By the time the intricately carved grandfather clock mounted behind the dais struck one, formally dressed guests from every corner of the local region -- and some from beyond -- had filled the seats in the gallery. Visitors lined the balconies along the second and third tiers up from the floor, where the Terran National Government's incoming and outgoing politicians mingled amongst themselves, waiting for the proceedings to began. Their voices resounded throughout the chamber, bouncing from the high dome to create an inescapable hum that only the clock tolling threatened to break. With the low, deep tone of the clock's bell chimes, sounding over and perhaps through the din, the enormous ceremonial wooden doors on either side of the dais opened. Much of the audience instinctively hushed, their faces turning toward the dais.
From one side emerged Luis Galdámez, an aging man with silver hair and more lines in his face than when he had assumed office as the TNG's Prime Minister, reluctantly, for a second time, after the death of his friend and colleague, Ed Cranford, at the hands of terrorists. Their brutal attack had left this building devastated, but, perhaps in testament to Terran resilience, within less than nine months, Government Center had been fully restored. Galdámez had heard that the builders had started with this room. Parliament's Chambers symbolized the democracy at the heart of the TNG constitution. Galdámez wore a simple black suit that he'd bought at a department store a few decades ago before teaching his first class to eager, nervous law students starting their first semester.
On the other side of the dais, the door gave way to a human woman with dark brown hair tied back in a severe cut, her honey-colored eyes gleaming as she nodded, briefly, to Galdámez. This was High Justice Rana Khawaldeh, the senior-most justice of the TNG's Supreme Court. Khawaldeh stood at about the same height as her counterpart, though she was significantly fatter and slightly older. She was dressed in matching black, though Khawaldeh's attire consisted of her long, flowing black robe. Along with Galdámez, she would be conducting the inauguration ceremony. He would pass from one side of the dais to the other to mark the end of his term. Khawaldeh, in contrast, was the symbol of continuity and stability. The two met in the center of the dais and stood in front of the two center-most chairs. They were all the same high-backed chairs upholstered in dark blue satin fabric with intricate embroidery depicting the TNG seal. Galdámez shared Khawaldeh's opinion of the furnishings -- they were much too opulent for his taste. He supposed that the decorative furnishings were another symbol of their national pride.
"Good afternoon, Luis," Khawaldeh said in a subdued tone meant to keep the reporters crowding their designated section on the floor from overhearing. She clasped both hands around the outgoing prime minister's extended hand, offering a smile.
"How are you doing?" asked Galdámez, inclining his head.
"I'm doing wonderfully, just wonderfully." Khawaldeh released Galdámez's hand and nodded to the newly elected members taking their seats. "I hope you've prepared."
"Of course." Galdámez cocked a grin. "Don't I always?" In response, Khawaldeh shook her head. Galdámez stepped to the podium, waiting for complete silence before he would begin his opening speech.
Members-elect were ushered to their seats in the first three rows of members seating, where the plaques with the names of outgoing members would be replaced by the next morning with the new names. Behind Galdámez and Khawaldeh, the few members of the administration instructed to attend silently entered through the same ceremonial doors, the wood-inscribed TNG seal giving way for the wounded national hero, Lelantus Haima, who entered beside a smiling Jamal Morrison Lebrun, the National Police Agency director whose power-chair shined with fresh polish as he wheeled up the ramp to the dais. On the other side of the dais, Terran Armed Forces Grand Admiral Fātiḥ Sayılgan escorted the intelligence director, Arianne Drulović, onto the raised platform. While Sayılgan maintained a professional, muted smile, Drulović appeared positively severe in her expression.
"Frankly," she said in a low voice, "I don't understand why I need to be here. I think it was enough that I came for the first inauguration under Mr. Cranford, and the second one, too, under Mr. Galdámez, wouldn't you think? This simply seems too much. You know I have no particular fondness for politics."
"It's a show. You gotta play to the show." Sayılgan shrugged, offering the older woman a hand to the first step. "You and Lebrun, well, let's just say, a lot of people would notice if you didn't make an appearance."
Once it seemed that everyone had taken their seats and fallen into the silence of anticipation, Galdámez laid his hands on the podium. "Welcome. High Justice Khawaldeh, Ms. Vaeros, members of Parliament, our friends, our distinguished guests, welcome. Each time we gather to celebrate the inauguration of a new Parliament, we recognize the enduring history of our young nation. In only a few short decades, our young nation has continued to grow and prosper. Despite innumerable setbacks, occupation, war, and turmoil at home, our constitution has endured. We affirm our national commitment to liberty, to prosperity, and to unity."
As the prime minister spoke, Drulović let her eyes slide to the clock mounted in the back of the room, placed conveniently so that those on the dais could keep track of the time without turning backward and upward to look at the ceremonial clock above them. She adjusted the lapels of her jacket, estimating that Galdámez would speak for a solid fifteen minutes.
In the end, it turned out that Drulović was wrong. He finished at twelve minutes and forty seconds.
"And with that, I would like to ask our High Justice, Rana Khawaldeh, to commence the proceedings." Galdámez turned away from the podium, stepping back to allow Khawaldeh to assume her role over the ceremony. Khawaldeh looked toward Rhea Vaeros for the newly elected prime minister to mount the dais alongside the High Justice. The prime minister would be sworn in first, to be followed by the members of Parliament collectively. Khawaldeh had been pleasantly surprised that many incumbents had been voted out of office or decided not to run for reelection altogether, though she noted with her glance that there were faces she recognized among the members waiting to be sworn in. Those were the incumbents. As Drulović would have put it, Khawaldeh surmised that there would always be some pollution among any political body. She stifled a smile at that as Rhea approached.
