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

@AzureAngel22 jcgoble3 leiamoody Tim Battershell Vehn

Senate Building, Salis D’aar, Bakura

Part of being a whip was having your ear to the ground. To whip votes you had to know what your colleagues were thinking and to know what they were thinking you needed information about what was going on. It was a form of detective work. You had to know how a recent event would affect someone’s vote or make them susceptible to change their vote—in your favor or against.

With 79 senators to consider it could be a lot of work to keep everything straight. A good whip could keep track of her party’s senators. A great whip could keep track of all senators and know when she could pick off the opposing party.

Today was the culmination of what could only be called master-level parliamentary skill.

One of the most famous traditions of the Bakuran Senate was Questions to the Prime Minister, where the executive branch came before the legislative to field inquiries from the senators about the government’s policies and legislative agenda. It was an outgrowth of a time when the Senate had directly elected the Prime Minister, usually from its number, and the level of accountability from the executive to the legislative was high. Though the voters now elected the Prime Minister, the tradition had continued. For those that loved the political arena, Prime Minister’s Questions was required viewing. They had been the home to some of the great moments in Bakuran political history.

Who got to ask questions was governed by a strict hierarchy based on traditions, party loyalty, and more. Questions from the Prime Minister’s own party were often friendly, less pointed, and generally designed to allow the PM to look good. Today’s final question would come from the friendly Union Party.

“Senator Hellemand,” the Deputy PM indicated.

Ayn turned in her chair, ostensibly to look at the senator, but in reality she was looking out the corner of her eye at her husband. This was the moment.

“This year, the government will engage in negotiations with the government employee unions that represent the overwhelming majority of the workers in the federal government. Will the Prime Minister share her position on these negotiations, especially in light of salary requests made by the unions?”

“My ministry has reviewed the requests—nay I say demands—of the unions. The mandatory salary increases that they have put forth in their proposal are not only unrealistic, they have been made in bad faith. The arrogance demonstrated by the public employee unions in these demands stem directly from their belief that they are essential to the continued existence of Bakura. In effect, they seek to hold the government hostage. There comes a time when you draw a line and you do not cross it. This is one of those times.”

Ayn could feel her fellow Fianna Fail senators beginning to bristle.

“The government unions have no right to hold a blaster to the head of the Bakuran people. I am therefore serving notice to the government unions that my ministry will not acceded to their requests. I will not submit their proposed new contracts to the Senate and I will veto their exorbitant salary increases if passed by this body. The unions have a choice: be on Bakura’s side and agree to the new contract that the government’s negotiators have proposed or see your contract expire.”

The entire Senate looked up at the Deputy PM to see if he would extend the question time. The Unionists had clearly tried to drop this bombshell at the end so Fianna Fail could not probe the Prime Minister further. Extending question time, however, was almost never done. It would send a huge statement if the Deputy PM did so.

“That concludes Questions for the Prime Minister,” the Deputy PM said and the Prime Minister stepped down and headed out of the Senate by passing in front of the Unionist senators. As he left, the murmurs broke into outright conversation about the PM throwing down the gauntlet in front of the entire Senate.

Ayn could already feel the press of her colleagues around her.

“This is a declaration of war.”

“How dare he?”

“Playing politics with operations of the government. Despicable.”

“Please, please,” Ayn said, making her way through them. “Say nothing to the media now. We will regroup in caucus soon. Discipline, everyone, discipline.”

Fifteen minutes later Ayn was walking through the lobby of her office. “Clear the schedule,” Ayn told her chief of staff. “I am not to be disturbed.”

She didn’t wait for the affirmative response, but closed the door to her private office and locked it behind her. She was not alone.

“That went well.”

“Yes it did. And you know what needs to be done now,” Ayn said.

“Absolutely,” Declan replied as he began undoing her blouse. “Celebration is in order.”

What political commentators would remark on in the coming days had occurred to Ayn and Declan long ago. The public unions were a major source of campaign contributions to Fianna Fail. The Prime Minister had tried to bolster his base through the campaign finance bill raising limits on contributions that corporations could take advantage of. That had failed. If the corporations couldn’t be strengthened, then the only other alternative was to weaken the unions.

The Prime Minister had just done what Ayn and Declan had wanted him to do. His action began what would certainly be the most critical period of their political careers.

Today was a good day for the Senators Trieste.

 

Don't they just love it when a plan comes together!

 

You bet, Hannibal.

 

The chess match of the Triestes versus the Bakuran Senate continues masterfully. Er, make that the dejarik game. Speaking of which, I sense that another piece is about to be moved on that table in their office or apartment or wherever it is.

 

AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 leiamoody Tim Battershell Vehn The accompanying music says it all...



Salis D’aar, Bakura

Declan Trieste watched the HoloNet, rocking side to side slightly on his feet, the knuckles of one fist balled against his chin with anxiety. It was an improvement from a few minutes ago. He’d been pacing the carpet of his Senate office not too long ago, crossing in and out of the light from the long windows. That had been before things had begun, when he’d gotten word that the address was imminent. Declan had called Ayn to let her know. She had said she would come down. Though her office was much nicer and larger as Minority Whip, there were benefits to being hidden in the lesser traveled hallways where Declan had been assigned.

“Come on, just get to it,” Declan said to himself.

It was shortly after this that he heard his door slide open. His secretary knew that only one being got to come in unannounced.

“Have they announced yet?” Ayn asked, the door closing at the punctuation of her sentence.

“Not yet,” Declan said.

Ayn took Declan’s free hand in hers. “They will. What are your choices when someone puts a blaster to your head?”

“You take the blaster. It’s a long range weapon that shouldn’t be used at short range,” Declan said. “Or you pull out a bigger blaster. Or you do 146 other things.”

“Greater beings, perhaps. Smarter beings,” Ayn said, looking at her husband with significance. “But most are too afraid of the blaster to think straight.”

“...unprecedented in the history of modern Bakuran labor relations,” the voice on the HoloNet said.

“Shhhh,” Declan hushed, indicating the holoprojector with his chin, still intense.

“The Prime Minister is attempting to impose a radical, conservative agenda on Bakura through her demands. Government employees are the bedrock of civil society and she threatens that with a proposal--dare we even call it that--which would irreparably harm the beings who get things done. Everyone from park rangers to safety inspectors to peace officers would be affected. These beings put their very lives on the line for the dream of Bakura--to work hard and do well, have a good life, and leave things just a bit better than they found it,” the president of the largest government employee union said, the executive residence at Marian Square in the distance. “The Prime Minister has effectively said that these beings don’t matter. What she forgets is what everyone on Bakura knows: we are stronger together. That is why the Public Sector Workers of Bakura stand together today to say this to the Prime Minister: we are here to negotiate.”

“No,” Declan breathed. Ayn squeezed his hand, signaling him to wait.

“But we will never come to the table when the Prime Minister sits there in bad faith and proposes terms so unacceptable that ordinary Bakurans revolt at them. If the Prime Minister persists in pushing her radical agenda designed to undermine the middle class, then we will take our stand here.

“If the Prime Minister does not bring a new proposal to the table, one that acknowledges the worth of government employees and rewards them appropriately, then the PSWB and its affiliated unions will strike.”

In the privacy of his office, Declan allowed himself the smallest of celebratory fist clenches and pumps. “Yes,” he celebrated. “I’ll make the call.”

“What were you saying about options when a blaster is pointed in your face?” Ayn asked wryly.

“Give me credit for listening to you for a change,” Declan said with a smirk.

Ayn turned back to the holoprojector. Things were going to start happening very fast now…

---

Prytis, Bakura

“...and before you know it we’ll be there,” Kalrai Esnod, the Ithorian pilot, concluded.

Falene Trieste was sitting next to Mugrog Uepu, the Zabrak scientist, in the lounge of the Explorers Club. Ever since Yuletide Falene had been itching for another expedition. She’d asked Kalrai to start putting one together with Mugrog as soon as possible. As soon as the 282 Elite League Limmie season was over she wanted to be headed to points unknown. Kalrai had just finished his presentation on his proposed destination.

The human pushed herself out of the nerf hide chair she’d been in for the last twenty minutes to approach the holoprojector and the blinking point out beyond Bakura and known space. It was well away from the first planet that they’d visited.

“It’s going to take ten different hyperspace jumps?” Falene asked as she leaned into the projection to look at the system.

“At least. I might want to do twelve to be safe,” Kalrai said.

“But blazing new hyperspace lanes was one of the things I wanted the Club to do. It has a direct positive impact on commerce,” Falene said. “It’ll attract more attention for exploration and pushing the boundaries of our knowledge of the galaxy if we can demonstrate practical application.”

“We shouldn’t shackle ourselves to that,” Mugrog interjected. “Undirected research and exploration is its own reward.”

“Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t turn a blind eye to tangible rewards when we find them.”

“It’s still a hyperspace lane to nowhere,” Falene said.

“No, it’s a hyperspace lane to here,” Falene said, stabbing into the projection, “and who knows what we’re going to find there.”

 

Things are moving and shaking on Bakura as much as they ever have been. Between Ayn and Declan manipulating the Senate, and a sports star talking about taking on the dangerous task of blazing new hyperspace lanes into the Unknown Regions, things are really getting interesting. I have a feeling this new planet won't be as simple as the last one they visited.

 

If I didn't have my next musical accompaniment planned for the following post, you would have inspired the next one! Glad that you're still enjoying the ride.

 

Rakata Prime, perhaps?

 

Now that would be an adventure!

 

And all the while I'm reading this wondering where is this good writer taking us, the audience?

Who cares! It's a great read!

 

AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 leiamoody Tim Battershell Vehn After the day I had, I wish this was me.

Salis D’aar, Bakura



It was zero hour.

Gauntlets had been thrown, rhetoric escalated, and the media had feverishly reported on the prospect of a government workers’ strike. The pronouncements and headlines had been grave.

“PM: ‘WE WILL NOT BE HELD HOSTAGE’”

“UNIONS VOW NO EMPTY THREAT”

“GOVERNMENT AND UNIONS NO CLOSER TO AGREEMENT”

“GOVERNMENT SHUTDOWN LOOMS”

Whatever you wanted to say about the unions, right or wrong, they had an impeccable sense of theater. The strike did not begin at the end of a day or the beginning of a day. The staff at federal government agencies all came in to work as if it was any other day. Under strict instruction from their chapter leaders, they went about their business with their usual effort.

Then, midway through their morning, they stood up from their desks, put down their tools, left their meetings, and otherwise stopped all business. They walked into the hallways of hundreds of government buildings across Bakura, neatly, orderly, quietly, and respectfully.

At the most prominent symbols of the federal union, the media was there to record their exit and the beginning of the strike. Bakura watched as cargo inspectors left the great commercial spaceport at Gesco City. They watched as tradesmen left BakurStar cruisers halfdone at the Atalanta spaceyards. They watched as clerks left the Supreme Court and all business stopped. They watched as groundskeepers and chefs walked away from the Prime Minister’s residence at Marian Square.

And as they watched the myriad workers leave the Bakuran Senate Building, they saw Declan Trieste at their head. It was no accident that he stood among their number—or that the number of reporters and holocameras waiting to greet him and the strikers were great.

“I am not in a union and never have been, but that does not mean that I don’t understand how integral unions are to Bakura. They have been one of the greatest engines of prosperity for Bakura’s middle class. They stand for a good wage for honest work.

“But I am not on strike. I will be in the Senate every day striving to end this strike so we can all get back to the real work of achieving the bright future that every Bakuran wants to see. Though I will stand on the Senate, I will stand with the unions. Your fight is my fight. It is Bakura’s fight.”

Senator Trieste received the cheers of the strikers behind him. The strike was on.

 

I fear that strike will come to a very bloody end.

 

AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 leiamoody Tim Battershell Vehn

The Plaza, Salis D’aar, Bakura

Declan rolled the holodice and wait for a second and a half to see how they landed. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” he counted, moving his piece with each number. “Oh, now look at that.” His piece slid back to the level below and further from the goal, all thanks to the instructions on the space on which he had just landed on.

“Bad luck for Dad,” Ayn said. “Your turn, Shenandoah.”

The five year old girl rolled the holodice and watched as they clattered across the board.

“All right, how many is that?” Ayn asked. “Let’s count together.” The two repeated in unison: “One, two, three, four, five, six seven, eight, nine.” Shenandoah moved her piece and when it came to rest, it got to shoot up a row thanks to the instructions on that space.

“Not fair,” Niall Fionn groused. “She always lands on a liftube.”

“Redheads are born under lucky stars,” Declan comforted his son. “Now, dark haired people like you, me, Mom—we earn what we get without shortcuts.”

“I earn things too!” Shenandoah protested. “Besides, we’re twins. We were both born under the same stars.”

“We all must make the most of our opportunities, including making them if needs be,” Ayn told her children. “Sometimes you have bad luck, sometimes good luck. No matter what, all of us in this family, we have a responsibility to do our best.”

“And the winner of this game may be last in the next one,” Declan pointed out. “That’s how it goes.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re last right now, Daddy,” Shenandoah giggled.

“Ah, but how else will I pull off the greatest comeback in Noble House board game history without being last at some point?” Declan proclaimed.

“Forgive me,” one of the Plaza’s droids intoned, “but there are visitors in the library.”

“Darlings, I think this would be a good time for a snack. Go with J9. We’ll be back in a moment,” Ayn said.

“And nobody move any pieces. I remember exactly what the board looks like right now,” Declan warned.

The Senators walked through the grand but still halls of the sixth floor of the Plaza. The building had yet to feel like home. Having the entire floor at their disposal was part of the reason—they just didn’t know what to do with so much space after their apartment. Then again, it was nice to have a library to receive their visitors in.

Declan opened the door and greeted their guests. “I trust no one saw you enter?”

“I don’t even know how we got here, so there’s no way anyone else could know we’re here,” the leader of the Public Sector Workers of Bakura said. He was joined by the other senior leaders, making five in all.

“My grandfather was, among many things, a spy. When he built the Plaza, he brought some of his tradecraft to the plans for the building,” Declan said, indicating for everyone to sit.

“And he was a friend to labor as well,” Ayn continued, “a tradition we are proud to uphold.”

“All of us appreciate your public support for the union, and we appreciate this meeting. We knew this would be a hard fight, what with the Prime Minister’s stance, but the administration hasn’t even met with us yet,” one of the leaders said. “Three weeks in and they’re not even trying to negotiate.”

“Just more hardball,” another said

“The PM needs a win badly, what with the way things have gone in the Senate and an election next year, but I am surprised she’s been this stubborn,” Ayn said. Actually, she wasn’t surprised in the slightest, but she wasn’t going to tell the union leaders that.

“I thought for sure she’d at least try to negotiate as a tactic, prove she’s reasonable,” Declan said. Actually, he had been relatively sure that the union striking would just put the Prime Minister’s back up even straighter and he hadn’t been wrong.

“It’s given us the moral high ground at least,” the PSW president said. “Eventually public opinion will turn the tide in our favor.”

“However, some of us are concerned that might take too long, which is why we’re here today,” one of the vice presidents said. “We’ve been paying our members out of our strike fund, which coming in was pretty healthy. It’s still got plenty in it, but it won’t last forever.”

“Not to mention the longer the government is shut down, the more likely the administration will try to find some event that will make the union look bad for not being at work, failing to provide services. They’ll probably look at public safety or something like that,” Ayn said.

“You understand the situation completely,” the union president said with obvious relief. “Truth is, if this strike is over tomorrow, no one will be happier than us.”

“You need something to pressure the Prime Minister into returning to the bargaining table, then,” Declan said, a question nestled in a statement.

“Yes. We thought if the Senate passed the new contract that would change the debate.”

“A contract the Prime Minister has already vowed to veto. It’ll go nowhere,” Ayn sighed. “It might even enflame things.”

“I agree,” Declan said. “It’s too bad that the optics favor the union so much right now. If they didn’t…” He paused and then waved a hand to dismiss the thought.

“What are you thinking of?” one of the union leaders asked with curiosity.

“It’s a long shot. Not only that, it could backfire completely…” Declan paused. “…but it will definitely change the conversation instantly. The chances are that it will force the PM so she won’t have any choice but to negotiate. But even so, I can’t recommend it.”

“Tell us anyway.”

---

Ayn and Declan watched the BBC the next day from her office. The union leaders now stood before Marian Square for their latest press conference. It was a direct challenge to the occupant of the executive residence.

“You sold it perfectly,” Ayn complimented her husband. “Just enough hesitation…even a pause for effect. They don’t do it better in the vids.”

“You can lead an eopie to water, but you can’t make it drink,” Declan said modestly.

“Hardly. By the time they left, they probably thought it was their own idea,” Ayn said.

“It doesn’t matter whose idea they think it was. Just that they do it.”

“…has refused to negotiate at every turn. We want this strike to be over, but we won’t cave in to the egregious demands of the Prime Minister and beggar our members to do it. It seems that the Prime Minister doesn’t feel that this issue is important enough for her to take action on. She doesn’t think that the rights of workers are serious enough for her to spend time on them.

“This is indicative of a broader contempt for the contributions of labor to Bakura. This is unacceptable in our chief executive and we now realize this is an issue that is not just limited to public employees. This is an issue for all labor.

“That is why we, the Public Sector Workers of Bakura, hereby call upon our brothers and sisters in unions across Bakura to join us in a general strike to show the Prime Minister just what a contribution we all make to this planet and its prosperity.”

Ayn turned the holoprojector off. “What was that you were saying about being born under a lucky star?” she asked her husband.

“I think what you meant to say was, ‘What was it I was saying about making our own luck?’”

“Indeed. Now, don’t squander it.”

“Never,” Declan promised.

 

How manipulative, and typical for these two. They are model politicians... although that is not necessarily a compliment to them. But you write them so well.

 

I do love this power couple. The way they scheme and balance one another. In a way they are the same and in so many ways they are different just like a team. Curious to see what comes of their power plays. Will luck continue for them or will their luck run out?

 

It is safe to say that Ayn and Declan definitely deserve each other. The question is whether Bakura deserves them...or perhaps vice versa.

 

I bet they cannot trust their own face in the mirror at times.

 

That line is so good I just might have to use it.

 

AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 leiamoody Tim Battershell Vehn and Bardan_Jusik always likes to know about Mandalorian things

Wild Space

Even though three of the four occupants of the Wanderer had already seen a new planet once before in their lives, that didn’t mean they didn’t want to see this new planet. Even more curious than them was their fourth, a new addition to the Adventurers Club expedition.

“Did it change you?” Haylee Kelt the Mandalorian asked. She had her helmet off, stowed elsewhere in the ship. Falene took at a sign that she wasn’t all Mandalorian: she still wanted to see this without a visor between her eyes and the sight. “Seeing a new world that no one else had ever seen?”

“It’s a world like any other,” Murgog Uepu said. “It’s no different than seeing Corellia for the first time...but…”

“But it’s totally different,” Kalrai Esnod finished. “Knowing that you’re the first sentient beings, at least from the galaxy as we know it, to lay eyes on a world? It thrills the heart.”

“It makes you feel alive,” Falene confirmed.

“I read the report of your first voyage. Purple skies? Crazy stuff,” Kelt said. The moment for reversion of hyperspace was coming and the small talk was feeling even smaller than usual. “Know what we’re going to find here?”

“We’ve done some spectrometry,” Mugrog said. “This should be a pretty standard blend of nitrogen and oxygen. Totally breathable.”

“I get that it’s cool to see a planet for the first time,” Kelt said, “but to breathe a planet? That’s awesome.”

“Well, here we go,” Kalrai said, throttling back the hyperspace drive.

The ship reverted to realspace and there it was before them. The random numbers and letters assigned to the world were irrelevant at this moment. It was a glistening green jewel, oceans separating continents of great size.

“Kandosii!” Kelt exclaimed, leaning forward. “It is beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Falene said.

“This time there should be blue skies down there too,” Mugrog said.

“Let’s find out…” Kalrai said, easing the ship down to the surface.

Falene watched appreciatively as the craft got nearer and near to the surface, the world taking up more and more of the viewport.

“Now I know why you do this,” Kelt said to Falene. “This feeling...it is…there are no words.”

“I know,” Falene assured her.

“Everybody, hold up!” Mugrog exclaimed.

Kalrai pulled back on the controls automatically, taking them out of their approach. “What is it?” he asked.

“I’m getting the damnedest readings…” Mugrog said, his eyes flitting across the scanner console. “If I didn’t know any better…”

“What?” Kelt asked.

“I’d say someone was down there,” Mugrog said looking up.

“Indigenous life?” Falene asked. The prospect was exciting--if perhaps dangerous. Who knew what bacteria might be down there and what it would do to their immune systems?

But their scanners weren’t going to pick up germs. It would, however, pick up sentient beings.

“Maybe, maybe not, but I’m getting tech down there,” the Zabrak said.

“Tech?” Kalrai echoed.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not up to par with what we see in the known galaxy, but it’s putting out signs our scanners can recognize. I see clusters of it here and there. I mean, this is consistent with settlements!” Mugrog said, getting more and more excited. “We might have stumbled across parallel societal development!”

“At least I’ll be the one with the newer blaster,” Kelt said, unconsciously (or perhaps very consciously) putting one hand on her sidearm.

“We are not shooting anyone,” Falene said. “We are here to observe and learn, not colonize.”

“Colonize? I’m talking about survival if it comes to it,” Kelt said.

“So, hey, decision point--are we going to put down anywhere or make for the maybe-settlement?” Kalrai asked.

“We go for the settlement, absolutely,” Falene said.

“You got it, boss,” the Ithorian said and resumed their descent.

“Do we know anymore about what’s down there, what to expect?” Falene asked, standing next to Mugrog.

“Maybe give me more than 45 seconds to take a look at the data?” Mugrog said. “This is overwhelming. I thought we were just going to find new fauna, but tech...that’s…”

Suddenly the starship lurched downward. Falene fell forward, bracing herself against the biologist’s chair. Kelt somehow braced herself against a console. “What’s going on?”

“Sublight engines fading!” Kalrai said. The large hands of the Ithorian gripped the controls as he battled them for control. “Everything was fine until it wasn’t!”

“That’s helpful analysis!” Kelt shouted back. “How much power do you have?”

“Not much! I’ve got to put this down while I still have energy to get us to the ground!”

“Mugrog, how far are we from the settlement?” Falene asked.

“Under 50 kilometers and closing fast!”

“Can you make it there?” Falene asked.

“I’m not sure we’re going to have much choice in where we put down! The forest is pretty thick and I’m having to shed altitude and cut back speed!”

“Get us as close as--”

There was a sudden impact and Falene was flung across the cabin. It was the last thing she remembered.

 

Uh-oh! Good thing the players are on strike from the limmie team, so if she misses the start of the season while stranded, she won't get yelled at by Aunt Regan.

 

You mean that it's a good thing there's a Mando there to keep her safe.

 

That too.

 

Wonder if they play anything resembling Limmie?

 

Maybe they'll be the newest acquisitions of the Noble House?

 

I love the speculation going on!