Capital City,
Bothawui
8:00 AM local time
--
Abuwah'ka Tuleev had been sitting at his desk for well over two hours, papers fluttering and a relatively young staff popping their heads in every fifteen minutes to move the Bothan on to the next task. It had been 18 days since Tuleev had been elected Viceroy of Bothawui, the elected representative of his people to the Confederacy of Independent Systems. It had been a spectacular election, the former exile returned to his homeworld to join the ruling class that had rejected him all those years ago. A thin smirk drew across the Bothan's face as he signed a letter to a supporter and donor.
Abuwah'ka Tuleev had, in fact, been dead for many years. Murdered by agents of that political class. The Bothan sitting in the chair, taking his name and sporting fake coloration in his fur and eyes, had taken his friend's name, credentials, and contacts and bent them to serve his purposes. 'Ah but if he could see me now,' the Bothan mused to himself. He cleared this throat, shuffled some papers around, and suppressed the memory of a dead Abuwah and centered himself back on the task at hand: being Abuwah'ka Tuleev.
"Mr. Viceroy," came a voice over the intercom. Tuleev cleared his throat again and pressed the key.
"Yes, Hilaaj?" he responded.
"Exarch Malvern has entered the system. His ship will dock in a few minutes."
"Thank you, Hilaaj." Tuleev sat back in his chair, taking a deep breath. Centering himself once more, he called the Force around him, allowing his presence to slide further into the waves of the Force. While in this office, Tuleev was constantly distracted, but cut out a part of his concentration to partially mask his signature in the Force. Meeting Adron Malvern would require more. More focus, more concentration, and no room for error. It took the Bothan two minutes to match the waves, his concentration wholly devoted to the task, until he would appear to all others just another blip of life connecting to the Force - and no greater than the average non-Force user.
Rising, Tuleev pushed in his chair and headed for the exit. For the last eighteen days he had been handling affairs here on Bothawui, meeting with cabinet secretaries and leaders and important dignitaries in preparation to serve. Today was his first step into the limelight of the Confederacy, his first day of official business that truly involved interacting with the CIS. And he did not miss the significance that it was none other than Exarch Adron Malvern that would foster this introduction. Adron Malvern was second only to the VIcelord, a man of incredible power and prestige. To be frank, a man well above traveing to Bothawui to welcome a new Viceroy.
But Bothawui was different. Surely, it held a strategic point along a major hyperspace lane, a true boon for the ranks and coffers of the CIS. But at one time, in an entirely different role and in an entirely different time, Adron Malvern had ruled Bothawui while in service to the Empire. He was a powerful Sith that had a complicated relationship with Bothawui. Tuleev had been decidedly anti-Empire, and in fact that was what had landed him in a hard labor prison camp and then exile. Granted, Malvern was not the ruler at the time and the two had never met, but they were not exactly natural allies. But of course, in reality, Tuleev was dead. And the Bothan walked through the ancient halls of the Bothan seat of government was a Jedi, no friend to a friend of the Empire, a Sith, a dark side user of any degree.
For a fleeting moment as he stood before the door which led the landing pads, Oriaan Lem'gra hesitated. He was confident in is abilities to mask his presence, even from a powerful force user, and equally confident in his persona and charisma. Even so, Oriaan felt a pang of anxiety. His entire operation, everything he had worked for and all the opportunities he had worked for, could be gone in an instant. But just as quickly as the moment came, it vanished, and only Abuwah'ka Tuleev stood before the closed only.
The large blast doors let out a low mechanical noise as they split apart, revealing the landing pad as it was racked by sheets of rain. While many structures on Bothawui soared high into the skies, the Capitol was famous for its traditional, ground-level architecture. The landing pads started at the edge of the Capitol building, and descended down a large but slopping mountain. The Exarch had, of course, been granted one of the premier landing spots. A low whining cut the otherwise muteness and consistency of the pouring rain, and Abuwah watched as a beautiful ship, flanked by vulture droids, pushed through the lowest cloud's covers.
Wrapping his well-made cloak around him, the emblem of Bothawui and the crest of the Office of Viceroy cramped on his breasts as he tugged it closer, Abuwah stepped out into the rain. The Bothans were a proud people. Proud of their rich heritage, there advanced technologies and culture, and relative wealth and peace. And each Bothan was, himself, prideful. Backstabbing? Calculatingly political. And so as Abuwah stepped up to the pad as the Exarch landed, he was at the back of a group of nearly two dozen diplomats, leaders, and dignitaries. The entire leadership of the Bothan Council, all 15 of them. The former Viceroy, no friend of Abuwah's, stood at the front along with the Speaker of the Council. And several business and diplomatic leaders who fancied themselves as the most important greeter for the Bothan people.
Abuwah sighed to himself as he simply walked around the drenched Bothans, the first to actually step up onto the pad as the ramp descended. The other Bothans scurried to follow him, all (somewhat politely) pressing up to be the first behind the new Viceroy. A relatively young Human stepped off of the ramp, the rain seeming to slide off of his well-made suit, his hair and exposed skin otherwise soaked. Abuwah was surprised. He knew that the Exarch was not yet 30, but the visage of youth was nonetheless off-putting compared to the eyes which held experiences yielding wisdom far beyond his years.
“I'm here to meet with the new Viceroy," came the man's greeting.
"Exarch Malvern," Abuwah greeted, giving an appropriately deep nod. "On behalf of the Bothan people, it is truly a pleasure to make your acquiescence. I am Viceroy Abuwah'ka Tuleev." There was a brief pause, and the end of Abuwah's sentence was muffled by the pouring rain. "Please, let us show you inside and we can get dried off!"
With the Exarch's agreement, Abuwah would turn, allowing the leadership of the Council to step past him and extend their own greetings. Abuwah simply plodded forward through the rain, the large group turning to follow as he passed. The Council and friends undoubtedly all exchanged their own greetings with the Exarch, some perhaps knowing him from his Empire days, but Abuwah is no rush to grovel. He was comfortable in his position and the time he would be spending with the Exarch.
After returning inside, several aides led the party - which had by this time grown to at least three dozen - into a large reception room. While the purpose of the Exarch's visit was to meet Abuwah, perhaps among others, the Bothans would be remiss if they did not celebrate the arrival of such an important dignitary with political jockeying, self-serving proposals, and a flight of other maneuvers that Abuwah, quite frankly, found somewhat annoying. Nonetheless, he kept a pleasant demeanor as he got himself a small drink from the bar and stood surveying the carnage he had led into the room.
There were, now, over 50 people in the room, and a small band playing. No less than half the room was immediately surrounding the Exarch, peppering him with greetings and reminders of past meetings and proposals for quid-pro-quos with varying degrees of subtlety and finesse. Abuwah simply watched, knowing that the Exarch would make his way to him when the requisite Bothan mingling had been completed. Adron was no doubt very familiar with the Bothan way of politiking. Abuwah was in no rush.
