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KYBER-PUNK 22BBY Ch.28
🕑 Added 2025-10-22 00:06:40 +0000 UTC[A (Blind) Date With Politics]
— Atom —
I thought, and steel moved. Simple as.
My Mek was fully bared to me, connected through the Force and Mechu-Deru. Mechu-Deru for a Mek. Perfect.
It wasn’t just an extension of my physical form, but an extension of my form in the Force, too. I operated it as easily as I operated my flesh. I felt every myomer flex, every push and pull, and every byte of feedback data through its sensors. Linked up as I was, a simple twitch was all I needed to fly.
Repulsorlifts and jumpboosters whirred and roared, respectively. The former kept me in the air. The latter gave me the speed I needed. I blasted out of cover for a flying peek at blistering speeds.
Gauss barked twice over, whizzing magnets and sonic cracks, as the pair of Mek-scale handcannons I wielded spat hypersonic slugs at my target. Right struck true. Left glanced off armored steel.
After popping off with my Gauss handcannons, I dove back for cover. In the familiar portion of the Pacifica Combat Zone, that meant the rubble of buildings long ravaged by Night City violence.
My opponent tried to bite back with a Gauss round of his own, tracking my trajectory through the cover. It overpenned right in front of me, rockcrete exploding into gray dust, as I suddenly pulled my dive up short.
The combination of Force and steel wasn’t even fair. It made my Mek — Big Red — in a league of its own, something special, even compared to the other Meks.
Where the others were chipped into their Gen2 Meks through the new Livemetal Chrome — already a revolutionary neural connection of mind and metal living in harmony, stronger than any chrome had ever managed before — I communed with my metal demigod even more directly. It was me, and I was it.
I sat in its cockpit, and Big Red became my other half, one I hadn’t known was missing until I linked up with the Force. Mechu-Deru laid claim to the steel and made it mine. The connection was unbreakable, ‘magic’ in all but name. Even another Mechu-Deru user wouldn’t be able to usurp that, not with how synced up to the steel I was.
Like all the Gen2s, it was purpose-built with me in mind. Mine was a completely closed system, inaccessible even through Livemetal Chrome. Big Red was wholly, wholly mine.
The Force itself seemed to acknowledge my claim. It saw me and my steel, and all but nodded in approval. It watched all the work that had brought steel to life, and practically tittered at its guidance being heeded. It witnessed the fruits of its subtle and strange efforts and rejoiced as big stompy robots were made a reality.
The Force had been what set Mektons in motion, after all. It showed me the original vision that inspired the steel, and seemed excited to play around with Inspired Inventor+ through me to get there.
The interaction there — between the overarching power of the galaxy and the unique system I wielded — was… strange. The Force knew, in its usual omniscient way of things, about Inspired Inventor+, but it couldn’t interact directly. So it settled on doing so through me, seemingly fascinated to be bringing about things so novel and unique into its slice of existence.
I didn’t linger much on the thought, didn’t let it lead to an existential crisis as some might allow. The Force was the Force, a part of everything in the galaxy. And Inspired Inventor+ was mine, tantalizingly out of reach to everyone and everything else, even the Force.
Maybe that explained why the Force was so interested in me. But I wasn’t about to stress myself out over what some might consider an overreach. Not from the Force, omnipresent, omniscient, and all but omnipotent as it was. I’d leave its philosophical, quasi-religious mysteries for the Jedi to meditate over. I’d always been more of an ‘in the moment’ kind of Gonk, anyway.
‘In the moment’, I didn’t let myself linger behind the poor excuse for cover in that familiar arena, either. Big Red and I kept moving as one.
Combat instinct, enhanced by the Force, let me dodge a hail of Gauss slugs as my opponent tried for accuracy by volume of fire. The ruined building came down like a house of cards, all but disintegrating before the shattering force of hypersonic projectiles.
A blinding dust cloud flew up with its fall. Pulverised rockcrete to make any sandstorm proud. I used the cloud as an improvised smokescreen to slip away from my last known location.
But even as I rotated positions, I was popping on the comm to taunt my foe, “Not even close, Smasher. Shooting blind?”
“DON’T START, MEAT-CLONE,” Smasher growled back. “I WAS HAVING SUCH A GOOD TIME UNTIL I HEARD YOUR VOICE.”
“You do realize it’s your voice, too, right?” I deadpanned.
“BANTHA-SHIT. MY SPEAKERS ARE A HELL OF A LOT SEXIER THAN ANYTHING YOU GOT GOING ON. METAL ALWAYS WINS, MEAT.”
“Suck SCOP, Smasher.”
“NEVER AGAIN. THERE’S A GOOD FRAGGIN’ REASON THE NUTRIENT DRIP IS MY MOST VALUED CHROME.”
“… Fair. I don’t know if I’ve ever loathed anything like I loathe dry kibble.”
“JUST BE GLAD YOU’VE GOT ENOUGH REP AND CREDITS TO EAT ACTUAL FOOD THESE DAYS. I WASN’T SO LUCKY WHEN I WAS STILL MEAT.”
“Trust me, I am. If I ever go back to SCOP or kibble or — Force fucking forbid — those damned womprats in the gutter, just flatline me. It’d be a mercy.”
Smasher actually laughed at that, “DEAL, MEAT-CLONE. IF IT COMES BACK TO THAT, I’LL PUT YOU OUT OF YOUR CHUNKIN’ MISERY.”
Even as we had a practically civil chat, the action never ceased.
I leaped out from a new angle, rushing Smasher’s steel. One of my Gauss handcannons was holstered in a maglock on my steel hip. The other covered my approach, barking once, twice, thrice, and sending hypersonic slugs downrange.
The first caught Smasher right on the deflector shield. He had to respect the two slugs that followed, dipping back and away. It wasn’t enough to avoid my charge, though. I burst into his personal space with my free hand already flying forward.
Steel smashed into steel, armor against armor. I slammed my Mek’s steely fist right into his Mek’s cyclopean head. Smasher’s frame rocked back. Then it came whipping back forward as he stepped in, looking to headbutt me into next week.
I dodged the counter… mostly. Weaving to the side, his headbutt found my guarding arm instead of finding full purchase on my steel head. The impact still vibrated my whole frame. I took the recoil from the blow, wound it back around, and pushed, both in steel and the Force. Dozens of tons of steel were sent flying.
That was another boon my steel bore. An unexpected (and, according to Fay, ‘unprecedented!’) one. Linked up through Mechu-Deru, the Mek was an extension of my Forcing will. It was a steely sort of focus — metal made Forcing flesh. I could use the Force within and without, channeled all throughout steel. And best of all, it scaled.
The Force push caught Smasher in full, foot-tons of psycho-kinetic energy coming as naturally as they came in the flesh. The steel frame in front of me was moved straight off the ground and blasted backward.
On his way out, though, Smasher lashed out with an armored kick. The leg shook with Panzerfausting fury, pure physical power leveraged as a quaking rotation from his steel core. With a full steel frame, Smasher’s full-borg martial arts were even more evisceratingly effective.
My arm still raised for my push, the kick caught me in the side. Armored steel sheared. The muscles in my jaw clenched against the impact. Sheer vibrating force shoved me to my knee on one side, and I was left unable to follow up on my steel Force push.
Smasher used the impact of his Panzerfaust kick as a grounding push-off point to regain control of his Mek. He twisted himself into a firing position, facing me in mid-air.
Still flying, his shoulder-mounted, plasma-spitting blaster cannon snapped on target. As it fired twice, he masterfully used the relatively slight recoil to turn his flight into a full backflip and land on his feet with sickening steel grace.
… Nearly 50 tons of steel had no right being that smooth. Smasher, of course, found a way, though, taking to his frame like a duck to water (or a Smasher to metal…).
A pair of plasma bolts, one after the other, filled my view. For that blinking instant, they burned imprints into my steel sensors with the heat and light of a star. The Force welled within me, welled within steel. My steel hand came up to push again.
I envisioned a cone, pointed directly at the incoming plasma. A sharp bulwark of Force. The starship-grade blaster bolts splintered and split on contact. Within the deflecting cone, coherent bolts became an incoherent rain. They splashed down all around me, everywhere but their actual target. I was left kneeling in a ring of rockcrete glass in that familiar arena.
We had returned to the portion of the Pacifica Combat Zone where we’d had our first duel. Smasher wanted something of a rematch. A more ‘friendly’ one, to be fair (as much as that word applied to Smasher), but far from a meaningless spar. Our iron was still live, after all. Smasher wouldn’t accept anything less, and I was inclined to agree with him. Besides, it’d be good for our Mek-techs to get experience repairing the Gen2s in a somewhat controlled manner.
It was the first instance of Steel vs. Steel the galaxy had ever seen. Maybe the only one for a good long while. Not like I was planning on going up against enemy steel any time soon, if ever. Meks belonged to us. Not even Arasaka would throw away an advantage like steel for some petty profit. If Meks were ever proliferated, they’d be, like, Gen8s or something, and practically junk compared to the Meks we kept for ourselves.
At the edge of the arena, I knew Sasha was recording our steel ‘spar’ to release as more of her Gonk-a-ganda. Meks had become something of a phenomenon. The galaxy obviously hadn’t seen anything like them before. Nothing even close. Every scrap of information or second-long holo-vid featuring them had been going viral. I didn’t expect this ‘spar’ to be any different.
Unfortunately, Sasha’s Gonk-a-ganda wouldn’t have too much material to work with this time around. An alarm I’d set went off, interrupting my ‘spar’ with Smasher. I held up a steel hand to call time.
Smasher, the bastard, saw my call for a pause and treated it like blood in the water. Because of course, he did. Some 50 tons of steel lunged at me, just to get in the final ‘word’ of our violent conversation.
Jumpboosters flared with roaring propulsion. All that steel barreled down the track at me, where I still knelt. He aimed to, quite literally, sucker punch my steel head off for my distraction.
I reacted with the Force instinctively. Forcing steel heaved to. Once more, Smasher’s steel frame was bodily picked up and pushed. His tons of being were sent flying away, almost comedically with the way he tumbled for a moment before regaining his bearings in mid-air.
“Don’t start, Smasher,” I said, rolling my eyes to myself.
“CAN’T BLAME A SMASHER FOR TRYIN’,” He replied over the comms as if he hadn’t been blown like a ragdoll.
“Can and will, metal bastard!” I snapped back.
Smasher snorted, “DON’T HURT YOURSELF COMPLIMENTING ME SO MUCH, MEAT-CLONE.”
As I put him in his place (not that it would last…), I reached out through the Force. Sure enough, right on schedule, a pair of Force presences were approaching the now-Free Smuggler’s Moon. They’d already emerged from hyperspace and were currently making their way into orbit and farther below still.
One of the presences was about equal to me in potency. Perhaps a bit less, but certainly no one to scoff at. They seemed like the sure and satisfied, if stressed, sort. A steady rock in the Force, but not unmovable or brittle. Just solid.
The other… The other was truly, utterly, completely blinding. It outshone even Master Fay. A genuine star in the Force, with all of the gravity that came with that metaphor. Those would be the Jedi escorts to the Republic delegation that the Gonks would be hosting. And if I didn’t miss my mark, the latter of them was the Jedi’s so-called Chosen One.
They reacted to my reaching senses in the Force. The former did so with wary curiosity. The latter did so with sheer surprise and curiosity of a more insistent sort. That insistent curiosity and overwhelming potency tried, for a moment, to pin me in place and get a good look. I pushed it off with a bit of force in turn. The Force presences of Master Fay, Quinlan, and Aayla took over the Force ‘greeting’ from there.
I disengaged from the spar with Smasher. There was more than a bit of grumbling from him at our fun being ruined, but duty called. Slamming it on with him couldn’t come before actual cartel business.
I sent a comm to Sasha on the spar’s sidelines, telling her to get her ass moving, too. She wasn’t about to get out of the coming meeting. The Republic had finally come knocking in an official capacity. We needed to present a united front against them.
Flying my steel back to the Gonk HQ Complex and its proper hangar there, I used the trip back to consider how it’d come to this. And what this all meant going forward.
I half-heartedly wished I could’ve said that Sasha could be blamed for our newest guests, but this visit was probably a long time coming, with or without her. Her involvement was an afterthought, really, played out in Hyper-Comm Online DMs that she felt oh-so-smug over but wouldn’t share with me. It was thanks to those DMs, that contact with the leader of our incoming guests, that we had any warning at all.
But the mission itself from the Republic had likely been in the works for a while now. The driving force on the Republic’s side of things… Well, she seemed like the kind of personality who would decide something and do what she set out to do, even if she had to march through literal hell to do it (or right into the gaping, revolution-ridden, and unprecedentedly unpredictable maw of Hutt Space, in this case).
Really, she was the catalyst and pilot here. This ‘Padme Amidala’. The name rang a bell in my head, but not overly so with my fading out-of-context memories. I felt I could confidently say that she was important to the galaxy’s overarching narrative (or what remained of it with all I’d changed), but I couldn’t say why. I suppose it didn’t matter much when I could point to other reasons she was important, though.
Even without META considerations, Padme Amidala was a Republic Senator and a former queen. She was a major player on the stage of galactic politics. And she’d seemingly taken an interest in everything we were doing here in Hutt Space. Enough of one to put together this mission, at least, alongside a second important senator and a Jedi escort consisting of the Chosen One and another.
Again, I couldn’t say why just yet. What use did the Senator for Naboo and the Senator for Alderaan have for the happenings of Hutt Space? We were getting shit done and shifting the paradigm in ways never seen before, sure, but still, that shouldn’t have been any of their business.
The Republic had little to no claim over Hutt Space. The slugs had, unfortunately, retained their own sovereignty for millennia. The only thing that was different now was… us. The Gonks and Night City and Free Nar Shaddaa. Was that difference enough for the Republic to get off their high, Core-centric horse and visit us here in the galaxy’s gutter?
… Maybe. It was a very real possibility. We’d certainly been attracting galactic attention. The galaxy was watching everything we did out here. With so much happening, so quickly, how could anyone not? We even went out of our way to help the interest along, via Sasha’s Gonk-a-ganda, our informational campaign against the Hutts, and general freedom of detes over the hypernet.
Not to mention, pivotal visitors from the wider galaxy weren’t exactly without precedent for our movement — not with Master Fay, or Knights Quinlan and Aayla, or Dooku and his apprentice in consideration.
Mostly, it was the ‘official-ness’ of this visit that set me on edge. These weren’t mostly independent Jedi acting on their own initiative, or the future leaders of a Separatist movement that had yet to be stated outright. These were current Republic senators, and Jedi assigned to the case directly from the actual Jedi Temple — both straight from Coruscant, the undisputed center of the galaxy.
And I couldn’t say what the motivations or goals of their mission here were for certain. It had me feeling… prickly. Prickly enough to confront our official visitors head-on, instead of putting the matter off or delegating it to Gonks better suited for diplomacy.
It felt… only right to step up to the proverbial plate directly, as both the face of the Gonks and the… mayor of Night City… Breaker of Free Nar Shaddaa’s Chains, even, as some on the moon were calling me… Yeah, unfortunately, I was the one they’d be expecting to speak to.
Not that I was stubborn enough to do so alone. I’d be leaning heavily on Sasha, Gloria, Fay, and maybe even Emperor Saburo as we hosted our new guests. I knew my limitations. And pure, Core-World-style diplomacy was running right up against them.
Give me a contract to close, a slug to zero, chains to break, or even a statement to send, and I’d rock that shit. But for a meeting with senators of an outside, galaxy-spanning power with unknown goals, my usual style of ‘diplomacy’ likely wouldn’t pass muster.
My thoughts on the sitch took me back to Gonk HQ, and through dismounting my steel. An absent part of my mind tracked the incoming delegation through the Force. That casually falling star up there was a bit hard to miss…
I still had some time to prepare. But they’d make moonfall within the hour. I put out comm calls for Gloria and Fay to join me. After a moment, I called Shaitan to join us as well. Not for the threat of it, but more for the general impact of a meeting beneath 50 tons of steel. Our other full-borg was much more suited for the task of standing around not-quite-menacingly than Smasher (Force forbid…).
Sstala met me in the steel hangar, already on top of things as she always was. Organizational and secretarial help on her level was priceless. We wouldn’t have been half as successful, neither in the war nor as an organization, without her. She’d been truly wasted under Zorba.
Every single day the Gonk Cartel continued to exist, Sstala proved herself willing and absolutely able to rise to any occasion asked of her as our COO (I purposefully didn’t think about how that made me essentially a CEO, a damn corpo…). Fools would look at me as the one who changed Nar Shaddaa so drastically… They should’ve been looking at Sstala for making so much of that change possible.
I gave her an acknowledging nod, and she fell in beside me as I continued on through the halls of our HQ, now almost completely retrofitted from the residential Megabuilding it’d begun life as. This Megabuilding had been completely converted into hangar space for David’s Gonk Fleet, but we’d claimed almost all of Watson as ours, making it just one Gonk Megabuilding of many. Quick, efficient steps from Sstala kept up with my stalking strides.
“Sir,” She greeted, adjusting her glasses. She pulled of the ‘sexy secretary’ look just as well as she pulled off the ‘supremely competent’ one.
She began to brief me as we walked, “As I’m sure you’re aware, our guests from the Core are on their way down as we speak. I’ve taken the liberty of organizing quarters for them at the very top. The same suite that Count Dooku and Miss Ventress used, in fact. If our new guests even know about them, we won’t be seen as favoring either side overly much.”
“Also means I’m going to have neighbors again,” I grunted.
“I’m sure you’ll survive, sir,” Sstala remarked dryly. “Have we decided on our goals for these talks?”
I shook my head, “Still up in the air. I think it’ll depend on what their goals are.”
“Understandable, sir. I’ll keep your schedule open so you may adapt when you figure that out,” Sstala said. “What of activities?”
I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, questioning, “… Activities?”
Sstala adjusted her glasses once more, “Sir. This is a whole diplomatic event. And we are the hosts. You must understand that expectations are being laid upon us here. Especially when our guests are from the heart of the Republic.
“Almost certainly, they will be used to being wined and dined in the finest the galaxy has to offer, and otherwise entertained similarly. We must put our best foot forward and meet the Core Worlders on territory they’re familiar with.”
“We aren’t Core Worlders, though,” I pointedly reminded her.
“Would you have us act as savages and scum, sir? No better than the Hutts? No better than lesser criminals than them, even?” Sstala fired back. “We may not represent the heart of the Republic, but we are still a font of civilization and culture, if of a somewhat unorthodox sort. We now preside over the largest shadowport in the galaxy, sir. Lawless as its reputation and reality are, Free Nar Shaddaa is no backwater, and as its de facto leaders, we cannot let that impression even enter their minds.
“We boast true wealth now, both economic and cultural. Show it, sir. More importantly, show legitimacy. The Republic has given us a great boon there by recognizing and coming to us directly. So act upon it, if not as a peer state than as a state with the resources to match almost any of the Core Worlds on our own already.
“We are legitimate. We must be — by strength, momentum, and the mandate of the moon’s people. To the rest of the galaxy, however, the first look at that legitimacy begins and ends with us acting the part now.”
Instead of arguing like a stubborn gonk, I freely nodded my head, “No, you’re right. I agree. We might not be Core Worlders, but we’re still very much worth a damn. So yeah, we should act like it. Give these big shots a proper taste of Nar Shaddaa, Night City, and our Gonks.”
Sstala let a small smile show on her face as I saw sense, “Very good, sir.”
She continued, “Now, a productive start to this legitimacy will be treating this visit as the event it truly is. That means at least some level of pomp and circumstance. As well as charm, entertainment, and an itinerary worthy of their station. This is a showing, not of our most frequently displayed hard power, but of the softest sorts of power, instead.”
“Couldn’t come at a better time, too,” I mused. “We’ve got a lull in the war effort as we put Nal Hutta to siege and prepare for its inevitable storming. Guess I’m giving these politicians my full attention, then.”
The last sentence was said with in a huff, and Sstala eyed me with a fond sigh, “I’ll keep you honest there, sir, and fill the schedule with more variety than just fancy dinners. Who knows, you might even come to like playing the big, mean, violent Gonk leader of our newly founded Free Nar Shaddaa.”
I grinned a bit at that and joked, “Yeah, I’ll leave Gloria and Fay to play ‘good Gonk’ while I play the big bad.”
“You do play the role well, sir,” Sstala chuckled before considering aloud. “For today… We’ll greet them as they arrive, of course. You had plans for that already, at least, and I think they’re very workable. After that… perhaps a short tour of our core territory here in Watson, continuing into a taste of the rest of Night City, and then a bit further still for the now-Free Nar Shaddaa…?”
“Yes…” She muttered to herself, working through the detes. “It would be ideal for the guests to get a good look at the public sentiment and momentum behind us, as well as show the freedom our leadership offers. And, of course, the opportunity to flex the wealth of the Smuggler’s Moon can’t be denied, even if it won’t be the most legal of showings to their Core World sensibilities. Credits are credits, though, and trade is trade. Nar Shaddaa has those things flowing in spades. Hmm, yes…”
Recognizing her going into full planning mode, I wordlessly held out a hand. She placed a datapad into it without looking up from her thoughts or pausing at all. I spent the rest of our walk through Hangar HQ reading up on reports she’d already summarized and prepared for the rest of the cartel’s business. Mostly, they concerned our progress towards consolidating a majority hold over Nar Shaddaa in the vacuum we’d created.
According to Sstala’s reports, things were progressing well on that front. Former Hutt businesses and properties were being bought out wholesale, sometimes for single credits. Anything worth anything — holdings, value, and capital — was being seized outright. Black markets and so much surplus in warehouses and storage yards were claimed without much of a fight. The extensive and far-flung merchant fleets of Nar Shaddaa’s shipping and transportation cartels were waking up on their usual routes to new Gonk bosses. Former Hutt vassals were even coming straight to us to negotiate new arrangements.
We weren’t afraid to put our fingers in just about anything and everything the Smuggler’s Moon had to offer. The only exceptions, really, were slavery and lingering kyber-spice operations.
For the former, we were busting that despicable billion-credit industry right open. We broke every chain, set the newly freed slaves up right, and flatlined any slaver that hadn’t gotten the message that no one on Free Nar Shaddaa would profit from slaving on our watch.
For the latter… well, it was a given. Smashing the Force abomination of kyber-spice straight out of existence was one of the initial reasons I started this whole movement. I wasn’t about to change my mind on it now that we’d seen real success.
But the rest of Nar Shaddaa’s black industry and economy…? All of that was still free game for the Gonk Cartel. We weren’t law-abiding Core World citizens. No matter how much success we saw, this was still Nar Shaddaa, still all but lawless space, and we weren’t trying to change that way of life and profit, just shy of anarchy.
So smuggling? Gray corpo interests and black markets? Spice and sex and sin? Mercs and weapons, bounties and contracts and gigs? All of that still flew just fine under our new ownership. When we got down to it, we were still a cartel, after all. And the criminal way was the only way that Nar Shaddaa knew, the only way we’d accept. Going forward, Free Nar Shaddaa would be no different.
“Hmm, those shipyards around Nal Hutta…” I hummed as I read. “Make a note that those should be granted to Arasaka, Sstala. Maintain a controlling share, of course, but they have the expertise and resources to start using them immediately where we’d have to build up to anything worthwhile.”
“So noted, sir,” Sstala nodded back, still mostly distracted with planning an itinerary for our new guests.
Those shipyards would make up a significant portion of Saburo’s negotiated share of Nar Shaddaa. Maybe 6 out of his claimed 10 percentage points…? I didn’t expect him to argue with my decision there, though.
Functioning orbital shipyards were disgustingly valuable, the kind of capital that corps and governments sunk billions of credits into before even beginning to recoup their investment. And I was sure Saburo would be more than happy to have working industry like that over more varied but less valuable moonside holdings. He’d still have negotiated shares leftover to claim however he wished, anyway. Enough to buy out half a district or so, a couple billion credits worth of capital.
Reading the reports of our consolidation efforts, it really struck me just how obscenely wealthy Nar Shaddaa truly was. Largest shadowport in the galaxy, indeed. Just as Sstala said. Nar Shaddaa alone could match the entire economies of some whole Coreward Sectors. Trillions of credits flowed through the Smuggler’s Moon.
Furthermore, I knew Sstala had optimistic — but well-reasoned and researched — projections that said we’d be growing from here, not faltering. Free Nar Shaddaa under us would flourish even more than the moon did under the Hutts, especially if — when — we continued to expand. That was the benefit of new blood and hope and freedom.
Of course, that freedom came with renewed competition, too. The Hutts had been pushed entirely off-moon. But there were other significant syndicates interested in the Smuggler’s Moon. We’d been expecting those third parties to begin testing our newfound ownership soon enough. Now, Sstala’s reports showed just that.
She’d organized the data from the increasing competition for the rest of the moon neatly enough that it was simple for me to identify all our testing third parties. Some of them were barely worth noting in the competition, like the Bounty Hunters’ Guild and Smuggler’s Association. Their operations were a naturally secondary industry, and they weren’t looking to contest us so much as work with and profit off us.
Others, like the many Slaver Guilds of the galaxy, weren’t being given an ounce of chance in the running. They simply weren’t welcome here, and we made that fact abundantly clear.
The real issues rose from the criminal syndicates that operated on the galactic level. Namely, the Pyke Syndicate and the Black Suns. The former we could conceivably coexist with. They were concerned with their spice trade first and foremost, and would be even happier to sell to us than the slugs, since we didn’t have the production to match them.
The latter, though, the Black Suns… They were proving to be a problem. Like us, they kept their fingers in every aspect of criminality. And that was where we were clashing — practically everywhere — as they tried to expand into the slug-free vacuum we’d created. The competition for Free Nar Shaddaa had already turned violent against them, but more on the level of the usual gang skirmishes and firefights than anything close to our conflict with the Hutts.
Something twinged in my mind as I read the many, many reports Sstala had tied to the Black Suns. One of the Force visions I’d had showed shadowy tendrils reaching our way from the Core, lit by a black star… Perhaps the Black Suns on Nar Shaddaa were just being opportunists. But perhaps there was… more… at work there, too.
Handing the datapad back to Sstala as we reached the hangar designated for our new guests, I said, “Keep me posted on the Black Sun issue. I’ve got a sinking feeling about them.”
“As do I, sir,” Sstala admitted. “They’re being… persistent, to say the least. They don’t respect our efforts and claim here as they respected the Hutts.”
I chuckled darkly, “They’ll learn.”
“They will, sir. As you say.”
The hangar designated for our guests took up the entire top floor of the converted Hangar HQ. The only other ship that claimed a portion of the space was David’s SPECTRE, and the rest was left open for the coming arrival. Shaitan’s looming steel frame was already there, standing deceptively still as a statue. I nodded up at him, and he shifted just a bit back in acknowledgment.
The others joined us soon enough — Gloria with a confident and ready smile, Sasha grinning like a cyberkitty, and Fay radiating as much peace as she always did. Fay also brought Quinlan and Aayla along for the introduction, but I didn’t mind. It just made sense for there to be Jedi in the know to greet our new Jedi guests.
“Did Sstala set you straight, baby?” Sasha asked.
“Straight enough to take this seriously and not bitch, yeah,” I nodded. “It’s an event and a show, I get it. I’ll give it the weight it’s due.”
“An event and a show,” Gloria laughed. “That’s one way to put it. I’d call it the pinnacle of my social-running career. Look at us, neh? Talking all official-like with senators and Jedi. Who could’ve seen it coming?”
“Ahem,” Aayla pointedly cleared her throat with a smirk. “You’ve been talking to Jedi for a while now, Gloria.”
“Officially, though? You two shouldn’t be here, should you?” I pointed out. “Gloria’s right. This is… different.”
Fay shrugged, “Personally, I find that I work best outside of an ‘official’ capacity. Too many rules and protocols and traditions, and worst of all, orders to follow, otherwise. Much more can be done when you meet people as they are.”
“Agreed,” Quinlan nodded. “Though, Shadows aren’t usually a part of diplomacy like this, officially or unofficially. We tend towards more… pressing actions than just talking. I prefer things that way.”
“Same,” I grunted. “Yet, here we are.”
“Oh, Atom…” Sasha came up and cupped my face. Her ‘reassuring’ coo was ruined by the smirk on her lips. “This is just what you get for putting your handsome, handsome face out there. Responsibility, responsibility, neh? I know at least one of our guests is… very… excited to meet and speak with you directly. Heh, I don’t think she’d settle for anyone else right now…”
I fixed her with a stern look, “… You’re still hiding something.”
Sasha laughed as she pulled away with a twirl, “Maybe, maybe~! You’ll just have to find out for yourself!”
I kept staring at her. Sasha didn’t give anything away. I stared… Sasha just smirked. Like the damned cyberkitty who caught all the paydata.
“Incoming,” Fay warned placidly.
“Yeah, I can tell,” I yielded the point to Sasha, turning back to look out from the open hangar doors. “One of ‘em up there is kinda impossible to miss in the Force.”
“That’d be little Ani, yeah,” Aayla chuckled. “Maybe not so little anymore, but I’d still recognize that presence anywhere.”
“Obi-Wan, too, then,” Quinlan added. “It’ll be good to catch up with him. It’s been a while. I haven’t even gotten to tease him with his ‘Sith Slayer’ title yet.”
A ship began its final approach to the hangar at a leisurely pace. It was all gleaming silver and sleek lines. If any Nomads were watching, I suspect they’d be making a mess right about now. It might not have been their usual style, but it was certainly still Style.
“Let’s hope that’s a good omen of things to come,” I muttered.
“Hmm?” Gloria hummed.
“The ship,” I explained. “It’s chrome.”
The realization set in, and both Sasha and Gloria laughed. Really, our guests couldn’t have chosen a better ride into Night City. A chrome steed for the home of chrome.
We stood there patiently, waiting to greet them as the chrome ship landed and went through its shutdown sequence. The Jedi escorts were the first to disembark, and I did a slight double-take as I saw them.
That blindingly powerful Force presence, the ‘Chosen One’… was a young woman. I’d been expecting a young man. Why had I been expecting a young man…? My out-of-context memories gave a sort of shrug. Whatever. It was a minor thing to misremember, and it didn’t change anything.
An almost crushing wave of Force sense washed out over the hangar with the Jedi escorts, taking more of my attention than the Chosen One’s gender did. As it tried to sweep over me, I stood strong and pushed back. That got her attention, and she zeroed in on me with the same insistent curiosity that I’d felt from her in orbit.
She stared. I glared. It wasn’t an all-out glare — no need to antagonize our guests so quickly — but it was enough to say ‘Watch it’. In the Force, she shot back a sense of ‘Or what?’. Snorting a laugh — I was already taking a liking to her spunk — I retorted with a Force flick to her forehead. Across the hangar, the Chosen One squawked.
The other Force greetings went much more agreeably than mine and the Chosen One’s. Her Master watched on with a sort of bewildered yet tolerant amusement, but mostly spared his attention for his peers. In the Force, he and Quinlan greeted each other like childhood friends. They probably were. Then, he turned to Fay, and sheer awe overtook his presence. Which… yeah, fair. Fay was just like that.
Our senator guests followed shortly after their Jedi escorts, coming down the ship’s ramp to join them on the hangar floor. The first was a slightly older man — mid-30s at most — of the tall, dark, and handsome sort. I could easily see why he was the Republic’s Senator for Alderaan, and, according to Gloria's research, also married to their queen. Charming, confident, and competent — the man had a rep, even if it wasn’t the sort Night City was used to, and he looked every inch of it.
The last to disembark (and driving personality behind this whole mission) was a dignified young woman, a few years older than me. She was classy. She was beautiful. She was… glaring at me, for some reason.
It wasn’t a glare of anger or hatred, though. Nor was it one of pure passion or sexual tension. It was more just… intense, like I was the only thing on her mind in that moment and had been for a while before, too. There was a spark there as I met her eyes. A spark of what, though, I wasn’t entirely sure…
Having a noble beauty, draped in silk and class, glaring at me like that was… unique. A new experience for me. An interesting one, too. Very interesting... This better not awaken anything in me. Or maybe it should, after all. Could be... interesting.
I didn’t match her glare for glare, instead raising a silent and imperious brow in an expression I’d shamelessly stolen from Dooku. That hard-to-place spark in her eyes flared at that, but she collected herself quickly, striding forward with her head held high.
Sasha nudged me to speak with an unsubtle elbow. I could feel her smirk in the air, even without looking. I didn’t acknowledge her prodding, but did greet our guests.
“Welcome to Night City, to Free Nar Shaddaa.”
It wasn’t a rude greeting. But it was certainly blunt. I’d play my part in this event, but I wasn’t about to get all flowery with a greeting.
“Thank you for hosting us. I am Padme Amidala, the Republic’s Senator for the Chommell Sector.” Padme’s bright and friendly smile didn’t quite disrupt the intense spark still in her eyes. “My partner for this mission is Bail Prestor Organa, Senator for Alderaan. Our Jedi escorts are Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his Padawan, Ani Skywalker — both old friends of mine. We look forward to making this mission a productive one.”
“Atom. Head Gonk. Mayor of Night City. Just call me Atom,” I chopped out.
“And I’m Sasha! So good to finally meet you in person, choom!” Sasha chimed. “We’ve also got Gloria here, our Mom-Gonk, and Sstala hanging back there! She’s the one who keeps everything running smooth and all, neh? Oh, and Shaitan! Can’t forget our strong, silent full-borg!”
Shaitan’s massive steel frame took a single step forward to make himself known. As one, our guests turned to stare up at him with wide eyes.
“Woah! Wizard…” Ani gasped.
“Oh my. We’d seen the ‘Mektons’ but they’re something else entirely in person, aren’t they?” Obi-Wan exhaled.
“That… is certainly one of the honor guards of all time,” Bail said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”
His charming smile never broke, even under Shaitan’s steel shadow. I mentally bumped my impression of him up a few notches.
“A pleasure, indeed. And Quinlan? Knight Aayla?” Obi-Wan smoothly shifted the conversation. “I wasn’t expecting to meet you here. It’s a pleasant surprise. Along with… She is who I think she is, yes?”
Quinlan nodded, “She is.”
Fay stepped forward with a smile, a polite bow, and shining light in the Force, “Greetings. I am Fay. A Jedi Master, I suppose, but it’s been a long, long time since I visited the Temple. I’d thought the Order had forgotten me, and was rather content with that assumption. Now, having met the Order’s current generation… I can see that isn’t the case, perplexing as I may find young Quinlan and Aayla’s veneration of me.”
Obi-Wan let out a surprised laugh, “Ha! Oh, no, the Order certainly hasn’t forgotten about you, Master. I think we all heard stories — almost legends — of your deeds as younglings.”
“Yes, that troublesome junior of mine has risen to a high enough position to keep my name very much alive,” Fay sighed, half fondly, half exasperatedly. “Touching as it is to be remembered, that is not why I do all I do. I follow the Force, over all things, even the Order.
“Now, it has called me into this… unique situation on Free Nar Shaddaa, and as always, I have answered. Our catalyst here is a very special soul, with a very special weight in the Force. For the immediate future, I’ve sworn myself to guide, advise, and aid him in living up to his open destiny.”
“Master Fay? Truly?” Bail blinked. “Sworn, hmm…”
He turned to me with the last muttered word. Like my impression of him, I could see his impression of me being adjusted now that we’d met face to face.
“Is… investing yourself so closely in such controversial happenings the best course of action, Master…?” Obi-Wan cautiously asked.
Fay just smiled, unwavering in her commitment, “As the Force Wills, young Knight.”
“You can’t have her back,” I grunted. “The Order has its own nigh-immortal Jedi Master already, so I’m claiming this one. My Force elf is better than your Force gremlin, anyway.”
Fay blushed and looked away, “Oh my… ”
Obi-Wan looked like he didn’t know how to react to that statement, but Ani was visibly trying to stifle her laughter. Bail looked equal parts bemused and begrudgingly amused, and Padme was still staring at me with that intense spark in her eyes.
Knowing I had Gloria, Sasha, and Fay to approach these talks with a softer touch, I decided that a blunt approach to diplomacy would suit me best.
“So, introductions aside,” I said, a piercing stare directed at Padme in particular. “What’s the actual point of all this?”
My side of talks just collectively rolled their eyes, probably expecting something like this from me. The other side stiffened slightly, caught off-balance. Except for Padme. She didn’t back down from my bluntness. If anything, the intensity about her only grew.
She began softly, her voice still heavy with gravitas, “We are here to put a stop to the terrible, terrible, terrible violence that has enveloped this part of our shared galaxy. We are people, no? All sentient, all worth the lives we’ve been given. There must be a way for us, everyone in the galaxy, to exist in peace.”
She stared at me expectantly. Challengingly. Like she was ready for me to scoff or rage or even laugh in her face.
I just nodded, “Cool. Pretty preem idea. A future worth striving for, even. Unfortunately, some of us live in reality. In the present. Nah, worse, we live in Hutt Space… So all I can really do is wish you luck, Senator.”
“We must always try,” Padme stressed. And honestly, I respected the fire in her eyes, her passion for peace. But…
“You’ve never met a Hutt, have you?”
“Well-um-… no, I’ll admit I haven’t, but surely-…”
“Come with me. I think you need to see exactly what we’re fighting. And thus, all we’re fighting for.”
IIIII
Bonus Pics (sauce below)
Comments
Marius Rex
Lmao, that would a great sight to see
Y. B. A.
Oh God. Padme is this fic's Fleur, isn't she? I love her already lmao.
AFlyOnTheWall
Thanks for the Chapter
