The Rebel Faction

Wilkar’s jaw dropped like a super star destroyer, crashing into a half finished death star.

The admiral was notorious throughout the armed forces as an insatiable smartass, but today, on a cold landing platform, everything changed. Wilkar had met his match in the crusty, old, son of a bitch that was Grand Moff Azrael Zell.

Wilkar exchanged glances with Major-General Rollins, who was all but curling up into the fetal position.

The Army… what an excuse…

Wilkar then noticed that Captain Tillis was trying, very unsuccessfully; to not reveal how truly repulsed she was by Grand Moff Zell. Her face seemed to change from a façade of quiet professionalism to horror in a matter of seconds, then back to professionalism and then back to horror again.

I knew she liked them young. Or younger…He pondered as he vainly tried to tuck a graying hair into his service cap.

The first official meeting between the Commonwealth and the New Order was on the brink of becoming a circus.

The kind of circus that you hear about people getting stabbed for a credit chip, not the kind you see on VNN with the pretty trapeze artists.

"Is she cute, Admiral?"

Wilkar stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at Zell.

“I honestly could not answer that Grand Moff Zell. I’ve never met her, but I have been told she is of the highest caliber. Though, I’m sure when Mr. Vinda found out you would be coming, he got her off planet.”

Satisfied, Wilkar continued walking towards the transport that would take them to their meeting with Mr. Vinda.

“Supreme Commander Kaine, Major-General Rollins will take you to the Trade Hall for your meeting with Mr. Vinda. Grand Moff Zell, I’ve been instructed to give you a tour of Bonadan.”

"Very well. Come on, you nationalization dodging son of a rancor's whore. Let's see if your defenses can impress me."


Flabergasted.

Bonadan Trade Hall - Private lounge




As the door to the huge windowed lounge slid aside, the two men came face to face with each other once more…

Instantly memories of their last encounter flashed through Vinda's mind…

Dressed impeccably, the businessman greeted the Imperial as he entered …


“Welcome to Bonadan, Grand Marshall…”

“Would you care for something to eat or drink?…”

Kaine simply raised his hand and shook his head to decline…

…and as the Imperial entered the room, Vinda, with a quick cusary nod indicated for his aides to leave them in private.


They were simply just two men now.


Vinda couldn’t help but size up the man standing before him, he looked older now, a few more lines here and there, but then again he wasn’t getting any younger either…

The corporate leader gestured for the visitor to take a seat upon the lounge’s comfortable chairs…

Vinda took the initiative…

“I have to confess, I had been expecting a visit from the Empire at some point…but I did not expect it to be from yourself…I’m flattered”

His smile contained the hint of mischief as he continued…

“The Empire must be worried”

Bonadan Trade Hall - Private lounge


A smile tugged at the Supreme Commander's lips. "I am supposed to tell you that sheltering the 'usurper' of the Hapan Throne, Dakkon Darksword, will provoke a swift and terrible justice upon your head from the 'true and rightful' heir, Lupercus Darksword."

He sat back in his lounge chair and chuckled softly, "Though Lupercus is enjoying his Governorship just a little too much right now to really care about Hapes." He shot a look towards Vinda, "I guess a hedonistic lifestyle will do that, no?"

"Why am I here?"

The Imperial seemed to ponder the question a moment taking in the details of the room. Confortable. Designed to put guests at ease. Allowing Bonadan to fleece their credits and leave the hapless victim smiling all the while, no doubt.

"Why am I here, Mr. Vinda... why indeed."

As if to himself, Kaine mused out loud, "Seth Vinda. Power of the Corporate Sector. Dependable. Reputable. A rock in times of distress and a symbol of order in an otherwise disorderly galaxy.

Vinda's word is his bond. A fact demonstrated by the Hapans wanting your signature above all others in your Hapan Accords. Quite a political coup, if I do say so myself.


Why am I here?


Because you decided that instead of one reasonable opinion ruling over all, that every crackpot and closet politician should have a voice in determining the course of this entire region of the galaxy."


Before Vinda could respond one way or another, Kaine shrugged. "I am sure you have your reasons. Altruism, even foolish atruism is reason enough, I suppose. I don't agree with this new system you're supporting but in the end, history judges us all anyway."


Kaine's grin turned sharp. "And since we are writing that history, it makes sense that for this little part in history, we make sure to back someone we.." Kaine paused, "..dare I say, trust?"

Shifting slightly, he continued, "I believe your part in bringing Hapes into the Commonwealth alone will skyrocket your political bid to victory. But in a democratic organization, getting to the top is not usually hard. You just need alot of money and something that captures the attention and admiration of the mortals below. No, in a democratic system, the trick is staying on top.

Of what good is it to deal with you and gain certain...understandings.. if you are not going to be in power next year?"

Kaine shrugged, "An Imperial needs a rock to lean on. Not water."


"So why am I here?

Why to ensure that there remains a rock in this part of the galaxy to depend on. I know I can trust you not to fall for the Coalition's tricks and insatiable desire for warfare. Just as I know you will not fall for our own," his smile grew wider, "tricks."


"I respect intelligence. Even if that intelligence leads someone along a different path from mine.


Mr. Vinda, this Commonwealth is an unknown quantity. It represents an big glaring question mark on the galactic map because we are not sure if we can trust your people to be as .... reasonable as you are. Therefore, it stands to reason that it is in our best interests to ensure that, if it is your desire to level the field of Corporate Sector politics and share that field with every Johnny-come-lately, you remain in a position of influence for a good long while.

In a democratic society, the name of the game is not power but influence. Wield the most influence and you will move the democratic gears into action. Slowly and, in my opinion, inefficiently but moving nonetheless.


So I would like to support your foundation of influence and keep you in power." Kaine raised up hand, "I am not talking about illicit funds or anything illegal or thinking of some 'dastardly Imperial plot'."

He leaned forward, "I am talking about some real political capital that will pay off dividends in your election and relection efforts.

I am talking about proposals of the kind that only you will be able to make because the Empire will deal with no other representative but you.


I am talking about Aargau joining our League of Nations. A group of independent planets that are working toward a more stable Core where they do not have to surrender their soul to the Empire or Coalition to enjoy a protected existence. It is a project we are working with that seems to be working. The Empire apportioned some ships to serve as patrol craft for each of these worlds but is merely a member of the greater League. The League enjoys it's own status on Coruscant and meets in the old Senate Rotunda.

I am sure, stuck so far away from the center of this Commonwealth leaves many planetary leaders on Aargau worried about their chances in such proximity to potential conflicts between the Empire and Coalition or other misled people.

I am talking about giving you hard data on the GLF, which I am sure you will find very interesting, and the next key to not only routing them but ensuring they gain no foothold in this," he waved his hands, "as Zell would say, virgin territory."


Kaine looked rueful, "You know, I think I could use that drink about now. I think we have quite a bit to talk about."





As Admiral Wilkar began to lead the codgy old Moff towards their planetary batteries, the old man scowled.

"NO! You nerf-headed fool of a rancor's turd! Let's see what you have INDOORS! Not out in that kriffin cold!"

The Casque and Mug – Commonwealth Flag Officer’s Bar


“The Casque and Mug? What kind of a place is this, Cineburg?” complained Zell, his eyes darting back and forth as if some Jawa in a toga holding the secrets of the universe would reveal that the Emperor Hyfe was really Regrad in disguise.

Wilkar took off his service hat, took a seat at one of the bar’s booths, turning to Zell he said, “I never said that you had to come with me. You could--”

“An Imperial Grand Moff roaming the streets of this fucking ice ball? Think bigger, nerfscum! I could go see that little Captain of yours... bet she's a tiger in bed.. Of course, you're probably sweet on her which makes you a fucking idiot and would probably have me shot as a spy anyway. So, so much for that great fucking idea. So, just go get me a drink!”

Wilkar left the booth and made his way through the sparsely populated bar. It was midday, after all. Most officers were at Starfighter Command, a part of the General Staff or serving his or her shift on one of Bonadan's orbital battlestations. Some officers remained, however, enjoying the priviledge of rank by having a light cocktail with midday meal.

“Give me one Graverobber, and how about a...," he turned to the old man seated, "… Defeated Imperial for that old crone back there,” ordered Wilkar.

“Is that all sir?” asked Staff Sergeant tending the bar.

“Uhm…” Wilkar leaned over the bar. “You got any Deranin or Exodorep back there?” questioned Wilkar half jest, half serious.

“Excuse me sir?” asked the Sergeant, obviously confused by the Admiral’s reference to prescription sleep aids.

“Just kidding, I’ll just take these drinks.”

Wilkar sat Zell’s drink in front of him, and quickly knocked back his own. Zell took one gulp and spit it out all over the table.

“What the fuck is this shit, Cineburg? I ask you to get me a drink, and you bring back this pussy shit? This is about as weak as your fucking courage! I would expect better out of a bona fide alien hater like you, Cineburg, but you are a nationalization dodging sob. Don't stand there looking stupid, go get me another!”

Wilkar returned to the bar.

“Two more Graverobbers, please,” said Wilkar, exasperated. He was already beginning to feel the affects of the very hard alcohol.

Sensing Wilkar’s situation, the bar tender already had them ready. The Vice Admiral walked back to the booth.

Zell was feeling magnanimous, “Should we toast, Cineburg?”

“Sure Zell… sure…”

“To your kriffin’ cold, ass backwards civil rights lovefest of a Commonwealth!” toasted Zell, in his raspy voice.

“And to your sadistic, military dictatorship of an Empire!” returned Wilkar.

The digs at each other's governments seemed to roll off as the two attended to their drinks. Wilkar watched in amazement as Zell knocked back the double in one gulp.

“See Cineburg, let me give your shit-for-brains approach to life some advice. When you get to my age, make every drink a good one, because god damn, it could very well be your last. So no more pussy shit,” he added

Wilkar nodded. Zell took another pull on his drink.

"This is a good drink, Cineburg. It makes me feel like Regrad the Azguard came up behind me and kicked me right in the balls. You're not completely worthless Wilks; don't let anyone but me tell you otherwise," he add, clearly as an afterthought.

"Thank you Zell, you're too kind to me. Keep those drinks coming Sergeant,” he yelled over to the bar.

"Damn right I'm too kind. I give you more than you deserve, Cineburg, and is it fucking cold in here or is just me? Tell that lazy shit bartender to turn up the heat! It's colder than a Coalition whore in here! What kind of atmosphere is that for a fucking bar? Your fucking Commonwealth is so kriffin backwards, it's a wonder you can even travel at light speed!"

Ishara considered what her friend asked. The kind of answers Natalya needed could not be just answered in a cantina by any of the locals. She needed someone more familiar with Brion.

An idea came to Ishara. "There's an elder who lives here. It almost seems like he's been on Brion forever. I've never spoken to him personally, but we could start with him."

Ishara tapped on Natalya's shoulder and began to lead the way. "He's on the far side of Masada in the older district. It won't take long to get there."



As they walked, Ishara realized she had a comfort level with Natalya she rarely ever had with anyone else. She found herself just talking.

"My sister and I were seperated at a very young age and left for adoption. I was brought to Coruscant and she was brought to Naboo where we lived very different lives. I'm not sure why were were seperated, but in her research she discovered something. A Jedi brought us to the adoption centers we were left at. She also discovered that our parents were deceased at the time we were left."

Ishara laughed and shoke her head. "I can't believe I'm telling you all of this Nat!"


Ishara and Natalya had been walking for quite sometime when they had finally come to decrepit building. It looked like it had been here for years and was in need of being torn down. They walked up to the door.

"This is it Nat."