Log:New Republic: The Troiken Matter

New Republic: The Troiken Matter

OOC Date: May 19, 2020
Location: Troiken
Participants: Ektor as GM, Tyrius Bodega, Aure Deserra, Liren, Qesteris Uvallian, Lokir, Merek, Barad, Aryn Cole

The Troiken Matter had smoldered in the background of galactic politics, while Jedha was invaded by the First Order, and the New Republic had begun dialogue with a new power rising in the Outer Rim, but the state of the Xexten and the shadowy goings-on in their home system had not been wholly forgotten. Republic Intelligence had sent special agent Silver Astro back to Troiken as part of a detachment of diplomatic observers. Nosin Falso, the self-styled Primarch of the Xexten homeworld, had admitted the representatives of the Senate, but established clear zones where 'ongoing operations' would prevent poking around.

By pure coincidence, the spice mines, and few major cities not aligned with Falco's rule were on the off-limits list.

Thus, Silver Astro had explained, the current mission would be undertaken in two parts: the above-board diplomatic effort to learn what can be found in the approved areas- knowing that the Hydian League and their agents would be closely watching them- and the second team, which Silver herself would accompany. The covert team would travel aboard a separate civilian ship. Of that team, the less anyone knew going in, the better.

The Republic courier vessel had set down at the capital starport, and been met by an entourage of six-limbed little Xexten, and a smiling human male with a ridiculous mustache in the grey and brown uniform of the Hydian League. The foremost Xexten- with the aid of a translator droid- had welcomed the representatives of the Senate, and shown them to the building set aside for their use while in the city. Of course, if they could be of any assistance, they need only ask.

Tyrius Bodega had made hus way back to troiken. Maybe it was the Spice from last yime or perhaps the drinks. It couldnt be he just loved being showered in attention. No he was back and ready yo meet with some very important people. Cane and Cape with him, he moved intonthe embassy with that swagger he had been getting onown for, tooth smooth smile, and glossy eyes.

The Aure of Aurea is among those arriving as part of the above-board delegation. The rich colors of her jewel toned dress toned down with far less ornamentation than she is usually known for. The effected smile is warm and inviting as she makes the approach to join the Primarch.

She fixes the coif of her hair with a brush of her hand and the datapad in her other is drawn to her chest. "Qesteris, remind me that I need to hire a new aide. Notes should be taken by someone else and not me. Makes it a bit difficult otherwise." A brief glance to her guard is given before she glances to Bodega. "Glad you could come."

Of late, Liren, so sure of herself in the limited sphere of the university, confident of her place in the world has begun to have doubts. Liren has realized that she doesn't know as much as she thought she did. Neither about herself nor how she will contribute to the mission she has been sent on. Nor, about the deception, the present government is trying to pull. She amends that; she knows they are pulling 'a fast one' just not what.

Pushing back her green hood, she nods pleasantly to the aides ushering them in. One arm pressed against her bag containing a datapad for recording the proceedings, she attaches herself to the rear of the group and glides in letting none of her previous thoughts show on her face.

"As you wish, My Lady - new aide. We could utilize a protocol droid as well should you wish." Qesteris walks at Aure's elbow, staff in hand like a walking stick and his sword sheathed on his hip. The sight of Tyrius raises his head and Qesteris bows it slightly,

"It's good to see you again, m'lord. Happy to know we have additional people here who can help should my lady be found in danger."

Lokir has a plan. He's not getting paid enough to get locked in the mines. He's not so eager as to become an international incident. But he is keen to hunt down...some gossip. His mirrored helm features a decorative frontal crest--good for scaring up free samples at the market. Lokir doesn't advertise his in-built shock gloves or side pistol hidden beneath his cloak. Following towards the rear of the group, Lokir gives off concerted "bodyguard" vibes...looking forward to the moment he can hit the pavement and start to mingle among the common citizenry.

The caped blonde, Aryn Cole, is at the tail-end of the diplomatic entourage. Though New Alderaan had been the point of intrigue in the Courts and Senate, Aryn had not come to act as their Viceroy, but as a guardian and member of the thought-extinct Jedi Order.

Despite any predisposition to her presence, Aryn adds little beyond a kind greeting to the man in the brown uniform wearing that ridiculous mustache. "Well met, sir. Tell me, is your Colonel on world today?" Aryn makes a gesture for him to follow and walk with her, making no effort to conceal the lightsaber at her side. Her gloved hands lock at the small of her back, beneath the cape that gently bounces with each measured step.

It's a very ridiculous mustache. Grown very long and then forked, the upper curls of the mustache are waxed and curve toward his nose, while the lower forks are braided together at his chin. A ready smile and 'dashing' bow to Aryn. "He is, milady. In the field, I believe."

No party, no drink, not ever a line of spice. Tyrius went through a very dry and unwelcoming greeting between several diplomats and delegates. Each time, he was talked over and disreguarded... not to mention the smelly League guy breathing down his neck. Rebuffed with each hint and question reguarding the opposition cities or anyone who might lend him and ear to what was really going on. Clenched teeth through the whole thing with a terse smile.

"Perhaps a droid," Senator Deserra remarks to Qesteris. When she gets a moment with the Primarch, she steps closer and the Aure speaks with him at lenght, congenial smiles all around and the woman seems to find nothing amiss, at least in what is presented. There is a momentary consideration during this conversation with a glance towards her guard before she takes down some information on her own datapad.

"I am glad to hear the Hydian League shall not be taking up a permanent position. The Republic did have some concerns."

Several words float up to the surface of her mind as Liren walks behind the other Jedi in the group, talking to the impressively mustachioed man. Smarmy. Slick. Unmilitary. Out of place. Watchful.

In the brief greeting they exchange, Liren feels he is as out of place here as she feels. She stands just on the edge of their conversation, cocktail party distance, only lacking the requisite drink in hand, letting Dr. Cole engage him.

If there is something a lifelong sailor, ship security guard and now Senatorial Bodyguard can do? It's stand. Qesteris is great at it. Just standing. Qesteris stands next to a park, stands next to a frog-dog when it barks. He stands by the street today, he stands silent while the children play. He finds cameras without much ado, he finds a lot rather than a mere few

There's so many at the bank, and oh my look at this place in the plaza! There is a tank! Found them, bound theme, their exoteric - he must inform his Aure Deserre!!

Lokir spends five minutes at the official fun convention, pretending to be on the clock. Then his chrono alarm beeps. "About time. Caf break." Taking care not to ruffle any feathers, Lokor heads out the door for some seedy air and environs more fit for the...mining type. Weaving in and out of crowds, Lokir keeps his ears and eyes peeled until the streets start to get dirty and folks aren't afraid to hawk their wears in the loud voices found galaxy wide at bodegas and corner markets. Making his way into a dark hole of a dive bar that smells faintly of womp rat and crusted ale, Lokir gets comfortable. "Correllian whisky and water...and keep 'em coming."

"I see. And may I ask: these criminals that are being targeted, the ones that the Hydian League are arresting; where are they presently kept?" Aryn is meandering, walking with little purpose beyond carrying on a conversation. She's unaware of his ill-fit to the role or to the fact that the Aliens accompanying him are watching him as much as he is watching them.

"I ask because in most cases, criminals are given a fair trial to ascertain their innocence. It is an important part of delivering justice. Do you agree, Mr..." She turns slightly, expectant of his name. This allows for a cursory glance to regard Lady Liren Iskender, who has maintained a respectable length with them.

Merek takes time to set up what looks like an offsite terminal, then he begins to link up with a nod for Kat, "Master, you might want to think, if they find you, they will take me," the feline droid begins, while synthetic fur will glimmer. "You know, I think they accept house pets at adoption these days." The man adjusts the headphones which he wears, while he checks the goggles that link information, then he begins to compile information.

Barad is not a spy, and Barad is not a politician. Yet Barad was "in" on this action from the start and so Barad is trying to do his best to stay out from underfoot while being at least remotely useful. What Barad is, is a Medic. And what Medics do, ideally, is heal folks. Patch 'em up and get 'em back up to speed. As of yet, no one's been injured, and Barad had already made contact with the local hospitals last time. Not much to do, so Barad tags along pre-emptively with those most likely to -get- injured this time. Those prone to returning from missions with missing arms, for instance. As a quirk of fate would have it, Merek is actually looking into the health care of the local systems. Hm! That's interesting! Barad quietly fills Merek in on the extremely low casualty counts noted last time, and the marked lack of injury to any of the heavy weapons crews. Meaning all of the space-pointing gun emplacements would still be operating at normal efficiency. So Barad relays that information, while checking to see which drugs are on back-order. What the govt. might be -preparing- for...

Tyrius eventually gets an answer, albeit a cryptic one. Of the myriad problems which could be spoken of, in this location, all the little Xexto can bring himself to say (after lowering the volume of his translator droid) is to confide, "The Humans.. they're never going to leave."

Rys laughs 'pleasantly' offering a languid bow to, "Princess," and another, after smoothing his mustaches, to, "Lady Iskender, you grace us all with your loveliness." He winks. What kind of Major winks? But Aryn is talking business, and he smiles anew, "Your information is sadly out of date, milady: there is only one holdout pretender who carries on a war of sabotage and insurrection against Primarch Falco. There *were* five, once. But.. unity! Progress! Stamping out of organized crime that had ruled the world for so long has had a marvelous effect on morale." As for whether speaking against the regime would violate law, Terragonne laughs again. "Of course not. Arrests are for criminals, enemies of the common people, and servants of chaos. You're no servant of chaos, are you, Princess?" He is not a gifted liar.

Tyrius takes the serious tone from the native Xexto... seriously. His lips purce, brows furrowing. It wasn't long before he would return to he ship after getting message. There was a thoughtful look about his face and once he saw their handlers, he would say. "Government's been purged... League's taken over this rock and they're not leaving."

Lokir puts some stumble in his step as he rises from the bar. As he passes the folks who were eyeing him, he stage whispers "Ugh...must have been some bad challat." Back on the streets, Lokir weaves in and out of crowds, keeping an eye out for tails. <Corpse Reviver here...checking in. Folks are tight lipped. Wrong words lead to arrests in this friendly town.> Lokor makes his way towards the rendevous point.

Even with her attempts to coax information from those loyal and putting on a good face, there is little Aure can add to what has likely been gathered. The Senator excuses herself with the message is delivered to her datapad. "We leave tonight. Thank you for your hospitality."

She returns to the ship to await the others with only the faint understanding that the primarch has loyal people though the wariness over humans is apparent.

SHe will have little to offer.

Liren dips her head to the Princess acknowledging the introduction. "Liren Iskender of New Alderaan," she begins and is interrupted by a chime that echoes through the room. "Excuse me." She removes the offending datapad to consult, saying aloud, "It seems we are not staying the night after all." She looks a question at the Princess.

He's a good visitor to the planet, on leave, paying his attention... What is -in- this sandwich!? This is AMAZING... He sniffs. Sniffs again. It's not rodentia... Sniff. Not nerf. A long purple tongue flick licks just the meaty goodness contained between savory seed bread.

Not Bantha.

All the while Qesteris is on his way, walking along and singing (badly) to himself as he makes for the starport - to make an exit and to insure that his charge is safe.

Because he has -one- job.

One.

Aryn isn't convinced. "I can't abide, liars, Major. It's no secret what this league is after. Money. And for money, the Hydian league removes all the obstacles for a weak ruler to take over, but it's not Falco who rules. He gets the title, you all get the riches, and the victims.. the ones who speak out are killed or imprisoned; I suspect mining the very filth you're all making your creds on. It's ironic..the Hydian League helping an alien world."

Aryn says, directing her comments to the aliens accompanying the Major. "The Colonel is quite the former Imperial, and you know what Imperials despised more than disorder and crime. More than anything really?" Aryn sighs. "Anything that is not human. That kind of prejudice doesn't go away. BUT, the good Major says justice is being served, corruption is being routed, and the pretenders brought down from their dais of power. What pillars of culture and civilization once stood here will crumble soon enough, and I suspect Falco will bend the knee like everyone else before too long. A firmly and efficiently executed plan."

Aryn focuses a moment, drawing her influence of the force, while her hand traces its path back to her lower back. It was an attempt to uppend the datapad that was so neatly tucked in the Major's pocket. Alas, all Aryn ended up doing was dislodging it and causing a clatter, albeit.. naturally.

For that, Aryn was eternally grateful for Liren's part. "Just so." Aryn answers. "I'm not sure the air agrees with me afterall. Come, my Lady. Our business takes us elsewhere. Major.. be in good health, sir. Peaceful partings, my friends." Aryn says in farewell to the Major and his alien friends.

Merek takes a moment to look at the cigarillo which he lights, then nods a bit to Barad, "Well, thank you. We will do what we can along with the information." The man begins to pack up a bit of the equipment.

Barad follows Merek on back to the rendezvous, noting to Merek that Barad's search for the government's planned use of various medicines and pharmaceutical supplies had actually come up -more- than empty, in that pretty much -none- of the typical medications were being used at the levels you'd expect for a city this size. Minimal casualties during the fighting. Almost no wounds of, for, or by heavy weapons crews -- just "small - arms" fire. Whatever other problems this planet might have, treating sick and injured people just doesn't seem to be on the list. Or if it is, it's simply just not being addressed. Well, time will tell ...

Once aboard the courier ship, and once underway, the Senator and her party are informed of an incoming communique, under high encryption. The vessel's holoprojector blinks with a green light, indicating a live image, but the projector remains dark. A male voice is heard muttering, <<Just calm down, we're clear- no lie, you went out pink and came back purple, yeah? Oh, drek, it's on- hey, uh.. Senatorial.. vessel. How come I got no visual?>> A terse feminine voice cuts in, <<The receptor is disabled, you->> whatever epithet she had prepared is ignored as the ghostly blue image of Silver Astro flickers into being. << Senator, Representative, and all others. My apologies for the necessity of our sudden departure. We have.. news.>>

Aide. Aure definitely needs that as she sits there and sets her datapad down against her leg. The information on the planet is drawn up as well as history that she reviews as the communique patches through. The stylus in her hand is tapped against the side in some subdued rhythm as she listens.

A glance to the others as they find their own places and she nods her head, "Something to take back for the Senate?" There is a hopeful lilt of her voice as she ceases the tapping of the stylus.

Lokir stands against a bulkhead, no trace of ibeb...inbe..inivbr...drunkenness obvious. The holoprojection flickers against his mirrored faceplate. < Sounds like you guys had a rough op. Any blowback?>

"Some concrete evidence other than just the obvious that's going on here?" Tyrius asks as he is seated not far from Aure, nursing a glass of booze he so desperatly needed after that fact finding mission that only yeiled hearsay and nothing much of evidence... "Someone is willing to speak to the senate?" Echoing Aure's own speculation or wish.

Qesteris doesn't say that out loud. Really. At least a couple people should. His own data is being uploaded to Aure's for her perusal to disseminate as she sees fit. Indeed he keeps himself, more or less, pinned to her side the moment they're reunited - playing cerulean sentinel, trying to keep his damned tongue in check.

The young woman from New Alderaan rereads the call back to the ship with a frown. Liren types a rapid text which she sends to the Princess. <<Why do you think we were recalled?>>

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT.

Aryn unclips her datapad, reads the short message and starts to type with gloves on only to realize.. she can't type with gloves on. Initially the message <<"dssssdGHGFD ,.,.,dsjhsdvtw">> Is sent mistakenly. Subsequently, a few moments are devoted to removing her gloves, then she replies properly. <<"Sorry.-- I've not the slightest inclination. Given some time, perhaps more will be revealed.">> Sent. Her screen darkens.

<<Yes, Senator. My team successfully infiltrated one of the smaller spice mines, where security was lighter. It- no one to address the Senate, and no concrete number->> the offscreen make voice advises, <<Just show em the thing, yeah?>> Silver's mouth draws into a tight line and nods. Transmission commencing.>> The image blinks out, replaced by a recording taken from a hand directed camera. By the timestamp, it was taken about three hours ago. Silver's voice narrates, <<Subsection Suresh two. Gallitep mining complex, Troiken.>> The view pans across a cavern, which at first pass appears to be a blue-white floor marked by a series of flat black squares. Until the image refocuses, and those flat squares are shown to be the open tops of a line of eight ore carts, and the blue-white mass is revealed as a thick carpet of bodies, blanketing the cavern and ore carts. "I.. can't guess how many. Many thousands, here alone-"> Astro states quietly.