The flare of a
25HD VIP Transport's quad engines sounded as it swooped down into the landing area. Its landing struts extended and gently absorbed the impact of contact.
The High Chancellor, Dominique Vexx, had been standing in front of a tall mirror on approach. She had already replaced the broken glareshades with a backup; the data synchronization was just completing as they'd drawn near landing. Bright, golden rings regarded her soiled, white uniform. Severe minor cuts and scuffs had mended themselves, but dirt and even a little blood still stained its panels. Part of her wanted to remove it. To appear in pristine condition as she took such pains every day to accomplish. That wouldn't be right, though. After what had just happened they needed more than a politician that to give a stump speech.
Things had been so much easier when she'd been a Senator for the Galactic Alliance. The Corporate Authorities kept mucking things up, but Dominique -- for the most part -- could wrangle the New Jedi Order's attempts to interfere. She didn't miss the CAD, however. Their efforts made matters worse, not better, so while she'd lost much in the process, Dominique had managed to wrest it back.
With greater power came greater responsibility, of course.
The glass nearly empty of water clicked back on a tray as she plucked the shades from where they'd rested. Landing procedures were complete.
"Time to find out what the damage is."
A side door slid open to allow Dominique to descend to Naboo's surface. Ahead, people were beginning to bustle about to tend the wounded and injured. Perhaps even the dead.
"Medical supplies?"
"Initial distribution ratios have been established and supplies currently in motion, Chancellor."
Dominique nodded at the reply. Everyone had their own supplies, but in times like these they were not always enough. She wasn't going to wait for them to ask before they were even in flight. Better too much than too little. Though who needed what was still largely in question until every injury or wound was catalogued. Some supplies were limited in number and the bulk of which would have to wait knowing where they were needed.
Rather than interrupt, Dominique stood a short distance back. She watched and listened to the conversation, and how quickly they tended the grievously injured.
"Anyone that can be spared should be assigned a triage unit like this one to help where they can. And make certain Command is aware I want a full report about this travesty." How had things gone so wrong?
"Make certain I get every update as they arrive." Dominique didn't respond to her aide's expression of confusion why she'd need to say that.
The Chancellor instead moved further in to the crowd. She knelt down beside one of the wounded and took their hand.
"You're safe now. You're home." After a slow smile, Dominique looked up to call over two people to help carry another to the Healing Hall. She took the opportunity near them to ask who was in charge before they hurried off. They needed to prioritize the wounded. Those with life threatening injuries had to come first. If there wasn't someone designated in charge of seeing it done, Dominique would do it herself. It wasn't her first time, though she wished it were the last.
Darth Carnifex
himself, foiling whatever dark designs he had intended for her. Now she was personally carrying her to the Halls of Healing.
