Progflaw99
Well-Known Member
Many a young maid lost her baubles to my trade
Many a soldier shed his lifeblood on my blade
The bastards hung me in the spring of twenty-five
But I am still alive
~ The Highwayman
The pitter patter of feet slapping across the pristine white floors echoed throughout the skyway system interconnecting some of the largest structures at the center of Muracie. The Capital City of Centares, Muracie had become something of a 'last stop' on the way from the Core into the Outer Rim - a final splash of civilization before often wild and dangerous space. Situated along the Perlemian Trade Route, Centares saw a fair amount of travel, raw materials and more exotic wares headed towards the Core, luxury items and equipment headed out towards the Outer Rim. As such, a wide variety of species called Centares and the other populated planet in system - Nizon. This early in the morning the skyways were near empty, the echoing noises hardly causing a glance here or there as people moved about towards their place of employment - curious as to what would drive someone to run through the corridors but little more. The runner, a young man in his early twenties, hair swept back as a slick glean of perspiration formed on his forehead. As he traveled, his breaths became labored, but his speed refused to decrease - he was a man on a mission. As his footsteps brought him towards the Capitol Building, he slowed finally, jumping into a turbolift. With a scan of a badge the doors closed behind him and the courier was whisked to the uppermost floor. Upon exiting, he gave a simple nod at the receptionist behind the desk flashing his badge once more as he came to a brief halt in front of a pair of ornate, gilded doors and tried to catch his breath.
Just beyond, the Mara-Perlemian Trade Council - the Council. By all appearances he was about to interrupt a meeting, it couldn't be helped. Besides, the Council themselves had said they wanted to be notified immediately hadn't they? It didn't make the young man feel any better. A hushed whisper preceded a raised voice in his direction.
"The Council will see you now."
That was it, and a nod from the woman behind the desk. A quiet hum filled the man's ears as the doors slowly retracted into the wall, the view of the room widening enough to see every one of the Councilors present, the Chairman - Olivander Cardiff - seated squarely at the head of the large conference table. His breath almost caught in his throat, but the courier managed to take a deep breath before stepping inside. As he did so, his eyes traced the room from right to left, mentally checking off each member of the council and silently saying their names. As he confirmed they were indeed all present, he took one final step before bowing low. As he stood straight, he began speaking. "Ladies, Gentlemen, please excuse my intrusion. You asked to be notified should any more vessels go missing along the Perlemian Trade Route - specifically in Trade Council space. It's happened again, this time to one of our shipments. It seems whomever is making the ships disappear have gotten bold enough to hit even government contracted shipping crews." He cleared his throat, stepping next to the open end of the table and reaching into the satchel. "Here.." he said, placing a small circular device down. "..You can see the projected flight plan of a bulk freighter named "The Pigeon's Prodigy" and a red blip where it seemed to have stopped transmitting."
As he spoke the device came to life, an almost ethereal glow emanating from it as a three dimensional display of the vessel's projected flight path flicked into view. "As you might know, that brings the total missing ship list to 43. The Commanders and Generals are getting antsy - They want to see action by this Council to secure the trade lane against what is assumed to be Pirates. The media hasn't yet got a hold of the story but I imagine they'll be right behind me - I only know because of a guy I met..." He looked around, catching himself. "It doesn't really matter - but what does matter is that we're rapidly approaching a precipice, and if we don't act soon... I fear we will lose confidence that was so hard fought to get to this point. Begging your pardon."With another bow, the young man took a step back, waiting on what would be said. He knew he'd overstepped - in fact he'd probably just secured his termination along with a mandatory assignment to some other menial task within the Capitol building, but what happened next surprised him. Silence had gripped the representatives seated around the table, their eyes now boring a most uncomfortable spot on his forehead. A deep voice broke the silence, the aged man at the head of the table smiling gently.
"Dear boy, you needn't worry - you are correct, it was we who asked to be notified."
He trailed off momentarily, eyes looking around the table at the other members of the council. In particular, his eyes lingered on the form of Eris Volcata, Councilor from the planet New Holstice - her reaction to the intrusion he was curious to see. Resuming his line of thought, he continued."The boy is right you know. We can't rightly seek to proclaim ourselves the governors of the Trade Council worlds and neglect the very defense of the hyperlanes used to travel and trade between ours and others." A knowing gaze fell upon the boy then, his attention returning to his humbled figure once more however briefly. "Leave us - we will summon you should you be needed again. And thank you." In a moment, the young man turned on his heel, the device left humming quietly at the end of the table. As he exited the room the doors shut gently behind him, and then the deliberation began. The evidence was clear, the facts undeniable, and now all that was left was to decide exactly how they would respond.
"Executor Volcata..." Chairman Cardiff's voice boomed. "...What would you have us do?"