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

Actually, the laws probably aren't that strict, and one could simple ask the parents to sign (as part of their contract with the kindergarten perhaps?) that it is allowed to hang up foto's of their child in the corridor.

Well, there's another escalation - I too hope Ayn's grandmother isn't right. But regardless, since I can't change anything, I will happily read the fallout

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

Marian Square, Salis D’aar, Bakura

And so the Uncivil War raged through the streets of Nouvelle Orleans. The ELT syndicate, backed by offworld arms and foot soldiers, ran a guerilla war against the federal DOCTF forces. Raids were answered by drive-by shootings of officers. Spouses and extramarital partners were shadowed, even though they were civilians, just in case they might lead officers to the principals of the syndicate. Warrants were issued by government-sympathetic judges on the slightest evidence.

Across the planet, Bakurans watched, horrified, as the stately, lazy city of Nouvelle Orleans underwent its second siege of the century. The first one had involved an invading army, one that had been held off by an impenetrable shield of energy that fell to one of the most daring military exploits of their Civil War. This siege took place in their streets with no clear battle lines or sides. It burst into being suddenly and unexpectedly and then went quiet for days. Commercial activity continued, children went to school, and beings still went about their daily lives...but underneath it all was a tension that this war between crime and the police might one day claim innocent lives.

On the HoloNet, some began questioning whether it was all worth it. “The federal government is deploying officers and troops in Nouvelle Orleans costing how many millions of credits? And to stop what? Crimes that are, compared to murder and theft, victimless? Is the cost justified by the outcome, even in the best case scenario?”

Yet there were plenty who held the line for law and order. “This is about whether some beings can circumvent the laws, the agreements that decent, honest beings live by, to get ahead at others’ expense. This is about whether we have a level playing field for every Bakuran.”

By now such commentaries had all become just so much noise for Prime Minister Trieste. Tonight the affairs of state were far from her mind. The truth was that despite her former iron fist control of the Senate as Minority Leader and Deputy Prime Minister, the Nouvelle Orleans situation had caused the Fianna Fail-dominated Senate to suddenly become resistant to enacting legislation she wanted.

“The party feels now is a time for caution,” the Deputy Prime Minister had told her earlier that day. “There’s enough going on right now that our attention should be focused on eliminating the syndicates, not pushing through ambitious legislation.”

Ayn knew what that really meant. She’d delivered such veiled language to leaders before. Her own party wasn’t going to make any more bets on her until she proved she would be victorious. They didn’t want to go down with her in the 292 election if this all went south. Supporting her legislation would make it harder to distance themselves from her on the campaign trail. The Senators were thinking of their own careers, not hers.

It meant there were no more choices left: she had to win this war. She had to beat Antrose. Yes, Declan had slunk back from losing to Madsen and they had regrouped, infiltrating and subverting his administration. That strategy was no longer an option. If ELT wasn’t smashed, she would be thrown out of office, perhaps without even getting the party’s nomination in 292. Declan would be gone with her. That would make them the worst thing of all.

An ex-politician.

This frightful reality made it so Ayn couldn’t sleep. She was trying to put herself under with a half-full tumbler of whiskey, but so far her mind was just spinning faster, not slowing down.

She started at a touch on her shoulder.

“It’s me,” Declan said at the same moment that Ayn’s head snapped over to see who was there. “What is it?”

Ayn willed herself to untense her body. “I was just thinking about what we’ve done to get here,” Ayn admitted.

“What we had to,” Declan assured her and without hesitation.

“I’m not sure I believe that anymore,” Ayn replied. It was uncharacteristic of her to express doubt and Declan noticed.

“All we have to do is get Antrose out of our way. Then we won’t have any liabilities going into 292 and you’ll have a reputation as the Prime Minister who cleaned up Bakura,” Declan declared. “It will be brilliant.”

“And what then?” Ayn asked standing. She walked restlessly about the room. “What terrible thing will we have to do next, all in the name of a better Bakura? Where does it end?”

“We both know that slums have to be bulldozed to make room for affordable housing. Painful truths must be uttered before reconciliation. Innovation will displace workers from one economy to the next. Progress comes with cost, but it has brought us this far--” Declan took his wife’s hands in his, halting her pacing. “--and it will take us so much further.”

“And what price will we pay to bring about this progress? Our souls? Have we lost them already?”

“I would sell mine gladly for Shenandoah and Niall,” Declan vowed. “I would give everything so they would have everything.”

“Is that right?” Ayn asked.

“Right, wrong, it’s how it is,” Declan said, quietly. “The question is do we turn back now, or do we see it through and do what needs to be done?”

Ayn dropped her hands from Declan’s and turned away to look out the windows of the State Apartments at the Salis D’aar skyline at night. She said nothing for a good while. The pale glow of the night reflected on her face.

“I wonder if Niall Trieste knew the terrible decisions the Taoiseachs would make,” she murmured. Her husband didn’t hear, but she didn’t need him to. She remembered her oath. She thought of her children.

Turning back to Declan, she said, “What time is it in Gesco City?”

***

Gesco City, Bakura

Rickard Harlow’s comm buzzed on his desk. He hesitated for a moment, for he was in the middle of reviewing budget spreadsheets for the coming quarter’s operations at The Rivers. However, his attention was already broken and he picked up the small device.

“This is Rickard,” he said.

“Rickard, you said you’d do anything to protect your family,” Ayn’s voice came back.

“Yes,” he confirmed, his face falling into stern lines.

“Then the Noble House has need of you.”

 

Bye bye Antrose

 

“Rickard, you said you’d do anything to protect your family,” Ayn’s voice came back.

“Yes,” he confirmed, his face falling into stern lines.

“Then the Noble House has need of you.”

You give the term "nasty" new meanings.

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 (who will note that this takes place before the current spot in the ELL timeline) @Vehn and @galactic-vagabond422 so he can keep up with Gaius's off-field goings on

Salis D’aar, Bakura

“When do you get your ring?” Gaius asked, eying Elza’s unadorned right hand ring finger.

“First game of the season. We’re at home. They’ll do a big ceremony with the banner raising. Rumor is it’s going to blow the rest out of the water,” Elza said.

“It will until the Pirates win it all this year. They love limmie so much there that you’ll probably be able to see the ring from space,” Gaius kidded. The pair were spending the offseason training together on Bakura. Gaius would have preferred going somewhere else, but Elza had insisted she needed to come back with the Antrose situation.

“Outside the playoffs looking in to Cup champions?” Elza mused. “Tall order.” Her attention turned back to her datapad.

Gaius rolled his eyes. “What’s so important that you’re stuck in that? Secret plans to beat the Pirates this season?” he joked, reaching for the datapad.

Elza playfully held it beyond Gaius’s reach. “You wish. Trixie, Corrie, and I are trying to run down Antrose’s financials. If we can freeze his assets, his organization will disintegrate. Criminals are in it for the credits, so take away the credits and he’s got nothing. Problem is he’s got about five layers, maybe more, on top of all his funds.” Elza was back to looking at the datapad. “His ELT operating funds, which we can see, are completely clean. We’re watching him down to the centicred and it’s all 100% above board. I’ve been running the numbers and they’re not even inflated for money laundering. He’s good, really good.”

“Then let Trixie and Corrie handle it. I don’t want you getting more involved in this than necessary. Jax--” Gaius suddenly stopped.

“You were going to say Jax almost died because he got involved,” Elza said, looking up at Gaius filling the awkward silence. “And we know who almost killed him.”

Gaius didn’t want to talk about it. “It’s dangerous,” was all he said. “And it’s their fight.”

“We’re either in this family or we’re not--and it’s a heck of a lot better to be in it than out of it.”

“But don’t you see? We don’t need to be. Not anymore,” Gaius said, taking Elza’s arm--firmly but affectionately. “You did it. You fulfilled the plan. You won a Galactic Cup. You have their respect and always will. But it’s so much more than that. Now that you’re on Euceron and I’m on Carratos, we don’t need them anymore.”

“And if we leave, what’s going to happen to Avie if Antrose loses?” Elza asked, her eyes cold and clear. Gaius’s hand fell from Elza’s arm. He bit his lip and looked away. “She’s more family to us than anyone else. We have to protect her.”

“Avie made her choice,” Gaius said, his voice low and hard. “We tried to talk her out of it and she didn’t listen.”

“I’m not walking away from her,” Elza said, turning back to her datapad, this time for good. “If I can end this war soon, before anything happens that can’t be undone, I just might be able to save her.”

***

Nouvelle Orleans, Bakura

“The Red Queen is coming,” someone said.

Antrose’s crew looked up expectantly. It had started as a joke, the pretty little entitled girl thinking that she could hang with the button men and women of the syndicate. There was a story that she’d pulled some trick in from of some council of war, but it was just a rumor, probably started by Antrose to get the crew to respect her. They’d kept their disdain private, secretly betting on how long it was going to take before some marshal toasted her during a raid.

The day the counterraid happened, when she took down a dozen officers and marshalls with nothing more than a vibroknife, they’d all turned their stakes into her in tacit admission that she was more formidable than they’d given her credit for.

Now they called her the Red Queen because wherever she went the red blaster bolts flew and she walked out on top.

Avie walked into the ELT hideout and looked at the eyes on her. “Okay, what is it today boys and girls?”

They looked at each other and a few of them nodded to each other.

“Sabacc cards,” someone said.

Avie laughed and gave an approving jerk of the head. Somebody tossed her a deck and she caught it with one hand on the fly. “Let’s go.”

***

Twenty eight minutes later

The ELT goons were engaged in a warehouse shootout with federal forces. They had suspected that the feds might try to take this shipment of goods and been prepared for resistance. That was why the Red Queen had come.

Avie was hunkered down behind a pillar, blaster rifle in hand. Just because she could take out a room with a vibroknife didn’t mean she had to. Once she’d gotten her aiming down, Avie had realized that blasters were just about the greatest invention ever. If she’d had two blaster rifles she could have taken over Kitokaime all by herself. However, she wasn’t thinking about her homeworld. Instead she was focused on keeping the promise she’d made half an hour ago.

The brunette leaned out from cover to sight an enemy and then pulled back to avoid the blaster bolts headed her way. She let her blaster rifle hang by its strap around her corner and then swiveled around the corner. In that same motion, she let a sabacc card fly end-over-end in a pinwheeling arc. The card sliced into the forearm of one of the officers, who dropped his blaster with a grunt of pain and pulled back to cover.

“Winner winner, Endorian chicken dinner kiddos!” Avie called out to her comrades from cover with a smile. She received a few encouraging hoots from those not actively engaged in returning fire.

Ever since the vibroknife incident the foot soldiers of the syndicate dared her before each encounter out to take someone out with a given weapon. First it had been standard weapons, but as she’d demonstrated her proficiency with each in turn they had started getting more creative and outlandish: meiloorun fruit, a purse (that one had been somewhat sexist, but Avie had shown them up by choking out a marshal with the strap), and now sabacc cards. She was the dervish of the syndicate and a hero to everyone in ELT.

Long live the Red Queen.

 

The Queen of Hearts would also love this.

AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 (who will note that this takes place before the current spot in the ELL timeline)

Noted!

 

Hmm, that's cool, but showing off does not often end in anything but being shown up by someone taking that person out more efficiently and with less pomp.

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

Salis D’aar, Bakura

Jax stroked his newborn son’s head. Elfie lay on the bed, exhausted, with tears in her eyes. She’d thought Jax was going to miss the birth, fighting in Nouvelle Orleans against the syndicates. Instead, six hours after she’d gone into labor, Jax burst into the hospital, care of a private shuttle that Declan had dispatched to bring their loyal warrior home for this major life event.

“I have a son,” Jax said as he looked into the dark brown eyes of this small child. “I have a son.”

“We do,” Elfie sighed.

“Kid, we’re gonna have some fun,” Jax promised.

Watching the pair, Elfie’s heart longed for her husband to come back from the gang war. Jax looked over at her in that moment and could read the concern on Elfie’s face. “What is it?” he asked.

“Don’t go back, Jax. Please, don’t,” Elfie begged. “You’ve done enough. Let everyone else take it from here. We’re going to need you now. You have a family.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jax said, sitting down on the bed next to his wife with their baby. “I’m careful.”

“You nearly got killed out there,” Elfie said, her eyes full of tears.

“Nearly. That’s what’s important.”

“If it hadn’t been Avie…”

“It was Avie,” Jax pointed out. “But I’m not going anywhere for a while. I want time with this guy,” Jax said with a smile. “What were you thinking about for a name? Maybe something from the family?”

“How about Alexandr?” Elfie suggested. “We could call him Lex, after my grandmother.”

“Perfect,” Jax said, kissing his wife on the forehead.

***

Nouvelle Orleans, Bakura

“It’s only a matter of time before they find the money,” Ronan told his son inside Antrose’s study.

“They haven’t found it yet,” Antrose said with determination, “and that means they won’t.”

“Antrose, you’re good, but they have the entire investigatory power of the federal government that Ayn can use to find this,” Ronan argued. “I can tell they’re poking around. I’ve heard from some of my colleagues that they’re making inquiries at other banks. They haven’t come near Fidelity yet, but that’s because they looked there already.”

“Republican Intelligence couldn’t even follow this money if somebody told them where to look,” Antrose countered. “I’ve buried our assets so deeply that they might as well get shovels and start digging.”

“If they think they could find it, they’d do it with their bare hands. They know without your credits everything grinds to a halt,” Ronan said. The worst part was that it was true. The only reason that his personal assets hadn’t been frozen is that it would call attention to the Trieste involvement in the conflict.

Antrose was quiet. He knew his father was right. As well as he’d hidden the syndicate’s money, given enough time the feds would find it. He turned to the window and thought. “Then I need to win before they get to the money. I’ve got the blasters and beings from the offworld syndicates backing up my people.

“I need to win this war now.”

***

Marian Square, Salis D’aar, Bakura

“Antrose has made things more difficult with his offworld help. According to what the task force has seen, they’re all non-humans,” Holly Remizan reported.

Declan cursed. He understood what this meant without being told. “We keep arresting the offworlders, it undermines the public perception we’ve been trying to promote of this as policing effort directed at humans to counteract the historic non-human incarceration rate and ensure equal administration of justice,” he said. “It’s not going to play well with the party.”

“No, it’s not,” Holly said, “and the shootouts are only getting bloodier. Two officers killed yesterday.” She paused, considering her next words carefully. “And we’re still using stun weapons.”

Ayn was quiet, her eyes focused on something far beyond the walls of the Executive Mansion. She said nothing during Holly’s whole briefing.

“We need to take the gloves off. Tell the task force to start shooting to kill,” Declan declared.

“We still hold the moral high ground,” Holly said. “The press knows it. This is still the brave federal agents against the lawless thugs. We start killing beings and we make it a lot harder for beings to support our position.”

“How close are we to finding the money?” Declan pressed.

“Still not close enough. It’s like Antrose built a labyrinth for investigators. Everything that shows promise has dead ended thus far.”

“Is Rickard ready?” Ayn cut in unexpectedly.

There was silence for a moment.

“Yes,” Holly reported.

“Ayn, I don’t see why--” Declan started.

“It has to be done,” she said, harshly.

“There’s a high level of risk,” Holly said evenly. Though it was a statement of fact, the Prime Minister and Minister of State could tell that she was taking Declan’s side.

“But it’s what needs to be done,” Ayn decided. “Tell him to go.”

Holly nodded once and left the room.

“There are other ways,” Declan said, when they were alone. “Cleaner ways.”

“None that work out so well if everything comes together,” Ayn said.

“There are a lot of ways it doesn’t. He could die. Are you really ready to tell Ginny you got her husband killed?”

“I have to try,” Ayn said, “because of the oath.”

“The oath,” Declan repeated. “Damn Niall’s oath. Damn it to Korriban.”

 

I think I need a reminder as to the nature of this oath...

 

It was easiest to pull Declan's given how I represented Ayn's, but it's the same oath with different names substituted.

 

Seems to me they should probably have tried nipping this in the bud a long time ago, probably via fatherly pressure (but of course, at the time that was an option, neither Declan nor Ayn were head of the House). Wait, so what's Rickard going to do, if not kill Artrose?

 

Who says that's not what he's going to do?

 

Rickard will do his best...

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

Nouvelle Orleans, Bakura

(For best results, begin at 0:45)​

Avie looked around the warehouse. “That’s everything, right?” she asked.

“Should be,” one of the ELT syndicate members said.

“‘Should be’?” Avie repeated darkly. “We’re not in the less-than-100% business.”

The associate was appropriately chastened, but his compatriot spoke up. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

“Excuse me?” Avie asked, with an arched eyebrow.

“You’re not ‘in’ this business, are you?” she said, cocking her head. “You just showed up and started killing beings.”

“And you think that doesn’t mean that I’m not in this with you? The death of federal agents is something that doesn’t bring me inside?” Avie asked. She took a couple of steps towards the other woman. Avie was shorter than the ELT made-woman, but the height difference didn’t translate into a difference in intensity between the two. Both throbbed with a deadly energy.

“You might have the rest fooled with your fancy fighting, college girl, but you’re heart’s not here. What’s going to happen when the summer’s over and they’re expecting you back in pretty Prytis with the other rich kids? Going to do your blood-stained clothes in the dorm laundry room?”

“I’ll be back there with the rest of them, because this war will be over and Antrose will have won by then,” Avie declared.

“And why do you care? What do you get out of it?”

“I get to feel alive,” Avie breathed with a dark power.

And then the side of the other woman’s head whipped to one side and the smell of charred flesh invaded Avie’s nostrils. The woman hadn’t hit the floor when Avie’s reflexes, honed by years of survival on Kitokaime, kicked into action. She dove instinctively for the ground. Her compatriot turned in the direction of the blaster bolt and was met with one in his chest. Avie scrambled behind the nearest cover, a permacrete pillar.

“Finally! You’re here to fight for real!” Avie shouted from her protected position as she pulled her own blaster out. “Now that you’ve given up stunning us let’s really do this!”

Avie came out on the opposite side of the pillar in a crouch, aiming. The move was designed to surprise the shooter as they wouldn’t have thought that she’d come out from a position where she would have a harder time sighting the shooter. Avie had quickly done the angles in her head and almost immediately snapped off a shot towards the origin of the blaster bolt.

From a different direction, a laser bolt slammed into her blaster, causing it to spin away across the permacrete floor with an echoing clatter. Avie ducked back into cover, mentally cursing. She was surrounded. But the shots that had taken out the ELT operatives had come from the same place, not from different angles…

“Let’s just take a deep breath, Avie.”

“Rickard,” Avie called from cover, recognizing the voice, “should have known it was you.” The sniper had no incentive to keep the two thugs alive, but he had one not to take her down, no questions asked. “Jax out there with you?”

“I’m not with the feds,” Rickard said. His voice had moved again, but from its direction Avie knew she was still protected. He was probably minimizing his exposure but making sure if she made a move he’d have her in his crosshairs. He also had to plan that she was still armed. Rickard was good.

“Of course not. Ayn doesn’t have the stomach to do what it takes, to let the feds off the leash. That’s why she’s going to lose,” Avie said.

“That’s where you’re wrong. If this was a family squabble, if the government wasn’t involved, Ayn would have taken care of things permanently a long time ago,” Rickard promised.

“And yet you just dealt with them permanently,” Avie said, referring to the bodies on the warehouse floor.

“I’m not Ayn and I’m not the feds,” Rickard pointed out, his voice cold and serious. It was the voice of the sniper he’d been in the Marines.

“Don’t tell me you missed me earlier with that shot,” Avie kidded him, but they both knew it wasn’t much of a joke. It took much more skill to shoot the blaster out of someone’s hand than it did to put a blaster bolt through the center of their body mass.

“I’m here on instructions from the Taoiseach,” Rickard said. “It’s time for you to come in from the cold. Rejoin the family.”

“And spend the rest of my life in a federal prison? No thanks,” Avie declined. “I’ve done things this society can’t forgive, Rickard. I did them because they were inside me all this time and they had to come out. The first chance I got, I took it. This, fighting, is all I’ve known. It’s the only place I belong.”

“I went to war too. I know you never really come back,” Rickard shared. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Yeah, you with a rifle pointed at my head. Real relaxing way to talk,” Avie deadpanned.

“Well, we’re not going anywhere for a while,” Rickard said, “because my orders were clear: you’re coming back with me and leaving this all behind, or you’re not leaving at all.”

“And here I thought you just wanted some quality time with me, Rick,” Avie called back.

Avie was trying to do the logic in her head. How long before they were missed? Would the syndicate send anyone after her? They were going to find out...it was just a question of what was going to happen first.

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

Nouvelle Orleans, Bakura

“Why’d you kill them?” Rickard asked.

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that,” Avie said with a single chuckle that had no humor in it. It was as hard a sound as the permacrete preventing Rickard from shooting her on the spot.

“The officers, the day that Jax was on the raid.”

“Shouldn’t you ask me why I didn’t kill Jax?”

“No. I know the answer to that,” Rickard said.

“Then what’s the answer?” Avie challenged.

“He’s family.”

“So are you. So is Ayn. And here we are.”

“Would you put a blaster bolt between my eyes if you could, right now?”

“Under the circumstances, not giving me a heck of a lot of choice, Rick.”

“But you had a choice with Jax.”

“You had a choice today too,” Avie retorted. “You could have stunned those two, but you shot them dead.”

“They’re not family,” Rickard said, his voice steady. “Not mine, not yours. Not ours.”

Both were quiet for a moment.

“So why’d you kill those officers? You knew the feds were using nonviolent force. You escalated this,” Rickard continued.

“Because…” The word hung in the air for a couple seconds. “Because it made me feel like I was on Kitokaime again.”

***

Two days later
Nouvelle Orleans, Bakura

Elyse Carlowe locked her terminal for the day. One of the benefits of working for her father in-law (in deed, if not in fact) was that she got to keep literal bankers’ hours at Fidelity Fiduciary Bank. She could drop off Elon at daycare, do her work, and pick him up, all before the afternoon traffic rush took place. It was a good life, one that she wouldn’t have had without Ronan’s generosity. Elyse didn’t have a university degree like all the Triestes (with the exception of Serena Jane, who had hit the concert circuit instead of going to university), but Ronan had taken her under his wing to teach her accounting and banking principles to the point where she now only had the occasional question about her work.

Grabbing her bag, Elyse said her goodbyes to her coworkers and headed down to the parking deck where her speeder was waiting. It, like most everything else in her life, was a gift of the Triestes. She would have said the Noble House, but that wasn’t true. Ever since Antrose’s break with Ayn, Elyse had stood with the Nouvelle Orleans Triestes and the grandparents of her son. It had been simple. She knew them, for they had been the ones to welcome her into their lives--she didn’t know the rest of the family.

Pulling out into the streets of Nouvelle Orleans, Elyse noted the presence of her protection, put in place by Antrose as a precaution, behind her in a second speeder. Elyse was a civilian and probably not at risk. Fidelity Fiduciary Bank was completely unaligned with Antrose’s criminal operations. She was clean. However, Antrose wasn’t one to take chances, especially not with the regular clashes between his operatives and federal agents.

Elyse could make the drive to the daycare center with her eyes closed at this point. If she didn’t enjoy driving for its own sake, she might have engaged the autopilot and read a book during the trip. Instead, she took the broad avenues of the city in their course, patiently waiting through traffic signals like others citizen.

When Elyse reached the daycare, she walked inside with a pleasant, “Hello,” to the regular receptionist.

“Elon’s still sleeping,” the receptionist said, buzzing Elyse in. “I’ll take you back.”

Elyse followed the man to a room where Elon was very much not asleep, but crawling about in regular play. “Hello there,” Elyse cooed, scooping her son up. She looked at the receptionist. “They there?”

“Right outside the back door,” he promised. “Force speed you.”

“Thank you,” Elyse said. “One day I’ll show my thanks.”

“Give him a good life. That’s enough for me,” the receptionist said, giving Elon a final farewell pat.

Elyse walked briskly out the backdoor of the daycare where another speeder was waiting. Elyse knew they didn’t have much time. The driver popped the door open and Elyse got down in the back seats. Instead of sitting, she laid down on the floor of the speeder, cradling her son against her body. “Isn’t this fun?” she told Elon happily, even though she felt nothing of the sort.

The speeder pulled out of the back alley and turned up a side road just as Elyse’s Antrose-provided protection got out of their speeder, having realized that the young woman usually came out of the daycare by this time. By then, it was too late.

***

One day later
Atalanta, Bakura

The speeder had traveled through the night and into the next morning before it arrived in Atalanta, the closest major metropolitan hub. They hadn’t been stopped by anyone, police or criminal, on their journey. It wasn’t until they reached a Kubaz restaurant that Elyse finally stopped running.

She walked through the doors with her son and sat down at a table--one that already had an occupant.

“Comfortable journey?” Holly Remizan asked.

“Comfort wasn’t my overriding concern,” Elyse said as she shifted Elon on her lap. “What they need to know is Spectrillium.”

“That’s where the credits are?” Holly pressed.

“I don’t know, but I know that a lot of credits are moving through it. It’s where they should start looking.”

Holly nodded. She’d already sent the information to Elza, Corrie, and Trixie to focus their financial investigations. “The Noble House owes you a great debt.”

“For now, let’s just get to Gesco City. Atalanta’s a little too close to Dixie for me,” Elyse said as she stood.

“I’ll see you there personally,” Holly promised. “You’re on the side of the angels now.”

Elyse Carlowe had finally gotten the courage to do what she’d always felt had been right but never been strong enough to do: throw in with the Noble House of Trieste. It might ultimately deprive her son of grandparents, but it would give him his best chance, not just at life, but at being a good man one day.

Like Enoch would have wanted.

 

“I’ll see you there personally,” Holly promised. “You’re on the side of the angels now.”

Angels for some, demons for others though.

 

I hope she's right; brave woman, I hope this takes her out of the worst of the impact crater when the Trieste civil war hits.

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

Nouvelle Orleans, Bakura

“I was there once,” Rickard said.

“Nobody was there until Falene and her ship came,” Avie challenged.

“No, not Kitokaime. Where you were mentally…emotionally,” Rickard said. “After the Ssi-Ruuk War. Except I wasn’t as lucky as you. I couldn’t keep fighting.”

“And yet here you are pointing a rifle at me,” Avie said sarcastically.

“They discharged me from the Marines. Honorably, according to the certificate,” Rickard clarified. “But not really. It was because I’d been injured. Lost half my face.” Forestalling Avie’s question, he added, “Before you knew me, I had May fix it. I hadn’t wanted to for the longest time.”

“Why not?” Avie asked, this time with curiosity.

“I didn’t know for a long time, but it wasn’t until after I’d met Ginnifer, after I’d decided to have it fixed, that I realized why. It made me feel like I was still in the war.”

“Was it everything to you too? The rush of survival? The thrill of a fight?”

“It was clarity. I knew what I had to do, all the time, every time. Just look down the scope at my target and pull the trigger. All for my homeworld, for a just cause. The galaxy was simple.”

“Things still simple looking down the barrel now, Rick?”

“Not particularly,” he admitted.

***

Salis D’aar, Bakura
Five days later

The comm on Sevan Hull’s desk at the Salis D’aar Times buzzed. Like any reporter worth his salt, Sevan picked up immediately. You never knew what kind of tip was going to come your way and it didn’t pay to be too discerning.

“Sevan Hull.”

“Sevan, it’s Holly,” the PM’s Chief of Staff said.

“Holly, what can I do for you?” he asked.

“Who do you trust the most at the Times?”

Sevan considered for a moment. “I’d say Eloise Harker. Why?”

“We need to tip someone,” Holly Remizan said. She forestalled Sevan’s next question. “And it can’t be you.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s about Nouvelle Orleans.”

“Holly, I’ve been leading the paper’s coverage of that. It’s my story,” Sevan protested.

“It’s got to be someone outside the family. Someone who’s going to be tough and fair. Otherwise it’s not going to work,” Holly said.

“Why’s that?”

“Because we’re putting the endgame in motion.”

***

Three days later

PM’S COUSIN IMPLICATED IN NOUVELLE ORLEANS SYNDICATE

The headline of the Salis D’aar Times grabbed the attention of every media outlet and citizens across the globe the moment it went public. Eloise Harker detailed alleged involvement by Antrose Trieste in one of the largest Nouvelle Orleans syndicates, including coordination of organized crime’s efforts in the war against federal law enforcement officials. Though the article pointed out that no indictment had been handed down against Antrose, it cited unnamed Ministry of Justice officials who confirmed that he was the subject of a federal investigation.

A few hours later, Ayn Trieste made an unscheduled appearance at the regular press conference. It was a master workshop in crisis management.

“I am saddened that a family member is under suspicion of these activities. At no time was I briefed by Attorney General Fefkik on any specific investigation in Nouvelle Orleans, including into members of my family, nor will I be in the future. The independence of the Ministry of Justice in its enforcement of laws is has long been enshrined in the Bakuran political system,” she said clearly and confidently.

“I would like to note that until a few years ago, the Noble House of Trieste finances were managed by my uncle, Ronan Trieste, Antrose’s father in a blind trust where I did not have specific knowledge of decisions or holdings so as to not abuse any public office I have held. This arrangement was terminated due to Ronan’s own desire to step away from these activities. At no time were any of my family’s assets managed by Antrose.” In response to a reporter’s question, Ayn answered that she was unaware of any federal inquiry into her finances and that yes, she expected complete cooperation in any query by the Exchequer.

Then came the question of the moment: “Madam Prime Minister, would you pardon Antrose if he were arrested and convicted?”

“Absolutely not,” she replied resolutely.

The Uncivil War was now public and the whole planet knew that Ayn and Antrose were on opposite sides. If they could have taken their eyes off Nouvelle Orleans before, they couldn’t now.

 

What happens next to Avie will be very interesting indeed. Curious if the best way to defeat Antrose is to fold his illicit operations into the Bakuran government. Make them legit....anyways looking forward to how this unfolds on the streets of Nouvelle Orleans

 

“No, not Kitokaime. Where you were mentally…emotionally,” Rickard said. “After the Ssi-Ruuk War. Except I wasn’t as lucky as you. I couldn’t keep fighting.”

Well, Avie and Rickard take each other emotionally apart like Ssi-Ruuk. This is worse than just aiming for body parts. Very tense conversation.

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn At least this Prime Minister doesn't mumble like Gary Oldman...

Nouvelle Orleans, Bakura

“You really going to pull the trigger if I pop my head around the corner?” Avie asked.

“I told you—there’s a road back. I’d prefer you took that,” Rickard said.

“And I told you: I’m not going away for this. I’d rather take the blaster bolt.”

“Did I ever say you’d go to prison?” Rickard pointed out.

“Like Ayn would forgive any of us this opposition to her rule,” Avie scoffed.

“There would be penance, but that would be between you and her, not the justice system.”

“And yet Trixie’s been throwing syndicate members in prison the moment the marshals can get their hands on them.”

“They’re not family.”

“This deal extend to Antrose too?”

The question was met with silence.

“That’s what I thought,” Avie said.

“Your deal would not be Antrose’s deal,” Rickard said.

“And what’s my generous deal?”

There was silence again.

“That’s between you and Ayn,” Rickard informed her.

“Hooray,” Avie said flatly.

***

(For best results, begin at 5:07)​

Bakuran Senate Building, Salis D’aar, Bakura
Ten days later

“Senator Carringdon,” the Deputy Prime Minister announced.

It was the first session of Questions to the Prime Minister after the Times expose on Antrose’s involvement with the Nouvelle Orleans syndicates. Sure enough, the Unionist opposition went straight to that topic for their first question.

“This week the Salis D’aar Times reported—a report that was confirmed by the Prime Minister—that a member of her own family is a central figure in the ongoing war against the crime syndicates in Nouvelle Orleans. I speak for the planet when I say I am absolutely befuddled at the state of affairs. Surely the Prime Minister was aware of her cousin’s underhanded dealings and could have taken action in such a way that would have prevented the terrible loss of life. If she was, then shame on her for such callous disregard for the lives and families of law enforcement officers. But if she was not, then we have before us a Prime Minister unaware of what her own family is up to, blithely unaware of criminal activity in her own House. If she does not realize what is going on right under her nose, then how are we to trust that she can competently manage the affairs of this world?”

The Senator sat down to a chorus of supportive murmurs from his fellow party members.

“In response to the Senator, I was unaware of my cousin’s extensive dealings with the criminal underworld—dealings the Ministry of Justices now links to offworld crime syndicates. Had I been aware of them, I would not have tried to take action in the way suggested by the good Senator, for he seems to imply that I could have quietly negotiated an end to the whole business over a cup of tea. No, I say to the Senator and to this body, had I known, I would have taken the matter straight to the Ministry of Justice so a proper investigation, like the one that has occurred and is still ongoing, would have taken place. I ask—no, I refuse any favor to my family as a result of my position as Prime Minister. I insist on equal treatment under the law. That is a cornerstone principle of Bakuran civil society and I will not see it eroded on my watch.

“In the name of our political institutions, I call for this Senate to empanel a special committee for the purpose of reviewing the Ministry of Justice’s prosecution of the Nouvelle Orleans syndicates to ensure that the letter and spirit of the law has been followed. Bakurans deserve to know whether anything was done that unfairly advantaged my family in this matter. Should the Senator be interested in upholding the principles of good government rather than simply scoring points during question time, I recommend to him that he get working on just such a resolution!”

There was a supportive general shout from the Fianna Fail Senators at the PM’s deft turn to throw the matter back at Carringdon.

“But I have yet to take up the final point that the good Senator made: my competence as Prime Minister. He claims that someone who was unaware of transgressions by their extended family could not possibly manage the affairs of state. What would the Senator have me do? Spy on my own family to learn their darkest secrets? I would not have such a Prime Minister—even if she were me! Omniscience is not a reasonable expectation for any politician…unless of course the Senator can tell me what all of his cousins are up to at this very moment.

“But there is a greater point here that I would like to make: the presumption of innocence enshrined in Bakuran society. It is easy to say that all bad actors should be stopped before they cause harm. Would that it could be so. But I would not have it so if it meant that nine innocents should suffer to catch the guilty one. I would not have it so if five innocents should suffer to catch the one. I would not have it that one innocent should suffer to catch the nine! I believe in the goodness of beings until proven otherwise and that is the only basis for our government that I wish to see!

“The law is taking its course. Let a special committee confirm that is so and have this body carry out is constitutional check against the executive. And let me say again, on the record of the Senate, what I have said before: I shall not seek, nor would I accept, any leniency for anyone, members of my family included, found guilty of colluding in the subversion of our laws. Should the Ministry of Justice arrest my cousin and he be found guilty by a jury of his peers, he shall answer to the full consequences of those acts. That is the position of this government now and as long as I shall be in Marian Square, and may there be no doubt on that point.”

That night on the BBC, one political commentator summed it up best: “Ayn Trieste has been a parliamentarian for almost her entire career. Her responses in Question Time were merely satisfactory—until now. This was, without question, her finest moment on the floor of the Senate since becoming Prime Minister.”

 

Great turn around there from Ayn; she sure reads/sounds as if she means it, which is all the better, as we know she might have had some pre-warning of Artrose's dealings before it got to this point, and we know she's bound to protect the family first; but well manoeuvred so that now it is out of her hands.

Not sure what Avie wants, she's cool, but maybe not the brightest star on the world; though I have to admit, for me beings that put honour above all other consideration, are either gullible/stupid, or should first make sure they are aware of all the facts and need to see honour worth defending as part of a personal honour system, so that bad guys do not get the benefit of their support when their deeds are threatened to be exposed. That of course also goes for the whole Sith society: empathy and cooperation are values a good society needs more of than bad ass fighters that will fight to the death (quick endings otherwise follow for said society ...)

 

Well, my husband already brought things straight to the point. So I can drag a sun chair out now and wait for the next update.

(PS: Also loved "The darkest hour". )

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

​

Nouvelle Orleans, Bakura

“So how many more pearls of wisdom do you have back there, Rickard?” Avie asked. “Seems like there isn’t much left to say. I take the deal or I don’t take the deal.”

“I don’t think that really captures the nuance of the situation,” Rickard observed.

“Not much nuance in there if you ask me.” Avie was quiet for a second. “Hey, you ever read about Niall Trieste?”

“Which one?”

“The first one.”

“It’s been a while.”

“So there’s this apocryphal story. Supposedly he once asked, ‘What are your choices when someone puts a blaster to your head?’ You know what he said? ‘You can take the blaster, you can pull out a bigger blaster, you can call their bluff, or you can do any one of 146 other things.’”

“You got a bigger blaster or are you going to call my bluff?” Rickard asked.

“Wish I had a bigger blaster,” Avie lamented.

“I don’t recommend calling my bluff.”

“Never would, Rick. You’ll have me lined up the moment I come out from here, won’t you?”

“I will.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Avie tossed something out from behind the pillar. The movement caught Rickard’s attention and he instinctively followed it with his rifle scope. He realized what the item was only when it was too late.

The flash grenade went off before he could avert his eyes. Rickard’s eyes were burned by the sudden light coming through the magnification of his scope. His training kicked in and he only barely kept hold of his rifle while he rolled to one side to get behind cover.

“Avie!” Rickard shouted, even though what he already suspected was true.

She had taken advantage of his temporary blindness was already gone.

***

Salis D’aar, Bakura
Thirteen days later

Elfie put her head against her husband’s shoulder. She knew she couldn’t stop him from returning to his work in Nouvelle Orleans. She wished she could, though. With Antrose now publicly named, she could only imagine that things were going to get more dangerous.

“You’ve done your time. You don’t have to go back,” she tried, knowing her plea would have no effect. “No one would think less of you for returning to regular duty here in the capital.”

“One more tour,” Jax promised. “Things are coming to a head. It’s not going to be much longer. We can all feel it.”

“The syndicates are only going to be more desperate now with all the names in the meida. It’s going to be more dangerous, not less.”

“But when it’s over, Bakura’s going to be a safer place. For everyone…including Lex.” That was the nickname they’d given to their son Alexandr.

“Okay, you’d better go,” Elfie said. She gave her husband a kiss. “Before I change my mind and take your binders and cuff you to something. Cabinet door? Towel rack? There’s got to be something that would hold you.”

“This little guy is about the only thing that could,” Jax said with a smile as he held his son one final time before departing.

It was with a heavy heart that Elfie watched her husband start up the speeder to take him to the spaceport. He gave a wave through the window at Elfie and Lex in her arms. He was about to put the speeder into reverse and head down the street when he stopped and got out.

“Sorry, just need one more kiss to keep me going, babe,” Jax said with a roguish smile.

His lips were just shy of touching his wife’s when their speeder exploded.

 

This story is getting a bit explosive. I like it.