Beyond - Legends Annals of the Noble House of Trieste: Volume 10 (AU, OC)

It could be, but I think it more likely that it's a metaphor. Especially Ayn's line, "Move one of the black pieces. After all, things are in motion.", said while working on political business. That doesn't sound like a typical game to me.

 

Wow, two intriguing updates in a row! I wonder how you mange that all the time. Does your brain never go on strike with a writer´s block?

PS: Funny that you did mention Kilmainham in one of your updates:

Falene Trieste had always liked Prytis. She’d enjoyed the visits to Kilmainham Brook, the family estate of the Noble House. As Taoiseach, use of the great house was at her discretion and it was where she spent much of her time during limmie offseasons. She’d gone to university at the Prytis College of Natural Sciences. Though her mother had raised her in Salis D’aar, Prytis was home.

Actually, I chatted with a dear Au Pair friend from Italy briefly via what´s app. I told her about my memory how cold it was at Kilmainham Gaol in November 1996.

 

More like my fingers don't find enough time to get out everything my brain comes up with. After all, one can only have so much screen time.

You have correctly identified the source of inspiration for Kilmainham Brook's name! Luckily the family estate is much more welcoming than its namesake establishment.

 

AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 leiamoody Tim Battershell Vehn



Somewhere

Falene looked out the cockpit viewports, leaning over the back of the navigator’s chair, craning her neck to look up through them.

“So…uh…we can breathe out there…right?” Falene asked.

Mugrog Uepu, the Zabrak scientist on the expedition was scanning his eyes over his datapad. “The readings I’m getting say yes. It’s not exactly like the atmosphere on a standard habitable planet, but it’s close enough.”

“What’s close enough?” Kalrai Esnod, the Ithorian who had piloted the craft, inquired.

“You might be a bit short of breath, but that should be about it.”

“Should?” Falene pressed.

“This is literally uncharted territory,” Mugrog reminded them.

“I think we understand that quite well, my friend,” Kalrai said. “As if we might forget…” He gestured one of his broad hands to the viewports.

This was the maiden voyage of the Adventurers Club and the three beings had set off for lands unknown. The calculations had lead them true and they had arrived without incident at their destination. All had proceeded according to plan, perhaps better than could have been expected.

Still, they hadn’t prepared themselves for the fact that the sky was purple on this planet.

“Are there any worlds we know of with purple skies?” Falene asked again. She hadn’t gotten an answer the first time around. The ship’s navcomputer had some information about destinations and Kalrai had put it to the task of digging up that tidbit of information.

“Still no returns,” Kalrai said.

“What even causes it?” Falene wondered aloud.

“Most worlds due to the chemical composition of its air preferentially scatters blue light, even from a standard middle aged yellow star,” Mugrog chimed in. “Something about this atmosphere must preferentially scatter purple light, which is actually of higher wavelength than blue light.”

“Can we go back to the part about being sure that we can breathe the air out there?” Kalrai asked.

“I promise you that we can.”

“You willing to go first?” the Ithorian asked.

“Sure,” the Zabrak volunteered.

“Can’t let you do that,” Falene said. “If anyone’s going to get wasted in the airlock it’ll be me.”

“Yeah, sure, they’re going to believe that one when we get back. ‘We swear, the two-time Galactic Cup champion limmie player volunteered to be the one to test the atmosphere, honest. We totally didn’t throw her in there to die,’” Kalrai said, playing out the conversation that would doubtless take place chained to an interrogation table.

“I didn’t come all this way to be coddled,” Falene said, leaving the cockpit. “If Mugrog says we can breathe it, I believe him.”

Kalrai sighed. “I guess we’d better all go.”

“The vote of confidence in my skill is flattering, but prudence—”

“—would have been staying home,” Kalrai finished for the scientist. “Come on, let’s go.”

---

Falene had to admit, her heart did beat a little faster as she heard the first airlock door pressurize behind her. In just a few seconds, the one in front would hiss open and then she would breathe air that no being from the galaxy she knew had ever breathed before. She didn’t know if she was nervous or excited.

Before she could figure it out, the airlock door opened and revealed this new, nameless planet. Falene realized that she was holding her breath, perhaps out of lingering fear. She forced herself to exhale and fill her lungs with this new, foreign air. It rushed into her nose and mouth. There was a vague sweetness to it, something that Falene couldn’t put her finger on. Perhaps it was no different from the air of worlds throughout the known galaxy, but the very knowledge that it was new caused her mind to translate it differently to her senses.

Gingerly, Falene descended the ramp until her feet shuffled through the orange grass that covered the landscape in every direction. It swished almost silently beneath her feet as a breeze caused it to wave gently in long squiggles and arcs.

Falene Trieste, out of a galaxy of quadrillions and quintillions, was the first being from every world that had been catalogued and declared known to history as they knew it to stand on this planet’s surface.

“I claim this world for no republic, no federation, no union, no authority, no empire but save that which already calls it home. We seek to take nothing but only to expand our own knowledge so it may better illuminate what we know. Our place here is that of visitor. Let us disturb nothing and understand much,” Falene said.

Mugrog and then Kalrai stepped onto the earth beside Falene.

“So, what now?” Kalrai asked.

“I don’t know,” Falene said, breathing in deeply again.

She had won galactic sports championships and inherited vast fortunes. Her body had thrilled with adrenaline of athletic endeavor. She had seen dozens of worlds in her time and been adjacent to the greatest political power that her galaxy could offer in this day and age.

Never before had Falene Trieste felt so alive.

“I really don’t know,” Falene repeated. “It’s an adventure.”

 

This post automatically gets a like from me due to not only @Trieste's great writing but the wonderful songs of John Denver. Nice work!

 

AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 leiamoody Tim Battershell Vehn

Salis D’aar, Bakura

“You better frame that one, Trieste.” These words were accompanied by the latest edition of the Salis D’aar Times landing on Elfie Trieste’s desk. “This was all you.”

The headline was above the hold. MAJORITY WHIP IMPLICATED IN CREDITS FOR VOTES.

Elfie took hold of it and quickly read the first few lines.

A third party investigation by the non-partisan Clagatrelle Foundation has uncovered that Senator Estes Feller, Majority Whip of the Bakuran Senate and the second-ranking Fianna Fail politician in that body, accepted payments in his first term in exchange for his votes on several critical bills. The Foundation, which analyzes policy on a range of civil society issues, was made aware of documents that connected Feller to several classmates from Atalanta University. These classmates formed the core of Feller’s fundraising campaign. However, new documents uncovered and verified by the Clagatrelle Foundation, released yesterday, confirm that direct payments to Feller continued into his first term. The Foundation’s report limited itself to Feller’s first term and left open the possibility that the whip may have continued to accept payments in exchange for his legislative influence.

Elfie looked up at her coworker who had dropped the morning edition off. “This is...I can’t believe it. I came here to make a difference and now we’re on the front page of the Times!”

“After the digging you did and the research, you’re going to name your next assignment and probably get a raise. Think about what you want to do with your life, Elfie. It’s all up to you now.”

That was a thought that Elfie liked. She pondered it has her coworker left. So many possibilities sprang to mind. What she could do at a place like the Foundation...it was almost endless.

She tucked one thought away. It had kept popping up as she’d driven the research, done the financial searching through mountains of records.

Why had those first documents that suggested the link come to her?

---

The capital nearly exploded from the news. A sitting senator being accused of corruption happened from time to time, even in a generally orderly democracy like Bakura’s. But the Majority Whip, second only to the Deputy Prime Minister in stature, being accused of such a thing? This was precisely what the city could sink its teeth into.

Condemnation from the rival Unionists was swift. Calls for an inquiry were demanded from every corner. Though the election was two years off, the party out of power was never going to pass up an opportunity to prove the ineffectiveness of the opposition.

At first, Fianna Fail held firm. Senator Feller emphasized these charges were alleged and that he was innocent. But from inside the caucaus, already there was nervousness. The Senate was the bulwark against the legislative program of the Prime Minister. If the Majority Whip went down, he could drag the party with him. Soon the quotes began to leak out.

“The beings of Bakura need to know the truth.”

“Corruption must be rooted out, no matter what party it’s in.”

“If these charges are true, then action will be taken. But let’s make sure we do our due diligence first.”

The savvy watchers knew that bets were already being hedged. Soon there was so much squawking that no one realized who wasn’t saying anything. Two second term senators were not seeking out the cameras. It seemed strange that no one noticed that two committee chairs like Declan and Ayn Trieste appeared to have nothing to say about the whole affair.

The story grew. Other news outlets promised investigations stretching the Senator’s entire career. The Prime Minister said that, “if the Senate doesn’t have its house in order, then how can the beings of Bakura trust it?” It was a gauntlet thrown down.

A good senator knew when he was beaten and Feller had played the game long enough to be good at it. “I cannot in good conscience continue serving as Majority Whip in the Senate. My continued presence in this role will only hinder the important legislative agenda that Bakura needs.”

That was when the real action began. The number two position in the Senate was up for grabs and beings with ambition began making their moves. For those who understood the great game of politics, to win an election like this in your party’s caucus, you needed certain things. You had to come from a relatively safe district so that you wouldn’t be thrown out of office the next election. You needed a solid bloc behind you to build momentum, a group of Senators you could rely on. Most importantly, you needed to get a majority of votes in the caucus.

Many Fianna Fail Senators had safe districts. Some of them led voting blocs that would stand by them in the caucus. Only one of them had accrued enough favors to win a majority, and she called them all in now.

Ayn Dormingale was that Senator.

That night, she moved a white piece of the dejarik set, removing an opposing piece. It would be the last move for a while. She and Declan had spent all to get her into the leadership. Now she would hold it and begin stockpiling again. She would tell every Senator in the party the same thing in the coming days:

“I reward loyalty in my caucus. Ask the Young Blasters. As we worked together to get your spending bills through Appropriations we will now work together to get all your bills through. You’ll find that out soon enough for yourself. Fianna Fail has always known that we are stronger together. I put that into practice.”

She left her other philosophy unspoken: the whip that was cracked least hurt most when applied. She did not doubt that her fellow Senators would learn that in time.

 

Why do I get the feeling that Ayn and Declan orchestrated Feller's downfall? And that one of them was responsible for leaking the documents to Elfie?

And there's that dejarik set again. Clearly the piece that was removed symbolizes Feller, and the move of the white piece symbolizes Ayn and Declan's move to kick him out.

Yes, I'm onto you.

 

Spoiler

...or are you?

 

Getting pretty hinkey on Bakura! Ayn and Declan strike again

 

Your fanfic certainly shows how dirty politics can be! Even though I am reading it for quite a while now, it never fails to amaze me how power greedy some individuals can be.

 

This is a brilliant thread & I love your talent as a fanfic writer. But I am leaving the boards & I am sorry not to be able to comment any more. This way I just want to say good-bye! And I am not sure if I ever come back! After I received an important PM today, I understood that it is better to leave all behind. Even fanfic!

 

Sorry to see you go. Your comments are great to read

 

jcgoble3 leiamoody Tim Battershell Vehn

Gesco City, Bakura

For the first time in its history, The Rivers department store was closed on what was, for all other establishments at least, a normal day of business. Nicely calligraphed placards in the windows of the doors informed potential shoppers that the Rivers was “closed today for a private event.”

That event was the nuptials of one loading bay supervisor and one marketing designer. Put another way, today was the wedding of Mr. Rickard Harlow to Miss Ginnifer Lynd.

After learning that the two were looking for wedding venues, Octave Rivers had not just offered the use of the department store--he had insisted. After all, were the rooftop gardens not picturesque not just in its flora but also in the view of the city? Could there be any great convenience than having the kitchen facilities for the restaurants of the department store so close at hand for the reception? Naturally the wardrobe for the wedding party must come from the store’s fashions. And, of course, Mr. Rivers would accept nothing from the couple for the trouble.

“Your romance blossomed here at work. We should celebrate that. It would be cruel of me to charge you for it when I practically thrust you together,” Rivers had told the couple.

(It should be noted that behind the scenes, an honorarium was quietly paid by the Noble House to The Rivers department store courtesy of Siona Lynd, a member of the Rivers’ board of directors. After all, from her perspective there were profit margins to be considered in the matter. Of course, as a matter of marketing, a lavish wedding feting two employees was good public relations and the Noble House didn’t see the harm in keeping their payment quiet.)

The department store was always a gleaming place, but today’s occasion gave the place an extra sparkle. Perhaps it was the finery of the attendees that reflected the surroundings. The cream of Gesco City was in attendance as befit the marriage of one of its leading young socialites. Perhaps the latest fashions and newest housewares seemed more at home amongst beings who wore and used them. Perhaps it was just the general joy that a wedding brought when an attractive young couple took their vows. Whatever it was, the press were no doubt sorely disappointed that they were excluded from the event.

And what would they have seen if they had been there?

---

Though the couple in question was the centerpiece of the day, they were flanked by the wedding party. The fact that Ginnifer had brought no less than six bridesmaids (led by her eldest sister) had caused some consternation for Rickard, who did not keep the same large body of friends to pull from. Trieste cousins had been drafted for the occasion to make up the difference. Indeed, there was a decided Noble House tilt to the bridal party: Vesper Lynd and Falene Trieste in the bridal party; Cillian Lynd, Quentin Trieste, Alec Trieste, Enoch Trieste, and even a very enthusiastic Horst Penn in the groom’s party. Antrose Trieste had been proposed as another way to make up numbers, but for reasons known only to Rickard and Antrose that idea had been gently forgotten. After all, Rickard might have killed a being for love of Ginnifer, but he didn’t want to think about it by having the being that paid him standing next to him at the altar.

There was one other notable addition to the bridal party: one Swann Cataline of the Hapes Consortium. She spent most of the ceremony eying her co-captain and the best man of the ceremony, conveying appropriate promises by way of unspoken words to him about plans for later in the evening. After all, it wasn’t every day they didn’t have a shipboard bunk to make use of.

---

“I love weddings,” Galactic Senator Gavin Serling of Eriadu said to his date. “They’re such happy affairs. You have the young couple, so fresh and optimistic. Everybody’s having a good time. Dancing, good food.”

“Make you think of yours?” Kerry Trieste asked him wryly.

“This one reminds me of the first and the third one. The second was a hasty affair. That’s what you get for marrying your secretary,” Gavin sighed philosophically.

“I think it certainly qualifies you as an expert,” Kerry teased.

“More from paying for two for my daughters,” Gavin said. “I think I spent the gross domestic product of Dagobah on those.”

“Cheapskate. This one probably cost the GDP of Bespin.”

“Given those canapes, I’m going to go with Cerea,” Gavin said. He grabbed some of the finger foods in question.

“Nice to know someone reads the economic outlook reports the budget office produces,” Kerry said.

“Not that you’d care about them anymore in your cush retirement job.”

“You try dealing with ten athletic directors some time,” Kerry remarked casually, “and tell me how you like it.”

“Point taken.”

The pair gazed upon the early festivities of the reception without saying anything for a few seconds.

“You know, I’d marry you, if you wanted,” Serling said. He said it as if he was proposing to get her a carton of blue milk from the grocery store.

Kerry didn’t respond immediately. “That’s lovely of you to say, but I could never marry another being.” She absentmindedly rubbed the wedding ring she still wore. “I appreciate it. For what it’s worth, if I was going to get married again, it’d be to you, Gavin.”

“So let’s recap: I could get married to you, probably divorce you after five or seven years based on my track record, or I could not get married to you and be with you indefinitely? Think we’re better off in the latter case,” the Senator said.

“Agreed,” Kerry replied.

---

“Admiral,” Enoch said, giving his aunt a salute.

“Enoch, for the love of the Force, this is a family wedding and neither of us is even in uniform,” Fiona said in exasperation. “Let’s drop the formality or I will discipline you when we get back to the Academy.”

“Sure, as you wish, Aunt Fiona,” Enoch said.

“I said loosen up,” Fiona said with a roll of her eyes. She reached behind the bar she was leaning against and grabbed a bottle and a couple of glasses. “And there’s one quick way to do that.” She poured for herself and her nephew. “Cheers, soldier. Not everyone can be in the Fleet.”

“And not everyone can be on the ground,” the future Marine said, clinking glasses.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Fiona said before she drank. “Actually, been meaning to see you at one of these to-dos. I didn’t want to say anything at the Academy because I know that it’s not a good thing for an ensign to get the notice of the Superintendent. Sends the wrong message, even when he’s not her nephew.”

“Thank you for that,” Enoch said. He wasn’t going to argue with her. He’d probably have his classmates looking at him askance for being “the Admiral’s nephew” and a Trieste to boot if she even looked in his direction. Heaven knows how the instructors would come down on him. At least not everyone realized it since Fiona had kept her married name, even if she was divorced now.

“What I want you to know is that I’m proud of you,” Fiona said, looking into his eyes. “The rest of this family talks about service, of being devoted to Bakura. The closest any of them come is your cousin Declan and then all he does is talk and vote. What will he put on the line? Nothing. The day he loses an election is the day that he starts some lucrative speaking career or gets asked to have cushy jobs on boards of directors. None of them understand what it means to be part of a greater good. Before he was a politician, he was a spy. He served the galaxy on darker front lines than we will see. He was proud of me for choosing the Academy and the life I did. He would have been proud of you for doing the same.”

Enoch said nothing, but looked into the bottom of his glass. “Thank you. They say Bakurans live a long time...so it’s always felt odd that none of us really knew our grandfather.”

“He was a man worth knowing,” Fiona said. “There’s one more thing. When I caught my husband cheating on me…” Fiona hesitated for half a second. In a woman of such steely reserve, it was moment that spoke volumes. “...it didn’t just end my career. It ended my childbearing days. As much as we’d like to think the Fleet runs on merit, it has its prejudices. Children born out of wedlock are not the mark of an office on her way up the ranks. I love Sierra and I’m happy for the life that lays before her. But I had always hoped that perhaps I’d pass on duty to homeworld to at least one of my children.

“In that, Enoch, I think of you as my son.” Fiona put a hand briefly on Enoch’s shoulder before removing it.

“Thank you,” he said. He had no other words. Even though he had a mother and a father who loved him now and always had, to be told by one of the heroes of Nouvelle Orleans that he was a son to her was something that overwhelmed his feelings.

“Now, you mentioned your grandfather,” Fiona said, clearly not looking to dwell on sentimental matters. “Let me tell you about him…”

---

“Congratulations, you two,” Octave Rivers warmly told the new couple. “Ginnifer, you were radiant. Rickard, you made her look good which is all that is expected of a groom on his wedding day.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rivers,” Rickard said.

“This was wonderful. Thank you so much,” Ginnifer said, throwing her arms around the merchant. She gave him a brief, but affectionate, peck on the cheek.

“Think nothing of it. If we don’t fete our own, what good are we as a company?” he replied, patting her on the back. “Now you two better have a long honeymoon planned. I don’t want to see you in here tomorrow. I’m sending you home if I do, you hear?”

“Of course not, Mr. Rivers,” Ginnifer said.

“Now go enjoy yourselves. Can’t spend your entire wedding standing around with an old man,” Rivers said, shooing them off.

As the happy couple greeted their other guests, he sighed. This, truly, was one of the things he loved the most about his job. The credits didn’t hurt, but moments like this, making a difference in the lives of his employees, was why he did it all.

 

Excellent wedding.

I loved this line:

“More from paying for two for my daughters,” Gavin said. “I think I spent the gross domestic product of Dagobah on those.”

 

Couldn't resist that one.

 

Splendid wedding! I'm curious to see what Enoch's future holds . And yay for Rickard and Ginny!

 

@jcgoble3 (especially him!) leiamoody Tim Battershell Vehn (who helped a bit with the last scene given his superior knowledge of that part of the galaxy)

Hapes

“Today, a daughter is born to us.”

Seven words. In fact, the only seven words that the royal family released to mark the event. What it lacked in verbosity it made up with impact. There were now two heirs to the throne, a line of succession. The imperial dynasty was secure. Bells were rung, headlines blared, programming interrupted, banners hung, and journalists gathered outside the hospital to see if they could catch a first glimpse of the newest princess. The being now second-in-line to the throne was, most curiously, 9/16 Hapan thanks to her Hapan father and Hapan maternal great-great grandmother. Already reporters were delving through the history books to see if any heir to the throne had ever had such a curious combination of bloodlines.

Though the celebrations outside were in full throat, only a precious few had seen this infant. They could be counted on two hands for most species. The attending medical staff had naturally been involved. The proud parents themselves, of course. The Queen Mother had come in her imperial majesty to gaze upon the continuation of her line. This child would soon be known to hundreds of millions, even billions, as the next in a long (if perhaps checkered) succession of royalty whose authority would span dozens of worlds. For the moment, however, she had her privacy and it was a moment that her mother was determined to enjoy, the fatigue of childbirth be damned.

Sierra held Corinne Westenra Trieste Iseult in her arms. She had a set of lungs on her, that was for sure. It took great bribery on Sierra’s part to quiet her firstborn daughter and was part of why she had this time alone with Corinne. “Clear indication you’re Hapan,” Sierra said, thinking about her daughter’s pipes. “You’ll learn what that means soon enough. I’m going to try to give you a normal life, but it’s going to be hard. You’re going to grow up with protectors on every side. You’ll probably know how to defend yourself from kidnapping before you know the alphabet. With good reason, no less. But if I do anything for you, it’s to make sure that you have some joy in your life. I will not let you be trapped here. I’ll destroy this Consortium if that’s what it takes. I promise you that.”

She kissed her daughter to seal that promise.

---

Salis D’aar, Bakura

“This is it,” Ayn said from the doorway. She held a datapad in her hand.

“Dear, you’re interrupting Vinnie Vornskr and Friends,” Declan said. He was sitting on a couch with both of their children watching the Holonet. “This is a particularly important moment as he’s trying to decide whether to go with Mike Mynock to the party or stay home and study with Dinah Diagnoa.”

Ayn squeezed the bridge of her nose with one hand. “Declan, if we show our kids this kind of thing they’re going to have jelly for brains.”

“Nonsense, I watched holotoons when I was growing up and look how I turned out.”

“Not helping,” Ayn said, walking away.

“I’ll be over when the episode’s done dear,” Declan called.

---

Sixteen and a half minutes later

“So, what do we have?” Declan asked, coming into the office he shared with his wife.

Ayn silently held up the datapad which he took. “I’ve spent the last ten minutes finding better things for our children to watch. Something with educational value. However, this is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“There was a very pertinent moral lesson about when to play and when to work in that episode of Vennie and Friends,” Declan pointed out as he began scanning the datapad’s contents.

“All well and good, but I don’t want our children sitting in front of the Holonet all day,” Ayn said.

“I’ll bring them to the next session of the Senate. I’m sure that won’t…” Declan stopped mid-thought as he began to process what he was looking at. When he finished he looked up at his wife. “This is high stakes.”

“Do we play for any other?”

“This bill is going to have the Prime Minister’s personal attention.”

“Anything that we did at this stage would. This is the one,” Ayn said confidently.

“It’s going to be hard to whip the votes on this without having too much stick to us,” Declan pointed out.

“Don’t worry, there’s a plan,” Ayn said with quiet confidence.

“There always is.”

---

Il Avili, Druckenwell

“Will you just look at that!” Corrie said as she threw open the curtains to look at the skyline of Druckenwell’s capital city. “I never thought I would have missed this view so much! The scrapers, the hum of industry--”

“The smog?” Quentin added. “Corrie--you can barely see through the haze.”

“Well, it’s really more in the distance than anything,” she pointed out.

“No, I think it just looks like it’s in the distance,” Quentin said. “I’m pretty sure it’s actually right here. I can feel my lungs clogging up already.”

“You’re exaggerating. Stop being ridiculous,” Corrie chastened her boyfriend. “You’ll barely notice it.”

“I’m going to bring a vibroknife out with me when we leave so I can show you that I can literally cut through the air.”

“Well what do you expect? Druckenwell’s fought two wars this century--or was it three? My point exactly. Their priorities have been elsewhere. The end of this last one has hit them hard. They formed the backbone of the Coalition and they surrendered. You know what that does to you? It breaks you. It happened on Bakura too, you know. The old Maple Flag counties that tried to break away in the Civil War. If it hadn’t been for your aunt’s Reconstruction policy--which, mind you, had its fair share of detractors all around--who knows where they’d be today. That’s part of why I’ve come back. Now that my father is leading the Federation, Druckenwell is going to have even less of his time.”

“So who’s in charge of the Initiative now?” Quentin asked.

“His wife.”

“You mean your mom.”

“Step-mother. Big difference.”

“Don’t like her that much, I see.”

“No, just never had a reason to feel any particular way about her,” Corrie admitted, “though she’s been more than open to the idea of me coming on with the Ypres Initiative.”

“Should be. It’s got your name on it,” Quentin pointed out.

“It’s got my father’s name on it. My family name. None of it belongs to me,” Corrie said, turning from the window and the vistas of corporate solidity that were the skyscrapers of corporate headquarters in the capital city. Unlike Bakura, here corporate power was very clearly linked with government power. “My mother’s suggested that I start off in our research and development arm. We do a lot of work with BlasTech--”

“Wait, weapons research?” Quentin said, stopping his girlfriend short. “It wasn’t so long ago you were in war zones helping people who’d been made homeless by war, let alone orphaned or widowed by it. You want to get involved with making things that are going to perpetuate that cycle?”

“Not really, but I’ve been a prodigal daughter,” Corrie sighed. “I’m not really in a position to make demands. The truth is that my heart is in manufacturing--making things. Bakura’s primarily a service economy, but beings still need things to be produced for them. We’re always coming up with things that will make folks lives better.”

“But you’re talking about coming up with things that will make their lives deader,” Quentin pointed out.

“It’s not my first choice, but it’s one of Druckenwell’s strongest manufacturing sectors. You have no idea how prestigious a posting there would be,” Corrie said.

“I thought you wanted to come here to make things better,” Quentin said, “not go back to what got Druckenwell into trouble in the first place. The funny thing about weapons is that when you make them, somebody finds a use for them.” He started walking towards the door of the hotel room.

“Quentin, where are you going?” Corrie called after him.

“To get a breath of fresh air--assuming you can find one on this planet,” Quentin grumbled.

As the door slid shut behind him, Corrie sat down on the bed with a sigh. “Well, this is going just splendidly.”

 

Yay! The line of succession continues!

And looks like things are about to move and shake even more in the Senate.

 

This was all one great big plot for me to entice you into doing a Tendra post in ELL now that Ivgenni has been jumped in the line of succession by his younger sister. I seem to recall Tendra might have some feelings about such things.

 

She does, but I've forgotten exactly what they are. I'll have to research that.

 

More Noble House updates!!!!!


Please?

Sent from a Galaxy far away via my comlink

 

Looking pretty good my man. Corrie might just turn the Initiative on its head.

 

Well now that you've asked, how can I do otherwise?

She may indeed! We'll just have to see how she gets along in a place like Druckenwell.

 

Double posted by accident.

 

@jcgoble3 leiamoody Tim Battershell Vehn



Westcott, Bakura

After three years of preparation, the time had come for the first day of a new diversion for Bakura. The beings who came to the small beachfront town of Westcott, Bakura outside of Cape Suzette were not exactly sure what to expect. It was only natural—few of them had barely heard of the creatures that were the subject of the day’s frivolities. A smashing good time had been promised and if that was to be the case the curiosity of the event was somewhat charming.

It was under such circumstances that the gathering of beings took place at Westcott Racetrack.

“Quite a do you have here, Fae,” Siona said appreciatively as she took in the sumptuous surroundings of the private box that the Noble House had leased. Understandably, they had been given the pick of boxes for the season. It was only natural seeing as Falene had been one of the primary drivers (and financiers) in establishing the race course.

“I should expect that it would be nice,” Ronan commented. “After all, we’ve put enough credits into this place…”

“Though we have grandstands that cater to beings of all incomes, we expect we’ll make quite a bit on each season’s boxes, obviously for a higher bracket of racegoers,” Falene explained. “Thanks to the deal that we have with The Rivers, in large part thanks to Ginny, we’ll have the finest provisions on hand to supply these guests.”

“Oh yes,” Ginnifer said, recently returned from her honeymoon. “The opportunity to supply the races with all sorts of consumables could make our year. If this goes over like Falene says it will, just saying that we provision Westcott Racetrack will be a real feather in our cap.”

“You’ve certainly gone out of your way to bring in an elite attendance,” Ayn observed. “Coming up here Declan and I ran into at least 20 of our colleagues.”

“Made me a bit nervous, actually. I see that many of my fellow Senators in one place and I assume there’s a vote about to occur imminently,” Declan quipped.

“Hadn’t you said that you were thinking of putting this in Prytis?” Cillian asked. He’d made it a point to schedule a stop on world to attend since Falene had invited Swann and him. He had just wandered into the small lounge where everyone was currently congregating after having inspected the dining room that was through a doorway.

“We had,” Falene said, “and while that would have put it close to the estates of the upper class, we still wanted the track to be accessible by everyone. Cape Suzette’s mild climate also made it a better choice. Rain isn’t good for racing.”

“So I know there are the horse things involved, but exactly what is the point of all this hoopla?” Regan Eldred asked.

“The track offers a cash prize to the owner of the horse that wins each race,” Falene explained, “Anyone can bet on the outcome of a race.”

“There’s betting involved?” Antrose said, suddenly perking up.

“You can make several different kinds of bets,” Falene explained. “You can bet on who will win, or if a horse will come in first or second, but that pays out less. It’s even less if you bet if the horse will come in first, second, or third. However, if you think you can pick the first two horses to finish, that’ll pay out more than any of those bets. And then you can try to pick the top three horses in a race. There are even bets that span multiple races.”

“Sounds terribly complicated,” Kerry said.

“Oh, and running the Republic wasn’t?” Fiona said with a smirk. “Just what I needed—another vice in proximity to my ensigns.”

“I’ll still pass,” Kerry said.

“But betting is half the fun of coming! It makes watching so much more interesting. In the boxes there are even private betting terminals,” Falene said, pointing to the one in theirs.

“Fantastic,” Swann said, moving over to one. She put in some credits, punched a few buttons rapidly, and then out spat a ticket.

“What did you just do?” Cillian asked.

“Box exacta, two and five,” Swann explained.

“Okay love, you just said a bunch of words that didn’t make any sense at all,” Cillian said.

“Guys guys guys!” Horst Penn said, bursting into the box. “Have any of you seen the horses? They’ve got them down in the circle-thingy-place—“

“The paddock,” Trixie explained.

“They’re so cute! I’m totally going to buy one. Falene, how much does a horse cost?” Horst asked.

“A thoroughbred horse like the ones that’ll race today…about 25,000 credits,” Falene said.

“See, we could totally afford that honey!” Horst said.

“A year,” Falene finished, “to start anyways.”

Her mother nearly choked on her drink. She had to put it down before she said, “Excuse me?”

“It depends on your trainer costs, the initial price of the horse, stabling, feed…” Falene listed.

“That’s a pretty expensive investment,” Atticus said.

“Tell me about it,” Falene said, “The Noble House has half a dozen that we’ll be racing this season at Westcott. If they do well I might send them to other courses.”

There was a sudden fanfare of horns that got everyone’s attention.

“That means we’ll be beginning shortly,” Falene said. “If you’ll all come out to the balcony, there’s a seat for everyone there.”

---

“Annnnnd they’re off,” the public address announcer and race caller said.

“We need someone to tell us what’s going on? Lousy sport if you ask me,” Trixie complained.

“I don’t know, they’re all bunched up—I can’t tell who’s where,” Ginny said.

“Or who’s who,” Henrietta said.

“Three leading five,” Swann said, tracking the action through macrobinoculars.

“So that’s why you insisted on bringing those,” Cillian said.

“We’ve been racing horses in the Consortium for decades,” Swann said. “You bring in some Hapan horses and they’re going to clean up.”

“Falene, how much does a Hapan horse cost?” Horst asked.

“We’re not getting one!” Trixie said sternly. “I’m sure Falene will let you pet hers sometimes.”

“So, Falene, how many credits would you say were bet on this race?” Ronan asked.

“First race of the day, not an overly large purse…” Falene said, calculating in her head.

“Two’s moving on the outside,” Swann said. There was a murmur rising in the stands as the horses started to pound their way towards the final turn.

“I’d say the handle is probably about a million credits,” Falene hazarded. “Some of that will be paid out again, but a lot of that’s going to stay with the track.”

“Take into account the partnership split, after operating costs and loan payoff…this place might just pay for itself sooner than anticipated…” Ronan mused appreciatively, running the numbers as ever.

“And we’re into the final turn…” the announcer said as the energy in the crowd grew.

“Come on two and five, two and five,” Swann said as she watched the front of the pack.

“Oh now this is interesting,” Mandy said, leaning in as the horses approached. Indeed, everyone seemed to be leaning forward in anticipation of the finish.

“Two and five, two and five!” Swann called out, louder.

“Go go go!” Ginnifer shouted, getting swept up in the moment.

“Frak!” Swann shouted. “What’s four doing sneaking in for the second place! Garh!”

“Ah well it was close,” Cillian said.

“I do believe that you might be onto something here,” Kerry told her daughter.

“That was just the first race of the day. Just wait for the Union Westcott races at the end of the season. Those are going to be even bigger,” Falene promised, “Trust me—this is only the beginning.”