Ky-Ra glanced over her shoulder rather skeptically at the Jedi behind her.
He seemed fascinated by the palace as the walked through it. While Ra had
grown up in such opulence, she understood the overwhelming effect that it
had on visitors.
Massive mirrors, jeweled and imposing, lined the walls of the halls. What was even more spectacular was that ice from the planet was intricately implemented in the construction of the building, making any light that hit it reflect off the ice and mirrors in a sparkling, blinding display. The jewels that were planted everywhere flashed in their own rich elegance. Ra had never not known such a life. Everything about the Ziostians emphasized formality and order. They were the New Republics answer to the Chiss.
Not that Ra had not known casual moments. Her mother, for all the stress of order and propriety, had married below her station by taking Stratus as her regent. Stratus had earned his military ranking by talent, not by birth. He was an incredibly talented man who had fallen in love with the Ky and who had done everything in his power to be worthy of her. Cobra herself had completely defied her counselors by choosing Stratus, a younger man who had no family, over the many other options she had. Not that previous Kys hadn't done the exact same thing. Aran-Ky, Cobra's mother, had married a rogue Imperial agent who had changed sides to the New Republic, and for two generations before that, the Kys had married Jedi. That fact was so closely guarded that the names of the Jedi weren't even known outside of the family.
Which brought Ra back to her current situation. Kyp Durron was a famous Jedi Master. Famous for not so noble reasons, maybe, but famous none the less. Kyp was a wounded soul, Ra could feel it. It radiated off of him like a vapor. It was as if he was trying to prove himself to anyone who would listen. Ra wasn't interested in listening. She had a people to protect. She had greater priorities.
"We have no flying force," Ra said to him to break the silence, "we intend to fight the Vong on the ground."
"So they can rip you apart from the air and never land?" Kyp asked incredulously.
"Our shields are stronger than anything you've ever encountered, Master Durron," Ra said blandly, "if they want to do any damage, they'll have to land."
"A massacre on the ground is still a massacre," Kyp added, "and please call me Kyp. I'm not really used to all this Master formality."
Ky-Ra eyed him as she stopped to open one of the doors to a room.
"It won't be a massacre," she said firmly, "because the Vong haven't met anything like the Ziostians yet. Kyp."
Kyp smiled wryly at the clipped use of his name.
"The Vong have defeated everything that's been thrown at them, including the Jedi. What makes you think your people have a chance?"
"Because if we don't succeed, we'll all die," Ky-Ra said determinedly, "we defeat them or they defeat us. There is no other way."
Massive mirrors, jeweled and imposing, lined the walls of the halls. What was even more spectacular was that ice from the planet was intricately implemented in the construction of the building, making any light that hit it reflect off the ice and mirrors in a sparkling, blinding display. The jewels that were planted everywhere flashed in their own rich elegance. Ra had never not known such a life. Everything about the Ziostians emphasized formality and order. They were the New Republics answer to the Chiss.
Not that Ra had not known casual moments. Her mother, for all the stress of order and propriety, had married below her station by taking Stratus as her regent. Stratus had earned his military ranking by talent, not by birth. He was an incredibly talented man who had fallen in love with the Ky and who had done everything in his power to be worthy of her. Cobra herself had completely defied her counselors by choosing Stratus, a younger man who had no family, over the many other options she had. Not that previous Kys hadn't done the exact same thing. Aran-Ky, Cobra's mother, had married a rogue Imperial agent who had changed sides to the New Republic, and for two generations before that, the Kys had married Jedi. That fact was so closely guarded that the names of the Jedi weren't even known outside of the family.
Which brought Ra back to her current situation. Kyp Durron was a famous Jedi Master. Famous for not so noble reasons, maybe, but famous none the less. Kyp was a wounded soul, Ra could feel it. It radiated off of him like a vapor. It was as if he was trying to prove himself to anyone who would listen. Ra wasn't interested in listening. She had a people to protect. She had greater priorities.
"We have no flying force," Ra said to him to break the silence, "we intend to fight the Vong on the ground."
"So they can rip you apart from the air and never land?" Kyp asked incredulously.
"Our shields are stronger than anything you've ever encountered, Master Durron," Ra said blandly, "if they want to do any damage, they'll have to land."
"A massacre on the ground is still a massacre," Kyp added, "and please call me Kyp. I'm not really used to all this Master formality."
Ky-Ra eyed him as she stopped to open one of the doors to a room.
"It won't be a massacre," she said firmly, "because the Vong haven't met anything like the Ziostians yet. Kyp."
Kyp smiled wryly at the clipped use of his name.
"The Vong have defeated everything that's been thrown at them, including the Jedi. What makes you think your people have a chance?"
"Because if we don't succeed, we'll all die," Ky-Ra said determinedly, "we defeat them or they defeat us. There is no other way."