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| - Coruscant: Unified Command Building - Logisteum A large holograph-projection computer sits in the center of a black table in the center of this room. Its default projection is a golden map of the Universe, with Coruscant at its center, and many systems displayed in varying colors depending on their political allegiance. Further bits of logistical information, concerning systems, planets, fleets, bases, supply depots and dumps, and threat analyses are projected outward as well. The rest of the room, though not vast, has a trim, technocratic feel to it. The niched black walls conceal, rather than reveal.
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| abstract
| - Coruscant: Unified Command Building - Logisteum A large holograph-projection computer sits in the center of a black table in the center of this room. Its default projection is a golden map of the Universe, with Coruscant at its center, and many systems displayed in varying colors depending on their political allegiance. Further bits of logistical information, concerning systems, planets, fleets, bases, supply depots and dumps, and threat analyses are projected outward as well. The rest of the room, though not vast, has a trim, technocratic feel to it. The niched black walls conceal, rather than reveal. All along the walls are many stations full of computer terminals, where logistics officers and protocol droids work tirelessly. Several small messenger droids roam the floors of this room and move in and out of various mechanical doors, often to return moments later. Formal black velvet doorways lead into the officer quarters, while flights of broad stairways sweep up into Central Command and down into Central Staging. On the way over, AM-21 beeps and woops, sending messages to Briseis through the navicomputer. His head twirls back and forth while they move through hyperspace. He is obviously somewhat alarmed! Briseis is not particularly coherent through most of the journey, awash in a haze of pain that is not entirely physical. The droid carries them through most of the navigation and hyperjumps, with Bri stirring only now and again to confirm something or make a slight adjustment. By the time they settle into the docking bay at the UCB, the mangled mess of her leg is somewhat-- less. Pain still shoots through it with every movement, but it is no longer all-consuming, and Briseis drags herself from the fighter with a staggering effort. The little droid pops out behind her and drives up, beeping and wooping while the ship powers down. "Booweeep!" he declares while managing to catch up to her side. "Beeboop!" he adds. It's later, and the building is sparsely populated. The fighter is familiar, and elicts no particular notice from those Guards on duty, save a salute of recognition. Briseis - and the droid, trailing after - pass through the hangar bay and toward the Logisteum without comment or interruption. She does not look down at her beeping companion despite its apparent insistance - not until she reaches the door, where she collapses heavily into it and braces herself with the tight hold of an arm while she breathes slowly and heavily. One of the Guardsman rush over to Briseis and try to help her up while the droid beeps in total complaint. "Ma'am, are you alright!?" the man demands while the droid tries to call for help in its robotic language. A few others move over to help, trying to pull Briseis up to her feet. "Fine--" Briseis dismisses, shoving at a supporting Guardsman in favor of the solidity of the door. Her fingers curl hard against its surface. "I'm fine-- /frak/." Outside of the missing portion of her armor and the blackened, charred skin beneath, there are other signs of damage. Portions of her armor are heat-scorched, and the skin of her face is too red. Her chin lifts as she staggers up a bit straighter. "I need you to find out," she requests with carefully-spaced words, spoken between pained breaths. "Find out if Lieutenant Maut has been heard from in the last several hours." There is an uncertain pause before she hopes more quietly, "Can you see if there are-- are any Jedi available to speak with me?" "Yes.. yes ma'am.." he replies quietly. The little droid rolls forward and beeps desperately while others look on. One woman moves to Briseis' side and tries to help her up, and give her a shoulder to lean on. That accomplished, Briseis finally allows the support of the other woman. She leans into her for a long moment, her eyes pressed closed and her breaths carefully controlled. Eventually she blinks them open and nods in silence, beginning to move forward at a careful, limping shuffle. The drois wheels away with relief. The woman takes Briseis to a chair and sits her down, then says, "We really need to have your leg looked at, Cap." She eyes Briseis warily. The Guardsman moves to a terminal and begins to type. Briseis collapses heavily into the chair, with a wince and a gasp of pain that escape despite her best efforts. She squeezes her eyes closed once more and does not respond, either to confirm or to argue. Medical personnel arrive with a floating stretcher. They prepare to load Briseis up, but one stops to take a look at her leg. "Hmm," he says with a frown. "That's weird.." The Guardsman returns to Briseis. "Lieutenant Maut hasn't checked in, ma'am. His last check in was over fifteen hours ago. Records show he sent a lot of files, holo-messages, text, and verbal. About five of them to you, ma'am." He frowns. "No Jedi are in this sector. But Master Kenobi is due in two hours. Is something wrong, ma'am?" Briseis pays no particular mind to the medical personnel who work at her leg, ignoring them to the point of rudeness. It's only once the Gaurdsman returns that she focuses her gaze and her attention once more. Each additional piece of information hits home with a visible heaviness that builds the growing sense of dread in her stomach. At the end, Bri simply lowers her head and shakes it, silent. "Cap, we need to take you to the med center, here in the UCB," the man says who is inspecting her leg. He prepares to lift her up, as does the other, aided by the woman. "Ma'am, the files were sent over fifteen hours ago and were pretty large. One of them was a bank transaction." He frowns. "Is there.. something we should know or do?" Briseis allows them to move her without protest, helping them with an upward push from her good leg. To the other she has no reply. Now it is they she ignores, her jaw set in silence. "Captain!?" the man replies, looking scared. "Settle down, Serge," one of the medical team members says. "She's in bad shape. Let's get her down to the med center. Follow standard missing-persons protocal. Download the last couple coordinates from that V19's nav computer and go from there," the woman adds. "Mustafar," Briseis says quietly. She swallows and then looks up as they settle her in. "I'm fine," she says once more, although the assurance is a bit hollow given the distance that grows in her gaze. She closes her eyes again. "Musta-wassa'?" the man replies, but he trudges off regardless, back to a terminal. There he begins to research and download. Briseis is carted off, past a set of blast doors, which open and close with a hiss.
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