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  1. In Memory of LAJ_FETT: Please share your remembrances and condolences HERE

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

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction- Before, Saga, and Beyond' started by Trieste, Apr 8, 2014.

  1. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 leiamoody NightWatcher91 Tim Battershell Vehn

    Salis D’aar, Bakura

    Falene ran her hands through her hair. She couldn’t believe this was still going on. She wished it had been a brutal limmie game, even one with the pain of injury. That would have been more pleasant than what she was going through right now. No, this was worse than that.

    This was the financial dealings of the Noble House of Trieste.

    Her Uncle Ronan had come down from Nouvelle Orleans to go over the quarterly report on the health of investments and income. As Taoiseach, Falene owned the Noble House’s aggregate property. It was her responsibility to keep an eye on this property and ensure it was doing what she wanted. In the model of Taoiseachs who had come before her, Falene’s primary goal was protecting the principle while generating income to sustain her family in their pursuits. Like her mother before her, Falene had turned to Ronan to oversee the day-to-day administration of the Noble House investments. It was his forte, his life’s work. He had once been the head of the Eden Banking Group, one of the largest galactic financial institutions. He had been managing things for nearly 30 years and had done an admirable job of it. For her part, Falene wanted to trust Ronan, but he insisted that these briefings were necessary.

    The beginning was always interesting enough. The largest single asset of the Noble House was the Bakura Miners limmie team, on which Falene played. Though Falene could have inflated the payroll of the team using the House’s assets, she had kept to her mother’s strategy of an internal salary cap to ensure a constant stream of credits to the Noble House from the team. It had been a constant temptation to disregard this system, but the institution of the Elite League Limmie Draft ten years ago had helped significantly to keep payroll costs down.

    Everything after that was downhill. The investments of the Noble House were myriad. Falene barely remembered them all. There were major positions in companies like The Rivers department store, Bakur RepuslorCorp, biotech companies, medical device companies, pleasure cruise lines, financial institutions...Falene lost the thread after that. Her uncle’s presentation outlined everything, though her head began swimming when he talked about various funds, she didn’t even remember what.

    There were graphs and charts, projections, recommendations to invest or divest, strategy decisions…

    “Enough!” Falene shouted suddenly.

    Ronan stopped in midpresentation and looked at his niece. “Falene?”

    “I don’t care Ronan! I don’t care!” Falene said, “None of this means anything to me! You’ve been doing a fantastic job and I’m not going to disagree with anything that you suggest. Why do we have to do this?”

    “Because the Taoiseach needs to know where the credits are. That’s part of your responsibility,” Ronan said.

    “No, what this Taoiseach needs to know Rydonni Prime’s offensive scheme and how I’m going to stop playoff MVP Maggie Adams,” Falene said, “and that’s exactly what I’m thinking about the entire time that we’re talking here. I’m not going to remember whatever you tell me here. I’ll forget it the moment that you leave.”

    “I know that this isn’t your strength but your mother--”

    “Had over 20 years of government budget experience,” Falene interrupted, “She had more cause to understand this stuff than I did and more use.”

    “Falene, I know you can do this,” Ronan said.

    “Then why do I even have you?” Falene said. She sighed. “My point is that I don’t want to do this anymore.”

    “Being Taoiseach is not about indulging your wants, Falene,” Ronan said.

    “And when you’re Taoiseach you don’t have to listen to lectures if you don’t want to,” Falene said firmly, “I’m instituting a new procedure for these reviews. Two page written summaries with high points. That’s all I care about and all I need to know.”

    “Falene, we are talking about billions of credits. There’s no way--”

    “Your Taoiseach is telling you to find a way,” Falene said, standing, “We’re done here.”

    Ronan paused before turning off the holoprojector. “As you wish.” He began to gather his things. “By the way, if it will help, keep your feet moving.”

    “Hmmm?”

    “Adams. She’s speedy. Keep your feet moving and you’ll keep up with her,” Ronan said.

    Falene smiled. “Duly noted. Thanks Uncle Ronan.”

    “Anything for my Taoiseach.”
     
  2. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 leiamoody NightWatcher91 Tim Battershell Vehn

    Cape Suzette, Bakura

    “Most beings don’t invite their mothers to their college house parties,” Regan told her 21 year old daughter.

    “Trixie has never been most beings,” Atticus observed in his sage, fatherly way with a look of affection at his daughter, troublesome though she may sometimes be.

    “Are you kidding? This is going to be the greatest party in the history of parties!” Horst Penn said, “Not inviting you would be like not inviting the President of Bakura.”

    At this point nobody was going to bother to let Horst know that Bakura had a Prime Minister, not a President, unless it was Trixie who would have asked Horst to elaborate on where he’d sent the invitation to. Any attempt at educating Horst on the particulars of Bakuran society, politics, culture, or really any other aspect of life was now deemed to be an uphill struggle at best and a futile effort at worst.

    “And I thought that seeing as my Mom got you that massive new contract, it would probably be a good idea to be nice to her,” Trixie added, though she characteristically seemed displeased to admit this.

    “You should have invited Quinn Cundertol then,” Regan said, “He handles the contract negotiations.”

    “I’m pretty sure you sign the checks,” Trixie pointed out.

    “Wait, what’s a check?” Horst asked.

    “It’s a figure of speech,” Trixie explained.

    “Are you sure? Maybe I need some checks.”

    “Trust me, you don’t.”

    “Well, all the same, glad to have you still with the team,” Atticus said, gently interrupting the banter, “You’ve been doing spectacularly this season, just keep it up.”

    “Now go socialize with people your own age and leave us ancient things here in the corner,” Regan said, “We’ll be fine.”

    “Oh yeah. Don’t we have that thing to do?” Horst asked Trixie.

    She just rolled her eyes and pulled Horst away.

    “The next time someone tells me that opposites don’t attract, I’m pulling out my holo of those two,” Atticus said to his wife.

    “I do not understand what she sees in him sometimes,” Regan said, “but she certainly seems happy, at least by Trixie standards.”

    “Trixie is happy in her own way. You and she are more alike than you might care to admit. Both driven, serious about what you do, disinclined to heed the opinions of others,” Atticus said.

    “Except in my case it’s legal opinions and in her case it’s anyone else’s opinion.”

    “I’d rather have a daughter who decides things for herself than one who cares too much about pleasing others.”

    “Ugh,” Regan said with a grimace, “That’d make her a Lynd or a Syfred-Trieste.”

    “Your nieces and nephews are charming,” Atticus said.

    “You didn’t grow up with their parents,” Regan pointed out.

    “Can we have everyone’s attention?” Trixie called. She had to call it a few times to be heard over the noise of the party. “Horst and I have something to say.”

    “Yeah. You’re all the most awesome beings in the galaxy,” Horst added, “which is why we’re friends with you. I mean, not as awesome as Han Solo, but I mean you’re still pretty awesome. Oooooh, or Boba Fett. He was awesome too. And Chewbacca!”

    “What Horst is trying to say,” Trixie said, interrupting him gently, “is that you all mean a lot to us. That’s why we invited you tonight. As you know, this is a party...but it’s a party for a specific purpose.”

    Regan suddenly wondered what her daughter was up to.

    “The reason you’re all here--” Trixie continued.

    “--is because we’re going to get married in 30 minutes!” Horst exclaimed, “Oh wait, sorry, you were going to say that. Sorry, I kind of got overexcited.”

    “Married?” Regan gasped, though not loud enough that the entire room could hear her.

    “So we’re going to get some chairs in here and get things set up, so just hang out, have another drink, and we’ll be back soon,” Trixie told the party, which cheered.

    “Married?” Regan repeated.

    “Let’s get you outside for a moment,” Atticus said, leading his shocked wife out of the room. Had she not been so floored, she probably wouldn’t have been as easy to get out of there.



    The shock wore off rapidly.

    “She is 21 years old Atticus! Getting married? Now?!” Regan demanded, “We need to stop this. Right now. Trixie is making a terrible decision. Absolutely terrible. We have to get in there, right now.”

    “Regan, I need you to stop right now and take a deep breath,” Atticus said.

    “That is ridi--”

    “Take a deep breath,” her husband said sternly.

    With a look that clearly conveyed that she was not amused, Regan complied.

    “Now,” Atticus continued before his wife could begin again, “you are correct--they are both pretty young, especially Trixie. But they are adults. She might be our child, but she is still an adult. And the last time I checked, age has no monopoly on wisdom when it comes to these things. They’ve got just as much chance to make it as anyone else, maybe even a better one because we know our daughter. She might be contrary and difficult, but she is not impulsive. Really, when you think about it, even planning a surprise wedding takes a lot of thought and effort. And she made sure we were both here for it. She knew us well enough to know that she had to do that.”

    Regan said nothing and looked off into the night. “This doesn’t feel right, Atticus,” she said, her voice high with tension.

    “This is our only daughter that’s about to get married. It was always going to be hard for this to feel right,” Atticus said, hugging his wife.

    “It could feel better,” she replied.

    “For us, but it feels good enough for her. That’s what will matter.”

    “You know, we joked about marrying our kids off for massive dowries that one time. It was when Ginnifer came out, I think,” Regan said.

    “I remember.”

    “I suppose the Miners’ star full back is as good a catch as any,” Regan observed.



    “I, Horst Penn, take you, Patrixa Eldred, to be my wife and sidekick. I promise to love you, support your plans for galactic domination, never do laundry, and be a distraction when you attempt to steal the crown jewels of Empress Teta.”

    “I, Patrixa Eldred, take you, Horst Penn, to be my husband and sidekick. I promise to love you, never criticize your limmie play even when you are terrible, always remind you where to find pizza, and go along with your random and spur-of-the-moment ideas.”

    It was a very Horst and Trixie kind of wedding.
     
  3. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    Senate offices, Salis D’aar, Bakura

    Despite the recent revolt, Senate offices were still assigned on the basis of seniority and the sophomore Senators from Telaan Valley and West Cape Suzette had received no upgrade in their offices since wresting their chairmanships from the hands of others.

    What few people outside of the capitol corridors knew was that the Rules Committee also included oversight of government buildings. The new Rules Committee Chairman had some ideas about how he and his wife’s offices that his predecessor had not. For example, the Senate had a standing agreement to borrow art from the Bakura’s national gallery. It was usually only exercised for select Senators so as to prevent wholescale poaching of portraiture that would temporarily deprive the public of these great works of art. Declan had decided that committee chairs most definitely deserved this privilege--at least the chairs of the Rules and Appropriations committees.

    His office now featured large and impressive portraits of his forebearers Nevan Trieste (multi-administration Minister of State and Laurel Prize for Peace recipient) and Lennon Trieste (former Deputy Prime Minister). Ayn had requisitioned her grandmother’s official Deputy Prime Minister portrait for her office, contenting herself with that.

    In addition to the art, new furniture had been pulled out of storage. It was grander, more impressive, and naturally befitting committee chairs. They also seemed to cry out for larger offices--which no doubt would be assigned at the first available opportunity.

    Today the couple were lunching under the eyes of Sabé Dormingale, which had the penetration expected of the woman who had wrangled the Senate into passing Kerry Trieste’s ambitious legislative agenda for over a decade.

    “Terrible disappointment for Henrietta and Antrose,” Ayn said, “Rained the entire wedding weekend in Nouvelle Orleans.”

    “Of course it did. You know that city is a glorified swamp,” Declan pointed out.

    “Don’t say that when the Syfred-Triestes can hear or they’ll want to drown you in one,” Ayn said.

    “I’m more concerned about the Senators from there doing that,” Declan said.

    Ayn shrugged. “They’re a passionate populace.”

    “The real shame is that Trixie was the one really raining on their parade. Got married on a lark before them, grabbed the headlines. Henrietta was likely furious,” Declan said.

    “More likely her mother was. I’ve heard she’s not without ambition,” Ayn said, “She’ll be one to watch.”

    “She could present useful openings into Geso City in circles that don’t have to go through Aunt Siona.”

    “Perhaps. I’d be wary of being in debt to her,” Ayn said.

    “Well, Henrietta looked happy enough during the event. She and Antrose do make a good show together. Wouldn’t want to be Jane Serena. Now she’ll be getting the always-a-bridesmaid thing from the media,” Declan said.

    Ayn let that remark pass as she leafed through a holozine.

    “General election coming up for the Republic,” Ayn observed idly. Their lunches were rarely spent purely pursuing pleasure. Though they had seized more power, they had also seized more responsibility. Those who had resented the way the Senators Trieste had gotten where they were would not hesitate to point out if they were failing in their duties. “Care to make a wager?” she followed up with the same apparent lack of interest.

    “Elections are rarely worth betting on. With the state of polling it’s not as much of a surprise as most beings think it is when someone wins,” Declan said, “Now sports--for every statistic we have there that’s much harder to handicap.”

    “Usually you’re right,” Ayn said, “but I’d peg three major candidates with a chance of making the runoff.”

    Declan put down his sandwich and thought. “Let me see...Monroe?”

    “Yes.”

    “...Kloss.”

    “Absolutely.”

    “And…” Declan paused. He snapped his fingers as the name was just on the outside of his periphery. “Ombra.”

    “Agreed.”

    “Who do you like?”

    “Equivoca Ombra is a sitting Senator. Very pro-business, wants to expand Republican trade,” Ayn said.

    “Cousin Eleanor would like her. Might push for a new Federation trade deal,” Declan said.

    “Questionable if she’s thinking that big. She’s focused thus far on Carratos. She’s wanted to cut down on smuggling, so she has the law and order vote,” Ayn said, “Very pro-export.

    “That’ll play well in the Core. She has some major money moving behind her, doesn’t she?”

    “Quite. It’s allowed her to get quite a bit of publicity outside Carratos during the runup,” Ayn said.

    “I’d put credits on her if Kloss wasn’t in the race. A lot of Core support is going to move behind her,” Declan said, referencing K.C. Kloss, the former Coruscanti Galactic Senator, “She’s angling for Rim votes by through strong agriculture protections for outlying worlds if I recall correctly.”

    “Wants to lower tax burdens somewhat but dedicate more for local infrastructure and communities,” Ayn said.

    “There’ll be questions about whether she can keep a balanced budget with ideas like that,” Declan said, “but it’s been done.”

    “Jaames Monroe is the feel-good candidate,” Ayn said, “He’s spearheaded strong investment in Ralltiir’s public spaces over his career. He hasn’t made a lot of enemies and has never run a negative campaign.”

    “Let me guess: light on substance?” Declan queried.

    “Some have called him that,” Ayn admitted.

    “So, of those three…” Declan allowed his voice to trail off as he thought. “Are we going to make a wager?”

    “If you’re brave enough,” Ayn said coyly.

    “I take Kloss,” Declan said, “There’s not a lot of establishment anger this year. Being a Coruscant insider isn’t a liability. Kloss can run on a record of getting things done.”

    “Ombra,” Ayn said, selecting her side, “Sitting Senator, deep warchest, and an expansionary trade vision. It’ll play well with the Rim, who will see opportunity.”

    “I’ll go one step further--I bet that Kloss and Monroe will be the runoff,” Declan said, leaning in.

    “You’re not even going to give my candidate the chance to come in second?” Ayn asked, arching an eyebrow provocatively.

    “Nope. She’ll run behind Kloss, who dominates the Core vote,” Declan said.

    “Then I’m taking Monroe and Ombra coming out of the general. Kloss’s votes move largely to Ombra in the runoff,” Ayn said.

    “Usual bet?” Declan said, extending a hand.

    “Usual bet,” she agreed, shaking it.
     
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  4. AzureAngel2

    AzureAngel2 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Jun 14, 2005
    “Usual bet?” Declan said, extending a hand.

    “Usual bet,” she agreed, shaking it.

    To wager in politics can be a dangerous thing. I wonder how this will end. [face_whistling]
     
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  5. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 leiamoody NightWatcher91 Tim Battershell Vehn and closing the loop with galactic-vagabond422 Jedi Gunny and Runjedirun

    Salis D’aar, Bakura

    Ayn and Declan sat on their couch in disbelief. Declan’s mouth hung open. The news that was coming across on the Holonet was shocking.

    “...a massive celebration here at campaign headquarters with the election results certified. It’s the sort of victory that hasn’t been seen for decades, perhaps generations. We are witnessing the birth of a new galactic political powerhouse right now. Supporters are besides themselves given the overwhelming margin of victory today.”

    “This is impossible,” Declan said.

    “Nobody’s done this since your mother’s second election to the Chancellery,” Ayn said, “and she was a sitting Chancellor. Nobody does this right out of the gate.”

    Declan ran a hand through his hair as the feed went back to the main HSN studio.

    “In case you’re just joining us, there will be no runoff election for Supreme Chancellor of the Republic,” the anchor said. “Jaames Monroe of Ralltiir has swept the general election commanding 58% of the vote. His next closest competitor was Equivoca Ombra, Senator for Carratos, who brought in 21% of the vote. Coming in third is K.C. Kloss, former Senator for Coruscant. The three commanded 91% of the total vote between them. Thanks to his surprise win, Monroe will have extra time to put together his Chancellery before his inauguration later this year. A Coruscant outsider, Monroe will now have to focus on getting the Galactic Senate to support his legislative agenda.”

    “Think he can do it?” Ayn asked.

    “What? Get the Senate on his side?”

    “Yes.”

    “It’ll take more than good feelings to do that. Kloss or Ombra would have had connections. He’s going to have to forge relationships now. If he doesn’t accept how business gets done…”

    “But 58%,” Ayn repeated. “I’m as pragmatic as you dear, but he’s clearly tapped into something bigger than any one politician.” She paused. “So...about our bet…”

    “I’d call it a push, dear.”

    “Ombra did beat out Kloss in results,” Ayn pointed out, “and I did say that Ombra would run ahead of Kloss.”

    “Your bet was Ombra and Monroe in a runoff, not Ombra ahead of Kloss. Push.”

    “I’ll push you,” Ayn said, making good on that statement in a lighthearted way.

    “Election fraud! Election fraud!” Declan hollered. “Somebody save me!”
     
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  6. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    You've all been patient and I've finally cranked something out for you. A little bit of Lynd drama for CPL_Macja, a touch of Mandalorian reference for Bardan_Jusik, some Hapan stuff for jcgoble3, and hopefully enough fun for AzureAngel2 leiamoody NightWatcher91 and Tim Battershell with the general Trieste drama. ;)

    Gesco City, Bakura

    “There’s nothing on,” Ginnifer lamented.

    “No, I just don’t get any channels,” Rickard corrected.

    “And you still haven’t fixed that.”

    “Nope.”

    Of late, Ginnifer had made it a point to spend time in Rickard’s apartment, even if it was perhaps a closer to a hovel rather than an apartment. She felt that he’d come to the Lynd home enough that someone should treat where he lived like a place worth being. After all, he lived there. Ginny was all about subtle messages.

    She flipped through the evening’s offerings, purposefully discounting the war holos. Ginnifer knew that it wasn’t something that Rickard wanted to dwell on.

    “The Blasters of Alvaronne. You see that one?” Rickard asked, picking out one of the selections that Ginnifer had skipped. “It’s pretty good.”

    She turned around, blinking in surprise. “That’s only two years old. I didn’t think you’d have seen it.”

    “I liked it,” Rickard said casually. “Good cast, decent effects. The script was a bit stilted at time, but the actors carried it.”

    “I thought you didn’t watch war movies,” Ginnifer said, pulling her knees up onto the couch as she twisted to look at Rickard in what (barely) passed as a kitchen.

    “No, I watch them sometimes.”

    “From what Cillian said I thought...I thought it was too painful.”

    “It’s not pleasant to think about,” Rickard admitted as he worked on putting together something for dinner, cutting up foodstuffs with a kitchen vibroknife. “The way it ended...but I’ve started to let that go. You said it yourself, ever since May did my face I can’t keep dwelling on the past, pretending like I’m not different. It’s something that will always be a part of me, but it’s not something that defines me anymore.

    “There were good things that came out of the war. Terrible things too, beings I knew who died for no reason other than perhaps the ambition of beings who never set foot on the Imperium’s worlds. But good things still.

    “I found a place where I belonged. Deadly though it was, I found something I was good at. Really good at.”

    “Do you wish you could go back in?” Ginnifer asked. “You could now.”

    “No. I don’t have the heart--” Rickard stopped, pausing his cutting. “I don’t have the desire to pull the trigger anymore. The cost seems too high, even if I’m supposed to be protecting something every time I take a shot.”

    He started his work on the cutting board again. “I met the Mandalorians in the war. I never knew how accepting they were as a people. Species, gender, orientation, it means nothing to them. They judge a being by their actions.”

    “And how many other beings they kill.”

    “‘Be polite, be professional, and always have a plan to kill everyone you meet.’ One of them said that. Kind of liked him,” Rickard admitted.

    “But more than that,” he continued, “I met beings like your brother because of what we went through. I know it was hard for your family to see him go, but he got me through what came after the war. I’ll never be able to repay him for that. Here was a member of the Noble House who had suffered like me. Rich beings weren’t fighting that war, like most wars. To have someone who’d left all this behind meant something. As terrible as war is, when beings like Cillian take part in it like that, it’s a great leveler. It reminds us all how much we have in common. Your cousins would probably have a heart attack if anyone suggested it, but that’s the rationale for a draft. Break down barriers between classes through service to your homeworld. Learn about your other beings. We’d be better off as a planet if there were more beings like your brother. Meeting him in the hospital, after the war, with a government issue arm...it made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”

    Rickard looked up to discover Ginnifer quietly crying on the couch wiping her eyes. “What did I say?”

    “Nothing,” Ginnifer said through her tears. “That’s just so beautiful and you’re making me have all these emotions right now.”

    He put down the vibroknife and came over to the couch to sit next to her. “As usual I’m messing things up again.”

    “No, you never mess things up,” Ginnifer assured him, even though she was still crying.

    “Yes, I am. I made you cry and that ruins everything.”

    “Ruins what?”

    “I can’t very well give you this after dinner like I was planning to,” Rickard said, taking the braided silver chain out of his pocket. It was the traditional Bakuran engagement gift.

    Ginnifer just started crying again, but these tears were of a vastly different sort than the ones that had preceded it.



    Hapes

    “I knew it would only be a matter of time,” Trellam said before he kissed his wife again.

    Sierra nodded. If she hadn’t known what to say the first time she’d gotten pregnant, she definitely didn’t know what to say this time.
    All she could manage was, “I hope it’s a girl.”

    “My mother hopes it’s a girl,” Trellam said, “but I don’t care. We will love our sons as much as our daughters.”

    “Love…” Sierra stood, letting her husband’s arms fall away from her. She crossed to the balcony of her room. “As if love had anything to do with this.”

    “It has everything to do with us, with our children,” Trellam said, standing. “How could you say otherwise?”

    “Because I am the chume’da and billions, trillions of beings expect a girl, will venerate her. I want to love our sons but how can we when we don’t live our lives for ourselves anymore?”

    “You had to know that loving me meant that things would be expected of us,” Trellam said, taking his wife’s hands gently.

    “Not like this!” Sierra said, jerking them away. “You had an aunt and cousins standing between you and the throne! That’s the man I married! We could still have had a life, been somewhat normal. That’s gone now! The moment that coup began I lost what life I had! I never asked for this!” She banged her fists on his chest.

    “I know. I know.” He caught her wrists. “I understand. But this is the hand we’ve been dealt.”

    “It’s an Idiot’s Array, that’s what it is.”

    “All we have to do is love each other, love our family. We’ll deal with everything else as it comes.”

    “If I don’t produce a daughter, Trellam...if I can’t…” Sierra trailed off into tears.

    “There there,” he said, enveloping her into a hug. “Don’t you remember? It’s all on me. It’s my X gene you need, not hers. It’ll be all my fault.”

    But still Sierra cried. She thought about the first time she had this conversation with Trellam. Then it had been hard because of the fact that she was likely not speaking to the father of her child. It turned out it was harder having it with the being who definitely was the father. Emotions thrashed inside of her, chiefly guilt.

    It was a deep, abiding guilt about whether she should have ever done what she’d done to get pregnant the first time.
     
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  7. jcgoble3

    jcgoble3 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Nov 7, 2010
    Excellent. Glad to see Ginny and Rickard get engaged. :D And I'm hoping for a girl too. Not sure I want to see what happens to the C-Bucs if the crown gets thrown into chaos for lack of a successor. :p (Though it probably would be fun to write, but I'm still hoping for a girl. ;))
     
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  8. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    Assuming there are no far-off distant female heirs, technically the wife of their firstborn male son would inherit the Consortium--assuming that I've properly interpreted their laws of succession.
     
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  9. Vehn

    Vehn Force Ghost star 4

    Registered:
    Sep 14, 2009
    Great post as usual! I was hoping we'd see more of the Trieste saga unfold ;). As is par for the course I was not disappointed.
     
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  10. AzureAngel2

    AzureAngel2 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Jun 14, 2005
    “‘Be polite, be professional, and always have a plan to kill everyone you meet.’ One of them said that. Kind of liked him,” Rickard admitted.

    I still love your SW version of "House of Cards". Great, that you let Hapes politics flow into the plot as well! :D
     
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  11. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    Believe it or not, I lifted that one from US Marine Corps Major General James Mattis. He was quite a character. ;)
     
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  12. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    So I promised jcgoble3 that the next installment would have an Ayn and Declan update...but that'll be next time. Had to hit some pertinent news first. ;) AzureAngel2 leiamoody NightWatcher91 Tim Battershell and Vehn



    Bakura Fleet Academy, Bakura

    They were the old powerhouse of the conference--and they were back.

    The Bakura Fleet Academy churned out young officers for the Bakuran Defense Fleet in the stars and the Marines on the ground. Once upon a time, it had been the limmie school on Bakura, and that tradition have been carried forward by the being they called “the Arielle Schoolmaster”, Robbard Mc’Alpine, a being who had been considered the last time the local pro team, the Bakura Miners, had been looking for a head coach. He accepted no excuses and brooked no failure.

    No one knew this better than Ensigns second year reserve right half forward Enoch Trieste.

    “Grind! Grind!” Mc’Alpine shouted from the sideline at his players. Some of his contemporaries thought him too hard on his players, perhaps even cruel. These were student-athletes, they said. “No, they are future officers of the line who will be the only thing standing between you and enslavement to the saurians one day. They will not be handled with kid gloves by the Imperium and they will get no sympathy from me,” Mc’Alpine once icily replied to a detractor. “Greatness is forged, not gifted.”

    The life of an ensign was hard, but the life of an Ensign was harder. On top of everything expected of a Fleet Academy student (and expectations were high) were the grueling practices and the lack of compassion. Practice was never canceled. Once it had been held in a hurricane, rumor went.

    “You think it’s hard playing now? Imagine aiming your weapon at an enemy bearing down on you at 100 klicks a minute?” Mc’Alpine had supposedly shouted at his students. “UBTV Pioneers give up in this weather but not my Force-forsaken team!”

    In the curious way that young minds worked, Mc’Alpine’s team, known on campus as “Mc’Alpine’s Fusiliers”, was fiercely loyal to him. Even though they hadn’t won a championship in a decade, they followed the Schoolmaster’s commands unquestioningly and threw themselves at every opponent with everything they had for all 60 minutes. The rest of the conference had come to learn that were no gift points against the Ensigns. The UBCS Blue Birds, their nearby rivals, had discovered this firsthand today.

    As a reserve, Enoch Trieste had not played at the start of the game. He had been told when he joined the team that he would not play much. In fact, Mc’Alpine had refused to take him for anything but practice duty at first. “I don’t need some soft-hands, silver spoon Trieste on my team. Don’t they take the likes of you at UBSD?” Mc’Alpine had sneered. This was despite the fact that Mc’Alpine’s ultimate boss, Superintendent Fiona Westenra, was Enoch’s aunt and had been a half back on the Ensigns in her time at the Academy.

    Enoch has not been deterred. He took hits on practice squads. He started goading the varsity Ensigns into hitting him harder. “That’s how you hit? Even the Colonials hit better than that and their parents are paying beings to hit for them!” Eventually, Mc’Alpine saw fire in Enoch’s eyes and knew that the second year was ready to play.

    Of the three children of Ronan and Mandy, Enoch had never quite found his place. When one’s elder sister was a pop star, it was easy to be lost in the shuffle. Playing limmie was hard when you had two cousins in the ELL and both had won Galactic Cups. He’d come to the Academy because he needed to be part of something bigger, something that would truly accept him, and he’d found it. Every ensign at the academy was his brother and sister. He would walk through the fires of Mustafar for them--knowing it was a distinct possibility that he’d be called upon to do so.

    That made playing limmie easy.

    The Blue Birds, coached by Galactic Cup champion Mick Hancock, were utterly destroyed by the Ensigns, who were romping their way to a 9-0 conference record. Despite the fact he was a forward, Enoch’s job was not to score, but to block. He put opposing defenders into the ground so the skill forwards could do their work unmolested. Like any good soldier, he knew his role and he devoted himself to it. It turned out Enoch was good at it. He’d put on 20 pounds since joining the Academy and though he wasn’t overly tall, he was fast becoming the sort of being you didn’t want to meet in a dark alley.

    When the game was over, Enoch had the privilege of being on the field, banged and bruised. They were onto the Carnation Bowl, the greatest game in collegiate limmie.

    Mc’Alpine smiled. As always he was never building a limmie team. He was building weapons of war. Small beings played for the Carnation Bowl. Robbard Mc’Alpine played a larger game.



    On the other side of the stadium, in the dejected section that was the UBCS fans who had made the short trip to see their team lose against their rival sat Horst and Trixie Penn, the seats around them emptying fast. Among the UBCS students, they were a rare married couple. It was only thanks to the Miners’ bye week that he was able to join Trixie for the rivalry game.

    “Man, that wasn’t very fun,” Horst said. “Then again we won a lot at U of A.”

    “Stupid Academy with their stupid uniforms,” Trixie groaned. “Enoch will be impossible at the next family game.”

    “I could slide tackle him,” Horst suggested helpfully.

    “You should totally do that!” Trixie said excitedly. “Maybe you can break something.”

    “But that would be super mean, honey bunny.”

    “Like a leg!”

    “Now you know you don’t mean that.”

    “You’re right. An arm!”

    “You are so silly,” Horst said.

    “Not as silly as you,” Trixie replied, ruffling his hair. “But seriously, an arm?”

    “But doesn’t the Cosmic Balance say that what goes around comes around? I mean, I didn’t read that Fulcrum you gave me, but that sounds like it should be in there. I think I heard it on the HoloNet or something.”

    “Something like that,” Trixie said. The truth was that though she enjoyed limmie, it was not the end all, be all of life like it seemed to be for other members of her family.

    There was something much more important to her. Inside her purse was the neatly folded flimsi she had received days earlier. It hadn’t left her immediate vicinity since.

    Dear Ms. Eldred, (for this process had begun before her marriage)

    We are delighted to offer you admission to Tiarest University School of Law…

    Enoch could have his Carnation Bowl. Trixie played for higher stakes.
     
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  13. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    @AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 (making good on that promise!) leiamoody NightWatcher91 Tim Battershell Vehn



    Salis D’aar, Bakura

    “Careful dear or they’re going to call you a tax and spend liberal,” Declan warned.

    “This Prime Minister would have to sign these bills in whole for that to take place,” Ayn said, “and as it is most of these appropriations get line-item vetoes.”

    “Ah, but you’ve done your part, haven’t you?” Declan observed.

    His wife was doing what both of them hated--bringing work home. However, the Senate was going into recess soon and Ayn made it a point not to leave appropriations bills in committee. Her fellow Senators liked being able to go back to their districts and talk about how they’d successfully gotten whatever pet project benefited their voters through the Senate. As Chairwoman of the Appropriations Committee, it seemed Ayn Trieste hadn’t met a spending bill she didn’t like.

    “And you doing your part is all according to the plan,” Declan continued, coming up from behind his wife on the couch to bend and put his arms around her neck.

    “As is the Prime Minister vetoing all of these. I’d never put the budget this far out of balance, but he’s not about to give our party everything we want,” Ayn said, “unless, of course, we give him something in return.” That was the real business of government--getting the right spending bills approved and passed to keep society functioning. As Appropriations Chair and assistant whip, Ayn knew exactly which bills they needed and which ones were going to go down for defeat.

    The scenario was simple: play by the rules and your spending bills might get bundled into the compromises that passed some of the Unionists’ appropriations, the kind that the PM wouldn’t use his line-item veto on. Ayn had made this very clear. Her caucus was the liberal arm of the Young Blasters and they knew that Ayn rewarded loyalty. She had their votes on the floor when she needed them and she released them when she didn’t. She knew when to push and when to let go. In fact, Ayn knew just as much about their districts as they did--maybe more. The unforgivable sin was to ask Ayn for dispensation to vote contrary to the way she wanted on the grounds that “my voters won’t support that” only to be called out by Ayn to the contrary. It had happened once and the Senator in question had gotten a terse and relatively public reply from the Appropriations chair. He hadn’t strayed ever since.

    “We’ve got to be careful dear. We can’t look fiscally irresponsible later on,” Declan said, still with his arms around his wife’s neck.

    “If you do your job, no one will pay attention to what I’m doing,” Ayn said. They both knew what she was doing: gathering favors. A favor in Salis D’aar was a good thing to have. It was the most valuable currency there was in the capital. “So you keep speechifying, my dear, and all will be well.”

    Now that he was Chairman of the Rules committee and had gained notoriety for sparking the internecine warfare of the start of the term, Declan had become the sort of Senator who garnered invitations to morning political talk shows and fundraising dinners. That he had a famous last name helped--but now he had something on his record that suggested he might be worthy of the legacy of the Noble House of Trieste. There were Senators whose life ambition was to be a Senator. They knew they had reached the apex of their career and that they were able representatives for their constituents. Declan Trieste did not seem like these Senators. He seemed like a being who was going places.

    This being who was going places unlaced his arms from around his wife and came around to sit next to her on the couch. “I’m addressing the teacher’s union at the Cape Suzette convention tomorrow, then to Atalanta after that. I’ll be back late tomorrow night.”

    “Atalanta?” Ayn asked. She looked away from her work. This was a deviation. The question in her voice conveyed a larger, unspoken question.

    “Did you know that our illustrious majority whip went to Atalanta University?” Declan quizzed his wife.

    “No...that’s very interesting…” Ayn said, the barest hint of a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I think Atalanta is supposed to be very nice this time of year.”

    “I’ll tell you tomorrow night,” Declan said.

    “And what about tonight?” Ayn asked. She set the appropriations bills to the side.

    “Tonight...I hadn’t made plans,” Declan said, edging closer to his wife.

    “You know, have I ever told you about the first time I saw you?” Ayn asked.

    “Plenty of times,” Declan asked as he began to lift her shirt over her head.

    “Do you know what I thought?” she continued, her voice becoming breathless and husky.

    “Yes,” he said as he disrobed.

    “That I needed your love,” Ayn breathed as she took her husband’s head in her hands and pressed it against her chest, closing her eyes and bending her head back as that familiar feeling swept over her.



    Atalanta, Bakura

    “Well...Sithspit.”

    Corrie Ypres and Quentin Eldred lay in bed together looking at the ceiling. This situation was not new to them. They had been here many times before. This time, however, was different.

    “That’s the last time I’m going to make love to you as a university student,” Corrie said. “This feels super weird. Did this happen to you last year?”

    “Never thought about it that way,” Quentin said.

    “I mean, I was still a student even if you weren’t,” Corrie said. Quentin could hear a patented Corrie ramble coming. “Even though we were the same age I was gone with the war and everything, so maybe it was the tiniest bit weird, but not really. But then again, I admittedly don’t think about it a whole lot. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? But maybe if I started thinking about it--”

    Quentin put a finger to Corrie’s lips. “I love you, but don’t ruin the moment.”

    “Actually, there was something I wanted to talk about,” Corrie said, rolling over.

    “You always want to talk about things. Whether you let me get a word in is another matter entirely,” Quentin pointed out.

    Corrie shoved Quentin’s face with her hand. “I’m being serious.” She laid her head on his chest and was, surprisingly, quiet for a moment. “I have to go back. To Druckenwell.”

    “But you wanted to get away from there,” Quentin said.

    “I did. And I do. But...my father’s lonely. I think it’s why he’s pouring himself into the Federation. I mean, he believes it and everything, but he was more concerned with the family fortune than anything. And I think...I think he knows that there was something about all that that caused me to leave. I just feel like he’s trying to be a different man and I need to go back.”

    “I don’t understand why.”

    “Because he’s going to have to leave the company to someone...and I’m the only one left. And I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s easier to make a difference when you call the shots than throwing stones at a permacrete bunker,” Corrie said.

    Quentin sighed. “Well...that’s…I don’t know…” He slid out of bed into a sitting position, leaving Corrie tangled in the sheets and looking at him. “I thought...I don’t know. I thought this was something and now you’re leaving.”

    “Quentin!” Corrie exclaimed, sharper than he’d ever heard her be before. “If you’d let me finish for once then maybe you’d hear me ask if you’ll come to Druckenwell with me!”

    “Druckenwell? I mean, what’s going to be there for me?”

    “I will be. You don’t know what kind of pull my father has. You can do anything there.”

    “A job from my girlfriend’s dad. Yeah, great for self esteem.”

    “Quentin, have you ever thought that maybe you need to get away from Bakura?” Corrie sat up so she could press herself against his back. “I know you’re close with your family, and I love them too, but there’s something...I don’t know. Not wrong, just not right. There’s only 80 million beings on this planet. It’s a small pond. I get the feeling it’s not large enough for all of you.”

    “Sierra left. She did all right for herself,” Quentin admitted.

    “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, to leave your homeworld behind, especially when I’m talking about going to my homeworld...but I think we’d do good things there.” Corrie hugged Quentin. “And maybe even amazing things.” She put her cheek against his shoulder. “And I’m going whether or not you’re coming because it’s what I have to do, but I’ll be better for it if you come with me.”

    Quentin thought about it for a couple seconds. “Okay.”

    “Really?”

    “Yeah. Nice thing about being a member of the Noble House of Trieste is that you get at least one screw up before you’re really in trouble. Now seems like the time to take a chance. Druckenwell here we come.”

    “Now that gives me an idea…” Corrie said, gently pulling Quentin back down to the bed.



    Somewhere in hyperspace

    “So you want to explain this?”

    Cillian Lynd squinted. “Fancy flimsi envelope...your name in flowy handwriting...I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you got yourself invited to my sister’s wedding. Nicely done, Swan. Though, a bit surprised that they didn’t think you’d be coming as my plus one. Then again, apparently you don’t send the best man an invitation because I didn’t get one.”

    “As usual, you are just a little bit off the mark.”

    “Hey, you were the one who put the coordinates into the navcomputer that time we were near Hypori,” Cillian said. “That’s on you.”

    “Not the point right now Cillian,” Swan said. She pulled another piece of flimsi out of the envelope. “Care to explain this?” She shoved it in his face.

    “That’s a bit too close, could you--”

    The Hapan pulled it back, but now too far for Cillian to see. “Your sister invited me to be one of her bridesmaids!” she shouted.

    “Well that’s fantastic. Don’t you get to wear a nice dress?”

    “No, you get to wear an ugly dress and that’s not the point!”

    “I didn’t think you’d stand for an ugly--” He got cut off by his first mate before he could finish.

    “The point is that a being I have met all of three times has invited me to be in her wedding!” Swan said, now very red in the face.

    “I admit, Ginny is a little impulsive,” Cillian pointed out.

    “Impulsive is deciding you’re going to buy a cute pair of slacks you saw on the Holonet. For the love of the Force, you are clearly a man,” Swan said, exasperation seeping out of her. “Females plan their weddings since the day they find out what a wedding is! I’d know. A Hapan wedding is slightly less ornate than a Naboo fresco. You don’t invite some random woman you’ve met three times to your wedding.”

    “But…”

    “Unless you think that woman is your brother’s long-term significant other!” Swan said.

    “No,” Cillian said quickly. “No. No no no. No no no no NO. We are not having that conversation right now.”

    “Stuck in hyperspace is exactly the time that we’re having this conversation because ever since Henrietta’s party on Bakura you have been avoiding this conversation like a bantha and a kryat dragon. We’re absolutely having this conversation now.”

    “Swan, we both got a little drunk and then we got well…into…you know.”

    “The word you’re looking for is ‘bed,’” Swan said, though her tone was not that of someone being purely helpful.

    “And the next morning we moved on because you and I make a good crew and we both didn’t want to ruin anything,” Cillian finished.

    “Now that’s a very convenient narrative,” Swan retorted. “Let’s try this one: I told you that I liked flying with you more than having my own ship, you responded with sex, and then you didn’t want to talk about it the next morning. Not just that, but you’ve steadfastly refused to say anything ever since. So what’s going on Cillian? And don’t give me the don’t-want-to-ruin-what-we-have excuse because we all know that’s Sithspit.”

    “Swan, I don’t want to talk about this,” Cillian said, turning away and pinching the bridge of his nose with his bionic hand.

    “Wrong answer!”

    “Swan—”

    “We’re not—”

    “Yes we are—”

    “Since when do you—”

    “Since I hired you—”

    “Cillian!”

    “Damn it Swan!” Cillian shouted, pounding his bionic hand against a bulkhead. “I’m just too damn scared that one day you’re going to leave!”

    That finally stopped the first mate. She actually pulled her head back a little bit in surprise. “What?”

    “If I ever admitted how I felt about you, then you were going to leave,” Lynd said. He turned away from Swan and braced himself against the cabin table.

    “Cillian, I was telling you I didn’t want to leave, that being with you was more important,” Swan said. She hesitated to come closer.

    “I know you, Swan. You deserve your own ship one day. It’s your destiny. Maybe you wouldn’t leave today or tomorrow or next month or next year, but one day I’d be holding you back. We’d know it and you’d hang around for a while because you’d tell yourself that you didn’t really want it, but it’d be a lie. And I’d know you were lying to yourself. Then I’ll spend every morning wondering if today would be the day that I’d hear that you’d be getting off at the next port. And I don’t know what I’d do then,” Cillian finished.

    “So you won’t even try?” Swan asked softly.

    Cillian said nothing. He just clenched his organic hand and put his hand down.

    Swan leaned her head against the bulkhead to feel the cool metal. “Well frak.”

    “Yeah. So glad we had this conversation,” Cillian said sarcastically.

    They remained silent for several seconds.

    “There’s only one thing to be done,” Swan sighed.

    “Next port?” Cillian asked, his heart dropping.

    “Don’t see why we should wait until then.”

    Cillian turned around. “I don’t even know where we are. You want to drop out of hyperspace in the middle of nowhere? Come on Swan. That’s just crazy.”

    “Why would we drop out of hyperspace?” Swan said, straightening up. “You can make me captain of this ship right now.”

    “Come again?” Cillian asked blinking.

    “I want to fly with you. You think I’ve got to be a captain. You own this ship. Well, demote yourself to first mater right now, promote me, and we can go to my cabin and get rid of all this tension right now,” Swan said.

    “Your cabin?”

    “Well, you’ll have to move out of the captain’s cabin, which is the biggest and clearly most suited for what we’re going to do.”

    Cillian stared at Swan. She looked back at him and arched a single eyebrow.

    “That is a terrible idea,” Cillian said. “A terribly good idea, that is.”

    The pair immediately started making up for lost time.
     
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  14. Vehn

    Vehn Force Ghost star 4

    Registered:
    Sep 14, 2009
    I'll admit that I really enjoy your writing Trieste but you knew that already. Now I'm even more intrigued as Corrie Ypres is headed back home to Druckenwell. I am very interested in what happens on that front.
     
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  15. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    [​IMG]
    "It's the smart move..." though I won't say Corrie was always smarter. ;)
     
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  16. AzureAngel2

    AzureAngel2 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Jun 14, 2005
    “Since I hired you—”

    “Cillian!”

    “Damn it Swan!” Cillian shouted, pounding his bionic hand against a bulkhead. “I’m just too damn scared that one day you’re going to leave!”

    That finally stopped the first mate. She actually pulled her head back a little bit in surprise. “What?”

    “If I ever admitted how I felt about you, then you were going to leave,” Lynd said. He turned away from Swan and braced himself against the cabin table.

    You always create such incredible dialogues. Some are emotional, others are smooth as ice, but all are witty. :D
     
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  17. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    And as always, it's nice of you to take the time to say so! :)
     
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  18. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 leiamoody NightWatcher91 Tim Battershell Vehn

    Prytis, Bakura

    When the first colonists touched down on Bakura, a debate began. They had found a world overflowing with natural resources, its mountains filled with ores and minerals useful to an expanding galaxy, but they had also found those mountains to be beautiful and breathtaking. Were the mountains better preserved for posterity and capitalized on for tourism or were the treasures buried in stone more valuable extracted.

    In the end, the decision had been made to mine Bakura’s natural resources. Even so, beautiful places remained. Some of them were small towns and one was Prytis. Early in Bakura’s history its woods had attracted beings who appreciated the charm of its deep, old woods. The small town that eventually sprung up amidst these woods eventually attracted not just one of Bakura’s preeminent universities but also the rich elite of the planet. Even though Prytis soon became dominated by large, private estates the town of Prytis itself was still small and homey. It was part of what the wealthy liked about the town.

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

    That was why she had decided to start her newest venture in the town. She had invited select members of the media to the opening of a small, discreet building that was the latest addition to Prytis.

    “One of the things about Bakura is that it sits at the edge of the known galaxy. Ever since Deredith Arden and the first colonists came here, it has represented the limit of the known universe. We call what lies beyond Wild Space, the Unknown Regions,” Falene said. “That’s been the case since the first Galactic Republic. It’s almost as if we got to Bakura and said, ‘This is far enough.’

    “I’ve always been fascinated by what lies beyond my homeworld. Yes, there are threats, but imagine the wonders, the worlds unexplored, waiting to be discovered. About a year ago, I realized that those worlds were still out there. More than that, I realized that I’m the Taoiseach of the Noble House of Trieste. If I think we should do something, then I can do it.

    “That’s why I’m pleased to open the Adventurers Club. It’s devoted to exploring the unknown, to filling in the dark spaces on the map. We want to add to what we know about the galaxy in so many ways. Honestly, beyond that, I don’t know what we’ll do. That’s why it’s an adventure.”

    “Falene, can anyone be a member?” a reporter asked.

    “A casual membership is available to all if you’d like to help fund expeditions. I’ve endowed the Club with an amount that will see us through for years. For those who actually want to get out there and discover things, who are serious about making this their life’s work there is a full explorer membership that you can apply to. Though we’re going to share what we discover with the galaxy through publications, the heart of the Club will be the core of these adventurers. This space here is designed to be a home base, a place for them to congregate, to plan, and to connect with kindred spirits.

    “And I’m going to be the first one.

    “Before the 283 limmie season and training camp I’ll be leading an expedition. Based on some astronomical mappings we’ve done from Bakura, we think we’ve discovered a new planet that can sustain most sentient life. I’m going to go see what’s there.”

    “Isn’t that dangerous?” a reporter asked.

    “Probably, but like I said, it’s an adventure,” Falene said.



    “The Adventurers Club,” Declan scoffed softly to his wife. “What a waste of credits.”

    “If it keeps your sister happy, that’s the only thing that’s important,” Ayn replied coolly and quietly.

    “Imagine what she’s draining from the Noble House accounts to make this endowment.”

    “Not our concern, dear,” Ayn said. “We said we’d do this without her money and we will.”

    “She has no sense of legacy,” Declan replied.

    “Hardly. She just has a different one than us,” Ayn said. “Now tell me, what did you learn in Atalanta?”

    “You’ll never guess…”



    “And what will your role with the Club be, Dr. Trieste?”

    “Well, my xenobiology is passable, so Falene’s asked me to be on the initial team if they have any specimens to examine. I doubt that I’ll be of much help. They’ll need clean rooms and scientists for that. An MD won’t be of much use,” May Trieste said. Falene had invited her to the opening and had indeed extended an earnest invitation to her cousin to be part of the founding adventurers.

    “Perhaps you’d be of more use if you were to accompany the flights?”

    “Perhaps,” May agreed, “but all the same I’ll remain here. There’s enough for me to do at Belden General.”

    “All the same, you let us know if your cousin shares anything interesting from her trips,” Phil Kol’sin said, patting May on the arm as he passed. “This is exactly the sort of thing S.P.E.A.R. like to keep an eye on…”
     
  19. jcgoble3

    jcgoble3 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Nov 7, 2010
    Very interesting! I look forward to seeing what comes of this. :D
     
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  20. Vehn

    Vehn Force Ghost star 4

    Registered:
    Sep 14, 2009
    Way to branch out!
     
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  21. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    Did you think with a generation called "the Captains of Bakura" things weren't going to be interesting? [face_laugh]
     
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  22. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    AzureAngel2 jcgoble3 leiamoody NightWatcher91 Tim Battershell Vehn

    Nouvelle Orleans, Bakura

    There had been high hopes on the part of those with liberal opinions during the resettlement of Bakura in the 220s that perhaps this time there would be a more diverse population. Species other than humans would thrive on the world, which had hitherto been 90% Human.

    By the 230s, it was clear this was not to be. Bakura was actually even more human than it had been before the Sith devastation. Then there had been a little less than 10% of the populace that had been Kurtzen, the native species of the world. During the occupation, the Kurtzen had been slaughtered. Whether it was humano-centrism on the part of the Sith leaders or the fact that the Kurtzen had—as the stories went—enabled much of the resistance to the Sith rule didn’t matter. What did matter was that when the rubble of the planet had been picked through, not a single Kurtzen had been left alive.

    The memory of Bakura’s xenophobic tendencies had not been erased with the orbital bombardment the Sith rained down on the world. Though beings had flooded to Bakura and eventually swelled its population beyond pre-occupation levels, few of them had been non-Human.

    That made it that much more unexpected that Jane Serena Trieste, Bakura’s foremost pop culture icon, would call a Cathar her best friend.

    Like others of her race, Lennai went by just a single name. Her family had come to Bakura after their civil war when the federal government rebuilt the lands that it had ravaged, chief among them Arielle county which had held out against a Union blockade for months. Nouvelle Orleans had been ravaged and with government funds flowing there as a demand for skilled builders and tradesbeings. Lennai’s mother had these skills and the decision was made to move the family here. They had stayed after the work was complete and became one of the few non-Human residents of Bakura.

    Lennai and Jane Serena met before the latter became famous and were still friends partially because it was how Jane Serena got away from her public life and persona. Lennai had known her before then, was her age, and was normal. She needed beings like that in her life. For her part, Lennai got to do things and go places with Jane Serena that ordinary beings could never hope to have access to. It was a good tradeoff for each and that didn’t even take into account the fact that they enjoyed each other’s company.

    “You know what I was thinking,” Jane Serena said.

    “Uh oh,” Lennai deadpanned. She moved the bottle of wine further away from Jane Serena.

    “Hey now,” Jane Serena said with a frown.

    “Every time you begin a sentence with ‘you know what I was thinking,’ you’ve a) had more than enough to drink and b) are about to suggest something that we’re both going to regret.”

    “I think you meant a) am coming up with my best ideas and b) am about to make a suggestion that we’re going to do.”

    “Well, if we don’t do it, we can’t regret it later,” Lennai sighed.

    “Next time I do a music holo, we should totally get together with all our friends and make a mini-holo. Kind of like a trailer, but way more awesome. We’ll theme it around the song. It’ll be awesome,” Jane Serena said. “Special effects. Action sequences. And lightsabers!”

    “I can see the headlines now: ‘POP STAR LOSES AN ARM TO LIGHTSABER. BEST FRIEND INDICTED FOR ATTEMPTED MURDER,’” Lennai declared.

    “We’d get training ones or something. They have those, right?” Jane Serena said. “We could totally borrow some from the Enclave. Aunt Nessa has connections there.”

    Lennai shook her head. “I can already sense that this is going to happen no matter what I say.”

    “You have a better idea?”

    “Well, this certainly won’t help with you feeling like you’re not making a difference,” Lennai pointed out.

    Jane Serena bit her lip silently. Lennai knew better than anyone else about how sometimes she felt like she was wasting her life on pop songs and not contributing to something worthwhile. Though she knew she led a life many beings wanted, sometimes she felt lacking next to her cousins. Almost every one of them was doing something better with their lives than her. Except for Ginny. Jane Serena was positive that she had an edge on her…except Ginny was getting married soon. Damn. There went that.

    “Well, if you’ve got any good ideas, I’m listening,” Jane Serena said.

    “Maybe you could do a serious song. Doesn’t have to sound serious, just something that gets beings thinking,” Lennai suggested.

    “Like what? Everybody’s done everything out there. It’ll be trite.”

    “Nobody’s ever written a song about the Trianii genocide,” Lennai said.

    “Huh?”

    “Jane Serena—have you never heard about what happened to the Trianii almost a century ago?” Lennai asked.

    “No. Who are the Trianii?”

    “We need to get to the Deredith & Millicent,” Lennai said, standing.



    Salis D’aar, Bakura

    Elfie Trieste liked her job. The non-profit sector suited her well. Sure, she didn’t make much, but that’s what the credits from the Noble House were helping with. It let her do something with her life that made a difference—work that her grandmother would be proud of.

    The organization she worked for was interested in a wide range of public policy issues, many of them centering on raising the quality of life for all Bakurans. Though the vast majority of Bakura had good jobs, some were still left behind. Elfie worked on building the political will to assist these beings. The unofficial motto she had tacked in her cube read, “When one of us does better, we all do better.”

    Elfie was rotating through various branches as they needed help. Though lots of beings specialized in certain fields, she was fast becoming a generalist. Elfie was discovering that the generalists were the ones who got things done. That was important to her—getting things done. Talk all you wanted about the ideal policy for making government more open or accountable, but until somebody did something about it those words weren’t going to affect any change.

    That meant that many files crossed her desk, sometimes a relic of former postings. It was easy enough to get them where they needed to go, even if it felt like an inordinate amount of time was spent on such flimsiwork when she arrived in the morning.

    The young woman had almost finished with the day’s rerouting when she came to the final item in her pile. Elfie picked up the nondescript envelope. It was not one of the usual flimsi files the organization used. The flimsi felt different too…

    Curious, she opened it and found just three sheets inside. Elfie scanned them to see what they were so she could decide where they needed to…

    Elfie Trieste nearly dropped them. She flipped to the second one and then the third, scanning furiously. When she was finished, she read through them a second time, more carefully. When she was done, she bolted out of her chair.

    “Elfie—aren’t you coming to the meeting?” a coworker asked as she passed him, headed in the opposite direction.

    “Not now,” she said, hurrying on her way, “I’ve got to—I’ll tell you later.”



    Salis D’aar, Bakura

    Declan and Ayn kept a joint office in their apartment. With the twins they didn’t have the space for separate offices. While this ran the risk of confusing files between them, it had the advantage of allowing them to easily consult with the other as the inclination struck them.

    There was two of everything in the office, one for each of them: two desks, two desk chairs, two terminals, two sets of holos commemorating their achievements and honors, the list went on.

    But there was only one dejarik board.

    The game had been begun years earlier, but since its inception the board had been rarely touched. In fact, only six moves on each side had been made. It sat, off against one wall, waiting, in the back of the minds of both Senators.

    Declan was looking at it now, contemplating the next move. Ayn noticed his gaze in a brief lull between bills.

    “Not yet, dear,” Ayn said.

    “It’s nearly as good as done,” Declan said.

    “But it’s not done yet.”

    “True enough,” Declan agreed.

    There was a brief silence. “Move one of the black pieces,” she said. “After all, things are in motion.”

    Declan complied and continued contemplating the board. The game had years to go, but already the board was taking shape, even if all the pieces didn’t know it yet…
     
  23. Vehn

    Vehn Force Ghost star 4

    Registered:
    Sep 14, 2009
    And things are taking shaping indeed....

    Lots of moving parts. I like posts like that ;) Nicely done! Curious to see how the 'game' will unfold....
     
    AzureAngel2 likes this.
  24. jcgoble3

    jcgoble3 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Nov 7, 2010
    Very intriguing. I wonder what Elfie rushed off to do and what those notes said.

    And this dejarik table... they ought to look into claiming the galactic record for longest dejarik game. :p Still, interesting how it's being used as a physical metaphor for their political careers. [face_thinking]
     
    AzureAngel2 likes this.
  25. Trieste

    Trieste Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    You don't think that the game is just a game? [face_laugh]
     
    jcgoble3 likes this.