[center][color=dcb246][h3]The Durasteel Palace[/h3][/color][sup][i]written in collaboration with [@Auz] and [@boomerremover][/i][/sup][/center]
Despite its utilitarian exterior, the interior of the Republic base of operations was a richly-decorated building consisting of a vast central chamber surrounded by numerous doorways on the first and second story. Its durasteel walls were lined with vibrant ceramics, whole segments of stone walls decorated with bas-relief, and excavated artefacts of jade and silver and gold—and beside each of these treasures stood Blackspur mercenaries in suits of sleek durasteel with blaster rifles at the ready. It smelled sterile like a medbay, and the air was air-conditioned to provide comfort despite the uniforms mandated for Blackspur and Republic personnel alike—the building was more akin to spacecraft than anything else.

As the Jedi entered the building, a cadre of Blackspur snipers drew beads on each Jedi’s chest from a promontory high above them until the secretary, his eyes flitting between the lightsabers each Jedi wore, called the guards to stand down. His fingers began flying across a datapad as he told the wayward Jedi to “Hold just a minute!”

It took but a moment for him to indicate a Blackspur escort to lead the Jedi party up the stairs into the office of the encampment’s leader. This late in the evening, most of the officials were asleep, but they passed through a smattering of people of differing species who spoke in a variety of different languages but all wore the same sharp double-breasted uniforms in dark green that marked allegiance to the Governor of Merano’s branch of the Republic Defense Coalition. Each paid the Jedi looks when they thought the three of them were not looking, but said little as the strangers passed. When at last the Jedi arrived at the office at the back of the building, their escort pulled aside as the doors slid open.

Compared to the rest of the facility, the room was sparse and cold, being a small office with only a desk and adjacent terminal atop a dais, a door to one side, and a large window facing the cool purples of the Bunumi landscape beyond. A lanky man wearing a crisp-pressed Merano uniform and a carefully-maintained moustache rose from his seat at the desk as soon as he heard the sharp hiss of the door opening.

“It’s not very often that we have the distinct pleasure of welcoming Jedi!” he exclaimed in a genteel Coruscanti accent as the Jedi came in, offering a bright and picture-perfect smile to each of the visitors and extending his hand in greeting. “I, dear Masters, am Viceroy Edburn Gaff, the aide to the rightful governor of this territory, Selaré Prem, as well as the official representative of the Merano system on Bunum. If I may be of any use to the Jedi Order, please, but give the word. Now tell me: what may I do for you?”

Sunao slicked back his hair, catching a few of the off-shoots that had been re-ruffled when he had passed an air-conditioning unit. Despite his initial hope, the trip down the corridors of the Republic base had only made him feel worse. He had become acutely aware of his appearance upon their entrance, feeling a tinge of rose colour his cheeks as those around the trio looked on. Quickly removing his tattered robe, the young Padawan had folded it over his arm, furiously tucking in any bits of tunic that’d come loose. Subtly dipping his head towards his armpit, he decided that there wasn’t much he could do about the smell but he at least could fix his hair. Running his fingers through, he had swept it back, giving it some semblance of what it normally looked like. 

[i]“Get close.”[/i] The words of Master Yen forced their way to the front of Sunao’s mind as he took a step forward. [i]“If you stand too far away, then the person won’t know you mean to shake their hand.”[/i] On any other day, the Padawan would’ve followed the unspoken etiquette of the Republic’s political circle robotically. But today was not his day. Stepping again, he fell 3 feet short of the man in front.

[i]“But not too close, it makes you look creepy.”[/i]

Falling back half a pace, Sunao meekly took Edburn’s hand. “We… er… crashed and uh…” The Padawan paused, surprised by the croak in his voice. Were these the first words he had spoken since the collision?

“Sorry,” he continued, clearing his throat, “I- my name is Sunao Zimtara, Padawan to Master Yennifer Reyes. We have crash landed on this planet and are in need of aid.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” Gaff replied, casting a sympathetic gaze upon Varman, Monty, and him. He offered his hand to the other two Jedi in turn before returning to his seat.

“Ask, dear friends, and it will be made available to you. Need you treatment for the wounded? Food and shelter? Passage offworld? We have fine accommodations here in our camp, and I would not regret a single credit spent on ensuring the comfort and security of you dear Jedi in such a savage land as this.”

“You are a most generous host,” Varman cut in with a soft voice, glancing to his companions as he spoke. He spoke haggardly, unsure of the best way to broach the situation and all too aware of his unkempt appearance. “But there was another matter too, sir. We come on the behalf of Onethi village to discuss the mining situation.”

“The mining situation, was it?” the viceroy said, his brows furrowed as he recalled past discussions regarding the topic. “Well. I am sorry for these natives’ concerns, but it is not my fault that they agreed before the eyes of the law to incorporate their society into the Galactic Republic. Whatever they may desire of their own planet, they are beholden to a higher purpose. As our Supreme Chancellor is so fond of saying: We are [i]all[/i] the Republic. We aid each other however we may, even when that aid may come at great cost; it is our great honor and our great burden. Surely Jedi understand the necessity of such sacrifice more than most.”

“Of course sacrifice is understood,” Delste said with a practiced tongue, though her brows furrowed and creased in a way that makes the effort of sincere politeness palpable. “And you [i]will[/i] excuse me for speaking out of turn, but should sacrifice come at the price of something so culturally important to the native people here? Was this operation aware of exactly the magnitude of disrespect being shown when they began mining? Have you spoken with them at length about this at all?” The more she spoke, the more the Padawan’s temper was brought into the light, despite her refined posture and appearance.

“Have [i]you?”[/i] Gaff interjected with a critical eye. “It seems terribly presumptuous of you, young Master, to make such assumptions about such things as disrespect when you yourself have been here for… How long? A day at the very best? The situation, I can assure you, is far more complex than we have time to elucidate today. You are both a newcomer and an outsider to this place; what gives you the right to speak on the behalf of these peoples’ needs and desires?

“Furthermore, we are in the business of saving lives here. Not a month ago did a huntsman die a long death from a wound that would have been healed in an instant on Coruscant. Boundless respect and care may be the lofty goals of a Jedi Knight, but endless pussyfooting shall neither preserve the life of a woman dying from birthing complications, nor heal the child made victim of a pirate’s stray blaster bolt, nor restore the crushed arm of a man caught in the sudden tremor of an earthquake. Bacta, on the other hand, will—once production goes into full swing, of course.

“Whatever their subsequent regrets may be, the introduction of Bunum into the Galactic Republic at large will be a net boon for these people as it has been for everyone else. They will find security, peace, and powers of medicine far beyond the primitive capabilities of a planet such as this. Please, I understand these sympathies of yours, but do not let them cloud your judgement; we will all come out of this situation having benefited from the beauty and knowledge of every corner of the galaxy, Bunum not least of all.”

Delste raised her chin and, with a haughty set of her jaw, stormed up to next to Sunao--going so far as to even take that half-step closer to the Republic official. In a single motion she straightened out her skirt and tunic, then tucked a single stray hair behind her ear, all to turn a pointed finger at the man. "Our ship is burning, sir; we dragged out our dead and injured with no help from the Republic and no help from anyone until the natives of Bunum found us in the jungle and took us in! My Master is sitting in their camp right now; tell me, will the Bacta you have here bring back the leg he lost in that crash? Or should I have to wait for you to finish mining out this whole camp?"

[i] There is no chaos, there is harmony,[/i] she could almost hear Master Nikdoris say to her in the ghost of a whisper; in a crashing wave of refusal, she flooded him out of her thoughts.

"These people are not nearly as primitive as you seem to enjoy painting them as; you'll find us least of all to be swayed by your pretty words and lofty vocabulary, all the while obscuring the fact that you're not telling us anything of importance! You're mining on a place of cultural and spiritual importance for these people; that should be enough to give you pause and to communicate with the elders there! Have you done even that? And I would beseech you not to dance around my question!" 

“Of course we have spoken with them,” Gaff coolly answered, turning to face the large window to the planet beyond. “We have communicated with the local tribes and sealed their approval with contracts legally-binding in the eyes of the Galactic Republic. We spoke, they answered, and now the deal is done. That contract is as easy to break as it is to renege upon your vows to the Jedi Order and live a life doing nothing in the face of others’ hardship.

“I am saying nothing of their customs; I say only that their technology is primitive which it patently is. Their rifles and cybernetics are thousands of years out of date, they have not even the outmoded advancement of juvan. I speak not out of contempt but out of concern. How many more of the Bunumi must die needlessly in our era of the greatest technological innovation the galaxy has ever seen?”

Sunao reeled in his jaw, taken aback by the vitriol of his companion. He had never seen Jedi with such an instant contempt for the Republic. Not that he fully approved of what the aide had said, nor his tone, but they had at least followed the correct steps. Perhaps there was something else at play or, much like himself, the crash had impacted the others more than just physically. The Padawan’s brows furrowed as his lips pursed. Since the tragedy he had only thought of himself and his master, he couldn’t even recall what the others' names were.

Suddenly, a tinge of bright crimson began to emanate from his human companion, followed by a waft of amber orange. The Padawan stifled a gasp as a wave of relief began to wash over him. “Anger?” He spoke softly, the words hidden under his breath.

“Or compassion?” His eyes shifted to the side as his hand reached for his chin. “Followed by bravado? Or confidence?”[ The colours dissipated as quickly as they had appeared. A cloud of doubt blanketed the young man’s mind.

[i]“Remember, the best-negotiated agreement lets both sides win.”[/i]

Words from his master sallied forth once more, prodding Sunao into action. “Of course, Mr. Gaff,” he replied, conviction skirting the edge of his voice, “No one should needlessly die in this day and age. My compatriots and I have just had a horrendous day as you might’ve guessed. Like you said, you and yours have followed the law to the letter and really any further inquiry should be taken up with those who signed said contracts.”

The Padawan paused, nodding to the Jedi before continuing. “In the meantime, we will take any medical supplies and rations you can spare. As soon as the injured are ready for transport, we will bring them to the facilities here.”

As the other Padawan spoke, Delste cooled her tongue and stepped back behind him once more. While Sunao smoothed things over with Gaff, she found herself with her arms crossed over her chest and a firm glare sent in the direction of the Republic official--whether or not he deserved it didn’t cross her mind. [i]Temperance, such a lack of temperance,[/i] she swore she could hear Nikdoris chide. Delste shook her head at the scene and turned away to let the others speak, glancing only briefly at Varman as she did so; [i]I’m not looking to be scolded by anyone else.[/i]

“Yes,” Varman added, daring now to speak only after the other Jedi had made their opinions plain. He had lingered in the silence of inaction, unsure of how to broach the fragility of diplomacy without shattering it beneath his martial nature. “We would be tremendously grateful for your aid and I can assure you that the Jedi Order shall not soon forget such an act of great kindness.”

Gaff spun about once more, casting an appraising look towards the gathered Jedi. “Of course we shall share with you what supplies we can, my friends. But the Republic will unfortunately be short-handed due to this sudden influx of injured people, and our supplies are also rather low from a recent cave-in that injured nearly forty miners—it will be taxing, of course, but such is, as I said, our great honor and our great burden as fellows of the Republic.

“But now that I think about it, if you help us end this operation sooner… perhaps we may be able to spare parts for your ship or a ship of our own for yourselves. The people of Bunum keep their record of their contract with the Republic in the Tower of Senlev. Retrieve this document for us and Bunumi fears will be quelled, our operation will run smoother, and all parties shall return to the safety of our homes all the sooner. With the assurance of our operation’s success, I would be more than willing to spare more medical attention for your wounded Jedi friends. Well? What say you?”

Varman opened his mouth to speak, but he was unsure of if it was to protest or to agree; he ultimately remained silent, waiting to see what the others might say before he himself would add anything else.

Sunao raised a brow at the request. Strange that they did not have a copy of such an important document but nevertheless it appeared, to the Padawan, to be a reasonable ask. “I’ll be happy to enquire about such things, when we return.” He replied, widening a friendly smile as best he could.

“Then farewell,” Gaff said with a pleased smile as he waved the Jedi out from his office door, “and may the Force be with you.”