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Shouldn't be too much trouble.

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Aron smiled<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

Old patron of the arts, you know.

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Aron couldn't stifle the yawn.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

Maybe I'll be a tad extra-careful.

(OOC: This was started before the current troubles, so they don't take effet here)

And what can you offer us, Supreme Commander, that we could not aquire on our own?

They sat in the luxerious office of the governor of Vortex. The man was seated across the massive desk, one made of an expensive wood that he suspected was very rare, and had a slight frown on his face.

Dxun Isstal shook his head, a small smile on his face.

What can we offer you? He repeated. Protection from your enemies. A stable government. A steady flow of essential resources.

This brought a smile to the other man.

(Will add more later)

<font color=green>Eighteen Months Later

So this is the world. A failed diplomatic mission. One of very few, I suspect. Very few indeed.

The shuttle was making its final descent through the leafy canopy of Vortex's rural jungle continent. It was here that, some years before, Admiral Ackbar had crashed a B-wing fighter into the massive Cathredal of Winds. Completely on accident, of course. But still a devestating blow to the planet.

The shuttle jerked slightly as it passed through a final layer of turbulence, and they were clear. The capital city of Vor was visible below them, a sprawling mass of wood and steel built into the native landscape.

Truly awe-inspiring.

"Sir, we're on final approach. The Prime Minister it waiting for you." He nodded.

"Thank you, pilot. Put her down smoothly." The man in the cockpit gave him a thumbs up and smiled.

"Will do, sir."

Within moments the craft was settled calmly on the landing platform. He emerged from the craft and blinked in the unfamilar sunlight. Sixteen days in hyperspace was not fun, not even travelling by way of a modified Star Destroyer.

It was a hot day on Vortex, and, he soon realized, his wool business suit was not very appropriate to the planet. This was made all the more obvious when the Prime Minister, one Tony Jacobson, emerged from the shaded part of the landing pad clad in a pair of shorts and simple t-shirt.

The Prime Minister cleared his throat and shook the man's hand.
"Welcome to Vortex, Mr. Ashar."