The Droid Sent Me

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The Architects had called him the Harbinger, and he had not refused the title. The honor of such a position was not something the Rattataki would hide now that he had attained it. Months ago, Gravesen had been a dead beat thief, out to plunder and make his way in the galaxy. His education as a historian had left him fascinated with books, and the various subjects they pertained to. When the Architects subdued him during a heist and hauled him off to the Ge'hutuun, he had not resisted. Death's sweet embrace would be a release from this curse.

To his surprise, events had run a very different course. The droids had rebuilt his body; exhumed the toxins from his veins, and filled him with the knowledge accumulated over thousands of lives. The Architects were a very powerful ally to have, and as the previous Harbinger had helped make the Confederacy into a galactic super power; Gravesen would continue that work with the ASA. The Architects had their reasons for doing things, and he was to represent them and make his own path.

And trail blaze he would.

The Rattataki's leather boots scuffed against the floors as he came upon the [member="Salem Norongachi"] was said to inhabit. His leatherbound fingers adjusted the messy frills of his ebony trench coat, and ran over his bald: pale, tattooed head with a break of nervousness. Swallowing heavily, the Harbinger slipped through the doors into Norongachi's chambers.

He stood tall, shoulders square. His chin was tilted slightly upward to declare some air of authority, and his pale lips were curved into a small, albeit warm smile. His gray eyes crinkled with the smile, and his voice was a bit rough, though not unpleasant. "I apologize for such an abrupt meeting...time is of the essence."

 

[Salem Norongachi]

Norongachi was at his desk, the sun dipping low in the sky that could be seen through the large bay window behind him. Green eyes barely flickered from the flimisplast set before him, one of hundreds that were neatly piled upon his desk. The documents before him contained information about the fabled Architects, the ones who had been a silent guiding hand to his predecessor. More accurately, it pertained to Styx and the botched operation the CIS had conducted there.

He had been on Styx, he had fought and bled through that sub-aquatic hell along with the other soldiers sent in to do the job. Unsuccessful as it was, it had unearthed one key fact that he had relentlessly pursued since: What were the Architects? What was their purpose, what was their endgame? Unfortunately that trail had gone cold with Verd's removal from power.

Now, like deliverance from the hand of a deity, [member="Gravesen Conclave"] had arrived. Sent by the very same illusive beings that had peaked his interest all those months ago. Obviously he was suspicious, if it seemed to good to be true, it usually was but curiosity was a powerful motivator.

"It usually is." Was all he offered, looking up finally at the bald tattooed sentient.

 

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Gravesen made no move to take any sort of seat. He had no desire to stay any longer than he needed, and getting comfortable would imply the opposite. It was not out of disdain for Norongachi, nor for his government. He was simply uneasy about the entirety of the matter at hand. The Architects, the ASA, Norongachi, all of it was thrust upon him in the form of a title and specialized adrenals.

"It keeps the galaxy exciting." He commented. The Rattataki folded his arms over his chest, took a deep breath, and pieced his words together carefully.

"My name is Gravesen Conclave. I was a university student imprisoned by the old Sith Empire. In the interim, I came into contact with the Architects. Their previous Harbinger, whom I'm positive you know of, had fulfilled his purpose. The Dread Guard were given a sense of freedom, the Sith were allowed to dismantle the Republic in all but its name, and the Confederacy has been purged of its flaws and reborn as the ASA." He took a deep breath. "The Architects have been prevalent for thousands of years. The history they have stored dates back far beyond the days of the Old Republic, and they brought the Confederacy into a state of galactic power for a number of years."

He folded his arms behind his back, and fell silent for a long moment. Not one to drag things on longer than necessary, Gravesen crossed further into the room; leather boots scuffing against the floor. His head lowered, and his voice followed.

"The Dread Guard were created with their assistance. The Confederacy was going to be the face of galactic unity against a much greater threat. Verd gravely wounded that vision, but he didn't kill it. The Architects chose this place for its ideals. Tal'verda was chosen for his beliefs in unity, and when he left, the Architects were inclined to follow. I hold his position now, and I've seen what things are to come. The ASA, more than any other people, represents what the galaxy will need when the hammer falls. To you, we would lend our full support."

[member="Salem Norongachi"]

 

[Salem Norongachi]

There was much to be learned in silence. Much to see that one might otherwise miss, a tightness in the mans face as he spoke of Verd, as he spoke of the Architects. Fear or nervousness? If the former, fear of what? Fear of what might happen if he failed in his assigned task? Fear that Norongachi may laugh in his face, turn him out into the cold with little more than a fable as evidence?

He was sincere, of that Salem had no doubt, every nuance of his body language showed little sign of subterfuge on his part. This all lead up to the conclusion that these Architects, if they were as prevalent in the past as he said, as the intelligence files all pointed to, were something they wanted on their side. The only sticking point he had, the one that caused a raven brow to rise ever so slightly upon pale skin were the mention of 'Ideals'.

"You spoke of ideals..." His gaze never wavering as he spoke, he leaned forward, his elbows resting atop the desk. "Elaborate, if you can."

[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

 

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There it was. That one, single thing that Gravesen would need to latch onto if this were to work out. He had not survived Roon's forests to be turned away, and it seemed, as expected, that Norongachi was as smart as the Architects had said.

"The survivors of the Confederacy, more than any other people, know loss." He began; the slightest tinge of youthful passion lacing his voice. "They know prejudice, and they know betrayal. You did what was necessary to survive. You've crawled out from under the boots of every major faction in the galaxy, and emerged better for it."


The Harbinger stood up to his full height. Imposing as he might have seemed in the long black coat, and the face of tattoos, he felt rather small in the sitting man's presence. Perhaps it was the force; for Gravesen knew he was attuned to it. Perhaps it was simply the position, and the things done with it. He would likely never know.

"The Confederacy, in its youth, was the true face of unity and freedom. The Republic is a dying, diseased beat. The Sith and the Mandalorians are obsessed with themselves, and the Omega Protectorate does not have the galaxy's interests at heart."

He paused, and then, presented the literary hook that would make or break the deal. "There are threats greater than the Yuuzhan Vong beyond the galaxy's borders. We need to be united, as one galactic people to to survive it. The ASA is going to survive the onslaught of the other galactic powers. No one is better suited to bring about this unification in the years to come."

[member="Salem Norongachi"]

 

[Salem Norongachi]

He'd heard it all before, he'd said it all before. To the people out there looking to him for guidance and protection, as the galaxy eternally ripped itself asunder all around them. How many times he had walked this path, how many times he had tried desperately to quell this galaxy aflame...how many times he had failed.

A retort that this was old news prepared to leave his lips when the man spoke again and a coldness swept over him. A twisting knot took root in his gut, as those words like echos through time, first uttered 700 years ago and then again by Kalvin Strife and now...

He felt that hand upon his shoulder, the very hairs upon his neck rising as an ethereal breath played across it. Fate. Fate had found him once again. It had intervened and delivered him to a point and a place and a time when it was most critical that he be there. The tension he showed was fleeting, a mask of stone dropping across his features but the thoughts remained, turning over and over as they had done since Strife's reappearance and the revelation that the Shadows still moved against them..

"What do you know...of this threat." It wasn't a question. The intensity, the authority, with which he spoke left no room for doubt; he was demanding.

 

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There was a familiarity with the way Norongachi spoke of the threat. It was in the slight twist of his expression, and the severity of his tone. If he had no knowledge about the issue, he would have asked, not demanded.

That wiped any possible doubts from Gravesen's mind at once.

"I know that they reside far beyond galactic borders. Something borne of the force not outside it, like the Vong. The Monitor and I have considered the possibility of them sending the Vong as a vanguard of sorts...I believe whatever we're dealing with will be far more devastating than anything the Vong could be capable of."

The Harbinger tilted his head forward, as if that added any truth to his words. He matched Salem's gaze; eerie grays contrasting with the sharp greens. His lips pressed into a thin line, and the last recesses of humor in his expression evaporated.

"It's going to come for us, Salem Norongachi, and I think you know that truth as much as I do."



[member="Salem Norongachi"]

 

[Salem Norongachi]

He knew, had known since before the fall of the Empire and the demise of the then New Republic. He'd known, as had Kal Strife and a handful of others who all saw the pattern. They knew it was out there, a looming threat, but nothing solid beside that. Twice he had gone beyond the galaxy in search of it and found nothing but rumor. Kal had gone himself only to return 700 years later with as much to show as Salem.

Norongachi stood up and moved to look out the window set behind his desk. He spoke quietly, as if his mind were half a world away."Theories, suspicions, half-truths and paranoia. Thats all I have, that's all I've ever had. I needed hard fact, I need to know what it is I'm facing, where I can hurt them and how it can hurt us." He looked down at his hand, turning it this way and that so scars caught the sunlight. Too long had he been a pawn in this game, one so big that hardly anyone knew it was going on. All that he'd lost, all that he'd sacrificed to move and counter-move....it had to end, before there was nothing left to save.

"Get me that [member="Gravesen Conclave"], and you'll have everything I can give."

 

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Gravesen fought the urge to smile. This was exactly what he needed. Salem truly did understand the severity of the situation the galaxy at large was placed in. The galactic scale was being held hostage by it own wars and territory conflicts; when the truest threat lay just beyond view. It lay there in the shadows, sharpening its claws and watching patiently for the time to pounce. That time was going to come very soon.

"The Architects call them the Di'daraks. I don't know what language it's from, and they won't tell me. What they have told me is that the threat was face is of the force, unlike the Vong. This threat consumes worlds for sustenance, and has absorbed countless other galaxy before they ever gave us a passing thought. Now, I think we're coming up on their list. You're strong in the force, Salem. You must have sensed it."

He folded his arms behind his back, and gave [member="Salem Norongachi"] a look of such purpose, a look of such conviction that he could have said he had eaten a rainbow for breakfast, and one might believe him. "I don't know what they look like, and I can only assume they're monstrously huge. Either way, the galaxy needs to stand united to repel them. It's the only possible way."

 

[Salem Norongachi]

New information, after so long quieted the voice that had thought him mad. It wasn't everything he'd hoped for but it, in conjunction with what Strife had told him months previous, was enough for him to be certain that his mind hadn't betrayed him. It was real, as real as the day he'd first dreamed of shadow and fire.

"They look like flame.." It was hard to describe that dream, that constant nightmare he'd had back in another lifetime, another galaxy. At first he had thought it a sun, a dark sun that sucked the flesh from his bones, that dragged his very essence into it. Over and over he had suffered that fate, his nights became a terror of which he could never escape. Then he had felt a presence behind it, a consciousness of such a scale that it were like looking into the mind of a god. "Fire with purpose."

He was thankful, in a way, that he didn't sleep anymore. That fear had driven him to force his body into a constant state of awakening where that terrible mind could not find him. Only it had, it had become a creeping sense of foreboding, like eyes watching you from the darkness. He attributed this to his own growing strength, to the leaps and the bounds he had taken to extend his own perception of the universe through the Force. If he focused now, he could feel the heartbeat of a sentient on Bothawui but still he was a child compared to the gaze that followed him everywhere.

"Thats why I'm here." He began, turning to meet that resolve and utter acceptance of what was coming. It was something he saw so little of because so few knew, so few were READY to know, that it took some of the crushing weight he'd carried for so long from his shoulders. "Everything I have done since I awoke from stasis has been calculated to put us in a position to hold the line. Working my way into Verds inner circle, reforming the Templars into elite soldiers, purging the CIS and turning us into a cohesive military minded government with the full support of the populace. It won't be long now, as you say, until they are upon us. All that matters now are the others out there. Do they stand with us, or do we break them. Speak to your Architects, the future of an entire Galaxy depends on the decisions that must be made from this moment on wards."

 

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They were kindred spirits in the truest definition of the word. [member="Salem Norongachi"] knew the predator that stalked the wounded animal that was the galaxy. He had sen it; intimately interacted with the beast in a terrifying manner that only the damned should be resigned to.

Of fire.

A beast of flames, dark and ravenous. It needed to feed, and what better form of sustenance could there be, but the wounded, chaotic galaxy that was Gravesen's own.

Any doubts about the Architects words evaporated. His resolve was unshakable, his will, never breaking. He leveled his gaze on Salem, and nodded.

"I will inform them, and we will assist you however we can...and hopefully, I won't be eaten in the process." He turned partway toward the door. "And I doubt the galaxy will listen until we force them to."

 

[Salem Norongachi]

A cool smile crossed his lips at that assessment. "Never a truer word." He responded and gave [member="Gravesen Conclave"] a nod as he left. Allies, it was a new concept and a welcome one for what had been a two man fight for centuries. It was almost enough to allow him a measure of hope that they might yet survive what was coming.

Almost.