Beyond - Legends Annals of the Noble House of Trieste: Volume 13 (AU, OC)

@AzureAngel2 @jcgoble3 @Sinrebirth Here's the continuing installments in @Vehn making story work for me.

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Hapes

“I’d wish you a happy Yuletide, but that doesn’t seem appropriate.” Declan waved at the bright, sunny weather that surrounded them to finish his point.

Sierra laughed and hugged him gently, brushing a light kiss on his cheek through her veil. “Don’t worry. There’s a place in my heart where it’s cold and rainy,” she told him.

“You really are Hapan then.”

“How’s that?”

“You’d have to have a cold heart to survive at court here.”

Sierra rolled her eyes as she escorted her guest from the landing pad to the palace through manicured gardens and past topiaries. “We are all Hapan. Even you.” Fionn Dunross Trieste had been half-Hapan through his mother, which meant his grandchildren bore enough of the Lorell Pirates in their veins to be worthy of comment. “After all, you’re here, aren’t you?”

“I happened to be in the neighborhood, relatively speaking,” Declan said. Sierra raised an eyebrow in question. “Noble House business. As this is.”

“You are kind to consider us part of the family when we have to distance ourselves from it for the sake of appearances.”

“It’s mostly so we get invited to the royal weddings,” Declan quipped. “I’m told Hapan princes and princesses get the most lavish affairs.”

“With luck there will be one soon,” Sierra said as she glided beside her cousin underneath arches that marked the approach to the palace.

Declan cocked his head to one side in mild surprise. “Which one?”

“Ivgenni. The easy one.”

“It does clear the decks for Corrine. I suppose the matter of marrying an heir to the throne falls just shy of open civil war around here,” Declan remarked.

“You’re not far off the mark,” Sierra said.

“At least there’s that.”

“To the contrary. The last time there was a marriageable chume’da I’m told that no less than four suitors unexpectedly perished,” Sierra stated placidly. “I’d say civil war is about right.”

Declan said nothing in response to that grim thought.

“But that’s a matter for another day.” The Queen Mother closed the conversation.

“As I mentioned after I got your missive, it was convenient to discuss this matter in person,” Declan pivoted. “What do you need?”

“I need nothing. A friend needs a considerable amount,” Sierra Chume stated. “It would chip away at our debt to the Vehns.”

“Not that anyone could knows who owes whom at this point,” Niall mumbled. He raised his voice to its previous level. “Eleanor too proud to ask?” Niall raised an eyebrow, a glint in his eyes.

“One of the adopted Vehns. Carley,” Sierra elaborated. She had led him into a receiving room with walls in a tortoise-shell resin. The maroon ceiling made the space feel intimate, cozy even, despite its size. “The Centrality finds itself in a bind.” She gracefully took a seat, her dress naturally fanning out around her like a corona.

Declan was already putting things together in his mind. “A bind that requires more resources than the Consortium can muster.” He waved away a servant who approached bearing a tray with refreshments.

“They are still rebuilding their domestic production capacity and I’ve expended as much on their behalf as is politically prudent, both her and on Erlinar. Carley is investing in the future, but it’s causing pain now. They struggle to have enough to feed and clothe their populace. Their imports and exports fall prey to pirates that they lack the resources to combat,” Sierra said.

“The bane of the independent systems,” Declan remarked. Though the Republic and Federation brought their share of taxes, they paid for fleets.

“Carley is aware that she’s limited in the degree to which she can deploy her military forces outside the Centrality,” Sierra stated. “But I suspect even if she had a free hand, she’d have difficulty fully policing all the Centrality’s trade routes.”

“So even if the D13 tolerated armed Centran convoys and took Carley on faith it’s not a covert way to expand Centran territory throughout the independent systems, that wouldn’t solve the problem,” Declan probed. Sierra nodded once. “She needs someone to help her deter the corsairs.”

“A trade partner with enough clout to put the fear of the Force into anyone who would go after their ships. Someone bigger than the Consortium.”

“And you think that’s the Republic,” Declan said, sitting back. His body language radiated that he was not pleased with the idea.

“They are the biggest vornskr in the forest,” Sierra confirmed.

“We both know that if the Centrality could afford Republican goods, they’d be buying them now,” Declan reasoned, “but they’re not. So you’re here asking me for what everyone wants from the Republic. A trade deal.”

“It was much more fun to let you reason your way there,” Sierra said offhandedly, fighting back a smile. Declan gave her a look. “If it helps, Carley’s modernizing the Centrality.”

“Oh?”

“She wants to put a legislature in place, begin power sharing with the populace.”

“Is it a done deal?” Declan asked. It was news to him, but he didn’t receive Republican Intelligence briefings.

“Everything she’s said to me makes me think Carley is committed to the idea. Publicly Hapes will frown in neutrality. Privately, I support her,” Sierra elaborated. “A liberalizing move like that should be supported by the Republic in the name of good government. A trade deal would be a strong signal.”

“Because the Republic doesn’t give them out that often.” Coruscant’s general view on the matter was that systems couldn’t have the benefits of membership without joining. “You know, it took Mom using every lever at her disposal to get one for the RTO.”

“Your side of the family likes to remind us all of that a few times a year. I’m asking you to see what you can do.”

“I don’t think I know enough beings with the clout to get one done if you put them all together. And even if I did, it sounds like the Centrality needs help sooner than later. Fast by Senate standards could be too late,” Declan said.

“I wasn’t going to say it,” Sierra agreed lightly.

Declan thought in silence. “How much do you think Carley needs this?”

“Enough that she’d ask me for it,” Sierra stated, “and she’s proud.”

The Galactic Senator tapped the armrest of the couch thoughtfully. “There might be a solution, but Carley probably won’t like it.”

“She is nothing if not pragmatic.”

Declan gave a slight hum as pieces solidified in his mind. “How far is it from here to the Centrality?”

“Shorter than if you were coming from Coruscant,” Sierra stated, reveling in the obvious.

“Am I going to need a letter of introduction?” Declan sighed. It seemed he wasn’t going to get back to Coruscant for a while. He was going to have to make a lot of calls between now and then.

 

Oooh very good Give me a jingle when you want to mingle.

 

I love it when you two keep each other busy. Declan has some work to do here, and it's a bit muddy as to whether it is Senatorial work or Noble House work.

 

@AzureAngel2 @jcgoble3 @Sinrebirth @Vehn

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Hapes

“So?” Ivgenni asked.

He was on one-knee, surrounded by flowers in a secluded spot in the palace gardens. The sun was shining, the sky blue, the blossoms vivid, the air warm. The light caught the facets of the large green gem in its aurodium setting. In keeping with everything about the royal grounds, there was no doubt the ring’s size was perfect.

Yet there was a noticeable pause. A palpable pause.

“This is the part where you say ‘yes, of course,’ while overflowing with excitement,” Ivgenni prompted, lifting the ring just a little bit higher.

A further pause.

“I thought the ladies proposed in the Consortium.”

“Usually. Princes are one of the exceptions. It’s basically comes down to supply and demand,” Ivgenni explained. He waited. “So…about that answer. Preferably an affirmative one?”

“I thought I wasn’t an acceptable choice,” Praire Hakewill pointed out as she remained standing above Ivgenni.

“I was recently made aware that I had assumed some limiting factors that weren’t actually important.”

“Such as?”

“I really don’t think I should answer that,” Ivgenni protested.

“All the best relationships are based on honesty,” Prairie commented.

“Can’t I just say that you’re wonderful and perfect?” Ivgenni asked.

“Hmmm…it’s tempting.” Praire tapped her chin, but didn’t actually agree.

“Also, this is starting to really hurt my knee, so it would be nice if we could get to the answer bit,” Ivgenni admitted.

“What if it’s not an answer you’ll like?”

“I’ll be heartbroken but I’ll save myself a knee replacement later in life.”

“Fine, stand up,” Praire said with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m pretty sure that I can’t until you give me an answer—unless that is the answer? I’ve never proposed to anyone before, so I’m not sure about some of the finer details,” Ivgenni admitted.

“Good, because then that would mean I was your second choice and I couldn’t stand for that. Though, speaking of…” Praire lowered herself until she was kneeling in front of the prince, their eyes almost level. “Seriously, Ivgenni. You told me that you had to find a spouse who could survive at court. What changed?”

He paused. “The answer might be awkward.”

“I’m not one of those wilting noble flowers you’ve been courting. Just a wildflower who accidentally got in the garden,” she reminded him. “Try me.”

“My mother. She…helped me realize that a marriage is a partnership, even one of those partners becomes a queen.”

“No!” Prairie exclaimed. “Are you really saying what I think you’re saying?” She didn’t wait for his reply. “Your mom likes me!”

“I’d say don’t let it go to your head, but you probably should.” Prairie laughed. “More specifically, she pointed out that the things I thought were stopping us from being together were things we could tackle together if it came to it.”

“So what would this mean? How many princess classes and tea parties am I going to have to go to?”

“You’ll need to learn some etiquette, but if you’d like to keep that to a minimum, there are 129 worlds not named Hapes we can live on. We can live on each of them in turn if that’s what you feel like,” Ivgenni said.

“And we can ditch the guards?” Prairie asked.

“Most of them,” Ivgenni promised.

“And what would life be like? Endless rounds of public events?”

“Only as many as you want. Everyone’s going to pay a lot more attention to Corrine than us. But trust me when I say there aren’t many closed doors to princesses. You’ll be able to do pretty much whatever you want.”

“What if I want to spend all my time weaving baskets?”

“You’ll be everyone’s favorite basket weaver. There’ll probably be a holozine about you and your baskets.”

“And if we leave we won’t be expected to come back to Hapes, except when we want?”

“There might be some birthdays and holidays, but we can mostly do whatever we want. Well, there are my Fleet orders to think about but—”

“But something tells me those won’t be a significant annoyance,” Prairie finished. “This is sounding pretty good. What’s the catch?”

“Me,” Ivgenni stated.

“Other than that glaringly obvious one.”

“There’s still the decent chance that one day we’re going to have to come back here to fight a civil war to keep the throne,” Ivgenni said.

“Or we could skip it and just go into exile,” Prairie suggested. “It’s not like the rest of your family is going to be around to object.”

“You really shouldn’t say that out loud,” Ivgenni informed her. “While in theory we could go to your estate in the Centrality—”

“Sorry. Can’t,” she interrupted again.

“What?”

“Sold it.”

“You sold your land?” Ivgenni asked in disbelief.

“Got a good price for it. The title’s not tied to the land. It’s all in investments and such now.” She waved a hand. “My aunt had beings for all that. There’s a house, but that’s about it.”

“Well, I guess that means we’d have to fall back on my Bakuran relatives,” Ivgenni said, “for the rest of our lives. As short as they’ll probably be.”

“Uhhhhh…”

“Right. Before you cut in I was going to tell you that whoever took the throne probably would send beings to kill us. Eliminating the existential threat to her rule and all.”

“Gosh,” Prairie said.

“The civil war might be simpler,” Ivgenni stated.

“That took a turn. Can we go back to the part where your mom likes me?” Prairie asked. “Despite the fact I’m not a real noble.”

“Neither was she. It might have been a point in your favor. Now, about that answer?” Ivgenni gestured to his still-kneeling posture.

“Oh! Right!” Prairie said, “Of course, silly. I mean, yes, I will. I do. Or whatever you’re supposed to say.”

“Oh thank the Force,” Ivgenni said. “Traditionally in the Consortium the female kisses the male but I’m not exactly sure—”

“That’s one tradition I like,” Prairie said and proceeded to lean forward and take his face with one hand and pull him in. “Now about that ring…I don’t suppose it’s negotiable?”

“Funny you should mention it. Since the female chooses the ring, this is technically a placeholder, but I thought it was a decent one,” Ivgenni said as they rose, relieving the pressure from their knees.

“Hmmmm…” Prairie took it from him and slipped it on her finger. She examined it at arm’s length. “I suppose I’ll have to see how it goes with my favorite outfit.”

“Which one is that?”

“The one I usually wear in your bedroom. Perhaps we should go see now?” she suggested.

Ivgenni didn’t need to be asked twice.

 

LMAO! I love the hilarity of the long, drawn-out proposal.

 

@AzureAngel2 @jcgoble3 @Sinrebirth @Vehn

Excerpts from BBC 304 federal election coverage

“What do you think of Shenandoah Trieste announcing her candidacy for Senate as an independent?” the reporter asked a passerby they’d been able to corral.

“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, is she really qualified?” the being replied.

“I mean, I liked her mother, but I don’t know much about her to be honest,” another said when given the same question.

“I’d vote for her. For sure.”

“I haven’t heard anything about her positions. I couldn’t really say without hearing about what she wants to do.”

“I think we’ve had enough of the Triestes, don’t you? It’s time for some new blood in the Senate.”

“She’s running for Senate? Hadn’t heard.”

“I’ve been a Fianna Fail voter my entire life. Ordinarily I would have voted for her because I like the Triestes, but if she’s not going with the party, I don’t think I’ll support her.”

---

Salis D’aar, Bakura

“I’m so happy to be here with you today,” Shenandoah told the group. “It’s such a privilege to be here. In fact, I’d rather be here than if they’d filled every seat in the Gardens for me.” The group laughed. “No, really! I’ve had the privilege of spending a lot of time there in my life, but this is vastly more fun.

“Now, before we get into our conversation, I just want to talk a bit about why I’m running for Senate. Neither of the other candidates in this race are talking about making real changes that are going to improve the lives of the beings who most need it.

“I’m sure we’ll talk about those kinds of structural changes I support later, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on them, but I’d like to start by talking about species equity,” Shenandoah continued.

“This is something that’s really important to me. I talked about the Gardens before and I’ve got a lot of wonderful memories from there. But more than the Galactic Cup championships, the day I remember most of all was the one when my mom stood on the field next to Harle Quinn and raised her fist in solidarity over police shootings of xenobeings. That’s what sticks with me.

“I saw how important this was to my mom, how much she wanted to do something about this. But the tragedy is that even after her time in Marian Square, xenobeings are still being shot and killed at higher rates than Humans on Bakura. It’s been over 15 years and beings are still dying. It breaks my heart and it’s something that will be a key priority for me if I’m elected.

“Some counties have made progress on this front and we need to learn from them and adopt federal laws that address this problem. Bakura is safe for no one if it isn’t safe for all of us,” Shenandoah said.

She blew out her breath. “Well, I think I’ve talked long enough! It’s time I heard from all of you. Who’d like to begin.”

The candidate looked out at the living room, occupied by six Human great-grandmothers who formed a book club in their building. If you’d asked any of them, they would have told you that Shenandoah was telling the truth: she honestly was thrilled to be with just six voters instead of sixty thousand.

And they were right.

And when she shook the last hand and left, she had six votes locked up.

 

Did I honestly expect Shenandoah to campaign any differently?

 

@AzureAngel2 @jcgoble3 @Sinrebirth @Vehn

Hapes

Lillias Camax felt the buzz as if it was a swarm of mace flies occupying the palace. Royal engagements didn’t happen every day. Even in the stately calm of the heart of the Consortium it generated considerable excitement, though they restrained themselves so it only bubbled beneath the collected countenances of courtiers, servants, and guards.

Two of the latter escorted the Centran through the halls and galleries, deeper than Ivgenni had ever brought her. That made sense: she wasn’t here to see Ivgenni.

A set of solid doors were opened by another pair of guards, wordlessly implying that she was to continue through them alone. Reminding herself to keep her head up, Lillias walked through. The great doors shut behind her silently.

In preparing for this moment, Lillias had decided she would curtsey, even though she had selected a slacks and blazer outfit for the event. She walked forward and stopped before the desk that dominated the study with its light blue and white walls. She executed what she hoped would be a satisfactory downward motion, if perhaps slightly hasty given nerves that the Centran didn’t want to admit to.

“Ms. Camax,” Queen Mother Sierra Chume said, rising from behind the desk. She led with one hand to indicate two chairs with a tea service on a low table between them. “Thank you for coming.”

Lillias decided against pointing out she wasn’t sure that, even as a foreign national, she had much choice in the matter. “It is my pleasure, Your Majesty.”

Sierra waited for her guest to sit before doing the same. “Do you enjoy tea?”

Lillias paused. “Honestly, no.”

The Queen Mother smiled. “It’s an acquired taste. We tolerate it because everyone expect us to like it. Sometimes it’s easier to lean into expectations than to defy them. In that regard, you have our admiration, Ms. Camax.”

“Your Majesty?”

“Call me Sierra if you like. Caf, perhaps?”

“Yes. That is yes to caf. But it’s hard for me to call the Queen Mother by her first name.”

“Ma’am is acceptable, but I was Ms. Iseult before I was even chume’da,” Sierra said. In response to the touch of a button by the Queen Mother, a servant brought a silver platter with the makings of caf, removing the tea tray and withdrawing.

“Yes, ma’am,” Lillias replied, opting for the most formal of the options. It felt safest. “Though I was taking your cue with the plural first-person pronouns.”

“Indeed. It’s become habit, even when it needn’t be.” After pouring the caf to Lillias’s specifications, Sierra resumed their conversation where it had left off. “My admiration for you comes from the fact that you did not abandon or deny your identity for a prize many of your peers would have given up all for.”

“Your son?” Lillias ventured.

“Yes,” Sierra murmured her lips hovering above the edge of her cup. She lightly blew on the steaming brew, causing small ripples to cross its surface. “You could have taken my son as your husband and kept lovers to your liking with no judgment. You would not have been the first princess—or queen mother—of the Consortium to do so.”

“I’m sure. But the Consortium deserves better royals than that.”

“You have more principles than most who cross the halls of the palace.”

“Then it’s good for me that I did not become one of them,” Lillias said, surprised at her unexpected boldness.

“Indeed.” The Queen Mother smiled slightly. “I hope you know you would have been a fine queen mother.”

Lillias’s eyes flitted down to her caf. “You do me too much kindness.”

“To the contrary. You did my family much more than kindness in your assistance to Ivgenni. Even when dealing with Centran suitors, the slightest indication from the crown can be blown out of proportion and make things difficult. Your unofficial assistance son helped make my son’s betrothal possible.

“Ivgenni has suggested you should be properly recognized for your efforts and I agree,” the Queen Mother stated.

“I—”

A hand gently raised forestalled the protestation. “Service rendered without expectation of recompense is doubly worthy of reward,” Sierra said. “I am told you near the end of your studies at the Royal College and you will return to the Centrality at the end of the term. Your nation will be the better for you bringing your intellect and expertise home.

“I said you have worked unofficially on behalf of my son. I wish to formalize that arrangement, on behalf of my entire family,” the Queen Mother explained. “Thanks to the Queendom Pact, the Consortium has much business to be overseen and managed in your homelands. It would be our pleasure to appoint you as the crown’s agent for our business affairs in the Centrality.”

“Your Majesty,” Lillias protested gently, “I could not possibly. I am not a Hapan.”

“As you have proven you are worthy of trust in small things, so I believe you shall be in large ones,” Sierra stated kindly. “Besides, this benefits me. A Centran will get more done on her home soil than any Hapan could as a visitor.

“Ivgenni says you came to the Consortium to secure your future, one not guaranteed by title or land,” she added. “I imagine the compensation this post will further assist you in that end.” Sierra added one more thought, almost in passing. “As will the information you will come by in the course of your official duties.”

“I do not imagine you will be popular for putting a Centran in charge of your affairs. Surely others covet this role,” Lillias said carefully.

“This is Hapes. Everyone covets everything.” Sierra made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “It is time for the incumbent to rotate home after her term of duty anyways. As for feelings about you, those who would seek this position also know of your role in Ivgenni’s matchmaking. Your stock here is high. They will not oppose you, so the risk to me is small. This is the optimum time for your appointment.”

The Queen Mother set her cup of caf down. “I would not give you this opportunity if I did not think you ready for it. But it is your choice.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Lillias said, “I humbly accept.”

Sierra extended her hand over the carafe of caf. “Excellent. We will do good business for both our nations together, Lillias.”

The Centran shook it firmly. “Indeed we will, Ms. Iseult.”

 

A fine addition to the Royal Family indeed! Well done!

 

@AzureAngel2 @jcgoble3 @Sinrebirth @Vehn

Galactic Senate, Coruscant

“Senator Thwipp is here for you, senator,” was the announcement from Declan’s receptionist.

From a reading chair, he leaned across his desk to reach for the comm button, breaking off his reading. “Please send her in immediately.” Declan laid his datapad aside and stood to greet his unexpected guest. “Senator, what a pleasure.”

The willowy Twi’lek representative for Empress Teta entered the office, every movement imbued with grace. She extended one hand in greeting and the colleagues shook. “A long overdue visit on my part,” Sannae Thwipp said. She was the leader of the Solidarity caucus of senators, the progressive wing of the Senate to which Declan belonged. Bloc leaders did not often go to their members. It was almost always the other way around.

“Something to drink?” Declan offered.

“No, thank you. Not on the Senate’s time,” she said kindly as Declan gestured for her to join him on the comfortable sofas that hovered above the ground courtesy of Bakuran-made repulsors. Most senators featured the specialties of the sectors they represented and Declan was as prone to the practice as any.

“What can I do for you today?” Declan asked as he settled in.

“I’m here to indulge my curiosity,” Sannae said as she crossed her legs and settled in. “I’ve been trying to work out why a senator would turn down an assignment to the Committee on Foreign Affairs when he is so clearly able to broker agreements between major governments in the galaxy.” Before Declan could reply, she added. “Though the media has yet to report it, the diplomatic community here in the capital is buzzing with your shuttle diplomacy between the Corporate Sector and the Centrality. Perhaps even with a stop in the Consortium?”

Declan declined to confirm the latter point. “Unfortunately, committee members do not get to actually engage in diplomacy, just second-guess those who do.”

The Twi’lek flashed her teeth in a smile for a moment. “Not an answer to my question.”

“I came to Coruscant to do work for the beings of the Republic. I can do much more of that on Justice than I can on Foreign Affairs.”

“As you said when you declined the assignment initially,” Sannae stated, “but your recent accomplishments make it difficult for me to justify having you on the bench when you could be raising Solidarity’s profile.”

“Then this is a visit about my role and value to the party,” Declan surmized.

“Indeed.” The leader did not deign to deny it.

“That is easily rectified,” Declan stated. He stood and went to his desk to press the comm button again. “Please contact the speaker’s dais. Have them place me on the schedule when convenient.”

“Of course, senator.”

Declan lifted his finger and returned to the sofa and the amused expression of Senator Thwipp. “Well well well. You have my attention now, senator,” she said.

The Bakuran gave a small smile as if to indicate he’d anticipated that. “I trust I’ll see you in the chamber then?”

“I suspect you will see many of us there,” Sannae Thwipp prophesized.

The maiden speech of Senator Declan Trieste was finally coming.

 

I eagerly look forward to that maiden speech. I expect it will be nothing short of amazing and powerful.

 

@AzureAngel2 @jcgoble3 @Sinrebirth @Vehn

University of Bakura, Salis D’aar, Bakura

“Let’s get one thing out of the way right now,” Niall Trieste said to the half-full classroom of students in front of him. “Senator Evenrarde is going to get reelected.”

Night had fallen, the light filtering into the room through the windows coming only from the illumination of nearby buildings on campus. Niall spoke not to a political science class, but to the Young Fianna Fail Club of UBSD. It was one of several liberal-leaning student groups he’d arranged to meet here and at rival Tiarest University. It hadn’t been so long ago he’d been a student like them.

“And she will be a fine senator for this district,” Niall continued. “She has good ideas and the right priorities. I tell you this because if you’re like me, you’re probably thinking of taking an active part in our democracy with this year’s elections.

“I’m here to encourage you to put your talents to use in a race that’s going to matter. As you’ve probably guessed, it’s the one my sister is running on the other side of town.

“I realize that not all of you are going to be interested in volunteering for a campaign that’s not for someone in Fianna Fail,” Niall admitted. “This is the Young Fianna Fail Club, after all. But blind allegiance to party does not serve democracy. You need to think about what you believe in and which candidate best stands for those values. And if you actually look at what Senator Roslowe stands for—relaxing regulations and taxes on corporations, cutting social programs in the name of lowering federal spending, trickledown weakening of environmental protections—I think many of you aren’t going to find he’s a candidate you agree with on the balance.

“My sister believes that corporations need to be equal participants in Bakuran society, not a favored class of entities, who wants our government to work for beings, not boardrooms. She’s taking a stand against the pull to the right that a lot of Fianna Fail senators are participating in. They might not even realize they’re doing it, but it’s happening all the same.

“I’ll be honest: my sister will probably lose this election,” Niall said. “It’s been a long time since an independent candidate won a Senate race. This is not the smart move. And that means signing up to help with our campaign is not the smart move. I can’t tell you that this is going to look good on your resume or get you a good internship. It might even get in the way of those things.

“I want you to think 100 years from now.” A Bakuran college student would easily be alive in a century. “What are you going to be more likely to think about? That you got a job that paid you 2,000 more credits than another job you might have had? Or that you stood for something you believed in and tried to make Bakura a better place, even if you failed?”

Niall let that sit for a moment.

“I know you’ve got a lot to talk about tonight, so I’ll leave things there. I’ll stick around until the end in case any of you want to find out how you can get involved with the campaign. I appreciate your time, and go Bears.”

He received polite applause as he took a seat among the students, resuming his position of just a few years ago. Unlike other speakers who had come to the Young Fianna Fail Club, he didn’t take out his datapad during the discussion, waiting until the end. He listened and occasionally offered his own thoughts in the form of questions that were open-ended and stimulated the debate instead of offering talking points that supported Shenandoah’s positions. As the group dispersed at the evening’s end, six stayed behind to ask about how they could help with Shenandoah’s campaign.

It was six by six, club by club, organization by organization, night by night that Niall built his volunteer corps who would be the foot soldiers of Trieste for Senate ’04.

 

She got six votes, he got six foot soldiers. Six by six is the fix.

Good to see Niall supporting his sister.

 

@AzureAngel2 @jcgoble3 @Sinrebirth @Vehn The longest of longtime readers will remember when I used this musical cue before. I thought it would provide some fitting symmetry.

​

Galactic Senate, Coruscant

The Galactic Senate gathered in the chamber for four reasons. The first was to vote on legislation that had advanced to the floor. The second was to listen to speakers. Most often this was the Supreme Chancellor, but foreign dignitaries could also be accorded the honor.

The remaining two reasons were for debate, one of the Senate’s great traditions and privileges. Most debate time was devoted to bills that had advanced to the floor for votes. A lesser amount of time was marked for open debate. While this often touched on legislative priorities of senators and legislation they desired, senators had the right to speak on any topic they deemed would be of value to the proceedings of the Senate. It was, admittedly, a broad definition that had resulted in odd speeches in the Senatorial Record.

Attendance during debate was sparse. Only the most prominent bills garnered the attendance of senators during legislative debate (often in direct correlation to media attention on said bills). Open debate saw even fewer seats filled. Most often senators appeared during debate time to read speeches into the record. They then promoted their remarks to their constituents, neglecting to mention these grand thoughts had been delivered to a nearly-empty chamber.

For this morning’s open debate period, however, the Galactic Senate was nearly bursting at the seams. Not only were most senators in attendance, but the gallery was packed with observers who had clamored for passes.

They had all come for one reason—and the speaker’s dais knew it. The duties of the speaker were usually rotated through members of the governing coalition, but today the Speaker herself presided. After all, she was just as curious as everyone else about what was to be said today.

“We will now commence open debate,” the Speaker declared, her voice amplified to carry through the cavernous chamber. “The dais recognizes the senator from the Bakura Sector.” Vast though the space was, these halls of power hushed at the announcement.

“Thank you, Madam Speaker,” Senator Declan Trieste said, standing to deliver his remarks. “I am flattered by the robust attendance in the chamber today. As a regular attendee of debate time, I can attest that the floor and galleries are fuller than usual today. I mention this not out of vanity, but because colleagues have informed me of a curiosity over the fact that I have not, until now, risen to speak before the Senate. Though, given the number of new faces I see today, I’m surprised anyone noticed.”

Though the last remark was delivered with malice, everyone noted the joke contained a subtle jab at absentee senators.

“Allow me to satisfy that curiosity now.

“Since taking my seat in the Senate, I have attended to my committee and subcommittee duties. My colleagues who serve with me in that capacity will attest to the fact that I am far from silent during hearings. After many years on my homeworld appearing before committees, I have found great pleasure and value in the opportunity to ask questions related to policy areas of the committee.

“When I am not in committee or on the Senate floor, I spend my time reviewing the legislation that comes before the Justice Committee as well as legislation that has advanced to the floor. I take the, apparently unorthodox, view that if I am to vote on a bill, it is my responsibility to understand it before putting my name for or against it.

“Thus, the great mystery is laid bare. I have pursued the duties of my office instead of making speeches to a mostly-empty Senate,” Declan stated. “I trust my colleagues and the members of the public who found my silence puzzling will rest easy.”

It was an unremarkable speech.

“But since I have the floor,” Declan resumed, “allow me to make some additional, related remarks.”

And it was not done. Several beings in the gallery, and more on the floor, imperceptibly leaned forward.

“The Senate has come to a sorry state if doing one’s job, the very thing that our constituents expect of us, is the cause of obsession across Coruscant. If this is who we have become, then I fear we are in danger of repeating the mistakes of the Old Republic, weakened by style over substance,” Declan warned. “This body has the ability—no, the privilege to influence the lives of every Republican. With such power comes duty. I like, every member of this Senate, swore I would ‘well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter.’ It is our duty to use our time well, in the interest of those whom we represent and the Republic as a whole.

“When I came to Coruscant, I assumed that by attending debate and committee meetings and coming to informed opinions on legislation I would best serve our republic. Instead, quietly doing my job—the very thing that quadrillions of beings we represent do daily—was viewed as an oddity. In fact, it shocked my colleagues that someone who had not made a grandiloquent speech on the Senate floor could broker relations between two great powers of the galaxy. I should have thought it was precisely the opposite: that the beings most likely to effect change are the ones who do the work instead of grandstanding.

“If this is the Senate of our day, so be it,” Declan said. Though his voice was steady, thunder lurked below the surface.

“But I shall not bow to it.

“Since you seem to only listen to speeches, then I shall not be silent in this chamber again. You shall know my positions, ones based on the provisions of bills and the convictions of my soul, not talking points provided by campaign donors or party lines from blocs.

“And I will defend my positions against all comers,” Declan vowed. “Those who wish to come to the floor for a true debate—as this body was founded to encourage and foster—will find me here if they wish to test the strength of their arguments. Together we may find new solutions through dialogue and mutual understanding that benefit the entire Republic, not narrow interests of the few and influential.

“Perhaps I will merely be a being shouting into the wind. But if nothing that I do matters, then the only thing that matters is what I do. I will stand alone in the name of good government, of doing work that serves the public instead of the governing class. For those who wish to join me in returning the business of the Senate to the Republic instead of the perpetuation of our power, whatever your political philosophy, you will find me here, ready and willing to talk about the issues.

“Some may claim I have the freedom to be unorthodox, contrarian even, because I did not seek this office. I tell you: I have no freedom at all. In accepting this office, I am beholden to those who elected me to it, to doing the work that they expect of their senator. Should I fail to serve them, then I will have to answer to my Maker for my failings.

“I will end with this question to my fellow senators,” Declan said, sweeping the room with his eyes, “If you took away all the credits, all the slogans, all the media coverage, could you stand for reelection on the strength of the work you have done here? Not the policies you support, but the work, successful or not.

“I can—and will. May we all be able to do so, and may the Force be with us.”

Declan sat, concluding his remarks. All was silent for a moment, until the applause began in the galleries. It was not his fellow senators who lifted their hands in praise, but the citizens. Only when they made their approbation known did some senators follow suit—but not all. Of those who came to their feet, Declan could see Senator Thwipp. He would not be surprised to learn later that many Solidarity senators followed her lead. Declan could see one other senator on his feet: Gavin Serling of Eriadu, who bore a broad smirk.

Though Declan remained impassive in the face of this praise, perhaps the corner of his mouth tugged upward the barest amount. Perhaps everything had gone according to plan.

 

Declan is 100% right, both in the Galactic Senate and in real life. Excellently done.

And at the very end, I note that he intends to seek reelection. I think he'll win that easily.

 

Beautifully written speech. And the music choice was wonderful as well. Go Declan Go!

 

@AzureAngel2 @jcgoble3 @Sinrebirth @Vehn I know I have a lot of characters...but don't you think we could use one more?

​

Nar Shaddaa

Lucien’s eyes slowly opened. Contrary to popular opinion, the Smuggler’s Moon was not perpetually shrouded in darkness. The sun did shine here. As usual, it seemed a bit too bright. Was it so much to ask that a being be able to sleep until noon? 11:00 in the morning at the absolute earliest.

With a feline stretch of his limbs, Lucien disentangled himself from his companions from the night before. They were still sleeping—good for them, it had certainly been a vigorous evening—and he pressed a button on his datapad for the usual breakfast to be sent up to the penthouse.

That gave him enough time to shower, warm blasts of water from no less than six directions cascading across his chiseled body. He sighed as his muscles unknotted. How other beings made do with just one showerhead was a mystery to him. It was simply no way to live. He was even made to understand that most beings didn’t use Mon Calamari body wash. If the shower hadn’t felt so good, he would have shuddered at the barbarity.

After toweling off, he wrapped himself in the embrace of a burgundy shimmersilk robe that ended midway down his thighs. Breakfast was already waiting at the island in his open-concept living room, which was capped with a wall fully stocked with choice liquor. As he inhaled the armoa of the meal, he reflected that he really had worked up an appetite last night. What a Kubaz could do with his nose was really underrated…and female Devaronians should certainly have horns like their male relatives, or at least this one should given the peculiar set of skills she’d deployed last night…

As he enjoyed his breakfast (and, to be honest, a generous prandial in his fresh juice), Lucien scrolled through the summary of last night’s receipts on his datapad. As usual Hedon had turned a tidy profit last night. It was one of Nar Shaddaa’s most popular nightclubs—and definitely the best in Lucien’s honest, biased opinion. After all, he personally oversaw its operation. What better way was there to attest to its excellence?

Granted, Lucien didn’t actually do any work when Hedon was open. He had beings for that. He liberally interpreted his duties as owner to include enjoying the club along with his patrons (quality assurance testing, if you asked his accountant), but the balance sheet didn’t lie. Hedon more than paid for his epicurean lifestyle. In fact, perhaps it was time for a vacation to the Gold Beaches of Corellia. With a final bite of tipyip omelette in his mouth, Lucien leaned back to look at his still-slumbering sleepover guests through the doorway to the bedroom. Perhaps they’d be interested in accompanying him…

Though, now that he thought of it, the Dazari Family had booked a suite of tables tonight. They always tipped better when he made an appearance and took a round of shots with them. Most beings would look at the impending visit of a rising organized crime operations (all efforts of mayors of the Vertical City to the contrary, the families were still alive and kicking) with trepidation, but Lucien had an understanding with all his patrons who led less than above-board lives: do your business elsewhere, don’t bring your blasters inside, pay your tab when asked, and you were welcome at Hedon. In fact, Lucien had been known to do favors for time to time for his clients, legitimate or otherwise. He now had quite the holodex of chits, stored away for a rainy day.

His morning repast complete, Lucien entered his walk-in wardrobe to select his attire from the day. The hangars and shelves featured only the finest threads the galaxy had to offer. Every piece was precisely tailored to highlight his excellent frame. Seamstresses had no need to employ flattery through their art, just to showcase the body they draped. Never mind that one outfit was a month’s salary for some Nar Shaddans. It was worth every centicred. It would be a crime not to grace the galaxy with beauty like this.

Ready to greet the day (unlike his still sleeping guests), Lucien entered his private turbolift. It provided express service straight to Hedon, which occupied the ground floor of the building. (At least it was what passed for ground in the Vertical City. Who knew where the ground actually was anymore?) He adjusted his cuffs, satisfied with nothing less than sartorial perfection. One had to keep up appearances.

When the turbolift doors opened, Lucien strode out onto the balcony level of Hedon. The lights were on as the staff prepared for another evening of revelry. All the most intense cleaning had taken place while Lucien was asleep (or at least in bed) and now the day staff were restocking supplies to be ready for the evening.

“Keene, the inventory says we’re getting low on Carratosian rum. I know the Pirates aren’t coming around anytime soon, but it’s still a hot seller. Besides, how am I supposed to toast the next smuggler-themed bachelorette party without any rum?” Lucien asked rhetorically as he neatly skipped down the stairs to the dance floor with its broad bar made to service a dozen or more patrons at once.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” a voice that wasn’t his manager Keene’s replied.

Lucien knew that voice. He whipped around.

“Hello, Lucien,” Dariah Morningstar said from a barstool, a glass of pink-colored juice sitting next to her.

Lucien’s body tensed. He didn’t even turn around, for his jaw suddenly clenched and his hands curled into fists. “You,” Lucien growled, almost shaking with rage.

“Come come,” Dariah said casually as she swirled the swizzle stick in her drink. “Is that any way to talk to your mother?”

 

@AzureAngel2 @jcgoble3 @Sinrebirth @Vehn

​

Galactic Senate, Coruscant

When Declan Trieste left the floor of the Senate, his colleagues observed a new purpose in his step. He possessed energy and momentum where once he had seemingly been inert. He hadn’t taken two steps into the Solidarity cloakroom before one of his colleagues rushed forward to clasp his hand.

“Fabulous, fabulous speech, Declan. What a clarion call for centering ourselves on public service.”

“A brilliant jeremiad,” another senator said, joining the praise. “You’ve shown them all up.”

“Careful, senator,” Declan said. The use of the formal title reflected not professional formality, but ignorance. This member of his caucus this senator had never taken the time to introduce himself to Declan. “Don’t crow too much, lest you’re unable to meet the standard you hold others to.” Though there was an air of jest in the Bakuran’s voice, there was an undercurrent of wry caution.

“Indeed,” Senator Thwipp said, joining her party. “We know that we are not the largest bloc, but perhaps we should show the Republic that we are the most responsible bloc.” The leader seemed to have some ideas about what that would look like. “For someone who professes to enjoy doing the work so much, you give as fine a speech as we were led to believe you did in your days in the Outer Rim.”

“The two can coexist,” Declan pointed out with a small smile, “or weren’t you listening?”

“To the contrary, I heard you loud and clear,” Thwipp said, returning the smile. “I hope we will all be hard-pressed to ignore you from here on out.”

“If needs be, senator,” Declan said. “If needs be.”

---

On his way back to his office, Declan received one of two greetings from nearly every being he passed.

The first was lavish praise, often accompanied by an eager handshake. The expressions of approval for, as one being put it, “the radical basics” of Declan’s argument were effusive and glowing. “This is what beings expect the Senate to do. You follow through with this and you’ll be a hero to everyday Republicans.” Declan accepted their thoughts with thanks.

The second was a complete lack of notice. If these beings were any more hostile, it would have been the age-old practice of “the cut,” the intentional snub. Declan didn’t need any words to comprehend their thoughts. What do you think you’re doing? Grandstanding by rocking the boat? This isn’t how Coruscant works. You’ll learn soon enough—and painfully. Declan let their disdainful looks slide by without breaking his stride. He had been flying in the face of the supposedly-possible for long enough he didn’t give it much thought anymore.

When he reached his office, he found his staff scrambling to answer the incoming comms, which seemed to flood in through every available wavelength. They formed a disjointed chorus of “Senator Trieste’s office,” “I’ll pass that along,” “Please hold,” “Thank you very much,” as they picked up. His receptionist caught his eye as she placed a hand over her comm.

“Media requests for interviews, citizen comments—running three to one in favor right now—and meeting requests from other senators,” the explained before returning to the comm. “Yes, thank you for holding.”

Declan left them to handle the influx without his meddling, passing into his private office, the door sliding shut behind him. He sat behind his desk, easing his body into the repulsor chair, which bobbed slightly as it accepted his weight. He pressed a button to open the lower right drawer of the desk, which popped open with a hiss. Declan withdrew an unopened bottle of whiskey and a tumbler. He twisted the cap off with a crack as the seal broke and poured a finger’s worth into the glass.

Before he could raise it to his lips, he heard the soft chime of his datapad inside one of the other drawers. He found it and ignored the flood of new messages that had come in since his speech in favor of one in particular.

That won’t have made you many friends. But the friends it has made you are the ones you want. Nicely done.

Mom

Declan set the datapad down on his desk with a smile. He’d thought his mother would have appreciated that. Picking up his glass, Declan raised it in a toast.

“I’m back now, darling,” Declan said as he pointed the glass in the direction of the Chelli portrait of Ayn sitting on the beach. It had arrived from Kilmainham Brook two days ago. It no longer belonged in the shadows of the family seat. “We’re back.”

He put his feet up on his desk as he took a healthy drink. Though Ayn looked off into an unseen distance, for the first time since the paint had tried she and Declan had their eyes on the same thing.

 

@AzureAngel2 @jcgoble3 @Sinrebirth @Vehn

Hedon, Nar Shaddaa

“Out,” Lucien demanded, pointing a resolute finger at the door of the club. “Get out.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Darriah said with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m sorry—based on how our last time together went, I thought that was what we said to each other in this family,” Lucien replied bitterly. He walked to the other end of the bar and leaned over it to search the bottles for something strong. Or perhaps heavy enough to be a weapon.

“You tried to take CDS from me,” Darriah pointed out. “I had to make sure that our competitors, both in business and at court, knew who was still in charge.”

“Message received, Mom,” Lucien growled. “Loud and clear.” He straightened with a bottle of raava in his hand. “Not from Chandrila, but it’ll do.”

“Lucien, I’m here to put that behind us. Your exile is finished. It’s time for you to come home,” Darriah said.

“Yes, that’s right. Let’s brush it off like it never happened,” Lucien said, pouring a more than healthy swig into a glass. “‘Come home, son, and we can all pretend I never kicked you out and left you to fend for yourself alone.’”

“You clearly did well for yourself, even if you channeled your energy into something whose sole purpose was to justify your lifestyle.” Darriah gestured to the club.

“I don’t think you get to criticize my professional path after shutting down my ambition, Mom,” Lucien replied churlishly.

“And I don’t think you really wanted to run CDS. I think you just chafed at what you thought your role was in the Consortium.”

“You’ve added psychotherapy to your repertoire, have you? Well, I’m sorry but I don’t have any of those long couches to lay down on around here.” Lucien gestured with his glass to the club floor. Darriah looked pointedly at a bank of couches and Lucien followed her gaze. “Those aren’t designed for lying on. They’re more for…dancing on and…other…fun things that you wouldn’t know anything about.”

“I was young once, Lucien. I think I can guess.”

“Of course you can, since you know everything, including what’s best for everyone,” Lucien said sarcastically.

“I wish you’d give me a little credit. I came here, I’m calling you Lucien as you want instead of—”

“Do not say that name,” Lucien cut her off sharply.

“I wasn’t going to.” Darriah raised her hands in preemptive surrender. “But all this? The rebellion? The acting out? It’s done now.”

“Why? So you can marry me off to some new ally like Amenadiel and Uriel?” Lucien cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “Just because I don’t live in the Consortium doesn’t mean I don’t keep informed. Sad to say, but it looks like you did that job too well. I imagine you have a thank you note from Sierra Chume for handing her such a stalwart partner in the Centrality. Really got your way with that one, didn’t you?”

“Our allies in the Centality are not the Queen Mother’s,” Darriah stated.

“For once we agree, Mom. They’re far inferior to hers.”

Darriah steered the conversation away from that and to her original purpose. “I have a plan and you’re an important part of that.”

“Have you not been paying attention at all? I’m finished with your plans,” Lucien shot back, slamming his glass onto the bar with a heavy thunk. Had he not already drained off a fair amount of liquor, it would have sloshed over the side.

“And you have so many plans here,” Darriah said, fully willing to employ sarcasm herself.

“You know what they say: better to reign in Nar Shaddaa than to serve in Hapes,” Lucien countered.

Darriah stood, leaving her drink barely touched. “I can see you’re in no mood to be reasonable and I know better than to try to have a conversation with you when you’re like this. But know this: you can come home anytime. This—” She swirled a finger at their surroundings. “—is a perpetuation of your petulance from here forward. You won’t have me as an excuse for wasting your time here. When you’re ready to accept some responsibility for your life, you’ll know where to find me.”

“Oh I’ve got plenty of responsibilities here!” Lucien called after Darriah as she left. “Don’t you worry about that! And in case it wasn’t clear, I’m definitely talking about sex and a whole panoply of debauchery!”

When his mother was out of sight, Lucien looked into his glass for a moment before throwing what remained back in a single gulp. “Well, I guess I’d better get to work then.” Perhaps his guests were awake and had recovered their stamina…

 

That didn't seem to go well. Now what?

 

@AzureAngel2 @jcgoble3 @Sinrebirth @Vehn

​

Salis D’aar, Bakura

Niall stood in the back of a school gym, which had been set up with chairs for Shenandoah’s community question and answer session. Not every seat was full, but they’d pulled somewhere around 30 or 40 beings—if you counted the kids who couldn’t vote (and Niall did). Anyone who went through the trouble of hauling their family to a candidate forum was a voter Niall wanted to win. He’d detailed some of the volunteers to provide some light childcare in a corner of the gym so the parents could focus on the issues. In particular, he’d reminded Doe to talk about the importance of continuing to fully fund childcare.

“Psst, Mr. Big Campaign Manager.”

Niall turned, already smiling, to find Niamh next to him.

“Hey,” he said warmly, if softly so as not to distract anyone from Doe and the questions she was fielding. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”

“I’ve got news,” she said. She seemed ready to burst—and did. “I’m a lawyer!”

Niall swept her into a hug, punctuating it with a kiss. “You passed the bar? I’m so proud of you!”

“I can’t believe it! I already let Mom and Dad know, but I couldn’t wait to let you know,” Niamh gushed. Niall had been adjacent to Niamh’s law school travails and cramming for the key test that capped her studies.

“We’ll have to celebrate tonight. Drinks. I could get us into the club if you want.”

They stepped into the hallway outside the gym so they didn’t disrupt the forum with their further conversation. “We don’t have to do anything that fancy.” It was unspoken that was a secondary concern. Club 33, to which the Noble House had a family membership, was a favorite haunt of Fianna Fail politicians, none of whom were too enamored with Shenandoah and Niall these days, threatening one of their safe seats in the Senate. “We can just go to The Harp.” It was their neighborhood pub, which made it convenient, even if it was routine.

“We’ll buy a round for everyone,” Niall promised. “Have you told Skellan & Flarsh yet?”

“No, I’ll let them know in the morning.” The corporate law firm had hosted Niamh for her summer associate work between her second and third years of law school. It was common to be invited back as a full associate if you passed the bar. “Have to start paying those law school loans.”

“That’s a tomorrow Niamh problem,” Niall said. “Tonight, you’ll be practicing at the bar of The Harp.”

Niamh rolled her eyes. “Only you would make that joke.”

“It’s why you love me.”

“It’s at the bottom of the list, but it’s on the list.” She kissed him on the cheek. “How much longer here?”

“Half an hour. You go ahead. I’ll meet you there,” Niall said.

“Nah, I can wait.”

“Just to put away some chairs? Please. That’s what we have volunteers for. I’ll be there soon enough,” Niall promised. “Go get a head start. You earned it.”

---

The next morning, Niamh squinted against the sunlight that wasn’t completely filtered out by the window shades. The celebration at The Harp had gone into the early morning. She felt lucky she remembered it…though the price for that was the headache she had now.

“Caf?” Niall offered, a cup of the same in an extended hand as he sat on the bed.

“Could you make it a bacta tank?” Niamh mumbled, pulling her pillow over her head to deaden the pounding. “How are you up?”

“If I learned anything from Grandma, it’s that you need a sturdy liver to make it in politics. Also, keep a healthy amount of meds on hand.” He put the mug of caf down and instead extended a couple pills in an outstretched palm. Niamh gratefully clutched them and tossed them back.

“I realize this might be a poor moment to bring this up and I don’t get a say in this—”

“Not the morning to wax loquacious, Trieste,” Niamh said, sheltering beneath the pillow again.

He got the message. “I wouldn’t take the Skellan job yet.”

That got Niamh to lift the edge of her pillow to look at her boyfriend. “Explain.”

“I’d like to make my own offer.”

“Did you found a law firm while I wasn’t paying attention?”

“No, but you’ve said over the last three years that you really want to do appellate litigation. That’s not Skellan’s specialty. I’m confident that Uncle Atticus, Aunt Regan, and Trixie could get you an interview with someone doing that. Maybe even one of the major nonprofits who take on test cases,” Niall said. “Between them they probably know most everyone, especially in Salis D’aar.”

“That’s nice of you, but the nonprofits pay like Sithspit, especially when you’ve got law school loans to pay off,” Niamh reminded him. “And the firms who do pay well represent corporations I’d rather not defend. Contract law has a lot less pitfalls.”

“About that…” Niall said. “My family has a long-standing position of taking care of university debts for members of the family.” He placed a long, thin case on the bed between them and opened it to reveal a braided silver chain. “I think the tradition could be extended to included fiancées. It can be a long engagement if you’re not ready. I just didn’t want you to give up on something you want to do because of money. I know that’s a completely privileged thing to say, but if I’m going to use my privilege for anyone, I want to use it for you.”

“Stop talking,” Niamh said, sitting up and throwing the pillow to the floor of their bedroom, “and ask me.”

“Don’t I have to talk to ask a question, counselor?” Niall pointed out.

“I’m gonna slap you,” Niamh replied.

“Niamh Crannagh, will you marry me?”

“Yes. Mostly for the loan forgiveness,” she said before kissing him. “I only want you for your money.”

“I’ll take it,” Niall agreed as he kissed her back. Eventually he’d clasp the traditional Bakuran engagement gift around her neck. There’d be time enough for that. They were going to enjoy this moment fully. Campaigns and jobs could wait for a few hours.

 

Nice. I'm sure Niamh will love him for a lot more than just money.

I'm proud of myself for recognizing the chain for exactly what it was (engagement gift) the moment it was mentioned, even though it's been a long while since we've seen that here.

 

I am duly impressed!

 

@AzureAngel2 @jcgoble3 @Sinrebirth @Vehn

Hyparamis, Hapes Consortium

“Good trip, dear?” Leodan Morningstar asked after his wife set her bag down in the foyer of their sleek, modern home. It was everything that a luxurious Hapan dwelling should be. His wife had seen to it personally, providing exacting direction during its construction and decoration.

Darriah said nothing in reply, her focus on the walk-in wine storage adjacent to their dining room.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Leodan said, completely unsurprised. “Well, that’s Lucien for you.”

“You’d think he’d be grateful,” Darriah said as she selected a bottle and a long-stemmed glass. She handed the bottle to a droid for opening. “Instead, he took pleasure in being difficult. He was so…smug at thinking he finally had the upper hand.”

“You were the one who wanted something from him,” Leodan mentioned casually, even though he knew he shouldn’t. For his impertinence, he got a glare, only cut short by the pleasant pop of a cork coming loose. Darriah turned her attention to the droid, who was pouring the white liquid into the glass for its mistress. “What was it that you wanted from Lucien anyways? You didn’t mention it before you left.”

“I want him home. He’s been punished long enough,” Darriah state, swirling her wine under her nose. Inhaling its aroma helped release some of the tension in her neck.

“That’s sentimental of you…and you’re not the sentimental type.” Leodan set his datapad down and looked his wife in the eyes. “I accept there’s a lot you don’t tell me, but when it comes to our children I’d prefer you didn’t lie to me.”

Darriah tipped her wine glass so the barest amount reached her lips before responding. “I was being honest. I want Lucien around.”

“For what purpose?” Leodan pressed.

“To be himself.”

Leodan pondered this. He knew when Darriah was leaving a trail to be pursued. “So who is Lucien…” The words came slowly. “It’s been years since we’ve seen him. He’ll have changed in some ways…but maybe it’s not important who he is, but who beings remember him to be.”

Darriah took a seat across from her husband. “Go on.”

“And the last thing that anyone remembers is that you kicked Lucien out for the attempted hostile takeover.” Leodan leaned forward, propping his arms on his knees as he thought it through. “But what good does it do to have everyone thinking that he’s back and making another move against you?”

“Why would he try to depose me again when I’m the one inviting him back?” Darriah asked serenely, guiding her husband.

“He wouldn’t.” Leodan’s brow knit with thought. “So if you’ve reconciled and he’s agreed he won’t challenge you for CDS—at least in the public eye—then what else would he be back in the Consortium for? Especially given how acrimonious his exile was. It would have to be something big for him to put aside his differences with you—or so everyone would think.” Leodan looked up at his wife.

“No.”

“Yes,” Darriah said.

“You want him to lead a coup against the House of Trieste?” Leodan was stunned.

“Of course I don’t. He’d be doomed to fail,” Darriah said without concern.

“Then I think I’ve reached the limit of my ability to follow you,” her husband said, sitting back, inviting her to take it the rest of the way.

“You were almost there. If everyone—especially the chume’doro —is watching Lucien, thinking that he might be attempting to make a move against the Queen Mother, then no one will be paying attention to what anyone else is doing,” Darriah elaborated.

“So you’d use our son as a distraction at best, and a patsy at worst?” Leodan asked, incredulous.

“We would make the real move long before it came to that.”

“The chume’doro isn’t dumb. They wouldn’t just take Lucien spouting off as proof he’s leading a coup. And if they’re looking at him, they’d certainly be looking at the rest of us, especially you.”

“Not if I’m the one who alerts the Queen Mother to this grave risk to her rule,” Darriah said with feigned gravity. “‘I’m so sorry, I had no idea he’d do anything like this. I thought he’d changed. Even though he’s my son, I had to bring this to you. I swore loyalty to you as your minister,’ that sort of thing. It will give me enough space and distance to discreetly coordinate with other interested parties. And it’ll work out for Lucien in the end. He’ll be a prince.”

“It’s a risky strategy,” Leodan warned, “even if Lucien agrees to it.”

“When it comes to the crown, everything is risky. But, as for Lucien, it’s immaterial if he agrees. I just need him here, where he can attract suspicion. If he’s on Nar Shaddaa, where no one can see him, he’s useless.”

“To you.”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Darriah said, standing with her wine, walking away.

“Yes, of course dear,” Leodan murmured as he picked up his datapad again. He’d been married long enough to know when a conversation was over.

 

Here comes the coup. Can Sierra survive? Stay tuned!