The Rebel Faction

(Edit: Cooperative takeover of Selcaron and Halmad included in this thread)




I have declared the Onyxian Commonwealth a rogue state and it will be treated as such. This is a state that we intend to occupy and it is a state we intend to pacify! Any resistance in the form of military will be assumed to be the supporter of this rogue government and will be crushed accordingly. . .

. . .But I am not without mercy. I love my people as much as you love yours. Therefore, any Coalition warship that stands down when our occupation forces arrive will go unmolested. Any person within the Onyxian Occupation Zone who wishes to be a Coalition citizen is free to leave for Coalition space.








No help was coming for the Onyxians, not if the Cooperative didn't send it.

"We're walking a fine line here, Smarts; the slightest misstep could prove catastrophic for the Cooperative." Traan Shi was standing in one of the innermost compartments of Smarts' ship, literally staring at the vessel's reactor core.

"That's why we're meeting here, instead of in front of the Combined Council," Smarts responded, his voice once again seeming to seep from the walls. "I have the authority to mobilize our forces in order to provide aide to an ally nation; I have the authority to dispatch diplomatic envoys in a time of crisis. Whatever the outcome, I will take full responsibility for it."

"And so will I, if you have your way."

"We have a chance to help save a nation," Smarts said, almost sounding emotional. "We have to try." Smarts paused for a moment, giving Traan a chance to brace for the question that was coming. "Will you help me save a nation, Traan?"

Traan sighed heavily, bowing his head, obviously debating with himself. He finally looked up, though there was nothing to look at, and gave his answer: "When do we leave?"




Onyx

Imperial forces would soon be closing in on Onyx, as well as every other world of the Commonwealth. Without aide, the entire nation of the Onyxian Commonwealth would be crushed within days, perhaps sooner. It would seem that the fate of the Onyxian Commonwealth was sealed.

A single Theta-class shuttle exited hyperspace in the Onyx System, immediately transmitting Coalition diplomatic and military command codes. Receiving emergency clearance to land, the shuttle sped through Onyxian space, cutting quickly through the planet's atmosphere and coming to rest on a diplomatic landing pad. Nearly three dozen individuals exited the craft, hurrying into the adjacent building. If the Onyxian Commonwealth was to be saved, they had to act quickly.




A few hours later, the delegation from the Cooperative of Systems was standing before the Ruling Council of the Onyxian Commonwealth, ready with their proposal. Traan Shi stepped away from the group of Cooperative representatives, Commander Kerrick Arkanus taking a position beside him. "We don't have time for etiquette and protocol, so I'll make this quick and simple," Traan said solemnly. "The Cooperative doesn't have much in the way of military resources to send to you, and even if we did, it wouldn't mean much in the long run. The Empire is set on destroying your nation, and they will succeed, unless you let us help you, in the only way that we can."

Traan continued on, the Ruling Council apparently content to sit and listen. "Allow us to help you evacuate citizens and resources to Cooperative space, where we will help you establish a new Onyxian government on a new world, and preserve your way of life. I don't propose this lightly and I understand that—"

"You understand?!" One of the members of the Council shouted, standing to his feet and pointing at Traan, a terrifying anger in his eyes. "You would have us abandon our people, our worlds, our way of life, and run away to hide on some mothball of a planet while you take advantage of whatever resources you can carve from our world in the days before the Empire arrives? You come here calling yourself our ally, but all you want is an excuse to take whatever you can get your hands on. I will not abandon my people to the Empire, and watch you scurry away with your hands and pockets filled with whatever you can scrounge from them!" The man's fist was clenched now, shaking it threateningly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're absolutely right," Traan said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "It would be best to leave your shipyards in orbit," he said calmly, then his voice began to grow louder and more confrontational as he continued, "so the Empire can take them when they reach this world! It won't be hard," He continued, his voice still harsh and grating, "because I'm sure you're going to smash every ship that you have against their encroaching forces! If you want to save your people, then you'll listen to what I have to say, because right now, there's nowhere in the galaxy that wants you—that will even take you in—except for the Cooperative."

Traan calmed down, pausing for a moment to try to compose himself. "I'm giving you the chance to preserve some remnant of the nation that you all have helped to build. When the Empire comes, and your defenses fall, and their Stormtroopers are marching through the streets of every city on every world of this Commonwealth, then your people will want to leave, to flee to a place where the enemy of their age does not tread. When that time comes, they could find themselves in the East, or the West, or maybe even in the Contegorian Confederation; or they could find themselves on an Onyxian world, with an Onyxian government, surrounded by Onyxian citizens, with Onyxian warships in orbit, watching over them. They could find themselves surrounded by a nation that has decided to take them in, and care for them.

"Do now what you won't be able to do in the days to come. Let us help you relocate the resources that would otherwise be destroyed or converted to Imperial use. The Emperor has promised to allow the unhindered exodus of all warships and civilians, so long as they pass peacefully. If his promise proves untrue, then you can have your glorious battle, then you can run yourselves upon the swords of your enemies.

"I understand that you have a duty to this nation, to its worlds and its people, and to those who have fallen defending it, but if you all stay and fight, there will be no one left to fight when it will matter. This is your chance; the window of opportunity is closing fast."

"I hate to say it," Kerrick Arkanus finally commented as Traan finished, "but 'he who fight and runs away. . .'" He let the old cliché hang in the air for a moment, not bothering to finish it, not willing to be so trivial when so much hung on the outcome of this Council's decision. "If nothing else, you can appreciate the military significance of our offer. We can't fight for you, but in time, you'll be able to fight for yourselves again."

The two of them stood in silence, awaiting the Onyxian response, both hopeful and fearful, for the Cooperative and for the Commonwealth.

The sound of a chair being slid across the floor echoed through the deathly stillness that had fallen on the meeting, and Golgna, the Council member from Onyx stood slowly, his face set in stone, his hands pressed against the top of the table that sat in front of him. "We are the Onyxian Commonwealth; we are its leaders, and as such, we share its fate. If it is called 'rogue,' then so are we. Any agreement you formed with us, you would be forming with an enemy of the Empire. You cannot afford to do that, and we will not allow the ruin that will be visited upon us to pass to you.

"Your dream of preserving the Onyxian government is a noble one, but it is foolish. You cannot help us; we are beyond salvation. Onyx will die, and the Coalition will survive; that is the price that has been paid." He made the last statement with such finality, such utter hopelessness, that Traan knew there was no point in arguing. The Onixian government would not—could not—get involved with any effort the Cooperative made to save the Onyxian people.




The walk back to the transport was silent and sorrowful. Traan spent the few moments considering what had just happened, if it could have realistically happened any other way, and what terrible consequences would have followed if the Commonwealth had accepted their offer. The silence was oppressive and draining, seeming to sap the life from the delegation as they walked, but they continued on in silence, no one knowing what to say to break the terrible spell.

A nation had just died, and they were walking through its corpse.

A shadowy figure appeared ahead, walking slowly toward them, concealed by a hooded robe. Just behind him was the exit, and in the distance the delegation's shuttle could be seen sitting on its landing pad. The man walked slowly towards them, and Traan slowed as they approached, finally coming to a stop. He stared at the hooded man for a long moment, considering the barely-visible features beneath the cloak. He was dressed not unlike the traditional Jedi, but this man was no Jedi: there was something about him that was rigid. . . dark. This man didn't possess the spirit of a Jedi; he was something else entirely, but maybe just as dangerous. Maybe just as meaningful.

"Ambassador Traan Shi?" He asked, stopping a meter away from Traan.

"Yes?"

The man pulled down his hood, fixing cold eyes on the Ambassador. "My name is Ethan Vang, of the Praetorian Guard. You need to come with me."

Fifteen minutes later, Traan Shi and Kerrick Arkanus were standing in the launch bay of a Commonwealth Bird of Prey, the rest of their seemingly useless delegation just behind them. "This is Nitin Cass," Ethan said as a female Iridonian approached, her polite poise and diplomatic garb contrasting sharply with the rigid Guardsman.

Nitin stepped forward, extending her hand in greeting. "Ambassador," She said lightly, as Traan shook her hand, "it is good to meet you. Commander," She added, nodding toward Kerrick.

"We've detected your fleet holding position three lightyears out," Ethan said, interrupting the pleasantries. He handed Traan a datapad: "Send them these coordinates; we'll rendezvous there."

"I'd hardly call it a fleet," Traan said defensively, looking at the datapad Ethan had handed him. "Sanctuary?"

"The home of the Praetorian Guard," Ethan said proudly, then added, "among other things."

Minutes later, with the coordinates sent to the Cooperative ships, the Bird of Prey shook slightly and accelerated into hyperspace.

"May I ask why we're going there?"

"Of course, Ambassador. Please, this way." Nitin began walking toward the launch bay's exit, heading farther into the ship. "I realize this isn't the ideal meeting place, but these are far from ideal times. The answer to your question is simple: the Praetorian Guard have been quite effective in putting together an evacuation plan, of sorts."

"Of sorts?" Kerrick asked, a little too sarcastically.

"We're talking about evacuating an entire region of space," Ethan responded dryly. "Not an easy task. Lucky for you, we're in a unique position. We're the servants of the Coalition, the pride of their military; it just so happens that we're based in Onyxian space. We'll be able to move about the Commonwealth for quite some time, even after the Empire takes over, helping to coordinate the evacuation. Some will stay, unwilling to leave their homelands, but billions will undoubtedly flee."

"The Commonwealth is indeed dead, but its people are still very much alive," Nitin said, continuing where Ethan left off. "When the large-scale evacuations start, when the Empire comes and starts scarring everyone away, we'll need a way to draw them all together, to give them hope that this nightmare will end."

"Can you do that?" Traan asked, sounding doubtful.

"I love the Commonwealth; I love Iridonia; but a nation means nothing without people, and without a nation, people are nothing more than savages. When the time comes, when the people are finally where they're going, crowded on some world in your Quelii Sector, then my purpose will be made clear. The people of the Commonwealth will listen to me, and those I work with; they respect the opinions of the Iridonians, and most importantly, they trust us. To them, you're outsiders, but we're neighbors, allies. . . friends. We'll help you establish order, build a government, reorganize police forces and political institutions. We have to start all over again, with nothing but the memory of what we once were, and the hope of what we can one day become."

"So," Kerrick asked skeptically, "what does any of this have to do with Sanctuary?"





Sanctuary

"It sounds a little like a square peg in a round hole to me," Kerrick remarked, a little overwhelmed, staring at the torrent of asteroids that filled the forward viewscreen.

"Good thing I made sure to bring an axe," Ethan said blankly from his position beside Kerrick and Traan. "That doesn't mean it's going to be easy. Make sure your ships stay in formation; we're going in." The Cooperative had sent a number of various freighters and transports with Traan's delegation. A few lightyears from Onyx, the entire group had dropped out of hyperspace, Traan and his men continuing on in the shuttle. It was only now that Traan and those vessels had been reunited

"I'm a little more concerned with the political ramifications," Traan said, almost sounding nervous.

"Sanctuary is the headquarters of the Praetorian Guard; the way I see it, anything in there belongs to us," Ethan reassured, though not very well. "And like I said before," He added, smiling, "we're just loyal Coalition soldiers."

Kerrick and Traan were the only members of the delegation still there; the others had left for Iridonia with Nitin Cass almost immediately after reverting to realspace. Inside that asteroid field were warships, munitions, starship parts, shipyards, and soldiers: lots and lots of soldiers. Praetorian Guard soldiers. Everything was packed up and ready to go, but there was just one problem: there weren't enough transports at Sanctuary to get everything out. The Cooperative convoy would solve that problem.

Sanctuary had been chosen as the base of the Praetorian Guard because it was a natural fortress, the asteroid field so intense that entry or exit was nearly impossible. There was only one small window of opportunity, which opened approximately once a day; if they missed that, they missed their chance.

The Bird of Prey accelerated suddenly, flying toward the asteroid field, only seconds away from apparent destruction. The vessel executed a series of weaves and turns, slipping through the field, following a precisely timed path. Square peg, round hole. Kerrick watched the asteroids ahead. There were so many of them: so many shapes, sizes, distances, speeds, and directions. It was profoundly disorienting. And then they were through, into a relatively stable area around one of the largest asteroids. The perimeter was ringed with huge tractor-repulsor stations, designed to repel any asteroid that sought to approach the asteroid called Sanctuary. It was directly ahead of them, massive, ominous; ringed by shipyards, and swarming with warships, it was an awesome sight to behold. Too bad it was about to become an Imperial holding.

"The Cooperative convoy has made it through safely," The navigator reported. "Transmitting docking locations now."

It would be twenty-four hours before the vessels entombed in that stone fortress could leave. Twenty-four hours to strip this place dry.




Iridonia

Rane Cardan had worked with Traan Shi for years. When Traan resigned his position on Shili to help the people of Varn form the Cooperative, it didn't take Rane long to follow suit. As the most-senior official of the Cooperative representatives now at Iridonia, and a trusted friend of Traan Shi, it would be Rane's responsibility to carry out Traan's wishes.

The meeting was a fairly large one. There were representatives from several Iridonian clans, as well as several officials from Iridonia's planetary government. A large group of Praetorian Guard were present, as well, and as Rane stepped into the room, one of the Guardsmen was just finishing up a long-winded statement.

"Let's not play any word games," One of the Iridonians said, waving a dismissive hand at the Guardsman. "What you're talking about is martial law."

"Perhaps you should intervene," Nitin Cass whispered to Rane, the two of them stepping further into the crowded room. The whole meeting seemed very unorganized, or at least very unofficial.

Rane took a deep breath, calming himself, then walked into the center of the room. "What you fail to realize, is that the Cooperative of Systems will be overseeing each stage of the new Onyxian government's development; there can be no martial law where soldiers answer to politicians."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Rane Cardan, of the Galactic Coalition's Cooperative of Systems," Nitin said, taking a few steps forward as she introduced Rane, gesturing to him as she did so.

"Sorry I'm late," he added sheepishly, a nervous smile showing through his attempts to appear confident. All eyes were on him, expecting him to continue, hoping for some reassurance that their efforts would prove fruitful. "Uhh, the Praetorian Guard will undoubtedly serve to help maintain order during the initial stages of the relocation, but our purpose in all of this is to establish a working government as quickly and efficiently as possible. Our goal is to make this transition to Cooperative space as orderly as possible, so we can rebuild a society, not just relocate a populace. The Praetorian Guard is here to help, not take over."

"What do you mean by 'new Onyxian government'?" The question came from Nitin, which surprised Rane a little.

"He means whatever puppet system they install to force our compliance," The same man who had responded to the Guardsman earlier yelled.

Rane had to choose his next words carefully; he knew this moment would come, but now that it was finally here, he wasn't sure if he was ready for it. "The government established to rule over your people will be established by those very people; however, it will be a Cooperative government, not an Onyxian one, and it will answer to the Combined Council of the Cooperative, not the Ruling Council of the Onyxian Commonwealth, should those people choose to reestablish it. The immigrants from the former Onyxian Commonwealth who find themselves within Cooperative space will be integrated as Cooperative citizens, not as citizens of an allied nation occupied by a hostile force."

"This is the choice we have made," Nitin said loudly, hoping her support would reduce the opposition to Rane's statement. "Ambassador Traan Shi, the chief diplomatic representative of the Cooperative of Systems, has given me his personal assurances that any Onyxian Citizens who flee to the Cooperative will be settled together; this nation is dead, but its people will be allowed to build a new civilization together."

"We have no other choice," One of the older, more prominent Iridonians said, offering his support before anyone else could object. "It will be done." Several others gave their assent, and though it was obvious that many in the room didn't like the arrangement, they gave no open opposition. If the eldest, most experienced, most respected members of the assembly believed that this course of action was right, then that was the course of action that would be taken.

It seemed that the matter was settled: the Iridonians would support and assist in the Cooperative's relocation plans however they could.

"Now," Nitin said gravely, "how do we make this happen?"




Varn

"You did what!?" Giles Rhade exclaimed, everyone in the room finally understanding why Smarts had invited the man from Amorris to the Combined Council's meeting.

"We joined the Coalition because we believed that we could help it," Beta said loudly. "Now we have that chance. There are less than five million people on Amorris, making it the only world under our control that has any hope of accommodating the refugees from the Onyxian Commonwealth. Rane Cardan, Traan Shi's chief assistant, contacted me hours ago; an advance group of Iridonians will soon be on their way, to help us prepare for the large-scale arrivals."

"We've already got people showing up in Cooperative space," A representative from Varn said nervously, "and we don't know what to do with them. How do you expect us to handle any serious influx of refugees?"

"We have to mobilize all of the resources at our disposal immediately, and we have to begin planning for the weeks and months ahead," Beta responded quickly. "We need to begin building large-scale temporary housing on Amorris immediately, mobilize the droid factories on Ord Cestus for the production of massive numbers of construction droids, expand all available mines and refineries to build up the materials needed for construction of permanent structures, and most importantly, we need to find a way to feed these people."

"Can we not count on the Coalition for aide?" One of the other Council members asked, frightened and overwhelmed.

"The Coalition will send what aide it can, but there's no way to be certain of how quickly they will respond, how much they will send, or how long we will be dependent on it. If we begin planning now for the long-term repercussions, we can become self-sufficient as soon as possible."

The clicking sound of a X'Ting cut through the air, and everyone paused in recognition of the insect's statement, though it had not yet been translated. A human from the same delegation—Cestus—whispered something to the X'Ting, and after several seconds of passing a datapad back and forth, the human stood, speaking on behalf of all of the planet's representatives. "The Cooperative was founded upon the belief that diversity brings about unity; that in the end, the very different species, cultures, and societies of this galaxy all need each other. Not long ago, you extended your hand to us, and saved us from destroying ourselves; now it is our turn to extend our hand, and prove that this Cooperative was not forged in vain. You united Cestus' species under their combined desire for economic prosperity, and now it will be that prosperity that we will use to aide this relocation, so in time, those who find a home among us may one day come to our aide, and perpetuate the cycle of Cooperation."

Hyperspace

It was time to go home. They had come to ensure the safety of the Onyxian people, to present them with a place where they might preserve some fragment of their identities, and their duty was done. It was time to go home.

So why were they on their way to Valacar, another Onyxian holding, one farther away from Cooperative space than Sanctuary? In a word: Ilum. A location even more-removed from galactic civilization.

The technology of a thousand species, Kerrick Arkanus thought to himself, and they don't know how to add. Disgraceful. Kerrick was leaning heavily against the bulkhead, the blaze of hyperspace pouring over his face as he stared through the viewport that was only inches in front of his nose, fighting the exhaustion that threatened to drag him to the ground. "Why are we even bothering with this?" Kerrick croaked loudly, swaying difficulty away from the wall and walking across the small sitting area.

"This is what we do," Traan Shi answered calmly, sitting peacefully with his hands folded in his lap, his face a picture of serenity.

* * *

Two hours earlier

Sanctuary

"We've got a problem," A very young man in Praetorian Guard uniform said after bursting into the room and offering a sharp salute.

Ethan Vang returned it casually, hardly bothering to look up from the mess of datapads, star charts, and loose pieces of flimsiplast that covered his small desk, then muttered, "You think, Cole?" sarcastically.

Davik Cole was one of several hundred men and women aboard the various ships of the Coalition fleet preparing to leave Sanctuary who had been caught with his pants down, so to speak, and through no fault of his own. He had joined the Praetorian Guard just over a week ago, and as such, had only just begun the rigorous training program required of all hopeful Guardsmen. He wasn't yet truly a member of the Praetorian Guard, but he was far from being a civilian. And thus he had become the personal errand boy of the ship's captain.

"We've just received a message from Ilum; something's gone wrong, and the ships they were expecting were sent somewhere else. They don't have enough ships to empty the supply depot."

Ethan sighed heavily. "You're kidding me. I just blew a hole through an asteroid field and dragged half of Sanctuary StarDrive through it, and you're telling me they're complaining to me because they can't count straight?" He was seething; he hadn't gotten a real night's worth of sleep since Bilbringi, what with the planning for an Imperial counter-strike, and then the news that the Coalition had surrendered the Commonwealth.

"Actually, yes, Sir," Davik said reluctantly. "Apparently, some fleet element was accidentally ordered to two locations at once; they chose people over supplies. But in their defense," He added quickly, seeing Ethan's anger welling again, "they've only had a day or two to work this out."

It didn't help. "Again: I blew a hole in Sanctuary, and dragged out the shipyards! And I went to Onyx to pick up our Cooperative friends. My timetable? A day and a half. I win; no excuse."

"Sir, maybe you should get some rest." Davik tried as hard as he could to make it sound like a simple suggestion, but in truth, he was probably starting to worry about Ethan.

"I don't have any ships," Ethan said suddenly, either ignoring Davik, or actually so tired that he didn't realize the younger man had said anything. "I-I-I don't have any." He was shaking his head, once again staring down at the jumble of reports and data that littered his desk. "There just isn't enough room. . . Everything's full."

"Should I tell them that we can't help, Sir?"

Ethan tried to muster a smile, and almost managed, then hurled the mess on his desk to the floor, grabbed a blank piece of flimsiplast that had been buried under all of the reports, and began scribbling vigorously. "I've got a fleet to run. I've got a job to do. There," He said after a moment, handing Davik the piece of flimsi. "Cole, I want you to take this message to either Ambassador Shi, or Commander Arkanus, both of which are from the Cooperative. Next time we meet, let me know how everything worked out."

Davik looked a little confused, but gave a sturdy, "Yes, Sir," saluted, and made his way out the door, still worried about Ethan.

He found Traan Shi and Kerrick Arkanus at the same time; they were in the docking bay, preparing to leave for one of the Cooperative ships that made up the sizable convoy now preparing to leave Onyxian space forever. "Commander Arkanus," He said briskly, saluting. "Ambassador Shi," He added, bowing slightly. "I have a message for you." He handed the piece of flimsi to the ambassador, whose face lit up with surprise, and quickly turned to hand the message to Commander Arkanus.

"Well, that's surprising," The ambassador said, bewildered, as he turned back to Cole. "Shall we be on our way, then?"

"I'm sorry, Ambassador," Davik said cordially, "but I don't follow."

Traan snatched the note from Kerrick and handed it to Davik. "You're coming with us to Valacar to collect vessels capable of transporting the supplies stored at Ilum. Although I hope this 'by any means necessary' bit was written in jest."

Davik's surprise as he read the note helped disguise his worry at hearing the ambassador's last comment. "Well then," He said with a false sense of cheer, "shall we be on our way?"


Valacar

Valacar was a dismal world in pretty much every conceivable way, but like all things Onyxian, it had a garrison. When the shuttle carrying Traan, Kerrick, and Davik landed, they were greeted not by a representative of the planet's government, but interestingly enough by a member of the Praetorian Guard.

He offered them a quick salute, and then handed Kerrick a datapad. "Everything's in order, Sir," He added as he walked away. Kerrick looked down at the datapad to see a departure time, a list of ships' names, and rather large monetary sum.

"That was easy," Traan remarked, glancing over at Kerrick. "How'd they manage that so quickly?"

"The universal language," Kerrick said quickly, turning around to reenter the shuttle. "Money."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Apparently, the Praetorian Guard appropriated some funds from a local bank and hired the local freighter captains."

Traan stopped at the base of the transport's ramp, realization dawning. "You can't be serious. They robbed a bank, and forced everyone they could find that happened to have a ship to come with us? 'By any means necessary,' indeed!"

Kerrick smiled. "They 'appropriated' funds which will be reimbursed by the Onyxian government—

"There is no Onyxian government!" Traan shrieked.

"—and they 'requisitioned' the use of nearby transport craft. They're paying any civilians that might be inconvenienced—rather generously might I add. No harm, no foul."

"I can't allow this," Traan said, refusing to board the shuttle. "This is illegal, and it is wrong."

Kerrick turned around, staring intently at Traan, a look of determination on his face that Traan had never seen before. "Until the Empire shows up with guns at the ready and forces these people to make a choice, they are Coalition citizens, despite the state of the Onyxian Commonwealth. The Praetorian Guard is a Coalition entity, and is empowered—in times of crisis—to do just what they're doing now. They don't have to answer to you, ambassador, and I thank the Force for that. I'm going to fulfill my duties as a servant of the Cooperative and the Coalition, and see that the Empire doesn't get one more credit, not one more blaster, not one more glowstick, than is absolutely necessary! You can get onboard, or you can stay here, but I'm going to Ilum, and I'm filling these ships with every gun, ration, droid, power cell, and light bulb that I can find. Choose."

Traan walked silently into the shuttle; the quiet hiss of the closing ramp was the last sound he noticed for quite some time.


Varn

Beta was standing patiently on the diplomatic landing pad reserved for the incoming Iridonian delegation, several Cooperative officials standing to either side of him. He could feel the touch of Smarts' mind, but it was distant, cloudy; the Overseer was indeed busy. No matter; Beta was an expertly designed diplomatic droid, and if the Overseer was too busy to handle this meeting personally, Beta wouldn't have any problems picking up the slack.

But as the Iridonian shuttle glided into place and the ramp began to lower, Beta felt the touch of his master grow stronger once again, and he knew that Smarts had returned his attention to the meeting. Beta heard himself speak in a voice that didn't belong to him as the Iridonian delegation made their way down their shuttle's ramp, and soon, his feet were compelling him toward them, and his hand had extended itself in a sign of greeting.

And so it was that the ship-sized machine known as Smarts engaged himself in yet another facet of the Onyxian Crisis. But far away, on the planet of Cestus, another droid was bowing to the will of Smarts' touch, and Delta was engaged in fierce debate with several dozen X'Ting insects. The Cooperative had set aside massive resources—primarily food—to help fuel a planned mass-expansion of the X'Ting populace, an expansion intended to help them continue the long recovery from the near-extinction they had experienced over a century ago. But like all the members of the Cooperative, the X'Ting had been asked to postpone their own goals in order to help relocate the Onyxian people, and only one of the twelve X'Ting clans was proving difficult to work with.

Elsewhere still, Smarts' mind was touching the unfamiliar brains of several dozen hastily appropriated protocol droids, which were scampering about several ships on or around Amorris, organizing entry vectors for ships and supply points for the swelling tent settlements. The Commonwealth hadn't really even fallen yet, and still Amorris was being flooded by millions of former Onyxian citizens. Smarts dreaded to think what would happen when the real evacuation began.

Events like these were unfolding all throughout Cooperative space, and Smarts was monitoring them all, but that's not to say that his awareness ended there. All throughout the Quelii Sector, Cooperative teams had been dispatched to request aide from neighboring worlds, and among every one of these teams, at least one droid was linked to Smarts by hyperspace relays or hyperwave emitters.

As he assimilated the massive amounts of dada streaming in from worlds all throughout the sector, he set his mind to predicting the best possible course of action, and then, almost wearily, he allowed himself a brief moment silence, of quiet reflection. I was created to be the ultimate tool of war, yet here I am, an ultimate tool of peace. Then the tidal wave of information swept over him again, and he was once more on Varn, and Amorris, within the Kauron asteroid field, and beneath the surface of Cestus, on the distant worlds of distant stars, pleading with friends and allies for relief in such a time of turmoil.

Time melted away, and there was only the task: preserve the people of the Onyxian Commonwealth. The machine called Smarts pushed away the humanity he had fought so hard to attain, and set about the unwanted task of writing the fates of countless souls. Every choice he made could mean a life that was not allowed to be lived, a dream that was not allowed to be dreamt, a future that was not allowed to be had. But these are the choices that must be made, and I am the only one with the capacity to make them.

It was only the opening stage of the evacuation, and already there were so many questions, so many problems, so many fears. No one was saying it, but everyone was worried that the Cooperative wouldn't be able to pull this off, and Smarts was beginning to believe that their worries were well founded.

"Members of the Praetorian Guard sent this to us less than an hour ago," Ethan Vang reported to the small gathering as the message ended. "It has begun."

"Looks like we made it just in time," Kerrick Arkanus said smugly, a strange look of victory appearing on his face.

"Our only advantage now is that comm signals travel faster than starships," Traan Shi said grimly, glancing at the only droid in the room. "Overseer, are we ready?"

The droid moved away from the wall it had had its back to, stepping toward the center of the room. "We have navigational buoys deployed throughout the Varn and Amorris systems; all available resources have been diverted to Amorris, and are being distributed to supply stations across the planet. Our main concern now is in identifying and cataloguing these people.

"We've isolated those already on the planet from the settlement areas future arrivals will be sent to. We need a means of identifying these people as they set foot on Amorris' surface, and I think we have one."

Beta stepped a few paces forward, approaching the holoprojector Ethan had just used to play the audio of the Imperial broadcast. With the press of a few buttons, the image of two droids appeared; the first was a small, spherical droid, while the second looked like little more than an arm with an eye. "The first sets of these are en route from Cestus to Amorris right now. One is a self-propelled holorecorder, with some slight programming modifications; the other is a simple, portable medical assistant droid, designed to take DNA samples and perform rudimentary body scans.

"We've designated a few hundred large, open areas across Amoriss' surface as landing sights." Beta entered a new string of commands, and an idealized version of one of these landing sights appeared within the holofield. A fence outlined its perimeter, with several gateways located at equidistant intervals. "Cooperative Defense Force personnel will secure and patrol the perimeters of these areas, ensuring that new arrivals exit through appropriate gateways. At these gateways, the holorecorder droids will take facial scans of each arriving individual, while the medical droid will take DNA samples and make casual health scans."

"'Casual health scans'?" Kerrick asked sardonically.

"We're not trying to be thorough, Commander, because we can't. Our primary goal is to identify highly contagious pathogens and eliminate them before we have any epidemics on our hands. There's no need to compound our disaster."

"So, how does this help us," Traan asked, obviously wanting to move this meeting along.

Beta turned his attention to Traan. "The facial scan, DNA sample, health information, and individual's given name will be tagged with an identification number and sent to two locations: an identification database, and a simple datapad."

"Datapad?" This time it was Ethan who spoke up, and the tone in his voice said that he was worried about what he was likely about to hear.

"Yes. Each arrival will be issued a datapad with their own name, likeness, DNA profile, and temporary identification number."

"And where are we getting billions of datapads from?"

"Do you know how extraordinarily commonplace datapads are, Mr. Arkanus? It's virtually like asking for billions of sheets of flimsiplast."

"But it's not; it's like asking for billions of datapads."

"When you concider that Cestus manufactures datapads at a rate of approximately fifty million a day, under normal working conditions, I don't think we'll have too much of a problem. My efficiency, Mr. Arkanus, is not diminished by a decreased timetable. Rest assured: I won't be sending you to Valinor for datapads." The comment forced an involuntary smile from Kerrick.

"But is it going to work?" Said a new voice, as Davik Cole moved cautiously away from the wall he had been leaning against, obviously feeling out of place.

"There's only one way to find out," Beta responded ominously.

"What about everything else," Traan asked. "Food? Water? Shelter?" Traan paused for a moment. "Hygienic issues?"

"For the short-term, they'll sleep in ships and tents, and use the vessels' refreshers. Water can be readily filtered from Amorris' oceans, lakes, and rivers. Food is a potential problem, but we've managed to assemble a fairly large quantity, with more coming in every day, and more sources being acquired constantly; however, we want to start producing it ourselves as quickly as possible.

"And this, good friends, may be the best news of the day. Commodore Blakeley of Halmad has managed to convince his government to send us surplus stores of both food, and farming equipment. The grains grown on Halmad are ideal for many climate areas of Amorris, and with the help of the new Ryn nation, we have everything we need to begin cultivating farmlands immediately."

"Ryn WHAT?!" Kerrick yelled.

"Escuse me, what was that?" Traan asked politely, managing to remain slightly more composed than Kerrick.

A noise issued from the droid that sounded peculiarly like a chuckle.


Amorris, Orbit

"No, no, NO! That goes there. . . That goes there!" The group of seven Ryn were all huddled around a large display screen, one of them yelling frantically as he reached with some difficulty to move around a few of the small red markers that littered the screen's surface. Athan straightened up, grabbing a datapad clipped to his belt and checking it with the display on the screen. "Entry corridor C-7, exit corridor G-2. Right."

"See, I told you! Hah!" One of the Ryn shouted excitedly at another, a smug look covering his face as he let out another laugh.

"If you could, for a moment," Athan said seriously, "remember that there are lives at stake here, that'd be great." He turned and walked away, shaking his head in disappointment. On one hand, he couldn't really blame them; what could very well be the most monumental event in Ryn history since the loss of their long-forgotten homeworld had taken place less than a day ago, when the elders of Athan's clan had officially created the first recorded Ryn nation with the signing of a charter before the Combined Council of the Cooperative. But on the other hand, there was a job to do, and now more than ever, they needed to make sure they did it right.

Athan stopped to look out of the ship's viewport, just able to make out the flashing lights of a few of the nearest navigational beacons that now littered space around Amorris. With a hastily-conjured orbital traffic control center that consisted of nothing more than a large science ship filled with slicer droids, incoming vessels would need all the help they could get to reach the planet safely.

Athan became aware of a set of approaching footsteps. He turned to meet the new arrival, and recognized him as one of the human crewmen still stationed onboard the ship. "Sir, we've just received a hail from a convoy of Halmad freighters," The man said, handing Athan a datapad.

"It's just Athan, crewman," Athan flashed the young man a friendly smile, then looked down at the timestamp on the datapad's open file. "Oh, my. I better get moving." And with that, Athan was off, shouting a few last orders to several people as he made his way out of the room.

Fifteen minutes later, he was standing in one of the warm, dry grasslands that dominated almost an entire hemisphere of Amorris, arriving just in time to see the Halmad freighters touch down. All throughout the area, small shuttles and transports were landing, releasing a horde of Ryn workers. Athan floated forward on a small hover pad, closing the distance between himself and the now-stationary Halmad freighters in only a few seconds. He jumped lightly to the ground and continued toward a small, military-style shuttle that had landed among the freighters.

As he approached, the shuttle's ramp extended and a tall, white-haired human in full military dress stepped out, offering Athan a firm salute. Athan stopped, transfixed, staring at the man, unsure what to do. Finally, he managed: "I mean no disrespect, Commodore, but my people haven't served in a military at any time in recorded history."

Commodore Blakeley lowered his hand, looking disappointed, but thankfully not offended. "I was under the impression the Praetorian Guard would be overseeing the relocation efforts here on Amorris, and all related on-site projects."

"Uhh. . ." Athan was suddenly and unavoidably forced to acknowledge something he should have realized long ago: though his people were now citizens of the Cooperative, there was very little any of them really knew about the nation itself, or the larger Coalition it was a member of. "I'm just here to make sure my men know what they're doing, Commodore. I'm not very high up in the grand scheme of things; I just do what I'm told, and don't ask questions I don't want answers to."

Hundreds of droids were now pouring from the Halmad ships, carrying out large, partly-disassembled sections of all types of farming equipment. The commodore gestured toward a newly deposited stack of components, and Athan signaled several nearby Ryn to join them. "Farming is the oldest occupation in human history," The commodore said casually. "It accommodates the most basic need of all organic life, and is fairly simple in concept. You plant a seed, you water it, you watch it grow, and then you harvest it. So simple, and yet so vital. Wars have raged, nations have fallen, and entire species have been extinguished because of the simple act of farming, and the unforeseen obstacles that have arisen when intelligent beings sought to corral and contain the forces of nature.

"We will, of course, be leaving experienced farmers and workers to help ensure that your men get the training they need."

"The Cooperative is sending all the farmers they can find, here, so your men won't be working with totally inexperienced people," Athan said, and it seemed to offer some comfort to the commodore, as he reflexively cast a venomous look at the small group of Ryn who had gathered around the stack of supplies.

"Very well, then," The Halmad man said, returning his attention to Athan, a look of slight indecision on his face, and then—having made up his mind—he extended his hand to Athan.

Athan, who had been fully aware of the apparent discomfort the older human was having at being in such close proximity to so many Ryn, smiled appreciatively, and shook the commodore's hand. "Good day, Commodore. The people of the Coalition, the Commonwealth, the Cooperative, and the Ryn Nation thank you from the deepest reaches of our souls."

The commodore was unsure how to respond. "Yes, well, we owed the Cooperative, in a way; this should take care of that." He paused for a moment, still looking a little confused. "Did you say Ryn [T]Nation?"

Athan smiled. "Yes, Sir, I did."

Commodore Blakeley nodded in understanding, and turning to leave, mumbled quietly about "Leave it up to the Cooperative," and Athan was sure he heard something about a "giant droid." The smile on Athan's face burst into a laugh, and he turned and walked toward his fellow Ryn, feeling a pride in his people that he hadn't felt in a long time.


Amorris, Settlement 002

"Good people, good people," A middle-aged man in a Cooperative Defense Force uniform was pleading, staring out at a group of over a thousand gathered Onyxians. "Please, if everyone would just calm down, this would—" Some kind of food tray flew by, inches from the CDF officer's head.

"We demand appropriate treatment, or we demand that you let us leave!" The shrill voice had come from the crowd.

"Now, now, you're in no position to be making demands." That didn't help. Neither did the chuckle that accompanied it.

As the enraged crowd threatened to surge forward and drag the plump man from the stage he was standing on, another figure stepped forward, whispered into the man's ear, and then gestured for him to leave the stage. The newcomer pulled back his cloak and began speaking: "Good people of the former Onyxian Commonwealth, I am Ambassador Traan Shi of the Cooperative of Systems. I am hear to assure you that the Cooperative has taken every available measure to ensure that all of your needs are met. This is a difficult time, and it is absolutely essential that we move forward in a spirit of cooperation, and good faith."

"We want off this rock!" Another voice yelled.

Traan smiled, a sort of sad, pitiable smile. "And where would you go? And how would you get there?"

"We won't be herded around like animals!" A new voice rang out. Apparently, this particular crowd didn't feel like listening today.

"We must obtain your identities now, before the bulk of the Onyxian evacuees arrive, or it may be weeks—even months—before anyone even knows that you are here."

"We have identity cards! Onyxian identity cards!"

"The Onyxian Commonwealth no longer exists," Traan responded flatly, firmly.

"Long live the Commonwealth!"

"The Empire has come to Onyx; the Commonwealth is dead. You are citizens of the Galactic Coalition, and dependents of the Cooperative of Systems." Traan's voice was growing louder and more forceful, on the verge of yelling. "We will feed you, we will clothe you, we will shelter you, and we will identify you. You will remain here, under our care and supervision, until such a time as we have the means to transport you to the Coalition world of your choice, provided said world is willing to accept you. Go back to your families and friends, and stop disrupting us from our work; it's your people we're trying to protect and preserve." Kerrick was pretty sure that he hadn't helped matters any, but at least he'd tried. He stepped off the stage, leaving the angry crowd to do as they pleased."

"I thought we were trying to keep a low profile," Kerrick Arkanus said a moment later as they walked away. Kerrick dropped his own hood. "What are we doing here, anyway? We should get out of here."

Traan turned to Kerrick and gave him a look that closely resembled one Kerrick himself had worn not very long ago, on Valacar. "I will not leave this place until I know that it does not need me." Traan turned and began to walk off. "You can come, or you can go. Choose." With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, Kerrick fell in step beside Traan.

"Now," Kerrick asked, "what's this I hear about the Praetorian Guard taking over the relocation?"

Traan continued walking, showing no sign he had heard Kerrick. "They've offered their help, but they'll be under the oversight of the Cooperative, as long as they're in our space and on our worlds." Traan looked over, and seeing Kerrick's unconvinced face, continued: "The Onyxians trust them; it'll be good for them to see some familiar faces, so to speak. And besides, we can use all the help we can get."

"There's something else, isn't there?" Kerrick said accusingly.

"Well, the Praetorian Guard was based in Commonwealth space."

"And," Kerrick said forcefully.

"And we've agreed to allow them to establish a temporary base of operations within Cooperative space, until someone a little higher up in the Coalition sees fit to relocate them."

Kerrick didn't look happy at all. He had been responsible for helping to shape the Cooperative Defense Force, and while recent events had seriously delayed his plans, and had left the Cooperative in a dangerously weak position militarily, he didn't like the idea of some Coalition order of super-soldiers setting up base in his back yard. Traan couldn't help but feel that there was a lot more to Kerrick than he let on. He claimed to be a military man, and the Overseer had supported that claim, but Kerrick had just sort of appeared out of nowhere, and no one seemed to know much about him.

"Ah, here we are," Traan said suddenly, breaking the moment of silence that had fallen. A massive, segmented, collapsible building stood before them, the kind often used by any number of shady organizations that find the need to move frequently and leave little evidence of their presence. A small sign had been driven into the ground next to the door, reading "Onyxian Relocation Central Command."

The two walked into the building, down a short hallway, and into the largest room in the structure, where they were met immediately by a flood of activity. Men, women, bugs, Ryn, and a creature that looked peculiarly like a cow, were running about, shouting orders, reading incoming messages, and passing around various copies of high-priority what-nots and so-forths from. . . everywhere. No one seemed to have noticed the arrival of the most senior ambassador of the Cooperative of Systems.

"Excuse me," Traan said loudly, but calmly. There was no indication that anyone had heard. "Excuse me!" Nothing. "May I have your attention please!" They continued on, ignoring him.

A loud, crashing bang filled the room coming from somewhere behind Traan, and he turned—along with everyone in the room—to see Kerrick Arkanus, the remnants of a large plant pot at his feet. Kerrick shook the soil off his shoes and gestured to Traan; the expression on his face said just what Traan wanted to hear: "You have the floor."

"Thank you, Commander," Traan said sharply, then turned to face the agitated crowd of workers. "The time has come; the hour is now; they are here." As if on cue, the room filled with the beeps and buzzes of countless incoming messages. "You have about fifteen minutes to get your act together, and then the first wave of a storm that is likely to continue and intensify over the next two weeks will have arrived."

Several of the people tried to return to their work; the ceaseless beeping of their workstations were calling to them. "DON'T MOVE," Traan roared, showing a ferocity no one had seen since long before his time with the Cooperative. His voice dropped to an abnormally quiet level, barely audible over the background noise, but he spoke with an earnestness as unfamiliar as the ferocity it replaced. "This is it. Can you feel it? We live and die by the promises we make, and the oaths we cannot fulfill. You're all that we have; this task is yours, and yours alone. Will we fail, or will we succeed?

"We are not ready, that much is certain, but I must ask you: are you willing? Are you willing, in the midst of your unreadiness, to accept the fates of countless souls? Are you willing to prove the value and commitment of the Cooperative of Systems, or fail in the unready attempt? Are you willing to save a society from extinction, or watch as our nation dies, holding the corpse of theirs?

"Today may very well be the day that the Cooperative rises to greatness, or falls to anonymity. This is a burden we cannot bear, but we have chosen to bear it, regardless. Will you?

"Choose!" Traan shouted the final word, a shout that reverberated through the cavernous room for several seconds. He waited patiently to see what would happen.

"So long as there are those who stand for justice; so long as there are those who believe in freedom; so long as there are those who would choose death over deceit, hope over fear, and mercy over vengeance; then I will not fail." The eyes of the room had shifted from Traan to a point somewhere behind him and to the left, to a voice the ambassador had never heard before; a solemn, worn voice that carried a gravity Traan had rarely encountered. A man stepped forward, a man Traan Shi had never seen before.

"I will not fail!" Kerrick Arkanus yelled to the motionless crowd, his hand clenching into a fist by his side. "I WILL NOT FAIL!" His balled fist moved upward, coming to rest on his heart, as if swearing some secret oath to some unseen master. "We will not fail." His voice had become quiet, his hand dropped back to his side, and before Traan's eyes, the man he knew returned, and the stranger who had spoken was no longer with them.

Kerrick was just standing there, his head bowed slightly, staring at the floor. Seizing the moment, certain that it was what Kerrick had wanted, Traan stepped hurriedly forward, shouting orders to the few people he recognized, gesturing to others, pulling random datapads out of people's hands, checking to see what they were supposed to be doing, and then shooing them on their way. The room filled with action once more, just as loud, just as chaotic, but somehow more meaningful, more fulfilling. Traan stood in the midst of them all, running about, issuing orders, making suggestions, overruling dozens of the ridiculous commands and requests that came trickling in from far-off leaders who knew nothing of the struggle these loyal servants of freedom were fighting on behalf of their brothers and sisters, whom they had never met.

It had begun; the storm had come to the Cooperative.

Contrary to the widely popular belief of the inhabitants of this wretched and rebellious sector of space, the Empire was very much in control. It started before the moment evacuation began. It started before the moment Prime Minister Regrad agreed to the terms set out by his benevolent Emperor, Daemon Hyfe. It started the moment the fleet, under Grand Admiral Desaria crossed the borders in response to the Billbringi attack by the rogue state.

The Empire was granting two weeks for those that wished to leave to actually leave the area that was now Imperial.

And many it seemed were wanting to take advantage of the Galactic Emperor's benevolence.

Some, it seemed wished to take advantage of it. And it was those people that would prove disasterous for the rest.



Onyx

Imperial Occupation Temporary Headquarters


"Sir?" Grand Admiral Desaria's fleet had been stationed at the new temporary headquarters and the former installations of the Commonwealth Military were now firmly in the hands of the thousand of soldiers who came through the Gree Hypergate from the Imperial fortress world of Asation to Onyx.

It was what allowed the Empire to rapidly gain control of the world during the instant of Regrad's capitulation for a refusal of the Coalition Prime Minister would have seen a nuclear holocaust of planetwide preportions from within the defense sphere of the former Commonwealth Capital. Such weapons of mass destruction launched from the Hyperpgate would have destroyed the world ...or at the very least blasted the world back to an age it hadn't seen for several eons.

Orders from the Grand Admiral were to observe those fleeing and not to prevent the exodus.

But the orders were very specific.

Those that destroyed the property of the Empire were no longer non-combatants and were no longer desiring the benevolence of his glorious majesty the Emperor Hyfe.

Those that took Imperial property with them were considered looters and thieves and no longer protected under the benevolent agreement settled between the Prime Minister and the Galactic Emperor.

As Telen Desaria looked over the reports coming in from all worlds under Imperial observation, he frowned.

With the millions of people in the space between borders, a group called the Cooperative were wanting to play games?

Herr Major General Grevalt looked at his Grand Admiral, the medals on the man's chest as impressive as his bearing and stood ramrod straight.

Desaria gave a single nod.

A small gesture to be sure but one who's meaning was crystal clear.

As the Grand Admiral moved on, Major General Grevalt nodded to the comm officers.

"Send this message to the Cooperative and all those fleeing the Occupation Zone. All property within the former Onyxian Commonwealth is considered Imperial property. The benevolence of his majesty Emperor Hyfe in allowing the former members of this rogue state the choice to leave will not be marred by self glorifying and greedy individuals. Any destruction of Imperial property during the evacuation will be paid for two-fold by the offending parties. There have been noted damages to the facilities on several worlds. The Empire's value assessment will be sent to the offending parties for payment upon receipt or we will seize any and all assets of those parties by force. The Coalition nor the Empire will stand for yet another region gone rogue operating outside the parameters their government has dictated it will abide by.

Such willful destruction intentional or through gross neglegence or incompletence will not be tolerated. Your compliance is expected or you will be expelled forcefully."

Major General Grevalt finished the message and a soldier frowned walking up.
"So, who's going to be the Governor over the Zone?"

"My money is on Desaria but until the orders come through... "

"The 13th, 11th and 2nd are arriving in-sector tomorrow."