Tirahnn, a world skirting close to the edge of the core - much closer to the Empire then the Coalition, and it had indeed even been under the Empire's thrall during the Galactic Civil War. Nevertheless, a holographic image of it hovered above the meeting table that sat in the bowls of the Coalition Command Tower, where Regrad held meetings with the highest ranking officials of the Coalition.

His first impression wasn't much - it might not have actually been in the Core itself, but it was a Core world nonetheless. Spiring cities covered the surface, and the spaces inbetween were generally completely given over to food-production and other necessities. The population was densly human, that particular breed of Coreward humans that had become so very entangled in the highest matters of the galaxy. Indeed, in the very room Regrad could see humans of the same type, and had to admit that they had a knack for getting themselves involved - for good or ill - in everything that happened in the galaxy.

However, as experts and intelligence consultants processed a new flood of reports and directives, it became soon apparent that this otherwise plain world held much greater significance then one would expect, just by looking at it. Tirahnn and it's nine moons were in fact a true trading nexus, a gateway between the Core and the vast, exotic reaches beyond in sparser space. Most goods of worth, not to mention travellers, rumours, and knowledge from half the galaxy might pass through Tirahnn eventually.

Finally, it was determined that the next planet to be approached for Coalition membership would be Tirahnn. It’s bustling trade, economic knowledge, and strategic position made them an ideal candidate, despite the risks of soliciting for allies so close to the Empire’s doors. Even now, various clerks, assistants, agents, and so forth were moving in and around the tower to prepare for yet another endeavor. This time, however, the four favored first-contact specialists usually chosen to head up such tasks had been reassigned for some much needed R&R - although the unstated reason was that a mission of such delicacy and seriousness would have to be handled by some more skilled operatives.

In their place, the Coalition sent Knight Dolora, a Bimm, and thus an excellent candidate to speak to a trading people - her race is renowned for their haggling and trading abilities. To accompany her, and also, to defend them from any potential ‘incidents’ in Imperial space, the Coalition sent Captain Ion and his battlegroup - centered around the Claymore-class Battleship The Unmitigated. Regrad went over the various intelligence reports, crew portfolios, and such that had been prepared for this mission, but knowing them already to be in order, he put aside the datapad and instead focused on the hologram.

“I wonder if this is wise...” he murmured, mostly to himself, but he dismissed his doubts - it was better to apply himself fully to a task, then to spend time worrying about it. There were other things to do, and this mission was ready to go. Reaching into his desk and bringing out a stylus, he marked out his final confirmation and approval of the mission specs onto the file, and passed it to a passing clerk. The mission had begun.

***

“Are you sure we have everything?” said Ion, who paced up and down the bridge as his second-in-command went over the list once more.

“Yes, I am.” he croaked “Just as sure as I was last time, and as sure as I will be in ten minutes when you ask again.”

Ion grumbled at this remark, but said nothing and instead seated himself in the captain’s chair that sat in the middle of the ship’s bridge - from which he had an excellent view of the orbiting station they were docked at, and the planet Bimmisari which it orbited. The station was new - a sign of changing times, and perhaps, changing fortunes - although most of it was under construction and just what purpose it was supposed to serve Ion did not yet know. All he knew for sure was that he was allowed to use it now to pick up this Dolora knight person before heading towards their final destination deep into what most people simply dismissed as ‘Imperial space’.

“So we definetly have the reserve batteries I asked for? And the replacement parts for the fighters? The emergency rations and fuel I asked for, that’s all aboard?”

“Yes, sir, it is.” croaked the lieutenant, who threw in a sigh before saying “I must say, sir, we’re not going off to war - just a diplomatic escort trip. Are you sure it’s necessary to load up so much? Imperial space is well patrolled, so I doubt we’ll encounter any form of pirate ambush, and the Imperials themselves don’t actually own Tirahnn, so what could go wrong?”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” said Ion, grimly. “What could go wrong? We don’t know, do we? So we’ll instead have to be ready for really unlikely things, since that’s the only sort of stuff that can go wrong, and if it does go wrong, then we’ll have to deal with it!”

“...Fair enough, sir.” And without another croak, the lieutenant went back to his duties.

“What’s so fair, now?” said a voice at about Ion’s waist. He looked down, surprised, and saw Dolora - the diminuative Bimm - giving him a mildly attentive look. Ion nearly jumped in shock, but managed to retain his composure, and bowed to his ship’s guest.

“Milady, we are ready to depart at your discretion.”

“No need for that, captain.” said Dolora, who shook her head and waved a dismissive gesture. “Technically, I probably don’t even outrank you.”

Nevertheless, Ion remained respectfully bowed for a few seconds longer. Dolora had gained some recognition and respect, teaching soldiers at the Bimmisari Academy, as well as assisting local authorities with their various duties. Though she, like the knights in general, had no truly fixed rank, she had apparently earned enough respect to receive a bow from the Tynnian.

“We best make haste then, if everything is aboard.” she said. “The Tirahnns won’t want to be kept waiting long - they’re antsy enough about our arrival as it is.”

“You don’t think there’ll be any trouble, will there?” said Ion, cautiously, but Dolora simply smiled.

“No fears, captain - if we are attacked, I’ll fight them off myself, how about that?”

Feeling somewhat relieved at the casual tone she took, Ion nodded. “Right, best speed for Tirahnn. Prepare for the jump to light-speed. Make sure your trays are in the upright position and your baggage is stored. We’re off.”

“Captain, we’re coming out of hyperspace.” said one of the bridge officers, and Captain Ion nodded in response.

“We’ve arrived, Dolora, which basically means our role in this is all but done. As you know, we can’t really do much beyond escort you around - we’re not negotiators.”

“Don’t worry so much.” said Dolora “I’ve been looking up information on these Tirahnns. They’re regular, Core-world type people - mostly human, a smattering of none-humans, and vast, urban populations. The big difference, I’d say, is less urban decay and crushing poverty, since this place is an excellent trade route and that really helps the local economy. Plenty of jobs and all that. What that means is I’ll have to deal with both a mercantile upper-class whose primary interest is the maintenace of the status quo of business, as well as a vast middle class concerned about increasing stability so their own prosperity won’t - I apologize, am I boring you captain?”

Ion snapped back to attention and said “No marm, not boring me at all. You were saying... um... something about jobs, and smatterings?”

Dolora sighed “I guess I really will have to do all the talking. Shall I send the port authority a message declaring our arrival, or can you handle that level of communication?”

Ion chuckled in response, and said “I’m sure we can handle everything up here, marm, you just go and make sure you’ve packed the right forks for whatever it is they eat down there.”

The captain returned to his duties, and looked over the shoulder of the Comm officer, awaiting a signal from the Tirahnn Port Authority. In the mean-time, Knight Dolora returned to her quarters to indeed make sure everything she would need was packed.

The Unmitigated Battlegroup came out of hyperspace near the edge of the system, a few more then a half dozen ships of various classifications but most prominently the Unmitigated itself. A gleaming new ship, it had not even begun to feel the wear of space, let alone enemy guns. Proudly, its’ oval frame cut a swath through the stary sky towards Tirahnn, various Longswords and other such support craft in its’ wake.

Finally, a voice came in over the comm-unit.

“This is Tirahnn Port Authority, you are requested to deactivate any offensive or defensive equipment you may have, and follow the coordinates we will transmit to you to enter a safe orbit of Tirahnn. You’re right on time.”

Ion grinned, and patted the comm-officer on the back. “Right, tell that guy we’ll turn off everything offensive we’ve got kicking around, and then relay the coordinates so we can speed this along.” With that, he returned to his chair for a while, before fidgeting out again and beginning to pace the bridge.

Curious civilian ships flew courses that took them close to the small Coalition fleet, to get a better look at the new arrivals. By comparison, they were quite a sight - far outclassing the handful of small port authority security ships that were barely larger then private freighters. Ion privately contained himself on how enjoyable the situation was, the chance to swoop in as though they were the most important people Tirahnn had ever seen - although this was hardly the case. Nevertheless, the experience was refreshing, and with a positively flourishing gesture, he tapped in the last few commands to bring the ship into position.

“All right, miss, we’re in position, you are cleared to proceed. Good luck down there, if you need anything - a refill for your fancy diplomat drink, perhaps - don’t hesitate to call.”

Dolora smiled from her seat aboard the shuttle preparing to launch. “I’m guessing he’s always like this?”

Captain Eisle looked up from the control panel, and said “What, Ion? Yeah, a real barrel of emotions, that guy. You’re lucky, that’s him when he’s feeling good and playful. On dark days, he can be a real downer.”

“A bit of a manic-depressive?” she said, curiously, but Eisle shook her head.

“I wouldn’t say that bad, just a bit of a roller coaster, you know what I mean?”

Dolora shrugged “Either way, we might as well launch.”

“Hm? Oh yeah! Launching. We’re doing that, right? Ok then.” She quickly cycled through the last-minute prep, and began the flight down to the surface.

The tiny shuttle broke off from the fleet now safely in orbit over Tirahnn, and made best possible speed for the surface. Even now, curious civilians flew as close as they dared to the unmoving Coalition ships, and Eisle had a bit of difficulty making her way through quickly forming ‘traffic’ amongst those interested to see the visitors. Nevertheless, she managed, and the last leg of the journey to Tirahnn began.

It really was just another Core-type world. From above, or right down on it’s streets, Tirahnn would be to anyone but the most observant and knowledgeable traveler nothing more then another overgrown urban jungle of a planet. The differences were subtle things, like the nature of the traffic that filled the air around Dolora’ shuttle, or the particular grade and level of repair of the architecture. These small tweaks made Tirahnn stand out somewhat, but in the end, the only things that differentiated this place from any other in the Core were not obvious to the naked eye. It was for such hidden reasons that the Coalition was there now.

The shuttle touched down without a hitch on an inviting landing pad, jutting out abruptly from the side of a mighty tower that dominated the skyline. A somewhat nervous delegation of local VIPs and other persons of note or function gathered in earnest, prepared for whatever might come at them from the inside of the ship. The little three-foot Bimm who did come out was not quite what they expected.

As they looked on for a brief moment in surprise, Dolora had her own chance to appraise them, and was not gladdened by what she saw. Uniforms, protocol, and guards all carried thickly the influence of the Empire which once held dominion over this world. She had a feeling it would be an uphill battle convincing this place to sign on with the Coalition, but banished such thoughts to focus on the task at hand.

“We of the ruling council of Tirahnn would like to extend our greetings to the representative of the galactic Coalition.” said an elderly man near the front of the delegation. Even his clothes granted him the title elderly, for they seemed as drab, dragging, and weary as he did. “I apologize that we could manage only a humble welcome for you, but you must understand that the scheduling of your visit was rather abrupt.”

Indeed, thought Dolora, for a man such as this there’s never a good time to be accepting visitors like her. She had the feeling the old man would have much preferred it if an Imperial delegation had come calling for their allegiance instead, but at least he had the grace to hear them out. Dolora bowed lightly and said. “Greetings to you as well, from the Coalition which I shall represent for the duration of my stay on Tirahnn. We have much business to discuss and relatively little time to do so - if you would be so kind as to accept our invitation for a meeting?”

The old man seemed satisfied that at least the correct protocol was being followed. “We graciously accept this invitation, and have made arrangements for such a meeting inside. Your entourage may-”

With that, the old man paused, for the briefest of moments his words were lost to him as he laid eyes on Eisle.

“Er... can it speak?”

“When I’m inclined to.” said Eisle stiffly. Dolora quickly interrupted the awkward moment.

“I’d be glad to accept any accommodations you may offer for the duration of our stay. May I enquire as to introductions?”

The old man returned his gaze to the Bimm and said “Although formal introductions will of course be made prior to the meeting, for now I may say that I am Councillor Darnaden, and with me are Councillor Laryn, Councillor Jeeves, and Councillor Marx.”

Dolora once again gave them a short bow. “I am Knight Dolora. May we now please enter?”

“But of course.”

The group were lead inside, past various official posts and historic marks. Dolora recieved a strange feeling from this place, it had a great deal of history as well as an unnatural amount of good fortune - it’s ideal position, perfect geography, and financial success having rarely if ever been interrupted for countless years. Everywhere was marked with the weight of this successful history - everywhere, that is, except for any form of security. Soldiers, bodyguards, and more were comparatively drab and unfurnished, probably because of the length of time the Empire had provided this service for them.

She also felt she was getting a measure on this council. As they were given what amounted to a guided tour of the historic tower from which the council ruled, Councillor Darnaden clearly stood out as the dominating figure, and he clearly stood out as a conservative, old-fashioned, and even somewhat ignorant old man. Despite his language skills and education, as an individual, he still showed discomfort around aliens and those who associate with them.

Nevertheless, she knew it was her duty to negotiate with this man - that is, when the official, formal, sanctioned meeting took place. Finally content that he had shown off every statue, painting, and artefact housed amongst the vaunted halls, Councillor Darnaden dropped off Dolora, Eisle, and their few aides into especially prepared quarters.

“So.” said Dolora, as they began unpacking the few things they’d need for the duration of their stay “What was your impression of Darnaden?”

“In short?” said Eisle “A fathead. That Marx, though, funny guy.”

“Really?” said Dolora “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh yeah. While the old fart was going on about how Kyrogal the fourth set down some code of laws or something, Marx was totally doing a dead-on impression of the old guy behind his back. You didn’t notice?”

“No, I guess I didn’t.” said Dolora “...I can see why you were chosen for a sensitive diplomatic mission, anyways.”

“Yeah, probably one of Regrad’s little jokes, sending an all-none-human crew to visit humans who don’t like none-humans. He seems to think if you throw people together like that, we all suddenly realize we have nothing to be afraid of and become friends.”

“Naive, would you say?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I guess he’s been right some times. Captain Ion came off as an uncontrolled lunatic the first time I met him, I applied for a transfer but got turned down. Now I know he’s just a little passionate, so I guess sometimes it helps. This Darnaden guy, though, he’s a complete racist. I don’t think we’re going to get along, and frankly I don’t think the Coalition needs him.”

“It does need Tirahnn, though.” said Dolora. Before their conversation could continue, a knock came at the door. Quizzically, Dolora opened it and came face to face with a white maid’s smock. Looking up, she saw that it was being worn by a sad looking twi’liek girl.

“Excuse me for the interruption, but we were to clean your room and unpack your belongings for you.”

Dolora looked around the room, only to find it spotless. “Um... I don’t think it really needs any cleaning.”

In the same monotone she had originally spoke with, the girl said “We must clean every room in the tower daily, wether they require it or not. It is our schedual.”

Dolora gave a midily uncomfortable look to Eisle, whose expression was inscrutable behind a curtain of tentacles. “Listen, how about we just let you sit in here and take a break? We don’t need any cleaning or unpacking help, but if you need to keep to a schedual you can just wait until you’re supposed to move on?”

There was a pause. “Yes miss.” she intoned, and the twi’lek and a young zabrack man - also in a cleaner’s outfit - entered the room and sat quietly in one corner, unmoving.

Eisle turned to look at Dolora “Personally? I think Tirahnn needs the Coalition. And soon.”

"I don't like doing this." said Ion, uneasily, to the viewscreen with which he was communicating with Dolora. "It's high level diplomatic stuff. Can't we just sign a treaty and leave?"


"The guy's an asshole." said Dolora, stiffly "I know I'm usually more tactful then that, but I would be failing my duties if I let this man any where near the Coalition, let alone it's House of Representatives. We've got a plan, but to do it we need Regrad's permission."

Ion still seemd anxious, and Dolora sighed. She stepped offscreen for a moment, and came back with Eisle - at least, Eisle leaned down to the screen, it was adjusted for a Bimm's height.

"Ion." she said, chidingly "Stop being a dick. Give her diplomatic access to the comm-system. She's sure as hell more diplomatic then you."

Ion let out a frustrated sigh, and fell back in his chair. Wretchedly, he said "Fine then, if it means that much to you I'll patch you through." With that, he tapped at the controls, and said "There."

On Dolora's screen, Captain Ion's face was replaced a few moments later by that of the Prime Minister. The Azguard always seemed to be completely composed - how did he do that? No time to speculate, however, as his eyebrows rose in curiosity. “Dolora, is it not? I take it something serious must have happened for you to be calling me directly, and yet I see no scimitar bombers tearing the city to pieces, nor are you being assaulted by a furious mob. What troubles you?”

Dolora offered the slightest of bows, and Eisle gave a wave. “Sir, I must request permission to do something decidedly... undiplomatic, for the good of the Coalition.”

Regrad didn’t respond immeadietly, then sighed, and said “What’s the problem?”

“The leader of this world... he’s... well, he’s an asshole, sir.” she said, cursing her inability to articulate in a conversation with one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. “A racist, a snob, pro-Empire, the whole thing. Not the sort of guy we want.”

“Ah, I see.” said Regrad, sighing somewhat and leaning back “So you want to kill him then?”

“Wait, what?” she said, stumbling. “No! Of course not!”

Regrad smiled “Good. Just checking. You wouldn’t call me with just a problem, though, I can tell you’ve already got a solution planned. Let’s hear it.”

“Well... There’s this other guy - Marx. He could take Darnaden’s place - that’s the guy we don’t like. Marx is younger, funnier, and clearly opposes Darnaden. Eisle even did some quick digging, looks like he’s got a history of helping the poor and getting jobs for aliens.”

“The sort of guy we do want then.” said Regrad. “But how do you plan to move one for the other?”

“Well, you know all those financial plans and incentives, the ones you got from that... benefactor? The trade routes, the bases - basically the whole reason we’re out here?”

“Yes, I do vaguely recall the entire reason we’re talking now.” said Regrad “Your plan involves these?”

“Yes, we could try and make it a condition - very subtly - that for these plans to go forwards, Marx would have to be put in charge. The other two council members are very mercenary, if we make it look profitable, they’ll do it. Marx’ll go for it to get rid of Darnaden. Darnaden seems otherwise impotent once his Council powers are gone.”

Regrad considered this for a long time, before finally nodding. “You may proceed. I look forwards to meeting Chancellor Marx, or whatever they’ll call him.”

With that, the meeting was over, and another one set to begin.

“If we do this wrong.” said Dolora “We’re going to have to get out of here pretty fast, I doubt we’ll be welcome.”

“I’ll keep the engine running, howsabout that?” said Eisle, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I better get going.”

With that, Dolora was lead to the meeting room, a beautiful room of carved wooden panels and flowing tapestries - a truly classical approach. The light clicking of her boots seemed to echo like a mighty cannon blast in the expectant silence, the four council-members of Tirahnn looking to the head of the table where she now stood.

“Gentlemen.” she began “The New Galactic Coalition would once again like to extend it’s thanks for accepting this invitation to meet, in the current hostile galactic climate we understand the sort of pressures many independent governments are feeling at this time, and hope at the end of this meeting we might convince you to join us in preserving independence throughout the galaxy.” A smooth segue, if she thought so herself.

“I have brought with me something that will be of chief interest to you, plans for a galactic trade route of epic proportions - one that puts Tirahnn back in the spotlight for a great deal of economic attention, as it once had long ago. The plans allow for bases to be constructed - with the aide of Coalition money - atop various moons in the system to allow for the quick and efficient categorization of trade, it includes plans to turn Tirahnn into the gateway between the introverted economies of the Outer Rim and the hungry, affluent markets of the Core. A nexus, from which riches from half the galaxy could flow through.”

She had their attention, the thought of such wealth obviously keeping them focused. Yes, Tirahnn might take pride in it’s peace and security, but they still hungered for the days of yore that had them not as another mundane world but as a jewel amongst the stars. It was that she had to play to.

“The Coalition contains a great deal of cultures, races, and people - this means there is a lot of opportunity for the advancement of technology, the improvement of the quality of life, the understanding of new ideas and concepts - Tirahnn can be the place where that will happen, a meeting grounds.”

It was already clear her speech was having just the effect she wanted. Darnadas was feeling less and less comfortable with the idea, wheras Marx felt more and moreso. The other two, however, were still fixated on the money. Time for the sucker-punch.

“All this can be yours and ours, this opportunity realized... And one of your own, Councillor Marx, would even receive the honor of serving as the chief Tirahnnian Representative to the House.”

There it was. It was lethal. That position basically marked him out as leader of the four, giving him more clout then all the old family connections Darnadas could scrounge. The old man nearly spluttered, and said “I don’t think we’ll be needing any of that. Tirahnn has been doing just fine until now and we can continue just fine without filthy alien plots to-”

“Now just hold on there...” said Marx, who managed to suppress a grin “I think this is a great chance to improve Tirahnn and the Galaxy at the same time. We’d be facilitating a process in which everybody benefits - what’s not to like? If I recall, this is the time when we put it to a vote.”

As the two other Councillors nodded vigorously, Darnaden realized he had been usurped. He said nothing, his face simply contorted in anger before he stormed out of the meeting. Dolora, pleased her plan had worked, suddenly felt a small, black ball of regret - but pushed it down for now.

“Excellent, so you’ll sign? Splendid. I foresee a great deal of business for Tirahnn in the future.” said Dolora, pleasantly, as she left. The whole signing procedure - even the official pictures - took less then an hour, before she was done. The rest would be handled by bureaucrats and clerks. Marx managed to find time to whisper thanks to Dolora, and offer a personal promise to make things better on Tirahnn - and offer reasonable coffee breaks and pay raises to the cleaning staff.

It was only when she was back aboard the shuttle, hurtling towards Ion and their way home, did she allow herself to examine her doubts.

Was it right to do what she had done - to manipulate? To change the fate of another country in your favor like that? Eisle noticed her concerned look, and said “Hey, don’t worry about it - the guy was an asshole, to treat people like that.”

In a weird way, that broke the spell of her doubts. “Crude though your metaphor is, it is accurate. Our job here is done, and we have made our difference.”

They arrived back on the Unmitigated with little fan-fare, although Ion was polite enough to greet them in person. “Aw, you missed me that much? Come here, you.” teased Eisle, who gave Ion the Quarren equivalent of a peck on the cheek - something that was much more tentacle-y then a peck was ever thought possible to be.

“So I take it the mission was a success?” said Ion, wiping... something... off his cheek with his captain’s uniform sleeve.

“Yes.” said Dolora confidently “I exercised godlike power in altering the fate of a world of countless people, the Coalition received an excellent economic staging ground, and the people of Tirahnn got a real, caring leader instead of... well, an asshole. It all worked out well.”

“And no marauding Imperial fleets for us to fend off.” said Ion, jokingly disappointed “Oh well, can’t have everything in life. Back home then, time to celebrate over drinks - such is the life of a Coalition diplomatic escort, after all.”

Elsewhere, Regrad coloured the world in orange on a galactic map he kept pinned in his office. Just one more speck in a massive, multi-colored galaxy of alliegances and chaos. Still, it was one more part, one more element of the plan. With Tirahnn came money, wealth, jobs, stability. Lives would be brightened, people would be enlightened. It wasn’t just another dot of colour, it was something... more. Something real. Whatever it was, Dolash set that aside for now, and went back to planning for the rest of the galaxy.