So far, what Krennic had seen of Lothal was hardly impressive. The planet was more than what it seemed, though. He knew deep beneath the surface ran veins of kyber crystals desperately needed to finish the research for Project Celestial Power. For this, he would have to play a humiliating farce Tarkin wanted to play out by having Krennic come in person to arrange the extraction and transfer of the crystals to secure Imperial research facilities.
Normally, this would be a task below someone with the rank of commander but Tarkin knew that. They both knew that. So it had come as no surprise when just after Krennic's star destroyer emerged from hyperspace when they received a communication that the governor, at the last minute, had been forced to leave Lothal at the last minute. Krennic would just have to wait on Lothal until Tarkin returned, of course.
However, he had no intention of simply letting himself be humiliated by the governor. He could make good use of his time on Lothal while Tarkin was absent. As soon as the shuttle landed, he was striding forward briskly to meet the minister and whatever escort Tarkin would have arranged to greet him.
"And which of you would be Minister Tua then?" he asked sharply, looking over the assembled Imperial officials.
He'd walked right past her, in fact. Maketh tried no to hold that against him. The uniform she wore wasn't the Imperial standard and her hair - though caught in a strict bun - wouldn't stand up inspection. It was assigned to her by the Governor, who believed putting a civilian in charge would lighten the mood a bit with the locals. Thus, Maketh hadn't worn the uniform of an Imperial officer for almost a full year, nor did she exactly look the part. It had been a jarring transition, though one she'd accepted.
An officer did her duty. Always.
Aresko and Grint snapped to attention at her glare. She'd instructed them to select a guard of reliable storm troopers and not the Academy rejects they usually unleashed on the civilians, and dearly hoped they'd managed it. They had managed to look smart, at least, their uniforms prefect. Maketh largely left them to their own devices when they weren't directly in her line of sight, and that way could ignore their fuck-ups, which were common.
Said mistakes would not be allowed today. She desperately wanted a promotion, possibly onto a Star Destroyer, where she could finally put on a proper uniform. Thus, nothing would go wrong.
She smiled the Imperial smile, just as regulation required. She'd heard rumors about Krennic but hadn't had them verified just yet.
"Welcome to Lothal, sir. My officers are at your disposal."
Provided the rebels didn't make an appearance and set the city on fire again.
"I would hope so, Minister. I've heard there has been recent rebel activity on Lothal," Krennic remarked, gesturing for her to lead the way with a curt wave of his fingers. "I have no doubt the governor would be disappointed if something should occur during his absence." As if to reinforce his point, two of his black clad deathtroopers came to stand just behind him, at attention.
Perhaps that could be used to his advantage. Tarkin's ability to interfere would be greatly hindered if there was plenty to keep him occupied on Lothal. The more Vader was involved, the better. The governor's message had implied that Tarkin was tied up somewhere else as it was so he had a little bit of time to arrange a little something.
"I will require a tour of the facilities, I trust you are capable of that, Minister." He doubted that she was completely inept. Even if Tarkin wanted to humiliate him by leaving him with the rejects of the Imperial government, he knew the governor had no patience for useless subordinates.
Well, that was one rumor confirmed. Maketh just kept on smiling, letting nothing bleed into her face. Be a good officer, be courteous and stand just so, and plan the destruction of your enemies for another day. Krennic was too important to snub, especially if she ever wanted to get promoted again. Exactly what she'd done to get exiled back here - back home - was unknown to her, though Maketh suspected it was due either to her Mandalorian blood (though she'd been careful to kill the accent years ago) or, more likely, the fact she'd nearly had an indiscretion in the Academy. Either way, this meeting and all that followed had to go exactly according to plan. She'd probably never get a field command, but there were other ways to advance.
Hopefully the next one wouldn't involve the same backwater planet she'd been born on.
"Of course, Commander." Maketh inclined her head to his troopers. Clearly he didn't trust her storm troopers not to shoot him accidentally. She couldn't blame him for that. She'd been hit by her own men more than once. It was quite possible some of them hated her.
No one wanted to be stationed on Lothal, especially the storm troopers. It was a miserable planet and the locals had a special hatred for anything with an Imperial sigil.
"I assume your own men will be providing your escort?"
Her troops would be providing general security, but even Aresko's idiots knew better than to tread on the toes of Imperial Death Troopers.
Personally, Maketh didn't much care. They'd probably be shot at either way. Her own officers had been tasked with smoking insurgents out of the city weeks ago, but failed so miserably that she and Agent Kallus had taken over the endeavor. They'd placed snipers in hidden perches so even if attempts were made, they'd be countered swiftly.
Besides, it was good for officers to get their blood up. The Academy handbook said so.
One of the death troopers looked at assembled stormtroopers as they passed, almost as if to make a statement. And as if on cue, one of the stormtroopers suddenly fumbled with their weapon and dropped it. Krennic stopped and turned on his heal as the stormtrooper quickly recovered their weapon and straightened quickly. The damage had been done, though, and Krennic gave a couple of tsks with a shake of his head as he turned to Tua.
"Is this the state of affairs on Lothal?" he asked, almost incredulous. "My troopers will, of course, be coordinating with your security officer- I trust they will prove to be more competent," he said as he turned back so she could continue. "But it seems I will have to see to things in Governor Tarkin's absence," he said curtly. He was beginning to form an opinion of Minister Tua but he wanted to know why she had been left in charge.
He only hoped that the mining of kyber crystals wasn't subject to incompetent officials often found on planets like Lothal. This could hurt Tarkin's regard with the Emperor and soon it would be Krennic who was a regular at court instead of the governor. "What exactly do you do here, Minister? I wish to better understand operations on this planet."
Maketh schooled her face into the picture of polite nothingness in record time, but made sure that Aresko and Grint saw the rage in her glare when the Commander's back was turned. If they'd let a single damn trooper come to morning muster hungover or - even worse - still drunk, she was going to ruin them.
"Commandant," she said, ever so calmly.
"Er, yes?"
Good, he was squirming.
Maketh tipped her head to the side. "It appears that your men have an excess of time on their hands."
"Ma'am?"
"I can think of no other reason for their conduct. And in front of a commander, no less." She huffed. "But your troops are, of course, loyal. And since they love their Emperor so dearly, they're going to run the Desert Survival Course tonight." She narrowed her eyes at him in warning. The course had already killed a few of their stupider recruits. Maybe it would make the rest appreciate their position after they ran it a few more times. "I expect their devotion will break two new records. Don't you agree?"
Aresko looked like he'd swallowed something sharp. "Of course, Minister Tua."
Aside from Kallus and the Baron, Aresko counted as one of her few capable officers. Half of the time, at least. When he'd been properly motivated. Maketh didn't know what it was about this place that led officers to forget their devotion to the Empire and snub their duty besides, but she had vowed it would not happen to her.
She turned to Krennic with a smile, annoyance hidden. "I have administrative control of the city. And in the governor's absence, I--attend to issues close the Emperor's heart."
It was a kind way of saying that since Kallus hated paperwork and the ones who were actually supposed to be commanding the troops were either dead or - in the case of Aresko and his hulking shadow of a co-commander - utterly useless at the task, the role had fallen to her. Thus, Maketh looked after both the administrative duties of the city and also the military, plus all the nonsense with the rebels. She didn't sleep much.
Krennic remained quiet as she saw to her officers though there was a hint of a smirk on his lips. If this is what Tarkin had to deal with on Lothal then he couldn't imagine that the governor was having much luck with the rebel presence.
He waited patiently as she finished, letting her handle business. It wasn't for him to step in just yet to make suggestions just yet, not in front of the troopers and lesser ranked officials.
"I will make sure the Emperor knows how diligently you work on his behalf," Krennic said smoothly. "And no doubt Governor Tarkin appreciates your efforts as well," he added though there was a slight rise in his voice, making it almost an inquiry as they stepped inside the building. The two death troopers kept in step just behind them, never faltering.
The halls seemed to clear as if by magic before them as they made their way inside, Krennic letting Tua take the lead since she was showing him the facility and where he would be working. The sooner he could extract the kyber and leave this godforsaken planet to Tarkin and his rebel problem, the better, though.
[She remembers realizing - just before it happened - that Kallus had betrayed her. The smug look in his eyes should have been clue enough but she'd been so damn desperate she'd believed her plot had succeeded. Right up until she'd smelled something, possibly explosives, and the railing had given way under her feet. There had been fire. Shrapnel hissing through the air. And then--
Maketh wakes with a start, wheezing. She rolls onto her side and regrets it immediately, vision going white. Pain ceases to be a thing that happens to her and becomes her current state of being. This is her existence. This is how it goes. She can't breathe. Everything hurts. She's burning. Her hands won't move.
Cold tile presses against her cheek. Maketh tries to breathe. Forces herself to exhale.
Breathe, soldier. Collect yourself.
She's alive. Not restrained. Still in uniform. Currently scorched and stuck with shrapnel. She can feel it digging in. Grinding against things.
First: her blaster is gone. So is her hidden knife.
Second: Kallus broke her damn arm. She can't move it, has to bite down hard to keep from screaming when she tries.
Third: she's in a cell. Not one on the Imperial base.
And finally: she's not alone.
Maketh grimaces against the tiled floor.] Who are you?
Maybe it would've been better if she'd let her father's men take her. She'd still be in a cell, sure, but she'd be fed properly -- that's the highest priority -- and probably more comfortable too.
Here, there's a cot, and now a stranger. A soldier, badly wounded.
Demanding to know who she is.]
Not your enemy. [Rita has never cared much for politics beyond learning to use it in her favor. Her father taught her that. It's almost touching, if she could just forget the fact that it's his fault she now has white hair, extremely pale skin, and a neverending craving for human brains.
Thinking of which, is this soldier supposed to be Rita's meal? Gross. They couldn't have given her a dead one. Well, it'll be fresh when the time comes. This is too new, and she can't quite stomach the thought of killing someone. When she's hungry enough that she stops being Rita, yes, but for now, she'll stay as is.
She's not that much of a monster.] Who are you, and how did you get so... bloody?
[Well that's helpful. And probably a lie. Maketh bares her teeth, letting the cold sink into her cheek. It's something to focus on. Something that doesn't fucking hurt.] Car bomb. If you must know.
[She eyes the cell. Nothing in it is familiar except the purpose.]
Maketh Tua.
[She grimaces. It's probably a mistake to admit that. Especially if this woman is a rebel or related to anyone the Empire murdered.]
Where's Kallu? He's going to regret not shooting me.
[Maketh Tua. Maybe that should sound familiar. Maybe her father knows the name.
Doesn't matter now.]
I don't know who or where your boyfriend is, and I'm not into whatevee kink it is makes you wish you'd been shot to death, so I can't help you, Maketh Tua. Welcome to whatever godforsaken prison this is.
[It'd be easier if she knew who's behind this, who kidnapped her before her father could. He has too many enemy businessmen for her to guess with any certainty.
Rita crosses her arms and leans back against the wall, turning her head to look at the door.]
[Ha, hah. She'd laugh if not for the obvious complications. Maketh grimaces. She considers trying to roll onto her back. She can probably do it. She might cry in the attempt, is all. She probably shouldn't cry in front of strangers. Especially not in whatever prison this is.]
He's not my boyfriend. He's not anyone now.
[He's probably celebrating his promotion, Maketh thinks sourly.]
I'd rather be shot than tortured to death, thank you.
[Rita glances at her, sees her grimace. That must be uncomfortable, but she'd been taught you don't touch injured people lest you hurt them more.]
You're a regular ray of sunshine, aren't you? [She rolls her eyes.
A few seconds later, she answers. Her captors know who she is. What does it matter if this soldier does too? If they're here long enough, she'll be dead either by their jailers' hands or Rita's. No reason to keep names a secret.] Vaughn Du Clark. He's very rich. I'm Rita, his sole heir, if I make it out of here without losing my mind.
[Without turning into one of the angry, shambling zombies in the basement.]
[Thus far, there haven't been any problems of note. Nothing that requires the Guard to involve themselves, at least. Maketh watches the party with vague suspicion, a glass of whiskey close at hand. Regardless of her personal feelings about the gods, they've provided good alcohol this time around. She's pleasantly buzzed but not quite drunk. There will be time for that later, if she's so inclined.
For the moment, she settles herself with her back to the wall and a full 180 view of the room.
Just in case. She has a knife in a hidden holster if it comes to that.
[As much as the people gathered in this place seem to mostly adhere to social norms and customs similar to those from Brennan's waking life (she still believes this is a coma dream), there are those whose life clearly was lived outside those parameters. A quick scan of the ballroom reveals a few outliers, an observation which piques her interest -- to say nothing of the fact that her brain decided that such a festive gathering should be organized by Sorrow. That merits more analysis.
A glass of wine in hand, Brennan approaches a woman standing by herself. The woman shows signs of alcohol induced relaxation, which should make conversation easier.]
Hello. I am curious as to why you are displaying a behavior sometimes referred to as "being a wallflower". Typically, this behavior would be expected of teenagers or young adults, which you are not.
[Now that's quite blunt. Maketh lowers her glass, eyeing the woman up and down in frank appraisal. No obvious sign of a weapon, though she could have one concealed. And she's a newcomer, not someone that Maketh knows.] Someone must keep an eye on things. People might forget their manners.
[Bluntness leaves no room for misunderstandings. Even in a coma dream, Brennan values clarity.]
Oh, I see. You have deduced from the happenings in this underground city that there is always a risk of violence or magical phenomena. [Magical" -- Brennan knows it's all the firing of neurons in her brain, but the constructs here don't like it when she refers to them as what they are.] It's likely that you've been involved in law enforcement or other such activities for a long time, and therefore you're attempting to create a sense of the familiar in an unfamiliar location, with unfamiliar people.
[It makes sense.
She smiles and holds out a hand.] I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan.
[Maketh narrows her eyes at the extending hand before taking it gingerly. Apparently they do that Brennan's universe. Maketh doesn't like it. It puts her off balance, at risk of an attack.]
You speak like a psychologist.
[It's clear from her tone that Maketh is not a fan.]
[Ohoho no. Once the handshake is complete, Brennan gives a quick, derisive laugh.]
No. I am not a psychologist. Psychology is pseudoscience at best. I am a forensic anthropologist. My work relies on empirical evidence to arrive at the truth of an investigation or research project, not vaguely defined and highly subjective terminology that is arguable and hardly ever conclusive.
[Don't you ever assume otherwise!]
It would seem that you are familiar with psychology, which indicates that you've probably met my friend, Dr. Sweets.
[Being in prison, Maketh has discovered, is slightly worse than being in the Academy. Some things are the same. There's routine and rules to follow, a hierarchy both in writing and implied, and deals done under the table. She's gotten into three different fights and won two of them, gone to medical with broken fingers, and bribed six different guards with whatever remains of her savings. She does all right when she's got a plan and something to accomplish - survival being paramount - but the rest of the time, Maketh fears she's quietly going insane.
Solitary confinement is a beast she hasn't managed to conquer. Being stuck in a cell with nothing and no one for days at a time is --
Difficult. The guards have revoked her library privileges and she hasn't yet worked up enough favors to get another inmate to fix that for her. Days with nothing but her own thoughts are their own kind of torture. She prefers fighting with the guards.
But that's a problem she'll need to conquer soon, before it gets worse. She's still alive - though slightly confused as to why - and facing down a life sentence. Murder. Conspiracy to commit murder. Kidnapping. Unlawful imprisonment. She's guilty of about half the changes, though they were all done by someone. If she's going to survive and not end up strangled in the hallways, she'll need allies. Resources. And about 70% of her sanity.
Thus, she doesn't protest when she's woken up and dragged from her cell in shackles. It's unexpected, but only a little. The prison is maximum security. The only reason she's not dead is because the Empire's reach doesn't extend quite this far. Not yet, at least.
The guards leave the shackles on. It's an interrogation room. Maketh sits up very straight and waits, not sure why they need her. All her information is out of date, even if she might be convinced to betray it.]
Hello. I don't think we've met.
[Maketh smiles politely, hands folded in her lap. The chains rattle.]
I apologize for my appearance. It's hardly polite.
[This is not the first time Brennan is to intereogate someone by herself. She knows she's capable of doing well, and after all she's been through, she is not afraid. However, she is contending with two additional emotional constants (not variables) now: first, the fluctuation of her hormones due to pregnancy; and second, the overall pleasant but still new feelings that come with the change in her relationship with Booth.
Emotions. Completely irrational. Yet Brennan wouldn't change this for the world.
Today, at least, she is not feeling nauseous, though even if she were, she is a professional. She can even relate to this woman somewhat. Three days had felt like so much longer when all she'd had for company was darkness. Worse, there had been no system in place to protect her, only men who ruled by fear and violence, and her accented Spanish to communicate with.
She has read the file on this woman and performed the autopsies on the remains of her (alleged) victims, so she is prepared.
The polite greeting is something of a surprise, though. But no, it will not throw her. The facts are still the facts.]
Your appearance is irrelevant. [Brennan sits, setting some files in front of herself.] I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan. It's probable you've heard of me.
[That happens when you're the best in the world at what you do.]
[Maketh keeps her expression polite. Things go easier that way. The guard seem to expect her to spit and rage, though Maketh hardly sees the point. There are too many of them and only one of her.
Besides, she's shackled. And this woman - this doctor - wants something from her.
[Maketh goes very still then. It's been years since she's heard those names out loud. She was sixteen when they died. She's tried not to think of them since and as such remembers them constantly.]
What?
[The records had been scrubbed. Their bodies should have been long gone. But this woman knows their names. It should be impossible, unless they were buried in their uniforms. Even then--
No. Impossible. It's a trick.
Maketh smiles. Not so politely, this time.]
Their surname was Deol. Why are you asking me about this?
[Brennan notes the changes in Maketh's body language. Briefly, she wishes Sweets were here to help, but since he's not, she barrels right onwards.]
Their remains were found in unmarked graves during an unrelated investigation. My team and I at the Jeffersonian were able to identify them and connect them to a few individuals. One of them was you. Since you're currently in custody, you are the logical first choice to ask about them.
[She's not cold and haded, like she used to be. No, Brennan is relaxed despite her perfect posture, and sounds more curious than demanding. The only power she has here comes from her ability to find damning evidence where no one else can. Otherwise, she can't harm Maketh Tua at all.]
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Date: 2016-12-20 11:32 pm (UTC)Normally, this would be a task below someone with the rank of commander but Tarkin knew that. They both knew that. So it had come as no surprise when just after Krennic's star destroyer emerged from hyperspace when they received a communication that the governor, at the last minute, had been forced to leave Lothal at the last minute. Krennic would just have to wait on Lothal until Tarkin returned, of course.
However, he had no intention of simply letting himself be humiliated by the governor. He could make good use of his time on Lothal while Tarkin was absent. As soon as the shuttle landed, he was striding forward briskly to meet the minister and whatever escort Tarkin would have arranged to greet him.
"And which of you would be Minister Tua then?" he asked sharply, looking over the assembled Imperial officials.
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Date: 2016-12-21 12:20 am (UTC)He'd walked right past her, in fact. Maketh tried no to hold that against him. The uniform she wore wasn't the Imperial standard and her hair - though caught in a strict bun - wouldn't stand up inspection. It was assigned to her by the Governor, who believed putting a civilian in charge would lighten the mood a bit with the locals. Thus, Maketh hadn't worn the uniform of an Imperial officer for almost a full year, nor did she exactly look the part. It had been a jarring transition, though one she'd accepted.
An officer did her duty. Always.
Aresko and Grint snapped to attention at her glare. She'd instructed them to select a guard of reliable storm troopers and not the Academy rejects they usually unleashed on the civilians, and dearly hoped they'd managed it. They had managed to look smart, at least, their uniforms prefect. Maketh largely left them to their own devices when they weren't directly in her line of sight, and that way could ignore their fuck-ups, which were common.
Said mistakes would not be allowed today. She desperately wanted a promotion, possibly onto a Star Destroyer, where she could finally put on a proper uniform. Thus, nothing would go wrong.
She smiled the Imperial smile, just as regulation required. She'd heard rumors about Krennic but hadn't had them verified just yet.
"Welcome to Lothal, sir. My officers are at your disposal."
Provided the rebels didn't make an appearance and set the city on fire again.
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Date: 2016-12-21 12:57 am (UTC)Perhaps that could be used to his advantage. Tarkin's ability to interfere would be greatly hindered if there was plenty to keep him occupied on Lothal. The more Vader was involved, the better. The governor's message had implied that Tarkin was tied up somewhere else as it was so he had a little bit of time to arrange a little something.
"I will require a tour of the facilities, I trust you are capable of that, Minister." He doubted that she was completely inept. Even if Tarkin wanted to humiliate him by leaving him with the rejects of the Imperial government, he knew the governor had no patience for useless subordinates.
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Date: 2016-12-21 01:12 am (UTC)Hopefully the next one wouldn't involve the same backwater planet she'd been born on.
"Of course, Commander." Maketh inclined her head to his troopers. Clearly he didn't trust her storm troopers not to shoot him accidentally. She couldn't blame him for that. She'd been hit by her own men more than once. It was quite possible some of them hated her.
No one wanted to be stationed on Lothal, especially the storm troopers. It was a miserable planet and the locals had a special hatred for anything with an Imperial sigil.
"I assume your own men will be providing your escort?"
Her troops would be providing general security, but even Aresko's idiots knew better than to tread on the toes of Imperial Death Troopers.
Personally, Maketh didn't much care. They'd probably be shot at either way. Her own officers had been tasked with smoking insurgents out of the city weeks ago, but failed so miserably that she and Agent Kallus had taken over the endeavor. They'd placed snipers in hidden perches so even if attempts were made, they'd be countered swiftly.
Besides, it was good for officers to get their blood up. The Academy handbook said so.
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Date: 2016-12-21 02:12 am (UTC)"Is this the state of affairs on Lothal?" he asked, almost incredulous. "My troopers will, of course, be coordinating with your security officer- I trust they will prove to be more competent," he said as he turned back so she could continue. "But it seems I will have to see to things in Governor Tarkin's absence," he said curtly. He was beginning to form an opinion of Minister Tua but he wanted to know why she had been left in charge.
He only hoped that the mining of kyber crystals wasn't subject to incompetent officials often found on planets like Lothal. This could hurt Tarkin's regard with the Emperor and soon it would be Krennic who was a regular at court instead of the governor. "What exactly do you do here, Minister? I wish to better understand operations on this planet."
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Date: 2016-12-21 02:33 am (UTC)Maketh schooled her face into the picture of polite nothingness in record time, but made sure that Aresko and Grint saw the rage in her glare when the Commander's back was turned. If they'd let a single damn trooper come to morning muster hungover or - even worse - still drunk, she was going to ruin them.
"Commandant," she said, ever so calmly.
"Er, yes?"
Good, he was squirming.
Maketh tipped her head to the side. "It appears that your men have an excess of time on their hands."
"Ma'am?"
"I can think of no other reason for their conduct. And in front of a commander, no less." She huffed. "But your troops are, of course, loyal. And since they love their Emperor so dearly, they're going to run the Desert Survival Course tonight." She narrowed her eyes at him in warning. The course had already killed a few of their stupider recruits. Maybe it would make the rest appreciate their position after they ran it a few more times. "I expect their devotion will break two new records. Don't you agree?"
Aresko looked like he'd swallowed something sharp. "Of course, Minister Tua."
Aside from Kallus and the Baron, Aresko counted as one of her few capable officers. Half of the time, at least. When he'd been properly motivated. Maketh didn't know what it was about this place that led officers to forget their devotion to the Empire and snub their duty besides, but she had vowed it would not happen to her.
She turned to Krennic with a smile, annoyance hidden. "I have administrative control of the city. And in the governor's absence, I--attend to issues close the Emperor's heart."
It was a kind way of saying that since Kallus hated paperwork and the ones who were actually supposed to be commanding the troops were either dead or - in the case of Aresko and his hulking shadow of a co-commander - utterly useless at the task, the role had fallen to her. Thus, Maketh looked after both the administrative duties of the city and also the military, plus all the nonsense with the rebels. She didn't sleep much.
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Date: 2016-12-21 02:55 am (UTC)He waited patiently as she finished, letting her handle business. It wasn't for him to step in just yet to make suggestions just yet, not in front of the troopers and lesser ranked officials.
"I will make sure the Emperor knows how diligently you work on his behalf," Krennic said smoothly. "And no doubt Governor Tarkin appreciates your efforts as well," he added though there was a slight rise in his voice, making it almost an inquiry as they stepped inside the building. The two death troopers kept in step just behind them, never faltering.
The halls seemed to clear as if by magic before them as they made their way inside, Krennic letting Tua take the lead since she was showing him the facility and where he would be working. The sooner he could extract the kyber and leave this godforsaken planet to Tarkin and his rebel problem, the better, though.
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From:Rita Maketh - Rats In A Trap
Date: 2016-12-31 11:55 pm (UTC)Maketh wakes with a start, wheezing. She rolls onto her side and regrets it immediately, vision going white. Pain ceases to be a thing that happens to her and becomes her current state of being. This is her existence. This is how it goes. She can't breathe. Everything hurts. She's burning. Her hands won't move.
Cold tile presses against her cheek. Maketh tries to breathe. Forces herself to exhale.
Breathe, soldier. Collect yourself.
She's alive. Not restrained. Still in uniform. Currently scorched and stuck with shrapnel. She can feel it digging in. Grinding against things.
First: her blaster is gone. So is her hidden knife.
Second: Kallus broke her damn arm. She can't move it, has to bite down hard to keep from screaming when she tries.
Third: she's in a cell. Not one on the Imperial base.
And finally: she's not alone.
Maketh grimaces against the tiled floor.] Who are you?
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 12:14 am (UTC)Maybe it would've been better if she'd let her father's men take her. She'd still be in a cell, sure, but she'd be fed properly -- that's the highest priority -- and probably more comfortable too.
Here, there's a cot, and now a stranger. A soldier, badly wounded.
Demanding to know who she is.]
Not your enemy. [Rita has never cared much for politics beyond learning to use it in her favor. Her father taught her that. It's almost touching, if she could just forget the fact that it's his fault she now has white hair, extremely pale skin, and a neverending craving for human brains.
Thinking of which, is this soldier supposed to be Rita's meal? Gross. They couldn't have given her a dead one. Well, it'll be fresh when the time comes. This is too new, and she can't quite stomach the thought of killing someone. When she's hungry enough that she stops being Rita, yes, but for now, she'll stay as is.
She's not that much of a monster.] Who are you, and how did you get so... bloody?
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 12:24 am (UTC)[She eyes the cell. Nothing in it is familiar except the purpose.]
Maketh Tua.
[She grimaces. It's probably a mistake to admit that. Especially if this woman is a rebel or related to anyone the Empire murdered.]
Where's Kallu? He's going to regret not shooting me.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 12:36 am (UTC)Doesn't matter now.]
I don't know who or where your boyfriend is, and I'm not into whatevee kink it is makes you wish you'd been shot to death, so I can't help you, Maketh Tua. Welcome to whatever godforsaken prison this is.
[It'd be easier if she knew who's behind this, who kidnapped her before her father could. He has too many enemy businessmen for her to guess with any certainty.
Rita crosses her arms and leans back against the wall, turning her head to look at the door.]
Car bombs are my father's style.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 12:40 am (UTC)He's not my boyfriend. He's not anyone now.
[He's probably celebrating his promotion, Maketh thinks sourly.]
I'd rather be shot than tortured to death, thank you.
[She narrows her eyes.]
Who is your father? And who are you?
no subject
Date: 2017-01-01 12:54 am (UTC)You're a regular ray of sunshine, aren't you? [She rolls her eyes.
A few seconds later, she answers. Her captors know who she is. What does it matter if this soldier does too? If they're here long enough, she'll be dead either by their jailers' hands or Rita's. No reason to keep names a secret.] Vaughn Du Clark. He's very rich. I'm Rita, his sole heir, if I make it out of here without losing my mind.
[Without turning into one of the angry, shambling zombies in the basement.]
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From:Formal Dress - Brennan Maketh
Date: 2017-05-30 02:39 pm (UTC)For the moment, she settles herself with her back to the wall and a full 180 view of the room.
Just in case. She has a knife in a hidden holster if it comes to that.
It probably won't. But it might.]
blanket apology applies
Date: 2017-05-30 02:56 pm (UTC)A glass of wine in hand, Brennan approaches a woman standing by herself. The woman shows signs of alcohol induced relaxation, which should make conversation easier.]
Hello. I am curious as to why you are displaying a behavior sometimes referred to as "being a wallflower". Typically, this behavior would be expected of teenagers or young adults, which you are not.
no subject
Date: 2017-05-30 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-05-30 03:22 pm (UTC)Oh, I see. You have deduced from the happenings in this underground city that there is always a risk of violence or magical phenomena. [Magical" -- Brennan knows it's all the firing of neurons in her brain, but the constructs here don't like it when she refers to them as what they are.] It's likely that you've been involved in law enforcement or other such activities for a long time, and therefore you're attempting to create a sense of the familiar in an unfamiliar location, with unfamiliar people.
[It makes sense.
She smiles and holds out a hand.] I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan.
no subject
Date: 2017-05-30 03:24 pm (UTC)You speak like a psychologist.
[It's clear from her tone that Maketh is not a fan.]
Maketh Tua. Guardswoman.
no subject
Date: 2017-05-30 03:37 pm (UTC)No. I am not a psychologist. Psychology is pseudoscience at best. I am a forensic anthropologist. My work relies on empirical evidence to arrive at the truth of an investigation or research project, not vaguely defined and highly subjective terminology that is arguable and hardly ever conclusive.
[Don't you ever assume otherwise!]
It would seem that you are familiar with psychology, which indicates that you've probably met my friend, Dr. Sweets.
[Coma-Sweets. Dr. Sweets is dead.]
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From:Brennan Maketh - Down So Low
Date: 2017-06-07 02:00 pm (UTC)Solitary confinement is a beast she hasn't managed to conquer. Being stuck in a cell with nothing and no one for days at a time is --
Difficult. The guards have revoked her library privileges and she hasn't yet worked up enough favors to get another inmate to fix that for her. Days with nothing but her own thoughts are their own kind of torture. She prefers fighting with the guards.
But that's a problem she'll need to conquer soon, before it gets worse. She's still alive - though slightly confused as to why - and facing down a life sentence. Murder. Conspiracy to commit murder. Kidnapping. Unlawful imprisonment. She's guilty of about half the changes, though they were all done by someone. If she's going to survive and not end up strangled in the hallways, she'll need allies. Resources. And about 70% of her sanity.
Thus, she doesn't protest when she's woken up and dragged from her cell in shackles. It's unexpected, but only a little. The prison is maximum security. The only reason she's not dead is because the Empire's reach doesn't extend quite this far. Not yet, at least.
The guards leave the shackles on. It's an interrogation room. Maketh sits up very straight and waits, not sure why they need her. All her information is out of date, even if she might be convinced to betray it.]
Hello. I don't think we've met.
[Maketh smiles politely, hands folded in her lap. The chains rattle.]
I apologize for my appearance. It's hardly polite.
no subject
Date: 2017-06-07 03:42 pm (UTC)Emotions. Completely irrational. Yet Brennan wouldn't change this for the world.
Today, at least, she is not feeling nauseous, though even if she were, she is a professional. She can even relate to this woman somewhat. Three days had felt like so much longer when all she'd had for company was darkness. Worse, there had been no system in place to protect her, only men who ruled by fear and violence, and her accented Spanish to communicate with.
She has read the file on this woman and performed the autopsies on the remains of her (alleged) victims, so she is prepared.
The polite greeting is something of a surprise, though. But no, it will not throw her. The facts are still the facts.]
Your appearance is irrelevant. [Brennan sits, setting some files in front of herself.] I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan. It's probable you've heard of me.
[That happens when you're the best in the world at what you do.]
no subject
Date: 2017-06-07 04:01 pm (UTC)[Maketh keeps her expression polite. Things go easier that way. The guard seem to expect her to spit and rage, though Maketh hardly sees the point. There are too many of them and only one of her.
Besides, she's shackled. And this woman - this doctor - wants something from her.
Maketh eyes the files curiously.]
What do you want, Doctor Brennan?
no subject
Date: 2017-06-07 04:57 pm (UTC)I have some questions about the murders of-- [She opens a file and glances down at the top page.] Itani and Kareem. Their last names, to begin with.
no subject
Date: 2017-06-07 05:06 pm (UTC)What?
[The records had been scrubbed. Their bodies should have been long gone. But this woman knows their names. It should be impossible, unless they were buried in their uniforms. Even then--
No. Impossible. It's a trick.
Maketh smiles. Not so politely, this time.]
Their surname was Deol. Why are you asking me about this?
no subject
Date: 2017-06-07 06:46 pm (UTC)Their remains were found in unmarked graves during an unrelated investigation. My team and I at the Jeffersonian were able to identify them and connect them to a few individuals. One of them was you. Since you're currently in custody, you are the logical first choice to ask about them.
[She's not cold and haded, like she used to be. No, Brennan is relaxed despite her perfect posture, and sounds more curious than demanding. The only power she has here comes from her ability to find damning evidence where no one else can. Otherwise, she can't harm Maketh Tua at all.]
Our records show that you trained together.
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From:cw for self harm
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