As Time Goes By

[Seraphie]

((OOC instructions for posting on this thread:

This thread will be tracking Dancer's Palace moving forward through the Zakuul invasion up to the current game time.

I will be posting regularly on this thread, for Minnette. Each of my posts will bear a timestamp that will mark the time moving foward. I'll be moving forward rather quickly, so that Dancer's Palace can be caught up to current game time by Friday January 15th.

Anyone is welcome to add a post within the following guidelines:

- Please keep posts one offs, you won't likely have time to get into drawn out conversation between different characters in between my posts, your conversation might be cut off by my next post jumping foward in time, and, I don't want the posts tracking the time to get completely drowned out in four pages of conversation.

- Please make sure your post is consistent with the last posted timestamp.

That's it!))

[Seraphie]

((Timestamp : First week of Zakuul invasion))

Minnette smiled at another patron, "Welcome to Dancer's Palace." She chuckled, "Yes, we're still open, regardless of the insanity of the rest of the galaxy." A polite nod, drinks offered, food order taken and sent to the kitchen via comm, "Enjoy your lunch. A serving droid will bring it to you as soon as it's ready."

She rushed back to her appartment, leaving the other staff to continue waiting on the dozen people who were at the Palace for lunch. She punched in a few keys at her desk computer and frowned as she watched the holonet reports updating. Insane was the only word she could come up with at the moment. The unknown enemy that had been striking terror in the Outer Rim and then had gone eerily quiet after devestating Korriban was back. With a vengence. She should have recognised the calm before the storm. But now the storm was here. The new enemy seemed to be everywhere at once. She had no idea how the official Republic Military was doing, or even the unofficial Republic Military, having heard nothing from Caben since the insanity started, but reports were hitting the holonet far and wide of shipyards reduced to scrap metal, supply distribution posts reduced to rubble, even agricultural convoys reduced to space debris.

At first she had thought it was a hoax. By the third day, when regulars started coming in, faces bleak, reporting lost supply runs, loss of communications with ships, suppliers and outposts, even loss of communications with family in other places, she knew it was no hoax.

She set aside the holonet reports, took a deep breath and put her hostess smile back on as she stepped back outside and walked down to the dining room.

Smile, nod, "Yes, our latest batch of nerf steaks are particularly good."

Smile, nod, "A serving droid will be right with you, with your glass of Vysint."

Smile, nod, "Yes, horrible what's happening, but don't worry, you still have a safe place to get away from it all here."

Yes, a safe place to get away from it all... she hoped.

[Seraphie]

((Timestamp: Second week of Zakuul invasion))

Minnette wandered through the quiet rooms of Dancer's Palace early in the morning. Her sleep was restless. She kept waiting for it to be over, for the storm to wear itself out. But it didn't. Communications were getting rerouted a hundred times through secondary posts, but the holonet was still up and still bringing new reports of the devastation being wrought by... no one knew. A fleet in the hundreds, judging by the reports she felt she could trust, that seemed to be able to just suddenly be where you were. Even with the chaotic communications, it was clear that both Empire and Republic were taking heavy losses.

Karmic hadn't been at the last weekly event. Minnette had heard the reports of the devastation on Korriban. She had no idea where Karmic was. Probably in hiding. Hopefully. Whatever trust issues she still had with Karmic, she still cared about her and worried about her. She shook her head, frowning to herself. This was new territory, having friends to worry about.

Business at the Palace had taken a hit already. Republic troops, Jedi, Imperial troops, Sith, were all otherwise occupied. There was still enough of a local crowd to keep the business going, but it made for a rather different atmosphere. And it left her sorely wanting for real, reliable, in person information about what was going on.

She'd heard nothing from Caben since the insanity started. She knew how it was with his job. She probably wouldn't hear anything until it was all over. But she still worried. Even though they'd gone from being a not-couple to not being a couple, they'd remained close friends. Her mind wandered to dark places and she shook her head to shake it off. No, she would see him again. After.

She made her way into the storage rooms, pulling out her datapad and going through inventory. While the Empire and Republic took heavy losses, there hadn't yet been any sign she'd heard of that they were taking on the Hutt cartels, but they had already lost one supply ship in a convoy that got vapourized. She might need to talk to Stell and Karmic about other possible supply routes. If this storm stretched on. But surely it wouldn't.

[Crimsen]

The head of the bar, who normally serves on the Palace sent Minnette this message around the 2nd and 3rd week of Zakuul's Invasion:

Dear Minnette,

I am sorry to send this cryptically, but due to the war escalating faster I must take a leave of absence with my husband, Lord Katharsys, in order to protect our son from this threat. When things cool down, I shall return, but please do not wait for me. I'll understand if you replace me with another bar tender.

I will also need to restrict communication until I can monitor the situation from a vantage point. The reason for this is simple: The Empire is NOT doing well, and I will not place the Dancer's Palace in danger. As you may or may not know, I am the former Cipher 8 of Imperial Intelligence. The last thing you or the Dancer's Palace needs is a potential target walking around.

Regards and May the Force Guide us all,

Crimsèn Kath-Hevilas

[Seraphie]

((Timestamp: Three months after Zakuul invasion))

Middle of the day and Minnette was back in the inventory and cold storage, re-organising. She moved similar items together, grouping what once each had its own shelf, as the number of empty shelves continued increasing week by week. They were down to their last few bottles of Vysint, all trade and travel routes to Erini, even all communications, having gone down even before the storm hit Coruscant. Routes to and from Alderaan weren't in much better shape and while they were still managing to maintain a decent stock of Alderaanian alcohol, with the occasional spacer who made it through, their last shippment of fresh Alderaanian nerf was weeks back. And of course, with the increased risk, decreased supply getting through, prices on everything had skyrocketted.

She shook her head, frowning to herself as she moved more bottles around, updating inventory on her datapad. When would Zakuul be satisfied? At least the galaxy now knew who the new fist coming down upon them was and where they were from. Not that that made the battering any easier to bear. Rumor was they were out for vengence. Against the Republic? Against the Empire? Against the whole kriffing galaxy? No one knew, though the theories abounded, and there were as yet no signs of the assault easing, nothing to suggest that their bloodlust was anywhere near sated.

In Hutt space, things weren't so bad. Hutt space hadn't gotten the same level of attention as the Republic or the Empire and rumors abounded about the various Cartels and individual Hutts grovelling for various protection arrangements with the new rulers of the hyperspace lanes. Rumors were less clear as to just how successful that grovelling was being. She figured the Hutts would have an easier time adjusting to the new invaders - once they determined that "who do I have to kill" wasn't going to get them anything, "how much do I have to pay" was their next logical question.

She moved the last bottle of a particularly rare Kaas bloodwine to a shelf with an assortment of last bottles. At least the Corellian stock was still in good shape. She didn't know what exactly Caben was up to, and probably would rather not know, but somehow he was managing to keep them stocked in that. She was also grateful that at least he was sending her occasional encoded transmissions to let her know that he was still alive, still flying. She was passing messages from Cher, coming through him, on to Stell too, so that at least she knew her sister was still alive. That was more than could be said for the largest part of the Republic's Military Fleet and shipping fleets. From what she heard from the occasional person in the know who passed through the Palace on their way to some fight on some front, with reliable information, the Empire fared no better.

At least Zakuul seemed to be paying little attention to the more independant corners of the galaxy. Other than the same supply issues everyone was having from the frequent, lethal hyperspace lane ambushes, Tatooine seemed to be coming through unscathed. Part of her would be tempted to say, let the Republic and the Empire burn and just leave us to our corner of the galaxy, but she wasn't quite so callous and cold anymore. She had no love for the Republic or the Empire, but she had connections in both now, friends in both, and was deeply aware of the death toll that had reached uncountable numbers by the end of the first month. She knew of at least a few patrons, regulars she had known by name, who would not be coming back. There were multitudes of others who had disappeared, but of whom she knew nothing, patrons, friends, even staff, like Crimsen. If someone she cared about died, would she even find out about it? If the vicious onslaught continued, it was only a question of time before a death hit closer to home.

She frowned, chiding herself for the unproductive worrying and pushed the thoughts from her mind for the moment. She returned to her inventory as she crossed off another item that had nothing but an empty shelf.

[Orell]

"-third fleet got wiped out. Fifty ships, gone in an hour..."

"I hear the Republic's getting hit just as hard. My cousin's ex-girlfriend went down with the 85th attack wing."

"...damn, sorry to hear-"

"Eh, she was a schutta anyway. Cousin too."

"Asses. It isn't just the military. You know the Andalin Skylark pirate gang?"

"Yeah?"

"Not anymore you don't. They're all sucking hard vacuum."

"...shit."

Effet shook his head, glancing down at his datapad as the chatter from the other table continued on. All the news was either about massive fleet laying waste to the Republic and the Empire... or some trivial escape, like fashion or Huttba-

He blinked at the breaking story, popping up on his datapad. "Playoff match between the Cinta Prime Hailstones and the New Haeston Raiders has been postponed. Galactic Huttball League officials have promised that the quarterfinals match will be rescheduled, however anonymous sources in the league office are reporting that the charter vessels transporting the two teams lost contact, shortly after stumbling across a battle between Zakuul and Imperial starships."

"...damn. Guess I got out just in time..." Effet thought to himself. His datapad beeped at him, bringing up a new holomail... earning a grin from the ex-sniper.

"Congratulations! Your auction of 'Oil Painting: Ilum By Night' has ended! The winning bid is 53,043 Credits. 42,434 Credits have been credited to your account, pending final delivery. Thank you for listing your work with Nar Shaddaa's finest Art Auction service!"

Well. Time for a celebration... "Minnette, round for the house on me. It sounds like people need it."

[Imazi]

These were turbulent times for C9 but not because of the ongoing invasion or the threat posed by the surprise conquest from Zakuul. No, many things in C9’s life were changing aside from the physical threat to the Moon.

Many of organics she had come to think of as her own where either disappearing or appearing far less frequently. Also, she had upgraded her hardware to better accommodate emerging emotions which she was still not entirely comfortable with. And still other things changed on account of the first two changes. Yet, of all the changes she had weathered there was only one change she was happy about. She now had a new chassis more befitting a steward droid.

Between being able to feel more comfortable in her own skin, as it were, and her hidden stash of M1-4X pictures, she was able to find a measure of comfort as her world underwent massive changes. Yet, a small part of her was more concerned for the organics around her than herself.

Even as a droid with emotions, the current contention between the invaders and the Cartel was of little consequence. If the Eternal Empire won, C9 would serve her function at the Palace. If the Cartel won, C9 would serve her function at the Palace, especially since she could no longer travel to Rishi. Her place, her function, her future was certain, but she knew that this was not the case for her organics.

C9 sighed. There was nothing she could do to influence the events going on around her, but she would be a fixed point regardless. Whenever her organics returned to the palace, they would find her there. Whenever they came to grab a drink, she would do her best to ensure they got one. Whatever she could do to ensure that the Palace remained, she would. If nothing else remained, C9 would.

[Seraphie]

((Timestamp: 9 months after the Zakuul invasion))

Minnette smiled as she walked through the dining room, "Yes, I'm afraid we've been unable to get any decent nerf steaks in the last few months, but I'd highly recommend the dewback steaks." She tapped the order into her wrist comm and smiled as she excused herself. She moved on to the ballroom, consistently the busiest of their bars. The crowd had changed. No more Republic or Imperial insignia, no more Jedi robes, no more glowering Sith... well, ok, yes, the Sith who came by still glowered, but there were few of them. Even fewer Jedi, though she figured there might be more of them than she realised, assuming they'd be better at blending in with civilian crowds than Sith would.

She'd seen a few patrons from before the storm hit come back, recognised them in spite of their civilian dress. Too many of them had the same look in their eyes, the look of those who've lost too much... too many.

She shook her head, smiling appologetically at a patron, "No, sorry, our Vysint supply ran out months ago. Might I recommend the Corellian brandy? Maybe a sherry if you'd like something a little sweeter? Both decent batches." She smiled and moved on as an astromech delived the chosen drink.

It had taken three months for the storm to ease up. Not due to any lessening of the storm, but to the fact that the storm had shattered most defenses in that time. She frowned, thinking back to the message she'd received from Stell yesterday, as she walked out, back through the dining room, and to the main balcony. With most Republic and Imperial forces either eliminated, crippled, or cornered into hiding, it seemed Zakuul was turning its eye to the larger galaxy. Stell's message had told of reports of Zakuul forces being seen for the first time on Tatooine, hunting people, ships in Tatooine orbit pulverised with no warning, as the fleet showed up and then seemingly left just as suddenly. She'd started hearing similar rumors on Nar Shaddaa too, of Zakuul forces appearing in the underbelly of the moon, taking people and then disappearing. She hadn't yet heard any reports of the fleet being in orbit around Nar Shaddaa and taking out any ships, but if there were Zakuul forces on the ground, they had to have gotten there somehow.

She sighed. She was managing to keep the Palace decently stocked, though with less variety and at higher prices, in spite of the mostly obliterated previous trade routes, but if the Zakuul forces moved in, would they still manage to stay open for business? As far as she could tell, the Zakuul forces hadn't stayed on the ground anywhere. The fleet was clearly determined to wreak havoc on the Empire and the Republic, but not take them over. If the same held true in Hutt space, then hopefully, the new overlords would just leave them in peace to their alcohol induced escapes from the new reality of the galaxy. Hopefully.

[Seraphie]

((Timestamp: 13 months after the Zakuul invasion))

Minnette sank down onto the bar stool, still shaking inside. The patrons gave her respectful space amid hushed whispers while the waitress behind the bar put a glass of Corellian brandy before her. Minnette took the glass with a greatful nod and took a full gulp, letting the heat run down her throat and into her trembling insides, before slowing to sips.

She knew it was only a matter of time before the Zakuul knights walked into Dancer's Palace. She wasn't sure what she had hoped for. That they would be swayed by the peaceful atmosphere and her bright smile? That they would behave, even reluctantly, and respect the Palace rules?

She shook her head to herself as she took another sip. Thank goodness for all the security upgrades she'd gotten put in place a couple months ago. The two Zakuul knights had come in looking for someone, someone she knew was a patron, someone who had been at the Palace less than a week ago. But she was quite the convincing liar when needed. She shook her head with an appologetic smile, yes, she'd seen him before, but not anytime recently, not in many months. Better a lie as close to the truth as possible. The new security system's automatic six-hour loop, that continously recorded all new video feed over that taken six hours ago, meant they had no proof of her lie. Unless they'd been watching the place. But no, they didn't seem like they knew for sure that he'd been here.

They'd wanted to search the place, of course. She took them through, room by room, chattering as if she was giving a tour, then through the kitchen, the storage areas, even the upstairs private rooms, including her own appartment. Only Karmic's remained unopened, to the great ire of the knights. Even she didn't have security access for Karmic's room, only Karmic did. They made a multitude of threats, from breaking into the room to burning the place down, doubling them when they realised the Palace shielding prevented them from communicating with the outside, but in the end, they never got to see Karmic's room. To her great satisfaction. They harrassed a few patrons on their way through. She warned them about the security system, that within Palace walls, all fell subject to the no violence rule. They sneered at her. There was only one law now, only one set of rules. Them. Thankfully, none of the patrons rose to the bait, so they had finally left. To her great relief.

The newly upgraded security system was more accurate, more reliable and had a narrower stasis field. She had no doubt it could hold the Zakuul knights, but she worried about the repercussions on the Palace if a Zakuul knight were to end up caught in the security stasis field. Their attitude was infuriating, but reflected the new reality. With a... star fortress, they called it, in orbit, they didn't own Dancer's Palace, but they pretty much owned the moon. She was happy at least that the newly strengthened shielding was doing its job. She had a secure line set up from her desk computer to her ship and onto public networks through the ship, and Karmic had set up a similar system, but otherwise, all visual and audio was scrambled by the shields, for anyone trying to record it from outside or transmit it from within.

She took her remaining half glass of brandy and walked over to one of the small ballroom balconies, on still wobbly legs. She looked up. She couldn't resist sending an obscene gesture skyward, towards the star fortress. No one would see through the shielding anyway. She took another sip. The star fortress had shown up two months ago, even before the Republic Senate capitulated and signed a treaty with Zakuul, basically stripping, harnessing and muzzling them. Huge tributes sent to Zakuul, stringent limitations on any armements, and anyone who spoke out openly against Zakuul tended to disappear. The Hutts must be turning green with envy. She had heard that then Chancelor Sharesh, who's term had since ended, refused the treaty and was furious with the senators who went around her to do so. Rumor was that most of those senators had since disappeared. Minnette tended to sympathise with the former Chancelor. The treaty was nothing better than slavery, slavery to which the Senate had committed every citizen of the Republic. She was flabbergasted that the Empire had signed a similar slavery treaty, but then, with a new self-declared Empress and no more Dark Council, who knew how anything would run anymore in the Empire.

She finished her glass of brandy and turned back into the ballroom, making her way back to the bar, managing an almost normal smile to patrons, a couple of whom gave her a discreet thumbs up. She appreciated their support. She'd waitressed and waited bar at a lot of places, but never had she seen a place with such fierce loyalty from its patrons. Maybe there was a way to convince Zakuul that this place was worth their loyalty too. Stock was low and variety lower, but maybe a well chosen bottle with a few well chosen words could convince them to let the Palace be. She frowned, or could bring much more unwanted attention. Which was more likely, she wasn't sure. What did they call the big boss of the new star fortresses? An Exarch? Time to do some research.

[Seraphie]

((Timestamp: Two years after Zakuul invasion))

Minnette smiled at the patrons at the table in the dining room, "Yes, our bantha nachos remain our most popular food dish." She gave a bow of her head as she stepped away and tapped the order into her wrist comm, sending it to the closest free astromech to bring to the kitchen.

She smiled as she stepped into the gaming room, where a reasonably friendly game of sabaac was going on. The crowds were getting better. I guess people can get used to anything, even the enslavement of their society, she thought to herself, then stopped mid-step for a moment and shook her head to herself, remembering on what moon she was. Just different overlords.

At Dancer's Palace, things had improved at least slightly in the last six months. Her research had paid off. For the last eight months, every time Zakuul knights showed up looking for someone, she had a gift ready for them to bring to Exarch Tyn, on behalf of Dancer's Palace. The Palace's last bottle of a rare bloodwine. A bottle of Alderaanian red from a very well reputed batch. One of their few remaining bottles of Vysint. At first, she wasn't even sure if the knights were delivering the gifts, or just plundering them for themselves. Until six weeks later, after the fourth gift was sent, when suddenly a small supply ship from Alderaan, with fresh bottles of various wine, brandy, sherry and whiskey vintages, as well as a good load of fresh nerf steaks, showed up in orbit and wasn't vapourised. It was instead allowed to send a shuttle down to Dancer's Palace with the goods. Since then, every six weeks or so, a surprise load of something they used to carry in copious amounts but now could barely get their hands on, showed up unannounced on their shuttle landing pad. So she kept sending gifts.

The knights, for the most part, had respected her wishes since then, and had waited on the shuttle landing pad for anyone they came to collect. She was, of course, at a loss and appropriately appologetic every time a sought after patron was somehow no longer at the Palace and yet had been unseen and unsensed by the knights watching the exit. She politely let them search the place, every time, though they always came up empty, the sought after party having mysteriously disappeared into thin air. In a floating structure the size of the Palace, with so many layers, ducts, spaces for machinery, security corridors and kitchen staff corridors, there were a hundred places to hide and a thousand ways to disembark.

She checked on the ballroom, then went back, through the games room, through the dining room and up the stairs towards the parlour. She stopped half way up the steps, startled out of her thoughts for a brief moment, then smiled, "Good evening and welcome to Dancer's Palace. First drink is on the house and the only rule is please leave the violence outside. If you're here to collect someone, please wait on the shuttle landing pad. If you're just here to enjoy the good food and good drink, then please, enjoy yourselves!" She could hear the smirk and the gloating tone through the golden helmet, "It's you we're here for tonight, hostess." Her heart thundered as she played innocent, tilting her head with a confused smile, "Me? Have I done something wrong?" She smiled her most alluring smile, "I'm sorry if I have. Surely we can work that out?" The same golden head chuckled as both he and his partner moved down the steps to stand on either side of her, uncomfortably close, "Exarch Tyn wants to see you. You'll have to ask him why." Her mind wheeled through possibilities of dashing into the in-wall security corridors, activating the security stasis field, fighting, pleading, crying... and then stopped processing possibilities as two more golden knights stepped just inside the door at the top of the stairs. The first two took two more steps down, now standing below her. There had never been four of them before.

She turned back to the one who had spoken with a warm smile, "Well, that's quite the honour! I've never met an Exarch before!" She giggled softly, "I suppose I should dress for the occasion. Oh! And get his next gift! I'll only need a few minutes in my appartment." The one who had spoken simply stretched out his arm in the direction of the others. She walked up the stairs, keeping her steps steady, and went to the door of her appartment. She smiled again, brightly, "Just a couple minutes." A golden arm stretched out, blocking her way for a moment, as her door slid open in response to her code typed into her wrist comm. She turned to look at the golden helmet with a questioning look, then a teasing smirk, "You aren't going to ask to come in, I hope! Not while I change! That might make us very late for meeting your Exarch." She gave a wink and a light giggle. After a moment, the arm was removed, "Just don't try anything. I'd hate for the Exarch to change his mind and burn this place down."

She stepped into her appartment, letting out the breath it felt like she'd been holding in for way too long as the door slid closed behind her. She chose an attractive, but modest outfit, pants rather than the usual skirts she wore for hosting. She typed in keystrokes at her desk computer, tied into her ship, between pulling off a sleeve, pulling on a sleeve. She sent a secure, coded message to Karmic, "Being hosted by our great overlord tonight. Back as soon as I can." She considered a message to Caben too, but shook her head. He had his own fights. She wasn't going to drag him half way across the galaxy to rescue her from a date. She prepared a system message for the staff, "Business as usual. Back when I can." She'd transmit it from her comm to the entryway security droids on her way past. As serving droids came upstairs within range of them, or as the patrolling security droids wandered past the area, the message would be transmitted and then, droid by droid, the message would get to all staff. She hit a few more keys as she quickly ran a brush through her hair, locking the system up completely, from her desk computer, to her ship, to her protocol-medical droid on the ship. No one would be able to access anything without her.

She grabbed her latest gift, already packaged and waiting in the corner, a well aged bottle of deb-deb brandy, and made her way back to the door, warm hosting smile already back in place before it slid open. She gestured towards the entryway, as a couple of patrons just coming in, walked quickly past at the sight of the golden armour, "Lead on. Wouldn't want to keep Exarch Tyn waiting."

[Karmic]

She chose an attractive, but modest outfit, pants rather than the usual skirts she wore for hosting. She typed in keystrokes at her desk computer, tied into her ship, between pulling off a sleeve, pulling on a sleeve. She sent a secure, coded message to Karmic, "Being hosted by our great overlord tonight. Back as soon as I can." She considered a message to Caben too, but shook her head. He had his own fights.

Karmic was slow-sparring with her droids and her warstaff when the beep came over her wristcom that there was a message sent from The Palaces secure line.  She completed the move, returned to her resting position, and then deactivated the sparring droids before she grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat off her bald head on her way upstairs to her rooms.

She was panting softly as she walked into her bedroom and over to her personal desk.  She glanced at the live feed being piped in through Palace security through her secure line and saw the tell-tale golden armor of the Zakulian knights at the entrance and, soon after, the retreating back of Min going with them.  She frowned and pulled up the message.  Which only made her frown deeper.

She stood for a moment before pressing another button on the panel, sending a message to @Malkerik.

"Persi, we may have trouble.  Min was taken to the Exarch of Shaddaa tonight.  Don't alarm anyone but come with some extra party favors just in case."

As she sent the message she looked down at her large black tuskar cat, Ony, who had entered the room to lean against her hip.  She scritched his broad forehead between his ears, "Mmm... wish I could take you too big guy, but you wouldn't exactly blend in."  She smacked the side of his body a few times and he followed her as she went to take a quick shower and get ready for her performance. 

Tonight was Free Drink Night, after all.
 

[Imazi]

C9 finished straightening out the chairs near the fountain and caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the water. For the first time in her droid life, she stopped to appraise her own appearance. She did not feel very attractive.

The parts of her processors not affected by the new personality matrix reeled at the thought. Since when did she to be attractive to perform her function?

C9 shook her head, this personality matrix would have to go... just like the others. But, there was little she could do about it now. The task at hand was to survive the night. Even in view of Zakuul clamping down on the moon, it should sill be busy... but only the Maker knew how this night was going to turn out with this personality!

[Seraphie]

Minnette kept quiet on the shuttle ride up from Dancer's Palace to the Star Fortress in orbit. It looked imposing enough from up in the sky. As the shuttle approached, it looked... ominous. She'd never received any reply to any of the gifts she'd sent, with a very brief, "In the spirit of friendship and respect, from Dancer's Palace" every time. She had assumed that the periodic bonus shipments being allowed through was a sign that they were well received, and now hoped that she was to be equally well received.

They led her through a maze of narrow corridors, with closed doors on either side. Occasionally, she'd get a glimpse through frosted windows of some sort of large machinery. The constant hum was unlike any she'd heard on any ship before. The place was huge. Finally, they led her to a small room with a table and chairs, a couch to one side, and what looked like a small kitchen in a back corner. Once she was within the room, the four golden knights promptly left, the door closing behind them, though, as she strained to listen through the door, she thought she only heard two pairs of boots marching away. She shrugged and looked around, moving closer to the table. It was set with a meal, already on the plates. Nerf steaks, that reminded her of the shipment that had unexpectedly shown up at the Palace three days ago, with a variety of cooked vegetables and baby potatoes. A bottle of Alderaanian red, a particularly well reputed vintage, her gift to the Exarch three gifts ago, was open, with wine glasses beside it.

She looked up as the door opened and the Exarch walked in, wearing a rather impressive golden armour, more ornate than that of the knights, with a golden helmet looking more like a traditional type of helm than the angular knight helmets. He held a laser stick in one hand, unlit. It was similar to the weapons of the knights, but again, more ornate, the handle not quite as long. She guessed it might be able to be more easily used like a regular lightsaber, and not just a staff, than the pikes of the knights. Imposing, she thought to herself, but then, she'd smiled and stood up to Kezie when he wanted to incinerate another patron, she wouldn't be so easily intimidated. She smiled and bowed, as she did to all patrons at the Palace, "Exarch Tyn, I assume. To what do I owe this honour?"

He was silent for a moment, then took off his helmet, setting it and the staff off to the side on the floor, near the door, "Ah, manners. Something sorely lacking on this moon. I was told that you'd be a refreshing break from that." He stepped closer, "I wanted to discuss business with you, Ms. Minnette, and would prefer to do so in a location where the only eyes and ears are mine." He took another step, moving uncomfortably into her personal space, "And, perhaps, discuss more than business, if you're so inclined." He watched her, carefully, as she remained where she stood, unflinching before his approach, still smiling her friendly smile. He gestured to the table, "I thought a meal would be an appropriate setting for discussing business relating to an establishment such as Dancer's Palace. Please, join me." While he still smiled, something in the tone came clearly across as a command more than a request. Minnette gave a small, gracious bow of her head, then moved towards a chair and sat down. She chose the chair facing the door and he took the other.

She waited for him to start to eat before even lifting her fork. He took a bite, then looked at her, noting her caution and chuckled. He swapped their plates, "See, nothing to worry about. If I wanted you dead, poison would be a much more complicated way of assuring that than many others at my disposal." She looked down at the plate, then at the Exarch, then picked up her fork and took a bite. Her smile remained unchanged as she remarked, "That's not as reassuring as you may think it is." He smiled back, between bites, with a smirk that somehow managed to seem predatory, "Enjoy the meal, my dear, and then we can talk business."

She ate. She had to admit, the meal was exquisite. As was the wine she had sent, of which she took only a half glass. As she sat back and sipped very, very slowly at the wine, she looked over the Exarch. He exuded authority, in his posture, in his look, in his tone. Yet, there was something else there, a deep sense of control. When Colonel Viet visited the Palace, she had no doubt that his men followed him easily, without question. There was a sense of leadership to him, different from the feeling of authority she got from Tyn. Viet earned respect. Tyn took control. He reminded her a bit of Major... Colonel Exephos. He had the same eyes that seemed to somehow take everything in in such a calculating way, like a Manka cat relentlessly following prey, even when it couldn't see it, somehow still certain it was there.

He watched her back, clearly sizing her up, his eyes not even discreet when they wandered. Finally she spoke, "Shall we discuss business then? That -is- why you said you brought me here, is it not?" He chuckled in reply, "I never said we'd be limited to just business, but yes, we can start with that. I've been watching your Dancer's Palace for some time now. It would seem that almost everyone stops by there at some point. Jedi, Sith, smugglers, bounty hunters, spies, criminals...." his eyes narrowed at her and she fought the urge to squirm on her chair, "enemies of Zakul." She fought back the instinctive defensiveness that rose immediatly to the surface and instead smiled at him, "Dancer's Palace prides itself in welcoming people of all walks of life and in providing a safe environment in which everyone can relax and maybe even gain new perspectives on those they come in considering as enemies. It's possible that we have enemies of Zakul who visit. It's possible that we also have supporters of Zakul who visit. We don't vet people at the door for their political positions. Instead, we encourage all sentients to socialize with those around them, thereby gaining new perspectives from those with differing opinions." He scoffed at her reply with a laugh and a shake of her head, "You harbour terrorists who conspire, from within your walls, to attack the Eternal Empire and do harm to its citizens."

Her smile disappeared and her tone shifted, indicating her insult at the comment, "We do not, encourage terrorism or conspiracies, Exarch, but we respect the privacy of our patrons and their conversations. We harbour no one other than patrons. If you were to come visit, our same policies and security system would ensure than any harbouring ill will towards you, for instance, would be unable to act upon it. Were they to argue with me that they should be allowed to harm the one who rules the Star Fortress that has harmed and killed so many on this moon, I would provide you with the same protection as any other patron." He grinned at her, eyes narrowing, "Would you, now? I may have to come and sample such hospitality."

Her polite smile returned, "You'd be most welcome at Dancer's Palace any time, Exarch." She set her glass of wine back down on the table, still a bit of wine in the bottom. His grin became a smile, that somehow still didn't seem much more reassuring, "Well, I suppose as the sponsor of Dancer's Palace, it would certainly be expected that I'd be welcome at any time." Her brow wrinkled up in confusion for a moment, "Excuse me? Sponsor?" He gave her a smug grin, "Well, your establishment seems to be quite a central hub in the comings and goings of the high crowd of Nar Shaddaa. I figured that, now that the moon falls under my care, so should it's most popular establishment." She put back on a smile she didn't feel, "Well, your care has been noted, Exarch, with some of the shipments you've sent our way, allowing us to better serve our patrons, and that care is much appreciated." He nodded, "Well, I think we shall increase such shipments. In fact, I think any ship indicating it's carrying supplies for Dancer's Palace will now be allowed through, after inspection, of course."

She was silent for a moment, before she replied, "That's very generous of you, Exarch. May I ask what you expect in return?" He grinned at her, "What makes you so sure I expect anything in return?" She left only a trace of a smile as she replied, "You don't seem quite -that- generous, Exarch, no offense intended." He smirked at her again, "Well, if I'm your sponsor, then all shipments intended for you will fall under the same protection as you yourself do. Of course, as sponsor, a significant portion of the profits will fall to me, as a return on my investment. In return, your inventory will remain well stocked and I will see to it that you, and the establishment I'm sponsoring are well protected." She eyed him for a moment, calculating, "How much of the profits?" He took a sip of his wine, "Eighty percent." She was speechless for a moment, with the shock. When she regained her voice, she was careful to keep her tone soft and respectful, "Exarch, I hope you realise that I'm only an employee of Dancer's Palace, not one of the owners, therefore, I'm not in a position to negociate such a deal without consulting them. As well, that leaves very little profit for the owners to be able to use to continue improving the Palace." He poured himself some more wine, added some to her glass, and then smiled at her. "You, however, deposit those profits. Therefore, you can easily start depositing them where I say. As for the owners," he grinned again, "I'm certain you can convince them of the value and benefits of my sponsorship for their establishment." She left her wineglass on the table and gave a gentle nod, "I'll discuss it with them, Exarch, and try to adequately convey your interest in this venture. The final decision, however, rests with them, and I'll not go against my employer's orders."

He smiled at her again as he stood and held out a hand, "Come, let me show you something." She stood, taking his hand, with a fresh frown of confusion, though she said nothing and only followed. He led her out of the room, into the hall, where the knights no longer stood guard, and through a new maze of seemingly endless and perpetually empty corridors. They came to a corridor that had to be on the perimeter of the station, as there, suddenly, she could see Nar Shaddaa through the viewport. He brought her to the window and pointed, "Dancer's Palace. Coordinates 035, 416, 832." She looked where he pointed and nodded. He moved behind her, his armour touching her back, and looked over her shoulder as stretched his left arm in front of her and reached around her with his right, holding his fingers above controls on his wrist, "It would take but a push of few buttons and Dancer's Palace, and perhaps anything else within perhaps a kilometer around, down, all the way to the bowels of the moon, would be nothing but a mist of atoms." Minnette frowned but said nothing. He moved his mouth close to her ear, speaking softly, but the gloating smirk audible in his tone, "You didn't expect me to play fair, did you?" Minnette let out a soft sigh, "I'll do what I can to convince them." He stepped back and held out his hand, "Thank you. I've no doubt of your power of pursuasion."

She took his hand and followed as he led her back to the room where they had eaten, the plates now cleared away, but the wine and half full glasses still there. He gestured for her to sit back down and she did. He sat as well and smiled as he took his glass and sipped. "As well as ensuring you have adequate inventory, I'll also be providing you with new security forces, some droids as well as some skytroopers that can be activated when needed." Minnette shook her head vigorously, "That won't work. All of our security droids are tied into our security system, so that they can respond when the stasis field is activated." His smug grin returned, "My technicians assure me that you should have no difficulty integrating our droids into your elementary security system. They're decent technicians, but I know they would never dare disappoint me. I'm certain you'll be able to make it work." Minnette frowned, "And the skytroopers? You said they would be able to be activated when needed. Who will control them?" He smiled as he saw her resistance waning, "The security droids will activate them if they detect any security risk. I will, of course, monitor everything regularly from here." It took all her willpower to control her own smug smirk and keep her face and tone neutral, "Exarch, the shielding that our establishment has in place, as an integral part of its contruction and security system, makes any outside communication or transmission impossible from within." He looked at her a moment, tilting his head as if measuring the probability that she was bluffing, then finally spoke, "Hmm, well, I'll have my tecnicians look at that then. I'm sure they'll be able to figure out something." He sipped again at his wine.

Minnette took her wine glass, just to have something with which to busy her hands and sipped at it very slowly, "Is there anything else you want, Exarch, with your sponsorship?" His predatory grin returned, "Only that you, the lady of Dancer's Palace, show yourself to be irreproachable in your loyalty to Zakul and to your sponsor." She looked at him blankly for a moment, then turned her eyes downward, even managing to pull a slight blush to her cheeks, as she answered timidly, "And how would I prove such loyalty, Exarch?" He continued to grin, "By identifying to me any patrons who plot against or openly speak against me or the Eternal Empire." She looked up at him with a frown of concern, "But, there are so many patrons who come through, Exarch, and I hear so little of the conversations, busy as I am hosting!" He narrowed his eyes at her, "I'm certain you're smart enough to figure out who is working against me. I'd hate to have to remove you for treason. Though I suppose one of the owners, or that droid you frequently have at the entrace could assume your duties." Minnette brought her eyes back up to meet those of the Exarch, set down her wine glass and slid a hand over the table to rest upon one of his, "I can assure you that won't be necessary, Exarch, I'll do whatever you ask to prove my loyalty to you." He chuckled, "Did you think it would be that easy with me?" He narrowed his eyes at her once again, "You will prove your loyalty by providing me with traitors." He pulled his hand out from under hers and placed it on top. "I may yet decide to expand my claim..." he grinned at her once again, "...but that would be a different type of negociation, requiring more time and more finesse than a simple meal and a cheap bottle of wine." He stood and spoke again, giving her no time to reply to the insult, "My knights will return you to Dancer's Palace. The new security droids and skytroopers will arrive tomorrow. I look foward to seeing my Dancer's Palace flourish. Good evening, Ms. Minnette." She stood and gave a quick bow of her head as he was already back to her, stepping out of the door, his helmet and staff in his hands.

The golden knights returned, only two this time, and escorted her back to the Palace. She looked at the approaching cityscape in silence, her mind whirling. Work had just gotten a lot more complicated.

[Seraphie]

((Timestamp: Five years post Zakuul invasion, current in game time))

Minnette looked through her skirts to pick one out for tonight's Palace event, checking her chrono for time. Seven years. She shook her head with a soft chuckle, she still couldn't believe it had been seven years that she'd been working here. She'd made it over to visit Stell a few days ago to celebrate together over dinner. Having the good will of an Exarch had some advantages when it came to travel elsewhere.

She grabbed a skirt and started looking through her tops as she continued to muse.

Really, the deal with Exarch Tyn, while it sucked the profits out of this place, had worked out well. Their inventory wasn't what it was five years ago - some places were just not accessible anymore, no matter who you knew - but it was in very good shape and consistently so. Business was doing as well as ever. She'd even been able to get some furniture of Zakuul design to change the look a little, over time.

The security droids the Exarch had insisted upon putting in place were for the most part non-intrusive. In the last three years, they'd only activated the dormant skytroopers twice, both times in cases where the security stasis field had been triggered and the skytroopers did little other than escort the violating party away. Of course, in those cases, she couldn't really do anything to ensure that the person wasn't escorted to the Star Fortress afterwards, but if someone was foolish enough to disregard their security system, with the reputation it now had, they could deal with the consequences of their own choices.

The Exarch hadn't been happy about it, but had finally accepted that the Palace privacy shielding was too strong and too integrated into all the Palace systems for him to be able to get transmissions from anywhere but the entryway. She wasn't sure how many technicians he'd gone through before settling for just a security camera in the entryway that transmitted directly to the Star Fortress. He still sent his knights at times, when he saw someone of interest come in, but usually he sent them after the person had left and they just collected the recordings from his security droids. He'd stopped trying to arrest anyone at the Palace.

Caben had helped her provide some discreet, untraceable counter-measures to the Exarch's surveillance. He'd helped her alter a very old floating bar droid they had, so that it was able to scramble the video and audio recording of the security droid in the room. The scramblling was stopped by walls however, and they only had one of that particular type of bar droid, so it was a very localised solution, but it allowed her to provide patrons with some privacy in at least one room. Caben had also managed to install some small shielding fields in all of their serving astromechs that provided a circle of privacy, but it was very small, only a radius of about 2 m around the droids. But at least it was something. It had taken time to discreetly get word out to the patrons of the new eyes watching the Palace and of how to go about securing their privacy if it was needed, but by now, all regular patrons knew and were pretty good at helping to get the information discreetly to new patrons. She knew that some of the memory dumps the Exarch had sent his knights to retrieve had sometimes included recordings corrupted by their counter-measures, but so far, he'd never said anything to her about it.

He still sent for her from time to time. Another dinner and more shows of how he could disintegrate her and anyone she cared about in seconds. He'd never -claimed- her as such, though he continued to suggest that at some point he might. She assumed it was all part of the psychological leash he held on her. But what he said and what she read between the lines made her cautious of showing any kind of serious attachment to anybody at the Palace if there was any chance he might see it. She'd made show of providing him some names from time to time, names that she was certain he had already gotten elsewhere by the time she provided them, to ensure that she held up his stated requirement of irreproachable loyalty to him and to Zakuul. Openly, she praised the stability and security that Zakuul's rule brought to the criminal moon. However, behind the scenes, she was doing what she could to work against them. What she could do, however, didn't turn into a whole lot. Mostly she found herself helping refugees that found themselves on Nar Shaddaa during the conflict with Zakuul and siphoning off money, however and whenever she could, to Stell, to help in other places.

She grabbed a top, checked her chrono again and frowned, she'd clearly been lost in her musings for longer than she intended. She shook her head to clear the thoughts away, changed and went out to finish checking out that all was ready for their busiest night of the week.

[Jedibehr]

"The '59 Sound"

As performed by The Gaslight Anthem

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G1lq40tR72Q

Well I wonder which song they're gonna play when we go
I hope it's something quiet and minor and peaceful and slow
When we float out into the ether into the everlasting arms
I hope we don't hear Marley's chains we forged in life

'Cause the chains I've been hearin' now for most of my life
And the chains I've been hearin' now for most of my life

Did you hear the '59 sound
Coming through on Grandmama's radio?
Did you hear the rattlin' chains
In the hospital walls?

Did you hear the old gospel choir
When they came to carry you over?
Did you hear your favorite song
One last time?

And I wonder, were you scared when the metal hit the glass?
See I was playing a show down the road when your spirit left your body
And they told me on the front lawn, I'm sorry I couldn't go
But I still know the song and the words and her name and the reasons

And I know 'cause we were kids and we used to hang
And I know 'cause we were kids and we used to hang

Did you hear the '59 sound
Coming through on Grandmama's radio?
Did you hear the rattlin' chains
In the hospital walls?

Did you hear the old gospel choir
When they came to carry you over?
Did you hear your favorite song
One last time?

Young boys, young girls
Young boys, young girls
Ain't supposed to die on a Saturday night
Ain't supposed to die on a Saturday night
Well they ain't supposed to die on a Saturday night
Ain't supposed to die on a Saturday night

Did you hear the '59 sound
Coming through on Grandmama's radio?
Did you hear the rattlin' chains
In the hospital walls?

Did you hear the old gospel choir
When they came to carry you over?
Did you hear your favorite song
One last time?

Young boys, young girls
Young boys, young girls

   Xhander sat behind his desk and watched the data stream feeds scroll across the screens in front of him.  All the names, lists and other vital information on the many business associates the Cartel kept employed.  He caught the date on the lower corner of one of the screens and his eyes glazed over as he felt his mind wander. 
“Six years,” His mind automatically calculated the figures as he had trained it to do.
   The time slipped past him like a fast moving river.  It had been six years since his twin brother Drexler Gage had perished in the invasion by Zakuul.  Xhander kept track of his old company, Galactic Freight Solutions, now run by his brother’s lover.  Still to have let six years pass and not do anything to find the answers to so many of the questions he had.
   The doors to his office slid open and his executive officer wandered in.  Kal’s caramel skin had been exotic to a man who had grown up in the completely Caucasian population of the Corellian Upper Class.  Xhander’s eyes wandered over to his second in command who was wearing his typical leather duster that outlined his toned upper torso so nicely.  The six foot two-inch-tall Kal Vertenna was solidly built at 245 pounds, with broad shoulders and defined chest, that tapered to a slightly thicker midsection.  The brown leather pants that Kal wore left little to wonder about, as his thigh muscles tensed and relaxed as the man strode across the office.
   Xhander quickly thought to put the appropriate smile on his face, as his second in command strolled to his desk and stopped.  One was free to think, what one liked, but in polite society, you never let anything socially unacceptable pass your visage.
   “Kal.” Xhander said, looking back to the data stream.
   The slightly younger man with a dark goatee that circled his mouth and thick black hair that was kept in tightly bound dreadlocks, visibly relaxed. “They made contact.”
   Xhander stopped looking at the data stream.  “Are you sure it is them; I do not want a repeat of Kalas IV.”
   “I used every verification procedure we have.”  A bead of sweat escaped the temple of the visibly nervous Kal.
   “Set it up and add it to my schedule.”  Xhander returned to his data stream.  “And Kal, have SN-1 P-3R, scout the meeting sight at least two days before, this time.”
   The younger man visibly blushed, the redness darkening his caramel cheeks. “Yes, Boss.”
   Xhander’s mind began to wander again.  He thought back to that large estate on Corellia, he wondered if joining the Republic military had always just been an act of rebellion in an otherwise meaningless existence.
   He remembered the day that his brother had been thrown out.  So much fear in his eyes.  Xhander often wished he had been able to do more, but given the circumstances.
   Then the day he learned that Drexler was dead.  He had been out of the military for 2 years at the time.  He was doing freelance mercenary work.  Not even the established Cartel enforcer he was now.  He had always meant to make time to go see him.  But it was always a bad time when he would think of it.
   Xhander pulled up the feeds that had been intercepted en route to the Exarch of Nar Shaddaa.  The images of the dancer’s palace danced on his screen.  He felt a small smile play across his lips as he watched Drexler dance on the dance floor and mingle among the crowds of the Dancer’s Palace.
   “Enough time had passed,” he thought to himself.  “Time to get back into the world, otherwise all of this is for nothing,” he continued the dialogue with himself.
   “Look out Dancer’s Palace, Xhander Gage is about to change your galaxy!” He shouted at the top of his lungs.
   The two security droids behind him, flinched but did not move.