Internal Affairs

Roth Wiatt hated chaos. There was death in disorder. There was pain in miscommunication. He never understood why people chose to rebel, never grasped what strong human need was so important as to sacrifice order, to slaughter sanity. Peace was only achieved with order, and order was only achieved through complete and total, merciless control. He trusted the Confederation of Dolomar enough to dedicate his life to its cause, a cause, he thought, they were all dedicated to. Yet as he learned his new mission, accepted it, he grew sick to his stomach.

There was a potential traitor among them, someone of higher rank. Roth was angry at the rumors, hoped they were lies. To find truth in them would be the core of deceit, manipulation, and betrayal. Those were the tools of the enemy. Those were the tools of chaos. And Roth wanted order.

His footsteps loud in the Confederation headquarters at their base in Dolomar, Roth walked with intent. Through ties with higher ups and tricks of the hand that he was not meant to understand, he was placed under command of one Colonel Derai, the subject. Roth did not like thinking of him by name, as to call him such would be to give him respect and admiration within their faction, and Roth was not about to give mental respect to a potential traitor until he was absolutely certain that he was innocent.

His outward demeanor, however, reflected the respect that a rank such as Colonel would expect from a Major. And as he at last found the subject in the maze of the headquarters, he was confident that his features would remain soft and trustworthy despite his inward fury.

“You Major Wiatt?” the subject asked without looking. His tone disinterested, he was shifting a few papers around on his desk.

“Yes, sir,” Roth replied calmly. He let his gaze fall to the desk, clamored with papers strewed about messily. He knew it would be a miracle to find anything in that chaos. Chaos. Disorder. The words again brought to the surface of his mind, he held back a growl and covered with a polite smile. If the subject noticed, he said nothing.

“Odd they’d send me a Major, when a Private would do,” he said, and Roth grit his teeth behind his calm façade. He wanted to respond but found no appropriate words and held his tongue.

“You a mechanic?” the subject asked.

“Yes, sir,” Roth replied flatly, not really liking the idea of being labeled into one category of the faction. He, as like many others, was multi-functional. Though he supposed the less the subject understood about Roth’s many days as a saboteur, the better it would be in the long run to accomplish what he needed to. In fact, the more he thought about the subject’s simple question, the more he saw a gapping opportunity. “You have something that needs fixing?”

((Does the Colonel have something that needs “fixing” or does he assign Roth to some other duty?))

((The Colonel informs the Major that his heating unit has been acting up and he'd be much obliged if he could repair that. He seems rather dismissive of Wiatt, as though he's some wet-behind-the-ears recruit instead of a distinguished Major. He informs him that he has a few errands to run and must step out of the room for a while so Roth can work on it right now.))

"I'd be happy to take a look at ....the heating unit," Roth began, only to have the subject leave the room before he could finish his sentence. Finding himself alone, Roth slumped his shoulders slightly, letting his muscles release the tension they had held since he had first learned of his new mission. He walked to the heating unit in the corner, and unhinged the panel to expose the wiring within.

He gave the interior of the unit a thorough once-over, and was at last in his element. The wires, breakers, filters, circuits. They were like old friends. There was a hum coming from the back of the unit, and a steady rattle.

"What's wrong with you?" Roth asked as he probed deeper into the machinery. The breaker was not tripped. The fuse was still intact, not blown, didn't need replaced. He was disappointed to find that the filter was dirty. A dirty filter was likely the problem. He was hoping for a deeper problem, he lived for the rush of fixing. He loved the feel of the tools in his hands, the clink of a wire as he clipped it closed. Unfortunately, this job only called for a new filter. He'd have to go down and get one from the supply room when he had the chance.

The problem found, he stepped back away from the heater, leaving the paneling off and the filter half-ripped out. Roth had a strong feeling that even the subject was not absent-minded enough to leave the evidence he needed just sitting on top of his desk, but he was not about to take chances. He peered over the papers on the desk, careful not to move them as he searched.

Something about the subject just did not sit right with Roth, and it was more than his disrespectful manner toward the Major. Still, he tried to remain objective. It was possible after all that the subject was innocent of the charges. Yet people were never accused of something so terrible and deceptive without good reason, and Roth was determined to find out just what that reason was.

"Oops," he said aloud as he purposely dropped his fusioncutter to check under the desk. He checked the drawers as he stood back up.

Roth twirled the fusioncutter in his hand then held it tightly. It was strange, the sense of confidence he gained with a tool in his hand, as if he drew power from it. He smiled a little, he was always happier with his tools, surrounded by machines. He much preferred them to humans. They were, after all, the perfectionists of order by design. A machine would not rebel unless programmed to. It would not betray or manipulate. A machine had no accidents unless intended from human hands. It did as it was told, and was content.

He sighed, knowing he lived in an imperfect world, and returned his focus to the desk.

((Does Roth find anything of interest on/within the Colonel's desk?))

((Either the Colonel is innocent or careful because Roth doesn't find anything suspicious on or inside of his desk. He does note that the Colonel is very organised with his files and everything else right down to the datapads on his desk being stacked by size. This suggests an almost OCD behaviour which in and of itself isn't bad, but may make catching out the traitor a tad bit difficult.))

Meanwhile, across Dolomar central in the upper habstacks beneath the icy veil, a lone operative was biding her time and waiting to complete the other part of the investigation into Colonel Derai's affairs. It was known to her that another operative had been placed under Derai's command to observe his day to day dealings and while the Colonel was occupied with his schedule, she would investigate his dwelling for evidence of treason.

With a calm and even gait, the woman known to many as Maris Kala'myr strode confidently down the thawed streets, her black stilettos sounding loudly against the mottled marble flagstones at her feet. Coming to the habstack that Colonel Derai resided within, the woman slid a simple keycard from the pocket of a well cut and fitting black business jacket and slid it into the reader aligned against the curving glass doors. The keycard was blank. Her authentication came from a different source, overriding the security protocols without echoing the data to entry logs or other recording systems.

The doors receded with a polite chime and an automated voice welcomed her to the habstack. The voice was overly cheerful as if it's only delight in life was opening, greeting the sentients as they arrived, and bidding them farewell as they left. The doors slid shut behind her with an alternate but still polite chime. If Maris possessed more of a personality, she may have loathed those doors.

Pausing as she crossed the threshold, Maris placed the keycard back into her pocket and slid the trendy black framed glasses down the bridge of her nose. There was no medical reason for the spectacles, the prescriptions were glass. With a pleasant smile, she adjusted the frames and continued on. Entering an awaiting turbolift, she punched in the floor and flattened the collar points on her crisp white blouse.

Maris did away with the keycard to enter Derai's residence, there was no reason to keep up the façade. The door popped open with a click of deadbolts and Maris entered, closing the door carefully behind her. The security had been deactivated beforehand and records would indicate the door had remained sealed the entire time. There would be no evidence left behind from her incursion into his private domain, which was as it should have been. Guilty or innocent, the Colonel need never know the scrutiny he had been placed under. It was time to begin her investigation.

It became clear to Roth Wiatt, as he peered over and through the Colonel's desk, that the subject was extremely organized. It was quite possible he had some sort of medical condition. Roth sighed a little and ran his hand through his short hair. He knew he was never going to find anything incriminating here. The subject was either lucky for his organizational problem, or far too smart to leave any marks of betrayal within the confederation compound.

Roth stepped away from the desk undaunted by the minor setback. There were, after all, plenty of other places for him to investigate, and even if they brought few results, he knew that he could simply follow the subject, obey his orders, and wait. He looked back to the disheveled heating unit, the first order that was still uncompleted. He pulled the dirty filter from its hinges, threw it out and went to retrieve a new one from the supply room.

There were no complaints as the mechanic replaced the filter and brought the heating unit to full working capacity. He loved that sort of work, meticulous as it would be for some. He was always thankful for small moments that he could sit and work with his tools, the small moments of peace and sanity in a world fraught with war and chaos.

His work complete, the Colonel seemed to be distracted for the rest of the day, with no time or cares for Roth, at least as far as the Major could tell. Roth cut out early from the headquarters before his shift duty was complete, with the intent of investigating the subject's home. He had managed to sneak a look at the Colonel's schedule and knew the subject was busy for the rest of the day. Roth wanted to be in and out of the house in the shortest amount of time possible.

When he finally reached the entrance to the habstack within which the Colonel resided, he was walking his usual saunter, with his collar pulled up, curving into his face. He walked to the door, and examined it. He frowned as it became quite obvious that he needed a keycard to go further.

Roth sighed a little and went straight for the panel, unhooked it, exposing the wires beneath. His fingers like magic under the console, he twisted two bare wire ends together, and the door slid open with an annoying chime. He quickly fixed the wires as they were, closed the panel, and slid inside before the doors closed with an even more irritating chime. Roth was immediately thankful that he did not live within this particular compound. Without further delay, he walked into the turbolift and punched in the correct floor.

As the lift took off, Roth wondered what he would find in the apartment, if anything.

Maris paced slowly into the residence on full alert. The advanced optics set into her skull adjusted to the low light environment and scanned every aspect of the room to decide the most logical place to begin her search. The residence was similar to his office, immaculate with everything in its place. Flags were raised within the cerebral processors, warning the droid of the potential hazard of not returning everything to its correct place. No doubt Derai would know the second that someone had broken in. If the Colonel was guilty of treason, such a realisation would make it nigh impossible to find evidence against the man.

Slowly she moved through the modestly spaced living area, a wide fireplace sat idle, rimmed with silver etchings and bas relief work. A viewer was above the fireplace, flush with the wall. The furniture was modern and obviously expensive with sharp cut lines and rich fabrics. Commendations of battle and valour, pictures of family and significant moments from the colonel's life hung from the walls. Perhaps the most dominating aspect to the room was the wall length windows that looked out onto a commanding vista of the Dolomarian ice-city. It was beautiful.

However, beauty was in the eye of the beholder and Maris didn't appreciate aesthetics as many sentients would have done. The view was simply that, a view and of no greater importance than the expensive fabric that covered the blocky chairs. Maris was not here to admire his sense of décor or stand in awe of the view he looked upon daily. Retasking, she moved from the living quarters and into his personal bed chamber.

Similarly styled, the bedroom had an identical view across Dolomar central. The space was wide and the bed floated eighteen inches above the gold etched stone flags on repulsors. It hovered delicately, anchored in place by durasteel guide wires. Overlooking the extravagancy, Maris approached the walk in closet and leafed through the pressed uniforms, off duty apparel, and formal wear. She checked for false panels, items hiding in the recesses, or a safe, anything that the colonel could use to conceal sensitive information.

((Does Maris find anything in the closet of any importance?))

(( Installed into the back of the closet is a reinforced duranium wall safe, outfitted with a biometric palmprint scanner and a complicated computerized locking mechanism. It seems the Colonel spends as lavishly on his home security as he does on his home furnishings. ))

Roth stood patiently in the turbolift as it elevated, his hands in his pockets, his chin low to his chest as he stared at the floor. The machine gave off a gentle hum, a deep, soothing sound that played for Roth like a melody, told him more about the machine than if he would have looked inside. Being a true mechanic took more than just solid eye-hand coordination. It was a lifestyle, and took the dedication of all senses.

The noise of the lift told him that some of the joints needed greasing, but that as a whole, the machine was operating to full capacity and was quite efficient. Roth approved, though made no outward motion to hint of it.

When the lift stopped humming and the doors slid open, he stepped out without pause. Another hallway, Roth found the door he was looking for and took a slow intake of breath. He knew the subject was meticulously clean and organized and if Roth left one hair out of place in the Colonel's establishment, the man would know he was there. Roth was not too concerned with that, as he had completed several sabotage missions in his time and appreciated the fine art of stealth. He also appreciated the stealth field generator in his pocket.

He handled the new door much as he did the last. Pulling back the panel and twisting the wires with extreme precision. He wished he had brought a slicer though, as he steered clear of the security system's wires. He knew those things were especially touchy, and did not normally like pulling those wires as they often had a trigger connected to them that would sound an alarm if handled. Yet Roth seemed particularly lucky at the moment as the alarm cable was quite obvious, and so Roth disconnected it, reminding himself to hack the security records when he got back to the office. He had a sneaking feeling as if he would never be that lucky again.

The alarm dysfunctional, Roth twisted the appropriate wires to get the door popped open, and he reattached the panel and stepped inside, closing the door carefully behind him.

The first thing that the mechanic noticed was that the Colonel was as organized at home as he was at work. Roth sighed a little, and began to search the residence.

Gently sliding aside the clothes, Maris spotted something of import mounted into the rear of the closet. Metallurgical analysis showed the composition to be duranium. The locking mechanism was complex and something that Maris couldn't easily bypass. It was a standalone system without networking capabilities the rest of the habstack possessed. There was no way she could tease the lock open. Cocking her head to the left, Maris frowned.

This was a development that couldn't be overlooked and the values denoting the colonel's guilt shifted. The presence of the safe was damning. No innocent man would have required such an elaborate strongbox. Still, Maris had been instructed to bring back hard evidence of Derai's involvement with the Alliance. Her intuition wouldn't be enough in this case. Reaching into her jacket pocket, Maris withdrew the security kit and popped it open, exposing the tools within. She began computing the most efficient and unnoticeable way to bypass the security systems. Maris considered forcing the lock, ripping the duranium door from its hinges. But that wasn't exactly covert and there wasn't any certainty that she could do it.

It was now the sound of the door opening was registered. Instantly the task of opening the safe was suspended and relegated to the stack. Full combat protocols pushed to the forefront of her cerebral processors and the situation was tactically analysed. Governors released their grip on her. Snapping the security kit closed, it was placed back into her pocket. Quickly she pulled the clothes back into their original position and left the closet, pulling the doors closed behind her.

The room was still dark and the possibility of Derai's return was not a null probability. Sentients rarely acted with any sense of reliability. Her presence would not be tolerated. Maris moved quickly out of the bedchamber and slid into his private study, the next room on her checklist. Blending with the shadows, she waited with a thin cylinder pressed against her palm. She could hear a single individual searching, humanoid male by estimation. The possibility of Derai searching his own residence was quickly eliminated. Her eyes narrowed. Someone else was interested in Colonel Derai.

The only question being factored within the droid's mind was how to handle the situation. If the unknown intruder continued his search, the probability of Derai realising someone had breached his hab grew exponentially. But a confrontation may result in evidence being left behind. There wasn't a simple solution, but Maris had made her decision. An intervention was required.

Roth spent several moments looking under the subject's couches, searching between the cushions, and feeling the lining to be sure nothing was underneath. He went to each piece of furniture in the man's living room, meticulously searching. He felt under tables and chairs to be certain nothing was hidden underneath. Roth wasn't even finding dust.

The Colonel was frustratingly clean and organized, though Roth had no problem with repetitive tasks and brushed off any complaints before they could formulate in his mind.

It was not long after when Roth thought he saw something move in the study. This paused him, made him stand, straighten his back, and stare. His jaw tightened. He was not well known for his stealth detection, he knew if someone was there, he only knew about it because they wanted him to.

His first instinct was to hold onto his fusioncutter for confidence. His second was to go for his gun, but he immediately ruled that out, as he was a terrible shot. Chances were, he would not hit the person if they were standing right in front of him. If it even was a person. At any rate, if this thing wanted him to be dead, he would be dead. That did not frighten Roth, as he both knew and accepted that, but it did make him rather uptight. After all the battles he fought in, after numerous dances with death, Roth was rather displeased about the idea of dying in the Colonel's living room.

Roth grabbed his stun baton instead. He was much better at whacking than shooting, as he often landed quite the hard punch - or hit as it would be with the baton. Still, Roth was a reasonable man who disliked needless killing and violence. So before he did anything else, he called out to whoever or whatever it was in the study.

"Who's there?" he asked calmly, his voice strong though not threatening. "Who are you?"

Maris lurked in the darkness of the immaculate study, biding her time. As she waited for the intruder to enter the study, Maris gave the room a cursory once over. Neatly stacked shelves held antique leather back books next to glistening dataslates. Maris didn't give much through to the precedence of an actual book, only that they were highly inefficient and if Derai had any sense, he would upgrade his library to an electronic medium. She didn't consider their nostalgic or sentimental value, or that maybe the Colonel preferred the touch of paper and the smell that only came from a real book.

The room was dominated by a large desk of lacquered hard wood. The antique had been retrofitted with a haptic glass interface surface. A flag was raised to investigate the computer system linked to the desk for further clues to the Colonel's allegiance or lack thereof. Behind the desk was a high back leather chair of a similar lacquered hard wood. They were presumably a set.

"Who's there? Who are you?"

A voice called out into the darkness. The data was captured, parsed and ran against the Confederation personnel database. Maris waited in silence as the voice print was processed, unwilling to act until she had accurate intelligence on the intruder. It took a few seconds for her query to return identification. Major Roth Wiatt. Maris associated the name with the agent put under Derai's command to observe him. Roth's personnel record was sequestered and inspected. He was in breach of protocol by coming here. Maris frowned. She intended to get to the bottom of this.

Emerging from the study with the molecular stiletto tucked into her sleeve, she turned and entered the living room with her hands neatly folded and a charming smile. She knew his image, but this was their first meeting. Maris took a moment to observe his mannerisms and compile her own entry on the man. His stance was vaguely threatening, especially with the stun baton clenched in his fist. Cocking her head to the left, Maris blinked.
"I assure you that is not necessary." She said with an open and friendly smile. Not only was the stun baton not necessary, it was useless. "And you should be here."

Roth Wiatt had to admit that what he saw was the very last thing he was expecting. A wild bantha could have stepped out from the study and he would have been less surprised. But a leggy blonde? He had no idea. He did not even want to consider that the Colonel had her there by choice, as that would add a whole different layer to the subject and Roth's mission that he did not want to think about. No, he ruled that out. She was after all, sneaking around in his study just as he had been in the living room.

There were several options for his mind to take, but her outward manner was non-threatening. He relaxed enough to put away the stun baton at her suggestion. He probably would not have hit her with it anyway, he reasoned. He certainly did not trust her, but needless violence only led to chaos. And Roth was a pacifist - generally.

She was smiling at him, which oddly brought Roth to calm a little more. He unclenched his jaw, and began to breath normally rather than the quickened pace to keep up with surging adrenaline. He wondered if she was Confederation. She almost had to be, he knew, but he would not assume until he was certain. He did not recognize her, but that was not unusual. He barely recognize anyone, he had a slight problem remembering people's faces as he never gave attention to them. He was always focused on his work, his machines. It would make sense for the higher ups to send someone to investigate the subject's background while Roth maintained his cover and observed the Colonel in action. Still, Roth was not about to take the chance that he was wrong.

"I apologize, ma'am," he said as he returned his weapon to his pocket. "I did not mean to threaten you."

He took a step closer, attempting to size her up. Her appearance was anything but aggressive, but there was something strange about her that did not quite sit well with him. He wasn't sure, but he knew he was not about to turn his back to her until he found out just who she was and why she was there.

"Forgive me for asking," he began, deciding the most direct way to find out who she was, was to ask. He knew respect was sometimes the best way to get people to open up, though they never let him near the interrogation room. Perhaps he was always too kind and polite. He was never sure. He supposed it did not matter anyway. "Who are you? And how do you know where I should and shouldn't be?"

"I apologize, ma'am, I did not mean to threaten you."

Maris shook her head politely to the apology. The smile persisted and pulled at the corners of her mouth. It was rare to find someone within the Confederation who had manners or acted in a courteous manner. Maris sat low on the food chain despite her clearance and those she dealt with rarely apologised or showed her an ounce of respect. But she didn't particularly mind, she had come to accept such treatment as the norm. Ever since her creation, Maris had been treated as little more than property. But the intruder didn't know who he was dealing with yet, he could have been choosing his words carefully until their standing was established. It was smart and Maris bore him no ill will because of it.

"Please, do not worry about it. You did not threaten me." she replied quietly, trying to put the man at ease. However the unrecognised subtext to her statement spoke something different. For Roth to threaten her, he had to be considered a threat to begin with. The intruder took a step towards her. Maris didn't budge. She just watched him with a curious expression and a smile.

"Forgive me for asking, who are you? And how do you know where I should and shouldn't be?"

He was direct; Maris had to give him that. But it was appreciated. Straightforward vocal cues were always easier to process than longwinded questions that avoided the subject at hand. Roth was no doubt confused to her presence and she had been holding all the cards. She could tell he was still weary.
"You are forgiven. I am Maris," the droid responded pleasantly and extended a friendly hand towards Roth.

"I am aware of the particulars of your assignment, Major. You are off mission." she showed signs of disapproval, but they were quickly washed away. "Your assignment was to observe Colonel Derai at his office and report back your findings. she blinked, cocking her head to the left, "Were your orders unclear?"

"You are forgiven. I am Maris."

Her tone was content, as she continued to smile. Roth did not know what to make of her, but took her hand as she offered it, and introduced himself. "My name is Roth Wiatt," he told her, omitting his rank, still uncertain of her allegiances. He was not going to take any chances on such a delicate mission.

"I am aware of the particulars of your assignment, Major. You are off mission."

When the words came out of her mouth, he almost laughed in relief. So she was Confederation, he realized, and finally let himself ease more fully though not completely. To be aware of his task, she had to have high clearances, and though he gave respect to all of his fellow confederates, those of high ranking often requested a specific, and in his opinion, rather uptight, mannerism.

Though he did not realize that she may have been displeased with him until after he considered her words. He knew he was outside the set parameters of his mission by coming to the Colonel's home, but he was not aware at the time that there were more people assigned to this particular mission than just him. That was his mistake, as he should have guessed as much. The mission was an important one, after all, that required many angles of inquiry. He did not have the clearance to properly expect to know them all. Yet he would not make excuses, as he was clearly in violation of his orders, and merely replied with a, "Yes, ma'am."

"Your assignment was to observe Colonel Derai at his office and report back your findings. Were your orders unclear?"

Her manner lightened a little in her words, but Roth did not allow himself any comfort from that. She was after all, correct.

"No, ma'am, the orders were clear," he told her simply, then debated how much to reveal. The last thing he wanted to tell the higher ups was that Colonel Derai had blown him off the entire day, and the only thing he managed to accomplish was fixing a heating unit. He sighed a little when he realized he had to. It was the truth after all.

"Attempts to follow the Colonel proved ...fruitless," he said, choosing his words carefully, hoping to not make himself look horribly incompetent. "He successfully made efforts to elude me all day. A search of his office had no results, except to find that the Colonel is meticulously organized, as you have no doubt found from searching his home."

He took a breath. He did not want to mention the heater, but he had to, to finalize his report. "The Colonel asked me to repair his malfunctioning heating unit, which I did, ma'am."

He was a little embarrassed, not being able to report more, but ended with a promise. "I will do better, ma'am."

He waited for her response, and hoped she was not about to change his mission to fixing the sanitation units.