When the Galaxy Ends [ Omega Protectorate & Omega Pyre ]

[Sarge Potteiger]

Stepping into what amounted to a small apartment, Sarge found himself blinking and looking around. Seriously? No one had noticed the gigantic gap in the building plans? Someone was going to get an oppressively stern glare later. Probably multiple someone's. His attention shifted around, looking to papers - a bed? This explained so much! - and then fell to the woman who was swiftly becoming the woman he'd fallen in love with.

At least partially, anyway. She was quite a good deal more than before.

Blinking, he moved over to the desk to scan over papers that hadn't been touched in literal years. "That it is, [member="Cira"]." He says quietly. "Every single person in this galaxy is living proof." Looking up at her, void black eyes drifting over her face briefly, he turned back to digging in to what had been offered up to him. To think that not even a decade ago his eyes had been normal, the color of chocolate.

But Dagobah had ruined so much.

Change was inevitable, but in many ways it was just a river. You just had to follow it downstream, through rapids and shallows. "At least now I know where you went all those years."

 

[Rekha Kaarde]

[SIZE=12pt]Location: Bespin[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]The Underground Bar[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Rekha stood looking out at the skies, the clouds as they slowly swept by her mind swept by with them.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]What was she going to do? She could stay here, and wait.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Wait for?? She asked herself.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]The next landlord. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=12pt]She groaned slightly she was finally feeling good about everything in her life, the ship, the bar, the people that came in every day looking for a drink and conversation.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Feth she sighed.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Then she closed her eyes, she reached back trying to rub the tension from her neck as she thought about what to do. Where was [member="Dekkan Fray"] she wanted to know what he was doing, maybe she could move the bar there?[/SIZE]

 

[Pravis Sharman]

Location: Fondor​

What a fething mess.

Pravis Sharman was never a high-ranking member of the Omega Protectorate, heck, he never even played a major role within the Protectorate. However, the Netherworld changed all of that. The faction he had once proudly served had become a shell of what it once was. Many of the worlds it had once protected had left, and trillions of Protectorate citizens had perished. He felt a guilt that he wasn't there to help his brothers in arms during their time of need. Instead, he was off being a poor and pathetic mercenary, not caring whoever hired him or what his job was. Pravis needed to go back to the Protectorate.

"Kark. Need more whiskey." Pravis muttered to himself, after taking a long and slow drink from his flask.

The Protectorate was my home for a bit. I should...Help out.

The first course of action, was contacting his old commanding officer.

[member="Noah Corek"]

 

[Cira]

"That's a matter of perspective." Cira would say quietly, her brow furrowing slightly as she would slow her saunter. In her mind there were fleeting shadows of her -- right here -- countless hours, days, weeks, months... years.

The frown would deepen, and she would come to trail the tips of her fingers against the grain of the bodywood desk. "There are many screens and veils behind these walls." It was a curious thing to say, but the woman was getting more and more introspective with each passing day. Her chest rose as she took a deep breath; such thoughts were for other times, she mused giving a slight shake of her head.

"Then what is the plan?" she would ask him directly, the twin embers of her eyes lifting to settle upon his. "I created Omega Pyre on Fondor and spread the corporate hold onto Thyferra and Abregado-rae. With HK having encouraged democracy on the latter, that means that there is only Fondor and Thyferra to be concerned about. The shipyards are the Pyre's... as is all the relative technology. As much as the Protectorate is a government entity, the separation of it and the Pyre was always there."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

There was a pause as she walked, almost literally, through her past. It was a familiar feeling he got going down Lake Country roads, sun high, a few wisps of clouds floating across the sky. It was always the cool caress of the summer's breeze, carrying with it the whiff of running water from nearby creeks that drew him home. A home he'd not seen in so very long. Shifting his attention, he moved into the seat next to the few stairs that led down to a bed.

No wonder she had seemed like she never left. She likely never truly had.

All the answers to her were in places like this, but answers weren't what he wanted. What he wanted was her, comfortable. Once she felt safe in her own skin, he could get what he wanted.

Leaning back, one leg folding over the other to rest atop his knee, he tapped a booted foot on the floor. "HK had years to do that. Years we don't have. Fondor has always been run by whoever controls the shipyards, and that's the Pyre. So there's Fondor taken care of. That leaves us Thyferra. Both of these worlds are critically important to anyone with access to them, and we both know who will get here first."

Part of him feared for his safety when they arrived. Part of him feared for hers. They were both too attached to these ideas to simply leave. "So far as I'm aware, Thyferra is also still run by the Pyre. So our options are fairly limited so far as short term solutions are concerned. I'm not a politician, nor am I truly capable of leading a government as it should be lead. I'm a soldier, we've always known that.

Which means we hold the line. The Protectorate, as a government, dissolves. A lot of the systems we've protected have already started pushing for their own planetary defense forces, something we have allowed them to do. While it may not be as cheap as hiring us, in the long term the benefits for their worlds are likely better. There's more pride in fighting for your own home and people than someone else's, after all.

So with the government going away, that leaves the Pyre to step into the perceived void on Thyferra. The rest of the worlds? Well, they're already in control of themselves too. While we were nominally a government, it was more we were a hired government, paid to step in and run things because they couldn't - the Plague was unkind to us all. So, in effect, we were the substitute teacher until the real one got off of sick leave."

There came a smile at that. "But I'd like to hear your thoughts. I can't much say this is something I had really, truly, considered until recently."

 

[Cira]

Another deep breath would fill her lungs; she held it there a few seconds, letting her thoughts percolate through the thick fog of her mind. There was much to do. To plan. Did it have to be this way? Her mind was a cacophony of questions and queries. Doubts and all that came in between.

That exhale that came from her would be slow and heavy; what do I have to add? Where to begin? Her fingers went gripping the back of her leather chair, pulling it out for her to sit on. A heavy weight seemed to fill her as she sat down, as if that of the entire universe and all its sins bore down on her shoulders. Her hand drew up, lids closing, fingers pinching at the bridge of her nose as a dull ache rose.

"The shift in planets taking over their own defenses started a long while ago. We were never meant to be a permanent solution; we were just the only solution at the time." another deep breath would fill her lungs with the scent of old filmsi and tomes. It was familiar as it was strange.

"What of the company?" she asked, still rubbing the bridge of her nose as she brought to the attention the business end of Omega Pyre. The Bacta factories, Star Caf, Star Co.... the textiles and mining operations. Omega Pyre wasn't merely a private military contractor anymore; it had grown into something more than that. It had a galactic presence in the core worlds as well as the colonies. Perhaps not as large as other companies, but it had its merits.

What were her thoughts? Simply to make sure everything was organized and that they would have a plan.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

He had never quite seem her exasperated before. Annoyed? Sure. Angered? Certainly. Exasperated? Weighed down? Exhausted? Not really. Perhaps it was his lack of a plan that did it, but sometimes gears started turning before you realized the machine was even on, and there was no stopping that train once it started rolling. Chewing on his lower lip, he folded his hands in his lap, unsure how to respond for a moment.

"Company continues to do what it does. The Protectorate going away doesn't change the fact that it still makes all sorts of goods. But since you're asking, you've got a concern about said company.

What is that concern.

I cannot answer what isn't actually asked."

 

[Cira]

"What is the status of all the factories? The Tibanna mines on Bespin? The vinecoffee and vine silk plantations on Belsavis?" came her first series of questions. Information was easy to pluck from the mind. Numbers. Facts. Details. Logistics. These were all the things Cira was able to grasp without a second thought. It was things of a far more personal nature that would always elude her. At least as Cira; in what she was now was a confusing cocktail of curiousities, fears, sins, and delights...

It was a heady trial for her to come together with. Different allies for different purposes. Each with a distinct role; a fracture of her personality. Now she had to take a reign to them all, some of which were in constant conflict with the other. Her lips purse. That shaft of pain only grew in her mind and she grave a grimace. Fingers would pinch harder at the bridge, massaging away the ache.

"The bacta factories? What is their status? What are our current contracts? Do we need to contact our clients to check up or do we have to go out there and get more?"

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"We'll need to expand if we want to fight a logistics war. So more contracts. The Pyre itself hasn't had fresh contracts in years - we've mostly subsisted off of what we had last you were in charge." He frowned at that, realizing the negligence therein. Standing up, he moved over to her and offered her a hand to take. He wasn't entirely sure why he did it, but he just... was.

She'd always made him do odd, uncharacteristic things.

Maybe his presence could offer her some comfort; some solace. He didn't know. "Everything is running, and everything is selling. We're in decent shape. But we have nothing groundshattering; we only have what we've always had." There came a frown. "No one has ever bothered the Pyre holdings. Most have left the Protectorate alone too. We may not have been an offensive force, but defensively we were a nightmare to confront."

Silently, he hoped to feel her hand slip into his. The warmth of her touch was something he'd always longed for in her presence.

 

[Noah Corek]

[member="Pravis Sharman"]

Noah sighed as he rubbed his eyes, for once and probably the only time in his life he felt sorry for Kerrigan. No wonder she was crazy, the amount of paperwork both electronic and physical was crazy, form for leave, forms for new equipment, budgeting who gets what cut of the contracts. It was driving Noah crazy.

Sighing and placing his datapad down after hearing his comm piece go off, he picked it up and answered. "This is Noah Corek, Colonel of the Omega Pyre. What do you need?" Noah answered, preferring to answer his calls himself and not to have a secretary.

 

[Pravis Sharman]

Pravis awkwardly scratched the back of his neck as he heard the tired and weary voice on the other end of the line answer his call. "Hello, this is former sergeant of the Omega Pyre Pravis Sharman calling in. I'm botherin' you to see if I can enlist back in the Protectorate." He inwardly cringed as he said the first words that came to mind. The Kaleesh was uncomfortable about contacting former commanding officer after he abandoned his post.

"If there's anything I can do to help...I'm willin' to serve." Pravis lamely spoke into the speaker.

[member="Noah Corek"]

 

[Cira]

She felt the warmth of his hand. The hear of his skin. The calloused pads of fingers worn weary from years of battles. Of war. Gold eyes fell on top of that large hand, dusted by hair and traced in scars. There was something rather surreal about it. About this moment. Two distinct facets would war. One would peer at this with listlessness, while the other would struggle with that tangible expression of comfort that she both craved as it did alarm her.

In the past, she would have moved away. Slipped silently to avoid the intimacy he was giving to her. In a different life, he too had reached over to squeeze her thigh and she had let him. What would she do now?

No answer came from her in response to his statement on the Pyre. Instead, the focus drew on this one precious moment. The verse grew fuzzy, and half hooded eyes rose to meet bottomless pools.

Delicately, fingers would curl upon his. Subtle. But there.

Yet spoke more than than any phrase in any known language would.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

If he'd expected anything, it wasn't to feel her hand touch upon his. Smooth, delicate skin at odds with his own slid like silk across stone. As cliche as it was, he could feel the breath catch in his throat, a pressure settle onto his chest that was both pleasant and startling at the same time. He almost forgot to exhale.

Almost.

Letting air out through his nose, he curled his fingers around hers in response.

Conversations were had in an instant, ones that the other party would never be privy too. Strange how that worked. Blinking at her, twin voids scanning hers for a moment, he almost bashfully looked down as though caught unawares. But that shyness was countered with a firm grip as he used the grip of her hand to guide her up to a standing position. "Perhaps it would be in the Pyre's best interest to become a purely security firm for the time being." He says, as though their conversation wasn't being held up by the silent woman before him.

This was their usual situation anyway, was it not? She would let him do the talking.

She would listen, and think, letting that beautiful mind of hers go through endless possibilities.

But while he'd never actually thought she'd listened to a word that had come out of his mouth, he had always held the secret hope that she had nevertheless enjoyed hearing them.

 

[Cira]

Most may not believe that she would listen. but she did. She always did.

The image of the Lady Protector, Prex, even 'Cira', the would be symbol of the Pyre and Protectorate before she fell from grace, had always listened. Perhaps for too long and a little bit too well. She took every consideration, concern, and detail with a seriousness of a scholar. With the weight upon her shoulders of decisions that she knew would affect billions of worlds.

His strength would draw her to her feet, and for a moment, despite her height, she felt rather small beside his large frame. The moment would pass, and she would take a sharp intake of air, letting it fill her lungs. Clarity.

"The Pyre has always been a private military company -- that didn't change with the growth of the Protectorate." her lips would straighten into a thin line. "Becoming a pure security firm in its entirety is not too much of a change." Her head would turn, and she would draw away from him, needing to pace. Her hand would slip from his, cool air replacing the warmth that had once been there.

"With so many resources the Omega Defense Fleet has... we will need to consider the maintenance cost of upkeep. We won't be able to maintain them all. I am sure that decommissioning and utilizing the resources for other ventures would be wise. Perhaps retrofitting them into civilian models for creditflow.... or in any contracts, ensure that the maintenance of the fleet is also provided by the employer. "

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

As ever, she was there one instant and gone the next. A promise of serenity stolen by the reality of doubt. Her mind was working again, inner workings going overtime to figure out just what they would need to do. Behind every great man was a woman, they'd always said, and while he wouldn't consider himself 'great,' he could see the wisdom in those words now. She was far and away better suited to this than he.

"I never said it would be a big change." He says in a firm yet quiet voice. "Just that it would be a necessary one." If the Sith came calling, saying you were just there to provide security for CEOs and diplomats would make living easier than 'we fight wars for your enemies.' There came a nod, even as his hand cooled and he found himself letting her out to roam again. Perhaps this time she would come back of her own accord.

He would hold that hope close to heart.

"We can mothball some, decommission the others and sell the metal for a sum. We could even Katana a sizable portion in the event we find ourselves back in the governmental game in the future. But covered maintenance is a good plan." He frowns faintly.

"I get the distinct impression you should be running this, not I."

 

[Aeron Kreelan]

@Coran Starchaser

A small beep would garner Aeron’s attention. Swiveling her head, the two-toned blonde and umber haired woman stretched her neck to peer at her comm.

With a rather half annoyed press of her finger, the Prex of Omega Pyre would ask, “What?” After a moment, the low murmur would relay a few half incomprehensible words.

“Fine, I’ll be there in five.” she cut off the connection, shooting an exhale through her nose. A few taps of her fingers would sum up her thoughts and she made her decision.

Turning to the assistant beside her, she got to her feet.

“Get the Lord Protector. We’ve some chatting to do.” Granted, one doesn’t simply get the Lord Protector, and it would likely be some time before he would so magnanimously grace her with his presence.

For now, there was another appointment to be made. One with a rather upstart man she saw in a room spouting about sticking it to the Sith.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Another mission another dollar, but that wasn’t how Coren Starchaser worked. He wanted, like the rest of the Warbirds, missions that meant something, that they could sleep at night after doing. That they would feel they mattered and that furthered their own causes. Sure, this galaxy had a lot of crazy Imperials and none really matched Coren’s ideals, so he would have to take missions that worked for something that wasn’t restoring a (possibly) mythical figurehead like Thrawn to power over an Empire. On top of that, the writer had to make a pretend fuss because Coren had so many missions he’d been doing, but they were all in the same fashion.

To eliminate the crazy dark siders from the galaxy, end the One Sith and quell any lackluster Imperial warlords from coming to power. That was what he was hoping to gain from the Omega Pyre. Missions that kept him doing that, gave him new ways to send the Underground in and found new targets that needed a bit of freedom and liberation in the galaxy.

Not the Underground needed to send freedom by use of baradium bombs, but smuggling runs? Right up their alley.

As much as part of him knew who to expect, it still didn’t change the fact that he didn’t know the woman who was approaching, the so called Prex, all that well. She made her way to summit he hosted, but as he assumed with the Jedi, it didn’t make anyone pick up a weapon against the Sith. Seemed it was up to him. Still, when she stepped out of her office and approached, Coren was on his feet. Something about the whole atmosphere here struck the part of him that was former military and he stood straight back, legs together as he judged her gait, he’d respond accordingly.

Still, ever the wise-ass even when he was in uniform, half of the reason he found himself in Warbird Wing, where the people who were too useful to completely wash out and be discharged were sent, he smirked. “So, either I did somethin’ really good with my resume, or you just had to see me again.” It was his way of coping with nerves. Sometimes.

Coren Starchaser was like a parfait. He had layers.

[member="Aeron Kreelan"]

 

[Cira]

At that, Cira would pause. Twin bright embers aglow with almost ethereal light would swivel over to [member="Sarge Potteiger"]. Her eyes blazed with the brooding thoughts that came to her at that suggestion. Had she run the Pyre before? Yes. Had she birthed its creation? Yes. Had she also organized it to what it had become? Yes.

Had she also been at the root for millions of their deaths? Yes.

One cannot simply brush under the rug how her actions as Zhaera Shat had amounted to a terrible wake of bloodshed. With that loss came a fall from favor; she knew well that those that had once trusted in her would look upon her in suspicion. SHE looked at herself in suspicion. There was no denying that she was struggling to find her identity in the midst of being the Hydra Queen. And there was no denying that there was still a dark familiarity that would slither like a snake in the deep recesses of her mind.

“Decommissioning would take time. “ she stated plainly, for the now not voicing aloud the thoughts that she should be the one at the reins. “But it is time we have. It would be best to ensure nothing is done at a hurried pace lest anything could rear its head and catch us unawares.” using the metal or even selling it is good.

“We could sell it and market the salvaged metal with Omega, “ she meant the company, “ or maybe even make contracts with other companies that could profit from the metal -- establishing connections in turn. “

Her head swung to face her desk, and her arms would unconsciously cross themselves over her, as if she was cold. Or was it comfort? She began to rub her upper arms.

“Just what would your plan be for a Katana fleet?”

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge found himself wetting his lips, hands wringing together in an absent minded manner. "Sorry. Me and my big mouth." He mutters, eyeing the woman before him. As diligently as he ever had, he listened to her, but it wasn't until she held herself that he found himself without words.

Standing up quietly, he undid the buttons on his blouse and moved to drape it around her shoulders. While he didn't know it, she would find herself surrounded by a smell that had long been familiar; the evergreen musk of her erstwhile shadow.

Never before had she looked as vulnerable as she did in that moment, not even in the aftermath of being shot. She had been scared then, penned in. But vulnerable held a whole different flavor, one he noted as she rubbed at her arms.

She likely wasn't even cold, but he knew better than to enfold her in his arms. Contact with her had to be measured, and ultimately at a pace slow enough to ease her into being comfortable with it. Perhaps this was love - accepting and working with all the faults of the person you cared for, all without a murmur of complaint.

"We could easily slave a sizable fleet to the Leviathan, launch it into Wild Space. We keep a 'come homem signal safe somewhere and let it fly. It wouldn't be hard to manage." He says quietly, large frame standing just aside her shoulder.

 

[Rekha Kaarde]

Bespin

Sitting at the bar after closing hours

She needed a friend, pulling out the holo

Hey [member="Dekkan Fray"] what are you doing? I know same old thing, just a different day. How are the girls? Everybody still hanging on by a thread? Rekha was beating around the bush a bit but she always did when she wanted to talk serious.

Dekkan I need some advice and you're the one I'm turning to for it. You know what's going on within the organization and the movement everyone is making to protect their assets. Are you staying on Abregado-Rae?

That was a lot for the first message, she waited she knew it would take a little time for it to reach him and then he'd wait to respond to her when things were quiet in the diner.