Officially, the building was known as the Refugee Resettlement Administration (Ord Mantell). Unofficially, it was known as The Box. Partially, this was because of its construction. The wars, between Exar Kun’s and now the Mandalorians, had seen waves of refugees flee towards the core however they could, and though Ord Mantell wasn’t on the old lanes like it used to be, it was still a centerpoint for the Republic in the area. That had meant the need for rapid infrastructure, which had led to the creation of a building out of duracrete that was roughly box shaped. The other reason was a joke among the workers there; “Open up the box and you’ll find something new every day.”
Cri Rhu was overwhelmed. The smell, for one thing, was intense. Hundreds of alien bodies crammed into the space which was not the best ventilated. A line of republic workers sat behind a short wall, tapping at terminals and speaking to the various refugees on the other side, each separated from the one next to them by little more than a flimsy board. A gamorrean and what was presumably his wife, a rodian with a child, an elderly looking ithorian. Above each terminal and republic worker was a screen that flashed up a number as someone was processed through.
His eldest held stubbornly onto the chit that he had handed her with their number. Apparently it was supposed to buzz when it was their time. She also kept her hand firmly on her younger brothers, who was, to his great relief, the most relaxed child he had ever seen. He mostly seemed to want to nap, as he was doing now, leaning against his sister. A kindly bothan had given up their seat to the children, and Cri Rhu had done his best in basic to thank them before they wandered off.
“Papa.” Siwin Judor tugged at his sleeve and held up the little device, which now blinked through various colors and gave a soft humm. Keeping Ca Jor in his arms, he took it, looked at the number, and handed it back.
“Stay with me, now. Wake up, Ysi Jri.” he grabbed her hand and tugged them both through the crowd, trying to keep himself calm. As he walked through the crowd, past the standing and sitting aliens, he felt something in chest that had been swelling up. Shame. His family hadn’t had the chance to bathe properly in weeks, and tongues only went so far. Their clothes were dirty. He tried not to think of the smell. Anger and shame burned in his chest, regardless.
“Welcome to Ord Mantell, name and citizen number.” said the worker on the other side of the wall. He looked tired, and hadn’t even looked up from the console. Cri Rhu processed the basic and then did his best.
“Cri Rhu. No citizen.”
“No citizen? Wha-” the worker looked up, and blinked “Oh, uh, give me a moment.”
He depressed a button, and leaned back, talking to someone off to the side, the simple forcefield dulling the sound. Another republican walked up, and peered at the family. Cri Rhu stood, holding his youngest in his arms, the four year old nestled into his shoulder. Ysi Jri and Siwin Judor stood beside their father, holding eachothers hands, the eldest on the cusp of gaining her adult mane, the younger one sleepily watching the republicans.
“You’re Cathar, correct. One moment.” the new republican said, an older woman. She leaned over and tapped the console, then pointed at something. The younger man looked at her, then back at the family, then nodded.
“You can go ahead and speak your native, we’ve got translation software up.” she said. The speaker built into the desk translated it into Catharese, and Cri Rhu relaxed a bit. It was tinny but it was understandable.
“Thank you. I was saying, I am not a republic citizen…”
“Right, we understand. That doesn’t mean you don’t qualify for refugee benefits though.”
He bowed his head in reply, a silent thanks. The woman, tired as she looked, gave a smile.
“That being said, we’ve got special orders regarding Cathar. See that door to the side?” she indicated over to her left. Cri Rhu leaned back and nodded “Head over there and I’ll meet you .”
Cri Rhu did as he was told, though now the shame and anger in his chest was mixed with a small bit of fear. Why were Cathar special? Was the Republic angry for their leaving, so many years ago? Would they deny them status based on something that had happened over a century prior? Exhaustion and trauma threatened to overwhelm him, but he felt his daughter’s hand in his, and refused to let it.
The rear of the box was a different place. The room beyond the door was another waiting room, a smaller one, with refugees sitting around, usually couples or families, speaking quietly, looking tired, or nervous. He had seen so many races in the last few weeks he never knew existed, and then some. Here still were more, species he had no idea the name of, even a few human refugees. It was distinct, however, that they were the only Cathar. The woman who had let them in waved at him to follow, and he did, further into the building. Corridors lit by sterile artificial light blended into other corridors.
They were led into a simple office, all duracrete walls and light, though someone had attempted to brighten the room with a rug and a few potted plants. A droid hovered by, unperturbed by the visitors, watering can in hand. The human woman gestured to a pair of accommodating chairs, and Cri Rhu arranged himself and his family, taking one seat, resting Ca Jor on his lap, while Siwin Judor and Ysi Dri sat in the other.
“First, welcome to the Republic. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. We’ve just noticed a serious uptick in the number of Cathar refugees in the last weeks.”
Cri Rhu opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t. The words wouldn’t form. How could he say them? He hadn’t said them. He had watched it happen but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Our world is gone. His mouth closed, he nodded instead. The woman bought up a console display and started typing.
“So, your name is Cri Rhu, and how many are there in your immediate family?”
“Four, including myself.” he rested a hand on his son’s head.
“Any adult partner?” the woman asked. He couldn’t understand the words except for the translator, but he could hear the tone in her voice. She already knew the answer.
“Yes. My mate. She is…gone.” he said, as softly as he could. It didn’t help. He heard his children whimper, but to his pride his eldest took her younger brother in her arms and comforted him. It also broke his heart, though it felt like it could shatter no further. The human woman nodded, and she typed away.
“Any skills?”
“I am, was, a chef.” he answered, focusing back on the woman.
“Oh? That’s good, we have many possible grants for small business owners. Would you be interested in starting a business?”
He opened his mouth, a little stunned, and then settled back and thought, still stroking Ca Jor’s head. He enjoyed cooking, it had always been what he enjoyed, and he was good at it. Working as a chef for the chief of their branch had been lucrative and respectable, with his mate bringing fine game home.
“Yes, though I wish to secure things for my children first. Shelter, food, running water…”
“Of course, absolutely. That’s great though, that opens up a lot of options for you.” she seemed genuinely pleased, as far as he could tell human emotions, as she typed away, mood clearly lifted a bit.
“Alright, the good news is we have some openings here on Ord Mantell if you’d be interested. It should be relatively close to your homeworld’s climate, slightly more arid and a bit more mountainous outside the valleys. Alternatively, we’ve got openings on several ecumenopoli, and there’s a few worlds further from your homeworld’s climate that are accepting refugees with your skills and numbers.”
“Here, here is fine. Many of my people will pass through here, yes?”
“Oh for sure, we’re a major transfer point for refugees.” She nodded understandingly, tapping away “I’ll have to get some paperwork cleared, but we might be able to get you in before the day is over.”
“That would be amazing. A shelter of our own?”
She nodded, and Cri Rhu hugged his son briefly, to Ca Jor’s surprise. He had been settled in getting his head pet, and the change of affairs came as a shock.
“Thank you, so much. For my family, thank you.”
“Of course, of course. Those barbarians on the border are really driving people out. Now, there is a few other things, and one of them’s going to be a little bit tough, but I need you to trust me, alright?”
Cri Rhu sat up, and nodded, though his neck prickled. She pulled out a pair of small, white devices.
“These are short range commlinks, tuned to just eachother. We’re going to have a medical examination of you all, just to make sure you’re alright. This won’t affect your settlement status. But, we will need to separate you.”
Now his hackles raised, and she swiftly placed the commlinks on the table.
“I’m betting you haven’t let them out of your sight since you left home. I understand. That’s why I’m giving you these. You can keep one, and you can give one to your oldest. That way if you’re worried you can talk to each other right away.”
He looked at the devices, and took one, depressing the button to make sure it worked. He heard the gentle hiss on the other one of an open microphone, and he handed it to Siwin Judor.
“Here, to talk to me you press here. We have to separate for a little bit, but you can talk to me. Do you understand?”
“Yes papa. I press the button, I talk to you, and you can talk to me?”
He gave her a smile and nodded. The woman watched them patiently. Cri Rhu looked at her, and then nodded, handing over Ca Jor to his daughter.
“Please though, do not let it be too long.” he added, as the woman stood.
He was in a different room now, this one a bit dimmer. There were two officers, Republic ones, and these ones wore a different uniform, black tunics and black hats and black gloves. They weren’t unkind, but they were serious. One looked older, with a nasty scar on the right side of his face, and the other was younger, both human. After the medical examination, they had pulled him aside and taken him to another room. There was little in it other than a table, some chairs, and a recording machine.
“We just need to ask you a few questions.” the younger one had assured him.
So they had. The older one mostly didn’t talk, instead simply sitting and watching the Cathar and the younger. Occasionally he would press on a question. Who he was, what he was hoping for, when they finally got to the thing that made the older pay more attention.
“What drove you off Cathar?” the younger asked, looking down at a datapad.
Cri Rhu stared at the table. He felt his claws come out, and he bought them back in. The older one didn’t move, and the younger hadn’t noticed.
“I…don’t know what they are called.” he finally began, hesitatingly.
“Just do your best to describe the circumstances.”
“They came suddenly. There was little warning.” Cri Rhu watched the table “The defense forces scrambled. They did not stop coming, though. The sky glittered with new stars.”
He could see it all again, hear it, smell it, feel it. The heat, the roar, the screams. Their killers never made a sound, no shouts, no whoops, just methodically killing them, burning homes, burning families. Gleaming metal armor and faceless helmets reflecting the fires. It hadn’t felt like an invasion, it had felt like an extermination. He’d grabbed them and ran, what else could he do?
“What did they look like?” the older one asked, still watching the Cathar.
“Metal. Metal men, but not droids. They flew on flame and metal. They burned our homes. Our trees. Our people.”
The two republicans looked at eachother, and the older nodded.
“Thank you. I know that was hard for you to say. Your children should be waiting for you, the man outside will escort you to them.”
Cri Rhu stood, but didn’t move past that for a moment. He asked, finally, hesitatingly.
“Are you going to fight them?”
“I can’t say. That’s for the senate to decide. But I don’t think we can let this pass.” the older man said. Cri Rhu nodded, and the two naval intelligence officers sat down. The older took off his hat, and ran his hand through his hair, as the younger passed him a cigarette. They stared at the recorder. They both knew what it meant. There was another war on their hands, against a people known for waging war as a religion.
“Why them?” the younger one asked.
The captain stared at the ceiling, letting the smoke fill his lungs. The scar on his face ached.
“Force knows. But this is just another datapoint, ensign. The pictures pretty grim though.”
“How many Cathar…?”
“Try not to think about it.” the captain said quickly, quietly, but not unkindly “Keep your mind on the job. Figuring out what the Mandalorians are doing.”