Private The Welcome Interview

[Veshok Rook]

The Welcome Interview​

The war had been declared and its first battle had been fought. The damage caused in the initial attack had been immense. Extensive damage to infrastructure and people's livelihoods had been devastating and the Galactic Alliance was hard at work, trying to mend what had been broken. Lives had been lost and the day-to-day buzz had been disrupted. This was particularly true for the Senator of Aegis.

During the battle, Jenn Kryze boarded The Corvo - a diplomatic corvette carrying the Senators Raphael Calgar and Natasi Fortan. At the end of the battle, Calgar had managed to escape but Fortan had been captured and brought to the frozen capital world of the Enclave.

Tor Valum, the city to which Senator Fortan had been taken, was bound to Mt. Valum - this feature left an almost inescapable mark on most aspects of the capital. The facility in which the Senator was held had been carved deep into the rocks. Breaching the rocky walls to the facility would likely be a greater challenge than getting through the walls of any surface-bound structure. Although it had a dark and hard appearance, the facility offered warmth, electricity, functioning cooking stations and bathrooms. Still, no luxury was offered and it was obvious that things ran on a budget. Guests wore simple white or beige clothes, beds were uncomfortably hard and the food - while not lacking in the typical Mandalorian spiciness - tended to be composed of an affordable range of ingredients.

Opposite of crowded, this facility intentionally kept its guests apart. Intel from those who could coordinate with others had a tendency to be less reliable. Most social interactions were associated with brief exchanges with guards regarding food or sanitary matters. More intense social interactions could be expected during interviews.

***​

Vesh had just taken the elevator down to the underground facility where Senator Fortan was held. Upon arrival, a guard had given him a datapad containing information regarding the captive's stay. It was a light read for when he made his way to her room. The logs contained few things of significance and mainly offered information on personal possessions, health and medical treatment for a broken nose as well as notes on observed habits.

Before entering, the broad-shouldered Mandalorian picked up an unmarked crate, knocked on the door and opened it with the press of a button. Bright clinically white light flushed into the room from the corridor behind him, making it hard to see but a silhouette of him at first. Vesh' eyes quickly scanned his surroundings and eventually settled on the Senator. "Hello, I am Veshok Rook" he spoke in a helmet-filtered low voice - low enough to make it hard to hear his name in full as the door closed behind him with a mechanical hiss.

Once the doors closed, it would be easier to see him. His armour was beautifully decorated with detailed engravings and ornaments. Jenn Kryze had left a scratch on the chest plate but it had mostly been worked away. By his back hung a fine clothed cape which was partially held in place by an elegant cloak clasp carrying a small symbol of an Onderonian noble family. Raising a muscled arm, he pointed to the table at the far end of the room "Have a seat"

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi Fortan was standing when the door opened, facing away from it. Rook's dramatic lightshow wasn't entirely lost on her, though, as she could see the silhouette on the wall opposite the door. Hers would have been there, too, but he dwarfed her and his shadow eclipsed hers. Rather stereotypically slender of frame, illness and captivity had made her positively slight. Her hands had been clasped behind her back; in truth the Senator had been meditating when Rook had come.

Half-turning, she regarded the Mandalorian coolly, her brown eyes devoid of any trace of warmth as they followed his outstretched arm to where he was pointing. The table at the far end of the room. She did not respond but she did obey, crossing the room toward the table. She stood near one of the chairs and turned back toward Rook.

She swallowed to wet her throat, but when she spoke her voice was still hoarse for the first few words. "The talented Ms. Kryze couldn't join us?" After that first bit of difficulty, her voice was level and cool. The Supreme Leader voice, deployed to offer an air of polite interest while resisting the efforts of anyone trying to get her to express an opinion. "What a pity. I was so hoping to get to know her better." Natasi glanced at the chair, then over to Rook. She supposed it was too much to ask for a little courtesy, and so she pushed the chair back herself and settled lightly onto it.

Adopting a subtle duchess' slant, she pressed her legs together and angled them toward one of the chair legs. "What is it I can do for you, Mr. Rook?" Natasi asked conversationally, lifting her chin -- though it wasn't clear whether this was a movement of defiance, or if she was simply trying to see Rook better.

Veshok Rook | Jenn Kryze​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Tor Valum, Fortan's Cell
| Objective | Interrogate

Rather than heading right in for the interrogation, Jenn had made something of a detour - namely, to debrief the Guildmaster of the Enclave as to the nature of her actions during the boarding of the Ans Corvo. A half-success it may be, Vren was pleased with her catch nonetheless, putting her in charge of the interrogation and advising her to take someone else with her. Fear and all of the tools to achieve it were on the table - but the Nite Owl had made it abundantly clear that she would go no further. Not that the captive was informed of such reservations, of course: besides, she seemed pitifully unaware of just what Mandalorian culture entailed.

Her thoughts were occupied with who to bring with her, naturally. Perhaps a more forceful voice, standing in contrast to her own, might get her what she wanted - her thoughts danced about, already considering which of the ardent Crusaders to pick... she was already considering what to send to the Alor'ad of Clan Saxon when suddenly, another idea came to her mind. A new face to those on Kestri, and most likely unknown by the SIA - that was exactly what she needed. Sending word to Veshok Rook ahead of time and instructing him to head over to Tor Valum immediately to assist her in the interrogation of a prisoner, the Protector made sure to mention that she was hardly intended to command him as one would a subordinate: the Guildmaster had merely given her leave to pick an adequate partner to lead the interrogation.

She had little need for information on Senator Fortan: she had been the one to ask for the file to be put together, frustrated as she was with the Galactic Alliance's dominance when it came to surveillance and espionage. The Mandalorian Enclave was talented when it came to plucking out the eyes of unwanted observers, in no small part thanks to the rather private nature of Mandalorian culture: but the SIA was hopelessly ahead of them when it came to surveillance. Why, she suspected she already had a profile set up after her stunt aboard the Ans Corvo.

"I take it Rook already arrived?" asked the Protector to one of the guards, her query soon met with a firm nod. "Excellent."

Speak of the devil and it shall appear, as the saying went. Shortly after Natasi mentioned the dreaded figure, the door opened to reveal the form of the very same woman who had taken her captive, broken her nose, and made a ruin of Raphael Calgar 's eye. Bathed in such pure light as she was, the sense of danger did not quite fade away from her, turning that Y visor to regard her, before finally stepping inside.

Veshok was privy to the line of questioning she had in mind for their guest - and the natural inquisitiveness he had shown in return had been enough to convince her that she had made the right choice. She saw no reason to take the spotlight from him, walking on over to the opposite end of the table, staring down at the prisoner. And when her voice finally rose, it was quite the picture of calm and control.

"Senator Fortan. I see you have recovered."

​

Natasi Fortan Veshok Rook ​

 

[Veshok Rook]

The Welcome Interview​

An ever so slight, but quite noticeable, chill crept up his spine when he first met the Senator's cold gaze and frosty demeanour. Vesh' expression, however, did not change - he remained stoic and unmoved. His expression mattered little though: For his face was hidden behind a dark t-visor.

When the woman asked for Jenn, his mouth opened to speak. Right before any words had managed to slip out, the captor arrived. The doors swooshed open, once more letting the bright clinical light from the corridor flood in. Already expecting her arrival, Vesh didn't turn to look and simply waited for the door to close. His arm slowly shot up with an open palm to point in Jenn's direction as he gave Fortan a deep nod, wordlessly answering her question.

Vesh approached the table with his fellow Mandalorian. Following Jenn's lead, he positioned himself on the opposite end of the table to Senator Fortan. Unlike the Kryze, however, he took a seat and leaned back comfortably as he produced a datapad, scanning its contents for a few moments before answering the question that had been sent his way. "First off, you can call me Vesh." he spoke like he always did, voice low and with a reserved tone. "Might be a bit intimate for a core world senator but I'd appreciate it" From the look of how his head was tilted, it might have appeared as if he was looking down at the datapad, but in truth, his eyes were fixed on her, closely watching her every expression, in particular upon speaking of her as a core world senator.

Tilting his head back up for the visor to point at her, Vesh sat back up straight and continued "I would like for you to answer a few questions for me. If you notice any inaccuracies in the questions themselves, just let me know, okay?"

What followed were a few basic questions to establish a baseline. He had no lie detector but even then, it was a safer option than taking a deep dig from the get-go. Between the questions, the broad-shouldered Mandalorian would pause to give her a chance to answer, perhaps take a few notes and then proceed to ask the next question. For this part, he would offer no follow-up questions. For most questions, the Mandalorians already possessed the answers, either through the use of public records, or by conducting a minor investigation. Some of them, however, were still unknowns.

"You are the Senator for Aegis. For how long have you served?"

"Your previous positions, what were they?"

"Immediate family? No need to give us any names if you don't want to."

"Which boards and committees do you serve on?"

"Education: Which university did you go to?"

"Do you have any pets?"

"Your vote on the war, what was it?"

"Which planet did you visit last, before coming to this one?"

"Your personal shuttle, what model is it?"

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi's attention went to the door when it opened again, and the Senator recognized the armor on the woman who entered. Jenn Kryze had made at least three mortal enemies when she had attacked the Corvo. Whether the Galactic Alliance would find a tinker's damn to give about her capture or not, she was certain that the bonds of comradery she and Raphael Calgar would make them fast friends, and that wasn't even considering the fact that this monster had mutilated him. And there was Natasi herself, probably the least dangerous of this trio of Kryze's enemies. Dyrn Grav was almost certainly the most dangerous of the three.

He was probably on his way already. Natasi could see his face in her mind's eye, contorted with fury. It would strike terror in most people, but in it Natasi saw nothing but safety.

Or perhaps she was simply consoling herself.

"Ms. Kryze," she said in a reasonable facsimile of warmth, though her words were not as elegantly parsed as the ones she had traded with the Mandalorian aboard the diplomatic ship. Her mouth was not what it once was; several of her teeth had remained on the Corvo, after all, and her face still felt swollen and pained from its repeated interactions with the Mandalorian's beskar'gam's fists, despite the medical treatment she had received. "I'm so pleased you could make the time."

Natasi was sharp, but her memory was by no means eidetic. The only effort she made to disguise her studying of Kryze's armor was a look of barely-veiled disdain. But she didn't disapprove, not really; she wanted to remember every detail, to be able to describe it. Whether to Dyrn Grav or to the Strategic Intelligence Agency or a bounty hunter hired with her own gold, she wanted to be able to give them every last detail.

Her attention turned back to Rook as he started his opening gambit. She offered him a tight smile -- so as to avoid showing off any gaps in her teeth -- and said in a vaguely conversational tone: "I find it's better in these situations to avoid getting too invested in one's opponents, if it's all the same to you, Mr. Rook. In my experience, when one of us ends up as a bloody smear on the wall, it's better if there's not too much messy emotional fallout." There was no threat there, merely a frank discussion of the realities of war, but there was something to be said for the fact that Natasi Fortan had been a player on the galactic stage for some seventy years, and here she was. Not a bloody smear.

Not yet at any rate.

"You would like me to answer some questions," Natasi repeated to Rook, her voice level. "How clever. Perhaps I could be convinced to play along, but I have some questions first. Not that the answers to them will reflect on what I am willing to tell you about your questions. But for the sake of argument let's pretend that you people are the honorable warriors of the old days -- of course we three know better, don't we? -- but let's just pretend. Level with me; what is our endgame? Is this a ransom situation or is it more of a 'send you back in a box' scenario, or somewhere in between?"

Her eyebrows lifted a little, as if they were discussing the results of a second-tier polo match and not what could have been the very short remainder of Natasi Fortan's life.

Veshok Rook | Jenn Kryze​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Tor Valum, Fortan's Cell
| Objective | Interrogate

Jenn was quite aware of the consequences she would face for her boarding of the Ans Corvo. Meddling with Senators was not exactly the secret to a long and fulfilling life, after all: frankly, she could have done without the attention of the SIA, but after the escape of Senator Calgar, there was simply no getting around the fact that she would spend the rest of this war, if not the rest of her days looking over her shoulder in anticipation of the Alliance's reprisal. Or, more accurately, Natasi's reprisal. Even now, she could feel the woman's gaze resting on her beskar'gam, drinking every last detail, doubtlessly looking to sear the very sight into her mind so that she may give as accurate a depiction as possible to... however it was she relied on for rescue.

"My time is the least I can give you, Senator", came the Nite Owl's response. Her tone was calm, even... and, thanks to the speakers in her helmet, ever-so slightly difficult to read further than that. That was her only intervention at first: the last thing Veshok needed was for her to show him up during this... eyebrow-raising opener of an interrogation. Meaningless questions in the eyes of some - but mostly an attempt for him to get a feel for what he was working with, she suspected.

Frankly, she could understand the appeal behind the thought of killing her. Evidently, she was still here, and that testament to her longevity merely reminded the would-be Alor of the need to soundly crush some foes, 'lest they lick their wounds, rebuild, and shove a dagger in one's back at the worst possible time. A pleasant fantasy, brought about by the casual dismissal of not only her honor or Veshok's - but that of their entire people. An insult that always stung, to be sure, but one levelled so very frequently by all manner of fools that the weight it once held lost its meaning to her.

"Whether you are to be returned to the Galactic Alliance safely or to be surrendered to the tender mercies of the less patient interrogators among our people depends entirely on your conduct. Or, in terms a Senator would more easily understand, your usefulness. I have gone to great pains not to kill you before, and I would be so frustrated if you repaid such professionalism with pointless stubbornness."

She afforded Veshok a nod, giving him the room to continue if he so wished. Jenn had... quite a few scruples, to be sure, and lines she refused to cross. But Senator Fortan had no way of knowing that, and she intended to use that to her full advantage. And, if it came down to it... of all the Crusaders, the Alor'ad of Clan Saxon was the one who held her respect the most. Although the two could hardly be any more different, she somewhat admired her technique.

And the special touch she could bring to this "conversation" of theirs.

​

Veshok Rook Natasi Fortan Celt Saxon
​

 

[Veshok Rook]

The Welcome Interview​

Without any dramatic pauses or signs of irritation, Vesh let out a simple but curt "That's alright" upon hearing his first request denied. Hearing her speak of someone ending as a mess on the wall, he looked to his left, right at the wall the table was bound to before looking back at her. No answer was going to be given, but at least he'd give her a sideways nod, indicating that she had been heard.

The flurry of smaller questions wouldn't be launched just yet. For she interrupted him before he could start. Barely masked amusement spread across his features as she hurled the first insult at them. Where the seated Onderonian's expressions were well hidden behind a deep layer of practice and a trusty helmet, the voice of his fellow Mandalorian carried enough passion and conviction for the two of them. His gaze shifted away from both the datapad and the senator as he watched Jenn speak her mind.

When Jenn had finished, Vesh simply turned to look to the senator in silence - allowing the gravity of what had just been conveyed to sink in. After a while, he'd speak up softly "Let us try to avoid killing and maiming, shall we?" While it may have been easy to believe that the question was directed to Jenn, he was perfectly content with letting it remain as an unknown: For he had been looking at Fortan while asking the question. "So, let's get to the Q&A"

If the Senator didn't object once more, the questions that he had intended to ask previously would be asked now. If she objected again, he would stand up and cede his chair to Jenn whilst slowly moving away from the two of them.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi's gaze turned to Jenn; just who was running this interrogation? the Senator wondered. Great pains, indeed, Natasi thought derisively. Jenn Kryze had sustained some injury or another -- much less than she deserved for her crimes, as far as Natasi was concerned -- but great pains seemed rather gauche in the context of her interactions with the Senator. Calgar -- maimed, possibly blinded by the brute, and that was to say nothing of Natasi herself, who had experienced pains in ways that had made her taste colors for which the typically eloquent Galidraani aristocrat had no Basic words to describe.

Jenn had answered her question; Rook had not countermanded her. Did that mean she was holding his leash?

Her head canted to one side and she looked back to him. "I am the Senator for the Renascent Republic, the capital world of which is Aegis," she corrected him coolly. "I have held that position for about half a year. I am also the Supreme Leader of same, and Countess of Herevan in my own right. I was previously Supreme Leader of the First Order and before that -- notwithstanding a period of time I spent being quite deceased -- I was Grand Moff of the First Order. During my tenure as Grand Moff I was married to, and widowed from, my husband, the Duke of Foxfield, during which time I was the Duchess of Foxfield and I suppose, now, I am the Dowager Duchess of Foxfield, not that that sort of thing would matter much to you. Before I was Grand Moff, I was Moff of the Home Territories for the First Order. Before that, Governor of Dosuun. Before that, I was a private citizen. Lady Natasi Fortan, daughter of the Earl of Herevan on Galidraan."

The Supreme Leader was interested to learn that the Mandalorians kept their helmets on, even within their own facilities. Why? She supposed it must boil down to cowardice; even if it was strategic -- to avoid giving Natasi a look at their real faces -- it boiled down to the same thing.

Eyes lowered to the table as she folded her hands in her lap. "My mother and father are dead. My brother is dead. My husband is dead. My son is -- for our purposes -- dead." A beat. "My daughter is living. As to my boards and committees, I'm sure the details would bore you to tears. I am Chairman of the Fortan Philanthropic Foundation. I sit on the Galactic Alliance Federal Assembly's Defense Committee. I attended the University of Galidraan at Calavar and the Imperial Academy of Leadership. I have a dog."

The next question brought a sullen smirk to her lips. Were they trying to shame her for voting for the war against them? It almost made her laugh. "I voted in favor of the war," she informed them, her voice dropping some of its chill, instead adopting the tone of a disappointed mother talking to a disappointing child. "As I explained to your... associate ...hers were neither the first nor the most brutal Mandalorian war crimes I have been subjected to. I had hoped in the interim that working with the Galactic Alliance might have given your people some idea of what cooperation can achieve, but after Ryloth -- well -- despite my best hopes, I suppose I always knew a leopard cannot change its spots."

"As I'm sure you're aware," Natasi said after a brief pause. "My associate and I were visiting Ukatis on a diplomatic mission -- and a diplomatic vessel, which is where your little friend here -- " She jutted her chin derisively at Jenn " -- put her foot in it, so to speak. Don't worry, Ms. Kryze, the Galactic Alliance will handle your tribunal fairly and in the interests of justice I doubt they will ask me what I think ought to happen to you."

Her eyes went back to Rook. "Do you really think I'll give you the details of my personal ship?" At this, Rook earned a sardonic bark of laughter. "By any chance, are you related to Clan Australis?"

Jenn Kryze | Veshok Rook​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Tor Valum, Fortan's Cell
| Objective | Interrogate. Stay in control.

Jenn could not afford to lose control, no matter how infuriatingly arrogant the Senator was - and not only because it would it complicate the interrogation and reflect poorly on her Clan. Becoming Alor would demand much from her, and she could not afford to be short-tempered. It was with such thoughts in mind that she gave a nod in the wake of Veshok's soft words, hoping to further imbalance the prisoner by refusing to let her glean any sort of power structure from either of them. Keeping her guessing was a good bet, after all.

Natasi began to answer the questions asked of her by the younger warrior, and the Nite Owl watched every last shift of her expression intently, arms crossed as she stood by. Any pity she might have felt for the woman as she spoke of the losses she had incurred was quickly snuffed out as she reminded herself of what kind of parasite sat before her. Try as she might to remain calm, there was something about the Senator that kept on scratching against her patience, insistently so. Having her honor put into question all but lost its relevance when the person insulting her proved to be well and truly beneath her, in truth: but the realization of just how enduring this woman was infuriated her.

"I have no intention of surrendering myself to the Galactic Alliance. There will be no tribunal", answered the Mandalorian firmly, struggling to keep her tone free from the sheer disgust she felt for that woman, slowly walking from her position on the opposite side of the table, each and every step bringing her closer to Natasi - until she stood behind her, and let out a laugh one might almost call melodious, if not for how derisive it truly was. A good way for her to hide the searing hatred consuming her thoughts. "Just so I understand this correctly... the former Supreme Leader of the First Order thinks she possesses the moral high ground to pass judgement upon the Mandalorian people? What a sick joke. But then again, such is the nature of the Galactic Alliance, isn't it? By letting the most loathsome of individuals join them, they ensure that the rot cannot be excised. It poisons the rest of the tree, but they don't care about that - about the evil of those who join their ranks, because all that matters to those fiends is power. They take, and take, and take until it kills them, and once they're gone, someone else takes their place, and they're diseased, too. The longer you stay, the deeper the virus goes."

SHUK!

The sound of a knuckle plate vibroblade emerging.

"You will give the information requested by my brother, or I will make sure that Senator Calgar is not alone in his fate. You hardly need your sight to answer questions."

The anger was genuine, and her voice could no longer hide it now - but the threat was not. A failure on her part to keep her cool, to be sure, but an opportunity presented to her as well. Letting the Senator think of her as a brute resorting to violence as a first response to any sort of pique was an advantage: those who looked down on others hardly ever showed the proper amount of wariness, after all, and she would exploit this woman's sneering disdain for her and the rest of her kind.

​

Veshok Rook Natasi Fortan Celt Saxon ​

 

[Veshok Rook]

The Welcome Interview​

The plan did not change. No follow-up questions would be asked - not right away at any rate. From Vesh' end, there was silence and the occasional nod to recognise that the Senator's words have been heard. A subtle encouragement for her to go on. Whether her answers were seen as right or wrong or if they revealed any new information would remain unsaid. For from passive, however, the seated Mandalorian made himself busy taking notes. Most of the time, the notes would appear to consist of short words or phrases. The light taps on the datapad increased somewhat when she elaborated on her views on Mandalorians.

Then came another insult: The Senator asked if he was related to less reputable Mandalorians of a by gone era. Behind the mask, Vesh' expression remained unmoved - but then, the insult had barely been uttered before Jenn intervened, both defending herself, her people and launching a verbal assault on the systems of the core worlds. For a short moment, he leaned back into his chair whilst keeping his eyes on the Senator.

What caused him to shift in his seat was how he saw his ally slowly but surely close in on the captive. He listened to her tone and her words. He allowed his visor to gaze into the void between the two women but his eyes were fixed on Jenn's limbs. He was a warrior, through and through - and something had caught his attention. Slowly but surely, the legs that he had planted comfortably infront of him shifted back, ready to propel him up at a moments notice and he sat up straight, almost leaning forth whilst putting his free hand on the table.

The sudden sound of Jenn producing a weapon had his fingers twitch and legs tense but he managed to remain still in all other aspects. Without changing where his helmet pointed, he let out a pleading "It's just a ship," his head turned to the senator and he completed the sentence "answer the question, please."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi's spine stiffened. She didn't recognize the weapon by its sound alone, but she recognize the preparing of a weapon when she heard one.

She hooked her arm over the back of the chair and half-turned to stare into the Y-plate of the Mandalorian behind her, her gaze contemptuous, her mouth in a smirk of derision. She tried not to gape at the weapon Jenn Kryze now brandished. Do not show fear. Do not show weakness. Luckily for Natasi she had decades of experience in projecting a false confidence.

"I had no intention of becoming a hostage to a horde of backwater hooligans," the Senator said conversationally. "Yet here we are. You overwhelmed my diplomatic vessel with military force and overtook two -- with great respect for my colleague -- essentially hapless senators. My will compared to yours? Nothing. Your will compared to the galaxy's only superpower?" She lifted her eyebrows. "I'll come and visit you in prison, Ms. Kryze. Or perhaps I'll be dead. That won't change the fact that thugs like you always face justice, one way or another."

Her slender shoulders shrugged, as if her death was of no consequence to her. She'd been dead before, after all.

"As for the rest of your adolescent outbreak: you don't know me. You don't know the first thing about me if you can describe me in those terms," Natasi said. She fixed her gaze on an invisible spot over Veshok Rook 's right shoulder, opposite the table. "I lack both the inclination and the monosyllabic vocabulary to explain it to you in terms you could possibly comprehend, so allow me to put it in a way that you might."

Natasi inclined her head. Some might call the gesture smug, but for Natasi Fortan it was merely good posture. And a response to fear. Despite her icy exterior, the Senator was afraid. Her bravado was based on the theory that Mandalorians would respect strength, but if that didn't work -- well, there was no Plan Besh.

"I wish you bloody would," she said, her voice like cold durasteel. Her tone shifted, more conversational, and it was clear then she was addressing Veshok Rook . "I've said all I intend to on that subject. You can move on to your next question."

Jenn Kryze | Veshok Rook​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Tor Valum, Fortan's Cell
| Objective | Bring out the Chemical Alor'ad.

For a moment, Jenn merely pondered how best to proceed. If she moved quickly enough, Natasi wouldn't even see the blade coming, and find herself with a scar ruining that pretty face of hers- and one less functioning eye. It would be so easy, so satisfying... and completely beyond her. For all of her faults, the Nite Owl was not a butcher, and maiming a prisoner, no matter how loathsome they might be, went against everything she believed in. Was this wily opponent aware of this? Was she banking on exploiting her sense of honor, and Veshok's as well? For all of her arrogance, she had to admire how clearly that jumped-up politician navigated this little "chat" without letting on anything that could be used against her.

Evidently, she had to change her strategy. The vibroblade was pulled right back inside with but a shift of her fingers, and the Mandalorian turned that Y visor of hers towards Veshok, silently pondering whether she should let him stay or not. Loathe as she was to resort to such a desperate measure, Natasi had made her bed. Now, it was time for her to lie in it.

<Hail, Celt, Alor'ad of Clan Saxon. I am afraid I require your expertise in this interrogation. You may find the recalcitrant prisoner in Cell Block B.>

And with that message sent out, she crossed her arms and waited, standing behind Natasi as she did so. Did she have any reservations? Of course she did. Refusing to maim a prisoner was all well and noble, but calling for someone else to get them to talk was... dubious, to say the least. The Crusader would not quite show the same restraint she had, that much she knew. Still, she held a certain degree of respect for the Alor'ad and her methods: hopefully she would understand the importance of this prisoner, and the effort she had gone through in order to acquire her.

​

Veshok Rook Natasi Fortan Celt Saxon ​

 

[Veshok Rook]

The Welcome Interview​

Throughout their interactions, the overarching theme of Vesh' approach might have appeared somewhat tame. The senator had said much and hurled many insults at both the individuals she was interacting with and their brethren. Meanwhile, calm and reserved, Vesh had oftentimes remained silent with eyes laser focused on the Senator. He had been interacting with aristocracy and business elites from an early age. This was home turf for him. It was only when Jenn approached Fortan that his otherwise relaxed posture seemed to shift a little.

The theme stood the test of time: For the insults continued raining down upon them. The personal state of affairs and a rather over threat of violence did little to deter the seasoned - but captured - woman. Eventually, she made an attempt at taking control of the interview, instructing Vesh to move on to the next question. Behind the mask, two impressed brows rose, accompanied by an amused smirk. The natural thing would be to lean back once more, but instead, Rook remained in a subtle readied position, back straight, legs prepared to propel him up and a hand resting on the table.

A few uncomfortable moments went by as the room turned painfully silent. Fortan was looking to him with an air of superiority whilst Jenn hovered over her. He was content in letting the visor participate in the stare-down on his behalf. Finally, Jenn sheathed her weapon and made a call to hail Celt Saxon. Vesh' gaze carefully wandered to his ally as if wondering what exactly she had in mind before returning to the captive with a short statement "I will give you a free pass on this one"

Vesh looked down onto his datapad and clicked a button, letting the clock tick before looking back up at the Senator with a matter-of-factly piece of advice "I recommend that you use my free passes sparingly." He clicked a few more buttons at the lower end of the screen before letting off a more personable few lines with an air of 'just having remembered to mention something' "Oh, right, Natasi: If we were a horde of adolescent, backwater hooligans, you'd already be dead or whimpering in pain. Or soon to be, at any rate. You are well aware of this. You could just be throwing empty words at us - but I don't think you are: You are far too arrogant and spiteful for that. And if that isn't the case, what you are showing us is just a facade to hide your fear. At least that's what I think."

He leaned back in his chair and kept a curious gaze on her, on how she'd react. The pause would be brief before he returned to his normal reserved and low tone with a question. "As part of the defence committee and as a former Moff, I expect you to have insight regarding the Alliance's war plans, as they were before your capture. Please elaborate. In particular, I would like to know about attack plans and logistical priorities."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

For a moment, as Kryze's weapon shuk'd its way back into its sheath, Natasi Fortan felt the most undignified urge to make chicken noises. Something about Mandalorians apparently brought the worst out in her. First, vomiting in front of a stranger; then, using profanity like bloody, and now this? But thankfully she got a hold of herself before she got carried away. It seemed that Kryze had decided at last to behave with some decorum and it would be unwise, Natasi thought, to undo all that personal growth.

Instead, Natasi regarded the Mandalorian opposite her placidly as he spoke about free passes. She didn't answer at first, merely listened to his analysis of the situation. The man was spot-on, of course, not that Natasi Fortan had the slightest inclination of confirming that to him. She thought that the Mandalorians had altogether too much self-esteem to be getting along with without contributing more.

"We're meeting now for the first time, Mr. Rook," Natasi said, in the tone of a professor rehashing the reading that her students hadn't completed as assigned. "And though I can applaud you, certainly, for your apparently non-violent means of communication, I'm sure there's something in your little file there about the condition in which I was brought to this facility. The terms 'fractured cheekbones' and 'broken nose' were bandied about. And I counted at least six teeth removed from my mouth by your... associate. I'd have to confirm with my dental records to be sure, of course." She leaned forward and favored the man with a cool gaze. "Not to mention, I have a long history with your people. A long history that involves your people's complete disregard of the rules of war -- " and here, she held up a hand, extending her index and ring finger. " -- twice. Now, twice doesn't seem like a lot but it all depends on the context, doesn't it? In the context of war crimes, twice is a lot. At some point it stops being a coincidence and starts to be a modus operandi, wouldn't you agree? So why don't you spare me, please, the 'sticks and stones' bit and convince your vode that the rest of us will start treating you like grown up, cosmopolitan citizens deserving of a seat at the galactic table when you start acting like it."

The Senator inhaled sharply and shook her head. These savages are going to be the death of me, she thought -- and for once, the irony was lost on her.

The next question prickled, and the Supreme Leader once more tilted her head coquettishly. Her tone conversational once more; inquisitive, even. "I'm sorry -- I must not be hearing you correctly. I believe you just asked me to divulge non-public information regarding the Galactic Alliance's military strategy with you but... surely not?"

Jenn Kryze | Veshok Rook​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Tor Valum, Fortan's Cell
| Objective | Watch the Alor'ad at work

For her part, Jenn merely watched the interrogation unfold between Veshok and Natasi from behind the Senator, appreciating how well the newest member of Clan Rook acquited himself in the dangerous waters the both of them were treading. Although he kept his cool (unlike her, a fact that hung over her heavily), the young vod knew when to apply some measure of persuasion: by proving himself to be firm, yet polite, he took on an approach she could only respect and appreciate. Perhaps calling for the Chemical Alor'ad of Clan Saxon had been too hasty on her part...

But, as soon as that thought came to her mind, she found Veshok's more sensitive query met with more infuriating words spoken by their captive, and all reservations she might have felt were buried deep once more. Turning her head towards the door leading into the cell as it slid open, Jenn welcomed Celt's arrival with a respectful nod... and a lift of her brow. An interesting turn of events, by all means, as she found those three syringes revealed, each one resulting in a different reaction, if the Alor'ad was to be believed. And she had no reason to doubt her word.

It was a lesson, she realized. Administering the Skirtopanol and getting the required answers out of that woman would be far easier - and it would take all choice out of her hands. No, by ensuring that her defiance lead directly to a roll of the dice in terms of her punishment, Natasi would have no choice but to metaphorically dig her own grave.

Barbaric as the entire notion of employing such a neurotoxin was to her, Jenn could not help but admire the elegance behind Celt's plan. Which, naturally, only made it more difficult for her to think on how she could justify it all to herself, and to her own perception of honor. All she could do now was stare in silence as she walked back around the table by Celt's side, ensuring that the Senator stared down all three of the Mandalorians.

It was just like she said...

The decision was for Natasi Fortan to make.

​

Veshok Rook Natasi Fortan Celt Saxon ​

 

[Veshok Rook]

The Welcome Interview​

Just like before, Vesh listened patiently as the senator spoke. From the outside, he did not seem to move a muscle. Behind the mask, two disappointed brows rose tiredly as she once more fell into a rant on how terrible Mandalorians were. Still, he was there to listen to her, and so, she would be allowed to continue until she was finished. With a low and professional tone, he clarified his stance "I was not trying to garner your favour. Natasi, I was trying to tell you that you don't need to put on a brave face for us." Perhaps her aristocrats acted differently than those of Onderon - but if they were anything alike, the gist of what he was trying to say would likely have been conveyed now.

The interview continued but it was proceeding at a snail's pace. Just as he asked the first sharp question, the Senator immediately offered resistance. Vesh barely managed to utter a curt "Yes" before the doors swooshed open once more.

Celt Saxon entered the chambers after just having observed the exchange from the adjacent control room. Vesh' gaze remained unmoving as he continued to watch Natasi. While it might have been interesting to study how Celt operated, the only relevant subject of observation in this setting was Senator Fortan. Still, he listened intently to what was being presented. A choice between an uncomfortable loss of control, torture or speaking. His grip on the datapad tightened - any harder it there was an actual risk of damaging it. Incredulous eyes shifting towards Jenn hid behind the t-visor.

The burst of emotion would quickly subside into nothingness. Without a word, Vesh waited until Celt was done before he quietly stood up and pocketed the datapad - thus ceding the seat to someone else. With slow and controlled steps, he walked around the table. He positioned himself behind the senator's chair with his hands wrapping around the top of the backrest, inadvertently pushing his knuckles into the Senators upper back. Leaning in to her left, he let out a low "Natasi, this is your chance to stay in control."

Vesh then stood back up straight - this was now firmly Celt show. If the second option was chosen, Vesh would intervene to grab the wrist of whoever was just about to administer it.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi's attention was momentarily drawn away from Rook when the door opened and yet another Mandalorian -- presumably -- entered the room and began yammering about the plight of the poor, put-upon Enclave. She returned her dark gaze to Rook's helmet, giving him a look that implied a lack of enthusiasm for the theatrics. As if they were the two grown-ups in the room, witnessing an ill-disciplined child throw a tantrum. She knew he didn't regard the situation that way, but Natasi Fortan didn't need a truth serum to express this particular truth, and between the three of them, Rook was the only who hadn't either performed or threatened bodily injury to her person, and that was something, at least.

When the newcomer finished off her historically-illiterate tirade and began to explain the delights she had in store, Natasi straightened to examine the contents of the box as if she had just been presented with a collection of exquisite chocolates. Her left hand found the cuff of her right sleeve and, despite the tremble in her fingers, she unbuttoned it, beginning to roll it up with the air of a woman making herself comfortable. Slowly but steadily exposing the alabaster of her forearm, then up past her elbow, eventually directing her attention to study Celt. Memorizing everything she could about the woman's appearanc, equipment and armor. If this went the way Natasi feared it would, there would be as much need of justice for Celt as there was already for Kryze.

Adopting a polite, conversational tone, she inclined her head to Celt Saxon . "I certainly hope your grasp of pharmaceuticals and chemistry is better than your understanding of history, Ms. -- what was it? Or perhaps you don't know who I am; perhaps you can borrow the notes from a classmate. I believe Mr. Rook has been quite diligent in transcribing the discussion. To recap: I was not involved with anything relating to whatever tawdry little rebellion you're describing and the First Order, as far as I am aware, was never inclined to the use of torture on prisoners of war."

Another triumph of the famed Mandalorian educational system, Natasi mused internally, a faint smirk coming to her lips as she continued rolling up her other sleeve. Her voice turning wistful, then: "In fact the only prisoner of war I'm aware of personally was Jaius Sovv who was afforded every courtesy. He was my guest and we spent a great deal of time together; I didn't want him to come to any harm being housed in a prison, you see, because whatever his crimes as the Chief of State I had made certain assurances to him to ensure that no harm would come to him while pending his tribunal." Natasi paused a moment. "Now Sovv -- he admitted to orchestrating the old Alliance's attack on a civilian space station resulting in the deaths of many hundreds and I somehow managed to control myself from injuring him or drugging him or torturing him -- or indeed even threatening to torture him -- unless you count beating him so badly at chess that he had to resort to cheating counts as torture."

Natasi paused a moment, glancing around at the three briefly as she crossed her arms around her trim midsection. "You see, chess is -- oh, I think it would take too long to explain. Suffice it to say it's a board game. At any rate he found his way free of my hospitality with all of his bones and teeth in tact. We got to be rather good friends, I thought, by the end of it, though reasonable minds may differ. But I suppose that kind of respect and honorable behavior isn't present in all... cultures."

The Senator finally finished rolling her sleeve up as far as it would go, arms now bare almost to the shoulder. By then, Veshok Rook had maneuvered behind her, his armored fingers had curled into the back of her chair, brushing her between her shoulder blades. At his murmured words, she forced a sardonic half-smile; despite that half-smile, her words were almost sad when she murmured back: "We've been honest with one another so far, Mr. Rook. Let's not start telling lies now. I have no control in this room." She inclined her head to Celt once more and offered her an inquisitive look that, she hoped, didn't betray her fear. Oh, Natasi Fortan was desperately afraid of what would happen then, but she was sure it wasn't for the reason her three captors had in mind.

Well, that was the end of her vamping material, and Natasi Fortan was still faced with a choice; the choice that her long-winded responses had given her time to consider. And yet, even after all that time, she couldn't be sure. Finally, she sighed and said, "The Galidraani aristocrat in me wants to put on a brave face and say in for a penny, in for a pound. The Supreme Leader in me wants to spit in your eye and say do your worst. I suppose I will be a conciliator and embrace my sense of adventure to say -- surprise me." Unfolding her arms, she laid them, palms up, on the table. She tried desperately to keep her hands from shaking. "Will these suit for an injection site, Miss?"

Celt Saxon | Jenn Kryze | Veshok Rook​