SHENRYAX (SWG, attn. Wick)

[Godular]

"Landing in 15 minutes, everyone," chirped the transport's captain on the intercom. "They're gonna scan us in five. If any of you have any weapons on your person or in your luggage, you had BETTER have a good reason for it or I will personally jettison your sorry hide out the garbage chute! AND HAVE FUN ASKING FOR A REFUND."

Archer finished arranging his modest luggage and looked around. A small part of him was almost sorry to see the luxury stateroom go, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that his next set of accomodations would be even more ostentatious. The suite had a walk-in closet, of all things! The massage bed was nice, too... and the massage chair. He sat down and hit the switch for a last minute back rub.

He could get used to the high life.

The intercom chirped again, now with the co-pilot's voice. "Upon landing, each suite will disembark in alphabetical order. Please ensure that all belongings are accounted for and all papers are in order. We assume no responsibility for lost or misplaced items after departure."

His nose tingled when the scan came, but that was about all that happened. He breathed a sigh of relief as he came to the conclusion that apparently nobody on the transport had a gun. The last thing he wanted was a complication to his itinerary. He allowed himself to doze off, deciding that it would likely take the better part of an hour for the vessel to land and the rest of the passengers to disembark. Everybody else was hauling enough cargo that he was less afraid of getting in other people's way than he was of getting smashed flat by heavy freight loaders, and he was patient anyway.

If anything happened between that point and the call for his suite came up, he was blissfully unaware of it.

Archer had forgotten was massages were like.

The co-pilot knocked on the door to his stateroom, rousing him from his reverie. "Mr. Archer! The time has come for us to part ways."

Archer hopped up and grabbed his luggage, shook hands with the co-pilot and offered the typical commentary on how the voyage was just fantastic and that he hoped to partake of their hospitality in the future and blah blah yadda yadda blah.

He stepped off the boarding ramp and looked around with a goofy smile on his face. He wondered if maybe he hammed it up a bit too much, but weren't rich pricks supposed to be overly melodramatic? He put such thoughts out of his mind. Only one thing mattered now: the mission.

Step one: Mon Calamari.

[The WIck]

Mon Calamari, System
Capital of the Confederation of Free Systems

The transport from Coruscant was escorted to its docking slip but a Confederation Customs Cutter. The vessel wasn't and massive flying wedge like an ISD nor did it have the elegant curves of a Naboo Cruiser. It was short and essential looked to be nothing more than a blocky vessel whose hull showed its age. It was barely seventy meters in length and nearly two thirds of that in beam, and while it did possess several CIWS turrets it did not sport any other weapons besides a single five inch laser turret on the top side of its bow. Either that man gun or the CIWS would be enough to shred the transport from Coruscant.

When the vessel arrived in the Mon Calamari system its pilots knew the routine, having flown this route daily. They exited at one of the three points of departure and entry to gain permission to approach the planet. All traffic not baring military or law enforcement IFF of the Confederation had to enter the aerospace of the system at these points. Any new arrivals detected translating into the system at any other point were immediately declared hostile and would be fired upon at the soonest possible opportunity.

Foreign military ships were never allowed inside this line of demarcation. Civilian ships would be scanned, before they could pass into Mon Cal aerospace. They would proceed at a specific velocity on a specific vector to their destination. They would have no sensors actively scanning instead they would be given a data link to system control’s nav sats that would pilot their ships safely. No shields would be raised at any time and no manual flying unless in the case or an emergency, failure to comply would result in the escorting customs cutter firing into the hostile vessel with no warning.

After a period of time the transport was cleared to dock at it’s destination.

Arrival Terminal 4422B
Besset InterStellar Spaceport


The Besset ISS was in high orbit of the Planet Dac. It was several a couple million kilometers “above” the Shipyards. It was one a couple dozen hubs in orbit of Mon Calamari responsible for bringing and shipping out millions of pedestrians and freight every day. From this point if the new arrivals were allowed to proceed they would have to buy passage onto one of the dozen or so intersystem areolines to proceed to the Shipyard, Dac or other points of interest. As the passengers exited their shuttle they would find themselves entering the terminal. On the right side of the exit chute there was a line in green marked “Citizens”. Citizens of the Confederation would go through that way to proceed about their business.

A line in red read “Aliens” this included everyone who was not a Citizen of the Confederation and would bring the aliens into Confederation Customs.

Archer would find himself approaching an Arch. Two Customs officers stood behind it. The Primary officer was giving directions on how to pass through the device. His partner stood off his left side. His Flechette gun, which was the Confederation equivalent of a shotgun was leveled at each approaching pedestrian as they made their way through the arch. As Archer moved into the arch LED lights sprang to an angry red hue. Before even the most bare of moments had passed two transparisteel paneled dropped from the front and rear of the arch sealing Archer within the device. And it fell through the floor.

Before anyone could voice a complaint a new device slid into place and the line was reopened.

The man with the Flechette gun announced,

“Next!”

Secondary Inspection Room A12

Archer would have only been able to hear the sound of his own breathing as he was in a completely dark room. The device that held him prisoner allowed only a single inch of depth to his front and rear. He would not be able to move unless he could shatter two inches of transparisteel with only half that distance to act.

A female’s voice was transmitted through the speaker at the top of the device.

“Please state your full name, planet of birth, current citizenship, purpose of travel and your destination. For your own information, you are not a citizen of the Confederation and as such you are not afforded any right to remain silent nor to protest any search, seizure and or detention we deem necessary. Every single answer you give here today will be analyzed by our computers to determine any deceit or lies if any are detected you will be deported from this system and not allowed to return for a period of ten standard years. Do you understand?

[Godular]

Archer had to admit that the process was certainly efficient. One moment he was walking along a line towards customs, the next moment nothing but darkness and somebody shooting words at him with a tempo he could dance to if he'd had any room to move. Still, he wasn't surprised. No matter what, he set something off.

"Yes'm!" He said, somewhat nervously. People would think it odd if he WASN'T on edge. "My name is Archer Turin. My planet of birth is Coruscant. My current citizenship is Coruscant. My purpose of travel is tourism and possible business. My destination is Mon Calamari and the Confederation proper for the same purposes."

He looked up sheepishly. "Did I walk down the wrong line?"

[The WIck]

Archer's attempt at humor was not appreciated. His statements were analyzed. A his retina and finger prints were scanned and a sample of his blood were drawn looking for any anomalies. His records were run to see if he had any criminal history or association with terrorists, insurgent or dangerous religious groups such as Chaos cults or Sith.

"A foreign body was detected inside you, more detailed scans have revealed it to be an artificial heart. Do you have any other modification that were done to your body?"

The voice waited for his answer.

"Our scan's show that you are correct and we have detected no sign of deception. You will be allowed to proceed to your destination. A citation of twenty thousand galactic credits has been charged to your account to pay for the use of our questioning equipment. You will have three days to pay this fine or a warrant will be issued for your arrest. Welcome to Mon Calamari and please enjoy your stay."

Then as suddenly as Archer found himself in the inspection room he was then released to go about his business.

[Godular]

The heart. Always the heart. He had long since gotten used to being stopped at customs wherever he went because machines designed to go 'beep!' always did so when he walked by. It was hard to deny that his treatment here had been more brusque than his experience had taught him to anticipate, but different strokes and all. He listened as the voice asked him about the presence of any other cybernetic equipment. Given how his question about walking down the wrong line had caused the voice to drop several degrees further below zero, he decided that it would be better to keep to just-the-facts-ma'am.

"I also have a neural implant that monitors my overall physical health and an ocular implant that allows me a head's-up display so that I can receive alerts should I need to seek medical attention. I was born with weak arterial walls, and must monitor my stress levels constantly lest I have a vessel burst due to high blood pressure. I have all necessary documentation available should you wish to confirm this."

It also helped provide the impression that he was a weakling made of wax-paper, and could very likely be killed by an unexpected loud noise. Never mind that constant monitoring of internal stress levels made him virtually immune to lie detection. Silver linings and all that rot.

This second benefit showed its presence when the voice acknowledged that no deception had been detected and also advised him of the sizable fee he had suddenly accrued for the privilege of the machine's suffocating hospitality. Some technicians nearby got a laugh whenever they said 'Enjoy your stay!'

"Thank you ma'am... oh wait, where do I PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--"

He was returned to the customs line and looked around. "Quite efficient indeed," he said to himself before turning to the fellow with the shotgun nearby. "I apparently have a bill to pay. Where would I proceed to settle it?"

[The WIck]

"Do I look like an accountant?" The Customs Officer informed him. "Move along, Xeno "

The last was a sneer.

[Godular]

Maybe not an accountant, Archer thought as he bowed apologetically and moved down the line with a sheepish grin, but my asshole detector just went through the roof, you malignant pustule.

He spent the rest of his time in the line thinking of clouds and rainbows while reading a horrible novel he'd picked up when he was someplace-he-didn't-care-enough-to-remember. Eventually he bumped up to a counter, and the terrible terrible novel was replaced by a massive packet of documentation and whatever else might be necessary to get through a particularly paranoid section of customs.

"Hi!" He said cheerfully at the person across the counter.

[The WIck]

The Customs Officer hands moved across the holo-board as he looked up some info from Archer's bio-metrics. His paperwork were analyzed and found to be genuine and authentic. The Officer knew about Archer's encounter in secondary and was well aware of what was discussed there. He asked again the standard questions of where Archer was coming from, where was going to and for what purpose. In the end he was given a two week visa to explore the planet side and do whatever it is tourists do. But before he left,

"Mr. Turin there has recently been a rash of attacks on various planets that belong to the Galactic Conclave which I am sure you are aware of. Namely Bastion and Coruscant have been attacked by Chaotic terrorists for seemingly no reason. As a result the security status of the Confederation has been upgraded to Orange, that's only a few levels below red on the threat scale, and sir Red is bad. For your own safety and that of everyone on the planet all visitors to any Confederation planet must where this wrist band. It contains nothing that you need to know about wear it at all times and it will be removed when you go to outbound departure. Any attempt to mess with it or removed will be viewed as felonious criminal activity and we will know if you attempt it."

The Officer put the wrist band on Archer it was a simple and nondescript device that was a beacon for the global positioning system. It would also identify him as an alien since Citizens would never be compelled to wear a device as it would be viewed as a violation of their rights.

"Thats all sir, Enjoy your stay."

[Godular]

Okay, lets try this again... I thought getting sent to the login screen after finishing a long-ass post and losing two hours' work was a thing of the past. I have thus been educated.

"Oh my, Coruscant has been attacked?" Archer asked, genuinely shocked. Why, its not even Tuesday, He thought, genuinely not shocked. He pulled out a small dataslate and made a show of cancelling his itinerary after his present vacation.

"It isn't going to be a problem if I send a message out to check on my offices, is it? I had a small shipment of these little ceramic figurines that can be opened up to reveal smaller ceramic figurines inside... I can never remember what they're called, but there's this one really existential species on the edge of the galaxy that can't get enough of the things. Sold one and bought a new ship. I will also need to send a message to my doctor in order to update him on my vitals..."

Soon enough, after dealing with further unpleasantness getting from the cruiser to the surface (apparently there was no such thing as first class for xenos, or customer service, or seats with cushions...), Archer found himself in a hilariously high priced villa watching a wide variety of enormous fish gambol and scamper about through a giant sub-water level window. Floating cities. Go figure. It was a moment of peace and tranquility that he endeavored to savor for as long as he could. Getting the customs fee paid off was like pulling teeth until he told the concierge that there would be an extra ten thousand credits in it for him if he could just help him get that damn thing out of the way. The last thing he wanted was for the local constabulary to hunt him down for failure to pay a ticket.

Now they knew him as a xeno with money out the ears and an eagerness to pass it on, which caused them to treat him exceptionally well. It was nice to know that being a good tipper somewhat trumped being a xeno. Not that he would ever have to worry about money at all, anyway.

Engineer: Money is information. Information is energy. Energy is our domain.

Oh joy, the other voices were waking back up. The field commander had ordered them into dormancy during customs. Their people knew very little about the confederacy, but it seemed he was right to proceed as if the word 'paranoia' were the state motto. The last thing they wanted was for the sub-collective mannerisms to show up in the middle of being questioned by customs.

General: I must confess. The Mistress has proven herself adept at allocating resources to suit the objective. You did very well in passing through that inquisition.

Archer: Your praise means so much to me. Archer's response dripped with sarcasm. The two had not gotten along since being forced to work together.

General: Take it how you will. I was mistaken to believe that your physical issues would be an impediment. You have proven adept at turning weakness into strength, and their strength into weakness. I apologize for my language earlier.

Archer sighed. Apology accepted. I admit that when you had been allocated to this objective I was certain you would be the same overbearing personality I remembered. It is nice to see that you have matured somewhat.

General: 'Somewhat', hmm? I guess that's fair. I WAS an overbearing bastard.

Astronomer: SHUT UP AND LOOK UP.

Archer: You can't get measurements from the ceiling.

Astronomer: I DEMAND TRIBUTE OF A SKYLIGHT.

Archer: Relax. The bedroom has one that suits your needs to the fullest. We're practically on the equator, so you'll have the perfect view. We don't even need to do anything weird to get your measurements. Now stop yelling please.

Astronomer: Sorry. I've never been on a spy mission before. I'm just eager to get to work.

General: I'm sure we all are. The sooner we can get this whole charade over with, the sooner we can return home. Even so, I believe we should take advantage of the opportunity that this mission has afforded us. We wouldn't be tourists after all if we didn't go out and 'experience' this world.

Archer: Indeed. Rest for tonight, as any tourist would, then we get to work... having fun. One week here, then we move into the Confederacy proper.

Assassin: Then its MY turn.

[Godular]

Archer sprawled upon a massive cushioned beach chair beside the pool. He preferred to avoid the artificial beaches, as venturing out into such a public venue with his arm band was bound to lead to disturbances that he would have a hard time settling amicably. He didn't want to deal with any situation that ended poorly. He needed his attention to be focused elsewhere, with a minimum of distractions. The temperature was nice, just a shade on the cool side of downright cozy. The sun dipped closer and closer to the horizon as evening slowly turned into night.

Ignoring the smattering of hotel patrons around him, he focused his attention upward, on the band of white-gray slowly passing by overhead. Evenings and mornings were the best time to look at the artificial ring system that was the shipyard, as it provided a view unspoiled by daytime light from the sun, and it was the only part where the light of the sun reached the interior of the band before being gobbled up by the shadow of the planet.

Astronomer: By the gods... its IMMENSE!

Engineer: I concur. Even the prospect of constructing two death stars in rapid succession pales in comparison to the marvel of engineering that the Mon Calamari shipyards represent.

Astronomer: It must be... ten kilometers thick, at least! Maybe closer to twenty, even! And it's beyond geostationary orbit! Its solid, all the way around!

General: We need those coordinates, gentlemen. A lot rides on this.

Astronomer: Yes sir. Just taking a moment to compliment our hosts on their industriousness.

General: Understood, and understandable. It truly is a sight to see. We need your concentration, however. So try to restrain yourself. Kentei, your assessment?

Engineer: Subject is well defended, with multiple asteroids refitted to function as mobile firebases, planetary defense platforms, and a wide variety of anti-ship firepower on the shipyards themselves. We have done our best to calculate the trajectories of the asteroids and the defense platforms, but with all the traffic moving to and from the construct, the Long Arm would have a hard time of it. My suggestion would be to focus on disposable assets first. I have assisted in gathering coordinates for several points of interest as well.

Astronomer: His assistance has been invaluable, I might add.

General: Acknowledged. Do what you can, we only have three days left.

Archer took a sip of his drink, savoring the taste as long as he could while pulling out the menu and perusing the list of beverages once again.

General: I believe its my turn this time?

Archer: Vector doesn't want anything?

Assassin: Dun' get me wrong, they got drinks I woulda curbstomped my own ma fer just a flask of, but right now I just want a frakkin' beer. The imports section is shit, and the local stuff is shit. Ain't nuffin for me here. Gimme the good old days 'round Kessel, a guy could get a HARD drunk on.

Archer: How about this one?

Assassin: Nevahoidofit.

Archer: Its a whiskey. Not well known, but I've tried it before. Fire in your belly, hair on your chest, purple elephants dancing in front of you.

Assassin: Sounds fun. Get me some! I like that I can actually get drunk again! People always said I was a happy drunk.

He ordered a particularly stiff whiskey that he remembered from his early years and was surprised to find listed. Even if Vector didn't like it, Archer would enjoy a reminder of simpler times... before he joined up with his current employers and had at least four riders in his head at any one time.

General: You used to kill people with your bare hands while drunk.

Assassin: Yeh, but I did it HAPPILY. I miss my droid. He was always good in a barfight... said he could kill people with bottlecaps. Thought he was lying... until he did it to some nerf-muncher what managed to rip one of his arms off. Dude was a bleeder too. Took me a week to get the stains out.

Archer: You know, I think I remember that. Spiky haired dude in a poncho, janitor bot that could fence with a barstool?

Assassin: Damn, you WERE there! Holy shit, small galaxy. Hey... think I remember now. Sorry about your drink dude. I'll toast this next one to ya!

Archer: Had to throw away my suit afterwards. Did your robot HAVE to throw him on me?

Assassin: Nah, he was just anti-establishment. You looked official.

The drink arrived, and Archer drank as his somewhat psychopathic companion ordered... in one swig.

Archer: SON OF A BITCH. OW.

Assassin: HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW. DAAAAAAMN THAT FEELS GOOD. Tastes good too, I'mma haveta remember that one.

Stars were starting to come out now. It was becoming easier to pick out the individual ships moving about from one place to the other. Looking to the west, he could see one of the massive space elevators reaching from the surface to the shipyards as it slowly crossed the terminator. Light-gray hull paint or no, when it went into darkness, it was just as black as anything else. Archer watched the elevator vanish in increments, the only evidence of its increasingly shadowy existence the string of guide lights that ran along its length.

He'd seen giant sentient whales, applauded the feats of dexterity and grace of a troupe of mon cal aqua gymnasts, and soared through vast underwater canyons at speeds just shy of making him burst a vessel, but he was fairly certain it was the view he had here that would prove most memorable. Though the view might not have been as breathtaking as those other experiences, watching a vast and brilliant construct vanish into darkness, only to emerge on the other side unscathed. There was beauty in nature, and beauty in technology, but when the two came together to provide such a view as he witnessed now, the word transcendent came to mind.

The vision stuck in his mind even as his 'vacation' on Dac came to an end. He made sure to send off a short burst transmission to his doctor on Coruscant with a record of his blood pressure and other vitals over the past week, along with some concerns about a particularly lengthy head rush he had experienced two days prior. At the exact same time he transmitted his innocuous little message, he reconnected with the others on a wholly different wavelength altogether. He was fairly certain the telepathic connection couldn't be tracked, and was beyond impossible to decode, but the Mistress saw no reason to tempt fate with a constant signal.

REPORT.

Coordinates are provided, with modifiers due to relative positioning and motion. All that's left is on your end.

ANY COMPLICATIONS?

None worth mentioning. We will proceed with phase two within a matter of hours.

ACKNOWLEDGED. DO NOT RELAY SECOND ROUND OF COORDINATES UNTIL MISSION TERMINUS. END OF LINE.

The conversation spanned the better part of a nanosecond, but Archer's ears were still ringing. A real charmer, the Mistress was. How something could shout with telepathy, he did not know, but she most definitely could. He stepped from the small terminal, picked up his suitcases, and walked back to the hotel. Next step on his itinerary: a very short and violent chance meeting with a certain councilwoman.

Back in his hotel room, he took off his shirt and looked at the wristband on his arm. Some freshly ordered food sat beside him, uneaten.

General: Kentei, you're up.

Engineer: Archer, you might want to bite down on something.

Archer took the engineer's word for it, and rolled up his shirt sleeve before stuffing it into his mouth. He braced himself for what was to come, but nothing could prepare himself for the tremendous agony that surged forth from within his body. His heart, merely an artificial heart to any scanner that tried to avoid vaporizing its subjects, dissolved into the swarm of nanites that immediately set to work doing what needed to be done in order to prevent being tracked during the events to come. His heart rate and blood chemistry changed not a whit, now held in thrall by the swarm of machines working their way through Archer's frail body. It helped that the shirt sleeve in his mouth also muffled the otherwise bloodcurdling scream.

Proteins were reallocated, blood flow redirected, muscles severed, bones disconnected, and after several minutes of unimaginable agony, his arm dropped free of his shoulder and flopped onto the bed. His breathing had not changed, nor had his heart rate, but nothing could prepare one for that level of pain. The arm flexed and writhed of its own accord. If one were to check for a pulse, the arm would still possess the same one it had before it had been severed free. Why, in the coming days it would even move around in the hotel room. Slowly, sporadically, as if he had come down with some form of minor affliction that was keeping him bedridden. The room would remain paid for, and look for all intents as if it was lived in for as long as necessary.

Archer looked at the arm, his eyes devoid of emotion. The shock of the ordeal had forced him to withdraw, and in his place, General Arcturus stood tall. He turned and set to work with the food on the tray, reallocating proteins once again in another bout of terrifying agony as a new arm was constructed with the available organic compounds. Arcturus could weather this storm better than Archer could, and barely even grunted throughout the ordeal, simply breathing a sigh of relief as reconstruction finished and he flexed his new arm.

He sorted through his clothing, pulling out a nondescript jacket and absently pulled at what looked like a loose thread. The thread proved to be ten feet long, and of a slightly different material than the fabric of the jacket itself. He then brought out a small personal wrist watch, pulled off one of the knobs on the side, and fed the thread in. With a sound much like a fishing line being cast, the string split down the middle while whatever was contained within was pulled into the device.

He put the watch on and tested its capabilities by throwing the remnants of the string into the air and swishing his arm back and forth. The engineer was capable of telling the monowire sword exactly how far to extend to claim its target, and with each pass, the string separated without resistance once, twice, then three times. The shredded remnants immediately became lost within the plush carpet.

Last, he pulled the cufflinks off of the jacket and pressed down upon them. A small click and a zap of static electricity told him that these were indeed the correct cufflinks. While his back was still exposed, he slapped each cufflink onto his shoulders, thinking for a moment that it only itched as they embedded themselves into his skin. Though tiny in scale, they could generate a surprising amount of power if they were required.

"Practical uniforms my ass." Arcturus muttered.

[The WIck]

Darlington Hotel
Landing, Capital City
Planet Dac, Mon Calamari System
Confederation of Free Systems, Galactic Rim SWG

“You need to get to 13b it been two days since its last been serviced, you need to get over there pronto. You are behind schedule.”

The nasally voice of her supervisor rang in her ear bud.

“I know I am Mark, you pestering me isnt going to make these toilets clean themselves.” Rosita the cleaning replied as she pushed her trolley out of one room and into the hallway.

Over worked and underpaid doing jobs that a normal person would turn their nose up at. She knew was not only her fate but that of every cleaning lady in the world. Would the tenant of room 12a appreciate that she had folded his linen and polished his toilet? No, he wouldn’t. He’d soil the toilet again with Dac’s signature curry and leave dirty cloths all about. She would do her job though and even leave a damn mint on the pillow, because by golly she was a professional.

She used her hotel key in the door and waited for the beep that told her the door was unlocked and she lowered her head as she pushed the trolley into the room.

“What the hell?” She said as the trolley stopped suddenly. She tried to push it again but it seemed like something was blocking it.

Muttering several profanities she moved to the side of the trolley and looked down at the floor to see what it was that was blocking her trolley.

She only remembered screaming after she was running into the hallway.

The severed arm was still moving about the hotel room in her wake.

[Godular]

Engineer: They found the arm.

Arcturus took a sip of his positively spectacular unpronounceable drink, giving no outward indication of his internal conversation. In all honesty, he was unconcerned with the fate of Archer's former appendage. Enough time had passed now that he didn't look a thing like his former self. Local clothing had been purchased with money from a completely different account than what he had been using before, in order to better fit his taller, thinner, and significantly more lethal body. One thing he noticed immediately was that it was a LOT easier to get a server's attention now that he didn't have that pesky wristband.

Assassin: HAW HAW HAW! Didja catch the look on 'er face? COMEDY GOLD. Shoulda made the arm sprout spider legs and chase after 'er, all hissin' and shit.

Astronomer: How is that even funny?

Assassin: Frak you, that's how.

Astronomer: You are a seriously disturbed person.

Arcturus took another sip of his drink and looked around the small establishment. A more hole-in-the-wall bar than this one would have been hard to come by. Judging by the patrons, this was a favorite watering hole for those who made their living in the tourism industry. They took to their drinking with gusto and competed against each other for the prestige of having the funniest story about stupid foreigners for the day. He was pretty sure that housekeeper was going to get a free round in a few hours.

General: I trust that the nanites animating the arm will not be scrutinized?

Engineer: The instant the housekeeper left the room, I dissolved everything. It is now just a slightly metal-rich puddle of organic goop on the floor.

General: Good. How long until the reconfiguration is complete?

He looked at the back of his hand. Though virtually imperceptible to casual passerby, the substance beneath his flesh was flexing and flowing visibly. Reservoirs of titanium, iron, and other substances were drained in order to reinforce this new cybernetic body with sufficient combat capability to engage a jedi master on a roughly equal footing. The miniature power-cells within his body would provide another layer of defense against the weapons and capabilities that a force-wielder could bring to bear.

The Godulans were as Force-dead as could be while still drawing breath. No one had ever possessed the ability to employ the force naturally even before they left their organic bodies behind and embraced the morphic crystal that until recently had been their whole existence. Let it not be said that they were incapable of combatting force-users due to this deficiency, however. A difference in power was simply a problem to be solved, and like any combat, preparation was everything.

Engineer: Trying to keep the electromagnetic signatures down slows my progress, but I should be finished in approximately two hours. So long as we cool our heels here, we'll be fine.

Arcturus took another sip. He knew the target by her name and her face. Daneh had once been in his face a long time ago, rather stridently decrying the nature of his uniform. While the tirade had not bothered him, it had the effect of making her quite memorable to him, and so her name had come up first on the list of possible targets, simply by the virtue of her still managing to be alive after so long. He didn't really have anything against her, either. She had her way of operating and they had theirs. The mistress demanded a high-profile target however, and she did so like efficiency in her target selection...

[The WIck]

Room 13B, Darlington Hotel
Landing, Capital City
Planet Dac, Mon Calamari System
Confederation of Free Systems, Galactic Rim SWG


“She was quite clear on what it was. She saw what appeared to be an arm severed from its body moving about the room on its own accord. She fled the room and informed her supervisor who came into this room not two minutes later and found what you see now.”

Landing Police Officer Frederick told the detective that stood next to him near a pile of biomass.

“I don’t doubt it Fred. This room was rented by Coruscanti native that through a red flag in Customs. CBP is informing me that they had placed a tracker on him which would alert them if he went anyway sensitive. This must be an attempt to bypass the tracker.”

The Officer frowned as the detective spoke,

“So this dude cut off his arm? Then he some how set it up to walk about the room to fool CBP while he made his escape? No one heard any screams as this guy severed his arm? There is no blood here either. You don’t need me to tell you that seems strange.”

“No I don’t. The Evidence Collection Team will process what’s left here make sure they CC me with anything they find. Whatever this fellow is and intends hes on the loose to do what he likes.

Council Chambers,
Government Centre, Isle of Hope


The Isle of Hope lay in a bay that formed the eastern coastline of the capital city of Landing. It was a man made island and its city scape housed the bodies and agencies required to run the Confederation. Towering spires of glass, steel and crystal rose high into the clouds with all the organic elegance expected from something designed by the Mon Calamari, clean and elegant it was perhaps the antithesis of the sterile and industrial harshness that the Conclave government area sported before it was razed to the bedrock. At the center of this area one spire rose higher than any other was the Council’s Tower and at its base were a half dozen shorter towers and a grand hall that housed the Meeting representing the congress. Yet none of them were even a quarter the height of what would be seen on Coruscant, if one wanted to see huge monoliths that harkened to the Tower of Babylon of legend they simply had to look to one of the orbital elevators along the equator of Dac.

It was here that the four high councilors of the Confederation met each one elected from their region by vote of Congressmen in the Meeting.

Sir Ducas Jutia was the elected member of the Tion Kingdom who controlled its sphere of influence from Dellat. Then there was Lady Henrietta Santhe-Sienar who was elected by the representatives of the Interstellar Corporate Conglomerate whose capital was located at Lianna and had recently secured the systems of the Cronese Mandate as a protectorate and some would say as a buffer between their home systems and the troubles brewing in the Core. Cal Dostan a Mon Calamari represented who you would expect, and finally Daneh Ghorbani was the member from the Farstar’s Confederation which consisted of a cluster of stars connected to the Mon Calamari system by the warp point off the fringe of the Dac system.

“It is not unlike dropping a vase onto the floor.” Remarked Sir Ducas to the rest of the Council. “The Conclave has existed for so long it has aged and become brittle, and an attack such as this that might have simply chipped our veneer once has instead shattered the pot.”

“A dozen independent states have arisen from the Conclave most like us around our natural borders. There are some though who seek to fill the vacuum left by the recent raids and the pardon the expression, chaos left in their wake.” Cal said.

“You speak of the Thrashians?” sounded Lady Henrietta’s soprano voice.

The aged Mon Calamari representative responded.

“Damn right I do. They have taken advantage of this situation in a most profane manner seeking to expand their own borders and sphere of influence by militaristic expansion and a poorly fiend attempt to annex systems for their own protection. While some have simply capitulated when faced with the overwhelming superiority of their space fleet other have resisted in an attempt to preserve their liberty. For all their efforts it is wasted for we receive a few garbled requests for assistance before their fall.”

Not for the first time was Daneh struck by the strong resolve in the very fiber of the fish eyed man’s words. His race though they looked nothing like her own, and prefered a habitat that was remarkably different than that which your average human prefered did however share a mindset she was quite familiar with. Even if on her home planet the people would have like burned him at the stake for being a demon, each and everyone would have understood the Mon Calamari true and utter devotion to their personal liberty and freedoms granted to them not by the state or any other institution but by the Creator. Whomever or whatever that could be was up to interpretation, be that God or the Gods or something equally unknowable like the Force. It was the singular concept that bound their confederation together and unified them as a people be they human or otherwise in a manner of governance not seen anywhere else in the galaxy.

Cal continued ,

"Agents of chaos have bloodied the nose of the Thrasians but the raid on Bastion is like some sick joke. Only a few ships lost and a few thousand civilians killed but there were no real significant losses or more to a point a strike against their industrial base. All the raid served to do was stir up the imperialist sentiments of the faction now control of the Empire. Then consider the raid on Coruscant, the heart of the Conclave. Three warships assaulting the capital is laughable yet they forced the hand of the In international Fleet all but dictating their action which has permanently broken the Conclave.”

Jutia spoke,

“Now the Imperials move not only consolidating their position in their region of the rim but they have pushed core ward securing systems up to Bilbringi, what if they continue to push into the Core. It will bring them into conflict with our remaining allies in the region and whatever successor states rise from Coruscant.”

“I have a proposal to make.” Daneh spoke for the first time to her fellow councilors. “Each of our states needs to mobilize our reserves to protect the home front from any chaotic incursion. Our active duty forces stand ready now, I propose that we use them. We will send taskforces to Botajef and the Roche Asteroids. They will set up forward operating bases at these points and we will issue a declaration stating that from this line rimward will be considered a Confederation sphere of influence and any incursion through this point by Empire or Imperium forces will be viewed as not only a direct threat to the sovereignty of the systems of this region but also of the Confederation. The Imperium remains our allies and they have asked us for assistance in checking the encroachment of the Empire. I have suggested that we secure the Borleias system to prevent any attempt by the Empire to push towards the Core but is vital to our strategic concerns. I ask you all yea or nay?”

Her proposals passed.

Lady Henrietta spoke finally,

“Neither Coruscant nor the Imperials will view fondly our actions here.”

Daneh replied to her counterpart and longtime friend.
“We make great decisions here and we practice the democracy of our republic at the Meeting. Votes put into motion our actions but only blood and iron will decide them.”

[Godular]

Arcturus sat on a bench, facing the Council Tower. A small sign next to the bench read 'DO NOT FEED THE BIRDS' but the strange seagull-pigeon-fish things hungrily milled about his feet anyway. The chorus of coo-gurgles was oddly soothing, even as the internal tension ratcheted up by several orders of magnitude.

Arcturus: Kentei, are we ready?

Engineer: The nanomachines have completed fabrication of all necessary equipment. Vectorgrav, Mass control, Scanners, and Electromagnetics are online. Bugout is a go as well.

Arcturus: Good. Set waypoint.

Engineer: Waypoint set. Transit options engaged. Cybernetics and bioshields are fully empowered.

Vector: Murder murder kill kill murder murder kill kill... I WANNA DRIVE!

Arcturus: Once we get the councilwoman's location, you will have control. Until then, contain yourself.

Arcturus stood up and started walking towards the spire of the Council's tower. The artificial island was just as much a tourist trap as anywhere else on the planet, though with a substantially higher police presence. It seemed that their timing had been quite well chosen, as the chaos on Coruscant (Arcturus debated whether he should capitalize chaos in his report) had apparently played right into their hands. Learning that the high councilpeople were on planet for an emergency session was simple enough. People were practically gloating that their high council was going to do something that'd throw everything going on in the core on its head.

But pinpointing Daneh's actual location within the council building was another matter entirely. That would require an active scan, which would be as noticeable as an earthquake for all the detectors they had. The scan would have to be the go signal, as even something as simple as a building wide direct scan would be sufficient to put any suitably paranoid government into bomb shelters.

Vector: FRAKKIN' LAWL! They're still allowing in tourists! Lookit that crowd!

Big thanks for small favors, Arcturus thought as he approached the base of the building. A massive crowd of gaudily dressed tourists milled about the entrance to the building while lines of tourists were given security scans before being allowed entry. Even the most basic security scan would reveal all the hardware that had been manufactured within his body, so this was where the pretense would end.

He walked into the crowd and looked up at the building... and scanned. It was a two layer scan, one to determine the layout of the building, another to take aural readings of everybody presently within the building.

Vector: Huh... was certain they'd be at the top. Guess 'looking down on the masses' is just an imperial thing.

Arcturus: THERE! Big room at ground level! Vector! YOU HAVE CONTROL.

Vector: OH FRAK YES!

The scan gave them some idea as to the security measures in place, and they were indeed quite daunting... for any normal assassin. One might say that Vector was as abnormal as assassins could get, however. Only a shout of "LETS GET THIS PARTY FRAKKIN' STARTED!" warned the tourists before the pulse of gravimetric energy sent several of them flying while Vector surged into the air, then suddenly blasted towards the building with one hand pressed forward like some superhero from the holovids. This hand, however, had a swirling vortex of energy in front of it, and what looked like a long and phenomenally thin string madly swirling about.

It was the monofilament wire version of a chainsaw. Any unshielded objects would essentially be pulverized the instant they came into contact with that terrifying monofilament maelstrom. A truly magnificent breaching weapon.

[The WIck]

OOC: Some stuff for you before I dive into my reply. To be fair I rolled you a die to see how well your scan would see things, even gave it a plus 2 modifier since you have shown some inherent high tech stuff what with nanobots and what have you. You faired quite well and will see quite a bit but for some reason you may still think theres more to meets the eye. After all your active sensor which is contained supposedly in something as small as your dudes body is going up against a dedicated ECM/ECCM of my capitol. (See we use the O in capitol because it relates to the actual buildings that house my legislature...I wish the rest of SWG would learn this friggin fact. Its a capitol building in a capital city/system whathave you). Oh my gosh on the exterior of the building you detect quite a few point defense sensors and weapon clusters. Your scan of the building reveals lots of peeps and the structure as it ranges 250 stories high and huh it even goes down to what appears to be into the sea, but your scans in this sub-basement area are fuzzy to say the best. Aural scans reveal that the average person in the area has quite a soul bloom because everyone is important But in what appears to be a reinforced room you see five individuals auras around a table and one burns just a bit brighter than the others….

IC:

Council Tower,
Government Center, Isle of Hope
Dac, Mon Calamari System
Capital of the Confederation of Free Systems

The biggest fear of any sort of attack on the Government Center was that which no defenses could stop. A single anti-ship anti matter missile detonating in the atmosphere of Dac would render entire continents into nothingness in but a moment. Any sort of an attack on a lesser scale could be prepared for and reacted to properly if the defenders trained hard enough and were given enough time to react.

There was one major problem that the man attacking the building had today, he announced his arrival with a bang...literally.

"LETS GET THIS PARTY FRAKKIN' STARTED!"

Three seconds elapsed. If that was not enough time wasted he further revealed his location with the gravity burst the so conveniently pushed the innocent bystanders gathered about him away from him. Further more he launched himself into the air above the crowd of bystanders and flew towards the Council Tower hand outstretched.

Plenty of time to react to an external threat. An alarm sounded. The main Entrance closed shut behind that door and every window on the first story battle-steel shutters fell as the tower’s automated defense systems’ batten down the hatches. Two laser clusters went active and a single CIWS system as they tracked the approaching target and fast though it may be it was no hypervelocity missile. Soundlessly the two laser clusters begin to discharge a single bolt every quarter of a second they were enough to tear apart an atmospheric fighter craft. The CIWS spat even more rounds at the rate of 600 depleted uranium autofin stabilizing sabot rounds a second at the flying threat. All of this occurred within a half a second of the identification of the threat which began with its oh so subtle announcement. At this range the hit probabilities were up to 99.7% as the time to target for both weapon systems was pretty much negligible.

While the automated point defense systems responded to the threat an alert went out to all law enforcement and security units in the area which was quite considerable. No less than an active duty Confederation Marine Battalion was responsible for the defense of the island. While two of its three companies was currently off duty, Bravo Company of the Third Battalion was on duty and able to respond to this threat and all those who heard the weapons fire knew this was no drill.

The four man Capitol Police detachment standing outside the now closed main gate to the tower aimed their carbines at the approaching target, and waited until the PD systems finished their work. From the crowd of bystanders a Marine ready alert Fire Team emerged, they were wearing the best unpowered armor available to the Corps and carried M5 impellers which were an easily concealed bullpup assault weapon. They were about ten meters off to the right side of the target and each member took cover where available in the courtyard and aimed their impellers at the threat.

No warnings or orders were given by either the Capitol Police or the Marines. Their target would either be eliminated by the PD weapon systems or it would continue its assault and they would react to that.

[Godular]

They'd known of the guns before Vector's outburst, though the assassin had to admit those things moved fast. In the fragments of a second that he had to watch them from above the small crowd from whence he had burst, he could already see targeting lines centered directly on his chest, and the first of the laser strikes already plunged into him. But the speed of thought was mighty indeed...

Vector: OOOO! SO MANY SHINY GUNS! LOOKIT 'EM ALL! Hey engineer guy! Need ya to do me a flava and adjust the bioshields.

Engineer: This should be good.

Vector: Just keep to structural integrity, and make sure the power cores don't get smished. This is s'posed to be a display of power, innit? Easy way to pull that off is take whatever these jokers wing at us and keep tickin'. P.S. Ow. Them lasers smart. I think one of 'em got me in the eye.

Engineer: Recognized. Solidifying extremities, concentrating deflectors on torso, refining ablative shields to torso and right arm. You want to keep the nanowire until you breach, I assume?

Vector: Yarp. Son of a bitch, there went m'jaw. I'mma take a leap through the windows above that door.

Vector's body was already a mess by the time the first shells started to come at him. Several parts of his body had already been blasted free by the lasers, and strange black mist poured forth from the wounds. A faint smell of ozone radiated from him, and any electromagnetic signatures directed towards him would immediately have noted a massive surge in power generation. No personal power pack known could have pulled off the yield that was clearly evincing itself here.

The power spiked again, and Vector's gravimetric thrusters pulsed forward, sending his ravaged body towards the windows above the now heavily reinforced metal door. He could still see through that glass at least. The deflectors managed to force several incoming shells off course, and the ablatives took care of the lasers and anything that couldn't be diverted fast enough. Even so, when the monowire began scraping away at the glass, Vector was still minus his left arm and his right leg, and plus several dozen holes from the lasers. Those things packed a real wallop!

The glass was reinforced. The Monowire stripped it layer by layer with amazing speed, but it still only managed to tear off of the glass before the remainder of Vector's body impacted upon it. Weakened as it was by the monowire, it shattered into a great shower of ballistic shards as he burst through. The other arm went with that impact, for the Engineer cut ablative support for the arm when it was clear that it would make it to the window. Its continued existence after the impact was a secondary consideration at best.

The same went for his head.

Indeed, all that remained careening through the mezzanine was a headless torso with half of one leg still attached to it, still trailing streamers of black mist as it thudded to the floor and slid to a stop.

OOC: Lemme know if we need ta discuss things and I need to make some changes. I know we'd talked about 'the second floor' as an entry point and going through the mezzanine. So I hope I didn't overstep.

[The WIck]

Outside the Tower

Lance Corporal Jerry "J" Jenkins had to admit he was pretty amazed that the thing that was attempting to break into the Council Tower managed to get as far as it did. He looked past the target though a couple of the buildings that served as a backdrop were damaged. The ballistic glass that was required for ever building in the government center was designed to absorb the impact of many varieties of projectiles and even heavy air car impacts. The CIWS were accurate but they suffered from over penetration, they passed through the target with barely a notice only less than a second later they smashed into the ballistic glass. The Glass held for for the first couple rounds but others penetrated.

"Hitman 2, Hitman 2-2"

"J" sub-vocalized using his ansible to contact his platoon leader. While he was doing that he signaled to his men and began running in the direction of the breach.

"One enemy foot mobile just penetrated the perimeter and breached the 2nd floor of the tower. We are in pursuit."

They had nearly cover the 100 meters of the courtyard to the breech as he got near the building he jumped up his hands reaching a small ledge just below the 2nd floor and he pulled himself up before reaching down to help one of his fellow marines up.

"Hitman 2-2 Interrogative, count on enemy and description?" His PL asked him

"Hitman 2, Just one enemy, it appears to be down." He sub-vocalized again as he now saw the enemy on the floor of the mezzanine. "Point defense shredded it, but it did some crazy shit to breach the building suggest full mobilization."

"Hitman 2-2 we are on it. Finish it off we will be there in two mikes. Hitman 2 out."

The remainder of his platoon was the duty QRF for the day. They would be coming out in full power armor, it would take a couple minutes because they were deployed to protect the Government Center from external threats not some crazy pedestrian who some how bypassed all the security checkpoints. Capitol Police would be mobilizing their MRT teams and local patrol officers as per emergency response. And he knew that the Council had their own security forces inside the tower.

"What the hell is that thing J?" He heard the voice of the Ken Dowdry their Automatic Rifleman. "And whats up with this smoke? My scanner is picking up some an energy signature from it still."

"I don't know but I've seen how this movie ends. I'm not waiting for the bad guy to get back up."

J said as he pulled out a therobaric grenade. It was a six inch long cylinder and it was designed to destroy equipment by burning it into molten slag. It was not a fragmentation grenade that exploded and covered an area with fast moving shrapnel but rather when it exploded it was akin to a fuel air bomb. The shock wave alone would rupture internal organs and smash armored bulkheads. If that wasn't enough the fluoride aluminium inside the grenade acted as napalm 2.0 able to burn through modern power armor.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE. FIND COVER!"

He could tell from his HUD that his Marine already had done so having determined his intentions. He pulled the pin on the thermobaric grenade and shoved it into the chest of the being that laid on the floor. J then turned tail and rain behind a marble pillar about ten meters behind him. A moment passed before the entire floor shook and he watched debris blow past him pushed by the shock wave and he could swear he felt the heat of the explosion.

"Get some." J said as he turned the corner he raised up his carbine to see what remained.

The Lobby

It had been nearly two minutes since the attack had began. In that time the tower was secured against an assault. The entrances to each floor were locked and the lifts were halted only security personnel could gain access to those areas. If any one sought to gain access to another floor they would have to take the stairs.

Pretenses were over, the Confederation Security Service was known for their abilities to blend in with the crowd. Usually this allowed them to get the jump on any trouble makers that tried anything at the Tower. Today though something had slipped through all their security checkpoints something that was able to breach the Tower's point defense, something very dangerous then. They weren't trying to blend in now at all...they were about to show whoever was stupid enough to assault the Government Center that they would pay a dear price.

He stood with two of his partners in front of the access to the secure room each of them held an R-870 Flechette Gun which was arguably the most effective weapon in the Confederation arsenal at turning people into so much bloody goo. The Lobby had automated defense systems, nothing so large as the CIWS or the PD lasers and anti air missiles that were responsible for outer defense but there were nearly two dozen hard points that covered the lobby with interlocked fields of fire with automatic pulsar fire. It was one of the reasons that they only maintained a ten man team in the lobby they were backed up by a lot of tech and of course a Marine fire team. The other seven members of the security team took up positions in cover half on the mezzanine opposite of the first target and others around the ground floor. Each was armed with carbines just like what the Marines held and two more help Sonic Disruptors that would fry the nerves of a man's body and turn his brain into goo no mater what they wore for armor.

He watched an explosion consume a part of the mezzanine the shock wave blew out the railing and marble blocks that acted as the half wall around the mezzanine. Plants blew away in flames, whatever had been up there he suspected that it no longer had a care in the world. But it could just be the first enemy of many this day.

"Stay Frosty. If they want to get to the Council they have to get through us...If anything steps out that's not a Marine pulp em."

In The Safe Room

"Councilor you must evacuate."

She heard Warden Alexi's voice. He wanted her to turn tail and flee the building like the rest of the High Council did. Well they didn't have much choice in the matter, but she did.

"You know I won't"

She looked at her protector he was a Warden, they were the nastiest killing machines available to the Confederation, winter born and forged in fire and blood on one of the most dangerous planets in the galaxy. She could knew that Alexi was frowning even though his face was covered by the white skull mask all Wardens wore. His body was covered by the matte black armor that most Warden's favored covered by a grey cloak that was one of their trademarks. On his back was a long black blade besides a pistol at his side it was his only visible weapon.

He knew that his principle wasn't defenseless. The Warden himself made him aware of all her capabilities and abilities. While Herzer was the Warden and a fighter he truly feared ever to face he spoke of Daneh's ability in hushed tones. He watched as she donned her own armor it was sleek almost like that of boiled leather he remembered some fighters more concerned with dexterity don back on Miranda, and he watched her sheath her own edged blade it was a narrow curved single edged blade he recognized its construction as that the Knight-Errants used, they were the Confederation's "Jedi" but they learned their trade where he learned his own.

No Daneh wasn't defenseless.

He watched her sit crossed legged on the table in the center of the room as she began to meditate.

"I guess we wait." He said to himself.

"It appears we have guests today and I'd like to meet them."

[Godular]

The body lay on the floor, black mist emanating from the variety of wounds it had incurred and pooling upon the floor around it. The Mezzanine was surprisingly empty, considering how crowded-- and hellacious-- things were outside.

Vector: CHEAP FRAKKIN MONOWIRE! Thought it'd make it through. Good thing the power relays are still 'round tho!

Engineer: Preparing to disengage stealth chassis.

Vector: Yeh, I think this body's had it. Now we can pull out ALL the stops!

A pair of hands grabbed at the floor outside, and soon one of the soldiers from outside pulled himself up, turning around to help his companion up before moving closer to investigate the shredded husk shrouded in black fog. They yammered quietly on whatever comm frequency they were using, and received a response by the momentary pause they took before moving in with more purpose.

Vector: OO! I LOVE GRENADES!

"What the Hell is that thing, J?" One of them asked as they got close, but also kept a halfway respectable distance from the corpse. "And what is up with this smoke? My scanner is picking up some energy signature from it still."

The other pulled out a grenade. "I don't know, but I've seen how this movie ends. I'm not waiting for the guy to get back up."

Vector: Hey, Engineer guy... how's the shielding thing going?

Engineer: Let me guess, more creative use?

Vector: Yeh. When they jam that thing into me, wait until they ain't paying attention, then pin that sumbitch to the ceiling.

Engineer: Why not just return to sender?

Vector: I have a cunning plan!

Astronomer: Like screaming at the top of your lungs and giving them a big damn target before actually moving?

Vector: FRAK YOU SHUT UP. Oh, engineer guy, how fast can you switch to the combat chassis?

Engineer: Now that the power restrictions are removed? Sneeze and you'll miss it.

Vector: Heheheheheheh...

"FIRE IN THE HOLE, FIND COVER!"

The other soldier jammed the grenade into the body's wide open chest cavity and bolted for the safety of some nearby columns. The instant his attention was focused on getting out of the way, the grenade popped back out of its nesting place and was pressed into the ceiling above him. The shield itself simply ensured that none of the blast came back down on him, instead spreading out around the ceiling and also coming back down to incinerate any nearby plants.

At that exact moment, his power spiked monstrously, and the body itself rippled with activity and pulsed with a vast cloud of black mist. The explosion of the grenade, forced as it was against the ceiling, had the effect of causing a great amount of building material to collapse upon the body's resting place, leaving a massive pile of debris and a cloud of slightly blackish dust.

The soldier that had previously jammed the grenade into Vector’s body turned around from his hiding spot behind the column and pointed his rifle towards the mass of rubble as he moved out. “Get some,” he said as he emerged.

“Hey, hey guy…” A voice called out from beneath the rubble. “That was quite a welcome mat. I was wonderin’ if you were keen on a demonstration for a proprietary technology of ours. Y’see, it creates this spatial distortion thingamajig that just rips things all to hell and gone. Only has to last an instant, and everything caught in the distortion gets all kinds of dead. No radioactive fallout, no concussion shockwave, no chance in hell of survivors. Never seen it m’self, but hey. Just so happens I got one tucked in my brand spankin’ new chest. It ain't gonna be powerful, but I'm told it'll be more'n'enough to scrag this entire building and a couple nearby city blocks? Yeh.

“Now, I was sent here to create a big ruckus. Yellin’, Killin’, Laughin’, shit I’m REAL good at. But I’m also here for one person in partic’lars… you heard of her maybe? Daneh somethin’ I think? Kinda here to challenge her to a duel, on top O’ everythin’ else. Ain’t no reason we can’t keep this shit civilized, knowutimean? We know she’s here somewheres. Tells ya wut: I’m a right honorable person. You lot stop shooting and bombing and grenading and fartin’ in my general direction and shit, and take me to this Daneh person so’s we can have ourselves a right happy little duel for keepsies, and I super pinky-promise not to send all you sumbitches to meet your ancestors in one frakkin’ shot.

"Yay or nay-and-blown-away?”

[The WIck]

"Go ahead and do it. You types are all the same all fucking talk. I bet you'd even survive somehow like a character out of a cheap holo-drama. Cowards like you are always the same, so willing to kill others innocent or otherwise for their cause but never willing to die for it.”

He looked at the thing standing before him,

“Do it or shut your mouth I don’t mind which you pick it wouldn't be the first time I've died buddy, I'm a Marine."

The Lance Corporal was sure that the being whatever it was in front of him had not the slightest clue in the galaxy what that meant, nor what the Slaughterhouse was, nobody did but his brothers and sisters. A bomb was suppose to be some form of coercion? Get Real. And even if he did detonate it then what. The better half of a Brigade in power armor would be here by then and this guy would be dead for real or in custody.

A moment passed between them. Then he received a command from higher, he took a half a second to ensure that it was authentic.

"Well Pal, Its your lucky day I am told the Lady Ghorbani wants to see you."

The Poor fellow had just no idea what he was getting into.

"Go down the stairwell. You will see where the security contractors are by a big old metal door. They will let you through there to a secure room where Daneh Ghorbani awaits you. Good Luck."

And it was just as he was told. He would get to move encumbered to the Council Room. It was behind the metal doors down a narrow hallway about twenty meters in length. If he could detect things beyond what the naked eye could view he would have noticed that he was walking into what amounted to be quite a cage. Layers upon layers of battle steel and inhibitors surrounded the Council Room so that nothing could do harm to the Council as they meet. The corridor was the only possible way in or out.

As he walked into the room the door to the chamber shut. He would notice that it seemed a bit spartan for a High Council Chamber. The floor was a thatched carpet in the center of the room was a rectangular table whose top was only about two feet off the floor there were no chairs just a series of pillows surrounding the table. If the man knew anything about Daneh’s homeland, the Farstars, he would recognize it as a style practiced there.

No sound or any other evidence reached the conference room to attest to the fact that the entire corridor that lead to the room sealed shut as a solid piece of battle steel filled the walkway solid. As the Conference room had quite good privacy features.


Daneh Ghorbani knelt on one of the pillows on the opposite end of the table as her guest. She was tall for a human female over six feet. Her red hair cut closely to her head not more than a half an inch in length. She wore no leather armor nor did she carry a blade or any other weapon she sat before her guest wearing only simple olive drab pants and a woolen tunic and her Warden was no where in sight.

Before her was a plate with a small loaf of sweet bread and a cup of green tea.

“It is customary where I am from to offer a guest a drink and a meal. Please accept this modest offering, we usually put out a pretty good spread but we had little time to prepare with you showing up so...suddenly.”

She motioned at him to to accept the offering.

“Once you accept the bread and drink know that you are accepting in good faith my hospitality as a host to you my guest. If you act in good faith as my guest I promise no harm will come to you and it is understood that you will extend such courtesies to your host.”

“There is nothing so sacred as guest rights where in the Farstars, its a custom I hope to bring into wider use here. Do you not agree?”

[Godular]

A low rumble began to radiate from the pile of rubble once the marine had finished his diatribe, a rhythmic temblor more felt than heard. The debris began to shift, and as it did the vibration picked up in tone until it became audible as a chuckle, slowly rising into a full throated maniacal laugh. A strange tinge of bitterness could be sensed in the laugh, but its target could have been any number of things. The laughter continued as the marine received his message and provided instructions to Vector's target.

The debris parted, and Vector stepped into the open. His organic body was gone, replaced now by a vaguely humanoid form of a black so pure that it was difficult to distinguish where the black mist around him ended and the actual body began. The body would have been considered skeletal were it not for the plates of similarly black armor that even now seemed to be growing into place. The only difference in the decidedly monochromatic form was that of a sickly green light emanating from the otherwise featureless surface of the creature's face.

The laugh stopped for a moment, and the light turned towards the marine who had spoken, though the rest of its head remained completely motionless. Then the laughter resumed anew as Vector turned and walked away according to the marines instructions.

Astronomer: What's with the laugh?

Vector: If ya gotta ask, ya won't get it.

Nobody bothered him throughout his stroll, though he noted sneers on the armed personnel who showed him where to proceed further.

Vector: 'S like they feel sorry for me or somethin'. This should be entertainin' any which way it ends!

Soon enough he stood before his target. She seemed to be seated in as much of a non-threatening manner as possible, with a small loaf of bread and a teacup before her, but set for him. She spoke softly, with utmost control, and explained the custom of hospitality before waving him to accept the offering.

He thought about making some commentary about the small logistical difficulty of offering a creature with no mouth food, then decided that such quibbling was pointless. Instead, he sat down opposite Daneh, reached forward at a measured pace and took the bread up. With a slow movement, he tore the bread in two and placed it back on the plate, one oriented towards Daneh and the other on his side of the plate.

"Though I cannot eat, consider the bread broken and accepted."

Vector: WEEEEE I HAVE NO DAMN CLUE WHAT I'M DOING!

"We can think of one or two things we be holdin' in higher esteem, but opinions 're opinions."

[The WIck]

"What do you want?"

Daneh asked of her guest. If he was expecting anything more he came to the wrong place in entirely the wrong manner.

[Godular]

Whether the sudden shift into gruffness affected him or not, the lack of facial features and zero change in physical stance made it virtually impossible to determine.

Vector: WHEW! So we ain't gonna just sit here for an hour talking about the weather and shit! Woulda just detonated the shatterspace bomb and had done.

"I want a brajillion credits, a starship what makes a super star destroyer look like a paper airplane yet can still be piloted solo, a puppy, and galactic peace! Right now tho, I only need yer 'assistance' with that last one.

"Ahyem! I come bearing a message, to be punctuated in blood!

"Yours!

"I KNOW, I'M A TERRIBLE HOUSEGUEST. BAD HITMAN, BAD! USE DOORBELL NEXT TIME."

[The WIck]

Daneh listened to her guest's almost incoherent rambling...

"A hit man you say? My blood you want? How very terrible for me." She told him, "Can you at least tell me who requires me to pay such and price and perhaps why?"

[Godular]

Vector sat silently for a moment, as if lost in thought. Then his shoulders moved in an obvious shrug.

"I'unno. She tells us what needs doin' and it gets done. We can't ask questions."

He picked the bread back up and examined it further. "She monitors the channel."

[The WIck]

"It is a good thing that she does because I have something to say to her. So listen well, puppet to my next words."

Daneh told her guest,

"Whomever you are you have offered a grievous insult to me today. You sent this unprofessional child to kill me? You must not know who I am. I appriecate the warning. You just sent this being unannounced crashing into my doorstep buy so far no lives have been lost. Walk away now. Better still run away and return to whatever dark part of the galaxy you come from. If you continue on your current course your path will only end in your utter destruction."

She now talked to Vector,

"Forgive my manners bit I never asked your name? Where I come from it is considered right to know the name of the man who is going to kill you. It's an old custom I admit but you need to understand the reason behind it. A name identifies a person that person has a family that family owes allegiance to a larger organization, territory or nation. All so that those who have lost know with whom to serve their vengeance."

Her cold voice now warmed up just so slightly.

"I suppose some of those words were for her to. You see I've come to value my life there was a time when I'd have offered it easily for the gods and country. As you grow older though and form attachments to loved ones and watch your children grow you come to place a bit more worth in your self. I wonder if you can even understand that, such a human thing. Do you comprehend the measure of value we have for life? You threaten my own, you would take the lives of the men and women who protect this place, the people of this city...in exchange for mine. I do not fear death, I have felt it's cold embrace. You see me as a target of worth greater than the sum of those you'd kill to claim it. You have it wrong, if you asked me whose life was worth more mine or theirs its theirs. They would answer the opposite. All I've told you probably means nothing to you or your Mistress I guess it was just something that needed saying."