Tense silence fell over the chamber. It felt like a slab of solid beskar sitting directly on the festivities. Only the distant roar of podracers on the dunes threatened the icy atmosphere. The minor Vigos and criminal elements had ceased eating and drinking; the Black Sun Guard stood at attention, hands resting on blasters; the Republic diplomats had turned pale… one looked as though he might lose his lunch.
And then there was Quinn and the Republic trooper.
The
princess and a
soldier… in a
pissing contest.
Velzari’s laugh slashed the air like a lightsaber through durasteel. And it wasn’t a chuckle; it was a deep, boisterous laugh that carried for several long moments. He was the only one amused, but it was deeply so.
“
Ah,” the Underlord mused, wiping his eyes with a small linen cloth, “
I haven’t laughed this hard since Madclaw ripped Hakar’s arm off on Reuss VIII!” A few more laughs followed before Velzari’s eyebrows settled into their typical furrowed shape above his sharp, intelligent eyes. He looked like a bird of prey, sizing up a meal before diving in for the kill.
“
I applaud the Republic’s courage,” he said, “
but that loose tongue of yours will get you into trouble. Especially when you’re wagging it in a room full of criminal minds and Sith Lords. Not a wise place to be so… bold.”
The Underlord took this moment of statuesque silence to step aside and reach for his glass. A thin, bright-green liquid gently swirled as he brought it to his lips. He swallowed, faced the mouthy trooper, then smiled.
“
Were I not so preoccupied, I’d have you all beaten, chained, and shipped to Hutt Space. I imagine the Republic would pay top-dollar for their High Chancellor, two senators, and a handful of commandos.”
He took another sip, as if ransoming prisoners were casual talk… though for Black Sun, it certainly was.
“
I’m afraid I simply don’t have the time… or the patience, frankly. And I certainly don’t want to miss the races.” Velzari nodded as the words left his lips, a signal to his enforcers.
In a split moment, their dual-blasters were raised and their fingers hugged the triggers.
“
Your families will thank me for this kindness. There are far worse ways to die,” Velzari said to the Republic party.
And to his enforcers, a single command: “
Try not to kill Miss du Vain. She and I have some catching up to do.”
They let loose on the enemy, firing at will. Velzari watched icily, sipping at his drink; to him, ordering the deaths of a half-dozen men was equally entertaining as the Boonta Eve Classic.
