The Rebel Faction

(Sorry Skier, I thought I'd advance a little)

Anderson had kept going, leaving the commandoes alone.

Keeping his eyes focused on the temple, he plodded forwards through the dense jungle. Animals some reason sensed it was a good idea not to touch this guy, and he advanced unbothered.

It was an easy trek, he'd seen worse at least.

After he got off Iota, he got lost on Corellia. No one would look for him there, it's on the other side of the galaxy. At least, he hoped no one would.

He got a new job, and a new identity, and for the best month of his life he thought this was how he'd live from now on, eating at a pleasent cafe, with good friends, and work at the office keeping track of sales. But it was not to be.

One night, coming home with a few friends after some drinks, four men had come out of the alley into a strangely empty street. The people who lived here had known what was coming, and had shut their windows. They didn't want any part of it. The four men were amature bounty-hunters, and were there to take Anderson in. They were armed. So was Anderson.

It had been a short fight, and none of the bounty-hunters walked out of it. But not all his friends had either. Anderson had left that very night, finally accepting he'd never have a normal life again.

He remember running out of the city, into the few unsettled areas left on the planet. He hadn't thought much about it, it just seemed to be the most sensible thing to do at the time, get out, escape.

He was lost for a week, eating anything that looked like it could be eaten and driking whatever didn't look like it just came out of some animal.

Finally, he found some bats. Well, bat-like creatures. Whatever they were, they were the same ones he'd found back home on Iota. He still didn't know what they were doing there, but all that mattered was that they were there, and he followed them on a hunting trip until he found the edge of the forest, got back to civilization, and got a flight out of there.

And that was still the worst walk he'd ever had.

Kind of stupid, really, but that's just what happened. Not everyone got to be a hero.

As he reached a clearing near the front of the temple, a pair of guards stopped him. But they were rebel guards, and Anderson knew how to handle this sort of people. He just kept walking, and neither of them looked like they wanted to try and stop him.

Standing in the middle of a temple thousands of years old, he said to no one in particular "Good job you've done here. Perfect target for the bombers, I'm sure their pilots will be very grateful. Who's in charge here?"

(No problem Dolash. I slacked off for too long anyway.)

"Skier!" the Major called.

"Sir!"

"Where is Myln?" the Major asked.

"I thought he was with Zeal!" John replied.

"Zeal?"

"I thought he was with Skier!" Zeal, the only alien, said.

Zeal was a very large Klatooinian and gave off the impression to anybody that they better agree with whatever he said. Most of the troops, growing up with the light to moderate racism all humans did, despite the Rebellion's position on aliens, treated him with distant hatred. John, on the other hand, who had never met another species beside human and Vong and did not take such a thing for granted, carried no such resentment.

"@#%$ hell..." the Major muttered, "Well it seems I have to do everything around here. We're going to split up into one man teams and search for this guy. Hopefully he hasn't gotten to the Temple yet, for your sakes."

John knew immediately what the Major ment. An unescorted stranger to the Rebellion wasn't exactly according to protocol. If Myln had found his way to the Temple and had either gotten shot or let through, depending on the mood of the guards, it'd reflect poorly on the Major. And anything that reflected poorly on the Major meant hell for them.

So off they all went in different directions. For a little while John walked with his rifle tightly jabbed into his shoulder, but he then realized there was no point to it. The animals around the Temple had learned by now not to mess with an armed soldier, and looking like he was ready to kill anything that moved wouldn't help in his search for Myln.

BOOM!

The thunderous roar of a thermal detonator interrupted the awkward silence of the Yavin IV forest.

Crack, crack! Crack, crack! Crack, crack!

The distant sound of blaster fire sounded shortly after. John was off in a flash, rifle back into his shoulder, slapping branches and leaves out of the way to get to the source of the fighting. He came into a clearing with a roll, his rifle scanning the clearing for hostiles.

It took him half a second more to notice the dead body of Major West. John slowly stood up and, not seeing anyone around, slowly approached the corpse of his C.O. His back was littered with smoking holes. His head rested on its side, one eye giving John a blank, accusing stare. blood trickled from the Major's mouth.

Crack, crack! Crack, crack! Crack, crack!

Gunfire rang out once more, and John was off again. Questions poored into his mind. Who had killed West? Why hadn't anyone else arrived at the clearing? Who would he see next?

The last question disappeared as he reached another clearing. In the middle of it lay Zeal. John tried to piece together what happened. Someone in the unit had gotten fed up, killed West, and ran for it. Zeal got in the way, and went down to. Maybe, but John didn't think anyone in the unit was capable of murder like that.

Suddenly, Zeal's 'corpse' groaned. John looked at the Klatooinian more carefuly, and realized he had only been hit twice, both shots in the left leg.

"Zeal!" John called out, "Zeal! Can you hear me?"

"Uhh..." the soldier groaned again, "John...?"

"Yeah, its me," John said, "What happened? Who shot you?"

"I-I don't know..." Zeal replied, coughing, "I was...I was hit from behind..."

"@#%$," John muttered to himself, "Alright, Zeal. I'm gonna get you out of here."

"West..." Zeal groaned, "Wheres the Major?"

"Hes dead, Zeal," John replied, grimacing, "He died right before you got hit..."

"Y-y-you..."

"No, not me," John said, "Someone else. I don't know who. Nobody was there when I found him."

"Where are the others?" Zeal asked, his voice now in a whisper.

"I don't know," John replied, "I don't know..."

Anderson grinned "Marin Faulker? @#%$, if I'd have known it was you, I'd have snuck up on the flank and kung-fooed my self in here, not just walked in. Thanks for the introduction."

He then nodded to everyone else he could see. "But my temple comment still stands. Still, at least you've got style. Clean, affordable, good location, You'll just need some green netting just in case the Empire sends out spies with one or more working eyes looking for you." Still grinning, he adds "Oh, and I met some of your boys out in the jungle, I've seen brighter but they seem nice enough. Hope they didn't get lost. And I crashed my ship into some dirt piles in the forrest, I hope they weren't going to be used for something. Hold on."

One of his pockets was beeping. As he reached in to them, he brought out a collection of bits of paper, string, small pieces of food, a mouse, three guns of different varieties, and finally finds his watch. Scraping mud off of it, he looks at the time.

"About time for dinner, by my watch. What sort of stuff you guys got here at the rebellion to eat?"

Riley was a rotund, crew-cut, plaid sports-coated kind of scientist, shy in person but not on the Comm, deeply conservative. He had always been critically deficient in the humor department. He had never pulled Raven's leg on anything.

"What do they think happened?"

"Nobody knows, Nobody's even venturing a guess. Theres going to be a big press conferance here tommorow."

Raven pinched his cheek speculatively.

"Did it explode? Something hit it?"

"Can't say, can we?"

He could almost hear a smile in his voice. Riley did not smile unless he was faced with a truly bizarre problem.

"No data. I've got about seventy other people to call now. Keep in touch, Raven."

"Thanks."

He hung up, still pinching his cheek. The smoothness of the moment by the river had passed. He stood by the phone for a moment, frowning, then walked into the master bedroom.

Charlot reached high to rummage through the top shelf of the bedroom closet, Marty at her heels.

In their Seventeen years together, his wife had moved over the line from voluptuos to zoftig to plump. The physical contrast between Raven and Charlot, all curves and fulfilling grace, was obvious; equally obvious was the fact that what others saw in them, they did not see in each other. She tended to wear folk art print dresses, and much of her wardrobe was a stylish aquiescence to matronliness.

Yet in his thoughts, she was eternally as he had first seen her, walking up a sunny white-sanded beach in the southern portion of the continent, wearing a brief one piece swimsuit, her long black hair loose in the breeze. She had been the sexiest woman he had ever known, and she still was.

She pulled down the bubous canvas Astroscan bag. Bending over, she rummaged for the box of eyepieces under a pile of shoes.

"What did Riley want?" She asked

"Tevis's disappeared"

"Tevs?" Charlot smiled over her shoulder and straightened, passing the bag to him.

"Tevis. Renal's fifth moon."

"Oh. How?"

Raven made a face then shrugged. He took the telescope and its painted grey metal base and carried them outside, Holt snorting at his heels.

"Uh-oh, kids. Dad's in robot mode," Charlot called from the bedroom. "What did Riley really say?" She followed him down the stairs and onto the lawn, where he pressed the telescope base into the soft grass and soil.

"That's what he really said," Raven replied, dropping the red ball of the reflector gently into into the three hollowed branches of the base.

"Its not secret or anything is it?"

"I truly doubt such a thing can be kept secret," Raven replied, peering into one eyepiece.

"Can you see Renal from here? I mean, tonight?"

"I think so, Tevis is one of the most prominent moons, spotted in the early days of telescopes-"

Raven had Renal in view, a bright spot in the middle of the grey-blue field. Stars formed a resolving fog in the background. Two pointlike moons, one bright and one quite dim, were clearly visible on one side of the brighter planet. The dim one was either Ioto or Vallio, the brightest probably Ganisto. The third was either in transit across the planet or in Renal's cone of shadow, eclipsed-- or behind the planet, occulted. He tried to remember the laws regarding the first three moons:
The longitude of the first satellite, minus three times that of the second, plus twice that of the third, is always equal to half the circumferance...
He had memorized that in highschool, but it did him a fat lot of good now. He murmured the consequences of the law to himself:
"The first three moons-that includes Tevis- can never be all eclipsed at once, nor can they all be in front of the disk at once... ah hell."
He couldnt remember the details. He would just have to sit and wait for the four to be visible all at once, or for the three to make an appearance

"Can we see?" Marty said

"Sure. I'm going to be out here all night, probobaly."

Peering into her quarters, Damalis checked to see if anyone was there. Someone named Davis was supposed to be, but she was beginning to get the impression she'd gotten there before he did. Or she did, Damalis didn't quite catch which the person was. Either way, the room seemed empty now.

Stepping inside, Damalis hesitated, still nervous about doing the wrong thing. Then she laughed. If it was possible to do something horrible from her own room, then she might as well pack up and leave now, because she'd certainly cause the entire rebellion to collapse if she ever left the room. It wasn't a bad room, contrary to the popular misconception about how picky she was Damalis had spent time in worse, and she found it more than adequate. Not that she wasn't surprised to have a room at all. She'd assumed she'd be spending her time here living out of her own ship. It was more than suited to the task and Damalis had seen to it that it was very comfortably decorated for her. The Delirious was a small ship by most standards, or it seemed so sitting next to other ships anytime she landed it somewhere, and she'd outfitted it to sleep in. In fact, Damalis knew that if she was uncomfortable here in this room, she'd just move back out to her ship.

Searching the room, Damalis was glad to find it's own, if small, bathroom. She freshened up, taking her time to give Davis a few more moments to arrive. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn't eaten yet today, too nervous, so she made the decision to head for the cafeteria once she was finished. Taking her hair down, the long golden length of it spilled down her back and actually ended a few inches lower than her skirt. This always amused her when she wore mini's, her hair being longer than her skirts, but Damalis knew she'd probably cut it some time soon. It always grew horribly fast, sometimes it seemed abnormally so, and since she'd gotten so busy with her business she hadn't any time to trim it proper. Not that she didn't like it, however. Being a natural blond had it's perks, as she could dye it any color under the rainbow without stripping her natural color off first, but after a few youthful disasters with black and red hair coloring, Damalis preferred her own golden color. When you were a blond you got used to the jokes, but then, she'd never really been bothered by those. She'd always felt she was living proof that the jokes were right!

As she walked out of the bathroom, Damalis removed the well tailored gray jacket, managing with only a little difficulty as it was cut very tight, then headed over to a closet. While she was prepared to ignore the drab colors in the room, Damalis wasn't about to let it get messy. She'd always been a master of controlled confusion, but her clothes were never abused. The jacket was hung up carefully and neatly in the closet and, while she might hang some scarfs for some splashes of brightness, the rest of her clothes would be put away as soon as possible. With a sigh, Damalis scratched at the wall, checking to see if the color was just dirty, or really that shade. This had been one of her problems as a Jedi padawan. Damalis craved color. She had to have it about her, on her, on the walls, every conceivable place she could get it, Damalis wanted it there. But as a padawan, she had to wear her muck colored robes and a designated uniform of sorts. Her good mood had begun to falter almost immediately and over a period of time, she'd sunk into a depression that had seriously put a dent in her ability to learn.

Damalis realized that the problem had been solely in her head. She didn't need bright colors or clothes to be happy, she just thought she did. But it was a neurosis she didn't want to get rid of. She liked being colorful and bright. Sparkly was even a word used to describe her a lot, even if she'd toned it down for the meeting here on Yavin. So while she could put up with just about anything for long periods of time, having to stare at a drab colored room wasn't one of them. Hence the decoration aboard her ship looked more like a maharaja's harem than a space vessel. Either way, Damalis liked it.

With the jacket gone, she was pretty close to sparkly again, as the bright turquoise blouse she'd been wearing underneath it was an eye popping color. It was lovely on her of course, making her skin tone look clear and smooth and causing the white blond highlights in her hair to stand out. It amused Damalis to wear something so bright and sparkly under her suit, but now she was tired of the jacket and ready to relax more. No one could relax wearing what they considered a stiff's suit, even if Damalis' version of it was far from stiff like, so she was glad to liven her outfit up. It was a small problem Damalis possessed, focusing on her outfit instead of what was bothering her, but as it had made her a wealthy and somewhat recognized authority of clothes and fabrics, she wasn't about to knock it.

But she was fully prepared to knock off the hunger that was bothering her. Damalis had a full blown hyper metabolism, which meant she ate big meals at least three times a day, making her a lucky witch. She could eat like a rancor and stay slim without a hint of exercise, but the downside of it was she had to eat. Skipping meals could quickly turn her into a very unhealthy rack of bones in only a week or more. So she was seriously debating whether to just take off for the cafeteria, or wait on Davis a little longer. She hated the idea of leaving before the fellow got there, possibly getting him in trouble somehow ... so she waited just a little longer.