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

Good contrasts between the glory of yule tide and dirty political games.

I am not around very often these days, because another nasty infect has brought me down & I have serious trouble threatening my work life plus private life. So please forgive me, when I am not a frequent reader once more.

 

No apologies are ever needed!

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

Atalanta, Bakura

​

“My fellow Bakurans, members of the Union Party,” Samson Drave declared to cheering crowds from the convention hall in the battleground city of Atalanta, “I’m Samson Drave and I’m running for Prime Minister!”

Ayn and Declan watched from the Executive Mansion in silence, assessing the being who was now officially Ayn’s main challenger for her job. Neither spoke for they weren’t going to give the holoprojector their fury. Even though they disagreed with almost everything Drave would say tonight, they still listened. They had to if they were going to answer his charges and vision for Bakura effectively.

Right now, the party that had just blessed him with their approval and given him one of the highest honors that could be bestowed upon a citizen of Bakura---nomination for the office of Prime Minister--was going nuts at what had become Samson Drave’s signature line during the campaign.

“The danger to our federal union has never been greater,” Drave declared. “We have an unelected Prime Minister who pushes a radical plan for Bakura. Our so-called Prime Minister thinks she knows best. This Cape Suzette liberal is dangerously out-of-touch with the common being of Bakura. She cares more for criminals than law enforcement officers. She cares more about taking the credits out of your pocket to give them to lazy beings who wouldn’t work a job if you gave them one than she does about making sure that the hardworking Bakurans can get what they deserve for playing by the rules.

“Make no mistake: the only being who will do better in Ayn Trieste’s Bakura is Ayn Trieste!”

This was greeted with loud cheers from the assembled delegates of the Union Party. The BBC, which was broadcasting the convention as part of their duty as a public information source, panned across the convention hall floor to show the beings on their feet, many of them wearing yellow, the traditional color of the Union Party, as they lauded their newly-minted nominee.

“As you no doubt know from following the primary campaign, there were many who said that I was not the right being to challenge Ayn Trieste,” Drave said solemnly. “They said I was too gruff, that I didn’t bring the right resume to the job. Some beings called me things much worse than that, the nicest of which was that I am a son of a gundark. Let me make one thing clear.

“I am a son of a gundark.

“Do you know who else is a son of a gundark? Thaddeus Karr. The ExO of the Corporate Sector. The Grand Moff of the Empire. The Diktat of Corellia. The Supreme Chancellor. Who do you want representing Bakura when the chips are on the table, when it really matters? Do you want a lily liberal who wants to take into account everyone’s feelings? Or do you want a Prime Minister that will stand up and say, ‘Bakura first: today, tomorrow, and forever’?”

A rising wave of cheers met this last sentence. As it did, Declan’s grip tightened dangerously around his glass, his hand shaking with strain. “No one insults my wife with that patriarchal, misogynistic Sithspit,” he said, his voice low and full of menace.

“Our Prime Ministers have been more interesting in kowtowing to Coruscant than they have been in listening to Bakurans. We all know that the current occupants of Marian Square want nothing more than to follow in Kerry Trieste’s footsteps and use ordinary Bakurans as a springboard to the Galactic City and higher office. They don’t care about you and your struggles.

“I’ve spent my entire life on Bakura. True, I may not own an ELL limmie team that lets me get wined and dined by the oligarchs of the galaxy. I don’t know the Vigos or the Vehns or the K’ntarrs or the casino barons of Carratos or the Manda’lor or the Alarees. I don’t laugh with them in skyboxes, far removed from the ordinary beings. I am a being of the people--I am one of you!

“And I promise you here and now: I will do what’s right for you, for the everyday Bakuran, to make Bakura great again.” Another shout of approval for the recurring theme of Drave’s campaign. “I will not listen to the corporate cronies of the Triestes and the drawing room elites who think they know better than you what this planet needs. Together, we will create a better Bakura, one where every being can prosper, unfettered by the artificial obstructions of a government bureaucracy that is more interested in sustaining itself than helping the Bakuran economy. I’ve grown businesses here on Bakura and I know firsthand how hard it is to get anything done with government regulations. It’s why I’ve slashed them in Gesco and why I’m going to do it all over Bakura.

“292 will be the year that we tell the galaxy that Bakura is open for business!”

Ayn stood from her chair and started walking out of the parlor where they were watching the HoloNet.

“Heard enough?” Declan asked.

“More than enough,” Ayn said. “It’s time to beat this son of a gundark into the ground.”

 

Not that. Anything but that.

 

Precisely @jcgoble3! Thaddeus Karr and Samson Drave are cut from a very similar cloth. Maybe they have reached out to one another.....

 

Now that's an idea...two ambitious politicians who don't much like the influential political dynasties of their territories (which, incidentally, are branches of the same family).

 

Political drama and intrigue that are never boring. This is what I love about your story so much.

 

I also like it better in fiction

Well written prose, looking to be an interesting fight building.

I do wonder whether Dave forgot, or only forget to mention that Declan got his first posts with hard work and effort (though not without planning cunning and some slyness).

 

Why let the truth get in the way of a good story?

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn Welcome "the show," everyone!

Golden Prairie, Telaan Valley, Bakura

​

“...and welcome back to our coverage of the 292 Fianna Fail Convention, live from Golden Prairie in Telaan Valley,” the BBC anchor said. Behind him was a panorama of the convention floor and delegates in their seats as a politician spoke on the raised stage in the hall. “Last night, the convention formally nominated Ayn Trieste for Prime Minister.”

“And all went as expected,” his counterpart said. “The Prime Minister was nominated by acclamation--no surprise seeing as she was unchallenged in the Fianna Fail primary. Needless to say, things get significantly more difficult for her now.”

“Care to elaborate on that?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “The Prime Minister has been a popular figure in her own party, evidenced by her former status as their parliamentary floor leader, but she’s not a candidate that energizes casual voters. She’s viewed as a Salis D’aar insider, largely thanks to the fact that she rarely came to the fore during Question Time on the floor of the Senate, preferring to let other members of the party get the high-profile time before a national audience. It shows in her polling numbers. Despite a high name recognition as a sitting PM, Trieste only has 40% support from likely voters. Samson Drave, riding a post-convention high, sits at 42%--a really great position for a challenger--with 18% undecided. That has to be a worrying sign for Trieste given the fact she’s been Prime Minister for two years now. She’d like to see much higher support at this stage.”

“There are some who have said in the wake of Drave’s surge that the PM should have stepped aside for her husband, Minister of State Declan Trieste.”


“He has always been a more visible public figure, even with the PM’s planet-wide addresses during the syndicate war in Nouvelle Orleans. In fact, he’s got a considerably higher approval rating than her: 56%. She’s going to need him on the campaign trail to boost her numbers.”

“And that campaign begins in earnest tonight. In a few minutes, the Minister of State will introduce his wife to the convention. What does Ayn have to do tonight with this speech?”

“She’s got to connect with voters¶¶. Right now she’s a distant figure in Salis D’aar to the ordinary Bakuran. Voters don’t think she cares about them or their plight. They think Samson Drave does. This is Trieste’s best chance, in front of a planet-wide audience, to forge a bond with Bakura.”

---

Backstage, Ayn and Declan stood together, their federal marshal protection standing a respectful distance off.

“This is it,” Declan said, putting his hands on his wife’s waist.

“It is,” Ayn agreed as she slipped her arms around her husband’s back.

“Four years ago, when I last addressed the convention, do you remember it?”

“How could I forget? It was the beginning of all this,” Ayn said.

“When I stood there and endorsed Madsen, the only thing I was thinking about was this moment: when I would come back and I would introduce you to all of Bakura,” Declan said. “Everything I have done since the last convention has been leading up to this moment. The speech you are about to give is my finest work. You will deliver it flawlessly. You will win their hearts. You will be elected in your own right as Prime Minister. You will lead our homeworld and our children into a new age of prosperity. And the historians will look back at this night and say, ‘That night was when we learned who Ayn Trieste was.’”

“And no one will know they were your words,” Ayn said. There was a hint of sorrow in her voice.

“Because they are not. They are our words.”

As Declan and Ayn kissed backstage, the announcement came on the convention floor: “Gentlebeings, the Minister of State, Declan Trieste!”

---

“Beings ask me all the time, ‘Who is your wife?’” Declan addressed the convention.

“The question always surprises me, because I see who she is every day, in every decision she makes, in every thought she has. She is someone who cares, first and foremost, about building a better Bakura. It drives her from the moment she gets up until the moment she lays down to rest--and it is still on her mind as she goes to sleep. I’d know--I’m right next to her.”

The delegates chuckled.

“Now some beings don’t ask me who she is. They already know. They tell me, ‘Your wife’s just a politician.’ She is--because she has been in the halls of power for decades, fighting for the middle class--working Bakurans--to preserve safety nets, to guarantee fair wages, to maintain and foster a clean environment we can hand on to future generations.

“Some beings say, ‘Your wife’s a bureaucrat, a Salis D’aar insider.’ She is--and that’s who gets things done in the capitol. She has forged legislative compromises that other beings couldn’t have brokered. I know this because they’ve tried and failed. She has advanced legislation that has benefitted millions of Bakurans by putting planet over party and beings over pride and taking the credit.”

The roar of the delegates grew louder with each repetition.

“Some beings say, ‘Your wife has her eyes on bigger things.’ She does--because the only thing she cares about is not titles or putting her name on a building, but how she can make life better for Bakurans great and small. I have seen her carry the burdens of this planet on her shoulders for these last two years and let me say this: I saw my mother do the same as she took this planet through its darkest days since the Sith occupation. My wife carries burdens just as great on her shoulders. There are no medals for governing and doing the right thing--but if there were she would have more than you could count.”

“When beings tell me who my wife is, do you know what I say?” Declan asked, his voice rising above the crowd. “I tell them, ‘My wife is Ayn Trieste and I thank the Force she is our Prime Minister!’”

The Fianna Fail faithful went crazy at the rhetorical payoff to Declan’s speech.

“And I could tell you more about my wife and what she has done, and will do, for Bakura, but she doesn’t need a man to do that for her! She can do it herself!

“Gentlebeings, my fellow Bakurans, I give to you our Prime Minister, Ayn Trieste!”

 

Quite the master manipulators indeed. Playing with Bakura like a puppet.

 

They sure are and what a dangerous game that could be going forward....well done

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn "And Johnny will rise gallantly to his feet...stand in front of the microphones and begin to speak..." (Maybe don't watch if you don't want to have The Manchurian Candidate spoiled )

Golden Prairie, Telaan Valley, Bakura

​

Ayn stepped onto the stage with a smile and a wave as she was lauded by the members of her party for the first time as Prime Minister, for the first time bearing the seal of their approval as nominee for the planet’s highest office. Declan met her part of the way to the podium and they shared a brief kiss and a private word before she stepped up to the podium.

“My fellow Bakurans,” Ayn began, “it has been suggested that because I espouse certain policies that I cannot fight for Bakura, that I am not willing to do what it takes to help every Bakuran prosper and succeed.

“If that’s what you believe…” Ayn paused. “...then you don’t know me.

“To those who doubt me and my resolve to lead Bakura into a better future, I say here and now, to the planet, to the Republic, and to the galaxy: I’ve got a lot of fight in me.”

The Fianna Fail partisans, who had just settled into their seats for a long speech, were on their feet again at the defiance of the Prime Minister and the flash in her eyes.

“My fellow Bakurans, Samson Drave is right: this election is about whether a few beings are going to do better or if everyone is going to do better. But he is dead wrong that a vote for him is a vote for the ordinary Bakuran. He is quick to point out that corporations headquartered in his county have seen record gains on the stock market. Therefore, he says, it only stands to reason that the economy of Gesco County is strong and that his policies will make Bakura strong. But this is the difference between Samson Drave and me: he believes that the stock market is the only indicator of success. Everything must be subsumed to this one goal.

“And in Samson Drave’s Gesco, we need look no further than his county’s own tax records. The rich are getting richer, but the middle class is hurting. The cost of living is going up and wages aren’t growing with these increased profits. You see, these regulations that Samson Drave rails against aren’t there just to make life difficult for beings. They’re a reflection of the values of society.

“Economic markets operate by rules, stated and unstated. There is no natural, pure state to them. Economies reflect our values. We can create an economy like Gesco, where we privilege the rich who have made their fortunes and protect them at the expense of others. That’s what Samson Drave will do.

“I believe that profits are important, but not the only measure of success. I have seen businesses throughout Bakura first hand over the last two years and I know that they provide so much more: meaningful work, philanthropic support for the community, and a tax base for education and infrastructure spending to keep those communities healthy. Businesses are part of the fabric of Bakuran society and have a role to play--but they also have responsibilities to the communities they are part of.

“But Samson Drave doesn’t believe this. In fact, he doesn’t want you to think about it. It is no accident that he puts so much stress on this idea he has peddled throughout Bakura for the last several months: we need to go back to the good old days. We’re not told exactly what those days are like, nor do we hear about those who were left behind in the good old days. Speeches are made in front of our flag and vague promises that appeal to everyone are given. We can bring those good old days back, we are told, if only we put our trust in the great being who asks it of us.

“My fellow Bakurans, the good old days were filled with the Galactic Empire oppressing its citizens, non-humans being enslaved, and autocrats pillaging the environment to fuel their war machines. The good old days are a lie.” She slammed her open palm on the podium to punctuate her point, startling the delegates with the sudden sound.

“We can look back to a past that never existed, or we can stand with our feet on the shore, look forward to the horizon. We cannot see what lies beyond, but I hear it calling us. To be a great society, as Bakura is destined to be, means to accept the challenge to voyage to lands unknown. It is the spirit that brought Deredith Arden and those early settlers to Bakura. It is the spirit that brought so many beings to this world after the Neo-Sith War. It is the spirit that lives within us now!

“For Bakura is not a nation--it is an idea--and you cannot make an idea great again!” Ayn declared to the great delight of the Fianna Fail delegates, who reveled in this refutation of Samson Drave’s campaign slogan. “It is up to us match our everyday actions to that idea, to pass it on to our children, to accept the demands of citizenship. Bakura cannot flourish when we let others think for us, when we deny the divine spark within another sentient being, or when we believe that things are too broken to be fixed.

“But if we are daring enough to claim it, there is a great Bakura out there--one where we measure our success by how well our citizens do, what quality of life they have, what opportunities are available to every citizen regardless of their birth, species, or gender. I believe in this Bakura with all my heart! The time has come for us to choose! Do we want a Bakura where we slave away to the almighty credit or do we want one that puts beings first?

“We approach a new century, a century that will go to the bold! But we can only go there together. We must decide now whether we will live in faded greatness or build a legacy that will echo through history.”

Ayn paused and looked straight into the camera.

“Bakura asks much of us. Being a Bakuran is hard. It is more than voting. It is advanced citizenship. No one--no authority from on high, no moff, no executive, no dictator, no president--makes decisions for us. We are a government of the beings and for the beings. I stand before you and lay claim to no achievements, for I have done nothing. You have done everything. You are and shall be the authors of the great works of our federal union.

“And we have within our grasp a day of peace, a day of justice, a day of equality, a day of sorority, a day of liberty! That day is not tomorrow--it is today! The better Bakura is not greatness again, but a new glory!” Ayn pounded her fist on the podium over and over in time with the cadence of her speech. “I shall not sleep, I shall not rest, until we reach that day!”

“My name is Ayn Trieste, and I am the Prime Minister.”

The rebuttal to another of Drave’s famous lines from his stump speeches shocked the Fianna Fail convention into applause and cheers and convinced many viewers at home that this was an Ayn Trieste they’d never seen before. This was a being with a beating heart, not a distant bureaucrat.

Her address concluded, Declan stepped back onto the stage and kissed his wife. They were off and running again. 292 would be their greatest triumph yet.

The twin 14 year-olds Niall and Shenandoah joined their parents to share the spotlight with broad smiles as they basked in the reflection of their parents’ glory. They looked at the great crowd and felt its adoration. Then they looked at each other and smiled. It would be three days later that they founded Young Bakurans for Trieste to spearhead outreach to young voters, many of whom had gained the right to vote since 288.

It seemed politics was catching.

---

Gesco City, Bakura

Samson Drave stood from the couch where he had watched the Prime Minister’s address in silence.

“All right,” he told his wife and advisors, “it’s time to win this.”

 

Excellent speech. And the twins are 14 years old?! Where has the time flown?

 

Tell me about it!

 

Have been on the road, so to speak, but now found opportunity to read and respond here.

Hmm, Drave full of confidence yet, but perhaps that is better than him thinking he needs to work harder.

That was a beautiful speech, well done. It would definitely make me think about voting for her.

It remains a high stakes game, with beings for pawns,but given that is the case, glad it is being played well, and with heart behind it.

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn It seems like a cold Christmas is becoming a theme around here...

Salis D’aar, Bakura
As broadcast on Primeday Forum



“I’m joined today by Federal Attorney for the Southern District of Salis D’aar, Trixie Penn,” host Nellie Cotter informed her audience across Bakura. Primeday Forum was one of the major weekly morning political talk shows on the planet. These shows often generated some of the most talked-about quotes from politicians on Bakura and were mandatory viewing for political junkies. “Thank you for being here.”

Trixie gave a nod of acknowledgment as she was drinking caf at the moment, which was a little different than the usual Thank you for having me, that most guests responded with. They also usually weren’t drinking from the branded mug that was on the table in front of them that paradoxically were usually more for show than for consumption.

“Ms. Penn, you have the distinction of having served as Federal Attorney for two jurisdictions, as last year you were Interim Federal Attorney for Nouvelle Orleans during the federal law enforcement action against the syndicates there. Under your direction--and in fact many times with your appearance in court--hundreds of syndicate members were tried, convicted, and sentenced.”

“Are you going to get to a question, Nellie, or are you going to just say nice things about me? Because I’m okay with the latter,” Trixie said with a hint of a smile.

“My question is that you are, behind the Attorney General, the most prominent legal figure on the planet.”

“Still not a question, but thank you,” Trixie said, swiveling side-to-side in her chair.

Nellie appeared to be a little disconcerted by her surprisingly assertive and wry guest, but it appeared to prompt her to finally come to her question. “What’s next for you?”

Trixie shrugged. “Depends who breaks the law.”

“Any major cases on your sensors, like the Eden Banking Group suit? Not only did you secure a 1.2 billion credit fine against Eden, but you also secured criminal convictions carrying jail time against two dozen executives who oversaw insider trading schemes. It’s rare that prosecutors have ever sent traders to jail.”

“We have several ongoing investigations at the moment. I’d love to tell you about them, but that would endanger the ongoing work of federal marshals,” Trixie said. Then she coughed.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Nellie asked.

“No. Nothing at all.” Trixie coughed again, but this time it was almost like she said something in the cough.

“Did you say ‘Forsit’?” Nellie pursued. Forsit Capital was a major hedge fund on Bakura.

“Absolutely not,” Trixie denied. “I just had a tickle in my throat. Next question, Nellie.” Trixie drank some more caf, ostensibly to soothe her throat.

Nellie looked askance at Trixie, as if she didn’t fully believe her, but consulted her notes. “Given your high profile and your family connection to the Prime Minister, do you aspire to higher office, like Attorney General? You could become the youngest Attorney General in the history of Bakura if you were named AG in Prime Minister Trieste’s next term, assuming she wins one.”

“You know the answer to that,” Trixie said.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

“Oh come on. You’ve heard hundreds of politician answer that question, or ones like it,” Trixie said. “Say it with me now.” Trixie changed her voice to be husky, as if imitating someone...perhaps Samson Drave. “‘Nellie, I am focused on serving the people of Bakura where I’m at. That’s all I’m thinking about right now.’”

“So does that mean you are interested in a job like Attorney General?”

“It doesn’t matter if I am,” Trixie said sitting back.

“Why’s that?”

“Because Ayn Trieste isn’t going to want to make me her Attorney General when she finds out I’m not voting for her...which I guess she just did,” Trixie said with a shrug.

“You’re not voting for the Prime Minister who nominated you to this office?” Nellie asked in disbelief.

“Absolutely not.”

“So does that mean you’re voting for Samson Drave?”

“My vote is a private matter. We have a secret ballot for a reason,” Trixie said, turning her eyes up towards the ceiling, portraying false innocence.

“Do you expect the Prime Minister to relieve you of your post in the near future? Is that the reason for your sudden public position against her?” Nellie pressed.

“I’m pretty sure she won’t.”

“Government officials who serve at the pleasure of the Prime Minister, like yourself, have been sacked for less,” Nellie pointed out.

“I think it’d be a major problem for her if she fired me,” Trixie said.

“Why’s that?”

“Because of the investigation I’m leading into the financial affairs of the Noble House of Trieste,” Trixie stated.

Nellie’s jaw would have dropped if not for her journalistic training. “You’re saying that there’s an investigation into the Prime Minister’s finances taking place at the federal level?”

“Yes,” Trixie said simply before she drank some more caf.

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“Yes,” Trixie said.

Then Trixie said nothing. Nellie looked at her and raised her eyebrows, encouraging Trixie to go on. “And?”

“Oh, would you like me to elaborate on the investigation?” Trixie asked.

“Absolutely.”

“You should have asked me to. You asked me if I could elaborate, which I could physically do. However, I’m unwilling to since it’s an ongoing investigation,” Trixie said. “You’re not very good at your job. You should know what words mean, Nellie. Anyways, during my time overseeing the District of Nouvelle Orleans, I became aware that Ronan Trieste, father of one of the convicted syndicate leaders, Antrose Trieste--”

“Your cousin,” Nellie clarified, “and Ronan is your uncle.”

“If by ‘cousin,’ you mean ‘criminal I personally saw sentenced to at least forty years in prison,’ then yes,” Trixie replied tartly. “Anyways, Ronan Trieste managed the finances of the Noble House. Given his connection to his son, we believed that there were grounds for an investigation.”

“And what have you discovered thus far?”

“As I said before, I don’t comment on in-progress investigations,” Trixie said.

“Except you’ve commented on this one to say that there is any investigation,” Nellie pointed out.

“If I hadn’t I would have been fired and then Bakura wouldn’t know if their Prime Minister is reaping the wages of sin,” Trixie said.

“And is she?”

Trixie looked at the camera with a glint in her eye and smiled.

---

“Hey honey, how was work?” Horst Penn asked as he played video games on the couch. Little Quill was asleep next to him.

“Good,” Trixie said as she set her purse down.

“Do anything exciting?” Horst asked without looking away from the game.

“Nothing much, just threw chaos into the election,” Trixie said, kissing her husband’s head.

“Cool cool cool,” Horst said distractedly. “Oh, somebody called for you.”

“Who was it?”

“Some guy. He had a weird name. Landon Grave.”

“What did he say?”

“Just to thank you for following through on your promise. He said should look forward to being a General or something. Does that mean you’re going to get a cool uniform?” The thought of the uniform was enough to cause Horst to pause the game.

“Something like that,” Trixie said with a smile.

 

Oh oh Trixie.

 

Trixie is the best being in the galaxy at being Trixie. No one else could handle that interview the way she did. That was brilliant.

And now I wait for Ayn and Declan's reaction.

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn

Bakura

It was absolute chaos.

If it had just been Drave lobbing grenades at Ayn Trieste, that would have been politics as usual. If had just been Trieste needling Samson Drave about his politics and his insistence on “making Bakura great again,” that would have been expected.

But it wasn’t. It was much more than that.

“The question that every Bakuran should be asking is this,” Samson Drave thundered at one of his campaign rallies, “is our Prime Minister a crook?”

Thus began a dance of public statements where the candidates circled each other, responding to the other’s statements while talking past them, everything passing beneath the thin veil of general principle and not questions about Ayn’s character.

“My finances were placed in trust from the day I embarked on my public service journey. It is completely inappropriate for any politician to use their knowledge of public affairs to enrich themselves,” Ayn said. “I never have and I never will.”

“It would be one thing if the Prime Minister faced a Senatorial investigation--one housed in a separate branch of power--but for this to be done by a Federal Attorney? One appointed by her? You know it has to be bad when your own appointee turns against you,” Drave forecasted.

“Justice will be done in my prime ministry, no matter who is the subject. The Prime Minister takes an oath to uphold the constitution of Bakura. The Prime Minister isn’t above the law--no one is more subject to the law than the Prime Minister,” Ayn commented.

“All of this sanctimonious philosophizing would sound better if it were delivered by someone who couldn’t just fire the being investigating her,” Drave said. “And that’s the truth--Federal Attorneys serve at the pleasure of the Prime Minister. The moment Trixie Penn finds anything damning, you know Ayn Trieste is going to fire her.”

When asked in a one-on-one interview with the BBC, Trieste took that up without hesitation. “I will not fire Penn. There is a wall between the Ministry of Justice and Marian Square in matters of investigation of the executive branch.” When prompted, Ayn said, “It would require Senatorial investigation and sanction for me to consider removing Penn from her post given the nature of her current investigation.”

“I don’t know about you,” Drave said to a jeering crowd, “but I’ll believe that when I see it.”

The accusations went round and round. Were the Noble House assets held in a blind trust? “Of course. I know some of the holdings that are particularly public and reported on in the press--it would be hard to not know I own the Miners, you know--but I don’t know where most of them are and I certainly don’t participate in any decisions about them. That’s what a blind trust is.” Who managed the money? “After Ronan stepped down, of his own request, we’ve had a board of advisors. They’ve included my niece Elza, my cousin Vesper, and my cousin in-law Corrie Ypres. Would Governor Drave like to issue subpoenas in the Federation and cause an interstellar incident?” Did she know about Ronan’s ties to the syndicates? “Can anyone point to a report that shows he participated in the syndicates? The sins of the son are not the sins of the father.”

And all the while, reporters besieged the Federal Attorney for the Southern District of Salis D’aar, Trixie Penn, for updates on her investigation.

“No comment,” Trixie said.

“No comment,” Trixie said.

“Snap crackle and pop,” Trixie said.

“No comment,” Trixie said, winking.

“If there’s anything illegal, you can bet your stuffed porgs I’ll tell you,” Trixie said.

“No comment,” Trixie said with a smile.

And the investigators trooped in and out of her offices in the financial district of the capital, sometimes with boxes that nobody knew the contents of.

“No comment,” Trixie said, “except I have better things to do than run down dead ends.”

As the investigation continued, so did the chaos.

 

Ayn's public reaction is one thing, but the truth will be revealed in her private reactions. I am very interested to see the latter.

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn It's not quite the end...but the end is in sight.

Marian Square, Salis D’aar, Bakura

​

The First Family of Bakura had a rare evening at home, a break from the rigors of the campaign trail. Ayn was gone the most, for it was critical that she connect in-person with as many of Bakuran’s 80 million citizens as she could. Declan came in a close second, for he was using his popularity to buoy his wife’s numbers as much as he could. “If you believe in me, then you believe in Ayn because I’d be nothing without her,” Declan declared.

Thanks to Young Bakurans for Trieste, even Niall and Shenandoah were out of town a fair amount. However, there had been a decided shift in their message after an event at the College of Deredith & Millicent where they’d been confronted by a student who asked why they only wanted beings to vote for their mother, rather than vote for everyone. “You’re right--we do have a slant. That being said, we want everyone to vote, no matter who that’s for. When everyone votes, we get a more representative government and that’s always a good thing,” Shenandoah said. “We are who we are and we believe what we believe,” Niall admitted, “but everyone’s voice should be part of the electoral process.” Thus, Young Bakurans for Trieste became Engaged Young Bakurans. They hadn’t been able to shake their affiliation and identification with Fianna Fail, but their events were no longer rallies, but featured thoughtfully curated speakers that debated issues of importance to youth voters.

Though some Unionist-oriented pundits attacked the young Triestes for their pivot, they were unperturbed by the criticism. “We were taught to learn from mistakes and to be better for them,” Shenandoah said. “Niall and I would both rather show our humanity than to persevere in erroneous ways for the sake of a facade of certainty.”

The twins were being regular teenagers tonight, but the ordinary nature of the night only extended so far. What should have been a night of repose was anything but for Declan. He was pacing in their shared study, wearing out the carpet with his peripateticism. The reason for his unrest was the holoprojector with its polling figures.

“35%,” Declan fumed, “35%!”

It was Ayn’s share of the vote if it were held today, according to recent polls. The allegations of financial impropriety had hit Ayn’s image hard. Samson Drave proclamations that that character was integral to the office of Prime Minister and that Bakurans couldn’t trust a PM who was unscrupulous in her personal affairs had been landing. Undecided voters were leerily moving into his camp.

“The man is detestable and they still think he’s better than you!” Declan spat with outrage. “His policies will turn us into the next Corporate Sector. We’ll be more in line with Druckenwell than Coruscant by the time he leaves office. How? How is this happening!”

“You know how,” Ayn said calmly from the desk where she was making a note on a briefing.

Declan swung around, stopping midstride. “I will wring Trixie’s neck the next time I see her.”

“And that will only do further harm,” Ayn pointed out.

“Then she’s banned from the Noble House box at Miners games. Let her sit with the spouses,” Declan declared.

“Trixie’s smart enough to know not to show up. It would call into question the impartiality of her investigation. Making such a pronouncement will only look like retribution.”

“This shouldn’t even be coming down on you!” Declan insisted. “Ronan never managed the money while you were Taoiseach! If anyone’s going to take a fall, it’ll be me. I will throw myself in front of the hoverbus if need be.”

“No one is taking any fall,” Ayn said, her voice suddenly hard as she suddenly looked up. “We will let this investigation take its course and we will be exonerated.”

“At this rate, it’ll be after Drave’s inauguration,” Declan scoffed. “If I offered myself up now, it could save you.”

“No--we’ve spent too much time linking ourselves to each other,” Ayn said. “It wouldn’t solve anything.”

Declan sat down with a sigh and put his head in his hands. “Everything we’ve worked for is going to be lost because of this.”

Ayn left the desk to sit beside him and took his hand in hers. “Darling, we will be vindicated,” she promised.

“After everything we’ve done?” Declan asked, his icy blue eyes looking into her sky blue eyes. “Isn’t the Cosmic Balance punishing us?”

Ayn scoffed. “You sound like an unreformed member of the Religion. The Cosmic Balance has no will of its own.”

“I just don’t see how we’re going to get out of this one,” Declan despaired.

“We shall overcome,” Ayn promised as she rubbed her husband’s back in consolation. “Deep in my heart, I believe we shall overcome.”

---

Atalanta, Bakura

“Well done, Governor. A resounding success.” Such were the words that greeted Samson Drave after he finished another campaign speech. “The part about the Ignoble House of Trieste was a nice touch.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Drave said huskily as his security team walked him through the back corridors to where his transport was waiting. Vynyssa took his hand in hers. Though they usually split up on the campaign trail, tonight they had decided on a joint appearance. After all, they could indulge in such luxuries with the way the polls were looking. “It wrote itself.”

The pair bundled into their speeder and were off for well-deserved rest after another long day of campaigning. Vynyssa still held Samson’s hand and was stroking it slowly.

“A question,” Vynyssa asked gently.

“Anything for you, my love,” Samson said, turning his head to face her.

“Why did you approach Penn?”

“It was the Prime Minister’s own fault,” Drave explained. “Her prosecution of her cousin in Nouvelle Orleans suggested that the Noble House of Trieste was not a monolithic bloc, that there were cracks in their supposed family unity. If she was willing to throw one cousin to the kryat dragons for her own political gain, then there had to be others she had done wrong in the past.”

“Such a principled stand can make enemies,” Vynyssa observed.

“I wonder if principles had anything to do with it. I suspect Ayn Trieste knew about Antrose and his activities for a long time,” Samson guessed. “Now that she was Prime Minister, he may have been judged too great a liability to her ambitions. Even if they had been unified before, her decision to let federal authorities take and try Antrose Trieste would have created fault lines after the fact.”

“But Trixie Penn prosecuted Antrose. Surely she was on Ayn’s side.”

“Anyone who would take part in selling out their own cousin would surely understand that one day it could happen to them,” Drave explained. “Penn knew that. Besides, when the time came for her husband’s contract, she could have accepted the Noble House’s money under the table, likely avoided the expensive off-world taxes that athlete salaries incur, and come to an arrangement with her cousins. Instead she fought them hard for a contract with guarantees. That is the behavior of a being who doesn’t trust her supposedly benevolent taoiseach. It’s what a mercenary would do and they are loyal only to themselves.”

“And what did you have to promise her to get her cooperation?” Vynyssa asked.

“The just reward of any federal attorney devoted to the pursuit of justice: continued service in her post despite the changeover in administration. Then, when things have settled down, a seat on the federal bench.”

“Not the Attorney Generalship?”

“Should Ms. Penn do as she’s told in our new order, perhaps that too,” Drave mused. “Perhaps Trixie Penn will be of great use to us, more than we can possible know. But don’t you worry. I will handle Trixie Penn.”

“I know, Samson,” Vynyssa said, squeezing his hand. “We shall do great things in Bakura thanks to Ms. Penn.”

“Great things and a great many things,” Samson assured her.

 

@AzureAngel2 @DarthUncle @jcgoble3 @Vehn "Oceans rise, empires fall..."

Salis D’aar, Bakura

​

Every network was there, even regional outlets from the other side of the planet. There hadn’t even been this much attention on the Trieste-Drave debate three days earlier. With early voting due to open in two days, no one wanted to miss what could be the defining event of the 292 federal election. They’d rushed to the capital in less than a day in response to two sentences.

Federal Attorney Patrixa Eldred will address the press tomorrow afternoon. Contact the Federal Attorney’s office for press passes.

It could be only one thing: the investigation had been completed. It was entirely possible that warrants for arrest had been issued and served already. The Prime Minister could be negotiating with the Federal Attorney’s office right now for the terms of her surrender (and that might spark a constitutional crisis the likes of which Bakura had not seen since the days of Moliere Cundertol). Anything was possible.

The cameras flashed and tracked Trixie’s every step from the moment she entered the room until she assumed her position behind the podium bearing the Ministry of Justice’s seal. “Good afternoon,” Trixie said. “As you are aware, the Southern District of Salis D’aar has been investigating the financial activities of the Noble House of Trieste, specifically the trust that holds their assets. Due to my own past connection to this trust, I recused myself from this investigation.”

---

One month ago

“Thank you everyone, that will be all,” Trixie said, dismissing the team from her office that had been handed the Noble House investigation. “Conner, a moment please.”

The lead attorney stayed behind as Trixie resumed her seat behind her desk, a veritable redoubt made of sturdy wood. She could probably repel a Mandalorian hit squad behind its resolute buttress. “Yes, Trixie?”

“That bit about me recusing myself? I think we can agree this investigation is too important for that,” Trixie ordered. “You’re going to read me into this in private and I will provide my assistance to guide the investigation, as needed.” It seemed clear Trixie intended that last part to be understood as , “as I see fit.”

“But that--”

“Before you finish that sentence, I’m sure Jezimin would appreciate having a prominent case to cut her teeth on as lead litigator,” Trixie interrupted. “One day I will leave this position and someone with experience on major cases will be in line to succeed me. Someone who can subsume personal scruples to the goal of overall justice.”

“Of course,” Conner replied.

“I’m thinking Tuesdays at 11:00,” Trixie said, her suggestion not much of one. “I’ll have it put in your calendar as a one-on-one sync.”

“Of course, Trixie.”

---

“The central question was whether any of the operations of the ELT syndicate also included the Noble House of Trieste or, more probably, whether the Noble House of Trieste benefited from any activities of ELT. To this end, my office secured subpoenas for the financial records of the Noble House trust, which we went over in great detail as far back as the statute of limitations allows,” Trixie reported. “Given its connection to two of the leading politicians of the planet, we adopted the strictest possible interpretation of the law as our bar, for nothing else befits those who have been entrusted with the public trust.

“After a thorough review of the Noble House trust’s activities, my office has found no impropriety, even when applying the highest standard to their activities.”

---

Two weeks ago

“There’s nothing here, Trixie,” Conner said in exasperation, tossing his datapad onto a floating repulsor couch in disgust. “How could there possibly have been a credible tip about impropriety here? These records look better than my checkbook! We went over everything: the Miners, The Rivers, the Frontier Fund, everything. It’s spotless! They even got out of Whist.”

Trixie’s ears perked up. “Whist? Tell me about Whist.”

“Whist Industries,” Conner said. “I thought we might have something with that because there was a flag in the system. Turns out East Gesco has been watching some irregularities there. Potential embezzlement, share price manipulation, but it happened over a year after the Noble House sold their position.”

“Who controlled Whist during that period?” Trixie asked with interest.

“Same being who owns them now.”

---

“Indeed, I can confidently say that not only is the Noble House of Trieste a blind trust in its truest form, but it practices a standard of corporate citizenship that we could do with more of on Bakura,” Trixie continued. It was glowing praise, the kind that one didn’t usually hear in an announcement that there would be no prosecution of suspected criminal activity.

“However.”

The word caused every journalist to look up, tense with anticipation. It was a word full of incredible promise.

“In the course of our wide ranging investigation, which was designed to ensure that no malfeasance escaped our notice, we discovered that a company that Noble House divested itself of in 286, specifically Whist Industries, demonstrated several irregularities in its accounting methods, executive stock sales, and transactions with other companies. As this office follows investigations wherever they lead, we pursued this trail.

“What we discovered, in conjunction with our colleagues at the Eastern District of Gesco, was a web of financial lies, fraud, and outright crime on a scale that makes the recent syndicate activity in Nouvelle Orleans look like a board game. Specifically, Cookieland. It’s my husband’s favorite.” This seemed to confuse the reporters, but Trixie got back on track without any prompting from them. “We discovered a criminal conspiracy masquerading as high finance. Its nexus is Mountaintop Capital.

“Corporate filings show Samson Drave is the principal, and in fact only, shareholder, of Mountaintop Capital.”

The cacophony of shouted questions from reporters filled the room like a bantha trying to fit into a shoebox. Trixie smiled pleasantly at the sudden chaos. She hadn’t even begun her 25 slide presentation.

---

Four months ago

“I believe Samson Drave will win the Unionist nomination for Prime Minister,” Ayn Trieste told her cousin.

The pair were meeting at the Plaza, the seven-story residence of the Noble House in the capital. Two floors up were the apartments of Trixie and her parents, but this entire floor was deserted as the family had scattered to cities throughout Bakura like Gesco, Redwood Creek, and Prytis and planets across the galaxy like Roon, Druckenwell, and Denon. It was the only place where Ayn could be certain that they would have privacy. They certainly couldn’t risk being seen together at Marian Square--not with what Ayn was planning.

“Ugh,” Trixie groaned. “He is the worst. Literally. He’s like a Mandalorian who failed out of combat training. Full of big talk about how awesome he is but just as likely to accidentally shoot a baby in the face as he is to shoot his own foot off.”

“Unfortunately, I suspect that he will prove all too alluring as an option for disaffected voters,” Ayn predicted, “and while Bakura could withstand four years of a Drave Prime Ministry, we would certainly be better off without it.”

“Speaking of Mandalorians, you have that Haylee Kelt woman on speed dial. I bet she’d do a hit for us,” Trixie suggested with complete sincerity.

“Tempting as it would be, I believe there is a better way to handle the Governor,” Ayn said. “I want you to subtly put it out there in the right circles that you are disaffected with my leadership of the Noble House.”

“Shouldn’t be hard,” Trixie said, sitting back and looking at her nails. The words came a little too easily from her mouth.

“Eventually, Drave will reach out to you.”

“How do you know that?” Trixie asked leerily, her eyes flitting up from her cuticles.

“Because I have taken his measure,” Ayn informed her with complete certainty. “He won’t be able to resist the thought of tearing me down using a member of the Noble House. Because that’s precisely what you’re going to agree to do.”

“I like tearing things down,” Trixie admitted with an impish grin. “Tell me more.”

“Trixie, you are going to perform a magic trick in front of the entire planet,” Ayn explained. “While everyone thinks you’re going to plunge a lightsaber into my chest, you’ll be pointing a Death Star at Samson Drave.” She pushed across a datapad. “And this is all you’ll need to do it.”

Trixie clapped with excitement. “Best. Coup. Ever.”

 

Boom. Trixie Penn, double agent. Didn't see that coming. Incredible bombshell. Very well done.

 

Killer.