Room 216, Palpatine Memorial Hospital - Coruscant White hot stabs of pain exploding like a fireworks display was all he could feel and knew. Although it was like living a personal hell, it did let him know that he was still alive. For surely a dead person did not feel a single thing? He tried to concentrate past the misery and remember why he was in such a state. But his thoughts scattered into a million pieces the moment any coherency formed. Then he noticed that there was a buzzing sound just on the edge of the darkness and subconsciously he grabbed for it, moving away from Death's Grip toward the sound and the light from which it came. He could almost recognize the sound. A fly? He thought. No, flies. He could hear two insects buzzing about near his good ear and it annoyed him. But it was better than hearing nothing. It reassured him that he could still hear at least in one ear and that he was still among the living. He tried to concentrate and gather his thoughts into something resembling coherence again. Slowly he began to remember what had happened to land him in this embrace of pain. It had something to do with an explosion detonating right behind him and a bunch of stormtroopers. Slowly and painfully he pieced the memories together and soon understood what had happened to him. I am so going to kill those rebels! He thought and inwardly grimaced as a headache leapt forth out of no where and nearly sending him back into the darkness. But a voice saved him from the plunge and he focused his energy on the words the person was speaking. "...it'll be a miracle if he lives." His surgeon no doubt said and then a second voice replied. "They shant get him this easily." The person said proudly. "You will see, he will be up biting his surgeons in no time!" "Surely not! He's lost so much blood!" The surgeon protested in shock at the audacity of the other man. "Shrapnel had penetrated his skull." So that explained the sever headaches and the difficulty of focusing his thoughts. He would die if he had permenant brain damage. His mind was his best weapon in his arsenal. "Bah, it does not matter. Thane will pull through I tell you and he will be sharper as ever!" I hope so. Gregory thought and allowed the darkness to embrace him one more time and fell into a dreamless slumber.
"Well, Assistant Director, let me begin by showing you this," Mevnin said after Dugal insisted on getting on with the report.
Walking up to the Assistant Director, Agent Thredo pulled out a small holopad and stuck his hand out to show it to him face to face, and after pushing a few buttons on it the image of a dead human appeared, his body maimed in such a way that he was hardly recognizable as a human in the first place.
"This man, Assistant Director, is known as Intelligence Agent Mevnin Thredo."
Emperor Iaius I The Emperor was in the midst of a late night assessment on the fighting strength of his armada when a light on his desk blinked. So, someone had contacted him--via HoloNet. It was late at night on Imperial Center's standard time, and he was certainly in no shape to answer a transmission. Why, he wasn't even in uniform, much less his royal robes. It wouldn't do good for a--the light was red. That was Obsidian clearance--and the Emperor left instructions for all but the most important calls to be routed to Kiera. Very well, then... he would answer. He restricted the holofield to only his face. It was Palpatine's favored setting, but he disliked using it and had ceased a few months ago. Unfortunately, this time he didn't quite have a choice. He activated the holofield and spoke smoothly and strongly, "This is the Emperor. What is it?"
Emperor Iaius I Iaius could scarcely believe his ears. Did he say that Imperial Intelligence was comprimised? Surely he didn't... Iaius kept his composure, but swore to himself internally. It was Intelligence that controlled the secrecy of the HoloNet, it was Intelligence that provided encrypt/decrypt for the majority of the Empire. His own personal hypercomm and encrypts would not be comprimised, but perhaps it was preferable that they were. In this case, it was the rest of the Empire that was in trouble. The rest of the Galactic Empire--if Intelligence's most secret facility (he had no idea where it was; he had best file that question away for later) could be infiltrated, then what of the rest of the Empire? No, that had best not be what the captain had meant... "Captain Mylenko, there is to be no blame tasked until we have the full details of what just happened and precisely how it occured," the Emperor reassured him, "Accepting the failure of Intelligence is to happen later. For now, Intelligence must come through and find out how this happened--and redeem itself by showing its characteristic adroitness at such tasks." Surely this would ease the man's frayed nerves, but Iaius had the distinct impression that the man wasn't afraid of death. No, it was something far worse. He felt a kinship with the man just now, and it gave him some perspective. The man was like himself, he reflected. Iaius was terrified of failure, but not for his own sake--but of failing the Empire and the people he served. Even as the Emperor, he still had such sentiments. There were many loyal sons of the Empire: Dugal was one of them, loyal to the end. It was not much of a stretch to assume his staff was, too. This man deserved a chance to make up for whatever failing he might have had--not for his own sake, but for the Empire's. Iaius perceived that the man would like nothing more than to right the wrongs done to the Empire, and would accept his fate. The Emperor liked that in his men: loyalty to the Empire and its Emperor above self was something he greatly appreciated. "Start from the top," the Emperor politely ordered him, "recount what events lead up to this calamity."