Eralam's Explosives Emporium

The fallen Whill tried to give Sin a one-armed hug. He had never been good at those sorts of gestures, and the holoshroud did nothing to reduce the level of awkwardness. Still, it's the thought that counts.

"Does it count as kidnapping if it's completely by accident? I'd ask a lawyer, but dealing with one being made of pure evil in a week is my quota, and I filled that a few days ago. At any rate, we'll keep the fact that you have breasts our little secret. The Dark Tide needs never know."

Despite his cheerful tone, Eralam wasn't exactly all smiles on the inside. He would miss this, and his Sith friend, insomuch as anyone can miss anything while dead. And despite her hidden Force signature, her own discontent with the situation was readily apparent.

"The meeting is pretty simple. I've got one last caper to set up. One last stab at keeping things balanced. So I've got all the elements I'll need down there, waiting to find out what I need them to do."

He shrugged and took a step back, lest another elbow decided to get any ideas.

"You guys are useful. And you've got better taste in booze. Ever tried to drink at a Jedi party? No? That's because they don't have them. And if they did, they'd probably stock the cooler with light beer."

Right about now, the elevator finally dropped past the bedrock and into the cavernous...cavern, really, that made up room AA20. The former Shard took one last longing look at the bits of the breasts on display, and the woman bearing them. The near psychotic lust for the things that seemed to infect most mammalian males was all starting to make sense. It was tempting to find a pretense to cop a feel, but he got the distinct impression that not even temporary immortality could save him if he tried.

Dresden couldn't help but marvel at the dichotomy between the Sith woman in the elevator with him and the Fallanassi woman down below. Both were powerful in their own right, with one being perhaps the single most powerful Sith out there and the other a master of illusion, a true artist in a galaxy of amateurs. Both were savage fighters as well, both were beautiful (in vastly different ways, perhaps,) and both were capable of extreme cruelty when the mood hit. But that was about where the similarities ended.

The Major, Riplian was all ice. Logic and reason, however obscure they might seem to the outside world, ruled her life. Sure, she had all sorts of inner turmoil, but it was hidden so deeply behind so many barriers that even she likely didn't know everything that was down there. The former Shard had been able to get glimpses of the real person behind the armor. What he had found was twisted to the extreme, warped by hardships that the average person couldn't begin to fathom. There was a sort of beauty there, and a supple strength that allowed her to bend to nearly any situation without breaking. Her strength was also her weakness. It was all directed outwardly. Force her to examine her own self, and she would crack.

Sinistra was, in many ways, the polar opposite, at least around Eralam. She had just as much armor and ice around her colleagues, and with good reason. But here, there were no pretenses. There was a smoldering sensuality about her that was more than just skin deep. Like most Sith, she had a ready store of emotion on tap, along with the willingness to use it for whatever ends she deemed necessary. He doubted, however, that she trotted out the easy humor and flirtatiousness around her closest frenemies back on Kuat. Get her away from them, and she was all fire and fun.

It would be interesting to see the two meet. Fire and ice traditionally don't coexist well together, and if the temperatures are far enough removed, the results are often explosive.

It didn't take long for the elevator to cover the last 100 meters to the floor. Dresden gathered himself, banishing all signs of fatigue to a little box in the back of his mind. He'd definitely be grateful to have a drinking buddy around after the meeting.

"Ok, it's showtime. For the record, I go by Dresden these days. New face, new name. What am I to call you?"

The minute he saw Major's reaction, he knew something was going to go horribly wrong. It wasn't obvious, and if he hadn't spent the last few days highly attuned to her minutiae, he wouldn't have picked it up. But he had, and picked up the signs. The appearance of "Vera" had not pleased her in the slightest. Come to think of it, Koko didn't seem too pleased with her either. She had given the newcomer that woman's once-over that made a judgment based off of thousands of things that no guy would ever bother to notice, and from the looks of things, she hadn't met the standard. There would be hell to pay later.

But first, there was the meeting. Deadniquitous was nowhere to be seen, but he was a Force ghost, so that didn't necessarily mean anything. Caed was high, Major was pissed, Race was scared, and Sinistra was red. Hell of a way to start.



"Ladies, gentlemen, and Caed, thank you all for coming. We've got a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it, so let's get down to business. We are going to be fabricating a war. The reasons for doing so are my own, but your reasons for sticking around will probably be profit and fun. You weren't brought here today because of your kind, altruistic natures.

"Our target is Adarlon," he said, and a hologram of the world appeared in the center of the room. "It's a wealthy, peaceful world, a center of civilization and culture in the otherwise uncivilized Outer Rim. We're going to fix that."

The hologram changed to video footage of Diva tearing through a platoon-sized element of soldiers.

"Folks, I'd like you to meet Diva. She's not here today, and for good reason. There have been a handful of beings throughout history that could give me a run for my money in a fight, and she's one of them. When she gets hungry, planets die. Horribly. And here in the next few weeks, she's going to hit Adarlon. Estimated casualties will be in the 1-2 million range. This is our catalyst.

"Caed, you will be inserted first. In the weeks leading up to the attack, you will be responsible for the assassination of key government officials for the purpose of destabilizing the planetary government. Those that can't be outright killed will be otherwise discredited by our incorporeal friend.

"After the initial feeding frenzy, Major will land a force to 'chase off' the Queen Bitch. Taking control of the government will be simple from there. All she really has to do is establish her usual...policies, and the stage will be set for the next phase. Race, this is where you come in. You'll be inserted not long after Caed and Inky. You'll make friends, be a neighbor, generally earn their trust. Once Major's folks take over, you'll be the one responsible for starting the insurgency against them. Between your knowledge of explosives and ability to be almost charming when the need arises, you should be able to get one going pretty easily. In fact, I'd say Major is going to do the majority of the work for you. A lot of the natives are of Alderaanian descent. They're gentle, peaceful people with strong notions of right and wrong. Start spouting off about Truth, Justice, and the Adarlonian way of life, and they'll be eating out of your hands.

"So, to recap, phase 1 will be the setup and initial attack. Phase 2 will be the takeover, and Phase 3 will be the insurgency. Phases one and two should take about a month each. Phase three will take three to four months. After that is where things get tricky. I'll be coordinating behind the scenes, probably under a few different identities. When the time comes for the final phase, I'll let you know and bring your assignments.

"Now, on to the matter of profit. Each of you will have 1,000,000 credits held in escrow by Dressel's bank. That will be yours to collect upon completion of the mission. Any supplies you might need will also be provided, as well as any seed money you'll require. You're free to hang on to anything you don't use. Also, you're free to turn a profit on the ground however you like.

"Are there any questions?"

A lot had happened since last we saw our intrepid Force Ghost. He floated. Or fell. Folded? Maybe he just....appeared. He still wasn't entirely sure. His body felt odd flowing....yes, flowing, through the floor, the stone, the sediment, the fossils....fossils? Sure. The Force was a fickle thing, and having him suddenly come back as a Dark Side ghost was just...well, Irony really. NOt that Alanis Morrissette would know....."It's like Raaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnn.....On your wedding day when you specifically picked this location because it never rains!!". Jewsus, get it right you stupid bi-where was I? Right. He floated directly into the middle of the table. He was still trying to get the hand of this 'going through shit' business.....He opened what were considered eyes and looked around at every one present, his eyes lingering a second or two on the togrutga, then focusing on "Dresden'

"You look like shit."

He looked around once more at everyone then spoke. Or talked. Maybe his voice was everywhere and nowhere or sometime and no when. Either way, he could be heard. What was it to be heard really? Sound vibrating the little membranes inside the ear canal....Unless you heard through sight in which case...Shit son, show me how? He shook his head and re-focused.....

"I am.....well, I am dead actually. So you may refer to me as Deadniquitous. It seems fitting. Not that anything fits anymore. "

He turned back to 'Dresden' and grinned.

"What do you need me to do?"