Down Comes the Rain

Broadcast

(In another galaxy, the reporters of the Republic had been long under the thumb of the senate. In this galaxy, the politicians underestimate the power of the press.)

Kal Skirata was in a Cantina on Tatooine when he heard about it. Someone had turned on the bar's holoprojector to a Republican channel that the cantina's occupants had been solidly ignoring, when a broadcaster interrupted.

"We've just received word that an exploding star out in wild space has put multiple systems on high alert. It has destabilised the Pluthan Asteroid belt, and evacuation and preparation in multiple system's are underway. In related news, the Jedi Explora-corps have not been able to hail the underdeveloped Planet, Eterra, and the Galactic Senate have declared the sparsely populated planet unsalvageable as all nearby systems are emptying at an unprecedented pace-"

Kal's informant's jaw drops in alarm, the Carida's pale skin turning purple in shock. "You see'in' this, Mando?"

"Uh-huh."

"That's a terrestrial level planet – it's almost half the size of Coruscant."

He maintains a careful level of blankness, having already run the numbers himself.

"Yep."

"Mando," she says softly, big black eyes mournful and round. "It's got over four billion inhabitants."

(It is now that Kal looks up from his drink. 'Sparsely populated my ass,' is his first thought.)

"And there just... letting it go?"

She nods numbly, wringing four-digit hands. "I'm not sure they have a choice, I mean, Undeveloped Planets like Eterra are usually left to their own devices until they reach a certain point in their space age. Surely..."

Kal turns his gaze back to the projector, where quick, grainy flashes of peoples and places race across the display. Children, adults, soldiers and civilians. Those who knew of Eterra, knew of its lack of unity. Thousands of nations crowded its surface. And for however human they may have seemed, baseline they were not. Not after twenty-thousand or more years apart from the rest of the galaxy.

"Surely someone must go. In rule of quarters, that's almost a billion children. I- Mando? Where are you-"

"Just a sec," he answers gruffly. "Gotta make a call."

(The undercover Jedi Shadow mentally pumps a fist in triumph. Nothing gets a Mando riled up better than a threat to kids.)