**Chapter 626**
**Unknown Space – Hutt Space**
**Karabos-class Destroyer – Conference Chamber**
The 1,200-meter-long Karabos-class Destroyer hung silently in the void of unknown space, far beyond the reach of Republic or Separatist patrols. Its dark, angular hull blended seamlessly with the starfield, a fortress of crime and ambition. Inside the opulent conference chamber, the leaders and representatives of the galaxy's most dangerous criminal syndicates had gathered for one singular purpose: alliance.
The Black Sun ruling council — a cabal of Falleen nobles led by Xomit Grunseit — occupied one side of the long, polished table. They had sent Ziton Moj as their primary envoy, but the core leadership watched through secure holograms, their green-scaled faces impassive yet calculating. The Pyke Syndicate, led by Lom Pyke himself, sat directly opposite them, their tall, gaunt figures exuding an air of cold professionalism. The two syndicates were staring each other down with open hostility, old grudges simmering just beneath the surface.
Rintero, the new boss of the Crimson Dawn crime syndicate after Dagon had eliminated several of his subordinates on Savareen, lounged in a reinforced chair near the center, his expression one of barely contained irritation. The Ring of Moogan and Gotal smugglers, along with Nico Deemis' syndicate, filled the remaining seats, shifting uncomfortably in the presence of such powerful players.
The various low-level syndicates whispered among themselves, clearly uneasy. They didn't like being in the same room as Black Sun or the Pykes, let alone negotiating with them. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on.
Rintero was the first to speak, his voice dripping with skepticism. "What did you call us here for? And is this Jabba's plan for an alliance?"
The Hutt crime lord Marlo laughed deeply, his massive body shaking with amusement as he lounged on a reinforced dais. A blue hologram flickered to life at the head of the table — Count Dooku, appearing regal and composed in his dark robes, his expression one of calculated patience.
"My friends," Dooku began, his voice smooth and commanding, carrying the weight of centuries of political maneuvering, "we are gathered here to discuss a problem all of us are facing. This current galactic war, which should have made things easier for our businesses, has instead been disrupted by the Jedi known as Dagon Marek."
Murmurs of agreement and anger rippled through the chamber. Several crime lords nodded, recalling lost shipments, destroyed operations, and dead operatives at the hands of Dagon's forces. Rintero's face twisted in barely concealed rage at the mention of the name.
Dooku continued, leaning slightly forward in his holographic projection. "I come offering an alliance. Your forces join together with the Confederacy. We take Hutt Space as our shared territory and become allies against the Republic. In exchange, you gain access to neutral worlds within CIS space — and others where their so-called neutrality will be their downfall."
Half the room laughed at the boldness of the proposal. Rintero leaned forward, smirking. "And what guarantees do we get? You Separatists have been losing ground ever since Marek started carving through your fleets. Why should we tie ourselves to a losing side?"
Lom Pyke's gaunt face remained impassive, but his eyes gleamed with cold interest. "The Pykes have no love for the Republic, but we do not commit without profit. What exactly are you offering beyond vague promises?"
Dooku smiled thinly, unfazed. "Stability. Resources. And the removal of Dagon Marek as a threat. He has cost you all dearly — ships, credits, influence. Together, we can end him. The Confederacy will provide you safe passage through our territories, protection from Republic patrols, and priority access to black market routes that bypass Republic blockades. Hutt Space will be divided fairly among those who pledge loyalty."
Marlo the Hutt laughed again, slapping his thick tail against the floor with a heavy thud. "A fine offer, Count. But the Hutts do not bow easily. We require more than words."
The discussions grew heated. Black Sun demanded exclusive rights to certain spice routes. Crimson Dawn pushed aggressively for revenge against Dagon's forces. The smaller syndicates whispered about survival and profit margins, clearly terrified of being caught between giants.
Dooku listened patiently, his hologram flickering slightly. "The choice is yours, my friends. Join us… or continue to bleed under Marek's crusade."
The room fell into tense negotiation, the fate of the criminal underworld hanging in the balance as old rivalries clashed with the promise of new power.