[ISBI] Meltdown

[Ethan Tahmores]

ISB Central Office, Imperial Center

Ethan stood, hands clasped behind his back as he stared out at the cityscape spread out before him. Coruscant, or Imperial Center, or whatever else the bureaucrats and politicians had decided to call it this week, rumbled on without hesitation as the civilians and citizens of the Galactic Empire went about their daily lives. While ordinarily he would have loathed the notion of standing idly, engaging in such an apparent waste of potentially valuable time, there were occasions when he felt it was important to reconnect with the world outside the walls of the Imperial Security Bureau. Too many of his people lost sight and touch with who and what they were working to protect; they became so obsessed with rooting out the insidious evil that pervaded their line of work that they forgot their mandate - to protect and serve - and began to see threats lurking around every shoulder; jumping at shadows.

With effort, Colonel Tahmores peeled his eyes away, and turned back into the room where a woman clad in the unflattering off-white of ISB's official uniform stood patiently waiting. Tahmores himself avoided the things at every opportunity; currently, he was sporting the same plain black that he'd worn back as a Stormtrooper, as he generally did ever since he'd politely informed the Security Bureau's Director of Investigations that "The only way you're getting me to wear anything that colour again is if it's made of duraplast and shaped like Stormtrooper armour."

Speaking of the Director; he turned towards the desk of the man who had kindly loaned him the office while he was out having 'buffet and drinks' with some high-flying political types, and glanced briefly at the open file, reproduced on several sheets of flimsy so he could avoid the abhorrant data terminal mounted to his desk. Ordinarily, he would have loathed being here, trapped within the confines of the overly-grand and stuffy office, but there were some conversations that just weren't appropriate for the open-plan workspace where Tahmores and his team usually spent their day. This was one of those occasions.

"So," he said eventually, eyes lingering on the report for a moment longer before clambering their way up to meet with the woman's gaze. "I see you've put in a request to transfer from Surveillance to Investigations, and become a Field-certified Agent." Despite the complete lack of aggression or malace in his expression or posture, his eyes were piercing as lasers. "Why is that, Miss Jansen?"