The Rebel Faction

It was into this situation that Wes arrived, his shuttles carrying several extra passengers this time. The hyperspace journey had been relatively painless, though one of the prisoners now had quite a large knot on his head from where Selere had clubbed him. But Wes couldn't pity him; the man had cursed the Empire. That was an offense worthy of death, but considering what was in store for these rogues, he figured a knock on the head was enough. The pain would come later.

Now, looking at the display on the shuttle's control panel, Wes shook his head. How does it always come down to this? he thought to himself. The Confederation may claim to be this high and mighty savior, but here they are with a fleet of warships, holding the people of New Holstice hostage. Well, we'll see what we can do to remedy that little situation.

It had been a long time since Wes had been called upon to play the diplomat between two sides. In fact, if he remembered correctly, the last time had been at the Imperial Academy, so many years ago...


The Past
Imperial Academy
Raithal
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The punch sent Cadet Joram Uthria tumbling backwards, rolling once before ending up on his backside in the dirt. Nose bleeding, eyes full of anger, he struggled quickly to his feet and glared at the upperclassman laughing at him. Uthria, a plebe at the Academy, was smaller than a number of his oversized superiors. Nevertheless, his upbringing on the tough world of Tatooine had taught him a thing or too about fighting, and had made him tough enough to take a hit. His opponent, on the other hand, was from the upper classes in Imperial City, and his hands were still soft despite the rigors of the Academy. It was commonly known he had been offered a spot only because his father was a Senator who had done some service for the Emperor.
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[color=#ff0000]Growling, Uthria leaped forward, dodging the boxer-style swings of Cadet Eduf, and slammed his fist into the nether regions of his opponent. As the cadet began to double over, Uthria's elbow smashed into his nose. Eduf started to fall backward, only to be met with the spinning Uthria's other elbow in the base of his neck, followed by Uthria's hand dropping into a kidney punch. Finally, Uthria spun back around and backhanded the older cadet across the mouth, sending him to the ground on his face. Eduf lay still.
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[color=#ff0000]But one battle does not a war win. Eduf, as cruel as he was to underclassmen, was well-respected by those in the upper ranks of the school. Three of them now pounced on the already bloody Uthria, two of them grabbing his arms while the third began pummelling him, taking out revenge for the defeat of their leader. Uthria, still not beat, kicked and squirmed, but his captors were too strong. Then something happened, something that would stick with him for the rest of his life.
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[color=#ff0000]"What have we here?" came a voice from behind the attacker. The Cadet, a brute from Taris named Anuza, spun to see the senior from Bakuru approaching. If there was anyone more respected at the Academy than Eduf, it was Wesley Vos, and now he approached with purpose, the anger flaring in his eyes enough to give even the most brutish of individuals to take pause.
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[color=#ff0000]"I do believe you've caught a fresh fish, Anuza. What has this fish done to deserve such treatment?"
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[color=#ff0000]The junior scowled. "You can see for yourself. Look what 'e did t' poor Eduf!"
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[color=#ff0000]Wes chuckled. "A freshman did that to your hero? Well, he must be something. Are you something, Freshman?"
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[color=#ff0000]Uthria, who surprisingly had managed to remain conscious, spat blood and said, "I just defended myself. Is it my fault that he can't take a hit?"
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[color=#ff0000]Anuza drew back to hit the freshman again, but Wes stopped him. "Hold there. Why strike a man for only doing what you yourself would have done. If Eduf can get taken out so easily, and by a freshman at that, why do you idolize him?"
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[color=#ff0000]Anuza and his friends looked at one another, faces twisted in confusion. "He makes a good point," one of them said. Nodding, Anuza dropped his fist and said, "Sorry, youngster. I guess Vos is right. No need to beat you up this time. Come on, let's get Eduf to the infirmary."
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[color=#ff0000]As the other two dropped Uthria's arms, he swung into action. His first punch, directed at the smiling Anuza, never landed; the iron grip of Cadet Vos had his fist fast. Vos squeezed, and Uthria grimaced in pain. Nevertheless, his other fist shot towards Vos's face. It also didn't land, as Vos twisted the cadet's arm behind his back and slammed him to the ground.
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[color=#ff0000]Quickly, Vos whispered in his ear, "Vengeance can come later, Freshman. Now is not the time, not when you're surrounded by his friends. Wait until you get him alone."
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[color=#ff0000]Uthria relaxed, and Vos let him to his feet. Turning his back, Vos said, "Take Eduf and get out of here. I can handle this." The other three picked up their friend and departed. Vos turned back to the smouldering Uthria. "I'll expect to see him bloody in a few weeks. In the meantime, take care of yourself, alright? You make it through here, I'll see that you get into my command. I like you, Freshman; you've got spirit. Learn patience, and you'll be a perfect soldier."
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Present
New Holstice
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Unfortunately, Uthria had never learned patience. Vos had taken him into the newly formed ISF and let him take command of Green Squadron. Uthria had trained the squadron well. But he had let his anger get the better of him once again, at the worst possible moment; he had been killed on Coruscant by a Coalition spy during the ISF's first mission.
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[color=#c0c0c0]Vos shook his head. That was one time when his diplomatic skills had worked. He only hoped they would be as effective here; otherwise, the blood that would be shed would be far worse than simply a bloody nose or a cracked rib. As the shuttles docked with the Tyrant, Wes sent a message to the bridge, ordering them to prepare a link to the captain of the Confederation fleet. He would speak with them himself.
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New Holstice
ISD V Tyrant
Bridge
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Commander Lucerne appeared on the viewscreen. He seemed a bit annoyed, as though he was sick of speaking with Imperial trash. Wes couldn't blame him; the report he'd received from Commander Smith was less than ideal. Nevertheless, he would have to attempt to diffuse this situation as quickly as possible.
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[color=#c0c0c0]"Commander Lucerne," he said, smiling. "How nice to see you. I hear from my Commander that you are here for the same purpose as us; to provide aid to the people of New Holstice and to catch those who perpetrated this horrific action. Perhaps, instead of shooting at one another, we might work together in this case. I happen to have received word of the location of the Imperial rogues who did this; however, it would be unwise for us to attempt the capture, as Handooine still is strongly sympathetic to the Republican form of government. I'm sure if you were to go there, however, that they would be more than happy to allow you to search the planet."

Revanche-class Star Defender Revanche, in orbit via New Holstice

The Commodore glossed over the information being forwarded by fleet intelligence on their latest foes, the newly arrived Imperial Guard units. While he wasn’t terribly impressed by the ships themselves, Corise did have a healthy respect for their commander, Telan Desaria. If it came down to blows, the last ships likely fighting would be the Imperial Guard and his more experienced ships which were part of the White Fleet, the Confederation’s own elite space-going force. One of the Star Defender’s communication’s officers turned and drawled to the Kashan man.

“We have a message from that SS commander, Wes Vos.”

“Major, or is it General now?”

The man shrugged, and Corise aped the gesture and sighed. “Patch it through.”

His command chair’s left holo-projector flared to life; juxtaposing the SS officer over the vista of stars as seen through the ship’s ceraglass viewports. Coming from an aristocratic house, the younger Lucerne had been forced to receive and practice some diplomacy from the earliest days of his adolescence. Corise had discovered during that time that diplomacy really wasn’t about eloquent speeches or promises. No, diplomacy was based on understanding. And to do that, a good diplomat listened first, talked later. And perhaps just as important, kept his own comments to himself, careful to never reveal one’s true emotions or feelings. The Imperial officer smiled, and Lucerne leaned back in his chair, feigning calm indifference.

"Commander Lucerne…”

That’s Commodore Lucerne….

“..How nice to see you…”

Yes, how very nice to see you too. Perhaps you can kindly throw yourself into the mouth of a Sarlaac. I would be much obliged….

“…I hear from my Commander that you are here for the same purpose as us; to provide aid to the people of New Holstice and to catch those who perpetrated this horrific action…”

Indeed. The massive show of ships loaded with ground troops aren’t here to start or invasion or to nullify our fleet, whose mission with the blessing of the New Holstice government is to protect and provide aid to the people. The only aid I see coming from you are blaster bolts to the suicidal.

There is a difference between the two of us. The Confederation looks forward past the tragedy, seeking to repair lives and provide comfort so that people can and will enjoy their future. The Empire would rather like to drag back painful memories of the past to execute them for their own sadistic pleasure.

“..Perhaps, instead of shooting at one another, we might work together in this case…”

Chances of that happening are fifty percent. Chances of the Revanche targeting newly arrived Imperial shuttles…eighty percent…after all, those shuttles probably have more invasion forces on them…

“…I happen to have received word of the location of the Imperial rogues who did this; however, it would be unwise for us to attempt the capture …”

I suggest getting me drunk first, then I might, might believe you. Even the smugglers and criminals on the most isolated of planets worry about Imperial Intelligence sneaking up and nabbing them. Imperial Intelligence, although it sounds like an oxymoron, isn’t an organization to be trifled with. It is one to be respected, and perhaps even feared… The high and mighty Empire invades and captures the bulk of the Bothan Sector for breakfast, but fears a backwater world whose newest issued weapon is probably twenty standard years old, and is a blaster rifle. They are so old that they still employ Ewoks to throw rocks from their ships to attack enemy vessels…


“…as Handooine still is strongly sympathetic to the Republican form of government…”

I wonder why. Perhaps it is because Republics generally don’t destroy worlds or enslave entire populaces or set up puppet governments or take away people’s freedom…makes you wonder why anyone would ever want to align themselves with the Empire except out of fear of being smashed to death…

“…I'm sure if you were to go there, however, that they would be more than happy to allow you to search the planet...”

Indeed. Because the SS doesn’t have a history of infiltration and doing things that local governments don’t want. Valinor is a nonexistent example of that, clearly… it would be surprising if the SS didn’t search the planet already…meaning that they already have them or they somehow failed. Perhaps not enough manpower from trying to conquer the entire galaxy at once?

Corise slightly adjusted his posture in his chair. “I thank you for the advice and the assurance of the Empire’s commitment to condemning these horrific claims. However, this fleet is not my own, nor is its mission. I must first talk to several politicians, and most importantly, the government below. It will their people’s wish if the fleet seeks the fugitives at Handooine, or stay here to continue to provide relief to the stricken. Thank you for your time, sir. Lucerne out.”

The visage of the other officer disintegrated on his left while the right holo-projector flared to life to reveal another figure; almost the polar opposite of Wes Vos. This one slim, feminine, and dressed in civilian formal wear: Prime Minister Aresu Jenkins, current head of the New Holstice government. She flashed a smile, and Corise solemnly nodded back.

“What did you think of the SS soldier’s words?” questioned the man; as the holo-feed from the Revanche’s command chair was always being transmitted to the governmental house.

Her smiled faltered. “Can one ever trust the Empire?”

Corise’s lip twitched. “In my opinion, no.”

“And neither do I,” replied the politician, ”New Holstice might have been free from the Empire’s grip for decades, but it doesn’t mean that we don’t know what the Empire is about. We have taken and treated the refugees of worlds invaded and bombarded by Imperial warships. We have seen the lies propogated by INS. Can there be any good from them?”

“Only in a few select individuals,” replied the officer, “of whom I do not Vos is one of.”

The Prime Minister shook her head. “Neither do I. Despite whatever misgivings we may have of them, it is my wish, and that of my advisors, that your fleet does leave for Handooine.”

“Ma’am?”

She sighed. “It’s more than likely a feint to draw your forces away from us, to abandon us for an easy conquest. We know that, we are prepared for that. But if the Confederation somehow is put into a war merely on our behalf, thousands more will suffer. That is something that I cannot have rest on my consciousness.”

“But what of your freedoms? What of the Empire’s wrongs?”

Jenkins let out a sigh. “The Empire will fall sometime. All governments do. And my people will help contribute to that. No, we will not resist them on the battlefield or in uniform, but we will strike them wearing the civilian clothes that show what we want; peace, freedom, family, and domestic rule. They may think that this is a world where their soldiers will be treated, and it will be to a lucky few. But this is where more will feel the sting of our bullets and blasters from the forests, from the city. This is where sabotage will run rampant. I have already seen to that so that the military is ready to fight underground, and the populace is motivated and trained to. Your CSIS advisors are also appreciated in doing their part for setting us up for the possibility. Goodbye, Commodore.”

Corise hesitated. “Might I ask of you something?”

“Delete all records of this conversation.”

“There is no need,” replied the woman, “it’s not being recorded by my will or any of my staff, and I am certain that there are no listening devices in place. We’ve had the area continually sweeped. Rest assured, there is no chance of anyone getting a hold of our conversation.”

“Thank you ma’am,” replied the officer, “for my part, I know that this area of transmission is safe. Direct and encrypted transmissions are almost impossible to intercept, and even more difficult to decode. Goodbye Prime Minister. Perhaps I will see you one day?”

She barked a nervous laugh. “Perhaps only on Imperial wanted posters? My cabinet and myself are all going underground to lead the resistance. We will be ready for whatever they dare through at us. Goodbye again, sir, and may your Confederation propser. Jenkins out.”

The transmission cut out, and the image decomposed. Lucerne frowned and turned to his helmsmen, and ordered the man to plot a course for Handooine. Minutes later, the Confederate fleet vanished to hyperspace towards Handooine, and the New Holstice resistance prepared for their long fight against the Empire.

The launch bay aboard the SS Destroyer was not unlike the countless others from which the Baron Desaria had come and gone the whole of his military career. To be certain there were more banners, some black, some red; here and there moved a man whose uniform was not pressed according to the high standards of the day - to be certain, a reprimand awaited each as evidenced from the glowing red faces of angry but restrained Chief Petty Officers; throughout, the deck was swept and tidy despite the constant activity. There pervaded a feeling of eliteness one had come to expect of the Schultzstaffeln. Grudgingly, the Grand Admiral could say little of the SS he could not say of the Guard. The pair were the equals of none except each other.


Desaria stood ahead of his shuttle, itself fitting in being polished and bright. The Grand Admiral himself looked as he normally did: pressed uniform with creases that could slice a man, polished jackboots, gold braided epaulettes bereft of any dirt or lint, and a shined Imperial Cross seated at his neck. There he stood, avoided by all the black suited SS men - all but one.


" Generaloberst Vos."


The Commander of the SS moved over to the Grand Admiral and saluted, his motions as rigid and precise as a Guardsman's. Almost, anyway. The two men stood for a moment, regarding one another. Day and night, dark and light.


" Your Excellency." The General waited until his salute was returned, then dropped his hand to his side and stood at as close an approximationg of attention as was expected of a senior officer.


" You ran this operation well, I am pleased. Pity we did not get to don our armor and fight the good fight, no?"


A smile creased the General's face, but not words replied. Desaria continued, all genial nature gone from his still-young face. One boot moved ahead of the other until the two men were barely a meter from one another. In that instant when he stopped, the Grand Admiral and the Guardsman separated. The latter returned to the shuttle, to be rejoined later. What spoke now was pure Imperial, nothing more - - nor less.


" This all happened entirely too easy. I would not put it past the Confederation to have used this opportunity to land a few saboteurs and troublemakers beyond the reach of our sensors. Such problems that could be created are matters of internal security. Undoubtedly, despite our efforts, the seeds of discord and even revolt will be sown.


" General, I make no mistake about what the SS has done, nor do I ignore the laurels on your mantle. But I also know what your men are capable of and that is what separates the SS from the Guard. Thus the Guard will go - the SS, in some capacity, in or out of uniform, will stay. The unique qualities for ruthlessness and unconscionable actions is what suits your men best for what lies ahead. Do whatever it is you need to do to keep things quiet here, General. Whatever you need to do."


Desaria stepped back and with nothing else, moved back towards his shuttle, the ramp hissing as he approached. As one jackboot came down onto the ramp itself, the Guardsman and Grand Admiral were reunited once more. He turned to the black-clad Colonel-General and with a wave, departed. " Good hunting my friend - to the next field of battle. Glory waits for no man!"


Soon, Desaria was gone from the Tyrant; then the Guard was gone from New Holstice.