Public [THP] War Bonds

[The Broker]

It truly was the ultimate tourist destination. People still visited, taking comfort in the warm atmosphere. Ignoring the dread they felt in their hearts with the new ruling body of the very core of the Galaxy. Drink, gamble, be merry and forget your troubles. If they made that a slogan, they'd probably get quite the return. Or trouble. At one of the lavish tables they sat. They all had their own reasons of being there, but at the core was the same, simple reason.

Money.

He'd reached out to each, sending a simple message they'd taken to heart. As a Shadow he knew all kinds of trinkets and odds and ends to sell and buy, from both the living and the dead. With the change in leadership, there were bound to be cracks to exploit. Pathways to make use of credits that normally wouldn't be. The opportunity of a lifetime for those willing to take it. The whisplike face seemed to hold a calm smile as he folded his hands before him.

"Thank you all for coming. Shall we get right to business, or should we enjoy the surely lavish feast we'll be presented first?"

 

[Zarion Threx]

Tags: The Broker [Open]

---

The cyborg's metallic body was without pulse or greater motion, clad in painted white panels or semi-exposed cybernetic tendons, and wrapped in a blue cloak "I, for one, will be skipping any feasts." Zarion responded in a synthesized voice while putting up one hand slightly in a polite refusal before laying the lifeless limb back down with a soft clink. Zarion had little exposure to the Force or really any Force-sensitive beings despite his time with the Galactic Alliance. Though something was otherworldly about this 'Broker' individual.

"The commerce of the Deep Core is disrupted though planetary economic networks remain largely intact even if shaken. It may be some time before the larger intersystem trade routes are resumed and stabilized. Therefore we must act quickly as the chaos may be to our advantage despite inflamed pricing." Zarion put a datapad down on the table that the group sat at and motioned to it "In order to avoid... additional scrutiny I suggest that we limit ourselves to the short-term stockpiling of refurbished products. The movement of high quality equipment may draw regulatory attention." he said with an intonation of his voice indicating the veiled meaning of his words. Zarion did not wish for the new occupiers of the Core, who with their internal security services, would surely be on the watch for any signs of materiel amassment especially within the scope of new or high quality goods.

 

[Thexann Pehnataur]

THEXANN PEHNATAUR
Chief Operating Officer, Guardian Authority Ltd.
Private Log Entry – Restricted Access Only
Timestamp: [REDACTED] | Location: Obelisk Station – Executive Wing


---

So this is what passes for normal around here?

One week. I’ve been in this position for one week.

The suite overlooking Obelisk’s sapphire-gleamed artificial horizon was built for relaxation, but I haven’t unclenched my jaw since that “invitation” arrived. It wasn’t formal. No department reference. No accounting code. Just a time, a location, and a signature that—when traced—bounced through four dead drops and a Shadow Network signature I know shouldn’t be active anymore.

And yet…

There I was. Walking past gambling elites and half-drunk tourists laughing under colored lights, oblivious to the dread spreading through the stars like a sickness. Drink, gamble, forget your troubles. The phrase stuck with me. I half-expected to see it printed on a banner. I’d have admired the brazenness, if I weren’t trying to keep this company intact.

People still came here. Not because they trusted us, but because denial is a stronger drug than any sold in the upper rings of Nar Shaddaa. They didn’t want to think about what ruled the Core now. They wanted lights, drinks, synthetic sunsets. But this... this meeting wasn’t for them.

It was for people like him.

A man—if you can call him that—wearing the trappings of civility like a skin-suit. That whisplike face, that tone like a man offering tea over a grave. The moment I saw him, I felt it: power, yes, but purpose too. The kind that doesn’t blink. The kind that survives wars by changing the tablecloth, not the rules.

"Shall we get right to business," he said, "or enjoy the surely lavish feast?"

I didn’t answer right away. I watched the others—fence-lords, deep market brokers, whisper-traders from systems I’d never even been briefed on. They all took the message seriously. Some too seriously.

I glanced at the servers. All of them Guardian Authority employees—mine, now. Good. If things went sideways, at least the exit strategy would be clean.

What worried me wasn’t the proposal. It was the timing. Just as the Core falls into the hands of something new. Just as the Senate collapses. Just as Valery Noble whispers in corridors about… change. I don’t believe in coincidence. Not in my line of work. Not after surviving Coruscant.

I leaned back in my seat, fingers steepled, measuring his smile like a sabacc hand that looked too perfect.

"Let’s eat," I finally said. "No one makes smart choices on an empty stomach. And I want to know which kind of business we're discussing. The kind that leaves us rich, or the kind that gets someone airlocked for looking at the wrong crate."

Because if it’s the latter?

I may be wearing a corporate badge these days. But I haven’t forgotten what it means to fight in the shadows.

And I didn’t come to Obelisk to be outplayed.


---

End Log
Flagged for review: High-risk contact potential. Recommend background sweep on all attendees. Possible precursor to off-ledger operations.

The Broker Zarion Threx

 

[Vince]

War Bonds
Meeting with The Broker Zarion Threx and Thexann Pehnataur ​

He had been a disappointment. Before, the people had looked to him with hope and the nobility with a sense of tempered optimism - as long as he had time to grow into the role. But ever since the succession after the battle of Onderon, the Prince - or King, rather - had failed to live up to expectations. The Iziz Daily, the Onderonian Gazette and the other tabloids kept writing about how he was still wearing black, how he had fallen into passivity. Although he placed his votes in the Senate and fulfilled his duties as a monarch, Vince Ivro Kalmorak was said to have lost his spark. The glimmer in his eyes, the passion, the adventurous streak were all in the past now.

Supposedly.

Whether it was a period of grief coming to an end or the recent events at the Core stirring something within him to life, something had changed. The King had cleared his schedule and embarked to an - to the public - unknown destination.

______________​

With an aide left waiting outside, the royal entered the chambers with friendly eyes giving the others in attendance a look over. Where the Prince might have offered an easy smile and a cheerful 'hi', the King offered a solemn nod and subdued "Greetings". Clearly, he still had some ways to go before finding his way back to his old self.

Taking a seat, he placed his hands wide on the table and his mouth started to form the beginnings of a 'business' - but the corporate, Thexann Pehnataur , spoke first. Vince looked over to him with a gentle gaze and a bit of a pause. "Very well. We shall have something simple." he said, referring to himself.

 

[Valery Noble]

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery stepped through the entrance and looked around. Her presence barely registered to most in the room at first, but for those sensitive to it, the shift was undeniable. Calm, steady, and focused. The kind of presence that once stood at the center of the Jedi Temple or the most heated battlefields.

She said nothing out loud at first.

Instead, her gaze swept the room. Then her eyes settled on the man at the center of it all,masked, composed, and playing host like he'd been born to it.

<Damn,> her voice rang through his mind with a sly touch of amusement, unmistakably hers. <You single, baby?> The smirk that touched her lips a second later was anything but subtle, and very much Valery.

She then moved again, offering a nod to those she recognized. Her attention briefly flicked to Thexann, a familiar face from her time in the Galactic Alliance. She hadn't worked with the man directly, but she remembered him. Then her eyes found Vince and her smile softened.

They had fought together before, stood side by side when the odds were stacked high and the Mandalorians had began their assault on Alliance border worlds. She hadn't seen him in some time, but she'd never forget those fights.

"Well, hello there," she said, her voice warm but level. "It's good to see you again." She stepped into the gathering proper then, folding her arms as she looked around.

Eager to see how this would play out.

The Broker Vince Zarion Threx Thexann Pehnataur ​

 

[The Broker]

If it involves you, I can be single.

The quip came back short and sweet, and the figure didn't even so much as seem to react. Instead, the Broker was much more focused on the trio already sitting. They hand hands in different pies, the kind that would prove more useful than they might realize. Food was brought, seemingly on cue of something the Shadow had done.

"Both, to answer your question Chief Operator. There has to be profit for this all to work, after all. Too many pockets to keep filled, as I'm sure you understand." Bribery, first and foremost. There was nothing like money to turn the rigidity of Imperialism into an ally. People always wanted more, and the right mark would help the most.

"Goods need to be transported throughout the Core Worlds. Some will inevitably be lost, to the Imperials and others without a doubt, but the people need these goods regardless. The network will have to be disconnected, no one knows anyone sort of thing just in case." Dead drops, droid delivery drivers regularly memory wiped, the like.

"But you all know the real reason behind it. It's why you came here, no?"

Vince | Valery Noble | Zarion Threx | Thexann Pehnataur

 

[Zarion Threx]

Tags: The Broker Vince Valery Noble Thexann Pehnataur

---

Zarion looked to the others who had joined them at the table, his glance was little more than the twitch of his head towards their directions and a second or so of blinkless staring before looking back to the the Broker. Zarion did not know Valery Noble personally but he was keenly aware of arguably the most famous individual of the Galactic Alliance "Of course." he responded coldly "We are here in order to establish logistical support for a common commercial venture." Zarion hinted.

"Your point is well taken. Secrecy of operational parameters must be at a premium." his left hand lifted and twisted conversationally "As I have said I will lay the ground work for the procurement of used equipment. Hydration reclamation units, portable generators, components. It is my understanding that much of the salvage of this galaxy's endless battles lay scattered across the region in the yards of junkmongers." Zarion looked towards the others then and away from the The Broker while putting his hand down once more "I will begin the sourcing of labor droids and the contents of salvage yards."

The cyborg's attention then went to the former Grandmaster "In time I will require modest bi-monthly compensation. What material cannot be utilized will be once again sold - but I will still be running at a deficit. Routine compensation will help to forestall my inability to contribute. It is my intention to support your cause for as long as I am able."

 

[Thexann Pehnataur]

PRIVATE LOG – THEXANN PEHNATAUR
COO, Guardian Authority Ltd. | Timestamp [REDACTED]
Location: Obelisk Station – Private Conference Tier, Level D

---

I've seen Jedi walk into warzones.

I've seen them stand at the head of collapsing frontlines, heard their voices over comms, measured, impossibly calm—while everything else was turning to fire and static.

But this...

Valery Noble didn't enter the room. She reset it.

No fanfare. No guards. No banners. She just stepped in, like she belonged at the center of it all. Because in a sense, she always has. Even when the Order fractured, even when the stars started falling, people looked to her.

And Maker help me, she looked right at me. Just for a second.
Recognition flickered. She remembered. I wasn't sure if that was comforting or damning.

It wasn't pity. Jedi don't pity. But there was a quiet weight in her eyes—like she'd read the obituary the galaxy had written for me after Coruscant and didn't agree with it. Not yet. That should've reassured me. It didn't.

Then him. The Broker.

He was composed, courteous, impossible to read. But I know power when I see it, and that man is either in control of this operation—or he wants us to think he is. Possibly both. He didn't flinch at Noble's arrival. He didn't hesitate to shift the meeting into something deeper.

Secrecy. Transport. Bribery. Distribution chains that didn't officially exist.
And suddenly I was being addressed again—"both," he'd said. "Profit and principle."

Right. Because that always works out clean.

Zarion Threx—the cyborg—spoke with the surgical clarity of a man who only deals in infrastructure. He's useful. Cold. Predictable. I like predictable. He's also pragmatic enough to admit what he'll need from us long-term. It's a negotiation. I can work with that.

But then... Vince Kalmorak.

The Prince. No—King now.

I remember the footage from Onderon. The fiery promise in his voice when he denounced the traitors. The passion of a man who believed in something bigger than bloodlines.

And now?
He looked like a man still climbing out of rubble no one else could see.

There was weight in his presence too—but not like Valery's. His was quieter. Older. A kind of grief forged into routine. Still, when he spoke, it was decisive. "Something simple," he said. His eyes found mine when he said it, like it wasn't about the food at all.

Maybe it wasn't.

I sat straighter. I couldn't afford not to.

This wasn't just a rogue Jedi, a clever broker, and a corporate contact list getting cozy. This was something else. Something building. The cracks in the galaxy were widening, and these people weren't trying to seal them. They were trying to move through them.

Adapt.

And if I've learned anything from Coruscant, it's this:
Adaptation is survival.

So I did what I always do.

I listened. I logged. I planned.

If this is the start of something new—whatever Valery's calling it—I need to be ready. Guardian Authority Ltd. may be a name on the stock exchange now, but beneath that? It's a ghost in the machine. I have resources. I have leverage.

And maybe, just maybe... I have a part to play in all this after all.

"I'm here to take a meeting, nothing more. Playing "host", if you will. Have you seen this place? It is amazing. After we eat, let's take a tour."

I spent enough time in EE intelligence to be able to speak in code. I don't see this place as being bugged, but we didn't think the Core would fall.

---

End Log
Action Items:

• Flag Valery Noble for deep-profile reassessment. Not for containment—awareness.
• Monitor droid delivery contracts for discreet drop capability.
• Begin silent acquisition of under-market salvage & repurposable tech. Label humanitarian.
• Prepare for more contact.

The real meeting hasn't even started yet.

 

[Vince]

War Bonds
Meeting with The Broker Zarion Threx Thexann Pehnataur and Valery Noble ​

The Monarch's brows rose upon seeing the Jedi. This was someone whom he knew. The two of them had not been in contact for quite some time. A perceptive observer might have noticed the beginnings of what could have been a smile forming - but it was nothing the young royal leaned into. Instead, his mouth opened as he stood back up and offered a bow of his head "Master Jedi". It was a formal greeting, certainly, but the familiar glimmer in his eyes as he sat down was not.

It was not long until food was brought in. Vince's eyes fell down to the plate as if pondering whether to have a bite or not. Finally, he picked the cutlery up and calmly begun eating. From the outside, it would have been easy to suspect that he was paying more attention to the meal than to the discussion at hand - but those who knew him well would know that that was far from the truth.

Gaze still low, Vince offered a short "We may be able to provide you with some degree of relief." The Royal looked to robotic being across the table. He shook his head "Freeing up and moving funds, however, it requires wiggle room." They all likely knew of the challenges he spoke of.

By this point, the half finished plate had been laying infront of him untouched for some time laid infront of him. Finally, the monarch gave it a small shove and clasped his hands on the space that had just been freed up. Looking up to the others in attendance he spoke "We have been passive for far too long." Once more, referencing himself only. "But every time we move to free some funds up, we risk exposing ourselves. Whatever it is we gain has to outweigh the risk."

In a way, Vince sounded like his predecessor. His mother. Calculating, risk averse and careful. Quite the opposite to the reckless warrior Prince who had rushed to the frontlines so many times in the past. But then, his mere attendance carried a degree of risk in its own right.