Captain d'Foose and Ambassador Droll exchanged looks. Their thoughts could not have been more poorly aligned.

The conversation had ranged between issues economic and military, though in truth the two were not separate from one another, and introduced the idea of an intra-Coalition stock exchange. Such an interplanetary market would change the insular economy of the Colonies drastically and be much harder to regulate then the limited, directed trade that Gestalt currently conducted with the Coalition Government, Contegorian Confederation and Stellar Enterprises. The current military exchange had been a boon for the people of Gestalt but opening portions of the Colonies to public investment would, or could cause any number of issues, problematic and beneficial, all of which would have to be ratified by the Colonial Government.

Ambassador Droll was staunchly opposed to such a proposal and his appearance said as much, he had squared his shoulders at the mention of such a thing and slumped visibly. His face was a mask of confounded aggravation.

Captain d'Foose, however, saw the potential promise of an open exchange. She chose not to display her interest visibly, but rather bide her time and bite her tongue until the time was right. Besides, she thought, Droll would be loud enough for both of them and it would be good for us to at least appear unified.

She was beginning to sense a change in the collective consciousness of Gestalt, apparent aboard her starship even. Prosperity would keep the Colonies cohesive for only so long. In adversity people tended towards two extremes; either to bond with one another more deeply, or find division amongst themselves.

Ambassador Droll represented the tradesmen of the Colonies. He had invested heavily in the Colonies, as had others, and it was because of their desire to control and participate in a stable economy that they had come from across the stars. These were not the rich elite of the Galaxy by any means, but they had been selected from a moderate demographic and encouraged to join up – find new investment opportunities in the Colonies. They lived high of the hog, but no so high that the move to Gestalt would leave them unfettered and, to a one, they were forced to sell off their external interests in favor of internal assets within the Colonies. Since the inception of Galactic Technologies and the formation of the Gestalt Colonies these people had found exactly what they were looking for and now wished to protect it. And it was for these very reasons Vice Commodore Shipwright had selected Droll to attend the summit and sent him with Captain d'Foose as escort; a woman with the good sense to present a unified front while always looking out for the needs of her people.

“Hold on,” put Droll.

“The idea of an intra-Coalition stock exchange has to be the most profoundly ignorant idea I’ve recently been privy too, and working so close with the Military,” he punctuated this by turning his iron stare over the assembled military delegations, which seemed to almost out number those representing civilian interests, “you can rest assured I’ve heard a great many.”

“The Colonies participate in highly restricted trade, we have no interest in opening ourselves to the weakness of other, more fragile economies. Certainly this market would be a boon to the less prosperous regions of the Coalition but it exposes the rest of us to their instability. If one market collapses then we all risk a shared, unified collapse.”

“How are we going to restrict this market? Who will be responsible for overseeing the conduct of those operating within the proposed market? What are the positives and negatives of establishing an intra-Coalition stock exchange? Where such an entity would be hosted? When would the Coalition propose to move ahead with this project? Why should any of the sub-factions wish to participate?”

“We of the Colonies prize our independent nature, economically speaking, and have no desire to be affected by the folly of a Galactic Coalition. We are taxed as it is with the continued aggression practiced by the Coalition against Imperial holdings. Our sale of military hardware, while increased, has suffered in an effort to continue to provide the Coalition with the assets it requires.”

“Before we discuss anything else, I believe there are important issues that need to be addressed before we can even begin to consider the questions I posed regarding such an exchange.”

Droll began counting digits on his left hand, “One; how can we consider establishing a new nation within the Coalition while the Coalition continues to practice mandates of aggression towards the Empire? Two; in establishing this new nation what will be the costs and benefits to the sub-factions of the Coalition whom it will fall upon to fund this expenditure? Three; what are the civil and military ramifications of developing a new nation within the Coalition? Four; what role with the Coalition Government, proper, play in this proposal? Five; what role will this new Western Nation play in the Coalition?”

Captain d'Foose placed a hand upon the portly mans shoulder and spoke up. “Ambassador Droll is correct in his observation that this proposal is fraught with complications that, at least from the Colonial perspective, that need to be addressed before we can commit ourselves to such an effort.”

With that she removed her hand and sat back to hear the opinions and replies of the others. By way of a private, subtle glance she turned her smile on Caleb Logan. Soundlessly she mouthed the words, “The man is an ass. Sorry.”

Caleb smiled at Droll. The Ambassador's face was turning quite red the more animated he became.

The young Logan stepped forward a bit to interject himself more into the conversation, "I believe that the our 'aggression' toward the Empire will be short lived. As far as our defending ourselves from their aggression, I cannot tell you how important our military is to us. How can we not defend ourselves, Ambassador?"

Before the Gestalt man could reply, Caleb held up his hand, "I am not finished."

"The costs, would of course be, time and money. But we are hardly creating something out of nothing. Our western worlds already have agreements between each other, and already do much business in their respective regions. The only thing we are doing is solidifying those mutual agreements and giving them an official charter. And I would not remind you that those worlds are all in favor of this proposal."


"And I believe we have already stated the objective of this deal. Unifying those worlds under one banner, one nation, and allowing them to develop themselves into a single, cohesive military and economic force will strengthen that side of our Coalition immeasurably.

"And this nation will be like any one of us. It will function under the Coalition charter, just like the Onyxian Commonwealth, The Confederation, and the Colonies."

He let out a big breath and smiled at the Gestalt Capitan on his arm.


(PS - Beff is the greatest, ever!)

Pro Moon moved one hand to massage his giant temples. All of a sudden the meeting had jumped the rails and could land anywhere. "People, please," the Cerean Prime Minister said. "These are all good questions, but if we're to make any progress we should be talking about the hows, not the whys. I should think the benefit of a new nation within the Coalition are self-explanitory - after all, if they're not, why bother having these talks?

"I'll agree to tabling the talk of a consolidated economic infrastructure for now if we can shift focus to what can be done to the west. The representative from Singsang has a valid point, though he seeks to hide it. What form will our new government take?"

Having (for the time being) brought the conversation back to the rails, Pro Moon gestured to the map of the West as displayed over the table. "The West has a great deal of diversity, so a strong central authority might be difficult to maintain. A parliamentary government might become too regional, while an appointed governor would face dissent from distant and powerless provinces."

The Prime Minister gave himself a slight smile as he savoured the challenge he was about to offer himself. "As a native of the region, I'd propose something to take advantage of our natural diversity - why not a structure designed as a mineature Coalition within a Coalition? A Western council made up of elder statesmen chosen by member worlds to govern in the same informal light as the Coalition's federal government?"

The Prime Minister returned to his seat and leaned back in it. Here was more comfortable territory. "It's low-cost, easy to manage and set up, and doesn't suffer from discontent caused by underrepresentation. It still produces regionalism as a by-product, but otherwise solid."

Yolem seemed to have developed another thought, and the rumbling as he moved in his chair signified this. "I have a question. Why make a Western nation at all? All you share is a border."

Pro Moon seemed a little surprised by the question, but recovered admirably. "It's true that the West is a diverse region. From the giant shopping planet that is Warmart to the living planet Emanon to the jungle planet Rattatak, there are few common threads. But territory and trade mean a lot, which is why I think this sort of informal council structure would work best - the distinctness of each planet's culture remains untouched, but our common trade, protection, and societal interests are preserved."

Yolem seemed satisfied, and leaned back into his chair. Pro Moon smiled, and turned to face the rest of the representatives. "The Coalition supports a great many kinds of nations, that have shaped a great many people. If there's anyone with the experience and combined wisdom to design a government structure, it's the people in this room. What do you think?"

The Past

Unnamed New Alliance Research Base


"Regent, please bend down and provide us with a retinal scan..."

Logan eyed the small piece of machinery that slid smoothly out of the wall to the left of the blast door, "Sure it's safe?" He asked apprehensively.

The security technician behind a foot-thick wall of blaster proof transparisteel, nodded emotionlessly, "Absolutely, sir. Please bend forward."

Casting a sideways look at Mahk and Ferus Neychev, Logan bent down and allowed the red laser to pass over his eyes several times, trying his best not to squint.

After a moment of consideration, the retinal device blinked green and the blast doors opened slowly. Logan couldn't help rubbing his eyes, it was pure reflex.

The group was greeted by an smiling older man in a white lab coat, and what Logan believed was blaster-resistant flexarmor, "Welcome Regent Logan! My name is Dr. Grigorin, and I am the lead researcher here."

The scientist offered his hand, which Logan accepted, "How has the testing gone?" The Regent asked.

"Well. So well in fact that I want you to see it." Grigorin responded enthusiastically.

Mahk shifted uneasily, and Logan sensed Neychev's apprehension as well, "I thought you were still having trouble with the prototype." He said.

"We were," Grigorin replied, "But a recent breakthrough has allowed us to modify the cerebral processor, which serves to erase the... behavioral problems the unit was having..."

"Behavioral problems?" Logan asked as Grigorin lead the group deeper into the restricted areas, toward the armor-plated test cell where the "Unit" was being kept.

"Yes. With the processor not working properly, the unit reverted to its basic programming, such as it's self-preservation protocols. It believed everyone was a threat, and... responded as such..." Grigorin said, his voice trailing off at the end with what Logan knew to be a hint of sadness.

Logan nodded soberly, "How many people did it kill?"

"Thirty seven...including some very close...colleagues."

Logan wondered what he meant by that, but decided not to ask. Grigorin seemed very touchy on the subject, and Logan knew it was best to leave it alone, "But you believe you have solved these problems?"

"Yes sir. With the new enhancements, the processor is performing perfectly, and the Unit as so far responded and obeyed all audio and visual commands, as well as some sent directly to it's main computer."

They were now walking toward a large square room, which despite it's size, somehow seemed small in the huge hangar-like facility they were in. The room had a single door, which looked like it had more armor plating than most Star Destroyers. There was no window.

"Is that it?" Logan asked, indicating the room.

"Yes sir. That is Test Cell One."

They turned to the left and made their way up a flight of stairs to what could only be described as a control room. Panels, consoles, and blinking lights everywhere, joined with dozens of holoscreens.

Grigorin took them over to one of those screens, and indicated the display, "Regent Logan, may I introduce Unit One."


The droid was more or less shaped like a human, perhaps a near-human. It was standing stock-straight, like a soldier at the position of attention. It was perhaps two meters tall, and looked almost like a regular protocol droid, with an unfinished-looking face, strange reddish eyes, and a gleaming silver outer body. Other than that, there was nothing about this droid that would suggest that a billion dollars of New Alliance money had been spent on it's concept, research, and finally, production.

Logan frowned, as did Captain Neychev. He turned back to Grigorin, who was beaming with pride, "Thats it?"

Grigorin nodded excitedly, "Yes sir. We just finished the coating today. The silver body shell looks just like any of the millions of droids out there, but this is some of the new self-replicating fiberweave reflective armor plating."

Logan frowned, "In Basic, Doctor."

Grigorin smiled as if he had been waiting his entire life to explain the armor, "It's self-replicating, so if the armor gets pitted by blasterfire or something else, it will rebuild and fully repair itself, provided it is supplied with enough fiberweave reserves. Once those reserves are depleted, then Unit One will begin taking damage. However, we have compensated for even this..."

Logan and everyone else present waited.

"We have created possibly the most agile droid soldier since General Grevious himself. Unit One can jump six to eight times higher than a normal human, and with the way the armor is built, he can attach himself to walls, ceilings... just about anything. So in order for the fiberweave to be depleted, he would have to be hit first."

Logan nodded, and continued to examine the droid, which to the naked eye, looked to be completely lifeless.

And as he did so, the droid turned it's head suddenly, and looked directly into the holocamera.

And Logan could have swore he saw it smile.




The Present


"Do you know what is going to happen next, Regent?"

The shadow was sitting at a small desk in a windowless room, and across from him was former Regent Joren Logan.

Logan looked like he was at death's door. His clothing was torn, his hair was long from months of being uncut. He had a beard that threatened to extend to the top of his chest if left unshaven. His eyes were downcast, and his body generally showed the unmistakable signs of torture.

The shadow, on the other hand, was well dressed, like always, in a tailored suit made out of shimmersilk. A rancor-skin jacket, and black nerfhide gloves completed the outfit.

The shadow's mouth was set to a cruel expression, as it had been ever since Logan had first seen him. His eyes were hidden in the darkness, as always.

Logan did not answer the initial question, and instead, just sat there, eyes down toward the ground, his face as blank as a master sabbacc player.

The shadow waiting a moment, before sighing softly, "The answer is, of course, you die."

Logan still remained silent.

"I grow tired of asking you this... this question that I have been asking for months now. This will be the last time."

He paused, as if expecting Logan to suddenly reveal everything.

"Where is the research base... that produced the war droid known as 'Unit One'?"

Logan seemed like he never heard anything, as if he could hear nothing.

The shadow sighed again, and nodded once, indicating that he had mentally washed his hands of the wretched human sitting in front of him. He stood up and walking to the door, and after inputting his password, he stepped through the doorway.

"You're sitting on it."

The shadow stopped. He did not turn around at first, as could have been expected. He just stood there, as if computing what he had just heard. After a long moment, he slowly turned around, "What did you say?"

"The base. You've been sitting on it all along." Logan said. The words seemed to be forced out, and truth be told, they were the first words he had spoken in three months.

The shadow retook his seat, and stared at Logan with suspicion, "What do you mean, sitting on it?"

"You speak as if you didn't know."

The shadow stared, trying to gauge Logan's intentions, "Excuse me?"

"You knew it was here on Ovise all along." Logan said, still not lifting his head, and continuing to stare at the ground.

The shadow smiled thinly, "And yet we are here."

"Why did you put me through all of that, then, if you already knew where the base, and thus Unit One, was?"

The shadow remained silent.

But Logan continued, "You were never sure of Unit One's existance, were you? Never sure if we actually built it, or just made up the ghostly rumor of development of an advanced war droid to place doubt in our then-enemies, the Rogue Empire."

The shadow placed his hands on the table, but allowed Logan to continue, "And you believed that if we really had developed and built it, that I would do everything in my power to prevent you from getting it. You wanted me to keep my mouth shut. And in turn, you have confirmed that Unit One did, in fact, exist."

The shadow spoke for the first time,"How did you know you were on Ovise One?"

"Did you want me to believe that some random civilization carved the caverns and tunnels? I founded the New Alliance, think I wouldn't recognize my own handpicked people's work?"

The shadow raised his hands, and clapped three times, "Congratulations. You are smarter than I thought you were. You figured this whole thing out."

"Theres more. There must be some reason for all of this. Why not just go in and see for yourself if it was truly in there? Why capture me to confirm it's existance?"

For the first time, Logan lifted his head and stared right into the eyes of the shadow, which seemed to slink back as if stung by a scorpion, "Because you can't get in to confirm it."

"The retinal scan is what got us, at first. Once we bypassed that, with great difficulty, we believed that we were home free. But the New Alliance really didn't want anyone who was not authorized to get into that facility."

The shadow smiled again, "I had to confirm that it was there before blowing the place up to get to that droid. There was no other way."

"That won't work." Logan said.

The shadow frowned, sensing he had lost control of the conversation. He tried to look confidant, but Logan just smiled slightly, "You just don't get it, do you? Do you have any idea what is keeping you out of there?"

"New Alliance safeguards probably. They are quite formidable."

"I'll get you in." Logan said.

The shadow frowned, "Why would you do that?"

"Because the droid was deactivated a long time ago. I doubt it is still functional."

"We can repair it."

"I doubt that. Nevertheless, the facility holds no value to me. Even if you obtain the droid, you will only be able to repair some of it's most basic functions. It will be a walking heap."

"We'll see. Get up, let's go get it."



***



The retinal scanner looked exactly like it head, years and years earlier, when he had first seen it. With the exception of some dust and debris, the whole entrance looked the same.

Logan leaned down and placed his chin in the holder, just like he had done all those years ago. But this time, there was no flinching, and no rubbing his eyes.

The blast door opened. The shadow smiled sadly,"It took us two months and thirteen of my best men to get through this door."

Logan ignored him.

A long hallway proceeded into the darkness. Logan knew there was one more door, this one more thick and unbreakable, waiting at the other end. The made it to the door in short order.

"This door requires me to punch in a security code." Logan said.

The shadow nodded, "We put in your code. We obtained it from some obscure New Alliance records that were only partially destroyed. The door won't open."

Logan knew that his old codes were among the highest kept secrets in the Old New Alliance military, and after the merger with the New Reoublic, they were kept locked away. After the Wrath Virus, the New Republic had destroyed all of their records as they abandoned Coruscant.

Apparently they didn't destroy everything.

"Yes, but what you don't know is this door was specially designed for my entry, and my entry only. It uses biometrics, and scans my brain as I enter the code. First, it confirms that it is me entering the code by a simply fingerprint scan, but what makes this door and security system unique is when it scans my brain, it looks for specific patterns to confirm that I am entering the code willingly."

The shadow seemed taken aback, "So it has to be entered of your own free will."

Logan nodded, "No coercion."

The shadow smiled, "Brilliant."

Logan turned, and entered the long code, which he had remembered for all these years.

With no fanfare, the door rumbled open. It was probably two meters thick, and had blast-resistant armor, confirming Joren's earlier statement that blasting the door would solve nothing.

The big cavern that was the research facility looked exactly as it had the last time Logan had been there. With research equipment everywhere, and some lights still blinking, confirming that most of the systems were merely on standby.

But something was different.



Bodies were strewn about, as if tossed around like rag dolls.


"Everywhere..." The shadow breathed.


They gingerly made their way over to the old control room above Test Cell One. The enforcers that accompanied the Shadow began reactivating the old monitors and holoscreens.

Logan stood slightly behind the shadow and the enforcers, his eyes glued to the old screens. The Shadow and his men leaned in closely as the main monitor switched on...


... and revealed an empty Test Cell.


Wheeling on the old man behind him, the Shadow delivered a sharp punch to the stomach, causing Logan to double over.

"Where is it, Logan?!?

Logan backed up, retreating toward the stairs. The Shadow moved forward and delivered a well-placed kick, sending Logan toppling down the stairs, and slamming him hard on the pavement of the cavern.

The Shadow slowly descended the stairs, "You lied to me, Logan. Somehow, and I don't know how, you lied to me. You made me believe the lie. The droid never existed! It was all a lie!"

Logan clutched his chest, and struggled to breathe.

The Shadow stared down at him with a mixture of contempt, and malice, "I have allowed this circus to go on long enough. You will now pay."

He pulled a vibrobladefrom a sheath in his sleeve and bent down, "Remember, Logan, we are all shadows."

He raised the blade...


...and in a movement faster than the naked eye, a sinewy, gray-skinned hand reached around, plucked the blade from the Shadow's hand, and plunged it into his heart.

Mahk's face looked like pure evil in the low light of the cavernous research facility.

Logan sat up, and watched the Noghri go to work. Displaying acrobatics unmatched by any other being Logan had ever seen, Mahk disposed of the rest of the enforces within a matter of seconds.

The Shadow was still alive, but was fading fast. Logan knelt down next to him, "I would like to introduce you to a special friend."

"Unit One. Step forward."

A two meter-tall droid stepped out of the darkness and stood before the dying Shadow.

"But... it didn't exist..."

Logan laughed, "Of course it did. But when our scientists devised the enhanced cerebral processor, they designed it with a wonderful element...

... you see, Unit One is programmed to obey one master at a time. But, in the event that that master is incapacitated, it will obey a secondary, which is appointed by the Master. Mahk did a wonderful job in that capacity."

The Shadow leaned back, lauhging and coughing up blood at the same time, "Logan... Logan..."

Joren leaned in.

"Remember..." The Shadow said, "We are all undying shadows... in a world of lights..."


And then he was gone.





Coalition Mon Calamari MC90 Cruiser Hexadragon - Imperial/Coalition Border Patrol (Moddell Sector)


Captain Buffooni leaned back into his chair, enjoying the beautiful view of the small nebula the Hexadragon was passing by.

Called "Bight Flower Nebula", it was one of the few enjoyable aspects in the life of the Border Patrol.

The Mon Cal cruiser was currently on a three-month deplyment rotation with several others in the fleet. The were tasked with patrolling the hyperlanes into Moddell, and watching for any Imperial aggression or activity.

But for the past two months, there had been none.

Quiet as a ghost.


"Captain... we are receiving an unusual signal from a planet nearby... Ovise One..."

Buffooni frowned. He had never heard of that planet, "What kind of unusual?"

"Old, kind sir. It's transmitting on an archaic frequency...old New Alliance channel."

Buffooni frowned, "New Alliance? What is it saying?"

"Distress call, sir."

Buffooni considered his options, his mandate was to patrol and be alert for Imperial activity, but if someone was hurt, the Coalition could not ignore it.

"Contact the Warfighter, have them take our station. Plot a course to this Ovise One...."

“A Coalition within the Coalition? There would be no point.” Chao pointed out from his seat, breaking his silence at the ludicrous concept. “As was pointed out by the diplomatic representatives from the Gestalt Colonies, some of our larger organizations refuse as to trade so tightly with one another. Why should we expect the same inhibitions that carry in the Coalition at large to not be carried to the West?”

Chao stood up, once again taking upon himself the firm appearance from before. He had some idea to sort this and put forth a strong foot to the galaxy of what the Coalition had intended. A representative government more power than the Republic. One that wouldn’t fall to the same slings and arrows of the Empire that the previous had caved into.

“To create a representative in the image of the Coalition, would be a waste of resources. We are supposed to represent a loose federation of planets dedicated to defending ourselves to those who would seek to take away our freedoms. But if we truly wish to make the west into a NATION we cannot have it so split as we.” The large Sinsangese man said as he eyed the gathering, trying to gauge their reaction. “I am Sinsangese. I am proud of my planet. I am proud of my people and their accomplishments.”

“But in a time passed, I was of the nation of Wi. And in an ancient time before that, I would be of the city-state of Hangdon.” He began to hear some muttering of the people as there were beginning to loose his point, but he pushed on regardless. “My point is this. Some of you were Valacarians who now see yourself as Onyxian. Some of you once saw yourself as so many things before what you are now. Some have changed from Republics, to Imperials, to wherever else you now sit in the galaxy. We need to build a strong back to the West to help them come to terms with their change.

We need to make the Westerners proud of what they are, and willing to put aside regionalism that would split the West and make it vulnerable to being turned upon itself. We don’t want them to have the same flaw that makes the greater Galactic Coalition vulnerable.

So, I propose a democratic system, based on majority rules. Simple, and straight forward. It also ensures the majority of the people of the west let their thought and opinion known. Further more, it needs a representation based assembly to help ensure that exploitation doesn’t begin to take place. A parliamentary system in all rights. A council based on population with a council based on planetary representation. Two screens to ensure the will of the people is obeyed.”

“There will be costs, but we are here to build a strong nation. Not to build a nation at cost.”

Chao sat as an uproar of the people he angered came and a couple of the diplomats from his group cast him a very wary gaze. He just insulted the integrity of the Coalition at one of their summits. But he felt it needed to be said. It wasn’t wise for the Coalition to go in blind ignorance of its Achilles Heel.

Pro Moon rubbed his chin, a sign of deep thought for him. He didn't like the sound of Chao's suggestion, but felt a debate on its' merits would drag on for hours. Best to change topics. "So..." he started. "We're at least talking about the politics problem - what sort of government we should have. But there's another problem we have yet to touch on..."

The graphical overlay of the Western Coalition suddenly lit up with green paths crisscrossin the screen. "Trade. Part of the reason to unite is economic. Easier trade regulations, unified dealings and resource management, that's standard stuff. Still, new trade routes, trade treaties, and reorganizing our suppliers and imports/exports need to be handled. Of course that's more work for bureaucrats than ambassadors, but if I recall, your people Chao are a great industrial society."

Pro Moon leaned back in his chair comfortably as he pointed at the map. "Most of the West lacks for strong industrial bases. Our population is only middling sized, much of it is not very advanced or established, really the export of our natural resources would be our best asset. Mayhaps there's room for trade between our people, eh?"

Once again, a rumbling from the far end of the table marked Yolem's return to the conversation. Pro Moon rolled his eyes and turned to the distant Azguardian. "What is it now, Yolem?"

"We're not getting anything done," the big Azguardian grumbled. He looked at Chao, and said "This one thinks we're undemocratic. The warrior from Onyx seems distracted, the man of the colonies argues needlessly with our purpose, and the Confederate, though I respect him for his prowess, seems over his head." Yolem crossed his arms. "You struggle to placate each delegation, and I will speak honestly and say I do not know all the issues we need to deal with to form a nation."

The ensuing awkward pause was just one in a series that had sprung up as each delegate had taken their turn upstaging and shocking the rest. Pro Moon felt a weariness kick in, but luckily he was saved by Ion who swept in.

"Sure, maybe that's true Yolem, but there's one issue we can all talk about." Ion glanced around the room a the rank insignias he saw members of each delegation wearing. "Let's be honest. It's what we're all most concerned about anyways - the military. The West's currently got a hodge-podge of ships and soldiers under a half-dozen commands. We consolidate that and the West can field a force as big as the East did in war-time." The clever Tynnian smiled at the various captains and commanders before him. "And we'd have a debt of gratitude to you guys for helping us out. Is that incentive enough to keep going?"

Yolem settled back down in his chair, his interest piqued. The attention of the conversation turned towards Ion briefly, attention which he used constructively. "First thing's first though, we'd need supplies, weapons, ships, and trainers. If each of you could supply instructors and organize weapons contracts from your own countries with ours, we could be up to galactic standard in no time. As for organization, there's plenty of local talent already, it's just a matter of putting it in order-"

"Something which the political body of the West could help with once we're established," said Pro Moon, slipping seemlessly back into form. "The captain is right. You are all military men - and women - so tell me, how does one build an army from a collection of soldiers and ships?"

"The captain is right. You are all military men - and women - so tell me, how does one build an army from a collection of soldiers and ships?"

The Pro-Consul wryly glanced at the Corise at the remark. He nodded. Most of us our military men. Though she did go through basic training like the rest of the Kashan people. He sighed. The joys of military unity heritage. Not that we have that anymore. The Kashan man gazed across the rest of the delegation.

“A collection of soldiers and ships is a military force, irregardless of the quality of the personnel or material. I have heard stories of the Western Province’s military. Building an army, building a navy from scratch is not what needs to be done. Expansion it is what is required; expansion from within the Western Province itself. This is not a task the rest of the member delegates of the Coalition can do for the Province. True, advisors can be sent, aid can be rendered, and that has been done in the past. However, there will be times when we, the other peoples of the Coalition, will not able to render the said aid because of…difficulties on our own fronts. Even that which has been given does not constitute a significant force which can stop, or even impede, a galactic superpower like the Empire, in my personal opinion.

There is an ancient saying popular among my people: You can fish for a man and give him two fish; or you can teach the man, and he will provide fish for himself for a lifetime. Obviously, the Western Province does not need fish, as far as I know of, but a better military. We, the other peoples of the Coalition, can teach the Western Province our ways. Captain Yolem mentioned this earlier. And we can send advisors to teach our brothers within the Western Province. I know that the Confederation will gladly send some of our instructors within our own academies to help train their people. It is my belief that there will be no shortcoming of this from other groups as well. There will be enough people within the Western Province for this planned military. There will be enough people to train them as well.

I believe the main dilemma currently facing the Western Province is a lack of war material, such as starships, to go with its personnel. Granted, any other standing military within our beloved Coalition can provide some ships for the Province, but there will never be enough. The Western Province needs to develop its own industrial capacity to produce its own ships, whether they be homegrown designs, or any other designs currently available. The Confederation is prepared to lend some of its building industry, which has helped enlarge our own war machine, to the people of the Western Province for this very purpose…”

In truth, d'Foose had ceased paying attention to the debate having discounted it as effete. She was, in fact, much more interested in the collegial Captain Caleb Logan and so much as made this evident by turning her gaze away from those speaking and, in stead, fixing her attention on the cut of his uniform and the shape of it around his chest arms, and dare she look, groin. The man was a paragon of male sex, or so she estimated, and the fact that he was accomplished militarily only served to further excite her imagination. The droll (excuse the pun) din of the political discussion held no interest for her and, in fact, bored her. This was not to say that she did not, nor could not appreciate the finer points of political maneuvering, it simply spoke to the generally self-possessed interests of the Colonial paradigm. Had the issue concerned Gestalt more directly, doubtless her words would be much more numerous and passionate. But they did not, and had the Ambassador anything to say about it, would not. Freed of her obligation to be attentive for the sake of something greater then herself, d'Foose decided that she would use the time that availed her to play with the Onyxian commander.

“Terribly boring,” she whispered in his ear, leaning on his shoulder to do so. Her hand perched on his thigh and so close did she come that her lips almost brushed his ear. “I can think of a dozen things I would rather be doing, from blasting raiders out of the stars to getting some serious sack time, or hitting the gym. Of course, combining all three; now that's where the real fun is.”

She giggled. She never giggled, but here she was, toying with a man she had only just met and giggling in the process. Delightfully out of character, the Colonial Captain found herself enjoying this unusual deviation from the norm. Of course, the Onyxian male was no stranger to female comforts either, and seemed to be aware of d'Foose and her advances. Playing at disinterest, he only encouraged her. She was amused and did not plan on giving up her only source of joy in this otherwise dismal setting.

Ambassador Droll was not so easily placated and, like his female counterpart, was none too eased by the prevalence of aliens in such close proximity. The Colonials practiced a strict Pro-Human sentiment that had, over time, discouraged aliens from trying to make their home among the people of Gestalt. Being presented with so many, having known so few, was making the man itch and causing his nerves to fire uncontrollably. At any moment, he expected, one of the savages would rip itself free of its clothing, clutch a weapon and lay ill of all of them, doubtless all the while brandishing its naked sex and hollering in languages as inhuman as their five-limbed appearances.

He had decided, long ago, that this was no place for a good Colonial man and that the issues discussed here would not benefit the future of the Colonies one iota and that, in fact, he feared the alien factions of the Coalition using this as a platform to gain a foothold on Gestalt. He would sooner be dammed then see such a thing come to pass. And so he would continue to sabotage their efforts where the Colonies were concerned until such time as those gathered either understood or chose for themselves that the people of Gestalt had no place in this Nation Building Wet Dream. When the discussion had legs under itself, and seemed intent upon beginning to demand resources and energies from the factions of the Coalition, Droll knew it was time to speak up.

“If the people of Singsang are a great industrial resource, then I am a monkeys uncle.”

This, it seemed, drew the appropriate response; everyone looked and gawked. Well, almost everyone...

“Why you have called us here,” he directed this at Pro Moon and his counterpart, Yolem. “I cannot begin to imagine.”

“The people of Gestalt have no desire to furnish this provincial dream with our hard earned surplus. We have no desire to see the wants of others, of inferior peoples, put before our own. We simply refuse. Now you speak of materials, of resources in the name of star ships and men, of those things needed to make war...”

He cast an ignominious glare around the room. “A nation of imperfection supported, founded and built on the labor of hard working men and women, who only desire for peace and quiet, when these supposed 'people' have not the gumption to see their own vision built, but seek to share in our prosper without, I might add, having given anything to deserve such. No.”

“No, the Colonies will give nothing. No, the Colonies will not help found another fallible sub-Nation within this, already corrupt and dwindling, Coalition of Planets. No.”

Everyone stared. Roused from her game, even Captain d'Foose tented her eyebrows and studied the man, hard. What he had said had not shocked her, it was the truth and every Colonial soul knew it, but it was the fact that he had made public the paranoid, isolationist perspective of the Colonies here, in such a public and open forum. However, d'Foose was no fool, she was not a chicken of spring. She acted fast...

“I guess that cat is out of the bag,” she winked at Caleb before turning her eyes, slowly from the Onyxian to the Kashan seated to her left, the Corise Lucerne, to whom she added. “You just can't take some people anywhere.”

((OOC: Please forgive any glaring mistakes. I've got a cold that's messing with my head but this thread BADLY needs a post. Come on GC, we aren't disbanded yet! :P))

The Military. Chao grimaced slightly when it was brought up and began to gain the focus. With so much work to be put forward to make the Sinsangese military modern and competitive in today’s political climate, he didn’t want to have to go into thinking of another. Besides, that was more the forte of Mao Han than he.

He knew the Sinsangese were in no position to offer any form of military backing to this operation nor training. They had the likes of the Azguardians and Onyxians who were more interested in soldiering than the Sinsangese. Chao was quite content as to sit and watch the military debate until he was roused.

“If the people of Singsang are a great industrial resource, then I am a monkeys uncle.” Came from a voice across the hall. The Colonial representative chose to insult the Sinsangese. But the Sinsangese had insulted the integrity of the Coalition first so it was all fair game. When the Confederation representative had finished Chao stood again.

“And it is this kind of bickering that is the weakness of the Coalition that we cannot allow to permeate this new province!” Chao nearly yelled, pounding his balled fist into his open palm. “The very same ‘corruption’ that has been spoken of by the Colonial representative.”

“And before we begin to even speak of soldiering…” Chao said, pausing for a half second as he eyed up the Azguardian who spoke earlier, “we need to devise a government to rule over it. There is nothing in the galaxy more dangerous than an army without strong political control or loyalty. It is something that could be exploited to the ill of any effort put into this endeavour by any of us.”

“Would you like it if you a military dictatorship sprouted from our labours? Something for Kaine and the INS to turn into yet ANOTHER stain on the façade of this organization?” Chao said, eyeing carefully the entire congregation. “We must tread carefully for we risk slitting our own throats if we continue to create mistakes such as this. Do not make the People of Sinsang regret their choice in faith.”


“But we do not control the West. Nor does ANYONE currently at this council. The West is all individual planets that have their own say and voices so until we have representatives from every planet reaching a consensus, every decision made at this council is by default undemocratic and against the charter of freedom this Coalition is based upon.” Chao continued, almost getting to the point of scolding though he caught himself soon enough as to not allow his tone to get too harsh.

“And so, until there is a legal decision on the formation of the government of this province, the Sinsangese will offer nothing above or beyond our agreed upon contracts.” Chao said firmly as he took his seat. “If this is reached, the Sinsangese are willing to open up to negotiations on material and compensation.”

The entire future of Sinsang and his political career depended on the Coalition. If it seemed weak, it made him see, weak and foolish for casting his lot with them. If it seemed strong, it made him seem wise in his choice. On the stormy seas of public opinion, it took a great skill to avoid capsizing.

With every twist and turn in the conversation, Pro Moon felt the meeting slipping away from him. Cracks were forming in the bonds holding together those members of the Coalition assembled, and even without the unusual senses of perception possessed by Cereans Pro Moon could tell that all hope of the West's unification was slipping rapidly down the drains of political infighting.

"Please, good people," said Pro Moon, his previously hopeful tone strained. "This meeting is supposed to be about bringing things together, not tearing them apart! We need to work together to-"

Pro Moon stopped. He'd just noticed that Yolem had gotten up. Eyes turned to the Azguardian leader. "What are you doing?"

Yolem was strapping his armour back on, piece by piece. The Azguardian nodded towards Chao before saying "He's right. Well, about one thing anyways; there's no need for this meeting. We're all going to do what we think is best, and that's all there is to it."

Panic seized the Prime Minister, who felt the ground shifting beneath his feet. "But how are we going to turn the West into a nation without coordinating? Without an action plan? Without help from the Coalition?"

"What do you expect us to do?" said Yolem, with a shrug. "The political stuff is your work, if you need money talk to Regrad."

Pro Moon was almost pleading now, as he continued to appeal to the Azguardians for their cooperation. "But we can't do this on our own! We need help!"

"Then we'll help," he replied. "In a manner of our choosing, however, and in our own ways." Yolem looked at the whole room before proceeding. "Listen, everyone, if we've learnt anything from all this, it's that we've all got our own goals, views, and ways of doing things, no surprises there. But I think we can help fix up the West and even the whole Coalition in our own ways, at our own pace, and not sitting around a table trying to ram square pegs through round holes."

He paused while affixing a gaundlet to look at Pro Moon. "Listen, we're not throwing you to the wolves here, and we've still benefitted a lot from this meeting. I don't think I've ever been more aware of who and what makes up the Coalition, and that's got to be worth something. We just aren't the sort of people who go around founding nations or following strict orders. We're more your friends and neighbours, so we're acting accordingly - call us when you want some heavy lifting done, don't ask us to design your house."

The Azguardian delegates got up to leave. A sense that the meeting was ending started to descend on events. At the door, Yolem turned and added "I was glad to come here today and meet some of you guys. Gods bless you for your work and for helping each other out, but really, let's just drop the act and start doing things our own way." With a nod to the host once more, Yolem and the Azguardians went out the door.

Pro Moon was devastated, his mind slowly considering the mountains of work that now lay before him. To save the floundering Prime Minister, captain Ion intervened. "Listen, everyone, I'd like to thank you all for coming out today for this meeting. We might not have accomplished much really, but we all had a chance to talk and that's something in itself. If any of you decide you do want to pitch in though, the Prime Minister's office will be open to any messages you want to send or other meetings you want to organize... even if the Prime Minister himself looks pretty catatonic right now."