Jacen Nelar left his quarters at 10:00P.M. for the meeting. They were good accommodations, the heart of the empire knew how to house itís guests. Big banners hanging next to 12ft windows, rooms with five beds and personal bathing pools, well, you get the idea. But, Jacen was sure, another ninja assasin had tried to get in last night. Good thing he kept heavy security wherever he went. It was how he survived as long as he did. Ah, well, his guards would report to him later. But he was cutting it close, he had to get to the grand hall.
All the representatives in the empire were assembled in the grand hall, finding their seats as the flag procession went on below, where the diplomats sat. The meeting soon started, but Jacen Nelar paid little attention. If something important happened, he would hear, he had a good ear for relevant business.
No one was paying much attention to him, so he took out a sketchpad and continued making plans for his raid on the Imperius outpost. They were raiding it because it was blocking important Merkan passage. It was on their turf. D*** Imperious, what did they know about taming the backcountry? He could kill all the guards there, or he could make it look like and Insectoid attackÖ he just wanted the Imperious off of Merkan soil, now.
About an hour into the meeting, Jacenís ears pricked up, and he stashed his sketchpad. Something important was being announced. Ah, yes, and it was exactly what he had been waiting for. He didnít often come to these meeting, after all.
The Council was determining whether to maybe split the territories tax and stock franchises. Merkan was the most separated, and they would take the least of any repercussions of this economical or political. He was here to make sure the bill got passed.
Hmm, Kanis was oh so graciously supporting the bill. But then Tarim was convinced it would mean disaster. Tyrpical. But by the time Jacen put in his piece, it was obvious Merkan taxes were safe.
"The beauty and genius of a work of film
may be reconceived, though its first material expression be destroyed; a vanished fiction
may yet again inspire the screenplay-writer
; but when the last individual of a race of living directors, of artists,
breathes no more, another heaven and another earth must pass before such a one can be again." -William Beebe, modified in memorial of the twentieth century
Su'cuy, vod, kar'laylirdarasuum me'suum!
Star Wars: The Plastic Director's Cut!