The Dead God
The synthetic sun blazed its dichotomic orange and blue behind space that seemed to stretch on forever - a hundred stars in the distance of that artificial room, and Maliphant couldn’t help but stare at a small one. Of course, this was based on a real skybox taken in the Outer Rim - and because of that Maliphant saw the distant light of Bastion’s star; and a finger tapped idly on his force masked face.
Dorian Harper turned back to the table with papers, screens, and a menagerie of information given out to him. He sighed something heavily as he considered what was going to come of this, and the resulting fallout the InterGalactic Banking Clan might incur from such meddling. His Deputy Director Cauldor Dune was on his way, and the guilty party of ‘Gat Tambor’ was doubly invited.
Unknowingly, both the Technoid Manufactorum and to a lesser degree, Jaeger Solutions had found themselves vested heavily in the growing war effort in Sith Space; and while that alone wouldn’t be an issue, it was the fact the IGBC had personally signed various checks over to them to build a fleet. Dorian rubbed at his temple as the door opened, and his gaze moved up to those that entered.
“Gentleman, we have a problem.”
“And, an opportunity.”