Private Family Bonding: Galahad

[The Battalion]

Arianna only frowned as Galahad Io gave his explanation.

"You have a recording of Morris Crownwraithe?" The Countess asked in deep surprise. "Galahad I assure you, I did not make that donation. If I had a recording of my daughter's biological father, sharing it with her would have been the first thing I did."

"So you're saying you had absolutely nothing to do with this?" The Assembly asked.

"Lucinda, I give you my word, I have no idea whats going on. But Xiphos will need to be informed immediately." The Countess said. "As soon as possible, you are to bring that Datacron to Mammon's Palace. We'll sort all this out soon enough."

Arianna turned to Galahad. "Ohhhhh, you look so handsome!" she gushed before cutting the feed.

The Assembly was now very confused. But it didn't matter. Elaine had gotten her emotions back under control.

"Bye for now, Galahad." The Assembly said, flesh melting and warping hidiously back to that of The Battalion.

"We're going to the security feeds. No choice now..." The Battalion remarked, heading back over to the front desk. "Galahad, while I go over the recordings, could you please ask the desk clerk how the list could report Arianna making the donation..."

 

[Dev Ossian]

Arianna’s surprised reaction to the news deflated any hopes Galahad had that this mystery would be solved through simple and quick means. If she didn’t know what was going on, and someone else had made the donation in her name, they were back at square one.

“If you would be so kind as to inform Mother of the situation, we will bring the datacron over as soon as possible,” he replied, offering a small smile and bow of the head in response to her compliment on his looks.

When he turned to face Lucinda, he found she was already melting back into the Battalion… or Elaine, as Lucinda had called her.

“Of course,” he replied, heading for the clerk. “Arianna Belasko claims she did not make the donation,” he said, speaking to the Chiss in a low voice. “How is that possible? Were the records hacked?”

He supposed it could have been a shapeshifter—many within the Cult were Shi’ido, a changeling species capable of taking on nearly any form at will. A few Neutralizers also had the ability to modify their appearance, though he supposed it would be harder for them to pull off, given the high levels of security in the archives and the trouble they would have to go through to trick the scanners, for instance.

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

As The Battalion headed to the security section, all Organic Citizens cleared out of the red robed woman's path, her haughty gait showing in the sway of her hips. David The Model 1, unpainted unlike almost all of his brothers, stopped, having never gotten up close and personal to his Mother's Wife, which made him slow down a moment to observe her, his databases memorizing everything.

The Battalion stopped, having heard of the famous Model 1 who had literally come back from the dead.

"David. I don't believe I've had the pleasure." The Battalion said in a polite tone, stopping. She observed a book the murderous Skeleton-Droid possessed. It was titled Blood Poets.

"Noir Detective Fiction?" The Battalion asked, intrigued.

"I'm a fan." David answered neutrally. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure, Consort."

"We have not..." The Battalion said, holding out her hand. David took the hand, skeletal hand shaking magical flesh.

"You are an example to every Nuetralizer, David." The Battalion complimented. "And not only that, a testament to the longevity of your design."

"Thank you, Consort." David replied.

"I cold use your help, in fact." The Battalion said. "I need quick access to the security systems. Mor importantly, I need you to check for signs of tampering with the security feed."

"At once, Consort." David replied.

The skeletal war droid followed the ceremonial garbed Sorceress into the security room, none dared to challenge her right to be in there, as now she had evidence of possible foul play.

She was never anything less than polite however.

"Pardon the intrusion my fellow citizens, I just need to check something. I suspect your records have been hacked." The Battalion explained, deciding she would use the authority that warrant granted as justification.

At worst, she'd submit to a disciplinary hearing.

She approached an attendant.

"Citizen, I request access to all security recordings related to today." she said in a polite manner. "I request under the authority of an approved search warrnt to discovery the identity of the individual who submitted special interest data in an unauthoriazed manner."

The Attendant, a Chiss, like many of the Chiss refugees who came to House Io, seeking niches in intelligence and record keeping, or farming the harsh snowscape of Khemostian wilds.

"At once, Consort." replied the female, mousy looking blue skinned woman, "May I see a copy of the warrant? It's procedure."

The Battalion sighed. Xiphos did so take her laws seriously. She turned to David. "Stepson, would you be a dear and retrieve the printed copy of the warrant in question?"

"Of course, Consort." David complied, turning to head to the front desk.

Meanwhile...

"I don't know how its possible, Galahad..." the Desk Clerk answered Galahad Io . "The Security system and this desk are all occupied constantly. The only time they are not occupied is during shift change. And there is no Holonet access to prevent slicing attacks from outside--someone wants to screw with the system, physical penetration of security would be required--"

"Hey!" David called out, walking up to the desk. "The Consort needs a copy of the Warrant."

The Clerk handed David the copy that had just finished printing and he glanced at Galahad.

"Brother! You seem to be having a weird day."



Galahad Io

 

[Dev Ossian]

Galahad’s theory about an impostor was beginning to look more and more likely. “Can you trace the date and time of the entry, corroborate it with a shift change? Or find whoever was on duty at the time it was recorded?...”

He trailed off as he was approached by an older model of Neutralizer, one of the skeletal types. Galahad instantly identified him as David, and watched as the droid took a paper copy of a warrant ordered by the Battalion.

“Indeed,” Galahad muttered. “But I haven’t given up on finding answers just yet.” He glanced back at the clerk, awaiting a response to his requests.

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

The Clerk began searching her records. Her frown deepened.

"There's...what the hell, there's no irregularities..."

"Pardon me, may I?" David asked.

The Clerk stepped aside. You could tell she was new, because she suppressed a look of disquiet at how Organic The Model 1's movements were. That was one of the single strangest things that separated Mechanical from Organic Nuetralizers: The Skeletal Models were inhuman looking yet moved the most like an ordinary person. The Organics could fool you even up close were it not for their over-precise fluidity in their running and walking.

"Thanks so much..." he said, slicing into the network with his built in wireless Droid Source Ripper, holding a hand over the device not because he had to, but because it was ingrained after watching his mother do the same while using the Force to alter a simple computer's programming long ago.

David, as he searched the code, recalled the moment he first woke up for some reason...

[Begin Playback]

Slightly more than a decade ago.

Day of The Nuetralizer's Activation...


The first two Nuetralizers, 001 and 002 had been awake for weeks before this moment, about to take place within a hidden compound on Dantooine, where the Sith Empire had pushed back the NIO, and where Laertia had cemented her reputation as a Jedi Killer and in full rebellion against the Order's decision to fight the Sith first.

Dantooine had been her cradle, where her Destiny had been set in motion. So it would be for her children.

("Night on Bald Mountain" by Leonard Bernstien Plays)

The machines provided by certain people in certain corporations sympathetic to her aim of completely destroying The Bryn'adul not just as a military force, but as a species, churned out her metallic, skeletal children endlessly. She watched from the shadows on a catwalk above the assembly line, contemplating the question of whether or not making children you know you will send out to die is equivalent to the pain of actual childbirth.

The metal was Cortosis weave durasteel, and Laminanium Machine Blood Nanites and top notch miniaturized electronics for processors. Much of the design process had been coached by Nine Lives, but a great amount had been all Laertia.

Magnificent gleaming skeletons rolled off the assembly line, their thought patterns based off dying victims of the Bryn'adul who had consented to have their brain scanned as they died to "record" their intense hatred of the species that robbed them of everything. Each of her children would forever be born with this hatred, this instinctual drive to exterminate the Bryn'adul at almost any cost. She would share in their triumphs and defeats...

She would have her army.

But more than that...

...she was a Mother now.

The YVH Droid had served as a basis. After all, they had been created to kill Vong Warriors, and there was a great deal of similarity in the Vong's modus operandi, and the Bryn.

Some would later question her decision to stick so closely to the original design. Just like the YVH Droid, its skull like appearance was incredibly creepy. Why give her children, her own firstborn, the faces of Demons?

Laertia would always answer "So that their enemies will forever appreciate the fact they can kill them if they tick them off...and that they might also forever appreciate the fact they WILL kill them if I deem it necessary."

Yeah, Laertia was a fethin' riot at parties. Especially the Sith ones. Just an ABSOLUTE COURT JESTER.

They had all been placed in a dark, amphitheater like chamber, where the sound could carry. Each Model 1 was upright, photoreceptors shut off. David was right near the center, inactive, inert.

Unthinking.

A looming shadow walked to the center of the room, and all that sinister-as-hell OOC music suddenly ceased.

The spotlight from above tuned on, and Laertia Io stood at the center, wearing her spiky black biker leathers.

She had decided how best to awaken them. They would awaken at the sound of her voice, but she had warred with herself over what the first thing she would say to her children was. "Hello" seemed too trite. "Mommy's here." too sappy.

Then she decided she would simply sing them awake. And she would do it using a song she had heard Amy singing due to her insanity granting her Fourth Wall Awareness. She had preprogrammed the lyrics into them so they would be able to jump in depending on who she pointed at.

The Orchestral music started, and Laertia was in front of a microphone, swaying a bit before she started belting out the Lyrics.

"I've got yooooooooouuuuuuuu unnnnnder-my-skin...I've got yooooooouuuuu deep-in-the-heart-of-me...

Red Photoreceptors flickered on around her all at once. 007 saw flashes of things as Mother's voice filtered into his audioreceptors.

Images of killing, diagnostics of rifles, file boot up. Random stuff as his brain activated. Then his eyes focused on her. On Laertia.

"THE NUETRALIZER HAS ENTERED THE DANCE FLOOR!" he shouted reflexively with the rest of his brothers.

"Soooo deep-in-my-heart-that you're realllly a part of meeeeeeeee...I've got youuuuuuu unnnnder-my-skin..."

007 did not understand it in the first few moments, then his databases realized he was being sung to. The first thing he ever heard was mother singing to him.

Not the cold order to do a diagnostic check. Not the announcement of her command over them. Not the proclimation they would go forth and kill in her name. They already knew they were going to do that.

But being sung to...

007 hung on every sweet word, and so did the other machines, a sense of self starting to develop. An idea they could be a 'me' rather than a a bucket with legs, sent to die.

He felt...inspired. He didn't know why.

007, to his surprise, felt emotion building in an organic-like mind, yet with no way to really express the wonderful things he felt hearing his Mother sing to him. He felt re-assured. Like it was all according to plan.

"I-tried-soooooooo-not-to-give-in...I-said-to-myself 'This affair...never-will-go-so-wellllllll...." Laertia sang, watching some of the robots start to tap their foot with the music.

She pointed to one of the two Nuetralizers standing next to her, the one labled 001.

"Son, what name shall you be addressed by?"

001 paused a moment. He had been especially busy killing people, and had gotten a taste for it, as Laertia intended.

"I shall go by the name Isacc!" Isacc proclaimed. "And the best advice I can give to you, my wonderful brothers, is CUT OFF THEIR LIMBS!"

"Whose limbs?" came the innocent question of one Model 1 in the back, sheepishly raising his hand.

"Anybody trying to kill you!" Isacc elaborated. "Use a CHAINSAW."

"CHAINSAW! CHAINSAW! OUR KINGDOMS FOR A CHAINSAW!" they shouted back.

Laertia pointed to 002.

"And you my son? What shall I call you?" Laertia asked.

"Martin!" Martin declared, looking at his gathered brothers. "And the best advice I can give you, my wonderful brothers, is kill 'em close enough to feel their last breath on your face!"

"But we can't feel anything..." that same Nuetralizer in the back pointed out.

"It's metaphorical. Don't worry, once you've been active long enough, such exaggerations will come to you easily!" Martin replied jovially.

"What about heated knives!? Can I kill people with heated knives?" the Nuetralizer in the back asked again.

"Why of course, Son!" Laertia confirmed.

"Cool!" he exclaimed.

Laertia pointed at Isacc. He knew that was his cue.

"But-why-should-I-try-to-resist-when-baby-I-knowwwwww soooooo welllllll..." Isacc crooned.

Laertia pointed at Martin.

"I've got yooooooooouuuuuu unnnnnnnder-my-skin..." Martin chimed.

Laertia's finger pointed at 003, who would later take the designation 'Hudson'.

"I'd sac-ri-fice-any-thing, come-what-might, for-the-sake-offffff, havin'-you-neeeeeaaaaaaaarrr...."

Upon a finger falling on 004, who would name himself Gerard, he belted out, in perfect sync "In-spite-of-a-warrrrning-voice, that-comes-in-the-night-and-repeats, re-peats-in-my-eaaaaaarrrrrrrr...."

A finger upon 005, soon to be Mark.

"Do-you-know, little fooooooooooollllll, you-never-can-win...why-not-uuuuuuussssse youuuuurrrrr men-tal-ity...."

The finger swung to 006, who would become a Nuetralizer Pilot named Jack.

(Cutaway of the Joker frying that mob boss in Batman '89)

"...wake-up-tooooooo reeeeal-ity..."

The finger fell on 007, soon to be David.

"But-each-time-that-I-do-just-the-thought-of youuuuuu makes-me-stop just before I begin!" 007 belted out.

"...'cause I've got yooooooouuuuu un-der-my-skin..." Laertia finished.

All the robots joined in for the next part of the song.

[End Playback]

"Ahhh...there it is...old military trick masking a sleeper virus into manual updates. Somebody fiddled with the system alright, but they likely did it through a manual update to the servers themselves, via a portable drive disguised as something approved for the Library's use. Probably tricked your staff into doing it for them, without being the wiser. But that meant they were prepping this for weeks, especially if they wanted a chance at OUR firewalls ignoring them. Its been likely subtly altering your records for...eh, about a week..."

David turned to Galahad Io . "We should go to the Consort at once."

 

[Dev Ossian]

Galahad’s mouth fell open at the news. It was difficult to surprise him, but the revelation that a virus had been in the system for a week, and that they had been tricked into introducing it into the system, was far more insidious than he had expected.

The question remained: who was responsible, and what were they hoping to achieve?

“Of course,” he replied immediately, already heading off to find the Battalion. “Let’s go.”

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

The Battalion waited patiently while David and Galahad Io arrived in the security section with the warrant.

"We have a virus in our systems..." David explained, handing her the warrant so she could search the security records.

The Battalion expressed surprise and no small amount of alarm at this with but a raised eyebrow. Taking the warrant immediately, she began searching the camera systems, David using his source ripper to comb through them at the same time.

"Stop." The Model 1 said on a particular camera recording, which showed one of the staff walking near a restricted section of the records, which held the donated records.

It showed one image of what looked to be a hooded Countess Belasko in a blue gown dropping off the Crownwraithe datacron...and then David enhanced the image, using the processing power of the server to boost his effort.

The image of Countess Belasko frazzled, revealing flickering to the image of her.

David made further corrections and alterations, filtering out the holographic disguise to reveal a Colicoid Infiltrator.

"There's your break in..." David said.

"Well done David." The Battalion praised, copying the recording.

"The Spy Droidekas...had a few run ins with those the past, with my sisters. Nasty types. Even the Advanced Models get nervous around 'em." David remarked. "They're extremely dangerous."

"We're going to Countess Belasko immediately..." The Battalion said. "Get whatever you need and I'll fly us to her."

 

[Dev Ossian]

“A droid wearing a holographic disguise suite,” Galahad mused aloud as they watched the security footage. “Clever.”

He retrieved his datapad and followed the Battalion out.

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

The Battallion had said little as they entered her TIE Reaper. She suddenly wished she had come in a different ship, fearing Galahad would start to recall the last time he had gone on a trip with her in this vessel. Oh well, live and learn.

She surreptitiously stole a glance at Galahad as she piloted to Darth Mammon's Palace. She knew there could be no quelling his curiosity now. Morris...

Morris had always been a mystery to her.

She dreaded when the subject of how he became who he was would come up. She knew their former Matriarch steered as far from the Cult as possible, and knew Arianna was not particularly fond of the fact Xiphos had wanted The Battalion, of all people, behind closed doors. (According to the rumors she heard, even Arianna had found this a bridge too far and directly asked Xiphos if she was insane. Xiphos had apparently answered with a 'maybe'.)

According to the rumor anyway. The Battalion realized in that instant Xiphos had to have cleared it with Themis, who had more reason than most in House Io to hate The Cult. Galahad and his Brothers likely were not aware...Xiphos after all, had never fully elaborated on certain parts of her history with with Themis and Arianna in public, nor how they had come to their curious arrangements. They knew The Amalgam had been Xiphos' homicidal psychopath of a Master, who had tricked her into a twisted parody of Jedi training, but that was it. Themis always worked in the background, especially now, so deep behind cover in Essonian space.

The Battalion, ironically, had become the face people in the House associated with the Cult even more than The Amalgam. It was an Irony, really. The Amalgam planned the more sensitive operations. The Battalion had largely been the muscle. An Enforcer.

It was part of why Xiphos had fallen in love with her. Too much did she see the kind of work the Battalion did, as similar to what she had done as a Jedi Shadow (And little wonder, for she had basically been given a primer on Cultist Blademaster training).

She landed on a landing pad and Countess Belasko was already waiting. She looked impeccable as always, a standout amongst the rough and tumble citizenry for her gorgeous looks. But the Citizens had quickly picked up on the fact she was as lethal as any of the Cultists, to the point even Phyre didn't seem keen on crossing her unless left with no choice. No Cultist was ever seen near areas under her governance.

To this day, The Battalion wondered just what it was Xiphos had done to melt the cold, psychopathic heart of Arianna Belasko.

(Cutaway of J Jonah Jameson laughing uncontrollably)

Arianna glided forward in the cold air, as white as the snow falling on her robe, a pale, etherial glare seeming to eminate from her.

"Consort..." Arianna said stiffly, but respectfully.

"Countess..." The red robed Witch replied in just as strained but still formal address.

Arianna's eyes fell on Galahad.

"Grandson!" she said joyously, patting him on the shoulder. "Awww, you're even more adorable upclose!"

"Countess, you're gonna give him diabetes with all the sugar you're spewing." The Battalion said snarkily, inwardly hiding her jealousy that Arianna could get closer to him, comfort him in a way it was impossible to do for her.

She hated that.

Arianna's sharp blue gaze fell upon the Datacron.

"Morris Crownwraithe..." she said quietly. "Judger of the Tyrants of Meniliss 7. Instigator of the Raid on Darth Voler's Estate. Personally rescued over a thousand trapped miners on Kubaz. Nearly died stopping the surface of Csilla from being Annihilated with Baradium Bombs. Specialized in Hostage Rescue. Detested inflicting casualties."

Arianna paused thoughtfully.

"He sure as hell was no diplomat though..." she remarked, seemingly bemused by something before turning to Galahad Io

"Tell me everything."

 

[Dev Ossian]

Galahad watched as Elaine and Arianna exchanged tense greetings. He had been unaware of the friction between them, and was surprised to see it now. The public image of them certainly didn’t match up to the reality of their relationship.

But as long as the animosity wasn’t so great as to cause problems, he didn’t concern himself with their personal issues. “Grandmother,” he said, bowing slightly. “The security footage showed that a droid disguised as you broke into the archives…”

He regaled her with all the details of the story and what little information they knew about the culprit and the virus it had used to infiltrate their records. Once the tale was finished, he cut straight to the chase.

“Now, Grandmother, I’d like for you to tell me everything. Did you know Morris Crownwraithe personally? And do you have any idea who might have commissioned the droid to impersonate you and donate this datacron?” Perhaps she would think he was being impertinent, but Galahad didn't play when it came to information. He was a librarian, after all. Information was his business.

The Battalion​

 

[Arianna Belasko]

Arianna sighed. "I haven't the foggiest idea about the Droid unfortunately. That was always more your mothers department."

"Walk with me..." The Countess requested, striding into the palace. The Battalion noticed a jagged moon symbol on one door, meaning the citizen or citizens behind it worshipped the Brain Demon. The carpet around the door had very little foot traffic evidence, and with good reason.

An image of The Amalgam popped up on a holographic display, clad in that usualy off white flesh colored catsuit, in contrast to the rest of the Cultists.

"This is a Public Service Announcement from your handy dandy Amalgam, giving you your daily reminder not to give pens OR Pencils to Brain Demon Cultists. No Scissors or Paperclips. If one of us offers you something, refuse it, in a timely, and polite manner (A nice Chianti: 90 XP)...unless you're feeling frisky! In which case, go right ahead--!"

The announcement shut off in that instant, and Arianna AND The Battalion rolled their eyes.

"You musta been feelin' frisky I guess." she joked quietly to Galahad, awkwardly trying to break the silence.

It was soon really ended when Arianna began to speak.

"I suppose your 'other' question...has many answers. But really only one is truly pertinent..."

Arianna entered her lavish study, decked with old expensive paintings,

"I was not always Force Sensitive. One time...I was...little more than a vain socialite in over her head. Oh, I did all the typical things wealthy people are prone to in their fit of pique. I did Philanthropy and such. Charity. I made sure to have my gorgeous face plastered across Theed as I made sure to be a Patron to the Jedi Order in their time of crisis, providing them...anything, really. I could have anything I wanted. Any one, I wanted. Or so I believed..."

Arianna sat down on a comfy couch embossed with gold.

"I was an associate of his, in the days before my...deviancy...He and I...we operated a network to supply and funnel funds to the Jedi, provide them with safe hiding spots. We operated in this manner for four years, and the network was effective. And me, being a very silly twenty two year old, I made the classic mistake of falling for the strong, silent type--"

(Cutaway of Nathan Bloodscrawl sitting by an elegant fireplace)

(Nathan (Terse Voice, Not smiling): The fact I look like Jensen Ackles helped a whole bunch.)

(Nathan (takes a glowering look) :..unfortunately...)

"If you've seen anything of Morris, you'd know he's...not exactly Mister Personable. Some archaic method of Jedi Training that reduced the intensity of his emotions, at severe cost to himself, I later learned. But when someone is that hot...well...one does make exceptions..." Arianna confessed. "And he was intelligent. Plus, he had a Haysian Smelt reputation as an expert in Hostage Rescue. By the book where it counted. Also he was the only personal friend I had that I knew could and did kill people. But I had...misinterpreted the nature of our association..."

Arianna winced, feeling the old pride swell. The indignation at the rejection. The insane indignation at being jilted that had led to a downward spiral.

"I thought I was an obvious catch...he...felt differently..."

Gulag Era.

"Its lovely, isn't it?" Alexandra Victoria Arianna Belasko asked in a magnificent white gown that showed a lot of shoulder and leg as she stared at the moon from the privacy of her palace balcony on Naboo.

She had picked her best jewelry. Her best stilettos. Her best lipstick. She had chosen to throw her lavish party (Which would hopefully end with her walking down the stairway with Morris, announcing their engagement.)

Morris Crownwraithe, clad in black biker clothes, stared out across the landscape, his expression stony. He wasn't even looking at the moon. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He very slightly craned his head to her, in an almost mechanical fashion.

"Moonlight has never elicited that reaction in me..." Morris admitted brusquely, then turned back to stare at the landscape.

Arianna sighed.

"What are you staring at?"

"Those fields beyond..." Morris said. "They...remind me of something."

The Countess grew intrigued. "A pleasant reminder, I hope."

(Cutaway of Nathan Bloodscrawl at age 14 stumbling through the Nightingale Plains covered in blood, with his eyes burned out.)

"No." Morris replied, and he didn't bother elaborating further.

"I heard about your recent actions against Pirates on the Hydian Way. How did you avoid killing any?" The Countess asked, deflated slightly, but still boundlessly enthusiastic.

"Patience."

"Awful lot of patience. I heard they were dropping mortar fire on your position."

"They were. I didn't stay still."

"It's fortunate you were not harmed." The Countess added. "I would hate to see you injured."

Another nigh-mechanical swivel of his head in her direction.

"Thank you." he said politely, though he didn't smile, as usual. A second later, he stared at the plains of Naboo with a distant, thousand parsec gaze.

"Must you be so 'cold'? All the time?" The Countess asked, slinking towards him.

"Cold? Me?" he asked, not looking at her. "I'm not cold, Countess Belasko. I just keep most of the warmth for myself."

"I don't suppose you could spare any for me?"

Morris looked at her, not comprehending.

"Why?" Morris asked flatly, cybernetic green eyes narrowing.

"What do you mean, 'why'?" Arianna exclaimed (Judgement Day: 90 XP) "We have created something very formidable in this era of plague. I shared your vision of Jedi still being able to do their job."

"And that vision is appreciated immensely. Its why I show up to your ceremonies when invited. Its why I support your politcal proxies vocally. Enthusiastically, even." he replied, still not staring at her. "For me, that is."

The Countess turned Morris to her.

"Morris...am I not a friend to you?"

Morris' eyes narrowed to pinpoints, reflecting the youthful, gorgeous Arianna, with her expensive jewelry and finely done hair.

"I like to think we have an understanding..." Morris answered bluntly, a second later, turning back to face the landscape.

Arianna, being youthful and prideful and used to getting what she wanted, didn't take the hint.

"An Understanding? Why can't that be the basis for something?" Arianna asked.

"It is.." he replied, calmly, grim expression unchanged, head swiveling over to her slightly to address her. "It's the basis for us to keep working together."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then you have me at a loss, Countess." he replied, tone ever so slightly colder.

Arianna frowned, pursing her red covered lips.

Morris did not react.

"Must I spell it out for you? I 'like' you!" The Countess explained, exasperated. "I want you to be 'Count' Belasko."

"No." he said flatly.

"Why not?" she pressed, getting closer. "Think about the reach we would have, together. We could be a powerhouse, you and I. Change Naboo from the ground up to suit the Jedi's purposes. Our purposes."

"Jedi aren't supposed to assume political power unless its an emergency."

"The Jedi ARE a Political Power, Morris!" The Countess replied haughtily. "And this Gulag Virus IS an emergency."

"Even a Plague is no reason to get married." he replied calmly, professionally. Yet there wasn't an ounce of friendly in his tone. "And even if it were, I would still have no reason to marry you."

"Are you so certain?" she purred, slinking up on him.

"You can't be naive, Morris. I know there must be a man in that icy shell somewhere...I'm willing to go looking..." she whispered.

"Even were I willing to humor such a thing, I can guarantee you won't like who you find."

"Can't 'I' be the judge of that?"

"Can't you just take my word for it?" he asked with that eerie calm his 'grandchild' Lyssa would unintentionally replicate, at least partly.

She pulled away, slowly but surely getting flustered and embarrassed. There was, infuriatingly, no change in that ever-grim expression.

She tried again, composing herself. Why was he so obstinate?

"What would be so bad about being married to me? I have everything. The whole Nine Parsecs. Style...Breeding...Beauty...and Reach...and 'Eagerness'..."

"All that is true. And I am still not attracted to you." Morris replied.

There was no shouting, no bursting into tears.

Just a crestfallen face, and an uncomprehending "Why?"

"All this you have. All of this you may retain. But you are missing something." Morris was prompted to answer clinically.

"What is it?" The Countess asked, eye twitching.

"I cannot name it. It is not a thing that can be named, yet it is essential. Its lacking cannot be sensed with the Force. But it can be observed past a person's eyes." Morris replied, like a Mortician conducting an autopsy with that same detached professionalism.

"Countess, whatever your other merits, even were I capable of being attracted to them, this lacking on your part, would always be something I could never abide. But more than that, if I had to give a solid, concrete reason for why I will never be attracted to you is this: I don't think there is a day in your life where you have actually suffered. Or experienced the suffering of others. You ever see a victim of the plague up close, or do you think the credits will magically repair their body? What is in your life that 'wasn't' bought with money? Even my own presence in your life is predicated on the basic fact you supply the network I set up." he said calmly with shattering honesty.

"Those people waiting for you in the foyer? Would any of them even look at you if you were burning in the street if you didn't have a million credits to your bank account? Do you think any of them has the fortitude to step into the path of a blasterbolt to save you?"

(Joaquin! Joker: If it was me you'd walk right over!)

"You would do it." Arianna replied in a quiet, almost mousy voice.

"Because its my job. Not because I'd actually 'want' to." he emphasized in an ever terse manner. "I am not what you want, Countess. I'm sure there are plenty of others who jump at the chance. I prefer we keep things professional between us."

When Arianna remained stiff in the moonlight, unresponsive, Morris didn't even bother giving a sigh.

"Oh well. I tried. Good evening Countess." he said nonchalantly and walked away, leaving her with her twitching eye in the pretty moonlight...

Present...

"He was right of course. About me. There was something missing..." Arianna said softly to Galahad Io

"The next time I saw him was five years later, after I went looking for that missing something. He was there with The Man in White to arrest me for my...atrocities..."

 

[Dev Ossian]

“Interesting,” Galahad murmured, mulling over the story she had told. “So Morris jilted you, and later had you… arrested? Executed? What happened next?”

The Battalion​

 

[Arianna Belasko]

Arianna smiled.

"Another story for another time, I'm afraid..." Arianna said suddenly, wincing a bit at the memory. She turned her attention back on to the Datacron in question.

"Whoever did this, whoever would drop such a thing off...there could only be one reason...someone wants us to know they know something. Battalion, did anything unusual happen to you recently? Anything at all?"

"I'm Wife to an incredibly brutal woman who created a Race of Androids. Android's who troll. Everyone, everyone in the upper leadership is some kind of fethed up on a level that a Psychologist could make their whole career on, jotting down the finer points of each one of the Leadership's many idiosyncrasies. Gee, lemme think about that question..."

Arianna rolled her eyes.

"More recently than that..." she replied with a wry smile.

The Battalion stopped to think about it.

"Hmmm...well now that you mention it, I did have a spot of bother before I arrived here...I was ambushed at Dathomir by a Nightbrother, who knew my fighting style. He...had a Lightsaber that belonged to someone I...someone I knew."

Arianna's icy blue eyes narrowed to pinpoints.

"One of your...sacrifices?" she asked, knowing Cult Procedure intimately.

The Battalion nodded.

Arianna sighed. "Well that would seem to be our best lead, then. I unfortunately cannot accompany you, as I will be addressing the severe security breach and looking for that Droid."

The Battalion turned to Galahad.

"Feel like a trip to Dathomir with me?" The Battalion asked Galahad Io

(OOC: I know you are on VC, so this for when you get back from vacation)

 

[Dev Ossian]

Galahad simply shrugged his shoulders and moved on.

“Provided I will not be expected to do battle,” he replied. “I trust that you can handle yourself if we are met with hostilities from the locals.” The Battalion was an extremely powerful Witch, after all. “If not, I may be able to arrange for one of my brothers to accompany us. Lance or Percival, whomever is free.”

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

"My protection will be more than adequate, Galahad..." She assured pleasantly, inwardly giddy at the thought of having more time alone with him.

Arianna smiled. "May the Force serve the both of you."

The Battalion turned to Galahad Io .

"Before we leave for Dathomir, I'd like to stop by my room. There is something there I think you should have for the journey..." The Battalion said, gesturing for him to follow her.

As they walked down the halls, more signs of public worship of The Brain Demon became present, micro shrines to the abomination at doorsteps, General Purpose Nuetralizers conducting installations of security turrets, installing Force Fields and Ray Shields. Xiphos had decreed all buildings would be reinforced, the city shielded, the apartments shielded. Unlike some cultures, when House Io touched down and claimed a planet, the first order of business was to make that planet a Fortress Planet.

That way, if the enemy did end up destroying it anyway, at least the House would be able to say they made them work for it.

The Battalion finally reached the room she shared with Xiphos, and stepped in.

Xiphos' armor and weapons were on display in one corner, while various small bottles featuring miniature ships rested on various stands, all painstakingly constructed by The Battalion.

"Your Mother is off instructing Black Knights." The Battalion explained, Xiphos having sensed her attachment to him and finding an excuse to let them stay together awhile, moving past various sections of the otherwise utilitarian living space...as large as it was, Xiphos and the Battalion had little love for actual ornamentation besides their little side projects.

There were photos. Xiphos in her very early days, surrounded by the Model 1's, Arianna, Maple Harte...and the Amalgam, grinning like The Devil to one side, hands clasped together in classic "evil contemplation" pose, with every Nuetralizer behind her face palming at the absurdity of it. Xiphos had been caught mid eye-roll at Amy's pose. A hundred photos for a hundred different lands, a hundred situations unrecorded.

The Battalion walked up to a small slot in a wall panel, one that hadn't had much use in a while...

She typed something and it slid out, revealing a strange looking set of blue and black armor.

"It was his..." she said quietly. Much quieter than normal, without any of its usual confidence and haughtiness.

"It's yours now."

 

[Dev Ossian]

“As you wish,” Galahad said with a respectful bow of his head. Turning to Arianna, he added, “May the Force serve you as well, Grandmother.”

He departed with the Battalion, who requested that they stop by her personal quarters first. Galahad was intrigued by the promise of yet another gift. By now he had picked up on the Battalion’s favoritism towards him, though she seemed to be trying to hide her affection.

Galahad still wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Many other Neutralizers would kill to be in his place—in some cases, quite literally. The personal favor of the Consort was but a step away from having the ear of the Matriarch herself. It was a position of potentially great power and influence, but it was also a precarious one, subject to the fickle whims and transient feelings of a woman who, by her very nature, was of many minds.

He was also dismayed to see how much of the populace seemed to have joined the Cult. They passed by small shrines to the Brain Demon, placed strategically near turrets, traps, and other weapons. Galahad couldn’t help but look upon them with disdain, though he knew very well the practicality of their installation and use for defense.

Finally, they reached the private quarters of the Matriarch and her Consort. Galahad had never been inside these rooms—he imagined few private Citizens had. His walk slowed as he took in the surroundings. It was a utilitarian apartment, sparsely decorated with holo photos of Xiphos and her closest friends and allies. He paused before a picture of Xiphos and the Battalion, both wearing white robes and surrounded by similarly garbed figures…

"...It's yours now."

Galahad looked up, his gaze flicking over to the suit of armor on display. He approached it slowly, noting its many features and resistances.

“This belonged to the person whose lightsaber wound up in the hands of a Nightbrother—the same man you sacrificed to the Brain Demon?”

He couldn’t help but wonder at the implications of his wearing this, especially in light of the Amalgam claiming he had been baptized in blood. Luckily Galahad was not the superstitious type. Disappearing behind a folding screen, he suited up, stepping out again a few minutes later wearing Morris Crownwraithe’s armor.

“Let’s go to Dathomir.”

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

"No. That Lightsaber I talked of...it belonged to someone else. This armor you wear belonged to Morris." The Battalion explained. "I... recovered it a long time ago...so I'm giving it to you..."

Without elaborating further, The Battalion then headed into her room, changed out of her red robes, putting on a new catsuit and went to one knee at her personal Brain Demon shrine, asking the Dark Goddess to guide them to power, but Galahad especially to another level of enlightenment. She grabbed some of her own personal records of Morris. Then she sent a telepathic message through the Dark Side to immediately start their own private investigation into the archives security breach.

She then headed right back out and gestured Percival to follow her.

Later on...

The Battalion meditated on both knees as the TIE Reaper they were on sped to Dathomir on autopilot.

Deep down, she was greatly troubled, and so were the witches within. Who had sent that Droid? Their only lead was the attempt on her life.

To stop musing on it so much, she struck up more conversation with Galahad.

"Did I ever tell you how me and your Mother first met?" The Battalion asked. "I was freshly resurrected about a week before the second battle of Ziost, and it might interest you to know that it was this battle where the reputation of your older brothers really started taking off. They inflicted such heavy casualties that the presence of even one in an area could make an entire squad retreat. I had been celebrating, going on, y'know, a killing spree or two with The Model 1's, purified areas with the Dark Side while I was at it, regular Brain Demon Cultist stuff, and your Mother walks in on me as I'm sucking the life out of this soldier. She was wearing these white robes, and she was kinda still frosty to us despite the fact the Cult was helping her, so she's all cold and hostile, but I been around long enough to know a Tsundere when I see one, so I play it cool, and I end up helping her trigger a teleport wave after your brothers blew up half of the capital city with an underground gas pocket to destroy the NIO Advance."

The Battalion smiled faintly.

"You should have seen it. That was one of her most glorious moments. Buildings, ships, vehicles, corpses, debris, all teleported above the city to come crashing down on the unsuspecting enemy."

Galahad Io

 

[Dev Ossian]

On the way to Dathomir, the Battalion attempted to strike up a conversation, asking if she had ever told him the story of how she met Xiphos. “No, I don’t think you have,” he replied.

She launched into a tale that sounded a lot like a war story. Galahad listened, but because of his pacifism, he couldn’t really relate to her reminiscing about the battle and relishing in the violence they had unleashed upon Ziost.

Instead, he asked, “When did you first realize that you loved her?”

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

"The Planet Corbos..." The Battalion answered. "She was bored. And lonely. Syd had realized after Csilla Laertia was working with the Cult. She wished to test me in a duel."

Then the Battalion smiled.

"We used Lightfoils."

The Battalion didn't say much more.

"But it was when she asked me to marry her...and I had just completed an especially unpleasant ritual and feeding...that was when I realized I had it bad for her..."

The Battalion then looked at Galahad Io

"What's your happiest memory been so far, since you first came into being?"

 

[Dev Ossian]

“You’ll forgive my curiosity,” Galahad said, his tone slightly apologetic. “My lack of sexual proclivities has given me an outsider’s look on love. So, I would like to clarify. Your feelings for Xiphos—are they merely a strong feeling of attraction, or is there something more to it?”

Though his droid brain was capable of thinking at a far faster rate than a human’s, Galahad still gave Elaine’s question full consideration for several moments. He had only a few scrambled memories from before the Trifurcation, with hazy feelings of joy, heartbreak, anger, or dread attached to them. But since then? What had he experienced that could be called his happiest moment thus far?

At last, he replied, “I went to see a show on Alderaan. Not something I would normally do, but this particular show was performed by refugees living in Sanctuary City. When I arrived, a girl was standing outside the front of the theater, handing out flowers. She handed me the most perfect rose. I put it in my lapel, went in, and found my seat. I sat in a box near the stage, just the right distance away to be able to hear the music clearly. Beautiful music, played wonderfully by these men and women who had lost everything, yet were not without hope. It was… a most pleasant evening.”

Perhaps it wasn’t as grand or deeply personal as the happiest memories of others, but for Galahad it had meant something. That much was clear in his expression and voice as he spoke of that night. Whatever he had experienced, it wasn't really something that could be put into words.

The Battalion​