Star Wars-TOR A Galaxy in Flames

The mercenaries answered his call, some took their chance to respond to try and degrade him, some gave him a little bit of faith, if he dared to have it, and some, well, some were no different than the rest. He waved each one off to dismiss them, he had nothing more to say. If anything, he would attempt a microsleep before the next group moved into the room. His rehearsed speech had to sound genuine for each and every group.

And by destiny that. was.. hard...

-------

The Grandmaster had not responded to anyone or anything in the room outside of the sigh after being flipped off. What reason had she to feel anything for any rabble that entered into the Supreme Chancellor's office? At the goading of one of the little Sithlings, she opened her eyes ever so slowly to give them a patient gaze. Their existence was an enigma to the Grandmaster, were they not servants of the Dark Side? Why did they turn against Revan? Had their rage blinded them so strongly against their own best interests?

It wasn't worth trying to understand, she reasoned, and closed her eyes once more. Her presence here was for one simple reason, Exar Kun. There had once been a Sith who walked into the Senate, held every senator hostage, then murdered the Chancellor on the floor before the Force and all present. While the risk of a Sith sneaking onto Coruscant had been low, it was not zero. These two Sithlings proved that possibility.

But how could she do anything to stop them? She was the last Jedi on Coruscant. Or, so she had thought until just recently. A familiar presence graced her senses and she opened her eyes once more as the door to the Chancellor's chambers slid open. Aorri Besh, that forever loyal Knight. Her gaze softened upon him into something almost resembling pity. It was not that she pitied him though, rather, it was that she felt defeat.

Among all the Jedi who could've stayed, among all the dutiful Masters and Knights, a drunken duelist was the only one to remain loyal. He utilized the Force casually to flip a chair and sit beside her, a comfort that he had not abandoned his connections as so many others had. As he spoke to her, his gravely voice and accent grating on the ears, she smiled. Crossing a leg over over knee, she rested her elbows on her leg and her chin gently into her hands.

Flicking her fingers, a datapad floated from the Senator's desk and over to Aorri, "You missed nothing of import." She spoke, her voice quiet and soft like a song unheard since childhood. Kalla had always been soft, far too soft for her position, but who else was there to fill it? "Relevant information is contained within that datapad, we are searching for the location of Revan's factories."

She was quiet for a little longer after that description, to give Aorri time to look over the pad, before continuing, "I'm glad you're here, but you should leave Coruscant, Knight Besh. The temple is to be closed, its reopening is uncertain. I will withdraw to Dantooine, there are more loyalists there..." Gently, she attempted to place a reassuring hand on his arm, "You would be welcome, of course."
 
Oh, no, we're not letting this go that easily.

"Coward," Verse said, loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear her.

No, obviously that wasn't going to be enough. "Don't you want to know why we're here? Or--how we got here, or why we're taking this job, or why we've been posing as bounty hunters? Or are you content to just--sit there, and ache? Kun's still-cooling corpse, I thought Jakal was exaggerating when he ranted about Jedi passivity, but here you are--the representative of your whole order, sitting still and playing 'I pretend I do not see it' with us."

Fuck, it would be so satisfying if the bitch killed her. She bet Corre could get a good hit in on her afterward, too. Maybe the trauma of it would break through whatever mental block or lack of innate sensitivity had stopped her from developing her force powers further, too.

"I know I'm not important--in the grand scheme of things, I mean--but surely what I represent, here, in this place, right in fucking front of you means something? Or are you all fucking hypocrites, as well?"
 


Aorri grunted in response to the Grandmaster, finding that her answer was exactly what he had suspected. He plucked the datapad from the air and settled it in his hand, scrolling through idly as he took in what she had told him. Factories. Belonging to Revan. The information upon the tablet was negligible-- boilerplate, even, which did not help his confidence if this was the intelligence that the Supreme Chancellor was privy to. Though, if they had summoned him for matters such as these, perhaps he should have expected that.

"Has the Republic scouted Rakata Prime, recently?" He muttered, not even bothering to look over to the Grandmaster as he kept his gaze held upon the datapad. Another scroll. "Isolated. Hyperspace anomalies make it difficult to locate, approach, and attack. Fueling station within orbit-- and Sith presence, if memory serves." He shrugged. "Also far from Revan's territory, which makes it less likely a target. Or an obvious one." A pause. Another scroll. His eyes narrowed, then relaxed. "Just a consideration--"

He would have finished his thought, if not for the interjection of yet another meeting-goer. At that, Aorri's gaze finally lifted, settling upon the two women who he had yet to place-- though one was certainly familiar, the particulars eluded him. One realization was quite obvious, however, and Aorri looked to the Grandmaster at the Sith's accusation of passivity. He bit back a chuckle-- not necessarily directed at either party, but moreso at the simple absurdity of the situation-- and finally spoke in a low tone, staring forward. "There are Sith here?" He muttered, quaint surprise present in his voice. He considered the Sith's insult of hypocrisy, discarded it, and stood a moment later-- avoiding the gesture of contact from the Grandmaster as he raised himself from the chair. While he did not know who she was, Aorri Besh certainly picked out one name from her tirade.

"I would not trust the notion of a Jedi's passivity from a dead man who begged for mercy at the hand of one." The Kaleesh stated, looking down at the datapad-- and then back to the Sith duo. "I cannot speak for Grandmaster Zatoq, but I was reading." Then, with a flourish of his hand, he tossed the datapad into the air, softening its trajectory like a calmly-thrown discus. Hardly offensive, and easy to catch. "I suggest you do the same." While inherently against his normal instincts of self-preservation, it was ultimately practical to work with whoever these folk were; desperation bred strange bedfellows, and an outburst at the Supreme Chancellor would hardly change things. Passive, yes-- and rational. At that, he looked to Zatoq, brow furrowing. Unlike her own, his was a gaze of true pity. Dantooine?

"Nothing out there." He stated, softly. "For me, at least. It appears I am needed here, and I go where the Force wills me. Should you require anything of me beyond that, do let me know."

 
So Revan - more importantly his supply lines were the target. Kesh-Dan wasn't surprised, during the Mandalorian Wars it was the constant stream of resources from the Core Worlds that kept the Republic navy in the fight till Revan took control. He knew the Jedi were capable of a lot, but pulling ships and soldiers out of thin air was beyond them. There had to be a source for his war machine and destroying it would be key.

If they didn't end up killing each other first.

Kesh-Dan just sat back with a half amused look on his face. If the Chancellor had been Mandalore, he would have just kicked in the teeth of every mouthy prick in the room for talking back. It was messier for sure, but there was a straightforwardness to it that he missed. Instead, everyone in the room seemed happy to just throw insults back and forth and threaten violence. Kesh-Dan sighed, just more work for him if a fight broke out on the ship.

"Before we start tearing at each other like Cannoks, can we decide on a destination? Hell, someone just tell me who's ship I can dump my stuff on." Kesh-Dan eyed the map again. "I spent a long time on Nar Shaddaa, it's got deserters from all sides telling a lot of stories. I've got reliable sources, and there's always plenty of people willing to talk with enough grease or pressure."
 
Cal watched as others began to leave and go their own way. He looked at the droid, turning his body in his chair, after she offered some of the space on her ship. "I'll take you up on the offer. We can work out the details later." Cal started to turn back around, then stopped himself to talk to the droid once more. "Don't worry, I'll buy my own food."

Cal looked at the data pad that he received from the chancellor, studying the details. Some of this was pretty interesting and helpful, while some of it...ok let's be honest, most of the intel just said the production facility was some where in the galaxy. Truly great job at narrowing it down. NOT.

"Oy, medic, the droid has offered her ship. Those sources of yours on Nar Shadda might be useful. I was thinking of heading straight to the Frontline and interrogating an officer in the mid rim." Cal said this quietly to Kesh-Dan so only he could hear. Cal wasn't privy on sharing his plans or information with everyone that was present in the room.

Studying the material and some people having left the office, Cal decided to dig for more information, "Chancellor, if you have the time. I have some questions about this information. I'd like to ask in a more private atmosphere."
 
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The Grandmaster was silent as Aorri spoke, waiting for him to process his thoughts and speculations before she would reply. It was in her nature to be patient. Perhaps a little too patient as, before she could respond, one of the little Sithlings stood to shout at her. The Grandmaster's face did not change throughout the young one's tirade, or at least, she tried not to change her face. But the subtlest hardening of her gaze was impossible to prevent.

When the Sith finished and Aorri spoke, she waited once more before responding to Aorri, "Rakata has been scouted. The Sith's presence is, light, to say the least. Primitives on the world attempt to kill anyone who lands, it's not exactly a friendly place. We know he sends nothing from the world, but it may have information we do not. Perhaps it would not be a bad idea to take a closer look."

Then, looking at the Sith, she added, "Did your outburst affect you positively, Sithling? No? I apologize only in that I will not give you a satisfying answer. You may be gone now." She felt nothing for the Sith, even looking upon the horrific cybernetics and dark mask, not a shred of compassion existed within her for them. Truly, if there was anything she wanted more in the galaxy, it was for the Sith to all fall on their sabers and destroy themselves. At least save her, and the rest of the galaxy, the trouble.

And at that, she rested deeply into her chair. Reaching out to Aorri's mind, she attempted to brush him with the most gentlest of reassurances. It was an emotional connection more than an actual message. No more than an attempt to let him know that even if he found his path elsewhere, she still considered him to be loyal.

Once more, the Grandmaster's eyes closed. Short of an attempt at a physical strike, which would only end in disaster for the attacker, she would react no more.

------

The Chancellor startled awake as Cal spoke to him, a mumble of words on his lips as he fumbled up and out of his chair. Looking around and seeing the same group as before in front of him, he sighed and settled back down into his chair. Waving them off, he responded first to Cal before speaking to the group as a whole, "No, I don't have the time. Everything I can provide you with is on those datapads. You may all leave now, I have more meetings that need to be worked through."

And, once more, he waved for those gathered to leave. If anyone hesitated, the Senate guards would begin to enter the room and 'gently' usher people out.
 
"I would not trust the notion of a Jedi's passivity from a dead man who begged for mercy at--"
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"Oh, please spare me," she moaned, eyes wide and hands pressed tightly to the side of her head. "I might choke to death on my own bile before I have a chance to reconsider anything, at this rate!" It was kiddy, but hey, if she was going to die here anyway--

But no, the grandmaster was speaking again. Oh, boy. Full-on ant treatment. Her gut twisted, despite her best efforts; she had to stare at the wall to avoid giving too much away. The childish display of fear was gone. It wasn't even really anger; just. Frustration, and smallness, under that old friendly surge of pain. Force, this fucking sucked.

"Yeah, alright," she said, pushing herself to her feet and moving towards where Corre was standing. She was still fucking shaking; why couldn't she at least leave with some dignity? "We'll try this again some other time, then. You and your lapdog, there." She cast a cursory glance back at Aorri--and then stopped, her eyes narrowing.

"Who is that, anyway? And why do I recognize them?" She had no idea how to distinguish between male and female kaleesh and she wasn't going to guess. But whoever they were, they were definitely familiar, somehow.
 
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Corre had been facing away from the pair of Jedi, focusing on the much more enjoyable crew of bounty hunters and vagrants that had gathered in the Chancellor's office. Despite that, though, Verse was confronting them, and as such, she took special care to pay attention to what was being said, and, perhaps more importantly, what was being done.

This wasn't easy for her, by any means. The Force was something that historically eluded Corre, ever present, but distant, much as her parents had been. Close enough to feel, maybe even interact with, but never enough to know it beyond the surface. It was through this tenuous, and currently pained, connection that she monitored the conversation.

Her back stiffened involuntarily at the remarks by both the Knight and Grandmaster. They were slighting her- slighting Verse, one of the most gifted Force adepts she had ever seen. It took a great deal of restraint to not join the argument herself, instead locking her eyes on the datapad, halfheartedly pretending to read off of it. She couldn't risk this opportunity, both to forge inroads with some of these rogues on the edge of the conflict, and to destroy Revan.

Once Verse approached, Corre took a moment to actually consider the Knight, and what they had said. They'd recognized their Master's name, said he'd begged for mercy. Seemed right to her, the man was always a coward, deep down. It's what led to Verse's mask, she thought. "I'm not sure, Verse. Perhaps you've met them before. What I see, though, are a pair scared to act, and desperate for help. How else would we have made it this far, as incompetent the Grandmaster believes us to be?" She flashed a smile in the older woman's direction, before turning towards the door once more. "We should be on our way. We have business to attend, and an oh so poor Republic to save."
 


Aorri surveyed the rest of the argument with a wordless gaze, having already said what needed to be said; at the very least, one of them read the datapad. Getting into a shouting match with a Sith would have been unwise, he suspected, and he was beyond the capacity for anger at the hands of petty insults. If they ever crossed sabers, he would let his skills speak for himself then. The sooner everyone left, the sooner this conflict would be resolved. The sooner they could all go back to being desperate enemies with one another. Truthfully, he was tired of this; times like these reminded him why so many had abandoned their cause.

"I am sorry you feel that way," Aorri replied to the Sith, opening the doors with a gesture of his hand. "It is a difficult thing, to control your emotions. Enjoy your stay on Coruscant, however brief." It was difficult to tell if what he said was even sarcastic-- if anything, he was too tired for wit. As the pair left, he looked over to Zatoq, feeling the reassuring presence of the Force at the back of his mind. She would feel his apathy, then-- that incapability of feeling, the sterile plateau of emotions. It was as if she had embraced a corpse.

"I will travel to Rakata Prime, then. See what I may find." He sat a moment longer, staring out at the nearly-emptied chamber. For a time, he simply sat with the Grandmaster, gaze a bit narrowed as he pondered his next steps. The Chancellor was busy, and he would need to leave soon; for now, though, he stayed put, unobtrusive and silent. The guards passed over Besh and Zatoq, for a time, and only when the last had left did he finally stand.

"Force be merciful upon you, Grandmaster." Aorri stated, giving a small bow. "Until we meet again, be well."

And then he was gone-- taken on the breeze of the opening chamber doors, and disappearing beyond them as they eased shut. Work to be done. Always work to be done.

That Xadok would be a good place to start, he presumed.
 
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