Zesiro
High Lady of Kesh
By now, Zesiro had settled comfortably enough into her position that the office no longer felt borrowed.
It remained unmistakably part of the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant. Black, white, and red carried through the room in restrained accents, with the Imperial emblem occupying its familiar place behind her desk. Secure terminals and communications equipment had been incorporated into the otherwise clean architecture, while broad windows overlooked Mahporeem beyond. A few personal touches softened the severity of the government furnishings, including the small reminder of Hannah that Zes kept where she could see it. Otherwise, the room was exactly what she needed it to be: professional without feeling sterile.
Zes herself had made a similar compromise with Imperial expectations. Dark fitted pants were paired with a red blouse and a tailored black jacket, enough of the Remnant's colors to acknowledge the position without resembling a uniform. She had never seen any particular reason authority required a woman to stop looking like herself, and taking over Internal Affairs hadn't changed her mind.
The name displayed on her terminal was Malek Synthos.
His surname was considerably easier to investigate than the man carrying it. House Synthos had accumulated wealth and influence through pharmaceuticals, an industry with the useful habit of remaining important regardless of which governments were fighting one another. Wars created casualties. Disease ignored borders. Worlds suffering either rarely cared very much about politics when medicine was needed.
Malek himself presented a much shorter story.
He was thirty-two, human, and a member of House Synthos. His professional background was in pharmacology, supported by enough education and experience that Zes had no reason to question his qualifications. Beyond that, there wasn't an extraordinary amount sitting in front of her. Certainly nothing that justified deciding what sort of man he was before she'd ever met him.
That suited Zesiro just fine.
She had spent enough of her life being reduced to whatever somebody could fit into a report to know how misleading one could be. There were undoubtedly files somewhere in the galaxy that described her as an assassin, a Sith, a High Lady, a security officer, or any number of other things she'd been over the years. Every description would be accurate, and none of them would tell someone very much about the woman sitting behind this desk now.
Still, a member of a wealthy and influential pharmaceutical family appearing on Mahporeem was worth knowing. That didn't make Malek a threat, nor did Zes consider him one simply because his surname carried weight. Internal Affairs wasn't merely about finding enemies hiding beneath the furniture. Sometimes knowing who had entered their sphere, what brought them there, and what they intended to do was enough.
Zes could have assigned someone to gather considerably more information before ever speaking to him. She preferred another approach. Records told her what other people knew about someone. A conversation gave her an opportunity to decide for herself.
So she'd asked Malek Synthos to come to her office.
Zes leaned back slightly and took a sip from the drink resting beside her terminal as she waited. Calling people into her office was becoming a surprisingly ordinary part of the job, though there were still moments when she found the reversal amusing. For years, she'd stood beside Darlyn while people approached the President, quietly watching them and deciding whether anything about their behavior warranted her attention. Now, understanding the person across the room wasn't secondary to protecting somebody else. It was part of why she was here.
A notification appeared on her terminal to announce the arrival of the man she'd been expecting.
Zes set her drink aside, leaving the basic information she'd gathered visible on the display. There was no reason to manufacture the atmosphere of an interrogation when she had nothing to accuse him of. She simply wanted to meet the man behind the Synthos name and find out what had brought him into Mahporeem's orbit.
When the door opened, Zesiro looked up and offered Malek a small smile before gesturing toward the chair opposite her.
"Mr. Synthos. Come in and have a seat."
Malek Sythos
It remained unmistakably part of the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant. Black, white, and red carried through the room in restrained accents, with the Imperial emblem occupying its familiar place behind her desk. Secure terminals and communications equipment had been incorporated into the otherwise clean architecture, while broad windows overlooked Mahporeem beyond. A few personal touches softened the severity of the government furnishings, including the small reminder of Hannah that Zes kept where she could see it. Otherwise, the room was exactly what she needed it to be: professional without feeling sterile.
Zes herself had made a similar compromise with Imperial expectations. Dark fitted pants were paired with a red blouse and a tailored black jacket, enough of the Remnant's colors to acknowledge the position without resembling a uniform. She had never seen any particular reason authority required a woman to stop looking like herself, and taking over Internal Affairs hadn't changed her mind.
The name displayed on her terminal was Malek Synthos.
His surname was considerably easier to investigate than the man carrying it. House Synthos had accumulated wealth and influence through pharmaceuticals, an industry with the useful habit of remaining important regardless of which governments were fighting one another. Wars created casualties. Disease ignored borders. Worlds suffering either rarely cared very much about politics when medicine was needed.
Malek himself presented a much shorter story.
He was thirty-two, human, and a member of House Synthos. His professional background was in pharmacology, supported by enough education and experience that Zes had no reason to question his qualifications. Beyond that, there wasn't an extraordinary amount sitting in front of her. Certainly nothing that justified deciding what sort of man he was before she'd ever met him.
That suited Zesiro just fine.
She had spent enough of her life being reduced to whatever somebody could fit into a report to know how misleading one could be. There were undoubtedly files somewhere in the galaxy that described her as an assassin, a Sith, a High Lady, a security officer, or any number of other things she'd been over the years. Every description would be accurate, and none of them would tell someone very much about the woman sitting behind this desk now.
Still, a member of a wealthy and influential pharmaceutical family appearing on Mahporeem was worth knowing. That didn't make Malek a threat, nor did Zes consider him one simply because his surname carried weight. Internal Affairs wasn't merely about finding enemies hiding beneath the furniture. Sometimes knowing who had entered their sphere, what brought them there, and what they intended to do was enough.
Zes could have assigned someone to gather considerably more information before ever speaking to him. She preferred another approach. Records told her what other people knew about someone. A conversation gave her an opportunity to decide for herself.
So she'd asked Malek Synthos to come to her office.
Zes leaned back slightly and took a sip from the drink resting beside her terminal as she waited. Calling people into her office was becoming a surprisingly ordinary part of the job, though there were still moments when she found the reversal amusing. For years, she'd stood beside Darlyn while people approached the President, quietly watching them and deciding whether anything about their behavior warranted her attention. Now, understanding the person across the room wasn't secondary to protecting somebody else. It was part of why she was here.
A notification appeared on her terminal to announce the arrival of the man she'd been expecting.
Zes set her drink aside, leaving the basic information she'd gathered visible on the display. There was no reason to manufacture the atmosphere of an interrogation when she had nothing to accuse him of. She simply wanted to meet the man behind the Synthos name and find out what had brought him into Mahporeem's orbit.
When the door opened, Zesiro looked up and offered Malek a small smile before gesturing toward the chair opposite her.
"Mr. Synthos. Come in and have a seat."
Malek Sythos
