Naboo's Open Terrain

Amini leaned back from her personal minicomputer with a noise that sounded across from a sigh and a growl.She'd spent nearly every waking moment trying to trace Tuoni for a week with no success. Not so much as a hint or a trace of him existed. All she needed was a planet, or even a system, to direct where she needed to go next to find him, this nearly impartial outsider to all this history she was attempting to track. At this rate she would never find him. But who could?

Her train of thought was interrupted when a human male walked into the seaside cantina. Amini wouldn't normally pay him a second glance except that anger and frustration shot out of him in clear waves, his emotional state far more heightened than anyone else in her scope. Curious and looking for a distraction, she pried a little more. It wasn't difficult. He paid for a ship and the seller was keeping both this man's money and ship. He needed someone to help him heist it back so he could head to -

She sat up straight in her chair, an idea forming in her mind. A few minutes later, she shoved her minicomputer in her bag and beelined to the newcomer, slinking into the barstool beside him as he tossed back whiskey. Her blue eyes studied him. He wasn't dirty, but wasn't clean. A few lines indented his face and there were dark circles under his eyes. Aside from that, he was rather plain and nondescript. But more importantly, through the anger, she could sense he was a good sort of person. And that's really all she tried to travel with...it was easier that way.

You looking to hire or be hired? she asked directly, not giving away what she ciphered.

Her red mouth widened into an easy smile that was only partially fabricated and showed no teeth. Vasti. she lied smoothly. She never used her real name, more out of disdain than fear of recognition. Her family was ancient history that no one cared about anymore...except perhaps the dark presence that loomed. Besides, she liked her maternal grandmother's name far better than her paternal grandmother's name whom she was named after.

She tilt her head, her dark curls shifting with the movement and her eyes never leaving the man. The bartender, just noticing her, sidled up. Can I get you something to drink, dear? he asked with kind familiarity. "Vasti" had frequently the place often within her 3 month stay, the whole staff knew her. She turned her smile upon him briefly. I don't know, Pod. She glanced back to the man beside her. Can he? she asked him inquisitively. Or were we leaving?

Her eyes narrowed in the smallest of smirks at his question. Instead of answering him, she cupped the mug Pod gave her in both hands, taking a sip of the hot mulled wine. Naboo was quickly entering it's winter season and she had been ordering the delicious drink regularly the past month. Flint, eh? she responded, staring into her mug. Corellian, are you? She thought she could tell a slight accent, and the thoughts his mind jumped to confirmed it. She nodded. And by the look of you, I'd say you're...what, ex-Corellian forces of some kind? She smiled at his guarded, yet confused, expression as his thoughts confirmed her assumptions. No, I'm not an enforcer from Skink. I work alone and only with good people, and I'd say you fit that bill. I need safe and secure transport to Zeltros, and I know that's where you're headed too. To pay for my passage, I'm happy to help you secure back the ship you rightly paid for from Skink. She swiveled in the barstool to face him. All I want is secure passage to Zeltros. she repeated. Nothing more. I'll take off as soon as we arrive.

She glanced at the the booths in the back he gestured to with a smile and shake of her head. No time for that. she said, popping off her barstool and dropping a few creds on the bar. She quickly slipped her backpack on before nudging by Flint to the exit. We need to go now, before any bad actors show up. We can talk on the way.

While she didn't sense any danger, she wasn't going to take any risks. She learned enough about Skink in her brief time on Naboo to know this was a time-sensitive job if the Corellian really wanted his ship back. Besides, all the belongings she really needed were in her backpack and on her person, there was no need to return to her lodging. She was ready to move on from Naboo. The shadowy presence seemed to agree. She didn't like that. After a quick glance back at Flint, her blue eyes locking with his hazel ones, Vasti strode purposefully through the Gungun's exit and into the cold, salty air.

Deep in the Gallo Mountains, in the tallest tower of his fortress, a man stood silently, his slitted, feline eyes gazing out through the transparisteel window at the construction works below. The city was coming along nicely, but there was much yet to be done. A thousand different infrastructure works had yet to be completed and a full third of the buildings were still covered in scaffolding. Even more work was taking place below the surface, for the city had been carved into the side of the mountain and most of it lay hidden from sight, protected by the million tons of rock above it. Still, for the first time since his people landed on this planet, their home was starting to look like something lived in, a permanent fixture upon this strange, alien world, each building a monument to the Kalidani triumph over nature.

A week ago, the third residential district had been completed and now the last of the temporary prefab shelters were being dismantled in the valley below, the last sections of the refugee camp abuzz with activity as people and trucks scurried about to their tasks. And up above in his tower, the warlord was pleased. And proud. His people had endured unspeakable horrors and hardship enough to destroy most cultures. Down below and all throughout New Selentia, there was not a single man, woman or child who had not lost someone during the Great War. Not a single person alive there that had not picked up a rifle and fought. Of the four billions, or so, which lived on Kalidan, a scant few millions survived. But the Kalidani were not most cultures. They were made of sterner stuff.

A knock on the door, followed by the cadenced clicking of a soldier's boots on the marble floor, interrupted the warlord's silent thoughts. The officer stopped, stood to attention and saluted, fist over heart as was the Kalidani custom. "Sir? Some new information from Theed," the officer spoke, holding out a datapad.

"Let me see," the warlord spoke, taking the offered device and reading through the columns of text appearing on the screen. "Anything new about this queen they elected?" he asked, his eyes still affixed to the datapad.

"Nothing beyond what we already have, sir," the officer reported. "Beyond some basic information, we have been unable to ascertain any details regarding her recent past, or any political connections she might have outside the planet."

"Hmm..." the warlord tapped his taloned finger on the desk. "It is rather interesting that so much about her past is this difficult to unearth," he said. "But I suppose we will know her measure soon enough."

"There is one recent development, sir," the officer continued. "As you can see, our spies in Theed report the arrival of a Jedi. Intercepted transmissions identify him as Garrek Kanos, homeworld Chandrila. His only known asset is a single starfighter identified as a TIE Hunter, confirmed by long range sensors from our fleet in orbit. Blackwatch is already working on a background check."

"Do we know the reason of his arrival?" the warlord asked.

"No, sir, not at the moment," the officer reported in a rather disappointed tone.

"Very well," said the warlord. "Keep our defenses on standard security protocols, then. And have our spies see what they can dig up, but keep it subtle. We do not want to alert Theed about our intelligence gathering activities just yet. For now, we wait and see."

"By your command, sir," the officer replied. "Are there any other orders, sir?"

"No, that would be all. You are dismissed," Tacitus replied pensively. The timing was certainly interesting, so soon before the new queen's scheduled diplomatic visit. Additional security, perhaps, or something else? Regardless, the warlord was not overly concerned. Despite the Kalidani nation's past encounters with their order, a single Jedi hardly posed a threat. And if it came to it, he could certainly be disposed of before the government in Theed could react. Regardless of what the Jedi's purpose was on Naboo, every piece remained on the board. And sooner or later, Theed would have to come to terms with the facts and accept that the Kalidani were here to stay, permanently.

New Selentia remained as immovable as the mountains it was built upon.

New Selentia's spaceport sat in a secluded valley, rimmed by tall ridges on either side, providing both protection and shade to the complex and acting as a cauldron trapping moisture within. As a result, the spaceport was most often shrouded in a layer of mist which added to its eerie appearance. The spaceport itself didn't have much in the way of aesthetic qualities. Just a collection of industrial facilities that had been designed purely for function and not for form, a mix of open landing pads and enclosed hangars laid out in a T-shape, adjoined by various administrative, maintenance and storage facilities.

Despite its remoteness, it was a relatively lively place, bustling with activity. Several ships were already landed, or in the process of landing or taking off, while personnel and droids were milling about, loading and unloading cargo, tending to maintenance procedures and filing paperwork while inspectors searched for contraband. Vehicles came and went like on a conveyor belt, one peculiarity being the rarity of speeders or other repulsorlift craft. Heavy-looking wheeled rovers and trucks were the norm, here and there was a striking variety of them driving around the spaceport.

Heavy defenses surrounded the perimeter, including several anti-air turrets and a number of armored vehicles equipped with anti-air weaponry and soldiers carrying missile launchers keeping a watchful eye from atop the guard towers. The Kalidani took their security very seriously.

Engine rumbling, an armored rover of some kind drove into the Nemesis' landing pad. It was clad in a grey camouflage pattern, weathered and chipped from use and bore the triskellion insignia of the Kalidani state. The brown-haired man who stepped out, was clad in a grey officer's uniform, bandoliers of pouches slung across his frame and a blaster pistol and sword clipped to his belt. He puffed from a cigarette as he walked.

"Baldr of Clan Wren?" he addressed the Mandalorian in the clear tone of someone who was used to being in charge. "I'm colonel Marcus Kraft, First Tank Battalion, here to discuss your contract. If you would follow me, we should take this discussion back to base," he said, pausing to take another puff from his cigarette before gesturing towards the rover. "Are there any personal effects or belongings you wish to bring with you?"

The drive to the military base was short, as the highway they travelled on was built for much higher capacity than what was currently in use and military vehicles had their own dedicated lanes to drive along. To either side, rows upon rows of fortifications, lines of trenches, bunkers and platforms for artillery emplacements stretched out for what looked to be miles, as well as the occasional heavy turbolaser tower and missile emplacement meant to shred anything that incurred their wrath. Undoubtedly, these fortifications were linked by tunnels and passageways, allowing for the rapid deployment of troops from one sector to another. The formidable, layered defenses of the colony, were abuzz with activity as soldiers and vehicles milled about with precision and purpose, patrolling or manning various posts and carrying out constant drills to maintain their readiness.

Suddenly, the rover turned to the right and continued along a road that led to a larger fortification, one of several that were spread around the network of defenses, acting as hubs for the deployment of forces. From the opposite direction, a column of tanks and armored personnel carriers rolled past them towards some distant staging area, no doubt to take part in one of the many military drills that were a constant sight in New Selentia. The Kalidani were a people eternally on a war footing.

"It will be good to work with a professional, for once," the colonel said. "Most of the mercenaries we get in this part of the galaxy are amateurs who never set foot within a thousand lightyears of a real battlefield," he said, leaving out the part that most of those mercenaries hadn't lasted a week in the Kalidani military. Most had run off and deserted when put up in training exercises alongside Ultranauts.


"Usually, we receive applications from Jedi rejects and other exiles, not Force-wielding Mandalorians," the colonel said as he drove through the gates of the fortress and parked the rover in an open hangar. "In fact, I've never heard of a Force-wielding Mandalorian before. Are there any others out there who might be interested in working here?"