The Rebel Faction

Gash Jiren stood on the bridge of the Hermes, staring out into the great, inky blackness of space. A trully broad place... so many to protect. So many to save from their own stupidity, from the greed of others. It became overwhealming at times- which, Gash speculated, was perhaps the reason so many Jedi turned to the struggle inside of them. That didn't make the self-obsession plaguing the Jedi Order okay; it made it understandable. But the sooner the Jedi realize that the galaxy revolves around a supermassive black hole, and not their little moral struggles, the better off we'll be. In the mean time, he was quite content to have nothing to do with the Jedi Council...

The Prophecies of Xal Kra had spoken of the convergence of wars, a time of great troubles and tribulation. A time where wars between Jedi and Sith, Republics and Empires, even Computer and Man would occur, and come to a head at once, melding and swirling into one gigantic conflict from which no one would be safe. How could they be so sure that time wasn't now?

The New Republic warred with the New Order. A war he was a part of.

The Sith warred with the Jedi. A war his son was a part of.

The Entity warred with man. A war everyone would soon be a part of.

Which called into question the Rogue Jedi Master's decision to break from the Jedi Council. There was a clear side of good in each war- shouldn't they ally, become one force of light in the universe? No. The Jedi could not be made to look away from their battles of morality, the New Republic would not see beyond their beaurocratic political battles, and man would only be concerned with himself. Every side was so concerned with themselves, they could not see the larger picture. For the enemies were greedy, and would have no opposition to allying with each other for personal gain.

But the Rogue Jedi Order would assist each side. An active assailant, they would work by whatever means necessary to attack with, defend, and assist their allies. The forces of good could not be left to fend for themselves, simply because the Jedi would not be spurred into action beyond their own concerns.

If falling once again to the Dark Side was the price of saving a trillion lives, Searthen Jiren would gladly pay that sum.

Besides that, Gash was better equipped to fight the perils of falling to darkness than any other Jedi in the galaxy; Leia Organa Solo, Luke Skywalker, Kahn. He had delved deeper into the hatred, the Sith sorcery, than any other Sith, excepting Recon Klain. He knew more of the Dark Side than any Jedi, even Kahn. Gash could fight that which he knew, while they could not touch what they knew naught of.

Except, maybe Xylon... Gash smiled at that. That was true enough... Xylon had been a powerful Sith, as powerful as he. Though perhaps not as knowledgeable on the arts of Sith Sorcery, he certainly possessed unimaginable power. But Xylon, too, was a Rogue Jedi. It seemed the plight of those who knew of what they fought, which reassured Gash of his path.

'Admiral Jiren?' called a metallic drone from behind him. For a moment or two, Gash did not respond- Admiral Jiren? He wasn't Admiral- Oh, that was right.

"Yes?"

'D31 is back from his patrol, sir.'

"Ahh, good... I need some lively banter to save me from my own thoughts.

'Well,' said the Cobra Battledroid, with a bit of distain entering his voice, 'D31 certainly provides that.' Apparently, the droids' who served on the Hermes admiration for Gash's first droid creation, D31, had lessened. Probably due to the fact that Gash had given the droid's mind the ability to evolve to the point of absolute sentience- resulting in a loss of the "servant" attitude the other Cobra Battledroids bore. DeeThree thought for himself, insulted his master, and apparently, the other Cobras thought that behavior unbecoming of a droid.

"He does, at that. Tell him to get up here, when he finishes."

'Yes, sir.'

Gash smiled slightly. Very slightly. Every time D31 returned, it was like the homecoming of an old friend- except that the droid so rarely bore good news. So maybe it was more like the return of an old enemy. But, regardless, DeeThree had always been a great help to Gash. From the moment of his creation when Gash was a young Sith following Recon Klain to Ziost, D31 had been nothing but loyal and exceptionally useful- despite the insulting nature of any conversation the two of them shared.

Well, he kept things interesting, at least.

"Do we, now, DeeThree? Why, bad news, borne by you? I never would have guessed." Gash barked a short laugh and turned around, away from the bridge's viewport, to face the droid.

'Cut the bantha dung, Jiren. This is serious, and it ain't something you'll want to ignore.' It was curious for a droid to use 'ain't'- but it seemed, the longer D31 lived, the more curious mannerisms he acquired. Apparently, the use of profanity and slang was the primary change.

"Really? Well, do-" Gash's voice was cut off by a beeping, a sound originating from the central console aboard the Hermes' bridge. As the Rogue Jedi Master turned, a sharp inhalation was heard by everyone on board the bridge. A small light was flashing on a short rhythm... that was...

Gash's private hypercomm link. Channel X09Z. The communcations channel reserved under New Republic law, endcoded heavily and locked to all but Gash's most trusted friends and allies. Among those permitted to call him on the channel were Xylon Hexyra, Leia Organa Solo, and his mother- Queen-Matron Ellisia Jiren.

"DeeThree, route that through to my prosthetic arm comm, please."

'Yeah. There you... go.'

"Good."

The flatpanel on his prothetic arm's communications panel shuddered for a moment, and after just a second, the image of Gash's mother formed on the little screen. The Queen of Asthentia looked distraught, he normally carefully-groomed hair gone wild, violet eyes filled with worry. Gash, concerned, spoke only quietly to her.

"Mother...? What is wrong?"

'Oh, Searthen, please... something's happened. We're under attack... we...' --Static...-- '.....Joruck....' --Static-- 'Denti!'

Joruck Denti... Damn. Gash sword aloud, cursing the day he didn't cut that fiend's head off when he had the chance. But he had blown up the Phostosil mine... no one should have been able to survive that. No one. It was impossible... but... still...

"Mother!?"

The transmission cut, with the bitter hiss of static replacing his mother's frantically urgent voice. Gash shook his head, turning away from the screen to stare silently at D31. Even the droid looked mournful...

That didn't sound good.'

"No, it most certainly did not. I thought I had killed Joruck. I was sure of it... the day I met Garric."

That quieted Gash again, as well. His young cousin had not followed him on his journey to Yavin 4, preferring to stay on Naboo with Leia Organa Solo... this, too, was painful. Gash's life seemed to be nothing but pain...

No. Gash erased that thought; self pity accomplished nothing. Nothing at all; in reality, Gash actually had quite a privelidged life. A Jedi Master, with a brilliant mind, perfect health, and all the wealth he could ever need provided by his position as the crown Prince of Asthentia. Which is where I'm going right now... I owe them that.

He nodded to DeeThree, but before he could speak, D31 did.

'A course to Asthentia?'

That elicited a small smile.

"Yes, DeeThree. Yes."

One hypercomm call later, they were hurtling towards Gash's world of origin.

* * * *

Gash's hand slid slowly up towards his right shoulder, to rub up against the new prosthetic implant he'd had put there. It covered the wound made by the claw of Malice Draclau, digging deep into his flesh and pentrating several neural pathways, damaging his arm's ability to function. As a consequence of Gash's allergy to bacta, it took a new shoulder plate prosthetic to repair it... every hit he took, another chunk got cut out of him. He'd almost lost the entire arm.

It never seemed to stop him from rushing off into combat; when he'd become a Jedi, Gash had expected a sharp reduction in the violence faction in his life. As it turned out, it seemed to be the exact opposite...

The Jedi Master tapped his hypercomm console, bringing up a list of frequencies and their users. Gash scrolled down to Xylon's frequency, bringing it up on the main with another tap of a button. Several statistics flowed across the display, indicating the Neo-Katana flotilla was well on it's way to the Asthentian system, as well as he. It would take more muscle than one little Marauder Corvette to defend Asthentia.

Gash flicked off the hypercomm, then restarted the system, tapping in the address of the great temple on Yavin 4. He quickly rerouted it to the loudspeaker systems, so that all of the Jedi of RJO would be able to hear.

"Rogue Jedi Order members, it is requested you launch immediately. Take either an X-wing or E-wing, we have enough of either; which ever you are more comfortable with is preferable. Set a course for the Asthentian system."

* * * *

The Hermes lept swiftly out of hyperspace, the thin, sleek ship a deadly jungle cat against a black backdrop. The five TIE Banes on her under side detached silently in the cold vaccuum of space, soaring off into a defensive pattern about the Marauder Corvette. Twelve deadly I-7 Howlrunners, Gash's mass-production ship of choice, soared out of the docking bay.

Ionized gas expelled from the engines of the craft, brushing up against the hull and creating the "engine scream" so often associated with fighter craft.

Gash simply stared out the thin, rectangular view port of the bridge. Looming in the distance was the main sequence star marking his home planet's primary, majestic and graceful and deadly all at the same time. Perfect, was what it was; main sequence stars yielded the greatest portion of inhabitable planets in the galaxy. The galaxy in which they resided was full of them: spiral galaxies housed young stars, irregular ones old stars, eliptical ones the oldest stars. Simple science, from which sprung the greatest mysteries and beauties.

This was not going to be beautiful or mysterious, by any means.

Even from their distance from the core of the Asthentian system, Gash could quite simply pick out the disaster looming from his planet of birth; a swarm of fighters surrounding the planet, with three Dreadnaughts and four Carracks seemingly the basis of the assault. The ships would not be so hard to deal with, given the Neo-Katana flotilla's growing size; the real problem would be eliminating them and keeping the populace safe from harm.

"DeeThree? What do their transponders read?"

'Nothing. They don't seem to have them, or else switched them off."

"Ah. Pirates."

'My thoughts exactly.'

It seemed Joruck Denti had found himself allies in the scum of the universe. Not surprising; the last time Gash and Denti had met, he'd been scheming to harness Gash's powers as a Sith, probably in order to conquer Asthentia.

Gash was the Prince-Master of Asthentia; no one was conquering his world here, not now, not this day. The Jedi Master turned to face D31, speaking with a slow, daring sort of calm.

"Keep our ship on an circle of the star, at this distance. Order two of the TIE Banes to cloak, and head in for recon duty. If the Asthentians are broadcasting anything, it will be on channel O1119Z. Have them tune to that."

'We're not heading in?'

"No. We will wait; wait for the cavalry to arrive. Our fleet, and our squadron, should be here directly."

'Yee-haw.'

Gash smirked at the droid, watching the two TIE Banes depart from the defensive formation. In an instant, it was as if someone had poured opaque black water onto them; they shuddered, shimmered, as the JirenTech CloakGens activated. Then they were gone, soaring off invisibly to gather information on the battle to come.

Those left on the Hermes could only eagerly await their word, and the arrival of their allies.

*Zark had also heard the message. <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Time for some chaos<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, he thought to himself. He hurried down the empty, desolate, hall way and took the stairs. The halls seemed to be abandoned. <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Damn, I'm the last one.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, he slapped his hand against his forhead. He soon reached the hanger and dashed to his E-Wing. He could see his R5 droid slowly and steadily being lifted over to the E-Wing and soon would be placed in the socket.*

"Hey, how you doing?"

*The astromech droid beeped cheerfully.*

"Good to hear it."

*Zark climbed into the cockpit and turned the systems on. He fitted his helmet on and did the pre-flight check. It didn't seem like very long before he was finished. <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Now all I have to do is wait for them to give me clearence to take off, get in formation, and survive a battle<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, Zark thought, chuckling, <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> You can just make everything a joke, can't you Zark?<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->.

"Hey, R5, is everything working okay?"

*Zark knew everying was fine, but it didn't hurt to ask. The droid beeped and Zark looked at the panel to see the translation.*

"Alright, they'll be telling us to take off any second now."

*Just as soon as the words came out of his mouth a gruff, annoyed voice was heard over the comm.*

"Blue Four, you are clear for take off."

*Zark smirked.*

"About time, roger that."

*With that, Zark pulled back the throttle and slammed forward the thrusters. He flew out of the desolate hanger and into space.*

With a screaming wail that no one could hear in the inky black vaccuum of space, the two sets of ships lept from hyperspace with two minutes in between one another. First, in a flash of light, came the New Republic's Neo-Katana Flotilla, and second, the members of the Rogue Jedi Order, flying a combination of E-wings and X-wings.

The Neo-Katana Flotilla was a recent attempt at re-creating the fabled Katana fleet; a huge fleet of Dreadnaught cruisers, all painted a fearsome black in an effort to appear intimidating to opponents. They just as well may have not done so: the Katana Fleet was so massive, composed of roughly 200 Dreadnaughts, that just about any opponent quickly discovered they were, in fact, victims. The Neo-Katana Flotilla hadn't quite made it to such menacing proportions, but was making it's way to doing so.

"Order the ships into Z201 formation. Tell the squadron to form up on the Hermes, and set a course for Asthentia."

Gash quickly took an attendance check of all forces, then began barking out orders. Like a startled puppy vornskr, the droids seemed to leap into action, spurred on by Gash's voice. The Maiden's Touch, the only non-Dreadnaught ship in the Neo-Katana flotilla, hailed, and Gash ordered acceptance of the transmission. The image of the Mon Calamari MC-90A ship shot out of the holoprojector, and turned to face Gash.

"Captain. I trust all is well?"

'Yes, Admiral Jiren. Mr. Hexyra was brief in his dispatching of the Flotilla; might you further explain the situation?'

"Indeed. It seems the third world in the star's orbit, Asthentia, is under assault from a group of pirates lead by a... nemesis, of mine."

'What does the enemy force consist of?'

"Three Dreadnaughts, four Corellian corvettes."

'I see, sir. What are your orders?'

"Get into the formation ordered by my men, and fire at will on the pirates when in range. My personal squadrons will assist you in eliminating the fighters, so I ask you to concentrate on the frigates. I will go ground level; should I request orbittal fire, please follow my order."

'Yes, Admiral Jiren. Maiden's Touch out.'

The hologram crackled, lost it's cohesiveness, and disappeared. With a great moan of dispersed gases vibrating the Hermes' atmosphere, the Dreadnaughts moved into a triangular position with the Maiden's Touch at the head, and Gash's ship at the center. The two squadrons of fighters swarmed around the Marauder Corvette, as three more launched from the various ships.

D31 spoke up.

'Gash, the two TIE Banes are back. They're uncloaking... hmm. They have some sort of message to play you. Picked it up on the channel you suggested.'

"Punch it up on the main holo display, DeeThree."

'Done.'

The familiar image of General Dryland- whom Gash had met on his first visit to Asthentia- shuddered into being- albeit a shakey, static filled half life of a being. He spoke in stops and starts, as though distracted.

'I don't --Static-- they've got three divisions --Static-- I don't know --Static-- soldiers falling --static...'

The image faded, and Gash looked about the bridge solemnly.

"That is most certainly not good."

The New Republic and Rogue Jedi Order forces closed in with the pirate ships, and with a start, the holoprojecter shuddered right back on again. It projected the image... of Joruck Denti. But his visage was scarred, and his speach slurred ever so slightly.

'Jiren! Damnit, you bastard! What are you doing back here?!'

"Destroying your meager fleet, I think, Joruck."

'Go ahead! You won't get me!'

Gash cocked an eyebrow as the transmission cut abruptly.

"He's groundside, I think. Order all our squadrons to engage the enemy fighters. Make sure the Neo-Katana flotilla begins firing on the capital vessels, starting with the Dreadnaught."

And with that, the two forces of massive durasteel beasts closed the last bit of distance separating them from firing range, and red and green lances of super heated, tightly packed energy leapt out from the amassed forces.

OOC: In case you missed that, boys, start shooting their fighters. Their force is rag-tag, so you can RP them having whatever kind of ships you like.