Kamjin stood anxiously in the massive complex’s hangar bay. He had an important, though seldom needed, duty to perform. Given the recent appointment of a new Regent he needed to issue the appropriate access badges, confirm security clearance, and transfer command codes. All the necessary trapping requires of the Justicar to keep the peace.
It was, however, he thought in poor taste that Dacien had given him a basket of exotic cheeses, meats, fruits, and wine to give to the new Regent. Dacien of course knew the Usurper had been quick to make policy changes in the Empire following his own ascendancy to the Chamber of Justice. Now, here he was, a glorified welcoming committee to the man who very much wanted to stab him in the back.
Thran sat patiently aboard the Alium, with his nose tucked into a datapad. He was reading a copy of the Muunilist Street Journal. The publication was widely considered the foremost publication regarding the economic news from around the Galaxy. Thran would read for a few seconds, then comment with a grunt or slight groan.
“Sienar-Jaemus is down two and a half.” he said. “Might be a good watch to buy.”
“Do you even know what that means?” K'vin growled, looking up from his own datapad.
“Of course I do.” Thran replied, as he tilted the datapad down.
“Enlighten me.” K'vin droned.
“Dogs don’t understand the complexity of the galactic economy, Kevin. I’d be wasting my breath.” Thran replied.
“By all means, save it then. The Force knows you’ll need it to explain to Dacien why you’ve been constructing illicit superweapons.” the attorney replied, tucking his nose back into a copy of “Bones -n- Balls Weekly”.
BING-BONG The alert triggered a voice to appear over the internal speakers. It waivered behind the robotic tones of a voice modulator “Please place your tray-tables and seatbacks in the upright position and prepare for landing.”
Thran sighed and tipped back his glass of namana nectar.
Kamjin knew Thran was approaching. Not through the Force nor any other heavily laden mysticism. The ground crew had begun preparing the hangar for the arrival of Thran’s ship.
Soon it would all be over and he could return to his day job.
The vessel glided past the shimmering blue light of the hangar’s containment field. The subtle thud of magnetic docking clamps signaled his arrival. The loading ramp descended, spitting gaseous gouts of condensate.
He was accustomed to a bit of pomp and circumstance upon his arrival to places. He’d expect no less here. Although, Thran had half expected the Voice and half of the Inquisitorius to be waiting for him with binders and shock sticks. His little stunts in the unknown regions could merit that approach. His disappointment peaked when he reached the bottom of the ramp. The only member of his welcoming party was an old rival: Kamjin.
“Okay, you can all come out now…Surprise! And all that…” Thran said, looking around the mostly empty hangar.
“Wait, let me get into character…” he added taking a deep breath. “Oh, I’m so surprised! What an amazing sur- eh, who am I kidding? There’s no one here.”
A pair of hangar crew members whispered urgently with each other. “I think that’s Derc Kast,” the one said to the other.
“What?” The other said, turning to look at the new arrival as they carried their load from the storage room to the main hangar bay.
“Hey, don’t tip the container!”
“Sorry. But that’s not Derc.”
“Yes it is!”
“No it isn’t. Derc has sandy blonde hair. That man has brown hair.”
“What the hell do you know, that’s just the lighting. I’m telling you that’s Derc. Picture him without any clothes on.”
“Why would I do that, Sally?”
“Cause, then you’d know it’s Derc.”
“I don’t want to picture him naked.”
“Too late, I’m already doing it.”
“Ugh, you’re the worse Sally.”
Kamjin tried desperately not to overhear the conversation. Cause if he could hear it then Thran definitely heard it and the last thing he needed was Thran’s ego to take a bump from two of the deck crew fanning over his entertainment persona.
Kamjin extended the basket of exotic food stuffs towards Thran. “On behalf of the Council, I welcome you to your post as Regent. There’s some paperwork we need to address for your…” Kamjin started to say.
“You can give that to me. My client does not accept things being handed to him. Especially not by someone we’re still considering legal action again,” K'vin said, reaching up a diminitive paw and grabbing the paperwork from Kamjin.
“Legal action? What legal action?”
“Never you mind. I’ll have my clerk deliver this back to you once we’ve reviewed and made redlines,” K'vin said, pulling out his comlink and starting a conversation with the person on the other end.
Kamjin shook it off. He was used to K'vin at this point. “Umm…where was I. Ah, yes, it’s good to see you again,” Kamjin restarted and a piece of him meant it. He and Thran had done great things for the Empire and had aspirations to continue that work.
“If you’ll follow me and, umm, take the basket, there is a small reception setup in a nearby conference room.”
“How long is this gonna take? I have to power wash the smell of Mandalorian out of my new office. They don’t take the armor off you know…it gets…dank. It really lingers. Make Terrence smell like roses.” Thran said, following behind Kamjin.
“It’s my understanding someone on the staff has arranged to have cake. I’m not certain if it’s here yet or if someone is delivering it,” Kamjin said, weaving through the hangar deck and into the corridors of the complex.
“They’ll probably want you to say a few words. I’m sure someone will want to capture a holo and shake your hand. In the interim,” Kamjin said, withdrawing a datapad from his cloak and handing it to Thran. “I think you’ll find your clearance now grants you access to all the contracts and production schedules managed by Arx.”
“Kevin, the form.” Thran said.
The attorney passed over the form.
“Any image or likeness of my client may not be used without the expressed written consent of Major League Derc-ball, LLC. It’s mostly standard boilerplate. I’ll leave the reading to you. No signature, no photos.” K'vin J. Lawdogg said firmly.
“Stop right there criminal scum!”
The slightly modulated voice rang out loud with clear authority.
Idris Adenn dropped from a ceiling vent to the ground and pointed an accusatory finger at the two men.
“You have a lot of balls thinking you can just walk into here like you own the place,” he added, finger shaking slightly with rage. “We have a file on you that stretches out 12 parsecs you utyc shabuir.”
The Voice pulled a shock collar from his belt.
“And pretending to be a human, despicable,” he added jumping forward to snap the collar around the Justicar’s neck.
Kamjin sighed. This was not the first time this had happened. It wasn’t the dozenth time it had happened. He reached calmly into his robes and pulled out his ID badge.
“I work here,” He said, jerking back his neck. “I WORK HERE.”
Idris’ hand shot forward and snatched the ID badge.
“I’ve seen a lot of fakes in my time. Used several myself… this one must have cost you a fortune, but then again if there is one thing a Hutt has in excess beyond body mass and slime, it’s credits.”
Kamjin gestured behind him. “You could try walking behind me to see that there’s no tail that you have to step over.”
He turned to Thran. “It takes about five minutes to work through this and then we’ll be on our way.”
Idris faked a double take as if noticing Thran for the first time.
“Oh my! Derc Kast in the flesh. You’re so dreamy,” he said before pretending to swoon.
“Yes, yes, it’s Derc Kast. Now, can you walk behind me already and remember I am human so we can get on with this? If they have cheese baked bread at this thing and it gets cold I won’t be staying in my usual good humor about these misunderstandings Idris,” Kamjin said, exasperation dripping with every word of this tired all dance.
Idris leaned in, helmet pushing against Kamjin’s cheek.
“I’m watching you Lap'lamiz. Always watching you.”
The Voice turned and started down the hallway. “Hurry up you nerfs lets get this going.”
Erinyes was in the conference room, overseeing the final preparations for the welcome banquet. As the self-appointed party planner and caterer of the Council, everything had to be just right for an event as important as the appointment of a new Councilor.
Of course, it also meant that she was blissfully unaware of the goings-on in the hangar.
Blissfully.
Kamjin rolled his eyes and with a casual flick of his fingers the locking mechanism within the collar whirled, clicked, and disengaged. As the device clattered to the floor the Justicar turned back to Thran “As I said, five minutes. You could set your chronometer to it.”
Kamjin gestured for them to follow the Voice. “No, the second on the right,” Kamjin called out as the Voice went to enter the wrong room. He knew Thran was going to give him such grieve for this later.
Later being probably twenty seconds from now.
“Did he get that close cause just cause you can’t see shit out of those helmets or is personal space not a thing around here? I’m not cool with being touched by ug-ohs. And…Kamjin…Cheese bread? That explains why you’ve gotten so rotund…Turned you from a TIE Pilot into a PIE…PIElot, amirite?” Thran chortled looking over at Kevin.
Kevin sighed. “As I’m contractually obligated to say it…Good one, sir.” he groaned.
“Jeez, Kevin…I’ll workshop it okay? They can’t all be winners. Kamjin, Sign the form.” Thran said.
Kamjin was going to pass out from all the sighing and eye rolling. Though, it did sting a bit to known Thran could see his rovers were fitting a bit more snuggly around the waist. Maybe he should make use of the gym access tomorrow.
“What form?” Kamjin snapped. “You’re supposed to sign the forms and return them to me and then I can give you your access badge. I reused the old picture you had on file so it would be ready for you.”
Thran sighed. “You won’t get the upper hand, Kam. I already have an access card…”
“Is it time for the bucket, sir?” K'vin whined.
“Indubitably, my dear Kevin.” Thran said.
His attorney dug deep into his attache case, pulling a steel bucket from deep within. He passed it over. Thran doned the bucket, slipping it over his head. Crudely painted horns and a t shaped cut out revealed it’s purpose.
“I am Qyzlx..Xylophone…Zydeco..Zambesi…or whatever. You know who I am and you know it is true because I am always serious. This is a way…” Thran lifted the bucket.
“Yoinked it from a desk I…acquired…can’t believe it works. Seriously, you guys need better security… actually, like…any security.” Thran chirped.
“Anyway, you want publicity photos…you gotta sign the form. The Critical Likeness Integrity Testimonial.” Thran exchanged the bucket for a data pad.
He passed it over to Kamjin. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding it…little hint. It’s at the top.” Thran patted Kamjin on the shoulder and brushed past him.
“Thran, there is no way that will work. You’re being deranged and,” Kamjin shot a look at K’vin, “you are being mislead by lapdogs that won’t tell you the truth. The security here is the best in the gala…” Kamjin trailed off as an Imperial Naval Guard came around the corner, spotted Thran holding that bucket in his hand, and came rushing over agape.
“Lord Zxyl, I thought Mandalorian never removed their helmets. Sir, is everything okay?” the guard asked, eyeing the Justicar and diminutive lawyer.
He slowly moved his hand toward his holstered blaster. “Here, let me badge you into the conference room,” he said as his other hand withdrew a code cylinder from his chest pocket and actives the door look. His eyes boring holes at the Justicar.
“Here you go Lord Zxyl, enjoy your day. Now you two, let’s see some ID,” the guard said now drawing his blaster and leveling it at the Justicar.
Kamjin sighed and offered his badge again. “Kamjin…I thought you were a Hutt?”
Thran had already turned to enter the room and only heard the guard’s body hit the ceiling followed by a nervous chirp from K’vin.
Thran paused inside the doorway. He turned to block the threshold.
“Sign it, Kamjin” He said, poking at the Datapad
“You just take your finger, wiggle it a bit and give it a little flick.” Thran added with a grin.
“I am not signing this…C.L.I…whatever it is. I’ve never heard of it and as far as I’m aware it doesn’t exist,” Kamjin fumed and pushed a datapad at K’vin.
“You need to sign my Digital Image Compressive Knit. Just sign the short form. The long one doesn’t get into any additional detail the short one can do.”
Thran waved his hand “You will to sign the form”.
The suggestion fell on deaf ears. Thran waved his fingers again, as if the repeated motion would change the results.
Kamjin put his hands on his hips and just stared at Thran.
While the Justicar was distracted judging the newly appointed Regent’s attempts to force a resolution the guard became awe struck.
“What are you doing, man?” The guard exclaimed, grabbing the pad. “You have to sign. We have to sign. I’m signing it. We all are signing it.”
The guard scribbles a messy signature hurriedly on the pad. Before Kamjin could even react K’vin slapped the pad with a digital notary seal.
“You all witnessed it. A legal representative of the Justicar’s team signed the form in his presence as a proxy. It’s offical. Thank you for your support,” K’vin said, collecting the signed pad.
Thran moved to the side.
“I can’t believe that worked.” He said under his breath.
He nodded and smiled at Kevin. Whatever was contained within that agreement was iron clad…Lawdogg’s finest work.
As soon as Thran stepped into the room, chaos broke loose.
The lights cut out, immediately replaced by flashing strobes and even a disco ball. Dance music pounded until it reverberated through the floor, overlaid with the cheers of an adoring crowd. A welcome banner unfurled from the ceiling. There were streamers. There was confetti. There was a smoke generator. It was very much a nightclub party environment.
For thirty seconds, anyway. Then the lights returned to normal, and the smoke began to fade. The music and raucous cheers abruptly stopped, replaced by far more sedate applause from the gaggle of Regency bureaucrats, who looked something between relieved and embarrassed. At least the welcome banner stayed resolutely in place.
“Sorry about that. Security was very insistent we follow station bylaws about noise levels, on the order of the Justicar himself.” Erinyes glided across the room, a tray of drinks floating beside her. “Welcome to Arx, Mister Kast. It’s not often we get bona fide celebrities this far into the Rim.”
Behind Erinyes, the conference room table was loaded with delicious victuals. Yes, there was cheese bread—still steaming hot—but a two-tiered namana-cocoa cake was the centrepiece.
A tumbler levitated from the tray and towards Thran. “Chateau D'aarmont 1734, XO, one drop of water.” A second, towards K'vin: “Your contractually-obligated refreshment.” A third, to Kamjin: “And your Diadem Square. I used the twenty-year Dark Elixir this time, so let me know what you think. I’ll have to thank Reiden for spreading the good word on Caperion about it.”
Kamjin took the offered drink and took a lingering sip. It wasn’t his order. It was the policy and one thing you didn’t mess with was corporate policy holders. The paper work there would be a nightmare.
Thran scooped the snifter and swirled it, taking in a deep sniff of the intoxicating aroma. Thran peered into the glass, then looked to Erinyes. His eyes drifted over to Kevin.
“We shan’t be repeating the Uluv incident, correct?” Thran asked.
The canine attorney dry-heaved. The flood of memories of that night was nearly as painful as the merciless teasing he’d received in the weeks after that fateful night. He placed the glass back on the tray.
“Just water for me.” He said.
Thran smirked to himself. He looked over the buffet and the decorations.
“Who authorized these expenditures?” Thran asked vaguely in the direction of Erinyes. He lazily pointed towards the array of hand held foods.
A large Togorian seemingly emerged from the shadows of the conference room to loom behind the new Regent for a moment before giving him a friendly slap on the back with a hearty laugh, “There will be a time for work later. This is a time for Celebration!” Rajhin shifted his position to Thran’s left side so they could see each other’s faces.
“Dacien sets our budgets. Why do you ask?”
When the tiger appeared from the shadows—Krath only knew how a man so large and loud could be so sneaky—Erinyes turned to him. “Something to drink, Raj?”
<@185939710005215232>
The Togorian pondered for a moment, “I’ll take some Cortyg brandy if you have it.”
“Wild or tame?”
“Wild,” the Fist replied without hesitation. It was, after all, a special occasion.
“Don’t get it too close to the candles on the cake, or you might lose your whiskers.”
Thran side-eyed Rajhin. He was only passingly familiar with him. K'vin growled as his eyes caught the feline shape. Thran shared the sentiment.
“Down boy.” Thran said, extending his hand to stay K'vin from leaping forward.
K'vin complied and Thran surveyed the room. As deserved and obviously necessary as celebrating him was, this event had surely cost more than what ought to be properly allocated to what amounted to a team building activity. To know it had all been approved and allocated by the Grandmaster laid worry on his heart.
It was no wonder the Council had not sent aid to the Clans after the attacks by the Children of Mortis. They’d likely spent all the relief funds on bonbons and balloons. He wondered how pervasive this gross misuse of funds was. How deep did it go? We ‘re they insolvent on pay for the military too? Was that why security had been so poor? Could they even support the Council’s Feudal claims if their coffers ran dry?
At least in the Caperion System, he could justify his own lavish lifestyle under the shadow of protection from the SARLAC and stimy complaints with full peasant bellies. He couldn’t say the same for this lot. In time, he’d set this right.
“Kevin, send a message to Roth and Roth. We’ll be in need of their forensic accounting services. This looks bad. We’ll need the Bobs…” He said. “Oh, and reschedule my appointments for the evening. I think I’ll have my hands full here.”
“Even the massage, sir?” Kevin asked.
“Of course don’t cancel the massage… we’re not in prison, Kevin. Gah! And hese glutes aren’t gonna untension themselves…like they would in pris…on second thought…yes even the massage.” Thran exclaimed.
After a suitable pause to allow Thran to not address her, Erinyes sauntered off to the portable bar at the other end of the room. She vaguely overheard the beginnings of Thran’s concerns about the Brotherhood’s fiduciary habits, but dismissed them with a mental shrug. Bean-counting had never been her forte anyway.
After considerable effort getting the guard back to his station Kamjin joined the party. He surveyed the room and noticed that most of the food had already been rummaged through with only the worse items remaining. A dried out fruit tray and an all veggie cheese bread that was probably equal parts cold and containing the worse of veggies. He could see the little black bits covering nearly the whole thing.
I guess I’m going hungry again, he thought as he grabbed an undersized bottle of water from the table. He slowly twisted the top off to take a swig. He loathed what he had to do next. He’d really rather not do it. But Thane had somehow smirked when he told him he had to do it.
Kamjin cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me a moment,” he spoke over the crowd. “Ah-hmph.” Slowly the conversation trailed off.
“Thank you, as we’re here meeting our new Regent I thought it would be good if we did a little ice breaker to help us get to know Thran and for him to get to know us,” Kamjin forced a smile as he stared into the blank faces. “So…let’s start off with an easy one. If you could be any animal; what would it be an why? Rajhin, perhaps you’d like to go first?”
An awkward pause filled the room as the Fist pondered his answer. The feline Togorian took no offense to the question.
“A Tooka,” Rajhin replied, “they seem to live adventurous lives.”
“Really?” Kamjin said, and some part of it was in awe. “I wouldn’t have expected you to pick a feline. I don’t know why but it seems out of place.”
Kamjin noticed that Idris had joined the group in the conference room. “Lord Idris, perhaps you’d like to go next?”
“You must know I’m referred to as Haar Dreki’ormr be’Manda'yaim,” Idris said as if that explained everything.
“The Dragonsnake? Clan Adenn’s Signet?” He added as the silence grew. “Noble. Wise. Dangerous.”
The silence continued.
“Okay something else would probably fit better, yes.”
“Sorry, I thought you were choking on something. A dragon snake…aren’t you a little small for a dragon snake?” Kamjin said in reply.
“Erin?”
“Hmm… maybe a convor. They’re cute little things, and seem pretty carefree.” Erinyes handed Rajhin his eye-wateringly strong brandy, and Idris a Mandalorian black ale.
“What about you, Kamjin? What’s your bestial fantasy?”
“A Hutt,” Idris coughed, a weak effort to cover the comment.
The crowd of associated office works began to mumble amongst themselves. Only fragments could be overheard through the crowd.
“…kinda like a Hutt…”
“I see it…”
“…heh, figures it would be a Hutt…”
“I’ve always thought he acted like a…”
Kamjin’s eye twitched as he cleared his throat. “I’ve always considered myself like a Thranta. Graceful under pressure and able to carry great burdens,” Kamjin gestured towards Erin. “I wouldn’t call it a fantasy though. Several flocks were relocated to Bespin and have flourished there.”
Around them the crowd suppressed their laughter.
“Carry a great burden…like a Hutt.”
“…under pressure…of all that weight.”
“Thran,” Kamjin said, with the slightly hint of irritation. “Perhap you’d share what animal you’d be?”
“Yeah…” Thran said between munches of crudite. “I’m not doin’ that.”
His defiance was met with silence. Only the damp crunch of a celery stalk and the followed by munching could be heard.
“Not even a boast about how you’d be most dangerous predator around? That’s a shame.”
“Already am. Am Man.” Thran said, chomping into another celery stalk.
Kamjin’s jaw dropped. This is exactly what Thane expect to happen. Kamjin was desperate for some saliva as he smacked his mouth trying to come up with a plan.
“Ummm…Thran, this is all in good fun. Didn’t you at once tell me something about a small amphibious creature and the middle of the week?” Kamjin offered as a potential response for the Regent.
If Thran really dug his heels in he would make the rest of this such a challenge.
“Hrm? Small Amphimbulus? Not…ringing…any…bells.” Thran replied, chomping on celery between words.
It was clear the Sith was being difficult for the sake of being difficult. The man had made an entire career out of his oppositional defiance. His lack of compliance would eventually drive Kamjin to madness.
While Kamjin was busy trying to prod a response from Thran a new arrival entered the room. She wore the typical black Imperial officer uniform embellished with a fur collar cloak. Her aged face was locked in a stern scowl as her gray hair bobbed with each step. She carried with her a stack of thin datapads.
Her lips pursed as she saw the Justicar trying to conjure a response from the new Regent; then she set about her work. She began handing out the datapads with a single page message contained upon it.
“Please fill this out immediately,” Lt. Galdys Strakkekont said, her voice gruff and uncaring. It sounded like the tone a mother would use if their child brought home a Hutt for a date.
Erinyes took one of the datapads and raised and eyebrow. “What’s this?” Normally it was her office that ran surveys, so the prospect of one coming from the Regent—or worse, the “human resources” of the Brotherhood, the Master at Arms—was equal parts intriguing and worrying.
After a moment, the raised eyebrow gave way to a grin. Then a snort. And a snicker. With a sip from a glass she seemed to have conjured from nowhere, Erinyes began filling out the survey.
“… sex-positive culture… uncharacteristic of me to show concern… potential risks… temperature of station environments… vital to preserve both… public image and… Regent’s health and safety…”
Lt. Strakkekont made her way back towards Erin. Looking down her nose she peaked at the answers and nodded curtly before proceeding to another group who had not yet received datapads.
Hidden by his bucket helmet Idris arched an eyebrow and with two fingers gingerly grabbed a datapad as if it was a ticking bomb… or a diaper of baby hutt poop.
Idris read the datapad in its entirety. Then a second time. And then a third time.
“I honestly don’t see why this is necessary,” he said as he began to fill out the survey.
“Yes regrettably… Not yet regrettably… Tingles in my dingles… No I am a professional…” he muttered softly as he answered each question.
Lt. Strakkekont ear’s perked up. Did he say what I think he said? she thought, glaring at the helmeted Voice. She chose to finish handing out the datapads before addressing.
As Lt. Strakkekont checked her diminished stack of datapad she noticed a new arrival. A familiar face that she’d had to engage numerous times over the years. She could guess what the responses would be but she needed to be consistent.
Afterall, Human Resources requires consistency otherwise it becomes a challenge. She handed a pad to him and moved toward the exit to collect the pads as people exited.
Renatus, or simply Thane or Skotos as most on the Council knew him as, entered with aplomb and a lacking in fanfare. The Deputy Grand Master’s gloved hand accepted the datapad lackadaisically, only for his eyes to narrow as he registered what it was asking.
No. No. Concerned. No.
Having filled it out, the Firrerreo flicked his wrist and sent the device back from whence it came.
With barely a glance Lt. Strakkekont caught the datapad and added it to her stack. She began to review some of the summarized responses, her lips pursed as she noted some of the lack of decorum in some of the Council members responses.
The blaster’s snapcrack report filled the room. The bolt struck the wall behind the Regent. Thran barely moved. His eyes narrowed. The man began to shudder and shake. Rivulets of blood sprung forth from his eyes and ears.
“Actor? Actor!?” Thran said behind grinding teeth. “Oh my dear boy…I’m so much more than that.”
The man collapsed to the floor. Thran leaned over him.
“I’m also a model.” He delivered a swift kick to the man’s chest.
“And entrepreneur” he kicked again
“And philanthropist” another blow was delivered.
“And the man who would’ve signed your paycheck, but will instead sign your death warrant.” another kick found purchase.
“Oh…and NexuBeat holomag’s #1 most dreamy Outer-Rim hunk” His lightsaber snapped to life.
Thran paused. “There’s a whole lot more too… but I’m afraid you’re a little short on time to live…”
He plunged the saber down. Silence. Thran turned to the other remaining councilors.
“SERIOUSLY!? THE SECURITY HERE SUCKS HARDCORE ASS!” He screamed.
Idris popped his head back through the door at the noise.
“You seemed to handle it just fine,” he said with a sigh. “Poor Geslaagd, his wife hasn’t been able to work since the accident, and his kids, they already fear the darkness of the mines.”
Erinyes shrugged and handed Thane a whiskey old fashioned while sipping her own drink. “I’ve never had an issue with it, personally. Maybe it’s a ‘you’ problem?”
“I mean it’s definitely not the first time a crazed fan has gotten too close, but normally they’re clutching a brassiere or a doll made of their own hair…but I guess there was that one fella that read that one old book..something about Grain… something…what was that book?” Thran thought back, literature had never been his bar trivia winning category.
Thane sipped his whiskey slowly, still having said nothing since arriving.
That shocked absolutely no one.
Still, he couldn’t help but feel one of his eyebrows raise and stay there. All while he took in everything that was happening. Between that and the survey he had to fill out on arrival, the Deputy’s “concern” grew three sizes that day.
Lt. Strakkekont motioned to the squad of security that rushed into the room to remove the body. The mess was considerable as the security forces attempted to lift the body before deciding to just drag it out.
Lt. Strakkekont casually picked out his code cylinder and scanned it. A few moments of scanning the datapad told her all she needed.
In crisp fashion she approached Thran and the others. “Lord Idris is correct. His wife is unemployed and his children as currently receiving some degree of mental health assessment,” she said, emotionlessly.
“However, we can’t go about allowing this sort of action to occur. It’s bad for morale. Regent, you’re going to need to attend a workplace safety briefing. In situations like this you should seek to remove yourself from the situation, if safe. Otherwise you should shelter in place,” she said, pulling up information on her datapad.
“I’m going to schedule this for Friday. It’s from two till six PM local station time.”
Thran looked at K'vin. K'vin looked at Thran.
“Bail?” Thran asked.
“Bail.” K'vin confirmed.
“YOU’RE NOT MY SUPERVISOR!” Thran screamed. A flare gun manifested in his hand.
The short barreled launcher leveled on the carefully crafted paper banners and woven crepe paper streamers. Click. PaFOOM!
A burning red orb of strontium nitrate leapt forth. Time seemed to slow as the flare cut a direct path towards the delicate, and highly flammable, decorations. It landed among the piles of gossamer thin paper.
In a half a blink of an eye, the room was engulfed in licking orange flames. The quiet second before panic set in was the perfect window for escape. Thran and his trusty Canid attorney turned tail and ran. They never looked back.