Infestation | Laux

[Malok]

R Y L O T H​

The Infestation ran deep.

Countless attempts had been made to rid the vermillion world of its vermin. Countless laws had been enacted. Countless crackdowns and raids had been conducted. And still, the anathema remained. It was as if the very ideal of bondage had seeped into the soil of Ryloth, intent on choking out any true thoughts of freedom. No matter how diligent the Confederacy fought back against the chains of slavery, they always seemed to ensnare new victims. And yet, they still fought. And yet, they continued to try.

It was under the cover of darkness that the next attempt began.

As the warmth of day made its final retreat, a looming figure tightened the clasp of his poncho. Sulfuric eyes narrowed against the nighttime breeze, permitting him to see the target of his Hunt. For the moment, he stood perched atop a cropping of jagged stones - overlooking a ravine that had been eroded into the sandy ground. Within this ragged abyss were a number of lights: a sea of tents which had been hastily erected throughout the afternoon.

The slavers thought that their operations had gone unnoticed. They deluded themselves into thinking that their plans were sound. But they were as a gallon of water held within a cracked vessel - leaks were bound to happen. And one such was enough to inspire the Vicelord himself to bring these mongrels to heel.

Reaching, Darth Metus clutched the macrobinoculars which hung from his belt and raised them to his eyes. The magnification provided him valuable insight on just what kind of resistance to expect. Armed guards wandered about the "sea", patrolling for anything out of the ordinary. At the far end of the tents waited a cargo freighter. Nothing too spectacular, mind, as discretion was clearly the intent. Crates were being loaded as he looked, and the Sith could scarcely make out a line of chains leading away from the ship's ramp. No doubt, these were slaves - either being brought aboard or being offloaded onto the planet.

They never learn.

The hushed tone of his voice heralded the return of his binoculars to his belt. In their place, he readied his lightsaber before moving quietly over the stones. His boots skidded ever so slightly as he made his way down into the ravine, coming to a halt just outside a darkened tent. Darth Metus lowered himself to a crouch before proceeding, utilising the natural darkness and the tents themselves as a means of disguising his movements. His end destination was the ship itself, for without transit, the operation would be effectively halted for the time being. Then, he could take his time breaking the sods who infringed upon his Law.

And after some time of excessive patience on his part, Darth Metus finally arrived.

Once again, he lowered himself to the earth, briefly taking a knee as he assessed the situation before his eyes. The ramp leading aboard the ship had only just begun to retract...and if he was seeing correctly, an archaic keypad was located just above the bay. In order to even come aboard, he would have to acquire the code. Or. He could go in guns blazing and reduce the ship to rubble along the way. His pulse quickened. The mere thought of diving in headfirst was easily the more appealing option - a lifetime's worth of battlegrounds had made it so.

But he had to think smart. If he did so, he was forfeiting any valuable Intel that could be aboard. Any shreds of information on who or what was organizing these slavers could be lost to flame. There was just too much opportunity to pass up, heritage be damned, and so he looked to another avenue. Hmm...There! A dark-haired woman, only a stone's throw away from his position. She did not seem as if she were a slave, judging from the pronounced lack of chains around her neck. And therefore may have possessed the information Darth Metus sought. Thus, from behind the cover of a tent did he slide his bare palm across the dusty ground.

His fingers clutched a stone.

He hurled it at her feet.

Of course, upon looking at the ground there would be no clear indication where it came from...only a vague sense of direction. The Sith hoped she would take the bait. In fact, he was counting on it.

[member="Eladia Laux"]

 

[Eladia Laux]

After a week of travel, they'd finally made it to Ryloth. A slave trade planet. She'd never spent much time here- Laux had a tendency to avoid known slave capitals, but this was different. She was here for work, not pleasure. Upon successful delivery, not only would she receive a hefty sum of credits, but this very ship - which, as a gesture of good faith, they'd allowed her to use their vessel. How could she have refused such an offer?

The unmarked freighter was a means of safe transport; and quite frankly, she'd take all the help she could get. Such precious, hostile cargo. Bringing slaves into the heart of CIS space was certainly a risky move. Laux had a tendency to navigate systems with a 'moral grey area'; with government officials who'd turn a blind eye as long as you offered the right amount of credits. Ryloth, however, had been the target of liberation. The CIS struggled valiantly against their opposition - it was almost inspiring. But of course, there would always be a need for slaves.

People will always find a way.

This wasn't the first time she'd accepted a dangerous mission, and far from the last.
It was just another job; she had to remember that.

After their landing, Laux quickly moved from the cockpit to the holding area. It seemed like most of the cargo was deep in sleep, although that wouldn't last long. With a hard tug on their chains, the majority moved to their feet, while others sat defiantly- spewing profanities her way. She'd hardly reached for her blaster when their slew of insults ended, and they too fell in line. She wasn't heartless, far from it, but if she hadn't transported them, certainly someone else would've.

Laux tapped her foot lightly against the steel, waiting for her bay doors to open. It was a slow procedure, the ship was old, but soon enough their ramp extended, and they made their way down. It'd be easily to slip in to the crowd- the hustle and bustle of late-night activities and trade would prove to be cover enough. She lead the line of slaves forward - her contact wouldn't be far from their landing point. Laux was certain they'd already been made known of their arrival. She'd just need to find their tent, and she could get off of this sad little planet.

However, her attention was drawn by a gentle thud at her ankles. Laux stopped mid-stride, narrowing her gaze, and scanning her surroundings. She refused to be played with, there was a delivery to make, and the night would only last so long. Before she could pursue, however, she was approached by a Twi'lek. Standing a foot and a half above her, this unknown male let out a boisterous laugh, and gentle grabbed her shoulder. "A good haul! And no casualties? I'm sure we'll be making great use of you in the future." Laux had nothing more to offer him than an awkward smile. "And, what of my payment?" After a quick pat, the large blue-green Twi'lek pulled away. "Of course, the credits will be transferred in full to your accounts within the hour."

They exchanged a few more brief pleasantries, before she handed off the chain, and watched as he lead the slaves off in to the crowds. She could leave now, job completed, and with enough credits to live comfortably for a few months- but she had this nagging pull. Who'd tried to get her attention? And more importantly, why?

Laux moved forward, in the direction she'd thought it came from. Just a cluster of closed tents. She slowly made her way around them, her hand hovering over the holster at her hip. "Hello?"

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

Despicable.

From his place of refuge, the Sith Lord witnessed the final exchange between the dark-haired woman and her employer. The scene which unfolded before sulfuric eyes was one of the utmost betrayal - for there were Twi’lek upon that chain. Yet here this despicable sod was, standing proud upon the homeworld of his people, about to sell them into the bonds of slavery. Darth Metus’ face contoured with disgust as the chain moved into his waiting hands. A few more words were exchanged, but he held fast. He did not make his move just yet, but rather tarried to see if his earlier ploy would yield any success.

In this, the Sith was a fisherman. He had cast out his line with a succulent slice of bait, and now he had to wait for the unsuspecting trout to wander into the hook. And, judging from the approach the woman now took, it would not be long…

Hello?

Her inquiry would seemingly fall upon empty tents. Yet the Sith coiled his fingers about his lightsaber in anticipation. The sound of her footsteps crunching upon the dusty ground caused instinct to flow hot through his veins. Closer and closer she neared. Darth Metus leaned forward ever so slightly. Now! His offhand shot forward with mighty intent - the Force immediately succumbed to his whim and fell upon the woman viciously. The telekinetic pull was mighty enough to yank a speederbike towards him in a matter of seconds: a relatively petite woman would fly to his location even faster than that.

And should his tactic succeed, [member="Eladia Laux"] would find herself face to face with the Sith. Her body would remain suspended by the Force, but the crimson blade of his lightsaber had yet to activate. He would hold the weapon up to her face, within a mere inch of her cheek - as the most basic form of threat.

”Scream, and I remove your head.” came the snarl of his voice. ”Make so much as a peep, and I remove your head.”

With that threat in the air, Darth Metus would take a bold step forward.

”Those slaves are going free today. And you are going to tell me everything I need to know to make it happen.”

”Understood?”​

 

[Eladia Laux]

No one responded to her call. It left a heavy, eerie weight to the air. She could feel herself bristle inwardly, a visceral fear- like that of an animal cornered. With each step closer to the tents, the stronger it felt- but as dread grew, so did her curiosity.

She continued.

They came from nowhere, springing out of the shadows without so much as a sound. Within moments of spotting the figure, she was thrust forward; but they would not be met without resistance. Despite the crushing force, she moved forward slowly- her feet lightly dragging against the ground. Laux didn't understand. She could barely breathe- and the more she fought this unforeseen power, the worse she felt. It was an agonizing, futile struggle, and after several long seconds, she was face to face with her attacker.

”Scream, and I remove your head.”
”Make so much as a peep, and I remove your head.”

He certainly enjoyed those four little words.”Those slaves are going free today. And you are going to tell me everything I need to know to make it happen." A broad-shouldered man, clearly muscled, standing at least a half-foot above her. That didn't stop her from meeting his spiteful gaze, however. "Understood?”

A coy grin lit her slender face; "So a threat?" her disrespectful tone more than enough to prove her point. If she could've, she would've backed away. Given herself distance; but she found herself stuck. "I would've expected more from a clearly proud Sith." With narrowed eyes, she looked over his frame once again. "Business is business, baby. My employers don't tend to look well upon rats." With a soft laugh, she spoke once more.

"Even if you scared me, and you don't, they are far more terrifying."

"Now, I need to get going, if you don't mind?" With that final statement, Laux attempted to pull away- making it no further than a step, before snapping back to her original position. Things were looking bad, but she'd gotten out of worse before.

This situation would be no different.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

This...Girl…

What the Sith Lord anticipated as an elementary maneuver - one that had been painstakingly mastered over the course of decades - became…difficult. Telekinetics was the bread and butter of his education. His Master saw fit to first tutor him in how to command the Force above all else. Yet now, his mastery of the most basic, foundational power was being resisted by a woman that felt...normal. Yes, he could feel her fear, but it was meager at best. The fear that came with the unknown. The terror that came with the shock of a surprise attack.

But as soon as her dark eyes fell upon the Sith Lord, that fear evaporated. She slowly, agonizingly slid through the air, wordlessly fighting against his Might. And as she struggled against him, an expression of sheer effort claimed his features.

And when she had spoken, he bared his teeth...Initially. For a moment, he simply allowed her to stand suspended in the air before him. His sulfuric gaze never wavered from her form. His power never wavered upon her body. Yet as he held her captive, the gears were turning in his mind. Was she surpressing her presence? Was she stronger than he realized? What was she? Who was she? He took a bold step forward. The hilt of his lightsaber would now slid across her cheek, leaving a frigid sensation in its wake.

When his finger slid over the ignition, the blood-shine blade erupted into being just below her earlobe. Her hair was not set ablaze. Her face was not marred. Her skin was left without blemish. And if she wanted to remain that way, she would have to be very, very still.

”No employer is greater than Me.”​

His response was low, like thunder rolling in the back of his throat. ”But you must not know who you are speaking to. I am no mere Sithling. You are standing upon my world, within my borders, breaching my law.” As the words formed and fell from his lips, lightning crackled between the knuckles of his saber hand. ”I am Darth Metus, Vicelord of this Confederacy. And within these borders, we flay slavers alive. We feed them to beasts of Geonosis. We send what remains back to their hovels and employers as a warning - and yet, like roaches you just keep coming back.”

”So, baby, I’ll give you this one chance to save yourself. You will aide me in freeing these slaves - and in doing so you will live. Perhaps long enough to see yourself do more than this. Or, deny me once more and your head…”

He moved the saber just a touch closer.

”Falls.”

[member="Eladia Laux"]

 

[Eladia Laux]

He was certainly dangerous. As he drew closer to her meek frame, Laux could feel it. Emanating outwards from his core. Powerful, dark, and overwhelming; but not once did she break his sulfur gaze. What drives him? a barely conscious thought, whispered from the depths of her mind. Slaves were commonly ignored. Neglected to avoid the paperwork, or the manual labor required to free them.

Laux herself a firsthand example. Another child forgotten by governments who entranced themselves with fancy gatherings, and distracted themselves with false diplomacy. Governments who had forgotten their people. Meeting someone who truly seemed to care for their well being was, well, unfathomable. Or, perhaps, it was a matter of status. If this world truly belonged to him, then preaching it as 'slave free' would certainly prove him to be some divine leader.

A divine Sith, imagine.

While hidden deep beneath an unflinching expression, he stokes the fires of hatred and rage. "I am no roach, and I am no slaver." Once hushed, her voice now boomed above the sith's. Until this point, she'd not raised her voice to him. Her remarks, if sarcastic, had been courteous, and mostly respectful. Darth Metus, however, had been the epitome of contempt. Laux's once cool chocolate gaze flickered, and darkened in her anger.

They were only ever cargo, she never harmed them, nor had she wanted to.

Something in his words drew it out of her. It started as low vibration in the ground, and slowly evolved. No longer did she struggle, in fact she moved with great ease. Laux's once trembling arms flung out, in a feeble attempt to direct whatever this strange energy was. There was an abrupt flash of searing white, erupting outwards from her center, and sending her several feet backwards. She wasn't sure what it may have done to this Metus, she was just happy to have recovered distance.

To spite the man, she refused to fight.

She dare not even draw her pistol. It was a battle she'd never win, and in doing so, she purposely neglected him the rush of victory. And - after her rather ungraceful landing - she stood once more. "I'll help you, sure." Laux scowled, dusting the rock and dirt off her once-pristine new armour. "For them. Not you." A brief pause. "They don't have a name, all I know is they run all this out of Kesh, and offered me an exorbitant amount of credits and compensation to ship their cargo."