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  1. BaronNoir Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 6, 2001
    star 1
    So, here is my latest attempt at SW fiction. This is basically the Count of Monte Cristo in space ! (Zero refers to the launch by the Sith Empire of the invasion of the Republic-this occurs in the final months before the Great Galactic War)
    Last edited by BaronNoir, Sep 8, 2012
  2. BaronNoir Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 6, 2001
    star 1
    «According to the press kit, he ended up given his life to repel a Sith fleet.»

    «The fleet he had brought in the first place in Republican space.»

    «Look, who care ? Jedi loves those kind of sappy stories about redemption. This guy, Revan, the Jedi on Tralus that used Force powers to avoid paying alimonies.-»

    «You had prepared a piece «boss»? On the Jedis ?» said ironically the Human.

    In her desperate quest for recognition, the lead was often trying to push op-ed pieces, imitating the style of more reputable and known reporters. The results were usually somewhat comical, as she had a marked tendency to copy other sources, while not being very good at selecting the right ones. A good example was her legendary editorial about the latest tensions between Coruscant and Alsakans, made with using as the key reference a documentary made by the HHS (Holonet Historical Channel). The editorial was thus heavy on «Pius Dea secret routes», «Celestial cults», «Sith sects kidnapping girls from the Core to use them as sexual slaves», the usual fare of the HHS-how this was exactly related to trade disputes was not very clear in the HHS documentary, and even less the editorial. This masterpiece had thankfully fallen in the cracks somewhere between the lead datapad and the network headquarters. The would-be historian had kept preciously this document, just in case the «boss» managed by some miracle (or by bedding a VP) to achieve some carrier progression-as a last Pazzak card.

    «In the press kit, they mention that one Jedi master is boarding the ship tonight…»

    «And you hope you will be able to interview him? Well, at least, the Jedis won’t send lawyers for defamation. They will just behead us.»

    With such attitude, the mood of the half-dozen of Humans was not exactly unified when they finally left the shuttle, only to be ushered to one small booth next to the principal hangar, where the main event was being held. The design and the commission of Valor cruisers had been rather controversial, military pundits often savaging the concept, with catchphrases such as the ship being more appropriate for showing the flag than being a flagship. It was true to a certain point: the Gav Daragon had very lavish facilities for shuttles and transports, but the crew did not look much…martial.

    The would-be grand reporter had a couple of years ago another of her ideas. She had suggested that she and her crew should enlist in the Planetary Security Forces, to show the public the work of the military-cue to a week of walking in circles in the mud, and five people asking one more time to be transferred somewhere else, even on the weather channels. The point was, even if the local PSF had an abyssal reputation, at least those soldiers looked credible. Which was hardly the case of the crew of the Gav Daragon. The…colorful…appearance of the Republic dress uniform did not help.

    The whole thing looked more like a social happening than a military meeting, much of the sectorial and planetary elite attending. There was one lone female Human, in her late twenties, standing alone near a flight of stairs, relatively close to the booth. A silver-headed protocol droid was standing at attention next to her. Compared to many of female guests, her jewelry was rather low key (or less gaudy), and she would not have attracted much attention, if not for the whispers that the news teams could pick up with their equipment-that Human was the source of a curious but usual mix of scorn and awe.

    «…a pirate queen from the Outer Rim, who got her pardon in exchange of star charts»

    «…she is just the public display for a cartel operating on the Hydian»

    «….some daddy’s girl, whose father is a local tyrant.»

    The so-called boss, her curiosity excited, browsed one more time through the list of guests, without finding the name of this female. She did found her answer indirectly, however, when she saw at the end of the list the discreet logo of a certain shipping concern. The Human was most likely Lady Synthara, the darling of many medias from the Core. The future host of the evening bulletin from Coruscant News Network (at least according to her) immediately started to daydream about securing an exclusive interview with her-a piece that would certainly be good for her reputation. As Lady Synthara (obviously a fake name) was an interesting combination between absolutely indecent wealth and no personal history. No one knew where she came from. Everyone knew how rich she was. Obviously, the latter was much important than the former.

    Lady Synthara was much more discreet with her wealth than most, knowing very well that such discretion attracted even more attention. A key example were her earrings, two quite elegant little pieces that featured some sort of humanoid figure, not much bigger than a small Human inch-it did not looked impressive compared to the extensive jewellery worn by most. But considered how good looking and detailed was the figure, those earrings would have been considered as very fine jewellery even if they had been melted with a mere semi-precious metal. But those earrings were not melted. They had been cut. From a single Corusca gem each (as there was slow new days everywhere, reporters made Human interests pieces about those earrings-and the dozen of similar pairs of slightly different colors owned by Lady Synthara-virtually each time she arrived on a Core planet). As it was extremely difficult to cut Corusca gems into simple facetted jewels thanks to the infamous shatterpoints, the price of those earrings must have been mesmerizing-a pair would have been probably enough to build a modern frigate.

    Lady Synthara was not a mere socialite, however, and hardly the kind of female to put all her wealth in jewels, even tasteful-what really mattered was her not-so material fortune. If the exact origins of Lady Synthara wealth was nebulous, how she increased it was not.

    Lady Synthara, thanks a variety of backroom deals and hostile corporate takeovers, was the owner of a solid third of the current docking facilities around Brentaal, and controlled over half of the ones in construction. How she had managed this financial tour de force was quite hard to figure out, but what was sure was that those docks brought in mountains of credits-the declared income of Lady Synthara for her activities in the Brentaal system accounted for a good tenth of the planetary budget. All of this was still a relatively small part of her revenues.

    With such an income, Lady Synthara could afford to be quite generous, which was an excellent way to neutralized eventual probes. In addition to charities and philanthropy, she had for instance given to the Republic Navy exclusive use of one top-of-the-line orbital facility, explaining this move by the fact she was a mere Republican patriot-considering the kind of facilities that most planetary governments were grudgingly leasing to the Navy, the naval brass was not exactly questioning her, especially considering she was generously paying for the evening.

    Saying that Lady Synthara was respected for this would have been exaggerate. Loathed, envied, scorned, maybe. Even from rather surprising sources. As the female reporter was still daydreaming about how she would introduce her inclusive interview with the Lady and the surprising revelations she would get thanks to her incredible insight, the tech guy coughed to bring her back to reality.

    «The Jedis have arrived. The raven-haired Human female is the Padawan, I think» said the sound tech, pointing out at the feed of the secondary cam they had installed in the hallway leading to the reception.

    Someone chuckled that the Jedi trainees had apparently dropped the robe requirement, considering the surprisingly low cut outfit of the Jedi. The history major launched himself in an explanation about how the Order had slightly militarized itself since the Mandalorian conflict-this explaining the more metallic armor used by some members of the Jedi nowadays, only to be cut quite roughly by her boss.

    «According to the list, the master is Kao Cen Darach ? I’m pronouncing that right ?»

    People groaned at the thought of their beloved lead trying to secure an interview with the master considering that it would be them (and not the Jedi) that would have to deal with her mood for days after he courtly refused the offer.

    «Considering that the guy is able to behead you or choke you to death with his mind…»

    «Where is he from ?» continued the female reporter, ignoring the intervention.

    «Coruscant. To be sent here, I would say that he is not much loved in the Temple»

    «I mean, is this a Zabrak or an Iridonian ? Ah, what the hell, it’s the same thing»

    «Remember how much the station was sued when someone tongue slipped and called the Neimodian ambassador a Duros ? They certainly bought the it’s almost the same thing excuse. This said, you might want to say your line fast, he is about to pass in front of us.

    «But do I say he is a Zabrak or an Iridonian ?»

    «Just go around the issue, if this worry you that much.»

    Sighing, everyone got ready for the little sentence of the lead, prepping cameras and mikes. Thanks to the position of the booth, the Jedis woud have to pass in front of it to reach the reception floor. But he was walking at a brisk pace, making the interception planned quite difficult. As the tech crew was decently skilled, the female went live just in time, as the Zabrak (or Iridonian) zipped past her. She was fumbling with her line, however. The reporter finally stammered out the name….with adding the word.

    «and here is Master Dao Ken Carach, an alien Jedi Master-»

    It took a few seconds for the crew to absorb the shock and a few more for the guy in charge of the feed to invent some kind of technical incident that would justify cutting it brutally. Too late, that sentence with the a-word went live. And that was the kind of stuff that would end up tomorrow on streaming sites. The Jedi master, puzzled by the curses and imprecations launched to the red-cheeked female in front of him, stopped for a second, even asking is she was all right and needed some help. Without any answer short of further stammering, he left after a short nod.

    The female reporter, seeing the rather hostile looks of her crew inside the booth, almost considered enlisting at once to not face them. Not to mention the direction.

    «We are deader than teenage girls in bikinis making out with each other on a planet affected by a Rakghoul outbreak» finally said the other female of the team, the accountant/administrator. She was better at her real job than at humor, to say the least.
  3. BaronNoir Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Sep 6, 2001
    star 1
    Sigh, next update soon.
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