Chapter 56 (Patreon)

“Inta'si'rin'na,” Senator Onaconda Farr said, bowing his head to the approaching planetary ruler.

“Senator Farr.” The Grand Protector returned the respectful greeting, directing it toward his world’s representative in the Galactic Senate.

“The small transport, the freighter, and the cruiser Rung are coming in to land,” the senior controller informed the gathered dignitaries, glancing at his datapad.

Really, the announcement had been unnecessary. The Rodians gathered at the spaceport could see perfectly well as three large objects entered the planet’s atmosphere, descending toward the landing pads.

“Is everything ready?” The Grand Protector’s voice was calm, but the way his interlocked fingers fidgeted against his stomach betrayed the planetary ruler’s impatience.

“Of course, Inta'si'rin'na,” Senator Farr replied. He, too, could hardly boast of perfect composure, for today’s visitors to Rodia were long-awaited and very welcome guests.

Welcome indeed. Granted, they were… not exactly the best thing that had happened to the senator personally, since their arrival was the result of a series of mistakes he had made in other matters. But to the Rodians’ homeworld, the arriving Jabiimi were practically saviors. Rodia had been eagerly awaiting the goods they had brought aboard six cargo ships.

Food. Vast quantities of grain and vegetables from Jabiim. Some meant for consumption, and some modified to thrive in an extremely humid climate and intended for planting.

Of course, six cargo ships full of food were hardly enough reason for the highest-ranking officials of the planet to be present at the spaceport. The reasons why the Inta'si'rin'na himself had come to greet the arriving ships were somewhat different. Supplies were wonderful, especially considering that Rodia had recently lost a major shipment of food to a pirate raid…

A loss that had happened because of him. Onaconda Farr.

Normally, the Rodians purchased food on a regular basis and in relatively small quantities. But with tensions rising across the galaxy, Farr had proposed that the Grand Protector fill Rodia’s storage facilities to capacity with provisions that could keep for a long time.

Unfortunately, that decision had required Rodia to abandon a long-term contract with an agricultural world it had worked with for the past two centuries.

And once again, the initiative had been Farr’s.

The plan was to purchase not ordinary produce, but grain modified by the Jedi, high-calorie tubers from several plant species, and vegetables. All of these modified foodstuffs could be stored for years with practically no special conditions required.

It was… expensive, but both the senator and the Grand Protector believed such measures were necessary.

In the past, when the Great Hyperspace War had raged across the galaxy, many worlds had suffered not only from the fighting itself, but also because ordinary transport routes had been cut off. Battles between opposing fleets, pirates crawling out of every hole, minefields suddenly appearing along routes that had only recently been considered safe—all of these dangers claimed lives directly, but they also drove businesses into bankruptcy when raw materials stopped arriving, and caused famine on worlds that could not produce enough food to meet their own needs.

Rodia wanted to minimize the risks, because many doubted that the Jedi and the Senate would be able to resolve the crisis… without any serious upheaval. Farr sincerely hoped everything would end without bloodshed, but he believed they needed to prepare for the worst.

He had been the one to propose the plan for filling the planet’s granaries, and he had been the one negotiating with a fairly distant agricultural world. A prosperous one, thanks to a stroke of good fortune in its past: a couple of centuries earlier, the Jedi Temple had selected the planet to become the breadbasket of the surrounding star systems. The Agricultural Corps had sent specialists there, and the Jedi had modified a number of local crops, bringing them close to ideal. Nutritional value, shelf life, vitamin and mineral content—everything was top-notch.

The only drawback was that those crops had been adapted specifically to that world’s biosphere, and planting them anywhere else produced far poorer yields.

The profitable food trade had allowed the agricultural world to become an exceptionally prosperous place. Demand for its produce was high as well, however, so Rodia had been forced to pay a considerable premium to secure a large shipment without waiting its turn.

That was why Farr had suggested temporarily suspending the contract with their previous supplier.

Unfortunately, that had been a mistake.

The senator had arranged protection for the large convoy, but because of an unfortunate mishap, barely a quarter of the required Justiciar Fleet escort ships arrived.

That proved disastrous for the freighters carrying the provisions Rodia had purchased. The pirate raid cost the senator’s homeworld not only the food shipment, but every Rodian cargo vessel involved in transporting it.

Citizens killed or carried off into slavery, food prices skyrocketing overnight, and a panic-stoking media that had somehow learned of the government plan’s catastrophic failure almost at the same time as the Grand Protector.

It was just… Onaconda Farr had practically torn his own ears and crest off over the whole disaster.*

To make matters worse, when Rodia went back to its former supplier, they simply shrugged and informed them that all food available for export had already been sold to other buyers. And because Rodia had suspended the contract, the supplier had already signed agreements with other customers for the next two years.

Rodia was not the only world that could smell trouble coming, and the surrounding systems were preparing for a possible crisis as well.

It was yet another failure.

And once again, it was Farr’s fault.

There was no famine yet, of course, but the outlook was bleak. Once private traders learned about Rodia’s troubles—the loss of a large portion of the planet’s merchant fleet and the beginnings of a shortage—they raised their prices to levels that were just shy of absurd.

And then there was the Senate…

Farr let out a heavy sigh as he remembered his speech asking for aid for his homeworld. As usual, it had dissolved into endless debate. In the end, Rodia’s plea for help had been strongly supported by only five senators, among them the senator from Naboo and Bail Organa of Alderaan.

Once again, unfortunately, Onaconda Farr had serious doubts that the Senate would actually do anything in the next few months. Partly because the Republic’s governing body was notoriously slow to act, and partly because there were simply too many problems now. Rodia’s voice was only one among a great chorus of worlds calling for the attention of the Republic Senate.

“Ghests?” the Grand Protector called questioningly toward one of the Rodians—an elderly, though still vigorous, head of one of Rodia’s most powerful clans, and one personally loyal to the Protector.

“Captured, Inta'si'rin'na,” Naap Bomu repeated what he had already reported. His hunters ranked among the five best on the planet. And not just on Rodia. The Bomu clan’s mercenaries were well known across the galaxy and were often hired by the Hutts themselves for a respectable fee. “We have plenty of experience keeping them for sale to Hutt traders, so there won’t be any problems. I stake my clan’s name on it: they’ll be delivered for loading the moment you give the order.”

“Excellent.” Satisfaction was clearly audible in the voice of Rodia’s ruler, who also served as commander-in-chief of the combined armed forces of the planet’s clans.

The creatures included in the deal with Jabiim were known on the senator’s homeworld as some of the most dangerous predators—and among the most hated by the locals. In ancient times, adult ghests reaching six meters in length had been a true terror to the Rodians, sometimes wiping out the populations of entire settlements.

Even now, encountering one of the beasts was a serious test of skill and equipment for even a well-armed, experienced hunter. Thank the Force their numbers had fallen sharply as more of the planet was settled and the creatures were hunted deliberately.

No one intended to exterminate Rodia’s native fauna completely, of course. But thanks to the reduced numbers of these dangerous predators, life on the planet was becoming safer with every passing year.

And yes, trading dangerous flora and fauna—including ghests—offworld was one of the sources of income for the clans whose hunting teams captured the monsters living on Rodia. The clans, in turn, paid taxes into the planetary budget.

For the most part, such creatures were purchased by the Hutts and other enthusiasts of spectacles like gladiatorial combat, though not always. Many prosperous worlds, as well as wealthy individuals, could afford to maintain zoos, menageries, and botanical gardens displaying flora and fauna from different planets.

And now the monsters were part of the payment for a visit to Rodia by Siith’khara’Dziha’s daughter.

Karray’darla’Dziha, a young human and the heir of a sorcerer whose name was currently on the lips of many sentients, had agreed to come to Rodia both as a guest and to help adapt plants and several animal species from Jabiim to the local climate. One of the reasons the young heiress had accepted the job was the promise of four adult ghests of both sexes.

She would also be accompanied by ten ritual mages from the JMG, like the ones Ryloth had hired—mages Onaconda Farr had heard Senator Orn Free Taa praise to the skies.

According to the corpulent Twi’lek, a team of five mages from the rainy world could turn newly sealed-off caverns of considerable size into mushroom farms with phenomenal speed. Their rituals required only that the storage crystals be replaced once a year, and those crystals could be recharged directly on Ryloth’s sunlit side. The spells created ideal conditions for growing the planet’s staple food crop, saving considerable expense on purchasing, installing, and maintaining technological systems designed to create the same kind of controlled ecosystem.

It was the news from Ryloth—news Farr had shared with his fellow Rodians in a report some time earlier—that prompted the Minister of Agriculture and Hunting to try contacting Sorcerer Siith directly, bypassing the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

At first, he got nowhere. The head of the Academy of Magic and leader of the JMG refused to speak with Rodia’s representative, citing how busy he was. But thanks to… a substantial bribe paid to one Romri Tano—the same woman from whom the elderly Rodian had once managed to buy a batch of protective amulets for his clan’s hunters at an outrageously inflated price—the minister eventually secured a conversation with the sorcerer’s daughter.

Perhaps it was worth dwelling for a moment on the man who headed the Ministry of Agriculture and Hunting—as well as on the ministry itself and, more broadly, the Rodian way of thinking.

Because the overwhelming majority of Rodia’s landmass consisted of swamps and jungle, agriculture on the planet existed mostly in name only. Its few fields and rather expensive enclosed farms could feed little more than a modest-sized city.

Livestock farming was somewhat better, but with predators so abundant—even if most were nowhere near as voracious or dangerous as ghests—raising and grazing animals on Rodia was difficult and costly. In the end, livestock provided only a limited amount of meat, nowhere near enough to meet the needs of the entire planet.

That left hunting… but it went without saying that an industry like that could hardly feed a whole world.

And so the Ministry of Agriculture and Hunting contributed very little to actually feeding Rodia.

The minister himself was a former hunter who had left an arm and a leg in the swamps of his homeworld, replacing both with cybernetic prosthetics. Blunt to the point of rudeness, sharp-tongued, and hardly pleasant company, he held his post largely because of the influence of the clan he headed and the Grand Protector’s personal regard for him. The ruler was a warrior to his very core and valued honesty, courage, and directness in those around him.

The old minister, Ot Maru, was also a father of many children and the proud grandfather of no fewer than thirteen grandchildren. He had raised his own children with almost dictatorial strictness, but with his grandchildren he was remarkably soft.

Among Rodians who still lived on their homeworld, society remained largely clan-based, and whoever bore the title of heir often wielded real authority. Less than the head of the clan, certainly, but still enough to matter.

An heir’s words carried weight even with their own parent, if only because a wise clan leader would never simply dismiss what their successor had to say. Even if the youngster was talking nonsense, it was the duty of a good father and mentor to listen, understand where such foolish ideas had come from, and properly explain the mistake to the young claimant who would one day take his place.

That was probably what made the minister’s conversation such a remarkable success.

Before him stood the hologram of a human child, a girl about the same age as one of his granddaughters. And at the same time, she was an heir—darla translated as exactly that—to the head of an organization whose acquaintance many people were now eager to make.

And not just the heads of major corporations, either, but the leaders of entire worlds.

So Ot Maru was not merely polite and respectful when speaking with the sorcerer’s daughter; he also slipped into the same warmth he usually reserved for his beloved grandchildren.

Senator Farr, who had returned home after being summoned by the Grand Protector, later watched a recording of the conversation. It was… strange.

The opening pleasantries, after which the minister had intended to move on to his request for a conversation with Karray’darla’Dziha’s father, quickly wandered far off course. First, the girl peppered the old hunter with questions about Rodia’s wildlife. Then Ot Maru himself got carried away, launching into stories about his exploits across his homeworld.

All in all, about an hour into the old hunter’s stories, young Karray was already insistently inviting herself over to visit “cool Grandpa Ot” so they could “go wandering through the swamps and jungles,” while he tried to talk her out of it.

He was joined in that effort by a human woman whom the Dziha heiress called “Aunt Cordelia.” As it later turned out, the woman was hardly just anyone: first, she was the head of Jabiim Security, and second, Alto Stratus—the ruler of the rainy world—was her cousin.

Five minutes into the argument, the girl’s father suddenly appeared…

And, with astonishing casualness, sided with his daughter.

“Why not? Let her get out for a bit, relax, chase some wildlife around.”

Honestly, Senator Farr himself had been left speechless, even though he already knew how that conversation had ended.

After that, the argument shifted to an extremely displeased Cordelia and a remarkably calm Siith’khara’Dziha—who, if he was worried about anyone at all, seemed to be worried about Rodia’s predators.

“Let her take the Rung, Romri, ten Mandos with Arvik, the Gungan mercenaries under Koit… and Hit-Girl with her gang. We’ll count the trip as field training for them. Mandatory. Unpaid. They’re students—let them work! Karray’s just bored sitting at home when there’s a whole galaxy full of wildlife she hasn’t tormented yet. Rodia does take tourists, right?” the sorcerer asked at the end, turning to Ot Maru.

The elderly minister did not let the opportunity slip away. He assured them that visitors were always welcome on Rodia, but also mentioned that the wild regions of his homeworld were extremely dangerous. Then, true to form, he bluntly laid out the matter that had prompted him to contact the Dziha heiress in the first place.

Siith was clearly not pleased by the change of subject, but the conversation nevertheless moved in the direction the minister wanted. His daughter joined in almost immediately as well, bubbling over with enthusiasm and ideas. Some of them sounded rather… surreal.

What was interesting was that the head of the JMG did not brush the girl off. With an almost distinctly Rodian seriousness, he listened to his daughter, either agreeing with her or explaining in detail why he thought some of her ideas were wrong.

In short, the minister ended up speaking with both Dzihas and the head of Jabiim Security for more than two hours.

Interestingly enough, Siith’khara’Dziha was also curious about the possibility of visiting Rodia himself, but Cordelia Stratus pointed out with obvious schadenfreude that he had only just returned from vacation and that the chief sorcerer of Jabiim had accumulated quite a backlog of work.

So after a while, the conversation focused solely on Karray’darla’Dziha’s visit to the Rodian homeworld as both a tourist and a guest of Minister Ot Maru, alongside the agricultural and livestock-related matters they intended to address.

At one point, the girl stepped away to run to her workshop for some data on Jabiim’s breed of swamp banthas. While she was gone, the elderly Minister Maru allowed himself a few remarks about the current situation on Rodia—and about the Republic, the Judicial Forces, and the Senate.

His language was so crude that, had Senator Farr said anything like this in public, his political career would have ended the moment the words left his mouth.

The sorcerer merely shrugged at the old man’s profanity, while Cordelia Stratus even gave an approving grunt, after which she suggested arranging a conversation between her cousin and the Inta'si'rin'na—“if the Grand Protector has no objection to speaking with the leader of a world that no longer expects any help from the Republic.”

The Grand Protector had no objections. Naturally, before making his decision, Rodia’s ruler had looked into Alto Stratus. What he heard and read, he liked. Stratus was no empty-talking politician, but a warrior loved by his soldiers and practically worshipped by Jabiim’s civilians. A former commander of the elite Nimbus special forces corps, he had taken power after one of the planet-wide epidemics that regularly struck his world. He had little affection for the Republic, though he respected the current Supreme Chancellor, who, unlike so many of his predecessors, had helped Jabiim during the latest epidemic by sending bacta and humanitarian aid. Stratus hated pirates and Trandoshans and their culture, supported the new order of gifted who called themselves mages, strengthened his homeworld’s economy, and steadily expanded its defensive capabilities.

And the man was getting results. Jabiim, once plagued by constant pirate and slaver raids, now repelled ten attacks out of ten—and such attacks were becoming rarer and rarer—while claiming pirate ships as prizes and the criminals themselves…

The rainy world was rich in valuable resources, and the Grand Protector saw nothing objectionable in making would-be raiders help their intended victims prosper instead, even if their contribution was not exactly voluntary.

In short, everything the Rodian leader had learned about Alto Stratus painted the same picture: a man who was, above all, the Protector of his world. Whether standing on a battlefield with a sword in hand or sitting in a government office, he worked for the prosperity of his homeworld and the safety of its people. And that was something the man whose own title, Inta'si'rin'na, translated into Basic as “Grand Protector,” could readily understand.

The Inta'si'rin'na was a warrior from a warrior clan of the warlike Rodian race. Some, Senator Farr among them, had turned away from the bloody legacy of their ancestors. Talented actors, musicians, merchants, politicians—among Onaconda’s people were many sentients who had never once used a weapon in their lives.

But that did not apply to the Grand Protector.

Never had the ruler of the planet been a pacifist, and the senator… despite his own beliefs and his friendship with the Naboo royal family, considered the traditions of his people to be right.

The leader of their world genuinely loved Rodia. He always placed the well-being of the planet and its people first, and he despised those of his own kind who had betrayed their homeworld.

Even within his inner circle, he rejected any notion of kinship between Rodians who had abandoned the planet for good and those who remained—those who might travel the galaxy from time to time, but always came back.

In his youth, the Grand Protector had proved his valor in the gladiatorial arena. Afterward, he spent many years working as a bounty hunter, giving preference to contracts on former Rodians who had disgraced their homeworld.

“Cleaning up the galaxy,” as the stern warrior who would later become the planet’s ruler used to put it.

And he was absolutely delighted with Stratus when he learned how much effort, time, and money the man devoted to bringing abducted Jabiimi home. The people of Rodia might despise those of their kind who abandoned their homeworld for good, but they understood the difference between leaving of one’s own free will and being taken by force. So in the eyes of the Inta'si'rin'na—and of most of Rodia’s leadership—Alto Stratus’s efforts amounted to a genuine act of devotion to his people.

So yes—the conversation took place, and it proved extremely productive.

Today’s events were, in part, the result of those private negotiations between the two leaders over a secure hyperspace communications channel. Most of the cargo ships were still waiting in orbit, their holds packed with food sold on favorable terms and with payment spread out over time.

Because of its harsh weather and the difficulties ships faced when trying to land, Jabiim had long been accustomed to feeding its population largely on its own, and it maintained reserves as well.

Rodia had not been sold an enormous amount of food, but the volume was comparable to what the planet normally purchased. And as far as Onaconda Farr knew, Jabiim was willing to sell his world more in the future, temporarily increasing food production to meet the demand.

So both the arriving shipment and the prospect of future—possibly long-term—cooperation were expected to have a positive effect on food prices: lowering them on the local market for ordinary citizens and forcing down the prices charged by private traders who had decided to profit from the current crisis.

Along with the cargo ships came the ritualists and Sorcerer Siith’s daughter, who were supposed to help Rodia develop both crops that could produce good yields on the planet and the biomes those plants would need.

And then there was the livestock. Two herds: swamp banthas from Jabiim and already modified Naboo shaaks. The agreement also included the delivery of several specimens of a unique breed of herding bantha—the R.K.B.S.B.U.-1.

Jabiim’s second chimerologist, Karray’darla’Dziha, had promised “cool Grandpa Ot” that she would “prepare” all the animals for life on their new world once she arrived.

And in Senator Farr’s opinion, the girl’s visit might prove even more important than resolving the immediate threat of a food crisis.

It could bring Rodia one step closer to what Minister Ot Maru still regarded as little more than a dream: true food self-sufficiency.

The recently emerged mages had already made a name for themselves among those paying attention. Their innovative approach covered an astonishing range of fields—from personal protection and starship modernization to entire production chains built on completely new principles the galaxy had never seen before. On top of that, the JMG appeared to be on good terms with the Jedi Temple, so associating with them was unlikely to cause trouble. At least not from the Republic’s own keepers of the peace. And some time earlier, the Supreme Chancellor himself had been seen at the opera in Siith’khara’Dziha’s company, which had sparked a few quiet whispers in the corridors of the Senate.

In short, Rodia stood to gain a great deal if it could establish something close to friendly relations not only with Jabiim, but with the Mages’ Guild as well. If nothing else, it might make it possible to obtain things vital to the planet with far less effort.

Yes, of course, the Republic was always loudly proclaiming mutual aid, equal rights, protection, and cooperation… But the senator knew perfectly well that reality did not quite match the declarations. Somehow, the systems of the Inner Rim always seemed to have rights that were a little more “equal,” received that protection more often, and benefited rather more from all that cooperation.

Which meant that worlds like Rodia had to grab every opportunity with all available limbs.

“The transport for the Jabiimi troops has arrived,” the aide quietly informed the commander-in-chief.

“Right on time,” Rodia’s leader said with a satisfied nod.

Senator Farr let out a silent sigh. The Nimbus company aboard one of the ships now coming in to land was the second reason the Grand Protector was present at the spaceport.

He and Alto Stratus had agreed on an exchange of experience between their worlds’ special forces. Nimbus and the Blades of Rodia were due to meet soon in a series of war games. Naturally, neither leader had any desire to lose highly trained elite troops, so they had agreed on a series of bloodless friendly matches with varying victory and defeat conditions. And, while they were at it, the Inta'si'rin'na was eager to get a look at the unique repulsor boots used by Jabiim’s elite soldiers, along with their sets of magical support and protective equipment.

His personal presence, meanwhile, was officially explained by Rodian tradition. During peaceful visits, armed sentients were required to obtain permission to pass from whoever protected the land. At the level of relations between clans, that meant the clan heads. When representatives of another world were involved, it meant the Grand Protector.

That was how, long ago, the Jedi had been granted permission to operate on Rodian soil. After meeting them in person, the Inta'si'rin'na who ruled the planet at the time formally allowed the keepers of the peace to travel through Rodia’s jungles and swamps, and forbade the clans from hunting them anywhere on their homeworld.

Unofficially, though, the Grand Protector was simply curious. And for the most part, so were the other Rodians holding high-ranking positions and accompanying their leader. They wanted to see both Sorcerer Siith’s daughter and the beginning of the unloading of Rodia’s food supplies. And yes—they were just as eager to get a look at the warriors of another world. Rodians were hardly the most peaceful species; quite the opposite. Most of Senator Farr’s people were fairly aggressive individuals who had no particular aversion to a good fight.

Did the senator consider it barbaric? Definitely. But after seeing enough of the galaxy beyond Rodia… he had come to regard his people’s traditions as a necessary evil.

Sometimes… on Onaconda’s homeworld, a single blaster bolt taking one life could save hundreds who might otherwise die in a clan feud. And every so often, the senator found himself thinking that the Republic might do well to adopt a few Rodian traditions of its own. The Judicial official responsible for the mishap with the escort assigned to Rodia’s merchant ships, for example—Senator Farr would have gladly invited him into the arena, and for an occasion like that, he would have been quite willing to set aside his personal humanism for a while.

“And here are our guests,” the Grand Protector said with satisfaction as the ramp of the sorcerer’s personal cruiser lowered and a group of sentients appeared in the airlock doorway.

The procession was led by a human man in a military uniform, no longer young by the look of him, but still solidly built. Like the others, he moved with a light, slightly awkward gait, since Rodia’s gravity was somewhat lower than Jabiim’s. He was almost certainly the official representative. Which meant Stratus and his Ministry of Foreign Affairs were well aware that strength was respected on Rodia, and that the first among the Rodians was a warrior to the core—as were most of those around him. Two more official-looking Jabiimi accompanied the officer, both wearing less imposing uniforms and most likely serving as his aides.

Behind the soldiers from the rainy world came several more figures: a human girl with black eyes and red pupils—features unusual for her species—dressed in a long black-and-red robe with intricate embroidery on the left side of the chest. Karray’darla’Dziha. And the pattern, as far as the senator understood, marked her as belonging to the Dziha clan. Or perhaps the family line. Unfortunately, only now did Onaconda realize he had never looked into that particular detail.

The girl, who was looking around with obvious curiosity, was accompanied by two individuals who appeared to be bodyguards. One was a Mando in full armor, making it impossible to tell either their species or sex, while the other was a Gungan. Both were armed exclusively with melee weapons, just as Rodian tradition required for a first meeting with the Inta'si'rin'na.

As for the Mandalorian, the senator found it difficult to say much. He simply had little personal experience with representatives of that peculiar people, though Mandalorians were viewed quite favorably on Rodia—as worthy competitors in the mercenary trade.

But the Gungan…

Onaconda was acquainted with Representative Binks, and the difference here was impossible to miss. The Naboo who so often appeared in the Senate was, for the most part… exhausting and irritating. But the one now accompanying the young sorceress gave an entirely different impression. The senator might not have been a militarist, but he had still received the upbringing expected of a native-born Rodian, and he could clearly recognize the gait of a trained warrior beneath those broad, seemingly casual strides. The Gungan handled his spear with practiced ease, while his stalked eyes swept over the welcoming party without hostility, but with serious, careful attention. There was no sense that this long-eared humanoid visiting Rodia was about to trip over something, break something, cause chaos, or make a fool of himself. What Farr did recognize was a bodyguard at work.

“Welcome to Rodia,” the Grand Protector said, stepping forward toward the military officer who had come to a halt before him.

“Boring…” Karray repeated yet again, only half-listening to the endless talking between one of Uncle Alto’s officers and the Rodian. Inta’shit…somewhere-or-other. Though the girl had been told to call him the Grand Protector if the daughter of the head of the JMG and the top man on Rodia actually ended up speaking to each other.

“Bear with it, though,” Koit said imperturbably for the… third time, she thought.

“How long can they keep yapping?!”

“As long as it takes, that’s how long,” the Gungan said, scratching one ear with his free hand. “Arvik there is waiting and not complaining. And being without his guns is hard on him, though.”

“I’ve got my beskar’gam on, so I’m fine,” the Mando disagreed.

“But a pair of blasters…”

“Is a pair of blasters,” Arvik finished for Koit with a nod.

“And anyway, Karray-sa, think about how bit-bit miserable your father must be back on Jabiim right now. You’ll feel better straight away, though.”

“True enough,” the girl sighed. “Daddy’s probably going crazy over there…”

“This is unfair!!!” I exclaimed indignantly, leaning back in my chair.

There was a mountain of work to do. And none of the kind I actually liked, involving my own research, but… PAPERWORK!!!

And Dozdrogodul take it, actual paper wasn’t even used here, with practically all documentation handled electronically…

“Report, report, report… Requisition, another requisition! Briefing… Denunciation! Memo, application…” I muttered as I scrolled through the messages on my datapad. “When did I manage to fall into a demonic plane?!”

“Master Dziha,” Emthree said, drawing my attention. “A reminder: your class in Lecture Hall Three begins in ten minutes.”

“What do you mean? Isn’t that… what’s his name? That red-haired guy? He teaches the basics of artifact-making.”

“He has gone on leave. The notification should have reached you yesterday.”

“Him too?!” I shouted, suddenly seized by a powerful urge to imitate Xo and zap someone with lightning.

“Master Dziha, what exactly are you planning to do with that blaster?” the military-modified protocol droid asked, a note of apprehension in his voice.

“Wave it around!” I explained decisively, wondering when exactly I’d managed to pull the weapon out of my desk drawer.

It’s all stress!!! While normal people are relaxing, pursuing their own research, visiting brothels, sleeping—I’m busting my ass like a mountain goat! And the guys from the game are probably raiding the new boss from the latest update right now… How are they managing without the best tank-paladin of the god of light… Mneh… What was that schmuck called in the lore again? Ah, doesn’t matter…

“Heh… Karray, Daddy’s jealous…”

Who could’ve known that letting my daughter fly off to Rodia to unwind would trigger a whole wave of vacations, huh? Suti and Karrina, together with Shmi, Romri, and Alto—and by the way, is Alto even entitled to a vacation?—all took off for Shili, leaving literally EVERYTHING on me.

How much had the girls been carrying on their shoulders all this time?! I swear by Hecate’s pantalo—mm… by my beard, I’m going to find them more hands to help. Because I’ve been running on potions for three days straight now, and I can’t even look toward my personal laboratory—I simply don’t have the time.

A third of the teaching staff had also suddenly decided to run off on vacation, so those of us who remained—including me—were carrying a much heavier workload. I’d have to cut the number of teachers allowed to go on leave at the same time down to a fifth. I hadn’t quite thought that one through…

“Vacations are evil!” I declared firmly, pushing myself up from behind the desk.

“When they’re someone else’s,” I added after a moment’s thought, already halfway to the door leading into the corridor.

Author’s Note:

*Rodians don’t have hair on their heads, so when bad news hits, there’s no hair on the old melon to tear out—they go for their ears and the crest of flexible bristles instead. A Rodian: