#watch me SHRUG. Do I look like I know what I'm doing? Nar.

[erodedauthenticity]

IMPORTANT  HEADCANONS  TO  CONSIDER  !

can  they  use  chopsticks     /    Not even in the slightest. Ahkmenrah brandishes chopsticks with a closed fist, much to the chagrin (or bewilderment) of fellow exhibits. The pharaoh is not often corrected in the usage of foreign materials and utensils. Leniency yields for the exhibits willing to try. Over time, he will adapt to new utensils, as he does with foreign languages and cultures.

what  do  they  do  when  they  can’t  sleep     /    Sleep is unnecessary for exhibits found in the museum, for that, it's easiest to describe what it's like when exhibits do sleep. While uncommon for Ahkmenrah to experience fatigue, he is still human. If it is imperative that he ‘rest’ prior to sunrise, he will opt to rest at the furthest corner of his exhibit closely guarded by Anubis.

what  would  they  impulse  buy  at  the  grocery  store     /    With quarters in hand, Ahkmenrah redefines the nature of an impulse buy. He is inherently drawn to what is blue or silver in color. Vibrancy attracts, and his fixation to modern ‘relics’ rivals that of a child. When outside, there is always something to be experienced for the first time. 

what  order  do  they  wash  things  in  the  shower     /    Ahkmenrah is not at all familiar with showers. In life, the pharaoh was far more accustomed to wash basins.   Ahkmenrah’s life ends each sunrise and he is restored each sunset. Showers are no longer a necessity for the exhibits. If there is a need to clean himself after spending hours outside of his ‘kingdom’, Ahkmenrah will fetch a damp trifold towel and wipe himself down. 

what’s  their  coffee  order     /  There is no greater joy in asking for ‘everything’! He can’t afford it. All the same, coffee isn’t particularly enjoyed, but he will drink it- depending on how enthusiastic someone is when showing him the beverage

what  sort  of  apps  would  they  have  on  their  smartphone     /    Following a lesson of how to operate the modern device, Ahkmenrah has downloaded every app available. He doesn’t know how to operate any of them, but they are aesthetically pleasing.

how  do  they  act  around  children     /   it was never asked of him to tend to children, and his disposition is unchanging when in the company of adults or children. He treats them as he would any subject of his kingdom. (this can be a good or bad thing, depending on the subjects in question.) He’s prone to discussing complicated terms or reflecting on something morbid.  

what  would  they  watch  on  tv  when  they’re  bored  and  nothing  they  really  like  is  on      /   Kardashians. There is only the Kardashians.  In truth, he is prone to watching anything, everything is entertaining to someone newly acquainted to the television.

[the-baddest-of-batches]

Dar'Aliit: Chapter Nineteen - The Name of the Peace (Part 2)

18 BBY Krayt Bridge

"Two of them. They're hiding out on Nar Shadda." I toss the disk on the desk.

Admiral Rent looks up at me. He arches an eyebrow. "Impressive results, Lieutenant."

The rank stuck. I don't know why. At least the Admiral hears out my request to work alone. In fact he's heard out many of my requests ever since I walked into his office and told him I wasn't going to plant my shebs on a barstool until the Empire decided to throw me out. He might be a bureaucrat, but he's a solid man with a solid head on his shoulders. And he understands the value I have to the Empire, unlike some.

I shrug. "All in a days work, sir."

'You've located fifteen rogue Jedi, Lieutenant. I would hardly call that a days work." The Admiral picks up the disk. "If this information proves useful, we shall certainly be requiring more of your efforts. In fact, I could quite see you on track to become someone working directly for the Grand Admiral."

I can't tell him that I don't care. It doesn't matter where I'm shuffled off to, I just want to serve the universe and its new Empire. This time we might really have a chance to bring peace. To protect.

"Thank you, sir," is all I say aloud, though.

"You are dismissed, Lieutenant."

I nod and turn to leave. Kamino is gone, but Coruscant feels like home. The Jedi still run rampant, running from their inevitable demise. They're all traitors. Every last one of them.

My quarters wait for me, quiet now. Headshot got his retirement a year ago after the bill passed decommissioning most of the GAR. Only those who elected to stay did. I don't know if Booker went with him. He vanished one night, kind of like Raf. So it's just me now.

I toggle the door and toss my helmet on the bed. There's new armor being circulated. I don't care. I know what serves me well, and it's this old kit decked in white and red.

I sit on the bed and stretch out my neck. Crawling through vent ducts is not the most comfortable method of snooping. I'd do it again, though.

Laying down, I fold my hands behind my head and close my eyes. The edge of sleep washes over my senses and then I hear the chime of another summons. Groggy, I sit up, rub my eyes, and blink before standing up. I snag my helmet and drag my body back out into the hall. As I march back toward the Admiral's office I notice the troopers outside. They aren't dressed like me. They look–newer.

And they're all looking at me.

I manage a tired salute. They split aside one by one and the door slides open for me.

"Sir, is something–" I pause as I step into the room only to find I'm not the only occupant.

"Lieutenant," the Admiral steeples his hands. "Forgive the immediate turnaround, but the Moff has arrived early." He turns to the wizened old man who stands to one side. His uniform is stiffer, well pressed, and his eyes watch me with the sharpness of a man who has seen war, and has won it.

"Lieutenant, I've heard of your accolades." The Moff nods his head slowly. His hair is only grey at the ends. I don't know his name and I can only nod back. Discomfort settles in my stomach.

"It's just my job, sir."

The sharp eyes take me in, every inch of me. I feel invaded, perhaps even mildly violated and I resist the urge to stiffen, as if a straight spine were enough to defend me from his analysis.

"I want you for a new unit we will be installing soon, Lieutenant. I am aware you have been working here on Coruscant for some time and have grown rather comfortable here, but I believe your talents are being squandered."

Talents? I keep my mouth shut.

The Moff turns to the Admiral. "I would like to present a formal request for transfer."

Admiral Rent almost scoffs and it becomes a sigh. This isn't a "request" , it's an order. He nods, however, resignation on his thin pressed lips. "Of course, Moff."

"Then it's settled. We shall process the transfer soon." The Moff turns and there's the hint of a smile on his features. I would describe it more of an elation, however, that only reaches his eyes. The look of a man who is victorious in some war no one else was aware they were fighting. I know it well.

"It will be a pleasure, Lieutenant. I shall forward the onboarding soon, and someone shall be sent to collect you."

"Yessir."

The Moff leaves briskly. The troopers with him and those outside march off and leave us alone. I turn to Admiral Rent.

"I suppose a promotion was in your future," Rent admits, bleakly.

"It's for the peace of the universe," I say bluntly. I turn, my helmet gripped in my arm. Behind me, I can almost feel the sigh of resignation and disbelief at my words.

"Yes," Rent says quietly. "Peace."

#

4 BBY Cargo Bay

"I really wonder what's in that thing that everyone got so worked up over it," Dross notes as the artifact we've retrieved is carried off by several workers taking great care in moving it.

I watch the coffin vanish from the cargo bay where it was relegated after our return. Sarcophagus is the proper name of it, although we strictly call it "the artifact" to keep its nature safe from prying ears. Wouldn't want anyone on the crew getting any ideas about grave robbing.

Course, I don't know what lies inside, but I know one thing, if it had fallen into the hands of those pirates or worse, the terrorists who were truly after it, this universe would be a lot different today. I can't fathom if it's power, or money that draws terrorists to come after such things. I only know that they will use such objects for one intent purpose: evil.

The fact we have it, makes the universe a safer place.

Zur and Dros walk with me back toward the temporary quarter's we've been assigned. Our flagship is still under construction, so for now, we will stay here. I follow behind the two with my helmet in hand but behind me I can hear the click of heels rapidly catching up.

"Captain," calls out a partly familiar voice. I turn back and see Myren rapidly gaining on the three of us. She holds a datapad close to her chest, dressed in a well pressed white ISB uniform. I slow and let her catch up.

"Something you need, Lieutenant?"

Myren straightens up as she falls in beside me. "I wanted to congratulate you on a successful mission actually. Also the Director wants to speak with you later."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Nothing too important, he simply wants you to meet someone." Myren glances over as a unit of crew passes by. "It will be someone important, however," she lowers her voice quietly. "I'd advise you to behave."

"Sounds like you're implying I don't," I mutter.

Myren looks sideways at me, her face a cold deadpan. "You don't."

I avoid her stare. "But I get my job done."

"That, so far, is your only good track record, Captain." Myren pauses when we reach the outside of the crew quarters. "1700, be there, please. On time, in uniform or," she glances at my armor, "in something proper, and on your best behavior."

Resigned, because I know I can't argue with Myren, I nod. "I'll try."

"You'll do it," Myren confirms.

"I'll be there," I sigh.

Myren sticks out the datapad she's holding. "A bit more information we gathered as well, for your reference. It's from the copied computer data R3 pulled and confirms that the pirates and civilians you eliminated had no connections with the artifact beyond transporting it, as we already knew. I sent all this information to your personal datapad, but I know you don't read the reports."

"You know too much about me." I glance up at Myren's deep red eyes as they judge me, only because they can. I take the datapad from her.

"That's my job," Myren says firmly. "Now do yours, Captain."

The way she says everything makes it sound almost like she cares, maybe a little more than an officer should. It's that hint of worry that's always lingering right behind her stoic glare, and in the back of her voice. I wonder why she cares.

But she's right, I have a job to do right now. And I've always done my job, and done it well. The peace of the universe depends on that.

Next chapter coming soon...6/13

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