Congress of Rogues

[Vocari Alexander]

“Never put all your eggs in one basket” was a cardinal rule among smugglers, and indeed, for any walk of life. Thus, the parameters for the Congress of Rogues ran sour in the mouths of many invitees. Each faction was allowed to enter the system in one ship, no larger than a frigate, and to reach the venue, a space station outsystem of Tatooine, in an unarmed shuttle. The actual delegation was limited to no more than six individuals, including the captain. Each member was limited further by the amount of baggage they could carry. Weapons were checked and restricted to one apiece, and luggage was carefully screened. All these precautions did make sense; they were dealing with pirates, after all. But Vocari still felt uneasy about moving into a situation with such attenuated defenses. It was putting all his eggs in one basket, so to speak.

Of course, Vocari Alexander was never one to sit by and let others dictate his actions. True, the Archon Ascendant was the only member of the Chancery Battalion to revert near the location. Yes, only six of them traveled in the shuttle to the station where the meeting was being held. And sure enough, they were forced to give up most of their weapons at the front. But he’d made contingency plans. Two Carrack-class cruisers, a Nebulon-B frigate, their accompanying starfighters, and three freighters were stationed just outsystem, ready to microjump in if anything went wrong. Vocari had opted to leave Daniel behind on the Ascendant to manage things, and to assume full command if anything happened to him. His delegation included three soldiers, an aide, and a hacker. And though their weapons had been confiscated, there was no rule against body armor, or equipment. Besides, any pirate worth his or her salt could manage to smuggle some restricted items past the screeners.

Things were still dangerous. But then, any situation involving pirates was bound to be volatile and threatening. But Vocari wasn’t too worried. He was friends with a lot of the beings who were going to be there, and he’d made all the preparations he could. Besides, he was intrigued by the meeting. The galactic underworld held few gatherings such as this. Whatever was going to happen, it would be big.

“The delegation from the Chancery Battalion is good to go,” said the Aqualish at the desk. “Your quarters are in Seaward Quadrant, Sector Three. Here is a program of events. The first gathering will occur tomorrow at 1200 Galactic Standard.”

“Thanks,” said Vocari, and motioned his party over. “Daedalus, Morgan, Zuko, take the luggage to our quarters and settle them. Then spread out. Feel free to socialize, and keep an ear out for anything interesting. Archimond, Gallade, you’re with me.” Two of the soldiers and the hacker divided the bags among themselves and began making their way to the designated area. Vocari, meanwhile, plunged into the crowd, searching for a familiar face. “Stow that blaster rifle,” he whispered to Gallade. “We don’t want to turn heads at the moment.”

A Twi’lek female accosted him. “Vocari!”

“Siera,” said Vocari warmly. “It’s good to see you.” They embraced. “I was sorry to hear about your sister’s death when Nar Shaddaa fell,” he continued.
Siera frowned, “Yes. Thank you. Same to you. I know the Smuggler’s Moon was your home. You must have felt bad.”

Vocari grinned and shrugged. “I did, even though the moon was a cesspool. There was so much life there. So much going on. It was critical to our way of life, and now…”

She nodded gravely. “Yes. Everybody lost something that day.” She smiled, “But life goes on, no? We are all here, still alive, and ready to fight another day, right?” Her face grew feral. “After all the trouble the Vong have caused the galaxy, I am ready to give them back a taste of their own medicine. Hopefully, we can achieve a resolution here.”

“I hope so too. I know people are already prepared to fight. I was at Duro during the fall, and…” After a few minutes of chatting and catching up, Vocari and Siera parted ways, and went to find other conversations. As he walked, listening to the chatter and raunchy pirate laughter in the room, Vocari smiled. However ephemeral this may be, he was home.

[Ixtren Wallonis]

Creptin was taking no chances on this trip. He had already been defeated once by that bumbling fool Gungan Bombosa and his assassin droid. Afterwards he'd made a blood oath never to be so under prepared again. And Dashade Shadow Killers did not take their blood oaths lightly.

Of course Ixtren was forced to arrive in system, just like all the others, in nothing larger than a frigate. Jasmine Yasareal, Captain of the Starbanger had been his lucky pick. Her refitted Alderaanian War Frigate was the scourge of the Tion Cluster. As one of the most predominate pirates of the area, and most likely the prettiest, they'd named her the 'Hapan Spider' due to her good looks and the large spider tattoos across her body, plus the 'pet' she carried with her at all times.

Stepping off the shuttle into the space station, Ixtren had to laugh. Her little spider was riding on her shoulder, two fuzzy arms raised up like a kid holding his hands up to the wind.

Crazy little critter.

Of course Ixtren had Max with him, his dark tiger striped colored tree leopard from Mrykr. He too was riding on top his shoulder. If it wasn't for Creptin hovering behind him and the hand picked security detail the Dashade picked out, Ixtren would have felt a little vulnerable. The restrictions on the meeting were very clear: One weapon per individual, six people per delegation.

Ixtren's power squad included him, Captain Yasareal, Creptin, Captain Eexis, and two Gank killers.

"Creptin?" Ixtren called his over eager bodyguard forward as their feet clanked against the metal decking. "Are you sure these Ganks are alright?"

Creptin's face was emotionless, his eyes constantly shifting across the room in constant search for threats. "Yes sir. I've worked with the Morgley brothers before."

Ixtren showed a little bit of distress. "I know that Creptin, but they're mercs. How can you be sure they just won't switch to the highest bidder?"

"Because I bought them sir."

"Bought them?"

"Yes sir. Technically I own them. The Hutts sell Gank killers at a steep price, but I had a few old debts I called in on."

Ixtren stopped in silence. "You own them?" He looked into the Dashade's blank face. Ixtren just shook his head in dismay. "Creptin, you are one of a kind. A real ace of staves."

"Look who's talking Ixtry. How many people do you see wearing pink Mandalorian armor?" Captain Yasareal smiled in real delight. She still couldn't believe the old Pirate lord was really wearing that armor. He looked like a candy coated Gizka.

"It's beskar." Ixtren said with pride. "And it takes a real man to wear pink."

"More like a real Mando." She snickered. "I've heard some strange things about those Mando boys. They've been out in the field too long. Can't remember what a woman looks like."

"Well if all Mando women looked like you, Jasmine, I'm sure the Mandies would have to think twice before shacking up with each other."

The Aqualish at the check-in desk held them in a blank stare, ignoring their comments about Mandalorians. "Welcome to the congression, gentlebeings. Please allow the security team to perform their checks so you can be cleared for entry."

"No problem." Ixtren waved them toward his group. "Check away."

The congressional security team was a burly group of Nikto lead by a wiry looking Rodian with foggy eyes. While the Nikto screened his party with hand scanners, the Rodian interrogated him.

"How many weapons?"

"One."

"Let me see it." The Rodian demanded in his nasally voice.

Ixtren pulled out his blaster. The Rodian glanced at it quickly. He looked over to one of the Nikto who bobbed his head.

"You're clear. Next!"

Jasmine walked up. "One weapon, just a blaster." She held the weapon passively on her palm.

"Good, and you?" The Rodian looked at Eexis questioningly.

"Just a blaster as well."

"Good good. Move along." Next was the Ganks. "Gank killers?" The Rodian looked scared and shocked. He whipped around toward the Aqualish. "We're not letting their kind in, are we?"

The Aqualish glanced at his terminal screen. "The regulations specifically state one weapon per individual and six individuals per party. No restrictions are given for what type of individual. You will have to let them pass."

The Rodian sighed. "Very well, but I don't want any trouble from you two. None. Zip." He eyed their blaster rifles with hesitation, but let them go. "And you are...what is THAT!"

Creptin replied dead tone, "A rocket rifle."

"A ROCKET RIFLE!" The Rodian screamed. "You can't be serious! You think you're going to get past our security scans with a rocket rifle?"

"The rules said one weapon. They didn't specify what kind."

"Don't give me that! That is a highly illegal weapon, and well beyond the sensibility of self-defense." The Rodian muttered, "One weapon. you think we'd let somebody in here with a missile launcher?"

Creptin looked passed the security gate and spotted a man with a rocket pack. "What about him?"

The Rodian spun around. "What?"

"The guy with the rocket pack." Creptin pointed him out.

"That's different...that's...that's..." He realized he was at a lack of words. He turned around and looked at Creptin. The Dashade's lamprey face was cold and ugly. A dark, leathery look with deep set, black eyes. "What kind of ammunition?"

"Stun rounds." Creptin lied.

The Rodian grumbled. "All right. They're all clear. Let them through. Even rocket man."

The Aqualish flashed an awful imitation of a smile. "Your quarters will be in the Seaward Quadrant, Sector Two." He handed over a pamphlet with his webbed paw. "Here is a program of events. As you can see, the first gathering will occur tomorrow at 1200 Galactic Standard. Enjoy your stay.”

"We will." Ixtren smiled and nodded his head. "Come on gang, let's check out the quarters. I'm sure Creptin will want to sanistream it for bugs and traps."

Jasmine looked hard at Creptin. "You leave Tibbs alone." She lovingly stroked her pet Eberon spider with adoring affection.

They all laughed, Ixtren loudest of all. "Yeah Creptin, you better leave Mr. Tibbs alone or you might wake up tomorrow without your manhood."

Creptin seemed to contemplate the thought with some serious consideration.

Laughing as they went, they made their way through the halls toward the Seaward Quadrant.

[Eron Nightwind]

Eron and his small contingent arrived in one of the unarmed shuttles they had acquired and retrofitted. His crew had tried to talk him out of it, cause he had a bit of a reputation, and many of the groups that could be attending were not too keen on Eron. But that was in the past. The future would be a far different matter.

The party consisted of Eron and his lieutenant, Jonah Ferulli, and their top two guards Evo and Tara Shen. The guards were twins, trained their entire lives in armed and unarmed combat by mercs and assassins from across the galaxy. From the nose down, their identities were concealed by a carbon fiber mask. As they entered and were greeted, they were found to have no weapons on them. They were given their quarters and the itinerary for the meetings. After settling in, Eron and the twins went down to the reception hall to scope out some of the participants.

Moving through the crowd, Eron gave a nod to those he knew, and introduced himself to those he didn’t. He mentioned nothing of his new venture, just a recap of what he had been up to in the last few months, or of his participation in known ventures. Other than that, he kept to the outskirts. Even with protection, no use tempting fate that one of his old friends might try to take him out.

Denar Pulianar found him through the crowd. It had been a while since the events in the Graveyard, and Eron was sure Denar had put the past behind them. “Denar, my good man. How’s the bar holding up?”

Denar smiled warmly and shook his hand. “Running just fine, even got a new partner.” He motioned to someone in the crowd, and the color drained from Eron’s face as a beautiful woman strolled over.

“Good to see you again Mr. Nightwind. You look different, guess I am not use to seeing you vertical, or clothed.” The woman was Renna Kell, the same woman he and Denar had a bit of a fight over a few years back. The same fight that made Eron’s leg ache at the thought of it.

“G..good to see you too Renna.” Eron stuttered. “You two patched things up? Good for you. Forgive and forget, that’s what I always say, at least to you.”

“Relax Eron, things are much better between us, and the bar has never been more profitable. I must say, I am surprised to see you here. I never thought this would be your kind of thing.” Denar said, trying to help his friend past his nervousness.

“Times change old buddy. When something like this comes along, even rouges like me poke my head out and see who’s shooting.”

[Azel Kelkko]

"She's clear." The Rodian whined with his snout.

The Aqualish attendant at the desk was much friendlier. "Madame, please enjoy yourself and do not hesitate to call if you need any assistance," He slid a piece of flimsi with his personal comm number scrawled on it, "Your quarters are in the Gallant Quadrant, Sector One, the finest rooms we have available. You can refer to the program of events for details on the congression, and the first gathering will be tomorrow at 1200 Galactic Standard. Do you have any questions or require any assistance, Senator?"

Azel shook her head no while maintaining a charming grin. "No, that won't be necessary, but I appreciate the offer. And thank you."

"Anytime senator, anytime."

Azel breezed past the attendant and floated into the entryway of the station. A hallway of turbolifts went to the various areas, while the main hallway lead directly to the primary lounge.

She set down her one bag, a very light weight piece of luggage, and briefly flicked her eyes over the lifts. The first one on the left was labeled 'Gallant Quadrant - Sectors 1-4, 8-9.' Picking up her bag, she hit the lift button and was on her way. The hallway leading to her room was lined with plush carpeting and fancy tapestries, separated by wide viewports with splendid views of space. It was all rather sophisticated for an Outer Rim space station. No doubt some getaway for rich Hutt gangsters and Black Sun vigos.

Azel let out a sigh as she through her bag on her bed and looked at the luxuries of her room.

What am I doing here?

"Trying to make a difference."

Again she sighed. [i]Well I'm not going to make much of a difference sitting in my room.

She stood up from the bed, adjusted her bright red, shimmersilk dress, and decided to head off to the main lounge in hopes of mingling with some of the 'rogues.' Maybe there was hope among these vagabonds yet.

[Vocari Alexander]

“You don’t understand,” said a Twi’lek wearing some kind of admiral’s uniform from the center of the room. Vocari turned his attention to the being the Twi’lek was sneering at, a human male seated in one of the amphitheater-like seats positioned around the center. “The concept of resistance is all very lovely and idealistic. I would be pursuing that route myself if I could. But my entire operation is based around Toydaria. Infrastructure, contacts, hangars—everything is there, and we are finding it increasingly more difficult to maintain our operations now that the Vong have conquered the space around us. Under the circumstances, I find it practically impossible to not change my allegiance in order to survive, even if it does entail fighting alongside the Peace Brigade.” A cold frown creased his face. “Frankly, I find it rude that myself and the others like me are lambasted, nay, demonized, for switching sides. There is no choice for us. None at all. We either choose to submit or face a certain annihilation. So unless everybody is willing to come to our aid-” he glared around the room, “do not throw your noble words around.”

Vocari depressed the button in front of him. A light at the front of his podium engaged, and several eyes turned to him. “The floor recognizes Vocari Alexander of the Chancery Battalion,” said the moderator.

Vocari stood, immaculate in a crisp uniform. “I would like to deliver a partial rebuttal to what Kelior just said, but I also feel as though there are certain salient elements in his speech we need to consider.” He paused, glancing quickly at Kelior as he took a breath. The Twi’lek’s expression had changed from anger to rage back down to a bewildered interest in a matter of moments. Vocari cracked a smile before continuing.

“Now, I don’t know about any of you, but I feel like the safety of the galaxy overrides any consideration that we might have. Yes, that’s subjective. But think about it,” he said. “The Yuuzhan Vong are unlike anything we’ve ever seen before. Their technology and culture are completely alien. And they hate us. They hate us so much that they are willing to murder trillions and subjugate the rest. They’ve conquered more of the galaxy by force than any other race this place has seen. They just conquered Duro two months ago. A Core World! Who knows what is going to follow? You want to call these scare tactics? You’d be absolutely right,” he said. “We should be scared.”

“This is the kind of situation in which I feel we should put our differences aside and fight. The proper response when faced with an insurmountable foe is not to run and hide, but to go down fighting. If we are to die, why not make our deaths useful?”

“So we should fight. That being said, Kelior has a point. I’ve been to his facilities. Let me tell you, they are beautiful. But architecture and design aside, I know that Kelior is as hampered as he says he is by his operation. And I also know how tied he is to the surface because of it, and how much he’s invested in his ventures. I’m one of the luckier ones in that I have a fleet. I can present a much more flexible defense than he can, and more importantly, run away if I am overwhelmed. So I think that any official course of action we decide on here has to account for our brothers and sisters who maybe can’t defend themselves as easily as the rest of us can. Maybe pirates aren’t supposed to look out for each other. Usually, that’s true. But if we’ve come together, that obviously means we’re looking for guidance beyond ourselves. If you decided to join this meeting, you’re interested in helping others. How do we do that? I don’t know. Hopefully, that is something which will come out as everybody presents their own viewpoints. But I’m going to declare right now; I intend to fight.”

[Ixtren Wallonis]

There was a murmur and some cheers of support after Vocari's remarks, as well as a few jeers and some deadly quiet faces of dissent. Ixtren rose his weary bones from his seat and hit the intercom button in his convenient little podium dais.

The event's moderator, a three armed human, possibly a mutant, acknowledged Ixtren. "Ixtren, you have the floor."

Ixtren hid a smile at the frank acknowledgment. With almost a hundred years of pirating under his belt, there wasn't anyone in the room who wasn't familiar with him and his exploits. He was a legend in their circles, and a role model to some. But he was also old, and many of the new crop cared little for an old man's words. He knew he would have to tread carefully if he wanted to capture their attention as well.

Ixtren's weathered voice sang true through the quiet of the room as everyone listened to what he had to say. "Vocari raises a good point, and the fact of the matter is that not all of us are as stupid as Kelior." A warm smiled cooled the bite the statement might have carried and a hearty laugh flowed around the room. "But let's face it, we are pirates, or criminals of one kind or another. We're not soldiers. We've trained ourselves to steal, not fight. It makes us ill suited for this kind of military work. Why, there's no reason in anyone's right mind why pirates and the like should have to do the job of the New Republic's Navy." A stirring of approvals reverberated around the chamber.

Blurry eyes scanned that crowd. Ixtren saw a few old pirates, but not many. Most of these men were in their prime, late twenties, early thirties. Even still, he knew quite a few of them, good or bad. He saw a human off to the right with vivid red dyed hair pulled back in a long ponytail, offset by a blue uniform decorated with silver trim. "Bin Ziz, you've flown this galaxy for eight years now. How often have you tangled with New Republic warships?"

The red haired man stood up with a smile, "Too many times to count!"

Ixtren nodded. "And still you're alive to tell of it!" There were some cheers of approval, men spurred to boast. "Because if there's one thing we are good at, it's hit and run." The stirrings in the room settled down as the realized where Ixtren was going. "And no one in this room can say I don't know a thing or two about the Peace Brigade...or the Vong for that matter."

It had become common knowledge among the pirate circles that old Ixtry had joined the Peace Brigade early on in the war. Many pirates had followed his example. And of all the collaborators, few had had as much contact with the Vong as Ixtren.

"So let me tell you a thing or two about our extra-galactic brethren." He swept his gaze around to ensure he had their full attention. "They've come here to take control of the galaxy and make it their own. They have technology that can 'reshape worlds,' destroying all the machines, and replacing it with strange plants and animals. They want to make this their Eden, their Shangri la. A place free of machines."

He paused, letting the quiet hang over the room, preparing for his main parry. "As for us, they will make us slaves. The people they've fought before and conquered were honored with two fates: death or enslavement. Look at the Chazrach, the reptoid warriors that fight with the Vong. The Vong honored them by brainwashing and breeding them as mindless slaves to do their bidding. That is what they will do to us when this over. And if we don't stop them, it will happen. Their Shapers will see to it."

Ixtren sat down. It was a good start to the argument, but it would be a long way before it was settled. He wasn't done talking yet, but he knew he needed to let other voices be heard.

Jasmine patted him on the shoulder as he slipped back into his seat. "Good job Ixtry. I couldn't have put it better."

Now the room was a mix of conversation both for and against Ixtren's words and the moderator was struggling to quiet the crowd down.

[Eron Nightwind]

Eron listened to the speakers one by one, each stating their case either for or against the initial proposal of joining the fight against the Vong. All made valid points, from their point of view. The one thing everyone could agree on was that the Vong were not going to go away. They would continue to throw their resources at the Republic until one of them was gone.

As pirates, smugglers, rouges and mercenaries, this could mean many things. For the delusional, it meant that they could gather quite a fortune while the war raged on, protecting those who paid the most, running weapons and supplies and refugees as well was also lucrative.

The big picture was a bit more fuzzy. The war was not going the way of long term prosperity. The Vong gathered more and more systems each passing month. The Republic was holding, but not gaining or reclaiming any of the lost planets. Something had to be done to turn the tide of the war, or all the credits in the galaxy would not buy a place to hide.

He knew which side he would support. Leaning over to Jonah, Eron motioned to Vocari.

"We are in. I'm going to talk with Mr. Alexander, let him know he has our support. Leave me one of the twins, you make your way around, see what you can find out about those who have yet to speak. We need to know who's in."

Nodding, Jonah took Evo and began to make the rounds. Eron stood, and Tara followed as he made his way over to the table of the Chancery Battalion.

His approach was noted quickly, and he was stopped a good distance from Vocari.

"I appreciate the security, but if we are all going to work together, I think a little more trust might be in order." Eron said with a smile as he patiently waited.

[Azel Kelkko]

Azel sat in quiet silence as all those in the room argued and yelled with each other. The longer it went on, the worse it got for some of them. She had patiently listened to the ones who had spoke, the one's who had inspired this spirited discussion.

It seemed pirates and smugglers liked to conduct there meetings with that bar room feel.

Azel sighed. Men.

Of course not all the pirates were men. There were some women present. And even some of them were yelling with the best of them. The helpless officiator had sat down in pure surrender, waiting for the chaos to come to it's own end.

But the question was whether it would end with the majority of the pirates for or against the idea of action? Would they actually form an alliance against the Vong?

As of the moment, the people who truly caught her eye were the quiet ones. She noticed a small group of individuals crowded around Alexander Vocari, all deep in discussion. And there was another group around the pirate Ixtren Wallonis. They both seemed to represent the primary forces in favor of an alliance. Yet elsewhere was another group forming around a Duro.

Through the meeting, the Duro had been very quiet, never seeking to take the floor. The fact that the man was an active Peace Brigader was common knowledge. He was also a kingpin in the slave trade and a former pirate and smuggler.

Thus the large grouping of people around him was rather disquieting. The apposition was a sizable force.

Carrying her glance away from them, she caught Ixtren's eye. The old man smiled at her and gave a wink. She couldn't help but return the gesture.

A feisty old man. I shall have to give him my proposition.

[Vocari Alexander]

Vocari was gauging the crowd as speaker after speaker took the floor, and he wasn’t liking what he was seeing. There seemed to be about as many people against an aggressive course of action against the Vong as there were for one. There were influential pirates on both sides. Ixtren Wallonis in particular had made a strong case for taking a stand, and both his first-hand experience as a former Peace Brigadier and his rather prodigious personal stature added significant credibility to the argument for an active defense.

Soon after Ixtren, the meeting had degenerated. The lack of weapons was barely noticed as the various factions slung venom at each other, as much about existing squabbles with one another as relating to the matter at hand. The moderators had given up trying to quiet the crowd, hoping that the expulsion of energy now would lead to a calmer meeting in the future. So the battle raged, and Vocari watched. He had his aide and hacker taking notes in addition to himself, marking down the dispositions of the various attendees and the arguments on every side of the issue. Later this evening, when the gathering had adjourned for the day, they’d go over the collected information to get a better handle on things. He knew most of the people here by name, and had interacted with most of that group. It would be interesting to see who came down where.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and Vocari turned to recognize Gallade. The three soldiers had positioned themselves in a standard defensive web, one posted at either entrance to the Chancery Battalion’s area of the room, and the last guarding the remaining individuals. Gallade leaned down and whispered in Vocari’s ear. “Sir, Daedalus just stopped a couple people from approaching us. They say that they want to talk to you.”

Vocari turned toward Daedalus, standing several yards away completely blocking an approach to their table with his body. The bodyguard had one eye on Vocari, and one eye on the people he had stopped; a human male and a masked guard. Vocari nodded slightly, not wanting to raise the attention of anybody else who might be watching, and Daedalus stepped away, allowing them entry. “Gallade, pull up a couple chairs for our guests,” said Vocari by way of greeting, standing to shake the male’s hand. He had never seen him before, and so he smiled warmly. “My name is Vocari Alexander. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

[Ixtren Wallonis]

Ixtren grimaced at the proceedings. As good as he thought his points might have been, still more than half the beings present were standing against him. And he knew that a good portion of those who weren't were still in no great position to help. The big players were holding out.

Yet the pretty blond in the distance had caught his eye. He had no idea who she was, but she was far too pretty to be a pirate.

"Ixtry, did that women just give you the wink?"

Ixtren turned around to Jasmine. "Yes, I believe she did."

"Be careful." She murmured. "I smell trouble."

Ixtren took her advice to heart. Indeed, as much as he might like to think it was something else, most women did not find 120 year old men, even one's as in good a shape as he was, attractive.

Something more was at play.

He let out a breath and stroked Max's soft fur coat. As the tree leopard purred in his lap, he could almost feel the emotions of the people around him.

No. He could feel their emotions.

Interesting.

[Eron Nightwind]

"Eron Nightwind, and this is my aid Shen. I have come to give you our support. While it is not the popular choice for a bunch of rouges who only fight when shot at, I find it hard to believe they can't see what will happen if the Vong win the war."

Eron shook Vocari's hand and motioned Tara to sit as he did the same.

"I am not well known as a player in the grand underworld scene, but things are changing, and I am in a position to make a nice little dent for myself and my team. My reputation as a solo player is good. I have done a tone of jobs for a ton of people, and always complete the job, one way or another. I am now going to expand that philosophy to the greater galaxy, and make a tidy profit for us in the process.But first things first. We have to make the galaxy normal again, end this war and make sure our way of life can continue. I don't know about you, but smuggling those horrid organic things is not my idea of a good time."

Eron sat back and waited for the skeptism. Folks around here were alive because of a health distrust of everyone they met until proven differently, and then they didn't trust them, but kept an eye on them. His group, The Cooperative, had already begun operations, and were beginning to gain credence as a rising group on the food chain. They performed all manner of mission, and never left any clue as to who was responsible. Mercenary work, smuggling, assassinations, If it was illegal and needed to be done, The Cooperative would get it done.

But it was still early, and they would only gain recognition through time and experiance.

[Azel Kelkko]

Azel worked her way through the crowd and their little platforms until she reached Ixtren's. A Dashade Shadow Killer approached her.

"State your business."

Azel noted that the pirate had good taste in his bodyguards. Shadow Killers were hard to come by. "I'm Senatar Azel Kelkko. I'd like to talk with Mr. Wallonis."

The Dashade hesitated, his eyes glancing at her head-to-foot but without any sign of lustful enjoyment.

He was pure business.

"I'll inform him."

The Dashade entered the platform and spoke to Ixtren, meanwhile two Gank Kilers flanked the entry.

Ganks too. Not surprising.

The Dashade returned with Ixtren trailing behind him.

Azel's probisci trembled in Ixtren's presence. His appearance was aged, yet noticeably dampened by cosmetic surgery. No doubt he was far older than he appeared.

Her probisci trembled again.

Ahhh, the soup! She could almost taste it now. Ixtren was a man of many many years indeed. It only enhanced the essence of his aura. His skill. His knowledge. His power.

Azel had crammed down the glowing feeling bubbling insider of her. Now was not the time for pleasure.

"Mr. Wallonis, I am Senator Azel Kelkko. I was hoping to discuss some business with you."

Unlike the Dashade, Ixtren's eyes lingered a little as they scanned Azel. "Certainly my dear, please, come, have a seat." He motioned her onto his platform and toward his empty seat.

Azel gracefully slid past the two Ganks, and slipped into the warm chair.

"Now, what kind of business would this be about?"

Azel waved at the crowd around them. "What else? It so happens I agree with your pro-action attitude toward the Vong. It's too bad I can't say the same for more of my kind. The Senate has a certain...reluctance to acknowledge the situation. The fools don't want to jeopardize the power they conceive they have." Azel looked over at Ixtren who was standing next to her, forcing her to look up. "Regardless, I'd like to provide what help I can. I can offer both money and supplies. Including ships."

"In return?"

A knee breaking smile grew upon her face. "Hurt the Vong, me dear. Hurt them...badly."

[Vocari Alexander]

"Eron Nightwind, and this is my aid Shen. I have come to give you our support. "

Vocari noted the name, and continued listening. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one of his aides writing down the name on a pad of paper and then continuing to monitor proceedings. He’d heard of Eron Nightwind during the couple months that the fleet had been at leisure, albeit only a few times. The smuggler confirmed what he suspected; he was a new face in the business, but judging from what Vocari had heard, rapidly ascendant.

He smiled politely as Eron detailed his intention to join with Vocari. He didn’t think the smuggler was lying; even though many of those at the gathering didn’t share his own views, there were just as many who did. It was good to add an ally to their camp.

Eron finished, and Vocari nodded approvingly. “I agree with you completely. We’ve always had it rough, but a life in a galaxy under Vong control is no life at all. I’m glad you feel the same way.” He slipped a datacard from his vest pocket. “We should keep in touch over the next couple days. This chip has my contact information on it. Plug it into any datapad, and you should be able to establish a link to the network immediately surrounding me. I’d like your information too.” They exchanged contact information and, with a handshake, Eron left his platform. Vocari looked after him for a moment. He seemed like a strong man. Nascent though his organization was, Vocari felt that it would go far very soon.

Exasperated, the moderator pressed a button on his podium. A strident alarm rang out, silencing the squabbling pirates. “Session is adjourned for today. Dinner will be served in Hall D until 2230 Standard tonight, and the congress will resume at the same time tomorrow.” In groups, the pirates filed out of the room, calling raucously to one another to join them for dinner.

“Dinner, boss?” asked Daedalus.

“Yes,” said Vocari as the Chancery entourage began moving toward the exit. “After that, I want you three to spread out,” he said to the bodyguards in an undertone. “Go socialize with the other members of the delegation, and see what you can find out. I’ll need you, Archimond and you, Zuko,” he said, “to come back to the suite with me after. We’re going to spend a little time processing the notes we took today and then go out and try to use our information.” He smirked. Nothing much comes of getting us all in a room together. Things really start happening on the outskirts of the party.

[Ixtren Wallonis]

A half hour before dinner.

Ixtren had finally taken off his outlandishly pink Mandalorian armor and donned a splendid black tux. Jasmine stood next to him in a outrageously expensive shimmer silk dress that was currently a dazzling array of emerald green with purple sliver specks glistening throughout. Eexis was much more relaxed. He was wearing a deep blue dress shirt and a nice ivory vest with ornate buttons.

He sighed as he looked at the two Ganks. Dressed in their shabby armor and ill green spheroid helmets, there was absolutely nothing he could do about them. They refused to remove their armor, saying it was some kind of moral sin for their species.

Regardless, he had been able to coax Creptin into a black dress shirt, slacks, and vest, but with a large flowing cape. The cape was necessary to hide the assortment of weapons he somehow smuggled in.

"I thought you only brought the rocket launcher?"

Creptin looked incredulous. "It was a rocket rifle. And no, I was not about to trust your security to just one weapon."

"But...no, I don't want to know." He thought better of asking the Dashade Shadow killer had smuggled those additional weapons in. "Well, let's go mingle a bit before dinner. Maybe we can find a few more allies. I have a feeling this whole thing is going to end in a draw, so it'll come down to making personal deals. We have a senator. Let's try for a judge."

"Very funny Ixtry." Jasmine pouted her lips in mock jest. "You just better watch how much you drink. I remember the last time you took me to a party."

Ixtren frowned. "I have no idea what your talking about."

Eexis cut in. "I remember. Didn't you go home with a big Gamorrean girl?"

Ixtren's face turned red.

"It wasn't a Gamorrean." Creptin corrected. "It was a Snivvian."

Jasmine burst into a fit of laughter, while Ixtren's face grew even redder.

"I need a drink." Ixtren looked over a Creptin. "Lead the way my loose lipped friend."

[Azel Kelkko]

The entire congress of rogues was gathered together for the dinner along a series of long, rectangular tables. Meanwhile a dozen teams of stewards were going around with carts serving the guests their food and drinks.

Azel wasn't very hungry, so she focused on drinking. Being an Anzati, she could hold quite her share of alcohol. Around her, several smuggler chiefs were trying to keep up with her pace and were not blaring drunk.

Their company was no longer amusing.

"Please excuse me gentlemen." She rose up from the table, leaving the drunks to wallow in their own little oblivions.

I think I've had enough of this sordid affair.

Azel was bored. She'd already spoken with everyone here, everyone who was important at least. What contacts and allies she'd made were all the progress she was going to make.

It was time to leave.