Private About as cozy as a Wampa’s cave

[Danger Arceneau]

Carlac
OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
Interacting with Shannic Wulf
| Dress x | x | x | x | x | x | X | X |

​

As Danger Arceneau stepped off her ship onto the icy surface of Carlac, she couldn't help but wonder if the assurances she'd been given about her safe passage were genuine -- or just a ploy. But she wasn't one to be easily rattled. After all, this wasn't her first tango with the Imperials or Sith.

Arceneau Trade had long operated within the Dark Empire's space since before their dominon of the region, with assets and workers on Empress Teta and Ithor. Danger had always played by the rules, even more so after the Imperial's arrival, following their inspections, paying their tariffs, and maintaining a neutral stance that allowed her to trade across the galaxy without taking sides. But now, with this new decree, that very neutrality might be seen as treason. If ATC's status was being revoked, she needed to ensure the safety of her workers and, if possible, broker a deal to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed or arrests. The people staffing those locations were local citizens, after all, just trying to make an honest wage.

To buy time and protect her employees, she'd placed them on paid furlough, leaving only a skeleton crew of droids and guards to maintain operations. But that was only a temporary solution. What she needed was a permanent one -- a way to keep ATC's operations running smoothly while keeping her people safe.

That's why she'd requested this in-person meeting, despite the risks. Aeri Vyn, her trusted right hand, had been left in charge, keeping a close eye on the situation and monitoring Danger's biometrics remotely. If anything went sideways, Aeri would know, and she'd have contingencies in place.

As Danger approached the meeting, she took a deep breath, her mind racing with strategies. She was here to negotiate, to show the Imperials that Arceneau Trade was more valuable as an ally than as a target. But she was also prepared for whatever might come, ready to protect her people and her business at any cost. The summit with her counterparts had provided the Queen of Trade options to consider and routes to take depending how it turned out.

With a final glance around the frosty world of Carlac, Danger stepped down the ramp into the freezing cold, bundling the fur cloak around her tighter. Born and raised on Tatooine, she despised the cold. Hated it with a passion. With luck it would be warmer on the inside. At this point she was too damn old to have to worry about freezing her arse off while trying to come up with negotiations.

Then again, who else could do it? Myra was pregnant and she by no means had the intesntional fortitude to handle this type of negotiation. The last thing she also needed was the chance of getting the pregnant heiress arrested and then there would be a whole nother hot bucket of Giju to have to sort through. No, she could handle herself one way or another. If things went sideways... well, she had the assurrances from those on the Summit that they would assist if needed.

With a deep breath, Danger straightened her posture, her mind focused on the task ahead. Up ahead, the imposing structure loomed, where the Dark Empire's representative awaited.

Well they certainly spare no punches with the architecture... Danger mused, the corner of her mouth twisting in subtle amusment.

Her smile was as warm as a summer's day in Naboo's Lake Country, radiating charm and grace, but her eyes -- sharp as a Jeco's talon -- betrayed the keen awareness and shrewdness that had earned her the title of Queen of Trade.

With a purposeful amble, she moved forward, each full-hipped step deliberate, her presence edged with confidence yet inviting. It was time to get the cogs of this wheel going.

Hopefully some measure of understanding could be settled. After all, she was knowingly walking into the Rancor's den on a thin line tighter than a Sarlacc's belly.

 

[Shannic Wulf]

Danger Arceneau


Gustav Klint, an attaché from the office of the Grand Vizier, stood at the entrance of the Carlac base, his silhouette sharp against the bleak, icy landscape. The frigid wind tugged at his cloak, but he remained unmoved, his expression as icy as the world around him. The base itself loomed behind him, a fortress carved into the frozen terrain, its cold, angular architecture a testament to the Empire's unyielding presence on Carlac.

As the ship descended, Klint's gaze was steady, his mind cataloging every detail with the efficiency that had earned him his position. The arrival of Danger Arceneau was a matter of importance, though not for the reasons she might assume. Arceneau Trade had long been a player within the Empire's territory, and now, with the shifting tides of power, her presence here was both a formality and a test. Klint had no illusions about the nature of this meeting; it was less negotiation and more assessment, a weighing of worth in the cold scales of Imperial judgment.

When Arceneau finally disembarked, Klint stepped forward, the crunch of his boots on the icy ground the only sound in the stillness. He offered her a courteous nod, his words clipped but polite.

"Ms. Arceneau," he said, his tone carrying a hint of warmth that did little to thaw the chill in the air, "Welcome to Carlac. I trust your journey was...uneventful."

He didn't wait for her reply before turning to lead her into the base. The halls they passed through were stark, almost austere, with their polished durasteel walls reflecting the dim, artificial light that lined the ceiling. Statues of Imperial officers, carved with a precision that bordered on the fanatical, stood like silent sentinels, their stony gazes following the pair as they moved deeper into the complex. The air was thick with an unspoken message: you are in the Empire's heart now, Klint thought.

As they approached the main meeting room, the atmosphere shifted subtly. The outer halls, designed to impress with their scale and severity, gave way to a space that was more carefully curated, each element chosen for its impact. The room they entered was dominated by a grand oval table, its surface polished to a sheen that reflected the muted light from the chandelier above. The high-backed chairs, upholstered in rich, crimson leather, were arranged with military precision, each one a throne of sorts, demanding respect from those who occupied them.

Klint motioned for Arceneau to take a seat, his own posture relaxed, though his eyes missed nothing.

"Please," he said, his voice softer now, "make yourself comfortable. The Empire prides itself on its hospitality...where it is earned."

The stormtroopers that lined the room, their white armor gleaming under the cold light, remained statuesque until Klint dismissed them with a slight gesture.

"That will be all," he said, the authority in his voice unquestionable. The soldiers filed out silently, leaving the room quieter, more intimate, but no less intimidating.

Once alone, Klint guided Arceneau to an adjacent antechamber, a more private space reserved for the delicate balance of true negotiation. The shift from the opulent meeting room to this more secluded area was subtle but deliberate. Here, the furnishings were luxurious, almost decadent – a pair of deep armchairs, a heavy, intricately carved desk, and a fireplace that cast a flickering blue light, more for atmosphere than warmth. The walls were lined with books, their spines uncracked, suggesting they were more for show than study. Above them, a large holographic display of the galaxy rotated slowly, a constant reminder of the Empire's vast reach.

Klint moved with an easy grace, gesturing to the armchair opposite his own as he took his seat. He allowed a brief moment for Arceneau to absorb the room's atmosphere, understanding the psychological game at play.

"Ms. Arceneau," Klint began, his voice now carrying a nuanced blend of cordiality and steel, "I believe you understand the significance of today's meeting. The Empire values those who contribute to its strength and stability. I trust that, together, we can find a path forward that serves both your interests and the Empire's."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the air between them. The room, with its calculated blend of luxury and intimidation, seemed to lean in closer, as if the very walls were listening.

"Our discussions today," Klint continued, his gaze steady, "will determine the future of Arceneau Trade within the Empire's sphere. I am here to ensure that this future is...mutually beneficial."

There was a softness to his tone now, almost a gentleness, but it was undercut by the unmistakable undercurrent of Imperial authority. This was not just a negotiation; it was an evaluation, a moment in which the true balance of power would reveal itself. Klint, ever the consummate diplomat, was prepared to guide the conversation to its inevitable conclusion, one where the Empire's interests remained paramount.

With that, he settled back into his chair, his eyes never leaving Arceneau's, the smile on his lips a mere shadow of the thoughts turning behind them. The game had begun, and in this room, within the depths of the Empire's stronghold, the stakes were as high as they were clear.

****************************************​

Shannic sat in the comfort of her office, deep within the Imperial base. She was curious to watch what would unfold. She listened and watched, the small holocameras placed about the room offering her unrivalled views, even the ability of 'closeups' on the guest. She wanted to study her.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Carlac
OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
Interacting with Shannic Wulf
| Dress x | x | x | x | x | x | X | X |

​

And lo, the assessment began.

Danger Arceneau didn't miss a beat as she stepped into the antechamber, her eyes sweeping over the room with the practiced ease of someone who took in the scene and noted the touches purposely made to convey a specific tone.

The shift from the grand meeting room to this more intimate space was a maneuver she recognized well. It was all about setting the stage, and oh, did Imperials love its performances. She would absorb the subtle intimidation tactics -- the uncracked books, the cold blue light, the holographic galaxy that seemed to hum with the Empire's vast ambition. They had certainly set this scene well -- and, luxurious of luxuries, a fireplace.

She allowed herself a quiet, genteel, appreciative smile, the flickering blue light from the fireplace playing off her auburn hair like a dance of embers. With grace, she took off her furred coat, allowing it to be taken to be hung up.

The plush armchair Klint indicated was as inviting as a warm Chandrillian afternoon, and she eased herself down, crossing her legs with the elegance of someone who knew her own worth. She let her fingers graze the armrests of the chair, her touch light and deliberate, as if she were testing the waters of this delicate dance. Now, it was to be seen if that would also be assessed by the Dark Empire Representative as well.

"Thank you, Mr. Klint," she drawled; her voice had a molasses-like richness, carrying just the right mix of respect and resolve. "I do appreciate the hospitality. It ain't every day a lady gets such a grand tour through the Empire's finer quarters." Her smile was cordial and respectful, and she inclined her head in gratitude.

She listened as Klint laid out his words, a well-mixed cocktail of flattery and firm expectation. It was a familiar tune, and Danger let him play it, nodding thoughtfully as if she were savoring every note. But she knew better than to get swept away by the melody. If one was lulled too much by it, she would be well in over her head.

"Well, Arceneau Trade's always had a mind for collaboration -- after all, there ain't no good business in burnt bridges, now is there?" Danger replied, her tone warm yet measured. She leaned back, her posture relaxed, but her mind was racing regarding what carefully selected words to utilize to continue the conversation and, hopefully, get a resolution that would work without bloodshed.

Danger continued, her fingers tapping lightly on the armrest as she spoke, each word carrying the weight of a legacy she'd built above and beyond from her granddaddy's dream with her own two hands. "Arceneau Trade wasn't just built to shuffle a few goods from one planet to the next," she began, her voice as smooth , with just a hint of a drawl that added a touch of warmth to every word.

"I've worked hard to ensure we can move anythin' -- from medicine to fuel, raw materials to the finest luxuries -- across this galaxy and beyond. We've reached into the Exo-galaxies and even dipped our toes in Otherspace. Ain't no corner of the 'verse too far or too dangerous for Arceneau Trade." It wasn't pride in her soft voice; it was just facts. Assurances that could be easily investigated and researched. Not once in her history with Arceneau Trade has her reputation been brought up as maligned or with the taint of damaged integrity.

She shifted her gaze, meeting Klint's eyes with a look that was both friendly and formidable like a well-sharpened blade sheathed in a velvet glove.

"My reputation stands on the fact that we fulfill our contracts, no matter the entity or sector as a neutral party. We've always been willin' to play by the rules -- your inspections, your tariffs -- whatever it takes to keep those trade lanes open and flowin'. Arceneau Trade is more than just a business; it's a lifeline for hundreds of companies, production facilities, refineries, and agricultural worlds. Our reach is vast, our collaborations many, and that's what allows us to keep our prices fair and our delivery times dependable."

Danger leaned forward slightly, the flicker of the blue firelight casting a glow that made her emerald fire eyes gleam like the Twin Suns. "Consistency, reliability, transparency, and a steadfast commitment to our partners -- that's what Arceneau Trade is all about. And I reckon, when it comes to movin' the goods that keep this galaxy runnin', there ain't nobody who does it quite like us. "

She let her words settle, the room's luxurious stillness amplifying the stakes at hand.

"So if it's about findin' a way forward that works for all of us and ensures the safety of my workers and trade, I'm willin' to find common ground that honors the Empire's needs, just as much as it honors the livelihoods of my employees. We're all about findin' that sweet spot where business can thrive -- without any unnecessary... complications. Cause at the end of the day, my word is my honor, and Arceneau Trade's success is built on a foundation of trust and integrity that I aim to uphold, come what may."

The Queen of Trade paused, letting her words sink in, her expression calm and confident, yet well aware that this could go sideways at any moment, doing her best to exude the air of a woman who knew the worth of her empire and the value of a deal done right. "So tell me, Mr. Klint - how can we make this work, together?"

 

[Shannic Wulf]

Danger Arceneau

Klint's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as Danger Arceneau’s words settled in the space between them, her tone rich with assurance and promise. The blue flames in the holographic fireplace seemed to flicker in time with his thoughts as he weighed her proposal with the precision of a seasoned diplomat, accustomed to the delicate balance of power and persuasion.

He could appreciate the gravity of the situation — after all, the Empire’s newly imposed trade laws were designed to tighten their grip on the galaxy's supply lines, to ensure that the flow of goods served the Empire first and foremost. But here sat Danger Arceneau, a woman whose own empire was built on the very foundation of free trade and neutrality, challenging him to find a way forward that would preserve her vast network without compromising the Empire’s goals.

Klint took a measured breath, leaning forward in his own chair, the gesture mirroring hers but with an air of calculated intent. His voice, when he spoke, was smooth, layered with the kind of subtle authority that came with his position as a representative of the Dark Empire.

“Ms. Arceneau,” he began, his tone almost conspiratorial, as if they were co-conspirators in this delicate dance, “the Empire recognizes the value of a well-oiled trade machine, especially one as expansive and efficient as Arceneau Trade. However, you and I both know that the times are changing, and with them, the nature of business itself. The Emperor's edicts are clear — the galaxy’s resources must be directed towards the strength and security of the Empire.”

He paused, letting that sink in, his eyes keenly observing her reaction, though she gave little away.

“That said,” Klint continued, his voice dropping to a more intimate pitch, “there are always... opportunities for those who are willing to adapt, to find the sweet spot, as you so aptly put it. The Empire is not unreasonable, Ms. Arceneau. We understand that flexibility is key in trade, just as it is in governance. And where there is flexibility, there is room for... mutually beneficial arrangements.”

He let his words hang in the air for a moment, before leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he outlined his thoughts.

“The Empire's new trade laws are strict, yes. They are designed to ensure that the flow of goods serves our interests first. But there is room for negotiation, provided that certain conditions are met. For instance, Arceneau Trade could be granted exemptions from certain tariffs and inspections, allowing your goods to move more freely, even across newly restricted borders. However, such exemptions would come at a cost —an additional tax levied in which a significant percentage of your profits from Non-Imperial avenues of trade would be funnelled back into our coffers.”

He watched her carefully, gauging her reaction as he continued.

“Moreover, to ensure the Empire's objectives are met without any... complications, we would require access to Arceneau Trade's logistical data and shipping routes. Of course, this information would be kept strictly confidential, but it would allow us to ensure that your operations align with the Empire's interests, and in return, we could offer you prioritized access to critical resources and markets under our control.”

Klint allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible smile. “In essence, Ms. Arceneau, I’m proposing a partnership that elevates Arceneau Trade above the fray of these new restrictions. You would become a key partner to the Empire.”

He paused, then added with a touch of finality, “In exchange, the Empire would benefit from a steady flow of revenue, exclusive access to your supply chains, and the assurance that Arceneau Trade’s vast network is working to support our broader strategic goals.”

Klint let his gaze lock with hers, his expression one of calm confidence. “The question is, Ms. Arceneau, are you willing to evolve Arceneau Trade into something greater — something that not only survives but thrives under the Empire's new order?”

He looked behind her, his eyes almost

He knew the proposal was audacious, perhaps even risky, but in his experience, the greatest opportunities often were. And if anyone could navigate the complexities of such an arrangement, it was Danger Arceneau. Now, it was up to her to decide if she would seize this opportunity, or if she would attempt to chart a course that might lead her to dangerous waters.

"Your thoughts?" he added, his voice carrying just a hint of challenge, inviting her to match his audacity with her own brand of brilliance.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Carlac
OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
Interacting with Shannic Wulf
| Dress x | x | x | x | x | x | X | X |

​

This deal's tighter than a Jawa's grip on scrap metal.

The Imperials were coming in hot, no doubt about it. Danger had expected them to play hard Gravball, but not quite so fast and not quite so bold. Then again, they had every right to set the scene how they liked. Keeping her composure was key -- no matter how pushy Mr. Klint got with his pitch, she made sure to maintain the most gracious of Sabacc faces, her polite smile not budging an inch.

Sure, Arceneau Trade could get some special exemptions from certain Imperial tariffs and inspections -- tempting, yes, but those were peanuts compared to what the Imperials were eyeing. A chunk of her profits from every non-Imperial trade deal, intergalactic wide? That was no small cut. Arceneau Trade wasn't just a shipping company; it was a titan with twelve massive subsidiaries that spanned intergalactic wide -- PharmaTech, MaraTibx Fuels, Southern Systems Business Bazaar, Intergalactic Solutions, Vanir Industries, Browncoat Arms & Industrial, Haven Shipyards, Aurum Sacs Bank, Trader ATC, The Eve Foundation, Yum Bunnies, and Arkun Medical. They were into everything from agriculture and pharmaceuticals to banking, fuels, weapons, entertainment, and even a chain of charming if delightfully tacky, family restaurants. Not to mention, they had stakes in countless other companies, making them a silent or public partner in more trades than most could count.

The logistics within Imperial space? They had that down to a science. Everything above board, every regulation met, every form stamped and signed. But if Mr. Klint was implying she'd need to turn over her logistics data and trade routes outside Imperial space, now that would be a problem -- a big one.

Danger felt a familiar itch -- one that told her she'd rather be lighting up a cigarillo than navigating this diplomatic minefield.

"Some clarification, if you would, Mistah Klint," she said, her voice a sweet drawl, even as her eyes narrowed with sharp intent. She gave a slight nod, like she was mulling it all over, but she already knew exactly where this was going. "Is your request for access to logistical data and trade routes only for vessels going into Imperial space?"

She wasn't stopping there; she needed the full picture if she was going to play this game right. "And what percentage of additional tax are we talkin' about for Non-Imperial avenues of trade? And when you say 'avenues of trade,' what exactly are we referrin' about here?" Danger's smile widened just a touch, her charm on full display. "I'm a girl who likes things clear-cut and transparent, just so I know what I'm dealin' with."

She knew Mr. Klint had to have something prepared -- a document, a datapad, something that spelled it all out. The Imperials never missed a detail; they loved their lists and charts, everything neat and tidy for the sake of accuracy and analytics. And she'd need every line of it to see exactly what kind of web they were trying to spin around her business.

 

[Shannic Wulf]

Klint's thin lips curled into a knowing smile as Danger finished her questions. He had anticipated her resistance—Arceneau Trade's reach was legendary, and no one would give up their trade secrets without a fight. But Klint had more cards to play, and he was more than ready to lay them out.

"Ms. Arceneau," Klint began, his voice as smooth as polished durasteel, "I appreciate your candor, truly I do. It's refreshing in a galaxy where so many try to skirt around the heart of the matter." He paused, letting his words settle like the first frost of Hoth. "Now, to be clear, the Grand Vizier and the Empire at large have little interest in what occurs beyond our borders. The galaxy is vast, and we have our hands full as it is. No, our concerns are strictly about what crosses into and out of Imperial space."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto hers, calculating. "You see, the edict isn't about punishing trade—far from it. The Empire thrives on commerce; it's the lifeblood of order and civilization. But the problem, Ms. Arceneau, lies with those corporations who believe they can play both sides. Who think they can grow fat on the profits of a free market while the Empire foots the bill for their security, stability, and infrastructure."

Klint allowed a moment for that to sink in before continuing, his tone becoming more clipped, a hint of steel beneath the velvet. "The Grand Vizier simply wishes to ensure that those who benefit from Imperial protection contribute their fair share to it. Our request for logistical data and trade routes? It's not to pry into your affairs—no, that's simply to ensure that what comes in and goes out is above board. A matter of security, you understand."

He picked up a datapad from the table and tapped a few buttons, the screen lighting up with complex figures and charts. "As for the additional tax, we're looking at a modest percentage—merely five percent on all trade flowing in and out of Imperial space. Think of it as a contribution to maintaining the very trade routes that keep your business thriving. After all, Ms. Arceneau, without the Empire's influence, the galaxy would be a far less hospitable place for your shipments."

Klint's smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "In exchange, the Empire would be willing to grant Arceneau Trade certain privileges—preferential treatment at our customs checkpoints, expedited inspections, perhaps even exclusive rights to certain routes that are currently restricted. We could make this a very profitable arrangement for you, Ms. Arceneau. After all, the Empire rewards those who cooperate."

He leaned back, watching her with a predatory gaze. "Of course, should you decide that these terms are...unpalatable, the Empire would have to reconsider the favorable status Arceneau Trade currently enjoys. That, I believe, would be quite unfortunate—for both of us."

The implication hung in the air, as cold and deliberate as a laser blast. Klint was offering her a golden opportunity, but the barbs in the offer were unmistakable. The choice was hers, but the consequences of refusal were clear.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Carlac
OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
Interacting with Shannic Wulf
| Dress x | x | x | x | x | x | X | X

Danger Arceneau sat with a calm demeanor, though beneath her cordial smile, her mind raced. The offer from Mistah Klint, representative of the Dark Empire, lay before her on a datapad, and it left her with precious little room to maneuver. The terms were clear—Imperial oversight on all trade routes within their territory, a five percent tax on goods moving in and out, and stringent inspections at each checkpoint. For Arceneau Trade, this would heavily impact operations in the Deep Core Worlds now controlled by the Empire -- Empress Teta, Tython, Prakith, and more. The ripple effect stretched even further, touching neutral worlds and her critical outposts like the Stygium mines on Aeten II and the agricultural biomes on Vinsoth.

This was no small matter. If she declined the offer, it wasn't just her business at stake, but the livelihood of countless Imperial citizens working in her facilities -- people who had no part in the political chess game unfolding around them. Her responsibility to her staff weighed heavily on her shoulders. Every move she made could tip the balance, and with the Empire's aggressive stance, declining might leave her people vulnerable.

Danger took a slow, measured breath before addressing Klint, her southern drawl laced with polite professionalism. "If you would humor a few questions, Mistah Klint," she began, her tone warm, but cautious. "I do appreciate the generous offer from the Grand Vizier, but should I decline, may I ask if there's room to negotiate the safety of the Imperial citizens who work at my facilities? Or, if more favorable, I would be more than willin' to hand oversight and ownership of those locations along with the resources to guide them to be state-owned facilities that would be useful for the advancement of the Empire."

In essence, she was willing to hand off those assets and locations and provide the training for the Imperials to take full ownership and production of them without Arceneau being aligned to them. While they could merely take control of the facilities with force, Danger was offering to bow her head at their rule and provide the training and transitory period that would allow the transfer of ownership without any bloodshed or issue.

Her smile softened as she pressed forward, carefully choosing her words. "More than ninety percent of my staff within Imperial space are locals, hard-working folk just doin' their best to make an honest livin'. I would hate for them to be held accountable simply for bein' in the wrong place at the wrong time. With a transitionary period provided,the Empire's goals for security and stability would continue with complete Imperial oversight."

Her words hung in the air, a careful blend of concern and business acumen. Danger was fully aware of the risks -- if the Empire extended its reach into Alliance or Mandalorian territory, the tightrope she was walking could snap at any moment for those employees and locations. But for now, all she could do was tread carefully, protect her people, and hope that Klint would be open to showing some leniency.

Her gaze remained steady on him, waiting for a response, though her mind was already racing through the endless possibilities that could unfold.