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Slaving Away
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| Lamont_Kruus | Date: Monday, 22 Nov 2010, 4:23 PM | Message # 1 |
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| It was a beautiful late afternoon on Orvax IV. Lamont Kruus and his companions, a Trandoshan and a Hutt, sat around a table enjoying summer drinks on a terrace high over one of the planet's cities, the streets of which, in mere months, would be filled with the festivities of the annual Orvax IV slave market. It was the biggest event in the slave trade, made all the more so because it had been canceled the previous year; as a result, there would be more slaves, more patrons, and more money than ever before. Kruus was determined to be there, and that's what he had come to the planet to discuss. The Trandoshan, Pekt, was a rising figure in the infamous Trandoshan slaver's guild. The Hutt was Ingoda, a diminishing figure, perhaps, in the Hutt Cartel, but a patron of the slave trade with whom Kruus had many dealings. "You can't," Ingoda said to Kruus, shrugging his broad shoulders, "The Zygerrians won't have Separatists here, Lamont. Especially you. And the Zygerrians are too influential, especially with... Jabba." The Hutt had uttered the name of his business rival with contempt, having fallen into debt to Jabba and been compelled to forfeit much of his holdings to him. Ingoda stirred his drink with a tiny, novelty umbrella that he could barely grasp in his stubby fingers as he went on. "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do," he said. "He's right," Pekt snarled. The sight of him cradling a dainty, summer cocktail in his clawed hand would be comical if the Trandoshan didn't have a reputation as a homicidal lunatic. "The damn Zygerrians can shut down the whole event if they want. Then we all take a hit." Kruus said nothing for a moment. He leaned back in his chair, planting his elbows on the arm rests and clasping his hands before him contemplatively. "Gentlemen," he said, "The Zygerrian Slaver's Guild has too much power in this industry." He was speaking to a receptive audience, and he knew it. The Trandoshans, of course, competed with the Zygerrians, and Ingoda, well, there wasn't much he wouldn't do to spite Jabba. "I will bring in 5,000 slaves to the Orvax slave market in three months, and if that means putting the Zygerrians out of business in that time, well, I will do that too." "Put them out of business?" Ingoda laughed. Kruus noticed that Pekt was listening, however. "How would you propose to do that?" the Hutt rumbled. "With your help," Kruus said, glancing at the Trandoshan. "Pekt, it's no secret that you have contacts in the Trandoshan Army. You've put together raiding parties before, and you can do it again. We can shoot our way in with my fleet, and I can gather other former Separatists if need be. I can even provide you with droids to help capture the slaving centers on the planet. And Ingoda, you can finance the operation, and with your Imperial connections you can make sure the Empire doesn't interfere. And they won't, as long as they know the Zygerrian operations will simply be under new management, not destroyed." "Under whose management?" Pekt was quick to ask. "Yours, of course," Kruus assured him. "You know I've always been a friend to the Trandoshans. Besides, I'm a former Separatist; I can't stay in one place for long. By all means, Pekt, you can have Zygerria. You need it more than I do, to... repair your reputation?" Pekt narrowed his eyes at the comment and, it seemed to Kruus, he appeared somehow more reptilian than usual. But he said nothing. It was true. The Trandoshan's credibility had taken a hit when the Wookiees, with the help of the Republic, had sent him running from Kashyyyk in the decade before the Clone Wars. Now that the Republic was gone and the Empire had brought the Trandoshans back to Kashyyyk to run the slaving operations there, Pekt undoubtedly wanted in—and wanted revenge on the Wookiees. Ingoda wasn't convinced. "Looking the other way on a little drug running here and there is one thing," the Hutt said, "But looking away from a former Separatist is a lot to ask of the Empire, Lamont. I don't think a 'change in management' is going to do it; they're going to want something." "The Empire prefers to do business with the Trandoshans," Kruus reminded him, "They'll be pleased to see them in charge on Zygerria." True enough, but it was still a tremendous danger for Kruus (not to mention an unusually bold plan for the typically timid Neimoidian). But he seemed sure of himself and, to be honest, Ingoda and Pekt wouldn't much mind if Kruus was captured by the Empire. Sure, he had been something of a friend to them both and no doubt the Empire would torture him and kill him if they did capture him, but this plan was profitable enough for them that if Kruus was willing to risk his life for it, that was just fine. This was also part of what convinced Ingoda; if a Neimoidian was willing to risk his life on this plan, Ingoda would look rather the coward if he didn't put in. Pekt, of course, relished the opportunity to restore his reputation. That, and to slaughter Zygerrians. His participation was assured. "Can this be done?" the Hutt mused, glancing to them both. Kruus looked at Pekt, then back to Ingoda. "It can," he said, "and it will." Ingoda smiled a broad, chesire cat grin. "Very well," he said. Pekt, the being of few words that he was, merely nodded, and raised his glass reluctantly when the Hutt raised his. "To you, Lamont," Ingoda said, "and your 5,000 slaves on auction at Orvax. To Pekt, and his soon-to-be slaving operation on Zygerria. And to Jabba, who will lose a tidy fortune." Kruus raised his glass, and the three drank to the deal. "We will need those droid forces you promised," Pekt said. "And you will have them," Kruus told the Trandoshan as he reclined comfortably in his lounge chair, beverage in hand. "I know just who to talk to." * * * It had been two weeks and, lamentably, Lamont Kruus had returned to the spartan confines of the Windfall, from the comfort of Orvax IV. He grew weary of this way of life, and hoped that this accommodation would be a temporary one. If his plan came to fruition, he thought, it would be. But for now, the frigate waited patiently in an empty region of space near Karazak—the rendezvous point with General Sthena. The Windfall was waiting patiently, that was. Kruus was not. He didn't have the constitution for this, and he knew it. He never had much of a problem in combat, but it was the waiting that bothered him. Not that he expected combat, of course. He knew Sthena by reputation, mostly, but he had also met him once and found him to be a reasonable being. Not unlike himself, really—except that, to his credit (or, some would say, his detriment), Sthena didn't quit. Ever. The fact that he was still fighting for all these years was a testament to that. But even if Kruus didn't expect combat, he was prepared for it. The Windfall was almost a lightyear from the coordinates he had given to Sthena, and Kruus was positioned to see the General before the General saw him.
Lamont Kruus
Captain of the Windfall
Leader of the Kruus slaving ring
Message edited by Lamont_Kruus - Sunday, 02 Jan 2011, 7:39 PM |
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| General_Sthena | Date: Tuesday, 23 Nov 2010, 9:27 AM | Message # 2 |
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| For the first time in a long time, the General felt something was falling into place, some years-long scheme finally setting itself into motion. Of course, it hadn't been years, merely weeks, and this was hardly a scheme so much as a meeting. But after nine years of hit-and-run attacks on Imperials, nine years of fleeing from system to system, nine years of scavenging ships and resources only to have them vapourised infront of him by the Empire... "No, Sthena you old fool, don't be counting your crop before its been harvested" he chided himself, chuckling smugly. He was alone, aside from the few droids he'd detached from duties. Alone, with nobody in the universe to hear him; it had been that way for too long. Of the few organics remaining in his care, he conversed with none of them beyond what was required to run a tight ship. It didn't make them trust him any less, and he was glad of it, for he preferred his own company these days.
But, as needs must, he now sought to expand that company somewhat. The dire fact was, his fleet had run itself down to a mere three ships. He needed the support of another Separatist, and the fact that it helped bring the fragments of that shattered regime closer together was only a bonus. He travelled not onboard his Destroyer, 'Praetor', the crowning jewel of his once-grand fleet. Instead, he'd opted to leave the fleet and its valuable resources behind at the nearest hyperlane intersection, where it could be called once Sthena had ascertained the reality of the situation. He didn't want to arrive with his fleet, be ambushed by Kruus, and have everything snatched from him. He doubted Kruus would do such a thing; for one thing, the Neimoidian had struck him as a practical being the last time they'd met. Taking everything Sthena had would only give him more to try and manage by himself.
For another thing, Sthena was willing to be open to trust, in order to get the proverbial ball rolling. He'd refused to meet others, such as the shadowy Shiva, on account of their slippery ways. Kruus was the first to have made a direct invitation, a challenge perhaps, to Sthena's integrity and commitment to the cause. And now, in his small and lightly armed shuttle, Sthena intended to answer that invitation. He emerged from hyperspace at the given co-ordinates, and bounced a simple confirmation back to his fleet that he'd arrived and was awaiting contact with Kruus.
"Your move, Kruus" he muttered to himself. His mechanical company didn't even stir.
"The War is not over simply because an old despot proclaims it so.."
Message edited by General_Sthena - Tuesday, 23 Nov 2010, 9:28 AM |
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| Lamont_Kruus | Date: Tuesday, 14 Dec 2010, 1:25 AM | Message # 3 |
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Lieutenant
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| Things were indeed falling into place, Kruus thought to himself as Lieutenant Lorth informed him of the General's arrival. Poor Sthena, essentially alone for all these years. Kruus had the benefit of company—his Neimoidian command crew who, if, perhaps, Kruus didn't trust completely, he could at the least depend on as long as a certain standard of living was maintained on the Windfall. And indeed it was; the slaving operations, as much as Kruus may have lamented them, paid quite well. As a consequence, he and his organic crew lived reasonably well indeed. Even in adverse conditions, they managed to stay informed of the latest news in the galaxy—and the latest Neimoidian fashions, especially miters. Of course, one could forgive Kruus, a being of significantly more discipline than most of his species, for indulging in small pleasures from time to time. He was, after all, a long way from his beloved homeworld, and the small pleasures and, of course, the Separatist cause were all the comfort he had. The Republic, now the Empire, had taken everything else from him. Kruus, coincidentally, had been thinking about his plans with Sthena and, as it happened, luxuriating in a steam room in order to keep a healthy consistency to his skin when Lieutenant Lorth had brought him the news. Within moments, the Captain had clothed himself in one of his finest robes and made his way to the bridge, where communications were established with the General's shuttle. He cleared his throat. "Hello, General Sthena..." * * * "... it pleases me to see you alive and well after all these years," Kruus said again, some moments later, as he and the General ambled down one of the Windfall's spartan corridors. A lone MSE-4 droid, conspicuously out of date by modern standards, guided them in the direction of the ship's observation deck, which had been prepared as a meeting room. The corridors—and the meeting room, for that matter—were deceptively quiet. No security droids could be seen; however, just because they couldn't be seen didn't mean they weren't there. Kruus hadn't managed to outlive most of his peers by being credulous, and even if he was inclined to trust Sthena (he actually meant what he had just said to him), the possibility that the General could try to seize the Windfall for his own fleet did not elude the Neimoidian's consideration. Thus, droids were never far away if and when they were needed. Of course, other assistance wasn't far away either, for that matter. The Windfall, now sitting serenely in the emptiness of space, was nowhere near as alone as it seemed. Of course, neither was Sthena, for that matter. Kruus sat in one of the seats on the observation deck and, with a sweeping gesture of his hand, invited Sthena to do so as well. "I'm grateful to you for coming," he said, "and I will not waste your time. I wish to invite you to participate in a decisive assault"—he emphasized the word that had become, sadly, inconceivable to most of the Separatist remnants of today—"on an Imperial world that will bring considerable profit and publicity for us, and for the cause. Before I go on, General, is this something that you would be interested in?" "The answer to what I suspect you're thinking is yes," Kruus added, "it is possible, with your help."
Lamont Kruus
Captain of the Windfall
Leader of the Kruus slaving ring
Message edited by Lamont_Kruus - Sunday, 02 Jan 2011, 7:39 PM |
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| General_Sthena | Date: Tuesday, 14 Dec 2010, 1:52 AM | Message # 4 |
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| Staff in hand and violet robes flowing ethereally around his lithe form, Sthena listened with genuine interest as he strode gracefully down the corridors of Windfall. The emptiness and the silence weren't lost on him; they reminded him, in some way, of his own ship, Praetor, when she was on standby. But something else was there, a lurking sense of forboding. Naturally, he suspected the Neimoidian had various contingencies in effect, should the good General decide he wanted to fore-go the pleasantries and simply seize the fleet. It was good that Kruus was so concerned, even if his precautions were unnecessary. "It is good to see that not all of our surviving banner-bearers cling to hoods and shadows" he replied, clasping a hand firmly on Kruus's shoulder and giving it a welcome, friendly squeeze. "And yes... it is good to see you alive and well, too" he added. His staff clanged on the floor, punctuating each step, as he allowed himself to be steered toward the observation deck. He sat, propping the altogether-irrelevant staff against the table, careful not to scratch it or let it drop. Luxuries weren't a common find aboard Praetor, and whatever items he could scavenge to make him feel like the noble he thought he ought to be, he'd take. The abruptness of his host's proposal took him by surprise at first, but upon reflection, it only confirmed that he was indeed not dealing with those schemers and plotters out there, who would sit idly by and allow the Confederacy to slip even further into obscurity while twisting and turning around minor details and elaborate plans.
"It truly pleases me to feel as though I've entered into a meeting with somebody who is willing to get things done" he said, relief showing in his voice. His skin colour briefly filtered into a pale turquoise, then flushed green again as he leaned forward eagerly, propping he elbows on the table in a fashion unbefitting the regal air he usually radiated.
"Oh, I don't doubt that it would be possible. If it wasn't, you wouldn't have even brought it up, dear man" he chuckled. He knew enough of Neimoidians to know that they wouldn't make an arrangement if there was a chance it wouldn't be profitable for them, whether that profit lay in credits or victory. Thankfully, he knew enough of Kruus to believe the other man was more interested in the latter. "Yes, I will gladly commit my ships to this cause. We shall discuss details momentarily, but first..."
He depressed a switch embedded in his gilded bracer, and spoke into the concealed comm. "Praetor, this is Sthena. You're cleared to approach, stand-down high alert" he ordered. "There" he said, turning again to his host. "I'm sure you'll understand why my vessels were on high alert. Just a precautionary matter. They'll be here to join with your fleet momentarily".
"The War is not over simply because an old despot proclaims it so.."
Message edited by General_Sthena - Tuesday, 14 Dec 2010, 1:52 AM |
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| Lamont_Kruus | Date: Sunday, 02 Jan 2011, 9:04 PM | Message # 5 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
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| And indeed they were. The Windfall's observation deck made an appropriate setting as the General's fleet arrived in all of its splendor—splendor from another era, perhaps, but not at all diminished by the years. Kruus felt a sense of pride and, above all, a sense of nostalgia as he rotated his chair to face out the spacious viewports. Seeing another Munificent-class, and the nearly forgotten contours of the Recusant-class, and, of course, the unforgettable spear shape of the Providence-class returned the Neimoidian to the days of the war when things were possible. Great things. He hadn't felt this sense of possibility since that time, throughout the long decade that Kruus had survived in obscurity. Yes, things were coming into place. "I am pleased to see it," Kruus said, rotating his seat to face the General once more. "And now," he added, "Let us put it, and the Windfall, to good use." A TC-14 protocol droid ambled into the room with tray of tea, and set it down beside them. Kruus nodded to the droid, which bowed in turn and left the room as Kruus helped himself to a cup. "What I propose is this," he told the General. What followed was a detailed accounting of his plan to assault Zygerria (with many of the details left to what Kruus admitted to be the superior tactical expertise of the General). The basic plan, though, called for the combined forces of Sthena and Kruus to blockade the planet while his Trandoshan friends, supplemented by droid forces and under the advice of Sthena, conducted simultaneous raids on the Zygerrian slave infrastructure, the objective being to capture it, rather than destroy it. The Trandoshans, Kruus told Sthena, had assured him they were able to do this (with adequate support). But what about Imperial reinforcements? If the operation happened fast enough, Kruus explained, and if it was the Trandoshans, not the Separatists, who took possession of the slaving infrastructure, the Empire wouldn't care. "I am certain of this," Kruus told him, without elaborating. He also explained how Ingoda the Hutt was willing to finance them for fuel, repairs, etc. "You might well be wondering," Kruus went on, "'Why should we do this dirty work for Trandoshans and Hutts with nothing to show for it ourselves?' 'How does this benefit us?' You would be right to wonder, General, and you would be right to call it 'dirty work,' too. I was involved in slaving for the Confederacy and I am involved in it still. But it is not what it once was," he lamented, "With the rise of this so called 'Human High Culture,' I have seen more beings like you and I, Neimoidians and Falleen, turning up in slave auctions." He felt a shiver advance upon him, and shook his head. "I want to get out of this business, General. Slaving was a part of the Confederacy, but it wasn't what the Confederacy was about. I want to get back to what it was about." "I'm sorry to ramble," he said apologetically, then furrowed his brow gravely as he explained, "At this time I still have some 5,000 slaves in my possession. With the Zygerrians out of the way, I can sell them at Orvax IV in a month's time. All of them, General. 'Cash out' of the business, as the Muuns say. And in doing so, I—we—can bring a tremendous amount of money into our cause. A tremendous amount. Think of it, General. Enough money to fix our ships, to buy new ships, to recruit! Make no mistake, the news of our victory will be a recruiting tool for us, one that the other Separatist 'remnants' do not have. We will no longer even be 'remnants.' We will have resources, respect, and most importantly," he paused, "A second chance." He let the words linger for a moment. Surely Sthena, who had lost so much of his fleet before his own eyes, would be sympathetic to this. Another chance is what every Separatist wanted. Another chance to do it right, this time without duplicitous Sith Lords or incompetent bureaucrats. "But I don't have the stomach to do this without you, I'm afraid," Kruus said, candidly, "Or the tactical expertise. I am but a Captain, after all. What do you say, General? Are you willing to command this operation? I fear it cannot succeed without you."
Lamont Kruus
Captain of the Windfall
Leader of the Kruus slaving ring
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| General_Sthena | Date: Wednesday, 12 Jan 2011, 12:45 PM | Message # 6 |
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| Sthena was silent during his partners elaboration, and remained silent for an unsettling minute after. He sat with his fingers steepled before him, his drink untouched, his gaze set on the Neimoidian. He was unreadable, for all intents and purposes, aside from the calm green sheen that had washed over his visible skin.
Finally, he spoke. "I am a being capable of seeing a means to an end, and I can appreciate that even in the most obscure plans there lies a goldmine waiting to be exploited" he said, serenely. "If, as you say, this well thought-out plan will bear fruit which will enable us to take a more direct stance against our Imperial foe, then I am all for it. However..." he let the word ring out and linger, while he took a sip from his refreshment. He smacked his lips and nodded appraisingly at his half-drained glass.
"However, I am wondering how you can be sure the Empire will care little enough about Zygerria to intervene. I know the system is out of Imperial jurisdiction, but the Empire has been taking an alarming interest in Outer Rim activities of late, and these actions could well be deemed piratical enough to call in a Star Destroyer or two" he said, already thinking as he spoke.
He drained his glass, and set it on the table quietly, regarding Kruus thoughtfully.
"Would it be possible to get the Trandoshans in place before the event?" he asked. "Have them infiltrate Zygerria so that when the moment arrives, they are already situated near their objective, and poised to raid said slave infrastructures. The droid reinforcements can be set down as soon as we establish blockade procedures, and the whole ugly operation can be over before the Empire even gets a sniff of what's happening". He knew it seemed a rash suggestion, but even if rebuked, he wanted to be certain that all areas were accounted for before committing his ships to this plan. It seemed sound, other than the haphazardous faith in the Empire to not intervene.
"The War is not over simply because an old despot proclaims it so.."
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| Lamont_Kruus | Date: Sunday, 15 Jan 2012, 2:49 PM | Message # 7 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
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| Quote (Lamont_Kruus) The basic plan, though, called for the combined forces of Sthena and Kruus to blockade the planet while his Trandoshan friends, supplemented by droid forces and under the advice of Sthena, conducted simultaneous raids on the Zygerrian slave infrastructure, the objective being to capture it, rather than destroy it. The Trandoshans, Kruus told Sthena, had assured him they were able to do this (with adequate support). But what about Imperial reinforcements? If the operation happened fast enough, Kruus explained, and if it was the Trandoshans, not the Separatists, who took possession of the slaving infrastructure, the Empire wouldn't care. "I am certain of this," Kruus told him, without elaborating.
* * *
Kruus stood frozen on the bridge of Sthena's destroyer, the Praetor, his compound eyes wide. He let out the breath he forgot he'd been holding, and the acrid smell of smoke flooded into his nostrils. He cleared his throat, interrupting the long moment of silence on the bridge since the firing had stopped. Kruus looked at General Sthena, crumpled on the floor amid his ornate robes, as if to assure himself that he'd succeeded in stunning him. He had, but it hadn't been tidy; the General had planned to betray him too, apparently, and his troop of droids put up a fight. It lasted all of three harrowing seconds, during which Kruus's droids had blasted Sthena's to scrap. Standing in the middle of it all, Kruus could have been shot himself. He was petrified, and embarrassed at how blotched his skin must have appeared in that moment (not as if the droids would care).
"Seal off the bridge!" Kruus bellowed once he'd regained his voice. Sthena's bridge crew dutifully complied—after all, Sthena had unwisely made Kruus the Captain of the Praetor. "You," the Neimoidian pointed a lithe finger at a pair of his battle droids, "Stand guard over Sthena. If he moves, stun him again." He handed his stun blaster to one of the droids as he walked past it on his way to his command chair. Once there, he did a quick scan for life signs on the Praetor—searching for the handful of living persons among Sthena's crew, engineers mostly—and isolated their locations. He forwarded them to the droid at the diagnostics station. "Seal these compartments," Kruus ordered it, "And vent the oxygen in those quandrants."
The droid did as it was told without objection, and Kruus leaned back in his command chair with a sigh of relief as, throughout the ship, the air also left the lungs of Sthena's subordinates, but with something less than relief.
"General Ssssthena," came the instantly recognizeable voice of Pekt, the Trandoshan, over the bridge speaker from the planet below.
"This is Kruus," Lamont said, and Pekt instantly understood.
"It isss done," Pekt reported, "We've captured all the major ssslaving transssfer centers. It wasssn't difficult. We're fortifying them now in the event of a Zygerrian counter-offensssive, but thisss is unlikely. We've taken them by sssurprise, as you sssuspected."
That's precisely what Kruus wanted to hear. He looked out the bridge viewport at the smoldering remains of the Zygerrian frigates listing above the Zygerrian planet itself. Sthena had been good; he'd wiped out the Zygerrian ships and seemed to have enjoyed doing so—as the Falleen had been directing the battle only moments before, Kruus couldn't help but notice a glimmer of nostalgia in the General's eyes. Kruus had given General Sthena a fleeting moment of glory he'd not had since the Clone Wars, the 'second chance' he'd promised him. Before he'd shot him, that is. But Kruus felt good about himself for doing something nice for Sthena. It made it easier to take the General's fleet from him, at least.
"Very good, Pekt," Kruus said. "Tell your Trandoshan friends that Zygerria is yours."
"And tell your cussstomers that Ssseparatists will be welcome at Orvax IV thisss year," Pekt replied.
Kruus smiled.
It had all worked out as planned. Pekt had marginalized the Zygerrian Slaving Guild, for the time being at least. This would restore his credibility among the rival Trandoshans and no doubt assure him a leading role in the enslavement of Kashyyyk. Ingoda the Hutt, who had financed the operation, would be pleased to see dividends on his investment and jab a finger in the eye of Jabba in the process. And Kruus no longer had the Zygerrians standing between him and the Orvax IV slave fair, only days from now (and, it so happened, he'd tripled the size of his fleet to fend off any other potential challengers at Orvax—much to their surprise, no doubt).
It was unlikely the Trandoshans would remain in control of Zygerria for long, but it didn't matter. With the coast clear, Kruus intended to deliver his 5,000 slaves to Orvax IV and cash out of the business once and for all, as he'd told Sthena. And that's exactly what he was going to do.
"Take General Sthena to the brig," Kruus ordered, smoothing the creases out of his robe as he regained his composure.
Lamont Kruus
Captain of the Windfall
Leader of the Kruus slaving ring
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