Beyond - Legends Annals of the Noble House of Trieste: Volume 12 (AU, OC)

Well, a way out, without those that assisted her, or were planning on taking the Way, being punished for that, so quite a good deal, as deals go. But, somebody (obviously not her) will have to find someone clearly not within her sphere of influence to start The Path (tm) in the near future. nono, nothing like the Way, it will have to be something different, maybe political pressure, maybe a search/signal light pointing at the nasty...

 

Totally different!

 

The negotiation is strong with this one! I'm not sure I understand the full implications, but amnesty speaks for itself.

Staring at Prex's hand was an odd ending point. I wasn't sure if you just cut it off there or we were to read that she showed her disdain by not shaking his hand. So Corrie is free and the slaves have been freed? Where do we go from here?

 

Asking questions about what happened is precisely what I was going for.

 

The impression I got from the Prex was "I'll ignore your crimes if you stop committing them and pretend we don't enslave people, or else there will be hell to pay." I get the feeling that Corrie isn't sure if she's willing to agree to the "pretend we don't enslave people" part or not at the end.

 

@AzureAngel2 @brodiew @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

​

Dac

“Do they have one of those vibroaxe throwing ranges here?” Swann asked. She got up and started pacing the floor of the freighter. “I want to do something that feels violent, but in a way where I don’t hurt anyone.”

“We just have to wait,” Cillian reminded her.

“I don’t like waiting,” Swann said. “Not when Corrie’s still in the Sector. Has anyone tried a lightsaber throwing range?”

“There’s nothing we can do about that right now,” Quentin said, even though it pained him to admit it. However, they’d made their move and had to let it play out.

“I don’t like it either,” Elgar Qibonz said. The Quarren who was one of the main organizers of the post-Corporate Sector stages of The Way had been waiting for them upon arrival on Dac, knowing this would be the last group of refugees that would come through, perhaps forever. To say he had been distressed at Corrie’s absence would have been kind. “Are you sure this will work? I feel like the CSA can just sweep this under the rug if we backchannel.”

“My cousins may be many things and I may not completely trust them, but there are two things that they have demonstrated,” Quentin said. “The first is that they take their obligation as head of the family seriously. The second is that when they say they’re going to do something, they do it.”

“Including put one of us behind bars,” Swann reminded everyone, though it wasn’t like anyone in the Noble House had forgotten that Ayn and Declan had used the federal government to wage war on their cousin Antrose’s criminal empire.

“What’s everyone standing around for?”

Their heads turned in unison to discover Corrie standing in the doorway of the hangar bay where the freighter had landed.

“Corrie?” Quentin asked in disbelief. It seemed impossible that she was here: it had only been three hours since they’d landed. He rushed forward to embrace her. “How…”

“Commercial flight from Bonadan,” she explained simply.

---

Bonadan
Earlier

“Deal,” Corrie said, clasping Polarit’s hand.

“Then I think you and your husband should collect your things and I’ll have the Espo officers escort you to the spaceport so you can get on your way,” Polarit said. Unspoken was their understanding that Corrie would never darken the CSA’s door again.

That was one thing, and perhaps the only thing, that Corrie and Karl agreed on.

---

“I explained that you had already left due to urgent business on Druckenwell,” Corrie said, finishing her story. “They might not have believed it, but it wasn’t going to jeopardize our agreement. But that’s not important. You haven’t told me--did we get everyone out?”

“This way,” Elgar said, beckoning for Corrie and the others to join him.

He opened heavy flight doors, revealing an adjoining hangar. Inside were nearly 90 beings, many receiving food, clothes, and other supplies from the Dac-based aid workers of The Way. They had escaped with their lives and little more and now found themselves thrust into life in a new galaxy far removed from anything they had known, at least for a very long time. They turned towards the open doors, their voices falling silent. Even the aid workers said nothing. Having already met Swann, Cillian, and Quentin and heard about what had happened to precipitate their departure from Bonadan, they knew who the new figure in the group was--and what she had risked to get them out.

Corrie looked at them in return. She realized it was the first time she’d ever been in the same place with anyone who had escaped indentured servitude in the Corporate Sector. Though she’d known all this time that she was helping real beings, all of a sudden it hit her. As Corrie’s eyes wandered over their faces, she could say only one thing.

“We could have got more out.”

“There are 2,300 beings who escaped, who have futures, because of you and Quentin,” Qibonz said from her side. “2,300 beings who would have lived the rest of their lives as little better than slaves.”

“We could have gotten more,” Corrie repeated.

“You did so much,” the Quarren assured her.

“If...if I’d made more credits. I wasted so much money. Saved more,” Corrie said, her words beginning to trip over each other as her brain hurtled through the infinite possibilities of her life. “Invested more. Sold my Ypres shares. Taken out loans using my family’s name as credit.” She began to cry. “There were so many things I could have done, if only I’d thought of them then...before...and now I can’t…”

“Every one of these beings will live in freedom,” Qibonz said. “Their children will not be burdened with impossible debts. They have futures. What you have done will ripple through untold beings across centuries, millennia.”

“I could have done more.”

“No one did more than you,”

Corrie looked about the spaceport and found she was slowly wandering into the midst of these former workers. She looked back at Quentin and saw beyond him the freighter they’d come on.

“The ship. We could have sold the ship,” she said. “What do we need the ship for now? We could have gotten enough to get 15 more out on another transport. Ten for sure. Ten more.”

Her eyes dropped to her wrist. “This bracelet. Three beings. Three more beings.” She held her hand in front of her face. “This ring.” Her wedding band. “I could have gotten two beings for this. At least one.

“I could have gotten one more being. One more being...and I didn’t,” Corrie said as she collapsed in tears, Quentin barely holding her up as the enormity of it hit her.

A woman stepped forward and took Corrie’s hand as Quentin lowered her onto a crate. It was the only thing she could give the being who had given her freedom.

From the gateway joining the two hangar bays, Swann leaned against Cillian, her own eyes brimming with tears. He squeezed her shoulder and felt the same pull on his heart. Here was a woman who had given everything and still reproached herself for what she had left. Its tragic beauty was too much to bear.

 

"Tragic beauty" is an extremely apt way to describe this. I have no better words. Everyone here is safe and yet her heart weeps for the ones left behind. Excellent writing.

 

An experience that will change Corrie forever, I imagine. Enjoyed the Schindler's List reference....good job!

 

@AzureAngel2 @brodiew @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn Guess what? You forgot about something.

Salis D’aar, Bakura

“I assure you, Vice Prex, I am not a being to be trifled with,” Declan Trieste told his counterpart of the Corporate Sector Authority by way of holoconference. “I want my cousin released immediately.”

“And for the second time, we don’t have her,” Polarit said testily. “We put her on a shuttle earlier today for Dac, a destination of her chosing.”

“Her husband hasn’t seen her since she left their hotel room in the company of Espo officers. Now what conclusion am I supposed to draw from that?” Declan asked.

“You should check with Mr. Trieste-Ypres again,” Polarit said. “Now, forgive me, but I happen to be in charge of foreign affairs for a major multisystem government. Perhaps planetary bureaucrats like you have nothing better to do than annoy busy beings on the other side of the galaxy, but I actually have business to deal with. See you at the D12, Minister.” He cut the connection.

Declan’s face was red. Planetary bureaucrat. Name one other planet, a single planet, that even sat on the D12. It was insulting. And the CSA had the gall to tell him they didn’t have Corrie when Quentin had informed him less than an hour ago that he suspected she was in Espo custody? His mother was fond of throwing things (eminently breakable things, no less) in moments like these and he saw the appeal. But he thought better of it.

Instead, he stabbed the comm button on his desk. “Get me the Prime Minister. And then get me the head of our office on trade.”

---

“How long ago did Corrie get back?” Declan asked, furious for the second time that day.

“She landed on a commercial flight about three hours ago,” Cillian reported.

“Then this is two hours and 59 minutes later than I should have heard about it!” Declan spat. “Ayn and I were this close to publicly announcing that we thought Corrie was a prisoner of the Corporate Sector Authority! You can’t ask me to handle the situation and then not tell me when it’s changed! We could have wrecked years of diplomatic work because of this!”

“It’s been a rough afternoon,” Cillian said.

“And where are Corrie and Quentin anyways?”

“Like I said, a rough afternoon,” Cillian repeated, his voice growing rougher itself. “I told them I’d make the call. Let’s just be glad nobody had to launch the Defense Fleet, all right mate? Happy ending for everyone.”

Declan let his breath out of his nose in an angry huff. “Other than canceling two diplomatic receptions and probably spending the rest of the day apologizing to the Vice Prex for the accusations I hurled in our earlier call, yeah, everything’s great.”

“Then this is a perfect time to ask you a question that wasn’t apropos earlier,” Cillian said. “You didn’t seem very surprised about what Quentin told you about The Way. Now, you might be calm under pressure, but you’re not that calm, Dek.”

“That’s not a question,” Declan observed.

“Did you know about The Way?” There was no ambiguity about that question.

“Did I know that Quentin and Corrie were spending their personal fortune to perform illegal activities for years in another jurisdiction, employing you and Swann as part of their enterprise?” Declan asked. “That would imply I’m keeping tabs on everyone in the Noble House.”

“Yes, it would,” Cillian said with a straight face.

“Then we’re agreed,” Declan said.

“Oh, I don’t think we agree on much,” Cillian promised him.

“Yes, one of us thinks about the Noble House,” Declan said.

“And the other thinks about family. Big difference, mate.”

Declan ended the call and immediately hit his desk comm again. “Get me the Vice Prex of the Corporate Sector Authority again. Start off by apologizing.” He ended the intercom call. “Because I’m going to have to do a lot of it.”

For not the first or the last time, Declan reflected that the Noble House would be a lot easier to run if it wasn’t for all the people in it.

 

Yeah, this sentiment might be true, but it's exactly that which always makes me hope Declan and Ayn never forget the Noble House actually is exactly those people - easier to run without them, but utterly meaningless too. And similar of course with Bakura.

Nice to see the situation from a somewhat different perspective, I had to grin through reading it because you gave us the clue that Corrie was okay, which made it perhaps less tense, but more easy to read and enjoy.

 

@AzureAngel2 @brodiew @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

Salis D’aar, Bakura

​

Had it not been for the federal Marshal protection in front and behind, they would have been any two other teenagers jogging along the riverfront of the capital city. In Salis D’aar there was a pretty high degree of political literacy among the citizens, but plenty of people didn’t recognize Shenandoah and Niall Trieste even though they were part of the so-called First Family as the children of the Prime Minister. Niall was lanky and tall, more so than his father, with whom he shared dark hair. Shenandoah was shorter and had her grandmother’s copper locks, but despite their differences they jogged in step with each other.

The lack of recognition in public wasn’t due to an intentional low profile. They jointly led Engaged Young Bakurans, which was dedicated to nonpartisan vote turnout and promoting discussion and education on major issues of the day among new, young voters, a demographic that often had less of a voice in government. As 16-year-olds went, the twins were about as famous as one could be at that age without being an entertainer.

Even so, on a run through the government parks of the capital they were able to move without too much recognition. Not even the recent Truce Day festivities brought a spike in turned heads. There were plenty of children of diplomats who had Marshal protection, so that alone wasn’t enough to distinguish them. There was a reason patriotism hadn’t brought them to the fore: their parents had removed the family to Kilmainham Brook for the holiday, following the longstanding opinion that it would be unseemly for the Prime Minister to insert herself into national holiday celebrations.

Their run followed a prescribed route. This was for the convenience of the Marshals. While their detail hadn’t asked them to do this, Niall and Shenandoah knew that it made the agents’ lives easier when their detail could plan in advance. No one had asked them to take the Marshals’ needs into consideration, but they did it in recognition of the effort that went into their protection. It was the considerate thing to do.

Shenandoah and Niall had one request for this run, which was to stop at their great-grandfather’s memorial. The monument had been approved by the Senate during their grandmother’s tenure as Prime Minister and completed when she was Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. As public space went, it was neither giant nor was it a token. If it leaned one way, it was definitely towards the larger end of the spectrum with its rotunda, columns, and larger-than-life statue of the being who had devoted so much effort and time into convincing the galaxy and the Bakuran diaspora that the world was worth rebuilding. It got a fair amount of visitors in its riverbank location, but not as much as others, like the more massive Arden Monument or the Battle of Bakura Memorial. That made it a good place to stop in the middle of a run, especially on warm days when the cool marble structure provided relief.

Today was such a day. The twins paused, sweating and huffing, to take a breather on one of the benches lining the walls of the memorial’s interior where they could look at the statue of their ancestor and his quotes on each wall.

“I wonder,” Niall said as he looked at the man who had given him his middle name.

“Wonder what?” Shenandoah asked as she pointed one foot back towards her to stretch her leg out as she sat.

“What he’d think of us now,” Niall finished. He indicated the statue with his chin.

“Us us or the Noble House us?” Shenandoah clarified.

“The Noble House. He was born into a family like ours. Dozens of cousins in positions of power, positioned in institutions across the planet. And then they were all gone.” The Sith occupiers of Bakura had targeted all the leading families as they subjugated the population, including the Triestes. Only Fionn and his cousin Aine had survived, and then only by virtue of being off-world at the time. “I wonder if he would have liked what we’ve become. The same as we were, but with expanded reach. Hapes. Druckenwell. Roon. Grandma as Supreme Chancellor. A third straight Trieste in Marian Square.”

“You think he wouldn’t like it?”

Niall didn’t say anything. “I think he’d be glad Bakura’s more open-minded now, but I think he saw that coming. Those who came back in 220 were mostly the beings who’d left, who’d been exposed to a larger galaxy. They had a wider view of life, a more tolerant point of view. He fostered that in his children and now the Noble House is engaged with the galaxy. But I wonder if we aren’t just doing the same empire building. We’ve just stopped limiting ourselves to Bakura. Now we’re doing it on Roon, Hapes, Druckenwell, even Coruscant once upon a time.”

“Maybe,” Shenandoah allowed, “but it’s hard to ask a dead man what he thinks about current events.”

“Unless he’s a Force ghost.”

“He should definitely be a Force ghost.”

“He worked with the Jedi in his life. That should be part of the benefits.”

“But to your point,” Shenandoah said, turning the conversation back to its beginning, “has the Noble House lost its way?”

“I don’t know,” Niall admitted. “But I feel like there’s another way.”

“Maybe there is,” Shenandoah allowed. The twins didn’t seem to feel the need to go deeper than that and by mutual, if silent, agreement, left the matter at that. Not every conversation they had needed an immediate answer. Sometimes just beginning the question was enough for them.

They both gave one last look to the statue, hopped to their feet in unison, and resumed their jog. If you’d asked any of the tourists in the memorial, the majority would have said that they were running to something rather than running from something.

 

The Corrie scene was brilliantly written.

I just found it strange that my silly brain remembered a movie we all went to see on behalf of my grammar school. ALL the classes! Year 7 up to Year 13. The headmaster and his staff had hired an entire local movie theatre for that. (By the way young Stauffenberg attended that particular school a long time ago.)

So when I read the story, the Corrie I imagine in my head, turned into Liam Neason playing Oscar Schindler. But then the image was gone and I was back on the track, inside your gorgeous story telling!

 

Argh, we almost posted at the same time. Shock! And I thought I caught up. Ah well... your genius never sleeps!

Loved that part about Force ghosts and before I start telling you about "Huibuh" a famous German ghost from children stories, I post my own update and get to bed.

@DarthUncle, who is far away from me, your good-night story is online by the courtesy of @Trieste.

 

So, since you posted this, I was on a trip, that then was holiday; last week was just hot; but now, I am here, reading, and appreciating the look at the next generation of Triestes, and how they see the world and start looking at what their place in it is.

 

@AzureAngel2 @brodiew @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

State Apartments, Marian Square, Salis D’aar, Bakura

Like her mother in-law before her, Ayn Trieste had chosen to raise her family in the State Apartments, the residence reserved for the Prime Minister in the Executive Mansion at Marian Square. Though Fionn Trieste of the Trieste Monument on the riverbank had kept his nine-being family at the Noble House-owned seven-story residence called the Plaza elsewhere in Salis D’aar, both Kerry and Ayn Trieste preferred the convenience of using the official residence--not to mention the public prestige of inhabiting the most famous address on Bakura. It also made it easy to host representatives of the other two branches of the Bakuran government on short notice, as Ayn did tonight in the dining room of the State Apartments.

“I see little has changed in the State Apartments since my sister was in office,” Regan Eldred observed as a server put a plate before her with the evening’s dinner.

“One could hope for a little more change,” Ayn said. “For example, and I mean no offense to any of you, but it’s an anachronistic practice for Marian Square to employ sentient beings for jobs that droids could perform.”

The waitstaff made no comment to this remark, which was how they usually handled most situations. Though they were always present in the State Apartments, it was part of their job to say nothing and share nothing, unless explicitly invited to do so. So it had been since the executive residence had first been constructed in the earliest days of Bakuran self-government.

“On that we differ,” Regan said. She looked to the being who had just served her. “What’s your name?”

“Framanu, your honor,” he said.

“Regan, please. Tell me about yourself.”

“Where would you like me to begin?” Framanu asked.

“Let’s focus on why you took this job,” Regan prompted.

“Because it’s a good job, Ms. Eldred.”

“But why should you have to spend your days cleaning and serving my family on a planet like Bakura, where good jobs abound?” Ayn asked. It was more a question for Regan than for Framanu. “We shouldn’t ask beings to do work like this.”

“And what’s your opinion on that, Framanu?” Regan asked, bringing him back into the conversation. “Especially since you said this is a good job. What makes it good?”

“For a being like me, of my education, this work pays well,” Framanu replied. “Though most service work is performed by droids now, beings who do it are often compensated well precisely because there are so many other professions available. But a government job with benefits and federal pay? That is more than I could ask for if I were to take a manufacturing job--assuming those weren’t also done by droids--or a front desk job, which is all I could get with my experience and education.”

“There are job training programs you could make use of,” Ayn pointed out, “designed for beings like you.”

“And even if they were free, it would be difficult for my family to make ends meet in a city like Salis D’aar without the income from this work,” Framanu said. “I know who I am and what I’m capable of. But I came to Bakura because I wanted my children to have better opportunities, educationally and professionally, than I had. I’ll clean Marian Square for another 20 years so they can have that chance.”

“I still want us to do better,” Ayn commented.

“That’s for another night,” Regan suggested.

“Indeed. Framanu, thank you. The justice and I will be all right for the rest of the meal. We’ll let you know when we’re done,” Ayn instructed.

“Of course.” Framanu and the other servants withdrew, leaving the pair alone.

“Enjoying stirring up trouble?” Ayn asked archly.

“No more and no less than you,” Regan said. “A toast, then?”

“A toast,” Ayn said, raising her glass. “To the amendment.”

“May the counties ratify it swiftly,” Regan agreed.

Earlier that day the requisite two thirds of the Senate had approved the Supreme Court term limit constitutional amendment, which would empower the Senate to pass legislation to establish phased terms for the justices, ultimately resulting in 18 year cycles for their seats. Though it hadn’t passed unanimously, it had received support from both parties.

“I must say,” Ayn remarked after pausing for a drink, “I was slightly surprised you were willing to go for it. I thought you would have protested sullying the Court’s reputation by inserting yourself into the political process.”

“Please,” Regan scoffed. “We insert ourselves with our decisions all the time. This was no different, at its core, than a majority opinion.”

“All the same, I don’t think it would have gotten through if it had come from me,” Ayn pointed out.

That had been why, months ago, Ayn had asked Regan to publicly float the idea of term limits for Supreme Court justices. After pushing through BakIncome, repealing the immigration bill, fighting the scarring Uncivil War against the crime syndicates, instituting a new tax structure, establishing college debt forgiveness for public service, and a galactic security agreement, Ayn felt the voters of Bakura weren’t going to be receptive to more legislative proposals from her, even though she was only halfway through her first full term.

However, if it appeared she was responding to someone else’s ideas...that could work.

“Now it’s just a matter of making sure that the counties ratify,” Regan said. “A much less certain process.”

“We’ve made our wishes known on that point inside the county parties and the Unionist senators are pushing on their end. They’d like a nice legislative accomplishment before the next election to show they have the capability to govern responsibly, even in four years of extreme minority,” Ayn said.

“I’ll believe it when it’s done,” Regan reiterated.

“Then to being halfway there,” Ayn said, raising her glass in a second toast.

“Halfway there,” Regan agreed, raising her glass from the other side of the table, “and to productive partnerships.”

“With more to come, I hope,” Ayn said to seal it.

 

@AzureAngel2 @brodiew @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn This will be somewhat remedial for those who follow the Elite League Limmie RPG, but important for what follows.

Bakura

We know now, with the hindsight of history, that the Bakura Miners limmie team is where it started. Inadvertently, it is true, but the threads of the beginning are now clear in the fullness of time.

The Miners were the most prominent asset of the Noble House. As a private asset, their official value wasn’t public, but it was widely believed to be the most valuable holding they had, above and beyond their corporate shares and traditional investments. (It was also the one asset that Vesper Lynd did not manage for Ayn and Declan.) It was a symbol of Bakuran galactic influence, for only a few planets got to play in the highest league, and for three generations Trieste politicians hadn’t been shy about associating themselves with the team that the entire planet could rally around--especially near elections.

When Galactic Sports Weekly reported on the species diversity on Elite League Limmie teams, they specifically called out the Miners for only having one non-Human player and three near-Humans (all of which were Zeltron females, long admired by many Humans for physical qualities in line with Human tastes), it was an item of note, but one that most beings moved on from quickly. Sports were sports and few thought about the link between the Miners and the Triestes when they read the piece.

However, it was slightly bigger story when a relatively small group of protestors wearing burgundy bandanas gathered outside the Miners’ offices with signs and chants demanding, “Let us play!” The size of the protest and its relatively mild message combined to keep it from gaining that much traction. It was still out of the ordinary for such a thing to occur though.

That oddity may have been why a reporter, one of the few beings who connected the dots, asked Ayn about it at a press conference.

REPORTER: “How do you feel about the fact that over 70% of the Miners starting roster is Human?”
AYN: “Honestly, that’s something that I’ve not paid attention to.”
REPORTER: “You attend games regularly--to the point that I can’t think, off the top of my head, when you last missed a game. Surely this is something you’re aware of. The team is right in front of you.”
AYN: “I’m not involved in day-to-day operations of the team. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a few other things on my plate.”
REPORTER: “But you have made Non-Human rights a talking point. Why isn’t it a priority for the Miners?”
AYN: “My direction to Quinn Cundertol is to field a winning team. I don’t get into the specifics.”
REPORTER: “Well clearly he hasn’t been following through on that with your Human roster, so seems like if you’re going to turn in losing records you might as well have some Non-Humans on the roster. Couldn’t do much worse.”
AYN: “Seeing as there wasn’t a question in there, I’m going to move on to questions about the policies and actions of this government, not the operations of a privately-held business.”
REPORTER: “But you’ve consistently used the Miners as a political prop. Why won’t you hold them to the same standards you ask for the rest of the planet?”

Though the Prime Minister moved on to other reporters, the conversation continued long after the press conference was over. The BBC described the exchange as “testy.” The Cape Suzette Gazette said of its hometown Prime Minister that “her deflections were appalling for the lack of art and disregard for the importance of representation.” The Salis D’aar Times, always attuned to the latest news from the government, commented that, “There is a disconnect between the Prime Minister’s public stance and private actions.”

And suddenly--before most of Bakura knew it--this was no longer just about sports.

 

@AzureAngel2 @brodiew @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

Gesco City, Bakura

Caterina Mallow’s dorm common room at UBGC was sullen. Early that morning one of their fellow students, Par Puustolrok, had been fatally shot by GCPD. An investigation “had been opened” into the events leading to the shooting. Preliminary reporting by the Gesco Tribune said it was “a tragic accident.” Why an accident? Despite the officers apparently telling internal investigators for the GCPD involved feeling “threatened,” no weapons had been found on Par.

Par was Kel Dor. Non-Humans on Bakura were vastly more likely to be involved in fatal police shootings than Humans, especially in Gesco City.

“It’s Sithspit,” someone finally said, breaking the pall. “They used lethal force. They didn’t even try to stun him.”

Caterina hadn’t known Par, but she was a Selonian and his death still hit home. She’d been born on Bakura and it hadn’t been until she’d gotten to university and started hearing about the things some of her fellow non-Humans went through that she realized that her homeworld was not always the rosy place she thought it was growing up. For example, the GCPD used stun force on Humans suspected of committing crimes, but for similar crimes non-Humans were dealt with using lethal force. One of the supposed justifications was that non-Humans were generally “stronger” and “could resist stun effects more than Humans” so for the sake of “officer safety” stun couldn’t always be used. It seemed “not always” actually meant “never.”

“It stinks, but that’s the way it goes. The police shoot blaster bolts first when it comes to us,” a Bothan said bitterly. “Sometimes I think I should just go back to Bothawui.”

“You’d really want to leave the place you were born?” a Human asked. The gathering had students of different species, including several Humans who were aware of the imbalance in policing practices on the planet.

“Maybe it’d be better there,” the Bothan said.

“Do you love Bakura?” Caterina asked suddenly.

“I don’t love this about Bakura, obviously,” the Bothan said.

“But when you compare Bothawui to Bakura, do you feel anything?”

“I mean…” he paused. “I guess not. Bothawui’s just a place. My family, my friends are here. This is my home. I don’t want to go, but what choice do I have when I don’t know if some officer could shoot me because they think I look threatening on a badly lit street?”

“Then don’t leave. Do something,” Caterina said.

“Like what? The deck’s stacked against us. We’re college students,” someone else said.

“No, we’re the future. And maybe the future is now,” Caterina got to her feet, “if we want it to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everybody’s talking about speciesism in sports right now. It’s getting reported on galactically. Beings are starting to pay attention to the issue.”

“The Miners did just hire a couple non-Humans to fill some roster spots when there were a lot of Humans they could have chosen instead. It made a difference,” someone pointed out.

“Not in the score,” someone joked, for the Miners had promptly lost the next game.

“But that’s sports. Doesn’t matter how many ELL players are non-Human. They’re going to keep shooting us.”

“Yeah, but the other day someone was pushing Trieste on it. Saw it on The Nightly Show.”

“Oh yeah, that was bad.”

“Right!” Caterina said, jumping in. “That’s starting to get news coverage. I think a moment’s happening. Beings might be willing to listen and think about speciesism, but we need to show them that there are other beings who care about this issue so they don’t feel alone. We need to be out there, public, visible.”

“Yeah! We could do something. A rally, a protest. ‘Justice for Par.’”

“That’s right!” “Yes!” “With signs!”

“This is bigger than Par. He’s the spark,” Caterina said. “This is about all of us. This is…” She trailed off as she thought.

“It’s about Non-Human lives.”

“Yeah. Our lives matter.”

“That makes it sounds like other lives don’t matter.”

“No, it’s about our lives matter just as much as Human lives.”

“Wait--” Caterina cut in. “Wait. Wait.” She looked around for her datapad.

“What?”

“Something from high school civics just popped into my head,” Caterina said. She started typing and swiping. “There was something from the original charter of colonization by Bakur Mining...”

“The colonization that took the land from the Kurtzen, you mean.”

“Yes, but the colonists coexisted with the Kurtzen. Even though there was a land grab, Kurtzen basically lived peacefully with the colonists. Here: ‘We pledge ourselves to a peaceful cohabitation with any and all native sentient beings upon our arrival and acknowledge their inalienable rights coequal with our own.’ Inalienable rights. That’s what this is about: inalienable rights,” Caterina said.

“Alien is a derogatory term used by Humans.”

“We’re going to reclaim it. We’re going to turn it against them,” Caterina declared. “We’re going to say, ‘You want to call us aliens? No. We’re inalienable and we have rights.’ And it all comes from the founding document of Bakura. We’re going to use the patriotism of Bakura, not rail against it. We’re going to show the whole planet that there’s nothing more Bakuran than us.”

“I kind of like it.” “It’s cool.” “Preach, sister.”

“And we’re going to need a symbol. Something that anyone can rally around.”

“I think we already have one,” Caterina said.

---

UBGC campus
The next day

Caterina stood in the second rank of students marching to the main quad of the UBGC campus. Around her forehead was wrapped a burgundy cloth like the protestors that had been outside the Miners’ offices in the first public protest on the planet against speciesism. She held a sign that said WE HAVE INALIENABLE RIGHTS.

“We are Bakurans! We are Bakurans! They’re our rights! They’re our rights!”

The Inalienable Rights movement had begun.

 

This will be good, folks. Trust me.

 

@AzureAngel2 @brodiew @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn but @galactic-vagabond422 would likely appreciate seeing the spillover from what he's created.

Marian Square, Salis D’aar, Bakura

“How did this happen?” Ayn asked. The way she delivered was less a question and more a statement.

“The first protest took place at UBGC,” Holly Remizan reported. “Once word got out through the HoloNet, other university campuses across Bakura began having their own movements. From what I’ve been able to tell, it’s organic. There’s no central organization.”

“That makes it harder to control,” Declan observed. He was sitting on a sofa to one side as the Chief of Staff briefed the Prime Minister.

“The lack of clear leadership means that the movement could go in several directions. Right now it’s an expression of general unhappiness at policing policies, but there are goals too. They revolve around the legal standing, both in principle and in reality, of non-Humans,” Holly said.

“Don’t they know we’ve been more progressive than previous administrations, certainly the last two Unionist prime ministries, on non-Human rights? We’ve bolstered the civil rights division of Justice and empowered them to pursue prosecutions,” Declan said. “What more do they want?”

“For their fellow non-Humans to stop being killed,” Holly said simply.

Ayn steepled her fingers and leaned back in her chair behind her desk. “An effective argument,” she admitted. “What about the off-world link?”

“The burgundy color originally came from partisans of the Atzerri Bandits, farm team of the Carratos Pirates,” Holly said.

“We’d have known that if we had a farm team for the Miners,” Declan pointed out.

“Regardless, Atzerri is a non-Human majority planet and generally not shy about making it known that they’re doing just fine that way. I’ve consulted with Republican Intelligence on the matter and they’re unaware of any interstellar movements being exported or coordinated from there. All the same, by the standards of Bakuran politics the Inalienable Rights movement has adopted a radical symbol. Eventually that’s going to get reported on.”

“What’s the risk level here?” Ayn asked.

“It’s a fire. It’s either going to expand when it finds new fuel or run out of oxygen and burn itself out,” Holly stated.

“I recommend action. There’s too much risk of them burning the house down,” Declan volunteered. “The truth is if we can co-opt them, they could be a powerful ally going into next year’s election. Strong youth movements have always been of use to the party.”

“But they won’t be placated. They’d need to see substantive action before they could be brought on board,” Holly hypothesized. “They know what the Trieste prime ministry has done and are still unhappy with it. Words aren’t going to do it. We’d have to pass legislation that provides federal backstops for local issues. It’s local, but pervasive, policing practices that are at the heart of their protest.”

Ayn considered the arguments. Holly and Declan were attuned enough to the PM know when to stop speaking and let her think.

“Without a leader, it will be difficult to get a handle on this. Monitor the movement. Let’s see if they burn out. Should things continue or grow more intense we can take additional action,” Ayn stated. “What’s next?”

 

@AzureAngel2 @brodiew @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

UBGC, Gesco City, Bakura

“Caterina, I want you to meet someone.”

The Selonian looked up to see Sheeno Gawa, a Human, with an older Human female. Sheeno had marched with the Inalienable Rights movement at its first UBGC rally and had been at several since. He was a recognizable face, even if Caterina only knew him in passing. After all, hundreds of beings, maybe pressing a thousand, were attending marches for Inalienable Rights these days. It was more than she had ever expected--and that didn’t take into account the fact that there were movements on other university campuses on Bakura too.

“This is my Mom,” Sheeno said, introducing the woman. Now that he said that, Caterina saw a passing resemblance.

“Call me Yeoh,” she said, shaking Caterina’s hand and preempting any talk of Mrs. Gawa. “Sheeno was telling the family about you and the Inalienable Rights movement the other night at dinner. I had seen the HoloNet coverage, but he provided context that’s been missing in the reporting. I’m very impressed with what you’ve built.”

“I haven’t built anything,” Caterina said.

“You are too modest. What you’ve accomplished from a dorm room dwarfs some campaigns for the Board of Supervisors,” Yeoh said. “I’m here to help.”

“You are?” Caterina asked with surprise. Thus far this had been a student movement. Even though there had been a lot of attention from media, the oldest participants were graduate students.

“I think this could be something bigger if you had the right support,” Yeoh said. “I’d like to give you that support.”

“Like...what are you thinking?”

“That’s what I’d like to talk about,” Yeoh said. “Let me buy you dinner.”

As a good college student, Caterina never said no to a free meal.

---

Two weeks later, the first off-campus Inalienable Rights march went through downtown to finish in front of the county capitol to demand changes in policing practices.

Yeoh Gawa did not march, but she did watch from the balcony of an office building overlooking the capitol grounds.

“Yes, it’s a good turnout,” Yeoh said into her commlink. “Altogether, larger than was hoped for….No, we shouldn’t exceed the estimate we had in the permit, so there should be no trouble with the city. It’ll still attract media coverage….I think this is what we’ve been looking for….See you when you get home, dear.”

Yeoh ended her call to her husband as she watched the march go by. Not many beings had the opportunity to watch things from such a vantage.

Then again, not many beings owned the building.

---

Marian Square, Salis D’aar, Bakura

“This is getting out of hand,” Declan said. He knew better than to tell Holly and Ayn that he had told them so, even if he had. “Now this Inalienable Rights movement is moving off-campus. It’s getting into the general population.”

“We’re still below the 3.5% threshold,” Holly said, citing the theory that if 3.5% of a population was in the streets on the front-line of a movement it was essentially inevitable it would succeed--even if it took time. “We’re not even looking at half a percent of the population supporting Inalienable Rights--and that’s being extremely generous.”

“Something happened,” Ayn observed as she watched muted coverage by the BBC of the march. “Something moved this from being a student issue to one that engaged the general population.”

“They’ve been media darlings,” Holly said. “The students decided to go straight to government and regular beings were ready to join them.”

“No, it’s something else. Look into it,” Ayn ordered. “There’s more to this.”

She didn’t know how she knew it, but the Prime Minister was right.

 

Somehow you fanfic manages to reflect matters that happen here on earth in very nice, stunning ways.

In case you wonder, I am still around, but reading and reacting less as I used to. My online time is very limited due to a busy real life.

 

@AzureAngel2 @brodiew @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

Gesco City, Bakura

“What we want,” Caterina said, “is for politicians to listen to us.”

She was sitting in on the interview couch of one of Bakura’s late night talk show host comedians in front of a studio audience. The interview would be broadcast later that night across the planet in each time zone. Caterina had been nervous about accepting the invitation to appear on the show, but she knew that the venue would help further raise the profile of Inalienable Rights.

“We’ve heard for years, ‘We’re working on it, we’re working on it,’ but clearly they’re not,” Caterina continued, her frustration evident. “And while they’re ‘working on it’ beings are dying. I know we use a lot of hyperbole in political discussions, but it’s true. Sentient beings are being shot by police and are vastly more likely than humans to be shot.

“We hear our Galactic Senator say how proud she is to be Bakuran, what a contribution we make to the Republic, but how can you be proud of the number of sentient being deaths we have every year?”

The audience applauded to show their support for the sentiment. The university student had been invited to represent the movement on the show, but she’d been clear she wasn’t its leader. Even so, the studio liked her and what she had to say.

“And you don’t think Fianna Fail is doing anything about it? I mean, they’re the party that’s more progressive on these issues if you look at platforms and the positions of candidates. The Prime Minister made it a priority after she assumed office,” the host asked. “She’s brought up in Prime Minister’s Questions that under her administration she’s upped Ministry of Justice resources for prosecuting civil rights abuses, including discrimination against non-Humans.”

“First off, I don’t think we should use the term ‘non-Humans.’ I don’t call you a ‘non-Selonain.’ Why should Human be the baseline for our frame of reference?” Caterina asked.

The audience applauded again. “Fair point,” the host admitted.

“But to your question, sure Fianna Fail is more progressive, but the PM just hasn’t gone far enough. She raised her fist, what, once with Harle Quinn a few years back and she thinks that fixed things? Look, we’ve seen what she can do. Some of the social legislation she’s gotten through the Senate is stuff that a lot of beings, myself included, supported even though they seemed outside of the realm of possibility. But she hasn’t brought the same energy of effort to sentient being rights.”

“Do you think that the protests are working? Do you sense any change?”

“We’re just doing what we can right now,” Caterina said. “In a sense we’re lucky that it’s almost an election year. Now’s the time to get our politicians and candidates committing themselves for a Bakura for everyone.”

---

Marian Square

That same night, Holly made her report. “They have financial backing now,” she stated, handing Ayn a datapad.

“How much?” Ayn asked as she reviewed the summary.

“Compared to other movements, not much, but it’s giving them a framework,” the chief of staff said. “Enough to move off the campuses effectively. We’re seeing Inalienable Rights chapters springing up in communities, hosted in living rooms. There’s a planet-wide network that gives community and coordination, helping the messaging be consistent.”

“What’s our threat level?” Ayn said.

“Growing,” Holly admitted. “They’re only going to be placated by action.”

The Prime Minister stood from her desk and looked out a window at the park lands surrounding Marian Square. “We don’t have the capital to pass legislation on this issue. That could tank the election.”

“We’re starting to pick up on the conservative reaction,” Declan said. “There are Unionist candidates up and down the ticket who are latching on to the protests as a talking point, saying that these crazy college kids are running wild, that the universities need to step in and stop it, make them go back to class. If we did pass legislation, they’d throw the whole party in with the protestors as aiding and abetting these university radicals.” Ayn knew Declan’s political read on this was right.

“Co-opting the movement is our only choice then,” Ayn stated.

“They’re an anti-establishment group. We do that formally, then we’ll get splinter groups against the sellouts,” Declan advised. “It’ll just fracture the problem. Instead of one movement, we’ll have a dozen.”

Ayn laced her hands behind her head and stretched her back. “If we embrace their policy goals, the Unionists will tar us with the same brush. If we ignore them, the Unionists will tar us with the same brush--and there’ll be a backlash against us from them.”

“The youth vote is important to us,” Declan agreed. “Depending how close next year gets, we could need it badly in certain Senate districts, not to mention in the general vote.” The general vote for Prime Minister, specifically. “We need them to think we’re with them, but we need to bring the heat down to focus on other issues. Winning issues.”

“Then we cut off the credits. Let it die a natural death that won’t be seen as our doing and then make some promises during the primaries to energize the base,” Ayn said, the pieces clicking into place in her mind. “Where’s the money coming from?”

“It would require warrants to find out legally and that’s not something you want recorded at the Ministry of Justice,” Holly said. Unspoken was an understanding that it could absolutely be done illegally if the Prime Minister gave the word. “However, I had someone pull the permit for the first protest on the Gesco capitol. There was an attorney’s name on it.”

“Anyone we know? Crane Poole & Schmidt has a major office there. We could make inquiries,” Declan said. CP&S had formerly been the Noble House’s attorneys until Declan and Ayn had moved to the former Fleetfire Zarmer, now Fleetfire Talon.

“It’s a private attorney,” Holly said. “I pulled some court records in Gesco County to see who else they’ve represented in the past several years. Looks like they almost exclusively represent one family. The Gawas?”

Ayn knit her brow. “Who?”

“The Gawa family,” Declan said stepping in.

“You know them?” Ayn asked.

“Yes. I’m surprised you haven’t.”

“Who are they?” Holly asked.

“Quite possibly the richest family on Bakura,” Declan said.

“Richer than us?” Ayn asked incredulously.

“Unquestionably,” Declan affirmed. “And if they’re involved…” He looked from Holly to Ayn as he composed his thoughts. “...then we’re in uncharted territory now.”

 

Wow. Ayn and Declan are no longer the biggest thing in the room. How will they react?

 

@AzureAngel2 @brodiew @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

Marian Square, Bakura

“The Gawa family first came to Bakura in 219, when the planet was being resettled,” Declan explained. “Unlike most of the beings my grandfather convinced through his eloquence to come here, they had no connection to the planet. What they saw, however, was land. Land that belonged to no one, not even a native population.

“They had enough of a nest egg to buy property in the new Gesco City. Not much, about a city block.” Declan filled a glass with ice and whiskey as he spoke. “They built on that, collected rent, bought more land. And they built on that and rented it. And so on and so on until they became the biggest landowners in the county. They’re landlords of apartment buildings, offices, industrial, retail, pretty much every use you can think of.”

“So then come I’ve never heard of them?” Ayn asked incredulously. “You don’t get that much wealth without attracting attention.”

“Because they’ve got the level of wealth where they make sure no one’s ever heard of them,” Declan countered.

“So then how do you know about them?” Holly asked wryly.

“They still want beings to show up at their parties.” Declan gave a small shrug. “From time to time that’s included the Noble House, but the Gawas aren’t political so it’s rare we get an invitation. Never been involved with either party. Their family philosophy seems to be ‘business goes on.’ They’re very Gesco City like that. Not much for Salis D’aar like us.”

“When was the last time you saw them?” Ayn asked suspiciously.

“High school. Mother knew them better than me. Even if they’re not political, they couldn’t help but invite a Supreme Chancellor to an event from time to time. I think it was a charity gala,” Declan said.

“Does she still know them?” Ayn’s voice was suggestive.

---

Kilmainham Brook, Prytis, Bakura

“An unexpected honor,” Yeoh Gawa said, shaking Ayn’s hands with both of hers, briefly but firmly. “I was surprised when we received your invitation.”

Through Kerry, Declan and Ayn had asked the elder Gawas to dinner. Though Mr. Gawa had declined, citing business responsibilities, his wife had accepted. Declan had suggested the more private Kilmainham Brook, which did not keep visitor logs like Marian Square did. Though no one spoke of it, the Triestes picked up Yeoh’s subtle approval regarding the privacy of the venue.

“Your name came up recently and I was surprised that Declan had to tell me who you were. I thought we knew everyone worth knowing on Bakura,” Ayn said as they moved through the great room towards the large dining room.

“We live a simple life. Family is the most important thing to us,” Yeoh explained. “However, I am curious what brought us to your attention.” Everyone could sense that the real question was underneath her words: why had these executive summons been issued?

“We heard that you’ve become involved in the Inalienable Rights movement,” Declan said, cutting through the conversational mist. “Granted, it’s been decades since I last saw you, but that seemed out of character for the family. It was...surprising.”

Yeoh smiled as she sat with the other two at the dining room table and unfolded her napkin. “My son. He goes to UBGC and has been involved in the movement. He insisted that we do something to support them. I offered the services of our family attorney to help them with some march permits. It was an indulgence, but I am prone to indulging my children.”

“Naturally,” Ayn agreed. “However, this puts me in a delicate position. While well-intentioned, the Inalienable Rights protestors make it difficult for Fianna Fail to do what they want.”

“Sentient being rights will be a priority for us once we’re through 296--assuming we win,” Declan affirmed, “but if we have to spend a lot of time on the campaign trail saying so, it could inflame the issue to the point that we won’t be able to pass meaningful legislation even if we win.”

“Accordingly, we’d like to ask that you not assist the movement further,” Ayn said, going to the heart of the matter as dinner was served.

“I understand completely. My apologies for the unintended consequences of my actions,” Yeoh said. “I will let my son and his friends know it was a one-time deal.”

“You have our thanks,” Declan said. “Let us know if we can return the favor.”

“I surely will,” Yeoh said.

---

As the woods of Prytis faded over the horizon, Yeoh Gawa did the math on what time it was in Gesco City on the other side of the planet. Late morning, she figured. She started the holoprojector.

“Caterina,” she said once the connection was made. “Are you available in a few hours? We need to talk.”

 

There is a lot more to the Gawas than meets the eye. I am not convinced they don’t have ulterior motives. A powerful family that has influence almost always uses such influence. I will be following this closely.