From Dust to Dreams

[Alkor Centaris]

The bustling spaceport of Manda housed several thousand ships at a time. As the only truly safe starting point of hyperlane travel to the planet Roon merchants not only frequented the planet, but they gathered there to settle and peddle their wares as well. It also moved offered a straight shot to Bothawui, which made it a coveted intersection by the Empire and many other powerful groups over the past several millennia. Alkor stood as a representative of the Brotherhood's interests, but more than that, as a Liaison for Balmorran Arms. The board of directors had brought him under severe pressure to spread their assets further out than the Colonies for safekeeping in light of the spread of the Sith threat.

Once Balmorra itself fell into Sith hands and the planet became subject to similar blockades that were levied on nearby Kuat, they told Alkor that he was out of time. This far into the Outer Rim, there was a great deal of breathing room, and a new factory could churn out droids and weapons that would be most helpful in taking back Balmorra and quashing the Sith entirely. At least, that had been their rationale.

In reality, Alkor saw a great deal of difficulty. If he was to secure the lands they wanted, it would take a good deal of negotiation (which Alkor himself was terrible at) and a healthy amount of investment. The latter would not be difficult with the amount Balmorran kept in bonds and trust, secured far outside the hands of the Sith threat. Alkor kept the only means of access to those credits on his person at all times.

The surface of Manda was rife with settlement and busy streets. Aroo was a mercantile city, far more modest than the Coruscanti skyscrapers or the blue light district back in Coronet, on Corellia. It was more like Mos Eisley or Mos Espa, smaller establishments that brought in a considerable cash flow, albeit by far more legal means.

"Show me the money, and I'll talk to you about the land you're looking for," the younger entrepreneur spoke over his nose, looking down at Alkor. The shorter man was not amused, but he did not resort immediately to aggression. They were in a lounge not far from the spaceport, a retreat of sorts for the wealthier bourgeois that stopped on the planet. It was not Alkor's idea of a good time.

"Show me the land," Alkor replied flatly, "or credits aren't even on the table. I've got a business venture weighing down on me and I'm not wasting my time on snobbish elites to get it done. If I have to go make a farmer into a rich man to get what I want, you're going to have to deal with the competition."

"You're not very good at this, are you?" the other man laughed, and it sounded almost like pity. He turned and walked away.

"I need a drink," Alkor muttered to himself.

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Manda was a frequent stop for Tmoxin Temi as she lived on nearby Bothawui on the Seven Moons Ranch, and the ease of the trade route made the busy Hapan’s life easier. Between running her two companies and the keffi ranch, not to mention picking up an extra assignment here and there from the Sith Triumvirate, she had very little time to do what she enjoyed doing.

Riding keffis, the majestic creatures she’d fell in love with when stationed as an officer on Anaxes.

However, she would not be astride a keffi on Manda. Clad in business attire – a black dress and towering beige heels:

Spoiler

Tmoxin had just finished a meeting with a research and development firm which wanted to do business with Morpho Pharmaceuticals, and before she’d made her way back to the Manda spaceport, she decided to stop inside a cozy lounge not too far from her destination.

The red-haired Hapan strode up to the bar and ordered a glass of Smuggler’s Red, her favorite Corellian wine, and although the Mandan wine came highly recommended, Tmoxin was a creature of habit. She did not often stray from what she knew. She had taken huge risks with her financial affairs, but she did not get to where she was in the galaxy by taking chances with her life.

Turning her head at the sound of a man’s barking laugh, she gazed upon the two Mandans (or so she thought) making a deal of some kind. Once the laughing man walked away, another human remained at the bar, and she just barely heard his request for a drink. Normally not one for charity cases, Tmoxin was in a generous mood today, knowing her own tedious negotiation was done for the day.

“Buy that man a drink,” she said to the bartender, handing him a credit chip. “Your best of whatever he wants.” She scanned his aura and was surprised to feel a Force signature, quite a strong one, in fact. But she said nothing about it. Although it intrigued her, whether he were Jedi or Sith, was not really her business. She sat on the stool, sipping her wine, watching the Force user from the corner of her eye.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

He buried his face in both hands at the bar. Business was not the niche Alkor filled, and he knew it. The fact that he controlled interest in a company worried him more than he liked. At its core, his position was one of protection and preventing powerful, dangerous arms from falling into Sith hands. That alone made the less glorious portion of the job worthwhile.

Alkor rubbed both tired eyes as the barkeep rattled two fingers on the countertop in front of him. "What can I get for you?" the man asked, his voice cheerier than one might have expected. "Anything you like. Just name it."

"Ale," he answered. "Corellian if you can manage."

"Of course," the man responded quickly. The Corellian Run ran not far from Manda, if you took the Mara Corridor out to Ryloth. The few distilleries that still existed made a fortune on exporting all over the galaxy. In turn, the remnant of Corellia stayed alive due to prosperous capitalists. When the man returned with a generous tankard of ale, Alkor perked right up.

He could smell it. Home. Not the home he found on a battlefield, or among comrades at arms, but genuine bloody Corellia. The hops were unlike any other in the galaxy. Aromatic, but subdued with just the right hint of spice and bitterness to make for an absolutely masterful flavor meshed together with malt unparalleled by even the best brewmasters anywhere else in the universe. Corellian drinks were second to none. A purity law on the books longer than two Republics and a Galactic Alliance held power dictated the precision with which a drink needed to be crafted to even bear the name "Corellian Ale." When he sipped it, Alkor tasted heaven in a glass.

"That," he said as he wiped his sleeve across his lips, his eyes close to tears, "is real. Corellian. Booze." He sat backward on his stool and almost fell off, but did not appear to mind. "Take it," he said as he offered his credit chip, "take it all. I don't care."

"That won't be necessary, sir," the man laughed, "this drink was paid for by the young lady just over there." He pointed toward her and smirked. "You should thank her."

"I think I will," Alkor replied as he stood up and gripped his tankard with equal measures of defensiveness and raw affection. He walked toward the Hapan with a thoughtful expression.

"Did you know they had honest to god ale here, or were you just hoping for a favorable response?" he asked. Alkor was hardly a man to speak subtly, and his lack of culture showed in every step and every word he said. "Either way, thank you. I'm Alkor Centaris. And you are?"

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

The dark-haired force user was so enamored by his ale that it was almost endearing. Tmoxin felt the same way about her wine, especially Smuggler’s Red which she had been drinking religiously for years. The thought of it took her back to her days on the desert planet of Lok, when she trained her Blood Monarchs to become sturdy Stormtroopers and would begin drinking the strong Corellian wine at two o’clock with Seargent-Major Ulysses, who was still to this day her right hand man at her company helm. The smell of sulfur from the nearby dormant volcano, and the hot sun were almost unbearable – Smuggler’s Red was good remedy for the sweaty tedium of practice drills, dry runs and war games.

There was an air of destitution about the Dark Jedi, but almost as though he’d been driven there today, not that it was a space he normally inhabited. An unusual swell of pity moved through her chest, but was instantly gone as her Hapan upbringing would keep her from sympathizing too deeply with strangers.

“Are you from Corellia?” Tmoxin asked. “My name is Tmoxin Temi. Pleased to meet your acquaintance. And what do you do on Manda, Mr. Centaris?"

Although the Hapan businesswoman had a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile, her brown eyes shone brightly, displaying interest and intrigue towards Alkor. It wasn’t often she got to relax in a cool lounge, with good wine, ale and captivating company.

Hopefully, the Dark Jedi Master would not disappoint. Although neither of them knew it at this moment, Tmoxin had a connection with Balmorran Arms in a favorite military droid she'd used in battle more than once.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor stopped when the first question was asked. The woman probably had no idea about who he was, or why those four words gave him pause. Still, they hung in the air even as she offered her own name. "Once upon a time," he decided those words would be sufficient for answer. "I am here on business," he said in answer to her second question. "Some associates of mine have interest in purchasing land on Manda."

He waved his hand in the direction of everyone else in the room. "But, I'm no businessman, and they're not exactly compelled to make a deal with me."

Since she bought him a drink, Alkor was content to speak plainly with her. At least, as plainly as a man like Alkor got. He never mentioned who the associates were, the company they affiliated with, or what manner of construction was going to be done. He knew better than to divulge corporate secrets, especially when his own interests were involved. "I appreciate the drink, Miss Temi," he said with as much cordiality as he could afford. "At the very least, someone in this room deserves better than being spaced."

It was a most inappropriate thing to say, and several glances in his direction came just before several people moved away from them both. "I apologize," he said, "subtlety is not my forte."

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Her companion at the bar was hesitant to speak about his business, which was entirely understandable. In the north east, along the Mara corridor, Hutt Space loomed above them like a noxious odor. Tmoxin lived in this particular area of the mid-rim, and secrecy was held at an utmost premium.

Still the confidential nature of his business had her curious.

The Hapan Dark Jedi sipped her wine slowly, savoring the dry and bold taste of the Corellian red wine. Smuggler’s Red in particular had a higher alcohol content than most wine which was another reason, Tmoxin favored it. She planned to drink three (or six) glasses to relax, then put The Sovereign Stingray on autopilot for the ride back to Bothawui.

Her eyebrows raised at the man's harsh terminology, but the red-head wasn’t offended. She spent many an afternoon drinking with grizzled and retired Admirals at the Anaxes Officer’s Club while stationed as a Lieutenant of the One Sith.

“If the alternative is being slowly screwed over time by your business partners… I’d probably prefer the spacing myself,” she said with a smirk, crossing her long, equine legs. “What type of business do you do, Mr. Centaris? And does it conflict with your… other talents?”

She wasn’t sure she’d get a straight answer from the enigmatic Jedi, so she subtly nudged him with her mind, just a light pressure against his psyche to let him know that she knew exactly what those other talents were. While coercion and mental probing was one of the Hapan Jedi’s strongest skills, she didn’t want to alarm him. It would only feel like a flutter inside his head, like a shuffling of cards, to alert him that she was a fellow Force user.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor chewed the question and folded his arms. The Corellian personally did not conduct buisness, which was more than evident in the day's failures. Still, this woman seemed to want more than that. It wasn't so much that she sought knowledge of his profession so much as what he was doing in the here and now. Alkor was clear on that much. If he tried to shift around the answer, she would probably pick up on it and change the angle of her queries. The woman had a knack for finding things out, that much was obvious.

That was when something rifled at the edge of his thoughts. For someone with an aptitude for telepathy, it might have resounded with the anticipated clarity. For Alkor, who held no mental affinity- at least, not in the outward sense- it was not a sound, but a sudden, jarring sensation. Both his eyes darted to her and remained in an icier glare than his previous unassuming gaze. The warm front that he put on for the sake of business accumen dropped, and he watched the Hapan woman carefully.

His mind bled away from the Force, the sudden diminishment of his thoughts obvious to any telepath.

It was a knee-jerk reaction, but one most necessary when dealing with the "persuasive" types that the Jedi sent to nullify aggressions, or the Sith used to get their way. Alkor was forged a weapon, and by virtue of that he trusted very few people. People who touched his mind fell somewhere near the absolute bottom of that list.

"I am on Manda as a representative of Balmorran Arms," he informed her curtly. "The company is seeking new investors and to expand operations in the Outer Rim. Balmorra sits in strategic position to trade with the Core Worlds and Inner Rim, so it enjoys a profitable amount of commerce already. Current hostilities have placed a certain strain on their assets, however, so it stands to reason they might take a vested interest in.."

He chose the next words with care. "Not placing all their eggs in a single basket, so to speak."

Whatever she intended to glean by revealing herself as a Force Adept, or by broadcasting her knowledge that he was one as well remained to be seen. He did not immediately acknolwedge that question aloud, but his internal response would have spoken volumes. The Hapan woman had rubbed the cat's fur in the wrong direction, and it had swatted at her hand.

He lifted the ale to his lips, sipped, then dangled it in front of the woman and leaned forward. His arm draped over the back of her chair and she could most likely smell the alcohol on his breath as he spoke in a low voice. "I'm afraid," he whispered, "I'm not quite drunk enough to answer your other question."

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

The change in Mr. Centaris’s features told Tmoxin all she needed to know. He felt her presence there inside his mind and had a quite normal reaction to it which was slightly intentional on her part. She wasn’t intruding to read his thoughts or glean information. It was purely a nod to her own power as a Jedi, and the fact that she knew he was a force user as well. The red-haired Hapan then noticed his thoughts caving in, withdrawing and retreating. And as though a door was harshly slammed in her face, she could no longer sense his emotions, the mental barrier, not even strong, just absent and void.

An interesting technique speaking to his own psychic fortitude. Perhaps there would be time to investigate that further, but for now, she would not press and eventually withdrew. Tmoxin’s brown-eyes remained impassive until Mr. Centaris mentioned Balmorran Arms, and her face broke into a smile.

“Though not state-of-the-art, the X-1 Viper is one of the most powerful war droids in the galaxy,” said the Hapan Jedi quite enthusiastically. In fact, she admired the power and ferocity of the Automadon so much, that after she left the OS military, she’d considered hiring a smuggler to break in and steal the designs so she could recreate it using her own funding. “I have fond memories of using one on Terminus.” Tmoxin had a more intimate contact originally located on Balmorra, now on Kuat, but at risk of a bittersweet reflection, she said nothing about this.

“And of course any business located in One Sith territory won’t be left alone for long. It’s why my operations are in Wild Space as I do not like to take orders. Especially from psychopaths.” She traced the rim of her glass with a manicured finger.

Mr. Centaris’s coldness did not affect her. If they were to talk business, it would be impersonal. If they were to drink together, it could become very personal indeed. But ultimately, Tmoxin was used to rubbing people the wrong way. Ambition normally mingled with discomfort, especially when gender was involved. But being Hapan afforded her an iron-clad skin in this respect as most men would never be equals under her calculating gaze.

Most men of course. Some transcended this built-in prejudice.

After he leaned in closer, explaining that he would need to be drunk to expose more, she turned to the bartender, her chin titled upwards and she said, “Another round over here, please.” Turning back to Mr. Centaris and leaning in herself, the smell of his ale, mixing with her exotic and expensive perfume, she asked, “Why did your other investors leave so suddenly? Is it merely because of where Balmorran Arms is located? Or is something else amiss with the company?”

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"The company refuses to deal with Sith," Alkor explained as he took a step back and distanced himself from the Hapan. She obviously had a fair deal of experience dealing with intimidation, and her choler did not seem to rise when he forcibly closed his mind to the Force. Alkor learned to read people when he became a killer. As time moved forward and the Dark Jedi turned his psyche into more machine than man, he became even better at understanding and systematically breaking down subtle tells, emotions, and speech. This woman had a certain knack for business acumen- she only showed what she wanted to, and it was only what she most likely assumed that the listener would want to see or hear.

When she deviated from the topic, she instantly fell seamlessly back onto the previous track of conversation and it seemed as if he'd never slighted her. That was interesting. She was invested in the conversation just enough not to give up. She went as far as to order him another round. "Their majority shareholder has a vested interest in not dealing with them, and they share those values due to the grim history of their company." He accepted the refill without looking up or thanking the server. "Of course, with the Sith blockade around Balmorra, operating solely from the Colonies is ineffectual anyway. They have ways of getting information in and out, but it's just better business to not need the middle men."

This was nothing that was not in the latest press release, save perhaps the identity of the majority shareholder. The company was largely publicly traded for the simple amount of money that could come out of it. It could probably be traced by a competent slicer or someone with an abundance of free time, of course. "If you're interested in war droids, I can accommodate you with information regarding a broker in the area."

He placed the drink down and sat across from Tmoxin with his hands folded in his lap. "Provided you're not affiliated with Sith, you should have no problem with the initial screenings." It was almost like the opening move in a chess game. The next few moments would likely turn into a probing exchange, if experience told him anything. Quid pro quo.

"Tell me," he said, "were you born in the Hapes cluster, or was your family colonial?" He had dealt with the Queen Mother only once during his tenure, as a deal of sorts with the Dark Jedi. Alkor had never met her directly, of course. He met with a liaison, a woman who represented her interests. It was a matter that royalty ought not sully their hands with, so she said, and they would have sent a man- but one ought to never trust a man to do the job of a woman.

Apparently murder was not a job for a woman.

"You want to know about Corellia," he invited as he carefully watched her gaze. "Teach me about you."

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

"Of course. Very understandable," Tmoxin commented upon the revelation that proximity to the One Sith frightened away investors to Balmorran Arms.

But the Hapan Dark Jedi was not your normal investor, nor was she afraid of the Sith. She would make a fine venture capitalist in Mr. Centaris's company if he felt that he could trust her. She drained her current glass and began on her second. Tmoxin was a seasoned drinker, a skill honed by a few years with the Red Raven crime syndicate where she had to conduct business in seedy cantinas, drunk within an inch of passing out in the highest of heels. Luckily, she'd walked away physically unscathed. Emotionally, perhaps, she was more scarred based on losing either a lover or a power game of which she felt with certainty at the time that she would win.

"Yes I would like to investigate the war droids further, but let me ask you, how do you know that I'm Hapan? Is it a lucky guess?"

She hadn't revealed that she'd grown up on Hapes under the bright light of the Seven Moons. Was it that apparent in her smug demeanor?

"Mr. Centaris, while I didn't take you to be an expert mentalist, are you reading my mind right now?" she asked.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"The features," he waved a hand in the direction of her face. "Striking, unmarred by impurities, the way even your hair looks almost too perfect. Hapans are essentially bred for consummate beauty. Their women are among the most powerful in the galaxy in terms of influence, and you carry yourself like a heavy hitting member of the aristocracy." It inferred he had a deep, vast and intimiate knowledge of her kind.

No, it wasn't that he was reading her mind. He tilted his proverbial hand and showed the observational skills of a serial murderer largely to gauge how she would react. When he sipped his drink, he made sure their eyes never lost contact. "The accent is admittedly lost on me- perhaps time has eroded the original article?"

He knew more than his fair share about that. How people destroyed their heritage out of hate, or convinence, and they changed themselves into something more suited to their needs. Maybe that wasn't it at all, of course. Maybe she only spoke with the less verbose and infinitely less seductive words of a diplomat to keep her peers more comfortable. After all, many men absolutely hated it when they felt like they'd lost control. Alkor held the drinking glass in front of his face and peered through the deep caramel color within. Through that lens, her features were distorted and colored like the earth. In that light, even the most beautiful faces became plain.

"You showed me your trick," he explained. "I thought it an act of courtesy to show you mine. As way of thanks for the drink, of course."

He placed the glass down once more and folded both hands in his lap. "Now that we're on a more level field, was it within the Transitory Mists, or somewhere outside?"

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Mr. Centaris was very perceptive indeed. Tmoxin was so free of impurities that even the Hapan trait of poor night vision due to the blinding light of the many Hapan moons had been corrected with surgery by the hand of her brother no less.

"I left Hapes when I was younger… to attend the University of Coruscant. I lost my accent somewhere along the way. I suppose it sounds like a Holo Newscaster at this point," she said. "Your standard Galactic Basic lilt."

She sipped her own wine, this time slower, the same speed with which she drew out her next words.

"My mother is involved in Hapan politics. I grew up on Hapes itself in a charmed enclave outside of the Castle of Per'Agthra. After college I served the Queen Mother as one of her Secret Commandos. My track was always by way of the military."

But one thing was certain. Mr. Centaris knew Hapes, but whether he'd been a pirate in those Transitory Mists or a Prince visiting Ta'a Chume'Dan once, he was familiar. But like his impenetrable mind, he was a very hard man to place figuratively and philosophically. She'd have to get to know him better to make snap judgment calls.

"You have been to Hapes though, I can tell. What is your experience with my beloved home world?" Tmoxin asked as they eased into more personal drinking conversation. She left out information that she was estranged from her parents, her siblings and had an arrest warrant out for her there, but who needed to recount those small and untidy details?

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor clicked his tongue and waved a warding finger as she asked a second question. "One answer for one answer," he told her, "you asked about my homeworld, and I asked about yours. So, I'll oblige your questions in that order." He considered her answers and weighed them for a moment before speaking. There was a great deal of willingness to divulge there, though he doubted a woman who was so interested in learning him would give up too much. In fact, she probably gave out bare minimum in exchange for as much as she could get. That's how the game was played, after all.

"I was born in Coronet," he told her, "and lived there until I was fifteen. I dreamed like all the other Corellian boys of freedom, and the endless azure skies." That was their passion, the Corellians. To fly forever, duty bound to the Five Brothers and honor above all else. In another life, even Alkor might have been a Green Jedi. Alas, that was never to be. "I spent the time from boyhood into adolescence learning to fly, and to survive on my own. I did not know my father, and my mother was addicted to spice. CorSec released files pertaining to her death to the HoloNet sometime after I left Corellia."

He did not seem saddened by the loss. In fact if Alkor felt anything about it at all, it was not apparent. "I never returned."

Alkor did not expound on the nature of his decision not to return, nor did he explain the circumstances that surrounded bis departure. None of that seemed incredibly relevant, and it was a topic he rarely discussed with anyone. Alkor did not like others involved with his personal affairs.

"You were involved with the military," he latched on to that bit of information and wove the thread of thought into words. "Do you still deal with the Queen Mother, or have you left the business in favor of more personal ventures? With that kind of volatile information, I don't doubt they are loathe to let you off a leash." Hapans were a secretive bunch, insular with their precious knowledge. A Hapan did not dicuss matters of dire importance with those they did not trust. And even among those they did, few of those were men.

He reached for his drink and paused with his fingers on the glass. "A woman involved with the Queen's secrets would already know my name," he added with a drawl. It was a half admission, but it would forward the notion that Alkor knew there were skeletons in that particular closet.

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Tmoxin smiled softly at Mr. Centaris’s chiding. She enjoyed good conversation, and the verbal parley was disarming her Hapan coldness. Listening to his description of his childhood, both saddened her by the circumstances of his upbringing, and made her a little wistful for her own. She could not go back to Hapes… not without a fair bit of groveling, bribes and even a jail sentence. It appeared that Alkor also did not return but most likely could. Perhaps or perhaps not.

Maybe he had been just as ambitious as she was, and witnessed the ubiquitous flaming bridge behind him as he crawled so delicately across the cool moat of freedom. Such was the price of initiative at times.

“I left the Queen Mother a very long time ago,” Tmoxin admitted with a casual shrug. “I knew no more or no less secrets than the rest of the Commandos. While I was by her side in protection, I have to admit, Alkor, I was not aware of any intimate political maneuverings.”

But it was fascinating that he alluded to knowing more.

“But yes, I have been kept under a watchful eye, so much that I cannot easily go back.” And then something dawned on her like the anemic Hapan sun rising against the blinding bright light of those familiar seven moons. “But it seems that you may have an ear with the Queen. What is your relationship to her?” she asked. While she did enjoy verbal games, Tmoxin would only hold back for so long and then when she saw something advantageous, she normally pounced.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"Directly?' he smirked. "You know better. A Corellian exile with a reputation like mine would never be allowed in the same room with the Queen Mother." The secret she divulged was enough for him to give her similar knowledge. It was an interesting conversation, to say the very least. Alkor rarely had the chance to have a back and forth with someone so invested. It was almost like she wanted to know him well enough that she would give up her own secrets to gain his.

"But when your teacher had the influence of mine, you stood to be called for certain... eventualities. Bounty Hunters are effective, and they have a code that prevents them from using the private information of their employers against them- but a Bounty Hunter is only as loyal as the flow of credits. It's far more cost efficient to deal in favors. It happened that my Master owed three. Three heads rolled. I have had no reason to go back to Hapes."

He slid his ale toward her on the table and rested his hands on his knees. "It seems like you've gained valuable information from me," he smirked. It was knowledge that, if handed to the right people, could even bring the Consortium to its knees. Assassination was not uncommon among nobles, but the cost of that information circulating... that was thrilling to someone like Alkor. Alkor hated governments, hated people who lorded over others. If Tmoxin used that information for her own gain, it would not cause the Jen'jidai to lose any sleep. "Are you through with me, now?"

Alkor eyed her quietly as the bar grew more boisterous. "Because I've got only one thing left I'm interested to know, and it isn't one you can answer for me. Not here, not like this."

Was this Hapan the sort of person who would watch an entire world burn for her own gain?

Alkor wondered.

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Tmoxin frowned at Alkor's admission of the killing. It was a visceral reaction due to the fact that his intended targets were likely powerful women on the planet as females held most of the choicest positions in government, the military, education and the like. But who was she to judge? How many "infidels" had the Dark Jedi killed with her Blood Monarchs? How many innocents? How many slaves had she trained into soldiers?

You don't get to play Chief Justice, Tmoxin thought. You lost that right when you became a criminal.

And likely she would execute the Queen Mother herself if she knew the Hapan ruler was replaceable with a puppet she could control or even her own self.

So ultimately the red-head only smiled and sipped her wine. She'd never lost any sleep over what she'd done, but there were many times her sleep was aided by alcohol and occasionally pills. A clean conscious was overrated in any case. She'd rather keep herself busy with projects, and when alone, her senses quite dulled.

A bounty hunter and a Force user. Not completely unusual in and of itself, but entangled with his interest and influence in Balmorran Arms, Tmoxin couldn't help but feel as though the Corellian would make a profitable business partner somehow.

"I suppose I'm done with you Mr. Centaris, but it sounds as if you may not be done with me? Unless I misunderstand. Do you mean to leave or do you mean to take me somewhere? To show me where the bodies are hidden?" she asked, her tone climbing skyward like an upbeat tune, signaling a joke.

Still, curiosity mingled with apprehension that even the Smuggler's Red would not subdue.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"An artist never hides his work," Alkor chided as he recalled the scene vividly. "Why hide something the world deserves to see?"

The bodies were never hidden, mutilated, or burned. They were meant to be seen. It was always the intention that their fate should be known, and the knowledge that enemies of the Consortium existed would seep like poison throughout its people. It was easy for a monarch to take power over a cowering mass. They sought safety, they craved subjugation, and they needed comfort. Their darling mother was all too happy to offer it in exchange for their fealty.

Alkor almost loathed that her head had not joined with theirs.

"People with power imagine that it means something," he muttered in a discontented voice. "One man stands on top, then another tears him down and takes his place. Power grows to topple power, only to be toppled by more power. The lust never ends. The cycle goes on. Beneath the frailty, men break their backs.

Power," he said disdainfully, "is a poison."

Alkor snatched up his glass and downed the last of the ale. "No, Miss Temi, I believe I am done with you," he said with a smile, "the ale was wonderful." He peered at her quietly for several moments before he tapped the table with a finger. "What remains to be seen," he added softly, "is what kind of creature you are. I admit to a careful curiosity in that regard. Will you soar, or will you fall? I don't know which I would rather watch, honestly."

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

While Tmoxin was joking about the bodies, it appeared Mr. Centaris was not. An anxious prickle found its way down her neck and shoulders. There was something about the Dark Jedi that disturbed the Hapan, but she could not put her finger on what it was.

Better to examine that later in the safety of The Sovereign Stingray, as it would be set on autopilot, and she could either review her task list for tomorrow or ruminate on the strange meeting.

“Mr. Centaris, I have already fallen. I know what it’s like to hit the ground at one hundred miles an hour with not a penny to your name and a bounty on your head. It’s why I do not often visit the Core Words myself. I assure you I may not rise, but I will not fall again."

This time, she did not smile. She merely rose and paid the tab for both of them.

“But I am interested in the X-1 Viper," the redhead added. "I will contact you when I’m ready for the broker.”

She turned and made her own way out of the bar, steady on her impossibly high heels, even after a few glasses of the potent Smuggler’s Red. Her senses were completely on alert however as she made her way back to her luxury yacht for the short ride back to Bothawui.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"Of course not," Alkor watched her with a wry smirk on his face.

People with a great deal of pride rarely admitted their mistakes, but when they did, they were inclined to believe that they were made immune to repetition. It made for a most interesting series of thoughts, the way she spoke. "I will not fall again" made her sound like the sort of woman who never wanted to repeat her fall from grace, but that was hardly what Alkor meant. She probably guessed that much.

As she walked away, Alkor glanced up at the young man who took her seat. "Perhaps I misjudged you, Mister Centaris," he said as he pushed the glass of ale back toward the Dark Jedi. "Let's talk business. I can assure you, a plot of land is well worth bringing your friends to this planet. This venture will be extremely profitable for my investors."

"Ah, I'm glad to hear you changed your mind," Alkor nodded as he withdrew his datapad and brought up a series of pre-drafted contracts that Phaygus sent earlier. "Please, read over our terms, and my associate can brief you on the nature of our enterprise in the Manda system."

"Of course," the businessman smiled.

Alkor glanced toward the ceiling and let his senses extend outward. He sensed the tension there, drifting away with every step. "Was it fear?" he wondered aloud. "No," he answered himself. "She was hiding something."

"What?" the man asked as he looked up at Alkor.

"Just thinking aloud," the Corellian exile replied with a grin. "Please, don't mind me. Think of me only as the arbitrator."

Phaygus appeared in the form of a hologram from the datapad and began to speak, but Alkor stood and turned away. Their business would be handled in its own time. The Dark Jedi Master sipped the last of his ale and closed his eyes contently. "We here on Balmorra are pleased to conclude these dealings amicably," Phaygus' voice croaked with a degree of pleasure. "Thank you, mister Akros, for your investment. We will not disappoint you."

"Of course not," the man smiled. "I cannot wait to see how your business brings Manda's economy into greater prosperity." He bowed, and Phaygus dissipated. Alkor collected his datapad. "If you had allowed him to speak from the beginning, you might have avoided that conversation entirely," Akros joked.

"Oh," Alkor passed his glass to the droid collecting empties. "Knowledge is a useful tool, friend. I advise you not to forget that."

"Of course," the man frowned. Alkor turned and headed out the door.

"I will see her again soon enough." he muttered.

It was important to understand what sort of person you were dealing with. Now she knew what Alkor was.

Monsters don't always hide their faces.

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]