WIP Wednesday: FtRP Chapter 41

[inqorporeal]

Reformation Year 980.07.26

Zygerria

 

 

“That is not acceptable.”

 

“It will have to be. We have suffered extensive losses and repeated project failures due to rampant piracy. You will either extend our remuneration period, or you will not receive any credits at all.” The Neimoidian wasn’t trying too hard to look apologetic, though: the smile had a bit too much curl and he wasn’t hunching in obeisance the way his people did when they truly respected the person they were speaking to. 

 

Atai Molec snarled at the holoprojector. “Your inability to deal with your troubles in Karthakk are not my problem. If your forces are unable to exterminate a few pirates, perhaps I should contact Viceroy Gunray and renegotiate our terms.” And now he would actually be able to carry through on the threat, with his recent promotion. Molec tugged lightly on the end of his sash, making the new insignia at his shoulder catch the light. “I’m certain the Viceroy would be more than happy to let you know how much your problem it is.”

 

The Neimoidian got the hint. “Now, ah, Guildmaster, surely it is beneath us to trouble the Viceroy with such… paltry matters? Perhaps we can come to some mutually beneficial agreement.”

 

“We can.” Molec offered a smile that held no real feeling. “However, until the Trade Federation -- I’m sorry, the Karthakk Development Group -- can catch up on its payments, we cannot justify risking another shipment. These pirate attacks are simply too great a risk. I’m sure you understand.”

 

 The Trade Federation flunky twitched so hard his overly elaborate hat slipped. “Perfectly, Guildmaster. It, ah, may take some time, while we deal with these ‘Lok Revenants,’ but the next payment might be sent by the end of the month?”

 

“Acceptable.” He leaned forward. “Please do let me know if there are any other… unforeseen complications?”

 

“Of course, Guildmaster.” 

 

The Neimoidian bowed and cut the transmission. Molec leaned back in his chair, glowering at the holoterminal. The man who had remained seated just beyond capture range for the duration of the call chuckled.

 

“They are so funny when you pull rank on them.”

 

“It’s the only thing they respect,” Molec growled.

 

“I knew promoting you was a good idea. Kyrus never could carry the mantle well enough, and he’s cost us a great deal of money.” Consort Norreka Vadrass stood and tugged the hem of his uniform jacket, still smiling. “Of course, if it turns out you can’t handle our dealings with those toads, we may need to reconsider. ”

 

The newest Zygerrian Slavers Guildmaster glared from under his brows, refusing to rise despite Vadrass’ rank. This was his office now, dammit! “Remember that favour I did for you all those years ago, Vadrass. It would be a shame for the true fate of your daughter to reach the public ear.”

 

Vadrass’ smile didn’t waver. “We could hardly forget. And that’s why you’ve earned the favour of a warning, Atai. But I’m sure you can handle it.” 

 

Molec watched him leave, stroking his chin-spikes thoughtfully. Vadrass could certainly afford to have him disposed of quietly; the fact that the man and his wife, Princess Dasyre, had left Molec alive meant they viewed him as useful. And if there was one thing Molec was not, it was being so foolish as to bite the hand of his benefactor.

 

At least, not before he had gained the ability to best them in their own political games. 

 

Speaking of such…. 

 

Molec keyed in a new comm code. It was answered quickly.

 

“Guildmaster?”

 

“Warun. I want you to arrange for an example to be made.”

 

His second in command hesitated. “Of anyone in particular?”

 

“Janus Greejatus.” He appended a file and waited for Warun to skim it.

 

“Sir, are you certain--?”

 

“This deal with the Trade Federation is costing us more than money. We cannot touch this 'Lord’ Sidious, but we can make an example of his messenger who recommended the deal to my predecessor. Let him and the Neimoidians know that things will be handled very differently from now on.”

 

“Sir, Greejatus is also an advisor to Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. The Republic might consider it an act of war.”

 

Molec rolled his eyes. He was well aware the cringing human was a double agent, and a clever one. “Then you had best ensure that we aren't connected, hadn't you?”

 

Warun muttered something in agreement and closed the connection. Molec stood and crossed to the window overlooking the market. The Slavers’ Guild had long operated in the dark, the Zygerrian Empire providing a pleasant face to the Republic representatives while the Guild processing facility had been moved to Kadavo. With the rise of the Separatist movement, the Empire had never been more prosperous, and Molec would ensure the trend continued. He had higher aspirations, and some miserable human pretending to higher status wasn’t going to usurp them.