Author sensei - to defeat your enemy. You must a cum in your enemy. No not come, cum. You must give your enemy diabolical seismic making backshoots young padawan.
Currently sick yipee
Patreon - Deluxee
**Kael POV**
The first enquiry arrived before the caff had finished brewing.
I was in the town hall's lower records room with Harlan, reviewing detainee lists and which palace staff still had uncleared access histories since the palace is still being cleaned and repaired, when an unidentified person is trying to connect to me.
Looking at the clearance codes and the identificatory it has the markings of the ISB. I straighten a bit and answer the call.
The officer on the other end did not waste time with sympathy. She had a thin face, a cold emotionless voice, and the manner of someone sent to measure a fire by walking into it and actually succeeding .
"Governor Voss," she said. "By urgent authority of Imperial Security Bureau central desk, I am required to verify the operational and political claims arising from the recent conflict within your system and wider sector. That includes access to captured officers, surviving documentation, and your own after-action account and recordings."
I incline my head, she didn't even introduce herself so much for manners but I am not about to call her out on that.
"You'll get them," I said, still scanning a list of facilities clerks. "Some of the prisoners are still under medical hold while some of the files are still being recovered from damaged systems."
"That is acceptable only if delay is not used as obstruction."
"I assure it is not."
She asked for Orlan by name before she asked for casualty totals. That told me enough about the order of their concerns, when the channel closed, Harlan looked at me over the datapads.
"They'll want the narrative under their stamp so as to spin whatever they want for the whole of the empire." he said.
"Hopefully they portray us as hero's and victims.
I left him to the lists and went to inspect a temporary holding block near the civic depot. The walk itself was useful. Havenridge in daylight looked less ruined than it had in the first reports, which only meant the damage had settled into ordinary ugliness: scorched facades, sealed market lanes, militia directing traffic around a collapsed transit canopy. People watched my escort pass with faces of civilians who had survived one disaster and were waiting to learn if next one is coming immediately after.
The second enquiry found me there, two hours later, while a local captain briefed me on prisoner separation.
Central government this time, probably my first ever contact with them, which is quite concerning because it usually means someone in Palpatine close orbit took note of it and is now asking questions.
The official on the holo wore a pale administrative uniform and spoke as if reading from a board that had already decided my fate.
"The Office of Sector Administration requires formal confirmation that hostilities have ceased, that captured Imperial assets are being preserved for lawful disposition and re-assessment, and that no further independent military action will be undertaken under local authority unless in self defence, any deviations will be met with the full might of the Empire."
"Hostilities in this system have ceased sir." I said. "Enemy captured assets are secured and prisoners are treated fairly and under medical care for those who need it, there is no point in wasting further loyal imperial lives. However, if someone else starts I will remain inactive and watch them burn through my cities for the sake of politeness."
A pause, tight and unhappy. "Governor, stability matters. The losses already sustained are significant. Further escalation would be viewed poorly."
"Please take into mind that I was on the defensive and did not cause any instability, should another party escalate it would reflect poorly on them, my people are loyal subject of the empire. They are not expendable."
He did not like that answer overly much, which was fair. I did not like his demands either to be fair. We exchanged just enough formal agreement to keep the channel from turning into an open reprimand: reports to be filed, inventories to be shared, no new offensive campaigns without notice unless under direct attack. When the image died, the local captain waited a respectful three seconds before continuing.
By early afternoon I was back near the port authority offices, walking a damaged docking spur with Reza's deputy and a salvage coordinator. We were arguing, in practical terms, over which recovered hulls deserved yard priority and which deserved a quiet recommendation for dismantling. The air smelled of coolant and burned insulation while farther down the spur, dock workers cut into a ruined corvette like butchers.
That was when Drell called, about fucking time you lazy shit.
He looked worse than the last time I had seen him on a sector channel.
Oh is someone facing the heat? He is probably doing damage control trying to show that he didn't wait too long to chose a side and now needed everyone to believe he had always been in motion.
"Governor Voss," he said. "We need coordination, immediate. Along with joint statements and shared custody over the remaining ships and prisoners especially regarding Captain Orlan Jerjerrod. And a temporary freeze on unilateral claims to captured heavy vessels until sector command can present a unified accounting."
Ah you want to take everything off my hands to spin your own tale, possibly kill Orlan as well as an 'example'
I stood on the open spur with wind cutting across the platform and laughed once without humour. "You want to help and play the dutiful commander now that the shooting is over."
"I want the sector to look governed," Drell said. His voice stayed level, but his eyes did not. "If this remains a contest between a rising governor and a collapsing Moff, outside authorities will impose their own solution. That solution may satisfy none of us."
"Then say what you are actually afraid of."
He did, after a breath. "I am afraid of being recorded as the man who watched a Moff spend a fleet on a private feud and only found his voice after the wreckage was tallied. Joint process gives everyone a bridge."
"It gives you a bridge," I said. "It gives me a committee and makes me look trigger happy."
We negotiated anyway, because pure refusal would have made me look intoxicated by victory. I agreed to consult on public statements but I refused to transfer Orlan off Elyrian control along with the prisoners or ships, giving the excuse that the ISB is already on its way which quickly shut him up.
I allowed that prize-ship disposition would be discussed with Navy and sector offices once inventories were complete by ISB and independent officers. Drell accepted although with reluctance.
When his channel finally closed, the salvage coordinator raised an eyebrow.
"Three different offices in one day," he said.
"Four, if you count every clerk who suddenly remembers how to write," I answered.
****
By late afternoon the prize board occupied an entire wall of the temporary naval office near the port.
I stood in front of it with Reza on secure link, Harlan at my left, Lira putting damaged ships through a cracked datapad, and two salvage officers who had stopped trying to make the numbers look optimistic. The room smelled of coolant residue and old ink. Outside, cutters were still peeling panels off dead hulls in the outer docks.
"Prisoners first," I said.
Harlan brought up the separation lists. Imperial navy crew in one set of blocks. Army personnel in another. Contractors and irregulars in a third.
"Useful specialists stay under guard and get worked on repairs, prioritised our own ships" I said. "Engineers, reactor techs, damage-control ratings, medical staff. Ordinary line crew remain detained until screening is complete. Anyone tied to political enforcement units or house-loyalty cadres stays isolated and watched closely."
Reza's image nodded. "I'll take the naval specialists under military custody. Army vehicle crews and armour techs should go to Karlchlan's and Varns people for evaluation.
"Do it."
We moved to material.
Recovered ground equipment from Durak's Hold was a graveyard with occasional gifts. Most AT-ATs were too broken to restore in any honest timeframe, but two could be made to walk again if we stripped three others for parts, thought I doubt we will get to keep them so we will prioritise other smaller vehicles like the several AT-STs who were in better shape. Saber tanks had suffered hard in the industrial lanes; four were recoverable, the rest better treated as turrets and engine cores. Small arms and army kit were plentiful. Ammunition stocks were uneven and medical stores from Imperial transports were already being absorbed into Havenridge and Hold clinics because there was no moral luxury in leaving them crated while people bled.
Then the ships.
That board was where fantasy went to die.
"Openly keepable," Lira said, marking a short column. "The flagship Unyielding Writ is damaged but structurally worth the politics and the yard time. The Victory-class Bastion Price can be restored without praying for a miracle. Two Arquitens are in good enough condition while three Raider-pattern corvettes need only slight work, two captured transports are already earning their dock space by moving supplies and prisoners still.."
"And the rest?" I asked.
One of the salvage officers just sighed. "Scrap, stripped hulks, or repair burdens large enough to cripple the yards as big as Kuat for months, for us even repairing one of the more heavily damaged Victory class would take up to a year and the ISD1 does not even fit in the docks even if we break apart five docking arms.
Reza's mouth tightened. "Even the keepable ships need crews we trust. Droid support closes part of the gap but we do not have any dedicated naval capable droids."
"Which is why I am not even that angry or disappointed about all of it."
I scratch my head lightly and just breathe out heavily "We request formal retention on the hulls we can justify: one, maybe a pair of Victories, maybe two Arquitens some of the corvettes, and few transports, could say it is for security needs, multi-system defence, reparations against an unlawful campaign, that should appease the navy clerks."
Harlan glanced over. "That is not much to be honest."
"Well we have some wiggle room, some smaller ships that can still move under tow and are not worth showing to an auditor get shifted to quiet repair sites outside the main registers, preferably to our pirate dockyard, speaking of which we should give it a proper name to be honest. Anyway, any incomplete frames or mis declared salvage would go there. Yard barges under local industrial labels. Just some smaller craft that can be explained as human error or just destroyed beyond recognition, we should nab ourselves some ships like that.."
We ran projections until the light through the office window turned copper.
If the yard prioritized ruthlessly, the Victory and the two Arquitens could be brought to defensive service in stages over the coming months, that is if they let us keep it. Maybe we could have the flagship as well and give it to Orlen? Probably not I am afraid.
Corvettes, frigates and others could come online faster and matter sooner. Hidden towed hulls would either become a future reserve or a controlled strip-down feeding the rest. In all cases, manpower remained the real ceiling.
Again.
Sure does bring back memories.
Ships without loyal crews were just armed museums and ships crewed by incompetent crew or subpar droids would just get destroyed.
Rusty, who had been silent by the wall, finally spoke. "Current estimate: even under optimistic repair conditions, effective crewed expansion remains limited unless additional screened personnel or expanded droid command layers are acquired."
"Yeah, I know." I said.
****
Next day when I finally got to move back into the palace I was in my room, on my super comfortable bed, rolled like a sushi in my covers when I get incoming message.
I groan but non the less move to my table and see who it was.
Oh, its Thrawn.
What does he want?
Also the transmission bore Navy High Command routing marks and Thrawn's own authentication.
I opened it.
Grand Admiral Thrawn stated that a fleet under his command was already being staged for transit to Elyria. The purpose was written clearly and without any beating around the bush like other admirals would have no doubt done.
Reinforce the system and take command of all assets within the area, take stock of the military and political situation, and to do so in the name of Imperial Navy High Command. Local authorities were to prepare docking, communication, and inspection access. Estimated arrival sat between two and three weeks, subject to route conditions and interim developments.
I read it again, slower.
Reinforce.
Take command.
Those two phrases just made my sleep run out the backdoor. Great.
At least its Thrawn coming over not some stuck up core worlder.
I read more of his message and its just the general mumbo jumbo but there was more beneath the formal lines, things I could discern by actually knowing him.
Appreciation, for the way the defence has played out.
Disgust, equally restrained, at the waste of Imperial strength on a petty sector feud, there was also no pointless comfort or speak of 'working together' Just the sense that he had looked at the board, found the local result impressive and the surrounding mismanagement intolerable, and the High command along with him decided the Navy would no longer observe it from a distance.
Two or three weeks, it is plenty of time to finish most urgent repairs and sneak some hulls out of the systems, however the ISB is already on its way and will arrive earlier than him and they will start opening doors and dragging people for interrogation.
I am not even getting a bonus for my overtime, as I mutter that I sent a call to Reza first.
His image returned within a minute, clearly just having been awoken from sleep.
"If he brings a true fleet, Jerjerrod's friends might just storm the palace and present his head on a platter themselves." Reza said. "Though first they will start cleaning their own backyard before doing anything, they will not want him to get to know and read all their misdeeds. We should do the same."
"We are," I said. "Prepare formal reception protocols ahead of time, and make sure that not only the ISB but also whatever inspectors he brings with him will have full access on the ships and prisoners and draft a petition for us to keep some of the ships we have already discussed. That we want to have Orlen to remain within our custody. I want no amateur theatre when High Command starts asking who owns what."
"And the... salvage?"
"Keeps being salvage until I say otherwise. or they ask about it."
Reza almost smiled. "Two weeks is not much time."
"Then we do all we can."
After he signed off, I stood at the window and looked out over Havenridge's night grid. Few of the repair lights from the cranes were still shining while patrol craft were running low routes above the civic quarter.
Thrawn's arrival would make Darnis Jerjerrod's position even less tenable. That part I welcomed, the in depth audition not from one agency but two I am less enthusiastic about.
I recorded a formal acknowledgment to send to Thrawn.
Elyria would receive the fleet.
Local command would cooperate with reinforcement and inspection.
System defence would remain active until formal handoff protocols were established.
Then I sealed a second, private note for my inner circle only:
Accelerate screening and declared-yard work.
Finish every quiet tow before two weeks, if you think you wont be able to leave them, prioritise most intact ships first.
When that was done, I killed the display sighed and jumped into my bed and rolled into a giant sushi again.
****
A week later the system had started to look functional again, which was not the same thing as healed.
Havenridge's main avenues were open under militia traffic control. The palace had its power fully restored only some stuff needed to be patched up in lower levels while Durak's Hold sent daily repair counts/
Ships sat in assigned docks under guard while our quiet tows had already left, the ISB's field questions kept coming even though they are about three or so days out, but nevertheless they keep on sending requests for inventories, statements, and explanations, which I have already sent them over. Three times, they must be bored or something.
I was in the orbital traffic room above the port coordinating the ship orbits so that they do not get attracted by the gravity well of the planet or the moon when an unknown contact resolved out of the outer approach lanes.
"Unscheduled fleet approaching," the sensor officer said. "Not on merchant board neither is it on Navy timetable."
"Size?" I asked.
He worked the scope, frowned, and recalculated. "Roughly half the length of an Imperial I-class Star Destroyer, looks weird it is not looking like a dedicated warship its midsection is too deep and too many things sticking out of it that would obstruct the field of fire, looks civilian from the far sensors."
The image clarified as the object came farther in-system.
What entered our outer traffic pattern was a luxury starliner on a scale that made most passenger ships look like shuttles.
The lead vessel bore the registry lines of a Kuati Navis Regalia-class grand starliner, a rare deep-route hull built for houses that preferred to travel between sectors without ever touching public docks if they could help it. Length readings put her near 800 meters, with a broad oval superstructure, mirrored observation belts, and a gold-white hull finish broken only by discreet armour skirting along the lower flanks. She carried a couple heavy turbolaser batteries and a significant amount of light and point defence ones, the sensor returns showed military-grade shields, reinforced bulkheads, and enough power throughput to run both luxury habitation and serious defensive systems at once. Her name came through on passive broadcast a moment later:
HMS Radiant Covenant.
Covenant? I sure fucking hope not, I do not want to see split lips around these parts.
Around her flew a couple of 'reasons' why everyone became alert.
On point ran two Meresh-class heavy frigates, each about 280 meters, angular and overgunned for their size, with paired turbolaser mounts, missile tubes, and oversized engine blocks built for intercept work. Their hulls were matte charcoal, marked with private security heraldry rather than Imperial navy codes.
Flanking the liner were three Velorum-class escort corvettes, roughly 160 meters apiece, fast and narrow, designed to kill boarding craft and fighters before a VIP hull ever had to raise full shields. Trailing above and below the formation came a pair of Karthayne-class armed tenders, 200-meter hybrid ships that could pass as support vessels until the ventral gun decks opened.
Behind them, farther out, two old but carefully maintained Bayonet-class light cruisers that even during the age of the republic were always a topic of controversy, these so called light cruisers have enough fire power and shielding to overpower ships many times the size of them which have the disadvantage of being extremely expensive and having not a lot of cargo space, they held the heavy rear corners of the screen, each one a reminder that whoever owned this procession had paid for more than interior gardens and banquet halls.
"Those are private warships," Reza said over the link from Iron Reaver. "Expensive ones, and capable of battering us as we are now."
"Any fighter signatures?" I asked.
Lira was already on it. "Two squadrons minimum. Mixed interceptors and heavy assault fighters in the liner's under-bays and the frigate hangars, looks like they are using custom modified starfighters modelled after TIE interceptors but bulkier and capable of hyperspace travel and shields, along with a multitude of smaller gunships that looked like retrofitted assault craft and bombers.
The whole group came in under active transponder once they cleared the outer markers, which was either confidence or arrogance. Possibly both.
I was halfway to ordering a full defensive posture when the priority civil channel lit on my board.
Personal encrypted request, addressed directly to the Governor of Elyria.
I accepted albeit reluctantly, I still made a motion to the officer near me to continue putting our forces on alert.
Once the call connected I was greeted by something I really didn't expect.
It was a woman who appeared, she was older than me by less than a decade, perhaps twenty four?
She was dressed in formal dark blue with jewellery though restrained enough to signal taste and heavy enough to signal money. Behind her, partially in frame, were children: two boys and a girl, all younger than me, oldest possibly being elven and youngest two.
Her posture was straight though I can tell by her eyes that she was not calm.
"Governor Kael Voss," she said. "I am Lady Serin Jerjerrod, wife to Captain Orlan Jerjerrod. These are his children. We have come under peaceful petition to plead for his life and to offer ransom for his release."
She bowed her head, the children following behind her after she shot them a look.
I looked down at the sensor board that still showed the Radiant Covenant and her escorts holding a precise high orbit lane, shields banked but ready.
I looked at the woman, at the children, and at the armed luxury procession that had crossed into my system only one thought in my mind.
"Gods I want that ship and just sail all over"
But alas, that is just my wishful thinking.
"Then Mrs Jerjerrod, you will hold position, power down your weapons and targeting systems and accept local traffic control, and state your full terms through a controlled channel. If those ships move without clearance, you will be shot out of the sky. Children or no children."
Lady Serin's mouth tightened. She nodded once.
Behind me, the traffic room had started sending coordinates and signals to other ships to hold position.
****
I received them in a secured upper chamber of the town hall, not the palace.
That choice was deliberate, the palace still carried blast scarring and it is my home, plus she is not 'worthy' as the family of my prisoner to be received with all honours.
The town hall said civil authority, public process, and law.
Lady Serin Jerjerrod came in under escort with the three children behind her and two house advocates who had the soft hands and arrogance enough to fill the room.
Through the chamber window, high above the civil quarter, the Radiant Covenant held its assigned orbit like a jewelled threat. Her frigates and corvettes remained exactly where traffic control placed them. That obedience was the first useful thing she had offered.
Serin did at least bowed her head in respect as she entered.
"Governor Voss," she said. "My husband is alive in your custody, I am prepared to pay for his continued life, for the children's future, and for an end to this particular debt between your house and mine."
One of the advocates activated a holo-ledger. The ransom, bribe whatever you wanted to call it appeared in clean columns: hard credits and peggats across multiple banks, transfer deeds for two mid-rim warehouses, a controlling stake in a private bulk-freight concern, crates of refined materials already staged on the liner, and a sealed list of house accounts tied to Orlan's personal holdings rather than Moff Darnis's political web.
If this was not a negotiation I would have fucking whistled, she cares for him huh?
It was a serious offer.
The children stood silent, the eldest boy watched me with a controlled blankness that did not belong on a face that young.
Was that how the people felt when they saw me?
The younger boy kept his eyes on the floor and holding the lady by her skirt though it is clear he has been crying. The girl held her mother's sleeve and did not look at anyone.
"You understand what he participated in, even know you can see how much death he has contributed to?" I said.
"I understand what the Moff, his brother ordered," Serin answered. "I also understand that if you wanted Orlan dead, he would already be dead, and I would be negotiating over a body. You kept him. That means he still has some value or use for you"
Atii stood to my right and did not hide her dislike while Rusty remained near the wall, recording everything and Harlan sat with a legal slate, already annotating which parts of the ransom could be accepted without creating ownership claims outside Elyrian control.
We talked for nearly an hour.
I refused any arrangement that removed Orlan from my jurisdiction or handed him over even for a visit aboard the starliner, I refused external house security around him or even near his general area.
I refused political immunity as well.
Serin fought for visitation rights, for the children to remain with her aboard the liner under local monitoring rather than ground detention, and for a written guarantee that ransom acceptance meant no delayed execution after payment cleared. On that last point I gave her a narrow line:
Orlan would live if he remained useful and obedient and if he violated the terms, the agreement ended.
When the advocates tried to expand that into broader house protections, I shut them down.
Serin's composure cracked only once, when I said the children would be monitored as part of the household net whether they stayed aboard the liner or came groundside, they may visit him in his cell or any designated place we choose.
In the end she accepted what she could not change. The ransom would transfer into accounts Harlan structured for system reconstruction and defence procurement.
The Radiant Covenant would remain under traffic restriction until the first major transfers cleared. While Serin and the children would receive supervised residence rights in-system.
After they were escorted out, I had him brought in alone.
Orlan looked better than he had in the first interrogation and worse than any man entering a hopeful future.
He saw the residual holo of the ransom terms that were stamped with his wife's sigil and understood at once that his family had come.
"They're here," he said.
"They are," I answered. "They paid enough to keep you breathing if that is your concern. However, that is not the same as saving you."
He waited.
"Elyria needs experienced fleet officers," I said. "Not political ornaments or house princes. Officers who have actually have experience in commanding large formations and are capable of managing logistics for them. Reza remains my senior naval authority for major force operations, he is my only one I currently have and he will be my top naval authority, that does not change. What I am offering you is service under my authority and under his operational direction when assigned."
Orlan's eyes lifted. "A commission."
"A conditional function," I said. "You will work the jobs I tell you and you do them to my specific commands ,you will also advise and help train naval captain when you have the time like Reza and other senior officers I have with you having the priority on logistics and large fleet movements. You take command where I place you and you and your family remains monitored. If you step out of line, if they step out of line, if either of you begin playing house politics under my flag, I will end the arrangement in the most permanent way available and not waste a burial on the paperwork. For all of you."
I could tell he was about to leap at me and either beg or try to break my neck about me threatening his family, I could not bring my self to really care. I know even if I don't give the order people like Rusty and Torv would carry out my commands.
"And Darnis?" he asked quietly.
"Is not your concern unless I make him your concern."
Orlan looked at the closed door through which his wife and children had exited not even ten minutes ago, then back at me. The calculation in him was quick and simple.
Prisoner with a short future, or an instrument with a longer one.
"I accept," he said.
"Good."
I brought up a second board.
The planet the Black Sun are in control of, including their known routes, old contact logs and the coded transmission recovered from the edge of Darnis's circle, the one that listed parties who had either supported the invasion talk or kept open channels while publicly performing neutrality.
Black Sun sat among them, they talked about loyalty and partnership in one message while trading information at a premium in another, and still found near Darnis's political orbit when ships were being pointed at my system.
"You told us in the interrogation that your brother said that you would not have to fear anything from the black suns." I said.
Orlan's mouth tightened. "Yeah."
"Well, they sold friendship when it suited them, withheld warning when it mattered, and kept a foot in Darnis's rooms while telling my people they were realigning. I am done hosting these bastards that slip one way or the other depending how the light hits them."
I stood and walked around the table until I was directly across from him.
"Your first task is to take what remains of our available navy, including your repaired ships fit for action and any available imperial army units you still have, and root the Black Sun out of all the systems that are touching Elyria and the near lanes. Contact the Pykes or Crimson Dawn, I dont really care which. I would rather have a shadow that owes me something than one that rewrites itself every time a Moff looks in this direction."
"What exactly is to be done with them?" Orlan asked.
"Seize most of their local assets. Credits, ships, warehouses, ledgers, contacts. Bring their two chiefs before me. Kill everyone else tied to their active operations in this net. If they have any slaves free them and bring them as well, they will be relocated to our system."
He did not flinch, he just gave a grim nod of for his acceptance, this told me exactly what sort of a tool I had just picked up.
"Rules of restriction?" he asked.
"No independent diplomacy beyond the initial approach. No private bargains with their chiefs or quiet exemptions for people who offer you personal survival money. Reza will have oversight on force composition. You will have command in the field under the order I just gave. If Crimson Dawn or the Pykes require a price for cooperation, you bring that price to me before paying it in anything but enemy blood and seized goods."
Orlan nodded slowly. "And if the chiefs surrender early?"
"Then they can kneel before me along with all the other traitors and saboteurs and learn what conspiring against me and mine results in. Usefulness can only buy so much time, it is the same temporary mercy it bought you," I said. "I make no promise in advance."
The chamber was quiet except for the emitter's low hum.
Outside, far above the building, a house starliner full of children and ransom wealth waited for transfer confirmations. While all the guns in the systems were trained on it.
I needed the underworld around Elyria settled before the ISB arrives. The black suns have records and can give information and confessions to the ISB that I do not want them too, but as they have shown having an organised crime element proves to be useful. Better than multiple criminal organisations that are at eachothers throat and degrading the wider security in the region.
Thats why instead of purifying the entire sector I want it settled with a known arrangement under favourable terms for both.
"You'll receive force charts within the day," I said. "Droid support and large oversight on you and your officers."
Orlan held my gaze. "And my family?"
"They will remain under watch while you work. If you complete this cleanly, they will continue to enjoy my hospitality and protection and you will be able to have an extended supervised visit in Havenridge, rather than have them in detention or execution should you try something funny."
He inclined his head. Not in gratitude but acceptance.
"I'll need full copies of the coded transmission and every Black Sun contact still in your intelligence store," he said.
"You'll get them."
I ended the audience there and had him returned to secured quarters under the new status of conditional officer rather than simple prisoner. The distinction mattered on paper, in practice it meant one more dangerous man with a reason to obey.
When the room was empty, Atii finally spoke, smirk on her face clear to hear even though I can't see it I can hear it in how she talks.
"You're putting that dog back in its preferred doghouse"
"I'm putting a desperate specialist against an enemy that already betrayed both of us," I said. "If he succeeds, Elyria is cleaner before High Command arrives. If he fails, I learn the limit of his leash before that failure can cost me more."
She laughed and patted me on the shoulder.
"You sure are turning evil, threatening his wife and children and willing to exterminate the Black Suns, you are starting to become even more fun"
I just deadpan at her.
"Was I not fun before? Was it all just an act so you can weasle your way in so I give you the latest toys and ships? You wound me miss."
She takes off her helmet and tilts her head to the side, eyes alight with mirth.
"Perhaps my dear governor, I do like your expensive toys."
She then claps her hands.
"Speaking of which Kael..." Jokes on you puppy eyes do not work on m-
Is she doing kitty eyes? Oh god please no.
"Can I get a new ship my Scyk is kind of beat up"
My eye twitches as I look down at her.
Huh was I always this much taller than her?
AH FUCK
"Why did you punch me for woman!?"
"You were thinking something rude about my height"
What How? I didn't even say anything.
"What. How? I didnt even say anything?"
Oh fuck me and my big mouth.
She narrows her eyes and turns her head away from me.
"So you were thinking something rude about my height I will have you know I am perfect height for a woman my age."
I just look up at the ceiling and sigh, because I know she is going to go on a rant now for the next fifteen minutes.