“`Post-GJW XVI The Dark Ascent Arx
It had been around four weeks since the Brotherhood’s assault on the Children of Mortis and their withdrawal from the Ethereal Realm. Dacien Victae, the former Deputy Grand Master, has seized power for himself - with none on The Council daring to question his move. In his place he appointed the now-former Justicar Darth Renatus, known to many as Thane Stokos, to be his Shadow Hand. Kamjin I'mNotTypingThat-Palpatine has ascended as head of the Brotherhood’s justice system.
The injuries sustained by the Voice of the Brotherhood have almost entirely healed. He’s not 100%, but is back on his feet and able to move under his own power. He undergoes regular bacta treatments. His armor has been missing since he was first brought back to the Dark Ascent, with the Regent mostly absent since The Council’s report to Dacien at that fateful meeting where he took the Throne for himself.”`
The Regent had spent the last several weeks in seclusion around his forge, leaving the day-to-day operations of The Exchange to his main lackey - Thran Ocassus Palpatine.
The Mandalorian General exited the Xi-class shuttle he had taken from Mattock Station to the planet’s surface, exiting the main hangar and making his way throughout the halls of the mountainous structure perched atop Eos City. Floating behind him was a sealed case on a small repulsorlift sled, bearing his own Krayt Dragon signet.
Without so much as a word, the Mandalorian entered into the unoccupied office of the Voice of the Brotherhood, leaving behind the case and repulsor-sled.
As he departed, he tapped a few buttons on his Mandalorian Vambrace and activated the comlink inside his helmet as he dialed in the Fist of the Brotherhood’s personal channel.
“Cindertail. What is your location?”
To say Rajhin was tired would be an understatement, though he’d never show it. When he wasn’t in his office working through redesign plans for the Crucible and skimming through profiles for his grand vision of a repurposed Royal Guard he was performing award ceremonies in the Iron Legion barracks to commemorate the legion’s bravery during the war. At this precise moment the Fist was walking back from the medical ward of the barracks where he often made the rounds to make sure wounded legionaries knew they were not forgotten.
The Togorian’s wrist communicator flashed and vibrated. “Cindertail. What is your location?” The Regent’s familiar voice inquired.
“I’m in the Legion barracks, do you need something friend?”
Zxyl nodded, though the Togorian couldn’t see that.
“I have the nformation on those items you requisitioned, and some samples for you to examine. I’ll be in the main hangar,” Zxyl declared, making his way back to the main hangar where the ACE transport resided.
He was alone, walking through a field of corpses. Each corpse bore a face he knew. His colleges, his friends, his family. The heads turned watch him lifelessly as he walked by. He stopped, standing before an armored corpse, dozens of crystalline spears pinning it to the ground. He removed its helmet, the same one he had worn daily for so many years. His decaying corpse smiled at him.
Idris Adenn’s eyes snapped open, and the bacta tank began to drain.
He stepped from the tank and began to dry himself.
“Report,” he said with a shaky voice.
“You are continuing to make progress. Updated projections show full recovery within 14 treatments,” The synthesized voice of E.D.I. rang through the air. Idris pulled his hair back, wringing the bacta from it.
“The Regent has also made a delivery to your office.”
Idris let out a deep breath. It was time to get back to work.
“Excellent!” Rajhin’s mood improved with the good news. “I will meet you in the hanger.”
Kamjin hated moving. The packing, carrying, inevitably losing something, unpacking…it was a chore and through a series of events he’d been doing it a lot as of late. From the Empire’s capital on Ragnath, to his estate in the mountains, to the Monolith, and now to the Dark Ascent. Hopefully there would be porters to help.
His hands moved across the controls with the ease of a lifetime of piloting. The Ghtroc 720 Light Freighter was not his usual Imperial mode of transportation but given he was ‘between’ jobs the bureaucracy hadn’t been able to release a ship for him. So, he settled for this beat up all freighter he had kept around from his old intelligence days.
“Eos control, this is Ghtroc 720 Light Freighter Tātorutaimu on approach. Requesting clearance to land,” Kamjin said, flipping on the transponder.
“Tātorutaimu? What is your cargo going destination? We have no record of a supply run today,” the crisp military woman’s voice replied over the comms.
“This is Kamjin Lap’lamiz aboard the Tātorutaimu. I am not carrying cargo. I am here to take over the Justicar office,” Kamjin tried not to sound annoyed. Rumors traveled fast but authorizations were slower than a Bantha.
“We have you down as arriving on Turtle Boy. Tātorutaimu is not cleared,” the voice returned.
Ugh, Kamjin moaned. Naturally someone was pea king the new guy. He wasn’t going to let it rattle him. He’d been an Imperial pilot before his long career within the Admiralty. The best way was always to play along.
“Roger, updating transponder,” Kamjin updated the transmission and watched the flight path come in and the landing coordinates.
The hangar was the usual flair of activity. Kamjin guided his freighter gracefully to its designated spot.
Wearing a simplistic robe with a hood cloak he descended from the ship. The only remaining piece form his past attire was the metallic shoulder pads.
“Excuse me,” Kamjin said to a nearby tech. “Can you have someone begin unloading my belongings?”
The Quarren tech’s tentacles bristled. “Uh, keep it moving lower decks,” he said as he went about his business.
“Lower decks?” Kamjin though before looking at his rather plain attire compared to the usual flare of the Councilors. “Oh the uniform…”
In the darkness of his office, Thane Skotos allowed a sigh to fill the space. He was still getting used to the new space now that he had been voluntold to depart the Justicar’s. He still wasn’t sure what he had done to be punished by way of promotion.
Perhaps he had spent one too many meetings on mute with the holocam off.
Regardless, he was now Dacien’s Deputy. It would be a new experience compared to Evant’s reign. That much was certain, at least.
Thane still didn’t much care to be trapped by responsibility. With another sigh, he pushed his datapad away and dismissed the glow. The man rose to his feet and decided a few laps around the Ascent would do him some good.
General Bes'uliik traversed through the mountain retreat’s various corridors and hallways back the way he came, moving via his two feet and turbolifts to reach the hangar bay from the Councilor offices. When he arrived, the Mandalorian made his way up to the top of the ramp and leaned in, gesturing for the service droids holding a few crates of their own to make their way down and out to the open area. They followed suit, and the Regent waited patiently for the oversized tiger’s arrival - going so far as to sit on one of the crates with arms crossed once they were rested down on the hard metallic floor.
He’d wait to open them until the Fist of the Brotherhood made his way to their location, though he already knew what was inside. Samples of new gear that the Togorian had requisitioned for the Royal Guard, from armor to weapons to even a new grenade. The Dathomirian-Mandalorian had been happy to oblige with procurement, always ready to improve the stuff Brotherhood forces depended on to keep them alive - even if he didn’t know exactly what Cindertail was planning.
Zxyl was however curious how long it would take the near-recuperated Voice of the Brotherhood to open the crate left in his office and gander upon his reforged armor, though. When the ascendant crystal spear had pierced his chest, Adenn’s armor had been hastily removed and was already in shambles before being picked up by the expert blacksmith. He’d been incredibly meticulous in reworking Idris’ armor, modifying its design slightly according to previous conversations the two had.
The Councilor surprisingly hadn’t noticed the new Justicar until this moment, and glanced in his direction for a moment before turning his head back.
Kamjin was now embroiled in a heated exchange with the deck officer. They both juggled multiple pads between themselves.
“How many times must I tell you? I have authorization to take over the office of Justicar!” Kamjin’s voice continued to raise in volume.
“Sir, I can see the requisition request but it wasn’t approved beyond the initial receiver. I can send an escalated communique to your supervisor to approve the request,” the deck officer said, thrusting a pad at the Justicar.
Kamjin shoved it back. “And who is that? I don’t answer to the Grand Master. Are you going to track down everyone who authorized my appointment me for them to sign off on my authorization?” Kamjin snapped back.
“Yes, sir. That’s actually the process but it appears that one person denied it.”
“And that resets the whole chain?”
“That’s right, sir. If one denial occurs in the requisition chain it’s denied and returned to the submitter to resubmit.”
Kamjin’s eyes flared at the hopeless bureaucracy. “Well who was that?”
“I can’t tell you sir. It’s above my access level and with your access in flux you can’t see it either.”
Idris stood naked in his office, staring at the large package delivered by the Regent. He ran his hand over the Krayt Dragon Signet embellished on the crate. His armor was his life, his second skin, elegant defensive protection a perfect blend of beskar and Mandalorian ingenuity.
Yet he kept the crate closed, his eyes unfocused on anything as he disassociated back into his memories.
“Sir?” the synthetic voice of E.D.I. called out after several minutes of silence.
Idris’s consciousness slammed back into awareness of his office and his chilly nakedness.
“It wasn’t the first time I nearly died,” he muttered reassuringly to himself.
“Technically you did die. Three times. One hundred and ninety-seven seconds total,” E.D.I. quickly informed him. Idris ran his hand over the scarring wound in his chest.
“Well then, I guess I shouldn’t worry about next time either.”
He held his hand out before him and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath he reached out beyond his physical self. The crate’s closing mechanism clicked open.
The Regent’s H.U.D. lit up for a moment. A notification. His armor’s AI, H.A.L., automatically opened the message since there was nothing going on and the Mandalorian General was waiting on the arrival of his fellow Councilor.
It stated a very simple message:
Crate opened.
Bes'uliik smirked, concealed by the emotionless helmet he wore on his head. The Voice of the Brotherhood was back in action.
While normally genetically-altered Dathomirian-Mandalorian would rejoice, he had other things to tend to. Instead, he simply sent a message to his fellow Mando'ade comrade through his vambrace.
Hangar Bay, when you are ready "Lord" Adenn.
He couldn’t help but add the quotation marks. The two had known each other since before the Brotherhood, and he almost couldn’t take the man’s new title seriously.
Meanwhile, Kamjin had moved over to a stack of crates with the Deck Officer. An assortment of datapads were spread out over the makeshift table.
“No, this one,” the Deck Officer said, pointing at a pad buried under several others.
“I signed that one,” Kamjin said, stooping down to pickup several pads that dropped onto the hangar floor when he had tried to retrieve the one that had been referenced.
“No, you only initialed it. You didn’t sign it,” the Deck Officer said, spinning it around now that it had been uncovered.
“What’s the difference? I acknowledged it,” Kamjin said, unceremoniously dumping the recovered datapads back onto the crate.
“Sir, the TPS report has to be signed. The DD3 has to be initialed.”
“I did that!” Kamjin screamed, slamming down the supposed TPS report.
“Sir, that’s a SPT report and you only signed it once. That one needs to be signed in triplicate and sent to Lois Nominator in receiving,” the Deck Office spun the SPT report around next to the TPS report he had been gesturing at earlier.
“That’s a made up name,” Kamjin said, throwing back his hood and messing up his hair.
“No, she’s very much real. Nice lady, brings in these little tea cakes before the weekend.”
“I don’t care!”
“Sir, there’s no need to be rude.”
“What is it going to take to get this taken care of so I can get into the building?”
“Like I said Sir, it starts with the TPS report…”
Rajhin entered the main hanger with an upbeat sense of anticipation, the new gear for the repurposed Royal Guard had been a long time coming. Instead of having members of the Brotherhood serve as glorified bodyguards or ceremonial honor guard, the best warriors from across the Brotherhood could volunteer to serve as part of an elite force. The new Guard would serve a symbolic as well as practical purpose as a representation of the strength of a free and united Brotherhood.
The Togorian approached Zxyl and greeted him with a crisp fist across the chest and slight bow. “I must thank you again for all your hard work in assembling this fine equipment for our warriors.”
Zxyl uncrossed his arms, moving to his feet as the Togorian warrior approached. He nodded in response to the giant’s appreciation, bowing his head slightly. It had been his pleasure. He was more than happy to arm the Brotherhood with better equipment when the opportunity arose.
“The pleasure was mine. Sorry it took so long to get these samples ready for you.”
Stepping to the side of the crate he had been sitting on, Bes'uliik tapped on the screen of his Mandalorian vambrace a few times. The eight crates opened simultaneously in-sync, revealing their contents to Cindertail.
In the first crate was a set of grey armor, similar in design but more tactical than the armor worn by soldiers of the Iron Legion. In the second, a full interchangeable weapons system bearing the same hallmark design as the DC-17m, but clearly modified and sporting a new paint scheme. The third contained a few samples of a small half-moon headset, including a small display and earpiece. The fourth in the sequence contained a few sleek and thin datapads, each with a high quality display, while the sixth contained a set of armor similar to the first crate but much darker and sporting red highlights. The sixth included a few vambraces, each fitted with a single-barrel Dur-24 Wrist Laser, retractable wrist blade, small controls screen, and a dart shooter. In the seventh was a new type of grenade even the Togorian was unfamiliar with.
The real treat, however, sat in the eight and final case. It was bigger than the others, and now the reason why was revealed to anyone looking. It contained a droid resembling the BX-series Droid Commando, though with obvious structural improvements, likely some hidden internal changes, and a new color scheme that was primarily crimson red to invoke the history of the old Grand Master’s Royal Guard.
The Regent walked the Fist of the Brotherhood through each piece, pulling them out and showing off their features. He saved the best for last, the new grenade… And handed one to the Togorian to try out. Zxyl bobbed his head in Kamjin’s direction as a hint.
Rajhin looked over at Kamjin, down at the grenade then back to Zxyl with a momentary frown. “We will have ample time to test these properly in the crucible.” He handed the grenade back to the Regent. The commando droid caught the Fist’s attention as he returned to the open crate to continue examining it, imagining the possibilities. His traditional Togorian warrior sensibilities didn’t favor the use of combat droids over actually facing one’s enemies but through his military experience he knew the right droid in the right hands was a combat multiplier.
Zxyl shrugged, placing the grenade back in its case. He followed the Fist of the Brotherhood over to the droid crate, tapping a few buttons on his vambrace. This specific example droid’s activation prototcols had been keyed to his vambrace, so he could provide a demonstration. The droid activated, rising from its folded, crouched position and standing tall. It turned its head to look at the Regent, then back at Rahjin.
“Directive?” it asked the Togorian.
“It’s been programmed to follow your commands, Cindertail, so you can put it through its paces.”
Meanwhile, the Deck Officer had collected several datapads and moved away from the newly minted Justicar who was resting his forearms on the piled high crates staring at a holographic symbol hovering his communicator.
“Thank you for contacting the Brotherhood help desk. Your call is important to us and will be answered in the order received. To begin, please tell me the reason for your call,” said the metallic voice of Dbbot.
“Lost access codes,” Kamjin said with a sigh.
“I heard, Locate Arx Nodes. Is that right?”
“No, lost - access - codes,” Kamjin said with growing distain.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t make that out. Please repeat.”
“LOST. ACCESS. CODES!” Kamjin bellowed.
“Processing.”
“Processing…”
“I could not understand your request. Thank you for contacting the Brotherhood help desk. Your call is important to us and will be answered in the order received. To begin, please tell me the reason for your call,” the lifeless voice restarted. Kamjin hit the crates with his fist.
“Operator,” Kamjin said, staring into the floating symbol.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t make that out.”
“OPERATOR!” Kamjin’s voice was echoing through the hangar now.
“Operator. One moment,” Dbbot said. Kamjin sighed as he waited. “Requesting Operator.” There was a series of tones and Kamjin looked hopeful that there would finally be progress.
“Before I transfer you to an Operator I need some additional information. Please say or enter your five digit ID.”
“7 - 1 - 1,” Kamjin said slowly, making sure to cleary state the numbers.
“I’m sorry. Pleaes say or enter your five digit ID,” Dbbot asked again. Kamjin’s face contorted.
“7 - 1 - 1,” he said again.
“Processing.”
“Processing…I’m sorry, you did not enter a valid five digit ID. Goodbye,” Dbbot said as the symbol disappeared and the communictor went dead.
The body glove was a deep red, So indistinguishable from blood Idris couldn’t help but wonder just how much of his own would end up coming to stain it. His last one had soaked up plenty in its time. The cloth was still firm, needing to be worn and broken in, but still enveloped his body like a soothing blanket.
Each piece of his beskar armor he lifted out of the crate with his mind, his total focus at pushing his Force-sensitivity powers to the max of his capabilities.
Far from a **Jetii.
There of course had been Mandalorian Jedi before. His mind thought of the great Tarre Vizsla, constructor of the fabled Darksaber. His hands glided over the top of his own lightsaber, a family heirloom for so many generations they didn’t even know who first had claimed it.
Last of his armor came his helmet, long after even his weapons and gear had made their homes on his body. He stared at it in silence.
He finally slipped it on and left his office, noticing an alert come through from Zxyl. Seems the Hangar Bay was the hip cool place to be at the moment.
”7 - 1 - 1.”
Idris cocked his head to the side as he walked past the clearly frustrated man.
Kamjin Lap’lamiz. Scholae Palatinae.
He stopped in his tracks, trying to recall more recent information.
New Justicar.
He had been slipping in and out of a coma when the vote came through. Idris wasn’t sure exactly what his vote was. He was guessing it was positive based on things he had heard about Kamjin previously.
“You need the leading double zeros there,” Idris offered to the man with a sympathetic shrug before making his way towards Zxyl and Rajhin.
Bes'uliik watched the exchange with between the new Justicar - whom he had voted to confirm - and the Dark Ascent personnel. It was just starting to… devolve.
When he noticed Adenn making his way up to them, fully garbed in his reforged beskar'gam, he put a hand on his hip. It looked damn good, and he was glad that the man was up and running again.
“Idris,” he started, “Welcome back to the land of the living, vod.”
Idris clapped his fellow Mandalorian on the back while his other hand rubbed against his armored chest plate.
“Jury is still out on living. You did fine work on the beskar'gam, some of your best,” he said. After a moment of contemplation he added, “It also smells like a new landspeeder in here.”
Thane tilted his head and scratched under his chin as he walked. The now Deputy Grand Master was idly reading while letting his feet take him…wherever. A few pings told him that someone was trying to—and I quote—impersonate the Justicar in the hangar.
Huh.
Well, he wasn’t doing anything better at that moment. So, Thane started towards the aforementioned hangar.
At the same time, he wondered if Idris had heard anything about Jinkam lately. Always showed up in reports. Good kid.
Zxyl looked down at the hand for a moment, then back to his comrade. If it weren’t for the two mens’ history, he might have had something to say about it.
“Well, it smelled like rancid womprat before. I had the bodyglove completely disinfected, and the armor has been completely reforged. Good to hear you like it.”
IDRIS! Rajhin interjected as his attention shifted from the upgraded commando droid. “Not even death could hold you down my friend.” The Torgorian felt a rush of relief but also a twinge of guilt. No matter what the circumstances were or even if he could have actually done anything about it, a member of the council receiving grievous injury was something the Fist took as a personal responsibility.
<@260640060775464960> <@360143250457100288>
Kamjin looked over at the commotion and noticed several stormtroopers approaching him.
“Hey,” Kamjin started as the Deck Officer pointed at him. The troopers rushed forward raising their carbines.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Kamjin demanded, ignoring the automated voice of Dbbot asking again for his five digit identification number.
“Sir, we need to see some identification,” the lead trooper demanded.
“I’ve been showing my identification and no one will accept it,” Kamjin said, moving his arm into a robe pocket to get his identification card.
“He’s got a weapon!” a junior trooper screeched and a blue-hued circle of energy flew towards Kamjin. The newly minted shoulder armor took the blast. Kamjin gritted his teeth as the electricity arced over his body. Through sheer force of will he remained conscience.
“I was getting my ID!” Kamjin yelled.
“The imposter is being aggressive. Get back-up in here!” the Lead Trooper yelled into his built in comlink. Kamjin staggered forward, fighting to maintain his balance as his nerves screamed in agony.
“Look out! He’s coming right for us!” a metallic vocalizor intoned before more stun bolts started to fly.
The sound of stun bolts being fired echoed across the hangar bay. Rajhin glanced over and let out a growl of immense anger as he stormed over to the scene with unnatural speed.
“LOWER YOUR WEAPONS THIS INSTANT!” The Togorian roared as he rushed toward the troopers with fire in his eyes.
The hapless deck officer may not have been able to tell one dark-haired human from another but they damn sure knew the unmistakable 2.2 meter visage of the Supreme Commander of the Iron Legion barreling toward them fangs bared with a deep growl of anger. “Mah-mah-my lord Fist this man was trying to breach security without ID, he was impersonating the Justicar.”
Rajhin’s eyes narrowed as he stepped forward to within a meter of the deck officer, towering over him, “This IS the Justicar!” He paused for emphasis. “YOU HAVE JUST ASSAULTED A MEMBER OF THE COUNCIL!”
“but-but-but his ID-” the poor trooper stammered.
“DO YOU NOT HAVE EYES?!” The Fist took a deep breath to center himself and continued in a calmer but no less direct tone. “If you lack awareness to the point where you cannot identify a council member by sight then your unit should certainly have enough discipline not to pull the trigger on a person trying to comply with what you are asking them to do.”
Rajhin noticed the Justicar regain his stance and brush himself off. “Are you alright Lord Justicar?”
Thane stepped into the hangar. That was, by all accounts, the worst time to do so. For he got to hear all of Rahjin’s lecture.
“I’m fine,” Kamjin said, shaking off the effects of stun bolts. The shorter Sith stared up at then Togorian. Had they ever been this close before? He could tell that while the Fist was upset he would be more upset if suddenly his troopers were electrocuted.
The moment was loss when the voice Dbbot could be heard again, “If you don’t provide your five digit ID you’ll be disconnected.”
“Crap, one moment,” Kamjin said, diving for the comlink. “I’m here! 0-0-7-1-1.”
“Identify confirmed. Connecting you now,” Dbbot said.
“Hello, this is Susan,” an exotically accented woman said who did not at all sound like a Susan. “How may I help you?”
“Hi, I’m Kamjin Lap’lamiz and I need my Justicar credentials updated in the Arx system.”
“Absolutely, I can help with that. Can I just verify some information before we get started? What is your ID?” Susan asked.
Kamjin sighed, “711.”
“I’m not finding that in the system.”
“Damnit, 0-0-711,” Kamjin sighed, mouthing ‘moron’ to the Fist.
“And can I get your first and last name?” Susan asked.
“Didn’t I…fine. Kamjin Lap’lamiz.”
“Could you be known under any other names?” Susan asked.
“My callsign is Maverick,” Kamjin said.
“I think I see the problem. Could you be Other Mav?” Susan asked in her overly bubbly exotic voice.
“No…I…fine, yes” Kamjin said defeated.
“Great, I have you authenticated Other Mav. I’ve updated your credentials to sync with your name and it’s all set,” Susan said.
“Synced to what name?” Kamjin asked after a moment of recognition of what horrible prank had been played.
“Is there anything else I can help you with Other Mav?” But before Kamjin could reply Susan had disconnected.
The troopers and Deck Officer’s comlinks beeped in unison as Kamjin’s face and arrival orders began to read out.
Idris would have liked to thank Rahjin for the sentiment but the growing alarm of the supposed new Justicar was escalating too quickly. Across the hangar, Idris eyed the new Deputy Grand Master pause. Even with a helmet on, he locked eyes, gave an acknowledging up-nod before beginning to pull up the Inquistorius’ files on this Other-Mav.
He approached still reading bits of the file.
“Other-Mav, born sixteen BBY on Alderaan – my condolences – to Tenjin and Sayuri Lap'lamiz.”
Boy that’s a mouthful.
“Species: Hutt,” he continued.
The Voice looked the very obviously humanoid male up and down.
“Congratulations you are the most attractive Hutt in the galaxy. We will get you a sash and crown.”
“What are you going on about?” Kamjin asked the approaching Voice.
“You are a Hutt. Officially. Inquisitorius records are always the most dependable, especially when it comes to our members,” The Voice replied, still looking the man up and down before continuing.
“I’ve met quite a few Hutts, you know. You should seek medical attention once you are done here, you are not half as slimy as a healthy Hutt should be. Don’t want our Justicar plopping dead on the job after all!”
“Give me that,” Kamjin snapped, grabbing the datapad from the Voice. He muttered to himself as he read the same information.
“Species: Hutt?” Kamjin looked up agap. “This is a horrible prank. Who did this?” Kamjin entered his new Justicar credentials searching for who edited the record. A large red banner appeared ‘Access Denied’.
“What do you mean Access Denied? Who could do this and cover there tracks?” Kamjin said to no one but noticed Idris staring at him.
“Look…I’m…I’m not a Hutt. I know it shows me as a Hutt here,” Kamjin showed the datapad back to Idris. “But I’m not a Hutt.”
“I had heard the Hutts were looking into some insane genetic modification research but this is beyond what I thought possible,” Idris said, grabbing his datapad back. He quickly input his own credentials to verify the integrity of the records.
“Yup. Confirmed by multiple sources, including an Alderaan Birth Certificate,” the Voice continued, grinning. “Those are very difficult to get a hold of these days as you can imagine.”
Idris closed the file and slid the datapad back in place.
“I’ll have E.D.I. make sure to update your environmental preferences for your office, and send word to the kitchens on your dietary restrictions.”
“You’ve clearly lost your senses,” Kamjin said, searching for someone, anyone to verify what their own eyes see. “I’m a man. A MAN!”
The Ascendant Drone that housed a portal node of E.D.I (Entire Database of the Inquistorius), floated into view.
“I have successfully updated the information regarding one Kamjin “Other-Mav” Lap’lamiz,” her synthetic voice cheerfully reported.
“Thank you E.D.I.,” Idris said.
“I also flagged several other related files that might be of interest including Jinkam (disambiguous), Project Blast-a-Door, and The Curse of the Nat One. The last one seems to be an old folktale superstition prominent from the Justicar’s place of birth,” she added.
Kamjin’s head was on a swivel between the droid and the Voice. “You can’t be serious. This must be some sort of prank.”
“Pranking is outside my scope of programming,” E.D.I replied sounding vaguely offended at the notion.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Kamjin said, pointing at the Voice. “I’m talking to him.”
“How dare you. Mr. Adenn is a professional, why as soon as he saw the species mismatch in our records he flagged it for correction!” E.D.I. said, synthetic voice rising.
“What in the galaxy made you think the error was that I was a Human? Do I look like a Hutt?” Kamjin completed forgot that he was ignoring the droid over the stupidity in its logic processors.
“If you would rather we change it back, that can certainly be arranged, however we would need a medical examination to verify your… Huttness as it is an official file,” E.D.I. said.
Idris cocked his head to the side and turned to Rajhin.
“I think maybe interjecting on his behalf was a bad move,” the Voice said.
“No. NO. If you interjecting can fix this then I need your help,” Kamjin said.
“We are trying,” Idris said, pulling his datapad back out.
“Are you, or aren’t you actually a Hutt?” he continued flatly, not even attempting his fake customer service tone. Idris noticed that the species had already been updated to more accurately reflect the new Justicar’s Human origins, just as E.D.I. had stated. However, if Kamjin was going to insist on staying a Hutt, Idris wasn’t going to argue with him.
“How can you be blind with a visor like that?” Kamjin’s composure cracked. “What do I look like you to?” Kamjin pulled back his hood and twirled in a slow circle to show off his limbs.
“A Human, which is what E.D.I. was explaining that you had been corrected to. But if you identify as a Hutt, I can respect that,” Idris said.
Zxyl shook his head.
“I don’t think there’s any need for a correction.”
“Why would I identify as a Hutt?”
“You just freaked out about E.D.I. correcting your file. Just trying to make sure it accurately reflects your needs. I mean just look at this beard that is piloting a fleshy mech!” Idris said, clapping Zxyl on the back. “It identifies as a Mandalorian and I have no issues with that. Guess I’m open-minded as hell,” The Voice added a slight melodic tune to his last sentence.
Kamjin looked between the two men in Mandalorian armor. “I don’t see it,” he said.
“Because like any good follower of the Way of the Mandalore, the beard is keeping its helmet on,” Idris replied.
“This is the way.”
“This is the way.”
“I meant I don’t see how that means I’m a Hutt or identify as a Hutt,” Kamjin said.
Kamjin tried to cover for the fact that he clearly didn’t get the beard reference as, as far as he knew, no Mandalorian had facial hair. Why would they given they never show their faces?
“Because you were labeled a Hutt, and when E.D.I. informed you it was being fixed you yelled at her. Though if you don’t identify as a Hutt, we will need to look into who forged these documents, including your Birth Certificate.”
The Mandalorian General rolled his eyes beneath his helmet.
“How many times does he need to explain this to you?”
Zxyl threw his hands up a bit, turning his head towards Idris.
“I can’t even.”
“Enough,” Kamjin’s eyes flashed yellow red for a moment before he took a deep breath. “Let’s start over. I’ve been authenticated as the Justicar. I’ve gotten my dossier corrected. I have my credentials set. So, Idris is right, the question left is whole modified my records?”
Zxyl put a hand on his hip, shaking his head… How could Kamjin not realize who it was. The person it always was.
“There is only one.”
“I regret my choices,” Thane remarked as he approached the gathered group from one of the side halls. He of course returned the nod to Idris from earlier.
“I’m not certain you’ve ever regretted something in your life,” Kamjin said, immediately recognizing the former Justicar and his former boss while he had been in the Chamber. “So this was your idea of a prank?”
The Firrerreo tilted his head with a hint of a curious expression. His black-gold eyes moved between Kamjin and Idris a few times before the puzzle pieces fell into place.
“I am unrelated,” he stated flatly.
Kamjin furrowed his brow. “If not you; then who?”
“The name does start with a ‘T’, but it is not Skotos.”
Kamjin looked at the Regent and suddenly it clicked. There’s only one person who would have access to Council datalinks and the motivate to pull such a prank. “Thran,” Kamjin said under his breath.
While he and his former Proconsul had played a dangerous game of public being adversarial and privately being cooperative it seems Thran wanted to ensure he had the last laugh and remind the new Councilor that he was always being watched.
“I need a drink. Is there a place here to get a drink or do you all just stand around in the hangar staring at explosives all day?”
“Sometimes we do both at the same time.”
Kamjin raised an eyebrow half expecting the droid to start making a cocktail for them.
“Oh you meant like right now. Right this moment drinking. Gonna be one of those days then,” Idris said. He turned to desk officer.
“You got what you need? Good.”
He turned back to his fellow Councilors.
“Were you done inspecting the boom booms or do we need to set an obstacle course to test them out before we can get a drink?”
Rajhin carefully put the equipment back where it belonged, “The weapons can get a thorough test in the Crucible, let’s go.”
“Pefect. Xesh II is already here,” he said, motioning to the Arx Capital Exchange Shuttle by the boxes. The Regent closed up the assorted boxes, motioning for the service droids to load the boxes back into the Xi-class Shuttle. It had enough room to bring all five of the Councilors and the new Royal Guard gear to the surface. To the Crucible .