The Rebel Faction

Viryn Quell wasn't awakened by the first knock, or the second. In fact, he'd not slept in at least three days; when it finally came, he clung to it like a small child unwilling to get up for school. No, it was something else entirely that woke the famed writer.

"Hello!"

The face -- that of a young, fairly attractive woman -- was about three inches from his own, if not less. The voice was inhumanly loud, and of an impossible pitch. This was, however, for a very logical reason; its source was completely inhuman.

"Fucking hell," Viryn muttered, crawing out of the bed and glancing around the small appartment. The ground was littered with a collection of papers, datapads, and clothing; a variety of complex computer equipment -- most of which Viryn didn't fully understand -- sat in the corner, thrumming softly.

Miette was, as always, his personal assistant, publicist, and alarm clock, among other things. She needed to be, since Obligation Publishing was little more than the two of them; a writer, and a semi-sentient human replicant droid. Taking on the outward appearance of a bustling and productive publishing business, it was in fact little more than a front for Viryn's continued Holonet output, and a diversion for those seeking him.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" Viryn asked, grabbing his glasses and hastily shoving them on.

It was only then -- as his eyes quickly scanned the room -- that he saw the shadows, under the door, in the distinct position indicated a pair of feet.

When the Empire had returned to Coruscant, he'd very quickly become a wanted man; a criminal, hunted down by Stormtroopers, fleeing from hole to hole, hastily shooting off press releases before the authorities again located him. Only by extreme paranoia and caution had he survived and chartered an unregulated shuttle off of Imperial Center.

And so, his reaction was not a suprise to Miette, whose perfect memory retained all things. "Who the hell is that?"

"The reason I woke you?" She replied sarcastically.

"Shit."

Access to his appartment was carefully restricted; almost no one knew he was living there. Those seeking Obligation Press would find themselves at a very typical office building, the droid operators of which would deny them access and direct them to contact Mr. Quell through his holonet address. "You know what I mean!" He whispered, pulling on a sweater hastily.

"A group of aliens. Three meters tall. Grey. Some species I don't recognize. They're pretty ugly."

Scrambling, he rushed to the computers, smashing hastily the button that melted their magnetic discs. He grabbed his blaster pistol, adjusted his glasses again, and rushed for the only exit available to him. He pulled open the appartment's single window, leaping onto the emergency escape outside. Miette, somewhat curious but still not alarmed, slowly moved over to it, looking up at him. "They don't seem hostile. I can read people, and these guys aren't looking for trouble. They're looking for something, for sure, but not trouble."

"Oh, what the hell do you know," Viryn muttered, grabbing her by the hand and dragging her out.

Viryn muttered nervously to himself as he hurried down the catwalk-street, still dragging Miette by the hand. "I really don't think this is necessary..."

"Shut it," he said. "Do you remember Coruscant? We have to be paranoid. We have to keep moving."

Miette rolled her eyes. "We're not in Imperial territory anymore, you know." She made a good point. Dorthal resembled Coruscant in nearly every way, and Viryn still woke up in the middle of the night, thinking he was on Imperial Center.

"Do you think these people give a damn about us?" The writer waved a hand bitterly at the passers-by as the made their way through a crowd, Miette finally shaking his hold off of her hand and following of her own volition. "Anthos is nothing but another self-interested puppet government, selling their souls to the highest bidder. The Empire says jump, Anthos says 'How high?'"

"There are no aliens in the Empire," she pointed out. "And I'm pretty sure the guys at our door weren't human."

"Oh you are, are you?" Viryn asked sarcastically. "A moral organization like the Empire, after all, would never think of hiring another species to do their dirty work."

Miette shook her head. "Is everyone out to get you?"

Viryn spun, fire in his eyes, pointing a finger at his android assistant. "Yes." He began to turn, but before he finished, he stopped dead, grabbed Miette by the hand, and turned the corner, onto another catwalk, this one snaking about a massive, circular building.

One hundred meters down their former catwalk, crossing a bridge that stretched between city sections across an infinite chasm reaching to Dorthal's lower levels, had been a group of gray-skinned aliens.

"If they're so friendly, what the fuck is all this about, then?" Viryn asked, looking over his shoulder and breaking into a run.

Viryn Quell tore through another crowded street of people, around another catwalk and across more endless artificial abysses created by the city structure of Dorthal. With a quick glance behind him, he found that Miette was still keeping up, rather effortlessly -- not suprising, since she was a droid. This did aggrivate him slightly, and he looked away.

Darting into a large speede parking garage, the pair finally began to slow, Quell panting slightly. It had been a long time since his stint in the Imperial armed forces, and though still almost anemically skinny, he had begun to get out of shape. "Think we've lost them?" He asked, glacning over his shoulder. The question was mostly rhetorical.

"Doubt it," Miette answered anyway.

Viryn spewed a random curse and continued through the garage. "Has it occured to you that we probably won't be able to outrun them?"

The writer turned, running a hand through his hair. "So? Fuck," he muttered, pacing briefly, then continuing through the garage, then stopping, then starting again. "I hope the deepest circle of hell is reserved for anyone who hunts down a reporter..."

"This coming from the devout atheist."

"You may think this is funny," Viryn roared, spinning and grabbing his droid assistant by the collar. "But I sure as fucking hell don't! Think about where we are! Think about what I do! We escaped so many times on Coruscant -- do you think our luck will last?" His hair still strangely tousled, his face unshaven (though it was always so) and his eyes wide with paranoid anxiety, the author appeared quite mad indeed.

Unabashedly, Miette replied, "Well, don't look now, but..."

As a droid, one of Miette's many abilities was hearing significantly superior to that of any human. "What is it? What do you hear?" Viryn asked, breaking away from her. He felt for his blaster at his waist nervously.

And quickly enough, from around the far corner of the speeder parking garage, came a duo of tall, grey aliens. Whirling about frantically, Viryn turned around just in time to see a second pair, approaching from the way he'd came, from the street outside.

"Viryn Quell, of Obligation Publishing?" One of them asked.

"Yeah, that's me," Viryn heard himself reply. Four of them. If he was going down, it would be with a fight. Here, underground, where no civilians could be hurt. Yes. He'd been accused all of his career by ignorant politicians of being nothing more than a reporter; not a warrior, or a soldier. Now he would show them. He would not go quietly. He would die fighting.

"We -- " But the alien stopped, turning. For from both directions that the aliens had come, came squads of humans, dressed in black and gray and carrying blaster weapons.

"Dorthal Security," they announced. "Put down your weapons and -- sheath whatever claws or other beastly natural weapons you possess. You will be coming with us."

Hurrah! Today marks the tenth time I've bumped this thread back on to the first page, waiting for gash to post, since I last posted in the thread and advanced the story! Another four days will also make it the TENTH WEEK since I posted, making this a double celebration.

I'd like to lift a glass to Gash, who has - I think - broken any record I've ever seen of waiting for someone to post. This monumental accomplishment will go down in my personal history book as a most important event. Cheers.

(P.S. Ahnk is a smelly pants for having no sense of humour. You don't see Gash complaining about the OOC posting.

But then, you don't see Gash around here much at all - ZING! Oh, and its' now officially been more then ten weeks.)



Another bump.

(OOC:With Gash's permission, I will NPC Viren Quell (whos' name I have continuously spelt wrong) so as to push this story ahead.)

As the agents dragged Viren down flight after flight of stairs, the occasional shot ricocheted dangerously around them. Crowds in their way parted, and speeders flew madly away from them as they made a mad dash from the guard squads above, and trying to outrace the ones below. Viren could only stare at the proceedings in total confusion, struggling wildly with those who held him in their iron grip.

Finally, the team made it out onto the ground level, ahead of the guards trying to block the door and well before those who were behind them.

X-4 guestured madly in the direction of their ship, shouting incoherently, but X-2 and 5 got the general idea, and with their two guests in tow made their way through the throngs of people. X-4 went to the side of the wall where X-3 lay broken and bleeding. Slinging his fallen comrade over his shoulder, he too began to run towards the ship.

________________________________________________________________________

Elsewhere, X-1 and X-6, sat in the ship, waiting for a report. The ships' comm unit sparked to life, and X-5's voice could be heard.

"Sir!" he called "We have the reporter and the droid, but we are being followed. How are we to proceed?"

"How many? What is it that is pursuing you?"

"Government forces, they are completely alerted to our presence sir. X-3 is badly injured and we are not far from the ship."

Damn. He'd hoped to have time to give some formal introduction, but it appears luck was not with them right now.

"Your orders are this: Return with the two forthwidth, we will launch immeadietly. With at least a little luck we will make it out long before they have time to scramble fighters to stop us."

"Orders recieved, sir." said X-5, who then shut off his comm.

"X-6?" Called X-1 "Prepare the ship for take off and tell me the very moment our fellow agents are in sight!"

"Yes sir!" boomed X-6, who leapt to the task.

X-1 sat himself in the pilots' seat. All they needed was a little luck... He only hoped it was worth all the trouble they were going through.

___________________________________________________________________________

The Anthos Guards were loath to fire into crowds, and the agents kept themselves well concealed as they darted their way under cover towards their ship. Using their bulky frames to protect Viren and Miette from fire, their thin armour burned under the occasional potshot, but they kept going with admirable resolve.

At last, and with great effort, they made the last dash to the transport ship. X-2 and 5 apoligized as they dropped Viren and Miette less-then-lightly in the ship. Viren was so taken aback he didn't have time to try and escape before he had to roll out of the way of X-3's body as it was dropped into the ship too by X-4. Then the three other agents clambered aboard and slammed the door shut.

"What is going on here?-" Demanded Viren, as he climbed up against a wall.

"I apoligize, Mr. Quell, we had hoped to explain the situation to you, but it appears we have hit a snag. Unfortunately, it appears it is no longer safe for you here, and we ask your cooperation in moving you out of this danger zone so we might further discuss-"

The ship rocked dangerously as it was peppered with las-fire.

"No time for this now!" Exclaimed X-2, as he jumped into the pilot's seat. Grabbing the controls, he set the shuttle to lift-off and began dodging the incoming fire. Viren Quell let forth a stream of obscenity as he was flung against the walls, while Miette kept her balance admirably with the agents, who were busy manning the gun and keeping the ship in order.

The shuttle blazed its' way from the surface of the planet, Anthos local police authority scrambling its' ships for intercept. Guns burned a path through the sky, but X-2 kept the ship one step ahead, and made his way for the atmosphere. The police ships began pursuit, but it looked like they were too far to catch up now.

As they cut through the atmosphere, and the last gun shots faded behind them, Viren struggled to his feet and looked wild-eyed around the ship. "What the @#%$ is going on!?" He demanded.

X-1 stood before him "Calm down, sir." he said "We are not here to harm you. We have been sent by High Lord Regrad of the Coalition."

Virens' heavy breathing and panicked look subsided little. He knew the Coalition might not be quite as bad as the Empire, but it also didn't take well to critics. Also, he had never heard of these "Azguard" guys, and the title High Lord didn't sound too inviting.

"I don't care who you're working for, you're letting me go NOW."

X-1 sighed. "I'm sorry, sir, but Regrad is quite anxious to meet you. He is a big fan, you know. You may have heard of the "Azguard affairs office?""

This rang a little bell in Virens' memory. He had read of its' mention in a handful of Coalition press releases, but there was practically no information on them anywhere. "What about it?"

X-1 took out his Azguard Affairs badge, and handed it over to Viren. It seemed pretty official, but that really didn't prove anything. "Our original orders were to provide you with the oppourtunity to meet our Lord, but it seems circumstances have changed. There is no where safe we can leave you right now, and Regrad will be most capable of aiding you in whatever you plan to do. We ask only for your trust."

"Trust" snorted Viren, who wasn't completely aware of the fact he'd just snorted. "Why should I honestly trust you? You just kidnapped me and Miette, fought your way out of an Anthos world, and are now claming to work for a mysterious organization in the Coalition for aliens no one has ever seen before? Bullshit."

"Viren" Said Miette, with distinct annoyance in her artificial voice "If you've got any ideas on what we should do now I'd love to hear them, but it looks like Obligations Press has just gone under, they've already got all our stuff in their ship, and they did just half-kill themselves to get us out unharmed. Maybe - just maybe - we havn't got much choice on what to do next? Stop being so paranoid."

Viren looked prepared to explode over the paranoid remark, but X-1 stepped forwards and pressed a stack of Virens' personal possession into his hands. "You didn't seem to have much, but what you did have we did our best to keep safe for you. We have food in the back of the ship if you are hungry, and there is a bed you are also free to use. It will take us some time to get to Azguard, to are advised to relax."

Viren, for lack of any response and indeed without the strength to argue any further, nodded mutely, and lay down, watching the Azguards cautiously from his hammock. What was he going to do?