CC: Circle of Freedom

[Medivh]

Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril

Word of the pending deal with the Empire reached Chandaar long before the republic envoys had returned. By the time they arrived, everyone had an opinion - a strong opinion.  For some, it was a clear win.  Ending the war, and expanding the choice of democracy to planets in the north.  To others, the Empire could not be trusted, and any deal shy of them dismantling every war ship was the road to disaster.

The views played out both in and out of the senate building, news commentators, no longer having any fresh material on protests of the FURA, were abuzz, talking about the pros and cons of the deal.

Senators Soldys, Ingrat, and Brim La, along with Secretary Brad Neis were standing before the Speaker Gil Leeds in his office. Senator Brim La was still fuming about the direction of the deal, still believing the imperials untrustworthy.  He had already made his own opinions clear to his fellow senators and the press, a fact that annoyed the others in the room.

"Mr. Speaker, I still oppose this deal. We were - are - on the verge of victory, where we can set the terms as we see fit.  How can we leave the Empire with Bastion?  And these inspections - routine inspections can routinely be avoided.  If anything, we need the ability to surprise inspections. Otherwise - "
Speaker Leeds raised a hand to halt the Mon Calimari

"I've read your reports - all of them, including your dissent to this agreement, Senator. I am fully aware of the risks. I have also prepared a series of proposed steps to counter the risks.  You are, of course, free to oppose this deal in the senate. Such is your right as a member.  But I urge you to remember the value of peace.  Mon Calimari suffered greatly under the Empire, it is true, but it can flourish better under peace than constant war.  All the Republic can. Please consider this deal carefully before opposing it"

"I will, Mr. Speaker. So long as you, and the rest of the senate consider it carefully before voting in favor"

"That is a fair agreement.  Now, turning our attention to the next step.
"The Emperor wishes to visit"

Speaker Leeds nodded.

"I think he needs to come here, to be certain. If we cannot have the leader of another sovereignty enter our space, peace with them is a pointless endeavor. Nonetheless, we must take every precaution. I don't want an honor guard fleet of star destroyers in orbit.  They will be permitted one capital ship - of their choice - auxiliary craft, for purposes of honor guard, and an honor guard fighter escort.  Anything else will be considered an act of aggression.

I have also diverted certain portions of the fleet to Chandaar to be present during the Emperor's stay. I don't want him knowing how many ships and platforms we keep as our standing force.  On all republic worlds, we are sending recon X-wings for extra patrols, to ensure no attempts to use his visit as a diversion.  I am also increasing deployment of the gravity well nets, to ensure nothing gets in or out of our space without proper inspections.

Turning to the visit itself, the Emperor may be a target for assassination - I won't have that on my watch. I will allow the Emperor twenty-four troops of his choice for his own personal guard, and will provide an additional escort of 50 Republic Special Force Troops.  He will be given quarters in N'Diya building, which is suitable for a foreign leader, and will also serve as the imperial embassy if and when the deal goes through. I have arranged for additional RSB patrols around the building.  Once the Emperor is here, he will have an opportunity to speak before the senate, with myself, and others in the diplomatic corp.  I'd also like to provide some forms of entertainment while he is here."

"There is a fashion show scheduled during his visit - several major labels are expected to attend"
"We can leave that option open, but I'm not sure of the Emperor's interest in clothing. He's a military man"
"Attractive women in flattering clothing ... I imagine most men would have an interest ... nonetheless ..."

The meeting went on for another half hour or so as logistics were planned, and the roles everyone would play.  When it was over, the speaker called for Artemis Soldys to stay behind.

"What did you think of their negotiator?  This Barrett Trevaithan?"

"He is young. Very young. And there are no reports of him in any role prior to this. To be honest, I don't know anything about him."
"Your report on him was ... interesting.  See what you can find out. It may be helpful"
"Of course, Mr. Speaker"

TBC

[Medivh]

Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril

The final preparations were being completed for the imperial arrival.  Security had been notably stepped up, and the protests - they had flared up again, against the peace deal - were (peacefully) relocated several blocks away from the Senate building.  The whole planet was gearing up for the visit, looking for new business or fighting against the arrival of the enemy.

And the upcoming visit left Artemis Soldys busier than usual.  He had his 'usual' matters to tend to: representing Corellia specifically and the sector in general; doing what he could to protect any scattered jedi, helping young and old find their way to the haven on the Patten ranch (since the last large group had been ferried away, he had found 1 middle-aged jedi knight two padawans, and about a dozen 'force sensitive' individuals, whose parents wanted them free of the restrictions applicable to Force users.  He was also continuing the fight against the Force User Registration Act, and the continued presence of republic scientists at the Centerpoint site.


But then he had the newest task that the Speaker had given him.  Barrett Trevaithan. Even with the assistance of Republic intelligence, Artemis had obtained little information on the young Barrett Trevaithan.  There were uncomfirmed reports that he had been a student at the imperial Tarkin academy on Byss, but nothing of schooling since at least two years ago, when Trevaithan was roughly 15 years old.  The RIA had uncovered no transcripts or records of degrees.  To be fair, they were treading lighter - signs that the Republic was conducting espionage would, if discovered, end the peace negotations.  But Trevaithan's file was still thoroughly empty.  The real question was how could a teenager have become such a high profile negotiator for the Empire? With no records of formal training or military experience?

A few speculated that Trevaithan was a bastard son of the Emperor, or some relation to him.  But nothing hard and fast.  And unknowns always left concern in the senator's thoughts.  The Emperor was a known - tactical genius who had moved up through the ranks until he led the imperial fleet just before Dementat's demise at the Battle of Centerpoint.  His service record had been readily available to anyone - imperial or not - long before he was anyone of note.  Barrett Trevaithan was still a mystery.

Hopefully, one that could be solved before it was too late.

TBC

[Medivh]

Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril

Surface, sky, and space were all abuzz with fanfare and security unmatched.  Nearly fifty percent of Chandaar's orbit had been restricted, with massive republic cruisers, small frigates, auxiliary craft, and fighers patrolling. Constantly.  In the sky over Ambaril, similar security, broken up only by confetti and streamers, flowing from droids going back and forth.  And on the ground, an entire division of republic troops as honor guard.  Shoes to helmet, shined and gleamed in the early morning sun.  Hundreds of senators and diplomats were on bleachers near the welcoming site.

Teams of anti-terrorism units had constant monitoring of every meter.  No stone left unturned.

The message finally came from orbital control.

"Sir, Imperial Star Destroyer Vigilance has exited hyperspace.  They are requesting permission for the Emperor to land"

Speaker Leeds nodded his head to the controller, who sent the signal to orbit control.

Artemis Soldys stood next to him, glancing up at the sky.  Weather was being monitored as well - any sign of precipitation, and the greeting would be moved indoors.  That didn't look like it was going to be a problem.  The temperature was bearable, and the sun was shining.  It wasn't long before the visitors could be seen - a single speck, the shuttle, and multiple smaller specks around it, the honor guard. And still more specs, the republic escort.  Slowly growing in the sky above.  THere were cheers when they were first visible in the crowd, which renewed as the shuttle began to descend vertically over the landing space, the fighters sweeping upward and away.

The hissing of air as the lambda shuttle's wings began to fold upward, legs extending to grasp the floor, and the hiss of the ramp as it opened.  Twenty imperial honor-guard troops descended, faces hidden behind white masks, but designations distinct from standard storm troopers by the small lapel on their right shoulders.  Immediately following them, Barrett Trevaithan descended his own uniform almost bare of medals, but carrying a distinct and unique emblem above the pocket. He was followed by four red-robed imperial guards. Standing between them, Emperor Schrag, in full class-A uniform descended.  His hair was cut in a short crop, eyes fierce, cold, and discerning.  Behind the emperor, two more honor guard, and a gray-faced, black robed individual Artemis didn't recognize.

The Speaker turned to Artemis one last time as he began to walk the path toward greeting the Emperor.

"This could be an historic day, Senator Soldys. When peace will finally be returned to the galaxy"

Artemis nodded, following the Emperor.  Hopefully, that would be true.  Hopefully, this day wouldn't be historic for another reason.
A day that would mark the beginning of the end.

TBC

[Syren]

"I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train."
-Ozzy

Chandaar

The Winton royal cruiser flares out of hyperspace.

They are almost immediately routed into a singular and massive traffic lane. Half the orbit is virtually devoid of vessels. Dahlia dabs on lipstick and clears her arrival with Republic central command. Georgie is at the controls, taking them in.

An Imperial Star Destroyer looms in the distance, stately and ominous.

Dahlia closes the compact and marvels at it through the viewport. The whole thing is just…sexy. The slick design had always appealed to her in way most other craft did not. Republic capital ships and dreadnaughts were so bulky and weird. Even the cruisers in the Sector lacked imagination. She read that Karen's command ship, The Corporeal Quandary, was super custom and ultra luxe. Dahlia loves the royal cruiser but inheriting a posh Star Destroyer would have been so cool. Unfortunately, the Quandary was literally flown right into the Centerpoint Station. Whose brill idea was that?

They land at The Menagerie and she adjusts the mini-sweater over the strapless dress then slips on a pair of sunglasses. Dahlia descends the ramp slowly as the small crowd of reporter's snaps photage. She poses and gives some good face-time before slinking off into the bowels of the Menagerie. The press isn't as rabid as they typically are no doubt due to the Imperial presence on Chandaar. It is historic, after all. This is supposed to be an innocuous visit anyway. Just another stroll down Fabulous Lane.

Georgie delivers the trunks to her suite then disappears into the corridor as Quinn sweeps in from the bathroom with Gemma's single blaring in the background and a severe look on her face.

"What's wrong?"

Quinn groans, "Everything."

"I feel like I need context here," Dahlia replies flippantly while crossing the room. "Could you be more, like, specific?"

"Escara Wu personally invited the Imperial delegation to the show! Everyone is freaking the hell out."

"Why? The Empire is here to broker a truce not go clubbing. Besides, I heard this Emperor is super mean. And not even cute like the last one. I bet he's no fun at all."

Quinn is shaking her head as she languorously retrieves a cigarette from atop the armoire and lights it.

"They intend on showing them around Chandaar, something about signs of good faith and-slash-or "keeping it real." Kinsa told me there is serious buzz about the show. It's a giant mess and everyone is just so stressed out."

"So, I leave you for a few weeks, er, months and you're smoking now? You need to mellow. I'm here and we can rock the runway, hit a few parties and, like, hang and stuff."

"Totally but aren't you the least bit concerned by this?"

Only that it's probably not a coincidence the Empire is here exactly when Adubell told her she needs to be. Dahlia had not been given any kind of direction and she hates flying blind. All she needs to do is nail the show and keep an eye out for anything useful. How hard is it to spot destiny anyway?

"Nope," Dahlia says. "Now put that out so we can eat."

Quinn stamps the butt out in an impossibly expensive dish.

"Oh, I'm not eating today."

She finds herself dancing in place to the song.

"Too bad, I'm starving and we've got things to do. This is big here?"

"Um, yeah," Quinn says like it should be obvious. "Everyone loves Gem. What's she like?"

"Not like this – all fun and carefree – but she plays it well. A little too well. All she really does is study and read and obsess over this stupid boy."

And is a secret Jedi who is most likely just as suspicious of Dahlia.

"What boy?"

"Riley."

"Is he somebody?"

"Duh, Riley Patten. Big deal on Corellia or something."

"Riiiight," Quinn says. "I saw it on the Holo. He's loaded."

"Really? How loaded?"

"Billionaire. His mom was, like, a financial genius or something."

Dahlia laughs, "I'm pretty sure that's not true."

"Whatever but if you could get Gem to come here, everyone would lose their shit. In a good way."

"I could," Dahlia says. "But she's on her way to Corellia now."

Quinn turns and stares at herself in the vertical mirror.

"That would be so amazing! Gem is, like, the best."

The fact that Gemma's celebrity eclipses hers is almost too much to deal with. True, the pop star angle has more exposure but she is Princess Dahlia-fucking-Winton. That used to mean something. Karen and her friends were more famous than most of the actual celebrities of their time. Something must be done about this.

"Let's go. Our fittings are in an hour."

Quinn grabs a blue lollypop and dances her way out of the suite. Dahlia follows at a distance, wondering just what kind of trouble Quinn has gotten into as an unwitting agent of the Empire. She nods at Georgie and follows her down the hall with the thrill of adventure in the air.



-TBC

[Medivh]

Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril

The debate in the senate had been heated.  Originally intended to last a day, parties on both sides gave impassioned speeches that ran almost a whole week. For. Against. For. Against. For. Against.  Each speech was met with cheers from one side or another, and the question, of course was:
Can we make peace with the Empire?

Which really was based on the more important question - can we TRUST the Empire.

But finally words had been worn out, and Speaker Leeds had managed to thwart any attempts at fillibusters by opposition groups.  It was late in the evening, about a week after Dahlia Winton left Chandaar, that it finally came to a vote.

Senator Artemis Soldys, who had been working almost nonstop, was looking forward to the rest. Whichever way the vote went, he anticipated making a trip to Corellia when it was done, see Della, meet with the jedi, get away from the politicking for a while, so he could return refreshed to deal with the Force User Registration Act, still in place, a simmering problem that had gotten buried and forgotten by many of those who passed the law.  But Artemis had taken note.  those with force sensitivity had been turned away from restaurants, nightclubs, theaters, gaming facilities, and of course, government offices.  People who didn't even know their potential abilities were denied jobs, housing, food.  It was the worst kind of discrimination, and Artemis knew he had to fight it or it would become a permanent emplacement in the Republic.

But that fight was for another day.  He sat, exhausted, in Corellia's booth, staring out at the senate as votes were cast and broadcast.

In favor
Against
In favor
In favor
Against.

A hologram hovered in the middle of the chamber, tallying the votes as they were cast, Artemis watching it as the numbers ticked up.  When all was said and done, about 50% voted in favor of the peace deal, with 45% opposed and 5% undecided.  It was close, but not too close. and it was a win. Artemis nodded his head, standing and making his way out of the senate chamber, heading back to his office.

Several senators met him on his way, offering congratulations, to which he offered with polite words before dismissing them and moving on.

Finally, he reached his office, quiet, with most of the staff already gone.  He reached for the comm unit, trying to reach Della.

It was several rings before someone picked up, someone that wasn't Della.

"Hello, this is Senator Artemis Soldys for Della Avers. Is she there?"
"Senator - Della hasn't reported to work for several days.  I heard she was in some type of accident involving a head injury"
Artemis' began to panic. He hadn't spoken to Della in about a week - longer than usual - but with everything happening here, he just hadn't had time.  Now he was hearing news for the first time. He tried to keep his voice steady.

"Injury?  where ?"
"I don't have the detalis, senator. I think it was the Patten ranch."
"Thank you."

Artemis hung up and dialed another number, a number he hoped would reach someone with answers.

"Corellian Security, Director Veritaas speaking"
"Director, it's Artemis.  What happened to Della?"

There was a pause, and then

"Della's fine, Senator.  She's fine.  In fact, her injuries are the least of our problems"

And then Artemis heard what he'd been missing while on business.

TBC

[Medivh]

Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril

Senator Soldys was constantly worried about what was going on light years away.  For the past several months, he had been carefully monitoring the situation on Corellia, making sure the jedi had found a new home in the old carrier, arranging for necessary retro-fitting.  All, while maintaining appearances on Chandaar.  He couldn't go home, not now, when the peace with the Empire was so new, and he was so crucial to making sure it ran smoothly, making sure the Empire kept their end of the agreement.  Furthermore, he had to make sure everything was done quietly, as the republic still had their paranoid fears of the jedi, and even their absence didn't seem to abate that feeling.  Artemis had suspicions about the continued negative attention, but there was no proof of anything foul.  Just good old fashion fear of what is not understood.

He was regularly in contact with Della, now that she had recuperated from the attack, and together they made sure the jedi facilities were up to par and remained under the radar.

Of course, a senator's job is never done.  With the official ratification of the Imperial-Republic Treaty (formally referred to as the "Garqi Accords"), nearly a dozen worlds were voting whether to join the republic or the Empire.  the results of that were promising as well - it seemed like every one of the worlds given a choice was voting to join the republic.  Dathomir, Ithor, Katarr, Vinsoth, Er'kit, Phaeda, and Agamar had already joined, and were in the process of sending newly elected delegates to Chandaar as delegates (voting delegates, pursuant to the agreement). Generis, Ord Canfre, Ord Biniir, Mygeeto, Morishim, and of course, Garqi were in the process of holding votes which would be resolved in the next day or so. Strengthening the republic with former imperial worlds.

The Empire had also begun reducing the size of their northern fleet, and republic inspectors had confirmed the drawdown.

It was going too smoothly, but what could Artemis say?  The agreement was being followed so everyone should worry?  It would seem paranoid, especially since the agreement was strongly a result of Artemis' negotiations.

There was also a new concern that was taking up Artemis' time.  The piracy at the southern border of the Empire, far from the imperial worlds, had increased again.  The gravity well nets were helping keep them at bay, preventing raids on more interior republic worlds, but already, the pirates were beginning to target those gravity well platforms, an item that was effectively irreplaceable, since they had been given to the republic when the Trade Federation was still extant.

Artemis was making his way to the war council to address the increasing piracy threat.  As he was entering the room, he came upon Barrett Trevaithan.

Ambassador Trevaithan ... what brings you here?

I was asked to attend the council meeting.  Senator Ingrat and the Speaker said the Empire might be able to helpful.

Trevaithan moved inside, leaving Artemis behind him, a sick feeling in his gut.  The Empire invited into a war council meeting?  New peace and end of hostilities was one thing - but discussion of republic capabilities within earshot of the Empire? That seemed to be taking on a lot of risk.  He followed into the room, which was called to order.

"As you know, the Republic has suffered dozens of new raids on its southern border."

A hologram of the quadrant appeared in the center of the room.

"The raids move very quickly - jumping in, attacking small ships, sometimes taking cargo, sometimes kidnapping, leaving very little wreckage.  They've also destroyed three gravity-well net platforms.  The quick nature of the attacks is typical of pirate maneuvers, but they appear to be better coordinated - and better informed.  Our planetary patrols have been increased in the southern region, but the attacks seem to be able to move in and out before a counter-attack is made.

We do have some small amounts of footage from the raids at Lannik, Mimban, and Denon.  They show small and medium ships, heavily modified with arms, as well as a handful of carriers with tractor beams, that appear designs solely for taking away otherwise disabled spoils.  Denon, as you know, is a key world heading into the untamed south. That it has been attacked was surprising - that the attack was successful is deeply concerning.  Lannik and Mimban both are smaller worlds, and losses there are less significant strategically. But if Denon loses control of its orbit or deep space, that opens up the entire Corellian Sector to attack. It further positions raiders easy access to Kashyyk and other mid-western regions of the Republic."

The speaker went quiet as an intelligence officer approached and the map shifted.

"We believe that these attacks are coordinated, as we stated.  For years now, the southern galaxy has been in utter chaos.  Two-dozen years ago, areas west of the Hydian Way and east of the Corellian Run were listed as in anarchy, with no regional powers.  A dozen years ago, after the battle at centerpoint, the grips of key powers was weakened, as even that small area between the two trade routes also became disconnected from the northern galaxy.  For a long time, the Republic has tried making inroads, slowly but steadily, but still, until recently, we hadn't seen any real organization south of Denon.

That appears to have changed, with the Eriadu Pact.  just south of Sullust, Eriadu had been an economic powerhouse, and has adapted to times by beginning a very secure world.  Apparently, in the last two years, they have taken control of the surrounding worlds, and have been attempting to increase territorial holdings. by force if necessary.  We believe they may have, albeit tenuously, control of most of the southern galaxy, and are seeking now to probe into worlds on their upper borders. Their raiders and thieves - to maintain control, they need a target, and it appears to be us."

"Are they that well funded that they truly pose a threat?  Can't we just send in a fleet and wipe them away?"

"Negative - the speed of their attacks make them hard to pinpoint.  Eriadu itself is so far into the lower territory that we could face significant losses in ambush or getting trapped."

"Maybe significant forces are exactly what you need"

Everyone turned as Barrett Trevaithan spoke.

"I know it's the quote-imperial way.  But sometimes, a show of strength is important.  it would help get the raiders off your border, defeat a potentially growing enemy.  Show them whose really in power"

One of the others in the room scoffed.
"You are encouraging the republic to send a massive fleet away from our worlds when the ink is barely dry on the Garqi Accords? That seems a bit much to take, ambassador"

He shook his head, "no, of course not.  I'm saying build a new fleet to do it.  Corellia has more than enough resources to produce a fleet that can satisfy your needs, without compromising any current defensive postures.  And if, for some reason, Corellia cannot do it - the Empire would be willing to step in.  With the war over, we have hundreds of ships of all sizes that are no longer needed.  This would be a great way to utilize them, and further strengthen our new peace."

Artemis took the chance to speak up now.

"I think we need a multi-tiered approach. I will speak to Corellian Engineering about production of a new attack fleet.  I encourage Mon Calimari to do the same.  Meanwhile, we can divert some internal world patrol ships to external locations where they will be more useful, and hopefully deter some of these raids."

The speaker nodded his head.

"Very well.  We will reconvene in a few days to ascertain progress on these matters.  Adjourned."

As individuals poured out of the room, Artemis approached the Speaker.

"Is it wise inviting the imperial ambassador to a war committee meeting?"
"I thought you were in favor of the peace"
"That doesn't mean I'm ready to trust him.  there's information I don't think he should have"
"Leave that consideration to me, Senator. I will make sure he doesn't hear anything he shouldn't"

The speaker hurried away, and Artemis felt more than a little brushed-off.  He hurried back to his office to make a call, the acting head of CEC picking up the line.

"Director, the Republic is considering a massive ship-building order, to address new military needs in the south"
The director frowned.
"I'm sorry senator - our investors. ... they have just ordered a devotion of almost all of our resources to another project"
"Another project? What possible project would require the monopolization of so many resources?"
"I don't know. It's all very hush-hush. Even I'm not told.  The orders haven't come in yet, but we are instructed to not take on any new projects, no matter what.  I'm sorry senator, I'm going to have to say no"

With a click, the line went dead, and Artemis got the brush-off for the second time in an hour.

TBC

[Medivh]

Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril

Senator Soldys had been suffering the wrath of republic politics for the last two months.  It had been his idea to encourage Corellia's increase of production in ships to deal with the demand for greater security on the southern border, and counteract the raids that were increasing in frequency and cost.  But CEC had soundly rejected his appeals, and when he reported as much to the war council, they were none too pleased.  They especially did not appreciate that Artemis could not provide a reason for the refusal.  That they were working on "another project" just didn't cut it.  Accusations of being separatists were hurled at him, lack of patriotism. Profit mongering.  It was quite unpleasant.  he had confided in his senate allies that he didn't understand CEC's move, and they were, at least, sympathetic to his position, but pointed out that it didn't make Corellia look good.

It also didn't help who was covering the slack.  Mon Calimari was enthusiastic about building new ships, and though the council had been reluctant, they had finally turned to Trevaithan, who had magnanimously agreed to provide a dozen Victory Star Destroyers to the southern border, to bolster the fleets. And offering to provide more as needed.  All for the sake of peace. It left Artemis with a twist in his stomach.

This matter had also stolen some of his political clout, and any time he discussed the Force User Registration Act, he was now being shouted down.  Supporting force users was apparently as unpatriotic as not providing ships.

He was sitting in his senate office when he observed the holonet send the report.

This just in - we have reports of a massive attack in downtown Ambaril.  The alleged attacker has killed  over a dozen civilians and six security officers, and is still on the loose.  Our cameras are on scene now.
Artemis sat up as he stared at the screen.  There, in the tan and brown robes of a jedi, was a woman, brown hair, blue eyes.  And she was clearly a jedi.  Surrounded by security forces now, she could be seen pushing out with her hand, and an unseen wave would jettison security personnel with riot gear back dozens of meters.  When they fired at her in return, she pulled out a lightsaber - a blue saber, deflecting shot after shot.  Even the shots that seemed to hit her apparently left her unphased.  At one point she glanced up, sensing the camera.  Her hand reached out, and the camera drew closer to her, close enough to identify her face.

It was Nevylinn.

TBC

[Syren]

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Surface: Ambaril

The backlash from the Jedi attacks is swift and striking.

With the assailant still at large, the RSB are out in force and overseen by the zealous Director, Laird Drakos. He has the full faith of the government and public behind him in bringing this criminal to justice. In the meantime, Speaker Leeds convenes the Senate to shore up any loopholes the Registration Act may have. The passage of these amendments is incredibly timely and their effects are sweeping.

All Force sensitive's must register and submit for testing of their midi-chlorian levels to assess their risk. They are then placed into categories meant to determined their threat level – yellow for passive, orange for elevated and red for immanent. Framed by the terror and loss of life, the public backs this with a resounding affirmative.

Kaytt Corinthos is horrified by what she sees as a massive civil rights violation and takes up the defense of the Force Sensitive's who cannot help being born with natural attunement to the Force. She defends several individuals from varying species and spearheads a campaign to end the Registration Act as it will only incite more violence. As she has learned from the past, the more marginalized a section of the population is, the more likely they are to retaliate against their oppressors. Kaytt aims to break the cycle and enlists her junior associates, Avery Olomos and Brennan Shaw to help appeal to the Senate in this matter.

However, her bold acts do not go unnoticed and the public targets her. She is accused of being a Jedi lover and collaborator. There are calls for her to be disbarred and even more subversive claims that she herself is a Force Sensitive working to further their agenda. She declined testing since she believes such a practice to go against everything she believes in. This stand does not work in her favor. The fervor and unrest has grown into a full blown epidemic of distrust and fear. Everywhere you turn there are signs calling for the public's help in outing a Force Sensitive. They are labeled the Jedi Menace and still, the bodies pile up from these attacks.

Frustrated and heartbroken, Kaytt feels the tension swelling toward a breaking point. The public is not exactly known for their rational behavior given the mob-mentality nature of the protests and riots. She leaves her office for the day determined not to give up and is met by a gang of thugs outside the firm.

"There she is, the Jedi lover!"
"Stupid bitch! You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?"
"She deserves whatever she gets."
"Let's make an example out of her. Show them all what happens to those who support those criminals!"

They charge at her.

Kaytt runs.

She has taken to carrying a blaster in her purse but she left it upstairs in her office. Too late now. She veers into an ally, hampered by her pencil skirt and heels until she comes crashing into a fence. Whirling around, they advance toward her. She slips her purse off her shoulder and clutches the strap tightly. She may be outnumbered but she'll be damned if she's going down without a fight.

Suddenly, the gang stops. Bottles whiz by and shatter at their feet. There are loud pops and flashes. Kaytt squeezes her eyes closed. She hears them shout and curse then flee the opposite direction. When she finally opens her eyes, she is alone in the ally – or so she thinks.

A figure emerges from the shadows; tall and wearing a black combat jumpsuit and the blank mask of The Concealed.

She tenses.

The voice is distorted but distinctly male.

"I'm not going to hurt you, counselor Corinthos. In fact, I'm here to help."

"You have," she says. "I thank you for that but I really should be on my way."

"You could do that or you can hear me out."

"If this is a lecture on how I am fighting a lost cause, you can save it. I know what I am fighting for and these people deserve a voice."

"I could not agree more."

Kaytt sizes him up, giving a wide berth between them.

"You do?"

"Absolutely," he says. "The Senate has gone entirely too far this time. Getting in bed with the Empire, despite the assurances and tactical advantages, will prove too high a price for the Republic in time. But it is the attack on their own citizens that begins our transformation into a new Empire."

"The Concealed objects? I thought you mainly dealt in scandal."

"We object. We are for sovereignty and personal freedoms. The revised enactment of the Registration Act is so deeply a civil rights violation that it is difficult to even put it into words. We fight against these violations just as you do."

"Except I fight them within the law."

"How has that worked out for you so far?"

Kaytt sighs, narrowing her gaze.

"Fair point. What do you want?"

"I have information that might be useful."

"Such as?"

He pauses, as if weighing the value in sharing but in the end she has been deemed and acceptable risk for them to take.

"There are sources that indicate the Speaker's office has contracted a Force Sensitive to hunt down those that have not registered. Do you remember the stories of the Imperial Inquisitors? This would not be too far off that mark."

She gasps, shaking her head.

"They wouldn't. One of their own betraying them in that way? It's outrageous."

"Is it? The Empire's presence here has clouded the Senate's judgment in more ways than one. They see a way to secure our borders and increase security but at what cost? We've seen this before throughout history; the slow corruption of a noble intention. Extolling the ideal of peace only amplifies the need for control. This is only the beginning. The beginning of the end."

"We have to stop it."

"We can," he says. "If we work together. My associates and I can operate in areas unfamiliar to you and, in turn, you can provide the public face for the results of our investigation. You have a dedicated following both within segments of the Republic population and inside the highest ranks of The Concealed. You also have the respect and trust of one of the most ruthless and popular Holo reporters."

"Selene."

He nods.

"Think of things we could accomplish if The Concealed provides the information, you challenge the legality of their actions and Miss Silvestri takes it galaxy-wide. Exposing them would break our slide into an Imperial regime and restore the true nature of the Republic."

This bolsters her confidence but she is still skeptical. The Concealed's motives have varied widely in the past. However, they have proved themselves to be an effective tool in righting the wrongs of injustice. She is intrigued and knows she could use the help. So she agrees.

"We'll be in touch."

He steps back into the shadows but she calls after him.

"I don't even know your name."

And he whispers, "You can call me Antaro."




-TBC

[Syren]

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Counselor Kaytt Corinthos used to care what people thought of her.

As a young woman entering the legal field on the politically charged Chandaar, her reputation became everything. She was tenacious yet extremely ethical. Even when those lines began to blur, Kaytt still maintained a level of integrity throughout. Now she is a pariah and even her friends have distanced themselves from her. Janessa has been in the Corporate Sector most of the summer and Kinsa is more concerned with her brand. Her only support is from the oppressed. However, the oppressed clients she represents have powerful connections in The Concealed. Their vast network of slicers and informants funnel information through her contact who in turn shares anything relevant with her.

The mysterious Antaro gave her leads in which she followed up on behalf of her firm. The other partners may disagree with her cause but the publicity is priceless. She reaches out to individuals and families who have been unfairly targeted by the Force User Registration Act. Their stories go beyond the RSB's so-called Force Sensitive Squad. These stories terrified her and called into question much larger issues than the legality of the F.U.R.A. It gave credence to the things Antaro told her and so she enlists some cunning assistance.

Selene Silvestri traverses her way through the construction site listed in the coordinates she received. It is empty on the weekend and eerily silent. The things she does for a story.

"Selene."

She whirls around as Kaytt steps out from behind a duracrete column.

"Maker Almighty," she sighs. "You always find the creepiest places to meet."

"Sorry but I have to be careful."

"I heard, you okay?"

"Holding up but better than my rep."

"You are walking on my side of the line now. Fighting for the truth seldom has supporters."

"Everyone seems to love you."

"They fear me," Selene says. "There is a difference."

"So I am starting to see."

"You got something for me?"

Kaytt nods, "The Republic is in deeper with the Empire than they let on."

"That's old news, Counselor but the safety they represent appeals to an already frantic public."

"That fear was placed there intentionally and their nefarious methods are beginning to show themselves in more ways than one."

Selene smiles, "Dramatic. I'm intrigued. Go on."

"The Registration Act now has mandatory testing and there is a penalty for refusing to submit. The RSB had been handling these cases but more recently another figure has emerged as part of what I believe is a secret, unsanctioned witch hunt."

"What figure?"

Kaytt withdraws a datacard from her purse.

"I have audio statements and witness accounts stating someone came for those who refused. These people are spread throughout Chandaar with no connections other than Force Sensitivity. The situations may differ but the descriptions of the assailant are all the same. Most of the audio is from friends or family members of those who were taken but the lone individual who claims to have escaped an attack is now missing. I spoke with him less than twenty-four hours ago."

Selene crosses her arms, "And this isn't RSB?"

"The descriptions, limited as they may be, center on a hood, a saber and the glint of a mask – all tenants of the Imperial Inquisitor."

"Operating under the Republic's nose?"

"Or on their orders."

"You don't have proof of that."

"Not yet."

"So, they are either complicit or fools. What about the attacks by the Jedi?"

"Too aggressive and conveniently timed," Kaytt says. "They don't protest with murder."

"Fair enough but all seem to be attributed to the actions of one individual, this Master Nevylinn. One of their own could have gone rogue as is evidenced in their history."

"I'm telling you," Kaytt says sharply. "This seems staged as a way to further divide and distract the public. The Registration Act is legalized discrimination that is now being taken to a frightening level through law enforcement and vigilantism. There is a darker motive here; I know you've questioned it."

Selene adjusts her glasses.

"Questions need some basis in reality, Counselor. This isn't a courtroom. You can't turn the Republic into conspiracy by creating reasonable doubt. You need proof."

"You don't believe me."

"I never said that. I'll listen to the audio, poke around, see what's there but I'm going to need far more conclusive evidence to pin something like an Inquisitor on the Republic."

"All I ask is that you look."

Selene begins to move away but stops and turns around.

"You said this figure was targeting those who refused testing."

"That's right."

"You refused testing."

Kaytt swallows, following her train of thought.

"I did."

"Then what makes you think it won't come after you?"

"I have and that's why I need you to dig. This goes beyond keeping the peace. The shift in tone, the choice in alliances, the rigorous enforcement of the Registration Act, the attacks – we are being led toward a dark place and all anyone can do around here is cheer."

"Alright," Selene says. "I'll dig."




-TBC

[Syren]

"The fog and the smog of news media that logs
False narratives of Gods that came up against the odds."

-Tribe

Chandaar: Republic Capital

The landing party is small but significant - the Governor of Ambaril with his aides, reps from the label, a security detail and, unfortunately, the Director of the RSB, Laird Drakos. Gemma steps off the ramp in a baby blue dress and strappy heels, a white flower crown nestled atop her golden curls. Even without really trying she is radiant, stunning.

"Thank you all for such a warm welcome," Gemma says with a smile. "I am so honored to be here."

"As we are honored to have you," the Governor says.

Garron's eyes flicker to the right.

"I wasn't aware our arrival commanded the presence of the Republic Security Director."

"Please try and refrain from flattering yourself," Laird interjects. "I'm here strictly in an official capacity. There is some concern."

"Concern?"

"With her status."

This was to be expected but Garron does not remember being beaten at Laird's behest fondly and takes to tactful provocation.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Don't be coy, Mister Prescott. You know as well as I do that Force sensitivity in the Masterton family is well-documented. Our laws require all those with Force sensitivity to register."

"Does it?"

"That's what they tell us," the label rep mumbles, looking nervous.

"That won't be necessary."

Kaytt Corinthos strides onto the scene, stopping beside Garron who smirks at Laird. He'd called for backup long before they arrived. Corinthos would love nothing more than to stick it to the tyrant Director Drakos.

"Lady Masterton is a citizen of the Corporate Sector and not subject to the conditions of the Registraton Act within the Republic. The provisions outlined only extend to our citizens, not those with clearance and citizenship on non-Republic worlds."

"Perhaps you should read up."

Laird seethes at Garron.

"And she is our guest!" the Governor proclaims, trying to smooth over the aggressive tones. "Surely, we have nothing to fear from her."

Laird Drakos does not believe that. He's seen the damage the Jedi can do. Hell, the blood that is on her sisters hands is splattered throughout the galaxy. His men have been hunting a murderous Jedi across Ambaril with little luck. Many of their agents had been slaughtered along with countless civilians. Now there is talk of an uprising, whispers from the contacts of the underworlds that a resistance among Force sensitives is brewing. They cry oppression when they represent such a clear and present danger to them all. There are humanoids and other species roaming their streets with powers capable of mass destruction and loss of life. He backed the Speaker's motion to make testing mandatory. Now he sees it didn't go far enough. Still, he will not drop the issue without vindication. 

"Then she admits to her condition?"

Gemma frowns but remains silent.

Since when was this reclassified? Garron feels the rage boil within him.

"She doesn't have to answer that," Kaytt quips evenly. "In fact, she doesn't have to answer any of your questions."

He eyes Garron then Gemma, "So, she is your council?"

Garron glares, "On retainer."

"If we're done with the inquisition, Director I'm sure our guest would love to get settled in."

"I would, thank you," Gemma says, taking the Governor's hands in her own. She turns the experience into something light, positive. "Ambaril is such a wonderful city, Governor. So many cultures and walks of life. Diversity really is a beautiful thing. Tell me all about the events in the city this summer."

As they walk off together toward the skiff with the entourage, Laird steps in front of Garron. Kaytt does not move from his side.

"Director," she warns.

"She's a threat," he says. "You know it and I know it. While you may have had your traveling privileges reinstated, your presence does not inspire trust."

"You are entitled to think as you wish. It's still a free Republic, isn't it?"

The two men stare each other down before Laird steps aside.

"Enjoy Ambaril."

Garron wants to bash his face in for the way he was treated and for the way he is treating Gemma now. He makes it seem as though the Force is a sickness, not a natural attunement to all forms of life. Realizing the escalating machismo will solve nothing, Garron heads toward the skiff with the counselor.
 
Kaytt glances at him, keeping her voice low.

"There is more you should know. She's not safe here."

Garron does not allow his expression to change, maintaining an appearance that they are exchanging light banter.

"A specific danger?"

"A new player," she says. "Hunting down suspected Force users. I can't get into it now but Drakos is right about one thing - the Masterton name carries suspicion surrounding the Force and that makes her a target. I'll help any way I can."

"You never stop fighting the good fight."

"Never. It's bad, Garron. Worse than you know. The Empire has only complicated things."

They near the skiff.

As he embraces her, Kaytt's lips brush his ear.

"Whatever they show you, it's a lie."



TBC

[Syren]

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Surface: Ambaril

Gemma is prepped and ready in her dressing room, vocal warm up's completed.

She takes in a few deep breaths to center herself. The Force really does help with the jitters. She feels confident and powerful, ready to share her music with her fans in the Republic. The support they've shown her helps in healing.

One of the production assistants knocks on the door.

"Someone requesting to see you, Gem."

"Anyone I know?"

She bites her lower lip, "Barrett Trevaithan."

"The Imperial Ambassador?"

She nods.

"Random but okay. Send him in."

Once she disappears, Gemma mulls this over. She knows Barrett is linked to Dahlia but his presence here is somewhat of a mystery considering he's known mostly as a hard-nosed tactician helping to build Republic defenses and secure their borders. Garron would flip out but he's busy with the details of security.

A few moments later, Barrett appears in the doorway.

"Good evening, Baroness."

She laughs, "The formative title only applies in The Sector."

He shrugs, allowing the door to close behind him. She's taken by how handsome he is, magnetic in some way. Her senses are positively tingling but she can't get a read on why.

"I see you scored a backstage pass," Gemma says, glancing down at the lanyard around his neck. "I never took you as a fan of my music."

"Admittedly, I was curious and apparently it is important to appear hip with my age group. There are metrics or something."

"There always are."

"I heard about your parents…I'm sorry. For you loss."

"Thank you, I appreciate that. How is Dahlia? We haven't really spoken…"

"She's okay," Barrett says. "Coping. She'll be here soon."

She can tell socializing isn't his defining quality but Dahlia's influences are evident. He's polite and sincere but there is hardness there, no doubt from his dealings with politicians and military brass.

"Yes, attending at University of Ambaril. How exciting. You still haven't told me why you are here. Forgive my candor but wanting to appear connected with your generation doesn't necessarily preclude a personal meeting with me."

"A chance to meet Dahlia's sister was too good an opportunity to pass up. She doesn't speak much of her home life."

"Up until recently there wasn't much to discuss. We lived fairly traditional but happy lives."

"And now?"

"Now things are different," Gemma sighs. "We all have to make our way forward."

"There are many ways to do that. Your prestige and notoriety could lend an air of sophistication to our cause."

"And what cause is that?"

"Peace between Empire and Republic."

"My understanding is the truce has long since been signed."

"It is still new, fragile and there remains a stigma around our intent."

"I can't imagine why."

Barrett smirks, "Don't be so quick to judge. We are not the same as what we once were. You could see for yourself, perhaps even go on record."

Her mouth falls open.

"You want me to work for the Empire?"

"It's not so outlandish," he says evenly. "Your sister did."

She feels her face flush.

"Melanie worked for the Imperial fashion house Raga'Ana, not for them directly or in an official capacity. There is a vast difference."

"Her image and those of her friends provided a humanizing element."

"In contrast to the inhumane things they did. If you remember, you didn't exactly step in to save any of them. In fact, three of the four perished in a battle…with the Empire."

"Fair enough but we've learned from those mistakes, change leadership and tact. We've evolved."

"Prove it," she says. "Show them transparency and equality."

"Such things come at a price."

They hold each other's stare for far too long when the production assistant raps on the door again.

"Two minutes!"

Gemma shakes it off.

"I've got to go. It was lovely to meet you. Give my regards to Dahlia since you will no doubt see her before I do."

"Ever the charming host. My pleasure was mine. Break a leg, as they say."

She groans.

Barrett follows her out into the hall but remains behind as she heads toward the stairs.

Gemma takes the stage, lights flashing and music cued. Visuals accompany the performance on a giant screen behind her, morphing into something new to compliment each song. She rocks the first half of her set but when she begins a cover of a Republic classic, the noise in the audience changes. At first she thinks they are not feeling the song as it could be taken as a liberal anthem of sorts. Then the crowd goes silent. She can only make out a face here or there over the lights but the expressions she manages to catch turn from surprise to horror. Some cheers break out but they are soon drowned out by a rising wave of booing. Gemma trails off and whirls around.

Projected above her is photage of their battle with the monsters and clones at the Patten Ranch. The frame is focused on her as she deflects blaster bolts and cuts down the creatures with her saber. Who filmed this?! Her mind is racing as tears well up in her eyes but they still hold enough focus for her to see the cam zooming in on her face. The expression of determination is backlit by the sabers glow.

The boos merge into shouting and screaming.
 
"She's one of them!"
"She's a Jedi!"
"A killer!"
"A menace!"
"A liar!"

Gemma gasps as fans in the first row breach the gates and rush the stage. Security leaps in but is overwhelmed. Anger and rage bombard her in waves and she flees from the stage in tears. Garron is on her quickly, pulling her down the corridor as other security gather into place. The production assistant appears, visibly shaken. She stops them.

"The exit is blocked; we have a full blown protest gathering outside."

Garron's spin is swift.

"A protest? That's ridiculous. She was sabotaged."

"Uh…of course…I'll need to speak with my superiors at Galaxiss-"

"Then get on it!"

The production assistant yanks out her com and turns away.

Garron has his own device out, fumbling with one hand as he pulls a weeping Gemma along.

"Kaytt."

"I saw it," she says in a clipped tone. "It's everywhere."

"We need an out."

"I have a friend at the concert. South platform."

"Who?"

"Kinsa Cavanaugh."

"She's a socialite, Kaytt. Too high profile."

"You are not in a position suitable to be particular. Go now. Kinsa will get you out."

He clicks off and nods to one of the security officers.

"South platform."

They change direction but a commotion down the corridor diverts their attention. Shouting can be heard and the officers respond, leaving Garron and Gemma alone. He grunts but presses on. They hit the doors and burst into the open air onto a bridge leading across to a landing platform. The platform is empty. Gemma is mumbling to herself between sobs. He puts an arm around her shoulders and guides her across. The warm wind whips across the open space as they wait. He is about to call Kaytt again when a small skiff swoops in but doesn't land. It idles beside the platform and does not look as fancy as he thought it would. Maybe Kinsa is traveling incognito these days. Garron and Gemma cross the platform when it begins to dawn on him there is no way a socialite would have arrived in a skiff this dilapidated.

A figure stands and turns, robed and wearing the blank mask of The Concealed.

Garron stops, drawing his blaster and stepping in front of Gemma.

The figure raises its hands up.

"I'm a friend of Counselor Corinthos."

"Why send you?"

"She didn't," the figure says. "But I'm offering assistance none the less."

"That is awfully charitable for a stranger."

"Call me Antaro."

Garron's com bleeps. Without breaking aim, he answers it.

"Kinsa can't get to you in the mess; we'll have to find another way."

"Counselor," he says, glaring at the figure. "You know someone named Antaro?"

There is a brief but noticeable pause.

"Yes."

"Do you trust him?"

"Why?"

"He's our out."

"Go," she says. "He's a friend. I'm sure he'll explain."

He clicks off and lowers the blaster.

"Looks like we're riding with you."

He nods and extends a hand to help Gemma into the skiff. Garron glances around then jumps in as Antaro takes them down and away from the theater.

On the rooftop above the platform, Barrett watches the skiff descend.





-TBC

[Syren]

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Location Unknown

Antaro guides the skiff down into the depths of Ambaril and leaves the glittering lights behind them.

Garron doesn't know where they are going but trusts that Counselor Corinthos would not steer them into danger. Still, he keeps one hand tightly around his blaster. One can never be too careful. Gemma has stopped crying and wipes the running mascara from under her eyes. She feels numb and foolish, knowing Nevylinn's warnings about her celebrity cover were true.

For all her intelligence and education, she lacks the ruthless cunning seemingly required to take on the Sith. They played her own game against her and now her reputation is effectively ruined. The pop star painted a liar. It may not have resonated as deeply had the performance been elsewhere. In the Republic, the fervor surrounding Force ability and public safety served as the perfect platform to turn everything against her.

Her com bleeps. It's Riley but she's can't bring herself to answer it. She's too embarrassed. 

The skiff glides into a crumbling hangar. Antaro leaps out and strides across the uneven duracrete flooring. Garron helps Gemma down and they follow. The sound of her heels echo in the large space but there is very little other noise save for a strange, low hum that permeates the background.

Antaro pulls open a utility door.

"This way."

They wander through an access tunnel before stopping at a service closet. Inside, Antaro releases a power switch which detaches the massive panel in front of them. It swings open to reveal a rusted metal staircase.

Garron waits, "After you."

Antaro descends the steps as Garron follows with a still-stunned Gemma. On the landing below, the crumbling tunnel opens up into another old hangar. The hum is gone but would cover all noise from below. From the heaps of parts and scrap it looks like the hangar may have been used for maintenance once upon a time.

Two figures are standing near the center, also in cloaks and the mask of The Concealed.

The eerie scenario is not lost on Garron who feels this is all playing out like a cheap slasher at the Holoplex. He keeps a safe distance between them as they approach. What chaps his hide more than anything is the fact that Director Laird Drakos will have gloating rights and may do something far worse in the name of the Registration Act. He wonders if Gemma realizes the potential fallout from this spectacular foil.

 Finally, one of the figures speaks.

"Gemma Masterton," says the first. "We are honored."

The second nods, "However, we wish our meeting were under better circumstances."

Tensing, he stays protectively in front of her then remembers she is more skilled and powerful than he. It is instinct, cultivated over years of watching her grow into a capable young woman. Swallowing hard, she steps out from behind Garron. She gathers herself as best she can, drawing strength from the Force to maintain composure. She knows she must look ridiculous to them; blown out blonde hair, short glitzy silver dress, sparkling heels, and deeply shadowed eyes.

"We are grateful for your assistance. You need not fear us."

"An understandable yet incorrect assumption." says the first.

"We don't."

"Not even after…what you saw?"

"What we saw was your true self, not the façade. It was a noble ploy if not somewhat naïve. We have to ask – why?"

Gemma is not in the mood to be anything other than straight up.

"I hoped my celebrity would grant me access, that I would be able to use it in order to find a way to the truth."

"I suppose that depends on which truth you seek."

"There are so many, especially now that we live in such….complicated times."

Antaro turns to them, "Counselor Corinthos acts on the information we provide. She has helped many but the Republic isn't making it easy. The threat she represents to their position is very real and has garnered quite a bit of support in some circles. Unfortunately, the Senate has made it difficult to push back under Speaker Leeds and his zero-tolerance policies when comes to Republic security."

"Kaytt is a champion that way," Garron says. "You think they would kill her?"

The first shakes his head.

"There is an even greater risk of turning her into a martyr. They would never want that."

"Director Drakos would be beside himself."

Garron's features crease with distain.

"Let him lose it. He could stand to come down a notch or two."

Antaro crosses his arms, "I understand your issues with the Director are more personal but this transcends any one individual. As I'm sure you've seen and heard, things are taking an alarming shape."

"Heard yes, not really seen. Our landing party only showed us the remarkable achievements and progress made throughout Ambaril. We saw nothing of the accusations thrown around on the Holo."

Gemma frowns, "All for show, I imagine."

"Pulling back the surface would reveal the great divide and nothing is less appealing than discord when they are trying to sell unity and peace. We need to be protected."

"From what?"

"The galaxy at large when the real threat is already well underway; the fall of the Republic."

"Who are you?"

The first tears off his mask; it is a young man several years older than she but younger than Garron. He is unexpectedly handsome, maybe a little too much for subterfuge, with an intense forehead and piercing eyes.

"My name is Taarek Cirque. My father served your sister, the Jedi Melanie Masterton, in the battle of Centerpoint."

This takes both Gemma and Garron aback. Seneca Cirque's reputation and service is widely known and respected. He was one of several agents who entered that station with the remaining three for the last time.

The others do not reveal themselves.

"Our apologies, Lady Masterton," Antaro says.

"There are some secrets best kept."

She understands, glancing to Taarek who motions away.

"I want to show you something."

They weave through the heaps of scrap and cross a bridge to an adjacent building. There are barracks housing over a hundred people; adults, children, families separated from each other all because of their Force Sensitivity.

"They were discovered and either ran or was sent by their families to protect them – to keep them off the registry and safe from the masked hunter."

She gasps as they wander past the small rooms. She can feel their pain; the loneliness and fear.

"This is what we fight for," Taarek tells Gemma.

She is moved and horrified, unable to find words.

Garron focuses on other details.

"What hunter?"

"No one knows but the hunter is one of them."

He had heard stories as a child but such practices hadn't been used since the days of Palpatine. This must be what Kaytt was talking about; the new player. They used to go by a specific and terrifying name.

"An Inquisitor."

"Unclear but the evidence is compelling, feeble as it may be," says the second.

"What do you mean?"

"No real proof, only the fractured tales people tell. Those that would know for sure have been taken or slain."

"The Empire wouldn't risk it, not with the truce."

"Oh, I don't know," Antaro says. "Whip up enough fear and you would be surprised the things you could do. This started long before Leeds. The Jedi was made a target through careful exploitation of their secrecy and purpose. Oust them from the shadows, sensationalize their mystique, and suddenly the public has a new threat in their midst's."

Taarek nods.

"Crack down on the uncertainty and outcry with tactfully discriminatory legislation then create a bit of misdirection to legitimize your actions all while the Republic heads of state shake hands with the Imperial Emperor. The populous is too busy turning on each other to understand this is will probably benefit them least in the end. Those that cried loudest for the Registration Act will suffer the most under it tyranny and overreach. We've seen it before; the savior enslaves."

Her pulse is racing, the first blossoms of outrage morphing into compassion.

"If we can get them off world, I know a place they can go."

Garron pulls Gemma aside, keeping his voice low.

"Corellia already takes great risk in harboring the Jedi. Smuggling Force sensitives off the Republic capital could bring even more attention and scrutiny. If they are discovered, Corellia could suffer significant consequences from the Republic. It could jeopardize their membership."

"If they knew what was really happening, would they still want it? We must confer with Senator Soldys."

"It could jeopardize our lives."

Gemma's mind spins toward the events of the past, flickering with images of the dark place, the battle, the concert, the disappearing flesh that gave way to the face of the monster beneath. She looks up at him.

"It already has."




-TBC

[Medivh]

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Ambarill
Footage of footage, playing on a near endless loop.

The news media, recognizing the story of the year (or at least the week), didn't for a moment stop to consider the consequences of making it their headline story.  Gemma Masterton.  singer. star. JEDI IN DISGUISE.  The footage that had played behind her during the concert was forwarded to every station in the Republic, the Empire, and the Corporate Sector.  Political commentators asked what the repercussions were, what laws Gemma or her escort might have broken.

Then the footage showed the rioting at the concert hall, concert security fighting against a growing mob inside and out.

"We have just received word that there is new footage of Gemma Masterton leaving the concert hall where the riot began"

A single clip, caught from a distance, of Gemma and Garron running across a bridge to a landing platform, a ship appearing, a masked face.  That becomes the important clip.

"Gemma Masterton, the famous singer from the Corporate Sector, and newly discovered to have the same jedi skills as her deceased sister, Melanie, left the concert hall with the assistance of one of the Concealed, the underground terrorist organization.  We turn now to a live press conference from Director Lair Drakos of Republic Security."

Drakos standing at a podium, surrounded by reporters, trying to hide the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"This confirms our suspicions that Gemma Masterton is not only a jedi, but working with the terrorist organization known as the Concealed.  Ms. Masterton came to Chandaar under the guise of being an artist, and used a technicality to evade being tested for Force sensitivity.  But now that we have proof of her underhanded dealings, she will not be given free reign here.  We have put out several teams looking for her, and are offering a reward for anyone who can locate Ms. Masterton, her bodyguard, Garron Prescott, or can provide any information related to her connections with the jedi or the Concealed."

[Syren]

"And if we're goin down in flames
The smoke gonna spell my name."
-Louis the Child

Chandaar: Republic Capital

"I don't think you fully grasp the severity here," Garron tells her. "It's too much to ask, especially after all they've done."

"I'm not talking about Corellia, Garron. I'm talking about D'ian."

"The Corporate Sector is no place for the Jedi."

Gemma scowls.

"Why because it's not fiscally prudent? D'ian is the perfect setting. With the no-press policy there won't be any prying eyes."

"You want to load up the bedrooms of the Gellar Estate? People will talk."

"No," she says. "But the Viiperi Lake House would work perfectly. Summer is almost over and all the holiday travelers will return to Mondder leaving us a secluded retreat. It's not permanent but they will be much safer there than here."

"I hate to interrupt," Taarek says, approaching them. "We have a much larger immediate problem."

"What?"

He holds up a small projector which displays the Holo cycle of the concert photage and ensuing madness. The focal point is later photage showing their escape. They zoom on the mask of The Concealed, pulling away to show Gemma's frightened face as she stepped into the skiff. Mercifully, she doesn't look terrible.

"They are using the word "terrorist."

Gemma gasps.

Garron makes a face, "That's quite a leap. Even for them."

"I'll give you one guess on who first associated the word with us then her."

"Drakos."

"Your Director pal is intent on blowing this as far out of proportion as possible. They are calling a manhunt on both of you."

"What about Kaytt?"

"The Counselor can file an injunction but the courts have been about as favorable as the Senate. It will take time you do not have."

"This has escalated," Antaro says, turning to them. "We need to get you both out of here."

"We can't simply waltz back into the spaceport. They will have the Masterton shuttle under guard and pick us up the second we appear on their cams."

"Not if we utilize our vast network of resources."

"What do you suggest?"

"There is a rally planned this evening which should be well attended. Most will be in masks as a sign of solidarity. The RSB doesn't like it but we haven't reached a point of suppressing this kind of free speech…yet. In disguise, we can get you through the city as the march will pass the east end of the spaceport."

Antaro nods, "Once inside, our slicers can handle the departure logs and clear your shuttle."

"What about the agents the Director no doubt dispatched?"

"We have fighters too – some of them ex-and-current RSB who have turned against the Republics new direction. But first, you must release a statement."

"How?" Garron bellows. "They will trace the signal and be on us before the broadcast concludes."

Taarek laughs, "Ye of little faith. They won't know where to look. We can bounce the signal all over the planet."

"Now," the second says. "Gemma will address the public."

"And say what?"

"Tell them who you really are, why you felt it best to hide and call for reform and action."

"Well, out of the offers I've received today, this does seem more appropriate."

"What other offer?"

"The one from Ambassador Trevaithan."

This immediately seizes everyone up.

"I was not aware of this," Garron says sharply. "Gemma, when did this happen?"

"Before the show. He came to my dressing room."

"How?"

"He had a VIP pass, I cleared it. I was curious."

"What did he say?"

All eyes are on her.

"Trevaithan offered his condolences on my parents, something I have yet to full process let alone allow myself to wonder the why and how. We talked about Dahlia before he segued into how my endorsement would bring an air of sophistication to their cause. There is concern around the Imperial stigma of course and he felt I could neutralize that. He cited my sister which is completely ridiculous. I told him as much and turned him down. He stressed that they have changed so I told him to prove it, to show the Republic transparency and equality. He said it would come at a price."

"I'll bet."

"That sneaky little shit."

"Then what happened?"

"I had to take the stage, so he left."

Antaro and Taarek exchange glances.

"You could use that," Antaro says. "In your broadcast, you could tell them that the Empire approached you in secret to solicit positive influence in their agenda."

"It's hearsay," Garron says. "Her word against theirs and at the moment she is less than a credible source. No offense."

Gemma frowns, glances away.

"Then speak from the heart. You know this isn't right."

She nods, "Alright."

"Quickly," Antaro says. "We've got a schedule to keep."

Gemma gives Taarek the coordinates of the lake house and clearance codes to get him to the surface.

"Thank you. You don't know what this means."

"Freedom is a worthy cause. No one should be oppressed. We will see you on D'ian."

He replaces his mask and moves away with the second while Antaro escorts Gemma and Garron back to the hangar. Gemma fishes out a compact from her purse and checks her appearances, smoothing away any signs of her looking and sounding like a lunatic. She needs the public to believe her although she is smart enough to know most here would not. But it may sway those on the fence and she would need the support if things were ever going to change. Garron ponders if she's ready to be the poster child for anyone attuned to the Force but then he smiles. Celeste always encouraged them to be passionate and opinionated, to never let anyone tell them their differences made them less than. It's in her nature, in her blood. She has fought for them and she will fight on.

Antaro places her against a dingy wall without any identifiable markings and withdraws a recorder.

"Whenever you are ready."

Garron watches her relax, shoulders back with a strong, even and sincere tone. He realizes he is watching her become the person she is supposed to be.

"I am Gemma Masterton and I speak to you now with humble regret. I lied to you all and for that I am sorry. This incident has made me realize there is no denying this. Denying myself. I love what I do; my friends, my family, my fans - but the Force is a part of who I am. It helped shape me into the person I am today. And there is no shame in that. Sensitivity to the Force does not make one a terrorist or a threat. Like all abilities, some choose to use it with the intent to deceive or destroy. Despite what you have been shown, this is not the way of the Jedi. Nor is it my way. We have been hunted, attacked and framed in ways which has turned the public against us as a diversion while your rights are stripped away."

She stares directly ahead, blue eyes shimmering with purpose.

"I beseech you now to look into yourself, to ask if the methods through which we have been targeted are just. How long until another part of your society is deemed a risk – a species, a race, a gender, a belief? When will you see the Registration Act sets a dangerous precedent and opens the door for the powers-that-be to license you to live? I am not a threat to you and neither are they. Our voices will live on so long as they are heard."

She holds her head high.

"Be heard."


-TBC

[Syren]

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Surface: Ambaril

Antaro gives them robes and masks before leading them away from the hangar.

They traverse a series of bridges and access tunnels, moving upward until they reach the surface streets. Gemma remains quiet, reflecting on what she said. By now the public would be reacting for better or worse. Garron was moved by her words but questions The Concealed motives just as he does the Jedi's. Both have altruistic and peaceful purposes but he is wary of them using Gemma to achieve it. He doesn't want her to be a pawn in anyone else's game. She is drawn to what she feels is right but he worries she doesn't see the shades of gray.

Working so closely beside Rutherford Gellar, Garron grasps the intricacies of moral ambiguity, something that appears to be inherent in Dane and Dahlia but not Gemma. She is more of a traditionalist and wants everyone to work together to achieve something great. It is a wonderful notion but impractical is so many ways. He doesn't want her to be disappointed when it doesn't work out so cleanly. Not everything is straightforward, as she is now seeing first hand. You have to get your hands dirty in order to get things done, even at the cost of your own reputation. Garron had gotten over it a long time ago as the peers he left behind labeled him a sell-out to work so closely with one of the corporate titans. He viewed the opportunity as incredibly rare to learn from someone he respected and admired. It had served him well in many areas and he now draws from this knowledge to keep them safe.

Bringing a host of Force sensitives to D'ian would be risky but less so than Corellia. The Corporate Sector plays by its own rules and so long as it didn't adversely affect leverage and profitability, they probably wouldn't care. With all the decks stacked against them it would be wise to maintain secrecy.

They can hear chanting as they draw closer.

Gemma straightens the mask and pulls the hood down low. She takes Garron's arm as Antaro leads them out to merge with the crowds. They all wear the same garb, a symbol of their solidarity and message. They are everyone and no one who speak for those who have been marginalized. It is also a lofty goal and one Garron wonders the personal benefit of attempting to upend the political system. They may be separatists but he hasn't seen it hedge into terrorist activity. At this point, even forceful resistance to Drakos and the RSB seems justified after all they have pulled.

They wade past the patrolling agents itching for someone to step out of line. The crowd shouts for repeal of the Imperial truce and the abolishment of the Registration Act. They call for freedom from oppression and a stop to RSB violence. They hear murmurs in the crowd, pieces of conversation between friends and allies. Some are so angry while others have hope. Her name is mentioned more than once.

"Gem is right," someone says. "Our voices must be heard."
"Do you really trust her?"
"More than them."
"She lied," says another.
"With good reason."
"They lie too."
"She's a celebrity, what does she know?"
"Enough to want to speak out."
"Only after she was caught."
There are more murmurs but the voice of truth cuts through.
"She's a Masterton. This should surprise exactly no one. The RSB is playing it up because that's what they do. She could do a lot of good given her platform so if we can help her help us, we should."

Gemma smiles beneath the mask.

Someone hurls a bottle at the RSB. It was only a matter of time before a line was crossed. There are shouts between parties, batons out and ready. It only takes one to turn peace into chaos but Antaro knows where this will lead and searches for a way out. The spaceport looms in the distance. The shouting escalates into shoving and the RSB attack. Protestors scatter. Gemma holds tightly to Garron as they follow Antaro through the melee.

They make it to the spaceport, trading the masks for simple hoods and tunics Antaro pulls from his bag. They ditch the evidence and head inside. She keeps her head low and blends with the hoards of travelers milling about. No one pays them any mind.

"Does that kind of things happen often?" Garron mutters.
 
"A riot?"

"Yes, I didn't think you were the types."

"More often than we'd like but most have been instigated by the RSB themselves."

"How so?"

Antaro laughs, "Hired muscle posing as one of us throws the first punch which is how we are made to seem like violent offenders as opposed to influencers of change."

"Clever but you don't operate entirely above board."

"That's a given," he says. "But we stray toward the necessary evils."

Garron keeps his voice low.

"You think that's what happening with the Jedi?"

"It has been speculated but if so, it is a highly financed ruse."

They enter the deck where the shuttle is docked but Garron stops them. There are no guards surrounding the Masterton shuttle.

"That doesn't seem right."

Antaro check his datapad, "The unit was called to assist in the disturbance outside. This time the riot worked in our favor."

"Nothing like using their own actions against them. What about clearance?"

He taps around, "Our associates have swapped the Masterton shuttle registry with the platform beside it. Your credentials have been changed to those of a citizen visiting family elsewhere in Republic territory. You should be good to go."

Gemma turns to him, "We cannot thank you enough."

"It is we who are grateful," he says. "Til we meet again."

They make their way across the platform to the shuttle. Garron activates the ramp controls, keeping a steady but casual pace. He engages the engines to ready them for departure. Within a few minutes they would be airborne and leave this place behind them for now. Gemma would be no good to anyone in custody.

Garron starts up the ramp with Gemma close behind but further in, waiting inside the shuttle is a terrifying figure.


The Inquisitor.

Garron raises his blaster but it is slashed in half by the green saber extending from his armor. He slides across the space to grab his tunic, hood slipping off his head. Gemma leaps forward but is thrown back with one flick of his wrist. She struggles, pinned against the wall by the Force.

The Inquisitor deactivates the saber, opting instead to use his gloved hands to make a point. Garron pushes back, landing a punch to the side of his mask and breaking three fingers. This doesn't stop him but the wrath is swift and brutal. The Inquisitor pummels him with blows that are inhumanly fast and expertly placed. Soon Garron is on the floor bleeding and broken. His head is wrenched back, a gravelly voice emanating from beneath the mask.

"Did you really think she would be safe with you?"

He spits blood at him and the Inquisitor hurls him back. Garron hits the far wall and crumpled to the ground. He does not get up. Gemma is horrified, focusing her energy to break free. She drops to the metal floor, hands balled into fists. The Inquisitor turns around and towers over her.

Gemma calls the saber from her open purse to her hand, igniting the weapon to bring it around in front of her.

"Foolish girl."

One hand disappears and the jagged green saber appears.

"You will never know true power unless you let go of all those ideals."

"So the Empire really is behind this," she says.

"I carry out their will."

"Not if I stop you."

"You won't be able to save them.", he says, voice dropping to a near whisper. "You won't even be able to save yourself."

And he attacks.

The force of his blows is massive but she anticipated such and deflects with a careful precision. The space is barely wide enough and their sabers scorch the walls and ceiling, casting sparks around them. He advances and she has run out of room, backed into a literal corner. She deflects but he bears down hard and as she attempts to move his blade away he steps back, swings his weapon and brings it straight across the air to catch her exposed shoulder. Gemma screams and brings her blade down to connect with his boot armor. He buckles slightly but the adjustment is quick, the tip of his saber slashing across her cheek. He then sweeps down to swipe off the top of her saber, destroying it entirely. It fizzles and she drops it to the ground as she lifts her eyes to the terrifying menace standing before her. The Inquisitor reaches out to grab her by the throat. He brings her very close to his mask, so close she can almost feel the burning glow underneath.

"You, like the Jedi, will soon be no more."

Gemma draws in all the strength that she has, breaking his grip and Force pushing him violently down the ramp to the platform below. She lunges at the controls and the ramp seals them inside. Weakened, she staggers into the front to initiate the launch. The shuttle rises and veers sharply away from the platform as she sets the course and collapses back into one of the seats. Sobbing, she holds her shoulder and winces; unsure if Garron is even alive.

The shuttle eases up and away from Ambaril, heading into orbit. No alarms sound. The tactics of The Concealed had worked. They were safely away but safety is the further thing from what she feels. Once they make the jump to hyperspace, Gemma slumps back against the seat and passes out.



-TBC