Diva, from Aeons Torn
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If blood is the currency of life, then what's its tax collection service?
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Breehara
Jul 10, 2014 8:32:10 GMT -8
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Jul 10, 2014 8:32:10 GMT -8
There was a momentary blank space upon that pale face at the utterance of such a high profile name -except it appeared to draw no indication of recognition from this one. Maybe she was asleep during that phase of galactic interdevelopment. Who knew? Answering while examining the inside of the helmet, Diva pauses mid sentence to touch one of jagged edges of the rupture with an index finger.
"Life prying, o'course. This spot has scribbled signs all over it. So I'm playing Clue, sussing out what went wrong here, why it repeated. Also, when it comes to end it really helps to have as much on a lifey as possible. Don't need 'em arguing sense."
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Post by Deleted on Jul 10, 2014 8:53:03 GMT -8
That drew a blank stare from Goran. Mind, with no face to speak of, one would be hard pressed to tell, but he had a feeling that this one would.
The general gist of what it had said was clear enough; it was trying to piece together the series of events that had led to the destruction of the building. The Shard couldn't shake the feeling that there was context he had missed, however. What made this building special?
"Er, right. Well, I've got nothing better to do if you need a hand."
A quick sensor ping revealed a severed arm lying under a pile of rubble. At a guess, Goran figured it had started outside and had been blown inwards by some sort of concussive pressure wave and buried by subsequent blasts. He freed it with a quick tug of the Force.
"See? Got one right here."
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Post by Deleted on Jul 10, 2014 21:12:47 GMT -8
As I touched down, I was careful when choosing which name to refer to myself by. I had a feeling deep in my bones that Dressel might well become the focal point for a new era of turmoil... and the council may do with me as they see fit... I did not see these paths diverging as any i needed to be walking on. So, falling to my heritage, I spoke with a heavy umbran accent (which although different culturally, the accent was not that different from instramtan) when giving my request for landing. My clothes were changed to a Stylish black suit (vastly different than my usual attire, or even what i wore when i was in charge of Peddlers crystals) and force Stealth was kept around me in similarity to Drawing my Watchcoat to stave off the cold... (except for the purpose of hiding my identity within the force to anyone curious). I was informed someone would meet with me shortly to help me find my way to the correct building for what i was here for
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Post by Deleted on Jul 11, 2014 0:46:10 GMT -8
In the Dresselian Diplomatic Corps, there is no single species more heavily represented than the Shard. Though Dressel was accustomed to self-rule after a brief but relatively short period of marital law following its inform liberation, Eralam's influence had guided the planet for decades. The Market was perhaps the most visible result, but it also supported one of the highest Shard populations in the galaxy. And since Shards were generally more capable than their organic counterparts, they quickly found a home in the bureaucracy that any government relied upon to survive. They were supremely effective administrators, and while they fared poorly in elections, that was fine with them. Organics were better at rabble rousing anyway, and it kept them from having the chance to mess things up in any meaningful sort of way. Since one Shard, with the proper chassis, could outperform multiple organics, they kept costs low, which kept taxes low, which kept the people happy, which the elected officials were all too eager to take credit for. Careful cooperation and firm leadership along the crystalline lifeforms kept the fact that the planet was effectively run by immigrant Shards something of an open secret. It wasn't that people didn't know, or at least suspect, the truth. They simply didn't care because, dammit, it worked.
Over the years, the community has solidified into what was now known as the Shard Network, and if the various administrations and ministries were its hands and feet, the Diplomatic Corps was its eyes. Traditionally, offworld diplomats were native Dresselians, but their staff almost always contained at least one Shard secretary. The secretary would always scrupulously follow local, Dresselian, and intergalactic regulations concerning the collection of data, but they still collected vast amounts of it. Since this sort of light espionage is more or less a standard form of statecraft the galaxy over, it rarely raised any red flags, and when it did, a simple inquiry into the activities of the host planet's embassy on Dressel usually got them lowered instantly. Meanwhile, the Shards native to these planets were incorporated into the Shard Network. Most planets lacked the top-down system used on Dressel, instead relying on a bottom up approach that saw a thorough infiltration of the service industries, normally dominated by droids. They, in turn, also collected massive amounts of data. Only in the most irregular of cases was it obtained by illegal means. The Network dealt almost entirely in open source information, relying on its massive collective processing power to sort out and analyze it. The conclusions they drew painted one of the most complete and comprehensive pictures of the galaxy known.
All of this was reliant upon the Shard secretaries, and they all got their start working domestically. Most were Iron Knights, which offered a tremendous advantage in the rare instances where combat became necessary. Before they're allowed to work offworld, however, they must first prove themselves domestically. This often involves meeting with foreign dignitaries.
Today's meeting would be handled by Ilum. As his name suggested, he was an Iron Knight, though his HRD chassis rendered him indistinguishable from a traditional human without the proper equipment, or the Force. Standing at 5'11", with an average build, light brown hair, a smattering of freckles across a dainty nose and grey-green eyes, the Shard stood out just enough in a crowd that he didn't appear painfully inconspicuous.
Though he wore a business suit rather than robes, the slender, elegantly built lightsaber hilt on his belt marked him as a Force user to even a casual observer. Given that his assignment was a Jedi Master, he thought that might be appreciated.
"Greetings and salutations. My name is Ilum. It's a pleasure to have you here."
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Post by Deleted on Jul 11, 2014 14:51:33 GMT -8
I nodded to the Man named "Ilum"... they sent an Iron Knight to greet me. From my time as a tenant in the Marketplace, i knew that Much of the planet was run by shards, so i did not expect anything different.
"Greetings Ilum... I am Diamonte Tuhlute... but you know that. I need to speak with the Minister of your Planetary Security Agency... I need access to surveillance of a specific individual."
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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If blood is the currency of life, then what's its tax collection service?
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Breehara
Jul 13, 2014 5:15:39 GMT -8
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Jul 13, 2014 5:15:39 GMT -8
As a slight shimmer of Force reserves was used, one might notice it as tendril like rays which synergied with both the alignment of the user and the inclination of the power itself. In this case we were talking neutrality, since most robots (in this one's experience) tended to show a observant approach towards connected actions. There wasn't a drain or siphon due to the sudden tug, but it would be inaccurate to ignore that the spare tendrils and spillover gravitated gently towards the oh so lovable nexus sitting upon rubble piles of infrastructure. She sniffed in the general direction of the arm and her expression soured. Next, her tongue poked out and flopped.
"Uggggghhh! That bastard's been down and out for a stint. You can smell 'em from here. Sheesh! How many.did they kill here? See, this is the problem with the living: they go on these rampages and don't even bother to finish their plates. For shame. Leave that around and maggots will fester."
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Post by Deleted on Jul 14, 2014 11:13:15 GMT -8
Goran noticed his powers getting a taste test; that was, after all, why he let them out for a bit. He knew, the Network knew, of this one's involvement with Eralam, and he was willing to bet that the experience hadn't been a wholly pleasant one. It seemed the only people that ever got along with the sanctimonious prick were others with their heads so high in the clouds that they didn't notice they still had gutter mud sticking to their boots. By letting it taste a bit of his power, and in doing so get a feel for his mind, Goran was hoping it would realize he was cut from a different cloth. Or chipped from a different rock. Mix your metaphors as you please.
"On the off chance that wasn't rhetorical, I counted at least thirty. Might be more, but probably not less."
He poked the arm with a probe.
"Ugh, indeed. They smell bad enough when they're alive. And why do they have to be so damned squishy?"
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Post by Deleted on Jul 14, 2014 11:33:01 GMT -8
I nodded to the Man named "Ilum"... they sent an Iron Knight to greet me. From my time as a tenant in the Marketplace, i knew that Much of the planet was run by shards, so i did not expect anything different." Greetings Ilum... I am Diamonte Tuhlute... but you know that. I need to speak with the Minister of your Planetary Security Agency... I need access to surveillance of a specific individual." Ilum nodded pleasantly."Yes, we suspected you might be here for that. If you'll follow me, we'll get you taken care of right away." The walk to the Ministry of Internal Security wasn't long. Getting through the building's security took longer, though it was minimally invasive compared to what one might find in other parts of the galaxy. They relied heavily on scans and the intuition of the officers, all possessing at least mild Force sensitivity and training in detecting hostile intent. Along the hallways and corridors they walked, until they came to a conference room tucked away near the center of the building.
The room smelled slightly musty, as though it hadn't been used recently, but the plush blue carpet, the large circular table in the center of the room, and indeed the air itself were all free of dust. In the center of the table was an extremely sophisticated holoprojector, the type normally reserved for military commanders trying to run battles. The amount of control one had over presented data was staggering."On Dressel, the prevailing policy is that events that occur in public are not subject to privacy laws, and as such, are often recorded through multiple means. We have the data on the Mandalorian incursion, as well as the Jedi involvement, from the time they arrived in system to the time they left. The only problem is, there's so much of it in so many different formats that we couldn't be sure of what would be most relevant to you beforehand. What we're willing to do is provide you with the use of this room, as well as a sensor tech, for the afternoon. She'll help you coax what you need from the whole." The Shard looked around the room for a moment, making certain that the room was secure. Prying eyes were hard to sneak in this far into the interior of the building, but one could never be certain unless one checked for themselves."That's the official reason, and in a moment, the tech will be in here and you can go about your business. Unofficially, however, I have a message from the Shard Network. The Network is neutral to all parties until they either prove themselves to be a threat or of use. We have reason to believe that, for the moment, the Jedi may fall into the category of useful, and for that reason, we're willing to extend an olive branch."
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Post by Deleted on Jul 15, 2014 11:52:44 GMT -8
I smiled as the Shard spoke of the resources I was being allowed to use… on a deeper level, I did not like that some jedi further down the road could come here checking up on me… but I felt justified with the permission of Padawan Karidian to research the matter. but I took pause when Ilum talked about an olive branch my ears perked up just a little.
“I thank you very much for your generosity. This will help me out immensely. … as for your olive branch as for your olive branch… if there is a way I can repay your generosity, speak and on my honor I will do what I can”
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Post by Deleted on Jul 15, 2014 13:41:48 GMT -8
The expression that crossed Ilum's face might have been classified as a smile by a being only passingly familiar with the expression. This was something far more weary, far more cynical, and far more predatory.
"Generosity isn't the word I would use. Our olive branch comes in the form of an Iron Knight that will be returning with you, disguised as a simple astromech droid. This Iron Knight will, in fact, perform all of the duties of a droid, and it will perform them well. It will also serve as an information conduit. If you need to place a request for information with the Shard Network, it will be your contact. It will also gather that information. The information it gathers will be solely from open sources, so you needn't worry about your secure files being burgled, and it will not be available for distribution outside the Network. Is this acceptable?"
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Post by Deleted on Jul 15, 2014 14:51:22 GMT -8
I took a breath in and sealed my eyes if only for a brief instant. I saw down both of the paths of the fork i now stood in front of. Down the path where i refused the olive branch i felt the darkness choking out the light, however down that path from which I accepted the offering, I saw yavin being compromised from it’s security. Shaking my head as i could not see certain aspects of either future i open my eyes.“Ilum, i do apologize… but in good conscience i can not accept the astromech that you offer me. However, at my current station in my cycle… every data port has to be secured, and every bit of data is Sensitive. I mean no offense, but before i came here I had to call in back up to stave off a group with Terroristic ambitions who attempted to steal much of the Data held in the archives of my academy. for me to invite surveillance in that could do the exact same… It would be to rub spice in my wounds. that said though…” I dug in a pouch i kept with me until my hand plucked at 4 coins of particular size and shape before pulling out a small pile of peculiar medals.“ …I do appreciate the gesture, and in return would like to offer you this stack of Heicreds one for the leader of the Shard network, one for the head of state, one for lord eralam, and one for yourself. it comes from the Instramtan word Heian meaning an amicable and harmonious peace. I started making these out of the rarest of precious metals when i was elevated to the rank of master. the dragon removed from the coin symbolizes the promise i make by offering you these coins. the purple in the center is symbol of my primary blade. on the back you will notice Instramtan Calligraphy, it translates to “My word is my bond”. and the word i give you is that so long as i am welcome here, should Dressel require help in defending herself, i shall do all i can to aid her. I give this coin, not as a tribute or as an apology, but as a show of thanks for allowing my shoppe to first exist here.”
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Post by Deleted on Jul 17, 2014 15:55:36 GMT -8
Again, Ilum smiled. He hadn't really expected the Jedi to take him up on his offer, but it had to be made. He accepted the coins, though he frowned when the name Eralam was mentioned.
"Eralam is dead, unfortunately. However, I will see to it that the coin and the sentiment are passed along to his next of kin."
The Network knew that their former head had been somehow resurrected as a human, and that he was currently diddling the Sith Emperor, but Ilum wasn't cleared for that information. Only a select few were, and curiosity on the matter was strongly discouraged. So when Ilum said he'd pass along the coin, he meant it, partly because it was the right and honorable thing to do, but mostly because it would likely give him a chance to get off planet.
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Atia
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Post by Atia on Jul 20, 2014 14:13:52 GMT -8
She came with charter. The Banshees always came with Charter. She started at Juvex, coming around to Anobis to check on the Post-boxes, Bank accounts and sending packadges back to Juvex recieved from other cells all over the galaxy. Since Anobis was fairly neutral in this fun fun conflict, she went strait from there to Braheera.
-12-
Twelve was one of the few whom operated without a collar. She was no less a slave then with one, but she had lived a free life before feeling the cold embrace of the Crucible. She knew how to live a free life again. She was a journalist before, not a very successful one unfortunately. She was into the night-life. She partied, took drank, took drugs and then wrote about it in a blog. Her writings were interesting, but badly spread and thus, she got in debt with some nasty dealers. Those, to replenish lost revenue sold the girl into slavery, and that is how she found her place in civilised society again. The Crucible.
She called herself Kulu Rha'dn. Her papers were from Zeltros, so were her Job Application references, job history, and some basic knowledge of Zeltros to not seem suspicious. She lacked any kind of weapons or gear besides an eye implant, a datapad, some changes of cloths and a pen. A pen is always mightier then a sword, if you do not happen to have a sword at hand. Plus, its good for stabbing.
At once, she applied for a work permit, and a living permit, and took into a hotel. Next on the agenda was to get to know the town.
She went out to see the sights, check some bars, read some newspapers...
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Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2014 15:46:35 GMT -8
Again, Ilum smiled. He hadn't really expected the Jedi to take him up on his offer, but it had to be made. He accepted the coins, though he frowned when the name Eralam was mentioned."Eralam is dead, unfortunately. However, I will see to it that the coin and the sentiment are passed along to his next of kin." The Network knew that their former head had been somehow resurrected as a human, and that he was currently diddling the Sith Emperor, but Ilum wasn't cleared for that information. Only a select few were, and curiosity on the matter was strongly discouraged. So when Ilum said he'd pass along the coin, he meant it, partly because it was the right and honorable thing to do, but mostly because it would likely give him a chance to get off planet. I bowed my head and my brow furrowed as I heard the news of the fate of Eralam. I was CERTAIN that when I first started peddler’s crystals that I met directly with him when taking care of my paperwork and rent payments“ That is saddening to hear. and yes please deliver his medallion to the next of kin” whereas before I had an aire of confidence around me, this revelation caused me to lose that… noting that the sensor tech was not yet here I had an addition question to ask.“ I have one more request… if it isn’t too brazen. since you have every angle, I should be able to find the bits I need so that but while finding them is one challenge that I still see is analyzing the media in a single afternoon. to aid in that, may I make use of a data containment device so that the relevant files get saved for my analysis when I have a chance to view them and consider them fully?” I can’t say I showed an outward grin, but inside I knew that regardless of the answer I would have a record… it would just be a better help for them to say yes since I could directly pass the files to someone who could watch them with a better eye to these matters.
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Post by Chancellor Cihlbar on Jul 20, 2014 23:18:30 GMT -8
a Corellian made Councilor-class cruiser marked with the insignia of the Galactic Republic descends from the high atmosphere towards the pres-designated landing platform. The steams from the repulsors from the solvos before the landing struts descending onto the platform. The boarding ramp descends from the dorsal side of the vessel. The Galactic Republic diplomatic contingent disembarks the cruiser: Four Diplomats (a Nautolan, Rodian, Bothan and a Human), 8 Senatorial guards (2 for each), and two jedi knights (a Kel dor and a beautiful Hapan), and two non-descriptive Republic Officers with clandestine orders to do what must be done for the protection of the Republic. . . .
All disembark in an orderly fashion with the diplomats ahead and the jedi in tow with the Senatorial guards flanking all in the middle. They awaited there welcomers. . . .
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Post by Deleted on Jul 22, 2014 16:34:24 GMT -8
As if on cue, the aide appeared. She was a Dresselian female of average height and, if you were Dresselian, stunning beauty. She addressed the Jedi's question directly.
"Due to security protocols, foreign data storage devices are not to be mated with governmental computers. However, I will help you get all the data you require, and I'll provide a storage medium so you can take a copy with you. I do hope this will be acceptable."
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Post by Deleted on Jul 24, 2014 20:26:57 GMT -8
I shrugged the development meant that i could transmit… but it would be harder to get the files compressed, but it would not be impossible. i nodded my head
“i suppose that will do”
as the Sensor tech powered up the archival machines, i was offered a set of goggles so that i might experience what she was going through to find the files in the archives… it was a cloud of data that incased the two of us
“By Odin’s beard, this is amazing. I never thought this level of tech existed except in the means of my own projects… but to find this in perfect operation, THIS is what my project mirrors. *cough* alright, lets get down to business… start by searching for this Jedi, and then expand to fit any scene that incorporated her, or related to her." I produced a holo-statue of Alexis
=== Hours later ===
It was at twilight when Ilum came back in. finding the scenes was the easy part. it was getting the data stored on the portable hard drive that i found though. needless though i fished out one more heicred for the sensor tech and two well loaded Credit chips, one for Ilum, one for the Sensor tech.
“Thank you once again for helping me out… I would ask for your quiet about my visit… but i know the rules. either way thank you again, and remember the promise i made.”
on my way to the fighter I stuck the drive with a scanner stick to check for trojans before Sending a message to Master Rawkill back at the academy
::Master Rawkill, This is Diamonte Tuhlute. I have some more files regarding what may or may not be able to count towards padawan Alexis’ Knighting. will share as soon as i return.::
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Post by Deleted on Mar 14, 2016 22:58:44 GMT -8
If one were made to be a reflection of someone lost, so that another might look upon them and see who was lost, what becomes of one when the other no longer remains to look upon them? Are they a reflection, still, of the someone who was lost, or, free from the confines of the mirror of the other's gaze, are they instead free to be someone other than the someone lost?
The human replica droid created to replace a dead human ballet student named Cleite Kallas does not know for certain if, now that the other who had her created to look upon has gone and looks upon her no more, she is now free to be someone other than Cleite, or if, having been through all that she has been through since she came into being with the original Cleite's face, memories, preferences, and experiences programmed into her, she had, in fact, become someone other than Cleite long, long ago; for was that dead and gone Cleite not shaped by her individual experiences and choices, just as the HRD designed to replace her has been shaped by her own? Or, even with no other to look upon her, is the HRD a reflection still, merely making choices as Cleite would have were she not dead and buried so that she is, in the end, simply who Cleite would be now had she not died and had lived to live through what the HRD made to replace her has lived through?
Those were the thoughts that occupied the HRD as she traveled to Breehara, a destination chosen because it had no ties to either her own unique past or to that of the woman she had been made to reflect. Perhaps, the HRD had thought when choosing the destination - or perhaps merely choosing as her programmed preferences and reasoning processes concluded that she who the HRD was meant to replace would have chosen - a new place, free from any associations or links to her past or that of the woman who served as the template for her very being, would enable her to be a new Cleite, a Cleite free from the confines of the role she was meant to play for someone who is no longer present for her to play the role for.
Stepping off the boarding ramp of the passenger transport that has borne her here to the sub-equatorial, grassland covered continent, the HRD pauses so that the handful of other passengers disembarking flow past her, and then closes the wide, innocent looking blue eyes that she was given because they so perfectly replicated those of a woman dead and gone, and takes a slow deep breath she does not need to fill lungs she possesses only to perfect the illusion she was meant to present, and then lets it out while telling herself that she can be free is she can only find the courage to believe that she is. Opening her eyes, the HRD smiles as she walks purposefully forward; not, she believes, because the woman known as Cleite Kallas would have strode forward to meet her future with such an attitude, but because she chooses to do so of her own accord.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 19, 2016 20:29:36 GMT -8
Her past lives having been, save for the first years of her life, filled with violence of one kind or another, Cleite decides that now that she can choose what and who she is to be going forward, she will try to find and live a life as divorced from violence as she is able to build for herself with those resources she has remaining at her disposal. The credits she has left from her past lives are scant, but enough that the HRD is able to pay the down payment along with the first and last month's rent on a modest, small apartment in Breehara, with enough left over for any incidental expenses she might incur in the span of a month, maybe two.
Solitude a quality she would insulate herself in as much as possible for as long as the need for it remains within her, Cleite considers the career possibilities that would enable her to cultivate that solitude, eventually deciding upon pursuing employment as an actuary in the insurance industry; something so banal and isolated that it seems to her that there is no chance her externally-imposed pasts might intrude upon her self-chosen present, or that even a slightest possibility for violence finding her once more could exist.
Slight possibilities, Cliete will learn, are not at all the same as inviolate guarantees.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 5, 2016 13:22:05 GMT -8
After setting down in Breehara's starport, A'vimala begins her search for Kallas almost immediately; having learned of the woman's destination by tracking her financial activity, which led to the discovery of the purchase of the passenger freighter ticket to Dressel, A'vimala stalks from her ship to the offices of the starport authorities, where she hopes to learn all that she can of her quarry's movements since arriving via the easy, conventional route of consulting the starport and local law authorities. Should those agencies, for whatever reason, prove unable or unwilling to assist her, A'vimala will have to consider another means of picking up the human's trail.
Her Cycler rifle slung over a shoulder, and her Gaderffii carried in her left hand, the Tusken presents herself to whomever is manning the proverbial desk when she arrives at the starport authority offices. Save for the helmet which covers her face, even her eyes hidden in shadow, A'vimala does not wear the traditional garb of a Tusken female, though the robes and wrappings she does wear and which cover her from head to toe as her culture demands are similar enough to make it plain for anyone to see that she is a Tusken.
"I wish to speak to the highest ranking officer present," A'vimala announces, her tone brusque without being entirely impolite.
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