Location: Mid-Rim
System: Tecave System
Planet: Cerea
City: Asphodar 3
POV: Irene
Irene felt the smooth fabric of the resort's floor beneath her feet as she glided across it. She had just disposed of her damaged shoes, leaving the skin on her foot fully exposed to the ground she walked on. Ordinarily, this would cause her body to tense up and be on alert, ready to defend against the unseen enemy lurking in the shadows and around corners. However, with the rug as soft and rich as it is, her body recalled warm memories of years past. The day she met her savior, and the first time her feet felt the fabric of carpet, allowing a rich heat to permeate through her calloused and blistered skin. And the meal that came afterwards still felt heavenly to Irene now, food that was not covered in fungus or home to a maggot hive and water that wasn't sewage runoff.
Her reminiscing cut itself short as Irene rounded the corner, and she entered a hallway connecting one half of the resort, the part that contains the surgical suites and hotel rooms, to the half that contains entertainment facilities. The hallway gave way to a luxurious restaurant at its far end, serving patrons of even higher stature than most of the patients at the resort. A series of service doors placed off to the left side of the hallway filled the gap between Irene and the restaurant. The farthest service door is at least 20-30 meters away from the restaurant entrance, indicated by the white Ryloth silk curtains that blocked views into the restaurant. Her fingers going white from the sheer pressure she was applying to the designer item's bantha leather skin.
At the far end of the hallway, the service door opened as a male Toruta, dressed in a tuxedo, pushed a trolley through. The Togruta shifted his cart towards the left, the opposite side of the hallway that Irene was traveling down. They approached each other, eyes locked in the direction of their respective destinations. Irene loosened her grip, allowing her purse to tumble out of her hand. She let out a gasp, the kind that she had spent years perfecting as an operative of Crimson Dawn, so she could infiltrate high society. It was the kind of gasp which sounded like a spoiled brat who viewed their purse dropping as a war crime. The trolly stopped, and the Togruta reached down to grab the fallen bag.
"Aren't you the sweetest thing in the entire galaxy? I'm going to make sure your manager hears about this." Irene piled honey on top of her voice, masking the condescension and contempt behind her words, as if she was a god speaking to a worm.
"It's my pleasure," the Togruta said, grasping the purse in one hand.
Then, with his other hand, he reached into the cart to pull out a pair of crimson heels, and placed them in front of Irene. Next, out came a lipstick container, which the Togruta put in the hand holding the purse.
"Enjoy your evening." he handed over both items to her, using the purse to disguise the lipstick.
"Oh, I will, you silly little man." Irene stepped into her new shoes, depriving her of the sensation of being on the carpet but completing her disguise.
Irene continued on her way to the restaurant, sparing no backward glance towards the Togruta that helped her. She brushed past the curtains to find a moonlit, open-air cafe with a massive Mustafar Ironwood tree in the center; it's massive roots stretching out to cover the entire floor. A host stood behind a podium that was molded out of the root system that swept out from the tree.
The host cleared his throat, smiled warmly, then gestured for Irene to come over.
"Lady Mariana Corvus of Eriadu, my name is on the reservation. As for your little insult, I'll forgive it only because you don't know how to treat someone who's better than you in every single way." Irene examined her nails, flicking an imaginary piece of dirt at the host.
"This way, madam." The host led Irene to the balcony, where she found somebody had already filled the other three seats at the table.
Linden Bolore, the CEO of Corellian Engineering, sat at one side of the table while the other two occupants sat on the opposite side of him. Linden stood and pulled out a chair for Irene, which she glided onto. Irene placed her hand onto Linden's, who pulled it upwards and placed a kiss on it. A giggle escaped Irene's lips and she batted her eyes, withdrawing her hand slowly from Linden.
"Mariana, I'd like for you to meet Snyder Whittman. She's the Chairwoman of the Outer Rim Investment Coalition." Linden gestured towards the woman sitting across from Irene.
"Ah, you must be the infamous Lady of Eriadu. We've heard a lot about you."
Irene eyed the person sitting diagonally across from her, the silent person She wore a tuxedo and dress pants, but the outfit lacked a bow tie. Irene spotted slight skin irritations along the outfit's arms and neck region, indicating to Irene that there was something abnormal about the clothing itself. Irene's attention slipped to the woman's yellow eyes. A brief electric pulse at the edges of the woman's eyes caught Irene's attention as her focus was moving on, the pulse was small and quick enough to go unnoticed by an average person.
Irene smiled and said, "I see my reputation precedes me."
The brief electric pulse continued to trouble Irene, for she knew exactly what it was, the Panopetes Contacts. Extensive training was needed to recognize the telltale signs of Panopetes Contacts and any other surveillance devices like it, training that Irene had endured. These surveillance devices allowed the user to transmit images that they saw to a monitor, and the monitor could send visual information back through the contacts. Completely undetectable from modern security equipment, having been developed by ex-Imperial engineers, the Panopetes had only two flaws; the power consumption was so great that it produced a visible electric pulse every three minutes, and the contacts eventually burned a person's eye after just three days. Cybernetic replacements were unable to use the contacts. Due to both the privacy-invading nature of the contacts and the side-effects, the New Republic banned the production and usage of the contacts and kept their blueprints under lock and key. Evidently, the woman currently using the contacts did not care about Republic laws or the loss of her eyes.
"You're all Linden can talk about; apparently, you two have been spending a lot of time together. He talks about you even more than his wife and kids." Another woman leaned over and gave an amused look.
Irene blushed and looked down at her interlocked hands, "Oh my, how embarrassing. I wouldn't say we've been spending a lot of time together; I've just been showing him my gratitude. When I first showed up at this resort, I was having trouble getting into my reserved room. There was a glitch in the system that was preventing new check-ins. Then, Linden swoops in and rescues me from having to go to some subpar five-star resort by offering the service a large tip, if they just filled my check-in paperwork after the hotel fixed the system. I've been paying him back by keeping him company."
Irene took the time to examine Snyder Whittman as she told her story. Snyder wore a black tie with silver lines cutting diagonally across from the tie's right side, a blue dress shirt, a black business skirt, and emerald heels with ruby stone tips on the outer edges. Irene couldn't see any skin irritation or electric pulses in Snyder's eyes, but that didn't completely rule out that she didn't have something...different on her. Still, it would appear Snyder was less armed than her counterpart and more amicable.
"Whatever kind of company you've been giving him, I must thank you. Ever since Linden came here, he's been such a nervous wreck, but after meeting you, he seems to have calmed down. And since Corellian Engineering and the Outer Rim Investment Coalition will be doing business with each other, a most profitable venture." Snyder reached out to shake Irene's hand, which she did enthusiastically.
The loud clap of a pad crashing on the table cut through the mood like a knife to butter.
Snyder sighed heavily. "Must you always ruin things for me. Forgive the intrusion, but my associate here is more business than pleasure. Linden wants you to sign our deal before our good mood carries us away."
"Of course, Mariana. Maybe you can freshen up in the restroom, while I sign the deal and order some drinks for us."
Irene slipped out of her seat and stood regally next to Linden, leaning down to kiss his head and grab her purse before nodding and strutting away. Irene made her way to the bathroom inside the restaurant; more specifically, she opened up the tree's trunk in the restaurant's center to reveal stairs. She descended into a hallway illuminated by lamps, with a t-shaped divergence at the end. On either side of the hallway were lamps inspired with fire. With one whiff of the air, Irene could tell that the candles used a real wick and wax. Candle making had been a dying profession even during the days of Valorum's Chancellorship in the Republic; things didn't precisely rebound during the Empire, so to find real candles and not synthetic ones in this age must denote some sense of vast wealth.
Unlike the rug from earlier, this did not give Irene any sense of comfort or warmth. Perhaps someone else could appreciate real candles, but not her. No, she liked extravagance to a degree, allowing yourself some worldly pleasures for comfort, but there comes a time when the extravagance is just wasteful. These candles represented that point, that wastefulness, and it stung deeply. Irene did not hate the candles but was somewhat disappointed about the loss of money that went into them since she knew all too well where a lack of funds gets you.
Shaking herself free of the scent emanating from the candles, Irene continued on her way to the bathroom. She slipped through the door and placed her purse on the vanity, putting herself in front of the mirror that hung above the vanity. She brushed one loose strand of hair back into place before reaching into her purse and retrieving her lipstick, brushing past a rather sharp object. She unscrewed the base of the cosmetic product, removing a vial containing a liquid substance. After giving it a shake and checking the vial for any cracks, Irene placed the vial back into the base of her lipstick and kept the lipstick in the palm of her hand. She waited one minute, counting the exact seconds until a minute had passed, with each passing second and action she did her heart sped up with the knowledge of what was about to happen.
It took exactly three minutes for Irene to exit the bathroom and emerge from the tree trunk; she made sure to take slow and deliberate steps that would extend her journey by even the tiniest fraction of a second. A waiter was passing close by, his steps were also slow and deliberate. Irene slipped past him, placing the lipstick delicately in his pocket, and continued on her way back to the table with Linden on the other guests. A deep conversation was occuring, as they failed to notice Irene approaching. Snyder was clutching an electronic pad and pen in her hands, frowning slightly. It wasn't until Irene was practically on top of the table that Snyder noticed her presence and dropped her frown.
"Lady Mariana, it's good to have you back," Snyder said.
"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything." Irene made sure to smile through her words; after all, her cover depended on maintaining certain mannerisms.
"Oh, not at all. We're just negotiating a few last-minute details. Those are always the hardest, but the business world revolves around making sure that every last piece of a deal is fine-tuned." Snyder placed her pad face down on the table, eyeing Linden.
"Though I must admit, I thought we were past this point, and the signing of the deal between the Coalition and Corellian Engineering was merely a formality. Imagine my surprise when Linden informed me that he wanted to revise some parts of the deal. After all, he desperately needs the funds this deal will produce." Irene sensed an undercurrent of danger in Snyder's words, so much danger that it took all her willpower not to shudder.
"That's my Linden, always making a fuss over even the smallest things." Irene playfully slapped Linden's shoulder.
"You worry too much, Snyder. The deal will go through, but my company and I are taking a considerable risk in the venture that you're proposing, and I would like a little more out of it. There are people I'm very close to who are depending on the outcome of this deal, I need to help them through this." Linden concentrated on Snyder, but his hand wrapped itself around Irene's that she could feel the blood draining from it.
"I suppose that's reasonable. Those people are very precious, or you wouldn't be going to these lengths." Irene squeezed back before turning her attention to a familiar waiter approaching the table.
"Ah, I hope you don't mind, but I ordered some drinks for us on my way to the bathroom." Irritation radiated off of the rest of the occupants at the table.
He was carrying a tray of martinis, all delicately balanced on the tips of his fingers. The waiter held a calm expression on his face, not showing any strain from the effort of his movement and task. Practically gliding to the table, the waiter placed the tray down in the center and began distributing the martinis.
Irene sighed and began tapping her finger on the table, once, then three times. She reached into her purse, its leather strap laced around the end of her chair, and grabbed hold of a knife. The waiter grabbed Irene's martini and threw it onto the woman with the contacts. The liquid splashed across her entire face before being absorbed through the skin in a fraction of a second. The woman let out a startled gasp and promptly collapsed face-forward into the table. The waiter removed a pen from his jacket pocket and turned around. A few moments later, the pen projected a holographic image of a calm table, hiding what was occurring.
Snyder jumped out of her chair, but Irene stabbed her wrist with the knife before she could run away. Now pinned to the table, Snyder knelt on the ground and let out a growl, not of pain but rather of anger. Meanwhile, Linden remained frozen in his seat, utterly aware of what was happening but too scared to do anything. Irene got out of her chair and stepped around the table, so she was now on Snyder's right side, leaning in to whisper:
"Let me explain what's happening to your friend over there, if there is such a thing where you come from. The poison that's currently coursing through her veins is called Ratakara, a fast-acting poison that can either be ingested or absorbed through the skin. It comes from a squid native to Karkaris, which developed a poison to prevent the native Karkarodons from eating it. The victim is completely paralyzed, all motor functions cease, and they eventually die from a lack of oxygen. That's what's happening to your bodyguard; she can't breathe but can do nothing to stop. She's feeling the life slowly drain from her, while she can't even scream." Irene reached over and twisted her knife.
"You must hate us if you're going to all this trouble just to cause pain," Synder said through gritted teeth.
"Now that's where you're wrong; this all isn't just to hurt you. An Imperial Remnant was responsible for a particularly rough childhood, and the First Order is a continuation of the Imperial Remnants, but enacting revenge was not my primary motivation. The pain's just a bonus; this has been an intelligence mission. Draw out a First Order Intelligence agent, capture said agent, and raid their room while the capture occurs. To be honest, I never thought things would go this well. You just waltzed right into my trap like you're not a part of a massive military junta." Irene continued to twist her knife, looking directly into Snyder's eyes as she did.
"What can I say? I acted on the temptation of sabotaging the Republic through Corellian Engineering. Their navy is primarily built and maintained by joint efforts between the government and the company; this could have been the mission that would allow me to climb the ranks." Snyder looked over and glared at Linden.
Irene reached over and yanked Snyder's head back, forcing her to take her focus off of Linden.
"Enough about me or your friend, let's talk about you. I assume Snyder isn't your real name, a cover given to you by your First Order superiors. Based on your last comments, I'm also going to assume that you are low to a mid-level agent. That means, and this is just another assumption on my part, that your partner wasn't transmitting to another First Order officer but rather a database at an off-site location. I doubt anyone is going to come and rescue you in time."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Snyder asked.
"Nothing, just wanted to pass the time while my team comes to collect you." Irene slammed Snyder's head into the table, knocking her out.
Irene then turned her attention to Linden, who was still frozen and had not moved an inch since the whole incident began. Irene pushed the dead First Order officer's corpse onto the ground and started tapping on the table.
"Guess I'll just have to make conversation with you. So tell me, Linden, why help Crimson Dawn? Why help me build a cover? And why not go to the Republic instead?"
Linden curled up in a ball in his seat, arms laced over legs. He didn't speak for a long time, but when he did his voice was little more than a whisper and his tone betrayed a grave urgency.
"I recently discovered my wife has a genetic condition that results in death and that our children inherited her condition. The condition is entirely treatable but so expensive that you could buy an entire fleet with the money that could go into one person's treatment. But when the First Order approached me to pay for my wife and children's treatment."
Tears fell onto his cheeks, his whisper becoming a roaring tremble.
"I thought about going to the Republic. I'm a patriot, and I love the Republic, so I would never betray it. However, I'm not blind to its flaws. They might pay for the treatment, but bureaucracy would ensure that the funds I need would arrive far too late for the treatment to be viable. So I turned to Crimson Dawn, you guys are enemies of the First Order, and you can get me the funds I need a lot quicker than the Republic." Linden looked away from Irene.
"Hmph, a patriot. In accepting our help and participating in this incident, you've violated so many Republic laws that someone might call your love for the Republic a joke. But I'm not one to turn down a gift, especially one that benefits all parties involved. You fulfilled your part of the deal, and now I'll fulfill my part." Irene observed a Togruta, wearing a tuxedo, step through the hologram, followed by some hotel guests.
"Have Linden's family transported here immediately, arrange for their treatment as soon as they arrive. Get a bacta gauze wrapped around Snyder's wrist; I wouldn't want her to bleed out while we transport her off the planet. And one more thing,"—Irene glared at Linden—"If you breathe one word about what happened here, or about Crimson Dawn, I will hunt you down and make sure to torture you to an unimaginable degree of pain."
3 Hours Later
Iren stood in her private quarters on board a Crimson Dawn ship, having shed her upper-class dress and makeup. Now she wore combat pants, a camouflage shirt, and a combat jacket that held a thin layer of armor beneath its surface layer of cloth. Irene nursed a warm cup of caf, looking at her communication station for a sign that she was receiving a signal. She sighed and downed the last bits of caf, placing the cup on a nearby table. With her mission complete, Irene was now awaiting new orders for her to follow, which should have come in two hours ago.
"Of course, she's a busy person, can't expect her to be on time all the time," she muttered to herself.
Her communication console started beeping, with a red flashing light to pair. Irene rushed over to her console, eager to rid herself of her boredom. After pressing a few buttons, a holographic image her late to mid-sixties, the image was of a woman dressed in rather plain clothes considering the position the women held.
"My Lady Qi'ra, leader of Crimson Dawn, you honor me." Irene kneeled before the image.
"I wished you wouldn't do that; you're my daughter, not another operative." Qi'ra knelt, too, so she saw eye to eye with Irene.
"I can't help it; you rescued me from the hell of a planet. You'll always be more to me than just my adoptive mother, you're my savior." Irene got off her knees and bowed before returning to a standing position.
Qi'ra let out a frustrated sigh but decided to move the conversation along, "I've read the mission report, good work. Though I am concerned about some comments from the other operatives."
"Yes, they don't know the First Order like you and me. They haven't lived through an Imperial occupation, so they've never seen the horrors or hardships that come with the Empire. From their perspective, you seem to be acting foolish. Sure, the First Order has approached our rivals about a potential alliance with them, but your actions in actively opposing them is another matter entirely. They fear retaliation from the First Order, and because of that, some are voicing that your age is making your decision making abilites erratic. These are just a few operatives, but something needs to happen soon to show the threat of the First Order, or their support will grow," Irene explained.
Qi'ra turned around and reached for something just out of frame, turning back around to show a katana. She unsheathed the sword and held it up the light
"Cowards all of them, give me their names so I can have them executed. That should quell any dissenting voices for a little. Unfortunately, you are right. The First Order needs to start making bigger moves, or my hold on Crimson Dawn will start to slip. But we may have a solution or at least someone who can tell us if there is something big in the works." Qi'ra sheathed the sword and placed it in her belt.
"You mean the Resistance. I thought you hated that bunch?" Irene tilted her head in confusion.
"Irene, that's a lesson for you. Even people you hate can be assets. The Resistance might be an annoying bug, but they do have uses. They can go places and do things that the Republic can't. Come to me on Quantxi, the Junk Moon of Ord Mantell. I've arranged a meeting with some Resistance officers to discuss the decryption of some data they have; I want my daughter and right hand at my side when the meeting happens. Oh, and bring the Resistance members you captured; they could prove interesting."
The transmission ended, leaving Irene to fulfill the orders of her leader and mother. Though, before she left her room, she did stop to wonder what was about to happen. After all, getting involved with the Resistance can be...complicated business.