F O R T R E S S A
[X]
Allies: CIS
Enemy: Maw
Enemy Engagement Status: [ OPEN ]
Nearby Ally Tag:
Darth Empyrean
/
Taiia Mataan
Location & Intent: Departing
the Docking Bay in
Jackal Pods (Intent on disabling the Space Elevator from the Port)
_________________________________________________________
If the Exarch noticed how her fellow Confederates peered at the Sith Lord at her side none would ever know. The burnished golden orbs that signaled to the educated what he was, beyond all else, were the very same shade that she adopted when the Force swept through her ice-ridden veins like wildfire. She listened to the command staff, the droids, but paid it little mind unless it had something to do with a situational report. Little else mattered, save, for the match point that lay within the
Perann Nebula.
She reached up with her free hand and pushed a shock of silken platinum hair back and over her shoulders. Silvery eyes were steady, unwavering, and if she blinked at all one had the sense that she might have found some sort of meditative repose. It left her with an imperious sense of being there and gone while at the same time managing to control the atmosphere of the bridge with a single sweep of pitiless, glacier orbs. Most people could not maintain her gaze.
The way they surreptitiously evaluated Maliphant?
It was a combination of the current political climate and the very blunt nature of his intended goals. His affiliation to the Sith Eternal was confusing, and for some, too close to the Sith Empire. The Knights Obsidian had not forgiven the acts of a certain Sith Lord during a battle on Taanab. Many could not forget the sight of one of their own, broken, beaten, and tortured on this very ship.
Burned alive.
No. They would never forget.
“I am aware. Yet, I would be remiss not to make it clear.”
They both had their reasons for taking a stance against the Brotherhood of the Maw. Srina had spent much of her formative years with Thyrsian fingers pointing at her—At all Echani—With the claim that they were oppressing their sable-skinned cousins. Her people had been besmirched so much so in the past that when she’d arrived to the Confederacy it had been expected, by some, that she was a slaveholder. An “
owner” of “
sentient” property.
Nothing could be further from the truth. But, it rarely mattered this far from Eshan.
The fact that slavery was permitted to exist in an enlightened galaxy infuriated her.
The first time, the very first time, she had ever spoken to
Darth Empyrean
he had introduced himself as “The Slave” in a business meeting. Though he walked, freely, the damage had been done. Enough so that one of the few promises she’d required of the Banking mogul revolved around his word that he would never let another abuse him in that way again. Never again, would he be a slave.
Never again.
The Exarch remained silent while the equally pale man at her side mused about the state of the Alliance and their Jedi Order. She had heard the rumblings, but it was another thing to hear him confirm it aloud. The galaxy, truly, seemed to be in peril. Shaken, unstable. There was no order among the chaos. No lines—Which could not be crossed for the benefit of wealth, power, and influence.
Not anymore.
Srina breathed in sharply when the voice
Taiia Mataan
stole her existential thoughts away like a leaf on the wind. If the dropships were ready and the Fortressa had reached the proper distance—It was time.
“Four minutes, Lord Mataan. Ensure that at least some of our droid complement includes Magnaguard.”
Intelligence claimed that there were veritable barbarian cannibals patrolling the Port.
They would see.
The Echani could feel the sudden well of darkness swirl into existence. Deadly silent orbs flickered to the staff that Maliphant held, curious, that the conflicting sensations that echoed through the Force. She did not fear what power poured from him. She was smart enough to respect it. But fear it? No.
“And here I thought you’d left it at home…”, dulcet tones murmured, lightly, in such a way that it was very possible she might have been teasing him. That gentleness evaporated as she stepped by him with cool confidence and began to head toward the exit.
“Exarch departing—”, one of the officers announced, straightening up, while the eyes of the Fortressa seemed to snap to attention. They weren’t fool enough to stop working, but it was jarring to see their leaders, one after the other, descend into the Madness of Rhand. The Pit was hungry. For the sake of ending the slave trade, for the intent of crippling the Maw, they were feeding their people, their friends, their family—
Right to it.
“Be smart, be safe, and listen to the Vicelord in my absence. Keep comms online and encrypted.”
Srina spoke calmly before gesturing for the assembled officers and droids to be at ease. Her external tranquility might not have matched what she truly, however, the serenity she displayed seemed to roll over the room in a cooling wave. If she held no fear? Why should they.
“It will be over soon enough.”
One way or the other.
If they were looking for some grandiose speech? That wasn’t her.
Not today. There would be no victory in this battle no matter how hard they fought because at the end of the engagement there would always be collateral damage. Supposed “
acceptable” losses. It left her conflicted. Torn. As slaves, these people lived. Albeit, to be sentient, while at the same time being nothing at all. A father without authority. A mother without the ability to protect. Slaves own nothing, claim nothing, not even themselves. The hell, the torture they endured, was enough to break anyone thrice over.
It was abominable existence, but for now, they lived.
How long would it be before the Maw began to use their “property” as a shield?
A way to hide behind an innate sense of mercy that the Confederacy was guilty of expressing?
Conflicted.
Srina led Maliphant through the ship that she knew like the back of her hand. Four minutes, as promised. They already had their gear. Silver eyes burned into that of the Obsidian Lord and her jaw set tight. The feeling of encroaching death grew stronger with every moment. She knew not of the ritual (
Dakrul
) that claimed the lives of so many but it was almost as if the Force was beginning to shriek in the back of her mind. Wail, like a banshee. She could
almost understand why.
Almost.
But it was just outside her reach.
“Let’s go.”
Ruus Kote
,
Gerwald Lechner
