The Rebel Faction

This had to be the worst job she had ever worked.

Jaeriel Skynia had worked crappy jobs before. She'd hunted gizka, she'd skinned Bantha. Heck, she'd even had some of the more illegal and/or lude jobs while she was still on Telos. But dealing with the slime she had to deal with now was almost too much.

The passenger liner she was currently on probably had the lowest fare of any other in the galaxy. This didn't mean that they could afford it, though; the liner was about to fall apart at any moment. It did mean that only those who couldn't afford any better took the liner. Now, Jaeriel didn't have anything against poor people. But would it hurt some of them to take a bath every once in a while?

Then there were those that sat in the darkest corners. They were running from something, or possibly hunting those that were running. The difference could usually be seen by the quality of clothing and equipment each had. And it was Jaeriel's job to make sure no altercations happened on the liner itself.

That was the job of head of security on this crappy ship that could barely be called a liner. Pay was pretty bad, too. Barely subsistence. Of course, that's what you get when you resign from the Onyxian Commonwealth military because you don't like the way they do things.

Come to think of it, she should have been a hero. She was one of the few Onyxians that had bailed before the Empire had come crashing down with all its weight on her home, before Regrad had officially declared the Commonwealth rouge. She had escaped the retribution of the Empire, but had also been disowned privately by the Coalition.

Of course, that didn't mean she had escaped everyone's notice. Her name was still on the roster of those ships that had attacked Bilbringi. Somehow, the family of one of those killed had gotten ahold of her name and put a bounty on her head; hence the current job. She couldn't stay on Generis, her home planet. People knew she lived there; besides, it had been the first world to fall to the Imperial onslaught.

She also couldn't return to Telos. She had forsaken that planet years before. There was nothing for her there. Besides, that was the second place a hunter would look.

So she decided to hide in the open. Changing her name and getting some friends to forge documents for her, Jaeriel got work on the passenger line from the Wheel to Thyferra. Her unique skills got her quickly promoted to head of security. And so she found herself here. On this ship.

Recently, the ship had received a distress call from Mon Calamari. Apparently the Coalition was evacuating the planet as a result of the Black Dragon War. So the ship was dropping off its last load of passengers and heading out to Mon Calamari in hopes of picking up refugees and transporting them to their new homes.

Jaeriel was ticked. Not that she didn't want to help the survivors on Mon Calamari - she did. But she knew that her employers were not going to pay for this little side trip, and she couldn't afford to take any time off. Still, it had always been her belief that some force or power controlled the universe and worked all things out for good for those that did good, so perhaps it would work out to her benefit. Somehow.

Tyscio pursed his lips listening to the ranting of his wife as he put out several bags of chips. Deep fat fried and probably fat fried again just for good measure. One thing he knew (well that any man should know) was not to joke about his wife's weight, especially if she was pregnant so he stifled his concern over the pain in his neck as she wrapped her arms around him.

Not that she was showing much but her moods tended to exaggerate her actions whether they be conversing or just plain hanging on his neck.

Pregnant wives tended to roam the home in cranky moods, like a nerf-eaters foaming at the mouth, looking for any slight with which to pounce upon and he was determined not to give any cause of slight.

As she went on, the Caprician wondered if it was a good idea to have put in the new holonet system seeing her agitated so because there was that old formulation that remained true: If momma's not happy, nobody is happy. And Tyscio really wanted to maintain being happy.


How many channels had she been watching? he thought, eyes glancing over at the sophisticated control panel and his eyes widened, Simultaneously?


He was going to open his mouth in the Coalition's defense but thought better of it. Besides, they did blunder with their Bilbringi attack as the Western Fleet was what the GC should have been counting on to reinforce the battered Eastern Fleet that had fought the Dragons to a standstill.

Now, without the cover of that Western Fleet, Dragon aggression was expected and so the Eastern Forces realized they had too much terroritory with too few forces to protect. So the word for the moment was: "consolidation" and getting the civies out of harms way. But try telling that to civies who expect their cake and to eat it as well was difficult to say the least.


"The Coalition and the Dragons are in a state of war so to come to the aid of one officially is to weaken any and all agreements we may have with the other.

Still, the Dragons may yet remain on their side of the border they themselves set. If they do not and take worlds outside their sphere, it would make any treaty, agreement or understanding they may have with us, quote possibly the Empire and any other factions they have such agreements with.

That being said," he began to offer seeing her squeeze the bag of chips out of frustration, "various charitable, nonprofit as well as private enterprises are sending freighters to these worlds to help the infirm, sick and/or elderly. This, of course, depends on whether or not the Coalition citizens want the help to begin with. They may simply and stubbornly refuse the order to retreat from their homes and make some sort of stand, however ill conceived."


Tyscio spread his hands. "And if they do that, there isn't alot we can do about it. We agree that people have the right to make choices but at some point, their personal choice may conflict with a government's ability to carry out it's duty to protect, govern and serve."


Leia through him a glare not liking what he said and to be honest, while he agreed with the opinion up to a point, he didn't much like it either.


There had to be other options?


"There are several new Commonwealth Medical Cruisers being launched tomorrow. I know there was talk of humanitarian aid being sent to the war victims on both sides.."


His mind tried to capture the names... Apollion, Charion, and the Vigil.

“To give ground to evil, to compromise with the very intolerant and subjugative enemies we have sworn our very lives to defeat; these actions are intolerable. With every breath we take, relaxed in the comfort of our own homes or labored and strained from the countless wounds of battle, we must unconditionally fight them. Fight, until we cannot. And then, we must triumph, or die…”


Direct line, the Wheel to Thyferra.

The passenger liner had seen better days, that was for sure. For how many years had its crew ran this same route? How many souls had they ferried back and forth between the space station and the temperate world? Perhaps one day, maybe even not so long ago, the liner’s crew had enjoyed the company of the rich or the well off. Not anymore.

Huddled together in small groups the most wretched looking, ragged assortment of species he had ever laid eyes upon sat or stood and waited for their journey to end so that they could finally get on with their bleak lives. To the galaxy at large, they were outcasts. By no means a minority, but somehow still a radical deviant from some nonexistent “norm” that the upper class had conjured up in order to feel better about themselves.

The sad part was, in this dark age, that most of these poverty stricken beings’ only fault was to have been born as a species that looked a little too different from the commonly accepted humanoid complexion. They were a little too large or a little too small, had too many limbs or too little, or appendages that “didn’t belong”, and because of this they were cast out into dregs of society.

There were not many on board the liner. No outcast in their right mind would make the decision to actually travel to an Imperial world, unless misfortune had left them with no alternative. And so these poor beings were the most wretched of the wretched. They were headed toward a future of nothing but the same, with no hope for improvement.

All except one.

He was young, human, of Corellian descent. His age was impossible to judge completely accurately, but he couldn’t have been out of his teenage years. He wore the same ragged looking clothes as the rest, was covered in dirt and muck just like the rest, and even wore the same grimly determined expression that says ‘I don’t have much to live for but hell if I’m giving up,’ as the rest. But there was just something about him that was different.

Something about him just drew company, and so the largest group of poor was huddled around him. Something about him begged discussion, and not just casual conversation but deep, meaningful discussion. And when it became obvious that he was not very talkative, that same thing begged discussion around him regardless.

And so, all around this boy, no older than nineteen, outcasts of society discussed everything from history to politics to love ones gained and lost. The young man bore an expression that betrayed just how used to it he was, and so he offered a few words of agreement, elaboration, or advice whenever conversation was directed cautiously his way.

In his lap was a battered looking data pad, and in between moments of contribution to the discussion he typed away with a look of harsh concentration upon his face. Whenever asked of it, he would always refuse an explanation. So things went on every liner he rode, and he had ridden many in his short lifespan. On every liner he would be asked his names, and never would he give it.

His name was Ajay Atlom, and he was a sort of legend.

In the blackness of space he was known as the Mahatna, which was some alien word for ‘Travelling Sage’. The legend had been built up over years of passenger liner rides such as this, and after every journey all those who spoke with or, more often than not, just around him, half-suspected him to be the Mahatna, though no one never asked. Partially out of skepticism at the Mahatna being so young, and partially out of fear for what would happen if he was. But, though many of them suspected him to be the Mahatna, no one on any liner had ever suspected him of also being the Red Man, for that was a legend born on the surface of planets.

Wherever the Red Man went, revolution followed. Wherever the Red Man went, the people rose up. Wherever the Red Man went, liberty was born. And the Red Man was on his way to Thyferra. But unbeknownst to the Red Man, Thyferra would have to wait for a little while longer.

“Attention, passengers,” a robotic sounding voice blared harshly from a speaker somewhere, “We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but there will be a slight delay in reaching our destination of Thyferra.

As many of you know, the planet of Mon Calamari has recently begun evacuation procedures in lieu recent Coalition losses of territory in their war against the Black Dragon Empire, the planet of Mon Calamari is currently in the process of a full evacuation.

We will be diverting from our normal course in order to take on refugees from Mon Calamari and will be dropping them off at the nearest Coalition planet.

We apologize for the inconvenience, and assure you that there is no danger, as the Black Dragon Empire is not yet anywhere near Mon Calamari space. We hope you understand, and you have our personal assurance that the delay will not be long.”

In the other groups surrounding them, dismayed cries of alarm, grumbles of anger, and grunts of indifference resounded throughout the liner. But in the group surrounding Ajay Atlom, there was silence. All eyes turned at once to gauge his reaction, breath held and mouths agape. For a while, he showed no signs that he had even heard the message, head down and fingers furiously typing away at the battered data pad.

Finally, however, he glanced up at the outcasts around him and gave a nod and a grim smile of approval. All at once, conversation sprung up around him praising the liner for their promise of aid in such a tremendous humanitarian crisis. Several side discussions sprung up over the ongoing war, and the young man nodded and smiled when it was expected and offered small bits of his own opinion when it was required.

Ajay Atlom could wait to reach Thyferra. He had been to Mon Calamari before, and knew the native species well. Though the Coalition might consider the loss of Mon Calamari an acceptable loss, Ajay knew that there would be many Mon Calamari who wouldn’t. Many would stay, and many would resist. So Ajay could wait; he even welcomed the change of course.

For the Red Man, was there any place better?

(Taken from The Way of the Jedi)


The Jedi Master stood on the grassy plain, leaning heavily on his ever-present walking stick...


"doit doit doit..."


He shook his head imperceptibly, trying for the thousandth time to ignore the strange voices that crowded his head, willing him to do something that he knew he should not do...

The young woman crawled back away from him, a hood obscuring her face. he felt no fear from her, just a desire...

desire to get away from him...

The lightsaber in his hand was his, as he clearly recognized it as his very own craftmanship. It burned the color of the very trees that stood nearby offering their comfortable shade.

"You don't have to do this!" The woman said, still obscuring her face.

Vodo looked at her with absolutely no compassion. He knew this was wrong of him, and was not the Jedi way...

but ....

he didn't care.

The woman ignited a lightsaber of her own, and raised herself to her feet, holding it with both hands in a defensive posture. Vodo fell upon her with absolute fury, striking with walking stick and lightsaber, much as he had a certain wayward apprentice not to long ago.

The woman could not withstand such an attack, and Vodo easily disarmed her and lashed out with a vicious kick to her stomach, knocking her flat on her back.

The wind howled, and it whipped his hooded cloak around him violently. The grass swayed in the heavy wind.

Without remorse, Vodo raised his blade and stabbed the woman through the heart.

"vodo..." she muttered...

And Vodo looked into Leia Organa's dying face...



...and smiled.




Boom.


Vodo awoke with a start, the Force instantly bringing his senses to fully alert. His small starfighter, an old Aethersprite- class ship used in the Clone Wars by Jedi, was shaking. Smoke was rising from his controls in front of him, and red lights and shrill warning beacons were flashing and sounding respectively.

He began working on calming the ship and at the same time reaching out with the Force to discover the source of the trouble.

He found it almost instantly.

An aged and hulking Kaloth-class battlecruiser was directly ahead of him, not five thousand meters away. It's turbolasers were cooling down from their bombardment of his small fighter.

Vodo surmised he probably would have died if it wasn't for the evasive maneuvers his R2 unit, Sprite, had executed to avoid the worse of the blasts.

Sprite was definately worth the price those Bimms had demanded... Vodo thought even as the little droid squawked at him angrily.

"Calm down." He barked, "I have it under control."

The klaxons in in the cockpit ceased and Vodo took the ship off autopilot. The Kaloth still lurked, and seemed to be readying for another salvo.

Sprite twittled.

"I have no idea who they are. Most likely space pirates or slavers preying on these parts. The Bimms make excellent slaves, and their ships are usually unarmed."

At this, Sprite sounded moaned.

"No, I don't think they deal in droids."

Now a slightly more optimistic chime.

Vodo chuckled as he directed his fighter directly toward the Kaloth and accelerated. Sprite squealed.

"Sprite, shut up and prepare to vent dorsal plasma tanks."

The droid chimed, something about an 'idiot Jedi'.

"I don't care. We need to look like accelerating like that destroyed our systems and we are dead in the water."

Why? The droid asked.

"Because when someone disturbs my meditations, I get cranky. I think we should go in and say hello. Properly."

Sprite did as ordered and the fighter slowed, and began to list.


The slaver/pirate cruiser surged forward, it's tractor beam pulling the smaller ship into the awaiting docking bay...

Leia smiled fondly. "I already have everything I want... in you."


Tyscio must have been slightly bitter about the sprouts, because an odd look crossed his face and he suddenly whipped the pickle at Leia. She threw her arms up reflexively, and the pickle smacked against her forearm and stuck there; the peanut butter acting like glue. Leia grunted in disgust and shook her arm until the pickle fell off, and Tyscio burst out into laughter.


Not one to be outdone, Leia jabbed a finger at the pickle now on the floor. Tyscio's developing Jedi senses picked up a surge in the Force, and the pickle shot up and smacked him square in the face.


"That's cheating!" Tyscio complained, and Leia broke out in a fit of laughter and bolted from the kitchen before she could get into any more trouble. "Yeah, I'll get you a spot on the Vigil... in the brig!" He grumbled as he reached for something to wipe his face off with.


"There better be a jacuzzi!" Leia retorted from the safety of the living room.



***



As it turned out, with a couple of collected favors Tyscio managed not only to secure passage on the Vigil for Leia, but also the priviledge of private quarters. Well... temporary private quarters. As soon as the ship arrived at it's destination and began taking on refugees, her room would be converted into extra bunk space and she would share cramped quarters with everyone else.




***



Aboard the CommonWealth medical cruiser Vigil



Leia alone in her quarters, idely typing out a letter on her datapad to keep herself occupied. It had been several days since she had said her final goodbyes to Tyscio, and she couldn't help but feel guilty for leaving without him to head into a potentially dangerous war zone while pregnant with his child.


Between her glumness and a brief bout with space sickness that caught Leia offguard (she had never been space sick before in her life), Leia had scarcely left her quarters at all since the Vigil had departed for Mon Cal. If it weren't for several rumors floating around speculating as to the identity of the mysterious guest onboard, the crew wouldn't have known she was there at all. The Captain and his officers knew of course, but they had been going out of their way to respect her wishes.


When Leia had been introduced to the Captain and given a quick initial tour of the ship, she had learned that he and Tyscio had known each other during the Caprician war. As a result, she had come to the conclusion that Tyscio had put her on the Virgil because he trusted it's Captain to look after her. When asked about it however, Tyscio had innocently denied anything of the sort... like a fox, Leia thought.


The door chime sounded, startling Leia. Instead of getting up to answer the door, she reached out with the Force to touch the presence standing outside her door. The presence seemed friendly enough; she waved a hand, causing a subtle stir in the Force. The door catch released, and the door slid open to reveal one of the ship's crew members. He peered into the dark room for a long moment disoriented, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When he finally caught sight of Leia sitting in a chair with her datapad, he snapped a quick salute.


"Jedi Master Organa Solo..." He started.


"...Korban" Leia interjected when the new last name wasn't forthcoming. She recognized him as one of the officers she had been introduced to when she had first boarded the ship, but couldn't quite put her finger on his name... Halloway, was it?


"I apologize, Master Jedi."


"Just call me Leia" she responded, amused. The man looked uncertain for a moment, and then simply jumped to the point of his visit.


"Forgive me for intruding, but we are approaching the arrival in-system and the Captain thought you might like to join him on the bridge."


"Did he say why?"


"There was no particular reason, he just thought you might like to observe."


"Now?"


Halloway (she was pretty sure) glanced down at his wrist chrono.


"Within the hour. I apologize for the short notice, I meant to come see you earlier but I had some duty assignments to finish up. If you would like to freshen up first I will wait outside..."


"That would be nice, thank you."


"I will escort you to the bridge when you are ready, then." The officer offered a short bow, and then slipped out the door.


Leia hastily tied back her hair and slipped into a set of loose yet formal dark blue robes (not knowing how long she would be gone, Leia had selected a wardrobe she could... grow into). After a moment of contemplation, Leia also pulled out a specially crafted holster that wrapped around her waist and held her lightsaber snug in the small of her back, hidden under the bulk of her clothing. She didn't know if she would have a chance to come back for anything later...


She also slipped a datapad into an inside pocket of her robe, and then decided she was ready. She found Halloway waiting patiently outside the door to her room, and soon they were on their way to the bridge.


They walked in relative silence, Leia was content to remain silent and the officer didn't seem to want to press her into conversation. When they reached the bridge door, Halloway (that was his name, she had checked his nametag) opened it and stepped aside to let Leia enter first.


"Ah, I am glad that you have finally come out of hiding!" The Captain moved to greet Leia as soon as she entered the bridge, and warmly took one of her hands into both of his. "You have been so scarce around the ship, we were beginning to worry that you had fallen ill..."


The Captain of the Vigil was Hirem Malagan; an older man, with a thick grey mustache and a weathered face. He was a veteran of the Caprician war, although Leia wasn't sure if he had been serving under the Caprician forces or Vinda Corp...


"To be honest, I sort of did..." Leia admitted sheepishly in response to his concern.


The Captain frowned. "You should have said something... this is a medical cruiser, I am sure the doctors would have been happy to help you." As he spoke, Malagan guided Leia to an out of the way seat on the bridge. "Feel free to stay here and watch, I thought you might be interested to see how things look when arrive. We should be reverting to realspace soon..."


Leia accepted the seat quietly, noting as she always did with surprise that her lightsaber was nothing more than a slight padded lump at the small of her back and not entirely uncomfortable to lean against.



***



The small group of CommonWealth medical cruisers dropped out of hyperspace in the Mon Cal system a short time later. The plan was to hang back and enter the territory in conflict only after their help had been accepted and they had been given a secure destination...


From her place on the Vigil's bridge, Leia watched the medical cruisers coordinate into a tight little formation and begin to send out their offers of humanitarian aid to the known governments in the region. Word had been sent ahead that they were coming, but the CommonWealth was ever cautious... Leia couldn't blame them, it certainly wasn't in their best interests to get caught up in an intergalactic mishap. The CommonWealth was acting as a neutral party, and as such both sides of the conflict were contacted though Leia had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes as the Dragon's transmission was sent. Which lead to another reason Tyscio had probably picked the Vigil... it was carrying special supplies for the Calamarians, and would most likely be working with them.