Thirty-Four
Chiss Expansionary Defense Force warship Tempest
17 ATC
Verani had not been particularly surprised when one of the Chiss soldiers had taken her aside and quietly informed her that the Ascendancy representative would like to have a private meeting with her before the talks officially started. Such off-the-record conversations were where the real negotiations happened, when both parties could discuss matters free from their governments' watchful eyes.
So she let herself be escorted to a room that was barely three meters long and two meters wide, furnished solely with two chairs set facing one another. There were no viewports, and nothing to indicate what the room was normally used for. Verani took a seat in the chair facing the door, and her escort departed, leaving her alone to think.
This initial meeting would provide valuable insight into how the rest of the negotiations would go. Verani kept herself calm and composed in front of her subordinates, but deep down she couldn't help but be a bit nervous. The defining moment of her entire career was upon her, and if she failed…
It was best not to dwell on such things. She had confidence in her ability to succeed.
She waited. One didn't get far in her line of work without cultivating a degree of patience that a Jedi might envy. Now Jedi, those were frustrating. They were always so implacable, so fixated on the greater good. Verani preferred dealing with lesser politicians, the greedier the better. Promise them just enough power and wealth, and they'd sign over their planets to Imperial domination. Easy. No need to keep the promises when one was done.
The Chiss, however, were a difficult people to bargain with. In many ways, they were similar to the Empire, with their rigidly formal society and emphasis on family identity. In the end, the key had been to appeal to them as equals.
But not all Chiss saw the Empire as an equal. Many viewed Imperials in the same way that many Imperials viewed them: alien, therefore inferior. It was, in Verani's opinion, amusingly symmetrical.
The door opened. Verani immediately returned her focus to the present, looking up to see a pair of soldiers deferentially flanking a stately Chiss woman in formal garb.
They had only ever met once, but Verani recognized her right away.
Aristocra Mitth'elen'invari of the Eighth Ruling Family was tall, like most of her people. Her face was all delicate angles, her pale blue skin adding to the impression that she had been carved from a piece of glacial ice. Lines finely etched around her eyes and mouth and across her forehead bespoke a lifetime of stern expressions. Her hair, hanging loose around her shoulders, was more gray than black.
She looked down her long nose at Verani, then said something to her guards in musical Cheunh. The soldiers saluted and left.
And then it was just the two of them.
Not worried about me trying to assassinate her, I see, Verani noted. "Aristocra," she said, not even bothering to attempt pronouncing her name. She'd surely only get it wrong and cause offense. "It is a pleasure to once again make your acquaintance. Adrielle Verani, Imperial Diplomatic Service."
"I recall," Mitth'elen'invari said. Her voice was deep and quiet. A slight lilt colored her otherwise Imperial-accented Basic. She seated herself in the chair across from Verani, her posture perfectly straight, and folded her hands in her lap.
"I'm honored that you have chosen to attend these negotiations personally," Verani said.
"Flattery," Mitth'elen'invari remarked. Her full mouth twisted slightly. "Assurances will follow, to put me at ease. Then a little groveling, to establish the illusion of supplication. Your tactics have not changed, Adrielle Verani, and you will find them no more effective now than they were at our last meeting."
"I see we are speaking plainly, then," Verani said, decades of practice letting her speak calmly despite the tense knots rapidly tightening in her stomach.
"For now."
"If you're here to discourage me from going through with the talks, I will not back down."
"I do not expect you to. This is only a warning."
Verani narrowed her eyes. "A warning of what?"
"Your Empire's exploitation of the Ascendancy's people and resources is at an end," Mitth'elen'invari said flatly. "It has already been decided. These negotiations are a formality to appease the moderates within my government."
Verani stared at her in surprise for a moment; she had never expected such a blatant admission of the truth she had suspected from the beginning. "We shall see, Aristocra," she said finally. "We may yet change your mind."
"Perhaps," Mitth'elen'invari murmured. "But I think not. Good day." She rose to her feet and left the room as abruptly as she had entered.
The door closed behind her, and Verani sagged against the back of her chair. Despite her best efforts, a sense of resignation was beginning to well up within her.
No, she thought determinedly. She forced herself back upright, clenching her fists in her lap. I won't let her walk all over me. I can still find a way to convince her. This isn't the same Empire that tried to negotiate with her ten years ago. I can use that.
She had stood and watched while Darth Ravage personally executed her predecessor. That would not be her fate. She would not allow it.
One week later
The section of the Chiss ship where the Imperials had been confined by the polite suggestion not to wander had a small lounge with a viewport that covered half the outer wall. Situated as they were out towards the galactic rim, the view facing back towards the core seemed to show the entire galaxy in a dazzling array of stars. A dappled violet nebula was visible off to one side, somewhere fairly close by on a cosmic scale.
Kettrien Byrd stood before the viewport and took it all in. She had yet to find a starscape that didn't awe her with its magnificence, and this one was particularly spectacular. There were so many stars out there, spread across a distance too vast for her mind to really comprehend. And around those stars were planets, some barren, others inhabited, trillions of lives spread out before her in an exquisite tapestry of being.
A sense of her own personal insignificance weighed down upon her as she regarded the galaxy. In the end, no matter how strong in the Force she was, no matter how unique her status as a Sith agent was, she was just another one of the invisible multitude floating in the infinite night.
It was a comforting thought. As long as there were people more important than her, she got to worry less. Kettrien hated worrying.
Soft footsteps and a shift in the currents of the living Force alerted her to the fact that she had company a moment before she heard Vector Hyllus' soft voice.
"It's quite a view, isn't it?" he remarked, moving up next to her. He kept himself at a respectful distance; she was a Sith, after all, and if there was one thing Imperials had ingrained in them, it was how to observe the proprieties.
"I can't seem to get tired of looking at it," Kettrien agreed.
"Sometimes it seems as if the closer one ventures to the edge of the galaxy, the more wonders there are to behold."
"In the natural world, sure. Civilization has a bit of a knack for stamping those out." Kettrien looked away from the viewport and surveyed the sleek lines of the room around her. "But civilization itself can be pretty wondrous, I think."
"We're inclined to agree," Vector said thoughtfully. "There are so many societies out there, each with history and culture all their own. We joined the Diplomatic Service in hopes of learning about as many of them as we could."
Kettrien glanced over and saw the stars reflected in his solid black eyes, as if space had come inside the ship to rest in two small pools. She knew what Killik Joiners were, more or less, and she couldn't help but wonder if he'd learned more than he'd bargained for.
She nearly asked him about it, but stopped herself at the last minute. It was probably best not to direct prying questions at a man who worked directly for Seeker.
Where was Seeker, anyway? Kettrien hadn't seen the woman in days. Probably off doing spymaster things. Whatever those were.
"The Empire is great and all," she said to avoid an awkward silence, "but Dromund Kaas is very, ahem, human. It was actually a bit of a shock when I first moved there."
Vector tilted his head very slightly to one side. "You are from elsewhere in the Empire, then?"
"Actually, I'm not from the Empire at all," Kettrien admitted. Vector seemed like a nice guy, not the sort to get on her case about it. There was probably no harm in telling him.
Indeed, his only reaction was to regard her with increased curiosity. "Where are you from, if you don't mind our asking?"
"Nar Shaddaa." Kettrien laced her fingers together and stretched her arms out in front of her, gently cracking her knuckles. "Now there's a place where you see a lot of interesting people. You just have to be careful not to get shot. Or stabbed. Or punted over the railing of a sky palace." She shook her head. "I told him not to bet against a Wookiee."
"It sounds as if you've led an interesting life."
Kettrien shrugged. "I guess so. I mean, I had fun, but it was also dangerous. Very dangerous. When I crossed paths with Lord Savadar, and he offered to train me as a Sith, I certainly wasn't about to say no. And now here I am, practically a proper Imperial. Learned to fake the accent and everything."
"Your skills of imitation are very impressive, then," Vector said. "You sound quite natural."
"It's a talent of mine," Kettrien drawled. "All part of the 'Sith but also spy' package."
Vector nodded. "We can see how such abilities would be useful."
"Speaking of useful, I hear the negotiations aren't going too well." An abrupt change of subject, to be sure, but she wanted to shift the topic of conversation away from herself. Thinking about such things for too long led her down paths of memory to things she really didn't want to recall.
"They are not," Vector said quietly, a small frown appearing on his face.
"It's been what, a standard week now? And nothing is happening." Kettrien shook her head.
"The Chiss Aristocra has thus far refused to compromise, no matter what is offered."
Kettrien frowned. "Why bother, then? If she's not willing to work with us, then she's not willing to work with us. We may as well stop wasting our time here."
"Diplomacy requires patience, Agent Byrd."
"Please, just call me Kettrien." At least he'd gone the Intelligence route rather than the Sith one. Being called my lord every third word was incredibly annoying, which was why she pretended to be a civilian most of the time.
"Very well." Vector inclined his head. "As we were saying, these things require time. We have not yet been able to find a way to reach an accord with the Aristocra, but that does not mean a way does not exist."
"Maybe," Kettrien said dubiously. "I still get the sense that this isn't going to go anywhere."
"Perhaps not. We must be persistent, however."
"Yeah, well, good luck with that." Kettrien turned away from the viewport. "I'm going to go see if this place has anything to drink."
