The Rebel Faction

Elsewhere; in the Colonies…

“Sir,” called a Delta unit from the sitting room adjoining the observation deck in the offices Vice Commodore Lance Shipwright high above the planet Gestalt, aboard the orbital construction facility dubbed Shipwright Shipyards. “Your tea is prepared.”

Lost in his thoughts, Lance Shipwright did not immediately reply. This prompted his assistant to call again, though somewhat louder with the second utterance. Sufficient to rouse the man from his musings, Lance Shipwright pulled his eyes away from the starry panorama spread out before him.

The observation deck, located on one of the stations most protrusive of protrusions, was currently oriented away from Gestalt I and hidden in the shadow of the planets night side presented an unparalleled view of the heavens. It was here that the Vice Commodore came, infrequently, to ponder the mysteries of life and grapple with the issues facing the Colonies. Due to his often hectic schedule, the Vice Commodore had opted to maintain offices throughout the Colonies as the business of governing often called him to relocate from one post to the next so as to be best positioned to address any problems that might arise. Indeed, during the restructuring of the Colonial Defense Forces he had spent a great much time at Camp Mar-Veil and Lucerne Academy meeting with the heads of the various divisions of the CD and, as the new mandate called for immediate starfighter wings to replace the decommissioned ships being replaced, he had also been spending an exorbitant amount of time amongst the Shipyards.

In fact it was due to these very changes within the Colonial defenses that had kept Lance from attending the summit himself and it was upon these things that he had been caught dwelling when tea was set. He sighed and moved into the sitting room.

Casually dressed, Lance had donned a pair of simple black slacks and a tailored shirt in anticipation of his guest’s arrival. His hair was combed back, away from his face and bola, in the style of the Gestalt Colonies, was slung about his breast. The Imperial cross, beset by the Star of Liberty, reflected the brilliant white glow of the sitting room which itself was done almost exclusively in ivory white tones.

Sat upon one of the couches with knees crossed and palms resting neatly in his lap, was Colonial Minister Paula Ramos and to her immediate left, though still standing, stood Admiral Ruben Mar-Veil. Each smiled at the Vice Commodore as he entered.

Paula Ramos, as befit her station, was wearing a form fitting black jumper that was cut in the military fashion but utterly failing in its efforts to disguise her delicious curves and had gathered her hair in a bun at the back of her head. A pair of delicate, silver rimmed glasses sat on her nose and she peered over them deviously at Lance.

“Come,” she patted an open space beside her. “Sit.”

Admiral Mar-Veil, or Ruben as he insisted he be called informally, was dressed as always in the uniform of his station. The blue and black affair flattered his still fit figure and accentuated the powerful pectorals that the Admiral so prized. He was, in every way, the celebrated icon of pride in the CDF and every solider under his command revered him thusly. Alongside Captain D'Foose (not currently present) he was a hero of the Colonies and respected military commander.

“Hi Lance,” he said with a wink.

“Hey,” replied Lance simply while sinking, heavily, into the available space aside Colonial Minister Ramos. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Ramos began. She paused to lean forward and collected her tea (prepared accordingly by the Delta unit only moments earlier) which she then balanced in her lap while quietly stirring the amber liquid with a spoon. “What is up is Caleb Logan. We’ve just discovered that the Onyxians sent him as their envoy to the Cerean Summit.”

The Vice Commodore simply shrugged, “So?”

“Did you get my dossier?” Admiral Mar-Veil asked.

“Haven’t read it yet,” supplied Lance by way of an explanation. “I’ve been too busy reorganizing our shipments from the Coalition and Confederation to this new starfighter program. Was it important? I figured if it really mattered you would have just called me up…”

“Lance,” interjected the Colonial Minster while fishing through her own documents and simultaneously balancing her tea in an act of extreme gymnastic balance. She flashed a picture at him, “This is Caleb Logan.”

“Fuck,” declared the Vice Commodore. “I guess I’d better read that dossier…”

Caleb hid his surprise at the sudden move by Captain d'Foose, but only with much difficulty. She was very attractive and unassuming, yet Caleb had expected her to allow Ambassador Droll to do most of the talking.

He turned his head toward her, but did not look at her, "Escape tactic?" He spoke in a tone low enough that only she could hear.

She said nothing, but an almost imperceptible nod confirmed what he was asking. Caleb cast a sideways glance at the Ambassador. He had met many people of his type, and Caleb being a military man, had nothing but distaste for the type.

But nevertheless, he couldn't help but enjoy himself, and the company of this attractive woman as they went through a rather boring meeting.

The Kashan delegation was not far away, and Caleb mentally reviewed what he knew about them, which wasn't much. He knew much about their military capability, from intel briefings, but the actual people, not so much.

They reached where Commodore Lucerne and his companion were standing, and as usual, Ambassador Droll stepped forward, "Commodore..."

Captain d'Foose interrupted before her portly escort could complete his introductions.

“This is Captain Caleb Logan,” she said of the man on her arm, “of the Onyxian Commonwealth.”

She smiled, “now that we have all been introduced to one another perhaps it would behoove us to consider the issue at hand in somewhat less formal surroundings. It is not as though the idea is without intrigue…”

In all honesty, however, d'Foose wondered what role the Colonies would play, or what role they could even be expected to play. Theirs was a small, concentrated union composed largely of humans who had, for one reason or another, been drawn to the solace and security offered by the Colonies through these, their formative stages. Her people (or the people she had come to call her own) had chosen to abandon whatever roots they had, displaced by war or squeezed through the grip of a rapidly shrinking Galactic frontier, and make a future for themselves among the planets of the Gestalt star system alongside others with similar stories of their own. As a result the Colonies had become increasingly isolated and their contribution to the Coalition had begun to wane despite the heavy demands placed upon them. Now they were being presented with the idea of extending themselves towards solidifying the Western Provinces.

“Although I have to wonder… what role can the Gestalt Colonies be expected to play in this grand campaign?”

Sensing the change in the conversation and quick to pounce on anything that alluded to the political, Ambassador Droll interjected.

“The ramifications of such a national development are profound, to say the least and while the Colonies would be glad to contribute what we can there are questions that have to be asked.”

“During this period of economic examination throughout the Coalition where are the funds for this going to come from?”

He inflated his chest, “the Colonies can continue to provide the Coalition with the military starships that we have been supplying since the inception and acceptance of our membership within the Coalition and previously under the banner of Galactic Technologies. Our population expansion seems to have leveled out, however; and we cannot be expected to provide additional troops for the on-going war efforts.”

“The Gestalt Colonies have additionally restructured our existing military as we have secured the borders of our territory within the Gestalt star system. Through our trade agreements with Stellar Enterprises we have been able to develop numerous mining and refinery factories within our system and these contribute considerably to our ability to provide the Coalition with starships. But beyond the contribution of refine materials, I do not see what help the Colonies can be expected to provide.”

(Hold on, reworking post)

Pro Moon's eyes lit up at the words could be based anywhere.

Pro Moon got up from his chair and moved closer to the proceedings. "Have any of you visited the West before?"

With the exception of Dawara, most could only answer in the negative. Pro Moon smiled. "We're the forgotten corner of the Coalition, which means most of our resources are very much intact. We've tasted the profits of economic initiatives without being touched by war or hardship, which is why we can afford such a huge undertaking."

"It might benefit us all to commit to a unified economic base like this, maybe consolidate more of the banking and business sectors - although the meat of that work would have to be handled in meetings with business leaders like Brandt and Stellar. A stock exchange though, that's the sort of thing that we could all easily benefit from right now. And if you're worried for its' security..."

Captain Ion, the Tynnian officer of greatest renown in the West, leaned in to cover military matters from the natives' perspective. Ion had fought the Empire at Tynna and was widely respected for both this and his easygoing attitude towards command.

It was interesting to see the different delegates introduce themselves to one another. He slipped quickly into the conversation

"We don't lack for manpower here in the west. Cerea, Riflor, Firrerre... even Rattatak, although most of the population is still using sticks and stones. What we do need is material and experienced trainers, which the Colonies and Confederacy could each respectively provide."

He quickly eyed the assembled delegates as he had their attention, and was heatened by what he saw. Here, he could see some of the best and brightest of the Coalition - people of stern discipline, talent, and skill! It was humbling to ask for their help, but the captain was careful not to let his feelings slip into his words.

"There's a lot of military minds here today, so I'm glad to speak about this with you now. With your help, the West could become a safe spot in the galaxy for people like us, for the Coalition."

Suddenly breaking up the conversation was a short rumble. The chief Azguardian delegate, Yolem, had just pushed his chair back to get up. His head brushed against the ceiling of the meeting room. "What can we do?"

Ion paused, rubbing his snout as he tossed the question around. "Well, what can you do?"

The Azguardian commander considered his answer carefully before replying. "I guess we could... also teach? We Azguardians fight differently than the people of Kashan, it's good to know more than one way to fight."

"Well we can't learn everyone's combat style," said Ion. "What about Logan's treaty? What do you think about it?"

Yolem slowly sat back down in his chair. "I don't know that much about stocks, I'll get back to you on that one."

Ion nodded. "Right... So, what about everyone else?"