Contact

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Kinthar was asleep. It was during these wee hours in the morning that Cyril chose to contact the Prime Minister. He trusted the woman more than he trusted many of his counterparts, and she was the elected leader of the Republic after all. For a time, he'd served her adviser and protector. It was only right that he spoke to her directly on these matters.

He secured a holocomm in the center of the cell's underground hideaway. Everyone else was either dozing off or out for drinks. He had a good half hour time to send a message.

Clad in full Jedi Robes, a brown hood drawn over his face, he keyed in the comm to a nearby satellite. The signal was then boosted, and transmitted directly to 'ol Gen's holocomm. It displayed his signature so that the woman would actually bother to pick it up.

"Come on Gen, pick up."

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

The Prime Minister gasped as she jolted out of her sleep, the datapad on her bedside table aglow and pinging softly. Her heterochromic eyes danced wildly--scarred eye slightly delayed; lazy--as she searched for the source of the disturbance before realizing it was simply a holocall page. What the frak is it on now? While more-or-less constantly in demand, Lasedri did not usually receive midnight calls.

The face of the Galactic Republic was not anything special in the night hours as far as attire and such were concerned. A tank top and a pair of boy shorts were all Gen wore when in the Ministerial Suite. Practical and comfortable. Probably not the best outfit to wear during a holoconference, but she would check who her caller was before making that mistake. Groaning as she set her feet down on the floor and removed herself from her bed, Geneviève tread laboriously for her office room and closed the door behind her so whatever was about to go down would not wake up Miria.

Cyril Grayson? The hell... Then she saw the image that identified the man. "Rade." It had been a while since Gen had last heard from the eccentric, self-appointed 'guardian' of the Prime Minister--then Chief of Senate. Not a snotty enough person to require she get dressed for, but not really someone she was entirely excited to hear from at this time of night. This had better be important.

Pulling her tank top taut so that it came down just above her navel, Prime Minister Lasedri took a seat in front of the projector and accepted the stream, whatever advanced transceiver this was connected to establishing an OTP-encrypted connection by sending the clearance codes via a recursive packet. No one could listen in on any of this.

"Sithspit," Gen muttered as the signal came through, rubbing at her brown eye and contact-less white eye to dispel the natural, blurry night filter that had not quite adjusted yet. "It's a little early, don't you think?"

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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The thin outline of Cyril's face shone out from under the hood. He looked wide awake - more so than he ever had when working with Gen. His grief for the battle of Kashyyk no longer ruled him, and he'd learned to move on in his own way. Still, the Jedi Master was privately haunted by those memories. All the men lost.

"You know I have to keep the Jedi persona Gen. Early morning holocalls and space voodoo are all in the cards. Force knows my compatriots don't." He teased, offering a good natured smile.

"Really though, I apologize for calling you so early. I know how busy running the Republic is, but this is important, and I'm not sure if I'll have another time to do it." A moment's pause.

"I love you."

Another pause. "Kidding! I actually wanted to get in touch with you about the going ons of Balmorra. Particularly the Imperial revolutionaries within. They're beginning to revolt against the Sith, and their cause is spreading. I'm helping it along."

He snickered, and shook his head. Poor Gen. He'd likely gave the Prime Minister an early morning heart attack.

"The number of them, it's...noteworthy. They might actually manage to take Coruscant, Gen. I'm going to help them. We can establish peace with the Imps, not the Sith. I need the Republic to stage an invasion the day of so we can catch the Sith off balance. Do you think that would be possible?"

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

The Jedi persona. There were many things Gen liked to hide or distort about her character. But maintaining a 'Jedi' facade was something she was grateful she had never had to commit to. Right. Get on with it now.

While she trusted Cyril--or Graxin, as she had better known him--to a marginally greater extent than she did most people (which was, quite frankly, not saying too much), early morning calls did not really afford the most pleasant of attitudes. She rubbed her eyes once more to clear out the rheum that had collected in her eyes.

No. What did he just say? No. No no no no no. No. This time of night was not great for jokes. Her cheeks were briefly aflame, then dropped temperature and lost color as she simply stared at the image of Cyril, dumbfounded.

The frak. She looked about nervously to make sure Miria was not up, and regained control of her breath. Returning her attention to the holoprojector, Geneviève shot needles through her brown and ghost eye. "I don't know anymore, Cyril. I get stonewalled every chance I try to bring my Republic forward. It's driving me insane. Really. The 'brilliance' of these people--it astounds me. They don't know how to fight a war.

"That being said, you know I'm not fond of empires. I'd rather not do this at all. Are you sure this is the way it's going to go? The Sith--they don't die." Again, she scanned the room, utterly paranoid about anyone else hearing this whatsoever. "I'm about to start taking things into my own hands."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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"Careful there Gen. Blush any harder and I might think I've embarrassed you." Cyril teased, settling down on one of the shipping crates the cell used as furniture.

Taking things into her own hands? He could only imagine what the Prime Minister meant by that. In all honesty, he would likely approve. Cyril had a reputation for siding with the senate rather than the council on recent issues - he was an adherent to the code, but he knew it was not always correct. Sometimes things just needed to get done. Sometimes those things were difficult to understand.

"It's already an Empire Gen. With the Moffs in control, we can negotiate with them. Bring about a cease-fire, maybe even end the war all together. It's better than the alternative." He lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. "Whether the senate or the council wants to admit it, you and I both know we're losing this war. We have to take whatever we can get to secure the Republic's survival."

A moment's pause.

"I understand your issues. The Senators can be...difficult, and the Council likes to take its time with every little issue, though they've gotten better in recent years. We can't wait on their deliberations." Another pause. "If you ask me, you should call a vote for executive powers. Secure what we need to end this war - send the army our way when the time is right, and then I can do my part."

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]