Sor-Jan Xantha
Got Soup?
Mon Calamari // The Worlds of the Sith Empire
The Cathar kitten had the furniture re-arranged inside of the former mayor's office.A daybed now lay in front of the large, round window that was so perfectly positioned to take in the sunlight. It had been a feature of the room that had been utterly wasted by the previous occupant, relegating the spot to merely a feature on the wall adjacent to the severe desk that had been the anchor point of the room.
In contrast to the Quarren who had served as the duly elected administrator, the kitten's tastes fully demonstrated his felinoid ancestry. A daybed languishing in sunlight. A scratching post. The furnishings were pushed out along the sides of the room, opening the space. A table toward the back was dominated by various holographic displays depicting the floating city.
The boy was stretched out on the daybed, lounging lazily as a slave imported from Zygerria kneaded his back, shoulders, and head. Under the masseuse's hands, the youngling was purring quite audibly. His tail slowly weaved side to side. His ears gave an occasional twitch, otherwise the boy was perfectly still.
That was not to say that he was not studying.
Captain Ghazikhanian was in the room, running through the myriad of mundane events and affairs that the badawan was little more than marginally interested in. Some minor misconduct noted by the stormtrooper patrols. Graffiti. Random acts of hooliganism as some paltry percentage of the base's population resisted the control of the Sith.
Such petty acts were not worth the Dark Child's attention. Certainly not that of the Dark Lord, so the incidents would most certainly not be included in his next school report as anything more than a footnote showing his work for the mathematical citation that would accompany the standard deviation of his statistical analysis of the security of Pisces Base.
Pisces Base was fully under the control of the Sith.
The elected leaders of the so-called democratic Mon Calamari government had all been rounded up, along with their supporters. Those who swore fealty to the Sith Emperor were rewarded with their lives and some measure of freedom. Those who would not were imprisoned on suspicion of ungentlemanly conduct. Which was the kitten's own catch-all for rebels, resistance fighters, and their sympathizers.
"There have been seventeen more arrests made in the past 24 hours."
The boy's left ear gave the slightest twitch. Cartier Ghazikhanian was a remarkable soldier. A veteran of the emperor's campaign at the Tion Cluster and from a highly influential family on Bastion.
He was also incredibly boring. "Even with the current pace of executions, our holding facilities are at capacity," the man reported, falling silent as he held himself with military self-discipline and allowed the datapad that he held to fall by his side.
Ostensibly, the captain was in command here. He was the military commander with authority of martial law to enforce the will of the Sith Emperor on Pisces Base. The Cathar kitten was merely the intendent -- a learning opportunity for a Sith Academy student to shadow a Sith Armada officer and better understand how one rules. A practical exercise in the stewardship of an empire on behalf of their emperor.
It was also an interesting contrast in the different ways in which power worked. Cartier Ghazikhanian had political power that bestowed upon him authority. But the kitten had a different power. A darker power. It made the youngling a rather interesting foil for the accomplished veteran of the empire's foreign wars.
Perhaps feeling ignored by the child that appeared to be napping through a massage, the man loudly cleared his throat before more plainly stating, "We simply do not have room to arrest them all."
Arching his back, the kitten stretched. Saying nothing for a moment, the boy pulled himself so that he was propped atop the daybed in a w-sit position. "Do you enjoy history, Captain?" the boy inquired.
It was very casual question. So much so, that its meaning seemed to miss the man entirely. "I am well versed in the classics," the captain replied dryly. His tone said volumes more than mere words. Why do you waste my time with this?
The masseuse's fingers work through the short fur atop the boy's head, working around his ears. "During the Second Imperial Civil War, the One Sith occupied Mon Cala and experienced similar difficulties to those we now face," the boy recalled, reciting a treatise that he'd just recently reviewed. The excursion to Mon Cala seemed a good time in which to reflect upon the history of the world with the Sith of the past.
History really did repeat itself. Which was all the more reason to study it. "They constructed extermination camps in order to alleviate the problem of overcrowding in the jails. I believe it is time that we re-enact the history of this planet," the boy noted, his ears fluttering before the masseuse moved down from the back of his head to his neck and shoulders. "I have sent for another student from the Royal Academy, who should be arriving soon."
Ghazikhanian had an excellent Sabaac face. But the boy could feel the man's concern at the prospect of another Sith acolyte there. Young. Unpredictable. Chaotic.
Perhaps such limited vision was to be expected of someone who could not fully appreciate the Dark Side of the Force. Chaos was a ladder. Like any tool, it had a use. "I expect that he will find the solution to our problem, Captain," the Cathar uttered simply. "One that will support our goal of Mon Cala becoming a more obedient province for our emperor."
[member="Elias Zenduu"]