Avin Berus walked briskly down one of the many corridors leading away from the Senate Rotunda. In truth, he stomped. After having to listen to that ghoulish nerfherder drone on about the accomplishments of his new Galactic Empire for the better part of three hours it was all he could do to not add a primal yell to his heavy footfalls. What was worse was that Palpatine wasn't even feigning resignation or a reluctance to be eradicating a four-thousand-year-old democracy. In point of fact, he seemed to be gloating in its destruction. And with most non-Human senators having lost their seat, not a single senator, other than Avin's mentor and his sector's senior senator Bail Organa, seemed to be showing anything other than sycophantic adulation. However, Avin could stomach all the hypocrisy and self-aggrandizement and keep working at the margins to make life better for the currently and soon to be oppressed. But Palpatine's dissolution of the Senatorial committees on sentient rights today meant even those marginal changes would soon become an impossibility. That was when Avin Berus made an inner commitment; Emperor Palpatine had to die.
He had no illusions about what would happen afterward. There would be no miraculous return to democracy. His stormtroopers and Moffs would surely see to the continuation of this new order. Most likely he would be found out and killed in some horrific manner. And his constituents would be further smushed under the jackboot of imperial power. But movements were lit by sparks. And the assassination of the mind behind the formation and operation of this evil empire would provide the ultimate match strike that, with cover, and a few well-placed pokes and blows, could turn into the raging fire needed to topple this monstrosity.
The first person he needed to talk to was his aide-de-camp, Athleenia Signus, who changed her given surname when her brother, Davits, deserted from the newly reformed Imperial Army and rendered the name Draven a danger from there forward. He strode into the apartment designated for Alsakan in 500 Republica and Athleenia was waiting to take his coat.
"How did it go sir?" the young blonde woman asked in a tone that suggested she already knew the answer.
"three minutes of good news…two hours and fifty-seven minutes of bad" he said, taking off his boots and propping his feet up on a duvet as Athleenia settled a tumbler of Alderaanian whiskey in his right hand.
"What was the three minutes of good?" she asked, a bit incredulous.
He looked at her as if he hadn't heard her correctly but then answered anyway when her questioned register. "Count Vidian is dead…the crystal caves on Cynda are saved…for the time being anyway".
She went to the closet and hung his coat up. "that is good news actually. How?"
"What's that?"
"How did Vidian die?"
Avin waved a hand dismissively. "Saying a relapse of Shillmar Syndrome".
"But you don't believe them?"
Now it was his turn to look incredulous. "I don't believe a word this government says".
"Which brings me to my question". He fished into his vest pocket for something and brought out a small black cylinder which he placed on the caf table and pressed a button. The cylinder opened into a small dish and the red light in the center flashed green. Even with the all clear he reached out a hand and she took it. He drew her in until she had no choice but to plop down into his lap. Which would've been strange two years ago before they were sleeping together. He put his drink on the floor and took her cheek in his right hand before giving her small kiss. "Can you still get in touch with your brother?"