All Business and No Play

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Hunter's Quarry ; 19:15 Local Standard Time
Mood Music

Deep in the void known as Hutt Space floated an asteroid belt. The nearest system was the infamous Nal Hutta, and it's Moon, Nar Shaddaa. It was not a kind area of the galaxy by any measure, and not one you would want to get caught unprepared in. Slavers, Smugglers, and vicious Criminals of every description roamed this forsaken stretch of the Galaxy, preying on those weaker than themselves. And some, like the Blood Matron, had carved a home for themselves out of this largely lawless region of space.

Hunter's Quarry was that home for the Crimson Lady and her kinsmen, and they guarded it jealously. From light reconnaissance craft, to truly dangerous Warships hundred of kilometres in size, the asteroid belt around Zenva home was patrolled heavily. Deep in the cold heart of her Shipyard turned home Zenva sat alone at a long, dark wooden table in her private quarters. Her personal suite of rooms included everything the Lady might ever desire. Multiple extravagant sleeping quarters, lavish bathing chambers, and an exquisitely furnished dining hall. In was in this dining hall the crimson skinned Zabrak awaited her long anticipated guest.

The Matron surged up from her seat, her favorite gown whipping around her toned legs as she paced the room. The click of her stiletto heels on the room's black marble floors echoed faintly as she moved. She paused at a small wet bar along one side of the chamber, checking that glasses, ice, and her finest liquor selection was at the ready for probably the tenth time in as many minutes. A faint growl boiled from the Matron as she continued her frustrated pacing. "F-Three, you useless bucket of bolts, are you certain Miss T'shkali is coming?"

The Matron's personal Butler Droid stepped forward from the far corner, bowing slightly to the impatient Zabrak. "Yes, Matron. She has already docked, and is currently in route under escort of your Ladyship's I.G. Series Droids. She should arrive momentarily, Matron. Do be patient."

[member="Visanj T'shkali"]

 

[Visanj T'shkali]

As she walked the halls, IG droids flanking her, Visanj smiled at the formality of protocol and the impressions of power.

"Nice touch," she thought to herself, taking in the landscape. Dressed in green velvet number, with the top straps of her harness peeking out, that clung to her slender frame's every curve and bend, dark sheer thigh-high stockings, and heels, she hoped she'd pass muster. This was to be a dinner meeting, and the Zabrak woman had incredible tastes. As they arrived at the door to her private hall, Vi took a deep breath.

[member="Zenva Vrotoa"]

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

The Zabrak's pacing was finally interrupted by a knocking at the dining hall's double doors. Quickly the Matron moved to stand beside her chair at the head of the long table. She straightened her dress reflexively before nodding to her butler to open the door. Her expression turned stoic, utterly devoid of even a micro expression. She watched in silence as her guest entered, bizarre yellow-red eyes sweeping over every inch of the young woman joining her. One hairless brow rose faintly as the Zabrak took in the details of her guest's outfit.

"Welcome, Miss T'shkali." Zenva's voice was low, quiet. It drifted through the chamber with a cool, musical quality that very much complimented her natural grace. "Please, come in. Sit." She gestured to the chair at the opposite end of the table. "Would you care for something to drink?"

[member="Visanj T'shkali"]

 

[Visanj T'shkali]

Seeing her there, black lace creeping around her statuesque figure, posed and straight, Visanj's eyes widened a moment. She paused to drink in the vision before her. The dim lights, the long black table, and the woman at the other end. This wasn't going to be your normal dinner meeting. Visanj straightened and went inside.

"Good evening, Matron. Thank you for this meeting." Visanj made a gentle nod and moved to the chair the woman has gestured to, taking her seat, all the while her eyes never leaving the gaze of her host. "Yes, please. Scotch, neat, two fingers."

[member="Zenva Vrotoa"]

 

[Visanj T'shkali]

Visanj tried to keep cool and maintain her composure, but this wasn't going to be easy. The Zabrak was beautiful, and that gown only enhanced the enthralling spectacle. Not to mention, going in alone to someone else's lair, that had all the possibility for things to turn south quick. But the offer to meet with the crime lord and hear her proposal directly was just too much to pass up. Visanj knew that to have a business partnership with her, and the resources she enjoyed, would be an advantage not easily found. Coming here, to this place, her stronghold, was a gesture of good faith and trust - a gesture Vi hoped wouldn't be a mistake.

Looking up, the grandeur of the Matron's great hall was impressive, as was the amount of security she had waiting just footsteps away. It wasn't everyday that someone called you to dinner in their private fortress, especially when that person ensured you'd be met on arrival with a small army of IG droids and a private armada circling overhead. This was taking home-court advantage to an entirely new level. Visanj carefully crossed her legs, the sheer stockings and sexy pointed heels stretching out in front of her. Well, she thought, Mom was right: It is important to look good, no matter what one is doing.

[member="Zenva Vrotoa"]

 

[Visanj T'shkali]

"An F-III? How lovely, and how rare? I have one myself, he's been with the family for generations. How was it you came to find this one? They don't make them like this anymore you know, not for centuries." Visanj asked, trying to deescalate the mounting tension in the room. "Mine is...temperamental....but loyal and diligent. He's seen his share of upgrades too."

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Zenva returned her guest's nod of greeting with one of her own; her horned, hairless head turning slightly to one side as she did. A hand came up fleetingly as she dismissed the Assassins from the room. "F-Three, Scotch, neat, two fingers. For each of us, I should think." She said in passing as she took her seat, folding one long leg atop the other at the knee.

Everything about the Blood Matron, from the way she spoke, to the way she held herself in and out of motion, practically oozed predatory grace. Her intense yellow-red gaze never left her guest, a trait shared by many carnivorous aliens throughout the Galaxy. There was no hiding, at least not from one as learned as the Epicanthrix Baroness across from her, that Zenva had long trained herself to move as she did. Such pose was not something a common Mercenary turned Crime Lord was born with.

Her porcelain expression cracked finally. Her plump, coal painted lips curled in a wicked grin, serrated shark like teeth gleaming in the dim light. "Ah! Rare to find someone that knows what that fossil is. My F-Three is almost completely rebuilt. He was a broken down rust pile when I claimed him as payment for something. Honestly, I'm not sure he has much left beyond his head casing that's original."

[member="Visanj T'shkali"]

 

[Visanj T'shkali]

"Yes, mine is being upgraded also. He truly has needed it for awhile." said Vi, taking the drink and savoring the peaty, full-bodied aroma of the liquor before briefly stirring it with her fingertip. Looking at her hostess, she smiled, then took a sip. The warm liquid, hints of smoke and malt, coating her throat. Vi examined the Zabrak carefully. She carried herself with a much-honed disposition, and the tenor of her voice suggested she'd practiced her diction and deportment to achieve such crispness and aura. This was a woman who had ambition and vision. She had plans. Vi liked her, almost immediately.

"I have studied the terms of your proposed contract, and providing the lads in legal find it all to their satisfaction, I believe we can make such an arrangement, Matron. Dagata is eager to expand and your offer is precisely what we had hope for it to be. How much production level does this shipyard of yours accomplish?"

Vi took a slow breath and a second sip, leaning back in her chair as she grinned wryly and wiped a drop from the corner of her mouth with her small finger then licking it off the tip.

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Zenva's found herself smiling in return the moment her guest's lips curled. She sipped her own drink before setting it aside. The Baroness turned the discussion back to the matter at hand, and the Matron's demeanor shifted once more. Her heel came to rest on the marble floor with a sharp click as she straightened slightly in her chair. Her elbows were propped on the arms of her chair, her powerful fingers steepling in front of her sharp face.

The Zabrak's gaze went distant as if she were reading off a Datapad only she could see. "Well, Miss T'shkali, this shipyard is not technically designed to outfit a proper naval presence. I'm capable of assembling Capital Ships up to two and a half thousand meters in drydock. From planning to assembly, and delivery I could build you a formidable navy, yes, but this facility is better suited to mass producing smaller vessels. Frigates, Corvettes, whole fleets worth of star fighter. A veritable Armada of fast, and dangerous attack ships is more of the philosophy here."

She paused, turning to speak a few words to her Droid in her harsh native tongue. "Of course, that's not to say I cannot provide you with anything you might need, Miss T'shkali. I have long been seeking the idle locations to build new, larger Shipyards. I've just not found the proper locations, and agreeable partners for such endeavors." Once more she paused to pluck a cigarette, and lighter from the tray her F-Three was holding. She light it, setting the lighter back beside it's matched cigarette case, and took one of the small crystalline ashtrays for herself. Promptly the Droid turned, crossing to the Matron's guest, and held out it's tray. She smiled sweetly, gray smoke idling from her parted lips.

[member="Visanj T'shkali"]

 

[Visanj T'shkali]

Vi considered the Matron's proposals carefully. Getting into bed with her cartel promised considerable resources, not only for her private interests, but also in speeding along the very much-need improvement of Dagata's military wherewithal. However, to face facts, the woman sitting across from her, deliciously blowing smoke rings into the air, was the leader of a formidable criminal empire, with all that brings with it. Dagatans have never shied away from playing fast and loose with legality, but their aspirations towards a greater role in the galaxy might be questioned by this arrangement.

"Conditions then, Matron. I have your assurance that this contract is between you and I alone, and its terms and details, as well as those which follow after for any and all future workings will remain a close and jealously-guarded feature?"

Vi figured she would simply contract with Jenn Fay and the Dagatan leadership. To whom she sub-contracted certain efforts would then be her business, not theirs, removing any liability from them. She looked the Matron straight into her gold eyes and continued,

"Point two. Any special works you perform for me are proprietary, not to be shared or sold with any other government, faction, corporation, or persons, not without my prior consent. Of course, this doesn't apply to any of your stock items which I may purchase that otherwise open for sale to your other customers already."

Vi studied the woman's face, though her gaze sometimes slipped...south....before returning to meet her eyes once more. This woman was not one known for giving centimeters, much less more, not without expectations of her own.

"Point three. I may, from time to time, require from you certain other services which I am told you can provide. Those shall be a separate matter, entirely apart from this present contract."

"Finally, point four. I will deliver payment in aurodium, as agreed upon, in full when delivery of all services and products requested is complete to my specifications and liking. Take, for example, my need for some of your clone forces. Are they able for customizations?"

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

A smile, slow and dangerous, like the look of a well feed Nexu eyeing infant prey animals, crossed the Matron's sharp features as she listened to her guest speak. She was no one's fool this Baroness. The Epicanthix woman was far more dangerous than she appeared in her elegant emerald attire. Perhaps one of the most dangerous, and clever minds the Crimson Lady had encountered in far too long. Sometimes she missed working around the Hutts. If nothing else, they kept you sharp.

"Regardless of our contract, Miss T'shkali, I never discuss the aspects of any of my clientele. No one out side this office need know a single detail of any of our business arrangements. You will never learn of my other clients who desire privacy, and they shall never learn of you. And yes, the Droids will be wiped." She tapped a speck of ash from her cigarette, setting the crystal container on the table.

"Point two, I contest. We are to be equal partners, Miss T'shkali. Anything I create should always be available to me. If my time, and efforts are to be used in the creation of particularly interesting, and advanced technology, I may be inclined to use it myself. You do not desire enemies using your toys against you, I understand entirely. However if you want such lovely toys, I may be inclined to ask that something be made available to me, and me alone. Agreeable?" She paused to sip her drink once more.

The Matron took another long pull from her cigarette, exhaling a cloud of gray as she continued. "Point three, I accept. My offices are always open to you, Miss T'shkali. Day or night. I'm willing to discuss any transactions you might require. If you desire to pay in Aurodium, that's perfectly acceptable. If that becomes inconvenient, I'm sure other methods of payment can be arranged. I'm very agreeable." She smiled coyly around her cigarette as she took another slow pull from it.

A sharp, hunger grin split the Matron's face. "My cloning services are still new, Miss T'shkali. Currently my first batch of one hundred and sixty one cadets are currently six years old. Their aging is, let's say, advanced. They are nearing puberty, and will be ready for the field rather soon. Depending on the customization, it may be too late for some things. If you desire something more unique than my initial creations, that can be arranged. I have additional batches already, but they are all still in their training phases."

[member="Visanj T'shkali"]

 

[Visanj T'shkali]

"My custom work will be mine, and mine alone. Be that any work to my ship, my gear, my droids, et cetera. Now, what you make for the market, that's yours for the market. What you make for me, you will be paid for, handsomely, but that is mine." The smooth, whisky-like flavor of her words held a subtle but ever-present bite as she leaned forward, took one of the Matron's cigarettes and drawing the silver and black lighter from her purse, took a long slow pull until the orange glow of the cherry-blossom burned bright. Opening her mouth to speak again, the smoke escaped and effortlessly curled up into the air. "Nice case. Now, I am prepared to offer you a contract, one which allow you use of my shocksteel, and limited use of my PGA coating. The stuff isn't easily made, and you're not the only one with a coating contract, but as of this moment, you're the second one to get such an offer. Other materials will come soon, my research and development laboratory mice are hard at work, earning their cheese. I can soften the blow of not having cornered the PGA by giving you rights to shocksteel without limitation and ensuring you have first bid on say, the next two products from Segroth?"

"But I reiterate, my custom work, such as the droid rebuilds we've discussed. That remains proprietary."

"As for your clones...I don't wish to make much in the way of alterations to their physiology or anatomy, however their cybernetics suite and training may need some...additional modifications. What do you plan for their weapons and armor?"

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Zenva's smile soured slightly as her counter point was shot down quickly by her Epicanthix guest. "Very well. I yield. Privileged, custom jobs are yours, and yours alone." She nodded briefly acknowledging the compliment the woman offered. "But you'll forgive me if I decide to create similar products for myself in the future."

The Matron paused to sip her Scotch once more. "My Damascus, for your ShockSteel, and limited use of this PGA Coating is very acceptable. First bid on the following two products is a very generous consolation prize, Miss T'shkali. Of course I would like to be notified of all future products, as I'm sure I'll be inclined to bid on many of them."

The Zabrak woman slowly went completely still as her guest brought the conversion back to the topic of her Clones. The Matron's expression turned dark as her pride flared up. "You have yet to see my Clones in action, Miss T'shkali. Specialized training may be required to fulfill very specific customer desires, but I assure you, their standard training does not require much modification." She took a long pull from her cigarette to calm herself. Surely the woman offered no disrespect. "They are genetically perfect. Superior in every way to the soldiers you'll find in the galaxy at large. At present they have very little cybernetic modifications. This is largely due to the plans I have for their Armor systems. Is there something specific you desire from a batch of my Clones, Miss T'shkali?"

[member="Visanj T'shkali"]

 

[Visanj T'shkali]

"I am very interested in a small unit, likely no more than twelve strong with some notable cybernetics, specially attuned to search and rescue (Pararescue) and ISTAR missions. These troops must be highly disciplined, with a skillset enabling them to infiltrate occupied territory, retrieve or reinforce assets there, render rescue or medical aid as needed, and exfiltrate once more as their primary mission set. Secondary mission set is to conduct clandestine intelligence, long-range surveillance, target acquisition, and special reconnaissance-type missions. These will not be front-line troopers, but rather an elite group of behind-the-lines experts....highly self-motivated, exceptionally discreet, and more than capable. That is the idea anyway, for the first 12 (and their replacements / reinforcements to follow). So, basically scouts, elite special operations forces for search and rescue and pathfinder-type missions."