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Invasion Total Eclipse of the Heart || Objective 1: And I Need You Now Tonight

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O B J E C T I V E 1
W I E L U - SURFACE
The ‘Negotiations’


[This is a notification of the events in Objective 2 running parralel]

The High Republic security team that had been sent down with the delegation had until this point wondered why it had been so silent from the fleet. Weather anomalies had been the decision from command and the negotiations had been decided to go ahead. Not that it had gone as planned.

Some had looked up when a bright light had been born in the sky. The tell tale sign of a reactor explosion in orbit, other’s hadn’t noticed.

Yet among the guard few could ignore the sudden and painfully obvious comms bleep that came across all their channels at once.

Corporate guards looked quizzically as their comms lit up as well, clearly the message was being beamed across unsecure channels.

Delega [STATIC] m, This is Cap [STATIC] Gorne of the Hig [STATIC] c Navy The Banking Fleet of [STATIC] has set a block [STATIC] rporate fleet. We must evacuate n [STATIC] Naboo. All communication is locked. We are going [STATIC] way out. Please evacuate [STATIC] now. We shall [STATIC] rival. We will hold [STATIC] .


 


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The ceiling, painted with golden trim, spoke of Wielu craftsmanship. Some artisan had poured their soul into the intricate patterns above, unaware that someday, an idiot prince would lie sprawled beneath it, wondering if this was his final view. Aurelian didn't blink. He couldn't. The light, sharp and warm, felt like a final glare.

His ears rang, not from the slap, but from the snap-hiss of that cursed saber. The pain hadn't arrived yet. It never did right away. First came the haze, that moment between the breath and the scream, where your mind tried to pretend it was still in control. In that haze, a strange sadness swept over him. It wasn't fear, which would have been too easy to manage. He'd trained against that, built walls against it. No, this was something else, something heavier and uselessly indulgent: grief.

Then came the pain. White-hot and terrifying. Aurelian gasped, crying out a rasping bark of agony. His lips pulled back from clenched teeth as he twisted, instinctively trying to curl away, to deny it. His hands fumbled at his abdomen, bracing for a hole, for blood, for his own intestines to slip through his fingers.

But instead, broken armor and burnt flesh. The lightsaber had found its way through the armor, searing his flesh and cracking his ribs, but he wasn't skewered. He let out a ragged breath, a broken laugh following. He patted the layers beneath his tunic like an idiot searching for a wallet. Silk? Weave? Some unknown material. Sibylla had insisted, even demanded, he wear it, even for a "peaceful negotiation." He'd told her she was paranoid. He'd called it dramatic. She was right. He wasn't dead. Yet.

He turned his head, bones grinding with the motion, just in time to see Sibylla step forward. Steel in her voice, command in her spine, fire in her eyes, that was Sibylla. The impossible woman who didn't believe in half-measures, who held the weight of the Republic on her shoulders. Aurelian tried to speak, to tell her to go, to hide, to run. But his ribs screamed when he moved. The words caught in his throat, burning like acid. All that came out was a hoarse whisper, drowned by the crack of a weapon.

He saw it before it happened: the gun, the hand, the angle. And then, loss. The kind that rips the soul out before the body has time to realize it's dying. He knew what that bullet would do to her, what it would take from him, and what it meant. His vision blurred. Time stretched and his agony grew.

But in that slow-motion horror, something else moved. A rugged man, sliding into frame like some Force-damned miracle with bad hair and worse fashion. He became a shield, a blurred wall of force and bravery. Aurelian couldn't breathe.

And still, it wasn't over. As Aurelian was being helped up by his guard, a warning chirped in the HUD of his helmet. Aurelian turned to see what the guard had identified. Too late. A shadow shifted. A woman's finger curled around a second trigger. The Bounty Hunter. The shot screamed past him, not into him, but so close it scorched the outer shell of his ear, singeing the cartilage. The smell of burnt hair filled his nose. The guard behind him dropped, instantly dead. Helmet cracked, head gone.

Aurelian fell to his knees. Not from the wound, or even the pain, but from everything. The betrayal, the horror, the sadness, the fury. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This wasn't politics, or even diplomacy. This was war.

Aurelian's trembling fingers found the slim vibro-dagger where it had clattered to the floor. Once a piece of the negotiation, it was now a weapon born of wrath. His gaze locked on Arris, or maybe Mauve. He didn't know which, and at this moment, it didn't matter. Someone had tried to kill them, and someone was going to pay. The dagger lifted in his hand. His muscles cried in protest as he crouched, ready to lunge, a final act of princely spite. His whole body tensed, shaking, desperate, ready to throw the blade with every ounce of fury left in his fractured ribs.

But the moment he moved, agony flared. His knees buckled, the blade slipped from his fingers, and Aurelian Veruna, heir to Naboo, collapsed again, graceless and gasping. His vision blurred, blood on his lips, his breath tasting like copper. He was ready, Shiraya help him, ready to let it end. To let the bounty hunter finish him. To let the smoke of Mauve's pheromones be the last thing he choked on, his legacy a smeared on a marble floor.

Then came thunder. A loud boom echoed as the ceiling above exploded inward. Light and smoke poured through the new opening, shouts rising in chorus as armor crashed against marble. Aurelian flinched, not from death, but salvation.

CorpSec. He had never been so grateful to see Denon's mercenary angels. They were ruthless, efficient, faceless saviors, moving like storm fronts. They swept through the halls with methodical precision. Smoke grenades bloomed like poisonous flowers as masked commandos surged through the building.

One strode to him, barking something. Another hoisted him under the arm. The pain roared again, but he didn't scream. He wouldn't. Not now. Not after all this. Not in front of them.

He was lifted, hauled like wounded treasure, through scorched halls and over marble now streaked with ash and blood. He saw Councilors being gathered. Republic dignitaries ducking their heads as CorpSec shoved everyone toward extraction.

No, he thought, this isn't how it ends.

They dragged him out through a side exit and into the light. The sky above was scorched with the long trails of damaged craft. The Duchess, sat waiting, her engines groaning like a dying god, somehow still flying.

Councilors were being herded to safety. The Republic delegation being shoved into the ship. Dominique was already barking orders, speaking into command channels, demanding every feed, every body, every scrap of intel left behind be claimed for Denon's ledger. She didn't look at him, which was good. She had her job. He didn't care. Not anymore.

One of Aurelian's last remaining guards laid him down inside the Duchess, his head cradled against a jumpseat. A fresh medical pack lay open. Fingers moved to apply bacta, to inject something to dull the pain. Aurelian caught the syringe.

"No." His voice was hoarse, yet iron. The guard blinked, hesitating.

"No drugs. No bacta. I don't want to forget this pain. I need them to see it." He sat up, barely. Muscles spasmed, his vision swimming. "Get me back to Theed. To the Assembly," he rasped, his chest heaving. "Patch a message through the moment the comms come back online. Send it through the Naboo diplomatic channel, I don't care how. Wake the Chancellor if you must. I want a session convened. We declare war." His voice was cold steel now, hardened by fury, sharpened by betrayal. "On the Black Sun. On the Sith. On the so-called Bank of Nar Shaddaa and anyone else who dares cloak themselves in commerce while assassinating Republic Senators. Spin it. Spin it all in our favor."

His eyes flashed as he turned toward Sibylla across the ship. She was safe. He needed to see that. He reached out, his hand catching her wrist, pulling her toward him.

"That wasn't the plan, you fool." His voice trembled from emotion coiled like a dagger at his throat. His gaze pierced her, with raw, cutting hurt. "We didn't agree to that."

He let the silence hang like a blade. He wasn't talking about negotiations, or politics. He was talking about their plan.

"You don't get to put yourself on the line." His grip was tight, his voice deadly soft. "You're the future. You are the one who survives, Sibylla. You walk out of the smoke. You build Naboo from the ashes. You give speeches in marble halls while the rest of us bleed in the mud so your voice can rise." His chest shook. "You do not put yourself between blaster bolts and me. Not ever."

His eyes burned with a grief he didn't want to name. "I bleed. You rebuild."

He let her go, finally, slowly, his hand dropping back to his side. "And those two?" His tone now venomous. "Mauve. Quinn. I want them in solitary cells. Different sectors. Different planets. I don't care if they're Force-bonded lovers or psychotic co-workers, I want them forgotten. I want their names to vanish into silence, buried so deep in Republic space they'll forget what the stars look like."

His head fell back against the seat, teeth clenched against a fresh wave of pain. "But not until I stand before the Assembly." He shut his eyes. Blood trickled from his side again. "Let them see what was done."




 
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Cassian brandishing a blade and throwing it forward in spinning fashion intending to knock the weapon from her hand before she could fire.

A sword came out of nowhere, slammed into the barrel of her pistol a mere second after she pulled the trigger, too late to stop the shot, but it still twisted the barrel in her hand, nearly tore it from her fingers. Somehow, Mauve managed to keep a grasp of it.

Then things became utter chaos.

The board room became a battle zone. Blaster bolts and slugs zipped back and forth. Smoke started billowing out, Mauve didn't know where it had come from. Could barely hear her own thoughts through the din of the chaos. She'd never been in something like this before. There was so much noise. Screaming from the wounded, shouted orders, and the constant oppressive roar of gun fire.

CorpSec and FBONS SecTeams tore into each other. Mauve pointed and fired, remembering what CT-312 CT-312 taught her. She'd never fired a weapon in battle, but guns were... uncomplicated. Point. Shoot.

She pointed the barrel at a CorpSec member and squeezed off another shot. The gun bucked in her hand, the recoil a thing of violence in and of itself. The energy-shrouded slug round tore into his stomach, blowing through his armor and then out the back. He collapsed to the ground and started screaming, clutching at his gut. Terrible shot. She'd been aiming at his head.

A blaster bolt zipped through the air to ping off the silvery half-dome of incandescent energy surrounding her. Her personal shield. It wouldn't last more than another hit or two.

Mauve continued to fire and found herself screaming as well, squeezing the trigger again and again until she found herself clicking the weapon even though it had run dry.

Amid the smoke, people were fleeing toward all the exits. Not Mauve. She stood bloodied amid the carnage, tears streaking hotly down her face. A storm of emotions roiled within her, mirroring the overpowering pheromonal wash that drifted in and out of the billowing smoke. She wanted to collapse to her knees. She wanted to kill someone. She wanted to scream until she couldn't anymore.

Councilors were being herded to safety. The Republic delegation being shoved into the ship. Dominique was already barking orders, speaking into command channels, demanding every feed, every body, every scrap of intel left behind be claimed for Denon's ledger. She didn't look at him, which was good. She had her job. He didn't care. Not anymore.

One of the Wielu councillors sought to flee with the rest. Mauve slammed the barrel of her pistol into his face and he dropped like a fly. Which one was this? Yalel Dray, she thought.

"Arris," Mauve croaked through a throat run ragged and raw by screaming, "Get this one back into the board room."

Stepping through the bodies left in the wake of the Republic's withdrawal, Mauve paused seeing Quinn struggling to get up. She was alright, then? Mauve would check on her later. She didn't know what to feel except pain and anger. At the threshold of the conference room, she stopped before one body in particular. Her Nikto manservant lay spread out on the floor, blaster scorch marks pocking the front of his chest.

"J'dor," she whispered. He had been an excellent servant, and an even better spy. Now he was dead.

Because of them.

She bent down and retrieved a datapad from his fingers, her hand shaking as she flicked through screens to bring up the proposed FBONS contract with Wielu. Rising, she stormed into the deserted and blaster riddled conference room, datapad in hand, revolver in the other.

Yalel Dray, propped up in a chair, clutched a hand to his forehead where she'd struck him.

Mauve slammed down the datapad in front of him, wiping away a smear of J'dor's blood.

"Sign it."

She thumbed the hammer back on an empty revolver and pointed it at his head.

"Now."

Arris Windrun Arris Windrun | Quinn Varanin Quinn Varanin | Sibylla Abrantes Sibylla Abrantes | Cassian Abrantes Cassian Abrantes | Davik Haize Davik Haize | Dominique Vexx Dominique Vexx | Aurelian Veruna Aurelian Veruna | Rhys Gorne Rhys Gorne Arcadian Arcadian | Rojuhr Pouihl Rojuhr Pouihl
 
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The saber shut off the moment she saw the coward fall away from her. Quinn felt the adrenaline spike as she let the Force flow through her, trying to keep her moving, keep her from succumbing to the wounds that would have killed anyone else.

She was bleeding again, this time from somewhere new. Her outfit was ruined. The political consequences of this fiasco hadn't quite landed — yet.

Her outfit was ruined, and it didn't dawn on her just yet the difficult position she had placed her own government in. Quinn didn't care, though. She looked up and watched Mauve 'deflect' a thrown sword and the woman from before firing back to back. She wasn't abandoned, but she trusted Mauve.

Smoke and blaster fire pelted through the atmosphere, and Quinn stayed low, focusing on the dead body of the guard that had been shot. The so-called King of Naboo was a fading memory as she didn't want to give the sniveling noble a thought.

Nobility was always the same — grasping, scheming, making dire choices to preserve their image. In the end, they were just mewling, starved creatures. And if he lived through this, this one would be crowned a king.

A man who would take advantage of a girl dying, to make his point for a woman who had outsmarted him.

Pathetic.

"Shoulda bisected you, probably make a better King," she quipped under her breath as she patted her hand around.

The tube of bacta was rolling side by side as it reacted to the chaos around it. A smile crossed her face as she grabbed it and shoved it into her body. The stim released the necessary drugs and relief that helped her bear the pain along with crucitorn.

At least she didn't have to drain these cowards of their life essence; how disgusting it would be to use them as fuel — there were better, more worthy targets.

She stood. The moment a CorpSec blaster fired into her chest, instinct took over. The energy struck — and fed her. They were rodents searching for cover. As much as she hated it, they were going to bear the wrath of the Lord of Dread.

Exhaling softly, more blasters turned on her, pelting her with the energy she needed to fuel her breaking body. From the corner of her eye, she watched Mauve and the blonde woman handle something else.

Quinn didn't know, but she figured she was going to need to play gatekeeper.

The least she could do was buy them time. A hand waved, throwing the door closed behind the two women and their third. Another flick of her wrist, and several bits of broken wall and destroyed furniture were pulled towards the Echani. Her eyes darted towards the man who had thrown the sword, large, thick blocks of wall aimed to slam into him on all sides.

Maybe he would be quick enough to get out of that. ( Cassian Abrantes Cassian Abrantes )

Eyes burning hotter than the core of a sun, Quinn watched each and every member who threatened their lives. They wanted to run, so they should. She focused her energy forward, keeping her back towards the conference room.

In three points, the Force suddenly burst forward in a blueish telekinetic blast.

The smoke of the CorpSec and anyone else that still remained in the vicinity was tossed aside. Her lightsaber once more ignited as she struggled to still breathe — using every ounce of the Force she had absorbed to stay standing.

The stim helped, but it wasn't going to be enough. She bled in too many places to hope it would all seal in time.

All she needed was to buy time.

This was the last stand.
 
Things turned about as ugly as she expected, but the entire Republic delegation retreating from the negotiations was not what she expected. Though maybe that's on her not to assume their feet would run as fast as that prince's mouth.

Arris grabbed the helpless councillor by the nape of his neck and dragged him all the way to a chair.

Then, she wrapped cold metal fingers around Mauve's hand and gently pried the gun before stowing it away. "Boss, let me handle this one. You go check on your friend." She withdrew another stimpack and handed it to the Zeltron.

As soon as Mauve turned her attention towards Quinn, Arris slammed her fist into the table beside Yalel Dray.

She leaned into his ear. "This is going to be the easiest moment of your life," she began, "all you need to do..." The cyborg grabbed his hand and forced him to stick out his thumb.

"Is..."

He struggled against her grip and muttered a whole lot of nothing in protest. Arris pressed her foot against his ankle and applied a whole lot of hydraulic pressure with her cyber leg. His scream masked the ugly crack, and all resistance fled him when the pain radiated up.

"Sign." She forced his thumb down onto the bloodied datapad.

Some played golf, others got the job done. Arris typically found herself in the latter camp.

Quinn Varanin Quinn Varanin | Sibylla Abrantes Sibylla Abrantes | Cassian Abrantes Cassian Abrantes | Davik Haize Davik Haize | Dominique Vexx Dominique Vexx | Mauve du Vain Mauve du Vain | Arcadian Arcadian | Aurelian Veruna Aurelian Veruna | Rhys Gorne Rhys Gorne | Rojuhr Pouihl Rojuhr Pouihl
 
Stunning Little Thing


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Wielu

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There was no dancing around it - this meeting had spiraled spectacularly, irreversibly, into a veritable clusterfuck.

Councilor Durnas was dead, the Royals and Bankers were at each other's throats trading blows. If it went on any longer, Viktor would resort to killing them all himself and drinking their bodies dry. Luckily for them, he was here at the Corporate Sector's behest and was technically under the jurisdiction of Senator Vexx. Her status as an ExO of the Board marked her untouchable according to the creed that the Sylvain's had followed for centuries, and by extension, so were the delegates here. Pity. But perhaps not as terrible an obstacle as it appeared.

Viktor was nothing in not an opportunist, and the ferocity with which both the Republic and First Bank fought to sway the councilors and establish dominance was remarkable. It was possible - likely, even - that this dramatic turn of events which left one member dead and two others maimed could actually be more profitable than simply choosing one side or the other and signing the holodocs to seal it in contract. His wheels were turning, but despite the greed in his heart and the hunger in his belly, Viktor knew that the best option for now... was to end this summit altogether.

Wielu's decision would come, surely, but not today.

"This session," Vik said with authoritative bass to one of the councilors, "will not bear fruit for either side."

"Wielu will come to a decision. But that decision will not be made here today. You require time to convene internally and discuss what was presented, following a full investigation conducted by CorpSec." He nodded more to himself than anyone else. His crimson eyes seemed to glow faintly as he spoke, as if his words were laced with an ancient power.

The Council would further stipulate that until the investigation was complete, both the Republic and First Bank would remove themselves from Wielu and avoid any actions that could be understood as an attempt to manipulate the due process of law.

Hopefully the ceasefire would be enough to get both delegations home without a full-scale war overhead...

~ Thread Exit ~

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Tags: All y'all
 


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Smoke. Chaos. Agents falling from the sky, their grenades and covering fire heralds of war. Annasari let Decarii's shoulder free, able to limp along well enough - after stripping the heels from her feet - but still clutched the woman's hand like a lifeline, even on the ship. They were no soldiers. Their weapons of choice were words. Though her spirit would survive - this was not her first brush with death in what was supposed to be simple business proceedings, after all - Decarii's voice had been one of reason, keeping her grounded. Four finger's squeezed her trusty advisor's tight. They'd need a stiff drink when they made it back to Naboo. And maybe some of Vexx's CorpSec brought on staff.

A medic had come to fuss about her injuries again. She still refused bacta. The future king's wounds would have a bigger draw, but there was a strength in numbers. Waving them off, she watched interestedly in the exchange between the other victim and his sister, in the seats diagonal them. Narrowed eyes watched passionate words form on lips, sound washed away by the turmoil amongst the ship.

"It will be war." Annasari informed Tithe quietly.

Of course it would. There was a certain power in uniting a nation against a common enemy - and a personal satisfaction when that enemy had done you so dirty. Any smaller response would mark the fledgling Republic weak.

Good. They could stand to profit.

"We'll need to inform the Federation so we can make necessary preparations. I do believe our companions today will need assistance in protecting their interests in Republic borders, as well."

Raven locks casted a curtain across the durasteel ship wall as she allowed herself to lean her head back and shut her eyes.

It would be war, and she intended to bill both sides for the cost.

-- exit --​
 
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Decarii carried the injured Annasari onto Dutchess as the High Republic delegation prepared to depart Wielu. This was far from the perfectly orchestrated plan the two had schemed. Then again, who could have accounted for Black Sun having a Sith assassin on their payroll? She helped the Senator into a seat and summoned a med droid to examine her.

But the lawyer wasn’t ready to give up, not now. Her dogged determination a hallmark of her legal career. Decarii hurried back down the ramp of the shuttle and looked around, spying a senior Corporate Council executive. While they may not have been senior enough to sign the contract with the High Republic in their own right, their supervisors would carry sufficient authority.

“Hey, you - yeah you!” Decarii yelled over the sound of repulsorlifts firing up. “Look, you saw what happened here today right? The blasting, the blood, the Sith assassins, for kriff's sake. The Corporate Council - I don’t think they want that type of noise. Think of the optics, quiet beachside resorts overrun with Black Sun Vigos. Doesn't exactly scream regulatory compliance, does it?”

Decarii handed the functionary the datapad containing the contract that would bind Wielu to the High Republic. Contracts all across the galaxy used similar timestamp technology. If a Corporate Council representative signed and transmitted the document before a similar Black Sun document was signed, the deed would be considered complete. The fate of this world may lie in a single data packet.

“Those blue-bloods in there, they ain’t prefect,” she explained, pointing at the shuttles where Prince Veruna and his retinue were being loaded. “Normal people like you and me, they don’t give us the time of day. But I’ll tell you what, you’ll be lightyears ahead under them compared to Black Sun. Trust me on that.”

The Aargauun bid the junior executive farewell and hurried back onto the evacuation shuttle.

She took her seat next to Annasari, who was already talking next steps. If the skirmish between the High Republic and Black Sun escalated to a full-blown war - easy to see given the events of today - the Trade Federation stood to make countless credits.

“Right, yeah, we’ll need to sure up support in the Assembly,” she replied. “Get some contract, lock down a voting bloc. Hopefully some karking good can come out of today.” The two women had put their lives on the line for the High Republic in front of the future king and the most influential senators. That had to count for something.

Decarii reached into her bag, which had surprisingly survived the melee, and removed an ornate container. She produced a small capsule and tucked it into her gum, before placing a capsule in Annasari’s palm and closing the Senator’s fingers around it.

“Ronto tranq”, she explained as she bundled her blood-soaked coat into a pillow and stretched out across a row of seats. “Trust me ma'am.”

 
The ethereal barrier across his arms flared, its spectral flames lunged to consume the leaden round, but its feeble tendrils managed only to barely swipe it away from his heart. Haize's determined gaze shattered into a shocked goggle. Lips twitched and throat convulsed before spewing a bile of blood. His whole body burned, then shivered, then burned again against the bullet's rupture in his chest. Knees began to loosen; soles to lift off the ground from the kinetic force; and an unyielding resignation for a much yearned fall to the floor.

He hit the ground with a loud thud. Ears rang ceaselessly, drowning the cacophony of battle around him. A fog fell upon his sight, diluting the color of blaster fire exchanged into dull red-greyish hues. This was the closest he'd ever felt to being in the thickest mire of a warzone. At least alone.

The Incident on the Gordian Reach, the Heinsnake Cult uprising, the Siege of Pabol Sleheyron; all few and far between, as was natural for a Warden of the Sky, but then he'd been by his master's side, certain no danger would truly befall him standing in the stalwart presence of the old warrior.

And yet, Waylon of Arkanis had perished, too.

So this was it…

… what a shit way to go.


His eyes nearly shut when a calloused hand picked him by the collar and yanked him up to his feet, having no business doing so.

"Gramps..?!" dry lips strained a murmur.

"Told you to stay put, kid." the sergeant from earlier put Haize's arm over his shoulder and dragged him under a wall of covering blaster fire.​

***

With a hand pressed against the gunshot wound, blood leaking through his fingers, Haize limped into the confines of his ship to a sight so surreal and delirious, he became near certain the sarge had given him a deathsticks-laced bacta patch.

Royals, men and women who wielded such power at the tip of their tongue; a single word uttered could change the fate of numerous stars.

A single word.

Their soldiers, medics, aides, and retinue hovered above them or paced about to treat the wounded. All of them. Every single one of them inside the beat-up, wrecked, dead boat of his, littered with mynock corpses whose stench had started to fill the air. No one seemed to mind -- guess it made sense when there was a King-to-be on the edge of his life.

Davik opened a broken compartment, pulled a cabin spray and tossed it to an aide, then found comfort in the cockpit where Skip buzzed in jubilant greetings.

"You know…" Haize slumped into the pilot seat, muscle memory kicking in as his hands ran a quick pre-flight check. "Old man Waylon always used to say, 'Don't overcomplicate it.' Meant it both ways: don't get in over your head, and remember it's the small feats that change the galaxy, not the grand gestures. It's why he left the Jedi in the first place, right? Became a Warden of the Sky and all that."

He pulled a lever and the repulsors groaned to life, lifting the Duchess shakily into the air for what would be her last flight; a ship once confiscated from a Mandalorian pirate by Waylon, and turned from bane to hope for spacelanes and spacers in need.

"And yet…" Haize's said, "...he always seemed to get pulled into the grand schemes anyway. Guess he passed that on to me." he continued his near-delirious monologue to Skip, but his eyes burned holes in the sky through the viewport. "I've never been a great student -- good, even. But what pulled you in, Waylon… I'm going to push myself into this time. I'm gonna make these bastards pay for wrecking the Duchess."

A small, bitter tear rolled down his cheek. ​

"I swear it!"​

And the memento of his master shot for the stars for one final voyage.​

The End
Aurelian Veruna Aurelian Veruna Cassian Abrantes Cassian Abrantes Mauve du Vain Mauve du Vain Viktor Sylvain Viktor Sylvain Arcadian Arcadian Dominique Vexx Dominique Vexx Decarii Tithe Decarii Tithe Annasari Annasari Sibylla Abrantes Sibylla Abrantes
 


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O B J E C T I V E - 1
W I E L U

Aurelian Veruna Aurelian Veruna Cassian Abrantes Cassian Abrantes Dominique Vexx Dominique Vexx Viktor Sylvain Viktor Sylvain Decarii Tithe Decarii Tithe Annasari Annasari Davik Haize Davik Haize


Sibylla's heart pounded so hard it felt ready to tear free. Jasmine hit her senses like a punch in that heady, suffocating cloud tangled with a grief so deep it made her eyes sting and her stomach lurch. Even with all her training to try and keep her composure, SIbylla could not stop the buckling of her knees or the way her breathing shuddered in shallow, rapid bursts. The grief was confounding, suffocating.

But the mix of genetically enhanced pheromones and empathically charged despair only sharpened her need to ensure Aurelian was safe. That urgency spiked as she heard Mauve du Vain Mauve du Vain spat her order.

"Arris. Kill them all."

Shiraya, no...

She moved without thinking, planting herself between him and Mauve as if her body alone could shield him. She had worn Shell spider silk precisely because she knew this could happen again. She carried the scars of surviving assassination attempts before.

But instead of aiming at Aurelian as she expected, Mauve leveled the weapon at her and pulled the trigger, death flaring in her violet eyes.

CRACK.

Time stopped. Her family's faces. Her brother's voice. Lysander's eyes. All flashing at once.

No...

There was no escaping the shot. At least, that was what she thought before a rugged, tattered figure slid into place in front of her. A shimmering translucent barrier bloomed in the air, and while it slowed down the slug, it was too late to stop it.

The thermal energy discharges slug shot straight through Davik Haize Davik Haize 's chest before it slammed right into Sibylla. The impact hit her like a hammer, sending a searing pain tearing through her collarbone as the slug's remaining thermal force hit the shell spider silk. The armor held, but barely. She was left gasping, her shoulder screaming, the air knocked clean from her lungs -- but alive.

But then the booming sound of an explosion rocked down, blowing one of Sibylla's eardrums as smoke flooded the chamber. chaos ensued, and everything seemed to be seen through a veil of surreal shadows and muted cries of injuries, shouted commands, and orders to evacuate. Masked commandos cut through the chaos, dragging councilors to safety, securing the exits.

Cassian. Where was Cassian? Wild eyes would search, barely registering her brother still in the mess. Arms grabbed her, dragging her along. She was moving again, then dragged out the side exit, smoke clearing as fresh salt-sprayed air hit her face. She vaguely heard through one ear Dominique barking orders as CorpSec fire covered their retreat. Three of Wielu's councilors were with them, one unfortunately, left behind when he had scattered back into the conference room.

The Duchess's engines screamed, engine wash tearing away the delicate filigree of her hairnet, sending her thick mahogany hair whipping into the wind. Every jolt through the atmosphere sent pain knifing through her collarbone. Each breath tasted of smoke, seared flesh, and mynock blood. She had been moving on instinct since before the shot, since the cry to arrest Quinn shattered order into chaos.

Blessed distance from the Zeltron allowed the overwhelming haze of grief to lift, only to be replaced by sharp clarity. Alarm. Anxiety. Concern. Sibylla pushed against the guard, trying to make her sit. She needed to see Aurelian and Cassian. To know they were safe. She heard Aurelian's hoarse, pained voice first, and her stomach dropped, hazel eyes moving to see him as he pushed the Veruna Guard holding a medkit to use on him.

"Aurel --" Her voice broke off as a firm hand caught her wrist and pulled her forward. Her head snapped up, and her hazel eyes locked on Aurelian's.

He was alive. But the way his voice cut through the ringing in her head and the low, trembling but deadly timbre of his voice was a match for the burn in his eyes, uttering that her actions were not part of their plan.

"You do not put yourself between blaster bolts and me. Not ever."

The words should have made her bristle. Instead, the way he looked at her kept her silent, as if she'd ripped the air from his lungs and he was still fighting to breathe. This wasn't the peacocked theatrics he wore for the Assembly. No, this was raw, and it was for her. Not Naboo. Not the optics. Her.

She searched his face, reading the tight set of his jaw, the pain behind the steel, the way his amber gaze locked to hers as if he could will her to understand. This was not just chastisement. It was a plea.

"I bleed. You rebuild."

When he finally let go, the heat of his hand lingered on her skin even as his voice turned cold again, the venom toward Mauve du Vain Mauve du Vain and Quinn Varanin Quinn Varanin spilling next in cold, calculated precision, ready to use his very body as the poster child for the iron fist of legislation she was sure to come hammering next. Sibylla almost welcomed the return of his politics, because the truth of what came before it had left her off balance in a way she wasn't ready to name.

"Sibylla!" Cassian Abrantes Cassian Abrantes 's voice shot through the dead mynock-littered ship, snapping Sibylla's attention over towards its direction, seeing her brother's purposeful stride coming straight towards her as the Veruna guard attempted to reach Tona, Aurelian's assistant, while another Corsec officer came up to try to provide first aid to Aurelian and Sibylla as well.

"Dominique, where is she?" Sibylla cried out, whatever she was going to tell Aurelian, cast to the wind as the Duchess gave a shudder and the repulsors roared to life.

And though her ribs ached, her collarbone screamed, and the scent of jasmine still haunted her senses, she was still grateful for at least one thing: that they were still alive.

x | x | x | x | x | x
 
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Dominique never liked to use force to get what she wanted. She'd used every trick in her arsenal as a mere Senator with the Alliance in order to keep the Corporate Authorities of Denon from using CorpSec like a hammer. Blasters and grenades were good at instilling fear. They were good at cowing the powerless. They were not good at convincing people to establish long-term, profitable relationships. It required so little actual skill on her part to deploy them. And yet there came a time when brute force was the only option left; and when that came she did not shy from it.

"Secure this room," the Director hissed to the guard as she fixed him with her golden eyes. "Don't worry, if they force their way inside they'll only live to regret it."

Two CorpSec charged down the hallway to where Dominique stood. It was time to go. Would Nar Shaddaa be foolish enough to lay a hand on her? They seemed flippant about her conjuring Denon's Defense Fleet, but that could have been arrogant posturing. Kidnapping or harming an Executive Director... that was the mistake Darkwire had made. Though their mistake led to the Board's own mistake. It would be pleasant if history didn't repeat this time.

She didn't ask them if they'd retrieved Aurelia, Sibylla, or the recently arrived Cassian. With the smoke and chaos Dominique wouldn't even know if others arrived on the scene. CorpSec has their job to do and micromanaging them wasn't going to solve matters. If anything, she wanted to keep her ears open for anything those of Nar Shaddaa might spout.

Ferried away by the two that flanked her, Dominique did not look any more pleased than she had a moment ago. The entire situation was an affront to everything they'd come to Wielu to represent or achieve. Just because she'd had a contingency plan hadn't meant it had been a desired outcome. Certainly not with Sibylla's life on the line.

"You have three of the Councilors?" she asked to confirm the count. One was missing then. Unlikely anyone had deliberately shot them. Fled back to 'safety' to their chamber? Perhaps. More likely in the clutches of the First Bank.

Dominique shook her head. "If those bastards think for one Twi'Lek Lap Dance they're going to force a signature," she growled aloud as if the galaxy had ears. Well they damn well would by the time she was done, and someone thought to get a signature. Why even Annasari's attempt would have earned a similar rebuke had it been successful; but hers had not. Being forced to sign a deal under duress could be argued in court that no such deal ever existed at all and any purported contract be considered null and void. And they could be certain that Dominique was cross enough to have a host of lawyers argue it.

They'd hurried down the corridor after the rest. Shields helped deter any remaining stray bolts. It wouldn't be long until they emerged on the platform where the Duchess sat in wait.

Decarii seemed inclined to surface from the vessel then to accost some hapless executive. Dominique didn't bother to intercept that affair. If it happened then having both negated would be just as satisfactory an outcome. What mattered was having a proper negotiation and not whatever the First Bank thought 'this' was.

The Director stepped in the path of a high ranking officer that looked ready to plunge back into the building the way they'd come. "I am Dominique Vexx, Director of the Executive Board of Denon, Senator of the High Republic for Denon. I want copies of all evidence collected regarding the travesties that occurred inside. In exchange, the High Republic can provide testimony and evidence of its own. Rest assured, if the First Bank of Nar Shadda has tampered with that evidence I will know. The Republic will know, and my response will be swift and without mercy -- which is the fate that blockading fleet above will soon share."

Having a bureaucrat in his face, the man exhaled patiently. "Ma'am, I will see what--"

"Captain,"
Dominique stepped into his personal space as she tore the glareshades from her nose so he could see razor's edge of her eyes clearly, "that was not a request. I will be in touch after I or the Republic has run that fleet out of your system and returned some sense of normalcy back to Wielu." That was their deadline.

The Denonite didn't even bother with so much as a by your leave as she pivoted toward the ship. It was long past time to go. They needed to be on their way.

It was only a moment or two later with the ship shuddering in its efforts to life off that Dominique heard Sibylla's voice. A silent expulsion of breath followed knowing the woman was alive. "I'm here, Sibylla." Dominique stepped into view and gave both her and Aurelian an appraising visual inspection. "I'm gratified to see you're both alive." Then things hadn't been too late. There had been no guarantees when she ordered the breach. Injuries had already been sustained, including fatal ones without immediate treatment. "We'll get you both to a medical bay as soon as possible."

Things had gone horribly wrong, but at least her valuable partners hadn't been lost. Perhaps even friends. No doubt this sort of protection would cause Dominique political trouble -- even just with the Board at some point -- but it wouldn't be difficult to argue the expenditures. Though she would have preferred fewer casualties among their security teams. They might not be those that moved heaven and earth, but they were capable men and women and their loss was felt.

 

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