Public Matrimony (Dark Alliance)

[Mauve du Vain]

Shadowport Hosk-240

They should have met on Nar Shaddaa. It would have been controlled. Instead, the recent outbreak of conflict had left transport between the Syndicate territories and the Sith Empire somewhat more complex than usual. They had to meet in total secrecy, in a hollowed out asteroid that had once been a lucrative mining operation and was now little more than a smuggler's waystop.

Mauve wasn't making the same mistakes twice. She came in a cloak of shell spider silk and matching top and pants - all black. Her shoes were practical spacer boots. On one hip she had a personal shield generator, on the other she had a Hapan gun of command - a gift from a new friend.

And she did not come alone. Elite syndicate enforcers, killers of the highest caliber, flanked her and Razmir Tezhyn .

Nobody paid the group any particular attention. Not in a place like that. People kept their heads down, or they lost them.

The small group entered the fuel station. Mauve nodded to the attendant, one of her informants. The Gran just nodded back to her, then pointed at a backroom.

She opened the door.

* * *

Five years ago, she opened the door to the hotel room.

"Really, Raz? Another bookie ring? I don't think this is a good idea."

Quinn Varanin | Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mauve du Vain //: Razmir Tezhyn //:
//: Attire //:

She came alone.

The message had been short and accompanied by coordinates she'd never seen before — a little smuggler's nest she wouldn't have known about without this meeting. She'd sent the information to Gerwald Lechner , her point of contact back home, the one who'd sanctioned her meeting with the Black Sun.

An alliance was always tempting, but Quinn had her doubts. She didn't exactly blend with this crowd — yet, somehow, she'd found her footing here.

The small refueling station brought back flashes of Susevfi. She'd been younger then, far more naive. Now was her chance to show the Empire she'd grown — that she was ready to lead.

She arrived just a few paces behind the small army Mauve had brought with her. Quinn suspected the Zeltron had, overnight, become one of the most wanted women in the galaxy — in more ways than one. She could understand that.

Her fingers toyed with the gold chain resting beneath her choker. She'd reshaped herself for the underworld, and for a moment, she wondered if she could ever go back to the rigid expectations of the Empire. Ashin's tactically sound advice lingered in her mind.

Pushing it aside, she ran a hand through her hair, flicking the bob from her face. It settled against the nape of her neck as she exhaled and grounded herself.

This wouldn't be like Susevfi — even if it was a trap. She trusted Mauve. The woman had shown her what she needed to see.

The attendant nodded; she was expected.

Quinn stepped into the back room, prepared for anything. Bounty hunters wouldn't have surprised her. She wasn't afraid.

Her smile was genuine when she saw the Zeltron.

"Hello, Mauve." Hands folded behind her back, she took in the room — and the number of armored bodies both women had brought.

Not just both women. There was another — one she recognized from the Kaggath. She was outnumbered. That was fine.

"Who's your associate?" She stepped forward, extending her hand.

"Princess Quinn Varanin. Pleasure to meet you."

Here, her title mattered — whether she wanted it to or not.

 

[Vreegan Fett]

Hosk-240 was a scar on the galaxy, a planetoid reclaimed by the scavengers, scoundrels, and cutthroats that infested this side of the High Republic. Vreegan had been to similar shadow ports before but this one held a particular kind of rot in the air, a mix of ozone from the machinery and the stale smell of desperation.

His current targets were a pair of fugitives from the Galactic Alliance, a Corellian Slicer named Jaxen Ryke and a Rodian smuggler named F'lo-d'lo. The bounty on them was substantial, enough to make the trip to this forgotten rock worth the trouble. The two had been on the run for weeks, leaving a trail of hacked databanks and empty cargo holds in their wake.

Vreegan's ship, a modified SFX-33 Medium Gunship dubbed the Verd'ika was docked at a makeshift landing pad, standing as a testament to the fact that someone had decided this place was worth salvaging. The former Field Marshal had left his helmet on, not wanting to breathe in the particulate matter that hung in the air.

The Mandalorian armor was a comfort, a second skin that reminded him of a time when the Crusaders were a force to be reckoned with. Now, he was just a lone wolf, hunting bounties for a living. The galaxy had changed, but some things remained the same.

"Last known sighting of my target was in the Market District, Section 1-03. Crowded space but should be ample enough to let me get a shot off without drawing to much of a crowd." He stepped off the ramp, the reinforced soles of his boots crunching on the surface.

The air was thick with the sound of generators humming, the shouts of various species haggling over scraps, and the distant hum of a freighter taking off. Hosk-240 was alive, in a morbid sort of way. And somewhere in this graveyard, his targets were hiding and a yet unknown group of individuals Mauve du Vain , Quinn Varanin who were worth far more.

 

[Mercy]

Mauve du Vain | Quinn Varanin | Razmir Tezhyn | Vreegan Fett

Mercy came in late, the introductions were already in swing, but that was just the way things went with her.

She strolled in and out on her own time. She didn't care about the rest.

"Well, well, well, three of my favorite people all in one room." Mercy drawled as she sat down on one of the crates to the side. Taking in the sight of Mauve, Quinn and Razmir all in one room. "You know, at least two of you got a big arse bounty on your head. This would probably have been safer over the HoloNet."

Then a smirk.

"But that would'a been boring, yeah?" Mercy stretched there and then shrugged. "This is better."

Being able to look each other in the eye, especially if a backstab was about to happen.

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

Unpleasantly, Skeevi was on watchdog duty, overseeing a trio of freshly cyborged henchpersons for Mercy . They'd been iterating toward a standard package and it wasn't going amazingly. Quality control issues. The new trio occupied themselves with looming, mostly, in the common spaces (fuel depot-related and secondary market) some distance from the backroom's Big Meeting. Neither Skeevi nor the fresh cyborgs were welcome in the Big Meeting, but simple backup duty had seemed like a pretty functional shakedown cruise.

The cyborgs loomed. Skeevi occupied themself going around and plugging their datapad into everyone's left ear one at a time for diagnostic purposes.

"Last known sighting of my target was in the Market District, Section 1-03. Crowded space but should be ample enough to let me get a shot off without drawing to much of a crowd." He stepped off the ramp, the reinforced soles of his boots crunching on the surface.

The air was thick with the sound of generators humming, the shouts of various species haggling over scraps, and the distant hum of a freighter taking off. Hosk-240 was alive, in a morbid sort of way.

Skeevi extracted their datapad leads from an ear and, at a shift in focus, turned to see a Mando walking by. The Mando looked deadly and important.

Skeevi decided to catcall the Mando in a vulgar way, and did so.

 

[Mercy]

Unpleasantly, Skeevi was on watchdog duty, overseeing a trio of freshly cyborged henchpersons for Mercy .

The air in the fuel depot was slick with the oily sheen of fuel exhaust. The generators were working overtime to keep things going, but little proper maintenance was being done to keep them happy. The said newly augmented henchmen were doing their utmost best impression of statues while Skeevi was pacing among them. They were smaller than them, more fragile, but Mercy had made it clear that in terms of engineering they outranked any of them by several factors.

So they couldn't do more than grit their teeth as the feral cyberdoc jabbed them with a datapad plug every once in a while. Drawing readings from their ear port, while muttering something about 'baseline readings' as if it was a holy ritual.

None of them were all that interested in the process itself. Looming however was easy.

During one of these routine checks a shadow passed along the edge of the group's vision. It was a Mandalorian. It walked with the kind of confidence only beskar could buy, knowing that you could practically throw a nuke at it and the beskar would survive. Maybe not the creature within, but that was a different question entirely.

The henchman turned cyborg (his name was Tim) currently being subjected to Skeevi's work was still processing the Mandalorian's appearance when Skeevi turned. That should have given him pause to take a quick step back. Too late, because they already let fly an obscenity so vivid and specific that the cyborg's auditory filter actually glitched.

Tim even had the decency to blush, because he wasn't sure if the words had been in Basic or some exotic dialect designed solely to start fights. He stared at Skeevi, then at the Mando, then back at Skeevi, as if trying to calculate whether this was bravery, madness, or an incredibly reckless courtship ritual.

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

"Who's your associate?" She stepped forward, extending her hand.

"Princess Quinn Varanin. Pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Princess. I go by Tezhyn these days," he bowed and took her hand to kiss it, as was customary among nobles. He'd spent too much time around them, picked up too many of their bad habits of overbearing politeness.

Overbearing politeness was the opposite of what Mercy was, however.

"Well, well, well, three of my favorite people all in one room." Mercy drawled as she sat down on one of the crates to the side. Taking in the sight of Mauve, Quinn and Razmir all in one room. "You know, at least two of you got a big arse bounty on your head. This would probably have been safer over the HoloNet."

Then a smirk.

"But that would'a been boring, yeah?" Mercy stretched there and then shrugged. "This is better."

"Boring's better left to the economics of the modestly successful. We're here to win big, hm?" Razmir smiled.

"Though, I must admit, this isn't how I imagined meeting Sith Royalty," he gave Mauve a side glance. "Inside a hollowed out rock, surrounded by an army of guards..."

"But all of us here are quite familiar with turning The Idiot into an Array⁽¹⁾, hm?"

- - -

Five years ago, Razmir admired the view from their hotel room.

"We're not involved directly. Consulting work, as contractors. Nothing that legally ties us to the operation," Razmir nudged Mauve and gave her a sly grin. He nodded to the windows, beyond which the night sky was lit up by a sprawling, neon-tinted city.

"Look at that view," he gave a more genuine smile. "I still remember when you proposed on that rooftop. The view was almost as good."

Mauve du Vain Quinn Varanin Mercy Vreegan Fett Skeevi Merrill

---

⁽¹⁾ The Idiot / The Array:
The Array is a special hand containing a card called The Idiot, worth zero, a Two of any suit, and a Three of the same suit. When laid out on the table, an Idiot's Array is read, literally, as 023, and is considered the highest hand in the game, trumping even a pure sabacc of 23.

 

[Mauve du Vain]

Mauve snorted and shook her head slightly, though her lips twinged ere so slightly upward. Razmir. Such a rake.

Array for an Idiot indeed.

"Good to see you too, Quinn."

No need for titles. Not between them, not with only Razmir and Mercy here.

"The war in the Core on top of recent developments with the Republic have made travel... difficult. Believe me, this was not my first choice of venues."

She looked to Mercy in turn, "As for you, you know I don't do business like this over the holonet. So, now that we are all here," violet eyes swung back to Quinn, "The Underlord wants a formal meeting for this alliance between the Black Sun and the Sith. I don't think you want him dictating the terms anymore than I want your Tsis'Kaar shadows getting involved. We work out the terms here, now, and we present the concept fully formed to the Dark Council and the Underlord."

Illegal crime organizations did not have formal written treaties.

They had understandings. This is what Mauve sought with the Sith.

* * *

Five years ago...

"Is that what we are calling it," she chuckled, her laughter a silvery thing, "What was it I said, 'if this works out, I'll marry you' Quite the proposal. Although, I suppose it didn't work out after all, the Corellian Job." She looked at the ring on her finger, then at the skyline stretching out through the window, "You want to take it all back?"

Razmir Tezhyn Quinn Varanin Mercy Skeevi Merrill Vreegan Fett

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //: Mauve du Vain //: Razmir Tezhyn //: Vreegan Fett //: Skeevi Merrill //:

To find the hospitality of nobility within Black Sun was not something Quinn had expected. It was a pleasant surprise, and she inclined her head in acknowledgment to Tehzyn. She hoped, in time, he might see her beyond the title — as an ally, not just a Princess.

Before she could respond, Mercy's brazen, fiery presence swept through the room.

Mercy was always Mercy. A constant Quinn could rely on — unpredictable in action, but unwavering in nature. The woman came and went as she pleased, which, perhaps, was why Ashin Cardé Varanin tolerated her so well.

The stress in Quinn's shoulders eased at the woman's loud entrance.

She hated that it did.

As the room settled, her gaze shifted to the Zeltron who addressed her by name alone. Any lingering doubts about their friendship dissolved the instant those painted velvet lips spoke it. She smiled, offering a nod in agreement.

"While the venue isn't how any of us pictured meeting, I appreciate the neutral ground. I would have offered Terminus, but neutrality serves agreements like this better."

Black Sun was different from the political machines she was used to. Embedding herself had taught her that quickly.

"Mauve is correct. She has my trust, and I'd rather conduct these talks with someone I trust." Quinn almost laughed when the Tsis'Kaar were mentioned. No one wanted them involved.

"I have the support of most of the Dark Council, and if necessary, I can answer to the Emperor and Empress for my choices. We do not want the full Council involved. The Tsis'Kaar head is a Dark Councilor."

She didn't need to say his name. Everyone here would know, and they'd understand why she wanted to keep this simple.

"I'll speak for the Empire and serve as the point of contact for any alliances. You may address those matters to your Underboss. If he wishes to meet another from the Empire, I have a short list of those I can bring to a meeting for show."

Something itched at the back of her mind. They were in Republic territory — meaning at least two of them were deep in enemy space.

"Since the Black Sun has been so accommodating to someone like me, I'll let you speak first." She had a fair idea of what they wanted — most talks with the Empire came down to the same desires. And she had a plan for that.

Still, the prickling sense of unease didn't fade.

"I do feel we have unwelcomed company on their way."

 

[Vreegan Fett]

Vreegan's path led him past a trio of enhanced henchmen ( Mercy ), whose imposing presence appeared to be a calculated effort to clear the area, which could raise suspicions. However, this was a criminal shadowport frequented by numerous crime lords, smugglers, and spice barons. It was not difficult for him to imagine them creating space for a meeting to occur.

His helmet slightly adjusted at the sound of Skeevi Merrill catcalling him from a distance, as his HUD detected subtle details. The datapad, the dark hair, and the cybernetic connection apparatus all suggested one conclusion, perhaps reached hastily: they were a modder, someone who equipped individuals with various devices.

This could prove advantageous in locating the two fugitives. He altered his course slightly, his heavy boots making no sound on the grimy ground, until he stood a few feet away from the group.

"You have a keen eye for trouble," Vreegan's voice rumbled, the vocoder in his helmet giving it a low, metallic quality. He didn't wait for a response, his attention fixed on the cyberdoc. "I'm looking for two bounties. A slicer named Jaxen Ryke and a smuggler named F'lo-d'lo. They're here, and a person with your... attention to detail... might have seen them." He pulled up a small holopad, displaying the grainy images of his targets.

The details were clear enough: a nervous twitch in the slicer's fingers, the distinctive limp of the Rodian. Vreegan held the device out, a silent invitation for the cyberdoc to look. He didn't care for the cyberdoc's personality, but he respected their presumed ability to observe. A good hunter used every tool at their disposal, even the unpleasant ones.

Quinn Varanin Mauve du Vain Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

"You have a keen eye for trouble," Vreegan's voice rumbled, the vocoder in his helmet giving it a low, metallic quality. He didn't wait for a response, his attention fixed on the cyberdoc. "I'm looking for two bounties. A slicer named Jaxen Ryke and a smuggler named F'lo-d'lo. They're here, and a person with your... attention to detail... might have seen them." He pulled up a small holopad, displaying the grainy images of his targets.

"Hey hey," said Skeevi, wondering what all those big shiny up-close Mando armor parts were called, "if I've seen'em, tell ya everything."

The cyborgs relaxed disappointedly. Skeevi wiggled in to take a look at the datapad. The Mando smelled like gun oil and opportunity.

"Righty. Twitch and Limpy look familiar, but how familiar, lessee..."

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

Skeevi blinked and looked up and pointed.

"Right there behind ya. Ten percent finder's fee, yeah?"

The market spaces erupted in blasterfire!

Vreegan Fett