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[Fic] Admiral Ancete

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“You have a visitor, sir. Private Business?” the secretary informed.

 

“Who is it?” Al Darpin, the chief executive at Czerka Corporation Corellia asked.

 

“He is an Ithorian, his name is Chodo Tabba. Comes from Coruscant.” The secretary answered.

 

Al considered the information. The Corellian branch of Czerka was inferior compared to the Coruscant branch. If the Ithorian had actually travelled from Coruscant to Corellia just to meet Al Darpin; that meant that the business was definitely private. Al was an influential man and was often referred to as Czerka’s right hand man. He had a command over the Corporation’s operations, but he was equally infamous for his underworld ventures.

 

“Send him in.” Al ordered and prepared himself.

 

A few seconds later, the door slid open and in marched a modestly-dressed Ithorian. He had keen eyes, pine green back and an aquamarine skin. He walked in with an air of humble dignity, and reticence.

 

“Good Afternoon, Sir Darpin.” Chodo addressed, “I have a private matter to conduct. Rest assured it will not take much of your time.”

 

“Yes, of course. Have a seat, please and we may proceed.”

 

“Forgive my requesting you, but our business cannot be conducted when there are… objects of surveillance in this room.”

 

Al got the hint. He tapped away at his computer console and Chodo watched as the cameras shunned their gazes and the two security droids stationed by the door went into standby mode. Chodo felt secure now and sat in the chair directly opposite to that of Al Darpin.

 

“The subject matter of this discussion will be an indignity I have had to suffer, and a terrible misfortune. But do not be alarmed, Sir! The deed I ask of you is quite within your reach.”

 

Al leaned back with an air of scepticism, but didn’t say anything.

 

“I have heard that Czerka has suffered a severe setback a few weeks ago, a stock blunder, yes? I have heard that Czerka is in desperate need of capital, of funds.”

 

“Do you seek to donate?” Al asked in the most formal tone he could muster.

“In a way, yes. But I plead you to hear me out. I have heard you conduct business that is not necessarily approved by Republic Trade Regulations and Laws.”

 

“Yes, I get your drift.”

 

“Then I have an offer you might be thoroughly interested in. You see, I am Chodo Tabba, personal assistant of Mozdan Qubat. I trust you have heard of Mr. Qubat?”

 

“No, I’m afraid not.”

 

“Ah, not surprising! Mr. Qubat is the owner of the Cubata Company, a local department store chain in Ithor. Our petite company is a modest little family. But lately we have been having some… troubles, you can say. A group of mercenaries have been harassing us, picking on our humble interests!”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“They are a group of ugly Trandoshan mercenaries from the vile planet of Nar Shaddaa, or was that a moon? Doesn’t matter! They have been paid for and take much pleasure in seeing our ruin, our despair! They call themselves Red Eclipse, I think.”

 

“Why don’t you try contacting the authorities?”

 

“We have a very weak infrastructure at Ithor. The authorities can very easily be bought, especially considering that these mercenaries hail from… Nar Shaddaa. Many Hutts there, very sick business.”

 

“Go on.”

 

“These mercenaries, they got involved in a fight with another group of mercenaries. The other group was carrying a ship-load of spice, the intoxicating stuff. The Trandoshans attacked them and stole the spice, then forced us to keep it!"

 

“And you did?”

 

“I had no option, Mr. Darpin! I kept it, but soon enough the other group came back for revenge and eliminated the Trandoshans from our vicinity. They didn’t bother looking for the spice, though. I wonder why.”

 

“Most curious, yes. So what did you do with the spice?”

 

“That is the reason I have approached you, Mr. Darpin. I seek to… be relieved of my cause of pain.”

 

“You want to sell me the spice.”

 

“Yes, if you wish to put it so bluntly. It is a most delicate matter, you must understand! My boss, Mr. Qubat is ill, very, very ill! We cannot afford to pay for his treatment, as that will require doctors from Coruscant, or Telos, or Ossus!”

 

“Indeed, but I have a question to ask.” Al leaned ahead and stared in an intimidating manner into the eyes of the Ithorian. “My secretary reported that you hail from Coruscant. And now you tell me…”

 

“I had some very important business on Coruscant. A very private, personal family matter. I trust you will not intrude?”

 

“No, of course not. So you would like to sell your load of spice to us…”

 

“Yes, and that way I can procure enough money to heal Mr. Qubat. It is a mutually beneficial deal, Mr. Darpin. Czerka can sell, or distribute this spice to make money!”

 

“Quite possible, though work regulations prevent me from disclosing marketing strategy.” Darpin replied with a smile.

 

“So… do we have a deal?”

 

“How much spice?”

 

“Enough to fill a CCS-43 Trunk-Class Cargo Ship.”

 

“I will consider it. I believe you left your contact information with my secretary?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then I will undoubtedly contact you in the coming days and inform you on my decision. There are a lot of factors involved, you see. Factors that vary in complexity and constituency. Rest assured I will attempt to deliver a positive result of our transaction.”

 

Al rose and so did the Ithorian. The Ithorian left, glad at having his deal worked out. As soon as he left, Al sat at his computer and brought the local security online. He had a pleased grin on his face, an eccentric smirk that adorned his face every time he had stumbled across a brilliant opportunity. He accessed his security records and watched the entire conversation again, proud at having recently installed his new security system.

 

The Czerka Class-8 Security Setup Beta had a new feature recently added – Standby Camouflage. The cameras, droids and other devices would appear to be turned off, but they would not cease to work. Al always used this system to maintain a level of calmness and comfort within his clients. Little did they know, however, that they were being perpetually watched.

 

Once the conversation ended, Al called Kyvsa Czerka on his private line. The line never seemed to connect. He identified a problem with his connection. He instead called Ferrnia Turee and asked her for Kyvsa’s other private line, which was routed through Ferrnia’s terminal. After much suspicion, Ferrnia finally allowed him to connect, but the attempt failed as well. The final shot Al Darpin had, was to connect through Jarros’ terminal. Jarros was in a bad mood in the last board meeting and Al knew it quite well. He had been one of the biggest admonishers.

 

Jarros was suspicious as well, but he allowed Al to contact his father. He then stole to a maintenance computer in his closet and rerouted his connection through the maintenance terminal. That way, he can listen to the conversation without letting either end know. He watched as a restless Al waited for the connection to go online. It did at last and Al’s face lit up like an ion engine.

 

“Mr. Czerka! Got fantastic news for you!”

 

Senior Czerka’s end was hazy and filled with static, but it straightened out eventually.

 

“What is it? What’s with waking me up in the middle of…”

 

“Dolomiri is tying to sell us spice!”

 

“What?” Kyvsa asked, alarmed at the midnight surprise.

 

“He sent an Ithorian, who cooked up a silly story about some… never mind that. He tried to sell enough spice to fill a Trunk-Class Cargo!”

 

“What did you do?”

 

“I told him I’ll consider. I say we report this, I have a video.”

 

“That won’t be concrete. It’ll take ages to get ‘im. Dolomiri is one slimy…”

 

“Well, there’s a holovideo and numerous references to us being poor and all.”

“No. But it’s a stalemate.”

 

“Precisely. Its us or him. If we catch him, we may or may not win. But, if we buy the deal, he gets a shot at us. He’ll report it to the Republic and…”

 

“And if we don’t do anything?”

 

“I’ve been thinking about that. If we don’t do anything, he’ll keep pestering us for it. Sometime he will make a mistake.”

 

Kyvsa considered the statement.

 

“If we can prove that Dolomiri possesses this stuff…” he uttered.

 

“We’ll be booked under corporate espionage, trespassing and numerous other stuff. Remember what happened last time?”

 

“But if we dig out the link to the Mandalorians and Dolomiri… with an external media, and add this news…”

 

“It’s a bomb.”

 

“Nice. Send your spies out. Send that girl, Jarros’ girlfriend. She’s used to this stuff.”

 

“Alright. No blunders like last time.”

 

After some more formal discussion, Al cut the conversation with a satisfied grin.

 

Jarros on the other hand, had found yet another idea. His brain was cooking up a remarkable plan to get back at his competitors. To rescue Czerka’s glory. To rescue his glory.

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Sabretooth Newbie

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This chapter rocked, like all the others, it shows the way of how the Exchange, Czerka and such, work. I wonder if this fic will have any cameos of sort.

 

Ooh, there are plenty of cameos, from key players in KotOR to the more obscure characters. This is just the beginning!

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The CCS-43 Trunk-Class Cargo Ship slid into the Dolomiri warehouse hangar, its magnificent wings retracting to fit through the hangar’s diagonal entrance, which connected the wall to the ceiling. The CCS was a sturdy ship, a little larger than a light cruiser. It had hardly any space for crew quarters or other such unnecessary rooms. Most of its space was devoted to cargo and load. The CCS was developed by Dolomiri, who had stolen plans from Czerka and modified them. Dolomiri released the CCS as early as possible, thereby eliminating competition from Czerka, until Czerka came up with the larger Chest-Class ships.

 

The CCS was fuel-efficient. It worked like a giant hovercraft, with two massive fans on its belly. The fans gave it massive life and manoeuvrability. The downside was that the CCS was not equipped with jets, ion drives or hyperdrives, which meant that it was virtually useless in space. The CCS was used for local transport operations, where harsh or uneven conditions were normal, or where speed was a necessity. The Chest-Class, a much larger version of the CCS-43, included three large ion drives, which gave it functionality in space.

 

The CCS settled on the ground and its huge fans slowed down to a gradual halt. The hangar workers, an assorted collection of aliens from all across the galaxy surrounded the craft. They began unloading all sorts of goods from the ship, mostly scavenged material from Raxus Prime that would be used as recycle material for Dolomiri products.

 

That was when one of the Weequay spotted an unusual shape hugging the side of the CCS. The perplexed alien alerted the workers, who all surrounded the shape. It was then that the shape suddenly detached itself from the craft and gracefully landed on the metal floor. Soon enough, one of the more terrified Rodians recognized the demon, clothed in a majestic cape and a sleek helmet. He took a few steps back and nervously dropped his vacuum gun.

 

“Ancete!” he shrieked.

 

Ancete surveyed the scene and smiled at the Rodian. It was the same Rodian he had met at the Corvinia Prime. He could recognize him by the blackened mark near the Rodian’s bulbous eye.

 

“Bad choice for a job.” Ancete remarked.

 

While most aliens kept their distance, a pair of Devaronians nervously approached him.

 

“We don’t how you survived a right just embracing the ship… but you should not be here.” One of the Devaronians said.

 

“Really? Why is that?”

 

“You’re… out of protocol. Not authorized, I mean. You see, we’re the Junior-level hangar supervisors and…”

 

“And you’ll what? Book me to Coruscant's authorities? Dolomiri security?”

 

“Yeah, the security department will deal with you.” The Devaronian answered, as his companion nudged him to shut up.

 

“Look, I’m not interested. I’ve got stuff to take, and I’m going with it. You got a problem with that?”

 

The Devaronian didn’t say anything, but he took out his comlink from his uniform and turned it on. Ancete noted the whimpers of his companion to keep it low and let Ancete pass. As soon as the Devaronian was about to hit the switch, a white blade cut through his hand, chopping off his wrist. He jerked back and looked at Ancete, who was flourishing his teal-bladed lightsaber.

 

Almost instantly, chaos spread through the hangar as the workers dispersed, their screams and voices drowning out all other audible sounds. Ancete walked calmly towards the observation window, opposite to the ship. It jutted out from the ceiling and was connected to the wall as well. Inside, Ancete spotted a puzzled man in Dolomiri uniform, reviewing his console.

 

Ancete flexed his aggrandized muscles and decided to test his newfound implants. He switched his suit to hyper-movement mode and made a sudden leap towards the window. It was an insanely high jump, and many of the workers watched in amassed wonder. Ancete stuck to the window with his vacuum-powered soles and used his lightsaber to carve a hole in the window. He broke it open and barged in, toppling over the befuddled officer.

 

“I take it you are the Senior-level hangar supervision authority?” Ancete asked mockingly.

 

“Yes.” The man answered after a fearful pause.

 

“Pleased to know you.” Ancete greeted, and in a swift stroke, he beheaded the supervisor with his lightsaber and kicked him away.

 

He then turned to the console, which had activated a Hangar-Level alarm. Ancete sounded a higher alarm, raising security concerns in nearby hangars as well, so as to make it look like a drill, or a large raid. He tried accessing the primary security console, but the system was absolutely isolated from the primary computer hub.

 

The Dolomiri warehouses were a pinnacle of the Dolomiri organization process. One Main Control office, occupying the top level of the warehouse controlled a series of Halls. These halls each controlled numerous sub-levels, eventually ending in Arcs and Hangars. There were around two hundred hangars in each of the ten great Dolomiri warehouses on Coruscant.

 

Ancete then opened the door connecting the office to the “Arc” a semicircular corridor connecting half a dozen hangars. As he had expected, the Arc was teeming with the beefed-up security. Security droids lined the walls and battery of security personnel stood in a strict discipline. As soon as Ancete entered, he was confronted by a mature, well-built human. From his name tag, Ancete identified him as the security officer controlling a number of arcs.

 

“Alright, weirdo. I have no idea how you breached this hangar without spoiling your night gown, but you’re coming with me.”

 

“Get out of my way and I won’t hurt you.” Ancete commanded.

 

“No, you don’t get it, do you? You’re the one trespassing. You’re the one going to prison, punk.”

 

Ancete surveyed the scene. The security droids and personnel were armed with weaponry and would fire in an instant. It was not a battle to be fought.

“What’re you looking at?” the officer asked.

 

“I’ll come with you, but tell your men to keep the guns low.”

 

The officer was suspicious. He motioned his arm to his men to lower their guns and stared Ancete in the eye.

 

“Who’re you?” he asked.

 

“A spy. But I can see that Dolomiri is willing to offer more money than my client… Care to make a trade?”

 

“Bribe, is it?” the officer jeered.

 

“No, not bribe. Take me to the control officer.”

 

“I’m sorry, but I’ll try to contact him. Follow me.”

 

He turned around and marched to the arc door. Ancete noticed that he was surrounded by security. As soon as he was three metres near the door, he jumped suddenly, inviting a torrent of blaster fire from the accurate droids. His cape took the shots, which was one of the reasons he used his cape. The cape functioned like a flexible shield, since laser fire never penetrated beyond an object already hit. The cape seared and blackened, but by the time the security guards realised what was happening, Ancete had passed the door and locked it.

 

Ancete then manipulated the controls for the door and caused it to malfunction, preventing it from opening even if sliced. He slipped a thermal detonator from his armour and wedged it into a fissure on the door. It was set on safety mode, which meant it would only detonate if damaged. This set-up meant that if the security has a plasma torch, or any other breaching equipment, it would result in a deadly explosion, shrinking the army. Ancete then slapped on his stealth generator and stepped to wall, discarding his cape and lodging it in the door.

 

After arduously and stealthily escaping gazes of dozens of people, Ancete found a common room and entered it. He entered a closet and disabled his stealth generator. A monotonous beep signified that the batteries had gone down. Ancete locked the closet, just to be safe, although he had spotted no more than a couple of fatigued workers. He dimmed the closet’s lights and turned on his holographic map. In its ethereal blue glow, he traced his location and made his way to his intended Hangar. He accessed the room summary which clearly stated that an unknown freighter was docked in the hangar. His informer was right one more time.

 

 

 

In Hangar DD-876 was docked a large CCS-94 Chest-Class Cargo Cruiser. It resembled the CCS-43 in many ways, but was more than double its size. It had the large, drooping wings of the CCS, as well as the unusually stout fuselage, mini-bridge cockpit, five large fans for planetary travel and three large ion drives for interplanetary travel. It hovered in the air, creating a shallow hurricane on the metal floor of the hangar. The hangar itself was empty, and all sound was inundated by the loud droning of the cargo ship.

Ancete surveyed the ship from a supervision dock above. He turned to the console and disabled the ship’s communications and locked down the hangar. Fortunately for him, the identity and the whereabouts of the ship, as well all activity in the hangar were classified confidential. But confidentiality worked both ways, as Ancete knew all too well. He then sent an aviation assistant droid into the hangar and asked him to signal the ship to extend the loading ramp. The droid did his job and the ship vacillated, before letting down its ramp.

 

Realising that the lockdown was in effect, Ancete tore through the glass wall of the supervision window and crashed onto the ship. His implants did a good job of absorbing the landing shock. He felt almost like a machine, as if he was a droid. As if he was a cyborg.

 

He landed on the ramp and charged his way through the passageway, which stuck to the edges of the fuselage, like a vein. He opened the door to the cockpit and locked it as soon as he entered. The cockpit had two seats and a beautiful, 180-degree view. The cockpit was very spacious, too, as if reflecting the ship as a whole.

 

Both pilots appeared to be salty mercenaries. Ancete stepped up to them and greeted them with a polite and ironic smile.

 

“Hello, gentlemen. Where might you be heading?”

 

The pilots eyed Ancete and attempted contacting the supervision in vain. And then they asked Ancete who hew was and how he got here. Ancete always hated it when he was asked such questions. He took it a personal insult that his progress so far and his first impressions weren’t enough to intimidate the other person. He always had a penchant for Calo Nord, who exhibited similar behaviour.

 

That was when the door behind him opened suddenly, against Ancete’s expectation. He turned around to see a blonde, female human. She was relatively tall, wearing a gadget-enhanced suit of armour, and had a slender frame. She was surrounded by two brusque Gamorreans and a host of mercenaries behind her. Ancete could sense that her intentions conflicted with his. He backflipped, overtaking a pilot and grabbed him. He ignited his lightsaber and positioned it against his neck, motioning the other pilot to lay low.

 

The blonde mercenary grasped his plan. He meant to kill the pilot if she didn’t back off. She only raised her pistol and aimed at Ancete with both hands.

“The great Ancete resorting to hostage techniques? How very disappointing. I’m not working for Dolomiri, you know.”

 

“Step away, Selven.” Ancete commanded, a cold look in his eyes reflecting the mercenary.

 

“Not this time.”

 

This irritated Ancete. He instantly beheaded the pilot, much to the horror of the other pilot. Selven watched unaffectedly.

 

“This is my shipment now, Ancete. You won’t survive. This ship is surrounded.”

 

Ancete glanced out the window. There was almost an army of mercenaries and guns-for-hire around the ship, armed to the teeth with a variety of weapons. As soon as he looked back at Selven, he realised his mistake. A high-power tranquilizer penetrated his forehead and a trickle of blood escaped. Before he could start the toxin-purge systems in his implants, he began to feel dizzy. The feeling was aggravated when several non-lethal grenades exploded around him and he finally fell unconscious, after a devastating strike to the head by a Gamorrean War Axe.

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Jarros played with his food, a strip of noodle-like delicacy from the Corellian Cuisine. He was in an expensive restaurant, alone with Selven in a private room. A wall-spanning window displayed Coruscant’s sun, a few hours away from sunset. Jarros slurped up a strand and looked out of the window. Selven watched him, his handsome face reflecting Coruscant’s sun. He had very boyish looks, a well-groomed appearance and an emerging stubble. His face was well-cut, his eyes blue and his hair dark blonde, which had often made him one of the most envied celebrities on Coruscant.

 

“How did it go?” Jarros asked, sucking a noodle.

 

“How did what go?” Selven asked back, not raising her head from her food.

“The warehouse mission?”

 

Selven didn’t jerk, as Jarros had expected, but he almost spotted a twinkling of surprise in her eyes.

 

“You know about it?”

 

“Of course. I tapped the line between Al and my father. And later yours. Al was a fool to contact through me.”

 

“I thought so.”

 

“Well, how did it go?”

 

“Turns out that weirdo Ancete was onto the same shipment. Mafia vendetta? I don’t know. I had him captured.”

 

This got Jarros’ attention.

 

“Where is he?” he asked.

 

“Dolomiri captured him. I escaped. He didn’t suspect a Czerka job, apparently.”

 

“Apparent, seeing how he willing sold it to us. He flew it to Raxus Prime, then to Corellia, Chandrila, Ithor and finally back here. He doesn’t want anybody watching.”

 

“What have you done with it?”

 

“I’m keeping it till my father comes.” Jarros lied. He had another idea up his sleeve.

 

“Smart. Keep it covert, though. You’ve been tagged.”

 

“Of course. Dolomiri has an open shot at us. But time will see.”

 

Jarros’ mind drifted away for a while, but his chain of thoughts eventually came back to his love, Selven. Selven was a mercenary, a high-profile one, who had, in her early years botched up an attempt to capture a disguised black market dealer. At the time, she had been hired by Senior Czerka, and it was Jarros, who ended up bashing the dealer and saving Selven. Selven never argued over whether she would have held out on her own, but she eventually took up a liking for Jarros. The two then began meeting, earlier periodically and then on regular dates.

 

It had all been fun, till the moment Jarros was passed the responsibility of managing the Czerka Corporation. The responsibility fell like a burden on Jarros’ raw shoulders, and he became frustrated, gloomy and eccentric. His meetings with Selven had turned into boring affairs over fine dining in one of Coruscant’s most expensive restaurants. He always found solace in Selven’s presence and was deeply attracted towards her. He even dreamed of marrying her one day, when he had a great Corporate Empire at his heels. But in his growing depression, he had begun to believe that this is only a broken dream, an ambition that he will never achieve.

 

Davik Kang was watching the Taris Lower City Swoop Bike Championship on his surround-hologram viewer. The helmet he wore rendered realistic images of swoop bikes zooming by. He grinned as his favourite racer completed his lap. A soft ringing announced the short break to be taken in the game, and Davik disabled his helmet and kept it aside. Scratching his stubble, he eyed the humble Duros worker who stood before him with a mobile holocom. The Duros was weary, and he got to work immediately on the holocom.

 

Davik impatiently checked the time repeatedly as the holocom loaded and connected to the signal he was receiving. The signal was coming from Coruscant, and Davik judged by the communication’s quality that it was being broadcasted from a high-end holocom. On the other end of the holocom was a youth, handsome and having an affluent form. It took a while for Davik to recognize the youth as Jarros Czerka.

 

“I trust I have not interrupted you, Mr. Kang.” Jarros began, ratifying his most professional accent.

 

“I’ll give you half the time it takes to finish a swoop bike game break. Talk, kid.”

 

Jarros cleared his throat and began. “It fell upon my ears that one of your most elite agents, Ancete has been captured by the Dolomiri Corporation. I believe it is a matter more than some ordinary corporate espionage. I have received a shipment from the Dolomiri Corporation recently, which contains a large amount of, well, spice.”

 

Davik’s eyebrow rose, a sign that he had taken interest. Yet, Davik was very fraudulent. He could smell out traps from a distance and effectively evade them, though many credited this skill to Ancete.

 

“Being a corporation of great cachet, Czerka is not interested in dealing with this spice, especially with black market operators. We are planning on revealing this scam to the Republic. I am sure that unauthorized dealing of illegal spices is quite against Republic Trade Regulations.”

 

“Stop talking in circles, and tell me what you’re planning.”

 

Afraid of exhibiting his gaucherie, Jarros searched for words.

 

“Your agent, Ancete will be released, if we reveal this scam. We have plenty of evidence to prove Dolomiri guilty and we can, well, tweak certain sections. But we will do this only with your consent, Mr. Kang.”

 

Davik smiled and leaned back. He then chuckled dryly and sat lavishly amused at Jarros.

 

“My consent! You are despicable, you kath hound. Even your father…”

 

“Mr. Kang, please. This is a mutually beneficial deal. We will vindicate Ancete and destroy Czerka, but we… request your friendship.”

 

Davik turned serious. He knew that people would ask for his friendship, if they wanted something. And Davik would collect on his friendship, whenever he wanted. This seemingly naïve concept, was actually a grisly and grim affair, which was common in the numerous Godfathers of the galactic underworld. Davik knew that Jarros was seeking an alliance with The Exchange. He wanted to get into the mafia, and he couldn’t decide whether this was a good thing or not.

 

“Mr. Kang, your swoop bikes are revving up. I want an answer.”

 

Davik nodded slowly. The deal was tempting, and he could foresee no problems. He wished Ancete had been here to help him with the decision, though. Ancete’s mind was said to accurately work out complications in every deal Davik accepted. Davik decided that his first priority will be to get Ancete back, who can help him get out of any mess he creates.

 

He finally nodded and accepted the deal.

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Ancete had been taken prisoner, for corporate espionage. Dolomiri, whose brushes with the Republic were brief at best, had a special research facility at Corellia, which was often the source of some of their most cutting-edge innovations. The facility, however, was more than a collection of labs. Under the layer of scientist dormitories, labs and recreation hubs was a series of private prisons, where spies, defectors and other such infidels were locked up. The prisons were sanctioned by the Corellian Building Authority as “holding cells”, most likely for “antisocial elements”, “research specimens” and “research equipment”. This idea was not of Dolomiri origin, however. The concept of allowing corporations to deal their own brand of justice goes back to corporations back in the days of the Republic’s expansion. Czerka were an active player in this as well.

 

Ancete was locked in a room-sized cell, sparsely furnished by four granite ledges, which served as beds, and a small round table. The cell was relatively bright and the door was sealed by a wall of red laser, impenetrable and injurious. Ancete sat on his bed, having nothing more to do. In front of him was a Jedi Knight, wearing an orange-black suit. The Jedi was bald, his face calm, with a hint of rapturous hatred. He was meditating with his legs folded most of the time, or observing the world with his earthy-tinged eyes. The Jedi had introduced himself as Malak when Ancete was first ushered into the cell.

Ancete had heard of Malak. He was supposedly the great Jedi leader Revan’s closest ally and possibly a confidante. Ancete always thought that Revan’s approach to problems was systematic and holistic in nature, where Revan considered every point of the given situation, and pondered over which solution would be the most beneficent in a given situation, and in the future. He had an uncanny ability of sewing up everything he knows, sees and hears into a tapestry of the future. Revan analyzes how his solution would have repercussions on this tapestry and then sews the part in.

 

Malak’s approach was more brutish and one-minded. Malak was hasty and more time-conscious than Revan. His solutions were influenced and often the solutions themselves were suggested by his subordinates, on whom he depended so very heavily. Malak was a formidable foe, nevertheless. He was strong in the Force and skilled in the lightsaber. He was better off than many of the Jedi in the Order and many even suspected an unusual Force Bong between the two friends.

 

“Atypical to see such a noted Jedi Knight a victim of petty corporate incarceration.” Ancete said, finally breaking the ice.

 

The Jedi sat silent for a while, and without opening his eyes his said, “Atypical to see such a great mastermind in the same position.”

 

“You humble me, master Jedi. I am but lowly scum.” Ancete replied sarcastically.

 

“I was investigating Mandalorian connections with the Dolomiri Corporation. Revan personally asked me take up his find. He knows that I… might take a while.” Malak’s eyes were wide open by now.

 

“And what did you find?” Ancete asked.

 

“Some of the weaponry used in recent Mandalorian battles had IDs with binary data loosely similar to the data of armaments Dolomiri makes. After some undercover work, we realised that we could be going onto something more. But Dolomiri covers his tracks well, and the information we find keeps varying in authenticity. The Republic General, a Jedi suggested that this is a job for a Jedi.”

 

“My word won’t stand as any valid evidence, but Dolomiri has his hands in too many things. He sometimes gets on my nerves.” Ancete spoke.

 

“I needed some rest actually, which is why I’m here. Once I’m done with that, an escape is imminent. And you are not coming.”

 

Ancete did not taunt or defend his position. He could escape if he wanted to and it was not necessary for Malak to know that. Ancete instead stroked his pitted horns.

 

“I like you, Ancete. You have such a brilliant mind. We could have used you in the war effort. You would have made a great Jedi.”

 

Ancete did not reply.

 

“Already you can hear the echoes of the Force within you. The way you can telepathically influence someone, or transmit a message is an ability a Jedi can master. I can also sense that you are physically strong and agile, and mentally sharp. You are also tremendously skilled in weaponry – the Force is obviously with you.”

 

“The Force is not mastered only by the Jedi, or the Sith. It is an all-pervading power – it is the God that many civilizations accept. It gives you strength, it empowers you, it fills emotion, it restores balance. It brings life. What the Jedi do is, they rupture this Force and use it like a tool, for their own purposes. How foolish is that?”

 

“As foolish as you meddling in these petty mafia politics that avail to no one save rich crime lords. Think of all the potential you have wasted. The benefit you could have done for the Republic.”

 

“And what would the Republic have done for me?”

 

“What hasn’t it? The reason you can travel between planets freely, without the fear of being killed by a savage race, is the Republic. The reason why this galaxy has any unified economy and autonomy whatsoever is the Republic. The reason why technology is so advanced, the corporate sector so prosperous and relations so peaceful.”

 

“Very peaceful, yes.” Ancete remarked cynically.

 

“Look, would you fancy a war with the Mandalorians, or a chaotic, endless war between each of the galaxy’s religions, cultures, civilizations, worlds and species?”

 

“The question is, Malak, would you fancy a war at all?”

 

Malak took a while to ponder the deviation Ancete made and stared Ancete in the eye. Ancete’s weary red eyes stared back, his long horns pointed straight for Malak.

 

“You could have been such a great Jedi… but it’s all a waste.” Malak finally remarked.

 

“Do you believe in destiny, Malak?”

 

“No.”

 

“I do. Because I can see it. And I see a dark future for you, Malak. And Revan. I see the death of the Jedi, simply because they called for it. Their hypocrisy, their codes, their Council’s horrible decisions. I give you my word, Malak, the Jedi Order is doomed to fall, sooner or later.”

 

“I will not betray my heart, Ancete. The reason I am anything today is the Order. I did not agree with their decision to stay out of the war. They are protectors of the Republic. If it is not our duty to protect it, then whose?”

 

Ancete did not reply. He saw no point in continuing the haphazard conversation anymore. He put his head to the wall and escaped into the freedom in slumber.

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The animated hologram newsreader finally appeared on the disturbed holocom. Her face was more animated than usual, more excited – a common trait when the news was more important than usual.

 

“In tonight’s news round-up, we will look at the incident that has rocked the Republic Corporate Sector quite a bit this week. We are talking about, of course, the treason the Dolomiri Corporation has committed and its subsequent dissolution.

 

The event started when the Republic Trade Regulation Police received a tip-off that the Dolomiri Corporation is dealing with the Mandalorians and dealing in certain illegal materials, specifically spice. As the tip-offs and hints increased in number, the police sent an investigation squad, alongside highly-trained agents, who reported that there has indeed been amicable conversation between the Dolomiri Corporation and the Mandalorians. The Czerka Corporation also surrendered a mysterious stock of spice that had arrived at their warehouse, supposedly from Dolomiri-owned co-ordinates.

 

The spice held identifications and credentials that loosely matched the Dolomiri Warehouse docking codes. It was obvious, then, that Dolomiri has committed several crimes against the Republic. While many members of the Dolomiri Board of Chairmen and several high-ranking officers surrendered and pleaded guilty, the Dolomiri CEO, Lottis Dolomiri is reported missing. The Republic has also issued an arrest warrant for him and the CEO has become a hot target in many Bounty Hunter circles. Some reports indicate that Dolomiri might have escaped into Mandalorian Company.

 

The revelation of Dolomiri’s hidden assets has sparked a massive witch-hunt from the Republic to find other such Corporations that are merely fronts for an illegal entity. The Dolomiri Corporation has had to pay up a huge amount as penalty and several high-ranking officers have been arrested. With its leadership crumbling, several low-level workers for the Dolomiri Corporation have resigned from the company, citing many reasons including breach of trust, hurt of religious sentiments and lack of prospects. With its assets dissolving by the minute, the Dolomiri Corporation is spiralling to a rapid destruction.

 

A standard day ago, the Czerka Corporation announced their grievance for the loss of a great corporation. The CEO of Czerka Corporation, Kyvsa Czerka was cited as claiming that the declining Dolomiri workforce was resulting into an increase in Czerka employment and that the Dolomiri Corporation would be wasted to nothing, sooner or later. In what he claimed was a “cordial gesture”, he offered to buy the Dolomiri Corporation for five billion credits. The Dolomiri Corporation, currently very close to being banned by the Republic agreed.

 

The Czerka Corporation’s size has more than doubled with this merger, resulting in several new assets for Czerka, including several colonies on planets like Kashyyyk, Tatooine, Delpha, Dill Akkhas and more…”

 

The newsreader’s voice trailed away as Ancete shut the holocom.

 

“It is done.” He spoke.

 

Davik Kang, surrounded by two half-naked Twi’Leks grinned at that.

“Czerka owes us a favour. But from what I know of that crook Dolomiri, he’ll have one more blasted card to play. He’s missing, ya hear? And he’s got bleeding friends.”

 

“I know some ways to find him.” Ancete said, “But, I feel he has an insider here, in the Exchange.”

 

“We’ll see. I’m just glad this thing bloody worked, eh?”

 

“Execute Red Polly. We have no need for him.”

 

“Hmm. Alright, whatever. You just take a break. I bet the food sucked in there, eh?”

 

“I didn’t eat.”

 

“Oh. Well, go do something now. I’ve got time to spend…” Davik spoke, his head turning to one of his Twi’Lek slaves.

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