Messy. Oh so messy. Deliciously messy. The chaos. The fire. The death.
Bounty hunters make for such fun assassins. Loud, in the open, and as obvious as possible to spread their name and reputation around.
A pity I need Amidala alive for now if I am going to manipulate my future apprentice into position. This fiery display would have been a very satisfying end to the annoying twit.
Needs must come before pleasure though. That Jedi girl has gained far too much influence over Anakin. Influence that can be replaced with a relationship to a non-Jedi girl who I can eliminate at my convenience. A non-Jedi who already thinks we are on the same side and who Anakin already admires.
There is the boy now. Along with his cockroach of a Master. I keep having Kenobi sent off on missions that should kill him and leave Anakin more vulnerable, but he keeps coming back. Soon though, his luck will run out and he will fall and Anakin will be mine.
Likely they will begin investigating the assassination attempt, only to be foiled by my insurance policy. I will have to keep a close eye on how things progress to ensure events proceed accordingly.
—-
Meetings were an annoyingly common part of business. Typically, meetings involved a lot of talking, arguing over the fine details, and presentations. The Ryloth Revival Venture as it was being called in the media was not typical.
The people involved were a strange lot and the representative from the Trade Federation kept bringing in experts that made the people ever stranger, but Gob'leif was not a Twi'lek to judge.
Gob'leif was the current owner of the only construction company on Ryloth that managed to stay in business for ten generations. The oldest and biggest name in the game on the backwater planet.
It was this long expertise that had afforded her the privilege to explain exactly how much it would cost to build the casino they wanted. The materials, the labor, the hazard pay, and the architectural designs.
Three years of construction later with increasingly generous payments and the casino was almost ready to open. Three years of her workers getting lucrative bonuses for meeting goals. Three years and a new contract at the ready to keep building in the area, regardless of whether or not the buildings get filled.
The one condition being the first building was to be a Temple. Gob'leif asked about that. The Trade Federation's Viceroy explained that it was for the Jedi who initiated this venture.
That explanation felt flimsy coming from the Neimoidian. The Viceroy might seem calmer and more careful with his words, but Gob'leif knew that the cowardly anger was still there. The slimy looking, noseless bugs were all the same, a bunch of greedy, self serving cretins. Just because this one grew a brain didn't change anything.
Well, it was time to start the meeting with the Viceroy's local contact.
—-
Ral'ziti was a strong man. One had to be in order to survive in the wilds of Ryloth. After the experience a few years ago things began to change. His arms were marked by a pair of shimmering gold handprints. One that rewarded him for certain actions with a shot of pleasure. The other punishing with a jolt of pain.
Such things would be too much of a distraction in the wilds, resulting in Ral'ziti retiring from bring a guide and huntsman. Now he was Viceroy Nute Gunray's Personal Assistant for Ryloth. A cover for their real relationship and objective.
The experience years ago with that girl changed the two men. Nute was in denial, but Ral'ziti knew what had happened. A miracle. A divinely bestowed miracle. That was why Nute allowed Ral'ziti to take charge in building a temple to the nameless god that helped them.
And here he was, in a fancy meeting room at the top of a building designed for sin, built on good intentions, looking out to a forest getting clear cut to make room for a city of hope.
The door opened and a short, green figure walked in. Gob'leif was a short woman, barely reaching Ral'ziti's chest. What Gob'leif lacked in height though, she made up for in curves. In Twi'lek culture, the ideal figure was not that of the slim dancers most species took as slaves. For Twi'leks, beauty was in a wide figure. The figure of someone well fed and able to enjoy an easy life.
To Ral'ziti, Gob'leif was gorgeous. Not only was she wide with generous proportions, but if his eyes did not deceive him, under that soft fat was muscle. She was not just beautiful, but strong and would challenge him.
The prickling coming from his left arm was an annoying reminder that the nameless god did not appear to like such contemplation. Better to get this meeting started.
—-
Gob'leif was not terribly impressed with the contact. A muscle headed fool who clearly thought with his fists if the scars were any indication. And that smug smile told her plenty about where his eyes were located.
Men and their obsession with her long lekku. Some days they were more of a pain than they seemed to be worth. At least wrapping the head tails around her neck kept them out of the way.
Well, if that was the kind of man he was, then Gob'leif knew how to handle him. A firm hand that left no room for back talk.
"You are the contact for the Trade Federation?"
"Yes I am," his drawl was slow and a clear sign this meeting would take longer than necessary.
"Fine. I got four designs for the temple. Do you have the authority to make the decision or will I have to wait?"
"The Viceroy gave me the freedom to make whatever decisions necessary for the temple."
Gob'leif was pleased. She could get the designs finalized and begin construction. The sooner her company was able to finish, the sooner they could get paid for the next job.
"The first design is the cheapest. As you can see, it is a one story building with a long central hall and over here are the administration and maintenance offices."
The holographic design was on a puck Gob'leif pulled out of her bag. The design was very industrial and practical for a temple and was included primarily for the Nemoidian's cheapness. If they were doing this to honor a contractual agreement, this would do the job and no more.
"No."
The quick decision surprised Gob'leif. Normally people looked over the options and compared the budgets before making a decision. Well, it wasn't her job on the line if the Nemoidian found the price too high.
Placing the rest of the pucks on the table, Gob'leif began to explain the remaining three.
"Show me that one," the representative said, pointing to one of the pucks.
"Alright. We call this the monastery design. As you can see it is several stories tall. In this main area is a large central hall for ceremonies and prayers or whatever worship the temple will be used for. Above the hall is various rooms that can be fitted out at a later date. Over to the side in this extension is the administrative facilities. In the back we have three dormitories and a greenhouse, each with a small outdoors area separating them. And this large area is to be either a tranquility garden or a small farm to help feed the residents."
The hologram showed off a hand shaped building. The palm contained a two story main hall with two further stories of rooms not yet given purpose. The thumb was a two story administration wing. Behind the administration wing was a large field of grass that butted up to the index finger, a long greenhouse divided into two sections. There was a strip of grass in between each of the fingers with each of the remaining three being three stories dormitories.
"That one will do well."
Looking at the intense way the representative was looking at the holographic design and noticing the gold hands on his arms, Gob'leif realized she was being left out of something. Well, as long as her company gets paid accordingly, she would not dig her nose into it.
"Alright. Let's talk details then. As you can see there is a lot of specifics we still need to pin down..."
The pair of green Twi'leks continued their discussions late into the evening.
—-
The explosion rocked the ship, sending Padme tumbling back hard. She did not know what she hit, but when she came to it was in the arms of a vaguely familiar young man with a padawan braid.
His mouth was moving, but she could only hear a buzzing noise. She tried to speak. The young man looked like he was responding, but to what? What did Padme say?
Oh, he is helping her up. And there goes the world, spinning out of control. The young man was a tree to lean on. Hard, stable, and rooted in place.
Oh look, the floor is rising to say hello to Padme.
The young man stopped the floor. Wait, no, he stopped Padme's fall and was holding her in his arms.
The ringing in her ears was aggravating Padme's headache. Were they flying now?
Right, Padme has a concussion. That's it. It is a hallucination from the concussion that makes it seem like she is flying. At least she has a tree to hold onto.