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

@AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 Tim Battershell Vehn



Salis D’aar, Bakura

There’s no money.

Those three words were causing panic in the offices of every Fianna Fail politician across the Bakura, especially in the halls of the Senate. It was 284 and that meant the federal election cycle in addition to elections in several counties. The Prime Minister would stand for re-election this year and all 80 Senators would have their terms end. The Unionists had Marian Square and the Prime Ministry; they wanted the Senate too. Fianna Fail had the Senate; they wanted Marian Square too. It was going to be a hotly contested election.

But there was no money.

It wasn’t just the words themselves--it was who had apparently said them that was causing concern. The Fianna Fail Finance Committee (the Triple-F-C, as it was known) had begun beating the bushes and shaking the trees to make the credits rain and finance their attempt at recapturing the executive. Though Bakura operated under relatively strict campaign finance laws, the role of major contributions was still prominent. For a federal election year the Triple-F-C had their heavy hitters, the donors who could contribute across the board to all their candidates, plus their own fund to pour credits into races across the planet. They targeted races that were especially tight or important from their reserve.

And there was no money.

That was what the unions were telling the Fianna Fail Finance Committee. They had spent and spent and spent for the months-long general strike to keep their members’ pay coming and to keep their resolve strong. Their political contribution coffers had been depleted. They made apologies, but they were adamant about the fact of the matter: there was nothing.

A pall had fallen in every Fianna Fail Senate office on receiving the news. Words had been shouted into holoprojectors and comms. Items had been thrown. The unions were some of the biggest political supporters of the party. For their money to disappear was a huge disadvantage going into the election. This was a disaster of unparalleled magnitude.

However, all was calm in the office of Senator Declan Trieste. His door was closed and locked as he and his wife made a call to the president of the United Repulsor Workers, the URW. Doubtless it was one of many calls she was receiving today as the news spread.

“Senators, I’ll cut right to the chase. The strike hurt our financial standing hard. We depleted our strike pay accounts. We went into our political contribution funds,” the URW president said. “We cut executive pay. We came this close to having to borrow from the pension fund. All of the other unions had to do the same. This strike hurt us a lot. We still believe in what you’re doing, but we can’t contribute this cycle. We just can’t. Don’t think that this doesn’t mean that we’re not grateful. We are. We know you went to bat for the PSW, for unions across Bakura. What you did was one of the biggest steps forward for labor in years. I promise you, on behalf of all the unions, we will repay you one day.”

“We know,” Declan said without the slightest antagonism. In fact, he sounded downright understanding.

“You put yourselves on the line by sticking with the strike, even though political movement was slow,” Ayn said.

“But that’s the wrong answer,” Declan said politely.

“Right or wrong, it’s the reality,” the UWR president insisted.

“No, the reality is that without us you would have never gotten the deal you got,” Ayn said without malice. “This is a fact.”

“And as much as you put yourselves on the line, we put ourselves out front and center at the battle lines. We staked our political careers on this strike,” Declan continued, “and that kind of loyalty must be repaid in kind.”

“And it is not cheap,” Ayn added.

“But--”

“There’s no money,” Ayn finished. “Yes. We understand. That’s why you’re only going to make the usual contributions to Declan’s campaign.”

“We don’t really care where the credits come from. Friends in the Farmer’s Alliance. Civil rights groups. Environmentalists. We know you and the rest of your union associates have strong connections across the progressive spectrum,” Declan said. “As long as they give generously in your stead, we will consider ourselves even.”

“For now, that is,” Ayn said. “We will expect absolute loyalty in every future election cycle.”

“Fianna Fail will always have our support,” the union president assured them.

“No, not to the party. Loyalty to us,” Declan said, leaning forward.

“And if we could get you your union contract when the Prime Minister was dead set against us, do you want to have us as an enemy?” Ayn asked. The threat was more than implied.

All was quiet for a moment.

“I think we all understand each other now, don’t we?” Declan said amiably. “Good day.”

He ended the holoconference.

“You sure you don’t want any money for your campaign?” Declan asked his wife.

“The liberals of Cape Suzette give generously and as Whip I can make sure the Triple F C sends what I need my way,” Ayn said. “You’re going to need it a lot more to hold Telaan Valley. I’ll save our chits for when we need them. Now we enter the waiting game as we let things play out.”

There was a knock on the door. Declan unlocked it remotely from his desk. One of his aides opened the door. “This just arrived for you, Senator. Another one apparently came for you at your office, Senator.” The second sentence was directed to Ayn.

It was a small flimsi envelope. Declan opened it once the aide departed.

Your Taoiseach requests your presence at Kilmainham Brook, it read.

The husband and wife looked at each other.

“Falene is back,” Ayn said.

“And she has something to say to us,” Declan said.

“To us, or to us all?” Ayn wondered.

It took only a few calls to a selection of their aunts, uncles, and cousins to learn that similar notes had been received throughout Salis D’aar, in Gesco City, in Cape Suzette, in Nouvelle Orleans, on Druckenwell, on Hapes, and on Roon.

The Noble House of Trieste had been summoned.

 

Wow. A lot of things happening here. Fianna Fail losing one of its usual contribution streams, Ayn and Declan playing hardball again, and now Falene's expedition is back and probably brought the Kurtzen with them. And I'm interested to know how they got off of Kitokaime.

Keep 'em coming!

 

To do otherwise would be a cruelty!

 

I actually wonder when my own government will tell us something familiar. The nice thing about your fanfic is: it is more than SF. It reflects real life issues and so a galaxy far far away feels close to home.

 

I always love it when the Noble House convenes

 

Why thank you! That's actually what I'm trying for here. When people ask me what I write, I say, "Space fantasy political fiction, or, more simply put 'The West Wing' meets 'Star Wars.'" Glad that's the effect I'm achieving!

 

@AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 Tim Battershell Vehn Buckle up and grab your family tree. Things are about to get busy!



Kilmainham Brook, Prytis, Bakura

Declan and Ayn helped their six year old twins out of the private speeder that had fetched them from the monorail station. Though they could have chartered a private shuttle from the capital, Prytis was close enough to make rail transit practical. It also made for good press to take public transport like regular Bakurans. The fact that Ayn had always liked the scenery of the monorail trip was a benefit, as was the opportunity to point out things to Niall and Shenandoah as they whizzed by.

However, the grounds around the Noble House’s longtime family seat were crowded with shuttles. Many of the other attendees had come from worlds all over the galaxy and other parts of the planet.

“Declan! Ayn! You made it!” Ginnifer Lynd Harlow exclaimed, coming down the porch steps of the big house. Slung around her midsection was her months-old firstborn child. It was an awkward hug having to maneuver around the infant.

“So here’s our little niece,” Ayn said, looking down at the little girl.

“Yes, this is Vienna,” Ginnifer said. “Thank goodness she’s sleeping right now. Falene has me coordinating everyone and if I had a screaming kid I’d...well, I’d probably give her to Rickard but he gets up at night for her and frankly I don’t want to trade that.”

“Never give that up,” Declan said. “But what’s that about coordinating for Fae?”

“Oh! Everything’s on a strict schedule,” Ginny explained. She flipped through her datapad. “You’ll be up soon. Right now she’s in with Uncle Ronan. She’s only just started. Until then, there’s food of course, and drinks. I saw your mom around here somewhere if you want to see her while you wait.”

“Shenandoah, Niall, look, there are your cousins from Hapes, let’s go say hello,” Ayn said.

“Be careful kids! One of them is second in line for the Consortium throne!” Declan called after his family. “Don’t play rough! Their bodyguards might shoot!”

“Declan, you really shouldn’t say things like that,” Ginnifer scolded.

“Even if they’re true?”

“Especially if they’re true.”

---

Inside the Taoiseach’s study, Falene and Ronan were seated across from each other. Falene occupied a nerfhide chair while Ronan sat on a matching couch, a low caf table between them, its polished black top mirroring the dark finish of the furniture in the intimate room. The fireplace was lit, providing some warmth on a crisp afternoon.

“I was surprised when I heard that you wanted to see me first,” Ronan told his niece. “Usually I’m the last being you want to see.” He smiled wryly to this reference to the financial reports of the Noble House that Falene so loathed.

Falene laughed. “This time I care about the money. Specifically our charitable contributions for the year. How much have we spent?”

“We’re early in the year, so not much at all. Declan and Ayn asked that we contribute to the national parks system last year during the strike to keep them open while you were gone and I thought that you would agree if you were here,” Ronan said. “There was a bit of overage we carried into this year, but we’ve got most of the usual funds available.”

“Good. If we cancel all of this year’s remaining charitable budget, what would that leave us with?” Falene said.

---

“Aunt Siona, how nice to see you. We don’t talk enough,” Falene said, giving her aunt a hug.

“I’m always just a holo call away,” Siona said. “Of course, where you hang out these days, there aren’t a lot of comm buoys.”

Falene smiled. “No, not much. I wanted to talk to you about your board work.” Siona represented the Noble House on most of its prominent boards of directors, representing them where they held a significant financial position in a company by virtue of its security holdings. As a former diplomat she knew how to navigate the personal relationships that governed the highest tier of business.

“Something Ronan tell you trouble you?” Siona asked. There was the barest defense in her voice.

“No, nothing like that. It’s about your fellow board members. You know them all well?”

“Of course. It’s part of the job.”

“Good. I’d like you to beat the bushes for some charitable donations to a cause I’m espousing,” Faelene said.

“Easily done,” Siona promised.

“The trick is...they’re not going to like the cause. That’s why I need your persuasive abilities.”

---

“Welcome back Falene,” Jane Serena said, embracing her cousin. “What did you find out in Wild Space? Exotic new plants? Pirate treasures?”

“Not this time,” Falene said, “though I think people only find those in songs.”

“Oh that’s a good idea!” Jane Serena exclaimed and she grabbed some flimsi to scribble some song ideas. Another hit single was probably already in the works knowing Jane Serena.

“I wanted to see both of you,” Falene said, nodding to her Aunt Mandy, Jane Serena’s mother, “because I’d like you to both do a charity concert and see if you can’t get some of the other acts you know to participate.”

“Of course,” Mandy said. “What’s the cause?”

“That’s what we need to talk about.”

---

“Mom, Declan, Ayn,” Falene said, greeting each member of her immediate family in turn with a hug. “Sorry it took so long to see you. I had to deal with some money issues before I was ready.”

“I know how it is,” Kerry Trieste said. However, her attention was not on her daughter, but on the portrait hanging over the fire. “So this is it? You sent holos, but seeing it in person is something else.” She crossed to examine the portrait of Niall Trieste I recovered by Haylee Kelt the Mandalorian, the last of the missing Taoiseach portraits. “Amazing. The whole set, restored.”

“Yeah, isn’t it something?” Falene said. “Hope you don’t mind I’ve got it hanging in here instead of yours.”

“Don’t be silly. This one suits you better,” Kerry said. “Now, Ginnifer made it sound like you had something to talk to us about?”

Everyone took a seat. “Yes, I do. I asked you to come for your experience, Mom, but Ayn and Declan would be the ones doing the heavy lifting.”

“What do you need moved through the Senate?” Ayn asked, connecting the dots and going straight to the heart of the matter.

“A pretty big bill, but I think if framed properly it’ll be something that’ll be good for you two to have your names on, especially in an election year.”

Declan and Ayn shared a look, but only briefly. “After the strike, we were intending to keep our heads down in 284. We’re going to be targets, especially me.”

“Like I said, this can be a win if you play it right, and I know you can. You’ll get the better end of this bargain,” Falene explained.

“Who’s getting the worse end?” Kerry asked, eyebrows arched.

“Let me worry about that,” Falene assured her.

“Then what is it we can do for our Taoiseach?” Ayn asked.

---

“Wow. Swanky place,” Swann Cataline Lynd said, looking around the study.

“Don’t say I never take you anywhere nice,” her husband Cillian Lynd said as he poured himself a drink. “Want one Fae?”

“No, thanks, long day, I’ll wait until dinner,” Falene said.

“Seriously though, Falene, this place is pretty cool. I mean, the Consortium has some beautiful spaces but I want an office like this,” Swann said.

“Maybe we make a few more blue milk runs and we can put one on the ship. Captain’s quarters,” Cillian suggested.

“It’s going to take a lot of blue milk to afford this…” Swann said, her voice trailing off.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about your ship,” Falene said. “Do you have any contracts?”

“Not at the moment. We were hoping to get one on the way out,” Cillian said, taking a seat next to his wife.

“You’re in luck. The Noble House of Trieste is now your sole client for the foreseeable future,” Falene announced with a smile.

---

“Elfie, how have you been?” Falene said, greeting her cousin.

“Things are pretty good,” Elphaba Trieste said, hugging Falene. “I’m so glad you’re back. It was a long trip this time! I haven’t heard from you in ages! I’m so glad you’re all right.”

“You have no idea how long this trip was,” Falene said, sitting down next to Elfie on the couch. “Still enjoying your work in non-profits?”

“Yeah, it’s better than what my friends complain about doing in the private sector. You know I’m grateful to the Noble House for the credits to do that work. It’s hard to make a living working your way up the ranks when you have to pay Salis D’aar rents.”

“I was thinking about that, actually,” Falene said. “How would you feel about a new challenge?”

---

“Aunt Regan, Uncle Atticus, Trixie,” Falene said, embracing each of them in turn. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. It’s an easy trip over from Salis D’aar,” Atticus said. “In fact, we should do it more often. Get out of the city for the weekend.”

“You can use the house any time,” Falene said. “You were kind enough to look after me when I lived at the Plaza. It’s the least I can do.”

“Can I bring my entire law school class to throw a rager?” Trixie asked with a straight face.

Her mother hit Trixie in the back of the head. “Don’t be cheeky, dear,” the Supreme Court Justice said.

“She said any time,” Trixie said, giving her mother a look.

“There’s actually some legal paperwork I’d like you three to go over. I thought Trixie would appreciate getting some experience even though she’s still got two years left at Tiarest Law,” Falene said, sending some documents to her relatives’ datapads. “I thought it best to keep these in the family rather than go to Crane Poole & Schmidt.”

“Are they still the Noble House’s attorneys? Losers,” Trixie mumbled.

“Falene, if I’m reading this right…” Atticus said, looking at the first document intently.

“Yes, you are. And that’s why you three are handling this,” Falene confirmed.

---

Nessa Trieste and Admiral Fiona Westenra sat next to each other on the nerfhide couch, facing their mutual niece.

“I’ll be the one to bite,” Nessa said. “What can we do for you, Falene? No offense, Fiona, but we don’t cross paths regularly.”

“Certainly not,” Fiona said. She decided against asking Nessa if she’d ever fired a blaster, knowing that for a being raised on Chandrila the answer was almost certainly a decided no.

“Well, you both work in education in your own way,” Falene said to the high school civics teacher and the military academy superintendent. “Aunt Nessa, how easy would it be for you to name the best transformative high schools on Bakura?”

“I could give you ten right now and ten more later,” Nessa said.

“And Aunt Fiona how about the best secondary education military schools on world?”

“Reformatory or instructional?” Fiona asked.

“Both.”

---

“Rickard, Trellam, Enoch, good to see you. Cillian, thanks for coming back in,” Falene said, shaking their hands. All the members of the tenth generation of the Noble House who had served in the armed forces were now in one room.

“Here’s the kid,” Cillian said, throwing his prosthetic arm around Enoch’s neck. “Age of 23 and he already outranks you and me, Rickard. Look at that second lieutenant bar. Just wait until you get in a combat zone. Those’ll be like homing beacons for blaster bolts. Good for you, mate.”

“Hey now, as a fellow officer I’ll have you enlisted men keep your paws off him,” Trellam said, removing Cillian’s arm. “Sorry I didn’t find you earlier, Enoch. Congratulations on graduating from the Academy, soldier.

“Thanks, Major,” Enoch said, shaking the Hapan prince’s hand. “I hope I’ll make it as far as you.”

“I’m sure you will,” Trellam assured him. “We’ll talk more about that later. Right now we’re taking up Falene’s time and I know she’s got a lot of beings to see today.”

Falene waved her hand. “Please, even a small break is nice. I needed something to let me unwind a little bit.”

“What can we do for you, Falene?” Rickard asked, sitting down.

“I’m glad you asked. I think your joint experience makes you suited to a certain task I have in mind,” Falene said.

---

“I keep telling Siona we should get away to Prytis every once in awhile but it’s always ‘this board needs me’ and ‘that board has a meeting that week.’ It seems like the only time she’ll agree is when I can’t be out of the office,” Dr. Dorian Lynd said. “Suspicious if you ask me.”

“You know the house is always open, even if it’s just you,” Falene said.

“I should come on my own just to spite her,” Dorian said with a smile.

“Same goes to you, May.”

“Thanks Fae,” Dr. May Trieste said. “I have to admit, if you hadn’t seen everyone else first, I’d be a little worried. I’d think you’d picked some virus up out there in Wild Space and you wanted our diagnosis.”

“Nothing so bad as that,” Falene assured her. “I’m actually looking for some referrals.”

“Oh that’s all?” Dorian said. “Easily done. I know everyone worth seeing in Gesco City. What field?”

“Mental health.”

“I hope not for yourself.”

“No, nothing like that,” Falene said.

“I’ve got three names I can give you right now,” Dorian said, reaching for a pen and flimsi.

“Actually,” Falene said, “I’m going to need a lot more than three.”

---

“So, let’s see...Uncle Ronan, Mom, Aunt Mandy, Jane Serena, Aunt Kerry, Declan, Ayn, Swann, Cillian, Elfie, Aunt Regan, Uncle Atticus, Trixie, Aunt Nessa, Aunt Fiona, Rickard, Trellam, Enoch, Cillian again, Uncle Dorian, May...phew,” Ginny recited. “That’s everyone, right?”

“Almost. Shut the door and have a seat,” Falene said. “I have something to ask of you too.”

“Anything, you know that,” Ginny said, taking a place on the couch.

“I’d like Octave Rivers to close the store for two days. They don’t have to be consecutive,” Falene said.

“But The Rivers has never closed its doors for an entire day, ever!” Ginny exclaimed. “Losing a whole day of sales would be...it could be awful! And staff who would lose hours. It’ll hit them hard.”

“Let me rephrase,” Falene said. “I’d like The Rivers closed to the public for two days. It will very much need all of its staff for what I have planned.”

---

“So, have you seen Falene, Horst?” Oisin Trieste asked his nephew, the professional limmie player Horst Penn.

“Nope. Do you know what the big deal is? Trixie said she can’t tell me right now. Falene wanted to talk to everyone,” Horst said.

“Haven’t the slightest clue. May said much the same, but apparently Falene is going to explain soon,” Oisin said. “I wouldn’t take it too personally that you’re in the dark. I am too.”

“Oh, I’m not in the dark. Falene gave me a job,” Horst said.

“Really?” Oisin asked with evident curiosity.

“Yeah, she said if anyone tried to go up these stairs to the third floor I was to tackle them,” Horst explained.

“Tackle them?”

“Yeah, like a Nar Shaddaa Smuggler forward,” Horst said. “Good thing she didn’t say a Merc. I can never tackle them for some reason...”

“Hmmmm...but there’s a flaw in that plan, my friend,” Oisin said. “What if you tackle someone and then another being tries to slip by you?”

“Well, Uncle Oisin, that’s why Falene asked me to backup Horst,” Vesper Lynd said, coming down the stairs. “And frankly, given what’s up here I’m not surprised she isn’t taking any chances.”

“Is it pizza? Because I could totally go for pizza,” Horst asked.

Before Vesper could reply, they were interrupted by Quentin Eldred bounding up the steps. “Falene says it’s time for a family meeting. Everyone to the great room--including you, Vesper and Horst.”

“Will there be pizza?” Horst asked hopefully.

---

“Some of you know more than others, but nobody knows everything, which is why we’re having this meeting,” Falene explained to the more than 30 beings of the Noble House of Trieste sitting in the large living room of Kilmainham Brook.

“About that, Fae: since when do we have pre-meetings before family meetings?” Antrose Trieste asked testily.

“There are a lot of plates spinning right now, Antrose,” Falene said. “Until I dealt with some of them, a group discussion was not productive. Those of you who have learned the most about this will understand that. As to everyone else, I’m going to ask that you let me finish before you ask any questions or make any comments.

“And let me make one thing clear: I swore an oath. What was that oath, Mom?”

“To guide the Noble House of Trieste faithfully, to uphold its interests above all else, to further bind the Noble House to Bakura and her interests, to--”

“‘To further bind the Noble House to Bakura and her interests,’” Falene said, selecting the pertinent part of the Taoiseach’s oath. “What we will do in the coming months, the things I have asked many of you to do, is in service to Bakura. What we are about to do is for the good of Bakura. Perhaps the galaxy.”

“Falene, for those of us who didn’t have a meeting with you, what are we doing?” Henrietta asked.

Falene told them. When she was finished, the great room was silent.

 

The discovery of extant members of a sentient species thought to be extinct for nearly 80 years is huge. I'm not surprised that the whole family is going to be involved somehow.

But what did she tell them?!?!

 

Look whose coming to dinner....

Honestly though this is going to be good!

Buckle up

 

AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 Tim Battershell Vehn



Adventurers Club, Prytis, Bakura

The media had been promised “a major announcement by the Taoiseach of the Noble House of Trieste regarding her recent travels in Wild Space.” That was enough to drag reporters out to the wooded retreat of Bakura’s wealthy. The reporters who came were from the science divisions of their publications, which meant that they were not the top reporters for their organizations. They were good at their jobs, but they weren’t the planetary politics reporters or investigative reporters that usually graced the headlines. The first trip to Wild Space that Trieste’s Adventurers Club had sponsored had brought back tales of an exotic new planet, but no encounters with new life beyond the knowledge of their galaxy. “A major announcement” promised something big as these reporters saw it. Would their stories be big outside the science section? Perhaps, but probably not.

Their reporters instincts, it turned out, were totally wrong.

“Thank you for joining us today,” Falene said, welcoming the media inside the cozy confines of the club. She spoke at a podium with a long table next to her, three chairs tucked underneath. It would make an excellent setup for a question and answer session from Falene’s fellow explorers: Kalrai Esnod, Mugrog Uepu, and Haylee Kelt.

“Some months ago, I began preparations for the second expedition of the Adventurers Club to chart new star lanes to a world that, according to astronomical observations and readings, held the potential to support sentient life as it is generally accepted in the galaxy,” Falene said. “Undertaking this journey with my team, we arrived at this world to discover that its landmasses were largely covered in temperate rainforest biomes--and, much to our interest, home to one observable settlement.”

This was what the reporters had come for. The big scoop. New life in the galaxy. This story was absolutely getting out of the science section and into the mainstream newsfeed.

“We made our way to this settlement and discovered something we never expected to find. Not new life and civilization. That we would have been prepared for,” Falene stated. “We found life that the galaxy had already known and thought lost.

“We found the last Kurtzen left in the galaxy.”

The room was silent for a full second as everyone processed what Falene had just said and then the reporters didn’t just buzz--they shouted. Questions. Surprise. Shock. Joy. Falene put her hands up to indicate she had more to say.

“What we learned overturned much of what we thought. Prior to the orbital bombardment of Bakura that killed nearly all sentient beings on the planet, the Sith had taken a colony of Kurtzen to this world, which they called Kitokaime, Sith for ‘new land,’ for the sole purpose of using them as slaves to build a settlement on this world. Unable to return due to specific environmental factors that degraded the fuel cells of the Sith transport’s engines, the Kurtzen and Sith alike were unable to leave Kitokaime. The Kurtzen eventually successfully rebelled against the Sith and established their own society on this world. Their history is long and involved and I cannot do it justice.

“To do that, it is my pleasure to introduce Taoiseach of the Kurtzen of Kitokaime, Corrigador Pinewind.”

The reporters gasped as the white skinned leader of the Kurtzen stepped into the main briefing room. Dressed no longer in the tattered clothes that had been all he had on Kitokaime, he was now dressed like any other Bakuran. It was clear that he had not quite settled into these new clothes by the way he wore them, but he was starting to get used to them.

When the initial surprise passed, the media began applauding. For those who were born on Bakura, who had learned about the Kurtzen in the history textbooks and their extermination as one of the great evils of the Sith occupation and just as great a regret as a planet that their only indigenous sentient species was now gone, this was nothing short of a national triumph. Two of the older attendees, who had been raised on family stories about Kurtzen their ancestors had known, even cried. Falene shook hands warmly with Pinewind and the cameras captured the moment for history.

“Taoiseach Pinewind will have much to say about what happened on Kitokaime later, but first let me say that there are several thousand Kurtzen still on Kitokaime. My ship, the Wanderer, is not equipped for large scale transport of beings. However, the Noble House of Trieste has already sent shuttles to begin bringing the Kurtzen back to Bakura, which Taoiseach Pinewind will confirm is their desire to a being. The memory of Bakura has lived in their hearts ever since they were herded off world. This is their home.

“But,” Falene said, “they were not alone.

“As I said, the Sith intended to colonize Kitokaime. They brought with them not just soldiers and slaves, but spouses and children. We also found their descendants on Kitokaime. They no longer called themselves Sith, but Trivans.

“And one of their foremost members joins us today as well.”

The shock at the appearance of the Taoiseach of the Kurtzen had been palpable, but what passed through the room when Elza appeared was like a blow to the chest. Like Corrigador, the blonde Trivan woman was now dressed in new, contemporary clothes. Yet the reporters looking at her saw not the feral vigor of the Kurtzen but a hardness in the teenager. The cameras flashed as Falene Trieste, whose great-grandparents had been martyred by the Sith, shook hands with the descendants of Sith soldiers and supporters. The young woman looked uncertainly at the reporters, as if sensing their hesitant, perhaps even hostile, reception.

“The Trivans have no formal leader like the Kurtzen for their society was broken up by the Kurtzen revolt,” Falene explained, “but Elza is recognized as one of the foremost Trivans. She represents her nation today and will answer questions with Taoiseach Pinewind. At their request, the Trivans will also be brought from Kitokaime to Bakura.”

This caused another ripple of murmurs and surprise to go through the press corps.

“As I have alluded to, there is a history of conflict between the Kurtzen and the Trivans. It is a long and bloody conflict. It involves injustice and reprisal on both sides. It is deeply rooted in the cultures that developed over 80 years of isolation from the rest of the galaxy. Many of you in this room, and perhaps all who will see this throughout Bakura and the galaxy, will look at these two and see one hero and one villain.

“I see two beings who knew nothing but violence for far too long. I see no victory. I see only loss. I see pain.

“And I see, more clearly than anything I have ever seen, an opportunity to find a better way, to be the city on a hill that our ancestors have always wanted Bakura to be.

“That is why I today I announce the founding of the Prytis Accords Foundation,” Falene announced. “Its sole purpose is to help transition the beings of Kitokaime back into galactic society, providing them with education, job training, housing, and social services. I have pledged 30 million credits from the Noble House of Trieste over the next four years to help these beings, Kurtzen and Trivan, become part of the galaxy again. This is a deep wound in Bakura’s psyche, one we never knew existed until now, and our patriotism demands that we do the hard work required to heal it.

“The Noble House cannot do this alone. The Prytis Accords Foundation will need to be a public and private partnership if it is to succeed. I have already spoken with my brother and sister in-law and they have agreed to champion this cause in Salis D’aar, but we cannot look solely to government for help. Bakurans, great and small, will be needed to make the Foundation a success.

“I know that helping the Kurtzen will likely garner broad support, but we cannot focus only on their plight. The Trivans deserve our help too.” The mood in the room chilled. “I will not allow the sins of the mother to be the sins of the daughter. The Trivans are not the Sith. They are not responsible for things done during the Neo-Sith War. They are only responsible for their actions and even those must be understood in the context of their birth and their life until now.

“I believe that beings can change, and change for the better. I know, deep in my heart, that whatever is due to a Kurtzen is due to a Trivan. Perhaps even more so, for Elza is one of the oldest of the Trivan. As you may have noted, I did not introduce her with a surname. She has none. Her parents, and the parents of all the Trivans, were killed by the Kurtzen before she could learn one. This is no indictment upon the Kurtzen, but one of the many terrible facts of life on Kitokaime. The Trivans are orphans of war and death. They especially deserve our aid.

“That is why, this morning, I have filed the necessary forms to adopt Elza and two of her fellow Trivans, named Gaius and Avie.”

These reporters now knew if there was any question, they were getting the story of their lives--even by long Bakuran standards. The Taoiseach of the Noble House of Trieste adopting Sith. They could almost see the journalism prizes.

“Gaius and Avie remain on Kitokaime along with senior members of the Kurtzen. Joining them are Mugrog Uepu and Haylee Kelt, who stand in my place to guarantee the truce between the nations of Kitokaime. As you know, we Bakurans are big into truces. However, a truce is temporary. It is only the prelude to the goal of trillions of beings throughout the galaxy.

“Taoiseach Pinewind, Elza, and I will now sign a peace accord. In it, the Kurtzen and the Trivan agree to cease all hostilities towards each other in exchange for their transit to Bakura and aid to reintegrate into galactic society from the Prytis Accords Foundation, on whose behalf I will sign as President,” Falene said. “The road before all of us is hard, but healing is hard. It does not make it less worth doing.”

The three beings sat down, left to right, Elza, Falene, and Corrigador. In front of each was placed nicely bound flimsi treaties and styluses with which to sign. After they affixed their signature to one, they traded with one of the other signatories, repeating the process until all three copies had all three signatures.

When it was all done, the three stood up. Elza looked at her Kurtzen counterpart and he looked back at his former antagonist--a being that he had once sentenced to death. For a moment, they hesitated. Then the Trivan put her hand out and the Kurtzen took it. Falene clasped her hands around theirs and the cameras captured the symbol of the end of hostilities.

For reasons that no one who was present could quite explain, everyone in the room stood and applauded.

 

Those news organizations are going to wish that they had sent their top reporters and not the science reporters. Then again, the science reporters are probably glad to have their day on the front page.

Falene is right. The sins of the parent are not the sins of the child, and the Kurtzen do not have entirely clean hands here. I'm glad she recognizes that and worked out a peace deal.

Falene is adopting Trivans?! Is one of them going to be a future Taoiseach of the Noble House?

I still want to know how she managed to get off the planet.

You know it's a great post when I have that much to talk about.

 

Falene Trieste: Author of the Prytis Accord One Taoiseach's accounting of one of the most historic peace treaties in the galaxy. Awesome! Nice post!

 

What I ask myself now is: Falene Trieste, a political master mind or a real human being showing compassion?

Anyway, a stunning update. Her speech was like something I had to translate during Latin lessons back at grammar school.

 

Now that's a flattering compliment! Thank you!

 

@AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 Tim Battershell Vehn I need to write shorter posts.



Kitokaime

The first wave of spacecraft that landed in the forest clearing on Kitokaime to take its residents to Bakura was comprised of just three ships: two freighters and one shuttle. The shuttle was in the lead as it slowly descended from the morning sky to gently touch down on the grass. The grove, their makeshift landing zone, was just large enough for all three shuttles to fit.

The shuttle’s access ramp was the first to descend and Kalrai Esnod, the first pilot in over eight decades to land on Kitokaime and perhaps the only one to crash onto it ever, came down. The freighters that flanked him disgorged their pilots: Cillian Lynd and Swann Lynd.

“Remind me again why you got our ship, Captain Lynd, and I got the rental?” Cillian called across to his wife.

“Because I’m not going to trust our ship to you when we’re piloting barely plotted starlanes. You’d hit an asteroid with it,” Swann said.

“Once! I hit an asteroid once!” Cillian protested. “How long is this going to keep coming up?”

“If the conjugal spat could be put on hold for a moment,” Kalrai requested, “I believe our passengers have arrived.”

“That’s the bucket the Taoiseach sent you back with?” Haylee Kelt called out as she emerged from the treeline. Her blaster rifle was back in her possession, slung over her shoulder. “Took you long enough to get back, Esnod!”

“Take it up with management,” the Ithorian replied. He might have even smiled as he said it--that is if Ithorians could smile.

“Well, since you enjoy leaving me here to not shoot things,” the Mandalorian said, “let’s get this show on the road.” She turned around to face the forest and shouted, “All right, let’s go!”

Kurtzen and Trivan emerged from the forest, slowly. They carried little with them, just the clothes on their backs and small packs of what few personal mementos and keepsakes they couldn’t part with. There were about twice as many Kurtzen as there were Trivan, a testament to the former’s larger population.

“Trivan passengers over here,” Cillian called out, waving his arms. “All Kurtzen to the other two shuttles! Trivans over here!”

The Kurtzen and Trivan would eye each other from time to time as they headed to the shuttles. Though peace had been declared between their two nations based on the terms put forth by Falene Trieste, they still didn’t trust each other. Separating them on the starships had been a prudent idea.

One Kurtzen in particular led his way towards Kalrai’s ship. It was Celgrod, the only Kurtzen left alive who remembered Bakura. He was supported by one of his fellow Kurtzen. It had been agreed by the other Kurtzen that after their Taoiseach he should be the first to return to Bakura.

He hesitated before he got onto the shuttle, turning to Kalrai. “You are the same pilot who brought the Taoiseach and the others here?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kalrai confirmed. “It’s an honor to have you flying with me.”

“But how did you leave? The mist…”

“The Sith were doomed when they put down in the valley. It’s regularly socked in. The fog and clouds carry particles that react with fuel cells and put them out of commission,” Kalrai said. “They can restore themselves if you get them outside of the fog soon enough. That’s why we went down in the clouds, but could take off later. On a sunny day--” he gestured to the blue skies above them “--it’s smooth sailing. Don’t ask me why. I’m just a pilot, not an engineer.”

Celgrod smiled. “Then let’s get on with it, shall we?” He stepped on board the shuttle, finally leaving Kitokaime behind.

“Climb aboard, friends!” Swann said to the Kurtzen getting onto her freighter-turned-passenger-transport. “It’s time for you to see what you’ve been missing.”

---

Senate Building, Salis D’aar, Bakura

“...and it was my honor to be present for this moment in Bakuran history,” Declan said on the floor of the Senate. “We have regained part of our national heritage. The Kurtzen were the first nation of Bakura. Even after human settlement, they took to our ways. They did not turn to violence. They embraced progress. Kurtzen have served in this very body. Bakura has an obligation to them. Let them be our first nation again.”

“I know this is an election year, Senator Trieste, and I hear the polls are pretty tight in Telaan Valley, but does the esteemed Senator have a question?” the Prime Minister asked, generating laughter from her loyal Unionist Senators of the opposing party.

“I do indeed, Madam Prime Minister. I have introduced a bill to provide aid to the Kurtzen people, including a provision to reserve land for the Kurtzen should they choose to live amongst themselves and apart from Bakuran society at large,” Declan said. “Will the Prime Minister sign such a bill if passed by the Senate?”

“As the Senator has said, the Kurtzen have been an integral part of Bakura’s history and it is important that they continue to be. Therefore, I would support a sensible bill to provide support to the Kurtzen as they rejoin Bakuran society,” the Prime Minister said. “This is not a partisan issue, but a Bakuran issue.”

“And seeing as the honorable Prime Minister keeps up-to-date with pending bills as part of her duties, does she feel that the bill recently introduced is sensible?” Declan pressed.

“Based on what I know of the bill now, it looks like something I could sign,” the Prime Minister admitted.

Declan smiled. “Thank you for your time, Madam Prime Minister.”

---

Gesco City, Bakura

“You forget, I used to be a Senator,” Siona Lynd told a fellow board member of The Rivers department store. She was in the middle of pouring tea in the drawing room of her spacious home in the affluent suburbs of Gesco City. “I know how things move there and let me assure you that the Senate is going to pass a Kurtzen assistance bill. It’s just the sort of thing every Senator wants during an election year.”

“Yes, of course, but that’s all the more reason for the private sector to stay out and put our charitable donations to use elsewhere. The federal government has this taken care of,” the board member said, accepting the cup of tea.

“Even with my niece’s generous gift and federal funding, more will still need to be done,” Siona said. “We’re talking tens of thousands of beings that have to be resettled from Kitokaime. Their needs are many. We’re talking shelter, education, jobs, healthcare, counseling...they’re all going to need it. That costs money. And none of the money that the Senate will appropriate will be earmarked to help the Trivans. It’d be a bill breaker. Imagine having your opponent say you voted to help the Sith. I’ve been out of the game for a while, but even I know that no Senator will take that chance.

“That’s why my niece’s foundation will shoulder the whole burden for rehabilitating the Trivans. It won’t be able to do it alone,” Siona explained.

“And if people find out that I want to give credits to help Sith?”

“That’s why the Foundation will be helping both, though the Trivans will receive a larger share. This will be kept quiet, trust me. That’s why Dorian and I have already donated from our personal accounts.

“Besides,” Siona said, raising her teacup almost to her lips, “don’t you want to be part of the greatest peace of our time?”

---

Prytis, Bakura

Elfie Trieste stood in the doorway of the Prytis Accords Foundation offices. It was totally empty, devoid of even furniture. That made sense because right now Elfie was the only employee of the Foundation. Though she was not going to lead the operations of the Foundation (such a thing was well beyond any experience she’d had in her nonprofit work to date), she was going to be the Chief of Staff.

Elfie set her box of personal belongings on the carpet. “Job 1: Get furniture,” Elfie said, surveying the offices. “Job 2: hire my boss.”

There were going to be some long nights ahead.

---

Tix on sale now for the Concert for Kitokaime!!! Coruscant, Corellia, Denon & Bakura only! All proceeds to charity! was what Jane Serena Trieste put on her HoloNet feed.

Twenty minutes later, she’d sold every ticket for every show, sold time on the HoloNet for the galactic broadcast of the Coruscant concert, had begun accepting volunteers to work the comm lines during the broadcast to accept donations, and was already selling Concert for Kitokaime merchandise to further bolster the ultimate donation to the Prytis Accords Foundation.

---

Prytis, Bakura

“Your honor,” Atticus Eldred began, “the three juveniles in question and present in the court today have entered Bakura under provisional refugee status granted by the Ministry of State. The court has received affidavits from each attesting to the fact that their parents are deceased and their estimated ages, as near as they can reckon, all of which classifies them as minors and orphans according to the laws of Bakura and this county. As a result, my client has submitted the necessary forms and fees to adopt the three juveniles present today.”

“Mr. Eldred, your work is, as I was told to expect, impeccable,” the judge said, reviewing the legal documents already presented to the court. “As you are aware, immigration laws enacted by the Senate last year have severely restricted the admission of non-citizens to Bakura on visas or permanent residency. Granting these adoptions could be complicated given these immigration laws given the non-resident status of the juveniles in question.”

“Your honor, in the absence of guidance from a higher court or a clearer legislation from the Senate, we understand the dilemma,” Atticus said. “At this time, Ms. Trieste asks that the court place the three juveniles in her care as guardians for the duration of their provisional status, which is capped at a length of no more than one year. When the Senate or Ministry of State takes final action that grants citizenship or a residency visa to these juveniles, we ask that the adoption be approved.”

“The age of Ms. Elza and Mr. Gaius are 17, I see. They could be considered adults by the time this process ends, rendering adoption unnecessary.”

“That is correct, your honor. However, my client contends that she is responsible for all three juveniles, even though they will reach adulthood in the next year. She would like her interest in the course of their lives to be reflected in the legal record by way of adoption.”

“Ms. Elza, Mr. Gaius, and Ms. Avie, please stand,” the judge instructed. The three did. This was a far cry from the last court they’d been in. Then they had been gagged and death all but certain. “All three of you are of an age where you have begun to develop into adults. I caution you that this process has only begun, which is why Bakura has established the age of 18 as that of adulthood and the ability to fully exercise your rights. However, you are more than children. I believe that you should be able to give your thoughts on some matters, and this is one of them. I do not wish to rule in this matter without input from each of you. Do you want to be the ward of Ms. Trieste and eventually adopted by her, should circumstances allow it?”

“Sir--your honor,” Gaius said, correcting himself as he looked at Atticus. It was clear that the attorney had prepared them for what would happen today. “My friends and I...we owe our lives to Falene Trieste--Ms. Trieste, that is. We survived on our own for a long time...but that was under much different circumstances. We’re thankful to Ms. Trieste for her offer to mentor us as we learn how to navigate this world.”

“You see, you didn’t survive very long on Kitokaime if you thought you knew everything,” Elza said. “I don’t think this world is much different.”

“Ms. Avie, as the youngest of the three who would be under the care of Ms. Trieste for the longest, what are your thoughts on the matter?” the judge asked.

“Where my friends go, I go too,” Avie said, “and if they trust her, so do I.”

“Then this court places Elza, Gaius, and Avie in the care of Falene Trieste for the duration of their time on Bakura under provisional refugee status. Should they be granted permanent residency or citizenship, this order shall effect the adoption of all three by Falene Trieste.”

“Thank you, your honor,” Atticus said.

“You did well,” Falene said to her three new wards.

“So, what now?” Gaius asked.

“Now you learn what a nerfburger is,” Falene said. “Trust me, it’s a good thing.”

---

Kurtzen Reservation, Bakura
One month later

Nessa Trieste looked at the construction going on in the near distance. That any was going on at all was a result of speedy Senatorial action, no doubt spurred by popular support, to create the Kurtzen Reservation in Yenshay county. It had been a careful dance to decide where the Reservation would go. Some counties didn’t want it at all. Others had clamored for the honor of hosting the Kurtzen (and the jobs that would come with the establishment of the reservation). Yenshay had made the best proposal: arable land for farming plus proximity to urban centers where manufacturing and service sector jobs could be found.

No Kurtzen would be forced to live on the Reservation. In fact, the Prytis Accords Foundation had made it clear that they would get resources wherever they chose to live on Bakura. (Though Nessa imagined the attendant logistical nightmares of such a promise probably kept her daughter Elfie up at night.) For those who wanted to ease into life off Kitokaime, this was a way to do that. After all, the only humans they had interacted with to this point in their life had been Trivans. That wasn’t the best precedent for living in and among the overwhelmingly human population of Bakura.

With the Reservation only recently opened, the only structures available to inhabit were tents. They were the nicest tents that the Prytis Accords Foundation and the federal government could find, but they were still tents. Some of the Kurtzen had volunteered to help in the construction of permanent dwellings and the policy pursued by the government was to maximize Kurtzen involvement in Reservation matters wherever possible. That was helping the speed of construction progress well. After all, when putting a roof over your head and your neighbors’ was a primary motivating factor, working a weekend shift wasn’t so objectionable.

However, homes were not the first order of business. By community agreement and request to the federal government they had asked that educational facilities be placed at the head of the list for construction. It swelled Nessa’s heart to think that the Kurtzen already prioritized education--and not just for their children. Extensive skills training would be required for adults to be able to get jobs off the Reservation. Even so, the way that Kurtzen parents were already seeing their children to their tent school spoke to an understanding of the benefits of formal schooling that was gratifying to the high school civics teacher.

Nessa poked her head into one of the school tents. A teacher, recruited by Nessa for the task of teaching on the Reservation, was going over the history of the 200s ABY with them. It was quite appropriate as the Kurtzen hadn’t had any of that since leaving Bakura.

The school and its students had a long way to go, but Nessa thought it was off to a good start--a very good start.

---

Atalanta, Bakura

Admiral Fiona Westenra held a pair of macrobinoculars to her eyes and traced the progress of young Kurtzen and Trivans as they made their way through an obstacle course at the Fortress Military Preparatory Academy. She had personally requested that the secondary school, one of Bakura’s best military schools, allow its facilities to be used to test the skills of some of the younger Kitokaime refugees. Her niece the Taoiseach had suggested that some of the Kurtzen and Trivans would be better suited to the rigors of a military academy education than the traditional curriculum of regular high schools. As a product of the Fleet Academy that she now oversaw, Fiona saw plenty of advantages to that approach and was willing to make inquiries about evaluating and ultimately placing these young beings at academies across Bakura. It helped that the superintendents of these military academies wanted to remain in the Admiral’s good graces to ensure that their own students had a shot at the Fleet Academy for their university studies and a straight line to the Defense Fleet officer corps.

The superintendent of the Fortress Academy was watching next to Fiona with macrobinoculars of his own. “Physically, they’re in excellent shape. To be expected with wilderness living. Frankly, I wish every first year recruit I had was as physically well prepared as these kids are.”

As the pair watched, Fiona noticed that a Kurtzen bumped a Trivan as she came off a drill. The slight did not go unnoticed and the Trivan gave the Kurtzen a shove. Before things could go further, one of the trainers supervising the drills intervened and separated the two firmly. The pair leered at each other and returned to their workout.

“They need discipline,” the Fortress Academy chief said.

“They already have the warrior spirit,” Fiona said. “With that, they can learn everything else.”

---

Kurtzen Reservation, Bakura

Rickard Harlow set up the chairs in a circle like he did every week. Even though it was a long flight from Gesco City to the Reservation, he still came out here regularly as Falene had requested. Enoch was here every other week on a different day. Cillian came whenever he had runs that brought him to Bakura, spending a few days with the Kurtzen or the Trivans. He was back on an erratic schedule now that the evacuation of Kitokaime was done. It was about once a month that Trellam made it out from the Consortium. Given the great distance between Bakura and Hapes was still pretty impressive.

The reason each made the journey here was a simple one. Falene had asked these veterans of recent military conflicts and current servicebeings to talk to the Kurtzen and the Trivans about their experiences in the military. Cillian and Rickard, the two who had seen the fiercest combat, understood why this was necessary. The Prytis Accors were signed, but sometimes a war had a way of not seeming like it was over. Sometimes it wasn’t over.

Rickard had held these meetings with both Kurtzen and Trivans. Every time someone new came to a meeting he showed a picture of what he’d looked like when he came home from the Imperium War: a man with half a face.

“After the war, I was coming back to a place that I’d been before, a place that had nominally been home,” Rickard explained. “I know that’s not the case for you. You’re coming to some place new. You have no roots to ground you after what you’ve been through. You only have those of you who came through it with you. There’s strength in that, but it can also be a crutch. You see, I held onto my scars for years. I thought that’s how I should remember the ones who didn’t make it back. It took a long time before I realized that the best way for me to do that is to go on living.

“I’m not here to give you any answers. I’m just here to talk with you as someone who understands things in a way that others may not,” Rickard said. “So, who wants to start?”

---

Kilmainham Reservation, Bakura

“We’re going to have to get better xenobiology into curriculum across the planet,” Dorian Lynd said as he examined the chart of one of the Kurtzen patients. “Though they’re humanoid, there are a lot of peculiarities of the Kurtzen biology that have to be taken into account in diagnosis and treatment. Add in the fact there’s been no studies of them in the last 80 years....I had to look at a textbook written in 190 ABY. Ghastly.”

“Now’s the time to lobby the med schools to offer them,” May said. “Pro-Kurtzen sentiment is running high. Give it a year and the funding might no longer be so forthcoming.”

The pair were on hand not for medical examinations, but to assist in the coordination of mental health services for the Kurtzen. The groups run by May’s cousins were a start, but they only addressed some of the challenges facing the former inhabitants of Kitokaime. They had lived lives where basic survival had been a primary concern. Now they were being asked to integrate into a society of limitless proportions, with technology that was centuries ahead of what they had used. The pace of life on a world like Bakura could stagger the mind. It took psychologists, psychiatrists, and counselors to help beings make the adjustment.

That Falene had thought this far ahead was impressive--and very much needed. Already medical records showed that some Trivans and Kurtzen had experienced high levels of anxiety, sometimes reaching panic attacks. Some had related that they felt overwhelmed. Some even wanted to go back to Kitokaime. These were ailments that May and Dorian could only note and call attention to. It was for others to help them on the long road of adjustment.

---

The Rivers department store, Gesco City, Bakura
One week after the last shuttle from Kitokaime

“Ms. Trieste, so wonderful to finally meet you,” Octave Rivers said, welcoming Falene to his flagship department store in the heart of the commercial district of Bakura’s second city (though if you asked the residents they would point it that it was first in industrial production and far ahead of the preeners in Salis D’aar). “When Ms. Harlow ferried your request along, I thought it was a capital idea. Precisely the sort of thing we should do. The entire staff is more than excited to be part of this.” As usual, if he was going to say three words, another thirty had to follow.

“Thank you for reserving the store for us today and tomorrow,” Falene said. “I trust all of the details have been worked out?”

“Of course. Everything purchased over the next two days will be applied to the account you provided. You have nothing to worry about,” Rivers said.

The pair were interrupted by the sound of the store’s front doors sliding open. In came the Trivan of Kitokaime, gazing around at the myriad wares hawked by one of the most prominent emporiums on Bakura. Every product on display was something that they could never have conceived of on their forgotten world. Their eyes were more than wide as they took it all in.

“Come in, come in,” Octave said, welcoming the wayward adolescents and teenagers. “Welcome to The Rivers department store. As you know, the Prytis Accords Foundation has arranged for all of you to receive the things you need to be equipped for life on Bakura. Clothes, datapads, school supplies, and even some of the little things that will make your rooms a little brighter. Each of you will have one of the staff members here to guide you through your shopping, make suggestions, and help you make choices if you want. We want you to find the things that call to you, that feel like they belong to you. All of our staff will be here to advise you, but the decisions are yours. Now, if you’ll form a line over here we’ll pair each of you off with a staffer.”

The next day waves of Kurtzen would come to The Rivers to do exactly the same thing. The smaller number of Trivans was building to the thousands of Kurtzen who would come through to outfit their homes with clothes and appliances and the accoutrements of modern life.

“You three already have your guide,” Falene told her adopted children.

“I’m guessing that’s you?” Avie observed.

“Of course it is. Let’s start in fashion. Clothes make the being, they say,” Falene remarked, “and I think you all deserve a new beginning.”

 

I thoroughly enjoyed the amount of movement and forward progress in this piece. In a way its a closing of one chapter and the start of something new, something unique, and something oh so Bakuran. Where the Trieste story goes so shall I. Great writing all around. Wonderful snapshots of what is to come and what has been

 

Simply excellent. This is a wonderful and amazingly intricate storyline, and it is a testament to your writing skills that you were able to pull this off as well as you did.

 

It's going to get simpler from here. However, the return of the Kurtzen and the Trivans was a huge undertaking and one that I saw including much of the Noble House. I thought it worthwhile showing that Falene orchestrated the whole movement, but that it took the work of her family to make it happen.

Even though things will get simpler, this is just a beginning for many involved.

 

AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 Tim Battershell Vehn

Salis D’aar, Bakura

Ayn and Declan Trieste listened to the coverage of the Unionist National Convention, currently going on in Atalanta, on the holoprojector. It was the middle of the day there, but past midnight in the capital. To entertain themselves they were playing dejarik against each other, which is why they weren’t focusing on the images on the holoprojector. Their standing game was not in play tonight. This game was just an exercise of wits and strategy pitting husband against wife.

Two weeks ago they had been in Gesco City for the Fianna Fail National Convention where the party had ratified their candidate for Prime Minister. He was one of their fellow Senators and had attained the greatest honor his party could bestow after triumphing in the national primary a month prior. The convention had been a show of party unity and dedicated to excoriating the sitting Prime Minister, who had triumphed in the Unionist primaries. (Given that she’d run unopposed, that hadn’t been a surprise.) After the strike, Fianna Fail thought the Unionists looked vulnerable and flipping the executive branch was not out of the question.

Declan and Ayn had purposefully kept a low profile at the convention, preferring to let their newly minted nominee take center stage. Though they had been profiled earlier in the year as “Salis D’aar’s power couple” with Declan labeled “the Orator” and Ayn “the Organizer,” they had no wish to be accused of showing up their nominee. That endeared you to no one in the party.

Tonight was the first day of the Unionist convention and that included the formality of each delegate registering their votes to make the Prime Minister their nominee again. That process was about to get underway, which was why the couple were indulging in the board game.

Declan moved one of his pieces. “Trying for the early victory, I see,” Declan observed to his wife. “Usually you play the longer game.”

“Just checking to see if you were paying attention,” Ayn replied.

“Before we begin the balloting,” the UNC chair said, “I have received a request to address the convention at this time. Though unorthodox and unexpected, I will allow it given the requestor. Gentlebeings, it is my pleasure to introduce the leader of this party and of Bakura, Prime Minister Shayleen Theabar!”

The two liberal Senators turned away from their game. “You don’t think...” Declan asked as the Unionist convention came to its feet in applause.

“We always say it’s not over until it’s over,” Ayn said, turning up the sound on the holoprojector and pausing the dejarik timer. The two moved to the couch to watch the address.

What the Prime Minister said instantly entered Bakuran political lore.

“I am proud of everything we have accomplished over the last four years,” the Prime Minister said in her peroration. “Our progress reclaiming space for Bakurans to advance and grow has laid the groundwork for a generation of prosperity and greatness. But these achievements have not come without strife. They have required tough decisions and history will vindicate us.

“However, the present is not always so kind. The ravages of the political battlefield, metaphorical though they may be, still leave wounds. My work has never been about building a legacy, but about what we have done together. I have accepted the calumnies and abuse heaped upon me because of the laws I was privileged to sign because they were the right policies to pursue.

“As we saw a few weeks ago at our estimable colleagues’ gathering--” there were boos at this reference to the other party, “--this election has become a referendum on me, not on what will make Bakura a better world. This disrespects the ideas that have taken root in our society and threatens to distract us from a debate about the right course for our world.

“That is why I stand before you today to do what is right not for this party, but for Bakura. I hereby withdraw my name from consideration by this convention and will not, under any circumstances, stand for election to the office of Prime Minister. I release all delegates pledged to me to vote their consciences and instruct them to follow their consciences to find a standard bearer who will carry our principles forward and continue them in Marian Square through their election to Prime Minister of Bakura.”

That was when the chaos began. The presumptive nominee of the Unionist Party had just withdrawn. As political commentators reminded the beings watching, such a thing had happened once before. In 228, sitting Prime Minister Fionn Trieste, grandfather of Declan, had made a similar declaration at the end of his second term, catching his party equally by surprise at their convention. He had done it not because of personal unpopularity, as this Prime Minister had, for he was anything but. Instead, he had chosen that course to avoid being branded a lame duck until the last possible moment, allowing him to continue passing meaningful legislation through his entire term. The Fianna Fail convention that had ensued had been tumultuous, but eventually produced the next Prime Minister of Bakura.

Over the next two days, any Bakuran with even a passing interest in politics watched avidly as the Unionist convention surged through waves of votes and every prominent politician in the party vied for the privilege of standing for the highest office on the planet. Frontrunners rose and fell. Speeches were made by major candidates to present their case and sway delegates. Factions formed and dispersed. Staffers were pressed into services as floor managers to corral and control delegates. Promises and threats were made.

Finally, a winner emerged.

“Gentlebeings, I move to make the nomination unanimous by acclamation. Do I have a second?...Thank you. The motion is seconded. All in favor….The motion carries. Gentlebeings, I present to you the next Prime Minister of Bakura, Trixa Garlant!”

The very being who had negotiated the legislative deal to end the strike for the Unionists was now viewed as the being who could lead them into the future and hold the executive branch for them.

“You took a risk in negotiating with Garlant,” Declan said.

“I knew this was going to raise her profile,” Ayn allowed.

“This far?”

“No. The strike was bound to make the electorate not look at an incumbent PM with anything close to positive thoughts. Her exit from the race was always a decent possibility,” Ayn said.

“And now Fianna Fail is locked into a candidate predicated an incumbent PM. A candidate built around opposition rather than solutions,” Declan said.

“Pity that,” Ayn said. She moved a dejarik piece. It was the last move in their days-long game, placed on pause many times during the convention as the drama had unfolded. “That’s the game, my dear.”

“Like I said, playing the long game,” Declan grumbled.

 

Very intriguing. So Garlant is rewarded for ending the strike with the nomination for PM. Ayn does not seem nearly as concerned as I thought she'd be.

Even if it's fictional, at least there's one election this year that I'm actually interested in. Now if Trump, Hillary, and Bernie would all drop out like Theabar here,, then we could have two decent elections that I'm interested in.

 

Trieste for President 2016!

It worked out in the fanfic...

 

I'd vote for you over the two choices we currently have.... Oh, did I say that out loud? Sorry....

Great write up!

 

Falene never fails to amaze me. I wish all people would deal that generous with "new faces" in the neighbourhood. Especially now that there is the refugee problematic on Earth right here and right now.

Your fanfic shows that there is still goodness and kindness...

 

AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 Tim Battershell Vehn Speaking of Falene...

Salis D’aar, Bakura

With three teenagers in her care, Falene Trieste’s apartment was woefully undersized for her new life. Luckily, the Plaza had entire floors vacant in it and was ready to be inhabited immediately. Each of her Trivan wards had been given their own room in the heart of posh southeast Salis D’aar. It was a far cry from the ramshackle shelters they’d built on Kitokaime and was leagues above the camps the Kurtzen were living in on the Reservation and the assortment of homes and hostels the Trivans to which had been dispersed. Even their fellow youths who were now going through specialized training at the military academies on the world were living in dorm style bunks.

As they settled into their new home with their adopted mother, Elza, Gaius, and Avie were discovering just what it meant to have the last name Trieste. It meant living one floor above two Senators and two floors below an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court. These facts were given particular impact as they went through civics lessons on Bakuran history.

Falene had made it clear that they might be living in luxury, but they were going to work hard while they were there. The Trieste Trivans were no strangers to hard work for their bodies had been hardened by the elements. It was their minds, shaped for survival, that were now being stretched and challenged--and quite a challenge it was.

“You don’t think you’re pushing us a bit hard, do you?” Gaius complained. “You’re trying to compress twelve years of education into one year.”

“You discount everything you learned on Kitokaime,” Falene replied.

“We didn’t learn anything about history, advanced math, composition, or science while we were there,” Gaius said, holding up his datapad, stuffed with materials on everything one needed to know for entry exams.

“The tutors I’ve hired are specialists for working with non-traditional students. They excel at using real world experience to acquire academic knowledge,” Falene explained. “I know you can do it.”

“It’s one thing to say that to Avie. She’s got three years to learn this stuff. But you want Elza and I to go to university next year. How are we supposed to compete with beings who have been training their entire lives for this? That’s what the average student here does. They’re in training to make it to university with even smarter beings.”

“I don’t care what you do, but I insist you get some kind of education. You can go to trade school if you want. I want you to do what will make you happy and what you will be good at.”

“I was good at killing beings,” Gaius mumbled as he walked out of the room in frustration.

“You want to be a soldier?” Falene called after him. “You still need to know how a blaster rifle works or enough engineering to fix an engine if you crash land!” She sighed and sat down, deflated. “I finally have kids and I don’t even get the cute stage. They start off at half my age.”

“I’m surprised you don’t just pawn us off on those droid things you have,” Elza said from one of the other doorways. “Seems like that’d be a lot easier. They’re basically people, aren’t they?”

“Elza. Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” Falene said, standing. “I didn’t mean it. I’m glad you three are living with me. It’s just...harder than I thought. Doing the right thing.”

“Gaius is frustrated. We all are. This is all so new and now you want us to understand these lessons. We barely learned how to read on Kitokaime and now we’re supposed to learn all of this and in a year or two. It’s a lot,” Elza admitted.

“I know, but I know you can do it. All three of you are smart and tough. You can do this,” Falene told her.

“Gaius will get it. He’s just trying to adjust,” Elza said.

“Maybe a military academy would be the best place for him. It might give him direction,” Falene admitted.

“I know what he says, but you keep saying this is a new start for us. Letting Gaius be a soldier would just be another version of what we did on Kitokaime. He deserves better than that,” Elza said.

“That’s what I think too. I just wish he’d realize it,” Falene sighed.

“I actually came to ask you a question,” Elza said.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Today during history the tutor told us more about what happened on Bakura during the Neo-Sith War. I know what you said at the...trial,” Elza said, pausing. It was clear that altered circumstances hadn’t altered her impression of Kurtzen justice. “About how the beings that our ancestors came from, the Sith, killed your ancestors. But he said that this world was rebuilt after it was destroyed by the Sith. That this was the kind of thing the Sith did all over the galaxy, that they’ve been doing it for thousands of years. Since as far back as there is history.”

“Yeah, in different ways and forms.”

“Basically, the entire galaxy hates the Sith. Even some of their former allies,” Elza said. “And your family has stood against them several times. Your grandfather rebuilt this planet. He’s viewed as everything the Sith aren’t.

“So I don’t understand why you agreed to adopt us.”

“Because I meant everything I said on Kitokaime. You are not responsible for what your ancestors did, good or bad. I’m not responsible for my ancestors either,” Falene said. “Did that tutor tell you about my mother?”

“The one we met at your country house in the forest? With the white hair?” Elza asked to confirm she knew who they were talking about.

“Yes, her.”

“She was Prime Minister. She was this planet’s leader,” Elza said.

“She was. Did that tutor how many beings she killed?” Falene asked.

“She killed beings?” Elza echoed.

“Not with her hands, but when she was Prime Minister some Bakurans didn’t agree with her vision for Bakura,” Falene said. “She could have accommodated them. She didn’t.She went to war instead. Some historians will say that she didn’t start it, others will tell you she really did. What matters is that she ordered armies into battle that cost hundreds of thousands of lives. She personally approved a scorched earth policy to end the rebellion.”

“She did what it took to win then,” Elza said.

“That’s one way of looking at it. She also decided the principles that she believed in were more important than the lives of other beings,” Falene said. “Some say she’s one of the greatest leaders of Bakura ever. I still don’t know if I do. All I know is that she did these things and she gave birth to me.

“You are your own person. You get decide who you are and that’s what the galaxy should judge you for. That’s how I want to be judged. What my mother did and does isn’t what I do. That’s why I don’t think that because beings who lived a century ago believed something that the galaxy hates means that I should hate you--or anyone else should for that matter.

“And because I believe that so strongly, I told the entire Kurtzen people that I would accept responsibility for your lives. They were ready to kill you for what other beings did and I couldn’t allow that to happen. I would have never forgiven myself if I had. If I push you three hard sometimes, it’s because I feel that responsibility very acutely.”

“But you did that knowing that we have killed Kurtzen,” Elza said.

“You killed for the same reason that a gundark kills. To survive,” Falene said. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” Elza asked.

“It is,” Falene assured her daughter. She just wished she felt so sure of it herself.

 

Falene seems to cope and agree with her new mother role. I hope the three youngsters will, too.