Coruscanti Dusk

Posted on Wed Jul 11th, 2018 @ 7:04pm by Jundal Quellus & Octavus Paralles & Rynseh Lahan & Damask Hul

2,986 words; about a 15 minute read

Chapter: Chapter V: Unbound
Location: Supreme Chancellor's Office, Coruscant
Timeline: Concurrent with Vaa
Tags: painting, office, Paralles, Grand Proclamation, Bith, Valaha, Togorian, Togoria, InterGalactic Banking Clan, IGBC, Junun Waay

Octavus Paralles was a tired man.

With his elbows digging into the sleek, curved black table that dominated the relatively spacious office suite, the Supreme Chancellor raised a weary hand to massage the bridge of his nose. As he did so, he noticed, not for the first time, the grooves that now ran beneath his eyes and around his once youthful face.

It was a face that had smiled so easily until recently, that had won the hearts and minds of countless billions across the galaxy in two Chancery elections, and had even earned him the attention of a good few admirers in years past. Now, however, his smooth features had given way to worry lines and creases that had not existed just three years ago, and his thick brown hair had surrendered entirely now to silvery white.

Whilst it made him appear distinguished, as both his Chief of Staff and beloved wife frequently reminded him, he felt it made him look old. Although that was not necessarily a bad thing for a statesman, Paralles hated it. Dying was his vim and vigour, yet he had so much more he desired to accomplish - that he had to accomplish.

Equally, there were so many foes and opportunists seeking to undermine him, to keep him and those who wanted to build a prosperous and united future for the Third Republic from doing so, who wanted to keep the galaxy divided and slave to petty insecurities and old-fashioned. For the past six standard years, he had toiled daily to emancipate each and every sentient being under his care; under his watchful and enlightened leadership, people could be the people they wanted to be, without fear of recrimination from the cynics and unenlightened. The government existed only to protect those rights, whilst business was free to flourish and bring advancement to all. Through sponsors such as GalactaWerks and other civic-minded corporations, technology was entering a new age of unprecedented growth – particularly after centuries of self-evident stagnation.

He knew what the critics said, however. Of how he was controlled by the very-same organisations, of how they pulled his strings and whispered in his ear. None of that was true, of course, Paralles knew. These corporations had always existed in the galaxy, in various shapes and forms. Only now, through him and his allies within the Coalition, their ambition was given form through his policies, making good their responsibilities to all denizens of the galaxy. Corporations restored war-ravaged worlds. Companies built hospitals and the state-of-the-art droids that staffed it, and numerous other institutions. These organisations even removed the need for conscripts and armadas, doing their part to defend the well-deserving public-at-large.

Even the Outer Rim Alliance was prospering, in spite of all of their hardships – hardships Paralles had committed himself to lessening, doing his best to support a policy of repatriation and apologism.

Then why, he thought, gritting his teeth in frustration, do they insist on confounding me at every other turn?

Both hands had now found their way up to the temples on his head, rubbing hard in vain to ease whatever politically-induced stress they could. His eyes wandered down to the flimsiplast sheet resting on his desk. Fine Aurebesh print detailed the day’s defeat in the Senate for his most recent motion, listing the principle figures whom had opposed the bill, as well as other related data.

Paralles’ eyes were then drawn upwards by the sound of footfalls in the corridors beyond his main office. The Chancellor pushed the flimsi aside, knowing full well whom to expect. He rose from his chair, stroking away any rumples in his fine blue gown of state, which itself was paler in colour to the rich blue décor of the walls and other artisanal choices that typified the head of state’s official residences and offices, being the standard banner colour of the Third Galactic Republic and its democratically-elected leader.

Marking the path the newcomer was now taking were several bronzium busts, the most predominant being that of Valaha – the first Supreme Chancellor of the Third Republic, a Bith and the first being to hold the title since Palpatine had abolished it some centuries before – and Junun Waay, the Chevin Grand Master of the Reborn Jedi Order who had restructured and restored the monastic order back into favour after years of feebling obscurity. Also scattered about were various pieces of artwork from throughout the galaxy, chosen by successive Supreme Chancellors and added to by other figures of state via gifts and other gestures to the office.

Paralles had only added one Togrutan tapestry gifted to him by Jundal Quellus upon his second election victory two years prior, and had not replaced any other objects already present when he took possession of the office. Not for the first time, the Human politician wondered if there was some great vault beneath the towering building containing all of the cast away pieces over the centuries owned by the chancellors of old. Eyeing a landscape impressionist’s take on the Battle of Togoria – a particularly unpleasant but Republic victory during the Second Outer Rim Conflict – which Paralles found especially distasteful, he wondered if he could send it to that theoretical vault.

“I’m presuming you were responsible for that embarrassment?” Paralles greeted the Speaker of the Senate without walking around his desk to engage with the Duros, thinly-veiled contempt punctuating his polite tone.

He had never hated his political partner, a necessity courtesy of their two factions failing to gain any majority within the Senate, but there were undoubtedly times he was certain Damask Hul was committed to undermining the government’s every attempt at policy, rather than finding a healthy compromise. Although from the Centrality’s point of view, Paralles was sure that they considered their political alliance in itself a compromise.

Kriffing hardliners, the Alderaanian grimaced internally.

Paralles was not immediately met with a reply. Instead, he watched in his peripheral vision as his cyan-skinned visitor paced over towards the painting he himself had been eyeing a moment ago. The newcomer let out a pondering sigh, which echoed in the low almost-metallic tone of the Duros vocal range.

The man’s dark red eyes absorbed the images of multicoloured laserfire over great plains painted with great detail within the frame, with Togorian warriors depicted like bestial savages facing against strong armour-clad soldiers, who held a firm line against the marauders. While many grand buildings still stood in the background, the reality had been much different, with images of torched cities and settlements shown freely on the HoloNet, to demonstrate how quickly and devastatingly a Mid-Rim planet that chose to fall in with the Outer Rim Alliance could be subjugated. It was the sort of demoralising propaganda many of the Duros’ colleagues in the Intelligence Office were involved in spreading throughout the ORA planets as well as their sympathisers.

Brutal but effective, he thought to himself.

“This is the problem, Octavus,” Damask Hul finally spoke, addressing the chancellor by his given name, “You put too much personal pride into this fight. An ‘embarrassment’, you say, to lose a vote in the Senate. Pah, the real embarrassment is sulking here away from it all. But, then again, you are not really in the business of politics, are you? Your job is to maintain this grand illusion of a free Republic and keep everyone in line with that Golden Waayist ideal, am I right?”

Before Paralles could get a word in, Hul waved a hand in the air, dismissing all of his accusations like they were merely flies in the air and brought his other hand out from behind his back to reveal a thin datapad, “Anyway, I know you don’t want to talk about all that again. Let’s save it for the next unpleasant Senators’ Gala Dinner. What I do have for you is the authorisation document for today’s bill. It needs your print so I wanted to personally ensure that you received it.”

"Hmph." Paralles eyed the Speaker of the Senate with quietly disdainful eyes for a few moments, before finally reaching forward to clasp the datapad between his index finger and thumb, its specially-designed screen immediately sampling both his thumb's print and his genetic code for confirmation as a slither of white light shimmered up and down the digit. After just a second, it beeped in approval, and Paralles immediately released the device, still leaving it held firmly in Hul's thin hand.

"How many times need I remind you that we are allies, Damask?" The chancellor then said, his tone losing its edge and becoming something more akin to an exhausted plea to the Duros' better nature. "At this most crucial time, it is important that we give our people something to hope for - to believe in. If we really want to have a unified Republic, then don't you think we should at least show more solidarity in the Senate? If our two factions can work together in the Rotunda, then there's no reason why the people out there - the ones who truly matter - cannot do the same."

Paralles reclaimed his chair as he spoke, gesturing for Damask to take the one on the opposite side of his desk, although it was always variable whether the militant vice chancellor would claim it during their meetings. He knew that his pleas, as they had in the past, usually had little to no effect on his political partner, and he shelved the impassioned, if simplistic, overture.

Whilst he knew the pair would never see eye-to-eye, given their vastly divergent philosophies, it had always been Paralles' hope that their shared love for the Third Republic and desire to see it prosper would overcome petty rivalries and the minutiae of doctrine, that their pragmatic alliance would bring divergent policies together for the betterment of all. It had also been the former senator of New Alderaan's desire to use the alliance to quell any further rebellions from the Centrality, whose meteoric rise had become quite alarming for the chancellor and the Coalition, entirely shifting the political makeup of the Senate in a very short space of time.

Certainly, his decision to forge the alliance with Damask and the Centrality had been derided by his own supporters and numerous other political pundits during his tenure, but even now - in his fatherly heart - he new it had been the right, moral, thing to do. Unity was what an ailing galaxy needed after such a destructive conflict.

"You supported me with the InterGalactic Banking Clan," the chancellor then added with an optimistic tone, managing to find a kindly smile for the Duros as he brought up one of their few joint victories within the Senate - one that Paralles had felt had truly actually achieved some good in the galaxy, and had been a fine public image for them both.

In truth, Damask Hul and his allies had actually been incredibly effective at keeping control over the Senate during prolonged engagements, quelling misconduct and keeping unruly independent senators in line, especially those of the Outer Rim Alliance. Under Hul's tenure as speaker, debate had become more streamlined and fewer people challenged the Chair outright - save for when the Centrality was busy scuppering Paralles' best laid plans themselves, of course.

Damask opened his jacket and slipped the wafer-thin pad into an internal pocket before taking the seat offered, although sitting slightly sideways with his legs crossed, as though he was determined to break the formality of the arrangement, “Only with my allies am I so candid,” he stated, with a seriousness in his tone, “You and I are in a position to make great strides for all the important individuals you mention out there and I will continue to work with you to ensure that they do not have to answer to fat cats or corporations who couldn’t care less about the man on the average speeder bus out there.”

The former agent gave the human a sharp glance, taking in his weathered features, suited up in his fine senatorial garb, “That is why I fought with you against the Banking Clan and all the others who want to claw at the wheel of democracy; because you see as clear as I what that would mean to the people and the precedent it would create for others. That is why I find it so infuriating that you have this blind spot, this unexplainable weakness when it comes to GalactaWerks.”

Paralles' eyes narrowed marginally, flickering just enough for the vice chancellor's own keen and trained eyes to notice, the Human very much wearing an expression that said, Ah, this conversation again.

Damask moved in and perched his elbows on the desk, clasping his hands together to form a point, “Every bill that relates to their territory rights or regulation gets no opposition from the Coalition senators and I have to wonder why. The GalactaWerks Marines were key in supporting us during the Outer Rim Conflicts, but that partnership should have ended there and it is getting to the point where it seems as though the Republic exists at GalactaWerk’s pleasure, not the other way around. It…”

Breaking his arms apart and swivelling around, Damask listened towards the door for a moment before turning back, somewhat disheartened that his monologue had been interrupted, “Are you expecting any more guests?”

The chancellor did not need to answer the question, as the sound of footsteps echoed along the plushly-decorated corridor into the office. To Paralles' ears, they were familiar, and entirely unlike those of Damask Hul; they were practised, like the Duros', but considered, slower and taken with more grace.

Paralles smiled warmly as Jundal Quellus stepped through the archway and into the office, the Chagrian quite resplendent in his own regal finery. Although a silky tunic that resembled the traditional clothing of the Jedi Order hung beneath his attire, the rest of the Jedi Master was clad in gold-and-crimson robes of the finest craftsmanship, tailored perfectly to his tall frame. Sparkling gold-lined embroidery accented the edges of his outermost robe, whilst a black pattern was weaved tastefully alongside it, and a few fist-sized amber gemstones that had somehow been sewn into the base of the robe glinted dully in the lighting of the office.

Statuesque and garbed as he was, the Grand Master of the Reborn Jedi looked more akin to a senator than the venerated and wise leader of a monastic order. And with the way he carried himself and was viewed by others, that was very possibly the case.

"It is good to see you, Jundal," Paralles greeted his friend, jumping up from his chair quickly and navigated around his desk with ease to clasp the Chagrian both by his forearm with one hand and his bicep with the other, a gesture the Jedi returned.

"Octavus," the blue-skinned man replied kindly in his deep voice, returning the chancellor's smile with a smaller one of his own. He only seemed to notice the other man in the room after releasing Paralles' own arm. "Speaker Hul," he acknowledged Damask with a professional curt nod. "I trust I am not disturbing anything too serious; your aide said that you were available."

Damask smirked at how he always managed to evade Paralles' secretarial staff on his visits, "Everything important has been dealt with, Grand Master. He's all yours."

"I always have time for an old friend," Paralles said, brushing the Jedi's presumably-faux concern to one side with a wave of his hand. He indicated to the spare chair besides Damask's as began walking back behind his desk. Although he gestured towards a nearby bottle for Quellus, the Chagrian waved the suggestion away with his own hand. "The vice chancellor was just making a few comments about what happened in the Senate today."

That seemed to spark some sort of reminder in Quellus, who then leaned forward, concern immediately creasing his heavy, aged brow. "Yes, I was terribly saddened to hear of the bill's defeat today. If there is anything you need from me or the Order, Octavus, you need merely ask. Yours is a great burden, and the Jedi stand ever ready to support you during these hard times."

Holding back his urge to scoff at the Grand Master’s definition of ‘hard times’, Damask instead offered a subdued cough into his fist, “Hmm, yes. Well, the political field has its ups and downs but we will always try to act in the best interest of our constituents. You can be assured that many of us still want to make a difference in the Republic.”

Suddenly finding the seat uncomfortable, Hul stood up next to Quellus. At his full height, he still seemed a miniscule figure next to the imposing Chagrian Force Master. Instead of attempting to bolster his height, he simply leant against the back of the chair, “But I suppose you were hoping for a personal meeting with the Supreme Chancellor and I was only here on paperwork duty so, if you’re not needing me, I will head home for the evening.”

Whilst Quellus merely glowered at the Duros with a near-mocking smile, so well disguised so as to be only visible to the diminutive politician and not to Paralles, the chancellor himself inclined his head politely.

"Of course, Damask," he said, his voice actually sincere, despite their earlier (and typical) political clash. "Have a good night."

When the office doors opened for Hul on his way out, there stood in his way the broad form of a man under a dark red hood and robes that--as far as Hul had known until that point--was supposed to be dead.

TBC

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