Log:Resistance: To Catch a Rat, Pre-Briefing
To Catch a Rat, Pre-Briefing
OOC Date: June 9, 2019 (Optional)
Location: Beacon Outpost
Participants: Leia Organa, Ambrosia Greystorm
Briefing Room - Beacon Outpost, Rori
This is a large hexagonal chamber, dark until motion activated lights activate audibly upon entry, with perhaps fifty chairs arranged facing a hologram projector at the center of the room. Beyond a control console built into the base of the projector, there are only a scattered few control panels to govern the otherwise bare area's scant lighting. The smells of stale air and dust indicate that this room is not often used to capacity, which may also explain the crates stacked against the wall near the turbolift entrances, as the briefing room has become overflow storage for the rest of the command tower.
[Ambrosia Greystorm]
It's a little absurd, one woman sitting alone in a room meant to hold fifty-plus, making the motion sensors spaz everytime she uncrosses a leg or idly picks a scab. At least we know they're working and not entierly needlessly, for grumpy Greystorm's sequestered herself in here to make use of the thing her personal quarters lack - a holoprojector.
"I'm comin for you, you traitorous bishwag..." she growls softly at the spectral face hovering there in the center and paces a slow half circle around like she's sizing up the corporeal form of the man rather than an old ID of his mean-eyed mug. The rifle is unwrapped, polished, and propped against the projector's console.
[Leia Organa]
"Friend of yours?"
Leia's voice rang out as she made her way down towards the console, having stepped through the relatively quiet hiss of the doors. She made good on her promise to track Amber down, again, and the concern that was still visible in the crease between her eyes was only slightly less prominent than before.
She slowed next to the taller woman, her expression gentle and warm-- perhaps warmer and more peaceful than Amber had seen it in some time. Then again, Leia had been reclusive, recently-- she'd pulled away to collect her thoughts and emotions.
[Ambrosia Greystorm]
Calloused hands fold loosely at the low of the greying footsoldier's back and she breaks the staring contest with holographic pixels in favor of looking into those kind, brown eyes. "Yes. An ill turn of loyalties, to which I'd attribute the saltyness of my tears...if I had any." As of presently, those flinty greens she's sporting are bone dry.
"General, I'd like to introduce you to Cado Dinn. He's one of mine. Was. One of the few former members of your Kimrath Claw still surviving. As of twenty-four hours ago, however, my sentiments have shifted." A mirthless smile and flourish of hand invites Leia to take a seat. Any seat! "I'd had suspicions for some time, but a little gift from /another/ former soldier under my command - this one considerably younger - has just confirmed the worst. Coupled with a recent surveillance report, of course."
[Leia Organa]
Leia nods solemnly and moves, when the gesture is made, to take one of the nearby seats. She has no interjection, no witty retort, no follow ups-- just a brush of her cape so that she can slide down into the seat gracefully and cross her legs as she listens. This was something Ambrosia had clearly already worked out, and she lets the woman get the full story out without further interruption.
[Ambrosia Greystorm]
"Heks Ashkuri," neveryoumind the human-erred emphasis on the wrong syllables there, "Green Twi'lek fellow - you wouldn't recognize him now," Amber motions to her gut with a rotund sort of gesticulating, "was once a Corporal, part of Team Dagger in /this/ era. After the Sullust raid that left him in the burn unit, sans limbs, courtesy of one Kylo Ren, and myself a shiny, brass vegetable, he somehow managed to become a bigger disaster and problem child than he was /before/...details there are irrelevant, long story short: Hex and his now wife, Kasia Ashkuri, parted ways with our military on good terms. I don't think he could cope with the trauma of warfare, two o'them moved as far from it as they thought they could. I've kept tabs on them, as I do all my departed, and they remain good people. Also, useful people, ripe with connections on the Smuggler's Moon. THIS..."
Finally, she gets to the point and grabs up the rifle in a hand.
"Came into one of their weaponry sales' inventory, by way of a vendor, who bought it from someone else, etc. This is a standard issue rifle for our military - OUR military. It is not easily come by in the civilian sector, nor should it be. But it did. They were concerned there might be a leak on our end of things, and as you know, there was. I ran the serial number, compared it to the quartermaster logs, and found a match to one individual who last signed for this weapon." Ambrosia flips the rifle over once in her palms to examine either side, then props it back to rest. "Me."
[Leia Organa]
The Alderaanian listens intently to the summary, the slowly blinking gaze making it obvious that she was taking in every word with rapt attention, but the expressions on her face changed slowly, if at all. As entertaining of a briefing as it was, this story didn't end well. If it did, they wouldn't have been driven off of their station in the first place.
It's the last bit that brings the most emotion out in the Princess, her eyebrows lifting expectantly for a moment after the rifle is set back down and the admission was made. "I'm going to assume that this isn't the part where you turn yourself in," she finally chimes up, her humor dry but clearly interested, now that the story has progressed from point A to point B, what dramatic twist of fate was going to bring them to point C.
[Ambrosia Greystorm]
"No." The old rebel brushes some wisps of silver and gold over and ear, lips pressed into a somewhat flatlined expression. "After you clipped the 'Claws', some of the team assimilated into rank and file, others went into business for themselves as mercenaries. Dinn falls into the latter category. Last I saw him in /person/ was over two years ago. He and a few other old coots answered my call when I needed a few capable hands to join me in a uh...a family matter. On Iridonia." The perma-scowl on Greystorm's face falters just a little, eyes flitting nervously aside to the hologram.
"During this operation, Cado's rifle malfunctioned. He was one of my helpers posted on the ridgeline so naturally I wanted his scope to having /some/ firing potential, so I gave him this," a pat to the EL-16HFE. "Evidently he's since passed it on. Selling a Resistance-issued rifle to some junky dealer doesn't warrant a death sentence, but selling secrets? That does. This sonfabitch has been getting chummy with First Order supporters for awhile now. First whiff I got was a few months ago, but it wasn't completely substantiated and there's no telling precisely how long before that he's been trying for a buyer. This man knows my son. He knows what Jax is - that was the reason we were all lying in wait in the damn desert, that day, to run interference against some...whatever they were, they bled same as any man, and that's not the point. The issue is, if he finds an ear willing to buy his story, he could sell out Jax, his ties to /your/ order, Greystorm Shipping Co...this is a soldier who, in his many years of service to the Republic, made /my/ moral compass look polished and new. I dunno what's prompted him to turncoat, but I don't appreciate the shavitstorm Dinn could unleash if he really put his mind to it. Best we stamp it out, before it can ignite."
[Leia Organa]
Leia's interest turned to a note of sadness as the story continued. The news went from bad to dreadful. The Resistance put a lot of trust into its people-- people that had only joined because they were driven hard enough to want to put their lives on the line for what they believed in. Spies were one thing, but defectors were so rare as to almost be unheard of. There was no draft. No mandatory service.
"So, we bring him back to face charges." It wasn't a question, but Leia was also fairly certain that wasn't what was meant by 'stamp it out.' So, she allowed a pause to gauge Ambrosia's reaction. She wasn't ignorant about everything that had happened or the toll, physically and emotionally, about what /could/ still happen.
"Do we have eyes on him, yet?"
[Ambrosia Greystorm]
"I'm narrowing it down. I'm putting Black Squadron's elite on this one. It won't be easy. Best chance they'll have is if they can successfully pull off posing as an information broker...or buyer. Get confirmation of his intent, then..." A single shoulder shrugs. "What state he returns in is entirely up to his willingness to cooperate, once they pounce. I'd rather he not be put down, on sight, but he ain't worth risking the lives of my best men. In either case, he'll know Ice Queen Aderanne sends her regards. Just preferably in court."
