Smugglers, Crystals, and a Senator

[los]

(Did I just pop open a new thread on an unused forum? You bet I did.)

The <i>Celestial Fire</i> reverted back to real space just as a klaxon drew him out of sleep. Hyperspace travel was dull, with nothing but the low hum of the hyperdrive as the ship slipped faster than lightspeed through the dimensions to make it back to realspace. As the hyperdrive shifted him through space and time to keep off the neat little paradoxes of relativity.

It was a quiet, peaceful void great for either meditation or catching up on some sleep, and Jevac Tor had done both during the trip. This didn't bother him in the least; most would have been quite bored, but between two students, mission after mission, and repeated attempts to assassinate him by an angry and now quite dead Hutt, the old Master was glad to just have a “milk run.” And maybe some time to recenter, meditate, and relax.

From space, Paolino looked like a giant emerald. It was even difficult to see where the cities were, as the crystals and trees forming the bulk of the planet's buildings blended into the arrays of forests and jungles and occasional savannas that covered the surface. It was an impression that he had been briefed would carry on the surface; the Paolinoans built very little out of duracrete and durasteel. Their machines were like many other people's, but the technology of their crystal-grown cities, married and tended to with such care they were fused to the woods, was unique to their world, as was their use of these crystals for a thousand other tools. It made the world unique, as unique as the lethal deserts of Iridonia, the endless blue seas of Manaan, the planet-wide cities of Coruscant or Denon, and even the never-ending training and parade-grounds of his homeworld, Anaxes.

Besides, Erin and Veyna needed a chance to refocus themselves; he had run the two ragged to bring them up to speed. Now was a good time for all of them to remember they all had lives and obligations aside from the Order. In the Old Republic, the Jedi were nothing but Jedi; they had no families aside from each other, no other ties aside from the Force and duty. Times changed. Righteous asceticism was its own meaningless attachment. They were not to be sequestered from the world; the much-needed wisdom that had to accompany strength in the Force was won in the real galaxy, immersed in life-at-large, without hiding away. That had been the mistake of the Old Order.

But it was awfully hard to wax philosophical while rolling out of bed and dressing, making sure he was presentable for the Senator as the <i>Celestial Fire</i> made its way down to the planet. The ship was perfectly capable of landing itself without his interference, but Jevac was still in the cockpit by the time they entered the atmosphere with his old R6 plugged into the navicomputer. It was pretty uneventful on the ride down, but Jevac still took it in manually, having later in life started to enjoy flying. It was too bad all he had to do was set down the ship in a closed, nondescript landing bay in Pealmora, the kind no one had -any- reason to suspect was used by important personnel. Indeed, most of the facility was used for plain commercial traffic.

The Jedi's starship was an old Citadel Cruiser, a V-shaped freighter with two empty ports for carrying fighters. It was almost forty meters. The old Citadels were an ancient, rugged design, almost a hundred years old. Most were now just used for shipping lanes. This one, however, had been painted a matte black except for the flame-themes name of <i>Celestial Fire</i> near the cockpit. The old Cruisers were usually just small transports hauling a select group of passengers or a few tons of cargo, but this one had been transformed. It was a home-away-from-home for three Jedi, a weapons platform, a command post, a place to entertain VIPs, a survival base, a means of transportation, an exploratory craft. But even its lines seemed a bit aggressive as it set down, between the four turrets and seismic charge emitter and four torpedo tubes.

The Cruiser's wings folded up as the pods came down. The ship settled on its pods and small blasts of steam and gas came. Droids immediately set to refuel it while Jevac stopped to check through the blackened cockpit of the craft. A delegation of two waited for him below, which was one more than he needed. Really, he did not relish the idea that Senator Tal herself had come to meet him at the starport; it made this seem like he was important, and not in service. The -last- thing he wanted to do was create an impression that the Jedi were in charge of anything, or taking over anything in an official manner. Her planet, her rules, as the saying went.

Jevac exited the ship alone save for the whirring R6 droid that accompanied him to meet the delegation, hoping that it was small. He eschewed the Old Republic tradition of brown and white robes in favor of a black one over a simple black tunic. Of course he was armed, but the two weapons hung in the folds of his robe and were hidden. And aside from his dark clothing and shaved head, he seemed unremarkable. Jevac was taller than most but not abnormally so, and his clothing hid most details of his build. Coming down the ramp of the ship with only Beta in tow, he certainly didn't -seem- to fit the reputation that their liaison at the Office of the Jedi Oversight Committee of the Galactic Senate had suggested. And the look in the eyes of her two dignitaries seemed to suggest they thought so themselves. He really had very little as far as baggage short of personal supplies, which Jevac preferred to carry himself.

But then again, grand entrances were never his style. Anaxes will make a man sick to death of pomp and circumstance.

After a short zip along in a landspeeder, he arrived at what could only be called a palace, its domes of white hedged with greens and blues of the crystaline growths much of the city was made of. It was elegant in its majesty, not designed to make a visitor feel small but having something of that effect. They dropped him off, took his things as they gave him information on some very nice quarters where they expected him to stay, and then transferred him over to a string of assistants who led him through the process to finally be led into the Office of Senator Tal herself.

And as he did not know the woman personally, the Anaxsi entered and waited to see what reception the Senator had in store for Master Tor and the quiet little droid with him.

And of course, to the droid, it was all a grand adventure.

~

”But Senator…”

The tiny voice broke off with a faint crackle coming from the diminutive hologram atop the translucent azure crystal table-top, the image depicting a man with broad shoulders and coal black hair just starting to fade to gray and dark, onyx eyes. Something was lost in the static, the image flickered, and silence fell over the trio seated around the table.

”…take these losses for much longer!”

A calm stillness was settled over her pale, carven features as Turquil Meerath tried to give her his best glare of intimidation via the small, wavering image, the effect utterly lost on the delicate woman who sat with erect posture and unfailing quiet grace in the great, cushioned round chair, skirts of a shimmering emerald and ruby and silver fabric rustling out around her in ethereal elegance, the adornment of tiny gemstones along the flattened and stiff stomacher of the gown glittering brilliantly in the warm, luminescent glow of the small lamps set in the room, the tiny crystals within the hollow orbs producing a lightsource that was as unobtrusive as it was illuminating. The head-dress of the elaborate and lovely costume rose in a delicate arch of intricately stitched fabric sewn with tiny rubies, emeralds and diamonds, framing the expressionless face of the lovely politician gazing at the owner of one of Paolino’s largest crystal exporting freighter companies.

The financial remuneration he asked for was an exorbitant amount. The stiffening of Allahuro’s shoulders told the Senator that the figure was much higher than the Minister of Finance was prepared to discuss, the list of calculations of loss laid at the door of the planetary government including not only an amount for each man’s life lost in the attacks, but the cost of the cargo – which was enormous in and of itself and far beyond what Emmaurade knew the sale value of the raw crystals shipped so carelessly was – and the value of a new ship, not the ancient craft the captain fumbled into an asteroid belt outside one of their twin moons with.

A surreptitious flicker of brilliant emerald eyes nestled in a bed of long, sooty lashes to her left told the Senator that the Export Minister was busily making calculations on a tiny data plate while casting swift glances to the small monitor. It left her to give the answer the holographic image was obviously, impatiently, waiting for.

”We are not ignorant of your losses, sir, and you have my assurance that the matter is being taken care of, as we speak. Once an answer has been reached, then can the restitutions be made. However it has never been and never will be the policy of this government and especially this office to simply hand out sum’s of credit’s under such suspicious circumstances. Your pilot was negligent in his flying and your craft not up to galactic code. There will be an investigation, Mr. Meerath, to ascertain the very nature of this event and if it is, indeed, part of the series of cargo’s targeted by the bandits currently plaguing Paolino.”

There was a gentle hint of steel in the words that gave his retort pause on his tongue, causing even Maurio, the Export Minister, to pause in his rapid figuring and look up at the slim woman with a faint hint of speculation in his eyes. She spoke eloquently to the man, gently but firmly, and told him in subtle but by no means hidden terms that she would not be bullied nor provoked, bribed nor purchased, but instead would treat him and his claim with a neutral sense of justice that, were the man lying or attempting extortion, would see him promptly regret his ignorance in actions. The Senator was fair, honest, but unfailingly polite.

A slight dip of her head saw Allahuro running his fingertip over a small, red button, causing the image to waver in the center of the table, flickering and then abruptly disappearing, leaving the three alone in the spacious room, a wide sweep of cleared walls opening to show a sweeping sea of emerald green stretching to meet a deep, vibrant azure blue sky that flickered and played with a faint reflection of the Crysalays waterfalls, an image one only recognized if they knew what they were gazing at over the ivory quartz and pale blue/green crystal city of Paelmora, the Gleaming Heart.

”He is not the first. He won’t be the last. Minister’s, I need your analysis’ quickly.”

”What of the Council? And the Jedi?”

Rorn’s voice was like raw gravel rumbling together, deep and vibrating in one’s bones. It instantly drew her eyes back to him.

”What of them? I asked for a Jedi to come lend assistance to this menace. Not declare a state of martial law. I am aware of your complaints against this, Rorn, and they have been marked as such, but the council agreed to my request, and by majority of votes.”

She held his look for a long moment, Allahuro’s dark green eyes shifting uncomfortably away from the pair and silently cursing the Export Minister for a fool. Emmaurade was a rare woman, powerful yet feminine, intelligent yet sensitive to others, kind yet with a steel running through her that could be unfalteringly strong. Rorn looked away first and shook his head slowly.

”Thank you both. I will see you at the meeting in the morning.”

It was a summary dismissal, and both knew and took it as such, gathering what small things were spread on the table before them, some paper, a small recording type device, computers and mini-computers, all under her silent and watchful eye. The door on the far side slid open as they both rose from the large, round cushioned chairs, admitting a slender, delicate woman, young enough to just be out of the school’s and with eyes so vivid a blue hue they were nearly startling, glowing as if illuminated from within – a child of the Crysalays villages. Born near the hauntingly beautiful, glowing waterfalls, something in the air seemed to leech into the children born nearby and marking them with the unnatural glow of the blue eyes, a trait not uncommon, but still startling in its varying degree’s.

Allahuro managed to avert his eyes from the slim, dark haired woman as she entered carrying a slender, flat oval tray, her steps silent on the thickly cushioned rug floor, the graceful, curving pot and pair of cups settled on the tray marking the beverage for the Senator and another, unnamed, unannounced guest. Rorn stared for a moment, stumbled over a small chair settled at a curved angle to the small set of shelves housing a number of tiny, holographic images in various poses, and then quickly slipped to the door.

”Ahh. Dallia. Just in time. I take it my guest has arrived? No, set the sevalla there, on the side table.”

The low voice held the faintest hint of a husky clipped accent to it that would be strange to a foreigner’s ears, motioning to a small table and set of golden gilt chairs in a corner of the large office where she would be able to speak to the Jedi Master, and not over the vast space of a desk, but instead to his face, as the Senator preferred. The worry that her people were feeling was mirrored in the slight tremble of her stomach as she rose from the azure crystal desk and moved to the far wall while the servant to the office of the senator settled the place for the two, setting out a small snack of fresh fruit and succulent, chilled juice as well. While not known for their hospitality, it existed none-the-less there, deeply ingrained just beneath the surface of their modern aspect, an ancient tradition that Emma found she could not relinquish, no matter how the times had changed. The Jedi would be offered quarters of excellent standing, food of the finest quality, access to their systems as needed to settle this issue that threatened their very way of life.

The woman exited as silently as she entered and left the Senator to gaze over the eastern quarter of the city, a beautiful red burn arcing over the sky marking a giant passenger plane that traveled every evening on a routine regularity from Paelmora to Esthan, the second largest city on Paolino. Traffic between the three major planetary cities was oft filled with business people who lived in one location and worked in another, or vacationers who held passes for unrestricted interplanet travel, or tradesmen moving to and from one client to another, following the ebb and flow of the crystal production and sales, everyone from harvesters to crafters to polishers to technicians who took the pure blue glowing crystals and harnessed their ambient energy to power the tiny microchips that could power a thousand things from a lamp to a hyperspace engine.

Crystals that were being stolen after leaving the planet but before reaching their destinations. It was a worrisome problem, and one that was perhaps larger than the immediate nature of the thefts. Emmaurade knew what the Paolino Crystals could be altered into with little more than slightly advanced knowledge of their very nature, thus her trip to Corusicant and the Galactic council there, where she was met with slightly warmer than a friendly greeting by some of the Senator’s own equals. And where they had agreed immediately with her conclusion that it would have to be dealt with, and swiftly. Synthetic crystals were nothing to be taken lightly.

”Senator Tal is expecting you, Master Tor.”

Dallia waited in a small receiving room outside the closed door that would sweep open silently to grant them admittance to the inner sanctum of the planetary Senator, her tiny figure almost diminutive against the larger Jedi master, her soft voice still tinted with the years of youth and her glowing blue eyes looking curiously over the man before quickly averting to the door. Her features were politely blank and masked by a loose cascade of long, dark sable hair whispering to her small, slim waist covered by a shimmering, azure blue clothe running in a long, straight skirt to her bared feet.

The door slipped open silently when the girl turned to it, fitting back neatly on grooves into the wall and with a tiny glitter of pearlescent pink shimmer to it as it moved, opening to the great room within where the walls were a gleaming, cool emerald color and flickered as if shifting with the curling lap of the eternal tide of the sea. Motioning to the figure at the far end of the room and framed by wide walls void of window, door or enclosure, allowing for an unobstructed view of a magnificent vista, Dallia waited for the Jedi to enter before exiting as silently as she entered, leaving the pair alone.

Emma knew she was not alone in the room any longer, and a slow smile swept up the curved ruby lips, turning very slowly at the wide wall to get her first view of the man she’d poured over information about but had never met. Her quiet gaze was intense for a moment, studious, as if measuring the reality for the written deeds and noted gifts while she stood with hands clasped together before her slim waist, the long gleaming silver chain studded with rubies and emeralds dangling from her narrow waist running down nearly to the floor winking and glittering as she moved and shift on feet unable to be seen for the wide flare of the long skirts.

When she spoke at last, it was with a soft voice and a faint motion of the delicate fingers unclasping at her waist, gesturing to the pair of chairs in the corner nearby the opened wall.

”Master Tor. Thank you for coming. Come, will you sit? Your journey was long, no doubt. Will you take refreshment before we speak of business and what brings you now to Paolino?”

The ingrained delicacies of her very culture leeched into the slim woman as iridescent emerald fabric gleamed when she moved to the indicated chairs, a blending that served Emmaurade well when serving her planet in the senate, and if the Jedi had done his homework about her half so well as she had about him, he would know the Senator, young for her position but not uncommonly so, was of one of the oldest of families on the planet and would adhere to the mores of her culture no matter the catastrophe, or in the case of the small, green planet, impending catastrophe.

~

[los]

It was piracy, plain and simple. In the old days of the Azure Imperium, back before the rise of Coruscant, it was punished with death. These were more humane times. In the ancient world, when pirates sailed wooden or steel ships, they were hung. In the old Republic, it was the spice mines of Kessel. And now, in this new, brave era after the Vong and the Insurrections, there were many clamoring for death again. Piracy had become all the more common in the lawless galaxy, with the weakened Alliance and the still-shaken Empire seemingly unable to contain it. When scared, even civilized people would want the killers executed. But it wasn't his role to mete out death as a punishment, but only to do whatever he could to assist the Paolinoans in facing this themselves.

At least, so ran the official explanation.

The truth was that the Paolinoans traded a luxury good in their precious crystals for most of what they wanted, and they were used to peace and plenty, even after the great wars of their era. And now they were being raided. It was beyond any one man to solve the problem, or beyond any two. But so long as they could show the Paolinoans to solve the problem themselves, it would be done, and he hoped that Senator Tal had that sort of character. All he had had of her was a brief description and some old holos of her in the Senate. Some histories. That was not enough to know how -she- would fare, but he had already bent considerable thought on -what- advice he could bring. What he did not like was carrying his second agenda; the Order needed to know their new technology. They needed to know what the crystals could really do. And if those crystals were being stolen not for their artistic value, or their rarity, or even their energy generation properties.

It was really about whether or not the Paolinoan crystals could forge a laser sword.

At least Senator Tal understood exactly why that was so important, though he doubted her government would in full. After all, they would be comprised mainly of people who had -heard of- the Force, but not who understood its power when abused.

And entering the reception room, the servant and the Jedi couldn't stand in greater contrast. Her brilliant clothes were a complete contrast to the inky, plain black of his. He stood much taller than she, and had a brisk manner that would fit in well with his militarized homeworld. She was silent in bare feet, and he had on well-traveled, shining black boots. He even felt a bit out-of-place amongst the living crystalline structure. Jevac Tor was the anomaly who stood out in relief, bringing a foreign manner into a world rife with its own traditions.

Finally he met the Senator. She was a bit shorter and smaller than he expected, with a brisk and tough smile and an obvious studiousness about her. He had to bow, of course, and did so as a sign of their role as servants of the Senate. Senator Tal spoke to him formally, and he had to respond as he had to Bionbyr.

“Jevac, please, Senator,” he said. His voice was a calm baritone. “And thank you, but no. I tried reading as many reports as I could, but I've learned anything the GFFA tells me about what's going on is right out the window about five seconds in system.” He smiled just a little bit, then went to his seat near hers, waiting for her to take her seat first. “And I have some good news. A bulk of your shipment has been recovered by a man by the name of Harris. Mr. Wesley Harris, at least, according to how he identified himself. His ship should be coming out of hyperspace in several hours with the shipment and he intends to simply return the goods, though I'll bet credits to donuts that he'll want a shipping contract for a great deal in exchange.” A faint smile. Jevac never expected many people to serve for nothing. “I actually expect him to contact us at some point later in the day.”

~

He moved with a controlled grace, but she had expected that. His bow was smoothly produced, but again, she expected that. His voice was calm and low, and given his stature, Emma found she expected that, too, finding him wholly ordinary save the sable hue he favored and gleaming luster of his bald head in a land where gaudy at times could run to ostentatious and a society that could have opulence for its hallmark. He would stand out like a black tear in an ocean of vibrant shades, and to some it would be disconcerting, but to the Senator, she found it… almost amusing. And that trifle of humor showed in the vivacious sparkle of those emerald hued eyes as her seat was found.

”Jevac, then.”

The name was murmured back to him in a faint tone to match the soft sweep of the rich emerald fabric, her hand smoothing the skirt as the chair was enveloped by the flow of such luxuriant cloth, each movement a glittering symphony of jewels and crystals against the backdrop of vivid hue so that the Senator gleamed in the warm light like something of value herself, a living work of art in the adornment of her office. Delicate fingers paused in the act of reaching for the lidded pot, small and warm to the touch marking the steaming drink within as he spoke, and for a moment the neutrality of the politician’s façade faltered under the enlightenment of his news.

A tiny curl of steam rose from the thick, dark ruby liquid as it cascaded from the spout of the pot and into the small, simple white cup, a rich aroma escaping to mark the warm, coffee-like drink of the planet what the woman tilted into that cup, a drink bitter when served cold but hot was sweet and smooth with a very faint honey-like taste. His smile was met over the rim of that lifted cup as she let him finish, Emma taking a very tiny sip of the sevalla and feeling it slide down her throat.

”Well. That is good news, insomuch as he has recovered a valuable cargo.”

There was a careful blandness to her words, offered to the Jedi with all the mystery of a politician and the guile of a woman, her delicate fingers winking with the play of a large, emerald and diamond ring resting on her index finger, a tiny flicker of gold and silver chain interlinking on her delicate wrist as the cup was returned to the small table. Once emptied, the hands returned to calmly clasp together in her lap, the slim woman seated in almost statue-like stillness and with an alert glitter to the bright green eyes, a very slight canting of her head shifting the headdress framing the vividly sculpted pale features, a loose chestnut curl shifting from the carefully and artfully upswept coiffure shifting with the motion, not a statue at all.

”No doubt the council will wish to meet with him, then. Alliances for trade are made under their guidance with foreign freighters.”

The pause that came was laden with a significance, though her voice retained its same husky, neutral quality, the bright eyes shifting to meet his gaze again and with the skill of her gender lock unobtrusively into his, her hands placed carefully still in her lap while the head was uprighted again to stillness.

”Did this… Mr. Wesley Harris… come to tell you just how it was that he had come to the possession of a stolen shipment from Paolino?”

~

While she remained so still, attentive, he spoke at ease, hands moving back and forth as he gave her the information. “Senator, that is your own council's business regarding trade. The Alliance has only asked me to help your people end the attacks.” That was a lie they were both a party to, so it wasn't a lie. Jevac and Emmaurade both knew the secondary reason. However, given the old saw about three keeping a secret only when two were dead, it was better to not mention it where a curious servant might overhear. The mention of a possible cult was enough to create more dread still than even the rash of theft would. “Still, anyone with a dreadnaught is not doing charity work. Captain Harris acquired the cargo off a small group of pirates; his own ship was attacked and the attackers were disabled by his ion cannons. Of course, what the captured pirates themselves reported was they'd stolen the cargo from -other- pirate scum. As for Captain Harris, he's a dealer in rarities and curios,” Jevac said, smiling just a bit faintly, before he added, “and from what I've heard of the man, he'll enjoy making a very grand entrance. He's a private trader, runs his own ship under no flag. Based on what I have, Captain Harris is clean. Call it luck, if you like, that it is bound for Paolino.”

Of course, what Jevac did not know was much about the man's character himself. The Senator was a calm woman from an old-money noble family, a tradition and background similar to his own but one that he stood in sharp contrast against. The gentleman with the loot and the ship was an unknown. Meanwhile, the Senator met his gaze and had that penetrating stare, as if to read strangers around her like words across datapads. No doubt, often enough it would work wonders; she was a small and attractive woman, the kind to disarm most men swiftly. But she was also wary and cunning, and it showed in her manners. But the man she was trying to read, to get a handle on, he was only lifting one of the curious, star-shaped fruit of the planet and bit into it.

Meanwhile, his droid began to beep and whirr, and the R6 unit was rolling forward. If the Senator understood Binary, the message was clear.

<i>Master, I have an encrypted message on frequency 146.734.</i>

“That will be our captain,” he said. The Alliance had told him where to call, but not whom. Sometimes it was nice to have a few cards up his sleeve as well. “Put it through, Beta.”

And as the holoemitter on his droid went on, revealing the pale blue image of the sender, Jevac waited quietly for Captain Harris' message.

~

"We're approaching the system now, sir."

The announcement was unnecessary, as the person being addressed had, on one of the consoles surrounding the command chair that he currently sat in and from which he directed the comings and goings of the large ship. But he made sure that his crew was in the habit of keeping him informed of what was going on, because often he was not aboard the bridge, and such announcements were required... and sent through comlink. This trip, however, was special case, and there were no clients aboard his ship at the moment. No, he'd seen the last seller off with his thanks, after having acquired several pieces of art that he thought he already had a buyer for. It was just his crew aboard the ship at the moment, and that was how he wanted it to be, for this. There was no telling what would actually happen at this stop, and he didn't need additional people on board.

"Very good. Prepare to revert to realspace on my mark." A silent countdown was given, following the counting down of the timer on both his console and that of the pilots, until the timer reached zero, in conjunction with his command, "Mark."

The appropriate controls were manipulated on that one word, and Wesley Harris, captain of the Gentleman's Business watched as the mottled colors of hyperspace began to sharpen into starlines, which then shortened into stars themselves, arranged into patterns that Wesley didn't immediately recognize. He did not have to, however, as the sensors aboard his ship reported to him that this was indeed Paolino, the planet that was his destination. From his command chair he watched through the viewport as the ship approached the planet, his crew worked industriously and their various stations to ensure that everything happened the way that it should.

He could only imagine what was going on wherever the ship would be being watched from. And they would, of course, be under observation. You didn't jump into a new system, unannounced and unexpected, in a refitted warship, and expect to avoid being watched. It was something the crew was quite used to, as well as the suspicion in which they were treated, until it was finally accepted that they were not actually pirates, but simply employees of an honest businessman whose ship was heavily armed in an attempt to avoid those pirates himself.

After all, nobody particularly wanted to mess with a ship that was quite capable of fighting back.

The query came, as to the identity of the ship and its captain, and honest answers were given by the ship's computers, announcing their presence as Wesley motioned to his communications operator.

"Send a message planet-side. Wesley Harris here, to see Jedi Master Jevac Tor. I have the cargo that I promised, ready to be shuttled down to a location he specifies. I'll be standing by until I receive word from him." He watched, until the comm operator signaled that the message had been sent, then nodded and turned to walk from the bridge.

"Continue to hold our position, or move into whatever position the planetary officials deem fit for us. I'm going down to see the cargo loaded onto the shuttle. When Master Tor makes contact, route him through to my personal comlink and begin preparations to launch the shuttle." He received confirmations as he disappeared through the door out into the rest of the ship, making his way down to the turbolifts to head down to the hangar bay. A quick comlink call was placed ahead of him, to the cargo loaders, and when he stepped out onto the walkway that was the upper level of the hangar bay, they were already working.

Large crates were being loaded onto a Lambda-class shuttle, using cargo haulers that made the work capable for even humans to do, turning it into a very simple, rather boring job indeed. In short order the shuttle was loaded, as he made his way down to the main hangar floor.

"Is everything ready?"

The crewman nearest him when he spoke looked up to him with a nod, informing him that everything was, indeed, ready for the trip down to the planet, and that all they were waiting for was his command. Now, he just had to wait for word from the Jedi Master that they were ready for him.

~

[los]

Instead of the owner, as Jevac had expected, however, they got the holo image of bovine-headed Gran with large, dark eyes. Gran spoke, and had a tone as serious as any official aboard an official ship, treating this matter not as a spacer but as a professional might, “Master Tor of the Jedi Order, I am Ensign Nthregi, Communications Officer of the <i>Gentleman's Business</i>.” The Master responded only by raising a brow at the use of formal rank and title. “Captain Harris is requesting the landing coordinates you would like him to land at to deliver the cargo.”

Jevac's response was very simple, “Ensign, please connect us directly to Captain Harris while I put you through to someone who can give that information to him.” The Gran looked doubtful for just a second, and then began transferring the communication channels. Jevac glanced back to the Senator, then gesture for R6B17 to go ahead and move into position for her to respond when he finally came online. When the patch was complete, he said, “Captain Harris, Jevac Tor. I have someone from a very grateful government who would like to speak with you. This is Senator Tal of Paolino.”

~

Emmaurade recognized the blanket veil of his lie, the nature of his very purpose on the planet masked in a benevolent nature, and said nothing, knowing the mockery was brought by her own hand but accepting it none-the-less as necessary. None of them wished to say what he was thinking, and especially did not the lovely young Senator, her eyes slipping back into that political neutrality of veiled intrigue at his bland comment on the nature of their governing body. Paolino was governed as a planet by a council of nine, ministers and advisers who worked in conjunction with the planetary senator’s office to ensure Paolino prospered and the Paolinoans lived comfortably, peacefully, a quiet society that had worked smoothly for many, many millennia and with a relative quiet history.

The Jedi revealed nothing of the captain that she would not have expected nor been surprised by as he spoke, explaining his captaining of a free vessel and one quite capable of performing a number of acts, piracy and the defense from piracy among them. As the small robot began to whistle and click to life, the Senator sat with a quiet stillness to her carefully expressionless features, giving the Jedi a quick glance before the small droid wheeled before the pair at the small table.

So, the Council wanted to know what the fuss over the crystals was, Emma did not let a flicker of emotion wash over her vivid features, wondering if perhaps their significance would help, or hinder, the small planet and letting the image projected by the robot flicker to life in silence. It was not the captain she would expect, but when the Jedi spoke, Emmaurade understood immediately that it was a communications personnel, not the captain himself, and let a look of cool inquiry settle over the features as the small robot shift to settle before the delicately seated figure.

”Thank you, Jevac.”

Always with the decorum, the delicate head dipped slightly to the seated man as the image flickered, the connections of technology shifting from one line to another until the Jedi spoke while her image would project into crystal clear view for the captain of the ship holding her planet’s crystal export.

”Captain Harris. I understand you have come across a shipment recently lost by a Paolinoan merchant. We are grateful for its return.”

There was a smooth dignity to the diplomatic words, her phrase carefully turned to neither assess blame nor absolve of involvement the well-intended captain of the strange, armed vessel that a tiny flicker on the translucent, azure crystal desk told her was coming within range of their defenses. The delicately stitched emerald fabric rustled softly as she rose in a graceful rush of skirts and the glitter of thousands of jewels adorning her, gliding on silent feet over a thick synthetic fur rug of a rich, golden champagne color to the desk again, heedless of the small robot swiveling to keep the slender woman in motion in view of the holo it both projected and received.

”I am sending you coordinates now for a landing area nearby. I would like to extend an invitation to you to come to my offices personally and receive my thanks. Your crew is welcome as well, of course.”

Without the slightest faltering in her velvety soft voice, the nimble fingers found a small console hidden artfully in the delicately worked furniture and sent a swift series of numbers and digits flying across time and space on a frequency that was aimed for the huge, orbiting vessel, piggybacked on the transmission of the little droid from her office to the captain himself.

After that transmission of a landing sight both large enough and armed enough to possibly hold the Dreadnaught vessel at bay should intentions turn hostile, the Senator looked from behind her desk to the droid, then to the Jedi seated at the table again and fell silent, her face impassive as she felt the warm, glowing radiance of the crystal-brightened lamps pouring golden over her pale skin, dipping her head once to Jevac and elevating a smooth, arched sable brow while falling silent again.

~

He was not long in waiting, and a small smile came to his face when his comlink beeped at him, informing him that he had a call coming through. As always, the Jedi were very punctual. He had never been kept waiting long, when dealing with one. Thumbing on his comlink, he spoke calmly, as he nearly always did.

"Captain Wesley Harris, of the private ship Gentleman's Business, speaking." Hearing Jedi Master Tor's voice on the other end, he waited as he was informed that he was being given over to the local Senator to speak with, waiting, listening to what she had to had to tell him. And he had to admit that he was slightly surprised. It wasn't every planet that they visited that welcomed his entire crew down to the ground.

"Thank you, Senator Tal. I'll inform my crew that they've been welcomed to the planet, and see to it that they don't cause any trouble while they're there. I'm quite sure that they'll appreciate the chance for some shore leave..." He was genuinely pleased to hear that he would be able to set his ship down, and he knew that his crew would be more than excited to hear the news. "We will set down as soon as our preparations are made, Senator. Captain Harris, out."

The channel selector on the comlink was flipped, switching over to the ship's own frequency, and he called up to the bridge.
"Change of plans, people. You'll be receiving a set of coordinates soon, that will tell you where we're going. We've all been welcomed down to the planet, so it looks like you'll all be receiving some shore leave." He wasn't surprised by the background noise, he could hear at least one person shouting happily at the news, and he gave a soft chuckle. "When you receive the coordinates, take the ship down and set us down in the landing field that they've cleared for us. Then make preparations to transfer the ship over to automatic control, and see my executive officer for your shifts for the shore leave. We can't leave her completely unmanned, after all."

Confirmation of his order was given, and he motioned to the cargo handlers again. The shuttle now needed to be unloaded, much to their chagrin. But, while he knew that they would mutter under their breath at him once he was out of earshot, they all went to work, and he knew that the work was not difficult, merely time-consuming and tedious. Once everything was back and running, he returned to the bridge, where the pilots were taking the ship down to the specified coordinates, and preparing to make their landing.

It didn't take long to set the ship down, even though it had been a long time since the Dreadnaught had been set on the ground... they were small enough for atmospherical maneuvering, but there were few places that had landing pads large enough for a full-blown warship. His pilots were very skilled, though, and once they were safely on the ground, a transport tube was lowered down to the ground.

Moments later, Wesley was standing upon the ground, casting a quick glance around, wondering if he would have been send a welcoming committee, or if he was supposed to find his way around himself...

~

Of course he had to gloss over the other reason for the Jedi to be involved. Was piracy enough? Yes, it was, of course. The Order was sent to investigate pirates or help drive them back often. What was different here was that Paolino was a wealthy, peaceful world with the finances to handle the problem with force if they wanted to, but also with a technology that might be the target for the ancient enemies of the Order. And it took only a short history lesson to learn that the last things the Paolinoans wanted was a group of acolytes of the dark side stealing their secrets, or worse, for those same secrets to be spoon fed to what secret elements of the ancient Sith might remain. After all, less than thirty years had past since the terminus of the Civil War, and everyone still remembered the reign of terror of Palpatine and his toadies.

But would the Alliance be so willing to commit the Jedi Master to the task without that vague fear of another dark figure rising in the galaxy? Probably not, everyone would have to admit, though for whatever it would matter to Emmaurade and her Councilors it would be enough for -him- to come, though perhaps not enough for the Alliance to -send- him. It was, as ever, the strife between politics and ideals and the will of the Force. The Defense Forces, the Army and Navy, wanted expediency. Proposed lists of assets lost. At risk. The Senate wanted quick, bloodless victory, victory, victory. And they wanted it in ways that didn't cost anyone their swag for their planets, or left them on the record voting for a bad idea, or even left them committed to a conflict. No principle, just expediency, no spirit, just politics.

“Of course, Senator,” he said, but then fell silent. It was her role to be the leader and official. Sitting back to allow her to speak, he waited for her to address the Captain.

The Jedi waited until the young Senator to address the captain. The display on her desk was showing his craft, almost six hundred meters long, coming into the range of the orbital defenses that defended the planet. She sent the vessel coordinates for the full ship, though whether or not the dreadnaught needed to be docked on land. And it sounded like Captain Harris was going to take the offer.

“Excellent, Senator. I did want to talk to you about the different pirate attacks have taken place before he got here. I'm sure your enforcement have a great deal of information already, but I want to go over it myself too. Also...” he said, “it's safe to talk here, yes?” he asked. The droid whirred to life and she nodded; from Beta's bowels came a small antenna, rising out the truncated cone-head. Jevac nodded his head at her response and he went on.

“I believe your people are being plagued with pirates and nothing more, but it's enough of a disruption and we can't take any chances. I will do everything I can to help your people get to the bottom of how your goods are being stolen and to find out who is behind it. Most likely, it's just another group hoping to make a killing on the black market, some crime lord or another trying to open up a new operation. And if it's otherwise...we will prevent it from going any further,” he said. No discussion of -what- they would -try- to do, but a statement of intent.

“I know your people are quite good, Senator. I'm sure they're capable. So what I am going to say is most likely similar to some of the plans they're drawing up now. Your freighters are probably being picked up by good old-fashioned dock-watching as they leave, and then their location being reported to pirates out of system. Then the pirates move a gravity well generator into their hyperspace lane and ambush the ships. Since your people then tightened up security at the starports, however, somehow the information is still getting leaked. Either someone is bribing or intimidating the right people at the starports or there is a mole at the official level giving that information out. I've seen this kind of attack before and can suggest a counter-tactic. By using a hyperspace-capable probe as bait, and altering its transponders to make it claim to be another ship, you could draw out the raiders. Disguise the probe as a ship with an official manifest of very valuable cargo. If it were ambushed, we'd know the leak was within the official channels, and if not, it'd have to be with the dockworkers themselves. Either way, the individuals on Palino would be identified and could be swiftly rounded up for interrogation. Should this fail, we could do the same with an actual ship, but have it only perform a micro-jump before returning home, having a probe droid actually use the plotted hyperspace route that the ship was meant to take. Either way, it would be quite likely the individuals attacking your ships would take the bait and then reveal themselves, though unfortunately they would also know they had been had regarding the droid. What do you think, Senator?”

After picking up the Jedi, the two men found themselves returning to the starport for another VIP, and once again they were not amused by it. However, the simple landspeeder was replaced by a larger leisure craft large enough to take Wesley and his officers in one shot. After all, the hundreds of crewmen would be a bit much for the palace to receive, though at the very least Senator Tal was to meet with the leaders of the crew. The same grand palace met them as had welcomed the Jedi, but the brief trip gave the Senator and Jevac time to exchange a few ideas.

~

POST MISSING

~

The first to disembark from the ship was Wesley himself, followed by his second in command and two other officers that worked aboard his ship... his senior pilot and the officer in charge of docking bay operations... the group that was commonly called his 'command crew'. The four of them oversaw just about everything that went on on board the ship, and were the only ones actually privy to all of it. Most of the crew knew quite a bit about most of what went on on the ship, but some things were kept from them. The names of some of the people that Wesley dealt with, for example, when the client didn't want to be well-known.

None of them were quite sure what to expect here, on this planet, but the lack of a true welcoming committee was more than made up for by the presence of a luxury speeder, the drivers of which informed him that it was there for the purpose of carrying himself and several of his officers to the Senator's office, where he would meet with the Senator herself and Master Tor. With a glance back to the crewman that had disembarked with him, and knowing that the ship would, for all intents and purposes, run itself with a skeleton crew while they were gone, he nodded to his three companions, motioning for them to join him.

"Everything has been seen to, yes? Leave assignments and work shifts worked out?" His second in command nodded a confirmation, and Wesley nodded approval. "Good. Let's go and meet the Senator, then."

Together they loaded into the speeder, settling into the large back seat while the craft lifted onto repulsorlifts and started off towards their destination, and while Wesley took pains to keep track of which ways they went, which directions and streets they took, the others took the opportunity to check out the amenities provided by the luxury speeder. They were almost like kids... older, well-dressed, well-behaved kids... as they explored the cabin of the speeder, leaning what they could about it.

When they arrived at their destination, Wes reached out and started slapping the backs of hands... figuratively, as he made sure that everyone was presentable. He might not have bothered, though, as his command crew had done this many times before, and were quite used to meeting with important figures. They were all dressed immaculately, looking very much the part of visiting dignitaries, though their clothing was not ostentatious. The clothing of choice when making first contact with a new planetary official was plain, but dressy. The fabrics were costly, the fit achieved through custom-tailoring, but the only gems that were to be found anywhere were on the ring that Wesley wore, the centerpiece of which was a large, brilliant blue stone, the same color as the shirt he was wearing now. The others were all completely lacking such trinkets, wearing nothing that would draw too much attention to them.

Filing out of the speeder one by one, Wesley was the last to straighten and look around, his second in command already conversing with someone nearby. And as Wes approached, the man looked up to him, his second in command looking back and nodding, saying something quickly. Then the man reached out a hand to Wesley, which was taken in a firm, business-like handshake. They were informed that they were now to be lead to where Master Tor and the Senator were waiting for them, and Wes inclined his head in acquiescence.

"Lead the way then, and we shall follow." And when the guide turned to show them the way, they did indeed follow. In a sort of diamond formation, with the pilot and docking master just behind and to either side of Wes, the fourth man following behind as they walked through the halls. They received glances from the occasional person that they passed, but none of them said anything, just offered up smiles, until the door to what looked like a small reception room was pushed open before them, and they were announced to the two people and one droid that were present in the room as they entered, the four of them moving as one.

[Emmaurade]

The Senator did not immediately rejoin the Jedi at the small table in the corner of her office, instead remaining at that desk for a moment longer with her hand working discretely. Another flick of that small keypad at her fingertips saw a discrete message sent to the reception room where Dallia sat quietly at a small desk, sending the girl with those remarkable blue eyes rising and crossing the room and slipping out on silent feet to attend the errand that the command gave without thought or question but obedience. A final stroke of nimble, graceful fingers sent a last message winging to the commlink of the Captain of the base where the dreadnaught would be landing, a dual military and commercial landing site and one of the few large enough to handle a ship of such size as the Gentleman’s Business. Emma could well do without the slim, intense Captain Shorees sending politely worded but outraged none-the-less messages to her office at the unexpected landing.

Paolino was a small, somewhat wealthy, green planet that was on the outer edges of a cluster of green planets. They had known peace for generations and while perfectly capable of mustering a respectable army when called to do so, the Paolinoan’s had instead preferred negotiations to guns, breeding generation after generation of skilled politicians, treaty negotiators, peace speakers and in some rare cases, tactically brilliant minds. It was the combination of that first skill and the last that now gazed at the Jedi with coolly masked, translucent emerald green eyes, her visage a lovely study of political neutrality masking the mind working beneath.

Very convenient, a Jedi appearing on the same day as a captain bearing a stolen cargo; a convenience Emma could not afford to overlook. The raw, glittering blue chunks of crystal carried in specially padded and cushioned crates would pulse and glow faintly with a shimmering inner light that would illuminate with a power that could be harnessed, their natural energy a molecular compound that when active could be manipulated with only some slightly advanced science and technology. Their sale was only to highly specialized and thoroughly screened agencies and laboratory companies throughout the galaxy and from there taken from their raw state and processed into something more usable and recognizable – typically generators that could run city-blocks with minimal effort.

Very, very few knew that the crystals could also be used as synthetic crystals to make the very saber she knew her guest was armed with while in her office. That tiny bit of knowledge made the Paolinian Crystals perhaps a hundred-fold more valuable. It made the treachery of their theft that much worse.

When he asked if it was safe to speak in her office, her eyes raised sharply to him, a brief, quick nod accenting the questioning look etched over her cool features, curious as to what he would say that would be so nefarious as to be considered ‘secret’. She stepped from behind the desk again, the shimmering emerald silk skirts whispering and shifting with a glittering, translucent green hue that rippled in hue and shade as she moved, the slim woman graceful so that the light pouring from the impressive picturesque wall danced over her and cast her in a myriad of light and gem-stone sparkle.

Emma rejoined him at that table while he spoke, her face settled in impassive lines of neutrality, her hand steady as she took the steaming cup of sevalla back up and sipped from it slowly, letting the Jedi speak his mind in simple terms that had the Senator giving a faint, slight nod of approval. It was very similar to what her own Advisors had come up with, and she told him as much.

“We have feared as much, though I do not think this is the work of mere rogue pirates, Jevac. They are… organized. Too is a very strange little… sect… that has taken residence in an ancient and abandoned city, Rovan. During Paolino’s last Civil War – nearly a thousand years ago – Rovan was laid to waste. Now, however, it is being… rebuilt. We have sent liaisons to search out the source and they do return with signs of recent civilization, but they find no one. There have always been… curiosity seekers and antiquities hunters at the ruins, but they say this is different. Buildings rebuilt. Small structures, though.”

There was no casual attitude in the conveying of this information, and a very slight drawing down of the slender brow would tell the man that she was genuinely bothered by this new development in her world when coupled with the seemingly random acts of theft occurring. Emmaurade had hours worth of reports sitting at her disposal, and short of actually going herself – which she had indeed considered – the Senator was as informed as she possibly could be on the situation, and she shared it with him in a murmur over the small white cup, well aware that the small droid was possibly recording all she said.

She knew about how much time they had before Captain Harris and the uppermost of his crew would be shown into her office, her head inclining slightly to Jevac, the stiffly arched headdress framing the vivid, sculpted features shimmering with the play of light over the artfully crafted costume. He offered a plan that would reveal a way to discover what traitor lay in their midst, and she found the idea left her with a faint distaste in her mouth. Still, the young Senator felt a strong instinct tell her it was not merely the work of space pirates. Entire ships would be recovered floating empty, gutted of cargo and crew. Blood would be splashed on walls, but no evidence of battle would be found.

Her gaze was flinty when she set the small cup down on the small table covered with a crisp, clean white clothe draped all the way to the floor.

“Very well. Leave the arrangements of the decoy to me. I would like very much for you, Jevac, to go to Rovan yourself. If these… pirates… are more than pirates, I am certain the answer will be there.”

[jevac]

The Senator's comments were sharp, of course, but he expected that. His sucker-ploy with the probe droids was about as effective a plan as any could be to track down the pirates in space, though they could always fill a freighter with troops. However, the Senator then went on to reveal the real reason for her wanting the aid of a Jedi.

The history of Paolino had not been relatively easy to find; few records remained of everything that had transpired since the Clone Wars, the Civil War, and the Vong Invasion had all but brought the galaxy to its knees. What mattered most was there was no history of any kind of activity here, not in what was left of the once-great repository of knowledge held by the Jedi nor in the galactic records. Of course, that proved nothing. In the years immediately after the Civil War, Jedi had been great heroes, a returning light in the chaos that followed, but soon afterwards, the Senate had split between trust and suspicion. The Jedi themselves knew that much of the galaxy needed them, but they could not be their own witnesses. Having the Vong's depredation blamed on them did not help, even though it was the Jedi who had turned them aside in the end. And now, the once-exalted protectors of the galaxy were on a knife's edge, sanctioned by the government and used, but not trusted. It would be decades, maybe, before they again had the moral credit of a bygone era.

Regardless, those who remembered remembered. The past would not be entirely swept aside even by the last seventy years of unending violence. Now, nothing in the records of Paolino gave him the slightest bit to go on. And it took no special powers at all to know that the Senator was withholding some of her information; she was playing her cards close to her chest, suspicious not only of the Master but also of the convenient return of the cargo at the hands of a rapscallion and rogue. Whether the good Senator needed a scoundrel in her life right now, she had one in the form of Mr. Harris, Master and Commander of his Dreadnought.

But she was hiding a few things from him, as was evident in her manner. Most likely, it was a matter of distrust. Jevac did not need to advertise his disappointment; it would be much easier if she simply spoke openly with him. Yet the man could understand why she was so hesitant to simply say what she knew or felt; here she was receiving some strange mystic out of the blue to 'solve' her problems, and no sooner does he arrive than a Mysterious Stranger arrives hauling a good hunk of her stolen goods like a gift-giver around Yule. The Senator's reluctance was understandable, but then, he had nothing really worth hiding at this time. It was easier to be forthright when there was nothing that merited concealment. Jevac could afford to be entirely open, while if she could not, he had no way of knowing it yet.

“Pirates can get quite organized when there's enough credits, Senator,” he said, but she went on, maybe enjoying to correct him. That was good. He remained seated a while in consideration, knowing full well that she had probably shared this information elsewhere. Jevac's curious birthright of being 'not there' in the Force had been exploited to its fullest. Senator Emmeraude Tal was more or less acknowledging now that they had every reason to believe a dark side cult was involved. The obvious thing to do was find out if this was true or not.

Sitting quietly and still as she drank, Jevac considered possibilities. There were the cults that sprang up from time to time, of course, as well as users of the dark side. The Sith were most famous, but others, like the Nightsisters, still existed. (Though, now, there were few on Dathomir to have survived the Vong.) And then there were others making attempts to do worse things. There were those who would create underpowered weapons like the Tapani nobles. There were the newly-risen Knights of the Empire. And beyond the list of those who would have the most to immediately gain from the use of such things were the laundry-list of scum and pirates of the galaxy. Hutts moving in to muscle their way into a profitable racket. Crime lords. Small, rogue bands of roughs flying whatever ships could be found, using them to conduct piracy operations. The Imperial Knights. There was even the faint possibility that some faction in the GFFA itself was involved, using a cover to execute whatever strange plot they might have that required the crystals from this somewhat idyllic blue-green dot. He certainly would not put it past anyone. Even the Jedi Order had a sliver of suspicion, though that most likely could only come about through the actions of one or two rogues. It was neither a traditionalist nor a radical's interpretation that they should -steal- crystals they were perfectly able to find on their own; such an action was outside the realm of the permissible and into the unthinkable.

“Very well,” he said. “Will there be an expedition sent, or do you need me to go alone?” His unique ability was oft best used as a Trojan horse, letting him be 'swallowed up' into the group without their knowledge they had brought the old warmaster into their midst. Already he knew that he would have to dig through whatever remained of the old records from that era, finding out why the city of Rozan was not restored. It was an age of wonders; his little zabrak had grown up to restore a world with her station, planets could be terraformed into nearly anything. In this age of wonders, it was the lack of rebuilding on a wealthy planet, untouched by seven decades of war, that required an explanation. As of yet, he had not earned from Emmaraude the right to ask for it. He had not yet earned her trust. But there would be other sources of information, old records, perhaps, or even rumors bought at starports with rocks glasses full of juma.

While he waited for an answer, he saw a servant entering the room, waiting to be called forward to deliver her message. No doubt, the good Harris had arrived.

[Emmaurade]

"Will there be an expedition sent, or do you need me to go alone?"

She paused briefly under the scope of that question, giving a soft chime a chance to ring in a low, dulcet melody through the room, indicating to the Senator that their 'guests' had arrived from the landing base to the capitol palace. Time was swiftly slipping through her fingers to make plans with the Jedi err they were interrupted by the business man and she felt the uncertainty of her lack of knowledge. The ornate head-dress dipped slightly to the tall, bald man sitting at her table, as if she were acceding to something unspoken.

"I leave it to you, Jevac, to decide. If you think a full expedition needs be launched, then I will see to it you have what resources you need if you provide me a list."

Dallia looked up as the door slipped quietly open to the spacious reception area where her small, opaque desk sat with her bright, inquisitive eyes able to see everyone who came into the inner chambers, a shimmering dark curtain of hair glossy as it tumbled over her delicately expressive features. A welcoming smile curved her lips as she stood and the escort from the base to where the Senator and the Jedi awaited the captain and his crew abandoned his charges to the girl with the luminescent blue eyes. She moved with a graceful step towards the captain, indicating a door just to her left.

"Captain, Senator Tal is expecting you. This way, if you please."

Her voice was softly modulated as she stepped to the door, and with a opalescent shimmer, the barrier slipped back into the wall, allowing the girl to lead the crew through and into the inner sanctum of the senator.

Brilliant, sharp emerald eyes flickered when the door slipped open and the five entered, the servant pausing a step to the side to allow Captain Harris to continue through. She paid the girl scant attention, her gaze instead skimming the man currently in possession of a shipment of crystals that had the potential to become very, very controversial. Emma did not doubt for a second that her fellow Senators would be very, very interested in crystals that could be used as synthetic crystals for the Jedi's own light-saber. She did not doubt for a second that her people and planet would suffer the consequences from it.

"Captain Harris. Thank you for coming. Please, will you join us? Can I offer you or your crew some refreshment? I assume these to be your senior officers. I am Senator Emmaurade Tal."

Her voice was soft, cool almost, as she stood then, the iridescent green fabric shimmering as she moved, tiny gems and jewels adorning her elaborate gown winking and gleaming as the light caught in the high arch of the headpiece and filtered down over the slim woman. She did not look at Jevac again, but motioned instead to the table where the Jedi sat, glancing past the small group to the girl just behind them, awaiting either dismissal or an order to be fulfilled. Business sat high in her mind, but the ingrained sense of polite offering compelled her to speak softly to the man..

'Where are those crystals and how did you really come by them?' was what the glitter in those shimmering, translucent green eyes said, however, as they studied Captain Harris.

[los]

(Skip a bunch....)


The Senator’s shuttle-craft sat quietly in the hangar attached to the Crystaline Palace with the hatch door open wide and droid’s whirring around silently, refueling and checking gauges and settings, testing panels and instruments in final preparation for the flight it would make a quarter of the way around the small, green planet of Paolino. A small cluster of men garbed in elegant soft blues and aqua-hued silk suits and frothy white shirts crisp and neat stood at the far side, speaking in soft under-tones to one another and shifting almost restlessly from foot to foot, as if awaiting someone before entering the shuttle craft; just behind the Dignitaries, Ministers and Ambassadors was a small group of slender, petite women, all with long, straight silky black hair falling in dark waves to cover the varying shades of blue eyes that were auspiciously downcast. Lingering mingled with the servants were small droids whirring and clicking softly to one another, personal machines of the party assembled who were considered vital enough to be brought to attend the comfort of their ‘masters’.

Side doors behind the group opened silently, though the very faint whisper of watered green silk could just be heard along with the faint melody of slender, delicate chains dangling from a narrow waist and dotted with precious stones that swayed and shimmered with every step the Senator took. Her pale visage was framed by another confection of delicate lace over a high, arching crown sweeping up from her shoulders and studded with tiny gemstones of gleaming perfection, her dark hair swept up in a severe coil at the crown of her head that at once accentuated the slender arch of her throat while hinting at the measure of steel running through the young Senator. The bright shimmer of emerald green eyes seemed to rival the jeweled backdrop of the woman as her long, flowing skirts billowed elegant and in yards of frothy, delicate silk to obscure the slippered feet.

The bright golden wash of the sun orbiting the small planet was just beginning to slant bronze rays through the open mouth of the massive hanger as Emma plunged boldly into the middle of the group assembled, feeling their heads turn to the young woman and looks that were equal parts animosity and openness from the group. The only who would perhaps remain unreadable in expression would be the Jedi master; it would be no less than she expected. It was the nature of politics. The horizon was beginning to fill with other shuttles carrying both residents and visitors to the planet in the same general direction, towards the Greater City of Reqare where the Charging and the Feast of the Charging would take place around the great Crysalis Waterfall in the heart of the city.

”Good evening, gentlemen.” The Senator’s cool voice was slightly elevated to be heard over the filling of the other craft in the hanger, other Palace members and government and cabinet members taking advantage of the rare ‘holiday’. Her bright green eyes flickered to the other craft, then to the sky, as Emma stood before the assembled group that would be part of the Senator’s personal retinue, including Jevac as the ingrained hospitality of the gently-bred native Paolinian woman dictated nothing less would serve for the visiting Jedi Master, and then her welcoming smile curved up winsome lips again and the hostess emerged past the politician. ”My apologies for running late. Shall we?”

Invitation was given to them all with a graceful sweep of her hand towards the craft, the motion setting the faint melody that seemed to eternally accompany the woman into play again as she invited the group to board the shuttle-craft, following only after they had all boarded but before the servants and droids, stepping into the spacious and comfortable interior, past the front where her personal pilots would navigate them through the flight lanes over the planet, and to one of the rear-most seats, slightly to the center of the craft and obviously for the Senator in its velvety green softness and wide, comfortable seat that would accompany the elegant, if volumes, of fabric of her skirt. Only after they were all on board did the door silently swish shut and seal with a faint ‘thunk’ sound while a very soft vibration ran along the floor, marking the powering up of engines powered by the very same crystals that the planet mined and exported.

”Jevac, will you join me, and I will tell you something of the Festival we are going to.” The invitation to the Jedi came with a motion to a chair at the small table to her left, the Senator’s own seat turning slightly to face the small, round table and shifting closer as Dallia, the Senator’s personal servant, came forward noiselessly bearing a tray with a small pot of sevalla, the sweet, hot drink favored on Paolino, and a pair of cups for Emma and her guest. She rather doubted the good Jedi wouldn’t have already looked up the Festival of the Charging when her personal secretary sent his invitation to join the Senator’s party, that he’d already know it was an event that came only once every three years, when the green moon of Norran crested the sky and beamed soft, jade light down on the crystals naturally found in the waterfalls of Paolino, not actually charging them, but called so for the way they glowed with a brilliant beauty under the flowing water, but it would be an easy excuse to have the Jedi nearby in the wake of the most current threat to her life the Senator had received. It seemed the destruction of the droids in the ruined city of Rovan had not been met with faction approval, and Emma was the most public, and visible, target for retribution.




It was not merely his nature but his duty to be apolitical. When everyone else was committed to causes, Jevac was to be sworn to the will of the Force. When everyone else was swept up in the celebrations and traditions and causes of their nations, peoples, and cultures, Jevac was to forget his. This was especially true here on Paolino. A peaceful planet, a pleasant place of mystics and tradition, it was the polar opposite of militaristic, spit-and-polish, gung-ho Anaxes. Jevac was now supposed to accompany Emmaraude to a festival. Much of his time was spent reading over the history of the festival and learning of the culture of the planet, to best act properly and not embarrass Emmaraude while he was there. Yet he was also there to watch, to see those who might be out of sorts there. He was to protect Emmaraude.

Of course, politics required that this was left unsaid. Emmaraude couldn't very well say to her people that the concerns over theft led the Jedi Order her, nor that the Jedi Master was near at hand because there was a danger to them or their leaders. Nor could the State mention the droids which had struck, lest there be a bit of a panic. The oddest thing was that the fear a few pirates could cause was much more damning than anything they might actually achieve. So, Jevac was here as a visitor, his real purpose kept quiet and discreet. This he was quite good at.

When the time came to leave, he met the others early at the shuttle, smiling politely and making small talk on safe topics. Jevac had purposefully kept everything about himself understated, even muted. Emmaraude looked stunning, like a jewel of a woman. Her demeanor was queenly. Her courtiers, too, had dressed in the finest and most elegant clothing they had. The Jedi, however, had only replaced his very functional black robes with a grey-vested black robe. Everything of his was pressed neatly, kept plain and unadorned, and otherwise polished to a high sheen. He had a small insignia of the Alliance on his chest and kept his glowing swords well hidden. Indeed, many of the staff hadn't known Emmaraude and the Council had begun to work together, and many took the bald master as a diplomat or other servant of the Alliance rather than a member of the Order.

He did smile, sincerely, when Emmaraude spoke.

Some part of Jevac wanted to kick the droid from the pilot's seat and do the job himself. Having forced himself to learn to fly, he now did it as often as he could. But he took a seat on the shuttle and wound up seated just to the Senator's side. “Of course, Senator,” he said as he took his seat. Collectively, the group waited for Emmaraude to take her seat before they took theirs, Jevac included. Even without the more pressing business – if his time -had- been free – he would have chosen to go to the Feast of Charging. This was a sight not to miss. There was no other planet known which boasted such crystals; even those of Illum and Korriban and Dantooine were small, suitable for laser swords but unlike those of Paolino. When something like this display was on, there was no reason to miss it. And there would also be hordes of tourists and travelers there, making it quite easy to blend in. In the press of the crowd, even very skilled security could easily miss someone with ill intent and a rifle.

Servants circled the small shuttle with little white trays, delicate and fragile, holding pots of sevalla as well as some other beverages – nectars and wines and stronger ales for those who choose to imbibe. Dallia had already completed two perfect pours into the cups set aside for the Senator and her guest and had taken a step back to just behind the pair seated where Emma could watch over the hold of the ship and her guests speaking amicably to one another, arguments politely made as even the lightly festive atmosphere of the group couldn’t halt the eternal grinding of the machine known as politics. The smooth transition from ground to sky barely created a ripple among the conversation and even less so as the thruster’s engaged and merged the small passenger carrier along with its escort of small, one-manned ships piloted by droids and carrying personal guards of the Palace smoothly into the flight lanes.

Delicate fingers lightly clutched the porcelain cup, so sheer and fragile that the dark liquid it carried cast a lurid shadow in the chalice of the cup while a wafting wisp of steam curled warm and fragrant in the nostrils, tempting one to savor the mellow, sweet flavor. To all outward appearances, the Senator was icy calm, festive even, as her eyes shimmered as brilliantly as the jewels on studding the rich emerald costume of the woman, but a very, very tiny measure of gratitude for the Jedi flashed in those same jewel-hued eyes when Jevac joined Emmaurade at the table, her steady hand gesturing to the cup steaming before him. ”Refreshments, Jevac?” The ears that strained to the Senator and her strange companion strained for a measure of identity to the man who could have easily been a visiting dignitary as an estranged family member of the Senator, Emma giving them little to no hint as to the man’s identity other than the singular name uttered with a soft familiarity.

A sip was taken from the cup after it was deemed cool enough, and she delicately cleared her throat from the warm after-taste, then set it aside and carefully smoothed her skirts, arranging the charming array of delicate, slender golden and silver chains twined and dangling from her slim hips like coiled, metallic serpents in her lap. When a pause had passed – enough for him to drink or not, really, she looked at him again with that same slight, open smile threatening to curve winsome lips. ”The Waterfalls of Paolino, as you no doubt know, are… imbued with millions of crystals, no larger than both fists doubled together. Over the planet’s long, long history, they have created formations of sentient crystals fused together and shaped by the running waters, forming great boulders as well as chasms and channels that the water runs around and over.” Simple, basic science was given in that soft, husky voice, facts that could not be disputed or denied and would already be known by the Jedi. Her bright eyes glanced to one of the reinforced windows along the side of the shuttle to see the other crafts and ships winging quietly through the sky, reminding her that the Festival would be crowded, the event something rare and spectacular enough to draw quite the crowd.

A crowd which an assassin could easily slip into while the planet’s ruling Senator mingled through the shops and tents set up at a nearby festival grounds, her own pavilion open and in plain sight at the forefront of the row of pavilions that would be lined up near the Waterfall and with the best view of the gleaming rocks, decided upon by her own personal geologists and astronomers working together. She would be an easy target for a patient marksman. Yes, the Jedi Master’s presence made her feel better, if only slightly, than the defensive escort of guard shadowing the ship. His presence was just the wild card against assassination attempts that the young, tactical-minded Senator had wished to achieve.

”Once every three years, the Green Moon, Norran, comes into orbit and sways the tides just enough to allow the crystals to reflect its light brighter than the Gray Moon, Drovvan. It is called the Charging of the Crystals. In pagan times, it was believed that was what gave them their glow for the rest of the years, though, we know otherwise now.” With a charming smile and a slight, dismissing wave of her hand, the delicate beauty waved off the worries of the politicians that she was considering the blasphemy of the Orbital Religion that still existed in some of the more distant and elder portions of the land and completely opposite to the ruling opinion of the ‘modern’ men of Paolino. As the sun set low over the horizon, it bathed the interior of the shuttle-craft with a warm, golden light that the woman glittered in against the stark backdrop of her companion, like a jewel in a smoky setting.

”Tonight, there will be a Feast laid out for us in the City’s Main Hall, everyone will be invited to come and partake. There will be crafter’s there and merchants, truly a fare of spectacular proportions. When Norran crest’s the sky, we will move to the pavilions where you will have a better view. Have you ever had a chance to see the Charging, Jevac?”



Dallia proved to be as much a master of her trade as Emmaraude and Jevac were of theirs. She could easily serve in the palace of any royalty in the galaxy. Emmaraude was perhaps a bit on edge. Jevac was frosty, sharp, and alert, though his demeanor was instead one of someone completely at peace with who he was and where he was. This was so even when he wasn't fitting in, his own sober clothing and attitude much more muted than the color and pageantry of the rest. He was happy to let the Senator speak, even as she did only tell him what he already knew. Jevac took one cup from Dallia as a courtesy and nursed it while the others drank. Some, apparently, had -not- realized they were in tighter security and looked ready for a carefree festival.

Perhaps it was for the best. Intimidation was a good thing, at least as far as the pirates were concerned, and his very public (and understated) appearance next to Emmaraude would hopefully keep them from trying anything. The appearance of business as normal was important. Emmaraude did not explain who he was to her staff. Jevac was...no one, it seemed. The only clue, which was that Alliance symbol, meant very little. Paolino -was- part of the Alliance, even if it was mostly left alone and untouched. He needed a story, it seemed, since natural conversation would have details regarding his identity. A description, a name, and a home planet would be more than enough on a holonet search to bring up the name Tor and his connection to the Order.

“Of course, thank you,” he said. Jevac decided to keep his story simple; a distant relation on Coruscant who had gone into business would be simple enough. His accent was right for the role; most of the Core spoke in a similar enough manner. When Dallia served him, he offered her a genuine smile and took a thoughtful sip, letting it rest on his palate. He said, “This is delicious,” looking first to the servant and then the Senator. He did not belittle the girl simply because she was the help. He listened to Emmaraude's exposition with a small grin, and when she asked him about having been to the Charging before, he shook his head and said, “No. I look forward to the trip.”

“Of course, Senator, no one has explained -what- causes the crystals to be sentient in the first place,” said Minister Doran. He was a youngish man himself, though a decade older than Emmaraude. He thoughtfully stroked his brown beard and went on to add, “And what about you, Jevac? Are you a religious man yourself?” he asked. It seemed an innocent enough question, but there was a slight undercurrent to it and a flash of some kind of...recognition. Something. The Minister was fishing, alright.

The Jedi flashed a bit of a grin and said, “I've traveled enough to know polite company argues sports, not religion.” This was met with a bit of a chuckle from a few who were listening in, who considered it a mild rebuke. Doran responded, “Well, how about a story then? Something about the galaxy. Exotic ports of call, stories from Coruscant. Or even alien worlds, like Iridonia, or Kashyyyk?” he asked. This seemed like a capital idea to some, whereas more jaded spacers might be a little less concerned. Jevac got the point immediately. Doran -knew-; he had to. Iridonia and Kashyyyk, out of a whole -galaxy-, could not have been chosen at random.

Jevac did a good job of not reacting, however. He said, “A story, then?” He had to think quickly; too many were too revealing. He began soon after, saying, “I once took a short business trip to Ryl, the twi'lek homeworld. Their, the planet is tidally locked to its star; its face always faces the sun. So on one side, the world is hotter than boiling water, and upon the other it is frozen. The entire world survives as a band of life in the twilight zone between the two, always bathed in a low light and a stiff wind from the night side to the day side.” He took a sip of his drink. Ryl was much less of a pleasurable place to be than those who lusted for green alien women would imagine. Hutt slavers, illegal traders, and worse were as big as the legitimate economy, and the twi'lek thought little of selling their own. We were working with the Galactic Sapient's Council, looking into the trade there. After business, our hosts were kind enough to take us down to the new year's celebration. There, the twi'leks would celebrate with dance. Twenty thousand trained dancers upon the surface, all choreographed into a brilliant display, performing an old rite welcoming in their new year. They formed and flowed into the ten constellations which marked their new years, using the color of their skin to show the colors of the stars which mark up their old months. When they finish, they retreat back to their underground cities and off the harsh surface of Ryl. It's impressive how with so little they make up for the lack of material with effort, numbers, and their training.”

The Senator did not flinch under the soft undercurrent of challenge in Minister Doran’s tone when his interruption came, instead having already expected that he had been listening and making a mental note of the struggling gleam in his eye. Was that ambition Emma recognized? It would bear looking into. In the meantime, she let him continue uninterrupted, sitting like a cool, bejeweled statue still and elegant in her chair. His call to regale the listening audience with a story from Jevac’s past would be nothing out of the ordinary, the slender woman knowing that many were curious of the stranger and to not allow him to answer would rouse more suspicion than answers. Instead, Emmaraude continued her silence and trusted in Jevac’s discretion in answering.

It was a traditional way to pass the time on the small planet, telling stories, one leading to another, members of the Senator’s envoy turning to one another in quiet murmurs about times when other dances were seen, or underground societies, or some other tidbit that they could glean off the conversation while others eyed the Senator and her guest and speculated on the validity of his tale. Another warm sip of the sevalla saw Emma gazing quietly at the Jedi over her cup and a faint, appreciative smile teasing the corners of her lips as the emerald eyes sparkled behind the long lashes. ”Ryl, hm?” she managed to murmur before a very soft, low chime echoed very softly in an unobtrusive melody to mark the easing of the shuttle craft into a descent into the Greater City of Reqare. The delicate white cup was set on the small saucer again as Dallia eased forward to sweep the dishes away without a clatter to be heard, waiting a patient step beside the table for Jevac’s cup and saucer before removing them both silently to be cleaned and stowed away again.

”This is a very large Festival, Jevac. Pray you stay close by, or run the risk of being lost.” She said softly to the man as the shuttle landed without a bump and locked down into place on the large pad just outside the City. Others of her retinue began to rise as well, following her example as the Senator stood from the chair and looked over those in her party with bright eyes that did not betray the unspoken words to the Jedi Master. It was hardly the threat of the man being lost that she voiced in that warning, but rather the threat issued against her own life, and a large Festival packed with both natives and visitors to the planet would well hide any would-be assassins.

Leading the group from the Senator’s private shuttle-craft into the softly glowing hanger, another private ground transportation craft waited quietly nearby, this one able to maneuver quietly through the traffic to the Main City Hall where the Feast would be spread. Shops would be open, revelers would be coming and going, wine houses would boast steady traffic and the planet would know a festive atmosphere for the rest of the night. Emma gleamed like a pale green jewel set among the glittering Court of Ministers and Dignitaries, even the somber Jedi, and lead them quickly to the ground shuttle. Most remained with the small party, though she noticed Minster Tandino peel off from the rest, and wondered silently where he was going to when the doors slid shut and the craft quietly left the open pad.

When next the doors opened, a bright shimmer of pale blue and soft green light prismed and refracted into the opening to lay like a shimmering carpet over the ground, the huge structure of the Main City Hall glittering of crystals that seemed to shimmer and ripple in the flickering light of the lowering sun. People were coming and going from the doors thrown open wide, laughing and talking with one another, smiling and walking down crowded streets to where the huge waterfall in the middle of the city gleamed and sparkled with a never-ending brilliance. Stepping from the small craft, Emma lead the group to the steps of the Main Hall and there paused before with a soft whisper of pale green silk skirts and a faint metallic melody of the slender, ethereal chains wrapped and dangling from her slender waist, the statuesque Senator entered the Main Hall where many of the revelers lingered amid quietly moving servants and the quiet sounds of music from a hidden band played.

”Welcome to the Festival of the Charging, Jevac.” Emmaraude finally said softly to the man she knew to be close at her side, her bright eyes sweeping the room and pausing briefly on recognized members of the Parliament and Eldest Families of Paolino as well as guests and visitors alike before leading the small entourage boldly into the main room.



His was to not react, remain alert, and not to draw attention to himself. Since they were telling stories, however, he got to spin a few from places across the galaxy as well. Any questions – of a personal kind, anyway – he deflected with a simple denial and a little emotional push into suddenly finding Jevac uninteresting enough to bother about. A more powerful use he might have drawn attention to himself with, but no one thought twice about suddenly finding Emmaraude or one of her advisors suddenly much more intriguing than their quiet visitor with his odd stories. He had a single glass of sevalla. For a little while, they were telling stories, and since truth was always much easier to remember, he told true stories. Of course, he selected them very carefully, but they were stories from across the galaxy. Kuat, Corellia, Coruscant. He was very careful not to mention Iridonia or Kashyyyk, and when asked what he was doing there, he usually just mentioned something noncommittal like a vacation or work.

Their descent was a familiar sensation, and he paid it no real mind. Jevac's task was to be omnipresent, polite, and forgettable. There was something beautiful in the city. Not only were the crystals stunning, but the people were of light heart and cheerful mood and that gave the city a serenity of its own. These hundreds of thousands of lives, each a little whisper, were at the moment sounding a more harmonious note. He walked at the Senator's side, but a few steps behind her. Holocams and the like would be omnipresent, many floating on droids programmed to get good shots that a reporter could comment on. Others were hand-held, or mounted on droids rolling around the crowd. Jevac knew it was extremely likely he'd be identified soon; there was little to be done about that. However, that also meant there would be a good chance of having some glimpse of an attack, assuming they kept Emmaraude safe if there was one.

The funny thing is suddenly secrecy was moot the second anything did happen; the cameras would identify him soon afterward anyway. But -that- was based on the assumption that there was something coming and it couldn't be stopped quietly before it happened. Emmaraude's security was tight, but the man in black next to her was the last line.

He'd spent quite a while studying the dossiers of the individuals in high positions, but all states were too big to know every minister. Much of the flight, he tried keeping tabs on who was who. When the Minister...what was his name...? slipped away from the group, he took a few steps to the side as well. Speaking very quietly to the hidden commlink on his collar, he said, “Captain, you've picked up the Minister?”

“Yes, Master Jedi,” said the officer watching the government-controlled floating cameras. “Already tailing him.”

“Let me know if anyone else peels away from the group,” he said. Nothing happened as they approached the steps to the Main Hall and entered the room, surrounded by the patricians of Paolino. Quiet, alert, feigning fascination in the people around him as a pretext to keep sharp watch, he still managed a smile as she led into the room. “Thank you, Senator.” Following Emmaraude, he had a fleeting thought that they were walking into the lion's den.




The lion’s den. If Emmaurade had known the Jedi Master’s thoughts, she might have laughed at how very accurate he was, for while it is true, it was a Festival, in every sense of the word, it was also a chance for trade contracts to be made, commerce to flourish, politics to be performed. Deals would be made, betrothals would be settled upon and acquaintances would be renewed. Relaxed, yet watchful, the room buzzed very quietly when the Senator and her entourage made their entrance and for a moment, the business of being a planet paused while Emma and the rest of her party entered the room.

Servants circled the room on bare feet and with long, glossy black hair on both males and females with slender, lithe bodies and skin varying from flawless ivory to a warm nut brown hue, each carrying small trays holding cups of sevalla as well as a tremendous assortments of beverages and delicacies for the attendees who had decked in their finery and come to mingle with the rest of the people, young and old, wealthy and impoverished. Some would skip the Main Hall and the feast laid out there in favor of the smaller bars and restaurants and wine-houses that would spread out a lesser but no less festive meal for the people crowded into the Greater City for this one night. It seemed as if everywhere there were people, human and not, who had come for the rare occasion, whether they lived on Paolino or not. Other of the Crystal Waterfalls would experience such a phenomenon, but nothing on such a grand and magnificent scale as would appear in Reqare, and combined with its once every three year appearance, it was enough to be a rare occasion indeed.

And one that Emma intended to exploit.

By throwing open the doors to her planet for any to arrive, she invited a host of others with agendas of their own into her home, like a nest of desert vipers into the lush paradise of the jewel-toned tropics, and then strode into their nest with a mongoose at her side. She made no mistake in precisely what Jevac was. The Senator had not achieved her position at such a young age and maintained it for so long against those who would see her fall because she was attractive. Nothing so intense as the Force, though, Emmaurade still had a strong instinct and a cunning mind that she used frequently behind the guise of bright, flashing emerald eyes. While many of her Cabinet had protested the ‘interference’ of the Jedi in planetary business, she had managed to persuade enough to see her cause and champion it enough to finally get the majority to agree, and now, some of those very members who had argued so fiercely against his appearance now proffered jovial smiles to the man as Emma merged into the room with Jevac and the rest of her retinue with her, like a sun with dozens of hovering planets orbiting around her.

Dovan Mo’ was the first to intercept the Senator as she began a graceful arc around the room, her destination one that would eventually come to the deep emerald green chaise and cluster of chairs tucked in a back corner and cordoned off to prevent occupancy and with a pair of armed and uniformed guards standing at crisp attention behind the small seating arrangement for the Senator and her group. Designed so that Emma could not only entertain her fellow politicians and Ministers but so the Senator could be seen and see over the room, the small area fully consumed the corner with little tables where food would be sampled and small couches lining the wall behind them.

”Senator Tal.” The patriarch of the oldest family on Paolino could not help but sneer a faint bit at the wisp of a woman who paused before him, a graceful smile that did not quite reach her bright jade eyes for the man as he stood with quiet hatred for the woman in his eyes, as if ready to challenge her for some outrageous act but unable to decide which to lay his finger upon first. She was hardly of a mind to wait for him to find one and indulge in yet another temperamental tirade about the benefits of some outrageous thing or the other that he would pointedly oppose Emma on, because he could not come out and say she had no right being the Planetary Senator because she was a woman, young, and not of the Mo’ line.

”Happy Charging, Sire Mo’.” The appellation was in recognition to his patriarchal status to his family and offered in a neutral voice that left no room for the man to find offense nor charge her with some grievous insult to his name or honor and he was left still with brows lowered as if looking for somewhere to charge as the slender woman slipped past him without another word, the glittering, jewel-hued sun again in motion and the retinue of planets beginning their revolution around her orbit.

From the corners of her eyes, she quietly assessed Jevac’s reaction to the exchange. She suspected he would have done his homework on the Major Houses of Paolino, a complex society and hierarchy in and of itself, and he would know that Sire Dovan Mo’ would be able to trace his line back flawlessly some twenty generations, to some of the first settlers to Paolino, and would be perhaps one of the wealthiest men on the planet itself. His latest campaign was to increase the polygamy laws of the planet from two to four spouses, which was, naturally, opposite her own position on the case.

”Senator. Happy Charging. May I offer you your first glass of Thine?” Bennjamon Phylis paused the small party again, this time a handsome smile on an open face for the woman as he held two glasses filled with a sweet, emerald colored wine in his hands, Thine, the ancient and traditional drink of the Festival of the Charging, his bright blue eyes marking his home near the Waterfalls, eldest son of the Mayor of Reqare and groomed to ascend to his father’s office on his death. He had once asked her to become his second wife.

”Happy Charging, Bennjamon.” The greeting was softly murmured as the clear glass cup was taken, though left untasted as the bright sparkle and shimmer of hundreds of jewels adorning the headpiece of the Senator twinkled and gleamed when she turned her head slightly, making a show of looking over the room with a quickly skimming gaze. ”I do not see your father in attendance tonight. Will he be joining us?” Politely, just as she had declined his offer of marriage, Emma turned the man’s attention from her to the crowd as he followed her lead in looking over the room. ”He was not feeling well earlier and said he might not be able to make it tonight and asked I extend his apologies if he was not here when you arrived.” His eyes seemed to find Jevac with a forced casualty and he faced the Jedi squarely. ”Happy Changing, sir. I am Bennjamon Phylis, son of Sire Whon Phylis.” His polite greeting came with a slight lowering of his torso at the waist in a shallow bow to Jevac while his questioning glance shot pointedly to Emma.

Before the Jedi could speak, she made the introductions. ”Bennjamon, this is Jevac, my guest for the Festival.” and hoped silently that perhaps that would be that. But no, the man sized him up with a disarmingly charming smile, the smooth practice of a politician’s son emerging in the act, and arched a slight brow at her pointed lack of last name, though did not comment on it as she had obviously excluded it for a reason and the generations of manners bred into the Paolinoians strictly prohibited Bennjamon from asking what she knew he yearned to… Jevac Who?, and instead he asked what Emmaurade suspected the Jedi would grow tired of answering before the night was finished. ”Is this your first time to witness the Charging?”


There was a romantic image in the heads of many dreamers that soldiers were soldiers and politicians were politicians. That the grunts could be trusted to be straight shooters while the snakes could weasel word their way through Basic until black was called white and war was called peace. Jevac knew -that- was a lie. An Anaxsi before he was a Jedi, he'd been born to the dizzying world of the source for the Imperial Officer Core.

Noble families, spreading slander with smiles, buying special positions for favored sons, trading favors for acceptance to the ever-so-slightly-more academy. The only real difference between the Paolinoan form of aristocratic henpecked social order and its counterpart on Anaxes was at least the Anaxsi simplified the process with ranks. Here, everyone was 'Minister So-and-So,' and no one knew whose post was greater. Everyone -assumed- theirs was absolutely essential, of course.

Really, just like any organization. Even the Jedi weren't immune, though small numbers and unified principles cut it down.

So if Emma was the star in the room and her retinue her comets and satellites, he would try to be an obscure one. Some eyes went his ways, some with knowing smiles and many, many more with questioning ones. After all, who -was- he to have so -favored- a position at this moment? Nobodies didn't orbit Emmaraude, but very few had the slightest idea who the man in black was. Of course, the common people didn't care too much since they were too busy enjoying themselves and admiring the beauty of the ceremony and their companions.

Jevac thought they were much wiser than the nobles.

Most of the faces were hard to match with the information he had had, but Mo' he knew by face immediately. The man's positions on polygamy were utterly irrelevant to the Jedi – at least on a purely theoretical ground. The Jedi were not supposed to pass a judgment there, and in dozens of systems polygamy was the norm. Even communal, especially amongst less human-like species. (He did not care to know how Geonosians handled this at all.) It wasn't -his- culture's way, but that counted for little to nothing. Mo', however, did not concede in his heart that Emmaraude was the lawful head of state. His expression was polite, but still had the look of a logger eying a tree he wouldn't mind felling. And when his eyes fell on Jevac, he was immediately trying to figure out what the other man -was- to Emmaraude. All Jevac did was smile politely. Mo' was obviously ambitious, but somehow it didn't seem like his sort of plan to murder the Senator in an attempt to increase his power. It didn't match what he knew of the man. That was not enough of a reason to fail in his vigilance. Mo' was one of a half dozen or so real contenders amongst the noble families, and there was far more to be lost being caught in this kind of scheme than gained by trying it. A man with his eyes on the bottom line would likely remember that.

Now, the irony was he never said a word to Mo', nor really had a chance to say anything to Benjamon. The man's interest in Jevac was different in kind. Mo' was looking for an asset; Benjamon was seeing a rival. He wasn't hiding it, either; the man might as well have been a prizefighter about to touch gloves for all his subtlety. The name didn't ring a bell until he heard the surname Phylis, and -that- made his brows raise a bit. That family had also been amongst the first but a generation behind the true 'founders.' The Phylis family had -bought- their way out of the nobility and into the true patrician class; having a large percentage of the trade ships in their fleet tended to do that. They were also a family in slow decline after Emmaraude's changes. It seemed private traders could fill in little niches and eat away at the Phylis' once-dominant position, especially since ships flying Alliance flags faced far fewer restrictions.

He offered the young patrician a patient smile and said in a neutral tone, “Yes. I've heard its quite lovely. You're very fortunate to live here right in the shadow of such an event, so to speak. Would you care to recommend some places to visit while we're here?” He hoped the youth would talk about himself, or at least take some time so he could scan the crowd a bit more. No one of their polite visitors knew of the danger, unless it was just those who hoped to have the Senator taken themselves.

[FireAngel]

On the surface, it was all so polite and benign, like crystal blue waters still and lazy, and giving no evidence of the malice that swam below the surface, sharks prowling deep waters silently, waiting for a drop of blood, evidence of a wound, to give away the scent of weaker prey. In the vast room where the rich and poor mingled alike, the harmless were quickly dismissed in favor of those with something to offer, and those with something to take were zeroed in on. The Senator was well accustomed to this behavior, her bright eyes hiding the way targets were marked like a weapon sighting for attack while a calm mask hid the woman’s actions. Even the Mayor’s son was one of those predatory breed of politician, smooth and taciturn, his benevolent charm well in place for the Jedi in the Senator’s company.

And the Senator had to admit silently that thus far, she was impressed with the Jedi’s behavior while traversing these murky waters at her side, the halls of Politics not limited simply to the Palace where the planetary government was run. No, it was everywhere, masked under a polite façade of old-world traditions and manners, stiff and formal, deals being made for policies that would benefit one’s agenda. And thus far, Jevac had managed to neatly avoid stepping into those agenda’s while managing to remain inoffensive, thus yielding more frustration than satisfaction at his presence. Those of her Counsel who knew why the Jedi was on Paolino were sworn to hold their tongues on the matter at the threat of banishment from her Court, a heinous act, unforgiveable to the socially-motivated natives of the planet.

”You have certainly started aright to be here for the Charging.” Bennjamon gave another charming grin, then turned to include the Senator in that expression, waving one of the quiet, slender serving girl’s over with a tray of Thine and offering one to the Jedi, waiting until he took one of the small glasses before moving swiftly to the group behind the Senator on bared, silent feet. ”And in assuredly the best company on Paolino.” The small glass of emerald green Thine was lift to the woman who simply smiled at the little toast before mimicking the man and taking the smallest of sips from the small, clear claret glass. Emma shot Jevac a quick glance to see how the flavor of the mildly sweet wine would taste to him, the faint burn of alcohol lingering on the back of the tongue.

”But, the largest Library on the Planet is housed here, and there are some magnificent Cathedrals in the Stone District. Also, there will be a playhouse resurrecting some old manuscript readings next week, if you will be here that long…” There was just enough of a lifting to that last part to make it a politely couched question, something she caught quite clearly and was confident the Jedi would as well. Bennjamon was next in line for the City Mayor’s position, and he pointed out some of the Greater City’s ‘tourist attractions’ with the same polished smoothness that came only from repetition.




Murky political waters were nothing new. Somehow, they reminded Jevac of crawdads; when put in a bucket, they wouldn't cooperate to get out, but those which did manage to reach the top would be pulled back by their brethren so none would escape. Of course, Jevac was in the position to completely ignore it. He had a luxury few had. Expected to be apolitical and neutral, he could afford to be exactly that. Of course, Jevac was wise enough to know it. Not everyone could afford to stand aloof.

So Bennjamon went on about the city, and Jevac politely smiled while taking the cup. He sipped it, but nursed the drink so that he wouldn't have to take another. The finish was excellent, but that was no reason to rush through the glass. “I know,” he said when Bennjamon spoke about the company. “Quite charming company for a visitor to the planet, I have to say. Everyone has been so very kind.” He glanced up momentarily when he saw a familiar face moving through the crowd in the distance. For a second, he had to conceal his mouth to avoid singling out the youth, then he turned back to the conversation.

Bennjamon was fishing. Jevac said quietly, “That's wonderful. I like the theater. I don't know if I will be able to attend, however.” He was sincere about that, after all. Jevac's idea of fun was a strange one; he was drawn both to culture and to reckless activities. Knowing nothing about Paolinoan theater, he couldn't fake it well enough to have a conversation, so instead the Jedi decided to give Bennjamon time to talk. “Why don't you tell me about a few of the works they're planning, if you have the time?”

By now, his student had managed to come forward enough so that she could make herself known to Emmaraude. Veyna reached out, subtly, in the Force. She just whispered something into it, briefly singling herself out for Emmaraude to recognize her. Jevac's amusement would be rather obvious. Having told the girl to dress native, Jevac had forgotten how far she might go. Veyna was a young, pretty thing with black hair, not yet quite an adult. She had waist length straight hair and a rather cherubic face, but her hair was currently pulled up to make her look eight inches taller and curled in a rather theatrical way. She had found a native sun hat and decorated it with flowers until it looked a little heavy, then found sequined dress which was also woven through with flowers. The effect was that of a young Paolinoan lady of some means who simply was frilly and syrupy-sweet, complete with her holocamera to take pictures of the royal progression and her star-struck awe. The security team had found it impossible to take her seriously, but had simply followed orders and cut her into the comms as well as let her pass. The irony was Jevac and Veyna were counting on Veyna being dismissed, though of course the girl -liked- her dress and hair at the moment. After shooting a few pictures and making sure Emmaraude could identify her, she was turning to make her exit.

So that was Jevac's plan. Jevac could be obvious; his little girl was the last thing anyone would expect to be on the government's secret agenda. Being so evasive made him an obvious target. Veyna was...too inoffensive, too -adorable-, to be a threat. Unfortunately, things went wrong.

Bennjamon was about to be joined by a youth entering adulthood, but en route he caught onto the sweet little thing so awed by the great Senator. So slipping behind her, he said rather simply, “Hello there.”

Veyna managed a bit of a shy grin; young Beninan was as charming and handsome as his brother. The two exchanged pleasantries and Veyna felt a familiar awkwardness, but still was eager to get back to her duties. She tried to beg off her would be suitor, but of course Bennjamon was quick to pick off his brother and called him. “Benanin! There you are. Come, come quickly. It's been some time.” Beninan gave his brother a look known to all men – a look that meant only 'Bro you are so cockblocking.' Bennjamon added, “Oh, bring your pretty young friend, too.”

Beninan turned to Veyna and said, “My apologies, miss Veyna. However, you'll have the chance to meet the Senator herself now.” He led her reluctantly by the arm up to the others and said, “Miss Veyna, this is my brother, Bennjamon, our next Mayor. And I trust the Senator needs no introduction.”

Veyna tried her best to do a nervous nobody's courtesy before the others. And she hoped no one would catch the glance she and Master Tor shared. “An honor, sir. Senator.” She was able to play the nervous girl well because she -was- nervous. This wasn't part of Master Tor's plan, and now she wasn't sure where she was supposed to be. No time in the infirmaries or hospitals had ever readied her for swimming with the political sharks.



When Jevac had first informed her that he had another Jedi, a younger student to the Master, who would be implanted at the ceremonies, Emmaurade had thought he meant one older than the sweet, young thing whose presence pricked at her consciousness in an unmistakable tug, swift, sure knowledge that the girl in the outrageous hat and loudly sequined dress was the one he meant when telling her in private council. As accustomed to the images taken of the Senator as the political maneuverings, she paid scant enough regard to the girl with the recording device as she did any other photographer, which is to say none at all so as to not give away the recognition to the tell. The slender woman gleamed like a rare jewel amid the cluster of men, making her identity unmistakable, yet just as the girl was about to slip off into obscurity among the crowds, Emma caught the interception of a familiar, younger figure.

Everyone there had an agenda. Even the Senator. And the girl being drawn into her cluster was not on the agenda, nor did she think it was on Jevac’s as the nervous child was drawn closer by her would-be suitor, the youngest of the Phylis family. When forced to acknowledge the girl’s presence, Emma did so with a polite civility, noting how Bennjamon sized her up with a flicker of a predatory gleam, and then dismissed her as something quite common and non-threatening to his aspirations while his younger brother seemed taken with the pretty young thing. ”Happy Charging, miss Veyna.” The traditional greeting rolled from the lush lips with a softly voiced eloquence, a phrase that would be uttered many more times before the night was through.

All around them, the Senator became increasingly aware of the eyes that were drifting around the room and finding the cluster accosted by the pair from the Phylis clan and held arrested in the midst of the floor. They still had a great distance to traverse before reaching the safety of that cordoned off corner protected by armed guards, and until reaching that location Emmaurade would be quite vulnerable to approach from any in the hall. It was a gamble, and a risky one that might perhaps draw out some sign of her attacker, though the Senator didn’t hold out much hope that her would-be assassin would be so foolish. The Thine was clutched lightly in her hand as she glanced past Bennjamon and Beninan.

”Gentlemen…” The polite but firm hostess emerged again in the slender politician. ”Would you care to join us?” Already there were a few of the greater nobles of the planet lingering around those exclusive tables, holding the much-coveted golden engraved invitations from the Senator’s private office that allowed them into the cordoned off area that the woman would entertain her guests in. Her dancing emerald eyes followed the bright swirl of colors around the room again, then moved pointedly back to the heir apparent to the seat of Mayor. The unspoken that the invitation was not extended to the girl was no less than would have been expected from the snobbish politicians and other aristocratic blue-bloods of Paolino would consider due given her lack in their eyes. ”I see Ambassador Zidan has arrived and I would go greet him.”

The Ambassador came with powerful trade contracts on Thyferra that Emma knew would boost their economy drastically. The Ambassador wanted cheap energy – in the form of the Paolinoan crystals that the planet harvested en masse from the very waterfalls like the one at the heart of the Greater City. They were just entering the delicate and careful initial stages of negotiation, and the Senator did not intend to see them ruined because of the simpering aspirations of the Phylis family. Soft green hued skirts swirled like an iridescent dream as she began to move over the massive common room of the Main City Hall building, the bright glitter of hundreds of jewels adorning her costume winking to mark her like a gleaming work of art, from the high, sweeping arch of her head-dress framing the dark, perfectly coifed locks gleaming a dark, lustrous hue to the wide, full skirts of her gown, brushing the lace-edged hem along the floor as she again led her small entourage, this time with two more, over the vast, main hall.

Reluctantly but bound to his duty, Beninan left Veyna behind after receiving a stern look from his older brother before that one rushed to catch up with Emma and the Jedi, his long legs catching her easily and insulating himself just behind but close to the slender woman walking with a proud, upright carriage. ”Ah, well, if you do happen to be in town long enough, Jevac, I recommend catching a performance. The Crystal Theater Troupe does some remarkable readings of the old manuscripts of old Paolinoian legends and stories.” Though Bennjamon walked close to the Senator, his words were across the woman for the man on her other side, then his eyes cut a rakish gleam at the lovely woman as his smile broadened. ”Emma and I have seen several of their performances, haven’t we?”

She did not miss the implied coziness of the pairing and grimaced inside at the ambiguity of the man, though nothing less than a smile curled the lips as she dipped her head to the patriarch of another first family without stopping. ”Reqare has some of the finest theaters, Bennjamon. I should think it no surprise to Jevac, nor anyone else, that I maintain a box during the season.” She dismissed the implied intimacy of the two with a soft laugh to accompany the gentle chiding that the man could not dispute. A wide path was cut through the revelers as she finally led them to the small, roped off section of the Main Hall and swept her way in without offering another thought to the comment, instead readying a welcoming smile for the small cluster who turned to face their arriving hostess.




Emmaraude effortlessly left Veyna out of their little clique, and the girl was secretly relieved if only because now she could go back to doing what she knew. Emmaraude now knew who she was, and this handsome if insistent young man was out of her hair. She slipped back into the crowd, very happy to go back to secretly guarding a Senator rather than having to deal with boys.

Jevac accompanied the Senator's slow progress out of the main hall as they went off to deal with trade agreements. Veyna had slipped under everyone's notice, and if anyone did recognize her they'd only think her a star-struck little daisy. No doubt Bennjamon thought her little more than a passing thing for his brother, and Beninan just some local girl who would likely drop her dress as soon as she found out who his family was.

Trade agreements weren't part of his business, but Jevac did pay some mind, since there was still a motive to be found. He followed Emmaraude politely. Once again, the contrast was pretty obvious between Emmaraude's finery and Jevac's plainness couldn't be sharper. With everyone around him wearing such valuable clothing, he seemed very out of place. There was a humor in all this, too. Everything here was like secondary school; Emmaraude was the popular cheerleader and right now Bennjamon was acting like the damned fool hoping he could still be her date for prom. He was actingas if the Jedi was a -threat- now, and posing with all the grace and subtlety of a high school bully. And he was even more amused with Emmaraude putting him in his place.

With the nobles having their little verbal joust, there was little for the Jedi to do but follow quietly and keep alert. Bennjamon likely took the put down mildly, as he did want Emmaraude for a second wife. Beninan seemed to not follow the tension of the situation; his mind was still back in the Great Hall and wondering why he had to attend these events. So as Emmaraude led them to a throng to handle business, Jevac simply kept to his duty and remained quiet.

”Ambassador. Happy Charging. I am glad to see you were able to come, I think you will enjoy the festivities.”

Her soft voice was as smooth and level as a politician’s could be, yet lacking that slick, shady quality that earmarked so many others, instead with just enough inflection to wonder if the warmth implied in her tone was truly sincere, if perhaps the brilliant light in those smoky emerald eyes was not always at such a shimmering glitter due to the myriad of tiny jewels and precious gemstones that adorned the woman’s rich costume. If the tall, lithe ambassador noticed, however, he did an excellent job of masking it as the Senator’s voice drifted over the low, idle chatter of the Greater Main Hall while leading her party around the guarded entrance to the private area where she would entertain her guests, instead turning to face her with a smile wreathing his face while lifting his glass of Thine in the air to the slender woman.

”Ahh, Senator! Happy Charging. That is your traditional greeting during this festival, is it not?”

As Emma gave a nod, the small entourage following in the auspicious procession of the planet’s leading figure dispersed into smaller clusters around the tables and couches, servants slipping forward soundlessly to offer plates of refreshment to those with empty hands, leaving her to lead only a small few to where the Ambassador stood solid, forcing her to come to him, a silent manipulation she did not miss. The Ambassador thought she did not know already that his treasury was near bankrupt, which would be a powerful bargaining chip that the young Senator would use to her planet’s advantage. Men who made a show of their status and positions usually had little other than their claims to back them up, the Senator had found early in her political career, and Zidan was loud and clear with his intentions.

The Jedi, she noticed from the corners of her emerald eye, had fallen back a slight step once they reached the roped off area, the visible presence of the armed guards making Emma only slightly more comfortable than when crossing that large, open area; still a visible part of her party, but not so close to her back. She found that she acutely recognized the absence of sensing his vigilant presence at her back, but did not let a flicker of it show over her features as the delicately coifed head dipped slightly to the Ambassador and her lips turned up in a smile.

”Yes. It hails back from the ancient traditions when this was a day for celebrating, a happy day, the day of the charging of the crystals of Paolino. Ambassador Zidan, may I present the heir to the Mayor of Requare, Binnjamon Phylis and his younger brother, Binamon.”

Bennjamon and Binamon had remained close to the Senator as they approached, and the gracious hostess turned slightly to the pair. Their status as second son’s to the Greater City allowed that she introduce them to the man, and both had been reared in the murky water of polite company in political company, giving the perfunctory bow at their introduction.

Emmaraude cast a glance at Jevac, briefly, then gestured to the banquet-styled tables laid out with platters and bowls of food from across the galaxies as a way to lead them away from the Jedi before the Ambassador could discover the man and become curious and begin to ask questions of the somber dressed fellow, his dark robes like a black tear amid a prism of colors circulating around. The feast would be one of the finest in the City and would remain out for the whole of the night while the Senator had dipped into some of her own coffers for some of the beverages that were circulating on the small, opaque trays held by the well-trained servants slipping silently and unobtrusively through the guests.

”Are you her body-guard, or lover?”

A very soft, husky voice nearly purred into Jevac’s ear as with the skill and grace of only a woman with long practice in the arts of slinking like a cat, a slender, svelte Paolinoian politician’s wife slipped up to the strange man. She wore a soft, striking white gown adorned with thousands of tiny crystals and diamonds so that she seemed to glitter like a snowflake in a forest falling, her pale blonde hair twisted up in an elegant and sweeping coif that seemed to accentuate the slight, upward tilt of her seducingly smoldering hazel green eyes that played pointedly and provocatively over the man and seemed to whisper ’Whatever she does for you, I could do better’.

It was obvious by the way those eyes cut to the Senator who was so skillfully leading the Ambassador and Philys son’s away who the ‘she’ was that she meant, and too was it equally obvious that his new companion had intentionally waited until Emma had drifted slightly further from the Jedi before approaching the enigmatic man. But she kept her reasons for waiting until the strange, darkly dressed man was partially ‘alone’ amidst the group before approaching him to say anything to herself, a skilled politician’s wife was Chandrelle Furqan, skilled at the arts of deception, diplomacy and seduction.




So this was the Ambassador. Of course, the one thing he didn't prepare for would rise up to bite him in the ass. Ambassador Zidan was an old...acquaintance...of his. The last time he had seen the Ambassador, of course, was during a sticky mess involving the Ambassador's 'ransom' and a rather large shipment of spice that was 'missing' from a Hutt's gang. Now, fortunately for all involved, it turned out that the Ambassador had only been passed out in a spice den with a sizeable chunk of his personal fortune owed to the Hutt after some disastrous wagers on podracers. Still, old Gragor had planned on having a couple of Rodians put a few bolts into the Ambassador as a lesson to all the deadbeats. Fortunately, after a brief 'discussion,' Gragor had agreed to be repaid with credits...and not the Ambassador's life.

It had worked out very well for all involved except for Jevac, who had been forced into wacky misadventures, and one Rodian, who had learned of the Eagle Claw.

“And you, Jevac,” Zidan said rather eagerly, having suddenly seen the man amidst the more pleasant scenery. “It's very good to see you again! What in the galaxy are you doing here, might I ask?” He reached to a tray held by a lovely young woman and lifted it, now attracting attention as he did so. Jevac did his best not to show any mix of amused frustration, and instead concentrated on summoning up just a tiny whisper of strength in the Force.

“Oh, this and that,” Jevac said, having no better lie at the moment. He waved his hand dismissively, using the gesture as a mask for his focus. Meanwhile, he breathed a suggestion into the Ambassador's mind, willing him to take those words quite seriously and be satisfied with the answer. And strangely, the Ambassador did. He simply parroted, “Ah, yes. This and that. Of course.” His voice was a bit monotone and flat. Quickly recovering, he said, “Ah, well. No matter. Really, I should tell the story about-”

“Oh, no, really. I'm sure no one would be interested in that at all,” Jevac said.

“Ah, yes. No one at all.”

Fortunately, this let him slip off a few feet, the better to examine the open area. With fortune, he would see the muzzle or other mark of someone meaning harm to the Senator as they crossed the open, passing off his scrutiny as the starstruck look of some tourist. He -felt- no immediate danger and saw none. Her security was competent, and kept their own watch. Still, it bothered Jevac to be more than arm's reach from the woman, even if it was the best was to take a look and keep an eye out for the routes by which an attacker might try something.

Having been separated from Emmaraude, he took a moment to contact Veyna on his commlink and keep her quietly abreast of the situation. She replied, and made her way as close as she could while still playing a naïve waif, then set up to also watch the routes in. Meanwhile, Jevac found that Emmaraude had drifted a little away, and a young woman had come forward. Her beauty was simply stunning. Physically, she was barely shy of perfection, and Jevac couldn't -help- but notice that. He was a man, after all. But he was not a simple creature to be led around by a flash of neckline and a throaty purr, nor to be easily manipulated nor blinded. The young woman had all but stepped out of a holovid with 'femme fatale' as her dramatis personae. Of course, the woman was obviously after his attention, so even if she couldn't blind him as she had doubtless so many others, Jevac still had to find her angle. And she likely did have one, whether it involved anything important at all. For all the Jedi knew, she could simply be a little, bitter minx playing games with anything involving Emmaraude. He'd seen that sort before. She might simply be fishing because his presence on Emmaraude's heels made him an 'important' unknown. Or she could be the proverbial black widow at the center of it all. Who knew?

“Neither,” he said very noncommittally. “The Senator's personal life is none of my business. I'm just lucky enough to get to see the charging up close,” Jevac said. He offered her a faint smile, then took a few steps back toward Emmaraude, keeping himself close enough to intervene in a second but hopefully far enough to keep the young vixen talking. He half considered simply playing into her little game and pretending to be wrapped around her finger, but thought better of it and said, “Happy Charging, miss. My name is Jevac. May I ask who I have the pleasure of meeting?”



For a moment, Emma felt certain all her careful maneuvering would have been for naught when the Ambassador hailed Jevac and the Jedi Master returned the greeting with equal recognition for the man, though nothing in her cool poise shifted, her brilliant green eyes flickering between the men. An instinct told her that something in the Jedi changed, shifted, but it was nothing tangible, and nothing more than a woman’s intuition about a man, and as such was easily dismissed from thought. Especially when nothing was done to deny the association but instead the entire exchange became so utterly common that it was completely forgettable by any who would have overheard it. The Ambassador himself seemed to all but forget Jevac, even, and when he did that, the young Senator found she could have given a tiny sigh of relief.

There was still the slight sensation of his absence at her back that had her shoulders nearly twitching, though he had not gone far, simply enough to give the woman a slight measure of privacy while conducting the orchestra of business, for she made no mistake in knowing precisely what these events were – excuses for business to be conducted outside the grand halls of commerce. And any who did not realize that politics and commerce were inexorably and intricately, intimately, connected would never have understood why just so many would attend the feast in the Grand Main Hall of the City. The Senator knew these things would be on the periphery of the Jedi’s interest in the people attending the Festival this evening and in order to maintain his guise of the ‘casual guest’ to the Festival at the Senator’s side, he would have to maintain a polite disinterest in the drift of her conversation with the man to politics and, ultimately, the trade contracts they were negotiating for.

When next she had a moment to let her eyes find the Jedi again as the sensation of his presence near her again drew stronger, she saw that he had been swooped upon by the stunningly gorgeous wife of one of her own senior Ministers, Emma found herself torn between amusement and distress. It was natural that the beauty would instantly find Jevac the object of her attention – the woman preyed on men like the jungle lynx preyed on the children of the villages when those innocents strayed too far from protection. And while the Senator would never pry into the man’s personal life, indeed, would have been horror-struck to have knowledge of his personal affairs, Emma also knew that Chandrelle Furqan was beautiful enough to distract any man from his surroundings, and if she sought to sink her hooks into Jevac, he would have his hands full keeping blonde goddess at bay.

Which, by the smile that slowly curled the succulent ruby lips of the golden beauty in the pristine white dress, Emma thought she could perhaps see those lovely claws starting to unsheathe to prick his skin and draw him in.

Indeed, Chandrelle could not have been more delighted by his answer than if the man had openly painted a target over his chest and invited her blindly in. Not only did he declare himself free from the only woman she might truly pause over attempting a seduction on, but he also eliminated the possibility of being some secret security force protecting the planetary leader. Jevac would find her suddenly a half step closer to him, following him slightly as he shifted back, somewhat closer to the Senator, but still not precisely with her, encouraging the vixen to give her hips a slight roll as she came closer to him, taking the offer of his name and questioning her own as more than enough encouragement. That slight roll to her hips, she knew from studying her reflection in the mirror, gave her bountiful breasts a provocative little jiggle that most men would have to have been made of stone not to notice. Chandrelle silently waited in gleeful anticipation for the man’s jaw to drop.

”Happy Charging, Jevac. I am Chandrelle Furqan. Is this your first Charging? When you say ‘up close’ do you mean the Senator’s pavilion?”

There was a husky allure to her voice, a honeyed invitation that came with her eyes stroking over the man while those words were again a throaty purr for the Jedi, a combination that typically entranced her ‘prey’ to reveal more than they intend, or perhaps not notice the subtle leading of the woman’s interest, her entire attention focused on the man so that she did not even notice the bright glimmer of emerald behind him, drifting slightly further closer to the banquet tables and spread of breads and fruits and cheeses there as Emma lead the Ambassador, Bennjamon and Beninan further from Jevac and his new ‘companion’.



Of course, Jevac had lied. He was more than Emmaraude's bodyguard, but that was part of his job. They had found bits and pieces from the site, and meanwhile there were other avenues to research, but the Senator was simply too vulnerable at the Charging to -not- have her two Jedi near at hand. A good, professional bodyguard of the entirely mundane sort would knew that this was one ruse that could be used to distract security. A sharp one wouldn't let their guard slip. Jevac was aware where Emmaraude was. He would keep close enough to the group that he was still on its periphery. This required a few steps, which of course gave Chandrelle a chance to continue her little display.

Of course he noticed what she did; she couldn't be more obvious if she tried. It wouldn't work, of course. Jevac said simply, “A pleasure to meet you, Chandrelle. And this is my first charging, so I am quite lucky to be able to join the Senator's party thanks to some mutual friends. Hopefully Zidan will prove less of a handful than usual. Why don't you join us now?” He led her toward the rest of the party, as Chandrelle followed with a pouty, vexed expression.

“Ah, welcome back, Jevac,” Ambassador Zidan said. Of course, he didn't bring up anything about Jevac now, still strongly influenced by the mind trick. Jevac returned the greeting quickly, and as the party was busy with their introductions, he would take a moment to lean close to the Senator. Very quietly he whispered, “Do you know what she wants? Laugh like I just told you a joke.”


”The mining and selling of the crystals is government-regulated, Ambassador. While the companies that mine the waterfalls might be privately held in the commercial industry, the waterfalls themselves, good sir, are on government lands that allow the companies to mine the crystals, then turn them over to agent-companies, which are run by the Administrative Office of Crystal Commerce, where they are either sold to carefully chosen buyers and agencies, or, used here, on Paolino, for the very same purposes. So, you see, you could not go to an… ‘outside source’… to purchase the crystals mined here.”

There was something beautifully unyielding, yet so melodic, in the way she gently parried the Ambassador’s proposition to purchase the stores of crystals he wished outside of the list of sellers presented to any interested purchaser with proper credit to be deemed a ‘serious buyer’. Her smile was so disarmingly unthreatening that the tall, lithe man could hardly determine if she was simply playing the role of a tough negotiator for her people, and he looked into her eyes for a moment, as if trying to read past the brilliant glitter of those lovely emerald hues. She meant it, Zidane suddenly decided, just as a slight, unobtrusive servant stepped forward to offer a plate of fruits from across the planet and galaxy to the man.

A ripe, crimson and green spotted fruit was selected after a moment and with a slightly beetled brow, the Ambassador attacked the food with a subtle savagery, looking to the elder of the brother’s the Senator had brought in tow as he launched into a plethora of advantages to dealing with the government agencies to begin with, as opposed to the ‘black market poachers and thieves’ who could offer the same cargo, but for outrageous prices, and stolen to boot so there would be the added disgrace of enabling dens of thieves.

Emma observed this in silence, her mind processing the way the man listened to Bennjamon with a slightly elevated brow but said nothing as his mouth worked the tender fruit over furiously, masticating it to some pulpy mass, she imagined, when a familiar sensation came whooshing back again and Emmaurade knew instantly that Jevac had made his vigilant way back in close to the Senator again. Zidane took this as a way to interrupt Bennjamon’s continued praisings of the trade with the sellers listed, so that Bennjamon found his mouth clamping shut as the strangely dressed, strange man, returned to the Senator again, and as if his presence wasn’t enough to set the jealous man on edge again, he brought a woman Bennjamon would have loved to have gotten his hands on, but could never get interested in him, a ‘mere Mayor’s son’. Not when there was the ripe fruit of the planetary politicians and the circles they moved in to amuse Chandrelle Furqan.

Chandrelle, however, seemed to sense the aura of power around the Ambassador and quickly moved forward to be introduced, so that for that instant, Emma heard Jevac’s voice close in her ear, his voice very low, and her face frozen for a moment in the face of his question followed by the command to laugh. Instantly, a low, softly musical laughter came from lips frozen in that upturned smile as the Senator wondered if perhaps the man was blind, paranoid, or sensed something in the predatory blonde beauty that Emma did not. True, Chandrelle was beautiful, and cunning, but thus far it seemed as if she had kept most of her manipulations to what bed she would sleep in during her search for a ‘second husband’ as equally if not moreso powerful than her first.

”Perhaps she seeks to make you her next husband, Jevac.”

With her head turned slightly to his so that the bright flash of the jewels in her stiffly arched headpiece winked and gleamed like stars in a midnight sky, the impression that she was giving back a comment to his whispered joke, a shared moment of privacy between the two that was not missed by the younger Phylis son, young Beniman noticing how the Senator spoke in a very low murmur to the strange, bald man in the somber, boring robes of the Alliance. He caught the teasing upward turn of her pretty red lips as their ‘joke’ continued, but missed how Emma’s green eyes translated that harmless comment to a genuine answer – She had no idea what the woman wanted with the Jedi Master, and indeed, thought her to be little more than a harmless, common flirt of the social climbing type. Until now.

”Your Senator was just telling me how the government keeps a strong hand on the crystal industry.”

The Ambassador’s voice quickly pulled her head back to the man again, away from Jevac as Emma let her carefully neutral face be seen again, but before she could speak, another low, smooth male voice joined the conversation. Clipped and just this side of hostile, Minster Tandino’s voice was none-the-less perfectly inflected to stay on just this side of hostile as the Minister who had abandoned the group shortly after arriving in the city reappeared at her side.

”Yes. Our Senator has certainly devised a rather… efficient.. grip on the trade, wouldn’t you say, Ambassador?”

At the same time, a group of men swaggered by the guards at the entrance to the Senator’s private area, just drunk enough to feel cocky and eyeing the rich fair and wealthy garb of those within. After a little jostling and jeering on their part, one felt bold and decided to try his luck, attempting to pass the guards and enter with the planet’s elite officials and ruling class, and found his way blocked by an unmoving, armor-plated chest. Offense was taken to this objection to their entry, and it wasn’t long before a fight broke out at the entrance to the Senator’s private party, the men feeling arrogant with alcohol and spice and numbers on their sides, while the guards attempted to subdue them without actually harming them or making a scene. It wasn’t until a blaster skittered across the marbled floor that things actually got difficult as a woman simply passing through the Grand Hall spied the weapon and gave a short, shrill scream.




Emmaraude was not-very-gently rebuking the Ambassador as they approached. There was no subtext to her words. She was clearly reminding him of his place in this little trade arrangement. Weighing in rather unsubtly himself, he reminded Zidane of something -else- he wasn't considering.

“And of course, Ambassador, dealing with that sort of scum could be disastrous if the Alliance found out about it,” Jevac said. He kept his tone rather plain and conversational. “I'm sure the Senate would consider some kind of sanctions if a planet were undermining another system's legitimate trade.” This was about as subtle as a sledgehammer to Zidane, but rather predictable as an offhand comment. Zidane -wasn't- thinking; it couldn't make any sense to suggest supporting pirates and smugglers to the Jedi. He didn't bother with extrapolating any further. Then their introductions followed. So soon, he had Emmaraude's ear, and now the two could whisper. When he heard Emmaraude's answer, Jevac didn't need to fake his laughter. He simply said, “Are...you serious?” When he saw Emmaraude wasn't joking, he just shook his head and said, “So she has bad taste.” His humor was rather self-depreciating, even as he turned his attention back to the discussions that were going on. Zidane was busy hearing why he should do business with this or that private interest. The brothers, naturally, had a few favored companies. And those companies did favor them in turn.

Still, the argument was an interesting one. Jedi were expected to be neutral to these conflicts, but the back and forth was interesting from a disinterested point of view. Some places would have such a market completely controlled. Some places would leave it to the collective whims of every trader. And some would develop a hybrid system, as had Paolino. Given there had been hellholes and utopias of each stripe in the galaxy, and amongst every type of people, he didn't question it. Yet there was something fascinating from his unconcerned point of view. Watching Emmaraude answer eloquently and powerfully, however, gave him a renewed respect for her quick wit.

The Minister returned, and now their little entourage was complete. Of course, while he and Emmaraude shared their little joke, the others continued their discussion on planetary trade. As they did so, Chandrelle kept trying to make eye contact with the Ambassador, who was much more pliable to her charms than Jevac was. Of course, the fact was Jevac was an unknown. He was a man without a past. In these circles, there were no nobodies, and she simply had to know what and who he was. The rest went on with their negotiations.

He had no business entering Tandino's verbal sparring. Nor was their time. The scuffle caught his attention immediately. This was the sort of diversion which would be able to prelude an attack. Whether or not there was anything to this, there was no option except to immediately take it as a possible incident. He took the momentary distraction to speak into the cuff of his robes, “Go. Move in. Get her out.” With one swift motion, he concealed something subtly into his hand under the black fabric of his sleeve, a familiar weight which was comforting and easily hidden.

With the confusion, Veyna heard her master's simple instruction, but with the press of bodies moving out of the room, she found it hard to move in. Fighting the current of the crowd, she pushed forward and waited for another instruction. In the meanwhile, she kept scanning the crowd for a look at the situation. The scuffle drew her attention, and she bit the proverbial bait, thinking that was the danger. She went to retrieve the weapon which skittered out onto the floor, fortunately failing. The guards were on it in a second, locking down the area and readying stun gloves if the confusion got worse. However, in doing so she wound up going against the grain, coming up to the group as others were beginning to scream. She could -feel- the wave of panic hit the crowd, and the pain as the trampling and press of bodies took their toll. One of the guards almost called for her to get arrested along with the initial troublemakers until she wised up and went with the crowd until she could find a pocket to hide in where she could watch.

Jevac, meanwhile, also reacted. Stepping between the brawl and the group, he expanded his senses. He said rather sternly, “Go, brisk walk, to the evacuation tunnel.” He began herding their group back and away from the crowd, moving as a unit to their planned egress. With the pistol out, the crowd was now frightened. Security were already coming back for the Senator. The throngs in the area were now in a frightened wave pushing their way out. Fear was infectious. One or two screaming about a gun turned into a dozen. A dozen turned into a hundred. A pistol turned into a rifle. A rifle turned into many. And that hundred was quickly blossoming into even more as a team of security started moving in to try to restore order.

The higher priority, however, was getting out the VIPs. Even as Jevac started moving the group out, there was a push of Emmaraude's guards to intercept them. Jevac's fingers slipped onto the ignition of his weapon as it remained curled in his fingers, hidden in his black robe.


One thing that could be said for the military force on Paolino – what they lacked in quantities, they more than made up for in quality and discipline. While the huge Main Hall began to shred itself into panic and disarray while the words ‘blasters’ and ‘kill us’ circled the room in a wild-fire whisper, the guards of the Senator’s office remained perfectly calm if not in control of the situation. A terrified merchant attempted to seize a blaster from one of the guard’s sides, determined to protect his family and person, and rather than get into a fracas with the man, the young guard simply doubled up his fist and clipped the quivering chin of the portly man, sending him neatly to the floor as his eyes rolled back into his head, effectively neutralizing the threat of the man’s panic growing with the screaming of the people as fear spread and turned the crowd of normally sane, rational people into sheep, determined to leap off the cliff’s edge to escape the wolf chasing them.

The Senator watched in disbelief as the natives and visitors to her planet shifted into a frightened mob, realizing in that instant that she had far underestimated the fear that the pirates attack had put into her usually calm, dignified citizens. They were un-nerved by the mysterious rebuilding of the ruined city, un-nerved by the strange man who had appeared but days ago on their home-world and remained a perfect stranger glued to the Senator’s side. They were set on edge, nervous, frightened; Emma saw that now, very clearly, as the festive atmosphere disintegrated into panic and chaos and the wave of panic spread over the vast Main City Hall.

Apparently, her guards were on high alert as well – perhaps Jevac’s doing when she allowed him to meet with the Captain of the Palace Guards? – as they materialized in a protective cocoon around the Senator and her small group, circling the Mayor’s sons as well as the Ambassador and the femme fatale who had latched herself to the small party of powerful political figures. They moved with a silent, swift efficiency, weapons at the ready, one of them managing to slip between Emma and the Jedi Master to remove him from the inner circle, and when she noticed, the classically sculpted beauty of the Senator’s brow was marred by the frown that curled her lips and drew the elegantly arched eyebrows down over the glittering translucence of bright emerald eyes.

”Jevac..!”

It was all she managed to get out before the guards began to move them as one towards the back of the small, cordoned off area, shuffling them en masse to where a discrete door was revealed as one of the paneled walls slid back, the well lit tunnel beneath obviously meant for the swift removal of the dignitaries as the order was given to evacuate them all from the room. A stern nudge from one of the uniformed guards told the Senator that she was to move, immediately, while she searched out the Jedi again, finding him helping to herd her and the rest out. Strange, the sense of relief she felt and kept hidden when she realized that he was helping to remove them from the room and knew that he would be following, the Senator feeling undeniably safer with the Jedi’s presence.

Somewhere behind them, a shot could be heard going off, the soft, whining ‘ping’ of the blaster being fired starting a screaming of fear that carried and swelled as others heard it as well and reacted with only one thought ‘I’m being shot at!’ It seemed to be the catalyst that escalated things. Another shot was taken, followed by several more, and one very well-aimed shot streaking into the VIP area to send one of the guards surrounding the Senator toppling over, his head suddenly sporting a bloody, gray-oozing hole as he slid bonelessly to the floor right before Emma’s feet. A tiny wisp of smoke curled from the outer tips of her ornamental head-dress, a scorched hole declaring that had the shot been a fraction closer to center, the slender beauty leading the planet would have been dead.

The gap in the guards was quickly filled by another as the Ambassador darted to the tunnel, leaving the very beautiful, but very deadly Chandrelle a few steps behind him, the woman’s charms fled in the face of true life-threatening danger so that she stumbled and lurched into the open doorway, her skin-tight white dress making it nearly impossible for her to take a full stride and finding herself very nearly run over by the Senator herself. Emma did not have time to react to the fact that she had felt the heat of that blast on her cheek as it had killed one of the guards, instead finding herself in the escape passage before she could realize it. Another carefully aimed shot was squeezed off at the vacating party, and with a sickening scream and lurch, Bennjamon Phylis stumbled at the entrance and fell over behind her. Emma knew without a doubt that she was under attack, and fear clutching her heart in a vice-like grip had the woman moving swifter into the tunnel, following the escort of Senatorial Guards and looking over her shoulder to see if Jevac was with her, or had stayed behind to guard her escape.

[FireAngel]

Just a fraction of a second before the first blaster shot fired, a brilliant beam of green flared from Jevac's wrist. Pale viridian light formed a small blade, much shorter than an arming sword, a perfect weapon in a crowd this large. Of course, the problem was that there was much too big an area to cover and defend against, even with the guard fortunately rushing to aid and close ranks around the Senator. Brave men, those, willing to use their own flesh to protect the Senator as the shots rang out. The first shot and the second were both close enough by that he could easily send them sailing off into the roof, preferring to mar the tiles than let them land. Emmaraude's guard could not be faulted for their loyalty, even if they could for their sense. Pushing a wedge to protect their Senator with their life, they created the opening around the lightsaber, and then the fatal shot came. He pushed his way back into position to hold that line so they would be as safe as they could, covering the group as best he could. The familiar surge of adrenaline hit him, but not the fear. He had seen this too often and faced it many times. Growling his way through the crowd, he batted away more errant shots and kept his blade from taking down another while they fell back. They had almost made it out successfully.

“Can you see the shooters?” he called into the commlink.

”No, Master,” Veyna said rather breathlessly. This was...this was strangely exciting and terrible. The girl felt her stomach do three or four turns before settling back out of position. She wasn't sure if she was ready for this, or if she was able to do the right things. She wasn't sure she would be little more than a burden. Afraid and exhilarated, she pushed her way through the panic. No one paid her any mind as she began climbing up. Her best guess was that the shot had come from on high, and if she could only get up into a balcony, Veyna could start moving up the stairs and back hallways which would hide their enemies. Reaching out, she tried to expand her senses as she had been taught, but the images never came. They seemed too panicked, too afraid, for her to simply rush off and -feel- her enemies. Instead, landing on a balcony, she grabbed her own laser sword and began gingerly combing the upstairs. Of course, the absurdity of her outfit was somewhere in the back of her mind. She kept adjusting a little piece here or there.

Jevac, meanwhile, had his hands full moving the crowd without having them held up. When Emmaraude called for help, he turned to her and shouted forcefully, GO! Then he returned to providing the guards and the group cover. But they were too large and too many. Fortunately, when they had enough clearance he could extend the sword to its full length. This was better, and more than one guard was left alive by the flick of his hand. Jevac hoped the girl would be able to trace down the shooters as he shuffled off the crowd, because at the very least he had been exposed. They had dramatically increased the volume of fire in response to the glowing sword, and so most of it sailed off into the ceiling.

But not enough. Bennjamon fell as Jevac held the doorway to their escape tunnel. Even as it sealed, he sent back the brilliant bolts. Only when it was sealed entirely did he turn to see Bennjamon. The man was on the ground, desperately clutching at a torso that was not entirely there. It took no expertise to see the situation was grim. Stooping down, Jevac kept his ignited weapon in one hand and with the other pressed an autoinjector of bacta to the man's neck, then felt for a pulse. There was barely one, the agonizing pulse of a heart that refused to quit when it had no chance. There was only a moment to act, so Jevac turned to two of the guard, saying only, “You two stay here and get the medics down here as fast as you can.”

“Oh my stars, oh my stars, is he dead?” Chandrelle asked in a shaking voice. There were tears starting to form in her eyes.

Jevac knew better than to answer that question; he instead took immediate control. Bennjamon was dying, and certainly near dead. Whether he could survive was very much in doubt. Their only option was to press on quickly. “We continue. Do whatever you can.” He saw the pale, torn expression of confusion on the young guard's face and said, “Move it, trooper!” giving him a rough shove towards Bennjamon. Something snapped at that moment in the man, and he reached down to his small medical kit. His companion suddenly sprang to life as well, kneeling to cover the approach with his rifle. They left Bennjamon there with one of the guards beginning chest compressions on what was left of the young man's torso. The only thing to do was make certain that Benamon was not too panicked to flee. He was pale and distraught, and no one would have held against him his tears or when he had gulped out his brother's name, but he -was- sticking with them.

“This way,” Jevac said, pushing to the forefront of the group. It was to keep him in the most likely position for them to be attacked. They crossed a T-intersection on the way to the evacuation airspeeder, and there Jevac peeled off two more guards. “You two. Cover down that hallway.” Now with their rear protected, they turned down the left hand tunnel as the two men kneeled behind the wall and pointed their muzzles down the route they had come. Two more intersections crossed their path, and they lost four more guards to hold them, though then the guards which had been farthest behind were recalled, creating a leap-frog pattern. They had guards two intersections behind them and new guards running to rejoin their small group. Finally, at their last turn, one spoke up. “Um, Master Jedi? The Senator's speeder is on Deck Bravo.”

“Yes. Everyone knows that, which is why we're not foolishly going there,” he replied crisply. Another turn brought them to the railspeeders which crossed the center, now closed down due to the attack.

Having pushed her way through the crowd and climbed the balconies, Veyna found nothing except for the retreating footsteps she heard in the distance. It took her a few seconds to think where they might be headed. Of course! The Senator's airspeeder! The assassins would be the sort to cut off the group there! She had to warn Master Tor. Reaching for her commlink, she tried to raise him on it but received only static.

It's up to me! she gulped nervously.

Running as fast as she could, she raced toward a balcony overlooking the Senator's airspeeder. There, as quiet as a mouse, she crept in to try to spy the murderers, her heart in her throat. She hoped that she could contact her master and warn him, or maybe see the fiends before they did something terrible. The airspeeder was on its landing pod, looming dangerously out in the open with only a few oblivious crewmen quietly setting it up as if nothing had gone wrong.

She just -had- to warn her master not to come to the airspeeder!



”Did you get her?”

“No. And that stranger with her is a Jedi.”

The snarl that came following the identification of the strange man with the Senator was vulgar and vicious and hinted at not only the Jedi’s parentage, but the duration of time that his innards would remain.. well.. in. The three loitering by the Senator’s airspeeder all shifted with that curse that came from the fourth – a man not in a uniform at all but gave a ‘middle management’ type feel to the small meeting of the assassins. The feeling that he would kill them for failure came with a touch of a desperate taste and had the other three shifting a little away from him.

”Alright. You two, stay here. Kill the Senator, and her Jedi. Klax, you come with me. I want to know the moment they are dead.” Polished black shoes crunched on the smooth cement as the fourth whirled and stalked off, merging with the confused and frightened dignitaries and members of the older Houses who used the landing pad to access the Festival at the Main City Hall, the one named Klax following a pace behind and leaving the pair behind. The door to the Senator’s ship whispered open as they fiddled with the panel by the door, sliding down silently and admitting the pair to the belly of Emma’s ship, where they would lie in wait for the evacuation of the woman along with the rest of her party. And once that ship was airborn, well, Paolino might have a few less governing members by the time it landed…

They would have a long wait, however, as the very woman along with ‘her Jedi’ that they sought were deep in a labyrinth of passageways that honeycombed the ground beneath the Main Hall, moving swiftly and at the heart of a protective core of guards, all armed, all nervous yet adhering to their training as they followed the Master Jedi’s orders, waiting until being recalled to the group and watching the passages that remained empty behind them, guarding the retreat of the Senator and clutch of people with her, including the Ambassador, who eyed Jevac somewhat warily, his eyes dipping from the man to the glittering, silent woman who moved with long, gloriously adorned emerald skirts whispering in her wake and speculation warring with concern on the Ambassador’s features. Just what was going on on the planet of Paolino that required the presence of a Master Jedi guarding the Senator? They were not so important a planet to the council, after all, as to warrant a Jedi.

As soon as Jevac took the lead, the rest followed him, including Emma, her bright green eyes shimmering on the back of the man’s head as he quickly and efficiently moved them through the complex passageways, each leading to another part of the city, another destination, one of those being the deck where not only her ship, but the ships of other citizens would be. When she realized that was not where they were going, her gaze narrowed slightly on the back of his head, but she held her tongue as he explained where they were heading, letting another of the guards speak for her. Obviously, he had anticipated something occurring, and it was only slightly piquing her that he hadn’t shared any of his plans with her, though she chose to not let it show. Emma had decided to trust this man with the protection of her life, and reminding herself of that helped to push the pique away entirely. Instead what she needed to concern herself with was the fact that everyone now knew that he was a Jedi. Correction – a Master Jedi. Fortunately, current circumstances dictated that this issue be left aside in the face of fleeing assassination, giving Emmaurade some time to consider her next actions when faced by her peers.

They were silent save for the sounds of feet over the floor and the faint tingling of the Senator’s glittering gown, studded with hundreds of gleaming, sparkling jewels and adorned with slender chains looped around her slender waist and dangling to the hem-line that brushed the floor as she fell in quickly behind Jevac. He moved faultlessly through the turns that would see them come to a doorway marked Deck Tango, and for a moment, not even she knew precisely where they were. It wasn’t until the last of the guards had joined their party and were fanned out to guard the last intersection that Emma stepped up to Jevac, cutting a wide path around the arc of that brilliant green blade dangling lethal from his hand, and cut a glance over her shoulder. Young Benamon had a pinched look of pain over his adolescent young features; Ambassador Zidan looked frightened, though he tried to hide it well enough; Chandrelle was opening crying and looking like a frightened rabbit, about to dart off at the slightest sound; two Ministers of her Cabinet had managed to make it through that exit as well as two other members of the Elder Houses and Dalliah, her servant along with a few others who trembled and looked around as if ready to bolt, their swift flight through the tunnels having done nothing to ease nerves frayed by the shooting in the Main Hall.

”Jevac, have you arranged for a ship large enough to hold us all?” She spoke very softly so as not to alarm the others, a hand almost touching his arm to stop him from moving to the plate by the door that would sweep it open silently, her bright green eyes like smoldering jade orbs thickly fringed by long lashes looking up at the man.



From her position upon the small parapet, Veyna could see down into the landing pad where the Senator's ship was. From her hiding position, she could just barely avoid being made out if she kept low and kept under a small, decorative battlement. Lurking there quietly, she kept calling into her commlink. “Master Tor, come in. Come in.” But there was no response. The speakers were too far away to hear all but a few words (“Kill blah Senator blah Jedi,” was sufficient) but that didn't stop her from seeing the weapons they carried and making their intent obvious. One was leaving. Where he was going she could not guess. Her anxiety pressed hard, blood pumping through her ears, but very quietly the young girl reached for her commlink, and flipped open the holographic imager. Setting it to take a very rapid series of stills, she had the presence of mind to take off the flash before twisting it around the corner. Five a second for ten seconds gave her fifty still images of the general area around the speeder, some of them certain to be useful to them. Then, still in hiding in her ridiculous dress, she waited for instructions, hoping to get a commlink to her Master before they walked into the trap. Even in the Force, she could not feel him; Master Tor was always so -slippery- for some reason.

“No. The metro did,” he said. There was no good way to get a ship in here quietly he thought. The entire area was now doubtless on lockdown, with civil air and space traffic no doubt contained and controlled. However, Jevac's plan wasn't to avoid being found, but to get caught during the escape by Emmaraude's own security forces. They were close to the rail lines, but the complex labyrinth of lines was nothing they could navigate on foot. He had a simpler idea; that rail center had to be secured, soon.

Down in the bowels of the maze, the group made their way to Great Civic Center Station, a massive festhall turned rail center, now currently locked down. Of course, the blast door went down after a few strikes from a laser sword, and they were able to enter the station. Now surrounded by the frescos and eerie silence of a bustling rail station completely emptied, Jevac took a moment to check his commlink. No signal. Instead, he turned back to Emmaraude, Chandrelle, Benn, and the rest. “Your men are going to want to secure this station. No one knows we're here, yet. The cavalry will be here, and we'll simply ride their transport out.” Of course, he was simply assuming the commanders would load the Senator and her retinue on a transport and then send another for the troopers.

Finding a secluded office, they hunkered down to wait. Jevac set two men down to guard the door, facing down both passages, while the rest searched the office to make sure they had secured the one entrance. With a single door, they could have the guards change frequently to keep them from becoming fatigued. The most merciful thing inside the small office was the water, as just about everyone needed a cup. Almost as needed was the sense of normalcy it provided after the attack. Jevac found a small terminal on a desk, then began trying to login. It was very easy when some dolt left his login and password on a piece of flimsy in the first drawer.

He couldn't directly contact the forces Emmaraude had contacted, but he could do one better. Somewhere between the computer's user's pornography and holosites for pirating shows, he found a voice synth program which would let him contact Veyna – not on her military grade commlink issued by the Order, but the simple one which she used to call her friends. “Well. Looks like we have a way to call for help after all.” He beckoned Emmaraude over.

Veyna gasped when her commlink went off. It was playing Rebel Scum's Two Thousand Lightyears -so- loudly! She buried it in her hands to muffle the sound before opening it quietly. A synthed voice from an unknown number murmured.

It's Master Tor. Sitrep.

Jevac saw text appear on his screen, labeled ScumFanV: Don't go 2 speeder!

We're not. Hidden in the rail station. Can you contact the Paolino Guard?

Veyna took more time to respond, now taking time to send things in proper Basic despite events. No. There are at least two men waiting here for Senator Tal. Is she safe?

Yes. Take them down. Cho mai.

There was a very pregnant, long pause before: Yes, Master.

“I told her to capture them,” Jevac said quietly.

Veyna heard that tinny, alien voice convey her master's orders. It was inhuman as it calmly ordered her to strike. She glanced about to see her best way to do this, then quietly sent back her compliance. Swallowing nervously, she decided to play the assassin's own trick against them. Heading down the ramp toward the ship, Veyna stopped to steal a small crate to carry and a bunch of flowers out of a vase. Two of the legitimate guards stopped her at the ramp to the pad. “Halt! Flight crews only.”

“Yeah, turn around, little lady,” the other said.

“Oh, no, I'm just Senator Tal's...new handmaiden,” she said. Waving her hand, she added, “I am just going to see to her personal effects before the flight. I can pass, really. You'll just let me through.”

The two men repeated in a monotone, “Yes, you're her new handmaiden seeing to her effects. You can pass, really. We'll just left you through.”

She quickly hurried toward the two men, concealing her weapon in her hand much as her master had. Now, walking toward the ship, she made it almost aboard before the two mechanics stopped her. One demanded, “Sorry, miss. We're still working inside. You'll have to leave.”

“Oh, I just, um, have to take care of Senator Tal's things inside. Yes,” she said as she brazenly walked past her. Neither man just wanted to off a girl in her teens for no reason, but if she was in the ship, she could be taken down and kept out of the way. Striding inside, she could feel them reaching for their pistols in silence behind her. Her blood pounded in her ears and she waited until they were in the ship. “Well, actually, um, I'm here to arrest you,” she said when she suddenly wheeled, dropping the crate and flowers to come up with a pistol. In that second, a brilliant burst of purple light flared from her closed fist and its thunderous hum echoed in the ship corridor. The blade was held before her, ready to reflect fire so she could stun with the pistol. Yet her eyes were nervous.

“Like hell, little girl,” one snarled out. He squeezed the trigger and Veyna fought her reflexes, not hitting him with his own shot but sending it into the floor. She raised her own pistol while batting away two more shots, then squeezed the trigger. Nothing. She tried again, and got nothing. Casting it aside, she dashed forward to strike with her weapon. Two swift strikes later, and she was panting over two men, each doubled over and holding the stumps where their hands had been, all three pistols on the ground.

Veyna took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then said to the two men, “Don't move!” She hoped her voice wasn't as shrill as it had just sounded. With her left hand she called her pistol to her hand, and saw to her dismay the safety was on.

Right. Master Tor didn't need to hear -that- part.

I have them inside the speeder. she sent back as soon as her adrenaline wore down a bit.

Them who?

Two assassins. They were at the speeder.

Hold them. Call for help.

Got pics Veyna sent, then started to forward the images to her Master.

“Good job, kid,” Jevac said to himself.




”He is a Jedi, Senator?” While it came in the form of a question from Sire Lovell, there was enough sting in it to make it more accusation than question, the first of no doubt many to come as the group found the shelter of the offices and were finally able to feel secured again, looking around and realizing they had not been pursued and there had only been any real danger coming from the Main Hall itself. The hints of fears were quickly shed, peeled off like layers in an onion to reveal their stronger, inner core again, all save young Benamon, who found a chair and slumped into it, burying his head in his hands and letting out a shuddering sob as his older brother’s fate replayed again in his head. Emma felt a wave of compassion for the boy break through her cool façade and crossed to him, ignoring the man who faced her in outrage.

Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, the delicate beauty of the woman turned down in a compassionate frown as he looked up at her slowly, tears in his eyes, terribly young, terribly frightened, terribly confused, and met her somber gaze with another soft cry. Very softly, Emma drew the crying boy to her, embracing him for a moment and ignoring how his tears would ruin the costly silk of her gown, instead feeling him cry on her shoulder. ”I am so very sorry, Benamon. So sorry.” she murmured softly into his hair, letting his grief run its course while from the corners of her eyes she noticed Jevac plunking at a terminal. When he beckoned her over, she looked around for Dalliah, motioning the girl over and gently disentangling herself from his hold. ”Dalliah, look after him for me.” was all she said before slipping past the Elder and Ambassador both to Jevac’s side.

Emma was quiet while he found a way to contact his apprentice, the woman chillingly calm and… still after the attempt on her life, the charred hole in her head-piece evidence of that near-success. When he passed on the gist of his communication with Veyna, she simply gave a faint nod, her eyes moving from him to the terminal again, her visage a pale, calm beauty despite the fact that the son of the mayor had exchanged his life for hers in the attack, albeit unwillingly. ”Will she take them alive?” Emma asked very softly, the distaste of the very question flickering over her features before gone again, as if the whole affair were savage to her delicate senses. Of course, she knew it was a silly question immediately after it came from her lips. The Jedi were not murderers, unless they had gone to the Dark Side, and Master Tor had come with high recommendations that were assuredly not of the Dark Side.

While he waited to hear back from the girl, Emma shift her sleeve up to reveal a small, decorative commlink on her slender wrist, pressing it so a signal was sent on a secure wave to the Captain of her security detail that would give her exact location in the railstation offices, a beckon that would immediately dispatch troops to her location who would escort the Senator and her party back to the safety of the Capitol Palace. Outside the office, she could hear voices, very faint, but knew they would be the guards locking down the rail-station, her eyes cutting to the doors for a moment, then back to Jevac.

”Senator, you did not answer me!” Sire Lovell stepped forward again, his face curled in a scowl of displeasure as his accusing glance cut to Jevac once more, a finger lifting to point at him even. ”This man is a Jedi. Why is there a Jedi escorting you to the Festival, Senator?” For a moment, a mad, irrational moment, she thought about confusing the hell out of them all and sauntering over to drape an arm around Jevac’s shoulder and proclaiming they had intentions to one another, and almost giggled at the reaction it would cause, not the least of which with the very man in question. The urge to laugh was stifled and she turned to look at the Elder of the House of Lovell with a cool, arched brow.

”Sire Lovell, the Festival of the Charging attracts a number of people from across all the galaxies. Are you saying it unusual that I invite a Jedi Master to the Festival when he is on the planet?” Her cool riposte came with a hint of incredulousness that he would suggest that she forego centuries of mannerly breeding to offend one of the members in good standing with the Jedi Order. Of course, had not the assassination attempt occurred, he might have backed down, but as it was his eyes narrowed and he gave a snort. ”And what strange timing his visit has.”

Emma chose to ignore the barb thrown out there, refusing to rise to his bait as she turned back to Jevac at his murmured praise to his apprentice, a slender brow arching slightly in question. ”She has them..? Good..” the Senator said, nodding her head, and then quickly turning it as a shout outside the door marked the approach of the troops sent to respond to that beacon on the Senator meeting up with the guards he had left stationed outside the office. ”And not a moment too soon, it would seem..” She said softly, looking around the room and then back to the door as it slid open to admit a line of her own Palace guards flanking Captain Rizza, who looked very, very concerned as his gaze sought out the tall, slender woman standing by the desk manned by the Jedi.

”Senator! Are you alright? Were you hurt? What happened?” The Captain came forward with all the haste of a man loyal to his employer and genuinely bothered by her abrupt disappearance, pausing before her to bow low, then look from her to the Jedi with eyes narrowed slightly. Obviously Jevac’s identity was well and truly out and she wondered if there was about to be some sort of male induced friction – who could guard the Senator best type thing, which she very much did not want, and shook her head a little. ”Please, Captain, I would like to return to the Palace. Jevac, will you brief the Captain during our return?”



“She'll do her best,” Jevac said, having confused Emmaraude's meaning. Most of the time he was used to people underestimating his silly little Apprentice. Veyna was stronger than she looked, and more capable. Not that she didn't have her odd moments. He had little doubt that the girl could handle a few thugs in any case. When Veyna started sending him pictures of the men, he started transferring them to his own datapad.

Jevac thought that the matter needed no explanation, given the blaze of bolts which had fallen around them a moment ago from heavy weapons fire. Of course, there was also the small matter of a back-up plan with two men in the Senator's speeder. Clearly this was an inside job. When the Captain entered, Jevac brought him over to the terminal and quietly showed him the holos. “Do you know these men, Captain Razza?” When the man shook his head, Jevac said, “They were waiting for the Senator on her personnel transport. ...Security...has captured them.”

“I'll go to have them picked up,” the Captain said, wondering how in the galaxy they had managed to capture these men while holed up there. Jevac didn't mention Veyna; the girl could take care of herself and her lightsaber would make explanations superfluous. “Let me send that back down to the boys at the labs,” he added. Jevac gave him copies of Veyna's pictures, which Captain Razza sent back to get identified if her could. While he copied the files, Jevac quickly briefed Captain Razza. Emmaraude might had worried about some testosterone competition, but Jevac was quite cooperative and would work as well as he could with the men.

“Yes, Senator,” he said when they started to peel off. Now with the group together, they could make a hasty retreat. Only when they had begun their withdrawal did he ask, “Have you sent paramedics?” to Captain Razza. With a subtle inclination of his head, he motioned toward Bennamon, making his meaning clear. Captain Razza silently nodded. “Let me know what you get on those images, please,” he added.

Veyna waited, nervous at first, but soon calmer. The men were in too much pain to put up any trouble, given their wrists felt like they were aflame and the phantom pain of their hands was brutal. Soon security guards came and arrested them, and her too, herding her into a wagon with the very men whom she had struck. Razza'sinstructions never mentioned the young Jedi, and despite her protests Veyna was herded into the same holding cell the two of them were in. There, she sat quietly frustrated on one bench, which she had to herself, while the other two huddled on the bench as far from her as possible. It took her almost an hour to be freed from the cell, only after some astute desk cop realized that Veyna must have been associated with the only other person with a glowing sword and that her weapon wasn't a replica toy.


~*~*~*~



”Senator, please…” There was exasperation leeching into Minister Ja’s voice as it was elevated to be heard over the overlapping outcries in the Chamber Council room, voices arguing one with another while others were agreeing and much grumbling came with heavy undertones from the ten men around the table. ”Now… Now… Hear, listen I say! Good gentlemen, listen! It… It’s for her own… Her own good! She must… Sir! That’s uncalled for! You recant that immediately!” Bluster turned his face red as Minister Ja took exception to a slur that was uttered through the mutterings and outcries in the room. For a moment, everything disintegrated into chaos again as voices were lifted to make opinions heard over those of their fellow council-members.

Smoky jade eyes took in the scene from her calm position at the head of that table with a measure of disbelief etched over her features, wondering briefly if somehow her council had been switched with a school-yard full of children as each side took exception to the other, and hadn’t even given her a moment to interject on her own behalf! The Senator couldn’t help but gaze in disbelief at the disarray her dignified Council had fallen to. Long, sooty lashes swept downward to close out the scene of men and women, her noble Paolinoians, the pillars of society, stood arguing – over whether or not she herself, Emmaurade, would be safest remaining on the planet or be hidden away after this assassination attempt. As if she were a spineless piece of rubbish to be swept away. Those lashes fluttered as her eyes snapped open again, the svelte figure of the woman arching and straightening while her hand fell from where she had been rubbing her temple and hadn’t even realized it. They would find she was the planetary Senator for a reason.

”Good Council-members…” Though slightly elevated, it was still soft enough that it took a moment for the fact that she’d even spoken to penetrate, but slowly, it did, and as they began to look around, one by one, for the source of that soft, steely voice, finding their gaze drawn to that still figure settled in adorned splendor on the wide bench, yard after yard of flowing, turquoise green silk cascading in a soft waterfall from her slender waist while hundreds upon hundreds of tiny emeralds and diamonds sewn into the edges of the scoop-necked and bodice hugging garment and sluicing in thin runnels of shimmering glitter down the long fabric gave it the appearance of flowing like water in gently rippling patterns. ”Your concern for my welfare is touching. But as you can all see, I am quite unharmed, and I will not turn-tail and run, nor hide, at the threat to my life. This is not the first time I have faced danger in my service to Paolino, nor will it be the last. I will not be leaving the planet.” There was a note of finality to her words that gave them pause, her silence like the slamming of a door as those unflinching eyes gleamed around the table.

One by one, the Council members began to slowly sit again, a tense stillness falling over the room that was near palpable, broken only by the soft scrape of shoes over the floor and chairs and benches settling back into place as the ten settled back around the table again, giving quiet coughs and reaching for cups and papers to restore order again to the dignified gathering.

”Senator..” The silence was broken by Sire Lovell as he finally looked up from his position two seats down to her left to meet her brilliant green eyes, the lingering traces of fire in their depths giving him a moment to pause again, as if re-considering his words, and then shifting tactics slightly. ”There is a Dreadnaught cruiser on one of the bases. Can you explain this? And it’s Captain, this… Harris person?”

Emma felt a tickle of a smile at the corners of her lips as she considered his swift change of tactic. He wanted to ask about the Jedi Master, but thought perhaps the Dreadnaught and its captain would be safer. She wasn’t entirely certain yet if he was or not, and chose her words carefully. ”Captain Harris has offered to return a shipment of crystals. Minister Ging has already verified that it is from the cargo ship ‘The OmegaTron’. The brilliant shimmer of those jade-hued orbs flicked briefly to one of the few women around the table, Rona Ging, Minister of the Warehouses and Keeper of Records, a woman with the enormous task of keeping the planet stocked and overseeing the sale and distribution of the crystals to government approved buyers – a job she performed by having an incredibly well-trained and structured network of people who answered to the Minister.

”And just what does he want in return?” Sire Lovell hammered the point home with a pointed look at Emma, then around the table to his fellow Council members, as if she were to gape in naieve surprise at this unconsidered question; instead, Emma gave a mildly bemused curving of her lips and slight shrug of her shoulders. ”I do not know yet, but I will meet with him soon to discuss his acquisition before we consider him suspect. And then, once we are certain, if he makes a request of reward, we will speak of it. But until then, I thought it better to keep his ship grounded, at least for the time being.” Soft murmurs followed her return, and she let them run the course before looking around the table again.

She knew they wanted to know about Jevac. By now, his identity would be well and truly known, and too was the girl, his apprentice, who had managed to create a stir in the holding facility, her lightsaber having been confiscated while she had sat in the holding cell with her detainies and by now even Emma had heard of the soldiers eyeing it warily and longingly while awaiting orders on what to do with the girl. ’Release her’ they had finally said, while the architect of her release sat looking at ten men and women who wanted, and perhaps deserved, some answers.

”Jevac is a Jedi Master here to help us find out who is pirating the crystals once they are in route and out of our space.” But she would say no more, giving them only enough to abate fears and remind them that she had only the planet’s interest in mind with his presence. She didn’t tell them that she had quietly sent Dalliah to fetch the Jedi and his apprentice to her offices in the governmental palace and would be meeting him there soon. ”Once we have the thieves apprehended and tried, he will be gone.”

”Gone, but we will not be forgotten..” Came the snorted retort from somewhere down the table, drawing her attention to find the owner of the voice but unable to figure out who muttered it just loud enough to be heard. ”Given that I know this is… unexpected… but considering the vicious nature of the pirating occurring, I thought he would be of assistance. As today’s attempt has proven, someone is not happy with me, or my position of office. Given the threat, I’d say his presence is perfectly justified.” Again, that note of steel crept into her voice as her gaze leveled around the table, noting the nodding heads from those who looked away, taking affront to the thought that they could not protect the Senator perfectly well with their own small but well-trained army, on top of the idea that they were inept alone at finding the pirates stealing the crystals.

”Now, if you will excuse me, there are to be some new security protocols that are going to be put into place that I must attend.” The excuse to adjourn the meeting was given coolly, and from the few flickers of relief she saw, perhaps not a moment too soon for some. They had been locked in the meeting for some hours now, the wee hours of the morning starting to rise after only a few spent at rest, and Emma knew that both Jevac and the girl in the ridiculous dress, his apprentice, would have both been comfortably ensconced in her office with a polite breakfast laid out for both and instruction to feed while awaiting the Senator.

The members rose around the table as she finally stood, her legs under the heavy skirts wanting to wobble at first after so long seated, then holding firm as she stood on them longer, waiting for the table to rise around her before giving a slight, stiff nod to the room and turning with a glittering grace to move around the table and find the door. Exiting with a pair of guards falling in quiet step as she stepped out and an aide running up with a datapad in hand to fit in between her and the pair, Emma waved them all off. ”Thank you, but no” and moved down the immaculately appointed hall, leaving them all behind. Without a word and passing the stirring palace, Emma went straight to her office, nodding a greeting to those she passed without stopping until the door swished silently open and she stepped in with a faint tingle of the costly adornment to the flowing gown announcing the Senator as she stepped into her own office, the glitter of green eyes mirroring the gleam of emeralds arching behind her head in a jewel-adorned corona to frame the delicate features that looked around her office in a quick glance to where the small table in the corner would have been set with plates in an obvious breakfast for her guests.




“So, you don't think it's suspicious?” Veyna asked as she swung her legs idly, seated on a large planter. Since her discovery as Jevac's ace in the hole, Veyna had changed back into her white robes. Still, the pretty (and a bit ridiculous) dress was going into her closet, and she had to hide a little glee that this mission meant she could have a few more equally outrageous and girly disguises.

“Of course it's suspicious,” Jevac said. “I said I doubt he was a pirate.” There was no good reason to assume the man was. If this captain had any sense, he would have simply taken off to parts well-known – say, anywhere on the Outer Rim – where cargo could be sold with no questions asked. “He'd have been able to sell them for a mint elsewhere. As it stands, he is in possession of stolen property, and in no position to make a demand. Emmaraude could simply take it back lawfully and tell him to go space himself. I doubt she will. Whatever the case might be, the good captain isn't looking for a fast score. He's either playing a long con that means he needs to get close to Emmaraude, or, stars help us, actually an honest man.”

Veyna chided, “You're so cynical, Master.”

“And rarely disappointed. Speaking of, did you make practice today?”

Veyna was almost not surprised. Master Tor cutting her some slack? Of course not. She'd only been shot at, imprisoned, treated like a common criminal, and involved in the attempted assassination of a Senator. “Um, no, Master.” He simply motioned with his head for her to go to the small quarters which had been provided for them. When she was out of sight, the old man began stroking his chin thoughtfully. Veyna was a child in many ways still. She had not really shed blood, ever. For now, her immediate concerns were protecting her from the shock, but sooner or later his student would need him to help her deal with the blow of violence. Veyna had expertly taken two men's hands off and seen men blasted apart. Each was a wound in the Force, one she would feel keenly. He could help blunt that, if the Force gave him the right words. It might. There had never been a way to tell. Still, there was much to do before getting his own meditation and practice in.

The captured men weren't initially talking, but when words like, 'high treason,' 'amnesty,' and 'how long before their execution?' were floating around, he didn't suspect it'd be long before the men would talk. Each was already nursing the pain of a burn and a phantom hand. The interrogators were not going to take it easy on them either. Perhaps later, Veyna could try picking apart their minds; telepathy was one of her fortes. In the meanwhile, the men claimed to have had a handler named Aseneth, though both thought it an alias. They'd been offered only thirty thousand credits; this suggested to Jevac the men were flunkies and losers in the world of crime. Low-rank, low-grade hitmen or some such. One had a record; he was a Correllian who'd already done time four times. The other was a Palinoan whose worst crime had been stealing an air car. That hadn't been much to go on, but the investigators had kept right on trying. Palinoan Intelligence and Investigation agents traced their money back, and found it to have been claimed as profits by a non-extant restaurant before being paid to the men. The 'owner' of the restaurant was brought in. He knew nothing, truthfully; the man's name had been used to found the fake company and that was that. The 'restaurant's' funds were siezed, totaling over three million credits.

So, whomever sent the hit could afford that much cash. They also had been planning for months – the restaurant was only eight months old. They planned to move fast; when taxes were due, the restaurant income would be found and it would be no more. With that information in hand, he saw to the disposition of Emmaraude's guard. It was easier to work with Captain Razza as a 'consultant' than as a 'boss,' and so long as he suggested what he wanted Captain Razza generally went along. Emmaraude was as secure as she could be. The Council needed to be briefed. This took only a few moments. Jevac needed to meditate and train; this took a few hours. Finally, when this was all done, he went to find his student. Veyna...often he had to remind himself how young she really was. Not by nature a warrior, she needed an understanding and strong hand after the day's events.

She'd rebound, likely -annoyingly- chipper when she did.

She rested more than he. Jevac spent much of the night trying to chase back information from their captured men. A minor breakthrough came just after midnight. Veyna's pictures showed a man whom the Palinoan authorities had themselves recognized. A dragnet was set up; by the time he woke four hours later, they had caught him and already begun the interrogation.

Veyna and Jevac entered Emmaraude's office about thirty minutes before her. Veyna picked at the food and fought of sleep. Jevac had already eaten heartily and left an empty plate behind. Both rose when Emmaraude arrived. Veyna now looked like a Jedi. She had a dull brown robe over white ones and wore her sword and pistol openly. Her hair had a thin brain, a tradition amongst human students. Jevac was dressed the same as ever. Both had slept little, eaten their meals already, and kept a datapad full of the going's on of their investigation.

“Good morning, Senator,” said the girl. Jevac said the same, then remained quiet, only offering a brief smile. Whether Emmaraude caught on or not, Jevac intended to let Veyna speak as much as she could hand handle as much as she could. Unless she erred gravely, he would not direct her. “We've, well, we've been over the reports from the men whom we've captured.” 'We' meant Veyna. “They haven't talked yet. Both are ID'd, but small time. One's wanted on the Five Brothers. However, the one in the picture is in custody. He's...” she flipped through the file, “former First Lieutenant Yalarn Tamm, Discharged In Disgrace for two counts narcotics and one of conspiracy.” Veyna remembered her instructions – don't waste Emmaraude's time with the stuff her staff would have available for her. She focused on what the Alliance had on him. “He's been associated with a few mercenary groups off world. The Black Stars Rising off Nar Shaada, the Twin Suns operating new the Tapani Sector, and so on. Quite a sheet. We, um, were thinking that perhaps we could break him.” She paused, a bit concerned with that her idea wasn't quite -legal-, but seemed promising. The law wasn't always their way. “By offering him back to his old gangs knowing what a score he cut them out of.”

Three million credits worth of, at least.



Pirates stealing precious cargo. Cults rebuilding an ancient, ruined city. Assassins making attempts on her life. And now, her own council was nervous to motives. It seemed every where Emma turned, there were wolves sniffing at the doors and dangers peering in the windows of her once solidly secure world. If the Senator was ill at ease in the face of so much adversity, it didn’t show on the calm, cool façade presented to the Jedi Master and his apprentice when she faced them both as she crossed the spacious, well appointed office to the pair sitting at the small table in the corner, evidence of their breakfast left in empty plates and a healthy decrease in the amount of food portioned in service to them both at the behest of the Senator. Now that their identities were well and truly revealed, they would find their treatment slightly elevated through the palace and in their dealings with the native Paolinoians – or rather, Jevac would, at least. Veyna was still treated with a measure of doubt as to her ability to handle the… delicate situation the planet was precariously part of, even by the Senator herself.

So when the youth began to speak, she was almost discomfited by the obvious intention of the Jedi Master to allow his young student to take the lead in the arranged interview and briefing, realizing that the man was simply sitting back and allowing the girl to inform the Senator of what they had discovered thus far. Moving to the table, she poured herself a steaming cup of coffee, the beverage not native to the planet but imported at great cost and savoring the bitter-sweet flavor, ignoring the food and third plate laid out for the Senator and issuing them both a softly murmured ”Good morning” greeting. A small, green light flashed discretely on a small datapad at the corner of her desk, and she took a sip from the fine white cup, flicking the light a glance, then returning her attention to Veyna.

The name was committed to memory, and while a more naïve world leader would have been shocked at the inclusion of one of their own planetary citizens involved in a plot against their world, if the young Senator was surprised, there was no evidence to suggest it over the quietly composed visage turned to the girl as she spoke. In fact, the only real alteration of her countenance came when the girl voiced her hesitant query about ‘breaking’ the man; a slender, dark eyebrow winged upward over a flawlessly porcelain forehead at the question, but left nothing for interpretation as it was lowered again. Obviously the reporting was complete, and now she felt both sets of eyes on her, awaiting a response.

The cup was delicately set aside on the table, bright green eyes lowering to the task for a moment before lifting again, a clear light shimmering in the translucent depths and framed by long, dark lashes, enhancing their startling brilliance. Her gaze leveled to the girl first, then the Jedi. ”Paolinoian law dictates that the man must receive a trial. Unfortunately, however, these things may take time, and that, I fear, we have precious little to spare. We were lucky, at the festival, to have not lost them in the crush of people. Obviously, this is something that goes beyond a few… malcontents. Someone with deep coffers doesn’t seem to care for the way I am governing this planet. Next time, the assassins sent might not be so inept.”

She took another sip from the coffee then, considering her next words, presented with a choice to make now – to allow the Jedi to proceed, or stop and alter their course of action. ”No, Veyna. Let him remain a guest of our prison for now. Let him worry, and wait, and let fear for his fate weaken him further, while I have his associations investigated. Then, we will discuss his fate further. With so little information at hand, I will not make a rash decision.” There was a gentle finality to her words and a shrewd look in her crystal green eyes. Emma knew the delicate balance that her planet was poised to fall into a state of chaos, and the death of a native at government hands could very well topple it over the edge.




Lucky to have not lost them in the crush of people. Veyna couldn't contain a childish – and she knew it was childish – flash of disappointment she wasn't credited with capturing them. No, she hadn't stalked them to the landing pad, sneaked into the ship, and took them both down single-handedly. Of course, she was almost immediately aware that she should let it go – and so turned her attention back to the discussion at hand, having missed a few words in the moment. Her plan was shot down, and she knew better than to bring it back up. Of course, Veyna didn't want to actually give him back to the gangs, but the threat was probably enough – especially combined with a sustained assault on his will. Master Tor was notorious for those. Emmaraude was having no such thing. Jedi operated outside – but not above – the law, in a curious twilight between authority and roguish indifference. Senator Tal did not.

To keep Emmaraude company, the two continued to sip at drinks they no longer cared for, but it was the polite thing to do. Especially, as Veyna reminded herself, when the head of state of a planet was there with them. Emmaraude chose not to chance losing sway over the man for a quick chance to get his secrets, and there was no way to know if that was the right decision. Veyna had had almost an hour to think of how to respond to both paths Emmaraude could choose, and so wasn't -too- badly flustered at the moment. “There's a few other leads.” These, fortunately, didn't have an uncomfortable choice to be faced. “The first is the weapons. They definitely came from off-world, but are off-the-shelf Imperial pieces. The serial numbers match equipment from the Empire, so we greased the wheels for the security officers to get in touch with the Imperial Army. The weapons came from...” she shuffled through some datapads, found she had misplaced the exact unit, and only lost poise for a second or two before continuing (not before her master prompted her by clearing her throat – something about not wasting Emmaraude's time), “...some unit...anyway, the officer in charge was cashiered and courtmartialed for 'losing' the gear. Ivur Thront, from the Thront family – he got probation. We pulled up his contacts, but no immediate matches. Your people are starting a dragnet seeking his known associates or Thront himself, in case there is a tie. He was only convicted...three standard months ago?” Veyna said, confirming it on her datapad.

Jevac seamlessly intervened, speaking up immediately. He pushed off the desk but did not step between them. His tone was a firm correction, not meant to denigrate his student, but rather simply remind her that she had missed something quite important. “You did not mention that the Thronts, by way of the Gravins, are related to the Archanes of Praesitlyn.” Veyna's eyes went round for a second, and she actually did have to fight to keep her composure.

“Are, are you sure, Master?” she asked.

“Absolutely. Of course, they're also related to several noble houses on Anaxes, though this breaks off during the first Galactic Empire,” Jevac said. “And yes, those include the Tors. In all fairness, that would only have occurred to you to check if you'd known about how the old houses of the Empire were connected.” He inclined his head toward Veyna, indicating she should continue – and address Emmaraude. Unfortunately, the girl missed it.

“So, are you suggesting-” and then a stern glance caused her to be quiet. Certainly Emmaraude was sharp enough to catch what was unsaid, and there was no point in a conversation between the two Jedi cutting her out.

“I'm suggesting nothing,” he said. “That is incredibly tenuous.”

“Well. Um, lastly, their ship. We didn't get a chance to look at it. Their ship,” she said. “I think the security personnel have tried to check the navicomp and the like, follow up on its registry, and so on. Have they had any success?” Veyna asked. This the two sincerely didn't know – some clerk of a cop had been less than cooperative despite regulations.




The green light flashed inconspicuously on the datapad on her desk. Nothing was missed in their exchange, the Senator sipping her coffee quietly until it became cooler, the bitter flavor leeching through and causing her to set the delicate cup aside, finished with the drink. Her sharp, bright emerald eyes did not miss the way the two politely followed her lead, but she said nothing to it, instead lending the girl and her Jedi Master her full attention while the debriefing continued.

She sat silently through it all, though, letting the information drift into her mind like the grains of sand drifting over the dunes in the desert, hearing and processing without letting her shimmering green gaze give away too much of the thought within. What they revealed was added to the information Emma’s own sources had already given over, filling in few gaps but still with far too many left to the whole. The connection of Houses was something she had been well-versed in as part of the education of the well-born ladies of Paolino in their youth, more-so for the young Tal being groomed to inherit the elevated position of Senator of Paolino. Galactic dynasties had been drilled into her head until she had dreamed at night about ancestors and events and houses to haunt her dreams.

She fully recognized, and appreciated, Jevac’s attempts at keeping Veyna on task and focused on giving her report, minutes precious to the Senator of the planet. The stern glance gave the slightest of fracturing to a visage otherwise immobile, causing a slight elevating of a slender, winged brow before being lowered again. His correction was swift, but fair, and as the apprentice hastened to finish up her report, Emmaraude correctly returned her attention to Veyna to hear the rest. She had only just received the report from the security detail on the ship before addressing her council and had given it only the most cursory of glances. Standing with a whisper of fabric swaying from slim hips and the soft melody of slender chains dangling from a slender waist to brush the floor-length hem of the gown, Emma crossed to her desk like a shimmering turquoise dream, glittering as if in reflection of her very planet.

”Yes. Their ship.” This was murmured almost as an afterthought to the girl’s question when it seemed their report was complete and it was time to move from information to action. A small fan of datapads spread over the clear glass of her desk was glanced down to before one was selected, her thumb stroking over a slight indent on the surface to bring an flicker of information to life across the screen. ”The logs are encrypted in a dialect that a team is working on translating. All they have been able to retrieve is some coordinates.” It did not need to be said that they would both have full access to the information she held.

”I would like for one of you to take over the team investigating their ship. It’s a light cruiser, well stocked, well armed. Captain Jonn, at the base, has already had my own transport that they were caught at disassembled for security reasons. I would like for the other to see what can be found out about the ‘handler’ of the two men we have in custody. It would seem that these might be our two best leads.” As she spoke, Emmaraude crossed to Jevac, holding out the datapad containing what information she had on the assassin’s cruiser out to the Jedi Master in difference to his rank.



Taking the datapad, there was nothing to do but state simply, “We shall leave at once. We'll keep in contact, Senator.” Gathering Veyna by eye, they took their bows, replaced the coffee, and made a brisk exit.

[izerietii]

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