An Interesting Proposal (Kal)

[Ismene Leone]

Bothawu was not where Ismene particularly wanted to be.

Today was supposed to be a day off - if such a thing existed; she had heard of the mythical being but never actually seen it - yet she had been woken early and summoned to a meeting with her parents. Lissa and Jareth Leone were supposed to be meeting with individuals from the Confederacy prior to expanding their operations to the planet. She had been hoping to have a few days without meeting with some grimy businessmen - perhaps fencing, or refreshing her musical abilities; she had neglected them since leaving the academy. Instead she was here.

We're going to have to send you instead, Ismene. Something has come up that your father and I need to attend to elsewhere. We trust you will get the same excellent results we have come to expect from you.

That was it. No apology. No thanks. Occasionally, such as on the long flight to Bothawu, Ismene wondered how long it would take before she got tired to living up to their expectations. Then her training would kick in and she would discipline herself, marshall such unworthy thoughts out of her mind. They were distractions she could ill afford, particularly when meeting - she shuddered - diplomats. All her parents had confirmed was that they were attempting to wine and dine the Confederacy to ensure a smooth expansion, and where wining and dining were, diplomats were sure to follow.

The building she had eventually arrived at was cold and sterile, and she had been ushered into what appeared to be a waiting room. Ill at ease, since she was usually the one making others do the waiting, Ismene simply decided to wait, standing as close to attention as she felt appropriate, mind kept on a tight leash to keep it from wandering.

 

[Kal Strife]

Bothawui.

It was strange, he'd never expected to return here. Never expected to be able to, except at the head of an invading army. But of course, his bombing of the cities of Bothawui was ancient history now, forgotten by all but the most learned of scholars. And even were his crimes not forggotten, it hardly seemed likely that anyone would draw a link between the ancient butcher and the Corellian who arrived on their world some seven hundred years after the last bombs fell.

Hardly likely, but stranger things had happened.

Still, Kal Strife was not one to let faint possibilities trouble him overmuch, and he had set that one aside quickly enough. If he was recognised, so be it - he would not shy away from bathing his hands in Bothan blood once again - yet there was no point dwelling on it. Instead, he had turned his thoughts to the agenda that had brought him into the heart of the Confederacy, and to how the fabled Bothan spynet, though only a fraction of what it had been prior to the four hundred year darkness, could aid him in achieving his aims. As a exercise of thought, it had taken little imagination; as he had conceded to Salem aboard Exis Station, information was vital, and where better to find it?

Who knew? Maybe the Bothans would even prove valuable enough to quell his instinct to finish the job he had started.

In the meantime, however, Kal had been forced to focus on more mundane matters. The needs of the Confederation, and suchlike. Most had been dull, meaningless conversations with people who should never have been sent his way, but who should instead have been referred to the Viceroys or the Techno Union, or even to Norongachi. A handful of others had been valuable, allowing him to make connections that might otherwise have slipped through his fingers. And this next appointment of his, ah, well that was the cream of the crop, particularly with the last minute change in attendees he had been made aware of only a handful of minutes previously. This was a meeting that could be of value long after his alliance-of-conveniance with Norongachi's forces had run its course, if it was handled carefully. Otherwise... well, Kal had no time for otherwises. The meeting would be done, and it would be done well. After all, the Corellian would be handling it himself.

With that thought in his mind, the Corellian rose from his desk - having checked his messages to determine 'his' agents in the spynet hadn't reported anything of worth - and strode across to the doorway of his commandeered office. Beyond, a small waiting area was visible, occupied only by a droid secretary and a young woman of perhaps Kal's own age. His apparent age, anyway, since he doubted she found a way to conceal the ravages of seven centuries of life. "[member="Ismene Leone"]?" he queried, just a trace of a smile on his lips, "Please, come with me."

 

[Ismene Leone]

At the sound of footsteps, Ismene turned her attention towards the direction they came from, her sharp eyes alert behind her glasses, taking in every detail that may be of use. Here, she was to be disappointed - instead of a corpulent figure, easy to bribe, or a lecherous man, easy to seduce to her own way, she encountered a man who appeared to be approximately her own age. He had reddish brown hair, cool grey eyes, and wore a long coat that concealed his frame; from his confident stance and the authority that radiated off him, Ismene guessed he kept himself in good condition. He was, in short, too much like her for any of her usual tactics to work.

Damn.

His small smile did little to set her at ease. Ismene inclined her head in acknowledgement when he spoke her name, although she did smile herself - her usual smile, an indicator that she was not, in fact, amused.

"Captain Ismene Leone," she said, firmly but politely. She hadn't spent years at the academy and then spilling blood on the field of battle to lose her title now. Besides, she suspected that the man who had approached was also a military man, and would most likely, she hoped, have some small respect for others in the same profession. She already knew that this meeting wasn't going to go the way she had hoped, which was probably why her parents had sent her rather than come themselves. Thanks for warning me, she thought, frowning briefly before schooling her features once more.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir," she commented, falling into step slightly behind the commanding figure.

 

[Kal Strife]

Captain Leone? Ah, now that was interesting. And she had the look of a military woman besides, so it likely wasn't the self-awarded title that so many fringers affected. But, Kal had to wonder, which arm of the military had seen fit to elevate this woman to the rank? And, more importantly, whose military?

"My apologies," he murmured after a moment, though he didn't specify whether he offered apology for the error in title or the fact that he hadn't introduced himself, "My name is Kal Strife." He could have prefixed half a dozen titles to his name, not the least of which was Admiral, yet what would be the point? Most of the empires which had awarded him such prestigious ranks were little more than dust, and those that remained had assuredly forgotten him. Besides, often it was better to leave people guessing as to exactly who they were dealing with.

Motioning to one of the seats set on one side of the desk he had appropriated for himself, Kal perched himself on the edge of the synthleather chair opposite. Steepling his fingers, he peered over them, resting his gaze on [member="Ismene Leone"] for a long moment as though studying a particularly interesting puzzle, before allowing his gaze to flick down toward the console inlaid into the desk. "It says here, Captain," he remarked, enunciating her title carefully and without evident mockery, "That you are looking to expand your operations onto Bothawui? Or, rather, Jareth and Lissa Leone are so seeking. I believe I was originally slated to meet them, was I not?" It wasn't a question for they both knew full well that the Corellian spoke the truth, and, regardless, he gave no time for a response to be formulated, let alone presented before he continued, "Well, no matter. Tell me of Leoncrest Enterprises. Sell me your dream."

 

[Ismene Leone]

Sell me your dream.

Ismene almost laughed at this. [member="Kal Strife"] had no way of guessing what her dream was. It was a child's dream, the same dream she had had since she was old enough to understand what dreams were: her parents' love, not just the same empty platitudes they had for the rest of their managers. One look that said she was more to them than an heir, a tool to keep their fortune from the rest of the galaxy at large.

Dreams, she had realised at a young age, were for fools. The universe had yet to prove her wrong on that front.

"I'm afraid that Jareth and Lissa had most urgent business to attend to," Ismene said, keeping her eyes fixed on Kal. He had offered no title and so she was off guard: was he simply a mister, or was he concealing high office from her? She settled the matter by avoiding addressing him by name - after all, they were the only two people in the room: it was unlikely she was talking to the wall. "They send their apologies."

They didn't, but her job consisted of covering for them and getting the deal done, and she was damned if she was going to fail.

"You seem a practical man," she started. It hadn't been what she had planned, but Ismene decided to go for complete honesty. It was a refreshing approach and one she hadn't used in some time. "I could tell you of our dreams to bring about peace and prosperity, but I would not found our acquaintance on lies. Leoncrest Enterprises is primarily a weapons manufacturer, so spouting dreams of peace would be foolish when it is war that brings profits. As for prosperity, the only prosperity Jareth and Lissa Leone are concerned with is their own. As heir to their empire, I assure you it is a concern of mine also." She leaned back in the chair, removed her glasses, fixed her cold green eyes on Kal.

"The expansion to Bothawui is simply to increase our presence in this region of the galaxy. It is difficult to have an empire, business or otherwise, that does not reach to all worlds, Core or Outer Rim. We intend to build factories, produce our merchandise, and sell the same to anyone. We do not affiliate politically because that would be bad for business." Ismene shrugged, quoting her father. "We produce the weapons. What others do with them is their responsibility." She had her own views on that, but she was not Leoncrest Enterprises.

"Our primary reason for engaging with the Confederacy, with yourself, is to discuss any possible objections to our presence here, and to negotiate to ensure those objections... disappear."

There. It was no use trying to convince him they were out for the good of mankind, or that they wanted to ally. This was business, and in truth Jareth was known for stirring up conflicts. Wars, as he told her frequently, sold weapons. Peace was not desirable.

 

[Kal Strife]

Such honesty was refreshing. Out of place, perhaps, particularly in this Corporate environment, yet refreshing nonetheless. Kal appreciated that, yet his expression betrayed not a hint of that appreciation as he arched one eyebrow speculatively. "You would sell weapons to anyone, Captain Leone?" he echoed softly, "The Sith? The Omega Protectorate? The Horde? I would imagine that I would hardly be the first to raise issue with that." Of course course he wouldn't be, just as [member="Ismene Leone"] wouldn't be the first arms dealer to try and make their fortune off playing both sides in a conflict. A foolish endeavour, and one that never ended well in the Confederate's experience, yet it seemed that some people were doomed to repeat the mistakes of their predecessors.

Rising to his feet, Kal stepped across to the window that dominated one wall of the office. "Look beyond this window. What do you see? Bothawui? Just another city? I imagine it's something along those lines. I see a world that has been devastated thrice over." Once by his own hand, but there was no point in mentioning that now. "A world that already prepares for a war we know to be inevitable." Pausing momentarily, he swept his gaze over the cityscape, sharp eyes picking out the shapes of troop transports and patrol craft as they made ready for the coming storm. "A world," he concluded after a moment, "That would appear to be under my protection for the moment." An odd prospect that, and one that threatened to draw a wry smile to Strife's lips as he turned his gaze back to Leone. Did she understand what he was getting at? What he was trying to say without speaking the words aloud?

Perhaps not. Perhaps it was best to be blunt.

"Many of those within the Confederacy would have had you arrested already, Captain Leone," he noted, his tone surprisingly casual for one who spoke of such things, "Your company and assets seized and turned to the war effort. I believe that's the standard punishment for profiteering against the interests of the CIS. The punishment for actually supplying weaponry to enemies in times of war is harsher still." Eyeing her coldly, he paused a moment, allowing her a brief opportunity to absorb his words. Would she react as he expected? Would the anticipated question follow? The Corellian believed so, but nothing was ever certain when it came to sentient beings.

 

[Ismene Leone]

Ismene tensed as [member="Kal Strife"] spoke. It didn't show except for a slight stiffness about the shoulders, the twitch of her fingers as she debated going for a gun and then realising she hadn't brought one. The soldier in her responded much as one would expect to threats, no matter how veiled and offhand they seemed. It took mere seconds for her to compose herself once more, and to her own surprise she joined Kal at the window.

"I see a world like any other," she replied distantly, her mind rifling through her memories. "A world with people who need to defend themselves. The problem with war, sir, is that there are usually two or more sides. If only one side has access to weapons technology, then how can the others defend themselves? What use is selling sticks and stones to one faction when the other has access to fire and lightning? By providing weapons to anyone who is interested in buying, we allow both sides equal chance. War is won by words and deeds, not by what you hold in your hands." She had won a few battles herself, was speaking from the heart. If he wanted to arrest her... well, just let him try. Their business wasn't yet venturing on Confederacy territory; there were, yet, no assets he could seize. Besides, did he truly imagine the Leones cared who bought their goods? They hadn't so much as looked at the order book to see who was buying what in decades.

"People grow uncomfortable when people in our line of business begin to make moral judgements. It is not for the makers of the axe to decide which beasts the butcher culls." It was a poor metaphor, but Ismene wasn't particularly gifted with words. That was her father's domain, damn him. Maybe this was why he had sent her, instead - to let her get arrested for their trouble. She looked away, trying to hide the wave of fury that swept over her.

"My parents will not choose sides in a conflict. If you wish discounts on purchases, if you wish for Confederacy orders to be given priority over others in the factories based on your worlds, that I can accept. If you wish for Leoncrest Enterprises to openly declare themselves your allies in any conflicts, I suspect they will look elsewhere in their expansion."

This was the part of her job that grated on her nerves. She was a soldier. They had trained her, insisted she become an officer, taught her all about war, and now they insisted she remain neutral, forgo everything she had stood for just to make them more money.

One day, she would run the business. That was the thought that kept her going.

 

[Kal Strife]

Once more than ghost of a smile touched upon the Corellian's features, there one moment and then gone quickly enough that one might almost have doubted they ever saw it. "Beasts?" he echoed softly, "Is that how you see people?" In truth, it wasn't all that different from his own beliefs, but he had a role to play here. There were expectations, and it would not do to disappoint people. Not yet, at least.

"I will be blunt," Strife continued, having let the question hang uncomfortably in the air for a long moment, "A discount means little to the Confederation, and priority purchasing means even less when the Techno Union already produces so much for us. I see little you can offer us." His words were cold, hard. Dismissive. "You may leave. Our interview is concluded, and permission denied." So speaking, Kal turned on his heel and stepped across to his desk once more.

Dropping lightly onto his seat, he glanced down at his terminal, before raising his gaze to [member="Ismene Leone"] once again, once eyebrow raised speculatively as he enquired, "Unless, of course, you have anything else to add?" She would. The Corellian knew that, just as the woman before him would know that he knew. That was how this game was played, after all; one person feigned disinterest in the product, while the other feigned a disinterested in selling it. It was absurd, paradoxical even, yet somehow it worked, and had done so for countless millennia.

Hells below, at least the battlefield is honest.

 

[Ismene Leone]

Permission denied.

There was no way she could leave here with that as the final world. Years of endless disappointment for existing, for being the wrong gender, for wanting more than her parents could offer - she had finally made it to a point where she was of value for them and now she was going to fail. Why? Why had those words, trotted out on every world they had a foothold on, not worked here?

Her parents, she realised, probably didn't even know what she would come across here. Had they predicted a man like [member="Kal Strife"] they would have changed tactics, briefed her. The truth, and it hit her like a freighter, was simply that they didn't care.

Acknowledging that opened more doors than she was comfortable with in company. There would be time to muse on that when she was alone, when she had succeeded here and changed the Confederacy's mind. Ismene studied the world outside the window, aware of the seconds ticking away as Kal waited for her departure, or her next comments. Would they be enough to change his mind? She did want to succeed, for herself as much as for her parents. Failure did not come easily to one such as she.

"I have seen too many people die," she said, the words coming from far away, from someone other than herself, "to think of them in such simple terms." Often dead by her own hand, but this wasn't necessary to add. "People are warriors and peacemakers, butchers and beasts, artists and lovers and friends and enemies. I think those who have led a life of luxury," her parents, "cannot understand the complexity of the human soul." Only when the light left their eyes were they simple at last.

"This planet is much like any other. Ravaged by plague and war. Desperate for respite. In need of a protector, yes. Maybe they don't need people like my- like Leoncrest Enterprises here." She had almost slipped. In all her years, she had never slipped. It was too much to hope that Kal had overlooked it. "Although we bring jobs, security and prosperity for our employees, it is true that manufacturing weapons technology can be dangerous. Putting weapons in the hands of the people encourages them to use them, and the galaxy has enough itchy trigger fingers."

Ismene frowned, turned to look at Kal. What would I say, she wondered, if this was my company?

"Let us drop this charade, Kal. I am first and foremost a soldier, not a businesswoman, and I tire of the endless dance. I believe we would both benefit from speaking freely with one another." She folded her arms, relaxed her shoulders slightly to let her appearance match her words. "I cannot make promises for Jareth and Lissa Leone. I believe you understand that, and you also understand that they are the company. I cannot vow the company will become stalwart supporters of your cause because it is not mine to pledge. What I can offer, in return for further consideration of the proposed expansion to Bothawui, is perhaps more valuable than the presence of the company itself." She spoke before her mind checked itself and stopped her mouth uttering the words. "I can offer you an ally."

 

[Kal Strife]

When [member="Ismene Leone"] spoke of bringing an end to their charade, she found a willing listener in Kal Strife. He too was a soldier first and foremost, though events of years gone by had forced him to develop the skills necessary to cross blades in a duel of the mind as well as a duel of the body, to triumph on the battlefield of the boardroom and the senate chambers. So the opportunity to discard the facades forced upon them by the expectations of others was welcome.

Yes, they would speak honestly, soldier to soldier.

Leaning back in his chair, the Corellian motioned for Ismene to continue, to elaborate on the promising start. While she spoke of the limitations, the assurances she couldn't give, his face remained a cold mask. Yet his mind whirled, picking out the unspoken words, the messages within messages. The not so subtle hints that, when coupled with Ismene's earlier slip, suggested that felt that Leoncrest would be facing a far more prosperous future - and a far closer bond with the Confederation of Independent Systems - were the company to suddenly find itself needing to appoint a new CEO. Well, that was hardly surprising, and certainly she wouldn't be the first child to dream of drawing their inheritance a little early.

Yet when the woman spoke on, making promises of an alliance should he consider his decision, Strife found his eyes narrowing as he regarded the woman contemplatively. Did see understand what she spoke of? Did she even mean what he took her words to mean? Important questions, yet besides the true question they paled into insignificance. "Tell me, Captain Leone, what do you offer? And to whom?" These were the true questions, and he spoke them softly, but with a weave of the Force twisted about the words to compel honesty. A crude trick, perhaps, but talk of alliances could not be taken lightly, especially when he found himself forced to rebuild his network of assets almost from scratch.

 

[Ismene Leone]

At last she appeared to be making progress. Disposing of the necessary facades and speaking as one soldier to another - for there could be no doubt in her mind that Kal was an experienced soldier - had done much more to progress her negotiations than days of wining and dining. She had been right in her initial assumption that he was a practical man and would respond better to her than, to be blunt, the mantle of a businesswoman she was encouraged to don. Yet there was something odd about his words; she couldn't put her finger on it, and it wouldn't do to be so uncouth as to draw his attention to it, but something was definitely amiss.

Nevertheless she was now committed, and so she proceeded in making her offer without so much as batting an eyelid.

"I would not lay down my life for you," she said, a cool smile on her face. She had yet to find someone she would lay down her life for, and certainly she wouldn't offer it here for the sake of a few factories. "I believe such an act demands a greater bond than a first meeting can offer." He had addressed her as Captain, acknowledging, perhaps, her experience and prowess. No doubt he would shortly know all there was to know about her; she certainly intended to ask more than a few questions about the mysterious [member="Kal Strife"]. Once he knew all, he would perhaps be better able to appreciate what she was offering.

"I have no plans to sign on with the Confederacy in order to prove my words true. It is you and I in this room, bargaining for powers other than ourselves. Yet I trust you have the power to convince the Confederacy of the merits of our expansion to Bothawui, should you feel such a thing would be beneficial: therefore I make my offer to you, and you alone, for now."

Ismene paused for thought before uttering the next words, for despite the distance she kept and the logical manner in which she approached things, she did have some emotions, a code of honour of her own devising. She would keep to her word.

"If you need my assistance, you will have it, no matter the cause."

 

[Kal Strife]

Ah now, so there was the truth of it; this was not an offer of aid for the Confederation, but an offer of aid for Kal Strife, an alliance on the personal level. By all accounts, he should have ended the conversation then and there, left the woman to her dreams of parricide if he was feeling generous, or cast her down to the Sanctuary's cells if he wasn't. Yet Kal's alignment with the Confederation of Independent System was hardly likely to survive the coming months - both he and [member="Salem Norongachi"] knew that all too well - and the Corellian knew that he would eventually need allies elsewhere.

And if they were allies with resources he could utilise for the greater good, so much the better.

Still, it would be best to proceed carefully, for though Kal hardly believed Norongachi was the sort to send agents to root out seeds of treachery - no, the man was far too blunt thinking for that - that didn't preclude other officers of the CIS from engaging in such a course of action. "You realise what the penalty for this offer could be?" he inquired, his gaze lingering on her even as he reached out through the tangled weaves of the Force, gently probing for signs of deception or treachery. There were none. That was a positive sign, though it didn't prove anything given the techniques one could learn with enough effort, but what he did sense was far more interesting than any deception could ever have been.

She's sensitive to the Force.

As discoveries went, it was an intriguing one, and one that added all the more weight to the Corellian's initial inclination to accept her offer. After all, it was not every day that you found an individual who could touch the weaves and who was willing to pledge themselves to your cause.

"Twenty years indentured servitude," he remarked abruptly, answering his own question before chuckling at the tinge of emotion he sensed from the eternally composed woman, "That's the standard penalty. But you don't need to worry about that for now. Your terms are acceptable; you will pledge to my cause, and ensure that Leoncrest provide the CIS with preferred buyer status so long as I wish them to. In exchange, I will make certain... arrangements to ensure you get the necessary permits."

 

[Ismene Leone]

Ismene released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. Yes, she had been wary of Kal's initial comment - was he going to try and arrest her? She hadn't necessarily been going against the Confederacy with her offer; truth be told, she didn't much care for galactic politics. They were one as bad as the other in her own meagre view; bloated bureaucrats willing to step on bodies to get what they wanted. Her offer had been made as a mark of respect towards a man in much the same mould as she, as well as being a bargaining chip that appeared to have been successful where usual techniques failed.

And now that he had accepted her offer, she knew she could soon leave Bothawui. It wasn't so much the planet as the man himself that unsettled her, and she knew the more space she could put between them, the better. Of course, if he called, she would come. With her dislike of causes she rarely offered herself, now that she was freed from military constraints: but when she did commit, it was more than whole-heartedly - it was with every fibre of her being.

"Leoncrest thanks you," she said, standing smartly to attention and saluting in lieu of a handshake. "I, too, offer my gratitude to you for your reconsideration of the matter." She could go home triumphant, could tell her parents she had won them the necessary permission to expand to this sector. Could earn a few more gentle words to soothe her lonely heart. "I trust I will be hearing from you in due course, [member="Kal Strife"]."

 

[Kal Strife]

So it was agreed then, not with the handshake that was so typical of business deals, but with the salute of a soldier, a salute that Kal returned with not a moment's hesitation. And though this deal was as formal as any struck in a boardroom, there would be not a single record made of it, no written contract or digital notification, for placing the details of this agreement in writing would be the surest way of bringing an end to it. No, in this case they would be relying upon their honour as warriors to bind them both.

"Indeed, Captain Leone," the Corellian remarked with a brisk nod, "I imagine I will be in touch very shortly. After all, we will have much business to discuss in the coming weeks. But for now, allow me to wish you a safe journey." He could have left it there; it was a logical place to drop the conversation, but Kal had one further thing he wished to put voice to. A test, of sorts.

"May the Force go with you."

Such a simple phrase, but one that could provoke the must telling of reactions in people, particularly those who sought to conceal their ability to shape the Force. That was a lesson Strife had learnt long ago, when he served the Inquisitorious, and now he watched [member="Ismene Leone"] carefully, flinty eyes searching for even a twitch of emotion.

 

[Ismene Leone]

The Force.

Two words was all it took to remove Ismene from Bothawui and take her back to the academy, to her twelve year old self standing in a classroom, listening in silence to words like Force sensitive and midichlorians. She had chosen then not to pursue the Force, not to leave the academy and disappoint her parents; that had been the last she had ever heard of it. She'd almost forgotten about it until Kal's pointed choice of farewell reminded her. Ismene snapped back to the present with one thought dominant in her mind: he knows.

What he knew, and what he intended to do with that knowledge, was concerning.

The silence was dragging on suspiciously long, uncomfortably long. Ismene studied [member="Kal Strife"], trying to ascertain what he expected of her, but getting nothing. She was a good reader of people but Kal wasn't simply a closed book; he was closed, locked, and under heavy guard. Nothing was given away by that calm face.

"And with you," she said at last, finding that she had to break the silence somehow. Ismene inclined her head, acknowledging his words; perhaps even acknowledging that his comment had some meaning for her. At this point, she was barely sure of anything other than her pressing need to put distance between herself and Strife before he led her even further off her chosen path.