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.

 

[Astra Sadow]

Not everyone deserved the consideration she afforded Lysander, but as they'd established not everyone asked for it. Well, their partnership ran deeper than mere happenstance. Why not indulge his pursuit? Astra didn't mind something different.

She smiled even when he began to speak of a meritocratic council. There it was again, his romanticism. Not that she found the idea revolting. No, such a thing for governance would be quite effective. The concept, of course, sounded almost antithetical to how Sith governments turned out historically. Though the Order wasn't doing too badly given they weren't above standard fare in some respects. "Devotion to an ideal," Astra echoed once more. "People possessing that and the respect of a multitude to make it manifest." All built before the current reigning powers knew the threat existed -- before they sought to crush it. No small order.

But why, Astra wondered? Lysander hadn't spoke of the thing that had motivated him in the beginning. Perhaps she would ask again later then. Being too insistent might only reveal he wasn't ready to speak of it any more than Astra had divulged her own story yet.

At a higher level, he simply wanted the achievement of having managed the impossible. Why not? Some thought to find the secret to immortality as a way to leave their mark. Lysander wanted to establish an enduring Dark Empire instead. "It's always the people, in the end. Everyone wants something and if you can provide it they can steer entire factions how you wish." The problem came when what the other people wanted was something you couldn't afford to trade -- an entire planet, or your own life, for example. Unreasonable demands from unreasonable people.

"Will you join me in the hanger bay, Lysander? Perhaps some of the things I've brought will prove of use to you." Perhaps they would help alleviate some of the mood that'd fallen over him reflecting on the trials and tribulations of governance.

A light hearted chuckle followed suit. "I'm surprised you didn't try to bridge the gap between Jedi and Sith, if you wanted the impossible. Light and Dark living together. Can you imagine what outsiders would think of it? How they would panic." No, not a Gray faction of people that couldn't quite decide what they were, but one where the two somehow managed to strike a balance. A genuine coexistence and acceptance of one another as equals; their power directed to manifesting a united will. Terrifying prospect for those that felt threatened by their very existence.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Noteworthy was that Astra never rushed toward conclusions or just echoed his viewpoints. A rare gift. Some Sith might misread curiosity for weakness, after all. Her display of power and control back on Empress Teta had been impressive, but there was still another enigma which clung to her.

Offering another look over the shared view, fingertips drifted along the railing again. A few doubts hissed in the back of the mind, but daily gratitude was a practice, and this moment was a good checkpoint for that. Some things were beyond his grasp. Well, for now, lest passivity settle too deeply.

Turning back, Lysander dipped his chin in invitation. Astra certainly left the mind far busier than the tongue. "Alright, I'm intrigued.. every institution believes itself immune to corruption at birth. Where would you place the safeguards? How do you stop passion from becoming dogma?" More a thought experiment. Neither of them was likely to leave Lyrandar having solved the oldest problems of governance.

A small smile edged back into being. "We'll save that puzzle for another walk; otherwise, I suspect we'd still be debating it by day's end."

Her comment on people afforded a nod. Beyond sentient nature, dilemmas of trust, forgiveness, compromise, leadership bore their own cost; navigating each was a different kind of thorn. Something he'd only begun to slowly understand better in the past year. "True. Though eventually you reach the point where you can't give everyone what they want. That's when trust becomes more valuable." Admittedly, he felt a little guilty; Lysander believed he was beginning to solely explore his own origins.

Fingers then sought one another behind the spine, weaving into a loose knot. Boots began pivoting against the floor, keeping his focus fixed on her presence. "Consider that invitation accepted, Astra."

Steps began retracing the corridor. "Convene Jedi and Sith at a dinner party? I'd certainly charge extra for the entertainment value. But in all seriousness, the Force rarely reads our rulebooks. Maybe the strangest alliances can be born when we stop minding the labels so much." He entertained the thought for a moment longer before a chuckle answered hers in kind, then a gentle elbow nudge capped the moment. "Careful now, you're going to get us both branded as radicals." Not like stranger ideas hadn't crossed his mind before.

His attention eased forward. "How have our efforts on Brentaal fared?"

 

[Astra Sadow]

Everyone thought they were immune to corruption. Corruption was a subjective point of view. Heretical. Outrageous. A perversion of ideals into a new hierarchy of power. And Lysander wanted to know how she would stave it off. Astra smiled for a moment. "Everyone wants an answer to that question. Most people will give you one. Here's mine: You don't." Her burnt gaze met his eyes unabashedly in spite of the content of her words. "If the corruption comes from within the highest level, violence is inevitable. Whether the institution survives depends on too many variables. And you can't stop someone from going mad, Lysander. Protect against it. Avoid it. Delay it. But sometimes, no matter how good the defense, things simply... happen."

"Something more applicable, perhaps? If you surround yourself with people you would trust even in pit of madness, they can tell you when you've gone too far afield. Work to uncover and eradicate the cause if it's external. As we already established, everything depends on People." Astra didn't want to be accused of avoiding giving him a proper answer, after all. So, there it was. The best a woman or man could ask for. A shot in the dark should things go wrong -- which was better than nothing.

"But, yes, let's save delving into that cesspit for later," Astra greed with a smirk. After all, there was so much more to say on the subject.

Which was also true when it came to pleasing everyone. Astra didn't respond on that note. She'd be more than happy to, but Lysander already seemed to understand. He didn't need her to tell him whether everyone got what they wanted or not didn't matter.

The duo began to make their way back along the corridor. The tour had been quite informative; even if more so for what Lysander said rather than what she'd seen. Enjoyable all the same.

Astra lowered her chin and peered over the tops of her glasses as Lysander at the nudge. "I've been called worse before. Besides, I have the benefit of being The Outsider. The Jester to the Court. What threat could I possibly pose to such powerful people? And if they still believed me something to erase," she paused to smile. "I don't mind a skirmish."

"Brentaal is on schedule. Pieces are placed on the board. Key positions are secured." If Lysander wanted details she could have a report delivered to him if he wished to check on matters personally. Sanguine was many things, but a con-job was not one of them. Customers expected results, and Astra delivered.

Lysander's access would carry them back through the facility, but Astra would direct him to the hanger in question as they moved. "Speaking of business, any thoughts on Humbarine?" They hadn't had a chance to talk at length about such things in channels not easily monitored. Astra was curious of his take on those... unforeseen circumstances. Always with the Mandalorians.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

For nearly three years, Sith doctrine hammered into Lysander that they alone imposed order on the galaxy, that one must build a structure of iron and dogma rigid enough to restrain the weak. Astra dismantled that notion almost instantly. Tracing the contours of her philosophy revealed more fractures in his conditioning. Flaws a former master might have glossed over in arrogance. Not necessarily a dizzying realization, but enough to surely coil in the corners of his mind for days to come.

He met the woman's look with a sidelong glance, one that didn't slow his stride. There was more irony to the title that wasn't lost on him. Hailing from Ukatis, where they held onto traditions most of the galaxy long abandoned, the title hit a little harder than she likely intended. Sure, they had painted smiles, but their wit stood the only soul capable of speaking truths that generals could only dare dream to voice.

"The Jester gets the only free pass to speak the truth without some armor of pretense," stated calmly. Another piece clicked into place; she had freedom even he couldn't claim. "They tend to have a longer shelf life than most kings, I suspect." Of course it was true. He'd assassinated the former king of Ukatis himself, back when the Order scourged his homeworld.

Emerald irises hardened like sunlit glass. "You're right to treat it with a bit of sport. Anything less would be a disservice to the stakes. Perhaps one day you'll allow me the honor of crossing blades with you."

Further ahead, the reception hall emerged once more. Staff continued about their work. "Then I won't fuss over every square of the board." Trust rarely flowed among Sith; few ever breached his inner circle. Astra intrigued him, certainly. Whether that spark would turn into trust, time alone would say.

Memories of Humbarine still left a bitter aftertaste. "You poured effort into that project because we believed it could become something more than another conquered world. Yet the vision was set aside for a quicker fix. A seat was filled rather than needed." Tension gathered beneath his cheekbone. "For that.. I owe you an apology." Reflections here struck as strange, given he'd once planned to make a bid for one of the Dark Councilors as well. In the end, he imagined the Covenant sacrificed that investment too.

"I should've looped you in sooner. If you'll grant me another afternoon, I'd like to revisit Humbarine properly. You deserve to see where my thoughts stood."

A deeper breath escaped those lungs, prompting lips to tilt upward; bitterness would have no place between them today. Or so was the desirable outcome. As the hangar came into view, marking the end of the journey, he turned to face her.

 

[Astra Sadow]

Authority demanded responsibility. Expectations and demands were placed on such people. By their peers. By their subordinates to maintain order -- another topic they'd once discussed. Astra had no authority in the Covenant. None but what her dealings with Lysander and those like him provided. Well, and those she took without people knowing. Just because a good part of Sanguine was committed to this handsome man's quest did not mean the entirety of her Enterprise had devoted itself to him, and behaving in its best behavior. Some acts still necessitated criminal activity. Most of it better Lysander was unaware happened. Plausible deniability and all that.

No authority, no responsibility, and no expectations by people like Mercy. Aside those that Astra entered into with the Empress directly, of course.

Red lips parted slightly as she looked over at the man at her side. A gloved hand reached up to draw her shades down her nose. "Perhaps." The exhilaration of battle. Yes, Astra ached for it at times. There was nothing else like it. Carnal indulgences. Booze. Orbital drops. None of them could replace the adrenaline, the bloodlust, and the unpredictability of victory or defeat that came with combat. He wouldn't hold back, would he? There wouldn't be any reason for them to 'take it easy' if they indulged themselves.

She slowly pushed the glareshades back up her nose with a smile firmly affixed to her lips.

Then there was Humbarine. Things had not gone as anticipated. In more ways than she'd known it would seem. The smile softened and then faded at the news. Unfortunate. Well, sometimes plans didn't turn out the way they expected. They'd adjust.

"I'm at your disposal," Astra replied kindly. She very much would like to know his thoughts.

As they strode into the hanger, Lysander would find several tables setup twenty feet from the loading ramp of a vessel parked there. Various men and women stood around the perimeter armed with rifles. Their eyes quickly away as suddenly as they'd turned toward the pair as they entered. With Astra present they assumed the man was Lysander and expected to be there; their job was to make sure anyone else didn't intrude. After all, he'd need a few moments to peruse the items on the tables.

Astra continued to walk toward the layout until she drew near one end of the u-shaped arrangement. If Lysander chose he could stand where the fourth edge of the square should be and have full view of everything on display; otherwise it would be easy to examine them up close and even refer back to other items with ease no matter where he stood.

"I have a number of archaeological digs and trade partners in search of objects of... rare antiquity. They'd all kind enough to exchange them for Sanguine's continued support and contributions." Astra slowly picked up a small black pyramid with a faint glow of red from its center. "Very particular objects. Some of them could be considered little more than memorabilia -- things that invoke a sense of nostalgia. Others are exceptionally powerful in their own right, and in the right hands."

"We haven't discussed your personal interests, or how such curiosities might play to your own enterprise, but given our growing relation I thought of you when this latest collection was assembled." Not everyone searched for artifacts of power or lost knowledge. Astra wouldn't know where Lysander's interests stood until she presented him an opportunity such as this, however. "Of course, if your interests are of a more... animated nature, they have been known to come into my possession as well." Unlike some, she had no reservations about enslaving people or selling them as a good or service. Not that she'd use the word 'slave,' of course. There were some even among the Sith that didn't like that term. If the shoe fit...

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow
​

Astra's sentinels had a way of turning the space before him into a fortress of secrets. Lysander stepped to the open edge as the scene settled around him. Never having been much of a collector, the rows of trinkets and whatnot were alien in many ways, a luxury of time Lysander never possessed. Mornings arrived already spoken for, evenings the same, and whatever fell in between belonged to something operational. Every spare hour was swallowed, disciplined to the point of austerity.

Her thoughtfulness of the assemblage was staggering. Which, in hindsight, made the Humbarine delivery rather graceless on his part. Analytical circuits, ever restless, hungered to dissect the deeper motive, too. Being 'at his disposal' was generous enough to leave borders undrawn.

If these items held true worth, any rational practitioner of the Dark worth their salt would hoard such prizes out of ego. Or for some display of dominance. Greed, after all, was the natural predator of the Sith.

The holocron in Astra's hand demanded his focus for a moment. Across from him, Lysander leaned in, plucking one of the smaller relics into grasp, lifting it just inches to inspect under light. With a look of indifference, he set it back. "What made you think I'd be the right audience for these?" Words slipped out conversationally.

Maybe his unquenchable thirst for knowledge was far less shielded than previously assumed, extending beyond courts and backchannels alike. His visit to Empress Teta turned out to be a not so guarded performance in the end.

Ridges pressed into the bridge of his nose at the mention of the "animated" curiosities. The implication flirted on the monstrous. "You deal in people as easily as artifacts, then." Bold of her, really; the Core's laws made that a dangerous admission, but he wasn't exactly the type of man who ran to authorities. There were a few questions that wouldn't surface today, and her ethics sat near the top of that list.

His shoes dragged slowly against the floor as a new vantage point was sought. "How about the Republic's founding charters," wry, almost offhand, followed quickly by, "Tapani noble heirlooms.. ancient training swords.."

Fingers tapped along the table's edge; perhaps this Queen, with her dark web of influence, had already stumbled upon the surest path to his attention. An intellectual feast, one that might leave him with a taste for something entirely new. Even someone of his position and ambition could easily grow stagnant.

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra slowly set the pyramid down and began to carefully make her way along the other side of the table. She'd given the item a little space in case Lysander didn't want to see too eager with her nearby. "You're intellectual, Lysander. Intellectual people understand the worth of things. Their utility, certainly, but there is more than mere utility in artifacts lost to time. Knowledge can be found engraved on statues or tablets in dead languages, or High Sith, for example." Not every Dark Sider practitioner bothered to learn Sith let alone High Sith. Fools that thought power had to be spoon fed to them overlooked so many ways of obtaining power.

Perhaps Lysander would enjoy items that didn't so much have a single marking on them. Perhaps he was a man that could appreciate just how old something was and want a piece of history for their self? "Thousands of years of history. Much of it ground to dust, but slivers remain. Long fallen Empires. Orders made of some of the most powerful Force users that have ever lived. Just possessing certain artifacts can drive people mad at their sight." There was nothing wrong with showmanship. A demonstration of your influence or wealth to remind people where you stood in the galaxy. You didn't even need to call attention to it -- it was its own, silent message and messenger.

His reply to her off-handed comment only caused her smile to widen. "Animals. Beasts. Horrors to keep you up at night," Astra added with the same casual tone she'd had when suggesting slaves could be acquired if he had need. Animals were animated creatures weren't they? So, now someone with a moral edge had to ask their self... had she really suggested enslaved persons? Those with no morals wouldn't have a problem inquiring further as to what might be found. And so the merchant danced across the glass floor.

"Republic founding charters? Could you be more specific? There have been several." The High Republic of this decade, for example. Or was he interested in the Old Republic? Some would say the 'Original' Republic... if you ignored some rather turbulent times when one could argue the Republic reformed under the same ideals, but in different forms. Which version of the charter would he like?

Astra calmly made her way down the line until she stopped. She reached up to remove the decorative (and protective) lenses from her nose and slip them away in a pocket; all the while she contemplated a certain item within her reach. At last, she reached over to carefully pick up a broach which she set in the palm of her hand. "Four-thousand year old amulet. Look carefully at the craftsmanship. The way the metal was curled and joined together without a seam. Resistant to weathering." What she didn't say was that Lysander might recognize the design as hailing from Ukatis.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

The trail he'd left since leaving Empress Teta was evidently impossible to scrub; he accepted this with a shrug. In the public's eye, he was the Covenant's Emissary, or a businessman. He certainly wasn't the kind prone to zoning out, fascinted by craftsmanship of some forgotten pedestal.

"So you've been profiling me." Lysander’s words carried little accusation. If anything, they were lined with amusement. She hadn’t mentioned anything about price yet; for all he knew, it could even be flattery to see if he was gullible enough to pay a premium price just because it was old. A matter of perspective, but there were also many important secrets usually hidden in plain sight; they were just overlooked by so many.

“You’ll have to point out the practical benefits themselves rather than just the history.” Thoughtful fingers traced the edge of display once more. "Or is this less about the artifact.. and more about what possessing it says about the person who does?"

One ambiguous sentence, and suddenly the next move belonged to Lysander. The entertaining part was finally catching the move and wanting to play anyway. Apparently, merchants weren't so terrible after all.

“I like when people leave the door half open,” delivered with a genuine mirth. Nothing wrong with pointing out the obvious at times. "Humor me. Suppose I'd asked about the horrors then. What would have that said about me? Would I be a man of intrigue, or an open book?" Having access to rare assets was an advantage that made for successful partnerships, that much he understood; but he wasn't about to inquire for a catalog.

When the barrier dropped, he angled himself into Astra's line of sight, examining her irises. "I mean the original charters from the Republic's founding, before successive reforms began reshaping the legislation. The documents establishing the earliest jurisdictional boundaries of the Core Worlds. As I understand it, there were several revisions over the centuries. Naturally, but I'm more interested in the oldest surviving copies. You'd save me a considerable amount of searching."

For a time, he studied the amulet. Only then did he realize the quiet had stretched on, hanging there far past the moment he probably should've answered. "You have a flair for the dramatic too, don’t you?" The designs were familiar enough. Still, he wondered if this was a pivot, or a means of distracting him from the charters. Unlikely, but he'd learned to trust his instincts. A hand extended outward. "You’re good, Astra, but if you want me to commit to this, I need to see if it’s an.. artifact or, just a very expensive desk ornament."

Testing was a reflex for Lysander; sometimes, it was the only way he knew how to dance. Their entire rapport felt forged in these skirmishes. “Offer me something you wouldn’t show anyone else.“ A little audacious, but hardly without reason.

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra's brow raised a hair, but she gave no reply to the accusation of profiling him.

A tip of the head. A smile. Ownership did say something about the owner. Sometimes it was meant to convey more to those that gazed upon it, but even that spoke of intent and character. Everything could be read into because everything had a cause -- a motivation for having happened. Even something done without thought still came from somewhere; a life of experience influenced whether a person did or did not take an action. The hard part was knowing when the motivation mattered; when you could count on the reading to apply predictably.

"Nothing, in isolation, means much, Lysander. But you? Not sadism. You wouldn't want a Horror to set it loose on the galaxy because it would amuse you. Though you might keep it somewhere safe. Private. Perhaps you'd find a use for it." Like those Xenos he'd kept.

Their eyes met as the man made a conscious effort to gaze into her burnt, golden portals. They were clear as polished amber. They didn't glow with ethereal energy, but the muscles of her iris kept fine control over the pupil and held the object of her attention in perfect focus.

"Documents that old would define the word 'fragile,' Lysander. Are you professionally trained in handling such a thing? If they weren't perfectly preserved they'd like turn to dust the moment they were touched." The original charters of the Republic's founding? Well, the man certainly had a flair for the dramatic. Quite the challenge he put before her. After who knew how many wars it was unlikely any charter remained in its original storage location; they would have needed to been relocated countless times. Likely lost at some point and believed destroyed across time.

"I did say you were an Intellectual, Lysander, but I am curious why you'd want the actual charters before the modifications." Electronic copies -- even if not of versions that old -- existed of the charter. Why would the revisions matter? Why the actual documents?

A quiet laugh behind closed lips followed Lysander's accusation of her being dramatic. "A woman finds her enjoyment as she can." She held his gaze for a moment when he suggested a historical bauble wouldn't do by itself. Hard customer. Carefully, she set the amulet down on his side of the table before straightening up once more.

"Just a moment."

Astra turned and strode off to the left and toward the ship parked nearby. She stopped short of the ramp and provided instructions to one of the watchmen at the base of the ramp. It'd take a minute for them to disappear inside the ship and return with a small box, which they handed over to the Chairwoman.

One hand below, one on top, she turned and made her way back over to the table. One of the watchmen followed beside her. The armored warrior didn't even exchange any furtive glances at Lysander; they set to work moving various items aside to clear room from one side of the table to the other.

As she opened the box, Astra began to speak, "Are you familiar with the history of Tython, Lysander?" She didn't look up to gauge his response, her attention was on the contents which she reached inside to retrieve with carefully controlled movements. "History beyond all remembrance. It was old by the time the Je'daii first set foot on Tython." A carefully sculpted model of a ziggurat was placed atop the table between them. Only when it was set down did her eyes lift to regard his expression.

"The Kwa. The Gree. And those that came Before." Astra lifted one hand and slowly set the tips of her fingers down on precise points on all four sides of the ziggurat sculpture. Without lifting her hand, she began to move the model. So it seemed for a split second. Where once there was a single ziggurat, suddenly a second appeared. Not smaller than the first. Not extracted the first. It simply was. Two joined together by an increasingly smaller connection until they were two. First to the West. Then it duplicated again to the North. Her fingers guided the ziggurats from where they stopped to their next placement. The East. And then, finally, The South, nearest herself. Only then did she lift her fingers.

A second later an image flickered into existence. There were similarities to a holographic projection, but this one had color fidelity and a clarity unlike any modern projector. A planet spun above the central ziggurat; its landmasses were not of a shape that matched any known world today.

A ghost of a smile touched her lips, but that was the extent she'd show; her eyes were hard and stared at Lysander eager to know his thoughts before she continued.

Lysander von Ascania​