|
Post by Reign on Sept 22, 2017 6:44:08 GMT -8
==THE RETURN OF THE SAGE: A JVS STORY== This is a story that could start in many places. With a birth perhaps, or with a death. For it is indeed a tale of birth, life and death; of beginnings and endings, and ultimately, of rebirth. Much of this tale has been told already in other places - other universes - and so shall not be recounted here... but for one element - that one element that makes all the difference...
Em was a human replica droid manufactured by Halocroft Industries as a special custom order for a one-time Dark Lord of the Sith; Lord Reign, as he was most commonly known then. An EMP hardened phrik-alloy endoskeleton under a high-tech bio-synthetic flesh, specifically designed to blend durability with the ability to pass as an organic to all but the most advanced scanners. But the physical structure - as superb as it was aesthetic - was not what made Em unique. The AI programming was revolutionary; it's ability to morph and simulate emotion and human reaction was in some ways a new level of artificial sentience.
Em started off as a personal assistant and bodyguard, and was programmed as such. Eventually, she began to serve as an ambassador, and received further programming to match. As the years passed, Em's unique AI continued to morph and learn and grow, and so too did her role within Reign's vast enterprise, until eventually she was practically running it. It was Reign himself who first realised that in some manner Em had begun to overwrite some of her initial programming; far from fearing it, he was fascinated. He encouraged Em to choose her own destiny, even if it meant moving on from serving him. And that's when it happened... a droid able to and even given permission to overwrite her own core loyalty programming.....instead decided to double-down on it. If Reign was giving her the choice, then she chose Reign.
From that point onwards Reign treated her as one of his most trusted friends and business partners, appointing her as CEO of Reign Enterprises, and placing her on Muunilinst's governing council during his tenure as Sovereign. Her organisation complemented his vision; her powerful analytical programming complemented his uncanny intuition. And through Reign, Em learnt about a transcendent world that existed beyond the physical; a world governed only by the Force. No sensor she possessed could detect it, but she could see its physical effects, and for what she couldn't see, she had faith. Not faith in the Force; faith in Reign. And that, my friends... that is the reason this story exists at all...
|
|
|
Post by Reign on Sept 22, 2017 8:12:45 GMT -8
Nine years, two months, eleven days, one hour, thirteen minutes and six...seven...eight seconds.
It was a long time by most sentient standards. Most sentients would have mourned and moved on. But Em was not most sentients. After the death of William Reign, Em had carried out his final wishes, and then found herself quite lost. Without Reign to provide a direction - a vision - she was left to her own devices. She started simply by maintaining the status quo; she became Chancellor of Muunilinst in the aftermath of the civil war, brought order to planet and its new government, and she continued to run Reign Enterprises.
Both were full-time jobs but as a human replica droid she needed very little downtime. She did however set aside two hours every day. One of these was spent either in standby mode, or listening to music. The other was devoted to maintenance, reflection and self-improvement. She had her own personal lab staffed with her most trusted employees, who developed and maintained the various hardware and biofiber she required for maintenance and upgrades; the software updates she either developed herself, or vigourously scanned before uploading. But regardless of this, she found herself stagnating; falling into familiar routines. She began to feel more and more like any other droid and less and less like her own self-governing being. There was something lacking, and she felt it getting worse. She soon determined that it was not something she could find or fix while burdened by the routine monotony of her political and corporate roles. And thus she resigned her position as Chancellor, and pulled out all remaining loyalist forces (not many now). She sold off the mining and agricultural arms of Reign Enterprises and kept only the boutique science and technology division, which the security division was rolled into. She set up a new headquarters on Togoria, maintaining only small outposts and intelligence gathering assets in other locations, and then she set her best aide in charge of it. Em however, had a new goal. She was going bring Reign back.
It was impossible of course. Every single fiber of her logical programming rejected the idea. She didn't even have his body! But in the face of logic and analysis and programming, she had developed something that could not be explained. Faith. She knew the Force existed. She knew that certain powerful Force users had been returned from the dead in the past. She knew that people existed who would be able to reach his spirit from beyond the grave. And she also knew that An Tiarna Dubh had personally commissioned three dormant clones of William Reign. She had never known why. Even Reign had never known why. But maybe, just maybe, An Tiarna Dubh had known something - had seen something - that nobody else had. A glimpse of the future maybe? It seemed fanciful, and yet.... when you eliminated the impossible, whatever remained, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Or so she had heard once.
And so there it was; Em had set out across the galaxy with Jack and Jill by her side in order to bring together all the requisite elements needed to return William Reign to the world of life. And after years and years, she finally seemed close. She had recovered the clones, as well as a host of various other elements that she suspected she would require. She had hunted down lead after lead on the likes of Sith'ari Grizz, Bedrovelse Hevn and any other who might possibly have the skills she desired... and the willingness to use them. And finally she was on her way to the one man who seemed the most obvious choice, and yet nobody would have suspected. Barely a soul in the galaxy even knew he still lived. And certainly not where. Except now she did. And either he would help her or kill her. She certainly didn't doubt his ability to do either. But either way the end of this long journey was close at hand. And if by some miracle, Reign truly was returned, well....then a whole new journey would begin.
For a moment her analytical programming raises the possibility that he may not thank her for her efforts; that he may actually wish to stay dead. If that is the case, she thinks, then she will damn well kill him again herself. But no.... somehow she was sure that all this had been for some greater purpose than that. She may not feel the Force, but maybe the Force felt her.
In the years since she was first made, her mind had gone beyond the normal wiring and whirring of a typical droid brain. She now operated on a crystalline matrix much like that which comprised a holocron, and embedded within her was a kyber crystal attuned to Reign himself. For all she knew, maybe it wasn't the Force at all, but Reign himself! The thought amused her, but also oddly comforted her.
Em glances at the screen in front of her; the ship would arrive at its final destination in one hour fifty-seven minutes. And then...... then she would see what the future holds....
|
|
|
Post by Reign on Apr 22, 2019 0:05:53 GMT -8
One year, one month twenty-nine days.
That's almost two percent of the average human male lifespan. Suffice to say, a lot can happen in that period of time... and it did. And so sits Em a long time later, idly musing as she stares across at the man opposite her. He looked mid 30s, black hair, sharp blue eyes, concentrating intently as he stared at the screen in front of him, calculating his next move. He was dressed in a well-tailored black suit of light tactical armour, woven with shell spider silk. She had specifically told him that shell spider silk was now over-used and not nearly as cool as it was ten years ago, but he stuck with it regardless. It reminded her of a Corellian saying about not being able to teach an old dog new tricks, but seeing as now he was neither old, nor a dog, it was not relevant in this instance. And just as this thought crossed her circuits, he suddenly looked up from the screen and grinned, and it was almost identical to the very first time she had ever seen him, almost forty years earlier.
"Em, I have a lead. Mandalore. At least two confirmed sightings. And by the looks of it, Mandalore has gone through a lot of hands since I was last there…almost as many as Villa’s mum! We’ll stop at Agamar on the way; there’s a few old things there in a bunker that I need to collect. Just let me pay my respects to Jack and Jill, and then we’ll be off.”
He stands as he speaks, and flashes that quick joking grin of his as the age-old Villa quip slips out; he seems more carefree now then he had been in those last years, when he had the weight of the world (Muunilinst) and the future of the Dark Jedi Order resting on his shoulders. The great lineage of those Jen’jidai masters, from Xendor at the beginning, down through the generations to Seraph and C’thulu and finally Reign himself… he had seen the golden age, and the twilight, and it had burned him deep. It was only in the netherworld that he had come to learn and accept the truth; that all things - both great and terrible - met their end at the inexorable march of time… but that those things that were truly legendary… they would from their ashes birth the seeds of new hope.
From the various discussions they had had since his Return, she assessed that although his memory was impeccable, the emotional weight of them had been lifted; he seemed happy to wipe both his successes and failures clean and begin entirely afresh… with one very notable exception, which was the reason why they would soon be headed to Mandalore.
Just as he gets to the door, he stop and turns back and makes eye contact with Em, an earnest expression on his face that betrays no hint of his previous levity.
“Em… thanks again. I don’t know anyone who would have done what you did.”
She knows him well enough to know that he expects no reply and so she simply nods her acknowledgement before he continues out the door.
|
|
|
Post by Reign on Jan 12, 2021 5:12:25 GMT -8
Reign is sitting in the ship's lounge, leaning back in his chair, feet up on the table, rum in hand. It was an 18 year old Thyferran rum, and it brought back a lot of memories. Moreover, he simply just enjoyed the smooth taste and that mild afterburn. Delicious. He takes the moment to consider the current course of events.
Things had not gone exactly according to plan since leaving the Unknown Regions. He had been hoping to travel to Mandalore to finish some unsettled business, but on route they had been diverted by a corporate emergency. Em had, in the last few years, focused all her attention on the goal of bringing Reign back, and left Reign Enterprises in other, seemingly capable hands. Unfortunately, predators had moved in; commercial interests backed by serious military support. Reign Enterprises was not what it once was, nor were the security forces that protected it. When Reign himself had been Lord Sovereign of Muunilinst, Head of the Dark Jedi Order, and CEO of Reign Enterprises, there was no company in the galaxy that would have dared a hostile takeover… not so ten years later.
For Reign’s part, he cared little. As long as he had his ship, his personal effects, some money and some rum, he was quite content to just enjoy the galaxy with a fresh set of eyes. He had already let it all go ten years ago – he didn’t need the trappings of wealth or power. But Em had put years into maintaining it, as had Jack and Jill and many others. And there were several thousand people who were still employed by the company and relied on it. Some of them were there just for the pay check of course, and could get jobs elsewhere. But many had joined it or stayed with it because they believed in Em, or indeed in Reign himself, and sustaining his legacy. It was hard for Reign to, in all good conscience, ignore that. But nor did he want to make some triumphant return. For starters, he didn’t want to have to explain why he wasn’t dead and why he looked forty years younger. And so, he told Em he’d accompany her but that if anyone asked, he was a cousin or something. But mostly, he just wore full body armour when off the ship to avoid questions entirely.
They had since spent the two months bouncing around the galaxy, consolidating resources, assets and personnel. There had been more than one tense encounter, culminating in a fleet battle that had been little more than a Pyrrhic victory – the Pellaeon-class Star Destroyer owned by Reign Enterprises had been destroyed in the battle. However, what remained now was unencumbered, and the other corporations had lost their appetite for pursuit. It probably helped that in the last three weeks, a CEO, two COOs and a CFO had lost their lives in tragic and inexplicable accidents that could in no way be traced back to Reign and Em. Then there was that other CEO who had also been conveniently assassinated… though Reign and Em really hadn’t had anything to do with that one. So now here they were, floating in open space about half way between Togoria and Kashyyyk. They had with them what remained of the fleet, three Star Galleons full of cargo, and enough credits to buy half the casinos on Canto Bight… but pretty much all their terrestrial resources had been liquidated or destroyed. No more facilities on Togoria, no more farmland on Agamar, no more plantations or distilleries on Thyferra, and no more mines on Muunilinst. Essentially they were vagabonds, and Em was currently in the process of coming up with a plan that would…*BEEP BEEP*=Ship AI=“An emergency distress beacon has been detected on the Gamor Run north of Kashyyyk, approximately two point two light years away. Beacon indicates large cargo freighter with critically unstable hyperdrive. In accordance with Republic Law, ships within five light years are obliged to render assistance if able. Are we able?” Reign sighs. Typical; if it wasn’t one thing it’s another.“Yes, we are able. Relay it to Em and get one of the cruisers to attend.” Just another delay... Reign takes another sip of his drink and moves to turn his attention to something else when a tickling feeling runs up his spine and embeds like a splinter in the back of his mind… Oh hell. Here we go. Maybe this damn beacon was worth checking out personally“Cancel my last. Ask Em to attach two Warrior gunships to Persephone – I’m going to go check this one out personally.” Downing the last of his drink, Reign heads for the cockpit of Persephone. He still loved his old VT-49 Decimator, Banshee, but he had to admit this X-70B Phantom was a real work of art. It had elegance and speed; military hardware never looked so good. That’s not to say he wouldn’t switch back to Banshee when the repairs were finished, but he certainly wasn’t in a rush.
Arriving in the cockpit, he barely acknowledges the HK-51 Assassin Droid standing just inside the doorway. Sitting in the pilot seat is a young fresh-faced human male; he’d only been with the company for five years, but he was an exceptional pilot and could keep his mouth shut, so Em had picked him to help pilot and maintain the ship – special assignment. The kid had been thrilled; picked by Em herself! He still didn’t really know who Reign was, other than some sort of special advisor to the CEO. Reign slides into the co-pilot’s seat, and nods to him.“Alright lad, let’s get her moving as soon as the two gunships fall in behind. Don’t want to wait too long and get there just to find debris.” =Private Errands=“Yes sir! Coordinates already plotted, just in case – moving to jump vector now and awaiting atts.” Initiative. Excellent. Reign could see why Em picked him. Reign runs through a quick co-pilot check, before giving the kid a nod. Alright now… let’s go see what this is all about…
|
|
|
Post by Reign on Jan 12, 2021 5:24:36 GMT -8
Four Hours later…
Well fuck me dead if I’m not having a great time now… Reign thinks as a hail of blaster fire flies past the bulkhead he’s hiding behind. Trandoshan slavers had showed up right after he had, and the Warrior-class Gunships were now in a running battle with the slavers while they awaited reinforcements from the fleet. Hadn’t stopped several squads from boarding the freighter though, which his ship was still attached to! He glances at the slender Twi’lek hiding behind the bulkhead opposite. He could tell the moment he saw her that she was Force-sensitive, though she barely seemed aware of it. She hadn’t been all too impressed when he showed up either. Apparently, he wasn’t the help she was looking for. He wondered if this little situation would change her mind. She flashes a glance down the hallway before pulling back, then points her WESTAR 34 pistol down the hall and pulls the trigger twice without even looking. Reign hears grunts and two bodies drop. Damn but she’s either lucky or good.
“Not bad lady. But there’s a lot more of them. So you still want me to piss off, or could you actually use a hand?” She flashes a glare at him, but sighs when it is punctuated by another hail of blaster fire.
=Twi’lek=“Alright alright. Help would be good. Truth is, I hadn’t expected nearly so many. Plus I hadn’t expected them to take down my battle droids so easily…. Or disable my auto-turrets.” Expected? Reign raises an eyebrow. This Twi’lek had actually wanted the slavers to show up! Pity she didn’t have a Plan B. And Reign could tell just by looking at her she was as slaver’s wet dream – that kind of beauty wasn’t common even on Ryloth. Well, Reign to the rescue…
“Follow me, two metres behind, and pick off anyone I miss.” The pistol in Reign’s own hand spits out a handful of HE rounds down the corridor, which he immediately holsters afterwards. Lightsabers flash into each hand, and twin beams of light, one emerald and one crimson, fill the smokey corridor. Moving from cover, Reign commences an inexorable march down the corridor, lightsabers blurring as they deflect the ever-diminishing onslaught. From behind him, the Twi’lek girl fires regularly into the gaps, and Reign notes it is almost invariably one shot one kill. The last two Trandoshans break and run, yelling for reinforcements… both die quickly, one shot by the girl and the other bisected by a spinning blade that smacks back into Reign’s right hand a moment later. He glances around only a moment before looking down at the girl.
“Which way to my ship?” She looks up at him with some measure of wonder and trepidation.
=Twi’lek=“I’ve heard of Jedi with green swords, and I’ve heard of Sith with red swords. I ain’t never heard of someone with both. Who are you? What are you?” Reign smiles almost wistfully. What was he indeed? Having disbanded the Dark jedi Order, could he still lay claim to the title of Jen’jidai? Whether or not that’s what he called himself, in his heart that’s what he’d always be.
“I am something…different. Reign at your service milady. And you?” He takes a slight bow and she half laughs, half scowls at him.
=Twi’lek=“Well I ain’t no lady, but my name’s Aayla. Aayla Daru. And quickest way to your ship is this way. And if you don’t mind I’d like to catch a ride. My backup plan had been to use the hyperdrive-enabled escape pod, and blow this ship with the slavers still docked, but apparently they thought of that too. Only thing they didn’t seem to think of was you and your corvettes… though you gotta know those corvettes are outnumbered.” Already heading in the direction she had indicated, Reign barks a short laugh. So she had had a backup after all – just not a good one. The girl was good, but had a lot to learn if she wanted to go up against slavers. Reign wasn’t too fond of slavers himself; maybe he’d give her a few tips before he sent her on her way.
“The corvettes are just keeping them occupied, nothing more. Their job – and ours – is to stay alive until the star destroyer get here.” =Aayla Daru=“Star destroyer!? Who the hell you with? The Republic? First Order?” Reign laughs. Didn’t she know that in this universe every man and his dog owned at least one star destroyer? Or at least it felt that way some days… Reign would be just as happy not to own any, although he certainly didn’t mind that one would be making an imminent arrival, all things considered. He’s about to reply when they hear a mass of blaster fire from up ahead.
“We’re on a name basis now Aayla, so don’t bullshit me – are you alone on this ship?” She nods at him, looking concerned... who the hell was firing at who?
=Aayla Daru=“Yeah… and that fire sounds like it’s coming from your ship, or close to it.” Fuck. Reign begins to sprint, and even the fast agile Twi’lek has trouble keeping up. Taking the next left and then the first right, Reign enters the small hanger he landed in, and four Trandoshan bodies smoking right at the bottom of the open boarding ramp to his ship. He sprints for the ramp, leaping up it in one go with a force-assisted jump, even as he stills hears sporadic blaster fire from inside the ship. Slaver bodies are strewn through the hallways as he heads in the direction of the sounds… he hears a scream from the cockpit followed by one final shot… and arrives a second later, to see a dismembered and destroyed HK-51 assassin droid on the floor, and his pilot, Private Errands, splayed across the main console, smoke rising from his chest and a look of terror still gripping his lifeless face.
Time seems to slow for Reign, and as the two remaining slavers turn at the sound of his arrival and raise their blasters, it’s as if they’re in slow motion. Their blasters are ripped from their hands by an unseen force, and it seems like gravity suddenly increases a hundredfold, as they are both simultaneously dragged to the ground. Reign grits his teeth.
“You vermin just killed a very good pilot. I’ve never liked slavers, I’ve never liked wasting talent, and I’ve never liked people taking what is mine. You just sentenced your entire clan to die, though you won’t be around to see it.” Aayla arrives in the doorway behind him just as he finishes talking. Next thing she sees are the two slavers suddenly clasping their throats as if choking. It seems to slowly intensify, until finally a cracking noise is heard as their necks miraculously snap. She looks from them to Reign and back again. She had been prepared to take on these slavers all by herself if that was what it took to get her little sister back, but this guy… was next level. He scared the shit out of her but he also fascinated her… and by the sounds of it, they now shared a goal. Assuming he didn’t end up blaming her for all this and end her right here.
=Aayla Daru=“I’m sorry about your friend Reign. I didn’t mean to bring anyone else into this… I’m just desperate to get my sister back. She earnt a scholarship to the University of Garos… first one in our family. She was on her way there when they intercepted her ship. I’ve spent my life savings and then some trying to get her back, and burnt through every favour I had just to get this far. But I didn’t want anyone else to suffer the way my family is. Please… I will give you anything – everything – I have, but please help me get her back and get her to Garos IV.” Aayla’s desperation is clear, and her emotions echo through the force like a beacon. Reign can tell she’s a proud woman, but that she is willing to sacrifice that pride, and her dignity, if it means her sister’s safety. He respects her loyalty to her sister, although the notion that he would ever… use such a situation in that way is distinctly distasteful.
“Aayla. You have my word. All I ask in return is... you take over as my pilot until I find a better one. I think you already owe me that much.” Aayla stares at him almost incredulously for several seconds, waiting for the credit to drop, but after a long moment she realises he is actually serious. What an odd man. She finally nods.
=Aayla Daru=“Deal. Although I’m a pretty good pilot so you might be getting more out of this bargain than you think.” Reign laughs in spite of himself, and the situation. Confident woman.
“So be it.” That moment, his commlink sounds, and he presses the button to answer.
::You just can’t stay out of trouble can you? We have arrived, and we’re mopping them up now, although it’s likely one or two will get away, since we don't have a grav trap and we only have so many tractor beams. What’s your situation?:: Reign looks at Aayla as he replies.
“All good here Em. Let a few get away, and then see if you can track them. I have a promise to keep.”
|
|
|
Post by Reign on Jan 13, 2021 6:47:48 GMT -8
It had taken a little longer than expected, but they were finally in position to finish it. The slavers’ various bases of operations had been tracked down, their security and movements mapped out, and any potential government interference deconflicted. And hadn’t that been some doing… typical bureaucracy – they didn’t take necessary action to eliminate these filth, but when someone else wanted to do it, suddenly it was a problem. Thankfully, the Force can have a strong influence on the weak minded. As can money, power, and the threat of a painful death. By Xendor, Reign hated bureaucrats. Some of them served a meaningful purpose of course, but… no matter. The time had come. Five raids would be occurring simultaneously; the largest would be here, at their headquarters. Em was overseeing the whole operation from Kharsus, and Reign had been given command of this task-force.
He chuckles again at the memory of the incredulous Major who was shocked that Em would choose some random drifter she’d picked up in the Unknown Regions, over someone who had served her and the company faithfully for ten years. And Reign himself would have been more than happy to defer command to the Major, if it were not crucial that he be unimpeded once the assault began. Thankfully, the ruffled feathers had been smoothed over by some quick and diplomatic reassurances, not only from Em but from the Fleet Commander, Commodore Gawain Stormhawk. Now that man… Reign was surprised he hadn’t been sprung already, even with the helmet on. Stormhawk was actually distantly related, ironically enough, and his mentor had been Reign’s own dear Fleet Commander, Admiral Hunt. But the legendary tactician had passed away a few years back, and now Gawain was in charge. Em had made good choices in his absence.
Turning his attention back to the compound, he waits for H-Hour. Only a few minutes now. Two TX-130T fighter tanks would engage the front entrance and a platoon of shock troopers. Once they were drawn out, a direct fire support section would engage them from the flank, keeping them pinned down. And Reign? His team would enter from the rear and clear out the main structure and slave holding cells. And what a crew that was – Em had given him a section of Togorian Shadow Legionnaires and a four-man fire team that felt even more slighted than the aforementioned Major. Apparently they served as Em’s ‘Aegis’ and when not protecting her (protecting her! Ha!), conducted special assignments for her. Apparently, they didn’t think taking orders from their ‘competition’ counted as a ‘special assignment’. Reign smiles inwardly… it made sense from their point of view, sure. This guy shows up with Em from the Unknown Regions and then never seems to leave her side. What else could he be but a bodyguard? Guess they were about to find out…
Last but not least, Reign’s new pilot crouched next to him. The flicker of emotions that played across her face, from determination to eagerness to trepidation… he’d have to teach her to control that better. Aayla Daru had proved to be something of a diamond in the rough. When she said she was a pretty good pilot… by the terms of their agreement, she was stuck with him until he found a better one, and he hadn’t seen a pilot that good in… well, a long time. And she was better with a pistol than Reign too, which not many people could say either. A diamond indeed.
A single barely audible tone indicates the one-minute warning. No one moves an inch – no last minute check of gear or re-positioning; these were true professionals – their gear had already been checked a dozen times, and they were already arrayed in the appropriate formation. Reign had already delivered his orders, which had gone a long way to soothing frayed egos – they had been clear and concise; enough detail to maximise understanding without overdoing it and removing opportunity for initiative.
H-HOUR
The night lights up, with the sound of missiles hitting the compound’s front gate washing over them a second later. The sounds of battle slowly intensify as slavers and guards pour out to engage the threat, though already there is pandemonium and confusion; these were slavers, not soldiers. They didn’t expect to be contacted at 0400 by armour and infantry… and when they get lit up from the left flank by heavy support weapons, their morale plummets. But Trandoshans are hunters by nature, and good ones. They don’t give up easy. Several E-web heavy repeating blasters open up from fortified locations on the roof – they are rapidly engaged in return by counter fire. And in all the fire and smoke and confusion, only one Trandoshan seems to notice the dark figures that have breached the rear perimeter fence… and he dies silently as a razor-sharp discblade emerges from the dark at high speed to sever his throat.
They breach the back door with small shaped charges, and a Togorian fire team enters first. On a primal level, the feline Togorians get a thrill from hunting lizards… particularly tough ones. It just made the hunt more worthwhile. Besides, Togorians, as a general rule, abhorred slavery. Team One goes left, Team Two goes right – Reign, Aayla and Aegis go straight up the middle. The few remaining defenders still inside the building are taken completely by surprise and they are well into the facility before any kind of coordinated defence is mounted. Reign himself relies mostly on his pistol and his discblade, so as not to draw to much attention, but eventually they start to get bogged down near the entrance to the central slave pens, where the most treasured slaves are housed. And suddenly the tides turn entirely.
Team One begins to fall back…radio chatter explodes... “Casualty!” “Sithspit! It’s a...” “Fall back! All units fall...” “Branch Plan Gamma!” ...the radio chatter ceases. Aayla looks at Reign - Branch Plan Gamma – insurmountable internal defences requiring evacuation and tactical missile strike. High chance of significant collateral damage. Damn… and then Reign feels it. A presence in the Force. The fact that he hadn’t felt it before meant two things; firstly that they were hiding themselves, and secondly; that Reign himself was well out of practice. His ability to Sense was one of his best, normally. But there was a darksider in here and he had just torn through a Togorian tactical fire team. What’s more, he was getting closer, quickly.
“Aegis, hold the front at all costs. Aayla assist. Team Two, fall back to this loc ASAP, using the southern corridor. Do NOT circle east.”
Reign turns to the rear to face the eastern corridor that intersects with his, about five metres ahead of him. He watches impassively as a heavily-armoured Trandoshan holding a crimson greatsaber rounds the corner. Interesting. As far as Reign was aware, Force-sensitive Trandoshan were extremely rare. Reign doubted this one was a fully-fledged Sith, or their operation would be more extensive and influential, but he was clearly dangerous nonetheless. He hears some muted swearing behind him at the sight; these men knew enough to know they were in trouble – or would be, if Reign wasn’t there.
The brute comes on and the lightclub cleaves down quickly upon him, but he just as quickly deflects it away with his discblade. The Trandoshan is surprised. Even more so when Reign puts his pistol and discblade away and gestures the brute on with his empty hands. As he speaks, Reign opens fully his connection to the Force, and it flows through him like a torrent, calm streams and torrent rapids of universal energy swirling within – his to command.
“I see now you are the architect of this enterprise, and in so doing also the architect of your own destruction. I speak not to parley, but so that the last thing you hear before your miserable soul leaves this mortal coil is my voice.”
There is an incredulous pause followed by a deafening roar of rage as the Trandoshan attacks again, two hands on the hilt as he slashes across, only for Reign’s fist to intercept the blade. A shimmering shield of energy surrounds both of his now clenched fists; a testament to his mastery of his craft. This was Hammerstrike, the ability that Reign himself had painstakingly developed and mastered, and taught only to two others, his most worthy apprentices. Shocked, the brute swings again. This time, Reign ducks away from it, darting in after the wild swing and throwing his fist forward towards the armoured chestplate of his opponent. An explosion of force is released on contact, the plate buckling like paper even as the brute is hurled back down the corridor. He lands over ten feet away, groaning in stunned pain. No doubt some broken ribs there, but that is not nearly enough to finish a sturdy Trandoshan. But Reign doesn’t wait for him to rise. He strikes over, using telekinesis to seize the blade right from the half-stunned fool’s own hand.
“May your enemies be waiting for you, as mine were.”
A flash of the blade severs the head, and the hilt is dropped on the corpse a moment later. That opponent could have been a lot more dangerous, if he had been less surprised and a little smarter. Fool indeed. Turning back to the fight, Reign can tell immediately that the loss of their leader has had a terminating influence on the enemy’s will to fight. Excellent. Re-drawing his pistol, he begins to empty his clip of HE rounds down the corridor as he marches forward.
“On me. Let’s finish this.”
And finish it they do.
One Hour later…
The compound had been fully secured now, and the slaves liberated. They had also begun to ‘liberate’ a significant stockpile of credits, rare metals and other items that would go well towards supporting the cost of this whole effort. Aayla had been reunited with her younger sister, Navara. The Twi’lek girl was traumatised, but it seemed she had so far been spared the worst sins of slavery. Thank Xendor for small mercies. All in all, this whole campaign was pretty well wrapped up. Except for this.
Reign stands alone in a dimly lit chamber staring up at a hulking near-human figure in stasis. From experience, Reign guessed him to be a heavy-gravity worlder… maybe Ragithian. Still injured too; if this were a slave, he sure hadn’t gone down without fighting. What’s more, Reign could sense the man was Force-sensitive, despite his condition. And then he saw it. A discblade. Very different from his own; almost rudimentary by comparison. But they were so rare that it could only mean one thing. This was a Zeison Sha from Yanibar.
::Get me a medical team asap::
|
|
|
Post by Reign on Jan 15, 2021 1:03:11 GMT -8
Reign leaves the ship’s primary medical centre, heading for the bridge to rendezvous with Em. He ignores the stares he gets from crew as he passes them. It had been happening for two days now, and the rumour mill was going wild. The leading theory at the moment was that he was the secret son of William Reign, who had been hidden away in the unknown regions undergoing some super-secret training. Some suggested he was just a force-sensitive Epicanthix who Em had enlisted as an enforcer. Others thought he may have been a former Jen’jidai who survived the Order’s dissolution and now looked to rebuild it using Reign’s resources. There was even one whispered suggestion he was a clone… technically true… from a certain point of view.
But it seemed that, by and large - regardless of the theory - he had earned some measure of respect. And now Em had asked him to join in the senior leadership conference, which normally consisted of Em, Gawain, The COO, the CFO, and Ba’shara Khan, daughter of his old friend Bashere. He could still remember attending Ba’shara’s graduation ceremony on Togoria, many years ago. Now she led Reign Enterprises’ ground forces. The new COO and CFO, Reign had not met yet. But it would be an interesting meeting no doubt… just like the one he was coming from.
The Zeison Sha he’d discovered was still in the medical centre, but recovering quickly. And Reign had been right; he was Ragithian. At just over seven feet, the hulking giant – Harkan Rao - was over 300 pounds of muscle. He’d had an interesting life too; he had grown up with his mother on Yanibar, and once identified as force-sensitive been taken in for training at Sha Kalan. But he had wanted more from life than to just live and die on Yanibar… and Reign could understand that – he knew from experience that it was not exactly a hospitable world. He’d taken a contract working on a cargo freighter as an apprentice mechanic, and doubled as security after the ship’s captain discovered just how handy he was in a fight. He worked with them for a year before falling for a girl on Nar Shaddaa. Big mistake that – she’d been a setup, taking all his credits and getting him massively in debt. He’d ended up in an underground fighting ring to pay them off, using his spare time to organise some payback. The girl worked for one of the ring leaders, so Harkan had scoped out his home and raided it the night he left town, taking a bucketload of credits. He’d travelled from world to world after that, exploring and taking odd jobs, never staying in one place too long… until he met another girl. He was wary at first but she had been the real deal. They had fallen in love. Unfortunately, it did not last long.
Turns out the Trandoshan slavers Reign had just taken down were in business with the group on Nar Shaddaa. Harkan had finally been tracked down, and a bloody fight ensued. Harkan was beaten bloody, his new girlfriend killed, and Reign had by mere chance intercepted him between his capture and his transport back to Nar Shaddaa. Which means Reign now had a new problem to worry about. Harkan had no idea just how extensive the network was, and Reign didn’t like not knowing what he was dealing with. Regardless, Reign had just agreed to help resolve this issue permanently, and Harkan had sworn he would repay the debt, on his life if necessary.
Arriving at the command conference room, Reign strides in to the muttering of the two civilians, an appraising glance from Ba’shara and a speculating stare from Gawain. Deciding to just get this over with, once and for all, he removes his helmet and sets it down on the table. Ba’shara gasps and Gawain nods almost as if he suspected it. The two civilians show no recognition at all. “Alright. As simple as I can make this… I’m Reign. Ten years ago, I died. Now I have been miraculously reborn, through the power of the Force and the help of some old friends.” Here, Reign glances to Em with a look of shared understanding, and sees the disbelieving looks of the two civilians. “You can choose to believe this, or not. I honestly don’t care. I left most of my cares behind in death. As far as I am concerned, Em remains the CEO – nothing need change. But she has expressly requested I take a role on this council, and I intend to honour that request. Now more importantly, how is my clan-daughter?” Ba’shara leaps forward to pull Reign into a bear hug… or cat hug, to be more specific. Reign’s breath is forced from his lungs at the strength of it; although Togorian females were not typically as strong or large as the males, she was still two metres tall and muscular. In Togorian society, when a child was born, an elder within the same clan might be nominated as their honourary clan-father. Bashere had picked Reign for Ba’shara. It had been, and remained, a great honour. Once she lets him go, she ruffles his hair and steps back. =Ba’shara=“Good to see you clan-father. I am well. With your permission, I must share this news with the others. Those of us who have remained did so partly out of loyalty, but also because this was all we knew. Ten years have dwindled our numbers and morale, with some talking of returning home to Togoria. With you returned, you may yet find more arriving instead.” Smiling her toothy grin, Ba’shara moves to depart, only to be stopped by Em. =Em=“Of course, Shara, but after. We still need to discuss our next steps. No have no real base of operations left, and although we have plenty of money and cargo, our prospects diminish by the day. We need to refuel, re-group, and find somewhere establish some terrestrial holdings. But before we begin… Reign, these are Hector Pike, the company’s Chief Operations Officer, and Adam Smith, the Chief Financial Officer. Gentlemen, William Reign, former Lord Sovereign of Muunilinst and Agamar, former Master of the Dark Jedi Order, Big Wheel of the Vegemite Sith Enclave, Founding Member of the Xendorian Guard, and my friend.” The two gentlemen find the whole concept hard to believe, but hard to question when everyone else in the room has taken it at face value. And they had heard many stories about Reign over the years, of course, including most of the titles. In the early days, that name had had capital. Nowadays, it didn’t seem like too many people knew it at all, and those who did didn’t care.
For Adam Smith, he didn’t care who this was, just as long it could be leveraged into a better bottom line. He wanted to be one of the most successful accountants of all time; not the one who oversaw the financial collapse of a company that had once controlled the mines of Muunilinst. In his mind, he is already going over ideas for how this new information could be incorporated into their next move.
For Hector Pike, he saw this more as a threat than an opportunity. He had painstakingly risen to the number two corporate spot over ten years, including overseeing operations while Em had been off on her stupid missions. And now those self-same missions had resulted in the return of a man who pushed Hector further down the pecking order. In Hector’s mind, it was coming up time for a new company name, with someone new at the helm. Reign could derail plans he’d spent the last five years working on. Em, though incredibly dangerous, was a known quantity. No matter how advanced she was, she was, at the end of the day, a droid. Honestly, Hector didn’t know why more people weren’t upset about that. But Reign… Reign was unpredictable. Of course, none of this shows on his face – he is the consummate actor. =Hector=“Welcome back William. A surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one.” =Adam=“Yes yes, indeed. Welcome. I think this presents us with some new opportunities; perhaps even a return to Muunilinst. It would be the perfect base of operations would it not?” Reign just fractionally grimaces. “A pleasure gentlemen. Call me Reign. And if the company so desires to return to Muunilinst, it will do so without me. I believe it is controlled by the First Order now, who will not relinquish it willingly. Nor did I return to the living merely to languish in the ashes of what I left behind. That said, it is your decision.” Adam looks marginally contrite, while Hector nods along…but inside Hector is seething. Already Reign was looking assert his influence, and no doubt Em, Gawain and that female furball would go along with it. When Hector controlled the company, it would be humans and near humans only, with Epicanthix at the top, as it should be. They were, after all, a culturally and physically superior branch of evolution. =Em=“I agree. We are in no position to take on the First Order. We need opportunities, not enemies. Gawain, your thoughts?” Gawain had been silent this whole time, and he takes another moment to think before replying. =Gawain=“Agreed. And welcome back Lord Reign. It is good to see you alive and well.” He reaches out to tap a console on the desk, and it projects a map of their location in open space and the surrounding sectors and trade routes. =Gawain=“We are currently here, not too far from Togoria. We need fuel and food resupplies. Roche is good for fuel but not food. Taanab is good for food, but fuel would be at a premium there due to recent supply shortages. Contruum has both. It’s probably the best option in any of the nearby sectors." Adam and Hector both express agreement, but the other two seem to be watching Reign, who is studying the projection intently. After a long moment, he points to a system a little bit further away, towards Mandalore. “What about Garos IV? It’s a little bit further out, but it’s also more remote – we’ll draw less attention, which right now sounds like what you need. Contruum is practically the Corellia of the Mid Rim. Garos have food, fuel, mining and – as it so happens – I need to go there anyway. I could take an advance party there to negotiate terms, which might be nicer than just showing up unannounced with a military-grade fleet. Thoughts?” You undermining son of a bitch, was Hector’s thought. Thankfully not expressed aloud, as Hector had already heard the rumours of what happened during the raid. Regardless of his disdain for it, the Force was real, and Reign could obviously use it. Thankfully for Hector, he seemed to have inherited the Epicanthix racial trait that protected him from mind reading or mental influence.
Adam was also rather ambivalent about the idea. They needed to go to a world with money and influence and build connections, not flee to some backwater. Yes, Reign Enterprises was presently in a precarious position, but bold moves would pay dividends. He didn’t want to rot in obscurity.
Unfortunately for those two, the other three in the room all saw the strategic sense of what Reign was saying, and voiced their agreement. =Em=“Alright then. Garos IV it is. Gawain, prepare the fleet. I’ll take a transport, two gunships, Reign and Adam, and see what we can’t work out before you get there. Give us a week. Any questions? Thank you all. Meeting adjourned.” Em, Reign and Gawain linger as the other three leave, Ba’shara giving Reign an affectionate pat on the shoulder as she departs. Gawain holds his hand out to Reign, who shakes it and smiles at the man. “I look at you and I think of old Hunt. From what I hear, he’d be proud of you.” Gawain returns a bittersweet, wistful smile, thinking about his old mentor. Then he gets serious. =Gawain=“He was. Not sure he was of you though, in the end. He never understood why you did what you did. I know you had your reasons, but I don’t get it either. When you disbanded the Dark Jedi Order, the chaos didn’t stop; it spread. And everyone who was dedicated to you felt abandoned. So let me just say this; Hunt loved you, and I looked up to you. You were my idol. What’s more, you’re family of sorts – third cousin once removed if I recall correctly. But if you not planning to stick around, don’t stay at all. Don’t give these people hope just to take it away again.” After a solemn pause, Gawain releases Reign’s hand, gives a small bow and walks out, leaving Reign with some serious thoughts to consider. He hadn’t wanted all these trappings back, but by chance and circumstance he seemed to be falling back into it. It needed some serious consideration, for Gawain was right. Either he left now, or he stayed for the long haul. Maybe this wouldn’t be as much of a retirement as he thought. Ah well… he’d probably have got bored anyway.
He looks at Em, who is staring at him almost knowingly. “Yeah yeah. I guess I’ll be sticking around longer than I thought. But I still need to follow up that lead on Mandalore. Some obligations cannot be ignored… like this one, I suppose. C’mon, let’s go.”
|
|
|
Post by Reign on Dec 15, 2021 6:51:31 GMT -8
Three months later...
=Em= “So we are agreed then?”
Reign looks from Em and Gawain sitting next to him to the three Garosian representatives sitting across the table. Flanking Chairman Winger was High Commissioner Jihan and Councillor Mays. Over the past few months of negotiations he had got to know all three of them reasonably well; they were highly capable leaders who clearly wanted the best for Garos IV, and had so far dealt in good faith. It honestly surprised Reign to find such capable well-intentioned people in charge –all too often in politics it was the clever scum that rose to the surface through cutthroat political manoeuvring. But these three… Chairman Winger was a local legend and war hero of course – that kind of political capital can’t be bought. High Commissioner Jihan was tough on crime, but fair, and had managed to negotiate (or intimidate) a sustained détente with neighbouring Sundari. And Councillor Mays, while a charming and consummate politician, seemed to genuinely have good intentions. It was a rare combination that had made for pleasant, albeit vigorous negotiations. And now they were down to the pointy end. Finally.
=Chairman Winger= “I believe we are. But let’s just run through the key points shall we?
Reign Enterprises will build its new corporate headquarters in Garan at its own expense, but on land granted by the Garosian government. In Ariana, Reign Entperises will establish an embassy at its own expense, but again on granted land. Specifically, the condemned Imperial garrison building overlooking Locura.
Reign Enterprises will invest in new mining and agricultural enterprises to stimulate the Garosian economy.
Reign Enterprises will immediately and permanently transfer fifteen percent ownership of the company to the Garosian government.
Reign Enterprises ground security forces may be deputised temporarily by High Commissioner Jihan in the event of terrorist attacks, civil unrest or to support planetary defence. Outside of this, Reign ground forces will have no formal authority outside of company-owned premises. While deputised, your General will hold the rank of Commissioner, to maintain an appropriate chain of command.
Reign Enterprises fleet, in addition to supporting your commercial activities, will maintain the Garos-Sundari Armistice, and support Garos System defence. For matters relating to Garosian security and sovereignty, your Admiral, Gawain, will hold the rank of Commissioner and report directly to the High Commissioner. We do acknowledge here that your fleet outweighs our own, so it makes sense to retain them on active duty, but ensure an appropriate chain of command. The fleet will be paid a reasonable monthly fee for services rendered.
In return, we will cede to Reign Enterprises one permanent seat on the Committee of Seven, to be assumed on the imminent retirement of Councillor Lahaki. We will grant Reign Enterprises the former Imperial mining base near Mount Usca and all associated licences, as well as a graduated taxation discount of fifteen percent that will decrease by three percent per annum over five years. We will also grant all current Reign Enterprises personnel Garosian citizenship, with all the relevant rights and responsibilities that entails. Any future personnel will need to follow the normal sponsorship process. We do expect and encourage that your hiring practices will suitably support local jobs, where possible.
We also understand you have undertaken some negotiations with the Sundari, and they have agreed to provide you with first right of refusal for their ore transport contracts, in return for access to agricultural products from Garos IV, as well as ensuring the Armistice isn’t breached by us. We have no issue with this, and honestly, it is a relief to have an independent party help us enforce it."
The Chairman pauses now and glances across at Reign before continuing. Reign already knows what was coming, and while to some, it had been a controversial condition, he personally didn't care, even though everyone seemed to think that he would.
=Chairman Winger= "Lastly, Reign Enterprises will transition to a new trading name that doesn't carry all the...encumbrances of the old name. While we have great respect for the former Lord Sovereign of Muunilinst and leader of the Dark Jedi Order, we simply don't wish to draw that kind of attention here. We want to be prosperous, yes, and we acknowledge your history, but we want this to be the start of a new partnership, and a name which represents that.
And... I think that about covers the major details?”
Em nods. Like Reign, she didn't contest the last point, although she knew that many of their people had. But overall, this was a really good deal, and a fresh start for them all. The lawyers would have to take some time to finish locking down all the specific wording, but that essentially covered the key points. It was amazing that they had been able to reach such a detailed and comprehensive agreement in only three months – a testament to those involved and the level of trust that had already been developed. The mere presence of Reign Enterprises these last few months had already injected significant funds into the local economy, so in truth the government was pretty eager to keep them there; they just didn’t want to cede their sovereignty to do it. Garosians were a proud and self-reliant people who had had enough of foreign governments. They weren’t isolationist by any means; they just valued self-determination. And so they would have it... but with a Reign Enterprises selected Councillor on the ruling Committee of Seven. Thus, Reign Enterprises would at least get a voice at the ruling table. And considering the financial and military backing they were supplying, it was one of the key deal breakers that had been keenly debated by both sides.
=Em= “Excellent. And though not quite official yet, let me say we are so pleased to call Garos our new home.”
Em glances at Reign then, giving him an opening to speak. He nods in return and turns his charming smile upon those across the table. For all that he had not really planned to get involved in all this, he had ended up one of the key negotiators, and if being honest he found himself liking these people and this planet far more than he thought he would. His initial motivation for visiting Garos IV had merely been keeping his promise, and ensuring Aayla's sister Navara reached the University of Garos. Promise kept. What he hadn't expected was that they'd be sticking around this long, and certainly not making it a new home. He hadn't even been to Mandalore yet, and he knew he couldn't delay that forever, but once he started down this path he wanted to see it finished. And getting this deal signed was really just the beginning. But he was getting ahead of himself...
“Indeed! I for one look forward to a prosperous and enduring partnership. This is the start of a new chapter for us all, and I sincerely thank each of you, your government and the people of Garos IV for the opportunity presented. I know there is a dissident minority that disapprove of what we’re doing here, and I understand that – you are a proud and independent people. But I think in time they will see the benefit of what we have agreed here, for both this and future generations. We stand on the right side of history. So let us toast!”
With some small sleight of hand Reign seems to miraculously produce a bottle of his finest rum, and pours some for each. He then pushes the bottle across to the High Commissioner (who he knows is particularly partial) and raises his glass.
“To Garos IV!”
“To Garos IV!”
As the meeting adjourns, a modicum of small talk endures, and it is half an hour later before Reign, Em and Gawain are alone in their transport headed back up to Kharsus. Once there, they would debrief the senior leadership team, who were all eagerly awaiting the final confirmation. All had been involved in the negotiations to varying degrees, from Adam Smith working the figures and negotiating trade details to Hector Pike working through legal details. It was a funny thing really – three months ago they had only really planned to regroup, refuel and stock up here. But when they had arrived, both sides had quickly seen an opportunity for something more… something greater. For Reign Enterprises (as it would still be called until the new name was selected), a company that had specialised in mining and agriculture over the years, here was a planet whose two major industries just happened to align. And for Garos IV, a way to stimulate their economy and secure greater peace and prosperity, but without relinquishing their sovereignty. And now the thousands of people who served Reign Enterprises were on the cusp of something they had not truly had in years, since the fall of Muunilinst; a real home.
|
|