Private What do you know of Homunculus? Lord Strosius

[Mythem Yittreas]

Mythem descended the boarding ramp onto the windswept landing platform of Keldooine's primary spaceport, the dry, acrid air of this minor Hutt Space trade world biting at her skin. Golden eyes swept across the bustling terminal where battered freighters from across the Outer Rim unloaded crates under the lazy gaze of Hutt enforcers and customs droids.

Red hair stirred beneath its simple green band, loose strands brushing her pale cheek as the faint hum of repulsorlifts and haggling merchants filled the dusty haze.

This backwater planet had become the latest knot in a treacherous web. A renegade organization known as the Seyugi Dervish were manufacturing dangerous Homunculus and smuggling them to growing resistance factions operating inside the territory of the Sith Order. The betrayal burned like acid in her veins.

These creatures weren't mere tools; they were weapons aimed at the heart of their Empress's Empire and that would not stand.

She spotted Darth Strosius waiting in the shadow of two massive cargo haulers, his presence a cold, calculating anchor in the Force. Mythem approached with measured strides, boots crunching over grit and spilled lubricant, her expression calm despite the severity of the situation they found themselves in.

"Darth Strosius," she greeted, voice low to cut through the port noise. "The trail ends here. Two shipments already passed through this very dock last cycle. The homunculi are being armed, conditioned, and slipping through the Blackwall by some means. If we strike now, we can gut their distributors before they vanish into the underworld." Her golden gaze locked onto his with anticipation at the thought of working with the former blade of the Tsis'kaar, and the Order's foremost Heretic.

The wind carried the distant clang of loading ramps and the scent of spice and desperation. Somewhere in these shadowed hangars, answers waited. Mythem's fingers flexed at her sides, dark-side energy coiling like a serpent ready to strike.

 

[Darth Strosius]

It wasn't often that Darth Strosius discovered the subversive actions of someone else within Sith space, or attempting to enter into said space in this particular instance. He was rather adept at exploiting the few gaps within the Blackwall by this point and was used to being the only one to do so. Yet as of late He'd had reports from His forces come back with sightings and clashes with others in these narrow and shifting routes. At first He'd assumed that one of the governors' fleets had finally discovered His little routes however it didn't tale long for the truth to come to light.

Someone else within the Outer Rim was moving through the Blackwall. And that was simply something that He couldn't abide by. Evidently they'd been the source of several minor yet deadly revolts possessing some hideous yet deadly creatures, but that wasn't His concern. What worried Him far more was the risk of the routes that He relied upon into and out of the Blackwall being discovered due to the meddling of these interlopers, and for that reason He had to see to their end personally.

Yet not alone as He'd wished. Unfortunately these monster makers had indeed garnered the attention of enough within Sith space to warrant an investigation and the dispatching of someone to clean up the mess. As per usual though, the Sith Order's leadership didn't think much of an external threat. Only one lone Knight had been sent after all, how lucky for her that the masked Sith Lord took this threat seriously. Even if not for the same reason that she might have.

Darth Strosius met her greeting with a nod, still occupying His position between crates as He idly looked over the hangar around them. "An operation like this requires a very comfortable spot indeed." He noted as He finally pushed off from the crate that He'd been leaning against whilst waiting for the Knight's arrival. "Secure and consistent supplies, logistics the likes of which most groups can only accumulate after years of investment and reputation building. Whoever is making these homunculi are far above the typical criminal trash that infest this planet."

It was perhaps an obvious observation but He wasn't certain how experienced Knight Yittreas might be with the criminal underworld. He had been waging war on it for decades now but most, especially not most Sith, couldn't say the same. If nothing else she was most definitely correct about needing to strike swiftly and decisively, a group with these sorts of connections could disappear without a trace with just one well spent call if need be. He couldn't allow that to happen.

"Are there any ships or transponder codes that they seem to favor? We can narrow down their hangars if we can discern their vessels of choice."

Mythem Yittreas

 

[Mythem Yittreas]

Mythem's golden eyes flicked upward at Darth Strosius question, the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of her mouth hidden behind the wind-whipped strands of red hair. The masked Lord's pragmatism was refreshing, most Sith of his rank preferred grand declarations over the tedious work of narrowing transponder signatures but she had already run those same calculations in the hours before planetfall.

"No consistent codes," she answered, voice pitched just loud enough to carry over the clang of a nearby loader droid. "They're using ghost transponders, cycling every third jump. Clever, but not clever enough to avoid being tagged in the dockmaster's terminal. They keep detailed records of who comes and goes here, useful for our mission." She tilted her head toward the squat, fortified tower that loomed at the far edge of the landing field, its duracrete walls stained ochre by years of sandstorms and neglect.

She began to walk, not pausing for him to catch up, her boots stirring up tiny clouds of dust. Keldooine was a planet under the control of the Hutt Cartel, even during the rule of the Black Sun Syndicate, making the streets unwelcoming after dark. You wouldn't want to be out there, lest you attract the attention of enforcers, which could escalate this stealth mission into unnecessary violence.

"The dockmaster's abode is our first lead. That rodian slimeball knows every crate that comes off a ship, every bribe paid and any extra cargo that goes through his loading docks. If the Seyugi Dervish have been moving homunculi through here, he'll know which hangars they favor, which loaders they grease, and which pilots they trust to keep their mouths shut." A low, amused chuckle escaped her as they passed a cluster of arguing Weequay longshoremen. She glanced at the towering Sith Lord, letting the wind carry her next words with just enough playful edge to test the waters.

"Tell me, my lord… how is your Huttese these days?" Her smirk grew slightly wider, golden eyes flashing with a hint of amusement. "I'd hate for you to have to rely on me to translate while we're convincing the dockmaster to be… cooperative." She let the implication linger, fingers flexing once more at her sides. The tower's heavy blast doors were already sliding open ahead of them, two Gamorrean guards grunting in recognition of armed visitors who clearly weren't here to pay docking fees.