The Rebel Faction

Corise stared at the man, surrounded by Confederate Marines. His white tunic was tattered from vibroblade attacks, singed from the stun blasters of the Paladin IIs, and caked in blood not only from his own body, but those of his friends and enemies. Stun cuffs bound his arms and ankles. It was hard to believe that mere minutes ago, this was the man who was leading the feared Iensis Pirates, the scourge of the Mytanor Sector. Now his fleet lay in ruins. Now his base lay in the hands of Serendivius. Now his physical body was at the whims of his Confederate captors. Yet still the pirate’s eyes shone with a raw defiance. He crookedly smiled at the Rear-Admiral.

“So you’re the guy. What you goin’ do? Lock me away to rot in some brig? I have news for you. They’ll be back.”

“Who will be back?” demanded the Kashan man, his hand resting on his holdout pistol.

The man laughed. “You don’t know? You think the Iensis are alone in this galaxy? There is a brotherhood across the galaxy. There are others like me, others like my crew. They will come. And like my ship burned today, so will yours. Like my friends died today, so will yours. Like my dignity has been stripped from me today, so will yours. And you know what? You’ll only know pain; defeat. Are you ready for it?”

Lucerne blinked in surprise. “I give you credit. You have, as your people would say ‘guts’ but do you know what? It matters not in the end. Many people in your profession are brave, and most of them are doomed. Do you not think that the combined governments of the galaxy will tolerate your crime-wave? Do you not think they can afford more ships, more men, and even moral superiority? You people have been lucky so far. The galaxy is strife, and some people, like the Empire, are more concerned about smashing their political opponents than caring for the welfare of their own citizens. But those times are coming to end. If your brotherhood does exist, it will perish in the purifying fire.”

The man snarled. “You will see!”

“I bet I will,” retorted the Kashan man, “Guards, take him away. Maximum security ward, please.”

“Yes sir.”

“Lieutenant, could you please get me a line with Grand Admiral Lavality?”

“Yes sir. Anything I should tell her, sir?”

“Tell her I’d like to discuss what to do with this…scum.”

"Ah, Grand Admiral Lavality, pleasure to see you, ma'am," bowed the Confederate officer, "there are some matters I wish to discuss with you regarding the recently captured Iensis. Naturally, we do wish to them stand trial before a Confederate court, but we would fools and ungrateful allies if we did not allow them to be judged in your own courts. We have suffered some from their attacks, but your people have suffered far more. Would you and some of your officers care to join me on the Revanche to discuss this matter of dinner?"

Diplomatic Dining Room, Revanche-class Star Defender Revanche

Most of the innards of the multi-kilometer starship were filled with weaponry, propulsion, generators, crew quarters, and nearly every other contrivance necessarily needed to wage a galactic war. In all of it, aethestics took a secondary position to functionality and durability. But the Revanche was more than a weapon of war. It was a symbol; a testament to the Confederation's power. And power, especially from a lightside government, rested as much as its military as its diplomacy. And thus during its contruction, the Contegorian Council had demanded that a diplomatic complex be built inside of the warship; with secure, deluxe sleeping quarters and conference rooms for Confederate diplomats and politicians and their guests. But at the heart of it stood the dining room. A suave, flowing room flooded with alabaster whites and Confederate grays. The central table was laid out with the finest of Soroya silverware and porcelian, augmented by the Lucerne families vintage stock of drinks, all held in intricate Vors-glass vessels; all of them a work of art.

Corise stood at the head of the table. "For once we actually get to use it."

Commander Fyre shrugged. "Are you complaining?"

"Yes," noted the Rear-Admiral, "I could have otherwise said that it is a waste of space that was never used."

Fyre snorted. "At least this use could actually make it more than worthwhile."

"Perhaps," contemplated the Kashan man idly, "do we have the ETA of our guests yet?"

"Ten minutes until they're in the hangar bay."

"Very well," stated the officer, "we should be there waiting for them. We'll have to use the priority turbolift to there on time."

"But of course."

Hangar Bay, Revanche-class Star Defender Revanche

The Grand Admiral's shuttle landed in the battleship's priority hangar bay, among neatly lined ranks of elite soldiers and vehicles; heavily glossed Deathsabers hung overhead on starfighter racks, like majestic birds of prey. Directly beneath them, several elements of Trutzig's famed Audacian 56th Regiment formed long rectangular. Directly across from them, in fulll black battle dress, stood the most decorated Kirkanian unit, the 19th Regiment, better known as the Raven Guards. At the end of the aisle opposite of Lavality's shuttle, the command crew of the Revanche with Commander Fyre and Rear-Admiral Lucerne waited to greet the Serendivius officer.

Fyre whispered into the younger Lucerne's man, "Time to go?"

"Yes," agreed the other officer, "It might actually be better if we led down the aisle, make her feel more welcomed and less uncomfortable."

Fyre started walking down the ranks with the Rear-Admiral. "I know if that I visited their flagship, and there was a bunch of Wookies lined up like this, I'd be wondering which one could tear my arm off. And then I'd realize that they all could."

A smile blossomed on Corise's face, "I'm sure the Trandoshans are just as strong."

"Powerful allies."

"Indeed," whispered back Lucerne, approaching the Grand Admiral, "Grand Admiral Lavality, on the behalf of the Confederation as a whole, and especially on the behalf of my fleet, welcome aboard the Revanche. We are truly pleased that you could make this visit."

"Thank you, ma'am," bowed the Kashan officer.

Corise noticed Fyre gazing curiously at the Serendivius uniforms. Unlike the other man, the Rear-Admiral ignored the alien clothing, a practice inculcated in him by his diplomatic parents and further ingrained through several trips with Pro-Consul Christina Thorn. And while his sapphire eyes could easily focus on the Grand Admiral's face, he found mind preoccupied with thoughts about the uniform. I have seen all kinds of naval uniforms throughout my tenure as a Kashan officer, and before that as part of the CEC corporate fleet, but never anything quite like this. It is an interesting, if perhaps symbolic uniform; the lavish coat representing station and Serendivius power, but the robe underneath to represent and remind her of the commoners, or perhaps of humble beginnings? He shook the thought away as quickly as it had entered his mind. The younger Lucerne shook the thought away. In comparison to their guests, the Confederate naval officers seemed drab and ubiquitous, wearing black tunics and trousers etched with pale silver-gray lines around the seems and sporting the red and blue rank plaques on their breast. Corise politely smiled as he led them down the ranks.

"You will forgive me, ma'am," noted the officer, "but we are somewhat ignorant of your culinary practices. Thus, the chefs have prepared a wide variety of dishes from the common Bantha Burger to my own family's ethnic L’lahsh. However, I am very lucky to have excellent and expedient chef's onboard, so if you wish for a particular dish, we may be able to have it ready in time for dinner, if you so wish."