Titan Ascending

[Tear]

The Interrogation room was large by design. The former Grand Inquisitor had made requests for ample room should unorthodox tactics be required with prisoners. While the room was clearly Imperial, every surface polished and pristine, it lacked the typical rule of function over form. The room was circular, perfectly so, the walls a dull grey baring no panels or access ports. The floor and ceiling were similar in that both were flush and flat. The entire ceiling gave off a diffuse glow, and the polished pearl floor reflected that light back.
This was again, by design, giving prisoners nothing for their eyes to rest upon. One could follow the grey walls that circled the room like an ouroboros, or trade glances between the floor and the ceiling. Inevitably the eyes would be led back to the only pieces of furniture in the room. A simple metallic table, or the torture bed itself.

Tear wanted them to see the table which was spaced a significant distance from the bed. The table had an impressive array of tools and instruments laid over it. While the torture bed was typical in its design, having numerous options for restraints and several attachment arrays that could be used on the prisoner seated in it.
From the seamless grey wall, pneumatic doors hissed open and a pair of black clad storm troopers entered the room. Between them, gripped by the arms, was a prisoner with a black hood over their head. The prisoner’s boots squealed over the pristine floor as they were dragged across the room. The bed was upright at first, forcing one trooper to hold the prisoner by the shoulders while the other tapped a panel on the side of the bed, allowing it to recline back. The prisoner’s wrists and ankles were then secured, and the black hood removed. A white sheet that was laid over the nearby metallic table was also collected before the troopers left.

Tear would enter the room some hours later. He stood at the doorway, his body clad in a black body suit, that sported simple red lines running inward from shoulders to chest. Around his neck was a high collared metallic grey gorget, sporting the Imperial emblem on the front. The prisoner’s sedatives had worked their way through her system hours ago and the pair instantly lock eyes.

Now you know, Tear thought to himself as he walked across the room. His footsteps the only sound to break the monotonous silence that had surrounded the prisoner since she had been strapped in. He continued toward the prisoner at a measured pace until he came within arm’s reach, instantly reaching out to clutch her by the jaw. Eyes wrapped in the power of the darkside stared into the prisoner’s light green, no words needed to be traded, they both knew why she was here.

As quickly as Tear’s hand had come against her, it was gone. He turned his back to her as he walked to the table. His hand instantly found an instrument, seemingly out of instinct, or perhaps repetition. His footsteps brought him back and the prisoner would feel the bed she was strapped onto begin to sink backwards.
Again, their eyes met. And again, no words were exchanged. The prisoner seemed defiant in the face of her consequences. Consequences that were now spreading her fingers apart as the tool in Tear’s had slid over her pointer finger and without much ceremony, lopped it cleanly from her hand. The pink digit fell with a spurt of blood over the pristine white flooring.

Now she would have something to look at.

In the hours that fed onward from the moment the prisoner lost her first finger, she would find her remaining digits also severed from her body. After each finger was cut, the prisoner would thrash against her restraints and paint Tear with ferocious eyes. She exuded rage as was expected. He could feel the pang of loss roll through her being. But there was also more. With each finger he took, Tear couldn’t help but taste the root of some deeper trauma that came bubbling to the prisoner’s surface. Never shown, always swallowed back down like bile at the back of her throat. Still, it made the Executor curious.

Her opposite hand would be flayed open next. A dissected path running up her forearm to her shoulder. In the open flesh of the prisoner, the former Grand Inquisitor would insert Kartassian glass needles into her nerve endings. Kartassian glass needles were organic creatures no thicker than pins. On their home world they were known for burrowing through their environment toward dense mineral deposits. They moved slowly through their surroundings, be it stone, dirt, or in this case, even flesh. They had the unique trait of traveling through anything at a very slow pace. Only millimeters in hours, but were always moving, always digging.

Tear absent mindedly brushed aside an errant blade of hair that had fallen into his eyes. His blonde hair, normally slicked back had become tussled with his work. Hands running over his scalp as he considered the next brush stroke in his art. The prisoner hadn’t broken yet. She had screamed, of course, grunted, spat, attempted to inflict any amount of damage when she thought it possible. Yet she didn’t say anything, and he didn’t ask.

It was only when he reached for her eye, with tool in hand did he finally notice the prisoner flinch. It was small. A crack.

It was enough.

“Good.” Tear spoke at last. “Now we can begin.”

[Nelaa Kyris]

Kyris had smelled trouble the moment she touched down on Imperial Center. Normally her trips back were brief and didn't include much in the way of interactions with other members of ImpIntel. Several times she'd managed to come in and file her reports and restock her ship while only having to deal with droids. This time, however, she arrived to find an agent waiting for her at the landing pad. It struck her as odd, and considering her recent activities, she almost decided to weigh anchor and make a run for it. She quickly dismissed the idea. If they suspected her of anything then there was zero chance that she would clear Coruscant's atmosphere without getting disabled and boarded, if not shot down completely. She took a few deep breaths and calmed herself. She'd done a good job of covering her tracks. They wouldn't take action until they were absolutely sure that Kyris had gone rogue, and any attempt at trying to slip away would only confirm any suspicions they may have had.

Also there was always the chance that they legitimately needed her for something.

The agent waiting for her was a younger male standing with a confidence that she could tell he didn't actually possess. He had the look of someone trying to act casual which normally had the effect of making one look less, well, casual.

He gave her a curt nod and asked, "Agent Kyris?"

She could tell he was putting a bit more bass in his voice than it naturally had. This is as close as this one will get to field work, she thought to herself.

"That's me." She let a hint of irritation and impatience drip over her words. "What can I do for you?"

He didn't physically back away from her, but some of the bass left his voice. "You've been requested in 3B6-12."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why?"

"I...I wasn't told..." He began to stammer a bit. The conversation had completely left the bounds of what he'd practiced in his head. If there was any information to be gleaned from his presence then this would be the moment that it would be revealed.

"Then its compartmented and you don't have clearance. Well and good. I know where 3B6 is, I can see myself there. Thank you." She was already walking away before he had time to react. In the back of her mind she thought, Let's see what you do...

His voice, having lost all it's feigned command, came out barely above a whisper behind her. "Uh, certainly. Good day."

She didn't bother to glance behind her, but she stepped quietly enough to listen for footsteps behind her. If they'd sent him to lead me to trap, then he would have been instructed to follow me and make sure I didn't slip away, she thought. It gave her a measure of comfort but she still found herself on edge as she made her way through the facility. 3B6-12 would be one of many secure compartmented information facilities, or SCIFs, scattered around Intel HQ. Most of the time it was a single room with soundproof walls and a single holo projector that wasn't connected to any sort of network. There were rumors that Esalis had every SCIF bugged but Kyris had always doubted it. Bugging a SCIF would compromise its function, and there wouldn't be any information shared inside of one that hadn't already come across the spy chief's desk anyways. Kyris found herself taking a pretty indirect route to get there. She actually approached the room one time then backed off and went another direction, coming up on the room from another side, checking to see if there were any people or droids lingering around the entrance. Finding none, she finally made her way to the entrance of the room. Inside there was an analyst waiting for her.

He stood as she walked in. "Agent Kyris, thank you for coming on such short notice. I know you have a busy schedule so I'll use as little of your time as possible." He gestured toward the projector in the middle of the room. "Shall we?"

She nodded her head. "Certainly."

There were red lights on each wall that switched to green as shut the door behind her, letting her know that the room was now secure. As this happened, the analyst stepped toward the center of the room and began speaking.

"I'll get right to it. There is a field agent that we believe may have gone rogue. I'm afraid it's someone you know, which is why we've brought you in."

As he spoke, she felt herself getting tense but couldn't quite pinpoint exactly what was causing it. She hid her discomfort behind a mask of formality. "Apologies, but I didn't get your name."

The analyst smiled. "Agent Kyris. You don't recognize me?"

His voice took on an air of menace, sending her into high alert. Every muscle in her body tensed at once, ready to spring into action. She studied the man before her without any attempt at masking her intensity. Their eyes locked but before she could say a word, a bright burst of light shot out of the holo projector, blinding both of them. It was followed immediately by a loud boom that left a loud ringing in her ears.

He knew it was coming and didn't even flinch. A million thoughts raced through her head, but this was the one that stuck out to her. Rather than staggering around while she waited on her vision to return she immediately dropped to the floor. There would be little she could do to stop what was coming next, and getting down while she still knew her position relative to the objects around her was the only way to make sure she didn't stumble and hit her head. After a few moments she felt hands grab her and pull her to her feet. She could tell they were armored. Probably a stormtrooper then. He'll be wearing a helmet. Go for the throat. She reached up, grabbed the hand on her shoulder and pulled the trooper forward while ducking under his arm and stepping behind him. She held onto his arm as she did, wrenching it up and behind him. As she wrenched his arm up with her left hand, her right arm swung around and caught him in a chokehold. He struggled to get loose, but she had him in a death grip. The odds weren't good that this was the only trooper they'd sent, but she was playing the cards she was dealt at this point.

As the troopers knees began to go weak, Kyris felt a stinging sensation on the back of her neck and a few moments later everything went black.

She awoke a few hours later to find herself strapped down to a table. At first all she could see was white and for a moment she thought that the flashbang from earlier was still affecting her vision. She quickly realized, however, that whatever sedative they had used on her was just causing her pupils to dilate more slowly. When her eyes finally came into focus it wasn't much of a change as she found herself staring at a white ceiling. Without being able to scan the room she couldn't really formulate an escape plan. Instead she went back over what had happened earlier, replaying the events in her mind, looking for a detail that might help to get her out of this mess. It wasn't long before she heard footsteps approaching. That's not Esalis, she thought. Her assessment was quickly confirmed as her captor stood over her. She didn't immediately recognize his face - she'd never met him in person - but the silver eyes gave it away.

Neither of them said a word.

The next few hours were a symphony of pain to a degree that Kyris couldn't even have imagined. He wasn't just skilled at inflicting pain, he did it in such a way as to subvert everything she knew about resisting torture. He left her little openings to lash out at him, letting her think that she may actually have a chance at fighting him off. There was never a point where she could sink into her own mind and try to separate herself from her body. He kept her present.

Pain is a function of the nerves. Pain is a function of the nerves... She repeated the lines over and over in her mind for the next few hours.

He gave her a moment's respite to catch her breath and for a split second she thought that he intended to take a break. She took a breath but the moment she let her guard down he turned and started moving toward her eye. She couldn't stop herself from flinching. Pain is a function of the nerves pain is a function of the nerves pain is a function of the nerves. The litany raced through her mind as quickly as it could form the words.

Then he backed away.

He spoke, but she barely registered the words. Several emotions ran through her at one time. To her shame, her first thought was to beg for mercy. She took a moment to catch her breath and gather herself. When she spoke, her voice came out ragged.

"Executor", she croaked. "Forgive me if I don't stand."

[Tear]

Tear’s face was blank, as if the agent’s deliberate attempt at humor had gone over his head. An awkward silence worked its way between them before the Executor’s features slowly crawled into a smile.

“Agent, is standing important to you?” The Executor stepped forward, a hand reaching back forcing a scalpel to leap from the table with the grip landing deftly onto his palm. His other hand was already reaching its way around Nelaa’s hips. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt. Tear’s touch was surprisingly soft with the pads of his fingers counting the bumps of her vertebrae.

The hand with the scalpel wound like a serpent, curling around her back to bite into the flesh of her back. The pain Nelaa would feel was short and brief. In fact, by the time Tear pulled away with the bloodied scalpel in hand, the pain would be gone. Instead, the Imperial Agent would find an absence of any feeling from her waist down. She could feel the warmth of her blood pooling beneath the small of her back, but no pain.

“Now...” Tear started, driving the scalpel into the agent’s thigh and releasing it like she was little more than a fleshy pencil holder. “Tell us what you’re here for.”

[Nelaa Kyris]

I'm dead.

As soon as she felt him counting vertebrae she knew exactly what was coming. For the briefest moment all the pain she was feeling stopped, masked by the wave of hopelessness that washed over her entire being. She didn't even feel the cut that severed her spinal cord. Her mind ran in several directions. Her avenues for escape were narrow enough considering the damage that had been done to her hand and arm. Without her legs escape was virtually impossible.

He's killed you. It's over.

There were now two routes in front of her: die sooner or die later. Give him what he wants, or hold out. It seemed like an easy choice at first. However, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't continue to torment her even after she gave him all the information he wanted. Also, if there were any small iota of hope in the galaxy of her escaping she would need allies and keeping those allies meant protecting them. This simplified things for her.

We're in for a long night...

She watched as he stuck the scalpel into her thigh. Even though she couldn't physically feel it, her mind filled in what it could. The shock of the phantom pain distracted her for a moment and she took a few seconds to register his question. She looked into his eyes for a moment then looked away, scanning the room as if she were seeing it again for the first time.

"I'm here..." She trailed off a bit, sounding defeated. It took real effort to put some steel back into her voice.

"I'm here because you have more spies in the Mandalore system than I realized."

[Tear]

Resilient, Tear thought to himself as another smile broke his lips. Smiling twice in succession was a rarity for the former Grand Inquisitor, but this Agent’s resolve had impressed him. That or he had lost his touch for this work.

“I told you she was a stubborn, silly, little girl.” A voice broke from behind Tear. It cracked with age but the sour tone would instantly wash through Kyris’s memory. The old woman stepped free from behind the Executor’s imposing frame. She was richly dressed. Her grey hair done up in several tight buns as was the Kuati style. Her neck was adorned with several layers of krayt pearls, and draped over her body was a thick surcoat, richly embroidered and tailing down around her feet in a pile.

“Never does what she’s told!” The old woman snapped, her wrist jingling with bangles as she jabbed an accusatory finger at Nelaa.

Tear turned as if he heard something, but when he did, the old woman was no longer there. Instead there was a holographic display that coalesced into a series of slowly scrolling records.

“Nelaa Kyris. Enlisted into Imperial armed forces on her 18^th birthday. Recruiter Notes: Kyris expresses passion to attend off world academies. Additional notes, petition from Kyris family estate to have their daughter’s application rejected.”
Application was in process of being rejected until test scores came back. Imperial Intelligence interjected and recruited Nelaa Kyris.”

Tear’s narration continued, but beyond the scrolling details of her record the shape of a man standing near the far wall could be seen.

“5’8.” The Executor’s voice brought Kyris’s attention back. “No discernable birthmarks. Several scars removed. Medical notes defensive pattern of scars on forearms and back.” Tear’s voice lingered on the last word, his dark eyes flicking to the prisoners before continuing once more.

“Imperial Intelligence physical training evaluation: Superb marks in hand to hand combat. Notes above average ability with bladed weapons.

Mental Acuity: Studious. High intelligence. Shows above average marks for problem solving.”

Another body stepped from Tear’s side. “We had such high hopes for you, didn’t we Nel?” The woman spoke, her hair was red, just like Kyris’s, but permed in flowing ringlets that ran down both her front and back. Her cheeks were a little fuller, her body more curvaceous, but to anyone in the same room as Kyris, it was plain to see that this was her mother. “Such high hopes, but you never do as your told. You never listen. Slipping passed the servants. Sneaking out of the house. Stealing. Such a disappointment.”

Kyris’s mother gave a come-hither gesture and the man standing in the back of the room came rushing forward. He stopped just short of Kyris his hand raised ready to deliver a hard backhand but stopped just short. “DO AS YOU’RE TOLD!” He screamed, spittle flying from his bottom lip.

“Excellence in subterfuge.” Once more Tear’s calm voice interjected, giving the others in the room pause. “Medical psychologist notes strong moral opposition to some mission parameters. Likely attributed to forced family values. Aversion to affluence.”

Tear flicked the hologram spanning the page to the bottom. “Mission Recommendations for Kyris Nelaa: Subterfuge and reconnaissance.

With continued success recruit Nelaa may be elected for strategic team lead positions.”

Something clattered off the floor. Tear crooked his neck to the side. One of the Kartassian Glass needles had burrowed its way through Kyris’s body, the table and was now righting itself to go through the floor.

The Executor went to the table and came back with a pair of pincers, delicately collecting the needle from the ground.

“Put it through her eye.” The grey-haired woman stepped back into the open, from where Kyris couldn’t be sure.

Tear gave the needle a look and then raised it directly above Kyris’s head. Several straps around the prisoner’s neck tightened, pulling her head back and her chin up. The tip of the needle eased down, pressing itself into Kyris’s pupil. Microscopic hooks sunk into the fibrous tunic of Kyris’s eye, peeling its way inward.
“Kyris.” Tear started, as the pincers came away, leaving the prisoners eye with the full weight of the burrowing needle. “Tell me what I need to know.”

[Nelaa Kyris]

The Executor's voice melted into the background, obscured by a fog that had overtaken Kyris' mind. She could plainly hear his voice but only as a blob of sounds with no words for her mind to seize on. Her whole universe became hazy and she felt herself slipping into a sweet numbness. Logical thought was still processing somewhere in the back of her mind, but it grew more and more quiet.

You're going into shock.

It took effort for her to recognize her own thoughts.

I'm going into shock. We won't be long now. She shook her head a little. Not we. Me. I'm slipping away...

For the briefest of moments she found herself at peace.

Stubborn, silly, little girl!

Kyris' eyes shot open and a burst of adrenaline hit her system. The voice was hers, but the words weren't.

Never does what she's told!

That time the voice in her own. In the background, the Executor droned on, still just a background track for her confusion. Her vision was out of focus, but as she turned her gaze toward the Executor, she could make out a familiar shape standing next to him. The woman at his side was out of focus, and Kyris felt like if she could just focus a little harder, her grandmother's features would take a clearer form.

"5'8""

The Executor's voice somehow broke through the fog of her mind, startling her. He started droning on again, but all she could focus on was the sight of her grandmother that was no longer there and the confusion that followed.

We had such high hopes for you, didn't we Nel?

Again, the voice in her head wasn't her own as her mother stepped into view. Kyris felt the beginnings of a panic attack coming on as the show played out before her. Somewhere in the back of her mind though, a thought rebelled against the rest of her mind and forced its way to the front.

You're hallucinating

She drew in a deep breath, and for a split second she had almost full control. She could still hear the Executor, and her family was still there, but her own thoughts were present as well.

He's doing this. It's a trick. He's pulling this out of your head. It was a thought with very sobering ramifications. He'll have everything he wants. It's only a matter of time...

It was at that point she heard her grandmother yell and she was snapped back to reality in time to feel her head being pulled back and her eye being held open. She couldn't tell what he was doing to her. She couldn't feel anything, but she knew it couldn't be good. A thought pushed into her mind, something she'd read when she was a little girl back on Kuat.

Sometimes greatest barrier to victory is not realizing you've been defeated.

"I found the group that attacked the Ord Trasi shipyards..."

[Tear]

“I found the group that attacked the Ord Trasi shipyards…”

Tear pulled in a breath and steadied his gaze on the operative. For hours he had been deconstructing Nelaa in both body and mind. Yet, even with her body failing, she would suck in a breath, refocus and steel her will, ready for more. She had done it again, just then, and Tear felt his finger twitch in irritation. Until she spoke. Her words sounded different this time. They sounded sincere.

“I know you did.” The Executor replied knowingly, his hand moving to steal back the Kartassian Glass needle from Nelaa’s eye. Instead he found himself flinching, the sound of flesh clapping flesh as the operatives Grand Mother slapped his hand away.

“She always had a smart mouth. Always playing games, even when she knew better.” The elderly woman wagged a finger at the Executor, who seemed suddenly aware of the presence of the family members. “She likes to spit in the eye of authority.”

Nelaa’s mother rounded from behind the Executor. “It was the Executor here. That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it Nel?”

[Nelaa Kyris]

"Mandalorian...off..."

Her eyes went glassy for a moment then refocused. She felt the universe starting to slip away from her. Her will was strong but her body was starting to fail her. The universe around her was going fuzzy and each word was taking gross chunks out of the little energy she still had left in reserve. It took great effort to keep from getting confused.

"Mandalorian...Off...Shoot..."

Her breathing became heavier as she found it was taking more air to satisfy her body's needs.

"Needed...Asset..."

Everything went black and she tried to shake her head, straining against her confines. Consciousness was becoming elusive.

"...Toxin?"

Just as she formed the word, a familiar smell hit her nostrils and she felt the warm dampness of new blood soaking her clothing as a large puddle of blood started oozing from the wound in her back.

"...oh..."

Her attention, at last, went to her mother. It was a cruel irony that the last person she'd ever want to see would be the last person she would literally ever see. She opened her mouth to speak once more and then drifted away.

[Tear]

“What is this?” The crooning face of Nelaa’s mother leaned into her daughters darkening frame of view. “Where do you think you are going?”

The slap echoed loud, and even though such a thing shouldn’t be enough to stem the tide of the Imperial Agents fading consciousness, it did.

“Is that it, little girl?” Her mother cupped the Agent’s face, squeezing her cheeks and lips. “Is that all you have?”

“Of course it is.” Nelaa’s Grand Mother stepped over the table, looking down. “She was always disappointing.”

Tear stepped forward, he eyed the matriarchal pair for a moment, before settling on Nelaa. “Asset. Toxin. Explain.”

[Nelaa Kyris]

A sharp pain cracked against her face and she felt energy surge through her body. The universe flew back into focus and once again she was staring at her mother and grandmother. I’ve died and gone to hell, she thought sardonically. She fixed her eyes on the Executor.

”I thought Ord Trasi was an Alliance hit. When I found out it was Mandalorian I saw an opportunity. Making an example of them would be wasteful.”

She shifted slightly. Even with the unnatural energy pulsing through her she felt dizzy and slightly disoriented. Whatever power was keeping her alive was unstable at best and she could feel her organs trying to shut down. She looked over toward her mother.

“I’m glad you’re not really here, I’d hate you for you to have the pleasure of watching me die.”

[Tear]

“Not actually here?” Nelaa’s mother scoffed, “Fool girl, what are you on about?”

Nelaa’s mother stepped in, her hand winding around to deliver another smack. Her wrist, however, was caught by the Executor. The aged woman yanked her hand away which jerked Tear’s torso forward. The pair exchanged challenging glares before the Executor returned his gaze back onto the Agent.

“Wasteful?” Tear questioned, giving his head a shake and refocusing, “So you took the opportunity to try and implicate me in Ord Trasi’s destruction?”

She was leaving something out. “This all sounds like a miscalculation on your part Agent Kyris. We both know you’re smarter than that.” The Executor inclined his head, reaching forward at the same time to tease free the Kartassian glass needle that was still attempting to burrow its way through Kyris’s eye. It resisted the pull, and Nelaa would feel her eye lift within its socket, tension building around the connective tissue until with a slip, the needle came free. The agent’s vision in that eye would go black however, clouding over with water and blood.

“You are sent to investigate. You discover a Mandalorian off shoot are behind its destruction. You implicated me. What piece of this puzzle are you leaving out? Why implicate me? On behalf of who? Was it Esalis? What toxin are you speaking of?”

[Nelaa Kyris]

Kyris lifted her head as much as she could as he pulled the needle from her eye. As she lost sight in the eye she actually felt her vision coming back into focus. Rather than trying to focus with an injured eye, she effectively had the injured eye closed. Though that helped somewhat with the dizziness, her head was still swimming a bit. Why is he on about a toxin? Is this another game? For a moment her mind wanted to wander off but she caught it and refocused, meeting his gaze once again.

"The Empire lacks creativity..." She started to trail off but felt a jolt in her head that brought her back. She wasn't sure if that jolt had come from her or her captor.

"Everyone wants to capture the people who hit Ord Trasi. Get a pat on the head." She drew in a deep breath and let out an exasperated sigh. "Wasteful."

She wet her lips and let out a shorter sigh. "The galaxy has changed. We need resources." She paused for a moment. "New resources. I know you see that."

She took a trembling breath. She could almost sense his anger as a tangible thing in the room. She let her eyes close for a moment but continued speaking.

"If someone else found the same trail that I found, they would find what I found. So I dropped some bread crumbs in another direction. Esalis is smart enough to abandon a trail with you sitting at the end of it..."

She opened her eyes once more and met the Executor's gaze. There was a hint of intensity within her creeping to the surface.

"...and if she isn't, her replacement would be."

[Tear]

Nelaa’s father had been standing near the back of the room. While her Mother and Grandmother circled and sniped, her father was an immovable shape, always stationary on the periphery of the Agent’s vision. When Nelaa began to explain her thoughts on the Empire and her ‘strategy’ in absconding with the Mandalorians, her father had disappeared.

His presence was replaced by the seething weight of the Executors building rage. A weight that was manifested as her Father stepped back into sight, jaw clenched, eyes wide, the man leaned forward. His hands reached for his daughter. As his fingers, trembling with undiluted anger, found Nelaa’s throat and began to squeeze, the agent finished her explanation and her father wilted back suddenly.

She had saved herself at the last moment, providing more context that peaked the Executor’s insatiable need to ‘know’.

“So tell me Agent. What creative plans do you have with these Mandalorians? What makes them so special?” It was the fixture behind Nelaa’s reasoning that Tear wanted to so badly to understand. The Imperial Agent had gone AWOL. Not only had she knowingly defied her original orders, she had also used the Executor in her ploy, risking the wrath of not only Esalis but himself.

Why were they so important?

[Nelaa Kyris]

Kyris took some time to gather her strength. It took all of her will to keep her failing body under control. Every breath she drew threatened to send her body in convulsions. When she finally spoke, her tone came out low and even, wasting no extra oxygen on emphasis.

"We can use them to stir up conflict between the Alliance and Mandalore. If we push them far enough, Mandalore can't survive an all out attack by the Alliance and it will give them incentive to move under our umbrella."

She took a few more breaths, this time much more strained.

"If they don't...They will fight...Alliance..."

She clenched her eyes shut and started sucking in deep gulps of air.

"Alliance...would be...vuln..."

Her last words were cut short as her body started to convulse. The last thing she saw was the cold eyes of the Executor as her universe went black.

[R. S. Esalis]

Darkness swallowed Nelaa Kyris. The warm metal against her back dissolved and she found herself falling through an abyss. Sightless and soundless, only her stomach gave her the nauseous hint of velocity.

With a gasp she would awaken. Soft blue light emitting from nearby panels illuminated her surroundings and Kyris recognized she was in a different room. One she found instantly familiar. She was sat in a simple chair, across from a plain black desk. The walls were framed with one-way mirrors. She was in one of the many briefing cells located at Intelligence headquarters. Kyris would sense the footsteps of a technician approaching from her side. He reached out and dexterously peeled a synaptic simulator from her temple. The technician stepped back.

Standing just a few feet away was R.S Esalis, her hands clasped neatly at the small of her back. The Director would remain silent for a moment, giving Kyris a moment to realize what was happening, or at least wrestle with the concept of what could be happening.

“Interesting story.” She said at last. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to change?”

[Nelaa Kyris]

Kyris shook her head. Whatever drugs they had given her were still swimming around in her system and it was difficult to gather her thoughts. Her pupils were still dilated and it was difficult to see. It was only then she became aware of the fact that she could move. She could feel her toes again. She looked down at her hands which were both uninjured. She was still sore though, and confused.

"Director" She looked around the room, still squinting at the light. "It's been awhile..."

She chose to ignore the question. With everything that had just happened she couldn't trust her own senses. Her eyes refused to adjust to the hard white light of the room which added an edge of irritation to her voice.

"...since Carida? Right?"