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Rewarding Allies; To the Victor Go the Spoils
Topic Started: Dec 21 2015, 08:20 AM (37 Views)
Mastropa
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Zinovios Mesolongias, Epistatis

Susquen Bay was never completely quiet. With Genoa situated at the mouth of the Chesa River at its northeastern point, and the antiquated military bases of Harris and Hudson standing guard on either side of its entry into the Reval Ocean, activity continued on at least some of its beaches day and night. Commercial shipping constantly trudged up and down the bay’s several branches, to and from Genoa mainly, but there were plenty of industrial complexes to be found throughout the area that had long since become Genoa’s suburbs, surrounding the bay on all sides. This region, home to a city that had stood as capital for a colony, an empire, and a union, was among the most densely populated places in the world. Even so, there remained some corners of Susquen Bay, still hidden in the dark, where the cacophony of civilization rarely pierced the veil of the quiet night.

This, however, was one of those rare times. Sheltered by the curve of an uninhabited beach on the southern shore of Susquen Bay, a large private yacht lay at anchor, away from most prying eyes except those who had been informed of its presence. It was not entirely undetectable—quite the opposite, given the bright lights and loud laughter and chatter spilling out from its decks—but considering the patrolling speedboats with Secret Service seals painted on the sides, no one was going to approach to ask questions. The yacht’s owner was more than happy for that.

The man in question, Senator Dorian Levine of Iesol, had been happy enough to volunteer when he had heard that the new president of Gilead was looking for a host for a party he intended to throw for his supporters in Congress, in the cabinet, and at the head of the states. Levine had seen an obvious opportunity to show off to his fellow members of Congress, and to ingratiate Addison Banks as quickly as possible. More to the point, the yacht Mystic was Levine’s pride and joy, purchased almost as soon as the senator had arrived in Genoa and seen the ocean for the first time. For a man whose home state was mostly desert, Susquen Bay was its own little paradise, and Mystic had been equipped as a home away from home so that Levine could enjoy the bay for as long as he wanted.

Eager to impress, Levine had been thrilled when Banks had happily agreed to host his upcoming celebration on Mystic. With the president’s financial help, the senator had renovated his yacht in order to accommodate a medium-sized crowd and happily taken part in Banks’s preparations for the party—at which point Banks revealed to him just what, and whom, the celebrations would include. Of course, that was only after the items and people that made Levine balk had already been brought on board, and after a few drinks too many for the senator’s reasonable tolerance. Soon enough, Levine was happily sampling everything Banks had had to offer. The next morning, Banks had been good enough to see Levine through the sober shock of his actions via a personal visit, reminding him that he was merely partaking in the fruits of success and loyalty. Considering the number of other successful politicians who had or soon would have the same enjoyable experiences, there was no reason for Levine to punish himself through abstinence, was there?

The senator learned the lesson Banks intended: Loyalty brought rewards. The fact that Banks had chosen blatantly illegal and immoral rewards was its own lesson, of course, not only that no one else could or would deliver these gifts, but that the one who gave them out could easily destroy the reputation of those who received them. Levine learned that lesson, too. Soon, so would the majority of Congress.

Levine, sipping something fruity that was no good at all in masking the taste of whatever illicit cocktail Banks had slipped into the punch bowl, glanced back at his new patron as the president looked out over the deck. He was not taking part in the debauchery, of course; it would not do to be photographed by his own cameras, which were happily snapping away candid shots of everyone else as they consumed the finest drugs and mingled with the underage ‘waitresses’ picked up from any number of seedy locations in the still-struggling Kanatan north. To Levine’s irritation, only a few seemed nervous about what they were doing. The rest of the politicians on his yacht, who should have suspected at least something wrong at this point, maintained a party atmosphere without any second thought. It was a revelation that most of his colleagues were so used to illicit partying that no one had raised an eyebrow when it became clear just what they were taking part in. It didn’t speak well of Gileadan politics in general, but Levine couldn’t help but think that it also didn’t speak well of himself for somehow missing out on all of these opportunities.

The important thing, he decided as he looked back toward the party—or the orgy—happening below him, was that he knew better than to miss out on those opportunities now.
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MAKARIA to the Achaian People:
Be as Many as the Stars
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