The Vast Horizons

2000 short story by Mark Newbold

Thirty years after Episode IV – A New Hope

“Take a deep breath and open your eyes. It’s a whole new world out there.”

“No, it’s the same world. It’s just got new bureaucrats running it.”

Avlo Dreet smiled at his friend’s cynicism and folded his arms across his chest. The bracing winds of Zelon blew across the balcony of the twentieth floor, wisps of clouds congregated below as the sun began its slow journey towards the horizon and the sky began to notch down towards deep velvet in subtle shades. Mesacarn Fray remained where he was, hands clasped behind his rigid back, his posture as formal as it was solid.

What genes could have mixed to make someone such a cynic? Thought Avlo as he eyed his old friend closely. What circumstances could steel someone to the pleasures of life? Avlo knew full well what made Mesacarn so cynical. He’d known the Cawbate native for many years, working within the Setnin Council as both a colleague and a friend. Fray was the Speaker for Cawbate, Dreet the Speaker for Carlin. Different worlds, one of sand, the other of forests. But the two had forged a swift friendship, one that translated to their worlds. If nothing else ever came of this alliance with the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances then at the very least two worlds of polar opposites had become joined.

Fray turned from his reverie as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon and the calling of birds began to echo throughout the forest rimming the edge of the Mutumbarr Lake region. Avlo smiled expectantly at his friend, who in turn returned the smile with a barely concealed grimace.

“Please Avlo. Save the brave new world speech for the next session of council.”

“Fair play Mesa. I’ve got to practise on someone.”

Mesacarn nodded and moved inside.

“I know. But why’s it always me?”

“Because you always listen.”

The galaxy that these two men had grown up in had altered drastically over the last few years. Sixteen years ago the seemingly impossible had occurred. The Setnin Sector, independent powerbase of ganglords and the underworld had voted through referendum to rejoin the larger galaxy. They merged back into the Galactic Alliance after almost fifty years of autonomy, a move welcomed by tickertape parades on practically every world. It promised to herald a new era, one of prosperity for all. Equality for the masses and their voice to be heard throughout the wider galaxy.

And for a time it did.

But sixteen years later those words echoed hollow. Setnin had no more say in galactic policy than it had during the years of isolation. Her populace were restless, longing for the days of true self-determination. Speakers and Setnin Council officials commonly debated issues in the Chamber of Systems on the moon of Benesk that hung lazily above their heads, only for the fruits of their debate to be over ruled by the Galactic Federation council. It made men like Avlo Dreet and Mesacarn Fray very tired indeed. And their speeches increasingly sounded for all the world like forced propaganda, even to their own tolerant ears.

Not that it had always been like this. The first few years had been a union beneficial to both parties. The Galactic Alliance knew the vital role that Setnin had played in liberating the Mid-Rim from the clutches of the Empire. And even though the Empire largely steered clear of her borders the Galactic Civil War had indeed visited her shores. But Setnin fought back. Cloned Stormtrooper battalions were extinguished; the Super Star Destroyer Revenger was destroyed. Squadron Indigo, the legendary Rebel Alliance X-wing squadron was formed and tore through the Imperial ranks like a lightsabre through ditrinium. And as the end of the war approached Setnin held firm, just like any other allied world or sector.

And the Rebel Alliance admired that.

Approaches were made. Small at first, increasing as the years went by. And the overture was always the same. Come back into the larger family. The galaxy needs Setnin and the Setnin Sector needs the galaxy. But that message was never successfully relayed to the populace. With the sector still within the tight grasp of the underworld, and many of her citizens employed either directly or indirectly by ganglords and criminals, they were reluctant to accept the offer. And vitally one man stood resolutely against any increased New Republic involvement in the sector…

Glann Cipple.

He’d been overthrown from his exalted position over two decades ago and yet he still maintained an aura of power that was unsurpassed. The underworld, or what remained of it, still danced to his tune. His daughters had continued with his operations in a limited fashion, and his enemies scrabbled to take what they could of his crumbling empire. And yet the entire sector still seemed to exist within the vast dark shadow that he cast. Setnin was a rogue state, an independent state. The Setnin Way was more than a snappy turn of phrase; it was a way of life. From Janos to Zelon to A-desando to Cawbate the Setnin Way meant something. And many Setnin residents feared that the rest of the galaxy would hold little respect for that way of life.

And so it turned out to be. At least, that’s what many perceived. And perception, as Avlo Dreet knew only too well, was half the battle.

Mesacarn lowered himself into the hefty armchair and slowly relaxed. Avlo could see the tension ebb out of his frame as he unfolded into a relaxing position. Dreet felt the tension also. These days, sessions in the Chamber of Systems were more like a pitched battle than the reasoned debates they had once been. Considered speeches had given way to impassioned cries for change. Emotive to be sure, but lacking in the diplomatic power and skill required to make the Chamber more than just a soapbox on a corner for someone with a grievance. It was becoming difficult to know who was making the most noise – the Isolationists who wanted their independence returned to them, the Revisionists who wanted the universe to believe that Setnin was never a region of the galaxy that had enjoyed and prospered in isolation and the Loyalists who insisted that remaining with the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances was the only way forward.

Avlo blew out a long breath and closed his eyes for a long minute. When he opened them he found Mesacarn watching him.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“It’s been a long decade. One minute with your eyes closed is hardly going to make a difference.”

“Tell that to the man who fell asleep in the Rancors cave.”

Mesacarn nodded at the reference to an ancient tale. A traveller once took to journeying through a mountain range on Dathomir, intent on seeing what was on the other side. En route he fell weary and crawled into a cave. After a few moments rest he was woken up by the roar of a Rancor, its cries echoing around the harsh rocks, obscuring its location. Fearing for his life he was faced with a decision – go deeper into the cave to hide from the marauding beast and risk crawling into its lair or take a chance and make a run for it, alone in the night with no protection. He opted for the safety of the cave. After a brief time he heard no more sound and satisfied that he had evaded the creature he curled up into a ball and fell asleep. It was only when he was motionless and still that the Rancor reached out a hand from the dark, hidden depths of the tunnel, scooped him up and devoured him whole. It was a tale regularly told to small children to warn them of strangers, and of choices. And to both men it held particular relevance.

What were they? The Rancor, the traveller or the cave? And what role did the Galactic Alliance play? Was it the cave, or the Rancor? Avlo rather hoped that it was the traveller. At least then they could scare it off with a throaty roar and be done with it. But he had the feeling that it was the beast itself, and it was a feeling that had been growing day by day. Mesacarn would only too readily admit his growing dissatisfaction with life in the Setnin Sector, but Avlo preferred to keep his cards closer to his chest. Standing against governments had never been his greatest strength. His home planet of Carlin was a peaceful world, proud if its heritage and proud of its youth. Squadron Indigo Commander Terrie Saffra hailed from there, and he hoped dearly that many others would follow her onto the wider stage. But it would only happen if it were allowed to nurture its population without interference. And the past sixteen years had seen change and regulation creep into the everyday lives of the people of the Setnin Sector, from street beggar up to business tycoon.

Avlo’s thoughts were disrupted by the sharp beeping of the communicator. He frowned at Mesacarn as he leaned forward to respond. The emergency communicator channel was rarely utilised and was only operated under unique circumstances. He flicked the switch and paused.

“This is Senator Avlo Dreet.”

“Senator, my apologies for the interruption but Governor Gabe has reconvened the council. You and Senator Fray are to make your way to the Chamber of Systems immediately. An emergency session convenes in three hours.”

Avlo blew out a sharp breath and fixed a steely eye on Mesacarn, who shook his head slowly. An emergency session was a rare occasion. It usually denoted an event of vast importance. Occasionally it marked the arrogant ego of the current Governor, but Ocern Gabe was not a vain man. The Ishi Tibb has displayed a marked amount of restraint during his fourteen years as Governor of Chancai, a rare trait in a line of Governors reaching back almost a millennia. Gabe had lived the fast, exciting life of a smuggler. He knew what it took to make a credit out there in the real world, and many believed that the sector would have flourished under his leadership. But Setnin had rules to follow, and Gabe was only the governor of a city, albeit the most profitable city in the entire sector. The task of leading the Setnin Sector from the front would never fall to Ocern Gabe. But he did have the most prominent seat on the council.

Mesacarn stood to his feet as Avlo’s mind whirled through the possibilities. The stars were shining brightly through the open patio window and a cool breeze wafted through.

“Still think I’m a cynic?”

Avlo stood and shook his head again in disbelief.

“More than ever”

The massive amphitheatre of the Chamber of Systems was already practically full when Avlo Dreet and Mesacarn Fray entered. Their seats were marked, next to one another as usual, and on their seats lay briefing packets. They picked them up, opened the packets and began to read the material inside. Half the amphitheatre held seats, the other a massive holographic display of the sector. A few brief minutes passed as the assembled Senators and Speakers read their reading material and discussed it with aides and colleagues. The lights began to dim and from the edge of the narrow stage entered Governor Ocern Gabe, flanked by his aide Yullm and the Galactic Alliance representative and Jedi Knight Letitia Arkensaw. Gabe’s green beaked face twitched in irritation and it was plain for all to see that here was a man with a problem.

“Ladies and gentlebeings, first of all I must apologise for the short notice of this session but as you shall soon see matters have moved on faster than we anticipated.”

Avlo glanced at Mesacarn but the Cawbatian kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead on the Governor. The room was overhung by a cloud of tense anticipation and tension. Gabe continued.

“We received this information at 05.45 hours this morning, local time. Given their volatile nature it should come as no surprise to you that the world of Janos has declared war.” He took in the entire chamber. “On us.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the news sank in. It wasn’t that the Janites had again declared war, but rather who upon. Gabe turned his head, taking in all the room.

“To save time and for the purpose of clarification I shall read a prepared statement issued by the Emperor Priest Akallon the Fourth. `For the attention of the Setnin Council. It is with great sorrow and anger that the holy world of Janos declares war on the following institutions. The Setnin Council. The surviving members of the Zobian Pirates. The non-affiliated worlds. Once again we have been affronted in the most blasphemous and ignorant way. The rulers of Janos will stand by no longer. All diplomatic processes are ended with immediate effect and all ambassadors recalled. From this day forward no vessels are welcome within the Janos System and any vessels that stray into it shall be destroyed. Consider this a warning – Janos shall stand by no longer while the heart of the Setnin Sector is carved and sold to outsiders. If sense prevails then we shall talk. Until then, stay away.’”

The room hummed with a hushed silence as Gabe stepped away from the autocue and moved across the stage. He made ready to speak but paused as he turned to look at Letitia Arkensaw who waited calmly near the edge of the stage.

“Akallon has made himself perfectly clear. And I think it’s obvious that with a little thought this entire situation could have been avoided.” He cast an almost embarrassed glance at Letitia, his friend of many years as he made his way further across the stage. “Without wishing to make a mountain out of a Womp hill this entire situation could have been avoided by leaving Setnin’s internal affairs to those who best know Setnin’s internal affairs.”

A ripple of agreement rode through the room as both the council members and the non-affiliated worlds voiced their agreement. Mesacarn held his gaze as the thought of his own world of Cawbate spinning under the gaze of a Galactic Alliance scanning satellite ran through his mind. Gabe is right; the Republic is too heavy handed. The Setnin Way is more than a simple code. There are complexities privy only to those who have lived in it. What was once the New Republic may have fought and won a war against the Empire but running the Setnin Sector is a constant battle.

Gabe stopped his move across the stage and began to walk back to the centre. All eyes were fixed firmly on him. This was a crucial juncture in the affairs of Setnin, and everyone present knew it.

“I find us at a crossroads.” He paused again as he felt the expectant eyes of the assembled council members fall upon him. I can’t believe they sent a Zobian ship to Janos, after the last time. Why wasn’t I told? And now it’s come to this. But what do I say?

“If I may Governor.” Letitia Arkensaw moved onto the main stage and Gabe sighed a visible sigh of relief. Gracefully she swept her cloak behind herself and addressed the audience. “The Galactic Alliance is not blind. We know that there are those among you who are not satisfied with being in the Alliance. The Setnin Sector is famed throughout the galaxy for it’s fierce independence. None were more surprised by the decision to rejoin the larger galaxy than the Galactic Alliance.” She paused again as she herself moved across the stage to stand by Gabe. “But that was sixteen years ago. Times change. We’ve changed. I was born in the Setnin Sector. My mother died here. I trained as a Jedi to protect the Setnin Sector. But I believe the Setnin Sectors best place is within the Galactic Alliance. Isolation is for the Janites.” She eyed closely the Janite delegate who was standing to his feet, an expression of disappointment and anger clouding his face. She waited until he had departed until she continued. “Together we are stronger. Tougher. Able to defend ourselves from external attack. Able to provide for the less fortunate and the needy. Better able to govern wisely with the best wishes of the common man in mind.” She lifted her chin as she looked to the very back of the chamber. “We need the Setnin Sector. You need the Galactic Alliance. What better reason to end this uncertainty than that?”

Gabe watched her as if through new eyes as she moved off the stage to the applause of roughly half the chamber. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t realise what the Janites are doing. What they’ve said. After decades of conflict this may well be the first thing the Janites have ever done for the greater welfare of the Setnin Sector. What did Akallon say? `The rulers of Janos shall stand by no longer while the heart of the Setnin Sector is carved and sold to outsiders. If sense prevails then we shall talk.’ They don’t want to fight with the Setnin Sector. They want to fight for the Setnin Sector.

Ocern Gabe’s shoulders sagged as the lights dimmed in the chamber and the last of the delegates left. His assistant Yullm noticed his weary figure and slowly walked over.

“Credit for your thoughts.”

Gabe smiled and looked to the skies.

“If only it were that simple.”

The Vast Horizons

2000 short story by Mark Newbold

Thirty years after Episode IV – A New Hope

Histories – The third of the Ki-Ki invasion stories to be written, following from the events in Jonathan Hicks’ The Seeds of Destruction. This shows the level of political manoeuvring that both Setnin and the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances had to do in order to keep the peace. But neither side counted on the interference of Janos.

Cast of Characters

Avlo Dreet

Mesacarn Fray

Governor Ocern Gabe

Yullm

Letitia Arkensaw