He put on his armor one piece at a time. First came the gauntlets that stretched from knuckles to elbow. Both were colored scarlet but one was plasteel, one cortosis. Next came the pieces over the abdomen, and then the chest, still scarlet, fitted firmly over black bodysuit. Then the double-layered shoulder pads, and the draping auburn cape. And, finally, the most important piece of all: the silver cylinder of a lightsaber, affixed at the belt.
Ganner Krieg look the image of a perfect Imperial Knight, but he felt like a lie.
He stood among the line of two dozen Knights gathered in the secure hangar room within the government palace on Coruscant. Soon they would file into the waiting airspeeder and join Marasiah Fel at the inauguration of the Galactic Federations' new senate. The empress had insisted on having her most senior Knights present for the occasion and had explicitly invited Ganner. He appreciated her trust but was in no way eager to stand in front of the thousands of holocams that would record the event. He had the armor and the lightsaber but not the Force, and it was hard to think of himself like a real Knight. It was even harder, knowing that all this was his fault.
When he'd first lost the Force- when he'd been kidnapped by Darth Maladi, injected with her midichlorian-deforming virus, and returned to Coruscant to spread the disease to all his friends and comrades- regret had consumed him. He's lost the desire to go on and nearly taken his own life; now he did everything possible to avoid looking back, lest he lose himself again in that despairing void.
Even without the Force, the man behind him sensed his thoughts. "Chin up, Ganner," said Antares Draco. "You can't look gloomy for the empress."
Your wife, Ganner thought. "I'll do my best to smile for the cameras," he said without humor.
"This is an important day. We need to be strong for her."
"I know that," he told his friend. "And I'll do what I need to."
Another voice said behind him, "What you'll need to do is stand behind the podium like a statue for a few hours. Nothing more."
Ganner turned to see Azlyn Rae approach. Like Antares, he wouldn't have been able to endure recent months without her. A former Jedi apprentice who'd found refuge with the Imperial Knights, Azlyn stood apart from the others both for her history and her appearance. A near-fatal fight with Darth Krayt on Had Abbadon had left were with scars on her face and a modified suit of red armor that included a respiration system to replace her ruined lungs. After Had Abbadon, Ganner had stood with her to help reshape her broken body and hurt mind. Lately she'd been returning the favor and helped him deal with the harm Maladi had inflicted.
Antares was a stalwart and true Knight, and he'd never fully trusted Azlyn for her mixed allegiances. Today, though, he seemed glad to have her present. "Master Rae is right, Ganner. We're essentially going to be decorations. Today is about Sia and the senate. As it should be."
"Exactly." Azlyn crossed arms beneath her respirator. "After facing the Sith, are elected senators really that hard? I doubt it."
"I'm sure Sia would say they're just as dangerous, but in a different way." Antares said. "Alliance sympathizers still outnumber our senators almost three to one. It's not something Sia would have allowed, but Stazi forced her hand when she was weak."
"In all the time I've known her, the empress has been very good at projecting strength."
"She has to be. The Alliance senators will eat her up like piranha-beetles if they think she's weak."
"It can't be as bad as all that," Ganner said. "And are they really Alliance senators? I thought we're all a Federation now."
"Ideally, yes," said Azlyn. "But practically, a lot of those new senators got elected because they stood against Krayt, and against Roan Fel. In their minds, and the minds of the electorate, they're Alliance."
It was likely true; recent events had emboldened members of the former Alliance within the government. Darth Maladi's artificial virus has swept across the galaxy, deforming midi-chlorians of all those it infected. The disease had been released to target Force-users across the stars, with a special focus on the Jedi and Imperial Knights on Coruscant. Other more obscure orders, had been infected as well; not even Maladi's former allies in the Sith were spared. Despite using every effort to secure Maladi and her laboratory hidden in the Gree Enclave, the Sith had destroyed her lab and herself, taking with it all hope for an easy cure. Since then the galaxy's best biologists had been gathered, but none had produced an antigen or even a vaccine. On Coruscant, only Marasiah had been spared Force-blindness. Her distant cousin Cade Skywalker had also escaped the effects, and while apparently this had something to do with their shared ancestry, scientists had yet to use this to help the others.
Cut off from the Force, the Jedi Order had withdrawn officially from the triumvirate set up after Darth Krayt's defeat. In a show of union and generosity, Marasiah and Stazi had agreed to continue using Jedi as official arbiters, but the Jedi Council had insisted that, without the Force speaking to it, it had no place ruling the Federation.
So it was down to Marasiah and Stazi. Marasiah, inheritor of the Empire, had the military and bureaucracy behind her. Stazi had the people and a cadre of devout, potentially dangerous loyalists. Her Imperial Knights, stripped of the Force, had fallen back to a role more ceremonial than actual. Stazi had pressed his advantage and gained concessions, increasing the senate's authority and getting permission for many Alliance partisans to run for office. A disturbing amount of them had been elected, even as they vowed the senate itself was a sham justification of Imperial dictatorship.
"There's plenty to worry about," Ganner muttered. "The Federation is supposed to be a unity government, but that only works if people want to be unified."
"Nobody wants another big war," Azlyn said.
"No, they want what they want and unity isn't usually the first thing on the list. It's just a means to an end, and most people care more about ends than means."
"You've gotten cynical, Ganner," Antares remarked. "Sia's said that politics is about forcing the ideal from the actual."
"She would know. She's been groomed for this since she was born."
To rule her father's Empire, perhaps. A galaxy-spanning union, mostly populated on worlds that had fought against Roan Fel a decade ago, was something more complicated. Ganner envied Marasiah for her poise and determination. He certainly didn't envy her responsibilities.
Azlyn looked around the hangar full of waiting Knights. "I suppose if anyone tried anything today we'll be ready. The good thing about Imperial Knights is that we're not just statues."
Ganner wasn't sure of that. All his years of training in combat, espionage, and other skills had used the Force and their foundation; without the Force, he wasn't sure if the skills remained.
Antares seemed more confident. With a grim smile he said, "If they want to try something, let them try. We'll be ready."
The sight warmed Ganner. It recalled the Antares he'd known in younger years: impetuous, devout, and frequently frustrated when there was no outlet for his ardor. Antares had changed since the end of the way against Krayt. He'd become less vocal about his passions and was given to sullen moods. Marrying Marasiah hadn't changed that, nor had losing the Force. It was something else, and Ganner supposed it had something to do with his failure to protect Roan Fel from that Sith assassin on the Jagged Fel. The man had always defined himself by his unflagging devotion to the Empire's ruler; failing to save his emperor was a pain that might never go away.
But despite their differences, Ganner and Antares had one thing in common. Duty was their last defense against a life of silence to the Force.
When the door to the hangar slid open and the empress appeared, the Knights hurried into two straight lines, forming a scarlet aisle down which the empress could walk to her ship. Ganner stood between Azyln and Antares as Marasiah Fel approached. In a white dress with thin gold-metal crowd across her forehead, she looked regal without being ostentatious, and the sight of her gave Ganner needed assurance. In her three years as empress she'd proven even-handed and fair, a leader worth serving. She, Ganner, and Antares had also trained together, and though it was a slightly unbecoming way for a Knight to think of his empress, he considered Marasiah a friend.
There wasn't much in the galaxy Ganner could believe in now, but he believed in her. As she passed she gave him the tiniest nod, and it infected him with confidence.
When she stepped into the airspeeder her Knights fell in behind her, orderly and eager. Today was not about them; they were only here to show strength. For their empress, they'd show it, as they always had. Against so much change, it was a comforting certainty.
-{}-
Morning in Galactic City. Steel towers rose from mile-deep canyons and speared toward the cloudless sky, and billions of beings traversed the glittering sprawl through millions of speeders passing amongst the maze of towers in lines of orderly traffic. One could almost believe the traffic never ceased and the towers never fell. It was a comforting illusion.
Nearly three years had passed since the battle to liberate Coruscant from Darth Krayt, and a massive reconstruction project had covered up many ugly scars that had deformed the global cityscape. Though there was still work to be done, the project had reached a climax with the creation of a great rotunda for the newly-created senate of the Galactic Federation. The broad dome rose a kilometer due south of the governing palace complex, from a relative low point in the cityscape that had once contained the senate hall for the Galactic Alliance.
Krayt had demolished the hall- and the senate- less than a year after seizing power. As part of the treaty that ended the war, Empress Marasiah Fel had promised a new senate and new hall to be established within three years of the war's end, and she'd kept her promise. Some had wanted the new rotunda to be an exact replica of the one Krayt her destroyed, but Marasiah's advisors, proud Imperials to a one, had warned against indulging in pro-Alliance nostalgia. She'd agreed, and approved a design that was more humble, with less adornments than the old Alliance hall, but with a larger footprint. This allowed for more seats and more senators from sectors all across the galaxy, including those formerly aligned with both the Alliance and the Empire. Thus Marasiah could claim that she was presiding over an electorate more vast and unified than anything since the Old Republic nearly two centuries ago.
The size of the assembly was without question. The unity was about to be put to the test.
Marasiah began the inaugural session with a convocation speech. It started, of course, with talk of unity and praise to all newly-elected members of the august body. Inflating egos in her audience was expected, even perfunctory. Once she was done with it, Marasiah began outlining the specific powers they were being invested with. Senators and their subcommittees were being given considerably authority in local affairs, as well as with drawing up budgets and outlining policy. Some things were still beyond their reach, notably final command of the military and the guidelines for devolution of power among Federation sectors.
All of this was according to the agreement she'd reached with Gar Stazi, who stood at the rear of the central platform in the blue and gold uniform of a Galactic Alliance admiral. The choice of dress was itself a bold statement, all the more because he hadn't stated his intention to wear it in advance. Marasiah could hardly object, not when the platform was also occupied by Imperial Knights dressed in full scarlet. It was clearly a calculated show of strength on Stazi's part, meant to remind everyone of his role as the Alliance's lead defender for nearly a decade. It also reminded that this senate was convening on terms closer to Stazi's than Marasiah's.
As she stood on the podium Marasiah felt the bristling emotions crammed into the audience chamber. Sitting side-by-side were Alliance partisans, devout Imperials, stolid pragmatists and speakers for a hundred minor factions that had done everything to stay neutral in the past decade's wars. Her father would have argued that democracy was an invitation to anarchy. Stazi insisted that any government that did not rule by decree of those governed could not be legitimate. As she delivered her speech and soaked in the senators' collective Force-essence, Marasiah was grasped by the conviction that both were right.
After she was finished she stepped aside to let Stazi give a speech of his own. The admiral could rally a crowd with charismatic words; he'd have never led a guerilla war for nearly a decade without those skills. Yet here he was understated and serious, his uniform more triumphalist than any of his words. When he was done he stepped aside and yielded the podium to Marasiah. She called the senate to its first order of business: electing a speaker who would manage regular sessions. Senators would put forward their candidacies today and vote three days later, and once Marasiah began the process she stepped away from the podium to watch.
With so many new members to the electorate it had been impossible to familiarize herself with all of them, but her uncle Hogrum, who acted as her intelligence chief, had briefed her on the most noteworthy representatives. Of the senators who submitted themselves as candidates, there were no surprises. Brant Eldon of Bastion represented the heart of Imperial space, and no other senators from traditionally Imperial sectors arose to split that voting block. Sark Rey'lya of Bothawaui, ambitious but pragmatic, also made a stand. So did Nel Kormesh of Eriadu, another moderate. Tem Brighton of Rhinnal was a different story; the man had been an Alliance senator and anti-Imperial hawk before the war and had spent nearly a decade in a Sith labor camp. With all those credentials, and a pugnacious attitude besides, it was no surprise the middle-aged human stood to represent the Alliance radicals in the senate. The amount of applause he received was disheartening, but Marasiah let nothing show on her face.
The only surprise was in who did not stand. Porat Derrol, a Chagrian who'd fought in Stazi's guerrilla fleet during the war, was said to be charismatic and ambitious, but he'd apparently stood down in favor of Brighton. There was also Monia Gahan, another of Stazi's soldiers, who was also the daughter of an Alliance triumvir killed by Krayt. Marasiah watched them both as the other senators gave candidacy speeches; neither betrayed their intentions, but she knew they had the stories and support to sway many votes.
Once the candidates had made their announcements, Marasiah directed the senate to other matters, and Monia Gahan was the first to rise and speak.
"It is an honor to speak to you today," she began. "It's an honor to be here, celebrating the return of democracy galactic government."
Her tone had been restrained, but the words were enough to draw more than half of the senators to their feet, applauding or giving their species' equivalent thereof. Marasiah, of course, allowed no response. When she glanced sidelong at Stazi she saw only a smile on his flat green face.
When the cheers died down, Gahan said, "I am also honored to be gathered with you in such a majestic convocation center. It's as splendid as the old Alliance senate hall in which my father presided. Over the past three years, the Federation government had done a splendid job rebuilding Coruscant and covering up the scars left by the Sith."
Marasiah heard the reservation in her voice and knew what came next. "It's good to have an august capital," Gahan continued, "But the goal of government should always be to take care of its people. As senator elected to represent the survivors of my homeworld's genocide, I'm sad to stand before you and insist that not enough had been done to help them. Hundreds of millions of my kind are still left wandering the galaxy as refugees. The government has promised to prepare new worlds for us to settle on, but as yet that hasn't materialized. Their voices must be heard and their problems addressed. Not when the senate elects it speaker, not next week or tomorrow, but today."
That got her another standing ovation, only slightly smaller than last time. Marasiah took issue with Gahan's claims; the triumvirate had pushed billions of credits toward helping refugees from Dac. If they hadn't established a world for them it wasn't for lack of trying. As much as other planets sympathized with the plight of the Mon Calamari and Quarren, they dug in their heels and protested at the suggestion they give up their oceans.
Marasiah glanced at Stazi again and found the Duro had stepped right beside her. Leaning close and speaking softly he said, "If she wants action today, there's only one place it can come from."
He was right; the senate wouldn't be fully functional until it elected a speaker. The clamor from the crowd kept going and was taking an angry tint. Marasiah knew what had to be done.
She stepped up to the podium and raised her hands, and eventually the senators quieted down. "I will not deny Senator Gahan's point," she said. "Much still needs to be done to help the survivors from Dac. Much of it will be done by the senate, including the continual allocation of funds as needed." Unsurprisingly, the senators started grumbling at the reminder. She raised her voice and added, "However, action can still be taken today. Using my vested authority, I hereby announce the creation of a select committee that will find a new world for Dac's survivors. As empress you have my guarantee that within one year, we will begin settling refugees in its oceans, and the civilization the Sith tried to destroy will be rebuilt there."
That earned Marasiah her own round of applause. Senators from Imperial sectors started it, but others joined in. When Monia Gahan signaled her approval with the nod, the wash of senators from Alliance sectors joined the ovation.
She'd done a good thing, but Marasiah could hardly be pleased with the circumstances. "Did you set this up with your pilot?" she asked as Senator Gahan took her seat.
"No," Stazi said, "But it turns out war teaches some skills that are easily applied to politics."
The admiral had amply demonstrated that. Her father had called politics war through peaceful means. Her uncle, even more cynical, had recently described it as the beings trying to coerce others to give them what they wanted. They weren't wrong, but politics was necessary, and it could accomplish great things. If she didn't believe that, she'd have never allowed for the creation of a senate at all.
Marasiah only hoped her promise would be half as easy to carry out as it had been to make.
-{}-
After the war against Krayt, Gar Stazi had thought that there was no fight so difficult he couldn't handle it. Joining the Federation triumvirate had been an education. As a soldier he'd often looked down on politicians as weak-willed and indecisive, more concerned with currying favors that protecting the Alliance. He'd come to understand that the campaigns they waged were even more complicated than an admiral's, and despite their lack of flash they could be just as important.
Stazi felt that acutely as he stepped inside Porat Derrol's apartment, located in one of the residential skyscrapers built to house the new senators. The homes in this high-rise were of standardized design, but he was immediately impressed by how much character Derrol had added to his. The walls and carpet were a soft blue-green recalling the waters of Champala. The tables and chairs had been fused from glass and light-fixtures hanging from the ceiling were sculpted like sea-flowers.
"You've done a wonderful job with the décor," Stazi told Derrol as he shook the young Chagrian's hand.
"I have my wife to thank for that," Derrol smiled, bearing two sharp canines. "She wanted a place where we could feel at home."
The senator led Stazi through the living room and into the dining room, where a number of familiar beings were already gathered. Tem Brighton sat at the table's head, flanked on either side by Senator Nelloran from the Senex sector and Senator Kaige from Chandrilla, hunched together in conversation. Monia Gahan- now senator, once Rogue Squadron ace- stood slightly apart, and Stazi wondered if the aquatic décor reminded her of her too much lost homeworld.
The one being Stazi didn't recognize, he could easily guess. The young Chagrian woman was slim and attractive. Her deep blue skin contrasted slightly with Derrol's teal hue and, like all females of her species, she lacked the tall straight horns that jutted from the senator's crown.
Porat Derrol drew her by the hand away from the table. "Admiral Stazi, this is my wife."
"It's an honor to meet you, Madam Derrol." Stazi gave his head a little bow. "I was just telling your husband how impressed I am. You've made this place your own."
"Thank you, that was my intention," she smiled demurely. Her husband was quite young for a senator but she looked younger still. "It's good to finally meet you, Admiral. You've always been Porat's hero."
Stazi smiled to hide discomfort; as the Alliance's flag-bearer during the war he'd been a hero everyone in this room, and they expected him to be their hero still. Politics, as he'd learned, muddled simple narratives.
Derrol and his wife directed Stazi to a seat at the end of the table opposite Brighton. Once he sat down the others did too, and the meeting was joined. Brighton folded his hands and looked across the tabletop at Stazi. His careworn face creased to a smile. "It's good to see you, Admiral. I'm glad you accepted my invitation."
Stazi simply nodded. Derrol hadn't explicitly told him that one of the four candidates for senate speaker would be present. He'd asked Stazi to join him for a talk with several 'allies,' and the admiral had guessed from there. That was another reason he disliked politics; discretion demanded so much go unsaid.
As if reading the Duros' mind, Brighton said, "I know you're a soldier at heart, and you like to get to the point of things. So I'll say it simply. Everyone here had agreed to support my campaign for senate speaker. They're confident they could pull votes from others and create a strong voting bloc aligned with Alliance values. We'd like to know how much support we can expect from you."
Stazi gave the man credit; he got to the point. "My authority is totally separate from the new legislature's," he said. "Neither I nor Empress Fel are allowed to act on it. That's why you're electing a speaker in the first place."
"We know that, Admiral," said Senator Kaige. Whereas Brighton's harsh wartime experience showed on his face, the Chandrillan woman had a gentler demeanor. "But more than two-thirds of the senators come from worlds that used to be Alliance. All of them will be looking to you for guidance. Unofficially, we were hoping you could make clear which candidate best promotes Alliance values."
Stazi took a breath. "The Alliance, if you recall, had something of a values problem in its final years. Many planets stood against Imperial aggression and fought valiantly. Others seceded or refused to bring troops into our fight."
"Like Eriadu," Derrol said pointedly. "It will be interesting to see what line Senator Kormesh walks in his campaign."
"Indeed. And there were others, like the Bothans and Rey'lya, who stood with Coruscant unenthusiastically. So I'm afraid when you speak about 'Alliance values,' I have a hard time remembering what they actually were." Half the table opened mouths to object, and Stazi held a hand to stop them. "Further, this is not the Alliance senate. The Imperial sectors have a sizable presence and they'll have to be accommodated, one way or another."
"They'll all vote for Senator Eldon," said Nelloran. The Nosaurian clacked his beak in disdain. "The Imperials are smart enough to present a united front. We have to do the same."
"That still leaves Rey'lya and Kormesh," Monia Gahan said.
"They can split the vote between so-called 'moderates,'" insisted Nelloran, disdain heavy on the final word.
"Unless one of them bows out, in which case the other has best chance to win," added Kaige.
Even among comrades there were testy disagreements. Stazi kept his eyes on Brighton, who said, "Right now, we have to believe the race will be between myself and Senator Eldon. The Imperials are less than a third of the senate. We cannot let them wrest control of the legislature. It would be as good as surrendering to them a second time. And we know you don't surrender, Admiral."
Well played, Stazi thought. "Of course I don't, and I also want to see the preservation of Alliance values, as you speak of them. But this is fundamentally a coalition government. I've been watching Marasiah Fel very closely. As far as I can tell she's had no contact with Senator Eldon. I don't expect her to do anything to prop up his campaign."
"She doesn't need to. The Imperials obey their leaders slavishly," said Nelloran. "It's what makes them Imperials."
"So you're saying Alliance free-thinking is our biggest weakness?" asked Monia.
The Nosaurian blinked. "A strength in one situation can be a weakness an another. You're the tactician, Admiral. Don't you agree?"
"I do," Stazi admitted. "But that's all beside the point. If we're to preserve peace in this galaxy, we have to preserve the coalition government. That means we maintain a situation where Alliance and Imperials can continue to work together."
"Does that mean you'll support Rey'lya or Kormesh?" Derrol asked in disbelief.
Their pragmatism, Stazi thought, might sustain a coalition better than Brighton's idealism, but he couldn't say that. "My point is that I cannot be seen to take sides. As long as the Empress avoids it, so will it."
"Admiral, we're not asking you to do anything officially, or publicly," Brighton said patiently. "We're merely asking what you can do quietly. Simply talking with a few senators in private, swaying them to our cause, could tip the election in our favor."
"There's little I can do quietly nowadays. Nor you, either. You should expect word of this meeting to start spreading around the rumor-mills."
"I'm prepared for that," Brighton nodded. "So are you, if you came here."
"The purpose of this meeting was not fully explained. But if I keep getting spotted at meetings with your allies, or hopeful allies, it damages my credibility. And it damages that of the entire government."
"Letting Imperials take full control would hurt it even more," insisted Derrol. "And do you really believe Fel won't help other Imperials?"
"I believe Marasiah Fel is an honorable woman," Stazi said honestly. "She's Imperial enough to be hard-headed and dictatorial, but at least she tries to be fair. I was able to get her to concede more power to the senate than I expected, and I don't intend for those powers to fall back into Imperial hands. But I can't act here, publicly or privately. I'm sorry."
He watched expressions wilt across the table, all except for Brighton, who still kept admirable aplomb. "I respect your position, Admiral. I just hope it doesn't cost us the senate."
"So do I," Stazi said.
He took no joy in any of this. He knew Brighton had suffered greatly for his belief in democracy. Derrol and Gahan had fought fearlessly in his renegade fleet. Nelloran had gone to prison and Kaige had lost several family members to Krayt's killers. These were good beings, and if there had been more of them in the Alliance a decade ago, maybe the Empire wouldn't have won the war.
Just thinking those thoughts made him sick inside. If the Imperial bloc really did take control of the senate, he'd regret sticking so close to the rules.
Stazi exhaled. "I can't canvas on your behalf. However… am I willing to offer advice. Quietly. Privately." He looked around the table. "Preferably to only one of you. Another one of these big gatherings and the rumors will be impossible to stop."
Relief showed through. He was expecting Monia to volunteer, but Derrol raised a hand first. "I'd be honored to liaise with you, Admiral."
"Thank you, Senator. I can't promise my advice will be useful-"
"I'm sure it will, Admiral."
The admiration was back on all their faces. It made Stazi uncomfortable again. "I can recommend strategies, and perhaps share information about Kormesh and Rey'lya's campaigns. But in the end you'll have to win this election by yourselves."
"We're just glad to have your help, Admiral," Brighton said. "After all, none of us would be here if it weren't for you."
Flattery was all the harder when it was true. Putting on one more smile Stazi said, "Thank you. Is there anything else for now?"
"No, Admiral. I think we've kept you long enough to stir the rumor mill."
"When you want to be in touch, sir, you can contact our apartment directly," Derrol said. "Saarai, get the admiral our contact information before you show him out."
"Of course," his wife rose and slipped out of the room.
By the time Stazi got to his feet she was back, holding a tiny datacard. The admiral exchanged short farewells with everyone at the table, then followed her through the living room to the door.
"Thank you so much for helping us, Admiral," she said as she pressed the datacard into his hand. "Porat was sure we could count on you."
"I'd be a poor admiral if I let my soldiers down."
She nodded, gave his hand a short squeeze, and released. As he stepped out of the apartment and hurried corridor, Stazi's thoughts lingered on her soft blue face. Despite her youth and innocent expression, she'd paid close attention the whole meeting. Some politicians kept their jobs and families separate. For better or worse, Derrol didn't seem to be one of them.
Stazi was relieved to step outside onto the high-rise's landing platform, into the gathering dark and rising light of Galactic City. He took a breath and released. Being with so many senators brought back memories of his sparring with Alliance leadership during the war, though barring Monia's father they'd treated him far differently. When faced with the convoluted obligations of politics, space combat seemed downright simple. Sometimes he even missed the days of fight-and-run against Krayt.
Yet despite it all, he didn't miss them now. Politics was convoluted and conflicting, but it was a sign the galaxy was returning to normal. That Alliance patriots were able to make election schemes was a better sign still. Many good friends had died to make an evening like this possible.
Strange as the night had been, it gave Stazi hope.