Death.
The wretched scent of death was heavy in the air, even though the air in question was the sanitized variety found aboard any common Imperial warship. One could recycle it a thousand times, filter it against all sorts of contaminants, and put in any form of freshener to clean up the odor, and it would still stink of death. Perhaps that was just how it was supposed to feel for the lieutenant-commander... It it was, then he was in no rush to stop it; as painful as it was, it was something they had to live with...or, rather, to stop living with, depending on how one approached it.
The soldier's quarters held one particular object that he doubted would get much approval outside of his current command, and he was damn lucky that it had gotten some even from that. On a large scale, the object was a simple altar of dark marble. The smaller trinkets that composed it were unique only insofar as to what they consecrated the altar. Two dark candles, burning with a foreboding scent, and a silhouette upon a small base of the same black marble as the rest of the altar's dais. The silhouette was porcelain, painted black, depicting a woman in robes. Chained at her side was a book with a demonic rune engraved on the cover. Held in her left hand, point aiming forward, was a kris with a skull on the handle; hefted high in her right, point towards the sky, was a scythe with a small mark of texture indicating the presence of darkened, dried blood. Her eyes were the only color to her, glowing red like ruby gemstones; the rest was encased in shadow.
To the soldier meditating before the alter, this sickening construct of a person had a single name, both obscure and archaic in origins: Mother Darkness, the unseen destroyer. So mysterious was the idea behind this following, he was confident that there was only one person in the entire sector that knew of his worship of her. She should have known...she was one of the few other followers in the galaxy.
It wasn't surprising for Jarred to know that she was closing in on the room, either. The distinct noise of a person walking on crutches was easy enough to catch that he hardly bothered himself to try and find her. He knew where she was, simply from hearing her approach. As such, he was entirely unsurprised when the door finally slid open, a very soft knock just barely heralding his guest's arrival. Slowly, he stood up, extinguishing the low flames from the two candles. "Tiffany, darling," he began as he turned to face her, smiling as he looked into the one pair of eyes that almost nobody in the galaxy could bear seeing.
A pair of onyx gems, calibrated specifically for use in some sort of bizarre optics replacement system, looked back at him. "Jarred, sweetheart," came their bearer's reply, her voice still a little weak from the ordeal she'd undergone earlier. Within a flash, her tone was more serious. "There's been an update."
"Oh?"
"Yes. You're wanted in briefing room immediately. New orders came in from Colonel Vos." A quirky grin settled on her face. "Don't worry. The two new members are already getting adjusted to their positions."
"Excellent." Nodding softly, he followed his beloved out of the room, silently wondering what was going to be taking place this time. He'd find out soon enough.
Five minutes later, the two of them were in the briefing room, and the lieutenant-commander certainly did find out what he was dealing with. An undercover raid, focused on the economic and military infrastructures of Ord Mantell. Not necessarily an easy mission, but that was the kind of thing that Jarred lived for: the thrill. Easy missions had no thrill, and that made them useless to him; the difficult, challenging tasks were the ones that truly held his interest. This one, he surmised, would have his complete and undivided interest...up until it was complete. There was also little to say to the assembled teams, as they already knew their roles in the upcoming mission. Havoc-wreakers, plain and simple. They all knew covert tactics, though clearly some would be better at it than others, and he'd make finalized assignments enroute to keep the situation from becoming a nightmare for himself and the rest of the field command staff. Beyond that, it was all set, clear-cut, and ready for shipping through civilian transport to their destination.
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