The Rebel Faction

Bastion System

Vice-Admiral Vikar watched the starlines revert to their natural pinprick forms from his flagship, the Terra Firma, the lightspeed process reversed to the slow process that what was to come would undoubtedly be. On the sensors of his vessel, the other ships in the massive taskforce rang loud and clear. There was no stealth, no suprise, no tactical advantage. All that was gone, now.

There was nothing left for the Empire but this. Nothing left but this final attack on Bastion, this final attempt to destroy the man that had plagued the Empire for so long. Tilaric Brel had been thought dead at Fondor; when he'd resurfaced, he'd been thought a renewed enemy, then a friend. The murderous hurt caused him and his was politely swept under a rug out of convenience, the massive destruction he'd helped cause as a pawn of Thrawn forgotten: after all, he was fully capable, and certainly useful.

How funny it was, then, that it was all just a ruse. The past, wrongdoings once committed against a soul, though perhaps forgotten by the one committing them, were never forgotten by the one wronged.

Old desires for revenge had bred this murderous rise to power.

Old desires for revenge which could never be hidden, no matter how carefully covered.

The taskforce continued forward, inbound for Bastion. The Republic vessels were right beside their own, forming together a sizable force. Another instance, Vikar thought, of the careful masquerade of harbored enmity. How long would it be until the Empire and Republic returned to war, regardless of the outcome of this strike? In one form or another, the Empire and Republic would always war.

The inbound transmission from Tilaric Brel. "My old enemies, come to fight me so soon, I see. Take the fight to the New Empire before they are ready? Sounds like the Regent. You will never take down the Scourge Fleet: you will never live down Fondor. Come, then, Empire; come to your death."

Suitably dramatic.

And so, the first turbolaser volleys began their exchange, massive beasts of steel twisting and turning awkwardly as they began their battle.

Thousands of them.

Red and green beams of murderous light filled the viewport of Vikar's flagship. Beams of vengeance, each one fired with the righteous fury of one man who had finally found his revenge for a ten-year-old grudge, thought forgotten.

Hate is never forgotten, Vikar thought. Only disguised. And perhaps, disguised hate is the most dangerous.

Vikar's Terra Firma shoot with all the ferocity of a quake of its namsake. The explosion of a destroyed Imperial Star Destroyer blistered across the viewport, Bastion hanging in the distance.

Hate always won.

Bastion System

Tilaric Brel smiled. They were winning.

The Wrath missiles did their part, and the weary Imperial forces did the rest. The New Empire was dominating the battle in every sense of the word. It was over, for them.

A sense of accomplishment, of peace, had settled over Tilaric. At last, after all these years, after all this suffering, I have done it, he thought. He'd succeeded in his quest, despite the roadblocks, despite the opponents he had faced. He had finally avenged his past, he had brought honor back to the name of Freedom Guard.

He had known he would; there was never any doubt. There was no force more powerful than vengeance, and there had never been any doubt that his would come to him. The Empire which had wronged him was crumbling in his death grasp.

A channel was being opened. Beside him, the miniature shape of Gerren Xizen appeared. "Hello, my friend." Tilaric said, smiling widely. "I don't know how these dogs knew that our fleet would be here, but it has turned out to be all the better."

Gerren didn't respond at first. "I have something I would like the entire fleet to hear. I want to celebrate this victory. Open frequency."

A faint, "Yes, sir."

Tilaric, in his exhilerated ecstacy, expected a celebratory comment on the par of a wedding toast.

It wasn't what he got.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the New Empire and Old, I present to you Tilaric Brel. Abuser of the name "Empire". If there even is such a thing as the abuse of that foul word."

Tilaric's smile vanished.

"Mr. Brel, we had a pact. A covanent. You broke that pact without hesitation -- without a second thought, you destroyed the hopes and trust of the Falleen who counted you as friend. You told us that you were loyal to Darth Vader. You told us that it was the Emperor who had the city surrounding Vader's biological research facility on my homeworld, not Vader himself.

"It was all a lie. And with that lie, you had us design a perfect virus, a perfect biological agent for you to complete your own quest of idiot vengeance with." The face of Gerren Xizen darkened.

"Jam that signal!" Cried Brel. "Jam it now!"

"We can't, sir."

"Everything you ever told us was a damnable lie, and you didn't care. The minute you were finished with our trust, you threw us away like the pawns we were. We were fools to trust you, Tilaric Brel.

"It was you who unleashed the Wrath virus upon the galaxy, not the Regent. It was you who designed it, and you who possessed the antidote from the beginning."

Tilaric gulped. "No... Xizen, I never meant to --"

"No more words, Tilaric Brel. They mean nothing. You and your kind will always be the same; kin with those who murdered my ancestors all those years ago. None of you are free from sin. None of you are innocent. You thought that you could use our hate for you in your favour, 'Emperor'. You thought that you could bury our desire for vengeance in the garden of your lies.

"You should have known better than to think you could bury vengeance." The hologram's head turned. "Target Brel's ship. Wrath missiles."

"No!" Tilaric screamed. "Evasive maneuvers! He has Wrath missiles!"

"I don't know the truth anymore, Tilaric Brel. But I know this: I will have my revenge. I expect I will die in doing this, but so be it. May whatever forsaken God there is sort out our souls." A pause.

"Fire."