Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Mission Sympathy for the Devil

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B Y S S

You could say that the peacekeeping mission to Byss was uneventful. Many would believe you at face value. Or you could tell them of how Tiberius and his golden star knights descended upon the planet, a horde of battle hardened veterans who had long ago put their empathy to the sword, and how they rooted out the sympathizers of the Maw still dwelling on Byss.

His fingers tightened around the stone bannister, curling until they bled white. Behind him, blood pooled upon the ground, leaking from a human corpse - mouth agape. Tiberius did not look back. The look of shock on the dead man's face made his blood boil. Shock. As if he did not know what would happen to him when it was discovered he aided the Maw - the same Maw rabble who took slaves by the billions, ravaged entire planets, and left millions dead in their wake and billions more to be refugees. They were a blight on the galaxy. And this man had helped them for a few credits. All because of the lingering loyalists to the Constitutional Authority of Beshqek. Tiberius closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

"Marshal Tiberius."

"Yes?" He did not open his eyes.

"Director Dune is here to see you."

"Of course, send him in to the throne room."

In this tower amid the fortress world, the C.A.B. had at one point apparently refashioned the throne room of Emperor Palpatine and used it for meetings. Now Tiberius sat in the throne, leaning hunched over in his armor, a blaster rifle in his lap - its barrel still hot to the touch.
 
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Caulder Dune entered the throne room with all the liveliness of a chill draft, adjusting his cufflinks, followed closely by a sinister protocol droid.​
Byss had long been written off by the Alliance, so far as he could understand. Even after ousting Sularen and his inner circle, it remained a hive of malcontents and imperial dissidents. They were a fanatical people. Now a new High Marshal had been appointed to expunge their sympathies and clean up the mess, and that High Marshall wished to speak with the Guild.​
Touching, really.​
He stopped a generous distance from the throne, on account of the bleeding corpse nestled so nicely near it. Caulder dune frowned with the sort of thinning patience one usually reserved for children that did not clean their rooms.​
"High Marshal," he said, dryly, by way of greeting. He briefly eyed the blaster laid across the High Marshal's lap. "I trust you did not invite me here to shoot me...?"​
The rule of law and proper judicial procedure seemed to have become more of a loose guide for the Deep Core.​
How nauseating.​
 
The Marshal looked up from his seat. Eyes the pallor of obsidian - and just as sharp - gave Caulder Dune Caulder Dune an auguring stare. The senator was a thin man, several decades older than Tiberius. White hair and alabaster skin, the way he seemed to squint at the light fixtures, hallmarks of an Umbaran. Tiberius wondered how long it had been since Dune visited his homeworld. He wondered if he missed it the way Tiberius missed the harvests back on... well, it didn't matter anymore. That dream died a long time ago.

His fingers tightened on his blaster reflexively, then loosened.

"No, I have done enough of that for today."


Teams of troopers were still dragging corpses out of the tower.

"My commandos are adept at ship-to-ship engagements. You will find no finer starship bridge breachers in the galaxy. But the Mawite supporters have holed up in a mountain fortress."

Tiberius shook his head with disgust, frowning.

"Don't know how they managed to do it under the Alliance's nose, or how they managed to stockpile supplies, but they need to be rooted out and destroyed. And I hear you have a certain mercenary group who are adept at such operations. Aid my commandos in taking the fortress and I will grant it to you for use by your Silver Shields in further peacekeeping missions on Byss."
 
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What a relief. But it was short-lived. Sieges were such costly and overwrought affairs. His contractors much preferred to be deployed against softer targets. But they weren't paid to only carry out their preferred operations, were they? Especially not with the High Marshal footing the bill.​
Caulder folded his hands in front of him, and rather coolly advised, "We find the term 'private defense firm' to be much preferable'"​
He rather supposed that the man with corpses in the throne room did not care to dress things up. More's the pity.​
"I can arrange for a company to be deployed to Byss to conduct the siege. Will you require more specialized assistance, or do you imagine our contractors and their equipment will suffice?"​
 
Of course they did, the word mercenary carried with it so many connotations. People liked to believe they were fighting for an ideal, but in the end so many simply fought for credits. Tiberius tried to instill his soldiers with a sense of virtue and purpose. Greedy eyed soldiers were harder to reign in when it came to taking liberties with the populace. Probably why Caulder gilded their name to make them sound polished and refined, when in reality their work was cruel and savage.

Tiberius leaned forward on the throne, elbows on his knees, fingers steepling. He was not a man for riddles and effete half-measure words. Senator Dune had something in mind, else he wouldn't have tossed in the option. But Tiberius did not have time to bat words back and forth all day as if they were in the senate chambers.

"What do you mean by specialized assistance?"

Caulder Dune Caulder Dune
 
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"We have recently partnered with the Golden Order to form an auxiliary unit for the elimination of Sith," Caulder said, plainly, as if it were the most natural thing to ever occur, like a light rain on a cloudy day, "Sith and similar problems, I should say. The Brotherhood encompasses a variety of mystical, lightsaber-prone 'faiths', I am told."​
They fought like animals and died like them too. It was a wonder anyone could tell them apart. But that didn't make them any less of a problem for traditional soldiery to deal with. Caulder would know.​
The umbaran continued, "If you believe the offending fortress to house any occupants of that peculiar nature, then I can have our appropriate countermeasures brought along."​
 
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“Appropriate countermeasures,” repeated Tiberius flatly, his eyes boring into Caulder Dune Caulder Dune even as the blood spatter surrounding them congealed on the floor.

“I see. I assume such countermeasures would cost me, but I have the backing of the Alliance. You should know that I intend to nationalize the industries on Byss until such a time as order has been restored. There may be some resistance to this action. All the more important that you have a suitable stronghold to assist in its implementation.”

He stood up, walking briskly toward the exit.

“Bring the Golden Order, we shall see how they fare against these cultists.”
 
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Nationalization. Sounded like a mess to Caulder, depending on the companies running Byss presently. But as long as the citizenry weren't dying in the streets of pestilence and starvation, the lineup of people who cared would be very small indeed. Private industry could only bring a society so far before the state had to step in, after all.​
Caulder keenly got out of Tiberius' way. "With all haste, High Marshal."​
He waited until he could no longer hear the the High Marshal's steps, watching the blood at the base of that ugly throne, before himself departing.​
 

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