Year 25 Day 89
In the vast expanse of the galaxy, where star systems spun their cosmic ballet, the Confederacy of Independent Systems (CIS) found itself entangled in a bureaucratic quagmire. Their once-clear path toward galactic independence now resembled a hyperspace route fraught with detours and dead ends.
But bureaucracy, it seemed, was a universal constant. Several years ago it was the Red Glasses Movement, raising support for a young Chiss from the indigenous of the planet Zrak. This was rivaled by the Green Glasses Party from Hassaria, who openly mocked their Red Glassed comrades from the north, which almost led to civil war. It was only through a shake up of the Confederate Triumvirate that open hostilities were avoided.
Or so the citizens of the Confederate Systems thought!
Suddenly, the location of the “true” headquarters of the CIS came into question. The growing government had established headquarters in three pivotal systems: Zrak, Asher, and even in southern Coveway. Each system vied for supremacy, believing that proximity to the heart of the Confederacy would grant them influence and prestige.
Zrak, a temperate world with rolling grasslands and azure oceans, boasted a grand citadel, which looked similar to the fertility god of the local Heep-Heep. Its spire reached for the sky, and within its marble halls, senators debated policy, while droids scurried about with datapads. Chancellor Zrak, a charismatic member of the Scrapper Guild, held court here. Yet, as the sun dipped below the horizon, whispers echoed through the corridors. Was this truly the heart of the CIS, or merely a façade?
Asher, a desert planet baked by twin suns, harbored a fortress carved into the rocky cliffs. Its walls bore ancient hieroglyphs, and the air hummed with mysticism. Here, the Separatist Council convened—distinguished beings from across the galaxy. Archduke Poggle the Lesser, his Geonosian wings twitching, presided over heated debates. Yet, as the councilors sipped nectar tea, they squinted at star charts. Was Asher the true nexus, or a mirage in the shifting sands?
Coveway, nestled deep in the South-West of the Galaxy, flaunted a modern Conference Center. Constructed last year through the Corporate Alliance, this sparkling new building in New Cygarr Landing certainly seemed like the potential crown jewel of the options available. Yet Coveway was out of the way for most regular citizens.
The biggest question seemed to revolve around the lack of headquarters in Tar Mordan and Hassaria, two of the largest and most developed systems in the Confederacy. From orbit, a mobile command ship—the Subjugator Class Heavy Cruiser Vigilance. Its sleek hull shimmered with holographic displays, and General Teyla Secura paced its bridge. She was a Twi’lek of resolve, her lekku adorned with silver beads. But as protests erupted in the mess hall, workers grumbled. “Why can’t we have a singular base?” they muttered. “We’re chasing our own tail!”
And so, the confusion deepened. Senators from Zrak argued that marble symbolized stability. Councilors from Asher invoked ancient prophecies. Magistrates from Coveway were quick to show off the credits they were raking in from tourism to New Cygar Landing.
During a group session onboard the Vigiliance, open debate broke out amongst the representatives of the Confederate Systems.
“Where,” demanded Chancellor Zrak, “shall our true headquarters reside?”
Ore’Duke Kran Chan adjusted his chitinous robes. “Asher’s mystique draws the faithful.”
“Coveway is safe, out of the way, and making more credits then we could ask for!” Chief Magistrate Cal Armuntar offered, “Surely, this is the right location!”
General Secura leaned on her staff. “Have you seen the fleet in Tar Morden? Certainly this is the right location for the official headquarters of the Confederacy!”
Magistrate of the South, Siejo Kutol was quick to respond. “Let us,” he declared, “embrace our diversity. Our headquarters shall be wherever justice thrives, and freedom blooms. All of your territory is vital to us, but Tar Morden is the primary headquarters of the Separatist Movement, nestled near Castle Tar Morden.”
The room fell silent, and questioning looks fell on the face of some of those involved. After the meeting, one anonymous representative was happy to speak up on the matter.
“Records indicate that there is no government house, nor conference center in the Castle Tar Morden District! I Know! My ship is parked at the Starport in Gleán Caer!’ A second representative, who overheard, was quick to interject! “Lies! I have seen construction crews in that city! My office approved the designs for a Government House!”
Either way, the CIS continued its cosmic dance, its headquarters shifting like constellations. Zrak, Asher, Kalarba, Thesme, Hassaria, Coveway and others —each a spoke in the wheel of independence. For in the end, it was not the marble, the desert, or the starship that defined them. And so, the saga unfolded—a tale of confusion, protests, and the enduring spirit of independence.