(OOC: Parts of this story are quite gruesome. Consider yourself warned.)
(OOC: This is the story of my character as he discovers it himself. The period of time between the death of his father and his being in the Imperial Academy are unknown to him. The psychlogical stress he faced has caused him to subconsciously block this part of this life. Therefore, the story may seem disjointed but I will, through these posts, fit it together to create the complete story.)
"Captain, the shipment of raw materials have arrived sir." The officer called from her post.
"Very well, begin the transfer." Hargraves replied from his command chair. He turned around and looked at the screen in front of him that was filming the transfer. Normally he didn't oversee routine business such this; however, in recent weeks shipments had been hampered. The crews of the ships under his command had reported frequent contacts with freighters that were empty of the cargo he had purchased. While he had the resources to cover such losses, it was far from something he wanted to do. This time, he was going to oversee the transfer himself to ensure that his crews weren't engaged in profiteering at his expense.
The Corellian Corvette, a damaged one that had been captured from a rival organization and never completely repaired, moved towards the free freighters that had entered the system. In addition to bringing the ship, Hargraves had ordered a squadron of fighters to accompany them. In recent weeks, he had been involved in a war with Kira Raltier, one of the few female smugglers in the business and someone who was ruthless in her attempts to get what she wanted. She was not without her faults, however. Most notably, Hargraves had picked up early on that she was very predictable in her operations. This had given him the upper hand as he had managed to ambush two of her larger ships and counter an ambush she had tried to create for one of his units.
Looking down at his crew made him slightly nauseous. They were performing their duties as he expected; he was very strict about efficiency and duty. However, beneath the facade that he created Hargraves knew an entirely different form of life existed. Most of these people were filthy decribed human beings. They were loyal to him because he paid well and he suspected also because he was successful. Through clever record keeping and strategy, he had managed to make a large amount of money and maintain a well-oiled operation of consider size while appearing small enough to look inconsequential in the large scheme of things. For example, today's shipment of "raw materials", a euphemism for resources that he would have processed before selling at a much higher price, would be funneled through a refinery on one planet and then shipped through a supposedly reputable shipping company to their destination. What people didn't pick up on was the fact that the shipping company was invented by him and the profits of both the contract for shipping, paid for by the purchase, and the profits from the sale, which went to the refinery which was owned by another one of his fake companies, both ended up in his coffers. It was unethical but smuggling wasn't exactly a gentlemen's game; despite the fact that he prided himself on running his operation with class.
Indeed, class was almost as important to him as being effective in his operation. Call it vanity or perhaps an extreme reaction against the filthy immoral lives of smugglers in general, but it was important to him nonetheless.
"Captain, the freighters aren't responding to our request to dock" the communications officer reported. The corvette was beside one of the freighters which, like the other two, had now stopped. It was playing out as his crews had reported back on many occasions. Freighters dead in their tracks when they reached the rendezvous point. Either Kira was more clever than he gave her credit for or somone in his logistics department was being paid off by her. He never revealed where his ships were going, not even to the captain. Instead, his logistics department pre-programmed the hyperspace drive to jump to the destination. Once on mission, the captain and executive officer of the ship would be the only ones to be informed of their mission. He knew that it wasn't one of his crews or a captain because Hargraves always randomly chose a ship for each mission. He didn't trust his crews. How could one trust such people anyhow? The officers he had choosen were deserters from either the empire or the republic. He chose them for their training and leadership skills but he hardly trusted them completely. Money was the only thing that kept such people loyal. Money that would be blown on whores, drugs, and alcohol. But nonetheless, it was something.
"Prepare to board the ship." Hargraves commanded. He stood up and quickly barked orders for the crew to prepare a boarding team. Leaving the ship's real captain in charge, he made his way down to the docking area. While he was suspicious of whether or not his people were telling the truth, he was prepared in case they were being honest. As a result, he was already in his black body armour: greaves; covers for the forearms, elbows, and upper arms; a tough chest plate; and shoulder protectors that hard little spikes along the top. He had wanted a set that looked fierce and commanding; he felt he had found just that set.
When he reached the docking area, the two ships were already docked and the passage way pressurized. Giving a quick nod, the boarding team opened the hatch and began to cut through the freighter's hatch. It took less than a minute for it to open and the team to begin climbing down. Hargraves joined them at the bottom and pulled out his weapon from his gunbelt.
"Split into two groups, meet me at the cockpit." He instructed. Seven of the men went with him while another seven went with the team leader. They quickly made their way to the upper level in the rear and moved forward towards the cockpit. "Sithspit." He stated when the team turned the corner. Two bodies were lying there in a pool of blood. The site was brutal to take in; the bodies had been shot near the shoulder on both men and their throats were slit. Making their way forward, they found six others lying in similar grotesque states. Hargraves' face remained stern as he passed by the sites. It wasn't that he was a cold person; indeed he was far from that. Instead, his emotions were that of disgust, compassion, worry, and contemplation. Why was Kira, he assumed it was Kira, why were her people murdering these crews in such brutal fashion. He had heard similar reports from other boarding teams in the past but seeing it in person and having these reports confirmed sent a cold chill down his spine.
When they reached the cockpit, the door was shut. One of the men fastened some light explosives to the door and blew it out of the frame. Inside, they found the pilot and co-pilot dead is a similar manner. However, when Hargraves saw the pilot he gagged and nearly thew up. His crews had reported this but the horror of it to see was something else entirely. The pilot was decapitated and his head and been cleaved in half right down the middle. It had then been laid down as one would split a melon.
"Captain, the cargo bays are empty." The other team reported as they reached the cockpit. Hargraves didn't even hear them, his sight was fixated on the body of the pilot. He didn't know what to make of it. "Captain?" The team leader asked. Hargraves was in a world of his own. He wanted to pull away from the sight but something was drawing him in.
Suddenly, it seemed as though the body was changing. Hargraves stared intently at it and he could have sworn that the pilot had breasts and long hair that it didn't have before. He shook his head trying to clear his mind and looked back at the body. It was a woman. And the face, though cut perfectly in half, was smiling at him. He knew this face. He recognized it. The face in its horrible disfiguration began to move as if it was trying to talk. It was-
Art started out of his dream so hard that he bounced on the bed. His body was cold and sweaty.
"Art?" Taylsha asked sleepily as she lay beside him. "Are you alright?" Art took a deep breath and tried to consider what had happened. The dream was horrible. He was sure the event had taken place but the woman at the end. What did that mean? In his dream he recognized her but it was as if his brain shut off when it was going to reveal the secret of it all. He was positive that this woman, who had appeared in other gruesome ways before in other dreams, meant something. She was the key to the puzzle perhaps. But who?
Art rose out of bed and went to get a drink. He had broken the habit of relying on it to calm his nerves but the images of the dream had shook him. Seeing the image of a decapitated head chopped in half being alive and moving was something that appeared in fiction. And yet, what did it mean? A brutally killed woman continually appeared. It must mean something. Something that horrible that continually appeared and he recognized must mean something.
Art downed the drink and sat down in a chair, his head drooping down to his lap as he thought. He was angry and upset at the same time. Angry that his subconscious was not cooperating with his desire to find out about this own life and upset at what his life, as discovered in piecemeal fashion, appeared to have been. The woman. The key to the secret. Who was she?
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FM/ESN Corran "Arturus" Hargraves/Nazgul 2/Phoenix Wing/M-SSD Atrus/VE/VEN/(=A=)(=SA=)(=*MA*=)(=JCPA=)(=SCPA=)[MC:1](x2)[SV][BRC][VC:B][LSM][LoC]
"The way of war is a way of deception. When able, feign inability; when deploying troops, appear not to be. When near, appear far; when far, appear near. Lure with bait; strike with chaos. If the enemy is full, be prepared. If strong, avoid him. If he is angry, disconcert him. If he is weak, stir him to pride. If he is relaxed, harry him; if his men are harmonious, split them. Attack where he is unprepared; appear where you are unexpected. This is victory in warfare; it cannot be divulged in advance. Victory belongs to the side that scores most in the temple calculations before battle. Most spells victory; least spells defeat; none, surer defeat. I see it in this way, and the outcome is apparent." -- Sun Tzu
"Ultimate excellence lies not in winning every battle but in defeating the enemy without ever fighting." -- Sun Tzu