FEED THE MACHINE

It all began in silence. First one system, which no one deemed worthy of concern, political upheaval and terse alliances with the Vatali Empire and the Jedi were bound to cause friction with one, perhaps two, of Kiast’s neighbors through Nilgaard. Then communications and traffic from other systems came to a crawl. This garnered worry throughout the pillars of Kiast. Strategists and various saber rattlers from the Royal Houses began routine arguments, a day no longer passed where there wasn’t at least one argument about the state of their sector and the silence of their neighbors. The Temple, still recovering from the corruption, and subsequent recovery, of Revak, began to swirl with rumors as the Masters convened multiple closed-door Councils. The sight of any number of red-faced Jedi storming from the meetings, occasionally including High Councilor Sol, became all too common as the worries spread. The pervasive concern spread even throughout the joint chiefs of the O.U.S.C., the common rank-and-file were just as concerned about a potential deployment into a system spanning conflict so soon after the Second Fleet had been involved in a planetary conflict to aid the people of Selen.

Silence, rather, the unease it caused, was the biggest threat to an already fragile peace. It filled the gaps in tenuous relationships and alliances like gasoline, caustic, swirling, primed to detonate on the faintest whim.

Royal affairs were never a small matter, whether the mundane or the massive, the only time they were ever notable was when everything seemed to be peaceful, perhaps a touch too peaceful. Today was, as any other, a day of no import for the Vatali Empress, Kaltani Anasaye, as she strode through the halls of Voraskel Palace. It began as normal, with one of her personal attendants at her left hand, and a Jedi Guardian at her right, and it would continue with another war council. A wasted morning of useless arguments, with the most boisterous entourage from Houses Ghalor and Etlina shouting their war strategies and useless arguments about how to deal with their latest assumed threats, while the representatives from Sunrider and Keldra discussed matters of no particular import and questioned the border silence.

Was the threat one which only loomed as far as their imaginations carried them, or were there dangers she was as of not yet aware?

The Sephi woman stopped in place, yet the gold chains adorning her robe carried forward on their own momentum before they swung back. Her retainer stopped and turned to her, concern written upon her face, while the Jedi took a few steps more and checked the hallway crossing.

“Master Haku, how would you face the matter at hand?” The Empress demanded of the Jedi, shrewd eyes focused on the silver-haired man as he shifted on his heels to face her.

“Your Highness, I wouldn’t presume to…”

“I’ve listened to the same six voices, for the last ten days, as they’ve argued theoretical outcomes, the potential for invasion, just why we’re likely considered a threat outside of the system, especially after the recent invasion by do we even know who they were, which sent your temple into lockdown… So, I’ll you ask, before I request your reassignment. What would you do, facing the matter at hand?” Kaltani’s voice cut sharp and took Masahiro by surprise.

The Jedi had heard the Empress take terse tones and argumentative stances with any number of delegates and the nobility before, but, this was the first time he had been on the receiving end of anything more than her biting wit. A childish smirk crept across his face and he brought a gloved hand to his forehead, tapping himself on the temple twice.

“I’d do what no one else is doing first, and probably what any serious War Council with thoughts of actively engaging with the problem would tell you. Send a diplomatic mission. Just as I am here to you, send an emissary to those you are worried about, believe need protecting, or who may be valuable to you, for any cause.” The Guardian spoke candidly, as he returned to the Empress’ side.

“It does you no good to be anxious of an adversary that may not exist, nor to go blindly into the dark. To attack foreign dignitaries is a war crime, or an invitation to war, under the laws of the Galactic Republic, the Galactic Empire, the Vatali Empire, and many other host worlds. So sending a host under the flag of diplomacy is, in fact, the purest and wisest first move.” He continued, eyes leveled with Empress Anasaye.


“Then I’ll deliver that as an option to the Council, Master Jedi, I appreciate you being candid with me, for once. Too often you’ve obfuscated your ultimate goal, I see it takes the advent of war to get you to speak plainly.” A cold remark, but, one not too far removed from the truth.

“Your Highness, I am but your obedient servant, in service to The Balance.”

Silence fell over the Praxeum during what should otherwise be the busiest time of the day, traffic in and out of the deeper parts of the Temple had been restricted and the Masters were sequestered in the fourth Council over the last week. Their gathering brought no peace nor were there steady emotions as confusion had seemed to be the course of discourse. An agitated High Councilor loomed over the others, his face cupped in the palm of his natural hand.

“It doesn’t matter if they didn’t come to our aid, we serve the Light. We go into the darkness and bring the Light to places where it is absent. If there is something that is threatening our neighbors here in the Nilgaard Sector we are duty-bound to help them!” The Kiffar argued, shaking his head as he couldn’t believe the audacity behind which some continued to try and hide.

“It could be a Brotherhood trap, now that we’ve grown complacent and overplayed our hand in assisting the Arconans! This tenuous peace, brokered by Archenksova and her twisting words, means nothing as long as we aren’t armed to the teeth.” One of the Mon Calamari Masters shouted, only to be rebutted by a calm Pantorran.

“Please, if you believed the Iron Throne was really going to move on us, do you think they would have let several of ours onto the Council? Trusted Councilors of Urr themselves who would warn us of impending doom? Alethia may be every bit as conniving as you assume her to be…” The Pantorran continued, before being rudely interrupted, when the Mon Calamari stood and shouted.

“And what of her past, her connection to the Empire that forced us to run in the first place?”

“The same connection that saved us, time and time again? That brokered the cease-fire between us and Iron Throne, so long as The Collective is still a threat? Have you forgotten just how much some have given for the semblance of peace? Just because you’re shaken by the smallest of threats? Calm your mind, we must forge ahead carefully, not fearfully.” A lone Kel Dor responded as she leaned forward onto her knees, hands gesturing as she spoke.

The Pantorran sighed and resumed his original assertion.

“Alethia may be every bit as conniving as you assume her to be, but she is no traitor nor stranger to our plight. She fought alongside our order, manipulated the Council, Vatali, and SeNet to her whim, pinning the Dominion and Collective together as joint foes, securing us a home we did not have before. Her skills have long been our weapon, Councilor.”

Several of the Councilors turned to face the young Pantorran as he spoke, one breaking the silence.

“The Dominion, how long has it been now? Since we intervened in the Vatali/Dominion conflict?” Gui Sol asked as his head rose, his glare danced between the different Councilors amassed.

“Five years, High Councilor.” The Mon Calamari responded, their head lowered.

A loud knock came at the chamber door and a pale figure emerged through, an Echani woman out of breath from the sprint across the courtyard.

“A transmission from the Quermian people seeking our assistance… They’re sending a delegate ship to Palioxis Station.”

“Sit, please, you’re wheezing.” The High Councilor chided as he examined the Padawan and motioned another Councilor to take care of them. “This adjourns our meeting for now. We’ll need to convene with the Empress and joint chiefs, then.”

A wave of his mechanical hand summoned a small droid.

“Contact the Councilor of War and inform him of the incoming delegation, Empress Anasaye as well. Let Wulfram know that I want him to give the Delegation an armed escort to the Palace, for their own safety, people are getting… excited.”

There had been years where Wulfram would have enjoyed a silent breakfast, where he had wished his children would have calmed down, settled, and let him enjoy his caf in peace after he had cooked them each their traditional breakfasts. Today was not one of those days, today he existed in his capacity as a Soldier and Councilor, despite having sat to a traditional meal with Venn and other members of the Okami clan, one he hadn’t had since he was in his twenties and still remembered how to cook some of the meals his father used to cook for the family, it was bittersweet, being one of the only Armis Clansmen on this outing. His thoughts lingered back to his children for a few moments before he dove back into his bowl of Tiingilar and gave a wry smirk as the heat crept up on him. As he tucked into the food a boot pressed on his thigh and shoved him over on the bench seat, shoving Venn and one of his Okami clansmen over as well. The Knight Commander of Allusis had come to join them, slamming her own bowl, twice the size of any of theirs, down on the table.

“You know I have to order specially for them to make this for me, right Warmaster?” The half-giant questioned as she poked her spoon at Wulfram, who chuckled at her before he pulled out a bottle of antacids from his utility pouch.

“You might need these, Lady Suoh.” He jested, earning a bit of laughter from the other Mandalorians at the table, and raised eyebrows from those who had seen Yuki for her horrors.

“Then again, hearin’ you complain about the heat might help break the karkin’ silence, what’s grown around the entirety of the system. If these foreign delegates don’t do something to alleviate all of this, I think I’ll go nearly as insane as when Sofila started collecting plush dolls.” The Councilor of War sighed as he turned in his seat to look toward the ‘Arrivals’ dock.

The Traffic Controller had been given strict orders to drive the Quermians to a specified dock, and the Councilor, a Mandalorian Fighter Squadron, the Knights of Allusis, as well as Flagship of the Second Fleet, had come to greet them.

To be Continued-