The Rebel Faction

The previous day…

Atlas Hall, Brandenburg, Genon

The Bothan stalked up and down the U-shaped table, attempting to read each councilor as he passed under the guise of his presentation. His words cut through the subeteranean air and inspired visions of fire and angst, of tyranny and fear. He was a truly eloquent spokesperson, and combined with his Bothan heritage, left little wonder as to how he had managed to rise through the company ranks to achieve the position of CEO. Yet the councilors seemed less than interested in his presentation, less believing as he would have liked.

“…and so you can see, Ribogga the Hutt is attempting nothing less than grand piracy and extortion,” announced Jha’frey.

Silence greeted the creature’s declaration. A single man shifted in his chair, drawing the Bothan’s attention.

“The case is not so simple as you make it out to be,” replied Harding, “Ribogga is not a simple pirate or extortioneer; he’s been a major lender to your company in the recent times. And from what I know, you’ve paid back the principle, but not the interest.”

The Bothan’s fur rippled. “He changed the interest to an exorbitant amount by the time I had already paid over half of the principle. He expected me to fail so that he could absorb the company that my clan has led for seven hundred years. I was not going to give into his demand so that he would think that he could raise the interest even more. He’s a criminal, you all know that.”

“So you refused to make any interest payments at all from the start,” mused Thorn, “because he hinted that he would raise the interest even before you made the first principle payment.”

The Bothan’s fur rippled again. “Has your Confederation been spying on me?”

“Yes and no,” replied Director Howe, “we were spying on Ribogga the Hutt at first, simply because it makes sense to keep track of large criminal syndicates right outside our space, and then we heard through our spies about Regalum III and the issues he’d been having with you. He’s hired one pompously named Grand Admiral to deal with you.”


Jha’frey leaned back. “And she’s failed so far.”

Howe snorted. “You were nearly assassinated by people wearing your corporation’s uniforms…”

The Bothan’s fur rippled. “I survived, and they did not. I have my own friends. Sometimes I don’t even know them.”

“Indeed you don’t,” commented Howe, “because those that saved you were CSIS operatives trying to eliminate a pirate leader. You live today because of us.”

The CEO scoffed. “I live because we had mutual interest in these criminal’s demise. And now knowing that they were your men, I know that you arranged for my safe travel through the blockade and an audience with the Council. That certainly would be hard thing to obtain in the troubled times like this. So my question is why are you even talking to me? You need me for something.”

“We have mutual interests,” echoed Harding, “beside our dislike of Ribogga and his cronies, you have something of value to us. Regalum III is one of the largest aquaculture worlds in the mid rim. You grow aquatic plants and animals of all sorts in tanks, and then your company harvests them.”

“You want my corporation’s product then?” questioned the Bothan, “you went through all of this trouble to tell me that? A simple holo-net order could have sufficed, along with a solution of getting it through the blockade.”

“We share more interests than merely that,” coaxed Thorn, “Not that having a mutual enemy is not a good starting ground. Your corporation, and by extention, its world, espouses similar values to our own-”

The Bothan nodded. “You really need my food for some reason.”

“You really need our military for some reason,” countered Howe, “we are suffering a food shortage on a few of our worlds because of the Reever crisis. So yes, that is part of it. But if that was merely the case, like you’ve said, we would have bought or bargained for it, like we do with many other outside interests. But Regalum III is special. Do you know why?”

The Bothan shrugged. “You must really like fish.”

“It’s a potential food source that’s about to disappear into the hands of our enemy,” explained Howe, “and if there is anything I hate more than wasting food, it’s letting the enemy eat food that fill the stomachs of our own.”

“You want an exclusive contract then,” considered the Bothan, “and you are willing to provide at least protection for it during its travel to the Confederation. Once the food crisis is over though, whenever the supply lines are restored or some other source of food enters your way, you’ll drop the contract then, essentially leaving me to deal with the problem of Ribogga then.”

“That is one course of action,” agreed Pro-Consul Thorn, “and would certainly be the most convenient one if we were looking for a quick fix. However, we would prefer long-term stability for ourselves and our trading partners. We would like to extend to you an offer of full membership into the Confederation. We would have our food, and your corporation would have a permanent military force to guard and protect it, and you, as the planetary leader. That is, however, assuming that you do not become some megalomaniac.”

The Bothan’s fur rippled. “I could just hire some mercenaries and charge your Confederation exorbitant prices…”

“You could,” acknowledged Harding, “but again, it would be a short-term fix. And how can you trust mercenaries and vice-versa after your dealings with Ribogga? Ribogga has a bounty on your head. Do you really think that they would be a safe option? We are your best bet.”

Jha’frey muttered. “Unfortunately, perhaps. I suppose it could be worse, this could be coming from the Empire.”

“You are loathe to give up your independence,” surmised Thorn, “is that it?”

“I’ve seen how your Confederation works,” replied the Bothan, “and there is more freedom in it than in most governments, yet it is not the total freedom to which I have been used too. But it is certainly better than death or ruin. I accept your offer, but before it can be made official, it must be passed through the board. I doubt there will be any problems since my family owns the corporation, but at the very least, formalities must be kept. And the board would like to see some gesture that demonstrates the veracity of the proposed plan.”

Harding nodded. “You would need a secure transport back as well, as that CSIS group that brought you in has already left the space port. To both ends, I have directed High Command to form a small group of warships to begin hunting the pirates in the area and to break the blockade. One of the ships is a star destroyer fresh out of its battle with the Entymals from Taicho. It is a good ship with experienced crew, and I believe the pirates or Ribogga will have anything that can remotely counter it…”

Four hours later…

“Well, that looked like the best family union I’ve ever seen. So why did you choose to talk to him instead of trying to instantly blast him out of space?” asked Lira, “I mean, I know you’ve never been much of a family guy…”

“I thought I could maybe intimidate him into surrender,” explained Jim, “The Coromant means everything to him, and moreover, we can’t really catch it. It’s too quick of a ship for either the Foudroyant or the Stormfire, and the corvettes don’t really have the firepower to take it down without heavy casualties…”

“And so your father used the talking as a distraction to withdraw his fleet from danger,” considered Agders, “he’s a crafty guy; quick on his feet; you have to give him that. It won’t be easy to take him down.”

“Is crafty the same as lying?” asked Tresk, raising an olive hand, “he mentioned that they were loan-defaulters….”

“It can be, but I know nothing about this,” replied Captain Aspholmes, “but if the Confederation didn’t mention it in the briefing, it’s probably not true. My father was always pretty good at putting a spin on things. I’d bet Regalum III isn’t making an extortion payment that the Hutt want, so hence the blockade. That or my father was lied too. But it doesn’t really matter. Jha’frey is down on Queensland right now, talking to the board. He doesn’t anticipate any problems passing the membership through the board, meaning that for all intents and purposes, Regalum III is practically a member state under blockade from criminal forces. So irregardless if they’re loan-defaulters or what not, we have to act.”

“The only real choice is to break the blockade,” declared Lira, “and we have done that. Freighters are moving back and forth between Queensland and deep space.”

“But only for Queensland,” emphasized Tresk, “the blockade only partially is lifted. We must meet the enemy on the field and utterly decimate them. I myself would like to face this enemy in a boarding action.”

Jim grinned. “You want a close-quarters fight with my father?”

“He is a dishonorable man,” defended the alien, “he should be dueled to the death by an officer.”

“Well, that can’t happen yet,” added Commander Agders, “we’ve got to force them into a combat, and based on the recording of that last father-son conversation, he isn’t inclined to fight us on an open battlefield.”

“As opposed to a closed battlefield?” considered Lira, “would there be some way to make it so that it could be settled in a duel, or heck, even pay them off?”

“Not really,” replied Jim, “my father isn’t the dueling type, and even if he were, he’d think any face-to-face meeting would be a trap, or he’d use it as such. And money, well, where are we going to get enough money to pay off an entire fleet of mercenaries? Heck, what would happen if every pirate heard that the Confederation paid off its attackers? We’d have criminal fleets running at us from everywhere; heck, even other legitimate governments would come after us just for the money. No, we have to take them down somehow.”

“The clear way is to counter the enemy’s advantage,” advised Agders, “which is his speed and dispersion. And we can do that?”

“How?”

“Well, if the main ships loose their propulsion systems, we can move in and blow them up at our leisure. And if the main ships are gone, and so is their leadership, the smaller ships are going to flee or at the very least, suffer from disorganization and poor morale.”

“And just how do you plan to remove the Coromant’s engines?” questioned Aspholme.

La Galissonière-class Star Destroyer Foudroyant, Regalus System

“No word on the Coromant,” reported Tresk, “We are certain that both the sublight drives and the main hyperdrive were destroyed in the attack run.”

Aspholme sighed. “He must have recently installed a new back-up hyperdrive then. Still, the Coromant cannot go too many places without any sublight drives. Heck, the reserve hyperdrive can probably only take the Coromant on a couple of jumps. He might have escaped us now, but we’ll get him. But I suppose the main thing is that the blockade is broken. How have mop-up operations been like?”

“Easy,” reported Lira, “I think the Stormfire’s stealth bombers have pretty much terrified any opposition we could possibly have. No-one wants to sit around to get blown up to tiny bits without a speck of warning. It’s very unprofitable I hear.”

“You hear?” questioned Tresk.

“She’s using what’s called sarcasm,” explained Jim, “it’s sort of like my bad jokes…”

The alien’s face wrinkled. “I do not understand you people at times. But I do not care.”

“Uh…thanks?” replied Lira.

“You don’t understand us? We don’t understand you,” said Jim, “mutual ununderstanding. I like that.”

“Captain,” called out a crewman, “the last of the food freighters has taken up position within the convoy formation. We are ready to jump.”

“Well then, we jump back to Brandenburg…you may begin the jump countdown, lieutenant.”


Bulk Cruiser Coromant, Deep space

The two men stood staring at the holographic projection of a Hutt. One stood silent, dwelling in the shadows of the quarters like a wraith; out of sight from the alien. The other one animatedly debated with alien, going so far as to point his blaster at the Hutt at times.

“The blockade is shattered, and the planet is free,” stated the elder Aspholme, “I barely escaped with my ship. And it is not a remotely intact ship. With the repairs I’ll need, the Coromant will be a drydock for a couple of months. I expect you to help pay for these as per our agreement.”

The Hutt laughed. “You failed your end of the agreement.”

“I did not,” countered the Captain, “I was only contracted to blockade the planet for three months, not the four it ended up being. You got an extra month out of my crew and my ship.”

“Yes Aspholme,” admitted the Hutt, “I did. But our agreement says that I would only have to pay for damages rendered to your ship during those three months. Clearly, two days ago was not part of this three month stint. You are on your own.”

“Bastard,” swore the captain, “I was doing this for your benefit. You wanted it.”

“And do you always do what others want?” questioned the Hutt, “surely you can’t do that for everyone. People have conflicting views. And I can’t pay for those repairs, because I do not have the money since Jha’frey refused to pay interest.”

“He repaid the principle back…”

“But that wasn’t my money,” replied the alien, “it was another beings. I borrowed money to lend to Jha’frey, so I essentially made no profit at all. I took a loss instead because of the incompetence of your people. And you think I going to pay for your failure? To heal yourselves from your failure? Your failure and its consequences are your own. Goodbye, Captain.”

The holo-projector viseage faded, and the elder Aspholme swore. “When it comes to money, it seems I can never trust anyone. Not my partners, not my employers, heck, not even my own kid. And now he somehow has a bigger ship than I do.”

“But it is not his,” replied Sarcev, “nor does it really matter. We have a bigger ship for you, a bigger job, and even perhaps a chance for revenge. I suggest you take it.”

The aging man turned a stare back at the fallen Jedi. “Why wouldn’t I? I have nothing to lose now, do I?”