Prospecting for prospects.

[Akatan Adasca]

​

New Arkanian Legacy

ADASCORP meeting facily


Everything that is good in Arkanian culture is right here. Akatan smiled at the thought of such words, echoing across the landscape of a righteous heritage. Adasca, a name that spoke of the eons of Arkanian ingenuity and foresight. Whenever there was a chance for cultural prosperity, at the hands of science, the Adasca noble family lead the charge as vanguard for the benefit of it's people. Well, for that and the credits. Credits went a long way.

A large desk, metallic and laced with the etchings of the family creed and diamonds from the mines, Akatan sat quietly, equipped with a concerned expression. Reading over the mail, he picked over the words with a fine tooth comb. An offer for cloning, purpose unknown. Or perhaps known but not forth coming. In the recesses of his mind, he heard the echoes of the concert hall and loud showing from the night before. His ear drums still hurt, the sound systems were malfunctioning and needed repair. Not to mention the showing revealed a dearth of talent. If someone could have negative talent, those performers claimed such an anomaly. Utterly dreadful.

Shaking his head as he palpated his ear, he picked up the glass of Arkanian red, careful to touch as little of the glass as possible. After all, the help fondled the crystalline with their grubby little fingers. Grease and the like. But the wine, it was quite exquisite. Placing his nose against the opening, he smelled before sipping.

"Sir, you have a visitor. Regards to a future contract?"
"Oh?" He said with an ounce of coy. "Do you feel that was worth interrupting my sampling?" He gestured towards his wine, blinking.
"Uhh..."
"Is that your answer? Uhh?" He inhaled, agitated. "Take the day off. Matter of fact. Take the week off. Think about how you acted here." The man didn't respond, just chewed on the punishment. Akatan waved him on. "You may leave now. Thank you! And let my visitor in on your way out."

[member="Zola"]​

 

[Zola]

Zola, Dark Jedi Knight of the Obsidian Order, had come into a fair credits recently. She really had banker Eeth Forte to thank for her small fortune, after all, he had come up with a nice portfolio of possibly risky but extremely lucrative investments, and those investments were now paying off. There was something a bit disconcerting about the Zabrak banker, especially the fact that so many people close to the man had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. That and he tried to shove a Nexu kitten into an ATM machine once. He was an odd man, but very good with making money, so whatever weird things he did in his private time were of no concern to the elementalist.

The Hapan Knight decided to reinvest her credits in resources for the Techno Union’s Obsidian Order in the form of clones. After all, why recruit what you could make? The expert in cultic studies had done extensive research on ways to make followers loyal to the cause, all she needed were the bodies. That is where Mister Adasca came in.

Dressed in a sleek black suit, with her pin-straight brown hair in a severe side part, Zola stood aboard [member="Akatan Adasca"]'s massive vessel waiting to be seen by the man. She didn’t know much about him other than the man used to be a senator in the Galactic Republic. Hopefully he wasn’t one of those who had voted yes on their abominable Black Flag order. Although you wouldn't know it by looking at the petite Hapan, Zola was a former Sith, and she’d hate to do business with someone so narrow-minded. Sadly intolerance and the Republic did go hand-in-hand after all.

 

[Akatan Adasca]

He narrowed his eyes as the woman entered his extravagant office, clad in mahogany toned wood and polished marble flooring. Violet eyes fixed on her, the effects of color enhancing contacts her wore for business dealings. He found people often had difficulty making eye contact with such difficult to discern pupils, a slightly paler shade of purple. Not that he cared what anyone thought, but what's good for business is good for business. Opinions be damned. Purple was the color of royalty, inflamed purple even more so. With the natural tundra type environment of Arkania, trees rated for lumber use were hard to come by, only accessible through imports. Which were heavily taxed. Xenophobia ran it's course in every portion of the culture. The whole office was an expression of his tastes and his willingness to spend to sate such tastes.

Standing from his seat, his squint was offered with the faintest smile. Not much more than that, he wasn't sure she was worth the full expression. But she was pretty enough. Not Arkania, too bad. He gestured towards the seat in front of his enamored desk. "Ms. Kyrgen, please have a seat." He stated plainly, pressing his hands together as he walked towards a crystalline globe. Opening it, a pinch decanter with golden beveling and grip stood half way full with a dark red wine. "I assume you just arrived? Can I interest you in a drink?"

Wining and dining. What it took for a deal, he'd stoop to it. His finger traced against the stem of a goblet as he turned, looking back towards her and waiting for a response. He wore a tunic of green cloth, embroidered on the cuffs with gold. Collar lined with leather, presumably from inner hid of an arkanian dragon, his near platinum hair was tied up neatly and hung against the top of his shoulders. He was equipped with a suitable tan, but not too much so. The lower class were the burned ones, he remained comfortably suited but still inherently elevated.

[member="Zola"]​

 

[Zola]

For this meeting with Mister Adasca, Zola used her former name, a pedestrian one, but one that would not be associated with her use of the dark side on places like Wayland and Geonosis. In business, it was a smart to distance yourself from your dirty work, or so she'd learned from her former Master [member="Darth Adekos"]. What was ol' Adekos up to anyway, she wondered. It seemed like ages since he'd threatened to incinerate her dress in the furnace of his Star Destroyer when she was a lowly apprentice. Ah, you never knew the true value of a moment until it became a memory.

She strode into the chamber, giving Mister Adasca a thorough eyeing. Like most Arkanians of noble blood, he had flaxen hair, but his eyes were an unusual purple color. She found herself drawn to them. Something interesting burned behind those violet irises, but what? Ambition? Arrogance? The rest of him seemed a bit...stuffy. Pity, as she was hoping he would be the type of politician that liked to bang his secretary while doing spice off her thighs. Either way, perhaps it would be best not to break out the brain jagger at this meeting. At his behest, she took a seat, crossing her legs demurely.

"Yes, the trip from the Citadel was uneventful, thankfully," she said locking eyes on him. "And I would love a drink, Mister Adasca,"

Smoothing the satin labels on her jacket, she took a perfunctory glance around the ship.

"Gorgeous vessel you have here. Is this a legacy ship?"

[member="Akatan Adasca"]

 

[Akatan Adasca]

"Mmm, yes." He pulled the glass cork from the decanter. With a clean napkin, he wiped the mouth before placing it against the pinch. As the fluid flowed into the glass, slowly, he rotated the decanter."Ancestry in technology. It's under renovations but the schematics are from the original ship. Prior to the Gulag Plague." He smiled as he placed the cork back in and lifted the glass, closing the chamber. Walking over to her, he held it out for her to take. "It's a marriage between efficacy and art. I appreciate your receptive eye." He said with another squint, the ring upon his right ring finger bearing the symbol of his family crest, pressed in gold.

"That's what cloning is. The threshold between art and science." He said as he turned, finding his seat and pulling up her correspondence. "So you provided no purpose towards the cloning procedures...or really much in the way of the details needed for the process." He spoke somewhat critically. Good breeding defined in every mannerism.

Taking his own glass in hand, he lifted it to his nose and smelled before drinking. He rolled it around in his mouth, touching each note, before placing it back down on his desk. Leaning back, he pressed his hands against the arms of the chair and studied the woman. "So tell me, Ms. Kyrgen. What is it that you desire of me and nearly as importantly, Adascorp? I'm very interested in the proposition you provided but I'm profoundly overwhelmed with the mysteries associated with it." He leaned forward. "Of course, if you prefer I not know. That is fine as well, but I wont be able to fine tune your request."

[member="Zola"]​

 

[Zola]

Zola might have the kind of Hapan genes that gave her big brown eyes and luscious hair, but as she was adopted, she had no idea if her blood was blue. She was a chameleon when she needed to be, sometimes giving the air of a patrician, other times, blending in with a planet's criminal element. Zola had even spent time living in a hut with a Primeval Warlord who made her dance over hot iron bars until she learned how to take the heat from her blistered feet. She was a versatile woman, and for Mister Adasca she chose to match his haughtiness. Would it give her the upper hand? Probably not, but it could nullify that arrogance she sensed in the silver-haired man's aura.

"Thank you," she said, subtly brushing Akatan's long, thin fingers as she took the glass. First smelling the aroma of the wine, she swirled it in her glass and inspected the color range. Zola lifted the glass to her lips, then took a slow sip. She instantly made a face, implying that whatever rare and expensive liquid he served her was simply not good enough. She deposited the glass down, gingerly, as if it held vomit.

"I plan on telling you everything Mister Adasca," she said. "I'm a total layman when it comes to cloning technologies. I'll need your expertise every step of the way for this proposition."

She straighted out her satin suit lapels again, and uncrossed and crossed her legs, a nervous habit.

"I have plans on making a private military group for the Techno Union."

In other words, an army.

[member="Akatan Adasca"]

 

[Akatan Adasca]

He smiled at her expression to the drink, an earnest gesture. That decanter was the swill, the sort he wouldn't touch. "Apologies..." He stated as he stood up, grabbing her drink and tossing the entire glass into the trash can. "Normally my clients don't have as refined taste as me." He eyed her and walked over to wooden cupboard. Sliding the doors open, he pulled a pill from metal cup and crunched on it, pulling a far nicer bottle out with another glass. Following the same procedure, he filled the cup and set it down in front of her. "No more games then. If you don't like that, I'll just assume you don't like wine." He said with a smirk, pausing in investigation of her. For another moment. "Hmm." Pleased, feeling the stimulant push through his blood quickly, he found his seat once more.

"A cloned private military group?" He pushed a hand down the front of his tunic and exhaled. "Truth be told, Adascorp hasn't made many ventures into this field. Largely attuned more towards medical needs. Helps with deregulation if we can provide a more ubiquitous purpose." He spoke with some gesticulation. It was the truth, the Republic was far less likely to increase taxes if they knew that the cloning went towards more pacifist type circumstances. "But that's not to say it's outside the scope of our abilities. Quite the contrary actually." He opened the desk and pulled out a notebook. An anachronism, but he enjoyed doodling while discussing matters such as this. "I assume you have an original DNA set that you would like used for the template?"

[member="Zola"]​

 

[Zola]

When Akatan threw away the wine, glass and all, Zola knew that she was dealing with a person whose behavior was whimsical and erratic. She liked it. Zola spent her formative years with a Master who made her trade in her sumptuous clothing for a dull grey jumpsuit that she wore for his own amusement. She could handle a sassy Arkarnian. At his obvious slights, the Hapan simply shrugged, studying the young businessman as he moved to his liquor cabinet to pour her something else. His reach for the pill did not escape her. So Mister Adasca liked his substances after all. Good to know. She had no intention of backstabbing Akatan, but it was nice to know what she was dealing with just in case the business somehow went sour.

She took the cup and gave him a smile, biting her lip. "I'm sure this is suitable," she said, placing the glass to the side without sipping. Those purple irises. They were quite something.

"If it helps, we can call it a security team," she offered. "As for the DNA, well, that's what I need your help with. I have a general idea of the traits that I'd like these soldiers to have, for example, resistance to mind tricks, but other than that..." She paused and shook her head, tucking a rogue strand of dirty-blonde hair behind her ear. "...Let's say I'm open to recommendations, Atakan."

Were they on a first-name basis? The Hapan darksider hoped so.

[member="Akatan Adasca"]

 

[Akatan Adasca]

"Security team..." He said with a smile, appreciating the political connotations of it. Kept the realm of Adascorp outside the fray. "Very good." He looked down at the notepad, idle hand beginning the scribbling of an Arkanian dragon. Large, scaling and thin, coiling about itself. Leaning over, he looked at it before clicking the end of the pen, biting the edge. Twirling the pen between his fingers, he leaned forward and steepled his fingers together. Pushing the screen of his computer to side, on a metal swivel, he exhaled. She called him Akatan, how forward of her. But he didn't mind, it had a nice ring to it.

"We start with what's called a Prime clone. That will effectively be the template from which all modifications branch." He looked at the woman, violet eyes caught on her edges. Smooth, contoured, he blinked. "Speed of growth, mental modifications, physical changes. All things that can be modified to fit your needs and timetable. Of course, the speed will dictate how they learn. Flash learning or imprints of the prime clone. So...I would suggest a prime clone with 'security experience.'" He squinted, dragging a finger across his thin lips. "Resistance to mind tricks. Clones often have an issue with that. Especially when developed in Spaarti containers." He said with a bit of an air of arrogance. "Of course, Adascorp doesn't use Spaarti containers. We leave that for the dregs." Spaarti clones. He nearly spit. Might as well ask an artist to paint without a brush.

Leaning forward, he ripped a page from the notebook and balled the drawing up, throwing it into the garbage pale. Jotting down notes on a clean page, he tilted his head towards the woman. "So, the first thing we need is a suitable prime donor. Once we have that, someone seasoned and naturally inclined towards 'security,'" He said that again with a smile. "Then from there, we can assess what modifications need to be made. Finally and just as important, I'll need to know how quickly you need these clones. And if it's as soon as I think...we will need to discuss obtaining ysalamiri for an advanced cloning process." He stopped writing. "Of course, I have some. But I suspect not enough for your desires."

[member="Zola"]​

 

[Zola]

Zola intently watched the Arkanian finish the drawing of a serpentine creature. From what she could see, he was quite a skilled artist. Then the page was balled up and vaulted from his hand to the trash receptacle. Quirky fellow, this Akatan.

"I don't need the clones that quickly." she said, raising a haughty brow. "I'd rather we take our time, and have it done right." Was she insinuating his cloning would be sloppy? Maybe she was. She finaly took a drink. The wine was exquisite, almost ethereal tasting.

"I'll have to find the perfect donor then. Perhaps you could help me in my selection process?" Was she being too demanding a customer for Mister Adasca? "I'll pay extra for your consulting," she added, just to sweeten the pot.

"Atakan," she said, taking another long sip. The army was just a test project for his company, quite frankly. Zola had another more important project in mind for him if his company passed the test.

"Have you ever cloned anyone for the purposes of extending a person's life?"

[member="Akatan Adasca"]

 

[Akatan Adasca]

He stopped scratching on the notepad and smiled. "My dear..." He quipped. "When I make clones, it's always done right. Otherwise, what's the point?" He furrowed his brow as he ticked the end of the pen against his teeth. "But I understand your apprehension about timing. For the less qualified cloner, time is required to produce a true high quality clone."

He leaned back as she suggested him helping her make the selection. He wasn't a military man or trained in combat or strategy, but he was sure he was capable of it. If he cared enough to pursue it. But as much as wars and conflict produced money, it just didn't interest him. And then she dropped the bomb. Extending life. He had heard about it. No cloner worth his weight had gone through the market without hearing stories about wizards and the like. Using force powers to hop scotch from body to body. Like buying a new house. Akatan squinted as he leaned back in the chair, mulling over her numerous questions.

"Services of Adascorp, in all the facets of this operation, are available for a price. But my personal time..." He paused. "...the compensation would need to be substantial." He said with a charming smile, not entirely intent on divulging what that meant.

"I have heard of the process being used, urban legends passed through the cloning field of immortality." He chewed on his tongue, not entirely adverse to the idea of pursuing this. "I would be interested in understanding. I've never done it before. What do you know of it?" He wasn't happy about the idea of admitting ignorance in any manner. He needed to rectify the dearth.

[member="Zola"]​

 

[Zola]

Zola returned the Arkanian's smile, showing too-long canines beneath her full lips. A knowing look glimmered in her eyes.

"I'll make sure that your personal time is extremely well-compensated, Akatan."

What did she know about transfering essence? Her knowledge came mostly from scholarly articles and Holotexts. Zola had yet to learn the power, but she was working on that.

"I've been doing some research on Darth Sidious' previous work with clones, using them to transfer his essence from his own dying body to a new one. Unfortunately the dark side of the Force has such negative effects on the host bodies, that they age prematurely. This is where I'd need your expertise. To make a clone that could better survive the transfer, given the inherent difficulty of the power, as well as its unpredictable nature."

The cat was out of the bag so to speak. It was obvious that she was a dark sider. How did the former Republic senator feel about dark siders? She wasn't technically a Sith anymore, but Arkania was still under the jurisdiction of that pesky black flag order. Zola gave out a sharp laugh and held out her petite hands.

"Are you going to arrest me, Senator?" she said, her large brown eyes full of amusement. Zola knew that Mister Adasca was no longer a politician, but she couldn't resist teasing him for working in that bastion of hypocrisy called the Republic senate.

[member="Akatan Adasca"]

 

[Akatan Adasca]

He ran his finger on the brim of his wine glass, whispering a tone as it circled. "Maybe..." He said with a devilish grin. Tilting his head to his drink, he gave it another ritualistic drink before putting his focus back on her. "I'm not a Senator anymore, not that I ever approved of their regulations. I was there to keep them from things like the Black Flag and similar acts of tyranny. Small government, small or no interference in capital. Let people live their lives." He barred just the hint of his top teeth. "But I have retained the bad habits all the same."

Opening his eyes widely, he exhaled with a lift of his brown eyebrows, before looking back down at the notepad. He clicked the pen in, clicked it back out, and clicked it back in. "So you are a darksider?" He raised his eyebrow, ticking his tongue against his teeth. "Interesting." He shrugged and cracked his knuckles. "Money knows no color, no force alignment." He looked back up to her big brown eyes, his violet ones piqued for the moment. "So you want to extend your life? Why?"

Maybe it was obvious. But not to him. Arkanians were the pique of evolution, he would never do anything to conflict with that. And that includes pursuing an unnaturally long life time, beyond his own. Along with that, a clone of him wasn't him. It was merely a molested copy of it. He would never consider the path she implied. Why seek out the forgery when you can have the real deal?

[member="Zola"]​

 

[Zola]

"Well, Mister Adasca. It's too bad that you are no longer a senator then. The Republic could use more men and women who share your philosophy. Especially with that awful Prime Minister of theirs. The woman is a lunatic if you ask me."

Zola raised her glass high in the air. "Here's to live and let live."

Why did she want to extend her life? To cheat death was the biggest nose-thumbing could ever give the Maker, the greatest cosmic troll. But Zola had less whimsical reasons for pursuing immortality. The dark sider was a Hapan. Had she won the genetic lottery like the Morellians, perhaps she wouldn't have to extend her life, but like baseline Human stock, her life expectancy was woefully short for the things the Dark Jedi wanted to accomplish.

"If you spend a lifetime building a legacy, I believe you owe it to that legacy to keep it running as long as possible, especially if your accomplishments center around your own unique designs. All of the best visionaries have all gone to great lengths to preserve their legacies. Rur, a Shaman of the Order of the Terrible Glare embedded his personality in his own mummified body and encased it in a pyramid of glass."

Finishing her wine in one last gulp, she smiled at Akatan and using the Force, floated the empty tumbler to his desk, signalling that she'd like a refill. Zola hoped her explanation sated his curiosity. She could, of course, bring up her zealous devotion to the Immortal God-King of Prakith, but now didn't seem like the time to unleash all of her crazy on the man. There would be plenty of time once the two were working together.

"Luckily, we have better technology these days."

[member="Akatan Adasca"]

 

[Akatan Adasca]

He raised his glass. They agreed on some things, maybe it wouldn't be as rare occurrence as he had originally assumed. Sometimes even his own discriminatory tendencies surprised him. Not that they were wrong, just not right, right now.

As her glass came over, he blinked steadily. He wasn't used to such blatant use of the force. He tilted his head, the sort of smile that formed in the corner of his lip that pulled his nose just a bit. Pushing out from his chair, he approached the cupboard and pulled the bottle from it. Filling her glass, he topped his off all the same. Putting the wine back, he straightened out his tunic and sat once more. He eyed the glass, then her, wondering if she'd move it again.

He had never thought about a legacy like that. He was a part of a natural heritage, legacy passed through family. To be immortal, to prolong life, that denigrated family. Not that he was always happy with his family members, a number of them far weaker than him. In fact, most were. But that still made them better than most. Maybe, in the future, he'd ply her legacy from her. Find what drives the gears. Not that he was interested, but it might make for good conversation. Not interested at all. He reassured himself. Not Arkanian.

"Technology is changing every day...Ms. Kyrgen." He looked down at the notebook. "So the Techno Union. I'd like dossiers on potential candidates for cloning. Life's teaching, military achievement, as well as DNA samples." He looked back up to her. "And if you are looking to do this...Spirit Transfer." He felt odd legitimizing magic. But he couldn't deny what he just saw. "I'll need your DNA as well."

[member="Zola"]​

 

[Zola]

"I will provide you with a range of candidates," Zola agreed, levitating the glass carefully back to her own hand. A grin spread across her face. It fell slightly when he asked for her DNA.

Behind her eyes was a small measure of worry. It suddenly seemed strange to have her own genetic instructions floating around, completely out of her hands. Did she trust Mister Adasca enough with such personal matter? A Force user's DNA was valuable on the black market. Of course, she and Akatan couldn't start the research on the essence transfer without it. Perhaps one of the Techno Union slicers could do a more thorough background check on the man. That and she could spend more time with the silver-haired businessman, and build more than a modicum trust with him. Akatan himself intrigued her and he was easy on the eyes. It wasn't the worst task in the galaxy.

"I can provide my DNA as well," she said, her smile returning.

"Do you like art, Mister Adasca?"

[member="Akatan Adasca"]

 

[Akatan Adasca]

"Good, very good." He said with a wry smile, scratching notes down on his notebook. Then the last question came. What an absurd question. Any man of prestige had to appreciate the arts. Music, paintings, performance, cloning. Everything was an art form when completed with the proper hand. He had even seen some dry wall spackle experts who neared artistic perfection. Of course, they were the dregs of the society and thus, could never be considered artists. But he appreciated the effort they made, however low their station in life might be.

"Why Ms. Kyrgen..." He placed his hands over his chin and thought. How much did he care to tell the woman. Kriff it. "I've had the New Arkanian Legacy built in the image of it's predecessor. Including a performance hall. I love art. Good art. And I love precious few things in the universe." Caught in the passion of his own feelings, he raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

[member="Zola"]​