Private Surprise Negotiations!

[Arette]

Tasha Vess was beginning to suspect that she had, perhaps, bitten off more than she could chew. Raiding a Jedi Enclave while lead by a bloodthirsty, cocksure, borderline-unhinged Sith had seemed like a reasonable enough idea a week ago - Jutrand had already fallen to the resurgent Sith, after all, so why shouldn't she enrich herself? Jedi Temples had all sorts of valuable chit in them. Probably. She'd assumed, anyways. Tasha would even, if pressed, admit to admiring the way the Sith she'd tagged along with cleaved her way through a line of guns with seemingly no effort. Hell, she might even admit that she'd had fun, if you played loose with definitions. Taking potshots at security officers while a space magician with a plasma sword chopped people in half? That was one thing. It became something else entirely when that same space magician limped up to you with a hole in her stomach and a severed head tied to her belt and said "With me, kid. We've got places to be." It became markedly worse when said woman shortly thereafter shot your former employer in the face point-blank with a slugthrower, commandeered one of his courier vessels, and appointed you pilot of the Astral Huntress.

That said, all things considered, Tasha'd had worse gigs. Sure, this one didn't pay, but she got first mate's cabin on the ship, the rest of the (equally conscripted) crew seemed friendly enough, and this was bound to be more exciting than hauling freight from one backwater to another for the next decade. Plus, the ship. Oh, this ship had potential. A Maji Ironworks Mynock-Class Freighter, she was already nippy. With some engine tuning and upgrades to the deflectors, this little beauty could be a fantastic blockade runner. With any luck, they'd get a new hyperdrive, too; this trip took longer than it should've.

Well, that was what they were there for, apparently.

Arette's eyes snapped open as she felt the gentle lurch of a ship re-entering realspace, the noxious sulfur of her irises bleeding back to slate grey as her meditation ended. Comms began to crackle as she stood up, right on cue.

<Approaching destination, Commander. We'll hit atmosphere in...two minutes, give or take.> There was a pause, as a stream of barely-intelligible binary interruped the pilot. <Em's saying we tripped some alerts planet-side when we hit realspace. You, uh. You let whoever we're here for know we're coming, right, Ma'am?>

The self-appointed Knight didn't answer immediately. First, she gently placed the polished skull she'd been cradling in her hands back on its pedestal, positioned adjacent to the lightsaber the skull's former inhabitant once wielded. Then she grinned, rapping the comms switch on the wall with her knuckle as she strolled out of her chambers.

"A Sith announces herself to her peers, Vess, not her peers' favorite pet philosopher. Of course I didn't bother."

There were a few heavy, silent seconds before the response came, this time ship-wide, as the Astral Huntress began to enter atmosphere.

<Force fething damn it...Everyone, brace at battle stations, just in case. I'm going to try and send a message through to the destination so we don't get shot out of the sky.>

Sharan Maevel

 

[Sharan Maevel]

"It is a shame, really."

A beaten, broken man sat on his knees before Sharan's desk. He had been dragged into the chamber in this state. The two responsible stood behind Sharan, who was still seated. A deeply disappointed sigh escaped her lips as she shook her head.

"You had promise. I had faith in you. Out of anyone, you were among the last I expected to do something like this."

The man did not respond. Silence pervaded the chamber for a while, until it was interrupted by the clicking of her heels as Sharan went to stand and walked over to the object of her disapproval. "Going directly against Bogan's chosen... the line between bravery and stupidity is so very thin."

Her pale hand reached out to cup his chin, lifting his head upwards to look him in the eye. "It's what I feared, my Bryn. I see no redemption," she told him in a solemn tone. In response, one of the two Sith who had brought him here walked over and presented an ornate hilt to her master. This lightsaber was clearly not meant to see use in true combat.

"Thank you, my dear," Sharan said as she took it. She let go of Bryn's chin and took a step back, then outstretched her arm. With a snap-hiss a crimson blade erupted from the hilt. A moment later, a flourish of crimson separated the head from the man's shoulders. The blade retracted back into the hilt and was handed back.

Then, the holoreceiver on the desk sprung to life.

"Milady, an unauthorized vessel entered realspace near the estate- Erm, I was just informed we have received a message from the vessel. What is your command?"

"Sith need to relearn manners... patch it through to me." Unbelievably, this was the second time this had happened. Though there was no evidence to this, Sharan was quite certain of the status of the one in charge of the unknown vessel.

"Of course, milady." The holoreceiver went dim again as Sharan awaited the connection to be established. In the meantime, her servants began dealing with the body.

Arette​

 

[Arette]

The connection patched itself through swiftly, and Sharan found herself face to hologram with a tall woman standing in a plainly adorned room. Dressed in simple black fatigues and coat and with a slender metallic cylinder hanging at her waist, this uninvited guest was, unmistakably, a Sith, just as Sharan had guessed.

The lower half of the Sith's face was obscured by a respirator, but her eyes gave away that she was smiling.

"Sharan Maeval," The woman began, pacing to the side. The Holocam trailed after her, lingering very briefly upon the skull of a rodian, placed upon a pedestal that the Sith had been obscuring with her form.

<This is the Astral Huntress, requesting permission to parley.>

​

Back aboard the Huntress, Arette was, at least in her estimation, doing a passing job at hiding her utter disdain for this woman.

"You have influence and connections, and I need materials, armorers, and shipwrights. You trade in favors, unless I've been lied to? If you can aid me in outfitting my crew, we'll kill whoever you want. So long as you don't expect me to pull a hit on the Silver Council or the Federal Assembly." To the point. Polite, but terse. Probably not how Sharan preferred to be treated, but Arette was at least extending the courtesy of not treating the woman like dirt.

Perhaps it wasn't quite accurate to say that Arette hated Maeval. She was, by all accounts, a clever, influential woman with a talent for bending others to her whims and a vast knowledge of Sith philosophy. This was a woman worthy of some degree of respect. It was probably more accurate to say that Arette disdained those that surrounded her.

It was one thing to defer to one of the Forceless in matters at which they excelled. You didn't need to bear witness to the majesty of the Dark Side to slice effectively or build a starship or march to war. An underling who didn't feel constantly disrespected was an underling you didn't have to replace after a failed coup attempt.

But Arette had heard how these so-called Sith whispered about the Eternalist's pet philosopher. To many, Arette had gathered, Sharan Maeval was not a valued asset or a competent servant; she was something of a deific figure.

The Sith clenched and unclenched her fists at her side, just out of frame of the holocamera transmitting her image.

The Force shall set me free. What were these fools doing, bowing and scraping before someone who would never taste true freedom in her life?

Sharan Maevel

 

[Sharan Maevel]

Recognizing the type was far from difficult. Looks and personality most certainly matched with this one. The uninvited guest was not one for pleasantries it seemed, though Sharan figured it was preferable to the half-interrogation the last one attempted.

"You were correctly informed," Sharan calmly replied. She had exactly what the woman described her to have, things young and ambitious Sith often found tantalizing. This was far from the first time she had been approached, and it was definitely not the last time either. Many, however, were simply not worth Sharan's time. A ship and crew at her command was a good sign this one could be different, at least.

"Your arrival is a bit... sudden, though I suppose my schedule is light today," she mused out loud as she slowly paced around the room. Whether or not Sharan had her reservations about the woman's personality had little bearing was business was concerned. Good opportunities were not to be wasted.

"You'll be given permission to land. I would like to see how we can help each other."

Arette​

 

[Arette]

Nok Trisz, head (and only) engineer of the Astral Huntress, reclined on his bed while the familiar sensation of atmospheric re-entry washed over him. It wasn't like it was a physical sensation, 'course; artificial grav systems made sure that a ship's crew didn't feel entry or exit from an atmosphere. But a good engineer knew his ship; the whines and wheezes the engine and reactor made under certain stresses, the way the hull creaked just slightly. And Nok was a damn good engineer. Still laying back, he stretched his hand out in front of his face, twisting it to watch the black metallic paint coating his nails shimmer in the light.

A damn pretty engineer, too. The slender Iridonian allowed himself a self-indulgent chuckle at that, then sighed when he heard knuckles tapping against the engineering bay's door.

"Move your ass, Trisz. You're up."

By way of response, the Captain got an affirmative grunt, and a few seconds later, the Huntress's engineer stepped out of the engineering-bay-slash-impromptu-personnel-quarters, a lovingly cared-for old slug rifle hanging from a carrying strap on his shoulder.

"Still don't think you need me here, Boss. M8 knows the plans just-"

Nok cut himself off with a disgusted noise as she came into his field of view. She was the tallest member of the conscript crew the Captain had scrounged together, with greasy blonde hair, a face covered in scars, and a grin full of crooked teeth.

"Quit your whinin', pretty boy. Not like you're gonna break a nail in there."

"Shut up, both of you." Arette sighed, but it was mostly affected - a part of her enjoyed the bickering. Reminded her of the Academy.

"You're coming with me, Trisz, because I ordered you to, and my orders will be followed." The Sith didn't sound angry, but she did sound unyielding. The engineer nodded, resigned, and that was good enough for Arette for now.

The bigger problem was the other one. Limbs twitching, eyes darting back and forth, the way her head swiveled to the source of every single tiny sound the ship made...it wouldn't be that big of a problem, normally, but right now?

"Iava?"

"Captain?"

"Did you think we were going Jedi hunting, today?"

"Um. No, Capta-"

In a flurry of supernatural speed, Arette had Iava against the wall, her forearm pinning the ganger woman to the bulkhead.

"Then I'm curious why you thought you needed a hit of Hurricane." Iava's eyes widened, and she tried to stammer out an answer, but the Knight's knee knocked the wind out of her, and the sudden relesae of pressure from her throat meant the ganger fell to the floor, slumping over slightly.

Arette turned around and started walking, gesturing for Nok to follow with her. Which, equal parts amused and terrified, he did.

"Get up, you're not off duty. If you embarrass me, though, I'm sticking you in medbay and letting Vixtra do whatever she wants with you."

The woman on the ground didn't voice a response. She just nodded, picked herself up off the ground while cradling her stomach briefly, and followed Arette to whatever welcoming party had been set up for them planetside.

Sharan Maevel

 

[Sharan Maevel]

"Three people have exited the craft. Not the... most distinguised look."

"Tiasha, dear, leave the judgment to me. All you need to do is ensure they cannot do anything they'll regret," Sharan explained as she strode through the hallway, filling it with the sound of clicking heels. Behind her, moving in the opposite direction, the body of the man she had taken the life of was being carried away.

"Everyone is alerted and in position, milady," Tiasha swiftly responded.

"Then there is nothing to worry about, hm?"

Sharan didn't slow down as put away her holocomm with a sigh. When she reached the staircase that led down to the foyer of the estate, she was met by a woman wearing a black veil. Piercing amber eyes and pale white skin were all her face revealed.

"Shall we, then?" Her tone was casual, in stark contrast to anyone else who would speak to Sharan.

"Let's see who our visitors are. Keep an eye on the main one, masked woman. Just to be safe."

"Alright."

With the veiled woman following close behind, Sharan descended the stairs and made her way outside to meet her guests.

Arette​