Beyond - Legends Annals of the Noble House of Trieste: Volume 14

Title: The Annals of the Noble House of Trieste: Volume 14
Author: Trieste
Timeframe: 313 ABY and beyond
Characters: The members of the Noble House of Trieste, a House of Bakura (all OCs)
Genre: Alternate universe, political drama, family drama, and other things as they arise
Notes: This fanfic is the continuation of Annals of the Noble House of Trieste: Volume 13, which chronicled the events of the Trieste family under the leadership of Ayn Trieste, the twelfth such leader. Volumes 10, 11, and 12 are available here on the boards. A partial story covering volume 9 can be found in The Bluebells & The Edelweiss. TAGs will be provided upon request should you find these scribblings interesting. (Though I will provide initial TAGs to @jcgoble3 and @Vehn as they were on the list in Volume 13.) Your comments are welcome, provided they are good-natured and constructive.

Foreword

In the wake of the Yuuzhan Vong War, Fionn Cormac Trieste, second Taoiseach of the Noble House of Trieste, built in Fianna Fail what would become the political empire of the Trieste. He was the first—and, until his namesake, Fionn Dunross Trieste, rose to the office, the only—prime minister from the Noble House.

His son, Amergin, third Taoiseach of the Noble House, did not fly as high as his father, and yet accomplished everything he desired in life. Amergin was the longest-serving Chancellor of the Exchequer in Bakuran history, serving over a decade in the role.

Shenandoah Trieste, fourteenth Taoiseach of the Noble House, tore all that legacy down.

Blocked from continuing in Fianna Fail by centrist forces in the party, she built Forásach into a planetary political force, going from two senators in 304 to a plurality of 35 in 312. Forásach was the realization of the vision of her parents: a liberal political party unburdened by centrists that could advance bold ideas and proposals. As strong as Ayn and Declan’s hold on power was, the events after Ayn’s death showed how powerful the resistance was on their right.

Unshackled by the centrists, Shenandoah’s first act of power was to abolish the Exchequer and reconstituted it and other departments of fiscal management into a new, powerful Treasury. By also becoming the first Minister of the Treasury—one with leverage on the prime minister and able to chart her own course—Shenandoah put her vision for policy into force more effectively than another appointee would have likely done.

Shenandoah came to power as Taoiseach without the baggage of machinations that had burdened Ayn and Declan, even if at the time their deeds were not public knowledge. Perhaps because of these sordid details, history has sometimes tended toward hagiography when it comes to Shenandoah Trieste: the shining idealist, untainted by scandal, who reshaped the Bakruan political landscape.

But such a view neglects the struggle of Shenandoah Trieste’s time as Taoiseach. She fought against forces of reaction no less intimidating than those arrayed against her parents; threats that were more dangerous than the passage of time makes them seem.

Most of all, placing Shenandoah Trieste in a pantheon of Bakuran history would have us ignore her great failure.

Shenandoah Sabé Trieste was one of the great Taoiseachs of the Noble House. She also nearly destroyed it; not through ineptitude or miscalculation, but through love.

W. Súilleabháin
Editor
Professor of History, University of Bakura, Salis D’aar

 

I look forward to seeing how she nearly destroyed the Noble House. Which I suppose is better than actually destroying it.

 

Here and a willing reader of this story! Take me away!

 

The Noble House of Trieste never formally announced their new Taoiseach. It was, after all, a family matter. But most beings on Bakura heard about it one way or another.

For some, especially the capital crowd, it came in the course of the news of the day.

“Earlier today, the Senate confirmed Shenandoah Trieste as the minister of the newly-created Treasury,” a BBC news anchor informed the viewing public. “Trieste, the leader of Forásach, the largest party in the Senate and governing partner of Prime Minister Meggars, was sworn in at Marian Square shortly after her widely-expected confirmation.”

“I am honored to serve the beings of Bakura in this new capacity, and thankful for the trust Prime Minister Meggars has placed in me to shape the Treasury into a force that will promote the financial wellbeing of our planet and every citizen who lives here,” Shenandoah said in a clip from the swearing-in ceremony.

“Trieste said she has a large agenda,” the anchor continued when the clip ended, “with integrating the formerly disparate financial oversight departments into a unified whole. Trieste also noted that she expects to work with the Senate to implement new financial legislation expected later this year.

“Congratulations came from several corners, including from the new Majority Leader for Forásach, Gaballa Norathak, who said she looks forward to continuing the work started by Trieste during her time in the Senate. Galactic Senator Declan Trieste, Shenandoah’s father, offered his congratulations to his daughter in a statement from Coruscant, saying that he was confident she would be an excellent minister and a great leader for the Noble House of Trieste.”

It was a single line, almost thrown away at the end of a news piece, but enough for those who followed the comings and goings of the Houses of Bakura to know that Shenandoah Trieste was now Taoiseach.

The point was made more explicitly in the reporting on Bakuran business and industry.

“Earlier this week, trust documents were filed in Clara County that have caused a small stir amongst market watchers on Bakura. I’m joined by Riihcall Maekks, who first reported this story for the Gesco City Chronicle. Mr. Maekks, welcome.”

“Thank you, glad to be here,” the financial reporter replied.

“For those new to the story, what was significant about this filing?”

“In brief, the Noble House of Trieste has held most of its assets in a trust that dates back to the Galactic Civil War. It has only ever had one trustee: whoever has been the Taoiseach of the House. Until recently, that was Galactic Senator Declan Trieste. These documents have transferred that trusteeship to his daughter Shenandoah Trieste, shortly before becoming Minister of the Treasury.”

“And that Noble House trust is widely believed to compose significant financial holdings.”

“Yes. The Triestes have kept the extent of their holdings mostly secret. Estimates range from the high hundreds of millions to tens of billions of credits. I’ve always put it in the single digit billions,” Maeeks said, “but that’s just a guess.”

“So Shenandoah Trieste has, in the span of a week, inherited the Noble House estate and now likely controls billions of credits.”

“Yes—but only to a point. For the last 27 years, almost all the Noble House of Trieste trust assets have been a blind trust. Essentially, the trustee doesn’t know how the assets are being managed. Declan and Ayn purposely put the financial management of the Noble House beyond their authority given their public office. They stated it was a conflict of interest to be in policymaking positions that they could potentially benefit from.”

“And is there any indication Shenandoah Trieste has continued this practice?”

“I spoke with representatives for the Minister who confirmed that the Noble House trust remains blind. In fact, I was told that to avoid a conflict of interest, Minister Trieste has not been briefed on the exact disposition of the Noble House trust’s holdings.”

“So Shenandoah Trieste might not even know how rich she is right now?”

“She probably knows figures, but not the sources of her family’s wealth.”

“Who does?”

“Whoever is making decisions about the Noble House holdings. That’s not disclosed in the public filings made in Clara County.”

“Do you or other analysts think this is going to have any impact on Bakura’s financial markets?”

“Likely not. If Shenandoah had taken the assets out of a blind trust, she could have done major restructuring of where those investments are held. Given the suspected size of the Noble House’s positions, that could have had downstream effects, especially if other investors started following suit. But even if she’s changed who’s managing the trust, I doubt we’ll see any major ripples. And if we did, we wouldn’t have a way to attribute it to the Noble House.”

But most Bakurans, and much of the galaxy, learned about Shenandoah’s elevation to Taoiseach in a different way.

“It’s a beautiful day at Bakura Gardens as we get set for the opening kickoff of Elite League Limmie’s 313 season,” Lun Selayen of the BBC Sports announced as the players took their starting positions. “The sun is even shining, which is a good day on Bakura.”

“The stadium is buzzing as expectations for the Miners are high this season,” his broadcast partner Aerax Skytrayn added, “and a large part of that is because of the new Chair of the Miners.”

The feed cut from the field to one of the boxes in the Gardens, showing a smiling Shenandoah in a blue blazer paired with a yellow-gold blouse. She was leaning over to listen to some words from a being next to her.

“Before the start of the season, the Miners announced that Shenandoah Trieste, Minister of the Treasury, is now the Chair and sole shareholder of the team. Fans couldn’t be happier about this.”

“Which is no commentary on her predecessor, Galactic Senator Declan Trieste, who you see to two seats to her left,” Lun said. “It’s because of the so-called Taoiseach’s Blessing.”

A graphic appeared next to the vid of Shenandoah looking down at the field with a heading that echoed Lun’s last two words. Below it was a list.

Kerry Trieste 252: Won Galactic Cup
Falene Trieste 277: Won Galactic Cup
Declan Trieste 287: Won Galactic Cup
Ayn Trieste 289: Lost in Galactic Cup Final
Declan Trieste 299: Won Galactic Cup
Shenandoah Trieste 313: ???

“For over 60 years, all but one time the Miners get a new sole shareholder by virtue of a new Taoiseach, they’ve won the Galactic Cup the following season,” Lun continued. “And the time they didn’t win, they still went to the Final. Bakura’s hoping that trend continues.”

“And with the roster the Miners have brought they’re a top contender to win it all again this season,” Aerax said. “Team captain Alana Kirt has signaled she’s ready to kick off…” The feed returned to the field. “…and the Miners’ 313 season is underway!”

 

Gesco City, Bakura

The offices of the Gawa Corporation had clean, stark lines, but Siobhan Trieste had been in more modern executive suites. Indeed, she worked in one. It was an environment that went to great lengths to tell you that it was part of the future. She suspected that these offices made a different point, subtle though it was. The Gawa Corporation had been around for a while. They were not a meteoric startup. They had been around.

And, most importantly, would be around.

Most beings wouldn’t have processed all this. But Siobhan had grown up in a family that was older than the Gawas. An office like this looked like the strivings of the nouveau riche compared to a place like Trieste Plaza. Though a private residence and not a place of business, the Noble House’s capital residence was a stately edifice that exuded history and substance. Its beauty was power.

Unlike most of her family, Siobhan understood that everything her family did was in service of power.

“Ms. Trieste, this way,” an assistant beckoned.

Siobhan stood and walked the long halls, passing plants displayed like art. Perhaps some of them were the art of some culture. She wouldn’t put that kind of acquisition beyond Yeoh Gawa.

The head of the conglomerate stood as Siobhan entered the office. “Thank you for making the trip,” Gawa said. Siobhan had only crossed the financial district, but they both knew that the symbolism was what mattered. The first time the pair had met, Siobhan had drawn Yeoh to her, even though the meeting had taken place in this building. Siobhan understood that Gawa wouldn’t indulge that dynamic as second time.

“I was pleased to receive the invitation,” Siobhan said as she briefly shook Gawa’s hand, taking a seat in front of her host’s desk. She reclined just a bit in her chair. Not enough to look casual, but enough to give an air of ease. All part of the subtle conversation in body language underpinning the interaction. “Though intrigued by the lack of details about today’s subject.”

Siobhan had a guess and Yeoh knew full well what it was.

“At our first meeting, you said you’d come to me when you could be a…‘worthy partner’ was the term, I believe,” Gawa said, “in the ruination of your extended family. And you were foresightful about the future, as proved by your cousin’s recent electoral victories.”

“To be fair, I hadn’t predicted such a rapid ascent for Shenandoah and Niall,” Siobhan stated.

“Regardless, Fianna Fail has proven ineffectual bulwark against the progressive policies of Declan and his family,” Yeoh continued, “and my family has not gotten to where it is by throwing good money after bad. But something must be done now to prevent Shenandoah from continuing her ascent and solidifying her hold on policy making.”

Siobhan had intended to come to Gawa when she had a plan. But she had worked enough deals to know sometimes you had to take a leap with what you had instead of wait for the right moment.

“I know how to get at the Noble House,” Siobhan stated, “but I need to know if you’re willing to do what it takes.”

“Someone has to stop Forásach. While I accept a partnership between government and business to create conditions and a workforce that makes Bakuran prosperity possible, Shenandoah and her party would make business subservient to government.”

“So this is all about policy? Saving the planet?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as that, but yes, this is about policy,” Yeoh agreed.

“Good, because what I have in mind requires patience. It is the only way to take apart a web like the Noble House,” Siobhan said, looking Yeoh in the eyes. “If you’re here for revenge, for some way someone in my family slighted you, then I’ll find another partner. I have waited too long be lose my opportunity because of a lack of discipline. And as my father learned, when you come for the Noble House, you only come once.”

Gawa said nothing for a few seconds, but held Siobhan’s eyes. Whether she was insulted that Siobhan would think she lacked patience and discipline was unclear. But Siobhan knew the first person in a negotiation lost, so she waited Gawa out until she said, “Tell me about this disciplined plan.”

“The secret of the Noble House’s influence is not its political prominence. That is the flower, not the root,” Siobhan said. “Their power comes from their money. It has enabled Triestes for generations to do supposedly selfless acts. Run for office, serve in the military, start charities, cure diseases, play sports. Be poets, for Force sake. Their lifestyles are supplemented by the earnings of the Noble House assets. All of this gives makes the family a storied class, almost a mythic status in the minds of Bakurans. This is how someone like Shenandoah could build a political behemoth in a decade. She’s trading on all that.

“I want to destroy the fortune of the Noble House and rip them from the leisure class. They’ve grown soft, used to this easy living where they do what they like and get to be heroes, all while someone else makes the credits to make their good deeds possible.

“And I need your money to take this away from them,” Siobhan stated.

Gawa didn’t object—not yet. Instead she asked, “Do you know where the trust is invested?”

“No. Nobody in the Noble House does. Not even Shenandoah since she’s kept the blind trust,” Siobhan said. “But it’s almost certainly being managed by Vesper Lynd.”

“And you know where the Frontier Fund is invested, which is likely where the Noble House money is too.”

“No. All their assets are in street name. But Vesper wouldn’t hand off her family’s money to anyone. That’s too big a risk for her. I think she’s managing it personally—and every trader has a tell,” Siobhan said.

“With enough time and funds to work the market, I think I can figure out her trading pattern. If I do, that will let me strike when she’s extended, in the moment of risk where you’re going to either make or lose a lot of credits. And I can make sure it’s the latter.”

“Vesper Lynd runs one of the largest hedge funds in the sector. She hasn’t made all this money by being careless,” Yeoh said.

“She hasn’t had someone gunning for her before,” Siobhan countered, “and she might have won a Galactic Cup, but she lost a lot more playoff games.”

“Now that I know your strategy, why do I need you to destroy the Noble House now?” Gawa asked.

Siobhan could tell it wasn’t a real challenge. She sat back with an air of confidence, but one that fell short of smug. “Your fortune is in real estate and buy and hold. It’s not built on the market. I know the market and I know how to find the weak spots. It’s why I held Fremwer-Amp when I wanted to meet you.

“You could hire someone with my skills, but they’re not going to share your focus on going after the Noble House. We both know this doesn’t make business sense. Yes, if all goes to plan you’re going to make a lot of credits. But there will be lots of tiny moments that lead up to it that a trader isn’t going to have the patience for. Even if you tell them what you’re going to do and they believe in the cause, at the end of the day they’re still going to be there for a paycheck.

“You need a partner, not an employee. That’s me,” Siobhan said.

Yeoh Gawa thought for a moment. “It’s time we talked about specifics.”

Siobhan smiled.

 

Oooh boy. Can Siobhan pull this off? I have my doubts!

 

This just suddenly got very, very interesting.

 

Before the next post, there's a small activity for readers. Take a look at the Noble House family tree. There's not quite a mystery in there...but there's something in it that I'm curious if anyone notices. Let's just say it could be useful to find before the next post.

 

Hmm. I don't see it. What am I missing?

 

OOC: And here's the answer...

Convada, Bakura

313 brought more than one transition. While that of Taoiseach of the Noble House happened in private, thousands of Bakurans gathered in the square outside the Equitan, the seat of the Religion of the Cosmic Balance, to witness another.

It was Bakura’s largest faith tradition, even if much changed from its initial form. Gone were the Children of the Feather and the Bowl. Gone was the insistence that one’s good fortune caused someone else’s reversal. Its reformation two centuries ago had softened its rougher edges to focus on an individual’s ability to counteract evil and sorrow through their own works.

What drew the faithful to the plaza was not a ceremony or feast. It was anticipation. For the last few days, they had awaited word from the conclave of ardeaspags sequestered inside the Cúigiú Temple. Its beautiful architecture and murals were the backdrop for the election of a hierophant, the leader of the Cosmic Balance faith. The so-called “princes and princesses of the faith” had withdrawn to the space after a final service where they asked for a balanced mind to guide them in their deliberations. They had not been seen since.

With each hour that passed, speculation grew as to who would be the new hierophant. The Bakuran media was an enthusiastic participant in this periodic game of reading the tea leaves. But it was all just guesses. The minds of the ardeaspags were as locked as the doors of the Cúigiú Temple. Records of deliberations were forbidden. Every ardeaspag swore an oath on the Fulcrum that they would keep what happened inside the temple a secret to their dying breath.

On the third day of deliberations, most reporters agreed: the supposed favorites were likely falling by the wayside. Ardeaspag Kovik of Atalanta, seen by most as her predecessor’s protégé, was considered to be the frontrunner going into the conclave. But Ardeaspag Uroon of Arielle was a darling of the liberal wing of the religion. Perhaps, the media suggested, support was consolidating around him the longer the conclave went on.

It was in the midst of these updates that the tall doors to the balcony overlooking Istuvi Square swung open. A murmur of anticipation escaped the lips of those whose eyes had been pinned to the ornate platform. Their reaction caused everyone to focus on it in short order, an expectant buzz running through the crowd. Reporters breathlessly interrupted broadcasts. There were few reasons why the doors would open.

And it was most often for one reason.

The seamair of the Equitan was not an ardeaspag, but they were responsible for the administration of the religious capital. That meant that they became the authority in all internal matters in times of transition—save for the deliberations inside the Cúigiú Temple. Even if that was beyond them, their authority was still present: it was the seamair who locked the ardeaspags inside.

Speaking into a microphone linked to speakers throughout the square, the seamair said, “Dear brethren: It is with great joy that I announce to you we have a new hierophant.”

The crowd roared with anticipation. To be present for the introduction of a new hierophant had been a dream of many. That had inspired their pilgrimage and the patient waiting, which was now to be fulfilled.

“His holiness, Hierophant Pianmhar IX.”

The seamair retreated back into the Equican and the crowd cheered in anticipation of the new hierophant. No one appeared for almost half a minute—

—and then a white-cassocked figure stepped forward into the light and extended his arms out to his sides, as if to accept the adoration of the throngs of believers below him in the square expressed.

“My brethren in the Balance,” Piamhar IX said, “I am sorry I kept you waiting!”

This drew even more cheers of adulation.

“For you have been waiting so patiently! Not just these last three days, but for so many years. We have all been waiting. Even those of us who do not keep the Balance.”

Piamhar XI lowered his arms. His voice pierced those gathered. “Waiting for a better job. Waiting for a vacation. Waiting for a partner. Waiting for health. Waiting for an end to suffering. Waiting for life. Waiting for justice. Waiting for peace. Waiting for purpose. Waiting for truth.

“But all these things, which have weighed so heavily upon us, are not what we have been waiting for. Not really. No, it is something much more, my brethren.

“You have felt it too. That try as we might, we cannot find the Cosmic Balance. Everything keeps shifting beneath us. When we think we have found balance, things change again.

“Brethren, for all our seeking, for all our striving, we are no closer to finding true Balance than we ever were.

“And I am here to tell you…we are going to stop waiting and we are going to start doing.”

The crowd cheered and Piamhar IX smiled.

“And I will show you the way, for I will walk it with you. And we will reach the Balance together. So pray for me, my brethren, as I shall pray for you.”

The camera captured images of ecstatic believers, some moved to tears by the words of the hierophant. And these people were so caught up in this moment of joy and transcendent faith that it was left to the reporters, who numbered among them believers (but believers who still had to do their jobs), to ask the question that most beings were asking or would soon enough.

Who was Piamhar IX?

The deepest levels of that question would be plumbed over the days to come and few answers would be found. But for the moment the reporters scrambled through the images of the ardeaspags, searching for one that resembled the being who had just addressed them. For this was not the frontrunner. This was not even an ardeaspag they had considered as a possible hierophant.

Soon they discovered—and informed Bakura and the galaxy—that before assuming his hierophantical name, Piamhar IX had been the ardeaspag of Kilborne, Alec Trieste.

 

This will be very interesting indeed! What a great way to delve into a separate part of Bakura that I am barely familiar with!

 

A writer's studio moment for you: years ago I looked at the Noble House family tree and realized, "Huh...I gave myself this character, Alec Trieste, but I've never done anything with him." In fact, across every Noble House post ever, Alec is only mentioned 12 times...including this week's post. Compare to his sister, Elfie Ralter, who's mentioned 78 times.

I liked having this blank slate in the almost middle of the family tree, hanging out there in plain sight...but that begat the question of, "Well, should I do something with him?" For a long time I didn't...but then I got an idea. Part of that idea was, "Well, why would a Trieste disappear from the Noble House scene? What would be a reason that someone would withdraw from society?"

If you look at Earth's history, a major reason someone withdraws from society is to tend to the spiritual world. And Bakura has, canonically, a rich spiritual tradition, even though I haven't focused on it. (When I have, it's been to soften the edges of an admittedly harsh system.) It fit together well.

Was this post influenced by me watching Dune, Part Two last weekend? No--all the big ideas were there before that. (I'll admit I read Dune 20 years ago, so maybe it was an influence as a whole, but my memories of it are faded.) Was this post influenced by me watching Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, the Trek show with the most spiritual influence, last year? No--but it did help me think about how to portray religion in science fiction. Was this post influenced by watching The Young Pope several years ago? Well...you'll just have to see.

 

Marian Square, Salis D’aar, Bakura

“Judicial appointments are the prerogative of the prime minister,” Meggars stated. He was not happy that Majority Leader Gaballa Norathak had informed Deputy Prime Minister Travers in their weekly consultation that Forásach expected to have a say in the 313 Supreme Court vacancy.

Established by constitutional amendment almost two decades earlier, justices now sat for a term of 18 years. 313 brought the first full term expiration since the amendment went into effect.

“And we need both Forásach and Fianna Fail votes to confirm a new justice,” Norathak replied. “Given the number of senators we bring to the table, it is reasonable that Forásach have a considerable say in this process.”

“Run a candidate for prime minister if you want to have a say in the process,” Meggars snapped.

“We have a compromise in mind,” Shenandoah said. Even though she had no official role in the matter as Treasury Minister, everyone in the capital knew she still held considerable influence in Forásach’s dealings in the Senate.

“I’d like to hear it,” Travers said from her seat next to Meggars.

“In recognition of the electorate’s support for Forásach, as represented by the size of our caucus,” Norathak began, “we propose that this year’s nominee be one of our choosing. In exchange, we pledge our support for whomever you propose in 315.”

“You’re asking for a large amount of trust that you hold up your end of the bargain when the time comes,” Meggars replied, though his tone was more civil than his earlier comments.

“This entire coalition is based on trust,” Norathak countered. “There is a benefit to you. A nominee in 315 will be closer to the election. Your pick will be more on voters’ minds than our pick will be. It could energize your base.”

“You must have a real firecracker of a pick you want to have everyone forget by then,” Meggars reasoned. “Did you save Harle Quinn from being attorney general so she could be on the Supreme Court?”

“Harle is not an attorney. Forásach would never suggest someone so unqualified for a seat on the Surpreme Court,” Shenandoah said. “In fact, experience was one of the most important factors. A jurist with decades of experience, and—” Here she paused. “—one nominated to the bench by several Fianna Fail prime ministers, who has cleared the Senate with overwhelming support.”

“Of course,” Travers said. She had wondered if this was coming.

“We propose you renominate Chief Justice Eldred for another term on the Court,” Shenandoah finished.

“So having your aunt on the Supreme Court is worth so much to you that you’d give us a free hand with the other pick?” Meggars said, leaning back on the sofa and crossing his arms. His body language was hostile, but everyone in the room sensed interest lay beneath it.

“Our party admires the steady voice for liberal ideas and values that Chief Justice Eldred has provided. We believe that a strong, experienced chief justice is good for Bakura,” Norathak replied.

“There are more progressive justices you could have chosen,” Travers said, looking at Shenandoah.

She gave a subtle shrug in response. “We feel that a renomination of the chief justice is appropriate under the coalition, as part of the deal we’ve outlined.”

“Done,” Meggars said, standing. “And if you don’t honor your deal in two years’ time, there will be Korriban to pay.”

“As there should be,” Norathak said, rising along with the others. She shook hands with Meggars and Travers.

The majority leader and deputy prime minister left together, leaving Shenandoah and Meggars alone for a minute before his next meeting.

“Is your aunt going to owe you one of those famous Noble House favors for this one?” he asked, a momentary glint passing through one eye.

“I found this service to be part of my responsibilities to my family and my dedication to the betterment of Bakura,” Shenandoah replied casually.

“I’m sure you did,” Meggars replied. “I’m quite sure.”

---

1107 Sixth Avenue, Salis D’aar, Bakura

“How much did it cost you?” Regan Eldred asked her niece at the dinner table that night.

After becoming Taoiseach, Shenandoah had chosen to move into the Noble House family residence. Though most of the family had scattered elsewhere, the Bakuran Eldreds had been its caretakers for some time. With seven floors to spread out across, they were never in each other’s way. Shenandoah had taken the top floor while Regan and Atticus enjoyed the third and the Penns lived on the fourth.

“Nothing I wasn’t prepared to give,” Shenandoah replied.

“While I appreciate you arranging it, especially as—let’s be honest—I maneuvered your mother into the chief justice nomination all those years ago, I will uphold an independent judiciary,” Regan stated.

“As independent as four floors away can be,” Atticus quipped. He never hesitated to get in a loving dig (based in truth as it might be) at his wife, especially in the presence of family. He’d weathered enough years in the Noble House to know when to pick his moments—and he invariably did so with great skill.

“As it should be and as I expect,” Shenandoah agreed. “The party agreed that you had a record we supported. And, beyond that, it looks good for us to support a judicial nominee with a long track record. Besides, it’s Werragon whose term comes up in 315. He’s trended more to the center since his appointment. Anyone Meggars wants for that seat will at least keep the court where it is, maybe even move it to the left.”

“He’s been reliable enough when I’ve needed to build support around an opinion,” Regan said.

“Whereas had you been replaced with someone more to the center, it could set up a shift to the right that could come into play if the Unionists get the prime ministry back next cycle and replace two of my mom’s appointees with conservatives,” Shenandoah finished.

“It is a high degree of exposure,” Regan agreed.

“But 316 is a long ways away. I’ll content myself with damage limitation,” Shenandoah said.

Regan raised her glass. “And I’ll drink to that.”

 

Shenandoah is definitely playing the long game here.

 

​

Hapes

Transitions came in many forms, and one was afoot for the House of Trieste. The omission of Noble was an insistence on its members’ part. They might be related, but they were decidedly distinct. It did not do for Hapan royalty to seem too linked to powers outside the Consortium. That was the kind of thing that could inspire coups, or at least provide the pretense for one.

But sometimes caution had to be thrown to the wind. Some moments mattered enough that Sierra Chume would invite her family to the Consortium, potential consequences be damned.

So it was that Shenandoah entered one of the capital’s gorgeous cathedrals. She led a party as esteemed as any statedelegation. It included Niall, Niamh, three-year-old Móirín, and Declan. Kerry, the other living taoiseach, was there too. The Eldreds, Penns, and Ypres-Eldreds filled an entire pew. Nessarose and her daughter Elfie, son-in-law Jax, and champion podracer grandson Lex shared a row with May and Alynn Hull.MM The Triestes of Nouvelle Orleans, Henrietta, Elyse, Siobhan, Aloric, and Elon, were there. The Lynds had come too, for Vienna Harlow was in a featured role today. Verity and Eleanor Vehn, who were both at once the closest Vehns to the Triestes and the furthest away, had left the Federation for this.

And even Fiona, dignified in her dark blue Defense Fleet uniform, her admiral stars polished to shine like a star, had come. There were very few moments where the presence of a queen mother’s mother was accepted. Even though she had never been queen mother, Fiona had been forced to keep her distance from her daughter since her ascendance to the highest Hapan political circles. The presence of a queen mother’s mother was always tricky—and often deadly—in the Consortium.

But Fiona Westenra had faced down traitors and pirates. No one was going to keep her from being in the front pew for this.

At any other gathering, the Noble House’s large presence would have been the story. But they were joined by heads of state, senators, moffs, corporate executives, and nobles. Many of the most prominent figures in the galaxy had come, including Queen Carley Heraat of the Centrality.

The other great monarch of the galaxy was in the first pew in the aisle seat. Sierra Chume rarely looked so radiant as she did this day in her light blue gown, the matching gossamer veil pinned in place so lightly it seemed to float before her. The princes Trellam and Ivgenni were the picture of martial polish in their uniforms (including an embarrassing, if expected, amount of ribbons and cords). A quite pregnant Princess Prairie Hakewell literally rounded out the royal family’s presence.

At a gentle swelling of music, everyone stood and turned around as well as their haute couture allowed when pressed together. Chume’da Corrine Westenra Iseult Trieste glowed as she walked down the aisle of the cathedral under the gaze of the Consortium’s nobility.

As always, in the Consortium, women came first–and today none came before the chume’da. She led the procession of bridesmaids down the aisle, resplendent in a gown that was the stuff of such dreams that it was easy to not think about what its price could have bought an ordinary family.

She was trailed by Vienna Harlow, her closest friend and maid of honor, who carried the end of the dress’s long train. Only for Corinne would Vienna have agreed to be part of such a spectacle. She’d rather have been in her lab on Bakura, advancing organ replacement therapies. But for the cousin she loved most in the galaxy, she had not hesitated to agree to lead no less than a dozen bridesmaids down the aisle.

When Vienna finished draping the train across the steps of the transept just so, she took her place to Corinne’s right, the rest of the bridal party arrayed behind her in subtle echelon. As they turned their eyes to the back of the cathedral, so did the congregation once more.

Thirteen groomsbeings processed down the aisle. They were the finest specimens the Consortium had to offer, which was a factor of them mostly being chosen from the noble families most loyal to the crown. Only the best woman, the Shistavanen Kama Sherzade, was not. But her presence had been nonnegotiable.

For Lucien Morningstar had insisted that his oldest friend (if also his employee) was the only being he would give the honor of personally attending him on his wedding day. He could care less how many nobles they weighed the groom’s party down with for political reasons. Kama was going to be his best woman or there would be no wedding. (An empty threat, but still effective.)

And when Lucien walked down the long aisle, he glowed as much as the bride. Some attendees shed a few quiet tears at the removal of this fine specimen from the Hapan marriage market–even if he never would have entered it without the chume’da. Such was the figure he cut in tailored clothes that might well have cost as much as Corrine’s dress.

When he reached the front of the cathedral and the edge of the steps, he bent his knee until it touched the marble floor, a prelude to the vow he would take to honor and obey his wife and future queen mother.

Sierra Chume smiled, for the marriage of her only daughter made the House of Trieste more secure than it had been. Corrine had taken her time, but they were here nonetheless.

In the opposite pew, Darriah Morningstar had to remind herself to smile periodically. It was all she could do at this point.

 

A day the chume'da will remember forever... and hopefully not regret later.

 

Gesco City, Bakura

Siobhan Trieste was, not for the first time since her meeting with Yeoh Gawa, wondering how she was going to pull this off.

She’d projected confidence because Gawa would have found someone else who could solve her Noble House problem if Siobhan hadn’t had a plan. And while the plan was the plan, the details were still thin.

That’s what had Siobhan bouncing a hand-sized ball off her office wall. She threw it at the wall so it came just short, bouncing off the floor and up to the wall. With the right trajectory, it rocketed off the wall back to her hand. If she was in a groove–as she was now–she only had to move her hand slightly to catch the ball and start the cycle over.

Did this annoy her neighbor? More than likely. But Arina was a jerk and didn’t carry as large a trading book as Siobhan, so she could live with it. Besides, Arina wasn’t trying to bring down one of Bakura’s largest family fortunes.

The problem Siobhan kept coming back to was knowing where the Noble House credits were invested. What Siobhan had told Gawa about using Vesper’s trading signature was not as simple as it sounded. If she could find it, then everything would be smooth sailing. But the finding was the hard thing–especially if Vesper’s main personal trading was, as Siobhan expected, on the Noble House accounts and not much else.

The simplest way of finding that out would be to get on the inside. She could have the access if she played nice with Vesper, make it seem like she wanted to learn the family business. It would be a natural request. Her grandfather had done that for the Noble House in his time.

But the consequence would be that when everything collapsed, she’d be the first suspect. And Siobhan knew what kind of blowback her family would rain down on her. Even without their fortune, the Noble House would have enough influence to make ruining Siobhan the last thing they’d do. Connected attorneys who doubtless had favors stashed away. Offworld heads of state whose affairs were insulated from Bakuran finances. Former Marines who knew how to use blasters and sniper rifles.

“And the frakking hierophant,” Siobhan muttered as the ball returned to her hand. Alec–now Piamhar IX (Siobhan was less impressed by his change in estate having heard her mother’s stories of going out drinking with Alec when he’d still been in the seminary)–was almost a head of state himself. Even after the Neo-Sith devastation, the Religion had significant resources, symbolized by the opulence of Convada. All for the glory of the Balance, of course. “Like the Balance cares if a candelabra is made of solid aurodium.”

No, Siobhan needed to get away from this cleanly. In fact, she wanted Gawa to get all the credit. That was part of why she wanted this partnership. Her own protection.

So going inside wasn’t an option. Every other avenue was lightyears harder.

Developing a source inside the Frontier Fund wasn’t realistic. Even if the assets weren’t in the blind trust, Vesper would share the portfolio with a select few.

There was always sussing it out through board seats. The Noble House holdings were probably large stakes, ones that entitled them to directorships. If Vesper used the same beings on those boards–a common practice–that might create a picture of where the credits were. Not impossible, but not easy and lots of room for error. Siobhan didn’t work in investments that large in her work. She didn’t know the players to know how exclusively they might work with Vesper. It would take a lot of research and only bring a medium level of certainty. It was too risky to pin everything on.

She could always use some of Gawa’s money to get a large enough stake in a corporation and then ask Vesper for some candidates to fill the seat. But would Vesper’s recommendations be the ones she used for Noble House boards? And would Gawa authorize that much exposure? The Bakuran financial sector didn’t see such large moves often.

Siobhan was about to throw the ball, but paused with her arm pulled back. You didn’t, did you?

She put the ball on her desk. Standing, she poked her head around the corner of her door to see if Arina was in. “Arina, who on the BEX looking to get a buy-and-hold owner these days?” Siobhan asked. The Bakuran stock exchange often went by the three-letter acronym, especially in finance circles.

“85% of the BEX,” Arina remarked. It didn’t take a psychologist to catch the annoyance in her manner. Siobhan didn’t care.

“I don’t mean small-scale. I mean major stakes,” Siobhan said.

“There are a few companies.” Despite herself, Arina was interested. “You have someone you’re shopping for?”

“Not exactly. But I’ve got an idea for a consortium play and I need to get some big options. I’ll cut you in,” Siobhan added, as if an afterthought. It was not.

“Let me make some calls,” Arina said.

Siobhan went back to her office so Arina didn’t her smiling. There was no tool so effective as a small fish who thought it had an opportunity to get twice its size and get everything they were due. But just desserts were going to be served by Siobhan. Arina wasn’t on her list.

 

Is it wrong of me to want Siobhan to be successful? Can she do what others before her have failed?

 

I wonder if Siobhan's work is relevant to this line from the foreword?

 

Convada, Bakura

Officially, Convada was part of Limvell County. But only officially.

By longstanding agreement with the county, the seat of the Religion of the Cosmic Balance was free from civil interference in all but the gravest matters. The Religion had their own security to safeguard treasures amassed over the centuries, though in practice their authority extended to enforcing laws, some of the Religion’s making. They also controlled entry to the grounds surrounding Cúigiú Temple. The finances of the Religion were run through a private bank that, as a county-chartered bank, didn’t have to follow federal rules.

Hierophant Piamhar IX didn’t just set the spiritual direction for millions of beings. He essentially ruled a city, albeit a small one. However, any sense of smallness disappeared when walking down its marble halls, its walls adorned with tapestries and art that were the envy of Bakura’s finest galleries and museums.

His office was so large that it was more like a receiving room. The West Office of Marian Square would fit inside with enough space for another comfortable room besides. Its sparse furnishings only underscored its size and grandeur.

It was tradition for a new hierophant to immerse themselves in meetings to understand the vastness of their responsibilities. The administrators of the Religion generally said it took a year for a hierophant to understand the breadth and complexity of Convada’s affairs.

That was why everyone watched the door to the hierophant’s office with an overwhelming curiosity. Piamhar IX would enter in the morning…and that would be it. There were no streams of administrators coming and going for meetings. A signal would come from the office, summoning an assistant. A few minutes later it would slide open again and the assistant would be disgorged with a look of wonder, if perhaps mixed with confusion.

“He wants the financial records.”

“Which ones?”

“All of them, apparently.”

Or: “He wants the last ten years of correspondence with the deoise of Nouvelle Orleans.”

“Who at the deoise?”

“Anyone who’s corresponded with the office of the hierophant.”

These brief, terse commands were fulfilled with all haste and a few days would pass with nothing. Then, another request would come and set the staff scurrying again.

The news quickly made it to the ardeaspags across the planet. They had known that their colleague, so recently one of them, kept to himself. But this? Unexpected, at best; unfathomable, at worst. Was Piamhar IX hiding? Had they made an error in selecting him as hierophant? Was he not capable of carrying the weight of the hierophancy.

The answer came soon enough. An assistant was summoned in the usual way. But the request was different this time.

Sitting behind a desk clean of terminals, flimsi, or datapads, the hierophant stated: “It’s time I address the ardeaspags.”

 

Hapes Consortium space

Fiona Westenra had so few opportunities to see her family. Even before Sierra had come into the line of succession for the Hapan throne, Fiona had accepted that her daughter needed to fly beyond Bakura. But when Sierra’s mother-in-law had been put on the throne after the assassination of her sister’s family, making Sierra chume’da, that distance became all the greater. Fiona had mourned the lightyears between them, privately, as she dealt with all her emotions, all while knowing this was the way of the galaxy.

So when she arrived on Hapes for Corrine’s wedding, Fiona insisted on an extended stay. Even if Corrine and Lucien whisked themselves away for a chume’doro-approved honeymoon–the location of which was something close to a state secret–Fiona was happy to spend time with Sierra, Trellam, Ivgenni, and Prairie. Even if it had to be done out of sight at royal retreats, Fiona would take it.

But vacations end and Fiona’s Hapan sojourn was no exception. She was returning to Bakura on a commercial flight. Use of a royal shuttle would be a pretext for inconvenient discussions at court. Fiona was fine with it. She had plenty of memories to dwell on during the journey.

At least until the two blaster bolts shrieked through the air.

“Everyone stay where you are!”

Fiona, who had been reclining with her eyes closed, sat up, her senses sharp. She hadn’t been in combat for over 40 years, but her old instincts kicked in as she snapped her head around the cabin as other beings’ voices rose in alarm.

Two Human males held blasters pointed at the passengers. Another two used the cover provided to move towards the ship’s cockpit. They were too far away for Fiona to take a run at them. Her decision to stay put was confirmed when one of the gunmen shot another blaster bolt into the ceiling of the cabin to forestall any thoughts of heroism. This briefly excited the passengers before they settled into nervous submission.

Fiona’s internal clock told her that it only took two minutes for one of the Humans to return to the cabin and whisper in his coconspirator’s ears.

“We have disabled the droid pilot and taken control of this ship,” the Human who’d spoken earlier said, his words loud in the hushed cabin. “We have no plans to harm any of you. We have taken this ship as a political act to demand equal rights, in law and in practice, for all males in the Consortium. We will be transmitting our demands to the authorities soon. When they have been met, we will release you without harm.

“But if you attempt to take action against us, know that our blasters are set to lethal force. And we will not hesitate to use them. It is time for the voices of males to be heard in the Consortium and we will not be silenced now.”

Fiona sat back and closed her eyes. “You’ve got to be frakking kidding me,” she muttered.

 

The fine line between protest and terrorism. Or maybe that's a fuzzy line.

 

Hapes Consortium space

The mood on the starship was tense. The passengers were staring down the barrels of blasters. The hijackers were on alert for anyone trying to be a hero. Everyone was keyed up in one way or another.

That meant every head snapped around when someone began to moan.

“Knock that off!” one of the hijackers called.

“There’s an old being who’s in pain!” someone called out.

“Tell them to be quiet,” the hijacker replied.

“I think she could be in real trouble,” another passenger added.

“I’m a doctor,” another passenger, several rows back from where the cries of pain were coming from, volunteered.

“Stay there!” the hijacker said. “Nobody move.”

“You’re just going to let her die?” someone protested.

“We didn’t say that.” He nodded to his accomplice. “Go check it out.”

The first hijacker nodded and moved down the aisle to the being in distress. The Human was pushed back in her chair, clutching her chest.

“What’s–”

Before he could finish, Fiona’s hands shot out to grab his head and slam it into the top of the seat in front of him. He dropped his blaster as he crumpled and Fiona bent to grab it. She came out of her seat and took aim at one of the hijackers–only to have another passenger tackle him. She spun to look for the third hijacker in the cabin, in just enough time to watch a blaster bolt miss her head by centimeters. The cabin screamed and everyone ducked as best as they could in their seats. Fiona dropped into a crouch in the aisle and snapped off a blaster bolt. It took the hijacker in the chest. She hadn’t taken the time to switch the blaster from lethal to stun.

She looked for what had happened with the other hijacker and saw the passenger rising, a blaster in her hand. That answered that.

“Status?” Fiona asked.

“Dead,” the passenger said. She pulled out identification. “Chume’doro. Everyone stay where you are.”

“One second,” Fiona said. The 93-year-old flipped the blaster to stun and hit its original possessor with it to take no chances. “Next time, don’t underestimate the Bakuran healthcare system.” She looked back at the chume’doro officer in the other aisle. “Thought one of you might be here. I took a calculated risk.”

The chume’doro gave a nod and then looked to the other passengers, who had watched everything with a mixture of awe and fear. “We are taking this ship back. We need all of you to take cover where you are–except all of you.” This was to the beings sitting in the front row of the cabin. “Move to empty seats in further back. We’re going to storm the cockpit and don’t want any of you in the line of return fire.” The passengers needed no further prompting to move. Fiona and the chume’doro let them pass before moving forward, meeting at the start of the short passageway to the cockpit.

“Too tight for stun circles,” the chume’doro said as they each took cover on one side of the opening.

Fiona reset the blaster to lethal force. “You know how much reinforcement there is on that?” She nodded to the cockpit door.

“Just a guess. But I think we’ll need a few blaster bolts in the door near the jamb. That should activate the safety releases. I want you to take them. No offense, but I think I’m the better shot here and we’ll need that for the one inside,” she replied.

“None taken,” Fiona confirmed. She was certain someone on the Hapan royal guard had vastly more range time than she did–and probably better scores than Fiona had notched when she was active duty. “Before we get the thrusters burning, you have a name?”

“Tashkenya,” she replied. “On my mark, admiral.”

The chume’doro held up three fingers and start silently counting down. When her hand became a fist, Fiona let screech three blaster bolts in as tight a pattern as she could get them. The door slid open in uneven fits and judders, which gave the last remaining hijacker a good look at Fiona half in the opening to the corridor. She pulled back and his blaster bolts missed her, going instead into the ceiling of the starship cabin and generating new cries of terror from the passengers. Clearly the pilot had figured out someone was attempting to retake the ship.

But he hadn’t prepared for a multipronged resistance. Tashkenya whipped around the opposite side and took two shots.

“Clear,” Tashkenya called. Fiona looked around the corner and saw the hijacker slumped sideways, hanging over the side of the pilot’s seat.

Before she could make a comment, the starship jerked and shuddered. Had Fiona not been braced against the bulkhead, she would have been thrown clear into the cockpit. The recoil almost sent her sprawling back into one of the empty front row seats.

Tashkenya was back on alert, blaster pointed to the ceiling and at the ready for movement. “We need to clear the rest of the ship.”

“Hold on,” Fiona said, finding her footing. She passed down the short hallway to the cockpit and looked inside. What she saw confirmed her suspicions.

At least one blaster bolts had scorched a flight panel to the point of interoperability. She looked out transparisteel window to find they’d dropped out of hyperspace. The sudden blaring of alarms made it clear that was not a good thing.

 

Well, out of the frying pan and into the fire.

I didn't expect Fiona to sit back and be a victim. Happy to see I estimated her correctly.

 

Convada, Bakura

It was tradition that a new hierophant address the ardeaspags. It usually happened a day or two after the election before they scattered across Bakura, not two months later when they had to make a return journey. The elders of the Religion had a feeling that this speech would not contain the usual boilerplate pleasantries.

The question that occupied them was what direction Piamhar IX would go. Were the pressures of the office too much? Some hierophants had only lasted under a year, crushed by the responsibility, and resigned the post, triggering a new election. Or had the hierophant been laboring on a major announcement? A couple even lightheartedly joked that it was all a power play on the part of a being unprepared for his rapid rise in station.

By tradition, the assembly took place in Cúigiú Temple. That, at least, was unchanged. The ardeaspags filled the front rows of the ornate gathering space, murmuring among themselves as they waited for the hierophant’s arrival.

Footsteps echoed through the vaulted ceilings and arches, silencing the conversation immediately. The ardeaspags turned to see Piamhar IX striding down the central aisle of the temple, resplendent in the full regalia of his office: vestments with aurodium threads, the lustrous seal of office on his chest, and a shining, celestial crown balanced precisely upon his head, which looked forward with steady determination. He ascended the steps that led to the altar of the temple and settled himself into the throne brought for the occasion.

“My brothers and sisters,” Piamhar IX began, his voice deep and stately, “thank you for returning to Convada. I thought it best to have something worth your time rather than the platitudes so many of us have sat through on previous occasions.

“I have spent these first months of my hierophancy reviewing the state of the Religion. What I found confirmed the epiphany I experienced upon my elevation to this exalted role.

“The galaxy has lost its way. And it is our role to provide the firm, guiding hand required to restore the balance that so many so desperately need,” Piamhar IX declared.

“My hierophancy will be dedicated to this spiritual renewal, beginning with the faithful. The full energy and resources of the Religion shall be put entirely to this purpose. It will permeate every level.

“But organizational solidarity is not the only way we shall give beings the certainty that they long for. I shall also provide correction to the spiritual drift that has infested the Religion. This–” Piamhar IX raised one finger from the armrest of the throne without lifting the rest of his hand. “–is the greatest task that has been set for me by the Balance. Make no mistake: we have lost the center. But know that we shall find it.

“Which brings me to why I have brought you all here again. This work requires those most suited for it. Accordingly, the curia itself must be rebalanced.”

To this point, the ardeaspags had listened in stillness. Now the barest shift passed through them.

“Ardeaspag Uroon.”

The senior cleric locked eyes with the hierophant. She had been one of the top contenders for the hierophancy in the last conclave. Piamhar IX lifted one hand, turning his palm up and lifted it three times to indicate the ardeaspag should rise.

“Your service as Prelate for the Propagation of the Faith is now over,” Piamhar IX informed her. “You shall return to duties at the diocesan level.”

Uroon nodded her head once and went to sit.

“Though…”

She stopped, knees bent.

“Returning you to Nouvelle Orleans would be a waste of your prodigious talents,” Piamhar IX continued. “Balance would be achieved by giving you a different assignment, one suited to your talents. No, I think that Tekitan, Arcterra, is a better fit for you.”

“Tekitan?” Uroon spoke hesitantly. She didn’t even know where that was.

“I’m told it’s quite beautiful. Cold, but beautiful. I would dress warmly,” Piamhar IX advised.

Uroon paused for a moment, absorbing what amounted to exile from the circles of power of the Religion, before resuming her seat.

“I shall announce further changes to place the curia in balance,” Piamhar IX promised. “But for now, I invite you to renew your vows of obedience…in the traditional way.”

And so the ardeaspags dutifully left the pews and came, one by one, to kneel at the bottom of steps to swear their fealty to the vicar of the Balance of the galaxy. Had they not bowed their heads, they would have seen the barest hint of a smile on Piamhar IX’s face with each obeisance.