Coromon Islands

[Incom Headquarters, Public Sales Office.]

There was a slight squeak-squeak as one of the headquarters' older maintenance droids moved back and forth across the darkened, nighttime offices, and a sucking sound as he vacuumed the thick shag carpets, as he had done for every day of his long artificial life since his creation a few miles away at the Incom assembly plant. But on this night, the droid was making his rounds for the last time, or at least the last consecutive time. He didn't know it yet, but the phantom squeaking sound was a sign of something larger. As he rounded one of the reception desks, there was a pop, and one of his three wheels came off. The droid screeched as he pinwheeled across the room, and impacted with the side wall. A heavy transparisteel picture frame, jostled loose from the wall, dropped as if from the sky, and shattered against the droid. There was a crunch, and sparks flew in all directions, punctuated by a final, blue-green explosion that lit the room as clear as day, as the droid's motivator failed. The short circuit created by the failure traveled straight to the onboard battery, which caused a massive explosion. Droid circuits were tossed all over the nice clean office, and the room filled up with smoke.

Kael Quincy stood on the observation deck of the Kossak-class frigate as it descended to Fresia's surface, bearing witness to the mass egress of his family - the Quincy's. Five hundred of his kinsmen had gathered together, only a few of the some ten thousand total members - of that number ten distinct clans, each numbering a thousand. These were the loyalists - those who rebelled against the radical Sylvia Silver's directives - they had no love for the Empire, and, by extension, no love for this newer power, this rumored "First Order". So they had traveled away from Sylvia - who would claim that they had ran - to a more suitable locale.

And, in fairness, it WAS suitable - Fresia had been rumored to have a low key government, with no galactic powers claiming control of the world, and, further, no galactic cartels or criminals with deep ties in said governments, Fresia was more or less sequestered all by its lonesome. It was, in other words, perfect. Perfect for a struggling cartel to rebuild its strength, and perfect - due to its corporate style government - to gain control. It was a small but necessary step - perhaps paltry, considering the Quincy's former strength. But, a step nonetheless.

Turning towards the sound of a pneumatic door hissing open, Kael snapped a salute to Elder Sylvan, who walked over to Kael to look out with him. Sylvan, after a long moment, the pair watching as the ship flew close to a docking tower and coupled with its numerous docking arm, eventually turned to the young man, gesturing a far more laid back salute in return, before finally addressing Kael. "So military, Kael. So regimented. Surely we can relax? Surely we can rest?" Said the Elder, wearily. Kael shook his head vehemently. "No, sir. Not with your daughter on the war path. We have to build our strength before she goes too much momentum" Kael replied, his voice grim. "Surely, with the power of this ship, we have enough to rebuild." Sylvan said, grasping at straws - grasping at any chance of peace. Kael, stubbornly, wouldn't allow it. "One frigate and just over five hundred kinsmen? We could put up a fight...but we could never hold this world. Incom would crush us under its heel with just its security force - and the general populace would slowly destroy us if Incom suffered our presence. No. We must wage the slow battle...we must rebuild brick by brick, move by move." Kael said with passion. For a long moment, Sylvan stared at the young man, before chuckling quietly. "Old age has mellowed me Kael...but even I have to admit you're right. We've been moving so much, for so long, that I have forgotten what it's like to be at home. To be in control. To be back in the business. Forgive an old man his fancies." Kael, perhaps slightly horrified at the old man's apologies, snapped back to attention. "Sir! I meant no offense, sir!" But Sylvan waved the words away. "Relax Quincy Kael Kahn. I chose you, over all others, as commander of our forces. I chose you exactly for your passion, and for your memory of our strength. You spoke not out of turn." Kael seemed to relax at those words, eventually relaxing out of attention and into a more at ease stance, legs apart, hands clasped behind his back. Sylvan, turning back to the window, waved at the islands and oceans that stretched before them, and the sprawling cities that covered the Coromon archipelago. "Now...tell me Commander. What is your plan of attack?"

Kael straightened at those words, regarding the islands for a long moment, before replying slowly. "We have Intelligence that while Incom controls Coromon in a corporate style government, primarily as an oligarchy run by the chief officers, the majority of the day to day government is run by lower level corporate members. Besides this, while no single criminal force has an overarching foothold on the chains, three separate organizations control the eastern, central, and western island chains. The mutual consensus between myself and the sub-commanders of the ten families is that we should conquer these smaller organizations first, then move on Incom itself. We, of course, need the family heads approval for this plan of action." Sylvan nodded as Kael spoke, waving away Kael's request for permission. "You have your authorization Kael. I speak for all the heads when I say we have utmost faith in your ability. Tell me of these organizations, though, so that I might inform the heads...who is strongest? Or, rather, if none have taken the other over, and there is no stronger, who is the most threatening to us specifically?" Kael pointed at the central islands, a beautiful island with a glittering city in its center. "The central chain for sure. Dolga the Hutt resides there, and runs a drug trafficking ring - he hasn't taken over Fresia yet, because he is very young for a Hutt. This is his first attempt at crime, actually. Being young, he's impatient. Prone to brash decisions. He's made several decisions that have set back his gang, not to mention shed much publicity on his operation. He's number one on law enforcements watch list. He incidentally is our largest threat. Because he is a Hutt, it is possible he has heard of the Quincy Syndicate, or rather of our failed take over on Nal Hutta. He may deem fit to eliminate us immediately rather than patiently wait to see what we do."

Sylvan nodded slowly, before gesturing at the other island chains wordlessly. Kael continued on without skipping a beat. "The eastern chain is controlled by the Rakk Gang. A Swoop bike gang, they've expanded in size to several hundred individuals, and have their hands in Fresia's entire arms smuggling operations. They, out of all the others, are the most well armed - albeit the least organized, being mostly well armed thugs." Sylvan interrupted then, with a frown on his face. "Mostly?" He asked questioningly. Nodding in affirmation, Kael expanded. "Indeed. Their higher level officers are extremely violent - but very well organized compared to their general troops. This is due to the fact they're mostly hired third party security that Incom brought in. When their contract was up, they never left - finding Fresia to their liking. The western islands, in comparison, are a mix in terms of strengths and weaknesses compared to the Rakk and Dolga. They call themselves the SpyMeisters, and are a force of organized information brokers - a two part organization composed of an well armed and well trained army, and a dedicated and well equipped slicing force, the SPyMeisters have little interest in controlling territory - preferring to have a monopoly on the planets secrets and affairs."

Finishing his report, Sylvan nodded slowly, thoughtfully, before turning to Kael. "Quincy Kael Khan...what is your battle strategy?" Kael snapped to attention in response. "Sir! Our Intelligence is limited, and secrecy of our true nature is paramount. The SpyMeisters are militarily weak, but present the greatest threat - should they leak our identity to Dolga, he will doubtless move against us before we are properly dug in. My plan is to destroy and otherwise seize SpyMeister assets for ourselves, moving from there to the Rakk to seize armaments for our growing army - we will then eliminate the bothersome Dolga in a decisive strike. With the combined assets of all three organizations, plus Quincy craft, we should be able to have enough to control Incom from the Shadows."

Sylvan nodded once before turning on his heel, heading for the door. Just before he exited, though, he called over his solder. "Go with grace, and make it so Commander Kael."

The rifle kicked, the Meister soldier fell to the ground - his face a rictus of pain, a smoking hole in his chest. "Secure!" Called out Kael, his team eventually calling out the same as they cleared floor twenty three, room by room. Lobby and Gate teams had met with Sewer team and had killed the soldiers guarding the tertiary generators and hardlines. Not a moment too soon either; apparently they had been in a midst of a massive cyber attack against the Kynder, the frigate the Quincy had come in on. An aging ship, her computers had immediately gone haywire - the Elders reported full functionality now, though - and Kael felt that the threat of extended cyber attacks were done for good. No, now they faced a different problem; to reach floor twenty five before the slicers and techs wiped their hardware clean.

They had over seventy five agents in the building - with twenty five outside taking cover from the firestorm from floor twenty five. Kael and his team had made it thus far, though; he prayed the ten remaining perimeter guards could last till they breached the twenty fifth floor. Kicking a door open, Kael and his team took the stair well to floor twenty four, meeting up with four other separate teams on the way - at other stairways, other teams similarly advanced. Just as they collectively reached floor twenty four though...all hell broke loose. A flash, a collective explosion through the stairwells; in an instant, boobytraps took out an entire twenty soldiers, an entire fifth of Kael's total force. After the explosions came the torrents of blaster fire, nigh continuous streams that poured into stairwells from the floors that spiraled above. Another ten, collectively, were killed instantly. A third of his force was gone.

But they were well trained - they were used to fighting in the city, and it showed as they pressed themselves to the walls, and took cover when and where they could - slowly, but surely, the tide changed. The fire lessened, and, eventually, sputtered out of existence entirely. Floor twenty-four had been breached. Rushing into the halls of floor twenty-four, eager to push forward while they could, his team quickly and methodically shot technicians as they frantically tried to wipe hard drives and scrub files - this room, by the looks of it, was devoted to analyst stations and other personnel computers. The computer cores, the heavy duty processors and sifters, and the primary mainframe, was doubtless on the floor above - the fortified floor twenty-five. The last of the technicians fell over, his head a bubbling pool of flesh and bone - and Kael hit his comm. "Status update."

Reports filtered in - the perimeter team was wiped out - all twenty-five dead. Thirty dead in the push upward; the roof team suffered fifteen dead in the push downward. Seventy dead. Could they really finish this, with one floor left to go, with thirty people? They couldn't wait them out; time wasn't on Kael's side. "Roof team. Initiate R5 pattern on our entry. Mark." Risky. But it could pay off. With baited breath, the lobby, gate, and sewer teams waited for the go ahead - with roof team comming in after only two minutes that they were in position. The doors to floor twenty-five loomed, Kael took a breath. Then another. "Move. Go, go, go!" The doors were kicked in; the entire floor was dominated by a central computer tower, the mainframe, ringed by monitors, displays, and, worse of all - soldiers. Blaster fire poured in - five were mowed down instantly. But, thankfully, roof team was in egress - rappelling down from floor twenty-six down onto the balcony below, their rifles blazing - they mowed down the soldiers manning the emplacement weapons - primarily E-WEBs and the like - with relative ease. Landing and rolling they flanked the enemy as Kael and his team pushed forward.

Twenty men. Fifteen. Five. Finally, the last soldier fell to the ground, his lungs full of blood, his chest smoking - and Kael leveled his rifle to put a bolt into a final technician. "Report!" The teams sounded off - all floors cleared, all contacts dead. Five teams, including Kael's, were alive - for a total of twenty kin. One four fifths of his force had been killed in the assault. One of his men, a commander of another squad, must have seen the look on Kael's face. "Sir. We went in with basic Intel, visual summary only, with only rifles...the only way to win was through attrition." Kael stared at the man for a long moment, before nodding grimly, turning to regard one of his dead soldiers on the ground. "I know," Kael stated, darkly, "but that doesn't make it any easier, does it?"

The soldier only nodded in response - not having an answer for the Commander.

Exactly twenty-eight days later.

They had bid their time, gaining strength and gathering intelligence; their computer facilities augmented by underworld contacts, already the Quincy had a web of informants spanning the Coromon islands - from Cantinas to arms dealers, from slythmongers to brothels, the Quincy's web of influence was growing steadily but surely. Albeit, it was far from complete; many were distrustful of the newcomers, and their frigate - now long over staying its welcome - was gaining much publicity from Fresia's underworld and government. But the Quincy's kept up the charade - pretending that they were mere traders, selling their wares to the government; and, indeed, that particular ruse worked in their favor; their ship was run down, rusted, and huttian in design - it was a pirates or smugglers frigate at its best, and a scrap heap at its worst. The fact the frigate dominated coromon's docks was thus little concern to the Fresian government - and the ship remained unmolested, albeit leered at warily.

Kael Khan, Commander of the Quincy forces, meanwhile gathered Intel and developed a battle plan - and, after many days, had selected a strategy. Intelligence had pinpointed the Rakk gangs leader - former Colonel Hantel of the Fresian Private Security Force. The Colonel held the gang together, gave them cohesion - and kept infighting down to a minimum. Without the man, the entire gang would crumble like a house of cards. Such as it was that Kael found himself on the roof of a warehouse, across from a seedy motel that most members of the Rakk called home - peering through the scope of an E-11s sniper rifle, his sights wavering between a small group of - let's face it, highly UGLY thugs - and a group of scantily clad prostitutes. "Still no Colonel? All I see are thugs and whores." Muttered Kael into his comlink, adhered to his lapel. We're sure he'll show. Intel says he's going to arrive any minute now - to discipline the local gang boss for indulging too heavily in the, uh, "talent". Came the quick reply - from the rest of his team, a similar if not identical team of snipers on a building parallel to Kael's own warehouse. Kael shook his head, peering through the scope once more - watching as one of the thugs grabbed the near naked posterior of a particularly lustful Twi'lek. Kael rolled his eyes. He wasn't sure how much of this he could take - it had been a LONG time since any of them had been in an actual Intel mission, and already they'd been here for six hours. To say the pee jar was full would be an overstatement.

Ah, but then the roar of swoop bikes, the fearful expressions on the ladies of the night; the grim expressions on the thugs. Seven swoopbikes pulled into the hotel's ground parking, and Kael trained his sights on the new arrivals. Six muscled armed thugs with a variety of weapons, and one middle aged human, cropped hair, very military - hell, he even still wore his old war medals. "Hold your fire...the guards aren't well trained...he'll take the lead up the stairs, and probably knock on the door himself. He likes to be in charge and swagger around. That's why he's leading a swoop gang and not a military unit." Kael muttered into his comm under his breath. But, his blood suddenly ran cold as the Colonel paused mid walk, turning to scan the buildings rooflines - no doubt a habit learned over many years. Stock still, he heard the breaths catch in his teams throat - and, swallowing down more than a little nervousness himself, he grated out orders in hushed tones. "Calm. Hold your fire. He's trying to spook a reaction...he's also taking a bet that a sniper will shoot center mass. That boy's got armor on for sure...all teams aim for the head. Wait for my command. Tell me when you have your marks." One by one, his teams counted in - the sniper team to his right chiming in first, the third - a team a little far back, and a little higher on a convenience store, chiming in last. On the ground, two squads of ten in riot gear and assault weapons chimed in readiness. Kael himself chimed in that he had drawn a bead as well.

Everyone waited...the Colonel's gaze swept along - not seeing the Samuac with their goggle covered eyes, hidden under or behind signs and refuse on the buildings, blending in into the night in their shadowsilk armors - a nice little bonus from taking over the SpyMeisters. Snorting, the Colonel waved a hand dismissively as a thug guard asked something questioningly - and the Colonel continued up the steps to the upper level of the hotel - his guards trailing. Kael, hearing the sighs of relief over the comm's allowed himself a small smile - but kept his sights steady. The Colonel passed one door...two doors...three doors. He paused then, backtracking to the third door. Apparently the local boss had changed rooms. The Colonel raised a hand to knock - down his fist came, once...twice...

"All units. Fire." The command came quickly and sharply - and a trio of long beamed blaster bolts sped out of the darkness - the first striking the Colonel's head, obliterating it - the other two dissolving the man's neck and passing through the door beyond. Shouts and protests came from the Thugs - who shot into the darkness at the buildings, firing randomly at where they thought the sniper beams had come from. "Continue fire. Prioritize at will. Ground teams are go." Another trio of sniper beams snapped out of the darkness - and another three thugs fell to the ground, holes smoking in their chests. As the snipers fired, the two ground teams moved in, quiet as shadows - suppressed weaponry barking in short bursts; mowing down thugs and prostitute alike. No survivors were called for; no evidence whatsoever. In the space of a mere ten seconds, thirteen thugs, one Colonel, and six prostitutes lay dead - and Kael's teams chimed in the all clear. Shaking his head, peering out at the slaughter, Kael smiled slightly.

"All teams, good work. Maintain cover for the cleanup crews - we'll let nature do the rest."

The cartel war had begun - one thousand armed Samuac marched through the streets towards Dolga's holdings, and, in mere seconds, the air was filled with blaster fire. Rockets screamed forth from artillery battalions, grenade and blaster fire were laid down in great swaths on the front lines, and, to the rear, a handful of liberated heavy cannons blasted away at Dolga's fortress - an offensive Huttian affair at the edge of one of the abandoned islands in the central island complex. The Hutt's forces were not unprepared, though. Fighters lifted off, about a dozen, and about seven hundred troops spilled out of the fortress to engage the enemy Syndicate. Missile battalions did their best to keep the fighters off the heavy cannons - trying to give them time to take down a sizable portion of Dolga's fortress.

To the rear, Commander Quincy Kael Khan surveyed the battle field, his vanguard command team taking in reports, updating the battlefield hologram scenario, and redirecting troops as needed. The Hutt had the advantage of a stone fortress with durasteel plating, but lacked shields. He made up for this with cannon emplacements that dotted the fortress' sides. Kael's own heavy cannons and missile battalions focused on these emplacements first, accordingly. In all, the Quincy had the edge numbers wise - the Hutt the edge in technology. It would be a close battle. Maybe. The Quincy DID have a secret weapon; a capital ship grade Ion rocket. But, it took time to calibrate and to achieve a lock on - as the rocket had been modified to work in a ground based mobile launcher. It was a slip shod affair, but it worked - just barely. The downside, again, was time.

"Quite an impressive display." Came a voice from behind Kael and, turning his head, he saw Sylvia, his sister, standing with her arms crossed. Almost dismissively Kael turned back to the battle. "You're still mad at me?" Sylvia continued, ignoring the technicians that surrounded Kael. "Surely you can see the value in what I did. We could, potentially, have our entire information network set up." Kael snorted, waving a hand at her. "We have the power to do that ourselves! Just because you had a handful of rogue family elders to agree with you doesn't give you the license to speak for the Samuac as a whole!" Snapped Kael, eliciting a smug smirk from his sisters face. "But...you DO see the value in dealing with these Imperials." She insisted persistently. Kael simply shook his head, discontent with the whole affair. "Yes. I see the value. I also see the danger. If something should go wrong...we could be annihilated." Sylvia chuckled slightly, gesturing at the battle that played out in front of them. "What? And this is any less dangerous?" Kael gave Sylvia a sharp look, but, otherwise, didn't respond. "Let's face it," continued Sylvia, "the only reason you're upset...is because we're dealing in galactic politics again." 

Kael was quiet for a long time, not speaking to Sylvia, only giving terse commands to his communications officers - adjusting the flow of the battle accordingly. A rocket, its engine trail streaking through the sky, struck Dolga's fortress, a bright blue flash making all present squint their eyes. Like dead flies, starfighters fell out of the sky - those near the fortress anyway - and the fortress' gun emplacements fell silent. As one, Kael's army pushed forward - overrunning the Hutt's surprised forces. "This...war itself...is predictable. This is logical. Above all things, I don't want a repeat of LAST time. After all, it started the very much the same as THIS time. We made a deal, goods were delivered...and our information network was compromised. And as a result...we were destroyed. All according to our supposed allies plan." Sylvia was quiet for a long time, pondering her brother's words, before eventually speaking. "Look...I know where you're coming from. Ok? I do. But what we were before? That isn't a life. That's...waiting to die out. If given a choice, wouldn't you rather be like this army? To fight, or go down fighting?" Kael, listening to reports filter in as his army breached Dolga's fortress, nodded in satisfaction as reports came in that all floors had been taken, and Dolga had been killed. Turning to his sister, Kael nodded silently, before responding. "Yes. I do want that. I also want to be powerful again....which is why I told your guards, several of whom are my men, not to kill you. Instead, I endorsed your plan...and sent that message to Bespin. We will make the most of this situation...and, like true Quincy, come out on top." Sylvia smiled at her brother, relieved. "Hey...there's my little brother. Who would he be if he wasn't threatening to kill me?" Kael simply snorted and shook his head, before inquiring further about her trip. "Well? Was a deal struck?" Sylvia shrugged slightly. "Maybe. I left in a hurry. I asked for too much, hoping to negotiate down to what we really wanted...I gave him final terms, as well as Fresia, like you suggested. Now we wait. I think we should leave Fresia once we're done, just as we planned."

Kael watched as the battle began to peter out, prisoners taken accordingly, or, others, the last pockets of resistance, being killed one by one by various sweep teams. In all, the fortress was theirs...for now. "We shouldn't tarry here much longer. We're targets...we need to be on the move...or..." Kael trailed off, and Sylvia snickered. "Or...on a more defensible world? Or...armed with a REAL army and a real fleet?" Sylvia finished. Kael nodded at the sentiment, gesturing at the fight in front of them. "Indeed. Good or bad, your actions put us on the map...we need to be prepared. After Fresia, we will call a Quincy Moot...and, if we're lucky...we will have enough resources to go to stage two." Sylvia snapped a salute to her brother, albeit if somewhat lazily. "Should I proceed to Serenno? It would speed up our plans." Kael nodded in affirmation, and gestured to the frigate in the distance. Sylvia smiled knowingly, and, saluting once more, turned and left the command salon. Kael, though, called out a final response before she left. 

"Sister, be safe. For the Quincy."

Years had passed. The Mandalorian influence on Fresia had faded as the Mandalorian Empire dissolved once more into individual clans. Mandos who had moved to Fresia during the height of Plu Or'dinii's power had emigrated back to their native stongholds in the Outer Rim, or had followed the Or'dinii deep into the Unknown Regions. With the fall of Empress Teta and other Or'dinii strongholds in the Core Worlds, Fresia was cut off from Mandalorian space. At the recommendation of Plu Or'dinii, the corporate government of the planet, controlled by Incom Administrator Marcus Adenn, had sought to ally themselves with the Galactic Republic. That too had failed, with the Republic disbanding mere months after Fresia had won Senate confirmation. Even worse, Plu Or'dinii himself had disappeared. Rumors had it that he had set out on a personal quest, and never returned. 

With only minimal Or'dinii guidance and support, Fresia and Incom had struggled. The loss of the Mandalorian Empire and the Galactic Republic had robbed them of their two largest markets for their products. Only two good things had come out of the years of economic depression that followed. One was that with the departure of non-Incom employees, all of the planet's resources could be focused on the tiny remaining population of the ocean world. The second was that the wars between the vultures picking at the scraps of the Republic had passed Fresia by. She was not the strategic location she had once been without her economic power. 

But the shareholders were not content, and it took much persuasion for Marcus Adenn to keep his position as Administrator during last month's annual meeting. He had come within one vote of being removed from office, and he knew that he had a year to turn the company around and find Incom new markets for her products, or he was done. Many had begun to question why they needed a Mandalorian as Administrator if he could not deliver any Mando customers, and he could not dispute their logic. Most of the meeting had been a tongue-lashing, and he felt like he had been fired six times over before the vote somewhat surprisingly came out in his favor, and he was "re-hired" for one last shot at saving the company.


[Incom Headquarters, Offices of the Administrator.]

It had been a quiet morning in the administrative offices of the Incom Corporation. Business was slow, and no legal or governmental issues had arise that required the attention of the Administrator's staff. But then, about half an hour before noon, just as C8-T19 had finished organizing all of the Administrator's appointments for the week, the protocol droid's comlink began to buzz.

The servo-motors in Caitey's right arm hummed softly as she reached out to press the answer button. You have reached the offices of Incom Corporation Administrator Marcus Adenn. This is Cee-Eight Tea-Nineteen at your service. The droid's female voice responded in a helpful tone.

There was a brief moment of static, and then the miniaturized holo-figure of a Mandalorian's helmet and chestplate materialized. The figure bowed slightly, then addressed the protocol droid in a gravelly voice. Su'cuy, Cee-Eight. This is Nuukh Hakh'khar Or'dinii. I have a message for Marcus Adenn from Plu Or'dinii. I wish to speak with the Administrator in person regarding Clan Or'dinii's ongoing legal claim to the planet Fresia, and a proposal to settle the old lawsuit in a manner that benefits Incom as well as the Or'dinii.

That was a lot of information to take in at once, but fortunately, that was exactly what Caitey had been programmed to do, and she quickly reviewed the Administrator's calendar, rather than expressing the emotional surprise and confusion that a meatbag would have expressed at such an unexpected contact. Absolutely, sir. The Administrator has an opening three days from today, at 10 o'clock sharp. We will see you then.

During its failed attempt to join the Republic, Incom had sued the Or'dinii, not out of anger or disloyalty, but simply to force a response to the question of whether Incom owned Fresia, or whether it belonged to the Mandalorian Empire. Since the planet had originally been a part of Plu's private mercenary empire, and not a Mando world, the question remained unresolved, mostly due to Plu's failure to respond in court and the Republic court system's inability to locate the missing Mandalorian to serve him a subpoena.

~ Incom Headquarters -- Hangar C ~

Screaming the vessel into the designated hangar as instructed, Mira and Aimee managed to slow the ship down and land otherwise easily. A better landing for the Skaibyrd Idyll than had been maneuvered and performed than of those in the past, a thought which brought a beaming smile to the Zeltrons face. The nervousness that came with Mira’s quickened landings ended up melting from her Twi’lek companion as well.

After toggling a few buttons to lock down the Idyll, Mira and Aimee rose from their seats, Aimee needing to take a moment to tug at her white dress to smoothen out the wrinkles and cover a bit more of her thighs. It was still an odd request to dress in such a celebratory attire for picking up what should be a simple job, but after a successful landing like that, luck surely had to be on their side. Mira at the very least seemed unfazed. She didn’t say a word to Bee disconnecting himself from the ship and rolling behind them. Then again, nothing had ever gone awry in past jobs Gromm Sato gave the girls. Despite his uncharacteristic request, this time should be no different.

Dressed like night and day, Mira with her loud colors and eclectic jewelry and Aimee with the bright yet subtle neutrals and simple gold jewelry, the girls headed down off the boarding ramp with their astromech in tow. The moment that Mira spotted Gromm Sato waiting within the hangar, she offered a dramatic wave in his direction to grab his attention, which may have been otherwise unnecessary. He was expecting them, after all.

“Glad to hear you still live, love,” Mira chirped with a smile. “I was beginning to wonder after all this time.”

Mira hummed as she flashed Gromm a charming smile to his flattery. Luckily, nothing had changed about him over the years. While she happily accepted his hand in a formal welcoming, the Zeltron stepped in closer to press her lips against his cheek in her more signature, warm greeting. Aimee simply took his hand and offered a genuine smile but allowed Mira to do most of the talking and schmoozing. This was one of her personal gigs, and Aimee was simply here by the fact that most clients knew she never left her friend's side.

“No worries at all. It’s something we’ve both shared,” Mira reassured with a giggle, her smile reaching her eyes, which shimmered with the same warmth as her personalized greeting. “You’ve been one of my most loyal clients for years. The moment you patched through your request to meet, I was eager to finish up my last line of work and drop all others to get here. I have to voice my concern this time, dear," Mira added, worry nowhere actually evident in her eyes. "This is the first where you haven't disclosed much of anything to me before I got here. I hope this isn't a time-sensitive project."

Although Mira laughed pleasantly with her words, Aimee did all she could to keep that friendly smile painted on her expression. However, her fingers ended up intertwining with Mira's as she squeezed the Zeltron's hand. Mira could still sense her oddly-placed worry regarding the encounter and squeezed her hand back reassuringly. However, both looked up at the man with some sense of curiosity about this mystery-job.

Aimee’s discomfort was easily enough seen in her expression as Gromm took her hand and forced her to twirl about. The dangling white tassels of her dress created a fun yet elegant movement, something the Twi’lek was apprehensive in joining along with. Mira seemed ecstatic, though, a giggle bursting through the calm. Aimee didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the man’s gesture in attempting to get her to loosen up and didn’t immediately scurry next to her friend’s side. Still, she revealed an abashed, timid smile as she returned next to Mira and held tight to her hand even more than before.

Mira’s bubbling laughter subsided but not wholly, remnants of her fun resonating as lighter, quieter laughter. As she squeezed Aimee’s hand back, she poured out a relaxing and easygoing sensation to wash over her friend, to brush away any lingering shyness and embarrassment that took hold of the Twi’lek. Gromm Sato’s charisma was enough to make some feel on edge like he was about to try to sell something. In a way, though, that was exactly what he did. He and Mira were cut from the same cloth, and why she enjoyed working for him as much as she did.

“It sounds easy enough for still not knowing anything about this project,” quipped Mira, her smile taking on a bit more of a mischievous undertone. “I'll, of course, have to have more information before we agree to any terms. It makes me curious how it’s something you can’t solve on your own, though.”

The Zeltron made it a pointed fact despite that ever-so-innocent smile that she wore. It was hard enough to accept a job when she knew nothing about what it contained. Usually, Gromm’s work for her remained in the more technical aspects of her expertise, at least, and wasn’t wholly outside his wheelhouse. She was just an additional set of eyes that had more time than he did. It was also a tad bit odd that he would push that it was a classified arrangement, seeing as Mira usually kept all of her clients, no matter what they requested of her, confidential. Still, Mira was figuratively foaming at the mouth in hopes to get her hands on something of this caliber to challenge her mind, something which his projects tended to do. Gromm had opened the door into the building, to which Mira curtseyed with a dramatic flair in thanks before tugging Aimee inside with her.

“You needn’t worry, either, dear. The only one who knows of the work I do for you is Aimee. I only release my own projects to the public,” Mira reassured before continuing with amused laughter laced within her jesting words, “Speaking of pay, though, what were you planning on offering for this little job of yours? I may have to tack on another zero for all your continued mystery about it.”