2BBY
Coruscant
“We have run the tests Director and believe the suggested extraction methods to be genuine and authentic. We will begin plasma drilling in short order and will apprise you prior to detonation.” The crisp and concise voice of Lieutenant Commander Vellia Osage finalized as the diminutive holo image flickered several times through a hazy resolution atop the desk before Director Orson Krennic, the finer details of her pressed white uniform lost to ribbons of obscurity.
Krennic beetled his eyes slightly before addressing the update, tilting his head in thought for a moment to divine all avenues his authorization would yield. He knew the woman would not hesitate to follow his orders but strained his thoughts in surging efforts to deduce the myriad outcomes that could result from the action. Orson rested his chin upon several outstretched fingers from his right hand as he sank back into a luxuriously padded seat within the confines of his oversized office. “I will remind you Lieutenant Commander that the risks of being wrong far outweigh the advantages of being right.”
The woman in the holo image shifted artfully, as if transferring weight between feet, Krennic was not concerned in the least over the slight in decorum. “Being wrong would still yield enough Terminium and Crinsite to merit a court martial worth the efforts Director. Without even bearing mention the multitude of other rare materials we will harvest in return.” She replied, clearly struggling with the required updates complete with date stamps and rephrased questions.
“Out with it Vellia, I need to know that this operation is being handled within the very tight parameters set forth by our own High Counsel, I cannot endure a repeat inquiry into misappropriations.” Orson said slowly, lowering his gaze slightly to convey the seriousness of his facial expression.
“I have already gone on record accepting full responsibility for this operations activity within the system. If it pleases you that I do so again….” Vellia began as she fought hard to fixate her eyes on his own despite wanting to roll them into the back of her skull before Krennic cut her off.
“Vellia, you have oversight of the operation in its entirety, not just within the Praxius system.” Orson said quickly, feeling the muscles at his jawline ache in efforts to keep his expression from deviating, “the only reason for these, updates, is to establish a line of credibility toward the information and procedures you are employing to yield the materials necessary to sustain AWR’s initiatives.”
Vellia Osage defied all protocol and swung both arms into view as they crossed before her chest, the dark olive skin stretching taught across her cheeks as her expression mirrored his own in outright hostility, “I will remind you Director that this operation was mobilized at your behest, something I will freely admit on record at every given opportunity.” She unleashed.
Orson felt a twinge behind his left eye knowing that she was right and had stated that fact on more than one occasion.
“In fact, I will go further on record, for both our benefit, in stating that the Gorse method was in fact a suggestion direct from your office Director Krennic.” Vellia continued, her lips pulling tight as she lifted her head, jutting her chin toward him.
Orson tapped a key on his holo device, halting the record feature for the duration of the transmission. ‘Well played Lieutenant Commander…’ Orson thought to himself.
“Yes. Well, trivial matters in the grand scheme of things…” Krennic responded, “I look forward to your next transmission.” He finished and ended the communication abruptly, shaking his head in irritation as the woman vanished from view, rendering the office silent but for the multitude of passing traffic outside his office window. He stared at the holo emitter for a long moment while tapping at his jawbone, letting his mind wander briefly despite the enormity of tasks that required his attention.
Krennic blew out a breath, not in frustration, but as a mental exercise, allowing himself to focus his thoughts on the here and now. He pushed himself away from his cluttered desk and spun himself out of his chair, slowly straightening his form as he approached a massive clear panel that served as his rear wall. Again, Orson breathed in deeply, holding the air briefly in his lungs as he hooked both thumbs into his trousers belt loops. He focused his eyes on a simple landing platform set a few floors below him on an adjacent monad, three humanoid forms decanting themselves from a polished and gleaming golden covered taxi. He blew out the breath slowly as he focused solely on the legally razor thin operation within the Praxius system while watching the figures disappear within the opposing structure. Few knew of the construction currently taking place over Scarif, and he knew it would need to remain that way. Fewer still knew of its sibling in the Modell sector. Orson raised a hand to his forehead, spreading his fingers wide and sweeping them down his face in one long stroke, wondering how he would manage keeping a third construction a secret from even the High Counsel. Then the plans for another project entirely landed on his desk.
Krennic lifted a fingertip to his chin in contemplation as he watched the posh taxi speed away to its next fare, its immaculate finish glowing radiantly in the artificial Coruscanti light. He was at a loss to contrive new source systems for the ever-expanding masses of materials needed to satiate his current projects much less the added pressure of sourcing materials that had not yet even been defined by his cadre of engineers. Several speeders, carrying Coruscanti elite, blazed through his view, flaring bright garish colors that he found visually offensive. A chime called his attention away from the view as he spun toward his desk and its source. He walked casually to the holo emitter controls and accepted the incoming transmission.
“Director Isard, this is a surprise.” Krennic offered as a severe looking man flared into holographic form in the center of his desk. The image shifted only slightly as the man within cupped his chin with a massive, clenched fist.
“Your connection is secure?” Isard spoke quickly, his harsh voice gruff with its trademark directness.
“As it always is Director.”
“Have you had chance to review the new plans?” Isard continued without deviating from his strict monotone.
“Personally. Yes. The concept is quite interesting and could, in turn, nullify any counter actions to our battle station initiatives.” Krennic added, quickly serving the Director the first course of the manipulations he had contemplated.
“Interesting is not the description I had expected. From my understanding the engineering, and science behind it, have already moved beyond theory and into the realm of practicality.” Isard returned, lowering his eyebrows slightly and calling Krennic’s attention to the shock of white hair that swept over the man’s left parting line.
“Have I ever offered you anything beyond positivity Director? I think not. If it can be imagined, AWR will bring it into reality.” Krennic relayed, crafting the subtle cradle he would assuage and abuse further down the timeline if needed. “What I do not see however, are parameters or dimensional guidelines within which to operate.”
“Use your imagination Orson.” Isard rebutted quickly, offering a rare glimpse of sarcasm. “Appropriations will need to be established, what availability have you there?”
Krennic did not respond right away, his thoughts immediately drifting toward Praxius and the operation due to commence any minute and how thin he was already stretched. Orson crossed his left arm before him as he tugged at his chin briefly with his right hand. “I know that look Krennic, care to let me in on those devious thoughts of yours?”
“Director, I have nothing left with which to assign, even if I had a notion of what is needed.” Krennic paused briefly as he realized his carefully planned manipulations may need to take on a life of their own. “Unless I am allowed to utilize a certain portion of Cain’s fleet surrounding Botajef that is.”
Isard didn’t respond directly, skewing his lips into something resembling entertained for the visual they created in conjunction with his twisting facial features, “you already know that is impossible Orson, by your own admission, the probe operation requires every vessel involved.”
“What have we available on Kuat?” Krennic was thinking faster than the conversation was taking place.
“Orson, you have yet to establish what is even required much less what would be needed to gather necessary materials.” Isard said with an incredulous expression, “don’t you think you may be getting ahead of yourself? The number of appropriations already at your disposal outweighs those given to Tarkin himself!”
Krennic was ready for that, “and that is precisely why you come to me, to solve the unsolvable Director.” Orson knew there would be no rebuke, there couldn’t be.
“Krennic, although your methods have been...controversial...in the past, they have never been discharged by our Emperor.” Isard said, softening his features as he relayed the truth to his charge.
“Meaning what exactly?” Krennic fired back, narrowing his eyes slightly.
“That HE doesn’t care how you do what you do, only that you get the results asked of you.” Isard said with a certain measure of melancholy, “look Orson, your actions have always reflected upon MI, not always positively, but your penchant for delivering results have always negated any form of action against you. I want that to continue.”
And now Orson Krennic knew he could freely share the idea that would have sounded preposterous only minutes before.
“Director, I am inclined to let a third party intermediate the difficulties of researching this proposal as the bulk of my appropriations are currently occupied, as are the majority of my engineering corps.” Krennic unleashed, fully expecting the confused look on his Directors face as he raised his hands, palms held out in a calming gesture.
“You already know to whom you would task don’t you.” Isard intervened, removing any question from his statement.
“There is a Lannik….” Krennic responded without hesitation.
Cepid:Praxius System
Unknown Regions
“Flash vents in place.” Shouted a tech from the far end of her command deck.
“Plasma chambers initiated.” Another spoke up from her station closer to Vellia.
“Blast radius clear of obstruction.” Yet another added, directly in front of the Lieutenant Commander.
“We are primed and ready Ma’am.” Lieutenant Kol informed his superior, taking a nascent step backward with both arms crossed behind him and staring with naked intent through the transparisteel viewport before them all.
‘This is it,’ Vellia thought to herself, knowing full well success would bolster her career enough to vault straight out of Krennic’s grasp. She paced slowly forward, ignoring the absent stares of her crew members, the mild clacking of her boots on the durasteel panels the only sound present. She reached up to tighten her flight cap around her short cropped red hair as she looked down the crook of her nose toward the looming sphere of yellow and orange below her Star Destroyer.
“Gozantis in place Ma’am” Kol added as she walked as close as she could to the viewport.
For a brief second she thought about the planet’s surface. Her mind would not allow her to issue the order without visiting the known consequence of her action. Images she couldn’t place rushed through her consciousness, her mind painting a realm of possibility that she knew she would eradicate in any event. Were there people down there? Wildlife? She didn’t care what those answers would entail, even if she had bothered to negate orders and check for herself. Cepid is a known source of Crinsite and Terminium. That was all that was important to her. She would drill to the planet’s core, alter the planet’s molecular composition, and watch it shatter before her own eyes. “Get the survey vessels in place on Coldeus Lieutenant, we will begin preparations for Staolinite and Reaptase extraction once the haulers arrive.” She replaced any semblance of her remaining humanity with the specific order the Praxius operation would entail.
“Let’s get this moving along shall we, engage drill.”
Vellia could feel the plasma generators from deep within her ship begin to churn and chug with a deep resonance, interspaced vibrations rocking through the command deck with variable degree. The chugging increased in volume and timeliness as a bright white pilot beam shot forth from the bow of the Star Destroyer, its terminus lost within the gaseous atmosphere below. The sounds continued to increase in cadence until they were indistinguishable, becoming a single, obsessive, entity that no one could ignore. The ship lurched slightly under her feet as a golden stream took the place of the pilot beam, shimmering through the distance between the bow of the vessel and swirling cloud mass with an almost blinding brilliance. The transparisteel viewport, reverted automatically to shield their eyes from the flash, allowing them to witness the complete disbursement of the cloud cover on the planet’s surface.
The canvas for their artful destruction wiped blank for their efforts, they could all see the plasma beam rocket through the initial layers of Cepid’s crust, large clouds of brown interwoven with fiery red, incendiary oranges and superheated whites and blues presented the precise location of the planets demise to all watching.
“Depth approaching two thousand kilometers.” A technician updated the command deck.
“Increase amplitude and modulate for ionic burst.” Vellia ordered, “Sub lights at ten percent.” She added swiveling toward her helms control.
“Three thousand kilometers, resistive.”
“Surveys said there were Cortosis pockets, follow my damn orders.” Vellia Osage barked through the vibrating crescendo.
“Ma’am, if we push the envelope so far from the core we risk overheating the target materials.” Kol advised.
“Thanks for that Kol, truly. Am I not here because I might know what I am doing?” Vellia turned to her second in command. “Now, modulate for ionic burst dammit, we’re going to breach core before you finish with your concerns.” She turned again toward her helm, “twenty percent.”
“Penetration Ma’am, four thousand kilometers, core breach imminent.”
“Iopline charges, ready.” She ordered.
“Online and ready for discharge Ma’am” Another of her technicians offered.
“Five thousand kilometers.”
“Full amp, modulate open!” Vellia shouted, “forty percent on subs! Launch charges!” She added without removing her gaze from the incendiary view. She watched the culminations of the blazing inferno and brown clouds weaving together, a keen interest in any changes taking place within her target zone. The reds began to dissipate, giving way to the ear marks of superheating with stark white and blue fringing. The brown suddenly disappeared as the red was engulfed fully, “disengage drill, cut engines and get us back to original position.” Again, she watched with narrowing eyes as the brilliant beam ceased completely, dull blue contrails disappearing into the cavernous burrow hollowed from the intense drilling.
All action ceased as the entire command deck focused on the viewport, watching with growing anticipation as the Iopline charges made their way deeper into the planet’s bowels. Whispering commenced between crewmates differing between sincere faith and outright contempt, some offering wager over the operation’s effectiveness.
“Point Zero mean.”
Vellia watched closely as the planet’s gasses fused once again, creating a carpeting of cloud cover over their target zone. Without warning she was jolted from her feet as the ship canted starboard, knocked off its course. She fired back to her feet immediately, pressing her hands to the transparisteel despite the viciousness of the expected shock, a smile brimming itself across her lips as the gasses withdrew completely around the entirety of the sphere within her view. The yellows and oranges Cepid had presented them from the outset began leeching themselves into shades of blue and purple. She pressed her face closer to the viewport’s surface, her heart hammering in her chest as she waited for the fracturing the shock would physically present. Large fault lines, cracks kilometers deep, began tracing their ways randomly and with intense speed in all directions. Some breaking away and some combining with others as the planet began to split itself into workable sections. A matter of minutes redefining Cepid’s chemistry, and mere seconds redefining its purpose.
“Get me Krennic.” Lieutenant Commander Vellia Osage said, turning to Kol with a wide smile from ear to ear.
Present Day