Junction THE TRINITY AFFAIR | TSC & THR Junction of Commenor and New Plympto

[Verity Stuyveris]

​

Verity smirked at the threat. If she ran, she was sure she could get somewhere beyond Mercy's reach by the time the woman tore down the turbolift doors. Not a hundred percent sure, no. Eighty, maybe. Good enough odds. Verity kept herself in shape, spent time on the treadmill in the Senate gym and in her flat. She was no slouch. She had some strength, a lot of stamina.

But the truth was, as uncomfortable as this situation was, being present with a Sith Lord who didn't seem, immediately, inclined to separate her head from her neck was preferable to prowling a dark ship crawling with Mercy's peasant underlings who would not hesitate to do so. And besides, if Republic forces were able to apprehend this walking crime against humanity, if Verity ran now, it would mean not being in the photographs.

Unacceptable.

She stopped at an emergency station and popped open the little plastic door. Verity was pleased to see roughly the same kit she would have found on one of Stuyveris Staryards' own products: a light she clipped to her shoulder, a medkit she tucked into a pocket, and a loaded flare gun and some flares. The former she slid into the waistband of her trousers -- carefully -- once she was sure the safety was on, then made sure her blazer more than hid it, and the latter she tucked into a free pocket.

"Keep your shirt on," Verity called back the way she came, her voice echoing off the walls so that it arrived distant and muffled, but unmistakable, back to The Big Woman™. She ducked under a pipe, clambered over a housing of some kind, and found herself in the turbolift shaft. As she suspected, there was a release handle on each of the doors. She went to the one Mercy had been standing near, crouched, and pulled the release. With some effort and a slight creak, the handle gave, and the door latches released, allowing them to settle ajar.

"Well, don't just stand there," she quipped, snapping impatiently. "Places to be."

Mercy​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

The Trinity Affair: Objective One
Interacting with: Lorn Reingard
Eventually: Acier Moonbound
Open for any TSC characters to interrupt at any time!

Chandrila had always preferred diplomacy to fleets.

In that way, they were not unlike Naboo.

Sibylla stood with her hands loosely folded before her; the white and gold Nabooian diplomatic robes she wore had been chosen deliberately for their formality as much as for their neutral diplomatic tone. And while she was no Interim Queen or Senator, she was the Voice of Naboo nonetheless, so it had made sense for her to attend.

Chandrila's political structure bore a striking resemblance to Naboo's own delicate balance between elected governance and noble houses. The traditionalist bloc within Chandrila's displaced aristocracy still carried tremendous influence over the government-in-exile, and the Royal Assembly had felt that a Nabooian voice familiar with that dynamic might serve as an effective advisor during negotiations.

However, the recent turbulence in Corellia, Moorja, and several other systems had made one thing abundantly clear -- Sibylla was no longer permitted to travel without proper protection. Not only had Naboo assigned a contingent of Royal Guard to accompany her, but on this occasion, they had also insisted upon something more.

The Sword of Shiraya himself.

Sibylla privately thought the measure a touch excessive, but with Bastila unable to accompany her on this mission, the Order had sent another in her stead. It just so happened that Bastila's master was none other than Lorn Reingard , which made the formal introductions aboard the Trinity somewhat awkward.

For the sake of diplomacy, they had both been forced to pretend they were strangers.

It had been… mildly absurd to say the least.

By the time the Trinity was underway, Sibylla had excused her guards to leave her office and set guard outside, as she wanted to have a quiet conversation with Jedi Knight Reingard.

As soon as they were alone, those hazel eyes drifted toward the bearded Jedi, both delicate brown brows lifting with clear amusement as the true identity of the man who had been assisting her with the clandestine information gathering through Ace finally revealed itself.

"The Sword of Shiraya, is it?" she asked rather bluntly, setting her datapad down upon the table.

"I must confess, I had not expected the Order's most formidable blade to be wandering about Yavin Four unattended." A faint, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Especially not a member of the Council."

To say she was curious would have been an understatement.

Whatever answer he might have given, however, never came. The lights flickered once overhead, then again before suddenly plunging the room into darkness.

Sibylla froze for only a fraction of a second, her breath drawing slowly into her lungs as instinct shot through every sense. Somewhere beyond the office walls came the distant metallic slam of blast doors locking into place.

From the pit of her belly, a knot twisted even as her eyes adjusted slowly to the faint spill of emergency starlight from the viewport.

"Well..." Sibylla murmured at last, the slightest edge in her voice as she did her best to try and remain despite the tension that had crept into her chest.

Those kohl-lined eyes slid toward the shadowed outline of the Jedi.

"I suppose," she continued lightly, though the wry note in her voice betrayed her suspicion, "that it would be rather optimistic of me to assume this is merely a harmless power failure… would it not?"

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique didn't turn her head as her eyes slid slowly in Lysander von Ascania 's direction as he stood from his chair and spoke in defense of the Covenant. As she'd entered the room expecting to be speaking to friendly parties, her lilac glareshades were translucent, which left her golden eyes visible as he'd spoken. Not a twitch marred the expression beneath him despite what was said.

When he concluded, Dominique spared a moment to look back to the Chandrila representative. When they weren't instantly forthcoming, she slowly adjusted her stance to better face the one that had engaged. "Dominique Vexx, Chancellor of the High Republic. Before we engage in matters of State, might I know the reason for your presence aboard this ship? Negotiating the reintegration of a government in exile in the wake of those 'realities' you spoke of, or concerned third party ansswering their desperate cry for help?" A Sith spokesman stood right there -- having been lounging comfortably by the time she entered -- and sought to play off presence circumstances as happenstance?

"The answer to your question is simple: people wish to govern themselves without threat of mystic powers, weapons of mass destruction, or at the end of a lightsaber. As to the manner in which we collectively address those challenges that come up on our many worlds, that we can discuss at length if you're willing to accept my earlier statement as an axiom."

Point Emissary of the Covenant was it? So they had some measure of diplomatic channel after all? To think the High Republic was having such difficulty getting a solid response to their request to meet if that were so. Dominique hoped present circumstances weren't their response.

 

[Mykel Dawson]

___________________________________________________________________​

Objective 1
Allies: Republic
Enemies: Sith
Directly Engaging: OPEN
Equipment: Jedi Robes (Includes Armorweave Bodyglove), Lightwhip, Shatter Pistol

Not again.

That was the thought that ran through Mykel's head as a Sith Knight now wailed on him with a double-bladed lightsaber.

He had gotten his first nasty experience with a Sith jumping him on Moorja, nearly taken down by the assassin and his legion of mentally enslaved thralls. However, he had managed to get his own licks in at Tython with a little subterfuge of his own. But now it was back to being ambushed again on the Trinity.

This couldn't keep happening. Republic Intelligence needed to get it together.

When the Sith had finally sprung their trap, he had thrown himself in front of a team of Republic Naval Engineers who had just disembarked from the Republic's ship with the technomancer to check in on the sputtering systems of Chandrilian cruiser. Republic soldiers were a tantalizing target, but a Jedi even more so. Within the darkness, his brilliant azure blade drew in the hateful Sith like a moth to flame.

The Sith was a hurricane of movement, the double-blade rotating continuously in vicious combinations that tore into Mykel's defenses. The Consular had adopted a more passive Soresu stance, keeping his blade close to his body as he barely managed to parry each strike in turn. Occasionally he tried to throw out a counterstrike of his own, but each attack was made in vain as the Sith easily swatted his blade aside. The Sith would then launch into another punishing combination. Each exchange pushed Mykel farther back down the corridor. He stumbled. He panted. His arms trembled beneath the strain.

Finally the Sith pulled back, breaking the assault and twirling his hilt playfully in one hand like a cheerleader's baton.

"I feel your fear, boy. Why don't you just surrender now? You have potential, being wasted among these dullards."

"Never! I'll never betray the Republic," He stammered, heaving for air during the brief respite. "I'll never give up on my friends!"

"Then you will die here, welp. Such a waste. At least try to make your end worthy."

Mykel sensed that engineers had finally cleared the corridor as he had ordered. Good. This farce could finally end.

"For Democracy!" Mykel roared as he rushed forward with an apparent resurgence of courage.

Mykel tried to seize the initiative, hammering on the Sith with a far more aggressive stance. His blade came down in rapid strikes meant to batter through the Sith's guard. Yet the Dark Sider still batted him away as easily as before, almost lazily now, clearly toying with him. The Sith's counters came half heartedly, almost inviting the Jedi to press harder. It all felt deliberate, as if he was luring the Jedi into a trap.

But the trap was Mykel's to set.

He lunged forward again, appearing to commit to a thrust aimed at the Sith's gut during a brief opening in the rotation of the blade. The Sith Knight was clearly prepared, subtly shifting his weapon into optimal position to cleave through the Jedi's arms or torso the moment he struck. However at the last second, instead of flying forward, he suddenly juked right out of the arc of the Sith's looming hang blade without any apparent shift in posture. At the same instant his blade shot forward, twisting around the Sith's hilt and then his forearms as it unfurled into its snaking whip form.

The lightwhip could not cut through the Sith's armor plating and weave, but it could burn and bite something fierce. The startled Sith involuntary released his grip on hilt from the pain. It was then that Mykel surged forward, reeling the disarmed Sith with toward him as he simultaneously telekinetically plucked the falling lightsaber mid-air with his free hand and used it to deliver the decapitating strike.

Both the smoking helmeted head and its corpse came tumbling to the ground with dull clanking as Mykel deactivated his lightwhip and crumpled the enemy lightsaber with an implosion of telekinesis, crimson blades hissing out of existence. He let the ruined hilt drop to the floor with the remains of its master, the cracked ruby crystals bleating in the Force like a stuck pig.

The Knight could finally drop his act as the foolhardy greenhorn, expression now void like the dark corridor before him. Not too long ago, he really had been that innocent Padawan. But all the fighting and killing was becoming as rote as those basic Soresu katas he had just ran through. He didn't like what he was becoming in these wars against the Sith, even if it was what victory required.

He pulled up his hood with a gloved hand while melting into the darkness, embracing its shadowy grasp as he finally retreated to reconnect with the engineers.

There was still work to do, and now a delegation to save.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Acier Moonbound​

"Just Lorn," he said.

He drifted around the office as he spoke, picking up a small ornament from a shelf and setting it down again. Anything to keep his hands busy. The title she used felt heavy in the room.

Sword of Shiraya. It sounded like someone else. Someone polished and ceremonial. Not him.

When she questioned him about wandering around Yavin Four unattended, he finally turned to face her. "You said it yourself, my lady. I am a formidable blade. I do not need a babysitter."The words came out quiet and flat. He did not explain further. No point. Any Order loved titles and reputations. Lorn preferred anonymity. Guard duty for Naboo nobility had never been part of his life plan. Bastila had smiled politely when she asked him to take the assignment. That should have been warning enough.

Then the lights flickered. Once. Twice. Darkness swallowed the room.

Lorn's irritation vanished in an instant. His eyes closed as the distant clang of blast doors echoed through the ship. He reached outward through the Force, letting the currents settle around him. Sibylla's presence surfaced first. Uneasy. Tight with controlled composure. Beneath it was something older. A memory of pain that never quite faded. The scar over her eye, he thought. Some sort of trauma in her past. A recent past if he had to guess. The last time he saw her, she did not have that scar.

He pushed further. Across the Trinity, fear rippled through the Force like a storm front. Crew members. Passengers. Panic spreading through the ship. And then something else. A single presence cutting through the noise. Focused. Moving.

"Hmph."

Lorn stepped toward the door, letting her comment hang unanswered. The presence outside was dark. He placed a hand against the door. Through the metal he heard the scuffle. A muffled shout. Then the wet thud of a body hitting the floor. Another.

Lorn stepped back. His hand settled on the hilt at his belt just as the door slid open. A red blade flared to life in the dark. Lorn's ignited a heartbeat later. Yellow light filled the doorway as the two sabers crashed together. The Sith struck fast, driving forward with heavy blows meant to overwhelm. Lorn gave ground once, turning the strike aside with a small rotation of his wrist. Sparks scattered across the floor.

The Rodian pressed again, slashing low. Lorn pivoted. The crimson blade passed inches from his robes. His counter came quick and controlled, forcing the attacker back into the hallway. The Sith lunged in frustration. That was the mistake.

Lorn slipped inside the swing. One clean arc of yellow light cut through the air, decapitating him. Silence followed. The Rodian's body collapsed at the threshold. Lorn stood still for a moment, his saber humming softly in the dark hallway. The glow illuminated the fallen guards nearby.

"Hmph."

He deactivated the blade. The sudden darkness returned. Lorn bent down, grabbed the Rodian's head by one of the ridges, and tossed it casually into the corridor beside the body. It landed near the other fallen guards. He wiped his hand on his trousers and walked back inside.

"Sorry," he said, lowering himself into a chair like they had merely been interrupted mid-conversation.

The door remained open behind him. Across the room, he noticed the look on Sibylla's face. Concern. Confusion. Right. She could not feel what he felt. He leaned back slightly, listening to the approaching ripple in the Force.

"Oh," Lorn added after a moment. "Your friend is almost here."

 

[Liana Organa]

​

Gram Arranda - Vestra Tane​

Alderaan was not the only world living in fear of Sith occupation. When a Chandrilan vessel unexpectedly entered their system, hailing any who might listen with an SOS, the Alderaanians were among those to answer the call. What these delegates found on board, however, was more than they had bargained for.

The Sith, in the flesh. Until today Liana had only known them as boogeymen, recounted through tales told by her mother in confidence. Now they were here. In Alderaanian space no less. Was this the first step in a grander plan? Liana's thoughts filled with all kinds of hypothetical nightmares. This was what she and Gram had been fighting to prevent all along.

"WARNING: VIOLENCE DETECTED!!! LOCKDOWN IS NOW IN EFFECT. PLEASE REMAIN CALM. SECURITY WILL BE WITH YOU SHORTLY. IN THE MEANTIME, ENJOY THE CLASSIC SOUNDS OF BOBOLO BAKER'S ALL-BITH BAND."

As fate would have it, both side would be forced to play nice for the time being. One Sith made for a fine example of the sudden change in circumstances, collapsing to the ground incapacitated the moment he got aggressive. It would work in the Republic's favor for now, but as for what would happen when the lockdown ended? Liana preferred not to think about that.

One Sith in particular seemed to take note of the Alderaanians. Her gaze settled on them like a predator whose prey it could not reach. This woman would have already butchered them both if she could. The junior diplomat swallowed thickly, unable to think straight in the moment. Yet this Sith saw fit to kill the time with small talk. It was a simple, yet stupefying display of the differences in their confidence and power. All at once Liana was struck by the reality of their situation: The Sith operated on a whole other playing field from her. Their rules, their code of conduct if even there was one, had no place for stuffy politicians and snotty princesses. They were a midday snack for villains like these.

Suddenly, Liana wished she had decided to continue Jedi training all these years. "…Hobbies?" She repeated, the question finally registering in her stunned mind, "…Who are you?"

 

[Ghruna]

OBJECTIVE TWO​

Ghruna had been stuffed into hiding behind a false panel in the wall. She could barely contain her anticipation.

Republic leadership. Whilst she found the ambush somewhat cowardly, at least it would force them to fight for their lives. There was nothing quite like the fight against a wounded animal in a corner. She still had scares from such battles.

The moment came and she burst out of hiding. The closest person to her ( Zaiya Ceti ) was a scrawny little thing. Ghruna resolved to put it out of its misery before finding a worthy opponent.

A blinding flash of light was followed by pain.

"WARNING: VIOLENCE DETECTED!!! LOCKDOWN IS NOW IN EFFECT. PLEASE REMAIN CALM. SECURITY WILL BE WITH YOU SHORTLY. IN THE MEANTIME, ENJOY THE CLASSIC SOUNDS OF BOBOLO BAKER'S ALL-BITH BAND."

Ghruna snarled. She would have slammed herself into the shield to test it, but another sith tried that close by. They went down, shuddering and convulsing.

"Grakh!"

Zaiya was confronted by a snarling, frustrated warrior. A spitting image of the minotaur who had brutalised herself and Aris. The resemblance was uncanny. Because this was his daughter.

 

[Her]

---

---

Tags: Balun Dashiell | Dominique Vexx | Ayumi Pallopides | Vestra Tane | Lysander von Ascania | Gram Arranda | Liana Organa | Ghruna | Zaiya Ceti

---

' Lockdown '

It's a crazy thing what fear can make a girl do. In the sudden motions of a would-be ambush, wrought by the covenant Sith in the Chancellor's Suite, Her had thought she had seen the thrum and flashes of a dozen Lightsaber blades ready to butcher every man, woman and other in the room. Alas, it was only one of them who had been felled by the automated defences engaged in the room, and the flurry of bolts overhead were not lethal but set on stun. Too used to those places out there in the Outer Rim, unfortunately for Her. You don't kill here unless it's a last resort. That will take some adjustment.

No, out here in the most civilized parts of the galaxy, even when there were monsters like Vestra Tane in the room, there was still a place for a negotiation. To work things out. Her had forgotten what it was like to be back in civilization where there were rules, and rights. Too used to the pointed blaster of the Imperial-Stormtrooper and the autocratic nonsense that cut through the red tape to suit an agenda or purpose. Paranoia was there too. On the run from the Mandalorians, Diarchs and her former colleagues in Project Tion. Was it arrogance to think that the Sith Covenant had come here for her?

You need to move on from Brosi, probably. Fresh waters. Learn to swim again, kid. Galaxies always been bigger than you.

Wrapping her palms around the Chandrilese delegates shoulders, Her rolled his stunned body off themselves and stood back up. Adjusting the shades back onto her face (to conceal the crimson eyes behind them) Her surveyed the room. A half-dozen bodies laid around. Some were the Chandrilian delegation, others from the Republic, and of course, it wasn't difficult to recognise who were the Sith. Scarred faces with tough exteriors held by men, women and other ilk who traversed from the Outer Rim systems to conquer the Galactic Empire.

If Chancellor Vexx wasn't too careful it would be the High Republic next, Her foresaw.

It's a funny galaxy too. Full of ironies and co-incidences. Transience can do that. Two boys that Her had known and crossed paths with in the past albeit never directly. There was Commander Dashiell of the Tingel Arm Coalition whose rebellion had been crushed by her former associates, and speaking of association, there was Lysander von Ascania formerly of the Dark Court. We all find our way somewhere else when things don't work out, don't we boys?

---

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Dominique Vexx
​

Drawing from firsthand experience, numerous officials adopted a kind of distinct theatrical flair whenever addressing Sith. Most were delusional into believing they carried the entire galaxy's moral compass wherever they went. At least the one before him did not seem inclined toward that sort of performance.

Her glance toward Chandrila's representative drew nothing from him.

“Chancellor Vexx.”

A gentle exhale slipped through his nostrils as the moment settled, and fingertips brushed lightly before him. “My assignment aboard this ship is not accidental. Chandrila’s situation has drawn the attention of more governments than perhaps its current representatives would prefer. Worlds in exile seldom remain in obscurity forever. Their reintegration into the framework is inevitable. At times through diplomatic avenues, and on other occasions, by means less agreeable to all parties.”

Around them, other conversations began to fill the chamber. Softness touched his voice, though the icy sheen in the young Sith's gaze remained.

“I prefer the former where it can be achieved.”

He allowed the thought to rest before addressing a larger point.

“You speak of self governance as a simple principle. In that, I suspect we do not disagree. Most societies prefer to believe their futures belong to them. To govern themselves. The difficulty in that, as history demonstrates, is that they rarely do so in the absence of powerful neighbors who believe they know what is best for them."

It was an interesting criticism. Once before, a great tyranny was born wearing the Republic’s colors. Their Senate even applauded when the Empire was born.

“Where our perspectives may diverge, is in the assumption that removing one kind of power would suddenly produce freedom. Our galaxy has never needed mysticism to steer its course. Military might, economic pressure.. those forces define sovereignty just as much as any lightsaber ever could.”

“So, whether one describes this moment as negotiation, or as answering a distress call, may depend on which perspective one takes.”

Lysander gestured toward an open chair at the table. “Please.”

 

[Vestra Tane]

Objective: Lockdown
Tags: Gram Arranda | Liana Organa

"…Who are you?"

"Vestra Tane. Historian, murderer, monster."

There was more, of course. But those were the important parts.

The Sith looked around at the little slice of hell she and her targets found themselves confined to. There was, at least, furniture. A chaise-longue, a lounge table...She rose to her feet, and gave her coat a nominal dusting. Not that even a proper one would've helped much. It was ragged, near death, covered in burns and gouges and missing chunks in a number of spots over vital organs. Still, there was a flash of something soft, something tender, in her expression when she cared for it.

"Gotta say, thought the Republic wasn't gonna take the bait on this one. This close to our turf? Shoulda brought more Jedi."

She counted...two, in the room, maybe? Two jedi, at least. There were others, whose affiliation she couldn't glean by simply brushing up against them in the Force.

"Anyway. Yeah. Hobbies. I draw sometimes. Landscapes, mostly."

Vestra sat herself down on the table, feet kicking dangerously close to the ray-shield-barrier keeping all three of them trapped. She twirled that same scrap of fabric between her fingers, unconsciously, and occasionally touched it to her face. The sulfur tinge to her eyes dimmed, ever so slightly, in those seconds.

"Could talk politics, I guess, if that's more your speed."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: CSL Trinity

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Emergency lights flickered along the Trinity's corridor in dull crimson intervals. Ace moved through the darkness without urgency. The ship carried the distant sounds of the operation now, blaster fire somewhere deeper in the hull, the sharp echo of sealing bulkheads, shouted commands muffled by the ventilation system.

He paused briefly at an intersection, reaching outward. The Force spread through the ship like cold water through fractured stone. Fear rippled everywhere, crew members scrambling through corridors, passengers barricading doors, guards attempting to regroup.

Amid the chaos, one presence stood out with unmistakable clarity. It was steady. disciplined, and controlled. Lorn, no doubt. Ace's expression didn't change, but the realization settled quickly.

If Lorn was here, then the Republic delegation had come better prepared than the Covenant expected. Which raised another possibility, Chandrila's government-in-exile had been courting diplomatic support. The Republic had every reason to send representation.

So he searched again. The second presence surfaced almost immediately: composed, precise, layered with the kind of quiet resolve that came from navigating politics where a single misstep could reshape entire systems.

Bylla was here. Of course.

He continued down the corridor and a few moments later he found the body. The Sith acolyte had collapsed against the bulkhead outside an office door, head missing. Two Republic guards lay nearby, equally still.

Ace slowed, studying the corpse briefly. The cut was clean, he could see that it was instant with no wasted movement in the strike. Then, he stepped past and approached the open doorway. Inside, Lorn sat in a chair as if nothing particularly unusual had even occurred. Sibylla stood nearby.

Ace paused at the threshold, gaze flicking once to the body in the hall, then settled on Lorn.

"Not bad."

Then his eyes shifted briefly to Sibylla. Her injury from the Chiss... it was healed, but it had left its mark.

"Covenant forces are securing the ship." He said evenly as he stepped inside. "Most of the crew have already been confined to the lower decks."

He paused briefly, then he looked back at Lorn.

"Didn't think I'd find you both here. Guess I should've warned you." His tone was blunt, but the cadence carried a hint of sympathy.

Sibylla Abrantes | Lorn Reingard​

 

[Mercy]

Verity Stuyveris

She finished her smoke right around the time that the door was wrenched inward and Verity's voice filtered through.

The cigarette was crushed under Mercy's heel and then she stepped to the edge. Mercy crouched down, looking over the edge and into Verity's eyes, while she was hanging off of the ladder.

"Oh, my, you made short work of that door. Well done." Mercy drawled lazily and then... reached out to pat the Senator on the head. With both of her hands occupied keeping herself attached to the ladder, the Sith Lord had free range at least. Then she looked past the woman towards the elevator shaft, it seemed that the elevators were stuck a few elevators up.

Which meant the passage way was free to get to engineering.

"I assume you are going to take the ladder." She finally said before getting up to her feet again. "I will see you downstairs then, enjoy the climb."

Then Mercy stepped off of the edge, over Verity, and the next moment the huge titan was gone.

Until eventually there was a large boom at the depth of the shaft. The metal around Verity shuddered as the after-shock reached her.

By the time that Verity had climbed down she'd spot a few things- the bottom of the shaft had a large indent where Mercy's mass landed. And the doors of the elevator were wrenched open, her hands clearly having rend the metal as if it was made out of paper. A bit beyond, into the corridor, was Mercy herself.

Her hands on her hips.

Looking around the scene.

Said scene? Flickering red lights from the emergency power and a bunch of corpses all around her. Which winked in and out of existence as the lights did.

 

[Gram Arranda]

It didn't take long for the distress call to be revealed for the trap it was. Gram wished he could say he was surprised, but after Moorja he couldn't say he was totally fooled by what was rapidly becoming known as the Sith Covenant's modus operandi.

But the lockdown, at least, was new. The Alderaanian security team, headed by Kael Rendar , immediately secured the perimeter, ready to defend their charges in the event that the system failed to intervene. So far the threat of being incapacitated had proven a successful deterrent. Their options were limited. Sit tight and wait for rescue, or try to talk to the enemy.

The Sith in the room with them appeared to be a woman, though the effects of Dark Side corruption had stripped her appearance of its humanity. Gram's eyes watched her as she moved perilously close to the ray shield, flaunting her proximity to danger. Her mutterings about her hobbies almost didn't register to him as coherent speech. It was all so bizarre, bordering on uncanny, listening to a monster attempt small talk. But, he supposed it couldn't hurt to try.

"Greetings," he said. "I am Gram Arranda, the Alderaanian ambassador." He gave Liana an opportunity to introduce herself, if she wanted.

"What choices brought you to this point, Ms. Tane?" he asked. "Why are you a Sith?"

Vestra Tane Liana Organa​

 

[Ayumi Pallopides]

Dominique Vexx

She listened to Lysander von Ascania as he was speaking to Dominique. The room was largely safe enough as sitting there she didn't respond to most of their words. Just taking in parts of it and what might be beneficial to them. Trust might be an extreme but given the situation for the moment they were all in. Decorum was always better. Her eyes mostly going to the chandrillians in the room with some interest when she hearrd some of the others. The talks were going to be fun with this many people in the room over such a thing. She saw Liana Organa was there and there was a woman from the last senate session Her but she didn't know a name just their vote more then anything. Balun Dashiell and Gram Arranda aaround someone Vestra Tane she didn't know but she only felt a little left out.

 

[Verity Stuyveris]

​

"So pleased we worried so much about the structural integrity of this vessel," Verity shouted won, unable -- or perhaps just unwilling -- to keep the spite out of her voice. Patted on the head like a greyhound -- the nerve of this woman. She listened to her voice echo down the shaft, ricocheting, distorting. Not the first time in recent history that Verity had heard her words twisted. Even then, as she began the descent down the ladder Verity couldn't decide which scenario she liked less.

It took her a few minutes to reach the bottom of the shaft where it had sounded like Mercy had punched a hole through the deckplates. She took a step off the ladder and flexed her hands. "Have you found the radiator access point yet?" Verity asked, turning from the ladder. Mercy wasn't there, though the deckplate had dented heavily where The Big Woman™ had touched down. Verity's knees ached just seeing it. Her eyes went up to the doors, rent apart. She slipped through the gap, activated her shoulder-mounted torch --

and stopped dead.

"What the hell happened here?" the Senator asked, her throat tightening with fear. "Did -- did you -- who are these people?" The pale light that lingered on a pair of corpses trembled as Verity shuddered violently.

Mercy​

 

[Mercy]

Verity Stuyveris

"Good question, darling..." Mercy said absently as she studied one of the corpses and then another. All in all, there were half a score of them, mangled together.

"These..." Her foot carelessly kicked at one of the corpses that Verity was shining on them. "Are Sith Troopers..." Then she bumped the tip of her shoe against the shoulder of another set of bodies.

"And these are High Republic security officers."

It was a very confusing scene if Mercy was being honest.

What were these Sith troopers doing here? What were the security officers doing here? And most importantly...

"And that body over there? No fucking idea who it belongs to. They have no patches, or other identification marks." Mercy initially assumed this was a HR plot to try and entrap the Sith. But the presence of her own people this deep in the ship complicated that idea. Then the existence of a third set of bodies that didn't belong to either side was even more confusing.

Mercy finally turned around and eyebrows went up at the pale nature of Verity's face.

"Oh, Senator..." Her voice sotto and gentle, stepping towards her and putting her hand, shaped like a shovel and forged for violence so lightly on her shoulder.

"Do you need a moment?"

So large was Mercy that standing in front of Verity meant suddenly the corpses were out of view entirely.

 

[Verity Stuyveris]

​

Verity's gaze swept over the corpses. There was no point in controlling her facial reactions here and now. She wasn't in the Senate, not being photographed. There was no one here to impress except Mercy, and Verity wasn't especially interested in impressing Mercy. She listened to the woman's explanation, following along as she identified each of the three factions represented.

Mysteries within mysteries, plots within plots.

The Senator crossed her arms over her midsection and tried to think. She didn't realize she'd been shaking until the Sith Lord put her hand on Verity's shoulder. She instinctively raised her hand and made to bat the touch away, but instead of easily slapping Mercy's arm to remove her hand off her shoulder, Verity might as well have tried to judo chop a reinforced concrete pillar. She yelped and jerked away, cradling her wrist with her other hand to her chest, certain in the knowledge that she would have a nasty bruise there.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, furious, giving her wrist a gentle rub. "Didn't your mother teach you manners, you unstable piece of human scaffolding? Or personal space? Force sake."

Verity paced away from the corpses, muttering curses under her breath, outraged at the familiarity of the enormous woman. "I don't need a moment. I need to get my people out of that conference room before your goons -- or these goons," she amended, gesturing agitatedly at the mystery corpses, "kill them. So let's get moving." She looked around, then crouched and picked up a carbine. Damned if she was going to wander around a ship littered with corpses without the means to defend herself.

Mercy​

 

[Mercy]

Verity Stuyveris

Mercy's laugh followed Verity as she walked away furiously.

"Oh, so prickly, you are acting as if I have personally wronged you." The Sith Lord said as she turned around to leisurely follow the Senator. Stepping over corpses, nudging some of them to the side, so she wouldn't stumble over them.

Verity wouldn't know, of course, because her back was to Mercy.

But those sulfuric eyes sharpened slightly on her retreating back. It would be easy... so easy to snap her in half, even just that slap against her arm a moment ago proved that. But the woman was... amusing, still, for now. Mercy had found early in life that people were... fragile creatures. They were vulnerable and died so easily.

And once dead you couldn't bring them back.

This is what Mercy reminded herself of- it would always be possible to kill Verity, but it would then not be possible to listen to her cute prattling thereafter.

"Is that it? Did I kill someone close to you, darling? A friend perhaps, in the Core? Otherwise I wouldn't know why you are being such a little bitchy shit when I have been nothing but diplomatic with you."

Even the word grossed Mercy out, giving her the ick.

 

[Verity Stuyveris]

​

"You know," Verity said as she stalked into an industrial-looking corridor, "You people are supposed to be a government of some kind. There are rules and laws. You want to be patted on the head for not violating the one fundamental precept of galactic war -- that you don't kill civilians and diplomats? As if you behaving with the bare minimum of decency demanded by civilization itself is worthy of some special dispensation? Get a grip."

"Do you really not understand? Come now, you must be smarter than that," Verity scoffed, peering at an unlit sign and tilting her light up to read it. Not the reactor she was looking for. "You really think I need to have been a friend to one of the countless people you and your thugs butchered in order to be offended by it? Do you have any idea how profoundly stupid that sounds? Some might say psychopathic, but I'm not really inclined to compliment you right now. Let's try this as a thought exercise."

She half turned now, her blue eyes -- usually glacial and frigid now alight with a kind of furious indignation that she typically kept under wraps.

"Did you know each and every person who died in the Tapani Sector to sate you and your band of brigands' bloodlust? Of course you didn't. So your actions lacked justification, right? No, of course not. The rules are different for Sith -- the rules are always different for you." She waved a hand impatiently. "You're a murderer. Diplomatic or not, you're a killer. And none of what I'm guessing you think is charm is going to wash away the truth of that. Only justice can redeem you."

Verity shook her head.

Perhaps she had gone too far. But Mercy started it. "I suspect a philosophical discussion will satisfy neither one of us," she muttered.

Mercy
​

 

[Mercy]

Verity Stuyveris

Somewhere between all those sentences that Verity uttered Mercy had stopped laughing.

Which should have been a warning in itself to her.

Instead she rounded on the Sith Lord, half turning, but Mercy was no longer standing away from a safe distance to follow. No, the Mountain was right there, in front of her. Looming over her with no mirth or amusement in sight any longer. The gesture that followed was as insulting as it was casual, as she grabbed Verity by the front of her shirt and moved her right against the wall without making much of an effort.

She didn't even bother to control the hand that Verity was holding the gun with. That... was a warning too, but who knew if the Senator was wise enough to heed it.

"Who... said that I don't kill civilians or diplomats?" Mercy asked quietly as she looked down at her, holding her in place with leisure. Her golden hand, terrible and alien, reached out and pressed right against Verity's sternum. The chest bone that connected her ribs together and ensured that none of her vitals would spill out and allow Verity to bleed out.

"Force, I can feel your heart beat... tell me... how fast do you think its beating? Be honest with me." The Sith Lord murmured softly. Eyes so bright now, fully channeled with the Dark Side, and corrupted beyond the pale.

"Do you know how easy it would be? To push a bit more? To push a bit harder?" Mercy leaned in there, until their noses almost brushed, but not quite. "All of you are so squishy... so soft, it takes effort on my part not to kill you all just by breathing or by playing a bit rough." A bloody smile there now, with sharpened teeth, eager to sink into flesh and tear vital things out. "Do you think a war with the High Republic becomes more likely with your death? Or with your continued existence?"

She licked her lips there, like a predator licking its chops, hungry for something.

"Either way... you are my tool, little Senator. Whether you are conscious of it or not."

There Mercy let go of Verity and looked down the corridor, already thinking of the next steps.