Proving Ground

[Aiden Tahmores]

It was early. Too early. Way too early. An 0530 wake-up for the 0615 pre-brief that came before his usual shift rotation had been tough to grow accustomed to, particularly on the Planet That Never Sleeps - or whatever redundant nickname they were applying to Imperial Center these days - but he'd eventually wrestled his body clock into compliance, and the 0700 to 1100 morning shift was still one of his favourites, particularly when he managed to score the highly sought-after guard post between the Empress' chambers and her private kitchen. Even the leftovers from the fancy cuisine that Miss Tarkin - or Mrs Tagge, or however her publicist had decided she should be referred to this week - had prepared for her was better than anything the grunt guards were fed down in the mess.

The term 'grunt guard' was the derrogatory nickname that many of the staff at the Imperial Palace used to refer to any of the security staff who weren't either members of the Imperial Security Bureau, or the scarily mysterious red-clad Imperial Guards. For the most part, it consisted of officers drawn from the Stormtrooper Corps, many of whom were veterans from Doldur's garrison who had been hand-picked by ISB Agent Elias Akasha to serve Tarkin on 'Center now she was the Empress. Aiden was an exception to the norm however; he had been one of the pilots on the Doldur payroll, who had been incorporated into the security staff as one of the few people who were permitted to pilot a ship that the Empress was flying in. Of course, while the Empress remained on Imperial Center there was little for him to actually do, so he had volunteered to pull shifts with the security detail whenever his other responsibilities permitted.

Unfortunately, given the visual similarity between Starfighter and Stormtrooper Corps uniforms, precious few were aware of the subtle but important difference.

But no: if 0530 was too early, then this was leagues beyond that. He was so tired that he could barely see, and had a sneaking suspicion that he had attatched his rank insignia to his uniform upside down. It wasn't as if he'd had the opportunity to prepare with an early night, either: at 0400 exactly, he'd recieved an urgent summons to one of the conference rooms in the security zone of the Palace. He hadn't recognised the name, but given the hour that didn't really mean anything. Hell, it could have been his own mother, and we would have been none the wiser given how his brain was coping with the ungodly hour.

He dug the heel of his hand into one of his bleary eyes, smudging the haze over his vision away for just long enough to read the alphanumerics adorning the walls of the corridor. He counted a few paces, and reached the relevant door: Conference Room 1137. With a sigh that rapidly transformed into a yawn, he retrieved the access card from within his uniform, jammed it into the reader on the door frame, and waited for the computerised security system to grant him entrance.

[Eerika Praji]

The door slid opened with a familiar hiss all Imperial operatives were accustomed too. But for Agent Tahmores, the opulence of the Empress' suite had been replaced by the spartan furnishings of this brightly lit, and very white, conference room. Everything present was all that was required: Four black, and rather uncomfortable, standard chairs, a glass framed table, and a viewscreen on the far wall.

To the far left of the table, a slender woman of unknown rank stood at ease, but Tahmores was quick to notice that the uniform she wore was identical to the one that Agent Elias Akasha had worn in their dealings. Blonde hair was tightly pulled back into a braid, which narrowed her face further. Light make-up was applied to give some color to the woman's lips and pale face. Blue eyes were cold and calculating as they sized up the lackadaisical manner in which Agent Tahmores entered the room. A small twitch at the side of her lips showed the smallest hint of displeasure.

Eyes shifted briefly to the table before any formality or introductions were completely ignored. "Sit."

He could hear it in her voice. The crisp assured tenor of authority. As he approached, he could tell that she was seasoned as a member of the Imperial Regime, yet age was undetermined. Though soft of face, there were wrinkles that had just started to form around her now serious eyes.

[Aiden Tahmores]

If Aiden had ever complained about the over abundance of language and monologue in the bureaucratic, diplomatic, and other types of matic individuals he was forced to encounter on a daily basis, he instantly withdrew every word of malcontent. He'd happily take the long-winded verbal onslaught of the self-important and casually ignorant visitors who saught an audience with Empress Tarkin, over the chilling, penetrating gaze of the woman before him, and her stern, clipped words.

He did as he was told, of course, parking himself into the seat that positioned him as far away from the woman as possible; people might not think too highly of shuttle pilots within the Imperial Navy, but contrary to their reputation they weren't entirely stupid.

Given the clean lines and spartan decor of the room into which he'd been invited, he awkwardly took care to position himself so as to conform with the room's theme. The end result was a bolt-upright posture in the seat that made him look more like a Cadet on review than a seasoned Imperial Officer, but Aiden didn't for a second doubt that the woman before him could conjure the same discomfort in even the most veteran of Officers, if she chose to.

He interlaced his fingers in front of him and, after letting his eyes roam around the room for a few awkward moments during which neither of them spoke, threw her a nervous smile. "This is the right room, right?" he asked, hoping a few friendly words might fracture the icy air that surrounded her. He unleashed a faint breath of laughter. "These corridors get pretty confusing."

No reaction came from the woman. The smile on his lips faltered. No apparent appreciation for your sense of humour, his subconscious jabbed at him harshly, while a grim, sinking feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. Such a shame, 'cause your jokes are usually such a hit with the ladies.

[Eerika Praji]

Nostrils flared briefly once, the only shred of irritation allowed to be demonstrated before the impassively stone features returned. Still no introductions were given. She rather not hear his irritating undisciplined tone until the reason for his summons had been given.

With mechanical precision, her left arm moved only enough to press the keypad upon the desk before her before stepping to the side so that the viewscreen behind her was visible for Tahmores. To the pilot's surprise, Agent Elias Akasha's face illuminated the screen ...

[Elias Akasha]

"Commander Tahmores."

Elias tone was level, calm and formal; his eyes and expression betrayed no emotions whatsoever. His words were carefully chosen, his Kuati accent softening the verbs to provide that delicate formality that graced the vocals of so many densiens of the Core worlds.

"This is Agent Eerika Praji -" The recording had been made some hours before, but apparently Praji had been careful to position herself on the appropriate side of the screen, to correspond with the gesture that Elias delivered. "She will be able to provide you with specifics on your new assignment." He hesitated, allowing a pause for Aiden to process the information being presented to him. "I have been sent to Serenno by the Empress; while I am absent from Imperial Center you, with the assistance of Agent Praji, will act as my replacement."

"You are already familiar with the Empress' schedule; Miss Praji will bring you up to speed on the specifics of your additional duties and responsibilities." A brief whisper of a smile appeared on his features; it disappeared in an eyeblink however, his expression turning slightly grim. "I recommended you for this assignment personally. Hold the fort, Commander; and don't let me down."

[Aiden Tahmores]

As the screen turned dark again, his superior's visage disappearing, Aiden stared silently in its direction. A hand rose to his face; wove its way through his hair. He looked casually in Praji's direction, half expecting a smirk that would reveal that this was some sort of prank at his expense. No such reassurance graced the women's features: just the same, disconcerting mask of nothingness looked back at him.

"So." It was a disconnected statement, not intended to lead into any statement in particular; it was just the most profound thing his vocals could muster at the point. Guarding the Empress? his subconscious hissed at him. Granted, he had spent the last several years in the presence of Miranda Tarkin, but there was a difference between his role - his responsibility was to sit down, shut up, and fly the damn ship; his encounters with Tarkin herself had been, for the most part, merely parting pleasantries. He had no idea what it was that Elias got up to in her presence, but given the immense, bear-like size of the man, he was having a hard time comprehending the notion that he would make an appropriate replacement.

Finally, he mustered a few extra words to his lips. He frowned, and glanced down at his generic Imperial uniform, wearing the expected adornments of a pilot officer. He turned his attention to the woman in the room with him. "Does this mean I need a new wardrobe?"

[Eerika Praji]

Tahmores watched as the woman steeled herself with a rigid stance and was blissfully ignorant as to the tight fists well hidden behind her back. Praji's control was impeccable. She would not let his childish humor break her precise training bestowed onto her by Emperor Palpatine.

"A quick tongue will only get you killed. And if your life is snuffed out by any adversaries that wish to harm our Empress, I will be severely put out that I did not kill you when I had the chance today." Her voice was calm, but unnaturally cold that Tahmores felt as if he should retreat into the far corner of the room.

"I am not your mother, nor sister or friend. What I am is your Instructor and you will act accordingly in my presence." Blue eyes dimmed as they narrowed. "Is that understood?"

[Aiden Tahmores]

The colour drained from Aiden's face. His body willed for him to shrink away from her icy gaze, but found that the chair in which he sat obstructed his escape. For years, he had relied on the reassuring warmth of humour to protect him in tense and uncomfortable situations; it seemed that trend was due to end. A change from witty to quick-witted was required.

He swallowed hard against the dryness that had gripped his throat. He fought against his urges for escape; battled a small shred of confidence into his words. "It is," he managed to utter, somehow even managing to hold her gaze; though he didn't for a second doubt that the full spectrum of his emotions were openly displayed within.

His brows puzzled as that awkward silence returned yet again. With small talk excluded as an option to shatter it, he mused over what other options he might have. "How do we begin?" he settled upon; a little eagerness towards the task at hand, to restore some of the confidence she had no doubt lost in his suitability for these new responsibilities.

[Eerika Praji]

Praji's jaw clenched and Tahmores saw a slight flicker of annoyance rippled through her cheek.

"'How do we begin?' ... what?" She needed to bring him back to Boot Camp. Relearn the respect that was molded as new soldiers were taken into the fold. Praji's didn't give a bantha's ass if this Fighter Jockey liked her at all. Her job was to create an inconspicuous bodyguard out of this glib man so that the throne would be protected.

[Aiden Tahmores]

Tahmores flinched a little at the added harshness in her voice. "My training," he answered, frowning slightly. "Do we start with close quarters combat training, or -"

Wrong answer, apparently. Though her expression shifted only a little, Aiden had already recalibrated his perceptions to match what little emotion she betrayed visually, and could plainly see the rising threat as her muscles shifted beneath the uniform that the Empress' staff had so carefully designed.

We winced, searching his mind for an alternate interpretation. "How do we begin...sir?" he tried, carefully. "Ma'am?"

[Eerika Praji]

The tenseness in her face finally evened out as she nodded curtly as she finally answered his previous question, "Better. And no, you won't be requiring a new uniform until you've earned it."

Fingers flexed once before returning into a curled, but now loose, position behind her. "You are unassuming as a pilot. Most do not notice you and that gives us an advantage to work with. By strengthening your hand to hand and weapons skills, you can quite possibly be a Wild Card in case something happens to Empress Tarkin. There is also the possibility of accompanying me on missions off world if the need arises. As one of the elite Crimson Guards, you are sworn to give your life to the Empress but sometimes that means leaving her side in order to contain discord elsewhere."

Her pause was purposeful as eyes widened down towards him, giving him the chance to speak his mind. "Any comments or questions?"

But it did not mean that Praji welcomed them.

[Aiden Tahmores]

An unassuming pilot? A retort formed on the tip of his tongue, but a momentary lapse into better judgement held it at bay. Through the somewhat warped mentality of the woman in front of him, her criticism had apparently been intended as some sort of compliment; one of those double-edged sorts of ones, like being cast in a holomovie because you have exactly the right look to pull off the socially outcast and unattractive lead.

She also seemed to be under the illusion that his weapons skills needed improving. While granted, he was hardly an elite Stormtrooper when it came to shooting, he was pretty handy with the standard issue blaster that TIE Pilots carried as a matter of course; and since being streamed onto shuttles, he'd done all the requisite training on a number of other standard issue weapons as well. It was hardly Imperial policy, but he'd tried to make a habit of being trained in shooting whatever equipment was likely to find its way into the back of his shuttle, just in case he found himself grabbing and using the first weapon that came to hand.

He decided not to vocalise that particular wave of smugness, however. Nor did he rise to the invitation to comment that Praji baited him with. Aiden might be unassuming, but he wasn't stupid; or at least, he was smart enough to learn from his mistakes, and in this instance it seemed that daring to talk certainly qualified as one. The mention of Crimson Guards did make him a little giddy, though. He'd always wanted a cape, ever since the holomovies had made them cool.

"No questions, ma'am," he said, forcing calm and a little respect into his voice; or at least, trying to. "I'm ready to begin, whenever you are."

[Eerika Praji]

She could feel it. On the very tip of his tongue were well planned retorts that would point out any inconsistencies in her assessment that he felt were overlooked or unfair. All that came out of his mouth was forced respect and that was fine by Praji. At least he was learning.

"We begin tomorrow at dawn." Her hand lowered to a touch screen on the table and the monitor in front of Tahmores lit up. "In Sub-Basement M. All the information on how to arrive there is listed before you."

Sub-Basement M was just one of many training facilities scattered about Coruscant in order to train the Crimson Guards. People knew that it existed, it was just never spoken in mix company.

Searching her back pocket, Praji threw a fresh Identicard across the table. "You will wear this with your uniform, otherwise you will not be allowed entrance. If you are late, you will also not be allowed entrance."

[Aiden Tahmores]

If your weight has altered by more than a fraction of a percent, you will trip the pressure sensors, detonate a thermal explosive that blasts you to oblivion; and your remains will not be allowed entrance.

The humerous muttering of his subconscious were necessary, to stave off the wave of panic and nausia that the mention of Sub-Basement M would otherwise conjure. He'd heard of it, of course; he wasn't a complete idiot. No one who served on Coruscant hadn't heard the rumours of what they did down there. The Crimson Guards themselves were mysterious enough, and while Aiden had managed to see the faces of a few of them - enough to assume that they weren't all super-advanced battle droids, freakish barely humanoid aliens or anything like that - their selection process, and their training, was a subject of hot debate amongst the more mainstream officers of the palace staff. There were even rumours that, back in the day, guards had to win a melee duel to the death in order to secure their place amongst the Empire's elite.

Fingers plucking the flexiplast card from the table and rotated it idly in his grip, his stared blankly in its general direction and wondered how much of a choice he had in all this. The threat of being denied entrance: was that his opportunity to turn away? By arriving on time, was he agreeing to accept this mysterious assignment, with all the danger it potentially imposed? And what happened if he failed to meet that appointment? Was finding out that answer worth the risk?

He ripped his eyes away; threw his gaze in Praji's direction. "Tomorrow at dawn," he echoed with a nod, though his brows were barely held at bay from their quest to weave into a frown. His vision dropped to the card again; a knot of worry tightened in his gut. "I won't be late."

[Eerika Praji]

The Next Day - 0437

The gridded training room housed the echoes of weapons clanging against one another in combat, as well as the grunts of the young man that had been tossed on his derriere for the third time this morning. Praji had managed to lock his fighting pike and swing it away so that she could sweep his legs out from underneath him in the next move. Twirling the weapon with one hand with such grace, she back stepped without a sound and waited for Tahmores to stand. It was a good enough time to catch her breath.

The light black padded suits provided enough flexibility to practice, but it didn't do much to temper the blows coming Tahmores way. His teacher was not holding back.

[Aiden Tahmores]

This time, the impact hurt less than it had before. Or rather, he percieved it as hurting less; it was all relative, really. Compared to the constant ache that pretty much permeated his entire body at this point, the occasional peaks from each individual impact barely registered anymore. He lingered on the floor for a few moments longer this time, allowing himself to consider what colour he would likely turn when this was over, and to be thankful that his uniform would posess enough fabric to hide the worst of the bruising. He was already formulating his possible excuses in case anyone noticed and asked, to preserve his modesty: currently he was leaning towards Wookiees. A whole damn gang of Wookiees. Or possibly Jedi ninjas.

With effort, he peeled himself off the not-particularly-padded floor, groaning as his fatigued muscles issued protest. "Not meaning to critique your teaching style," he grunted, leaning on his polearm a little for support, "But shouldn't you be teaching me some moves, rather than beating up on me the whole time? Doesn't feel like I'm actually learning any-"

Praji's pike lanced out, swinging around the outside on a collision course for the side of his head. Reflex snapped out an arm to block it, but with his own pike acting as more of a crutch than a weapon, all he had to combat the impact was flesh and bone. A new supernova of hurt exploded in his forearm, pain shooting both directions, towards his wrist and elbow. A sharp intake of breath was all he managed to produce before Praji quickly adjusted her stance and grip, inverting her weapon and swinging the blunt end towards the opposite, exposed side of Aiden's head.

His vision swam as the clubbing blow hit, tossing him from his feet and landing him in a heap on the ground. Clouds of foginess and colour danced before his eyes; he blinked furiously, trying to clear his gaze. He pushed against the ground, but his battered arm screamed out a fresh protest; he tumbled, rolling flat onto his back. "Ouch," he wheezed, shutting his eyes tightly in the vain hope that she wouldn't attack him when he was down.

Yeah, his mind muttered. A gang of Wookiees and Jedi ninjas.

[Eerika Praji]

And she did not. Praji fell into a defensive stance, her weapon loosely held at her side with the weapon facing downwards. "You have had training in the past. In order to teach you effectively, I must evaluate your strengths and weaknesses."

She spoke as if Tahmores should already realize this, but today her voice held a modicum of patience then the day previously, pleasantly surprised that this pilot had some semblance of a background in hand to hand and close range weapons.

Kneeling to the mat, Praji almost reverantly placed the weapon down before standing once more regarding her student. Eyes narrowed sharply in evaluation, but Tahmores was unawares that she had been probing his body with the Force to ensure he was not concussed.

"You may rest." Satisfied that he would recover, the Blonde went to refresh herself with some water that was on the back table. Since he first stepped into this room 45 minutes prior, and no matter how often he was beaten into submission, Tahmores had not given up and did fight back with everything he could muster. The wiser and more experienced Guard was no match for him. Decades of training under the Inquisitors and Palpatine himself, molded the stately Blonde into an effective instrument for killing.

[Aiden Tahmores]

Evaluating strengths and weaknesses. Yeah, right. As if she wasn't taking far too much enjoyment from beating the crap out of him. Granted, they did say that the best way to get to know an opponent was to actually fight them yourself; there was only so much that video footage and training reports could inform you. Or at least, that's what the preamble for unarmed combat training in the officers' handbook informed him.

As he had been instructed, Aiden had tried to do the same; but the mixture of forms, and the unpredictable fluidity of the style in which Praji had attacked just extended the unfathomable mystery that surrounded her. As he lay there, limbs aching from her onslaught, understanding her morphed from a mere curiosity to a full challenge: maybe he couldn't outmatch her, or outsmart her; but if he searched long enough, maybe there'd be a chink in her armour that he could exploit.

Easing himself back to his feet with the weapon as a crutch, he rolled his effort-addled shoulders, trying to loosen the muscles that threatened to cramp if he remained still for too long. He shifted his balance fully onto his feet; approximated some sort of defensive stance, and twirled his weapon into position, ready to - hopefully - counter whatever Praji threw at him next.

"Fourty-five minutes is hardly enough time to evaluate my myriad strengths and weaknesses," he stated, hesitating slightly as he replayed the words in his mind, and decided he probably should have skipped the last two words. No matter. He tensed the muscles in his arms, inviting her to strike. "Lets try this again."

[Eerika Praji]

With a quiet sigh, Praji set down her cup and half turned to her student. "I've been doing this for quite a long time, Tahmores. Assessing my opponents in the matter of a scant few minutes has become second nature to me."

Crossing her arms, she casually leaned against the table. The pilot had never seen her so relaxed before. "What exactly are you trying to prove?"

[Aiden Tahmores]

"Permission to speak freely?"

Praji signalled her concent; adjusting his grip to shift his weapon into some sort of at ease position, Aiden allowed himself a breath to gather his thoughts. "For as long as you've been evaluating me," he said slowly, choosing his words as carefully as he could, "I've been evaluating you. Now granted, my skills aren't as attuned as yours: but from what I've seen so far, I get the impression that you don't like me." He held up a defensive hand to forstall any comment. "And that's fine; you're here to train me, and not to like me. I know that. It's just -"

His words cut out, lips screwing together in frustration, brow furrowing as he searched for better phrasing. "Agent Iakona recommended me for this job, right? Obviously, he thinks I'm up to it: sees some sort of potential in me. I get that you don't see it yet, and you're trying to get to know it for yourself, and that's fine. But he has known me and worked with me for years. Whatever potential there in me is probably buried pretty deep, and there is no way in hell you've given me a fair chance to display it in just fourty-five minutes."

His grip tightened on the weapon in his hands. "So c'mon," he beckoned, swinging the staff back into a ready position. "Lets keep going until we find out what I'm made of."