“`The invitation was gilded, pressed aurodium into fine parchment. "The Regents cordially invites you”, it began. For reasons known only to yourself, you have accepted the invitation… Shortly there after, you found yourself ushered into a small shuttle and whisked away to foreign space.
You arrive out of hyperspace to this secret location. Your shuttle slowly adjusts course. The pilots are skilled and have made the journey smooth. Through a small porthole you catch a glimpse of a truly gargantuan space station. The massive structure glitters like a pearl. Three massive mooring arms stretch out as if to embrace the void of space. A sharp, impossibly tall spire looms high above the rest of the platform. The rounded base shines with the same rich yellow glow as the embossed aurodium lettering on the invitation in your pocket.
As your shuttle approaches, the bulk of the installation completely fills the viewport. The plates of quadranium, durasteel, and doonium stretch out beyond your eyes ability to see. You pass freighters and warships in various stages of completion. A flight of clipped wing TIE fighters passes by you close enough to inspect your shuttle and then continues along on their diligent patrol.
After a short while, your shuttle touches down in a hangar large enough to harbor a large cruiser.
A soft feminine voice comes over the shuttle’s speakers. “Welcome to the Prism, home of Arx Capital Exchange.”
The shuttle’s door opens, revealing an illuminated path of green hashmarks on the hangars deck. The lights pulse, beckoning you forth.
What do you do?“`
Kamjin descended the ramp from the shuttle and heard to welcoming voice over from the intercoms. He took a moment to look around at the hangar floor. Clearly Thran had imbedded speakers under the deck plating cause the voice didn’t echo throughout the massive hangar. The voice sounded eerily familiar. Kamjin could only assume that Thran had paid an actress to record the lines.
Thankfully, as the Justicar, he didn’t have to worry about the finances of the Brotherhood but clearly serious credits had been invested in this facility. Not sensing any alarming concerns, he opted to follow the illuminated path beaconing him forward into the installation.
Thran fidgeted with the console in the arm of his chair. It was positioned at the end of a long table constructed of lacquered ebony wood. The table was adorned with all manner of fanciful tropical flowers, arranged in haute couture vases and bowls. At each of the 10 place settings was an array of dining utensils, flanking fine porcelain flatware placed upon aurodium chargers. Several attendants made last minute corrections, turning glasses a fraction of a degree or ensuring distance between the silverware pieces were perfectly uniform. They were clad in black and grey.
One such attendant brought a tray to the Lord Regent, it carried a single crystalline snifter, half full of a dark ochre liquid. He took it in hand, supped from it, and breathed deep.
Impatience bubbled and boiled within him, like an untended kettle moments away from screaming out. His eyes turned up to the banquet hall’s door. It was ringed in a sharp green light.
Hopefully, his guests would follow the light to the threshold and join him shortly. He couldn’t much stand to wait for others.
Kamjin strolled into the room, wrinkling this nose at the scent of the tropical flowers. He was far to accustomed to the sterile, recycled, air of Imperial ships at this point in his life.
“I see you spared no expense, Thran.”
The Voice of the Brotherhood sauntered down the ramp of the shuttle. He let out a soft whistle.
“You could throw one hell of a party in here,” he mused to himself as his eyes locked on to the thrumming green lights embedded in the floor. “Oh good, idiot proof directions. I guess that means the hutt won’t get lost at least.”
He followed the lights purposefully, a faster than a normal walking speed, but not quite running either. They led to a doorway which slid open at his arrival. He let out second soft whistle.
“You already were allowed to build this thing, you don’t need to sweet talk the Grand Master into it,” he said to Thran as he crossed the threshold. “Ah! Kamjin! You did in fact find your way here,” he added.
“The glowing green lights made it impossible to miss it,” Kamjin bit back with dry reply.
“Thankfully. I was worried you were color blind,” Idris said slapping the Justicar on the shoulder. “Already impressed Thran, amazing attention to the details.”
Kamjin stared at Idris. “Your concern is appreciated.”
Thran nodded and rose from his chair.
“Thank you, Idris. We’ve spared no expense.”
The Regent strode over to join the others.
“Welcome to The Prism.”
“You’ve created quite the technological masterpiece, Thran.”
“Indeed. Perhaps, someday we will see the full capability of this station on display. Until then, I’ll mind my pride.” Thran turned to the wider room.
“We have staff at hand. Please get a drink. Have some hors d'ouvres There is a meal planned for later, so don’t fill yourself immediately.”
Kamjin moved closer to Thran. “What are you planning with all this pageantry? It’s not like you to just summon the Council for finger food,” Kamjin asked Thran in a hushed whisper.
“You would question my motives? Can I not invite my peers and colleagues away from their work to celebrate in a shared triumph without accusation?” Thran said with a smirk.
Kamjin glared at Thran. He knew now Thran had something planned but he was going to refuse to reveal it before the time was right. Ever the showman. “I question everything when it comes to you, Thran. I don’t like being surprised,” Kamjin responded in his hush tones.
“Wisdom, it seems, may have finally caught up with you. Relax…I wouldn’t dare stain my brand new station with your blood. You’re perfectly safe. Ask Idris. He’s already had his spies about the place, I’m sure.”. Thran patted Kamjin on the shoulder
Idris popped his head between the two. “Our spies. They are our spies,” he said before withdrawing to get a drink.
“And what good spies they are… What are you drinking today?” Thran said.
“Perhaps you’ve acquired a taste for Namana Brandy?” He added
“Ah, you must be missing home. Sounds lovely,” Idris replied.
An attendant brings a snifter to Idris
“As any true son of Bakura would, being so far removed from it. Were I ever to be without a case of brandy near by, I suppose I would miss dear Bakura so. Alas, Namana is so much more than a taste of home.” Thran departed Kamjins company to share in that of the Voice’s.
“In many ways, I would equate Namana to your Beskar. It is a symbol of our people and it permeates our tradition. Though where your tradition saves one from blaster fire, ours saves one from shyness. Cheers.” Thran raised a glass.
Idris raised his own and clinked it against Thran’s. “To home.”
Kamjin rolled his eyes and grabbed an offered glass of liquor and took a drink. “Yes, Idris. Our spies…” Kamjin said, knowing full well he had his own network of operatives.
“That is what I said,” Idris replied.
“Morgan Sorenn. What do you know about her?” Thran said shifting the conversation.
“What with the dramatic increase in Synergy gear ending up in the hands of people who did not purchase it…I find myself curious about the new head of the Shroud Syndicate.” He elaborated.
Kamjin ignored the fact that Idris clearly missed the sarcasm. “Seems to be above board. Situations like this are usually the result of corruption in middle management.”
“You’ll forgive my candor, but one would expect the head of the Shroud Syndicate to be very much below board. No?” Thran raised an eyebrow at Kamjin.
“I’ll rephrase it to be that their agendas align with the Brotherhood’s.”
“I see.” Thran remarked.
“Well, one suppose’s that’s more than what one knew before.” He took a sip of his drink.
He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth.
“You already have your own opinion, don’t you,” Kamjin replied, recognizing one of Thran’s ticks.
Thane was late. Maybe. Depends on what timeframe you were to use. As far as he was concerned, he arrived precisely when he meant to but anyone left waiting would be…perturbed.
That’s a them problem.
As the Firrerreo eyed the Prism, he couldn’t help but compare it to the Arx Capital Exchange he had run previously. This was…so much oppulence. More than his practical sensibilities would permit. But, it made sense on paper for what ACE had become. He guessed.
With a sigh, the Deputy Grand Master followed the green hashmarks and eventually spotted his peers. (In the professional capacity, at best.) He gave an upward nod to Idris, before a minimal effort down nod to Kamjin and a standard down nod to Thran.
“Thane, good of you to join us. Welcome to the Prism. Kamjin and I were just discussing…well, nevermind that.” Thran raised a hand to beckon an attendant.
“Can we get you a refreshment after your journey?” Thran asked.
“Not required,” Thane replied to the offer. While normally he needed some…mental lubrication to deal with Kamjin’s existence, he could suffer through this tour without.
Kamjin gave a curt nod to the prior Justicar, suppressing the scowl that threatened to form on his face for Thran’s politicking.
“Ah. Yes. A man of few words and needs. Saves more for the lot of us, no?” Thran smiled.
“Once the others arrive, we can commence the tour. I think you’ll find great interest in our production capabilities. Be sure to muster up some engaging questions.” Thran bowed and rejoined Idris.
“I mean this as a compliment…I think you’d lose the race of most boring guest here.” he half whispered to the Mandalorian.
The doors opening behind Thane drew everyone’s attention, in their own way. A small squad of security walked in — gilded shiny armors, military stomp-stomp-stomp and all, real protecting the Council types — bringing with them a woman in a shaggy brown longcoat, black gloves, leather bodysuit and tall combat boots. The black eyepatch hiding her right eye was barely visible underneath her salt and pepper hair. Her expression was somewhere between exasperated and amused as her good eye scanned around at the Prism’s interior, clearly amused by the unnecessarily gaudy designs.
“I apologize for the intrusion, my Lords,” the squad leader said in an even tone, clearly serious about his job. Though, he was never to disturb either the Regent or any of the Councilors so brazenly. He usually called his direct superior first. “This person was found in cargo in Bay B-12 disrupting security and cargo transfers. She was summoned by your Lordship and…” He looked at Thran and, as if his words failed him, blinked several times, shook his head and looked at each of them, confused.
“Mind trickery.” Morgan whispered mockingly, making circles around her temples with her fingers. “These ones really do have some good training, though, not like Evant’s old guard. An Inquisitor would have a really hard time with them, that’s for sure. I’m impressed.”
“Weapons!” The officer ordered as the squad snapped into readiness, blasters aimed at Morgan. “My Lords, I apologize, we will remove this interloper immediately.”
“I have an invitation,” she smiled at him and, with hands raised at head level, snapped her left wrist as the gilded invitation appeared out of nowhere. She pointed at it and pouted.
Thran cranes his neck to watch the scuffle.
“Excuse me.” He said to a silent Idris and turned to the newcomer.
He took a few steps forward. He raised a hand to dismiss the guards.
“You must be Morgan Sorenn. Your reputation precedes you…I am afraid we have not been properly introduced. I am Thran Occasus-Palpatine, Regent.” He said. “Please, join us.” He gestured to the rest of the assembled councilors.
“See?” She smirked at the officer, took her weapons and holstered them before joining the others. “Morgan Sorenn, Captain, and now Herald apparently for the second time.”
She nodded to Idris, whom she only saw supervising the tournament arena a while back. He was armed and armored like a Terentatek, but in hot-rod red. Kamjin she knew from their brief fight in the Rancor-infested faux-jungle of that selfsame Tournament. She gave him a bit more of a respectful nod, he was a decent opponent, despite being what she really dislikes most — a judge. And finally…
“Thane, good to see you again. Lovely outfit.” She gave him a mischievous look. A customary verbal jab was in order, as a greeting between friends, but not in this company. “Great place you got here, Mr. Regent.”
“You are kind to say as much.” Thran said. “If it’s not too forward, I have a request of you. While you are here, if you could perhaps do your best to stifle your nature for pilfering and larceny…consider it an accord between capitalists. I’d hate for our friendship to begin with you being incarcerated for grand theft.”
“Rude of you to assume I didn’t stifle it, but I understand.” She smiled and shrugged. “Never can trust a pirate, am I right?”
“You can trust them to server their self-interest,” Kamjin muttered as a response
“Indeed. May we get you a drink?”
“Dark elixir, if you have it. Erin makes a mean booze.”
An attendant appears, seemingly from nowhere. They have the requested beverage on the tray, pass it to Morgan, and quickly departs.
The click clack of heels against polished deck plating was a subdued entrance compared to Morgan’s, which suited the Headmistress just fine. The one upside to Council functions was that it was a situation in which Alethia felt no need to dominate the social situation. If she could see where all that funding had gone instead of the Collegium, well, so much the better.
“Hello, gentlemen, Morgan.”
“It’s nice to see your return to the Headmistress role, Alethia,” Kamjin said by way of greeting the new arrival.
“I’m nothing if not difficult to dispose of. How have you been?”
“If it isn’t my favorite Deuce. This’ll be an interesting tour.” Morgan took a sip of her drink as she leaned against the table.
“I have survived,” Kamjin offered without further explanation. “You seem to have as well during your time amongst the Clans again.”
“The trick is to never leave Arx.” Alethia’s smile didn’t fade as she shifted her gaze to Morgan, or at least what appeared to be left of the Queen of the Shroud. But she quickly zeroed in on the drink.
“We’re starting with the elixer? I didn’t realize it was going to be that kind of party.”
“Booze made with dark side alchemy…allegedly? It’s the only way to keep my fingers to myself. If I don’t get enough of it, I might just steal Thran’s skug-tower from under him.” She laughed at her own dumb joke.
“That is a clever marketing ploy and nothing more. ” Thran said, slugging back the last of his sweet fruit brandy.
“Right. I believe we’ve all assembled. At least those of that cared to answer our personal mail…I believe it’s time for the tour. After which, we have a fine meal planned. Castilon Sea Bass. Delicious. We’ve spared no expense. If we have any stragglers we can pick them up at a station. Shall we?” Thran gestured to a small pocket door, which had opened.
“`Behind the door, there was a platform. At the platform a waiting maglev train, consisting of a single car, hummed quietly.
A squadron of attendants appeared, lining the path to the tram. Each held a pillow, upon which an ACE branded Hard Hat was placed.”`
“Our attorneys have informed me that proper PPE is required during the tour, as this is an active production facility.” Thran said.
“I thought ACE was its own insurer,” Alethia said. “Couldn’t you just have the underwriter shot?”
She appeared to be joking, but at any rate she didn’t hesitate to take the proffered hard hat.
Thane offered his best ‘you cannot be serious’ face when the PPE was presented.
“Please, just wear it. It’s better than a lawsuit,” Kamjin said, donning one of the hard hats.
Idris raised a hand.
“Does my bucket count? It is beskar, and highly more fashionable,” he asked as he finished his drink with one hand and tapped on his helmet with the other.
Thran paused. He scratched his chin.
“I’ll allow it. On religious grounds.” He said.
“Much appreciated,” Idris said with a thankful nod of his head. He slid his helmet back on.
Thane, begrudgingly, placed the protective gear upon his head. He immediately assumed an expression that screamed ‘I hate this, I hate you, I hate everything’ all at once.
Kamjin, taking note of Thane’s discomfort offered up, “At least K'vin doesn’t have us signing liability waivers.”
“I say if our glorious leader-to-be can handle it, so should we all.” Morgan winked at Thane and donned her own helmet. “Though, I think a holo of a Mandalorian wearing PPE over beskar deserves an oil on canvas more than anything.”
“You paint?” Kamjin asked.
“Good…I’m surprised that fit Kamjin, given the size of his head. Onwards!” Thran waved the others along and headed towards the waiting monorail car
Kamjin gave his hard hat a little wiggle. It seemed to have the normal amount of give.
Idris gave Kamjin a pat on the shoulder and whispered, “Don’t worry, it’s not freakishly huge.” He then made his way to the monorail car.
Kamjin gave Idris a confused look. “I never had an issue with any other standard Imperial gear.”
Just then, Thane passed Kamjin, still with his look of discontent, but he paused to grasp the Justicar’s shoulder. “Just…mostly huge,” Thane assured him before heading to the monorail himself.
Kamjin followed along, fiddling with his hard hat that he knew fit perfectly fine.
“`You approach the monorail car. It has a black exterior with gold accent lines, running the length of the vehicle. The door of the sleek and super futuristic monorail opens, revealing a comfortable cabin, with padded seats adorned with small pillows, soft plush carpeting, polished metal. It has that "new monorail” smell.
Between each set of lounging seats, there is a cooler. Bottles of cold champagne sweat in fear of their coming consumption. In the center of the cabin, a short table is arrayed with all manner of canapes: Blini, with sour cream and caviar. A crisp bread round with olive tapenade, peels shrimps with citrus and herb dipping sauces.
The monorail is piloted by a droid, secured behind a glass partition. On the cabin side of the partition there is a small podium. Upon the podium rests a headset microphone.“`
“Not for a while. Usually I’m the canvas.” Morgan arched her neck to show a multitude of intricate tattoos along it’s length. She turned her attention to the monorail car as the group entered. “You know, I’m starting to figure out what kind of guy you are, Thran.” She plopped down on one of the empty seats and crossed her legs, drink still in hand. “This is comfort.”
“I assure you. He spared no expense.”
“So we’ve heard,” Alethia said, slinking into an open seat next to a bottle of bubbly.
“When one entertains representatives from, say, Kuat-Entralla or Sienar-Jaemus, or those who are quite enraptured by the heights of luxury and may summer on Canto Bight, one finds it of maximum utility to present all the comforts they desire so as to give one a leg up when it comes time to negotiate. Ergo…today we travel in style” Thran said gesturing to the cabin
“Right…I suppose it’s time.” Thran said taking his place at the podium and dining the headset microphone.
Once everyone was seated the doors of the monorail closed, with a firm clunk and a pressurizing hiss. The soft light in the cabin dimmed. There was a subtle popping sound and a fan kicked on. The cabin half filled with fog. A small remote droid descended from the ceiling. Electronic music began playing at a low volume. The music swelled in a crescendo.
The remote began its preprogrammed routine. Beams of harmless, multicolored light filled the cabin.
“Ladies…ladies…and Gentlemen…gentlemen.” Thran’s voice echoed in the PA system. “Arx Capital Exchange…change…proudly welcomes you to their headquarters…quarters. Welcome …come…to…to… The Prism…ism…” On the last word, the monorail began moving forward.
Thran scanned the eyes of the other passengers. They lacked the sort of thrilled captivation he was expecting of such pageantry. He slipped the headset microphone off. He’d spare himself the wasted breath and not run through the whole show.
“We have a whole presentation planned, but, uhhh, It’s still being refined. But, uhh, you get the idea. Big energy and all. I’ll just, uhh, point stuff out as we go. Feel free to eat and drink and chat among yourselves.” He said before vacating the podium.
He scooped a handful of shrimp into a small duraplast and sat down at the front of the cabin. He stared mournfully out the window as the monorail moved along.
Morgan clapped for a brief moment, just enough to show respect for a good showman, not enough to get to his head, though. “I love the show so far. It’ll hook investors.” And mean a lot of targets for her Syndicate to pillage, which in turn gets them to rely on the Brotherhood’s armed forces for protection, and so on, and so forth. A scam as old as time. “Tell us more.”
Kamjin whispered to Morgan, “That’s the right approach. If he doesn’t get it out now he’ll just become anxious and explode later. Besides, he may get to the point for this whole event.” Kamjin turned to Thran. “Could you finish the presentation? Best for us to get the experience the investors would get.”