The Less You Know The Better [ TSE Dominion of Zygerria ]

[Darth Carnifex]

The purring silk-like voice of the Empress wafted through the room, her foreign Outer Rim accent cutting clear through the Basic she spoke. Similarly, the Emperor of the Sith spoke with accented Imperial Basic, denoting that his origins did not lie with the prim and proper Core like so many of his other compatriots did. Like the Empress, he was born deep in the Outer Rim and had made no attempts to hide his accent even as he came to rule one of the most elitist cultures in the entire galaxy.

"You and I think along the same lines, Empress. It is not only a virtue of the Sith but also of my own people; the Epicanthix, that the weak and the ignorant be made to serve those with power, strength, and indomitable will. The folly of democracy is coming to an end at long last, and the ideologies which held back progress and evolution are being stripped away and forgotten." The Emperor's vision was grand, he foresaw a galaxy subservient to the Dark Side of the Force, every living being firmly under its sway as he and the other Sith ruled like gods over a reality that they could bend and shape to fit their every need and desire. In it, there was no Jedi, no light to be found in any corner.

And the darkness was not content to stop at the borders of their own galaxy, for in his vision he too had foreseen hundreds of distant galaxies filled with exotic and unimaginable creatures falling beneath the implacable march of the Dark Side.

It was a vision that the Emperor had not readily shared, keeping it a confidential secret among only the most loyal of his family.

His eyes now gazed upon the gift the Zygerrian Empress had offered the Emperor, and he smiled. "A most welcome gift. The Sith Empire recognizes and honors your ancient traditions and heritage, Empress Nil, and we wish to not infringe on them as the Silver Jedi had done in the past. For many a Sith Empire had also been built on the backs of slaves, an ancestry we both share. Though slavery is frowned upon in my Empire at the moment, there are efforts being made to cultivate a more amiable view towards the practice throughout the populace."

In other words, the Sith would like to re-invigorate the slave trade in their own territory with Zygerria at the forefront of the enterprise.

[member="Verse Taggart"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Tehkyram"]​

 

[The Amalgam]

The Amalgam had finished her ice cream cone, not reacting as a Zygerrian Slaver of particularly high height, clad in red armor sat down across from her. He had deep red fur with streaks of white on his face, set against golden eyes.

"Its a good thing you showed up just as I finished my ice cream. I was about to leave..." The Amalgam remarked casually. "I could never stand these slave markets. Not 'cause they're selling slaves, mind you...but that smell...from the cages and stuff. Your business is an unkempt one." She said, tone acidic with contempt.

"At least we don't have to disguise what a rotten business it is. Everybody knows what they're getting into, buying a slave. A lot of 'em end up murdering their owners. It balances out. You're only free if you're strong enough to be." The Zygerrian man, Terax, grunted, eyes shifting around him in the busy marketplace.

"Preaching to the Choir." The Amalgam joked with a dry chuckle.

She finally turned to look at him. "So...where's my book?"

"There's a complication."

"Oh I'm just dying to hear it."

"I was gonna deliver it to you. I was...but unfortunately, it seems one of my underlings stole the book this morning."

The Amalgam did not react. She merely stared.

"Was he reading it?"

"Caught him glancing at it, now and then." answered Terax with a slovenly shrug. "Didn't think it meant anything. Thought he was just curious."

"You mean you didn't secure it?" The Amalgam's voice took on a hard edge as her purple eyes narrowed.

"It was an untitled, black, leather bound book. Filled with gibberish. Most of my guys ain't ever sat down to read a book in their lives. How was I supposed to know Marvin would get curious?"

The Amalgam rested her head on her right fist, tapping the table with her left hand. She was going to choke him to death. That wasn't a question so much of 'if' as 'when'.

"Where?" the purple eyed woman growled, glowering at him. This was not just a question of where Marvin was, but where exactly on this dungheap of a planet she was going to kill Terax in. Not that Terax knew this.

"One of my contacts spotted him going into the compound of a rival band of slavers. They've been giving us problems for a while now. There are over three dozen of them in their little hidey-hole."

"And I suppose you aren't going to go and get it for me, are you?" Her look was mild disinterest. Draining Terax was too good for him: She'd make it slow. Take her time.

But not right now.

"I can go and get it with you." Terax suggested, which surprised The Amalgam. These slaver types were not pushovers by any stretch of the imagination. They were all dangerous. They had to be, in order to keep slaving. But usually they preferred risk minimization to themselves: If there was another who could be placed in danger, rather than themselves, they they would happily do it, then reap the reward...and maybe kill the winner. Was that his angle? Did he want the book also?

"Is this some sort of 'No one steals from me' sorta thing?" she asked.

Terax pulled out a vibrosickle with a hideous, jagged inner curve and a red contoured grip . "You could say something like that."

The Amalgam stared. Perhaps she had jumped the lightsaber on this one. Terax had recently been promoted, she had learned, to leader of his own slaver gang. She could tell he was still used to the hands on approach to doing things. Maybe it wouldn't do to kill him...at least not yet.

The Amalgam's patience was wearing thin though, thanks to this unexpected delay. Normally, a setback like this would not have been enough to put her on edge. She might not have even wasted time thinking about killing Terax as punishment. But this was different. That book had many secrets not easily rediscovered. The Amalgam was strong in the Dark, but twenty years in 'hibernation' had scrambled much of her knowledge base. She needed to get her hands on the relevant materials--

Uri Udinia's green gaze in her mind stilled the Amalgam for a moment in an unwanted manner.

That was the first thing...the very first thing she had seen waking up. Uri Udinia's green eyed, wet gaze staring at her in her mind. She had not been there of course, else The Amalgam would have gotten to training the witch immediately. But that gaze, or even the memory of it, stirred a personal, choking hatred in the Shapeshifter for reasons she didn't understand. It wasn't the kind of Hatred that powered the Darkness even--this was just a dark, black chunk of fury that smouldered in her black little heart, actually threatening to take her close to depression at times since waking up, which made the woman start taking her weapons apart and reassembling them, just to get distracted.

Maple Harte, for someone so essential to long term goals...caused The Amalgam no end of frustration thinking of her. Why was it so personal?

Just the gaze bubbling up had distracted her from her current task. She refocused on Terax.

"You lead me to the compound. And then we will see what you are made of. But know this, Terax. I will not tolerate incompetence from you a second time." she warned in a terse manner, closing off his windpipe a little with her mind, warning him a bit of what awaited him should he prove inadequate.

Terax, to his credit, held her gaze, as his air supply was slightly reduced. He nodded, knowing he had no way of walking out of it now. "Whatever you're gonna do, don't get gory. Your Sith buddies'll get pissed if you disrupt their labor force.

"I am well aware of the Sith Empire's need for your people's markets. Can't I just flash some lightning though? Its not like you guys are used to fighting Sensitives."

"You'd be surprised." Terax replied with dry irreverence.

The Amalgam rose from the table along with Terax and Terax led the way through the Marketplace. She passed by a dozen stands, each selling their own brand of taboo. Some of it even looked fun to The Amalgam (She was particularly fond of all the illegal ivory carvings they had and resolved to buy one when her business was concluded here. As Terax led her to the right area of the Markets, he subtly gestured to the large, red, allmost ziggurat like set up of his rivals compound, warning her they had plenty of sway in this area.

"I got us a way in, but I gotta be charitable with my money to the right outstretched hands. Look like you're buying something." Terax advised as he headed off into the crowds. The Amalgam knew he would not try bolting on her now...she sensed his commitment.

The shapeshifter, her corrupt aura a bleeding gash in the Force strode through the various slave stands, happening upon another presence in the Dark, [member="Alvarex Zambrano"].

Her eye instantly caught sight of a Shi'ido slave being advertised at a much higher price than the others. Filing that away for important info later, for she could never have enough Shi'ido on tap to transfer to as she examined the other slaves. She never personally used slaves. Droid's were more efficient. Less risk of rebellion.

"Strange how they just stand there, letting themselves be sold." The Amalgam remarked quietly to Alvarex in her husky tone, deciding to make idle conversation with him while she waited for Terax to return. "Even though they know what it means...they stand there anyway. Guess submission to others beats staying here. Is that the secret, you think? The Zygerrians just put their slaves between a rock and a hard place?" She wondered idly.

 

[AMCO]

Objective III: Exploit the weak and elevate the strong.
Post Number IV

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Coming to a stop before the Rattataki, he stared into her eyes, noting the mixture of hatred and fear with which she stared back. That was good. He knew some believed it was better for the Brotherhood's recruits to be well and truly broken before being initiated into the ways of the Sith, but he had always found the concept distasteful. Perhaps it was the fact that he had been an Acolyte not long ago, or perhaps it was simply a matter of differences in philosophy. Either way, he was pleased.

Reaching forward, he cupped her chin with his right hand, ignoring her slight flinch. Leaning down to her ear, he whispered softly. "Tell me, what would you do if you were free."

After a moment of hesitation, she answered, her tone defiant. "I'd cut out that karking bastard's tongue and feed him his own laneh!" Face livid, the Zygerrian trader moved forward, whip crackling, but stopped when the young Knight threw back his head and laughed.

"Oh, I like you, I really do. We need to work on your ambition though." Turning towards the Zygerrian, whose face was alternating between angry and confused, Adrian spoke quickly, tone placating. "Fiery, isn't she? I'll take her. Will 20.000 credits be sufficient?" For a moment, it looked like the man would be offended enough to argue, but with some effort, he managed to recover his former practised friendliness. "Of course, my Lord. She's yours, do with her what you will."

Returning his sadistic smile with an amiable one of his own, Adrian guided his newest purchase towards the street, then the small group made their way back to his ship. As the door closed behind them, he turned towards her, responding to her cautious look with a chuckle. "No need for such glumness, you're one of the lucky ones." Taking an unadorned black robe from the hands of a servant droid, he handed it towards her, smiling warmly. "Whether by fate or fortune, you have a chance few could dream of; you have the chance to become a Sith, or die trying."

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective 3: Attend the slave market, and acquire "willing" test subjects

She had spread her operatives around the market now, each one with a list of potential near-humans and humanoids they should be on the lookout for to purchase. She herself was examining some Houk specimens, surprised they had been captured. Perhaps they had run afoul of a Hurt? It didn't matter to her.

"How much for all of them?" she asked, looking at the Zygerrian. The feline, for their part, was able to hide their surprise.

"250,000 credits."

"Done. Take them to the transports and have them shipped to the Nar Shaddaa facility."

Walking away from the shocked merchant, she reviewed the ping she received on her datapad. Ah excellent, one of her people had found ten specimens of Terrelian Jango Jumpers.

 

[Irajah Ven]

"That one. That one. No, not that one, that one is just sad."

Doctor Vain Jar'He moved through an open air room- the light filtered through some sort of blue fabric, giving everything beneath it a cool, relaxed feel.

Or would if they weren't buying and selling sentient flesh.

It had taken some time for the new Vain to get acclimated. The clone had been activated after the untimely demise of the last at the hands of rebels (as was reported by [member="Jairus Starvald"]) but now she was up and about again, strolling in heavy robes and bird like mask through the bazaar. After Dubrillion, [member="Darth Carnifex"] had changed her escort from Legion to Blackblades, and they weren't subtle in standing around.

"That one. Yes. Hrm, no, that one's rotting from the inside, what are you playing at?"

Vain sifted through the offerings like she was picking over fruit at a Primeday market.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Objective: Establish a Sith Assassin compound on Zygerria Four.

Darth Ophidia stepped over the still and stiff body as she entered the building. Her head pivoted on her long, slender neck as she peered around in the space her apprentice had claimed for them.

"Mmm. It is messy, and dirty."

The nezumi assassin shrugged from accross the room.

"Everything here is dirty, Master." "Quite ironic, considering."

She nodded down at the poisoned bodies of the felines, splayed on the floor in rigor mortis. The mouse had a wicked smirk on her face, mischievous to the bone.

"We will have to bring in a cleaning crew when we have it fitted." "It will be the cleanest house in the Meza, Master" "Only on the inside."

The corpse in the doorway was pulled into the room without a hand touching it, and the door closed softly. Darth Ophidia stepped into the kitchen and picked up a glass, her fingers hovering just outside its surface.

"Signal the crew and transfer the credits." The glass dropped to the floor and shattered. "Let's get this place up and running as quickly as possible."

Akito nodded and lowered her mask in order to use the internal coms. Minutes later, a team came bearing through. The bodies were zipped up in bags and the furniture was carried out. Before soon, the room was stripped of all its previous character, and cleaning droids rolled on in. The two assassins sat down and watched as the crew worked. There were worse ways to spend a day.

 

[Ria Misrani]

Zygerria IV

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Slave Market

Alvarex leaned forward and examined a specimen. "How much can he lift?"

"I see." He put a hand to his beard once more. "I'll take him." He said of a Weequay and pointed to a shuttle and placed his hands behind his back and continued. It was here that the Prince heard the rumblings of someone he knew nothing of. The tower of a man looked toward the person and he wasn't sure if he felt offended or intruded upon, perhaps both. His eyes forward looking past the person, and then back down. "Do I know you?" His voice evident of the irritation the person presented to him. Alvarex had no interest in anything other than to conclude what he had come to Zygerria for. "Excuse me." Alvarex politely side stepped and walked around them, moving ahead to his goal. Another human slave market, this one presented more variety in their stock. Thus far he had taken a handful of slaves for the family, and looked to take a few more and it was then he saw something. "A chiss?" His voice escaped him at his surprise.

The Prince strode toward the vendor. "How much?"

"Done." He handed him the credit stick, "this one goes my shuttle."

"And the two Mirialan's there, and the Zabrak." The last one was for him, personally.

[member="The Amalgam"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Tehkyram"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]

That was exactly the thing Empress Nil had been wanting to hear.

It was not a secret to anyone that slavery was generally looked down upon in the current Empire of the Sith and that was what the weeks of negotiations had slowly been moving towards. An acceptable compromise that would ensure slavery would continue to do its part to grow the wealth of Zygerria. Without it... the world was little more than a dust ball of ancient aspirations. The gift, in that regard, was a measured one to see if the negotiations had born fruit.

They had.

Almost enough to make Nil purr in joy. "I am immensely pleased we see eye to eye in this, Emperor Carnifex." A measured bow now, her hand resting on her chest. It was still not the deep bow of complete supplication but more than a Zygerrian ever had before a foreign ruler.

Some things simply had to be seen through a pragmatic lens as far as she could see.

"In the spirit of that I see no reason not to offer the fealty and support of the Zygerrian Empire to the Sith Empire and its liege, the Dark Lord of the Sith." And so it was done.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Emperor's smile widened, "Let it be written, let it be done."

A shake of the hand and the signing of an accordance was all that transpired after the short, but fruitful, discussion. The Emperor's signature loomed above the Zygerrian Empresses' on the flimsiplast document that detailed Zygerria's place in the Sith Empire, not as a subjugated world but as a semi-autonomous enclave with its own guaranteed rights, laws, and judicial system. Slavery would remain unrestricted in the Zygerrian realm, with the notable exception of Imperial citizens being the primary compromise. The Zygerrian Empress would retain her position of power and titles, but there would be no disillusion that she and her people would owe the Sith Empire a tributary tithe in order to keep these privileges.

As large ceremonial bells were rung across the planet to signify the accordance's signing, banners of the Sith Empire were unfurled side-by-side with those of the Zygerrian monarchy. Soldiers, once initially wary of their Zygerrian counterparts, now embraced shoulder-to-shoulder as they declared their allegiance and loyalty to the respective monarchs before universally lauding praise, glory, and wealth to the seemingly unassailable might of the Sith Empire.

The Emperor, as it turns out, would only stay for several rotations after the signing. He would acquaint himself with this Zygerrian Empress, and the two of them discovered that they shared many things in common. Though not accustomed to friendship, the Sith Emperor found an able acquaintance in the leader of the Zygerrians and had confidence in both her rule and her loyalty to his Empire. Pleased, the Emperor departed Zygerria and marshaled his forces to push deeper into the Tingel Arm.

[member="Tehkyram"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Verse Taggart"]​

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Location: Zygerria IV
Objective: Perusing the flesh market
Equipment: Tunic | Shades | Shoes

​

The young Cathar had his arms tucked behind his head.

Drifting across the sand, the repulsor-heely clad youngling did a slow circle as he followed along behind his parents. It felt as though they had been walking around the markets for hours. His mom liked this Haruun slave who'd looked like a total barbarian, but his dad had emphatically said no.

On the flip side, his dad had suggested a Zygerrian who looked like she could have been one of those underwear models -- Heartbeat House Angels or whatever they're called -- and his mom had put her foot down with all the ferocity of a Sith Lord.

Actually, his mom might be scarier than some Sith Lords.

So, here they were, going in circles while his parents debated just what kind of slave they were going to get. His mom said male, his dad said female, and neither seemed willing to compromise.

"That's a good looking boy you've got there."

Micah had Sith for teachers and this voice sent a shiver up his spine. Creepy. Seriously creepy. Even before the trio of Cathar had turned around, they knew what they were going to see. A Zygerrian slaver, unabashedly sizing the youngling up like a prize tuna.

Micah's father stepped out in front, interjecting himself between the slaver and the boy, even as his mother's arms pulled Micah back so that he was held lightly against her.

"Thank you," his father remarked in a neutral tone.

Stepping up beside the Lord tol Powl, the Zygerrian reached out to tousle the Cathar's furry hear. When he'd straightened back up, the man flashed a used speeder salesman's smile up at his mother, before he looked back at the Lord tol Powl. "I bet he's a handful," the slaver murmured, a hollow chuckle sending gooseflesh zipping up and down Micah's body, as the child started to fidget uncomfortably.

Father's eyes narrowed. The Lord tol Powl's tail gave a flicker as he nonchalantly quipped, "You've no idea..."

Casually stepping around so that he was now between the man and his family, the slaver reached down to pat the top of the child's head. "I could take him off your hands, you know," the slaver said, pausing as he held his hand out toward the man as though making him a friendly offer. "You could leave here a very rich man."

Micah's father gave a hollow laugh of his own, though the tail swish told the boy that his father was, in fact, not amused. "You can't afford him," the man boasted, through gritted teeth.

"Try me--ack!"

Clutching at his throat, the Zygerrian struggled to take a breath. Micah's father was confused for a moment, then looked over at his son. "Release him," the man ordered simply.

The child's hand clutched at the air. The power of the Dark Side moved through him. And the feeling was intoxicating.

Confusion turned to distress. Distress turned to panic. The Zygerrian dropped to his knees before the youngling, and the boy had naught but lifted a finger.

"Micah."

He felt the man's fear. He felt his heart racing. His desperation as his lungs started burning in his chest...

"Micah tol Powl."

The child's amber catseye gaze blinked, as though snapped out of a reverie. The Zygerrian gulped in air, collapsing to the floor as the child let his hand drop back by his side. "Yes, mother," the young Sith uttered obediently, as the family of three merely continued on their way.

The Lord tol Powl stepped on top of the slaver as he made his way.

 

[Mythos]

Wrapping up

Objective: Construct the Oversight

Fire burned high in every inch of the massive construction, parts moved from hundreds of miles away of even lightyears away. Mythos had slept no hours, not even a minute of rest throughout the entire construction, thus was his way, no one rests until the job is done. For miles it stretched, for miles upon miles the supply lines could be seen and from lightyears was the line of materials and personnel coming from. The finishing touches needed to be set, gravity well replacements and full internal reserve generators as well as a shield generator installed. Many had died during this construction, no one of importance but a blow to morale if there ever had been one. Workers had slowed down, fatigue and mind numbing repetitiveness grinded them down slowly and it began to hurt the deadline and production. Mythos did what any Sith Lord in charge of a massive obstructionist would have done in his shoes: He unleashed his goons to beat upon the workers and hurt them publicly, make an example of them to the other workers or kill them outright. This might have seemed extreme even to members of the Sith Empire but extreme deadlines required extreme standards to be set.

Blood now dripped in many of the pathways and walkways of the massive behemoth being built and the fear of the collective workforce, spanning millions of living beings and hundreds of miles in diameter fed Mythos like water quenches the traveler in the desert. It began to become very palpable to the other warriors next to Mythos that also shared a connection to the dark side of the force. Since he was paranoid beyond human comprehension Mythos chose to only surround himself with the absolute best warriors in the Ankhypt worlds and Ancient Eye Empire. Each one had several kills, force sensitive and armed with the best gear credits could afford... yet they were not large in numbers. Mythos always seemed to sacrifice numbers for quality and experience and this time in this construction he changed his tune. Quality of workers and material transportation would only slow him down and charge his wallet, He did not care for their safety and well being.. just that the job got done.

The blood spilled in the Oversight, dripped from walkways and corridors. The bodies of those workers that died of exhaustion and or beatings from the guards were thrown into the great forge fire to act as fuel for the great fire. Mythos had done it, he had created a twisted abomination of the foresight and now this thing was in the hands of the Empire.

"Only I can create these things. Only I can make mountains move. Glory to the Empire."



​

 

[Ballen-Ist]

Major [member="Vestille Thumahra"] was a bold one. Without a moment to even respond, Ballen-Ist simply leered down at the captain who piloted the AT-PAT, returning the human's nod from earlier with one of his own. One of the walkers had deployed several speeder bikes, all which had begun to circle the city's perimeter, making sure it was secure while further distracting the automated turrets that remained. From the cockpit, the Pureblood watched as the soldiers of the 31st group began to scale the wall, a quick and cunning strategy worthy of their ceasefire.

All that was left was getting those gates open. It would happen in time, Ballen-Ist was a patient man. For now, the other AT-PAT's ventral bay slid open, deploying two smaller walker models, the AT-AW. They were agile machines, able to make their way across the mesa fairly quickly. They began to patrol for the time being, their main purpose to eventually enter the city along with the speeder squads. A little bit of extra fire power to fully crush the remaining hope that burned in the hearts of these rebel slaves. Receiving Agent @Sebastion Thel's transmission, Ballen-Ist took note of the information, making sure to store it on his wrist-comm as he prepared to take the Major's final bit of advice.

Regardless of what happened next, one thing was crystal clear. This day belonged to the Sith Empire.

 

[Tehkyram]

Objective: Obey your master as he attends to business
Allies: Darth Carnifexhttp://starwarsrp.net/user/136-darth-carnifex/ // Verse Taggart // Darth Prazutis
Enemies: TBD

The delays had been intolerable, to say the least. Tehkyram could sense a great anger building up in his master, a fury to eclipse his own radiating from his withered form. And Tehkyram's fury was not meager in the slightest: he was being kept from an audience with royalty and excellency. The Zygerrian official had been consistently stopping to answer questions for his superiors, perform security checks, make sure proper clearances were granted, and so much more absolute nonsense. When the bells began to toll, Tehkyram knew that his master had reached his breaking point. Their attendant turned to them.

"Well gentlemen, I'm terribly sorry, but it seems that the conference has just concluuuuuuuuuuuuuuu..." Before he could finish the sentence his voice trailed off and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. The official collapsed to the ground, drooling mouth agape.

"What a pity," Darth Amortem observed. Tehkyram, meanwhile, leaned in over the collapsed official and sniffed. True, he had wanted to wring the Zygerrian's neck, but now he was more interested in finding out what happened.

"He's still alive, master," the acolyte reported.

"Well yes, he only suffered a rapid-onset stroke," Amortem said, making a quick diagnosis in spite of his lack of knowledge on Zygerrian anatomy. "Poor fellow will be crippled for life, it seems."

Tehkyram looked back to his master, whose fury had seemingly vanished into the ether. He had a faint smile, and a sort of newfound lightness to how he carried himself. "...How tragic," he wryly noted.

"Yes, very tragic indeed," Amortem declared, "Though not as tragic as us missing a chance to talk to my old friend. Perhaps next time."

And with that, Tehkyram helped his master back to the shuttle, preparing to arrange a flight back to his estate on Serenno. The final observation haunted him. Was his master truly furious with his failing to attend the conference? Or was the pointlessness of the whole endeavor designed solely to annoy him? Was his master satisfied by crippling the Zygerrian? Or was he satisfied with how he jerked around Tehkyram for a few days? Was the ambiguity of the whole scenario the true torture? Such layers upon layers of cruelty to meditate on!

 

[Darth Athora]

"So, what have you brought me?"

"Enough slaves to keep your mining operation running for quite some time."

"That so?"

"Indeed, Admiral Denko. Not only that, but we will provide the needed transportation for the raw materials to your foundries. It is the least we can do for the great Sith Empire."

"Mr. Jero Tyne. I think we have a deal."

Zahori extended her hands towards the Zygerrian who then took hold of it and shook it firmly. She turned to look down into the developing mines as the slaves were being pushed to work. It brought a smile on her face to see those lesser than her at work for her and her company.

 

[The Amalgam]

Some people just don't do small talk, it seems, The Amalgam thought to herself as the man quickly went away. Why people were so willing to invest in these bags of treachery were a mystery to her. She understood you could not kill everyone...but a slave is always watching, always measuring how long their master turns their back on them. And then when the master slips, the slave strikes.

The Amalgam knew this because that had been her lot in life once. Sure, she hadn't gone on the auction block like these poor fools...she had been a little too ruthless back then, even before finding her calling, to end up in one of these places. But effectively thats what her apprenticeship had ended up being--a distinction without meaning in terms of trying to differentiate it from slavery. The Amalgam knew what obedience was, and how one could chafe at it. And while it would be necessary to take that risk, and inevitably keep her own back turned a second too long one day, she was not eager for such a burden so early in the game. She was barely getting her bearings. A great deal had changed in two decades. How many times had the map been redrawn just in that short period? The Amalgam had been too busy with her own issues to waste time on history for more than idle curiosity. The faces may have changed. The game never did.

She spotted a number of cheap laser pistols, looked like good quality, but when it came to laser weapons, the Shapeshifter preferred Corellian. Some of the other weapons, however, drew her attention. She went over to the stand, pointing to a small, compact blaster pistol. The vendor, a pudgy Toydarian fluttered over and the Darksiders nose curdled at his stench, wearing well stitched clothes in blue for his species.

"Hey there. Look like you see something you want. Bao always knows." The Toydarian, Bao, said with enthusiasm.

"I'm sure you are, but one like me has particular tastes. Tell me, this one..." The purple eyed woman gestured to the ruddy red, compact blaster pistol on display behind a glassteel case.

"Is that what I think it is? A Sith Assassin Pistol?"

Bao beamed.

"The Lady knows her guns! That's right...Civil War Era, specifications-perfect replica. It is as close as you can get to vintage without breaking into one of those damned tombs for it. Had a guy who owned a real one, once. Said it handled like a dream...it was cursed though, poor bastard. Died of severe self-flesh ripping. Tore himself to pieces in front of his own family on a picnic. I learn two weeks later that pistol had been found in some kind of Sith Urn he had bought at a pawn shop not far from here. That's why I never by second hand from these places. Only the new stuff. Or the classics!"

In spite of his revolting smell, The Amalgam could relate. She'd once bought a synth blade second hand from a weapons dealer much like this one. After it had summoned that unspeakable horror at midnight, she had swore off ever jumping at a lightsaber deal again. She had never been much of an enthusiast for synthetic blades, but sometimes she would grow a little self conscious that she did not have a regular old, blood shine blade like everybody else. But it would mean sacrificing some of the manuverability of her standard attack pattern. Every little ounce of agility counted in her fights. Besides, when it came to weapons, nearly every individual in society had long since decided to go with what worked for them.

"How much for that classic, then?"

Bao's grin grew wider.

"I couldn't let it go normally for anything less than a thousand..."

"I'm sensing a 'but' about to be added to our little chat."

"Buuuuut...if you're willing to do a favor for Bao, Bao give you a discount...I'll drop it down to four hundred."

The Amalgam raised an eyebrow.

"And what could a well off merchant such as you need?" She asked dryly, already guessing it to be murder.

Bao, instead, surprised her.

"I need something stolen from a hanger not far from here, owned by the gang of slavers controlling this block here..." he whispered quietly.

"And what makes you think I can help you?" The Amalgam wondered half-heartedly aloud.

"Bao knows evil when Bao sees it. But Bao finds evil useful for Bao's purpose."

"Sounds like I'm doing an awful lot just for a discount."

"But you don't understand. Hanger is special. Hanger ships weapons." The alien whispered. "I need the manifest of a merchant vessel, to track the planets its going to to obtain its arms. I've been undercut lately by its owners, and I want to find their source so I can use my connections to force them out of business on Zygerria. You do this for me...I can get you a line into Zygerria's more 'premium' markets...plus the hanger has something special. Something really vintage. You like classics right? That hanger has a private garage. Own by the boss of this block. Guess what he's got.

The Amalgam showed only a slight amount of interest.

"Do tell..."

Bao leaned closer and she struggled not to gag.

"Vintage. Royal. Guard. TIE. Interceptor."

The Amalgam now took a genuine interest then.

"How the hell did one of these...businessmen...get their hands on something like that?"

"It was found was found in an abandoned Imperial Space Station. Some Moff's personal base, once from the looks of it. Vacuum sealed hanger section. Whole bunch of vintage TIE's. But that Royal Guard Starfighter was the prize. You know the stories, right? Even more dangerous than the regular interceptors. Even now, if you put a Royal Interceptor up against a TIE Silencer? I still think the Interceptor would beat it...if only just barely."

"The best weapon means nothing if you are not good at using it..." The Amalgam replied in a very icy manner. "Such a fine weapon does not belong in the hands of the unwashed. Nor do all his other purloined goods. Is there any catch about the hanger?"

"The Leader's name is Grafolm. The only way into that hanger is through the key card he has on his neck at all times. Have fun..." Bao said, opening the display and handing her the pistol. She paid four hundred credits, and another hundred for power cells. She had just started to admire the new weapon while walking to a local slave stand, silently disgusted at how the slaves just stood there instead of fighting when she saw Terax out of the corner of her eye walking through the crowd.

"Greased enough palms?" she asked, blowing some hair strands out of her face.

"I got us a way in through a private escape route running under the street." He answered very quietly, pretending to be interested in the slaves. "We'll have to be quick. In and out. Guy I paid off can only keep all those security systems he shut off for maintenance down so long."

"He betrays his own so easily?"

"When I told him he likely had a Dark Sided Artifact in his possession, he decided he'd act on his groups behalf and cut their losses. He requested as a courtesy that you don't kill 'Too' many."

"Say, Terax, you want to get on my good side?" The Amalgam asked in a near whisper. "How would you feel about killing the leader of this place and assuming control of this gang as well?"

Terax eyed her suspiciously. "What do you get out of it?"

"Fifteen percent cut on all your sales, and whatever is in the man's computer files and his private garage."

Terax snorted. "Bao got your ear? He's been trying to dangle that carrot over everyone for weeks you know. Never was a fan of starfighters, so I didn't bite."

"Interested?"

"More men means more daggers pointed at my back...but also more money. Deal." Terax whispered. "Follow me, route's close by. We got fifteen minutes to get in, slit the belly of that thieving bastard Marvin, gut Grafolm, and then find some way to make all those poor fools inside obey the new boss..."

The Amalgam liked his aggressive nature. Killing him wouldn't do. He was a cut above the other rabble of Zygerrians...He knew opportunity.

Plus, having a slaver gang owe you money forever is always a nice bonus.