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The advantage of Hera's typical technique is that it's controlled, and understated. She draws as little attention as possible to the act while she's carrying it out, giving her time to plant evidence and leave the area before most have even realized what has happened. But, once in a while, a particular job calls for a little more showmanship than this. Her work is never supposed to leave any uncertainty as to what it means, and who is behind it. But sometimes, there can also be value in sheer brazenness.

Which means that Hera's most recent target, Captain Orfanidis, was stabbed in the chest in his own quarters aboard the ISS Laran. At least the follow-up requires slightly less work – Hera doesn't even bother hiding her weapon. She hopes they find it. She hopes they find her DNA on it. She hopes they know exactly who did this, and that they walk in fear of when she'll do it again.

But if she plans to do it again, it also means she has to get away. Which is why she waits just long enough to ensure Orfanidis is dead before she drops her blade, and checks her time, before she steps back out into the hall. The moment she does is just as the ship's assigned cleaning "staff" is passing through. They're all wearing shock collars, so that they don't need a monitor, and are dutifully keeping their eyes down. Already disguised accordingly, it's easy enough for Hera to step in among them, and walk with them as they pass through the staff quarters.

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"Oof."

It's pathetic that he can't hold back that grunt, but it fits with how he topples over, landing hard on his back and losing even more of his breath.

He couldn't even speak if he wanted to.

Hera somehow manages to twist as they fall, landing with one foot on the ground. She stays down long enough to snatch his phaser from his holster, then jumps up, and kicks him hard in the head.

For a few seconds, then, she holds the phaser over him. But it's just long enough to catch her breath, and then Hera lifts the phaser, and aims instead for the turbolift doors. They erupt into a mist of metallic dust.

He can't see, after that kick to the head, and he can't think either, his ears ringing. Once his vision clears, though, he begins struggling to his feet.

"Don't you dare -- "

She kicks him down again, this time a straight, sharp stomp against his chest. Then she moves to the now open shaft, pulling a small, circular metal object from her belt as she does. Before she reaches it, she takes the time to shuffle his communicator with her foot, and kick it out, over the edge of the floor and down into the shaft.

"Do me a favor." There's no humor in her voice, no inflection at all. She glances up and down the shaft, finding the lift is above them. That'll make things easier.

"When they torture you for this, tell them the truth." She slams the small metal object against the wall, and it stays in place, a thin white rope now visible running from it. "Tell them who killed your captain."

And then she steps into the shaft, and falls out of sight.

Edited 2018-07-15 18:03 (UTC)

No. No. Absolutely not.

If the captain is dead --

If --

He is not being tortured for that. He is going to catch this woman, subdue her, and drag her before the XO so that they can question her instead. Or her the most. Regardless, he is not dying for this. Not today. Not ever.

And that's why he stumbles over to the rope, grabs it, and drops down into the shaft after her.

Edited 2018-07-15 18:05 (UTC)

By the time he's taken the rope, Hera has unlatched herself, having found that the lift doors aren't locked from the inside. She carefully rolls open the doors leading into the cargo bay, and slips out, darting in amongst the stacks of crates.

There's one pacing human guard on the far side of the bay and she holds the lieutenant's phaser tight in her hand. But for now, she'll try to reach the blind spot without more attention.

Kanan's boots smack hard into the bottom of the lift shaft, and he takes off at a run after the woman. He doesn't need to be silent, after all.

Though he does stumble to a stop under the eyes of the human guard. Great. Carrying himself in a manner unbecoming of an officer will surely be added to his tally tonight.

"We have an intruder on board," Kanan spits out. "I saw her come this way."

The guard only scoffs. "Right, Betazoid. Go back to your duty rounds, I've got this area handled."

It's a matter of seconds before Hera darts out from behind one of the stacks of crates, and fires her phaser, killing the guard. Once the guard topples over, she turns the weapon to the lieutenant, but doesn't pull the trigger. For the first time, she looks directly into his eyes.

Quietly, "You're not Terran."

Edited 2018-07-15 18:28 (UTC)

Kanan sneers, but --

"Half-Betazoid. What, you couldn't tell already?"

Everyone else seems able to.

Hera doesn't lower the phaser. But her thumb slides down along the side of the weapon, dialing down its settings.

"I can't half-kill you."

"I'd like to see you try," Kanan returns. It's nonsensical in the extreme, but at the same time her attempt would at least be a different sort of torment than the booth.

She doesn't have time for this. Hera pulls the trigger, and watches as he falls, stunned. Even still, she's careful as she approaches him, even kicking him again to make sure he's unconscious.

Then she pulls him back over her shoulder, and drags him back among the crates with her. There's no more time to waste here, and not too far among those stacks is the blind spot. She'd memorized the pattern, the markings, the lighting when she'd first beamed aboard, not to mention the path leading back to it, and though the lieutenant's weight slows her down somewhat, she pushes through.

When they reach the blind spot, she spare just a few seconds to check and ensure she's in the right place, and then holds the lieutenant's body firmly against hers, ensuring the transporter will pick up both of their patterns as she signals to be beamed out again.

There's a flash of spiraling light, and they both disappear from the Laran.

Thrawn is waiting for them in his ready room, not seated behind his desk as is usual, but standing next to one particular painting, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

He was told of Hera's unexpected guest, of course, and he has . . . questions.

He has also sent an ensign to help carry the unconscious visitor, so that Hera will be free to more easily handle him when he wakes.

Hera, meanwhile, walks behind the Klingon carrying the still-unconscious lieutenant, her hands folded behind her back, and an unfamiliar tingling feeling growing in her stomach. It takes her some time to recognize it as dread. She had never strayed from her orders before. Well, not since she was a child, in any case. She doesn't fear any kind of penalty, just as she hadn't feared it when she was a child.

But now there's the matter of respect. And that does make her nervous.

Yet without hesitation, she steps in front of the ensign when they reach the ready room, and knocks on the door.

"Come in."

Thrawn's voice is no more cool than usual, and he has moved very slightly from his position by the painting, standing behind the least comfortable chair in his office. He gestures for the Klingon ensign to drop the Terran officer in said chair, and looks down at the man's slack face, studying it intently.

After a moment he leans forward and pulls up one eyelid, peering at the almost-black iris hidden beneath it.

"Ah," he says. And then --

"Leave us."

The ensign nods sharply, turns, and exits the room post-haste. Then Thrawn waits, to see how Hera will choose to begin her report.

Hera also waits, at first, to see whether Thrawn will ask her anything, order her to speak, or even admonish her. But when he doesn't -

"Captain Orfanidis is dead. I worked within the mission parameters. During my escape I was also forced to kill a Terran guard in the Laran's cargo bay, but I believe our method of transport is still concealed."

Thrawn raises his eyebrows, but his voice is still mild when he speaks.

"If we can manage to use it twice more, I'll be pleased with our success. However, you appear to have not killed this current guest of ours, who is a Betazoid, if I am not mistaken? At least in part. Were he a full one, doubtless you would have had more trouble in subduing him. Their telepathic gifts are . . . strong."

"Half-Betazoid."

She doesn't glance at the unconscious lieutenant.

"He confronted me outside the officers' quarters. His telepathic senses must have tipped him off. I thought he was Terran, and I left him alive as a witness. I assumed when he realized his position, he would make a futile attempt to flee the ship. When he pursued me to the cargo bay, I -"

Well, then she'd had a choice. But leaving him as a witness had no longer been an option.

She still doesn't glance away. But Hera takes a deep breath, and then, simply, "He's not Terran."

Thrawn merely inclines his head, studying the slumped body of the half-Betazoid, for a long moment.

That moment stretches to two, then three, then --

"Do you think we could turn him? His skills would be very useful for our endeavors. Providing he has control of them, of course. Not all do."

"I don't know."

Now, she also glances to the lieutenant.

"He appeared devoted to the Empire. Arrogant and cruel, even before he knew what I was. But he didn't show the cowardice typical of the Terrans."

She's not sure whether that would help or hurt.

"Hmm."

Thrawn steeples his fingers in front of his face, considering the unexpected potential gift.

"The worst that will happen if we try is that we fail, and he will still be simple enough to dispose of. But every asset acquired is a risk, and if we were not prepared to take such things on, we would have no business being here. So."

She turns her eyes back to Thrawn.

"Yes, sir."

The corner of Thrawn's mouth twitches, and he moves toward his desk, lifting a small medscanner from it.

"Should you like to do the honor of waking him? Or shall I?"

Edited 2018-07-17 17:17 (UTC)

Hera doesn't speak.

But she unfolds her hands from behind her back, and reaches out, to accept the object from him.

Thrawn passes it over, moving to stand just in front of his desk, scarlet eyes fixed on the half-Betazoid as he waits for Hera to do her work.