Ysanne Isard cast an absent gaze through the thin beading bands of horizontal streaking rain as her, thankfully covered, transport began its approach to the kilometers high landing platform that was closest to her office atop the Imperial Military Intelligence building within Imperial square. Her lithe fingers lightly brushed over the small device in her pocket, one she tickled with frequency to assure its position remained unchanged. She raised the hood of her overcoat quickly, covering her shoulder length hair. As the transport slowed, a squad of four black armored troopers stood unmoving as the platform revealed itself through the roiling storm. Like carved statues of the finest Alderaanian marble, they stood erect with blaster barrels pointed downward, power cells covered by secondary hands against the beating rains. Ysanne smiled to herself as she firmly gripped the device a final time in her pocket before the transport slowed to a stop. Her hand was on the doors latch before the driver could even engage the auto stop feature, flinging herself from the vehicle and into the pelting rains, manufactured to clean the grit and circumstance of trillions. As a unit, the black clad troopers turned at her approach then fell into step as she reached them, each maintaining her footfalls with her at their center.
A glass partition split itself from the doorway entrance to the private chambers within, a crackle and hiss the only sound as it slid quickly to allow the retinue passage unhindered. The clacking of five pairs of boots noted their entry into the austere foyer, brilliant and stark white marble slabs that brokered a pleasant contrast to the dreary and looming dark storms outside. Within seconds they had reached the threshold of her private offices, each trooper turning in step to provide her a buffeting shield of human sacrifice if the need were to arise as her office doors opened without prompt to allow her entry. Without a sound, the troopers filled the space she had vacated, erecting their wall of allegiance, boot to boot, with her door at their backs.
Ysanne slipped from the red overcoat and flung it over the back of a black, overly large, plush chair that she then sat in. She released a pensive breath, an exhale originating from the very pit of her stomach for all the stress it expelled with it. She quickly leaned forward and unzipped the sides of each of her mid knee black polished boots, proceeding to kick them off into a heap before the chair. “Timms...anything for me?” She called out as she collected the footwear and set both boots beside the chair.
“You are expected at the Gala Rotunda in three hours’ time for the Imperial Honors and Delegate Exhibition. There are no other notifications at this time Madam Director.” An elaborately accented voice rang through the room, the tone purposefully female as it halted with a warbling chirp.
“Good.” Ysanne stated slipping off black socks before she walked the three meters to one of three different desks within the room. She dug in her pocket, pulling a dull black cylinder from its folds. She eyed it carefully before sliding a docking port open upon the desk, “Analyze the data within, compile and present. I’ll return shortly.” Ysanne instructed the AI housed within the chamber itself. She gave the cylinder a final glance as it whirred lightly, a soft blinking red light inset into the opposing end assuring her the computer was following its assignment. Ysanne gripped her hair as she began removing her red uniform jacket, taking care not to tangle the ends into the stitched braiding of its collar as she walked straight toward an opposing wall, an unseen panel opening silently only a moment before she would have walked right into it.
Moments later, Ysanne emerged from the room, garbed in a loose-fitting black body suit, her hair tied in tail behind her and low ankle combat boots that didn’t make a sound as she moved. “Timms, have you compiled?”
“Yes Madam Director.”
“Do you understand?”
“I do Madam Director.”
“How long have I been in my offices?” Ysanne inquired openly.
“For the last four hours Madam Director, since your return from ISB Director Audenhoen’s office.”
‘Perfect,’ Ysanne thought to herself quickly as she pulled at the nape of her neck and straightened the collar of the body suit, letting her hair fall back into place with a twist of her wrist. “Present oration.”
“Director Audenhoen.”
“Fine then, Audy it is. It is quite refreshing to be honest.”
“Audy, please, Ysanne is fine. This is what I mean, moving past the pretense of power and title and into the realm of actual progress.”
“Now, Audy, you must understand the sensitivity of the topics discussed in the hearing, particularly why I could not divulge certain elements pertaining to your very particular questions.”
“That does not mean they don’t have answers Audy, it simply means they were unwilling to divulge what they knew.”
Ysanne tightened her muscles briefly as she narrowed her exotic eyes in unison, “Timms, stop.” She commanded, bringing the authentically one sided conversation to a halt. ‘How the hell had he done that?’ She asked herself, noting the complete silence between her own answers or questions. There was no lag, no skip nor any other indicator she could imagine that his voice had been compromised through the recording, yet hers was the only voice present. “Timms, analyze data. Suffuse dialogue with comprehensive context directive.”
“Processing….Done.” Her computer replied. “I am afraid nothing of contextual basis could be rendered pertaining to your inflections Madam Director.”
‘Thats going to be a problem.’ Ysanne thought to herself as she eyed the black cylinder, the fiery egress of hope snuffed quickly by the damning statements her own voice conveyed.
“If I may, Madam Director, this particular oration should probably be deleted. I can find no entry point within its contents in which to suffuse any form of rational communication, aside from yourself that is.”
‘Considering what other information it held, that’s probably a good idea.’ Ysanne thought to herself with more curiosity brewing than the anger she was expecting at the news. She looked about her office, suddenly very aware that the man she had committed to target was, at the very least, just as adept as she was. Some form of entry, other than herself, was to be expected within the confines of her official offices far below but all manner of precautions had been meticulously maintained to assure security in these private ones. “Has there been any manner of intrusion Timms?”
“None Madam Director.” Timms replied, the offsetting accent doing nothing to assure her despite the answer.
“I’ll have to think of something else…” Ysanne said for her own benefit, “I’ll be in the sparring Kalari, notify me in one hours’ time.”
“Of course, Madam Director, enjoy the workout.” Timms replied as Ysanne walked toward the far wall of the office, a sliding door actuating with a mild hiss as she passed briskly through.
✦
Through the beads of sweat that ran unhindered across her field of vision, Ysanne Isard spun her meter long metallic bo staff with aggressive and blinding speed, crouching low before the training droid, she smashed its right leg with a simple alteration in trajectory and snap of her wrist. The devastating blow registered a loud crack as the prosthetic appendage bowed wickedly inward, a satisfying crunch of servos and circuitry alike providing the only sounds of victory. She whipped the weapon in a reverse direction, spinning it behind her back quickly before delivering one of the but ends directly into the target’s mid chest with another satisfying crunch. A loud crack sounded with finality as the prosthesis split open from the blow. Ysanne stepped back as she yielded the weapon with her, turning slowly from the damaged training dummy, only to whirl around again with her 434 blaster she had snatched from her side with her free hand, unleashing three quick and accurately placed bolts right into its head.
Panting, Ysanne walked to her weapons rack and replaced the bo staff in its cradle with heavy breaths, her chest rising and falling rapidly from the strenuous exercise. She grabbed a towel that hung loosely from the same rack and wiped the sweat from her face, the sound of light hand clapping stopping her immediately.
“Very impressive Ms. Isard, an interesting combination of Shodu Lin and Ka’ak forms...the blaster may have been unnecessary though.” A light voice spoke behind her, dying immediately upon the air within the sound proof room.
Ysanne, turned quickly, the 434 raised mid chest and ready to discharge into the source of the voice, only to find nothing there. “Show yourself.” She barked out, her wavering tone an unwanted reality of the physical exertion through her session as she scanned the small room quickly, the damaged training droid standing resolutely as its sole occupant.
Ysanne felt the tendrils of fears embrace begin to snake their cold and uncaring grasp through her veins, vying for control only to be suffused by her own resolve and annoyance. She quickly measured her breaths and assumed a calm demeanor, annihilating the fear outright. “I do not wish to play games, who are you?”
“A friend Ms. Isard, or a counterpart to be more precise.” The female voice answered with a soft tone and perfectly fluid basic directly into Ysanne’s right ear. A sound Ysanne did not expect filled the air with a palpable tension that allowed the fear to rush right back in without hinderance, the simple ignition of the energy blade snapped with a latent static as it hissed to life over her right shoulder. The gated warble of confined energy deafening as it cast a magenta hue over her entire field of vision. Ysanne froze on the spot, realizing any movement on her part would deliver her directly into unwanted territory. She could feel its heat on the exposed flesh of her neck, how it charged the remaining beads of sweat into instant boil causing pin pricks of direct pain, yet she maintained her stature and remained unmoving.
“You have made an ally of fear Ms. Isard, quite commendable...and precisely why this conversation is taking place.” The woman said behind Ysanne.
Ysanne beat her fear into submission as her anger began to take control, “this is hardly a conversation.”
“Too true.” The woman quickly returned, running the sabers magenta blade out and away from Ysanne’s neck and thrust gently forward into her own hand.
Ysanne felt the unyielding metallic cylinder in her grasp as the woman’s hand left her own with a light flourish, the woman’s skin soft and warm as it cradled her own wrist briefly, allowing Ysanne complete control of the activated weapon. “The sound is intoxicating is it not?” She whispered into Ysanne’s ear, letting her wrist go as she traced her finger tips down her forearm and cradled her elbow. With a light push forward, the woman teased the movement as Ysanne slowly thrust the saber forward, the crackle and hum as it diffused the dry air before it eliciting the suggested response. Ysanne allowed herself the euphoria as she felt its dizzying affects, taking the saber in slow but measured arcs before her and looking down toward its perfect edges. Each movement of the lightsaber a statement of intent that she felt to her core, the change in pitch with each millimeter of alteration different than the last. “It’s a satisfaction that cannot be denied Ysanne Isard, one of power, of control. Do you feel it?”
Ysanne knew the question was rhetorical but could not help herself to respond, “...yes…”
“Then take the blade and finish your enemy.” The woman said as she traced her fingers one final time up Ysanne’s arm and onto her shoulder, turning her slightly to the broken training droid.
Ysanne Isard let the euphoria take complete control as she tuned her focus with a single objective. She narrowed her eyes as she sought her target, like a hunter locating the sweet spot of her prey, she found the weakest joint upon the droid’s head and the exact point she would sever it from its mechanical body. Without remorse, she burst from her feet and arced the blade in a high-pitched frenzy one hundred eighty degrees, precisely where the intrusive woman should have been, finding nothing but the padding of the wall in front of her. Her shock and surprise lasted only the time it took to turn her head, catching a quick glimpse of a shock of red hair before she was removed from her feet by an invisible assailant and slammed against the padded wall, dropping the saber with an extinguishing flourish.
✦
“Madam Director, your hour is up.” Timms reported into the room via audio feed inset into the ceiling panels. Ysanne lay in a dizzied heap on the floor through the reminder, hearing the notification but helpless to push herself from her resting place. She blinked her eyes a few times trying to remove the discombobulating haze from her vision as she worked her jaw muscles slowly. “Madam Director, your hour is up.” Timms notified her again. Ysanne slowly flexed her fingers as they lay just in front of her face, finding that some measure of voluntary control was returning with a slight wiggle of her thumb. She found more control returning as her will to regain function forced the immobilization into submissive retreat and pealed her face from the hard floor with a sucking sound that sent her mind spinning. She raised her hand to her cheek slowly fearing a profusion of blood and blew out a relieved breath when the liquid identified clear, only saliva that she had dispensed while her mouth had hung open. Ysanne pushed herself up on her backside placing her back against the padded wall wiping the remainder of the saliva from her cheek and face with her sleeve.
“Madam Director, your hour is up.” Timms sounded for a third time.
“Yes dammit, I know.” Ysanne forced herself to shout, clenching both hands into fists as they rested upon her knees.
“Alright Madam, I will assemble your attire for the Exhibition. Your transport is due to arrive in just under two hours.” Timms updated as Ysanne sought her inner strength to push herself up to her feet. With a wavering gait, she fell back into the padded wall softly just before the dizziness left her. She shook her head quickly, an affirmation that her responses were timely enough to emerge from the room without any annoying inquisition from the resident AI. On feet that were entirely her own once again she walked swiftly from the Kalari.
“Timms, who was in here?” Ysanne stated more than asked, her voice uncharacteristically dark and full of mirth, even to her own ears.
“Madam? You have been the sole occupant of these offices since your arrival five hours ago.” Timms responded with its customary manufactured resolve.
“Pull up video feeds. Someone was in the Kalari with me.” Ysanne wasn’t in the mood for witticisms or games.
“On screen two.” Timms sounded out, diverting Ysanne’s attention to an inlaid monitor on the wall nearest the Kalari entrance.
Ysanne watched herself going through her warmup routine, followed quickly by a staccato of martial movements that continued for the next fifteen minutes. Finally, she watched as she retrieved the staff from its rack and began twirling it with blinding speed. The feed promptly crackled, laced with static briefly then blacked out altogether, proceeding for the next ten minutes. Ysanne continued watching, almost unblinking until the pattern reversed through a series of patterned interference, a lacing static then continuous, perfect resolution with herself plastered to the floor, drooling freely upon its surface.
“Apologies Madam Director, I was unaware of any intrusion or interference with the video link.” Timms responded in something resembling mechanical embarrassment.
“No need Timms, the intrusion was fact not conjecture. We just saw its mask.” She conveyed her misgivings without relaying any further information. ‘Certainly not Jedi…’ She told herself, wondering only now if the voice had been a masking suggestion of its own accord with the Force as its ally or if the admittedly intoxicating feeling of power and control with the saber in her hand had planted the seed involuntarily. The dawning realization that she was still alive held more merit than she cared to admit, one of the few times in her life that her own vulnerability was completely outside her control. The thought frightened her but piqued her interest with a fervency that squelched the fear back into submission which, subsequently, provided more questions than answers.
‘If an intruder can accomplish the impossible, the definition of impossible will need to be rethought.’ Ysanne told herself as she remained motionless within the hub of her personal offices. Nothing about the encounter was familiar, outside of the knowledge that the Force had been at work on some level, some degree, or multiples the more she thought it through, that were honed and refined with a startling precision. The voice was foreign. The lightsabers color, although unique, relayed nothing to her. The shock of red hair or the calming touch would amount to uselessness on a planet of trillions. Ysanne committed the details to memory just the same, ‘I don’t think this will be the last time we meet.’ She told herself.
“Madam Director, it is advisable that you begin preparations, you are to serve at the Emperor’s side tonight after all.” Timms recentered Ysanne’s focus, despite the wary glare that she still presented with a final scan of the office.
As her heartbeat finally returned to a normal cadence, Ysanne let the hard edge she had crafted relax somewhat, “good point.” She said casually before heading to a third concealed doorway and disappeared beyond its threshold, the door sliding silently back into place.
After more than an hour, Ysanne felt prepared. Her dark hair braided loosely and offset over her left shoulder, the silver locks that framed her face remaining as such. She had adorned the pre-selected finery Timms had prepared, an ankle length gown of several layers of gold and tan synthweave fiber panels, each overlapping the previous in a downward pattern that resembled dune seas on arid planets. She applied minimal amounts of make-up as her captivating and exotic eyes would draw the necessary attention her way on their own. Small baubles of shining silver hung delicately from her ear lobes and a loose gold chain hung about her neck, everything tidied by a deep crimson stole that gave shape to the shoulders it clung to, softly draping her waist on either side. Finalizing the ensemble, she had adorned a pair of designer high heeled laced boots, its tanned synthhide panels stopping at the ankles as the lacings twisted upward toward her knees in a web like fashion. “Breathtaking, I am sure Madam Director.” Timms commented as she posed for its multiple photoreceptors.
“Whom have they scheduled for tonight’s entertainment?” Ysanne asked as she worked the heel into a more comfortable position on her left boot.
“Concordant with the serenity and peace the summit is to elicit, Cyra Xyris and the Nexus Ensemble.”
Ysanne rolled her eyes as she approached the working end of her desk, sliding open the top drawer with the push of a button, “finery and delicacy, the offerings will consist of Theelin wines and Astral Soiree.” She said for her own benefit, plucking two small white pills from a collection of assorted and more brilliantly colored alternatives, then promptly positing them in her mouth.
“Madam Director, your transport is approaching.” Timms administered the update.
Ysanne gulped the pills down with one hard swallow and turned for the main doors.
“Don’t wait up for me.” She said over her shoulder as she met her cadre of unflinching troopers outside them.
The door slid back into place without a sound, “but of course Mistress.”
✦
Search lights numbering in the dozens, spanned the skies over the Imperial Promenade, just adjacent her own district as her transport brought Ysanne closer to the spectacle in one of two restricted skyways, edging closer to the galactic excuse to mingle and be seen by the throngs that held but a dose of the power they had imagined for themselves. The Sector Governors would garner the spotlights tonight, much to Ysanne’s relief as her mind was ferociously occupied at the moment. The cloudless sunset cast brilliant beams of a wide array of oranges and reds, reflecting, as designed, by the deluge of rain, presenting an illuminated and lustrous example of the district, and those nearby. The reality of neglect and purpose blanketed by the illusion of cleanliness and order.
Her transport pulling up and finally stopping in her turn to grace the sanctity of the Emperor’s finery, she patiently waited this time for the driver to complete his task, taking the proffered hand of the nameless man that opened the door for her. A simple exchange of hands to ones more gruff, calloused, and larger, begged for her attention. Ysanne swiveled her gaze to look upon a tall man, ruggedly built beneath layer upon layer of white tasseled fabrics, then into the aged eyes of Sate Pestage himself. The driver bid his dues and slowly departed as Pestage lifted her hand and ushered her slowly up the canted walkway to the enormous double doors of the Promenade which stood open to the cool but not cold approaching night air. “My word Sate, ever the gentlemen. I would have expected to have met your acquaintance within.”
“Your foolish antics have escalated my timeline Ms. Isard.” Sate Pestage responded with a growl as he brought his face in close to her ear, presenting a mild kiss to the exposed cheek.
“You’d be attractive you know, if you weren’t such an ass.” Ysanne scolded him softly with a thin-lipped smile, the gentle whisper well out of earshot of the throngs of onlookers that had taken to the event simply to view its attendees. The flashes of dozens of devices and the underlying buzz and hum of the scores of hovercams told her no measure of conversation was safe outside the building.
“As would you Miss, if you weren’t such an an’yak.” Pestage responded in a hushed tone, “besides, you’re not my type.”
Ysanne smiled for the flashes, the brilliance of their manufactured lights threatening to steal her vision from her. “And what type is that?”
“Competent.” Pestage retorted as he smiled and waved for the cams. If she took umbrage with the snide comment he couldn’t tell, her hand was in the air just as his, her smile beaming through its false implementation to perfection. She simply squeezed his hand in a manner indistinguishable between a multitude of noted gestures.
The pair reached the crescendo of the rise, and with it the clamor of Coruscant as they passed through a sound de-amplification field set within the door’s massive frame. The mood and ambiance suddenly relaxed and at ease to the sounds of melodious string instruments, the tinkling of razor thin glassware and hushed murmurs. Ysanne spotted the precise ensemble Timms had reported, observing the pink and purple complexion of the loosely dressed Theelin strumming away at her own fine piece with a white handled camsok bow. Not quite her first choice, the music was admittedly fresh and quite relaxing. Sate Pestage ushered them directly for one of the serving trays handled by thickly robed wait staff, each quite easy to identify through the multitude of light-colored attire most of the attendees adorned with their dark, midnight blue hoods pulled low in an effort to conceal the entirety of their faces.
Ysanne was particularly pleased to see a Theelin Amber prominently displayed upon the tray, and with a subtle nod, Sate reached out a hand delicately to acquire the fine stem of the long-fluted glassware, filling his other hand, after letting her hand lightly drop, with a Soiree that presented clear through its own vessel. “Although absent the systemic elements that lie outside control, the venue is ever more as brash and bold in its abilities to hear and see those things that wish to remain anonymous.” Pestage commented, his eyes ever shifting just under the hem of the wrappings about his aged head.
“Call me a fool without saying as much one more time Sate and I’ll slit your throat where you stand.” Ysanne responded, batting her lengthened eyebrows just enough to delay his reply.
“Lest you find yourself in a room, thinking yourself its only occupant.” Pestage replied focusing both eyes upon her with a brash nod of his head, “but I digress as this isn’t the venue for such matters.” He concluded raising his head above his tall frame to scan the foyer and extending hall for something in particular.
“I have no misgivings about making a scene right here Pestage, do not threaten me under any pretense.” Ysanne barked back to the head turns and dying murmurs around them.
He fired his gaze directly into hers, his eyes burning with a rage she’d never seen within them, a rage that roiled just under the surface of his skin that percolated within them, sending course shocks of the unknown through her very bones. “Miss Isard, the most lethal of your adversaries lie in wait, not more than footsteps from where you now stand. If you wish to achieve the hopes you have defined, you will shut your damn mouth and listen to me.” The tone was harsh, yet deceptively quiet as he seethed his warnings, “the benefactor of your grand design is not so easily swayed as to be dismissed by vile words and promises of contempt, I would have thought you capable of learning from your most recent encounters what is possible.”
Ysanne let the charade fall victim to the harsh tone and determined promises the man before her eluded to, a nervousness clenching at her that took the sum of her composure to conceal. She changed her expression as she changed her tactic and presented herself the smiling compatriot in the hands of a dear friend as the man reacquired her free hand and brought it delicately toward his heart. ‘If he even has one.’ She thought to herself.
His own smile returned, an endearing facsimile that had no doubt taken him years to master as the two proceeded inward toward the Grand Hall and into the throngs of those Corporate entities that still remained loyal to Imperial Securities, System delegates and finally the Sector Governors that held no more power than their systemic colleagues. Ysanne Isard understood the need to present such shared ideals but knew the only one with real power was the same man clad in black and violet robes that Pestage was ushering her toward.