It was dark out, midnight perhaps, and raining.
A worlds worth of statistics scrolled past her terminal screen as she approved and deployed a number of family members, a new pair who needed proving, an old hand only good for standing guard. She knew every place they would fit in. A transmission had come in from one of the men who had started with her, their efforts to expand the Zaa Fenn beyond Eriadu were coming along smoothly, and that left them with a supply train from Hutt Space to the their home, here in the Capital.
Good work.
Credits transferred.
Contact established on the orbital ring.
She had discovered one thing about herself at least in the years living and working within the Syndicates. While she was not a gunslinger like Preef, a slicer like Scratch, or a diplomat like Donatade, she excelled at one thing uniquely: logistics.
Oft forgotten and undervalued, it was why the Zaa Fenn had expanded so quick, capitalised so well on their successes, the skills of their members, the fame of their allies. All of it had been quantified, coalesced into a plan to which not even she knew the exact end. She had never been sure of it when she'd left Commenor, only the demand to make a way in the world that was not within the structures she so despised, knew failed so often and so many.
And yet, here she was, organising her own.
Transmission.
Syndicate leadership, acknowledgement of progress, approval of activities.
Crime Lord, Marissa Zaa Fenn.
And there it was. She'd ascended. Without pomp or circumstance she'd stepped into the role of one of the highest ranks within the Five Syndicates. There was only so much more she could climb, and only one way out once she was there.
What would she do then?
If all went according to plan, Preef would be in such a position himself soon. A trial run for her own climb perhaps? They'd leveraged his fame into something very unique, she had to admit.
Was she only thinking of him like that now? Like a resource to be sent out, scapegoated if necessary? He was the Rodian with the target on his back and she still sat in the shadows. Even when she'd sent them off to Eriadu, spent their savings on a name that hardly earned them anything to start with, things had been different. Perhaps he would have gone to Takodana if she hadn't, perhaps she would have visited.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. What value was there in thinking about it?
Shipment due by friday.
Secondary security at all handovers while offworld.
It was not midnight. It was not raining.