Ep V: Chapter 9

Chandar’s Folly is a little off the beaten path. It’s not rich in resources, but it does have interesting features that this Scora Waldas must be counting on to attract people. Her development is big enough that village or settlement are the wrong words for it; it’s a town populated half by scientists and surveyors interested in the planet and half by tourists. It’s home to a variety of businesses like fine dining and live entertainment drawn from nearby systems.

At a glance, it’s not a bad getaway spot, and Enthea gets more than a glance as the shuttle brings her to the surface. Waldas hasn’t shown much imagination by calling this place Chandar’s Resort, but she can’t change the name of the planet.

Everyone else on the small transport is a tourist. Enthea stays unobtrusively at the rear of the queue. When she finally disembarks, she’s greeted with a cool breeze.

The Resort is built onto a mountainside with beautiful, massive crystal formations overlooking the stormlands. It’s a supremely impractical place for a settlement, and the views that it offers along with relative isolation are its main selling points. There are other settlements on Chandar’s Folly, but the closest is hundreds of kilometers away.

The structures of the Resort are all narrow, elegant, swooping lines in white with golden roofs. Enthea doesn’t see a single flying vehicle as she steps off the ramp. Small hovercars with open tops wait to take the tourists up the lovely road to the gates of the Resort. Waldas has a landing pad for her yacht within the Resort itself, but Enthea is where everyone else is: the tiny spaceport at the foot of the mountain.

The hovercars are all being driven by droids except a pale blue, antique M-68 landspeeder. It’s beautiful. Its driver leans against it holding up a sign that appears to be a serving tray that has been repurposed. The word JEDI is scrawled on it somewhat haphazardly.

Enthea approaches, intrigued.

The driver is a tall, dusky Zeltron. She’s dressed casually and her ponytail is wild.

“I thought you’d be taller,” she says, smiling down at Enthea. “We’ve got a nice place set up for you. Best we could do discreetly. Wouldn’t want to look too grateful to the Jedi. You understand.”

“I’m grateful for the warm welcome.”

“Oh, you Jedi.” The Zeltron grins and takes Enthea’s bag, placing it in the back of the speeder. “So polite. I just don’t know what to do with that.” The Zeltron’s wearing leggings and a sleeveless top under a loose linen jacket. The outfit doesn’t hide her athletic physique or impressive bulge. She’s well-muscled, and there’s a blaster holstered in the small of her back.

“I was told that Waldas had hired a bodyguard. Is that you?” Enthea asks as she makes her way to the passenger side.

The Zeltron pauses, about to vault into the seat behind the wheel. She looks taken aback.

“I’m sorry,” she says, extending her hand across the speeder, toward Enthea. “Scora Waldas.”