Ra'a'mah
Baroness
Ra'a'mah read the summary twice.
Not because it was difficult to understand, but because people who built themselves honestly from modest beginnings were rarer than those who inherited power and pretended they had forged it. Farming stock. Military discipline. Injury. Reinvention. Salvage into industry. Personal loss carried without spectacle. Influence earned one practical decision at a time.
That interested her more than titles ever did.
She considered the best setting for such a meeting. Not a gala. Not a public reception where too many eyes mistook noise for importance. Not a station lounge full of listeners pretending not to listen.
Naboo.
Civilized, discreet, and elegant without needing to announce itself.
Her office was private, efficient, and carefully chosen to reveal only what she wished revealed.
The message she sent was concise.
Mr. Dashiell,
Your name has crossed my desk more than once, and always attached to something built rather than merely acquired. I tend to respect that distinction.
You have navigated agriculture, military service, recovery, salvage, and corporate expansion with a degree of resilience many speak of, and few demonstrate. It suggests a man who understands both cost and momentum.
If your schedule permits, I would like to invite you to meet with me on Naboo.
My office is in Theed, where privacy is easier to secure than on most worlds, and conversation can proceed without unnecessary interruption. I believe there may be areas of mutual interest regarding logistics, regional influence, and opportunities best discussed directly rather than through intermediaries.
No ceremony is required. Merely a candid conversation between two people who understand that movement, whether of goods, capital, or power, is rarely accidental.
If agreeable, send your preferred arrival window, and accommodations will be arranged.
Ra'a'mah Numare
She reviewed it once, then sent it without embellishment. A man like Judah Dashiell would likely trust plain competence more than polished flattery.
Judah Dashiell
Not because it was difficult to understand, but because people who built themselves honestly from modest beginnings were rarer than those who inherited power and pretended they had forged it. Farming stock. Military discipline. Injury. Reinvention. Salvage into industry. Personal loss carried without spectacle. Influence earned one practical decision at a time.
That interested her more than titles ever did.
She considered the best setting for such a meeting. Not a gala. Not a public reception where too many eyes mistook noise for importance. Not a station lounge full of listeners pretending not to listen.
Naboo.
Civilized, discreet, and elegant without needing to announce itself.
Her office was private, efficient, and carefully chosen to reveal only what she wished revealed.
The message she sent was concise.
Mr. Dashiell,
Your name has crossed my desk more than once, and always attached to something built rather than merely acquired. I tend to respect that distinction.
You have navigated agriculture, military service, recovery, salvage, and corporate expansion with a degree of resilience many speak of, and few demonstrate. It suggests a man who understands both cost and momentum.
If your schedule permits, I would like to invite you to meet with me on Naboo.
My office is in Theed, where privacy is easier to secure than on most worlds, and conversation can proceed without unnecessary interruption. I believe there may be areas of mutual interest regarding logistics, regional influence, and opportunities best discussed directly rather than through intermediaries.
No ceremony is required. Merely a candid conversation between two people who understand that movement, whether of goods, capital, or power, is rarely accidental.
If agreeable, send your preferred arrival window, and accommodations will be arranged.
Ra'a'mah Numare
She reviewed it once, then sent it without embellishment. A man like Judah Dashiell would likely trust plain competence more than polished flattery.
Judah Dashiell