Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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The transition to her new office on Fondor had been difficult. Not only was the Senator of Dahrtag afflicted with a mysterious illness, she also had to deal with the usual trials and tribulations associated with moving to another planet.

She couldn't seem to find anything in her new office, with its unfamiliar layout and strange furnishings. And it wasn't as if her work could cease or slow down long enough for her to get used to the change. Trying to hunt down a particularly elusive file, she sifted through tapes and discs in her cabinets. Upon locating the correct tape, she turned around sharply—accidentally knocking over a paperweight with her elbow in her haste to get back to her desk. It broke into several dozen pieces.

"Loa save me from myself," she cursed under her breath, pressing a button. A cleaning droid appeared a few minutes later to vacuum up the mess, making just enough noise to prevent her from focusing on what she needed to do...

 
"After all this time…" Aldric Laurent adjusted his suit with visible discomfort. It felt alien to him now. All of it. More than it ever did following his first retirement. Maybe because it had been a willing departure then. But over the last several years he had been forced into a new life. Not unlike the one that had started him down this path to begin with. A bit of civil disobedience had grown into something much more involved. Never had it been more clear that it was all a great big cycle than finding himself here in the senate building.

Of course, it wasn't the same senate building he knew. The Alliance was in a mess, and their government operations had shifted to Fondor for safety. All the busyness that came with the move would likely be a boon to Aldric's mission. Under typical circumstances, he'd be concerned about being recognized if he returned to Alliance space. He didn't necessarily resent the GA, but he had grown beyond them, and come to consider them somewhat dysfunctional. Too indirect. Too clogged up. If action was to be done, it wasn't to be found in the bureaucratic shufflings of the Alliance. And them learning of his survival would just be an extra and unwanted spotlight on what was supposed to be a covert job. But of all the members of his cell, Aldric was chosen for this mission because he knew the ins and outs. If anyone could blend in, it would be him. And so he begrudgingly found himself taking on the facade of a super spy once again.

His target was supposed to be around here somewhere. Aldric was tempted to just keep wandering until he found what he needed, but if he struck out, it'd look more suspicious than if he just swallowed his pride and asked for directions. Slowly, he came to a stop in front of an office doorway. There wasn't a sign on the entrance yet, but inside was a woman of striking appearance, working at her desk while a droid cleaned up the space. He stepped inside awkwardly, and cleared his throat, "Excuse me," He said, finding a natural tone and disarming smile, "This wing is for the Dahrtag offices, right?"

 
"Excuse me."

Sycorax looked up sharply, one hand automatically brushing the holdout pistol hidden on her hip. Her bodyguards didn’t feel the need to hang around her while she was safely ensconced inside a building as secure as the Senate offices, but one could never be too careful.

Well, if this man was here to kill her, at least he was easy on the eyes. Previous assassins tended to be quite ugly, which only made the prospect of death at their hands all the more unappealing.

"This wing is for the Dahrtag offices, right?"

Yes,” she replied, raising her penciled eyebrows. “I am Sycorax Laveaux, Senator of Dahrtag. For now, anyway. And you are…?

 
Aldric quirked an eyebrow at the added 'for now', "Surely they wouldn't take a woman such as yourself out of office, Mrs. Laveaux," He smirked, his expression contorting for a split second as he was asked his name, "Holm Whitesun," He continued naturally, "Specifically I'm looking for one Spencer Lanyon. He's one of your staff then, no? Could you point me in the right direction?"

 
Perhaps it was intuition, or maybe she’d been in the business long enough that she could spot a lie from a mile away. But something told Sycorax that Holm Whitesun wasn’t his real name.

"Specifically I'm looking for one Spencer Lanyon. He's one of your staff then, no?"

You mean Dr. Spencer Lanyon?” she asked. “He’s my personal physician.” Her brow furrowed faintly and the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown. There was no denying that the two shared quite a bit of history.

I can call him in.” She moved to press a button on her desk, but hesitated. Lanyon had long been the team's medic, almost a founding member of the Monsters. He was an excellent doctor, but not a great fighter. If Mr. Whitesun meant him harm, she didn't want to put his life at risk. “May I ask why you want to see him?

 
This dame wasn't all looks, it seemed. She kept pressing him on the details. Aldric hadn't lost his touch just yet though; In fact, subterfuge had myriad uses among his current profession, the same as his old one.

"The very same," He said with a confident nod, though his expression furrowed in mock regret as Sycorax tried to keep things on her turf. 'Holm' raised a hand, "Well, Madame senator, the details are for his ears only." He reached into his coat pocket, and retrieved a business card, complete with name, position, and affiliation, "But I'm with Chiewab. We're making the rounds with all the good doctors in Dr. Lanyon’s position to share some new breakthroughs in medtech. And when I say new, I mean, not quite ready for the public market, eh?" A charismatic chuckle, "So, you understand the confidentiality of trade secrets."

 
His story was plausible enough, though if she actually believed it she would’ve dismissed him as a salesman. Sycorax knew in her gut that there was more to this than he was letting on.

Very well. He should be here in a few minutes.” She pressed the button to summon the doctor, then sank into her chair. With her hands in her lap—and out of “Whitesun”’s sight—she quickly pressed another button hidden among her arm wrappings. That one summoned her bodyguards.

You don’t look like a medical man, if you don’t mind me saying so,” she remarked while they waited, smirking faintly.

 
"Wonderful. Thank you," He turned away from Sycorax for a moment, venting a tinge of distress. The longer he spent with this senator, the more he risked giving something away, be it details about himself or the mission. His description would probably be all over Fondor by the evening, assuming he got out of here in the first place. Sure, Aldric had all the incriminating evidence on this doctor, but if things went sideways it could be easily dismissed as a framing at best. This needed to go a very specific way to send the right message, and at this point, Aldric wasn't sure he'd be getting that.

You don’t look like a medical man, if you don’t mind me saying so,

Aldric turned back to face her, and exchanged a smirk, "Well, I'm not a doctor certainly, if that's what you're saying. I'm just the rep. Get the goods out of the lab and into the clinic, you know? I like to think I've at least got the ah, charisma, for that." A wink, before he glanced back at the entrance, "So what's Doctor Lanyon like? I've never met him myself."

 
A salesman,” she said, with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “I suppose I could see that.” Sycorax continued to watch him closely, disguising her scrutiny as flirtation. “You’re handsome enough to be an actor or a model. But I’m sure you’ve heard that before.

"So what's Doctor Lanyon like? I've never met him myself."

Her gaze flicked toward the door, half expecting Lanyon to burst in at that exact moment. The poor dear had been fretting over her ever since she fell ill, promising to always be there if she needed him. Sometimes she wondered if he believed there was still a chance for them…

He is a good doctor,” she answered. “A good listener, and very attentive. I’m sure he’ll be interested in whatever you’re offering.

A slight vibration at her wrist told her the guards were in place outside her office door, ready to act at a moment’s notice. She relaxed just enough for it to be noticeable.

 
Aldric chuckled, "Probably the most accurate term," He conceded. "But that's why I stuck with MedTech. As opposed to say, the pharmaceuticals division? Well, that business is a bit messier. S'pose that's a bit of an open secret but, don't tell anyone I said it anyway." Another practiced smile, "The stuff I sell goes straight to helping the doctors themselves. I don't lose any sleep over that."

He chuckled again at the favorable comparison to an actor, "From my grandmother, maybe," Holm said humbly, continuing, "But I'm flattered. Especially coming from one such as yourself, Madame Senator." He dipped his head slightly in anckowledged.

As the wait prolonged, his focus regularly switched between Sycorax and the door. The longer it took, the more he suspected that she suspected something. It was hardly impossible. Aldric mentally prepared himself for a bit of chaos. "Sounds like you meet with him often," He noted, "You two go back a ways?"

 
He talked about his business. If she was operating on the assumption that he was lying, well, all lies have a grain of truth to them. She wondered what he was really talking about. What messy business had he chosen to distance himself from in favor of… whatever this was.

"From my grandmother, maybe. But I'm flattered. Especially coming from one such as yourself, Madame Senator."

Sycorax smiled. "Believe it or not, I suffered a disfiguring accident a few years ago. The surgeons did an excellent job of rebuilding me." Perhaps even too good.

"Sounds like you meet with him often. You two go back a ways?"

Her smile faded. But before she could answer, the door opened and in walked Dr. Lanyon. He was a thirty-something year old man with neatly slicked back hair, smartly dressed and handsome in a dapper way. There was something of the soft and sheltered aristocrat in him. He certainly seemed less worldly than the other two people in the room with him.

“I came as soon as I could,” he said, wide-eyed. “What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

Sycorax shook her head. “There’s a gentleman here to see you,” she said, gesturing to “Whitesun” with a bandaged hand.

 
Aldric dropped his persona for just a moment, a bit of genuine surprise touching his features. An incident? There was more to the story than that, no doubt. It was difficult to know how to properly respond to such a thing. She didn't seem like the kind of woman to seek pity, and him complimenting the surgical work felt a bit tone deaf in a way. "…Apologies, I didn't know that," He started, now noting the scars along the sides of her head, "You seem to be doing well. We need that kind of strength in the senate."

Before their conversation could continue, Lanyon finally entered the room. "Holm" stood up tall and confident once more, "Dr. Lanyon. A pleasure to finally meet you," He extended a hand, "My name is Holm Whitesun. I'm with Chiewab. Was hoping we could bend your ear about our latest innovations." He glanced to Sycorax for a moment, "Do you perhaps have an office of your own where we could talk shop?" He asked the doctor, looking back at him again.

 
Well, of all the things I’ve been called, weak isn’t one of them,” she tried to joke. But the tone of the conversation had shifted, and Dr. Lanyon had arrived.

The doctor shook his hand firmly. “Chiewab? Oh, yes.” Lanyon cast a glance toward Sycorax, who nodded ever so slightly. “Of course. My office is right this way.”

He didn’t have an office in the Ministry, of course. But “Holm Whitesun” didn’t need to know that. Lanyon would lead him to an unoccupied office, claiming to be “not quite settled in yet”, and Sycorax’s guards would wait and see what happened. Just to be sure that there was nothing strange about Mr. Whitesun’s visit.

 
"No doubt," Was all else Aldric said.

Dr. Lanyon arrived, and agreed to take Mr. Whitesun to an unfinished office. On the jaunt there, Aldric filled the silence with the corporate equivalent of small talk. Once they were in the room, he casually looked around the space, taking note of the surroundings. He nodded, and opened up his coat to retrieve a file, "I'm sure you don't need me to tell you the Alliance is in quite the mess right about now, or the stakes of it. Keeping the lovely Senator Laveaux in one piece is your top priority, no doubt," He chuckled almost inaudibly, as if he didn't fully believe that, "As I said we're making the rounds will all personal physicians like yourself. There's something new we've got in the works. We want to hear your thoughts."

Assuming Dr. Lanyon took and opened the file when offered, he would be presented with physical evidence of his affiliation to the Dark Empire. Photos, transcripts, even a data chip. In those few crucial moments while he was occupied, Aldric would draw a silenced slug pistol, and shoot him.

 
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, boss.”

A voice hissed behind Aldric before he had a chance to shoot. Gill, Sycorax’s aquatic bodyguard, had slipped silently into the room after them and was now pointing a blaster at Aldric's head.

Other less stealthy guards filed into the room, cutting off the exit and surrounding “Holm Whitesun”. Dr. Lanyon, who had glanced only briefly at the contents of the file, remained where he was, the picture of innocence.

A communicator crackled, and Sycorax’s voice could be heard. “Normally I’d ask who you really are, but let’s keep things simple. Who are you working for? Werdegast? Zaleska? Craven? The fething von Carpathias?” Despite her best efforts to appear in control, her voice shook with anger. She was so very tired of dealing with assassination plots.

 
Aldric grumbled as one of the guards had somehow given him the slip. Always had to make things complicated. He raised his hands, the pistol still on his finger, "Paranoid bunch, aren't we? Surely not just for me." He assessed with notable annoyance in his voice. Sure, his visit was a bit sudden, but these were some high grade precautions given the circumstances. Something else was at play.

Sycorax's voice appeared over the comms. He had hoped to keep her and the others out of this, at least until it was all said and done, and they could see the truth for themselves, "Dunno who you're talking about, ma'am." He said plainly, "Try: the only people in the galaxy who give a damn." He nodded to Dr. Lanyon, "Why don't you show 'em what's in the file, doc? I'm sure Senator Laveaux would be quite eager to see what you had In mind for her next check-up."

 
"Paranoid bunch, aren't we? Surely not just for me."

"We look after our own," said another of the bodyguards, a tall and lanky man with white hair in a sarge cut.

"Why don't you show 'em what's in the file, doc? I'm sure Senator Laveaux would be quite eager to see what you had in mind for her next check-up."

"What is he talking about?" Sycorax asked.

Dr. Lanyon was silent. His fingertips brushed the file possessively, but he made no move to open it.

"Doctor," the white-haired bodyguard asked. "What's in the file?"

A moment passed as Lanyon realized he was cornered. The blood drained from his face, growing pale and almost gaunt with terror. "Don't listen to him," he pleaded. "I would never do anything to hurt you. Any of you. You're my family!"

Behind her desk in her own office, Sycorax clutched her communicator with a white-knuckled grip. "Get the file," she ordered. "I want to know what's in it."

The bodyguard took a step forward. Gritting his teeth in what might have been a snarl or a wince, Lanyon pulled a blaster and fired a single shot at "Whitesun" before he was taken down by the guards. Their weapons were set to stun; his unconscious body fell in a heap on the carpeted floor.

 
"Not all of you," Aldric couldn't help but snark. With a few comments he had already aroused their suspicion, and the good doctor didn't exactly make a convincing argument of his innocence. When a guard moved to take the file, Lanyon all but guaranteed his guilt when he tried to shoot Aldric. He wasn't exactly a trained marksman, and fired a bit early on the draw, only hitting him in the leg.

Laurent toppled over as his knee gave out from the impact. He ducked down and pulled out his blaster to retaliate, only to find the others had already taken Lanyon down. He grumbled, and begrudgingly held up his hands again, "Trust me now?"

 
"Trust me now?"

Gill’s answer was to keep his weapon trained on the man. Meanwhile, the other bodyguard went to secure the doctor. “Lanyon’s stunned,” he reported to Sycorax. “Assassin’s wounded in the leg.”

Holding her head in her hands, Sycorax took a deep breath. “Security will be crawling soon. You have two options, Mr. Whitesun—if that is your name. I can either leave you at the mercy of the SIA, or make you an official citizen of Dahrtag and thus bring you under my custody.

 

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