Post by Ghostie on Oct 4, 2018 23:24:11 GMT -5
The Givin’s grey fingers brushed gently against the dark granite, barely moving as they lingered. His nearly flat, pointed digits feeling every divit and pock-mark, every bit of weathering from the past thousands of years that the stone door had been left undisturbed. The door, the whole area was illuminated brightly by the floodlights the dig team had brought this deep into the tomb. Despite his expressionless face, the alien studied the designs with every little bit of intent that he could muster. They were so close, now. Vul could feel the excitement well up into the pit of his stomach and overflow, twisting into bits of anxiety. No matter how hard he and his team tried, this door would not budge. The final barrier to Ulgo’s burial chamber. They were so close, and yet so far away.
“You gave the Jedi landing clearance… And coordinates.”
The voice came from behind Vul. It was deep and somewhat grating, not unlike that of a canine the Givin imagined, if canines could speak. Vul had known that Eramuth had been standing there for a long time, as he had been studying the stone barrier that laid between him and success. The Bothan’s words were not a question, but rather a statement, yet the Givin answered and treated it like a question. He could tell there was both disappointment and disapproval in Ermauth’s tones, and yet, Vul was not concerned. While Eramuth Hu’lya may have funded the digsite and shared a controlling interest in Corvus Archeological, Vul knew that without himself, they would have never even gotten this far.
“Yes.”
Was the Givin’s only response, terse and short. When Eramuth didn’t immediately respond, and Vul could almost feel the beady little canine eyes boring holes into his robed back, the Givin turned on the spot, and faced his benefactor. Slowly, methodically, Vul started down the few shallow steps from the large stone doorway, stopping on the last one before he shared the same floor and space and the Bothan. The Givin spoke as he went, his tones as calm and slow as his pace.
“If you have not noticed, we have hit a roadblock. And I assume this stone can only be moved through the Force. It is lucky that the Jedi showed up when they did.”
Vul, of course, had not told the Jedi about the barrier, and had decided to keep the group in the dark. He wanted to negotiate for their access to the tomb from a position of power. After all, he was not their Order’s largest fan at the moment. His homeworld, Yag’Dhul, had a fighting chance at freedom and independence with the Matrix of Certainty, until a handful of Jedi had come in with her lightsabers waving, leading the charge with the rest of the Republic against the revolutionaries. Initially, Vul was content to leave the Order completely out of the digsite. But they had asked diplomatically enough, and Master Orren Fyek had the foresight to not send any of the Jedi that had participated in the subjugation of his homeworld.
“Out of all the researchers that Corvus keeps on tab, I chose you specifically Yarst, because I knew you would keep the Jedi out.”
Eramuth wasn’t yelling, but he was getting close. Beyond being a researcher and archeologist, Vul could read people well enough to know when they were about to come to a head. And the Bothan’s fur rippling every so slightly, like brown waves on a stormy surface, showed the being’s annoyance and discontent. Eramuth had his own reasons for disliking the Jedi. He had never shared what they were, exactly, but Vul never dug at the being. The Givin stayed on the step just above Hu’lya, and put his fists on his hips, his red robes splaying out behind him as he did so.
“After what they did on Yag’Dhul - ”
Eramuth continued, but Vul cut the man off.
“As regrettable as Yag’Dhul’s current state is at the moment, I have no doubt that the war between the Republic and Sith will start once again, at some point. And then the Givin will be free to make their own decisions. For now…”
The Givin sighed, and nodded a bit.
“... I dislike working with the Jedi as well. Venomously dislike it. But I have also never walked away from a dig empty handed - ”
It was Eramuth’s turn to interrupt him, this time.
“Well you have now! Send them away. I don’t want them here!”
“No.”
The Bothan may have bankrolled the entire operation, but Vul was unperturbed. Money didn’t matter. Not when they were this close. If Eramuth pulled out now, another backer from Corvus would simply fill the spot. A backer who didn’t care whether or not Jedi were used to help explore deeper into the tomb or not. And the Givin was not going to back down simply on principle as well. He had a reputation to uphold. He was well respected in his field. If that would not be honored by the Bothan then their working partnership was at an end.
And it seemed that Eramuth thought that it was time to dissolve their partnership, as well. Not another word was said between the two. Instead, the Bothan turned slightly, and pulled a device from his own dark robes. Vul didn’t recongize it at first. Not until it was leveled, and then pointed in his direction, directly at his chest. A handheld sonic blaster. If the Givin’s face could have show surprise, his eyes would have been the size of saucers, and his mouth agape. As it was, the grey, skeletal features remained stoic and frozen.
“No, wait - !”
But it was too late. As the words left Vul’s mouth, Eramuth pulled the trigger on the sonic blaster twice. At such a close range, the shots were not seen, but the reverberations of pure sound energy were heard echoing down the long, tall stone halls of the tomb. The Givin was thrown backwards, landing on the shallow steps behind him with his face to the ceiling. His hands clutched at the front of the robes where he had been shot, while blood poured from nearly every orifice in his face. Sonics did not leave any external damage, but internal damage was another thing entirely. Vul wanted to writhe in pain, but has he tried to move, the sharp pains stabbing through his entire torso froze him in place. Though mortally wounded, the Givin could still see Eramuth speak into a comlink, and hear the Bothan’s words.
“ - have to move fast. The Jedi are on their way. I want to use the device on their shuttle, send a message. And let’s clear out anyone from the digsite that isn’t with us.”
Eramuth looked around to see that Vul was still moving. The Bothan grinned a small, wicked smile at the dying Givin, and the last thing Vul ever saw was Eramuth raise his sonic weapon for one last shot, putting the alien out of his misery.
One Standard Hour Earlier
Gaeriel hated these Ministry-class shuttles. They handled like a tug trying to tow something on one engine, they weren’t all that much to look at, and they were old. Ancient, even, the Jedi Knight would say. Unfortunately, they were still functional. Modified with a hyperdrive, and they were efficient for moving people on short jumps across the Galaxy. The blonde-haired woman mused that they could have least put in better seating for longer voyages, but she knew the Jedi Order better than that. Creature comforts were something that the Order as a whole were not concerned with. Nonetheless, she wished that their small group could have taken one of those new Sabre-Class Transports from the Temple Hangars. They had it all; sleek style, a fast engine, and most of all leather seats with decent padding.
In fact, Gaeriel had been spinning up the engines on one of the Sabre-Class Transports that was available, before Master Shatani had informed her that they simply had too many Jedi joining their little band to fit in the passenger hold. So the Ministry-class shuttle it was. It had been with a heavy heart that she had left the sleek ship behind, but it simply wasn’t going to work for them. Gaeriel couldn’t understand why so many Jedi were interested in going to see an old tomb on Alderaan. So it was the tomb of the first Jedi Watchman of Alderaan. So it was a tomb that had been lost for three thousand years. So what? As a Jedi Shadow, Gaeriel had seen tombs of plenty of important people. She had held the artifacts of plenty of important people. It was one of the reasons that Master Fyek had tapped her for the mission.
Still, she had a feeling that she would not get much of a chance to see the sights once they touched down. Gaeriel could see the next few days playing out in her mind as she absentmindedly watched the white-blue streaks of hyperspace past the viewports in the cockpit, hunched over the control board and yoke. She saw herself running across a dark and dusty old tomb, pulling one of the members of their little team of Jedi away from an unsuspected trap, telling them to not touch that carving, or in general rounding them up as needed. The more these next few days played out in Gaeriel’s mind, the more a small frown spread across her face.
Snapping her out of her trance, the Ministry-class shuttle pulled itself smoothly from hyperspace, the swirling streaks pulled back as the blue-green gem that was Alderaan hung in the transpirasteel viewport, roughly the size of Gaeriel’s fist. She had to admit, for being modified with an aftermarket hyperdrive, the Ministry-class shuttle had a smooth transition from hyperspace to realspace. She was rather impressed. Wasting no time, Gaeriel took the controls and flipped a few switches on the board near her. The sublight engines came to life, and Alderaan started to steadily, slowly grow in front of her. Still flying, she turned and shouted over her shoulder, her voice carrying back into the passenger cabin.
“Might wanna wake up back there, folks! We’re gunna be planet-side soon!”
As they approached closer to Alderaan, Gaeriel opened a comm channel, dialing in the frequency that had been given to her, for the dig-site. Once Gaeriel had a response which included landing cooridnates and an approach vector from a seemingly irate Sullustan, Gaeriel didn't hesitate to shut the comm off with a hard fist. Something felt wrong. The archeological team had opened up to the Jedi almost too easily, after shutting them out for so long. The more Gaeriel dwelt on the situation, the more a cold prickle of danger and anxiety traveled up the back of her neck, and made her whole body shiver in her rather warm flightsuit. Something was wrong. Something was just not fitting into place.
It all had a malicious taint that Gaeriel could only attribute to the Dark side.
“I want everyone seated and in their crash harnesses AH-ES-AH-PEE!”
“You gave the Jedi landing clearance… And coordinates.”
The voice came from behind Vul. It was deep and somewhat grating, not unlike that of a canine the Givin imagined, if canines could speak. Vul had known that Eramuth had been standing there for a long time, as he had been studying the stone barrier that laid between him and success. The Bothan’s words were not a question, but rather a statement, yet the Givin answered and treated it like a question. He could tell there was both disappointment and disapproval in Ermauth’s tones, and yet, Vul was not concerned. While Eramuth Hu’lya may have funded the digsite and shared a controlling interest in Corvus Archeological, Vul knew that without himself, they would have never even gotten this far.
“Yes.”
Was the Givin’s only response, terse and short. When Eramuth didn’t immediately respond, and Vul could almost feel the beady little canine eyes boring holes into his robed back, the Givin turned on the spot, and faced his benefactor. Slowly, methodically, Vul started down the few shallow steps from the large stone doorway, stopping on the last one before he shared the same floor and space and the Bothan. The Givin spoke as he went, his tones as calm and slow as his pace.
“If you have not noticed, we have hit a roadblock. And I assume this stone can only be moved through the Force. It is lucky that the Jedi showed up when they did.”
Vul, of course, had not told the Jedi about the barrier, and had decided to keep the group in the dark. He wanted to negotiate for their access to the tomb from a position of power. After all, he was not their Order’s largest fan at the moment. His homeworld, Yag’Dhul, had a fighting chance at freedom and independence with the Matrix of Certainty, until a handful of Jedi had come in with her lightsabers waving, leading the charge with the rest of the Republic against the revolutionaries. Initially, Vul was content to leave the Order completely out of the digsite. But they had asked diplomatically enough, and Master Orren Fyek had the foresight to not send any of the Jedi that had participated in the subjugation of his homeworld.
“Out of all the researchers that Corvus keeps on tab, I chose you specifically Yarst, because I knew you would keep the Jedi out.”
Eramuth wasn’t yelling, but he was getting close. Beyond being a researcher and archeologist, Vul could read people well enough to know when they were about to come to a head. And the Bothan’s fur rippling every so slightly, like brown waves on a stormy surface, showed the being’s annoyance and discontent. Eramuth had his own reasons for disliking the Jedi. He had never shared what they were, exactly, but Vul never dug at the being. The Givin stayed on the step just above Hu’lya, and put his fists on his hips, his red robes splaying out behind him as he did so.
“After what they did on Yag’Dhul - ”
Eramuth continued, but Vul cut the man off.
“As regrettable as Yag’Dhul’s current state is at the moment, I have no doubt that the war between the Republic and Sith will start once again, at some point. And then the Givin will be free to make their own decisions. For now…”
The Givin sighed, and nodded a bit.
“... I dislike working with the Jedi as well. Venomously dislike it. But I have also never walked away from a dig empty handed - ”
It was Eramuth’s turn to interrupt him, this time.
“Well you have now! Send them away. I don’t want them here!”
“No.”
The Bothan may have bankrolled the entire operation, but Vul was unperturbed. Money didn’t matter. Not when they were this close. If Eramuth pulled out now, another backer from Corvus would simply fill the spot. A backer who didn’t care whether or not Jedi were used to help explore deeper into the tomb or not. And the Givin was not going to back down simply on principle as well. He had a reputation to uphold. He was well respected in his field. If that would not be honored by the Bothan then their working partnership was at an end.
And it seemed that Eramuth thought that it was time to dissolve their partnership, as well. Not another word was said between the two. Instead, the Bothan turned slightly, and pulled a device from his own dark robes. Vul didn’t recongize it at first. Not until it was leveled, and then pointed in his direction, directly at his chest. A handheld sonic blaster. If the Givin’s face could have show surprise, his eyes would have been the size of saucers, and his mouth agape. As it was, the grey, skeletal features remained stoic and frozen.
“No, wait - !”
But it was too late. As the words left Vul’s mouth, Eramuth pulled the trigger on the sonic blaster twice. At such a close range, the shots were not seen, but the reverberations of pure sound energy were heard echoing down the long, tall stone halls of the tomb. The Givin was thrown backwards, landing on the shallow steps behind him with his face to the ceiling. His hands clutched at the front of the robes where he had been shot, while blood poured from nearly every orifice in his face. Sonics did not leave any external damage, but internal damage was another thing entirely. Vul wanted to writhe in pain, but has he tried to move, the sharp pains stabbing through his entire torso froze him in place. Though mortally wounded, the Givin could still see Eramuth speak into a comlink, and hear the Bothan’s words.
“ - have to move fast. The Jedi are on their way. I want to use the device on their shuttle, send a message. And let’s clear out anyone from the digsite that isn’t with us.”
Eramuth looked around to see that Vul was still moving. The Bothan grinned a small, wicked smile at the dying Givin, and the last thing Vul ever saw was Eramuth raise his sonic weapon for one last shot, putting the alien out of his misery.
One Standard Hour Earlier
Gaeriel hated these Ministry-class shuttles. They handled like a tug trying to tow something on one engine, they weren’t all that much to look at, and they were old. Ancient, even, the Jedi Knight would say. Unfortunately, they were still functional. Modified with a hyperdrive, and they were efficient for moving people on short jumps across the Galaxy. The blonde-haired woman mused that they could have least put in better seating for longer voyages, but she knew the Jedi Order better than that. Creature comforts were something that the Order as a whole were not concerned with. Nonetheless, she wished that their small group could have taken one of those new Sabre-Class Transports from the Temple Hangars. They had it all; sleek style, a fast engine, and most of all leather seats with decent padding.
In fact, Gaeriel had been spinning up the engines on one of the Sabre-Class Transports that was available, before Master Shatani had informed her that they simply had too many Jedi joining their little band to fit in the passenger hold. So the Ministry-class shuttle it was. It had been with a heavy heart that she had left the sleek ship behind, but it simply wasn’t going to work for them. Gaeriel couldn’t understand why so many Jedi were interested in going to see an old tomb on Alderaan. So it was the tomb of the first Jedi Watchman of Alderaan. So it was a tomb that had been lost for three thousand years. So what? As a Jedi Shadow, Gaeriel had seen tombs of plenty of important people. She had held the artifacts of plenty of important people. It was one of the reasons that Master Fyek had tapped her for the mission.
Still, she had a feeling that she would not get much of a chance to see the sights once they touched down. Gaeriel could see the next few days playing out in her mind as she absentmindedly watched the white-blue streaks of hyperspace past the viewports in the cockpit, hunched over the control board and yoke. She saw herself running across a dark and dusty old tomb, pulling one of the members of their little team of Jedi away from an unsuspected trap, telling them to not touch that carving, or in general rounding them up as needed. The more these next few days played out in Gaeriel’s mind, the more a small frown spread across her face.
Snapping her out of her trance, the Ministry-class shuttle pulled itself smoothly from hyperspace, the swirling streaks pulled back as the blue-green gem that was Alderaan hung in the transpirasteel viewport, roughly the size of Gaeriel’s fist. She had to admit, for being modified with an aftermarket hyperdrive, the Ministry-class shuttle had a smooth transition from hyperspace to realspace. She was rather impressed. Wasting no time, Gaeriel took the controls and flipped a few switches on the board near her. The sublight engines came to life, and Alderaan started to steadily, slowly grow in front of her. Still flying, she turned and shouted over her shoulder, her voice carrying back into the passenger cabin.
“Might wanna wake up back there, folks! We’re gunna be planet-side soon!”
As they approached closer to Alderaan, Gaeriel opened a comm channel, dialing in the frequency that had been given to her, for the dig-site. Once Gaeriel had a response which included landing cooridnates and an approach vector from a seemingly irate Sullustan, Gaeriel didn't hesitate to shut the comm off with a hard fist. Something felt wrong. The archeological team had opened up to the Jedi almost too easily, after shutting them out for so long. The more Gaeriel dwelt on the situation, the more a cold prickle of danger and anxiety traveled up the back of her neck, and made her whole body shiver in her rather warm flightsuit. Something was wrong. Something was just not fitting into place.
It all had a malicious taint that Gaeriel could only attribute to the Dark side.
“I want everyone seated and in their crash harnesses AH-ES-AH-PEE!”