Hit Me With Your Best Offer

[Morgana DeLaTour]

"For Frak's sake! I'll tear these suckers apart myself!"

The voice boomed through the VIP room in the depth of the higher floor of Club Litoral, one of Vilara's many lucrative business on Ralltiir. The Zeltron woman in her sixties was fuming and even downing her glass of whiskey didn't soothe her one bit. How dared those little fuckers of Black Sun come do business on her territory? Did she invite them? Damn not. She wasn't against doing business and trades with other organizations but her homeworld was her kriffin jurisdiction, and no one should effin tell her that illegal and criminal matters shouldn't talk about "jurisdiction" like one stupid law officer had tried to explain to her before she shot him in the head many years before.

Her hand didn't shake one bit as she grabbed her comlink and waited for her call to be picked up.

"Morgana. Come to the Litoral. I need your help." She didn't even wait for her granddaughter to say anything. She knew that she would come without asking questions. It was rare that Vilara was in such a hurry but when she was, there was solid reasons.

She beckoned one of her lieutenants present in the room, besides the one who had just confirmed rumors that had filtered for the past weeks. "You'd better bring me all the bloody info you have. I need it for when Morgana arrives. And make sure that there are liters of caf ready. Gonna be a long night."

***

Morgana groaned as she got her grandmother's call. She was in the middle of working on a new small Light Sculpture. Her art was one of the most complicated crafts and being interrupted wasn't something she tolerated. Yet, she knew that if her grandmother had called for her as she did, it was an emergency. She could respect that and Vilara had been there for her every time she had needed her. So, the brunette in her thirties took fifteen mroe minutes to finish what she was doing, so she wouldn't lose any of her progress.

She was almost on her way out when she remembered she was supposed to head to the club. She had better things to do than bothe r changing for a more fitting outfit. She prefered being comfortable when working for hours in her study or in her grandmother's VIP room as she bet it was where she'd be until dawn, if not later.

She had her datapads, and assorted supplies and that was all she needed. Hopping in one of her favorite speeders, she had the engines roar in the blink of an eye as she vanished into the night, speeding up to see what was up with her grandmother.

[Morgana DeLaTour]

Though Club Litoral wasn't her favorite place to go out dancing, Morgana liked the place, especially since her grandmother's entertainment director had a knack for picking up the best D.J. around. Hell, a few off-world names had even accepted contracts every once in a while. Yet tonight, she was here for busines and not to shake her ass in sync to the beat. Shame really, because the music was particularly good.

She zoomed upstairs to get to the VIP lounge where she found her grandmother. She barely acknowledged security and the close collaborators and subordinates she knew well. She planted herself on the couch and put her bag next to her, already bringing her datapads, flimsi sheets and stylo to the table before her.

"Bring me up to speed," she stated while getting ready for whatever was up. She guessed her mathematician's skills would come in handy as it often was why she was called in emergency. She had helped tracking pests as well as calculate itinaries for some deliveries. Most of it could sound utterly menial given what she could do, but every once in a while a good challenge happened.

Vilara was staring at a holo display above the center piece of the table. "Been having some Black Sun scum put their nose on my territory. Not against this merry band but I don't like when dren's done behind my back. Drug dealing's part of my playground and my business. Nobody comes poaching on my bloody territory without retaliation."

Morgana gave a look at her grandmother, knowing well enough that everybody in the room was familiar with the quick-tempered Zeltron. Vilara shrugged and brought up another display. "It's been small drug operations and it didn't last so long. We recognized affiliation to the Black Sun with some targets we got down, but it's likely they ran through middle men and women. I want to know where the shipments came from. We don't have that much information but I'm hoping you can work your science and shed some light on this mess."

The brunette nodded and input some more controls to have as many displays as possible show up.

"Tell me the caf is ready, grandma."

Vilara chuckled darkly and gestured for one of her men just bringing up a tray. "Of course, sweetheart. As much as you need until we localize our targets."

[Morgana DeLaTour]

The next hours felt like eternity sounded like a quick vacation in comparison. Morgana wished she had more information. She got snappy more than once and her grandmother's thinly hidden impatience wasn't helping either. They were too much alike for their own good at times, especially when they had to work together.

There was nothing to be found from the actual places of delivery on Ralltiir. It made practical sense but indicated now useful pattern for where they might hail from, even with cross referencing off world shipments of several sorts in the recent months. All Morgana could really work with was the routes given to the control stations and how some crafts had followed the ships to a certain distance from the planet. A transponder had been hidden on one of the last delivery ships but the craft had gone a completely different route, and the transponder had stopped emitting, meaning it had been found and destroyed. Blast it, whoever was behind this knew they were being tracked. She had no way of knowing whether they'd expect Vilara's organization to be said persons, but one never knew. What was weird was that the Black Sun hadn't tried to work with Vilara. Morgana understood they thought they were bigger than nature, but other off world criminal organizations had worked with Vilara before and frankly there were other markets than Ralltiir.

"Did any of your contacts report anything since you got these maps and itinaries?" She asked her grandmother, before downing another cup of caf.

The Zeltron older lady shrugged and beckoned one of her lieutenants. They exchanged a few words and the man left for the moment.

"We've been waiting to hear back from two of them. So far, nothing." Vilara's tone was normal but Morgana wondered whether said contacts might still be alive or not.

[Morgana DeLaTour]

After a few other hours, Morgana emptied the next pot of caf. "I'm not seeing bloody straight. I need more room. I need my boards to be able to make sense. Just frelling holo projections aren't going to cut it. Y'know I'm too hands on for that."

Vilara who had almost dozzed off nodded and shrugged sleepiness off. "Not sure we have any here, but Ryas can go fetch some at your place."

Morgana growled. "Nobody's going to get in my study without me being here!" She could be a team player but there were boundaries and people coming and going in her private office was something she hated. She was also an "organized chaos" kind of woman, but only she saw the order in the mayhem that reigned in her universe.

"Just gimme bloody thirty minutes. I'll go fetch them. And I need those damn coordinates you mentioned from that trip where your contacts had altercations at a refuel station. There was something I saw in the reports that might relate it to your pests showing their faces on Ralltiir."

Without further ado, she got to her feet, grabbed her jacket and headed for the parking lot.

[Morgana DeLaTour]

Being on her own felt so good. Most people in the VIP lounge were careful not to disturb her but at the same time, Morgana always prefered working alone. She needed the peace and quiet and not have eyes on her all the time if she was busy with projects. She wasn't an idiot and knew that there was a degree of emergency to the situation. She was doing her damn best but she was no magician. Frankly, she wished she was sometimes, but she knew better.

Once she reached her place, she started by taking a quick shower and change clothes because she felt like a stinky bantha. All refreshed, she was ready to take on a nest of gundarks by herself again.

Heading to her study, she carefully made her way to the back of the room and fetched what she needed without disturbing the rest of her equipment.

In the middle of her house's lobby, she suddenly had an idea and began to scribble on the transparent physical display board. Some connections began to appear, based on memory of what she had worked in the recent hours.

Grabbing her comlink, she called her grandmother, asking for some input. Vilara asked her why she wasn't back already and Morgana pressed her for the details she needed. Her grandmother sighed but replied, sticking to what the younger woman needed.

While listening to Vilara, the mathematician's scribbling became more intense and complicated but she finally started to see something shape up before her eyes.

[Morgana DeLaTour]

The sun was tearing darkness apart when Morgana made it back to her grandmother's lair. She reorganized her display boards to make most sense. Right when she was about to say what she had found, which wasn't much but more than what they had to start with, one of the crime lady's stomped in to the room, providing updates about one of the missing contacts, confirming the other missing, and likely dead.

The contact who had reached out talked about managing to eavesdrop interesting conversation and barely running away before catching attention. The Human and Zeltron hybrid pursed her lips as she looked at her equations and writings. She still felt like she was missing something. She needed that key, whatever it was, that would bring clarity to this mess.

She walked back to the table and browsed through several maps she had consulted earlier, checking a few things regarding the location where the contact had spyed on leads.

After another hour, she stepped back and looked at the results of what she had worked on. Looking back and forth with the holomaps of the sector where everything was leading to, she grumbled. A Sector was a huge improvement but was still a huge zone to investigate.

"That's not a Sector I would have expected, but that's why I called you in," Vilara startled her granddaughter as she came to stand by her side.

"Grandma, it'll take you gods-know-how-long to find more. That's how far I can go with what we have."

Vilara didn't reply and narrowed her eyes at the boards' display, before pulling up information about a world whose name Morgana ignored.

"So that's why I've heard your name crop up in conversations and rumors for the past months. Hmmmm...."

Morgana stared at her grandmother wondering who or what the elder Zeltron meant, for both of them had a tendency to speak to themselves, people not here or even objects.

"Is your schedule clear for the next few days, my sweet?"

The mathematician frowned. "Yeah.... Why?"

Vilara flashed her a devilish grin.

"We're going to Thule. Leaving tomorrow, well today in five hours. We'll sleep on the way."

[Tear]

Before hyper drives space pioneers would spend years aboard a star craft. Children were born, parents passed on, families would be raised on ships floating between planetoids on a back drop of endless stars. It’s hard not to be romantic with the concept of these generational vessels. They sell holonet novels, people read about legendary characters and their forays into the unknown.

The reality of space travel is hardly romantic. You’re alone. The stars though unyielding in their number, bright and hopeful are millions of light years away from you. Between your ship and the next planet you hope to reach is a void. There is nothing. No sound. No life. And even though there’s nothing around, you are trapped. Your space is quantified. There are walls that cannot be stepped beyond because on the other side death waits, cold and lonely, tapping on your ship’s hull.

TONG TONG.

A fist knocked against the Ralltiir star yacht’s airlock. The ship had been intercepted by Imperial patrols just as it had arrived outside of Thules orbit. The dock master had hailed the vessel demanding they verify their approved access transponder and trade itinerary, and when they failed to produce them fighter craft swarmed in.

Thule was swollen with activity. Trade ships dripped in thick streams from a massive shipyard that ringed half the planet. Their traffic was deliberate and organized. Straight lines lead to station check points. Ships were verified before clearance was given to leave orbit or to enter. Beyond the bustle of commercial ships there was a swath of military vessels on display. Star destroyers roamed in squadrons of six with fighter craft running to and fro in formation. The shipyard itself looked like it was under construction yet in its harbour were ships being constructed, as if the act of being built and building were interchangeable.

It was into one of the more completed sections of the station that the Ralltiir star yacht was escorted with a squad of storm troopers awaiting their arrival. The airlock decompressed and rolled aside to the tune of heavy metal and pressurized gears. Storm troopers clad in black with a red sash down their left shoulders stood at the entrance, weapons drawn. They moved with a routine efficiency into and through the ship. The soldiers located and gathered the crew into the hanger while other troopers finished clearing the ship and its cargo, if there was any to be found.

If Morgana and her mother had attempted to speak up or interject to the actions of the troopers they would have been ignored. If they had decided to resist they would have been dragged, or worse, stunned and then dragged, into the hanger. Strolling in, once the troopers had finished clearing the ship, was another Imperial, but this one wore no armor, just the black uniform of an officer.

“Ladies,” The officer began as he locked eyes with the older looking woman. Her posture and annoyance in the rough welcome was one of a markedly superior attitude, setting her apart from the other crew that were likely familiar with the experience of being ‘in the way’. “No permits to operate or approved trade itinerary. Thule can be a very unwelcoming place for those visiting without those two items. What brings you here?”

[Morgana DeLaTour]

While both Vilara and Morgana had fiery temperaments, they were clever enough to know when to cooperate. Thus, they hadn't gone against the actions of the troopers when they went to check the ship. There was no incriminating proof or anything illegal aboard. Vilara was ready to wring someone's neck, but it was the person getting in the way of her business, not the troopers doing their job.

When spoken to, Vilara was the one to answer, Morgana standing by her side, ready to speak her piece as well. They weren't just family, they were business partners too who had years of experience working together, even if it wasn't the mathematician's only professional occupation.

"My business operations have been subject to illegal concurrence from outsiders and Dr. DeLaTour found out that they came from Thule. This is why we came here to try to clear things up and avoid further issues."

Morgana's gaze remained on the official they were speaking to. She wasn't full-blood Zeltron and her pheromones weren't as strong as her grandmother's but she noticed how neutral Vilara remained for now and didn't rely on her own. Vilara was the kind of woman ready to do anything to protect her organization and her people, but she wasn't the kind to do anything hasty unless there was no other options.

[Tear]

“Is that so?” The officer’s right eyebrow tried to touch his hair line. He turned, briefly looking over the woman who was gestured to be Dr. DeLaTour.

Vilara and her men weren’t the only ship and crew in the hanger. Around them ships were docking and unloading or loading and leaving. Despite the strict order being maintained by the Imperials it was still a bustling hive of activity kept just beyond sight only by the picket fence of storm troopers surrounding them.

“So, just so I am clear on the situation. You are here to ‘clear up’ criminal activity that is interfering with your business operations?” The officer seemed to be in his mid forties but lines of age deepened around his eyes making him look much older and worn. Grey hair licked back from his temples, barely visible from straight on but stark in contrast when he turned his head to read over a data pad that had been handed to him.

“I assume your business is located on Ruull-tiir. Ralltiir?” The officer tested out two pronunciations for the planet. “Since that’s where your flight plan has you departing from. Do correct me if I’m wrong on any of these points.”

The man smiled.

“What sort of business do you operate there?”

[Morgana DeLaTour]

Vilara and Morgana remained unfazed by the busy activity unfolding in the hangar. The fact that it was still a strong hub of activity proved that their trail made sense as it was likely that much happened around there, regardless of the imperial presence. Both women had dealt with their fair deal of complications and even danger and the mathematician knew that her grandmother wouldn't let go until she unveiled the illegal concurrence.

When the officer asked for her to confirm what her grandmother was saying, she stared back and curtly nodded. "Our business is indeed located on Ralltiir," she added.

Her grandmother smiled when asked about what type of business she had on their home world. That was the beauty of having many official and legal ventures besides pulling strings over the local underworld. "What brings us here as to do with our activity as goods providers to the medical and charity sectors." None of that was a lie and could be verified. It just wasn't all of the truth but it was a valid angle to come to check what was happening on Thule.

[Tear]

“Medical and Charity.” The officer, who had yet to introduce himself, made a note on his pad. “Yes, I can understand how criminal ‘activities’ might disrupt such businesses.”

The aged Imperial carefully scratched at his hairline making sure not to loosen a strand from his perfectly slicked hair. He then tucked the pad beneath his arm and patiently clasped his fingers together at his front.

And then he stared at the two women. He said nothing, letting the cacophony of the landing bay fill the air between them.

“Do you know what an Imperial Inquisitor is?” The officer asked, looking down at his clasped hands. He didn't wait for an answer. “A specialized group of individuals tasked with hunting down and exterminating dissension in any of its many forms. But most often it took the form of the mythic and often troublesome ‘force user’.”

Still looking down the officer continued, “I tell you this because I was once an Inquisitor. I now manage this stations traffic. A lesser job to some, but I enjoy the work, I find it similar to my old job. I get to determine who passes, who is kept, who is telling the truth and who is lying.”

Unclasping his hands the Inquisitor gave his chin a thoughtful rub, his eyes still downcast. “I think you’re telling the truth, but I sense a reluctance to elaborate on the details. After all, who am I, some Port master?" The man smiled, "But now you know.”

This world, while Imperial is not free to travelers. We have no guests. No merchants make it planet fall. You will not have freedom to pursue your investigations.”

The Inquisitor paused again, to remove the data pad and ready it for more note taking. “So, you will tell me the details of this criminal activity. The people you assume are involved. How it equates to Thule and what you want to do about it. Then I, Inquisitor Thelin, will decide the fate of your…investigation.”

[Morgana DeLaTour]

The two women listened to the former inquisitor as he was quite straightforward with them. They also knew that even Vilara who was pure Zeltron might not want to use her pheromones on an imperial in the middle of imperial territory. Yet such hindering elements were not to deter either of them. They exchanged a brief look, and Morgana decided to move forward, although she bet it annoyed her grandmother, but Vilara had not risen to her position in the underworld without knowing what her best option might be in a given situation.

"Inquisitor Thelin, certain medical components have been taken over by black market operations for what we could found. The trail partially led up to the Black Sun but it turned out to be a dead end."

She handed him a datapad she had personally gathered and encrypted. "Here are all the information we got so far, along with the different pathways that pointed us to Thule."

She hoped that they would find some answers as so far they were stuck on Ralltiir. Of course, they might be bargaining for a lot by barging in, albeit respectfully, into imperial territory, but all this mess was suspicious.

[Tear]

Inquisitor Thelin, took the pad, his cheeks inflating with a long breath as he began to dubiously read over its contents. He had the straight-backed stature of a man who, might shake your hand with his left, while shanking you with the right. It wouldn’t be a prison shanking though. It would be polite, procedural, and with the appropriate amount of bureaucracy. When it was done you would be left with a receipt.

This time, however, the Inquisitors furrowed, and scrupulous brow began to soften. He scrolled through the pad, blinked, brought the pad closer, and continued to read.

“I see.” He stated, his eyes still snapping from left to right across the pad. “Quite fascinating. Integration by reduction, recurrence relation, predictive validity. This is an impressive amount of data you have gathered Dr.DeLaTour.”

Finally, Thelin’s eyes broke from the pad as he lowered it, locking his gaze on Morgana. “Who else has seen this?”

[Morgana DeLaTour]

Morgana had received grants and a couple of high-standing professional awards for her work as a mathematician, since her Light Sculpture was more of a hobby despite her significant talent for it too, much of a natural extension of her mathematical gift she thought. Yet seeing the imperial appreciate the value of the work she had provided in regards to what was going on with her aunt's operations, which thankfully could remain under legal guise with their approach, felt good.

She was more and more curious about all of this, but the half Zetron knew how to keep her sabacc face and look neutral in most circumstances. Her grandmother had taught her well. And Vivella also knew that her granddaughter had done much of the research, so they made a good team. They could both be overbearing at times, but knew when it was not appropriate to be. And right now, playing by the rules and respecting protocol was the smart choice.

"Only the two of us. Most original data was obtained through my grandmother's security, but nobody but us has seen my research, sir."

[Tear]

Thelin didn’t reply at first, instead allowing silence to seep in and fill the space between them. He was still scrolling through the data pad for a time until finally his eyes flicked up, providing a judging look to both women in turn.

“Good.” The inquisitor finally replied, chewing the end of the word as his gaze returned to the pad. He then turned, swiveling on his heel. “Follow me ladies.”

The salt and pepper haired man offered a crooked, ‘come hither’, finger as he leads both women from the Cargo bay and down several long corridors. The option to follow was insisted upon by four storm troopers, the foremost of which nudged at them with their weapon. The chaos of the cargo bay faded sharply, replaced with the polished tidiness of the Empire. The hallways were spartan save for the odd plodding of a maintenance droid, or the bent over form of a technician fiddling with a power relay.

“I must confess we are familiar with the activities of the Black Sun.” Thelin spoke with the slightest over the shoulder twist. “We receive reports of their activities though, truthfully, I was unaware they were operating on your …little world.”

After a one left turn and one right turn they arrived at what Thelin seemed to insist was his office. Heavy doors slid open and inside darkness clung to the far end of the room. He offered an outstretched hand and invited they enter, “Ladies first.”

Again, the Storm troopers insisted. The muzzles of their weapons pushing into both Morgana and her Grandmother’s backs. When they had entered, Thelin tapped a button and the heavy doors hissed shut separating the women from their escort. The room illuminated and, what was likely suspected by the pair, it was no office but rather an airlock.

There was a chime and Thelin’s voice came through a speaker, “I must convey my gratitude in delivering this data to us. While I am a hobbyist of mathematics, this is a little beyond my level of understanding. I am positive though that once escalated up the line we will be able to prevent others from tracing the Black Sun’s shipments back to Thule.”

Thelin tapped the data pad lightly against the small viewport, as the lights in the room flicked to red with a ka-chunk. An automated count down began.

Two minutes until decompression.

“Worry not about your crew. We’ll dispose of them quickly. We’ll also relay your personal information to the Black Sun and I’m sure they’ll take care of your businesses and any other troublesome associates.”

Thelin’s face replaced the data pad in the view port of the airlock door. “Once again, you have my thanks ladies. Good bye.”

[Morgana DeLaTour]

Morgana had a bad feeling about it, and she wasn't as good as her grandmother to hide it. Vilara had the greatest Sabacc face she had ever seen, and the gods knew with how many people she had interacted with in many different spheres over the years. Something didn't add up, and when they were taken to what happened to be an airlock, she knew they were frakked and not in a fun way. She didn't even have to exchange a look with her grandmother to know that there was no time for that. Vilara was the first to figure something to say. Two minutes were one hell of a short time, but they were not going to give up so easily.

"You want to smuggle things on Ralltir and get the underworld? You're killing the one who has run most of it for decades," Vilara said very coldly. The Imperials always thought that they could run anything and nothing but the Black Sun, while a thorn in the Zeltron's side, was nothing on Ralltiir, in comparison to her network. And one thing she knew about the imperials was that they liked their efficiency.

Morgana doubted that this would be enough to get them out. "Code XB-Blue-98236," she stated clearly. She didn't want to reveal that unless she had to, but her clearance code, provided directly by the ISB to cover her imperial research could be checked out. Her work for Imperial Center had been going on for three years and she had provided a lot of solid results to then be expanded upon by full-blown imperial scientists and technicians. She doubted this officer wanted to die shortly after tossing her out of an airlock.

Sure thing, she was terrified and she didn't care that it showed at least to a degree. She was going to fight for her life and talk herself out of it. She had no idea how Vilara was keeping her cool, although she knew her grandmother had been on the wrong end of a knife or a blaster too many times to count.

[Tear]

One minute and 23 seconds until decompression.

“Ah.” Thelin rubbed at the stubble of his cheek with the back of his fingers. The aged Inquisitor sighed, and reluctantly slowed on his heels. His back stiffened under the delectable scraps of truth being offered up in the face of certain death. He paused and gave the bridge of his nose a weary pinch, wondering if the two women would really be worth the six feet of corridor he would have to walk back.

These two women who had come to him as mere ‘Medical service and charity providers’, on a mission of good intetions, were quickly revealing themselves to be something else. Now they were two women who had the reigns of Ralltir’s criminal underworld.

One minute and 5 seconds until decompression.

Thelin’s booted toe tapped the polished black floor. It wasn’t enough. The Black Sun would take over were they had failed.

“Code XB-Blue-98236”

The Inquisitor winced. Was that an ISB code? Now that is interesting. Booted heels squeaked as the Inquisitor twisted around and walked back to the airlock door.

55 seconds until decompression.

The data pad disappeared from the viewport replaced by the very skeptical face of Thelin. “Look at all the interesting things coming out of you now. A criminal conspiracy? An Imperial clearance code?”

Thelin braced himself against the airlock door. “I appreciate truth. The side stepping of it makes conversation messy and inefficient.”

49 seconds until decompression.

“Perhaps, with the time remaining, you can try to be as efficient with your conversation as possible and tell me exactly who you really are what you’re hoping to accomplish by being here.” Thelin forced a short smile, the strain of it lasting only a second.

45 seconds until decompression.

[Morgana DeLaTour]

Morgana was terrified. Even though she had had dealings with the Ralltirr underworld since she was young because of her grandmother, she wasn't cut for it frankly. She was in her element as a genius mathematician, as an artist, as a fundraiser. She wasn't good at the whole bluffing and fighting for your life. If she couldn't charm her way out of it, or have time for her creative soul to blossom, she was tongue-tied. She had given her imperial credentials, and it wasn't amounting to anything. This man was insane, even though the imperials she had worked with didn't seem as such. What was wrong with him? A thousand of options and worst case scenarios were exploding in her bright mind within split seconds.

Not giving even a glimpse of attention to her granddaughter, Vivella read the situation loud and bloody clear. Years as a crime lord had made the Zeltron clear-headed even in the face of imminent death. It wasn't the first time and she wasn't going to let it be the last time. She stared at the imperial. She hadn't used her pheromones at any point during their stay on imperial turf. She knew better than that.

"The Black Sun is starting from scratch on Ralltirr. It's going to cost you time, resources, and energy. Working with me will save you from that waste." Whoever had thought that tossing the Black Sun to do some shady crap on her home world instead of trying to work with her had proven an idiot. She guessed that it had seemed like a silly deal for whatever imperial had worked on it. "I've run the network for thirty years." They could kill her but her network wouldn't cooperate any better with the Black Sun. And she knew that imperials like efficiency.

[Tear]

35 Seconds until Decompression

Thelin took a precious moment to consider what the older woman had said. While the Inquisitor himself had not been in on the planning for the export and subsequent spread of the drug, 'Bliss', he knew the priority was access, not profit. Thelin's job was relatively simple in that regard, he only managed the flow of inventory from Thule to the Shipyard and then into the Black Sun Cargo vessels that came in to transport it to the rest of the galaxy.

25 Seconds until Decompression.

This, issue of Ralltirr and its inner conflicts had nothing to do with his department, not really. Still, it was an anomaly that proved to be an entertaining distraction in his otherwise orderly schedule.

"Truth be told." Thelin started, his breath fogging up the airlock's tiny view port. "It's not our time or energy being wasted. It's the Black Suns. Also, Ralltir is just one planet. The Black Sun conducts business across the galaxy on our behalf."

20 Seconds until Decompression.

Thelin wiped at the misted transparisteel. He wanted to watch them die. "Would it make sense to jeopardize a galaxy wide venture for just one, little, relatively insignificant," The Inquisitor's head tipped. "No offense, back water planet?"

Up until this moment fear had been a monopoly held in the eyes of Morgana, but now, Thelin could see it beginning to creep into the older Vilara. She knew what the Inquisitor was saying was true. The Black Sun was a massive organization with galaxy wide networks. While Vilara's network, although established on Ralltirr, couldn't compete with a galactic criminal cartel.

"So." Thelin finally pushed away from the view port and stood upright. The salt in his otherwise jet black hair marking the only duality in his otherwise straight forward character. "You will understand if your offer comes off as irrelevant in the grand scheme of things."

12 Seconds until Decompression.

"Was there anything else you wanted to say, or offer?" The Inquisitors eyes flicked to the timer and then back to the two women. He couldn't hear it, but he knew at the 10 second mark the whirring of safety locks would begin to unwind and the hissing of air being blown between seals would start. This was fun, Thelin thought to himself, his face straight, a mask hiding his giddiness. Though, before long this underground drug business would be a thing of the past as they would market Bliss as a replacement for the galaxies shortening of Kolto and Bacta reserves.

Still, they say to enjoy the moment.

[Morgana DeLaTour]

They were running out of time. They both knew it. Morgana had given her imperial credentials. The man hadn't bothered looking into them. Vivella had made it clear that she would benefit the Empire on their home world. Black Sun wouldn't get them what they wanted, not without messing up a whole system that had worked well for decades, that appeased both the underworld and the imperial upper class that had the best of both worlds like that. Ralltirr inhabitants appreciated keeping their business under their control, besides being an imperial aligned world, as Vivella knew well for having worked with several officers, as well as Morgana having benefited from imperial scholarships.

Morgana was terrified but the moment Vivella reached for her hand, she grabbed at it tightly and stared at the man in front of them. "Not to you."

She wouldn't beg for her life. Neither would her grandmother.