“No, I didn’t ask where the Quaestor’s office is, alright? On Daleem and Judecca, we just flew over the city until we tagged the tallest tower with the most guards at the door!”
The silver-and-gold Astromech droid following behind Jon chirped out something aggrivatingly smug. He breathed, and reminded himself the near century-old R3-unit had shock-prods, and tamped down on the urge to kick her.
“I distinctly remember telling you to download all public schematics of Tythas before we even left Kaas City, Artemis, what happened to that?” he quipped while trying to make heads or tails of the city’s public holomap. He had assumed that navigating an underwater city would be no different then navigating a space station or particularly large capital-class ship.
He had been wrong. Now he was three hours late for his meeting with Asani and his official induction as the Aedile of House Sunrider, and he still had no better an idea where in the frozen hells he was in the city he was now nominally part of leading.
All in all, not his worst first day on the job.
He just hoped he found his way before someone important recognized him and realized that one of the best astro-navigators this side of the Core was… lost.
Xantros looked around the Quaestrix office in Tythas and grinned evilly. He was patient, but Asani was getting a bit more nervous. The Duros was a new member of House Sunrider and he had been hired to run a Battleteam consisting of veteran members of the House. An independent operative himself, he knew how hard it was going to be to lead a bunch of independent operatives. While the Quaestrix of Sunrider was still wondering about how he had learned about the opportunity, he was not going to share any details, even if she conducted a full-scale investigation. He was not going to share ways of working that turned out to be so useful during his four years long self-exile from the Brotherhood.
Still, the Duros came prepared for the meeting. He not only memorized dossiers of all members of the unit, but familiarized himself with profiles of all members of House Sunrider, leaders of House Hoth and the Clan Summit of Odan-Urr. Some names sounded familiar as Xantros had been a member of the Clan years ago, when he made an attempt to redeem himself for all crimes he had committed as a Krath. Still, there were some new people around and he had to know more about them to make the best use of their abilities, no matter if they were Wildcards or not.
Even more importantly, on the contrary to another new member of House Sunrider, Xantros arrived right on time. Now, they were waiting for almost three hours for Jon Silvon who was supposed to replace previous Aedile of the House, Nikora Rhan. The Duros used the time to chat with Asani a bit and to study information about current situation of the House, but even he started to get bored.
„Do we need to wait longer or shall you finally introduce me to the rest of the Clan?” asked Xantros and grinned evilly. He started wondering if the new Aedile just wasted his chance to make a good first impression. After all, the Duros made it on time from the Outer Rim, while Silvon had to travel within the same star system.
Marius Edraven had quickly grown bored of waiting for the new Aedile to arrive, a mere fifteen minutes after the meeting was supposed to begin. In point of fact, the half-Sephi had arrived early, hoping to get it out of the way as quickly as possible.
Whilst not a traditional member of the Clan, the Shadow was standing in for his father, who was currently being held at one of the sites of the Templar Jensaarai. One that the man was intimately familiar with, if the reports of the annoyances Celevon had caused within the fortress were to be believed.
Inwardly, Marius couldn’t help but be amused at the fact that his father had been pranking his temporary prison wardens until they had given him reading material.
His twin sister and her wife had outright refused to attend the meeting, preferring to stay at their home on the island until this particular mess was dealt with. Jade had mere given a blunt ‘No’, then went back to standard maintenance on her ship.
After more than a half hour of waiting for the new Aedile, the Sentinel had sat down, rested his electro-staff across his knees and placed several empty phials in front of him. Marius had then sank into a meditation, distilling Force energies into liquid in a variety of potions.
Once that was done, he had corked each phial, stored them on his person and continued to sit quietly.
The Shadow occasionally tapped his fingers on the floor or the electro-staff, belying the fact that he wasn’t actually meditating.
If it continued for much longer, the half-Sephi was very likely to ditch the meeting entirely for something more worthy of his time.
Yes, Marius Edraven was definitely bored.
“Yeah, go out, get to know a few people, have some fun,” Blackwood grumbled to himself as he walked around a suspiciously familiar corner. “What’s the worst that could happen.”
Hands in his coat pockets, Blackwood was certain he had been going in circles for some time now in his effort to find the stairs. Rhan, frustrated at his presence as much as genuinely urging the towering Barabel to get to know the rest of the Clan, had booted him off of the Hyperion while they worked on finishing its repairs. It was difficult to entirely blame her. He’d known for some time that, were he not half-concentrating on suppressing his presence in the Force, just being nearby was enough to disturb some Force users. Especially the kind of Force users to who his very existence was a major breach of their core most values. That had made for several too many awkward conversions of late.
Blackwood was almost ready to find a private room and break out his cigar case, before noticing the door to the Quaestor’s office was open. Several figures were waiting inside, none of who were the new leader of House Sunrider.
“Is this a private meeting or can anyone join?” He asked.
“It seems they let just about anyone in.” Vigo said with a flat bored expression. Longer strands of his shaggy wolf cut hair dared to hang in front of his eyes.
The Umbaran sat in the back corner, his usual go to, with a wall behind him, giving his dark eyes as much visuals around the room as possible. Able to keep track of movement in or out. Keeping track of the whereabouts those in the room are.
He wore a black business casual suit, as he sat almost too relaxed in the chair he occupied. His legs were spread apart as he leaned back in the chair. Yet his eyes continued to track any moment around the room. His right hand, made of a metal prosthetic, held a small glass, in desperate need of a refill.
Blackwood looked at Vigo, looked around at the corridor and then shrugged. “Well, I’ve got nothing better to do than see how this plays out.”
He walked inside and began reaching for his cigars before quickly deciding otherwise. It might not have mattered to him, but most species couldn’t simply regenerate the damage from smoking.
“So, did anyone happen to bring a Sabacc deck with them?”
The half-Sephi looked up from his feigned meditation as a gravelly voice mentioned his favorite game.
Finally, a way to alleviate boredom!
“I always keep a deck handy, if you don’t mind one that’s in both Braille and Basic,” Marius replied as he slipped the deck out of his pocket. “Anyone else care to join in?”
The Shadow grinned, idly shuffling the deck as he moved toward Blackwood.
“I’ll join,” came a new voice; everyone turned to see a figure dressed in spacer’s-leathers that reached his ankles, with a wide-brimmed grey hat covering his eyes; clinging to one belt was a skull-like mask made of rough, patched together, dark-grey metal.
One or two people in the room had met Jon Silvon before. The rest new him from briefings on their new Aedile; an immigrant from House Hoth.
He saddled up to the table, all swagger and arrogance, looking very much like this was when he intended to arrive, and not at all like he’d been wandering the city hopelessly lost when he happened to hear Marius’ voice.
“What’s the ante?”
Vigo’s lip ever so slightly smirked at the mention of Sabacc. Maybe he would like these folks afterall. Maybe.
He raised the index and middle finger up in a small acknowledgement to the offered game of Sabacc. Drinks and gambling. Okay, they’ve got his interest peaked. He noticed new movement and a voice from the door and his dark eyes zeroed in.
“You are late.” His tongue rolling the R as he spoke.
“Better than never,” Blackwood said, taking a few items from Silvon’s desk and setting them aside. It was the only surface in the room more or less large enough for a quick game. “As for the ante? Let’s say how many rounds each of us will be buying the next time we visit a worthwhile drinking establishment. Reputable or otherwise.”
He eased back as the cards were dealt out. “I’m guessing no one here has any pressing official business right now?”
<@230809550297497600> <@267489687902486530> <@248237225202941964>
A human woman with dark red hair pulled back into a plait slipped into the room, in black cloth with strategically placed armor to protect vital areas, she had no discernable weapons on her. She flashed a quick nod to those sitting around the table getting ready for a game of sabacc.
She looked bored, but really she was in a mental checklist of everyway to get her sponser back for cornering her in a verbal battle of the nessecity of her presence as this meeting.
The young woman who entered in total silence was sort of a picture in somber. Her order robes were not, as custom usually dictated, white, but rather deepest mourning black with the silver outline of an oddly stylized dragon with a wide brimmed hat over one shoulder. The black cloth covering her eyes and the black lipstick offset the porcelain skin making it appear almost translucent.
Unerringly, she moved through the room to stop before Jon Silvon. In her hands, she held a bottle out towards him.
“My Mistress has sent me with a gift for you, Master Silvon. She hopes you will accept this tribute from her homeland.” Vianya bowed her head slightly, the picture of the demure handmaiden.
<@230809550297497600>
Jon blinked in surprise once before his instincts kicked in; all at once the mask of the cocksure gambler slid off and was replaced with that of the refined envoy. He stood up straighter and reached out both hands to graciously except the bottle, a wild change in posture from the aloof scoundrel of a few seconds earlier.
“Tell the High Councillor her gift is most welcome, and you are welcome to join us.” He looked over the label for a moment before realizing it was written in a language he didn’t know. “Do you mind if I ask the name of the drink?”
<@227653769842655233>
Vianya smiled at Jon and bowed her head again. “I will convey your words to my Mistress. She said it is a drink of distilled rice wine. Her brother says it tastes best warm, but she disagrees a little.”
The red head casually leaning against a wall, well at least pretending to be casual her stance was far to stiff for actual casualness finally spoke. And it was a with a thick accent that could only be identified as Imperial. “I agree with the High Councilor’s brother, it’s better warmed.”
Having no experience with sake — warmed or otherwise — Marius remained quiet on that front as he performed a few trick tosses whilst he continued to shuffle his Sabacc deck. Normally, the half-Sephi wouldn’t bother with this type of showmanship, but he was waiting to see how many would play before he began to deal.
One such example was to slide a single card just out of alignment with the rest of the deck, then plucked it into the air. It flipped once or twice before Marius snatched it in a deft movement, then returned it to a random part of the deck.
This feat of hand-eye coordination was all the more impressive due to the fact that the Shadow was physically blind.
“Good to see you again, Jon,” was all the greeting that the new Aedile received. Then, Marius turned and gave a seated bow to the Miraluka. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Marius Edraven.”
-# <@230809550297497600> <@227653769842655233>
Blackwood leaned back in the chair he was in. His first thought was bemusement at how crowded the office was rapidly becoming, quickly reminding him of an emergency staff meeting which had quicky gone wrong. His second, realising just how many spell-slingers were surrounding, was being very thankful he’d remembered just how to suppress his presence in the Force.
“If you need the wine warmed up, I’ve still got a setting on this I reserved for cooking steak,” Blackwood said, raising one hand to show one of the two Mandalorian iron vambraces he wore under his coat, one with a snub-nosed flame projector. “Should be enough to properly heat it up in a quick burst.”
Xantros looked around and grinned evilly again seeing more and more people gathering in the Quaestrix office. Some of them were right about to start playing Sabacc. They did not know that the real fun began,when one made a Wookiee upset. Certainly, upset Wookiees were so uncivilized, but they made life so much more exciting. Sabacc was such a boring way of spending time compared to the rush of adrenaline caused by a fair fight with two or three Wookiees. Knowing that, the Duros decided to do what he did the best – to watch and to listen. He was an outsider to the majority of members of the Clan. Only few of them had heard about him and even fewer had served with him in the Clan years ago. None of his old comrades were present in the Quaestrix office at that moment. He would need some time to blend in and to earn their trust. There was no need to disturb them with his sarcastic comments.
Revak moved through the room, nodding with a raised glass or a small smile to those who noticed him. For the most part, he tried to remain unnoticed so as not to disrupt the crowd’s energy. He found a seat next Xantros, placed his drink on the table in front of them, and relaxed back into the seat. Revak reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit chit that he then rolled between his fingers. Placing it on the table, he slid it in front of Xantros. “1 credit says a fight breaks out over Sabacc.”
“Alright, alright, you’re probably wondering why I called you all together here today.” Vez strolled into the room slightly late, slightly disruptive, and trailed by the rolling war crime that was MiniDuke, as was her custom. The Mirialan was nominally still a Praxeum Padawan, though she’d made herself quite scarce in recent months. Her master’s indefinite move to Arx as Headmaster was no doubt going to continue that trend, but based on some whim–perhaps the premonition of easy marks at the sabacc table–she had deigned to show up to the Quaestrix’s office.
“Oh, what do ya know, Jon’s still alive.” Her eyes turned to the bottle in his hands. “And he has the fancy hooch.”
Largely unnoticed, Aurelis chuckled at ‘fancy hooch’. She finally stepped away from the wall and took a seat on the other side of Revak. Making herself more visible to the group.
“So how many people are we dealing in here?” Blackwood asked, already knowing the desk was far, far too small to fit everyone now in there. He raised one of the scaled ridges above his eye as Phaelor made herself known, realising he’d need to make a headcount if this kept going. “Given the amount of hard liquor flowing in here, we could probably swap out credits for shots at this rate.”
“As long as it doesn’t turn into strip sabacc.” Aurelis noted. “ I didn’t bring any alcohol with me though. I will however pay my share.” She said leaning on her arms on the desktop.
Vez shot the redhead a look at the strip sabacc comment and started to say something. Then she took a look around the room, taking in the rest of the group, and apparently thought better of it.
“I only gamble with my life, or someone else’s money,” Jon snarked as he slid into a seat, setting out a round of shallow bowls as he did so. He knew just enough of Miho’s home planet to know the proper way to drink their beloved rice win, after all.
“And unless I’m mistaken, my being still alive is the reason we’re here.” His eyes breifly shot to Marius before settling back on Vez. “But that’s hardly a way to gree your city’s new Aedile. Aren’t I due a ceremony or a parade or something?”
“You’d know better than the rest of us,” Blackwood shrugged. “Only thing I got when I showed up was a cell and an interrogation. And that was after someone invited me.”
“I got sober,” Vez said. “For a certain value of sobriety, at least.”
“Intrigueing list of situations and or accomplishments upon arrival.” Aurelis quipped.
“Lawmakers, lawbreakers - You’ll never find a more mismatched rag tag band of survivors,” Blackwood said, a slight smile crossing his reptilian features. “Still, could be worse. At least we know what we are, and we’ve mostly accepted it save for the odd outburst of violence.” Blackwood considered again Rhan’s reaction to first understanding what he was and then, reaching into his coat, produced a hipflask and took a long swig.
“So what’s your story then?” he asked Aurelis.
<@186977617356783616>
“Oh, and here I am, a shining Knight of Allusis, paragon of justice, cast out amonsgt scoundrels,” Jon chuckled, pouring the rice wine into bowls one after the other. “But by all means kid, how’d you wind up way down here?”
“Kid?” Aurelis asked with a slight smirk. “ To answer the first question, my scoundrel-ness began 15 years ago for murder. To answer the second.” she looked at Jon,“ I work for the High Councilor.”
<@230809550297497600> <@326457564994994176>
Jon rolled his eyes, passing her a bowl of rice wine. “Of course you do. We all do in one form or another. What grand errand has Mihoshi sent you to Tythas for?”
Aurelis wrinkles her nose, but accepts the rice wine,“ Apparently to be social, and meet others within her circle.” she shrugged,“ I killed my Uncle when I was 17 to be clearer, he was making manipulative deals with the Pyke Syndicate that would have affected my family. It was spun to me flat out murdering him out of the blue.”
Jon leaned back in his chair.
Ah, he thought with instant clarity, so that’s how it is, eh Miho?
He’d heard of the High Councilor’s penchant for taking in ‘orphans.’ Well, who was he to interfere?
“Well,” Jon said aloud. “I think you’ve come to the perfect place then. Deal us all a hand, Blackwood, and let’s see if Aurelis can gamble worth a damn.”
Revak took a sip of his own drink as he passed up offers for the fermented rice beverage. “Vez in sobriety? Liz will be both disappointed and proud of the news. Jon, whats been keeping Mi… Miho… MihoShishi busy these days?”
Aurelis leaned casually back in her chair,“ She’s become High Councilor, and frequently buried under mountains of work. Trust me, I’ve seen her desk.”
Jon shrugged. “More or less what she said, Rev. War and civil war keeps one busy.”
Revak reflected, took another sip and grinned, “there always seems to be something happening that pulls the High Councilor away from a quiet evening alone.”
“Oh? And how do you know so much about Mihoshi’s evenings, hmm?” Jon asked with a smug smirk.
Revak smirked. He tossed a few credits onto the table. “Miho and Liz blew up a mansion their last time out. I had gotten wind of it one night while sifting through battleplans. That required my immediate attention.”
Jon snorted as he placed his bet, and whispered to Marius: “And she wants to criticize us? She really is Odan-Urr’s mother.” <@248237225202941964>
“ I guess that makes me the crazy aunt?” Aurelis smirked, placing her own bet, she looked up at Vez,“ But maybe not the wildest.” <@371402534973341696>
In the midst of dealing the cards after accepting his own small bowl of sake, Marius chuckled. His lips curved into a wry smirk.
“Be glad the criticism going your way doesn’t tangentially include the headaches your father caused her,” the Shadow replied to the newest Aedile in Odan-Urr.
“I don’t know, I haven’t committed any war crimes or slept with any royals,” Vez said. “That I can remember, at least.”
“That implies someone else in here has done one, the other, or both…so who wants to claim the honors.”
“Eh, not necessarily in the room. But yeah.”
Jon snorted. “Not in the room, no; but you’re new here right, Aurelis? How much do you know about the situation going on the Burmessians right now?”
Blackwood exhaled slowly, mulling over the question. After concluding they’d have to be considered people for it to count as a war crime, and would have to explain that to a likely very angry and increasingly alcohol fuelled group, he opted to keep his silence.
Marius snorted underneath his breath, not at all surprised that the conversation had turned to this topic as he finished dealing the cards.
Though, he did have to correct one part of that. “To be fair, he was sleeping with royals long before committing war crimes. At least, the assassination of Prime Minister type. The definition of ‘War Crimes’ tends to vary from System to System.”
Aurelis’s eyes shifted from her cards to Marius,“ Royals, as in multiple?” she asked, pulling the card from the discard, and setting another onto the stack. She took a sip of the rice wine,“ Expensive taste.” she commented casually. Taking a gander at the others with cards in their hands.
<@248237225202941964>
Marius shrugged, running his fingers along the Braille lines to tell him what was in his hand. “Only the Empress is confirmed, and not by my father. Despite how it seems to oppose what is known about his personality, my father doesn’t brag about liaisons. There were rumors he was sleeping with others, but they don’t seem to hold any substance.”
He took a sip from the small bowl and hummed appreciatively.
Aurelis stared for a good minute until her turn came again, picking from the face down pile, she kept this card. “ I think I’m actually impressed now.” she commented, a ghost of a smile gracing her features,“ That is no mean feat, to capture the eye of The Empress. Do you know if that was a one-time deal? Or, a continual situation.”
“I remember Rhan’s apprentice - your sibling I believe, Marius - commenting she didn’t know how many branches of her family she had thanks to Celevon,” Blackwood chuckled, taking another swig from her hipflask. “That’s gotta have led to a few surprises.”
“It was a continual situation, going on for well over a year now, hence my comment about his sleeping with royals not really being news,” the Shadow replied as he threw down two cards and drew fresh ones.
He chuckled at Blackwood’s comment. “Aye, Sirra became our sibling by a Blood Ritual. She’s met everyone in the family save Aunt Alessia, but she refuses to believe us.”
-# <@326457564994994176>
“… And people say my family relations are screwed up,” Blackwood said, still grinning. “I only know her in passing, but the impression I got was you’ve got enough people to start up your own nation by now.”
Marius paused in the act of taking a sip from his sake, clearly thinking it over. “A small town at most. Sirra does have a tendency toward melodrama at times. Truthfully, I’m surprised we don’t have more siblings.”
Aurelis was quiet now, listening with a half smile. High perception might note the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Xantros kept observing other people in the room. He made a mental note that Aurelis’ smile didn’t quite reach her eyes
“Not much in the way of exaggeration if it’s that many. Seriously, I’ve known Gand who had fewer direct siblings than that,” Blackwood said, taking two cards on his turn and considering his options. “All spell-slingers?”
“That’s the family altogether, not just siblings,” the Shadow explained, curiously glancing at the bottle that held a faint glow to his visualization through the Force. A blessing? Regardless, it wasn’t harmful. It took another moment to decipher Blackwood’s question. “No, there are a few of us who don’t use the Force.”
“Thanks, and sorry if that was a personal matter,” Blackwood said. “More professional curiosity than anything else. Given all that’s happened over the last thirty years, it’s good to hear about a bloodline that’s doing well.”
Xantros looked around and grinned evilly. He kept listening to conversations of other members of House Sunrider that took part in what was an unofficial welcome party organized for him and Jon Silvon. The Duros was aware that he was not a particularly active participant of the event that he was one of the main guests of. The truth was that he did not like social gatherings like these. He was an introvert and he definitely preferred keeping to himself rather than speaking with other people. Spending last three years with a very small and quiet crew of his freighter in the Outer Rim did not help him adjust to meetings that involved a large group of chatty people.
Even more importantly, the Force Adept was new to the Clan and to the House. Very few people were familiar to him and it made it even more difficult for him to join the chat. He did not feel comfortable talking with people tht he did not know. What they would talk about? Weather forecast in an underwater city? Current politics in a star system that he was not familiar with at all? Results of last matches in whatever sports league was operating in Tythas city, if any?
There was so much that Xantros had to catch up with before he would become a valuable part of House Sunrider and Clan Odan-Urr. And all he had to do was spending hours on useless chit-chat and small talk. He would love to spend that time in his personal quarters instead, reading more and more reports about the current situation of the Clan. The only benefit of the party was the fact that it was a perfect opportunity to observe people in an informal situation. He would prefer it happening after he memorized dossiers of all members of the House, but he could do nothing about that.
Xantros sighed and put an empty glass on the table he was sitting at. A single Corellian ale was enough for him despite the fact the party lasted few hours. He did not like alcoholic beverages. As everything else, they were nothing more than a tool to achieve his goals. He would drink them if necessary, but never like them with a sole exception of Alderaan wines, but they were virtually impossible to import and, as such, extremely expensive. Few wine varieties transported out of the planet before its destruction never shared the same delicate scent and taste when cultivated on other planets with almost the same climate and soil. Maybe it was more about brand and qualities associated with Alderaan and not the scent or the taste themselves.
The Duros stood up and nodded to say goodbye to everyone and left the Quaestrix office. He returned to his quarters, took an evening sonic shower and laid down on the bed,wondering what the next days would bring for him and the House. Whatever it would be, he had to sleep for long enough to have fresh mind and to be ready for any challenges that might appear in the future.
Xantros was not the only person in the room who knew absolutely nobody at the start of this little gathering over rice wine and sabaac on a table far far too small for this many people. Aurelis, like the Duros had been mostly observant, inserting small little comments in answer to any questions tossed her way, and answered with the question,‘ what about you.’ more than once. Learning about the little circle she had a feeling she’d be seeing far more frequently thanks to the directives of the High Councillor. She’d imbibed several drinks, punctuated by water, by the end of the gathering.
When she’d parted ways with the group she’d stepped into the hall and stretched her arms with a long breath. It hadn’t been too terrible, maybe a little uncomfortable, but they were unruly enough to at least get along with, and apparently had absolutely zero qualms about her criminal record, a number of them had far worse and that their basic response to her’s had essentially been ,‘ oh is that all?’ had been thoroughly amusing.
Maybe she wouldn’t chew out Mihoshi later on like she’d planned to, maybe she would, depending on how smug Miho would be when she returned to the High Councilor’s wing.
The rest of the impromptu passed with little incident, at least by Blackwood’s standards. Easing back and playing cards for several hours against the others - measured mostly by the decreasing volume in his hip flask - Blackwood spent the time trading stories back and forth between them. Keeping his cards close to his chest both literally and metaphorically, he made a steady note of all that had been experienced here without divulging much of his own eventful career. Even so, some things did give him a start. Crystalline warriors formed from sorcery, insane cyborg crusades, repeated infighting across the system, mass regicide, unending battles, and even a Sith Temple. The content wasn’t surprising, but the scale? His work had often been done in the shadows, usually with his superiors sweeping it under the rug or pretending it didn’t exist.
The idea that he had been quietly hunting down cults in the Corellian underworld, or beating abominations to death in back alleys, when there had been entire armies waging a barely hidden war on the Outer Rim put him ill at ease. As he thought on how long this might have been going on for, it felt as if there was a lump of cold steel in his gut at how much time he had wasted in CorSec. After several hours of stories, it was enough to make Blackwood start thinking.
“Thanks for the drinks, and the cards,” Blackwood said at length, taloned hands neatly filing the cars back into order and placing them back in the middle of the table. “And for the stories, of course.”
With a nod and a smile, he headed for the door. Rhan had been right, socialising with the Clan had been enlightening. He started to head back toward where he had been quartered, then changed his mind, neatly turning and taking the long walk toward the House’s records room. Putting a smoke in his mouth and lighting up, Blackwood darkly reflected that he had some serious catching up to do.
Revak took one last sip of whiskey before he stood, acknowledged the remaining patrons with a nod, and placed his glass on a side table. It was almost time to cover his shift, as well as a few others, at the Tipsy Tusken. The murmurs had increased since the assassination, and the cantina made for the ideal spot to listen in on current events and prospects. As much as he enjoyed the old days of heroism and intrigue, his current life of shadows and seclusion gave him a finger on the pulse of the lesser-known mechanisms that functioned throughout the system. Mechanisms that even he admits fell to the wayside due to more pressing events. Pouring drinks was his way of both staying in the know and suppressing his guilt for what he felt had been avoidable mistakes. His mind often mulled over the “what-ifs.”
He approached the exit to the landing pad, but was stopped by security. The officer, thin and youthful, scanned Revak’s face and smiled. Stepping aside, he spoke in a slightly nervous yet energetic tone. “You are free to proceed, Mr. K’Urr, sir.” Revak smiled and patted the young officer’s shoulder. “Thank you… Excellent job. Most would have just let me pass.” The officer swallowed hard. “Sir, it’s my first shift, and I was told to scan everybody who was making their way through the port.” “As you should,” Revak replied, “if you hadn’t, I would have been suspicious. Have a good evening, Officer.” “You… ah, you too, Ambassador.” The officer turned red, but was smiling from ear to ear.
The runway lights flashed against the dark obsidian paint that covered the hull of his Civilian Star Courier. The ramp extended down with a thud. Revak removed his cloak as he ascended and hung it on a hook inside the small seating area designed to function as a lounge. He turned left towards the cockpit, entered a personal security code into the keypad, and the heavy door opened, revealing the pilot. “Time for the Tusken, Colonel,” Revak said to the pilot, who nodded in acknowledgement. Lieutenant Colonel Jace Merrick had once flown for the Republic but left to join the rebellion at the height of Imperial rule. He was also Revak’s personal pilot during his time as Consul, during which he had only heard him utter maybe two or three sentences. Upon stepping down from his command, Revak retained Colonel Merrick as his personal pilot, who responded with a slight smile and the words, “Thank you, sir.”
Revak went back to the lounge and slid down into the supple leather. He kicked off his boots and closed his eyes to catch a nap before work. Revak had always found the hum of the spooling engines calming and had always taken this time to clear his mind. The shuttle slowly rose into the air, then, with a punch, cut through the evening sky. Dense clouds began moving in from the west, and the air exchangers pulled in the smell of rain. Revak loved the smell of rain.