#character: Halla | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keravnos-kori · 1 year

Text

return to sender - chapter three: best and brightest

ofc x tech (eventual)

word count: 5.1k

rts masterlist // ao3 link

summary: halla has been alone for the past three years. as it turns out, relocating to coruscant and attending a prestigious university hasn’t been as glamorous as she originally expected - but when a new opportunity comes along for her to prove the republic’s injustices committed against clone troopers, she might get more than she bargained for when the power structure suddenly collapses and is replaced by something far more sinister…

a/n:...let's pretend it hasn't been almost three years since i've updated

~~~~~~

“Are we there yet?”

A collective sigh reverberated throughout the cabin. Tech bit his tongue, but couldn’t help his eyes from rolling. “For the eighth time, Wrecker, you’ll know we have reached our destination when we drop out of hyperspace.”

The largest member of the Batch released an irritable groan from his position on the floor, resting his head on the cool durasteel siding that made up the Marauder’s interior.

“Does it always take this long? I never have to pay attention since Crosshair-…” Wrecker trailed off, the circumstances that led them to Saleucami in the first place overtaking his thoughts.

There was a tense silence that spread between the cockpit and main hold, cut through after a moment by the newest member of the crew. “I’m sure it can’t be that much longer!” Omega reassured. The young girl swiveled around in the co-pilot’s seat to face the rest of her companions, feet barely brushing the ground.

Tech glanced up from his datapad to assess the chronometer on the console closest to him. “Your intuition is correct. We are expected to make the drop in approximately one-half standard hour.”

Turning to follow Omega’s gaze, Tech noticed Echo nodding somewhat absently at the communications panel. Hunter continued to pace the length of the ship’s main compartment, fingers twitching near the holster of his vibroblade: a habit only initiated when his patience was wearing thin.

Staying glued to his datapad was the most effective way to keep Tech’s mind occupied in the moment. There was a lot to process from the past few days, and while he was mentally capable of doing so, he was not sure he was prepared to open up emotionally in front of his brothers about his concerns.

This seemed just fine with the others, as they had yet to discuss the implications of Crosshair’s departure either.

Having to leave their brother behind was a difficult decision, to say the least. Though Crosshair began to act strangely on Kaller, the Batch chalked it up to his severe disposition and assumed he was in a sour mood from all the contradictory orders. It wasn’t until their mission in the Onderon sector that things got out of hand.

Disobeying Hunter to his face. Threatening civilians. A total lack of disregard for how they always operated.

All in all, Tech felt as if he’d failed Crosshair, and not just from departing without him.

For not being able to see the warning signs sooner.

They’d always been close. As close as anyone could be to Tech, and vice versa with Crosshair.

Flashes of their days as cadets flashed in Tech’s mind. Everything that they’d gone through together, first as a quartet for the majority of their enhanced lifespans, then with the welcome addition of Echo to their squad. What was it all for if they left each other behind?

Wasn’t that what made them who they were from the very beginning?

Tech inhaled deeply, clearing his thoughts.

Crosshair’s absence wasn’t the only thing troubling him. Nearly 12,400 parsecs away was a civilian he had, for weeks now, kept contact with.

Against Republic regulation.

Tech had his own creative methods of bending the rules, but this went against his training completely.

He accepted her request for academic assistance on a whim. Resisting pursuits of knowledge was not where his strengths lie.

But that wasn’t all…

This civvie, this woman, was in the very heart of Imperial territory from what Tech was able to glean from scattered radio waves. In his last transmission, he was able to relay recent events to her and provide a warning to escape before anything worse happened in her vicinity.

Her.

Halla.

Contact attempts would have to be few and far between them now. He was effectively on the run from his creators and she was subject to increased surveillance in the capital.

The thought was not a pleasant one.

He was confident in his ability to take care of himself despite the circumstances, but she was just a student - albeit a rather intelligent one. Tech knew, though, that intellect and survival skills were nowhere close to being in the same category. The best he could hope for would be that she keeps her head down and book passage to a system not known for its ties with the centralized government; much like his own plan.

Redirecting his attention back towards his screen, Tech’s heel began to bounce beneath the control yoke as he began to brainstorm potential solutions. How could he provide assistance from such a distance away? What good would he be to her if they had no method of communication?

Straightening his back, Tech decided to compose a new message before he had to switch back to piloting manually.

If he was capable of modifying his signal to become untraceable (which he was and did), and he provided instructions to Halla to do the same, would it not be logical to assume their transmissions could resume without external interference?

There was a flurry of typing as Tech did all he could to explain, down to the minutiae, the process of concealing one’s transmission identifier, holonet mask, and localized device positioning mechanism.

Child’s play for him, in the grand scheme of things, but not for an individual with no engineering experience whatsoever and who had once admitted to him that she’d once fallen for a basic malware ploy that resulted in unsavory Neimoidian images to be downloaded on to a University-owned device.

On that note, Tech made an effort to be as thorough with his directions as possible.

Once the list was drawn up and revised for clarity, Tech took a moment to check the chrono once more: T-minus four minutes until the drop. Satisfied with the results of his work, Tech wrote a quick note near the top of the message and addressed it before sending it off.

Clipping the datapad back onto his utility belt, Tech began his routine of sublight prechecks.

If Crosshair couldn’t be helped right now, maybe Halla could.

~~~

Halla was not a morning person.

She did not enjoy drinking caf or planning how she was supposed to be productive that day. Most of all, she hated waking up before noon on a good day. If it weren’t for the bitterness she felt at the news she received yesterday, Halla would still gladly be nestled in bed.

But no. Here she was, bright and early at 08:00 hours, waiting for an audience with her new graduate advisor.

The administrative complex was just as big and expensive as the rest of the buildings across campus, filled with similar indoor-friendly greenery and back-breaking duraplast seating. The newest addition, besides the drab gray and white uniforms milling about, was the massive tapestries emblazoned with the newly minted Imperial cog draped liberally both in and outside all University structures.

Halla imagined they were meant to display “indomitable allegiance to the cause” or something of the like, but the only impression she was left with was how badly the shades of black clashed with the pristine white and emerald interior.

From her position in the foyer, Halla could still hear the protestors on the steps outside only meters away. It was a diverse bunch, much like the former populace of the college, all holding signs and chanting something along the lines of “hey hey, ho ho, racism’s got to go!”

It had been embarrassing to walk past them, entering the building with her loose hair as a partition between herself and the crowd. She would have joined in, and might’ve said as much to them if she weren’t trying to avoid the scrutiny of the security guards holding a barrier in place.

She was a traitor.

Halla’s meeting with the Dean was not exactly on his daily agenda. She had figured his last message counted as an open invitation, leading her to plaster on a cheerful smile at the check-in center and con her way onto the visitor list.

A list. For who exactly?

Besides a few spare personnel milling about, there was a distinct lack of student activity taking place inside. Halla never saw anyone go into the Admin Complex ahead of her, and there was no one else in the lobby to follow her up either.

They’re just wasting your time to establish authority. Be patient.

Patience was never Halla’s strong suit.

Eons (or maybe just another handful of minutes) passed before the receptionist flagged her down and led her to the lift. Riding up to the story hosting the Dean’s Offices, Halla was cast off to the next administrator who directed her to stand outside a room labeled Aurek Suite.

The pneumatic door opened, though no one was standing at the control panel. Instead, a man was sitting behind a barren desk, the high back of his chair rising over his head.

Arlin Sreetus looked to be the poster boy of the imposing aesthetic his employer was implementing across the planet. Perfectly parted hair, piercing blue eyes, and not a speck on his uniform. Neat, clean, manicured down to a level that was almost unsettling to gaze upon.

Halla felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

She wasn’t prepared for when he opened his mouth.

“Miss Ismaren, so nice to finally match a face to its name. Please, come in and sit.” He greeted her from across the room.

Halla had to bite the inside of her mouth to prevent herself from doing something she’d regret. The Dean’s voice was not suited for the body that produced it, much too nasally and broken to fit the façade that went along with his flawless white jacket.

Once she trusted herself to speak again, Halla released the inside of her cheek from between her molars, quickly striding across the office and finding her seat across from the Dean.

How am I supposed to stay angry with this slime when I’m too busy trying to keep myself from laughing?

“Good morning,” Halla greeted, tone as stiff as she could manage.

Sreetus glanced at the terminal in front of him before addressing Halla again.

“I see you’ve received my message,” he said.

“I have,” she responded.

He raised his eyebrows, and Halla had to wonder if he even knew she wasn’t here to be on friendly terms.

"I've reviewed your academic profile," he started. “Impressive credentials you have here… near-perfect grade point, published research commendations, federal volunteer work.” His eyes continued to flit back and forth between her and his screen as he spoke. “Very impressive, indeed.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Halla deadpanned.

The Dean’s nose twitched, barely noticeable but present nonetheless.

“I also noticed while reviewing your file that you have yet to register for your chain code. Every Imperial citizen is required to have one. Is there a reason you don’t?” He asked patronizingly.

Halla froze for only a half second before she attempted to brush the question off.

“I was planning on getting around to it soon. I’ve been rather busy with my research, as you could imagine.” She said pointedly.

Sreetus leaned back in his chair, blue-and-red rank plaque upon his chest shining under the bright fluorescent lighting. “Ah, yes. Your clone studies. I’m glad you decided to visit today so we can redirect you towards more…productive outlets.”

Halla bristled, “With all due respect,” which is none, “I believe my current track is the most productive use of my time. You can see from my portfolio, I’ve worked in this area for the past few yea-”.

Sreetus spoke up, effectively steamrolling over her protests before she could even elaborate on her position.

“Yes, yes, I’m aware of your past endeavors Miss Ismaren,” he groused. “No need to recount every detail.”

“But, I-”.

“There are better opportunities for you now, Miss Ismaren. I understand you hold special interests, but it is time to leave them in the past. The present is where you need to be, with the rest of us - helping to drive society forward.”

More like helping to send it into an authoritarian backslide.

Her silence prompted him to keep speaking, not that there was much time to pipe up anyway.

“You’re lucky, you know. To have such connections in your life capable of putting your name forward for such an exclusive position.”

If anything in the past twenty-four hours took Halla off guard, that comment was it.

“I’m…not sure what you mean.”

“An in. An assignment within the Imperial Service Corps. - the Security Bureau.” Despite the smug look on his face, Halla got the sense that behind his words lay a twinge of envy. “A personal recommendation from your father.”

No.

That couldn't be right.

“Sorry, you must be mistaken. My father, my biological father - we don’t speak. I haven’t seen him since I was eleven, haven’t heard anything from him directly since the start of the war. And besides, he has nothing to do with Security or whatever Service Corps. you’re talking about. He’s been in the Navy his entire career.”

Sreetus pushed on, “Forgive me then, for assuming you held contact. His surname was never redacted from your official record,” He cleared his throat and began reading off his screen. “Age: twenty-two, birthplace: Coruscant, full legal name: Hal’lazorinda Naimina Sileas Ismaren-Y-”.

Before he had the chance to finish his recitation, Halla found herself cutting him off, “I don’t go by that name. Ever.”

“And yet you use the rest…” He huffed under his breath. “Despite your…strained familial relationship, I am not mistaken. Your father’s honorable service during these past years has earned him his new position within the ISB. The request has been logged and attached to your file.” Reaching into a side drawer, Sreetus pulled out a datapad and set it squarely in front of her, already loaded with a page full of text displayed.

Taking a deep breath, Halla kept her gaze steady on the man in front of her as she reached for the device, only lowering her gaze once it was in her possession. She took a moment to skim through the first paragraph, then scrolled down to the bottom to see her father’s digital signature signing off.

Halla was dumbfounded. Why would he do something like this for her? Why now?

Feeling that she’d seen enough, Halla returned the datapad to the desk in front of her. During her review of the document, her brows had furrowed so deeply that she knew she would have a headache coming on later. All she could think about was her father’s blurry face imposed on the body of the grumpy UC archive officer.

“Now that you understand the full extent of the situation, I must counsel you to follow through with this offer. Not many your age have the chance to pass directly into the Corps. with the minimal training you have. Your only requirement would be to fulfill the Royal Imperial Academy’s junior officer preparation, maybe a basic close combat course once you are stationed. From there, you can climb to any other position you deem worthy.

Given your father’s status and the Emperor’s need for the brightest minds to fulfill his vision, the position has been tailored for you, specifically. Despite the nature of your outdated research,” Halla had to bite back a scathing remark at that comment, “you will be a perfect fit for what has been reserved.”

Halla found her head shaking ever so slightly as he finished his tirade. She had to play this safe to avoid skepticism of her loyalty, but was finding that harder and harder to do the longer this meeting went on.

“While that sounds…promising, I really have no intention of relocating anywhere without knowing where it is. Is this position intended to keep me on Coruscant?”

Sreetus pressed his thin lips together before speaking, “I am not at liberty to say. Given the confidential nature of this assignment, even I am not privy to its location. The ISB would be the organization briefing you, not the University.”

And yet you know so much about everything else…

The air around them was tense as a stare-off commenced across the desk, Halla schooling her features to match his.

He broke first. Halla’s one victory of the day.

“I sense we may be at an impasse right now. Take the day to think of what I’ve said, I will confer with the Bureau Chief and let him know I’ve spoken with you.”

Halla tilted her head and grinned, though she was sure it came off a little more sarcastically than she intended. “No issue.”

Rising from her seat, Halla turned her back on the whiny sycophant and made her way back toward the exit.

“Miss Ismaren.” Halla halted inches from the door, but did not turn around. His voice was the most severe it had been all morning.

“You would do well to learn just how far His Majesty’s power reaches. You will either join and thrive, or you may only get far enough to learn what it means to be against him. Do choose wisely, young lady. Oh, and don’t forget to register for your chain code.”

Halla didn’t remember how she found herself back downstairs, head overtaken by the dense fog of the Dean’s hidden threats.

The streets were mysteriously empty of protestors when Halla left the lobby.

~~~

Date of Transmission: 1,013:04:18

Recipient: Tech

Subject: Re: Comms Assistance

I followed your instructions to the letter, I hope I did everything right. Thought it was funny you bothered to assign me a code name - remind me to ask you about it some other time. Wanted to send a quick message to tell you my line is secure now, though I don’t know for how long now after this morning.

I met with a Uni rep who tried to recruit me into a service corps. Asked about a chain code? Didn’t know if you had any info. Either way, I’m on my way to the port to book passage off-world like you said. Will update you when done.

Stay safe out there,

Zenith

*Transceiver Identification: 02-91-31.cv.modified*

~~~

“What do you mean my credits aren’t valid? They’re galactic standard!”

A tinny response came from behind the transparisteel partition, the attendant droid repeating its earlier message: “Please be advised: your payment method has been declined. We ask that you exchange your outdated currency at the Commerce Bureau and return with the correct tender, along with a valid chain code to access the flight directory. Have a pleasant day!”

“I don’t know what you mean by outdated. Credits are credits!”

The droid’s optical sensors seemed to bore into her. Halla crossed her arms.

“Please be advised: your payment method has been declined. We ask that you exchange your outdated currency at the Commerce Bureau and return with the correct tender, along with a valid chain code to access the flight directory. Have a pleasant day!”

Halla glared up at the booth, scooping her credit chit back with more force than necessary. Pushing away from the service shelf, she couldn’t help but throw a venomous “Go to Hell!” over her shoulder. The droid only called the next person in line to come forward.

Turning on her heel, Halla stalked back to the self-checkout kiosk and punched in her information again.

And again.

Each time, a blinking red alert popped up with a message similar to that from the service desk.

Invalid Identification. Please see an attendant for assistance. Have a pleasant day!

“Blast it!” No matter the destination, no matter the departure date, all itineraries were locked behind a paywall, accessible only by, you guessed it, the correct tender and a valid chain code.

Before she could make a scene by tearing her hair out in the middle of the Spaceport, Halla stowed her chits and stalked out of the Boarding Registry.

~~~

Looking back on that awful day, Halla didn’t know why she expected it to get any better once she left the port.

Arriving back at her apartment went about the same as it normally would, except for when she stepped off the 19th-floor lift and rounded the corner to find her front door missing.

Or rather, her front door was wide open for the whole building to see inside.

Surging forward, Halla gripped her doorjamb and surveyed the interior.

“Hello? Who’s there?” Her voice shook against her will.

No reply.

With great caution, Halla entered her sitting room.

Silence.

She began to check out every inch of the space, from the floor to the ceiling and everything in between to find anything amiss.

Bewildered, Halla took a step back.

If someone had entered her home, they’d done a lousy job of burglarizing her.

Everything was as it should’ve been. Her plants, her holovids, the art on the walls, all still in their rightful place. Even Boonta was still floating around his tank without a care in the world.

Did the door just…malfunction?

For all the grief it’d given Halla over the years, the entrance’s one redeeming quality was that it was secure. It had never just opened up on its own accord before.

Padding into her bedroom, she continued to look around and take her valuables into account.

That was until she came upon her workspace.

On the ground beneath her desk was a large gap.

A large, empty gap where her holoterminal used to be.

Halla felt the blood drain from her face as her eyes went wide behind her specs.

Kriff.

Fuck!

There’s no way this is happening…

Wheeling around, she began searching every nook and cranny of her apartment for the missing console, even the spots she knew would be too small to fit it.

Halla had everything on that machine. Everything.

Her contacts, her financial information, the full draft of her dissertation.

Her entire life’s research.

Gone. All gone.

Halla stopped looking. She considered her options before going back out into the main hallway. She was sure her neighbors didn’t appreciate the way she was repeatedly punching their buzzers, but she didn’t know what else to do. Half of them didn’t open up and those that did claimed nothing out of the ordinary happened that day when asked if they had any clue what happened.

Dejected, Halla returned to her apartment making sure to enforce another lock if only to create a false sense of safety.

Safety, my ass.

She paced around for about a minute or two, running her hands over her forearms. Two minutes turned into ten.

Then twenty.

Then thirty.

She could only reach one conclusion, as paranoid as it made her come across; the same person - or group - that did this was the same as who she should’ve been reporting the crime to.

This was no petty theft. This had to be intentional.

Recollections began to invade her mind; Sreetus’ ominous warning, the apparent leeriness around her not being a registered citizen, and the Imperial officer she’d seen occupy her terminal in the UC archive.

She’d given no thought about the latter since it happened, but now she couldn’t help but think he was following her digital trail, digging into whatever he could scavenge from her session.

Halla had wiped her search history, but…

Leave it to the security agency to be able to pull it back up.

Letting out a defeated moan, she slapped her palm across her forehead.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Halla ended up hunkered down in the sitting room for the rest of the night. She felt like a stranger in her own home, vigilant of intruders that might return at any time.

Lying on her sofa, she kept a hand on the go-bag she packed earlier in the evening. The pack included any and all essentials she would need in case a quick getaway was needed: her personal datapad (that still had all the supplemental research she downloaded, thank the Maker), its powerpack, her data and credit chits, and a hygiene bag containing her toothbrush, dental gel, deodorant, hair brush, a travel razor, and other similar items.

Her extra set of glasses, contact pods, and a small medkit she kept stowed under her kitchen sink were also shoved down too. An extra set of boots were folded up at the bottom of the main compartment with as many leggings, tunics, sweaters, camisoles, and underwear as she could roll up laying on top of them. The side pockets were bulging with her filtered water bottle on one side and non-perishable snack foods on the other.

It was hard to prioritize what to leave behind, even in a hypothetical scenario. Halla treasured her possessions: her makeup, her jewelry, her art, and her music collection, not to mention her collection of flimsi-bound books she’d accumulated over the years, uncommon as they were.

In the end, she decided to place only the earrings she’d inherited from her grandmonna in a small pouch and wear the matching pendant around her neck for safekeeping. The music was already downloaded onto her datapad, and most of the art was obviously too large to fit in the pack, sans her sketch diary and a pouch of drawing implements which she included on impulse. After careful deliberation, Halla decided to choose one particular flimsi novel from her shelf to keep with her, due to its objective value as an antique as well as the number of times it’d been read since the initial purchase.

Halla had practiced walking around her apartment with the go-bag strapped to her back, adjusting the order of its contents as needed. Once she was satisfied, she decided to make camp out where she could be the most aware of her surroundings.

Every sudden noise made her flinch as she tossed and turned her head, never shifting from the position on her back as uncomfortable as it was. No amount of breathing exercises or words of affirmation made her feel any more secure.

How do I know I’m not being watched right now?

Time passed slowly in the dark as Halla thought of her odds of escape.

In her mind, she created a chart of pros and cons when it came to registering herself, if only to have the opportunity to get off-planet.

Pro: I’ll have access to credits that work again.

Con: Who knows what they’ll do with the information I give them?

Pro: I’ll be able to book passage out of here.

Con: What if they’re able to track where I go?

Pro: It’ll get everyone who thinks I’m against them off my back.

Con: I am against them.

Pro: It would draw attention away from-

Halla gasped, eyes flying open to stare at the ceiling.

From Tech. It would draw attention away from Tech.

He was on the run right now with the rest of his squad with a little girl in the mix now. If Halla submitted to the registry, the suspicion of her (and them by proxy) would ease up. For the Maker’s sake, she had regular correspondence with him stored on her now-confiscated holoterminal! The last few messages were never uploaded to the main drive, as they only existed on her portable device, but she couldn’t risk their safety for her own selfishness. She was risking potential charges of treason or conspiracy at this point.

If I just go and do it, maybe they won’t feel the need to snoop around more than they already have…

The decision began solidifying in her mind, despite the apprehension of what might come after.

Halla fell into a fitful sleep, fingers still clutched around the strap of the bag that rested below her.

~~~

The local Coruscanti star’s natural light didn’t reach the level Halla’s apartment resided on, so she had to rely on the day cycle atmospheric controls to tell when daybreak was.

Back aching and eyes half open, Halla bathed and dressed while her morning tea was heating up. Travel mug and protein bar in hand, she made her way to the Commerce Bureau before the line could get too long.

Spending more time there than she had anticipated, she emerged hours later with a pit in her stomach, a pouch full of polished silver credits, and a new chaincode embedded in a rather unambiguous ID card.

Soon after she returned home, Halla composed a message from her school address:

Date of Transmission: 1,013:04:19

Recipient: Arlin Sreetus, Dean

Subject: Chain Code Acquisition

Dean Sreetus,

This morning I was able to obtain my chain code, I thought you would have liked to know. I’ve considered the offer you conveyed to me and have chosen to accept. Please inform the appropriate figures in this matter that I am able to begin as soon as is convenient.

Good day,

Halla Ismaren

University of Coruscant

College of Interplanetary Law & Relations

Capital Campus

Halla wanted to feel confident in her decision, but all she felt was numb all over.

Like she had just signed her own death warrant.

She didn’t look at her datapad for the rest of the day.

This is for them.

This is the right thing to do.

~~~

Inbox: (1) Unread

Date of Transmission: 1,013:04:19

Recipient: Zenith

Subject: Chain Codes

Zenith,

I am pleased you found my instructions comprehensible, however, this is not the main issue I wish to address.

I assume you encountered difficulties while at your local spaceport due to not having a chain code in your possession. We also have run into trouble because of this new database. We were able to rectify this issue for ourselves, but I must warn you about the dangers surrounding these identifiers. If you provide me additional time, I will come up with a solution for you to get around these requirements as well.

I do not presume to direct your actions; I can only provide my opinion based on what I have seen during my latest travels.

Under no circumstances should you obtain one of these codes voluntarily. I will be able to elaborate at a later date, all I ask is that in the meantime you take my judgment into account.

-Tech

~~~~~~

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