Royal Proclamation

[Miranda Tarkin]

Her Imperial Majesty Miranda Tarkin and Baron Gallus Tagge
cordially invite you to the annual Children's Gala
~~~
Hosted at the Imperial Palace.
Promptly RSVP.
Palace Doors Open at 1800


The Children's Gala occurred at the same time every year since Miranda became Empress. Donors contributed heavily towards the future through the Empire's children in their formative years. This allowed expansion for after school recreation programs that catered to the child's interest, but it also served to assist families that may not have the income to properly care for their child. Food, medicine, and supplies were provided through an assistance program that helped fast track those children into military or Sub-adult leanings. Miranda wanted to groom the upcoming generation into service by feeling gratitude and acceptance by the current rule. Not all loyalty had to be earned by fear. A simple grant that lessened the cost of higher education for the Imperial Academy made many families willing to send their young man or woman into a life of service.

It would be another night to remember - food and alcohol overflowing as the credits poured directly from the bank accounts of Moffs and Admirals. Auctions would entice more credits to be spent on luxurious vacations, exotic foods, and a high end speeder donated from TaggoCo.

There was also an important announcement that had to be made and Miranda was going over how to deliver the news as she preened in front of a body length mirror in her suite to make sure her dress (http://www.writingts.com/image/cache/pic/tumewv1458620072125-500x539.jpg) was perfect. She pursed her lips and smoothed the fabric over her torso and abdomen, enjoying how she looked. She was practically glowing.

"Gallus? Sanya?" She pat the thin braid that weaved around her pinned bun. "Are you both ready yet?"

The Gala had already started but it was customary for the Empress to arrive once guests had been mingling for awhile, though there was a fine line between her anticipated arrival and being late. Her guests would only be appeased with hors d'oeuvres for so long!

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

Clothes may not quite make the man, but they help to frame him just-so.

Baron of the Empire Tadriin Ketterzau arrived to the gala in a bespoke suit with enough of an austere cut to qualify for officer's dress. His rank bar and code cylinder fit smartly, but it was the Star of Coruscant weighted prominently over his heart and held around his neck by a scarlet ribbon that accentuated the look. A gentleman's hair must always be well-coiffed, and his mustache equally so. Still, there was a way to minimize the effect and to disarm everyone he mingled with. Baron Ketterzau was hardly aloof and haughty. He smiled with his eyes, gave a proper handshake, and gabbed with anyone. Though he was permitted by class to carry a Baron's command baton, the ornamental piece spent most of its time tucked under one arm as an afterthought.

"Well, you see the Battle over Antares began as a rather desultory affair. More a boarding school scrap than a battle. We hadn't expected to find the rebels and the rebels hadn't expected to find us. Neither of us owned the sky from the outset and at first, there didn't seem to be a cracker-jack way to take it."

Baron Ketterzau accepted a canape, though did little other than gesture with it mildly as he talked.

"What really peeled the onion was that we both rather haphazardly figured out at once that it was a dash important bit of sky, and well, it quickly became a full-on donnybrook from there. Which is how I like it, I must say. That feeling when your margins are slim and you can't afford to make a mistake, there's nothing like it on solid ground."

Around him stood a half-circle of ten or so guests. The Baron had cultivated a persona as one of the Empire's most decorated aces, and he didn't mind playing the crowd at all. They usually asked him to.

[Sanya Tagge]

“Of course.”

The image of Sanya Tagge, shoulders bare in a black dress (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/10/d3/d5/10d3d5aa0d5bdb0e55073d1b4cba3a42.jpg), was reflected in the mirror, a short distance behind Miranda. Just how ‘ready’ Sanya was for an occasion such as this was something that the Baroness Administrator of Bespin had no doubt about. That she had been adopted, rather than born, into the Imperial aristocracy didn’t diminish the overwhelming sense that standing within the Imperial Palace was her birthright.

Having been raised almost entirely by the Sub-Adult Group, the charitable cause set to benefit from the evening was one that was close to Sanya’s heart. It was gratifying, to know that her actions would help a new generation benefit from the same unparalleled upbringing and education that she herself had received. Still, as much as she was proud of what the night would achieve, she was prouder still to be standing behind Miranda Tarkin, her Empress.

“You look…” she began, but her words were cut short as her brother emerged from an adjoining room.

[Gallus Tagge]

“Stunning!”

Gallus was still in the process of fastening a cufflink on his suit (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f7/39/18/f739188d10b1ff4440dbdb897328fdd3.jpg) jacket as he leaned over Miranda’s shoulder, placing a kiss on her cheek. When their reflected gazes met, he grinned. “As always.”

“Do you think we’ve kept them waiting for long enough?” the Baron asked, throwing a glance to his sister before stepping closer to Miranda, wrapping an arm around her.

[Bette Davis]

Commander Bette Davis of the Imperial Starfighter Corps, leader of the elite Shadow Squadron, first female pilot to graduate from the Imperial Academy on Carida, daughter of a knighted Chandrilan war hero ... was not about to be defeated by a dress (https://i.imgur.com/CvEy9DX.jpg). She tugged at it in the stretch-speeder she was sitting in, being delivered to a stuffy charity gala like a side of beef, or a bouquet of flowers, or something else vaguely demeaning.

Giving her chest one more adjustment, the double-sided fashion tape keeping everything together still valiantly doing its job, Bette tapped the invitation in her hand. Her father, Sir Charles Davis, had paid for her ticket in - and his as well, although a last minute scheduling conflict had prevented Sir Charles from actually attending.

Convenient.

The speeder slowed and stopped, and Bette extricated herself from its depths. The worst part of the slinky silver dress she found herself in was that there wasn't room to store a flask. Ducking back in she made sure she didn't owe the driver anything ("All paid for up front, miss.") and then she was faced with the walk up to and then inside of the Imperial Palace.

It was awe inspiring, a stunning edifice that proclaimed the Empire's might, and she'd never set foot inside it before. One last wiggle to make sure the dress was not going to just fall off, and Bette walked confidently into the gala, presenting her ticket in and immediately looking for the open bar.

[Nelaa Kyris]

Nelaa Kyris wasn’t really the type to attend big fancy events. As an Imperial field agent, she’d spent most of her adult life in hostile territory. As harmless as this little gala was, she still felt like she’d be safer undercover in a rebel base, wondering if she’d somehow blown her cover.

Tonight, however, was not optional, so she approached it like she would any mission. She created a little character in her head, then committed to it. Her clothes were the first part of the charade. She wore a sleeveless black dress with dark silver accents that smoothed her curves rather than accenting them. A small necklace hung around her neck, nearly the same color as her skin, with a small black stone inset into the pendant. To complete the look, she dyed her hair brown, figuring her usual red would stand out a bit too much.

She didn’t know many people here personally, but she recognized most of the faces she saw. Most of them weren’t that interesting, really. That was, until one of them was. She started moving through the room casually, stopping at times to mingle on the edge of a group before moving on. At some point she’d acquired a glass of champagne that she kept as more or a prop than a drink. She was in no big hurry to confront the person she’d suddenly taken interest in, but she did want to be nearby if the opportunity came up to speak with them alone.

[R. S. Esalis]

Standing mostly alone and to the side, a figure watched everything with a cold, icy gaze that made the owner of those eyes seem far colder than the high winter of Hoth. Raven hair had been allowed to fall, styled in a simple cut that framed the face. There was no gown worn - rather a simple suit. Black as the night, and a thick, high-necked overcoat that had been embroidered at the edges. Tinges of gold could be seen shimmering in accent, and the earrings of unassuming golden studs seemed to finish the ensemble. It was nothing more and nothing less that was expected of the Director of Imperial Intelligence.

One hand held a champagne flute, and the other was folded back.

She saw the man, Ketterzau, as he entertained the flock that had gathered around him. She watched the comings of those just arriving. She watched the furtive and smooth looks of the others. All seemed as normal as any such event.

A deep breath, and Esalis lifted the delicate Coruscanti crystal to her lips, taking a demure sip.

[Wulfgarn Schreiger]

"Good evening, Director."

Another figure affixed to the periphery of the gala, less interested in conversation and more in observation. Unlike Esalis, Schreiger's attire had not changed from his usual appearance, maintaining the cream and black uniform of an ISB officer. A waiter approached to offer Wulfgarn a flute of champagne. A teetotaler by habit, Director Schreiger refused it.

"I hope you are having a pleasant party." Wulfgarn had a way of speaking that was both polite and cold. He used the affectations of emotional response when it suited him, but on closer inspection, it all seemed to be artificial, like he was wearing a mask. "It's quite a large one, isn't it? So many interesting people in one place."

[Lise Tarkin]

If not for appearances to keep, Lise was fairly certain her daughter would have burned her mother's invitation. Having been part of many philanthropic endeavors for Imperial children, it would appear odd and ignite gossip that mother and daughter were not aligned. It was the last thing either of them needed with court or material for slanderous holozines and talk shows. She played her part as the proud mother, dutifully organizing fundraisers for the family, and denouncing everything her other child stood for.

Miranda knew the truth in her mother's heart that deep affection for Navaria remain and she did not share the same feelings in rehabilitating her Jedi twin despite being very vocal to the contrary.

So another ball and pretending to play nice.

She made her (https://pmchollywoodlife.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/lena-headey-emmys-2014-emmy-awards-gty-ftr.jpg?w=600) way through the crowd, champagne flute in hand, mingling with guests. Offering polite smiles and welcomes, idle chatter of topics that she was well versed in but didn't actually care for. Rubbing shoulders with high military personal who loved to share stories about her late husband, Captain Andron Tarkin, that Lise had heard hundreds of times, but she had the same practice poise of finding the stories endearing with a plastic smile...

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

While brother and sister Tagge fawned over the Empress in her splendor, a figure stood patiently at the door, completely still until beckoned. Lady Vissica's armor had been updated with a veneer more suitable for court. The light in the room caught on its silvery profiles, accented by the asymmetrical shawl cape that draped over her shoulders and left arm. In addition to bolstering the Empress's security with her own Royal Guard, the Selonian Knight was herself available as a bauble for Miranda to show off to her guests, if needed.

[Reinhart Thul]

There was no mistaking Reinhart Thul for anything other than what he was. Standing head and shoulders above many of the Empress’s guests, the sight of the Inquisitor was like a cold splash of water in the face for some in attendance. He wore the maroon, zeyd-cloth cloak that had been the hallmark of the Inquisitor’s during Emperor Palpatine’s reign, the blood-red fabric a heavy mantle around his shoulders. It was the only badge of office needed, and seemed to be acting as a warning flag to anyone who might think to engage him in conversation. A waiter, who had moments before unsuccessfully tried to offer a drink to the Director of the Imperial Security Bureau, approached with a tray still laden with glasses - but when his eyes met Reinhart’s, he turned mid-step, in search of a friendlier face.

[Jensen Par'Vizal]

Cadet Par'Vizal supposed he should be rather proud to stand where he currently did, with hands clasped behind him and his eyes attempting to focus forward rather than glance at the royal entourage. To be alongside the likes of Lady Vissica at an event, on an evening such as this, was one of those tasks that he was supposed to brag about, surely. However, when the questions of "Why you?" had come from his fellow cadets, Jensen had only been able to answer honestly, "I was told to." Oh sure, he allowed himself a secretive smile at how their reactions had ranged from baffled to enraged, but no more than just a fleeting satisfaction at how it perturbed his peers.

Now that he was here, adorned in his all black formal dress uniform, it was hard to forget that he was not here to socialize or be part of the revelry. This was an assignment, prestigious yes, but the same as any other in that it was to be completed to the best of his ability. It was, however, far easier to remember that his very continued existence - and those with similar once outlawed gifts - was allowed to endure at the pleasure of the Empress when she was quite literally standing in the same room as him.

[Bette Davis]

"And what will the lady have?" The bartender was human, not a droid as Bette had half-expected, and easy on the eyes with curly blond hair.

"Whisky. Just a whisky, I don't care what kind it is." She awkwardly leaned an elbow on the bar, and then straightened up, still trying to figure out how to move around in the dress. Apparently you're not supposed to do anything but take small steps and stand in place like a porcelain doll.

Bette had had a collection of heirloom quality porcelain dolls when she was a child. The value had been drilled into her because it was what her nanny had shrieked whenever she'd found one face down in a mud puddle or lined up for target practice on the outdoor range at the estate. "These are heirlooms!"

Bette turned gratefully when the glass appeared beside her, taking the drink and sipping it while she tried not to view the crowd like the strange specimens that they were.

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

"Excuse me, please."

The Baron kindly untangled himself from his current cluster of conversations, spying better game in the general vicinity. He raised his baritone voice slightly.

"Commander Davis?"

When she turned at the sound of her name, Ketterzau's smile showed teeth.

"A pleasure to meet you, at last."

[Bette Davis]

Bette nearly dropped her drink when she saw who was standing behind her. Eyes going a little wide, she juggled her whiskey into her left hand and stuck out her right.

"Kath Hound? I mean, sorry, Baron Ketterzau. Uh, shit." Bette could hear her father sighing in her mind. "I read almost all your missions when I was in the academy."

It was the real, live, honest to gods Baron Ketterzau and he knew her name. Well, why wouldn't he? You're the new ace. Ketterzau shook her hand, and when he released it Bette took what she hoped was a casual sip of her whisky.

[Miranda Tarkin]

With a throaty chuckle, Miranda leaned against Gallus. "I think enough time has passed."

She cast a delighted smile up towards her husband that towered over her before bringing her gaze back towards Sanya. Miranda adored the Tagge siblings. They had been friends since childhood and she couldn't have been prouder in calling them family. A marriage of convenience and strategic maneuvering had quickly transformed fondness into love for the both of them. It was just a pity that Sorsha couldn't have reined in her jealousy to embrace what the union of Tagge and Tarkin had created.

Unconsciously she touched her stomach at the thought, momentarily angered by how her relationship had ended with the former Black Sun Vigo. The small creases of discontent faded as there was a party to attend and with it, a very important announcement to give their honored guests.

"Let's make our grand entrance, hm?"

[Nelaa Kyris]

After mingling through the crowd, Nelaa began making her way toward her mark. She had been eyeballing Commander Bette Davis since the woman had entered the gala. Most people there would know Bette as one of the Empire's best pilots (the best, if you didn't hold being a woman against her), but Nelaa was probably one of the few who knew her as the one who'd brought in the plans for the Starkiller weapon system. Just as she was about to approach, however, someone else had taken notice of Bette and followed a more direct path to get to her.

At first, Nelaa was content to wait the man out until she realized who it was. Damn, Ketterzau. If he starts telling war stories we'll be here all night. Nelaa showed no outward signs of it, but her mind was off to the races, reformulating her plan and weighing consequences. After a few moments she altered her path and took a detour to the bar. She pounded back a shot of something strong and brown and swished it around in her mouth a few times before swallowing. With a little extra purpose in her stride, she made her way directly to Bette, brushing by Ketterzau as if she never even saw him.

"Oh my god, Commander Bette Davis, I did NOT expect to see you here! And oh! This dress looks AMAZING on you!"

The sway in her posture and booze on her breath made her seem as if she'd indulged in the open bar a bit too much. Bette wasn't even remotely hiding the absolute horror on her face as Nelaa completely invaded her personal space and began actually tugging at the side of Bette's dress.

"You know I was going to go strapless to but I decided not t..."

She stopped mid sentence, suddenly noticing Baron Ketterzau. Her hand shot to her mouth.

"Oh god, I am SO SORRY I didn't even notice you were talking to someone." She turned to Ketterzau. "Please forgive me, I hardly know anyone here, and before I saw Bette I had just been wondering around..." She glanced back to Bette for a moment. "...like a nomad."

The two women locked eyes for a split second before Nelaa turned back to Ketterzau.

"Oh! You must be Sir Charles Davis. It is an absolute honor to meet you sir. You must be so proud of all your daughter has accomplished!"

[Bette Davis]

Bette had no idea what was happening any more. As Kyris interrupted her conversation with the Baron and then began adjusting her dress for her Bette’s mouth dropped and intense social horror began to wash over her.

She had barely comprehended the agent’s use of the word “nomad” when Kyris turned to Ketterzau and called him Sir Charles. Bette, trying to casually sip her whisky to gain some semblance of control, choked on the drink, burning her nose.

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

Whoever this woman was, she was brassy, uncouth, and at least three drinks past decorum. Of course, it wasn't his duty to police the Empress's guests, but she had committed the ghastly mistake of confusing him for someone else entirely. Even if that someone else was the well-esteemed Charles Davis.

You must be so proud of all your daughter has accomplished!

"I must be." Ketterzau's grin didn't show teeth, but it was polite, buoying the fringes of his mustache as he cut a curious expression towards Bette.

[Gallus Tagge]

As the Empress’s entourage descended through the Imperial Palace, sounds of the gala began to reach Gallus’ ears. The low, muted hum of traffic from Coruscant’s upper levels gave way to the strains of music, to the buzz of conversation and laughter. It was not often that the doors to the Palace were opened to so many, and rarer still was the occasion when the ranks of the Empire gathered to celebrate. Even the joyless expressions of Miranda’s personal bodyguards could not chase the smile from Gallus’ face.

“Here we are,” he said, his sister at his back and the ranks of the Imperial Knights arrayed around them all. All that stood between the Empress and her people was a single set of admittedly rather impressive doors.

[R. S. Esalis]

Originally posted by Wulfgarn Schreiger
"I hope you are having a pleasant party. It's quite a large one, isn't it? So many interesting people in one place."


She said nothing at first, instead simply continuing her observations.

Finally, her silence seemed to break, and she brought her offhand around to cup the bottom of her champagne flute.

"It is interesting, to say the least."

She nodded in the direction of Davis and Ketterzau.

"Two decorated soldiers and pilots, both displaying their plumage in vastly different ways. Rather fascinating, I must say."

[Miranda Tarkin]

Palace guards waited stoically for the signal from Miranda to open the doors, but she took a few moments to admire her husband and offered a cheerful smile over her shoulder towards Sanya. Her closest and most trusted people were with her on this special day. It was perfect.

She faced forward again, ready to see her guests.

"Open the doors," she commanded.

The red armored guards that flanked the doors simultaneously stepped to the side at attention, force pikes perfectly tucked against their sides. One reach for the panel adjacent to them to open the doors. There was the usual loud clunk of the locks freeing before the whirr of machinery finished the process. Confident and elegant, she waited patiently for the doors to open fully and be announced.

When the doors clanked into place, the royal herald noticeably straightened, garbed in grey and black surcoat trimmed with purple and gold.

"Honored guests, may I introduce the royal family. Her Imperial Majesty, Empress of the Galactic Empire Miranda Tarkin I accompanied by Baron Gallus Tagge, Prince Consort to the Empire and Baroness Sanya Tagge of Bespin."

With a flourish, he turned and bowed as the entourage made their grand entrance along the red carpet, flanked by the Imperials Knights that walked on the floor next to them as proper with their station. It delighted her to see the Assembly Hall packed with dignitaries throughout the Empire who were eager to see the royal family...

[Wulfgarn Schreiger]

"You're focusing on the small pieces on the Dejarik board."

Schreiger frowned, dismissing the peacocking pilots out of hand.

"Pilots stump for war bonds and recruitment drives. They don't do much else. Not when compared to these other guests."

Indeed there were many conventional sycophants in attendance. Moffs, nobility, assorted power brokers. These people represented possibility. Schreiger's eyes twinkled, he was in his element.

"Everyone is so focused on being seen when showing fealty. It almost makes it difficult to focus on the dissolute."

[Sanya Tagge]

As she swept into the gathering with all of the majesty befitting of her station, all eyes were on the Empress. Sanya was no exception. She walked a short distance behind Miranda and Gallus, her gaze following the Empress’s as Miranda deigned to turn a glance or a smile towards one of her subjects. Between the three of them, they had a lifetime of experience in the art of public appearances. It didn't matter that Sanya walked alone; she carried herself with a lift to her chin and a straightness to her back that defied anyone who might see her as anything less than she believed she was.

[R. S. Esalis]

"Those small pieces are what drives this Empire, and carry out the will of the Empress."

Words spoken quietly, even as Empress Miranda Tarkin made her entrance. The Imperial retinue was always a sight to see, and now was certainly no different. With curiosity and a thin smile, Director Esalis watched. Every head had turned to lay eyes upon the head of their government, and the murmurs weaving through the gathered guests was palpable. They were mostly awestruck, with tinges of eagerness and excitement woven in to the fabric of it all.

Her next words were low, so that only he could hear.

"If you ignore those, then you will lose everything we strive for. Everything that our Empress hopes to achieve."

[Tatiana Renkl]

Among the many present guests, Moff Tatiana Renkl was observing the proceedings. After personally meeting the Empress a while ago, during her first official trip to Cloud City after her overseer roles had expanded form solely the Koradin Sector to now include the Greater Javin one, it had made even more sense for her to ensure her schedule allowed for traveling to Imperial Center for such official festivities. It was all the more meaningful for her that it was the annual Children's Gala. After all, the Empress and her had found common and specific interest in their understanding and support of education to build a brighter and stronger Empire.

The Duchess (https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.hawtcelebs.com%2Fw p-content%2Fuploads%2F2015%2F02%2Fnoomi-rapace-at-2015-ee-british-academy-film-awards-in-london_1.jpg&imgrefurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.hawtcelebs.com%2Fnoomi-rapace-at-2015-ee-british-academy-film-awards-in-london%2F&docid=q6IV1Zu9UAZ0zM&tbnid=6YKb5fOmzfJNMM%3A&vet=12ahUKEwidu7616avjAhUmTd8KHbOmAJQ4yAEQMygpMCl6 BAgBECo..i&w=1200&h=1943&client=firefox-b-1-d&bih=955&biw=1920&q=noomi%20rapace&ved=2ahUKEwidu7616avjAhUmTd8KHbOmAJQ4yAEQMygpMCl6B AgBECo&iact=mrc&uact=8) knew too well how partaking to appropriate events was not only a token of respect to their Empress; but also a potentially worthy networking time.

She had recognized certain faces at the gathering, both from the higher circles and others from what some might consider mere cogs in the grand scheme of things. Tatiana knew that "mere cogs" were more than that, for without the multiplicity of personnel that supported it, the Galactic Empire wouldn't be what it was, and what it could become. Loyalty had to be fostered, education had to be encouraged so greater minds would emerge in all branches of service.

Accepting a second flute of champagne, she took a sip right before the Empress made her entrance, followed by both Tagge siblings. While Tatiana had never met the royal consort, she had got acquainted with the Baroness Administrator of Cloud City. Sanya Tagge had already earned a significant modicum of respect from the Moff, and she was looking forward to working further with the Baroness.

Although most guests' attention remained on the Empress during her grand entrance, Tatiana's eyes wandered across the room, people watching out of habit, one that had been ingrained in her during her time at the academy and later when serving in the Navy during the war.

[Rigel Bismarck]

"Ah, Moff Renkl," an urbane voice spoke up from behind her to the right. Its owner stepped into view beside her, offering a gloved hand. "A pleasure to see you again."

With his free hand, Rigel Bismarck extended a small plate with several cheese cubes. "May I offer you an edible?"

[Tatiana Renkl]

Tatiana recognized the voice even before her fierce gaze felt upon Bismarck. Without hesitation, she accepted his handshake, and returned it firmly. As lady-like as she could be, she had had every reason to earn her Kinslayer callsign back in her days in the Imperial Navy. While their careers had diverged, she still respected what he stood for, even when he had a talent to have people hate him, something she did herself on occasions, and for what she wouldn't apologize.

"Likewise, Admiral Bismarck. It does take the Empress to bring some of us all the way to Imperial Center, doesn't it?"

She quirked a brow and smirked at his offer, before reaching out to fetch one of the cheese cubes.

"These don't look like gourmet ration bars, so I'll take the risk," she quipped.

[Rigel Bismarck]

"Oh rest assured, dear Governess, these are the finest in-" Rigel paused briefly to examine the plate at eye level, then continued. "Expensive non-meals. I look forward to the point at which they serve something of greater substance."

"I hope you are enjoying the festivities." Rigel commented, then chewed thoughtfully as he watched Miranda continue her grand entrance with Gallus, followed closely by the royal family. "I must admit, I was somewhat surprised to receive an invitation. Had I not, I might still be overseeing certain projects back on Sillesk."

[Jensen Par'Vizal]

Ostentatious. It was a word that wanted to peek up over the wall he had steeled himself behind for this assignment, and one that Jensen had to continue to batter down. There was a reason for all of this grandeur, after all. It was for the benefit of the Empress herself, for the benefit of her guests, for the benefit of those who would hear of this evening secondhand. It was not there in all its splendor to be judged by the likes of him. His mentor would have cuffed him upside the head and somehow Jensen felt the blow despite it's absence. He should be learning from this experience, studying those within the hall all while staying to his duty of guarding the Empress alongside Lady Vissica.

There was a nauseating familiarity to it all, though. Perhaps that was why he had been placed here. If he squinted so the shapes of those attending blurred he could just make out the visage of Colonel Caanan Par'Vizal and his wife, not prestigious enough to be within direct orbit of the Empress but lingering on the sidelines. The children wouldn't have attending an event such as this, they would have been regulated home, the eldest playing watchdog for the younger all the while an appointed nursemaid for the evening kept a watchful eye on the pair.

But no. Those times were in the past and this event, this operatic display was meant to celebrate the here and now. A show of the Empress rather than the Emperor his parents had served. Times changed. Far for the better, it seemed.

The Knight Cadet surveyed the room, trying to brush off the sensations of festivity and joviality that leaked towards him from the others in the room. It was not an experience he relished, but rather of necessity, of awareness. He was not here to partake, after all. Merely observe and act should the unlikely need arise. A figure then, a statue, a being representing the good the Empress had done in regards to those of his kind. Very well, let him serve as a silent and shining example.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica moved along with the royal procession, her posture upright as the occasion demanded. A sea of sentient life awaited them in the ballroom, each person a cloud of emotions and motivations. The Selonian looked from guest to guest with cool dispassion, while ever wary for a threat that could come with a smile and a handshake in such a place.

Her eyes cut briefly to Jensen, and Vissica nodded once. He knew his duty as did she. There was nothing that needed to be said of it.

[Miranda Tarkin]

The route through the hall took them straight through the crowd that had long since been parted by Imperial Guards to make way for the royal family. Guests that were not closest to the procession tried to strain their necks to get a better glimpse as they walked by and were disappointed when it were bulky helmets blocking the view. Four guards walked ahead of the family, ready to intercept any threatening guest within seconds before reaching the Empress or her family.

The family's destination was the raised platform on the far side of the room. Red banners displaying the Imperial Crest hung down from the ceiling to flank the stage softly lit up by lighting that continued through the back part of the stage.

Miranda subtly tugged her dress up and gracefully climb the few set of stairs before taking her place behind the black podium. She casually glanced at either side to ensure that Gallus and Sanya had taken their spots behind her. Then blue eyes took to the full room.

"My honored guests - Welcome to the Annual Children's Gala!" Her smile was honest and bright. "It brings me joy knowing that every year since the gala was first launched, we have raised millions of credits each year for our children. Our future for the Empire. Just being here shows your commitment to providing quality services and education for our citizens that will one day follow in your footsteps. Either as political and military leaders that will ensure the safety and security of our empire. Or ... becoming leaders of industry to continue our robust legacy of trade throughout systems."

She paused and brought a hand up in a tight fist for emphasis. "All of this potential starts in childhood. And now more children will have the opportunity to join the Sub-Adult Group ... the Imperial Academy ... and the Tarkin Institute because they now have access to a fundamental education in their formative years."

Lowering her hand, Miranda's eyes softened as she fought her lips trying to tug back in another smile. "The gala is special to me since Sanya and I started it years ago." She took a moment to gaze towards her and then finally allowed the smile to take shape before acknowledging her with a nod.

Then she pulled her gaze away back to the crowd. "But this year's gala holds special significance for me and my family ..."

That was the signal for Gallus to step forward and take a place at her side. When Miranda felt his presence she took a moment to beam up at him before addressing the assembled. Her heart was racing with excitement for the formal announcement.

"... because we are adding to that future."

She smiled as she caught the glimmers of understanding with the nearest guests and soon filled in the blanks for the ones that hadn't caught on yet. "We're expecting our littlest addition in the spring and we're delighted that we can share this incredible news with you all."

[Gallus Tagge]

With characteristic lack of restraint, there was no attempt from Gallus Tagge to hide his grin as he squeezed Miranda’s hand in his own.

“Thank you all for being here this evening, to celebrate with us.”

Reporters whose presence was sanctioned, in all senses of the word, by the Empire captured the broad smile Gallus wore. The image of his joy streamed into thousands of TaggeCo offices and businesses around the Galaxy as part of a live broadcast, a way for employees to be part of the momentous occasion while still remaining productive members of the TaggeCo corporate empire.

“Please, give generously... We’re relying on your donations to put the kid through college,” Gallus said, his grin becoming a little crooked as he laughed at his own dumb joke. Of course there was plenty of polite laughter and applause from the galas attendees. Where there was no laughter or smiles, Gallus didn’t notice; he was far too swept up in the moment to feel anything but elated.

“Enjoy the party, everyone!” he said and then dipped his head to press a kiss to Miranda’s cheek, speaking low enough that only she would hear: “I know I will.”

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

If ever there ever could have been a shining example of being within the belly of the beast meant, this was it; and oh what a beast the Empire was. Perhaps not to many within the room, but to her, there was no greater monster, no greater adversary. Just as the Gala could have been used to describe one of the Corellian Hells come to life for the rebel, so too could Charlotte have served as a primary example of what happened to those who knew just how vile the Empire truly was; first-hand experience was the greatest of all teachers, after all. Her entire miserable life had seemed to make way for this very moment though; standing among those for whom the word loathe wasn't nearly enough to describe her feelings towards. It was sad in a way that she was not here as she once could have been proud to be, a member of the Rebel Alliance, a soldier with a cause. The Alliance of Free Planets saw an end to that. But Corellia wasn't free, Coruscant wasn't free, and Aalderaan had only found freedom in oblivion. It was no Alliance of Charlotte's.

The entire evening, as her and her associate - her closest living friend - had been among the unseen staff members of the gala, her heart had pounded so loud that Charlotte could barely hear anything save for the constant beat of her destiny. It wasn't the task at hand that she was apprehensive about, it was being unable to fulfill it. But here, her nerves, the anxiety edging at her, eating her alive... was an ally. To those dressed in the simple uniform of the aids and waiters, those that collected empty glasses and offer refills, each of their hearts beat out the same harrowed rhythm. After all - who would want to be the one to spill a fine bubbly wine on a Moff and the cause of the ruin of the Empress' big moment? Who would want to ruin a benefit for children?

Charlotte busied herself during the Empress' speech by refilling several crystalline glasses with beverages for those whose very presence was as poison to her. A fellow server came by to collect twin glasses that would be offered to a guest. Her and the other made eye contact, an unspoken toast that would only have an imaginary after drink shared between Charlotte Tur'enne and Dashiel Starborn. Here's to us. Here's the to death of the Empire.

[Dashiel Starborn]

It was more than just the starched collar and bowtie around Dashiel Starborn’s neck that made it hard to breathe. As an agent of Rebel Intelligence, he had been placed in plenty of precarious positions and operated in the unknown under immediate threat of danger - but this was different. He was standing inside the Imperial Palace, in the same room as Miranda Tarkin herself. They were moving among the enemy in plain sight. One misstep would be all it took to reveal who they were and in doing so, unravel everything that they had worked for.

When Charlotte met his gaze, a wordless understanding passing between them, Dash felt his chest tighten. They were rapidly approaching the point of no return, the moment when everything would change forever. All the things that he might have or should have said would now have to go unspoken. For an instant, he could see just a hint of the anger behind her eyes. The hatred of the Empire that had brought the two of them to this fateful moment. There was no time for regrets. He knew what he was signing up for in returning to Coruscant, there was no doubt about that. Knew that it was a once in a lifetime mission and that there wasn’t a snowball's chance on Tatooine that he was going to let Charlotte execute the mission on her own.

As the Empress’s guests absorbed and began to discuss the revelation that she was expecting a child, Dash watched the crowd, watched the movement in the room as people drifted from one social circle to another. Most important of all, however, he watched Charlotte. Watched and waited for her signal.

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

The point of no return, the event horizon, whatever you wanted to call it... it came. It came with the way that Tarkin moved from behind the podium, how she was in clear unobstructed view of the rebel's vision. Any point from this on she would be with others, shaking hands and having her royal arse kissed by those who found the bravery to approach. Given the Empress' joyous revelation, some may have had a change in heart, a change in target... Not Tur'enne. Killing the Empress wouldn't undo all the pain and hurt the Empire had caused the galaxy, it wouldn't bring back Charlotte's parents, nor Rask and the rest of the Infiltrators of the 5th, nor Xander, nor Glayde. It wouldn't undo time and somehow make everything make sense again. But it would make a point - The rebellion wasn't gone - it wasn't an Alliance anymore, but the spirit of revolution, of refusing to give in, wasn't gone. The fire would keep burning.

If she'd had her way, Charlotte would never have been in that room, but rather across the way, in a lonesome room with a lonesome gun and a single shot between her and the end. Here though, like this? This was where it had to happen. They had to see her, and if this was the last thing that a nameless blonde insurgent would ever be known for, then so be it. The rogue force user that the Alliance could proudly say they had severed ties with.

The concealed blaster felt heavier than it had any right to as she retrieved from where it had been strapped tight against her body. She looked back to Dash, a hint of apology in her gaze, of things that they probably could have done together, of the good that could have come rather than the imminent violence. But just like everything else, it couldn't be undone.

It was too risky to give any sort of verbal or gestured signal, an instant of time that one of the Empress' pet Force Users could have picked up on. She'd learned how to block them out, it was all that could be done from keeping the Monster that sometimes invaded her dreams from seeing this moment as well.

She kept her movements slow, the bottle of sparkling wine raised to fill more glasses, the bottle held snug against the blaster as it was raised, leveled towards the Empress and in one desperate breath, a cry of For Corellia came to her thoughts, and the trigger was pulled in rapid succession. One shot wasn't enough this time.

[Dashiel Starborn]

In a single heartbeat, everything changed. Dash knew the part he had to play. With his hands at last free of the tray he’d carried most of the evening, he fumbled for his concealed blaster and squeezed off a warning shot that scorched hole in the ceiling. While Charlotte trained her shots on Miranda Tarkin, he took aim at one of the crystalline chandeliers hanging high above the ballroom. A trio of bolts collided with the fixture holding ornate light fitting in place, sending a rain of dust and debris down onto the heads below before the chandelier itself began to plummet. Dash didn’t pause, didn’t wait to see the impact. He was already sprinting into and shoulder-barging his way through the crowd, vaulting over and scrambling under tables, letting off wild shots in every direction.

[Sanya Tagge]

A smile had remained fixed to Sanya’s features as Gallus and Miranda shared their good news with the gala. It was a bittersweet moment. To know that Miranda would at last have the heir that she wanted, the heir that had been key to ensuring her ascension from Moff to Empress in the first place… that was joyous. Though Sanya had come to terms with the envy that she felt, it would always be difficult to look at the happy couple and not wish that it was a different Tagge on Miranda Tarkin’s arm.

As she took a generous sip from a champagne flute, a blaster bolt screamed past Sanya. She gave a cry of alarm and someone tried to shove her to the ground. Some well-meaning idiot who wanted to protect her instead of the Empress. Fear lanced through her heart. Her glass had smashed when she had fallen, little shards of it biting into her palm with a pain that panic and adrenaline had completely overridden.

“No!” she struggled and fought against whoever was trying to hold her down, to put their body between Sanya and whoever was firing into the crowds.

Whether it was muscle-memory from her childhood in the military or something more preternatural, she found the strength to shove aside the human-shield - not seeing their face, not caring to, barely registering them as anything other than an obstacle. It wasn’t her job to protect the Empress, but that didn’t stop her from lurching towards where she could see Miranda in the crowd ahead.

[Gallus Tagge]

Gallus couldn’t stop grinning. As happy as he was to share their news with the Empire, it was all just a pale shadow of how he’d felt the day that Miranda had revealed to him she was pregnant.

“We have to-” he started to say, but never finished.

At that moment, a blaster bolt hit his shoulder. As his body twisted from the impact, another collided with his right eye. Gallus pitched backwards, falling against Miranda.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

There was no alarm in the force until the first shot rang out. By the time that Vissica could put herself between the danger and Miranda, Gallus had been stricken severely.

"Protect the Empress!" She bellowed, as her gleaming white saber growled to life. Vissica lashed out towards a threat she felt before she saw, turning the drinks tray and the pistol in Charlotte's hands into slag in a broad swipe of her weapon. While her first instinct was to engage and destroy the assassin, the Selonian stuck to her mandate, standing over the royal couple as she shielded Tarkin with her lightsaber.

[Bette Davis]

Agent Kyris in her 'drunk girl' guise melted away into the crowded ballroom, leaving a flustered Bette alone again with Baron Ketterzau.

"Gods, someone should speak to the bartenders about over serving the guests." She sipped her drink and tried put the incident out of her mind. "Sorry about that?"

Ketterzau waved it away with a gloved hand. He really was just as handsome as his posters claimed.

Small talk was awkward, but Bette plunged ahead and he was laughing about a stupid joke she'd made when all hell broke loose. Immediately her mind flicked back to the rally, years ago, with Chancellor Anar (https://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?14369-Rally-Round) and the explosion -- Bette ducked as shots rang out, grabbing for a blaster that wasn't there.

Above her, plaster rained down as the chandelier rocked, and Bette grabbed Ketterzau's arm, yanking him forward and out of the way as the ornate light fixture fell to the ground.

[Baron Tadriin Ketterzau]

"Bloody hell!"

The Baron almost fell as he was pulled out of danger, turning at the sound of a deafening crash of crystal behind him. Like Bette, his hands also moved by muscle memory, and he noted with a frown that he was unarmed.

"I'm afraid I'm a little overdressed for a firefight!" He said as the two pilots scrambled behind an upended table. There were at least two gunmen, one of which looked like he was firing wildly at targets of opportunity. The other - much closer to the Empress, was being engaged by one of her Knights.

[R. S. Esalis]

The shots that had exploded into existence were so unexpected, yet Esalis felt her body move as muscle memory took over. On the periphery, with Schreiger, the Director could do nothing but ensure her own safety... and his as well.

Though, she had a healthy notion that he too was reacting in much the same way.

Reaching out to grab his hand, the Director whirled about to pull the both of them behind a pillar for temporary safety.

"We have to get to the Empress," she growled out, her hand tightening its grip on his own.

[Wulfgarn Schreiger]

Schreiger pulled his arm free once under the cover of the pillar.

"To do what, exactly? Be a human shield? We're armed with stemware and canapes."

The Director pushed up his jacket sleeve, jabbing a gloved hand into buttons on a wrist comm.

"My guard squadron can be here in minutes. In the meantime, the less we're shot at, the better."

[Rigel Bismarck]

Rigel glanced to Tatiana as further echoes of blaster fire sounded on the opposite side of the support column they'd both taken shelter behind. "Apologies, Governess," he frowned. "It seems the rest of our conversation will have to wait. Duty calls."

Despite the random blaster fire, Rigel craned his head out to observe the action. Most of the event attendees were either fleeing for the door or taking shelter roughly in place. Two figures stood out. One, a human female relatively close to the stage whose hand no longer held a weapon; the other, a human male firing chaotically in what appeared to be a mad scramble. The Imperial Knights assigned to the Empress' guard clearly had the woman at a disadvantage. Rigel dismissed her and focused on the man.

Who no one was trying to stop.

This struck Rigel as curious until shouts of "Protect the Empress!" and "Save her!" filtered through the din. Of course the primary concern of anyone with nerve would be ensuring Miranda's safety. As an unfortunate side-effect, the man scurrying around the room like a rabid rodent might actually get away.

A pair of guards were running past the support column to the stage. Rigel deftly tugged a holdout blaster free of the nearer guard's belt holster and brought the weapon up to firing level, scanning for a chance to use it. Though several seconds passed before Rigel found his opportunity, find it he did.

A moment's careful aim led to a pair of shots. Not far from Dashiel Starborn's location, a table supporting a grandiose chocolate fountain, gold-colored and with elaborate trim, and several tubs full of berries titled downward and pitched to the ground as as one of its legs blew out. As Dash scrambled from beneath a table, he found himself confronted by several layers of melted chocolate flying through the air.

[Jensen Par'Vizal]

It was a flaw of his, the lack of empathy that came so readily to others who could claim attunement to The Force. A certain degree of understanding was necessary to perform the practiced requirements of blending in to society, but he hadn't quite picked up on nuances that could be felt through the Force. Perhaps if he had, Jensen could have reacted faster, detected the rage that was now so clearly emanating from the blonde insurgent and prevented the death of the Empress' spouse. A lesson to learn, then, but not in the moment. In the moment, rather, Jensen had to admit that while he had joined Vissica in defending what was left of the Royal Entourage, his mind was conflicted.

The blaster fire that had suddenly interrupted the merriment and revelations of the Empress' state had been familiar. Though Jensen had not been present on the day his sister was murdered, gunned down in a chaotic firefight, screams that he had never actually heard were a haunting presence that now wanted to take their place among the cries of the Imperial Elite. It was distracting enough that one of the male terrorists' stray shots managed to catch the cadet in the shoulder, scorching through the fabric of his uniform and the flesh beneath. This too was problematic, not for the injury, which was slight, but that it threatened his calm. The Citadel had been tutoring Jensen in the ways of many aspects of bettering himself, becoming a more proficient adept - but his own ire that continually boiled under the surface was a fire that he oft struggled to contain.

The urge to rush the female who had so brazenly attacked was strong, the desire and will to utterly dismantle her pounding in his thoughts; but surprisingly, Cadet Par'Vizal's Loyalty was stronger. The edge of his vision caught sight of the chocolate fountain upending as those of military prowess began to come to their senses and attempt to apprehend the more seemingly disorderly of the two shooters. Which left him and his fellow Knight staring down the woman...

... Who seemed strangely unfazed that the Lady Vissica had dealt with her weapon. Who wasn't even attempting to flee like her counterpart. Jensen knew the look she gave them as it was one he had feared to find himself echoing before the Empire had taken him in. It was one of an individual who had nothing left to lose and cared little for what happened to themselves so long as they could simply spread their misery to others. Something told him the blaster that had been removed from her was not the only trick this incendiary had and so with barely held restraint he awaited orders, either from his Knight superior, the Baroness of Bespin, or the Empress herself.

[Dashiel Starborn]

Panic lanced through Dash, an instant of pure fear borne of the uncertainty of what was about to literally hit him. He jerked back under the curtain of a tablecloth as something splattered against the ground. For an instant, the madness of the moment made Dash think it was blood - dark and viscous - but no, it was… chocolate? Cursing to himself, Dash rolled out to the left of the stain and stole a glance towards Charlotte.

Everyone was converging on the Empress, the well-heeled and the well-armed alike. It didn’t seem to matter to her, as she charged head on into the path of a lightsaber-wielding Selonian.

A blaster bolt scorched the sleeve of Dash’s jacket and he hissed through clenched teeth at the sudden burning in his upper arm. As he tried to duck into cover, another shot came in quick succession. This time, it was his lower arm that took the hit, the muscles in his wrist spasming in pain.

“Frak. Frak, frak, frak.”

As he caught a glimpse of the well-dressed man who’d taken aim at him, Starborn whirled around, barging into a group of shrieking socialites. They lurched back away from him, creating a hole for him to bolt through as he tried to reach the edge of the hall.

[Nelaa Kyris]

Of all the people at the gala, there was really only one person that Kyris had cared to bump into. Having bumped into that person, she really couldn't find a compelling reason extend her evening any further. With her bag in one hand and heels in the other, she'd barely made it out of the building when she heard a commotion inside. Even with the architecture of the building muting the sounds inside, she instantly knew what she'd heard.

Blaster shots.

She froze for a fraction of a second, careful to maintain control as a jolt of adrenaline hit her system. Her immediate instinct to rush back inside was quickly overridden by training. Instead she moved to the shadows, finding whatever concealment she could. It was at that point when she heard footsteps pounding down the hall heading directly toward her. She crouched low and held her breath. As the man passed by her she sprang from the shadows, keeping her body low and sweeping the man's legs from underneath him. He hit the ground in a sprawling mess, sliding to a stop face down a few feet away from her. As he tried to get up, he felt a knee digging into his back, keeping him on the ground.

"Who are you?" Her question was calm but direct, and the tone of her voice made it clear that she wasn't messing around.

The man was having trouble catching his breath, fear and pain playing tug of war with his mind. "Please...don't kill me...I...I just serve drinks...I have a family...."

Kyris was busy checking him for weapons as he answered. He didn't seem to be carrying anything and his uniform certainly fit his story. She was still suspicious but lifted her knee off his back all the same. Instead she rolled him over on his back, careful to avoid any surprises he may try to spring on her as he rolled over. Instead he only rolled onto his back, his face scrunched up in pain. She knelt beside him, finishing her search. She questioned him again, this time more softly.

"Tell me what happened in there."

The waiter was wincing in pain, but had nearly caught his breath. His voice still trembled as spoke.

"They...they shot the Empress..." Kyris' eyes went wide as she felt a chill run up her spine. She managed to keep her cool, though it took all her training to do so. She helder her tongue let him continue.

"...I saw...I saw the blaster...I saw her falling down..."

"Is she dead?" Kyris' words radiated a calm that she didn't feel, and despite her training, her heart rate was beginning to rise. The waiter winced a bit and shook his head.

"I don't know...I only saw her fall."

His last sentence had fallen on completely deaf ears. Instead all Kyris could hear was another set of footsteps echoing down the hallway. As she turned she saw another man, dressed as a waiter and covered in what appeared to be blood, bounding out of the building. She stood quickly and started to give chase, stopped only by a thought that hit her right at the last moment. She turned to the waiter that she'd felled and quickly pulled him to his feet. Her eyes burned a hole into him as she spoke, letting every ounce of urgency that the situation demanded spill into her voice.

"Go back inside, it's safe now. Find Director Esalis. Tell her she's not blind. Go now, hurry!"

With that she snatched her shoes and her bag from the ground and chased the fleeing man off into the night.

[Tatiana Renkl]

There was little time to celebrate the joyful news the Empress shared about her pregnancy, given the mayhem that ensured.

Tatiana barely registered what Bismark said. From the moment shooting and screaming erupted, her attention didn't stay long on the Empress or the Tagge siblings who were by her side. Enough people would rush to them, ensuring that their leader would remain safe.

Earlier during the evening, the Moff had noticed the Empress's mother among the guests who had gathered in the front row by the time the proclamation was to take place. Even though she might have had a dire and utterly private fallout with her late mother, Tatiana knew and respected the importance of bloodline, as her deep affection and protectiveness towards her sisters was a testimony to, regardless of the "tough Renkl love" that could take place.

She didn't think twice, and opened a channel on the comlink at her wrist, encased in the decorative bracelet she wore.

"Kinslayer to Moon Fury. Deploy at South entrance. Have my speeder ready. I'll be out with a guest. ETA six minutes."

While she had left military life behind years ago, she had retained her callsign even when interacting with some of her security; and with the unfolding chaos it could come in handy rather than sort through too many higher ups and titles.

Moving through the crowd, she avoided cross fire twice. She had zeroed in on where Lise Tarkin was, and without hesitation, she reached her.

"Lady Tarkin, I'll get you out."

Taking her arm and nodding towards the opposite way from which the thick of the fighting was ranging, she identified herself.

"I'm Moff Renkl. Let's go."

She made used of the nearby pillars for as much safety as possible. While there seemed to be few terrorists, she wasn't going to let the Empress's mother be the next victim.

[Miranda Tarkin]

In the split second that Gallus had begun to speak, Miranda had sensed a sharp shift of peril that lanced through her heart. She didn't understand what it meant until Gallus' words were cut off and he was tumbling against her.

She felt the spark of recognized life extinguish immediately. What happened next was a blur of armor and weapons surrounding her peripherals, her screaming Gallus' name drowned by a lightsaber igniting against the one who had opened fired and killed her husband ... her childhood friend ...

Grief would have to wait because a fierce sense of protectiveness surged to the surface as she barked orders to the nearest guard. "Get Sanya to safety! And my mother's in the crowd and needs to be found too!"

Like hell would she lose Sanya during this nightmare and thankfully felt the familiar tug of her presence approaching closer in panic. She and her mother may not see eye to eye on a great many things, but Miranda didn't want her to due.

The guard broke away and another took their place to shield Miranda as the group backed towards the edge of the stage while dragging Gallus lifeless body.

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

She'd failed.

It had taken several seconds for that to sink in. Seconds filled with screaming, a white hot flash of a blade of energy before her that destroyed her blaster, and chaos unimagined that surrounded but did not penetrate her.

The Empress lived. Charlotte had failed.

A man lay dead. Two of the Empress' guard faced her - the large furred one who weilded a lightsaber and the redhaired youth who did not. Untold numbers of Imperial military personell were ready to strike her down. Still, she had failed.

Charlotte stared down the two who directly faced her. The one who had disarmed her with blade drawn... The weapon of a Jedi held in hands where it seemed almost blasphemous. The other... the youth? He seemed hesitant and she knew why. She was his mirror in a way, a pathway or two separated from fate. But he stood on the side of the Empire and here she was on the side of supposed Freedom, of Justice. Truly the two must have seen her as just as much as a monster and she did they...

And yet?

She didn't care. Let them know her as a monster. She hadn't come here to be a martyr, to become some saint of a failed Rebellion, or a Resistence reborn. Charlotte had wanted to destroy, to end lives, to cause pain and anguish to those who lead an Empire of corruption, to allow those within this room to feel even a speck of the agony that drove her towards all her loathing. Maybe it wasn't a total failure then. Maybe... just maybe...

Her thought turned inward and outward at the same time as her eyes left those who would oppose her, to focus on the Empress herself, her target. The Force was still a confusing tangled mess to her, an enemy as much an ally and it was time to make it as such...

She willed with everything she had for the Empress to feel. To understand. To know the suffering that Her people had caused. It was only one life's worth, but what a wretched existence that could be attributed to one such as herself.

But it wasn't herself alone. Charlotte's anguish wasn't enough, her misery, her entire loathesome experience wasn't enough.

I know you can hear me, you demon...

The plea came from within, tapping into that which she had denied, which she hated perhaps worse than the very institution she stood amongst and sought to bring down. The real Monster, the darkness that had crept within and corrupted her on a level few could imagine.

Eyes that shifted focus from the Empress to her entourage shifted in hue, slowly from blue to a tainted flame tinged edge.

You kriffing bastard, I know you are still here somewhere, I know you know me, I know you have watched and waited...

She felt the crackle at her fingertips before recognition came of what she was tapping in to.

Help me. Make them hurt. Tell them our story.

[Vega Van-Derveld]

Half a galaxy away…

“...you demon.”

Vega twisted and thrust a hand at the source of the whispering voice, pale fingertips outstretched, discoloured nails raking at… nothing? No, not nothing. The fetid gases that rose from the swamps of Taris seethed and flickered with strange lights, like storm clouds lit from within by flashes of lightning. There was something, someone, within the light. A phantasm, a ghostly figure stepping out of the shadows.

A figure, a woman with fair hair. The lightsaber on Van-Derveld’s hip sprung into the palm of his hand as his lips twisted into a sneer. He hissed through jagged, clenched teeth, and in that same breath the red blade of his saber snarled to life. It was her! Loklorien s’Ilancy. Darth Acera. The name of his former master was a ragged breath away from his lips until the image began to coalesce. It wasn’t Acera. There wasn’t a single, baleful yellow eye glaring back at him, but two blue eyes. She wasn’t looking at Vega, but through him. Not at the decrepit expanse of Taris that sprawled at his back, a bloated corpse left behind by the Galactic Empire, but at something Vega could not see.

Charlotte Tur’enne’s lips didn’t move, but her voice swirled around him like noxious smoke, the feeling of her presence somehow obscuring the real and tangible world of Taris around him, demanding all of his focus.

“...I know you know me…”

There was little of Vega Van-Derveld that had not been replaced by machinery, but what remained of his skin prickled and crawled, as if something were slithering through his veins. Alien and yet so familiar. When he breathed in, he could feel the flow of the Force between them. Charlotte’s agony, her anger, her desolation. Like a desperate parasite, burrowing beneath his flesh in search of black blood to sustain her.

Help me.

The snarl on the Sith’s lips curled by slow degrees into a horrid grin as he stalked forward. While he crossed the short distance between them, her fingertips began to twitch and tremble. She was searching for the strength to destroy whatever lay before her, for the power that he had first awakened in her. The Dark Side.

“Show them what you really are,” he said, in his hollow, mechanical voice - and smacked the blackened hilt of his lightsaber into her waiting grasp.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

In the span of seconds, what had been nothingness bloomed into form and violence in the force. Intention, purpose, and hatred roiled from Vissica's opponent. It wasn't focused on her, or the Empress, but instead cast indiscriminately for anyone to feel. It was that lack of focus and disorder which unsettled Vissica's senses. Despite the indiscriminate hatred, it appeared to pour without limit.

Then, what appeared to be a trick of her eyes placed a threat and a weapon squarely in her hands. Rationality told Vissica to disregard it, but her instincts spoke of something deeper that she couldn't readily explain. Her guarded stance deepened.

"Guard the Empress and her family with your life, comrade." She spoke to Jansen as her tail thumped testily against the ground. "Get them to safety."

[Sanya Tagge]

A hand grabbed her Sanya the shoulder.

“Baroness Tagge!”

She twisted, trying to slip free of the grasp of whoever had hold of her, but that only made them grip her upper-arm all the more tightly. Her expression contorted in a mixture of almost feral anger and fear, as she glared at the person trying to pull her in a direction that she did not want to go. Trying to stop her from going directly to Miranda and Gallus.

It was one of the Miranda’s guards.

“This way! Come with us, Baroness!”

They were trying to guide her past the familiar, formidable shape of Matatek Sel Vissica - away from the menacing red lightsaber - and towards another of the Imperial Knights. There was a matter of feet between Sanya and the Empress, Sanya and her brother, but the sudden swarm of guards made it felt like they were star systems apart.

[Bette Davis]

After the burst of blaster fire followed a dearth of sound, a jagged hole of held breath underpinned by the signature hum of lightsabers.

Bette kicked off her shoes and hiked the silver skirt of her dress up over her knees. She edged up to look over the table she and Ketterzau were sheltering behind.

"I can't see shit from here." Bette crouched behind the table and glanced the other way, toward possible escape. The socialites had scattered, crowded at the exits and completely clogging them with their panic.

[Rigel Bismarck]

The male intruder scampered off through the crowd at the door, sliding through a gap in the crowd that closed almost as quickly as it had appeared. If nothing else, Rigel could say that the slippery little loth cat was practiced at oozing through obstacles.

To catch the prey, the way would need to be emptied.

Deliberately switching over to the stun setting, Rigel fired at the people in the doorway. "TO THE SIDE!" he bellowed, infusing his voice with the full authority of his command. It took five shots and two figures slumping to the floor in mid-hallway, but the evacuees at this particular exit quickly got the message. A path cleared.

His quarry was nowhere to be seen.

Striding through the gap he'd created with steps that were half-stomp, half-stalk, Rigel plucked a comm cylinder from his breast pocket. "Palace security, alert station Zero-One-Two, Code Five emergency message. Respond."

A precise and clipped voice came on the line. "Station Zero-One-Two responding. Please provide your rank and status"

"Admiral Rigel Bismarck, clearance seven-gamma. The Empress' husband is severely injured, possibly dead. I count two active intruders: a human female and a human male, both dressed as event staff. The female is in the main hall, possibly contained but additional forces should be dispatched for crowd control and medical assistance. The male has fled the hall and is attempting escape. I am in pursuit, but have lost track of his whereabouts, so exits need to be secured until he apprehended. He may be injured in the arm - I'm not sure if I got him or not - but should be considered armed until detained."

"Thank you for your report, Admiral. We already received a preliminary report from guards on-scene and are in process of securing the palace. Further details are not available at this time."

Rigel clicked the comm off and stopped to get his bearings.

"If I wanted to blend into the crowd long enough to escape," he asked himself. "Where would I go?"