That Did Not Go As Calculated

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Refferrer's Name: Your name.
Patient's Name: Name of injured character.
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Kayda
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That Did Not Go As Calculated

Post by Kayda » 2012-07-02 02:57

Refferrer's Name: Captain Ramses - NIF Second Fleet, Harrow-class Star Destroyer Sanguinary
Patient's Name: Kayda
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Affiliation: New Imperial Federation Privateer, Commander of the Black Nebula Pirates, Captain of the Vibre-class Assault Carrier Orcrist.
Health Status/Injury: Stable. Given bacta treatment at cost to patient aboard the Victorious.
Reason of Hospitalization: Internal bleeding from concussive force caused by massive explosion. Embedded shrapnel from aforementioned explosion. Gunshot wounds to torso.

Doctor Greystrom stared at the datapad for a minute, reviewing the patient's chart before looking inside the bacta tank where his transfer patient floated, submersed in the clear bacta. After the New Republic invasion, a lot of wounded were quickly being rushed around and allocated to the various surviving vessels and facilities, medical fleets called in from distant corners of NIF space to help tend to the sudden influx of injured while prefab bases and even civilian hospitals were suddenly forced to take in priority patients in what was the second largest logistical nightmare right after the response to the invasion itself. He didn't care that the woman in the tank wasn't actually a Federation soldier, his oaths swore him to treat anyone, even the enemies of the military he was employed with but that didn't stop some of the comments and scrutiny from the other patients and officers who somehow found out she wasn't actually with the NIF military.

It's not like the credits are coming out of their pockets, but I can see their point, the Doctor thought, choosing wisely to not get involved in the whole debate. He had a job to do and as he checked over the latest update, his job got a little more intriguing. The woman had regained consciousness and though her injuries were hardly the sort that would have killed her without immediate treatment, the fact she was actually awake already, only a day after being immersed in the tank, was impressive. They had used the recycled bacta on her, reserving the more pure stuff for the actual soldiers and crew in the NIF proper and yet, the woman was somehow able to heal faster than any of the others with similar injuries.

"Hello Doctor Greystorm," the woman's voice began, transmitted through a small speaker on the outside of the bacta tank, a microphone in the breathing mask affixed to her face inside. "I trust everything is okay?" It came out more like a statement than a question, as though she already knew what the charts said.

"You're healing remarkably fast Miss Kayda..." He pressed his lips together, feeling a little uneasy using her first name when addressing her but that was the only name that was passed down and recorded on the records and she had yet to correct him or give him her last name. The ISIS had also given her the necessary clearance to be given treatment, background checks coming back clean- for a pirate- and the Doctor knew better than to question the judgement of the agency. "I was told you wanted to speak with me?"

"I do." There was a long pause. "How bad were my injuries? Did I need any surgery?"

Greystrom shook his head. "It was considered but it was decided that a full bacta treatment would be faster and more efficient for you though... To be honest, we didn't imagine it would go this quickly."

"I see..." there was a note in her voice that hinted she wasn't entirely convinced about his statement, or that she knew he was holding something back, which she did. The surgeons and medical droids, like the fresh bacta, were needed on the higher priority troops and officers first and foremost and if nothing else, the recycled bacta treatment was geared to be used as a stopgap, something to keep her stable and possibly help the natural healing process as the doctors worked on the others first.

"You should be good to go within the next half day or so... Although..." This was where Greystrom paused. He was a medical scientist by trade, working more in R&D than as an actual doctor- once again, the aftermath demanded all hands on deck- and he was very much intrigued about the patient in the tank. "Although, I was wondering if I could run a few extra tests."

"For?"

"To see the root cause behind that accelerated healing."

There was a long pause before the woman in the tank responded and when she did it was in a dry tone. "I'd rather speak with your superior officer in charge of this vessel than explain myself."

The Doctor frowned, clearly taken aback by the curt request. "And why would you want to speak with him?"

"I need not explain myself. Whether or not you choose to humour my request is entirely your decision, however one way or another, I will be out of this tank. How hostile I am will depend entirely upon your actions."

"You do of course realize you're on a Federation military ship..."

"I am aware of my situation doctor. I am also aware of my rights as both a privateer and citizen of the New Imperial Federation and I am in no way obligated to agree to your tests and I would like to have an impartial, ranking officer present so that this is known for the record as doctor-patient confidentially agreements do extend to medical centers and sick bays aboard vessels." It was a lot to say all at once but the woman in the tank seemed to speak it in one breath, leaving the Doctor with little choice. Turning, he made for the door, taking the chart with him.

"I'll see what I can do then." He departed and began preparing his case, knowing the research benefits that could be unlocked for the NIF as a whole if he could figure out the secrets behind whatever allowed her to heal so quickly. Surely the Commodore will see the usefulness of it.

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Re: That Did Not Go As Calculated

Post by Kyle Morrison » 2012-07-08 03:31

Doctor Greystrom was beginning to wear very much on Kyle's nerves, and the commodore could do no more at this point than blame himself for allowing the audience in the first place. Already, he'd reached no fewer than three times for the bottle of vodka on his desk, as though even so little as a single sip would make this meeting infinitely more tolerable; in truth, only a generous helping would have a hope of making it a slight nuisance, especially with the doctor stopping him every time he went to pour a glass. ...Something about the alcohol not being good for his 'recovery'. "And listening to you whine is beneficial to me, comrade doctor?" he asked in an irritated tone, no small amount of frustration showing in the look on his face, in his eyes.

"Sir, I just--"

Raising a hand to interrupt the research specialist, Kyle let out a low, drawn-out sigh, this time finally just reaching for the drink and pouring a full fifth of vodka into his glass. "You just wanted to experiment on someone, is all." Disregarding the silent look of protest, he took a sip from the glass of potent alcohol, trying his hardest to savor it. "Let me be clear, doctor," he began, suppressing his anger just a little. "This patient of yours may well have some wonderful gift that could indeed benefit the Federation well, but you have no right whatsoever to compel her to undergo these tests... Hell, your recount of the occasion makes me believe that youfeel she should offer herself to these tests as payment for being treated. Are you really so callous as to believe that?"

The doctor blinked once before shaking his head, stammering. "N-no, sir, I--"

"I didn't think so, comrade. Now..." As calmly as he could, he pulled out a flask and began pouring some of the vodka into it, starting with what remained of his tumbler. "I will meet with this woman. For her sake as much as for mine, busy yourself with another patient." Sealing and pocketing the flask, Kyle grabbed the datapad that Greystrom had brought to the meeting, taking a good look at it as he began to move for the door. It was as he read it that a strange thought crossed his mind, and a memory of earlier in his career, around the time of his second wife. "Doctor Greystrom...how certain are you, exactly, that this woman is human?"

For once, the doctor sounded confident. "Completely, sir," he responded.

"Interesting, comrade doctor...interesting, indeed." Smiling to himself as he made his way out of the office and towards the turbolift down to the medical ward, Kyle tried his hardest to fight back a chuckle. "A human that somehow recovers faster than anything else like her...and according to your report, can deliver a long-winded speech without even pausing for breath." The smile on his face takes on a brief, knowing look. "Somehow, comrade doctor, I think you deal with more than you know."

The trip down the turbolift had been silent, at Kyle's explicit request. To say he wanted the doctor to shut up was an understatement; he was still regretting the earlier audience, and was grateful to have something to read to more decidedly occupy his attention. Sipping every so often from the flask he had brought with him, the commodore read until the lift came to a stop, absorbing as much information about this mystery woman as he could.

Still, for all the information that the paperwork had provided, none of it meant anything compared to a direct, personal meeting. For this, there was something to be said for the convenience of comfort, and as Kyle passed through the medical ward, comfort was the last thing he felt...and, he could imagine, the last thing that his guest could imagine out of the situation. Passing by her bacta tank, he took a brief look before turning his attention to the attending doctor, his earlier smile gone. "Get her out of the tank," he said calmly, leaving no chance for argument or inquiry; as soon as he was finished issuing the order, he was making his way towards a separate office in the infirmary, waiting for the freelancer to be let out and brought to him. It was his hope and intent that she would at least take this as a more comfortable and personable set of circumstances than chatting through the speaker system built into the mask inside the miserable tank...

...and if his read of the woman's medical report was any good, she was strong enough to be let out early, anyway. It was a matter in which he had...'plenty' of personal experience.

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Kayda
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Re: That Did Not Go As Calculated

Post by Kayda » 2012-07-08 06:43

Humans always spoke of what Kayda had come to define as a "transition period", a time of varying length between when they slipped to unconsciousness from their injuries to when they were awake and fully aware of their situation, usually immersed in a bacta tank like she was at this very moment. They spoke of occasionally seeing people, movement, sometimes loved ones or their life flash before their eyes as they went from a semi-conscious state to a dream and back, the number of times seldom staying the same between people or incidents. They would tell of feeling lighter than air or weighed down as though a Star Destroyer were sitting on top of them or out of body experiences where they were seeing themselves on the operating table.

For Kayda however, there was no dream state, no transition period. For her, the last recorded memory she possessed was back on the bridge of the New Republic CC-9600, a mutiny between her crew having been just put to an end though she wasn't sure what had happened since then because her processor was forced to shut down before it suffered irreversible damage and potential memory loss or data corruption. There were times she thought about trying to add redundancies or some form of backup but, sadly, the knowledge of her construction was only enough to allow her the means of self-repair as opposed to duplication. The next instant, she was restarting and found herself submerged in a bacta tank and while it seemed like an instantaneous transition, it was actually a full six days, seven hours, fifty-two minutes, thirty-seven seconds and one-hundred-and-two milliseconds after the hibernation sequence was initiated.

Her first cognitive thought now that she was aware of how long she had been incapacitiated was the wonderment, and susequent calculations about the outcome of the mission, the fate of the surviving members of her crew, the Orcrist itself and the Lancer-class frigate she had left behind at Point Nadir, using her considerable earnings to pay for the rent and a guard detail that would last her four months and nine days before she would have to put down another large sum deposit into the galactic bank account to maintain the costs. After that, it was a series of self-diagnoses, CPU tests, memory checks and other cognitive scans to make sure that no data was corrupted and also, above all else, that the New Imperial Federation hadn't attempted to modify or change any of her programming.

Had she waited about half an hour, she would have been able to save herself the trouble when a man (human) approached and started speaking, revealing that he- and the rest of the medical staff it could be assumed with 99% confidence- still thought she was human. However the quick healing factor didn't exactly help mark her as markedly different and Kayda had noted that a few times in the past when she was given bacta treatments. She usually explained it away as a slight genetic disorder that was found in an incredibly small fraction (0.000000001%) of the galaxy's population. She didn't to Doctor Greystorm as he appeared to be more a research doctor than a medical one and being used as a lab experiment was counterproductive in exactly fifteen ways.

Talking with the doctor, she was a little surprised at how slow he was to get her message across and she very much doubted he got it still but such was stubbornness, it made them blind and deaf to all reason. Still, Doctor Greystrom did with a pair of stormtroopers and a man she did not recognize though the rank plaque on his uniform clearly marked him as a Commodore, a distinguished and difficult to attain rank from what she could recall about the old Empire. He was direct and to he point when he spoke, talking to the medical protocol droids in a curt voice as was typical of all humans who tended to have little to no respect for them. A pair of mechanical hands reached into the tank and grasped around her forearms before pulling her up so she could support herself on the ledge of the platform, pulling the breathing mask off her face with one hand, the RA-7 medical protocol took it from her before helping her up the rest of the way out of the tank.

"A smock is on the table for you," the droid said, gesturing to a small table at the base of the steps by the tank. The standard bra and panties most likely wasn't the best outfit to be talking to a Commodore of a warship in, but then again, a smock was probably just as awkward. Glancing around the room, she saw two more bacta tanks on either side of the one she was atop of, all of them empty, but otherwise the room was empty with only three doors, one of which was a double door to accommodate larger species.

An aftermarket add-on it would seem. Not seeing what she was looking for, she asked the droid, "Do you by chance have the garments I was admitted here in somewhere?"

"Negative. Records indicate most of your garments were damaged by blaster fire and showed signs of significant charring. It was therefore advised they be discarded and a temporary outfit will be issued to you just before formal release."

In short, Kayda was stuck putting on the white smock. It was worth a shot though, had she been in the same situation, she would have also thrown out the clothes if they were in as rough as shape as indicated. Putting it on quickly, she then approached the guards, one of whom quickly ran a scan of her. She frowned little, unable to help but wonder what they thought would have changed between when she was taken aboard the vessel to now. Surely they would have found the hidden compartment? Or had they not even bothered scanning her? Whatever the case, the sensor, as predicted, came back negative.

"Come with us," the stormtrooepr commanded, leading the way to a small side office where the Commodore waited patiently.

Though protocol dictated she salute the man, the benefit of knowing she was not actually a part of the military structure helped override the sub-routine. "Commodore," she began, inclining her head as a measure of respect for the officer in front of her. "I wish I could be speaking to you under better circumstances... and in a state of better dress." He didn't seem to even notice she was wearing a hospital smock, and bade her to continue. "I'm Kayda, leader of the Black Nebula Pirates and unfortunately I do not possess the letter of Marque to prove it as it was in my normal outfit which I believe was tossed into the trash compactor shortly after my admission into this facility."

She blinked once, taking a brief moment to pause for effect, another one of those human traits that she tried to incorporate into normal, everyday behavior. "I have two requests to make of you, the first..." she looked back out near the door she had entered the office from, where Doctor Greystrom was standing. "The Doctor has requested my assistance with some medical testing he wishes to perform." Her eyes turned back to the Commodore. "I respectfully declined however he seems to be persistent so I requested the presence of a senior officer to pass final judgement as I believe that's how the regulations go." Though she could have quoted the exact location of the regs, having found a copy of the exhaustive NIF rulebook which made for a good solid two straight days of reading, Kayda kept it simple. Either the Commodore would know the section, or he wouldn't but whether or not he did was irrelevant as he had the authority to pass final judgement anyways. This rule was often circumvented in the old Galactic Empire, usually be ISS agents who would whisk away useful subjects before anyone was even aware of their existence but only extremely exceptional people fell under that particular category and the New Imperial Federation was under a lot more scrutiny these days it seemed.

"Commodore," Doctor Greystrom made one last ditch plea for his case, "Imagine the medical secrets that could be unlocked. Please Sir, the potential is right here."

"Potential that would be wasted in the face of more exhaustive research in the fields of genetic experimentation." Kayda was still leery about being blunt to the assembled in the room, estimating a 44% probability that they would go ballistic if they found out she was really a droid as droids had a long penchant for being little more than assassins and, as the old human saying went, she could very well be a rancor in bantha's clothing.

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Re: That Did Not Go As Calculated

Post by Kyle Morrison » 2012-07-10 04:26

Waiting in the office, Kyle found himself once again reading through the dossier that had been compiled on this 'Kayda' woman, each and every paragraph bringing to him at least some additional knowledge of the individual...though he doubted she was so much an 'individual' as instead more of a uniquely, individually designed machine.  The doctor's observations from when she had awakened were the most substantial measure of evidence he had in that regard--however slight--and everything in the womam's record was leading to that conclusion...or was it entirely possible that he was leading it along out of his own suspicions?  Regardless, the information was there, and he was eager to get to the bottom of it.

There was just one thing that threw the entire theory awry: the Orcrist.  A ship alone, he could understand, though the use of a Vibre seemed unorthodox; but manning it with a crew all her own didn't seem to fit in well with an HRD unit, and he had to admit that he was hard-pressed to come up with any possible reason the droid would select organic crewmembers to any degree over fellow automatons.  An old friend had once told him that the answer could be found by removing the illogical, and seeing what remained.  He was finding it difficult, however, in this particular case, to discern illogical and merely improbable.

Sighing, he turned to eye the doorway as it opened, flask of vodka in one hand and datapad in the other.  When his guest finally walked in, he turned further, to properly face her, out of respect.  Calmly, he listened as she spoke, not interrupting...though seeing the doctor take position at the door had him ready to, at any rate.    Patiently, he stood there taking note of what the woman said, occasionally swilling down a sip of his drink; twice, he noted to himself, she managed to speak long enough that someone else would have paused for breath...twice, on top of the once confirmed by the doctor.  That was his evidence, clear-cut and right from the source.

Ciara 2.0... he thought, at least fortunate that this machine was not, in fact, the executive assistant to His Royal Majesty.  Nodding once to Kayda, he turned his attention first and foremost to Doctor Greystrom, and with that attention came all of his fury, as contained as he could keep it for the sake of this meeting.  "Doctor," he began, a tight scowl forming, "on our way down here, my explicit orsers were for you to busy yourself with another patient.  I do not appreciate my orders being so blatantly ignored, especially when there are others in need of medical attention.  GET OUT..."  The slight rise in his tone was rivaled by the anger in his eyes.  "...and if you are not at work helping another patient in the next fifteen seconds, I will have you tossed in the brig for the night!" The commodore didn't even bother to look at Kayda for the next few seconds, finally returning his attention to her once Greystrom was off and busying himself, visibly deflated by what looked to be his defeat. As though already aware of his orders, the stormtroopers at the door moved to stand watch over the doctor, to ensure that he didn't cause any further disruptions.

When at last the man was gone, Kyle regarded Kayda calmly, his ice-blue eyes shimmering as though with some hidden knowledge. "Section 7, subsection C," he began, smirking just slightly, "paragraph 2. ...Or is that the one about proper dress for a meeting with a flag officer?" Casually, he placed the datapad and flask down, standing the latter upright on the desk near him, and walked over to Kayda, the smirk softening into a gentlemanly smile. "I suppose this is the best medical could do on short notice, so I'm not entirely worried about the lack of decorum." Despite the light intoxication from the drink, he managed to move fluidly as he gracefully bowed in greeting, still managing the same kind smile. "Commodore Kyle Morrison, commanding officer of Second Fleet. I dare say, you've made quite the impression on the doctor there...he seems to think you are possessed of some...well...mythical living remedy, or something like that." For a brief second, the commodore's expression soured, the smile vanishing. "I could easily let him conduct his experiments, but there's a good reason I don't: your rights as a private citizen of this Federation."

Just as quickly, the smile came back, once again cast as though it knew of something about the woman. "Though somehow, I suspect he wouldn't find what he seeks. I noticed it twice while he was here: you didn't pause for breath, yet you spoke more than enough to need such a pause. Tell me...and feel free to tell me plainly: are you really human, or something...else?" The gesture on his face was a calm, friendly one, conveying to the pirate that she didn't need to fear anything.

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Kayda
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Re: That Did Not Go As Calculated

Post by Kayda » 2012-07-11 01:46

Kayda regarded the Commodore for a moment when he made his observation about her having spoken without pausing for breath. Though she needed to breathe air like most organic beings in order to ensure the living tissue on her chassis didn't decay and die, the ultra-efficient cardiovascular system she did possess meant she could get more said per breath of air, especially as she didn't rely on the vocoders or speakers most droids did. She could tell the Commodore was suspicious even behind his friendly demeanor and she gave it a 90% probability he would need some serious convincing just to remove the thought that she wasn't entirely human from his head. By the same token however, she estimated he only had a 20% level of confidence that she wasn't human at all, his argument was all based purely around circumstantial evidence to begin with.

"An interesting question," she returned, resting her arm in one hand and touching her cheek with her index finger. "I can see how what Doctor Greystrom, and the way I speak, may lead you to ask that. I am human, albeit one who gets nervous in the presence of distinguished officers like yourself so I do tend to blather on with run-on sentences." Pressing her lips together, she adopted a slightly more worried expression, as though she were extremely hesitant about something. Taking in a deep breath, she said, "As for the bacta, it's true that I do possess a genetic defect, though one that also has an adverse side-effect regarding immunological suppression. I was already tested as a child so if Doctor Greystrom does some digging, he may find the relevant medical file."

Kayda didn't know precisely just how much of the various bits of research data from the Galactic Empire survived it's downfall. She also wasn't sure what Simonelle and Doctor Massad Thrumble had kept or destroyed or what pseudonyms they would have published their articles under, if any existed at all. "I'm sorry to disappoint you and the Doctor, Commodore, but I am what I am."

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Kyle Morrison
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Re: That Did Not Go As Calculated

Post by Kyle Morrison » 2012-07-18 04:09

For a few seconds, the commodore simply stood there, eyeing the woman before him calmly. Perhaps, as he stood there deliberating on what to do, she worried that he would somehow be convinced to try again with the doctor, grant him the one thing that he had madly wanted out of this incident. Doubtless, the consideration had briefly crossed the man's mind...but only insofar as he could reject it once more, wholly and utterly. His smile had faded slightly; with but a simple chuckle, it was back, and when he finally spoke again, it was in a cheerful tone, not at all that of an upset individual. "Your closing remarks," he began, bowing his head politely, "imply that there is something about which I should be disappointed, when in truth, there is not." As he continued, the kindness in his smile seemed only to grow, the smile widening just slightly. "You needn't worry; the doctor can do his research from afar. I won't be letting him lay so much as a finger on you...not unless it's absolutely vital for your survival."

Pulling another sip from the flask, Kyle turned away for a few seconds, wishing that this office had been built near the edge of the ship. Right now, he could use the view. "You mentioned," he resumed after a pause of a rather significant span of time, "that there was something else you wanted to ask of me." Slowly, he turned his head to look in Kayda's direction over his right shoulder, hands clasped behind his back as he stood at an otherwise-perfect example of parade rest. "I am listening, civilian...what would you ask of me?"

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Kayda
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Re: That Did Not Go As Calculated

Post by Kayda » 2012-07-19 03:03

"I did." Kayda nodded once, wasting no time getting to the real concern she had. "As you are well aware, I'm the leader of a group of pirates who are, in all actuality, former Imperials. I will not bore you with the details or backstory behind it all, but suffice to say, recent events have caused me to reevaluate the situation moving forward. Despite having a vessel optimized for piracy, the scarcity of replacement parts, coupled with the difficulty of finding quality and scrupulous crew with the training, education and discipline I have come to expect being a former agent of the Galactic Empire myself..." she paused, mostly for effect as she gazed away in an effort to try and convey some sense of difficulty even though there really wasn't any for her. "I would like to put in a formal request that I, along with any- and ideally all- of my willing crew, and our vessel, be reinstated into the New Imperial Federation."

Even before she asked, her mind had run through the possible outcomes and responses the Commodore would give. Though she rand the gambit of responses, the fact that they were all an even split with only fractions of fractions of percentage points difference between the highest and lowest probable reply categories meant there was no real harm in trying. It also helped that she saw there was nothing to lose in so trying. Worst case the officer would flat out decline- or laugh in her face with amounted to the same thing really- and she would have to proceed with plan B which would be an arduous task. It wasn't so bad that she had a lancer-class frigate sitting around, tucked away somewhere safe but without a crew and a very poor quality pool to draw from even the most optimistic and skewed of uncertainties didn't give her promising odds to get anything established.

Looking at the Commodore, she awaited his response. If he wanted a sales pitch, she'd give it to him if he asked, but not before as was learned the hard way in the past.
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Kyle Morrison
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Re: That Did Not Go As Calculated

Post by Kyle Morrison » 2012-08-08 02:41

One of the things that had taken the longest for Kyle to learn in his career was the powerful effect of sound in perception. Words could be taken to mean anything, but more often than not, they were made out just as much to be white noise as the actual words being spoken. Remaining silent, the commodore folded his hands together behind his back, assessing Kayda one last time with a critical eye...and an equally critical ear. It always struck him as odd, hearing of someone who had left something and then wanted back in; more so, when that time away was so long that the entire thing had changed from what they once knew. This was one of those times...when it was well beyond 'radical change'. This was more than something completely different; it was, for Kayda, a different galaxy entirely. Why she wanted back into it, Kyle would never understand.

The fact that she wanted back in, however, was enough for him. Saying nothing, he regarded her coolly, his face offering nothing to hint that he was deciding one way or the other. It was a ploy meant to make her wonder what was going to happen next, even if she was confident enough to already have an idea of what to expect. Still privately confident in his assertion of her machine-based 'heritage', he fancied that she already knew what was next, or at least had a very certain idea of it. Despite this, however, he continued with the silence for a few minutes, each second meant to draw out what, for a normal being, would have been sheer torment. Finally, however, he spoke...

...and when he did, his voice was perfectly calm, like a commander receiving a report from a junior officer. "You impress me in a way I hadn't really ever expected," he remarked at last, his body remaining at parade rest, hands clasped calmly behind him and posture perfectly straight. "You've fought for the Empire, on both sides of the scale: officer, and mercenary...and yet, you want back into the fold. Still you look for more." A sigh escaped him, one that sounded almost whimsical. "I'll leave it to you to rally your crew, when your strength returns. Inform them...

"...Inform them, that you all have my blessing." He nodded once, smiling. "Now...is there any other matter in which I may be of assistance?"

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Kayda
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Re: That Did Not Go As Calculated

Post by Kayda » 2012-08-08 04:24

That was easier than she had expected it to be. It was good, however, as it meant she wouldn't have to spend time trying to sell herself and her crew to the Commodore. She also didn't detect any reluctance from him, which meant more than just a few things but above all else it meant he had some degree of confidence, enough to not defer to a higher authority. He had lumped her in as a mercenary which she didn't feel to be entirely accurate but that would be splitting hairs as the expression went, the fact that she was still trying to serve the Empire, through the New Imperial Federation, was enough for him.

"Thank-you Sir," she began, already beginning the necessary processes to try and reestablish the necessary decor to fit back into the Empire. Saluting him, she continued, "I will inform them immediately after departing this vessel though there is one other matter that perhaps you could assist me on. I am unfamiliar with the necessary protocols needed to ensure I am registered in the New Imperial Federation properly. Further, I suppose I will need to be informed of my duty assignment."

The details, as Commodore Morrison would inform her, would be taken care of in due course, all she needed to do was make sure her crew was willing and prepared to make the transition back to working for the New Imperial Federation. Kayda accepted the terms and, with their business concluded to a mutual satisfaction, was granted permission to leave. The medical tests were waived and Kayda made haste back to the Orcrist, the vessel docked at Bilbringi undergoing some hasty repairs while the crew waited for their Captain to return. John met her at the spaceport, a glum expression on his face.

"How bad are things?" she inquired, already estimating the damages and losses far exceeding the price of whatever their captured frigate was worth.

"The ship's in not too bad shape though we're going to need to pay more than just a few premiums just to afford the material to patch her up back to full stealth rating again." John bit his lower lip. "The crew on the other hand..."

Morale was down, especially now, and the mood was somber at best, and as Kayda entered the ship, she could see the unhealthy mix of gazes. Several in the crew were missing altogether, dead from the attempted mutiny or from the fighting. Giving them all a level gaze, she began, "I know most of you are dissatisfied with my performance and handling of our recent operation. I won't make excuses nor am I going to try and lay the blame on anyone else. The fault is mine and mine alone, the loss of your friends, comrades and companions, can be squarely laid upon my shoulders.

"That being said, I talked with an officer in the New Imperial Federation and have established an agreement. I, and any one identified as being part of my crew, is welcome to join their military organization. What happens from there, whether or not you wish to transfer to another area or duty assignment, that will mostly be left up to them however the charges of treason that were laid upon all of you will be null and void."
Some of the expressions softened though several became a lot more annoyed or angered.

"This isn't what we were promised!" one of the soldiers from Black Platoon cried in outrage.

"Indeed it wasn't, but circumstances have changed beyond my control and, as it stands, there appears to be half of you wishing to return to the stable job of working for the Empire, while the other half of you have come to relish the freedom being a pirate has come to offer." She shook her head. "It is beyond my capacity to satisfy both parties so I picked the decision that gave us the best possible recourse."

"You did that over Bogden and look where it got us," another officer shouted, raising his fist and shaking it menacingly as though she could be somehow intimidated by it. "Now you're going to force us back into the Federation?"

"If you opt not to accept the offer, that's your decision. I will not force anyone here to come with me to the New Imperial Federation, but be aware, the Orcrist is coming with me." That got several people to become quite livid. Kayda's eyes narrowed. "You still have the Scarmiglione at Point Nadir and plenty of credits to fix it up to take on 95.4% of the New Republic convoys." That did little to placate the mob which rapidly dissolved into arguing as friends and comrades became hated enemies. It was disappointing to see how quickly they turned on each other after one unfortunate mission. Shaking her head in disgust, she looked at John who had much the same expression on his face. "What exactly happened when I was away?"

He snorted. "A long debate about replacing you as leader, as well as an even longer debate about what our next course of action would be." His expression softened a little as he looked at Kayda. "I had a feeling you'd be able to get us into the Federation but the many of the others didn't seem to hold that same opinion. They wanted to leave you behind."

"Can't say I'd have been surprised if you all had done that." The thought had crossed her mind, and while it was a very low probability, Kayda was more intrigued to see the division was almost evenly split amongst the crew. Reaching for her side arm, she pointed it into the air and fired a single shot, stopping the pointless banter between the crew in one point eight seconds flat. "I can tell you all have a difference of opinions so I'll make this simple. I will arrange for a transportation to take those of you not interested in joining the New Imperial Federation back to Point Nadir along with fifty-thousand of my credits to spend however you deem fit. I will meet you in the space port at exactly 0800 hours tomorrow morning.

"Those who do wish to work with the New Imperial Federation, stay aboard this vessel at the aforementioned time. If you cannot decide, I will make myself available to discuss the two options in greater detail if you so wish. Bear in mind, both decisions are final, if you decide later to go freelance, you will have to take it up with the Federation and vice versa."
Turning, she walked off, glad to not hear the bickering resume once again.
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"You want broke, blind, or bedlam?" - Basher, Ocean's Eleven

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