Imperial Security Bureau Central Office, Coruscant
Isard's Last Hope
"We're approaching ISB Head Quarters Director" A scarlet-clad trooper's metallic voice filtered across the cockpit of the imperial shuttle, one of the hundreds that glided through the indigo-colored skies of the greatest city ever built. A city founded by explorers, independent thinkers, men and women of conviction, of breeding. It rose out of the grounds of a savage world filled with the mindless primitives whom the Mandalorian filth claimed as their spiritual progenitors. In time, twelve tribes of men overthrew those vile thugs and established the world's first city, a jewel in a land of vermin. From that august acropolis came the Galaxy's first ecumenopolis, the world city.
The Bright Jewel, the cradle of Civilization.
Of human civilization.
Which was the problem, Ysanne Isard decided. Oh she'd taken pleasure in watching another woman knock over all the fatuous, vacant and pathetic. The worthless thugs who believed their graft and brinkmanship and petty lobbying for posts, commissions and ultimately moffdom made them powerful. It was nice to see them done in by one they demeaned so. But she was the wrong one, a non human, an alien, the Xeno, a Jedi no less! A traitor by association even if she'd passed into her long sleep before Jedi treachery abounded. But it made her no less guilty, no less foul and no less unworthy.
She was planning something too, oh sure there was the great campaign, a meaningless waste of resources to achieve a pointless symbolic victory to avenge a man she very clearly reviled (Isard was there when an adept compared her to Palpatine several days after her awakening. She ripped his spine out of his back with the force in one of the most grotesque displays of indignation she'd ever seen). No, though Isard ran the arguments the snake would likely make to justify the expedition through her head she couldn't quite figure out what the real reasons were. There was something else being planned, something nigh on unthinkable.
-I will determine what- she thought,
But divining the riddles of a maniac wasn't her purpose today so much as trying to reach another lunatic. A vile, disgusting Cervid descended upjumped piece of venison that she should have had served up on a platter or rendered into jerky long ago. Bothan filth! She hated them, oh how she remembered her youth, during the clone wars when her father constantly had to fend off the ambitious degenerates from a species of liars, spies, traffickers and informants. Bothan honor! Fah! She knew the moment he assumed any power in ISB that Blackhole was either completely senile or dead for allowing it to happen at all. His arrogant gibbering at the meeting only proved her right.
Carvin's dismissal rang in her ears as the shuttle landed on one of the docking platforms that flanked ISB headquarters and Isard rose, her heterochromatic hair fluttering in the city wind, a storm was brewing again. Whoever was manning the weather controls needed to be shot, this was the second day in a row and she made a mental note to fabricate a treason charge on the man later.
A woman's place was on her back or in the kitchen. -and your place belongs mounted on my wall right beside the inhuman scum running ISB!- she thought, bitterness exuding from her being and a deepening feeling of resentment mounting. Why was the Bothan seen as "a regrettable necessity" while she was dismissed? She was far more vital than that prancing hornless cuckold. She would show him that one day, that was the promise she'd made before she stormed into her shuttle to make the trek here.
she would show him
But for now, she needed him.
Without the willing support of the others, she needed help forcing them to support her bid for power against the "Pontifex Invictus". While her domain was foreign spies, the wars and the wider Galaxy it was always ISB that amassed the blackmail dossiers and purple files.
Black clad shadow Troopers moved to obstruct her, Isard stormed passed them and ordered her men to stun them for their impudence. She would not be denied by a Bothan...Not today.
Isard's march throughout the facility was unimpeded for the most part. Raveem's new Shadow Troopers had seemingly gotten the memo to stay away from her. The Bothan had set up a new office space at the very top of the building. Unfortunately for Isard, the elevators were out of service. Even if she demanded to be let into one of the lifts, the technicians working on them refused to. The Imperial Intelligence Director was forced to take the stairs or leave. Over the next half hour, Isard had to climb over a thousand steps to get to the 115th floor of the building where Raveem had built a new office. When she arrived, she was greeted by a great hall adorned with purple banners alongside the flags of the Galactic Empire. In the center was a desk with a protocl droid sitting behind the desk.
"Welcome, Director Isard." The droid said, standing up with a pad in its hand. Its personality module had been replaced with a feminine one and it had been colored silver over the usual Imperial black. "Do you have an appointment?"
"I breathe you spark-less appliance" Isard's voice brimmed with venom, it was bad enough those slime descended Gammorian brained simpletons hadn't finished their work during the hours that the Directors were traditionally "off duty" (Though, the one she would grudgingly admit was that neither she nor the Bothan were ever truly off duty) but now this, convenience item was daring to hold the director of the I.I to the standards of a mere moff? The lack of professional courtesy was infuriating, curse this fiasco. "Now stand aside or my crimson guard will turn you into scrap and set fire to this shallow excuse for a reception room!"
The Coup Raveem had engineered was alarming, it had come almost out of nowhere, organized on a whim months prior when the ISB director realized who the woman was that had been discovered in the stasis pod. -He'd been one the first to realize it too and the first to acquire a strand of hair for genetic testing- She thought bitterly, the eagerness had been dismissed at the time as obvious, common sense measures. But, it seemed odd, almost as if he was an excited child discovering a missing piece or a puzzle. The alternative was that he'd organized the little overthrow on a whim mere days before it happened and that was a possibility she couldn't allow herself to contemplate.
to her left, a transparasteel window's blinds began to flicker close as the solar cycle for this part of the planet entered its mid day phase and the light beaming through began to intensify, matching the fury threatening to boil over within director Isard's atrophied heart. no, she thought, you need to measure yourself. Bravado wasn't going to work with the alien, it had barely worked on her own peers. "that is to say, the Director of Imperial Intelligence has to speak to the director of the Security Bureau on an urgent matter of planetary security and it cannot wait". As if the Emphasize her point, two of her guards stepped forward.
"Ah. Yes, you do have an appointment. Excuse my ignorance. Please, this way."
The protocol droid led Isard and her escorts into the large office beyond. Going through a pair of glass doors, Isard and her guard were greeted by an empty office. When the protoco droid turned to apologize, Raveem emerged from a side door to Isard's left flank. For a moment be stared at her and then to her guards, like a child having been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Slowly, he reached for crotch area and zipped up his black ISB uniform trousers before crossing the room, still keeping his eyes on Isard and stopping at a mini bar. There, he washed his hands on a small basin and dried them with a towel. Finally, he turned to them properly.
"TC?"
The droid turned his head toward the Director, "Yes, sir?"
"I thought I said that you needed to stall her?" He said casually, as if Isard wasn't even standing right across from him. "You know what that means, right?"
"My apologies sir, but the Director insisted that this was a top security matter."
Raveem sighed. It was like he was speaking to an innocent child. Poor thing.
"Of course. Go on then, before she shoots you."
Raveem then walked over to his desk and sat down as the protocol droid shuffled away back to its desk, leaving Raveem alone with Isard and her escort.
"Ysanne Isard!" He exclaimed, raising his hands in the air before putting them back together in front of him, interlocking his fingers. "We meet at last. I may be a little late, but, my condolonces for your father. He will be dearly missed..."
"And here I thought you found religion" Isard remarked an eyebrow raised and her tone dismissively chiding. Doing her best to keep her expression a wry smirk, doing her best to keep her body from lurching as the mental image of a Bothan pleasuring himself continued to assault her mind like a Hutt at an all you can eat buffet. -This is what the Empire is reduced too...dependency upon this..thing- Was he Blackhole's creature? Or had the mad sorcerer gone so crazy he allowed this pathetic creature to amass the power he amassed solely out of a sense of amusement? There was discrepancy after all...And both of them shared madness. as their defining trait.
When he began to bring up her father, the woman had to redouble her efforts, her nostrils flaring for the briefest of seconds before she calmed her fury. "My..Father" she began slowly, was none of your business you filthy moose! "My father always considered the Bothans to be..worthy rivals" she spoke the last part as if she was being forced to digest something foul. "I must...congratulate you. A rising star in Imperial intelligence, non human and from a species stubbornly attached to those damnable rebels" Her posture began to twitch, doing her best to remain rigid she walked towards one of the windows, gazing out at the bustling traffic. Corsec security speeders buzzed towards what looked like the palace district. -Another riot- she thought, likely followers of this week old religion kicking around adherents to the old way. the so called "corrupt" as if their monstrous master was any better.
"I'm curious, my dossier on you suggests you remained on the sidelines, the ascent of your career has been one of maneuvers and feints and counter feints in the dark" She turned back towards him, allowing the sun to flow around her crimson uniform. Doing her best to emulate the body language of that Jedi witch and failing.
"So when I heard you stood side by side this..Pontifex Invictus" she spat the words out contemptuously "As she slaughters a Grand Vizier by animating his own throne, in public, before witnesses..as she butchers Grand Admirals and Moffs on a whim, you support such loudness?!" His eyes narrowed, feigning concern.
"Why would you risk yourself in such a way?" Why would you so foolishly support such an insane, unsubtle and violent monster...Though words died in her throat though, even if her eyes conveyed it.
The Bothan giggled as be turned his chaid to face Isard. What a hideous sight, he thought. She was a pretender. Hiding her true emotions under a half-shattered mask. With some prying and prodding, he knew he could break it into pieces. He wanted to see the starving rancor within her. But not yet. He would save that delicious entertainment for later. The Bothan leaned in on one elbow against his desk, taking in the full disgusting sight of the female human.
"You're so fascinating, Director Isard..." He said softly, his eyes fixating on her heterochromic orbs. She hated him. It was taking a lot for her to come in here and even speak to him. "I admire your commitment to whatever it is you are fighting for." Raveem leaned away from the table, switching poses. "I mean, you are fighting for yourself. But, let's be idealistic here. I do love to pretend. Don't you?"
Isard couldn't read his eyes. It was like he was in another world. Did he consume death sticks or some other drug? It certainly looked like it. She could barely read his expressions.
Ysanne Isard remained silent, her heterochromatic eyes narrowing at the presumptuous Xeno. She couldn't fully read the flickering of his eyes, she couldn't make sense of his body language. What made it even worse was his fur's lack of alteration, she knew he was engaging in deception and yet the Bothan trait of their coats shifting as they lied (Which was a bizarre trait to possess for a race of spymasters and politicians, begrudgingly she recognized it was a testament of their skill in the art of passing poodu off as shimmer silk). -Chaos take him! Is he so mad that he believes anything he says? Or has he persuaded himself that dishonesty for a greater truth is honesty?- Oh, how she hated this creature. When he began to speak the hollowness of his platitude belied the insult within and Isard laughed "Truly Bothan, are we not soldier's of the Empire?" She asked rhetorically, as if that fact justified everything, every moment of duplicity, every self centered and heedless decision that the council had made that cost them parsec after parsec to an advancing Rebel militia. Speeders slowed to a hovering stop as the mid day rush back from lunch to work began in earnest. "Everyone is in it for his or herself, even your precious Jedi. Or do you really think her spiel about "Creating a new order to spread civilization and Imperial justice across the stars" is truly altruistic quest?"
He couldn't be that simple and she couldn't be that fanatical. No one, not even the Jedi she knew as a child were that zealous, that insane. They had long ago abandoned serving the force, they served the corruption of the Republic.
And even then, they served it to perpetuate their own misguided faith. "She sneers and call us vermin, she demeans and mocks the Emperor's legacy while inserting herself into our path! The hypocrisy should be obvious even to you...Director Vash'Ah"
The Bothan raised a finger in the air as he stood up, seemingly telling her to stop talking. He fixed his eyes on of her bodyguards and walked toward him in silence even when he gestured like he was about to say something. That silence continued as he comically shuffled over to the crimson stormtrooper and then walked over to the other in a sorry imitation of a goose-step march.
"Do you hear that, Director?" Raveem exclaimed, standing face to face with the stormtrooper while raising the same digit again. What was he on about? "It sounds like..." The Bothan turned on his heels, keeping to the mockery of Imperial military march protocol "What does it sound like? You tell me."
It sounds like he hadn't heard anything she said. Was he ignoring her? Or did her simply not understand. No way. Someone so... stupid couldn't have gone this far. He was playing games with her, but knowing that was pointless. It was the purpose of this madness that eluded her.
Ysanne Isard was at the point now where she'd have ordered him flayed alive, stuffed in a bacta tank and then flayed akin as soon as his skin regenerated sufficiently. Her whole body heaven in place, her wrist twitching as she did her best to remain calm, mismatched eyes blazed like the fire at the center of a hypmatter reactor. When he rose and began to shuffle, one of the guards instinctively leveled his blaster only to stare in confusion as he began to effect a Storm Trooper marching cadence in as over the top a manner as possible. -Is this fool mocking me by acting like a preening invalid?- for a moment bafflement superseded fury and she gazed in stunned silence at the figure before her. No, this wasn't an invalid, it couldn't be...He had to be something else. Insane perhaps, an idiot savant? Outside, she could hear the traffic pick up, large caravans of speeders were heading to the old presidential palace...to supplicate themselves before some damned Alien witch. "I hear the voice of a malicious harpie, a woman whose time came and went over a thousand years before we were born. A relic from a war whose main objective was the extermination of everything the founder of Empire believed in. I hear her malignant laughter as she cuckolds us into becoming a mockery of all that we are!" Isard hissed, her eyes flaring with hatred. This woman was a usurper, the throne was hers! Not that Jedi harpie, not that maniac wizard, Blackhole and not this stunted Bothan...her eyes widened, of course.
This uplifted Moose believed he would have a place beside her when she stole the Empire? Isard almost laughed. "she is diverting almost our entire construction fleet, our repair vessels and the one mobile space port we still possess...reactor fuel, provisions, Tebana gas...burning through billions of credits to requisition civilian liners" Her eyes narrowed.
"Do you not see what she's doing? Do you think she'll extend to treatment that's any different? Fool, your death coils in that palace! hissing poison meant for you as well as us!"
The Bothan smiled. A smile that would perhaps send shivers down the spine of any normal being. For Isard, it would have just confirmed her suspicions that Raveem was beyond insane. Those thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the Bothan making an obnoxious noise that sounded less like a buzzer and more like a Bantha mating call.
"Wrong again!" He exclaimed, as he spun around to face the crimson soldier behind him. Raveem's head tilted to the side as he inspected the stormtrooper with a dissaproving look.
"I always hated this red color..." The Bothan said softly as he extended one arm toward the other crimson soldier, who turned his head to stare at him in confusion. From the Bothan's sleeve shot out two large darts that flew across the room and hit the trooper in the chest. Panicking he dropped his weapon, reaching for his chest. But by then, it was too late. His armored chest exploded into a mess of pieces of armor, blood and bones. It instantly killed him. The other went to strike Raveem with the butt of his weapon, but the Bothan seemed to be one step ahead. With a single move, he dodged the attack and grabbed the soldiers baton from his utility belt. Raveem then stunned him using tje weapon making the stormtrooper fall to the floor. Now stunned, the Bothan crawled on top of the soldier removing his helmet.
"I. Always. Hated. The. Red Color!!!" Raveem shouted as he disfugured the man with every strike, staining both his white tunic and the floor in blood. Clearing his throat, he tossed the baton aside and fixed his blood stained uniform.
"I'm bored." Raverm exclaimed, panting. "So let's get to the topic at hand. Desperation. Yes. That is what I am hearing. And what you should be hearing too."
There were very few beings in the whole of the known universe who could be said to have intimidated the Spymaster, heiress of a family of Spy masters. ISB director Raveem was not one of them, even as the guards torso exploded the woman remained without fear, but something did change in her eyes. She'd ignored the Bothan before, dismissed him as an upjumped Xeno scum, an essential member of the intelligence community that she had to grudgingly endure. But now, as the slaughtered her men and defaced the cadaver of one, howling about his dislike of the color of her uniform Isard's dismissal and contempt was replaced with hatred and disgust.
"Desperate?!" The woman roared storming forward, her own madness and rage overriding sense. "you stupid provincial little animal! You evolved prey! Which one of us is desperate you buffoon? Who butchers my men to sate a fit if pique? You idiot, you brain blasted rancid piece of Dantooine venison. You disgrace your own office acting like a thug" she spat the last part out and waved a hand dismissively "And to think Blackhole allowed someone like you to occupy one of the positions he previously held. He must have been spiced out of his mind!" Her voice waivered, adrenaline surging as she reached for her own gun only to stop herself.
No, I'm not a savage, not like this one. "Get it through your head animal that woman doesn't care about you, she doesn't mocks the Emperor we both served and takes pleasure in killing or converting his surviving acolytes! She wants to burn the Galaxy! Don't you see?! The ships she's requisitioning, the orders Hissa is giving out..DON'T YOU SEE FOOL??!"
Isard took a breath "No of course you don't see, I walked in on you twitching that little piece of Tatooine turnip your sad species calls genitalia, no doubt to her image. You're no different than Plumba or Pestage, if a pair of twits waves their hand in front of you and asks to jump you bow and ask the lady how high! Focus you dimwitted lunatic, focus for once! See the era she is creating over our bones!"
Raveem stared at her rant for over a minute with a baffled look on his face. Either he was feigning confusion or he was genuinely surprised by her suddenly breaking down. She couldn't tell. However, he had been planning to set her off from the beggining and his little show certaintly helped. He thought this would be entertaining, but he was bored out of his mind. Though, in the middle of that, he also found the whole situation funny, even if it isn't what he was expecting. As she finished, the Bothan burst out laughing. A cackle that echoed across the room as he walked back to his desk, holding his stomach as a cramp started to form by the mouth of his stomach. Hunched over, his laughter started to subside. The Bothan took a deep breath and straightened himself. Sighing he walked over behind his desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a fresh white tunic from it.
"Somehow..." He began, as he unzipped the bloodstained ISB tunic and began to take it off, revealing a white sleveless shirt underneath. "I thought that you would be more... creative. Someone who truly 'knew, knew'. But now I realize that you are just painfully average." Putting on the tunic, he proceedes to slowly add his rank plaque and code cylinders. He was very meticulous about it. Ensuring that everything was correctly in place.
"I thought that your odd appearance would perhaps also include some out of the box thinking."
He paused, as he threw the bloodied tunic on the ground and fixed the one he was wearing now. "Something to complement it. Thought I admit..." Raveem sentences seemed unconnected and incoherent. Like he was rambling. But Isard should know better than to trust that. "You are rather amusing."
The Bothan never adressed her comments. Not even once.
"Does it hurt?" Raveem asked at the very end. Once again saying something totally unconnected from the rest of what he said earlier.
Again Director Isard remained leveled, gazing at the maniac that stood before her. The fact that he seriously began to undress before her, caused her heterochromatic eyes to narrow and her hand to reach again for her blaster. "What are you doing, you disgusting creature?!" She snapped "Are you even listening?! Do you think the female you're fawning over sees you as anything other than a beast of burden?! What do you think will come of the Empire with her sharing power?!" Again she came close to howling the last bit out only to stop herself and gawk in amazement when the Bothan asked her if it hurt.
"Hurt? Does what hurt fool?! What are you talking about?!" She blurted out, confused by the trajectory of the conversation.
"Killing your father." He said, his facial expression losing that manic look he had earlier. For a minute, the beast could have passed as normal. "I have it on good authority that... you killed him yourself." Raveem glanced down at his desk, neatly folding the bloodstained tunic before setting it down on top of the desk again. "Of course, he did send you off to your own death. But I am curious. Did you feel anything?"
Success... Raveem though as he looked at Isard up and down. He had more than broken her mask. The Bothan had shattered it, and was underneath was exactly what he had been expecting. Everything was going smoothly.
"wh.." Ysanne Isard's face lost all color as the full weight of the realization dawned on her. Vash'Ah indeed, she thought, those eyes, those mad eyes see everything don't they? Behind her, two service droids hastily entered and began to extract the corpses and Isard merely stood there in startled silence unable to fully comprehend how badly she'd underestimated him.
She stepped forward, out the window several speeders filled with freighter captains were taking off towards a party district, likely in celebration of the new contracts they'd just gotten from the Imperial Navy's office of logistics. "killing my father" She began stepping closer towards the Bothan "Was destiny, as a member of a prominent Bothan clan I'd assume you understand the weight of filial duty yes? My bloodline was in the wrong hands, it needed to be...liberated'
Isard turned and walked towards the window, deflated perhaps but no less filled with hatred. "You continue to avoid my questions Bothan, are you concerned? Are you afraid that pointing such powerful insights inward and toward your beloved religious leader will result in unpleasant answers to questions you dare not ask? hmm? Is that it?"
"Because you keep asking the wrong questions."
He said, his head slowly turning toward her again. With a measured deliberate pace, Raveem began to walk toward her. "I thought you would have figured it by now Director!" The Bothan exclaimed, throwing his hands to the sides "I'll just tell you. I was the one who brought her to that meeting. The one who enabled Invictus Janus to cleanse the Empire of the the corrupt and incompetent leadership." A wicked grin began to grow on his lips as he got closer and closer to Isard. "But I am beyond that kind ideological zealotry. It doesn't interest me. No... no... It was the unknown variable that Miryia Janus, was! It was an experiment. A gamble. Roll the dice and see the Galaxy plunged into chaos or be driven to order. And it paid off."
The way the Bothan stood side-by-side to the window, made the dim lights of the office obscure the side of his face. It made him look feral, ominous and to the faint of heart, terrifying. It looked unintentional, however. An accidental trick of the light marking an otherwise benign moment.
"I know why you're here." Said Raveem, as he got closer. "You are here because the others will not listen. Hissa, Carvin, Palleon, Grant..." The Bothan looked at Isard straight in the eyes as he uttered the last name. "Plumba. Ysanne Isard came to me because I am her last resort. The last person you would ever consider begging for help to stage your coup..."
A cold chill ran down the imperial intelligence director's spine, as the mad Bothan confessed his treason with a look of pure joy! Around him the shadows seemed to dance as he began to speak proudly of his grand quest for order from chaos by tossing a violently unstable variable into an already violent mess! The careless idiot could have destroyed the empire, no, he wasn't careless. In his perverse mind that probably would have been a good thing and slowly, humiliation, shame and a tiny bit of fear intermarried with her rage.
"You did this...you brought this down on us?" She let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and reached up to dust at her shoulder, doing her best to remove some debris and bone matter from the fabric of her uniform. As she shadows continued to reveal the extent of his knowledge slowly shook her head. "The fat one" she muttered it with a curse, she would kill Plumba for this treachery.
"Paid off? Hah, I suppose you think so, but I must ask you Director Raveem" she emphasized the last bit, holding onto the ceremony of rank, the head of I.I still outranked the ISB chief if only on paper. "Can you honestly say, she won't decide that you're too wild, ungovernable and sinful live in her new era?" It was her last line of defense, a desperate plea and she knew very well it wouldn't be enough to sway him but if she could turn him to the path of suspicion just a little.
"You're so amusingly strange Director..." He said softly, his head turning to look out the window. Raveem turned completely to face the window, looking at Isard through the reflection. The Bothan stood there silent, looking at himself on the window with a blank look on his face.
"My father used to tell me, 'You don't have to turn people in your favor. Just sow enough dissent and suspicion to cause chaos in their lines.'" Raveem then turned to face Isard again, a big smile on his face. "Was it your instructor? Your father too, perhaps? It's a good strategy to use if you face a grunt or a politician. But in this instance... it only makes you look desperate."
He didn't have to adress the rest. Raveem was goal driven. Everything served a purpose. To the lighting of the room, to his body movements, to the tone of his voice. He knew Isard was too stupid to realize she had walked into a situation she couldn't control. That she was being guided toward something without her knowledge.
Isard slowly nodded her head at his estimation of the tactic she was using, the look on her face was someone thoroughly defeated yet filled with new resolve. She'd cornered him, humiliated her, reminded her of why he was the only non human to ever reach the position of ISB director.
The discussion about her father only served to dig deeper into the wound and fill her with a madness comparable that of her own enemies. -Alright then- Ysanne Isard began to head towards the exist of the Bothan's office before turning around and gazing into his eyes with a frenzied intensity. "You've succeeded in chastening me Director Vash'Ah, my compliments to you even my father never..evoked..such feelings in me...I promise you, one day, soon I'm going to visit them back on you by an order of...magnitude" The last part was hissed out venomously enough she looked like some crazed predator backed into a corner ready to chew its own leg off to escape. "I promise you that"
The doors opened, whether by her proximity or by the Bothans will, Isard couldn't tell but she'd felt small, like a little girl again before her father's harsh judgments. She felt weak, scared, she felt battered and she was going to skin him alive in a pain web for that, slowly with enough bacta and med droids nearby to ensure this damn thing endured the horror.
"Good day, ISB Director. History won't be able to say I didn't offer you a chance to turn back. History won't say anything about you at all when I'm done with you"
When Director Isard left his office, Vas'ah had his protocol droid seal the door to his office, darken the windows and dim the lights. Sitting down in his desk, he pressed a button and from the desk emerged the holographic bust of an Imperial ISB officer.
"Director Vas'ah." The hologram flickered as Major Oniye Namada stood at attention the moment she saw the Bothan.
"Report." Said Raveem, as a grin formed around the edges of his mouth. The Major would never get used to the Director-Generals eyes... or his general disposition. There was something
off about it. Regardless of what she thought of the Bothan, Namada was loyal to the Empire and even more loyal to Vas'ah. He had worked hard to get to that position and issued a promotion to her the moment he became Director-General. The Bothan was seemingly the only one who recognized her talents. While others worked to undermine her work against corruption in the ranks, Raveem gave her more authority and oversight to combat it. For once, she thought, they had a leader who truly cared.
"All agents in Bothawui were killed-in-action, sir. According to Agent Gideon Hask who was in command, the operatives were intercepted by New Republic pilots. While they were successful in their retrieval of the chip, the interferance of the Rebels and subsequent intervention of Bothan security forces prevented proper retrieval." The Major sent a copy of the report she had compiled of the mission. The whole debacle in Bothawui was an embarassment, not only to Agent Hask but to her as well. However, she was ready to accept responsibility for her actions. Or more accurately, lack thereof. Giving the mission to Agent Hask was perhaps a mistake. Something to be rectified later.
"Sir. I accept full responsibility for-"
Raveem raised his hand as he continued to read the report on a datapad in his hand. "One moment, please..."
Major Namada sat there, waiting for the Bothan to finish. One thing she had learned while working for him over the past three years was that he was unpredictable. Nobody, not even the best agents in the Bureau could tell what the man was thinking or what he would do next. While many of the Directors who came beforehand followed protocol, Raveem was someone who thought outside the box. She couldn't recall a single instance where the Bothan actually did anything by the book. Every mission agents were assigned to seemed to have no rhyme or reason. Yet, somehow, they always yielded results.
"You didn't add this part about Senator Fey'lya being there as some sort of joke, right? Was he actually there?" Raveem asked, looking up to meet the Major's now confused gaze. "
"Yes, sir. All the information there is accurate. I went over every account three times." Replied the Major, shifting in her seat.
"And you are sure that he took the chip?" Raveem seemed to be getting more excited by the minute. She could see it in his eyes, the way his right ear twitched and his fur seemed to rise up. At least that, she could read.
"Y-yes." Had she missed something? Abruptly, the Bothan stood up from his chair tossing the datapad over his shoulder.
"Then, mission accomplished Major!" Raveem shouted with a big smile on his face. "You did well. Make sure to give Agent Hask my compliments.
"I don't understand..." Again, Namada was at a loss for words. Had he seen something that she had missed? Most likely. It seemed to be his specialty.
"You will, trust me." Raveem was about to run off without hanging up, before he returned into view again. "Oh, and don't forget to look into that
other matter for me. I want to know where Zsinj's very special
item ended up."
"Yes-" Before Namada could reply the Bothan ran off. "sir..." She finished off with a sigh. Perhaps Namada would never know how the Director "functioned". He was wild and spontaneous, yet somehow professional and incredibly intelligent. Perhaps it was best she never know.
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