CC: Imperial March

[Medivh]

Garqi

Trevaithan spent most of the trip locked away in his private quarters, reviewing his notes. He had spent all of his time studying the Republic, and the specific delegates who he would be interacting with.  The high profile ones mattered the most.

Senator Artemis Soldys was likely to be a skeptic, and would be even more so if he came on too strong. Suspicion ran deep (and rightfully so).
Senator Ingrat would likely feign protest, but would be the easiest to win over, with promises of more power and influence.
Secretary Brad Neis, though not the most outspoken of the group, was the most important. He was the head of the rebel delegation, and had the ear of the Speaker. Win him, and these meetings would be a success.  Neis would respond to cordiality - show him that Trevaithan, speaker for the emperor, was not a stingy military type. Break with formality, and that would appear endearing.  Barrett Trevaithan was young, and that would help his image.

Trevaithan also sized up his own delegation.  Most of the commanders with him were newly promoted, after the previous ones had been summarily executed.  They were older than him, yes, but they knew he was in charge, and while they each were given specific tasks and had their areas of expertise and concern, no one would contradict him.  He was certain of that.

As the ship exited hyperspace, he rolled his eyes at the abundance of precaution and effort put in to make sure his little ship didn't mean sabotage or a trick.  The rebels were foolish in their own way.  They didn't understand patience - yes, of course this was all a ruse, but the Empire wouldn't waste their trap by springing it now. Not now, or even in the next few months or possibly years.  This was a trap that would spring when others had forgotten there was any thought of concern.  The beauty of the plan.

Stepping out of the ship, he couldn't help but notice his soldiers seemed figity - they didn't know how to stand without a rifle in their hands.  Best not keep them prone for too long.  He immediately approached the lead delegate, putting out his hand.

"My name is Barrett Trevaithan, Special Advisor to the Emperor and Envoy for the Galactic Empire."

The Secretary seemed slightly taken aback by the casual nature of Trevaithan, who smiled and turned introducing his subordinates before turning back to the secretary.

"I look forward to our conversations here.  I have been hoping for peace for a long time"

"The empire instigated the war. We could have had peace long ago"

Trevaithan nodded, respectfully, then added in his own tone of annoyance, all the better to appease the rebels. "It's hard for the Empire to let of the image of the republic as anything but rebels.  I wish we had learned sooner.  But Emperor Schrag agrees that the best interests of the Empire would involve peace. It's time for us to repair. To mend.  I hope these talks will be the start of that"

"I hope so too"

With that, the imperials were invited into the station, and Barrett's work was really about to begin.

TBC

[Medivh]

Garqi

The table was filled with delegates - mostly uniformed men on the imperial side, Barrett alone wearing less formal garb, while from the Republic side, a variety of senators and counselors, with Secretary Brad Neis sitting directly across from Trevaithan.  It was Neis who started the conversation, and Barrett was all too happy to let him take the initiative. For now.

"You said that Emperor Schrag wants peace. He wants to end the war.  But what does peace mean to you?  If peace is just a stop in the Republic offensive, time for the Empire to rebuild its fleet, and then end, than that is not a peace the Republic can accept.  These are the terms that we are proposing in terms of a peace agreement"

He slid a datapad across the table and Barrett picked it up, glancing down at the list with his best sabacc face on.
Conditions of Peace:
-Official declaration of end of war
-Reparations for damages suffered from imperial attacks on Ithor, Vinsoth, Dathomir, Bandomeer, Taris, Junction, Besh Gorgan, Bastion
-Withdrawal of imperial claim of sovereignty over all territory north of Nirauan (grid 5-I) and all territory east of Ylix (grid 7-M).  Including Bastion and the entire Braxant Sector, all worlds in the Tingel Arm, and all worlds along the Braxant Run excluding Phaeda
-Demilitarized Zone in all outer-rim and mid-rim imperial holdings
-Dismantling imperial war fleets to defensive capabilities only
-Refrain from future expansion of territory
-Republic inspectors to have access to all imperial worlds and fleet logs to ensure compliance

The list of course was absurd.  Asking for reparations from Bastion, a world long held by the Empire, because the rebels had attacked and lost, and then asking the empire to give up literally the entire northeast portion of their territory was a deal breaker.  Barrett was certain this was just the opening salvo.  Tough terms to start, so they have room to negotiate.

After several minutes of reviewing the list, he put down the pad, shaking his head.

"We haven't lost the war yet.  These are terms a victor might impose on a soundly defeated enemy."

"We are poised to win this war, within striking distance of Bastion, a growing fleet."
"You've had a handful of strong wins - and some equally strong losses.  Death on both sides, but the Empire is more disciplined. And doesn't require popular support for successes.  Peace benefits the Republic just as it does the Empire. So let us discuss this as equals - as two parties seeking a common goal. Or else we are wasting our time"

Secretary Neis had on his sabacc face on as well.

"Perhaps we are wasting our time.  Let me put it straight to you, Envoy Trevaithan - we don't trust you. The empire has proven time and again that you are untrustworthy"
"So let's negotiate as two peoples who don't trust each other - but equals nonetheless."
Neis paused before speaking again.
"Do you have a counter offer?"

There it was - the negotiations.  The trick was always not giving away everything at once.

"Establish the border between the Empire and Republic along the Hydian Way. Bandomeer, Taris, Null, Junction all will be Republic worlds. Dathomir, Vinsoth, Erkit, Kataar, and areas further north will be imperial. Bogden, Brentaal, and the Corellian Sector will be the Republic's western border, and worlds east would be imperial, including Anaxes, Vulpter, Ebaq.  Each side withdraws any claim of sovereignty over territory belonging to the other.

As for reparations - the empire will pay for damage done to the republic in the Besh Gorgan system.  It will not repay any reparations to any successor to the Trade Federation, nor to any planets that were significantly disputed, including Bandomeer.

The Empire agrees to maintain only a defensive fleet in the north."

Barrett paused for a minute, gauging the reaction from the other side.  So much for hiding feelings - Barrett could detect the distrust and suspicion on Neis's face.  Or maybe that was the Force-sensitivity thing that Darth Erinbol had told him about - the intuitive sensing of what others thought or did.  He would have to ask the sith-lord about that when he returned. For now, he had one other item.

"And we want a representative in the republic senate"
"The Republic doesn't allow non-members a vote in the senate"

"The Republic has in the past invited various entities to have representation, voting or not in the senate.  Corellia for ten years had non-voting privileges, and two years ago, gained not one but several votes, basically as a bloc.  The Empire is not part of the Republic, doesn't want to be a part of the republic, but wants a voice to be heard, to negotiate, to maintain the peace.  And unlike the corellians, we are asking for one individual for the entire empire, not one for each imperial world."

This was when Artemis Soldys spoke up.  Representative from Corellia, and defacto head of the sector's caucus, comparing the empire to the corellian sector made sense to trigger a reaction.

"Corellia disbanded the Confederation before joining the Republic.  Would the Empire disband as well?"
"Certainly not - that is why we are asking for one representative"
"Voting or non-voting?"
"Just a voice.  We don't need to vote on your internal politics" not yet, at least "We just want to be present for the conversation"
Artemis was about to speak again when the secretary raised his hand to stop him, turning to face Barrett.

"Your proposed terms leave much to be desired - but we can review your proposal and see if there is ground for us to work with.  Let's reconvene tomorrow at the same time"

Barrett smiled.

"That would be my pleasure"

TBC

[Medivh]

Garqi

The initial meeting had been relatively short - each side offering their best (or worst offer), each claiming that was what was necessary to end the war - and of course, each willing to give and take.

Negotiations were all about giving away as little as possible, treating each concession as valuable, and only acceptable for equally valuable concessions from the other side.  A good negotiator could sneak in more, and of course, most of the issues had no objective value - a planet might have certain worth in terms of incomes, but it's strategic location, political muscle, etc., could all be measured against different sized sticks.

For days and days and days, the negotiations went back and forth, each side moving a little closer to the other - but not too close.  A suggestion of "let's meet in the middle" would be seen as a mark of weakness, and negotiations would then proceed from that as the starting point.  So it was all painstaking.

The Republic, for it's part, did not oppose an imperial representative, an ambassador, on Chandaar, so long as it complied with security protocols, and the Empire did not really care if it paid for additional reparations.  The Empire would not hand over the north out of hand, and the Republic would not simply maintain the status quo.

Barrett had been playing his cards close to the vest, worming his way forward on each step.

Still, the negotiations were painstaking, slow.  He had limits to what he could authorize, though not many, but if he gave away too much too fast, it would look suspicious.

It was two weeks in to the negotiations when the territory in the north was again being discussed.


"Again, we aren't just giving away worlds"

"These are worlds that have been subjugated by the Empire and would be free under the Republic"

"It's not freedom subjecting yourself to the wills of another government so far away.  The Empire has greater stability, structure, justice.  That's more valuable than the chaos of democracy.  But besides, if you use the argument 'republic is better than empire' you are effectively saying that the Empire should be dissolved - and we cannot negotiate with anyone who thinks we should cease to exist."

"You feel the Republic should not exist"

Barrett stared, letting the silence seep into the room, making everyone feel uncomfortable. And then he nodded.  He couldn't argue otherwise - the Empire had been hell bent on destroying the Republic (and vice versa) for the past two decades, depending how you counted.

"We felt that way.  Not anymore. That's the point of this peace attempt.  To say 'we recognize your right to exist.'  That has to be the starting point.  We are willing, as part of these negotiations, to recognize your right to exist.  But you need to do the same. You need to accept the legitimacy of the Empire.  If you cannot, than we are just wasting our time."

Barrett rose, his uniformed men standing as well, the Republic representatives staring shocked as Barrett walked out of the room, one commander moving to his side and whispering.

"Sir, was that ... wise?"

Barrett stopped walking turning to the commander, cold fury in his eyes.

"You will never question me like that again, commander, or you will find yourself where your predecessors are"

"Sir, I just meant ..."

Barrett's look silenced him.

"Of course, sir. I apologize, sir."

Pathetic - this was an imperial commander?  He did not have the strength to speak up, nor the cunning to realize what Barrett had done.

Barrett turned and continued walking back to the imperial quarters.  And waited.  It was an hour later when he received a note, slipped under his door.

as part of any deal, the Republic will recognize the legitimacy of the Empire's right to exist and it's form of government

Even without a war, he was already winning.

TBC

[Medivh]

Garqi

"You would give them a choice?"

"Absolutely - let the decision be up to the citizens. which government is best suited for them.  The Empire, with its order, stability, justice; or the Republic, with its cacophony of voices.  If they want to be in a democracy, then so be it."

It seemed like too simple a solution for what to do with the northern worlds between the Hydian Way and the Braxant Sector.  Weeks of going back and forth on what worlds like Garqi, Ithor, and Dantooine would do, and under whose authority, solved with the simplest of notions: let them decide.

The idea had the air of democracy and choice that would be appealing to the negotiators from the Republic.

"But - there can be no question of leaving them as second hand worlds.  If they choose to join the Republic, it will be as full members.  Not languishing like Corellia did for ten years."

The Corellian Senator nodded his head in agreement.  Artemis Soldys was well aware of the feeling of second-class status.  All the easier to get this part of the agreement through.  The other negotiators took the cue, and one more item was checked off the list.

"So, the Hydian-Way worlds will remain under Republic control.  Bastion, Kalee, Muunilinst,  Valc VII, Yaga Minor and Borosk will remain under imperial control, and all the worlds in between - regardless of who currently commands them - will have their choice. We have already settled on the Empire paying for reparations to the Republic for Besh Gorgon, Junction, and Bandomeer.  And we have agreed that Bastion and the Northern Empire will maintain only a defensive positioned fleet. The Empire will have a non-voting representative in the Republic, accompanied by an embassy, with a combined imperial/republic security attachment.  Each entity recognizes the borders with the other, and the other's sovereign right to exist, and agree to an end of hostilities indefinitely."

"And republic inspectors"
"Still a lack of trust?  Very well - republic inspectors will be permitted into imperial space on a routine basis - once every four standard months - to ensure no military build up in the north.  That is the best offer I can give"

Secretary Neis leaned back in his chair, raising a hand to scratch his chin.

"Very well.  It looks like we have a deal."

"It does appear that way"

"It will need to be ratified by the senate before we can make it binding"

Barrett smiled.

"The task is easier for me - I need the approval of a single man."

Neis shook his head, beginning to rise, Trevaithan standing as well.

"Perhaps, to help spur the approval of said agreement, we can arrange for the Emperor or myself to come to Chandaar and appear before the senate?  it would be a signal of our trust and mutual desire to end this conflict"

"I will have to speak with the Speaker about such an arrangment"

"Excellent."

The Republic representatives made their way out of the room, Barrett watching them shuffle out, then turned to an aide.

"Ready my shuttle, and inform the Emperor that I am coming to see him"
"Yes sir"

TBC

[Medivh]

Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril

The Emperor's presence had created tension among the senators.  Barrett could tell which ones were skeptical and which ones were hopeful - there really were only two categories, though a handful of people were both.

Like Senator Soldys of Corellia, whose support was essential to making the treaty go forward, but who clearly still had his reservations.  This visit would help assuage some of the fears held by the lawmakers of the democracy.  The Emperor took the opportunity to meet with dozens of senators, Speaker Leeds moderated, careful to ensure the hatred and resentment held by some parties did not derail the conversations.  The Emperor took the chance to discuss the details of the deal, answer questions of senators, and seek reassurances of his own. 

it was part of the strategy - make sure in every conversation it was clear the EMPIRE was concerned that the REPUBLIC would be the deal breakers.  It put them on the defensive, and allowed for a more smooth path toward ratification. The Emperor was scheduled to appear before the full senate tomorrow, to give a 'prime-time' speech. He had just finished his last small-group session, and was traveling in his armored transport back to the N'Diya building.

Barrett was glancing out the window, watching the buildings go by when the emperor spoke.

"I cannot abide by this method of governance.  Too many heads, arguing, bickering"

Barrett turned to the Emperor.

"It is the REpublic's weakness.  The Empire is strong because it has one voice, strong and unwaivering.  The Republic cannot make up their minds because there are too many"
"Unless they have a common enemy.  If this deal fails, they will have that in us, will they not?"

Barrett gave a thin-lipped smile.

"If we attack them, yes. But until we are aggressors, we are not an enemy they can unite against.  Besides, we have the votes needed to win. Senator Soldys and Senator Ingrat command huge caucuses at opposite ends of the political spectrum.  Their continued agreement to this deal, and the momentum we have will ensure a vote in favor.  And if it takes longer ... it just shows the Republic as weak. Speaker Leeds will use what influence he has to shorten the process as much as possible."

"I will want you to stay on Chandaar when the deal goes through"

"Of course, your emminence"

The silence returned until the vehicle reached their destination, and they filed out.  Once inside, they were greeted by Darth Erinbol.  The sith had insisted on coming on this trip,a nd Emperor Schrag indulged him.  Nonetheless, he was not allowed anywhere near the buildings of governance - nothing would spook the republic from the deal more than knowing a Force-wielding sith was among them.  Barrett himself, though still weak in the abilities of the Force, had spent the last few months training with Erinbol to hide his own Force signature so he could get past the detectors.  Erinbol decided it would be unwise to risk discovery more than necessary.

"Your highness" Erinbol bowed low.
"What do you have to report?"
"We have been invited to Escara Wu's fashion show, scheduled for later this evening."

Schrag lifted an arm dismissively.

"I'm not interested.  Do you have anything meaningful to report?"

Erinbol grinned knowingly

"I foresee everything going to plan.  There is one in this show that you might be interested to meet - again"

Barrett glanced from Darth Erinbol to the Emperor and back again.  Schrag's face was emotionless as he looked at the sith, but finally nodded.

"Very well.  Accept their invitation, and make arrangements for us to meet with her after the show"

The Emperor moved down the corridor and out of sight, Barrett turning to the sith lord.

"Who are we meeting?"

"Princess Dahlia Winton"

Trevaithan gave a look of annoyance.

"the tragic fashion model?  I think I'll pass"

"I insist you go, young Trevaithan.  The meeting - the Emperor's presence is not as important, but it is time you meet her."

"Why? Who is she?"

"She is your destiny"

TBC

[Syren]

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Surface: Serinus

The evening after the Emperor's speech to the Republic Senate, the fashion show commences in Serinus. All the glitterati are there. The convention center, not far from The Menagerie, has been transformed into a luxurious setting where guests arrive to a crimson carpet and lifestyle and culture Holo reporters clamor for a sound bite. Spotlights sway above the venue, giving it all the glamour it deserves.

Kinsa Cavanaugh attends with Janessa Kain and Kaytt Corinthos.

The most important designers are showing this evening and with the New Year comes a shift in fashion. It is more a return to form, an elegant simplicity that defines the upper class. Escara Wu greets celebrities, dignitaries and a few fashion savvy government officials and corrals them into the reception hall.

A section is cordoned off for the Imperial delegation but all that arrives is the Emperor, his young Ambassador, and an ominous looking security detail. The Emperor seems out of place, too rigid for this kind of nonsense. He appears annoyed with the Republic liaison that arrived with them and so Escara steers clear for the moment.

Backstage, everyone is appropriately freaking out.

Quinn paces in a bra, panties and heels in front of Dahlia who sits with her legs crossed in the makeup chair.

"Stop pacing. You are driving me insane."

"What if the Emperor hates it? What if none of us please him and he goes on some psychotic rampage and kills us all?"

"Seriously?"

"I heard he had the Moff Council killed."

"Military advisors are expendable, especially when they don't perform tactically. We're just pretty things wandering around on a glowing stage. Trust me, he doesn't care."

Frankly, she is surprised Schrag is even here. She imagines the conversation in which he was convinced to come and how poorly it went. It makes Dahlia smile that he is taking one for the team and feigning an interest in Republic life when it is quite clear he'd rather be anywhere else. You have to commit to the role in order to sell it. If it's peace he wants, he's going to have to suck it up for the sake of the deal.

Electronic music pulses and lights are dimmed around the stark white runway.

Dahlia walks four times during the show. The lights are too bright to make out anyone in the crowd, reducing the audience to faceless silhouettes. She closes out the show in a Nalaa Grey black, strapless mermaid evening gown. When the lights go down, the applause is deafening. As it should be. These lines will set the stylistic tone for the year.

Afterward, a production assistant hands her a note that directs her to one of the interior conference rooms. She finds Escara Wu coming out of the door.

"Oh, Dahlia! The Emperor wishes to speak with you. What a coup, if I do say so myself. The publicity from his presence is priceless."

Dahlia smiles wanly, waving a hand in front of her face. Escara's mind is frantic but accessible and it clears easily.

"You never saw them here. They never spoke to me."

"I never saw them," Escara says dreamily. "They never spoke to you."

"Good, now go tend to the others. I'm sure someone's had a panic attack by now."

Escara leaves and Dahlia enters the room.

Emperor Schrag stands in the center of the room with a brutally hot boy standing beside him. She is stunning but Barrett has serious reservations about this, made all the more confusing by Erinbol's comments. He had been drawn to her before, on the Holo, back in school, when her kidnapping and subsequent failed rescue attempt made headlines. She appeared next in the Republic capital, having murdered her way to freedom. This was followed by the revelation that she was the last Winton royal.

He had high hopes until she became a model and It-girl for the media. Barrett dismissed her exploits as vapid and wasteful, perpetuating a stereotype about wealthy socialites he found repugnant.

"Emperor Schrag," she says with a flawless curtsy. "How lovely you could join us this evening. We are all honored."

"There is something to be said for certain appearances."

"I could not agree more."

"I do not believe you have met my Ambassador, Barrett Trevaithan. Barrett, this is Princes Dahlia Winton."

She smiles. He does not.

"Yes, I know who you are. The question remains…why are we here?"

"She is an ally."

Barrett's face twists in disgust.

"Her? Forgive me, your highness but I do not see what she can bring to the table."

With a flick of her wrist, Barrett is thrown back against the wall. He slides up toward the ceiling, thrashing, as she closes her fingers together constricting his breath. He gasps and the Emperor watches, amused.

Dahlia arches a brow.

"For starters, I helped rid you of the Jedi by influencing the powers-that-be into passing the F.U.R.A. With the Jedi expelled from Chandaar, it cleared the way for your presence here, one that would not be possible with them meddling in everything. By now Speaker Leeds has been saturated with enough dark energy to make him more susceptible to our agenda."

Barrett is choking, his face turning purple.

"Enough," Schrag hisses lowly. "Dahlia, release him."

She steps back and Barrett crashes to the floor. They wait as he collects himself.

She flashes a satisfied smirk.

"Have you any other questions about my usefulness of shall we play again?"

"Dahlia," Schrag warns.

"I'm just asking. He seems unconvinced."

"No," Barrett sputters, clearing his throat. "I misjudged your strengths and abilities."

"Appearances are made to deceive."

"So I see."

"Is that an apology?"

His jaw tightens, glancing at Schrag whose face is a neutral mask. He then returns his gaze to Dahlia.

"I am sorry I doubted you."

"That's better," she says. "Now, how can I be of assistance?"

Emperor Schrag turns.

"I have a task for you. The intent is to leave a liaison on Chandaar, someone to oversee our interests. I intend to leave Barrett but any Imperial diplomat or ambassador will never be trusted. Our treaty is too new to be widely accepted. There are so many who disapprove, so many who find our motives suspect. While it may appear outwardly shallow, I do recognize your talent for marketing. Perhaps with your profile and the regard in which the public holds you, Barrett's image could be neutralized."

"You want me to make him popular?"

He grimaces.

"A socially accepted liaison would hold more favor. His negotiations with the Republic Senators were tense. They remain wary. I need this to change. Can it be done?"

Dahlia looks Barrett over, "With the right moves."

"I leave that to you."

The Imperial guards collect the Emperor and Barrett is alone with Dahlia.

"This is ridiculous," he says with barely concealed contempt. "I do not need you to legitimize my presence here. I took on Senators twice my age and convinced them this is the best course of action. I can hold my own."

Dahlia glares at him.

"In a board room, perhaps but changing the hearts and minds of the public takes a certain skill set you simply do not possess. When I revealed my identity, there was also backlash and suspicion. A Winton on the loose is a variable that makes some uncomfortable. Now they hang on my every word. The public roots for me. They want to see me succeed. They love a tale of redemption, a story of the victim who overcomes the crisis and rises above it to do something great. All they needed was a change in the narrative, a different perspective from which to view me."

"I think you mistake adoration with sick fascination."

"I think you need an attitude adjustment, mister."

"I don't like you."

"I don't like you either but you are taking me to dinner."

"What?"

"You heard me," Dahlia quips evenly. "You are far too upright. With that approach, no one will ever see you as anything other than an Imperial blowhard. They won't respect someone they can't relate to. In order to alter the public perception of the Empire, you need to humanize it. They need to see you as a reasonable person, not someone full of ulterior motive waiting to exploit this deal for your advantage. Right now, they are waiting for the other shoe to drop. You have to eliminate that fear and to do that you need to appeal to a wider audience."

Although he hates to admit it, there is tactical advantage in her plan. Superficial as it may be. How could Darth Erinbol really view her as his destiny? She is so self-involved it is almost unbearable. She knows nothing of the intricacies of politics or what it takes to deal with a government as large and complex as the Republic. Still, her dark powers are considerable and may be a useful asset to them. Would her talents soften his image enough for the Republic to actually trust him?

Emperor Schrag seems to think so.

"Fine," he sighs. "Dinner it is."



-TBC

[Syren]

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Surface

Barrett reluctantly joins Dahlia at the after-party where she introduces him around to various celebrities and influential Republic society. Her presence seems to negate the Imperial prefix to his title in a way he finds mystifying. No one seems to care about his affiliation as much as they do that Dahlia's hand is on his arm. The reception is warmer than expected and she expertly evades all inquiries. He speaks only when spoken to and even then his responses are carefully measured.

Everywhere they go, people call Dahlia's name and there is a seemingly endless barrage of air kisses and idle gossip. He tries to keep the distain from registering on his face.

As a student on Byss he had never been one to socialize. Barrett never saw the value in cavorting around with the privileged and entitled. His only friend at the Carida Academy, Quentin, is really the one person with which he found camaraderie. The Emperor and Darth Erinbol had to be interacted with tactfully as each held their own agenda for him.

Now he feels like a prop in Dahlia's pretentious little world.

The only one who seems remotely alarmed at his presence is the Corporate Sector liaison, Janessa Kain whom Dahlia swears would be a vital contact in the future. Everyone else treats him like a shiny new toy and they want to know all about him.

Dahlia senses his discomfort and steers him out of the party.

"That's enough for now," she says, pulling a shawl around her shoulders.

"You could have just shot me. That would have been less painful."

She rolls her eyes up.

"Don't be so melodramatic. People need to see you actually participating in and enjoying Republic life if you are going to have a presence here. You need to appear receptive and conciliatory to their ways. Embrace them and they will embrace you. Also, it wouldn't kill you to smile."

"It might."

"Scowling causes wrinkles."

"I'll risk it."

She crosses her arms.

"Well, I certainly have my work cut out for me. Maybe a nice meal will soften your mood."

"Couldn't hurt."

They take a hoverlimo out of Serinus and return to Ambaril. Inverness Park East is the latest in the food scene and they stride into the packed lobby of the newest hot spot, Humboldt. She takes his hand and moves right through the crowd to the host stand. He tries to pull free but her grip is like a vice. The host glances up and smiles.

"Princess Dahlia, will you dining with us tonight?"

"Yes, for two please."

"Right this way."

No one in the crowd even blinks and he follows them through the packed space in confusion.

"Don't you need reservations?"

"Normal people do."

"Wow, bitch much?" he mumbles as they arrive at the table.

She nods to the host and then narrows her eyes at him.

"A bitch who can snap you in half without lifting a finger. Now sit."

Barrett sits without another word, his throat still tender from when she nearly Force choked him to death. She smiles and leans forward.

"I'm trying to help you so do me a favor and lighten up."

"I'm not…this isn't really my thing."

"What? Eating? Maker, I get enough of that from Quinn. I thought the way to all boys' hearts was through their stomachs?"

"You're trying to get to my heart?"

"No," she says quickly, sitting back. "It's just, like, a thing people say."

"Interesting."

"Oh, get over yourself."

Barrett studies her closely, "You don't date much, do you?"

"This isn't a date, its dinner and strategy. However, we will let people believe it's a date because it will be widely discussed and raise your profile. We need the Holo to talk about you in a positive way."

"I'm not sure dining with you is the way to go then."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, didn't your family do some fucked up shit?"

"So?"

"So, you aren't as adored as you think you are. People are suspicious, possibly even terrified. You said it yourself; a Winton on the loose is a variable not everyone is comfortable with. They may be waiting for me to have an ulterior motive but they are also waiting for you to go bat-shit crazy and take a whole lot of people down with you."

She smiles tightly.

"It is nice to know you understand how this game works but you are forgetting one thing."

"What's that?"

"I wasn't raised by my family. I was raised by upstanding and well respected people in the Corporate Sector before I was kidnapped and tortured but somehow managed to survive and fight my way to freedom."

"Yes, by murdering someone. Cheers!"

"Since when does the Empire have the moral high ground?"

Barrett shrugs.

"I'm just saying, the Republic is as wary of you as they are of me."

"Point taken but only one of us has done anything about it. I've worked long and hard to ensure they hold me in high regard. By all outward appearances, I'm a role model who may be a bit superficial but doesn't invite much scandal. I've intentionally made myself out to be benign, the antithesis of my family who left nothing but a trail of blood and tears where ever they went."

"As long as you believe that."

"You are infuriating."

"And you can't take it. I have to let you boss me around for the sake of some reputation but I'm not allowed to point out the flaws in your logic?"

"It's not flawed," Dahlia hisses contemptuously while still managing to look incredibly poised and beautiful. "You are making this more difficult than it has to be."

"I think you need someone to knock you down a few pegs."

"That someone has to be you?"

"Might as well be so long as I have to suffer through this."

She groans.

"It's just so terrible that you have to act like a civilized person to win the favor of your newfound peers. No one is ever going to want to deal with you if you act like some pompous jerk."

"Says you."

"Look, the Senate is divisive and more conniving than you even realize. They have the home field advantage here. They will take you down if they see the slightest opportunity so now is not the time to get cocky. Not everyone wants peace with the Empire. They feel you are too great a threat. I can help you change that."

Barrett levels his gaze across the table and ceases posturing.

"So what do you want?"

"What?"

"You heard me," he says evenly. "Everyone may not want a truce with the Empire but what about you? The Emperor said you are an ally and a secret one at that so I have wonder what your angle is."

She goes for coy, acting offended.

"I have to have an angle?"

"I am not that dense, Princess. Everyone has an agenda. I want to know what yours is. Why help our cause, what do you get out of it?"

"The satisfaction of knowing I helped topple the Republic from within."

"You hate the Republic?"

"I hate what they stand for. It's so provincial and altruistic I could just puke."

He smiles for the first time.

"Then what?"

"That's none of your damn business but….you are much less hostile when you smile."

After dinner, she has the hoverlimo drop him at his hotel.

"This evening wasn't entirely unbearable."

"That's a start," she says.

"How much longer are you in town?"

"Aw, missing me already?"

He sighs, reaching for the door. She grabs his arm.

"Another week or so. We can work on your image in the interim. I will give you enough pointers to make due until I return."

"What would I do without you?"

"Sarcasm doesn't look good on you."

"Who are you kidding?" he says with a sly smile. "Everything looks good on me."

Dahlia watches him walk up the steps and disappear inside the hotel lobby. He doesn't even look back which annoys her more than it should. She instructs the driver to take her back to The Menagerie. The multi-colored lights blur as the limo weaves in and out of traffic lanes. Barrett had hit a nerve and made her question just how secure the worlds are with her in it. True, the name Winton does conjure some pretty unpleasant things but she has spent a great deal of time and energy shoring up her reputation to set it apart from her family. The Emperor has faith in her and that says something. Still, she wonders what Adubell has at stake here.

As she refuses to be used by her Master, she doesn't want Barrett to be used by Schrag or Erinbol either. They throw around the word 'destiny' like it's inevitable but Dahlia has a more direct approach to her future. She doesn't want it being decided by everyone else, the same way it was with Karen and Alexia. The Emperor, Adubell; they are means to an end so she would play her role and play it well.

Barrett Trevaithan will be the toast of this town.

Dahlia will make sure of that.




-TBC

[Syren]

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Over the next few days, Emperor Schrag and Barrett meet with many Senators as well as Speaker Leeds. There is much to discuss in the terms of the truce, semantics and practicalities that would forge lasting peace. These conversations are often contentious and grueling as the opinions and suspicions make their way into the discussion.

There is a reception to be held with several prominent government figures following the peace talks but the social aspects of such an event give him pause. He is calculating and formidable with the Senators but the notion of hours long polite small talk requires reinforcements. He reluctantly calls on Dahlia. They had seen each twice since the night of the fashion show, each encounter furthering his integration into the collective consciousness. She is not at all surprised to hear from him but plays it that way.

"You…want me to attend the reception with you?"

"That's why I called, didn't I? Also, this isn't a date either. In case you were wondering."

"I wasn't."

"Okay good, glad that's cleared up."

"Tell me again how you can wheel and deal with a bunch of politicians yet somehow fail to convincingly interact with others in a social setting?"

"I'm hanging up."

"No, you aren't. I want to hear you say it."

Barrett mumbles something.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I need your help."

He can almost hear her satisfied smile across the channel.

"There it is. Pick me up at six."

Hours later, dressed in a fitted black tuxedo that Dahlia had sent over with a tailor who was a little too hand-sy, he waits at the entrance of The Menagerie. She takes an excruciatingly long time to come down, a deliberate move to make him anxious. He is pacing in front of the transport when she appears through the door. She is effortlessly stunning in a tight, black, strapless mermaid gown. Her crimson hair is left down with classic waves that pull into tighter curls near the ends. Her eyes are shadowed with a gradient of charcoal and black, setting off her emerald eyes that not surprisingly match the jewels on her black clutch. Then there is her mouth, stained a deeper red, which he cannot help but stare at.

"Well?"

He snaps out of it and shrugs, "Eh."

Her face falls.

"I hate you."

"Don't be mad I'm not one of your many minions fawning over you with compliments. Being hot doesn't make you a better person."

"Doesn't it though?"

"Trust me when I tell you that your delusions are in no way endearing."

She takes his arm, "We all know that's not true."

In the transport, they are taken out of Serinus and back through Five Points to the government district of Ambaril.

"I hope you brushed up on current events."

"The what?" she feigns, rolling her eyes. "Why yes, mister Trevaithan, I am knowledgeable about a great many things."

"I am certain you will regale them with your vast expanse of popular culture."

"Give me some credit."

"Contrary to popular belief, social climbing is not a skill set."

"Seldom right and wrong again, B. You are going to have to perfect it in order to navigate their endless array of bullshit speculation and paranoia. The Republic isn't going to wake up tomorrow and suddenly trust you. That trust has to be earned and since I don't see that happening any time soon due your stunted emotional range and general lack of basic social skills, we're going to have to resort of manipulation in order for them to believe it."

"Believe what?"

"That you are serious about wanting this. Peace. To them, peace isn't a word they thought was in your vernacular. They need to be reassured you aren't holding out or planning to take advantage of this opportunity to prove them right about you. They have such low expectations of you as a person. Surprise them."

"And you are just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"You have no idea."

Barrett leans back and crosses his arms.

"What do I get if I succeed?"

Dahlia runs a hand across her breasts, down her stomach and into her lap.
 
"Not this, I can tell you that much."

He frowns.

She narrows her eyes.

"Focus! Emperor Schrag is never going to be seen as a viable confidante. He's all rough edges and ruthlessness. That's why you need to be the one who sells it. If you want to change the way they see the Empire, you have to be both intelligent and approachable. They have been receptive so far and that's a good start. Make them want to get to know you or at least the version of yourself we need them to believe. If they see you as a decent person, this can work."

"What if I'm not a decent person?"

"Then you are going to have to suck it up for the sake of the endgame."

The transport stops near the courthouse as the driver exits to open the door for them. Barrett steps out first then offers a hand. She steps out and stands beside him while the press turns to capture the moment. Their names are shouted, his as well as hers. She smiles demurely.

"They are curious. Don't disappoint."

Barrett attempts a smile of his own and she takes his arm in support, walking past the courthouse to the Ambaril Art Musem where the reception is being held. They are greeted by Senators, city council and nearly every facet of Republic society. Dahlia takes the lead, as most are familiar with her and her story of survival, and steers him through the welcoming committee. She holds her own marvelously with a robust knowledge of Republic affairs tinged with news from The Corporate Sector. Barrett chimes in at all the right times, taking cues as she squeezes his arm. He skirts having to share his upbringings with references to time at the Academy. Although not everyone can relate to the military experience, it is something they can respect.

As Barrett and Dahlia wander back through the exhibits, Senator Artemis Soldys stops beside Janessa Kain thoughtfully taking in an early impressionist work. She faces the painting; he faces the room with eyes following the liaison and princess.
 
"What do you think of that?"

She tilts her head.

"Troubling."

"I wasn't talking about the piece."

"Nor was I," she says, raising a glass of champagne before walking away.

Back in the abstract wing, Dahlia stops in front of a massive gray-washed canvas. It contains two sets of black, cloudy spirals on opposite corners with a jagged crimson streak running left of the center.

"Do you know who this is?"

Barrett squints at it, "I'm not really into the whole art scene."

"There's a shocker," Dahlia mutters. "It is a Bastien McNeal."

"Why does that sound familiar?"

"Because one of my sisters dated his son and the other threw him off a skyscraper."

"That's…teamwork?"

"Not exactly. My parents had a piece commissioned for their vacation residence on Hesperidium. This was long before the whole, you know, Coruscant boom thing. I got to see it for the first time last summer. It's one of the most moving pieces I have seen but this one may even be more stirring."

"Fascinating. I thought you said we had to focus."

"Relax, you did great. I told you being pretty and personable goes a long way."

"You talked around them and they ate it up like fools."

"I gave them nothing they could use, just an impression of who we are. The trick is to always have them wanting more. The Academy bit was an inspired touch. They think highly of valor and discipline."

"What do you think?"

"That you are full of shit but managing remarkably well."

"Are you always this frigid?"

Dahlia turns.

"Says the calculating Imperial cohort. Take a memo, sweetie. Get over yourself. We're here to create a positive public of you not shamelessly flirt our way into some kind of tryst."

"What? No fringe benefits? I thought that was the point of politics."

"I don't have time for boys."

"Then who is that boy I see you with on feeds from The Sector?"

"Cyber-stalking is not sexy."

"Don't flatter yourself. I needed some supplementary information seeing as you have given me virtually none about who you really are or what you really want. You may dazzle the crowds with your charisma and charm but I think the only reason you are helping me to further your own agenda."

"For the moment our agendas align. Pray it stays that way."

"Ladies and gentlemen, my mysterious date."

"This isn't a date remember?"

"I asked you. You came. There is food and activities. I'd say this qualifies so I'm revising my earlier statement."

"That's entrapment."

"Admit it; you are having a good time. You love soaking up all the attention that contributes to the expansion of your brand and I'm gaining invaluable knowledge on how to fake my way through a social event. It's a win-win."

Dahlia laughs.

"Am I having a good time or just making you believe it?"

"You aren't that good."

She starts to walk past him, "Guess you'll never know."

He ropes her waist with his arm and pulls her toward him. A part of him wants to strangle her but the other finds himself overcome with desire. As their lips touch, there is a spark accompanied by flashes.

blue smoke pulled apart into shapes, three sabers across a glowing orange sphere casting a shadow upon two thrones

They gasp, stepping away from each other. For a moment they stand staring at each other. The feeling was incredible but the images confusing. They return to the reception as if nothing had happened.

Dahlia leaves in the morning with Georgie piloting the royal cruiser.

As they make the jump into hyperspace, she catches a glance of Chandaar behind them and brings a finger to her lips.



-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

It filled Barrett with contempt.   Was this really how democracy worked? Get enough shouting, and the votes go your way?  With an Empire, a strong hand made strong decisions.  that was the way it should be.

Still, he put on appearances. If there was one thing Dahlia Winton had drilled into his head, it was that appearances were everything. He had played the politics well until now, but she had aided him in endearing himself to the greater public.

Barrett watched from an ante room as the winning votes were cast, preparing to step out to meet with the Emperor.

What he got was a barrage of press.  Constant flashing of cameras, and reports of every shape and size trying to shove a camera in a gap between the bodies.  Two stormtroopers are preparing to shove the press aside, but Barrett is thinking on his lesson, and holds them back.  He offers a smile to the crowd, listening to the shouts of questions.

"Mr. Trevaithan, how do you feel about this vote?"
"Can the Empire truly be trusted?"
"What will this peace look like?"
"Who will be the imperial liaison to the republic?"

He tried controlling the crowd, offering platitudes of peace and prosperity, but questions kept coming, turning more personal.

"What do you think of Chandaar?"
"How do you feel being an imperial AND a republic celebrity?"

"What do you think of Dahlia Winton?"

He paused, listening to the click of cameras, his mind wandering to the date with Dahlia, their kiss.  He absently raised a finger to his lips, before catching himself, lowering his hand and smiling at the crowd.

"I can honestly say, she is nothing like what I expected."

TBC

[Syren]

Byss: Imperial Capital

Deep within the Citadel, Emperor Schrag wanders the dim corridors.

There is promising news out of every corner of the Holo. The Republic now looks to the Empire to assist in fortifying their borders while casting a negative light on a questionable Corellia. They had fought long and hard to be a part of the Republic yet now the CEC is withholding their resources. It only serves to strengthen their position to a still skeptical public. And while reactions may be mixed to their presence and intentions, Barrett's popularity is undeniable thanks in no small part to Princess Dahlia Winton. The younger generation sees them as part of a united future, one with so many possibilities. Even the highest ranking advisors see advantage in his tact. He has done well to ingratiate himself with their operations and way of life.

Speaker Leeds has been corrupted by dark energy flowing beneath his office, leaving him susceptible to their influence. A solution was offered to combat resistance to the Force User Registration Act and Darth Erinbol dispatched their asset.

Rutherford Gellar and Celeste Masterton are dead. Two of the last three with ties to the past are gone, clearing the way for unfettered access to The New Four. The final subject is the reason for his visit. Schrag maneuvers through restricted areas and stops by a lab where his dutiful minions toil away, pulling strings behind the curtain. Max and Xam are certifiable but their ethically carefree genius continues to make them useful. They were able to render ChemiX's tech, a feat that had won his praise. The investment proved more profitable than anyone had realized.

The long, black workbench is covered in microscopes, vials, and electronic chips and surrounded by monitors containing various algorithms, formulas and extrapolated data. There are two monitors that each have a humanoid face fixed in the left hand corner with vitals streaming below it.

They both look up at the same moment.

"My liege," Max says.

Xam bows, "How may we serve you?"

"An informal progress report, if you will. We rely on your machinations to tip the scales."

They both seem very pleased by the compliment.

"Vex Sienna is firmly under our control and has executed orders flawlessly. Three of The Four are much more accessible than ever before. The forth still has ties and is heavily guarded on Corellia although the loss of his aunt gives us vulnerability. We do not yet have an asset on that front."

"Are those in place currently stable?"

"No long term effects have been studied but Sienna appears to be holding up relatively well given the extreme shifts in personality, motive and actions."

"He remembers nothing?"

"We allowed him to remember Kylie Miranda as a warning but he has no memory of killing the others although he may suspect as much. It should keep him from getting close to anyone else but there is a new development we have our eyes on."

"Such as?"

"A new lady."

"Who?"

"Janessa Kain."

"She is the Republic liaison to the Corporate Sector, with a murderous streak if I remember correctly. Is she a threat?"

"Their positions with respective factions would require some interaction. However, we did an extensive background on her and the results were rather..."

"…colorful."

"Nothing that would be a liability to us with the exception of one connection."

Max taps on a keypad and brings up another face along with photage stills of a landing platform, interior of a bar, outside the Gellar Tower.

"Garron Prescott."

Schrag narrows his eyes – a potential loose end.

"Monitor them and report any anomalies. Sienna may be needed if the situation turns. I am curious about the application. What makes this different and how can you certain we won't lose control?"

They glance at each other with a menacing glee.

"Early versions of the tech were unsuccessful for a variety of reasons."

"Traditional implants placed directly in the brain were highly unstable and carried excessive risk of trauma or death."

"The Price girl proved much more promising given her extensive brainwashing in our chambers. We were going to use her against Sienna in the end but that would have been…."

"..Counterproductive to our current goals."

"This method contains fewer variables?" Schrag asks. 

"The nano tech in Gellar's serum allows us to overlay personality imprints of anyone we wish. In Sienna's case, a ruthless killer with a vendetta against the Four families for their treachery against the Empire. The serum allows the upload and imprinting of education and skills that can act in tandem to their own or as a completely separate individual with an entirely different set of ethics and motives."

He glances to the other screen.

"Excellent. And her?"

"Quinn Cavanaugh is our sleeper in the Republic capital we used to carrying out the bombing."

"She will act as the princess' counterpart when she returns in the Fall."

"Miss Cavanaugh has been imprinted with latent advanced combat skills and weapons training which can be accessed through a coding sequence, turning her from clueless model to vicious killer."

"Her dormancy remains due to Barrett's success. If he had failed to convince the Senator's, she would have been activated to sway things in our favor. However, it appears someone else has taken up the mantle of further tarnishing the Jedi's reputation."

Schrag crosses his arms, "Operations outside our scope."

"We are monitoring that as well although the identity of the assailant does match that of a Jedi Master once housed on Chandaar. It could be backlash from their actions against Force Sensitive's."

"Unlikely," he says. "This is too extreme even for them. I need to know more."

"Of course, your Highness."

"What of the wayward Winton?"

"Reports indicate that Dahlia is grieving. Her enforcer in the Sector was eliminated and she is currently on holiday on Hesperidium."

"She should not be left unattended. We do not want these emotions to cloud her judgment."

"How would you like us to proceed?"

"Utilize the asset we have. Agent Swire was sent to keep her on track so I suggest he pay her a visit to ensure her vision aligns with ours. Have his transcripts routed to Chandaar where he will join her at University."

Max grins, "Positive reinforcement."

Emperor Schrag towers over the workbench.

"Only if she is compliant."




-TBC

[Syren]

When I close my eyes

I’m climbing in the dark

Trying not to fall apart

Sometimes I get so high

Falling is the only out I see

And I don't wanna take you down with me

-Illenium

Hyperspace

Dahlia stares out into the swirling blue and white stars as they race toward the Imperial center on Byss. She’s never been but heard loads, mostly from Barrett, about the strangeness of the place. The glow, the dark energies, and so on. Her insistence to meet with the Emperor is marred by the shadows of her own family and only something she truly considered after they had departed. She had been distracted by Quentin Swire's shock at her request and he predictably tried to talk her out of it, to no avail obviously.


She's got other things on her mind.

The Winton’s have ties to Byss. That documentary, Bound by Blood, was fairly compelling if not entirely skewed to make The Four out to be tragic, beautiful, and flawed victims of a vast conspiracy beyond their control. Juicy drama aside, Alexia Winton was made out to be an unstable maniac obsessed with the life Karen Winton had but the truth was their father was behind it all. Most of it anyway. Everyone else was either an accomplice, patsy, or stooge; all of which was clearly expendable. The property on Byss, held in the Winton name, was apparently destroyed by Karen and a replica of Valerie Gellar. Even the knock-off showed up to cause trouble, what a surprise. The details on the matter were hazy and glossed over in the holodoc as part of Karen’s story of rebellion against their father and redemption arc which only ended with her death on Centerpoint.

No one alive knows how it ended.

No one except Dahlia…only because that bitch Adubell showed her.

The photage. Those last fateful moments. Karen Winton, redeemed and rational, was cut down by Melanie Masterton. The last of the information about what she had been doing on Byss and elsewhere in the galaxy blew up on that station. Hell, it may have even died with her adoptive parents. Who knows what they were holding close to the chest from all of them.

Now they are alone and careening toward a crossroads.

Barrett startles her out of her thoughts, “We’re almost there.”

He pulls on the controls as his shuttle exits hyperspace between their third and fourth moon. As they neared Byss, the blueish green haze becomes starker and alluring. She turns, glancing over at his stoic face as he navigates.

“Happy to be home?”

“Not entirely, no.”

It was rough for him on Byss, having a tumble of a time at the Tarkin Academy before being shipped off to Carida. He was all business all the time, conditioned to be a soldier and a ruthless killer. He had the chops and a little something extra – a connection to the Force no one could explain. Not entirely sensitive but enough in tune with it to leverage it to his advance in battle. Combined with his tactical prowess, this made Barrett Trevaithan a formidable adversary and one the Emperor quickly moved on. She’d pressed him on these details some time ago but he was evasive and inarticulate. Oh, those were the days before she taught him how to socialize like a normal humanoid. Popularity, she bemoaned, has its perks. Barrett was a quick study and it made him a far more interesting and even match for her and her cunning ways.

“Don’t be so glum, darling. We don’t have to stay long. Now land us safely while I freshen up.”

He laughs, “This isn’t going to be some kind of media spectacle."

“That’s what you think. Besides, I’m not going to argue with you again on the merits of looking fantastic everywhere.”

He is cleared to land in his secured spot in the Imperial Citadel and touches down lightly. Barrett has a peculiar feeling about all of this. He’d arranged the meeting half-expecting Schrag to turn her down but surprisingly he was up for it. Now he is curious to see how she’ll play it but he knows, deep down, Dahlia is going to get herself in trouble if she’s not careful.

Barrett waits for her by the ramp controls and when she appears, she is stunning beyond words. The deep blue gown tapers into flecks of green that not only amplify her crimson hair and emerald eyes but seem to be a polite nod to their sun.

As if reading him, she smiles deviously.

“Not an accident.”

She takes his arm and they descend to the bay floor below. There are a few rows of trooper standing at attention, befitting his position. There is a glint of light off the black cam-droids hovering above to capture the moment, just as she predicted. Barrett wonders why this would even warrant such coverage but her name means something.

It always has.

Darth Erinbol waits at the end of the receiving line, bowing slightly before raising his head to stare beneath the wide hood.

“Welcome home, Ambassador Trevaithan and welcome, your Highness. It is an honor to have you as our guest.”

Dahlia performs flawlessly, of course.

“The honor is mine, and I am humbled by your gracious hospitality.”

Erinbol motions through the blast doors.

Dahlia nods and follows him.

Barrett watches her walk away slowly, heels echoing on the polished black floor, glancing back and touching her chin to her exposed shoulder with a look he can barely decipher. He has seen her play many roles in many situations. She is more versatile and cleverer than he would have expected for someone who survived such torture. Perhaps it is what made her this way. He cares about her, dare he say loves her, but he doesn’t really know her. Not in the way he should by this point in their relationship. Which version is the true one? They had both grappled with and survived adversity in their youths but he leveraged it to become what he is now. She may have as well but in doing so, did it fractured that persona into a mysterious and surreal chameleon whose true colors will never be known?

She glazes into a blur on the periphery before vanishing around the corner.

Barrett knows that the most terrifying thing may yet be revealed as who Princess Dahlia Winton really is.

-TBC

[Syren]

Byss

Surface: Imperial Citadel

Barrett’s quarters are sparsely furnished but befitting his rank. Not exactly the kind of posh setting the princess is used to although she had toned it down a bit for the dorm suite in order to humanize herself in her role as an academic. Darth Erinbol had inquired if she preferred her own quarters but she declined and opted to stay with Barrett, a decision that excited him more than he anticipated.

  

Dahlia’s always been cagey about affection, despite their growing relationship, which he attributed to her torture at the hands of the Sith. She isn’t a prude, per se, but more measured than most of the girls her age. When they first met, he assumed she had plenty of suitors and while she admitted to some taking an interest, she had been more focused on her studies and the aspects of popularity he is still getting used to. Of course, this nonchalant aversion gives her an enigmatic quality that makes him want her even more. 

Currently, she is standing in the bathroom in a towel within perfect view, staring at her own reflection. 

“When do we meet with Schrag?”

“Tonight,” Barrett says. “He’s holding a dinner in our honor.”

“How fabulous.”

Her tone is one of casual annoyance which irks him but also brings a smile to his face. 

“I do hope you are going to behave.”

“Do you? Or do you hope I rile him up into getting what we came for?”

“A little of both, I guess. The Emperor is a man of principle with little patience for your bourgeois antics.”

She turns from the mirror, “Fancy word for a fancy man.”

“He may have indulged you on Chandaar but he won’t here. You need to be tactful in your approach if you hope to get what you want.”

“I can be tactful when it suits me.”

“I hope it suits you tonight,” Barrett says, propping himself up on the bed. "Otherwise, you may find yourself on the receiving end of his wrath."

“Trust me, it pales in comparison to mine. He doesn’t trust me even though I’ve more than proven my value. The artifact has been seeping dark energy into the Speakers chambers for over a year because of which we have unprecedented influence in the Senate. The Republic has either eradicated or driven away anyone with Force sensitivity. I turned Quinn, one of my only friends in the capital, into a killer you can control. And what do I get in return? A vile babysitter who makes fraternity system look like saints.”

“Come on, don’t you think that’s a little harsh? Quentin’s a friend.”

“Not a very good one,” she mutters. 

He shifts his weight on the bed, “You’re a complex character, Dahlia Winton.”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“If you’re up for the challenge.”

“You’ll find I’m up for a lot of things.”

She slides a hand down the door frame slowly, “I’ll bet.”

“Tease. You really think the Empire has Garron?”

“Yes, and I think we’re being kept in the dark about what’s really going on. My sisters were kept in the dark and look what happened to them.”

Barrett regards her curiously, careful how to broach the subject of her family. Her biological family. She’s ever really only spoken of them in an abstract and detached way which makes sense because she never knew them. Not in the way she did her adoptive parents and siblings. He can’t tell if it’s a sore subject or if that cool exterior is just a mask for that indescribable rage. 

“You aren’t your sisters.”

“Clearly,” she quips wryly. “I’m better.”

Her pink com bleeps from the nightstand. He glances over and slides it toward him. 

“Speaking of family ties, it’s your brother.”

She groans, moving across the room to retrieve it, “He’s not my brother.”

“Biology doesn’t always make someone family.”

The concept resonates more deeply than she’s willing to admit but she ignores the comment and answers. 

“Dane. To what do I owe this massive honor?”

“Shut up, Dahlia. For once.”

“Off on a positive note, I see. Are we in a mood?”

“We’re in trouble and I need your help.”

The blatant nature of the statement jars her into full attention. She straightens up, turning away from Barrett looking her over on the bed, and lowers her tone. 

Maybe there is something to that family thing. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I have a proposition for you.”

-TBC

[Syren]

“I'd trade my money
And all of my youth
To settle the score with you.

Bang, bang
Pull the trigger, trigger.
Bang bang.”

-The New Respects

Byss

Surface: Imperial Citadel

Tonight’s the night.

Dahlia emerges wearing a beaded green gown with a plunging neckline and dark shimmering heels. Her eyes are shaded and smoked out, amplifying the emerald color. With lips stained a deep red and hair perfectly tousled and falling down over her shoulders, she is a striking vision of a singular statement: deal with this.

She takes Barrett’s arm as they begin to walk down the corridor to the lifts. He is outfitted in all black, an Imperial suit that seems made to accentuate his muscular features. There is only a low level of dread coursing through him as she has yet to reveal her hand. The conversation with Dane was heard only one-sided and she kept her dialog clipped and formal yet traced with an empathy he had not heard before. She agreed to something but remained evasive afterward.

The great hall has been set for their arrival; a feast with décor tailored specifically to royalty. Barrett is impressed the Emperor made these arrangements. Schrag is not one for sentiment nor does he care much for the material pleasures most rulers surround themselves with. This setup implies motive and he wonders if Dahlia senses the same. The dread begins to creep more prominently within him as he realizes why the meeting was agreed to: The Emperor wants something from her.

Dahlia and Barrett near the table when the door across the room hisses open. Two Imperial Royal Guards enter the room followed by Emperor Schrag then the remaining four guards. It seems excessive, given their compliment, which means more than he doesn't trust her.

The Emperor fears her.

There are the slightest pulls of a smile on Dahlia’s lips as Barrett imagines she arrives at the same conclusion. Aside from her assaulting him with the Force when they first met, he has not seen her display anything remotely alarming or dangerous. Perhaps Schrag knows better.

He nods to Barrett then trains his gaze on Dahlia.

“Princess Winton,” he says with a tone of amusement as if the words feel strange in his mouth. “You’ve called on me and I have answered.”

In truth, she is not the first Princess Winton he’s known. In fact, she is not even the second. Many years ago, he crossed paths with Alexia as an instructor at the Carida Academy. She was vengeful, defiant, and unstable but held a darkness so complete it humbled. She cared not for such titles whereas later, with Karen, those meant everything as she seemed to float across the bridge of the late Emperor Dementat’s command destroyer. Darth Kyja, she was called, but both were fools in their own ways. One sought revenge while the other sought redemption. Now, he stands before the third Winton sister. As vain as Karen and as venomous as Alexia, from what he’s been told. One can never be too careful with such a balance.

She bows regally, “Your Highness, I am honored you accepted.”

“Please, sit.”

They surround an intricately set table and enjoy the wine and an assortment of expertly prepared food. Conversation is light, to start, hovering mainly over sentiments in the Republic. Their borders are secure, fleets reinforced by the might of the Empire. Speaker Leeds keeps vigilant that the Force User Registration Act must be enforced to ensure peace. Chandaar is patrolled by a newly empowered and emboldened RSB, transforming their cosmopolitan democracy into something more militant-minded.

They toast to it but Dahlia holds her glass high.

“I have news that will please you.”

Schrag turns, “You have my undivided attention.”

“My adoptive siblings are still underage, at least for several more months. The issue of their guardianship has recently come up what with the untimely death of our parents.”

Our.

Barrett swallows most of his glass of wine.

If Emperor Schrag is unsettled, he does not show it.

“Your associate, Vex Sienna, has petitioned for their guardianship. As you can imagine, this news has not gone over well. Dane does not like to be controlled and has serious concerns about the Imperial stake in his company.”

“And Gemma?”

“Currently out-out-pocket but not for long. Once Dane was able to reach her with this news he convinced her to return to the Corporate Sector.”

Emperor Schrag allows a small smile, “Where Sienna will undoubtedly be granted his petition?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Dahlia…”

“No?”

It is not a word he is used to hearing and his tone is reflective of that. She lets the pause linger just enough to be excruciating.

“Dane has asked that I assume guardianship of he and Gemma until they are of age. I accepted because although they believe they have wrestled control away from the Empire, they have no idea that they just willingly handed themselves over to us.”

The Emperor is pleased indeed and he calls for more wine to celebrate.

“You impress me, princess. More so than I anticipated. This is a tactical advantage that can further our goals.”

“And what goals are those?”

He takes a careful sip and regards her more seriously like he is debating a course of action. Can a Winton realty be trusted? Only if she plays a central role in certain plans.

“There is a reason we have such a pointed interest in ChemiX and it has everything to do with an enzyme in the Gellar gene that is extremely valuable. One that can bring life where there is none.”

Barrett has only heard this in speculation from the media, that Valerie Gellar’s genetics were somehow used to create the Baron Phage which led to the occupation of Corellia and her eventual murder at his hands. Dahlia has heard it before...from Adubell. It's how she exists in her current form. If Rutherford Gellar or anyone else knew about this, they kept it under wraps and well within the secured confines of the ChemiX labs.

Now things begin to make sense; Vex’s presence in the Corporate Sector, playing on his past proximity to Valerie, to ingratiate himself with the Gellar-Masterton family. Kylie Miranda must have been means to an end – her end, apparently. And both Rutherford and Celeste.

“As of now, Irulan Reeves controls ChemiX. Sienna does not have access and although there was a previous attempt to procure this material, the sample was not viable. We believe it was a decoy and that Rutherford Gellar knew exactly what this gene could do. Your guardianship duties provide you with a rare opportunity. We must acquire this gene with a fresh sample in order for our associates to test it.”

She seizes the opening.

“Of course, I can leverage my presence to acquire the sample but there is the issue of assurance and full transparency.”

The Emperor leans incredulously against the table, “You have stipulations?”

“Three actually,” she says evenly. “First, Quentin Swire reports directly to me. I understand he was sent to keep an ever-watchful eye over my activities but by now you realize I’m quite capable of handling myself. However, he and the nano-controlled assassin Quinn would be useful should any unforeseeable variables arise. I'll need them both at my disposal. After all, we don’t want to compromise Barrett’s position within the Republic government.”

Schrag glances at Barrett then back at her.

“I suppose you are right. Done. The second?”

“What happened to Garron Prescott?”

“Who?”

The flicker of memories from his mind are easy enough to pull. It is an automatic response triggered by the name and she knows exactly how to extract it without him ever realizing it.

“You know who. You relinquished custody of Rutherford Gellar to him after he was apprehended at The Wheel. He accompanied Gemma to Chandaar but never returned to D’ian.”

“And you think we have him?”

“I do.”

The Emperor taps something on the arm of his chair and within moments Darth Erinbol appears through the door. As Erinbol approaches, Schrag leans back.

“I may not share the devotion to their religion but I understand the value of the Sith’s power. There are some things better explained by those with commonalities between them.”

He motions and Erinbol nears.

“Our efforts to purge the Force users from the Republic capital has not gone unaided. There needed to be a guiding force, something that could grow with the whispers and drive away those it could not catch with fear. Before leaving Chandaar, Gemma Masterton faced Inquisitor Involis. It is Involis that has hunted the Jedi around Chandaar and throughout the galaxy. Involis sought to end Masterton but failed and captured Garron Prescott instead.”

“Failed? You’re telling me Gemma got the jump on an Inquisitor?”

Barrett stifles a laugh and clears his throat. Erinbol continues.

“A slight of hand cost him this victory but removed the last protections from Masterton and Gellar.”

Dahlia glares at him, “How fortuitous. Is he alive?”

“This I cannot confirm, only that he was taken and can be…useful.”

“Now you know,” Schrag interjects sharply, causing Erinbol to draw back. “What is your third stipulation?”

Dahlia sets her glass down and never misses a beat.

“Did you have anything to do with the death of my parents?”

Both Erinbol and Barrett are stunned.
 
It is issued almost like a challenge but Emperor Schrag does not break her gaze.

She wanted this; a showdown.

“If by your parents you mean Rutherford Gellar and Celeste Masterton then yes, I did. It may not have been by my hand but it was on my orders. They posed certain risks we could simply no longer afford. Not with the truce and certainly not with Gemma Masterton and Riley Patten running around drumming up sympathy for unworthy causes.”

“And just who, pre-tell, had the honors of carrying out such an order?”

“Why the very one you’ve snatched the guardianship out from under. He, like your model friend, can be controlled. Strange how cyclical life is sometimes.”

She smiles but really, she’s internally screaming.

“It is, isn’t it? I appreciate the trust you've shown me.”

“So, you will both do as I command. Barrett will continue pushing our agenda on Chandaar and you will bring me the Gellar sample when you return to D’ian.”

It is not a question.

He knows it.

They know it.

Emperor Schrag stands, nodding to each of them before turning and moving away. Erinbol’s glance lingers but he, too, follows. The Imperial Royal Guards file out behind them, leaving an emotionally conflicted Barrett staring at Dahlia and Dahlia staring at the door as it hisses closed.





-TBC

[Syren]

"Today
I've decided to hardly exist,
Decided to just not resist
I'm just gonna let go of this."

-Wild Moccasins

Byss

Surface: Imperial Citadel

They walk back to the stateroom in silence.

Barrett trails Dahlia slightly, hesitant to comment on what just happened. She may have wanted the truth, carefully laying traps within the conversation, but the reality of it all could not have been easy to hear. Emperor Schrag is no fool and he took her bait to see just how far she was really willing to go. All the way, apparently. Now she knows. The people who raised her were killed on his orders and despite that very cool exterior it has to sting. He can feel the waves of anger and grief pouring off her and, for the first time in their relationship, is afraid of what that may mean.

Once they are safely ensconced within the stateroom she turns to him.

“Did you know?”

Barrett knew the question was coming, swallows hard, and does not break eye contact.

“Yes.”

Dahlia’s hands fly up as she storms by him.

“Of course you did. I should have guessed.”

“Not the details but I knew they were loose ends and action would be taken. When I heard, I figured that was part of the plan.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“You seemed like you didn’t care.”

“I seem like a lot of things,” she hisses. “Read the room, B.”

“We don’t exactly tell each other everything, you know. You are full of secrets.”

“Yeah, well, you are full of shit! This isn’t some political detail from your meetings with the Senators you think would bore me. This is about my life. Schrag had them murdered by someone who had been sniffing around my family for far too long. Sienna has some nerve petitioning for the guardianship. That prick is in for a rude awakening when I get back to D’ian.”

It is then he realizes she is holding a bottle of wine from dinner. She must have grabbed it on the way out.

Smooth.

And absolutely necessary in this exact moment.

Dahlia pours and absently hands him a glass before pouring her own.

“I hope you aren’t planning on making a scene. Your mission is clear and covert.”

“Not the point!” she screams.

“What do you want me to say, Dahlia? That I’m sorry? I am, that it hurt you but you make it seem like we are obligated to run every piece of intel or proposed action by you when that is just not how this works. These are sanctioned Imperial operations, some of which are beyond my level of clearance. You don’t have to like every move we make but we’re looking at a picture bigger than just the two of us.”

Goddamn right they are.

There was another bombshell in Emperor Schrag’s cavalcade of information – he’s after the Gellar enzyme. She’s heard this shit before, from Adubell’s twisted mouth. Aptly titled The Legacy Gene, her biological father, Alexander Winton, had also sought the enzyme in order to escape death. It was his ultimate plan all along while, at the same time, manipulating his wife, children, and friends into a conspiracy far larger than anyone could ever fathom.

Alexander may have lived longer than he should have but he wasn’t able to cheat death entirely. He was finally stopped by Dementat aboard the Centerpoint Station; vengeance exacted for losing his lover Karen to Melanie’s warped machinations. Machinations and misinformation fed exclusively by Alexander through the Jedi. He was a craftsman of the highest caliber, Adubell told her, using an ancient prophecy as a platform to build the narrative necessary to keep the players moving forward across the galactic board. Everything tied back to him – all that blood on his hands. Adubell wanted Dahlia to hate Rutherford and Celeste for keeping the truth from her but she cannot bring herself to despise them entirely. Why wouldn’t they withhold that information? It’s terrible and serves no real purpose other than to destroy any images she has of her real family. 

As inwardly devastated as she is, Dahlia understands Schrag’s position. They were loose ends, both formidable in their own ways, and served to keep the Empire and everyone else away from their children. How easily they slipped into their roles once left to their own devices – Dahlia’s social scheming, Dane’s need for control, Gemma’s self-righteous hope, and Riley’s plucky optimism. They really are The Four.

Tactically, Rutherford and Celeste needed to go just as Garron needed to be removed from the equation. Poor bastard. She wonders if he’s somewhere nearby being tortured out of his mind. She shutters, recalling her own torture at Adubell’s hands. It made her stronger but built walls around her ability to really trust anyone. Hence, her current sticky situation with Barrett and Quentin.

However, her grasp on the situation does not mean there won’t be consequences.

Sienna will suffer and so will Schrag.

The best part is that Barrett doesn’t even know what this means for him as someone being groomed as Schrag’s heir apparent. If the Emperor leverages the legacy gene for its true purpose, why would he need a successor? She bets her boyfriend isn’t going to be thrilled but that’s news for another time.

“You’re right. Big picture. Got it.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t do that, don’t glaze over this like you do when you’re done talking about something superficial. You’re upset, I get that. Now talk to me about it before you do something crazy.”

“Crazy? Oh, darling. You don’t know crazy.”

“Show me. I want to see you. All of you."

“I'm not sure you can hang.”

He moves closer to her.

“Try me.”

She squares her shoulders, glaring.

“Why do you even care, Barrett? I mean, really?”

“Because I’m fucking in love with you! You frustrate the shit out of me sometimes, I don’t get half the pop culture references you make, and I know I haven’t even begun to scratch your surface but there it is.”

She kisses him, quickly snatching his face in her hands and bringing their mouths together. She can’t help herself. All those hang-up’s melt away as they grope and claw at each other, glasses falling out of their hands to shatter on the floor. They stagger across the room until she falls on top of him. She has no idea what she’s doing, running purely on instinct and desire. The lights in the room dim slowly then flicker. Barrett grips the back of her neck with one hand, the other finding it’s way to the small of her back. She grinds into him, breasts swelling out of that plunging neckline, as she devours his mouth. His fingers slide up over the zipper of her dress, tugging it down. They swap places, allowing Barrett to peel Dahlia out of that dress. Her hand is on his belt as he strips out of his shirt. He pulls off his boots and socks and slides out of his pants. She is propped up on her elbows, wearing nothing but the tiniest pair of thin, black panties. As he crawls onto the bed, she tugs off his boxers as he slips a hand beneath her and pulls those panties up and off in one fluid motion. Those smooth legs, now relaxed, spread before him. A gentleman knows the lady is always served first and so he angles down, cheek nestled at the crook of her thigh, and-

[scene blurs with a moan before cutting away into darkness]

Distraught but purposeful, Dahlia and Barrett make love. Their combined dark energy, amplified by the planet, first pulse like a deep bass then surge outward in sonic waves. Byss becomes a conduit for their union, one that has been foretold and can be felt by all who are attuned.

*

Darth Erinbol falls to his knees, humbled but empowered. A smile comes to his face. It has come to pass.

*

On Dathomir, the Voss-Ra throw their heads back, a deep guttural chant escaping their mutilated mouths, as the fires before them burn tall with bright crimson laced with black flame.

*

The area formally known as Coruscant.

Masses of rock cease spinning. The ions storms quiet their endless raging. There is a gravitational pull toward what was once the remnants of a space station; Karen Winton’s first step toward vindication, Alexia Winton’s final resting place, and the site of a Sith artifact that was activated by Dahlia Winton’s surge of power on Hesperidium. It laid the foundation, slowly pulling together the bits and pieces of a planet destroyed by the Hapan Dark Queen so many years ago.

Their union binds it all, pulling the last of the ruins together and fusing them into something new.

The sphere takes its shape, finding an axis, and starts to spin.





-TBC

[Syren]

“I’m not who you think I am
Got closets full of bones
Not for show and tell
But just for show.”

-Jonathon Jircitano

Byss: Imperial Capital

The afterglow is hazy.

It was incredible. More incredible than either of them thought possible. Dahlia is sleeping, sheets twisted and snaked around her nude form. She is perfect, Barrett thinks, staring down at her. But there are parts of herself that she hides. He may not be as clever as she but he knows enough to know that. She came here to take on the Emperor and did not disappoint. However, that fabulous force was blunted by information he was privy to.

Does she hate him?

Hard to tell. The passion they shared could have straddled that line. He could have missed something, a cue of some kind, that indicates what really goes on inside that beautiful head. Barrett eases himself back down to the pillow, a smile tugging at him, drifting back to sleep. She's worth the wait.

The next morning, it’s all business. The business of getting the hell out of there.

He doesn’t blame her for that and gets it together quickly. The Emperor would not want them to meander now that they both have directives. She is sweet on the trip back to Chandaar, more affectionate than usual but quieter. He doesn’t press but she tells him anyway.

“I’ll get over it.”

*

Chandaar: Republic Capital

Dahlia kisses Barrett longingly before sending him off to work and heading back to campus to pack. He's hot stuff and she's spun, much to her surprise. There is a lot on her mind. Obviously. And she’ll be damned if she’s returning home without a little fashion and fanfare. She needs to take her own cruiser, a small comfort for the journey. Besides, it is stocked with a vintage wardrobe that simply cannot be left behind. The Holo is on in the background of the dorm suite, projecting a recap of all the things she missed. She’s nearly finished, tossing her bags on the sofa when her door chimes chirp.

Inevitable misogynistic tantrum in 3-2-1…

Quentin leans his head against the frame, “Welcome back, have fun?”

“You know I did.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says, moving inside and tapping the door closed behind him. “So. Glad.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. I’m furious. Yes, furious would be the word I would use to describe this feeling. You really know how to screw up a guy’s life, don’t you?”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Dahlia replies, tossing her hair casually over her shoulder. The outrage flooding through him is completely intoxicating. His eyes flash wide but he keeps his tone near a shrill, hostile whisper.

“Not so bad? Me, an actual certified Imperial agent, has been reassigned to some stuck up, spoiled little bitch with a goddess complex? I don’t think so. You aren’t even remotely qualified to call my shots.”

She smirks, “Mad I’m the boss of you? How original. Funny how you weren’t the least bit shy about putting me in my place when the roles were reversed and you were sent to my school on my planet as a poser spy and a shitty one at that. You aren’t the only one who can influence a situation in their favor.”

“This isn’t a game, Dahlia. This is my fucking life.”

“I know this may be difficult to understand for someone who virtually assaulted me the last time we saw each other but not everything is about you.”

“Oh no,” he seethes, shaking his head. “There were two people in that kiss. Only one of us is willing to admit it meant something.”

“Fuck you, Q.”

“I’m right here, let’s go.”

She exhales sharply, “I don’t have time to get into this with you-“

“Did you get into it with Barrett on Byss? Tell him you killed Muriel and lost your Sith shit all over your pad on Hesperidium? Did you show him all that darkness you were so willing to show me?”

“Cheap shot and you are just lashing out.”

Quentin’s face is a hideous mask of disgust.

“Didn’t think so. What exactly did you say to the Emperor in order to get your claws in me?”

“I didn’t have to say anything,” Dahlia fires back. “He knows all about your failures in keeping me contained so he handed you over. Just like that.”

“You’re so full of it.”

They both laugh when an image of Janessa Kain catches their attention. The report is cursory, adding that there is no trace of her and that the RSB have doubled their efforts. Dahlia’s mouth falls open, turning back to Quentin.

“Janessa is missing?”

“I guess,” Quentin says. “Apparently she didn’t show up for a dinner with that lawyer.”

“You guess? She was looking into Garron’s disappearance and let’s not forget this isn’t the first time there’s been an attempt.”

“The Empire didn’t take her out if that’s what you’re not-so-subtly implying.”

Dahlia grabs her bags and pauses by the door.

“Then that’s your first assignment. Figure it out before I get back. Toodles, bitch."

“What? Dahlia!”

She doesn’t break stride as she heads down the corridor and never looks back.






-TBC