sweat and his bare chest glistening with the same. He was breathing heavily, stomach muscles contracting as he lifted himself up one final time before releasing his legs and rotating his body to land on his feet.

He sighed, grabbing clean clothes from his bag and pulling them on. He did not enjoy the barracks, but he'd recently sold his flat to a very wealthy former acquaintance and so had no where to stay on Coruscant, nor did he have any assignments pending. The boredom was almost overwhelming.

There was a gentle knock at the door, and Aelianus turned to find a man standing in the doorway. He was short, perhaps five or six inches shorter than Aelianus himself, with black hair, a splash of grey about the temples, and blue eyes. The man was older and obviously military. His bright eyes seemed to absorb Aelianus even as he did the same.

"What?" Aelianus asked, usually not caring for visitors. But this man was different, perhaps he'd even prove interesting.

 

[Kiro]

Merrt Haas, recently added to the Galactic Alliance Special Forces Battalion, Fifth Regiment, The Infiltrators, slightly raised a solitary dark eyebrow at the gruff response from the tall fellow that answered the door. "Sergeant Atratinus?" His voice was somewhat of a rarity on Coruscant, the heart of the Galactic Alliance. It was a voice speaking with a distinctive Imperial accent. Something most Alliance citizens only heard from Imperial propaganda broadcasts, or the odd refugee. Yet this aging fellow was clearly no refugee, as he was dressed in the standard issue uniform of the Alliance Special Forces, 5th Regiment.

The man extended a calloused hand with a faded scar across the back to Aelianus. Not to shake, for in said hand was a datapad. "Sergeant Merrt Haas. I have something for you. May I?" Again, that Imperial accent, with it's subtle hint of condesending arrogance. As the taller soldier took the datapad and stepped back, Merrt stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him. Upon inspection, it was clear that Sergeant Haas wore no weapons on his person. None that could be seen, at least.

"The details are in the datapad. Feel free to read up if you like." The Imperial's eyes darted around the room, clearly examining with an experienced soldier's gaze, searching for exits, potential threats, and what could be used as weapons and cover. "Some find visual stimuli preferable to aural. This operation is off the records, by the way. Not a black op, mind you. More a grey. Only the two of us, and High Command are to know of this operation." He took a seat in one of Aelianus' chairs, and crossed his arms over his chest, one leg resting on the knee of the other.

"We are to undertake a mission of Target Hardening. And our target..." He let the sentance hang as he leaned back in the chair, those bright, and clearly intelligent, blue eyes staring at the taller, younger, perhaps fitter, soldier. "Is the Alliance Military Academy of Anaxes."

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus felt a curious smile tug at the corner of his mouth. Interesting indeed. He took the datapad, but kept his eyes on the other sergeant, the sergeant with the distinctly Imperial accent. Imperial refugees weren't unheard of, but in the Alliance Military they were quite rare. Most citizens running from the Imperium weren't interested in participating in a war in which they may end up fighting their brothers and sisters.

But this man--this Merrt Haas--obviously didn't feel the same.

Fascinating, thought Aelianus. The possibility of Haas being an Imperial spy had occurred to him, but he reserved judgement for a later date. Most Imperial agents had a habit of disguising their accents before infiltrating a target, unless they were incredibly dumb or--and perhaps this was the case of Merrt Haas--absolutely brilliant.

The mission put a damper on things, however. Aelianus was one of the 5th Regiment's top operators. Why was he stuck running a target hardening op? He scrolled through the mission details, then tossed the pad back to Haas. The older man plucked it smoothly from the air.

"So it is," he grabbed several pieces of clothing and, walking over to his mostly prepacked bag, shoved them inside. "I have to tell you, I love the accent. Very unique. It always puts your fellow operators at ease, I'm sure." His piercing green eyes flashed, the hint of a smile still creeping around the fringes of his mouth. Every movement, every twitch of a muscle, every breath that Haas took, Aelianus absorbed, analyzed, and added to a quickly expanding mental file tagged very clearly, Haas, Merrt--Caution. Observation was the key to the unraveling of men such as this, he knew, and Aelianus Atratinus was a master of observation.

 

[Kiro]

A grin. A wry one at that, was the expression that Sergeant Atratinus' comment produced. "Oh quite. It's a marvelous conversation piece." With the datapad in hand, Merrt rose and eyed his young colleague packing his bags with military efficiency. "All I have to do to get a reaction is open my mouth." Shaking his head, he rises from his seat and moves to the door, where he pauses slightly.

"On the matters of transportation, what would you suggest?" Again he turns to regard Aelianus with those piercing blue eyes, his hands clasped together behind his back. If not for the SpecForce uniform (which looked terribly out of place), Sergeant Haas would have appeared to be poster child of an Imperial senior officer. His posture, accent, even the black, greying, hair and blue eyes were as if taken from an Imperial recruitment holo. 'The Emperor Wants YOU!' "I'm quite keen to hear your ideas, Sergeant. Do you have a ship of your own, or would you requisition one, or would you have us take public transportation? And if you do not have a ship, I have one that might be of use, but please, enlighten me."

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus slung his bag over a shoulder and moved past Haas as he exited the room. "Yeah, I've got a ship, Sergeant. The Suitably Eccentric, parked right out back. She'll get us to Anaxes and she'll get us there fast." He strode down the corridor toward where the Regiment had its few landing pads, not waiting for Haas. He assumed the shorter man would keep up.

And he did. "So, Sergeant Haas," he said as they passed through the doors and into the warm Coruscanti sun, "I'll admit I'm a bit confused, and since you're the one who was contacted by Command perhaps you can enlighten me. Why is it that they see fit to assign me, an Operator with a near-perfect record, and you," he glanced at the man, "a former Imperial and obviously experienced soldier, to so low-profile a mission?"

They were following the walkway that weaved between the landing pads, most of them currently full. The Suitably Eccentric was just coming into view. "Is there something I'm missing?" Aelianus asked.

 

[Kiro]

"No, I think you hit the proverbial nail on the head, my friend." Haas replied, walking next to Aelianus. The elder soldier had picked up his own bag outside the younger's room, and had no issues with taking the Suitably Eccentric to Anaxes. "Use that beautiful brain that I'm sure you have locked away up there. Alliance Command suddenly has a former Imperial Stormtrooper on their hands, a highly trained operative by any standard, whom wishes to join their ranks. They send him away for a year to undergo cross-training, and then place him in a regiment filled with elite intelligence operatives, spies, and spy-hunters."

He shifted his grip on the bag slightly, unable to heft it quite as easily as the taller Aelianus, with his long legs. But he still managed to keep up. He wasn't that old. Not yet. "As I'm sure you've already considered yourself, there's a very real possibility that I may indeed by an Imperial agent, which is a dangerous prospect for the Alliance." Merrt smirks up at the younger man, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "And don't deny it. I read your profile. Aside from the mission to Lorta, and even that you managed to pull off, your record is indeed perfect. Whom better to watch the suspected Imperial agent, and to test him on a, as you put it, 'low profile' operation?"

As they reached the curiously named ship, Merrt paused and waited for it's owner unlock it and lower the boarding ramp. "I must point out that one of your assumptions is flawed, my young friend. The Military Academy on Anaxes is a high security facility. It's produced the finest officers and operatives of the Galaxy for several millenia, regardless of which government was in power. Palpatine's Empire. The Republic. Fel's Empire. The Sith Empire. The Galactic Alliance." The Imperial defector leans against the ship's hull, peering over the hangar and the occupied landing pads, filled with ships that he had at one point only expected to see with blasters bearing down on him, and now were those of his brothers in arms. "And the sons and daughers of several important members of the Alliance are currently attending the Academy. Including several Senators and Alliance brass. You can imagine the damage if someone managed to destroy it from the inside, or replace training blasters with live ones? Or indeed set up pro-Imperial cells?"

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus was impressed. The man obviously had a powerful talent for discerning the truth behind people's actions. It was refreshing, but served to make him even more suspicious. "Smart man," Aelianus said and keyed open the Eccentric's ramp. The old YT-1930 droned quietly as the ramp lowered to the permacrete with a thud. Aelianus walked, boot heels clanging against the ramp.

"Well, if you are a spy I'll find you out." Aelianus dropped his bag in the lounge. "Know that. If you aren't, then I hope you're as good as you seem to be." He waved a hand toward the ship's port side. "Take one of the bunks, I don't care which. I'll get us moving out."

He walked to the cockpit and began the ship's preflight sequence. He'd not been joking before. If this Haas was a spy, then he was excellent. If he wasn't, then he was still excellent. Either way, Aelianus got the feeling that the mission--however boring in and of itself--would prove quite interesting.

 

[Kiro]

"I hope you do." Was Merrt's simple reply as he headed for the port side which Aelianus had pointed out. Once there he put his bag down by one of the bunks, and quickly started to change out of the uniform and into a civilian, yet high quality set of clothes. A pair of black military quality boots, a set of dark grey trunks, and a matching sweater. Around his waist he strapped his trademark weapons. The two SlagMakers. They rested in their holsters, Bastion-style, hanging straight down, blaster grips pointing back, as opposed to Corellian-style, which had the gun resting further down on your thigh, and in a slightly more 'casual' style, so loved in holo-flicks.

With the guns secured, the Sergeant then strapped on the harness for his vibro-knife around his chest, the blade resting in the small of his back. Then he pulls on a long black jacket, before moving to the cockpit to join his fellow Sergeant, taking a seat opposite the young man. "Any ideas as to how we'll infiltrate the Academy?" The Imperial looks remarkably relaxed where he sits. He even pulls out one of the strange pistols, and carefully examines the weapon, letting the ship's captain actually pilot it. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit too old to pass as a Cadet."

 

[MoreThanSane]

"So you are." The Suitably Eccentric's engines roared as he powered up the repulsorlifts and they rocketed off the pad at a speed violating every Coruscanti space- and air-traffic law that Aelianus could name. The comm buzzed with the shouts of an indignant controller. "Hey, go kriff yourself, okay?" The soldier muted the device as they burned toward orbit.

"It shouldn't be difficult," he began the navcomp processes required to calculate the best path to Anaxes. "I'm sure the Academy receives visiting speakers all the time. You play Colonel So-And-So, just arrived to give the lecture on Target Hardening--irony is a wonderful thing, isn't it?--and I'll be your ever-present aid. It'll only take a few calls for me to set it all up."

The navcomp beeped and he made a few adjustments of his own before they cleared the gravity well. "Your thoughts?"

 

[Kiro]

"They do, but they are often carefully screened, and it's a high profile entry. Certainly doable, of course, but it carries risk. There are thousands of Alliance Colonels, but one showing up for an unbooked lecture? It might start raising eyebrows." Merrt replies, and apparently finishes his inspection of the pistol, and places it down on top of a console between them, before drawing and inspecting the second. "Like any Military organization, the Academy relies on a strict set of routines and a carefully scheduled corriculum. Speakers are often booked years in advance. Military heroes and such. Grand Admirals. Jedi Generals. Slicing their computer system and altering it would certainly be doable, but it'd arouse suspicion."

The aging Sergeant removes the power clip from the gun and squeezes the trigger a couple of times, checking the pull and the break, before flipping the safety back on, and sliding the clip back in place, and listening carefully to the weapon's hum, along with the ship's hyperdrive spooling up. "The best way to infiltrate a military facility in my experience, is to take advantage of those careful routines. We both have clearance to view their schedules over the holonet, but even if we didn't, any skilled slicer would be able to find it. And feel free to check out the gun. I made it myself."

From a pocket in his jacket, Merrt retrieves a piece of cloth, which he starts running over the blaster in his hand, cleaning it carefully, his eyes seemingly completely focused on the weapon. "Our purpose here is to harden the target. To make it harder, and I shan't say impossible, for nothing is truly impossible, for a genuine Imperial agent to worm his way into the Academy. So we will have to think, and act, like an Imperial operative. And thus, keeping a low profile is best."

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus waved away the offer to inspect the other's weapon as he finished up his calculations and pulled back the hyperdrive levers. There was a slight whine as the engines powered up for the jump, and then stars became starlines and they shot into the mottled blue chaos that was faster-than-light travel. The voyage to Anaxes wouldn't take long, not with the Suitably Eccentric's incredibly fast class 0.3 hyperdrive.

"Keeping a low-profile may be more efficient," he said, turning to Haas, "but rarely is it as interesting. Nevertheless, I don't care how we do it. Being that you're the Imperial agent, I suppose I'll follow your lead," he raised an eyebrow, gauging the older man for a response. He doubted Haas would be stupid enough--if he was indeed an Imperial--to act in a way that would give Aelianus any clue as to his loyalties, but he decided to take every opportunity to suggest such. Perhaps eventually it would push the man over the edge, and then Aelianus would be able to judge his real responses.

 

[Kiro]

Instead of hurt pride or outrage at being called an Imperial Agent, Merrt Haas just laughed. A deep, warm, and hearty laughter. "You're right, of course." The elder soldier just shakes his head and holsters both guns, rubbing his clean-shaven chin carefully, a wry smile on his lips. "Well, like our own base on Coruscant, there's countless civilians and faceless low-level military staff. Any one of them could go missing, or even be replaced, without anyone raising an eyebrow. Custodial staff. Kitchen staff. Technicians. Mechanics. Even security personel. Every one of those is an opening. You can't run a facility that big with a purely military staff."

The blue eyes turned to observe Aelianus. He could almost hear the gears turning inside the young man's mind, sorting and filing away information like a high-powered computer. Trying to dig his way to the core of what was Merrt Haas, and if he truly was an Imperial operative, and where his true allegiance lay. The aging soldier could only smile and shake his head in bemusement. He'd met his kind before. They were frequently made for the best XO's, and the best operatives, even if they could have some issues with trust, or dealing with one's fellow sentients.

"Every one of those are a weakness. A way in. Like the exhaust port of Palpatine's old Death Star. The security for any of those paths are far more lax than the front entrance, or for visiting dignitaries."

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus cocked his head slightly. The older soldier's was the correct reaction, of course. And it seemed genuine. So either Merrt Haas was on their side, or he was one hell of an agent. Aelianus shrugged mentally. Only time would tell for certain.

"You're right, of course. And I appreciate the reference," he said dryly. "So we infiltrate--I've no doubt that it'll be easy enough--then what?" They could do any number of things once inside, but Aelianus decided to leave their true course of action up to Haas himself. Giving the man free creative control would serve to make him expose his personality and his thought processes more fully, and his doing that would only give Aelianus more data with which to unravel his mysteries.

"What would an Imperial agent do? Bombs, abductions, assassinations, slicing for information, planting viruses," he made a tutting sound, "they're all just so appealing, are they not?"

 

[Kiro]

Merrt just grinned and crossed his arms over his chest as he glanced over at the younger Infiltrator. "As my drill sergeant used to say: If it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing. But then again, he did love that conc rifle more than his own wife..." The ex-Stormtrooper shakes his head once more, clearly recalling something from his past. "It's a war college. It has regularly scheduled classes, meal times, and several important dignitaries visiting." The grin remained on the elder operative's face as the Suitably Eccentric traveled through hyperspace towards Anaxes, and their mission. The man was clearly enjoying himself.

Pulling out a datapad out of a pocket, Merrt starts tapping away, making a list for himself and writing up possible targets. "A couple of smoke bombs, industrial strenght laxatives laced into the mess hall food to simulate mass poisoning, and an assassination, with a virus triggering every single security alert possible should do nicely, I think. Don't you?" Chuckling to himself, he saves the file, engages the encryption, and stuffs it back into his pocket. "So. Aelianus Atratinus. That's an uncommon name. It's certainly not Corellian."

 

[MoreThanSane]

"Oh, indeed," Aelianus wondered how he would keep track of Haas during all that chaos. But he knew he would manage somehow. He always did. He only hoped they would manage to find a suitably annoying dignitary for the mock assassination. He enjoyed little more than scaring the kriff out of the soft, frequently irritating privileged.

Aelianus shrugged at the mention of his name. "I'm not certain of its origins, quite honestly." He normally wouldn't discuss his past with anyone, but Haas claimed to have read his file. "My mother committed suicide shortly after my birth, and my father disappeared. So, naturally, I never got the opportunity to ask them. No other relatives have shown themselves in the last twenty-nine years, so I simply assume they don't exist. Of course I could trace my family line, but that's a waste of time and credits.

"What about you, Sergeant?" he asked. "I'll admit I haven't pulled your file, nor have I ever heard of you. What's your story?"

 

[Kiro]

That wiped the pleased smile from the ex-Imperial's face, and he sighed heavily at Aelianus' revelation. He had indeed read the soldier's file, but only what concerned his military career and his role as an Infiltration Operator. He certainly hadn't been ready for him to reveal the grizzly background of his youth. So much for bonding. "I'm sorry. No father should walk out on his family, regardless how though... I shouldn't have asked." He ran a hand over his face slowly, before running it through his greying hair, just staring ahead at the swirling dance of hyperspace.

"I was born and raised on Raxus Prime. The shining jewel of the Empire. Trying to change the mood in the cockpit, Merrt forces forth a chuckle about his comment on Raxus Prime. "The true Empire, before those Sith bastards killed the Emperor, usurped the throne, and perverted everything that was good about the Empire. I served as a Stormtrooper. 133rd Legion, 333rd Regiment, the Steadfast. No truer Stormtroopers ever lived. My old Major told me the entire Regiment went AWOL when the Sithspawn took over." His voice changes several times during his tale, changing from dripping with raw, pure, undiluted hatred when speaking of the current rulers of the 'New Sith Imperium', to whistful when speaking of his former regiment.

"I wasn't serving when they usurped the throne. I'd retired back home to be with my wife and daughter. Used my savings to buy hive's factory plant, and ran that for a couple of years. Then... well, things happened that made it less than healthy for us to stay. So we came here. My wife's back on Coruscant. The Alliance was kind enough to provide us with a small flat. My daughter... I can't say I know where she is." Again, Sergeant Haas sighs heavily, his gaze dropping to stare at his calloused, scarred, hands. The hands of a worker, a soldier, a husband, a father, a deserter, a traitor. The hands of one whom had failed in all those tasks.

 

[MoreThanSane]

What's that about? Aelianus wondered, not understanding the man's sudden change in mood. He hadn't intended to say anything that wa--

Ah, he understood. Most people considered his past sad. Aelianus couldn't help but chuckle himself. Thanks to his father's stupidity and his mother's weakness, he'd grown up in a home not torn by strife, inducted into accelerated academic programs at a young age, set on a path leading toward success. If his parents hadn't abandoned him, he doubted any of those things would've happened. It was something he'd considered at great length, deciding that he'd most likely have ended up the head of a crime cartel. A very unappealing position, in his opinion.

He was fascinated by Haas' story--if it was true. He still hadn't the information to be certain, but the man's emotions seemed authentic enough. He managed to discern, however, that now was not the time for continued discussion.

And so he let the silence hang. Leaning back in the pilot's chair, Aelianus watched the blue of hyperspace and waited for Anaxes to come.

~~~

"Good for you," Aelianus sneered over the comm. These idiot spaceport controllers were relentless. "Are you certain you don't need to check with your superiors for that too?" He didn't wait for a response.

The Suitably Eccentric hurtled through Anaxes' lower atmosphere, hull only just cooling after Aelianus aggressive piloting through the upper. He hit the key for the ship intercom. "Anaxes in two, Haas."

 

[Kiro]

"Roger that. Thanks for the heads up." Haas replied over the same system. He'd excused himself earlier to prepare for their mission, and as such had retired to the bunk area, sorting through his bag of kit and a few clothes (some spares, a couple of uniforms, his Alliance-issued armour), to see just what to take with him when they hit planetside. One thirty... In truth, all he needed for weapons were the ones already on his person, but ever the pragmatic soul, he grabbed his toolbelt with it's countless pockets of handy gadgets and, well, tools, as well as a few choice tools that went into several deep pockets in his jacket and trousers. Some obvious and some less so.

With the landing approaching, he grabbed hold of something bolted down, and simply braced for the impact of several tonnes of durasteel coming to grips with gravity once more. No matter how fine a ship you had, some things were always true. The hyperspace jolts and landing were the obvious two. He didn't mind the hyperspace jolts, and sometimes didn't even feel it. He'd traveled through hyperspace so many times during his years in the Corps that he'd lost count after a hundred and fifty, but that was mostly due to him having been unconcious for a few. Who knew getting shot with a stun bolt designed for a wookie could knock a man out for a week straight?

As the ship landed, Merrt walked to the boarding ramp and waited for his erstwhile colleague to join him. When he finally did, he gave the man a nod, and stated what was on his mind. "You do know we'll have to get the supplies for the bombs and the 'poison' ourselves? I genuinely don't mind, I can rig up the smoke-bangs myself, but bying large supplies of laxatives and chemicals tend to stand out."

 

[MoreThanSane]

As soon as the ship's struts hit the duracrete, Aelianus made his way to the captain's quarters. There he changed into civilian clothes--simple pants, thin shirt, light coat, and hat--and dropped his usual assortment of gadgets and weapons into the pockets and slid his SE12 blaster pistol into its shoulder holster. Satisfied with the garb, he met Haas at the ramp.

He chuckled at the other's concerns. "What a lovely set of worries to have." The ramp lowered and Aelianus and Haas made their way to the ground. It was bright, sunny, warm. Any warmer and he would have to peel off his coat. "I'm sure we can arrange for a discreet purchase," he keyed the ramp back up.

There were a number of ways they could accomplish the purchases. The Alliance made sure their Infiltrators always had access to a credit line linked directly to 5th Regiment banking, so funds weren't a problem. The challenge would lie in attaining the supplies without piquing the interest of local authorities. He doubted any detective would be interested enough to actually piece together their plans, but he didn't want to take the chance of police breathing down their necks. Law enforcement had a tendency to be decidedly trigger-happy.

"I can work up a false holonet page for a mass beverage distributor, our number one product being stool-loosening tea. That should make things believable enough." The chemicals would be slightly harder, but he was sure that they could work them into their beverage distributor front. He plucked a pair of shades from his pocket and slid them on. "Thoughts?"

 

[Kiro]

Merrt observed Aelianus carefully as the younger man walked down the ramp and set foot on Pols Anaxes, the capitol city of Anaxes. He saw the way the man moved, and the way his clothes moved. Blaster, pistol. Shoulder holster. Concealed by coat. Draw time... 1.39 seconds, first shot fired 0.27 seconds later. He nods along with the Sergeant's comment regarding the laxatives, which was frankly the easiest to obtain. Though getting it inside the Academy would be trickier.

"I hope your blaster has a stun setting, my friend. I find it quite handy in case security or law enforcement should decide to open fire." Haas replied simply, bringing his jacket to such a position that his own guns were concealed, hands in a pair of deep pockets. "It's a good plan. Yet, I'd consider getting laxatives designed for livestock. It's far more potent, meaning we'll require less of it for the desired effect. Half a bottle, instead of four. Easier to get past security."

As the two walked down from the landing pad and into the grand, ancient, and surprisingly green, city, the elder smiles slightly and rubs his chin. "Actually, the chemicals needed to make smoke bombs are pretty common and ordinary. Several cleaning chemicals would fit the bill. The trick is making them mix at the right rate, at the right time, when you want them to."