Private Stranger in a Strange Land

[Siae Andronike]

Siae Andronike stepped off the leaking, groaning third-class freighter onto the landing pad of the spaceport on Naboo. The clean air and bright sky were a fresh and welcome change from the odorous, stifling conditions of her conveyance. She stretched and hiked her spacer's duffel to balance it better on her shoulder and slowly blended into the throngs of people moving in all directions across the warm tarmac. She breathed deeply as she approached the customs line, and moments later the stern-looking agent called her to step forward,

"Identi-card." Was all the man said, never quite looking up from his viewscreen.

Siae slid the identi-card to him. A moment of truth, she'd thought. For centuries, the Conclave had used forged cards and papers, suggesting its members came from Adumar, rather than Indoumodo. From a certain point of view, she thought, it wasn't wrong. She had gotten on the freighter on Adumar. The identi-card was made by an expert identity slicer, as good as any one might find, and she hoped the credits she'd paid for it would now prove a worthwhile investment. The card did, indeed, check out. However, the nykkalt and durinium in her armor was the next hurdle to be overcome. As the scanner pulsed, buzzed, and made an awful sound, she knew exactly what was about to come. The poor thing was one of those commercial-grade jobs and her armor confounded it. The agent, already sweating through his uniform and obviously annoyed at the circumstances that led him to this place in life, was about to ask her to step out of line for a…closer inspection.

"This stupid thing isn't working!" Said the man, slapping the box again, "Step aside. Wait for inspection."

Siae smiled softly, then raised her hand, moving from one side to the other. "It's okay. My card checks out. No need for any inspections. I should just be on my way." She spoke calmly.

"Uh, yeah, you know what? Your card checks out. There's no need for inspection. Be on your way." Said the man. Siae merely smiled and nodded and moved along.

As she ascended from the landing pads through to the concourse above, she spied a row of vendors and cautiously looked them over. Food on the freighter was nutri-paste. Bland, chalky, and utterly minimalist in every way. She wanted real food. However, she had very little in the way of real money with which to pay for it. Leaving Indoumodo, she'd been given credits by the "Five", but they weren't exactly of profound means, and she had to make her meager supplies last. She found a small stall, with a dirty-looking Sullustan selling something he seemed to be presenting as a bantha kebab and bottles of water. She decided against asking, as the 'bantha' was no doubt an unfortunate monkey-lizard instead, but beggars couldn't be choosers. She bought a kebab and water, then moved towards a shaded spot on the wall across from the vendors to eat. Sliding her duffel behind her as she sat against the wall, the smell of the roasted meat, perhaps a touch over-spiced to cover its real flavor, filled her nostrils.

"The Force provides," Siae chuckled, echoing something one of her masters had once told her, and took a tenuous but eager bite. Rubbery, spicy, and definitely not fresh meat, it tasted delicious all the same. A following swallow of cold water seemed the perfect pairing.

Aether Verd John Locke

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

NABOO

The armor always drew attention.

Even on a world as civilized as Naboo, with its history steeped in diplomacy and pageantry, the presence of a fully armored Mandalorian still turned heads. Aether did not blame them. Crimson beskar shimmered beneath the midday sun like lacquered blood, and every hiss of his helmet’s breath modulator seemed to quiet the street around him. The vendor had not even asked for his order. He simply gestured toward the spitted meat and fumbled the water bottle into his gloved hand like a man handing tribute to a dragon.

He accepted both with a small nod of thanks and stepped away.

It was his third day in Theed. The trip was not diplomatic in nature, not really. He had already met with the planetary ministers, paid his respects to Naboo’s Crown, and sat through two too many strategy briefings. Today, he was free. And in that rare sliver of personal time, he walked the old streets, retracing the past not as Mand’alor but as Aether.

Back when he was a boy, his father used to bring him here. Just outside the spaceport gates. The stalls were always half a health violation away from being shut down, but that never stopped them.

"The more questionable it looks, the better it tastes." his father would say, handing him skewered meat charred at the corners. Aether used to laugh with a mouth full of spice, grease dripping down his chin, boots too big and eyes even bigger.

It felt right to come back.

He had noticed the traveler ahead of him before he ordered. A woman, by her posture. Worn duffel slung over a shoulder, armor beneath plain clothes, and a glance that scanned more than it lingered. She looked like someone who had seen too many worlds to be impressed by any of them. When she ordered the kebab and water, he made note of it and asked for the same. For nostalgia’s sake, he told himself.

Now, kebab in hand and the salt-scent of grease tickling the filters in his helm, Aether made his way toward the shaded patch of wall where she had settled. She sat alone, duffel tucked behind her, eyes distant.

He stopped a respectful distance away.

“Is this spot taken?” he asked, voice low but clear through the externalizer of his helmet. His tone was casual, nonthreatening. Just a fellow traveler, hungry for a bite and a memory.​

Siae Andronike , John Locke

 

[Siae Andronike]

Siae looked up at the armored stranger, and smiled softly. "Nope, wall seats are free today. You're in luck." She smiled again, adding, "Although, monkey-lizard on a stick is just so-so. No one marinates anymore." She said, with a chuckle and a sigh, happy to see someone's friendly face, even if it was covered in beskar. "Your armor won't protect against the inevitable heartburn, I am afraid, Mandalorian."

Siae slid herself and her duffel over to make room for the large, armored stranger. His crimson armor was by no means common, and his demeanor wasn't the gruff, laconic, and almost ubiquitously haughty style she'd come to expect from followers of the Way. This one was different, somehow. More, she could sense the Force was coursing through him. Very different. Historically, she'd been taught, the Mandalorians were skeptical of the Force, and those sensitive enough to wield it. But this man, this Mandalorian, he practically wore it like he did his armor. Unsettlingly, Siae could sense the Dark Side within him too, but – she forced herself to remember – this was not the galaxy of the holo-books she'd learned in her lessons in the Conclave. She'd visited many worlds, and few of them held the civilized niceties of Naboo, but if her many excursions and forays into the galaxy beyond Indoumodo had taught her anything, it was that the textbooks were woefully out of date.

"What brings you to Naboo? It's a long way from Mandalore. I hear that there's a new Manda'lor. He calls himself the "Beskar" or something, no? And, this time, he is also calling himself 'Emperor'. What are your thoughts?" Siae smiled again. If nothing else, Mandalorians loved to discuss their culture, their war stories, and their world. She had always admired their fierce passion for where they'd come from and the casual loyalty that filled them. Perhaps this one, different as he seemed, wasn't so different after all. As she waited for a reply, half-expecting a grunted dismissal, she took another bite of her kebab. Definitely not bantha, she thought, then refocused her attention on the armored man beside her, rather than to consider the alternatives of what her lunch might actually be.

Aether Verd John Locke