Private Stellar Exchanges

[Astra Sadow]

Location: Aurora Industries Lyrandar Complex. Hakassi

Astra calmly handed her red jacket off to an aide after she'd strode down the ramp and stopped on the landing pad. Dressed in black syntex and silk, she peered down at a pad through her red glareshades. "Have the items arrayed for review in the loading bay. No one not already on board the transport, or escorted by myself is allowed to enter while they're on display." Better they not be announced for every treasure hunter to know they existed. Much as she trusted her people to keep them protected it was simply safer not to tempt the monsters out there in the first place. They were in the heart of the Core, after all; plenty of fools around to try something.

She turned her eyes up toward another transport that had lifted off and begun to power away. Another shipment to be sold elsewhere on the planet. The choice goods were brought her for a partner's pick -- if he wish -- while others were taken to be distributed to other customers. Sanguine was an interstellar enterprise, after all. Orders to take and deliver.

Without further comment, Astra strode across the open area toward the reception lobby of the complex. One attendant darted ahead to ensure the door parted just ahead of her arrival in order for their Chairwoman to glide into the facility. She only stopped before the desk with a smile on her red lips.

"Miss Sadow for Mister Lysander von Ascania ." No need to walk by the receptionists like they didn't exist, she wasn't there to start a war. Lysander could be occupied or not even in his office; better to let his people do their jobs. She was confident the facility wasn't staffed by idiots. He might not work for Aurora, but his company's ties to it were enough to settle all the paperwork and scheduling. And if it wasn't, Astra would graciously accept any refusal to host their exchange and repay that 'kindness' in full in due course.

She might not be known as a Sith Lord, but she still had the vindictiveness of one.

At least she wouldn't hold it against them if they didn't have snacks and wine for the visit. Perhaps they'd have changed their mind if they knew the sorts of things Astra intended to display for Lysander's benefit. Astra knew who ran Aurora -- by reputation and profile.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Sound arrived before sight. There was warmth woven from brass, scratching what some may consider a bygone era. Against the ears pressed headphones that served as a conduit for a Core Worlds jazz quartet. He'd found the recordings on Level 1313 some months ago. Supposedly rare. The melody curled through Lysander's mind with the same reverence held for more complex holobooks or even how he conducted negotiations.. always from beginning to end, without rushing. Nostalgia was induced too, though he refrained from examining it too closely; they were mostly memories of a a chapter right before the Covenant scorched the galaxy's map.

Inside, the office was minimalist perfection. A desk with a matte black accents. Floating holo displays hovered above its surface: production reports from Bergan Array, freight schedules, and those from the ground factories. Lysander hummed under his breath to the jazz, moving from one thing to the next. Enjoyment here didn’t carry any scent of conquest or fear. In truth, it was satisfying to just watch the gears of the galaxy turn in more predictable ways, making the Core appear a little less hostile.

Outside, orbital traffic blurred into streaks. No clutter would mar the view through the floor to ceiling transparisteel. Two Star Destroyers were parked like monoliths against the void. Perhaps they appeared as trophies, but in reality they were just more responsibilities. Those he hardly had the time for. To him, they represented thousands of people he'd most likely never meet. Engineers, pilots, maybe even families living aboard them.

The office rituals were no less disciplined than his morning regimen. A stylus rotated as datapads began clicking into place. Statistics were verified before glancing toward the gargantuan vessels again. That was, until a pulse appeared on the corner of the desk from his receptionist. Music ceased to exist as the cups were lifted, and everything from the station returned.

He inspected the collar of his charcoal three-piece suit with a lone touch. Cufflinks glinted like stars. No weapon sat upon his hip; most were aware of the lethality standing before them, and how quickly he could turn proximity into a cage should the moment call for such.

Movement toward the lobby was fluid; passage past an aid would bring a quiet hand off of a datapad, followed by a single nod acknowledging an officer. Finally, the sight of Astra and her subordinates. Any time curiosity registered before words were traded, the omens were generally more favorable. Only then did he step out into view.

"Miss Sadow," the greeting emerged with an incline of the head. "Welcome to Lyrandar."

Lysander gave the silence a moment before adding, “If there’s anything you need before we begin, you need only ask.” He’d always preferred when people stated their wants plainly. Guessing was a game, and while he could play it well enough, clarity was more efficient. Better to focus on the work instead of performance. And in his experience, the ones who knew what they wanted were always easier to deal with.

He gestured toward one of the corridors. “Otherwise, I’d be delighted to show you around.”

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra remained standing as Lysander was informed of his guest's arrival. She turned to observe the lobby after spending a few seconds taking in the people behind the desk. A good habit for someone that intended to stay alive -- always be mindful of your surroundings, and what other people were doing. Oh, yes, the Force was a useful tool, but there were dangers the Force couldn't warn you about in advance. Threats that knew how to hide in the deep places of existence. Technologies that claimed to provide refuge from its sight. In the end, survival came down to the individual -- their skills, their experiences, and above all their instincts. Even somewhere that should be considered safe could wind up your tomb.

A smile spread easily across her lips when ripples spoke of Lysander entering into view. Astra reached up to slide the glareshades a little down her slender nose so she could see the man as he was. "I would love a tour. Never hurts to take an opportunity to show people what you've accomplished." Eventually you'd even find someone that would genuinely appreciate or understand what they saw.

"Afterward, if you've the time, I put together a little something for you. Some odds and ends I thought to give you first choice." They could discuss business and event pleasure if his schedule permitted. Her's did, but then she made a point to keep her calendar open when visiting VIPs. You never knew what unexpected opportunities might arise.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Most visitors arrived with the same destination in mind. The orbital shipyards, the 'grand' spectacle. Production quotes, the delivery schedules. All vital, of course. But a guest here with other priorities? Well, Lysander noticed.

Ripples of mirth stirred his lips. "Then I'm glad you asked for the tour first." Stepping aside, a palm opened in invitation, beckoning her into his orbit. Given the nature of the Core recently, it almost felt like some old-world courtesy he'd forgotten how to wield.

The lobby's expanse echoed with the shuffling of polished boots. Cargo lifted murmured in the distance. Maintenance droids glided past; security offers were tracking elevator traffic from their stations. Time spent here had been surprisingly brief. But the facility was familiar in its own way, understood well enough. A figure crossed their path, shoulders heavy, lunch pail in hand. For most Sith, this place was just more infrastructure. For the worker, it was a paycheck, routine, humble assurance of another's days work. Through emerald eyes still clawing their way out of the Dark, it was.. respect. Unspoken, but very real.

"Aurora designed the elevator to handle the throughput from the Krona Mines," he noted as they reached the staging platform. "Ore goes up, finished hulls come down." He glanced at Astra. "You'll see the logic of it once we reach the central area. And afterward, I'll take a look at what you've brought. First choice is a rare courtesy, even for my position." Light warmed Lysander's visage. "I won't waste the privilege."

They passed into a corridor lined with holodisplays. One screen showed the elevator's traffic: cargo manifests scrolling, personnel lifts rising and falling. "Nothing glamorous," he mused, watching the progress of a lift. "But it's where things actually get built."

Rapport with Astra was still minimal, but she'd likely discover soon enough that curiosity was the Emissary's native tongue. Leaning against the railing, his weight rested comfortably on his forearms. "You've built quite a few things yourself. What part of them do you find people overlook most?"

 

[Astra Sadow]

With a meticulously cleaned, black outfit Astra blended in with the shadows more than she did the workforce soon on display. The tie carefully secured to her shirt only cemented the fact she didn't belong there at a day-to-day level. Despite that, the cream skinned woman took Lysander's guidance and allowed her gaze to sweep over all that lay before them; and especially to that which he himself pointed out. Astra wasn't there to plan a raid, but details mattered. Little details most of all when you least expected them.

The clamor of work and industry greeted her ears as much as the scent of chemicals and grease old and new. Each sharp encounter with the senses was met without flinching or strange expressions. Despite her prepared appearance, Astra didn't show signs of disgust as if unaccustomed or affronted by the work around her.

Not that she would elect to live in such a place.

"What is necessary rarely is," Astra responded when Lysander observed the work wasn't glamorous.

At his question, she turned to look over at him with a curl to her lips. "How much effort it took to build and maintain the infrastructure that enabled it. Supply chains are notoriously difficult to muck up. Any one factory is expendable, but everything that is fed into it? Prime targets. People included. Good help is hard to find."

"What is it about this facility you're proudest of?"

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Down below, another freight platform crept skyward. Up and down with endless repetition. The kind of thing that disappeared if you looked at it too long.

“I don’t think it's the shipyards,” spoken calmly while nodding toward the docks. “Or the elevator.” He shrugged invisibly. Neither answer felt like a lie; they were just incomplete. “Perhaps it’s what they count on.”

He tracked a cargo convoy disappearing into the yawning shaft, then swung back to the tiny figures working below. From this elevation, they appeared as specks crossing catwalks and service decks. But.. each person was responsible for something that only mattered to whoever needed it done. A logistics clerk trusting the manifest was correct. A pilot counting on fuel to arrive. Mines trusting the refiners. The list went on.

“Lyrandar represents something I’ve been working toward for nearly a year now, and the one thing I always come back to. Connection.” Two fingers lifted toward transparisteel in the distance, where the Bergan Array glowed, and two Star Destroyers drifted beyond it. “I put the Byss and Hoth hypergates back together to link the Order and the Covenant. Because someone had to. Someone had to stand between people who’d otherwise spend decades killing each other and say, ‘There’s another way to do this.’”

Lysander let the breath out through his nose. “Lyrandar is the same. It’s a bridge. Between Aurora and the Covenant. Between the Covenant and the Order. Between governments that would never have listened to each other if they weren’t forced to share infrastructure. So.. I’m proud of that. Just the fact that it works. Something that both sides needed. That.. they acknowledge each other as peers instead of just targets.”

The alternative could very well be losing everything. Trying to extend the same logic to the Republic was a foolish and massive undertaking. The ideological gap was too wide. Yet.. he couldn't stop from wanting to try. The hopeless side of him might even reach for that middle ground, no matter if were destined to be set on fire. A logistical fever dream of sorts.

Nodding toward the elevator, fingers brushed the railing before stepping in that direction. "True enough," murmured thoughtfully, still turning her answer over in his mind. "It’s the messy work that keeps the machine from stalling. You’re right about the supply chains.. they're the soft underbelly of the whole thing. If you want to break a government, you don't burn the palace; you cut the power and the shipments."

His eyes squinted against some of the harsh artificial lighting. "I have to ask.. when you’re looking to fill those roles, when you’re scouting for the people, what exactly are you looking for? If you had to pick only one trait."

 

[Astra Sadow]

"Romantic," Astra said quietly after Lysander described the 'connection' forged between governments. The man had a romantic view of the galaxy and the Sith. Not a foolishly romantic one -- Lysander wasn't running around spouting nonsense like free-love or whatever Jedi did. Astra, on the other hand, didn't see such bonds lasting any longer than one side considered the other useful. The second the use was expended and they became a liability... Well, she was a touch jaded on the subject, personally.

Personal feelings aside, she replied at a normal volume, "Not an easy thing to build. Very few even stood a chance at trying. Nicely done." Whether it stood the test of time or not would not invalidate Lysander's efforts to date.

A slight nod accompanied his ruminations on worth and the supply chain. Military targets were relatively easy to find and politically safe to strike if things turned kinetic. They weren't the most effective means at crippling a society, however. Astra always expected her enemies to come at her with everything they had, so she expected scorched earth warfare. Cripple the infrastructure, sow chaos, and annihilate resistance. It was what she would do... just without using a fleet of Star Destroyers or an army of Sith Warriors.

Lysander then posited a curious question. Man always did seem to want to ferret out how best to rebuild a prosperous galaxy rather than leave it to the chaos it so often devolved into. Astra peered over at her from the corner of her eye before she looked forward once more. A single trait? A difficult ask. "Dedication." She looked over at Lysander once more. "Not to me, but the cause. Something larger than any one person, or even a group of people. Something that cannot be killed with blind luck or a single bomb. An idea that guides every action. Informs every choice. Keeps them focused."

With a soft chuckle, Astra turned slightly in his direction with a smirk. "Most value Loyalty. Obedience. They'd consider that 'dedication' and they would be wrong. I've studied our ideological enemies, Lysander, and a quality of theirs I find no shame in using as my own is to instill a sense of something greater than themselves in those that follow me." There was a reason the Jedi persisted after countless generations. Or the Mandalorians for that matter. It was something Sith so often lacked. Not all, of course; some modern Lords had taken to fashioning entire worlds around ideals... Though Astra wondered whether they truly would survive the death of their present leader? Only time would tell.

"Why do you ask?" she asked in response without looking away. The smile returned as she awaited his answer.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

The diagnosis Astra leveled at him was a mirror catching the light; the smile grazing one corner was the unintentional confession. Plenty of worse things to be labeled. Maybe he had been too transparent. Watching planets turn to ash also did that; it turned the nihilism of youth into the pragmatic cooperation of someone who realized that building was a more favorable weapon than pointless destruction.

When silence did stretch, at least it wasn't awkward. More like space to marshal thoughts. Praise wasn't something he'd ever grown particularly comfortable receiving, which might've explained why the tongue was left dry.

"I'll take that," a nearly boyish lilt finally slipped free. Building the bridge was more important than its longevity. A personal challenge even. Scholars of the Dark insisted peace was a lie.. but even temporary, it could buy you another morning.

A hum left him as Astra's answer settled. It was the antithesis of a doctrine he'd spent years weaponizing.. but still clicked into place. "Dedication is harder to corrupt. To bribe, to break." Admiration bloomed for the fanatics who would sooner burn than bow. It was a terrifying, beautiful trait, even when aimed at the wrong stars. The woman's answer also tapped the philosophical side of his mind, tempting him to overindulge.

"Connection convinces people to meet, but dedication.. it's what convinces them to build something together." There was a dark flicker of irony crossing his consciousness then. The alliance between the Sith was already destined for the pyre.

Astra's smirk drew all attention back to her. "I'm not sure the Jedi would fancy being footnoted in a Sith lecture," quipped with a dry edge.

Brows would furrow; the last question was as inviting as it was disarming. "I could say," the response began with a candid sigh, "because I find people far more interesting than governments. Leaders usually cling to a single trait as their backbone; it's a little more exciting to dissect personal complexities than polices." Live subjects over marble statues, of course. "And because your answers determine exactly how much risk goes into sharing my own playbook." To understand the price of an ally..

"You know.. you are allowed to tell me no every now and then. I have a knack of making conversations sound more like an interview." A half-turn of his own was made with a tilted chin. "I trust you'll warn me should the questions become tiresome."

The elevator's base was just ahead; there was no intention of descending. The view from where they stood was sufficient.

 

[Astra Sadow]

Governments were made of people, but an aggregate sum of countless discussions, arguments, and concessions that said little of any one person or why they'd taken the actions they had. Lysander wanted to know the root motivations and thought processes that went to it. Just to understand them, or to discern how to manipulate? Influence, in other words, but as they were Dark Side users people would use the word 'manipulate.' Who ever heard of a persuasive Sith, after all? Discounting threat of force. It would shock some Jedi to learn a Sith could be persuasive... there just weren't many that bothered.

"I rarely converse with people about such things. They often want to know how I make credits or acquire rare goods, bypass local bureaucracy and remain undetected. Operational matters. Not topics like leadership style and ultimate objective. I think it would do the Core a disservice if I didn't respond to your interest in such things." Astra chuckled to herself. "And I don't feel being honest about them puts my operation at risk."

"Now, if I'd said 'blind loyalty' as my defining quality in subordinates, I'd be forced to contemplate how that could be used against me. People often hold such loyalty based on a romanticized version of the person they idealize. If you can shake it, even a little, it opens the door to corruption. To help an insider justify 'looking into' something; and once that happens it's a slippery slope of increasing disloyal activity." Which she wouldn't bore Lysander by pointing out the obvious. So many Lords shared in this problem with their legions of nameless, faceless, technically-loyal drones scattered about the galaxy.

Astra reached over to touch Lysander's upper arm with a smile on her lips. "You'll know when I'm not inclined to answer a question." Such statements always were best left open to interpretation. Her normal response, however, was none at all. Don't engage. Don't give it the recognition of even having been asked. Silence was an awkward leash pull for those that strayed out of line, and just as effective as yelling at people -- sometimes more so.

"Lysander," her hand remain on his arm unless he shrugged it off, "why do you do it? Draw factions together. Seek to create infrastructure to strengthen the day-to-day function within The Core... or the Covenant?" A dangerous suggestion that it wasn't already well-defined back where it had originated. "I don't question its validity, or the boons that would come from a unified faction. But, like I said, so few would ever stand a chance among the few already that would ever bother." There was something deeper than 'because it was the right thing to do.' Strategically speaking it was an obvious play, but that didn't mean it was commonly applied. There had to be something personal driving it. It spurred him to action where others were content to exploit a corrupt or broken system.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Lysander found himself unsurprised to hear most wanted to borrow influence, wealth, or even the woman's network. Personal blueprints rarely excited interest. In recent times, he'd spent most of his time sitting across tables where everyone wanted terms before understanding intent which was an expected trait in high-stakes Sith dealings, but equally exhausting.

"I do appreciate the invitation to speak on something beyond dry logistics. We both know systems rest on more than spreadsheets." Not everybody could set aside the small stuff to chase what really motivated people. "So, I owe you the same respect. If we stick to routes and profit margins, we'll both miss the real questions."

His hands spread as though opening a door. "Imagine, if you will, a council bound not by blind loyalty to a single power but by collective reason and measured risk. Chairs earned through merit rather than blind devotion. Should doubts arise, and they always do.. they'd surface as debate instead of betrayal. We'd still need protocol, oversight, accountability.. but these would serve as guardrails." Though he didn't voice it, he would've welcomed Astra's thoughts on designing that kind of forum; he suspected she might even relish in dismantling the countless pitfalls. Enough fuel there for a long afternoon of discussion.

Mirth found him again, carried out with a gentle laugh. "I had a feeling that was the case." Less a revelation than the confirmation of a suspicion he'd been nurturing throughout their walk. Applause was among the poorest of motivators, but recognition from a discerning mind... well, that was something that held lasting value, especially within the Dark's ranks.

The muscles along an arm softening beneath the touch. Steps would slow, overtaken by the view, even if the grand elevator was nearly rendered irrelevant now. The Emissary was, admittedly, curious to see what she'd brought to Lyrsandar; then again, worthwhile conversations carried a habit of rewarding those who didn't rush them.

"Much of my desires once traced back behind the Black Wall. The Order had talent, resources, and people capable of extraordinary things. I wanted to bring them into the Core, to give them something worth investing in rather than standing apart from it. At the time, I treated it as another campaign.. an impossible objective someone ought to attempt." Shame that the Core's Great Kingdom was a brittle plaything for its rulers who confused ego for effectiveness. Pride was surely a wretched teacher, and present everywhere he looked lately; perhaps one reason for his prolonged absence from Coruscant ever since Humbarine was attacked.

Lysander's gaze met the wall of her glareshades. "And part of me simply wanted to build something no other faction could realistically challenge." He couldn't remember the last time someone tried to 'bridge' the chasm between public ambition and his own private ghosts. "Somewhere along the way, the real challenge stopped being the factions. It became the people." The list of reasons was longer still, none of them simple.