Private Naboo Evening

[Ra'a'mah]

The soft glow of Naboo's evening filtered through the office windows, casting long lines across the polished floor. Ra'a'mah Numare rose slightly as Kei entered, eyes calm and attentive. Vincet had escorted him personally, ensuring a smooth, unobtrusive arrival.

"Kei Amadis," she said, voice warm but measured. "It's good to meet you. I am Ra'a'mah Numare." She gestured toward the chair opposite her desk, inclining her head. "Please, have a seat."

"Vincent tells me you're looking for my husband. I would like to hear more about what brought you here—and, of course, make you comfortable while you speak."

Reaching for a small tray at the side, she lifted two glasses. "A drink? Something simple, before we begin?" Her tone was polite and professional, carrying a subtle ease, a signal that the conversation could be direct without being cold.

She settled back slightly, hands folded loosely atop the desk, gaze steady on him. "I will share what I can. I ask only that you exercise the same discretion, given the circumstances."

Kei Amadis

 

[Kei Amadis]

Helmet by his side but ever in armor even here, darker than before, and well-battlescarred. Amadis fixated on Kashyyyk, nothing else in mind. He tried to grin, but it wasn't there. Instead a firm nod to the offer of a drink and his reason for being here, "Thank you. I am." Simple and blunt.

Discretion "My word." Never broken. An unspoken request for the same given all that had happened to them. Drinking a gulp of any offered beverage, not hesitating to consider if it was genuine refreshment.

"Years on the move, things have changed." An understatement. The galaxy never stops turning, for him or anyone else.

Deals had been agreed to supply his forces with ships and weapons, making him self-sufficient and also cut off by the nature of his work. Galactic powers rose and fell like always, Amadis was out of touch.

"Don't trust myself." He answered honestly, a surprising admission out of the blue. Silence hung. Scratching his stubble, his hand rested on a scar under the bristles.

"When those who burned Kashyyyk are in chains. Someone else needs to judge them." Amadis had looked for someone he thought would do a better job. Impartial. Uncorrupted. Not in the fight that day. A man he believed was above reproach. Kei massacring a hotel was far from justice; stopping a prison break was closer. Either way, it shouldn't be him who decides the fate of his captives as they are found.

Prison Ships. Grim. Necessary to stay on the move. Did she have any reports of his activities, or had he done a good job of keeping them off the grid?

Ra'a'mah

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra studied him quietly, the weight of experience in her gaze meeting the steadfastness in his posture. Her hands rested lightly on the edge of the desk, fingers brushing a data pad but leaving it untouched.

"You are searching for Josh Dragovalor," she said evenly, voice calm but deliberate. "I will not pretend that I do not know why you are here, or why discretion must guide every step of that search. He is—was, is—a man whose movements and choices ripple farther than many realize."

Her eyes swept briefly toward the window, the city lights of Naboo reflecting softly in the glass, then back to him.

"You carry purpose, and yet you move carefully. That is wise. Finding him requires more than force of arms or notoriety; it requires patience, awareness, and the ability to see beyond what is immediate."

She inclined her head subtly, offering the faintest acknowledgment of respect. "I cannot give you everything freely. But I can offer perspective and guide you toward understanding which paths might intersect with him. The galaxy is quiet about some things, loud about others, and in both cases, knowing where to look is as valuable as knowing what to see."

A measured gesture brought a glass toward him, filled with amber liquid. "A drink. We can speak in practical terms and leave the rest aside. Josh's choices, his position, his networks—they touch more than you may yet know. And while I am not one to reveal everything, I can offer enough so that your efforts are not blind."

Her gaze held his, calm, measured, and deliberately open without pressing trust. "Shall we begin, Kei Amadis? There is much to discuss, and some things that may yet prove useful in finding him."

Kei Amadis

 

[Kei Amadis]

Kei nodded once, firm. Her words stirred. He had once carried patience. Age and love for family and home had tempered a young warrior into a near-immovable Jedi Master who moved with calm purpose.

Those days were gone.

His fingers tightened around the glass, accepting it with another nod. He had never wanted notoriety or fame. A thousand long-dead names burned brighter than his; the Jedi in him insisted it should be so.

What would they say when he faced them again?

Fool. Failure. Pity him. Darkness rose within his own verdict, finality, and judgment.

The glass threatened to crack in his grip. He grinned instead. He'd share a laugh with some of them. Drinking before the shards bit his palm and keeping the fragile structure whole. The grin faded. For the first time in what felt like an age, he reached into the Force and let it lead. Only to cut the feeling off. She had almost chipped something loose.

Begin. "Yes." Short. Certain. Final.

Networks and hidden ties would help. They might even end this without the brute force blood shedding he now carved through Mandalorian clans. Sensible, even humane, if they actually brought the guilty in alive without violence.

But he still had his integrity. He had built himself on Justice. So to be sure he stated.

"Asking nothing of you or him." There was no tomorrow for any of them fighting this. No good. No moral righteousness. Just cold Justice, and sometimes not even that.

He set the glass down. Amadis had died on Kashyyyk, his choice, and Kei wore the failure as General, Jedi, Husband and Father.

"His wisdom, or yours, takes a lifetime's worth of hard work and struggle to build." He faced her; she clearly held wisdom. "When it ends, however it ends, don't leave their fate in my hands." He almost asked her to judge him too. No point, he knew how this road finished: one day he would move a little slow, a little late, and a Mandalorian would get lucky.

Kei focused on the immediate. Finality. An absolute answer. She might still turn one hinge before the door slammed shut again.

Ra'a'mah