Obroa-skai, Obroa System
Okko had assumed that, with the conclusion of the vote to reform the League of Nations into a more coherent Commonality, he would be allowed to return home to his people. Never had he been more wrong. The vote in the Assembly Hall several days ago had been but the beginning.
A Galactic Congress had been called together, for while the Constitutional draft Columex and Ossus proposed held within it a strong foundation steeped in the tradition of the New Republic, nowhere was it more apparent that this was not the New Republic than on Obroa-skai.
The Obroans had been quite insistent that the congressional debates take place in the historic meeting center of the now defunct League of Nations. It was an odd sensation, the way something that seemed almost as simple as a mere change in moniker could refashion entire geo-political social structures.
Each world was vying for power, scrambling to make it to the ground floor so they could say that not only were they there, but they left an indelible mark upon the documentation that would shape the fate of the entire endeavor. Predictably, it meant a whole lot of talking and not much being said, in the end.
Fyodor Tsibul, however, proved to defy all expectations of him. Marvelling at the man’s eloquence and poise, Okko could not help but thank the Force that it was this man had come along when he had. A relatively obscure Columex political figure, he had been elected as Ambassador to the League if only to get rid of his radical notions and unshakeable ideals.
Truly, Tsibul was a man fashioned almost specifically for the times he lived in.
“Once again, I say to you all,” Fyodor said as soon as some semblance of order had been maintained, “Columex has no interests in meddling in the affairs of the Core. We have enough on our hands dealing with the Reaver blight that surrounds us!”
Days had gone by, and still they were stuck on the same topic of “Columex influence” on worlds across the galaxy. The Obroans, particularly, were a cautious bunch. The Commonality vote had somewhat blindsided them, and none were willing to give up the prestige and stature that came with serving as League capital.
“Exactly, Representative Tsibul!” it was the representative from Neimoidia, a key player in what had been the political structure of the League and perhaps their staunchest opponent in the ongoing debates, “Reavers, Reavers, Reavers. It is all we have heard about these past few days. Yet I can count on one hand the number of times you have mentioned the Cree’Ar. What of the Dominion?
Ossus is a known safe haven for Force users. It is only a matter of time before the Dominion takes their vengeance upon us for your religious indiscretions!”
To Okko’s surprise, he was singled out for the first time in the deliberations. Obviously the Neimoidian had been preparing to play that card for a while, the Ysanna could sense both from his aura and the smug expression upon his face as he waited for the Jedi to formulate some sort of awkward retort. They knew he was no politician.
“If the congress desires Ossus’ withdrawal from this new Commonality, it need only vote on the matter,” Okko replied serenely, determined not to let the whips and barbs of political infighting get to him, “The League of Nations championed the rights of Force users, but perhaps the representative from Neimoidia would like to propose a change in doctrine.”
Tsibul nodded in appreciation at the Jedi’s unexpected eloquence, and Okko took some satisfaction of the pricelessness of the expression on the Neimoidian representative’s face. The words had sent roars of debate and argument throughout the Assembly Hall, for sure enough there were those amongst them who did not consider Ossus’ secession a bad move.
The truly intelligent amongst them, however, knew better than to pursue the line of discourse. If the Commonality lost Ossus, it would likely lose Columex as well, and in so doing the entirety of the Outer Haven. There was also Chandrila to consider, a leader amongst the Core Worlds but still in many ways loyal to New Alderaan, to Jutraal, above all others.
“Consul Okko of Ossus is correct,” Fyodor spoke up as the conversations died down, “I know that many of you feel that you carry the weight of a burden that is not your own. I know you feel as if you are paying the price for one world’s apparent indiscretions.
But this League was founded on standing up in the face of overwhelming adversity. You have stared the Empire in the face, and you didn’t blink. Many of you are contributing to our effort against the Reavers, and you didn’t blink. Surely, you can find it within yourselves to do the same with these Cree’Ar.
I say to you, just as the League before it, the Commonality will not be brought to its knees at the whim of would-be tyrants. I say to you, the Commonality will-”
They heard the shot before it hit.
Sensing the danger before it even happened, Okko was in mid-tackle when he felt a burning sensation throughout his ribs. I’m hit, he thought. He waited for either agony or shock to kick in, but all he felt was the slightly painful thud as they hit the duracrete floor.
“I say...I say…”
The Jedi’s quick actions had spared Tsibul an instant death, but the burning Okko had felt was merely close proximity to a blaster bolt as it impacted. It must have snaked its way underneath his arms, for Fyodor’s left shoulder was nearly decimated, the wounding shot no doubt meant for his heart quickly cauterizing, and the Columex ambassador groaned.
Calling upon the Force, Okko summoned all the strength he could to heal the wound, but he was a Ysanna warrior, not a healer. Glancing up into the rafters high above the chaotically fleeing delegates, he saw a shadow of movement as who Okko could only assume was the shooter made a quick flight.
Returning his attention to Fyodor, he clutched the man tight, and poured his life force into the other man. They couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not when they were so close.
“...we will...stand firm...”
Fyodor Tsibul, their brightest hope, was dying in Okko’s arms.
And there was nothing he could do.