Memoir [Closed/Invite]

Dee'ja Peak, Naboo
18:21 GST
Five years ago


The smaller town was very scenic and offered the quiet and the dark to those who so desired. Even though it willingly gave its town folk the seclusion, it still presented the Naboo Parliament. A capitol building in a supposed hidden gem offered a sort of false advertisement to its people. Among the buildings lush vegetation surrounded them and the signature waterfalls fell as a backdrop. "It's beautiful here," the sound was low, eerie, and demanding attention.

It pulled at her ear and she begged not to see. The power in his cold blue eyes was enough to have fear slinking away-never mind the horror painted in every expression she tried to hide. He just stared, unblinking until she answered, "Beautiful, I agree." A beautiful lie, she thought and the words must have been apparent on her face because he laughed. It was a throaty, rolling laugh that went bone... soul deep. He knew her in ways that he should not have. That at this age, no one should have. Not yet.

Eyes that had matched the foliage with its deep and pale shades of green dimmed and made the waterfall the new object of interest. She had learned to keep secrets to herself, but not all. If she kept them all, he’d know.

“Such potential,” the man said and removed his hands from within the folds of his robes, “such a waste that you cannot harness it.” With slight cant of his head the ivory gown enrobing her pooled at her feet, leaving her only in undergarments.

The cool evening breeze fell over her shoulders. So did his calloused hands. This reminded her of the day her father came to pass vividly. It happened every time like this-every time he touched her. “I have seen you use your hate,” soft wet lips slid along her ear when he whispered. “I know you have felt its power.”

Painstakingly, the journey of his hands ventured slowly on a southern route. Anesia would have cried, if it would have benefited her. He would have only driven her to cry harder just so that he could feed from the raw emotion. “Serve me.”

As expected, the young pupil of only seventeen leaned into her master. The massive brown robes enveloped her, his arms like snakes around her waist. In the midst of tall emerald grass, exotic neon painted flowers and crystal clear falls, Damon stripped her yet again so that she lay bare in his arms.

Dark red-brown hair was shifted to one shoulder with the swipe of agile, long fingers so that her neck could be made a meal. “You hunger for it,” he breathed a sigh while the robes served only to keep them hidden. He would have his way with Anesia, like he always had.

Vulnerability was everything in this game.

The artificial planetoid slipped quietly through the mottled tunnel of hyperspace. Across its surface only the recessed entryways to the vast underground research facility and barracks could be seen. Deep beneath the man-made stone and dirt, lay the command centre. The insignia of the Imperial Navy could be seen upon the circular wall, in the centre of the room banks of terminals could be found. Tech-officers manned their stations while a tall, stocky, grizzled grey haired man stalked back and forth before the command chair. His rank identified him as a General of the Imperial Navy but he had long since turned in his commission. Now Talta, the work of its scientific staff and the three thousand troopers stationed on it were solely under his command.

He was Warlord Gallen and at his command he had the most fearsome weapon the Empire had ever created.

"Sir," A navigations officer called out. "We are approaching reversion point in twenty seconds."

Warlord Gallen have a quiet nod of acknowledgement, he didn't need to say more. The Worldcrafts crew had proven their worth and their metal a hundred times over since they had bid fair well to the floundering Imperial Navy. The procedure never changed when it came to an unescorted trip such as this, they would find a patch of empty space within three hours jump distance from their destination. Then they'd take a shuttle the rest of the way.

"When we arrive, notify our contact we shall be planetside at the agreed location." He stalked toward the command centre entrance and then stopped and half turned. "Prep 001 for transport."

Amidst the self-made cave of robes- it seemed only shadows were offered and there was no way out... no way but straight into the devil's embrace- a small red light blinked, enough to cast its light at her feet. A crackle of chatter enveloped the quiet, never mind how indiscernible it was. Might as well have been a blow horn. Damon's face was that of curiosity, she knew, even though she could not see. "It seems you are being requested," came his hollow voice and even as he said it aloud, Anesia could feel the anger dancing in his words.

"Seems is not exactly the right word. I have business to attend," she gave him a quick, sharp smile.

The com-link device along with the dress it was fastened to was suddenly scooped up before she could get it herself. No longer were there robes to shelter her and she stood as naked as the day she was born. "I was not made aware of this," Damon said simply.

A thin brow arched up and she narrowed her eyes, "Forgive me. It slipped my mind, Master. Nonetheless, business is business." Anesia moved fluidly in his direction, using her long, thin fingers to yank her dress away. "I need my clot-" mid-sentence, the young woman found her jaw in his grasp.

"You need nothing that I do not care to give you. Suppose I let you go..." With his other hand he stroked her hair, then her cheek, "but only as you are." The grip he had let up slightly, but the heat was still there and she forced herself to look at him rebelliously.

"Suppose I don't care," she snarled at him, clenching her teeth so hard it began to hurt. After all, she really had nothing to be ashamed of physically. She knew that. He knew that.

That was when he grabbed the com, clicked it, then shot her a dark look. "That is a negative. She will not be meeting at the rendezvous point, over."

Anesia turned her face away and he must have taken it as her hiding a defeated look. In reality, her face held a expression far more dark than his.

They sat in the belly of the shuttle,Warlord Gallen, twelve troopers, and one other dressed from head to toe in what anyone would have recognized as black Mandalorian armour. Unlike the others it bore no insignia, it bore no rank or designation of loyalty.

"Sir," Came a transmission on the Warlords earpiece. "We received a return transmission. It falls into plan Beta parameters." The silver haired man looked around at the storm troopers set along the benches across from them and then to his right where the Mandalorian sat, utterly motionless.

"Beta confirmed." Gallen informed them and then handed a small dataslate to the pilot. "Upload that tracking data into the navigational computer. Take us there and prepare for a combat drop."

"Understood!"

The shuttle hit Naboos atmosphere with barely a shudder, the ships were well designed and the pilots well trained. Soon they were skimming across the lush landscape of Naboo with the capital, Theed, growing steadily larger in the cockpit windows. They flew over the city, intermingling with air traffic and then onwards towards the Capital building and the cascading waterfall that lay beyond it.

"Approaching Co-ordinates," Came the pilots voice. "Looks like the grounds of an estate set near the falls, doing a flyover. Prepare to drop." The shuttle barrelled noisily overhead and then banked back around dipping low while its rear boarding ramp hissed open. The squadron were out first, rolling along the grass and expertly up onto their feet taking up firing positions around the only other sentients in sight. Next came Gallen and the Mandalorian, they however seemed to glide to a graceful rest upon the viridian foliage.

"I do believe," Gallen began, eyeing the man and the naked girl with icy blues. "That we had an appointment." At his side loomed the silent ebony soldier, the expressionless metal of its helm moved slowly, almost methodically, to Anesias lithe robeless, form and stayed there.

Nothing short of a sigh came from betwixt pale pink lips and her head turned- almost mechanically in how it moved- to look upon them all. She looked to Gallen first, then the onyx armor clad soldier- Anesia paused a moment before allowing her gaze to skate to Damon. "Well," and the way he said it, you could have pictured a man behind a desk with his fingers tented, telling you the date and time of your death.

Under normal circumstances, she would have recoiled to save herself from a lashing. This was different in many ways. For instance, never once had he met any of her contacts. Anesia always kept business separate. Always. There was never an instance of crossing lines. It kept things simple and safe.

"If it is not painfully obvious to you gentlemen, she is a bit preoccupied at the moment." Each billowy sleeved arm crossed over the other and Damon kept his icy gaze trained on Gallen. He was confident and appeared to be relaxed. More often than not, her Master was that way.

When she moved, crossing over a patch of plush grass between them, his eyes flickered. There was no care in her steps, it was all liquid-like, her hips swayed slightly, naturally. A soldier fell out of line briefly, blue garb in hand- only long enough for Anesia to extend her hand and take the offering though.

In a matter of moments, she had slipped into the offered shelter. There had been nothing but silence until now, "If you could please deactivate that com, it would be most appreciated," it was no command and it was not aimed at anyone in particular... at least not obviously.

"Clearly preoccupied," a hint of amusement etched across her visage and she cracked a small smile.

Gallen cocked a brow at the robed man and clasped his hands at the small of his back before giving a subtle nod to his men. The troopers moved toward the girl and one extracted a thermal blanket from a satchel on his belt and handed it to her while the rest kept their E-11 Blaster Rifles trained on Damon.

"Quite." Was the solitary word that the Warlord gave in response. The roar of the shuttles engines ripping through the momentary calm as it came in to land on the grass behind them and Galen gave the man a final once over with his steely blues before turned and walking toward the waiting vessel, with the Mandalorian close behind.

"AAAANEEEEEESSIIAAAAAAAA!" her name sprung from his serpent tongue, lashing and whipping its way through the trees and waterfalls. It was not loud per-say, but the power behind it spoke volumes. His anger crawled over her skin like tiny parasites. Damon's hand sprung out, fingers wrapped around an invisible force until the barest of blue began forming in the palm of his hand.

The woman's eyes widened at first, glowing a soft green and she pulled the thermal blanket tighter around her lithe form. She did not cower though- nor did she slink behind one of the many armed men and hide. If Anesia was anything at all at this point, it was rebellious. She had a force to be reckoned with at her back, surrounding the very edges of Voss Estate.

Still, the destruction he would cast upon her was evident in the way he looked at her. He was disgusted, disappointed... furious with his pupil. In a matter of seconds, the emotion dissipated and it was calm- at least on his side. The once blue sparks that were formed in his hand had grew into the shape of good-sized ball. Energy pulsed of its own accord and then was propelled into the air towards them.

It began to transform mid-flight and spread until it resembled that of a net. "I am not done with you yet." From his other hand, Damon had threw a small metal star at Anesia.

The cry cut through Gallen like an iced blade, the career military man wasn't prone to fear but something reverberated behind that voice and a small, primal part of his mind recognized it as dangerous.

He turned to look at Anesia before his gaze flicked to the growing display of the Force by Damon and then toward the dark soldier that had trailed him like a shadow. If any words were spoken between the pair they were to low and subtle to be noticed but the Mandalorian moved away from Anesia and the Warlord, taking a half dozen steps to place himself between them and the oncoming electric blue net of Force energy.

"Please," Gallen said, his hand motioning toward the open ship. "After you."

The Mandalorian regarded the incoming net with little apparent interest, his gauntleted hands at his sides, his stance impassive as the projectile sizzled the air toward them. Only three present would have felt the sudden and inexplicable up welling of ethereal energy that ripped from the Mandalorians form, the waters of the every flowing Force churned and broiled, rising up like great snapping serpents and guided by their master they roared unseen toward the force net and ripped into its make up with ragged jaws of Telekinetic power.

The dark metal helm, as dispassionate and unfeeling as any droid, came to rest upon Damon. Whatever thoughts the Mandalorian had, whatever he felt about the act of aggression on the mans part, were utterly unreadable.

The ascent up the ramp felt long- her feet felt heavy- and she found herself turning, letting the soldiers brush past her, even as they tried to mush her forward. Gallen had even made a nudge at her elbow on more than one occasion. "Mandalorian," shouted Anesia, though she knew there would be no audible answer or even a moments look in her direction. Her chin was held steady and her gaze became distant, clouded and cold as it zeroed on Damon.

Keep him alive, commanded the young woman, but it was all in whispers.

It was her farewell of sorts to her Master. He had trained her well. Anesia peered up at Gallen, "Tell him to take his eyes, nothing else." Full pale lips tugged up into a smile and she moved past him into the warmth of the ship.

"Its all in hand." Gallen responded with a small smile as he took his seat on the shuttle while another silent exchange took place between general and soldier. "Make it quick Zero-One, we have a schedule to keep."

Zero-One did not turn his attention from Damon and the robed Force Master had made no other attempt to belay his commander or his former charge. They stood there for but a heartbeat and then the calm was ripped a sunder by a flutter of robes. Damon pushed his body to unnatural speeds, darting toward the Mandalorian as a long silvery cylinder slipped from his left sleeve and with a stereo snap-hiss blue blades leapt from either end. The weapon twirled before him, held adeptly in both hands, slashing the air in a luminous display of ferocity.

An underhanded strike toward the dark armour yielded nothing but air, the taller and obviously more laden of the pair slipped three steps to the side and then dipped as Damon turned on the balls of his feet to cleave across at chest level. The balance of of aggressor and defender stayed very much in Damons favour for the next several exchanges but as fast he unleashed his assaults, the armoured soldier was quicker in his evasion.

They moved rapidly in their dance across the grassy plains so much so that all the troopers could see from their vantage point were blurs of blacks, blues and dark browns intermingling in a maelstrom of hyper-accelerated motion that no mortal could hope to follow let alone contend with.

A minute had passed, perhaps a second more or a second less when the tide of battle shifted dramatically. The Force was a sirens song to those trained to hear, a tempest raging across the landscape as they clashed and if one had the skill to focus their minds eye upon Zero-One they would have saw the beginning of the end.

Damon cried out in frustration at his silent and elusive foe, no blows had been struck by either side but his tentative grip upon his anger was being sorely tested in this bout. He slashed once over hand, then under and cut a whirling catherine wheel of cerulean toward the head and chest of his adversary. The strikes found themselves an inch short each time, the dark armour seeming to tease his blade allowing it close but not enough for satisfaction.

It was in the final rotation that the balance shifted, quicker than any could follow Zero-One was within touching distance, his left gauntlet lashing outwards palm first and hammering into the centre of Damon's lightsaber handle. The blow alone would not have been enough to damage the weapon, it was expertly built and reinforced for battle, but the explosion of focused energy that the soldier channelled through his strike, into a hairline fracture in its very atomic make up broke the weapon as if it were glass.

Zero-One spun on the balls of his feet before the fragments had even hit the ground, lashed out with the back of his left hand driving it into Damons cheek; snapping the mans head and body to the side. A adjustment of his footing and a slight turn brought the ebon force adept back in to optimum striking range and his boot lashed out in an ungraceful stomp that ground against his foes knee with an audible pop. Anesias former master cried out and instinctively fell to his knees, little did he know that whatever he beheld then would be his last.

The Mandalorians hand snapped out at the elbow his index, middle and thumb aimed at Damons face and unleashed the Force upon the defeated Master, the mans eyes smouldered for a heart beat and then with twin geysers of unnatural fire the very liquid inside boiled and burst into steam.

Damon could only scream, he could only curse, his hands shielding the cauterized sockets as he writhed on the ground. Zero-One cared little for the cries of those he was pitted against, Gallen knew this more than anyone and watching him at work was both terrifying and fascinating all at once. None of his team spoke when their armoured comrade entered the shuttle and retook his silent vigil beside the Warlord.

"Like I said, Lady Anesia, its all in hand." Gallen smiled with a touch of pride.

The tapestry was bland- everything within the ship was black, gray or metal. There were small panoramic windows on either side, lockers, and med cabinets. While there was a calling to stand and watch the battle, Anesia opted for a seat with no view. "We shall see," her head lowered as if in prayer and she tugged the garment over her head so it could swathe the back. She did not need to see it; her Master was feeding her images and emotions through the invisible bonds they shared. Usually, this did not happen- he was normally too far away for it to do any good or bad.

Quiet was she, still as the night even though she could feel each slice, each touch as if she was taking the damage. Anesia could see Zero-One, though the way in which she did was dream-like through Damon's eyes. It was blurry at times, fog filled and actions seemed drawn out so that every detail was painfully obvious. Obvious and stored away.

Nails had dug into the fabric of the blanket, the covering the hood gave and her thick ebon lashes shielded pitch black eyes. If there was movement in them, it could not be seen. The only sense that she was not a life-sized doll or dead was the steady rise and fall of her chest.

When her request had been carried out, Anesia knew. The smile that branded her face was thin, merciless and knowing. Even though she had not been the one to do it, it had been at her request. Damon knew that and that pleased her.

One of the few things he taught her in depth was imagery. What he did not know, was that she had become so adept in the art that she could create things and present them as real. While Gallen and herself had never had any sort of sexual relationship, she pushed the very image of that taking place into Damon's weakened mind.

"What is in hand can," she paused to lift her head, blinking long lashes as she did and stood, "always be taken." The normal bright green was fading in to take the place of the black and she rolled her fingers softly along Gallen's shoulder. Her hand dropped back to her side before glancing to Zero-One, "Mandalorian."

It was all she spoke before making her way in to the cabins of the ship.

No one spoke as their guest made her way out of the seating area and Gallen barely noticed when she touched his shoulder. They were professionals and each was merely considering what came next, what would the ramifications be of their actions on Naboo and more importantly just how much trust should be placed in the young woman they had gotten into bed with.

"Watch her." Gallen said to Zero-One as he comm'd the pilot.

The ramp hissed to a close and they were airborne in two minutes. The rest of the troopers didn't speak, they simply held their rifles across their lap and waited for the short jump back to Talta.

"Was it just me or did he play around this time?" One of the Stormtrooper said, finally breaking the silence as the ship lurched and they jumped into hyperspace.

"He's never been against an opponent that can use the Force." Gallen responded. "Its in his training to assess a new opponent before fully engaging." No one even bothered to look at the black armoured soldier in question.

The ship burst from hyperspace at the designated area less than twenty minutes later and ahead loomed the artificial planetoid designated Talta. The shuttle gained clearance and the batteries of turbolasers stopped tracking the ship before it docked in the only starport on Taltas surface.

"Welcome back Warlord Gallen," A stick thin aide said as the ramp hit ground and the squad, with Gallen and Zero-One, exited the craft. "Eventful trip?"

"Eventful enough, we have a guest please make sure she is taken care of and inform her that I would like to see her when she is more together."

The interior of the ship was a clean, dark metal and her fingers had fell deftly and feather light along the walls to either side. Even though the blanket swathed around her hid any hint of what was underneath, the sway of her hips as she walked however, told of a different story. Anesia's feet padded softly and without sound; she had learned to become one with her surroundings when it benefited her. Silent was the woman- mysterious even, alluring even more. Tempt what is untemptable. "Watch me," she had said in a soft purr- her hands coming to her sides and remarkably, the blanket did not fall amiss- just as she turned into the guest cabin allotted to her.

Just as stark, the small cabin offered nothing warm or feminine. It was small and gray, the decor a flat black- it felt depressing and she felt like a prisoner. The woman had done nothing wrong, yet she could not help but feel as if her every move was under a microscope.

"Lady Anesia," the voice that filtered into the room was hollow, mechanic driven; no emotion lined the seemingly female aid. Her lips were as thin as her frame and for a moment, the young lady toyed with the idea that, perhaps there was no gender. That was until she noted the rise and fall of small barely-there breasts.

A smile was offered- nothing more than a slash of pearly white teeth. It could have came off as predatory had she not of had such an innocent looking visage. "I cannot meet our Lord Gallen without a scrap of clothing to wear," even though Anesia's tone was pleasant enough, the aide gave her a weary gaze. Afterall, she had not even mentioned having been beckoned.

The dark tressed lady ignored it and proceeded with her request, "Would it be too much trouble to acquire some clothing?" Deep brown lashes batted and she gave the aide her back, disrobing.

"Right away," the hurried steps and the sound quickly vanished- Anesia's lips quirked into a faint smile.

The control room of Talta was surprisingly small, considering that all the artificial functions of the planet from gravity to the rotation of the small faux sun were monitored and tweaked from here.

"Warlord," The greeting was cordial with a hint of animosity one would expect from the next in line for command. The Vice-Admiral beneath Gallen was older, much to his chagrin, than his senior officer. The hair upon his head had long since fled leaving behind aged lines and the remains of what was once a handsome face. "The Fleet has sent confirmation, they will meet us at rendezvous Six-Niner as scheduled."

"Make sure Zero-One is secured before we jump." Gallen ordered a lieutenant as he took his seat at the back of the room and glanced over the data screen set on each side of the chair. "Vice Admiral Hanar," The Warlords steely gaze finally acknowledged his second in command. "Please fetch our guest and make sure she is properly attired."

The Vice-Admiral gritted his teeth and then snapped to attention before leaving the control room to run the errand fit for an ensign. The video-feed on one of the monitors showed the lab, although it looked far more like a containment area, where Zero-One rested between missions. He stood, adorned eternally it seemed in armour that inspired fear on sight while lab-techs began the task of removing the heavily Beskar reinforced gear from his six foot frame. In each corner of the room laser turrets remained fixed upon the docile form and a line of twelve storm troopers, all with weapons raised, faced the result of Imperial brilliance.

As the armour was stripped away raven hair could be seen and eyes that were unnaturally green, that seemed to shine with an inner brilliance that was a by-product of his creation. The face was olive in complexion, smooth and without lines, his body hard and limbs muscled. This was the result of ten years of genetic tampering of men of science playing gods and Gallen viewed their work with reverence and awe.

"Sit." A lab tech commanded and, his armour gone and only a skin tight dark blue fibre mesh under suit upon his skin, Zero-One obeyed instantly descending gracefully onto the large mechanical chair, although its size and bulk was much more reminiscent of a steel throne. Immediately holographic screens flashed to life all around it, taking readings from its occupant. "Rest time." Was the next order and the vibrant green eyes closed to the world.

"Lady," murmured an unfamiliar voice; the sound of it some where between a man's and a child's. Only offering a cant of her head at first, the young woman smiled sheepishly. It had seemed the green officer forgotten his task as the neatly folded garb slipped from his uncallused, princely-like hands. With practiced, fluid movements, she caught them and her jungle green eyes scrolled up to his name badge. "Jenkins."

Finally Officer Jenkins had blinked, having realized the lady was mere inches away. "Thank you," she paused, pulling the trousers on and buttoning and zipping them up. From under the fall of deep brown lashes, Anesia watched him curiously. Watched the affect she had him and stifled a laugh. "That will be all, Officer." She had pulled the too-starched gray dress shirt on, tucked it in and frowned when the last of the top would not button. He was still standing there and when she thought she might comment, he spoke. "Nicholas..." he cleared his throat, "and I am to inform you that Warlord Gallen requests your presence."

While slipping the heels on, she thought how odd it was that they knew her size. "Noted, Officer Jenkins." Anesia did not ask him to move or leave, she merely went around him.

Either he assumed she was going to Gallen or he was watching her backside. The thought disappeared as soon as it came and she focused on the task holding higher priority. The experiment.

The clicks of her heels resounded in light taps that seemed to echo the halls. Mimicking those who walked the very halls, she has straightened her posture as she moved. The closer to the labs, the more anxious she got. Detailed security held more of a presence and Anesia held her chin a little bit higher.

As she approached the elevators, the commed voice of a Trooper pulled at her attention. "This elevator is for authorized personnel only." It sounded so recorded, she stilled and stared a little blankly.

"Are you authorized?" she questioned, curious but not.

Had she been able to see his expression hidden by his helm, she would have choked with laughter. "Of course you are. Silly me. I need to speak to Zero-One. It will only take a few moments."

His head shook and the Trooper straightened a little. "That is Warlord Gallen's call, ma'am, not mine."

"He is otherwise occupied in a rather important meeting. We have," she leaned closer and glanced around before continuing in a whisper, "entire fleets of the Empire hunting us. I would rather not bother him with something so minuscule. If you would like to, feel free." Anesia pretended a shiver and eased the Force into his mind for reassurance. The glow of her eyes penetrating the mask, the fear.

After all, she was but a woman. No harm done.

The Trooper seemed to think about it and instead of the "auto-play" tone, she received something akin to human, "Proceed." He stepped aside, allowing her access and entrance to the elevator proclaimed as authorized. Down two levels and then out and to the immediate right.

"I have a private message for Professor Heckle," she explained to the Trooper decorating the door before he could ask of her business. Then, she stood as if waiting. "It is urgent. Can you please see to it that he comes quickly."

A flickered gaze of green took in the Mandolorian in meditation, knowing it was him even though he was not fashioning his armor . Anesia had stayed her vision there for coupled moments, visualizing the battle a hour or so beforehand. The only thing that caused her to tear her attention away was the face of an aging man coming into view.

Steps were taken aside and away from the nearest Trooper and words were dropped below that of a whisper. The Professor shook his head, his eyes widened, but then even he was careful to shield them from the Troopers. "This way," Heckel's voice had bounce to it with power braided there and so... so much knowledge.

They had both stepped through the sliding doors without so much as move made from the guards. She could still feel there unease and unwavering weariness of her.

Those eyes became wondrous gems, appraising and appreciative of what the lab held. There was no doubt. Not a shred. Anesia had turned then, "Mandolorian."

If Anesia thought her movements were not watched then she was as naive as she was young. All along the corridors micro-dot cameras tracked her and even more so in the lab which had far more security than even the central command centre of the Worldcraft.

Gallen watched with an impenetrable expression on his face, his eyes gliding over the monitors as she moved beyond the previous cameras sight and onto the next before she came to the lab itself. It was as the master mind behind Project Omega entered the lab that the Vice-Admiral returned. "It would seem our guest has taken a tour of the facilities."

Hanar stiffened immediately and floundered for an apology or explanation but Gallen waved his fear away. "He does seem to breed curiosity, doesn't he?" The Warlord appeared to be speaking to himself, rather than his second in command and returned to the monitor with Zero-One upon it.

"Its a weapon, nothing more, sir." There was contempt there, that had been constant ever since Hanars posting to Talta before the fall of the Emperor. He did not agree with the work done here, could not believe that one single being could cost more than three Executor Class Star Destroyers and warrant the best and brightest minds in the known Galaxy.

"All weapons hold a certain curiosity and the most destructive, the more dangerous the closer we wish to get. Like moths to the flame." The Warlord straightened in his seat and his face grew serious again. "Send an escort to the Lab, when our guest has concluded her business with the good professor she is to be brought here immediately."

Professor Heckle looked the young women over, noted the attention she paid to his creation as they stepped through the doors and then took a seat behind a cream wood desk, he motioned toward the chair facing him and let one thin dark eyebrow cock. "He won't answer you, he isn't even aware you exist." This was perhaps a touch harsh and would have been in any other context but he spoke only facts. Zero-One was designed to take orders, to complete a mission, anything or anyone out with those boundaries was but a speck of useless information.

"What can I help you with, young lady? Homework perhaps? Or perhaps you have a booboo you'd like me to attend to? Hmm?" Only his eyes showed any kind of mirth, his thin lips remained expressionless.

"I know," she answered, curiosity wiped clean from any other sound that came from her. "Creation he might be," one that obeyed without question, "but such a being should have a name." The striking emerald gaze slid to the professor. And yet, they practically enslaved him. Unwavering loyalty for what?

Perhaps it was that they did not want him to be real; at least not in all sense of the definition. "I have been to this place he goes," Anesia touched the devil's mind softly through the Force, knowing it to be impenetrable. If only to know it. Protection, she breathed, but they would not know that. Her hand waved as if to have the comment dismissed.

Soft, pale red lips pulled to the right, smirking. "A booboo? I can attend to those myself far better than any in the galaxy." She had stepped away from Zero-One and pivoted towards the good Professor. Anesia was not here for the Mandolorian, only in part. "I am rather interested in cross-genetics of this prototype and one holding a pheromone descent."

A single slender finger tapped her own nose, "There is something missing though." Thin brows furrowed in thought and she nodded her head to herself. "Mmmm... limitations. Pity." It was the Worldcraft's lab. Not Professor Heckle's.

There was nothing like being held back in knowledge to a scientist. That was how they became mad.

"He is not a pet, child, nor is he one of us." Heckle allowed one of his fingers to play absent-mindedly with a sheet of flimsiplast. "He is a tool or a weapon, a monster or a god depending on which side of the theological fence you fall on. More than that, I am not at liberty to say." The finger moved from the sheet, filled with illegible scrawl, to a datapad that he picked up and without a glance, put down at the opposite side of the desk.

"Would you like to see where he goes?" Without awaiting an answer and ignoring the question of his constructions make up he tapped lightly upon the touch screen set into his desk. Immediately a screen of light slipped between them, light green in colour the image swirled and then solidified. What they saw was the very room in which they sat.

"Curious," Heckle mused, tapping a few more keys that rewound the image. It played backwards but it was clear that since they had touched down upon Talta Zero-One had remained entirely focused upon Anesia and her movements. The recording stopped and all they could see were the tinted slits of the warriors helm and Warlord Gallens final command. "Heh, I was worried for a second." That said, he shut down the link.

"He's always watching, there is no where you can hide. Not from him." The Professor boasted but underlying that was a hint of fear. Perhaps behind the pride there was an inkling of regret, even disgust at their hubris. There were lines that men were not meant to cross.

"As to his cross-breeding. You are thinking too large. It took trillions upon trillions of DNA molecules, chosen and disregard, syphoned and modified to create what you see out there. The perfect soldier." Then, he stood. "And that, dear lady, is the end of Super Soldier 101. A tour guide will show you out." He smiled as the door slid open and two storm troopers stepped inside.

"Ma'am." One said and motioned toward the door.

That is why you ride the fence, she reflected and why you are the one who flips the coin, not the one guessing. Anesia mussed her dark hair, letting her fingers rake through it. Her lids were at half mast, but her gaze was filtering the room and not the air screen he conjured from his data pad. There was no use in seeing where Zero-One went, the lady would find out one day. Seeing through other being's eyes was not exactly something she needed to check off her bucket list. In fact, it was creepy.

Instead, Anesia mentally logged the Professor's writings placed here and there. She would find out what was missing. As if she'd been paying attention the entire time, the guest nodded all the while absorbing voices, statements- even the scent of the air. Thin, fragile fingers wriggled and faint Force power caused the sheet of flimsiplast to flip and swirl slowly.

"Whose hiding?" she asked curious, because she was doing anything but. Crystal green duos gave the ruse that she was staring at him. In reality, Anesia was memorizing those fingerprints the plast had from it's previous holder. It soon fell back in to place.

Anesia side-glanced to the specimen in question, "I would have to agree with you, good doctor. It is too broad- too large of a concept," mischief lingered in her cool gaze, satisfaction emptying from her mouth, "for the perfect soldier."

The Nagai-Zeltron turned on her heel and walked across the prison's floor. "I enjoyed our little chat, Heckle," the woman stopped, glancing back; her eyes were a smoldering ivy. "We will have to do it again sometime soon."

She bid them farewell, blowing both kisses on pheromone laced air that escaped her siren mouth- more so than what had already been shed with her just being in the room and shedding the emotions she had. Even with the metaphysical walls she had up, some how, the Mandolorian seemed to reach past them. The defense mechanism had been activated.

"Sir," she acknowledged, walking past the Troopers. Their helms perhaps saving them from a healthy dose of lust, craving, desire... madness. He had reached for her arm to escort her and she gave him an icy look. "I wouldn't."

The journey to Warlord Gallen was short, but alas she had came and albeit with appropriate attire on. "Warlord Gallen."

The Professor gave her a nod that could have been dismissive or otherwise and returned to his works. The storm troopers walked along silently with Anesia and as they came to the Talta control room they broke off to the side to take up positions facing the bank of consoles.

"Lady Jyvun," Gallen said finishing his conversation with a tech. "Did you enjoy your tour?" He asked with an inquisitive brow raise.

"Adjusting course two-three-zero." A navigational officer said, purely out of habit than anything else and the worldcraft slowed from lightspeed and then fired off again. the course was never predetermined, it was always in some way randomized. It was the way they stayed off the radar and were never tracked or targeted.

"Now tell me, what can I do for you?"

Before meeting Gallen's inquisitive gaze, something akin to a smile approached her full lips. Anesia's cold green stare upon a trooper darkened her features. "I still have much to tour, Warlord," certainty oozed and then fell from her mouth. Her own thin dark brow larked and her sights trickled to the master of the worldcraft. "Until then..."

As if practiced, her light footing led her towards the navigation deck where she watched- studied the motions of that crew as if they were operation manuals. "That depends on what you are capable of and..." Anesia breathed a sigh, "and what services you make available to me."

The same trooper was staring a hole through her- she could feel the burn at the back of her skull- even though he was ghosted by his helm. Eyes forward, soldier. The Force voice spoke softly, promising without promising passion. He yearned for which he did not have.

"I do have a small request," finally she turned, facing Gallen and all his cool superiority, "training with Zero-One... or the tool as the Professor so neatly put it." Her hands disappeared within the folds of her cloak as she awaited a response, her eyes never wavering this time.

Gallen leaned back in his seat and crossed one leg over the other as he scrutinized the teenager, for what he wasn't quite sure of himself but such a request was unthinkable. That she had even been allowed here, to one of the galaxies most secret facilities and to have seen one of the Empires most closely guarded secrets was beyond what he would usually allow but he needed the connections her Master had and the only way to get to them was through her. After all, he did not have Imperial Intelligence a com away anymore. No, war was not just fought with blasters and Star Destroyers. The very course of a conflict could shift dramatically from a single death at a certain time, executed by a quiet and untraceable assassin.

That should have given him enough pause but there were other implications to consider, moral ones that shouldn't bother a soldier such as himself, a commander of two decades who's decisions on a daily basis were the thin line between life and death for those who served under him. He looked at this girl and he saw she was broken, he saw that she had never lived the life she should have and when he did he thought of his own daughters who were not much younger and the thought of pitting them against that...thing, filled his throat with bile.

It wasn't just Zero-Ones mastery of the force that the "great" minds of the Empire had bestowed upon him, after they broke away from the crumbling remains of Palpatines regime they had seen their share of combat and he had utilized Zero-One on one such occasion against a band of Pirates in the Rim worlds. He had never though it possible that a human being could rip a beings head from its shoulders and a Wookiee no less. After that, after seeing just how efficiently this genetic marvel went about its task he had only used him sparingly when it was a complete last resort. A being who deals out death and destruction with the cold efficiency of a machine was not something to be toyed with.

"No." He responded, with finality. She didn't need to know the reason, one of the benefits of standing at the top was that you never needed to answer to anyone. Even if you did so to save their life.

Within the sleeves of her cloak, she had gripped her wrists- Anesia had done so, like a love-starved girl- until they became numb. From there, her nails that were embedded in her flesh woefully fled. The only thing that kept her from throwing a tell-tale tantrum was the tingling sensation brought on by recent blood flow to her arms. Fingers wriggled in the confines of attire, willing the life back into them. "No," repeated the guest even as the feeling came back in her hands and arms finally.

There were other ways, Anesia thought madly.

Even though the young woman had been woven from the womb from the very fibers of the Force and then trained to master it, she was still young. All the life lessons had yet to make an appearance; her full potential had not even begun to grace the galaxy.

Anesia knew she was being allowed here. It was not everyday that just anyone could happen upon a Worldcraft. Or wander nearly freely about it. "Knowledge is never free," facing the navigation deck again, her eyes scrolled the view port, taking in the stars. It would not be long until he found them- it never was. "You have family, yes?" Anesia said without looking at him. She did not have to. "Ahh, of course. Any true militia type must leave a legacy."

Her sigh was forlorn, but for what was unknown. "You do realize that Zero-One is necessary in being able get the information you desire? Of course you do." Motions were fluid and she moved past the guards, "They will not do," her eyes lightened a fair few shades, "neither will you."

There was no insult there, only cold truth and Anesia moved closer to Gallen once more. "Have you any idea what a connection between a Master and a... student is? You will not get the information or connections you desire without me and if he -and he will- knows you are, he will snatch it away or worse, manipulate it." She rocked on her feet, clearly agitated.

"I will have to have time with Zero-One. He is the only one that I could make capable of giving you what you desire. You are a great and powerful man, Gallen, to that I have no doubt. See this through. He is the only one with the ability. The quicker you accept that, the better off we will all be."

The certainty in her voice stopped and she turned, heading to her cabin. "When you are ready to negotiate, send Zero-One to me." Her words lingered, but the dark young woman was already gone from sight.

The question jarred him and he felt his jaw set. The transparency of her intent was clear, people like her manipulated to achieve their goals. Whether through blackmail, threats or flattery she would do anything to get her way.  Despite himself and the silent rage of his wounded pride, he couldn't fault her logic.  There were many reasons why he should flush that..creature... out of an airlock and yet he had stayed his hand all this time. It was a weapon, a tool, to achieve his ambition. It was true that he had little knowledge about the Force or the shadow war that had been fought for millennia between the Sith and the long dead Jedi. If the soulless monster was the key then he had no choice but to follow Anesia's council.

"Professor?" Gallen said, into his comm.

"Yes sir?" Was his response.

"Is it stable?"

"Resting but otherwise exhibiting no anomalous readings."

"Good, I'm sending down an escort. Our friend has a date..."

The all too never-ending corridors, silver and reflective- her cameras like mechanical foliage draping the tops of the walls every twenty meters, beckoning at every corner. A Worldcraft by classification; the description eluding to great potential, perhaps peace- a place among places, and yet hidden and ever moving. It was not bound by the pull of moons, suns, or stars. These are what it continuously traveled, cloaked and armed to the teeth. Though it was true enough that where it resided relied on the Galaxy and by the Force. Then again everyone, everything was. This monstrous-made machine was one-of-a-kind. Anesia had seen nothing of the kind.

It was new and intriguing.

Zero-One was...

"We'll have to go planet-side soon," she pointed out, even so much as throwing a finger in an albeit random direction. There had been someone licking at her heels since she left the presence of the Warlord. Perhaps they were trained to go unseen and unheard. Just perhaps. Though Anesia had doubted their trainers had The Force in mind when they did.

The pitter-patter of his heart skipped a beat and raced for less than a handful of seconds.  Instead of walking with uncertainty, Lady Jy'Vun stopped abruptly and turned on the heels of her boots, "Where might there be a physical training area?" The look she got in return was of surprise, though he recovered quickly. Good for him.

The man's stance straightened and he began to utter directions. Thin, dark brows arose and she shook her head, "You were obviously sent to keep an eye on me," pausing, she stepped aside, giving him room to move past her, "so, that is exactly what you're going to do. Now, take me to the physical training area of this beast."

The guide's comm went off.