Standing in the turbolift with Uji, Thane stood, basking in their usual comfortable silence. When the doors opened he would be Renatus again. So, he enjoyed these moments as much as someone like him could.
He held a datapad within his grasp and reviewed the most recent change in the Council’s composition. Howlader had apparently had enough of them and Erinyes would be refocusing her efforts. The new presence filling in for Idris after their musical chairs act was most pressing.
Thane didn’t know him. Didn’t entirely understand how he had grasped onto the position. But he would know, and soon. Because Thane didn’t like not knowing things. Hence this meeting. Well, and the fact that they just lost decades of research in exchange for the location of the Collective.
He was so tired of them. Ready to end the threat and bring a measure of safety to the clans he now held responsibility for.
Uji watched his friend in the reflection of the turbolift’s doors. For a moment Renatus seemed at ease, but the calm slipped away as his thoughts drifted back to darker places, revealed in small movements most people would miss.
“You are brooding again” Uji said flatly, having already read the signs in his friends actions.
“Is that not what Grand Masters are supposed to do?” Thane offered with a raised brow.
“Has it ever worked for your predecessors?” Uji glanced to the side with a matching raise of his brow.
“Fair enough.”
Masahiro sat in the Council chamber, a fur cloak draped over his traditional Vatali attire as he pored over the array of dataslates and the glass screen presented ahead of him. Various connections and conclusions drawn between the Clans, a multitude of reports, and data collated from Collective movement throughout the Galaxy. An idle hand rested on his cane, rocking it back and forth before he caught sight of the indicator on the turbolift.
“Ah, the others are arriving then.” He murmured as he returned to his notes.
Initially the Sephi-Arkanian had been overwhelmed in his position, but quickly adapted. It had been nothing outside of his work as High Councilor of Odan-Urr, nor his station as a Vatali noble, he was simply given more freedom in how he acted to achieve his goals, not that the Temple’s restrictions had overly swayed him previously.
The door to the council chamber slid open with a whoosh of compressed air as Turel strode in rubbing his temple with one hand while squinting at a datapad with his other. He wore field researcher attire of a jacket over an undershirt, hide boots and kneepads with a utilitarian belt containing some Collegium tools of the trade. He used the excuse of having the high republic, “aggressively Jedi”, robes he had commissioned on back order as an excuse to eschew formal robes much to the chagrin of some of the academy staff.
“Oh hey Masahiro,” the human remarked as he found his way to his seat, relieved to have a moment alone with a familiar face before Thane and Uji arrived to start another resting grumpy face competition.
<@236356564125089792>
“Turel.” He returned as he set his dataslates aside and tapped his cane.
“You look absolutely worn out.” The half-Sephi said with a chuckle as he looked the man over and rolled his shoulders back.
“Yeah between the archives being almost unusable with all this A.I. nonsense and the backlog of paperwork, course overhauls and project approvals I don’t know how Alethia did it.” Turel stared off into the distance for a moment. Teaching a few courses at the Praxeum while doing some freelance work for Sentinel Network the past few years in semi-retirement had made him soft apparently. He hadn’t felt this ‘I’m always drowning’ feeling since leaving High Councilor.
“There are fun parts to be sure,” the Headmaster continued, “like the research expeditions when I’m able to break away.” Turel reflexively glanced back at the door to ensure they were still alone. “But anyway, enough about me, how are you holding up in your new position?”
“One would assume I was never ‘assassinated’. Little rest, barely any personal time, high profile company more often than not, and as much research and subterfuge as either the Temple or noble court could provide. Tracking down this Collective and their extant resources is– something.” Masahiro leaned his head back and stared up into the void above the pair of them.
“In all honesty though, I’m pretty well,” he said with a chuckle as he tilted back down to look at the Headmaster, “the workload is comparable to leading Odan-Urr through the Quermian conflict, a lot of information gathering and delegation.”
At last, the doors opened once more and this time Renatus and Uji strode through. The Grand Master’s black-gold gaze quickly found Masahiro and locked on, not wavering as he closed the distance and found his own seat.
Taking his perch, he allowed a long silence to hang over them like a curtain before twisting his neck towards Turel and offering a nod. “Sorenn, looking well.”
Uji took his time, every other step accompanied by the metallic clack of his cane striking the ground.
As he passed Turel, he reached out, his grip firm against the man’s shoulder for a brief moment. It was a familiar greeting from ages past, gone just as quickly.
He continued to his seat, easing himself down as he took in the newest councilor.
The new head of the Inquisition did not strike him as particularly dangerous or imposing, at least not in the way their predecessor had. Looks could be deceiving.
“Are we waiting for the others to make introductions?”
Masahiro rolled his cane against his seat as Uji spoke, his eyes set on the man, before they returned Renatus’ glare with a bemused look. First he sighed, then rolled his shoulders to drop his cloak behind him into the seat as his gaze broke to Turel.
“Turel, sweetheart, it doesn’t escape me that you never did introduce me when you took me on as your Praetor. Are you ashamed of me?” The Sephi-Arkanian jested.
“I have no qualms about introducing myself several times, if need be, as I’m sure the rest of you are well acquainted by now,” he continued, “Masahiro Haku, High Councilor of Clan Odan-Urr, that was until I was unceremoniously gunned down in the courtyard of the Praxeum and the War Councilor assumed my mantle to flush out my assailant.”
He flicked one of the several datapads arrayed around him sending information to the central dias.
“An act which has plunged Kiast further into civil war as the Acolytes of Urr and both Houses Sunrider and Hoth withdraw support from the Vatali Empress.” He sighed and flicked another datapad, sending reports from Taldryan and Vizsla to the screen. “Such civil wars as which seem to be the bane of The Brotherhood at large, currently, as Clan Vizsla and Fero duke it out for dominance over Zsoldos, and the Taldryan Republic faces continuous infighting.” -# <@185936112441622529> <@272527052396298242> <@185939710005215232>
“Such a sob story,” Morgan’s pouty, mocking voice echoed from the open door to the chamber — a side door, hidden into the very expensive permacrete. She made a small boo-hoo gesture as she walked around a large, decorated pillar. “Who cares? That’s how you keep them busy fighting each other while you handle your business.” She shrugged her shoulders, her usually convention-breaking, dirty long coat flapping with the motion. Leather pants, high-lipped boots, worn gloves, a tight turtleneck that seemed not to hide much of her physique at all. The only thing clean on her were her face and hair, the rest had seem heavy use. Oh, and the eyepatch. Every bit the criminal warlord her reputation carried she was.
She nodded at Renatus, winked at Uji and said. “Morgan Sorenn,” she pointed at Turel, “yes, his sister. No, we’re not alike. Yes, I am more handsome, thanks for noticing.” The bravado and snark was strong, but her good eye emanated a strong sense of malice and rage to anyone with sense to notice it. She turned finally to her brother, checking out his outfit top to bottom, then at herself. “Nice. I retract my last statement.”
Turel shot a sassy stare back at Mashiro, “Yes Im sorry I didn’t parade you around Arx while hiding you from assassins. Ill arrange a Vatali style debutante ball for you next time.”
He paused for a moment unsure of how to respond to Morgan’s unprompted compliment. “Since we’re going around the room. Turel Sorenn, not as handsome as Morgan and as Im increasingly finding out as Headmaster not as smart as Alethia.” He made an exaggerated bow toward Mashiro.
Renatus’ head slowly turned to Turel with a look that screamed ‘must we?’ when he started the introductions. It almost looked pained.
Uji allowed a hint of a smirk to touch the corner of his lips as he nodded to Morgan in greeting. He listened to the others, leaning back in his chair as he took in the assembly. With Thane remaining silent, the older man leaned forward first.
“Uji Tameike.” The statement was accompanied by a small shrug as he looked to the Grandmaster, clearly intending to make things as awkward as possible.
A long suffering sigh was condensed into a single huff of air. “Lord Renatus,” he answered, not really putting any care or emphasis on it.
“Now, civil wars are not the least of our problems. The Collective has the most pressing solution, though.”
Masahiro bowed in his seat as Morgan introduced herself. Sharp eyes noting where she had entered and scouring the surface for any sign of blemish or control. Interesting he thought to himself as he took the woman’s appearance over, before her words caught up to him. Turel’s sister, then. His inner monologue continued for a brief moment before he spoke aloud.
“Mmm, definitely a parity between the two of you. Equally handsome, different directions. Would take either of you out for a wonderful evening,” He quipped with a chuckle, “maybe at this wonderful debutante ball your brother plans to throw for me?”
“However, if we let them all fight and burn one another out, what does that leave for us? What is a king without his kingdom?” He asked, circling back to her first comment.
When Uji and Renatus introduced themselves, the Sephi-Arkanian snapped back to business, affording them the same bow he had given Morgan. With a small flourish of his datapad and another chuckle at the thought of Turel throwing him a ball, the holo shifted between them, highlighting the Cor'neria System. Masahiro’s silver-green eyes narrowed as he regarded the data feed.
“Indeed, My Lord. As you’re no doubt aware, we’ve pinpointed the hounds to the Cor'neria Systen with our latest strategic strike, and the following destruction of S.T.A.R. we’ve rent a valuable tool from their hands, albeit from ours as well. If we act now we can pull one of the longest aching thorns from our sides before they recoup and try and infiltrate our network again.” He flicked the screen again, reports and images of the various conflicts across the years with the Collective.
“Leaning on my predecessor’s network for feedback, I can’t foresee the Clans having any particular,” he paused for a brief moment as mention of acquaintances passed over his datapad, “disputes regarding this action, considering the history. Though, it may exacerbate some of their civil disputes.” He stared at the central holotank for a moment as he rolled his cane in his left hand.
Morgan chuckled and lounged into her councilor chair, legs over one arm, back against the other. Clearly amused by the formality and bluster, she produced an fruit from one of her pockets, rubbed it against her shirt and bit down. She chewed loudly, drawing attention.
“Yes, let’s go kick those religious, single-minded, cultist psychos out of our galaxy. Oh wait, you were talking about the Collective. My brain went somewhere else.” Morgan’s distaste for any sort of dichotomy in the Force Orders was not a secret, and she was rarely this subtle about it.
“I wonder how long your kingdom will last when you get rid of the one thing keeping it together.” There was mocking in her tone. “I’m just waiting for that moment when it all goes tits up. Back to old infighting, ancient grudges, and bruised egos of old men who can’t even get a decent stiff.” She shrugged. “Better for me, I suppose. I can work with a civil war. More targets, more raids, more credits. Maybe we can blow up Kiast this time? Or Selen? Or that drukkhole Plagueis calls a homeworld. Or do we have some ace up our sleeve like a Collaborative. Or maybe a Communal? The Group! That’s a good name.”
Renatus sighed (he did that a lot) and turned to Morgan. “I refuse to be my predecessors. It is my intent to be a…protector for the clans we shepherd.”
Yeah, that was going to get laughs. He knew it. Was prepared for it. Still, it was his honest intention. He was so tired of the in-fighting and the leadership that—if not outright fostered it—allowed for it to happen. It was ‘good motivation’ and kept them under foot. They were capable of so much more, and so was the entirety of the Brotherhood if they could benefit from those capabilities.
And, you know, not nuke a decade of research data.
That still stung.
“As they say, walk softly and carry a big stick. We will have the biggest stick, but it will not be pointed at their throats.”
“It’s ‘big gun’, you ancient fossil.” Morgan laughed. She looked at each of her fellow Councilors in turn and added, “he is very inspiring, isn’t he? I’d follow him into hell.” Half of it was a joke pointed at Thane’s oratory (hopefully he gets a prompter), but the other half was genuine. She would. “There’s probably better booze there anyway.”
Uji’s fingers thrummed against the table at the mention of the Clans, his opinions on them rarely held in reserve over the past few years. But orders were orders.
“The Iron Navy is, and remains, prepared to deal with the threat of the Covenant when we choose to commit.”
“Allowing the Clans to assist would drastically reduce the difficulty and loss of life we would otherwise face. And perhaps the promise of assistance in addressing their local population issues might be… feasible.”
Renatus’ demeanor shifted and he leaned back in the chair, something more relaxed exuding from his aura.
A button press caused a compartment in the arm of his chair to hiss open, releasing foggy condensation wafting up. This was followed by a glass of amber liquid rising up before being grasped by ethereal tendrils that brought it to his hand mid motion, finishing with a long sip.
Thanks, Erinyes.
“We need to offer the clans something in return for their spent resources.”
As he shifted in his seat, Masahiro heard and promptly ignored Morgan’s derisive comments, as well as the bickering between her and Renatus. He shook his head and turned to give his attention while Uji spoke. He nodded in agreement with the Fist, a thin smirk creeping across his face, as he saw the Grandmaster had pulled himself a drink in his peripheral vision.
“Bread and circuses, then?” Masahiro quipped, turning back, an eyebrow raised as he caught sight of the tendrils.
He tapped his cane twice more and closed the datapoints he had presented to the rest of the council, a three-dimensional map of the galaxy taking its place on the holotank, with locations of interest, the Cor'neria system, and the Clans’ home systems highlighted.
“There will be uncontrolled variables,” Renatus remarked with the semblance of a sneer and audible annoyance. Though one such variable was of his own creating.
Dacien.
It was a safe assumption to think his predecessor would focus on Rath, especially with the location transmitted. That could be accounted for but not entirely. Too many question marks.
“You know we can’t read your mind, right?” Morgan spoke up at Thane’s comment. “Care to share with the class? Anything useful coming out of the Star Chamber these days? Personally I’d like to see what possibilities there are for raids. You know, cut off their supplies? Poison their water? Salt the earth? Steal their wives? They need those things to live so we take them. Then Uji can rush in with all the shiny armor and claim to be a hero all long.” She turned to Uji with a raised palm. “No offense.”
“None taken. I agree with your assessment. I am always willing to expend less critical resources to ensure the safety and continued effectiveness of reliable forces.”
Uji’s finger tapped lightly against the arm of his chair as he considered.
“Though, by now, you should have noticed I do not rush anywhere any longer.”
“They have cybernetics for that,” Renatus interjected, staring pointedly at his friend’s leg.
“You are well aware of my opinions concerning cybernetics,” Uji said, a note of mild disgust in his voice as he straightened the cuffs of his suit.
“But we should remain focused on the task at hand. Morgan, what forces are you willing to commit to these raids?”
“For that matter, what forces will the Inquisition send?”
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Masahiro’s head snapped towards Uji as he posed his question. A tap ignited the datapad he had laid flat moments ago and he pored over the information on the screen for a moment as he considered a response.
“Counter-intelligence operatives are ready to move at a moments notice, now that we know where we’re striking? We can focus on node interruption and disruption events. We’re already monitoring what’s moving in and out of the system with available assets. Inquisitors not deployed elsewhere in the galaxy can be re-routed toward Cor'neria in a phased build-up to avoid detection. If I had to put a thumb on assets, I’d say easily one-third of available Inquisitorius assets can be moved without disruption to overwatch and information maintenance within our borders.” He chimed as he swiped through estimates and last known cell operations.
“If we rely on assets within the Clans to police all information within their borders and comfortably relay information back to us? I’d estimate two-thirds of available Inquisitorius field operatives can move to the front.” Masahiro finished, sliding the datapad slightly off to the side.
“Morgan’s definitely going to have some spicier assets than me, however. We can disrupt communications, trade lanes, and astrogation, but the criminal underworld can bring in some… unexpected competition, firepower, and a lot of manpower to move contraband and recycle technology.” -# <@272527052396298242> <@690640377262243843>
“We have the tech from Nancora being jury-rigged on every ship we can scrounge. Maybe enough for a fleet.” Morgan replied to both of them. “But they aren’t any sort of frontliners. You put them in the front and you’ll either bleed credits or manpower faster than you can replenish them.” She shrugged and turned to Thane. “They’re pirates, smugglers and vagabonds. They don’t care about any sort of loyalty to you. But that also means they’re easily replaced. There’s always enough muscle.”
She took a moment to consider.
“There are things we can do and we already did some scouting. Easier to buy scan data from some smugglers than send scout ships.” She pulled up a map of the system on the holoprojector and pointed at several areas of interest. “These spots are the likely routes for their replenishment ships. We’re hitting those with every crew and ship willing to take on a bounty or job. But they’ll be spread out, so forget about extravagant rescues when your agents get snatched, Haku.” She turned to Uji. “Same to you.”