NationStates Jolt Archive

Caranthir fights the impulse to glare at the Abh, instead dutifully moving amongst the sculptures. Since he invited her, it would be socially boorish to start rebelling now.

Ceilia suppresses a sigh and grabs Caranthir by the arm. "Tell me what you think about this work."

He looks at the nearest statue, about the size of a grown man's forearm and displayed on a tall pedestal that puts it at eye-level. The woven steel and bronze stretch upward in a double-helix, strung across with thin wire like a strand of DNA. Climbing the twisted ladder is a horned humanoid with a despairing expression molded onto his tiny face. "It is... interesting," he decides.

Ceilai pointed at the horned humanoid. "And does this remind you of anything? A species perhaps?"

"Lucifer, perhaps?" he says with a coy smile.

Ceilia looks confused. "Who?"

"Never mind," he replies with a shake of the head, the moment lost. "Do you really enjoy looking at these twisted blocks of metal so much?" he asks, changing the subject.

"Yes I do. The time and delicacy it takes to mold metal to its shapes. The way an artist expresses themselves through molding a simple material into intricate designs is quite fascinating."

She sighed and looked over at Caranthir. "Where would you like to go?"

He smiles at her with the innocence of a child. "To be honest, your presence is the greatest pleasure I seek at the moment."

Ceilia narrows her eyes slightly. "And yet this place seems to torment you. Come, tell me what interests you more."

"Torment? Not at all. Because I do not share your interest in the arts does not mean that I am reluctant to be here. I am not interested in viewing or discussing the artwork."

"Perhaps torment is not the right word for this but it does seem to me that nothing here is of interest you. I am asking you what interests you. What do you do for entertainment during your spare time?"

"I..." he pauses. "I study." He takes a step back and averts his eyes, as if the fact were something to be ashamed of. "The Abh, the English language, and economic theory, mostly. Along with my school subjects, of course."

"Well that is certainly nothing to be ashamed of." Ceilia takes a pensive pose and begins to pace shortly with a finger on her chin. "Tell me Caranthir, would you like to go for a walk, perhaps some place quiet?"

The unshakable elf suddenly looks quite shaken indeed. "I do not want to stop you from doing something that you enjoy. Besides, it is getting late. Has your guardian not set a curfew for you?"

Ceilia smiled. "No he has not and do not worry about my enjoyment. I wish to see more of this country, this land itself and perhaps we can accomplish something that you enjoy at the same time."

"Well..." He begins, feeling awkwardly like the dashing young hero in a film, about to sweep up his mistress, "there is a place along the coastline that I like to go when I am feeling philosophical. I can take you there, but it will probably be mid-night by the time you can get back home." If he were older, he might be romantically attracted to Ceilia. As it is, she is becoming something of a confidant, a kindred spirit.

"The time does not matter to me. I have never seen a coastline before in my entire life. This can be a first time experience for me and you may ask me any question that you wish for your research or you may do whatever fancies you."

Caranthir tries to think up a response to that, but words escape him. He blushes. "Thank you," he says stupidly.

The corner of Ceilia's mouth turned up into a small grin. Two diamond like objects at the end of her tiara glinted in the light as they rocked back as Ceilia straightened. Her long blue hair fell past her mid-back. "Let us be off then."

"Yes," Caranthir smiles happily, and the two decend the elevator, exit the building, make their way to the subway, and begin their trip as the darkness over the island deepens.

Ceilia walks idly by with Caranthir as she takes in more of the scenery of the island. Every so often she tries to steal a glance upward for one small glimpse of space. Unfortunatly the lights of the city did not allow it nor did the tunnel of a subway.

Along the way, there is a noticable deterioration in the subway itself. Shiny, polished walls give way to stained and scratched tunnels and dusty stations. Shortly after they leave town, they must transfer to a surface tram that rides on metal rails, powered by electrical current running through the track. Between the dark of night outside and the artificial lighting inside, the glass windows do not afford much of a view, either. Ceilia and Caranthir find themselves alone in the train's sole car as the lights of the city disappear around hills and bends.

Ceilia sighes, wishing that she could see some of the stars. "How far from the city is this coastline of yours?"

He estimates, "About twenty kilometers."

Ceilia looks back out the window. "I suppose that is not so bad."

"So bad?" he questions.

"Oh sorry. I meant in regards that it wasn't too far from the city."

"Oh." Caranthir makes a mental note of the unfamiliar expression. A few more minutes pass before he speaks again. "What is it like being a princess?"

A small smile spreads on her face for the first time since they left the art museum. "Well I suppose I could ask you what is it like to be you."

She sits there looking out the window for a while trying to think of an answer. "Try to imagine having no one that can really be close to you and be treated differenly everywhere you go. In the Empire, everyone knows who you are and what you are. While picturing this, do not forget to imagine the amount of fear everyone has of an Abriel. Some of it is well founded and at other times it is not. Imagine growing up your entire life and being told that you could never cry because one day you would have to sit on the throne and the Abriel family has established a long history of being heartless. My best friends call me 'her highness' and very rarely am I allowed to do anything for myself. That is the life of a Princess for the most part."

"Certainly your reservation is complemented by privilege, though."

"Privilege.." Ceilia sighes looking back out the window. "Privilege would be running around with your friends and not worrying about being treated differently. Sneaking out late at night with someone for a stroll through the gardens or to visit the library. Never having to worry about watching my manners or being scolded by the Minister of Affairs." She finishes her last sentence with a smile.

"I would imagine that 'privilege' is different for everyone."

Caranthir scratches his head. "If it is so unpleasant, why do you choose to continue living in the Empire? There are many other countries that would accept you."

She smiles as she looks down at her companion. "I am an Abh, Caranthir, and as such I have the pride of one. I would not want to live in any other nation but my own. It's not that I dislike it, I know why we have such guidelines for royalty. Afterall, how could an Empress cry for people she does not even know and remain fair and impartial? It just can't be done. The Abriels have a 'burden', if you will, when it comes to ruling the empire. The average Abh has three phases of life they need only to worry about. Star Forces, piloting a merchant ship, and becoming a parent. I would say the Abriels have a fourth and that is ruling the Empire. I only wish there was more freedom. I must remember to think his highness for suggesting me for this student exchange. It really is a pleasant change to be walking around this island with you and not worrying about manners or being treated any differently. I look back at some of our previous Emperors and do not know how they managed to make their lives so enjoyable. Perhaps one day I to will find a way once I return home."

Caranthir sits in silence, looking chastened.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to burden you with so much information."

He looks over at Ceilia. "What makes your clan superior to others?"

"Superior? Nothing really. It's not superiority but nobility. The Abriel is divided into nine different families and all share the responsibility of commanding the Jade Throne. When we broke away from the once great Empire, other Abriel family members came with us. Long ago there were more than the current number of Abriel families and contests for the throne were fierce. The pointed ears of the Abriel is the true mark of royalty among our people though not much attention is placed on it."

She leans over. "I'll let you in on a secret." She pauses for a moment. "The Abriel clan is the most feared because of our agression and our anger. The Abh sometimes smile at those they hate. The smile of an Abriel is said to be like a poisonous flower in all of its glory."

Caranthir nods. He suddenly feels very uncomfortable, as though he has been displaced. For the first time, it crosses his mind that Abh society is repulsive to the principles of his upbringing. He falls silent again, wishing he hadn't asked Ceilia about her status.

"Caranthir, have you ever been in a starship?"

"Yes, of course," he replies, happy for the change of topic. "My family takes an annual vacation to Trasnia IV."

Her next question was somewhat difficult for Ceilia to formulate into words. "Do you enjoy riding in starships?"

"As much as can be expected, I suppose. It's not a terribly exciting venture for a simple commercial passenger. Then again, I am an elf. We have something of a reputation for being more at home on terra firma, preferably in a mystical forest somewhere." He smiles at his own joke. "I suppose it is a biological tendency, much as the Abh are usually most comfortable in the void."

"I see your point. I don't know how the few Abh of your world prefer living on the land than up in space."

"Most do not. The Xanthal clan lives and works primarily in space. There are exceptions, of course, more so because the lifestyle expectations an abh would face in the Empire are quite different here. Still, seventy percent of them serve in the Labule at some point, and a few are employed in other government or private fleets."

"Private fleets? You mean the Socialist Republic allows others to own their own war vessels?"

Caranthir raises an eyebrow at the question. "Of course not. There are, however, several privately-owned transportation companies and other enterprises that operate out of Xanthal and own space ships. Small spacecraft are Xanthal's chief export, so there is a sizable demand for shakedown crews as well."

"Oh I see. What ship is requested the most when Xanthal exports smaller craft?"

He shrugs. "I do not know. There are a lot of different models. The private sector uses technology developed independently of that fielded by the Xanthalian Alphin, for security reasons. Some is manufactured in the Republic, and some is just imported and installed here. One comparing a Xanthalian military vessel to a privately-built ship would never guess they came from the same place. There are radical differences, from basic design philosophy to the types of technologies integrated into them. Our government would never allow military technology to be exported."

"I see. No, I wouldn't expect a nation to export its military technology so freely."

"One would not think so," the elf replies, "but it certainly is common practice among many of our galactic neighbors." The train begins to slow, then grinds to a halt at a rural station with a series of screeches and clatters that remind its passengers of the dual-rail train's antiquity. Caranthir stands and hops down onto the platform, which is framed by a line of trees and brush, with a road running parallel to the track towards a nearby farmhouse illuminated against the dark night by a row of streetlights. There is little sound but for the engine of the train: a soft, drawn-out, high-pitched whistle from an unseen source periodically meets the travellers' ears, and that is obscured as the train proceeds onward without them, clattering noisily on its tracks as the metal groans in protest.

Ceilia looked around at the rural scenery and took in the pleasant silence of the area. The farmhouse scene and street lights reminded her of a painting she had seen on a starship long ago. A smile etched on her face as a pleasant memory resurfaced.

"Shall we go?" Caranthir cuts in to her reverie.

Ceilia shakes herself. "My apologies. Of course, please lead the way."

The two of them begin walking down the road, past the farm as the train rattles into the distance and the whistling noises resume again.

Ceilia listens to the last of the train's sound. "Quite an interesting transportation system. How far to the coastline?"

"Nothing interesting about it, except maybe the fact that something newer wasn't used. I admittedly do not get around much, but the Socialist Republic is the only country I have heard of that still employs such dated designs for general use." He cuts off the road and into the forest once they've left the farmhouse behind. "What do usually do when you are on duty with the Imperial Star Forces?"

"Well I have only just recently finished officers school and was going to be assigned to an Attack Vessel before this assignment. I use to pilot any number ships whether they were communications vessels or larger Roth-class Patrolships. I've even managed to pilot some of our newer ships. We basically patrol the systems within the Empire and I've managed to pilot a few shuttles on diplomatic missions. I haven't really gotten too far in my military career so I have yet to go further into space or more advanced missions."

"Do you not do anything besides piloting?" The walk through the trees is fairly unharassed once one's eyes have fully adjusted to the opressive darkness of night on a world with no moon. That is to say, there is little besides the well-spaced, slender tree trunks and patches of tall grass blocking their path.

"Well as a trainee, your basic job is to aquire your pilot's license which can only be obtained through actual seat time. An officer has to know how to pilot multiple ships since commanding an Attack Vessel requires them to pilot it. Every Abh trainee goes through a specific hands on course depending on what rank they strive to obtain. Of course, everyone goes through various functions of the ship to better understand its workings and therefore better able to command it."

"Is pilot the only position one need train for? What of the staff positions that involve no piloting? They are surely just as important."

"Of course they have to train. Don't be ridiculous. Each staff has classes that they must attend to study and train for each and ever position. Some positions are only obtained through promotions but still a standardized test is given to ensure that they are qualified. Piloting is the only position for both pilots and commanders that requires an excessive amount of experience time. The other positions still require experience time, but not as much."

"That seems odd," he comments, "especially since the Abh can use their alphas."

"What's odd?"

"I have never heard of a training program that focuses so heavily on piloting with starship-class vessels."

"That's not true. The standard supply officer must spend three additional years at the academy before he can be appointed to a ship. He must also serve on a starship to incorporate with his schooling. The senior aviator and all engine crews must go through courses pertaining to anti-matter physics, plane space physics, and computer science. Piloting is just more hands on. The more practice a pilot has, the more proffecient they are. Other officers have to go through more schooling and then serve on board a ship as a trainee."

"I see," Caranthir assents, even though he really doesn't. The ocean comes into view through the trees as they proceed forward.

Ceilia can hear the waves rushing against the shore, the ocean breeze running through her hair, and the smell of the salt air. It was truly a new experience for her. Ceilia never had been to the beach before and had only seen pictures of them before. "What's that smell?"

Caranthir takes an experimental sniff. "What smell?"

Ceilia sniffs the air again. "It smells like...I don't know how to describe it but it seems to be coming from the water carried on the wind currents."

"Brine? Salt?" he ponders. "It is probably a combination of many things. Have you never been to an ocean before?"

"Sort of. I've only seen an ocean in pictures, holographic images, and documentaries. This is my first time actually at the ocean."

Caranthir takes the revelation in stride as they step out onto the steep, rocky shoreline. "I really prefer the ocean on Freeland at night. Something about seeing the water lit up by moonlight heightens the experience. I hope that you can find pleasure in this, too." The sound of the waves gently intrudes upon almost-perfect stillness here, far from the harassment of civilization. To the southeast, over the water, the horizon glows faintly with the light from an unknown coastal city on the continent.

The sea is calm and still, but the cresting waves breaking on the rocks just meters from Ceilia's feet whisper quietly of the water's power. In the absence of a moon's ambient light, the stars above shine with a brilliance that rivals the view from outer space itself. Each moment blends into the next, no different from the one preceeding it, and the peace and harmony is tangible to Caranthir. "For an abh," he says quietly, breaking a silence so natural it didn't even register as a break in the conversation, "I imagine this has little to compare with the glory of space."

Ceilia barely registers Caranthir's remark as she is so entranced with the scene of the stars twinkling from the atmosphere and illuminating the waters below. The soothing sound of water rushing against rocks or caressing the sands of the beach. It was beauty of its own that needed nothing else to enjoy it. Not really answering Caranthir, she merely manages a simple statement that is above a whisper. "So this is why they enjoy living on land."

OOC: there's no sand or beach, but whatever.

IC: Caranthir moves a step closer to Ceilia. "I apologize. What did you say?"

OOC: Heh. At least she didn't say it.

IC:

"Sorry. I was just commenting on the Abh that have become land-dwellers. I believe I now know why they enjoy the land so much."

Caranthir maintains a neutral tone, but it is obvious that he is happy with her reply. "I am sure that there is much to appreciate in the void as well."

"There is but it's so different from anything else. It takes a different view to appreciate it."

"Perhaps it is odd for me to ask you this, Princess, but are you aware that the pride of the Abh frequently manifests itself in a way better described as conceit?" He meets her eyes with a disarming smile, but also a hint of challenge gleaming behind his dilated pupils.

Ceilia looks back out over the water. "I believe you misunderstand the pride of the Abh. That pride comes in a different measure. With regards to a prefernce of living, you have to remember that the Abh race was created for life in space. It is only natural that we feel like we belong there. You could almost call it a comfort zone."

Caranthir folds his hands together behind himself, turning away to look at the water. "If you say so." He breathes deeply of the air, and there enjoys the moment.

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It is more than a month into their stay, and Andrew and Ceilia have settled in as well as can be expected. Both Mark and Caranthir have proved immensely helpful, and though the elf and abh worked quickly through their initial adversity, a deeper rivalry of cultures has begun to surface. This tension has kept them apart as much as it has drawn them together, and only through experience can one understand the resulting dynamic.

The two humans, meanwhile, have gotten along quite well. Andrew has come a long way out of his shell constantly in the presence of his enigmatic liaison, and though Mark remains an annoyance, his company has grown a bit above tolerable to pleasant, so long as the right mindset is maintained. Cymrik has faded more and more from the lives of the foreigners as he has resumed some of his normal diplomatic duties; mostly work he does in a small study at the house they share (he is not to be disturbed from the hours of blah, blah, blah, etcetera, etcetera).

Today is a special day for the class; they are going on a trip to Wakimaisho, the sixth planet in the Than System, for a "cultural enrichment assignment." As they soon learn, these ten-day trips are a monthly (by the Xanthalian calendar, anyway) affair. This is only the first of nine. Now, literally thousands of students have gathered at Doleros Spaceport. At one gate, Caranthir and Mark cling tightly to their charges amidst a milling crowd of students and chaperones from their and another school. The group hug is misconstrued by neither Andrew nor Ceilia as a show of affection, but understood as a necessity to prevent becoming lost from one another as one group after another is loaded onto rapidly arriving and departing shuttles; taken to the massive space station orbiting far above.

The whirl of light and sound, not to mention the smell of sweaty college students of god knows how many species, would give anyone a rough time, but Caranthir seems to be taking it especially hard. The elf's features, especially his ears, literally seem to droop pathetically. The fact that he still looks half his age makes the sight even more pitiable as he breathes deeply to steady his nerves (and his stomach). Mark adjusts his hand, rubbing his schoolmate's shoulder comfortingly. Up-tight Caranthir, rather than rejecting the gesture, seems to appreciate it, a further sign of his stress. "It's alright, man," Mark says quietly. Actually it's more of a yell, but the ambient noise makes anything less inaudible. "We'll be outta here before you know it, and then we'll be in the nice, quiet shuttle." He looks meaningfully at Ceilia, prompting her to give words of encouragement to her beleaguered comrade.

Encouragement in this sort of manner is not exactly ordinary for the Abriel princess. However she does make her best effort. She reaches down to grab his hand and squeezes it. "Come now, this can't be as bad as the time I forced you to look at the art exhibits." Perhaps not the best thing to say, but hey, she's an Abh. You can't expect greatness in the form of sympathy but she does make an attempt.

She brings a faint smile to her friend's face, then they move forward into a hopper shuttle. Suddenly they are faced with relative silence as they take their seats and the cabin door is closed. In less than a minute the ship is airborne, and they are flying up through the atmosphere. Caranthir and Ceilia have been seated together near the front, Mark sits in the row ahead of Andrew on the other side of the hall. A few conversations continue as they ascend, but this is a far cry from the noise of the spaceport. Caranthir is relieved, but no happier than before. He knows as well as anyone the even greater throngs that await on the space station.

Ceilia finds Caranthir's mood quite curious. She would never have taken the elf as the type to be so down hearted just because it was crowded. Andrew on the other hand is finding the change of pace quite exciting and has come to enjoy his stay in the nation and among these people. His mirfakan might not have improved much but he still hasn't regretted this assignment.

Mark takes the initiative to strike up a conversation as they ride along. "Do you do a lot of space travel?" he asks Andrew, calling over his shoulder.

Andrew turned back over his shoulder. "No not really. I have only been off the planet Martine a few times to study abroad. You?"

OOC: Mark is in front of Andrew.

IC: "Oh, hell yes. Even placing school trips aside, I'm hopping around most of the break; with my parents, my friends, or whatever. You just don't get the diversity in Xanthal that you do other places. Which is weird, in a way, since we have so many species here, but the Republic is a pretty conservative place, socially. Besides the obvious," he adds, glancing pointedly at a naked human man a few rows back.

ooc: .....

IC:

Andrew snickers somewhat unmature at Mark's gesture. "Unfortunatly I see what you mean. It seems the Republic is more colorful than I had originally expected."

"And why do you think that is?" Mark asks expectantly. "How can a state have so many people and be so diverse, yet still be one nation? How is the Abh Empire different from the Xanthalian Republic?"

Somewhat taken aback and fearing that he has offended his companion, Andrew seeks to clarify his remark. "It's not. I just wasn't expecting a nudest on this trip."

Mark laughs at Andrew's backpedalling. "No, you're wrong. The Republic is different. The Republic is a nation-state. The Empire is a multinational state. The Republic assimilates where the Empire simply takes title. I've been to several planets within the boundaries of your Empire, and each one is unique. The cultures, the archetecture, the systems of governance all distinct. In the Republic, there are no such distinctions. The government is so omnipresent in our lives that we all grow up with the same provisions, and similar expectations. We have many subcultures, but when all's said and done, our collective loyalty is to our central government. Your Emperor commands the Abh, but he does not... he can not control all the worlds of the Empire. Our government has control of all Xanthal, not just on paper, but in reality. There is no escape from it; we are all willing slaves."

He straightens his neck, facing forward again. "It's hard to say which state is better. The Emperor rules autonomously, but his sphere of influence is relatively limited. We may have a firmer grip on our government, but our government has a firm grip on us as well. I wonder if you can even comprehend the powerlessness of the individual in the Republic."

Andrew sighes internally. "I suppose you are right. The only restrictions that any citizen of the Empire has is that we cannot own our own ships. Repression only comes in the form of the local government which is still closely monitored by the Empire itself. They may not get involved in ground affairs but they do see to stability."

"We both enjoy freedom, just in different ways. While I may lament what I see as shortcomings of the Republic, I choose to live here. For better or worse, I believe in this state, and in the Xanthalian nation. I may have asked you this before," he switches gears as they leave the atmosphere behind and begin to circle around the planet, "but what do you want to be when you're done with school?"

Andrew sits there staring at the floor for a moment. "I really don't know. I love composing and playing music. Who knows. I could come to enjoy travelling to other planets and try my hand at diplomacy or ambassodorial duty."

"Ambitious," Mark replies. "I'll do you one better though. I'm going to be a Triumvir."

Caranthir perks up at this, but his expression becomes even more dismayed. "Corellon help us," he mutters to himself.

Ceilia smirked. "What was that?"

Andrew nodded with approval. "Good luck with that. How much schooling will you need to reach that position?"

"Nothing," Caranthir says quietly, already drooping again, though perhaps slightly less than before.

Mark puffs his chest out in deliberately-exaggerated pride. "Yes, I'm damn good. It's true." He cranes his neck around again to meet Andrew's eyes. "There's no real requirement for education to get the job, but I should think training in the diplomatic and military fields would be beneficial, so that's my plan." He turns the spotlight back on Andrew. "Haven't you considered being an artist of some sort? A musician, maybe? If you're really into that sort of thing, it could be a great interest to pursue."

"I already have a few composition pieces out there in ciculation and I've played at some of the halls on Martine. I just don't know if it's possible to live off of being a musician. I know the Latopanyu family endorses the finest artisans but it's extremely competitive and all the best are chosen."

"You could freelance or something, Mark points out. Not that I'm telling you what to do, but whatever choice you make it should be something you like doing."

"I see what you mean. I suppose I will have to wait and see how everything goes, but until then I believe that I will continue with my music."

The shuttle flies into the station docking bay at a speed that would be unsafe without computer guidance, then touches down gently on the deck. Caranthir is up before anyone, though he looks more like he's marching off to battle than anything. "Settle down," Mark advises. "You've done this often enough; I can't understand why it's still such a chore for you." The airlock opens, and again they smash against a wall of noise. As if on queue, the students aboard the shuttle resume their rowdy conversation as well. Mark grabs Andrew and leads him out into the shuttlebay. "Follow me, and take that poor boy with you," he advises Ceilia, indicating Caranthir, who shows no signs of advancing on his own.

Ceilia looks down at Caranthir. She gently puts an arm around his shoulders and tries to coerce him to move with her. "Come on Caranthir we don't have much further to go."

"Ugh," he groans reluctantly, but allows himself to be led out. They meet up with Mark and Andrew just outside the ship and merge with the river of people heading along the marked-off pathways towards the exit.

It never fails to amaze Ceilia and Andrew at the sheer mass of people that always seem to be congragated around these public transportation systems. Not even the greatest space port in the empire was this crowded. Andrew has to yell over the renewed noise of a mob. "Where do we go now?"

"Deck fifty, section seventeen, gate six. Just stick with me," Mark advises. It takes almost ten minutes for them to reach the exit of the massive landing area, then they are in the hallways. Mark chooses a less-travelled route to bypass most of the station thuroughfares, but there is no such thing as an uncrowded place in the public areas of the station during normal operation. Security officers are everywhere, but they are more symbolic than anything. Most of the crime here is perpetrated quietly by pickpockets and swindlers who stay briefly, then slip away on a transport. It is nice that they don't have any luggage to worry about; they have enough trouble guarding their wallets. Mirfak has only this single station to use as a clearinghouse for most space traffic; so it operates at maximum capacity around the clock, nearly every day of every year.

Ceilia and Andrew both shrug their way through the seemingly endless mass of people. They keep checking around for thieves and feeling for their wallets every now and then to reassure themselves that it they are still there.

After a harassing walk, they arrive at their destination, Caranthir looking barely alive at this point. Fortunately, they are able to board the transport immediately, and take a group of seats away from the bulk of the passengers. Caranthir looks much better almost right away, and Mark smiles with satisfaction. "There, see? Same thing as always. You oughta get treatment or something there, Oronar. It totally cramps our style to drag you around looking like a Castallian without a water pack."

Caranthir rubs his forehead. "If I could understand you when you use that corrupted Earth English, I might have a response."

Andrew and Ceilia both looked confused which would probably be expected with the lack of knowledge for old Earth English and a lack of knowledge about other species. "What is a Castallian?"

"A sentient species native to underwater environments," Caranthir replies. "They require a portable supply of oxygenated water to breathe on land."

Caranthir receives a unified "Oohh" in return.

"How long is this ride?"

"About fourteen Earth Hours," Mark replies quickly. "And we don't launch for at least a half-hour. You might as well get comfortable."

Andrew groans and Ceilia merely reclines somewhat. Andrew rolls his eyes. "Get comfortable is right. We aren't going anywhere. Ceilia, can't you commendere a shuttle and get us there faster."

The Abriel shoots him a threatening glare. "My pilot's license would be revoked immediatly not only would the honor of my family and the Empire be scarred."

"I was only kidding."

"To my understanding," Caranthir interjects, "relativistic effects do not apply in planespace. In theory, this ship could make the trip in much less time, but the fuel consumption required to achieve that speed and decelerate before reaching the destination would be comparatively astronomical. This is a civilian transport on a routine passenger haul, not a fighter responding to a military emergency."

"Bathroom's down the hall that way," Mark says. "Two meals served en route. And, trust me on this, don't order the tskirtsh."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The monotony of the trip is lessened by the availability of reading material and television. Those that need it sleep (Caranthir is unconscious most of the way). Customs at Morä is as violating of privacy as it was in Dolĕros; every item they own scanned and recorded, everything about them loaded into a database, from height and skin color to DNA. Once their harassment is finished, they are split into groups and assigned to a chaperone. One of the supervisors is an abh, but Andrew, Caranthir, Ceilia, and Mark are delegated to a middle-aged than.

Everything from arrival on the planet to arrival at their hotel is a blur; and before they know it the sky, dark when they arrived, is bright with midday sun; and the four are sitting together in the hotel cafeteria (cafeteria is a good word, because it actually looks like something you would find in a school or shopping mall). The population here is disproportionately thanic, and though it is more difficult to tell amongst their classmates, it is easy to see looking out the window. At least half of the people are than. The climate around the equator is very hot; too hot for comfort amongst most of the students. What's more, the strong ultraviolet radiation of the Than star, a blue dwarf, requires almost everyone but the than to slather on so much sunscreen that they might as well have bathed in it.

The buildings here are lower, the style more primitive, and Mark is beginning to get the feeling that the elderly than he met (or rather tried to meet) when he first arrived on Rĕnkö are representative of a prevailing asocial attitude among their species. One nice thing about Wäkemişö is the ring surrounding it, which generates a magnificent aura extending across the sky from the light it refracts from the sun. The sun itself is a menace, not only because of the radiation it produces, but also its intense light which is painful even to fully undilated human pupils. They say looking into any sun is dangerous; but looking at the Than star can cause instant blindness that, in some cases, would be permanent if not for modern medicine.

Caranthir, observing all of this at the table over a salad (how he stays fat eating flowers and leaves all the time is a mystery that even Mark can't solve), sums up the general feeling eloquently. "At least we were not sent to Megukuga."

Mark chuckles. "Well, well, the elf's sense of humor is back. I think we can safely say you've recovered from the journey here." He looks from Andrew to Ceilia with a serious expression. "I know I've said it before, but seriously: don't skimp on the sun lotion. Than will cook you alive if you give it the chance. I've only been here once and I can tell you from experience. I got second-degree burns and temporary blindness in the one week I spent here before I gave up and went home. Thank Xanthal for free healthcare, is all I can say."

Now it's Ceilia's turn for her to be miserable and her ears to droop. If it is at all possible, she looks worse than Caranthir did. Her once gorgeous hair is now all a mess with the heat. Being accustomed to life in space, her skin was once pale but now is beginning to golden much too her horror. Sweat continously drips from her brow when they are walking outside and this shelter is her only sanctuary at the moment. She has been forced to change from modest apparel to something more revealing just for the sake of keeping cool.

"How long is our stay?"

"One week, Xanthalian time," Caranthir says. He isn't built for this climate either, but he seems to be taking it well. He's wearing a swimsuit to cope, and the sunscreen makes it look like he's just come from some erotic massage parlor, oiled down as he is. He's also wearing a t-shirt inside, since the air here is cooled. "That is about eleven point five Earth days."

"Marathon!" Mark chimes in. "Whoever goes the longest without collapsing wins; and I wish I were kidding!"

Caranthir glares at him. "You are not helping."

Ceilia shoots him a glare for good measure as well. "Your devine carefree attitude is not appreciated at the moment."

"Aye aye. Far be it from me to oppose the dreaded pointy-eared duo." Caranthir puts his forehead in his hands despairingly. The group is interrupted at this opportune moment by their thanic chaperone, who chitters out a set of instructions relayed in Mirfakan by its translator, then in English by Andrew and Ceilia's devices.

"We are leaving in ten minutes to tour the city. Make any preparations you must now."

Ceilia waits for the than to leave before letting out a loud groan. "Preparations? How can anyone prepare to go back out into that blazing infernal."

Her chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh. "I need to apply more sun screen."

"I can help," Mark volunteers cheekily. Then, "Ouch!" as Caranthir kicks him in the shin under the table.

Ceilia shoots him another glare though more menacing and threatening than the last. "No thank you."

"I just remembered," Mark covers. "I've got some... stuff to get. Upstairs." He excuses himself, rubing his injured leg as he rises.

Caranthir nods at Ceilia. "He really is a fine person, you know. He is just very... lively. I think that is a good word." He watches as Mark disappears around the corner to the hall with the levity of a slapstick comedy actor, whistling cheerfully. Turning to Andrew (that he would acknowledge Andrew over Ceilia is a major step for his relationship with the human), he inquires, "Is there anything specific you would like to see while you are on this planet?"

Andrew smiles. He seems to be taking the weather in stride. "Yeah, some shade. What's on the list for our tour?"

"I know only what you know," he says. "If you want an itinerary, you will have to ask Kinteen," referring to their chaperone.

"That's alright it's not important. I was only curious. I guess I'll go get some more water before we head back on out." Andrew excuses himself.

"I will go as well," Caranthir decides. He stands and heads upstairs.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

After everyone is as prepared as they can be for the unpleasant journey ahead of them, they line up at the door with one other student, a than that neither of them have met, behind their guide and march out into the daylight. The experience is not unlike walking into an oven. It is tolerable, but only just. "First," their leader notes, "we will visit the commercial district. We will be walking instead of using the train so that you can become used to the climate. Stay close to me. Any deviance will be reported, and the offender dealt with accordingly." With that, they begin their march down the dusty street.

Ceilia eyes practically bulge out of their sockets when she hears the announcement that they are to walk the entire length. Being back in the palace with servant following her around, no longer seems such a bad idea. Thoughts quickly change to choking the life out of their leader for making her walk.

Andrew on the other hand handles the heat as he has always been. He begans whistling a favorite symphony.

Caranthir reads the anger in the Abh's eyes and decides to move away a step. Mark has no such inhibitions, and he prattles on almost continuously as they walk. "I heard that they build low here because it's dangerous for construction crews to get any closer to the sun. Look at all the than here. This is just a small city, you know; Thalik is much more impressive. Can you believe that people actually live here?"

Andrew is the only one of the two that would even think about answering Mark at this point in time. "Why would anyone want to live here? Doesn't the heat bother them?"

"The than evolved here," the thanic student replies matter-of-factly. "We are ideally suited to this environment. That others choose to live here despite the inadequacy of their physiological tolerances is their choice."

"Hey," Mark says, "what's your name, anyway? We didn't really get to talk earlier."

"Knowledge of the Sixth Word," the brown-shelled than replies. "You may address me as Knowledge."

"Righto," Mark nods. "Well, I'm glad at least some among us don't have a problem with this sun."

"Well I suppose that makes sense about the thans. What I don't understand is why anyone else would want to live here."

"Some people don't mind the challenge," Mark suggests. "It does get better with time, I imagine. People certainly have lived in worse conditions. There are very few environmentally sensitive species living here though. Only Megukuga has fewer humans and xanthalians as a percentage of total population."

"To each his own I guess." Andrew shurgs, a little sweat dripping off his nose as he returns to his whistling.

By all accounts, there is nothing remarkable about the thanic homeworld besides its sun. They are allowed to look through museums and stores, all of which are no more or less interesting than something one could find almost anywhere. They even watch a movie (this idea is supported by everyone but the than mainly because it involves spending two hours in a dark, air-conditioned room); but again it is a flick released internationally. When they head back to the hotel, after another generous slathering of sunscreen, the sun has descended considerably, but the heat hasn't abated in the least. Even high-spirited Mark has deflated under the scorching sun and the uncomfortable feeling of the oily sunscreen. Caranthir is drooping all over again, and has taken to walking in Ceilia's shadow for what little relief it provides. Their guide and Arĕst are, of course, blissfully unaffected by any of this.

Andrew leans in close to Mark. "Now I think I know why we saw those nudists on the transport."

"Bwa ha ha ha!" Mark bursts out laughing. "Maybe, but for most of those people it's more of a lifestyle choice. It would probably be wiser to wear clothes covering the whole body to help block the ultraviolet light, but then you'd be liable to die of heat stroke. This, my friend, is a game you can't win at. Unless you're them," he points at the than.

"It's a cruel game. I think a solar wind would be cooler than this. I bet if you put a waterpark in, the water would evaporate as soon as it hit the tubes."

"Now you are exaggerating," Caranthir says. "The average temperature of this world is only twenty-two degrees celsius. Even at the equator, it rarely exceeds fifty degrees."

"It's called artistic liberty," Mark points out. "You wouldn't know anything about it, mister 'nature is the only true art.'"

"I may be exaggerating....but not by much."

Ceilia smirks, the first time she has since arriving on this planet. "So that's your art form."

"Is that a problem?" the elf challenges.

Still smiling, "Oh no. Not at all. I firmly believe that art has many forms which all can be equally appreciated. Instead of going to an art museum, we could have just headed to the ocean side sooner."

"In the course of life, one learns that it's not always about him," Caranthir retorts haughtily.

Arĕst looks at them strangely. "Why are you speaking English so much?"

"Perhaps but I enjoy all forms of art and do not like to have my company feeling miserable if it can be helped."

Andrew bows apologetically to their chauffer.

OOC: Arĕst is the student.

IC: As they approach the hotel, which is the tallest building in sight at ten stories, the group becomes aware of ominous clouds rolling in from what they can only guess is the southwest. This is primarily noticable because the clouds black out the sun almost entirely when they intercept the disc of light, leaving only the ambient illumination. The percieved temperature drops immediately by a good ten degrees; still quite warm, but pleasantly so. Their feeling of salvation is short-lived, however, as it becomes readily apparent that the incoming storm is hazardous. The clouds fairly glow with electric energy, and spider lightning crackles across them ferociously, searching for an object to strike. From dozens of miles away they begin to hear the first rumblings of thunder. Their guide quickens its pace noticably.

Ceilia looks back frequently at the oncoming storm as it is one of the first times she has been in the middle of such. She has seen many atmospheric storms from orbit, but never on the planetside. It was almost....malliciously intriguing.

Many students spend a sleepless night at the hotel as the storm unleashes its terriffic and unrelenting fury on the city. The thunder is a constant rumble interrupted frequently by powerful blasts of light and sound as a bolt of lightning strikes nearby (they later learn that what they had percieved to be antennas arranged throughout the city are lightning rods, which all of Wäkemişö's populated areas are equipped with to guard their populations from the planet's famous electric storms).

The entirety of the next day is spent inside except by a few brave souls that can endure the lightning and thunder. Mark, of course, has to go out to experience the magnificence of the whole affair; and he tries to convince the rest of his group to go as well. "Vi olĭn, ĕsti ibäl," he prods their thanic classmate.

"Eä," the bug replies for the fourth time, then turns and walks off.

"Bah," Mark waves him off. "Don't mind him," to Andrew now. "So, what do you say? Let's have some fun, eh? Singin' in the rain and all that. Well," he looks out the window, "there's no rain, but it's an awesome storm anyway." The young man is correct; though the storm has been out in force for almost fifteen hours straight, not a drop of rain has fallen.

Andrew waves off Mark. "I believe this is my first storm of this magnitude. The atmosphere of Martine doesn't allow for such electric storms. I think it would be best if I just watch it from the window."

"Oh, for pete's sake. You came here to experience new things, right? It's not going to hurt you."

Just as Mark finishes, another lightning bolt makes contact with a lightning rod. Andrew gulps and hangs his head. He looks up to Ceilia. "If I die, don't tell my parents that I was doing something stupid. Tell them I got shoved out of an airlock or something. Anything has to be a more honorable death than this."

He turns his gaze towards Mark and nods as if to say "lead-on."

"Don't be such a pansy," Mark chides.

Caranthir rolls his eyes and moves to follow him. "If you two go alone, you will undoubtedly get into trouble. I want to experience this anyway."

Mark looks to Ceilia. "Well? C'mon, give in to the peer pressure. You know you want to."

Ceilia rolls her eyes. "Well someone has to chaperone you boys."

"Damn straight," Mark agrees. "Onward!"

The quartet marches out the door with Mark in the lead. The feeling is literally electric. The air itself is charged with electricity, and the sound... oh! the sound is hardly bearable when a bolt of lightning finds its mark on a nearby rod. The wind is strong and steady to the north-northeast. The streets are not nearly as empty as one might think under the circumstances. Though the aamount of traffic has noticably declined from the previous day, the reduction in foot traffic is, in reality, no more than twenty or thirty percent. Apparently the natives aren't unused to this sort of weather.

"I must be insane following you fools out here in this weather." Ceilia reaches up and removes her tiarra out of fear of it being drawn to the lightning.

"Relax," Mark says. "The lightning rods were built for a reason. There hasn't been a death by lightning strike in an urban area of Wakimaisho for decades."

Caranthir seems to be enjoying the storm immensely now that he's outside in it. His expression is one of bliss, drinking in the feeling of power unleashed by nature.

Ceilia smirks as she watches Caranthir be mesmorized by the lightning display though she doesn't let him see her watching. Andrew on the other hand flinched everytime a lightning bolt streaked across the sky. "Well this is fun."

"Isn't it, though?" Mark drapes an arm around him. "You're so skittish. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were brought up in a lab. I'd expect you to be braver than the sheltered princess, at least."

An elf-like ear twitched hearing Mark's statement. "This sheltered Princess has already served five years in Star Forces. I wouldn't recommend throwing around 'you were brought up in a lab' remark so freely. You never know when you might come across someone that was."

"Why, did I hurt your feelings?" Mark clucks. "What's to be ashamed of? If you can't make peace with the circumstances of your own creation I can't imagine your life being a very happy one."

"That is true," Caranthir points out. "I have often wondered myself why the Abh are sensitive about their heritage." He has to shout the last part over a rumble of thunder.

Ceilia crosses her arms underneath her chest. "Hardly. We are hardly sensitive about our heritage and see nothing wrong with our methods of creation. Your joke just wouldn't be funny if you said that to an Abh. Not that it is funny in the first place."

"If you're comfortable with it, then why be so defensive?" Mark inquires. Caranthir drifts away to the other side of the street, leaving his companions to their exchange while he enjoys the weather.

"I am not defensive about my birth. I just find it amusing that you believe I am sheltered when you are talking to an individual who spends their days sitting in his room tapping his foot to the beat of an orchestra."

Andrew feigns being hurt. "That's low your Highness."

"They certainly raise 'em spunky in the Empire," Mark chuckles. "You're my kind of people, you know?" A bolt of lightning hits the rod atop a nearby store, lighting the whole area brilliantly for an instant and leaving them all blinking the spots of light out of their eyes and shaking the ringing from their ears.

Ceilia and Andrew turn to watch the remaining light show that envelops the sky. Every now and then one flinches as a bolt makes contact with a nearby rod. The experience is truly an adrenalin rush with being in the middle of such a fierce storm.

Abruptly, Mark turns around and heads back towards the doors of their hotel. "Well, that's my fix. I'm going back in before the Joker finds out we left without his divine blessing." He chortles to himself at the nickname. Their guide's given name is thanic for 'value,' which is pronounced 'joke' in Mirfakan; thus 'the Joker.'

Ceilia raises an eyebrow. "What does he mean by 'Joker'?"

Andrew just shrugs. "I have no idea."

Caranthir drifts past them absently, still caught up in the moment, but apparently not so much so that he doesn't agree with Mark. He goes in as well.

"Well I suppose we better follow suit. Come Andrew. Let's head inside and get some rest."

Andrew remains standing while Ceilia moves on. "Go ahead. I'll be along shortly."

The rest of their trip is filled with sun. Caranthir, despite complaining the least among all of them, is the first to go to the hospital, where he is treated for hyperthermia and heat exhaustion. Ceilia goes in next, and spends a day having her severely sunburnt skin removed and replaced with a new layer. Apparently going from pale to tan in just a few days isn't very healthy.

By day seven everyone's back on their feet, and again the Joker leads them out into the blazing sun; this time to meet with the city's mayor at the government center. Caranthir is grimly tolerant of the heat, while Mark speculates loudly about the impact of his last visit to Wakimaisho on his endurance. "The sunscreen is the key, but that's not all. You've gotta be tough. You need to have the complexion to live here, and know your limits." He puts a friendly arm around Ceilia's shoulder. "Know what I mean?"

Ceilia looks down at Marks arm then looks back up. If she is amused, she doesn't show it. "And you would expect someone who lives in space most of her entire life to be tan?"

"Not really. Should I?" He examines her expression. "Oh, come on. Don't be such a sourpuss. I don't like it either, but this climate is hard on almost anyone. No use in letting it drag you down."

"I'm not letting it drag me down. It just can't be helped with the overbearing light and oppressing heat are bringing me down." Mark should consider himself lucky that he even got this much of a sarcastic remark for his question. It only proves that all-in-all, she wasn't in too bad of a mood.

"You know," he replies, "you're awfully touchy even when you're in a good mood. Do they teach you that, or does it come naturally?"

Ceilia glares at him. "It comes naturally."

Mark removes his arm from her shoulders and backs off a few steps. "Jeez, woman. If looks could kill..."

"Individual planets in the Empire are governed by nobles." Caranthir interrupts loudly, stepping between them and grabbing onto Ceilia's dress to divert her attention. "Is it within their authority to hand power down to other institutions?"

Ceilia is somewhat taken aback by the random question but quickly composes herself. "I would suppose you could say that. I imagine that it is more delegating power than handing it down. Power is given to the police departments to maintain law and order Authority can be given to another in the event that a noble must return to active duty until they return. Also, power can be passed to a relative should the noble not wish to rule."

"Can the noble pass power only to relatives?"

"I have only heard of it being done on rare occassions. It typically requires a lot of paper work, written explaination, and approval of the replacement. It's usually easier to pass it to a relative when available."

"Why doesn't the Emperor allow planets to be governed democratically if they want?" Mark inquires, having made his way around to Ceilia's other side.

"Many planets do elect their governors democratically others have had their planets governed by a sole ruler. It makes no difference to the Empire who governs it as long as it is governed well."

"And what criteria is used to determine how 'well' a planet is ruled?" Mark asks, looking unconvinced.

"Well if the ruler is elected democratically, the Empire tends to not care what they do. If that ruler makes a mistake or they are disatisfied with them, it is their responsibility to fix it. The people did elect them afterall."

"Surely the Emperor must control them somehow," Caranthir pesters. "The Empire has laws, and I can't imagine it allows planets under its jurisdiction to violate them. Given the fact that not all worlds have joined the Empire willingly, I find it hard to believe that there are no instances of disobedience to the Imperial throne."

"They are controlled by small garrison forces to ensure that peace is maintained. The Empire does not get involved in ground affairs and the only interest in other planets that we had was to make sure that galactic war did not break out over trade and resources. Our rules only enforce that nations have no ships without the permission of the emperor and even then they are loaned to merchants and nobles."

"That must make for some pretty diverse planets," Mark observes.

Ceilia smiles. Perhaps the first time in a long time. "People should be free to choose who they want to govern them and how they want to govern themselves. We do not interfere with it. Freedom within an empire. A strange thing."

"Strange, but not unusual," Caranthir adds. "Most nations are governed by one person or small, unelected bodies, but substantially fewer are unduly opressive. It is surprising how much moderation can be shown by an autocratic regime."

"I still say that doesn't justify those systems," Mark protests. "First off, autocratic states are less stable than a well-constructed democratic republic. Secondly, the absence of democracy is more often due to insecurity of the leaders than any overarching strategy, no matter what they may proclaim. And finally, about the Empire, only people from a few top families can be selected to lead. Justify that."

"Many people would disagree with you. There are many forms of government that are highly stable, more so than democracy. Old caste systems were extremely stable. It's quite unfair to say that democracy is the best form of government when it doesn't work for everyone. Some people want order more than equality or their liberal freedoms. Order comes best from an empire or other such forms of government. And think about your last statement for a moment. An empire choosing its ruler from the best of leading families. We have the right to choose our rulers by any means and this is the most effective way of choosing a ruler than just allowing a successor to assume the throne without any qualifications."

"Anyone who thinks that the qualifications of a leader are necessarily influenced by their social status or heritage is either misinformed or just stupid."

"That is enough, Mister Woessner," Caranthir stops him. "In case you have again forgotten, the Princess and Mister Reedie are here as a show of Imperial goodwill and trust. Your lack of common curtesy is embarassing."

"I wasn't aware that they needed to be shielded from negative public opinion," Mark replies curtly. "What do you say Ceilia? You're not afraid of a little debate, are you?"

"Of course not, but you may want to do a little more research on the empire before you start a debate with an Abh. Future rulers go through some of the most gruelling inquistions to date. A parliamentrary system is a joke compared to what the ex-emperor's council is capable of. We do not just pick anyone to replace the emperor. Requirements have to be met and everything you have done in your past is brought out in the open and questioned. No Abriel has secrets. Choosing a leader based on popularity and not qualifications is a very human trait."

"I may not be an expert on the Empire, but you haven't put so much as a dent in my argument," Mark retorts. "If you're so concerned with qualifications, why don't you seek out the most qualified person in the Empire, not just from a small pool of privileged royalty? If you can find such capable leaders from among a few dozen or hundred people, imagine the success you would have with all the Empire to choose from. Why limit yourself? Furthermore, why deny everyone that's not a part of the elite ruling class the chance to prove themselves as capable leaders?" Caranthir steps up his already quick pace (his short legs require him to run just to keep up with what is a brisk trot for the others) to pull ahead and walk alongside their chaperone, apparently deciding that this isn't his conversation anymore.

"It is simply how we see fit to run the Empire. An emperor must have a good military record to run a galactic empire which is also how we choose a successor. Not only that but the emperor must be fair and impartial. I have never seen a human act such a way and the Abriels are the only Abh clan that have proven to act this way. Every Abh has agreed to their authority as royalty. You seem to believe that we meddle in the affairs of every planet and every person. We do not. The affairs of the ground worlds are for those that dwell on them. We merely ensure that they are well supplied and protected. Space is what we rule and control. People on planets are free to govern themselves however they see fit.

"Not as long as you dominate the space around them," Mark replies. "You take away their freedom to choose their own destiny in the universe, setting loose a government of your own choosing and locking down the whole world. The nations you conquer lose all power, all diplomatic contact, all hope for a future beyond their own planet. You say the affairs of ground worlds don't concern you? They should. They are slaves, trapped by the Abh's greed for control. Your people have become used to shirking responsibility, complacent in their knowledge of their own subjects. I have visited worlds under imperial control; and while they may look fine from an orbiting starship your own ignorance and fear prevent you from seeing the truth of their situation.

"Your pride blinds you to the plight of commoners. Your training can never give you an understanding of life among the people you rule. Ignoring them is not a virtue, it is a failure of the Emperor and all who have preceeded him. If your people will not take responsibility for their holdings, they should release them and let them find their own way. If you think your fairness and impartiality make you qualified to lead, you should abandon your life as an Abriel and travel the Imperial realm. I have met just and wise people in my narrow experience that cast into shadow the prideful facade you call impartiality. Perhaps it is the way you see fit to run the Empire, but that is the decision of the Abh, not the people they have forced under their spiked wings in blind pursuit of their own ambitions."

"Perhaps from your perspective. There are many planets and nations that have willing joined the empire and are given full Abh status and enjoy all the benefits that go along with it. In other systems, well to the victors go the spoils. Since when were conquered people ever happy about their rulers? Yet they still receive all the necessary materials and are free to go about their lives."

Mark sighs. "I suppose I shouldn't expect sympathy for the commoners from a member of the ruling class. It's just a shame that the Abh are so narrow-minded."

"I suppose the same could be said for you. Someone who believes that the proper form of government is the one where the system is bogged down with procedures and a response to the people sometimes takes weeks. A system where only the wealthy and popular are elected."

"If that is how you believe democracy works, you should take a closer look at non-capitalist democratic republics. Procedures stop foolish decisions from being made, checks and balances ward off corruption, and the popular appeal that candidates must have is a test of their charisma and ability to serve effectively as a spokesperson for the public as well as their intelligence and policy. Certainly there is a price to pay, but even in the worst of democracies the people have a choice of who leads them. The Empire gives them none, working for its own advancement and leaving its subjects to fend for themselves once the Emperor's interests are satisfied."

"So in your form of democracy, every person's voice is heard? That must take quite some time. Of course representative democracy is far more efficient and a commonality can be drawn between both systems since people on every planet are free to choose their leaders which represent them before the empire. So you can complain about the way things are governed in the empire but we tend to stress the better for the whole over the individual."

"The voices of the people are heard through their votes, and more if they choose. People in the Republic represent themselves to the government. Further, the people of Imperial worlds do not select their leaders; the Emperor does. The Imperial throne installs whatever nobles it sees fit, and readily redistributes power when a planet's government acts against the Emperor's will, regardless of the opinion of the citizens. In a republic, government action is justified by the collective will of the people it represents. In a non-democratic autocracy such as the Empire, the only will that matters is that of the Emperor, who represents only the will of the highest nobles. That is tantamount to plutocratic monarchy. The Emperor need only care about his people enough to keep them from rebelling."

"You couldn't be more wrong. The Emperor doesn't disapprove of anyone who is elected by their people. As I already said, they are free to choose who they wish to govern them on the planets. They pass their own laws. The last law that the an emperor passed that affected all peoples was the law stating that anyone could become an abh if they wished. And that was many years ago."

"Then I submit you have had an extraordinary streak of libertarian rulers. My premises stand; the potential for abuse is there. The only barrier is the people in the position. People, no matter how cautiously selected, are the weakest link in any government. They are influenced by passion, desire, and ambition. Those who trust their leaders to overcome their base instincts in order to make the system work are doomed to eventual catastrophe. Even you, an Abriel who prides herself on her fairness and detachment from personal feelings, are burdened by personal ambition and emotional attachments. A strong will may hold back the current, but even the strongest will is worn on by time and hardship; and when a crack appears in a dam, it is only a matter of time before the water bursts through. I may despise your elitism, but the real danger I see in your system is that: decisions made with the efficiency your system is best known for; so efficient, indeed, that by the time the Emperor is removed the damage is irreversibly done."

"Then I guess it is as you say. We are fortunate to have a string of good rulers for so long as well as having the ex-emperor's council to keep an eye on the dealings within the empire."

"I don't mean to be hostile, you know," Mark muses, seeming far more amiable now that a consensus of sorts has been reached. "I just can't agree with a system based on exclusivity rather than inclusivity."

"It's quite alright. No one ever said that everyone in the universe had to agree with one another. If they did, life would be extremely boring."

"Ha!" Mark exclaims. "So it would; though the desire for homogeniety is strong amongst many in the Republic. From that perspective, it is we who are, perhaps, less enlightened than your people."

"Perhaps, but in the grand scheme of things, your people are still different from mine. That still makes you all interesting."

"Everyone loves an adventure," Mark shrugs, now back to his cheery old self. "So, anything you'd like to know before we get to the government center?"

"How does democracy in the Socialist Republic work on the galactic scale from planet to planet?"

"All planets are tied together by the state government. Each province has its own government as well, and geographically-larger provinces frequently incorporate local governments, too. Provincial and local governments can make laws, but they tend to be more concerned with administrative duties."

"I see. But how are they repressented as a whole? You must have a homeworld where all governments can come together and discuss matters. How are you all represented at this level?"

"Lower governments have no special right to stand before higher governments. The state legislature is composed of representatives from each province, who make decisions for Xanthal as a whole. The state judiciary also arbitrates all disputes between government entities within Xanthal. Lower levels of government can send representatives to bring grievances to their superior government, but there is little cause for local or provincial governments to congregate together."

"I see. So it is your state legislatures that represent all these people in Xanthal?"

"There is only one state legislature. That is the Council, which includes six hundred members, each representing a different provincial district."

Ceilia sighs finally getting the answer she had been wanting. "Is there only one member per provincial district?"

"Corrrect," Mark nods. "The number of districts in a province depends upon the population of the province."

"And is there a single leader that is elected to represent your people on the galactic scale like a president or does the power stay with the legislatures?"

"I'm surprised they didn't tell you about any of this during your orientation," Mark notes. "The executive branch is in charge of international affairs, including the diplomatic functions and the military. It is headed by three popularly-elected officials that we call 'Lanalphini,' though it is usually translated as 'Triumvirs.'"

"They did cover who your elected officials are. I am just slightly unfamiliar with what their roles are in the government and what their scope is."

"Well, you can think of the Alphin as the first-responder to any international incident. As a matter of course, the Council has to approve the Triumvirate's treaties and any major deployments of military or resources, but the Triumvirs have a wide degree of discretion, and in most instances they can take action without legislative approval to respond to emergencies."

"I see."

(I'll have to get on AOL some time then to discuss where to go with this thread)

"Tĕl trmĭni var," "That concludes the show," their guide announces to the group; ending the half-hour walk through the corridors of the sprawling single-story concrete building, which, if nothing else, is pleasantly air-conditioned. "Pĕl tĕkĕn äsk?" "Are there any questions?"

Ceilia looked around but didn't see any questions forthcoming. Being the kind and outgoing Abriel that she was, she decided to ask her own question. "Poseb zĕke owäri tö ălfĭntot ălWäkemisö?"

The woman looks shocked at the question. "Ălfĭntot nähĕnăl..." "Planetary dictator..." she stares at Ceilia helplessly. The sentence dangles like a thread; one which Mark, naturally, picks up.

"Sio. Wä wämki ök mästri zolkäl ŧeoi Se Köfăl. Ök ĕsti länolĭn." "Excuse me. I believe that it meant wants to meet the city governor. It is a foreigner."

Their guide's face lights up with new understanding. "Äää! Ĭgmi wä. Wä ästi ĕnli ĭf ök ästi ŧeoi sĭle. Kalĕl ni keb." "Forgive me. I will find out whether it will meet you. Please wait here." She moves away and exchanges a few words with the lobby receptionist, then disappears down the hall. The students and their thanic chaperone wait idly.

Mark smiles at Ceilia, impressed. "You've been practicing your Mirfakan. Not bad for someone who's only been in the country a few months."

Ceilia blows a blue strand of her hair off to the side. "Still not good enough though. I think I almost gave our guide cardiac arrest."

"At least it was funny," Mark quips.

"How have you studied?" Caranthir, who has been quiet most of the trip, inquires. "It sounded as if you had been picking words out of a dictionary."

Ceilia strugs. "Well not exactly but that's close. For this trip I have been studying words that may come in to use, while refreshing on words that I have already learned. I then go over my tenses and possesive forms so that there is no meaning gained or lost."

"You should concentrate more on the strict definitions of the words you choose;" the elfin child advises. "You literally asked the guide if 'maybe we see dictator of Wakimaishu.' Word choice aside, your form is too indirect. Address your request directly to whom you are speaking, and remember to phrase it like a command; but adjust the tone of your voice to make it clear you are asking a question: 'Sĭl ästi ĕnli ĭf Se Köfăl ästi ŧeoi zĕke?'" "Will you find out if the city governor will meet us?" Ceilia's translator chimes in helpfully.

"Or, more literally," Caranthir points out, "'You will discover if City Governor will meet us?'"

"I know it sounds a bit direct, but you'll get used to it," Mark smiles encouragingly.

Ceilia sighes once again this time hooking a loose strand behind her pointed ear. "It seems I will have to try harder from now on."

"Nobody's perfect. Keep at it," Mark advises. "You've been awfully quiet," he says, to Andrew now. "Something on your mind?"

Andrew was off staring at one of the walls not really paying much attention to anything. The question shakes him from his deep trance. "Huh-what? Oh nothing. Just staring off into space. So, where are we off to next?"

Mark chuckles. "Nice. Off in your own little world." He nudges Ceilia. "He do that often?"

"Hard to say. I've only known him a few monthes." The Abriel snorted. "Sometimes I think he day dreams about a massive symphony and playing in front of a full audience."

"Sometimes and other times it's just daydreaming about beautiful girls."

Ceilia rolls her eyes at the last remark.

"I hear that," Mark exalts. He looks over at the entrance to the hallway where the building staffer went, presumably to speak to the governor. "How long do you think she'll take?"

Andrew leans over to look down the hall. "I have no idea but she hasn't been gone that long."

Ceilia leans back and crosses her arms. "It was only a simple question. She didn't have to go make any special request. I was only curious if that would be a part of the tour."

Mark joins Ceilia in her relaxation. "Hey, just because you're not royalty here doesn't mean people won't be nice to you. Granted there's some stigma attached to the abh in this part of the galaxy, but Xanthal isn't known for its racism. Only the elders amongst the long-lived species could still be hung up on what happened to the People's Republic four hundred years ago."

"It seems that there are some things that all people cling to and never forget. However, I haven't had any problems thus far in the Republic. If someone has had an issue with my pressence, they have kept it quiet to themselves."

"Just don't try to start a dialogue with any National Collectivists and you should be fine," Mark advises.

They are interrupted by the tour guide, who re-emerges from the hall and motions for them to follow. "Köfä tĕkĕn metăki ŧeoi sĭle. Kalĕl posti wä." "The governor has agreed to meet with you. Please follow me."

Andrew and Ceilia both stand up while Ceilia leans over and whispers to Mark. "Who are the National Collectivists?"

"Members of the Nationalist Collectivization Party. They're convinced that Xanthal is an oasis in a universe of corruption and evil. They think Xanthal would be best off isolating itself."

As the group enters the governor's office, Mark presses Ceilia to the front, where she comes face to face with a silver-colored than, the first of its color she's seen, dressed in a tight black uniform that resembles spandex. "Hello," it introduces itself in its native language. "I am Guiding Light, Governor of Mora." It bows shallowly. "I am told you asked to see me."

ooc: sorry, mirfakan page wasn't working. Just consider itallicized mirfakan.

IC:
Her feet skidded across the floor as Mark nudged her forward. Ceilia bowed slightly at the Than. "Hello I-." She clears her throat then restarts again in Mirfakan. "Hello. My name is Abriel Nei Ramaral Ceilia from the Abh Empire. Our school group was here touring the planet and government facilities, so I was curious if we could speak with you about the governmental structure here."

OOC: The governor is speaking Than anyway. The guy has a translator of his own, but rather than relay things in Mirfakan and Engllish, I just isolated what Ceilia's translator would put out. Unfortunately, it's nearly impossible for me to accurately judge what Ceilia is saying without a Mirfakan transcript, so I'm going to treat your italicised text as if it were spoken in English. Sorry about that.

IC: The governor looks among the gathered students. "You are all foreigners?"

"No," Mark corrects. He uses English for andrew and Ceilia's benefit, since Light's translator will process it into Than anyway. "Just these two," he indicates Ceilia and Andrew.

"Okay. What do you want to know?"

ooc: alright that page is seriously being inconvenient. and haven't seen you on AOL for a while

IC:

Ceilia fixes her dress slightly somewhat off guard with the questioning. She really hadn't expected a meeting of this nature. Her thoughts were more along the line of a boring bureacrat giving a speech about his position and the scope of his duties. A one-on-one conversation was something different.

Her composure was regained quickly and some of that Abriel pride returned as well. "Some of our fellow students were trying to explain the idea of representation and the particulars of the Socialist Republic's government. I am curios as to what the scope of your authority is. What does your authority cover and where does the larger Socialist government's authroity supercede your own?"

"The provincial governments may legislate any matter not legislated by the state, and local officials, like myself, can make rules so long as they don't contradict laws on the state or provincial levels. I personally am in charge of managing the city's public services and making municipal policy. The Assembly is Mora's version of a legislature, they are not in session at the moment. Our first duty is to the laws of the superior governments, because those governments make, among other things, the laws for local governance. Then it is my responsibility to be sure that city police are informed of and enforce all local laws. I am also frequently called to represent Mora at public and private events."

"Interesting. As a governor of a local province, what do you find most challenging about your job?"

"I govern only the city, not a province," the than corrects. "As for the difficulty of my responsibilities, I personally find ceremonial duties most trying." He adds a rattling chitter to the end of this statement that the translator apparently doesn't pick up on.

"I do not understand Than," Caranthir whispers to Andrew from the back of the group, "but I believe that the governor is getting impatient." Their chaperone seems to agree, and shifts its weight uncomfortably. Obviously the silver than is an imposing figure to the Joker.

"Thank you. I have only one more question then we will let you get back to work. Do you have any intentions of running for a higher office?"

"Not now," he replies curtly. "The city of Mora thanks you for your interest. Good bye." Their chaperone earnestly herds them out, and sets a brisk pace until they're out of the building.

Strange and a bit rude, Ceilia thought. Though, she didn't always agree with how these people thought or what they said so she just let it slide. She looked over at Mark. "Are all of your politicians so 'nice'?"

"Than don't have a reputation for great kindness, especially green- and silver-shells. However, everyone's an individual. There are few generalizations that would fit all the people in Xanthalian politics. Governor Light may seem unsociable, but you must remember that he has a job to do, and we were intruding."

"I didn't ask to intrude. I was just curious if that would be part of the tour."

"All the more reason to improve your language skills," Mark smiles. "One of these days you might really give someone the wrong idea."

"Well what would you like me to say?" She was quickly realizing that this conversation was getting her nowhere. " I'm a foreigner and I was wondering if your democratic officials are a part of this sight seeing adventure? I'd like to stare and gawk at them."