++++++++++
Bonadan
Clinic
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Although Obi-Wan felt refreshed after the much needed sleep, he was quickly growing impatient from the lack of purpose. There was little research he could accomplish other than look up where the barbed arrow was manufactured, but when that was done, he was rather at a loss. Tetre had busied him in the patient residence for a while, but when released from this duty, Obi-Wan wandered outside in effort to break the claustrophobia that threatened to drive him insane.
Reviewing Bonadan's disturbing situation over and over didn't do much to mitigate the feeling either. He wished he could investigate more thoroughly, but felt Ruebyn depended on his presence now that she knew Master Li'sarrow was not going to make it out anytime soon.
And there was something else pestering him. Healer Amelia. He worried about her, and that perhaps he behaved inappropriately last night, offended her. He hardly knew her, perhaps it was not his place to comment on her decisions or to offer advice, for she never directly asked for it. But while the healer refused to admit it, she needed a dose of humility; she was no more a savior than he was. He remembered how Qui-Gon worried that he internalized too much. It's true, when he went on a mission, he often felt responsible for solving their problems, and if he didn't, somehow it became his fault that things didn't work out. She couldn't save the Simmians, not the way they needed to be saved.
As if out of his thoughts, Elia stepped out from the kitchen to the rocky pathway behind the clinic that ribboned through the muddy dirt. The sun pierced her eyes as it momentarily peeked through the smog, and she nearly bumped into the wandering Jedi. Oh, you're awake. There was a moment of extended silence as their tongues twisted for words, but she quickly filled the space with a hasty invitation. I'm going to the greenhouse. Want to check it out?
He nodded in agreement, but before she could move passed him, the Jedi stepped in front of her. Wait. I need to say that I'm sorry about-
She held up a hand and her head fell. I'm the one who should apologize, her voice was almost a whisper. You shouldn't have had to see me like that, and you deserve far more respect than I have extended you. Forgive me, Jedi.
When she looked up, his hands were neatly tied in front of him, and his eyes explored the same rock pattern that floated in the sea of pounded dust. When she finished, he politely lifted out of the bow and nodded. You are feeling better, then?
Yes. Thank you, she spoke distractedly, fanning the heat that had risen to her cheeks through those eternal moments. So you forgive me? Raising her eyebrows, she looked up to him.
In response, he smiled with sincerity and pressed his eyelids closed in affirmation.
Oh, good. As she sighed the words, she touched her chest lightly with her fingertips, then hooked onto his elbow spinning him towards the greenhouse.
Thankful for something to distract them from elongating the uncomfortable sentiment, he tagged along as she moved on down the path.
I hadn't noticed you had a greenhouse.
Elia was sadly aware that regular doses of water as well as soil turnover did not yield the desired effect of an inviting field of green to break the generally hazy atmosphere, though the healers determined to continue trying.
It seemed as if nothing would grow in this alkali soil, so Thaum built a raised bed about 15 yards out with imported soil as if anything would look better than just dirt. From the pathway, it didn't look like much more.
I know, the foggy plasteel blends in with the hazy landscape.
Observing the lack of life, he couldn't help but to comment. I see you are going for a winter theme.
She thought she noticed a small crack at the corners of his mouth.
The cool outside breeze dead ended in the humid shack. Hidden away on large, flat waist high beds burgeoned a myriad of greenery.
If it weren't so hot, I think I might live in here, she announced, scooping up a long basket.
I have a feeling you already do.
Oh, I haven't done all this myself. Weaving their way through the maze of beds, she picked up a vegetable here and there, dictating who grew what and why so and so wasn't succeeding.
Obi-Wan followed, intrigued by her enthusiasm. You should have been commissioned by the Agri-Corp.
She threw him a sideways glance.
You know I was nearly a bonafied member myself. My first assignment out of Temple was to assess the independent growth rate of citrus on Bandomeer.
Agri-Corp members don't get promoted to Knights.
Deliberately skirting any further discussion of himself, he wandered away from her and changed the subject. He felt it best to keep the past in the past and left the question at that. Experience led him to conclude that such attachments only lead to explorations of regret. Still intensely curious at the mystery, she stood opened mouthed, but saved the question for later when he pointed to a dew dipped flowering plant. Crebria. See how the buds are lost in the leaves.
The color is fascinating, not quite red, not quite orange, he answered observing the brilliant leaves. Where are the buds? I don't see any. Hands behind his back, he leaned sideways to inspect the specimen.
They're there. They are meant to blend in with the leaves to protect itself from predators.
Plants have predators?
Everything eventually is made victim to predators. Here. Brushing against his arm, she reached over and softly lifted a leaf. Beneath lie an emblazoned yellowish orange flower protected by the cover of her leaves.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the flaming color and visually distinguish the flower from the leaves. Yes, he saw it, following the contoured lines to her hand he knew how those hands belonged in the delicate world of flora and fauna. How did she end up on such a thirsty, parched planet?
Before she knew it, she found herself rattling off the names of each of the plants as if it were a personal challenge to identify them all.
Hmm. Sorry. It's easy to get distracted in here.
He hadn't noticed she'd been mouthing the categorical names, and made it a point to pay more attention. The Healers devoted themselves to this place, it was clear to him, with neatly laid rows of coordinated plants. He'd never seen the inside of the Healer's most precious art and the invitation to such honored him. The only contact he'd ever had with Healers was at the Temple in his youth. Burns from low powered training sabers, the occasional sprain, or illness. The medicine was in the touch he knew, but did everything they touch flower so beautifully? While her back was turned, he stole another look. She gleamed with empathy; the living force radiated forth from her in even in her casual stroll through the greenhouse. By contrast, he realized his own rigid structure towered through the greenery as if it might be crumpled by such an impostor.
She, on the other hand, stuck her nose fully in the green bundles and dirt, breathing in the fragrant warm. Upon invitation to share, he declined and politely shunned the offer.
Noticing his hesitation to get too close, Elia plucked off a couple leaves from the healthy plant, crushed them, and presented the handful to him. Rather than taking her hand and bending into it, he pinched a tiny portion off and crumbled in beneath his nose. It was far more fragrant than he suspected it would be, having assumed only the most trained connoisseur would be able to differentiate the unique scents.
This should be familiar. Do you recognize it?
Swarming his senses, he recalled the salve he used numerous times to heal simple lacerations. Reaching down to his tool belt, he pulled out a small sealed packet and presented it to her.
Yep. That's it.
He examined the tiny writing on it.
You can also use it on blisters. It will congeal into a protective layer and it has pain easing properties that will soothe the irritation. Glancing down at his calloused hand from saber work, he reminded himself to use it in the future.
As he returned the packet back to his tool belt, she spied his hands. She had treated many a peer back at the Temple, and knew the body of Jedi. Daily nicks and aches unrelentingly pestered them, though they readily set such feeling aside, as if even admitting their existence exacerbated the common annoyance. Elia wondered if he was plagued by such at that moment. Not letting her thoughts wander too far, she quizzed him further.
Do you know what this is?
He'd seen thousands of green shrubbery in his lifetime, and this one looked just like all the others. Why should I know this one in particular?
It sits at the base of the great redwood in the room of a thousand fountains.
The image came back to him. How long it had been since he'd enjoyed a quiet meditation in that forest. Visualizing the greenery, he tried to remember the other details of that room. The ferns, soft spun moss covered earth, a rocky brook....
Bant, Bruck....
Wandering over to the stretched pelt, Obi-Wan felt a strange sensation tingle through him. What is this?
She hesitated before answering, The skin of a beast.
You hunted this beast?
One must not forget the old ways.
Intrigued at this mysterious response, he spied her intensely for an accompanying reaction, but she skillfully rerouted his attention.
There's not much else to see here.... We've got all we need for supper. She held up the full basket like bait.
Turning back to the pelt for one last glance, he ran his hand just over the top of the speckled fur careful not to touch it. There was something horribly ugly, and yet wholesomely beautiful about the coat. Narrowing his eyes, he knelt down before it and caressed the frame. If you really want to leave, why don't you?
She clenched the door frame, avoiding eye contact. Her palms became sticky and the tap, tap, tapping of that hole in her chest resounded alarm. She didn't know how to answer.
Be careful with my skin.
*
He followed her inside, quickly gaining familiarity with the quirks of her moods. Hoisting the basket onto the kitchen counter, she began to prepare for dinner. It seemed to soothe her to be busy, as it did him, and in between commanding him to grab the cutting board and rinse the vegetables, she picked up with their earlier conversation.
I've been here six long years, but I can't leave now. Bringing a fresh cut flower to her nose, her eyes clouded momentarily and she seemed to forget the running water. Home. What I wouldn't give to be back there.
What do they say? You can't go home again? He took it upon himself to free her from the reverie that drained the living Force from her.
Uninterrupted, she continued. You know what I miss most? Belladonna.
He turned off the water, as she had turned her back on it. Want me to cut this?
She nodded distractedly, One just can't seem to find it on this planet. It's more of a cooler variety though, and wouldn't last here anyway. I remember Leonora, my teacher, used to decorate wreaths with its burgundy colored flower, delicate little things. Breaking the sentiment, she turned the conversation back towards her task, pulling out some pots and pans to hang over the gas brick oven.
Obi-Wan also noticed the herb garden in the window above the sink. There was a handwritten note half stuck to the wall next to it. Don't Forget! Turn twice daily.
Did you remember to turn the plants today?
She hooked up the pot and flicked on the open flame before heading back to the sink to cut more veggies.
The plants. Did you remember to turn them?
She sensed he was being facetious, and stuck out her tongue at him.
he grumbled under his breath as she turned the plants in their little pots.
Pretending to be too important to bother with such insolent comments, she strut off the pantry while Obi-Wan scanned the counter tops for a clean towel. Across the room, she tossed a wadded towel, then heaved out a billowing bag of tutlre.
Are you planning on feeding a starving planet?
She raised her brows poignantly and squeaked a dismissing Humph. Aren't you the comedian tonight? He watched as she measured out four cups of the maza-like substance and dump it in the pot.
How do you want this cut? He held up the spotted green vegetable.
Diced, please.
He wasn't sure what that meant, as Qui-Gon blessedly did most of the cooking. And honestly, those times were few and far between these days as they had been all over the galaxy in the last year.
He began by washing his hands- a good start- but this was soon followed by confusion. She chuckled aloud, gathering the materials he would need to dice the veggies.
Explaining as if he were a school boy, she spelled out the process beginning with, This is a knife. She waved it at him and he stepped back cautiously. Watch out, she's armed.
First, you pit it, she jabbed into the fleshy meat and dug out the veiny seed. Then you rinse and chop into small pieces like so, she demonstrated as Obi-Wan moved in to take over.
Alright. You've proved yourself the culinary master. I think I can take it from here.
Just then Thaum popped in. Hey, Obi-Wan, Master Qui-Gon just rang and said he'd be in at 7:00 S.T.
Thank you. Can you arrange for a transport? He asked politely, temporarily looking up from his dicing.
Yeah, sure. So you're making the guest prepare supper? What kind of host are you? Thaum pinched Elia's sides as he brushed passed her and grabbed a fruit from the basket they had just brought in.
Remembering the claustrophobia from this morning, he was quick to contradict the healer. No, it's alright. I needed something to do.
You're getting ancy out here in the middle of nowhere, aren't you? Elia pointed a narrow canister towards the Jedi.
Aren't we all? Thaum raised his fruit in a toast towards his counterparts before taking a bite.
Elia opened the jar and took a whiff. You don't mind having Cataract Soup again tonight, do you? she looked towards Thaum who shrugged his shoulders and played along nicely.
No, the retina is my favorite part. Tender and squishy at the same time. They waited for Obi-Wan to react in some horrified manner, but he simply replied in an even toned voice.
If you're trying to disgust me, it won't work. You wouldn't believe what I am capable of eating. He didn't even bother a glance up from the cutting board, disappointing the two antagonists.
Spoken from a true galactic traveler, no doubt. But did you know Elia used to be a witch and she has cooked up some pretty interesting dishes for us.
Oh please, Thaum.
Dathomirian. Deny it, do you? What's this in your hand? He snatched it up knowing full well what it was. Eye of Newt. He displayed the canister to Obi-Wan who briefly afforded a quick glance. Now what right minded individual would pour this in her food?
You use it all the time.
Sparingly, I might add. Wandering over to the plants, he turned them twice, back to the position they had been not five minutes ago. Obi-Wan and Elia glanced over to each other and snickered.
What's so funny? he queried as his milky fingertips delicated rotated around the rims.
Elia scoot him out of the way and adjusted them back. I just turned them.
That's a first. Did you give them a little water? When she nodded no, he filled a small watering pitcher and proceeded to woo to the plants. You're thirsty, aren't you little guys? But don't drink too much lest you end up like your cousins out there in Tetre's dirt patch.
Trying not to stare, Obi-Wan couldn't help but notice the oddity. If it had been Elia, he might have let that brewing sarcastic comment slip out. Instead, he interrupted the infantile talk with a question about his wounds.
Nah. There's no mark or anything. I guess it wouldn't have mattered anyway, with what they can replace these days.
Don't minimize your injury, Thaum, Elia reprimanded. You are fortunate to have such incredible healing capabilities, but you gave us all quite a scare.
I know. I'm sorry. He set down the watering can, staring off into the distance.
She nodded and tapped her chest reverently before dumping in the vegetables. There's only so much technology can do.
But even you would be surprised, Elia. With the opening up of the bioengineering industry, one can special order just about anything. And this extends to organic prosthetics, organs, just about anything with DNA.
Rinsing the cutting board, Obi-Wan asked about cloning. That's still illegal, isn't it?
Not exactly. There are certain limitations to what one may do, but the government is currently establishing those boundaries, so until then, the market is free game.
So I could just walk into a place and request to be cloned? Elia confirmed doubtfully adding seasoning to the now simmering pot.
In theory, but I doubt you could find a placethat would do it. Companies don't want to risk alot, especially now.
Why pursue it then? Obi-Wan wondered aloud, folding his arms across his chest.
Think of the demand for organs alone. A couple of contracts with planetary HMO's and they'd be set for life.
How does cloning fit in?
How do you think they create the organs? Scary prospect, being cloned.... Lost in a daze for a moment, he threw his pit into the decomposer and changed the subject. Need any help here?
++++++++++
Dvorak, Mandalor
Trafalgar Estate
++++++++++
Meanwhile, Leopold worked quietly in his study when the com rang. He waited for the droid to announce the caller, but became impatient waiting, so addressed it himself. Not knowing the sender, he opened the link. How can I help you? he asked as the figure materialized before him.
The Sith uncrinkled into a full length holo. He immediately began speaking.
Another Jedi will be arriving on Bonadan to assist with negotiations.
Leopold wondered what this information had to do with him, but listened closely.
He will try to bait the CSA with an offer of criminal exchange. It is your responsibility to make sure that no one agrees.
Afraid to admit he had no knowledge of that situation, he fumbled for the appropriate words to beg for clarification. I'll contact my son as soon as possible. Leopold was instantly sweating, and his fingers blundered like playdough at the unexpected visit.
See to it that he refuses all offers for I have an alternate proposal that I suspect will be to your liking.
++++++++++
Bonadan
Spaceport in Walkar
++++++++++
Qui-Gon gathered up his things and stepped slowly from the transport, stretching his long legs after the four day journey. The second his foot softly touched the ground, two assistants immediately rushed him, then scurried away with his luggage. Like a man of great importance, the other passengers were made to wait until he exited into the spaceport. His master always seemed to carry a noble air that commanded the attention of all those around him and Obi-Wan had to remind himself that it was just Qui-Gon and not another showy diplomat.
Arching his hand out to the side, Obi-Wan beckoned the healer to wait inside as he braved the winds onto the shabby landing platform.
Skipping a formal greeting, Obi-Wan stepped into place beside his master, allowing the elder to pat him on the shoulder as they walked back to the enclosure.
I'm glad you're here. The negotiations seem to have come to a stalemate at the present. As you know, all treaties thus far proposed have been met with ambivalence, at best.
A solution will present itself, Obi-Wan. Do not allow the lack of activity to feed your frustration. Have no expectation that my presence here will greatly change their reluctance to cooperate.
While Obi-Wan disliked the criticism, he found the rhythm familiar and comforting. Opening the door to the bustling crowd awaiting the transport guests, Obi-Wan weaved his way back to where he'd left his compatriot.
I've brought Healer Amelia with me as she seems best able to navigate these parts. He thought back to the spouting steam sewers, but didn't want to tell Qui-Gon that she had insisted on tagging along even at the late hour. Seven standard time turned out to be about 3 a.m. on Bonadan. Nonetheless, the spaceport was bustling as if it abided by no real time schedule. Scanning the multitude of creatures, he recognized her before a florist's display of botanicals.
She always wore her long brown hair tied back in a low ponytail, with the length of it wrapped up into a long clear rolling pin that nearly reached from shoulder tip to shoulder tip. A couple of strays strands poked out the side, and when Obi-Wan called her name, the log rolled over her neck and was suspended in mid-air. She smiled broadly.
After fidgeting with a vendor, she quickly straightened her diminutive frame and took in a deep breath of air. Dwarfed by Qui-Gon's mass, her chin tilted upward, and she seemed to stretch out her body as long as possible to match his, pulling back her shoulders and holding her breath, and then raising her eyebrows.
Obi-Wan could practically hear her say, Wow, is he is big! and although she might not have said it out loud, Qui-Gon noticed it as well. Bowing, he tapped the top of her hand lightly.
I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Healer. Obi-Wan tells me much of you, Qui-Gon released her hand as the words intruded into the realm of the spoken. The lofty Jedi folded his hands beneath the folds of his cloak and blinked over to Obi-Wan. Heat flared up around the padawan's face with such a comment, and he uncomfortably shifted his weight to the other foot.
Whipping passed the questionable utterance, Elia kept conversation light. We've been eager for your arrival as well. Suddenly remembering the handful of flowers, she held them up to the tall man and awkwardly arched her back, her free hand on her hip. Swinging her elbow back and forth, she rocked on her toes and avoided any elongated looks of graciousness, as Qui-Gon lifted the bundle to his nose.
Thrilled and surprised at the same time, she enthusiastically exclaimed, How did you know?
Turning to his apprentice, Qui-Gon lifted the small bunch to Obi-Wan, and stole an observant glance as he was nearly met with a adolescent roll of the eyes.
Instead, Obi-Wan cleared his throat, and with tight lips declined. With this, Qui-Gon smiled to himself, and grabbed Obi-Wan's shoulder affectionately once more. He was pleased to see his padawan as well.
We'll talk about that some other time.
And with that directed moment of silence, attention soon returned to Obi-Wan, who pristinely suggested they get Qui-Gon settled in and get onto business.
Following suit, Elia announced that his luggage would be forwarded directly to the hotel. Would you like a chance to refresh after your travels?
That won't be necessary.
We'll take you onto the clinic then. I know my peers are eager to meet you. Slithering through the mass of people, Elia ordered a private shuttle to take them back to the clinic.
For the moment she was away, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan picked up their earlier conversation. So Chlak introduced the Droid Initiative already?
Yes. The Governor predicted such and had years of accumulated research readily available for our perusal. Unfortunately, half of the information I went through was poorly documented, and for all we know, the bulk of it could be fabricated.
How is it the Healers have become wrapped up in all this?
As far as I can tell, Healer Amelia did not request to participate in negotiations. However, Master Li'sarrow believed it to be in the best interests of the Simmians to have representation. Obi-Wan wondered if he should confide what he had learned about the girl in regards to the Nimitz, but felt that confidence was not necessarily relevant at this time.
Before they could say anymore, she returned and lead them to the waiting shuttle. Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a look that suggested they would speak more later.
I was disturbed to hear of the riot. None were injured, is that correct?
Unbelievably so, she admitted.
And what of the healer? Qui-Gon inquired.
He has fully recovered, Obi-Wan added still in awe over the whole incident.
Jedi Qui-Gon, I must be honest with you. I feel that my presence is having more negative results than positive. Halting, she turned and faced the older Jedi, latching on his elbow. I don't know what Master Li'sarrow has told you, but before we get started, I need you to know that I sincerely want to help the Simmians, and will do whatever needs to be done to protect them.
He listened to her with a calm complacency and instantly felt the urge to protect her from the imminent danger that hinted at her future. Although he made no remark of it to Obi-Wan, his padawan picked up on the tremor, and in light of all that he had learned of her, moved toward her protectively wishing he'd had seen it earlier.
Obi-Wan noticed Qui-Gon pat her on the back, and hook his hand on her shoulder to lead her to the waiting shuttle. You have acted as you saw fit. There is no shame in that.
Nodding in a half hearted acquiescence, she sighed. There was something about the older Jedi that she trusted beyond a doubt. Perhaps it just made her look ridiculously dependent, but overall, it eased the tension that had prefaced his arrival. It would have been the same with Li'sarrow, she guessed, only she wasn't able to come out just yet.
After she was in the shuttle, Qui-Gon quietly commented to his apprentice. I see what you mean. She's not a diplomat; she wears her heart on her sleeve.
Obi-Wan nodded and stepped in, wondering if that would be her downfall.
++++++++++
Outside Walkar, Bonadan
Centrally Sponsored Clinic
++++++++++
Welcome, Jedi Jinn. We have been eager for your arrival. As you know, we have attracted an inordinate amount of negative attention recently. Ruebyn was glad there would be another Jedi to assist to them if last week was a sign of events to come. She had been greatly disturbed by the riot, and secretly hoped Li'sarrow might come out herself, but she was tangled up in the legal mess with Relvaire's lawyers on Coruscant.
I agree. The galaxy is greatly divided over the situation here.
Yes, we've been watching the holo. People have strong feelings towards slavery.
The others introduced themselves and greeted Elia and Obi-Wan amidst yawns and subtle stretches. After tapping hands, Ruebyn lead them to the common area, but as soon as the patient residence were in view, Qui-Gon stopped to inquire about them.
Each of the healers began with a separate comment, but Ruebyn's voice carried over. This is our adult ward, and this is our children's ward.
None were injured, you say?
Not from the riot.
Most from the factories.
Qui-Gon lingered outside the windows, the Living Force stretching out from his limbs. Before sympathy overtook him, Ruebyn suggested he sit down after the long journey. Setting aside his impressions, he accepted the hospitality and took a seat on one of the three couches central to the common area.
When the others gathered, Kiana slumped in the doorway to watch the children and Thaum set to boiling tea.
As he sat down, Qui-Gon was still obviously interested in the clinic and its functions. I can see that it is late here. I don't want to keep any of you.
Ruebyn was quick clarify. We've been anxious for your arrival. That is, of course, if you're not too tired from your journey.
Not at all. I am very curious about you facility. How many patients can you accommodate at any one time?
Up to 64 in an emergency. More beds are stored in the walls. Right now we have 8 adults and 3 children. The latest disaster filled our beds, but- Ruebyn's head fell reverently.
What was that?
Meerpa rested on Tetre's shoulder and answered through a long yawn. An aluminize floride chamber sprung a leak and mixed with the air in the ventilating system. They weren't able to catch it until people began suffocating.
Tetre went to to explain. On site we offered oxygen but those whose lungs survived the blistering, needed antibiotic treatment. So we transferred them here.
Don't the factories have their own medics?
Yes, but the medroids will not treat patients with severe cases if they predict they won't survive. It's a waste of resources to them.
Were any children victims to this event? Qui-Gon seemed seriously concerned at this point, and from Obi-Wan's perspective, seemed fairly adamant on correcting these injustices immediately.
All of them nodded. Unfortunately. Many of the children were not able to overcome the tissue damage, even with the laying on of hands.
No one had to tell the Jedi that the healers were deeply invested in what they do. Yet, he wondered to what level the healers would go to defend the Simmians. Moved by the very tragedy of slavery, he had to remind himself not to let his personal feelings intrude.
Responding to the whistle of the tea pot, Elia hopped up to help Thaum with the tea. What are you serving?
Chamomile D and peppermint A. Since it is 3 a.m. I thought we should avoid caffeine.
She agreed and embraced Thaum from behind. I'm glad you're alright, she sighed. Lifting his right arm, she slithered underneath it and loosened her arms from his waist. Measuring out the teas into a filter, Elia allowed Thaum space to arrange the cups on a serving tray. Then he poured the steaming liquid over the sift and into the narrow chrome kettle, where she dropped the round sieve. Wait, one more thing, Elia pinched in three drops of licorice, to taste, from a small unmarked bottle.
Thaum smiled, and took the tray into the common area.
Thank you, it smells wonderful, Qui-Gon leaned back, warming his hands on the broad cup.
Negotiations will begin again tomorrow, and its hard to predict what direction they might take after this week's episode, Obi-Wan spoke over the steam of his tea.
I had hoped the OASR would have something more well developed to offer by this time, but they've been challenged with a number of set backs.
The Senate will have to vote, Meerpa stated in finality. Either yes or no.
Tetre was quick to contradict her. Even if they did vote in favor of replacing slavery, they have no way of enforcing that systems comply.
Not yet anyway, Qui-Gon added. There's a great deal of talk about recreating an interstellar army.
They abolished that decades ago, Tetre commented, surprised.
That was when the Republic was at peace.
They won't do it, Meerpa kicked her legs out nonchalantly. Or they would have to share political power with more bureaucrats. Which no one wants to do.
Or they could simply centralize the power around the Chancellor.
Vallorum seems generally a good character, Thaum sipped his tea.
He is, but unfortunately, what we value in him, like honesty, others do not, Qui-Gon added soberly.
Then what are the options? Elia inquired nervously. War? Sweep it back under the carpet?
No, there'll be no moving back now.
A solution will present itself in time. Wholly unsatisfied with the older Jedi's answer, Elia sunk back into the couch, brooding as the conversation continued.
Finally, the two guests stood to leave.
We were hoping you would both stay here, Ruebyn announced as they began to depart.
But all your things are at the hotel, Elia droned sympathetically.
That's not a problem. I must agree with Healer Ruebyn. I believe it is in your best interests if both Obi-Wan and I stay here for the time being.
Thank you, the angel sighed in relief. She had been particularly undone by these events, and she deserved some peace. I'll send for your things and get you some towels. Qui-Gon followed to help her while Elia prepared Treatment Room B for yet another visitor.
I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, but you'll have to share your ample space with Qui-Gon. We just can't spare the other room. It's packed as it is. I hope you don't mind.
The accommodations here haven't been the finest, you know. He pretended to be irritated, but she was getting used to his dry humor and just played along.
You get what you pay for, she bantered as she ran down the hall for a fresh supply of linens and towels.
When she returned to Room B, Obi-Wan was already pulling out extra clothing for Qui-Gon to sleep in, as it would be a while before his things arrived and it was already very late. Obi-Wan watched her as she hit a button that extracted a sleep couch from the wall. Pulling off the old bedding and tossing them aside, she opened up the sheets, flinging it right over Obi-Wan. As the sheet dangled in front of his face, he caught it in mid air. Need some help with this?
It took you long enough to ask.
Tucking the sheets into the side of the mattress, they yanked at their adjacent corners, undoing the others work. Stop it, she commanded lightheartedly.
he jested innocently as Qui-Gon stepped in with Ruebyn. Suddenly becoming quite serious, the two efficiently made the bed while Ruebyn continued to apologize for the accommodations.
This will do nicely. Thank you.
The bathroom is right back here, the angel squeezed by the three other persons in the room and turned on the light. There are fresh towels for you both here. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to wake us. One of us is always on watch all night.
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon leaned back over the edges of the bed to let the two ladies pass out of the room. Thank you once again. Your presence is greatly appreciated.
The pleasure is mine.
When the door closed behind them, Ruebyn took a moment to breathe. Clamping onto her heart she sighed. I feel so relieved he's here. I've been so worried.
She wanted to ask why it wasn't good enough just to have Obi-Wan here, but settled for something a little more encouraging. It's alright, Ruebyn, Elia patted the leader on the shoulder. Everyone is doing the best they can.
After they'd gone and the two jedi settled into their bunks and turned out the lights, they took up their conversation from earlier.
So what do you think? Obi-Wan began, eager to know what his master was thinking.
The healers have a difficult job here. I am anxious to hear how the others view their role, and what, if any, impact it will have on negotiations.
Take my word for it- none. The Bondani have little respect for the healers. All in all, their contributions are negligent.
Why do you say that?"
They own nothing. They have no money, and little support. The Simmians as living beings mean nothing to this group of negotiators. Even to Chlak and Kiltma, they are but an ideal.
Interesting that you put it that way. Have you seen their working conditions?
No, but I have seen their residence before the healers were banned. They look like standard dormitory housing, only underground. It appears they are generally cared for.
If the Simmians are so cared for, then why is tragedy so frequent?
In all honesty, Qui-Gon didn't expect to connect to the healers as much as he had. But there was much he had not seen yet, and he must therefore continue to suspend his judgment until he had heard all sides of the story. At this, their conversation was left open ended, and each drifted off to sleep wrapped up in their thoughts. Tomorrow promised to be enlightening.
++++++++++
Walkar
Clinic
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Elia hurried through the fresher and dressed quickly. It was like her to be running late, and while Obi-Wan had swallowed his annoyance the last couple weeks, she did not wish Qui-Gon to have to wait.
Nonetheless, she met them waiting in the common area for her. Hopping in the shuttle, they made their way to the Governor's Palace.
Once inside, Obi-Wan checked Qui-Gon into their room, while Elia went on up.
Refreshed, she bounced into the conference room eager to test the new energy that was bound to come with the Jedi Master's presence. Surprisingly, no one was there yet, and after double checking the time, she opened the window coverings and looked down on the world below. The conference room was only a mere half way up the tower and yet the people down below still appeared as mere ants. She wondered if that was how M'ztka viewed the world: distant, hierarchal.
As if directly out of her thoughts, the governor stepped in.
Good morning. Deliberately making the effort made her feel better, but the act soon backfired when the courtesy wasn't returned.
Where is the new Jedi facilitator? Walking up beside her and looking down onto the scene below, she noticed he was careful to keep his robes from touching her, but the black feathers that sprouted in a fan-like fashion from the neckline nearly brushed her face.
Why do you assume I know?
You seem to have become quite close with the other one, I just assumed you'd do the same with this one.
Folding her arms across her chest, Healer Amelia turned to face him bodily. And what exactly might you mean by that?
Slavery will never be exterminated from this planet no matter how many Jedi they send out. At this, he flung back the folds of his garb and challenged her head on.
Unfettered, she swaggered her hips a little, and leaned back. And here I thought we were beginning to be friends since you didn't throw me in jail.
Don't delude yourself. The only reason you and your kind are not dead yet is because the Republic is protecting you.
Breaking up the aggression, a synthicated voice hummed over the intercom. Governor, the Jedi are on their way up now.
Amelia cocked her head and squinted her eyes not missing a step. What, do you always have us followed?
Ignoring the comment, he slipped back into the adjoining blue toned office while she backed from the window and rounded the table to her usual seat.
Alright, alright. I'm coming old man, she overheard Trafalgar grumble from the innards of the office but skipped any comment she might liked to have made.
Seconds later Kiltma and Chlak burst in, heaving from the stress of running in but moments late. Throwing his suitcase on the table, Kiltma cleared his throat and immediately poured himself a glass of water after the difficult exertion of power walking the 10 meters from the lift. Chlak efficiently booted his powerbook then contacted the team's now official entourage of 20 or more assistants who met in a lower level, spouting off thickly accented directions for today's business.
Into this dysfunctional family was Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn invited to break bread. His arrival, though very expected, seemed as a shock to everyone, for all stopped what they were doing and simply stared as Obi-Wan lead him in. Their expectation must have been that he was some kind of Messiah come to save the people from all their problems, but the short stance of reverence was soon interrupted with the intrusion of the dark clad raven. Good morning, sir. I am Governor M'ztka. Welcome the chaos.
After making introductions they took their places, and Obi-Wan opened. Before we move on, I think we need to clarify a few things.
I agree, Elia spoke up, leaning forward onto the table and narrowing her eyes at M'ztka. Let's start with why a healer was shot.
Qui-Gon noticed that the young healer drilled the governor as if she expected him to reveal the answers, but even if he did know, he wouldn't tell her.
Drumming his fingers against the table, M'ztka met her gaze squarely. Don't blame me for your idiocy. I didn't kill those workers out in the Nimitz.
This has nothing to do with that! she sliced her hand through the air with finality.
Leaning back into his chair, M'ztka feigned calmness by coolly flipping his wrist back. The people are angry at you and are making a statement about it.
Elia fumed, her shoulders hunched over the table defiantly and inhaled to snap back a testy rebuttal, but Obi-Wan eased in.
For the record, we know you made a statement to the press that denied any affiliation with the detainment or attack on Healer Thaum at the Lepkaum Residence. In a short pause, Obi-Wan passed on a soft look to the healer before continuing. We also know that you encouraged the public to let the law address whatever infractions were made-
For their own safety, he added patently. It was obvious on the holo how the Jedi deal with conflict. I feared for their well being. His eyebrows raised innocently as if he were somehow victimized by the whole situation.
Clearing his throat, Obi-Wan brushed aside the rudeness and began again. The riot was in protest to the presence of the Healers on Bonadan. Do we agree?
He affirmed.
Do we also agree that it should not further affect the purpose of these negotiations?
The group scanned the room waiting to see how others would respond, when they were all nodding their heads. Even the healer, though skeptical, gave into the consensus flabbergasted that the Jedi would take that route.
Very well. We should not need to address it again, Obi-Wan stated flatly.
In the space that followed, the crew seemed speechless and wondered to what exactly they had agreed until Kiltma spoke up.
Prefacing his statement with the fact that his proposal was initiated by Chancellor Vallorum himself, Kiltma eagerly presented an alternative solution to Bonadan's dilemma.
Qui-Gon stole a side glance at his padawan, revealing he was interested to hear how the newest proposal would be received.
We would like to offer Bonadan a skilled pool of workers fully funded by the Republic.
M'ztka rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around his chest, but sucked in his comments.
Seemingly impressed that the group was so quietly captivated, he paused for dramatic effect as if they were to savor every word. We have also been instructed to offer ten Senatorial seats... he repeated the number several times and flashed out all ten of his fingers before going on. ...For the Corporate Sector to afford organizations, such as Tlaska, more influence in the active body of the Senate.
Expecting more, M'ztka just sat openmouthed, disgusted by the broad grin that tore across Kiltma's face.
Tlaska's spokesman, usually the introvert, outright guffawed at the unbelievable idea when he saw the man was actually serious.
Slowly the smile disappeared as he looked from face to face.
Unwilling to let the idea sink so soon, Chlak jumped in for support. The OASR also recognizes your stakes and feels your interests have thus far been under represented.
Eyeing them suspiciously, M'ztka finally begged to know what the catch was.
The work force will be comprised of minor felons, but mind you, it's free labor. The words hung in the air; Qui-Gon was thankful that he did not have to initiate the proposal, for he too, saw the ridiculousness even before the governor's face settled the matter.
I suppose the Core Worlds would like to shuffle off their heathen to outer systems such as ours.
It would be quite profitable to you- Chlak didn't want to give up.
-yes, at the expense of our integrity!
Healer Elia could not hold back a snicker at the irony of this statement, but no matter how much she wanted to, she didn't see much of solution in this option either.
Although the Jedi had been briefed about the proposal before he left Alderaan, he knew it wouldn't go over well, but he wasn't going to let the governor toss every idea out the window. Qui-Gon spoke for the first time, with all the sobriety they expected. You do understand that eventually you will have to give up your slave labor?
We'll secede before we do that, M'ztka snapped back carelessly.
Your investors will not allow you to do that either, Qui-Gon leaned forward gently. Because they know they will lose all their business, the Jedi's eyes dwindled on Trafalgar, who diverted his gaze elsewhere.
The Republic is powerless, he bantered in return. The worst that can happen is they will slap another tax on our exports, M'ztka sang the words confidently, sure of his position, but Obi-Wan wouldn't allow him the satisfaction.
You must consider the consequences, Governor. What will you do if the bill passes?
What you don't seem to understand is that the Republic doesn't have an army, and therefore cannot back up their high and mighty ideals! Ruffled again, the planetary leader shook with anger.
That's a strong assumption, Qui-Gon attempted to pacify both parties at once, but things were quickly getting out of hand, and even the more cooperative of the bunch found themselves frustrated with the recent turn of events.
The Chancellor is offering you an incredible deal, Kiltma tried to persuade M'ztka to take the bait, but as expected, he wouldn't hear anymore of it.
What a puppet you must think I am to accept such ridiculous terms. Listen to how idiotic it sounds. You want us to people the planet with criminals....
They would be contained within a controlled environment. Think of how many investors would encourage you to accept this proposal.
You think investors will be pleased if I had to tell them, By the way, we'll be freeing all your skilled workers and replace the with the scum of the galaxy.
That's how they treat the Simmians as is, Elia mumbled under her breath.
Yes, why don't you whine like a baby as to how poorly the Simmians are treated. Dear god, they are cared for better than other class on this planet.
You make it sound like they are such victims. If they had the choice, they'd never give up their positions where their entire life is cared for. Food, medical, housing, work. What more could they want?
Qui-Gon broke in again as the topic shifted to the underlying issue. I think we need to refocus on the real issue here.
This is the real issue, Jedi, Trafalgar interjected brutally. You can't save them, Healer. You may as well give them up.
Highly spoken from a slave owner. Do you feel threatened, Trafalgar? After all, what would happen if all that money you blow off was actually spent on something more imperative than yourself?
Shut up, whore. Perhaps if you weren't too busy blowing everyone in here, you could might actually accomplish something.
Standing up, Qui-Gon commanded the attention of all. I think we had better take a break. Let's take some time to cool off, then reconvene later. Fuming faces flared with fury. Trafalgar flicked his pocket book closed and threw his shoulders back into the chair, tossing his long hair back in a quick nod. Folding his arms across his chest, he pouted like a six year old, chin close to his chest.
Kiltma and Chlak were nearly speechless after the last outburst and quickly stood and exited, abandoning their materials in a staggered, clumped pile. Heads down, they nodded in the negative at their disappointment. No one expected things to go this poorly.
M'ztka sat proudly from the head seat, snickering in satisfaction. See what happens when you exceed your bounds?
Healer Elia was shuffling her way out behind Kiltma and Chlak when this comment reached her ears. Spinning around, she threw out a concentrated blast of air which hit them like a strong wind. Trafalgar's hair flew upward and M'ztka's feathers flailed.
At once taken back, the two caught their breath as if it had been stolen right out of their lungs. Seconds later the taunting began again. Don't try to frighten us with your sorceress ways, witch! We'll bury you before you know it.
Healer Amelia, The deep throated gruff voice of the older Jedi reprimanded her without raising his voice. The intense whisper urged her out the door, without further response to the jeers.
Her face feverish with fury, she cooled it with her clammy palms. Steaming, she paced as Qui-Gon spoke softly to Kiltma and Chlak in a reassuring voice. As the two departed down the hall, Qui-Gon returned to Elia and Obi-Wan. You will not misuse the Force like that again.
She wanted to cry. His disappointment weighed heavily on her. Fidgeting with her hands, she scrubbed her face again. She wanted to apologize, but she knew if she was to say anything, it would end in tears. Escaping into the nearest fresher facility, she abandoned them and paced the interior, fighting back those first few drops. The back of her throat burned hot, but with clenched fists she managed to pull herself together.
Obi-Wan knew her position well, and prayed she'd hold it together. He could almost feel the disappointment in herself, having been flayed similarly by Qui-Gon on many an occasion. His master had this unusual way of saying very little and a great deal at the same time. Refusing eye contact, the two dangled miserably by the door until she exited. Still red faced, she asked to be taken home, but Qui-Gon suggested otherwise. Why don't you take some time to unwind first. If you still feel like you need to return to the clinic, Obi-Wan will take you.
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Dvorak, Mandalor
Curel, Inc.
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I'm busy tonight, Relvaire, Fianat began, reclining behind her desk tapping her teeth with a pen as he appeared on the screen before her. Relvaire often called with little morsels of corporate gossip, and today she didn't quite have the patience to waste her time on his melodrama.
He snickered that she would so quickly assume he was asking her out, but brushed it off. I called that irresponsible brother of yours to see how negotiations are coming along since the riot. Apparently the OASR has made another proposal- of which he didn't feel it was necessary to inform anyone else in the CSA. Foreseeing him quickly slipping off into a tangent, Fianat urged him back to the point of the transmission. Recognizing the hard look that bent across her smooth face, Relvaire jumped to the point with a tinge of fervor.
The Senate is offering the Corporate Sector 10 Senatorial seats if we agree to transits a certain percentage of our labor to convicts.
Dropping the pen, she sat forward and pressed her hands flat onto the pristine desk in front of her. she left the next few seconds undisturbed, hoping he would see the light on his own. Who do you know in the Corporate Sector would actually invite criminals to work for them?
I would for a Senatorial seat. Here's the catch. The Senate knows it will take decades for a complete changeover, and can therefore only demand a small percentage be changed, but as long as we meet that percentage, the taxes will be waived.
The business woman's mind still swayed strongly to the right, but her compadre's interest was beginning to make sense. So really, your saying that we wouldn't actually have to give up our slave labor, we could appease the Senate and those OASR idealists a bit at a time.
Exactly. What's even better is that the proposal has come directly from Chancellor Vallorum himself, which makes us appear all the more willing to compromise. It could very easily earn us more brownie points in the Senate if we don't look like the enemy.
Now that the courts have ruled no breach of contract, the vote's been returned to the Senate. M'ztka is a fool to think they will let him secede, and when he fails, who knows what will happen to Bonadan. You and I have large investments on that planet. We need to be on the right side when this situation blows up.
You know, you would make a very good politician, she didn't like how he beamed with satisfaction from the comment, but she had to admit his point was valid. Folding her hands in front of her, she rested her head on them. I'll look into it.
Talk to your father, you know how ever stubborn he can be about these sorts of things... Relvaire grinned playfully as she closed out the holo.
Pushing back her chair, she walked over the window and looked down below. She liked it up here and would't risk a fall until she was certain there would be a net to catch her.
