Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Cui Prodeste

Always Watching, Sometimes Canon
It is difficult to say upon which words the fate of worlds can turn. When they are written, when they are read, when they are spoken or said, they are only words, after all. Only the Force and time can separate meaning and power from dross. A careless phrase may only be a phrase, utterly without unintended consequence; but then, too, it may not. Those same words may instead expose hidden secrets, spur unexpected choices, create a spark that will someday burn down empires. Therefore, it is considered wisdom to weigh one's words wisely, and only release them into the universe when you are truly prepared to pay their price--whatever it may be.

Let us, then, look at an example of such words whose nature is yet unknown: In a set of private quarters on Kalidan, a personal comlink chimes. A new message has just been received on that frequency, from a sender the comlink's owner had never expected to hear from personally.

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Less than two hours later, the first consequence comes. It does so quietly, on a world far from Kalidan, where a remote server for a small, struggling smuggler's guild pings with activity. The message is a job posting, similar to many the guild would receive in the time before the Empire. Only two things about the request set it apart: the encryption on the message no less than six levels deep, and a projected payment calculated to be far too high to even consider ignoring.

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Now, then. Let us see clearly, which way such a story will wind.


Kainan Wolfe Kainan Wolfe | Vyra Silara Vyra Silara | Vidalu Na'an Vidalu Na'an | LE-03 (Leigh) LE-03 (Leigh) | Galdaart Galdaart | Loreena Arenais-Valhoun Loreena Arenais-Valhoun | Adelle Bastiel Adelle Bastiel | Khorde Drago Khorde Drago | Lyla Quinn Lyla Quinn | Viktor Goetz Viktor Goetz | Eryn Eryn | Cero Pax Cero Pax | Kelsie Sylvan Kelsie Sylvan
 
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The colossal fortress of Wulfngard, with its dark spires that rose up from the frozen landscape, four kilometers into the air, hanged over the horizon like a constant reminder of the Eternal Empire's resilience, of its indomitable power, its very existence an act of defiance against the universe itself. The fortress which, like everything else on Kalidan, was designed and built to withstand the six hundred kilometers per hour gales of wind of the planet's notorious superblizzards, was a true marvel of engineering which seemed to defy physics and the laws of nature. It was the headquarters of the Eternal Empire's harsh, totalitarian regime, serving as both the residence of the Eternal Emperor, as well as the halls of the Imperial Assembly and the fortified bunkers of Strategic Command, which, in the Empire's military dictatorship, served as the executive branch of the government.

Few outsiders were ever granted the privilege of visiting the grandiose, heavily fortified structure, yet an invitation had been extended to one such outsider, a companion of the Emperor's fiancé, which had attracted the Sith Lord's curiosity after the events which only recently had unfolded within the southern wastes. Tacitus who had, at first, dismissed Vyra's companions just as he usually dismissed those he deemed irrelevant in relation to his work, had been surprised by the reports Baron Goetz's troops had issued. Who took down a Tyrant Dragon using nothing but a rope?

Upon arrival, Na'an would be greeted by a military officer flanked by a protocol droid and a pair of Ultranauts, who would introduce himself as Lieutenant Rasche and bid her to follow him, with that cold, machine-like demeanor of the Imperials, who's culture emphasized professionalism and abhorred the notion of wasting time with unnecessary things such as idle conversation, silently leading the way through a winding maze of cavernous corridors built out of some kind of stone and grey duracrete arranged in a style which mixed utilitarian practicality and the grandiose, imposing pillars, archways and friezes favored by the Empire's architects, every sculpted stone paying homage to the state, depicting scenes of tragedy and battle, of the defiant and desperate resistance of a people besieged on all sides by twisted representations of Jedi, of parents clutching the broken bodies of their uniformed sons and daughters and scenes of Imperial triumphs, the triskelion emblem of the Eternal Empire hanging above engravings of victorious Imperial soldiers raising a flag on top of a pile of rubble. These were scenes from the Empire's history, of its betrayal at the hand of those who professed themselves as being the defenders of the Light, of the horrific tragedies inflicted upon it and the bitter revenge that was its response. It was the story of how the Empire came to be, how it became the dark, oppressive dictatorship that now threatened to envelop the Unknown Regions under a veil of oppression presented as order.

A final turbolift would lead to a long corridor, at the end of which stood a pair of massive wooden doors, with images of wolves carved into it. A pair of soldiers stood motionless on either side, wearing wolf-headed cloaks over their armors, giving them a feral appearance that contrasted heavily with their unshakable discipline, swords hanging from their belts and rifles in their hands. Wolfguards, the Emperor's infamous and dreaded personal enforcers and some of the most feared and skilled warriors in the galaxy who's swordsmanship was often described as second to none.

The doors would part to reveal a sparsely-furnished office, populated by rows of shelves on its flanks, containing row upon row of real, paper books. Aside from a few couches surrounding a slab of some transparent material held suspended into the air by some kind of hidden repulsorlift mechanism, which served as a coffee table of sorts, the only other furniture was a massive, hardwood desk, finely crafted, yet simple in its design, several datapads, stacks of paper and pens arranged neatly on top of it. A high-backed, imposing chair served as seating for the Sith Lord, while two smaller chairs stood opposite of it, their design intended to remind visitors of their status as beneath the Emperor's station. And behind it all, stood a set of massive windows, overlooking the fortress beneath and the mountains beyond. The only decoration in the room, were a set of crimson-and-black banners of the Eternal Empire, embroidered with the snarling wolf's head that was the coat of arms of the Emperor's dynasty, House Malvern, the House of Wolves, as it was sometimes known.

The Emperor's seat was empty, instead, the man, dressed as always in his white uniform, red sash and Chains of Office draped over his shoulder, stood in front of one of the windows, looking out at the harsh landscape outside, hands clasped behind his back, weathered hands that ended in sharp, deadly looking talons that could tear a man apart. A small sigh escaped his lips as his guest was led inside.

"Tell me," he asked as his hand gestured at the view beyond, speaking in clear Basic, his voice sounding like harsh, rough gravel, as weathered and calloused as the Sith Lord's appearance. "What do you see?"

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Wanderer Lost, Wanderer Found
Location: Wulfngard | Kalidan, The Eternal Empire

“What do I see?”

Vidalu Na’an hadn’t wanted to be here. From the moment the summons had come, in her and Leigh’s tiny quarters adjacent to the Empress Apparent, she had very desperately not wanted to come. Her Majesty--Vyra--had made a point to keep the two of them out of the sight of the Emperor while she solidified her position as his blushing bride-to-be. Whether that was to keep the two of them from kicking up trouble on this strange, cold-eyed world, or for some other reason, Na’an wasn’t sure, but it suited her just fine. Being here on Kalidan, where she didn’t belong and where she couldn’t leave, was pressure enough. What little news trickled down to her through Vyra--about Kalidan, about the Eternal Empire she was now inside--was the kind that only ratcheted the tension up higher.

But then the summons had come: a private audience with the Emperor in his home. There was no way to refuse it, this demand from the strange, golden-eyed man Vyra had given up everything any of them had had for. If she’d so much as tried, who knows what would have happened--to herself, to Adelle.

To Leigh.

Leigh’s position was the one that needed the most protecting. She didn’t have a job like Adelle that made her of use, or the safety of being the Empress’ strange little pet--she was only a droid, on a world where droids meant nothing. And it was Leigh that told her that the wisest move would be to comply without delay, and her partner never said such things without good reason. It was the thought of Leigh, then, that kept her mouth shut as she’d made her way here. It was the thought of Leigh that kept her feet moving through hallways designed to make her feel small, and into the turbolift that rocketed her up to where the wolf-headed doors awaited.

Now she was here, being edged into the room by a pair of giant hulking guards. She barely dared to move in from the door, her back ramrod-straight from nerves, crossing her hands behind her back where she could feel her shoto safely stored. And the Emperor, his back to her, in almost the same pose but in all the military finery of a dictator...

was asking her what she saw? What was he getting at? Was he playing with her, or was this a genuine question?

Maybe it didn't matter. If this was a trap, then Na'an was already far too far in it for anything she actually said to matter. She might as well tell the truth, then--or at least some version of it.

“I see a room,” she said solemnly. “Simple, but with attention to detail. Clean lines. Not entirely without luxury, despite all the pretense. The books are uncommon, especially in such numbers, and I’m warm despite the high ceilings. Any art you have is...outside. Not for your own benefit, but for others. Whatever it depicts is not something you feel you need to see in your private moments.”

Whatever it depicts. As if Na’an hadn’t had a chance to see the frescoes up close while she was being marched down the halls of Wulfngard to this office. Scenes of slaughter, of Jedi with faces twisted with un-Jedi-like hate, of dead parents and dead children and wolf-eyed soldiers triumphing over all of them. The paintings had been too detailed, too grotesque to be mere fantasy. She closed her eyes for a moment, blocking the vision of them from her thoughts.

“I’m flanked by guards, although your summons requested a private interview. But I guess that means that in their way, they don’t entirely count. Not for someone in your position.”

She avoided talking about how large the guards were, and how their silence and the wolf pelts over their faces seemed just as deliberately chosen as the scale of the halls to emphasize how tiny she was. How tiny and alone, like a rabbit in winter. She kept her eye trained very deliberately forward, glancing over anything that would seem dangerous to mention.

Like the fact that the Emperor’s hands, clasped behind his back like hers, ended in claws.

“And...and the windows.”

She looked past the Emperor’s back, out into the landscape just beyond him. After the chain of blizzard after blizzard during last week’s hunt, this part of Kalidan was experiencing an odd clear day. Na’an could see for miles even with her eyepatch on, the edge of the city chasm giving way to mountains cast in inky greys and whites so bright they looked almost blue. The sun must be behind her for it to not be visible; in the daylight, the peaks cut so sharply against the sky that they didn’t seem entirely real.

“It’s beautiful out there, isn’t it,” she said simply, her silvery eye still fixed on that far horizon. “Although it’s not a beauty meant for humans. I can’t help but think that seeing it every day would feel like a constant reminder of how little any of us belong here. In a place this hostile to life.

But you don’t have any shades in here.”


 
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Abandoned pirate base, 43.4094 Latitude, -79.8617 Longitude, Abraxas, Abraxas System, Yushan Sector, Mid-Rim.


It had taken days. well -- days longer than he would have liked. The contract had been simple enough. Retrieve the spares and parts cache of the former 'TIE pirates,' catalogue, prep for shipment, and deliver to his contact on Terminus. The contract was worth 12,000, which was fine. Not a king's ransom. But enough to fuel the ship, and make repairs to the link-fire targeting system. With luck, Froz would know someone on Terminus that could do the job on the cheap. Maybe he'd be able to take on a passenger or two as well, heading somewhere worth four or five figures, long money, but easy flying. Passengers meant food in the galley, and answering questio--


Fel snapped back to the present when Wrench screeched at him via comms for the fourth time about the cargo container. “Yes, chrome dome... On top of that one. No, it's half the weight. Yes... I know you're overdue for your charge. Knock off after that one, and we'll scoop 'em. Yeah, c'mon up to the bridge once you're finished there.”


Switching off comms, knowing it would be at least a half hour before Wrench was finished with his task and they could finally power off for the day, Fel – restless with his work and bored of Abraxas after six days' staring at a featureless brown rock – flipped over to the 'net, and lazily searched his usual roster of affiliates and contacts, checking to see if there was any promising work in the sector, or nearby. He was sort-of a member of several smugglers guilds – sort of for missing dues here and there, and the occasional infraction... but nobody was counting, were they? In any case, he had access codes to a dozen or more work boards, and those in the know occasionally sent him jobs by wave, since his rep was good, even if his cash-flow wasn't. Such was the case with Froz, but 12,000 sounded better a week ago. Now, on the ass-end of the gig, it wasn't enough. Never was though.


Most of his usuals had nothing promising. Cargo. Cargo, with a not-so-well-hidden subtext of high-risk. Hot LZ's. Backwaters that would cost more in fuel than the offer. It took a degree in bullshit-detection to decipher the decent offerings from the trouble-wrapped-in-Credits postings. It made Fel tired all over, and he closed his eyes, leaned back on the creaky, stained chair on the bridge of the Dar'Yaim, and pinched at the bridge of his nose, as if that might make the idiocy disappear. When he opened his eyes once more, and allowed them to focus on the screen, there was a new message, from a friend-of-a-friend's friend... you know how it goes. The message was short, to the point, and mostly allowed the attached file to do the talking. Just how Fel liked it.


“Thought this might be up your alley. Trust No one. Service. Fealty. Fidelity. -Six.”

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The attached notice caught his attention, not least because he could see the trouble Six had to go through to get at it. Courier. Discretion. Payment. Life-or-Death. Sounded right. And if Six was willing to go to the trouble of finding him to send him the lead, it was certainly worth a look. He typed and encoded a quick reply.


“Thanks for thinking of an old friend. Next round at Scot's is on me. S.F.F. -Lead.”


He felt like a fraud signing off with the credo, and he rubbed at the barcode under his jacket sleeve, always there to remind him how it was, and how it could've been. He fired up the navacomp, and poked a few meandering coordinates in, fishing for a plot and a fuel estimate. Somewhat satisfied with his results, he chewed a nail while the computer thought about the consequences of the jumps, and whether they'd make it with reserves to spare. It wasn't long before Wrench wheeled into the 'pit, chirping about his charge. “you don't need my say-so to plug in. Are we squared away with the cargo containers?” The little droid whirred and bleated that yes, no thanks to him, they were ready to make way. “Good. Looks like we're heading to Lysenia, after squaring up with Froz.” The beat-up old R2 unit spat out a string of binary that's best left untranslated, and then proceded to make fun of the human for his inefficient, occasionally downright dangerous route calculations. “Yeah, but it'll get us there, right? Right? ...then good. I haven't lost my touch.” Wrench had a few choice words for that, at a muted volume that approximated 'under his breath.' “Hey – it isn't too late for you to get a memory wipe, Ass-Pain. Watch your language. Now fire up the converters and plug in, we're outta here.”


Fel flipped over the sequence of switches that lit the fires, and Wrench plugged into his astro-socket where the co-pilot's seat would have been, and only a few moments later, the Dar'Yaim was clamping onto the cargo containers they'd been working on for a week, and saying their goodbyes to Abraxas.

Vidalu Na'an Vidalu Na'an LE-03 (Leigh) LE-03 (Leigh) Eryn Eryn

(There's likely more I'm s'pposed to tag... but I can't figure out how.)
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CEC YT-1760 freighter Dar'Yaim ...In the Black, approaching the Moddell Sector, Unknown Region.


Of course. Of course Froz had withheld partial payment, for a short-list of things Fel had apparently not done (or more than likely, not done to Froz' liking. There was a distinction, though it was lost on Froz.) So, 7500 richer, Fel had paid the dock-master for as much fuel as he could afford, and had not paid the owner of the ship in the berth next door for the acquisition of several spares from her engine room. It seemed a fair trade. As long as there are no follow-up questions. Wrench had, of course, been vocal on the matter, which had almost blown up in the outlander's face. Damn that tin can. At least the cargo containers had been secured, and delivered, and were no longer his problem.


The swirl of hyperspace was like a warm embrace (or maybe that was the blanket Fel was wrapped up in, as he put his slicing skills to the test on the darkened bridge of the Dar'Yaim) and as they left Terminus behind, Fel set about sending a reply to the contractor, so that there'd be a positive response awaiting him on Lysenia, instead of the barrel of a blaster. It had taken the better part of five hours to figure out where to send a reply – the job posting itself had been easy enough to track down, but finding the source had been something else entirely. Galdaart was no slouch, regardless of what Wrench would say, but he wasn't as fast as the comp techs that spent their entire lives logged in, turned on, and sliced up.


Once he was certain he could send a reply to the source of the job posting, then came the uncertainty as to whether or not he should. Instead of addressing that, he spent time fine-tuning his encryption. Finally, as with so many of his choices since leaving the Navy, the ship made his decision for him. He was all in. The trip to Lysenia left him with literally no place else to go, and not enough resources to get there, even if he changed his mind. So be it. Go with your gut, Fel. He keyed in the response, and sent it.



“G.F. here – I understand you have need of a courier. I'm your guy. -break-
Keyphrase is 'Nobody likes Varonat... least of all the Morodin.' -break-
See you in six hours.”


He looked over the message for a brief moment, before hitting 'send,' and then curling up in the pilot's seat, and allowing the swirling blue of hyperspace to lull him to sleep...


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“G.F. here – I understand you have need of a courier. I'm your guy. -break-
Keyphrase is 'Nobody likes Varonat... least of all the Morodin.' -break-
See you in six hours.”

Hunched in her bunk in their quarters, LE-03 opened the response to her query and read it for the 14,073rd time, then cleared it from her dome. She had memorized the keyphrase this courier had given her almost instantly--the benefits of a digital mind, she knew, only began at perfect recall--but viewing the text gave her something to do while she waited for word from the Imperial docks.

The droid had this planned down to as close to perfectly as could be calculated using known mathematics. Upon the receipt of the response, she had advised her partner to accept the invitation for an interview with Kalidan's emperor, and make her way to his home on Wulfngard. With the time of transition between the two locations, an analysis of the city's docking regulations, and the timeframe given for the courier's, she could map out a narrow window of time where she could navigate the task she had planned without notice from either the Emperor or his closest advisors.

It was a risky move, she knew--one with a near-certain probability of her being decommissioned if uncovered too soon. If Na'an had pressed her on the details of this venture, she would likely have been just as wildly against it as she had initially been towards attending the interview.

Then again, her partner had not seen the transcript of their new Emperor's most recent grand speech. Given his plans for the Unknown Regions, the odds that they were going to have to make an escape from Kalidan sooner rather than later were...overwhelming. The more her partner would learn about this place, the worse those odds got. Adding in Healer Bastiel's opinion of both the Emperor and Empress Apparent only compounded the problem.

Therefore, her best move would be to ensure that they had a place to go when it was time to leave. And, as a droid on a planet where droids did not matter...

she was uniquely suited to do so.

She read the response for the 14,074th time, cleared it from her memory banks, then uploaded a map to the Kalidan ports. If she moved smoothly and efficiently, she could get there without attracting undue scrutiny from the guards. If she recruited Healer Bastiel on the way, she could make double-time.

 
Slow, fluid motions led into another set. Muscles controlled speed, power, ligaments and tendons controlled pose. Air gave life to her lungs, her blood, and that, in turn, gave life to her muscles and tendons. Gave life to her movements. She stepped into the next highly modified kata, trying to stay active in the Force without giving herself away. Non-Force sensitives would have even felt the darkness rolling off of the Emperor, even if they'd have called it another name. She didn't need to clue him in to her Jedi training. Not with Leigh and Na'an and herself living in the very heart of his Empire.

Footsteps in the hall cut her moving meditation short. Adelle quickly threw on a shirt and seated herself in her room's sole chair. By the time the person reached her door, she was heavily invested in reading the latest medical articles on her datapad. A knock on the door elicited mild surprise. Her surprise grew when she opened it to find Leigh standing in the hallway. After a second's hesitation, she stepped aside to let the droid in.

"What's going on?" she asked.



LE-03 (Leigh) LE-03 (Leigh)
 



The Emperor listened silently as the girl went from one thing to another, trying to find an answer to his question, searching for it in her immediate surroundings, the true meaning of his words eluding her grasp. Like many others, she failed to see the forest because she gave too much attention to the individual trees. "I see a galaxy on the brink of disaster," he spoke silently. "A galaxy blindly flailing around, atomized, concerned only with the wants and whims of the individuals, corrupted by the lie of easy things, rotten to the core and completely unprepared for the horrors that lie in waiting, just beyond the edges of its collective horizon."

Turning to face her, he regarded her with eyes burning with the righteous fire of unshakable conviction. "I see a galaxy in need of correction," the Sith Lord said. "And now that the Empire is ready to fulfill its purpose, people will no longer be allowed to behave like irresponsible, spoiled brats. From now on, people will be held accountable for their actions and for the consequences they bring to society."

Picking up a datapad from his desk, he skimmed through a few lines of text from a report before continuing. "But that is not why you're here. Tell me, what kind of girl takes down a Tyrant Dragon with a rope?" he asked her with the curiosity of a Loth Cat studying a mouse, his eyes glued to the report on the datapad. "Speak freely. My Wolfguards are the Empire's most trusted and loyal soldiers."

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Wanderer Lost, Wanderer Found
Location: Wulfngard | Kalidan, The Eternal Empire

"The kind of woman who wants to, I suppose."


So that was what this was about. The Empress Apparent must have made a fuss about her antics out in the wastelands; either that, or the Baron complained about her cussing him out so much. Na'an allowed herself to relax only a hair, still blisteringly aware of the guards behind her. Being told to speak freely around 'the Empire's most trusted and loyal soldiers' was hardly a comfort. After all, such loyalty meant he could order them to do anything to her, at any moment, depending on her response.
More comforting was the fact that despite his calling for her presence himself, the Eternal Emperor never really seemed to be looking at her. When his yellowed eyes were looking in her direction, they seemed more focused on something in the middle distance beyond her--his preached-of visions of being the galaxy's blood-fisted father figure, perhaps. It would fit with his choice to call her a 'girl' over anything else, as if she were some kind of errant child. Even when he was speaking about Na'an, he didn't deign to look up from the report at his desk. His voice dripped with the casual, bored curiosity of a predator that finds its prey only mildly interesting at best.

Her guess from before was probably right. It was unlikely that what Na'an said in this meeting would get her killed...as long as she didn't say anything the Emperor found openly treasonous.

"The brief that went out looking for hunters stated a bounty alive or dead," she continued, her voice surprisingly steady. She was getting used to the odd freedom that came with being considered too inferior to care about. "It would have been a shame to kill such beautiful animals just to make a few credits. Frankly, I'm surprised more people didn't think to try such methods."

 
Footsteps in the hall cut her moving meditation short. Adelle quickly threw on a shirt and seated herself in her room's sole chair. By the time the person reached her door, she was heavily invested in reading the latest medical articles on her datapad. A knock on the door elicited mild surprise. Her surprise grew when she opened it to find Leigh standing in the hallway. After a second's hesitation, she stepped aside to let the droid in.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Leigh did not enter the Healer's private quarters. "I have an appointment down at the docks," she said smoothly, activating her hologram. These days, her dome was more often than not entirely blank, to avoid attracting suspicion. Given the circumstances, however, she found what amounted to amusement in letting her rule slide today--if only for Miss Bastiel.
"It will be difficult to make good time on my own," she continued, "given the Palace's droid transit policies and my size. Having you along would be...efficient." She allowed her freckled face a rare half-smile. "In addition, I believe the purpose of my errand will be of some interest to you."
She stepped out of the doorway, holding out her arm to clear the path for Miss Bastiel in a common gesture for organics.

 
Adelle quirked her eyebrows but set aside the datapad and stood, grabbing a light jacket to throw over her rather casual attire.

"Color me intrigued," she said, passing Leigh out the door. She paused to lock her bedroom behind her: not that it'd stop any of the guards from getting in if they really wanted to but it might deter the more casually curious. "I take it this errand is too mundane to mention but I'd expedite the process should you run into trouble?"

She chose her words carefully, trying to sound conversational and bored with Leigh as she'd seen many of the Imperials do. If this had anything to do with what she thought it did, then talking about this like a chore would be sufficient cover. Knowing Leigh though, she'd already taken numerous steps to ensure their safety as well as their success.



LE-03 (Leigh) LE-03 (Leigh)
 
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Attn: Vidalu Na'an Vidalu Na'an


"Yes. Alive is preferrable to dead, even creatures such as these have their place in the natural order of things," he said. "More importantly, they are a valuable resource and all things considered, as are all living beings, therefore wantonly killing them when other options are available, is wasteful, unnecessary and serves no practical purposes. Unless sparing their lives would cause a greater number of deaths in the long run," the Sith Lord spoke.

Pausing to read some notes on his datapad, he weighed the options in his mind. The girl seemed impulsive, maybe even reckless at times, lacking the discipline of a proper soldier. Then again, few people outside Kalidan knew anything of true discipline. But she seemed a capable fighter and Vyra would need someone close to her, in this land that was so alien and unfamiliar to everything she knew.

"I have a proposal for you," he said, breaking the silence. "A job offer, if you are interested. Something more stable and permanent than bounties and Contractor work."

"You see, the galaxy is a dangerous place and the Empire has numerous enemies. As the future Empress, Vyra will need bodyguards. And while I have already assigned the Wolfguards to her security detail, I would like for her to have someone close whom she trusts, as a friend and not just a soldier. If you would accept this proposal, I would have you assigned to her security. The pay will be adequate, of course,"
he said, having made up his mind.

Reaching out to another datapad that sat on his desk, he pressed a few buttons, before handing it over to her, along with a credit chip. "Your reward, for the work with the dragons. And the employment contract, should you choose to accept. Just the usual terms, but take your time to read it."

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Wanderer Lost, Wanderer Found
"That isn't necessary, sir."

Leigh would have been proud of how calm she could stay, even after such an offer. This Emperor wanted to buy her for his bride-to-be--had named his price for her without even looking up. As if she were one of the dragons she'd captured for him, just some curiosity to bend to his will and make into another asset. Suddenly, she was regretting her little hunting trip down to the planet's surface--even if Leigh had said they needed the money.

Even if she'd needed to get out of the palace so badly she felt like screaming.

Those poor dragons.

"I'm already receiving payment as Lady Silara's servant via the Elanthaean government per her request," she continued evenly, her eyes never leaving the Emperor's hands. She had to word this carefully, carefully...if she outright rejected the offer, even she would be risking the Emperor's anger. But to bind herself to him officially? To become a willing member of his Empire, to take on his goals as her own, to swallow the roiling Dark Side that filled every inch of this place like oily fog...Leigh said they needed money for some reason, but there was no way she'd consider asking Na'an to go that far. "I do what she asks of me until she sees fit to send me away. I'm free to accept one-time assignments to make extra money, as long as she allows it, but wouldn't be right for me to accept an identical long-term contract for the same work, especially behind her back."

The deference due the Empress Apparent slipped from Na'an's mouth as naturally as it always had, even if the taste of it on her tongue has long since soured. She bent over the desk to place the datapad back down, and pocketed the chip as she turned the movement into a half-bow. "I appreciate the consideration, but I'm already doing what you're asking me to do."
 
"Color me intrigued," she said, passing Leigh out the door. She paused to lock her bedroom behind her: not that it'd stop any of the guards from getting in if they really wanted to but it might deter the more casually curious. "I take it this errand is too mundane to mention but I'd expedite the process should you run into trouble?"

"After a fashion. It would be more accurate to say that this is not an errand a typical droid should have the initiative to make on their own."

The droid said nothing more until they were on the tramway towards the docks. Based on public construction records of these trams, it would be impossible to fully monitor a system of moving tram cars and constantly shifting schedules. Between the sound of the tram machinery and the cover of other servants making their way to and from the palace, it was one of the few places in Kalidan where a being like Leigh could speak with comparative freedom. She took a seat next to Adelle Bastiel on the tram car, careful to modulate any audio processors that were not directly facing the Healer' ear.

Now, finally, she could let at least one of her humans in on what she had been planning all this time.

"You know as well as I do that remaining in Kalidan is impossible," she said, keeping her voice level to avoid changes in volume. "Our arrival here was under duress and based on incomplete information, and while I cannot sense the Force the motives of the Eternal Empire are unmistakeable. I have seen the recordings of recent events and accessed records of recent Imperial acquisitions, and I am certain within a reasonable margin that both you and Na'an are already aware that the longer we stay, the greater the danger is.

"The problem is that we are stuck here. Due to the circumstances of our arrival being our service to Lady Silara, we have no safe way to leave and nowhere safe to go once we do. This errand is the third step of my plan to rectify that. But for this plan to succeed, it is critical that I am never identified as its source."

She paused, tilting into Miss Bastiel slightly. "I apologize that I have hidden this from you until now. I would have preferred that such subterfuge not be necessary...but I do not intend to allow either of you to become victims of this Empire."
 
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Attn: Vidalu Na'an Vidalu Na'an


"You misunderstand," he said, a disinterested look in his cat-like eyes. "This wouldn't be done behind the future Empress' back, in fact I had invited her here for this discussion, however she was held up with other duties," the Sith Lord explained in his usual cold, business-like and professional tone.

"It seems to me that you do not understand how certain matters are done, around here, which is hardly surprising, given how recently you arrived. You see, in other parts of the galaxy, people have a tendency to offer charity and hospitality openly, but here..." he trailed off, his eyes drifting towards the bleak landscape outside the windows. "This is Kalidan, a world that is much more hostile than the... softer planets of the Core. Here, in order for society to function, or indeed, even survive, people are required to be more disciplined, more responsible."

"On this world, everyone must earn their keep and contribute to society. Maybe other planets afford their inhabitants a greater degree of flexibility, but here if even one man doesn't do his job, or does it poorly, people will die. Our society can not afford charity, because everyone, every single individual, must contribute to the wellbeing of the community, everyone must have a role to play and a function to perform. Kalidan demands of its society three things above all. Order, structure and discipline."

"And I, as the ruler of this world, am required to uphold certain standards, the very same standards that I require my people to adhere to, only more strictly. We can not have a society which has different sets of rules for different people, or which gives some preferential treatment over the others. So you see, I can not have you here in Wulfngard, on taxpayer money, without some job for you to perform. I can not ask my people to uphold the law, work diligently, pay their taxes and maintain the social order, only so that their tax money can be used to keep my future wife's friends living here for free. It sends the wrong kind of message and myself and Vyra must lead by example,"
Tacitus explained, eager to get this out of the way so that he may attend to his duties. There was a lot of work to be done today and his agenda was running on a strict schedule.

"When I had that contract written down, I was unaware of your existing employment situation, assuming you did not yet have a job, therefore I sought to rectify that problem. However, as you already have employment, then that is acceptable. Of course, you may continue to take on other tasks from the Contractors' Guild when your duties allow you to," he said while reading some report on his datapad about the tax revenue from one of the planet's settlements.

Setting the datapad aside, he turned his attention back to the girl. "I am sorry to have taken up your time, miss Vidalu Na'an, though I am glad to have had this conversation," he spoke, taking a few steps towards her and extending his hand. "Now, I am sure you have your own schedule to keep and I, unfortunately, have other matters to attend to. I trust that you will carry out your duties with the highest degree of dilligence."

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"After a fashion. It would be more accurate to say that this is not an errand a typical droid should have the initiative to make on their own."

The droid said nothing more until they were on the tramway towards the docks. Based on public construction records of these trams, it would be impossible to fully monitor a system of moving tram cars and constantly shifting schedules. Between the sound of the tram machinery and the cover of other servants making their way to and from the palace, it was one of the few places in Kalidan where a being like Leigh could speak with comparative freedom. She took a seat next to Adelle Bastiel on the tram car, careful to modulate any audio processors that were not directly facing the Healer' ear.

Now, finally, she could let at least one of her humans in on what she had been planning all this time.

"You know as well as I do that remaining in Kalidan is impossible," she said, keeping her voice level to avoid changes in volume. "Our arrival here was under duress and based on incomplete information, and while I cannot sense the Force the motives of the Eternal Empire are unmistakeable. I have seen the recordings of recent events and accessed records of recent Imperial acquisitions, and I am certain within a reasonable margin that both you and Na'an are already aware that the longer we stay, the greater the danger is.

"The problem is that were are stuck here. Due to the circumstances of our arrival being our service to Lady Silara, we have no safe way to leave and nowhere safe to go once we do. This errand is the third step of my plan to rectify that. But for this plan to succeed, it is critical that I am never identified as its source."

She paused, tilting into Miss Bastiel slightly. "I apologize that I have hidden this from you until now. I would have preferred that such subterfuge not be necessary...but I do not intend to allow either of you to become victims of this Empire."
Leigh had exceptional forethought. It shouldn't surprise Adelle, not after all this time and knowing Leigh's nature and origin. Adelle patted the droid's shoulder lightly, her smile tinged with sadness.

"Thank you Leigh," she said. "None of this should've been necessary. But I appreciate you looking out for us."

Quiet conversations between other passengers in the tram car would make their own much harder to track. The durasteel and transparisteel made little echos and creaks, loud enough to mingle with the voices but not so loud to be obnoxious. The amount of faces and droids these trams saw every day would make visual tracking hard. Leigh had chosen this route on purpose and Adelle couldn't say she wasn't impressed.

"How can I help with this errand?" she asked. A wry smile twisted the corner of her mouth. "And do I get to know this master plan?"



LE-03 (Leigh) LE-03 (Leigh)
 
This was exactly the response LE-03 had anticipated. Projecting a smile would have been too much of a risk--normal droids rarely emoted in such a way--but she allowed herself to infuse her voice with a measure of warmth. "We are on our way to the port to initiate a handoff of sorts. I have a contact on the outside that requires certain...materials, but given my disposition an organic proxy may be necessary for the courier to accept it."

Her hand tapped at a small port on her side; when a small datachip popped out, she pulled it out with two fingers and palmed it. "This contains access codes to several investment accounts I have set up, borrowing against yours and Na'an's bounties from your recent excursion out to hunt the local wildlife. It also contains an algorithm of my own design, using cracked Imperial security protocols as a starting point. Along with a message I have recorded, the algorithm is built to be packaged into a virulently aggressive comms spike, keyed into a highly-encrypted Holonet frequency.

"I believe you can deduce much of what I have done, and what I intend to do, knowing that much."

She reached for Miss Bastiel's hand as if to hold it, letting the chip slide from one palm to the next.

 
Wanderer Lost, Wanderer Found
Na'an fought to continue keeping her face carefully blank. Never mind reacting to the fact that apparently Vyra knew about this in advance as well, and hadn't said anything--that kind of tiny betrayal should have ceased to be a surprise when it came to the Empress Apparent. All she could focus on was getting through what the Emperor was saying.
Although he wasn't speaking to her, not really. The Emperor's cool, paternalistic tone was that of a speech so long internalized it required almost no thought to reel off. It was all there: the hallmark of espousing his society's superiority, his demands of that society as its ruler under the guise of it demanding the same of him, the open assumption that she was simply one of "his future wife's friends" freeloading off his goodwill rather than a captive in all but name...

It did make one thing remarkably obvious: The Eternal Emperor's offer was not really about recognizing her efforts in any way. He just didn't want one of his lover's loose ends reflecting badly on him.

If Na'an had thought anything good about him after Bakura, she might have almost been disappointed.

Fortunately, learning that she was already on a payroll rather than some kind of sponge seemed to appease him. Na'an watched as he rounded the desk, offering her a clawed hand to formally conclude their business. Na'an reached for it, already mouthing some nicety, grateful that the only thing between her and leaving this room was a simple handshake. His hand was so much larger than her own; she could see his fingers wrapped all the way around her palm--his thumb laying carefully across the meat at the base of her thumb--

And then the Force passed through the room like summer lightning.

Na'an pulled her hand free from the Emperor's so fast that his claws left cuts on the back of her palm.
 
This was exactly the response LE-03 had anticipated. Projecting a smile would have been too much of a risk--normal droids rarely emoted in such a way--but she allowed herself to infuse her voice with a measure of warmth. "We are on our way to the port to initiate a handoff of sorts. I have a contact on the outside that requires certain...materials, but given my disposition an organic proxy may be necessary for the courier to accept it."

Her hand tapped at a small port on her side; when a small datachip popped out, she pulled it out with two fingers and palmed it. "This contains access codes to several investment accounts I have set up, borrowing against yours and Na'an's bounties from your recent excursion out to hunt the local wildlife. It also contains an algorithm of my own design, using cracked Imperial security protocols as a starting point. Along with a message I have recorded, the algorithm is built to be packaged into a virulently aggressive comms spike, keyed into a highly-encrypted Holonet frequency.

"I believe you can deduce much of what I have done, and what I intend to do, knowing that much."

She reached for Miss Bastiel's hand as if to hold it, letting the chip slide from one palm to the next.

Adelle clasped Leigh's articulated hand and placed her other hand on top. She could feel the datachip pressing into her palm--and the curious, disapproving glances of other passengers on the back of her neck. "You've always been there to take care of us, LE. Your faithful service is appreciated."

The datachip disappeared as she shoved her left hand into a pocket, leaning more casually towards Leigh and dropping her voice to a lower volume. It shouldn't be hard for the droid to still hear her but it'd keep curious passengers from eavesdropping.

"I can very well guess. You realize once this kicks off, Na'an will get involved somehow. She ought to know beforehand." Adelle paused, realizing how stupid she must sound to Leigh. "You've already thought of that though."

Come to think of it, Leigh's forethought probably extended further than that. "I can guess you're also counting on my involvement from now on, knowing my nature and past behavior. An extension of your will when you can't go certain places. A wea--"

The word sat on her tongue like bitter medicine. It didn't seem very long ago that someone else was telling her she was a weapon, with someone else pulling the trigger. And now she was offering herself up for the same position. But Leigh wasn't Krayt. Leigh, she could trust. Somehow, it still didn't make her feel any better.

"A weapon for you to use," she finished hoarsely.



LE-03 (Leigh) LE-03 (Leigh)
 
"A partner, more like."

Leigh looked out the tram window rather than at Miss Bastiel. Her human had grasped the broad strokes of her plan, but was drawing her own conclusions about her role in them. Those conclusions were clearly causing an adverse affect on her psychologically.

She should have found a way to discuss this with her before the dragon hunt.

"I know the timing of this disclosure is not ideal, but everything about this plan is gambling on probabilities. All three of us are in danger here, even if we do nothing--that being said, I do not wish to add to that danger without your consent. Whether we pull the trigger on this handoff, I will leave up to you."

The tram was pulling to a stop just outside of the port; from the station, it would be a short walk to where the smuggler had estimated he would make his landing. Their handoff would have to be close to that position, or not at all.

"A weapon is an acceptable loss. You are not."


 

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