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King Mwinuroja - We Didn't Do It


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((Capitol Palace, A’Kir Isle of Governance, Planet Kiros))


::We didn’t do it.::


::The words were on the lips of every A’Kir citizen as news of the terrible seismic tragedy on the Kirosian continent swept through A’Kir territory.::


::King Mwinuroja charged down the labyrinthine corridors of the Capitol Palace with furious determination, while his advisors flanked him, mouthing off with their various opinions and dissemblements. The King of the A’Kir, the most important elected official on this side of the planet, stood nearly seven and a half feet tall, his hide black, marked with a silver patch that covered half his bull-like face, dividing his countenance in a way that made his two profiles were quite distinct. His people had chosen for him a gold-colored tie with a conservative dark blue suit. This was no day for his dress to be showy. His horns were tall and sharp, an ivory-colored ornament to the fierce, unwavering look that started from his eyes, large and dark, and extended through the grim set of his mouth and the flaring of his nostrils.::


::Of course the Kirosians were going to blame the A’Kir for the shaking of the earth. The Kirosians blamed the A’Kir for everything.::


::The high, green walls of the Capitol Palace curved elegantly in rounded and sometimes suddenly angular directions that would have confounded anyone not familiar with their maze-like layout. Mwinuroja marched forward, confident as ever in his path. The building’s design was descended from an ancient construction tradition, created so outsiders would never find their way through, while insiders easily knew the way. It went back to ancient times, when labyrinths were built for protection against Kirosian invaders from across the wide oceans. Thousands of years ago, Kirosians came in sailing ships of wood and pitch that the modern mind almost couldn’t envision as functional. The archaeological record showed it, the appearance of ramheaded figures in ancient art, the evidence of inter-continental conflict and struggle in prehistory.::


::History showed it, too. The political and cultural barrier between A’Kir and Kirosian was long-standing and acrimonious. Attempts at peace had been made, but it is not easy thing to wash bad blood from the hands of history, and the two sides of the world never could find a way to meet in the middle. With advances in technology came advances in armaments and battle tactics. With advances in culture came advances in inter-cultural resentment and isolationism.::


::Mwinuroja had tried to work toward peace from within, but his people were so stubborn in their ways. He had worked hard for years to keep their internal struggles from spilling over and becoming acts of aggression against the Kirosians. He had sacrificed his time, his youth, his public reputation, to forge a better world, to fight the political fights that kept the A’Kir out of any direct conflict with their neighbor. He had shown the people a strong leader, a fierce king, and he had given his life over to holding the ties of their fragile political system in place, maintaining internal order and freedom from strife sometimes through nothing but sheer force of will.::


::And now did the very earth rebel?::


Mwinuroja: WHAT fresh hell comes now with the new hour?


::Rounding a corner that wouldn’t have been visible if you didn’t know it was there, King Mwinuroja strode into his situation room, a large chamber filled with terminals, assistants, and at one end, a private, hidden office that was his alone. The advisors charged in toward their various destinations, joining the fray of frantic comms, shouts and fevered whispers of collaboration between the staff housed there. One shout rang out from a young, dappled steer, updating the king.::


Assistant: Majesty, the communication from Starfleet is online.


Mwinuroja: Very well! I shall communicate from my office, and mark you that I am to receive no disturbance.


::At least the A’Kir weren’t afraid of making offworld contacts. The Council still denied them a voting seat, but it was willing to hear their problems. And it had sent this Starfleet to help.::


::Inside his private chamber, deep at the center of the labyrinth, Mwinuroja closed the door so he could be alone. He felt like stamping his feet in a charge. He was mad as could be, fit to gore. Taking a moment to collect himself, to try to reach his better nature of diplomacy, he moved to his large wooden desk, sat down behind it, and switched the comm on, prepared to say exactly what his constituents expected of him in this situation.::


::We didn’t do it.::


King Mwinuroja
Leader of the A’Kir


simmed by
LtCmdr Ren Rennyn
First Officer
USS Blackwell, Andaris Task Force


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