RPlog:The Humble Senator

Senator Al'Dira walks confidently with his hands folded behind his back. About thirty meters away is a well dressed security guard keeping a sharp watch. The twi'lek has a datpad in his hand as he rubs his chin with a free hand. The Starport is not terribly busy save for freighters and night travelers. The quite hum of engines is the only sound outside of the senator's heels on the hard surface of the ground.

A lone shuttle pierces the serenity of the starport with the whine of its engines and the soft cachunk of hydraulic feet against ashen duracrete landing zones. Spitting up dust in the wake of the turbines devouring air for combustion, the shuttle settles down after a moment of what could be likened to an insect's hesitation before dropping the loading ramp down with a tinny thud. Galatea emerges from its maw swiftly with a large duffle bag in tow on her right. Garbed in urban combat gear save for her helmet which hangs from a strap on her left hip, the combat medic carries a slight air of frustration about her stance and the soft recesses underneath her eyes. Her heavy step further amplifies this fact, almost managing to break the din of the shuttle's engines with the tromping of boots on tarmac.

Stepping off of the end of the ramp, Galatea pauses briefly and inhales deeply of the Alderannean air. Her lungs were saturated with salt and water from the Mon Cal homeworld and it would take her quite some time for her to expunge the briney taste of tin from the back of her throat. Fortunately, the medic had had the opportunity to bathe before embarking on the trip and her hair was flowing about in stark contrast to the sweat matted form it was usually found in these days. Inhaling and exhaling slowly and deeply, some of the tension is released from the muscles of her back, removing some of the predatory nuances to her stance. She didn't enjoy being away from combat but not being stuck in the humidity had a psychological impact that even she could not deny.

The Senator is pacing awkwardly. He doesn't repeat the same pattern more than once. One way he walks about two meters, turns around and walks four, then he turns and walks another two. Alistair looks up completely oblivious to the world around him and gestures to nothing in particular. Sharpened teeth occasionally flash as he recites a silent speech that is only half written. Twin lekku comfortably wrap around his neck and wiggle in thought as the Senator does his best to focus. It's been a busy and hectic couple of months, combined with his decision to leave for Dac to speak on the issues there, there is simply a lot on the short man's mind.

If Galatea had one fatal flaw, it was an inability to get away from work and the froth of chaos. It was in her blood to bend the world through force - torture, weapons or even old fashioned brawls were well within her comfort limit. Her propensity for duty, even when she was on leave, was what set her aside from 'normal' military personnel. Likely a remnant of Imperial conditioning. It doesn't take long for the combat medic to pick the man out of the crowd and she frowns. Furrowing her brow momentarily, she approaches him swiftly and with purposeful strides.

"May I assist you, citizen?" Galatea queries with clipped tones after she comes to a stop little more than a meter from the individual. "It is less than prudent to pace about in such an area given the political situation afflicted the Republic." (speaking in Ryl)

As Galatea nears it is apparent that the twi'lek is speaking out loud. "I realize that beyond a shadow of a doubt - er.." Alistair looks up as the query reaches his ears. For a moment he looks confused as he is interrupted from his thoughts, but then he smiles warmly. "Oh no, I am quite fine - thank you. I find it easiest to think with the hum of idling turbines. Much less stuffy than the rumble of the Senate offices." Senator Al'Dira chuckles slightly as he carefully slips the datapad away, deciding to take a break from speech-forging. His head leans forward as he examines the area around him. "Less than prudent certainly, but unless I am unaware of some declaration of martial law - not illegal."

Galatea blinks slowly and deliberately as she absorbs the twi'lek's chatter and mannerisms; aside from that particular action, her face betrays no inner emotion or reaction and she maintains her pristine stoicism without much visible effort. Unceremoniously, she allows the duffle bag to drop to the ground with a dull thud and sets her arms akimbo at her sides. Her offhand settles itself within a finger's width of the stock of her 36T carbine.

"An accurate assessment. If you'd be willing to provide identification I will see to it that you encounter no further-- obstructions during your tenure on the airfield." Galatea states robotically, sliding from Ryl to Basic will little issue. It wasn't uncommon for twi'leks to use basic when conversing with humans. There was a subtlety Galatea could never catch on to when using the language. Perhaps it was the lack of tentacles.

Galatea's robotic statement bothers the twi'lek somewhat, but Alistair doesn't so much as miss a beat. The charasmatic smile remains on his face as he produces his identification. "I am Senator Al'Dira, of Ord Mantell." The twi'lek allows his ID to hover for a moment until he decides she's had enough time to examine it. Replacing it within his coat he shifts his weight and places his hands behind his back. He doesn't seem to be at all threatened by her attitude or weapons, though he does seem hesitant to make any sort of friendly conversation - she seems to be all about business.

"Good to see the Republic's finest are still on their toes." the Senator rubs his chin, "though you seem oddly familiar."

Galatea peers at the card as it is produced and nearly sneers at the Senator moniker. The muscle that runs along her cheek bone on the right side of her face involuntarily pulls taught for a heartbeat as the medic suppresses some flash of emotion or some otherwise powerful force lurking in the recesses of her mind. Republic life had been eating into her rigidity slowly but surely. Pulling her posture upwards and bring her shoulders up to run parallel with her collarbone, she continues to remain fixated on the senator with no modulation of her tone.

"Acceptable," the marine states, acknowledging the completion of her inspection. She ignores the comment about the Republic's finest for now. "It's entirely possible we have crossed paths at some point. The universe is far smaller than most can possibly imagine."

Alistair's smile slowly begins to fade as he respectfully regards Galatea. For a moment he feels as though he should say 'at ease' or something, but decides it would be utterly ridiculous and humiliating for all parties involved. "It's true. A difficult concept to grasp all the same." The twi'lek allows his un-gloved hands to fall to his side, pointed fingernails gently resting on the seems of his trousers. It isn't that Ali is unnerved by Galatea's disposition, it is something that he is suddenly in an awkward situation that he doesn't know how to make less awkward. "It isn't often someone asks for my identification. Not here, at least."

Galatea subtlely cocks her head to the side but remains unflinching with her gaze set on the twi'lek's face. It nearl boggled her mind how many times she had arbitrarily run into members of the Republic's political party. If there was one failing in the Republic, at least in her opinion, it was how many people had their hands in the political -- and by extention the power - cookie jar. The Imperial mindset was of one mind, one force and one goal. No energy was wasted on internal bigotry and discussion because it wasn't tolerated.

"A potentially fatal oversight that I will report to my superiors, Senator. Such installments are critical to the Republic's survival and should not be taken lightly even if it causes a certain level of inconvenience for the general public," the combat medic replies in a matter-of-fact manner with no mocking or lecturing undertones in the pitch of her speech. Freedom in important places led to consequences. The assassination attempt on the wookie senator was a result of such complacency.

"You are absolutely correct in your assesment." Alistair nods firmly. "We haven't got the liberty of safety and convienience, it must be one or the other and the one to be chosen is apparent." The twi'lek looks very young, especially given his 'title.' He took the polls by storm when he suddenly decided to throw his hat in for the race of Senator. Despite his youth there is something experienced about him. This evening he is not wearing the black balaclava that covers the majority of his lekku. Tribal tattooes roll down his muscular appendages into fine black tips.

"I don't suspect you will realize that until it's too late," Galatea states before crouching slightly to heft the weight of the duffle bag back on to her right arm. The combat medic doesn't pay enough attention to politics to know anything of that kind of thing. Her interest is purely selfish extending no further than the activities of the 224th and that of her status in Imperial space. "I would suggest that you choose less sensitive areas to act as muse in the future."

"Your suggestion is appropriately noted." The response is almost sarcastic, but it is difficult to discern. "But my presence is is equally noted and the proper authorities are aware. It's my own right to put my life at risk. As it is yours. I am merely a Senator, a near useless bureaucrat - you're certainly far more valuable." The twi'lek lowers his brow slightly any evidence of a smile completely gone from his face. Despite his station Alistair still finds himself terribly ignorant. There's just far too much to learn and know of things. The interaction between the combat medic and the Senator draws the attention of the nearby security guard but he makes no movements towards them.

Just about to leave, the medic shifts her weight to the left and begins to step into her stride. However, the senator's words compell her to stop in her tracks and twist her head back to face the man. At this point, Galatea nearly snorts, expelling an audible blast of air from her nostrils that flares them out subtlely and failing to disguise a certain level of disdain from the way she has set her eyes.

"Such humility," Galatea states, settling herself perpendicular to the senator with her head twisted to the side enough to address him face to face. "I hardly doubt that's sincere. In the Republic you hold more power than I could possibly hold to mustre in any reasonable amount of time. The political arena filters competitions of physical force into that of social popularity, intrigue and coniving manipulation. Lacking value? Perhaps. Politics don't require it. It's the perception of value in others that's important."

"It is true, there is no lie in what you speak." Alistair offers with a helpesless and resigned shrug, he realizes some thread of commonality and pulls at it with all his might. This is his gift after all, perhaps he could make a good situation out of this encounter yet.

"It is a sick and unfortunate truth, one that I still must come to real terms with. I sit in offices and audience chambers with cowards, cheats and liars. We're the 'great Republic' and millions of sentients are represented by some of the most self-absorbed corrupt individuals I've ever met in my entire life. But I am sincere when I say that in any given day you give more than any politician. I respect and appreciate that more than you could know." Senator Al'Dira puts a hand to his chest, "My intentions for the Republic, no matter how sincerely I sound when I declare them, can be called into question. But yours, or that of any other soldier? Actions are more powerful than words."

Galatea is hardly impressed by the man's linguistic prowess and displays it in the baring of her canines as if she were a wild animal, considering tearing the Senator's throat out and feasting on his innards. In turn, her right fist clenches tight about the bag's soft, woven handle making the duraweave fabric of glove whine in audible protest. After a handful of heartbeats, the marine breaks her visage and instead allows her lips to curl upward in an equally uneasy gesture.

"Filling my ears with honey, Senator?" Galatea was amused by the deja vu she was experiencing. "You're probably just as vile as those you abhor. You just haven't realized it yet."

"I'de like not to be," Alistair virtually pleads. "What would I have to gain by rubbing you the right way? I don't even know your name. I have no reason to prove anything to you. Honestly, I could lay myself out before you and it wouldn't mean a damn thing." Truthfully the Twi'lek would like to please her simply because in such times he has few allies and he hates for people to dislike him. If anything he makes it a goal to earn her respect, though he doubts he could do it through simple wordcraft.

"I however fear you are correct. I may be just as fowl as any other politician, but I know how I feel towards this Republic. I know how much I would give to see it's continued survival and ultimate victory over her enemies."

"Then why are you trying to convince me of your virtue?" Galatea questions, raising her eyebrows quizzically and jutting her left, and unoccupied, hand forcefully out to the side with the palm facing the sky. She adds a little emphasis by angling her torso forward to add the volatility of movement to her words. "Politics frustrate me. Senators frustrate me. The Republic frustrates me. However, all of that pales in comparison to the thought that perhaps I threw away my life on Coruscant - one with a lucrative future within one of the most powerful Imperial branches in existence - to watch the faction that I've joined commit suicide on the knife's edge of its own bureaucracy."

Galatea strikes home. "Perhaps I try to convince others because I must convince myself. I share your frustrations and I hold many doubts and the only way I can think otherwise is to make others believe too." Alistair doesn't know Galatea well enough to explore further the mentioning of Coruscant, hell, he doesn't even know her name. "We're all driven by something, somehow. I believe it is probably my way of going on, my source of strength. Intelligent individuals never make huge life-changing decisions without putting good thought into their intent.. so many challenge my own, I feel the need to constantly prove it" Almost as though he were threatened.

"Unbelievable," Galatea punctuates her statement with a gutteral sound that originates from the middle of her throat. How could anyone that wasn't confident of their abilities or choices possibly be elected to such a position with so much power resting at the tips of their fingers? It boggled her mind how much it took to head the Imperial state - at least in terms of her perception - and how insignificant every Senator she had met appeared to be. Even Luke left the marine with a bitter taste at the back of her throat. Something about Republic citizens prodded at her mind like a rusty knife trying to make its way through cold butter. Twisting on the ball of her foot, the marine makes to step away yet again.

Defeated, Alistair merely says. "Sorry for keeping you. Good luck." The twi'lek isn't entirely certain why he wished her good luck, but it seemed fitting anyways. Ultimately it shouldn't matter but it deals a blow to the twi'lek. Anger bubbles beneath the surface but he sees no reason to drag the Marine back. Her mind is made up, and he simply lets it go. The Senator does not move and simply stands there, dejected.