Talosian Embassy, entranceway of the Hallowed Chamber of Signing, Talosi VI, 18:27 GST
Ak'Dumann, Doreen high press secretary, voice of truth to the three peoples of Talosi, overworked barely twentysomething running on three hours of sleep, was not having fun. They had been, oh had they ever, only a few minutes ago. A decade of hoping, and praying, and spying their antenna off from sheer spite had finally culminated in a chance to mingle as an equal with beings of all manner of background. Princess Leia was here, for sith's sake, the woman was a legend even before the sacrifice of her planet for the rebellion.
For the princess to have brought her al'yht as well! To have named General Solo as such, for the first time publicly, at an event they had helped to make happen. Well. To say it was beyond their wildest dreams was something of an understatement. Ak had always followed reports of the heroes of the rebellion most closely, to actually meet them was thrilling beyond measure. To aid them? Transcendent.
As the being actually doing most of the paperwork for the imperial minister of propaganda, they had had practically unfettered access to the details of the resistance (the better to know what to cover up, they supposed). They had rather been rooting for the pilot and the princess, following her daring rescue from the death star, and even more so after the documentation of what exactly had caused the collapse of the Hutt crime syndicates reached their blue-lidded eyes. Of course, if anyone in the emperor's court knew that his esteemed master was passing off his work to a teenage (Doreen matured more quickly, but still) nonhuman there would be sith to pay, but discretion (or rather, cowardice) was the better part of valor for many, many imperials in those days.
In those days, honestly that I can even say that phrase in relation to the empire is such a gift, and all down to them. With what that blithering clorbag has done this peace could easily turn into the stellar nebula before the supernova, and we could wind up right back where we started, thought the young press secretary. Realistically it was unlikely to be exactly the same; the next sith that arose would have a much harder time being appointed to a governmental post, for one. Still, civil wars had torn apart enough fledgling federations to make them extremely worried about the possibility of a slip up. Hardly a slip up, this was meticulously planned. I would never have thought him capable, what was he thinking? Coercion, perhaps? Blackmail? Nothing could call to a higher duty than what he has to his planet though, surely, and I hadn't thought him so weak and dishonorable.
Nothing to be done about what had already happened, there was only damage control. How, though? No one would be suspicious if they popped into the hall of signing for a moment, but how could they change anything without it being noticed? The fact was, honor called them to uphold both the sanctity of the signing ceremony and the hospitality of their planet, and right now those were mutually exclusive. Oh if only I hadn't overheard Duud talking to the head quafferian, Ak thought despairingly.
They had stumbled across the conspirators two only minutes ago, having wanted to consult with the head diplomat on the potential to incorporate some marvelous Corellian conversational tactics into their delegate's training. Only to overhear that Shadi'Duud, architect of the treaty himself, had arranged to poison the chief delegate of the opposite faction! With such a nefarious drug as xaxor, even! Ak spared a moment to wonder where the conspirators would even have obtained such a fiendish substance. It was highly controlled, after all, but (after a moment) they realized that of course a high ranking quafferian such as Baa'Riipk would have access to all kinds of distillations and solutions.
Xaxor was something most Thalosians only ever heard whispers of. A poison so subtle, so insidious, that it was banned the world over. It could be added to any liquid to create an undetectable and deadly mixture, a fact Dumann was terrifyingly aware of. Once or twice an official had outlived their usefulness to the imperial regime, and the drug of choice for sentient pest removal had always been the same. Ak'Dumann could remember his erstwhile boss mentioning that it was good of the secret police to use something so untraceable. Residue vanished within 12 standard hours, and all but the highest level of med-scanner would be fooled as to the cause of death if it was paired with conventional alcohol. The substance magnified the effects of whatever other poison it was paired with, and so a single drop of emerald ale became enough to lead to the quick elimination of a threat to the status quo.
As the young Doreen entered the hall, they noticed they were not alone. What is General Solo doing here? They thought, Oh heavens, he's likely discovered the plot. After all, a seasoned operative would certainly be more aware than I. Perhaps he has a solution? Or perhaps he's planning on derailing the whole ceremony to save the Princess. Would I even stop them? The thought was nigh-treasonous, but she was his al'yht. His loyalty would rightly be to her above all else. Perhaps if I can arrange to be knocked unconscious attempting to stop him…would that count as being an accomplice?
Ak must have made a small noise during their internal panic; truly they were out of practice since the empire had collapsed. Their internal screaming used to be much more unobtrusive. In any case the general was very much aware of their presence, but seemed to have relaxed after a moment, recognizing them. Perhaps their shared moment of camaraderie earlier, with the shattering of frozen water ritual, might have endeared them slightly. Hopefully they could skip the suspicions and get straight to the conspiring.
"General Solo, I take it from your presence here that you have become aware of my…associate's…despicable actions regarding the Kas-chal'ish?" Dumann said formally, managing to add astonishing disgust to a word that was technically an accurate description of their relation to that son-of-a-gundark.
"Well, I'm not really sure if I would call it despicable," said General Solo, "I don't know enough about how you guys do stuff here, but where I'm from you don't put anything in a lady's drink she don't know about. Xaxor especially."
I don't know whether to be flattered that he's being considerate of my culture, or offended because he thinks it might include an excuse for such horrible actions. Oh, but of course, Corella has its own honor codes that might seem barbaric to other worlds. He's likely quite sick of that sort of judgment. Flattery it is then.
"So," continued the human, examining the ceremonial arrangements, "I figure I have a pretty good idea of what's got to be done to fix this without derailing the ceremony, but maybe you can tell me if there's another way."
"I didn't know there was a single way," said the young Doreen miserably. "I apologize profusely for the actions of my planetman, and I'll do anything in my power to help you, General Solo, I give you my word of honor." Dangerous indeed to give one's word to an outworlder, but then really what was this treaty if not that writ large?
The general nodded decisively, then turned back to the table, and pointed at a pair of chalices. "That one's mine, and that one's Leia's, right? And Leia's is the one with the extra kick?"
"Yes, that is correct," replied Ak. He'd never heard the phrase before, but likely it was related to the Coruscanti vernacular 'to kick the bucket.' One of the higher ups in his department had been quite fond of that particular bit of slang. Particularly in regards to non-humans.
"Right, so since Leia's the one signing the treaty, I figure I can just do that, what did you call it, Kas-chal'ish Draagfla?" said the general. "Xaxor takes a while to kick in; if I slip off to one of the other rooms while you guys are doing that bit with the hourglass of contemplation, nobody should notice until after it's all over, right?"
Ak'Dumann thought it took rather a lot to truly take them aback. They could be shocked, certainly. Learning of their colleague's treachery was certainly a disappointment. Working for the empire for a decade, however, would tend to grant stiff antenna. This was something else entirely to backstabbing, and oppression, and lies. For an outworlder to lay down their life for the sake of the three peoples' treaty. To take so seriously his sacred bonds that he would swallow poison for she who was held highest in his devotions.
"I, I see no reason such a course should be forbidden, save the cost to yourself," stammered Ak. "You would still need to finish your glass to complete the ritual, you understand?"
"Sure, but I've drunk worse stuff for worse reasons. Better me than her highness, anyhow," the general said.
Oh, better neither of you, Ak thought fiercely, better Duud should have died before doing such a deed, requiring such a sacrifice.
"You'll help then? Find me a place to lie low, and keep this quiet until after the treaty's secure?" asked General Solo.
"Even from the prin-" Ak began, but was cut off.
"ESPECIALLY from her. There will be fireworks when she finds out, so it'll be smarter to ask forgiveness than permission," said General Solo.
Yes, I can certainly see how a foolish poisoning leading to the death of her al'yht would cause a famed rebel leader to start lighting things on fire, thought Ak. Having already taken down a galaxy spanning empire, should we really underestimate her ability to take on a planetary one? We certainly never blew up any planets, haven't got a single sith… so far as I know.
"If that is how you believe it must be, General Solo, I will do as you say. I admit I have no alternative," Ak said, as though each word physically pained them. Such senseless suffering! For what? The minute this treaty is finalized, I am going to make Shadi (or whatever is left of him after the princess finishes) wish he'd never been born.
"Call me Han, Ak, seein' as how we're in this together and all," said the former smuggler with a grin, switching the glasses.
Such courage! To face painful death with a smile, to laugh in the face of oblivion. "Of course, Han, and you have my most sincere thanks for that which you do tonight, this I assure you," the young Doreen added to the gesture of respect a hand flutter denoting additional honor, and left the room to attempt to compose themself. They barely noted the expression of slight bemusement on the human's face as they left.
Doreen did not cry, not in the same way as humans, but Ak'Dumann wished desperately for a moment that they could. That they could shed tears for this remarkable man, could offer some acknowledgment for his sacrifice in their sorrow. Also, it would be considerably easier to pass themselves off as happily excited if they just had to expel liquid from their eyes for a few minutes, instead of having two bright blue tells standing up (or rather, drooping down forlornly) atop their head. I haven't had to wear my braces since I heard about the second death star, I didn't even pack them...I suppose I'll stop by the drinks station and press some swizzle sticks and tape into service. If anyone asks it's a treasured custom of my clan for treaty signings, I've gotten away with a lot using that lately. At least, thought Ak'Dumann grimly, the suppression of their people's traditions might for this one moment be useful, to help them aid this brave human in his noble purpose.
End note: One of my favorite tropes; people talking to each other and having two completely different conversations via the same dialogue. Mmm, melodrama.
Also, added more ST:TOS references. Muahahaha.