Towler - Office of the Undersecretary
The doors slid open, and Fosten U. Towler, Senator for Loronar, stepped into a well-appointed office. Undersecretary Avala sat behind a huge desk of what looked to be real, darkly hued wood. Other than that, however, the office had a light, airy feel to it, all whites and blues and with a, open, commanding view of the cityscape of Coruscant beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the entirety of the opposite side of the room. The undersecretary's office was situated at one of the highest points of the Galactic Senate building. It seemed a fitting view, looking out far across the urban center of the galaxy from the very heart of the Republic itself.
The office itself was beautiful as well, carrying a suggestion of quiet influence power well suited to the woman who sat behind it.
Though entirely unelected, Janai Avala was one of the most powerful women in the Galactic Republic. The undersecretary was among the Republic bureaucracy’s many commanding officers, and it was through the undersecretary position that the Chancellor and the bureaucracy exercised its direct managerial control over the affairs of the Senate. Sure, the ideas and policy goals of the Senate originated in the Senate, or at least seemed to, but the mechanical workings behind turning a bill into a law were so entangled with the bureaucracy’s agents that one could almost be forgiven for thinking democracy itself to be a very complicated sleight-of-hand trick.
Even calling it a trick might be a step too far. Of course, the undersecretary answers to the Chancellor, but if Fosten had learned anything in twenty years of representing the planet of Loronar on the floor of the Senate, he had learned that the question of who answered to who was far more than a question of whose office was larger, and who answered to who on the proverbial paper.
The undersecretary gestured to a seat as he came in, eyes scarcely leaving her holoterminal as she typed away. She was not, it seemed, happy to see him. Fosten had the good sense to know why. He sat down, foot up on his knee, and smiled. Avala spent a few more moments typing, concluded whatever it was she was working on, and looked up at him. Her eyes were dark, brooding brown. Avala was never one to give away too much in her face, but Fosten wondered if a less measured person would be scowling if they were in her position. He thought it likely.
“Undersecretary Avala, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he tried. A cordial opening, even in the face of a predator’s open jaws, never hurt anyone. Granted, it rarely kept the jaws from shutting, but appearances are appearances and always needed minding.
“You know damn well to what you owe the pleasure, Fosten,” Undersecretary Avala snapped, dark skin creasing into a frown. “The Asteroid Mining Reform Bill isn’t on the Senate floor. We have been working on this for eight months and where are we? On the verge of introducing groundbreaking executive powers legislation and distracted by this monstrosity of a bill.”
Monstrosity was certainly the appropriate word.
Just over a year ago, the mining vessel
Star Horizon had suffered a critical ray shielding overload during a strip-mining operation in the rings of Geonosis. The resulting explosion obliterated the
Horizon and crippled half a dozen ships operating in close proximity, leading to a loss of life counted in the tens of thousands. Subsequent investigation of what had come to be called the
Horizon disaster had led to the conclusion that the use of substandard—but legal—capacitor relays were to blame for the failure, and legislation had been introduced to regulate the standard of such mining vessel components to ensure the safety of deep space miners. A noble venture to be sure.
Of course, this being the Galactic Senate, such a simple, straightforward bill would never become law.
Hundreds of added amendments, provisions, wholesale redrafts, and supplemental legislative bills prolonged the lawmaking process and transformed this simple, straightforward solution to a simple, straightforward problem into a comprehensive reform bill that transformed the Republic’s approach to space mining. Provisions regarding hiring standards, materials transportation, educational requirements, training regimens, the international commerce of ore, and more had fundamentally altered the bill’s scope and purpose. As soon as the Labor & Pensions committee had introduced an amendment adding changes to collective bargaining rights to the fray, Fosten knew a timely passage of the bill was a long-lost cause.
For all that, though, the South Colonial Caucus, along with the Colonial Midworlds and the Southern Outworlds, had put together a bill that might just become a law.
“Undersecretary,” Fosten began, taking a reassuring tone, “I assure you my team and I have been working around the clock to make this bill happen and we are very close to bringing it to a vote. We have a few subcommittees putting the final touches on some minor amendments here and there. As soon as those are resolved the bill is on your desk.”
“What do you have to do to get it in on my desk? Specifically?” she asked.
“I should be getting the finished CBA amendments from Labor & Pensions within the hour, and Senator Yun has promised me the final draft of the transportation provisions by tomorrow,” Fosten answered. “The only amendment still being debated is in Outworlds Mineral Resources. Something about carve outs or some such for small Outer Rim enterprises.”
“Settle it, Fosten,” Avala said pointedly, “and get me my bill. We need all hands available to handle the CEC bill if it’s going to pass. It’s going to be an uphill fight and I need everyone we have to make it work.”
“Of course,” Fosten said. “Let me get back to work, then.”
- - -
Rensler - Offices of Ku'lya, Kast & Vosadii
“We just think there could be more than a trend,” Rensler said, scrolling through the datapad. Pai Gen, Narayana Navi, and Ben Croya, the first-year, sat in three chairs before his desk, all silent. Pai was scrolling through her own datapad, Raya typing away at hers. Ben Croya sat with his datapad out, but was looking to Rensler instead, as if unsure about what he should be doing with the thing. Conference calls were such awkward affairs when you were starting out, Rensler remembered. No idea what's going on, but being paid a lot of money to sit in a chair and knowing you should be doing something with your time. Of course, you don't want to ask what you should be doing. The only thing worse than looking unproductive, as far associates could tell, was looking dumb. That misconception was one every new associate fell into when they started.
“Look, Cal, I’m happy to take your money but we are not cheap,” Jacen Jast’s voice came over the speaker. “One politician says a phrase, it catches on, then they’re all saying it. We can look into it, but you know that’s how it works. I don’t think we’re going to find anything of value here.”
“Three hundred seventeen Senators across almost every party, caucus, and major committee saying the words ‘reasonable, temporary, and narrowly tailored possession’ is not a catchphrase, Jacen,” Rensler answered back. “The instances are too spread out, too specific, too off-message for too many of these people. Something is going on.”
Raya’s research over the past two weeks had been fruitful. Over three hundred Senators from every corner of the galaxy had, at one point or another, publicly suggested that they would support a seizure of the Corellian Engineering Corporation shipyards if that seizure amounted to ‘reasonable, temporary, and narrowly tailored possession’ by the Republic. Ordinarily, this sort of thing wouldn’t raise red flags for Ku’lya Kast’s lobbyists, but the situation was strange. The words were the same regardless of party affiliations, regardless of voting record, and yet they came up again and again over the course of months.
This was more than press secretaries feeding their Senators words based on trending topics in the news cycle. This was, as far as Rensler suspected, a coordinated effort. Someone, somewhere, was writing the words and feeding it to the Senate slowly and carefully.
“You’re right about that,” Jast said after a long pause. “Sure, let’s say you’re right. Someone has been doing a long-term push to have the Republic seize CEC properties. What does that get you?”
“Jacen, some of these statements predate Free Corellia. If I’m right, someone knew which way the wind was blowing and was laying the groundwork for it well in advance. Someone out there, with enough money to influence over three hundred Senators, was making plans to handle a Corellian revolution.” Rensler sat back in his chair. “If you’re playing sabacc, I think it’s helpful to know who you’re playing against.”
Noticing Pai, the team’s’ senior associate, raising a long, willowy finger, Rensler went for the mute button. “Just a moment, Jacen,” he said, pressing the button on the holocomm. “Yes?”
“We should probably run this up to the board first,” the Gossam said. “We are asking Coronet Analytica, a Corellian company, to do investigative work on almost a fifth of the sitting Senate. That’s going to be expensive. Maybe even completely unreliable, considering the subject matter.” Rensler nodded.
“You’re right. I trust him, but you’re right, there’s definitely a conflict of interest,” Rensler said. He hit the mute button again. “Jacen, we’re back. Look, I’m going to run my idea up to the board. Could you do me a favor though? Just investigate a few of these names, a couple of the big ones, maybe as a proof of concept sort of deal.”
“Sure, who were you thinking?” Jacen asked.
“How about Sadt Domask, Senator for Skako,” Rensler said, paging through the list on his datapad. “Shae Yun for Castell, too. Not that I know how to do your job, but they’re strong Core Faction traditionalists, could give us a baseline. Then for the more interesting ones, how about the senators for Iridonia, Ithor, and Glee Anselm. How does that sound?”
“I can do that for you. Let me know when you make a decision about this, I can put a full team on it within 48 hours as soon as you get the go-ahead,” Jast said.
“Will do, Jacen, thanks again,” Rensler said, and ended the call with a touch of a holographic button.
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