Sacrifice Theory

[Miria Lasedri]

There were certain things Miria had never quite grasped the meaning of, many of them leading back to her mother's motivations for doing things. To many the woman was a puzzle, and that included those that knew her well, or perceived themselves to. One could only imagine how she, the adopted daughter of the aforementioned Prime Minister, felt about things. Being of the quietly observant sort she was always famously patient when it came to all of Geneviève's doings, even if they seemed entirely pointless to her. There was always a method to her supposed madness, even if it was difficult for most anyone to determine. Thankfully she tended to be just as much of a mystery as her adopted mother, so it wasn't too challenging.

However, exceptions abounded to every rule, and this scenario was no different. Gen had arranged to hire a bodyguard for her, something she had admittedly expected. Oftentimes she took to wandering the streets of whatever planet she found herself on, doing nothing more than exploring every nook and cranny, even if that did involve certain illegal activities such as trespassing if curiosity overtook her completely. But no one could really blame her. After all, she was a teenager, still growing into herself. If she wasn't going to find out for herself just what the greater galaxy was like, then no one would. It was better that she continue on with those activities uninhibited. Her mother was a believer of learning things the hard way, but apparently that sentiment didn't extend to her daughter.

A shame, in her eyes.

Of course, she hadn't simply nodded and moved on once this piece of information had been discovered. That just wasn't her way. Being as inquisitive and resolved as she was, she did her own research and looking into things. Armed with nothing more than this man's name and a computer terminal, she went on her way, finding much more than she had originally anticipated in some areas, but far less in others. In some sense of the term he was a public face, owning and supposedly managing his own company. That phrase could have been applied more accurately, had he been possessed of traditional human or near-human features in the first place. Instead he was a Gen'Dai, seemingly confined entirely to a suit of armor, not that it bothered her any. Given her silence, she may well have been faceless, too.

When the prescribed meeting day arrived she was as familiar with the man as she was bound to get without actually speaking to him. Which was ironic in its own way, considering that her preferred method of communication amounted to nothing more than sign language. She never had managed to discover whether he was able to interpret such a thing or not. But it was no matter. Near-silently she ghosted through the halls of one of many political buildings about the Republic's capital, bound for the specified conference room that stood empty of any senators or government officials just for this purpose. Clad in a light sundress with similarly hued shoes, tail swaying gently behind her, she was the picture of innocence. And in some cases, she lived up to that sentiment. But one had only to remember who her mother was.

[member="Xalus"]

 

[Xalus]

Senate Building, Onderon

This world, as of late, had been unkind to beings such as Xalus. Beings that fought, bled, and killed for the very thing that sustained everything in the galaxy, money. The wartime accords, various defense laws and the amped up security of the Republic defense force had seen the likes of him withdrawn from their space and areas of operations. Time and time again had he tried to lend his aid, to send his entire contingent into the fray if they would only pay him a sum of credits and be on their way.

There was always a catch, and they knew what it was. Gen'Dai didn't need food, water, or anything really to survive. They just did - and many political officials, defense correspondents, and security personnel wondered why such a being would require credits at all.

In short, it was all about power. Collecting it, growing, and nurturing that beautiful thing until it blossomed, ripe with victory and the lavish promises of a successful life. That was how he had grown up, to become self-reliant and tear apart this galaxy with his own two hands until he got what he wanted. Then he caught on to the business of doing things other beings wanted, all for a little price of their own financial power and social clout. When governments and corporations had to rely on others rather than themselves, all it did was serve to fuel the slumbering giant that was Xalus.

"Master, who summoned us here today? The Prime Minister perhaps?" Threedee quipped. "If that's the case, won't relations with the Jedi Order become a little terse, since they're hiring mercenaries?"

The armored nerve cluster sent a glare his way. "I am no mercenary."

Threedee revealed no emotion, merely a stoic apology for his lack of tact.

"It's the daughter of the Prime Minister, actually. She found our HoloNet storefront, messaged, and requested my personal appearance here on Onderon."

"Interesting."

The security here in the senate building was baffling, especially to someone who'd worked in the business for dozens of centuries. Security cameras, armed and experienced guards, and a wealth of countermeasures ranging from nearby military installations to the Jedi Academy. Xalus brought a gauntlet upwards to readjust the Taozin amulet hung around his neck. Jedi, Sith, they were all the same.

Senate Commandos relieved Xalus of much of his weaponry. The handgun, the components of his gauntlets, and a few of those microdarts slipped into his kneeplates. They were thorough, but not that thorough. His Crushgaunts still covered his fingers, and Threedee had been modified with repulse hands. The Gen'Dai didn't expect anything to go down today, especially not when such a strange and unique official had requested his presence.

Xalus and Threedee were then summarily escorted to the small office where their contact was waiting.

He didn't wait to knock, or allow the escort a chance to announce their arrival, and simply strode in with his bot in tow.

[member="Miria Lasedri"]

 

[Miria Lasedri]

Some found it eerie how much Miria truly resembled the Prime Minister, even if many similarities went no further than a particular manner or method of carrying themselves. When the towering Gen'Dai entered the room with a droid in tow he was regarded with much of the same casual air as she would offer an individual more apt to her age, though her demeanor immediately suggested there was something different about her. There was an intelligence lurking behind those silver eyes that was misleading, giving her the impression of being decades older than her physical form would suggest. However, unlike him, she didn't belong to a species with a prolonged lifespan. No, she had simply witnessed much in fourteen years.

Without a word she motioned for him to sit as near her as he wished, drinking in everything about his appearance and gleaning from it all that she could. There was much to learn in the way an individual carried themselves, from notes about something as obvious as their physical condition to things as seemingly unknowable as their personality and methodology of completing tasks. From just this few seconds she determined rather easily that he was one used to getting his way but not in the traditional sense, being more than willing to put effort forth into what he deemed worthwhile. There was a predatory grace about for all of his size, misleading just as much as she was capable of being.

That he'd brought a droid along was a fact that didn't go unnoticed, but she wasn't overly concerned about it either. All that meant to her was that perhaps her signing would be interpreted after all, even if it wasn't through the traditional method. An understanding there would no doubt be reached quickly, though whether he would assume her deaf or simply shy was still undetermined. It was that underestimation she had learned to count on. Because, no matter what others assumed about her, she always heard more than intended with a clarity that had the potential to truly get her in very deep trouble. Perhaps her voluntary silence wasn't a bad thing, then, if it served as its own safety mechanism.

Pale hands moved fluidly through the air, crafting words and sentences in those motions if one was adept enough to translate. 'I would like you to know that I am perfectly capable of speaking. I just choose not to. I also assume that your droid is capable of interpreting all that I'm saying.' Her words were carefully chosen in a way most wouldn't expect of one her age. If only she deigned to actually speak them aloud, instead of whispering them silently into thin air, leaving them as fleeting as the moment they were brought forth in the first place. 'As you already know, my name is Miria, and I am the Prime Minister's daughter. She was the one that hired you, not me.' A beat passed. 'But she isn't aware of our meeting here.'

It was that she left him with, allowing time for his companion to summarily bring her words into the more audible realm. Often she got into the habit of moving too quickly, not giving others ample time to catch up. 'If my mother were here she would probably ask you why you think you're capable of accompanying me, but that isn't my only interest. No doubt we'll both be seeing more of each other in the future, regardless. In her eyes this is probably nothing more than a formality. Which is why I'm here alone.' Probably not the wisest choice, given her general inexperience when it came to much of the dangers of the larger galaxy, but she was capable in a different way. 'I'd like to know more about you. And in return, I offer the same.'

[member="Xalus"]

 

[Xalus]

Formalities were withheld in those initial moments. The lithe, pale-skinned, and tiny little excuse for a sentient being merely offered him a seat with a slight gesture. Xalus heeded her offer and moved to slip into one of the undersized chairs before her desk console, Threedee trailing to loom behind the suit of armor crushing one of her plush seats. From behind enhanced visual optics, the Gen'Dai observed the little woman for a few seconds, speculating as to what she wanted him for.

A tea party maybe, or probably something along those lines. She looked old enough to still be in school and looked like a native of Rhen Var rather than being the adopted daughter of the Prime Minister.

The mercenary opened his mouth to speak when he was cut off with a practiced flourish of thin fingers. The girl began to twist, bend, and crook her fingers and wrists in such ways that it seemed as if she was painting art in the air rather than writing out letter in some mystical and incoherent way. While it was seemingly flabbergasting to Xalus, Threedee was instantly processing the movements the very second she waved her hand. He translated quickly, and he would be able to no matter how fast or sloppily little Lasedri chose to do it.

"I see," he started. "You speak with calm and collected words, unlike many beings older and more mature than yourself." There was something a little... peculiar about her and it was impossible for him to put a finger on it. "Tell me why you and your mother summoned me here."

 

[Miria Lasedri]

Grey, brown and green. Those were the first thoughts to form in her mind after the man had spoken his piece. It was commonplace for her to associate an individual with a color or colors that denoted their apparent personality. It made them easier to read and even simpler to recall later. Such a practice was regarded as impractical or entirely useless to most, but it was an apt method of truly learning how another functioned if one was patient and careful enough to devote their time to it. Something told her the giant that spoke with a tact not typically reserved for one of his profession would be an individual who learned to appreciate its uses. Time would only tell if the two would remain in each other's company long enough for him to learn.

An amused smile as slight as her appearance found her lips at what she viewed as a rather ironic statement. "It seems rather fitting that you say that, considering I rarely truly speak at all." Her voice was quiet and vaguely melodic to the ears, as fleeting as snowflakes melting in the air before they hit the ground, each word carefully enunciated but reminiscent of nothing more than a tickling whisper that raised the hairs on the back of one's neck. That was likely the only time she would deign to speak aloud throughout the entire affair, but it was a display of trust all the same. The only other individual that had been privy to hear her voice was her adopted mother, and even those moments were rare.

As if nothing had changed at all she was back to signing, seeming to view it as a more effective means of getting her point across. At least this way nothing she said could be misinterpreted. There was no reading between the lines when there were no lines to read between. 'I would imagine the reasoning for my mother summoning you is rather obvious. I'm the daughter of a Prime Minister who has a bounty on her head that is over ten million credits.' It was funny how one so silent could still so adeptly deadpan her words. 'Sometimes I wander the streets when there isn't anything better to do. It's been a habit of mine since my time spent in the orphanage on Chandrila. That is likely her primary motivation.' Nothing less would surprise her.

'My own reasons are nothing more than curiosity. I figured that if she was going to have someone protect me then I at least deserved to speak to them first and learn more about who they are. It seems rather justified, in my mind. I might just be a child to most, but as you said, I don't quite resemble the others nearer my age.' Perhaps that was due to too much time spent among and around politicians, or even Gen herself. Enough time spent listening was bound to expand anyone's vocabulary, especially one who so rarely repeated any of it aloud, instead storing away those words for later use, her mind resembling a dictionary itself. But, just like her capabilities of speech, this intelligence was carefully guarded.

The next words signed were slower in their formation, taking on a genuinely inquisitive edge, 'Does that answer your question?'

[member="Xalus"]

 

[Xalus]

He was as guarded about his words as she was - and probably even more so. On missions, assignments, or whatever task a client deemed important, Xalus hardly uttered words beyond simple acknowledgements. There was no time to waste, no point in wasting his effort in speaking when actions spoke louder than a mere voice. Yet, this young girl struck him as rather odd, something a little comforting. He'd half expected the daughter of a Prime Minister to possess much more arrogance, exude a haughty aura, and otherwise affiliate herself with Senate Guards rather than contractors.

The Gen'Dai simply sat there before her, soaking up each soft word she uttered. Sometimes she swapped to elegantly flailing her hands about and Threedee instantly hopped in to translate while other times her own voice sufficed for the time being. Xalus assumed it was a display of trust.

"That does answer my question."

But he had one more.

"Why me?"

[member="Miria Lasedri"]

 

[Miria Lasedri]

Why, indeed. Just as his previous question this one had no proper answer besides that of the obvious sort, but Miria surmised he was looking for one that went beyond his apparent skill level and reputation, and it was that she could supply. There would be no speaking for her mother, of course, because most times no one knew the precise reasons the Prime Minister had for going about things, sometimes not even the woman herself. A more personal touch would be added to her response, though not so much so that he would feel alienated. Speaking was an art she had honed carefully, even if her words were rarely verbal. Her explanation would begin with only three signed words, 'I don't know.'

It was something he likely hadn't been expecting, but she would give honesty in all forms if she perceived what was said to her to be of the same quality. Neither of them had any real reason to be less than truthful as it was. 'I can't tell you why my mother chose you out of the no doubt thousands of others in the known galaxy.' Her head tilted slightly to one side, a purely innocent gesture for one who possessed such an ancient sense of simple knowing. 'However, I can tell you why I went along with her proposal.' Silence hung in the air as she collected her thoughts into some semblance of order. 'You remind me of myself. Not exactly so by any means, but you do.' An unfair comparison to most given the infinite ways in which they were unquestionably different, but there was something lingering beneath the surface if one was willing to look deep enough.

'I think you would agree that we're both outcasts in our respective circles. Whatever norm is expected of us we refuse to abide by. We're our own people.' Of course, it took a certain kind of person to belong to both of their niches in the first place. But that was only one facet of a much larger picture that she wouldn't touch on completely. ​'The both of us hold our own peculiarities that oftentimes aren't accepted by the larger galaxy as a whole, but that changes nothing about us or our lives. We're both different, and we don't mind that.' It might not have made the most sense to someone who didn't think like her, but it was an explanation all the same, and it sufficed to respond to his question.

'Would you rather speak with her before making any final decisions?'

[member="Xalus"]