Inauguration

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Bothawui
The District of Drev'starn



The armored limousine speeder moved along in a slow procession down the Boulevard of Liberation, anchoring the center of the line. Ahead and behind were similar transports with dignitaries, themselves flanked by Senatorial Guard on the runners. The crowd along either side of the boulevard was large, but not up to expectations. The rain, it seemed, had seen to that. Grey skies above kept a sustained light shower over the city, prompting those on the street to either huddle beneath shared umbrellas, find a convenient awning, or take the elements as they were in stoic misery.

Taataani's bright red dress seemed out of place, a casualty of suddenly fickle weather. But the die was cast, and there was nothing gained in fretting the wardrobe. Instead, the First Minister Elect spent the last few minutes of the approach to the Capitol poring over a datapad. Eyeglasses that her vanity eschewed but reality demanded perched at the bridge of her broad nose as she thumbed through paragraph after paragraph of her speech. Even at this late moment, she was adding lines here, removing word choice there. It was close to being as she liked, but not there yet. The Senator from Keppaa Brens took a hurried drink from a bottle of nutritive supplement, ignoring its bland and chalky flavor. She'd been too full of nervous energy to dare attempt eating breakfast, but now it was nearing midday, and she needed something in her stomach to sustain her through a day that promised to be long on activity, with little time to find proper food.

The sounds of engines filled the air above, and for a brief moment the First Minister Elect turned her attention away from her speech to see a formation of X-wings streak above, leaving behind colorful decorative contrails of red and white smoke that lingered for a few minutes before being subsumed by the rainclouds. The brief showings of martial pomp helped to instill the right sort of gravity, and for a moment Taataani was at rest, considering the whole of the task before her. It struck her then that most people only learned of their life's defining moment after it passed them by. She was very likely driving up to slowly meet hers by motorcade. It created a strange feeling of awe, elation, terror, solemnity, and resolve, somehow all rolled into one single grandly-ambivalent experience. Taataani took her eyes away from the sky above, focusing on the people that slowly passed by. Though they couldn't see her through the tint of the windscreens, she could certainly see them. Young and old, rich and poor, Human and Bith and Iridonian and Twi'lek and Cizeri. A crush of existences united seemingly only in difference.

"Madam Senator, it's time."

The procession at last made the expected bank to the left, reaching the end of the Boulevard of Liberation. In the enormous cul-de-sac dominated by a blue marble starbird fountain, the train of speeders came to a stop, ensuring that the limousine at the center of the line had a direct path ahead to the climbing steps to the Capitol. Beneath the austere columns of the Senate House, Taataani could already see Salem Ave waiting on a dais, just beyond the reach of rain.

The door opened.

[Salem Ave]

Sheltered beneath the Senate House, Salem Ave looked down on the now stationary motorcade with a characteristically neutral expression. The sight of Senator Meorrrei emerging from her speeder would soon be met with applause from the crowds clustered around the base of the Senate House, cheers and whoops in celebration of change. The former Senator of Onderon did not move, did not gesture to the throng of onlookers. Though there were eyes on him, Salem had no desire to command their attention. He had his part to play, of course, but this moment was not his. His white eyes tracked Taataani’s progress towards the summit of the Senate steps and only when she reached the top did he step forward, leaving behind the pair of Senatorial Guards and Hapan Royal Guards, to meet her with a tight-lipped smile. In contrast, or perhaps in compliment, to Taataani’s dazzling red attire, Ave wore a Hapan royal blue greatcoat over a tailored suit.

“Ja irra korra'nai, Madam Senator.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani returned a polite, affectionate greeting, delivering air kisses to each side of her predecessor's face.

"To jyou asss well, Arr Ave."

It should have felt disarming to address Salem Ave as anything other than Senator, but even without wearing that honorific, he still maintained the same formidable presence. It was a part of the great mystery. What undertaking could Salem Ave be tending to that wouldn't be beneath his station, now that he was stepping aside from one of the most prestigious postings?

It was then that the heavy doors of the Capitol opened, revealing none other than the Chief of State of the Alliance, Mon Razien, who would be presiding over the swearing in. Taataani glanced from the august Matriarch and back to Salem. Perhaps there was still one more rung on his ladder.

A military band assembled on the Capitol lawn began playing the Anthem of the Alliance, and any notion of interrupting it with small talk quickly ebbed away. Again, Taataani was left to absorb the moment, feeling strangely both within and beyond herself at once. It was a strange sort of moment. After a brassy crescendo and a staccato finish, the anthem concluded. Mon Razien offered her polite greetings to both Salem and to Taataani before taking the dais.


"Good morning, people of Drev'starn, of Bothawui, and my fellow citizens of the Alliance of Free Planets."

Mon Razien wore a fleureline weave and a shraa silk mantle, as was the Chandrilan custom. Tall and almost willowy, the Chief of State had a gentle nobility to her that made her an excellent orator, and she put her talent to work.

"We are gathered here to execute a solemn task, and I am charged to administer the sacred duty of my office as Chief of State, to inaugurate a First Minister to preside over the Congress of our great interstellar union. We carry on a tradition once passed down a thousand generations by the great Galactic Republic which preceded us, and cemented the moral and civic foundations upon which we stand. This tradition is greater than each of us, and each one of us who answers the call to public service must render themselves subservient to a cause that is greater than the whims and desires of the few, or the one. We are a Democracy. It is in this tradition that we find our strength, and it is in the renewal of the minds and spirits of those who aspire to serve the will of the people that we find our wellspring.

It is one thing to speak of these matters. It is another entirely to breathe life into them, and to see good principles bear practical fruit. In this, I have been fortunate. I have now presided over the peaceful transition of government for three administrations. It is easy to understate this accomplishment. We represent over one hundred thousand inhabited star systems, with a population well into trillions. Each person, an individual with their own wants, needs, and life perspectives. To find concord in this house of government, amid all of these disparate voices, is a challenge that cannot be overstated. Yet for eight years, our fledgling Alliance has answered the call, as set forth by the Republic of old. We endure, not despite our difference, but because we understand that this disparity gives us strength. Our ability to listen, to compromise, and to bring forth with the fruit of our efforts a nation that is greater than the sum of its parts is the fulfillment of our promise as public servants to the citizens who we pledge to serve."

Mon Razien eased her hands back from the podium, maintaining her stately smile as she glanced to the two people at her left.

"Before I administer my duty here today, I will have both our outgoing and our incoming First Ministers address the nation. Mister Ave, the dais is yours."

[Salem Ave]

As the crowd applauded for Mon Razien, Salem returned her smile.

“Thank you, Madam Chief,” he said as he stepped up to the podium. He paused for a moment, letting the last ripples of applause fade away, before he began.

“As a boy, I never imagined myself becoming a Senator. I’m Arkanian, so what my parents wanted was for me to become a doctor or a scientist, but what I wanted more than anything was to become a Jedi Knight. To travel the Galaxy, righting wrongs and making fascinating discoveries. To protect the Republic. I was fortunate enough to be accepted as a student at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant... and even more fortunate still to escape Coruscant on the night the Republic fell.”

Ave paused and those who were closest to the Senate building could see his expression had become somber, grave even.

“My story is not unique. Many of you listening to me now will have experienced the same loss, same fear, the same… horror. Whether it was because you too were a Jedi, or because you were not human, or for a hundred other abhorrent reasons, the tyranny and the brutality of the Galactic Empire touched each of our lives. Yet, for all the atrocities committed by Palpatine and his successors, here we stand. Not stronger because of our suffering, but in spite of it.

We have enjoyed a number of years, now, of peace and stability. In that time, it has been an honour to represent both Onderon and the wider Alliance community in the Senate. Every day I have worked alongside brilliant people, from all corners of the Galaxy, and every day I have reminded myself how it was that we came to stand inside the building you see behind me. It is important to remember that. To remember the fall of the Republic, the fight of the Rebellion, and the rise of the Alliance. Each of us fought to be where we are today, and we must continue to fight. As long as the Galactic Empire and its like exists, our fight will continue.

I can think of no better person to have beside me in that fight, and to take my place as First Minister than Taataani Meorrrei.”

Moving to step away from the dais, Ave gestured for the Senator to take his place.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

To the right and left of the landing leading to the doors of the Senate House, a pair of galleries had been erected for the event. Unlike the throng pressed in a crush along the Boulevard of Liberation, the galleries were for dignitaries, VIP's, important guests, and family. The latter, in Senator Meorrei's case meant that two rows of coveted seating was reserved for her house. Portable atmospheric field generators had been activated beneath the gallery bleachers, creating a soft shimmer of a shield bubble meant to keep the rain from reaching the audience within.

T'yeellaa looked to her left and right. How long had it been since all of her fathers, brothers, and sisters had been in the same place? Of course it was an occasion to fête mother, she was the gravitational pull that held their constellation together. And despite how bitterly they'd fought previously, T'yeellaa couldn't completely withdraw into that feeling. As with so many matters of family, one couldn't fully escape the constancy of ambivalence. She was proud - legitimately proud of her mother's accomplishment. How could she not be? And looking down the row, it struck her at how fortune had blessed them all, whether it was because of or in spite of their matriarch's gravitational influence. Perhaps none moreso than her little brother standing next to her in his smartly-appointed Alliance dress uniform.

"Ssajy ssomethjing." she spoke to Cirrsseeto quietly, returning her attention to the dais. K'ohta'rrou Meorrrei could think of few words to cover what she was feeling, and she needed profundity in this moment. That wouldn't come from Rai'faani, who was standing much closer to the dais in a purposeful proximity that showed that she held her mother's favor.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirrsseeto shifted in his seat slightly, stretching his legs as far as he could within the row. His prosthetic leg never truly lost its slight ache, whether it was psychosomatic or not. He glanced to T'yeellaa in her crimsons, understanding what she wanted to hear, if not exactly sure how to say it.

"jI rrememberr bejing awarre of all we had, even when jI was young, even among the otherr famjiljies jin Hai'raathee, you know?"

Their mother was taking the podium, dressed brilliantly as always. Cirr had to wonder if she'd paid attention to the weather, or if it was intentional - as if the force of her choices was strong enough to beat back nature itself.

"We'rre blessed, Sailla. We couldn't do half the thjings we do, orr be the people we arre wjithout acknowledgjing that motherr had a hand jin that. But sometjimes jI wonderr what enough looks ljike, orr even jif enough actually exjists."

He paused, feeling the eyes of his older sister. He stole a glance back, and it didn't need asking to know that she definitely felt the conflict he was putting into words.

"jIf we djidn't wonderr that, jI thjink we'd prrobably be mjissjing somethjing jimporrtant."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani approached the podium, sparing only a scant glance at the small step that she'd demanded to be placed beneath to give her a few extra inches. It may have been tedious to demand such a trifle as to bring the appearance of her height closer in parity to the tall and lean Arkanian, but in her experience of years, small things carried weight and applied pressure that accumulated, without drawing attention to themselves. There were hundreds of small decisions made each day, applied correctly to the pressure points of people and the galaxy surrounding that could fold even the most unmovable objects into the shape they ought to be. Over the span of eighty years, how many thousands or even tens of thousands of little things had she concerned herself with? Her detractors could paint her as fussy, but where were they now?

She ascended her purposefully-placed step, and rested in a moment of purposeful silence before the eyes of thousands before her - and through the lenses of a dozen holocams floating like insects beyond - the eyes of trillions still. As a Baroness, she'd known that she would be on the minds of the powerful. As Senator, she knew that she'd be a familiar face to half a galaxy. But as First Minister, they would all of them hang onto her every word. Therefore, every word she said must be purposeful. Every word was a little thing, spoken by a woman tasked to lead half of the known galaxy. From this height, even little things could turn planets in their orbit, or boil the fire from the stars.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Ja irra korra'nai."

The Senator, soon to be First Minister, let the word settle upon silence before continuing.

"Thjiss meanss blesssjingss and good forrtune to jyou. On Carshoulis, we grreet each otherr thjiss wajy, but thjiss jiss morre than a ssocjial morre. jIf jyourr cup overrflowss, jit jiss betterr that jyourr nejighborrss ssharre jin prrossperrjitjy than forr jit to be ssquanderred orr taken forr grranted. Becausse of 'ja irra korra'nai', jI came to Bothawuji to sserrve thjiss goverrnment. Not out of a dessjirre to enrrjich mjysself, but wjith an underrsstandjing that jI could have made an eassjierr chojice. jIt would be eassjierr to not get jinvolved. jIt would be eassjierr to look the otherr wajy, to ssajy nothjing jin a galaxjy wherre half of the worrldss ssufferr underr the lassh and jyoke of jImperrjial tjyrranjy."

Taataani rested her hands against the edges of the lectern.

"jI mentjion thjiss not becausse jI am exceptjional, but because jI am not. Therre arre people jin thjiss crrowd who made a chojice to take a sstand forr the grreat experrjiment of thjiss Alljiance when thejy themsselvess had meanss, full belljiess, and sso much to losse. jIt would have been eassjy forr ssome of jyou to ssjimpljy not get jinvolved, and jyet.

We alrreadjy know what the otherr ssjide of that chjit lookss ljike. Forr the trrjilljionss who had thejirr rrjightss trrampled upon, thejirr homess desstrrojyed, loved oness gone mjissjing. Forr the oness wjithout food, perrhapss even waterr, or even the bassjic djignjitjy of thejirr own frreedom. Everrjy one of us knowss farr too manjy people who have ssufferred sso durrjing the Galactjic Cjivjil War. Thejy have long been ourr bannerr, ourr foundatjion, and the sstandarrd upon whjich ourr thoussandss of sstarr ssjysstemss have rralljied behjind. But even morre than thjiss, thejy arre people of thejirr own wantss, needss, and drreamss. Thejirr cupss arre wantjing. jIt jiss mjy ssolemn rressponssjibjiljitjy to wage a warr agajinsst that want. jI jinvjite jyou to jojin me asss well."

The Senator raised her head slightly, her palms turning down flat against the lectern.

"jI know jyou expect to hearr about the otherr warr asss well. The warr that hass exchanged overrt desstrructjion and bloodsshed forr a cold and exjisstentjial fearr. Ssome arre thankful to have carrved assjide a natjion whosse people can enjojy peace and prrossperrjitjy - perrhapss forr the fjirrst tjime jin thejir ljivess. Ssome, of courrsse, look at what we have made, and thejy tassk uss all that 'we could jyet do even morre'. jIt jiss not wrrong to feel one of thesse thjings, orr to even feel both at the ssame tjime. Ssavorr the glasss that jiss full, and fjill the one that jiss emptjy.

Ssome majy assk, how can jyou do ejitherr of thesse thjingss whjile ljivjing underr the sshadow of weaponss that can deljiverr jinterrsstellarr annjihjilatjion acrross the galaxjy wjithjin mjinutess? jIt jiss rrjight to assk thjiss. jIn a wajy, the galaxjy of todajy jiss a ssaferr place than the one of jyessterrdajy, but jin the age of Starkjillerr mjisssjiless, that can change jin one moment of mjisscalculatjion, jin an jinsstant of jintemperrance. Now morre than everr, jit jiss jimporrtant that we underrsstand that ourr enemjy jiss not and hass neverr been the people who ljive on the otherr ssjide of a map, bejyond ljiness both calloussljy and ssensselesssljy. Ourr enemjy jiss warr jitsself. jIt jiss the brreakdown and fajilurre of rreasson, sso that the lasst rressort leavess uss tearrjing at each otherr. Cjitjizenss of the Alljiance, we musst know ourr enemjy and we musst all gjirrd ourrsselvess agajinst jit."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Sso then," Taataani afforded a playful smile, "what doess thjiss mean? How do jyou fjight agajinsst a concept? jYou can't bomb jit orr sshoot jit. What jiss thjiss woman gojing on about?"

At this, her smile broadened to show teeth.

"Mjy ansswerr jiss two worrdss. Ljive well. That jiss djifferrent than ljivjing extrravagantljy, forr onljy ssome can choosse to do that. Ljivjing well means lookjing afterr jyourr nejighborrss needss asss well asss jyourr own. jIt meanss bejing engaged cjitjizenss, and not backjing awajy frrom jyourr cjivjic rressponssjibjiljitiess. jIt meanss votjing - even jif jyou don't vote forr me, though..." still smiling, Taataani offered raised ears and a self-deprecating shrug, "...jI hope jyou do next tjime.

jI assk jyou all to ljive well and to learrn to ljive well, becausse therre arre trrjilljions ljivjing on the otherr ssjide of that arrbjitrrarrjy ljine on a map who cannot. That opporrtunjitjy wass sstolen frrom them bjy an authorrjitarrjian rregjime that jiss onljy jinvessted jin jitss own ssurrvjival. jI assk jyou to ljive well becausse therre jiss one thjing that thosse people can sstjill do. Thejy can ssee, and thejy can hearr. And trrjy asss thejy mjight, the Empjirre can't hjide ourr prrossperrjitjy frrom the people underr jitss ssubjugatjion. Thejy can't sstop thjiss ssjignal that jiss carrjyjing my worrdss acrross the known Galaxjy jin a nearr jinsstant, to worrldss we cannot begjin to count. The ssjignal that jI guarrantee - at thjiss verrjy moment - Mjirranda Tarrkjin jiss watchjing. Sshe'ss watchjing, and sshe ought to be afrrajid. Sshe sshould be afrrajid when the people herr Empjirre holdss hosstage assk asss one 'Wherre jiss mjy prrossperrjitjy? How do jI ljive well?' Sshe wjill be afrrajid, becausse sshe wjill have no ansswerr to feed them. Hungerr, be jit frrom food orr frrom drreamss, can turrn the powerrlesss jinto ssomethjing sstrrongerr than anjy vehjicle of warr."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"To my oppossjite numberr on Corrusscant, jI am not the one jyou sshould fearr. jI have no dessjignss to rrule the galaxjy ljike jyou do. jI am not, how do jyou ssajy, meassurrjing jyourr offjice jin the jImperrjial Palace forr new drrapess. jIn fact, jif jyou had the decencjy to rresspect the rrjightss of the people underr jyourr rrule, therre mjight even come a dajy wherre we could be frrjiendss. Where Alljiance and Empjirre both could ssjit togetherr at the table amjicabljy, and casst assjide thjiss game of maps and flagss that sserrvess onljy to tearr uss aparrt.

jI challenge jyou, Mjirranda Tarrkjin, to be the leaderr that jyourr people desserrve, not merreljy the one that jyourr frrjiendss benefjit frrom. jI even extend mjy jinvjitatjion to jyou asss mjy guesst, to ssee how frree people ljive, sshould jyou rrequjirre an example. Betterr that jyou learrn now, than forr yourr own deprrjived trrjilljionss to teach jyou thjiss lessson laterr."

[Celeste Starborn]

It was only fitting that the Senator for New Alderaan, and Speaker of the Alliance Senate, should sit in the front row of Taataani Meorrrei’s audience. Celeste Starborn wore Alderaan white, yet her expression was stony grey. Her pale eyes focussed on some point in the mid-distance as she listened to the incoming First Minister speak. Unseeing, her eyes drifted over the faces of the crowd, hearing but not entirely processing what Taataani said. The Galactic Empire had taken everything from Celeste. Her husband, her brother… her daughter. Her nephew Dashiel now, too; his name had become anathema to the Imperials, who knew him as one of the insurgents who had attempted to assassinate the pregnant Empress.

Celeste blinked, pale eyes shifting up to focus at last on the new First Minister, as she invited Miranda Tarkin to be her guest.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Allowing a moment for pique to ebb, Taataani stepped away from the subject of the enemy.

"jI come to sserrve jyou asss a newcomerr to the jidea of democrratjic vjirrtuess. The Carshoulis Clussterr jiss a a monarrchjy, and asss Ssenatorr, jI wass appojinted to the posst at the pleassurre of mjy Queen. jYou could ssajy that mjy tjime asss the junjiorr Ssenatorr of Keppaa Brens could be ssummarrjized asss learrnjing bjy dojing. But jin mjy sshorrt sstudjy, jI have found a passsjion. Ssomeone morre cjynjical than jI once ssajid that democrracjy jiss the worrsst forrm of goverrnment jin the galaxjy, except forr all of the otherr oness."

The Senator gave her audience permission to indulge the comedic remark with a little smile, then pushed on.

"jI can ssee thejirr pojint of vjiew. Democrracjy jisss messsjy. jIt takess tjime. Sso verrjy often, jyou don't get what jyou want. And that jiss okajy. jIt sstandss underr jitss own wejight jin imposssjible defjiance agajinst sself jinterresst and old grrjievancess. Not onljy doess jit sstand, jit perrsseverress. Not onljy doess jit perrsseverre, but jit rrjissess, jit asscendss the narrrow path to carrrjy thosse who darre walk alongssjide to, jif not enljightenment, to a place wherre the grreatesst and leasst of uss aljike have a sstake jin the betterrment of all ssentjientss and ourr common condjitjion. jI am both daunted and grrateful to sserrve jyou all, and jI look forrwarrd to the blesssjingss and good forrtune we sshall all ssharre jin the futurre, thank jyou."

Drawing in a breath to exhale in slow release, Taataani stepped down from the lectern, relinquishing it back to Mon Razien. A Senatorial honor guard stepped into the fore. Instead of his force pike, the guard carried a bright, coruscating ceremonial orb. Within the sphere, a radiant light source split into energetic tendrils which traced along the interior of the artifact.

"We will now administer the Oath of Office," the Chandrilan Chief of State spoke in her coreward accent, "Senator Meorrrei has elected to swear her oath upon the Naboo Orb of Reconciliation, out of respect for its symbolism in unity and peace."

Razien gestured, and the guard presented the artifact.

"Place your right hand upon the orb and repeat after me."

Taataani eased her hand over the top of the orb's smooth, cool surface. Where her hand contacted, the wandering arcs of energy now remained static, keeping a connection between her hand and the radiant center.

"I offer by solemn oath my committment to the office of First Minister to the Senate of the Alliance of Free Planets."

"jI offerr bjy ssolemn oath, mjy commjittment to the offjice of Fjirrsst Mjinjissterr to the Ssenate of the Alljiance of Frree Planetss."

"I swear to uphold the principles set forth by the Alliance charter, and to execute faithfully the laws of the Senate."

"jI sswearr to uphold the prrjincjipless sset forrth by the Alljiance charrterr, and to execute fajithfulljy the lawss of the Ssenate."

"I pledge to the citizens of the Alliance my unswerving loyalty, and serve at the pleasure of the people."

"jI pledge to the cjitjizenss of the Alljiance mjy unsswerrvjing lojyaltjy, and sserrve at the pleassurre of the people."

Mon Razien paused with a nod, an unspoken cessation to the call and repeat of the oath.

"By the power granted to me as Chief of State, I affirm your oath and your appointment to the office. May the Force be with you, First Minister Meorrrei."

As Taataani eased her hand from the orb, a swell of applause grew from the galleries and the throng below, rolling down the Boulevard of Liberation.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Two Hours Later


A slate of festivities and events dovetailed into the end of the swearing in ceremony, ensuring that Taataani's schedule would be busy well into the night. It was a training session to the kind of marathon endurance that she'd have to maintain from this moment on. A junior Senator's schedule was busy, but it wasn't nearly so consistently busy as that of the person tasked to preside over the entire Senate. Finding down time, even if that was fifteen minutes, was suddenly a luxury.

"Djid jyou brrjing them?"

The First Minister resided at the eye of a hurricane within her appointed quarters in the Kayern Lus'tayn Reception House. The next matter on the schedule was the Inauguration Ball. The crowd outside was being warmed up by a slate of musical acts, and Taataani could hear the music softly through the walls beyond. Senatorial Guard surveyed the chaos in the room like statues as nearly a dozen others tended to duties ranging from sending and receiving missives concerning cabinet selection, to simply ensuring that Taataani had a bottle of water. But the most important matter at hand was the box being delivered by one of her junior ministerial aides. Setting aside her water, Taataani carefully peeled back the box's lid, and smiled.

"Perrfect." She pulled the somewhat plain-looking slippers free from the shoebox, and immediately replaced them with her more provocative red pumps. She sighed once they were on, and her toes kneaded against the cushioned soles.

"With all due respect ma'am, slippers?" the aide, a Theelin woman named Iyarren, seemed uncomfortable asking the question. Obviously she'd been expecting to fetch something more important for the leader of the Free Galaxy. "At a dance?"

Taataani, for her part, didn't take offense to the question. She smiled in that clever way that people did when they possessed forbidden knowledge. Rising from the couch, the First Minister glided a few steps towards the changing privy erected in the corner of the quarters, where a valet droid stood with a box she knew to contain her dress for the ball.

"Neverr underesstjimate the powerr of comforrtable sshoess, orr a drress tajilorred long enough to conceal them."

Taataani finished her bottle of water, trading it for the dress box the valet carried. She disappeared behind the privy, only her head visible.

"Asss long asss mjy hussbandss prromjisse not to bombasstjicalljy ssweep me off mjy feet, no one sshould everr be the wjisserr."

[Grace Van-Derveld]

The plan was to slip back onto Bothawui, debrief, and call it a night to avoid anything with the inauguration. It was the perfect plan until it was thwarted the moment Grace stepped off the shuttle, greeted by senate police. The new First Minister requested her presence, with allotted time needed for the director to freshen up. She scoffed at them, motioning to her disheveled appearance and chuckled: hair up in a messy bun, fatigues covered in soot with the light smell of ozone from heavy blaster fire.

She was perfectly fine meeting Meorrrei like this. If she was going to lose her job as director, might as well make a lasting impression.

A government speeder took her to the minister's residence, escorting her up the grand stairs and inside. It amused Grace to no end that she was surrounded by fancy ball gowns and suits and military dress that bustled around her as she casually made her way through the haphazardly organized chaos. It was almost a dance, Grace weaving through aides and interns that sped walked and jogged to complete time sensitive needs, all with hands in the pockets of the bomber jacket she wore as if this was a casual stroll. Oh many turned her way in confusion as to why the Director of Alliance Intelligence was summoned so quickly and in such a disastrous state. She took it in literal stride with a haughty smirk, flashing teeth at a wee intern that about wet himself.

Once Grace was recognized, aides opened the massive doors to the suite and she stepped through, almost being body checked by an aide. She tempered her annoyed brows back down and rolled her wrists, bending the ends of the jacket outwards.

Grace was not phased that the First Minister was changing and spoke plainly. "You wanted to have a bit of a chat then?"

It was clear who she spoke to but the lack of formality elicited a few gasps, several eyes to bulge out, and maybe some neck sprains as it became unnaturally quiet in the room despite the elegant music and loud chatter of the crowd vibrating through the walls.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Obscured by virtue of having her back turned, Taataani indulged herself with a smile. She pivoted in her slippers, the privacy curtain giving her clearance to survey the room while only revealing herself from the chin upward. The temperature of body language in the half dozen minders nearest her had reached a chill, but the newly-elected First Minister dismissed them with a slight backhanded wave. Instantly, the people on the half of the room closest to Taataani vacated to the other half, finding something meaningful to occupy their time and attention. Only a pair of Senatorial Commandos remained within effective distance but arranged for decorum.

"Frressh frrom a fjight. jI trrusst that jyou haven't jusst landed ssomethjing trroublessome on mjy dessk. jI haven't had an opporrtunjitjy jyet to ssjit behjind jit."

Not letting the ad-hoc interview slow her progress, Taataani began to shift out of her red dress, preparing to change the scenery for her next social obligation.

"jI hate excesssjive jintrrosspectjion, jitss sso much navel gazjing, but jI'd expect the Djirrectorr of jIntelljigence to know how to take the temperraturre of a rroom jusst ass eassjiljy asss sshe can sshoot a blassterr. Sso, whjy have jI ssummoned jyou?"

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace watched the silent exchange and merely offered the dismissed staff a courteous thin smile, eyes twinkling before attention returned to Meorrrei and her statement.

"Small skirmish during an extradition. Nothing to worry about."

A rival Kajidic had sent bounty hunters to break up the Alliance receiving Anto Balerial - a Bith scientist connected in a new marketed spice product. They wanted Anto's knowledge. The director had anticipated this on Nar Shaddaa and set up snipers and disguised operatives for back up to successfully complete the mission.

The minister got right to the point. This was a welcomed surprised compared to all of the packed niceties that wasted time.

With a quick tug of her shoulders forward, Grace let her hands drop freely beside her. "We're here to chat about my future. And since you've indubitably poured over my file, you've come to a decision.

Either her passion and controversial ways have won the minister over or she was about to get canned.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"jYess."

Taataani made a small gesture with one hand, summoning a valet droid which hovered behind her to catch the zipper of her newly-donned ballroom gown. The droid eased upward, drawing the zipper fast in a careful motion.

"And jif jI wass asskjing jyou to fall on jyourr ssworrd jI could have done that thrrough HoloNet. jYou sserrve at the pleassurre of the Mjinjisstrrjy. Mjy prredecessorr ssaw no rreasson to doubt jyourr capabjiljitjiess..."

The First Minister's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Grace's state of dress. Her expressive ears planed slightly, but the corners of her mouth turned upwards slightly.

"...and jyou'rre not afrrajid to get sshjit done, djirrectljy jif necesssarrjy."

Taataani carefully negotiated her fingers along her hairline, loosening the wig she wore. A far contrast to the resplendent array of red hair it presented, the Minister's hair beneath was a crop of brittle grey hair that had been disdainfully pruned to a length that would be unobtrusive to a lifetime of wearing such ornaments. The change made Taataani look suddenly a decade older.

"jIf jI offerr jyou jyourr own job, wjill jyou take jit? Wjill jyou worrk forr me?"

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace shrugged as she supposed the Minister had a point about an informal firing, but there were politicians that enjoyed making a face to face spectacle. As Meorrrei continue to prepare for the evening, Grace patiently watched. She could sense that the Minister was not pausing for show but out of necessity to navigate taking off the wig. The director had worn countless wigs, some terribly heavy, over the course of her career but to constantly wear them publicly was a custom she gratefully didn't have to bare.

At the very least, the minister admitted to liking her style.

"Does this mean I can finally get shit done my own way? Properly," she began with a firm voice. "Or am I still going to be babysat by command?

When Dasquian was first captured, she went against orders to find him. When he disappeared for a second time, they saddled her with busy work and constantly monitored Grace personally and professionally. Her little outing with DeLaTour on Tatooine awhile back had an Alliance presence - the two so called bounty hunters that conveniently happened to be around was sloppy work, but then she realized it was done on purpose. Alliance Command wanted to keep her on a short leash and flaunted that fact.

"I'm tired of living in the shadow of what was considered a mistake in finding Agent Belargic. How about we cut that cord so I can do my job."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The First Minister held a new wig with both hands, this one an untrussed piece of wavy cornsilk locks. She quickly and fastidiously seated it on her head, working the seam against her scalp to artfully disappear as if she'd done such a thing thousands of times before. A few careful passes to coax the flow of the hair, and the illusion was cemented.

"jIf jyou'rre asskjing jif jyou have carte blanche to rrun jIntelljigence asss jyourr own perrssonal fjief, we both know that jissn't rrealjisstjic. Not jin a galaxjy wherre a mjisstake can mean the mutual errassurre of a few hundrred sstarr ssjysstemss."

Taataani paused, considering her words before smirking slightly.

"jYou'rre herre to advjisse me on jyourr worrld. jI assk forr lace, and jI want jit frrjilljy and deljicate. jI assk forr jirron, jI want jit harrd and ssharrp. jI expect jI'll need both on hand at all tjimess, and that mjight even mean jI want to thrrow a rrock and hjide mjy hand at the ssame tjime."

She stepped out of the privacy screen, now wearing a dress of rose-gold and black accent. A minder approached with a jewelry case, but Taataani paid them no attention, keeping her focus on Grace exclusively as she plucked a pair of heavy earrings.

"jIf jyou can offerr that, jI can make ssurre that jyou have what jyou need to do the worrk, and that jyou ansswerr to me alone, and not ssome hand-wrrjingjing dove frrom Naboo, Ssullusst, orr wherreverr."

Retrieving another pair of earrings, Taataani paused, ears perked and eyebrow cocked, waiting for Grace's estimation of the terms.

[Kallum Romanoch]

Beneath him, the city of Drev'starn unfurled, an exotic canvas of twinkling topaz peaks and gilded marble towers, shimmering, and bloodied in shades of sunset red. A familiar enough sight for Kallum Romanoch, who, as aide to former Senator Meorrrei, found himself in the Bothan capital more often than he liked, but admittedly, never before from a position quite as elevated. The Kayern Lus'tayn Reception House presided proudly over the valley, a marvel of exquisite architecture that traced its origins back to... well, long ago. Kallum tired of the brief 30 seconds in, which had been, in his estimation, 30 seconds longer than the well-mannered and eloquent local tasked to play tour guide to the new staff, earlier that same day. A few years of humouring monologues of the self-important had fine-tuned his personal filter for the unimportant, and there was nothing about the Reception House that he needed to know that he couldn't tell at a glance. On the surface, it was a pleasant change of view, nothing more; in his mind, entire continents were shifting.

He turned from the window and considered the scenery around him. An ornate desk, with a flat varnished surface the size of a twin bed, was presently littered with a small mountain of half-read datapads, a half-eaten deluxe bag of salted tuberitos, and a half-empty bottle of Corellian bourbon. On the lush carpeted floor, the day's cast-offs: a suit of deepest blue, sprawled like a drunken heap, an ivory waistcoat, spilled open, with buttons of loose change silver shimmering in the waning light, and a red neck tie that wove amongst the creases of a starched white shirt, like a silken serpent shedding its old skin. And, all around, there were faces, foreign and familiar, they hovered in the air, frozen in cool hues of holographic blue. The emitters burbled in unison, and the faces changes, once again. Kallum knew them all, but still, he recited.

"Ero Lostivan, assistant to the Home Secretary. Progue Abidash, Holonet Liaison. Serg Centi, Ambassador to Chandrila. Grace Van-Derveld," Kallum checked his wrist chrono, "Secretary of Intelligence."

The First Minister's itinerary was as familiar to him as his own. In his mind's eye, he imagined the exchange between the two women over the top of a privacy curtain, and knew that, by now, the offer would have already been made and accepted. Such was his confidence in Taataani's powers of persuasion. Besides, the old girl never left anything to chance. It was no coincidence that her would-be keeper of secrets received a job offer in such a private and personal place, after all. He smiled to himself, then. Perhaps he was getting soft, but the swell of pride in his chest was the most genuine thing he'd felt in a long time. He'd felt it earlier, too, when she nailed that fateful first speech. Given half a chance, Taataani Meorrrei would sweep the galaxy of its feet. The standard had been set, now, and with it, came expectation.

In a beautifully cut glass, half an inch of bourbon remained. It was emptied in a gulp. His eyes closed while he drowned himself in the afterburn. The sweat came on fast, prickling like ice. He sucked in, air skittering over his teeth, and breathed out, again, deflating until he slumped into an antique chair. The leather stuck to his bare back and he could feel his pulse drumming through his skin, like his entire body was throbbing. After a moment, the feeling passed. What he would give for just one line of spice. But those days were long gone. Gone, though their spectre remained. And that was exactly the problem.

Grace Van-Derveld. Director of Intelligence. Secretary of Intelligence. Everywhere, intelligence. These were to be his co-workers. His peers? The thought was laughable. They would sniff him out in a heartbeat: the no-one, the fraudster, the thief who preyed on an old woman's generosity to ascend high above his station, and beyond. First, a curiosity, then a play thing, who somehow became an integral voice in the operation of MeorrreiCorp and, later, Koensayr-Meorrrei. That had been business, and cutthroat business was a language familiar to even a small-time former Black Sun scrub. He wormed his way through, buoyed by charm and confidence, alone. Capability came by osmosis - you couldn't be around Taataani Meorrrei for long without some talent rubbing off - and it translated well into politics. He worked hard, the rewards were rich, and Senator Meorrrei's coattails were long.

But she was a senator, no more, and he had nowhere left to hide.

Kallum rose and snatched the towel off the back of the chair, it was emblazoned with the Kayern Lus'tayn crest and boasted the kind of softness that would spoil a newborn. The clamminess was mopped from his skin and exchanged for the soft kiss of black Cyrene silk. Over his shirt he pulled a finely pinstriped double-breasted jacket that stopped short of the waist, buttoned, it was a bespoke fit, cinched shut with a matching cummerbund. If nothing else, he would at least look the part.

Beyond the door, music stirred, warming up the early arrivals. Kallum swallowed his doubts, and stepped out into the blazing light. Tonight, he'd drink, and dance, and charm. Tomorrow, there were scrappers on Subterrel whose lives would be changed by the decisions he made.

How many times can a man shed his skin? How will he know when to stop?

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Of course it wasn't realistic and Grace wasn't asking for complete control. She didn't want absolute power like her brother. It was why she worked so hard to do what she felt was right in her heart to complete the mission, save lives and make the tough decisions with a clear conscious. No, it wasn't easy deciding who lived and who died but in the end, the greater good of the Alliance's purpose continued. Those sacrifices were not in vain but allowed the celebration of freedoms throughout dozens upon dozens of systems.

She didn't need the Force. She didn't need to accept her lupine heritage. Her brother Vega's and Captain s'Ilancy's corruption was proof enough the dual power within her held too much temptation to stray from the mission. Her purpose was to serve and protect the systems of the Alliance without having every single move approved by a fucking committee.

The minister was offering her that opportunity again.

"It's not really my forte but I suppose I can fluff up the news when needed, Minister."

Though Meorrrei was smart enough to know that if the news was shit, no amount of polished and posh words would make it shine.

She locked eyes with Meorrrei and inclined her head out of respect. "I accept your terms and take the du’arri, Minister Meorrrei."

Her accent was as perfect as a human could achieve with Cizerack, wanting to display how serious she was in continuing the work of Alliance Intelligence under new leadership.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

If Taataani knew Grace better, she'd have replied with a teasing nobody likes a kiss-ass riposte, no matter how appreciated the touch might have been. Since she was still at the periphery, the First Minister merely smiled, though the expression certainly met her eyes. By now she was moving down the priority of jewelry, and she draped a necklace over her collarbone, working the hasp at the nape of her neck.

"Good. jI'd love to fête jyou forr jyourr acceptance tonjight, but jI have a ssusspjicjion that jyou don't apprrecjiate that ssorrt of attentjion."

As if to point out the obvious, Taataani gestured to the action-ready state of Grace's attire.

"Sso the next besst thjing jI can offerr jiss the opporrtunjitjy to get to worrk."

Bangles came next, and Taataani carefully selected a half dozen, sliding each in sequence over her hands and down her arms.

"jI want jyou to take the temperraturre of mjy counterrparrt, howeverr djirrect orr jindjirrect jyou can. jI need to know what sshe jiss thjinkjing about thjiss, and what sshe expectss and antjicjipatess."

It was a simple request, but at the same time one that was large and fraught.

"Doess sshe feel thrreatened, orr doess sshe perrcejive weaknesss, orr ssome degrree jin between."

No need to waste time over the how's and the why's. Taataani just needed to know that Grace could do it.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace's lips quickly flexed upward in a smirk before confirming, pocketed hands reaching outwards as she shrugged. "Always have work to do and this invitation was last minute, Minister."

Meorrrei would eventually learn, if not already, that the director did everything in her power to avoid formal functions. There were times her presence was mandated by Alliance Command or the previous Minister, but she was dressed to blend in, not stand out, and chatted on the peripherals of the function. Grace always found a loophole to complete her obligations without being the center of attention.

The first order by the Minister was easy enough and she nodded, easing up her stance. Her mind was already going through a list of assets in the area and ones planetside that could start data mining. "Give me 48 standard hours and consider it done."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani's expression turned steely. "Fourrtjy-ejight hourrss. jI'll hold jyou to that. jI don't have the luxurrjy of bejing able to wajit to fjind out. jI expect that jI and Mjirranda Tarrkjin wjill be takjing each otherr'ss meassurre wjithjin the dajy orr two forr cerrtajin. jI want to have herr at a djissadvantage."