Beyond - Legends Annals of the Noble House of Trieste: Volume 11 (AU, OC)

This is like a vote, right?

 

AzureAngel2 DarthUncle jcgoble3 Vehn I wouldn't say it's like a vote...more like a benevolent...ish dictatorship. But, as CPL_Macja has just shown, I can be influenced.

Prytis, Bakura

The forests of Prytis were home to some of the largest trees on Bakura. Falene had purchased a small home in the forests that she loved with her earnings as a limmie player. Accordingly, she owned this retreat free and clear of the Noble House holdings. It was not near the family home of Kilmainham Brook, a place that she had spent little time in during her decade as Taoiseach. Her bungalow felt more welcoming than the great house ever had.

The trees here weren’t as old growth as those on Endor, but they were still impressive. It was thanks to the elite of days gone by that these forests had been preserved. Prytis had been a favorite retreat for wealthy Bakurans throughout history and they had kept these forests standing in their natural glory. She was grateful for their stewardship of such natural beauty and was equally dedicated to preserving it for the generations to come after her. Then again, it was easier for Bakurans. When you could live over 150 years, you understood the long view of causes and effects better.

Today she shared the sylvan quiet with her eldest cousin, Vesper Lynd, her former competitor on the limmie pitch. The two had always been close thanks to their shared profession and their similarity in age. They walked among the great trees, the life of the forest teeming around them.

“I don’t understand how you could have done this, Fae,” Vesper said. “I get not wanting to be Taoiseach anymore, but Declan? I understand that he’s your brother, but that doesn’t mean that I would have chosen Ginny or Cillian to be Taoiseach. There’s a reason why your mother picked you.”

“I know,” Falene agreed, “but I don’t think Mom was right. Declan is the right being to lead the family now. And it’s not like I had many choices. You’re right: Cillian and Ginny aren’t Taoiseach material. Neither are Elfie, Quentin, Alec, Jane Serena, or May. Sierra is now more part of Hapes than she is Bakura. Eleanor and Austin could handle it, buy they’re more Vehns than Triestes. Enoch shows promise, but he’s too young. I wouldn’t trust it to Antrose or Trixie, though I think they could each handle it.”

“Yet you trusted it to Declan instead of to me,” Vesper said. She was the only cousin Falene hadn’t named in her litany of the tenth generation, the Captains of Bakura as they were called. She had a point.

“I thought hard about it. Very hard,” Falene said, turning her face towards Vesper. “But Ves, no one can understand what a burden this is until it’s on their shoulders. This isn’t just owning the Miners. This is managing billions in assets.”

“Ronan does that. I could have handled it.”

“Ronan manages the transactions. He doesn’t make the decisions. I tried to throw as much of it on him as I could, but it still overwhelmed me. The Noble House has to be led by someone with organizational talent. It’s a wonder that it didn’t collapse on my watch. I kept kicking the can down the road. If the economy had tanked in the last decade, I wouldn’t have known what to do. We could have lost a lot. I wasn’t a good Taoiseach.”

“No, you were a different Taoiseach,” Vesper corrected. “That’s why you’re Dorian’s godmother. I trust you with my son’s life. It’s why I insisted with Nicholas that Dorian be a Lynd, so he would be part of the Noble House, not the House of Arden. Do you know how hard it’s been to face the Ardens with that bantha in the room? It does not make for fun Yuletides, let me tell you.”

Falene actually laughed at that. “No, Grandma Arden probably didn’t appreciate that.”

“I’ve begun to think that I should have adopted like you,” Vesper said mischievously. “But the difference here is very simple, Fae. I trust you. I don’t trust Declan. What’s going to happen to Dorian in a House run by Declan?”

The former Taoiseach said nothing for a few steps. “I understand. But there’s something…. Maybe it’s just from growing up with him. Maybe it’s the Force. I don’t know. All I know is that I’ve got this feeling, deep down, that Declan’s going to do something good for the Noble House. He’s always wanted to be like Mom. He wants to make Bakura a better place, for Shenandoah and Niall, for Dorian, for everyone. I think not being Taoiseach was holding him back from doing it. His life was about this thing he didn’t have, that he always wanted, that he expected. Now he’s free from it.

“It’s been my experience that when you get what you always wanted, you’re just as hollow or satisfied as you were before,” Vesper philosophized. “I’m worried what he’ll do to get his Bakura. What he’ll do to this family. When you were Taoiseach, I knew everything would be okay. Now....”

“You know, this doesn’t sound like a woman who’s won a Galactic Cup of Limmie.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just...I had to say these things to you. It hurt, Fae. The worst part is that nobody else understands. Dad ignored Noble House business. Ginny and Cillian knew it would never be their lot. Mom always played second mandoviol to your mom, so she didn’t even think that her children could be Taoiseach. And Nicholas? In the old Houses like the Ardens, they’re not the same as us. Being Taoiseach is more a sign of respect from your family than it is anything else to them.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Falene corrected. “We all have to let these things out. What I mean is I’m listening to a Vesper who thinks she’s powerless here.”

“Fae, it’s not like we can change who’s Taoiseach now,” Vesper said. “What’s done is done.”

“But the future is not Declan’s alone,” Falene insisted. “The Noble House is more than the Taoiseach. It’s all of us. It’s always been that. I know you’ve had a complicated history with the family after the Miners and the Monarchs, but I know you want to be a part of this family. You said you wanted Dorian to be a Lynd. Good. This family needs all of us. I think it’s time you took a more active role in the Noble House.”

“You really think Declan’s going to allow anyone to take a piece of the Noble House from him after he’s waited so long to get his hands on it?”

“Declan is nothing if not smart.”

“Too smart,” Vesper editorialized.

“Yeah, too smart to look at the most capable person in this family and not want to take advantage of everything she has to offer,” Falene finished.

“I will not be party to Declan’s plots,” Vesper protested.

“I’m not saying you should be. What I’m saying is that if you’re concerned about what’s happening to the family, get on the inside. That’s where you can make a difference and secure Dorian’s future.”

Vesper nodded as she worked through this in her mind. “The loyal opposition.”

“That’s a fancy turn of phrase, but I like it.” Falene smiled. “That sounds more like the being who I couldn’t beat in the playoffs.”

“Oh for Force sake,” Vesper groaned. “You’re still mad about that two Cups later?”

“Just because it’s you,” Falene ribbed.

They were silent for a few seconds as they walked.

“Anything else you’re mad at me about, other than not picking you as Taoiseach?” Falene asked.

“Yeah,” Vesper admitted. “What am I going to tell Dorian when he asks why you haven’t come by? You know he loves seeing you. It’s going to be real hard to explain what’s so great about Wild Space that you’d leave him behind to go look at some stupid new stars.”

“Tell him that I’m discovering a new galaxy for him,” Falene said, “and tell him that my kids are on Bakura and there’s nothing known or unknown that could keep me from finding my way home to him and them.”

“Good, because if you don’t come back for the family game every year I’m going to get sick and tired of pounding the other team into the ground year after year,” Vesper said crossly.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t miss the family game for all the stars in the universe,” Falene said, squeezing Vesper’s hand. “Promise.”

 

WOW... just wow. And you're right. It is about time that Vesper takes more of an interest in Noble House business.

Sent from the edge of a galaxy far, far away via my comlink

 

Your family life descriptions and the political shenanigans are always great to read. But today, I want to give you a compliment about your landscape descriptions.

I could really imagine walking the forests of Prytis after reading your story.

 

AzureAngel2 DarthUncle jcgoble3 Vehn and I'll throw in Bardan_Jusik since he loves all things Mandalorian

Salis D’aar, Bakura

Declan put down his glass. The clink reverberated throughout the study like the Death Star exploding. That’s how quiet it was in the room.

“You ask a great deal,” Declan stated.

“I ask only for what must be done,” Sierra riposted.

The Taoiseach considered what the chume’da had requested of the Noble House. He narrowed his eyes, looking straight into the light brown eyes of his cousin, as if it helped him make his decision. Maybe it did.

“I will do you this service,” Declan said, leaning forward. “In return, you will do something for us.”

“Of course,” Sierra agreed.

---

Later that night, when Sierra had withdrawn to the sixth floor where her bodyguards and retainers had been installed, Ayn rejoined her husband in the study.

“What did the princess want?” Ayn asked with an impish smirk.

“Careful dear,” Declan warned her with a more genuine smile. “You shouldn’t be so quick to jest. Wasn’t your grandmother a princess on Naboo?”

“An elected one, as is their way,” Ayn reminded him.

“Sierra has a couple of problems that need solving. One is easy. The other...more difficult.”

“How difficult?”

“This difficult.” Declan brought to life an image on the holoprojector. A Mandalorian in blue and yellow armor appeared. “This is a bounty hunter who’s done work for my mother and Falene. Haylee Kelt.”

“She looks familiar,” Ayn said.

“Yes, she’s something of a public figure. She was born on Bakura to Mandalorian parents. She’s at most of the Coalition Memorial Games, sometimes does the anthems,” Declan reminded her. “We’re going to need her for this.”

“And what’s this?”

“Nothing for you to be concerned about,” Declan said as he pulled his wife down onto the couch with him. She settled against him with a warm and comfortable fit. “In fact, you don’t need to worry about a thing.”

“Let me guess: we’ve got 99 problems, but the chume’da ain’t one of them?” Ayn asked with one mockingly raised eyebrow, turning her head over her shoulder to look at her husband.

Declan just laughed and kissed his wife.

---

One week later
Kilmainham Brook

Declan wondered if this was the first time a Mandalorian helmet had sat on the Taoiseach’s desk of the family estate. At least this one was in Bakuran’s planetary colors of blue and gold. His eye lingered on it more than the russet-haired woman who wore the rest of the armor. In almost any other outfit, Haylee Kelt would have fit in at a Salis D’aar fundraiser. Instead, she embodied menace and danger in her beskar’gam.

“We’re a long way from Telaan Valley, taoiseach,” Kelt observed. “I didn’t think a Governor had that kind of time to spare.”

“The business we have to do is best done in a private residence, one not owned by taxpayers,” Declan said. “I understand you’ve done retrieval work for my mother and sister.”

Kelt barked out a laugh. “Retrieval? That was part of it. There were some side benefits too.” She smiled. Declan wondered what those side benefits had been...and if the flamethrower on Kelt’s wrist had anything to do with it. “It was good work. What does the Noble House need this time?”

Declan took a small packet out of a desk drawer and slid it across the desk so it sat next to the buy’ce. “That delivered,” he stated.

“Hire a courier service,” Kelt replied flatly. “Last time I did work for the Noble House it was restoring Bakura’s history and delivering justice, not playing delivery being.”

“This needs to go off the beaten path,” Declan said.

“Where?”

“Kamino.”

“You’re lucky I don’t shoot you right now for suggesting I go back to that waterlogged cesspool after what they did to my people,” Kelt warned him, her voice dropping an octave. Declan was surprised she didn’t spit on the carpet of the office.

“I was told you were a professional,” Declan responded.

“I have morals, unlike them.”

Declan bent behind the desk. When he straightened, he placed two cases on the table. “One is for you and one is for the Kaminoans. Payment for both your services, in advance,” he said. “The second delivery will be more complicated.”

Haylee’s eyes narrowed. “Second delivery?”

“Do you own an evening gown, Ms. Kelt?” Declan asked with a smile.

 

Why do they need Haylee Kelt to resolve the chume'da's issues? I can't wait to find out...

 

I'm more interested why they need the Kaminoans?!?!?

I doubt it is to buy some sabre-darts...

Sent from the edge of a galaxy far, far away via my comlink

 

AzureAngel2 CPL_Macja (who I gather should be added to the TAGs now, hooray!) DarthUncle jcgoble3 Vehn

Il Avali, Druckenwell

Corrie Ypres finished listening to her unexpected dinner guest’s tale. It was not often that she or Quentin intruded on a dinner at home. Corrie spent enough dinners over business that they zealously guarded their time together. When Quentin said there was someone she should meet, she hadn’t even hesitated.

The dishes of their meal had been cleared by droids long ago. Corrie had barely noticed their work, let alone the sun setting over the ocean in the distance. The view was not actually that remarkable given how much of Druckenwell was on the water. Its land masses were mostly large islands. What was more distinctive was the space around her home. Most of the Druckenwell’s available land was developed. The fact that Corrie and Quentin lived in a two story residence with enough private land around it to provide some privacy marked them as part of the very wealthiest class of citizen on Druckenwell.

“Mr. Quibonz, thank you for bringing this to my attention,” Corrie said earnestly. “I will take this straight to my father. I promise you, I will see to it that the Federation does no business with the Corporate Sector. I happen to know for a fact that the Department of Foreign Affairs is vetting trade partners for the Federation. I will ensure Director Vehn is aware of this. In fact, I’m going to make sure this makes it to all of the media outlets immediately. I’m going to get HNN on this and I’ll call the Roon Report and…”

As Corrie continued, Quentin put a hand out towards his wife for the benefit of Elgar Quibonz. He had explained before dinner that his wife sometimes got verbally carried away and this was one instance of that.

“...and you know what? I’m going to get this on Limmie Tonight. I’ll make sure of it. I bet they’re using these contract slaves at Bonadan Barons games. They’ll totally take a story like this.” Corrie was now out of her chair and pacing as she planned. “The Barons will get blacklisted over this until this horrid institution is eradicated. I’ll make sure they never play the Marksmen, that’s for sure. Oh! And--”

“Dear,” Quentin interjected.

“Hmmm...yes honey?” she asked, halting her outpouring of words and her walk. It was almost like she’d forgotten that there were other beings in the room.

Quentin ceded the floor to their guest with a motion of his hand. “Ms. Ypres, I am flattered you have taken to the cause so passionately. You are every bit the humanitarian I heard you were. If everyone who heard about the cause decided to be so engaged, then there would be no slavery in the CSA today,” Elgar said. “However, I have a specific favor to ask of you.”

“Anything,” Corrie said, resuming her seat and giving the Quarren her full attention. “Absolutely anything. Name it.”

“That you actually do nothing of the sort,” Elgar stated.

“Okay. Got it.” Corrie stopped as she processed Quibonz’s words. “Wait, what?” she said quickly with confusion.

“There is another way that Mr. Quibonz proposes we can be of service to the antislavery cause,” Quentin elaborated.

“We actually want you to do business with the Corporate Sector,” Elgar said.

Corrie blinked several times. “Okay, you’re going to need to explain that one.”

“Though there are political efforts to pressure the CSA into outlawing this contract slavery, they have proven ineffective,” Elgar stated. “I am part of the cause that seeks to do what we can now rather than focus solely on total legal abolition. We would end what suffering we can as soon as we can. To that end, we have fostered a network of sympathizers within the CSA. They are free beings who disagree with the Direx Board’s policies. They have agreed to shelter workers who have run away from their contracts.

“This is a dangerous thing to do. There is an entire branch of the Espos devoted to hunting down runaway workers. The punishment for those caught is sometimes worse than death. Those who harbor runaways are imprisoned and their assets seized. It is one of the worst crimes in the Sector.

“Our network has only one problem,” Elgar said. “The CSA controls the spacelanes in and out of the Sector and inspects ships at their leisure. All our efforts grind to a halt at this bottleneck. We cannot reliably get beings out of the Sector.

“However, if the CSA did business with a large, interstellar corporation, they wouldn’t want to upset their relationship by delaying shipments through security checks. A corporation like the Ypres Initiative could move anything it wanted in and out of the Sector.”

“And that is why Mr. Quibonz came to see us,” Quentin finished. “To see if you’d be willing to help.”

“You could do legitimate business with Corporate Sector companies while still leaving space in your ships for those contract slaves who have the audacity to escape to freedom. You would save lives, Ms. Ypres,” Elgar added.

Corrie said nothing for a few moments. “And we would profit from this contract slavery in the process.”

“Yes, but you would do greater good in the process” the Quarren admitted.

“There would be danger to the Initiative should the galaxy take up the antislavery cause in earnest. The public’s perception of us would be as another heartless corporation.”

“It is a risk. However, the CSA takes great care to hide this underside of its business from prospective business partners. On any corporate tour of the Sector, you would never know of any of this.”

“This is a lot to think about. You’ll forgive me if I can’t give you an answer right now?”

“Of course,” Quibonz said. “I have taken up too much of your time as it is.” He stood and Corrie and Quentin followed suit. “I will be on Druckenwell for a few days more. Mr. Eldred has a way to reach me. No matter what your decision, I thank you for your time. You are the first being to hear me who could make a difference. That alone is something.”

Corrie clasped hands with the Quarren. “I wish you well, Mr. Quibonz.” Quentin did the same and a droid ushered Elgar out to catch an air taxi back to his hotel.

After they heard the front door slide shut, Quentin said, “Well, it’s--”

Corrie cut him off with a hand. It was sudden and unexpected. The Bakuran’s words died in his mouth. Her palm stood between them for a good ten seconds of silence and the look the Druckenwellian gave him was cold.

“All right,” Corrie finally said. “He’s probably too far away to hear now.”

“Hear what?”

“Hear me yell at you for what you just did!” Corrie shouted. “What were you thinking? You brought someone who wants to use my father’s company for his own crusade? Do you know what would happen if anyone found out we even had this meeting? My father would probably have to resign as President of the Federation! This is meddling in the affairs of a sovereign government! If the CSA ever heard about it we’d have warrants on our heads, probably even bounties!”

“Corrie, what’s going on?” Quentin demanded. “You ran supplies through a war zone to innocents! I thought you’d sympathize with him! This is slavery!”

“I conducted missions of mercy under a neutral relief flag! Everyone knew who I was and what I was doing! I didn’t smuggle beings out in somebody else’s ships!”

“Those ships are yours as much as they are your father’s! And how is this what we’re talking about right now and not the millions of beings in bondage, in slavery?” Quentin turned away in frustration. “This is about credits, not sentient beings.”

“I care about what he just described. It’s awful,” Corrie stressed. “But I have a responsibility to my father, to our shareholders, to the Federation. I am not the same being who rode freighters into war zones. I have responsibilities now. We have a life here. We could lose it all by helping this cause like this. I’ll raise public awareness. I’ll get every major government in the galaxy to stop doing business with the CSA. But I won’t risk my family’s legacy.”

Quentin bit his lip. “It’s funny. You’re right. You’re not the same being who was an inspiration to the galaxy. When you came back to Druckenwell, you became someone else. No wonder I’ve been looking for the being I fell in love with all this time.”

He walked out of the house, ignoring Corrie’s calls to wait. When she heard the door slide shut behind him, Corrie sighed with frustration. She passed through the doors onto the lawn overlooking the sea. The sun was beginning its final descent below the horizon, illuminating the sky in brilliant colors--hues she knew were thanks to pollution in the atmosphere.

Corrie placed her hands on the railing that separated her from tumbling down the cliffs and watched as the final stages of the sunset unfolded, reflecting in the clouds in pink, purple, and tangerine splendor. She didn’t understand why Quentin didn’t get this. She would never ask him to risk the Noble House’s resources on something that could risk everything. Was what the CSA doing wrong? Absolutely. But she had responsibilities to her family, to the Initiative, to the Federation. She couldn’t ignore those. Quentin should understand. They’d been so much together. Corrie rubbed the engagement ring on her hand with her thumb. Wasn’t that what this commitment meant?

Her head fell and left the beautiful vista behind as she exhaled. “Damn the Corporate Sector. Damn them.”

 

Sorry that I am online so seldom these days. The new job is stressful & I constantly lack energy at home. Plus answering/ commenting via the small screen of my mobile is painful

But to read on in your fanfic is always a great pleasure. Now you have a female bounty hunter in it, Naboo nobility and folk from the Hapan Consilium. Oh and "Cloners". Can´t wait to see what plot you are brewing together like a good soup.

 

I know you're out there, even if you don't comment. This should be fun, not stressful! I know you'll see it when you see it.

 

AzureAngel2 CPL_Macja DarthUncle jcgoble3 Vehn

Golden Prairie, Bakura

“Well, well, well,” Declan said standing from his desk in the governor’s office. “When they asked to make room in my schedule for an unexpected visitor, I thought for sure it would be the Chair of the Board of Supervisors snaking in here to protest once again that she can’t pass the budget and I’d have to tell her again that she really means ‘won’t.’ This, however, is much more pleasant.” He finished by giving his cousin Vesper a light kiss on the cheek appropriate to a distant family.

Vesper submitted to the greeting, but without warmth. “From what I hear, it’s only a matter of time before your legislative coalition forces her to either resign from the Chair or pass a budget based on your proposals.”

“Governing is much easier when one uses compromise to find common ground,” Declan said, motioning for Vesper to sit on one of the nerfhide couches. “Something to drink?”

“Tea, please,” Vesper said. “And compromise? Coming from the former Senator who stonewalled a Prime Minister? Talk about surprises, Dek.”

Declan removed a kettle being kept warm on a side table and poured some of the steaming contents into two porcelain cups. “If you’re here to talk political strategy, that will make another welcome surprise. I don’t suppose you’re running for office yourself? Ayn could recommend some districts in Cape Suzette. That’s her base, you know. I’d think you could easily carry a Supervisor seat.”

“No. Thank you,” Vesper said, the first sentence in response to the idea of a candidacy and the second sentence acknowledging the saucer and teacup from Declan, who took a seat across from her on the other couch. “However, you’re not half wrong. I am here to talk about the future.”

“What can I do for you?” Declan asked. “Or rather, what can the Noble House?”

“You becoming Taoiseach got me thinking about my relationship to the Noble House and that of my family,” Vesper said. “I admit I have not been very engaged with Noble House as an adult. Now I find myself thinking of where my family and I are headed. It’s here on Bakura and it’s with the Noble House.”

“And what do you propose?” Declan asked. He was seemed intrigued.

“That is precisely it. I don’t. This isn’t a case of what you can do for me, but rather what I can do for you,” Vesper replied. “You are the Taoiseach.”

Declan set his teacup and saucer down on the low table between them and let his gaze linger on them. “Of all the gin joints in the galaxy…” he murmured. Looking up, Declan held Vesper’s eyes. Neither blinked or looked away. “I would never refuse your talents, Vesper. They are not something to be deployed lightly. In fact…” Delcan put one finger up, a thought coming to him. “...I know just what is worthy of them at the moment.”

Declan stood and grabbed his datapad from his desk. With a couple swipes he turned on the holoprojector, showing a map of the galaxy. Vesper stood and the pair stood in midst of the slowly rotating spiral of stars.

“A few years ago I recommended to Uncle Ronan that Falene look into making a major investment in next generation holobuoys. The Noble House did, making a significant capital investment, and is now a major stakeholder in the West Rim Holo Corporation.” Declan zoomed the projection so it showed a section of the galaxy that included Bakura. A network of dots connected themselves with bright lines, the space in between filling in with color to demonstrate the scope of the network. “It extends from here into the Expansion Region out to the Rimma Trade Route.”

“And we own part of this?” Vesper asked as she examined the swath of the galaxy. “Not the Republic?”

“Coruscant had no appetite for such a large infrastructure project when things began. They let the private sector build it. In exchange, we charge providers to use it. They’ve increasingly moved over from the Republic-owned system to our higher bandwidth and speed,” Declan said. “Now that it’s becoming the standard the Republic wants to make it a public good and regulate it, ensure free access to all parties.

“Your mother currently has the Noble House board seat on the Corporation. With her other board commitments and the Republican interest I foresee, I’ve been considering a change to make sure someone can give their full attention to the Corporation,” Declan said.

“If the Republic wants to nationalize the Corporation, then you’re talking about a legal fight to prevent eminent domain.”

“Not quite. The Republic will own this next gen holo network, one way or another. It would be foolish to fight the tide on this,” Declan said. “We’re going to beat them to the punch. I need someone to negotiate the sale and make a hell of a lot of credits on it. I believe you can make that happen.” Declan locked eyes again with Vesper. “If you want to make an impact on our family, this is it. This is the most important business venture we have right now. It may even be the biggest we’ve ever had. Our share of the sale price could be one of the largest capital infusions into the Noble House in its history. It could secure our financial future for a generation.”

“And you trust me with it?” Vesper asked.

“As I heard it, you got Quinn Cundertol to offer you Glencross money once in contract negotiations,” Declan said. “Anyone who can get the Smug Dragon to do that is someone I want on my team.”

“So, if I accept, what happens after the sale?”

Declan smiled. “We’re going to be very rich.”

“And my involvement with the Noble House?”

“We’ll decide on it then. One way or another, the landscape will be vastly different than what we see today. What do you say?” He extended his hand.

“I say you have a deal,” Vesper said, clasping the offered hand and sealing their arrangement.

“Excellent,” Declan said. “Now, there is one more thing you can do.”

“Running a major infrastructure sale isn’t enough?” Vesper asked with a smirk.

“I’d like you to be part of something I’m starting. Or rather, restarting, in a way.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you know what they call us? Our generation of Triestes?”

Vesper gave a small, short laugh. “Yeah, ‘the Captains of Bakura.’ No idea where they got that. I mean, I was the Captain of Rydonni Prime so it wasn’t me.”

Declan grinned in appreciation of the joke. “I think it’s time we gathered the Council of Captains.”

 

Well, I was away for a bit, missed some posts by the look of it. I'll start with the 1st one of the bunch

I like that thought

This sounds intriguing, and as usual, quite eloquently put. I too don't quite fully understand why Falene did what she did, but I hope she's right Declan is going to come good.

edit:
And your other updates are very interesting too; Nice dilemma you set up there between Corrie and Quinten - I sort of see her point, but I still think she's wrong, and lacking creativity here, why not have Quinten set up a corporation that trades via ''her" ships, supposedly bc. the noble house doesn't want to be directly involved with trade w. the CSA, where they rent space on those ships, and hide the escapees, and she can claim innocence.

 

Some great developments but is it a bad thing that I hear Frank Underwood's voice during this section? Maybe it is....

 

I've never thought of Declan as having a light drawl.

 

Good point!

 

AzureAngel2 CPL_Macja DarthUncle jcgoble3 Vehn

Il Avali, Druckenwell

Corrie heard the front door slide open. The house had been quiet for the last week. She and Quentin hadn’t crossed paths much. He’d been keeping long hours at the office in addition to the trips to other parts of Druckenwell he’d suddenly needed to take. It didn’t take a vice president of a major interstellar corporation to read the subtext of what was going on. Corrie gave Quentin the space he appeared to want. Her father had once said that you never went to bed angry in a marriage, but she also learned that there were some times you shouldn’t pick a fight.

“Hi,” Quentin called from the foyer. She heard him putting some of his things down.

“Quentin, please come in here when you have a moment,” Corrie replied from the kitchen.

“Is it important? I have a report for the Department of the Interior on the progress of our carbon scrubbing project,” Quentin said.

“Yes. It is important.” Sometimes it was the time to pick a fight.

The even tone of Corrie’s voice (and how she used only four words where she could have used forty) got Quentin’s attention. He headed for the bright, white kitchen with its gleaming appliances, kept at near showroom conditions by the droids who maintained the house. Sitting on the island in the middle of the kitchen were two tumblers with liquor in them. Corrie pushed one wordlessly to Quentin.

“Is this a condemned man’s last drink or the ‘we’re pregnant’ kind of drink?” Quentin asked. “Wait, it wouldn’t be the latter because then there’d only be one glass.”

“This is an ‘I’ve been thinking’ kind of drink,” Corrie said.

“I’m still not sure if this is a good or bad drink,” Quentin admitted as he picked one of the glasses up reluctantly.

“The last time we spoke, the last time we really spoke,” Corrie clarified, “it was about the Corporate Sector slavery thing. We both got a little heated.”

“Look, Corrie, you made your position very clear,” Quentin sighed. “I don’t think there’s anything worth--”

“Please Quentin,” Corrie insisted. “Please. Let me...okay?” She took a deep breath. “Look, you were right. I have been different since I started at the Initiative. I admit it. But it’s because I’m right too. This is my family business. It’s got our name on it. It’s as personal to us as the Miners are to your family. I can’t go risking everything for something that threatens our future.”

“Corrie, I heard you last time. I understand,” Quentin said. “Now, can we just please put it behind us?”

“I said I’ve been thinking,” Corrie continued. “And it has to do with the fact that I’m not the same being I was in college. I’m not making the galaxy a better place. I came back here and I started making blasters and now I’m making starships. It’s got us this.” She waved to the house around them. “And that!” She swept her hand with the drink in it towards the windows and the ocean view shrouded in moonlight. “And I like this! I do! I’m sorry, but I do!” Quentin opened his mouth, but Corrie continued before he could stop her. “And I want this for us. For our life together. For...whatever family we have have after this.” She looked at her engagement ring. “Because I still want that. More than I want this house or the Initiative. Those things mean nothing without our family.

“And I want that family to stand for something.”

“Stand for what?” Quentin asked. That was the question underlying everything.

“That better galaxy I was trying to make when we knew each other at Atalanta,” Corrie said, “and that’s what I told Elgar Quibonz before he left for Dac.”

“So we’re going to do this? We’re going to help him get runaway contract slaves out of the Sector?”

“Not like he asked.” She shook her head. “I won’t endanger the Initiative, but I’m going to do everything short of that.”

“But how? He said he needs the Initiative’s imprimatur to get through the hyperlane inspections,” Quentin pointed out.

“I think that’s where we come in, mate.”

Quentin turned to find his cousins Swann and Cillian Lynd sitting in the dining room. They’d apparently been listening the whole time given that the bottle of rum between them was already half empty. Cillian gave a wave of greeting with his bionic arm.

“See, this happens to be our specialty,” Cillian continued with a smile.

 

As I read the post, I had a sneaking suspicion Swann and Cillian were going to pop up. Glad to see I was right! Love those two and can't wait to see them putting their smuggling skills to good use.

 

Yeah, Swann and Cillian, that's the way Corrie, well done.

 

Well, seems that my husband was quicker than I was in reacting to your updates. You really sucked him in with your story. That happens seldom!

Anyway, I love Swann.

 

Would you believe this was my plan all along?

Any particular reason why? I am genuinely curious!

 

AzureAngel2 CPL_Macja DarthUncle jcgoble3 Vehn and Bardan_Jusik because he deserves it.



Salis D’aar, Bakura

One of the advantages of having seven floors in one’s private residence was there was plenty of space to entertain. Today, Declan had ordered the larger of the two dining rooms on their penthouse seventh floor readied for guests. Its six seat oval table was the perfect size for the group he had called together today.

It was the first time in several years that their four guests had visited the Plaza. Under Fionn the residence had been a center of the Noble House’s activity, hosting receptions and parties for politicians, executives, artists, diplomats, and athletes. On Truce Day and at Yuletide parties one could rub shoulders with senators, admirals, and chief executives. Kerry had hosted select private events at the Plaza, but most of her entertaining had been done at official residences befitting her stations as Prime Minister and Supreme Chancellor.

The Plaza became dormant during Falene’s tenure as Taoiseach. She spent plenty of time in Salis D’aar, but in an apartment bought with her limmie earnings. Falene had no interest in swanky affairs, preferring to spend her free time in Prytis. The fanciest she got was going to the horse races at Union Westcott and then only because of her interest in the sport, not the see-and-be-seen parading that Westcott’s races had become for many.

Declan had decided that the Plaza would once again be a great hub of social activity. It was one of the many things that would be different under the eleventh Taoiseach of the Noble House.

When Vesper Lynd arrived, Declan and Ayn were already entertaining two of her cousins. The first was First Lieutenant Enoch Trieste of the Bakuran Marines. He was the youngest of all the cousins at 26 years of age. A graduate of the Bakura Fleet Academy, Enoch was the third member of the tenth generation to serve in the Marines, following Cillian Lynd and Rickard Harlow, and was the only one still in the service. He was out of uniform today, dressed in business casual.

“Ves, good to see you,” Enoch greeted her warmly with a firm handshake that spoke to his military training. “How’re Nick and Dorian?”

“They’re doing well, thanks. Where do they have you stationed these days?” Vesper asked.

“Evanworth up in Arcterra for altitude training,” Enoch said. “Never know what conditions we’ll have to fight in, especially if the Republic comes calling for our services.” The Republic generally didn’t allow planet- or system-level armed forces. However, they made exceptions for planets where the Republican Fleet determined were potential high risk. Thanks to its position on the edge of the galaxy and its history of Ssi-Ruu invasions, Bakura qualified. The Senate bill that granted the planet the right to raise and maintain the Defense Fleet officially labeled them as a militia, subject to orders from the Republican Fleet. This most commonly took the form of officer exchanges, which benefited the Defense Fleet by ensuring a crop of officers were in line with Republican standards of warfare.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Vesper said.

The other guest was May Trieste, sister to the former Jedi Austin Vehn and current Director of Foreign Affairs for the Roon Federation Eleanor Vehn. Though all three had been born Triestes, she alone had retained the surname. May had always been closer to the Noble House than to the Vehn dynasty, even though her homeworld was Roon, the base of the Vehns for decades. A talented medical doctor, May bore a four scars, all at different angles, on her face that dated to her youth. No one ever talked about how she got them.

“May, let me see it,” Vesper asked with a smile.

May held out her left hand to allow her cousin to examine the engagement ring inset with emeralds. “I know it’s not very traditional, but Sevan thought they were like the Lady Constance Mountains near Tesserone and he wanted it to remind me of home.” She had recently become affianced to Sevan Hull, a reporter for the Salis D’aar Times.

“You’ve always worn unconventional well,” Vesper said, “and this is no exception.”

May smiled, her scars shifting in the process. “I hope you and the family will make it to the wedding. We’ll be married on world.”

“Not on Roon?” Enoch asked with light surprise.

“This is our home,” May said, gently but firmly. “I grew up at Tesserone, but this is where my life is and where our life will be.”

“And we are glad of that,” Ayn said, gracefully integrating herself into the conversation. “Thank you all for coming, especially those of you from out of town.” The Minority Leader specifically looked to Enoch and Vesper on this point. “Naturally, it should be the one who is closest who arrives last.”

“And that would be…?” Vesper asked, letting the question hang to invite an answer.

The door slid open. “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I missed my monorail!” Elphaba Trieste apologized as she hurried into the dining room in a whirl.

Elfie, as everyone called her, worked for the Prytis Accords Foundation, set up by Falene to assist both Kurtzen and Sith descendants in integrating into Bakuran society. She had built the Foundation from an empty room into a bustling nonprofit that arranged cultural exchanges and job training, mediated disputes, and lobbied legislatures to appropriate funding. Not many beings on the cusp of their 30th birthday could say they’d accomplished that, let alone planned their own impending wedding. Of course, not many beings were the granddaughter of a Jedi Master who had stared down the Sith Lord of her age and walked away the victor (albeit with a limp that would linger for the rest of her days--which was still quite an accomplishment).

“And now we’re all here,” Declan proclaimed. “Please, sit. Thank you for coming.”

“Everyone?” Vesper asked as she took a seat. “I thought this was going to be a gathering of cousins.”

“Not all the cousins, just a select few. The Council of the Captains is to be an executive committee, if you will,” Declan explained. “As you can see, there’s broad representation across the family here.”

“So...someone remind me what we’re doing here?” Elfie asked as she reached for a pastry from a tray. “I can’t remember if your invitation said, mainly because the only thing I can remember about invitations is whether everyone’s name is spelled correctly on the ones Jax and I selected…”

“A little bit of history first,” Declan said. “When my mother was Taoiseach, she sometimes gathered her siblings to discuss matters of importance to the Noble House. She would present issues and take their counsel before decisions. I believe there is much to be gained from this approach.”

“But not everyone is here,” Vesper pursued. “Even if we just take one for each of Fionn’s seven children, the aunts and uncles, Quentin and Trixie aren’t here. Neither is Sierra.”

“I want a Bakuran view in these meetings. We are, and must always be, the first House of Bakura,” Declan stated. “Sierra has obligations that prevent her from taking that position. She is a member of the Noble House and will always be, but her voice will be heard elsewhere. I believe Quentin is coming to a similar place. Though I think he could be a valuable member of this council, I suspect his path is tied more to Druckenwell than Bakura. As for Trixie…”

“I think we can agree that this might be more productive and harmonious without her,” Enoch interjected with a grin.

“I believe Trixie will be a very important member of the Noble House,” Declan said. “That value lies outside of this group. For the moment, I think a tight circle is appropriate. The six of us.”

“All right,” May said. “So what’s on the agenda?”

“The Noble House is about to make one of our biggest financial transactions in its history,” Declan said. “I’ve asked Vesper to take the lead on it. Ves?”

Lynd nodded and activated the holoprojector at the center of the table through her datapad. “We hold a significant stake in the West Rim Holo Corporation…”

---

Kamino

Haylee Kelt was not happy about being here. If her buy’ce hadn’t been placed firmly on her head, her frown would have communicated this to the Kaminoan she was dealing with. However, she was not keeping her helmet on to be polite. The real reason is that she didn’t want a single hair or a flake of skin floating to the floor. No one was going to make a clone of her, that was for shabla sure.

The sterile, brightly lit, white environment wasn’t helping. Oh sure, the Kaminoans saw in the ultraviolet spectrum, supposedly making the space a work of art. To Kelt, it was yet another reason she didn’t trust them.

“Can we just hurry this up?” the Mandalorian asked, arms crossed against her chest. At her feet was one of the cases that Declan Trieste had given her. It was stacked full of credits. She had weighed it against its companion and estimated that they were the same mass and therefore had the same value. That meant she was about to hand the Kaminoans over a million credits if her deposit slip from her bank was to be believed.

“Please forgive us,” the Kaminoan said in her light, airy, unhurried voice. “Our numbered orders take additional time to retrieve.”

Kelt didn’t know what it was she was picking up, but she didn’t like it. The fact that Declan Trieste wasn’t putting his name on the order only confirmed her bad feeling. “Yeah, whatever,” Kelt muttered under her breath. “Get a better filing system, Shama Lama Ding Dong.”

“Hmmm?” the Kaminoan asked, looking up from her terminal.

“Nothing,” Kelt replied tersely. It was clear she has no interest in repeating herself.

A door slid open and a second Kaminoan came forward with a small white case, gliding forward. The way they moved was even creepy. “You will wish to inspect the contents?” the first Kaminoan asked.

The Mandalorian tilted her helmet towards the container on the counter in front of her. “Yeah, sure,” she said sarcastically. “I’ll just open the cloners’ mystery package and unleash a living Korriban on the galaxy. Thanks, I think I’ll pass.”

“I guarantee it will not harm you,” the Kaminoan insisted.

Kelt just hauled the case containing the payment onto the counter roughly and snatched the case in exchange. “Our business is concluded,” she stated. She turned to walk away, but whipped back around, putting a finger backed up by a flamethrower up in a sign of warning. “And if I ever see anyone who remotely looks like me wandering around the galaxy, I swear by Manda I will come back and personally burn this place to rubble. In fact, if any one of your wretched race ever cross my path again, I might just do the same anyways.”

With that, she stalked out of the lab and into the rain to get off this Force-forsaken world as quickly as possible. Back at the counter, the Kaminoans looked at each other.

“So that was a Mandalorian?” the first said to the second.

“Apparently. They seem like an awful lot of trouble to have cloned.”

“Thank goodness we don’t do that anymore.”

“Yes, thank goodness.”

And with that, they parted as if the whole thing had never happened.

 

Things are moving and shaking in the Noble House! And LOL at Haylee's interaction with the Kaminoans! Though I am slightly worried about what's in that package she received from them...

 

You've just reminded me I forgot to include the musical inspiration for one of her comments in that introduction, now included. Bardan_Jusik will like it doubly. However, I could have easily used this one too.

 

Liked doubly.

 

Nice!