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- Nov 5, 2012
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Apollo could not say that he was thrilled about the prospect of meeting a news reporter to discuss any aspect of his life, much less ones which involved killing, destruction, theft, fraud, and all other manners of crime. But, better he than some of the younger, more idealistic kids who wouldn't know when to keep their heads down and lips shut. Or so he had told superior. As he sat fiddling his thumbs in a run down room, he realized that that had been a mistake.
Electrical cables slithered out of gashes in the wall, lights flickered, water licked its way out of pipes, and whines echoed from who knew where. In the distance, only quiet isolation broken by the occasional hum of a speeder blasting by. Despite the serenity, Corellia was a warzone, and calm always preceded the storm. Only four days before, Apollo had been involved in a skirmish with a Sith patrol, an encounter which had cost him two good boys. The fresh bloodbags that had replaced them were too green, and Apollo wouldn't bet on them surviving any longer than a month. They had a lot to learn.
So, too, would this reporter, he wagered. The people of Corellia did well enough on their own - the fighting was low intensity, isolated mostly to radical pockets with occasional confrontations within the safe zones established by the Empire. The safe zones were established to provide peace and security for Corellians, and it was Apollo's job to ensure that they would not feel peace or security. Peace and security only reinforced the belief that the Sith offered order and prosperity. He doubted the reporter would recognize the necessity of evil in a conflict like this. It would probably be necessary to temper the truth, weave in deceptions, and speak mostly to the more noble aspirations.
Shit. Were there even any left? Five years. Some people might even have forgotten what they were fighting for.
He rapped the tips of his fingers along the table, eyes warily watching the restless dust drift beneath the flickering lamp that served as the sole point of illumination for this room. The only thing Apollo knew about this woman was that she had weaseled her way into this interview via a contact of a contact of a contact, and that she had promised to pitch a story that broadcast the Sith in a negative light. The commander hoped such a piece might eventually slip its way through the filters on the HoloNet and find it's way into Joe Corellia's living room. Apollo knew better than to believe Joe Corellia cared anymore, but entertain the woman was the job he was given, and he was nothing if not industrious.
Any minute, he assured himself. She was being escorted through a checkpoint right now, he imagined. He could almost imagine the woman's expression of disgust as gruff savages dug into her crevices, violating her privacy, nervously searching for any devices the Empire might use to tap the conversation. Afterall, it was more probable that the woman was a spy.
@Padmé
Electrical cables slithered out of gashes in the wall, lights flickered, water licked its way out of pipes, and whines echoed from who knew where. In the distance, only quiet isolation broken by the occasional hum of a speeder blasting by. Despite the serenity, Corellia was a warzone, and calm always preceded the storm. Only four days before, Apollo had been involved in a skirmish with a Sith patrol, an encounter which had cost him two good boys. The fresh bloodbags that had replaced them were too green, and Apollo wouldn't bet on them surviving any longer than a month. They had a lot to learn.
So, too, would this reporter, he wagered. The people of Corellia did well enough on their own - the fighting was low intensity, isolated mostly to radical pockets with occasional confrontations within the safe zones established by the Empire. The safe zones were established to provide peace and security for Corellians, and it was Apollo's job to ensure that they would not feel peace or security. Peace and security only reinforced the belief that the Sith offered order and prosperity. He doubted the reporter would recognize the necessity of evil in a conflict like this. It would probably be necessary to temper the truth, weave in deceptions, and speak mostly to the more noble aspirations.
Shit. Were there even any left? Five years. Some people might even have forgotten what they were fighting for.
He rapped the tips of his fingers along the table, eyes warily watching the restless dust drift beneath the flickering lamp that served as the sole point of illumination for this room. The only thing Apollo knew about this woman was that she had weaseled her way into this interview via a contact of a contact of a contact, and that she had promised to pitch a story that broadcast the Sith in a negative light. The commander hoped such a piece might eventually slip its way through the filters on the HoloNet and find it's way into Joe Corellia's living room. Apollo knew better than to believe Joe Corellia cared anymore, but entertain the woman was the job he was given, and he was nothing if not industrious.
Any minute, he assured himself. She was being escorted through a checkpoint right now, he imagined. He could almost imagine the woman's expression of disgust as gruff savages dug into her crevices, violating her privacy, nervously searching for any devices the Empire might use to tap the conversation. Afterall, it was more probable that the woman was a spy.
@Padmé