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| - The Logisteum is an impressive room, clearly made for serious work and serious discussions and often filled with uniforms of every rank. Just now, however, it's empty save for a single soldier who sits at a display screen, working furiously with a closed-off frown as she waits. Briseis leans into her screen and exhales a slow breath. Celis Dissek strides into the room--as ever, the man with the black suit, wearing his cocked hat and carrying a black leather briefcase. He pauses for just a moment as he enters the doors, as if to survey the (admittedly quite empty) room, before he strides towards the table. "Captain," he says, and sets the briefcase on the table. "I believe we have some things to discuss." "Mr. Dissek." Celis' name is automatic as Briseis swings back and around in her chair and rises swiftly to step toward him. She looks tired, but no longer exhausted, and her uniform is sharp once more. She gives him a weak smile and nods to the table in the middle of the room. "And it's more serious that chatter over drinks, I take it." "It cannot all be idle chatter and late-night drinks, I'm afraid. Eventually one must confront the world we live in. We have all made sacrifices, so that we can all, hopefully, gain." Celis flips the briefcase open and begins laying out several official-looking papers. "Do you recall a vessel which identified itself as the Gold Dragon at the recent battle over Alderaan?" "Pity," Briseis replies, her lips quirking in a faint, dry smile as she steps toward him to peer at the papers he's laid out. Her smile fades into a creased frown. "I do," she answers quietly. "Can you tell me what you know about this vessel, please? I promise there is a point to my questions." Celis at this point closes the briefcase and finishes adjusting the papers to look up at Briseis. One of the papers he has set out reads "GOLD DRAGON" in large print, followed by a few lines of smaller text. Briseis looks toward Celis in surprise, and then the worry in her expression increases. "The Gold Dragon? Not much, I'm afraid. It fought for us over Alderaan. Commanded by Mettius, President of Taanab. Why?" "Mettius, is it?" Celis raises an eyebrow and glances back down at the paper. "You may recall some comm chatter from a man imprisoned on the Gold Dragon asking for Republic protection from the captain. Shortly thereafter, his vessel, an MC-40 called the Second Chance, lifted off, and was summarily shot from space by the Gold Dragon." He looks up again. "Does this match your information?" Briseis draws a sharp breath in and nods, her gaze fixed firmly on the paper. "It does," she replies tersely. "I saw the ship destroyed." "I am going to play you a brief recording I have acquired," says Celis, uncovering a small datachip. "The first voice to speak will be that of the Captain of the Gold Dragon. The second belongs to Mr. Nyl Idant, the man who unsuccessfully made his bid for safety to the Republic." He sets the chip in a small device on the briefcase and hits a button. A voice is heard, distorted as if by loudspeaker, saying, "You have a choice. Pay a ransom and go free, or be turned over to the republic." The voice which responds says, "Then here's my offer: I don't give the Republic the tapes I've been making of this conversation, and you let me go free. Sound fair?" "Ah, fair enough. You'll die then." As this plays, Celis watches Briseis impassively. Slowly, Briseis' jaw tightens until her gaze is pure steel, colly furious. She glances carefully toward Celis. "How did you obtain these?" Celis turns the recording off and slips it back into its case. "I understand that Mr. Idant hoped to defect during the battle--he was the Captain of the Grandeur, you may recall. Prior to his involvement with the Black Empire he was an associate of mine on Cloud City, and he contacted me, knowing that my sympathies lay with the Republic, instructing me to meet him on Alderaan. He was somewhat vague as to the specifics." He pauses and steeples his fingers. "He sent me a hypercomm transmission with the recording. It is my understanding that he perished with the destruction of his ship, as I have not seen or heard from him since." Briseis lifts a hand to scrub at her eyes, and for a moment the steel fades in favor of a flicker of tiredness. When she lowers it again it's to straighten, firm once more. "That is unfortunate," she answers quietly. "The matter is already under investigation. Your evidence-- I'm sure it will be most useful." Celis seems to relax somewhat at this point, his posture slouching, massaging his temple with his left hand. "I will be giving these tapes to my contact in the Alderaanian Intelligence Agency. But I felt that, as a friend, you deserved to know what happened there. And I am doing some investigating on my own into Mr. Mettius--if you have any advice that you might be able to give me I would be most appreciative." Briseis' eyes darken as she looks at Celis and blows out a breath, shaking her head, "Be careful," she says simply. "You saw what happened on Alderaan with the capture of a Black Officer, Celis. And this man had the gall to directly contradict orders in front of half the Republic military. Just-- be careful." "I am starting to suspect that he may be hiding something beyond accepting bribes. I will let you know if I find anything further." Celis pauses for a moment, as if just registering something. "Actually, what did happen on Alderaan with the capture of a Black officer?" Briseis startles slightly, her chin lifting to study Celis as she lifts her hand to scrub it over her forehead. "They came after her," she says simply. "And ripped through half of Alderaan in the process. Snipers in the spaceport. Clones-- have you heard of their clones?" She shakes her head fast and adds, "Nevermind. Just know that you don't want to meet them. One of them blasted away Commander Maut's face." Her voice hardens, and there's a noticeable pause before she finishes, "The other, from what I gather, took Bail Organa hostage and freed Rem Dalor, cutting down numerous soldiers in the process. When we blocked their exit from space, they sent a fleet the next day. We presume that at least part of their goal was to get Rem and the clones off the planet." "Commander Haquien Maut?" says Celis, frowning, then shaking his head. "I believe I have met their clones before. Amalfiel Renatalis? I believe he goes by Legion. He has a long list of names. I do not recall them all but I know that Orin was one of them. And Kaia. Many other Jedi who have died. Something about being the last of a line. He was an impressive fighter on Nar Shaddaa." "Yes," Briseis replies simply, and another brief pause gives the word weight before she draws in a deep breath and nods. "Yes, Amalfiel is the worst of them, I think. I'm not certain--" She shakes her head in frustration, breaking off and then beginning again. "I'm not certain how exactly they came to be or what exactly they are, except that they are /dangerous/ and /unbalanced/, an apparently also fearless and fiercely loyal." "I saw Commander Maut today," says Celis. "He looked well, all things considered. I don't recall where." He frowns again. "Bred to kill, it would appear." He offers a faint smile. "You did what you could. I'm proud to be able to call you a friend." Briseis startles, eyes widening instantly as she stares at Celis. "You saw him /today/?" she questions swiftly, the last word drawn out in emphasis. "You don't recall where?" "I have been rather occupied since I got off Alderaan. It was a brief moment. I don't think he noticed me--it was a very brief glance." Celis frowns. "I had other business on my mind. Someone has planted bombs on Corellia, I had some exchanges to make and was having my weapons modified--and I wasn't aware he was only recently nearly dead." Briseis' frown deepens, and for a moment she simply absorbs this in silence, fingers curling down over the back of a chair pushed in to the table. "He was talking to Rem Dolor. Over coffee." Celis says this as if he now finds it very strange indeed. "Does he have a sister, do you know? About seventeen? Quiet?" He frowns. "I now wish I had asked about it, because I have no possible idea why." /This/ earns him an even wider-eyed gaze, and for the moment Briseis simply stares at him, her jaw unhinged. "I would appreciate it," says Celis, "if you would not mention that it was me who told you this." He doesn't offer any more, though this could be because he is now rather confused about something he previously dismissed as trivial. It takes Briseis a moment to find her voice, and when she does she rocks back on her heels, her expression gone unhappily dark as she dips her head, gaze fixed on the table as she shakes it. "No," she murmurs to Celis. "Of course, no, thank you. I won't. I'm sorry. It simply was not-- um. Not news I had expected to hear." "No, I imagine not." Celis sighs. "I'm sorry for breaking it to you like that. I guess I wasn't really -thinking- today. It was a flurry of activity. I normally try to be more observant. I feel that is a failing on my part, and I apologize." "No, Celis--" Briseis lifts her head to look at him, although the faint smile she gives him does not quite make it to her eyes. "It is not your fault. It's simply--" She shakes her head and exhales quietly. "He sent me a message early yesterday telling me that he had left for his trials and indicating a few provisions should he-- not come back." A quiet breath in and she looks for a moment as if she may add something else, but she falls silent instead, one palm turned upward in a silent gesture, request for understanding. "It's okay," says Celis, softly, leaning back in his seat. The assortment of papers in front of him is, at least momentarily, forgotten. "I'm listening if you need to talk." He watches Briseis carefully. There is a stretch of silence in response, during which Briseis leans heavily forward into the brace of her arms, fingers curled over the edge of the chair once more. Eventually she glances over at Celis, her dark eyes shadowed. "Do you believe that it's possible to call an enemy as a friend? That doing so is /honorable/?" "Even a good person can fall into lies, falsehood, and perversity," says Celis, after a moment's pause. "I wonder sometimes, if the average Black officer isn't just some young fool won over by sweet words and promises of glory." After a moment he continues, "But a friend who really embraces the policy of your enemy? Who has given himself over to it wholly? I'm not sure." "If I believe that I am fighting against friends, how am I supposed to aim, Celis? How am I supposed to fire? How am I to do my /job/?" Bri watches him for a moment and then straightens, scrubbing a hand hard over her face. "I'm not sure, either. I am beginning to feel that my entire life is a mess of 'not sure' these days." "I do believe this," says Celis. "I believe that the Republic -has- to win this war. There is simply not an alternative. I believe that we need to be bloody, bold, and resolute. And I believe that if there is one person in this Republic who can be strong she is sitting across from me right now." He offers a weak smile. "We've all had to make sacrifices. What we need--what the Republic needs, what -I- need--is to be confident that we are doing this for the right reasons." Bri's smile is a faint, flickering, unconvinced thing, but she nods at Celis' response and straightens. "Of course," she says. "Of course, you're right. I'm sorry, Celis, I know this isn't what you came for. If you leave a copy of the tranmission with me, I'll be certain it gets to the right place." "I am not so busy that I don't have time to help a friend," responds Celis with a smile. "I have every confidence in you." He straightens his jacket carefully. "I feel that with the delivery of the tapes itself, I should follow proper channels. I have instructions to make the delivery to the AIA tomorrow, barring complications. I will, of course, retain a copy in the event that goes awry--and you will be the first to receive a copy if I am authorized to distribute it to parties I trust." He glances about in a slightly furtive fashion. "I know I can trust you, but I don't want my handlers to think I have created a security leak." Briseis frowns at Celis for a moment, a return of the oft-seen expression. She breathes out quietly and skims a brush of her hand over her brows. "You wish me to keep what you've told me quiet?" Celis pauses, as if making a decision. "I feel that it would be safest if you held on to it until you hear from me again," he says, producing a copy of the recording and sliding it across the table. "For all of us. I will ask for further instructions from my contact. But I felt that you deserved to know--and I will trust your judgement on the matter." There's a weighty pause before Briseis nods, and its reluctant when it comes. "For the moment, I will not say anything," she allows. "But if I don't hear from you within 48 hours, Celis, I'll have to pass it on." She turns to face him fully, studying him. "I trust your judgement as well. Try to move quickly?" "Of course." Celis nods. "Time is one thing we never seem to have enough of, but I will do what I can." He offers something of a wry smirk. "Oh, try to avoid Corellia for the next several days. We are looking for someone to disarm a series of bombs that have been placed in the commercial district. If you know someone who could help..." "I'll pass that along too," Briseis promises with the flitter of a tired smile. "Take care, Celis. Please be careful." "I will do what I can." Celis rises to his feet and collects his papers. "You should get some rest, Captain. You look like you could use it." With that he turns and paces heavily from the room, briefcase in tow.
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