(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
Sommer stepped closer, taking his caf cup and sipping without asking.
"You think it's dangerous?"
"You think it's dangerous?"
Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos
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Private The Lights That Weren’t On (BIRTHDAY BASH!!!!)
- Thread starter Sommer Dai
- Start date
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
"I think it's intended to look dangerous. Precision invitation, custom signature perfume, military branding without the flag... They know who you are, Som. And they know what you built."
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, watching her carefully.
"But what gets me?"
He tapped the note again.
"They didn't offer credits. They didn't offer weapons. They offered conversation."
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, watching her carefully.
"But what gets me?"
He tapped the note again.
"They didn't offer credits. They didn't offer weapons. They offered conversation."
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
Sommer looked out at the water, lips pursed.
"Power wants to speak."
"Power wants to speak."
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
"Yeah. But sometimes it whispers, so you lean in to hear it. And that's when it strikes."
A long pause passed between them. Sommer rested against the railing, arms folded loosely.
"Still curious?" he asked.
A long pause passed between them. Sommer rested against the railing, arms folded loosely.
"Still curious?" he asked.
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
"I'm always curious."
She glanced at him over her shoulder. "But I'm not stupid."
She glanced at him over her shoulder. "But I'm not stupid."
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
Andrew stood, moved behind her, hands gently sliding around her waist.
His voice lowered.
"If you go… I'm going too."
They kissed, brief and slow — the kind that said we've survived worse — and we're not done surviving yet
His voice lowered.
"If you go… I'm going too."
They kissed, brief and slow — the kind that said we've survived worse — and we're not done surviving yet
General of Signa-Ki RND
Elsewhere on Utapau – A Cliffside Observation Post
The polished viewport gave a perfect line of sight to the cliffside retreat in the distance. From here, it looked like a pearl tucked into the crags — delicate, sun-warmed, seemingly safe.
But General Linn Dobson didn't believe in safe.
Only in being prepared.
Only in obtaining leverage.
She stood motionless in full black operations attire, her silver-streaked hair pulled into a tight braid that coiled like a whip. Her left glove glimmered with a faint light — the neural-sync threads connecting to the command node implanted in her palm.
Behind her, a Signa-Ki technician stood at attention, waiting for her signal.
Through the ocular lens of the micro-drone she'd deployed days ago, Dobson watched Sommer and Andrew on the balcony — their conversation inaudible but easy to read. The tension. The pull. The edge of knowing.
A faint flicker of a smile touched Dobson's lips, cold and humorless.
"They're talking about me," she said, as though confirming a bet she made with herself.
With a subtle flick of her fingers, the drone banked and retreated silently into the sea mist.
She turned sharply. "Open secure line. Echo-black channel."
The tech tapped his pad. "Line open, General."
Dobson stepped forward, spine straight, eyes sharp as razors. Her voice was calm and metallic.
The channel went dead.
Dobson turned back toward the ocean, eyes narrowing as the first signs of twilight bled into the sky.
"You may be royalty on Nar Shaddaa," she murmured to herself.
"But here... you'll be studied like a rare weapon. Or forged into one."
Behind her, the distant hum of the Signa-Ki carrier shuttle began to spool.
And far below, Sommer laughed in the arms of a man who didn't yet realize he'd just been drafted into a war they couldn't see coming.
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
The ship was flawless. Seamless pearl-hull plating, iridescent like rain on metal. When Sommer and Andrew boarded, it was already humming — cool air perfumed faintly with crushed blue lotus and some trace of the obsidian fragrance from the gift box.
There was no pilot to greet them.
Only a synth-voiced steward: polite, sterile, unblinking.
Sommer arched a brow but said nothing as they took their seats. The chairs were too comfortable, the safety webbing too soft. Every luxury accounted for — except warmth.
"You feel that?" she asked as the ramp retracted behind them.
There was no pilot to greet them.
Only a synth-voiced steward: polite, sterile, unblinking.
Sommer arched a brow but said nothing as they took their seats. The chairs were too comfortable, the safety webbing too soft. Every luxury accounted for — except warmth.
"You feel that?" she asked as the ramp retracted behind them.
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
Andrew nodded, slow. "Yeah. Feels like we're passengers on a ship we didn't pay for."
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
The Kiora Anthess lifted soundlessly, gliding into Utapau's upper atmosphere. The view shifted from rocky cliffs to open sea to the upper clouds — then it all became deep blue and quiet.
And stayed that way.
And stayed that way.
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
They expected at least an itinerary. A welcoming message. Perhaps a steward or system explaining their destination.
Instead: nothing.
No questions. No updates.
No stars visible through the viewing pane — the tint had shifted into some sort of polarized mode, obscuring everything outside.
Andrew stood, walked up toward the nav panel.
It was locked.
"This isn't standard nav protocol," he muttered, running a hand along the edge. "Route scrubbing. Cloaked telemetry. Either someone's smuggling us in…"
He looked back toward Sommer. "…or smuggling us out."
Instead: nothing.
No questions. No updates.
No stars visible through the viewing pane — the tint had shifted into some sort of polarized mode, obscuring everything outside.
Andrew stood, walked up toward the nav panel.
It was locked.
"This isn't standard nav protocol," he muttered, running a hand along the edge. "Route scrubbing. Cloaked telemetry. Either someone's smuggling us in…"
He looked back toward Sommer. "…or smuggling us out."
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
Sommer stayed seated, legs crossed, eyes sharp and quiet.
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
"Still curious?" he asked.
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
"Curious isn't the word," she said softly. "This is too perfect. And I don't trust perfection."
Hours later — or was it less? Time felt… slow.
A tone chimed from the ceiling.
Sommer stood, smoothing her coat.
Hours later — or was it less? Time felt… slow.
A tone chimed from the ceiling.
It was the same sterile voice. But the cadence this time was different — almost reverent.
Sommer stood, smoothing her coat.
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
Andrew flexed his hand, a tiny hidden weapon sliding into his palm with a familiar whirr.
the panels began to open.
And for the first time, they saw the land.
The ship descended over a vast jagged canyon, lit with pale blue bioluminescent veins cutting through cracked stone. Mist clung to the earth like a burial shroud. No cities. No comms towers. No other ships in sight.
Just a single structure rising from the canyon floor — a black obelisk, ringed by faint golden lights, as though the entire base glowed from within a ribcage.
"That's no research station," Andrew whispered.
the panels began to open.
And for the first time, they saw the land.
The ship descended over a vast jagged canyon, lit with pale blue bioluminescent veins cutting through cracked stone. Mist clung to the earth like a burial shroud. No cities. No comms towers. No other ships in sight.
Just a single structure rising from the canyon floor — a black obelisk, ringed by faint golden lights, as though the entire base glowed from within a ribcage.
"That's no research station," Andrew whispered.
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
Sommer stared. "It's a vault."
The shuttle began its final descent.
Neither of them spoke again — not as the ship docked in total silence, not as the ramp extended without sound or ceremony.
But as they stood at the threshold and looked out at the monolithic entrance, Sommer finally said:
"It wants something from us."
The shuttle began its final descent.
Neither of them spoke again — not as the ship docked in total silence, not as the ramp extended without sound or ceremony.
But as they stood at the threshold and looked out at the monolithic entrance, Sommer finally said:
"It wants something from us."
General of Signa-Ki RND
Deep within Signa-Ki — Command Annex Zeta
The room was cold, sterile, and quiet—despite the dozen staff operating its consoles.Light from bio-monitors and data filters flickered across glassy floor tiles. A large suspended display sphere hovered in the center, rotating slowly and displaying Sommer Dai's full biometric profile in shimmering gold: height, age markers, known surgeries, genetic markers, neurological fluctuations, even pheromone composition.
General Linn Dobson stood at the head of the room in her pressed dark uniform, hands behind her back, face carved from calm stone. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was the kind of quiet that never needed to raise.
"Split them the moment they disembark."
Technician 6-Beta nodded crisply. "Confirmed, ma'am. He'll be directed to the Atrium for a tactical consultation on perimeter security protocols. She will be escorted to Biological Applications."
"Good," Dobson said without looking at him. "Ensure Lonek has unrestricted access to what he thinks is the facility's upper command net. We want him curious, not suspicious."
She turned to her left.
A second technician was scrolling through tissue reconstruction scans, cloning matrices slowly mapping across a skeletal reference.
Dobson's silver-ringed finger pointed.
"Stop there."
The screen froze.
A captured image from Nar Shaddaa — Sommer on the pole, suspended mid-spiral, muscles taut, body arched in a perfect display of balance, seduction, and control.
"Overlay her kinetic pattern onto 003A's neural ghost."
A beat passed. The overlay processed. A glow swept through the clone model's nervous system in a near-perfect sync.
Dobson smiled. For real.
"There. That's the moment."
She stepped forward, eyes on the data.
"We've been chasing the wrong physical profiles. I don't need another assassin, or diplomat, or soldier. I need a performer."
One of the doctors shifted awkwardly.
"Ma'am, 003A is incomplete. Emotional variance from this source could destabilize—"
Dobson held up a finger.
The room went silent again.
"We are not replicating Sommer Dai," she said sharply. "We are liberating the parts of her that make her dangerous. The devotion she inspires. The control she exercises without touching a blade. She doesn't destroy her enemies — she turns them into lovers."
She let that hang.
"The clone will not be Sommer. It will be better. No trauma. No distractions. And fully loyal to Signa-Ki."
A soft ping echoed — a final DNA profile confirmation.
On the hovering display, a new designation pulsed into view:
Dobson's eyes narrowed slightly at the name.
"Begin tissue acceleration. I want Dahlia grown to Phase Two within the week."
She turned on her heel and strode toward the exit.
"Prep the observation teams. Sommer Dai enters this facility in fifteen minutes. Let's ensure she never truly leaves."
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
The shuttle hissed as it pressurized with the obsidian landing platform. The light inside changed — from blue-white starlight to a muted, clinical amber glow. When the ramp dropped, the air that met them was still, cold, and scentless.
Two figures waited at the base — not guards, not soldiers. Attendants in charcoal-gray robes with visors over their eyes and datapads folded across their arms.
Neither smiled. Neither bowed.
One stepped forward and addressed them in a serene, automated tone:
"I don't like that word," she muttered.
Two figures waited at the base — not guards, not soldiers. Attendants in charcoal-gray robes with visors over their eyes and datapads folded across their arms.
Neither smiled. Neither bowed.
One stepped forward and addressed them in a serene, automated tone:
Sommer turned her head slowly toward Andrew.
"I don't like that word," she muttered.
Andrew Lonek
(L.T.I President)
"Which one?" he asked, though he already knew.
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
"Acclimatization."