The Apple

[Lina Djo]

Calina lacked her mother's flare for entrances, in the sense that she liked very much to pass unnoticed when she set foot on any planet. It helped that her face was not one that was known to the wider galaxy, she'd not commited any atrocities that might bring her and her face to the limelight, she deliberately disassociated herself from her mother by taking her fathers name instead, and she didn't make trouble. She'd booked passage on a passenger ship taking new workers and business investors that couldn't quite afford a ship of their own to Fondor and travelled light. A rucksack with a change of clothes and her lightsaber tucked inside and a briefcase full of all the things that gave her joy.

Paperwork.

Anaya didn't need to question her mother's reasoning for sending calina to do work her HRD would normally do, her HRD's all shared the same face, and that face had been involved in a very messy fight on the steps of Pyre Tower, but this did not make it any less tedious for her. she stepped out of the star port, pulled a datapad from her pocket to check where she was going and headed north for a cantina that was about to fall under the control of Apoleia Inc.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge, of course, never rested on his laurels - despite claims to the contrary. Which was why he'd made sure to flag anything even remotely Anaya related for filtering across his desk. Apoleia wasn't going anywhere on his planet without his knowledge, and if he'd known who was on her way, he might have figured it was the reason she hadn't come herself. Well, aside from the egregious injuries she'd sustained.

But here, on his adopted home planet now that Corellia had been busted, he found himself in a cantina, awaiting the arrival of a woman he'd never met. In truth, it was a long shot that she was related to the Sith Ovmar that several of Sarge's acquaintances had known through the years, but it was the sort of flag that he wanted to inspect personally.

Which was why he was at a table in the middle of the bar, sipping tea. A dark green turtleneck sat snug on his broad-shouldered soldier's frame, and the black slacks and diligently shined loafers he wore were perfectly at odds with the reputation he had cultivated. Perhaps most striking for most, however, was his face. It was handsome, only in the sense that, say, a weatherbeaten monument might have been. It had, once upon a time, likely been something to admire.

Now, time had taken it's toll.

That toll was evident in the shrapnel wounds pockmarking his right cheek, giving it a cratered appearance not unlike a moonscape. It was evident moreso in the void-black eyes set beneath a pair of brown brows, their surfaces glimmering and reflective like a lakefront beneath a full moon. They weren't human eyes, not anymore, though they had once been. Everyone in this building knew from the eyes alone that the former Lord Protector was in attendance, and they gave him the requisite berth.

It wasn't that he was impersonal. They were just unfazed. This close to the Tower? He was a common enough sight.

Just not a common one to [member="Calina Ovmar"], at least not yet. Though, perhaps he might just become one.

 

[Lina Djo]

Outside, Calina checked the address again with a frown before turning her back on the Catina to curves the area. She could see the Prye tower almost onsite, stretching high above them, eveidence of the fight that had rendered her mother temporarily incapacitated non-existent. It made sense, from an intelligence gathering point of view, though personally, Calina would have preferred to take it two, maybe three blocks away.

Blowing a sigh out of her nose, she turned to head inside, slottting the datapad back inside her jacket and allowing her eyes to sweep over the room once before heading towards the bar. Three steps forwards and she stopped, eyes swinging back to the man sat in the centre. She'd never met [member="Sarge Potteiger"], but she'd seen enough images of him to recognise him. He was very clearly waiting for her. So what now?

He wasn't armed to the teeth, which was a sign that she wasn't necessarily in immediate danger, but it didn't do much to ease her concerns. She glanced over her shoulder, she could walk out, but he'd likely have her followed and she still had business to conduct, so one way or another she'd have to come back. the blonde teenage heaved another sigh and altered her. Course from the bar, to his table,sliding the rucksackoff her shoulder and dropping it and the breifcase into an empty chair before taking the one opposite from him.

Ice blue eyes settled on inky black ones. "If you have any intention of killing or imprisoning me, I would prefer to know upfront."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

If he'd wanted an answer, it was quite literally set before him. Just then he was stirring his tea with the bag, smiling at her in an almost fatherly fashion. It would likely rankle, if she were anything like Anaya, and he imagined she had to be if she was spending any time around her. Habits rubbed off, after all. Bringing the cup to his lips, he sipped the still steaming beverage lightly, frowning a bit. Setting the cup back down, he looked down into the brown depths and seemed to weigh his response.

"That would rather depend on you." He says finally, eyes sweeping upward to meet hers.

How brilliant, those eyes. "What brings you to my parlour?" An old poem.

Perhaps she knew it.

 

[Lina Djo]

Calina's expression remained impassive as he smiled at her, taking his time in responding. I tight have rankled her had she to been in a far more irritating situation, and her anger at that time had landed her whine bars for a year on Mandalore. She didn't make the same mistake twice, she was not her mother and she had far more patience than the woman who had raised her...if you could call it raising.

She tilted her head in a very Anaya-esk fashion, smiling at his reply.

"It's a pretty little parlour. Full of curious things."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The man snorted, taking another sip of coffee. "Delicious." He remarks dryly, in contrast to the face he'd made earlier. "A bit too strong, however. But then again, that's all personal taste, no?' He smiled briefly, the look fleeting on his scarred features. "There was a small corner cafe on Corellia, in Coronet, actually, near the Blastworks - close enough to smell the solder used on the metal - that made the most exquisite green tea. I never did find out where they got their honey from.

Omni destroyed that place. A shame."

Shaking himself, he smiled at her again, bringing the cup to his lips one more time before he speaks. "I'm afraid curiosity does not live here, outside my own. I do not believe you were sent here on a suicide mission, however, which begs the question of just what you're after."

 

[Lina Djo]

Calina folded her arms and rested them on the table as he spoke again, reminiscing like people his age so often did. She could understand her mothers fascination with him. Sarge clearly had many layers, she wondered how many of them anaya had managed to see. Probably very few, by her reckoning.

She pondered his question for a moment, debating very carefully on her best course of action. She could tell him a half truth, that she was here to purchase the cantina on behalf of Apoleia Inc as per an agreement between its owner and her mother and leave it at that. He might let her go, tell his men to steer clear of it, or hold their tongues withing so information didn't slide through Anaya's informative lines but was she willing to take the risk that he wouldn't have her tailed to find out the other half of her job here.

"If you think my mission does not involve suicide then you are vastly overestimating my mothers ability to care about anyone besides herself." She retorted before reaching for her rucksack. "I'm not getting a weapon, just want to show you why I'm here." she pulled out a small tin box which she opened. Within it was a small droid, deactivated but with the resemblance of a wasp. She set it on the table before them.

"My mission is to purchase the cantina, as per agreement with its current vendor so that Anaya has ears and eyes a little closer to her target and also to retrieve the thirty or so of these surveillance droids that she left behind in your tower."

She paused to allow the information to sink in for a moment before continuing. "If you wish me to do neither, then i will do neither and you can see me safely onto the next ship out of here. I'll take the lesser of two evils and handle whatever punishment my mother can concieve for me."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The man grinned, sliding the box over, as if she'd confirmed something to him. "We wondered where these came from. Thirty, you say?" He asks. He wouldn't tell her how many they'd found - or even if they had actually found them. You didn't show all the cards in your hand, generally speaking. "She should have tried a little harder if she wanted eyes and ears close by." He remarks, "A few shell companies may have done her some good but using her own company was just asking for me to stop by."

His head tilts to one side and he looks up towards the ceiling for a moment, clearly pondering something. "I suppose that could be the point, but I doubt she's in a good state for such a plan." The hand that had taken hold of the box was partially robotic - obsidian black, with a matte finish, and it replaced all five fingers and half of his hand before fading into flesh. "Go ahead." He says finally, sliding the droid back to her. "Purchase your cantina, retrieve your droids, and go about your business.

The ones you're able to retrieve won't show you anything a guided tour wouldn't. It's a mercenary outfit that also functioned as a government. Where I come from, one could tour the legislative buildings, sit in on their sessions, and do all manner of things to promote transparency.

We had to do something similar."

 

[Lina Djo]

"No, she's not in a good state, but she is, unfortunately, a survivor." She caught the box, and snapped its lid shut, before scooping it up and dropping it make in her rucksack.

"It's of no matter to me, Mr. Potteiger, what information the droids do or do not contain. I will not be part of the group that comes hunting for what she wants." She caught the arm of a passing server and ordered a caff before tunring her attention back t the man opposite her, chewing the inside of her cheek in thought.

"Can I ask something of you, in exchange for information you may find valuable?"

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

There was a pause, and he made a vague gesture with his hand. "Ask."

 

[Lina Djo]

"I would appreciate it, if next time you see her, you refrain from trying to kill her. Not because I care for her, but because that is a death I want very much for myself."

She paused as her caff was delivered. She coiled her fingers about the cup and stared down at it for a long moment. When she looked up she seemed slightly on edge. Not because she was afraid of the reaction to her next words, but because she was concerned what consequences might come from telling Sarge.

"Am I correct in understanding that you and Jorus Merrill are friends?"

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

He nods, "I make no promises." He says finally, then furrows his brow.

"What of Jorus?"

 

[Lina Djo]

"Anaya has his daughter."

The words fell out of mouth and she closed her eyes, as if she was expecting something to come down heavenly upon her. When it didn't she continued.

"I don't know how well you know Anaya, but you should know that whatever compassion she might have had once upon a time, she no longer has and i truly believe she will do whatever she thinks is necessary to get the right reaction out of her father."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge furrowed his brow, clearly processing that information with a modicum of distaste. "How... discomforting." He remarks blandly. "And what does she want from Jorus?"

 

[Lina Djo]

Calina took a sip from her caff and sat back in her chair with a sigh.

"I don't know. To play with him maybe? See if she can push him to the dark side, or maybe just use him in some way. He has a set of skills she would find useful. After all, how many other Jedi do you know who can shunt things through hyperspace."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge pursed his lips, the first sign of his apparent displeasure through their brief discourse. Slowly, the tea was brought to his lips again, and he sighed. "I suppose I should have seen this coming. A man like Jorus knows everyone, and so everyone knows Jorus." Whatever that meant, who was to say.

But in truth, if any of his friends were to be kidnapped, it would be Jorus.

"I wouldn't know." He admits. "The sheer... scope of powers available to those who simply try hard enough is rather hard to quantify."

 

[Lina Djo]

She Lifted up her cup and smiled over the rim. "Precisely."

She took a long sip, studying Sarge over the lip of her cup. She could understand her mothers fascination with him, he had clearly been a handsome man in his day, now however he bore the tell tale signs of one too many wars. Calina herself was somewhat unnerved by his unreadable black eyes. She set her cup down again.

"Why did you try to kill her?" She asked, forgetting jorus for the moment, curiosity getting the better of her. "From what she says she didn't nothing to instigate it."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Those shimmering void pools shifted, no iris within to say where he was or wasn't looking. One had to track the movements of the moisture that glimmered on the surface to have any hope of figuring out where he was looking. In truth, he still wasn't used to them - and it had been the better part of two decades since he'd gotten them. It was near impossible to get past losing your own eyes.

"As ever, she's wrong." It wasn't meant as an insult. He spoke with the sort of frankness that said he was speaking his mind, and whether or not it was wholly true didn't matter - he had the belief to sell it as truth. While he'd never understood it, he knew that sort of bluntness added to a certain charisma that others saw in him.

There was a frown, a tooth coming out to press into the fullness of his lower lip. Something was being weighed, and then, after several moments, he spoke; but he wasn't looking at her as he did so. Rather, he sat back, one palm flat on the table, the other back where his elbow hooked over the rear of his chair. His eyes lingered on the tabletop but were unfocused to try and see some point in the middle distance.

"When the Sith took Cira, I became unstable." Putting that lightly. "I realized that the Jedi way of handling them - rehabilitation, imprisonment, whatever - it didn't work. Sure, you got a convert here or there, but the Jedi lost more to conversion into Sith than vice-versa. The Dark Side will always be a cancer, gnawing at our better sides, and once it grows strong enough we fade and wither into the Great Night. Does it give you strength? Absolutely.

But at great cost.

The old way wasn't cutting it. So I took a new road. A hard-line road. I became to them what they were to the Jedi. Where their cults sprang up, I excised them. Where they tainted artifacts and left them for others to find, I purified them or destroyed them. Nothing was too outlandish, no task too distasteful. I got dangerously close to becoming one myself. But before I went to get her back, before Ayden gave the order to launch our fleet with myself at the spearhead, I went to an old friend.

And my old friend fashioned me a halberd of phrik, and her old friend imbued it with Force Light. It's a powerful tool, blessing a weapon like that.

I do it myself, anymore. And so the moment she drew on the Dark Side, the weapon reacted. Once she did that... I had no choice but to shoot her." She'd know why. The Pyre, even before Sarge had turned up to 20, had a standing policy of not working for Sith, and more often than not, taking contracts that involved fighting them directly.

 

[Lina Djo]

Calina felt a chill run down her spine and closed her fingers around the cup willing its warmth to drive away the cold fear that had washed over her at his tale. Sarge was unforgiving then, of the Sith as a whole. She gleaned that from his tale, no matter what you had or hadn't done to attempt to redeem yourself from the terrible things sith generally did, use of the dark side was utterly unforgivable.

And yet, here he sat, talking to a Sith. The teenage frowned into the depths of her cup and took a long drink before turning her attention to him. "Why wait for her to draw upon the dark side? If it is a cancer like you say, then you already knew she was infected and past saving. By your reckoning, even I should be dead."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

He smiled at that. It was a smile that brought to mind the winds of Hoth - frigid, unforgiving, and cutting. "For all my supposed zealotry a life is measured in usefulness. It sounds cold, but it's true. Your skills. Your friends. Your... talents, whatever they may be... they define who you are, and how people see you.

You're a number. Sometimes that number is useful, sometimes it isn't. In this case, Anaya is a number I knew well, and we had a bit of a history. Perhaps not a close history, but a history nonetheless. I'm a loyal man, you see. I've been friends with Sith Empresses, smugglers, dealers, genocides, corporate executive officers, slavers... they run the gamut. Not every evil person commits evil for evil's sake." That was a complex way of viewing a black and white situation, he'd admit.

"But at the end of the day, once you have cancer, it's almost inevitable that you die. Most often, I give the stricken a quick death - but sometimes I get sentimental, and then I simply let them die slowly by not granting them peace.

That is, unless they force my hand."