Great Power Games

[Rugs]

Soldon blurred below the speeder’s tinted window. Alder had to admit, Prazhi was doing well for itself these days. The planet’s leadership had embraced its role as an arbitration ground for Galactic issues, and their work was paying off. Even in the few short years since he’d last visited, Soldon had grown tremendously, and cranes and scaffolding dotting the city’s skyline only spoke of more growth to come.

The Galactic Arena squatted in the distance, neon banners pulsating with vivid colors as the front of a building blocked it from view. The news spoke of record crowds at the place. Alder shook his head, stifling a laugh. At least this crisis is stuffing some pockets, he thought, ruefully. Now he just had to ensure there’d still be a reason to spend that newfound wealth.

“We’re setting down at the Hall, sir.”

Alder nodded, fingers steepled before him.

The Galactic Hall, as it was called, was an elegant monolith of steel and stone, broken up in the front by wide, curving windows that let sunlight pour in. A broad, circular courtyard sat beyond its entryway, lined with trees imported from Coruscant and Dromund Kaas on the other. A tall fountain, with water rising and falling along a series of ever-widening platforms, stood in the middle.

Alder inhaled deeply. The security lines were bursting at the seams, with press and onlookers swarming like Kubindi ants behind them. He felt a rush of adrenaline. Not from the crowds — no, he’d dealt with plenty in his career. But the talks at hand could well determine whether one crisis spiraled into another.

Moreover, today he’d meet the Dark Empress, Darth Renata. As an equal. And for all his distaste of the Empire, over the coming days or more, he’d have to navigate the Republic to some sort of agreement to, at the very least, avoid another shooting war with the Empire.

Maybe more than that, if the Archeri Chorus was as much a threat as it seemed.

The speeder decelerated suddenly as it reached the ground. It pulled in to the front of the courtyard, where a mixture of Senate Guard and Prazhi security personnel fanned out to line the way in.

“Are you ready, sir?”

Alder raised his hands. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Have the Jedi arrived?”

“Yes, sir. Their speeder was right behind ours.”

“Good,” Alder said. It was imperative, to him, that they arrive together. The Republic and Jedi Order had to be unified in facing this threat, and the Galaxy needed to see that.

“Well then, let’s get to it.”

A Senate Guard opened the door. Alder stepped out. He was wearing some of the finest Alderaanian fashion — a dark suit with a long coat of grey and the blue of the Supreme Chancellor’s office, with a dark vest and deep blue tie to match. His two-sided cufflinks bore the winged seal of the Galactic Republic on one side, and the fanned spear of the Supreme Chancellor’s office on the other.

The roar of supporters, the jeering of protestors — all faded to a dull blur as Alder turned to the trio of Jedi Councilmen arriving with him and smiled. “Shall we?” he asked and began the walk into the Galactic Hall.

---

The meeting room was deep within the Hall, behind hidden fortifications that protected it from all but the most severe threats. It was a broad room, circular, like the courtyard outside and with ringed meeting table in its center.

Aurelius sneered silently at a Republic security guard who thought he couldn’t see him giving the stinkeye. Oh damn, boyo, you got me, he thought. Put me right in my damn place.

He wore fine robes, of black with accents of Ascension’s gold that blended between more traditional Sith robes and a military uniform. His black and blue hair was neatly organized. Danica would kill him if he looked messy on the Galactic stage.

He’d arrived some time ago, to make sure everything was up to the Empress’ standards. Prazhi had done well in preparing for the arrival, and security was as tight as any he’d seen. Still, the Empire performed its own checks. And if the frowning man was any indication, the Republic was doing the same.

“We’ve finalized our checks.” An officer, in a midnight black uniform that was so finely pressed it seemed brand new, approached. He bowed his head slightly to the Dark Lord.

“Excellent,” Aurelius said. A radio on the shoulder of a Republic security guard whined and they all withdrew, hurried. Aurelius could sense a sudden shifting in the Force outside — a rush of anticipation and three powerful presences arriving.

“They’re here,” he said, smiling crookedly. In truth, he questioned the importance of these talks. The strong would survive in times of crisis. The weak would not. It was a simple truth, beaten into him on Metellos’ streets, but he’d not yet seen anything to dissuade him from it.

“Come then,” he said, motioning for his team with withdraw with him. They retreated to a side room, where Aurelius pinged a comm on his wrist.

“Our preparations are complete, my Lady,” he said, adding just the right amount of reverence for the Empress. We’re clear to go.”

Hopefully, the day’s talks wouldn’t take too long. He had a meeting with a “Hertz” from the Exchange in the evening to get to.

---

Alder and his team of Jedi, diplomats and advisors made it to the meeting room shortly after arriving. It was empty now, save some security spread along the walls. As everyone spread out, Alder went to the seat that was obviously his — the one at the center of the Republic’s side of the table.

There he stood. When the Empress arrived, she’d find him standing. Not sitting, and certainly not kneeling.

Standing, as an equal.

And then the game, with its incredble stakes, would begin.

[Meira]

The Caldera, sleek and resplendent, maintained its orbital position around the neutral world of Prazhi. While the Imperial Embassy was fit to burst with the additional diplomatic personnel the this Summit called for, Her Imperial Radiance was quite comfortable in her luxurious suite of rooms her yacht provided. For the duration of the Summit, she would house on the yacht, taking a shuttle down to the planet when necessary. The opening meeting between herself and the Republic's Supreme Chancellor was, of course, one of those necessary times. The shuttles had been moving back and forth between the ship and the planet for hours, ferrying over the important people and their staff. Renata's own shuttle was the last to make the trip and had hovered in a holding pattern until Darth Aurelius was able to give the all clear command to their security personnel. When the call came through, Renata's thin lips twitched in the hint of a smile. She was pleased to know that her most reluctant Pillar was taking his role seriously.

The Republic shuttles arrived before the Imperial ones, a contrast to how the events unfolded those years before when the Peace of Prazhi was ratified. Fitting, she supposed, that the balance would play out now. Her shuttle set down as the others had, but unlike her more democratic counterparts, Renata's arrival came with a bit more ceremony.

Attendants lined the walkway for several paces from where the shuttle doors opened to reveal Empress Renata. She stepped forth, the sunlight catching and refracting brilliantly in the Kaasian Diamonds embroidered into her dark red gown. The gown itself was simple in its lines. No rumpling or gathering of the fabric. The neckline cut straight across, just below her collar bones and exposed both shoulders. Long sleeves ended in pointed cuffs at her wrists. The diamonds shimmered, scattered across the gown like so many stars in the night sky, becoming more concentrated along the short train until they were a nearly solid mass at the hem. Another diamond, several carats larger than the ones sewn into her gown, hung from her neck on a braided gold chain and rested just below the hollow of her throat. Her hair, gathered and braided, draped over her left shoulder. Threaded through the fiery strands, a gold circlet adorned her brow, an understated mark of her Imperial rule.

She moved forward along the path and the crowds gathered had drastically different reactions. To her right, where most of the onlookers that had gathered were citizens of the Empire, the people lowered themselves to their knees, heads bowed in reverence toward their Radiant Empress. To the left, the people either gawked or jeered. Unperturbed by the insolence of those who were not her subjects, Renata continued forward until a movement caught her eye to her right. A father struggled to control the wriggling mass that was his daughter. Renata stopped, turning herself slightly to see the man and the girl more clearly. The father, startled, lowered his head further. The daughter, too young to know better, squealed with delight and finally managed to break free from her father. She scampered toward the Empress. Guards quickly moved to stop the girl, but a motion of Renata's hand stilled them and the girl ran freely toward her. The deep green stem of a white rose was crushed in the girl's fist. When she arrived at Renata's side, she held the flower up and hopped excitedly in place. Renata raised her electric blue eyes back up toward the girl's father who had been brought to his feet and was now ushered forward by two guards. He had the sense to blush profusely.

"Empess! Empess!" The girl tugged at Renata's dress. When the Empess looked back down, the girl was straining to hold the flower up to her.

"My apologies, Your Radiance." her father stammered.

"Nonsense." Renata replied, her voice cool and light as she lowered herself down to the girl's level. Accepting the flower, Renata smiled and slipped the stem into her hair so that the white rose nestled just above her left ear. "How do I look?" she asked the girl in a stage whisper. The child beamed at her, and then threw her arms wide and fell onto the Empress to embrace her. Renata, caught off guard, let out a laugh which soon echoed through the onlookers. When the girl released her, Renata gave her a kiss on her forehead and sent her running back toward her father. The man scooped her up, bowing his head as best he could toward the Empress, his thanks fading into the background as he was pushed back by the guards and Renata rose, turned, and continued her procession toward the Galactic Hall.

Her entrance into the Meeting Room was much less eventful, though not informal. The doors opened, attendants streamed in first, and she followed behind. Two attendants moved toward the high backed chair at the center of the Imperial side of the table and pulled it out for her. Renata's eyes did not connect with any others until she arrived at her chair and sat. At that time, they lifted to connect with Alder's and she smiled.

"Supreme Chancellor, please do sit."

[CaptainBonkers]

Havlen set down the holpad he had been perusing. He had been reviewing the updated security plan for the summit for any holes or weaknesses. There were plenty but they all stemmed from the same source; having to share space with Republic security personnel with their own protocols and demands. Unfortunately, there was little that could be done to remove them. Havlen's people would just have to work around the obstacles that playing nice with the Republic caused. Fortunately, dealing with inconveniences caused by the Republic was something the Ministry of Security was very experienced at. Of course, usually it was the SIS causing the problems for them, not Republic security arrangements. However, Havlen was fairly certain that as soon as the summit had a chance to properly start, there'd be plenty of incidents involving SIS agents trying to breach Imperial security that he would have to deal with. Or rather people hired by the SIS; Havlen was fairly certain that the Republic's preeminent intelligence agency had the good sense of using NOCs rather than sending any of their official agents on missions on Prazhi during the summit. 

Knowing that this summit was going to be a hotbed of espionage, Havlen would have much preferred to be coordinating the Imperial security plans and personnel instead of sitting at the negotiation table, preening at the Republic. But Renata had requested his presence at the negotiation table and Havlen hadn't been able to politely refuse. Where was a popular uprising when one was needed? 

However, just because he was about to take part in the summit, Havlen wasn't about to let the yellow press of the Galaxy have his face plastered on their pages. He waited for there to be a respectable distance between Renata and the transport before heading down the gauntlet himself. Before stepping out, though he activated a pair of small droids from the case he was carrying. They both took to the air and set to hovering on Havlen's either flank. His position required a certain amount of anonymity, or at least it was a useful quality to have, and he had come prepared to guard it from the worst attention. Once steady both of tiny droids projected a distorting hologram around Havlen, making it impossible to get a recognizable picture or footage of him. With his visage blocked, he strode through the gauntlet, paying very little heed to the rabble that had gathered to gawk at the arriving dignitaries or the muckrakers among them.

Once inside, he shut down the droids and deposited them back into the suitcase and proceeded to follow Renata into the Meeting Room. He let her take a seat before looking for his own and settling down there. While waiting for others to take their seats and formally begin the summit, Havlen took a moment to focus his mind and summon the annoying jingle he had selected few days earlier into the forefront of his mind. The Republic had opted to bring several Jedi into the summit and while it was unlikely that some of them might try to intrude on his mind, it was better to take precautions. With a powerful earworm covering his thoughts a potential intruder would have to push deeper if they wished to have a look of his surface thoughts. With that set, Havlen was ready to go.

[Blue]

Moho had never been to Prazhi before. The planet had not been too much of a focus during the war, and with so many others crying out for help the old Master had not exactly had the time to travel for any reason other than to assist in it. As the speeder carrying the Jedi contingent (a necessarily bulky craft to allow for Moho's stature) shot across the cityscape of Soldon, the newly appoint Grand Master took a moment to appreciate that, even after four hundred and fifty years of life, he was still capable of experiencing something new and learning something more. The galaxy was a large place, after all, and the subjects it contained without calculable number. As the sights blurred together as they made their approach to the meeting, the Prellian settled into his seat and breathed deep, emptying his mind to allow the Force the flow through him easily. Though some might have attempted this before now, Moho was well versed enough to know that such an uncertain occurrence such as these talks were difficult to predict. Leaving things to the last moment made it far easier to gain accurate Visions... some of the time, anyway. As the old Jedi slipped into his trance, it soon became clear that this was not one of those times. The visions that flickered into his mind varied greatly in content; in one instance the Empress was assassinated via explosives on the journey towards the Galactic Hall, in another the Supreme Chancellor was shot as he made his way into the Hall itself. In others the talks broke down and war began anew, or else a lasting peace was wrought from the deft diplomacy of both sides. That last one had been faint, near translucent, like a wisp of mist vanishing into the morning. With a sigh, Moho came back to himself, casting a smile tinted with an almost imperceptible hint of sadness to his fellow Jedi. "Over three hundred and fifty years of experiencing visions, both voluntarily and otherwise, and there are still events that remain obscured to me," the Prellian uttered to the speeder's interior at large, his gentle, flanging-toned voice filling the space. The landing platform was swiftly approaching, the tenuous talks on the horizon. "Motives and ambitions cloud everything today... but we cannot allow this meeting to come to nought. Lasting peace may be a distant dream borne of an old fool's hope, but what the Republic and Empire can forge here will turn the tide for the fates of many." Their vehicle came to a stop at the platform at last. Moho allowed his smaller colleagues closer to the door to exit first before reaching out with the Force and pulling himself into the open air. His hoverchair followed him and the large Jedi settled himself down into his mobility device. It was a sizable crowd that had formed, cheering and jeering in equal measure until it simply became one noise. Though he remained in the simple garb of his Order, the neat brown and cream coloured robes hiding the chitinous carapace beneath, the Grand Master noticed that he attracted more than a few odd looks. Unsurprising. I doubt most, if any, have seen a Prellian off-world before. Moho maintained a small smile, inclining his head towards the Supreme Chancellor. "Into the breach, Supreme Chancellor," the old Master responded, his amber eyes twinkling. When they proceeded, Moho made certain to acknowledge the personnel watching over the event, both Republic and Imperial alike, as they entered the building proper. The group were ushered into the empty room without much more hassle. Moho took up a space nearby the Chancellor, hovering at hip height and unintentionally looming above most of the other Republic officials as they awaited their erstwhile enemies and honoured fellow guests. They were not left waiting for too long. Moho, ever curious, reached out with his senses and felt her arrival, though he restrained from all but the most passive observations lest his actions be misinterpreted. Her attendants pouring in before her, the Dark Empress herself strode in as if she owned the room, waiting for her chair to be pulled out for her before taking her seat and deigning to lift her eyes to those opposite. Moho inclined his head toward the Empress respectfully. "Supreme Chancellor, please do sit." And already the games begin, the old Jedi thought wearily. An old move, perhaps, but tried and true. Should Chancellor Alder sit, it would be at her behest and the shift in power is clear. He can hardly refuse and remain standing now that she has been seated; that would come off as either impetuous, rude, or both. Of course, this is where I always have the upper hand in diplomacy. I am always seated.

[Rabbit]

Things were happening so fast. His life in the Empire had been predictable all these years since being pulled out of a Nar Shadaa gladiatorial pit - a steady and familiar ascension up the ranks, both Sith and military. Then an invading hive mind from beyond the known borders of the galaxy had materialized out of the void and events seemed to be careening toward a culmination that was simultaneously undetermined and inevitable. And in the Archeri's wake came two events that surprised Keelen greatly - his own Ascension as the newest Pillar of the Empire, and a summit between the Republic and the Empire on a neutral world to discuss the possibility of an alliance.

Or, at least, Keelen hoped that the intended goal was an alliance. He'd fought the Archeri, burned their hideous purple blood with the sting of his dual light sabers. He'd almost lost an entire team of Sith to them, to include his Apprentice. He hadn't had time to follow up with Imago or Sagitta...but he had the sneaking suspicion that even though he'd managed to get them all off of Teth, the Archeri had claimed at least half of their number anyway.

The invading aliens were a certain threat to the galaxy - an apocalyptic one, if left unchecked and undefeated. The new Praetor Magnus stood firm in his private pledge to do whatever it took to see to it that the Archeri were not just brought down, but completely eradicated. That almost certainly required an alliance with the Republic. The Sith and the Imperial military could throw every last one of their numbers against the Archeri and it would come to naught - Keelen was quite certain the same could be said of the Republic.

Of course, the hopeful (or prideful) would insist that the combined power of the Imperial military and the Dark Side of the Force could stem the tide, could wipe the galaxy clean of it even. But, Keelen hadn't gotten where he was by being either hopeful or prideful. There was no room for either in a military mind - only detached, calculating practicality.

Calcuated and practical, Keelen could be...but the necklace that lay beneath his uniform called into question his ability to be detached. On a whim, he had slipped the gold-and-ruby necklace that he'd given to his wife as a courting gift another lifetime ago over his head and tucked it beneath his regulation-white undershirt. For luck, some might have said, but there wasn't a term for the sentiment in Basic and luck fell short of the meaning behind the decision to wear the necklace.

Cunning. Courage. Discipline. Preparedness.

These were Chiss ideals...but they were Sith and Imperial ones, too. They were the only ideals that would see the Archeri defeated.

He wore his wife's necklace, so that he could be reminded of all that was truly at stake, so that maybe the presence of so small a thing could somehow bring those ideals to the table top between the ancient enemies. It was, perhaps, a foolish gesture, a very non-Darth gesture...but it was a private one, that only he need know about. And somehow, the cool weight of it against his chest gave the Chiss Sith a sense of being grounded, of being present and wise.

Wisdom...would that such a thing prevail in such a momentous meeting. Those invited to the table had been few - four from the Republic and four from the Empire. The leaders of each faction and three of their highest-ranking Force users on each side. Keelen had spent the previous evening and early morning carefully studying the profiles of each individual on the Republic's side...as well as those of his fellow Pillars who would be present. Knowledge was power, and all that. Not to mention, knowing enemy and friend alike was the duty of any competent military commander.

Sometimes, Keelen wondered which part of him truly prevailed - the Chiss and military side, or the Sith and Dark Side of him. As he stood stiffly outside of the door of the conference room while he waited for Darth Aurelius to finish his checks, and for the Empress to arrive, Keelen wondered which side of him would prevail inside the room at his back.

Which side of him did the Empire need to prevail? His Ascension to Praetor Magnus practically answered that question before it had a chance to be fully formed. Keelen's back was straight with pride and discipline, his chin high with confidence that he sternly forced every part of his psyche to feel and exude - what his Empress needed, what his Empire needed, was the Chiss and the military commander.

Keelen considered the Republic soldier standing across the hall from him. The man did a commendable job of hiding his nervousness, but there was little in that way that could hide from a Force User's awareness. Not to mention, his species could see on the infrared spectrum and the man was practically radiating an elevated heat signature. Emotions were high all around and at least Keelen couldn't say that he didn't believe that all parties involved understood the summit's considerable gravity. Though...he wouldn't be surprised if the soldier's nervousness wasn't also in part to the fact that he was standing directly in the gaze of an alien he'd most likely never encountered before. He probably couldn't tell that Keelen was also a Sith, since he was dressed simply in his black-on-black uniform. Three bronze stars graced the edge of the stiff collar of his uniform jacket, but without his light saber hilts at either hip, there probably wasn't any way for a Non-Force Sensitive to tell the true nature of what they were dealing with.

Keelen's thoughts were abruptly distracted when he felt a distinctive signature in the Force arrive far beyond the walls and hallways that currently surrounded him. The Empress had arrived at the Galactic Hall.

The Chiss' attention focused on Her Radiance immediately and intently; it stayed that way as she made her way toward the summit meeting room with all her retinue in tow. As she swept regally into view, Keelen placed a fist against his chest and bowed deeply to her until she had passed by. Before turning to follow her in, however, he paused and swept the hallway with both his eyes and his Force senses. All seemed to be safe and in order.

With that determined, Keelen slipped into the conference room just in time to see Her Radiance sit down and then invite the Supreme Chancellor to do the same. One of Keelen's eyebrows twitched in subtle amusement.

Some things didn't change - like political power plays. He'd seen the same sort of move countless times before - it was practically the first power play taught to any Aristocra's child. In many ways, it was not dissimilar to tried and true military tactics - always take the enemy's high ground.

For his own purposes, Keelen remained standing a few moments longer, lingering in the back of the room a mere step away from the wall. It gave him a chance to observe the body language of all others present and it also gave him an opportunity to follow the cues of those who were still in many ways his superiors - if only for the time that they had spent ahead of him in the Inner Sanctum. Keelen stood out in the room as certainly as the Prellian - the Jedi Grand Master, he absently recalled from his mental notes - and if there was one thing he was painfully aware of, it was the minefield of opportunities he had to undermine his own credibility and that of his Empress, before he ever had a chance to open his mouth.

Maybe he was overthinking things...but he was, and always would be, an Aristocra's son. He had been raised from birth to understand and respect the fact that much could be lost or won without a single word being uttered.

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

Verity sat still as a doll as a young woman in patriotic Republic blue stared at point after fixed point of her face with the utmost concentration. Sponge and pencil and brush whispered over her skin, each contributing to this quick, subtle alchemy. Until Verity might not have fully recognized herself – if she had not played this song and dance before, myriad interviews surrounding the war. Double standards based on age, sex, species … Now, it would really have been amusing if they sent someone with paints and brushes to menace the Prellian. Alas. Her eyelids shivered down as the new Grandmaster delivered an ambitious proclamation, all the physical acknowledgment she could manage without disturbing the makeup artist’s work. Verity didn’t disagree, for the most part. Still, she hoped her colleagues would keep the current crisis in realistic focus. It mattered so much more in the short term. The speeder set down and the woman applied a final glossy substance to Verity’s lips, then backed away with a critical eye toward her work. ”Thank you, uhm … Zephora.” Verity stumbled slightly over the name on the makeup artist’s apron and climbed out ahead of Moho. The Prazhi sunlight was warm on the braided coils of her hair and on the back of her robe, the most elaborate and formal that she owned. Even so painstakingly arranged for the good effect of the Republic, the Battlemaster felt regrettably naked without her sabers. At least the other side would be held to the same solemn restrictions. Verity nodded a respectful greeting at Chancellor Vrieska. If he had not asked it, she would presently be aboard some warship sifting through reports or practicing drills. It seemed incautious to place a quarter of the high council in one place – should the worst happen. But she could not refuse a direct request from a friend. Especially after General Stellar had been called elsewhere. Verity let the others go in first, matching pace a step or three behind the Grandmaster’s hoverchair. Her presence here, as she understood it, would be largely ornamental in these opening stages. She was an instructor and a commander, no diplomat. The whole of the table, she saw, was comfortably within her ability to kinetically shield. Of course sections – halves – would be marginally easier. She settled into the seat to Alder’s left, opposite Lord Aurelius. Opposite, hm. Very true. He was her opposite number within the Sith Order. Formerly and perhaps still a teacher – her grasp on the Imperial cults was imperfect. She watched him with undisguised curiosity. He looked so much younger than expected. Hello irresistible force. Meet immovable object. The Empress was instantly recognizable, a point to fix and hold the attention of the others. The There were two other men with the Imperial delegation that she didn’t recognize. Verity rested her hands flat on the table and waited, quietly alert.

[Ghostie]

Of the entire Jedi delegation which had been sent to Prazhi, Master Orren Fyek had been perhaps the most silent on the their trip to the Galactic Hall. Usually, the Miraluka enjoyed the presence of his long-time mentor and the newly appointed Grandmaster, Shovaah Moho. The Prellian seemed to always be in an upbeat mood, with a bright aura around him and little pieces of wisdom to always impart. And Orren found that there was always something to discuss with Verity Vyshaan, the Jedi Order’s Battlemaster. After all, they had the next generation of Jedi to train, and she was one of the masters at the forefront of that, aside from the Miraluka himself. But not today. Today, Orren had fallen into a quiet, stoic silence as he contemplated the historic summit that the Jedi were about to take part in.

Orren, for his part, simply did not trust the Sith. And as the Sith Order and the Sith Empire were one and the same these days, this ran doubly true for all that were going to be sitting across the table from the Jedi and Republic delegation. Of course the Miraluka supposed that no one in the speeder he shared would completely trust the Sith. Still, he felt that his own misgivings ran deeper than both Masters Vyshaan’s and Moho’s. The Master of the Jedi Order was perhaps more critical of their opposite number, more judgemental. It was a mindset that had come from seeing his own, first Padawan fall to the dark side during the Death of Taris. He had failed to see Kyra’s flaws. He had failed to instruct her more thoroughly.

And therein laid the lesson; knowing one’s faults, and being able to overcome them. It was, in a way, what being a Jedi was really quite all about.

So the Miraluka would put aside his judgements, criticisms, and misgivings for this summit, and whatever became of the outcome here. He had to, as the fate of the Galaxy could very well be at stake. If they could not meet this Archeri Invasion as a united front, both sides of the Galaxy would perish. Orren had his own, personal encounter with the Plague just off of Ukio. Master Moho had been part of the mission over Attahox. The Jedi Order, and the Republic as well, was quite aware of what these invaders were capable of. And both were well aware that it might just be beyond them. That fact that the Sith had agreed to this meeting, well, Orren hoped that they had come to the same conclusion.

"Over three hundred and fifty years of experiencing visions, both voluntarily and otherwise, and there are still events that remain obscured to me. Motives and ambitions cloud everything today... but we cannot allow this meeting to come to nought. Lasting peace may be a distant dream borne of an old fool's hope, but what the Republic and Empire can forge here will turn the tide for the fates of many."

“Let us put even our own motives aside, then, and being the driving force in forging something for the good of all.” It was only Master Moho’s words that finally made Orren look up at his companions, his eye-less face resting on the Grandmaster who was, as always, a bright beacon of light in the Miraluka’s senses. He nodded at the Prellian’s words, his hooded head moving only a bit at the gesture. Motives and ambitions had a way of clouding everything, and obscuring the real goal. If the Jedi, Republic, and Sith could all come to terms on how to deal with these Archeri, then perhaps a lasting peace was no so distant a dream as the Grandmaster suggested. Grinning despite himself, Orren couldn’t help but point out that fact. “While they have already wrought some lasting damage on the Galaxy, perhaps the Archeri were just what was needed for the Empire and the Republic.”

It was not long after the little exchange was had that the speeder slowed to a stop, and opened slowly. As it did so, the roar of the crowd, mixtures of cheers and jeering turned into an overwhelming crescendo. Orren waited patiently for Master Vyshaan to exit, then Moho, and the Miraluka brought up the rear, his cloak protecting his face from the high Prazhi sun as he joined the Chancellor and the other Jedi. He let the Grandmaster take the lead, which was a breath of fresh air for Orren as he had been one of the only leaders in the Jedi Order for a little awhile. Bowing to Vrieska, the Miraluka fell into step with the rest of the delegation, just behind and to the side of the Prellian, next to Master Vyshaan. Prazhi was much as Orren remembered it from the signing of the peace treaty only a few years ago; guards everywhere, delegations dressed elaborately, and everyone’s nerves on high alert for, well, just about anything.

Orren, for his part, was draped in the same cream robes which had worn to the Republic’s Gala, a long tabard and tunic, with simple boots wrapped up past his ankles and a tan cloak. It was, quite possibly, the only piece of somewhat formal attire he owned, and kept him looking like a Jedi, through and through. The only thing that was missing from the Miraluka’s simple leather belt with it’s simple metal buckle was his lightsaber. That. however, didn’t bother Orren the way it had some of the Jedi who had come to Prazhi. After all with only one arm, he relied on the Force to be his ally, over any weapon. The simply brown wrapping her wore to cover his eyes kept his focus forward, instead of looking about. Even from this distance, he could sense the dark side that radiated off of the Sith waiting for them.

A short walk later, the delegation was across the table from the Sith. Upon entering, the Master of the Jedi Order removed his hood, and smoothed out his ever greying, comb-over hair. One of the opposite Force users, who from what Orren could sense the Miraluka could only describe as a bit reluctant, was diagonal from him. There was another man directly across from him, a Chiss, who wore a calm, cool, collected facade over an ocean of rage. And there was a third man, not a Force user, but clearly important nonetheless as he took a position at the table. This man was guarded, even moreso than some of the others. But this was all Orren garnered from the group, as his natural Miraluka senses let him. Anything deeper, and the Sith would know. More than likely it would be a brilliant way to destroy the summit, before the Empress even arrived.

And arrive she did, as attendants and others filled into the hall before her. Orren sensed the powerful Force user approach before she entered, but once she did, her arrogance and cunning flooded the room. The Miraluka himself had never made any direct contact with Renata, but he remembered her aura from this same room, about two years ago when the Republic and the Empire made peace. It was nearly impossible to forget, after all. With her entrance, the political games began. It was, Orren thought, a needless and exhaustive exercise. And exercise that the Sith only deemed necessary, so they could try and prove whom held all the power. An exercise that would take this summit completely off-track.

Quieting his criticism, the Miraluka bowed slightly in respect as the others did to the Empress. Orren took up a chair next to Master Moho, feeling just a bit more comfortable next to his old Prellian friend. Finding himself across from the Chiss Sith, Orren waited patiently for the opening remarks. Those, above all else, would tell him just how this summit was going to play out. Yet he did find himself at a disadvantage, as after his injury during the War, he had taken a backseat approach to leadership in the Jedi Order. For that reason, he knew very little of the opposite delegation. For that reason, he kept his ears and senses alert for any information he could gleam about them, from them.

[Rugs]

It wasn’t long before the Sith arrived. As the Jedi councilmen settled into their seats--or stopped at the table, in the Grandmaster’s case--the Sith procession arrived. The Empress, of course, led. She was a short woman. Thin. Alder silently wondered how many had underestimated her because of her frail physical appearance. They would be fools to.

The Force, as he understood, made such things insignificant. They mattered even less in the political realm — and no fool could navigate uniting the Sith Empire and Order as she had.

Well, no fool could with success, anyway.

Two more Sith followed Renata, as did an Imperial Grand Moff. Aurelius, Invictus and Havlen Torrik. The Strategic Information Service had been thorough in its preparations. Alder was sure the Empire’s intelligence counterpart been equally so.

Alder smiled warmly at the Empress’ invitation to sit. “Oh, I will your, Radiance,” he said, voice conversational — as if talking to an old friend rather than a mortal foe. “However, I think it’s best to get some preliminary review out of the way before we begin in earnest.”

The lights dimmed at a motion and a map of the Galaxy, intricately detailed, flared to life just above the round table separating the Republic and Empire. The Sith Empire’s and Galactic Republic’s borders were clearly marked, as were the bounds of Mandalorian Space and countless other star nations, such as the Hapes Consortium. Hutt Space, to the Galactic East, was highlighted with a dull grey as a red blip sudduenly appeared on its far edge.

“As we all know,” Alder began, motioning at the map. Its focus shifted from the Galaxy in whole to the Slice, a wedge stretching from the Core to the Galaxy’s edge. “These invaders appeared from beyond known space more than half a year ago. In the time since, they’ve made quick work of Hutt Space.” The red blip grew as Alder spoke, like a rash from a festering disease until it filled the bounds of the the Arhceri Chorus’ present holdings.

“The Archeri Chorus has shown little regard for affiliation, for species or creed in its conquest,” he went on. “They seek only to consume. Hundreds of millions have fallen to them already, with hundreds millions more infected with this Plague they’ve loosed upon the Galaxy. Billions more people are under threat now, and with the Hutt’s military assets largely destroyed or brought under the Archeri’s control, there’s little to stop them from taking the rest of Hutt Space.”

“The Galactic Republic is committed to ending this crisis,” Alder said as the lights rose slightly. The map remained, returning to its original display of the entire Galaxy. “The Republic has stood for more than 20,000 years, through countless crises, and we will see it through this one.”

Alder sat now, in an easy motion. He folded his hands comfortably on as he looked at Renata. “What will you do?”

---

Aurelius settled in at Renata’s right-hand side. It amused him, somewhat, to think of his rise in a short decade, from an urchin the Galaxy’s underbelly to... this. Having a seat with the two most powerful people in the Galaxy.

In politics, anyway, he thought, hiding a smug smile. I doubt the dear Chancellor there could make it away alive if any of us wanted to kill him.

But then, that was why all the Jedi were here, wasn’t it? Aurelius’ looked up, golden eyes meeting the dark brown of the Jedi Battlemaster settling in across from him. He nodded to her in greeting. Aurelius held no personal ill-will toward the Jedi--at least, not as many as many of his compatriots. They were simply an obstacle to deal with; oil to the Sith Order’s water.

Or maybe flame, he thought. Oil and water could coexist, at least.

The Battlemaster was one he could likely at least hold a decent conversation with at least. But the others — a Miraluke a and strange crab-man — he was less sure. It would depend on how dogmatic they were.

But as the lights dimmed and the poltical games between Renata and the Chancellor began, Aurelius was only sure that these next few days were going to drag.

What will we do? Aurelius scoffed silently. Fight of course. That was the only thing there was to do. The Archeri didn’t care about politics, and they certainly hadn’t come to talk. They were strong, and took what they claimed.

In that respect — disgusting as the aliens were — Aurelius could at least respect them.

[Meira]

"“Oh, I will your, Radiance. However, I think it’s best to get some preliminary review out of the way before we begin in earnest.”

Renata's thin lips held her smile, not at all phased by Alder's response. Lifting one hand, palm up, she gestured to indicate he could proceed. "By all means." she said, and settled her hand onto her other on her lap.

A moment later, Alder's presentation began. Renata's focus was with him and the holomaps, at first. It did not take long, however, to see that Alder was merely stating what everyone in the room already knew. There was a strange new species wreaking havoc through Hutt space and it threatened to galaxy at large. Her smile settled into a thin lined smirk, though not out of annoyance. While these Summit talks were classified, a formal record would still be maintained by both parties. Even if each attending member knew the purpose of the talks, it would need to be plainly stated for that record. Better that Alder get it out of the way, then. And so Renata allowed her senses to settle into the room, molding around the edges of the rest. The corner of her mouth twitched as she recognized the catchy advertisement Havlen looped in his mind. He and Alder were such a stark contrast to the eddies of force power that churned from the rest of the room's occupants. Indeed, they were both something of a relief valve of sorts. There was no denying the sheer, raw power potential of the Sith and Jedi present. Such energy, unchecked, could build up a terrible tension. Renata imagined that, without their -in a word- secular presence, these talks would very quickly degrade into dogmatic debate and eventual, if not inevitable violence.

She was, after all, a proud woman. She had overcome adversity and her own failings to claw her way to her position as the most powerful woman in the galaxy. She would allow nothing to stand in her way now. The Jedi, in their own way, were just as proud and jealous with their power. They could call it stewardship, service, or even chivalry if they wanted. But when threatened, the Jedi fought and killed just like anyone else. But Renata was not here to argue dogma with the Jedi. She was here to negotiate with the Republic. They were necessary baggage, nothing more. She would have to trust in the Republic's promise that their Jedi would likewise set aside their opinions and tolerate, if not genuinely respect her position as the head of the Empire and the Sith. Though, she'd be a liar if she claimed not to take some pleasure at knowing the tolerance of her presence and those of her Sith entourage was anathema to the Jedi and their code.

The light's rose and Renata's focus shifted back to Alder individually as he concluded his short presentation and seated himself. Her smile returned, white teeth behind the thin red lines of her wide mouth. She allowed him the moment or two needed after his concluding question to create the tension of shifting power in the room. What was a Summit without a little back and forth? If cooperation between their two states was necessary to combat this common foe -and Renata did indeed believe it was- then such give and take would be par for the course. And it was, admittedly, just plain good fun. So Renata waited those several bated seconds before responding.

"Chancellor," she said, her voice gentle and with just a hint of what might be construed as deference, "We thank you for taking the time to educate Us on this grave and urgent matter." She inclined her head slightly toward him. "We assure you that the weight of the coming decisions and negotiations rest heavily on Our heart, and We are not unappreciative of the eons of wisdom and experience Our friends in the Republic represent."

Renata straightened in her chair, her back tall and rigid and her chin lifted slightly. "Our answer to you, dear Chancellor, is simple. We will do what must be done. Not only to 'see Us through' this crisis, but to overcome it. To master it, and to destroy any threat to Our people, Our liberty, and Our sovereignty. Simple, but not easy. We are prepared to eradicate this plague and the Archeri who bring it. They are incompatible with all that the Empire holds most sacred and the two cannot coexist."

Renata paused again, allowing herself that lovely moment of tension. "Perhaps the better question, Chancellor, is how shall the Empire and Republic accomplish this monumental task together."

[CaptainBonkers]

A dead tree might stand for centuries through sheer luck before wind or fire brought it down. Havlen entertained the idea of voicing this observation very briefly but held his tongue. He wasn’t here to trade barbs with the Republic representatives. Besides, comparing the Republic to a dead tree was not necessarily the most accurate of descriptions; it was more akin to a tree slowly rotting from within. There was no rescuing it. The disease had spawned in its roots, slowly creeping through its core to every branch and leave of it, and now the only thing of use it could do was to burn down so that something better might rise from its ashes.

To give the Republic the smallest of credit, stagnant stability and mob rule did have some merit; with minimal effort and maintenance one could keep the ship running for a long time as long as no one tried to rock the boat or accomplish anything great. As long as one was willing to settle for indecisive mediocrity it was an excellent form of government. Havlen very much wasn’t. Sooner or later, the Republic would have to removed from the galactic map so that something stronger and better could take its place.

The information conveyed by Chancellor Vrieska’s presentation conveyed very little new information, but Havlen still committed the projection of Galaxy in memory. The Republic had most likely scrubbed the map from any information not pertaining to the Archeri but studying it later might still be a worthwhile endeavour. If nothing else, cross referencing it with other official Republic maps might shed light to their current psyche. Did they claim systems calling themselves independent still part of their league? Had they given up on some regions? What colours were they using when depicting themselves or the Empire? Each individual detail alone was quite worthless but when put together with a million others, a pattern might emerge. And patterns might be exploited for Imperial gain.

The Chancellor himself was putting on a good show but Renata gave a good retort to his grandstanding. However, as entertaining it was to watch the two of them exchange faux-cordial comments at each other, Havlen wished they could get into real work soon. The faster they worked through this farce and let him get back to his real work the better. Unfortunately he had a sinking feeling in the back of his head that the Republic would likely drag this thing on for a good while. The words ’Not good enough’ and ’unacceptable!’ came to mind. The latter would likely be heard as soon as the discussion would veer into post-crisis spheres of influence in the Hutt Space.

Havlen fully expected the Republic try to limit the Empire’s right to establish a number of new depencies within the Hutt space while setting up a score of ’independent democracies’ themselves that would just coincidentally choose to join the Republic right after their first elections, thus inflating their bloated influence in the region. Althewhile still trying to get the Empire to commit to take care of the more dangerous Archeri targets.

However, he also assumed that they knew they ultimately would not be able to get away with such tactics; after all the whole point of this meeting was ultimately to divide the Hutt Space in a manner that hopefully avoided the reignation of hostilities for a few more years at least. Havlen himself would have preferred a few more generations but knew himself to be in the minority in such thinking. It unfortunately often seemed that the hawks would have their way, the lure of short term gains being hard to resist. All Havlen could do was continue to advocate waiting and to make sure that the when war finally came the Empire wouldn’t burst into a general revolt.

[Blue]

There was a significant weight in the room. A great amount of power was here, both spiritual and political; both rolled into one, in the case of the Empress. To Moho's mind, sensitive to the Force as it was, the enclosed space fairly groaned under the pressure of ego and pride that all sides had brought in with them. The Supreme Chancellor began, explaining things that everyone in the room already knew. Though the old Jedi's understanding of politics on a galactic scale was limited and he had yet to have that many interactions with the Chancellor, the Prellian was still surprised at how defensively the man was acting. He could not understand why the Chancellor was surrendering the initiative so easily, allowing the Empress to- "Perhaps the better question, Chancellor, is how shall the Empire and Republic accomplish this monumental task together." ... To say exactly that, and knocking the uncomfortable question right back into the Republic's court and wasting more time they did not have. Moho had not been all that certain in regards to what he was expecting when he encountered the Dark Empress of the Sith for the first time, but he honestly did not expect that he would be agreeing with her. Of course, the Grand Master did appreciate the tightrope walk these talks would be. Neither side were willing to show weakness to the other, despite the fact that this meeting was a testament to their collective acknowledgement that they were too weak to stop the Archeri Chorus alone. Republic and Empire would be eyeing the other up for chinks in the armour, for vulnerabilities to exploit, for opportunities to take advantage of for their own benefit or simply to humiliate their erstwhile foe. They were two predators, circling each other over territorial rights while the hunters closed in to kill them both. And somebody is playing a tiresomely repetitive tune in their head. Now it will be stuck in my mind all day. Organising military access, so that the Republic can reinforce Empire worlds in the event of a Chorus attack, and vice versa. Setting up co-operative supply lines for the smooth transition of supplies and troops to avoid stepping on each others toes. Staking 'no-go' areas and sector boundaries to ensure the safety and stability of both galactic powers. The sharing of data on the Chorus obtained from their repeated attacks, and missions that have encountered them. These are the things that they should be talking about, not this defensive political tip-toeing. But Moho kept his thoughts guarded and to himself, his large face and amber eyes betraying nothing. Neither the Supreme Chancellor nor the Empress would have reached their stations without some basic sense. That they both agreed to this meeting at all proved that. If this is how they make themselves comfortable before getting on with the task at hand, let them dither a little while. I am certain they will get to the point soon. And if they do not, then for the sake of expediency I will endevour to bring the point to them myself. One life lost to the Chorus was one too many.

[Rugs]

Alder’s gaze did not waver from Renata’s one second of heavy silence stretched into two, into three and four and on. His hands remained in place, comfortably folded across the great round table that separated them. His shoulders kept their set, his face, a neutrally-expectant expression.

Still, the silence stretched. Until finally, the Empress spoke.

Alder allowed a wry half-smile and subtle nod of the hand in response to her thanks and listened as she spoke of the Empire’s goals. The Empire, as she put it, sought to quell the Archeri threat, as did the Republic.

That much was obvious. Not just for the Archeri, but for any threat. No sovereign nation — especially an empire with the... viewpoints as the Sith — would stand to bear a threat against itself. And the Empire made little effort to hide its domineering ways from the Galaxy at large.

Yet it was the last what Renata said--meant surely to be a bit of a barb to itself — that might have put a smile on Alder’s face, in friendlier company. As it was, he nodded quietly, and leaned back in his chair, studying the fourth Sith representatives arrayed before him.

Good. he thought. Renata had brought the matter of cooperation to the table herself. While the Summit was, ostensibly, a chance for the Republic and Empire to forge an alliance of necessity, Alder had seen talks — domestically and between foreign nations — crash and burn before they could truly get off of the ground due to senseless pride.

It seemed here that both parties were truly committed to solving this terrible task, leaving room for the actual hard work of negotiating to begin.

“I have put no small amount of thought to that question in the time leading to this meeting, Empress,” he said. “The Republic is willing to commit military assets to combat this threat. We would hope the Empire is willing to do the same.”

A pause as his gaze steadied again on Renata. He leaned forward again, just slightly. “But you and I both know a military commitment is the bare minimum in the face of the wildfire spreading through Hutt Space.

“If we are to stop this, we must, as you say, work together. Doing that will require a greater degree of coordination than I think anyone ever dreamed--or dreaded, depending on your preference--of occurring between our nations. We must create a system for joint military action. To do that, I think we need to accomplish three things.”

Alder held up three fingers, touching each in turn as he spoke. “We must establish a system for shared intelligence with regards to this threat. We must create a joint command structure so that our forces can operate smoothly together. And we will need to establish direct lines of communication so that information can be relayed to where it needs to go as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

Alder’s lips pressed into a line. In theory, all easily-achievable goals. But there were landmines, particularly in matters of command, for both sides. How much information would each side share with the other? How integrated would this joint force, should it come to fruition, be?

For all those, the one that worried Alder most was one he’d yet to speak.

“And we must, for the preservation of peace once this crisis has been resolved,” he said, voice steady and strong, “lay out the foundation for the post-crisis order in Hutt Space.”

That question had many lesser part’s in Alder’s mind, from occupied space to what would happen to the nascent Force-adepts littering the region in the wake of the Chorus’ arrival The Republic, at current, had no designs on Hutt Space. It was, generally, too underdeveloped and sparse to be worth the trouble and it’d take years, if not decades, to prepare the systems to properly join, if they even wanted to.

However, the Republic would also not stand by if the Sith or anyone else made a landgrab with the Hutts decimated after the Archeri invasion.

[Meira]

Alder did no disappoint. The last time they'd met on this planet, both the Empire and the Republic were creatures laid bare, gasping for breath. Their talks had been brief then, no time or desire for banter or word games across the table. They'd made their cease fire arrangements and each retreated to lick their wounds. It was good to see that, healed and healthy, the Empire and the Republic were as equally ready for witty repartee as they were for desperate action. But Alder also did not linger on this portion of the proceedings. Though the levels of ambient annoyance seemed to be rising in the room -from where, Renata could not be certain without committing more focused attention- the political grandstanding and chest beating seemed relatively light. Alder had recognized her push for what it was, an invitation to set the nerfshit aside and get down to the true business at hand.

It also seemed apparent that Alder could not resist an opportunity to lecture. Renata was sure he would not call it lecturing. That word was, admittedly, a bit harsh. But it was not inaccurate. In this, Renata was finding an interesting difference between the leadership of a Supreme Chancellor her own Imperial majesty. Were answers demanded of him in his position? Was Alder expected to be a leader who presented all the ideas himself? For a man representing the Republic, a supposedly far more democratic form of government than her own Empire, Alder was not sharing the process of generating strategy. He'd seized that entirely for himself. Renata wondered if the dangers presented to his border planets were putting a strain on the Senate. Were those planets demanding immediate action from the core?

It was not as if her own systems were not crying out for aid. But for Renata, the demand for answers was her own. She kept her councils and from them all she pulled the different possible strategies and plans of action. The pressure was on them to present her with the options, not the other way around. This did not, of course, lift the weight of rule from her shoulders. In its own way, it all settled more heavily on her. She did not have to make the plans, but the decision of which plan to follow was hers and hers alone, as were the consequences of those plans. How did that weight settle on her counterpart? Did he feel it at all?

Renata leaned forward with Alder as he listed off the necessities of their joint response to the Archeri menace on his fingers. He might have been greedy in claiming them all as his thoughts from the start, but that did not make him wrong. Communication and sharing of vital information would be the key elements to their cooperation moving forward. These were also likely to be areas of great contention.

"A clear and simple joint command structure is certainly key." Renata replied. "If this is agreeable, We believe our respective forces will be able to operate with general autonomy when needed. We recommend a simple council of say... four. Two from the Empire and two from the Republic. All joint operations approved through their guidance and independent mission information relayed through them as well.

"To the point of sharing intelligence, We believe that a narrowed focus will foster productive efforts on both sides. All intelligence shall be collected toward the goals of discovering and exploiting the weaknesses of the Archeri first. This is an enemy that has shown no mercy or desire to coexist. No efforts will be made by the Empire to spare them. They will be eradicated, nothing less. Secondary to this shall be efforts to combat, suppress, and perhaps cure the disease that accompanies these creatures. As you say, Chancellor, We must not neglect the post-conflict needs of the region.

"To that end," Renata stated, her voice taking on a very formal and unwavering tone. "We are prepared to do what must be done, and that includes harsh action against any threat to Our borders. The Empire will not entertain any notion of breaking the quarantine of affected space. Aid and support to the victims of these creatures will be given, of course. But no being will be allowed into the Empire if infected. We must establish refugee centers in neutral systems within Hutt space where joint efforts to help survivors can be carried out without fear of spreading the disease. As Hutt space is cleared, specifics of maintenance and reconstruction can be discussed. We are certain that whichever of our Hutt friends survive would most certainly have a desire to be at the table for that conversation, don't you agree?"

Renata had half a mind to tut-tut the Supreme Chancellor, but she ended with a gentle smile instead. Of course they each were thinking of the possibilities and challenges that Hutt space would present once this invasion was handled. On the one hand, any opportunity for the Empire to grow was an enticing one. Hutt Space was conveniently located and could provide some promising resources and hyperspace routes to control. It would also be decimated by the time all of this was over. What little infrastructure the Hutts had put into place might all be wiped out by the Archeri. They seemed to care little for commerce, merely consuming whatever fell before them. Would the systems be worth taking at all? Some, certainly, if for no other reason than to keep pressure on the Republic. But there were too many factors still at play to determine the details now. The land grabbing could wait.

[Rugs]

“Certainly,” Alder said, smiling broadly. “We would hardly want to arrive to any final decisions without the input from the Cartels. It is, after all, their territory that’s in question here. However, I’m sure you understand the value in taking opportunities for dialogue as they’re presented.”

Alder wasn’t entirely sure the Hutt Grand Council would survive this crisis in any sort of shape to negotiate anything. Some of its members, per SIS reports, had fled Hutt Space with their riches in tow. Other remained, stubbornly clinging to Nal Hutta despite the overwhelming odds against them.

It was, truthfully, surprising and commendable, in its own way, to see such dedication from the Hutts. But foolish, for a nation facing annihilation with no military to stop it.

But if Nal Hutta fell, what would the Grand Council have left to rule? Tattoine?

More importantly, he wanted some sort of assurance the Empire didn’t plan to rush a vulnerable Hutt Space once the Archeri were cleared out. Were that the case, this whole exercise would just be an elaborate set up to jump from one war to another.

Discussions for another day, perhaps. The Republic and Empire still had much to work through to finish these talks, today’s opening dialogue would be far from the last of it all.

Even so, they had a promising start for negotiations here. Renata seemed open to the goals he’d suggested, and her suggestions were good ones. Now came the work of actually solidifying the details of a pact before the Galaxy fell apart.

“I am glad,” he continued aloud, allowing a smile “to see the Empire’s willingness to work with the Republic on these crucial issues. I believe our cooperation is critical for the Galaxy’s continued safety.”

Alder settled slightly into his chair and motioned for one of his aides to bring a thick stack of flimsiplasts. Intelligence briefings, generalized Republic military reports that didn’t contain overly-sensitive materials, what research the Republic had been able to conduct and collect on the Archeri invaders — and these were just the overviews.

“I think it’s best we begin setting some outline for a joint military structure,” he said, flipping through the flimsies. “I do have a few names in mind for the Republic’s members of the command council...”

And so the heavy duty of negotiating began, in earnest.

[Meira]

A few days later...

“I admit, Chancellor, I have been remiss.” Renata said, lifting her fluted glass from the table and taking a small sip. “We’ve been working together all these hours and I have not yet asked you of your wife. Is she well?”

Alder paused halfway through peeling off the chitinous shell on the back of a large, red crustacean on his plate. It was a fine dish. Fresh caught from one of Prazhi’s oceans and delivered to the Galactic Hall earlier in the day. “She is,” he said. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Back at home on Alderaan, with Chalen.”

“Yes, your daughter. Of course. And how is she? Still in her studies?”

“She is,” he said. “Nearly done now. Once she finishes her last year, she’s expressed an interest in learning from her aunt, who manages the family vineyards.” He raised his own glass, a mirror of Renata’s, with a little nod. “Politics and wine — it’s a long tradition in the family.”

Renata smiled, tilting her glass at Alder’s words and took another sip. Her own plate, mostly picked over now, had been set with a fresh and brightly colored salad of local produce. She set her napkin down alongside the plate and, almost immediately, a nearby attendant stepped over to collect the dish and take it away. Between them, a basket of freshly baked bread still sat and she reached forward to take a slice. She held it over a smaller side plate, pulling the fluffy middle away from the thick crust as she considered the man who sat across from her.

“You must be very proud.” she said.

“I am,” he said. The crustacean’s shell cracked sharply as he pulled it apart at a joint. White meat, steaming gently was visible through the new opening. “I have wondered, Empress, what do you do to take the edge off?” He looked at her for moment. “Managing a nation is hard work in the best of times. How do you recenter yourself?”

At his question, Renata’s eyes moved down to the bread in her hands as she considered her answer. “Well,” she said, taking a small bite and chewing for a moment, “there are the simple things. A warm bath or a good book. Dromund Kaas has some excellent rain storms, they’re perfect for reading. I garden.” she paused, her ice blue eyes glancing up at the Chancellor, considering. After a moment, she decided whatever reaction she got would be worth it and continued. “But, the one thing that always does the trick…” she leaned forward, conspiratorially, “public executions.” she smirked, pulling another bite from the bread and sitting back to chew.

Another beat, and she laughed, shaking her head at the absurdity of the notion. There were public executions, of course, from time to time. But Renata rarely attended them. In fact, she hadn’t personally been present at one since Novus.

Alder’s brows rose a the last of Renata’s hobbies. Then, as she laughed, he joined her, chucking for a few moments. “I can’t say I do anything that exotic, Empress,” he said. “I like to hunt, mainly, when the Senate’s got me on the edge of losing my damn mind.” Or when anything did, really. He suspected he’d spend a week getting lost in some forest on Alderaan when this whole Archeri mess was done. Maybe he’d invite Horst. Force knew the man would need a vacation. “Nothing to bother with but nature-”

His private communicator buzzed his suit jacket pocket. Frowning, Alder opened his coat. “I gave specific instructions not to bother me unless...”

IMPERIAL TASK FORCE HAS SPLIT FROM MAIN FLEET AT AF’EL. The message was from SIS. HEADING INDICATES POSSIBLE ROUTE TOWARD BOZ PITY. AWAITING FURTHER INTELLIGENCE.

Alder sighed, tucking the communicator away. Across from him, the Empress’ eyes tightened at their edges. The air around the Chancellor shimmered in the Force and Renata allowed her own senses to seep out toward the man. Their long hours in conference over the past few days had allowed the two to acclimate to each other. They learned subtle cues in one another’s body language and had quickly decoded the nuances of speech they each used. And Renata learned Alder’s presence within the Force. She’d quickly memorized that presence, and could now feel the disquiet that the message had stirred.

“Alder,” she said, using the man’s name rather than his title for the first time since the Summit had opened, “what is it?”

Alder laid his utensils on his plate. His lips pressed as he thought for a long, silent moment. On the other side of the room a Jedi Temple Guard, who stood far enough away to respect Alder’s request for privacy, turned their white and gold mask to study the Chancellor and Empress.

“I had hoped,” he said, “to get through this with as few surprises as possible. There’s too much at stake.” He looked at Renata. “So word that a Sith fleet is moving toward Boz Pity, after the fact isn’t the type of surprise we need here.” Boz Pity, as far as Alder knew, was an empty world. Why the Sith would be after it was anyone’s guess.

More importantly, the news might rattle the frail trust his generals were allowing for this whole endeavor. Horst hadn’t been shy in his opposition.

“I am going to ask you, can you withdraw your forces back to Af’El, as agreed, until this clusterfuck is over? We’ve come too far for this to fall apart.”

It was Renata’s turn to sigh. On the one hand, she appreciated that Alder was willing to accept the no-nonsense condition that her use of his given name invited. On the other, it had been so long since anyone dared speak to her in such a way that it was not unlike an electric shock. In the few moments it took for her to recover, she considered what to say.

It was true that a small force had split from the reinforcements sent to Af’El. And it was true that, per the terms of their newly minted agreements, such a move should have first been communicated through the joint command structures. However, Renata was no fool. She knew that the Republic was monitoring her forces. She’d given orders for the same, after all. For all the trust that was talked about during the Summit, both the Republic and the Empire were proceeding like two predators circling the same wounded prey. She needed to know just how closely the Republic was watching. Orders had been given to probe along the advancing Archeri lines, starting with the smallest units and slowly building size to find that threshold where they might ping the Republic’s radar. It seemed they’d found that threshold.

“Some surprises, I’m sure you understand, are unavoidable. To allow one to topple the progress we’ve made here is to prove the trust we say we’ve built is a lie.” Renata’s hands moved to the armrests of her chair, some tension showing in her forearms in a sure sign of her frustration. “Honestly, Alder, I don’t know why those ships broke off. I await an explanation just as you do.”

That was partially true, at least. Renata had given leave for her forces to investigate as they saw fit. The report had only stated that strange transmissions had been intercepted. All of which originated on Boz Pity.

“In this war, any piece of intelligence might be the breakthrough we need. I told you once that the Empire would do whatever is necessary to crush the Archeri. This is necessary. I will not recall those ships.”

“You will understand, surely, that this will displease my generals,” Alder said, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Two of which form half of the council overseeing this alliance. I’m sure whatever intelligence you find will be of particular interest to General Stellar.”

In truth, Alder was hardly concerned about Boz Pity itself. An out-of-the-way graveyard world, it offered little strategic value and the Republic quite frankly had worlds closer to its doorstep to worry about. Yet the move would surely be seen as a slight, and he had little taste for getting into a tit-for-tat with the Sith when the Galaxy’s safety was at stake.

“We will, of course, remain unyielding in our request that no claims--direct or otherwise--be established in Hutt Space in the face of this crisis,” he said, meeting Renata’s gaze flatly for a moment. “But that’s been made clear enough through these talks.

“More importantly,” he added, lifting his glass, “we need to navigate this without putting this alliance at stake. If my chiefs don’t already know about this, they will soon, and they’re going to be pissing molten steel.”

“The Empire is not beholden to the mood swings of your generals, Chancellor.” Renata replied, a little too quickly. The words were regretted the moment they were out of her mouth. But they’d been spoken, and she was not one to apologize. Taking a moment and a breath, she smoothed her skirts. “And yet, this alliance is indeed paramount. If our agreement is not finalized soon, it will all fall apart around us as the Archeri march across the galaxy.” She reached for her glass, but found it empty.

Standing, she paced over to a side table where the servants had left a decanter before stepping out to allow the two to continue their negotiations. She lifted it and poured, the sound of the red liquid the only thing in the room for a few brief moments. “I’ve my own advisers and generals to think of, Chancellor. And the men on those ships are risking their lives for this intelligence. By now, recalling them would take longer than allowing them to complete the mission. And it could be the breakthrough we need.” She drank, leaning her slight frame against the side table. “So, what do we do?”

What indeed? Alder leaned back, a hand pressed to his chin in thought. “Perhaps,” he started slowly, “we air out the reactions everyone wants.” He looked to her for a long, thoughtful moment. “The Republic cannot — or cannot be seen to, at least — allow the Empire to go on unannounced fishing trips, and of course Her Radiance wouldn’t stand to have her Imperial actions questioned.”

“So if we must rage to preserve this alliance, then let us,” he said. “But at the end of the day, this alliance must stand. And besides. We haven't signed anything yet.”

With each word, Alder coaxed a smile back across Renata’s features. She had not expected him to be one for exploiting theatrics to suit his needs, but… they were indeed short on options. And it was entirely true. They were tasked with forging an alliance between two powers that were all but incapable of any sort of flexibility for fear of appearing weak. Perhaps it would prove to be an impossible task, but their alternative was not appealing either.

“And I am sure that, by the time we do sign it, the... paperwork error for this reconnaissance mission will have been corrected.” Her smile broadened, and she drank down the last of her wine in one smooth motion. “Well then,” she said, “shall I set the scene?”

Renata winked, and then flung her wine glass to the side, shattering it on the nearby wall. At the edge of her senses, she felt the Jedi Temple Guard stiffen and then spring to action, rushing toward her and the Chancellor.

“How DARE you presume to insult Us!” Renata exclaimed, her voice channeling that sense of power she used so often.

The glass shattered against the wall, and the die was cast. Alder, inhaling deeply, stood, slamming both hands on the table before him hard enough to rattle the plates in front of him. “Insult you?!” he said loudly, feigned anger keeping his voice full but just below a shout. “The Empire insults the Republic, with its skulking! We are treating this crisis seriously while you play games!”

The Temple Guard arrived in a bustle of robes, putting herself between Chancellor and Empress. “Please, remain calm,” she said firmly. “I think it’s best that this lunch end now.”

“Heed your dog, Chancellor.” Renata said with a dramatic swish of her gathered skirts. “We will await your apology.”

She turned, chin held high as she all but stomped from the room. It was an effort to keep her cheeks in a proper scowl. The doors flung open before her, and her own guards who waited just beyond snapped to attention. They followed in her wake, past the open office doors of diplomats from both sides. Figures, comes to stand in those doorways and see what spectacle had arisen, shrank back as she passed.

But one doorway held no gawking ambassador. Beyond it, several representatives -Sith and Republic alike- gathered instead around a holoprojector.

On it, a grim-looking reporter was reading the latest news from the Y’Toub system with a grainy image behind him that set a chill in the room--even before the Empress and Chancellor started screaming at each other.

The Singing Spire — the enormous Archeri mothership — loomed over Nal Hutta and Nar Shaddaa. It was, as the news chyron scrawled at the bottom of the feed, declared, a catastrophic development.

“Boy,” one Sith diplomat said, glancing at the door once she was sure the Empress and Chancellor were well out of earshot, “I sure hope they can get their shit together or we’re fucked.”

---

Co-written with Rugs

[Rugs]

Two days later...

Nal Hutta’s fall had been as much a blessing as a curse.

Alder hated that the thought crossed his mind, as Imperial and Republic delegations took their places around the great round table that’d hosted countless debates throughout the Summit. But it’d come at exactly the right time to give both sides the kick in the pants needed to push things into overdrive.

And the perspective to allow them to move beyond the Empire’s adventure to Boz Pity without letting the talks collapse. Though, Horst had burned Alder’s ears up for that one. Deservingly, the Chancellor had eventually come to admit.

Today should cement everything. All their hard work, all the frustrations and doubt that two arch-enemies could ever forge an agreement — it should all be laid to rest by the conclusion of this one final meeting.

On paper, at least, Alder thought as he nodded to the Sith delegation. As his own took their places, he sat, with an array of documents before him. The very same — a finalized draft of the agreement — lay before each member at the table.

A gold pen lay before him. Its twin lay on the other side, before the Dark Empress.

“It’s good to see you all,” Alder said. “Today, we stand on the precipice of a historic agreement. These talks have not been easy. They’ve tested us.” He smiled, subtly. “They’ve pushed us to the edge of our patience, but we’ve found the resolve to work through our disagreements for the sake of the Galaxy.”

The agreement — or the Combined Defense Accord — as it was, laid out the foundation for a unified war against the Archeri Chorus. In doing so it established the Joint Military Operations Command, overseen by two officials from the Galactic Republic and two from the Sith Empire.

The Joint Military Operations Command would be responsible for commanding the Galactic Archeri Defense Force, composed of military forces from both armies. Work was already underway to lay the groundwork for a communications structure for the combined force.

While the agreement went into great lengths to establish the framework for the coming war, it was far from perfect. It offered precious little guidance on what was to follow after the war, other than to say no claims were to be laid during the conflict against the Chorus. Alder and his advisors, at least, had their own plans for that particular problem.

Neither did the accord provide any detail on what was to happen with the nascent Force users popping up across the Galaxy. Or what was to be done about the plague, other than some vague language that both powers were responsible for responding to the plague and ensuring the general public health.

Given some more time, they might have worked more of those details out. But the Chorus’ strike at the Y’toub system meant they were out of time — it would still take weeks to move the needed assets into place if preparations started today.

It was far from a sure thing that they could get to the system in time to stop Nar Shaddaa’s conquest. With nearly 100 billion people on the Smuggler’s Moon alone, it’d be a catastrophe to let it fall to the Chorus.

“Though time now stands against us, we’ve found common ground that we can use to stand against invaders who threaten us all,” Alder said. “The task before us will not be easy. We all know that. But, as we stand, ready to enter into agreements, are there any lingering concerns that we wish to address or modify?”

[Blue]

The summit had been a trying time for the Grand Master. Arrogance had met arrogance; sometimes with subtly, sometimes with uncaring obviousness. Two galactic political superpowers who had until recently been involved in bitter warfare could not meet peacefully without that tainting proceedings somewhat. With the Archeri Chorus on their doorsteps, Moho had thought, perhaps naively, that for once they could put aside their respective prides and make swift a resolution to band together against that common foe. The old Jedi had to constantly remind himself that there were other factors involved. People had lost, been scarred. Those feelings were valid, and to dismiss them offhand would cause just as much damage as a failure to reach an accord would. Yet they were also professionals. They knew that this alliance had to work or else all was lost. But still, they had to politick, and nitpick, and play the game. Now another world, billions of souls, was lost, consumed by the Chorus. All while they played. Shovaah Moho had lived for several centuries. Barring influence or illness, he would live for many more. But never, he felt, was time on his side. And despite what many in the Order might think, his patience was not limitless, especially when it came to those who toyed with the lives of others. Even with his long experience in mediation and teaching, there had been occasions were the Grand Master had come dangerously close to scolding the two most powerful people in the galaxy like a pair of bitterly bickering younglings. Moho acknowledged his frustrations but knew that, despite coming from a place of compassion for those dying to the Chorus, such thoughts were unproductive... and flirted dangerously with a darker side of his psyche. They were living beings, with their own motives and drives. He could not attempt to force or cow them into an alliance; this had to happen naturally, or it simply would not work. Finally, all gathered, a pact had been struck and they were moments from signing the forms that signaled the beginning of their partnership. Moho had read through the papers. There were many things left unsaid about what would happen should the campaign be successful, doubtless as a result of the Chancellor or Empress being unable to budge the other on the matter of settlement rights. This concerned the old Jedi greatly. As it read now, this treaty was merely a promise of another war to follow immediately after, when one side or the other was weakened or out of position. But with Nal Hutta gone and Nar Shaddaa threatened, this would simply have to do. "None. As strange as it is for me to say it these words... the time for talk has passed, and has long since done so. Every moment spent dilly-dallying now will cost billions of lives that will weaken us, and strengthen our shared enemy," the Grand Master responded to the Chancellor plainly, his quiet, calm voice easily reaching to the furthest corners of the room with practiced ease. "It is time that we bent our wills to the task, and cast this parasitic foe back to the dark reaches from which they came."

[CaptainBonkers]

Reaching an agreement had taken plenty of hard work, most of which was likely spent keeping tongues in check. After the nigh complete breakdown of negotiations things had seemed quite dire for a while. What had happened on Nar Shadda had opened the floodgates of refugees fleeing the Hutt Space for the safety of Imperial borders. Before, those fleeing had usually headed for the Republic or independent states bordering the Hutts, where the border security was laxer, but after Nar Shadda the only thing that mattered was getting behind a powerful military that could hopefully halt the Archeri onslaught. All other considerations were secondary to desperate people.

The horde of desperate refugees had put a considerable strain on the Ministry of Security’s ability to police who entered the Imperial space. It had been a challenging task before but now most of spare resources were tied up keeping the refugees in check, making sure that as few as possible broke the quarantine and that those that did didn’t live to tell the tale. They had been forced to deploy a number of half-trained SED cadets alongside the regular SED agents to keep the peace in the refugee flotillas and not all of them had yet internalized the proper mindset for Special Enforcement Division agent, namely dispassionate but ruthless efficiency and professionalism, and were inflaming tensions with improper behaviour. There had been a number of... incidents that the Ministry had had to polish off behind closed doors to avoid riots and such.

The situation was stable, for now, but if the Archeri threat was not disposed with soon Havlen’s ministry would have to resort to drastic measure to keep the quarantines going. Which was why it had been something of a relieve when the negotiations had finally gotten moving again.

As unnatural as it felt to work with the Republic, cooperation was necessary to stave off the Archeri invasion. The only way of defeating an entity such as the Chorus required superior firepower and numbers above anything else which was what this deal would guarantee. It also went a long way of ensuring stability between Empire and Republic post-crisis, though Havlen suspected that further negotiations might be needed down the road to reorganize the Hutt space in a manner that both of them found, if not agreeable, then at least tolerable.

Havlen himself would be working quite closely with Republic, seeing how Renata had seen fit to assign him to be part of the Joint Military Operations Command they were now forming. It would be an interesting opportunity to say the least, though it did hamper his ability to do his actual job somewhat. Times when Havlen had too many balls in the air to properly manage were rare indeed but running a national security apparatus spanning hundreds of systems while also coordinating a war effort was bound to be taxing. Thank goodness for AI assistants and competent subordinates.

As the treaty was, Havlen had nothing to say about it. It covered what it needed to cover. The sooner they could get things up and running the better.

[Meira]

The day had finally come. In truth, it was a wonder that the process had gone so smoothly. But necessity was a powerful motivator and both formal summits between the Empire and the Republic on this neutral world stood testament to that fact. Renata had to admit -privately, of course- that Alder proved to be more than competent on his end of the negotiations. Indeed, he'd shown himself to be surprisingly cunning, while still maintaining at least the facade of a humble and personable nature. That was not an easy thing, and Renata knew that it would never work for herself. Yes, she could feign the weakness of fragile femininity, but she could never allow herself to seem approachable. The Empire was, in a sense, a beast. And as with all beasts, only the strongest survived.

As they came around the table for, hopefully, the last time, Renata reflected on the impact this joint effort with their so recent enemies would have. Many subjects of the Empire, even now, were preparing to work in tandem with members of the Republic. It would only be natural that bonds might form, of professional respect if nothing else. Furthermore, the refugee crisis would cause a blending of systems and people for years to come and the once crisp lines of political loyalty would be blurred, no matter how many declarations of intent were made. The combined efforts to repel the Archeri would, by necessity, be organized and efficient. They could not afford waste or chaos in this endeavor. But the fallout afterward would be messy. There was no avoiding it. She was prepared to meet whatever consequences it brought. Peace or war... whatever the result, would not be as simple as last time. And it had not been simple then either.

Alder, ever the statesman, spoke with proper formality. He could have, she thought, forgone the any more comments invitation. But now was neither the time or place to criticize the idiosyncrasies of a Chancellor. She would also be obliged to forgive the Jedi Grand Master for feeling the need to respond to an obviously rhetorical question. Her own entourage was of course silent on the matter. They, at least, knew better. Renata allowed for a pause after the Grand Master spoke, her ice blue and gold flecked eyes alighting on each of the Chancellor's other Jedi companions in turn to ensure no others felt the need to add their voices. Seeing none, she smiled, a thin red line across her pale face.

"Unprecedented times, while challenging, are an opportunity for those who are willing to rise and become more than previously thought possible." Renata said, her voice measured and warm. "In such times, it is the duty of great leaders to explore all possibilities, however unlikely, to ensure the survival of those they are entrusted to protect. We are confident that future generations in both Our Empire and the Republic will remember this day as the beginning of a heroic and selfless campaign to protect all life in the galaxy."

Renata reached forward, lifting the gilded pen from its place in front of her. "This is, of course, only the beginning." She turned to the marked page of the agreement. "But We are confident in this, and resolved to see it through to completion." Renata lowered the pen to the document and signed.