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- Nov 27, 2005
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(NOTE: This takes place before the election for an Alliance representative on the Jedi Council.)
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This would not be a particularly enjoyable meeting.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bastele had only just gotten off of the Mandalorian ship a few days ago by the time he was sitting in his office again, staring wondrously out the window into the Coruscanti skyline. Speeders buzzed about, blaring horns and sirens, their lights reflecting against the window panes along with the rays of the setting sun. It was tranquil, a refreshing sight after the nothing of the planet that the Mandalorians kept him on. Not that such a planet didn't have its own charms; with no civilization other than the Mandalorian encampment, it was practically a paradise, with most of the world covered in water. Yet Bastele was from Corellia, born and raised in Coronet City, and now spent his days in Galactic City on Coruscant. His whole life was spent in a city. Anything else seemed alien, even the Mandalorian world.
And he knew he should still be there.
Such was why he was not looking forward to the meeting. Soon he would receive the call that a delegation from the New Jedi Order, led by the Grand Master himself, would arrive in his office. It was then that Bastele would raise serious objections to how the Jedi and Alliance diplomats dealt with his rescue. While he was grateful to be alive, he had to ask himself one question: at what cost?
"Sir," a voice called from the intercom. "The Jedi delegation has arrived. Should I send them in?"
No. Send them packing. Tell them to drop dead. Etc.
That's what part of him wanted to say, but what he knew he couldn't. "Send them in."