The Rebel Faction

Man is not an aquatic animal, but from the time we stand in youthful wonder beside a spring brook till we sit in old age and watch the endless roll of the sea, we feel a strong kinship with the waters of this world.
-Hal Borland

Tropix Island, Dorumaa

“I’ll take a glass of Leena, thank you.”

“It’ll be with you shortly.”

Adrian nodded back at the waitress, who promptly wandered off to retrieve his drink. This is ridiculous. I’m sitting down in a frakking bar, and that’s half of my mission briefing. Maybe the CSIS director has gone nuts. His eyes glanced around the bar. Patrons, both native and offworld, all wearing tropical clothing, mingled with each other in a lively party atmosphere. A warm breeze swept in through the windows, mixing the scents of saltwater and a plethora of perfumes and colognes, and caressing Ravenna’s face. He smiled, his head slightly bobbing with the soft, seductive beats of the music which through the bar’s interior.

“Here you go, sir,” stated the waitress, handing him an amber-coloured drink.

“Thank you Miss.”

He grasped the cheap glass, and sipped the cinnamon flavored drink.

“Hey you.”

The Jensaarai glanced up, to see a young woman take the seat on the other side of his table. Her hazel eyes pierced his own. She twirled a strand of bleached blonde hair. Ravenna shoved his glass to his mouth. Who the hell is this? He mentally recalled his briefing. No, this shouldn’t be my contact, I think. He cautiously lowered his glance, and stared her back into her eyes.

“Hi there,” replied the Susevfian, “do I know you from somewhere?”

She flashed a smile. “No, but you should.”

He blinked.

“Let’s dance,” suggested the woman, leaning in closer to the man.

Adrian winced as he smelt her breath. She’s been drinking. Wonderful. This is always what I wanted to do; dance with a drunk girl. Kitty would probably kill me. Or will, if I dance with her. He mentally sighed and closed his eyes. He focused his mind and probed into the mind of the girl, feeling an unusual aura of euphoria and chaotic thoughts. He tugged at one of her emotions. She frowned. You don’t want to dance with me; I’m a loser.

“I don’t want to dance with you, you’re a loser,” commented the woman, rising from the table.

That was easy. Though I suppose if they aren’t really thinking, it isn’t hard to influence them...

Three hours later, Swenson found himself sitting on the beach, at the water’s edge. A cool, salty breeze pushed through the muggy air and brushed up against his profile. A smile rippled across the elementalist’s face. He lifted his eyes to the sky, picking out the stars which had begun to light the tropical sky. But these celestial pricks paled in comparison to the glowing orb that was Almas, which dominated the view of its satellite. And to think that the Force transcends and pours itself through all of those little stars, and through the blackness to things I cannot possibly see or even imagine. Truly a divine power. His face wrinkled into a frown. And yet it is one that slumbers; one that simply lets greatness, whether good or evil, take a hold of it and use to their own ends. What kind of power is this? One that simply does not care? Or one that is not self-aware…not even animalistic… Sand squeaking under the tread of boots jolted Swenson out of his reverie. The stout man slowly rose from the beach, and glanced at a dark-haired man wearing khaki trousers and a checkered blue and white shirt.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” said the elementalist.

Adrian threw up his hands, palms facing the starry sky. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Our contact didn’t show up.”

Swenson frowned. “Intelligence contacts don’t just disappear…”

“Yeah, I know…there wasn’t even a guy there who looked remotely like the contact.”

“Knocked off? It would fit in with the mission detail…start taking care of security before the delegates arrive,” suggested Robert.

Ravenna amiably nodded. “If they got the contact, they probably know about us.”

“The hotel won’t be safe then.”

“No, it won’t. Back to the ship, I suppose,” sighed Adrian.

The alien squinted at Adrian. “Must you bring your evil ways here too, Sith, and make your state Dorumaa’s overlord too?”

“I’m not a Sith,” replied Adrian, “and neither is my friend here.”

“You lie,” spat out the creature, “the very name of Jensaarai is in Sith. First you have desecrated our temple, and now you think that the Jedi will simply let you expand your puppet state at will…”

“Search your feelings, focus on us,” calmly coaxed Ravenna, “Do you feel the taint of the darkside on us?”

Apprehension seized control of Swenson; he felt his hands began to sweat. By the maker…there’s a Jedi and six gunmen...Adrian is good, but he’s not that good…I have a hold-out…but that won’t really help us out that much…As the Tarasin traded blows of logic with the Jensaarai, logic’s rule over Swenson’s mind was assaulted by sheer emotion; what good was logic when it told that everything was futile? When it had no answer to the problems encountered? In times like these, logic was useless. Robert almost immediately felt the primal urging which had seized him early this same morning. Its focused energy and emotion crashed against the crumbling wall of rationality. It was as if standing on the wall, and he plunged into the depths of those urges; the old Swenson was washed away, drowned, and reborn anew; a man who had no use for logic, nor for any of the obligations and knowledge which had both brought to the man to his highest and lowest points in his history. He was vaguely aware of them, but they seemed of no concern to him. His sweating stopped.

“…if you cannot admit your deceit and repent, you shall both die,” boomed the alien.

At that moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion. Several of the apparent Jedi’s companions snapped off shots from their blasters at the pair of Jensaarai. Ravenna hurriedly whipped his saber about in the tight arcs of Soresu to intercept the incoming bolts; the other gunmen began to raise their weapons, and the apparent Jedi leaned forward to sprint at the duo. Swenson felt his hands spring out to his sides, and not in his control; as if a marionette in some gothic holo-drama. He felt the minutely painful, and tingling, surge of energy drawn from the Force unknowingly flow through his body and suffuse into the air of the strip mall around him. The energy seemed to all flow back to him through tiny strands.

His palms slammed together in front of him.

The vaporous molecules rapidly compressed into a mist as if drawn in by a black hole; forming an impromptu visual barrier in front of the two Jensaarai. He felt a pulse of surprise from Adrian, who then freed his left hand from his saber’s hilt, and used it to channel a Force push at the Tarasin and his interlopers. Several muted grunts answered them, and Adrian began to run. With a glance from Ravenna, the possessive spirit fled Swenson, and the Elementalist began to run away too; not in an orderly retreat of the Jensaarai warrior’s, but that of a person fleeing an intimidating mugger in wild panic.

The Jedi’s attention to Adrian sputtered with the sound of the blaster fire. He instinctively turned to face the blaster fire, and whipped his saber about in long flourishes to deflect the oncoming bolts. He succeeded, and the bolts bounced into the innards of the Rogue Shadow, leaving behind scorch marks and a light scent of burnt paint and ozone.

But in succeeding, he failed.

Adrian launched a force push from his free hand at the distracted Jedi, who promptly crashed into the durasteel bulwarks and bounced off with a sickly thud. The somewhat concussed and bleeding Jedi stumbled towards the Jensaarai warrior. Adrian made a quick thrust at the Jedi, who wildly parried in exaggerated arc. The alien wavered for a few moments and unleashed his own attack, a broad sweeping attack that completely missed the warrior, and succeeded in showering sparks across the Shadow’s deck. Ravenna struck again at the Jedi…

And Swenson’s body merely stood, just staring at the dueling pair; a smug grin plastered on his face. Bob’s captive mind felt a mixture of amusement and annoyance sweep through his brain from his mental overlord. His hand dropped the holdout blaster; its power pack had been completely drained. Indefatigably, his body lurched stiffly forward, despite its tiredness, towards the freighter’s two other occupants. Neither of who paid any attention to him, so consumed were they in their duel.

Swenson’s body halted, and thrust out his hands at the Jedi. He felt the primal urge force more Force energy to flow through his body; it trickled in like mountain streams feeding a valley reservoir. As its reserve grew, the Jensaarai felt a tingling sensation flow throughout his body and with it, minute pricks of pain. His overlord ushered forth a familiar procedure to his mind, albeit on a more grandiose scale. Through his body, the primal urge channeled the energy to suffuse into the air around the Tarasin. Air platelets, molecules, and atoms around began to shift around the being, gradually accelerating as Swenson unwillingly manipulated the air, and formed gentle currents about the alien. Swenson’s exiled mind noticed the energy begin to leave his body at an accelerated pace, and noticed his subconscious concentration on the molecules increase. The currents of gases bulged into roaring headwaters, whipping away gaseous molecules and vapors around and from the alien at a prodigious rate. Moisture was ripped away from the being’s skin, starting an accelerated process of evaporation, and rapidly cooled the alien.

The tropically-raised alien began to involuntarily cringe as the temperature around his body dropped. He lost his concentration, and dropped his saber with a clatter from the freezing pain. Letting out a tormented scream, the Jedi dropped to the floor in a huddled heap; he was not himself. And yet Swenson continued, forcing the air around him to leech away the being’s heat; his body’s own pain increased.

Adrian drew his own service pistol with his free hand, and promptly shot the apparent Jedi with a trio of stun bolts; not only for the Jensaarai’s protection, but also for the alien’s own comfort. Ravenna stared at Swenson warily.

“He is down,” pointed out the warrior.

Swenson’s body flashed a grin. “He is right now.”

Adrian frowned. “What has come over you? First you're terrified of him, and now you’re ruthlessly tormenting him? Stop, it just isn’t needed anymore.”

“Perhaps you Jensaarai think so,” replied Swenson’s body irritably.

Adrian tilted his battle stance to face the Metalorn native. “Stop it. I feel like you don’t even know me.”

The air currents stopped whirling about and disintegrated, forcing rapid temperature fluctuations around the alien. Swenson’s body merely shook his head.

“You don't even know me, apparently; claiming my aid in your times of trouble, and living with me on a daily basis. And yet none of you see who I really am. Maybe you will see sometime. But for now, I grant you and your friend peace.”

The spirit left Swenson’s body, and the Metalorn native collapsed unconscious onto the metal deck out of exhaustion.

Melbourne Island, Dorumaa

“Sir yes sir!”

“Ah, at ease, I think,” replied Adrian sheepishly.

He walked over to next guard, briefly inspected her, and moved on. I wonder who has it worse; Bob locked up in an escape pod, or me leading a bunch of overzealous security guards. Side-stepping to inspect the next soldier, he immediately was drawn to several bulges in the man’s belt. He drew his lips into his mouth, and gestured at the belt.

“What are those, soldier?”

The man slightly blushed. “Ah, glop grenades sir. For use in capturing enemy personnel. I know they’re not standard sir, but well…I thought they could be useful, and the armorer had no problem giving them to me; said the mission was important enough.”

“I see,” noted the warrior, “just be careful with them. We don’t need our own security accidentally getting hit by them too.”

“Yes sir.”

“All right, the delegation will be arriving in a half hour; I want everyone in their positions at least fifteen minutes before their arrival, and even earlier if you can get there. Got it?”

A round of affirmatives answered the Jensaarai warrior, and the camouflaged security personnel scurried to their hidden monitoring stations set up around Hotel Melbourne; a private hotel which had been hastily rented for the occasion for federal use. With the Dorumaa Security Forces having secured the inside of the hotel, CSIS had taken on the role of securing the outside of the hotel, acting as a first alarm group and first line of defence. Most of this involved CSIS personnel hidden within the trees as snipers or hiding in bushes to monitor key pathways towards the secluded hotel. Only two of the Confederation guards were not hidden, and they guarded the front gate. Clad in his black battle armor, Ravenna strode over to do guard duty with them.