Galactic Empire Embassy

Ambassador Silmarwen smiled politely for the sea of flashes as she hosted the President and a few of the representatives of the capitol in the garden for a ceremony of friendship. It had been decided back on Kuat that she would hold this reception and present them with some trinket of import that had come from the Emperor herself. Or something along those lines.

She could not stand the pruney faced people of this secluded rock but far be it from her to let anyone see her distaste for her assignment. Once a spy, she worked tirelessly for Dark Tide and then the fledgling Empire and thought her dedication would be rewarded with a promotion to Coruscant, to the viper's nest itself. Instead she found that she was sent to Dressel, a strategically irrelevant planet with a horrid species of aliens who preferred to keep to themselves unless you were waving free booze and food under their noses.

Being that she looked damn near human, she could not weasel a way overtly into the government of the wrinkled heads, but she could ingratitate herself with diplomacy. God, how she hated diplomacy. Her delicately pointed ears just peeked through the flowing curtain of her long black hair, marking her as 'other' but if she covered them up, she could pass. Thank goodness she had not inherited her mother's purple skin. Small miracles.

She suffered with a gracious attitude until the last of the media and politicians had been escorted out of the compound, then she stripped out of her formal robes and cloaked herself in something more suited to her other role. Handler. She may be waltzing and prancing for show, but if she was going to be given this heinous job, she might as well do it properly so she would not have to explain her impertinence to the Emperor.

A tactical suit and boots later, she was down in the command room, behind the console of her best tech, a master slicer named Dawson Gildan, Dawg for short. Dawg had been a freelancer and technically still was, although dedication in recent years to the exploits of Sinistra kept him on the payroll fulltime. Silmarwen never fully trusted Dawg, but then again, she was a spy. She never trusted anyone.

Dawg was pouring over everything they managed to record that afternoon through various listening devices and hidden cameras that had been installed by the Empire in the facility. Dawg chuckled quietly to himself as he lit up another cigarette.

"What's the story?" Stopped behind his chair with crossed arms, she waited for an answer from the man.

"Looks like the Republic sent a delegation to the Capitol building. Some of the junior members of the legislature are upset that they were not invited to tea at the Embassy here." Dawg pulled up the video of the two aides whispering among themselves as their senators lampooned for the cameras of the nightly news.

"We'll that's too bad for them. So the Ambassador went right for the capitol. Interesting. Any word on who they sent?" She uncrossed her arms, letting her hands rest on her hips as she looked back and forth between the massive screens where Dawg added intel to the dossiers of everyone who had been at the Embassy that day.

"Not yet, but soon. Any word on the carrot yet?" Dawg didn't look up but he knew she wouldn't give him an answer just yet. The President had talked commerce and trade, really the only things Dressel had going for it. Silmarwen was to tour the marketplace soon, and possibly unveil a new manufacturing venture that could possibly call Dressel home but the details were still fuzzy. There were many industries that the Empire had a finger in. It could be anything from cookware to warships.

"Make sure the boys sweep the market good. I want no foul ups. Cameras and bugs everywhere. If someone sneezes in the market, I want people on Kuat to bless them."

"Yes, Ambassador." He loved to piss her off. She turned and headed for the private office she kept on these lower floors.