"Identify verified. Stay on course, Ruby Wolf. Hangar South X9 prepared for landing," the clipped imperial's voice came through the speaker after the usual pause of clearance procedures.

"Copy that," Baska replied before ending the communication. With a steel hand, she maneuvered her ship towards the assigned destination, fairly unfazed by the impressive presence the Imperial Destroyer Scythe presented in the vastness of space.

She wouldn't go as far as calling this trip a habit over the past tumultuous year but it wasn't the first time she traveled there, and while she wasn't sure of the turnover of communication officers on the bridge, she had dealt with at least a couple different imperials there and she knew how her presence could be disturbing to some. She liked that to be bluntly honest, and regardless of their reaction, she didn't come to the Scythe to make anyone comfortable. She always came here on a mission. Nobody besides the Admiral knew that she was now mandated by the Empress herself as her Hand, the others simply believing her to be some eccentric outlaw with stellar skills that made her the perfect freelancer the Admiral hired every once in a while. It was not a first that certain imperials dealt with the underworld's greatest professionals and if Bismarck was known for one thing it was his understanding of hard work and skills.

She saw the squad of storm troopers awaiting her in the landing bay. It didn't take her long to disembark after powering her ship down, for she didn't know how long it would take before she departed again, with her unexpected cargo. While she cared not, and might even enjoy, how she unsettled some of them, she had no reason to be a pest. Not only was she above that; but she had chosen this path, to serve the Empire because of people who had earned her loyalty when her life had gone upside down and back from hell again. She had survived many ordeals and was not scared of rising from ashes all over again and entering the Empress's service was such an opportunity. And she would not forget what Bismarck had done for her as well after their paths had had but little reason to cross after their first encounter.

As much as Baska appreciated how the Empire was straightforward about what they stood for while the Alliance remained fairly delusional in their savior complex, it took specific individual for Baska to pledge any sort of allegiance; but she had done it, something she had carefully considered but felt in her bones was the right choice, even when it meant that her beloved daughter now safe and alive would be on the other side of a Cold War that always threatened to tear the galaxy apart again on a large scale, for no territories this vast could be truly at peace. Conflicts always occurred, blood was always shed, the food chain always prevailed. It was all a matter of scale.

She let the storm troopers fall into their well-cadenced formation, knowing full well that her black and purple attire would draw its usual attention, as well as the two custom-made knives she was permitted to carry even aboard the Scythe. Last time she had stepped aboard, there had been three; but she had left her daughter with a few farewell gifts when leaving her on Bellataine, and one of them had been one of the knives that were a gift from Heyrina's father. It seemed only fitting that their daughter would keep one of the weapons.

The maze of hallways and elevators were foreign no more to the Sith. Besides always learning new territories, she had made sure to learn a lot about the Empire since becoming Miranda Tarkin's Hand. With her high level clearance, she had access to a lot of information and being a voracious learner, she had dedicated a lot of time in between her missions and mentoring the Empress, to learn as much as she could about her new role and what it could entail. While she was aware that her rare skills were tremendous assets by themselves, she understood how important lifelong learning was not only for survival but also for optimal efficiency and quick thinking.

When they reached the bridge, she could feel the change in the atmosphere although her facial expression remained impassible. Her Force abilities remained cloaked away from most imperials, just as her true role was a shadow, a whisper on some lips. She reveled in being anchored in figment of imagination and a potential nightmare to those unworthy. Sometimes the tales let reality follow its course with fewer disturbances.

The storm troopers fanned out and eventually let her step forward, which she did without hesitation. As she came to a halt, she laced her hands before her, a slight bow of her head a token of respect for the man who had become an unexpected ally. She had only ever knelt before their Empress since the days of her Sith training.

"Admiral."