Beyond - Legends The Fields of Tesserone (AU,OC)

When I saw "Lot 962" I thought, "Perhaps we can scare away the ghosts of so many years ago with a little illumination!" Ghosts indeed!

 

The Spire

"We have to stop meeting like this," James Hawkes said late one night. "I don't want someone to find out."

He didn't mean any of it of course. It was just his way of trying to distance himself from the emotions swirling all around him. He didn't intend to have feelings toward Tallia. It was supposed to be a fling. It was supposed to be a way for him to release his tensions. It was supposed to be strictly business. Now, damn it all, he felt himself falling in love for a woman who seemed to understand how he thought. A woman who seemed to understand the inner workings of his mind.

"You want to end this?" Tallia said as she snuggled up next to James. Her appetite hadn't quite been fully satiated yet. "We have such a good thing going."

"Yeah," James said, "we sure do."

Her hand drifted underneath the sheets. James groaned. She knew all the right moves. They made love again. When they were done they held eachother close. Neither side saying a word. Some things were better left unsaid.

James looked into her eyes. They were a beautiful sapphire blue. As clear as any sky he'd ever seen on Roon. He loved the way her hair cascaded around her shoulders like a waterfall. The way she made him feel. Her laugh. Her smile. Her breath as sweet as spring air after a rain. She was so smart. She could navigate him into a corner any day of the week. She would have made quite the adversary had the Coalition navy had her for its commander. He might have even lost the war.

"James," Tallia whispered.

"Hmmm?"

"There's something I need to tell you," she replied.

"Go ahead," James mumbled. He was in and out of sleep.

"I have a new assignment coming my way," Tallia said, "one that will take me far away from here. To the independent systems. It's top secret. Covert operations. You know the drill."

James opened his eyes. He frantically searched the ceiling for answers. Nothing was going to come from there. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. None of what she said made sense. She had to have been pulling his leg. This wasn't something that just landed in one's lap. This was a serious assignment. This was borderline black ops.

"The independent systems? The Federation isn't supposed to be operating beyond our borders," James said paraphrasing an article from the Federation Charter.

"Apparently they are," Tallia said, "and they want me to be on the first mission out there."

"None of this is legal, Tallia. You can't just go marauding in the independent systems wherever you please," James said.

"I'm not here to debate the legality of the operation with you, James. The orders come directly from the President. I'm not in a position to refuse," Tallia said sitting upright in bed.

"You mean you don't want to refuse," James grumbled. "Black ops, eh? That mean you're working with a team? Twelve operatives, specialized weaponry, and they want you around for what, naval intelligence?"

"I can't say..." Tallia said as she looked away.

"You just did," James groused.

"Can't you understand where I'm coming from? Can't you see my perspective?" Tallia said raising her voice.

"No, I can't," James replied.

"For the last six years I have overseen this facility. I have seen class after class go off to war, explore strange phenomena in the stars, and secure our borders. I have seen young men and women, beings from all across the galaxy, fight and die for a cause that they believed in while I sat behind my desk and kept the assembly lines running. Roon owes me, James. Roon owes me for my service because I gave everything they asked for and more! I've been a good little soldier. Now its my opportunity to serve my government, my people!"

"I had no idea," James admitted.

"I asked to be transferred to a front line command during the war. I asked to be put into harms way because that was my frakking destiny, James! That was my destiny! My mother served. Her mother served. So on and so forth and I will not be the only one in my generation to have never seen a turbolaser fired in anger, fired in the heat of battle. I'm going on this mission and you are going to accept it," Tallia insisted.

James held up his hands. "I don't want to fight with you."

"Good. You know what else you're going to accept?" Tallia asked.

"What?"

"You are now in command of The Spire. I transfer official command over to you tomorrow morning," Tallia said.

"You've got to be kidding! I don't know a thing about running this facility!" James protested.

"You know more than you think. Everything else I can teach you," Tallia said.

"How can you teach me everything in one night?" James questioned.

Tallia rolled on top of James and straddled him between her legs. "I'm one of the best instructors in the galaxy."

"You sure are," James grunted as he kissed Tallia on the lips.

---

OOC: Trieste you wanted to know what the Phantoms were going to be used for and how they were operating inside or outside Federation space. Here is a bit of your answer. More to come but this is but one development out the door.....

Nime, Roon
Presidential Palace
24 hours later

"The operation begins on your command," General Stanley Oakes informed President William Ypres.

"No one is aware that we're doing this?" President Ypres asked.

"No one, Mr. President. Not even the Hutts," General Oakes said.

"That violates the Treaty of Nal Hutta," William said, "we're supposed to share everything with them. It's how we maintain the peace."

The Treaty of Nal Hutta had been signed by the old RTO and Diija the Hutt in 267 ABY following the end of the war against Morgan Kynnovan and his Hutt mercenaries on Leritor. The treaty was designed to solidify a military alliance between two age old adversaries in an effort to increase cooperation and security in the eastern Outer Rim. The agreement had never been violated before. It was the bedrock of diplomacy between the two governments. The document was the one thing preventing Nal Hutta and Roon from going to war again in the future.

"Need to know, Mr. President. Need to know. Nal Hutta has routinely gone behind our back in dealing with piracy beyond their borders. I checked with the War Department and they haven't been briefed by Hutt commanders in six months. If there's information being passed back and forth its not official," General Oakes pointed out.

"That's a discussion for another day. Walk me through it again," President Ypres said as he drew his attention to the holographic display in front of him.

"Rhommamool," General Oakes said. "Phantom Team Six will insert south of the capital, Redhaven, and make their way into the outskirts of the city. Their target is a well known drug lord: Diablo Escandaar. Escandaar's compound is heavily guarded by his private army. This guy is as bad as they come. It was rumored he fed his wife to the sharks after she was caught outside the compound after hours. They say she screamed for hours before the end. Terrible. When this guy gets taken out the galaxy will rejoice."

"What sort of drugs is he pushing?" William asked.

"Rokna Blue," Oakes replied, "an euphoriant. Banned in most of the civilized systems throughout the galaxy. It causes eight hours of bliss. Sounds perfect save for the fact that its incredibly fatal when taken over a very small amount. Not to mention another side effect is memory loss. This one is hitting Federation schools hard. Escondaar is the sole producer of the drug. We picked him as a target not only for the challenge he presents but because it will be a good test of how well the Phantoms can slip in there, take him out, and return home."

"And what if it doesn't go well? What if the media finds out? What if the Republic finds out? Have you thought about what I'm going to say to the Hutts if they discover we have a rogue team operating out there taking out threats?" William pressed.

"We've planned for nearly every contingency, Mr. President. I cannot stand here and guarantee you 100 percent success. What I can do is say that Phantom Team Six has prepared for this mission for weeks. They are ready. They know every entrance, every exit, every location of every guard, they know everything about this compound. When they go in Escondaar will never know what hit him," Oakes replied.

"Are their orders to kill him?" William asked.

"If he resists, yes sir," Oakes said.

"And if he's apprehended alive?"

"He will spend a very long time in one of the most hellish prisons known to the galaxy," Oakes said.

"The Prism," William repeated. He shuddered visibly. It was a place for the worst offenders. A place he would never care to frequent himself.

"The team is in position," Oakes said. "They are awaiting your order."

President William Ypres looked up at the clock on the wall. It was an old habit. As if he could will time itself to stop on command. He watched the second hand ticking away. Tick, tick, tick. Every moment brought him closer to making one of the most important decisions of his presidency. Too bad it wouldn't be recorded in the history books. Too bad it wouldn't enhance his legacy.


"Commence the operation at once," William commanded.

Tag: Trieste;jcgoble3

 

I love this. Black ops, eh? How can it go wrong?

 

I couldn't have put it better myself!

 

For those who were curious what happened at Fleet Week, you can check that out in The Annals of the Noble House of Trieste: Volume 10, which was posted after consultation with Vehn.

 

OOC: Prepare yourself for some serious references to Shadows of Tesserone. A story that takes place twenty to twenty five years after Fields.




Redhaven, Rhomammool
Border of Republic Space

"30 seconds to insertion," the pilot called out.

Sean Riggins, 21 years old and a native of Druckenwell, tapped an energy cell on his helmet and slapped the active cell into his blaster rifle. He took a deep breath as the stealth transport began its descent into the outskirts of Redhaven. His eyes adjusted as the cabin lights went dark and then red as the pilot's transitioned to night flying. He fought off his nerves and pushed himself to focus on the mission at hand.

He examined his uniform in the reddish light of the cabin. All identifying patches and names had been stripped. Anything associating him with the Federation was gone. He was a nobody. He was nothing. He didn't even exist. He would never be recognized by his own government. In the event of his death his family would be told he died in a training accident. This operation was as black as they came.

The landing ramp lowered. Sean followed the man in front of him out of the transport. For a fleeting second he looked behind him as the transport ripped away into the darkest night he'd ever experienced. There was no way home now. There was only forward.

He adjusted the HUD on his helmet. Night vision activated. At least he could see now. At least he would know what his targets would look like before he pulled the trigger. He took a knee with the rest of the squad. There were twelve operatives total and each one of them had varying specialities and experience.

"You know the mission," Team Lead instructed, "a quick get in, grab our guy, and get the frak out. Shoot only if you have to. Choose your targets wisely."

"Yes sir," Sean said amidst a chorus of voices.

"Move out," Team Lea commanded.

Sean picked up the pace as he hustled with the other operatives towards the compound. A side door to the compound was kicked in and Sean cautiously made his way inside. He gently climbed a set of stairs leading to the upper level, the master suite. He reached the door leading to the master suite and extended a sensorunder the door to detect thermal images. Two tangos. One of whom was their target based on his energy profile.

He relayed the information to Team Lead in hand signals. The go ahead was now. It was time to strike.

It was now or never.

---

Diablo Escondaar was a rich man. He had everything he could possibly want at his fingertips. Copious amounts of money, expensive speeders, several homes, beautiful women, an endless supply of product to move about the galaxy. He also knew that he was a hunted man. A wanted man. Part of the reason for him setting up shop on Rhommamool was to expand into both Federation and Republican space. The beauty of the independent systems was that nobody had the strength to touch him out here. Neither government had the political capital or will to go after the growing threats in the wilds of the galaxy.

"There's a shipment headed out for Druckenwell tonight," an aide said.

"See to it that it gets there safely this time," Diablo instructed his aide. "I lost a lot of money when that transport was boarded by Federation Customs. Make sure the computer is up to date with the correct transponder."

"We've taken all of the necessary precautions. I promise you everything will go smoothly," the aide reassured Diablo.

"It better and if anything goes-" Diablo's voice trailed off. His eyes widened as he recognized a laser beam on his aide's chest.

"Boss?" The aide questioned confused.

The aide's chest exploded in a puff of crimson. Diablo dove behind his bed. He reached for a nearby blaster pistol on the nightstand. He wasn't about to be taken alive. He heard the door blast open, heavy footsteps filled the master suite, shouts of clear. He wondered if he could make a break for the rear exit. It wasn't too far.

Diablo tensed and readied himself to run. He'd only have one shot. A quick peek above the mattress showed most of the operatives facing away from him. They were focused on the deceased. A few were conversing quietly amongst themselves. Their body language was tense, focused, and for some reason they'd failed to account for his presence.

It was time to move.

---

/hr][/SIZE][/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=Times][SIZE=14px][SIZE=4]Sean hadn't fired the killing shot. That had been Team Lead. He'd been the third one through the door. He'd been tasked with clearing the bathroom which was off the main suite. It was empty. When he returned to the main room he discovered there was only one body. It was not their primary target. His eyes swept across the room again. There was no on else in sight. [/SIZE][/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=Times][SIZE=14px][SIZE=4]"Lead, something's not right," Sean said, "there should be two men in here. The back door doesn't look like anyone went through it recently."[/SIZE][/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=Times][SIZE=14px][SIZE=4]"You're right," Lead replied. "So our primary is still in here."[/SIZE][/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=Times][SIZE=14px][SIZE=4]"Where?" Sean asked. [/SIZE][/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=Times][SIZE=14px][SIZE=4]He got his answer a moment later as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun, blaster rifle ready, as Diablo Escandaar, drug kingpin, came out from behind the bed firing. He saw Lead go down hard. Another operative followed shortly thereafter. Sean didn't hesitate. He pulled his trigger. Watched as Diablo convulsed from each blaster shot. Watched as each impact of his blaster bolts sent Diablo into the next world. [/SIZE][/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=Times][SIZE=14px][SIZE=4]The slightly overweight drug lord slipped across a wall to the floor leaving a streak of crimson on the wall. An era in the galaxy had just ended. [/SIZE][/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=Times][SIZE=14px][SIZE=4]The Federation special forces team known as the Phantoms had just secured their first victory. [/SIZE][/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=Times][SIZE=14px][SIZE=4]At a terrible cost. [/SIZE][/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=Times][SIZE=14px][SIZE=4][hr]

Federation Speedway
Nime

"Come on, Cici!" Victoria hollered as the last lap in the qualifying race was about to wind down.

She glanced down at her stopwatch. Cici was making record time. It was something, really, as the course wasn't adjusted to account for lack of experience. This was the same course that podracing professionals used. The amateurs had to work it on this one. There were no assists or handicaps to help them. Only raw, unbridled, luck and talent.

Kurt's head whipped around as Cici roared past the finish line, engine noise rattling the windows, the haunting scream of turbines chomping at the warm summer air. He pumped his fist in the air as he and Victoria exchanged a hug. Their protege had nearly set a record time for the track. It was something neither of them had been able to do when they first started on pods.

"She's come a long way in such a short amount of time," Kurt remarked as the pair made their way over to pit row.

"I don't want to throw too much at her too soon but from where I'm standing she's got all the talent in the galaxy to take her to the top," Victoria replied.

"Is that enough?" Kurt asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't think she wants more out of life than being a champion?" Kurt reiterated.

Victoria frowned as she watched Cici clamber out of the pod and tuck her helmet under her arm. She studied the teenagar for a moment. Her blonde hair was sweaty and matted. Her physique was getting more tone by the day. She looked like a champion. She looked like a winner. What more could she possibly want?

"I don't know," Victoria said as Cici came over all smiles.

"I think you do," Kurt finished as he turned his attention to Cici.

"Nice job out there," Kurt said as he high fived his student.

"I could've done better," Cici admitted, "turn six, the hairpin, is nasty. Hard to maintain my speed. I felt if I gunned it too soon I'd shoot off the course."

"So many do," Victoria commented as her thoughts drifted to a bad accident that had occured on that very corner several years ago. The driver had walked away but the pod was nothing but burnt slag. "You were amazing. You keep this up you could be raising a trophy in no time."

"Thank you," Cici said. "Man, I'm hungry. Where are we going to eat?"

Victoria looked over at Kurt. They'd planned on a date tonight. She realized that would have to be modified a bit. It suddenly dawned on her what Kurt had been asking her about earlier. She knew now where he had been headed with their earlier conversation.

"Uh, how about..." Victoria stammered.

"Dorean's Pub," Kurt suggested.

"I love that place," Cici said.

"Lead the way," Victoria replied as she shot Kurt a look.

"You act as if a bomb had gone off under your speeder," Kurt muttered as they got into their speeder.

"Maybe it has," Victoria mumbled as she buckled herself in and prepared for a night out with a youth who had no home and only a dream that was threatening to turn into a reality.


Tag: Trieste;jcgoble3

 

Beautiful contrast between two entirely different worlds. One man's dreams dies with him as a young teenager's dreams begin to come true. Marvelous writing.

 

In just a little two weeks, I might know what inspired one of those scenes. After all, I'll have finished season 2 of a particular show on Netflix by then. However, I doubt they'd be able to do such a scene with the same amount of poetry!

 

Tesserone, Roon

"It's not often I host the owner of a professional Limmie team," Eleanor said as she poured Vera Grames a cup of tea.

"It's not often I am in the presence of a former Queen of Naboo, Senator of the Republic, and President of the Roon Federation," Vera replied.

"So what brings you here to Tesserone?" Eleanor asked. "You're not going to suddenly find the next great Smuggler on Roon, are you?"

"No," Vera said, "I've come on a more serious matter. I've come because I strongly suspect my husband is still alive."

Eleanor set her cup of tea down and leaned forward. "I see. What makes you think that?"

"I was at an auction this past weekend on Druckenwell. My husband's jacket, the one that he was supposedly found dead in on Herdessa, was the item being sold at the highest bidder. The auctioneer said that it was rumored Mike Grames may have been alive at a Federation prison camp. Something about Rhen Vhar. Does that mean anything to you?" Vera asked.

"Vera," Eleanor replied, "all of the prisoners of war were released from Federation prison camps shortly before my term came to a close. That was a promise I made to William Ypres when he was Governor of Druckenwell. That was a promise I made to the people of the Federation. I am confident that everyone, and I mean everyone, was released."

"Are you certain?" Vera pressed.

"Why, do you suspect something?" Eleanor asked.

"With politicians, my dear friend, I suspect everything," Vera replied.

"I would never lie to you, Vera. If there is a secret prison I am not aware of its existence," Eleanor said.

"Then who would know about this?" Vera asked.

"Admiral James Vehn," Eleanor said as she rose from her seat.

---

The Spire
Rothana

"Eleanor," James said as he keyed the holographic projector in front of him. He made sure the transmission was secure.

"James," Eleanor said, "I'm going to get right to it. I'm sitting with Vera Grames, the late wife of Mike Grames of Coalition fame. It seems Vera has come into some information regarding a secret Federation prison on Rhen Vhar."

"How did she find out about this?" James asked.

"So it does exist," Eleanor replied, "and why wasn't I informed?"

There was no hiding information from her now. Eleanor knew. Vera Grames knew. It wasn't long before the media would find out as well. Then President William Ypres would have plenty of questions to answer. Plenty.

"There is one prisoner of war camp still operating on Rhen Vhar," James admitted, "and I played a role in the defense system that keeps it protected from prying eyes."

"I signed an executive order when the war ended to have all prisoners returned to Druckenwell," Eleanor said growing irritated, "are you telling me that the military ignored my command?"

James shook his head. "The military follows the lead of the President of the Roon Federation. I'm saying that this camp was built shortly after you left office. A freighter, carrying high profile Coalition prisoners, was intercepted enroute to Druckenwell. All occupants were sent to Rhen Vhar to be interrogated. The Federation wanted information."

"So this prisoner of war camp was built by President William Ypres?" Eleanor asked, astounded.

"If not him then someone very close to him. Someone with access to high level command codes and resources," James replied. "I was made aware as my current posting is part of the defense network which keeps Rhen Vhar protected."

"Have you been to the camp?" Eleanor asked.

James shook his head. "They won't let me near it."


"They will let me," Eleanor replied as she killed the transmission.
Tag: Trieste;jcgoble3

 

Hey William, your secret prison ain't so secret anymore.

Keep up the great writing!

 

How interesting given that I have characters in the area of Druckenwell right now and on property belonging to William Ypres...

 

282 ABY
Herdessa
Last Day of the Roon-Druckenwellian War

"Tighten formation," Mike Grames barked into the radio. "Keep your eyes open."

He squinted through sunlight and cloud. His eyes were trained now to detect metallic flicks in the sky, every subtle movement, every parting of the sky around him.The Coalition was forced to use older techniques to fight the war. Sensors didn't work on Herdessa. Something about atmospheric interference. He keyed the radio and tuned into the broadcast from II Avali. The song that was on the radio took him back to his last night with Vera. They'd danced, they'd made love, they'd talked about their future together.

All gone.

"Bogies, 2 o'clock high," Mike's wingman called out.

"I see 'em," his wingman called out.

A fierce dogfight ensued. Many lives on both sides were lost as the planes spiraled and twisted in the air in the deadliest dance of them all. The action was rinse and repeat, and the killing never seemed to end. He'd become numb to the world around him. Numb to feeling much of anthing. There had been a time when'd cared but that was a long time ago. Mike had notched a few more kills when a broadcast came across the radio that stopped his heart cold.

"Attention all combatants. Cease fire. Cease fire. Return to your bases immediately. The war is over. The war is over. I repeat, the war is over," came Central Command. "Effective immediately, all hostilities with Roon are to cease."

Mike broke off his attack and pulled up into the sky. The survivors from his flight did the same. He noticed that Federation fighers had disengaged as well. He keyed his throat comm. "Blue leader to Blue squadron: break off your attack. Head home. Repeat head home. Our war is over."

He double backed toward home base. Could see the lights of the airfield on the horizon. He was so close now. So close to being done. To ending his war. To going home to see Vera. He glanced down at the picture of Vera tucked behind a gauge on the instrument panel.



"I'll be home soon," Mike whispered as he affectionately stroked the picure.

"Bandits, six o'clock!" His wingman cried out before disintegrating into a ball of flame.

Mike looked behind him and felt a sharp stab of fear through his heart. Two Federation fighters were opening fire, already so close, as they slipped into killing range. He felt a heavy jolt from behind as lasers hit his starfighter. He fought to bank away from the threat but the stick didn't respond. He'd lost all control. One more loud jolt and the s-foils locked in the forward position. He was going down toward the ground. He felt heat on his back. His plane was on fire.

He punched the emergency release to send the canopy soaring into the sky. Nothing happened. He punched the button again. Sparks flew. He fought against the stick as the ground surged upward to meet him. He wasn't able to pull the plane out of the steep dive. A sickening feeling crept over him. He'd always escaped. He'd always fought his way out of tough scraps. He'd always survived.

Now that was all gone. Now that was no longer a possibility.

"I love you, Vera," Mike said as flames started to enter the cockpit, as the ground loomed large in his windshield, "one day, I promise you, we'll meet again."

---

​

Federation Prison Camp #982
Rhen Vhar
Present Day

Mike Grames had made this trip to the wintry quarry hundreds of times. Perhaps even thousands. He knew the route by memory, could walk it with his eyes closed, and still it seemed just as long to him as the very first time he ever stepped foot on its icy surface. He had lost track of time on this hellish planet. He had lost track of everything that mattered. Even lost hope of ever seeing his beloved wife Vera.

Vera, whatever happened to you? Mike wondered as he pressed on through the bitter cold, the fierce wind, the prison sentence granted to him without end. He wrapped his tattered overcoat around him tighter, fought off the cold nipping at his face, his fingertips, as he placed one heavy, ice-laden, snow covered boot in front of the other. It was all he could do to follow the tracks of the man in front of him. He dared not fall behind. Stragglers died here by falling behind.

Mike trudged past a few frozen bodies on the side of the path. They had fallen last week on the march to the quarry. Their bodies eerily preserved by the cold looking no less worse for wear than the day they fell. He recognized their faces. Men he had joked around with, eaten with, bunked with, and fought against Roon on the distant battlefield of Herdessa. He was numb now, as numb as his face, as numb as his fingers, to the displays of death littering the path to the labor camp. There had been a time when he'd cared. That time was long gone.

Mike adjusted the weight of the ice axe on his shoulder and trudged forward, through ankle-deep snow, through ice that cut at his calves, through the quiet hell he was living. Up ahead, Federation guards prowled the sides of the path. One man stumbled, fell to the ground, the guards yelled at him to get up, to get back in line, but the man was exhausted. The guard, frustrated, pulled out his sidearm and shot him in the head.

Mike passed the pool of blood forming around the victim's body. For a brief moment he saw his own reflection in the crimson mirror. Who was that sunken and haggard face that stared back at him? What was his name? What had he been? What was his story? Mike didn't know anymore. He didn't know if he'd ever make it out of this camp alive.

He arrived at the quarry, illuminated by brilliant stadium lights powered by generators, and stared up at the rock wall he had toiled on for the last three years. He knew every precipice, every crack, every mineral, every sheet of ice, he knew it all and it knew him. Knew his darkest secrets, his brightest hopes, what made him happy, what made him sad. The quarry had taken his soul, partly for safe keeping and partly as the price exacted of the brutal hard labor that the Federation overseers had forced him to do.

"Form up!" The guards yelled. A few had vicious dogs barking on leashes, eager to tear into a man's flesh, especially one who took the time to flee.

Mike stood in formation with the other prisoners. There were fewer now. Where once the icy courtyard had been filled with men now only a fraction remained. Three years had taken their toll. How many more years must I endure? Mike thought.

"Good morning," the Commandant of the prison said to the gaggle of prisoners. "Before you begin today's labors I have a special demonstration for you. One that I hope will motivate you to do a better job today than you did yesterday."

Mike felt his muscles tense as a man was dragged to a durracrete pillar and handcuffed. He could see right away that the man's legs had been broken. Most likely by torture. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as the Commandant grabbed an energy baton from a nearby table. This was not going to end well. Such demonstrations rarely did.

"This man was caught stealing from the officer's quarters. For that he shall be punished. 100 lashes," the Commandant explained.

The commandant raised his baton and brought it down with vicious ferocity onto the man's back. The man screamed and howled as his body spasmed from the blow. He was about to strike another blow when Mike broke formation and yelled, "Enough!"

The commandant stopped his torture in mid-motion. He turned to see who had disturbed his morning reverie. "Bring him here."

Mike felt guards haul him toward the durracrete pillar. He didn't resist. The guards thrust him to his knees as the commandant towered over him like a ruler of old. Mike met the eyes of his executor. Eyes that had lost all sense of feeling. All sense of remorse. All sense of honor.

"Do you wish to die?" the commandant sneered.

"If that is what takes me away from this world," Mike replied.

The commandant turned his back on Mike for a second and then spun around bringing the baton across Mike's face.

Mike groaned from the blow. His ears were ringing, his head felt like an earthquake had just ripped across the temples. He felt dazed, out of sorts, and as he was brought back to his knees he saw the commandant reach for his blaster pistol.

"Let this be a lesson to all of you," the commandant said. "Of what not to do."

Mike closed his eyes as the cool tip of the blaster pistol pressed against his swollen face. This was the end. This was the last place he'd ever live. This was it. Goodbye, my dearest Vera, goodbye, my love.

He waited for the trigger to be pulled.

Waited.

Waited.

"Stop!" A female voice cried out.

Mike turned to see a woman from the past standing near him. Her blonde hair, jacket pulled tight around her, bustling in the wind.


"Vera..."

Tag: Trieste;jcgoble3

 

Damn cliffhanger.

Seriously, though, that's a great post. Vera arrived just in time. But what is she going to do now? Find out in the next episode!

 

Rhen Vhar
Federation Prison Camp # 982

A blast of stun weapons fire and armed resistance around the camp melted away as the commandant collapsed to the ground unconscious. Vera didn't see who had fired the shot or really what happened thereafter. All that mattered to her was that Mike was alive, right in front of her. After all of these years, after all of the lonely nights, there was the love of her life, just a few steps away.

"Vera," Mike called out again.

Vera rushed forward, fought her way through the gaggle of prisoners, and embraced her husband fiercely to her chest. She cried as they kissed for the first time in years. It was like a part of her soul that had been missing had finally come back home. The yearning to look into the eyes of the man she loved, after thinking he had been killed over the harsh skies of Herdessa, was overwhelming. Pulling away she tenderly touched Mike's face and knew in that instance that nothing would ever separate them again.

"I love you," Mike whispered through his own tears.

"I love you more," Vera replied as they kissed again. "Never leave me again, never!"

"I won't!" Mike replied as they held one another for the longest time.

And just like that the clouds parted and the first sunlight on Rhen Vhar in nearly 60 days hit the surface of the frigid planet. For the first time in a long time both Mike and Vera Grames had reason to smile. The pair made promises that day. Promises that they would intend to keep until their final breaths.

"Remember, Vera? Remember I told you that we would meet again some sunny day," Mike said.

"How could I forget?" Vera said as she helped escort her husband, her war hero, the love of her life, to a warm shuttle.

"Time to go home, Mike," Vera said as Mike rested against her shoulder in the shuttle, "time for both of us to go home."

---

Tarhassan

"They know about the prison. They know that those weren't real Federation soldiers guarding Rhen Vhar. They know that someone else was behind the entire operation. We're going to get caught. You're leaving me out here exposed. President Ypres will find out about this and when he does he is going to make us pay."

"Sam," Jedi Master Adain said, "don't be so quick to give up hope on the cause. Besides, you have such an important role to play in what is to come."

Vice President of the Roon Federation Sam Cullen gulped down the drink in front of him. He had secretly flown out to Tarhassan, Adain's secret lair, to meet directly with the Master Jedi. He was nervous about being followed and had taken several micro-jumps to throw off any tails. He nervously clasped his hands together as Adain circled around the stone table. The Jedi Master was calculating. It was clear to Sam that he had long since left the light. Any remnants of that honorable Jedi were long gone and the darkness had ultimately consumed him.

"I'm not so sure I want to go forward with the cause," Sam said.

Adain raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. His tall, imposing form, his dark robes, the eerily disturbing physical presence were all advantages he used to get what he wanted from lesser beings, lesser men. "You do not want to go back on your promise. You forget what will happen if I even suspect that you have betrayed me."

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Please, don't harm my family, I'll cooperate, I promise!"

Adain drew himself up his full height and keyed a hologram in the center of the round stone table. "Oh, I am not going to go after your family, just you."

The hologram displayed the Prism. The infamous galactic prison where only the most dangerous beings were held in captivity. "Do you know what this is?"




Sam shook his head.

"The Prism. Built over 1,000 years ago by the Jedi to house the most dangerous abusers of power the galaxy has ever seen. It was even rumored that a special cell was prepared once for Emperor Palpatine should the Rebellion ever have the capability to apprehend him. As you know, such plans never came to be. Your fate, Sam, will be quite torturous should you betray me. I will find you. I will send you to the Prism whereby you shall be tormented by the deepest isolation known to any being in the galaxy. There will be no second chances, or pardon, or release. You will suffer until the very end all alone in the darkest cell of them all. The galaxy will have forgotten that you ever existed. Now, do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly clear, Master Adain," Sam said.

"Good. Then let us proceed," Adain said as he began to outline his plans.


It was time to bring the Federation to its knees.

Tag: Trieste;jcgoble3

 

Man, I had forgotten about Adain! Which was probably part of his evil plan all along...

 

Adain was behind the secret prison?! You certainly know how to spin a tale, and I do mean spin, because spinning creates twists, and this is such a good one of those.

 

OOC: I wanted both of my loyal readers to know that I greatly appreciate your feedback and guidance as I restarted The Fields of Tesserone. Since delving back into this story I have come to remind myself why I enjoyed this fanfic to begin with as it brings out the best, and the worst, of the Vehn family. A family that I have written about for the better part of a decade.

I came to a realization the other day and it has been one that I think many writers come to in that stories have a way of getting too large, too unfocused, and with that being said I am going to give you epilogues for Kasey Vehn, James Vehn, and Kurt and Victoria Vehn. I know that several of you wanted me to explore their stories but I can't help but feel that their stories are almost better left untold. Personally, as a writer, the plot kept getting too thick, too scattered, for the concise story I'd like to write. Fields is a beautiful story, close to my heart, but I personally feel it needs to remain on the narrow path of clear narrative.

The post that exists below is to wrap up their stories as I focus back toward Eleanor, Master Adain, Austin Vehn, and the Federation role in the galaxy at large. At the end of the post I have some good news for you that directly ties into the successor story: Shadows of Tesserone.

Thank you.



Kasey Hadley watched the setting sun from the porch of the schoolhouse where she had taught these many months. She reflected quietly as the final rays of light slipped from the day upon her journey that had carried her from her humble beginnings on Druckenwell to the Corporate Sector Authority in defense of the Trianii people and back to Roon, in particular, the small town of South Fork.

She'd formed lasting connections as a teacher for this small community which wasn't so small anymore as industry had slowly returned to the hinterland. She'd inparted lasting lessons on the children under her tutelage, lessons that went beyond the classroom, lessons that went beyond the town, lessons that she hoped the children would carry forward into adulthood.

Kasey was happy here. Happy to call South Fork home. She'd learned to adjust politically to the nuances of rural life. Some folks were more conservative, maybe even more religious, but she'd learned to meet in the middle with them and see that their values, in the end, weren't so very different from her own. She was just glad to teach. Glad to make a difference. Glad to find that in building a home in South Fork she had put roots down that would last her all her life.

Kasey had worked hard with Professor Bhairn to repair the dilapidated school house. It now stood as the bright spot in the economically resurgent town. An inspiration to those around her, a flagship of what could possibly be with the right funding and resources, Kasey was proud of everything she'd accomplished during her short time here.

She looked down at her right hand and smiled. Occupying the ring finger was a simple yet elegant engagement ring offered to her by Professor Bhairn shortly after they'd completed the school house. She'd said yes for he was one of the most kind men she had ever had the honor of knowing. They would be married within the year and have two children in due course.

For Kasey Hadley all was well in her world.

All was quite well.

---

Federation Speedway

Kurt and Victoria Vehn cheered and hollered as Cici screamed past them toward the finish line winning her first ever junior championship. The pair quickly hopped the sidewall of the racetrack and rushed forward to congratulate their protege. They'd never seen someone take to racing as well as Cici did and they were more proud of her in this moment than at any point in their life.

Victoria reached Cici and hugged her tightly. When she pulled back she whispered in Cici's ear, "I have a surprise for you."

Kurt handed Cici a box. Cici, confused, looked at both of her mentors and asked, "What is it?"

"Open it up," Kurt said as he wrapped an arm around his wife.

Cici opened the box and inside rested a single sheet of paper. She grasped the paper with her greasy hands and started to read. When she finished reading there was a long silence. The box fell away leaving Cici clutching the paper with shaking hands.

"I can't believe this is happening," Cici said as tears fell down her face, "tell me this is real?"

"Oh, it's real," Victoria said, "what do you think? Are you okay with this?"

Cici wiped her face, tried to dry her eyes, but it was difficult as a surge of emotions ran their course. She'd never been happier in her life. She nodded and blurted out, "Hell yes I'm okay with this. When does this take effect?"

"Today," Kurt said as he looked over at Victoria, "today, Cici, you officially become part of our family. We love you and we didn't want you to grow up without parents, without a home, without a chance to pursue your dreams."

"I love you both so much," Cici said as she rushed forward to hug them.

"We love you, kiddo," Kurt and Victoria said nearly in unison, "we love you."

---

The Spire

"You've fought a war in the name of the Federation, closed down an illegal prison camp, defended the borders, and taught academy classes," Tallia said, "but I think there's one victory you've yet to achieve."

"And what might that be?" James asked as he gently danced with Tallia at the annual Academy Ball. The pair slipped across the dance floor through throngs of cadets. It was almost as if they were dancing on their own. As if they had the entire room to themselves.

"You've yet to take me," Tallia whispered in his ear.

"My dear, I think I've had you," James said glancing around, "and you are quite nice."

"You mistake my meaning," Tallia said, "I'm saying you've yet to take my hand."

"Ah," James said as he extended his arm and Tallia twirled. They came back together again and James drew Tallia close and said, "Then I suppose I should embark on this endeavor as I do in all my other pursuits. With a steady hand and a loving heart, Tallia Gray, will you marry me?"

Tallia kissed James nearly throwing him off balanace. "I will so long as you clearly understand the chain of command."

"Oh," James replied, "I think I understand who I am to report to every day."

"Good man," Tallia said as the pair danced into midnight. "Now I think we should be married here on the Spire...."

[hr[/hr]

Twenty Five Years Later During the Time of Shadows of Tesserone

Eleanor Vehn watched as Grace left Tesserone to pursue a life with the Jedi. Her eyes tracked the hard arc of the shuttle as it pierced the atmosphere raising up and away bound for Ossus and her brother, Austin Vehn's, sharp tutelage.

She turned and looked at the rebuilt home of the Vehn family. It felt empty without her husband. It felt empty without her adoptive family whom she had been close to over the years. She still had her mother and father but they would not be long for the world. They were getting up there in age, especially her father, even though he was a Bakuran and age seemed to be afraid of such folk.

Eleanor made her way to the door and felt a sharp blast of wind catch her jacket. She turned and to her surrpise a Federation military shuttle landed in her front yard. She squinted her eyes as soldiers disembarked. She recognized the unit immediately. They were the Phantoms. The secret protectors of the Federation and its interests abroad.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" Eleanor asked.

"A gift for you, Madam President," one of the soldier said as he stepped aside. "We managed to save them all before Adain's forces got to them."

Eleanor's mouth dropped as Kurt and Victoria, with Cici, in tow, followed by Kasey and Professor Bhairn and James and Tallia Vehn emerged from the shuttle. All of them looked a little worse for wear but they were alive. Somehow, miraculously, they were alive.

"We thought you were dead!" Eleanor exclaimed, "We had a funeral and everything! Mom, Dad, come out here, they're alive! Thank the Maker they're alive!"

Many hugs and laughs were exchanged as the Vehn clan reunited for the first time in awhile.

"The bodies were plants, Madam President. We knew Adain would strike at your family first. Unfortunately we weren't able to save them all," the soldier explained.

"And you led the rescue operation?" Eleanor asked.

"I did, Madam President," the soldier said.

"And your name, soldier?"

"Sean Riggins, Madam President," Sean replied.

"Sean," Eleanor said repeating the name softly, "come have dinner with us tonight. You and your men. My family owes you a debt of gratitude."

"I would like that very much, Madam President," Sean said, "but before I take you up on your generous hospitality I have one request."

"Anything," Eleanor said.

"May I have your daughter's hand in marriage?" Sean asked.

"Grace?" Eleanor said aloud and then it hit her as so many things had over the years. A realization came to her now. She remembered where she recognized Sean from. The race on Bakura. The heroic efforts that Grace had made to save Sean's life. How she'd purposefully lost the race to save a bitter rival. She studied the soldier before her. There was sincerity in his eyes. Sincerity and kindness. Perhaps they were not rivals after all. Perhaps there was a future here.

"Yes, you may," Eleanor said even though she had a hard time believing the words had just fallen from her lips. "But she's not here. Grace just left for the Jedi Temple on Ossus."

"Thank you, Madam President, I'll find her," Sean said with a nod. "I will always find her."

"I believe you," Eleanor replied as she examined the family that for days now she had beleived she had lost forever.

"I believe that there is hope for us all."

Tag: Trieste;jcgoble3

 

I, uh, caught myself hovering over the "like" button, waiting on the reactions to pop up so I could click "love". Then I realized that this isn't Facebook.

Excellent wrap-ups all around.

 

So some of them lived! Hooray! I look forward to the Shadows...or do I?

 

At least you know Shadows ended up ending well But there's still nearly 25 years of stuff to do in between and oh so many stories to tell.

 

285 ABY

Nal Hutta, Hutt Space


Diija the Hutt, lord of the Hutt clans, rested on his throne with an uneasy heart. The empire that he had built was dying. The empire that he had governed and managed these many years was slipping from his fingers. It was an empire built on illegal trade. An empire built upon the backs of those less fortunate. An empire that was outdated for the modern galaxy. An empire that could not survive much longer. Not with the strong Republic to the west and the rising economic dominance of the Roon Federation to the south.

Diija had summoned the clans of the various regions of Hutt space to the capital for a great gathering. There had not been a gathering of the clans in nearly two centuries. Not since the great war with the Almanian Empire. When first he had put out the summons the response had been slow. Few Hutts in this generation understood the symbols beckoning them to their ancestral home. Few had shown an inclination to respond. They were all much too focused on their own fiefdoms to care about the capital. That all changed when Diija started to threaten lives.

"They're here, my lord," a Twi'lek advisor whispered in his ear.

"Summon them to the great hall," Diija said as he nodded his bulbous head.

The great doors at the end of the hall opened and the leaders of the Hutt clans, thirteen to be exact, slithered into the great chamber. Each bowed before their lord and took their place at the great round table which dominated the center of the room. Each clan lord had their own military entourage with them which they conventiently left outside the hall. There were some strong rivals in this room. Hatred that ran just beneath the surface. Old memories, old wounds, died hard in this part of the galaxy.

Only the Great Peace of '46 had quelled the last of the clan violence. Diija had assumed the throne as supreme lord of the clans in exchange for keeping the peace between the various factions. His objective had been clear. To bring as much money into the coffers of the clans as possible. For decades this strategy had worked to great success. That all changed when the markets collapsed, when the credits stopped coming in, when the citizens of Hutt Space began to riot in the streets and challenge the very authority of the clans.

When everyone was assembled, Diija spoke. " I have called you here to discuss the future. A future where our current way of life is dying. We have two choices before us. Continue down the same path and hope that we may yet regain our former glory or we formerly join the Roon Federation and reap the benefits of economic stability. Between our two economies the galaxy would have to sit up and take notice."

"Are you out of your mind, my lord!" The leader of the Hutt clan from Ylesia said. "They are our sworn enemies. We have spilled our precious blood to fight these usurpers from the south! I would rather die than swear any allegiance to the Federation."

"I agree with my lord from Ylesia," the Hutt leader from Kessel said, "we are not in a position where we must grovel to the Federation and ask for help. I say we strike out like we used to and raid our ancestral enemies trade routes. The Republic is weak, the Hapes Consortium trembles behind their outdated Battle Dragons, and the Corporate Sector Authority has no stomach for war. I say we strike outwards at those who have repressed us for so long!"

That brought cheers.

"I shouldn't have to remind you," the Hutt lord of Nar Shaddaa said, "but when last I looked our fleets could barely make the jump to hyperspace without falling apart. Our mercenary armies are long in the tooth and ill equipped. Our glorious trade routes you so proudly proclaim fell into disrepair years ago and I warned all of you what would happen if we failed to develop our infrastructure. We are truly at a crossroads. I support my lord Diija's push to pursue a formal union with the Roon Federation."

"Need I remind you," the Hutt lord from Toydaria said before his enemies could cut him off, "that the Roon Federation initaited the peace talks which we have benefited from these many years. If we turn our backs on the Federation now in our hour of need they will never help us out again. I support this move and call those who would oppose it: cowards!"

Diija watched impassively as the two factions squabbled back and forth amongst one another. They didn't know yet that the agreement had already been signed weeks ago during a secret state visit to Roon. It was amusing to him to at long last see the political divisions of his empire. He had long suspected that Ylesia and Kessel were aligned but it surprised him that Toydaria sided with Nar Shaddaa.

"Silence!" Diija said amplifying his voice.

The chamber fell quiet as a tomb.

"This fighting is exactly what I feared would happen when I summoned all of you here," Diija said, "and this very fighting has driven me to pursue an option that in other times would leave me ashamed. An option that I feel I have no choice but to pursue. An option that would have my grandfather and my father rolling in their grave! Effective tonight at midnight, I, Diija the Hutt, will transfer sovereign control of our beloved space to the Roon Federation."

This drew gasps and cries of outrage.

"This decision was not reached easily. This decision troubled me for many months now. Our great economy is in ruins. Our beloved way of life is on the verge of utter collapse. Our only option, my only option, was to sign the Acts of Union with the Roon Federation that would protect our great people for decades to come," Diija explained.

"Traitor!" Cried out Ylesia.

"Coward!" Added Kessel.

"You sold us out to the enemy!" Ylesia yelled out.

Diija had heard enough. He slithered out of the room with the clan leaders of Nar Shaddaa and Toydaria. He waved an arm once he was free of the room, still hearing the angry voices of his political enemies, and watched in satisfaction as heavy blast doors sealed the room off from the outside. He gave a curt nod to a subordinate who flipped a lever sending noxious gas into the room killing everyone inside.

"Forgive me, ancestors above," Diija whispered.

"What's done is done," a female voice said behind him. "You gave them every opportunity to swear an oath to you."

"I have in one night changed the fate of my people. I pray that your government shall uphold their end of the bargain," Diija said.

Eleanor Vehn emerged from the shadows and replied, "I swear to you on all that I hold dear and true. I shall never let you down. Not now, not ever. The Federation will always stand beside you. What you have lost today is small in comparison to what you have gained for those who are yet born. There will be no more borders between Hutt Space and the Federation. There shall be no more wars. No more trade disputes. No more disenfranchised people crying out for help in the night. At long last, dear friend, we have our peace."

"How can I believe what you say? You are not the President of the Roon Federation. You are not the Federation Senate. Nothing you have said today has any weight," Diija said.

"Is that so?" Eleanor asked.

"It seems clear to me that you have no power within the Federation," Diija replied.

"If only that were true," Eleanor said. "I'll let you in on a little secret. One I have been hiding ever since I chose my successor."

"Go on," Diija said.

"I am the President of the Roon Federation," Eleanor said.

Diija blinked. "How is this possible. There were elections. There were results. The Federation has a new president."

Eleanor's lip curled into a knowing smile. "That is what we wanted our people to think. That is what we wanted the galaxy to think. I needed a man who was willing to cooperate with me at every level. William Ypres agreed. In fact, he had no choice. I had defeated him soundly in the war. Victory was mine and I could demand of him anything I requested. Fortunately we're good friends so our business relationship only grew stronger. I promised him the lucrative markets of the independent systems, and a chance to act as President of the Roon Federation. In exchange the war ended and Druckenwell was disarmed never to wage a war against Roon again."

"You are a cold one, aren't you?" Diija said.

"There's no emotion involved. William and I were simply conducting good business. He gets to pretend to run the Roon Federation, keeping his political opponent Sam Cullen under a tight thumb and the people feel they've voted in a legitimate democracy. The thing is the Roon Federation, much like the old RTO before it, needs the Vehn family. There is no other way for this to work. By signing the Acts of Union with the Roon Federation you have ensured a very bright future for Nal Hutta," Eleanor explained.

"So what happens now?" Diija asked.

"You and I have a common enemy, Diija," Eleanor said.

Diija's eyes widened. "The Republic."

Eleanor nodded. "My only desire, my only goal, is to make the Republic regret ever turning its back on the free trade agreement that could have secured the economic future of the eastern Outer Rim."

"What are you suggesting?" Diija asked. "Open military conflict?"

Eleanor shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous. I wanted you on my side because together our two governments can finally work together to fight a war we can win."

"What kind of war?"


"The only kind worth fighting," Eleanor said, "a trade war."

Tag: Trieste;jcgoble3

 

Great writing. I wonder what impact this will have on the Smugglers?

 

A trade war? I wonder if this was always the plan when the RTO disbanded and threw away its trade contract with the Republic. Things are going to get interesting!

 

Hypori

Federation Space

Master Tel Adain ran a weathered hand through the blackened and destroyed earth beneath his feet. His fist slowly curled into one of rage as he examined the blasted remnants of a factory that he secretively owned and operated deep inside Federation space. He was visiting Hypori on a diplomatic mssion from the Jedi but had used the mission as an excuse to keep tabs on his less than acceptable business dealings. He'd arrived only moments after the explosion. A blast that had rocked the surrounding countryside unilke any he had seen before. He ignored the thick, choking, black smoke frolicking high into the air and pushed toward the heart of the blast. There was something he had to see.

Adain picked his way through the debris until he found a remnant of what he was looking for during his search. The object was burned and warped by the intense heat of the blast but the symbol stamped on the sheet of metal was quite clear and so was the party responsible for this attack.

The Ypres Initiative.

He heard the distinctive whine of engines racing by and he turned to look just in time to see a freighter make a low pass over the smoke filled rubble before blasting upward toward the upper reaches of Hypori's atmosphere. His eyes never left the contrails created by the freighter as a hatred and anger swelled up inside of him casting a dark energy around all those who had journeyed with him to Hypori.

"Are the twelve safe?" Adain asked.

"They were moved last night, my lord," an aide replied. "We were fortunate that our schedule had to be changed due to a nearby Federation patrol in the area."

Adain closed his eyes and allowed the darkness to flow through him. Fortunate, indeed. All was nearly lost by an errant bomb thrown out by a freighter of unknown origin. He had used the factory as a training ground for the twelve: children who would one day grow to become feared assassins. It was an unfortunate setback to lose a facility so deep in Federation territory. A setback he would have difficulty overcoming.

"What is their present location?" Adain asked.

"Tarhassan, my lord," the aide replied.

"Tarhassan, that is good," Adain said, "and does anyone else know the location of the twelve?"

"No, my lord," the aide replied.

Adain smiled and beckoned the aide closer. The aide complied as Adain leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Good."

Adain ignited his lightsaber and felt the life leave his aide's body. He shoved the aide's body aside, picked up the fragment bearing the insignia of the Ypres Initiative, boarded his shuttle, and plotted a course straight for Tarhassan.

He had an old friend to meet.

---

Nime, Roon

"A trade war, are you serious?" President William Ypres challenged his predecessor in a private meeting behind closed doors.

"It is the only way we can make the Republic come to the table. There's still hope for our trade deal," Eleanor replied.

"The dissolution of the RTO scrapped the trade deal, Eleanor. Now we are formally in union with the Hutts, the Republic has pulled their embassy from Nime, and there are questions coming in daily from our rivals in the Corporate Sector Authority," President Ypres replied. "We do not have the economic capital to go toe to toe with Coruscant!"

"I have friends," Eleanor replied, "I have friends who could rally the Republic Senate to our cause. I will not stand by and watch the hard work of others be thrown away because the RTO was destroyed from within! You said it yourself, William, free trade was good for the galaxy. It brought about peace and stability in ways that an occupying military force never could!"

"I said that before our two planets went to war and virtually destroyed the economy of the old RTO," Wiliam replied, "and now I am left to pick up the pieces of a war your family started. Free trade is an idea that died a long time ago. What we have done since, Eleanor, has been nothing short of inspiring! We have rebuilt Druckenwell. We have rebuilt Roon. We are now standing on the precipice of greatness! Finally we shall have the respect that we so rightfully have earned!"

"Then we are at an impasse," Eleanor replied, "for I will not sacrifice the dreams of my forebearers. The dreams of my family."

"Look at the numbers, Eleanor," William said, "when the RTO had free trade it wasn't as beneficial to our corporations as we might've thought. Besides, it antagonized the Hutts whom, I'll admit, you've worked very hard to secure a working relationship with."

"You're talking about protectionism," Eleanor said.

"I am," William replied, "and I stand by my remarks. Our economy, no matter how you twist the numbers, is incapable of matching the Republic in a free trade deal should it arise today, tomorrow, or a decade from now. We are hurting, Eleanor. It is all I can do to keep a standing army clothed and properly fed. Your talks with the Hutts have opened up doors and markets that I never thought we'd have access to and I am forever grateful. Do not push a free trade agreement with the Republic, not yet."

"Then how do you suggest I talk to the Republic when they come asking for access to our markets? When they come asking for access to our defense industries, our weapons, our resources?" Eleanor asked.

"You refuse," William replied.

"You make it sound so simple," Eleanor said.

"I'm afraid, my dear, that it really is that simple. You refuse the Republic and I guarantee you that they will soften their stance," William said.

"We'll see about that," Eleanor replied as she headed out the door.

Tag: Trieste;jcgoble3