Jake loved a vaulted ceiling. He’d first seen one about ten years ago, after the Sectoral Parade on Lianna, in the temple where the closing service had been held. Huge self-supporting arches of masonry, painstakingly cut and carved by men and women across the ages. There were no such things on Desevro, at least, not that he had seen. His homeworld had lost such greatness, if it ever had it.
But Naboo had not. Standing there in the Great Ballroom, Jake could do little but look up, piercing blue eyes tracing the towering columns and elegant architraves, each fashioned by talented human hands. It was the kind of culture, the kind of achievement, that was desperately under threat and so desperately in need of saving.
“Captain, my pad”
Jake snapped to, reaching inside the folder under his arm and passing the Colonel his datapad.
“Wait here in case I need you Richter”.
“Yes sir, of course”. The greying fool grunted in thanks and shuffled off between the thronging guests. Jake watched him go, relaxing his shoulders as his superior faded into the distance.
Jake found it hard to serve the man. The words almost stuck in his throat. It was the likes of the elderly Colonel and his counterparts all across the galaxy that had let things slide as far as they had. Still, the pretense remained necessary for now.
The young Sith straightened his tie, smoothing his black dress uniform as he regained his focus. He had retained his rank in the Tionese military precisely for the opportunities it provided. Serving as the Colonel’s adjutant increased those opportunities and had now brought him to Naboo. With any luck, it would prove a fruitful visit. His particular brand of politics ran deep among the old families of the aristocratic world. Together, they could work to avert the fall.
A waiter sidled past with a tray and Jake took one on instinct. He’d never quite believed work and pleasure couldn’t mix.
@Sreeya
But Naboo had not. Standing there in the Great Ballroom, Jake could do little but look up, piercing blue eyes tracing the towering columns and elegant architraves, each fashioned by talented human hands. It was the kind of culture, the kind of achievement, that was desperately under threat and so desperately in need of saving.
“Captain, my pad”
Jake snapped to, reaching inside the folder under his arm and passing the Colonel his datapad.
“Wait here in case I need you Richter”.
“Yes sir, of course”. The greying fool grunted in thanks and shuffled off between the thronging guests. Jake watched him go, relaxing his shoulders as his superior faded into the distance.
Jake found it hard to serve the man. The words almost stuck in his throat. It was the likes of the elderly Colonel and his counterparts all across the galaxy that had let things slide as far as they had. Still, the pretense remained necessary for now.
The young Sith straightened his tie, smoothing his black dress uniform as he regained his focus. He had retained his rank in the Tionese military precisely for the opportunities it provided. Serving as the Colonel’s adjutant increased those opportunities and had now brought him to Naboo. With any luck, it would prove a fruitful visit. His particular brand of politics ran deep among the old families of the aristocratic world. Together, they could work to avert the fall.
A waiter sidled past with a tray and Jake took one on instinct. He’d never quite believed work and pleasure couldn’t mix.
@Sreeya
