Splendid Isolation

[Salem Ave]

SPLENDID ISOLATION

It is a time of uncertainty. ONDERON, a sovereign world of the Inner Rim, finds itself under siege by pirates.
Not possessing the naval power to repel these attacks herself, THE QUEEN ADRAUDIA has no other choice but to appeal
to other, stronger planets for assistance. On the advice of her aide SALEM AVE, she has dispatched a diplomatic
envoy to the mighty world of HAPES. The fate of Onderon lies jointly in the hands of ISHARA, the Hapan Queen,
and RAZIELLE, the Onderonian Princess charged with petitioning for her help...

***

The command deck of the 'Star of Dagri'...

“Sir, we are approaching Consortium space. Sensor arrays are piking up spikes from the Transitory Mists. We're getting some unusual readings.”

“Maintain course...”

“With all due resp-”

“Maintain course.”

Captain K'tar frowned, eyes fixed on the main view port. In the distance, the swirling mass of ionized space known as the Transitory Mists loomed ominously. Notoriously difficult to maneuver and unchartered for thousands of years, the Mists would have prooved a worthy challenge to the most seasoned of pilots. For the crew of the Star of Dagri, cobbled together from the bravest- or perhaps most suicidal- members of the Onderon Royal Guard, they were going to be a nightmare. Unarmed and with minimal defenses, the Star was walking a thin line.

Shaking off his nervousness, the Captain turned from the bridge and walked the short distance to the passenger quarters. The ship was small and cramped. Members of the Royal Guard loitered in the hallways, anxiously sharpening their blades, their nerves on edge. K'tar gave two sharp knocks on the door in front of him and it slid open with a hiss.

“Princess, Prime Minister,” he bowed his head, as a mark of respect.

“My apologies for the disturbance, however we are about to pass into Hapan space and I thought it best to warn you that we may experience some... turbulence upon entering the Transitory Mists.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Princess Razielle sat, turned around, apparently gazing out the viewport that was directly behind her seat. In truth, she wasn't watching the scenery at all. She was peering intently at the image looking back at her. So familiar, and yet.. a stranger. She saw herself - as she would have been, in a different life. It was no longer who she really was though.

The image before her was that of a pale young woman in typical Davoran court dress. Her gown was royal blue, silk brocade which pooled around her on the padded seat. Sheer black lace covered the square necked bodice, adding a classical look. A high standing collar of black lace curved around the back of her head, framing her face. Her own dark hair had been caught up in a mass of ringlets, save one long curl that draped over her left shoulder. On her opposite shoulder was a yellow ribbon, not only for decoration, but it symbolized her affiliation to the Basillie royal family. She had chosen a beaten silver circlet, at the center of which sat a large black diamond. Her eyes had been lined in black, giving them an exotic slant.

She looked determined. She was. Razielle was determined to bring aid to the Queen and the people of Onderon. She would convince the Hapan Queen of their plight and noble intentions. Although she might portray spoiled royalty, Razielle was always at her best when she was useful. She was doubly as efficient when the Prime Minister had specifically recommended her for the honor.

Her violet eyes slid from her own foreign reflection, to the familiar countenance of Salem Ave. They had been silent for a while. Although it was a mutually comfortable silence, each going over things in their head. She had just opened her mouth to speak when their was a knock and the door slid open to admit the Captain of the Star of Dagri.

"Thank you, Captain K'tar. I have every confidence that we will arrive in safety." She inclined her head, purveying a sense of serenity.

[Salem Ave]

“You have my word, ma'am,” K'tar bowed his head once more before standing briskly to attention, bringing his fist to his chest in the salute of the Royal Guard. The Star of Dagri edged its hull into the Transitory Mists, taking its first cautious step into the unknown.

“You are in the most capable han-”

“Captain K'tar, please report to the command bridge immediately!” The strained voice of another crew member interrupted the Captain's bold proclamation, toppling him from his moment of pride. At a nod from the Prime Minister, he stalked back into the hall and soon found himself running through the ships corridors. All through his career K'tar had been gifted with an acutely accurate danger sense and at that very moment it was on red alert.

Arriving on the bridge, he found the many of the guards who had been idling about through the rest of the ship had gathered. All eyes were on the central view port, through which six Manta-class assault starfighters could be seen advancing right towards The Star.

“They've locked onto us, sir! They're assuming battle formation!”

“Initiate evasive maneuvers!”

The starfighters broke apart into two groups, surrounding the Onderonian vessel. Energy bolts rocketed from the 'fighters laser cannons, colliding on all sides with The Star. The ship shook, groaning with the impact as the 'fighters rolled by for another attack. The gun turrets on board The Star swung clumsily after the interlopers, to no avail – their shots wide of hitting their mark each and every time. Panic spread across the bridges. Some guards, already doubtful of the assured success of the mission to Hapes, barked futile protests at one another.

“I knew I never should have volunteered for this mission!”

“You'll be hung for this insurrection, Corporal.”

“I've got a wife and three kids back in Iziz, what are they-!”

“Captain, another ship is approaching!”

Through the view port, K'tar watched with widened eyes as the starfighters were eclipsed by a far larger vessel. It had a long neck-like body, with V-shaped wings at the rear. It was hundreds of times larger than the Manta-class 'fighters, and dwarfed The Star with ease.

“Captain, they're charging turbolasers!”

Cold terror flooded through K'tars veins, freezing him to the spot. He could only look on in catatonic fear as the capital ship turned its guns and... BOOM!

The leading starfighter exploded. The turbolaser fired again, vaporizing another. One by one, they vanished into clouds of fine debris under the superior firepower of the cannon. K'tar, who had squeezed his eyes shut in anticipating of his impending death, opened them cautiously once more, surprised to find that he was not dead. He looked around, to see that the others appeared to be alive too, only they were bowing their heads.

“Captain?”

He flinched, turning sharply to see that the Prime Minister and Princess had appeared on deck. Though Salem had addressed the Captain, his eyes were fixed on the huge ship that had now turned itself to face The Star. K'tar, in shock, tried desperately to think of something to say – but was fortunately relieved of the duty as another of the guards interjected.

“They're hailing us, sir. What are your orders?”

“... Open a channel.”

[Aaron Belargic]

Onboard the Nova-class battle cruiser, things were much more calm and collected. With the communications channel secured and opened, the ships commanding officer stepped forwards to speak. “Vessel - identify yourself.”

[Jecht Tar]

Down in the ship's barracks converted servant's quarters sat a dozen Royal Guards, all clustered around their Captain, Jecht Tar. They all admired the dark skinned man, with his cool expression and calm demeanor. They were all dressed specially for this occasion. Their worn leather and rusty metal armor was left behind and replaced with new leather jerkins and shiny metal breastplates. They had all showered and cleaned, something they did not necessarily do often, and now they looked very presentable. Each man's hair was either cut short or tied back, leaving their faces unobstructed. Their swords glistened in ceremonial sheaths at their sides, highly decorated murals depicting stages of Onderon history. Each wore a thin sash around his waist composed of the Onderon royal colors. All except for Jecht, who wore his traditional blood red sash. Jecht himself was dressed in thick boots, black leather pants, a thick, sturdy belt, his sash, a black, sleeveless tunic, and his belt and scarred breastplate. While the rest of his men were required to dress appropriate for the occasion, he had disobeyed the order to wear the shiny breastplate issued him for ceremonial purposes. He couldn't stand wearing anything shiny and reflective, that would give him away in the shadows. He wore his battered old breastplate because each dent and scar was a symbol of his office as the Queen's protector. It was symbolic, very symbolic. He would show this Hapans what a real soldier looked like. A real soldier did not wear shiny britches and parade around with a plume in his hat. A real soldier wore armor damaged by a hundred battles.

"Look at 'ol Twin Blades..." "He's so calm..." "Nothing ever upsets him..." "I wish I was that together..." Came the various voices of his soldiers around him as they marveled at his ability to remain calm, even in this situation. But that was far from the truth. Although he would never go as far to be frightened, he was nervous. He hated to have his feet off the ground. On a ship he could do nothing but watch as starships atomized each other. He only prayed that, in the case they were attacked, that the attacker would risk boarding the ship, because they would find Jecht waiting on the other side.

His dark eyes looked around at the men. He had left his best guardsmen back on Onderon to protect the Queen, but these men were the second best. They were the ones who bled and died on the streets of Iziz while the elite guardsmen stood as statues throughout the palace. They were the real heroes, and now he was going to give them the opportunity to be heroes in the public eye. Each had volunteered, each had been accepted. In addition to this dozen there were soldiers as well on the ship, to remain on the starship and await orders. They were a precaution, just in case the ship was borded or attacked when they land. If they land. Jecht was confident in their security forces. More confident then he was in Captain K'tar. The bumbling captain was sure to get them killed.

Jecht stretched back on his stool, just for a quick back stretch. He had not expected to be suddenly thrown to the floor as the entire starship shook violently. Gear and weapons fell from their perches and flew across the floor. "Pick up your things!" He ordered and made his way to the door set in the bulkhead. Which took some time because the floor kept swaying just as he reached the door. Finally he made it into the corridor outside and headed for the bridge at a brisk run, the pumping of his muscles causing the twin swords on his back to clink together while his hair danced around his face.

He reached the bridge just in time to watch the massive starship centered on the viewscreen destroy a series of smaller vessels that could only be starships at that size. His dark eyes scanned the door. K'tar was there along with his command staff, and the Princess and Minister were also there. So then everyone was aware. His eyes moved back to the viewscreen, watching the mighty ship sitting there like a mighty rancor that could destroy them at any moment. He could only stare in helplessness while his hands opened and closed at his sides.

[Razielle Alastor]

Captain K'tar's white knuckled fingers finally loosened, by measures. Although his posture was still that of high tension, he reacted to the demand with the authority of a man who was accustomed to taking command of a situation. He answered immediately, clear and to the point. The transmission was sent on screen, on an open channel. Captain K'tar lowered his head and placed a hand to his chest bowing his head slightly in thanks.

"This is Star of Dagri, we are transporting an envoy to...." He stopped abruptly mid-sentence. Princess Razielle had walked silently up behind him and halted his speech with a gentle touch to his shoulder. He bowed his head to her in deference, immediately stepping aside, letting her take charge of the situation on his own bridge.

She stepped forward into full view and lowered her eyes, folding her hands before her. "I thank you for your aide. I am Razielle Shadana, Sovereign Princess of the Davora Monarchy, Ward of The Queen Adraudia of Onderon, loyal member of the Basillie House. I humbly apologize for our unannounced intrusion into your territories. We have come to beseech an audience with your venerable Queen Mother."

Slowly Razielle lifted her eyes and raised her chin a notch, proud but not without humility, awaiting a favorable reply.

[Aaron Belargic]

Aide? The commodore smirked. The battle cruiser had been on its routine patrol of the Mists, searching for rogue pirates. The fact that those pirates had happened to be attacking another ship when the Nova had arrived was merely a coincidence. The Dagri was not yet safe.

“What business do you have with Chume Ishara?”

[Razielle Alastor]

Razielle paused only a moment, as if reflecting on how much information should be passed on. She even tilted her chin slightly as if weighing the matter carefully. In truth, she had already been over, several times, exactly what she would say. However, she lacked the knowledge of who it was she had the pleasure of addressing at this point. She kept the facts very simple.

"I come at the behest of my Lady, Queen Adraudia. Onderon wishes to establish peaceful commerce and trade with the Hapes Consortium. In addition to this, my Lady also seeks Chume Ishara's wisdom and council on a personal matter."

[Aaron Belargic]

On the command deck of the Hapan cruiser, Commodore Belargic paused for thought. It was no surprise to hear that the ship was seeking a treaty or pact of sorts with the Consortium. Free from the interference of the Galactic Empire, the cluster had prospered and flourished unlike any other. It was a place of great beauty and the source of many myths, as people speculated just how fantastic life might be beyond the Transitory Mists.

The standard procedure in situations such as these was to turn away any trespassers, with a warning that if they should return they would face the same penalty as the Mist pirates. Belargic was about to deliver his usual speech confirming this when one of his ensigns spoke up.

“Sir, Star Home is attempting to contact us.”

Belargic stood to attention instinctively. Star Home was the flagship of the Hapan Navy, an exact replica of the Fountain Palace which the Queen Mother made her home in. The Nova's which patrolled the Mists were required to make regular check-ins with Star Home, to confirm the safety of the Consortium's borders. The Commodore could only assume that this was the case now.

“Open channel. Quickly. Put the other ship on hold.” The line to the Dagri went silent, whilst on board the Nova-cruiser the holographic projection unit whirred, casting a life-size image of a woman in regal attire onto the bridge.

"Commodore Belargic..."

The Commodore saluted the image of her Royal Highness Chume Ishara, as the rest of the crew stood to attention, their heads bowed in respect. “Ereneda,” he said – she who has no equal.

"Good afternoon, Commodore. I trust your daily patrols are passing without trouble."

“Yes, Chuma Ishara. Another patrol of Manta-class fighters has been destroyed.”

"Marvellous. Your commitment to the eradiction of those swine shall not go unnoticed.”

“There is another thing, Chuma Ishara, something which I am sure will not interest you.”

“Do not presume to know what interests me, Commodore.”

Belargic felt his jaw tightening. “Of course, Chuma Ishara. My most humble apologies, ereneda. Only... we've been contacted by a dignitary of the Onderonian Queen. They were being ambushed by the Manta's when we arrived. It seems they want to establish trade-lines with the Consortium and, according to the envoy, seek your council on a personal matter.”

“The Queen of Onderon... how quaint.”

“Should I turn them away, Chume?”

“Turn them away, Commodore? Whatever for. We are not so cold-hearted as to deny those in need.” The Queen smiled, the icy smile of a predator.

“No... bring them to me.”

With that, the image vanished. There was a collective exhalation from the crew, who although enamored with the Queen were almost somewhat fearful of her. The Commodore felt their eyes on him, as if expecting some reaction. He would give none. It was his duty – his life – to serve the Queen. He knew nothing else, and hoped that he never would.

“You heard Chuma Ishara. Lock onto the Dagri. Bring the ship aboard.”

[Salem Ave]

The atmosphere aboard The Star of Dagri was tense. Without warning or explanation, the communications channel with the Hapan battle-cruiser had been severed. The eyes of the command crew were pinned to their stations, as they watched for any signs that the ship was going to attack. In the anxious silence, Salem Ave remained a beacon of calm. Tentatively, he felt outwards with the Force, trying to gage the situation. Across the expanse of space, he felt the minds of the Hapan crew, a hive of thoughts, buzzing with activity - yet amidst it all he felt no threat.

“Your highness, what should we do?” asked one of the guards, his face growing pale. Salem held up a hand.

The guard was about to speak again when the ship, suddenly, rocked ever so slightly.

“What the-!”

“Captain, we're being pulled in. They're taking us on board!”

[Jecht Tar]

“Captain, we're being pulled in. They're taking us on board!”

The pit in his stomach grew. God, he hated being stuck in space. He hated having only a few meters of hull platting between him and a cold death in the vacuum of space. He hated having to rely on electronics and energy wossnames to sustain life, his life, everyone's life. Dirt under his feet, that is what he dreamed of in that moment. He did not let it show, though. He remained the impassive, mysterious guardsman he had always been. His stone carved face turned to the Princess and the Prime Minister.

"Sir, may I be as bold to suggest placing armed men on all boarding points?" He asked, his voice had an edge to it that could inticate either anger or fear, or perhaps.

[Salem Ave]

The Dagri moved slowly towards the Hapan cruiser. Already the crew had begun to prepare themselves, anticipating a less than friendly welcome. “I don't believe that they plan to harm us, Captain. If that were the case, they would have simply blown the ship up. Might I advise, Princess, that we do not present a hostile front? We have, after all, requested an audience with the Hapan Queen... it may be the intention of this ships' captain to take us to her.”

[Razielle Alastor]

"Of course, Prime Minister.." Razielle's head bobbed, in agreement with the proposal. Despite the fact that they had been nearly beset by pirates, had sat idle in a mass of laser fire, had risked complete destruction by what appeared to be a flagship of the Hapan Navy, and as a result were now being pulled, without consent, into the belly of a beast that could destroy them all - she seemed very tranquil. Without further delay the pair, accompanied by Captain Tar and his personally selected men, departed the bridge for the most likely boarding point.

She seemed determined to remain optimistic, despite the very dire circumstance that they were in. "We are here to establish peaceful terms with the Hapans. We are, for the time, at their mercy. If they wish us disarmed for their safety, there will be no opposition. We have come uninvited into their borders, knowing that they have a reputation for being hostile to interlopers. Obviously if concessions are to be made, it will be by us.."

As they came to a standstill to await the Hapan's, Razielle finished what she had to say. "Captain Tar, I fully expect our men to act in accordance with this. I leave it to you to see that it is so."

To bolster her stoic appearance, she slid her gaze to the man at her side. Thinking to herself.. Well.. Here we go..

[Aaron Belargic]

The atmosphere aboard the Hapan Cruiser Arbitrator could not have been more different to the cautious unease on the Dagri. With a crew of nigh-on seventeen-hundred, they outnumbered their unexpected guests with ease. Though it was unorthodox for the Queen to ask for an intruding ship to be detained, it was not a taxing request. The crew of the Arbitrator remained at their posts, whilst Commodore Belargic and group of armed soldiers departed for the hanger bay.

As they arrived into the large hold, already occupied by a number of smaller Hapan fight vessels, the Dagri passed through the containment field that separated the docking bay from the vastness of space beyond. The firm hand of the ships tractor beam set the ship down in the center of the bay. Within seconds, an array of guns – mounted at various locations throughout the hanger – were trained on the various vital components of the Dagri. The Commodore stopped. The soldiers formed two lines, either side of him, and one behind. They presented a formidable front. Each wore a deep blue uniform, bearing the icon of the Consortium on their breast. They each shouldered a rifle, awaiting further orders.

“Set your weapons to stun, men.”

[Jecht Tar]

"Yes, your majesty," He said, ending with a short, strict bow before turning away, raising his comm unit to his mouth to shout his orders. He was not pleased with his own orders. His instincts told him to set up guards, make barricades, and bunker down for a siege. Sadly he would have to abide by the Princess' rules this time. He was a man of war, not diplomacy.

He called up his royal guards and they positioned themselves around the Queen. Then they waited. A solid circle of guardsmen surrounded the Princess, standing tightly together, hands on their sword hilts, but not a single one of them brandished a naked weapon. Jecht stood to the left of the Princess, the right was occupied by the Prime Minister. His hands twitched at his sides, aching to rise and slide his twin swords from their sheaths.

If only the bloody happens would do something already!

"Open the door and airlock," He commanded, when nothing happened. It would seem that they were the ones to open the door. One of the guardsmen detached himself from the Queen's back and moved over to the control panel. He operated the proper buttons and entered the necessary codes, and then the doors opened, the internal lights of the Hapan ship flooding through the slowly opening doorway, which opened to reveal... several ranks of armed men.

Jecht's hand tightened into fists.

[Salem Ave]

Such was their first glimpse of the might of the Hapan Consortium. Before them stood a company of men, dressed in royal blue regalia. Their uniforms shimmered, starched and immaculate. Each was clean shaven, with well-rounded features and impeccable posture. They bore none of the scars – blemishes, even – that the Onderonian Royal Guard carried with such pride, yet there was something in the way they stood, calm yet confident, that suggested their combat prowess was not to be underestimated.

At the center of the group, one man stood apart from the almost identical faces around him. Not quite so pristine, his eyes had a tired look about them and his chin was peppered with stubble. In spite of all this, one thing was undoubtedly certain, this was the superior officer – the Commodore himself, perhaps. Though he felt Captain Tar and the others bristling around him, Salem said nothing. The eyes of the Commodore were fixed firmly upon the Princess, whose own regal trappings made her a jewel amidst the rough wreath of her escort. Just as the Commodore's unique appearance separated him from his men, so Razielle's elevated her above those around her.

[Aaron Belargic]

The men stiffened. As the passengers of the Dagri came into view, their eyes caught sight of curved, still-bloodied blades on their hips. They looked savage, like wild-men. That is, with the exception of two figures. One, a male, was perhaps an officer of some kind. The other, a female, was the woman who had spoken on behalf of the ship earlier. She was beautiful, or at least as beautiful as humans could be. It was a trait that the Commodore had come to associate with royalty, the monarchy of Hapes being exalted as the most beautiful of all beings in the Galaxy.

“Razielle Shadana?” the Commodore asked. “You have been brought aboard the Arbitrator at the request of Chuma Ishara. You are to be taken to the royal flagship Star Home where you will be granted an audience with the Queen Mother at her convenience. While in Consortium space you must abide by Consortium rules. Any act contrary to our creed will result in your immeadiate expulsion from our territories, at best. Do you understand?”

[Razielle Alastor]

At her name, Razielle stepped forward, out from the protective circle of her escort. It was a show of trust on her part. "We understand you completely. Honor would not let us act otherwise."

Foreign to her normal cheerful, almost spritely manner, Razielle remained rigid as a porcelain statue. The situation called for her summoning up years of tutelage and training, but she was very well prepared. The We, she had spoken wasn't her version of referring to herself as royalty. Those around her would understand she was reminding them of her last words. They were all at great risk if any one of them decided to have a lapse of decorum, and doing so would misrepresent their beloved own Majesty, Adraudia. In a very bad way. She did not believe any of them would falter. Unless they were provoked..

She continued with a slight softening of her stance, nothing more. "I am greatly relieved to have arrived safely this far, it is far more than I could have hoped for. Fortune favored us today, by your arrival. Whether intended or not, you saved our lives and I remain in your debt." At that she gave a polite nod.

Her cheek dimpled as if she would have liked very much to smile, but did not dare. "Might I be so bold as to inquire the identity of our rescuer?"

[Aaron Belargic]

“I am Aaron Belargic, Commodore of the Consortium Navy, loyal servant and hand of her excellency Chume Ishara.” The tone and nuance of the Commodore's words suggested that it was not he, or his ship, or the many men on board, that had saved the Dagri – but rather the Hapan Queen herself. “The Arbitrator is a warship and as such our dwellings are far from luxurious, though I am sure that you will find them quite satisfactory. Your soldiers may stay in the barracks, where they will find refreshments and bunks to rest in. My men will lead the way.”

Although the Commodore was restrained, the Queen's requests in mind, it was clear that he did not think of the Onderonian party as being an escort to royalty. The petty monarchies of the outside Galaxy were nothing in comparison to the epoch-spanning Hapan dynasty. There was no effort made to separate the Princess from her party, no special considerations made for her position as an ambassador.

[Jecht Tar]

Jecht did not like this Commodore. He was far too posh and regal to be a soldier. A real soldier was sweaty from training, dirty from excercising, and bloody from fighting. This man looked more a politicial or a figure head then an actual soldier. It would seem that in the Hapan military that the soldiers got softer the higher you went. Hmph. Jecht was adamant that his men, even if young, could give these pansy Hapans a run for their money in armed combat.

He also did not like the idea of being confined to a barracks. How easy it would be to kill him and his soldiers in such a contained space. Traps could be laid before hand, poison laced into the air scrubbers, and hidden blaster turrets installed. It was not at all to his liking. His place was with his Queen, but it was also with his Soldiers. What use is a royal gaurd if there is nothing for him to guard?

Yet, he would abide by this, because he was suppose to be more tactful and diplomatic. The Queen herself had spoken to him about this. Jecht knew was brash and paranoid when it came to situations like this when his internal warning lights were firing. Yet, it was these warning senses that kept him alive.

He hated this entire situation...