Unlikely Participants

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Walkar, The Governor's Palace
The following day...
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A parade of sky vehicles formed a long line outside the landing platform to the Governor's Palace as negotiations were to begin. Although he couldn't see it, way down below supporters had amassed to encourage independence by waving flags and shouting, We'll pay the tax! Get off our backs! Chucking at the damned irony of it all, he straightened his robe and prepared to greet his guests.

At the door, he nearly ran into his assistant. Bad news, sir.

What is it? he roared.

The Healers. Forcing out a heavy breath, he clenched his fists and stomped out of his office toward the lift. Where are they? It's probably that angelic little whore, Ruebyn, he muttered.

On the way down, M'ztka reminded himself that patience would reap greater reward in the future. Like money in the bank or interest, he thought.

Why do the gods torment me with such pestilence? he verbalized as the two exited to the main receiving hall.

Instantly he was confronted with an onslaught of attention from the gathered guests. Yes, thank you for coming. So nice to see you... etc.... were exchanged as he touched hands with the investors, trying to inconspicuously weave his way through the crowd to a side door. Thankfully, the loudspeaker announced it was time to begin and the hoard wandered to the conference hall.

Slipping in silently and making certain the door was locked behind him, he greeted the lone Healer with annoyed sarcasm. I see you've come to support our thriving planet.

Ruebyn rose to the challenge, As a matter of fact, I have. I've come to represent the Simmians.

We already have an OASR affiliate, he snapped smugly, one step ahead of her.

Surprised that he'd allow that much, Ruebyn suggested a different route. Observance only then.

I'm sorry, it's by invitation only.

We could request official presence by the Council in which you'll be required to report.

Fine. It will takes months to be approved and by that time, this situation will be resolved. I have a mind to have you removed for interfering with politics. The Jedi are strict with policies, are they not?

You've all but entirely banned us from helping the Simmians as is.

And if it were up to me, I'd have you and your little rebellious clan shipped off planet long ago. As it is, we will just have to tolerate each other's presence. Whirling around, he had Ruebyn escorted back to the clinic.


*

Heading back to his guests, M'ztka weaved his way through the crowd mumbling curses under his breath. On the way to the stage, he nodded to Jedi Obi-Wan, Kiltma, and Chlak who occupied the center table. His nostrils flared momentarily seeing Trafalgar's place empty, but expected the minor setback. Maybe his father will see what a ridiculous move it was to send him in the first place, he sneered.

Rising to the podium, he looked over the familiar faces of the crowd. The richest men in Bonadan were here, all to support him. Stilling his trembling hands, he cleared his throat. Good Afternoon. It's wonderful to see so many patrons gathered in one place to support our precious planet. Today, you'll be given the opportunity to meet our core team of negotiators as well as listen to a number of guest speakers who will be sharing their vision of Bonadan's future. To begin, let me introduce our most esteemed officiates.

Kiltma's forehead paled to a shiny white, and Obi-Wan noticed a shortness of breath overtake the large humanoid as he scrambled up the stage. Chlak, on the other's heal, folded in his formal vest with a flat palm against his chest and scurried up to his place. Obi-Wan revealed little effort to hurry his way up the stage, but rather cleanly stepped in place aside the other two.

Looking out at the audience, Obi-Wan sensed a sweeping skepticism that shone in the squinted eyes of the guests. Their single-mindedness towards business left him with an eerie sensation as to what such unchecked power could do. A driving force, their communal presence held the balance of the Republic's economy in their palm. Before today, he hadn't quite realized the collective impact one system could have upon another. It wasn't only their own system that would suffer, but many.

Obi-Wan rocked back on his heals inconspicuously, his right hand clutching his left wrist, and turned his attention back to M'ztka.

After being introduced, the three foreigners took their seats on the stage for an open forum. M'ztka took questions from the crowd while the three took turns addressing them.

As a jumble of hands went up in the crowd, the three looked back and forth at each other with quick breaths and a hopelessly dry mouth.

Did he say anything to you about this? He didn't say anything to me about this. Chlak chattered away to Kiltma, who bobbed his head back and forth with wide eyes.

Calm down, Obi-Wan whispered, even though he, too, found the tactic was rather intimidating. Be vague. Don't give too much information.

Billo, what can we do for you?

A rather short man stood up. Why is the Senate targeting Bonadan when there are many other systems using slave labor as well? The group tapped on their glasses to show support.

Excellent question, Billo. I'll hand that over to you, Kiltma. His face seemed to crease into a grinch-like grin as his arm opened towards the three.

Beads of sweat dripped off Kiltma's smooth, hairless head. Dabbing them off with a handkerchief, he began unsteadily. I'd first like to say the Senate recognizes and appreciates your contributions to the Republic and far beyond.... he gasped.

Because Bonadan is so, how shall I say it, prosperous and respected as a financial leader throughout the Republic, your high profile demands that we exhibit consistency across the board.

Mumbles about consistency erupted in stifled sarcastic whispers. Looking for salvation, Kiltma added quickly, nearly choking: Of course, there are many options for finding a suitable compromise, some of which include rewriting the Charter that incited this whole mess.

The Governor smiled in triumph as though he knew the representatives would cave at the first sight of intimidation. The crowd nodded heads and tapped their glasses, Now there's a solution.

Fidgeting with his fingers, Kiltma looked to both his peers with a fear stricken expression. Obi-Wan could not let this crowd walk away believing that the Republic was offering that course as an option. Taking it upon himself to amend the situation, he spoke up. I think what Kiltma means to say, is that there are number of actions that the Republic may take. As for why they targeted Bonadan first, it is because unlike other slaving planets, you have threatened to secede.

This is coming along swimmingly, the Governor thought to himself as the crowd once again became incensed.

Obi-Wan, however, did not flinch, nor did he seem at all uncomfortable with the situation. A crowd of faces drilled M'ztka, who quickly moved onto the next question. Anyone else? Thank you Jen. Go ahead.

If the OASR knows we have no intention of losing our labor, why are you here?

Chlak straightened up and cleared his throat. We understand the very core of your business depends upon slave labor. Therefore, we plan to offer a viable alternative to your current system that promises an equal or higher yield. It was odd to see Chlak use such formal language as it was not generally his way of communicating.

Very well. What have you got? someone shouted from the audience.

The OASR is currently discussing the options on Alderaan and they will report in a week to make the offer.

Obi-Wan nodded in affirmation to Chlak who sunk back into his chair drained and pale.

After an hour of verbal beatings, the inquiries seemed depleted, and the group was invited to a private room where they would recline while the investors discussed their options. When they were sure the outsiders had exited, they real debate began.

M'ztka. You know we can't secede. The publicity alone is compromising our contracts. As it stands, we're already feeling the pinch from systems that support the OASR and are quietly being urged to buy from other sources.

One of my major clients have already broken their contract claiming pressure from the Republic.

That's bantha poodoo. You just don't know how to run a business.

I am well aware of the situation, Jeddeze! However, the fact of the matter remains that the Republic is infringing on our essential right for self-government.

But if we actually secede, no one will do business with us. We'll lose everything.

That's not entirely true. Not if we could convince other slaving systems to do it with us.

Like who? No one is willing to go up against the Republic.

Not anyone with an ounce of brains anyway. M'ztka glared at the speaker of this comment.


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Meanwhile, at another table
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And what of our representative? What does he have to say to all of this? Face it, your son is not the sharpest tool in the shed. Are you certain he can handle this? Relvaire's CEO stared at Leopold Trafalgar.

Huffing to himself, he looked up from his glass of sherry. I'll let that comment slide. M'ztka will be the cause of Bonadan's downfall. Let him drown in his own mistakes.

You're awfully confidant that M'ztka will fail in his attempt at secession.

A long pause of implication ensued. That's not really the issue.

They think it is. Relvaire's man nodded to the audience of investors.

Do you really think they will allow him to secede? But he knows, that to the Republic, we don't hold any other card.

Agreeing with his old friend, Relvaire stared up at the ceiling, thinking aloud. What's the worst the Republic could do, anyway, if we choose not to give up our slave labor? They don't have an interstellar army. So they couldn't possibly threaten us physically. I suppose they could tax or fine systems that do business with us, but I think we could convince them to stay- with your little project in gear.

A harsh glance from Leopold caused an immediate change in topic. That's not an appropriate topic right now.

So the fact of the matter is, they can't do anything if we refuse. Think of the consequences if they did. Galactic Economic Depression. Half the galaxy would starve, and the Republic doesn't want to have to pick up those pieces. It would be much too expensive.

As if barely listening, Leopold breathed out heavily. That man will get us nowhere. Looking back down at his glass, he sighed again. No matter, this situation will not be resolved in our lifetime.

What makes you think that?

These things always take years to work out. That's why I appointed Trafalgar.

Oh, please, Leo. He's just not meant for this kind of work. What about your daughter, Fianat? Is she here today?

Waving him off, he sighed. It's not the same. I don't want her mingled up in all this. She's got the children, you know.

Oh yes. But she's earned quite a name for herself recently. She donated a significant sum to us after the Nimitz incident.

How generous of her to bail you out.

He chuckled. I'm telling you, she could get some real work done around here. She's quite persuasive, you know.

Leopold rolled his eyes thinking back to how often he'd spoiled her. I think manipulative is the word.


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Walkar
Clinic
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Elia's heart pounded as she neared the clinic yet the distance seemed to grow longer and longer with each step forward. Dawn changed the tone of the sky to a lighter gray, yet the chill remained, and all her heat was spent.

The pack had long since wandered off, the whole lot of them melted back into the night after the kill. Her place perhaps had been mistaken, for in the process she had been reminded she was not a predator by nature.


*****


The rush had been swift as the lead Selve attacked low. Jumping over the beast, she came up from behind and kicked out at its hind legs, tangling them. But the Selve was quick to recover, and leaped back into the attack.

Evading the lead Selve, she been able to dodge various attacks, but when it finally sunk its teeth into her forearm, it seemed to realize that this was not its proper course either. The other creatures were held at bay with the soothing peace of the Force, and with the reaper's speed, the Healer slashed through the animal's neck, ear to ear.

The female's jaw loosen its grip with death, and the girl unhooked her flesh from its teeth, careful not to rip it further. Lifting it gently, she swayed on her knees with the loss of blood, and scooted from beneath the weight of the beast. Laying back on the soft body of the Selve as if an intimate, she watched the miracle of healing begin and the flesh close up around the punctures on her arm.

Tears came on with guilt; nature could be so cruel, and she was just a much a part of the brutality.

The others crept in slowly, and she made no efforts to deter them. Forming a wide circle around her, they sniffed at her and the carcass laying next to each other on the earthen grasslands. Snuggling their wet noses into her hair, they licked at her face, then nudged the lifeless body of their leader. Sensing the presence of death, they howled as if in mourning, and slowly wandered off. As the last one glanced back on the horizon, it lifted its chin and hauntingly howled, then departed into morning.


*****

The Selve was immediately skinned in attempt to preserve the meat, abandoning the innards for scavengers. She'd brought a square fold out hatch to stretch the coat, as well as preserving salt that would speed the drying process of the leathery pelt. The body of the beast she placed in a sealed sack and hoisted it over her shoulder as she walked, while the pelt she dragged on the stretching hatch behind her from the waist.

Even though she followed the traditions just as she had been taught as a young child, they did not always yield the desired effect. Peace was not so easily achieved for those that carried so much guilt. If she had known a better way to let go of the events surrounding the Southeast Nimitz, she might have tried, but hunting was her way of paying her dues to the Unknown.

Pinching together her shoulder blades, she could sense the healing continuing where the canine had clawed into the flesh of her back. The initial pain was excruciating, but peace came knowing she deserved it. Struggling through the debilitation, she fought on, wondering if this would be her last hunt. She often wondered that, and sometimes hoped for it. At least in a death like that, she might obtain the honor of her Sisters, and they might forget the shameful things she had done in life.

The Simmians of the Southeast Nimitz died at her hands, not of natural causes. Who was she to play God, they demanded to know.

Forgiveness. And what did it matter if the All-Knowing forgave her if she could not forgive herself?

Sharing the ancient tradition of one's mothers was considered an honor and she prayed that her sacrifice would be made acceptable to them. Dathomir's matriarchal society was seeped in tradition, and when she felt overwhelmed or hopeless or just simply wanted to return to the earth, she reverted to her origins. She recalled Leonora teaching her of the hunt such that each ritualistic detail was ingrained in her character. Thus, when she finally reached the clinic, she knelt before the back door and thanked the Mother Goddess for her place amidst this cosmic cycle.

Throwing the pelt into the greenhouse where it would be protected, she dragged herself in through the back. Wavering for a moment next to her door, she passed it and forced herself to place the meat in the cooling unit hidden in the kitchen. Crossing the Common Area, she smiled at Thaum, stretched out asleep on the couch. The sight of him made her feel better. Exiting to the main hallway, she slipped into the Resident Quarters and looked around.

The Simmians slept in a peaceful stillness. Their whole lives spent in the chains of slavery, and yet they slept as if they had earned this unfettered peace. What would she have to do to earn such, she wondered. Exhaust began to take hold and shoulders slumping, her head fell into her hands with regret.


*****


Rolling over in bed, Elia looked at the chronometer. 6 S.T.. She'd slept the entirety of the day, a good twelve hours. Shuffling in her slippers to the kitchen, her stomach grumbled. Rummaging around in the shelves, she pulled out a box of crackers, when Tetre walked in. Jerking his neck back in surprise, he exclaimed, You're back!

Elia shrugged an affirmation reaching for the milk, deliberately avoiding eye contact. Nevertheless he took a moment to ask, Are you alright? The humanoid from Chandrila had an exotic dark look to him with light brown eyes, a burnt tone evenly playing over his well constructed frame, and black mess of hair.

She nodded. I feel better. Thanks for asking. He smiled at her warmly and went on with his business. I'll take a look at those wounds a little later, he added. She was about to resist, but heard a foreign voice in the other room.

Who's here? she asked, tagging along the box crackers, casually stuffing one into her mouth as she peered around the corner.

That's Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. Remember, Master Li'sarrow said he would be here to assist in the negotiations.

Elia hid her body behind the door frame, trying not to attract too much attention.

So she's awake. There was no fondness or sympathy in Meerpa's tone, although Tetre rebuked her quietly from the kitchen at her lack of tact.
Tetre brushed passed Elia with an arm full of condiments, while she waved timidly from a distance.

Kiana got up from the table and pulled her over to the visitor. You awoke just in time. This is Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi all the way from Coruscant. Kiana smiled brightly at the introduction.

This was Kiana's first assignment out of the Facility for Healer Enhancement as she had joined the group just a year ago and a half ago when she turned 18. An Elfin, her pointy ears, upturned nose, and petite features won her immediate adoration while her somewhat innocent and exceptionally sweet demeanor made all diligently protective of her. Adopting her like an orphan, the Healers doted on their new pet taking her under their wings and offering her many opportunities to enhance her cleaning skills as the lowest member on the totem pole.

Ruffling through the spiky mop of jet black hair, Meerpa rolled her beady eyes in annoyance as Kiana's eyes twinkled excitement. The blue skinned Lemura had little patience for formality as the guest stood courteously and bowed.

Shifting the box of crackers to under her left arm, Elia shook the proffered hand. She mumbled an apology as he rubbed his hands together, both foregoing any comment about the odd sensation and sat.

Claiming the only free chair, the furthest distance from their visitor, she faced the Jedi symmetrically, trying to understand what it was about him. His Force presence was different from the Healers though she couldn't quite place in what way.

Routinely polite, she noticed he avoided all sincere interaction with a cautious eye. He is here to see if what M'ztka says of us is true, she surmised. Immediately disliking this subtle evasion of truth, she wondered if he were merely produced or just chose to omit personality from his character as a form of self-sacrifice. Silently scrutinizing his rather insolent comments, she listened to the political update with a grain of salt.


*

Thaum smiled observing Elia's subtle reactions to the post-supper conversation. A listener more than an active participant, the Dathomirian native stored away her thoughts and became invisible amidst the quickly shifting onslaught of inquiries for their new guest.

...Coruscant's as busy as it's always been with the addition of another building or two. The Senate is quite disturbed over these events.

So Huab decided to charter the Droid Initiative? It's been all over the Holonet. How do you feel something like that would fare here? Tetre wondered aloud.

Your Governor M'ztka is reluctant to change his ways. Greed does that to one.
Elia smirked, but the others, united in their similar adversary, smiled to themselves and stole looks across the table. They eagerly awaited for him to say more, but the words hung in the air neither confirmed or denied.

Recognizing he wasn't going to comment further, Kiana spoke up. I don't see how a living work force could possibly be more cost effective than droids.

For one, Meerpa bantered, with slaves, the laborers replenish themselves.

But the cost to replace faulty droids is minimal. They manufacture the parts here; they could put themselves back together, Tetre added.

I don't see how raising children could be considered more efficient than shipping in another batch of droids.

Well, the supplements given to the Simmians are next to nothing, and they start working at age six.

What about housing and food?

They think housing is a one time cost and food is shipped in from Balo under a contract from a subdivision of Tlaska, Inc. The Simmians diet is pretty sparse. Tutlre, a grain mush-

-that we've all grown so fond of-

And a few mineral capsules.

I'd be interested in viewing some of the facilities. Does one need to obtain a pass?

It's not that formal. One of us will take you down there.

Thank you, he nodded preoccupied with the mention of Tlaska. It seems they have their hands in everything, he surmised to himself, having previously misjudged the importance of their presence at the negotiations. He'd keep an eye out for them in the future.

So what's your personal opinion on this situation? Tetre inquired casually inhaling the last few drops of his beverage.

My feelings are irrelevant, but unfortunately, the Senate cannot challenge Bonadan without causing a chain reaction that will affect a great many others. The Jedi summed up the situation with an educated class, but Elia was far less trusting as he never did reveal his honest opinion about the matter.



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Coruscant
Palpatine's Offices
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Irritated at the OASR's audacity at their attempt to swing the Droid Initiative, Palpatine called together his closest staff members.

Although we obviously have nothing to fear, some of our investors are concerned about Huab's recent decision to adopt this experimental program called the Droid Initiative. Unfortunately, the evidence shows that droids are not the most cost effective or reliable form of labor. However, it seems Huab will need some convincing of this as well. Perhaps we can help them along. After all, we don't want to confuse systems about their loyalties.

Let's contact our friends at the manufacturing facility and check in on the quality of the product being designed. We wouldn't want them to receive faulty or miswired machinery. And we should also check on the transport arrangements. There could be some difficulty with the shipping lanes.

Confirm that the correct information is being published about the endeavor. We don't want to mislead other systems, as Huab has been mislead, into believing that droid labor can be successful.

Let it be said, and it was done. There was one other call that he had to make himself, though.


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Folklorum, Alderaan to Walkar, Bonadan
Transmission: Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan
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Obi-Wan had just gotten out of the fresher after a strenuous run and sunk into the front parlor's claw footed couch awaiting his master's call. His clean white tee and cotton drawstring pants hung cool against his warm body. Although his bare feet were still sticky with heat, at least they were free from the confines of his well worn multipurpose boots. Picking up a popdisk off the glass coffee table, he scrolled down the cover stories but soon tossed it aside in weariness. His legs ached slightly in a good way and he was eternally thankful for a moment of rest. Swinging his legs up, he stretched out the length of sofa and hooked his hands underneath his head. Closing his eyes, he could physically feel his feet throb with heat and decidedly propped them up on the armrest.

A pulsing tone woke him from his doze.

Sir, your caller is waiting, the droid announced redundantly stepping out of the shadows. Taking his time, Obi-Wan reached up for the ceiling in a long tall stretch before slugging to the small com room, his bare feet padding softly across the cushioned carpet.

Qui-Gon's image waited patiently on the wall screen and watched him cross in front of another couch, and plop down. Tired, my padawan?

Obi-Wan scrubbed his head quickly back and forth and then settled back into the overstuffed couch. Pulling out the elastic cinch in his ponytail, he scratched around the back of his head with a low rumbling sigh. Tossing the elastic onto the table in front of him, he kicked out his feet and rested them on its edge. Noticing Qui-Gon's clean shaven, presentable look and his still steaming cup of tea, he surmised it was still morning on Alderaan. How early is it there?

Early. I've been in contact with Master Li'sarrow, and she seems eager to speak with you about the situation there.

Mmm. I'll contact her in the morning. What's happening on Alderaan?

It seems accidents have been a little more than frequent. A great deal of apprehension is being created by small isolated incidents that have many worried. It seems we've had to delay the actual transition due to some unexpected technical difficulties.

Surrounding what?

Apparently, a batch of decoder boxes were faulty in a number of droids, and were recalled.

I heard about that on the holo. Over 2 million from 15 systems were recalled. Do you suspect foul play?

Likely, but its difficult to track. Mon Mothma believes once the public realizes they are being manipulated, they'll pull their investments and this nonsense will cease.

Don't you think she's giving the public a little too much credit at this point?

They seem assured they'll come around eventually.

And if they don't?

We'll deal with that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, be mindful. Intrigue knocks at the unsuspecting door. I'll see you in a week or so. May the Force be with you.

Slinking to his room, Obi-Wan crashed onto his bed, reluctantly letting go of the troubling conversation.



+++++++++++++++++
Hours later
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The droid, TC14, woke him nearly an hour before he would have chosen to get up himself. Master Li'sarrow is waiting to speak with you. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he dug into the corners of his eyes, wiping away the sleepers. Grunting, he sat up, still in a daze. Throwing on his brown robe, he shuffled to the com room, smoothing back his hair and clearing his voice.

Sorry to wake you Jedi Kenobi. I thought it was important that I contact you before you start the day. A lanky brunette, Master Healer Li'sarrow obviously felt bad about the intrusion.

No, Master Li'sarrow, I appreciate your contact, he croaked with the first words of the morning. Catching a yawn, he forced his mouth closed as she began.

I'm sending one of our healers to negotiations today. I need to forewarn you, though, that Governor M'ztka is none too fond of my decision, nor of the healers in general.

That seems to be the sentiment on their part as well.

So you've been to the clinic, then?

Healer Ruebyn invited me to dine with them a couple of days ago.

I assume you met Healer Elia. He squinted trying to think back. Healer Amelia may have been out when you arrived.

he nodded with remembrance. But I didn't really get a chance to speak with her.

I've chosen her to accompany you in the negotiations. I hope you might be able to greet her this morning at the Palace. There has been an inordinate amount of negative attention drawn to the healers after the events in the Southeast Nimitz, so I would appreciate any assistance you might be able to provide.

Of course, I'll do whatever I can. Forgive me for intruding, but what exactly happened in the Nimitz?

She nodded in thanks, sighing at the last question. I sent Healer Amelia out to Relvaire's slave quarters at the healer's bequest after a mining disaster. Nearly thirty Simmians suffered from radiation poisoning and were declined medical treatment for one reason for another. They were beyond the point of being able to travel, so I sent her out to them. She was unable to treat them, as expected, and they all died.

Relvaire filed a law suit against the healers claiming she had destroyed their property, and therefore owed a debt of over D5,000 ducats per slave.

Obi-Wan breathed out silently. What was the verdict?

It's still in dispute. I've been in close contact with Relvaire, but they're taking the case to the High Courts. Meanwhile, the healers have had to deal with an unprecedented amount of attention from the media and general populace. The Bondani think its ludicrous to stay where they aren't wanted, and believe its nothing more than a political ploy from the Senate to keep an eye on things.

However, the Jedi Council believes as long safety is not a concern, there is not enough cause for them to abandon the facility. As it is universally required of all planets to have health care available to its poor, the Senate agrees and will keep the clinic open.

I must also warn you that she is somewhat reluctant to participate. But she will do whatever needs to be done.

Do you think its a wise idea after what's occurred? Perhaps you could send out someone who's not so immediately involved in the situation?

She feels the nature of Bonadan; she will lead the way.

Very well. I will do all I can.

Thank you. I'll be in contact. May the Force be with you.

Gathering himself up, he considered the newly acquired information and made to prepare for the day.



+++++++++++++++++
Walkar
The Governor's Palace
+++++++++++++++++


The healer slipped by security hidden beneath the folds of a white robe into the lavish hotel, a mere speck in the glittering immensity. Craning her neck back, Elia bumbled forward slowly, overtaken by the beauty. The cavernous hall spread its wings towards the illusion of a dazzling sun lit sky. Crystalline gems dotted the air in a orbital rotation refracting the rays of brilliant color like whimsical lasers. Stretching up into an airy dome, the entrance seemed to make little impression to anyone except her. Whizzing past her on either side, the Bondani guests focused on an oblivion before them; ironically, she found this inhumane feature somewhat comforting.

Not sure where to go, she ambled over to a corner and fondled the elephantine leaves of an indoor gum tree as she surreptitiously spied the devil's den.

With a slow turn of her head, she scanned the area, hands still caressing the leaves, when a man dressed in a plain brown robe neared her from behind. She caught her breath in realization it was not security, but the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. Cringing in embarrassment for the unexpected visit, she stammered a good morning. He returned the greeting with a subtle nod, as if immediately in awareness of her sense of threat. Before she could ask, he explained his impeccable timing. Master Li'sarrow contacted me this morning that I should expect you.

I see, thank you. Her eyes darted across the floor in irritation and relief. Unimpressed by their first meeting last night, she was nonetheless eternally thankful for his presence.

Should I pay you the gold coin now, Charon? Although his frown did not ease, he did a doubletake at the comment, and changed the subject. We'll not begin for another forty-five minutes. Do you take tea?

Gently opening his palm in a polite gesture inviting her to lead the way, she stepped forward with a dull ache in her belly and a lack of direction.


*


Although Obi-Wan recognized Elia's unity with the Living Force was well developed, to what ends she used such connections remained to be exhibited, and he therefore regarded the healer with caution. And, although their rapport was yet impersonal, he sensed in her a reserved hostility and wasn't exactly sure what to make of it.

Distracted by this thought, he nearly missed the entrance way to the lifts where a throng of people exited to the main lobby. Clutching his elbow, she hid behind him as the group passed. An invisible shield went up around her, and he noticed her head fall, draping the folds of her white robe around her face.

Two hundred floors up they exited to an airy artificial verandah where she finally lifted back her hood. Now that he was able to see her face, his anxiety eased. After ordering a couple of simple breakfast teas from the serving droid, the Jedi explored the possibility that what he had originally taken as disinterest the other night, could have simply been caution as she exhibited now.

Interrupting his concentration, she leaned back against her chair and folded her arms across her chest. Undoubtedly the Governor will be pleased to see the healers involved.

The corner of his mouth twitched in a surprised smile at the unbeckoned comment. So I gathered. Changing his tone, he assured her that the healer's representation was only fair. It is right for you to be here; the healers have invested a great deal on this planet. Sipping his tea, he wondered if she really believed this and wondered himself if her presence was truly necessary. It was obvious she was not a diplomatic material; she was far too direct.

My presence here has nothing to do with how much we have invested, or to gain some kind of interstellar respect as others have been saying. We know we are not wanted here because the people feel we have too much political clout with the Senate, and they feel the strain too confining for their liberal ideology. Our presence is a product of bureaucracy, and honestly, this is the last place in the universe I'd choose to be. But I've been given a charge, and that is to defend the dignity of the Simmians, who have thus been presented as no more than stock. As if realizing her voice had grown a little too loud, she toned down to a heavy whisper.

I don't even know how to help them other than demand they be given their freedom, and that concept, in and of itself, it defeatist. For M'ztka will laugh straight in my face at the mere suggestion.

Deliberately unrevealing, he stifled an inappropriate smile upon viewing her placid exterior disturbed. M'ztka would not like this, that much was certain, and while she was adamant, the healers held not one card in their hand, rendering them virtually ineffectual participants. But why M'ztka had been so threatened by their presence still baffled him. What kind of threat could this small band of six ultimately impose?

Maybe they think we will rally the Simmians to revolt. Or that we have some kind of secretive spying agenda for the Senate. We are just one more example of how the Republic is crushing them from the insides out. Apparently, we threaten their autonomy. Shrugging her shoulders in agitation, her eyes roamed out over the magnetic field into the blue gray sky, where up overhead air traffic could just be seen.

Still and solidly focused, her eyes glazed over. The conflict cannot be resolved behind these closed doors. A long weary sigh eased from her body, and he wondered if she'd had sensed this, or merely surmised. In either event, he was inclined to agree with her. For thus far, little had been accomplished.


*****

An hour later, Governor M'ztka wandered in the conference room, an irritated smirk at the sight of his new visitor. Look what the cat dragged in. His eyes drilled her intensely as he rounded the conference table, black robe fanning out behind him in an overdone display of royalty. Centering himself before his throne at the head of the table, he nodded her way and sat. So nice to see you again, Healer Amelia. I see no introductions need to be made with our Jedi Kenobi. I am sure you two are quite familiar. Obi-Wan met the governor's gaze marking him with suspicion. They informed me I should expect you this morning, and naturally I posted a few extra guards in the case that things were to get out of hand. You people are quite popular around here, you know.

Jedi Kenobi, do excuse us momentarily. I need to address Ms. d'Sinette privately. Stretching out of his chair, he slithered through a side door expecting the girl to follow.

Rising in courtesy, Obi-Wan wondered what kind of background existed between the two obvious rivals and suddenly grew anxious at the governor's request to address her privately. Glancing down to Elia still sitting defiantly, he pressed his lips together unconsciously and waited to see what she'd do after the sarcastic demand. Seeing as M'ztka's only kind words to her had been prefaced with a threat, Obi-Wan was torn as to whether or not he should intervene. But M'ztka had burrowed himself from sight within the dark adjacent room and when he turned back, the steady apparition of white had risen and floated across the room. The Force eased through her cleanly at this point, increasing his confidence in her ability to stand up to the domineering planetary leader. Centering himself, he remained standing as the double doors closed behind her.


*****

M'ztka's direct and efficient command irritated Elia, but when he called her common, she was infuriated. Preparing herself for a strong word or two, she left behind the disapproving Obi-Wan and entered the chamber.

The door whooshed closed behind her enclosing them in a shadowy technically advanced cave. The blue toned hexagonally shaped interior office was wide and spacious. Holodisks lined the oversized book shelving units like an archaic library and while a desk and chairs stood central to the room, they remained uninvited.

M'ztka stood across the room, arms folded over his barrel chest, tapping his chin as if considering how best to deal with this dilemma. The healer locked her hands before her and kept her head down, reverting to the Force for patience. Tension rippled, but finally he began. I am sure it pleases you to know my hands are tied. The CSA (Corporate Sector Agency) demands I comply with all efforts of compromise'. To expel you and your kind might appear too militant in the eyes of our off world investors. And you know what the natives think. Stepping forward, he laid down the guidelines. Therefore I allow your presence at our gatherings, singly as an observer. Should you step beyond your bounds-

A dramatic pause preceded the threat.

Have you ever heard of the Benzoic Mechanism?

Eyes lifted. Loosening her knotted hands, she ambled close to him. Though the challenge was followed by neither threat nor reproach, he nonetheless reacted if she had gravely offended him. Barreling into her body, he jabbed a waving finger in her face.

Bly me not, witch, or I'll have you burned at the stake. After the events in the Nimitz, it wouldn't be too hard.

Burning red, she struggled to contain herself recalling the mob that surrounded the clinic the night she returned. But it wasn't so much herself she was worried about, it was the Simmians.

She remembered the last time the biological weapon was used. She had just arrived on Bonadan with Thaum and the Simmians in Quism's residential quarters decided to strike one day in retaliation of an imposed food shortage. What she learned was that slaves not only have transmitters hidden in their bodies, but also a pellet of the lethal chemical Benzene which, when activated, bursts into the bloodstream affecting the nervous system. Victims experience up to five minutes of painful convulsions before the potency reaches the brain and they collapse. Externally, a indigo colored bruise forms around the neck region and up around the right side of the face. As a result of the strike, the dissenters were promptly killed off and new slaves were shipped in at a cost of over D43 million ducats.

Without raising her tone, she slowly stepped back, raised her chin, and said, Don't overplay your power, Governor. Your precious investors would not be so supportive if you mutilated their stock by killing off the Simmian slaves.

Throwing back his head, he rationalized the situation as if speaking to an ignorant school girl. My dear girl, don't you realize they profit if I use the Mechanism? Each slave has an insurance policy that far exceeds their actual worth. I alone decide when to use the device, and I should hardly think my investors would be opposed to earning an extra million or two.

The blood rushed from her cheeks. Nostrils flaring, she licked her lips to keep herself from making the same mistake twice.

So do we have an understanding?

And you, of course, will keep this to yourself.

He smiled a pointy, wicked grin and brushed past her with spring in his heels.

When she finally gathered the courage to crawl out the hole, she found a whole new audience had accrued and struggled inwardly to refocus on this new situation. Filing away M'ztka's threats for a more appropriate time, the rose in her cheeks returned, and ironically enough she surprised even herself when when she politely addressed the governor. Your honor, I am pleased to make the acquaintance of your company. The words flowed out smoothly from her sweet tongue, surprising the group as if the ghostlike apparition was made simply to linger, not to spout eloquencies.

Bowing to her audience as prelude to the charade that was about to begin, she smiled prettily as M'ztka introduced her to Kiltma and Chlak. She walked around the table to meet them and gently touched hands with them, extracting whatever knowledge of them she could in the touch.

Allowing Chlak to take her robe, she chose the seat directly opposite of the governor, a symbolic antithesis. Small talk ensued but luckily for her the governor was obliged to answer the questions for her.

So Healer Amelia, what is it exactly, that you do? Kiltma faced her sincerely, though the answer seemed quite obvious.

She smiled at M'ztka before beginning and was met with a hard glare. Similar to the Jedi or the Agri-Corp, the Jedi Healers are the medical sect commissioned by the Senate to provide supplies and treatment to its citizens.

Humph, if DiQaerma is considered a standard part of the treatment, the governor muttered under his breath. Obi-Wan suspected it to be in reference of the law suit, but the governor said no more.

So you treat all citizens? Kiltma politely questioned for the sake of clarification.

Anyone who comes to us.

Interjecting to acclaim Bonadan's current medical system, M'ztka asserted, All citizens of Bonadan are cared for under law, and even our slaves receive the utmost care by a contracted health maintenance organization. Each corporation is required to provide basic health services to all its laborers and their families- all at no cost to the Simmians. Whereas, citizens have the insurance drawn off their yearly taxable income.

It seems your health care system is quite adequate, then. How is it you came to be on Bonadan?

M'ztka smiled successfully, and spoke right over Kiltma's last question. Oh yes. We don't really require the assistance of the Healers, but when the Labor Treaty was signed five hundred years ago, the Senate required a minimum of one establishment on each planet. It was designed with less lucrative systems in mind, who might not be able to afford sufficient health care to its laborers. Unlike us.

Elia blinked back the rude interruption and continued.

We are sent wherever we are needed. And there is a need on Bonadan, despite its quite successful industry. Our current location is just a mile outside Walkar, and I'd be honored if you came out to visit us at some point of your stay. Kiltma and Chlak were both charmed to the bone and eagerly accepted the invitation. Just out of the corner of her eye, she noticed M'ztka roll his eyes back and caught a weary sigh at their simple distraction.

That would be most appreciated. But fortunately for her, the conversation did not end there as Chlak continued to ask the perfect questions. And why not a more central location to the city?

-At the time, space was unavailable.

Excellent, Governor. I didn't realize you knew so much about the healers.

Yes, well, we've had our moments....


*

The conversation clarified a few of his own concerns, and although Obi-Wan had many more on his mind, he didn't bother to pursue them at this time, as he was still unable to decipher who swayed more on the side of sincerity, and who just wanted to make a good impression. Therefore, he kept all comments to himself.

Moments later, Trafalgar ambled in, cutting the conversation short. Good morning. How nice of you to drop in, M'ztka bantered sarcastically with a wave of his hand. Obi-Wan was certain Trafalgar hated the man as he returned the comment with a cold, hard stare. Ignoring Kiltma and Chlak entirely, Trafalgar rounded the table, eyeing the new member cautiously. Sitting, he set aside his exquisite skills in tact and stared at her without comment.

Obi-Wan, disgusted by the youth's demeanor and general audacity, stood and made a formal introduction to one another only because none of the others bothered to do so. Even Amelia, who had up to then been overwilling to charm the guests of this party, withheld all extraneous efforts. As if rising again were too much trouble, Trafalgar simply leaned forward and reached out his hand. Amelia rose and touched hands efficiently, but quickly turned away.

Obi-Wan sat back down with them, and strangely enough, found the Healers hand under the table seeking out his. Misunderstanding the message, he held out his hand as if she had something to give to him, but her hand was empty. Ironically, what he did find in her palm was a strange feeling, and with it an unspoken comment of sinister energy surrounding the shabby, unshaven youth.

The extended period of silence was finally broken only with a change of subject by Kiltma. Well, then. Now that we are all here, I think its high time we get onto business.


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