Private Chasing Shadows

[Dak]

[ THIS IS A REBOOT OF THIS THREAD ]

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C O R U S C A N T
Tepasi City, Tagge District

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The Core Worlds

Despite everything that had changed over the centuries, they always managed to rebuild and persevere. The cradle of humanity; it's worlds praised for their historic significance and romanticized as ideological bastions for righteousness and virtue, or power and order depending on the crowd. They were timeless monuments of a past less clouded by darkness and uncertainty, and less stricken by instability. But the truth was, the Core had become a constant flux.

Coruscant in particular had changed hands dozens of times in the last 900 years. Seized by those who’d hoped to revitalize the Galaxy’s historic seat of power, or build their own legacy on the corpses of the great Empires and Republics that came before them. The ecumenopolis had seen devastation and renewed prosperity more times than modern history could count, and while such resilience was a testament to the Coruscanti people, it was not without consequence. The wounds no longer healed as cleanly as they had before, and the scars were starting to show.

Multiple generations of being used as a political or symbolic pawn had turned the people jaded. Their homeworld was still facing recession, having never fully recovered from it's many calamities; be it the Vong invasion or Clockwork Rebellion, or the devastation of the Gulag Plague. For many, it no longer mattered what flag flew from the Palace or who called themselves the Emperor, Chancellor or King. The never-ending game of thrones held little significance to the common folk, if they were lucky that is. What mattered was survival.

Dak was one of the few entities left who could remember the planet for what it had been. Like the stories still told in remote regions of the Outer Rim. Coruscant had stood for something once, and the droid held hope that it could once more.

The transition of authority between the remnant Imperials and the Grayson Imperium had been one of the smoother ones in recent past, but it was still not without issues. Despite the majority of the Imperial government conceding to their subjugation and even transferring to positions within the new regime, there were those who strongly and even violently opposed. Notably, the darkside adept ex-Imperial Inquisitors had promptly chose to retreat into exile in order to escape the punishment of the Ashla-aligned Essonian Knights.

Despite the Imperium’s best efforts, many continued to evade capture by hiding away in the labyrinthine under-cities if the planet. That is, until Dak had accidentally located one of their sanctuaries while seeking the aid of the Ministry of Intelligence to track down a rare TD-54 training droid. Such a foe far outmatched the combat droid, but the acquisition of such an asset and the training protocols it had to offer had become a growing desire. With a mutual interest in eliminating the Bogan threat and recovering the droid for Dak, the Lord-Imperator tasked Jedi Padawan Loske Treicolt to aid the unit in his mission.

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Padawan Loske. Dak had certainly become familiar with the name over the last few months since he rejoined Cedric's side. She had been there on the expedition to Tython in the Imperium's earliest days. They had also fought alongside eachother after being shot down over Empress Teta with P Placeholder 0128 , though with little time for idle chatter. His most significant impression, however, had come from Cedric's confiding; a rare display of emotion amid the despair that seemed to follow him.

The Padawan was a familiar name and face - one Dak respected - but not one he knew very well personally.

Dak stands at the railing of an elevated walkway, looking out at the congested, tiered airways over an orange hued skyline. It was getting late. The Sun would be setting soon, but the city would hardly even notice. Coruscant had long abandoned the routines of natural order; this was a place that never slept. One of many in such a busy Galaxy. Regardless, he was waiting for the Padawan, and where they were going the light of the stars never reached.

Deep within the Tagge District's undercity, vermin of the Dark Side cowered from the Imperium's justice. Agents of the Bogan; war criminals of the CIC. These exiled inquisitors hid, waiting for the chance to lash out once more against the Jedi who had taken their power from them. Luck had lead to their discovery, or "the will of the Force" Dak imagined Cedric would call it. It didn't matter much to him.

Dak adjusts the strap of his BR-212, tightening it to better conceal the weapon against his back and under a simple, medium-length brown mantle. He had the clearance for such a weapon, of course, but the less attention being drawn to him the better.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"No ghouls or gunships this time, hm?"

Dak's efforts to conceal his armaments would be interrupted by way of the audible introduction that approached from behind. It was easy to identify who she was supposed to be regrouping with. For one - the coordinates made it obvious, but for two - Dak's silhouette against the tangerine skies was unmistakably droid-like.

The relative silence (Coruscant was never truly serene) shouldn't have been a surprise. In addition to the improvised salutations, her steps would have echoed to announce her arrival; a joviality to their pace. Alongside the walk was the sound of a rolling astromech droid.

Loske was feeling more and more in the zone these days. Being deployed to assist Dak felt as close to a mission debriefing as she'd received in this new Force-filled life of hers. While it had some glaring differences yet from the Rogue days with The Alliance, the chasms were closing.

She stopped adjacent to the robotic fellow near the railing, and for curiosity's sake, glanced over -- in case he'd seen anything interesting. There wasn't anything particularly out of the ordinary about the view. Tepasi City was just another insular world on Coruscant, where the people had migrated and attempted to replicate the traditions and architecture of their home world.

Hello again, Dak. Frank would greet. His stocky build didn't allow him to careen over the railing to the world below.

 

[Dak]

Loske Treicolt ​

Unsurprisingly, Dak offers little in the way of a notable reaction to the sudden quip. As Loske approaches he simply turns his head to greet her, and glances once between her and the familiar astromech. "I think it may be in our best interest to not rule out anything at this point," he jokes, though his voice carries the same synthesized tone it usually does.

He looks back out ahead of them once Loske steps up beside him, watching curiously as she peers over the railing. Frank steals his attention before he can make a comment, rolling up beside him. "Oh. Hello again," his receptors linger on the stumpy droid "I don't think I thanked you properly for your assistance on Vulpter." He felt silly talking to the astromech, knowing full well that such droids were not properly sentient.

But then again, he'd never been able to confirm for himself whether he was either.

"Yes, well. Thank you, Frank." He felt even more strange calling it such a name.

"Have you been to Tepasi City before, Madame Loske?" he asks, turning his attention back to the Padawan. He didn't expect the ex-pilot to have explored the auxiliary government city. While there were plenty of gems that Coruscant had to offer outside of Galactic City, Tepasi wasn't one of them.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Fair." She agreed. It'd be unwise not to expect the unexpected, given their affinity for dramatic occurrences.

Of course. You did a good job apprehending those fellows. Frank complimented in return to the appreciation. It felt weird doing so, even for him. For Loske, it felt weird hearing him say anything so pleasant. He was usually so....frank. If anyone thought she was blunt, they'd not had any sort of dialogue with the Talith-special astromech. It would be safe to surmise it was because he was interfacing with another machine born, and marvelled Dak 's advanced AI.

Oh, hearing Madame Loske was strange. Far too formal. She sounded like a house mother or something.

"I haven't." Loske admitted, and leaned her back against the railing - though it aligned mostly with her hips. If someone came along and gave her shoulders a shrug, the lean would be a stupid move. She didn't know anything about Tepasi - Frank had wanted to tell her, but she'd opted to ask Dak instead once they'd hit the rendezvous point. Seemed that was a natural cue for dialogue. "I don't know anything about it. Any tourist spots you'd like to see when this is all done?"

 

[Dak]

Loske Treicolt ​

If only he were able to laugh, her question checked all the boxes of a joke.

"Quite the opposite, I'm afraid," Dak replies, shaking his head "this city's primary function is to supplement the core branches of the government. Auxiliary departments, non-essential services, et cetera."

He turns around at that, looking behind them to the hurried crowds of people moving along the platform. Their group was just barely avoiding getting pulled into the mob. "I think I've seen enough of Coruscant in my lifetimes. Though, it seems it still has more to offer me afterall."

Dak was aware that the opportunity to pursue the combat routines of a Jedi training droid had always been available to him. The idea had simply never come to him before. Or, rather, he was incapable of it in the past. It was an odd thing to know your thoughts had limitations. Time had broadened his perspective; loosened his chains, so to speak. It was as if he'd been shown colours he'd never seen before.

Things had only continued to change since he was re-discovered. These last few months had been filled with contemplation beyond his ability to calculate or rationalize. Sometimes, for reasons inexplicable, it felt as if his thoughts were not his own.

"I won't be surprised if you've had your fill of this city by the time we're done here," he adds, breaking out of his introspection "but if we survive, I do know some other places on this planet you might enjoy."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Lifetimes? Oh, right. Cedric had mentioned that Dak had been with the Grayson family for centuries. What a strange juxtaposition - someone who was hundreds of years old, and someone who was like, five years old. And they both looked great! Essential oils (of differing varieties) for the win. If Dak went silent for a moment to trace his own thoughts, Loske didn't notice. She was busy keeping an eye on the thicket of sentients that were going about their commute. Some had their hands in their pockets, others were glued to their datapads, some engaged in conversation. Mostly everyone was not paying immediate attention to everyone and thing around them.

"I admire your optimism." Loske feigned at the offhanded if we survive commentary and made a gesturing sweep of an arm, suggestion for them to get going and be swallowed by the flow of people. She'd fall into step with Dak, but ultimately let him lead the way.

"Coruscant's not my favourite." She admitted, tucking her own hands into the pockets of her jacket. Her impressions may have been coloured by the sombreness of the underworld. "I don't know what it is, it just seems so...tired. I do like all the different pockets of cultures, though. How several different planets have coalesced here and made little camps of memories. That's kind of neat."

 

[Dak]

Loske Treicolt ​

Dak pushes his way into the crowd at Loske's beckon. The sturdy droid is unwavering as a suited Iridonian man bumps into him, lost in his own bubble as he autopilots through his daily routine. Dak barely seems to notice their collision, and quickly finds his way into the flow of the masses alongside the other two.

"If only you could have seen it during the Great Peace," Dak laments - as much as he is able to, that is "the few memories I still have of those days are not of this place, I'm afraid. It may share the name, but they are not the same."

A curiosity struck him him suddenly as he lead them across the walkway "Where is it you're from, Madame Loske? I don't recall Master Cedric ever mentioning."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Are your memories shareable? Visually, I mean - can you project them?" Loske had an affinity for seeing history, with her combination of flow walking and psychometery. "That would help make you a wonderful story teller."

Where was she from. Oof. This could be a very detailed, or a very short response. She side stepped a knee-high woman in a trench coat and took that time to consider her response. It was a strange inference, to hear that maybe there were other things Cedric said by way of introduction to the pair? That was to be assumed, mission dossier and all that, but it still felt weird-slash-nice to know she was being talked about. She felt her cheeks get hot. "He hasn't mentioned Kiffu?" An attempt to play this off cooly would be foiled with her next sheepish sentence. "What has he mentioned? Should we swap the shared anecdotes from our mutual public relations specialist?"

Meanwhile, Frank seemed to be having an uninterrupted time, navigating through the sea of knees and hips. His pace varied from alongside to slightly behind the other two, but never straying too far.

"Also, Madame Loske is quite formal. If you keep calling me that, I'll call you Mister Dak this entire time."

 

[Dak]

Loske Treicolt ​

Shareable memories?

This hadn't been a readily available technology in his earlier years, and he had yet to be made aware of it until now. He considers it for a moment, unsure. "I am not equipped with any sort of holo-projector," he wonders for a moment how dangerous poking around in his already unstable memory banks could be "but I suppose it could be possible to extract some data and try."

Whether or not it would be possible, the thought was a nice one. There are many things the droid would appreciate seeing again. But not only that, there's much he'd wish to show P Placeholder 0128 as well. Fragmented glimpses of his family, House Grayson, before they knew only war.

"I'm afraid not," he answers her question of Kiffu "though I will be fair and say I am not one to ask many questions when it comes to the subject of relations." Dak's sensory information, although partially scrambled by the masses surrounding them, still picks up the faint trace of an increased heart-rate in the woman. The same thing he had noted in the Lord-Imperator when the subject came to surface. He knew what this was likely to mean, of course, but it would never be something he'd truly understand. He decides not to press, knowing he'd hardly make a good psychologist should young Matson seek to confide her feelings in him.

"Respectfully, I should maintain the trust of Master Grayson," he says with some unintentional finality to the words. Dak begins to lead the group toward a series of elevator platforms, preparing to head down to the surface level of the streets. Once he comes to a stop to wait for the lift to begin its descent, he shifts his head to Loske. With a short delay, he adds "but only good things, Madame Loske. Some of the only good things I've heard him say in quite a while."

If he were capable, he'd let out a chuckle. "That appears to be a common opinion lately," he turns his head to her "it does sound silly when you put it that way. Very well, Loske."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

A little jealousy churned in her stomach. Centuries of memories. Loske's started only at five years ago. Anything that pre-dated that diner on Nar Shaddaa was untouchable.

"That could be nice, but memories can be a fickle thing. You've hundreds of years worth..." She wondered if she could reach into the recesses of his mind with a touch. She'd never tried it on a sentient before -- and Dak might be a bit of an overwhelming place to start. With the cogs of her mind turning, she looked ambitiously toward Frank. He didn't notice, but she jotted it down on a mental to-do.

"Hardly a relation, sir. Where were you.." born? Made? Manufactured? Created? Cringey.. "Originally from?" Good save! Droids could be sensitive.

"Oh well, that's no fun Dak. But I'm sure makes you irreplaceable." Loske didn't have any worries about trust, she had a natural inclination to believe that nobody would betray someone else just for the heck of it. Open-book-Matson. "Good priorities." The second sentence he relayed felt a bit like a peace offering, but she hungrily accepted it and her cheeks continued to warm.

"Times are-a-changin'" she offered by way of explanation to the dismissal of his formalities. She cast a wayward glance through the glassy veneer of the lift as it hurtled downward.

"What do you know about where we're going?"

Dak

 

[Dak]

Loske Treicolt

​

"Very few of them remain, I'm afraid. Time affects us all, organic or otherwise," Dak watches the skyscrapers grow to colossal heights as their lift continues downward. Mega-cities always served to remind the droid of just how small they all are in the grand scheme of things. Specks of dust on a grand painting, barely perceptible to viewings of time. The droid was the last material testament of so many he had met in the past, yet most of those years were lost to him.

Ironically, despite the droid's apparent gloom over the fragments of his past, he did have an answer to Loske's question of his origin. Not because of any written memory, however; he was aware that his earliest days of service had been removed in a memory wipe. But his activation logs remained, giving him some insight into how or why he came to be.

"I was created by Czerka Corporation in the year 3665 BBY," the lift reaches the surface level of the District, interrupting him briefly. He steps out to the street and scans the more rundown area, determining quickly that they are still on the right track. "From what I've been able to gather from the limited information available of this time, the Galaxy was in a war the likes of which recent generations have never seen," he leads the group across a archway to the opposite side of a busy street, "ancient predecessors of the Sith Empire and Galactic Republic."

He glances back to the girl and astromech with an awkwardly stiff attempt at a shrug "Some things never change."

Once they reach the other side of the street Dak comes to a stop, scanning their surroundings once more. "I've traced the targets to level 627 of the Tagge District. This location has remained in disarray since the Plague," he seems to spot something he had been looking for and continues forward, expecting the two to follow him "I suspect the infrastructure will be considerably deteriorated. We won't be able to rely on the level maps."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She didn't know what that was. Hearing that year said out loud was mentally bending of any grip on mortality she had. Loske could only whistle in response. The galaxy at war was a constant, it just seemed the scale of it was subject to variability.

"An archeologist's dream." She murmured at the implication of the level being relatively untouched since the plague. She'd never given that terrible spread of wicked disease much thought until Amea admitted much of her pocket change came from hunting down artifacts from the tragedy. She was effectively on guard duty now, allowing Dak to lead the way as they navigated through all the layers of the onion planet.

 

[Dak]

Loske Treicolt ​

Loske was right about that. Treasure hunters and archeologists were some of the more respected folk who found excitement in the ruins of the old. Even Dak had briefly enjoyed the thrill of rediscovering history, spending the first years of his re-activation uncovering lost relics of bygone eras, trying to find answers to the questions that lingered from the finals days of his old life.

Ironically, that same source that had fueled him to set out and explore the stars now brought dissonance between the young padawan and him. This was not some ancient site, untouched for centuries - not to him. This was Coruscant. The Jewel of the Core. The center of the Galaxy. No matter how much time he spent here, the droid still found it hard to adapt to the dramatic changes the ecumenopolis had faced in what felt like the flicker of his photoreceptors.

Without a desire to comment further and lacking in any sense of awkwardness towards silence, the droid simply doesn't respond. Their travel continues without delay, but also without much said from there. Only the occasional relaying of directions or passive comment are uttered by the droid. The deeper the group travels into the lower levels, the more Dak's focus seems to narrow on that task at hand.

It would not be an easy one.

After nearly two hours of navigating increasingly narrow streetways, dilapidated neighbourhoods and questionable lifts, Dak finally stops the others infront of an old, sealed doorway within a rundown industrial sector. Despite the deafening whirs of machinery and buzz of electricity being evidence of use, the crumbling electrical relay station the droid had brought them to appears to be completely forsaken. Likely running on nothing more than luck.

Dak reaches forward and digs his fingers between the door panels, attempting to pry them open. The metal creeks under the applied pressure, but fails to release. "This entrance should lead to an old elevator shaft that runs through level 627," he begins to explain "between the destruction deeper down and reconstruction of these upper levels, it's one of the only charted points of entry that still remain."

He gives one final tug before giving up and taking a step back "It appears to have been welded from the other side. Likely maintenance droids attempting to prevent wanderers from opening it and falling to their deaths."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Patiently, the astromech and pilot waited for Dak to make an attempt to open the leering door ahead of them. This was the first obstacle in their journey, and they gave enough pause to appreciate it as such.

The door wanted to open, it's noisy protests to the welding suggested so. While Dak made a second attempt, Loske's gaze wandered about the establishment, appraising the destination for the first time they were able to stand still and take it in. Finally, he admitted defeat. If the war machine couldn't pry open the shaft door, there was little hope for Frank's cauterizing abilities against the welding prowess of droids made to seal things.

She inclined her head ever so slightly when the guardian admitted defeat. Stepping forward, she looked at the panels as if she were an engineer who could properly assess the situation.

"Thoughtful of them." Without much further introduction, the padawan unclipped the hilt at her hip and ignited a blade as golden as her heart (aww!). With a two handed grip, she leaned the blade into the thick doorway. The metal bubbled and boiled, melting at the insertion of the saber and hissing angrily while she carved and arc from the floor to about shoulder-height. When she was satisfied with the dome-shape, she disengaged the blade and re-clipped.

"Back it up." She followed her own instruction, and took a step back while two fingers gestured at the incision that fell forward, collapsing at their feet and exposing what was behind.