Is That a Yes, Mr. Colar?

Rain. No place in the Galaxy Embriex knows does rain like DK. They used to say the storms over Dromund Kaas were the soggy breaths of the Emperor in his slumber. Now he’s dead, or redead, or whatever he is now because it’s hard to keep track. I guess the locals just have to admit the Sith Empire picked a soggy swamp as the seat of their Empire.

Emb is certain the Imperial higher-up see the rain as a metaphor for the Empire as a whole. The falling water washes away the grime and depravity they allow to exist. The murder. The betrayal. The Sith debauchery. Kaas is the Clean City. Immaculate. Tell that to those drowning in the streets from the corruption.

Down there in the puddles, Embriex is searching for one of the corrupt, depending on their loyalty. She’s searching for an informant. A friend, if you have enough credits. A womp-weasel with access she needs.

In the early morning, like any other time of day, the light struggles to penetrate the cloud barrier. Embriex lets herself wonder what the Empire would be if only the inhabitants of its capital could truly see a sunrise. The door to the room opens, and Embriex turns from facing the large blaster-proof window. A man steps in. He’s human. Short and stocky. His hair is graying and balding at the crown of his head. He has a face beginning to show wrinkles that suddenly twists to concern. “Who are you? What are you doing in my office?”

Embriex smiles warmly, attempting to be disarming. Her light eyes are gentle, and the low light in the room fails to capture her pale Echani skin. “I’m a friend, Mr. Colar. A friend in need.” She points to his desk, where a number of credit sticks are stacked.

The man follows the gesture, nodding. “Of course,” he says warmly. “It’s been a long time,” he pretends. “So long, I didn’t recognize you. Did you come for a social visit?” He walks to his desk and presses a button under the lip to seal the door and potentially scramble any listening devices.

“Do you know this person?” A quick motion from under the robes sends a device to the desk before Mr. Colar, which holoprojects the image of a human female coated in the tattoos. Mr. Colar tenses.

He reaches for his weapon, a blaster on his belt. As he draws, there is a flash of bright magenta, Embriex’s saber carving through the center of Mr. Colar’s weapon, just managing to allow him to keep his fingers. A metallic barrel falls to the floor. “Is that a yes, Mr. Colar?”

“You’re asking dangerous questions,” the man says as he looks at the fragment of blaster in his hand.

Embriex retracts her saber and places it on her belt. “Does this mean we can’t be friends?”

“You don’t have enough credits for me to tell you what I know. Do you know who she represents? They will kill me if they find out you even knew enough to ask. There is no place I can hide; they won’t track me.”

“You help them hide their money, Mr. Colar. The Six Sister Syndicate. I’m close to dismantling them.” She walks around the desk towards him.

“I won’t help you.” He attempts to adjust his posture, looking more confident.

The rain washes the gutters clean. What’s a little more blood in the street? She leaves the accountant’s office with another lead. Hopefully this time nearing one of the Six Sisters. 

Stepping into the rain, she hugs her cloak. She passes locals on their way to work. The streets are bustling in the early morning. Embriex moves among them, just another Sith in the rain.