Don't Wait For The Translation

[Fromikeable]

The tension in the air at the Republic embassy was thick as durasteel. The light hum of holoscreens could be heard distinctly. The shuffle of uniforms, even from the slightest movements. The breathing of a dozen different species. All of them waiting, their eyes locked on each other, waiting to begin.

Republic and Imperial talks had never been relaxed. But now with the trial concluded, they were only more tense.

Horst sighed lightly as he checked his chronometer, looking up. The conference table had been reserved for the day, but even the Zexx mediator seated at its head appeared to be bored, her arms crossed, her eyes unfocused on the ceiling above. The Republic retinue, including their Jedi attache and the Republic diplomats and officers primarily responsible for the organization of JMOC, stood and sat shoulder to shoulder.

Across the table from them, the Sith and Imperial retinues mirrored them person for person, impatient look for impatient look. Save for the seat at the front of their table.

”So.” Horst’s rough voice cutting through the silence was enough to make the Zexx mediator shake herself awake, adjusting her sleeves.

”Your guy comin’, or…?”

One of the Imperial admirals across from him sat up, his expression souring a bit as he cleared his throat. ”The new Minister of War has another seven minutes before the meeting begins. Heavens forbid he keep the mighty and just Galactic Republic from starting early.”

The Zexx mediator sighed. ”Gentlemen, please. Admiral Gifford is correct, General Stellar.”

Horst raised a hand in quiet resignation, sitting back in his chair and checking his chronometer again. Plucking up the holopad in front of him, he flicked Admiral Gifford a final squint before reviewing the matter at hand.

He just wanted this over with. The final strokes of JMOC’s dissolution were not going to be an enviable task even in the best of times. At the command's inception, the protocols for its dissolution had been fairly clear; each military would be in charge of sorting its own house, and the only cooperation needed would have been with regards to ensuring that the proper clearances and permissions were revoked, the fleets properly untangled, and the lines of command completely and cleanly separated.

Then Captain Smarcan had thrown the galaxy's biggest diplomatic wrench in centuries into the mix, and they were left with a mess. Republic command codes in Imperial hands. Imperial intelligence reports in Republic databases. A few desertions both ways. A mess of encrypted command channels in both hierarchies preventing certain avenues of communication. Even a mix-up of support staff; Horst had taken a call just this morning asking what to do with a dozen Imperial cooks that had, in the confusion, wound up at a Republic military station.

His answer had been simple. Restrict them to quarters, feed them well, and await the talk with the Imperial Minister of War today.

And so he waited.

[Symm]

And waited.

The time ticked by on the chronometer, and the tensions in the room grew with each passing moment. The scheduled start came, then went, with still no sign of the Imperial Minister.

Admiral Gifford began to look increasingly uncomfortable as the seconds crawled by. A few minutes past and the Zexx mediator lofted a scaled brow. The Admiral started, a deep flush of annoyance coming to his cheeks, 'I'm sure the Minister will be here any mo-'.

As if on cue, the door slid open with a soft hiss and the gentle sounds of a repulsor preceded Sorin's entrance. His chair brought him into the room, hovering a few centimetres from the ground, and continued towards the table. "Thank you for your patience, everyone. I'm afraid I'm not as spry as I used to be." He smiled.

One of the commanders on the Imperial side removed the chair from Sorin's spot, and the Minister slid the hoverchair into position. A few motions settled the conveyance on the floor, and Sorin set his arms on the table, hands clasped together. He looked straight across the table, ignoring everyone else in the room except for Horst.

A moment stretched before Sorin continued, "Good to see you fit and well, General Stellar. I'm so glad you and I are here, in this place right now, in this room with such exceptional people. The work this joint command did together - what we accomplished together - is simply remarkable." He raised a hand, looked and gestured around the room, including everyone - including the Zexx - in this. "Without this task force, I truly believe that things would have ended much worse than they did. I believe that together, we could overcome any obstacle."

He paused, bringing his eyes back to Horst, "Don't you agree?"

[Fromikeable]

The minutes ticked on, and Horst’s impatience grew. By the time Admiral Gifford was coming up with an excuse, the Republic general was tapping a pen on the conference table, just about ready to leave.

When the door opened, Horst’s pen stopped. Squinted eyes inspected the incoming Minister of War, sizing him up in a very interested, very determined first look. Horst had read the Republic’s dossier on him when news had broken that the Imperial leadership had been changed, but text could only tell him so much.

As Sorin clasped his hands, his stare met Horst’s. The latter didn’t move an inch save for the flicks of his eyes as they inspected every aspect of the other man’s face.

”’Course.” Not breaking his stare, Horst made a motion at the assembled officers. ”Goes to show you what a united, prepared galaxy’s capable of handling. If it hadn’t been for the Joint Military Operations Command, we’d be having a very different conversation about the galactic east right now.” Assuming there still would have been a galactic east to speak of.

”Makes the actions of my countrymen that much more heinous, Admiral Sorin. They’ll see justice, let me assure the Imperial command of that.” Squinting a little harder for a moment, Horst paused. He knew exactly how the traitors had affected Sorin; there wasn’t any use in pretending that a severe courtmarshalling and jail time would satisfy the man or his country.

No, Horst suspected only Coruscant in flames would do that.

Still, an olive branch was worth a try. Softening his expression significantly, he sat up a bit straighter. ”My condolences about your wife and daughter. Captain Dana Sorin seemed like an exceptional officer. The galaxy’s worse off without her.”

[Symm]

The General echoed Sorin's speech in his own words, and to that Sorin did not react. He matched the man's stare, moment to moment, while Horst spoke of the Galactic East. In truth, Sorin wasn't sure if there would be anything left had the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic not come to the table to work together. Sorin was, after all, a pragmatist, and recognised that breaking the spine of the invading species required resources beyond that of the individual Super Powers.

When Horst moved on to the Betrayal, that was when Sorin broke the stare. He leaned back and brought one hand back to rest in his lap while the other draped over the arm of his repulsor-chair. The Minister turned his head slightly from side to side, meeting the gaze of the other Republic representatives at the table while Horst assured him of justice. The statement, the surety behind it, brought a bemused smile to Sorin's face.

There was a moment, a vanishingly brief, where something flashed in eyes that darted back to Horst at the mention of Sorin's wife and daughter. It was a slight narrowing of his gaze, an almost imperceptible flaring of his nostrils; easily missed unless someone watched explicitly for the reaction. It was there for a fraction of a second, then wiped away by the same bemused smile.

Sorin looked down at the table, hand coming up to brush away non-existent dust, "Thank you for saying so, General. Her last order before our bridge blew up was to hold fire, in the name of the alliance. She recognised the potential it held and sacrificed herself for it."

He paused, eyes coming back to meet Stellar's. "I wish to plead with you, to make an offer in the name of that friendship my daughter died for. The tribunal," Sorin gestured towards the Zexx, though did not look at them, "has made its decision. They say that the ultimate authority to discipline Republic soldiers falls to the Republic Military. If that is the case, then the military can discipline them in whatever way they see fit. So I ask you, as the ranking representative of the Republic Military, to discipline your soldiers by handing them over to the Empire. I can promise that they will be given a fair trial. It would go a long way to restoring trust in the Republic."

[Fromikeable]

Horst could tell by the tiny flare in Sorin’s expression that he’d made a mistake. The ensuing request was hardly unexpected, but the tone, he suspected, was a direct result of the matter at hand. In order to sound so sincere, Sorin would’ve had to bring up his family on his own. Instead, Horst had practically set it up for him.

This was why he hated politics. He couldn’t even give the man a basic act of compassion without it becoming a mess.

”Trust in the Republic.” Resisting the urge to scratch his stubble, Horst sat back a bit, resting his hands on the table. Regarding Sorin for a second, Horst did his best to pick his words carefully.

”With all due respect, Admiral, that’s a crock of bullshit.” Getting a few raised eyebrows from his own officers, Horst shook his head.

”If the Imperial government trusted the Republic whatsoever, they wouldn’t exist. The aristocracy never would have rebelled, the war wouldn’t have happened, and the Galactic Court wouldn’t even be delivering rulings on its own sector. No offense.” Motioning at the mediator, she sighed audibly.

”This topic of discussion is not what we have assembled to discuss.”

”Lemmie just make it clear-” Horst held up a finger toward her before pointing it at Sorin. ”Forking over a bunch of traitors to ‘Her Radiance’s’ court system isn’t going to fix anything. Same way the Empire never even considered handing over all of the commanding officers in charge of the Taris disaster over to the Republic courts. That’s something that gets done once there’s already some trust to work off-”

”General Stellar-”

”Fine, fine.” Waving a hand, Horst waved at the holopads on the table.

”Personnel swaps or revoking permissions?” Those were the two primary topics of discussion for today. Assuming they could get through them, JMOC would be absolved in all but name.

[Symm]

A crock of bullshit.

That alone gave rise to a small indulgent smile on Sorin's face, while other Imperial officers pretended to look indignant on the Minister's behalf. Sorin had read the briefing on Horst Stellar. Such language was far from the worst that might have expected to escape the General's lips. He took no offence to it; on the contrary, Sorin saw it as Stellar speaking plainly, something that the Imperial courts sorely lacked. It was refreshing.

There was no surprise in the rest. Sorin had never expected Stellar to hand over the Republic soldiers, and frankly, he didn't want him to. The request was nothing more than symbolic, a gesture to point to that showed the Empire made every effort to avoid what was to come. The refutation lit a fire in Sorin's eyes, a triumph in apparent defeat.

Sorin frowned deeply as the General continued, a well-practised act of disappointment. "Of course, General, I understand. I had to ask." He spread his hands out in a gesture of helplessness before continuing, "I had hoped that we, military man to military man, might find a way out of this quagmire, together. While I may not agree with your," he paused, raising a single finger to the Zexx mediator before she interrupted. He continued after she settled, "While I may not agree with your decision, I respect it."

The Minister sat back and folded his hands together in his lap. He looked around the room at the other officers. "Personnel swap, I believe. It seems to fit the theme of our prior conversation so nicely." Sorin nodded slightly to Admiral Gifford, who took up one of the tablets and started talking about Republic personnel in Sith locations.

Sorin, for his part, remained silent throughout these negotiations, allowing the other officers present to take charge.

After some time, while crucial discussions continued, Sorin leaned forward. "I do have a personal question for you, General." The Minister flicked a finger as his speech broke the flow, indicating that the others should continue while he spoke. "I noticed a curious break in service for you, some years back, just after the war broke out. What ever did you do with yourself?"

Around them, the room continued to chatter, working out schedules and routes to best ensure the Sith and Republic got their soldiers back.

[Fromikeable]

The assembled officers began to pair off at different tables, each notably terse. There were no idle exchanges or warm tones; even if today weren’t a matter of serious discussion, there was little good will left to trade between the two militaries. It made the talk of numbers that much more clinical; reducing the other party at the table to statistics and figures demanded a coldness that was already forthcoming.

Horst matched Sorin, quiet as the grave, arms resting on his chair as he sat back. This was a battlefield of its own, and one of the principles of good command was to know when to get out of the way.

So Sorin’s newest question raised one of Horst’s eyebrows, the Mediator clearly indicating that it should be ignored by the other assemblies. As they continued talking, Horst seemed to mull it over.

Not what he would say in response, of course, but whether he should respond at all.

”Set up a pirate outfit to raid Imperial supply lines from a backwater moon.” Horst’s tone was so casual that it failed to be matter-of-fact; his service history was public record, after all. Even if it hadn’t been, the pardon he’d received when the Republic had accepted his reenlistment had made quite the media splash.

”Wasn’t comfortable sitting around half-mobilized while the Imperial fleets pressed into the Mid Rim. After Taris, the Republic agreed.” Shrugging a shoulder, he huffed.

”Guess the galaxy wasn’t thrilled at the idea of an autocratic despot ruling the galaxy. Even some of the aristocrats weren’t, from what I heard.” Horst let the sentence linger for a second, eyeing Sorin. The death of his daughter had been tragic, but the death of his parents?

”I hope Her Radiance is grateful for patriots like you.”