Cᴏᴍᴍᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ
Gram Arranda
The Senate place on Naboo looks like it's meant to calm everyone down, with all that soft light coming through the big stone arches and hitting the shiny floors. There are these shallow pools too, reflecting everything, and you can smell the vines outside on the terraces. I guess the builders figured that kind of setup would make people think straight about running things.
Shiyan Zouh wasn't buying it though. She was off by herself, away from the groups of senators and their aides, legs crossed and sitting up straight even if she looked relaxed. Her glass of rum sat there half empty, the stuff from Corellia that's pretty strong, and she tilted it to watch the liquid move around before it settled. It felt real, at least, not like the games people play in politics.
Her eyes, those black ones, kept going over to the entrance of the main chamber down the hall. All these senators walking in and out, dressed up in robes or suits, representing places with long histories, trade routes all mapped out, even their own ships for protection and official stamps from way back.
Tarnoonga didn't have any of that going for it. Back in the day, it was just a spot for pirates, nothing claimed or sorry about it. Now the people there are into trading, building ships, guiding routes, trying to shake off that old reputation. They pay what they owe, stick to the rules on shipping, and even send out boats to help fight the Republic's battles from time to time.
But when they put in for official status, it became tuck in review. That just means the Republic's bureaucracy was dragging their feet.
And dragging means trouble for everyone back home. Without the full nod, there's no real safety net, no promise from the big fleet to step in, no money for building stuff up. They get by, maybe seen as helpful, but not really part of the Republic proper.
She sipped the rum slow, and it hit right, burning a bit. Her face had that sharp Duros look, but her eyes stayed still like a Neimoidian figuring things out. She wasnt here just to hang around. This trip was about locking in something solid for the future.
Over there, a few senators were chuckling about farm money, like deciding on crop amounts was the worst problem out there. Shiyan's jaw went tight. It kind of annoyed her, that casual talk.
Recognition isn't some fancy event. It's about making it or not, survival basically. Her little comm device was quiet on the table next to the datapad, with the petition file pulled up, all the changes and adds and supports she got, but it still wasn't enough somehow. Shed talked in meetings, worked out deals on trade, promised paths for patrols and spots to dock.
How much more do they want, really, to see that old pirate types can turn into regular folks under the law? Another sip, not as big.
She let out a breath, trying to keep steady. Frustration builds up, sure, but you can't show it all the time. The next chance to speak up, or whatever talk comes along, shed jump on it.
Tarnoonga won't stay forgotten in the records. And leaving without something? That wasn't happening.
