The capital of Ryloth could not be more different from Alderaan if it had tried. Kala’unn city was far from natural beauty. Its towering structure was multi-levelled within the mountains, and had often been almost slum-like, reminiscent of a hive city, though smaller. These days much expansion and improvement was underway, but all work had been stopped recently as civilian workers, both native people, ‘droids and C’tani, notably dwarven and necrontyr engineers; in time, the entire planet’s narrow twilight band would host cities of the unique combination of aestetics there, although the natives had long lived underground, simply because of the storms and wildlife, they had never had the riches of these cultures nor the aeons to perfect their arts. Already parts of Ryloth bloomed with plants and the distinctive squared off and decorated columns that paraded through the underground architecture of the Great Civilization; tunnels that had been little more than boreholes were widened into triple columned avenues in places.
Piece by piece, brick by brick, Ryloth was acquiring beauty. When completed, it would be akin to the fabled city of Menegroth, but grander by far.
But now the entire construction capacity on the planet had been requisitioned for the war effort, and the hundreds of building sites in the city sat idle. Tali, Ebra’una’s Sister had found that more than a little annoying trying to put up with a week of an abandoned building site down the hall, but she’d said nothing. Others had complained, but she had to hold herself to a higher standard now. One of the students from the night-class, an older man, had not come, apparently he was a technician in one of the planetary shield generators, so naturally had been putting in extra time. He’d miss the ceremony, but you didn’t strictly need the ceremony; signed affirmation was also possible.
She stood in a semi-circle with a score of others, conscious of the considerable audience. The group’s teacher stepped forward toward the notary, who nodded to him in acknowledgement, “Edral’tar, can you attest that these persons are known to you and are in character fit and proper persons to be admitted to the citizenship of the Great Civilization, understanding the grave duties and responsibilities that this entails,” in actual fact he was obligated to say so, the fact of passing the required civics examinations, based on months of night classes that had covered everything from the poetry of Ultha the Lyric, to the History of the War in Heaven, the government and its procedures and elections or details of allied cultures from places so far away that their worlds had been primordial when the light that shone from them in the heavens had reached Ryloth, qualified the candidates, not his attestation.
“I can, I do,” he said.
The Notary, a silver-clad necrontyr man with genewrought antlers that rose as a tapering ivory crown of sharp spikes that swept up above his head nodded once more and raised his staff, calling each forward in turn.
Tali stepped forward, resting one hand on the hilt of the twi’leki sword, she’d never have been able to afford one before; these days a lot of things had come down in price. Her garb was much the same as Ethril’s, a blend of C’tani and Twi’leki costume. She laid the other on the shaft of the Rod of Covenant, held horizontally before the notary. This one was not the same as those used by Triarch Praetorians, those teachers of Order who went often into new C’tani territories, and were thus comparatively in this Galaxy, groups often seen acting as bodyguards to major leaders in this crisis, this one was merely made of ebony and jade, rather than being a weapon of living metal that could melt a terminator suit to slag in a single shot and cremate the wearer.
She held up her hand and read the oath; this particular rod, like many others, was inscribed, though in Ryl pictographs, a prompt should she get lost at any part of the oath. She raised her eyes to the audience in the theatre that had been rented for the citizenship ceremonies; a small one, comparatively, mostly the extended families of the new C’tani. She was determined to show that she was reciting from memory.
“I hereby swear to hold secondary all allegiance and fidelity to any noble or nation, to reject any such allegiance where it conflicts with that of the Great Civilization, and that I will support and defend the laws of the Great Civilization against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same.” there was another version that was more stringent, but this was the common one.
“I swear that such children or dependants as are in my care shall be protected and raised to their full potential, and educated to the best of my ability to prepare them for this responsibility, and I swear to uphold the memory of those who have come before me as members of the Great Civilization.
“I swear to pursue civic virtues in public life and to commit myself to the welfare of my society, its citizens and people. I swear to preserve the Secrets of the Great Civilization, its technologies, deeds and lore, from all outsiders as specified in law and to add all pertinent lore and knowledge which I encounter to the same, for the preservation and advancement of knowledge and the sciences.
“I swear to abjure Chaos and all its works, to have no truck with it or its followers or creed.
“I swear to discharge with all responsibly each authority and trust placed in me in public life, and to maintain financial probity and legitimate commerce.
“I swear that I will bear arms on behalf of the Great Civilization when required by lawful authority.
“All this I swear, and I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; Goddess Witness my Oath,” the last version was local; some people used ‘affirm’ rather than swear, for similar reasons, but Tali’una was, compared to many applicants, strongly religious.
“Then be so recognized,” he said, “Tali’una, Citizen of the Great Civilization, and take up your duties.”
“Thank you,” she said, reaching up to shake his hand over it, as he held the staff to one side once more.
Hours later, in a restaurant deeper in the poorer part of town, though easily rented and with an excellent cook, she sat with her brother and parents, cousins and aunts, uncles and friends, around a table dotted here and there with the hump-backed carapaced forms of baked mailocs; each mailoc, sometimes incorrectly called mynocks, was almost the size of man, and when properly cooked, tasted of succulent spices it was treated with, carving knives stood in rows.
“What I don’t get , is why does everything around here have to stop because some assholes blow up Coruscant?” her aunt Xiann was complaining. She’d been particularly inconvenienced by the Compact Defence Force insisting on designating her usual route to work a minefield.
“Because it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Ebra’una said, attempting to calm her.
“I get the platitudes, but let’s be honest, if an invader comes here, we know what to do, just like every other invader down the centuries; bend with the wind and prevail; make a deal and prosper. They all want the same thing.”
Tali looked at Xiann, frowning deeply. It was not polite to contradict one’s elders in Twi’lek society. Anything but. Obedience to the clan and the family was paramount. On the other hand, it was not proper for a C’tani to say nothing when talk of slavery was had. She looked at the ring of silver etched with necrontyr sine script on her finger, and then at her aunt.
“They will get nothing here, except eight feet of ground,” she said, sitting up straight. “Normally I would offer human slavers six feet each, but I hear these ‘space marines’ are very tall, so they may have eight feet of Rylothian soil. Let no one say we are not generous hosts.”
Xiann looked at her, her mouth working for a moment, before mentally associating her niece with the C’tani, the mental realignment was almost funny to watch. “Of course,” she said, going right back to her food. The thing with defeatism, Xiann recalled the philosopher Thanria had written, was that the counsel of cowardice rotted one’s mind.
