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The capital of Zeltros and all of her holdings, the palace of Zeltros, sat quietly for the first time in over 1,000 years. Birds chirped faintly in courtyard gardens, but only Charon was there to hear them call. The elected royal family had fled the planet at the first sign of Sith activity, choosing instead to trust their senator, the former chancellor, to rally the Republic and save their world. Perhaps if they had known Charon's plans before leaving, they would have changed their mind. They also might have survived the explosion of their personal transport vessel. It wasn't the first time this had happened to those close to her, but it was the first time she planted them directly. Had it been any other than the Sith themselves, the King and Queen would be hosting a party in this hall, laughing like the unprepared idiots they all had been.
A cool smile crossed the woman's lips as she graced the large throne stationed at the center of the palace. Marble, carved from some solid rock formation not native to Zeltros, was far less comfortable than her cushioned seat afforded to her as senator. The thick golden crown that sat upon her head was little more than a formality, considering that it was one of the few articles of clothing on her person as she waited for her dress to be tailored. Thick, black, and long, was something that her stylists simply were not use to. But just like her, they would have to adapt to the present situation.
The news reports had been broadcast along the halls of the throne room for hours now. The Sith had gone for Qyrs, the manufacturing capital of their world. If early reports had been right, they were intent on destroying the largest space port on the planet. They had simply been able to walk in and plant the bombs, considering the arrogance of the Royal family and their refusal to secure important sites on the planet. It was there mistake, and they lived and died for it just as she would, and the rest of her world if she did nothing to stop it.
"Attention, to the people of Zeltros." Though her face wouldn't be broadcast, she made sure that her own voice would be. "Your Queen and King are dead, all is lost." She allowed her words to sink in for a while, and almost immediately the words for "breaking news" scrolled along many of the news channels. In all honesty she truly had no idea if the bombs had gone off, or if they had yet even detonated. That didn't matter though, all she truly sought was the compliance and completely moral defeat of her own people. It was the only way to save them. "It is time to surrender to those who have bested us, and continue to live in the same peace and prosperity we have enjoyed for centuries. I call for a cease fire as I leave now to travel to Qyrs, to meet with our attacks and discuss a solution to end this violence. I ask humbly that I be met in the skyscraper owned by holotech industries, top floor, largest office." Both the Republic and herself had been fools, to trust peace, freedom, and time over action and violence. If their ancestors had chased the sith into the void and extinguished them, or had they listened to the Jedi sooner, perhaps things would have ended differently. Charon gestured for the feed to be cut.
"How far along is my dress?" The girl beside her had been crying for hours due to the sheer panic cast into the atmosphere. Even if most Zeltrons weren't directly effected by the attack, their emphatic nature brought out the worst emotions in them during crises. It was easy to love when you weren't being murdered, after all.
"It's... almost done my queen." Her meek voice barely broke the background noise of the news reports.
Charon's gaze flicked up toward the crown on her head, and with a careless gesture the Zeltron woman took it off and heaved it to the steps below the throne. "Save it for the next one, it won't be me." Now with little close to anything protecting her from the cold stones of the grand room, Charon sat and waited for her dress to be completed.
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The dress was stiff, bloated, and everything she hoped for in an article of clothing meant to hug a bomb. The explosives themselves rested firmly on her abdomen. It ended a few inches under her own breasts to make her rib cage look rather pronounced. Too off set this, her shoulder pads had been thickened and pointed, along with the collar around her neck. In the mirror, she looked as though she wore her normal self, despite that she was dressed more modestly than she had even been at her husbands own funeral.
A frown danced along the woman's lips as her personal transport shuttle raced toward Qyrs. The Sith had not attacked in force, nor had they been invaded. Though the Republic could stand to lose little in this mass act of terrorism, Charon had lost everything. She had given her life to politics. Even Zeke and her own son had been consumed by her goals. Perhaps if she had shed a tear or two for Zeke, she wouldn't have been punished so drastically by the powers that be. "This goes to Voren, and this to my son." She turned toward a droid in the corner of the room, an HK unit that had kept her safe for months now. It was Czerka made, when czerka had still existed, and now it would finally return to its master.
A simple sorry would not undue her years of neglect, abuse, and power hungry megalomania. In the end, she honestly didn't care. She had removed her son from her planet because it pleased her. She took on Zeke as her husband and permanent lover because it pleased her. Now everything that brought her pleasure had been turned to dust. However, the droid slowly crossed the room and took a hold of the holo-disks anyway. It was a loyal thing, programmed in a way that organic trust and loyalty could not match. It would complete its duty or be destroyed trying, and that was really all that she could ask for.
"You look stunning." Jace's confused, and mournful voice popped up behind her as he entered her personal lounge, making way for the droid as it exited. He had seen the monster she had become, corrupt and arrogant in her own power. In life she was his employer, and in death she would be his accomplice. While he had crafted the "bomb-dress" on her request, he was left unaware about her own hand in the sabotage of her government.
"You've done your part. When the transport leaves, take it to the northern province, you have a managerial position waiting for you at the Lux." It was what she could offer him, a chance to manage and own the club that rightfully belonged to her son. "Dyson would have run it into the ground within a week."
"The Lux?" Zeke was clearly confused, as if the concept of a "bomb-dress" had yet to dawn on him until now. "What! Char! No!"
"Joel!" The sharp bark of some random name left Zeke even more confused, until the HK slowly skirted back into the room and gripped the Zeltron man by the arms. "Keep him secure in his room, until you are back in the northern province. Give Voren's his first, and let him find the punk himself." Zeke continued to protest what was about to occur as he was dragged from the room, his voice picking up into hysterical screams before he had finally been sealed away.
"Senator Chanzot, we are about to arrive at Holotech Industries. They say they have closed their doors." The man currently piloting Charon's vessel keyed his voice in over the comms. "How do I respond."
"Land anyway, knock a cargo tug off the pad if you have to but WE ARE LANDING." While the CEO of holotech industries himself had never crossed her personally, but she had always hated his tacky office. If this was where her life was headed, it was her duty to remove such a stain from Qyrs before she moved on. Besides, she hardly could go back on her words now, even if she hadn't cleared it with the CEO before hand. They would move, and they would make room, or there would be hell to pay. The shuttle scraped and groaned as it made its uncleared, impromptu landing in the higher platforms of the Holotech tower.
Charon made sure to step carefully as she picked her way over the bodies of senatorial guards in her own shuttle, as they lay on the floor about her. They were a liability, had they caught wind of their plan they would have stopped her. Joel had seen to the fact that they wouldn't, after he had sealed Jace in his room. The bodies would likely be dumped unceremoniously in the sea, another causality of the sith terrorist attacks that were sure to follow. None of that mattered though, as the rage inside of her had finally come to a broil. Nothing would keep her from her plans now, not Jace, not her saftey, and surely not her life.
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The office itself had shag carpeting that was dark brown and about as old as the bantha leather that covered almost every article of furniture in the room. The head of a rancor hung behind the desk, and a gigantic bank of windows at the other side of the room lead to open air, a balcony, and the personal landing pad of the CEO himself. If the Sith heeded her message, that hopefully, would be the place where they would land.
With her affairs in order, and large amounts of smoke palling up from the nearby spaceport. Charon foraged through the undercarriage of the large desk before her, scouring drawers and nooks before finally spotting her prize, a bottle of "Breath of Heaven". The riced based drink was strong, and the specific bottle itself was fortified with enough spirits to make a grown Zeltron man buckle his knees. The ex-chancellor poured three glasses, set one on the other side of the desk, and waited.
@Black Noise @fyremage
Edit Note: My keyboard doesn't have the letter in PHoenix's name, so I was unable to tag him directly.
NOTE: I honestly have no idea if this is allowed to be an ASK thread, but I went this route for a more fluid story experience between my senator and the sith. I tagged the few people that this is directly relevant too. As stated by Brandon, Senators have the ability to chose the allegiance of their planets, making neutrality and secession a possibility in the republic. I am sticking to my guns as I did a week ago, before drama, that Charon surrendering Zeltros and the Zeltrons surrendering would be something that would IC'ly make sense. Though Zeltrons can fight, useless death and violence, when they could instead survive under the malevolent rule of someone else, is worth it to a people have have remained relatively untouched by violence, and sought out by all species and factions for luxury despite ideology.
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