“There isn’t anything there.” A quiver of a worried voice carried up from beneath the hole in the floor where Dran Gliffyph, a older male Snivvian was hunched over with a concerned look on his face at the ever quietening echo of the words. His hand would extend and take hold of a beaten and well worn wooden box that had appeared from the darkness followed by the supporting hands of another younger of his species. “I thought there was meant to be more then one box?”
“There was, but…” Dran who had for many years operated within the higher circles of the planets military before retiring several years ago ducked down and helped the other to slide out of the hole, each keeping their voices low and actions quiet to assure not being detected by the Imperial presence that was just on the other side of the wall. Dran, like many on planet hadn’t taken kindly to the governments open hand gesture to allow the Empire’s controlling sphere to extend out over Cadomai “Come now Gjar, help me close this back off.”
The pair struggled with the large grey stone floor tile, but with a small bit of grunting and as little noise as possible managed to pull it over the hole and release it to sit flush against the flooring. “Exactly as we found it.” Dran muttered and brushed his hands against his thighs to removed the fine black grit that had smudged on them, he was getting too old for this.
“How are we going to deal with them if we only have one box?” Gjar, who was thirty or so years Dran’s junior had taken the moment to pick up the wooden crate carefully, his younger build easing the work that Dran was hoping he would never have to do. “I could do a call out, see if…”
“No Gjar,” Dran interrupted with a scowl, “this is our burden alone. The others have their own problems with this Imperial occupation.” He sighed a deep exhale of air and with a slight limp on his left leg moved towards the lone metal door that sat on the far side of the room with an orange glow light illuminating the control pad. He was about to press the button but paused instead turning towards his younger companion. “Remember that while we get judged for the path we are taking it is all for the greater good. A small sacrifice to allow for an easier life for your children. We will just have to make do with what we have.”
“No, I…” Gjar avoided his seniors stare, instead looking at the crate his arms with contempt. “I understand. For the greater good.”
“Good boy.” Dran smiled and pressed the switch to open the door before heading through.
“Good news. We had another box down in the cellar.” The Snivvian’s announcement was met by a raucous cheer from thirty or so men who were currently sat haphazardly around the cantina, each were engaged in their own conversations, games and other activities of soldier’s on their downtime. Gjar cracked the case and put his hand within, giving Dran a quick and apprehensive look as if asking for the go-ahead, some form of permission that would yet again assure him that what he was doing was in the best interest of the planet’s people. So a nod was given, a small gesture but one that would hopefully allow the Snivvian to continue at ease with his own conscience. I one motion Gjar would lean down and come to his full height, placing bottles of some amber liquid on the bar where they were quickly snatched up by the men within it. After emptying the crate it was slid into a corner, where a substantial pile had already been established.
Dran’s hand came to rest on Gjar’s shoulder, a smile on the old Snivvian’s face. “I know you want to fight it, to be one of those heroic patriots who never backed down.” He said it with a fatherly tone, which was suitable seeing as the larger and younger rebel want to be was indeed his son. “I assure you this is better then a lifetime of war. I’m not happy with the government’s decision to just roll on our backs and allow the Empire to claim us as their own, but the life of a subject in this day and age is far more comfortable then stepping on the toes of the Sith Empire.”
His son nodded. It was a slow and accepting agreement of the situation. “I know, at least with open arms we can continue onwards.” He gave his father a pat on the back and turned his attention to the group of men and women filling up their small cantina. “Who are these people anyway. They don’t bare the Imperial seal?”
Dran’s face went stern. “They aren’t of the Empire.” He gave a glance across the group. “The have the sigil of the golden sun. Thyrisian mercenaries.”
“Mercenaries? That explains their need for excessive amounts of our stock.” Clearly the younger of the family hadn’t heard of the the company, or his words would have been less is jest. “So why here, why now?”
“The Empire uses the Golden Company as a shock troop. They get sent into the hardest of territory to soften it up before the Imperial military come into claim it with ease. They seem like a jolly bunch, but I’ve heard stories of their battlefield victories. I’m just happy we are serving them willingly.”
“We should probably tell them we’ve ran out though? Before it gets too far ahead.” Gjar made the point and looked around the room. “Do you know who is in charge.”
“Yes.” Dran’s eyes were set through the crowd. Lingering upon one who stood out from the dark skinned Thyrsian mass, he was sat upon one of the lounges with his form cast as casual as possible, feet were upon the table and a half empty tankard in his hand. Around his were a handful of local girls, varying species who had all come down to see the rumours of the warrior in the flesh. The man gave a laugh at some joke that had been made by a nearby member of his group, even in his joyful mood it gave Dran the shivers. “They call him Novax. The Speaker of the Sun. Even though he was not born of Thyrisian blood he has somehow managed to establish himself in some power throughout the group.”
“He seems nice enough.” Gjar smirked.
“He’s a monster, but hopefully as I have heard…A just one as well.” Dran began to head out into the crowd. “I shall tell him of our worry. Relax, I will be fine.”
:cough:: )
