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

 

[Aether Verd]

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

NABOO

Aether gave a small tilt of his head in thanks and settled beside her with a quiet hiss of hydraulics and armor plates. The stone was still warm from the sun, and the wall behind them cast a deep shadow that cut the heat just enough.

“Appreciate it.” he said simply.

He raised the kebab in a gloved hand, then lifted the front of his helmet just high enough to take a bite. The hiss of vacuum seal broke the moment before the meat met his teeth. Charred edges. Just enough grease. Smoke. A flash of heat on the tongue. He chewed, thoughtful.

Then chuckled.

“You’re right,” he said, helmet still half-raised. “No one marinates anymore.”

The bite wasn’t bad. Just… different. It was good in the way things were good when your expectations were low and the memory was sweeter. When the world was smaller. When your father stood beside you and made even street meat feel sacred.

“Used to taste better when I was a kid,” he said, lowering the helmet back into place with a soft click. “Could be the cook. Could be the years. Either way, I’ll brave the heartburn. Nostalgia taxes the gut, it turns out.”

He took another bite, slower this time, then unscrewed the cap of the water bottle. The first sip was clean, icy, perfect. Naboo’s water always had a certain pride to it. Even their plumbing had decorum.

Aether wiped a gloved thumb across the bottle’s lip before resting it against his thigh.

Her question lingered. The kind that told you something about the person asking it.

He glanced her way. “Mmm,” he mused aloud, voice low behind the modulator. “I’m here rubbing elbows. Nobles, ministers, a few dignitaries who make boredom feel like an art form. They say you should see the heart of a world if you mean to understand it. So. Here I am.”

He paused, then let out a dry little breath of amusement.

“As for the new Mand’alor…” He turned his helm slightly, as if confiding a secret. “He calls himself Iron, actually. Has a flair for names.”

Aether let the words sit.

Then added with just enough weight behind them to be felt:

“I would know.”

He didn’t puff his chest or shift his voice. He didn’t need to. He simply watched her, tone unassuming, as if he were still just another traveler on a break from the past.

“Though I can’t speak to the Emperor part,” he added, a snarky edge entering his tone. “Sounds exhausting.”

He took one last bite, savoring it despite the flaws, then leaned back a little against the wall, the silence between them open, welcoming, even. Not the kind that shut down conversation.

But the kind that made room for it.​

Siae Andronike

 

[Siae Andronike]

"A Mandalorian diplomat," Siae began, considering the notion, "Do they make those? Isn't that like a Hutt being a runway model - just not a role one might imagine for them?" She grinned, taking another bite of the mystery meat kebab.

"Nostalgia eh, so you must have spent some time here, and by your tone, I gather you have traveled extensively? I have done some also, though rarely was it any opportunity to explore the worlds and cultures there. More..." Siae paused, considering how best to go on, "More of a scavenger hunt than a holiday, if that makes sense."

"But, here I am now. Free, blight, and old enough to know better, and just trying to figure out what's next, you know?"

Siae finished her kebab, and with practiced accuracy, threw the skewer like a dart, easily landing it into the rubbish bin about twenty meters from them. Leaning back against her duffel, she breathed deeply, grateful for the welcome feeling of actual food - such as it was - settling in her stomach. She savored the mid-day sunlight as it fell onto her face, a rare moment of peace.

"Iron, huh? Not altogether original but suited to Mandalorian aesthetics. Better the iron than cubism, am I right?" She grinned again, "And, yeah, I imagine being 'emperor' is a taxing job, what with the budget meetings, the ins and outs of infrastructure development, those pesky crusades always getting in the way of a good time. I don't blame you for being a diplomat. It's been my experience that Mandalorians are people of action, rather than negotiation. Honestly, I admire that...the 'Codes' of your people, being willing and ready to defend what is yours and what you believe in. It's something I was raised with too, although perhaps a scosh differently than you."

Siae earnestly meant to continue the conversation, grateful for a friendly and seemingly decent company after all. "Tell me, noble Mando, what's your name? Mine is," Siae paused, considering revealing her name, then opting to go ahead she continued, "Siae...Siae Andronike."

Aether Verd John Locke

 

[Aether Verd]

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

NABOO

Aether let out a low chuckle, shoulders shifting slightly under the weight of his armor.

“Hold on now,” he said, voice colored with amusement. “Mandalorian diplomat is a stretch.”

He took another bite of his kebab, chewing slowly as she spoke. There was a rhythm to the way she talked: honest, a little wry, tinged with the sort of reflection that came from people who’d seen more than their fair share.

He nodded along.

“Visited Naboo a lot as a kid,” he said after a moment, glancing toward the skyline like it might remember him. “My father’s work had him here often. Back then, it was all grand halls and foreign accents. The kind of place that made you sit up straighter, even when no one was watching.”

He took another sip of water, then leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow against his thigh.

“But otherwise? I stuck close to home. Krant. The Shiraya Expanse. Mandalore.”

Places with less ceremony, more gravity.

She joked about the name, Iron, and he gave a quiet grunt that might’ve passed for a laugh. “Not altogether original, you’re right. But I chose it for what it represents. Beskar’s the lifeblood of our people. We wear it from the cradle to the pyre. It’s more than armor: it’s inheritance. Memory. Identity.”

His gaze softened just slightly, unseen behind the helm, but audible in the weight of his words.

“I want my reign to be like that. Steadfast. Enduring. Not flashy, not loud. Just something they can count on when everything else falls apart.”

He leaned back, one boot shifting against the cobbled edge of the plaza.

“Sure, there’s demand. Budget meetings, infrastructure planning, peace treaties, trade disputes…” He exhaled, a dry edge to the list. “But if that’s the price to make sure our clans don’t go hungry, don’t splinter? I’ll show up early to every meeting with caf in hand and a smile on my face.”

Her mention of codes drew a hum from him.

“You said you were raised with codes too. I’m curious...what kind? Warrior tradition? Family doctrine? Or something else?”

When she finally gave her name, there was something clear-eyed in the way she said it. Like a line drawn in sand...cautious, but willing.

Aether inclined his head. “Well met, Siae Andronike.”

He gave a faint smile, voice easy now.

“My name is Aether Verd.”

No fanfare. No titles. Just the name. The man beneath the helm.

And with that, he took another bite of his kebab, content to let the next question be hers.​

Siae Andronike + John Locke

 

[John Locke]

"Sounds like you've discovered the wonders of leadership there."

It was almost a ritual. Every flight back from off planet when he was stopping off in Thebes and he'd pick up a kebab from the vendor outside the spaceport as a little treat to himself. Just a few moments to vanish into the crowd that milled around the spaceport before he'd head back to the office, and whatever crisis or issue was waiting for him there. However, it seemed that today he'd have some company while eating. The man gave Aether a nod as he held kebab away from his suit, it would hardly do to show up at the office with a ruined outfit, hardly the professional look he tended to strive for.

"You know, I always thought that honour was the lifeblood o the Mandalorians The galaxy is full off all kinds of well spoken, or impressive folks who can talk a good game, but when it comes down to it they'll fold. I've always found, love them or hat them, if a Mandalorians swears to something then you know it's true…unless it's your father swearing that he beat me at chess cause we all know what tall tales he likes to weave. This one time he told me how he threw his apprentice off a cliff, as if he'd ever do that."

The man's dark eyes twinkled with humour for a moment as he let the memory of the moment soak in before the corner of his lips twitched up into a fond smile. While the world shifted and changed, there was some comfort in knowing that some things never would.

The older man's eyes slid past Ather to offer the Mandalorian's companion a small nod of greeting.

"My apologies for intruding in your conversation Ms Andronike, I saw Aether here and deiced to come and say hi for a moment."

Aether Verd | Siae Andronike

 

[Siae Andronike]

"The more the merrier." Siae motioned to the stranger, making room for him to join them. She turned to Aether, taking the totality of his words into review, then spoke – her lips curling into a wry smile, "Wait…you chose the name? You're telling me, honestly, that the man in the very hard shirt, eating something that we're all just agreeing is bantha, contrary to instinct, is the freakin' Mandalorian Emperor?" Siae paused, "I have been on Naboo less than an hour, and I am sitting here with the Mandalorian Emperor. That's…well, it's nice to make your acquaintance, Aether Verd." Siae extended her hand to the man.

Turning to the other man, she spoke, "And you're…? I presume you know Aether's father quite well. But you don't seem to be a Mandalorian either." Siae looked into his eyes, noting the faint presence of something cybernetic within him. It was 'masked', but not enough to slip past a Conclave Warden.

"So, I assume your father was Emperor too?" Siae asked. "Not to brag or anything, but mine's an art teacher."

Siae paused, waiting to reply to Aether's question, but – she said to herself – why the frak not? Throwing caution to the wind, she spoke, "I…I went to a different kind of school. It's…it's um, closed, now. I was the last one to um, graduate. Recently, actually, but it…it was an experience." Siae shifted a bit, allowing her mind to settle the many changes and revelations she'd experienced as she waited for the men's response.

Aether Verd John Locke

 

[Aether Verd]

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

NABOO

Aether set the remainder of his kebab aside, then reached out and clasped Siae’s hand with a firm, respectful grip, his touch warm despite the metal of his gauntlet. “The pleasure is all mine.” he said with a quiet kind of sincerity. “And you’re not wrong, I did choose the name. Might’ve missed my chance to go with something more dramatic like 'The Mawstorm' or 'Emperor Flameheart,' but I figure one honest word carries more weight than ten grand ones.”

His gaze lingered for a moment as she mentioned her school, not missing the way she framed it. Aether nodded, his tone softening. “The last to graduate... that’s no small thing. You carry more than just the lessons, then. You carry the legacy. The weight. Not everyone could stand up under that.” There was no pity in the way he said it, only respect, threaded with something quieter beneath the words. Understanding, maybe.

Movement caught the corner of his eye, and when he turned to see the suited man approaching, Aether’s entire demeanor shifted. His voice lifted with sudden warmth, and without waiting for formality, he rose slightly and reached out, throwing one arm around the man in a half-embrace that could only be described as unapologetically familial.

“Uncle!”

Aether chuckled as he stepped back, gesturing toward the man like he was revealing a secret. “This right here is John Locke. One of the Galaxy’s most brilliant minds and, on top of that, one of my favorite people walking it.” He gestured to the space beside them. “Join us. Steal some time before the next crisis tries to blow up your inbox.”

Then, with a wry grin directed toward John, he added, “And let the record show, my father beat the brakes off you in chess. Every single time. The cliff story? Sounds about right to me. If you’re not getting thrown off cliffs, is it even real training?”

His tone was playful but fond, eyes flicking between the two with an ease that hadn’t been there earlier. This moment, here, with old memories and new acquaintances, felt almost like home.​

John Locke , Siae Andronike

 

[John Locke]

"Not an emperor no, a maths teacher and a salesman, not exactly the stuff legends are made of, but they did their best by us."

Life for the Locke family on Corellia hadn't been easy, they'd never been truly poor but more often than not the family forwent vacations and the luxuries taken by their relatives in order to eke out those small amenities they wanted. Little things like being able to go out to eat once in a while, or sneaking off to buy a kebab from a street vendor as a treat. Now, he had all the money in the world, but still there was something about the kebab vendor that remained packed with all the seasoning that only memories could bring.

A wry smile danced across the man's features the man's lips, slipping an arm around Aether's shoulders to squeeze them for a moment before shifting back to catch his food before it could slip.

"He would tell you that wouldn't he?"

A laugh escaped John's lips as he nodded amiably in Siae's direction

"Nice to meet you, now I'm going to have to manufacture some kind of crisis to live up to that kind of praise. And there's nothing wrong with alternative education, the most important lessons I ever learned were in a mechanics shop, I learned more there than I ever did in any real school."

Siae Andronike | Aether Verd