The Past
"... hope for a better tomorrow. The League of Nations doesn't just represent that hope, it is that hope- the last and greatest hope this galaxy has. And that is why I have come here today: because I know in my heart that hope can conquer despair and overcome tragedy, because I know that capacity to hope can sustain fortitude in the face of overwhelming odds.
Because, sometimes, hope is all we have.
Ladies and gentlemen, assembled representative of this august body, I would like to formally submit my motion, asking that the League of Nations accept into its membership the Republic of Ukio, with a full understanding of the obligations and requirements such a motion entails.
It is my hope that you will pass such a motion."
The image of Hilter Afdol faded quickly to blackness, and the shimmering hologram dissipated.
Hilter turned his gaze to the only other being in the room, who turned his head to meet the Ukian Overliege's eyes. A moment passed, allowing for the smallest hint of tension to creep into the atmosphere of the small chamber.
Hilter shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head to the side, returning the aura of calm to the room.
"Not bad. Pretty good actually. Plus, we have plenty of time to work out the small tics and such."
The figure nodded.
"I still hate the sound of my own voice, but there isn't much I can do about that. It's just that the emphasis sounds all wrong, the stresses off slightly- out of synch from what I'm used to in my head- but that’s hardly noticeable to a casual observer. Overall, it's certainly an improvement."
The other man didn't react. Hilter gave him a minute, hoping that perhaps a moment to collect his thoughts (combined with the semi-awkward silence) might elicit a response, but none came.
Hilter wasn't going to let him of the hook that easily. The man worked for him, not the other way around. (Though to be sure, the chain of command was somewhat convoluted, but if you followed it long enough it would lead to Hilter.)
"You have to have something to say."
The figure stood up.
"You know what I have to say, so why do I need to waste the energy it takes to verbalize it?"
At that, it was Hilter's turn to nod. He was right, though the lack of dialogue made this entire process stifling. One way or another they had the same conversation, like God or the Force or what-ever-power-that-be was watching his own hologram recording after Hilter finished his analysis of the most recent recording.
I had to ask for a perfectionist.
"Alright. Let's go practice."
Present
One Month From [thread=10301]INS Press Release[/thread]
The space over Coruscant is always awe inspiring to travelers who gaze out upon it for the first time. Small vessels, personal fighters and shuttles, zip in and around the mammoth superfreighters, cruisers and space stations that are perpetually in orbit over the capital of the galaxy. Debris is everywhere, yet for some reason seems more majestic than trash has any right being. The surface of the planet itself provides an interesting backdrop- far from the majesty of say, the green continents and blue oceans of Corellia, but awe inspiring in its own right- a sea of gray and black punctuated by dull orange, bright yellow and several small splotches of numerous other colors.
Hilter Afdol had traveled to Coruscant several times, and yet despite his experience, he still peered out of the transparisteel bulkhead of the Ambassador class shuttle he traveled in during official state visits to take in the view.
Hilter watched the planet and its surrounding until they dropped out of his viewport, as Coruscant's traffic control vector ordered the vessel along a counterintuitive vector that seemed to angle the shuttle to arch over the planet.
Hilter took the opportunity to pour himself another glass of the rare Alderaanian wine he had found in one of the numerous refrigerator units that dotted the luscious interior of the shuttle's common lobby.
Coruscant control had safely direct in trillions of transports and the Ukian pilots were assigned to chauffer the Overliege were the finest the planet had to offer. Perhaps no the second coming of Han Solo, but confident, disciplined pilots more than handling a luxury shuttle's descent onto the largest ecumenopolis in the galaxy.
He did turn his head as the unmistakable profile of several TIE models (Defenders by the look of them) swooped in from the starboard (planetside) bow of the shuttle- a reflex he was glad that had surfaced now instead of on the planet's surface. As the fighter's settled into escort formation, Hilter took a long draught of the wine and willed himself to relax.
He had a speech to deliver.
A mission to complete.
An image to uphold.
The fact that there was a high probability that he would be arrested as he walked into the rotunda (or maybe even in the middle of that speech) wasn't helping matters.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. The Ukians would raise some serious shit if their duly selected leader (he grinned as phrase formed in his mind) was snatched on supposedly "neutral" territory while he was on a diplomatic mission.
No, the Empire was much more likely to simply grab him as he walked down the shuttle's off-ramp - or better yet, slip him some poison and call it a heart attack or hyperspace related complications... whatever the hell the INS thought they could most effectively spin.
As that thought failed to assuage his fears, he downed the remainder of his glass and poured himself another.
Might as well enjoy the luxury while it lasted.
He chuckled, his mind drifting to the thoughts of the other man who had stood with him in that recording studio, and to what he might say if he saw him drink another glass.
The thought lightened his spirit as the shuttle's vector changed, framing the rapidly growing sphere of Imperial Center square in the middle of the shuttle's viewport...
"... hope for a better tomorrow. The League of Nations doesn't just represent that hope, it is that hope- the last and greatest hope this galaxy has. And that is why I have come here today: because I know in my heart that hope can conquer despair and overcome tragedy, because I know that capacity to hope can sustain fortitude in the face of overwhelming odds.
Because, sometimes, hope is all we have.
Ladies and gentlemen, assembled representative of this august body, I would like to formally submit my motion, asking that the League of Nations accept into its membership the Republic of Ukio, with a full understanding of the obligations and requirements such a motion entails.
It is my hope that you will pass such a motion."
The image of Hilter Afdol faded quickly to blackness, and the shimmering hologram dissipated.
Hilter turned his gaze to the only other being in the room, who turned his head to meet the Ukian Overliege's eyes. A moment passed, allowing for the smallest hint of tension to creep into the atmosphere of the small chamber.
Hilter shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head to the side, returning the aura of calm to the room.
"Not bad. Pretty good actually. Plus, we have plenty of time to work out the small tics and such."
The figure nodded.
"I still hate the sound of my own voice, but there isn't much I can do about that. It's just that the emphasis sounds all wrong, the stresses off slightly- out of synch from what I'm used to in my head- but that’s hardly noticeable to a casual observer. Overall, it's certainly an improvement."
The other man didn't react. Hilter gave him a minute, hoping that perhaps a moment to collect his thoughts (combined with the semi-awkward silence) might elicit a response, but none came.
Hilter wasn't going to let him of the hook that easily. The man worked for him, not the other way around. (Though to be sure, the chain of command was somewhat convoluted, but if you followed it long enough it would lead to Hilter.)
"You have to have something to say."
The figure stood up.
"You know what I have to say, so why do I need to waste the energy it takes to verbalize it?"
At that, it was Hilter's turn to nod. He was right, though the lack of dialogue made this entire process stifling. One way or another they had the same conversation, like God or the Force or what-ever-power-that-be was watching his own hologram recording after Hilter finished his analysis of the most recent recording.
I had to ask for a perfectionist.
"Alright. Let's go practice."
Present
One Month From [thread=10301]INS Press Release[/thread]
The space over Coruscant is always awe inspiring to travelers who gaze out upon it for the first time. Small vessels, personal fighters and shuttles, zip in and around the mammoth superfreighters, cruisers and space stations that are perpetually in orbit over the capital of the galaxy. Debris is everywhere, yet for some reason seems more majestic than trash has any right being. The surface of the planet itself provides an interesting backdrop- far from the majesty of say, the green continents and blue oceans of Corellia, but awe inspiring in its own right- a sea of gray and black punctuated by dull orange, bright yellow and several small splotches of numerous other colors.
Hilter Afdol had traveled to Coruscant several times, and yet despite his experience, he still peered out of the transparisteel bulkhead of the Ambassador class shuttle he traveled in during official state visits to take in the view.
Hilter watched the planet and its surrounding until they dropped out of his viewport, as Coruscant's traffic control vector ordered the vessel along a counterintuitive vector that seemed to angle the shuttle to arch over the planet.
Hilter took the opportunity to pour himself another glass of the rare Alderaanian wine he had found in one of the numerous refrigerator units that dotted the luscious interior of the shuttle's common lobby.
Coruscant control had safely direct in trillions of transports and the Ukian pilots were assigned to chauffer the Overliege were the finest the planet had to offer. Perhaps no the second coming of Han Solo, but confident, disciplined pilots more than handling a luxury shuttle's descent onto the largest ecumenopolis in the galaxy.
He did turn his head as the unmistakable profile of several TIE models (Defenders by the look of them) swooped in from the starboard (planetside) bow of the shuttle- a reflex he was glad that had surfaced now instead of on the planet's surface. As the fighter's settled into escort formation, Hilter took a long draught of the wine and willed himself to relax.
He had a speech to deliver.
A mission to complete.
An image to uphold.
The fact that there was a high probability that he would be arrested as he walked into the rotunda (or maybe even in the middle of that speech) wasn't helping matters.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. The Ukians would raise some serious shit if their duly selected leader (he grinned as phrase formed in his mind) was snatched on supposedly "neutral" territory while he was on a diplomatic mission.
No, the Empire was much more likely to simply grab him as he walked down the shuttle's off-ramp - or better yet, slip him some poison and call it a heart attack or hyperspace related complications... whatever the hell the INS thought they could most effectively spin.
As that thought failed to assuage his fears, he downed the remainder of his glass and poured himself another.
Might as well enjoy the luxury while it lasted.
He chuckled, his mind drifting to the thoughts of the other man who had stood with him in that recording studio, and to what he might say if he saw him drink another glass.
The thought lightened his spirit as the shuttle's vector changed, framing the rapidly growing sphere of Imperial Center square in the middle of the shuttle's viewport...