Ask Ballad of Bacteria

[Sah'ra Ryun]

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Why was it that no matter what happened, war always loomed over the galaxy? It was a stupid question, one that Sah’ra heard far too often. It didn’t matter who fired the first shot nor who fired the last. She, they, were Sith. The galaxy and all those in it belonged to them by right of strength alone. Whether they crushed those who opposed them or they were forced to withdraw from the public eye to rebuild and refocus, they could never truly be purged from existence. So long as light remained, so too did the dark.

When the news of the ISC sanctions of fuel and medical supplies became known to the Sith (whilst their people remained in the dark due to the swift actions of the ISB) Sah’ra knew she couldn’t simply sit back and wait to see how things played out. Little had been heard from the Empress since these revelations came to light. The so-called War Master of the Sith, Darth Draugr, had vanished. Plans of refineries being constructed on Kril’Dor and Abafar would alleviate some of the pressure but President Thorne was quick to retaliate and alienated the Sith productions from wider distribution, severely crippling their economy in such a way that hadn’t been seen in years. The Sith leadership were playing checkers whilst Thorne proved to be a master of dejarik. Now it was her turn to play.

”Approaching Verkuyl. Preparing to drop from hyperspace,” Sah’ra spoke calmly to the woman at her side. The Sith had had years to prepare infrastructure to combat endeavors like this and they had done nothing. They had become complacent, reliant on the wider galaxy for resources. Her plan was simple though it would take time to enact. Time she wasn’t sure if they had but leniency had proven their folly thus far. As the tunnel of hyperspace streaked back into stars, the small world of Verkuyl spinning slowly in the distance now in sight, Sah’ra turned to face her selected compatriot for this mission.

”Preferably, we will secure a trade agreement or vows of loyalty from the people of Verkuyl but their compliance is not our primary objective, Amira,” the woman would speak plainly but with purpose. ”The remote location of this world makes trade exceedingly difficult, especially given our current fuel crisis, but if we can secure a large sample of the alazhi bacteria to produce in Sith space, we are one step closer to erasing the needs for outside reliance. I’m sure one as bright as yourself doesn’t need me to explain the importance in this,” she finished with a gentle yet sinister smile.

@llamallove​

 

[Amira Din]

The Independent Systems Consortium, true to its name, had a monopoly on the galaxy's medical substance supply. First Thyferra and its swards of cultivated barley, paired with bacteria and a synthetic chemical to create bacta. Then Manaan, a seat of contestation on the political playing field, where kolto was harvested from the ocean depths by the crate full. The consortium had played their cards right and come up with a royal flush—Thyferra and Manaan.

Wars could not be won without medical supplies, and for the Sith Empire that was a problem. Their soldiers on the frontlines needed medical supplies, and so did ISB agents working behind the scenes, and so did every Sith citizen that had sworn their allegiance to the red and black flag. Amira had made promises to some of those very citizens—assurances of a better life within the Empire, and now those promises were failing right and left. That did not sit well with her.

The ISC could drag this war out for years, with the Empire always on the back foot, scrambling for supplies and resources to meet the demands of their people and the government's war machine. Victory could be theirs, simply by out-producing the Empire, and that was why the Champions Ryun and Din had come to Verykuyl. To fix the Empire's supply chain crisis, at least in part. Specifically, to search out an alternative bacta supply that didn't involve groveling at the feet of Emryc Thorne. The fuel crisis, the hyperlane crisis, and the ordnance crisis were difficulties for another today.

"The line between disorder and order lies in logistics," the Tiefling replied, quoting an ancient military strategist. One of many that Master Roth had adhered to. Since when had compliance ever been the primary objective of the Sith Empire? The Champions had a job to do, and they would see it through to the end. The Empire was counting on them.
Amber eyes stared out of the Sith shuttle's viewport. The Dalos Peninsula, surrounded on three sides by an ocean that stretched on for thousands of miles, appeared shortly after they exited hyperspace. "We won't fail," the Champion stated, looking over at Sah'ra Ryun. The subtle, sinister smile that spread across the woman's face assured Amira that she shared in her outward confidence. So why was her stomach tense?

The peninsula was the planet's primary nerve center, both for worker's housing and headquarters for the business executives and tradesmen that bossed the workers around. If the Champions wanted to secure a trade agreement, this was exactly where they needed to be. If negotiations were out of the questionl, then they would secure a sample of the alazhi bacteria sample instead. By any means necessary. @Tulos

 

[Sah'ra Ryun]

As their shuttle’s landing struts touched down, plumes of steam being thrown from the numerous vents along her underbelly, Sah’ra would be the first to set foot on this remote world’s surface as she took in everything before her. The heat already began to cause her to glisten with sweat, a momentary lapse in composure forcing a scowl to form on the woman’s face. How she loathed worlds such as this, muggy and filled with plebeian working class folk. In the distance away from the shuttle port, the city was much as she had expected. Buildings no taller than five stories could be seen. The streets weren’t the pristine and manicured thoroughfares of Coruscant but they were well maintained, all the same.

”Shall we? The sooner we accomplish our task, the sooner we can return to the comfort of the ship,” Sah’ra queried her partner, already prepared for their departure.

*****************

In a conference room within a building that overlooked the ocean, five well dressed executives were seated on one end of a table by the windows with a small group of representatives of the largest farming families on the opposite end closest to the door. The distinction could not be any clearer. Despite their best efforts, one would need to be blind to not differentiate the two groups.

“The sanctions of the Consortium have provided a wonderful opportunity for your families, Kegar. If we increase production, we can establish a working relationship with the Sith Empire that will fill all of our coffers,” one of the well tailored men stated, fingers interlocked as he stared deeply into the eyes of the commoners across from him. Kegar, however, was far less enthusiastic about this new proposition.

“Aye, but I ain’t keen on painting a target on Verkuyl and our families neither!” he shot back with venom in his voice, the expressions of his colleagues demonstrating their solidarity with the most vocal member. “Workin’ with them Imperials comes with great risk! And if the Consortium decides to meddle in your little ‘deal’, we all pay the price! And wha' about the economy of the Empire? How long can they afford to maintain this agreement when they're wagin' a war? A war they're losin'!”

Silence was deafening when one was dealing with rich and powerful men and in this particular chamber, it was practically booming. Daggers were thrown from the eyes of the elite in Kegar’s direction but the man would not back down, though some of those at his back became squeamish. The silence was only cut off as a skeletal protocol droid entered.

“Master Donatalu, the representatives from the Sith Empire have arrived. Shall I see them in?”

“Yes. Yes, immediately, L4,” Donatalu replied from his place at the head of the table, his icy glare returning to Kegar and the other family representatives. “This deal will go through with or without your support, Kegar. I recommend you get on board immediately,”

@llamallove​

 

[Amira Din]

"Heat getting to ya?" Amira asked, lips tugging into a wide grin. Some of the Tiefling woman's Bandomeerian accent bled into her voice, in spite of the years of conditioning Master Roth had subjected her to. The uncharacteristic break in Sah'ra Ryun's practiced composure had not gone unnoticed. Their acquaintance was short, limited to their ISB briefing prior to this assignment and subsequent confinement to the Sith shuttle, but Amira had already pegged the Champion as a woman that liked order. Structure. To be in control at all times, of all things.
Thanks to the Tiefling's Devaronian heritage somewhere back along the line, Amira's obsidian skin wasn't just for looks—although it certainly was that. It was immune to fire and extremely high temperatures. Verkuyl's humid climate didn't phase her, dressed predominantly in black, in the least. No hood was pulled over her head or mask worn to hide her identity, the sigil of the Sith Empire worn proudly on each shoulder. There was no doubt regarding the identities or the allegiances of the two women that strode into the office building like they owned the place.

Nor were they kept waiting long.

A protocol droid showed them into a conference room on the ninth floor. A long mahogany table sat in the middle of the room, in front of a row of window panes that overlooked the eastern seashore of the peninsula, where seagulls dove for fish and waves lapped at the bluffs. Hushed silence fell over the room as soon as the Sith were shown in, every pair of eyes glued to two women, as if they expected the force wielders to perform some miraculous feat of power or to say something clever. Amira would provide neither just yet.

It was one of the men dressed in a suit, dark hair slicked back with too much gel, that first broke the uncomfortable silence. "Thank you for joining us. Won't you—won't you be seated?" he offered, gesturing toward two empty seats situated between the businessmen and the farmers. Amira accepted, sitting down in the chair closest to the farmers. She'd never felt at home with stuffed shirts. "Can I offer you some refreshment? Some caf, perhaps?"

Before either Champion could accept or decline the offer, one of the farmers would speak up. "We didn't come here for no tea par'y and vittles!" He slammed a worn, calloused hand down on the table, his jaw set tight and his brow creased with determination as he shot up out of his chair. "We gon' talk or ain't we?"

"Sit back down, Roscoe!" Donatula moaned, dragging a hand through his greasy hair.

One thing was certain—the Sith Champions had walked in on a very virulent situation. @Tulos

 

[Sah'ra Ryun]

Sah’ra’s tongue pressed against the back of her teeth as she slid into the seat nearest the well-manicured business officials of Verkuyl. The tumultuous behavior of the working class men to her side sent echoes through the Force, their anger and anxieties of what may come from this meeting stoking her senses like a prod to the flame. For what it was worth, she understood their disdain for what may take bloom here. By all accounts, the war was going poorly for the Empire. Would any benefit from aligning with the losing side of the conflict be forthcoming? Yet no one in the room, not even Sah’ra or Amira, could have predicted just how fruitless this endeavor was to become.

”I, for one, would love a cup of caf. Long journeys always leave me weary,” Sah’ra would reply to Donatula, offering him her greatest false smile she could muster, entirely ignoring the outburst from the man known as Roscoe. While her expression implied she was unphased and simply here to negotiate an agreement, silently in her mind she found herself mocking the farmer. After all, with a name like Roscoe, how could he have ever hoped for anything more than tilling land or tending fungus? He was, for lack of a better term, no more than the mud that would be scraped from the bottom of her boots once she departed this abysmal world.

The protocol droid would comply with the wave of his master’s hand, carrying over a tray that contained a cup of hot caf as well as all that could be expected with it. Sah’ra, deliberately ignorant of the droid as it moved beside her, continued to address the man sitting at the head of the table.

”Since we are so short on time, I propose we get down to the reason behind this meeting. With the Consortium’s chokehold on medical supplies, my partner and I have taken it upon ourselves to rectify the mistakes of our superiors. Long ago, the Empire should have taken steps to self-sufficiency and yet we-” Like a whisper, a cold finger trailing down the side of her neck, Sah’ra could feel a disturbance in the Force. There was… a shift in power. No, not a shift. A void. Blue eyes darted to Amira’s as a buzz could be heard from her purse at her side, a notification coming through on her dataphone. The sensation loomed over her but soon after, she pushed it aside. ”-we have allowed our enemies…” Again, the sensation overpowered her, a silent scream echoing between her ears.

Should she have glanced at the phone in her bag, she would realise just what terrible act had caused such a disturbance.

”...the Sith religion is hereby banned within the borders of the Empire,”

@llamallove​