"Silent Reproaches"
By: Shrezade Anoran - Director of the Drogen Shipyards
NPC: Chran - Head of Security of the Drogen Shipyards
NPC: Hajne - Shrezade's personal secretary
Location: Shrezade's Office - Level 57, Drogen Shipyards
Date: Praeda 21, 4ABY
"I don't know what more you want, Shrezade. This month's report says that the shipyard's crimerate is down five percent."
"A coincidence, Chran," she replied dryly.
"Hardly, Reza. Since you enacted the bounty hunts, criminal activity has dropped considerably."
"Five percent is hardly considerable, Chran. Now, I hired you to be frank with me so stop exaggerating and tell me the truth: Are the bounty hunts going to work?"
Chran sighed deeply, a sound that was both disconcerting and agitating to Shrezade. She swiveled her chair around to face the vidcom and raised a warning eyebrow at Chran. He nodded slowly and raised a hand to stay the scathing remark threatening to spill from her lips. "It still needs more time, Reza. It's only been a month. Give it more time."
"Time, Chran? Those vile creatures have been inhabiting my station for long enough! I want them out." Shrezade groaned irritably, then pinched the bridge of her nose to ease the all too familiar pain in her head that pulled at her eyes and amplified her frustration. "I wish I could just hoard them all into the lower levels in droves, then depressurize the bloody place and eject those pathetic beings into space. Do you think that can be arranged, Chran," she asked sardonically.
Chran laughed. "Look at it this way, Reza: they give this place some much needed excitement and even a bit of character. Do you think we'd have so many visitors drawn here if this place's reputation weren't so renowned?"
"That's hardly much comfort, Chran," she said with a sour grin. She pushed a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and reclined back in her chair with a sigh. She knew she looked horribly, but she was used to it; it was to be expected of a person who hadn't slept in over a day. "We're pouring alot of money into this project," she began calmly. "I mean, am I going insane? Paying criminals to turn in other criminals..."
"You are risking the entire plan backfiring on you and we'd end up with more crime than we started out with."
"And don't forget turning our somewhat model citizens into mercenaries, tracking down the scum occupying their station and only getting themselves killed in the end. I really don't see any other option though."
Chran nodded his head pensively then threw his hands up in the air with a laugh. "We just gotta see it through then, Reza, until we figure out some way to rid the shipyards of them. After word spreads about what you're doing here with the bounty hunts, it might make this place less appealing to roving criminals looking for a place to set up operations. No one would be stupid enough to walk deliberately into a trap."
Shrezade laughed wryly and reached for her glass of aged Tolian brandy. "If they're stupid enough to mess with Shrezade Anoran, then they're stupid enough, period."
Chran muttered something to an unseen subject offscreen, then turned his attention back to Shrezade. "Look, I have a situation on Level 20. I gotta get going but, I want you to consider something. Why not go to Tarkin? Can you imagine how many Rebels we're unwittingly harbouring here? If you offer him a deal, say, designating suspected or known rebel sympathizers as criminals liable to the the same persecution under the station's laws as the rest of the scum--"
"He might just be willing to give us military and financial support we need for this campaign." Shrezade's lips curled into a malevolent, feral smile as she slowly sipped the amber liquid in her glass. "Chran...you're getting a raise."
"Why thanks, boss. I'll make sure to remind you of that the next time we have a meeting about my salary." Chran's green eyes twinkled as he laughed at Shrezade and gave her a mock salute. "Gotta run, Reza. Have a good day."
As Chran's face faded off the screen, Shrezade sighed and fell back against her chair. She glanced languidly at the chronometer on her desk and grimaced at the time. She'd missed yet another meeting with her advisors, but she didn't dwell on it too much. They were idiots and she only kept them around as a formality. Besides, they were perfect targets at which to direct her anger when it needed some unleashing, and they never failed to amuse her when they cowered in fear upon her entering a room.
It was important to assert her dominance to her employees, as well as the scum occupying her station. The bounty hunt campaign was merely another way to inspire fear in those criminals daring enough to step foot on her station and attempt to spread their lurid influence on her domain. She decried them at every opportunity, threatened them with sanctions and harsh punishments for violating her laws. It seemed only to spark defiance and provoke crime rather than quash it. The bounty hunts were just another desperate campaign meant to intimidate them and drive them off her station. Some days, she thought they were worse than the Rebel scum.
Shrezade tapped the button on her intercom aggressively. Her secretary quickly acknowledged her with an annoyingly cheerful greeting, which she cut short with an interjection. "Hajne, see if you can get into touch with one of Admiral Tarkin's advisors or attachées, and when you do, tell them Shrezade Anoran would like to arrange a personal meeting with the admiral. I don't want one of his assistants or ambassadors, I want a meeting with him directly. Make that very clear to them."
"Yes, Mrs. Anoran," the nasally voice of her secretary replied.
"And Hajne, I want you to order me another bottle of Tolian brandy. I'm running a bit low here." Without another word, Shrezade severed the link and pushed out of her chair. She straightened out her suit and readjusted her hair, packing it tightly into the bun she always arranged it in. With her head held high, Shrezade moved briskly from her office. Hajne called after her quickly, but she dismissed her with a languourous wave of her hand and continued onward.
Her morning strolls through the station were a routine, one she performed religiously. It was her way of securing her presence on the station and sending a message to the criminals that she was still there to make their lives difficult. The more practical reason was it helped her clear her mind and kept her level headed. In her job, she couldn't risk to be caught offguard or at anything less than her best. The criminals were waiting for a moment when she would slip up, a moment when they could pounce on her vulnerability and overrun her station. She had been trying to rid her station of them for years, but she knew her patience would help her succeed in the end. If she bided her time, she would find some loophole in the laws through which she could shove the pathetic criminals into space. When that time came, she would triumph in her victory.
Shrezade grimaced and gave a snort of disgust as she ran her finger through the dirt along the plating of the corridor wall. After her victory, she would have all the hull plating ripped away and replaced. Once her station was free physically of the scum, she would see to erasing the memory of their presence from it, down to every blood stain and smear of dirt. The station truly would be hers then, just as she always vowed it would be.