Hester Shedo
Character
Day One
Inevitable was a word laden with expectation. It was a heavy, deliberate word that would weigh heavily on anyone person that was confronted with it. She had been told her ascension to the highest office in the system was ‘inevitable’ since she had been a teenage girl.
She did not like the word. No, she did not like the connotations it carried. It meant, in the wrong tone of voice, that she would achieve it with no effort on her part. It meant it would fall into her lap without her having to lift a finger.
Hester Shedo had lifted more than a finger to get to the Viceroy’s office. She had trained and studied to be shrewd, calculating, and mindful of those around her. She had had tutors fired and hired on her say so. She had instigated reforms at her academy that meant she could win the class presidency for more than a single term, as was customary. She had seduced her late husband with great affect. She had captured the hearts and minds of the people of Scarif and she had absolutely no intention of Letting. Them. Go.
Scarif had changed hands numerous times in the last ten years alone. From rebel occupiers to Imperial masters and, finally, as a temperate jewel for the Confederacy. It suited the people best, she thought. She had never cared much for the various interlopers and overlords growing up in Isle Hermoso. The Imperials had certainly changed things. They had built a monolith to science; a great tower filled with research stations, weapons facilities, communications arrays, everything to feed the beast of war and progress. The imposing planetary defences guarded the skies with great effectiveness, the comings and goings of commercial ships and the increased military presence in the system. It also acted as a staging base for orbital capital ships and a detention centre for anybody kept from entering the planet’s atmosphere.
Krennic’s Spire
Nothing spoke more of a masculine inferiority complex than creating a large, tall, protruding symbol into the sky and filling the base of it with all man’s knowledge. She would get to see inside it today. She would get to go to the Viceroy’s offices inside it.
---------------------------------
She was up. She was awake and about her room. She sat on the end of her large bed, the one she had shared with her late husband for some years before his tragic death out in the pools and shallows near the city’s edge. The holonews had been so careful with the wording.
‘Beloved local leader found dead near White Waters Resort.’
She still could not believe it. Nobody could. It had seemed inevitable that he would ascend to the new Viceroyalty.
’oh…that word again’, she thought.
They had been a glamorous pair; she the femme-electric that had garnered the praise of the planetary populace and of occupying Imperial officials. He, the sensible and worldly figure that had championed the rights of the middle classes, and paid dues to the elites. He had stomped out the cartels, the Hutts practically banished from the planet. He, as a chief councillor, had made sweeping changes to the very face of the Isle, encouraging sprawling boulevards, so often likened to Naboo.
Naboo. The planet that launched the end of the ancient Republic of old. The fabled legends that surrounded it meant nothing to Shedo. She did not care if it was wiped from the face of the galactic map. Scarif was no second-player to Naboo.
She combed her auburn hair and nodded calmly into her mirror. She wouldn’t have to do this tomorrow morning. There would be somebody to do it for her. She hadn’t decided whether it would be a droid or a human yet. They both had their perks. Droids were corruptible and humourless. Humans were corruptible and would talk. Idly chatting was always a good way of getting an intrigue or plot or rumour started very rapidly in particular circles. Perhaps a human would do nicely. A young woman from The Stacks. She wouldn’t be connected. Easily replaced. Easily disposed of.
==========================================================
What to wear? What to wear the day after her swearing-in ceremony? She could go with something regal that said:
“I am above the people. I am royal. I am a walking deity”
She could settle for:
“I am sleek and modern and invite the galaxy to see our shores”
The exceptional presence of the Dauntless Corps on Scarif had made for interesting politics. Their somewhat guaranteed autonomy meant they kept themselves to themselves…she hoped. She would answer to Grand Marshall Terrik if she so deigned and no amount of bluster or pomp would deny her. She smiled to herself. She would be finally allowed into Camp Phoenix. The hidden thorn in the rose of Scarif. Aside from her beaches and her islands and her tropical beauty, Scarif was home to the might of the Confederate military, buried beneath her surface.
She mused. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be as easy a 'walk-on-the-sand' as she had first mused. The drinks, the heady conversation, the witty retorts, the sardonic ego massaging These are the trappings of Viceroy-hood, not scrapping to military directors. She would have to be careful not to displease them. She hoped they would keep themselves to themselves as much as she dared. It would certainly keep the populace in check.
It would also attract lucrative dealings-the research facilities on Scarif were exemplary and knowing that the prized CIS military was there on their doorstep would be too much for some to contest.
She slipped her hand onto the table-side communicator.
“I’m ready”
===================================================
The ride through the skies of Isle Hermoso was a quiet affair, the revelry of the night before wearing off where it should, by all rights, be, in the respective beds of the citizens. She could see the Spire in clear view; everywhere you looked you could see the giant co…The Spire. This would be where she would live. She could live in the Viceroy’s residence in all its Imperial splendour, but she wanted to be at the heart of business, straddling the commerce of research and knowledge that radiated from the Spire. The names of brilliant corporations sat in the records of the commerce ledgers, each claiming a little bit of planet’s mystique for its own.
She looked one last look across the city below her. This was the beginning of a new time for the planet, a planet ready to take its place in the heart of CIS life. No longer a backwater obscurity. It would be a destination for commerce and trade and pleasure and military might and knowledge and power. The Confederacy would know Scarif and they would know her name.
=========================================================
Director Lileth Toth made herself as tall as she could. Hester smirked as she raised out her hand.
“Director, I am so pleased you could meet me today. “
She looked up at the imposing Spire and breathed it in; she could taste the majesty and scale of this moment.
Inevitable
Toth nodded, her blond hair almost tumbling from under her uniformed cap.
“We’ve prepared the residency and the quarters for your arrival. We can make our way there now, if you’d like.”
Shedo looked at the few reporters, catching glimpses of footage of their new Viceroy to be shown to the masses. Her masses. Her people.
Inevitable, they had uttered in the quiet spaces of public congregation.
She spoke.
“Yes. I’d like that very much.”
Hester’s long green robe billowed at the base of the Spire, the wind catching it and creating flutters of sweeping material. Picture perfect. The winds of change, they would say. A new dawn ushered in.
----------------------------------------------
“This is it!”
Toth opened the large doors to reveal the suite of offices and rooms, set atop the Spire, that were meant for Hester Shedo, Viceroy of Scarif. Viceroy of Scarif.
She breathed it in again; power. Duty. Integrity. Powerful, powerful integrity.
She made her way to the large transparent frame that took the place of the entire north side of the room. It faced the sea. The crisp, beautiful sea. She had never seen anything more beautiful in her life. Her sea. Her office. Her View.
“I’ll take any of my guests or correspondences now.”
Inevitable was a word laden with expectation. It was a heavy, deliberate word that would weigh heavily on anyone person that was confronted with it. She had been told her ascension to the highest office in the system was ‘inevitable’ since she had been a teenage girl.
She did not like the word. No, she did not like the connotations it carried. It meant, in the wrong tone of voice, that she would achieve it with no effort on her part. It meant it would fall into her lap without her having to lift a finger.
Hester Shedo had lifted more than a finger to get to the Viceroy’s office. She had trained and studied to be shrewd, calculating, and mindful of those around her. She had had tutors fired and hired on her say so. She had instigated reforms at her academy that meant she could win the class presidency for more than a single term, as was customary. She had seduced her late husband with great affect. She had captured the hearts and minds of the people of Scarif and she had absolutely no intention of Letting. Them. Go.
Scarif had changed hands numerous times in the last ten years alone. From rebel occupiers to Imperial masters and, finally, as a temperate jewel for the Confederacy. It suited the people best, she thought. She had never cared much for the various interlopers and overlords growing up in Isle Hermoso. The Imperials had certainly changed things. They had built a monolith to science; a great tower filled with research stations, weapons facilities, communications arrays, everything to feed the beast of war and progress. The imposing planetary defences guarded the skies with great effectiveness, the comings and goings of commercial ships and the increased military presence in the system. It also acted as a staging base for orbital capital ships and a detention centre for anybody kept from entering the planet’s atmosphere.
Krennic’s Spire
Nothing spoke more of a masculine inferiority complex than creating a large, tall, protruding symbol into the sky and filling the base of it with all man’s knowledge. She would get to see inside it today. She would get to go to the Viceroy’s offices inside it.
---------------------------------
She was up. She was awake and about her room. She sat on the end of her large bed, the one she had shared with her late husband for some years before his tragic death out in the pools and shallows near the city’s edge. The holonews had been so careful with the wording.
‘Beloved local leader found dead near White Waters Resort.’
She still could not believe it. Nobody could. It had seemed inevitable that he would ascend to the new Viceroyalty.
’oh…that word again’, she thought.
They had been a glamorous pair; she the femme-electric that had garnered the praise of the planetary populace and of occupying Imperial officials. He, the sensible and worldly figure that had championed the rights of the middle classes, and paid dues to the elites. He had stomped out the cartels, the Hutts practically banished from the planet. He, as a chief councillor, had made sweeping changes to the very face of the Isle, encouraging sprawling boulevards, so often likened to Naboo.
Naboo. The planet that launched the end of the ancient Republic of old. The fabled legends that surrounded it meant nothing to Shedo. She did not care if it was wiped from the face of the galactic map. Scarif was no second-player to Naboo.
She combed her auburn hair and nodded calmly into her mirror. She wouldn’t have to do this tomorrow morning. There would be somebody to do it for her. She hadn’t decided whether it would be a droid or a human yet. They both had their perks. Droids were corruptible and humourless. Humans were corruptible and would talk. Idly chatting was always a good way of getting an intrigue or plot or rumour started very rapidly in particular circles. Perhaps a human would do nicely. A young woman from The Stacks. She wouldn’t be connected. Easily replaced. Easily disposed of.
==========================================================
What to wear? What to wear the day after her swearing-in ceremony? She could go with something regal that said:
“I am above the people. I am royal. I am a walking deity”
She could settle for:
“I am sleek and modern and invite the galaxy to see our shores”
The exceptional presence of the Dauntless Corps on Scarif had made for interesting politics. Their somewhat guaranteed autonomy meant they kept themselves to themselves…she hoped. She would answer to Grand Marshall Terrik if she so deigned and no amount of bluster or pomp would deny her. She smiled to herself. She would be finally allowed into Camp Phoenix. The hidden thorn in the rose of Scarif. Aside from her beaches and her islands and her tropical beauty, Scarif was home to the might of the Confederate military, buried beneath her surface.
She mused. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be as easy a 'walk-on-the-sand' as she had first mused. The drinks, the heady conversation, the witty retorts, the sardonic ego massaging These are the trappings of Viceroy-hood, not scrapping to military directors. She would have to be careful not to displease them. She hoped they would keep themselves to themselves as much as she dared. It would certainly keep the populace in check.
It would also attract lucrative dealings-the research facilities on Scarif were exemplary and knowing that the prized CIS military was there on their doorstep would be too much for some to contest.
She slipped her hand onto the table-side communicator.
“I’m ready”
===================================================
The ride through the skies of Isle Hermoso was a quiet affair, the revelry of the night before wearing off where it should, by all rights, be, in the respective beds of the citizens. She could see the Spire in clear view; everywhere you looked you could see the giant co…The Spire. This would be where she would live. She could live in the Viceroy’s residence in all its Imperial splendour, but she wanted to be at the heart of business, straddling the commerce of research and knowledge that radiated from the Spire. The names of brilliant corporations sat in the records of the commerce ledgers, each claiming a little bit of planet’s mystique for its own.
She looked one last look across the city below her. This was the beginning of a new time for the planet, a planet ready to take its place in the heart of CIS life. No longer a backwater obscurity. It would be a destination for commerce and trade and pleasure and military might and knowledge and power. The Confederacy would know Scarif and they would know her name.
=========================================================
Director Lileth Toth made herself as tall as she could. Hester smirked as she raised out her hand.
“Director, I am so pleased you could meet me today. “
She looked up at the imposing Spire and breathed it in; she could taste the majesty and scale of this moment.
Inevitable
Toth nodded, her blond hair almost tumbling from under her uniformed cap.
“We’ve prepared the residency and the quarters for your arrival. We can make our way there now, if you’d like.”
Shedo looked at the few reporters, catching glimpses of footage of their new Viceroy to be shown to the masses. Her masses. Her people.
Inevitable, they had uttered in the quiet spaces of public congregation.
She spoke.
“Yes. I’d like that very much.”
Hester’s long green robe billowed at the base of the Spire, the wind catching it and creating flutters of sweeping material. Picture perfect. The winds of change, they would say. A new dawn ushered in.
----------------------------------------------
“This is it!”
Toth opened the large doors to reveal the suite of offices and rooms, set atop the Spire, that were meant for Hester Shedo, Viceroy of Scarif. Viceroy of Scarif.
She breathed it in again; power. Duty. Integrity. Powerful, powerful integrity.
She made her way to the large transparent frame that took the place of the entire north side of the room. It faced the sea. The crisp, beautiful sea. She had never seen anything more beautiful in her life. Her sea. Her office. Her View.
“I’ll take any of my guests or correspondences now.”
