The one she found most interesting, and most informative as
well, was the Wedge Defense Force museum, which was located on the
campus of the WDF Academy, and which she visited on Thursday afternoon.
Korra had only a passing interest in military technology or history in
themselves, but since the WDF had shaped much of Zetan culture, and it
was Zetan culture and its attitude toward the present galaxy she was
mainly interested in, it was still a valuable experience.
        In the end, though, the thing she came away thinking the most
about wasn't in the museum itself, but in the rotunda of the Academy's
administration building, where she'd found herself at the end of the
museum's self-guided audio tour.  Among the various artworks and whatnot
on display here, there was a large bronze plaque affixed to the wall.
Upon entering the room, Korra had taken it for the usual kind of thing
one found in buildings like this, with the date of the dedication
ceremony and a list of the people who had funded its construction or the
like; but that didn't account for the little crowd of uniformed cadets
standing there regarding it with deeply thoughtful expressions.
        Intrigued, she joined them, working her way to the front as
those ahead of her got their fill of contemplating the plaque and
drifted away.  She noticed that, as each cadet took his, her, or its
leave, they all reached and touched the lower left corner; already, in
the seven years this version of the Academy had been open, this had been
done enough that the spot was worn shiny and smooth.
        Embossed on the plaque in large, authoritative letters were four
sentences and an attribution:
    We do not fight because we hate, nor because we wish to control.
                 We do not kill for killing's own sake.
   We fight because we love - love life, love freedom, love decency.
We kill so that others may live, free from oppression, terror, and pain.
                - Miria Fallyna Sterling, Class of 2001
        Korra got out her little notebook and wrote down the message,
then put it away and stood regarding the plaque for several minutes.  At
length, she went away to think it over in solitude, if such a word could
be applied to anyone at large in a city like this one.  Solitude within
her own mind, anyway, as she moved alone among shoals of strangers,
brushing gently against the ebb and flow of New Avalon's pleasantly
unfamiliar energies.
        She went back downtown and just walked around for a while as
afternoon slid toward evening, mulling the words over in her mind.
Later, while waiting for her dinner in a corner booth of a restaurant
near her hotel called the Star of Kumbaria, she found herself jotting
them repeatedly on another page of her notebook.  By the time she
noticed consciously that she was doing it, she'd translated the message
into Tukisi, then Tongyu, condensing the text slightly and drawing the
characters meticulously in different arrangements, as if designing a
tattoo.
        She supposed, as her soup arrived and she put the notebook away,
that that was fitting.  In 120 years of living, Korra had never felt
sufficiently motivated to get any ink done, but if she ever did, it'd
have to be something as meaningful as that, and the words of Miria
Sterling - whoever she had been - resonated with her more strongly than
anything else she had encountered in this city so far.  In fact, the
more she thought about it as she ate her supper, the more she decided
that if she had to summarize her own personal code in a few sentences,
she wouldn't be able to do any better than that.
        That was promising, if it was meant sincerely, and so far she
had the distinct impression that it was.  Promising enough that she
could feel good about devoting the time and energy required to
investigate further.

--G.
-><-
Benjamin D. Hutchins, Co-Founder, Editor-in-Chief, & Forum Mod
Eyrie Productions, Unlimited http://www.eyrie-productions.com/
zgryphon at that email service Google has
Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam.

How about a joke?

        They entered the house to find a very beautiful, very pregnant
redhead in the front room, putting on shoes.  She looked up at their
entrance and blinked in faint surprise.
        "I told you, Kate's with Marty and Eiko," she told Gryphon.
"Why aren't you on your way to Tomodachi?  I've got everything under
control here."  Then, straightening up, she picked up a small white
duffel bag marked with the 3WA logo from the floor by the couch.  "Got
my ready bag and everything."  She noticed Korra then, standing a trifle
hesitantly in the doorway behind Gryphon, and - slightly to her
surprise, under the circumstances - gave her a welcoming grin.
        "Oh, hi," she said.  "Kei Morgan.  I don't think I've seen you
before.  Are you Ben's new AA?"
        "Uh, no," said Korra, slightly nonplussed by her cheerful
welcome.  "My name's Korra.  I'm, uh, consulting with Chief Hutchins on
a matter - "
        Kei laughed merrily and smacked Gryphon's arm.  "You didn't
waste any time!" she said.
        "Uh, no, she's serious," he replied, rubbing the arm.  "She's
looking into one of the side effects of the Ragnarok.  And we've only
just met, so behave," he added mildly.
        Korra, who was fairly sure at this point that she was sporting
the kind of flaming blush that was obvious even through her dark skin,
stammered out some sort of denial as well, but Kei was already past that
point.
        "Well, by a strange coincidence, you are currently beholding
-another- side effect of the Ragnarok," the redhead said with a wicked
grin.  "And I am off to Boyce Memorial to get it seen to."

--G.
-><-
Benjamin D. Hutchins, Co-Founder, Editor-in-Chief, & Forum Mod
Eyrie Productions, Unlimited http://www.eyrie-productions.com/
zgryphon at that email service Google has
Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam.

>        She supposed, as her soup arrived and she put the notebook away, 
>that that was fitting.  In 120 years of living, Korra had never felt 
>sufficiently motivated to get any ink done, but if she ever did, it'd 
>have to be something as meaningful as that, and the words of Miria 
>Sterling - whoever she had been - resonated with her more strongly than 
>anything else she had encountered in this city so far.  In fact, the 
>more she thought about it as she ate her supper, the more she decided 
>that if she had to summarize her own personal code in a few sentences, 
>she wouldn't be able to do any better than that. 

	Jeanne Hedge http://www.jhedge.com
"Never give up, never surrender!"

        After the game, as she was making her way out of the park (and
marveling at the evidently undampened good cheer of the team's fanbase),
she noticed the uniformed police officers standing here and there around
the place - near the turnstiles and doorways, mostly.  They didn't seem
to be -doing- much of anything, just kind of standing around showing the
flag.  As Korra stood by one of the pretzel stands on the concourse
behind the main grandstand and watched, a couple of them interacted with
members of the public, providing directions and the like, always with a
sort of casual goodwill that went well with the overall vibe of the city
as she had so far experienced it.
        While she watched, she considered the equivalent of this scene
back home.  Republic City cops, as a general rule, were no longer so
naturally disposed to dabble in jackbooted thuggery as they had once
been, but in Korra's experience, they did not smile at members of the
public.  Particularly not in a crowd control scenario, like letting-out
time at Shiro Shinobi Arena.
        Picture Lin Beifong ruffling some kid's hair and making sure he
doesn't lose his foam WE'RE #1! hand, she thought, and the mental image
made her giggle as she made to leave the ballpark herself, now that the
crowd at the exit had thinned a bit.  As she turned, she saw another
uniformed figure at the end of the row of turnstiles.  At the sight of
this one, she pulled up short, blinking in momentary disbelief, then
walked slowly over for a closer look.  Standing next to the big one-way
revolving gate through which a lot of people were leaving, there was...
a bear.
        A -polar- bear, white-furred and massive, a good six feet tall
at the shoulder, dressed in what was essentially the regular New Avalon
police uniform as adapted for a bear.  He even, Korra noticed, had a
necktie and a badge.  He was -all- bear, a configuration as mythical in
Diqiu as the more familiar polar bear dogs of her homeworld were out
here, but familiar enough to bring an automatic grin to Korra's face as
she approached him.  Knights fans filed past him and through the gate;
some, particularly the children, took notice of him, but no one seemed
to think it was at all -strange- that a polar bear in a police uniform
was standing next to the exit, watching them leave.
        Presently the bear appeared to notice that he was being
scrutinized more closely than usual.  Turning his attention from the
passing sports fans, he regarded Korra with an expression that almost
seemed to say, "Yes?"
        "Wow," said Korra aloud.  "They use -bears- for policing here?"
She grinned.  "There might be more going on in this town than I
thought."  Then, looking thoughtfully around, she mused, "Where's your
handler got off to, big guy?"
        The bear arched a brow ridge and replied, "I beg your pardon?"
        Korra stared at him, her eyes going wide; she resisted an urge
to rub them theatrically and said, "Did you say something?"
        "Yeeeees?" the bear replied, becoming still more quizzical.  He
had a voice that went with the rest of him, deep and rich, fully
appropriate to have emanated from such a massive chest.
        "You can -talk,-" said Korra.
        "Of course I can talk, I'm Minister for Overseas Development,"
the bear deadpanned.

--G.
-><-
Benjamin D. Hutchins, Co-Founder, Editor-in-Chief, & Forum Mod
Eyrie Productions, Unlimited http://www.eyrie-productions.com/
zgryphon at that email service Google has
Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam.