The Fall (CIS)

[Salem Norongachi]

"And what do you make of the current governments stance on Druckenwell? If anything the actions of the now renegade Grand Marshal showed his guilt-"

"He's the second Grand Marshal to turn upon the administration."

"-Yes, and did anyone else notice that Calico Tal'Verda took his band of merry men to Omega Protectorate? You have to ask yourself, just how deep do the Protectorate have their claws in the Confederacy?"

Salem turned off the screen, silence descended upon the small room somewhere in the city of Roon. Three men were with him, three men that had no public presence in the CIS. They weren't known in any division nor were they even considered part of the current structure. They were, in essence, ghosts.

"In about twelve hours I'm going to be asked to step down," Norongachi spoke to the silent three. "They'll think its because I brought this war upon us. They'll think it will stop whats looming upon the horizon." The three men didn't comment, they didn't care about the whys. "After this happens, you know what to do?" One of them nodded. "Don't miss. As for you two, you have men in position?" They both gave indications that they did. "Excellent, well, that's all. I'll see you in Thirteen hours."

The three men left, as silent as they had come, and Norongachi found himself alone in the gloom of the low rent apartment. He reached for a comlink, specially designed to only be attuned to a singular highly encrypted frequency and to only transmit a single time.

"The Fall is a go, I repeat: The Fall, is a go."

 

[Salem Norongachi]

There was a nervousness about Norongachi, an anticipation that he very rarely felt. The dark doors of the council chambers loomed before him and he didn't falter in his steps toward what no one knew was coming. A guard outside opened one for him and he stepped across the threshold. The room, with its long table, was filled with bodies from Verds administration.

Even without the Force, Norongachi saw the tension on their faces, the anticipation of what they were about to do. The head of the table remained free, they had given him that much at least, he mused, and Salem took the seat before the farce began.

"Gentlemen," He said. "What is our first order of business?"

"Work upon our new shipyards has is going smoothly," The Liaison for the Techno Union began, his hands shuffling through documents and reports. "The upgrades to Hypori are nearing completion, while the shipyards at Excarga have be begun, they estimate that small corvettes and frigates will begin production by months end."
"Excellent," The Lord Commander spoke with a practiced smile. "Anything else we should be made aware of?"

"We have received report after report of growing dissidence among the populace of many of our member worlds, Druckenwell and the war have shook their faith in us."

"Do they have any demands?" Norongachi asked.

"Only one, the dissolution of the current government. They obviously blame us for Haoth's betrayal and before that Tal'Verda's...." The man, perhaps forty trailed off and the silence that filled the room was palpable. "Which begs the question," And so here it came. "Why didn't you see it Lord Commander?"

"Excuse me?" It wasn't very hard for Salem to appear angry, it was one of the few emotions he wore like an old hat.

"Why didn't you see what Serock planned to do? More to the point, why did you prioritize our military build up around Druckenwell?"

"I thought that was very plain, you all saw the intelligence reports..."

"Yes, we did, and in the face of what those reports said we followed your lead but we, here, cannot help but wonder if your sudden build up of military presence around Druckenwell, so close to our borders with the Omega Protectorate, were not the catalyst for the act of war?"

"You ordered the reformation of the fleets, you were in direct contact with Serock Hoath, you specifically appointed Kal Strife TO the position of admiral. One cannot help but see a glaring series of coincidences, that myself and my esteemed colleagues have begun to suspect were all in preparation for a war you WANTED to begin." If looks could kill, and if you were Salem Norongachi, they could, then the speaker would have fallen face first into the polished wooden desk.

"Kal Strife was as much a pawn in Druckenwell as you or I, we had no prior know-"

"That is beyond the point, Lord Commander. The people have lost faith in us, they suspect us of being warmongers and more than that, capable of sacrificing an entire planet to disallow our enemies its use."

"Cut to the chase." Salem's voice was cold, colder than the very vacuum that existed just beyond Bothawui's atmosphere.

"We have discussed this at length and while we appreciate what you have tried to do since Isley Verd left us, we cannot in good faith, allow you to lead the Confederacy any longer. I propose a vote of no confidence, all in favour?"

"Aye"

"Aye"

"Aye"

And so it went, until the table was unanimous, Salem Norongachi had to go. He stood, calmly and looked over them. "Despite what you think, despite what you feel, the Protectorate will not stop. This isn't a war about differences of opinion, nor one for territory or resources. This is one for revenge, pure and simple. I just hope that when all is said and done you have a building to hold your meetings in."

 

[Salem Norongachi]

How many times is this now? He found himself wondering as he stepped out of his office for the final time. How many times will you die for your designs? Is this the third? The forth? How long can you keep manipulating death to suit your own ends before the scythe actually finds you?

The answer was simple; As many times as was needed.

It had been two weeks since they had voted, in their cowardice, to remove him from office and now with all the loose ends tied up it was finally time to announce it to the press. The people were stirring, the mood across the Confederate worlds was one of outrage and mistrust, the work of Serock Hoath, of Isley Verd, of Calico Tal'Verda had shaken the very foundations upon which they had built their homes, started families and lived their lives. Their literal worlds were falling down around them and for too long they had been powerless. All that anger, all that frustration, all that unfocused rage only needed a spark to ignite it.

They were waiting, in front of the CIS Government building, there were even more this time than his Serock announcement. The buzz of holo-recorder droids filled his ears as he took to the stage. Beyond the gathering of Confederate space reporters and journalists, a barrier had been erected and pressed against it were citizens and lookers-on, some protesters and others who just happened to be passing by.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the press," He began and then let his green eyes look up to the men, women and children that he sought to protect. "People of the Confederacy, as of 12:32pm Galactic Standard Time, I have been removed from office as the Interim Leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems by a unanimous vote of no confidence from the remnants of Isley Verd's cabinet." An immediate ruckus started, questions asked so loudly and simultaneously that they became noise and little else.

He held up his hands and attempted to silence them. "Please! There will be time for questions later. I may not lead you but I am still a voice, and it still carries weight within the government. I will do everything in my power to make sure you are protected, I will use all my influence to make sure that a strong stance is taken against Omega Protectorate and the enemies that this administration and its previous leader has allowed to gather against us. You all have a voice, use it! The government lives to serve its people, not the people its government. Do not let Druckenwell be forgotten, do not let them lie down while YOUR lives are forf-" The shot was not silenced, it was a BOOM that ripped the air apart and then Norongachi was falling, spinning to the ground. His body guards, his own personal hand picked Knights, converged upon him at once and then another shot rang out, and blood coloured the air from one as his head simply ceased to be. The other two covered him with their bodies and the third began barking orders into his wrist com. The press scattered, the people cried out and the entire scene become mayhem.

Norongachi felt the hole in his chest, to the top and right upon his collar bone, blood surged from it a great pool that spread out around him even as the world began to grow dark. He took a breath, closed his eyes and then let the Force do its work. His heart rate began to slow, his pulse beginning to dull, his breaths shallower and shallower. EMT's were at his side now, he could hear them dully on the edge of his hearing crying out for resuscitation equipment. A barest flicker of pain from the gunshot wound as one of them began the process of stopping the bleeding.

It doesn't matter, he thought as his consciousness began to slip away, its already done.

 

[Raziel]

In a quiet, exclusive club on Roon, a lone man sat at a table. The brown envelope sat between himself and the empty seat, a small dark ring where the waiter had accidentally placed his drink on it. He had been waiting for his invited guest for nearly an hour. That wasn't a problem, he was an exceptionally patient man.

For the last few months he had been laying down his web on Roon. Finding connections, making links, gathering influence. Now those subtle vibrations reached him at the centre of his little web. All he had to do was pull on the right threads to exert his power. That would start today.

There were plenty of people to prepare for what needed to happen, but before that, he needed to destabilise their opposition. Today he had used some simple make-up to alter his appearance. Nothing fancy, but enough to make it difficult to track his movements from security cameras in the long term. His opponent today would seen forget his face.

Finally he spotted his guest. The slightly overweight man moved with a complete lack of grace between the tables towards them.

"Ah, Mr Racee?" he asked.

Raziel nodded, stood and firmly shook his hand. He had a predictably weak grip. "Pleased to meet you. I do apologise for ordering drinks already, but..."

"And I can only apologise for being late, as you can understand I am a busy man and...what's that?" he asked as he sat down, noticing the brown envelope.

"It's for you,"

"Oh come now, someone in my position couldn't possibly be seen taking brown envelopes from a representative of a corporation in a public..."

"Don't worry about the people here, but you really don't want to open it in public either," Raziel explained. A flash of angry cross the face of the politician who sat opposite him. "Last Zellday evening," Raziel added before the politician could respond.

The anger went. In fact the hot flush quickly drained away with the rest of the colour on his face.

"What...what do you want?" Minister Zavack asked quietly. He looked down at the brown envelope with wide eyes.

"I want you to take this comm," Raziel replied. Zavack looked down at the small device, that had suddenly appeared between them. "I want you to keep it on your person as much as possible, I don't want you to tamper with it or use it. At some point we'll be in touch."

Raziel slid back from the table and stood up in one smooth motion. "Enjoy your drink," he said. Without pause he left his guest at the table. Out of the corner of hie eye he saw Zavack reach for the envelope and then retract his hand as if he feared the paper would burn him.

One more thread in place. Zavack was just a connection or two away from a Viceroy who was firmly entrenched on the other side of this quiet war. This dirty, quiet war that the other side didn't even know was going on.

 

[EmKay]

BOOM...
Atretes' attention went from dull introverted musings whilst he stood off to the side, behind the Lord's Guard, to that of alertness... too late.

THWCK!
The shot landed in [member="Salem Norongachi"]'s person before he even had time to draw his saber in any attempt to deflect the bullet in an act of unlikely heroism.

BOOM-TCHK
The next shot seemed to appear from nowhere and landed a more fatal blow to Rhoujen's master's body. The outraged cry of despair that ripped from the young Obsidian's throat was drowned out by a similar roar from the crowd. When his lungs felt like they were about to collapse from simple exertion and emptiness, he fell to one knee, deactivated lightsaber still in hand. Then... something clicked.

"Weakness is death..." the voice said. Atretes' grip on his saber tightened when Sigma took the moment of vulnerability to whisper venom into the body's mind.

"Betrayal is cowardice..." the hissing went on, then Atretes' gaze glanced upward toward the crowd, all of them bustling in the aftermath, like scared ants swarming and writhing in a jumbled mass after their home was demolished. He stood then, and he could distinctly sense one of the holocams focus in on him. The mechanical whirring didn't escape his ears either, and he straightened his dress coat, tightened his tie back, clipped his lightsaber to his belt. His visage was cold, professional, and the look in his eyes betrayed the seething of his soul.

"Cowardice is weakness..." he took those few steps forward, his eyes flashing in the lights positioned at the camera. His blatant standing behind the podium was a temporary challenge to whatever threat that just ended the life of his mentor and friend. He looked from the camera, straight out to the crowd, who stilled slightly at his presence. He stood straight, tall, his being in itself a pillar against what was to come, until his voice spoke in unision with that of Sigma.

"Betrayal is death." he spoke. Quietly. Viciously. The crowd went silent, and he about-faced, walking past Salem's body, since pronounced deceased by the EMTs, with a glance down at the carnage. As he approached the governmental building, a bust of Isley Verd still stood in dedication to the Confederacy's previous leadership. A growl escaped Rhoujen's chest and his lightsaber flew from his belt to his hand, and in a single motion a line was drawn between the head and the body. With a following spin, his saber deactivated and returned to his belt, and the head flew out over the crowd before being crushed into a ball of clay that consequently fell to the ground and shattered. Atretes hesitated from his own display, then shook his head and retreated into the building.

There was work to do.

 

[EmKay]

"Status report." Atretes said, seated behind Norongachi's usual desk. The alcohol was cleared out and set to a counter at the side of the room, and several file cabinets were open. The desk has more desks cluttered around it, in a U-shape around the young man, with documents strewn everywhere and a glass of water sitting at the corner collecting condensation.

"Most of the Knights remain loyal to Norongachi and look to his apprentice for guidance, no matter how inexperienced you may be, sir." he said. Rhoujen nodded slowly, flipping a page in a binder regarding different aspects that Salem had been looking into regarding things from Druckenwell to Verd and just about everything in-between. It was a more abridged recounting compared to other things he'd read, but it was all starting to look the same. The betterment of the Confederacy. Any means necessary.

"Good," Atretes replied, peeling himself away from the binder, "What of the others?" he inquired. Sigma echoed familiar words in his head, and he prayed to whatever gods there may be that he wouldn't have to fight those he'd come to know, even vaguely.

"We are still unclear to the motivations of some of out brothers and sisters," came the reply, "I'll keep you informed." and with that, the messenger turned and left the room. Atretes deflated then, and read through the documents. News that the Obisidans were looking to him as the next Lord Commander in line was pressure that crushed that defiance that coursed through his veins. He never liked the limelight. He flipped another few pages, starting the stages of cross-referencing data and information. He plucked out his pocket secretary and opened up the holonet news, and listened in on the reports and mixing stories as he read the evidence gleaned by his late mentor.

"How uninformed they are," Rhoujen thought to himself as he read and listened, "To the scheme of things." he remembered when he was that person. In fact, it was mere hours ago that he was blind to the truth. It was in that moment that he had a kind of revelation, to never be in the dark again. He'd know what was going on if he had to tear it out of the minds of others...

"Good." came Sigma's voice. Rhoujen frowned and waved off the thoughts. There was still much to do.

 

[Raziel]

Raziel waited a full ten minutes for the small black screen to appear. The level of encryption was so high that it took this long just to establish a connection. The movement was so disparate that they often communicated in this way. A simple chat protocol wrapped up in a huge encryption algorithm that didn't leave an obvious signature. Even the SpyNet itself couldn't crack this with all its super computers and two years.

There was six members online tonight for their regular progress report. Raziel knew these people personally, had probed them all to ensure their loyalty. As per usual he asked a question of each member. They all responded in turn. Each of them had memorised a simple code sequence that he had imparted to them in person, and every answer was unique to the individual. This way he ensured that everyone present was genuinely the person he held in confidence.

It had been two weeks since the assassination of Norongachi. Three weeks since Salem had stood before three ghosts and handed out instructions. One of those ghosts had dispatched Raziel to Roon within minutes. He was off the grid now, but his network of influence was ever increasing.

16540: What progress has been made?

Raziel typed the message into the screen and awaited a response.

 

[Raziel]

Raziel snapped the lid of his terminal closed. The faint ripple in the Force warned him of impending danger. He reached out, touching the minds of those close by. In his mind’s eye bright flares of violent hues: reds and ochres, stood out above the rest. The people approaching his door were full of fear and excitement.

There was a quiet knock on the door. Raziel rose and moved towards his window slowly, still reaching out with the Force to find threats. His window backed onto a long dark alley, he held a small mirror he kept on him to the edge. His sensitive eyes could just about pick someone out in the far window, the Force confirmed another being with high emotions that dwarfed those around him. Then he heard a single footstep above him, it was a shuffling noise as if someone had almost tripped.

He shouted something to the man of the door as he assessed the situation. The angle from the far window would not give a great shot of the door, but the angle would put whoever was there at risk. As he was thinking he was gathering his few personal things. He picked up a small personal shield and slid it onto the edge of the window. If someone broke through the window the pocket sized device would sound an alarm and activate a temporary shield that would last a few seconds. Wouldn’t stop the first blaster bolt though.

Raziel then pulled down the shutters to block the view and as an afterthought turned the heaters directly under the windows to full blast to try and stop anyone getting a thermal image.

"Hi there," Raziel said as he slid the door half open. He yawned and leant his head back, keeping his eyes barely open to get a good look at the man. He tried his best to look tired and leant back on the wall that couldn’t be seen from the windows.

"Sorry to wake you at this hour, but I'm afraid we've registered an error with the heating in your room. Could be dangerous." The short man flashed some I.D. on front of Raziel's eyes. His acting was average, but the way he stood gave it away. Thoughts and ideas span through Raziel’s keen mind as he tried to make sense of the situation. Someone must have picked up the encrypted channel. The signature shouldn’t have triggered any intelligence devices that sat on the holonet bearers.

Spynet was supposedly still loyal to the Government. A government he was apparently working to topple. This was bad news, only a dedicated intelligence agency could have tracked him down here.

 

[Corey's OOC]

Sometimes just relaxing was all that Marek needed. And for him? That was cigars and booze and games of chance. Here it was really just billiards and cigars. If he really needed to, he could use the Force to hustle everyone but he preferred to do it the old fashioned way.

What moon was he on? Didn't matter. He had his slug thrower on his hip and his lightsaber tucked away on his ship. These were the types of places be missed going to What he needed was just to space out. And that was why he was here.

He wanted to be away from everyone and thing for what was to happen. He had heard murmurs of a few things and in order to protect himself he was going to be elsewhere.

That was when his com link beeped. Looking st the message. He nodded. So it was happening. Finishing hid whiskey, he signaled to the cocktail waitress. A pretty little thing. For one more. Leaning down to the table he called his shot. "One for the road."

 

[Raziel]

"Does it have to be done now?" Raziel asked, half-yawning again.

"I'm sorry sir but it won’t take a moment, it should be that one there," the man said as he leant his head round the door and looking at a heating unit. Raziel noticed him look at the window.

Raziel couldn't quite work out what the plan was yet, maybe this one was going to install a bomb or maybe just a device? No that wouldn’t be the case. They’d have done that while he was out. He focussed on keeping his body away from the line-of-sight of the person he could sense across the street.

"I tell you what I'll quickly check my terminal to see if the problem is still there." The technician put his bag down on the floor and took out a datapad. He sensed the other threat above them moving. The presences moved towards the street outside and then move directly downwards.

The window it is then, thought Raziel, realising the third assailant must have been outside the building. He stayed where he was for the time being, just inside the door. His right hand slid slowly down to his thigh where a small knife waited. He could just about make out a small, constant scratching noise. He doubted the "technician" could hear it. With the Force he focussed on the enemy that was now perched just behind his own window.

He shook his head and sighed. He tried to consider how they had found him, but he simply couldn't. Not now anyway, he was still running on adrenaline and hoping his instincts would pull him through.

The technician turned his upper body slightly, the movement was negligible, but it made all the difference to Raziel. He mentally prepared himself for action, making sure that every muscle in his body was ready. There was a sucking noise behind Raziel as the slab of how plasti-glass window fell out. The ripple in the Force turned to a wave, Raziel’s skill with prescience warning him of the immediate danger.

The technician turned towards Raziel brandishing a fletchette pistol, at the same time the window shield activated back in the room almost deafening Raziel with its alarm.

Raziel’s left arm shot forward and the Quickfire-3 shot out of its sleeve mount into his palm, his finger pulling the trigger almost instantly. At the same time as his shots hit the "technician" in the stomach, chest and head he swivelled his torso around and let the knife fly behind him without looking.

The knife thudded harmlessly into his assailant’s upper torso. Only the top of his chest, head and rifle had got through the hole before the portable shield had activated. Raziel picked up his bag of belongings and made his way down the corridor away from his room. He threw away the half-depleted Quickfire-3 hold out blaster and pulled another hold out from somewhere in his clothing. If he met any more of these people they would likely be armoured, but it was better than nothing and he didn’t have his sabers.

His journey to the speeder had been relatively uneventful. The sniper had probably fled and there had probably been only three.

 

[EmKay]

"They're ready, sir." the Knight said, interrupting Atretes from his pouring over documents. At this point he'd called in for more file cabinets to be brought in, some containing more folders, others empty and to be filled. In fact, several previously empty or emptied cabinets were refilled and lined up according to Atretes' organisation based on category, importance, and alphabetisation. He moved many records to encrypted files in his pocket secretary, which led him to considering making a personal cloud database... but that would be for another time. He nodded, and stood.

"Alright," he responded, straightening the same military uniform he wore two weeks ago, "I'll be right there." he finished. He tabbed where he was in the folders scattered across the desks, and headed out of the political building. His destination was across town, in an old theatre. There, nearly the entirety of the body of the Knights Obsidian was assembled to hear what their interim leader had to say. Atretes entered the building through the rear entrance and met with the so-far nameless Knight that informed him of the status before.

"They're ready." he said. Atretes nodded, and took a deep breath. He typically disliked public speaking, but desperate times... he sighed quietly and stepped out from behind the curtain and into the light. The murmuring went still from those assembled before him, and his visage was plain, yet the sense that he was troubled filled the air. He stood behind a small podium that was set up with a microphone, and he switched it on.

"Hello, Knights Obsidian," he started, his voice quiet and nervous yet still managing a clear tone, "As you know, Lord Commander Norongachi was murdered in cold blood two weeks ago," he said, his voice growing darker and more commanding as he spoke, "To which I responded with words that I am sure have hung from your necks like weights since then, or uplifted your spirits with resolve." he finished that part, and his senses flickered across them. Each one had a different response, but his words baited out those loyal to Verd and his ilk, and everyone in the room sensed their trouble among those who were outraged or supportive. Atretes' eyes locked onto one of them, his anger at what happened to whom was nearly his brother overriding his previously timid disposition.

"You there," he said, pointing with more accusation than an inquisitor, "Come here." he ordered. The Knight, a woman perhaps no older than her late twenties or early thirties, shuffled before making her way up onto the stage. Atretes gave the podium a kick and it swiveled so the microphone was directed at both of them.

"Everyone in this room can sense your anxiety," he said, and the others were rapt, "so explain yourself." he said, balancing on the fulcrum between continuing his speech and dripping venom from every word. She stammered out sounds before, finally, coming out with the confession he needed.

"I-Isley Verd brought us into an age of peace! He made the Templars a place of sanctuary, of knowledge!" she pleaded, but Atretes' gaze only grew cold.

"Do you think what his supporters did to the Lord Commander was just?"
"V-Ver-"
"DO YOU THINK," Atretes demanded, his mask gone, "...what his supporters did to Norongachi was just?" his eyes narrowed, and his senses of danger flared moments before a viridian blade was ignited against him, which sparked in unison with the yellow blade he was gifted by Norongachi.

Her blow was blocked, he stepped to the side and deactivated his lightsaber, causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground. He stepped away to a safe distance and called out to the other Knights.

"Now you see!" his voice rang without amplification through the chamber, "The honourless tactics of Verd's allies." he turned to the girl, who glared at him scornfully before turning and bolting for the nearest exit. There, Atretes' first ally in the body of the Knights obsidian gripped her to the ground through the Force, and Atretes slowly bridged the space between them. If looks could kill, his to her would have rent soul from flesh and devoured it, but he stayed his hand and looked to the audience.

"What will we do with her?" he called out to them, and some gasped at being given the choice, "Do we let a traitor go free, or do we bring one more to justice for actions against the only man who was only looking to protect the Confederacy?" he waited. They talked. She struggled, but the Knight was stronger than her. One from the crowd, an older one at that, called out finally.

"Betrayal is death!" he echoed Atretes' words from those weeks ago, and Rhoujen felt something within his gut come alive at that. Others joined, until most of the audience was chanting that phrase, those few supporters of Verd either converting rapidly or being detained by groups of Knights in the crowd. The young man turned to the girl, whose face was alight with terror. He nodded to the Knight, who brought her to her knees and shoved her torso forward so her neck was exposed. Atretes lifted the saber which had remained ignited in his hand the whole time.

"Betrayal is death." he echoed, then the hot blade sliced through the flesh and bone of her neck in a quick decapitation. Clean, simple, and effective. He deactivated the blade and waved for his ally to take her body away. He moved back to the podium and watched with surprise as the other obvious supporters of Verd's rule shared similar fates throughout the room. He cleared his throat, and regained attention.

"I expect you all on Roon within the week. That is all." he finished and excused himself in the same sentence, moving quickly off-stage. While he was full of conviction he was still young and the mass execution had its effect on him. He leaned against a wall and swallowed down bile that built up in his throat. He took a few deep breaths and then stood again to the hand of his new aid on his shoulder. He shrugged it off as politely as one can shrug off a supportive touch, and looked ahead.

"I'll be fine, thank you." he spoke quietly, then headed out for the docking bays, headed for Roon.

 

[Corey's OOC]

He really needed to get to work. With the game rounding up in a victory for him, he took his winnings, tipped the waitress out and made a beeline for his ship. Contacting hos droid, the Dark Tide was open and powered up for him. Approaching the ship, he made sure he wasn't being followed.

Perfect.

Stepping aboard he made to the cockpit and set to take off. The ship was leaving atmosphere in the half hour and he was idling out to the hyperspace launch points. With the newly founded Techno Union Security Force he knew what was needed to be done. Calling in an emergency need to move droids and control units away from the main convoy, for protection, he also called for the target moon, around Roon, to receive more weapons and droids.

With that sent off to the board for approval, he was hoping to receive confirmation it was confirmed when he exited light speed, it was time to get back home. Hypori, Bothawui, and Roon. So many stops to make. And he needed to get informed on the going ons. Where should he go first?

Hypori. And then the stars extended and he was moving.

 

[Raziel]

.

 

[Raziel]

Raziel saw the status of his transport change on the large screen. It appeared it was going to leave just a few minutes after the other ship. Perhaps he should have booked the other for an entirely separate day. He saw the ship that he was pretending to take was early and the ship he was actually travelling on was now late. Win some, lose some, Raziel thought. It looked like he would be departing five minutes later.



Raziel was awoken from his light sleep when the transport dropped out of hyperspace, an echo in Force reached him: panic, fear, death. The whole transport shook and Raziel immediately knew something was wrong. Checking the time he saw they were scheduled to stop at Nar Shadaa in only another five minutes.

"Apologies, but there will be a delay. Some wreckage is blocking our path." Came a stern voice over the tannoy.

Looking out of his window Raziel saw they weren't kidding. A massive transport the size of their own had a serious chunk, perhaps a quarter of the ship, blown out of it. Debris floated gracefully through space and harmlessly deflected off of his own transports deflectors.

Raziel pulled out his pad and checked the net, it was already on the news, even though it had happened … five minutes ago. It was the transport Raziel had booked another seat on with the identity from the Roon hotel. This was going to be interesting.

 

[Corey's OOC]

What was this? Another request? Garret Lim shook his head as he turned to the incoming terminal What communication was coming in this time? Oh, from the Foreman, really? That was a bit tricky. Opening the file, the gentleman who would have fit in with the Artisian Empire shook his head. What did the Foreman want with moving that many units out of the main area? Well, not really out of the way, Roon had a moon, and there was a base there, but it wasn't that habitable. Probably just a good place to store a set of units that could then be used... For whatever. A backup plan.

He didn't need to understand Starchaser. But all he knew was that this was a request. Lim nodded as he put away the paperwork he was working on, some contract extension and correction for fuel or something. This wasn't anything that needed his direct attention, but something coming from the Foreman? Well, it was Lim's job to make sure it got sent out to the right people. And seeing as how he was only here to cover Nica's shift, and with the blonde secretary out, he needed to make sure he did things as best as he could.

Besides, he could probably score points with her, and maybe even land a date. After all, Hypori did have a lot of nice places to go, and maybe Nica would wear one of those skirts she so liked at work...

Right, turning to his computer, Lim started writing up the work order. Moving a half dozen ships, full of battle droids, Vulture II starfighters, and the remainder of the Czerka weaponry out to the Roon system from the Rim, he nodded. Double checking, it all seemed in order and he marked it. Of course, he marked it incorrect. Garrett Lim, Secretary of the Acquisitions Office. Ah well, did it really matter?

Besides, he wanted to make sure it was sent out now. Making sure he roped in the Logistics office, as this was part of a continual Techno Union order until the new cache was created, he sent it off and went back to his work, going through fuel, again.

Joy



With Marek pulling out of hyperspace, he was alerted by his droid. Right, things were working? Checking the Foreman holonet terminal, he nodded. Wonderful. Logistics and... military acquisitions? Well, it was just creating a stockpile with the current events. What were the next few weeks going to bring? Marek had no idea, but he was ready, and waiting.

He knew what was expected of him, and creating this stockpile was going to be what he needed to do. Smiling, he saved the file and shut down the terminal. He was coming close to the shields for Hypori. "This is Dark Tide, requesting approach vector for the Techno Union Headquarters." And maybe an escort, they always gave him a droid starfighter escort. The props of being king, he supposed.

King of the business in the Confederacy. Or so he hoped.

 

[Salem Norongachi]

Salem awoke in darkness, his head pounding and his body in pain. He tried to sit up but found himself unable. His head hit the pillow again and he muttered a curse into the gloom. A hand reached toward his shoulder, feeling the dressing there where the bullet had passed straight through. The one thing he couldn't do anything about from his farce, was the blood loss. He felt weak from it, shaking and sick to his stomach. He raised his other hand and found its movements restricted, fingers found a tube going upwards from the back of it to somewhere above the cot. A blood transfusion, he assumed.

Carefully this time he raised himself upwards and swung his still booted feet onto the floor. The world lurched with the change in elevation and he fought back the urge to wretch up whatever might be in his stomach. "Doctor..." His voice was barely a croak but whomever he had called out to had heard him and light flooded into the room as a door opened.

"One hour..." The stick thin human spoke almost instantly. He flicked on the light switch and Salem saw he was in a storeroom, shelves in the corner held boxes and crates their contents unknown. "What about my payment?" The doctor asked hurriedly and it was only now Norongachi could see that the man was physically shaking, his skin glossed with sweat and pale.

"You'll get your stim, Trence.." Salem replied, looking up at the man with sudden green eyes. "But first, I need to know whats going on."

"But you sai-" Surprising speed brought the doctors face close to his by virtue of a hand on the front of his shirt.

"Help me to the computer." A voice like fire left no room for argument and the addict helped Norongachi out of the storeroom and into another. Here weapons lined the walls, older models than the CIS standard but there were boxes of them, stacked higher than a man. All of them purchased or procured through third parties in preparation. A bank of screens and computers had also been set up in the safe house, news feeds from across the CIS played on mute.

The doc sat him down on a chair in front of the screens and Norongachi reached toward a drawer on a desk to his right, a thumb print scanner kept it sealed and he put his digit to it. A beep signaled acceptance and he slid it open. "Top yourself up, Doc, you look terrible..." The Lord Commander commented as he handed the man a dose of glitterstim.

He took the remote in hand as the Doctor vanished to administer his 'medication', and looked across the screens. The headlines scrolling across the bottom of each screen while men and women in suits spoke without sound. He spotted one that caught his eye. "Betrayal is Death." He unmuted the sound.

"-What do you think [member="Atretes Rhoujen"] meant?" One of the group of five sentients asked. "Its a fairly bold statement from the Knights Second in Command."

"Norongachi brought him to the CIS, trained him in the Force. I think its pretty obvious what it means..."

"Cutting off the head of Isley Verds statue certainly speaks volumes about what he thinks of the current establishment."

"So what can we expect from the Knights then? Will they stand with the establishment or break away? Thats the question everyone wants answers to."

He muted that one and then turned to another.

"Who," The man asked his colleges. "Would want him dead?"

"The most obvious answer to that is the Protectorate. Cut off the head and watch the body flounder. We've had increasing reports from within the government that many members want to sue for peace after Druckenwell."

"You mean surrender.."
"Isn't it a viable option in the face of such opposition? It isn't just the protectorate that we're up against, you're talking about members of the Fringe, Ashin Varanin herself and Jedi as well."

"A viable option? Are you mad? Lets be perfectly honest here, any government that laucnhes an all out invasion, uses an inside man to decimate a world and all in the name of rooting out Sith...to then ALLOW the former Sith Empress to ride shotgun throughout isn't one you bend the knee to. Norongachi knew that."

"I think that's exactly who you bend the knee too haha" The mans joke was lost upon the speaker.

"This isn't a laughing matter," The man spoke sternly. "These are peoples lives, their homes and their families. And let me tell you this, if it were up to Verd's government we wouldn't have a fleet over our heads or an army on the ground. They cower before the bully, they want to turn over their lunch money and I say this to anyone from the Protectorate watching: You wont have mine."

A barking laugh escaped Norongachi's lips before it gave way to a pained spluttering cough. He silenced the screens and reclined back in the chair, letting the pain subside. The rumor mill was a wondrous thing, provide the right environment and the right information for wild speculation and all you had to do was step back and watch what it produced.

It was like bemusing children, really.

"Doc!" He yelled, feeling what little energy he had dwindle. He needed to sleep.

 

[Salem Norongachi]

3 Hours Post Assassination

As unanimously as Norongachi had been voted out, Jonas Wilhem had been voted in. For years he'd watched others who carried more favor with Verd be promoted ahead of him and he had waited, he had patiently bided his time. Watching the game play out within the CIS, the pieces moving on the ever changing board until he saw his opening.

While Norongachi had called for war, Jonas had called for peace, to begin negotiations with the Omega Protectorate. At first the cabinet had been divided, the military advisers had wanted to appear strong in the public eye but others had listened to him, they could see the writing on the wall even before Druckenwell. After it, after the 'apparent' betrayal of Serock Hoath and the massacre committed against the people of the shipyard world, opinions began to change. The CIS hadn't been in a major conflict since their relatively small altercation with the Black Suns Syndicate and no one was fully prepared for the worst an armed conflict could throw at them. A conversation here, a late dinner there, words dripped in ears like corrosive honey and the support for the Lord Commander began to dissolve.

Ironic, he thought taking his place at the head of the table, it was just such a conversation with Salem Norongachi that had inspired the idea that brought him down. And now the man was dead. Life was full of pleasant surprises, he mused.

"Gentlemen," He began. "What is our first order of business?"

"The assassination. We should address it quickly."

"Issue a statement, our deepest sympathies. Doing all we can, the usual shpeel." Jonas responded with a lazy shrug and the Press Secretary nodded. "Next?" It was a simple task, administering a nation.

* * *

12 Hours Post Assassination
A breath slipped from his lips as his eyes closed, it had been close to twelve hours since the Fall had gone into effect. Already [member="Raziel"] had made inroads, ones that would be vital to the success of Norongachi's plan. Now it fell to the rest, the select few that would be instruments of change for the future Omega envisioned.

He calmed his mind, cast away the physical and all its trappings and let his mind dispersed into the vastness of the Force. Traversing the infinite threats that bound the Galaxy together to find a select few and over such a distance was taxing, to say the least, but the Master had walked this road before. He had spent days, weeks, months, years gazing into the every shifting light that so few were privileged to see. All the time he had spent in stasis, his mind had wandered, it had rode the waves of Dac, scurried through the branches of Kashyyyk. He had watched stars die and felt them be reborn. Now he surged along the pathways, the fine threads that represented the presence of a life within the Force searching, hunting, for but a few among the incalculable number.

"Mr Foreman," He began, his voice carrying across the stars to Marek Starchaser. "Your first task: Weapons, armour, equipment. Detour a shipment to the outpost on the moon of Roon. This required precise timing, it needs to be done within the next twelve hours."
He brought the mind of [member="Raziel"] to the fore and transmitted not words but images, the base, its layout, how many men would be stationed there and also the delivery of the weapons and an estimated time frame for their arrival. The man would know what to do with it.

Next was a consciousness that he could find as easily as taking a breath, a mind as strong as his own; [member="Anesia Jy'Vun"]. He touched upon it gently, letting the essence of a smile permeate the connection. "Anesia, its time. Use all your powers, bring them to heel."

He considered contacting [member="Atretes Rhoujen"] but he refrained, his Student had to think he was dead. If a hint of falsehood in his actions was detected by the more versed Force Users he now lead, his work would be undone. He needed the Knights, they were key to what was to come.

Siala Kai was next, the Witch of Dathomir and his apprentice from 700 hundred years in the past. She had been left aboard the Hand of Fate, awaiting his instruction to relay it to Emah who had taken the ship far beyond the reach of the CIS. "Witch," He began. "Its almost time, has Emah located the frequencies used by the rebel cells?"

"Yes," She responded, her voice was small, weak, but not as weak as it had been when they were reunited. What strength he had gifted her eons ago was returning. "She has been monitoring their communications."

"When will they strike?"

"A months time, although no one is certain on an exact date or time."

"Continue to monitor them and keep [member="Raziel"] up to date. I can't stress enough how vital precision is. It won't be long now."

 

[Raziel]

OOC/ three weeks after assassination. Follows his interactions with Irys.


Raziel sipped a cold glass of water and looked out onto The Square. He had only been in Bothawui for a few days and after seeing the transport he had a booked a seat on obliterated in space, he had kept his head low. He’d made some contacts within the military, but had kept away from his existing members of the rebellion. If they were trailing him, he didn't want to lead them right to the heart of Salem's movement.

The Square was a giant marketplace and meeting point for the wealthy. It was itself a giant platform suspended between four of the tallest sky towers in the capital city. Each of the towers was a multipurpose building with floors used as exclusive hotels, restaurants, or corporate headquarters and each of them stood at one corner of The Square. They were nearly a kilometer above ground level.

He looked down from his table to the Square below. It was busy outside on The Square, it always was. Bothawui's upper class mingled, made small talk and business arrangements. He sighed and sipped his drink quietly.

Behind him someone had turned the screen to a news Channel. A reporter was discussing the damaged transport, blaming terrorists working in the name of the murdered Norongachi.

Raziel got up from his table and stepped over to the balcony between his two contacts, he looked down at the iridescent shimmering below him, the only clue that a force field protected those on The Square from possible assassination. Bothan paranoia knew no bounds.

“The usual?” he asked. Both of these men were loyal to Salem, he’d spent hours worming his way into their minds to ensure that he wasn’t giving away information to elements of SpyNet loyal to the government.

“Yes. Bey’s having his morning coffee again. He’s had a few comm calls, we had a listen but it was the usual. Nothing yet to give us a good time or place to make contact.

Poor Bey Asyr'rey, a man so loyal he has to share Salem’s fate, Raziel thought. The man was senior in government on bothawui, but he was not part of the rebellion. He was too entrenched in the system for anyone to get close, and if anyone had approached him, it was likely he would assume a Spynet loyalty test.

Last week he had entered a heated, public debate on the subject of military engagements. His opponent, a supporter of the new regime, had made a barely veiled threat that arguing on the side of Norongachi “carried health risks.”

So, instead of being a loyal member of the rebellion, he had to share Salem’s fate. If he was publically assassinated everyone would assume Verd’s lackeys had struck again. Raziel was almost able to muster some sympathy for the Botham. Almost.

“No time like the present!” Raziel suddenly announced. He turned away from the railing and started to walk away.

“Wait!”

“Where are you going?”

“Just watch,” Raziel shouted back over his shoulder

 

[Raziel]

She watched every movement about her, eyes scanning everything. All the time thinking and watching. Her mind was constantly at work, calculating possible threats, deciding on the best escape routes, imagining the possible methods of attack. Yet to anyone around her, she looked like another security guard casually sipping a steaming mug of caff. It was all for her charge, the bothan politician Bey Asyr'rey. Her Intel didn't suggest any real threat, but since the televised interview, the cautious bothan had taken additional precautions, which extended to hiring her team.

At all times one of her eyes watched the small bothan sitting opposite her, whilst one hand rested on the blaster on her thigh. They were sat in the Century café, the small café that was housed within the tall, needle like Century building. The building was a magnificent hotel, build several years ago by an entrepreneurial corporation that had since gone bankrupt. It housed ten thousand guests at a time. Docking rings jutted out from the tall, round building, allowing patrons to leave their vehicles close by. Rhylena did her homework. Right now she had three different escape route planned in her mind that would lead to speeders owned by her group in the Century Hotel.

She was Rhylena Talans, of Talans private security. Her father owned the business, had brought her up to do this very job, yet even he had not foreseen how good she would become. She and her team were the highest paid private security group on the planet and her father's company was held in the highest respect. All of their clients were guaranteed complete safety, whilst the security in place was unobtrusive. Of course such a service came at a price. She had jumped in front of a blaster for her first client, saving him from a rodian assassination attempt and from then on not a single client had died under her watch.

She did what it took to get the job done, and nothing got past her. She wasn't afraid of hurting people's feelings and was often blunt and to the point. If her clients didn't like it, they could go without her protection. The main feature which people tended to remember her by was her nose, having been broken many times it was now permanently shifted to one side. Despite offers to have it altered, she liked the mark that reminded others of what she did.

She made a secret signal to the rest of her hidden bodyguard team and leant over the table.

"Bey Asyr'rey, it is time for your meeting," he nodded in reply and put the newspaper down on the table and got up. As he walked for the table a group of men came out of nowhere and surrounded him. Rhylena walked out first into the open square and looked up, through the force field, at that balcony.

"What have they been up to today?" she asked.

"Same as usual, though there's one new person up there," her second in command answered. There were always people up there. Always watching. Always waiting. Rhylena knew that the political circles of the Bothans were complicated. Spying, manipulation, and subversion were all par for the course. Assassination was rare, but her client had felt he was under threat. She nodded to her team and they set off through the crowd, subtly manipulating it so no one could get close to their client.



Raziel looked down at her from a balcony, he needed no macro binoculars to watch the team carefully. His green eyes studied them, made a measure of them. Raziel watched their patterns, learned their routines and learned their hand gestures. With her keen senses, sharp mind and the Force, he did this in a matter of seconds



Rhylena looked back and forth, scanning the crowd around her. Her mind worked furiously, looking for any possible threat, a glint of plasteel, perhaps a hidden weapon. Even perhaps the way someone approached her group. She worked extra hard now, after one of her team reported that a figure from the balcony had moved. Then she saw him.

She only saw his eyes at first, those piercing green eyes. Across the crowd she saw him standing there, his cloak flapping in the breeze behind him. No-one bumped into him, even though he only stood five feet tall. The team came to an abrupt halt as she just looked at him, his intense eyes staring straight at her across the gap in the crowd. And then he was gone. She quickly looked around trying to see him, but couldn't.

"Code needle! Move!" she shouted. Her team behind her went into action, they moved through the crowd as one, forcefully pushing people out of the way. She moved behind her client and rested a hand on his shoulder, her other hand tightly gripping a blaster. She kept looking, her eyes darting back and forth.

The man had shown himself for a reason. He had challenged her, he had outright declared that he was going to kill her client and dared her to stop him.

They were almost to safety now, if they could get back to the Century building she could have her men close off the corridors around them whilst they made their way to a transport. Confused civilians bumbled all around them, some of them scurrying out of the way, others being pushed.

Then out of the corner of her eye she spotted him through the crowd. She felt something brush against her shoulder and turned back to face the attacker. There was no-one there. She turned back and carried on forwards, but bumped into her client, who had stopped walking. She felt a slight pain.

Rhylena paused. She looked around, but felt somewhat disconnected from the events around her. She sensed someone from her team shouting, but could not react. All she could feel now was her heartbeat and an intense pain in her chest. She brought a hand up to her face. Her fingers were stained in red.

She looked down at her chest to see blood spreading out through her clothes from her chest. Then she noticed the tip of a black dagger protruding from her clients back, her client was clearly dead on the stop. Strong hands grasped her as she began to fall forwards, Bey Asyr'rey fell forwards in front of her, but no-one moved to grab him. She reached out for him, to try and catch him, to try and save him. She could not.

As her vision faded to black, all she could think about were those intense green eyes.

 

[Anesia Jy'Vun]

Bothawui
Government Building
Capital Suite 001
Two weeks prior to the assassination

There were three of them surrounding her, drenched in black. They gave everything to imagine, not a hair or patch of skin to be revealed. It was enough to make her uneasy. Anesia gave them a bored look after enough time had passed in silence. She was all but summoned to the Capital on a last minute notice. To her dismay, they said it should have been scheduled in by her secretary. The only thought that came to mind was Miss Black and she held back a snort. Thanks Vera.

All at once, the men sat so that she was essentially cornered. Once they explained the operation, her face went slack, white...

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The three stood at the very exact moment that Salem entered the room.

The look she spawned from her face was that of incredulous... then of genius. "Sal," Anesia sighed his name, "I don't know if I should slap you or kiss you." Neither is appropriate right now, but that does little to persuade me to still.


Capital Building
Army Division
Office of General Jy'Vun
Same day, hours later

Quill stilled upon parchment, the other hand deftly at her ear.

"The Fall is a go, I repeat: The Fall, is a go."

In one fluid motion, Anesia stood and placed her notes off to the side. "Bring me..." she paused, "all the reports on Druckenwell."



Capital Building
Army Division
Office of General Jy'Vun
Day one of The Fall; the assassination

The com was dead and it had been for days now. Only static.

Stacks upon stacks of paperwork decorated the cavernous off-white walls of the General's office. However disorderly it appeared, the fact was that they had been gone through, denied, approved, and divvied out according to the topic at hand. "VERA....Where is VERA?" a voice screamed, echoing around and then out the office door. Why do I ask? I already know where she is. Alchemy green eyes peered over the calendar, she sighed and all but slammed her small hands atop the dark wooded, even neatly arranged desk.

"Vera is on vacation," came an unfamiliar voice, "how can I help?"

The woman was pencil-thin, with eyes so light and blue, they almost seemed iridescent. Her hair was bright, not quite red or orange, but a mixture. The face was pretty enough, Anesia finally decided, then gave the okay to enter with a stiff nod that only military or politicians were able to pull off. "This paperwork needs to be out of my office and filed...." she awaited a name. After all, the Master did have manners. Even if her sudden announcement had earned the tag of 'Captain Obvious'.


I'm tired of looking at it.

"Melina Starfire," the fiery haired woman answered immediately.

"Feel free to get a couple others roaming about to help you, Miss Starfire. The quicker it is done, the better off we will all be." A slender digit noted the piles around the room without even taking another glance at the woman. Anesia had flipped a file open marked CONFIDENTIAL in bold red block lettering and had since begun reading over it. Lieutenant General Verna. Many of the Confederate Army thought him dead. For a good while, she had believed it also. He took his time being a ghost. This file stated he still was. She smiled lightly. "Alina..."

Within a taxing thirty minutes, the clutter had been extinguished and the door slid shut with an audible airy-hiss. It left the massive room quite empty. Quite silent. The earpiece went off.

A sigh that she had been holding in washed past her mouth in a flood of anxiety. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Bright green eyes flashed up at the clock.
News flooded office, news she had been expecting, but still the show must go on. The comlinks were going off and Anesia only eyed them with contempt before picking one up. "Salem is dead... he's...." Vera squawked on the other line, loud enough that the room could hear.

"I told you it was only a matter of time, Anesia." Alina finally answered.

A coldness swept up her spine and she turned in her chair to make eye contact with one of her 'advisers'. She could barely make out the woman's visage that was cast in shadows. "What did you say?" green eyes had gone wild and she stood slowly, not quite understanding why Alina would say what she had.