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King’s Pawn – Prologue


Coruscant. A veritable jungle of fabricated metal, a dark sea of seemingly blind existence. As he stood on the lonely balcony high above most of the world that had overgrown its own limits, Lon contemplated his own part in all of it. His eyes locked on one of the sky cars impatiently weaving its way through the lanes of traffic, following it until it disappeared around one of the large towers that made up his view of the skyline. Tomorrow his life would change. Most definitely for the better, but change nevertheless. He had been born for change, in fact in most cases to instigate change, but this went beyond his own reasoning. No longer could he survive without being with his Amari, and he was sure he would not want to even if he could.

He smiled deeply to himself as her lovely face crossed his thoughts. It was fruitless to attempt to deny it. This was destiny, and no greater a destiny could he create for himself than this. Tomorrow he would take his place in her heart, at her side, and in her home. He had spent his life dedicated to negotiating peace, and building relationships between worlds, but these last few months of relationship building with Amari was the pinnacle of all his achievements thus far.

Lon suddenly became anxious to get down to the spaceport a few levels down, where his brother Garm was waiting with one of their government’s stately luxury cruisers, much the better for their trip back to Corellia. He turned back toward his Ambassador’s Suite and spotted the little red and white bullet-headed astromech waiting patiently. “Come, Clocks, you know how Garm’s patience is these days.”





An hour or so into the return trip to Corellia, Senator Garm Bel Iblis reappeared from the command cabin of the vessel, and took a seat opposite the holo-chess table from his younger brother. “Move over Clocks, I’m sure you’ve given Lon a good enough beating for me to finish him off now.” The droid’s only reply was an indignant-sounding gurgle.

“So,” chided Garm, “Tomorrow you become an official member of the very wealthy Tredith family.” Lon rolled his eyes as he moved the Strider piece in to grapple with his opponent’s Molator. Garm continued, seemingly unphased as the mauling went on, “Our agenda for this little jaunt to Coruscant went fairly well by most standards I think, though it does make me wonder why some of the senators do not seem all that concerned about the Trade Federation’s less-than-obvious build up of forces as of late. I’m sure it’s probably nothing, but we should send Oklin back to Coruscant to keep an eye on things after your blessed event is over with.” Before his Molator had hit the board in a dead heap, Garm directed his K'lor'slug in behind the attacking Strider. “That is,” he continued, “while you two love-mynocks are off gallivanting across the galaxy.” After assessing the condition of his doomed position on the board, Lon looked at Clocks with disgust as the droid gave his impression of a chuckle. “Traitor,” he retorted, and punched the power button and the holo-creatures dissolved.

Garm rose in quiet satisfaction and moved to the viewing panel to watch the swirl of blue-hued light engulfing the ship. “I must say Lon, you should be quite proud of yourself.” Glancing over his shoulder at Lon to emphasize his sincere tone, “With this marriage to Amari Tredith, you’ve secured quite a promising future for you both. It’s a joining that does honor both to you and to the rest of our family. I’m very proud of you.”

Lon nodded as his older brother glanced back again in his direction. Though he knew his brother’s sincerity was heartfelt, he also knew Garm would never understand the motives of his choice. Marrying for love was something most politicians of Corellia could never even fathom. He smiled inwardly at his fortune as he rose to join Garm at the view port and rested his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Thank you Garm.”


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In a Corellian garden, in the outlying wealthy section of the city Coronet, a father sits with his daughter. Amari waits silently, a content smile on her elegant face, only distantly focusing on the small flower she spins between her fingers. Grakus Tredith sits also silent, watching two nesting laris birds with both sadness and joy, neither father nor daughter willing to break the content quiet. Both want to hold on to these last moments of feigned innocence as if pretending they will never end.

With a cautious glance, Amari finds her father’s gaze now resting on her, with watery eyes that have not yet culminated to tears. After a few seconds of searching each other’s eyes, Grakus ventures, “Is he as good for you as I am?”

Her reply pleases him, “A close second, father,” smiling warmly. The tears are no longer held back, but flowing freely down the old man’s face. “But I love him,” she adds.

At that moment, she looks past her father to find a young man standing patiently just inside the entrance of the garden, on the other side of the large fountain that sits bubbling in the center of the serenity surrounding it. As he is noticed, he clears his throat and starts forward smiling warmly at the two seated figures. Amari rises to greet him. “Oklin! How are you? So good of you to come.”

“Forgive me for interrupting, but Senator Bel Iblis sent me ahead to invite your household to dine with him to honor tomorrow’s… festivities. He’ll be arriving in-system with Ambassador Bel Iblis later this evening. They sent word just as they were leaving Coruscant.”
Amari beams at this invitation, but it is Grakus who replies first, “Wonderful! We would be honored. Any time spent with my new son-in-law’s family is time well spent. Make arrangements with my head-servant as you go Oklin, and tell him to arrange a gift for the Senator as well.”

“As you wish, sir.” Oklin nods to the old man, and turns a quick glance toward Amari. She is not sure, but she thinks she sees an odd expression in his eyes just before he turns and walks away. Her father breaks this train of thought and takes her arm, “Come dear, you should rest yourself before tonight.”

As she lounges restlessly, she thinks again of Oklin, the young, but ambitious, assistant of Lon’s who she has known nearly as long as she has known Lon himself. He was always kind and extremely helpful, and almost always present or somewhere very near while she was with Lon. Lon had told her once that Oklin was his dearest friend, and will probably take his position as Ambassador to Coruscant if and when he moves on to something else. She is sure she will get to know Oklin well in the coming months.

A while later, as Amari finishes dressing, there is a buzz at the door and it slides open allowing the head-servant to enter. “Mistress Amari, Oklin Newbius has sent his shuttle car, and it is waiting at the front.”

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"Perhaps the sentiments contained in the following pages, are not yet sufficiently fashionable to procure them general favor; a long habit of not thinking a thing wrong, gives it a superficial appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defence of custom. But the tumult soon subsides." - Thomas Paine, Common Sense

Chapter I


“Coming out of hyperspace now sir,” the ship’s captain stated flatly. Lon Bel Iblis, who stood behind the captain’s chair, sipped lazily on his first cup of caf and watched as the swirls of blue outside the ship reverted to the thin blue lines and snapped back into tiny pin pricks of light, with a great blue and white ball dominating the view. He nodded and turned back toward the comfortable quarters that he and his new wife had occupied for just under two weeks, between stops to some of the most luxurious systems in the Republic. As he was moving into the passage adjacent to their sleeping quarters, he stopped abruptly, noticing a faint retching sound coming from inside the room. He continued on into the room, to have his suspicions confirmed as his wife emerged from the head with a shaky hand brushing her clammy-looking forehead.

Lon stopped and frowned as he set his mug down on an expensive-looking furniture piece by the foot of the pillow-adorned canopy bed. “Amari, that’s two mornings in a row isn’t it?” he asked with a concerned expression.

“I didn’t realize you noticed,” looking somewhat ashamed. She wanted more than anything for their honeymoon to go as planned. Lon had spent so much time on the arrangements, the last thing she wanted was for her to ruin the fantastic time they were having. Lon had taken her to worlds she had only read about, or saw in the holovids. Her family was wealthy, for sure, but in the last fifteen years her father had moved most of their assets back to Coronet and seemed to almost disdain travel. As a result, Amari Tredith had missed out on most of the experiences that are normally afforded by their kind of wealth. “I’m sorry Lon, my stomach must like space travel about as well as my father does,” she said sincerely, then added with as close to a smile as she could render under the discomfort, “but I AM having a wonderful time.”

Lon moved closer and wrapped his arms around her waist and smiled ruefully, “Sounds like you could use some time on the ground.” Amari looked up hopefully as Lon continued, “We’ve just come out of hyperspace only an hour or so out of Naboo. We’ll have soil underfoot in no time.”

“Naboo? I believe I’ve heard of it, but what sort of place is it?” She inquired, her child-like eyes full of wonder once again, as the prospect of a new adventure came into being.

“I think you’ll enjoy it, it’s much like Corellia, but much less populated. Rolling green hills, beautiful lakes, and the architecture is like nothing I’ve ever seen!” Lon’s excitement was cut short by a buzz at his comlink. “Yes?”

The garbled voice of the ship’s captain came through, “You should probably see this for yourself Ambassador, it looks like the honeymoon plans may have to be cut a bit short.”

“I’ll be right there.” He click off the comlink and turned his attention back to Amari, “Lay down for a bit and get some rest, I’ll go see what this is about.”

As Lon arrived in the cockpit and sat down, he spotted the source of the captain’s foreboding. At a distance, coming in at a right angle to the planet from their own ship, Lon immediately recognized the circular capital ships, six of them taking up position a short distance from Naboo.

“I don’t know who they are, but they don’t look like pleasure cruisers,” noted the captain eyeing the monstrous ships.

“Turn the ship around,” ordered Lon calmly, belying the trepidation he felt in his gut. “Get us to Coruscant as quick as possible. Those are Trade Federation Battleships. Hopefully they’ll be content with a blockade until we figure out how to handle this. Before we leave the system, get a coded narrow-band message to Garm apprising him of the situation.”

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Oklin Newbius sat back with his elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his fingertips together, eyes half closed focusing on something beyond the room. It felt right to be sitting at this desk, the seat of power. Soon, he thought, soon. In front of him was a datapad displaying the itinerary that he had comprised and made arrangements for as a gift to the Ambassador. Smiling faintly to himself, he thought, how simple it was, yet how ingenious.

At that moment the door slid open, startling him out of his thoughts. He sat forward just as Senator Garm Bel Iblis strode through and spotted him. “Oklin,” he said sounding pleasantly surprised, “glad you’re here. There seems to be trouble brewing with the Trade Federation. Do you mind if I take my own chair?”

“Not at all,” Oklin said, avoiding eye contact as he stood and shuffled together some of the loose datapads, “I was just putting in a few extra hours tidying up some of our unfinished paperwork.”

“Of course,” Garm went on, apparently he had come to that conclusion without being told. “A message just came in from Lon. They are on their way back from Naboo where a Trade Federation fleet has taken up position around the planet. Apparently they are as big a threat as we suspected. We must get word to the Senate as soon as possible.”

“You’re serious Senator?” Oklin asked, sounding surprised.

“Very serious Oklin, we all knew it was possible the Trade Federation had plans of this sort, but I don’t think anyone knew just how soon they would be ready for something this bold. Now let’s get started on this speech.”

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With the course laid in and the message sent, Lon released a sigh of relief as they prepared for the jump. The captain announced, “Making the jump in 5…4…3…”

“Uh oh,” Lon interrupted. “Not good.” He had spotted two more Federation battleships coming in directly on their escape vector. Turning to the astromech plugged into a console behind the captain he half shouted, “Clocks get us another vector quick!” The droid’s only answer was a quick blurt.

Just then a message came in over the subspace com-unit in a thick, vaguely annoying accent, “Unidentified Republic shep, please lowuh yaw duhfeenses and identify yawselves.”

“I really wasn’t in the mood to be social today.” Lon mumbled as he triggered the com. “Federation Battleship, this is Ambassador Lon Bel Iblis of Corellia. I am in-system on personal business and wish to go in peace.”

For a few seconds they waited in silence for an answer before it finally came, “Reequesta Deenide. Pre-par to beh boarded.”

Lon’s face reddened, “Now look here…”

The captain put a hand to his arm, “It’s no use. They’ve jammed our communications.”

“Any way we can get out of this?” he asked.

“They’ll be on us with a tractor beam any second now. It might be best to let them take us. We should be able to get diplomatic asylum.”

An hour later, their ship was locked down inside a vast hanger on board one of the Federation battleships. Looking out the forward view port, Lon watched impatiently as thirty or so battle droids mulled around to secure the area. Six of them stepped up to the closed hatch at the side of the ship. Lon and the captain turned toward the rear of the ship, “Time to greet our gracious hosts.” Lon quipped.

The gangplank lowered as Lon stood in the center of the hatchway with Amari off to his right and well behind him. The captain stood shoulder to shoulder on Lon’s right, hand on his blaster holster.

As the gangplank clanked on the deck below, the lead battle droid stated in the typically flat robotic voice, “Drop your weapons.” The rest of the small boarding party meaningfully raised their blaster rifles. The captain obeyed, carefully drawing out his blaster pistol, laying it on the deck, and kicking it off the gangplank toward the droids.

For a tense moment, nothing happened. Then without warning, the lead battle droid raised a robotic hand to the side of his mechanical head for a brief second, the flatly stated, “Roger Roger.” Just as suddenly, and just as unemotionally, the droid raised his blaster rifle and pulled the trigger, sending a single deadly beam of red energy into the hatchway. Amari let out a brief, sharp and startled scream and the captain ducked, but Lon barely moved for what seemed like an eternity. No more shots were fired. The lead droid lowered his rifle and the remaining five started up the gangplank. Just then, Lon crumpled to the deck of the ship, to lie there in a twisted heap, face up. Amari’s eyes went from the approaching droids to her husband’s face, where in place of the strong and handsome face of the man she loved, she found a smoking, charred-out black crater from chin to hairline. She felt her knees give out as she dropped to the deck, and her shaking hands went to Lon’s chest.

Amari heard herself screaming endlessly somewhere in the spinning world that rotated around this horrid sight that her eyes were relentlessly locked on. Her lungs started to burn, and she realized it was from a need for air, but she could not make herself draw breath. Her body shook uncontrollably, and her face was contorted with emotion, as she finally wrenched her eyes free of the terrible sight to find, through the tears, the captain’s face close to hers. His hand was locked on her shoulder, and his lips moved quickly, but the words were drowned out by the echoes of her own screams. Her legs unfolded as she felt herself being lifted to her feet, and the world around her spun faster, then…nothing. The world dissolved, blackness engulfed her, but the pain remained.

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"Perhaps the sentiments contained in the following pages, are not yet sufficiently fashionable to procure them general favor; a long habit of not thinking a thing wrong, gives it a superficial appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defence of custom. But the tumult soon subsides." - Thomas Paine, Common Sense

Chapter II


She awoke slowly, in stages, aware of nothing but two facts. One, she was lying flat on her back, and two, she felt terrible. Slowly, gradually, the haze began to coalesce into more localized sensations. The air around her was warm and stale. The surface she was lying on was rock hard. Her ears were filled with a faint, low hum. One eye crept open, but still only blackness surrounded her. Blinking that one eye and squinting, she tried to regain her sight. She let her head fall to one side, and her smooth cheek brushed against cold durasteel. Opening both eyes wide now, she still found she was drowning in blackness. Her shaking and weary hand came up to brush at her face, and at that moment it all came back to her in a rush. Lon! The horrid sight of his face. The captain’s voiceless words. The metal grips on her shoulders, drawing her up. It all came back so vividly that the tears overflowed her sightless eyes before she knew it. Lon was gone. Deep despair gripped her from somewhere within herself. For some time, she did nothing but wail uncontrollably, until the torrent slowly worked itself down to a manageable weeping. In the midst of her mourning, she suddenly realized she had not only lost the only man she’d ever loved, but she had also lost her own freedom. “I’m a captive,” Amari whispered hoarsely. These words were followed by a few small, choked sobs, and then sleep took her once more.

Sometime later, maybe minutes, maybe hours, maybe days, she came awake again, to be greeted again by only the dark. Quicker than before, but with a little less intensity this time, all the events and feelings came rushing back. She pushed herself up on one elbow, ignoring the pain that threatened to send her back to the complete blackness. Making it to a sitting position, she propped herself up against the solid wall at her back and brought her hands up to rub her eyes. Taking away her hands, she once again opened her eyes wide, straining to see, but the darkness remained. She turned her attention toward the sounds surrounding her. Still all she could hear was the steady low hum that seemed to radiate from all directions. Running her hands along the floor around her, she found the edge of the room she was in, where the floor met the wall she had been leaning against. On her hands and knees, she ran her hands along that wall until her hands bumped another wall. With great effort she forced herself to stand, and continued on with her hands on this newfound wall. When she had made it back to the wall where she started, she had discovered that the room was roughly six meters square with a durasteel door opposite the wall she started with, and a ceiling higher than what she could reach by stepping on her toes and stretching. She called out several times, while standing at the solid door, but with no answer. She started back around the room, feeling in blindness with her hands on the walls as she went, in case she had missed something, but nausea quickly overtook her and she returned to the place she had awoken and lay down again. Her thoughts immediately went to Lon, and to her family. It was not long before she again fell into a deep sleep.

Amari was awakened by a sharp snap-hiss and a blinding light. As she squeezed her eyes shut and instinctively shielded her head with her arms, she heard multiple pairs of metal footfalls entering her room. The footsteps stopped somewhere inside her room, but were followed by softer steps accompanied by the swishing of cloth. Still lying on her back, Amari’s eyes began to adjust to the brightness of the room, and she forced herself to look up at those present. She shrunk back against the wall as her eyes focused on the two battle droids, one on each side of the door, with blaster rifles leveled in her direction. Her attention was then directed to the figure coming through the door between the two robotic sentinels. Her first thought was that somebody had taken a long-dead sea creature and put it in a dress and gave it a headdress. The Neimoidian spoke, “You weel get two meals puh day. Do not attempt an uhscape and you will soon see yaw famuhlee again.” At that, the tall gray-skinned alien turned and exited the room, with the two droids backing out behind him, blasters still trained on Amari. Another snap-hiss and the world again became pitch black.


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Somewhere not far away, Captain Prestok stirred to consciousness in a situation much the same. He woke up alone, in the dark, on the hard floor, and disoriented, but with one minor difference. Instead of despair, there was only fury. He had been used and double-crossed, and it had cost him the life of someone under his care. Prestok stroked his stubble-laden chin as he leaned back against the hard wall, one knee supporting an elbow. Times were rough in his line of work. With the economy of the Republic in a downturn, shipping and transport pilots were a chit a dozen. It used to be that he would simply make up at the sabaac tables what he lost in taking runs for barely-breakeven fares. Now days it would take one hell of a sabaac pot to make up for the losses he had incurred over the last few months. So naturally when he’d been offered this little scheme, it had seemed a sweet deal. “Just make sure you ask for diplomatic asylum,” he remembered his instructions. “And everything will be taken care of, and you’ll be on your way.” The voice echoed in his head, almost taunting him. He intended to be on his way alright, on his way back to see the man who had set up this little escapade.


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What must have been days after her capture, a brutal snap-hiss once again disrupted the dark cold silence. Bright light poured in on Amari Bel Iblis, startling her out of a restless slumber. By the time her eyes finally came into focus, she was being roughly jostled to her feet by two STAP droids. She lifted her head up enough to see the now-familiar sight of the Neimoidian through the tangled strands of hair that draped her face. After noting the look of disgust on his face, Amari’s glance moved beyond the Neimoidian to another figure that also was in the grasp of his own two battle droids. She instantly recognized the now-haggard face of Captain Prestok, who had brought her and her husband to this place. She felt a sharp pang in the pit of her stomach at the thought of association with her husband, and she fought back the urge to burst into tears. The captain looked as bad as Amari felt, and she vaguely wondered if she looked much the same. The voice of the Neimoidian forced her to bring her attention back to him. “Yaw ransom has been paid. You are free to go. You will now beh escorted to yaw shep.” Stunned by this news, she watched the gray figure as he raised a slender, bony finger in warning, “But no funny-business!” He crisply turned on his heel and left the room. The droids moved her roughly through the door as well, followed by the captain being ushered by his own pair of droids.

They wove their way through the stark passageways of the enormous vessel until it finally opened up into the hanger bay where they had initially arrived. Amari saw their yacht sitting with the gangplank down, seemingly untouched since their arrival, and the flood of emotion came back in a rush. She could no longer remain stoic as the memories forced themselves through the frail barriers she had built. The release came and her knees went weak and her eyes threatened to cloud over, but the droids at each side did not seem to notice. They continued to usher her to the ship, practically carrying her with their mechanical hands under each of her arms. When they reached the base of the open hatchway, the droids released them and waited until Amari, supported by Captain Prestok, had made her way, weeping softly, into the ship and the gangplank was raised.

Prestok gently led her back to her quarters and laid her down on the bed, where Amari drifted, still sobbing, into an abyss that threatened to keep her until the end of time.


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The two days journey back to Corellia proved uneventful, much to the relief of the two much-shaken passengers of the small luxury yacht. Prestok cut power down from the sub-light drives and flipped in the atmospheric repulsors as they glided smoothly into the spaceport at Coronet. He had sent word ahead as soon as they had entered the system, and he could now make out a small gathering huddled together outside his assigned docking bay below, as he made his descent toward it. Just then Amari entered the cockpit from behind him.

“We’ll be down in just a few moments,” he told her, stealing a glance at the young woman. She looked much better on the outside after getting the rest, as well as the self-grooming, that their quiet trip back had afforded her. Stealing a second glance into the girl’s eyes, he could see that the change was merely an outer façade. He was sure it would take much longer for the inner wounds to heal, if they would heal at all. His own grief for the situation was nearly as palpable, but manifested itself in a different manner. He wondered how long it would take for himself to be rid of the guilt. Anger flashed through him once again as the ship touched down and let out a loud gust of exhaust that accented the whirring down of the engines. Flipping a series of switches, he powered down the yacht and rose out of his seat. Prestok moved out into the isle to leave the cockpit and was brought up short by Amari, who he had assumed had already headed to the hatchway, standing silently in his path. He straightened his posture and met her solid gaze. Her eyes radiated the pain and loss she was feeling, but there was also something else there. “I…” she stammered, “I just wanted to say…thanks. Thanks for getting me back home.” That was it then, he thought. Gratitude. Gratitude for being there during her time of need. Gratitude for protecting her. Gratitude for helping. Gratitude…. If she only knew the truth, he thought. He broke from her gaze and lowered his head silently, in what Amari mistook for modesty. She reached up and laid a hand gently on his arm for just a moment, then turned and walked away toward the hatchway.

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"Perhaps the sentiments contained in the following pages, are not yet sufficiently fashionable to procure them general favor; a long habit of not thinking a thing wrong, gives it a superficial appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defence of custom. But the tumult soon subsides." - Thomas Paine, Common Sense

Chapter III


Standing at the forefront of a small throng of people atop one of Coruscant’s many government buildings, Oklin Newbius stood waiting in silence in front of the luxury yacht that had landed only seconds before. The people in the crowd, some familiar to him and some not, all milled around discussing loudly the rumors they had heard surrounding the incident that had occurred just a few short days ago. As he looked around, watching the holonet reporters angle for position to get the best shots of the survivors, Oklin couldn’t blame them for all the commotion. After all, rumor had it they had lost one of their beloved politicians. He lowered his head and concealed a faint smile. Just then he felt a hand clap down on his shoulder, startling him from his thoughts.

“Good. I’m not too late then,” he heard from over his shoulder. Without turning, Oklin nodded at Garm Bel Iblis’s observation. Just then, the hatch released from the hull of the vessel and the gangway slowly lowered to the landing platform. Releasing Oklin’s shoulder, Garm solemnly added, “It wouldn’t be prudent for me not to be here to comfort her.” The man clearly had sorrow in his voice.

Oklin remained still, patiently awaiting the disembarking passengers, and just as he saw the feet of a woman begin to step down the gangway, Garm pushed past him to greet them. Oklin stood watching as Garm crossed halfway across the thirty or so meters between the crowd and the ship. As the senator reached this halfway point, he suddenly stopped short and quickly plucked his comlink from his belt. It was a quick conversation, as it should have been, Oklin thought, and Garm hesitated just long enough to lock eyes with Amari Bel Iblis before turning quickly back toward Oklin and the crowd. As he came back in an abrubt change of plan toward Oklin at a near jog, Garm looked worried. “Something has come up. Please remain here and see to the lady. I’ll give you an update as soon as I know more.” He looked rather pained as he continued on past Oklin and into the crowd.

As Garm disappeared from view, Oklin sighed to himself. A rather messy precaution, he thought, but a necessary one nonetheless. This latest little development should keep our dear Senator Bel Iblis busy for at least a few days now. And what a crucial few days they should prove to be…. Just then his attention was drawn back to the lady who had drawn within ten meters of him now, as well as her escort, the foolish captain. What was his name again? Ah yes… Prestok. As the pair drew closer still, and Oklin started forward, a quick glance revealed the fury nearly radiating from the captain’s eyes. How amusing, Oklin thought briefly as he extended his hand to Amari, 'I may have more use for this brave, or shall we say foolhardy, captain yet.'

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Grief washed over her once again as she now saw familiar faces. Tears began streaming down her face. Through the grief, she spotted Lon’s brother Garm approaching out from the crowd of onlookers. There was some comfort in seeing his strong form coming to her. If Garm Bel Iblis was anything, he was steadfast. Much like his brother, Amari thought, and a fresh waive of anguish poured over her.

She had nearly reached the landing platform when she saw Garm stop short and grab his comlink. He shot her a look of indecision, and then turned and left. She only had a moment to ponder this curious behavior before her tear-filled eyes met another familiar face—that of Lon’s aid, Oklin Newbius. His tender and caring manner was more than a welcome sight to her. As she took his gently-extended hand, he smiled warmly but with a sadness in his eyes as well. Oklin had always been so kind to her. “Amari, dear. I’m so glad you’re safe. Let’s get you indoors and away from all this fuss,” he said, gesturing toward the crowd. “Senator Bel Iblis I’m sure will be along shortly. Something came up quite suddenly, though I’m not sure what could have taken precedent over this.” Turning to Captain Prestok, Oklin said, “Captain, you have the thanks of many for returning Amari to us safely, and I’m sure you will be rewarded handsomely for performing your duty admirably.” He smiled graciously and continued, cutting off whatever it was that Prestok had wanted to say. “Now I’m sure these fine gentlemen,” gesturing to a pair of uniformed Republic intelligence officers that had been waiting patiently to the side of the landing platform, “would like to get a full report on the dreadful happenings you witnessed.”

The two officers started forward, but Prestok nearly exploded. “Now you just wait—“

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you’re quite right,” Oklin interrupted, absently waving off the officers, “How foolish of me. I’m sure you’d much rather take some time to pull yourself together and get cleaned up before proceeding with all the red tape. Please, by all means, take as much time as you need, but I’ll send for you later this evening and I will personally take your statement and present it to the senate committee myself. It’s the least I can do.” And with a meaningful glare that Oklin hoped was imperceptible to Amari amidst all the commotion of the crowd and with all her grief, he took the young lady’s arm and started off through the crowd, leaving Prestok behind, rather dumbfounded, but still quite angry. Just what this arrogant politician was playing at, Prestok had no idea, but he intended to find out.

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"Perhaps the sentiments contained in the following pages, are not yet sufficiently fashionable to procure them general favor; a long habit of not thinking a thing wrong, gives it a superficial appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defence of custom. But the tumult soon subsides." - Thomas Paine, Common Sense