There were certain advantages to no longer existing.
Oh, she was flesh and blood, to be sure. But for these next few months she would be Parra Rinda, Agricorps member. It was surprisingly easy for a Cathar to find a new set of clothes, a new dye job of spots, and become an entirely different person. Who she was, exactly, was simultaneously completely irrelevant and crucial. It was a Jedi Shadow's job to snake her way into different situations, test, poke, prod, and determine what was a threat and what wasn't. Perhaps some before had called her underhanded, but if she could entrap a Jedi into betraying the Code and slipping into the Dark Side, she considered it to be an inevitability. She was merely the catalyst.
Rattatak hung outside the window as the ship came in for a landing, coming closer and closer until it became a firey blur of re-entry. As projects went, this would be a fortunately rather easy one. Observe, report. Perhaps actually do some proper Agricorps work for the struggling world. But mostly observe and take stock of the situation, because it needed to be done. This Asajj Ventress had to be monitored, after all.
The pilot, a weary-looking old cargo shipman, gestured out the window in one sweeping motion as they burst through the hazy clouds. "Welcome to Steadfast, Master Jedi."
It was a dusty gem of a city, framed by wheelspokes of green farms in the red sand. In the middle was a large spire which they slowly circled to slip into one of the main ports. It had once been Ventress' castle, but now it was the main governmental building in the center of the city. A blast of heat hit her face as she walked off the shuttle and slowly looked out at the view. The spire had been cut away from the rock, digging deeply into the earth in a giant trench around it. She could see someone hanging laundry out across the way: the city was cut into the quarry around the spire. At the very bottom, she could see the water covered over with farmed algae, pipes running up to irrigate the wheelspikes of the farms radiating out from the city. Although it was organized and obviously planned, it was also a city that was covered in dust, its inhabitants living in what most of Coruscant would consider to be intolerable poverty. But there was fresh water, steady supplies of food, and freedom from fear. It was the first time many had such luxuries, used to moving from place to place as Rattatak's traditional nomadic tribes battled each other for supremacy.
The old prophecies had told of a slave-born off-worlder who would unite the tribes and usher in a period of peace. They just didn't know that, in another time and place, that savior would be called Darth Vader, and peace would only come under Imperial rule. They were content to accept Asajj Ventress as their Queen.
Stepping off the ship and onto the platform, her nose twitched gently in the breeze. There was a clatter of mechanics rolling in and Parra immediately tensed and her hand went to her lightsaber. The fact that it was a droideka wheeling towards her didn't help matters. "No need for hostilities, please stand down," it chirped. "As per Protocol 510-A of the Coruscant-Rattatak Treaty, all hostile droids have been reprogrammed to Republic specifications." It was only when the droid unrolled into its walking position that she relaxed, able to clearly see where its guns had been removed and replaced with general-purpose grabbing pincers typical of a protocol droid.
"Ah, yes. Of course." Her lightsaber went back on her belt. "My apologies, old habits die hard. I suppose you are here to escort me to my audience with the Queen?"
"Yes, Master Jedi. I am DK-7, protocol and courier droid. If you like, you may call me Dekker." She hadn't remembered droidekas being so cheerful, but it was a welcome change from the war going on in the rest of the galaxy.
"Thank you, Dekker."
"This way, please, Master Jedi."
They came in through the old dungeons. Parra had read the report Master Kenobi wrote of escaping from this place after being tortured. In a way, Parra was somewhat indebted to Ventress: she tested Kenobi more thoroughly than Parra ever could have. Their blooming romance was so unexpected it made perfect sense. At least Kenobi had properly atoned. The dungeons seemed to have made a similar transformation. Now Parra was able to see that cells had become open spaces for cultural enrichment - classes in agriculture - with the occasional courtroom for civil and sensible justice instead of gladiatorial fighting to the death.
"...and to your left, you will see current classes on irrigation. Elevators are this way, please. Do you have any more questions, Master Jedi?"
The elevator's turbolifts whirred into life as the doors closed. She closely watched the snippets of she could see through the elevator windows as if this could give her any information. There were no flashes of the dark side floating through the usual miasma of the Force, there were no startling revelations of blood written on the walls. All was calm.
"And down this corridor is the throne room. I will show you to your quarters now, if you like, Master Jedi."
The walls were rather plain, letting the sandstone's natural beauty show, aside from the occasional pelt of some native animal, and her next course of action seemed very obvious. "No, thank you, Dekker. I think I'll meet with the Queen now."
"Her schedule is fully booked for several..." She strode past the droideka, not bothering to answer it. As if it was somewhat miffed by this, it tucked itself into its rolling state. "As you wish, Master Jedi."
Parra could hear the court talking as soon as she took a few steps forward. "...These water use rights have been our clan's for hundreds of generations! This is simply unfair to dedicate this percentage to this growing operation. We cannot dedicate this level of our resources..."
She was sitting on the throne - some sort of gift from one of the many warring tribes. It was an impressive thing, obviously carved from one solid log to make her look more intimidating, but she seemed to be actively negating this. While rulers of the Hapan Consortium thrived on pomp and it was hard to believe anyone from Naboo knew the definition of casualwear, she was dressed plainly. There were tears in her pants at the knees, as if she had been helping plant in the dirt. Even her jet-black hair was cropped in a utilitarian manner - but not shaved, although it was the main visual difference between her and her Rattataki subjects. The only decorative object were her jewels of state, a heavy mass of platinum-framed rough gemstones, an amalgamation from all the different tribes. Half of them weren't even polished, and the centerpiece - a cut slice of geode - was barely more than a trinket on most planets. But there was still a calm nobility about her, despite all of this.
"Jethan." She interrupted the chieftain's complaining. "There is no longer any your clan or my clan. We are all one clan. If you still think the people would be better off following you, by all means, lead them out into the desert. But I will provide for those who are my subjects. If you think the terms are unfair, bring it up with your fellow representatives in the House of Dreshirs."
"But my Queen -!"
"I am not going to rob my subjects of due process, Dreshir Jethan. Appeal to them, not to me."
"But -!"
"You are dismissed." The crowd murmured, mostly approvingly, and Asajj looked up to catch a glance of Parra. "Ah, our visitor. Welcome."
She stepped forward, bowing lightly at the waist. "Master Parra Rinda of the Jedi Agricorps, at your service, Queen Ventress."
"For all of our sakes, I hope you know a bit of agriculture," Asajj remarked dryly.
Parra paused, raising one eyebrow very carefully. "Of course. I am in the Agricorps."
The Queen's blue gaze was unnerving, even with one side still covered by a practical and plain leather eyepatch. Perhaps Ventress was not as force-blind as they had assured Parra she was. "We both know that's not the case. You're here to make sure the former Sith acolyte doesn't return to her old ways."
A noticeable chill descended over the throne room as it was obvious the two were engaging in a battle of wits. Parra cocked her head to one side and attempted to look innocent. "I cannot say, Queen Ventress."
"I'm sure. Well, I must extend an immediate apology to you."
"An apology?" Parra's other eyebrow raised.
"Because this will likely be the most boring assignment you've ever had, and I am sure that you will soon be understandably frustrated at being stuck here when you could be on the front lines of some battle." A small chuckle came from some of the nobles and representatives in the room; apparently her dry humor was appreciated. "But. Just for your sake." She stood with a small grunt, dusting herself off. "I'm going to do something now which will be especially scandalous."
Both of Parra's ears pricked forward. "Oh?"
"I'm going to take my afternoon break for meditation an entire thirty minutes early."
Whatever response Parra could manage was drowned out by the clamor of those still waiting to see the Queen; the Cathar turned swiftly on her heel back out to the hallway.
"Shall I show you to your quarters, Master Jedi?" The droid Dekker chirped.
"Yes," Parra said. "Please."