Private in mediās rēs

[Zesh Harko]

HARKO
LOCATION: ROTHANA | Confederacy Capitol
TAGS: Xazzex Xivar
GEAR: Borrowed clothes, no weapons
LISTNEING: spaceport ambiance​

“From this day forward, our Confederacy will flourish and be respected again all across the galaxy. We will not allow ourselves to be taken advantage of any longer. Our sovereignty will be reclaimed. Our safety will be restored. The scales of justice will be rebalanced. Starlight is pouring over our sector, and the Confederacy has the chance to seize this opportunity like never before.”

A pre-recorded holoprojection played in the terminal of the Rothana capital spaceport. A dramatic voiceover preached praises of the Confederacy to a visual montage of accomplishments. City skylines, starship fleets, universities, noble-looking squads of armored soldiers flanked by droids, industrial and tech centers brimming with innovation.

Harko sighed. He’d sat through the long video loop three times as he waited on a barely cushioned bench against one of the terminal’s towering polished metal walls. Upon his arrival he was instructed to wait there. He occasionally glanced around to see if anybody might be holding up a sign with his name on it.

Swaths of people fluttered through the building. Some looked like government attachés and corporate representatives. Their high-heels and dress shoes clacked echoes in the metallic rotunda. While Harko sat alone wearing the drab spacer clothing that the recruiter had most graciously lent to him. At least he blended in with the commoners dragging their luggage with them into the check-in lines and out of the cold Rothanian weather.

He wasn’t appropriately dressed for a job interview but it was better than the prison jumper he had woken up in. That would have earned him more than a few side-eye glances from the patrolling security guards.

“From this day forward,” the projection looped again. Harko wasn’t usually nervous. He had once been able to slip in effortlessly in places just like this. The right clothes, the right smile, the right mind tricks. Where had that man gone?

He’d had time to do research on the flight to Rothana. The galaxy had taken a dark shift in the time that Harko was frozen. The fall of the Rimward Trade League, the fracturing of the Tingel Arm Coalition, the Dark Empire’s grip on the inner core; it was all horrifying. Even the once all-powerful Galactic Alliance was unable to halt the darkness circling it like a noose. The expanding shadow of dark side influence seemed unstoppable.

This all made Harko even more suspicious about the Confederacy’s motives. His research into them found many familiar faces of the Outer Rim. Sectorist planetary governors and corporate interests. Some things never change, but the question remained in his mind; was evil puppeting them as well? He did not sense any force sickness within the place but he wasn’t fully convinced. The dark side was difficult to sense. Not that it matters, at least not at the moment. He needed to regroup, collect himself and form a plan for this fresh chapter.

“-the chance to seize this opportunity like never before,” the voiceover unintentionally mirrored Harko’s own thoughts. Perhaps there was.​

 

[Xazzex Xivar]

"You have someone in mind?"

With a subtle roll of her head, green fingers quietly laid the silverware across the now empty plate. Golden rings lifted to regard the man from beneath the pronounced brows of the Falleen people. "I always have someone for a job."

* * *​

A thin Rodian in a well-fitted suit strode through the terminal. His large, black orbs took in the world as he calmly moved among the masses. They mostly moved around him, in truth, as his gait and direction never wavered; not even with a few travelers giving oath for the slow moving obstacle of a man. He passed by Zesh and continued down the way until he was lost in the crowd. Countless voices and announcements mixed with the droning advertisement; as did countless faces of nameless, disinterested creatures.

Minutes later, however, a familiar Rodian appeared once more with the same stride. They were faced in the opposite direction now. Someone stretching their legs? Trapped waiting for a transport hours away? They had no baggage of any kind, however. Their suit might suggest a business man of a kind. Someone with a public-facing government job? Their shoes were polished without signs of being worn to their last. Not just a facade -- or a well made one.

As the distance between them shortened, the man drew to a stop a few feet away with their wide black orbs turned in Zesh's direction. They stood silent as stone for a moment. "Excuse me," his long snout flexed as he spoke, "are you here for a job? My employer is interested in meeting you." This was the right person, wasn't it? They certainly had the look. Not the clothing or stature, at least hunkered down as he was, but the face was about right from the description he'd been given. "I have a car waiting for us outside." If this was the right person.

Zesh Harko​

 

[Zesh Harko]

HARKO
LOCATION: ROTHANA | Confederacy Capitol
TAGS: Xazzex Xivar
GEAR: Borrowed clothes, no weapons
LISTNEING: spaceport ambiance​

Harko bounced his leg to ward away a shiver. Despite the indoor heating cold drafts continuously reached inside the terminal. Rothana was frigid but it wasn’t unusually colder than any other arctic world. He blamed his temperature sensitivity on side effects from hibernation sickness, rather than the anxiety it really was. He absent-mindly tugged on the borrowed gloves that were slightly too large for his hands. Footfalls stopped near Harko. He was pulled out of his self-pity party.

“Excuse me,” a well-dressed Rodian spoke to him. Harko successfully fought back the instinct to flinch from the surprise. Was this his contact? The alien looked official enough.

“Trulan nee wankpah,” Harko replied in a gravelly whisper. The alien cocked his head in confusion, the small top antennae on his head twitching.

“Sorry,” Harko continued, rising to his feet, “my Rodian is a little rusty. Of course. After you,” he gestured to the door. The alien made an audible hmnf before heading in the direction of the ground transport area. Harko insisted on following behind him. He was uncomfortable having a stranger at his back. He made occasional subtle glances over his shoulder and used reflections in metal and glass to check if someone was tailing them.

Harko shivered again. They walked across the concrete expanse surrounding the spaceport. Speeders lined the drop off area with travelers pulling bags from trunks or loading them up. One specific speeder stood out to him. It was very clean, freshly so, and looked expensive. He didn’t recognize the model which made him think it must also be very new. Maybe a rental.

The Rodian led him directly up to it. The alien opened the rear door and stood back to stare at him with a gesture to get inside. Harko hesitated.

He flashed back to that day on Dantooine where he had the chance of entering a shuttle and going back to his old life at the SIA. He had run away instead. Should he make a break for it again? It was now or never. He considered forgetting all of the shadow nonsense, all of the spy games and politics. He could flee off-world. Try to link up with whatever remained of his revolutionary contacts.

No. He wouldn’t make that same mistake again. He nodded silently to thank the Rodian and stepped into the car.​

 

[Xazzex Xivar]

When they arrived, they were greeted by the majordomo at the door with a kind smile and few words. Harko's escort would lead the way into the heart of the establishment filled with people in tailored and lavish attires. He'd stop short of a back corner opposite the kitchen and gesture for his charge to continue forward -- toward a lone occupant in the corner booth.

Even from afar it was easy to see the lithe shape had green skin and black hair. A deceptive appearance to those that knew most Falleen went without much if any hair at all. There were perks to being of high position, and of keeping people from assuming too much about her at a glance.

Xazzex sat with a glass cradled by the tips of her fingers in one hand, and a datapad in the other. Waiting for someone to arrive was no excuse for laziness. There were a great many things to keep tabs on and influence in the galaxy. Even the Chancellor of the Galactic Alliance wouldn't find this Falleen early waiting their arrival like a lost puppy. If anything, Xazzex would have had such a person arrive to an empty booth and await her arrival instead.

If Harko would saddle up easily, the distinctive features of a Falleen woman would come into view swiftly. Her golden eyes would lift to regard him for a moment before a finger uncurled from the glass to point across from her for him to join her. On the other hand, if he took too long to join her she'd simply command him to take a seat.

"I am Xazzex Xivar, Second in Command of the Confederacy," she stated as a matter of fact. "And I want to know why you're here." The tip of a nail clinked against the side of the glass twice while her golden eyes regarded Harko.

Zesh Harko​

 

[Zesh Harko]

HARKO
LOCATION: ROTHANA | Confederacy Capitol
TAGS: Xazzex Xivar
GEAR: Borrowed clothes, no weapons
LISTENING: chopin​

“Where are we headed?” Harko had attempted to ask the Rodian on the ride through Rothana. He’d received no reply. It was actually a good sign. Cartel errand boys and bag men tended to be chatty. He ruled out that it was at least that kind of a setup.

It was equally quiet on the walk into the restaurant, aside from the majordomo that seemed to recognize the alien. Another good sign. The establishment was refined, the clientele equally so. Elegant but lacking the gaudy trappings and overly attractive wait staff that typically indicated a mob front. The place had real taste. Real wealth. Corporate wealth.

The alien stopped, turned and gestured to a corner booth. Harko nodded and moved through the tight footpath. He looked back to see the Rodian watching him, making sure the newcomer didn’t try anything. As Harko approached he could see the trademark green skin tone of a Falleen. Then those piercing golden eyes, it had to be-

"I am Xazzex Xivar, Second in Command of the Confederacy," she stated as a matter of fact. "And I want to know why you're here."

It was. Harko took his seat. No handshakes. No pleasantries. No nonsense. He knew as much about the vice-head of state from what he was able to gather through his research. Some said that if Keldra was the noble rapier of the Confederacy then Xazzex was its golden dagger. The fact that she was here meant this meeting was the real deal after all.

“Well, I-” Harko was cut short by the arrival of a waiter bearing an ornate carafe of water to fill his glass. One quick glance from Xazzex shooed the man away. Harko cleared his throat and gathered his nerves.

“I’m wondering the same thing Ms. Xivar. I was told you have a position you’re looking to fill and that I’d be a good fit. There was mention that you have unique problems that need solving. Some weeds that need pulling to clear the garden for the new Confederacy to flourish. Or perhaps some weeds that need to be planted in your competitors’ plots to keep their attention off of yours?”

“But first, I need to know,” Harko straightened up in his chair, “are the ideals of your Confederacy real or is all this talk about ‘independence’ just a carrot on a stick?”​

 

[Xazzex Xivar]

Xazzex watched the man as he implied what service he could offer. He was there because there was a job, and he had a skill set suited to such was it? There were certainly many with that mindset in orbit of the Falleen that sat there silently weighing the man's worth. A mercantile and usable tool, but not one she should expect to take the initiative. A job that paid.

Then he asked a question. Something of a bold question to put before a person of her prestige and position. Many would be too timid to dare. A few others might mistakenly believe the firebrand of a Falleen to exalt similar in those in her employ. Well, they weren't that wrong, but there were limits. In fact, his question did him service; it suggested there might be something more than his presence being there for the credits.

"I was the Viceroy of Falleen under the last Confederacy of Independent Systems of the Southern Reaches." A fact Harko might know if he'd research her ahead of time, but she'd say it all the same. "My predecessor inducted us into their clutches, and I gave him the retirement he so richly deserved for his efforts." They'd been killed and she'd taken their place. "I spent my time keeping the countless bleeding hearts from exhausting the riches of entire worlds for any number of fools' errands. And I say this so you know as long as I occupy that Office this Confederacy will hold true to the Independence of its members. What mandates exist for all are to maintain balance and a free market to separate it from anarchy -- an economic force torn apart by its own ravenous hunger."

The wine slowly rose to her lips for a casual sip as she regarded the man across from her through the glass. "Now, what are you seeking, Mister Harko?" They needed to get a read on one another before details of the job were given; once the exchange occurred there could be only one of two outcomes -- employment or death. The option to leave ignorant and untouched evaporated when the job was accepted, so best save both of them trouble if they weren't a fit. Nothing said they weren't yet, but she was curious if he'd be open about his own personal desires.

Zesh Harko​

 

[Zesh Harko]

HARKO
LOCATION: ROTHANA | Confederacy Capitol
TAGS: Xazzex Xivar
GEAR: Borrowed clothes, no weapons
LISTENING: chopin​

His pointed question would have flustered a lesser dignitary. The typical response was nervous laughter, dodging the question, or reciting some practiced monologue with patronizing pseudo-passion. Not Xazzex. Her words were sharp but Harko felt that she was sincere. Part of him had wanted his suspicions to be true; that the Confederacy was using the namesake of a previous power to conceal greed and bureaucracy. Perhaps he was wrong.

"Now, what are you seeking, Mister Harko?"

She knew his name. A subtle power move to remind him that she was the one in control of the situation. Harko felt like he had flown directly into a spider’s web. There was no more use in playing with subtlety. He needed to go all in.

“Let me be clear, despite what you may have heard, I’m not a mercenary. I don’t care about wealth or vainglory. I’m seeking one thing. Independence. Not just for me but for all peoples in the galaxy. I seek an end to exploitation, oppression, and alienation.”

Harko leaned in and reduced his tone to just above a whisper, “but don’t mistake me for one of those ‘bleeding hearts.’ I know exactly what it takes to achieve this kind of independence, and more so, to protect it. It’s ugly. It requires a strong stomach and a disregard for privileged morality. I think you know what I mean."

He leaned back to compose himself, “to do this with the Confederacy I only need two things. First, resources. Department funding and connections. I can take care of the rest. Second, and more importantly, I need your trust,” he paused, “I’m aware that’s a much bigger ask.”

Harko sipped his glass of water, no longer caring if it contained poisons or truth serums. He swallowed the liquid along with his pride. “What will it take to earn that?”

He awaited his fate. What she would say next would determine if he had a future or if this was his last meal as a living man.
​

 

[Xazzex Xivar]

Xazzex wondered if the man might mistake her for a Patron Saint of Independence -- the sort he sought, anyway. She was a champion of independence, yes, but not so far as it completely erased exploitation and oppression from the galaxy. There were the Falleen Pirates and criminal enterprises to think of, after all. They'd have her deposed for the same reason she'd gotten rid of that man if their profits dried up. To say nothing of certain methods used by corporations in the Southern Rim.

Harko went on to elaborate about his own beliefs and what it took to see it done. Surprisingly practical, this man. Not a blind idealist -- if a touch foolish envisioning a galaxy free of oppression, but it wasn't a crime to dream. What's more Harko even laid out two things he'd need for them to be mutually beneficial toward each other; neither of which were outrageous.

"Results." Xazzex paused with a small smirk on her dark lips. Actions spoke far louder than words. Not just because she was drowning in politics, but because it was true among criminals as well. Some would say they were practically the same group. Either way, words were cheap and the galaxy full of self-aggrandizing and bloviating people.

"The resources will be at your disposal. Officially you will still have reporting requirements, but so long as you do not fail and draw attention to yourself or the Confederacy in a negative light, you'll maintain discretion on how much of the operational details are shared." One didn't establish an operative by tying their hands behind their back with paperwork and oversight -- too much moral hand-wringing by Parliament. Harko probably already understood what happened if things did go "poorly." It ranged from discomfort to termination depending on the severity and whether they could avoid anything being brought to the public's attention. "I'll also provide you with a list of names. Connections." Some of which would be on that list for both their skill, and so they were indispensable to a morally flexible man like Harko -- people that were better kept than targeted.

Perhaps in time the man would figure out some of their connection to Xazzex. Whether he learned the real nature of that relationship or not only time would tell, and what he made of it would prove intriguing.

"It is my expectation you won't remain a one-man operation in the long-term, Harko. The galaxy is too big for any one of us to shoulder it alone." Naturally, they'd work together to ensure his funding increased accordingly as the ranks grew.

The emerald woman paused to take another sip of her wine. "To start, I have a job for you. You'll have time to settle in to accommodations setup for your arrival, but then I require your services handling a delicate matter on Roatha."

Zesh Harko​

 

[Zesh Harko]

HARKO
LOCATION: ROTHANA | Confederacy Capitol
TAGS: Xazzex Xivar
GEAR: Borrowed clothes, no weapons
LISTENING: chopin​

"Results."

That magic word. The thing that separated the useful from the useless. For Harko, that thin line was the difference between life and death. He couldn’t suppress a queasy feeling. His thoughts tangled, feeling like he was suddenly back under the thumb of the Alliance. Was he selling out to the very institutions he claimed to oppose? What if his comrades could see him now?

He shook the thoughts away. This was different. Xazzex’s condition was reasonable. Rational. If their seats were switched in the moment he imagined he would give the same condition. He listened as she laid out the details.

"It is my expectation you won't remain a one-man operation in the long-term, Harko. The galaxy is too big for any one of us to shoulder it alone."

His eyes flicked wide for a split-second as she stared him down across the table. Imperceptible to most but a tiny detail someone like her undoubtedly noticed. He knew she was speaking to his vulnerabilities and desires in a manner that would pierce his bravado. It worked. Such calculation. Such finesse.

"To start, I have a job for you.

Harko sipped his glass. He opened his palms in an expression to convey that he was sold.

“Alright then, boss,” he tasted the final word as it left his lips. It felt both right and wrong. He had intended it as a barb but his subconscious delivered it with sincerity. Was he losing his edge? He couldn’t afford that if he wanted to survive in this new faction of politics and influence. He had to stay sharp. “What would you like me to do?”

​

 

[Xazzex Xivar]

"The Confederacy isn't ashamed of its desire to promote industry and advancement. What the Mandalorians sought to do by strength alone, we strive to accomplish through innovation: the elevation of the worlds at the Rim. Bountiful, untapped resources. Radically new perspectives leading to tantalizing new developments that'll rival anything coming out of the Core. We seek to make the galaxy salivate at a potential so often leveraged for war with no regard for their people."

Sales pitch? No doubt sounded like one. Unnecessary elaboration of what they'd already shared? Perhaps. What she sought to convey, however, was they weren't going to approach their ambitions by being timid. Fear of stepping up to the precipice wouldn't stop them. All that being true, and as she had alluded to earlier, there was a precipice. One that could destroy them long before realizing their potential.

"There are those among us that believe even that is not enough. That we should be more like the Hutts in seizing control of great swathes of land and strip mining planets for their resources in order for personal enrichment." Which wasn't to say they were going to crusade against their neighbors to stop their greedy machinations. If Zesh wanted to create a perfect world where people could claim a better, brighter future, but without sacrificing everything in order to do so, then he should support the Confederacy -- an entity that recognized that there were limits even if they might be further out than some liked.

"Impatience leads to reckless action that threatens to crash our markets built on mutually beneficial trade." The Faleen lifted the datapad she'd been reading when Zesh first approached. She slowly extended it across the table for the man to take. "It's a sort of people that have no place in the Confederacy, but acting against them openly would invite civil unrest." People as a whole hated nuance and liked things to be kept simple. They could make it simple, but there'd always be the contrarians, the doubters, the absurdists that would lash out even if was against their best interest to do so. On the other hand, if the hostile elements would to collapse in on themselves... well, it was a cut throat market, and not everyone succeeded.

Xazzex paused to take a drink of her wine as she regarded the man. "Minimizing the rippling effects is as important as excising the threat."

Zesh Harko​

 

[Zesh Harko]

HARKO
LOCATION: ROTHANA | Confederacy Capitol
TAGS: Xazzex Xivar
GEAR: Borrowed clothes, no weapons
LISTENING: chopin​

Xazzex had Harko’s full attention as she explained the current situation of the Confederacy. There were power struggles at play. It was to be expected, no organization that spanned multiple star systems was without internal friction. This was especially true of a group like the Confederacy. Galactic corporate interests loved to sink their teeth into upstart governments, hoping to beat their rivals to the fresh meat.

The vice-head mentioned she’d seen this before. Which led Harko to believe her solution was something that had been sharpened by the past. Harko was no fan of corporations. They put profits over everything and would go as far as they could to achieve them. However, he understood the important role they played in the great galactic power game. The Trade Federation's embargo against the Empire of The Lost had been devasting to their expansion. N&Z, despite their Imperial leadership, remained an important partner for several factions. If they were to play favorites, it could turn the tides of entire wars.

new developments that'll rival anything coming out of the Core. We seek to make the galaxy salivate at a potential so often leveraged for war with no regard for their people.

This was an exciting prospect. An economic knife in the side of the Alliance. Something Harko looked forward to twisting. As well as a bulwark against encroachment. Leverage. Knowing that was the ultimate goal, he conceded to commit to whatever momentary action could lead to its success. The mission could very well be a personal power play by Xazzex against her rival interests but Harko didn't care.

Political power hinged heavily on proximity and right now he was speaking with the vice-head of state. He'd been given an opportunity to skip a great many rungs on the Confederate ladder and he wouldn't turn it down. If she intended on burning him after the job was done, then he would cross that bridge when the time came.

Xazzex passed him a datapad. He accepted, placing it on the table in front of him and using a cloth napkin to shield the screen from any wandering eyes.

Minimizing the rippling effects is as important as excising the threat.

Harko scanned through the dossier. He understood completely. As someone who had organized revolutionary groups, he’d often had to be equally vicious in trimming the herd. Troublemakers, thieves, detractors, and worst of all, enemy informants.

He nodded. Not every problem required a blaster bolt to the back of the head. In fact, minor institutions were some of the easiest groups to disrupt. Something as simple as knocking out their communications for twelve standard hours could create an internal catastrophe. Looking at the target, Harko knew it would take a little more than that.

“To do this I’m going to need some time to plan, to organize, to avoid 'rippling effects.' A week, at least,” Harko spoke cooly, passing the datapad back to Xazzex. “Is there anyone close to them that we can trust or turn?”

​

 

[Xazzex Xivar]

Things were rarely as simple as the holonovels. Xazzex inclined her head slightly as Harko requested a week to plan. That was not such a terrible time frame, and she rather he get it right the first time than require even more resources to clean up a mess. She calmly retrieved the datapad and then set it face down atop the table.

"Trust, no. Use." Turn coats were useful, but not instruments she trusted wouldn't break halfway through a job. Harko? He was hardly a turn coat from the Alliance. He was a free agent with skills in need of employment; a matter Xazzex could facilitate. "They can get you inside, but not much else. Their familiarity with the environment may prove useful. Understanding of timing and capabilities of internal security. But unless you can charm them into committing open criminal activity, doubtful they'll have any high level clearance or open tightly sealed doors."

Their enemies did not possess overwhelming power (else they'd strike openly), but they were not gross fools. Those of any real access were difficult to sway into acting against their current employer. Without something to destabilize the company, why risk moving to a hostile competitor when their current station was stable and lucrative enough? Those lower in influence and wealth could benefit more readily from monetary exchanges, but they lacked a great deal of access. Any chink in the armor was better than none.

Zesh Harko​

 

[Zesh Harko]

HARKO
LOCATION: ROTHANA | Confederacy Capitol
TAGS: Xazzex Xivar
GEAR: Borrowed clothes, no weapons
LISTENING: chopin​

"Trust, no. Use."

Trust. Hard to win and harder still to keep. Harko understood what she meant but he couldn’t shake a suspicion that Xazzex might be doing the same to him. She was certainly capable of it. Either way, he would need to double-down on the second word. Use. As long as he was useful, it would be worth their time to keep him around.

“Understood. A foot in the door. I can work with that. As long as that same foot doesn’t try to trip me once I’m in. Leave that part to me,” Harko assured, idly turning his water glass with his thumb and index. His mind was already racing. He could feel his blood pressure rising. A familiar old sensation; one he hadn’t felt in years. The thrill of the hunt. Harko sipped and willed himself to calm down. There would be time for planning later; he returned his focus to the present moment.

“I have one final question, Madam Speaker. I told you what I’m here to find. What do you get out of all this? Not the Confederacy, I mean, you. All of this hard work, the risks; is this about your homeworld? Yourself? Family? Or something more?”


​

 

[Xazzex Xivar]

Xazzex expected the man could handle it even if that foot did try to trip him. All the more reason not to worry about the contact being 'trusted' or not. Once their use was expended, Harko was free to do as he saw fit. In fact, he was free to ignore the contact entirely if the man found a better option. She hoped he fully appreciated the level of autonomy she, and the Confederacy, was prepared to give him... if he was worthy of it. They could use someone to manage less public affairs.

The Falleen's lips twisted a bit as her golden eyes regarded the man across from her. What a strange question. Still trying to determine the quality of those he might work for was it? Weigh whether he'd made the right choice? Dark lips settled, she lowered her chin, and a golden gaze stared out from beneath the prominent ridges of her heritage. "I will do whatever it takes to keep Falleen a free, prosperous world, Harko. No matter how many other governments bleat about their problems, or what I must do to keep this Confederacy stable, if it ensures their future everything is worth the price. That is my responsibility."

Of course, a prosperous Falleen meant that Xazzex herself was prosperous. Self desires aside, her pride as a member of her species and its lead demanded nothing less. She'd pay any bribe and slit any throat it took to ensure Falleen's future. It was a risk to tell him as much -- it could be used against her -- but then saying as much was as good as a threat too; anyone that sought to harm Falleen would answer for it.

"Does this bother you?" Xazzex was ultimately a very self-centered person. It didn't matter what people said or thought of her, so long as they didn't stand in her way. But she was also a patriot. Harko was a man of principle; perhaps able to accept the latter, but would he chaffe under the former?

Zesh Harko​