Naboo

[Cuculain]

In the aftermath of the BATTLE OF ENDOR, uprisings against

Imperial opression spread throughout the Galaxy like wild-fire.

Under the rule of QUEEN KYLANTHA, the people of NABOO

seek to throw off their shackles – only to feel the heel of the

Imperial jackboot strike down upon them once again. Marked

as traitors to the EMPRESS, members of the Naboo Security

Forces and the civilian population flee THEED CITY to

they seek not only the refuge of the Gungan swamps, but the

strength to return and reclaim their besieged homelands . . .

[Zofi Rimora]

Riyoo – A small fishing village three hundred miles south of Theed

The sight of a freighter making it's way north caught the attention of the boy for a moment while his companion, an older man, finished tacking on the bait to a line and cast it into the water.

The skiff shifted a bit as it hovered above the open waters. The wind carried the smell of salt and the land, for the wind was coming in from the mountains at this hour. The sun was high, indicating the afternoon was moving toward evening.

“Tie the line in,” he said to the boy sitting down at the rudder. “A storm is coming. It will stir up the waters and we’ll have a heavy take tomorrow if the storm abates.”

The boy nodded, tying the buoy and beacon to the line and dropping it off the side of the skiff. He nodded in understated praise of the knot and activation of the beacon, and bent to work getting the last of the equipment tied and stowed away.

“Zofi,” the boy said, his voice rising to ask a question, but he stopped unsure of himself.

“Yes?” he replied, not taking his eyes off the knot he was making for the poles. The boy remained quiet. He finished tying the knot and shoved the line-poles into their allotted space in the aft storage compartment. The skiff bobbed with his steps as surely as if they had been floating on the water itself. He turned to look at the boy.

“Now, I think we’re all done. Take us home, Panka.”

Panka nodded, and started the engine, which hummed pleasantly as the skiff began to turn back to the shore and make its way back to its berth. He was only distracted for a moment.

“Are you eating alone again, Zofi?” Panka asked, looking at the older man for a moment. Zofi nodded reluctantly. “Eat with us tonight. Forget all about mother and how much she wants you as a son-in-law. We all love your stories over supper.”

Zofi smiled at the earnest expression on Panka’s face. “How can I say no to an invitation like that? I will come.”

Panka smiled and nodded. The next few minutes were spent in silence as the shore blurred past them. The mooring process was quick and easily done, and soon the two parted, with Panka extracting another promise from Zofi that he would come to eat supper with them.

Striding through the surprisingly empty streets of Riyoo had him wondering what had happened to everyone. Usually there were many people out and about enjoying the clement weather of this season. There was a commotion, some shouts from the town centre, and Zofi came to a small bridge that overlooked the square, leading up the hill to the upper levels of the town, where his home was.

A platoon of Stormtroopers stood in the town square, with a number of townsfolk speaking with them. Some offered little trinkets, but most were reacting with the discipline of the Empire and ignoring any questions. The platoon leader, distinguishable due to his pauldron, was speaking with Amand, who was gesturing to mountains. Zofi regarded the scene for a moment, before quickly making his way up the steeper streets to his small home.

He threw open the door, and casting his fishing equipment to the side, he slammed it shut and quickly made his way through the entryway, through the small dining room, to the kitchen.

“You usually warn me before you make your way here, so I could prepare for stormtroopers making a sweep of the houses and make sure you remain hidden. They were closer to catching you than usual, I take it?” he asked his newest, unforeseen, but not unfamiliar guest, who was pointing a blaster at him. A steaming bowl of stew sat not far away, indicating what they had been doing before his arrival.

[Zofi Rimora]

“Stay until tomorrow. Go, get yourself cleaned up and put some clean clothes on,” he said. “There’s a room upstairs, the second door to your left. Sleep there.”

The comm chirped, and the guest disappeared into the cellar with a pot of stew.

Zofi shut the door and sealed it. The comm chirped again, and Zofi looked out the viewport to see the Stormtroopers still in the square.

After the fourth chirp, Zofi answered the comm.

“Zofi?” Panka’s mother’s voice drifted from the comm sharply. “Are you all right? Panka told me that you’d come for supper tonight, but you still haven’t come. Do you not like my daughter, Zofi? She’s beautiful I tell you--”

“She is too young,” Zofi responded. “I am over ten years older than her, Franné. That does not sit well with me.”

He continued before she could cut in and prolong the argument they’d had since her granddaughter had turned seventeen, five years before.

“I will come for dinner, but I had to make sure my home was well kept. We have guests in the square, you know.”

“I know,” she replied, a note of defeat in her voice. She’d regain her composure and will to make a match for him in the time it took to walk to her house. “Come quickly, the food will get cold.”

He made some wordless reply, and closed the channel. The Stormtroopers would likely be searching homes tonight and leaving his guest would be asking for trouble and detention camp.

The refresher upstairs was running. Zofi climbed the stairs and entered the guest room, opening the bureau and rummaged through the drawers, pulling out clothes and tossing them onto the bed.

The refresher quieted, and he heard the door slide open.

“Throw your old clothing out. Wear these,” he said. “Are you still hungry?”