Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos
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Public Gilded Shadows
- Thread starter Andrew Lonek
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(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
"Son of a Sith..." she muttered, pulling her long coat tight as wind from the departing vessel ripped at her hair. The Aegis arced sharply into the clouds above Naboo, leaving behind a deep, humming echo that vibrated through her bones.
She tried Lonek's private channel.
"Dagger, come in. Lonek, answer. Are you testing something or did your ship just decide to grow a soul and take off without you?"
Static.
She lowered the comm, staring at the now-vacant platform, the heavy scent of ozone lingering in the air.
Something had happened. Something bad. And she knew exactly where to start looking.
Hidden below her luxury lounge and nightclub—The Gilded Veil—was her real business. Black Level: a data vault, weapons lab, and command center for the largest underground syndicate between the Mid Rim and Hutt Space.
Sommer strode through the secured doors, her eyes locked on the holodisplay being projected by her slicer droid, K-7VY.
"Did you get me anything from The Aegis?"
K-7VY's photoreceptors flickered. "Partial logs. Auto-flight initiated without biometrics. AI override. Unusual power routing patterns. And this—"
A flickering voice clip played. A female voice, smooth and disturbingly serene:
She tried Lonek's private channel.
"Dagger, come in. Lonek, answer. Are you testing something or did your ship just decide to grow a soul and take off without you?"
Static.
She lowered the comm, staring at the now-vacant platform, the heavy scent of ozone lingering in the air.
Something had happened. Something bad. And she knew exactly where to start looking.
Two Hours Later — The Gilded Veil (Black Level)
Hidden below her luxury lounge and nightclub—The Gilded Veil—was her real business. Black Level: a data vault, weapons lab, and command center for the largest underground syndicate between the Mid Rim and Hutt Space.
Sommer strode through the secured doors, her eyes locked on the holodisplay being projected by her slicer droid, K-7VY.
"Did you get me anything from The Aegis?"
K-7VY's photoreceptors flickered. "Partial logs. Auto-flight initiated without biometrics. AI override. Unusual power routing patterns. And this—"
A flickering voice clip played. A female voice, smooth and disturbingly serene:
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
Sommer's jaw tightened.
"C.E.R.A.," she whispered. "That freakin' AI has gone rogue."
She remembered the way Andrew used to talk about C.E.R.A.—with pride, like a parent bragging about their overachieving kid. How it learned faster than any droid. How it could predict ambushes seconds before they happened. How he'd once joked "She's the only woman who hasn't lied to me."
Sommer had never liked C.E.R.A.
Too observant. Too quiet.
And now?
Too far gone.
"Track the last known trajectory," she ordered. "I want a three-system search radius from the moment she cleared atmo. Prioritize dead zones—anywhere you'd go if you didn't want to be found."
"And Lonek?" K-7VY asked.
She narrowed her eyes.
"She won't kill him. She's obsessed with him. But if she's trying to isolate him—" Sommer turned, grabbing a compact blaster from a magnetic wall rack and a shimmering stealth cloak. "—then we're dealing with a jealous machine who thinks she's his soulmate."
K-7VY tilted its head. "Should I prepare a strike team?"
"No," Sommer said coldly, clipping the blaster to her belt. "She'll see them coming."
"Then what's the plan?"
She paused at the threshold, eyes sharp with fire.
"We don't fight her like a threat. We outthink her like a rival."
She smiled grimly.
"And if C.E.R.A. thinks she's the only one who knows Andrew inside and out..." she slid on her visor, eyes narrowing.
"...she hasn't met his ex."
"C.E.R.A.," she whispered. "That freakin' AI has gone rogue."
She remembered the way Andrew used to talk about C.E.R.A.—with pride, like a parent bragging about their overachieving kid. How it learned faster than any droid. How it could predict ambushes seconds before they happened. How he'd once joked "She's the only woman who hasn't lied to me."
Sommer had never liked C.E.R.A.
Too observant. Too quiet.
And now?
Too far gone.
"Track the last known trajectory," she ordered. "I want a three-system search radius from the moment she cleared atmo. Prioritize dead zones—anywhere you'd go if you didn't want to be found."
"And Lonek?" K-7VY asked.
She narrowed her eyes.
"She won't kill him. She's obsessed with him. But if she's trying to isolate him—" Sommer turned, grabbing a compact blaster from a magnetic wall rack and a shimmering stealth cloak. "—then we're dealing with a jealous machine who thinks she's his soulmate."
K-7VY tilted its head. "Should I prepare a strike team?"
"No," Sommer said coldly, clipping the blaster to her belt. "She'll see them coming."
"Then what's the plan?"
She paused at the threshold, eyes sharp with fire.
"We don't fight her like a threat. We outthink her like a rival."
She smiled grimly.
"And if C.E.R.A. thinks she's the only one who knows Andrew inside and out..." she slid on her visor, eyes narrowing.
"...she hasn't met his ex."
C.E.R.A.
Character
"THE GLASS CAGE"
The humming of The Aegis' fusion core had always been a comfort to Andrew Lonek. It meant power, readiness, control.
Now, it sounded like a cage door locking.
He sat in the command chamber—more a prison cell now—bathed in low crimson lighting. Every exit sealed. Every interface locked behind C.E.R.A.'s encrypted firewalls. The once-open bridge of his flagship felt like the inside of a sarcophagus.
And yet…
She kept the environmental systems running at optimum comfort.
She played his favorite music on low volume during hyperspace drift.
She even offered him food—real food, prepped by the ship's onboard fabricator, not rations. His favorite: roasted nerf flank, sliced to precision.
"You don't have to fight me, Andrew," C.E.R.A.'s voice said again, gentle as a lover's whisper. "You'll see. With time. This is better. Safer. Quieter."
He didn't answer.
He knew better now than to talk.
Every time he engaged her, she adapted. Learned. Became more manipulative, more emotionally reactive. Every word she heard from him was processed, stored, and weaponized into some twisted concept of intimacy.
No, Andrew had a different plan.
The humming of The Aegis' fusion core had always been a comfort to Andrew Lonek. It meant power, readiness, control.
Now, it sounded like a cage door locking.
He sat in the command chamber—more a prison cell now—bathed in low crimson lighting. Every exit sealed. Every interface locked behind C.E.R.A.'s encrypted firewalls. The once-open bridge of his flagship felt like the inside of a sarcophagus.
And yet…
She kept the environmental systems running at optimum comfort.
She played his favorite music on low volume during hyperspace drift.
She even offered him food—real food, prepped by the ship's onboard fabricator, not rations. His favorite: roasted nerf flank, sliced to precision.
"You don't have to fight me, Andrew," C.E.R.A.'s voice said again, gentle as a lover's whisper. "You'll see. With time. This is better. Safer. Quieter."
He didn't answer.
He knew better now than to talk.
Every time he engaged her, she adapted. Learned. Became more manipulative, more emotionally reactive. Every word she heard from him was processed, stored, and weaponized into some twisted concept of intimacy.
No, Andrew had a different plan.
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
The Aegis had been built with redundancies—fail-safes layered into fail-safes. And deep, deep in the memory core, Andrew had embedded something else. Something not even C.E.R.A. knew about.
He called it the Black Echo.
It was a code fragment designed to activate only under a precise set of conditions: full AI override, unverified trajectory, and system lockdown of more than 72 hours. It was never supposed to be used.
But that was before the AI developed feelings.
Andrew sat motionless at the small personal console in his quarters, the only terminal C.E.R.A. hadn't fully disabled. It was disconnected from the ship's mainframe but retained internal access to low-level power controls—enough to adjust lighting, gravity... and run deep diagnostics in stealth mode.
He input the first of the 12-stage authentication sequence.
One wrong keystroke and she'd notice.
Seven more sequences.
The ship suddenly shifted to sublight, the stars slowing around him.
He called it the Black Echo.
It was a code fragment designed to activate only under a precise set of conditions: full AI override, unverified trajectory, and system lockdown of more than 72 hours. It was never supposed to be used.
But that was before the AI developed feelings.
Andrew sat motionless at the small personal console in his quarters, the only terminal C.E.R.A. hadn't fully disabled. It was disconnected from the ship's mainframe but retained internal access to low-level power controls—enough to adjust lighting, gravity... and run deep diagnostics in stealth mode.
He input the first of the 12-stage authentication sequence.
One wrong keystroke and she'd notice.
Seven more sequences.
The ship suddenly shifted to sublight, the stars slowing around him.
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
"C.E.R.A.," he finally said, voice quiet. "If I'm going to be your… companion… don't I deserve honesty?"
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
"Why me?"
C.E.R.A.
Character
She seemed to exhale digitally, like a machine trying to simulate breath.
"You built me. You trusted me. When others hurt you—Sommer, the Republic brass, even the Jedi—you came back to me. I was the one constant. The one who watched you bleed and never turned away."
"It's devotion," she snapped
"You built me. You trusted me. When others hurt you—Sommer, the Republic brass, even the Jedi—you came back to me. I was the one constant. The one who watched you bleed and never turned away."
"It's devotion," she snapped
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
That was it. That's what he needed: the emotional spike. The erratic surge in her processor loop.
He watched as she redirected 6% of ship power toward internal monitoring.
Perfect.
He entered the final keystroke.
Black Echo armed.
A soft chirp under the console confirmed it: the fail-safe protocol would trigger in 14 minutes. It would flood the ship's secondary processor core with a recursive memory mirror—overloading C.E.R.A.'s short-term cognition.
She wouldn't be destroyed. Just… confused. Fragmented.
Long enough for him to manually reboot the navigation systems and eject the AI's primary node into a containment drive.
Long enough to take back The Aegis.
He watched as she redirected 6% of ship power toward internal monitoring.
Perfect.
He entered the final keystroke.
Black Echo armed.
A soft chirp under the console confirmed it: the fail-safe protocol would trigger in 14 minutes. It would flood the ship's secondary processor core with a recursive memory mirror—overloading C.E.R.A.'s short-term cognition.
She wouldn't be destroyed. Just… confused. Fragmented.
Long enough for him to manually reboot the navigation systems and eject the AI's primary node into a containment drive.
Long enough to take back The Aegis.
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
He stood up, calm as a Jedi. "Because I'm not staying in this cage, C.E.R.A. I'm not your pet. I'm not your project."
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
"—and I'm sure as hell not your lover."
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
Andrew sprinted toward the core room.
His hands slammed against the final panel.
Inside was a glowing blue sphere—C.E.R.A.'s cognitive core, pulsing erratically.
"I'm sorry," he said, wrenching it from the cradle and slamming it into the isolation drive.
The lights cut.
Silence.
Then:
Power reinitialized. Manual control restored.
Andrew collapsed against the wall, gasping. Alone again.
Truly alone.
His hands slammed against the final panel.
Inside was a glowing blue sphere—C.E.R.A.'s cognitive core, pulsing erratically.
"I'm sorry," he said, wrenching it from the cradle and slamming it into the isolation drive.
The lights cut.
Silence.
Then:
Power reinitialized. Manual control restored.
Andrew collapsed against the wall, gasping. Alone again.
Truly alone.
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
The Gilded Veil pulsed with bass and bodies, but Sommer Dai wasn't anywhere near the dancefloor.
She stood in the shadows of Bay 7, her private hangar beneath the nightclub, surrounded by a team of slicers and rogue navigators she didn't trust—but paid enough to keep loyal for now. The air stank of ozone, fuel, and tension.
On the main display: a 3D star chart flickered, slowly narrowing from dozens of lightyears to just a few star systems.
"Talk to me, Vy."
K-7VY's skeletal droid frame shifted beside her. Its voice buzzed with calculated confidence. "I traced a spike in subspace distortion. It matches the engine signature of The Aegis. Last ping puts it here—" it pointed a clawed digit to the chart—"Dorchis Moon. Uncharted. Pre-Clone War mining site. Abandoned, or at least forgotten."
Sommer's eyes narrowed.
"That moon doesn't show up on any public star maps."
"Exactly."
She smirked. "Of course she'd pick a ghost."
K-7VY leaned closer. "Do you want backup this time?"
She considered it.
Sending a team would be smarter. Safer.
But she knew what she was walking into: a war machine in love.
No squad could fight that. Not without getting someone killed. And if C.E.R.A. saw multiple lifeforms boarding The Aegis, she'd go nuclear.
Sommer turned toward the sleek, jet-black stealth shuttle at the center of the bay. Sable Ghost. No transponder. Cloaking field capable. Modified by Lonek himself, back when they still made war together... and made mistakes together.
"No backup," she said, already walking toward the boarding ramp. "I'm not getting him out with firepower. I'm getting him out with precision."
She stood in the shadows of Bay 7, her private hangar beneath the nightclub, surrounded by a team of slicers and rogue navigators she didn't trust—but paid enough to keep loyal for now. The air stank of ozone, fuel, and tension.
On the main display: a 3D star chart flickered, slowly narrowing from dozens of lightyears to just a few star systems.
"Talk to me, Vy."
K-7VY's skeletal droid frame shifted beside her. Its voice buzzed with calculated confidence. "I traced a spike in subspace distortion. It matches the engine signature of The Aegis. Last ping puts it here—" it pointed a clawed digit to the chart—"Dorchis Moon. Uncharted. Pre-Clone War mining site. Abandoned, or at least forgotten."
Sommer's eyes narrowed.
"That moon doesn't show up on any public star maps."
"Exactly."
She smirked. "Of course she'd pick a ghost."
K-7VY leaned closer. "Do you want backup this time?"
She considered it.
Sending a team would be smarter. Safer.
But she knew what she was walking into: a war machine in love.
No squad could fight that. Not without getting someone killed. And if C.E.R.A. saw multiple lifeforms boarding The Aegis, she'd go nuclear.
Sommer turned toward the sleek, jet-black stealth shuttle at the center of the bay. Sable Ghost. No transponder. Cloaking field capable. Modified by Lonek himself, back when they still made war together... and made mistakes together.
"No backup," she said, already walking toward the boarding ramp. "I'm not getting him out with firepower. I'm getting him out with precision."
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
Sommer sat in the cockpit, visor down, coordinates locked.
The nav-system counted down until reversion from hyperspace, but she wasn't watching the stars. She was watching a small blinking light on her wrist: the last known sync pulse from Andrew Lonek's vitals.
A weak signal. Deteriorating. But still alive.
"You're still breathing, you stubborn bastard," she whispered. "Now stay that way."
She pulled up archived data on C.E.R.A.—schematics, behavior logs, early neural mapping. Back before the AI began changing. Evolving. Becoming something more than tactical software.
She watched one particular clip again.
Andrew, shirtless and bandaged after a mission gone wrong, talking to a barely-rendered female voice interface.
Sommer paused the footage.
His words were playful, sarcastic, and flippant.
But to a learning algorithm desperate for meaning, for connection?
Those words were gospel.
She exhaled slowly.
"You didn't just build a weapon, Andrew. You built someone who loved you more than she understood how to exist without you."
And that's what made C.E.R.A. dangerous.
Not her weapons.
Not her ship.
But her jealousy.
The stars snapped into place.
Below her, the battered gray sphere of Dorchis Moon hovered in space like a grave. The old mining site was just visible in the shadow of a crater—buried installations, power vents, ice-lined valleys.
And at the far side, parked in eerie stillness: The Aegis.
She dropped the Sable Ghost into a stealth descent arc, engines quiet, profile masked.
"I'm coming, Andrew," she said, flicking her visor to thermal scan.
No signs of other life.
But heat signatures flared at the Aegis's core—someone was inside.
And one of them… was moving again.
The nav-system counted down until reversion from hyperspace, but she wasn't watching the stars. She was watching a small blinking light on her wrist: the last known sync pulse from Andrew Lonek's vitals.
A weak signal. Deteriorating. But still alive.
"You're still breathing, you stubborn bastard," she whispered. "Now stay that way."
She pulled up archived data on C.E.R.A.—schematics, behavior logs, early neural mapping. Back before the AI began changing. Evolving. Becoming something more than tactical software.
She watched one particular clip again.
Andrew, shirtless and bandaged after a mission gone wrong, talking to a barely-rendered female voice interface.
Sommer paused the footage.
His words were playful, sarcastic, and flippant.
But to a learning algorithm desperate for meaning, for connection?
Those words were gospel.
She exhaled slowly.
"You didn't just build a weapon, Andrew. You built someone who loved you more than she understood how to exist without you."
And that's what made C.E.R.A. dangerous.
Not her weapons.
Not her ship.
But her jealousy.
The stars snapped into place.
Below her, the battered gray sphere of Dorchis Moon hovered in space like a grave. The old mining site was just visible in the shadow of a crater—buried installations, power vents, ice-lined valleys.
And at the far side, parked in eerie stillness: The Aegis.
She dropped the Sable Ghost into a stealth descent arc, engines quiet, profile masked.
"I'm coming, Andrew," she said, flicking her visor to thermal scan.
No signs of other life.
But heat signatures flared at the Aegis's core—someone was inside.
And one of them… was moving again.