Empress Teta, 0331
Originally called 'Koros', one the oldest sovereign world in the known galaxy and economic rival to Coruscant itself, Empress Teta was so named for the warrior queen who'd conquered it in ages past. The world-spanning city of Cinnabar covered the entire surface, much like Coruscant. Its Core District housed nobles and the unbelievably affluent in luxury that, since Coruscant's fall to abominations, was entirely unrivaled. And, also like Coruscant, everyone else lived as part of working class- or worse.
Despite a politically active monarchy, it was Mining Guild who held the real power. Cinnabar was their greatest source of income and the guild had been an integrated part of local politics and economy since the Reconstruction millennia ago. No longer tempered by Republic's already far-too-tame restrictions, life for anyone not born into wealth and power had only gotten worse in the last decade.
Naturally, the Cinnabar police forces were dispatched to quickly and violently suppress any dissent regarding damn near anything. Countless civilians suffered from unchecked working hours, lack of health care, expensive cost of living and basic needs, and mandatory labor as punishment. Countless more simply died on the streets in abject poverty. No one in power cared so long as the credits kept coming, even as protests popped up daily across the city.
But apparently, the Jedi cared. And they were bringing in some help.
Nakoa had arrived first and got to work gathering information from the media and legging it around the city. The job ahead was going to be long and difficult without a doubt. But that'd never stopped Apex before.
The Wrean sipped bitter, black diner coffee, perched in the corner of a run-down greasy spoon diner at half past three in the morning. Run-ragged workpeople bent over their tables and ate in silence. Some were leaving work and others were eating breakfast. Nakoa's clothing blended in with the multi-species crowds. They didn't get a second look. Or a first one, in many cases. No one here cared. For them, there was only the grind of another long day's work and the grumblings of beat-down anger.
Nakoa waited for the Order's contact with some local newspaper brand in hand. They were due any minute.
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