Syion landed the Lancer on the Bothawui Cargo Platform, it settling nicely as the technicians scrambled to get to work. He unbuckled his seatbelt, stretching his arms and pushing himself to his feet with a start. The bantha-hide seat had already shown it’s signs of wear, but it remained serving it’s purpose nonetheless. Making his way down the ship’s ladder, he nodded to the Bothan service technicians that began refueling and inspecting the Lancer Class for any signs of critical wear.
His reasons for this run did not stop at cargo. He was here on a diplomatic mission as well, hoping to not only establish ongoing trade routes for the Senate, but to secure relations with the Bothan Council to hopefully take a position as a Senator in the future. Syion had served in political positions before, as any Bothan worth his salt would.
Strolling down the street, Syion had not expected Drev’starm City to have changed in his absence, as short as it had been. He had only returned to the Core worlds for a few months, and now he felt lost in his own home. Familiar landmarks now became foreign, and Syion sighed in frustration. This was surely Fey’lya avenue…wasn’t it?
“Well, well, well. Looks like we found us a rich old man.” A voice echoed behind him. Syion flinched slightly, thieves at a time like this? He stopped in his tracks, leaning slightly over his shoulder to take a brief glance at his attacker. A young Bothan male stood behind him, DH-17 in his hand, and desperate look in his eye. Syion then looked ahead once more, slowly raising his hands beside his head.
“Ye don’t want to do this, Son. Ye can put that blaster down, and ye can walk home today. Or ye can keep walking forward, and one of won’t walk out of here alive. Don’t know which, but one of us won’t.” Syion gave his warning. He needed to buy just enough time, and he had. He dove forward, the shriek of the DH-17 firing behind him and striking the wall. He drew his own scout pistol, adjusting the settings. The mugger had turned violent, and it was Syion’s turn to return the favor. He rolled out from behind cover, firing blindly where the thief stood, either by luck or skill, he struck him twice in the chest, bringing the young Bothan to the ground, stunned.
“Gonna need security at my location. And a ride to the Council Chambers would be nice.” Syion barked into his Comlink. He’d be late to his meeting now, but all the while worth it. Whatever the Council had to say about joining the Senate, he could convince them. No Bothan could deny the lure of politics, and this was the ultimate politic game. With luck, he may even be elected the Senator as he wished.
The steps of the council building were massive, ornately designed marble monoliths compared to the surrounding building’s architecture. Massive marble columns and obsidian tile criss-crossed the interior, this was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful buildings on Bothawui. Syion looked up at the steps, preparing to start his journey up them. Could he stand a chance with the Council?