Populate A Change is Gonna Come | THR Populate of Iphigin

[Sira Esmeray]

Acier Moonbound

Sira let out a small, bright laugh, her smile widening enough to crinkle her nose. “I wouldn’t call it gross. The beans are cleaned before they're brewed of course, and the rest of the faeces can be used to fertilise a garden. They’re truly wonderful creatures. Oh, that reminds me. If you get hungry, let me know. I brought snacks from my garden.”

“Do I?” she asked in response to Acier's observation. She considered it for a moment before giving the little creature a wave goodbye and beginning to walk again. Her eyes moved over the vegetation as she searched for the plant she'd seen earlier.

Soon enough, her gaze caught on a familiar cluster of leaves near the wetter edge of the plateau.

“There it is!”

Sira hurried toward it, nearly tripping over a rock in her excitement. She promptly decided she was going to pretend that had never happened before crouching beside the plant and carefully brushing away some of the loose soil around its base. She worked her fingers deeper into the earth, loosening the dirt around the roots before gently pulling the plant free. She took care not to damage the root system, examining it closely once it was exposed.

“It's definitely Banda root.”

She placed the plant into a container from her satchel, then scooped a small amount of soil from around where the roots had been growing. She examined the loose earth between her fingers for a moment before placing it into a second container. Once both samples were secured, she sealed them and rose to her feet, brushing the remaining dirt from her hands.

“Do you have any passions, Acier?” she asked before turning again and starting toward the cave's location.

It only took a few more steps before Sira began to notice something in the air. A strange chill that seemed to settle against her skin despite the warmth of the forest around them.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

BACK TO THE BEGINNING
VENDAXA
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

Omega Squad Every Day Gear Locations

• Michael – Team Leader
  Gabriel - Tech/XO,
  Raguel - Infiltration/CQB,
  Raphael - Heavy Weapons,
  Jeremiel - Corpsman,
  Connel/Ariel - CQB/Explosives,
  Sariel - Sniper,
  Vigilant Reaper - Gunship
  
• 
  Rides
  
  • "Enterprise" Station Ship
  • Vigilant Reaper
  • Null Vector
  • Speederbike
  • Iron Psalm
  Gear/Armor
  
  • Gear(“Bodycam” Datapad, UAD Drone, link to Seraphim AI included)
  • Lightblaster
  • Shortsabers (“Night” and “Day”)
  • 5 Throwing Lightknives
  • 3 Force Blinding Flashbangs
  • RI-17 Rifle-w-MS-0412 Grenade Launcher
  SURGICAL - CRYBERNETIC IMPLANTS
  
  • Repli Implants that would be for the limbs
  • Bonemer enhancements to strengthen structure of the body
  • Muscle enhancements.
  • Hemo enhancements for blood flow
  • Hawkeye implants for eyes
  • Advanced Medical Implant
  • Scentzy
  • Injected Nanotech upgrades
• Shadow Sanctuary - Enterprise

Connel did not go to the Chancellor’s office.

There was no time for an appointment, a private audience, or whatever procession of aides and security clearances protocol demanded before someone was permitted to tell the most powerful woman in the High Republic that the Republic was being manipulated. Dominique Vexx was still in the Senate chamber.

So Connel went directly to her.

A security officer stepped into his path at the base of the Chancellor’s platform. “Master Vanagor, the Chancellor is presently—”

Move.

The officer held his ground. Connel did not reach for a weapon. He did not raise his voice. He simply removed his helmet and looked the man directly in the eye. A Senator just detonated an explosive inside this chamber. If your protocol accounts for that, show me the appropriate form. Otherwise, move. The officer hesitated.

It was long enough.

Connel stepped around him and ascended the platform, ignoring the attention his presence drew from the surrounding pods. His UAD drone followed above his shoulder, its lens still connected to the evidence feed inside his visor. He stopped within speaking distance of Dominique. Chancellor, you need to recess the Senate. Immediately.

Whether it was his tone, his refusal to wait, or the soot still clinging to his gear, the remaining security officers gave him space. Connel lowered his voice, but he did not soften it. The explosion was deliberate. The charge was installed beneath Senator Jul’s seat and shaped upward. It was designed to kill him while leaving enough of the repulsor assembly intact for everyone to reach the same conclusion.

He produced a small holoprojector and activated it between them. A reconstruction of the ruined pod appeared above his palm. One circuit glowed blue. This was his request-to-speak control.

The projection followed the circuit beneath the console. It bypassed the chamber transmitter and ended inside the charge. Eleven seconds before the explosion, Senator Jul pressed it. No request reached your queue because the switch was no longer connected to the Senate system.

Connel rotated the reconstruction. The interior access plate illuminated. The alteration was completed after he entered the chamber. From inside the pod. No technician approached him. No aide entered with him. He armed the device himself and used his request control to detonate it.

The hologram vanished. Senator Jul martyred himself.

Connel let those words stand between them. There was no triumph in his voice. No condemnation, either. The dead Senator had believed enough in his cause to pay for it with his life.

That did not make the lie acceptable. He wanted the Republic to watch him die and blame the Sith before the smoke cleared. Judging by what is already being said in this chamber, it worked.

His eyes briefly moved toward the assembled Senators. Fear was becoming outrage. Outrage was becoming certainty. Certainty, once spoken before the entire galaxy, would become history whether it was true or not. Connel looked back to Dominique.

With all due respect, Chancellor—to Mustafar with protocol. The court of public opinion is now in recess.

He placed the projector on her console, along with the complete forensic record.

End this session. Lock down every official statement concerning the explosion and tell your people to stop calling it a Sith attack. Right now, the truth is contained between you, me, SERAPHIM, and the security team preserving that pod.

His voice lowered further. Once this leaves the chamber, you will not be able to call it back.

Connel stood before her, helmet beneath one arm, waiting. You need to decide what the Republic does with the truth before Senator Jul’s lie makes that decision for you.

With that, he took his leave.

#Thread Exit

[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
TAGS • ARE • OPEN
Personal Effects - Omega Squad Loadouts​

 

[Eharl Sarn]

​

Senate Hall
Theed City | Naboo
Items: x
Objective One: The Senate
Vote: Go to war - Aye. Emergency Powers - Aye

​

As the chimes echoed through the Senate Chamber, Senator Sarn remained within his pod for several moments longer, watching the scene unfold between the chaos of what occurred with Senator Jul, the High Chancellor's call to action, and Senator Stuyveris's call for emergency powers.

Regardless, there was much to do -- far too much.

With a deep but short exhale, the tall Ithorian rose, offering the Chancellor a respectful inclination of his broad head before turning toward his aides.

"Send word to Enarc and convene the emergency committees immediately," he ordered, his low rumble resonating through his twin throats. Regardless of what was decided today, the Republic could not afford another Thyferra.

"Keep our representatives available to the Chancellor. I want updates from the quarantine committees and refugee authorities." the twin stalks of his eyes went drifting back to linger upon the damaged chamber. Despite the attack, the Senate was preparing to carry the war to the Sith.

He had to do his part with Enarc's factories to ensure the Republic was ready.

~ Exit Post ~​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique stood in front of Connel Vanagor as the man seemed to move in a furry up one of the ramps. His eyes were on her, which drew the Chancellor to a stop with a raised brow. "Let him by." Security had accompanied her down from the podium given the nebulous threat that faced the Senate. Hardly seemed the time to argue. She'd already tested their patience when she'd walked into the square earlier to confront an angry mob.

"Ho?" Recess the Senate immediately? What a bold demand.

Deliberate? That made sense. It wasn't what she had wanted to hear, but it was the only likely conclusion.

More important than how the explosive was triggered was Connel stating that it had been planted after the Senators had entered the chamber. Dominique's lips thinned at the news. Good to know those responsible for scouting for threats hadn't missed something, or were compromised; but the implications of this news wasn't any more reassuring.

"That... is quite the statement to make about a sitting Senator." Golden rings shifted to the side as she contemplated any one that could have possibly have heard such a thing said aloud.

Her attention swung back toward Connel when he spoke of motivation. The man didn't wait long before he dropped matters into her lap before he turned to depart. Dominique let out the softest sigh at how easily some people did that. It was her problem now, was it?

"Have someone posted at every exit. Tell them to inform every sentient leaving this chamber..." ah, politics, "given the sophistocation of the detonator and explosive device that took Senator Dault Grimmin from us, Republic Security believes the culprit to be a rogue state operating within the The Core. We believe the effort was another attempt to destabilize Cato Neimoidia; and that the High Republic continues to extend any and all enhanced protective measures available to whomever is elected to the position should they choose to receive them." They couldn't force another world to accept such protection, of course, but given they'd lost two Senators -- one at home, and one afar -- the implications would be that they should do so. More importantly, that the High Republic wasn't ignoring the obvious threat facing that world.

As for the Rogue State inside The Core that should play well with anyone 'mistakenly' associating events with the Sith -- someone was bound to do it -- and allowing others to 'correct' them. After all, the Republic had a Rogue State with the Vanguard that they were trying to contend with; why not the Sith Covenant as well? A sinister group, but one that might not be under the direct or indirect control of Empress Mercy. Enough deniability would exist people shouldn't jump to conclusions -- nor could the Covenant so readily disprove her story.

Meanwhile, Dominique would need to task Republic Intelligence to find out what was going on Cato Neimoidia -- and deal with it. Would the next Senator blowing up someone else's pod instead? A 'miracle' they'd merely ended their own life. Which left a bitter taste in her mouth. Why had he gone so far?

Aurelian Veruna | Eharl Sarn | Vaerelyn Thorne | Guinevere Cavello | Arcelon Varellan | Jaun Smyth | Sae | Anet Raine | Verity Stuyveris | Ephram Pryce​

 

[Fiona Tierney]

Without a sound, Fiona listened to his plans, gaze following the line of his hand as Xandyr Carrick pointed out multiple sectors of the valley they would be trying to accomplish. Scare off one of the acklay to take out the second. It was going to be tricky. The exoskeleton was prized in some cultures. Fiona had seen a few people even use them as armor - low tech but it did look intimidating.

"Sounds fine to me. My only shot is underneath. I dont want to risk not being able to get through the exoskeleton."

She would only want to try that from a safe distance. Maybe a sniper shot in the future. If they survived this then perhaps it would be something to try again in the future.

Checking her hunting rifle, she gave a short nod to Carrick. They separated from here. He off into the reeds and she further down to wait for the acklay to be pushed in her direction. There wasn't much of a window for error. Small comfort for Carrick ; if she missed the creature would eat her first, giving the companion some time to run away or steel himself.

 

[Chiassa]

VENDAXA
Supply Run
Jackson Lesan | Sophelia Ardemark | Rathir​

"So you really do read everything," asked Jackson.

"Hello... Don't you?" Chee answered with a bit of a 'duh' etched into her young voice, then she flashed a soft smile up at the dark haired padawan.

"You see the archives are my favorite place to be at the temple, and I just happen to have a photogenic memory so I can read a lot and retain the knowledge. I guess that will be my forte as a Jedi, well at least for now."

The young archivist supposed as she progressed in her training, a Jedi counselor path would be hers to take though the Force worked in mysterious ways so who knows... Maybe the diminutive Tholothian would grow up to become a great battle master. hehe That thought made the youngling giggle to herself.

Chiassa waited until they had their goods thus far, then walked alongside the hover cart as the market had gotten a lot more crowded suddenly. She had a feeling something was not what it seemed ahead, but couldn't quite register what her senses were saying.

"Um guys... "

 

[Kuhbee]

​

Location: Vendexa
Objective: Bratawans
Equipment: Translation Droid | Lightsaber | Jedi Robes |
Tags: Sophelia Ardemark Jackson Lesan Chiassa Rathir

​

The market on Vendaxa was louder than usual, but one particular stall had drawn a desperate crowd. Kuhbee stood among five others packed tightly around the small wooden stand, all of them focused on the precious supply spread across the counter. Bacta. Some of the last left on the planet.

"How much do you have left?"

"I'll pay double!"

"When are you getting more?"

The questions came so quickly that the seller barely had time to answer. Everyone leaned against the stall, waving credits and shouting over one another until the old wooden frame groaned beneath their combined weight.

"One pouch per customer!" the seller finally shouted, raising both hands. "That's it! One each!"

He began passing the small bacta pouches across the counter. Kuhbee reached forward and picked one up.

"Hey!" someone beside him snapped. "You can't go first!" He elbowed Kuhbee and snatched the bacta pouch out of his paws.

Kuhbee slowly turned his head toward the man and let out a deep, rumbling growl. "RRRAARRWHHGWWRR!!!"

 

[Rue]

---

---

• To influence the internal and external politics of the High Republic towards war with the Sith Order.
• To break the Treaty of Twin Crowns between the High Republic and Mandalorian Empire.

-- Two goals of the peculiar and engimatic investment hedge-fund colloquially known as Vūm.

---

Tags: Guinevere Cavello | Lyraen Solari | Aurelian Veruna

---

Beware of the red star and it's certain spiral pattern whenever it is seen.

Amid the aristocracy and nobility it's figures parted for just a moment. Rue capitalized upon it. Headed towards King Veruna, Rue glanced briefly towards the two women caught in his shadow. Although Rue did not know anything about Princess Cavello or Solari she knew a fair few things about the monarch standing in-between them. Vūm had long-identified King Veruna as their choice candidate for engagement in the High Republic. But he was an individual not easily courted. Rue knew this because her master (a sinister and enigmatic woman who immigrated to Enarc with Veruna's help) had only managed to keep his interest and not his razor-sharp focus.

They both knew what Veruna was capable of when he set his mind to something. At the turn-of-the-ninth century House Veruna were not even a household name in the Nabooian aristocracy. The Veruna's were a faded name consigned to the annuals of history and time. A long forgotten House put to the wayside by the newer and more exciting castes that would lead to the formation of a Nabooian Royal Republic which spanned across the Trailing Sectors. But Aurelian Veruna was no longer tethered to being small and weak. He was King. A former High Chancellor in the Republic his people had formed across the Mid-systems. Every politician, bureaucrat or figure of influence courted his ear when it came to the business of the day.

It was not a stretch of the imagination to say he was the most powerful man across the Mid Rim Territories.

Her may have his interest. But Rue desired his focus.

Promises were made. They should be kept.

"King Veruna," Rue greeted Aurelian when she was close enough. Her voice was thick with a Liann accent. She smelled and looked distinctly Imperial to the senses. "I am from Vūm Investments. I don't know if you remember me but we met once in the past during a thinktank held by Katsumi Royal." As she tried to remind Aurelian about who she was, Rue turned her gaze back to the two Princesses and asked: "Could you introduce me to your two friends?"

As the question lingered in the air Rue lifted her wrist up in front of Aurelian to kiss. It was a greeting all noblemen were taught when greeting beautiful and powerful women. Rue wouldn't spare the Aurelian the moment to pass up on his customs merely because she was not from Naboo.

---

 

[Rathir]

THE HIGH REPUBLIC

RATHIR
JEDI INITIATE • LIVING FORCE

LOCATION TRADING POINT, VENDAXA ◆ OBJECTIVE SHOPPING

────────────────────────────────────────────​

Rathir grinned when Jackson repeated the rule as they moved with the cart.

"So that's still a maybe." Rathir glanced to Chiassa.

His attention stayed with the other Padawan while she talked about the archives, and between the acklay skull and the Nysillin, her memory was already making a pretty convincing case for spending more time in that area. Rathir wasn't sure he had the patience for that himself, but he could see the appeal.

"Photogenic memory? Huh," Rathir said as he scratched his head, thinking. "So... you could read every book in the archives and remember it? All the time?"

His blue eyes lit up.

"Study buddies?"

That would help with Rathir's own learning immensely.

However, Chiassa's uncertain Um guys... pulled his attention ahead. The market had grown crowded enough that most of the voices around them blended together, though Rathir's hearing caught one word clearly from the group pressed around a nearby stall.

"Jackson, they've got bacta."

Rathir quickened his pace alongside the cart, only for the discovery to look less promising the closer they got. Credits were already being waved around while the vendor tried to keep everyone to one pouch each.

Rathir was still taking in who was where when another Padawan ahead reached for one of the pouches and someone beside him snapped that he couldn't go first. Whether that was true or not, the elbow that followed was harder to ignore. The man drove it into the Wookiee and tore the pouch from his paws, earning a deep growl that rolled through the crowd.

"Hey!" Rathir shouted and left the cart almost immediately. "Back off!"

Rathir reached the group and stepped up to the civilian who had hit the furred Padawan, putting himself between them. The Firrerreo's gold cheeks were touched with silver, a rush of blood as adrenaline started, and he stared down the customer with blue eyes fixed.

"If he cut in, tell him," Rathir said, voice low and his earlier humor gone. "Don't hit him."

The or else didn't need to be stated.

────────────────────────────────────────────​

TAGS
Jackson Lesan • Sophelia Ardemark • Chiassa • Kuhbee ​

FIRRERREO • FORM V • JEDI INITIATE​

 

[Guinevere Cavello]

​

Guinevere offered the Prince a gracious inclination of her head as he excused himself, watching him disappear into the crowd before turning her attention back toward the King. Whatever conversation might have followed was interrupted almost immediately by a far more welcome arrival.

The sight of Lyraen drew a genuine smile from her.

"Princess Lyraen. I'm glad you came."

There was relief in the greeting that Guinevere did not bother trying to conceal. Familiar company was becoming something of a rarity tonight, and Lyraen's presence offered a small reprieve from the endless parade of titles, introductions, and carefully measured conversation.

Still, etiquette demanded attention elsewhere. Guinevere acknowledged King Veruna properly before her gaze shifted toward the approaching stranger in black. She knew nothing of Vūm Investments, nor of the woman speaking on its behalf, but when an introduction was requested Guinevere offered a courteous smile and a slight bow of her head.

"Guinevere Cavello, of Avenar. A pleasure."

Then the woman raised her wrist toward the King. Guinevere stared. Only for a moment. Years of training rescued her expression before surprise could become anything openly impolite, but she could not stop the slight widening of her eyes. Her gaze dropped toward the offered wrist and then flicked almost involuntarily toward Aurelian.

She had seen unfamiliar customs before. She understood, intellectually at least, that other worlds possessed very different expectations regarding men and women.

But this? A woman simply offering herself for a man to kiss? In Avalon, such a gesture would have been unthinkable. Even the smallest physical familiarity between an unmarried woman and a man could invite scrutiny, and Guinevere had spent most of her life surrounded by attendants whose very purpose seemed to be ensuring no such impropriety ever occurred. Taza would probably have suffered an apoplexy if Guinevere casually presented her hand, or Force forbid, her wrist, to a man.

Her eyes instinctively searched the room for her maiden. Perhaps it was better not to see Taza's reaction. Guinevere carefully returned her attention to Rue, smoothing her surprise into the serene expression expected of a princess. She said nothing about the gesture. It was clearly some custom she did not understand, and embarrassing the woman over it would have been inexcusably rude.

Still, she found herself watching the King from the corner of her eye, intensely curious about what he intended to do.

Wearing: x | Tags: Lyraen Solari Rue Aurelian Veruna

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

B R A T A W A N S

Kuhbee Chiassa Jackson Lesan Rathir

Jackson turned toward the sound, but Soph was already reaching for the credits. “I’ll see what they found. Don’t let her talk you into an apprenticeship before I get back.”

"No promises," a tart reply, a small smile briefly tugged at one corner of her lips. She finished making the purchases and thanks the Neti. She thought she could hear the quips between Jackson and Rathir from here. Blues rolled, that smile never leaving her face.

“Soph!” Jackson called across the market. “When you’re done over there, we need your eyes on something.”

The healer padawan wandered back over to the others. Eyes snagging on the red of the flower. "Oh, that's a great find. I bet we could grow these from the seeds. Some might even say this is better than bacta. Nice one, Chi." It was a nickname whether the younger padawan wanted it or not. That's now nicknames worked. Head swiveled as the others did toward the growing ruckus toward a table. Eyes settled on a familiar wookie.

"Uh-oh," lips flattened as she caught the tail end of the exchange. She wasn't really worried about Kuhbee being hurt. She was worried about the safety of the others. And then Rathir did what she'd done on Naboo. Placed himself between a wookie and its agression.

Stars, she thought she'd been the only dumb one.

Soph slipped next to the other youngest in their group. Chiassa . A light touch on her shoulder. "Maybe we should hang back with the cart? Let the boy-guys handle this."

Yeah, that was stupid. All that testosterone.

Still. Soph's protective instincts went to Chiassa's well-being first. The force pooled ready at her fingertips. Ready to enact a force bubble. She just didn't know if she'd put one around Kuhbee and Rathiir or the rest of the growing mob. Or maybe do something else.

"Jackson, don't do something stupid." The quip left her tongue almost too easily. Neck craned and she frowned. Eyes catching a poster board of missing persons. A shuffle left and she took a closer look.

 

[Xandyr Carrick]

Fiona Tierney

"Underneath is the shot then," he agreed.

He held her gaze for a moment longer than the tactical planning required. Then he gave her a single, short nod. They were in genuine danger and it was somewhat exhilarating.

Moving through the reeds was slower than walking. Each step was placed with deliberate care, boots finding the gaps between root clusters, hands parting the stems just enough to slip through without shaking the canopy above. The reeds whispered against his coat. He kept his breathing shallow and his weight forward on the balls of his feet, the old habits surfacing without thought. This was how he had moved through several run down buildings, blaster in hand.

He could not help but think that a companion moved through a crowded ballroom the same way. Unseen until he wished to be seen.

He found his position at the edge of the reed bed where the cover thinned to nothing. Beyond it, open ground stretched to the waterline, and the larger acklay stood fifteen metres further still, head down, drinking.

From here he could see the curve of its thorax, the powerful forelimbs folded beneath it, the ridged crest along its skull. A beautiful thing, in the way that a weapon was beautiful. Designed with a single purpose and nothing wasted.

He looked south. He could not see Fiona. The reeds between them were too thick. She was out there somewhere with a rifle, a sense of humour, and no good reason reason to cover him if things went wrong. He decided to trust her anyway; he certainly wasn't out running an acklay on foot.

He raised his rifle. He could hear his own pulse. It was, he noted with some irritation, faster than he would have liked.

He raised the blaster and put a round into the mud two metres behind the creature.

The crack of the shot split the morning open. The acklay reared, shrieking, and lunged south along the waterline exactly as he had predicted. It was moving fast, legs driving through the shallows, carapace gleaming.

The second acklay was slowly lifting its head from the water, confused, its partner's panic pulling its attention in two directions.

 

[Jackson Lesan]

Wearing: xxx
Tag: Sophelia Ardemark | Chiassa | Rathir | Kuhbee

Jackson looked from Chiassa to the jar and then back to her when she explained her memory, one brow lifting at the faint duh in her voice. “Photographic memory and you spend your free time in the archives. Okay, that explains a lot.”

Rathir immediately trying to recruit her as a study partner earned a laugh, but Sophelia’s assessment of the Nysillin drew Jackson back to the reason they were standing there. Better than bacta was a bold claim, but the possibility of growing more from seed made the find considerably more valuable than something they could only use once. He updated the supply list and gave Chiassa a nod that carried more approval than teasing.

“Definitely a good catch. We’re taking enough to use and enough to see if we can grow it.”

He had barely finished when Chiassa’s tone changed. Whatever she had sensed in the crowd ahead pulled Jackson’s attention away from the datapad, though Rathir caught the important part first.

They had bacta.

Jackson grabbed the hover cart and started guiding it through the thickening market traffic with the others. His optimism lasted until the stall came into view. Too many people were pressed against a counter that was far too small, credits were being shoved forward from every direction, and the vendor was trying to enforce a one-pouch limit while answering questions about stock he clearly did not have.

One pouch was not much, but after the morning they had been having, Jackson would take it.

Then someone drove an elbow into Kuhbee and ripped the pouch from his paws. The growl that followed changed the mood around the stall immediately. Jackson recognized the Wookiee just as Rathir stepped between him and the civilian responsible. By the time Rathir told the man to back off, Jackson was already moving toward them.

Behind him, Sophelia called out, “Jackson, don’t do something stupid.”

That stopped him just long enough to glance over his shoulder.

For half a second, Vendaxa disappeared beneath jungle rain and smoke. He could almost feel battered ribs protesting again, hear the crash behind them, and remember Soph telling him not to be the hero while he had been determined to keep moving anyway.

A crooked smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “That worked so well last time.”

Then he kept going.

Jackson did not reach for his lightsaber or shove his way into the confrontation. He stepped beside Rathir instead, giving the other Padawan room to hold the position he had already taken while Jackson focused on the man clutching Kuhbee’s bacta.

“He had it first,” Jackson said. His voice carried without adding another shout to the chaos around the stall. “If you thought he cut the line, you tell the vendor. You don’t hit him and take it.”

He held out a hand for the pouch. “Give it back.”

The shortage made the anger around them understandable, which somehow made the entire situation worse. Everyone pressed around that stall probably had a reason for being there. Someone needed medicine for an injury, a sick family member, or a job that suddenly could not afford to keep bacta stocked. Thyferra had turned something ordinary into something worth fighting over, and Jackson had no intention of letting the Jedi become another group throwing their weight around because they needed it too.

He glanced toward the vendor. “Whatever the limit is, we follow it. We’re not asking you to put us ahead of anyone.”

Then his attention returned to the man in front of him.

“But his pouch is still his.”

Jackson stayed beside Rathir rather than stepping in front of him. Rathir had handled himself fine, and Jackson was not about to treat him like he needed rescuing. What mattered was keeping the confrontation from becoming something the entire crowd decided to join.

The hover cart had stopped only a short distance behind them with Soph and Chiassa beside it. Jackson checked on them and found Sophelia looking away from the bacta stall toward a board covered in faces. Missing persons, from the look of it. Something about the way she had stopped caught his attention, but Kuhbee’s low growl reminded him that they had a more immediate problem.

Jackson lowered his voice when he looked back at the man holding the pouch. “Everybody here needs the same thing. Let’s not turn one pouch of bacta into three people needing medical attention.”

His eyes shifted briefly toward Kuhbee before returning to the civilian.

“Especially when one of us is a Wookiee.”

 

[Lyraen Solari]

​

Sub-objective: So This Is What Princesses Do?
Location: Theed Cultural Center, Naboo
Outfit: Sea-Green Gown
Tags: OPEN | Guinevere Cavello | Rue | Aurelian Veruna

Whatever uncertainty Lyraen had felt about coming eased considerably at Gwen's greeting. "So am I," she answered quietly, the words meant more for Gwen than the others gathered around them. That was perhaps the simplest decision she'd made all evening.

The others could debate whether attendance was expected of her, whether House Kortu would appreciate that someone attached to their name had bothered to make an appearance, or whether Markus Kortu had possessed the better idea by avoiding the entire affair. Lyraen was simply glad she'd found a friend.

She remained close to Gwen as another woman approached them. Black amongst a sea of formal colors made the newcomer difficult to miss. Lyraen listened as she introduced herself as being from Vūm Investments, apparently already acquainted with King Veruna. That was another name Lyraen quietly filed away. She had quickly discovered that gatherings such as this involved remembering an exhausting number of names, companies, worlds, and relationships.

Then the woman asked Aurelian to introduce his two friends. Gwen beat him to it. Lyraen followed her example with a courteous inclination of her head. "My name is Lyraen Solari. It's a pleasure." There was no need for anything more. No explanation of Kirima. No invocation of her marriage or the considerably more recognizable Alderaanian nobility she'd married into. Solari was enough. At least Lyraen hoped it was.

Then Rue raised her wrist. Lyraen's attention naturally followed the movement. Her brow furrowed slightly. That was... new. She had been exposed to enough differences in custom since leaving Kirima that the gesture itself wasn't especially shocking. Perhaps that was simply how things were done wherever Rue came from. Lyraen's attention might have remained entirely upon the exchange between Rue and Aurelian had she not caught the smallest movement beside her.

She glanced toward Gwen. The widened eyes. The brief look toward the offered wrist. Then toward Aurelian. And finally the quick search of the room for—Taza. Lyraen pressed her lips together. Oh. Her gaze returned to Rue's wrist. Then Aurelian. Then, very deliberately, back to Gwen.

One eyebrow crept upward. She said absolutely nothing. She didn't have to. The corner of Lyraen's mouth threatened to betray her, forcing her to turn her attention toward Aurelian before Gwen caught the smile that was trying very hard to form.

Or perhaps Gwen already had. Either way, Lyraen was definitely asking her about that later. For now, she stayed beside Gwen. Rue had plainly approached the King with purpose, and Lyraen had no intention of inserting herself into whatever business existed between Vūm Investments and Aurelian. Instead, she settled into the far more comfortable role of observer. That, after all, was part of why she'd come.

There were people here who understood the connections between governments, corporations, noble houses, and entire worlds as naturally as Lyraen understood the relationships of the court she'd grown up around. Now that her own life extended considerably farther than Kirima, perhaps she ought to begin understanding some of them too.

So Lyraen listened. Though every so often, despite her best efforts, her eyes drifted toward Gwen. And then toward Rue's wrist. The smile kept threatening to return.

 

[Vaerelyn Thorne]

​

Location: Senate Building, Theeds, Naboo
Objective: THE HIGH REPUBLIC AT WAR
Sub-objective: Define the War
Outfit: Casual Dress Suit
Tag: Dominique Vexx | Connel Vanagor | Any other Senator still present.

Vaerelyn remained seated after the Chancellor formally brought the emergency session to its close. For a few moments, she simply stared at the voting display. AYE — Declaration of War. Her vote was there. Seeing it written somehow made it feel heavier than speaking it had. She had committed Gorath's Haven to a war.

Not its farmers to become soldiers. Not every young man and woman to leave their homes. Dominique had answered that fear clearly enough for Vaerelyn to understand what she had been asked to support. The Republic would defend itself against those who attacked it, and Gorath's Haven would stand with the Republic. She could explain that to the Agrarian Council. She wasn't certain they would all agree with her. But she could explain it.

The other vote remained more complicated. ABSTAIN — Emergency Powers. Vaerelyn glanced toward Verity's pod. She still respected the woman. Perhaps Verity Stuyveris was right. Perhaps the Chancellor truly needed those powers to fight the war they had just declared. But Vaerelyn had asked what declaring war meant before agreeing to it. She could hardly pretend that granting emergency authority required less understanding. So the abstention remained.

Around her, the chamber was beginning to empty. Then Vaerelyn noticed that the Jedi examining Senator Jul's ruined pod had approached the Chancellor. She hadn't intended to listen. At first. Then she heard enough that leaving became impossible. The explosive. The altered controls. The access panel. Senator Jul had been alone.

Vaerelyn slowly sank back into her seat. He had done it himself. Her gaze drifted toward the wreckage. She remembered the explosion. The smoke. The confusion. She remembered looking at that ruined pod and wondering whether Senator Jul had died because he had questioned what they were doing. She remembered being afraid. And she remembered refusing to decide that fear was proof.

We do not know what happened. Apparently now they did. Vaerelyn's expression tightened. She didn't feel vindicated. Mostly she felt sick. He had wanted them to believe it. Whatever Senator Jul had intended beyond his own death, he had deliberately left them with an explosion and questions. He had known frightened people would provide their own answers. Perhaps he had even counted upon it.

Vaerelyn looked down at her hands. She had spent so much of her time in the Republic embarrassed by the things she didn't know. There always seemed to be another government, another war, another historical grievance that everyone else understood without explanation.

Today she had admitted that ignorance openly. Twice. She wasn't quite so embarrassed by it anymore. Not knowing was uncomfortable. Deciding that you knew when you didn't seemed considerably worse. Vaerelyn rose as the Chancellor's instructions began circulating through those remaining in the chamber.

Republic Security suspected the involvement of a rogue state in the Core. She stopped. Her brow furrowed. That wasn't—Vaerelyn looked toward where the Jedi had spoken with Dominique. Then back toward the aide accompanying her. "But... that isn't what he said happened." Her voice was quiet.

The aide hesitated. That hesitation answered something before any words could. Vaerelyn looked back toward the Chancellor. There were undoubtedly things she didn't understand. Perhaps Dominique had reasons. Perhaps there were investigations that could not be discussed openly. Perhaps this was another part of galactic politics that would eventually make sense once someone explained it to her. Perhaps.

She didn't ask. Not here. Not now. Instead, Vaerelyn gathered her things and descended from the Gorathi delegation's platform. Her path toward the exit carried her near the remains of Senator Jul's pod. She slowed. For just a moment, Vaerelyn stood looking at it.

A man had died there because he wanted everyone else to believe something that wasn't true. She had almost believed it. So had people far more experienced than she was. Vaerelyn finally turned away. She had an Agrarian Council to contact. A war to explain. Questions about emergency powers that still needed answers.

And now she had another question. Why had the truth changed between the wreckage of Senator Jul's pod and the doors of the Senate? Vaerelyn left the chamber without asking it aloud. She suspected she would eventually have to.

[[THREAD EXIT]]​