To Denounce the Evil of Truth and Love

[Gorba the Hutt]

To Extend Our Reach to the Stars Above​

Rorak 5,
Business Offices of the Bareesh Kajidic
Conference Room


Gorba sat in the conference room, waiting at the head of the oval table. He'd been waiting for the last five minutes. The dark wroshyr wood table's patterns proved boring after a few seconds studying them, so he'd spent the rest of those five minutes puffing up a storm from his hookah pipe. The room was now full of the vapor.

They were actually coming, right?

He'd invited them. So they had to come. That was how it worked.

[member="The Prince"] from the Exchange with his mysterious, coy smile. [member="Slevin Thawne"] and [member="Natalia Thawne"] from the Coratanni, as handsome as they were annoying. The enigmatic [member="Aver Brand"] from Nadir. And, of course, the austere banker [member="Tytos Ardik"] from the Helix Syndicate.

Seldom did such individuals gather together without steaming heaps of violence, which was why they would have their guards wait outside. No exceptions. Gorba didn't want some bodyguard earning a pittance on the payroll to start getting any ideas. A lot of them had active bounties with too many zeroes for someone like that not to at least think about it.

Hmph.

Of course, he wouldn't have to worry about that if no one showed.

But they would show. Wouldn't they?

Gorba looked at his cousin, [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"]. "Well?"

 

[Subject 37]

Slevin adjusted the cuff of his coat.

A small scowl sat upon his face, his disgust at his very presence here already more than plain. He hated the Hutts. They were something of an aberration to him, a species that by all accounts should have been slaughtered to the last thousands of years ago. Yet instead of being cast into the throws of the abyss the slugs hadn't just managed to survive, they'd thrived within this galaxy. Some how, some way the Hutts had always managed to drag themselves from the pits of nothing and build what amounted to little less than an entire Criminal Empire.

That very fact bothered him.

It wasn't jealousy of Envy of course, it was mainly just disgust that such filthy creatures could hold the same amount of influence as himself. The thought disturbed him in some great manner that he couldn't properly express. His immediate inclination was to slaughter them all, but once again his hand was being stayed by his better half.

Natalia, wise as ever, had counseled him against the wholesale slaughter of the Hutt species and had instead advised they take a closer look at the proposal on the table. His beloved was clever, and she saw the opportunity in front of them almost immediately. It had taken Slevin a bit longer, though not for a lack of intelligent. Prejudice was a difficult thing to overcome, and in truth Slevin had yet to do so. He frowned again, twisting the cuff slightly and setting the garment into place finally.

From the small table in front of him he scooped up his blade, slipping it into his pocket and glancing back at the mirror for just a moment.

Killing The Hutts would have been satisfying, but it wouldn't have helped the Cartel any. As always Natalia had been right, they needed to act friendly, or at least tolerant. In time things might change, but for now Slevin and his beloved would listen.

As long as they liked what they heard.

 

[Aver Brand]

A couple bored bodyguards smoking outside, swapping dumb stories about what dumb shet their dumb employers’d made them do one time or the other. The Kajidic guards were laughing too – the sweet bonding of lamenting a crappy boss. When the mercenary pair approached, one of them snapped to attention.

Not so careless after all.

A minute later, they were inside. No need to leave underpaid henchmen outside like puppies tied to a leash when you were your own bodyguard. In contrast to the suit, the dress, and the pile of green lard, they looked nothing like gang members. Or cartel kingpins. Or the heads of a shadowy syndicate.

[member="Loray Tares"] and Aver Brand looked like the type you paid to do your ugliest, meanest wetwork. There was the armor. And the weapons. And the fact that you couldn’t see their eyes, weighing you – sizing you up, perhaps, for the hole they’d later dig out back.

[member="Slevin Thawne"], she knew. The merc dipped her chin in recognition, gaze sliding to the woman at his side. Their body language screamed couple, but… well, in this business, you could never be sure. [member="Gorba the Hutt"], on the other side of the table, took up as much space as the rest of them together.

Not so much in terms of influence. This thing, this meeting? All about divvying up the galactic pool of victims and territory and seein’ to it that no inch remained unreachable to the long arm of the Underworld.

 

[Loray Tares]

She asked him not to bring it. Told him. Commanded it. These aren't friends, he thought, but they aren't enemies either. They aren't the sort that need dealing with, deals brokered somewhere along a path that he now converged. Footfalls through the woods, trudging into the blacktop that was his domain.

The metal slit of red, steaming and penetrating, turned towards [member="Aver Brand"] as they walked. There was something about a meeting, catalyzed by a gala. The sort of place that Loray only visited when he was bored, looking for amusement among the soon-to-be-slaughtered. And it wasn't the place for that, it wasn't the place for his sort of entertainment.

He moved into the room, a silent shadow, laced with tepid animosity. It wasn't that he had any particular hatred for those who were gathering, he was just like this. It was easier to accept if it was accepted without consideration, the reserves of his fire keyed up but for a select few.

But he did hate this particular place. The inconvenience, the way it hovered over Rorak 4 and sat in proximity Nar Shaddaa. That, that was a place worth visiting and by the looks of those who were gathered, would be a place gleefully accepted. The sort of place where antics could go on, without notice. But here, he felt stifled and contained, entrenched on all sides by the vacuum of space. So he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, as he focused the front of his helmet towards [member="Gorba the Hutt"]. He gave a singular passing glance to [member="Slevin Thawne"] and his friend.

 

[Nor'baal Durga Bareesh]

Sitting off to his Cousins right; the symbolic position of the 'right hand man' in meetings sich as these, Nor'baal Bareesh gave a discrete nod when Gorbe addressed him. At the time of doing so, the two of them stood alone in the room, Gorba in his usual manner - au natural if you will, whilst Nor'baal stood like a jewellery store just waiting to be robbed. <I do not feel there is need for concern Cousin; at least on the face of it we are all here to make friends today....> Nor'baal began in his native Huttese. <Of course, once the doors close it is almost certain that key details of our agreements will be overlooked.> he added with a knowing look.

The Hutt had not got to his position today without a few well placed 'bouts of amnesia' over which food to poison, which deals to break and more besides. It was the way of things. <As always, play the King yet keep the Ace.> he counselled, not that his Cousin would have needed such advice - no doubt having reached such conclusions himself already. His work done, he waved over a droid who sprayed him with an outlandishly scented perfume, adding to his gaudy image - itself part of his act as a spoilt fop.

As the doors opened to admit people, he gave a great grin to each of them, toasting them with his goblet (itself filled with watered down wine so as to avoid intoxication), to establish the image that he was no threat, after all, what danger could a drunken eccentric pose?

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Ifan ben-Mezd's eyes shined through the vapor of the Hutt Lord's hookah pipe as some of the most dangerous faces in the galaxy filtered into the room alongside him. The wry grin splayed across his olive toned features served to mask the Exchange representative's deep discomfort and sense of disadvantage. It was true that the organization he represented was older than many of the enterprises represented here today, but for some time the Salvatrucha Economic Development Corporation had kept a low profile, allowing the galaxy some time to conveniently forget its more egregious ties to organized crime and reorganizing its assets sufficiently through shell subsidiaries to once more hold a manufactured air of legitimacy.

The reality was, they had been out of the game, and it was no longer clear how much weight the Red Ravens' name carried in the galactic underworld.

So here he was, surrounded by strangers, a new player in the region that nonetheless insisted on being treated like old royalty. The Prince could almost hear the vibro knives sharpening all around him as he almost seemed to glide rather than walk to his seat at the conference table, his feet shrouded under ostentatious, silken noble's robes. Before a word was exchanged, and without seeking permission, Ifan too lit a cigarra that had been produced from within his gaudy attire, and began discreetly puffing away.

His Trandoshan bodyguard, Hakar, had repeatedly insisted that he should be allowed to accompany Ifan into the meeting, but the Prince had refused. It was a risk, of course, entering a room of trained killers without backup. Like most aspects of the business he was in, there was a non zero percent chance of a horrific death. But while ben-Mezd was no great warrior, he was not exactly incapable of defending himself. And more than anything, he relied on the relative safety of his status as a middle man. If he died here, today, the Exchange would just send another representative tomorrow with orders to negotiate slightly less favorable terms.

As he ran through these macabre scenarios, the Prince smiled even wider. The best games always held the highest stakes.

[member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Slevin Thawne"] [member="Aver Brand"] [member="Loray Tares"] [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"]

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

Tytos was, apparently, among the last to arrive. The Umbaran was accompanied by a rather fierce looking Morgukai Warrior. A security precaution, as usual. You had to prepare for the worst in these sorts of meetings. He did not like meeting with people in person. Especially these people. But nodded respectfully to the host and his cousin as he entered regardless. Manners cost nothing, even among cutthroats.

These were hardly the most trustworthy people in the galaxy, but Tytos imagined he could do worse. The Hutts were the least of his concern. They were predictable and, more often than not, easily rendered complacent. Besides, Gorba had proved a reliable enough customer already, even after Clelon had insulted him, the fool of a Toydarian. The two from Nadir, the scary pair, were slightly less predictable, but Tytos was not worried about them. They were mercenaries. They would only kill if paid enough to do so. Considering the Syndicate's dealings and favorable arrangements with Nadir in the past, they would be well aware that Tytos could match whatever potential price was put on his head and then some. Possibly triple. What could be said? He found being alive to be vastly preferable to being, you know, dead.

As far as Tytos could tell, the only one here to match him in terms of disposable credits would be the Exchange's representative. Someone to keep an eye on. The Exchange was a slumbering giant if there ever was one. Tytos would be happy to find himself on the same side of the negotiating table should it ever awaken. And it probably would. Why else would a representative be here? Finally, there was the Coratanni ambassador. He was the one that truly worried Tytos. From what he understood, the people who led the Coratanni were not easily swayed by anything other than their bizarre, feral urges. They were not good company. Reliable fodder, though. Gorba doubtlessly had some grander scheme in mind to bring them here. It was like having a hyena sit at the same table as lions.

Well. Four lions and two gargantuan slugs. What a delightful menagerie this was.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

The Hutt nodded. Nor'baal made sense. He usually did, until he decided to play the fool. His cousin enjoyed being underestimated, relishing in the grand reveal of his true intellect, along with heavy chortling. Useful, very useful, but dangerous. Kazbog might have had schemes to usurp him from time to time, but he constantly distracted himself with shiny trinkets and beautiful women. Nor'baal was a Hutt of a different sort.

Attention shifted as the guests entered, one-by-one or in twos. Coratanni, check, looking excited to be here. And then the- what in the ever-living pulsar?

Gorba's eye twitched as [member="Aver Brand"] and [member="Loray Tares"] entered, armored and armed to the gills, looking about as friendly as a Nexu whose cub you just kicked. Shifting, Gorba inhaled, then blew out another cloud of hookah vapor. They wouldn't possibly try anything here. That would just be absurd.

Still...

The Hutt cleared his throat as two more humans entered, the Prince and Tytos. Hmph. The banker looked different. Did he have more fur on his face? Hard to tell with these humans.

"Bo shuda, chobaso." He steeled himself. If he didn't speak in Basic half of them would claim they misunderstood the terms and the whole thing would become a mess. Useless. "We know each other. We are all players in the business. We could leave and resume fighting each other over our borders, like every player that came before, or we could reach a mutually beneficial agreement."

He glanced at Slevin. "Some of us have already seen the benefits. But if we can all come to the table and agree, our businesses will flow with money instead of blood."

[member="Tytos Ardik"] | [member="The Prince"] | [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"] | [member="Slevin Thawne"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Gorba the Hutt"] | [member="Tytos Ardik"] | [member="The Prince"] | [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"] | [member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Loray Tares"]

"I have absolutely no interest in seeing my actions dictated by a collective of deviants and scum." Insulting every single person at the table at the start of negotiations probably wasn't a good move, but Slevin wasn't here to be diplomatic.

The deals that he had arranged with both Gorba and Nadir were ones that were solid, but mostly at their core they were little more than 'you stay away from me and I stay away from you'. Slevin could appreciate something like that, it allowed for growth and lack of war, setting things in place perfectly so everyone could have their own little partition of the galaxy. With this many players however? Well there was bound to be some string attached to everything.

Slevin had no interest in any of those strings coming near him.

Coratanni was it's own entity, in control of itself and the territory that it had gathered. Any idea of forming a 'council', overarching Syndicate, or anything of the sort was entirely and absolutely out of the question. Unless of course, he were to lead it. That outcome was unlikely given the personalities within the room, though the thought tickled him a little bit.

Slowly the Crime Lord glanced about.

It occurred to him that every single person around this table probably thought the exact same thing as he did. Amusing.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Ifan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The noble hadn't exactly been expecting the reaction of statesmen to Gorba's proposal given the present company, but there was something uniquely unsettling about being called scum and not immediately having the offender taken out of the room and spaced or shot. Easier said than done, he thought to himself as his shining eyes pierced the haze in their evaluation of [member="Slevin Thawne"]. Instead, his fingertips brushed the panic button concealed within the folds of his robes. If he signaled, Hakar could be here in a matter of seconds, but if things got bloody that would mean more than enough time to potentially seal the Exchange representative's fate.

"Coratanni has a point, even if his choice in words is a bit...colorful," the Prince's voice was cloying like honey, with just an edge of something sinister in his tone, "There is no love lost between my organization and the Hutt cartels, in particular. Perhaps you should elaborate on what form you imagine these 'agreements' will take."

He knew just enough about Coratanni to know they were dangerous, not to be trifled with by the average players, and even for the movers like the others in this conference room, best if handled with great care and finesse. Brutal, yet calculating, a potent combination, and one Ifan admired. To a point. For his own part, ben-Mezd preferred his organization's proclivity for subterfuge and the finer things. As his unnervingly still eyes tracked the room, the Exchange vigo could not help but wonder how much they knew about his own operation. Not fronts like the Golden Nautolan on Nar Shaddaa, everyone in the know, knew who really ran that casino.

Salvatrucha's expansion to Nadir was a recent one, and not entirely up and running yet besides. The Prince had taken a great risk in accepting the invitation of [member="Gorba the Hutt"]. Although ben-Mezd was, of course, just another pseudonym, it was recently established on Nadir, so instead he had referred to himself so far simply as Amir. But he had already shown his face, far earlier than he had ever intended, and now he was sitting in a room with those he had planned on manipulating from the shadows. If Ifan had come all this way simply to hear a Hutt's turbolift pitch about how they all worked for his kajidic now, he suspected he just might hit that panic button anyway.


[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Tytos Ardik"] | [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"]

 

[Aver Brand]

In many ways, the lot of them were sitting down to play the highest-stakes Sabacc game the Underworld had seen in years. And all without cards, and credits, and promises on the table. Instead of a pile of chips, their buy-ins were the piles of bodies they’d climbed over to reach the top.

Aver remained motionless in her chair, well aware of [member="Loray Tares"] behind her to the left. Certainly, the invitation had said ‘no bodyguards’, but there were precautions one could take that either circumvented or voided the stipulation entirely. The Equalizers themselves were a walking defiance. Others… well. She would not for a moment buy that they had arrived defenceless.

Theirs wasn’t a business that favored the lucky. It favored the prepared.

No need to echo what [member="Slevin Thawne"] and [member="The Prince"] had already demanded of [member="Gorba the Hutt"]. She merely canted her head to the side in expectation of his next words.

They could very well make or break this arrangement of his.

[member="Tytos Ardik"] | [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

Loray yawned behind the guise of his helmet, shifting attention to each person talking with the subtlest of movements. Yes, he agreed, councils were for governance. Agreements were only as good as the people willing to keep them. Volatile in such a market, one bullet from someone not in the fold could bring the whole thing down.

What was the point of something if a single bullet could change the course?

His gaze shifted to [member="Aver Brand"] as she remained quiet. She was taking his approach to things. Albeit, absent the seething that came as token component of his company within such a suit. The suit made the man, it seemed.

Resting against the wall, he continued his long drawn out gaze towards the Hutt. It was easy to stare someone down when they couldn't be sure you were staring them down at all.

[member="The Prince"] | [member="Slevin Thawne"] | [member="Gorba the Hutt"] | [member="Tytos Ardik"] | [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"]​

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

The very idea of attempting to micro-manage Slevin's business resulted in the onset of another powerful migraine, like the thundering of drums in his skull. Another gift left to him by the Vermilic from the same explosion that took his eye.

He inhaled deeply, briefly battling the urge to swarm across the table and smother the human beneath his bulk. As temporarily entertaining as it might be, he couldn't imagine snuffing out the human's life being worth the effort it would take to slither over there.

"Echuta. Coo ya maya stupa. I don't care about your actions, human, as long as they don't interfere with mine." His eye swiveled to look at [member="The Prince"]. "That is the point. We draw lines on a map, indicating our territory. The others stay away. If one of us is attacked, we get rid of the opposition. Other than that..."

Wide lips clamped around the stem of the hookah pipe. He breathed in and felt the migraine abate a little, then blew out the vapors in a thick cloud.

"...who cares? I don't tell you how to run your businesses."

[member="Slevin Thawne"] | [member="Tytos Ardik"] | [member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"] | [member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Gorba the Hutt"] | [member="Tytos Ardik"] | [member="The Prince"] | [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"] | [member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Loray Tares"]

At least the Hutt was smart enough for that.

In truth Slevin had expected it to try and grab as much power as it possibly could during this entire meeting. It seemed however that the slug was more clever than others of it's kind, a feature that Slevin could at the very least respect. The Crime Lord stared across the table.

A question came to him, an important one. What would Natalia want? Coratanni was never meant to be controlled, their actions were their own and if The Hutt was to be believed then things would remain that way. Of course there had been something else he'd said; protection. Mutual defense of their territories. The thought was noble, but the question was would any of them truly cooperate with such a thing? Slevin wasn't entirely sure about the others, but he himself enjoyed more than his share of violence.

"There is a way to make this work." He stated simply, glancing at the others. "But it requires methods of enforcement."

There was no trust here. "If territory is breached among ourselves all parties must fall upon the aggressor."

None of the organizations here could stand against all of the other organizations, and if the looming threat of the other Syndicates hung over them no one at this table would move against the other. Not if they had a modicum of common sense anyway.

"Provided that can be arrangedto..." He trailed off. "Coratanni would have no issue with allowing an agreement of...whatever the kark this will be."

 

[Aver Brand]

Preferred to keep her hands off the table in such settings. Could reach her gun quicker that way.

As the Hutt and then Thawne spoke again, Aver slowly leaned forward in her chair. The weak light above the table finally fell upon the smooth plane of her faceplate. The painted skull offered them all a grin the merc did not share. Arrogance and entitlement seeped from every word spoken so far, and words only held so much weight as the man behind them.

Or slug, as the case may be.

Still, the proposition was now on the table, and it had its merits. She brushed against [member="Loray Tares"] for a momentary confirmation, then gave a shallow nod.

“This can work.”

For how long or how well, of course, remained to be seen. But with friends like these...

[member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Slevin Thawne"] [member="The Prince"] [member="Tytos Ardik"] [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"]​

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

[member="Slevin Thawne"] | [member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Loray Tares"] | [member="The Prince"] | [member="Gorba the Hutt"]

Truth be told, he had been waiting to see which side Nadir fell on. Don't want to go stepping on any toes. There were already arrangements between the two, better to not see them dissolved over a dispute regarding a potential policy's merits.

Tytos leaned forward in his seat and spoke in his usual dull, flat, faintly aristocratic voice. "The Syndicate will be happy to accept the terms of a mutual defensive pact," He paused, appearing to acknowledge what Slevin had said (The Coratanni man gone longer without swearing this time - truly progress had been made), then added, "Such as they are."

 

[Zark San Tekka]

The lone holdout, Ifan let the silence hang in the room as the attention slowly shifted in his direction. Shining eyes pierced the haze as the Exchange rep scanned across each face in the room in turn, an expression on his features like that of a great white shark sizing up potential prey. It was a tempting offer, even if it would stifle Salvatrucha's expansion into certain regional markets, the gains to be made in risk assessment expenditures were...promising. Alone, each of them wielded not inconsiderable influence, but counted together they were kingpins on a galactic scale.

Still, the paranoid narcissist in him could not help but wonder if this was somehow related to his recent moves to corner some of the market on Point Nadir, or something else entirely. The Prince did not know [member="Gorba the Hutt"], or his cousin [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"]. But he knew Hutts, and they were prideful well past a fault. For one of them to admit that he would be stronger with outside help, there had to be some ulterior motive. And what better way to find out what that motive truly was?

"Gentlebeings," he began just as the impatience in the room looked like it might turn violent, "I believe an accord can be reached here. My organisation is not the type to hold grudges, or cling to the past. We are forward thinking, as is this proposal. Provided the mighty Lord Gorba's intentions are genuine."

[member="Slevin Thawne"] [member="Aver Brand"] [member="Loray Tares"] [member="Tytos Ardik"]

 

[Loray Tares]

An accord, an agreement, a defensive pact.

Terms used for those who feared chaos and madness. Terms used for those who looked for assistance when the boundaries of their world grew just a bit smaller. When instead of expanding, they shrunk beneath the weight of competition and rival gangs. Exocytosis, when the exact opposite was expected.

He looked towards [member="Aver Brand"], giving her every bit of confirmation that she needed. She was, after all, the order to his madness. But there was one thing that he couldn't abide - it was the aspect of keeping another house in order.

That wasn't their way.

They could fight when aggression was made between those involved in the agreement because, as it stood with the Equalizers, and accepted agreement was an unwavering pact. If they couldn't stand for such, there was no point in existing as mercenaries.

And he took pleasure in catering to a moral that he never carried in the life that preceded this one.

It still felt weak but again, he had very little focus or care when it came to such diplomacy.

[member="The Prince"] | [member="Slevin Thawne"] | [member="Tytos Ardik"] | [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"] | [member="Gorba the Hutt"]​

 

[Nor'baal Durga Bareesh]

The conversation had recovered remarkably well from the off; with a rather divisive comment coming from one of their number, Nor'baal had almost been ready to write this off to the annals of history. All things considered, this is going rather well, the Hutt mused, after all - nobody had reached for a gun thus far. Well...yet....he added to his thoughts as he took another dash from his pipe. From where Nor'baal was sitting, it seemed like nobody wanted an open conflict yet nobody really wanted peace. For some of those in the room it was possible that a concession of peace would be seen as a weakness - giving one's enemy a chance to build up strength perhaps?

As the discussion continued to build, the Hutt kept silent - there was a time and a place for his interjections, and it was obvious to him that here presented neither.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Intentions? Why, what could his intentions be if not sincere.

"Of course they are. You wouldn't have come otherwise," he rumbled.

"Tagwa? Grancha. Grancha. Now, betrayal of this... this compact will require the others to remove the offending party. Entirely."

The myriad of possibilities that particular door opened up left Gorba practically wriggling in his seat. However, the Hutt had grown hungry and he'd forgotten to have lunch catered today. This left him vexed. And Gorba did not like feeling vexed, especially when it came to food. As soon as this was over he and Nor'baal could throw that feast they'd planned. And, he supposed, Kazbog would show up too, if only to thrust himself upon their slaves and food alike.

"Are we in agreement?"

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Slevin Thawne"] | [member="The Prince"] | [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"] | [member="Tytos Ardik"] | [member="Natalia Thawne"]