The comlink built into his cuff chirped. Elzar sighed as he brought his arm up to his mouth, spotting the time on the chrono next to the communications device. He was already late.

“Jedi Mann?” Samera’s voice was clipped, professional, and there was no mistaking the use of his title. Maybe she had people with her. Maybe not.

Elzar had already turned and was striding toward the nearest exit. “I’m on my way.”

“Understood.”

The comm cut off. Yeah, Elzar understood, too. The message had been received loud and clear.

The chancellor’s shuttle was already touching down as Elzar pulled into the landing bay on the speeder bike he had picked up from the Temple. He hopped off the saddle and resisted the urge to jog over to join Samera and the welcoming committee. The coordinator turned to acknowledge his presence without even one word of greeting as he hurried to take his place. At any other time he would have said that she looked stunning in her smart trouser suit, her hair pinned high, but if her frosty reception didn’t give him reason enough to pause then the presence of the members of the fair committee certainly did, especially the infuriating Captain Idrax Snat. The humorless Neimoidian headed up the Valo Security Force and, in Elzar’s not-so-humble opinion, should never have reached such a lofty position. Elzar had spent most of his dealings with Snat fighting the urge not to plunge his lightsaber through his own hand. He had never met someone so convinced of his own importance and yet so incapable of doing his job. Elzar had no idea how the captain had risen to his ridiculously high rank, but at least he seemed to have the sense to surround himself with VSF agents who actually knew what they were doing. Elzar knew Samera felt the same way about Snat … Samera whose long neck was still far too diverting. Thankfully the whine of the chancellor’s boarding ramp banished most if not all thoughts that were unworthy of a Jedi. Elzar adjusted his robes as all eyes turned to the open hatch. Chancellor Lina Soh did not disappoint as she emerged from the shuttle, wearing a gown of shimmering silver, her ever-present targons padding down the ramp at her side.

“Chancellor, welcome to Valo.” The greeting was given by Lonisa City’s mayor, a pleasant Valon by the name of Nas Lariin. “We have been looking forward to this visit for many cycles.”

“As have I,” Soh said, bowing in the traditional Valon manner. “May I introduce my son, Kitrep.”