O P E R A T I O N
A S S I M I L A T E
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Location: Ankhela Executive Space Port [Meeting Room] |
Objectives: Negotiate with the Iktotch Representatives |
Companion: Luscia |
Wearing: Black
Tags: [member="Helly Reyne"] | [member="Efried Halbrecht"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] {Feel free to Join in!}
Alessandra pouted from the comfort of still-warm sheets when Adron refused to indulge the wifery tales of women that had spent too much time star-gazing. Still, the topic changed to business, and the astute creature reorganized her thoughts as if they were little more than a reference index.
“War and defense is costly. Paying troops, servicing ships, providing quarters and sustenance takes credits. Most nations always have to budget that.”
“We don’t. We have droids. They don’t eat, they don’t sleep, and they’ve already been paid for.”
In that respect, the Minister of Commerce couldn’t see why they couldn’t afford one of their newest member worlds a little peace of mind. The Confederacy produced far more than it actually consumed.
Not long later found her showering, getting ready, and finally poking her head out of the refresher. Alessandra snuck out to get her pumps from the closet, but, just as she slid them on Adron returned with the snack she had requested. Chocolate eyes rose to his and crimson lips curved. He’d actually done it himself? Truthfully, she thought he’d just summon a servant droid to handle it. But…Seeing that he had taken the time to prepare it? She enjoyed it that much more.
Alessandra noticed a message from [member="Mishel Noren"] sitting on her holo-comm and she scrolled through it while daintily swallowing a piece of cracker. So, the little urchin had arrived? A little smile played across crimson lips.
<You can pick up any access cards from the front desk at the Spaceport. We have a meeting first, then, Adron and I will meet you.>
By the time they left their quarters, arm in arm, she felt better. The pangs of hunger in her stomach had been satiated, for the moment, but it wouldn’t last.
“Your child is trying to make me fat.”, she murmured to Adron surreptitiously, her voice all velvet, but entirely serious. The dark-haired woman couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted to eat so many storm fruit candies in one sitting.
Her expression schooled itself into one of polite indifference when the Prime Minister of Iktotch approached them. From the state of their accommodations, she wouldn’t have expected anything less. Simple living, for simple, backwater people. Nevertheless, Alessandra saw the man for what he was. A gateway. A path to this world.
Alessandra recognized the woman headed toward the meeting room, [member="Helly Reyne"], but only barely. Every newly appointed Viceroy was added to her ledger. Especially, when a substantial amount of funds passed through their given world. Tatooine was a dry, desolate, and complicated sponge. It sucked the life from anything that came near it, sparing nothing, not even credits. Only the good Lady Danger seemed capable of turning a profit from such a dust bowl. Adron handled the greeting, regardless, and the Minister followed the Exarch as if nothing was amiss.
It wasn’t.
Not really.
‘The newly appointed Viceroy of Tatooine, my love.’, she mentally responded, hoping, to end the Exarch’s inquiry. Truth be told, there were so many members of the Viceroyalty, that it was impossible to keep them all straight through day to day routines. Alessandra simply had a mind for names and a mind for numbers. Creeds, never forget.
‘I hear she is…Enjoyably eccentric.’
Ale claimed the empty seat to the right of Adron whilst [member="Efried Halbrecht"] took the seat on the other side. The onyx haired woman nodded her head at the representative from the Eternal Empire. They had been informed, prior, that the soldier would be joining for some of the more delicate ventures. Meaning, diplomacy. The Minister didn’t know if it was because Mr. Halbrecht wanted to become better-rounded or if [member="Darth Tacitus"] had demanded it. Either way, seeing that he prepared to take notes, the young woman was satisfied.
The first sign of someone with a hint of wisdom was their capacity to listen.
Ms. Reyne took the space beside her and the Minister offered her a brief smile. It was neither too kind, nor too passive, but perfectly welcoming—as it should be. Her state of dress inflamed every sense of thread count abuse that the tanned female had, however, they were on a planet full of people that seemed to like wearing sacks made of itchy brown hemp. A little plaid? In retrospect? Not so bad.
At least there was a splash of color.
“I hope your travels were comfortable, Ms, Reyne.”
Gentle conversation whilst they awaited the Prime Minister. When the man finally stepped forward, taking his place at the head of the long table, her eyes were drawn back toward his form. It seemed that he finally had something to say.
