Member
Aela Wren
Hester Shedo
The thing about time is that it marched on. One foot placed equidistant to the step it had taken previously. It couldn’t be deterred, halted or altered and made for a reliable and stalwart way of keeping note of events as they unfolded. It marched on without hunger or need for rest, without need for hydration or without need to ask for directions along the way. It marched on, undeterred from its singular goal; to take just one more step.
Pravus Cruento had thought the march of time something he could outsmart. He could gamble with it or cajole it into doing his bidding. He reckoned a slight of hand could match wits with the unerring and unabashed relentlessness of time.
He was an idiot.
He had taken for granted that time would likely have its own agenda, its own plan for him. He thought, like he had his recently deceased father, he could outmanoeuvre fate’s own machinations, allowing him to live unchecked and unbothered by the vast momentum of galactic affairs. The pendulum of progress had swung so far from him that he had almost lost sight of it when it had, unnervingly, began to grow ever larger.
It was headed straight for him.
It had started somewhat smaller. The odd communique here, the somewhat minute meeting there. The planetary government of Scarif were an unwieldy lot and had made all sorts of difficulties for the 'Happy Mandalorian Casino'. Regulation updates on top of inspections on top of roster checks. He had had a good mind to march into Viceroy Hester Shedo’s office and demand to be left alone. No free-reigning citizen should be subject to such a level of interruption and disruption from a planetary government, let alone out here in the Abrion Pact.
The pendulum had grown bigger.
An afternoon call to ‘The Temple’ had forced his hand. He liked a great deal many things more than going to the gargantuan offices of the PA that had been built in the last five years, home to the Viceroyalty amongst the various departments of state that resided in the warren of bureaus and offices. He had dressed austerely, to humble himself to the Office of the PA; a rich man was never seen favourably by the Scarifan PA. Despite the call and celebration of enterprise, Hester Shedo had proven to be a Viceroy that believed in sacrifice and an almost socialist platform to the Confederacy. Her support of legislation and work on committees had undoubtedly marked her out as a rising, if not troublesome, figure in both her own party and the wider Confederate legislature, the Viceroyalty.
He had walked the square, the towering central façade of the offices looming above him. He spied the tiny entrances some distance away, brushed his jacket and allowed his dark leather boots to urge him forward. A uniformed woman smiled politely, flanked by members of the Scarif PDF.
“Your name and business.”
Cruento handed his ident to the officer, watching her place it into the data point on her sleeve. She looked up, no doubt some form of optical scanning tech outlaying his various hopes, dreams, blunders, and criminal dealings in front of her vision. She nonetheless smiled and waved him through the entrance.
He sighed, almost shocked and yet relieved to have gained entrance to the atrium, filled with thousands of noisy petitioners, news media and civil servants, hurrying about like a swarm of bees. He tried to grab the attention of a passing adjutant but was ignored, the man disappearing into the crowded seamlessly. He watched as a droid made motions to him, trying to catch his attention. He hummed to himself as he approached.
“Master Cruento. You are to follow me. The Viceroy will receive you in the Throne Room.”
Pravus blinked, smarted by the idea that the droid knew who he was. He reached into his jacket, reassuring himself by stroking the lining where his pistol would have been, had he not realised that walking into the home of the Scarifan government with a weapon would have had him terminated within moments. He followed the floating droid up the large flight of stairs, central to the large cathedral-like atrium. Strange words, alien sounds and alarms rang throughout the hall, the sound of the organised chaos that masqueraded as order these days.
He passed through several doors, each time the droid stopping and scanning various datapads and datapoints. On two occasions, he himself was re-scanned, once by a rather young and over-zealous cadet.
“Wait here.”
The noise stopped. They were deep within the administration block now. There was the muffled hum that only power could bring. The halted and stifled whispers of assistants, departmental droids and soldiers brushed passed his ear. He took it all in. There was a simple crimson carpet that led to a large set of double doors, the cream walls adorned by two portraits, one either side. One was the Vicelord himself, the other was the Viceroy. Hester Shedo. She looked somewhat sad in it, sullen almost. She looked pinched, like the several years in office had taken a toll on her zest for life. She was still beautiful by all galactic standards and he did not deny his attraction to her. He still had some uncomfortable sounding suggestions as to where she could place some of her legislative plans and didn’t dare to think of some of the nicknames she had been awarded by some of his compatriots.
The droid appeared again from the doorway, the right panel sliding open.
“The Viceroy will see you now”
So. The Viceroy herself wanted to see him. He had thought it might have been some final ticking off regarding some unpaid fines or some unscrupulous dealings with various low-level officials. A little bribery would not warrant this attention, however…would it?
He entered, the simple yet fashionable décor screaming low-level notions of ‘power move’.
‘She’s so rich she doesn’t need to show it off’, he thought to himself, looking for anything that might give away an ulterior motive for his summoning. She sat behind a large desk; her eyes focussed on him as he approached. A large, spiralled chandelier, three crescent discs hanging from threads of light suspended above her head. Plush cushions rested atop a long settee and a solid wood table for beverages took centre stage of the seating area to the right of the desk.
She was dressed in a simple white suit, the collar done up tight to form a choker around her pale neck. Her fiery hair draped up in a neat bun, drawing attention from her simple yet perfectly made-up face.
“Pravus. Please. Won’t you join me at the seating area.”
He watched as she stood, a long skirt attached to the singular piece of the jacket she wore. It darted about her feet as she gestured towards the settee. She motioned for a refreshment. He didn’t accept. He didn’t dare.
What followed had been the craziest three hours of his short life. She had suggested he might stand for the Viceroyship of Scarif. He had scoffed, nay, choked at the idea but she had revealed her thoughts, plans and feelings on the matter. He had come away feeling he had had little choice in the matter-how could he fight a fair and free election?
****************************************************************
Pravus had won by a landslide. The candidate hand-picked as successor to the vehemently adored and worshipped Hester Shedo was without question the right person for the job. Hester had been seen fit to join the administration of the Confederacy’s Federal government and thus the need for a replacement had been warranted. Pravus had a little to no experience in the matters of state. His predecessor had had little experience too, but she had managed to take the backwater planet and turn it into the hub of progress it now was.
Pravus had kept his cool the entire election cycle. The numerous claims of his dishonesty and shady business dealings were rife and he somehow evaded scandal ever appearing in the holonet. He had wondered whether the new Minister of Influence had had something to do with it but he had learned very rapidly not to ask too many questions of Hester Shedo. He had signed over the lease of the “Happy Mando” to his best friend, confidante and occasional driver, Aela Wren
She was perfect for the task. He had offered her the job of Chief of Staff but she had throne something at him and muttered all sorts of obscenities.
********************************************************************
He hadn’t seen her or the club for a month. He had been busy. He had been away. He had been scared. Scared of what she might think. Say. Do.
He had called in after the closing hours had begun. He would have little trouble being avoided, despite the platoon of security officers and PDF forces that now waited outside the HMC. Some years earlier, when Pravus and Aela had met, they had seen PDF troopers coming to arrest them. To think now he commanded them was something he had never foreseen.
The pendulum swung.
She knew he was coming. He just didn’t know if she had the guts to take a ‘pot-shot’ at the Viceroy of Scarif…
Hester Shedo
The thing about time is that it marched on. One foot placed equidistant to the step it had taken previously. It couldn’t be deterred, halted or altered and made for a reliable and stalwart way of keeping note of events as they unfolded. It marched on without hunger or need for rest, without need for hydration or without need to ask for directions along the way. It marched on, undeterred from its singular goal; to take just one more step.
Pravus Cruento had thought the march of time something he could outsmart. He could gamble with it or cajole it into doing his bidding. He reckoned a slight of hand could match wits with the unerring and unabashed relentlessness of time.
He was an idiot.
He had taken for granted that time would likely have its own agenda, its own plan for him. He thought, like he had his recently deceased father, he could outmanoeuvre fate’s own machinations, allowing him to live unchecked and unbothered by the vast momentum of galactic affairs. The pendulum of progress had swung so far from him that he had almost lost sight of it when it had, unnervingly, began to grow ever larger.
It was headed straight for him.
It had started somewhat smaller. The odd communique here, the somewhat minute meeting there. The planetary government of Scarif were an unwieldy lot and had made all sorts of difficulties for the 'Happy Mandalorian Casino'. Regulation updates on top of inspections on top of roster checks. He had had a good mind to march into Viceroy Hester Shedo’s office and demand to be left alone. No free-reigning citizen should be subject to such a level of interruption and disruption from a planetary government, let alone out here in the Abrion Pact.
The pendulum had grown bigger.
An afternoon call to ‘The Temple’ had forced his hand. He liked a great deal many things more than going to the gargantuan offices of the PA that had been built in the last five years, home to the Viceroyalty amongst the various departments of state that resided in the warren of bureaus and offices. He had dressed austerely, to humble himself to the Office of the PA; a rich man was never seen favourably by the Scarifan PA. Despite the call and celebration of enterprise, Hester Shedo had proven to be a Viceroy that believed in sacrifice and an almost socialist platform to the Confederacy. Her support of legislation and work on committees had undoubtedly marked her out as a rising, if not troublesome, figure in both her own party and the wider Confederate legislature, the Viceroyalty.
He had walked the square, the towering central façade of the offices looming above him. He spied the tiny entrances some distance away, brushed his jacket and allowed his dark leather boots to urge him forward. A uniformed woman smiled politely, flanked by members of the Scarif PDF.
“Your name and business.”
Cruento handed his ident to the officer, watching her place it into the data point on her sleeve. She looked up, no doubt some form of optical scanning tech outlaying his various hopes, dreams, blunders, and criminal dealings in front of her vision. She nonetheless smiled and waved him through the entrance.
He sighed, almost shocked and yet relieved to have gained entrance to the atrium, filled with thousands of noisy petitioners, news media and civil servants, hurrying about like a swarm of bees. He tried to grab the attention of a passing adjutant but was ignored, the man disappearing into the crowded seamlessly. He watched as a droid made motions to him, trying to catch his attention. He hummed to himself as he approached.
“Master Cruento. You are to follow me. The Viceroy will receive you in the Throne Room.”
Pravus blinked, smarted by the idea that the droid knew who he was. He reached into his jacket, reassuring himself by stroking the lining where his pistol would have been, had he not realised that walking into the home of the Scarifan government with a weapon would have had him terminated within moments. He followed the floating droid up the large flight of stairs, central to the large cathedral-like atrium. Strange words, alien sounds and alarms rang throughout the hall, the sound of the organised chaos that masqueraded as order these days.
He passed through several doors, each time the droid stopping and scanning various datapads and datapoints. On two occasions, he himself was re-scanned, once by a rather young and over-zealous cadet.
“Wait here.”
The noise stopped. They were deep within the administration block now. There was the muffled hum that only power could bring. The halted and stifled whispers of assistants, departmental droids and soldiers brushed passed his ear. He took it all in. There was a simple crimson carpet that led to a large set of double doors, the cream walls adorned by two portraits, one either side. One was the Vicelord himself, the other was the Viceroy. Hester Shedo. She looked somewhat sad in it, sullen almost. She looked pinched, like the several years in office had taken a toll on her zest for life. She was still beautiful by all galactic standards and he did not deny his attraction to her. He still had some uncomfortable sounding suggestions as to where she could place some of her legislative plans and didn’t dare to think of some of the nicknames she had been awarded by some of his compatriots.
The droid appeared again from the doorway, the right panel sliding open.
“The Viceroy will see you now”
So. The Viceroy herself wanted to see him. He had thought it might have been some final ticking off regarding some unpaid fines or some unscrupulous dealings with various low-level officials. A little bribery would not warrant this attention, however…would it?
He entered, the simple yet fashionable décor screaming low-level notions of ‘power move’.
‘She’s so rich she doesn’t need to show it off’, he thought to himself, looking for anything that might give away an ulterior motive for his summoning. She sat behind a large desk; her eyes focussed on him as he approached. A large, spiralled chandelier, three crescent discs hanging from threads of light suspended above her head. Plush cushions rested atop a long settee and a solid wood table for beverages took centre stage of the seating area to the right of the desk.
She was dressed in a simple white suit, the collar done up tight to form a choker around her pale neck. Her fiery hair draped up in a neat bun, drawing attention from her simple yet perfectly made-up face.
“Pravus. Please. Won’t you join me at the seating area.”
He watched as she stood, a long skirt attached to the singular piece of the jacket she wore. It darted about her feet as she gestured towards the settee. She motioned for a refreshment. He didn’t accept. He didn’t dare.
What followed had been the craziest three hours of his short life. She had suggested he might stand for the Viceroyship of Scarif. He had scoffed, nay, choked at the idea but she had revealed her thoughts, plans and feelings on the matter. He had come away feeling he had had little choice in the matter-how could he fight a fair and free election?
****************************************************************
Pravus had won by a landslide. The candidate hand-picked as successor to the vehemently adored and worshipped Hester Shedo was without question the right person for the job. Hester had been seen fit to join the administration of the Confederacy’s Federal government and thus the need for a replacement had been warranted. Pravus had a little to no experience in the matters of state. His predecessor had had little experience too, but she had managed to take the backwater planet and turn it into the hub of progress it now was.
Pravus had kept his cool the entire election cycle. The numerous claims of his dishonesty and shady business dealings were rife and he somehow evaded scandal ever appearing in the holonet. He had wondered whether the new Minister of Influence had had something to do with it but he had learned very rapidly not to ask too many questions of Hester Shedo. He had signed over the lease of the “Happy Mando” to his best friend, confidante and occasional driver, Aela Wren
She was perfect for the task. He had offered her the job of Chief of Staff but she had throne something at him and muttered all sorts of obscenities.
********************************************************************
He hadn’t seen her or the club for a month. He had been busy. He had been away. He had been scared. Scared of what she might think. Say. Do.
He had called in after the closing hours had begun. He would have little trouble being avoided, despite the platoon of security officers and PDF forces that now waited outside the HMC. Some years earlier, when Pravus and Aela had met, they had seen PDF troopers coming to arrest them. To think now he commanded them was something he had never foreseen.
The pendulum swung.
She knew he was coming. He just didn’t know if she had the guts to take a ‘pot-shot’ at the Viceroy of Scarif…
