The Rebel Faction

Caleb smiled at Droll. The Ambassador's face was turning quite red the more animated he became.

The young Logan stepped forward a bit to interject himself more into the conversation, "I believe that the our 'aggression' toward the Empire will be short lived. As far as our defending ourselves from their aggression, I cannot tell you how important our military is to us. How can we not defend ourselves, Ambassador?"

Before the Gestalt man could reply, Caleb held up his hand, "I am not finished."

"The costs, would of course be, time and money. But we are hardly creating something out of nothing. Our western worlds already have agreements between each other, and already do much business in their respective regions. The only thing we are doing is solidifying those mutual agreements and giving them an official charter. And I would not remind you that those worlds are all in favor of this proposal."


"And I believe we have already stated the objective of this deal. Unifying those worlds under one banner, one nation, and allowing them to develop themselves into a single, cohesive military and economic force will strengthen that side of our Coalition immeasurably.

"And this nation will be like any one of us. It will function under the Coalition charter, just like the Onyxian Commonwealth, The Confederation, and the Colonies."

He let out a big breath and smiled at the Gestalt Capitan on his arm.


(PS - Beff is the greatest, ever!)

The Past

Unnamed New Alliance Research Base


"Regent, please bend down and provide us with a retinal scan..."

Logan eyed the small piece of machinery that slid smoothly out of the wall to the left of the blast door, "Sure it's safe?" He asked apprehensively.

The security technician behind a foot-thick wall of blaster proof transparisteel, nodded emotionlessly, "Absolutely, sir. Please bend forward."

Casting a sideways look at Mahk and Ferus Neychev, Logan bent down and allowed the red laser to pass over his eyes several times, trying his best not to squint.

After a moment of consideration, the retinal device blinked green and the blast doors opened slowly. Logan couldn't help rubbing his eyes, it was pure reflex.

The group was greeted by an smiling older man in a white lab coat, and what Logan believed was blaster-resistant flexarmor, "Welcome Regent Logan! My name is Dr. Grigorin, and I am the lead researcher here."

The scientist offered his hand, which Logan accepted, "How has the testing gone?" The Regent asked.

"Well. So well in fact that I want you to see it." Grigorin responded enthusiastically.

Mahk shifted uneasily, and Logan sensed Neychev's apprehension as well, "I thought you were still having trouble with the prototype." He said.

"We were," Grigorin replied, "But a recent breakthrough has allowed us to modify the cerebral processor, which serves to erase the... behavioral problems the unit was having..."

"Behavioral problems?" Logan asked as Grigorin lead the group deeper into the restricted areas, toward the armor-plated test cell where the "Unit" was being kept.

"Yes. With the processor not working properly, the unit reverted to its basic programming, such as it's self-preservation protocols. It believed everyone was a threat, and... responded as such..." Grigorin said, his voice trailing off at the end with what Logan knew to be a hint of sadness.

Logan nodded soberly, "How many people did it kill?"

"Thirty seven...including some very close...colleagues."

Logan wondered what he meant by that, but decided not to ask. Grigorin seemed very touchy on the subject, and Logan knew it was best to leave it alone, "But you believe you have solved these problems?"

"Yes sir. With the new enhancements, the processor is performing perfectly, and the Unit as so far responded and obeyed all audio and visual commands, as well as some sent directly to it's main computer."

They were now walking toward a large square room, which despite it's size, somehow seemed small in the huge hangar-like facility they were in. The room had a single door, which looked like it had more armor plating than most Star Destroyers. There was no window.

"Is that it?" Logan asked, indicating the room.

"Yes sir. That is Test Cell One."

They turned to the left and made their way up a flight of stairs to what could only be described as a control room. Panels, consoles, and blinking lights everywhere, joined with dozens of holoscreens.

Grigorin took them over to one of those screens, and indicated the display, "Regent Logan, may I introduce Unit One."


The droid was more or less shaped like a human, perhaps a near-human. It was standing stock-straight, like a soldier at the position of attention. It was perhaps two meters tall, and looked almost like a regular protocol droid, with an unfinished-looking face, strange reddish eyes, and a gleaming silver outer body. Other than that, there was nothing about this droid that would suggest that a billion dollars of New Alliance money had been spent on it's concept, research, and finally, production.

Logan frowned, as did Captain Neychev. He turned back to Grigorin, who was beaming with pride, "Thats it?"

Grigorin nodded excitedly, "Yes sir. We just finished the coating today. The silver body shell looks just like any of the millions of droids out there, but this is some of the new self-replicating fiberweave reflective armor plating."

Logan frowned, "In Basic, Doctor."

Grigorin smiled as if he had been waiting his entire life to explain the armor, "It's self-replicating, so if the armor gets pitted by blasterfire or something else, it will rebuild and fully repair itself, provided it is supplied with enough fiberweave reserves. Once those reserves are depleted, then Unit One will begin taking damage. However, we have compensated for even this..."

Logan and everyone else present waited.

"We have created possibly the most agile droid soldier since General Grevious himself. Unit One can jump six to eight times higher than a normal human, and with the way the armor is built, he can attach himself to walls, ceilings... just about anything. So in order for the fiberweave to be depleted, he would have to be hit first."

Logan nodded, and continued to examine the droid, which to the naked eye, looked to be completely lifeless.

And as he did so, the droid turned it's head suddenly, and looked directly into the holocamera.

And Logan could have swore he saw it smile.




The Present


"Do you know what is going to happen next, Regent?"

The shadow was sitting at a small desk in a windowless room, and across from him was former Regent Joren Logan.

Logan looked like he was at death's door. His clothing was torn, his hair was long from months of being uncut. He had a beard that threatened to extend to the top of his chest if left unshaven. His eyes were downcast, and his body generally showed the unmistakable signs of torture.

The shadow, on the other hand, was well dressed, like always, in a tailored suit made out of shimmersilk. A rancor-skin jacket, and black nerfhide gloves completed the outfit.

The shadow's mouth was set to a cruel expression, as it had been ever since Logan had first seen him. His eyes were hidden in the darkness, as always.

Logan did not answer the initial question, and instead, just sat there, eyes down toward the ground, his face as blank as a master sabbacc player.

The shadow waiting a moment, before sighing softly, "The answer is, of course, you die."

Logan still remained silent.

"I grow tired of asking you this... this question that I have been asking for months now. This will be the last time."

He paused, as if expecting Logan to suddenly reveal everything.

"Where is the research base... that produced the war droid known as 'Unit One'?"

Logan seemed like he never heard anything, as if he could hear nothing.

The shadow sighed again, and nodded once, indicating that he had mentally washed his hands of the wretched human sitting in front of him. He stood up and walking to the door, and after inputting his password, he stepped through the doorway.

"You're sitting on it."

The shadow stopped. He did not turn around at first, as could have been expected. He just stood there, as if computing what he had just heard. After a long moment, he slowly turned around, "What did you say?"

"The base. You've been sitting on it all along." Logan said. The words seemed to be forced out, and truth be told, they were the first words he had spoken in three months.

The shadow retook his seat, and stared at Logan with suspicion, "What do you mean, sitting on it?"

"You speak as if you didn't know."

The shadow stared, trying to gauge Logan's intentions, "Excuse me?"

"You knew it was here on Ovise all along." Logan said, still not lifting his head, and continuing to stare at the ground.

The shadow smiled thinly, "And yet we are here."

"Why did you put me through all of that, then, if you already knew where the base, and thus Unit One, was?"

The shadow remained silent.

But Logan continued, "You were never sure of Unit One's existance, were you? Never sure if we actually built it, or just made up the ghostly rumor of development of an advanced war droid to place doubt in our then-enemies, the Rogue Empire."

The shadow placed his hands on the table, but allowed Logan to continue, "And you believed that if we really had developed and built it, that I would do everything in my power to prevent you from getting it. You wanted me to keep my mouth shut. And in turn, you have confirmed that Unit One did, in fact, exist."

The shadow spoke for the first time,"How did you know you were on Ovise One?"

"Did you want me to believe that some random civilization carved the caverns and tunnels? I founded the New Alliance, think I wouldn't recognize my own handpicked people's work?"

The shadow raised his hands, and clapped three times, "Congratulations. You are smarter than I thought you were. You figured this whole thing out."

"Theres more. There must be some reason for all of this. Why not just go in and see for yourself if it was truly in there? Why capture me to confirm it's existance?"

For the first time, Logan lifted his head and stared right into the eyes of the shadow, which seemed to slink back as if stung by a scorpion, "Because you can't get in to confirm it."

"The retinal scan is what got us, at first. Once we bypassed that, with great difficulty, we believed that we were home free. But the New Alliance really didn't want anyone who was not authorized to get into that facility."

The shadow smiled again, "I had to confirm that it was there before blowing the place up to get to that droid. There was no other way."

"That won't work." Logan said.

The shadow frowned, sensing he had lost control of the conversation. He tried to look confidant, but Logan just smiled slightly, "You just don't get it, do you? Do you have any idea what is keeping you out of there?"

"New Alliance safeguards probably. They are quite formidable."

"I'll get you in." Logan said.

The shadow frowned, "Why would you do that?"

"Because the droid was deactivated a long time ago. I doubt it is still functional."

"We can repair it."

"I doubt that. Nevertheless, the facility holds no value to me. Even if you obtain the droid, you will only be able to repair some of it's most basic functions. It will be a walking heap."

"We'll see. Get up, let's go get it."



***



The retinal scanner looked exactly like it head, years and years earlier, when he had first seen it. With the exception of some dust and debris, the whole entrance looked the same.

Logan leaned down and placed his chin in the holder, just like he had done all those years ago. But this time, there was no flinching, and no rubbing his eyes.

The blast door opened. The shadow smiled sadly,"It took us two months and thirteen of my best men to get through this door."

Logan ignored him.

A long hallway proceeded into the darkness. Logan knew there was one more door, this one more thick and unbreakable, waiting at the other end. The made it to the door in short order.

"This door requires me to punch in a security code." Logan said.

The shadow nodded, "We put in your code. We obtained it from some obscure New Alliance records that were only partially destroyed. The door won't open."

Logan knew that his old codes were among the highest kept secrets in the Old New Alliance military, and after the merger with the New Reoublic, they were kept locked away. After the Wrath Virus, the New Republic had destroyed all of their records as they abandoned Coruscant.

Apparently they didn't destroy everything.

"Yes, but what you don't know is this door was specially designed for my entry, and my entry only. It uses biometrics, and scans my brain as I enter the code. First, it confirms that it is me entering the code by a simply fingerprint scan, but what makes this door and security system unique is when it scans my brain, it looks for specific patterns to confirm that I am entering the code willingly."

The shadow seemed taken aback, "So it has to be entered of your own free will."

Logan nodded, "No coercion."

The shadow smiled, "Brilliant."

Logan turned, and entered the long code, which he had remembered for all these years.

With no fanfare, the door rumbled open. It was probably two meters thick, and had blast-resistant armor, confirming Joren's earlier statement that blasting the door would solve nothing.

The big cavern that was the research facility looked exactly as it had the last time Logan had been there. With research equipment everywhere, and some lights still blinking, confirming that most of the systems were merely on standby.

But something was different.



Bodies were strewn about, as if tossed around like rag dolls.


"Everywhere..." The shadow breathed.


They gingerly made their way over to the old control room above Test Cell One. The enforcers that accompanied the Shadow began reactivating the old monitors and holoscreens.

Logan stood slightly behind the shadow and the enforcers, his eyes glued to the old screens. The Shadow and his men leaned in closely as the main monitor switched on...


... and revealed an empty Test Cell.


Wheeling on the old man behind him, the Shadow delivered a sharp punch to the stomach, causing Logan to double over.

"Where is it, Logan?!?

Logan backed up, retreating toward the stairs. The Shadow moved forward and delivered a well-placed kick, sending Logan toppling down the stairs, and slamming him hard on the pavement of the cavern.

The Shadow slowly descended the stairs, "You lied to me, Logan. Somehow, and I don't know how, you lied to me. You made me believe the lie. The droid never existed! It was all a lie!"

Logan clutched his chest, and struggled to breathe.

The Shadow stared down at him with a mixture of contempt, and malice, "I have allowed this circus to go on long enough. You will now pay."

He pulled a vibrobladefrom a sheath in his sleeve and bent down, "Remember, Logan, we are all shadows."

He raised the blade...


...and in a movement faster than the naked eye, a sinewy, gray-skinned hand reached around, plucked the blade from the Shadow's hand, and plunged it into his heart.

Mahk's face looked like pure evil in the low light of the cavernous research facility.

Logan sat up, and watched the Noghri go to work. Displaying acrobatics unmatched by any other being Logan had ever seen, Mahk disposed of the rest of the enforces within a matter of seconds.

The Shadow was still alive, but was fading fast. Logan knelt down next to him, "I would like to introduce you to a special friend."

"Unit One. Step forward."

A two meter-tall droid stepped out of the darkness and stood before the dying Shadow.

"But... it didn't exist..."

Logan laughed, "Of course it did. But when our scientists devised the enhanced cerebral processor, they designed it with a wonderful element...

... you see, Unit One is programmed to obey one master at a time. But, in the event that that master is incapacitated, it will obey a secondary, which is appointed by the Master. Mahk did a wonderful job in that capacity."

The Shadow leaned back, lauhging and coughing up blood at the same time, "Logan... Logan..."

Joren leaned in.

"Remember..." The Shadow said, "We are all undying shadows... in a world of lights..."


And then he was gone.





Coalition Mon Calamari MC90 Cruiser Hexadragon - Imperial/Coalition Border Patrol (Moddell Sector)


Captain Buffooni leaned back into his chair, enjoying the beautiful view of the small nebula the Hexadragon was passing by.

Called "Bight Flower Nebula", it was one of the few enjoyable aspects in the life of the Border Patrol.

The Mon Cal cruiser was currently on a three-month deplyment rotation with several others in the fleet. The were tasked with patrolling the hyperlanes into Moddell, and watching for any Imperial aggression or activity.

But for the past two months, there had been none.

Quiet as a ghost.


"Captain... we are receiving an unusual signal from a planet nearby... Ovise One..."

Buffooni frowned. He had never heard of that planet, "What kind of unusual?"

"Old, kind sir. It's transmitting on an archaic frequency...old New Alliance channel."

Buffooni frowned, "New Alliance? What is it saying?"

"Distress call, sir."

Buffooni considered his options, his mandate was to patrol and be alert for Imperial activity, but if someone was hurt, the Coalition could not ignore it.

"Contact the Warfighter, have them take our station. Plot a course to this Ovise One...."

Pro Moon rubbed his chin, a sign of deep thought for him. He didn't like the sound of Chao's suggestion, but felt a debate on its' merits would drag on for hours. Best to change topics. "So..." he started. "We're at least talking about the politics problem - what sort of government we should have. But there's another problem we have yet to touch on..."

The graphical overlay of the Western Coalition suddenly lit up with green paths crisscrossin the screen. "Trade. Part of the reason to unite is economic. Easier trade regulations, unified dealings and resource management, that's standard stuff. Still, new trade routes, trade treaties, and reorganizing our suppliers and imports/exports need to be handled. Of course that's more work for bureaucrats than ambassadors, but if I recall, your people Chao are a great industrial society."

Pro Moon leaned back in his chair comfortably as he pointed at the map. "Most of the West lacks for strong industrial bases. Our population is only middling sized, much of it is not very advanced or established, really the export of our natural resources would be our best asset. Mayhaps there's room for trade between our people, eh?"

Once again, a rumbling from the far end of the table marked Yolem's return to the conversation. Pro Moon rolled his eyes and turned to the distant Azguardian. "What is it now, Yolem?"

"We're not getting anything done," the big Azguardian grumbled. He looked at Chao, and said "This one thinks we're undemocratic. The warrior from Onyx seems distracted, the man of the colonies argues needlessly with our purpose, and the Confederate, though I respect him for his prowess, seems over his head." Yolem crossed his arms. "You struggle to placate each delegation, and I will speak honestly and say I do not know all the issues we need to deal with to form a nation."

The ensuing awkward pause was just one in a series that had sprung up as each delegate had taken their turn upstaging and shocking the rest. Pro Moon felt a weariness kick in, but luckily he was saved by Ion who swept in.

"Sure, maybe that's true Yolem, but there's one issue we can all talk about." Ion glanced around the room a the rank insignias he saw members of each delegation wearing. "Let's be honest. It's what we're all most concerned about anyways - the military. The West's currently got a hodge-podge of ships and soldiers under a half-dozen commands. We consolidate that and the West can field a force as big as the East did in war-time." The clever Tynnian smiled at the various captains and commanders before him. "And we'd have a debt of gratitude to you guys for helping us out. Is that incentive enough to keep going?"

Yolem settled back down in his chair, his interest piqued. The attention of the conversation turned towards Ion briefly, attention which he used constructively. "First thing's first though, we'd need supplies, weapons, ships, and trainers. If each of you could supply instructors and organize weapons contracts from your own countries with ours, we could be up to galactic standard in no time. As for organization, there's plenty of local talent already, it's just a matter of putting it in order-"

"Something which the political body of the West could help with once we're established," said Pro Moon, slipping seemlessly back into form. "The captain is right. You are all military men - and women - so tell me, how does one build an army from a collection of soldiers and ships?"

In truth, d'Foose had ceased paying attention to the debate having discounted it as effete. She was, in fact, much more interested in the collegial Captain Caleb Logan and so much as made this evident by turning her gaze away from those speaking and, in stead, fixing her attention on the cut of his uniform and the shape of it around his chest arms, and dare she look, groin. The man was a paragon of male sex, or so she estimated, and the fact that he was accomplished militarily only served to further excite her imagination. The droll (excuse the pun) din of the political discussion held no interest for her and, in fact, bored her. This was not to say that she did not, nor could not appreciate the finer points of political maneuvering, it simply spoke to the generally self-possessed interests of the Colonial paradigm. Had the issue concerned Gestalt more directly, doubtless her words would be much more numerous and passionate. But they did not, and had the Ambassador anything to say about it, would not. Freed of her obligation to be attentive for the sake of something greater then herself, d'Foose decided that she would use the time that availed her to play with the Onyxian commander.

“Terribly boring,” she whispered in his ear, leaning on his shoulder to do so. Her hand perched on his thigh and so close did she come that her lips almost brushed his ear. “I can think of a dozen things I would rather be doing, from blasting raiders out of the stars to getting some serious sack time, or hitting the gym. Of course, combining all three; now that's where the real fun is.”

She giggled. She never giggled, but here she was, toying with a man she had only just met and giggling in the process. Delightfully out of character, the Colonial Captain found herself enjoying this unusual deviation from the norm. Of course, the Onyxian male was no stranger to female comforts either, and seemed to be aware of d'Foose and her advances. Playing at disinterest, he only encouraged her. She was amused and did not plan on giving up her only source of joy in this otherwise dismal setting.

Ambassador Droll was not so easily placated and, like his female counterpart, was none too eased by the prevalence of aliens in such close proximity. The Colonials practiced a strict Pro-Human sentiment that had, over time, discouraged aliens from trying to make their home among the people of Gestalt. Being presented with so many, having known so few, was making the man itch and causing his nerves to fire uncontrollably. At any moment, he expected, one of the savages would rip itself free of its clothing, clutch a weapon and lay ill of all of them, doubtless all the while brandishing its naked sex and hollering in languages as inhuman as their five-limbed appearances.

He had decided, long ago, that this was no place for a good Colonial man and that the issues discussed here would not benefit the future of the Colonies one iota and that, in fact, he feared the alien factions of the Coalition using this as a platform to gain a foothold on Gestalt. He would sooner be dammed then see such a thing come to pass. And so he would continue to sabotage their efforts where the Colonies were concerned until such time as those gathered either understood or chose for themselves that the people of Gestalt had no place in this Nation Building Wet Dream. When the discussion had legs under itself, and seemed intent upon beginning to demand resources and energies from the factions of the Coalition, Droll knew it was time to speak up.

“If the people of Singsang are a great industrial resource, then I am a monkeys uncle.”

This, it seemed, drew the appropriate response; everyone looked and gawked. Well, almost everyone...

“Why you have called us here,” he directed this at Pro Moon and his counterpart, Yolem. “I cannot begin to imagine.”

“The people of Gestalt have no desire to furnish this provincial dream with our hard earned surplus. We have no desire to see the wants of others, of inferior peoples, put before our own. We simply refuse. Now you speak of materials, of resources in the name of star ships and men, of those things needed to make war...”

He cast an ignominious glare around the room. “A nation of imperfection supported, founded and built on the labor of hard working men and women, who only desire for peace and quiet, when these supposed 'people' have not the gumption to see their own vision built, but seek to share in our prosper without, I might add, having given anything to deserve such. No.”

“No, the Colonies will give nothing. No, the Colonies will not help found another fallible sub-Nation within this, already corrupt and dwindling, Coalition of Planets. No.”

Everyone stared. Roused from her game, even Captain d'Foose tented her eyebrows and studied the man, hard. What he had said had not shocked her, it was the truth and every Colonial soul knew it, but it was the fact that he had made public the paranoid, isolationist perspective of the Colonies here, in such a public and open forum. However, d'Foose was no fool, she was not a chicken of spring. She acted fast...

“I guess that cat is out of the bag,” she winked at Caleb before turning her eyes, slowly from the Onyxian to the Kashan seated to her left, the Corise Lucerne, to whom she added. “You just can't take some people anywhere.”

With every twist and turn in the conversation, Pro Moon felt the meeting slipping away from him. Cracks were forming in the bonds holding together those members of the Coalition assembled, and even without the unusual senses of perception possessed by Cereans Pro Moon could tell that all hope of the West's unification was slipping rapidly down the drains of political infighting.

"Please, good people," said Pro Moon, his previously hopeful tone strained. "This meeting is supposed to be about bringing things together, not tearing them apart! We need to work together to-"

Pro Moon stopped. He'd just noticed that Yolem had gotten up. Eyes turned to the Azguardian leader. "What are you doing?"

Yolem was strapping his armour back on, piece by piece. The Azguardian nodded towards Chao before saying "He's right. Well, about one thing anyways; there's no need for this meeting. We're all going to do what we think is best, and that's all there is to it."

Panic seized the Prime Minister, who felt the ground shifting beneath his feet. "But how are we going to turn the West into a nation without coordinating? Without an action plan? Without help from the Coalition?"

"What do you expect us to do?" said Yolem, with a shrug. "The political stuff is your work, if you need money talk to Regrad."

Pro Moon was almost pleading now, as he continued to appeal to the Azguardians for their cooperation. "But we can't do this on our own! We need help!"

"Then we'll help," he replied. "In a manner of our choosing, however, and in our own ways." Yolem looked at the whole room before proceeding. "Listen, everyone, if we've learnt anything from all this, it's that we've all got our own goals, views, and ways of doing things, no surprises there. But I think we can help fix up the West and even the whole Coalition in our own ways, at our own pace, and not sitting around a table trying to ram square pegs through round holes."

He paused while affixing a gaundlet to look at Pro Moon. "Listen, we're not throwing you to the wolves here, and we've still benefitted a lot from this meeting. I don't think I've ever been more aware of who and what makes up the Coalition, and that's got to be worth something. We just aren't the sort of people who go around founding nations or following strict orders. We're more your friends and neighbours, so we're acting accordingly - call us when you want some heavy lifting done, don't ask us to design your house."

The Azguardian delegates got up to leave. A sense that the meeting was ending started to descend on events. At the door, Yolem turned and added "I was glad to come here today and meet some of you guys. Gods bless you for your work and for helping each other out, but really, let's just drop the act and start doing things our own way." With a nod to the host once more, Yolem and the Azguardians went out the door.

Pro Moon was devastated, his mind slowly considering the mountains of work that now lay before him. To save the floundering Prime Minister, captain Ion intervened. "Listen, everyone, I'd like to thank you all for coming out today for this meeting. We might not have accomplished much really, but we all had a chance to talk and that's something in itself. If any of you decide you do want to pitch in though, the Prime Minister's office will be open to any messages you want to send or other meetings you want to organize... even if the Prime Minister himself looks pretty catatonic right now."