Na’al waited for the tumult to settle before diplomatically intervening: “Many of your arguments are centered on the idea that an official release of Hextrophon’s treatise will bring scorn upon the Council,” he argued. “I understand your concerns, but I’d argue that they’re unwarranted.”

“This is not a mere disagreement,” Tem Eliss censured with an upraised tentacle, “as our larger-than-usual attendance demonstrates.” Even above Na’al and Hoole, Eliss was the most respected member on the Council and the oldest being in the room. The Iyra sentientologist had earned great respect over the years. His work on the prodigious University of Sanbra Guide to Intelligent Life was unmatched, as was his steadfast integrity. “While we can all agree that the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances is not the Empire, neither is it the New Republic. We are not quite as cherished by this administration as we were under Mon Mothma or Leia Organa Solo, as she herself can testify. These are leaner times. After the devastation left from crisis after crisis, the Galactic Federation is desperate for the credits and resources it needs to build a stronger arsenal and military in the event of another mad race of extra-galactic invaders, civil war, or act of aggression by someone possessing a hidden superweapon. The reality is that the Federation is cutting funding and programs wherever it can. I cannot imagine that we are low on that list.”

Eliss’ speech cut to the heart of the matter. Anything that might cause the Council to be seen as irrelevant was a threat. These were not only lean times; they were precarious ones. The new government had been forged in the fires of war, caught up in the throes of a populace that demanded peace and put their faith in the military to ensure that. Most citizens were far more concerned with the future than the past, which they wanted to forget. No one was quite sure in what direction Chief of State Cal Omas would lead the Galactic Federation, and some feared the worst. There were rumblings of factions within the government demanding the state wield greater sovereignty and put an end to unaligned and independent states that they deemed potential threats to unity and peace.

Though these were just anxious and unsubstantiated rumors, some knew that a body that felt entitled to greater powers would seek to do so while concealing the less publicfriendly aspects of the truth, and that meant that the designated “keepers of the truth” would be regarded as a security risk, one to be marginalized… or eliminated altogether.

“The new Chief of State will likely prove to be a good man,” continued Eliss, “as his record and accolades suggest…” What he didn’t say was that he might also turn out to be a very bad man. “Most of you are old enough to remember how journalists and historians were treated under Palpatine and his proponents of propaganda—and our?years of struggle, always a hair’s breadth away from being imprisoned or killed. It may have kept the profession honest, Hoole, but few would care to return to it.”

“Yet, we faced it, Senior Professor Eliss,” Leia Organa Solo stood up and declared.

Leia’s striking pale-green, silk-satin dress, styled in a fashionable reverse-S curve silhouette, bore a subtle juxtaposition of ivy on soft white. As with her beauty and candor, Leia had grown only more courageous, wise, and elegant with age. “The Council’s concerns are warranted, but I would caution against allowing fear to dictate any decision you make. This august body still has friends in high places, and not everyone wishes to see the truth sold to the highest bidder. But I, for one, would like to hear the manuscript in question. From what I understand, only a handful have. Surely, we can spend some time allowing it to be read aloud before you pass judgement on it?”

Janzikek smirked in his seat. Baobab grew noticeably discomfited. Hoole smiled and grasped his wife’s hand. It was a bold move on the Princess’ part, though Na’al knew it was coming. It was a calculated risk. This was Leia Organa Solo, larger-than-life, a heroine, luminary, and the most beloved woman in the galaxy. She could provide corroborative testimony to some of the more fantastical aspects of Hextrophon’s account, her support alone would sway many. On the other hand, there were entire sections of the manuscript that would reinforce the opinions of the conservative factions and cause those in the middle to agree that it should be relegated to the SD files.

Na’al had pre-appointed Hari Seldona the honor of reading aloud the early sections of the controversial document, but he made a pretense of picking her seemingly at random. She played her part well enough, feigning surprise and humility. She was a smart choice that would lend an air of gravitas and dignity to Hextrophon’s words. That it might also prevent the rabble from interrupting too much was an added benefit.

Hari Seldona was a famed Alderaanian poet who’d started her career in the band Red Line with her boyfriend Soltan Wostikian. Soltan was targeted by the Empire for spreading sedition and executed. Then came the devastating loss of her family on Alderaan. Devastated, but refusing to yield to tyranny, Hari returned to touring the galaxy, this time with greater circumspection, using her verses in protest against Palpatine’s New Order. It was a hard road, and one that nearly cost her life on more than a few occasions. She’d met Hextrophon a few times during that period, and there had been mutual admiration between them. Reading his work, what constituted his final words, was something she regarded as a privilege. Of course, even the poetess’ formidable skills wouldn’t sway the stauncher members, but a majority vote was all that was needed.

MANUSCRIPT READING I

“In the years since my retirement as Master Historian, I’ve been free to pursue enquiries apart from the mandates of government-funded projects. Mon Mothma had seen fit to ensure I had a sufficient stipend to allow me to chase after the more unusual subjects that held my interest: ancient Pre-Republic races, lost civilizations, and the unknown origins of sapient life in the universe.

In this particular mission, I must admit to some misgivings and more than a little trepidation on the part of those closest to me, for I’ve begun to unearth a picture of a far-distant time—a “tapestry of myth,” some would call it—but a cosmogony, nonetheless, based on interconnected accounts, cultic lore, and a number of hitherto unexplored, ancient civilizations. Research such as this encroaches on areas of the metaphysical that some consider outside the parameters of the scientist or historian, yet to such sentiments I can only say that just as it is the journalist’s duty to uncover present truths, no matter how odd or disagreeable they may be, so too is the historian’s duty to uncover the truths of the past, wherever that path may lead.

That is not to suggest that there is not a cost involved. By infringing on the domain of those who’ve held long-guarded secrets, in probing the immemorial veil of the ages into mysteries unnameable, I have brought upon myself the attention of malefic eyes. Yet, so it must be, for that is the commission: to record and publish the data, to draw together the strands that form the web of truth in this universe, to open a window into the vast gulf of epochs past. I leave it to my readers to look beyond the present, mundane notions of reality and see what the evidence reveals.

Religious extremism has always…”

“If I might make a request,” Tem Eliss interrupted gently. “Most of us have conceded to the earlier Cult Encounters portion of the document, which was read yesterday; perhaps we can limit ourselves to the later portions, starting with the introduction to the much larger Supernatural Encounters portion of the history he uncovered.”

“You’d best say, ‘believed he uncovered,’” retorted Janzikek. “It’ll take more than The Uncanny Adventures of Arhul Hextrophon to convince me the old man wasn’t entirely unhinged!” He knew this bit of irreverence would start another debate.

And it did.

Baobab shot up in Hextrophon’s defense, followed by famed xenoarchaeologist Corellia Antilles and the iconoclastic Doctor Fem Nu-Ar, who was heard calling Janzikek a “pompous dinosaur!” Hanapen spat and gurgled unintelligibly while Hausen Graf-Well lambasted the “entire assembly of lunatics” and his sycophants nodded and murmured in agreement. The Gektl archaeologist, Dr. Xathan, attempted to calm everyone down as did his Agamarian associates, Doctors Anki Pace and Garv Debble, but the shouting only increased when several young and prominent members of the Obroan Institute began calling the supporting side “Hextremists” and “Hexorcists,” causing forensic expert Myk Bidlor to laugh heartily, which served only to further the impression many had of him as a fortune-hunter and cad.

As the proceedings spiralled out of control, Na’al stood up and tapped the shoulder of a pointy-domed astromech beside him. Master Mnemon was the nickname of a forestgreen and white striped Q9-X7 droid who served as the ambulatory counterpart to the supercomputer, Mistress Mnemos. He’d spent a good deal of time on various errands for her, travelling from Fusai to Coruscant, where the Council had its main facilities. Despite what some would deem an unhealthy obsession with upgrades, Mnemon proved handy in countless ways that Na’al had come to discover.