The Rebel Faction

Space and time become meaningless to a being that thinks as fast as a positron. With a positronic brain C4 is someone that must try to keep himself from being bored to tears, that he would cry sometimes if he were organic and had tear ducts.

In the hours that intermitt his travels through hyperspace he calculates strategems to counter varies enemies, modify his ship and weapons, or break codes that he has collected out of the varies systems that he travels through. The latter he has been making quit a collection of new and old codes. He can do this simultaniously as he conducts maintanence on his outer droid shell. An imposing form of a phase three dark trooper droid with a hole in the middle of it's chest for his small box like form would fit.

He was stuck in a transport on bussiness. One that he would be pleased to conducted.

With luck all would go well.

Or so he hopes as he uses a manipulator arm to re-attach the hand to the DT-3 unit he is working on.

Cold deck steel lay beneath the feet of a Man dressed in armor of white. Muscles twitches as he glances out paste the windows. His helmet sits on the captains motionless as it stares accusingly at him through two pitch black slits. The bustle of a bridge crew continues around the ship as the man looks out upon what should be a star scape. Only to find that there are no elongated stars of hyperspace to great him, not even an unfamiliar starscape that would shift as he moved to a new star system, allowing him to see ever changing constellations with their own stories to tell. He rubs his hand upon his chin betraying his agitation from beneath his calm façade of calm. He looks out into a blank space where open space and star light should be. Only to see pitch black.

His mirror image moves in tangent with him. A cape moves with him like some wraith that seems to be alive in its own right.

“Director Toryn.” Dressed in a light tan uniform the tall man’s rank insignia is that of a captain in the Alderaanian guard fleet.

Toryn does not look back to address him. He only stares into the abyss before him. No, he does not into the abyss, but into the dark eyes that stare out beside his own; the dark eyes betraying none of the secrets that they held. Almania was lost to him again and yet again he survives.

“Yes captain.” He answers flatly. Military protocol does not require that he be polite. Only that he does his job well and keeps his men alive.

The captain, with a clean salute to his cap, hesitated for a moment. Talking to a mirror was disconcerting enough without having to look out onto a starless expanse. Regaining poseur he speaks to the man in white and his reflection before him, “Sir, we have entered the coordinates that were given to us by the passenger.”

Toryn Sabreen, a man of over sixty years of age makes a note of this mans training in motion. Trained to not go insane in this vista was quite the accomplishment. If he was not as experience as he was in the oddities of the galaxy he may have had his own issues with this place over the last several weeks he spent on this ship.

“Yes,” Toryns voice carries through the space between them. Both ominous and knowledgeable at the same time, he commands instants respect. Even several of the Nohgri in the shadow guard had to admit that he was one human that even they were not sure if they wanted to ever encounter in a fight just because of the presence that he exudes, “Send them out to meet the group then.”

With another salute the captain exits leaving Toryn alone with the dark and the eyes that were dark and resolute enough to match his own.



* * *

In Open space out side of the ship there was nothing to be seen. Only open space and the stars beyond it.

The Aegis was sitting among those stars waiting for something; though it knew not what. Off it’s port a single Nubulan b Frigate appears shimmering into existence where there had been nothing before. With it's shields up and with weapons powered down, it relayed the code given directly to C4 the sith hunter so that he can be noted as a friendly to the VC. The droid himself was not on board but the ship broadcast the signal none-the-less.

* * *

C4 broke the last of his stored codes several ages ago. His droid mind was preoccupied with analyzing his latest intelligence reports. There was a move within his prey, a pre-occupation with gatherings and leavings that made them very difficult to track at a given time.

When he was on the move there was little that he could do. Force users were not things to be trifled with without due cause and preparation. The shadows that hover near the universal center were things to fear, even if that fear was merely an analysis of given variables. He was paid so he sought them out. When he returned he found that he was not sufficient in the task laid before him.

The Interior of the Shadow hunter was the only thing that he saw for the time being. Vinda Corp and the rest of the universe were going to be in for several rude awakenings.