The End of the Innocence

Above the quiet world of Calan, the black space canvas yawned open and revealed a vortex of blue and white. From the bright swirling maw leapt forth a medium sized Coruscant-class corvette. It drifted idly until it was greeted by a quartette of starfighters, the smaller ships first circled the corvette then matched it's speed and flanked it on it's descent towards the planet...

"Calan Control, this is The Peko Albatross II requesting permission to land."

"This is Calan Control. Please state your business with Calan, Peko Albatross."

"Peko Albatross here, carrying the ambassadors from Coruscant to meet with representatives of The Confederacy. Transmitting clearance code now, Calan Control."

"Clearance code accepted, Peko Albatross. Please proceed to Docking Pad 085. Over."

---

For the last thirty minutes, Loki had been pacing the span of the viewport in the mess hall. His hood was drawn over his head, it had been there to shield out the brilliant hyperspace light pouring in through the glass, now it remained for comfort. He stopped and turned to stare out of the window; Calan was in sight and he sighed.

"Finally! I was wondering what would come first: Calan or my next brithday." He pulled his hood back and sat at a small table upon which sat a half-chewed zansar sprig. He clasped his hands, rested them in the folds of his brown robes and leaned back in his seat.

"How do you think the Confederacy will deal with the proposal?"

Anbira sat across from his Padawan, watching the orb that was Calan drift closer in the window. He was filled with mixed feelings. It was a great opportunity for young Loki, as his first major mission with his Master. It was a coming of age moment. At the same time, the Jedi Master could easily discern that there was great tension in the coming meeting.

"Our hosts will be stubborn about it. They harbor old grudges against the Republic; grudges that will not soon be healed completely. We should exercise patience with them.

The commerce guilds of the Confederacy have not been such a unified economic and military power since ere before the Clone Wars. What they intend to do with such power is what I intend to discover, along with our original goal of establishing an enclave for the Order on Calan. These are dangerous times, Loki."

Anbira took a sip of tea, and returned the fresh stalk of Zansanar to the corner of his mouth.

"I understand you have had some dealings with the Cizerack before?"

"Nothing so serious, master." Loki grinned.

"My tutor in all things Cizerack is something of an eccentirc, although as I've been often told, a fine example of her people. Taataani even took me to Carshoulis Prime so I'm pretty familiar with their culture."

He lifted up his arms, arched his back and stretched his legs out. His knuckles cracked and he yawned, bringing his hands to rest behind his head. He opened his eyes wider than normal for a moment, keeping himself in check.

"Space travel really takes it out of me and no doubt I'll need my wits about me with Cizerack all around us. Very smart, very proud: they remind me of the Hutts in some ways."

"These Jedi robes wont do us any favours, either." He added, bitterly.

"Perhaps not." Anbira conceded.

"Perception is a powerful reality within itself. That being said, they will no doubt be expecting diplomats. I feel any attempt at altering such an expectation would seem contrived to those suspicious of the Jedi's intentions."

Anbira inwardly sifted over Loki's words. The boy carried great insight, and he must weigh it in his decision.

"What would you suggest, in order to bridge the gap with our felinoid counterparts?"

At this, Loki sat upright.

"It's a shame we don't have a woman with us." He said with a frown. "As presumptuous it may seem, it wouldn't have done any harm to our cause to follow the traditions and prejudices of the Cizerack people. But we'll have to make do without..."

He folded his arms in thought, staring at the objects on the table.

"It's the little things they will notice, I think. Show them humility without appearing weak. Make passing comments on the financial market without expressing a strong interest in business matters: they would be extremely suspicious otherwise. If they believe we are of keen wit and have prowess of negotiation, they will show us respect. And if we are dealing with females, which we probably will be, it can't hurt to let them know we are appreciative of their looks without appearing dominant... sexually."

He cleared his throat, a flush of pink in his cheeks. Then he appeared relieved to add: "Oh! And I think there is such a thing as an excess of table manners."

He lifted the teaspoon out of Anbira's cup, held it up for emphasis and placed it down on the table. From experience, he knew that Cizerack's weren't famous for etiquette at the dinner table. Although something told him that, regardless of diplomatic prerogative, his master wasn't about to lower his standards with a knife and fork anytime soon. He smiled at his mentor.

"I see..."

Anbira got the gist of it, with a bemused expression.

"I'll make an effort to talk with my mouth full, I suppose."

The twin doors slid open, and a young ensign stepped forward, saluting to the Jedi.

"Master Hicchoru, we are on final approach."

Anbira rose to his feet, nodding.

"Very well. It's time we met our guests."

The Master and Padawan stepped toward the debarking corridor of the ship, and felt a muffled thump as the vessel's landing struts touched down. Pneumatic seals whined and hissed, and the gangplank began to lower to the ground below.

Stood at the foot of the gangplank was a petite Cizerack female dressed in red ceremonial garb. She wasn't young and her silver her was wrapped in ornate twists above her head. On either side of her were two large Cizerack males in full uniform and behind them waited the rest of the welcoming party. Anbira approached the group steadily and Loki followed.

Anbira, as custom required, bowed to his hosts deeply. Upon rising, he regarded them. Beyond the Cizerack matron were other offworlders. A pair of Neimoidians lingered to the right, wringing their hands as they returned a pale shadow of the Jedi's greeting bow. To the left, a gaunt Muun smiled quite thinly. Perhaps Anbira read too much into it. The facial features of Muuns were at times minimalistic. Further still, a massive Hutt shifted on a floating dais, saying nothing.

"Ai'chaarree'da'nee'rraa." The Jedi Master dutifully addressed the matron in polite, but wrongly-inflected Cizeri. It apparently pleased the matron to see the Jedi humble himself to at least attempt it.

"And we welcome you as well, Masterr Hjicchorru. We arre pleased that the Jedji Orrderr has agrreed to hearr ourr clajims."

The Muun whispered something inaudible in her ear, which gave Anbira pause. The Matron nodded, and continued.

"jI must have yourr assurrances that you wjill speak jin custody of ourr jinterrests jin the Senate, yes?"

Anbira nodded.

"That is correct. We will plead your case on Coruscant. In return, we bring a series of requests for your conclave to hear in regards to Calan."

The Matron didn't immediately respond, letting her eyes drift toward Loki as she thought about Anbira's deal.