They shuffled out as quickly as decorum would allow. Hester maintained the smile for as long as she dared, Director Toth turning at the door and giving her a knowing smile that silently communicated:
“Sorry about that.”
Hester nodded warmly. It hadn’t been the first lengthy meeting of the week and she thought deliberately on finding someone who could handle such affairs. She had proposed a new city on Scarif, purpose built to house and host a brand-new king of elite. Confederates from across the galaxy would be attracted to set up businesses and homes there, with ready access to the CDF, Krennic Spire and all manner of benefits. The people of Isle Hermoso had been thrilled. It would be far bigger than the capital and would effectively relegate it to the second city of Scarif; this brand new metropolis would even have tall buildings and boulevards and universities and statues and
Beeeeeep
She huffed audibly, in hope that her frustration would be heard through the as-yet-unanswered comm and tell the caller that it had better be worth disturbing her. It was the end of the working cycle in the Spire. She had the rest of the day off. It was the first without a function, without a reception and she had every intention of taking the fullest advantages. She answered the comm.
“
Will you prepare my rooms at Shorehaven for the ‘doncyc’” (the colloquial word for the period where Scarifans had time off during their work cycle)
The voice replied.
“Yes, Excellency. We’ve had a Viceroy request at the Gate.”
Hester paused, her thoughts racing. Who would be visiting her at this time? She had already hosted and seen so many dignitaries and officials over the time since her ascendancy. Five days of chaos. 130 hours of mental agility and athleticism.
The benefits of the Shield Gate they had inherited from the previous occupation was that it prevented wholesale traffic from simply leaving the planet at any juncture it chose. It bottlenecked all space flight, meaning tariffs and import duties were keenly monitored. Essentially, Scarif was a walled planet, easily shut down and with the possibility to cut off any intrusion or escape. It kept crime levels low on the surface; it was difficult to smuggle anything when the PDF could scan and board you before you got planetside.
She yawned. “
Who is it?”
“
It is her Excellency Viceroy Naboo, Her Royal Highness Queen Mila.”
Hester looked up. There wasn’t anybody there, but she looked up nonetheless. She had only a day before learned of the unfortunate death of Mila’s predecessor and Hester had meant to contact her.
And say what, you idiot.
She was right.
Say what? Mila had been a girl when they had last met, barely in her teens.
She isn’t supposed to be Queen.
The other thoughts took her mind elsewhere. What dangers she would find herself in. She would need help. Maybe she wanted guidance or protection or looking after or saving or a place to escape to.
Hester stood and breathed deeply. She remembered.
“Yes, yes. Send her here, to the Spire. I’ll meet her.”
She began to walk away from the large desk she would sit at for such meetings.
“Have an Imperial Suite prepared for her and her party.”
She thought again.
“Prepare a guest suite at Shorehaven. I don’t know where we’re going.”
She blinked.
“Just stand by with everything. Soldiers, escorts, transports.”
She began to walk away to change as quickly as she could.
“And DO NOT feed them anything from chuffing Naboo!”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
5
She hurried down the Spire as quickly as she could. Many floors and levels, down in her own lift. She would meet Mila as soon as she was there. Play the host.
4
Would Mila remember her? Would it be awkward? What if it was awkward?
3
Would she be angry at her? How could she be angry? She knew Hester was meant to do important things and friendships with children, no matter how Royal, would only complicate things.
2
What if she wanted help? A coup? An army? Trade? A palace?
Hester you are panicking and you need to calm…the chuff….down!
1
The doors opened. Hester stood in a cerulean play-suit, large puffed sleeves gathered at a cuffed wrist, a clasped belt holding the silhouette tight, her lapel lined with a simple yet elegant fringing. Her simple yet tailored pants were covered by knee high leathered shoes, imported from Naboo. Hester knew how to dress politically. She looked ever the picture of a Theedian Royal and she wondered if Mila would take it as a joke, compliment, or insult. She had hoped a combination of the first two.
The communique had said
Mila is here. She had dismissed with the formalities for a little while. This was a good sign, a hopeful one. She wrung her hands, walking as stridently as she could. Staffers, officers, and troops ran ragged, unprepared for an official visit from a foreign Viceroy. They had only that morning stood down from receiving guests in High Office and Hester, there and then, decided to always be ready to receive. She wanted to be the life and soul of the Viceroyalty and she would never be caught off guard
ever again.
She found Mila a little farther into the complex than she had hoped she would be. This was not the grand arrival she had hoped to have put on for her. Everybody else had received full honours, a garrison review, a chuffing fly-pass from the soon-to-be-upgraded-and-replaced Navy Fighter squadrons. They had met dignitaries and ambassadors and socialites and played host to various receptions and parties. Mila was lucky if she’d get a spot by the pool at this rate.
She looked remarkable. She was ever the regal sight, flanked by two of her own security personnel. The others would be being seen to outside. Hester came to a stop a few paces before her and smiled, a little out of breath.
“Welcome to Scarif, your Royal Highness.”
She gave a bow, a little lower than perhaps was necessary. She couldn’t help it; she knew Mila would know that Hester found it rather too amusing to be overtly serious.
TAG:
Saraya Arenais
Hester Shedo
