Public Weep with Those Who Weep

[Zefgahld Qojex]

(A small bit of banter between a new Imperial Citizen who refused to flee from Coruscant for family's sake, as well as for a small bit of philosophizing/storytelling, hidden away from the gaze of Darksiders, if any Imperial characters might be interested in helping Zef here out.)

The Core, Coruscant
On the Mid-Level of Ghacin and Zefgahld Qojex's Apartment Complex
1241 Local Time, two weeks after the Fall of Coruscant

I sincerely hope this wasn't a horrible mistake to agree to.

The demure, lithe Amaran female thought to herself as she casually rested an elbow against a parked Security Airspeeder, the position making her appear lazy, especially due to her gray tail swaying to and fro subtly, almost restlessly. She cast her frosted eyes over the cityscape surrounding her, even as she did her best not to break down over the fact that she had resigned herself to, for the sake of her adopted parent. Atop her left hand, the symbol of the Galactic Empire had been tattooed on her flesh along with a spiderweb of rectangular circuitry, showing intricate and pale white even from beneath her soft gray fur, like droplets of silver flowing from the symbol itself; her hand was still sore from the application, and she had done her best to be as calm and serene as possible over the past two days - Thank the Light she and her Father had managed to secrete away their flimsiplast and paper tomes where the authorities wouldn't be able to find them!

From now on, it was a matter of reading discreetly in the dead of curfewed nights. Thank the Light she didn't have much of a social life.

The Amaran shook her head of unkempt scarlet hair, sighing as she traced her free hand over the tattoo, as though it were an infected wound. She found herself cursing the now-broken and weak Galactic Alliance.

If they had fought harder...

The ONLY thing that had compelled her to not flee Coruscant entirely was, in addition to a fondness for the world itself and her Godfather, was the knowledge that the non-Force Sensitives amongst the military were, at times, know to be honorable, brave and upright men and women of integrity. And it was with this knowledge in mind that the demure, lithe Amaran girl flicked her gray tail, folding her hands behind her back as she fiddled with the blue bandana tied around her unkempt head of hair, before once again relaxing against the airspeeder.

Surely, any moment now, some Imperial Official would notice her being out of place, and ask that she explain herself. The Imperial Recruiting Machine was her intended goal, for one of the Biggest Fools in the Galaxy, Zefgahld Qojex, resolved to serve the Light from the bowels of the Imperial Machine, for the honor of Coruscant, for her Godfather, and to share the Light with the Imperial Military itself, while serving the Jedi in secret, and the Imperial Military from within, for the sake of its own honor.

Either she was doomed to fail horribly, or else she would accomplish two paradoxical goals at once. All she needed now was for a pair of eyes to spot her!

For the Light, and for the Empire's Hidden Honor...

 

[Pious Tapp]

The Core, Coruscant
On the Mid-Level of Ghacin and Zefgahld Qojex's Apartment Complex
1244 Local Time, two weeks after Liberation
​

The apartment smelled like boiled stimcaf and fear.
Not the screaming kind. No one screamed anymore. Not this deep into the Core. This was the quieter sort, the kind that seeped into the walls and clung to every surface like stale grease. You didn’t notice it right away. It worked under your skin, slow and sour.

The man on the floor had that smell. Mid-tier administrator. Small-time dissident. Too proud of his encrypted reading habits. He sat cuffed and kneeling, one eye already swelling shut, breathing like each breath might be his last or his ticket out. I stood just inside the door, gloved hands behind my back, watching the team sweep the place. Personal items were being tagged and boxed. A child’s holotoy blinked on the floor near the officer with the binders. I stepped around it.

In the weeks since the fall, the Imperial machine had kicked into action. We were tasked with silencing even the gentlest of dissenting voices. A whisper in the right chasm can become a raging echo. And we didn’t need that. The Director didn’t need that. The Grand Vizier didn’t need that.

I struggled to feel any sort of empathy for the guy. He was just trying to survive, no doubt. But he did it obnoxiously. Without subtlety. That, to me, was enough. Not his intent. His execution. A sloppy execution would be ideal in this instance. Too many times we had bungled the capture. A neat blast hole to the back of the head ending the whole affair. Sure, it meant additional paperwork. But I had the time. I had the inclination.

My fingers itched on the trigger.
Make a wrong move. Do it.

“Get him out of here,” I barked, not caring if the neighbours heard. I wanted them to hear. Our footsteps were becoming the stuff of nightmares. Good.

As we walked the dank corridor, I resisted the urge, the rising adrenaline that comes with this kind of work. I would have condemned the entire block, just to send a message. There were millions of blocks like this. Who would miss one?

But I am just aN ISB Lieutenant. I have not got that kind of power.

Yet.

Through the door, past the grime-streaked transparisteel, I spotted movement by the curb. Someone small, half-wrapped in sand-dyed robes, leaning against a parked security airspeeder like they owned the sidewalk. Ears high. Watching. Amaran. Too relaxed to be local. Too still to be uninvolved.

I shifted my weight and clicked my comm twice. Quiet signal. Murik would know to lock it down. We came for one. Might be leaving with more.

“This is a restricted area, citizen,” I said, my tone making it clear. I was not here to play.

Zefgahld Qojex

 

[Zefgahld Qojex]

Pious Tapp (Love the name, by the way.)
The Core, Coruscant
On the Mid-Level of an Apartment Complex
1246 Local Time

The Amaran shrugged out of the simple threadbare robe, revealing light gray fur, with hints of smoke-white along her underside where her flat midriff was barely exposed; the Amaran - a female - took a step forward, loose-fitting white cargo pants, Sullustan-made and faintly covered in soot and the grime kicked up by the final stages of the invasion only days earlier, stained the fabric. Boldly and calmly, the fox alien reached into her pants pockets, to remove two handfuls... Of Galactic Alliance currency. A Nerf leather Corellian vest hugged over a slim and boyishly-flat torso, beneath which a simple urban camo t-shirt hugged over her arms and chest snugly.

"I guess I won't be needing this anymore..." The light metal rectangles clattered, plastic-like, to the platform's surface below. Even before the now-useless credits had finished bouncing, the Amaran flashed the back of her left hand towards the Imperial Officer who had comm-yelped at her: a solid black Imperial sigil stood out from the rest of the girl's fur even as the twenty-something continued to casually approach the Officer with wide, almost teenaged attention-seeking steps. At this point, she raised her gaze to meet the human's own calmly and resolutely.

Her eyes were bizarre: blue-gray sclera shown with moisture, even as a tear worked its way slowly down one side of her muzzle, and her irises were a rare shade of white over her dark pupils. She waved the back of her Imperial-tattooed left hand at the man, sporting the new Citizen Registry Interface with its bizarre flowing circuitry (in her case flowing from a ghostlike Imperial sigil), at the male, doing her absolute best to ensure that she didn't get her butt shot off.

The Amaran casually lowered her hands, stuffing both of them into her now-empty pockets as though she were a University student out enjoying a stroll - she looked young enough to be one, perhaps, in this man's eyes.

"I have heard that Military Service guarantees citizenship and some perks, right?" The girl tilted her head, one gray ear twitching as her muzzle briefly parted in a yawn, her voice a strange accent that combined Coruscanti and Sullustan together with some unknown third influence, making her vocal inflections hard to place.

With her bushy, black-tipped tail shivering, the woman cracked her neck as she leaned to one side, this time against the tan duracrete wall that adorned the entrance to the apartment building, waiting for the man's response while she removed a hand to casually adjust the midnight blue fabric holding her perpetually-unkempt bright red hair in place beneath it.

"Do you allow aliens to serve in any official capacity, Sir? I used to work with the Coruscant Security Force not too long ago, if that helps matters at all."

She didn't even cast her eyes as the Officer's men, who were in the process of dragging out a cuffed Near-human, a neighbor that the Amaran recognized, who had decided not to play it safe or clandestinely. She watched for a second more, before shifting her alien eyes back to meet the Officer's own calmly and politely.

 

[Pious Tapp]

The Core, Coruscant
On the Mid-Level of Ghacin and Zefgahld Qojex's Apartment Complex
1244 Local Time, two weeks after Liberation
​

The Amaran’s credits hit the ground with that cheap, hollow clatter only post-collapse scrip makes. I watched them fall, bounce, and roll lazy across the grime-stained duracrete. A gesture meant to impress. Or distract. Or beg.

I didn’t move.

The tattoo on her hand was fresh, black, too clean. Registry ink. The circuitry pulsed faintly beneath the fur. Could be earned. Could be forged. Could be someone with pull decided she was worth it. Any of the three pissed me off.

“Military service guarantees citizenship,” I said, stepping close enough she had to tilt her muzzle up to keep eye contact. “For those who qualify. And keep their stories straight.”

Her tail twitched. Nerves or fear. Useful either way.

“You're a long way from the Service Centre.” I glanced at the Near Human my men were hauling into the speeder. He was still talking. His voice cracked like a cheap speaker. “And this isn’t where citizens come to ask about job openings.”

I circled her slow. Boots grinding credits into the concrete. She smelled like smoke, ship fuel, and recent mistakes.

“Security, right?” I stopped at her shoulder, let it hang in the air between us. “Strange place to loiter. Especially during an ISB sweep.”

I leaned in, let my voice drop low and quiet. A threat dressed as a whisper.

“So let’s skip the dance. You turning yourself in? Offering favors? Or just making sure your name doesn’t land on tonight’s docket?”

I tilted my head toward the entrance. Murik stood there, broad and still, like a verdict waiting to be read.

“If you want to serve, start with the truth. If you want to survive, start by telling me why you were watching my men work.”

A beat.

“And why you decided being a Alliance patriot isn’t worth it anymore.”

Zefgahld Qojex

 

[Zefgahld Qojex]

Pious Tapp
The Amaran's muzzle twitched as she tilted her head a bit, to keep those odd blue-gray and ice-white eyeballs looking straight up into the human's own. Somewhere in her brain, her old Security Force training kicked back in, and she went rigid even as the Imperial whispered his harsh words as they googly-eyed each other for a moment or two. A tear shifted out of the outer corner of one eye, to begin to work its way down through her light gray fur and down towards the corner of her muzzle, more out of sadness then out of any sense of fear or self-preservation.

Her old training straightened her lithe back (even despite the pain), curled her bushy gray, black-tipped tail upwards to the right and made her thin, delicate-looking little arms shift into place behind her, to fold against her lower back as though at attention. Her gaze was kept even with the human's own even as her head shifted back up a little as he pulled back enough to give her muzzle a bit more room.

"Well, the Galactic Alliance was getting corrupted and weak before it was all over with, when all was said and done, right?" A booted foot shifted to ne side, kicking a rectangular credit to one side; it bounced a handful of times before falling off the platform's edge, where, by chance, it ricocheted off the solar panel of a TIE that RRRRR'D its way past them, the pilot no doubt heedless as to the plight of those on the platform. "In short, they lost for a reason - the Jedi should have practiced a bit more foresight and either tried to focus on removing internal corruption before it got as bad as it did - they ignored the elements that were there - and you'd think more of them should have withdrawn their support, don't you agree? But in the end, the Galactic Alliance's failures were more internal then most might like to admit."

To say nothing of the failure to protect Coruscant... she thought glumly. "I'm just thankful my apartment only got a ton of soot all over it and a few stray blaster bolts instead of anything worse."

The slim fox alien kept her body as rigid as she did during inspections back in her CSF days a few years back, even as she kept as calm as possible when facing the human, even despite her heart's thundering harshly in her chest.

"The truth, Sir." Those bizarre eyes blinked at him, before maintaining their stoic, non-romantic plastering of their colors into his own, "I've nowhere else to go and it wouldn't be right to abandon Coruscant, so my adopted day - the fat Sullustan with small jowls and the weird silver eyes up in that apartment," one of the fox alien's hands shifted to point a clawed digit up towards one of the higher balconies, "We got the Citizen Registry Interfaces two days ago at that temporary building you put up before you finalize everything, and it still hurts like a Huttwife after a full litter, because we don't want to lose everything we have, and we never were big on vacations, so we have nowhere else." Her left hand lowered, presenting the back of her hand in the best approximation she could think of to display good intent.

A finger extended to point to the guards and the shocked Near-human of undeterminable origin with his odd, brick-red skin. "You guys are near my apartment building that the Galactic Alliance failed to protect, in short - how can I not watch you, at this point?"

"Also, if I can serve, I can offer combat experience, stealth capabilities and Security Force training, all of which could easily transfer over to military protocols in some fashion."

She smiled up at him, as though daring him to challenge her, "How is refusing an extra set of hands and a willingness to learn in defiance of the Galactic Alliance's horrible recent failures in any way going to harm you? Again, I've got nothing. Left..." Her harshness emphasized the last two words.

(Cue ass kicking...)