#Dispatches from the District Committee

[biblioklept]

Blog about some recent reading

What an interesting few weeks it’s been! Here’s (some of) what I’ve been reading so far this year: I’m in the middle of Stephen Dixon’s novel Interstate. It is a devastating, ugly, addictive, beautiful novel; I have no idea if it is “good” or not but I love it. I can’t really think of a single person I know (in real life) I could recommend it to. We played cards with some friends and one of them…

[dertaglichedan]

A Congresswoman with Dementia Stopped Coming to Work. The DC Press Corps Never Noticed.

In 2023, a small website called The Dallas Express picked up a startling allegation: Texas Rep. Kay Granger, one of the most powerful GOP members of Congress, was struggling with dementia.

The publication “actually got a tip from a senior staffer in her office that she was having issues,” said Chris Putnam, the Express’ CEO. “They got the date and location for her visiting the Brain Institute and had a reporter there and got eyes on her. They didn’t get a photograph of her.”

There wasn’t enough to go on. But the next year, the idea was still around, even though Granger had stepped down from chairing the Appropriations Committee and wasn’t running again. When the publication was unable to reach the Fort Worth Republican for a story, Putnam said, “I checked roll call, and I saw that she hadn’t cast a vote since early July.”

What followed, according to Putnam, was basic journalistic shoe-leather. He dispatched a reporter to Granger’s district office and found the place all but abandoned — something confirmed by a call to the property manager. “I started making some calls personally to some of the folks that I know in the area,” he said. “And sure enough, we were tipped off about where she was.”

The tip: For months, she’d been living in an assisted-living facility in Texas that also includes memory care. A reporter was sent to the facility. “We fully expected them to just basically escort him out,” Putnam said. “But no, they sent a representative out and they acknowledged it.”

The story broke in December, shortly before Granger’s long-planned retirement, and was confirmed several days later by Granger’s son, who acknowledged “dementia issues” in a Dallas Morning News interview. As the news ricocheted around the political world, a Texas website with an editorial staff of 10 was credited with a massive scoop — while the Capitol Hill press corps was pilloried for supposedly taking its eye off the ball.

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Eleven: Normalcy

Chapter WC: 11,172

Chapter Tags/Warnings: none

A/N: This chapter is 95% dialogue, and yes I could’ve cut it but…I didn’t want to.

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After a fitful sleep, one fraught with nightmares, you wake early the next morning. 

You’ve taken to writing down your dreams when you wake, no longer confident that the nightmares are truly that and not something more prophetic. After Felucia, you know better. 

You don't write down much, just the barest of details, and a vague recollection, but it's enough. And, when you read them back, a pattern emerges. Ever since you awoke in the medbay, you've been dreaming about golden fields, dust and smoke, and a searing pain in your chest so intense, you wake up gasping. 

There's no one else, just the grass, and the dirt, and the wind, and, above it all, the feeling of something horrible about to happen. It's the same every time. Over and over again in a loop, and you're growing tired of it. And despite your efforts, you're no closer to understanding it.

You haven't told anyone, and you're not sure what to do with the information. So, for now, you've decided to keep the details to yourself, at least until you figure out what they mean.

You set the dream journal aside, and you dress quickly, slipping into a fresh pair of robes and leaving your quarters to resume your duties at long last.

Overnight, there was a fire in the Undercity, and the Council dispatched you to investigate the issue. It's far from the first time such an event has occurred, and after a quick debriefing, you head out. The fire had originated in the abandoned warehouse district and had spread to several nearby structures, making cleanup tricky. You spend the better part of the day assisting in the recovery effort and meeting with the survivors, taking note of their injuries and asking questions where you can.

The next few days pass in a blur of activity, and, before long, you've forgotten about your conversation with Obi-Wan and your evening out together. He doesn't bring it up, and neither do you, and the two of you continue on, acting like nothing ever happened. 

It's not exactly a healthy choice, but some things are better left unsaid. It's not like either of you have had the time to talk about it, either. There's always something going on, and the War keeps everyone busy. It's easier, and safer, and the Council doesn't need any more reasons to scrutinize the two of you. Well, mostly you, but you were doing your best to make sure you were on their good side.

By the end of the week, you and the Coruscant Guard are able to catch the arsonist. A local crime boss, known for his use of black market chemicals, had set the blaze in an attempt to cover up the evidence of his operation. You bring him and his crew to justice, and after a long debriefing with a Senate committee, another subcommittee, and then the Council, you're finally dismissed.

With the issue resolved and your report completed, you find yourself with some unexpected downtime. And for the first time in a long time, you're able to enjoy a bit of a break. 

It's still early when you decide to go for a run, and you're out of the Temple and onto the streets in no time. The weather is mild, and the sun is shining, and despite the constant buzz of the traffic, it's pleasant. You've missed running, the only thing that seems to actually clear your head these days, and it's not long before you're lost in thought, the city fading into the background.

It's been weeks since the incident on Felucia. And since then, you've barely had a chance to process what happened. In fact, aside from the nightmares, the only time you've really been able to stop and think was the night you and Obi-Wan snuck off to the cantina. 

Now, as you jog through the city, the air crisp and cool, and the noise of the world dulled, the memories come rushing back. The conversation with Rex in the woods, the pain of the explosion, and the way the Force had screamed at you. You'd been trying to forget, but, somehow, the memories are clearer than ever. As though the alcohol had stripped away the fog, and now, all you're left with are the images.

The war has intensified in recent months. More troops, more missions, and the losses have only increased. Every day, there's a new report of another battle gone wrong, another platoon lost, another planet captured. 

It's getting harder and harder to keep up, and you can only hope that when you return to the frontlines, you're ready. You can’t afford to let yourself panic as you did on Felucia, and the consequences of your failure would be even worse.

The thought makes you grimace, and you force yourself to run faster, pushing the memories away. There's no use dwelling on what's already happened, and you need to focus on the present. And on what’s yet to come.

Your run takes you through the Upper Levels of the city, and as the day progresses, the crowds thicken. Soon, the streets are full of people, and you're weaving between them, ducking and dodging, apologizing under your breath. 

You’re not sure where you’re going, but you keep moving, not paying attention to your surroundings. Until, eventually, you stop in front of the clone barracks.

You look around, and when you realize where you are, a frown tugs at your lips. The building looms in front of you, and you stare up at it, more than a little stunned. You hadn't intended to come here. Or maybe you had. You're not really sure.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you watch at the entrance for a few moments before shaking your head. There's no reason for you to go inside, and there's certainly no point in bothering him. He's busy. So are you. The two of you don't need to worry about the other. And you certainly don't need to complicate things.

"General?"

You jump and turn. Rex is standing a few feet behind you, his helmet tucked under his arm. He looks exactly as he did the last time you'd seen him, only this time, his eyes are wide, and his cheeks are flushed.

"Captain," you say, smiling. You wave and nod toward the barracks, trying to keep your voice casual. "I didn't expect to see you here. Are you on leave? I thought the 501st was still stationed on Devaron."

Rex doesn't respond, his gaze drifting down momentarily before he quickly refocuses on your face. He looks a bit startled, and more than a little flustered. 

It's only then that you realize you're still wearing your workout clothes, a sleeveless shirt and shorts that reveal quite a bit of your body, your windbreaker tied around your waist. You're not really one for modesty, but Rex has never seen you like this. In fact, none of the clones have. And it's obvious that he's struggling to keep his eyes on your face. 

Your cheeks heat slightly, and you cross your arms, arching an eyebrow. 

"Rex?"

"Yes?" he mumbles. His widen before they snap back to yours, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry. General. It's...you...look good—healthy. Healthy. It’s good to see you looking healthy."

"Well, thank you," you say, your amusement growing. He looks so embarrassed, and yet, he hasn't stopped staring at you, and it's making it hard not to laugh. You shift your weight and tilt your head. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes, sir," he stammers. He blinks a few times and clears his throat. "I'm fine. Just wasn't expecting to run into you. Here. At the barracks."

"Right," you chuckle. You take a deep breath and shake your head. "I was just taking a run. Got a bit lost. Guess I was distracted."

"I see."

"Mhm." 

The two of you stand there for a few moments. You're not quite sure what to say. Rex is cute when he’s flustered, but the tension is awkward, and you can tell he's not comfortable. So, after a few seconds, you force a smile.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your morning. I'm sure you have a lot to do,” you say, giving him a friendly nod. You glance over at the barracks and then back at him. "I should get going."

"No, no, you’re not interrupting," he assures you quickly, and he shrugs, his eyes meeting yours. “I was actually on my way out."

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah," he replies, and he gestures to the door. "We got in last night. Just finished debriefing. They're giving us a few days of downtime. Figured I'd take a walk, see the city."

"Ah.”

You look down and fiddle with your jacket, biting the inside of your cheek. This is exactly why you shouldn't have come. Things are too complicated, and you're making it difficult. 

You let out a quiet sigh and look up. He's still staring at you, and he seems genuinely happy to see you, his eyes bright. He's always been so kind, and attentive, and respectful. And he's never once asked anything of you. He's just...Rex. Rex, who treats you like a person, and not just a Jedi.

And, selfishly, you like that. You like having someone who doesn't see you as an asset, or a tool, or a weapon. Someone who isn't afraid to challenge you, and who makes you laugh. Who gives you his full attention and doesn't look at you like a disappointment or a disaster waiting to happen.

While it might be the height of foolishness, and you know that nothing can come of it, it doesn't mean you have to cut yourself off from him completely.

“Would you...like some company?" you ask slowly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "On your walk."

Rex blinks, his eyes widening, and a hint of red creeps up his cheeks. He looks so surprised, and a little pleased, and a warm feeling blooms in your chest.

"I'd be happy to show you around," you continue. "If you'd like. I know the city pretty well."

He opens his mouth and then closes it. He looks a bit like a fish, and, again, it's cute. Really cute. You find yourself smiling wider, and you wait patiently, the awkwardness dissipating and your confidence returning. 

When he doesn't say anything, you roll your eyes. 

"Unless you don't want to hang out with me, and then I'll leave you alone. You know, I can take a hint. I won't be offended."

Rex chuckles and shakes his head. "No, I...would love some company. But you must have better things to do."

"I'm off duty.” You shrug. "And I've been meaning to get back to the city. Besides, you could use a guide. The last thing you need is to get lost in Coruscant. Not a great look for a representative of the Republic."

"Right," he says, laughing. He takes a step toward you, and he smiles, his eyes warm. "In that case, lead the way."

You grin and turn, heading down the walkway. Rex falls in step beside you, and you set off down the street, a comfortable silence settling over the two of you. You lead him down several winding pathways, weaving through the crowds, the buildings towering over you. The sun is high overhead, and the air is warm, and the city is filled with noise, the hum of the traffic, the sounds of the people, the buzz of the air.

You point out various sites and monuments, telling him a little about each, and Rex listens intently, his eyes moving from one structure to the next. He doesn't ask any questions or press for details, and he seems content to let you ramble, his gaze focused on the city.

You continue like that for a while, chatting and strolling through the streets. The city is beautiful, and it's nice to have a bit of a break. A chance to do something, anything, normal.

As you walk, you sneak glances at him, watching him out of the corner of your eye. He looks a bit more relaxed, his shoulders less tense, but you’re starting to notice he’s making a concerted effort not to look directly at you. 

You wonder if he thinks you haven't noticed, but it's impossible to miss. Anytime he catches your gaze, Rex looks away, his cheeks turning pink. It's not a bad look on him, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't find his efforts to cling to professionalism as frustrating as they are amusing.

You decide to take pity on him and put on your windbreaker, zipping it up to cover your exposed skin. As soon as the fabric is covering your chest, his shoulders drop, and his eyes flick back to yours. He smiles, and you smirk back before turning to point out a statue. The conversation resumes, and his gaze never leaves your face.

You spend the next hour wandering the streets and taking in the sights. It's been a long time since you've gotten to enjoy a day without the weight of responsibility and duty, and even longer since you've been able to show someone around. You almost forgot how much you love this city. Or how much you used to.

At one point, Rex stops and tilts his head, looking up at the tall spires of the skyscrapers, the sun shining down on him. He looks so relaxed, so peaceful, and it makes your heart ache. He doesn't get a chance to do this. None of them do. They're constantly fighting, constantly at war, and, if it weren't for the fact that he was wearing his armor, he would look like anyone else out for a stroll.

He deserves this. To feel normal. To live a life that isn't dictated by the needs and wants of others. To know freedom, and happiness, and joy, and love. And you don't know if he ever truly will. You hope he will. But the chances are slim, and it's hard not to feel a little guilty.

"Something wrong?"

You blink, realizing you've been staring at him, and you smile. "No, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." You look around, taking in the scenery, and you try to distract yourself. "It's just...been a while since I've been able to do this. I forgot how much I loved this city."

"I can see why," he says. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," you agree. "It is."

You watch him as he takes in the cityscape. He looks so at peace, and so carefree, and the sadness that had overtaken you disappears, replaced by a different kind of ache. An ache that you're all too familiar with. One that you've felt more than once since you were brought back together.

You push it aside and clear your throat. 

"So...where to next? Got any place in particular you'd like to see?"

"No," he replies. Rex turns his attention back to you and grins. "Just thought I'd follow your lead."

"Are you sure?" you tease as you nudge him with your elbow. "You don't have a hidden desire to visit the Museum of Fine Arts? Or the Opera House? You haven’t lived until you’ve seen an all-Bith performance of the Cantina Cantata. It's a Coruscanti classic."

"Ha, ha," he says dryly. "Very funny."

"What?" you ask. You bat your lashes in a show of innocence, and he scoffs. "It's a legitimate question."

"No, thank you,” he says, rolling his eyes, and he gives you a look. "I'll pass. Unless, of course, you want to."

"Force, no," you groan, and Rex lets out a laugh that has your heart fluttering. You smirk and start walking again, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. "There is one place I'd like to go, if that's alright with you. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," he admits with a sheepish smile. "We've been eating rations for two weeks straight. Haven't had real food in ages."

"Perfect."

You're getting close to the industrial district, and you take a left down an alley. It's a narrow path between two towering buildings, and the air is hazy, and there's a smell of smoke and fuel. The street is mostly deserted, and you're careful not to trip over any loose stones or stray bits of scrap. 

It's not the best area of the city, but, if there's one thing you've learned, it's that the best places are often in the worst neighborhoods. And this one was the best.

"You sure this place serves clones?" Rex asks warily as he follows you. He's looking around the alley, his hand resting on his blaster. "Seems a little rough."

"Trust me," you tell him. "This place is great."

The alley ends abruptly and you're greeted by the familiar sight of the small diner. It's an older building, and it's been there for a long time, a relic of the old days. The rounded durasteel walls glint in the afternoon sun, the neon sign blinking in the window, and the door is open, the sound of conversation spilling into the street. A few patrons are standing outside chatting, their eyes watching the two of you, but no one says a word as you enter.

"Hi honey," a cheerful voice calls. A waitress droid wheels over, her round eyes shining. "Welcome. Welcome. What can I get for you today?"

"Table for two, please," you say. “Thanks, FLO.”

"Right this way," she chirps, and she spins around, heading toward the back of the diner. 

You nudge Rex, who's looking around the room nervously, and you nod your head toward FLO's retreating form. "Come on. She won't bite."

"I've never been to a place like this," he mutters as he follows you, staying close. "It's so...normal."

"That's kind of the point," you laugh. You glance over your shoulder and give him a reassuring smile. "Everyone deserves a little normal."

"Fair enough." He takes a deep breath and gives you a half-smile. "Thanks for doing this."

"Of course," you say.

You follow FLO to a booth at the back, and you're about to slide into the seat across from him when a large shadow falls over the table. Rex tenses immediately, his hand moving to his weapon, and you whirl around, expecting the worst. But, instead, you're greeted with the wide grin of an old friend.

"Hi Dex," you say warmly. "Long time no see."

You wince as you're immediately wrapped up in a hug, four arms squeezing you tightly and lifting your feet clean off the ground.

"Hey kid!" he booms. "How the hell are ya?"

"Good," you squeak. "And yourself?"

"I can't complain," Dex says. He releases you and sets you back on the floor, his hand on your shoulder to keep you from toppling over. "Can't complain at all. How've you been? Haven't seen you in forever."

"Busy," you reply with a shrug. "You know how it is."

"Always working," he sighs. He looks around, his eyes landing on Rex for a moment before focusing back on you, a frown bisecting his face. "Where's Obi-Wan? Not used to seeing one without the other."

"Offworld," you explain. "The war’s keeping him busy."

"Ah," Dex says. "And this is...?"

He nods toward Rex, his eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a hard line. Dex isn't an aggressive man, but he's no pushover either, and he doesn't suffer fools. You have no doubt that, should the need arise, he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And you're equally certain that he won't hesitate to put a few bolts in anyone who threatens his customers.

"This is Rex, captain of the 501st Legion," you tell him. "My friend."

"Your friend," Dex echoes. He stares at Rex for a long moment, his gaze scrutinizing, before he grins and offers one of his hands. "Dexter Jettster. Welcome to Dex's Diner."

Rex hesitates before he takes the offered hand and shakes it. "Thanks. It's a nice place."

"It's a dump," Dex laughs. "But it's mine. And it's been a good place for years."

"Well, it's a great dump," Rex replies. He looks around and grins. "Very welcoming."

"Glad to hear it," Dex chuckles, and he glances down at you and gives your shoulder a squeeze. "Don't be a stranger. You’re always welcome. You tell Obi-Wan, too.”

"Thanks, I will." You smile and watch him go before turning back to Rex. "You good?"

"Yeah," he says. He lets out a deep breath and gives you a wry grin. "For a second there I thought he was going to throw me out."

"Nah," you tell him. You slide into the booth, and Rex does the same across from you. "He has a very strict 'no questions asked' policy. As long as you're a paying customer, he won't bother you. Unless, of course, you're bothering someone else. Then he'll break your legs."

Rex snorts. "Noted."

FLO comes back with two menus, and you both order your caf, the droid zipping away on a squeaky wheel.

"You two are close," Rex says, his eyes scanning his menu.

"Dex? Yeah," you agree as you do the same. "He's a good friend to have."

"I meant you and General Kenobi."

"Oh." You're taken aback by the question, and the tone in his voice. There's no judgement, no accusation, but the statement still manages to catch you off guard. You set your menu down and meet his gaze. "I suppose we are. Why?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. He glances at his menu and then back at you. "It's just...the two of you seem like a good team. That's all."

"We've known each other a long time," you reply, not entirely sure what he's trying to get at. "And we're good friends."

"I've noticed," Rex says quietly. His expression is guarded and unreadable. He's not being hostile, and his tone isn't rude, but the conversation feels oddly...tense. You desperately want to reach out and sift through his thoughts, but you don't, your curiosity not enough of an excuse to cross such a line. So you wait, your hands clenched under the table, your eyes searching his face for some clue as to where this is going.

Rex seems to sense your apprehension, and he sighs. He puts his menu down and leans forward, his eyes fixed on yours.

"You're different around him," he says carefully. "Around everyone else, you're..."

"Distant," you offer. Your voice is soft, and a bit sad. You're not proud of the fact, and you're not sure how else to describe it. "Unfriendly. Cold. Difficult. Take your pick."

Rex is quiet for a moment. He's not judging, and he doesn't seem angry. In fact, if anything, he looks a bit hurt.

"I was going to say intimidating," he corrects, frowning. He tilts his head. "Is that really how you see yourself?"

"Isn't it how everyone sees me?" you challenge.

"I don't."

"Liar.” You scoff. You lean back in the booth and arch an eyebrow. "We barely know each other."

"I think I'm beginning to understand you pretty well," he argues. "And I don't think I've ever met someone more selfless or compassionate." 

"You should get out more."

"Seriously," Rex says. He sits up and holds your gaze. "I’m not the only one who thinks that way. Everyone else, they just...don't know you well enough."

"You don't know me at all," you tell him. "Not really."

"Maybe not," he says. "But I'd like to."

You stare at him, unable to believe what you're hearing.

"Why?"

He's silent for a few moments, his brow furrowing. His jaw is set and his eyes are focused on the table, his fingers tapping against the surface. Finally, he looks up at you, and he sighs.

“Because I think it’s important to know who you're fighting beside," he explains. "And I'd rather die knowing the person standing next to me."

"That's a pretty bleak outlook," you mumble. You can't argue with the sentiment, but the words still sting. You've never been much for talking about yourself, and even less for sharing personal information.

You pick up your menu and hide behind it, pretending to look over the lunch options. "And there’s not much to know."

"I find that hard to believe." Rex reaches out and gently pulls the menu down, his eyes meeting yours. "Look, I didn't mean to offend you. Or pry. I just—"

"I'm not offended," you say, and you shrug. "Just surprised."

"Why's that?"

"It's just rare to hear someone say they'd like to get to know me," you explain. You pause, and then, after a moment, you decide to continue, "Most people either already know who I am or don't want to know. There's no middle ground."

"That's unfortunate," Rex replies. He picks up his menu again and looks it over. "And unfair. You're not all that bad."

"Not all that bad," you repeat with a small smile. "I'm flattered."

"You should be," he says. He glances up at you, and his face is serious, but his eyes are shining with mischief. "I'm an excellent judge of character."

You chuckle, and the tension breaks as FLO returns with two mugs and a carafe of caf. You manage to persuade her to leave the pot, and Rex can't hide his delight at the first sip, his eyes closing as he takes a deep drink, a content sigh escaping him. You bite your cheek in an effort to disguise your smile as he practically moans.

"I take it the stuff in the mess hall isn't as good as this?" you tease.

"Nothing's as good as this," he murmurs. He opens his eyes and gives you a sheepish grin. "Sorry. It’s been a while since I've had a proper cup of caf."

"I can imagine," you laugh, and you nod toward the pot. "There's plenty more."

"You're my hero," he jokes. He picks up the carafe and refills his cup, taking another sip, his eyes fluttering closed again. He shakes his head and smiles at you. "Best cup I've had in a long time."

"I'm glad you approve," you say as you pour your own drink and spoon sugar into it, trying to hide your amusement. 

You're not sure why, but you like watching him enjoy things, even something as simple as a mug of caf. There's something sweet and charming about it, something almost innocent. He's seen far too much for someone his age, and yet, he still manages to hold onto his optimism and his spirit. He's not jaded or cynical. He's a good person, one of the best you've ever met, and you're finding it hard not to admire him. 

You pick up your mug and lift it in a toast. "To proper caf."

"Proper caf," he echoes. He knocks his cup against yours, and the two of you drink. He sets his mug down and leans back in his seat. "So, what do you recommend?"

"What do you like?"

"Honestly? No idea," he answers. He gestures toward the menu. "I'm a bit out of my depth here. Never had real food. Only rations, or whatever the mess serves."

"Right," you say. You take a sip of your caf and scan the page. "How about I order a few things, and we can share?”

“That would be great,” he says, sounding relieved. “Don’t want to embarrass myself.”

“Oh, please," you snort. You wave a dismissive hand and give him a smile. "No worries. It'll be our secret."

You flag down FLO and order, and Rex falls silent, his gaze focused on the window, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. The droid wheels away, but he doesn’t look back over. He takes another drink and sighs, his fingers drumming the table, his brow furrowed slightly. 

You tilt your head, waiting, and he lets out a breath, his expression becoming neutral as he turns back to you. 

"If I ask a question, will you answer honestly?"

"Depends on the question."

"Fair enough."

He drums his fingers on the table again, and then he squares his shoulders and clears his throat, his eyes focused on your face. His expression is calm, but you can feel a hint of apprehension. Whatever he's about to say, he's nervous. And that makes you nervous.

"The last time we spoke, you seemed certain that the Jedi Council was going to punish you," Rex says slowly. "And you knew how they were going to handle Ahsoka. Like you were speaking from experience."

You stiffen and take a sip of caf, avoiding his gaze and hoping that he doesn't notice your sudden discomfort, but it doesn't take a genius to know that you've been caught off guard. And that you're not particularly keen on talking about the subject. 

You'd thought you'd done well to avoid the topic of your past indiscretions during your time with the Order, but apparently, you hadn't been as subtle as you'd hoped. Rex was too smart for that. You should have known better.

"That's not a question," you tell him. It's an obvious deflection, and the way his eyes narrow makes it clear that he's not buying it. But it's a deflection nonetheless, and you're not inclined to give him an honest answer. 

"Would you be willing to answer if I asked it?" Rex asks cautiously. He hesitates, and you can feel him probing, trying to gauge how receptive you are. 

You give him nothing, your face a carefully constructed mask of polite indifference. It's the expression you'd perfected as a youngling, and the one that has served you well for years. It's kept people from asking questions, and it's kept you from having to answer them. 

Rex seems to recognize it immediately, and he lets out a breath, a rueful smile on his lips. He leans back in his seat, his eyes studying your face, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and he lets out a low chuckle.

"What?" you ask, your brow furrowing.

"Nothing," he says. He shakes his head and shrugs. "Just starting to understand why you and General Skywalker get along so well.”

"Meaning?"

"Meaning the two of you are both stubborn," Rex chuckles, and he picks up his mug and takes a sip. "He does that same thing, the whole stone wall routine."

"Does he?"

"Yeah."

"Good for him."

Rex scoffs and shakes his head again, but he doesn't say anything, his gaze drifting back to the window. There's a slight crease between his brows, and you can tell he's debating whether or not to drop the subject.

“Look,” he starts. He turns back to you and meets your eyes, his face serious. "I can tell you're not comfortable talking about it. I just...want to know what to expect. What I can do. How I can help."

"I don't need your help," you tell him. It's a knee-jerk response, one that has always been your go-to, and you know it's not exactly true. You sigh and shake your head. "I mean...it's not that simple."

"Okay." He nods, his face patient, his eyes kind. "Can you explain?"

"It's...complicated." You hesitate, and you pick at your nails, staring at the table, your mind racing. You're not sure how to begin, or where to start, or what to say. How to put into words the shame and guilt and regret. You open your mouth, and the words are there, but they're stuck in your throat, refusing to budge.

Rex watches you for a few seconds, and then he sits forward and picks up the carafe, pouring more caf into your mug. You blink, the spell broken, and he pushes the cup toward you along with the sugar you’ve been using.

"Here.”

"Thanks," you reply, grateful for the interruption. You add the sweetener, and stir, your eyes on your mug. 

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me,” he says softly. His hand is resting on the table, his fingers tapping the surface. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pressed."

"It's not that I don't want to," you tell him, the words tumbling out. “Well, okay, it is, but...not for the reasons you're thinking."

"Then what are they?"

You sigh, and you rub your eyes, the exhaustion from the night before settling in. You don't want to lie, and you're tired of secrets, and he's been nothing but understanding and supportive. If there's anyone who might understand, it's him. 

"I'm just...not a very good Jedi."

"You can't be serious," Rex says. He looks appalled, and a little indignant. He shakes his head, and his mouth presses into a thin line. "Of course you are.”

"Hardly." You scoff, and you gesture vaguely in the air, not meeting his eyes. "I have a very complicated relationship with the Council. One that involves me doing the opposite of whatever they want me to do. On multiple occasions."

Rex smirks. "Another thing you and General Skywalker have in common."

"Maybe," you admit. "But I've been on their shit list longer than he has."

"And what have you done to earn that?" he asks. His tone is light, but his words are direct, and a little pointed. He's not judging you, but he wants an answer. A real one. And you're not sure you can give him one, but you try anyway.

"I...have a lot of opinions. And I'm not very good at keeping them to myself, as you know. The Council doesn't appreciate it, and neither do some of the other Jedi."

"That's hardly a crime," he points out.

"Maybe not," you concede. There's a moment of silence, and then you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There's...something else."

"Something else?"

"It's not just the opinions."

You fiddle with the spoon, trying to find the right words, trying to figure out how much you should tell him. But the truth is, you don't want to have any more secrets. You trust Rex, perhaps more than you should, and the idea of sharing this particular secret with him is oddly appealing And maybe, just maybe, it will help.

"I'm...not always in the best place, mentally," you finally confess. You keep your voice low, and your eyes on the table, afraid to look at him. You've never said the words out loud, you’ve never had to with Obi-Wan, and he’s the only one you’d ever spoken to about this. The only one still alive, anyway. "Obi-Wan's been...kind enough to overlook it. For the most part."

"For the most part?"

"He has his limits," you explain. You run a hand through your hair, your eyes still downcast. "There are certain things that are...not permitted. Or rather, certain ways that Jedi shouldn't behave. And, as far as the Council is concerned, my behavior has crossed that line on several occasions."

"What sort of behavior?" Rex asks quietly.

"You mean besides arguing with them and disobeying their orders?" you counter.

"Yeah."

You hesitate. You've come this far, and you know you've already said too much, but there's no turning back now. You take a deep breath, and you push aside your pride and your anxiety, your eyes meeting his.

“This doesn’t leave this table, alright? If I tell you, it doesn't go any further. No one can know. You understand?"

"Of course," he agrees immediately. "I won't say a word."

You take a long drink of your caf and let out a sigh, your gaze falling back to the table. It's now or never.

"When I was a youngling, I was apprenticed to a Master," you tell him, keeping your voice low, even though the diner is mostly empty. "Her name was Yaddle. She was one of the High Council members. By that point, I’d had a...history. Of trouble. Of making trouble. I was a handful."

"A handful?" Rex asks, and the corner of his mouth twitches.

"Oh, yes." You roll your eyes, and you can't help the smirk that crosses your face. “Starting fights, running off, talking back, getting in the way, breaking rules. Anything and everything I could think of to get attention."

"And why would a kid like that be apprenticed to one of the most important people in the entire Order?" he asks. "Didn't anyone else want you?"

"No," you admit, and you laugh, a bitter, hollow sound. "Not really. Most people didn't want anything to do with me. The Masters all thought I was too much of a problem. Too difficult."

"Why'd she take you?"

"I don't know," you confess. “At first, I thought it was a punishment, but...after a while, I realized it wasn’t. She genuinely wanted me. And she was the first person who did. I mean, really wanted me."

Rex nods, his face solemn. "What happened?"

"She died," you answer bluntly. You stare at the table and shrug, your eyes burning, and you bite the inside of your cheek. "After the Naboo incident, I’d gone to attend the funeral of Obi-Wan’s Master. She was supposed to come with me, but she said she needed to stay on Coruscant. She said she'd catch up later. But later that night, I felt it. The moment she was gone. I just...felt it. It’s hard to explain if you haven't experienced it. The severing of the bond."

"That must have been rough," Rex murmurs.

"It was," you agree. You swallow hard and look up at him, and the concern and sympathy in his eyes almost breaks you. "And the worst part was, no one believed me. They told me it was my imagination, or a trick of the mind, or a hallucination. But I knew what I felt. She was gone.”

"That's terrible," he says, his voice quiet. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I can’t say it was entirely unwarranted." You let out a bitter laugh and take a drink of your caf. “After she was gone, I was...angry. Really angry. And the Masters and the Council were so busy trying to keep the Order together, no one paid any attention to me. Which meant no one noticed when I started investigating. On my own."

"Investigating what?"

"Her death." you say. You finish your caf and set the cup down, turning it between your fingers, and you let out a long breath. You glance around and lower your voice even more, and Rex leans forward, his brow furrowed. "It was murder. I know it was. I managed to find a few clues, but nothing concrete, and I…”

You trail off and stop, suddenly unable to continue. Your mouth goes dry, and you feel sick. You know what you did. You know what you've done, but saying it out loud makes it real. It means you're acknowledging the worst thing you've ever done, and, while you've done some terrible things, this was different. This was personal. And it hurt. More than anything.

"You did something." Rex's voice is soft, and gentle, and there's no judgement, only understanding. You don't deserve it. You know you don't. But it's hard to ignore the warmth that fills your chest. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. "What was it?"

“It wasn’t intentional. It wasn't like I'd planned to do it. It just...happened," you explain. Your hands shake slightly, and you curl them into fists to steady them. "Obi-Wan and I had an argument, and I stormed out. I went off alone to the Undercity, and I was angry, and hurt, and...and I wasn't paying attention."

"You weren't paying attention?" Rex repeats, his brow furrowed. He sits forward, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth is a tight line. "What do you mean? You weren't paying attention to what?"

"I let my guard down," you tell him. You hesitate, and then continue. "I should've known someone would be after me. After what happened. But I was too busy trying to figure out what to do next that I didn't even think..." 

You trail off and close your eyes. You can feel the tears threatening to spill over. You open your eyes and force yourself to meet his. "I was tricked into entering a trap. By the time I realized it was a set-up, it was too late.

"I found some of Yaddle’s things planted there, and then I was attacked. They used the Force to restrain me," you say evenly. "They put me in a chokehold somehow. I couldn't move or speak or fight back. They told me that I should've stayed away. And then, they..."

Your throat closes and your chest tightens as the memory flashes across your mind, as fresh as the day it happened. You can feel the cold, damp air of the Undercity, the pressure around your neck, the sound of their voice in your ear, the taste of blood in your mouth. 

The rage and fear and shame are just as strong as they were back then, and you have to clench your hands into fists to stop them from shaking, the urge to scream and break something almost overwhelming. You take a few seconds to calm yourself, and when you speak again, your voice is hoarse.

"They tried to kill me," you say. "And something inside me…clicked. A power I didn’t know I had. I lost control. I nearly collapsed a building on us both. The attacker escaped." 

You pause and take another deep breath. "I don't remember much after that. I was barely conscious. All I could think about was getting out. I don't know how I made it back to the Temple. I only found out later that some civilians were caught in the collapse."

Rex doesn't respond. His jaw is clenched, his mouth set, and his eyes are focused on you. You’re taken aback by his reaction, the force of it a surprise. You had expected sympathy or concern. Pity, maybe. But not anger.

"What?" you ask.

"How long ago was this?" 

“I was twenty, so...about ten years ago."

"Ten years," Rex repeats, his expression darkening. "You've been carrying this around for ten years?"

You sit back and fold your arms across your chest, watching him. You can’t help but feel defensive, and more than a little irritated.

"You seem upset."

"You almost died," he snaps. He lets out a huff and shakes his head. "Someone set a trap for you, and you almost died."

"That's generally what happens when you're careless." You try to keep your tone light, but the look he gives you is fierce. His eyes are hard and cold, his jaw tight, and his shoulders are tense. He's furious. You frown. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"What?" Rex asks. He blinks, and his face softens slightly. "No. No, I'm not angry with you. I'm just...concerned."

"You don't need to be."

"I think I do," he counters, and he leans forward, his eyes searching your face. “Who was it? The person who attacked you?"

"I don't know," you say honestly. "I never saw their face. But I have a few theories that I’m still trying to confirm."

"Any suspects?"

"One."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Maybe."

Rex's frown deepens, and he leans back, his expression wary. "What aren't you telling me?"

"A lot." You shrug, and he rolls his eyes, which makes you smile. "I'm not trying to be coy. There's just a lot of information that isn't relevant to the current situation. Or your job."

"I disagree."

"You would," you scoff. You sit back and cross your arms over your chest. "Look, this is...really hard for me, okay? And I'm not exactly eager to relive the whole thing. Especially with someone who could easily report me."

"I wouldn't," he says, quick and earnest, and his brow furrows. “I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it. But, if there's someone out there who wants you dead, we should be aware."

"There are a lot of people who want me dead," you reply with a huff of laughter. “That comes with being a Jedi. We tend to piss people off."

"This was personal," Rex argues. He sits forward, his eyes narrowed, and his hands folded on the table. "You said the attacker told you that you should've stayed away. They knew you."

"I did."

"Which means they're likely connected to your investigation into Master Yaddle's death," he points out. “Potentially even the murderer themself.”

"Maybe."

"So who do you think it was?"

You give him a long, hard look, and he meets your gaze. His eyes are unflinching, and his jaw is set. He's not going to back down. And, even though you know you shouldn't, you can't help but admire him for it. He's stubborn and tenacious, and it's hard to refuse him. Harder than you'd like to admit.

You sit forward, folding your hands in front of you, and your voice drops to a low whisper. “Dooku.”

"Count Dooku?" Rex repeats. He blinks, and his eyes widen. He glances around, leaning forward and keeping his voice low. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Dooku," he whispers. His mouth sets in a grim line, and he shakes his head. "That's...that's a pretty serious accusation."

"I know." You sigh and lean back, running a hand through your hair. "Look, I've had a lot of time to think about it, and it makes sense. Dooku has the resources and the ability. Plus, he has a personal connection to Yaddle, and he was missing from the funeral the night she died, despite Qui-Gon being his Padawan. The only thing I’m still shaky on is the motive.”

"That's a solid theory,” he admits, his tone resigned, as he rubs the scar on his chin with his thumb. “On Geonosis, you wanted to go after him. I stopped you.”

“Yeah, well, it turned out to be a good call." You snort and shake your head. “If I had, I'd be dead. He probably would've killed me before I even got close."

"Still," he insists. He takes a deep breath, and he studies your face. "So what happened next?"

"Next? I tried to forget it ever happened. And, for a while, I succeeded," you answer. You can't keep the bitterness out of your voice. "I didn't tell anyone. Not the Council, not Obi-Wan. Nobody."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't have proof. I had a necklace and a few vague memories."

You shrug, and he raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. You let out a frustrated sigh, and you drop your gaze to the table.

"It was easier, alright? I was afraid. If I told them the truth of what happened, and the power I used, they'd send me away," you confess. You pick at your nails, and your voice is quiet. "The Council was already looking for a reason to get rid of me. If they found out what I'd done, that I'd…killed civilians, even if it was an accident...I’d have been expelled or sent to rot in the Citadel."

"They'd do that?"

"Without hesitation," you tell him. "They're not exactly big on second chances when it comes to the Dark Side. And they were already convinced I was going to fall."

"That's absurd."

"Is it?" You glance up at him and smirk. "They were right, in the end."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true."

"No, it isn't."

"Rex—"

"No," he says firmly. He reaches out and gently tugs your hands away from where they're picking at your nails, and he squeezes once before dropping them. "Whatever happened, whatever you did, it doesn't define you. You're a good person."

You bite the inside of your cheek and shake your head. "I’d hold your applause until the end."

"I'm serious."

"So am I," you snap. You sit forward, your hands curling into fists. "You're acting like I didn't do anything wrong, or that I'm somehow an innocent party in all this. I’m not. What I did was terrible. And the consequences were severe."

"I understand, but—"

"You don't," you say flatly. "You can't."

He opens his mouth, and you hold up a hand, stopping him. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, forcing yourself to calm down.

"Sorry," you murmur. You rub a hand over your face and shake your head. "This is a lot harder than I thought."

"You don't have to explain anything," Rex says quietly. His voice is warm and soothing, and when you look up, his eyes are kind. He offers a small smile, and you try your best to return it.

"I know. But I want to."

"Are you sure?"

"No," you sigh. "But I'm doing it anyway."

Rex nods, and you let out a breath. You can feel the anger and shame and guilt still simmering below the surface, but it's tempered by his reassurance. 

"So," you continue. "Where were we?"

"After the attack," he answers, his eyes on your face.

"Right. Well, things were...awkward, to say the least," you admit as look out the window. "For a while, no one would talk to me. They avoided me, or looked the other way, or pretended not to see me. Which was fine, I guess. I wasn't exactly keen on talking to anyone either."

"What about General Kenobi?"

"Obi-Wan? No. Not really." You hesitate, and then you shake your head. “Actually, no. Not at all. He didn't say a word to me."

"That doesn't sound like him," Rex remarks.

"No, it doesn't," you agree. You can't hide your bitterness, and Rex seems to notice.

"Did he say why?"

"Not at first. We didn't really speak to each other for the next decade, actually," you say, your tone dry. "We kept our distance. He was busy training Anakin, and I was busy..."

"Busy what?"

"Busy trying not to lose my mind," you answer, your voice hollow. You swallow hard, and force yourself to look him in the eye. "The isolation was hard. No one wanted anything to do with me, and I was...paranoid. I thought everyone was watching me. Waiting for me to slip up. So I kept my head down. I did my duty. I served, I waited.”

"Waited for what?"

"An opportunity." You let out a slow breath, and you can't stop the bitterness from seeping into your words. "Turns out, that opportunity was the Clone Wars. You know what happened on Geonosis, but later, before we were…reunited, I was sent on a mission. I encountered the man who lured me into the trap, and, when I realized it was him, I...lost control. Again."

"You lost control." Rex frowns, his eyes narrowing. He leans forward, his hands on the table, his gaze locked on yours. "What happened?"

“I left my charge to track him down. He didn’t have much to offer, just that he was paid anonymously to lure me into the Undercity." You rub your temples, the memory flashing through your mind. "While I was interrogating him, the Senator that I was protecting was attacked. 

“I hurt people that day saving her, and when I returned to Coruscant, the Council decided that enough was enough. They suspended me from duty and placed me under constant supervision. I was a liability, and an embarrassment. They told me that, if I continued to act like a child, I would be treated like one."

"That's harsh."

"It was fair," you say, and he scoffs. "They didn't trust me. I didn't trust myself. I was angry and reckless and out of control, and I hurt the people I was supposed to protect. The only way I could protect anyone was by staying out of the field and away from the war. I'd failed. I'd let my emotions get the best of me, and it had almost cost me everything."

"That doesn't make it right," he argues. "What you did, losing control, it was an accident. They shouldn't have treated you like a criminal."

"I was a danger," you remind him. “And the Order can’t afford to have unstable Jedi. It's our job to maintain order and peace. We can't do that if we can't control ourselves."

"You weren't dangerous. You weren't unstable," he argues. He takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. "You were scared. I may not be a Jedi, but I know what fear does. It's a survival instinct. And, sometimes, the body does things to protect itself that the mind doesn't understand. You weren't in control of yourself. It was an accident."

"It doesn't matter," you reply. You sigh and run a hand through your hair, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. “We’re supposed to be able to control ourselves. Our feelings, our actions, our thoughts. We're trained to use the Force, it's not supposed to be the other way around. What I did...what happened...it was wrong. And it can’t happen again. Not ever."

Rex falls silent, his brow furrowed, his eyes fixed on your face. After a moment, he nods, and he sits back in his chair, letting out a long breath. 

"Okay."

"Okay?" you repeat incredulously. "That's all you're going to say?"

"Yes," he answers. His mouth twitches, and his eyes meet yours. "What did you expect me to say?"

"I don't know," you confess, and you can feel a small grin forming. "Kinda expected you to lecture me, honestly. Maybe argue with me a little bit more."

"Do you want me to?" Rex asks, the corner of his mouth turning up in a wry grin when you roll your eyes. "Because I can. You seem to enjoy arguing with me."

"It is fun," you admit, and his lips curve into a full-blown smile, his eyes sparkling. "And you are good at it."

"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late." He chuckles, and it's such a genuine sound that you can't help but join him. The tight knot in your chest loosens slightly, and you let out a breath, a wave of relief washing over you.

You feel lighter, as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. There's a quiet calm in the air, and you allow yourself a moment to relax. You can't help the small flutter in your chest when Rex’s eyes meet yours, his smile bright.

He looks younger when he smiles, the stress and tension gone from his face. You like seeing him this way. Happy and relaxed. It suits him.

"Thank you. For trusting me,” Rex says, voice soft and sincere.

"Well, thank you for listening." You take a drink of caf and smile at him over the rim of your cup. "And thank you for not judging me."

He shakes his head. "You don't need my judgement. You're doing enough of that yourself."

"I am not," you protest. He raises an eyebrow, and you scoff. "Okay, maybe I am. But only because it's true."

"Maybe," he says. "But, if you don't mind me saying, it's also unnecessary."

"I do mind,” you mutter. "I was reckless and arrogant and stupid, and a lot of people got hurt because of it. Including me."

"You made a mistake." He shrugs, and his smile fades, his expression becoming serious. "Everyone does. That doesn't make you a bad person. Or a bad Jedi."

"Then what does that make me?"

"Human."

You snort, and you take a long sip of caf, trying not to roll your eyes. Rex chuckles and ducks his head. "All right, that was cheesy, I'll admit. But it's true. That's what makes us different from droids. We're flawed. We make mistakes. It's how we learn."

"Some of us more than others."

"True."

"You're being too nice to me," you tell him, only half-joking. You finish your caf and set the mug on the table, folding your hands in your lap. "You're making me uncomfortable."

"I'm not," he argues. He tilts his head, studying you. "I'm being honest."

"Same difference."

Rex huffs, exasperated, and his eyes roll up. "Why does everything have to be a fight with you?"

"It doesn't," you say. You smile, and it's a real one. "Just most things."

He starts to reply, but FLO returns before he can, rolling to a stop beside the table with a tray floating beside her. It's overflowing with food, and the smell is incredible. Your mouth waters. You're hungrier than you realized.

"Here you go," she chirps. She lowers the tray onto the table, and she starts unloading the plates. Rex's eyes are as wide as yours, and the both of you sit in stunned silence, watching as the diner droid arranges the food with a flurry of mechanical arms. "This is the breakfast platter, the lunch platter, and the dinner platter. Enjoy."

"FLO, wait," you call, but the droid is already rolling away. "There's way too much food here."

"Not a problem," she says cheerfully. She stops and turns around, her mechanical arms whirring. "Anything for you, honey. You just let me know if you need anything else."

"Thank you," you say, smiling. She lets out a pleased beep and rolls away, leaving you alone with Rex and more food than either of you could possibly eat. "Wow."

"Wow," Rex echoes. He's staring at the table, his eyes wide, and you're pretty sure you've rendered him speechless. He shakes his head, his mouth hanging open, and he meets your eyes. "Is it always like this here?"

"I mean, yeah, but this is a lot, even for her," you say. You glance at the tray and let out a low whistle. "She must really like you."

"Lucky me," he mutters, and you snort. He frowns at the pile of food, his brow furrowed, and he glances at you. "So, how are we doing this?"

"You need a strategy for everything, Captain?” 

"No."

"Then stop stalling," you tease, and he fixes you with a flat look. "Just try what looks good. If we can't eat it, she'll pack it up. Don't worry."

"Right," he says. He hesitates, and you roll your eyes and snatch a slice of toast from the plate. "How are we splitting this?"

"I don't know. You pick first, and I'll grab whatever's left." You take a bite of the toast, and Rex gives you a long look. You shrug, your mouth full. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Then quit looking at me and eat."

He sighs, but he reaches for a bowl, and for a few minutes, the two of you eat in companionable silence. You keep an eye on Rex, watching him from the corner of your eye as he tries everything FLO has given him. His expression is thoughtful, and he takes his time, trying to decide what he likes best. He's savoring every bite, and every time he takes a sip of caf, his face relaxes, his shoulders sagging. 

It's kind of endearing, in a weird sort of way. And, as you watch him, a small, traitorous part of your mind wonders if it'd be so bad to have this every day. This quiet. This calm. You quickly banish the thought, and you shove another piece of bread in your mouth.

You can't think like that. You can't allow yourself to become attached.

You don't realize you've been staring until Rex looks up, catching your eye. His cheeks flush and he puts down his fork.

"Sorry," he says, a little sheepishly. He gestures vaguely at the food. "I didn't mean to—"

"Don't be sorry," you cut in. You shake your head, and the words come out without your permission. "It's cute."

Rex's eyebrows shoot up, and he lets out a short, sharp laugh, the corner of his mouth turning up in a half-smile. "Cute?"

"Yes," you say, and you try to sound confident, but you can't quite keep the edge of embarrassment out of your voice. You duck your head and take a bite of fruit, keeping your gaze focused on the table. "Relax. You're fine."

"If you say so."

"I do."

You can feel him watching you, and you resist the urge to hide behind your hands. Instead, you take another bite, and you're careful not to look at him, afraid you'll make things even more awkward than they already are. You can still feel his eyes on you, and the heat rises in your cheeks, your ears burning.

"So," you start, the silence suddenly unbearable. "Any big plans while you're on shore leave? Aside from eating.

"Not really," he admits. He takes a long drink, and he leans back in his seat. "I was just going to rest, honestly. Catch up on reports. Maybe spend some time in the sims."

"You can't just spend a day relaxing?" you ask. He shrugs, and you can't help but smile. "What do you do for fun?"

"Fun?"

"Yeah." You gesture vaguely in the air, and you tilt your head, watching him. "Like, something that doesn't involve work."

"Oh." Rex frowns and stares at the table. His expression is thoughtful, and you get the sense that no one's ever asked him that question before. He meets your eyes and shrugs. "I don't know. I read, sometimes. Watch the holonet. Train. Nothing exciting."

"You like to read?"

"I like to learn," he says. He gives you a half-grin, and he picks up his fork, poking at the scrambled eggs on his plate. "You can learn a lot from military history. And there's not much else to do on a starship other than train or sleep. Reading's a good way to pass the time."

"Fair point."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah," he says. "What do you do when you're not on duty?"

"Honestly? The same thing as you," you confess. He snorts, and you shrug. "I'm not exactly a social butterfly, if you haven't noticed. Most of my free time is spent in the library, or the Temple gardens."

"I have noticed."

"Well, there you go."

Rex smiles, and he shifts in the booth, stretching out his legs. His knees brush yours under the table, and you ignore the rush of warmth that courses through your veins. It's strange. He's wearing armor, and the touch should be cold, hard, uncomfortable. Instead, it's the opposite. His armor is warm and solid and sturdy. Comforting, even. 

You shift your legs away from his. You need to stop.

"Tell me," you start, and Rex glances up. He's still smiling, and he's watching you intently. You gesture at the empty plate in front of him. "Was that better or worse than the rations?"

"Better," he answers immediately. He grins, and his eyes meet yours, soft and bright. "Definitely better."

"Good." You smile back, and you can't help but be proud. Your foot nudges his under the table. "I'm glad."

"Thanks for this," he says, nodding towards the tray of food. His gaze meets yours, and his voice is warm and sincere. "For bringing me here. It's...it's nice."

"Of course," you say. You duck your head and try to ignore the sudden rush of warmth in your chest. You swallow hard and focus on the table, pushing down the feeling. "We can come back again, if you want. There's plenty more I can show you. If you're interested."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," he says. His smile is gentle, and he tilts his head. "I'd like that."

"Me, too," you say. You smile back at him, and his lips twitch. His foot nudges yours, and, this time, you don't move away.

The rest of the meal passes quickly. You finish eating, and the two of you sit for a while longer, chatting about everything and nothing until the sun begins to dip lower behind the buildings towering over you.

Eventually, though, it's time to leave. You pay for the food, ignoring Rex's protest with a quip about the Republic’s illimitable pocketbook, and you head outside into the late afternoon sun. The street is busy, filled with the bustle and noise of people going about their lives, and the two of you stand on the sidewalk, unsure of what to do next.

"So," Rex starts, and he rocks back on his heels, his hands clasped behind his back. He looks awkward, almost nervous. "I guess I should go."

"Yeah," you say, and, despite the fact that you've been telling yourself all day that this is a bad idea, your heart sinks. You gesture vaguely toward the Temple looming in the distance. "Me too. I've got some things I should probably deal with."

"Right."

The silence stretches between the two of you, and neither one of you moves. After a few seconds, Rex clears his throat, and he meets your eyes.

"Thank you again. For bringing me here," he says, his voice soft. "And for the food."

"Don't mention it," you reply with a small smile.

You look down at the ground and kick at a stray stone, trying to bury the sudden pang of sadness. You'd had fun. More fun than you'd had in a long time, but you're not naive enough to believe that this is something that can happen again. Your schedules are far too erratic, and you're not sure you can trust yourself around him. The brief physical contact is already beginning to wear on your resolve. 

"I'll see you later then," you tell him, forcing a casual tone.

"Later," he agrees. 

He takes a step forward and hesitates. For half a second, you think he might hug you, which is a ridiculous thought. He wouldn't. And you certainly wouldn't let him. But there's something in the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes flick down to your lips, the way his hands flex at his sides. 

For a moment, everything feels frozen. Neither of you move, and neither of you speak. The noise of the crowd seems distant, and the world falls away. It's just the two of you, standing there, waiting. Waiting for something, anything.

And then Rex nods stiffly, his hands resting on his hips, and he takes a step back. "Take care, sir."

"You too, Captain."

You turn and walk away.

When you finally make it back to your room in the Temple, you flop down onto your bed, your head buried in the pillow. You let out a long sigh and close your eyes, the sound of Rex's voice still ringing in your ears. 

He'd been kind and charming and sweet, and he'd listened to you and laughed with you and made you smile. And, for a brief moment, you'd forgotten all about the war, the Order, and everything else. You'd just existed.

It was stupid. You were stupid.

But you'd had fun.

It'd been nice.

Really, really nice.

"Shit," you mumble into your pillow. You roll over and stare up at the ceiling, and you groan.

This is going to be harder than you thought it would be.

taglist: @baddest-batchers @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear

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@silly-starfish @floofyroro

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Erin Reed at Erin In The Morning:

On Wednesday, January 15, Maine scheduled a working session on a bill titled “An Act to Safeguard Gender-affirming Healthcare,” a bill that would declare the state a refuge for transgender people fleeing hostile states. In the past two years, similar measures have been enacted or issued through executive orders in 14 states and the District of Columbia. These laws have proven effective; for example, Seattle Children's Hospital in Washington was shielded from a subpoena that would have required them to share patient information across state borders due to legislation passed there. In response, major anti-trans Republican accounts such as Libs of TikTok and Riley Gaines attacked the bill on social media, erroneously claiming it would require the state to “take custody” of trans youth being denied gender affirming care.

The bill modifies several aspects of state to protect transgender individuals within Maine's borders. One section would prevent states from issuing search warrants or demanding the extradition of transgender individuals who have received gender-affirming care. This is especially important considering attempts by some state attorneys general to investigate parents of transgender youth, including across state lines. In Texas, Attorney General Ken Paxton infamously dispatched agents to interrogate transgender children statewide. The Maine bill aims to ensure that transgender individuals and their families, who seek safety and medical care in the state, are not compelled to return to their home states by extremist attorneys general, possibly under the threat of arrest. It would also make arresting the parents of trans youth pursuant to out of state warrants the “lowest law enforcement priority.” Another provision would protect abandoned or abused transgender kids, giving the state temporary emergency jurisdiction over the child if the child is within Maine’s borders and has been unable to get gender affirming medical or mental healthcare. Importantly, this provision does not not imply, as some conservative accounts have proclaimed, that the state will “take away trans kids from non-affirming parents.” Rather, this provision merely gives judges temporary jurisdiction over a kid present in the state. The state would still have to prove to a judge that a transgender teen is at risk of abuse or neglect if returned to their family in the exact same way the state would have to prove similar things about a cisgender kid.

[...] In response to the bill, several right-wing anti-trans accounts issued viral calls to action, erroneously calling the bill a “child trafficking bill.” The account “Courage Is A Habit” spread a misleading graphic claiming that parents will be denied custody of their children and that it would “negatively impact parental rights.” Libs of TikTok claimed that Maine would “take custody of your kids” if parents did not give them “sex change surgery.” Anti-trans swimmer Riley Gaines shared a list of email addresses to legislators on the committee, urging her followers to message them, and further meetings on the bill have been pushed to January 25th. Should Maine pass this law, it would join 14 other states and the District Of Columbia in establishing the state as a refuge for transgender people fleeing unsafe states.

Maine could be the 15th state to pass a trans safe refuge state law protecting trans people fleeing from prosecution in anti-trans states such as Florida and Texas.

Anti-trans extremists such as Libs of TikTok and Riley Gaines have distorted the details of Maine's #LD1735, falsely calling the bill a "child trafficking bill."

See Also:

LGBTQ Nation: Maine legislators frantically working to make the state a trans refuge

[hardynwa]

Again, gunmen kill five farmers in Plateau

It was learnt that the attacks which resulted in the death of the victims occurred in the Kogul community of the council area on Thursday night. The latest attack was coming barely two days after some gunmen invaded Kwahas and Milet communities in the same council area and killed two people including a woman leader. A resident of the Kogul community, Sunday Dalyop, who confirmed the latest killings to The PUNCH in Jos on Friday, also said that that the gunmen burnt several houses in the locality and injured several others. Dalyop said, “Our people are presently in pain in Mangu because five people were killed, others injured and many houses burned by Fulani Milias in Kogul Community of Panyam District in the LGA “The militiamen arrived in the community at about 09:00 pm on 06/07/2023, they started shooting in different directions at the end 5 people were confirmed dead and many houses burned. The people are expressing concern as to why security agencies couldn’t do anything to make arrests and bring to an end this continuing attack on innocent farmers in the Council Area.” But a former governor of the state, Fidelis Tapgun, in an interview described the series of attacks in the state as very pathetic. He subsequently advised the federal and state governments to collaborate with the local communities and invest in information gathering so as to bring the ugly situation to an end. Tapgun said, “The security situation in Plateau state is a very unfortunate one and my heart goes out to the families of the victims. But I don’t know how the security architecture in the state is presently organized but whatever it is, there is the need for it to be reviewed. “Before I became governor, I grew up in the civil service and served as the Secretary of the Local Government in the state as well as the Sole Administrator up to the Cabinet Office where I served in Special Services Department and the Security Department. What I know at that time was that in the 1980s, every LGA chairman was the Chief Security Officer in his LGA. And in every LGA, there was a security committee headed by the chairman and comprises of various groups including traditional rulers, ward heads, market traders association, DPOs, DSS, and taxi drivers who meet every Monday of the week. “These groups hunt for Information happening in their various areas and reports were received from these categories of groups such that if there was going to be any problem or security breach of any kind, you get the information immediately and be able to address the issue. And then all the reports were summarised and sent back to the LGAs from where they get to the state government through the office of the Secretary to the State Government for onward dispatch to the office of the National Security Adviser. Such security arrangement worked effectively during the 80s and I think there is the need for the current administration to revisit that model and reintroduce it for the safety of our people in Plateau state and Nigeria at large” Read the full article

[dontmean2bepoliticalbut]

A rare party switch in the Missouri House could be in the offing after one Republican on Wednesday wasn’t allowed to speak against a GOP plan to restrict gender-affirming care for minors.

Rep. Chris Sander, R-Lone Jack, one of two openly gay Republicans in the Legislature, said Wednesday that local, state and national Republicans needed to decide whether gay and transgender Republicans were welcome.

“If they want to tell all Republicans who are gay to get out and go to the Democrat Party, they just need to do that,” Sander, a 2001 graduate of Hazelwood West High School in St. Louis County, told the Post-Dispatch.

Sander was one of three Republicans to vote against the restrictions, which are headed to Gov. Mike Parson, a Republican, for his consideration.

House Majority Leader Jonathan Patterson, R-Lee’s Summit, and Rep. Gary Bonacker, R-House Springs, also broke with their party to vote with Democrats against the ban.

Sander, who said he is Republican committeeman for the Van Buren Township in Jackson County, said he planned to speak at the county party’s May 22 meeting.

Members of the county GOP have tried to censure Sander for filing a resolution that would overturn Missouri’s constitutional ban on same-sex marriage, which was nullified by a 2015 Supreme Court decision.

“I’m going to rail against them and I’m going to say how I think it should be, and if they don’t like it, they can just get rid of me, and if that happens then I’ll be an independent or a Democrat,” Sander said, adding he might also consider becoming a Libertarian if he left the GOP.

“If they kick me off that (Jackson County GOP) committee, I will not be a Republican,” Sander said.

If Sander were to quit the GOP, he would join a short list of other House members over the past decade to leave their political party.

In 2015, then-Rep. Keith English, a Florissant Democrat, said he was leaving the Democratic Party to become an independent.

“This is no longer the Democrat Party of Bill Clinton or John F Kennedy. I’m leaving the party because I love my state,” English said at the time.

English’s decision to ditch the Democrats followed another Democratic defection a day after the 2014 midterms.

Then-Rep. Linda Black, who had been a Democrat from Desloge, switched to the Republican Party a day after the election after she ran unopposed.

Her St. Francois County district had a long history of electing Democrats but voters there have bolted to the Republicans in recent election cycles.

Sander’s eastern Jackson County 33rd District is roughly 58% Republican and 39% Democrat, according to an analysis of the district’s partisan makeup.

“I can see myself winning an election as a Republican or a Democrat or an independent,” he said.

Republicans controlled 117 seats in the House in 2015 following Black’s switch.

The GOP now controls 111 seats despite continuing to hold a two-thirds majority.

Democrats hold 51 seats following Democratic Rep. Rasheen Aldridge’s resignation this year to join the St. Louis Board of Aldermen. Parson has not called a special election to replace him.

[mariacallous]

To Westminster, district of the damned, where the Conservatives are plotting to commit leadercide yet again. They’ve dispatched so many over the past few years that it’s possible they regard Harold Shipman as the real opposition. You certainly get the feeling he could poll higher than them.

This morning, hot-mess chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng landed back in the UK, ready to drop the corporation tax cut in a joint announcement with Liz Truss, the new prime minister, whose central leadership pitch it was. Long story short: former Rishi Sunak-backer Jeremy Hunt is now chancellor and Truss has given one of the worst press conferences in the entire history of the genre, shortly after sending Kwarteng a letter “deeply respect[ing]” his decision to get knifed by her. Even Kwarteng’s predecessor, Nadhim Zahawi, held the office longer.

Ooh, hang on – chief secretary to the Treasury Chris Philp is also out. Fast food outlets currently have a slower turnover rate than the Treasury. Only yesterday, at the International Monetary Fund meeting he later fled, Kwarteng was declaring: “I really enjoy the Treasury. I really enjoy No 11.” Glad he took time to smell the roses. They blow up so quickly.

For some time now, it has been impossible to listen to Truss babbling about being “in lockstep” with her chancellor without imagining her being cut off by Agent Smith from the Matrix with the grimly brusque words: “No, prime minster, your chancellor is already dead.” In fact, it was over two weeks ago that Kwarteng suffered the fate of various movie villains. He may have appeared to be intact since then, but he had actually been very cleanly sliced in half, or delay-killed with a forbidden martial arts technique known as “the kiss of the markets”. Ironically, he departs the stage just as his mini-budget is finally becoming worthy of its descriptor. At this rate of U-turn, it will be so mini that the only thing left in it will be some opening remarks.

Will Hunt coming on for Kwarteng be enough to save Truss for 15 minutes or so? It’s not great when your first throw of the dice is also your last. Still, let’s take the temperature of the Conservative party’s restive MPs. According to their own heroic off-the-record testimony, the mood this week ran the gamut from “funereal” to “unspeakably bleak”. “We are being offered the choice of a shit sandwich,” one MP explained, “or a shit sandwich with extra shit.” Righto. When this was being said on Thursday, Truss had been prime minister for precisely 37 days. Coincidentally, that’s the exact number of days that elapsed between the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand and Britain joining the first world war – whose outbreak was arguably the only chain of events in modern history involving worse human error.

With only 9% of them holding a favourable view of her, it’s fair to say the public have got the ick with Liz Truss – and you don’t come back from the ick. Apparently keen to help, Jacob Rees-Mogg has had another date with density, spending much of the week trying to use his culture war playbook on the markets. Which is a bit like trying to have an Oxford Union debate with gravity. Things went from worse to worser after Truss’s Wednesday night appearance before the 1922, which you might know is that weirdo committee where they bang the desks and honk in-group gibberish like it’s Hogwarts for grownups and their house has just won a flying pensions-crashing match. Having to pay regular attention to things that happen at this cursed convocation has been one of the many, many indignities of British life over the past six years of chaos.

But there are always more indignities in the post. Take repeated attempts to make the idea of “Grant Shapps, party grandee” happen. Earlier this week, a plan was actually floated to install a man who once had multiple online aliases as a “caretaker prime minister”. Sorry, but what? I honestly wouldn’t install Grant as caretaker at the Overlook Hotel. Even Newcastle United hasn’t had caretakers that bad. Furthermore, if the UK wishes to hang on to its last remaining shred of dignity, it should be made clear that the position of “caretaker prime minster” is not an actual thing. Having the most important job in the country placed in the hands of a caretaker really is giving up: a signal that we should be moved out of the “declining” category and reclassified firmly in the “declined”.

The Shapps plan seems now to have been overtaken by a ruse to install Rishi Sunak and Penny Mordaunt on a joint ticket. An anonymous briefing to the Times on this matter is here reproduced in full. “Rishi’s people, Penny’s people and the sensible Truss supporters who realise she’s a disaster just need to sit down together and work out who the unity candidate is,” this MP breezed. “It’s either Rishi as prime minister with Penny as his deputy and foreign secretary, or Penny as prime minister with Rishi as chancellor. They would promise to lead a government of all the talents, and most MPs would fall in behind that.”

I mean … I’ve been staring at that quote for some time, trying to work out what precisely it is about it that has sent me to the brink of fatal apoplexy. On balance, I think it’s the chirpy high-handedness in the face of vast destruction. Like getting to the end of the second world war and writing the peace on a napkin: “Germans exiled to Madagascar; French have to live in the ruins of Germany for collaborating; Brits get France for second homes and wine supply. Bish-bosh. Sound OK to you?” On the one hand, I guess I’ll take it. On the other: IT’S A BIT MORE EFFING COMPLICATED THAN THAT.

As for the people who got us here, I must say I think of them increasingly often – those 81,000 Conservative party members who voted for Truss, and who are out there somewhere, right now, keeping their little heads down. But they walk among us. Maybe one of them is at a water cooler or a Zoom meeting near you.

It’s yet another of those situations where the right to electoral privacy has been prioritised over your right to scream, “What the hell have you done, you massive idiot? We’re all neck-deep in this crap because of you! Are you happy now? WELL, ARE YOU?”

The thought of things happening in the same way again, ever, is simply too much. Ideally, these triennially calamitous Conservative leadership contests will henceforth be run like one of those international elections in a fledgling democracy, when voters’ fingers are dipped in indelible ink. That way when you’re having drinks after work and Steve from HR is feebly going, “Yeah, what a mess” but not quite meeting your eye, you can look down at his stained forefinger and deal with him accordingly.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

February 11, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

Today the House impeachment managers wrapped their case against former president Donald Trump. Using the words of the insurgents themselves, the managers argued that he incited the insurrection of January 6, spurring an armed and violent mob to storm the Capitol while Congress was counting the certified electoral votes that awarded the 2020 presidential election to Democrat Joe Biden.

After yesterday’s dramatic illustrated timeline of the insurrection itself, the managers used their time today establishing that Trump was responsible for sparking that insurrection. They showed the insurrectionists repeating his words—one man read one of his tweets through a bullhorn at the Capitol riot—and insisting that they were acting according to the former president’s instructions.

The managers’ case was reinforced by the fact that the Department of Justice this morning filed a memorandum establishing that Jessica Watkins, a member of the right-wing Oath Keepers paramilitary group, delayed her planned assault on Washington, D.C., until she was certain Trump was behind it. “I am concerned this is an elaborate trap,” she texted on November 9, 2020. “Unless the POTUS himself activates us, it’s not legit. The POTUS has the right to activate units too. If Trump asks me to come, I will. Otherwise, I can’t trust it.”

Again and again, the managers tried to distinguish between Trump and his violent supporters, on the one hand, and the lawmakers of both parties who were their prey, on the other. Again and again, they focused on Trump as the perpetrator of the big lie that the election had been rigged and that he, not Biden, was the rightful victor.

They warned that Trump’s attack on our democracy is not over. Even after all that has happened, he has still not conceded that he lost the election. This refusal to abandon the big lie keeps it potent, enabling him to rally supporters with the argument that fighting for Trump means defending American democracy. It is a deadly inversion of reality.

The House impeachment managers have given Republican senators multiple ways to justify a vote for conviction to their constituents. They have shown how Trump began to incite violence even before the election, in plain sight, and how that led to an assault on the Capitol that came close to costing the lives of our elected officials, including Vice President Mike Pence—a Republican—and House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, the two people next in line for the presidency if Trump were to be removed from office.

The riot threatened the representatives and senators—including them!—their staffers, and many of their family members who were at the Capitol that day. And yet, even as lawmakers begged Trump to call the rioters off, he did the opposite. He attacked Pence in a tweet even as the vice president was being rushed to safety from the mob.

The managers focused, too, on the terrible toll the attack took on Capitol police. Three of them are now dead, with more than 100 wounded physically and others wounded mentally. Senators could vote to convict out of a determination to protect law enforcement officers, something their constituents say is important to them.

Today, the managers emphasized the many Republican lawmakers who condemned Trump in the wake of the insurrection, including the Cabinet members who resigned their posts, the state governors who called him out, and fellow lawmakers who expressed dismay at his incitement of the rioters.

Finally, the managers warned that, unless Trump is stopped, he will absolutely do such a thing again. They pointed out that the riot in Charlottesville, Virginia, after which the president condoned the white supremacists who killed Heather Heyer, was a rehearsal for the attack on the Michigan state house this summer. That, in turn, was a rehearsal for the attack on the Capitol. As manager Diana DeGette (D-CO) said: “In 2017, it was unfathomable to most of us to think that Charlottesville could happen, just as it was unfathomable to most of us that the Capitol could have been breached on January 6…. Frankly, what unfathomable horrors await us if we do not stand up now and say, no, this is not America.”

Senators were apparently shocked to see how close they came to falling into the hands of the rioters, and yet, although many Republican senators concede that the House managers mounted a compelling case, they continue to say that they do not believe they have the power to convict a former president. This suggests they are looking for an excuse, since the Senate’s vote on this question, which should be definitive, passed on Tuesday by a vote of 56-44. At one point today, at least 18 Republican senators were absent from their desks as the managers were making their case.

It’s unlikely that any of the senators want to acquit Trump because they want him to stay in the political scene. Some of them want his voters, but that itself cuts against wanting him to stay around: they want his voters to elect them, not to reelect him or elect his chosen successor. It’s likely they simply hoped he would fade away as he lost his social media presence and became occupied with the financial and legal troubles that are already piling up.

After all, bankers have distanced themselves from the former president, his businesses appear to be losing money, and a $100 million tax dispute with the IRS is now likely to come to a conclusion after being put on hold for four years. Yesterday, District Attorney Fani Willis, Fulton County, Georgia’s top prosecutor, announced that she is launching a wide-ranging criminal investigation into Trump’s January 2 phone call to Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger, a call that lawyers have suggested broke election laws.

But the Senate trial has shown that maybe he’s not going to fade away. The House impeachment managers have laid out a damning case. The scenes from the insurrection were shocking, and they established a pretty strong sense that Trump is deeply involved in an ongoing attempt to overturn our democracy. It looks possible that the Department of Justice might, in fact, go after the former president and perhaps others with the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations (RICO) Act.

After the past two days, senators who were planning to let Trump off the hook might be worrying they will have to answer to constituents furious that they didn’t do their jobs and instead associated the entire party with a criminal president and the rioters that attacked the Capitol. Already the editorial board of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch has lambasted Missouri Senators Josh Hawley and Roy Blunt: “There is no way to credibly argue that Trump protected and defended the Constitution when video evidence shows him directing a mob to storm the Capitol and interrupt constitutionally mandated proceedings to certify the Electoral College result.”

The senators need Trump’s lawyers to do a good enough job tomorrow to give them cover to acquit, and it seems likely those lawyers are not skilled enough to do so. Tonight, Senators Ted Cruz (R-TX), Mike Lee (R-UT), and Lindsey Graham (R-SC) visited Trump’s defense team. Cruz said they were “sharing our thoughts” about their legal strategy: it is of note that Cruz was the Solicitor General of Texas before being elected to the Senate, and Lee was an assistant U.S. Attorney for the District of Utah. Also a lawyer, Graham is the former chair of the Senate Judiciary Committee.

The Republican senators who will vote either to convict or acquit the former president must do so knowing that trials associated with the insurrection between now and the next election will keep the story in the news. The question is whether the American people will interpret the story as the impeachment team has framed it, or whether Trump’s lawyers and later Trump himself, if he regains a political foothold, can somehow knock that interpretation aside.

Lead impeachment manager Jamie Raskin (D-MD), who was a constitutional law professor before he went to Congress, seems to understand their dilemma. “Tyranny, like Hell, is not easily conquered,” he told the senators today, quoting political theorist Thomas Paine, “but we have this saving consolation: The more difficult the struggle, the more glorious ... our victory.”

He told them, “Good luck in your deliberations.”

—-

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[frontstreet1]

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

ATLANTA  — Former President Barack Obama used Rep. John Lewis’ funeral on Thursday to issue a stark warning that the voting rights and equal opportunity the late civil rights icon championed are threatened heading into the 2020 election.

Speaking from the pulpit of the church that Martin Luther King Jr. once led, Obama did not mention President Donald Trump. But the first Black president drew unmistakable contrasts with his successor, and he implicitly lambasted how Trump has handled voting procedures and ongoing civil unrest amid a national reckoning over systemic racism.

Obama called on Congress to renew the Voting Rights Act, which Trump and Republican congressional leaders have left unchanged since the Supreme Court diminished the landmark law in 2012.

“You want to honor John? Let’s honor him by revitalizing the law that he was willing to die for,” Obama said, arguing that the bipartisan praise for the Georgia congressman since his death isn’t enough.

Obama endorsed ending the Senate filibuster if that is what’s needed to pass an overhauled voting law. He called the procedural hurdle that effectively requires 60 votes to pass major legislation a “Jim Crow relic,” referring to the segregation era.

The Democratic-led House has adopted a sweeping rewrite of the Voting Rights Act, now named for Lewis. It faces opposition in the Republican-led Senate and likely couldn’t get 60 votes even if Democrats reclaim a narrow majority after the November elections.

Specifically, Obama called for all Americans being registered to vote automatically, restoring voting rights to felons who have completed their sentences, expanding early voting, ending partisan gerrymandering of districts and making Election Day a national holiday.

Obama noted that the original Voting Rights Act of 1965 and its renewals drew Republican and Democratic votes in Congress and were signed by presidents from both parties. Obama singled out former President George W. Bush, a Republican, who also spoke Thursday at Ebenezer Baptist Church near downtown Atlanta.

Still, Obama said, “There are those in power doing their darnedest to discourage people from voting by closing polling locations and targeting minorities and students with restrictive ID laws … even undermining the Postal Service in an election that’s going to be dependent on mail-in ballots.”

Hours before Lewis’ funeral, Trump suggested delaying the November election, something he doesn’t have the authority to do. Trump has falsely claimed that a surge of mail ballots because of the coronavirus pandemic will threaten the election’s legitimacy. Trump has opposed moves in Congress to help the financially struggling U.S. Postal Service handle the sharp uptick in mail voting.

Obama compared current national circumstances to the earlier civil rights era when Lewis helped lead the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee and became an understudy to King.

“Bull Connor may be gone, but today we witness with our own eyes police officers kneeling on the necks of Black Americans,” Obama said, alluding to the May 25 killing of George Floyd by a white Minneapolis police officer. “George Wallace may be gone, but we can witness our federal government sending agents to use tear gas and batons against peaceful demonstrators.”

Connor was the Birmingham, Alabama, police commissioner who ordered the use of police dogs and fire hoses against civil rights demonstrators. Wallace, the four-term governor of Lewis’ native Alabama, built his political career on a defense of segregation and overt appeals to white grievances, and it was his state highway patrol who beat Lewis and others as they marched for voting rights in 1965.

Trump, like Wallace in his multiple presidential bids, is campaigning as a “law and order” figure. The president frames protesters who have gathered across the country since Floyd’s killing as anarchists who threaten the nation’s stability, especially in suburbs, and he’s dispatched federal authorities to some cities over the objections of local authorities.

Lewis, who died July 17 at the age of 80, was one of the original Freedom Riders, activists who challenged segregation on commercial bus lines in the Deep South during the early 1960s. He was the youngest speaker at the 1963 March on Washington, where King delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech. Bloody Sunday and the voting rights marches occurred two years later, months before President Lyndon Johnson signing the Voting Rights Act.

Obama awarded Lewis the Medal of Freedom in 2011.

Trump was the only living president who played no official role in a week of public remembrances for Lewis. Besides Obama and Bush, former President Bill Clinton spoke Thursday at Ebenezer Baptist Church. Former President Jimmy Carter, who is 95, sent a statement read by the church’s senior pastor, the Rev. Raphael Warnock.

Lewis had called Trump an illegitimate president ahead of his 2017 inauguration and chided him for stoking racial divisions. Trump answered by calling Lewis “all talk, talk, talk (and) no action” and describing his Atlanta congressional district as “crime infested.”

Obama exalted Lewis as a “founding father” of a “better America.”

“Someday, when we do finish that long journey towards freedom, when we do form a more prefect union – whether it’s years from now or decades or even if it takes another two centuries,” he said, “John Lewis will be a founding father of that fuller, fairer, better America.”

By BILL BARROW – July 30. 2020 – 10:25 PM ET

At Lewis Funeral, Obama Calls For Renewing Voting Rights Act ATLANTA  — Former President Barack Obama used Rep. John Lewis’ funeral on Thursday to issue a stark warning that the voting rights and equal opportunity the late civil rights icon championed are threatened heading into the 2020 election.

[biblioklept]

An interview with Max Lawton about translating Vladimir Sorokin's masterpiece Blue Lard (and lots, lots more)

Max Lawton is the translator of many, many works, including a number of books by the Russian writer Vladimir Sorokin. The recent publication of two of those translations, Blue Lard and Red Pyramid was the occasion for my email-based interview with Max. We began in earnest late last fall and finished up on Leap Day, 2024. While Blue Lard was our starting place, we meandered, discussing future…

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Former Vice President Joe Biden is the presumptive Democratic nominee for president, but the 2020 primary season is only getting longer — because the public-health threat posed by the new coronavirus keeps delaying primary elections. A grand total of 17 presidential primaries have now been postponed on account of the pandemic.

Since our last dispatch on this topic, four more states have been added to the ranks: Pennsylvania, New York, West Virginia and New Jersey. In addition, five places that had already postponed their primaries rescheduled a second time: Ohio, Puerto Rico, Georgia, Louisiana and Connecticut. All these moves have left us with a presidential primary calendar that is extremely backloaded.

Since March 17 — the last big competitive primary day and the first that really ran up against the coronavirus scare — only three states have wrapped up their presidential primaries. By contrast, nine contests are now slated for June 2, which has become a sort of unexpected mini Super Tuesday. And five primaries are now taking place after June 9, which was originally the last day for states to hold their primaries without penalty.

Given the circumstances, it wouldn’t be surprising if the Democratic National Committee decides to go easy on them, but some of these primaries are really late. Connecticut’s, for example, is now scheduled for Aug. 11, which is just a week before the Democratic National Convention (which was itself rescheduled). And according to presidential primaries expert and FiveThirtyEight contributor Josh Putnam, that would be the latest contest ever in the modern era of presidential primaries.

On the one hand, it’s fair to wonder whether these elections even need to still happen. Sen. Bernie Sanders has suspended his campaign, and Biden is for all intents and purposes the Democratic nominee. But one reason the primaries are still needed is delegates — Biden technically isn’t the nominee until a majority of delegates vote to make him one at the Democratic convention, and primaries decide who those delegates will be. That said, some states, such as Connecticut and New York, do allow presidential primaries to be canceled if there is only one candidate on the ballot. According to Putnam, if everyone except Biden withdraws from those primaries, he would simply get all their delegates. However, the actual elections would still have to go on because …

Another reason is that the presidential race isn’t the only thing on many states’ primary ballots. Indeed, the coronavirus has also forced 15 states to postpone their down-ballot primary or runoff elections as well, many of which were happening the same day as the presidential primary. The most recent states to do so are Virginia, Maine and Idaho, plus four states that hold their presidential and down-ballot primaries concurrently (Pennsylvania, West Virginia, New Jersey and Georgia).

As for the primaries that are still happening in the next several weeks, most are taking a different form. In general, states are moving away from in-person voting and embracing mail voting, but the coronavirus has revealed just how many versions of a “predominantly mail election” there can be. For example, the Maryland and Montana primaries on June 2 have switched to vote-by-mail elections in the “traditional” sense — i.e., all registered voters will be mailed a ballot, but in-person voting options will still be available for those who need them. Reportedly, New York plans to do the same, but so far the only change made to its June 23 primary is that voters can use the coronavirus as an excuse to request an absentee ballot. Meanwhile, in Kansas’s presidential primary and Utah’s down-ballot primary, voters were already being mailed a ballot by default, but normal polling places will now be closed.

At least 11 other jurisdictions are stopping short of mailing voters a ballot, but are mailing them an absentee-ballot application. Of these, Idaho is not offering any in-person voting options, and many counties in North Dakota are closing in-person voting sites as well. The District of Columbia and Rhode Island aren’t eliminating in-person voting, but they are consolidating voting sites, and at least some counties in Iowa will also have reduced polling places. Connecticut, Georgia, Nebraska, New Mexico, South Dakota and West Virginia are — at least for now — slated to operate polling places as usual.

Perhaps the most novel setup is in Ohio, the very next primary on the calendar (voting there ends on Tuesday). The election will be conducted almost entirely by mail, but the state isn’t doing much to assist voters — all they will receive is a postcard with instructions on how to request an absentee ballot. Nor will most voters have the option to vote in person; only voters with disabilities or without mailing addresses will be allowed at a voting center on April 28. No other state has done so little to help voters get their hands on a ballot, so it will be interesting to see what turnout is like in Ohio compared with other states conducting elections under the same conditions.

[rocketwerks]

Weisiger & Tiffany

3 Governor Street

Built, between 1865-1877

Demolished, 1989?

[IOR]

Call the police! We’ve been robbed!

[IOR] — Captain Oscar Fitzallen Weisiger

Wholesale Clothiers. Forty years ago this house was founded by the late O. F. Weisiger, since which period the firm name has changed several times. In 1886 the firm of O. F. Weisiger & Co., has dissolved by the death of the senior partner.

(Library of Congress) — Sanborn Fire Insurance Map from Richmond (1886) — Plate 15 — showing Whol(sale) Clo(thiers)

Messrs. W. H. Weisiger, son of the founder, and D. O. Tiffany, the surviving partners, then formed a co-partnership under the firm name of Weisiger & Tiffany. Mr. Weisiger was born and raised here, has always been in this line, and manages the business in this city, Mr. Tiffany attending to the manufacturing.

They employ seven commercial salesmen, and sell goods to the trade throughout the Yireinias, Carolinas, Tennessee and Georgia. [IOR]

(Alamy) — 19th-century engraving of a burglar escaping down a ladder after breaking into a home

They also had the misfortune of being Richmond Dispatch front-page news in June 1886 for a robbery of the store.

A colored woman named Sarah Butcher was before the Police Court yesterday morning, charged with unlawfully and feloniously breaking and entering in the night-time the store of Weisiger & Tiffany, successors to O. F. Weisiger & Co., with intent to commit larceny, and stealing therefrom clothing of the value of $75. 

A private watchman is employed by this firm, but he was taken suddenly sick about 9 o’clock Sunday night, and went home after getting another watchman who stays in that neighborhood to promise to keep a lookout for him during his absence. It is supposed that the house was broken into soon after this time and was open from then until morning. [RDIS]

(City of Richmond) — Chief John Poe, Jr. — Richmond’s first police chief

Broken glass and a ladder found in Tobacco Alley and pointed to a second-story job. The crime scene was surveyed personally by Chief of Police John Poe, Jr., who turned the case over to a Sergeant Hall, once the financial contents of the two iron safes were determined to be untouched. The Sergeant was not long in apprehending Ms. Butcher, and was soon in hot in pursuit of D. Delerue, Bill Coleman, and Moses Bowles, “suspected of being connected with the robbery.” [RDIS]

[MCR]-(Library of Congress) — composite image of the Centennial Map of the City of Richmond & the Beers Illustrated Atlas of Richmond, Plate L — showing the comparative locations of 3 Governor Street in 1865 & 1877.

Number 3 Governor Street was located at the edge of the Burnt District of 1865, so whatever stood there before April of that year was another casualty of the Evacuation Fire, Richmond’s favorite cautionary tale about intentional arson. What would become the Weisiger & Tiffany Building was built in the flurry of construction that followed the end of the Civil War.

April 2020 — looking towards the former Weisiger & Tiffany Building location at center-left

Today, the entire block between Main, Bank, Governor, and Fourteenth Streets is dominated by the Commonwealth’s own John Tyler Building, constructed between 1989-1991.

(Weisiger & Tiffany is part of the Atlas RVA! Project)

Print Sources

[IOR] Industries of Richmond. James P. Wood. 1886.

[MCR] Map of the City of Richmond, Virginia, 1861-65. Richmond Civil War Centennial Committee. 1961.

[RDIS] Richmond Dispatch. Saturday, June 19, 1886.

[todaysdocument]

Today we honor the life and service of George H. W. Bush

President George H. W. Bush stands on the edge of the flight deck aboard the guided missile cruiser USS BELKNAP (CG-26), 12/1/1989. Series: Combined Military Service Digital Photographic Files, 1982 - 2007. Record Group 330: Records of the Office of the Secretary of Defense, 1921 - 2008.

Born on June 12, 1924, in Milton, Mass., George Bush became a decorated naval pilot who flew torpedo bombers during World War II. He was shot down on September 2, 1944 while completing a mission over Chi Chi Jima Island and, tragically, lost his two crewmen William “Ted” White and John Delaney. By the time he was honorably discharged in September of 1945, Lieutenant Junior Grade Bush had logged 1,228 hours of flight time, 126 carrier landings and 58 combat missions. He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, and the U.S. Navy Air Medal with two gold stars. Mr. Bush graduated Phi Beta Kappa from Yale University in 1948 with a degree in economics, and immediately moved to Texas with his wife Barbara and eldest son George W. to begin making his way in the oil business. 

President Bush's career in politics and public service began in February of 1963, when he was elected chairman of the Harris County (Texas) Republican Party. He was elected in 1966 to the U.S. House of Representatives from Texas' Seventh District and served two terms. Before serving as vice president from 1981 to 1989 under Ronald Reagan, President Bush held a number of senior-level positions: Ambassador to the United Nations (1971-1973); Chairman of the Republican National Committee (1973-1974); Chief of the U.S. Liaison Office in China (1974-1976); and Director of Central Intelligence (1976-1977). 

In 1980, Mr. Bush lost his first bid for the Republican presidential nomination to former California Governor Ronald Reagan, but accepted a spot on the GOP national ticket and served as the 43rd Vice President of the United States from 1981 to 1989. In that position, Mr. Bush managed federal deregulation and anti-drug efforts, and headed the Reagan administrations’ effort to combat terrorism. In foreign policy, President Reagan dispatched Vice President Bush at a pivotal and contentious time to help manage negotiations with key NATO allies leading to the deployment of Pershing II missiles in West Germany – a critical turning point in the Cold War. 

Sworn in as the 41st President of the United States on January 20, 1989, George Herbert Walker Bush helped usher in a new and more hopeful geopolitical era marked by the spread of freedom and free markets. During his historic term in office, the West prevailed in the Cold War; the Soviet Union gave way to a democratic Russia; the Berlin Wall “fell” and Germany was unified within NATO; and President Bush signed two treaties to drastically reduce the threat of nuclear war. After Iraq’s unprovoked invasion of Kuwait in 1990, Mr. Bush forged an unprecedented coalition of disparate nations to uphold international law. His deft handling of this international crisis enabled him to convene the Madrid Peace Conference later in 1991. Throughout his presidency, George Bush worked closely with his international counterparts, including Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev, in ways that advanced America’s interests in peace and economic opportunity.

via the George H. W. Bush Presidential Library and Museum

[12blogmk]

UP heatwave: 11 more patients die at Ballia district hospital, toll mounts to 68 | Lucknow News

BALLIA: Eleven more patients admitted to the Ballia district hospital in Uttar Pradesh succumbed to various ailments, raising the toll to 68 over the course of five days.In response to the situation, a committee from the health department was dispatched from Lucknow to investigate the cause of these deaths.Throughout Monday, the committee surveyed different areas of the district. It is worth…

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You have 30 days from merchandise delivery to dispatch this item back to the vendor. The Orillia District Chamber of Commerce organizes the Santa Claus parade with support from its members, parade committee volunteers, and sponsors. This year’s main sponsors are Arnott Construction, Ron Johnston Insurance, Burton Team of Investment Planning Counsel and Pizza Nova. A full list of sponsors could be discovered at /santa-claus-parade. Canada Post might be amassing letters for Santa along the parade route.

[zhongfeitongrenewableresources]

15 waste recycling companies were closed in Guangzhou China

Recently, the Dinghu District Government of Zhaoqing City organized urban management, environmental protection, planning, national land, and Hangkou Street to carry out joint action enforcement actions, and carried out rectification and demolition of “scattering and pollution” enterprises and places in and around the Suyuan Yuanwan Furniture Factory in Hangkou Street.

On the same day, 15 industrial enterprises with scattered and scattered pollution were dismantled according to law, covering an area of more than 50 mu and a total area of more than 15,000 suqare meters.

In just one day, Dinghu’s 15 “scattering and staining” enterprise buildings totaled more than 15,000 square meters and were razed to the ground! A number of excavators were dispatched at the scene to dismantle the plant!

It is understood that these "disorganized pollution" enterprises first started to build factories and operate illegally in the 1990s.

Most of these enterprises are engaged in waste production and management activities such as waste purchase, waste plastic processing, and scrap metal processing. A large amount of sewage and exhaust gas is directly discharged, which poses a great threat to the life and health of surrounding people and seriously affects the air quality of Duanzhou and Dinghu City.

The villagers have been complaining about this for a long time. They repeatedly complained to the government departments and the central environmental protection inspection team, and strongly urged that the "disorganized and dirty" enterprises should be thoroughly rectified according to law.

All along, the Dinghu District Party Committee and the district government have attached great importance to the environmental governance of the village, and have organized many special rectifications and upgrades. However, the willingness to transform enterprises is low, and the results are not obvious.

Prior to this special action, the district government held special meetings to deploy “disintegration” and patience and meticulously carried out propaganda and education on policies and regulations to business owners, village committees and the masses, and worked hard to do ideological work and successfully strive for all the people of Su village. Support for support.

At the same time, we will adhere to the combination of unblocking and blocking, support the transformation and upgrading of qualified enterprises into the development of the park, actively help enterprises to relocate equipment, find temporary storage places, and find new compliance factories, which will be understood by most business owners. 

Because the work beforehand was in place, the special action was understood by most business owners, and the demolition actions were completed in an orderly manner. There was no excessive behavior that hindered the construction during the period.

According to statistics, in the Dinghu District alone in 2018, more than 70 enterprises have been shut down or dismantled, and a number of environmental problems affecting the lives of ordinary people have been resolved, and they have received support from the masses.