Chapter 15: Gavin Azi'skar

Botha'ahir

The leader of Clan Askar was visiting the mean red planet for three reasons. The first reason was to discuss the delivery of a newly built Bothan Assault Cruiser, to replace the Yu'tor as Clan Askar's flagship. Azi'skar was already entitled to one, but he wanted to have the third one being launched from Botha'ahir's shipyards.

A second reason was to discuss a secret protocol with Botha'ahir—a new Spacer Coalition. Botha'ahir had recently suffered from several intelligence failures after Bothawui, Kothlis, and Thoran had kept them in the dark about plots against them. They were particularly furious after Republic ships jumped into their military exclusion zone, preceding the Battle of Bothawui. Botha'ahir wanted Thellus and Tawa to join this new Spacer Coalition. In exchange, Azi'skar would allow Botha'ahir to build a base on Thellus.

The third reason, Gavin Azi'skar had intended to tie to the second. The Senior Senator representing the Bothan Slice in the Galactic Republic, Thalkrisk Yon'tannen, had died suddenly on Coruscant. Polo Se'lab was now the Senior Senator representing Bothan Space in the Galactic Republic.

Clan Askar and Botha'ahir were both in agreement that his replacement, the new Junior Senator, should be a Spacer. Gavin Azi'skar wanted to be that Senator. It was not going well.

"Nųkhįz-dhųskh ęrz khųr įdhęyą!" [Not a good idea!] Groylir Thak'nel snarled.[You couldn't be elected chief of the plumbing union here on Botha'ahir.] Her dark red eyes narrowed as her tan and black fur stood on end.

"I am not planning on running this second," Azi'skar growled cautiously in Basic, sipping his caf gingerly. "Current considerations are irrelevant. I assure you; I will be everyone's favourite Bothan in a little over a week at the Futures' symposium."

Gavorsk Lon'tannen closed his heterochromatic eyes and laughed mirthfully. His cream and blue-grey fur danced as he punched the table. The way he was laughing, it was the funniest thing anyone had ever told him.

All around the three, the waitstaff in the tapcafé started staring.

"My plan is," Azi'skar continued in Basic, "to announce my candidacy on the first day of the Futures' symposium. Then, after I am elected, I will resign as clan leader and endorse my youngest son, Zoc."

Gavorsk's fur continued dancing. Combined with his feral grin, he now looked positively devious.

Azi'skar's fur swirled nervously. He knew the look. Gavorsk may be old, but he was a prankster. What the kriff are you going to do to me now?

[Young lady!] Gavorsk growled in Bothese, beckoning an uncomfortable heterochromatic waiter over. [Would you vote for this Askar?]

Oh, that is so kriffed up! [That is not fair!] Azi'skar snarled in Bothese, flashing his sharp white teeth at Gavorsk.

[Uh…] she growled nervously. Her fur fell flat as she regarded Azi'skar's teeth. [Yes!] she yelped.

Gavorsk chuckled wearily.

[See?] Azi'skar muttered, then turned to the waiter, [thank you for your support. You are very kind.]

"Well, I am sure the Bothans on Tawa and Thellus will vote for you," Groylir snorted switching to Basic.

Azi'skar sighed, regaining his calm. "All I ask is an audience with your clan leaders. Can you do that for me?"

"You can meet them anytime at the Combined Clans," Gavorsk muttered.

"Yeah, in the midst of drama where the knives are out—no, that is not what I want to do." No drama, no jokes, just me becoming a Senator.

o-o-o

On his way from the tapcafé on the edge of the dome, Azi'skar stopped. He noticed something he had not seen before.

A strange black sludge was on the ground, immediately beyond the dust-stained dome surface. It looked almost like a fungus of some sort.

Azi'skar knelt down on the pavement, crouching up against the transparisteel to get a better look. "Erz yag won aynisk hahulum?!" [Is that some plant?!] he gasped.

"Kiz." [Yep,] Gavorsk said proudly.

[This means…] Azi'skar gasped. [Your planet…] His thoughts began racing. The potential implications of Botha'ahir actually successfully terraforming were immense. Perhaps in his lifetime, the Botha'ahir Bothans would have a breathable atmosphere. Perhaps—

[—Three centuries of terraforming finally allowed one species of low-pressure plant to grow,] Groylir snorted cynically. [You Askars already grow crops on Thellus and Tawa.]

[We grow crops under the domes here,] Gavorsk growled defensively. [Just like they grow theirs on the station. It's not like they successfully grow crops in a vacuum! I must say Groylir, your cynicism disappoints me.]

In front of the odd low-pressure plant, Azi'skar noticed his amber-eyed reflection in the transparisteel staring back at him. How do I make myself more presentable? I'm a Spacer. If I can't get support here, how am I going to compete with a candidate from Bothawui or Kothlis?

o-o-o

Olanir Krit'skar

Bothawui-9

The news that she was going to be returning to Thellus in two days to help with the Futures' symposium was welcomed news. Not unexpected but welcomed, nonetheless. Managing the reconstruction of a bombed-out town was not very engaging.

As more and more of Varnek came together, there was progressively less for her, Klaes, Sanda, Q'afillip, and all of the other Askars, to do. Returning would also mean Sanda and Q'afillip would get to go back to Tawa.

"Olanir," Klaes knocked on her door unexpectedly.

"Yeah?" Olanir growled, setting down the shirt she was packing into a duffel bag.

"My father and I want to speak with you about something."

Zrask and Klaes, okay this is weird.

"Homelo." [Greetings,] Olanir said as she opened the door.

Like all rooms in the town shelter, this one was solid permacrete. As the wintry environment outside became more hospitable, thanks to their new Botha'ahir dome, most of the town residents had moved out of the bunker and back to their homes. For the last week, the shelter had felt increasingly empty.

[Greetings,] Zrask said formally. [I have already spoken to Klaes about this, but he thinks we will need your support.]

[My support for what?] Olanir's fur swirled with suspicion. She knew this was not going to be a dangerous or particularly burdensome request, given how neither Klaes nor Zrask's fur swirled with guilt, but she was suspicious that both of them had come to ask something of her.

[As you know,] Klaes said, [my brother lost his Clan membership…]

Olanir snorted, her fur relaxing in relief. [Yeah! That's no problem. I can talk to Grum Azi'skar about it.] We will have yet another Oc'skar. Fun! I wonder if Itoll will have any of his brother's business sense. Maybe he'll marry an Askar too, then we'll have even more Askars with cute little multi-coloured eyes.

[It's a bit more complicated than you know,] Zrask growled cautiously. [Something is going on which I do not fully understand.]

Olanir's fur swirled nervously again. [What type of thing?]

[Something dangerous-smelling,] Zrask muttered. [Someone has been preventing him from regaining his membership with Clan Onel. He doesn't seem particularly worried about it, but my son doesn't worry about a lot of things that should concern him.]

[Huh,] Olanir grunted. She took her hand off the doorframe. [All right, I'll explain that to Azi'skar too then if—]

[—Don't do that,] Klaes growled, [well, at least don't do that if you think it'll make it less likely for Grum Azi'skar to accept him.]

Olanir blinked incredulously. Okay why did you tell me this then. [All right… Well, I guess I'll see how he reacts to the request first then.]

[Thank you for all you have done,] Zrask sighed. [It means a lot.]

[It's no problem. Anything to help out a friend,] she said, putting her hand on Klaes's shoulder. [I am sure Azi'skar will not say no, he might just expect something from you, Zrask.]

Zrask's fur momentarily flickered with worry. [I understand.]

o-o-o

Thot Ni'mai

At first, Thot scoffed at the idea of attending the Futures' symposium on Thellus. While Thrask Industries had plenty of new technology to show off, most of it was for the Bothan market.

Then he looked at the bidding catalogue and he began to drool. His breath was taken away. His fur swirled with nervous anticipation.

"Pam huni, zo erz zharn fefela?" [What is the matter honey?] Hakorsk asked, sitting down next to Thot on the couch. He put his arm around Thot's shoulders and peered down at the datapad.

Thot looked up. "Beskar!" he yipped excitedly in Basic. "There are—there are," he stammered, "there will be sixty-four suits of Mandalorian armour! Full suits!"

"So?" Hakorsk growled in annoyance.

"If I buy even one, we can strip the armour down and analyse its composition. Figure out how the Mandalorians managed to do it," Thot yipped even louder.

Hakorsk snorted. "All right. So now you want to go Thellus?"

"No, now I am going to Thellus," he retorted sternly.

"Why can't you just buy some if it's so exciting and important?" Hakorsk asked.

"The Martialists would have never sold any," Thot growled bitterly. "The Martialists worshipped that stuff. We all thought we would get access when the New Mandalorians won their stupid war, but those shtak-heads then melted down the excess armour and kept the Beskar under lock and key." He scrolled through the datapad further, skimming quickly, looking for anything else he may be interested in buying.

"Does this mean it will be dangerous?" Hakorsk asked worriedly.

"Maybe, but Azi'skar I am sure, has taken many precautions," Thot muttered dismissively, zooming in on a closeup of an Amban Phase-Pulse Blaster. Looks interesting. Vaporising! Wow! He blinked, remembering he had not fully addressed his husband's question. "Still, I will definitely take Morst."

"Good," Hakorsk replied with a smile, stroking the back of his neck.

o-o-o

Morst Ni'skar

The news that he would now be returning to Thellus for the first time in two years made the Askar's fur dance with excitement. More importantly, his wife Asir would get to see the Askar homeland for the first time, and she would get to meet his family—her family.

Asir's red and tan fur swirled nervously as she packed her suitcase. At less than two months' pregnant, Asir did not yet visibly look pregnant. However, more importantly for Bothans, she was now aromatically pregnant.

For reasons Morst did not fully understand, the increasingly strong smell made him feel prouder and prouder every day.

"Erz-dolsk kora zomat." [Is everything all right?] Morst asked, his smile melting from his snout.

[Yeah,] Asir croaked. Her fur still swirled.

An impatient twitch of the fur flickered on Morst's snout, then spread all the way down his neck. [What's the matter?]

[Well,] Asir continued croaking slightly, her voice still not quite right after being shot in the throat with a rubber slug during the Republic attack. [I read the Bothan Diplomatic Corps advisories on Thellus. I wish the Futures' symposium were in Tawa, it seems… safer.]

Morst snorted dismissively. [It'll be all right Asir. It's my home.]

[We just don't have a spice trade here in Varnek,] Asir growled worriedly. [Reading the reports on some of the districts, it just sounds so—]

—Morst interrupted her with a tight hug. [The murder rate is lower than Corellia,] he growled into her ear. [Only a bit worse than Kuat. It's not like we are dropping down to Nar Shaddaa. Besides, we'll only be in Grav'shtarn, New Aroo, and the Agkaworza 'Yobod District.]

[All right,] Asir sighed. Her fur relaxed slightly. [I suppose I do want to meet your family anyways.]

Morst smiled contently. Everything is going to be perfect.