The Rebel Faction

Styria-class Galleon Providence, Mensyl System

Commodore Tobias stared out of the viewport at the coalescing formation. Galleons, gunships of the Irollan and Confederate variety, and Irollan freighters and shuttles swarmed around the four massive Mitore cargo ships like an ever expanding school of glitterfish. Sylia’s came out from behind Mensyl, letting its rays bath the colonization convoy in golden hues. As quickly as the sun had came, Mensyl eclipsed it again, stripping away the borrowed glory from the convoy. Tobias let out a sigh as he stopped his meditations.

“Sir?”

“Yes?” said Tobias, turning from the glass to the center of the bridge.

“The Cyredanea has entered position within the fleet.”

“I take it that’s the last ship we’re waiting for?” questioned Ingham.

“Yes sir.”

Tobias nodded. “Everyone knows the drill. Helm, take us out, and sensors and comm., make sure that we don’t end up leaving everyone behind.”

His bridge crew mumbled a series of acknowledgements and chattered among themselves as they coordinated everything, creating an abnormal din which seeped into the immediate corridors of the starship. It always was the loudest time of the trip, unless they were forced into combat. Ignoring the noise, he turned back to the viewport to observe the fleet. Ingham’s eyes immediately picked out the curved hull of the Gaellia, which had formerly posed as the Korlian, easily keeping pace with the much smaller galleons. To think that was suppose to be a pirate ship. Everyone always tries to get pleasure and power at someone else’s disadvantage. It is the foundation of every type of relationship, of every socio-based field, whether it be war, politics, and economics. But they’re always tangled together as it is…like piracy. Tobias frowned.

“Does the Prince currently have a patrol or scouting mission on Kilatear?

“Let me check…Mensyl Traffic Control reports that they have no ships there at that time.”

Commodore Tobias nodded. “Send in a mixed recon flight to quickly check out the planet. Some of their ships did get the hyperdrives, correct?”

“Several of their fighters have been just refitted with hyperdrives taken off of our fighters that were wrecked during the battle,” reported the Flight Controller.

C7 accessed its own console. “We delivered thirty-six class one hyperdrives for use by their Angtil scout ships.”

“Do we have any of those scoutships assigned to the Irollan fleet right now?” questioned Tobias.

“Um…yes sir…four of them”

“Just send them in instead,” ordered Ingham, “we’ll get to them in a week.”


Angtil-class Scoutship Sutnaix One, Kilatear space

The four scoutships reverted into realspace with muted cronau radiation flashes. Telsir glanced out of her viewport slat to see Sutnaix Two flying to her port. Behind her, the two sensor operators quietly informed her that the other two scoutships were also present. She tapped her headset comm.

“Engage stealth systems,” ordered the woman.

Around her, the white and green ships morphed into slightly discolored, but transluscent, blobs. Optical shields are working. She glanced at her sensor board. Faint sensor signatures which the computer tentatively identifies as a meteor, and the other two as concentrated solar wind…the sensor blinds and electromagnetic shields are working then. Telsir glanced up to see Kilatear flood her viewport. She shuddered. What an ugly planet. Slate gray plains with veins of black and brown covered up most of the planet, only broken up here and there by icy blue seas and oceans. Someone tapped her shoulder.

“I see asteroids directly ahead of us through the electrotelescope array.”

She stared harder, watching as some of the apparent lines which crossed the surface become whirling rings of asteroids; some larger than an Imperial Star Destroyer, some smaller than her head. Gripping her control yoke lightly, the woman gently tilted the controls so that her ship gracefully banked and turned around countless asteroids; her flying greatly aided by the Angtil’s speed and agility derived from its etheric rudders and cross-mounted ion engines. Behind her, the two sensor operators commented on the other ships’ flying. She knew that Two had mimicked her path and moves the entire way; Lysnem typically imitated other people’s success rather than forge his own path ahead. Three and Four were an almost bipolar flight pair, with Three taking slow, graceful detours around every rock as if she were giving a sight-seeing tour, while Four charged straight through the belt at nearly top speed; just narrowly missing some of the tumbling rocks. Five minutes later, the ships had broken through belts which ringed Kilatear to the upper atmosphere of the planet itself. A disembodied voice flooded the ship’s cabin.

“Excuse me Miss Telsir?”

“Yes doctor?”

“One of my ship’s specialists noticed an ideal colony area, and I would like her to drop my crew there for a survey.”

She glanced at her viewport at the shady planet, bereft of most of the sun’s brightest rays.

“May I ask what makes this location so ideal?”

“Abnormal amounts of thermal radiation. From the ship’s scopes, it appears that it would be easy to utilize the thermal power from the planet’s core there for electricity and passive heating.”

She nodded. “All right, take your ship down there, but also take Lysnem’s craft with you.”

“Of course, always operating in pairs,” agreed the scientist.

Two of the starships fell from the formation and dove into the atmosphere. Sutnaix One and Four continued to orbit the planet, taking detailed sensor readings with their electrotelescopes to make the first comprehensive map of Kilatear. It would be a long week.


Sutnaix Two, Kilatear

Always easier said than done. The Confederates truly have the most interesting sayings. But it is true in this case, I believe. Lysnem rocked the yoke of his scout ship to the left; forcing his ship to make a tight turn around a rumbling thunderstorm. Behind his craft, Sutnaix Three slowly descended via a spiral, supposedly to allow the ship’s sensor operators to get a lot of good pictures of the landing zone and proposed settlement area. He flicked several switches which flipped the canard wings up, which along with the repulsorlifts kicking in, slowed the descent of their craft. It seemed that the Doctor’s proposed colony site was once a volcanic peak that was now riddled through by tunnels, and now cut off from other land by an extensive lake. One of his cabin mates grumbled.

“These Confederate sensors say that there are lifeforms on the islands…”

“Well,” said the other sensor operator calmly, “our Mensyl sensors say that there is a Type I atmosphere suitable for our own life. It is quite possible that something else is already living there.”

A voice on the other ship flooded through their headset.

“Sutnaix Two, our sensors show that there is life on the island. Do your scopes have anything?” questioned the Doctor.

“We too detect apparent lifeforms,” replied one of the sensor operators, “they seem to be located in the tunnels which dot the island.”

Gazing out of the slat which was his viewport, Lysnem.studied the rapidly approaching terrain. His emerald eyes crossed over crevices, gashes, caves, and rough slopes. But wherever he looked, the Irollan could not see a suitable landing space. He tapped his comm.

“Three, do you see any landing spots?”

The other pilot hesitated.

“I do not see anything,” squeaked the woman.

“I am going to make us a landing spot then,” replied Lysnem, activating the ship’s general purpose launchers.

He tapped a button, releasing a single missile out of the translucent blob and to the surface below. The Confederate-made concussion missile soared into the mouth of a tunnel and exploded; collapsing a small cave on top of itself. The volcanic earth heaved and rumbled as it transformed into a relatively flat, but jagged, plain. Lysnem pulled out the ship’s landing gear as his craft descended. A gentle thud reverberated throughout Sutnaix Two, announcing that it had made landfall. Lysnem casually flicked the recessed switches and tapped the buttons which sprouted off his panel; turning every system on the ship off, aside from the hydraulics which raised and lowered the ship’s ramp. By the time Lysnem unbuckled himself from his chair, his passengers had already piled out of the seats of his craft. He strode down the ramp with his two sensor operators.

“Pretty,” sarcastically said Lysnem, viewing the desolate mountainside, “maybe we can build a resort here.”

“The waters are a bit brackish,” countered the Doctor, “otherwise, this could well become that. Think of the possible splendors which the caves could hold; of the stagmites and cave formations; the polished minerals.”

“Those caves are occupied right now,” reminded an Irollan scout trooper, “with something. We will need to take a look at it before we do anything.”

Dhothil-class Starfighter Aelanis Leader, escorting RMS Lydar

“Lydar, continue on your course.”

“But Knight Commander, you are vastly outnumbered. Those aliens possess stealth fighters which cannot appear on our sensor screens.”

“Stay on course,” coolly answered Ithlin, “and I will take over the talking. Zaria, connect me through directly to the rebel leaders.”

“Yes Lady.”

“Galleon Providence,” stated Ithlin, “We will withdraw immediately from your territory if you take these pirates into custody. The Kingdom cannot tolerate criminals, nor would I expect the survivors of their attempted genocide to take them lightly.”

The galleon ceased firing. A slight smile crawled across her face. I have them now. Court life does have its advantages on the battlefield. Her comlink crackled.

“We accept. The pirates will be taken into custody and put on trial by a military tribunal, as per Confederation Law.”

Ithlin paused. Damn them. That’s not what they’re suppose to say, or do. They are criminals, even if they didn’t attack Mensyl. Why wouldn’t you kill a felon armed with weapons of mass destruction, much less an entire group of them? But if I push this any further, I risk damage to the Kingdom, both political and physical. We must disengage.

“Zaria, put me on an open channel.”

“Yes Lady.”

“This is Knight Commander Ithlin, all royalist forces disengage. Head back to base immediately. All starfighters begin docking with Lydar as per procedure. Ithlin out.”

She glanced at her siege beam cannon status, showing that it was fully charged. And I almost got to use you in battle for the first time. That’s a pity. But I’ll have better luck next time.


Styria-class Galleon Providence, in orbit via Kilatear

“You realize that your official trial started thirty standard minutes ago,” said the human.

“He said that your trial started a quarter of the sun ago,” interpreted the Mensyl officer.

Riardon just shrugged and glanced around.

"How dothese beings call this home, I will never know…it is just so…dead and dreary"

The Mensyl officer ignored him. Riardon had been thoroughly disappointed on not seeing a single plant onboard since his entry onto the ship three hours ago. The Confederate marines searching his two star clippers, alternatively, wondered how anyone fought a war from a space-going farm. The pirate shrugged. Commodore Tobias leaned back in his chair, half asleep.

“You’re innocent, of course, of the charges the Kingdom has leveled against you….”

“You are innocent…”

“…because we both know that the Kingdom was instigator behind those attacks…”

“…because the royals did it…”

“…But I have to deal with you somehow, so I granting you a conditional pardon…”

“…he is giving you a temporary unpunishment for your crimes…”

“…along with consenting members of your crew…”

“…and for your warband…”

“…if you accept the position as Kilatear’s new defense commander…”

“…if you will become war chief for Kilatear…”

“…and recruit your forces to our side…”

“…and bring your forces with you…”

“…What say you?”

“…what do you think?”

Riardon just shook his head. “Yes. Must I always talk to this alien guy too?”

“…he says yes, and implies that he doesn’t like talking to you…he thinks that you sound like a wheezing turkey past its expiration date.”

Tobias shook his head,”You can fill him in on the rest of the details and talk things through with him. I’m going to my quarters to have dinner with my wife.”

“Very good Commodore.”

Tobias coolly smiled and left the room. I don't trust these guys, but Prince Amaril wants it, and it is his world. Perhaps I would be different too, maybe even the entire Confederation, if we all had the luxury to not be always so close to open war. But then again, because of that, maybe the conditional pardons will work in their society. It'll certainly irritate the Royalists at least, and if the Kingdom does opt to attack, the Nimlas Group will be the ones to take the initial brunt rather than Mensyl itself or our forces. A pair of hulking Paladin II Assault droids marched towards him, with a single humanoid set between them: Lady Dresha Alean. His jaw slackened, but he quickly clamped it shut, prominently displaying his jawline.

Lady Alean led the Prince's pious colonists who wished to escape their homeworld, yet remain free of the more corrupt Irollan kingdom. Commodore Tobias both felt drawn to the lithe creature, and repulsed by her. Locks of near golden hair flowed off her head like waterfalls, and her deep blue eyes seemed to always drown his own muddy eyes when their eyes met. While her beauty alone could have attracted him to her, her personality did not endear her to him. Coolly polite, Lady Alean was about as warm and approachable as a titantic icy bound asteroid hurtling towards his beloved Providence. Commodore Tobias mimicked the cool smile that Lady Alean always gave him as a greeting.

“Lady Alean.”

“Commodore Tobias,” replied the Irollan, “I wish to know how the conversation went with the Nimlas leader.”

“He has agreed to the conditional pardon. I assume you approved?”

“It was my idea,” announced the woman, “and I am glad Prince Amaril agreed to it. Not only may be we be able to bring these poor souls to enlightenment, but it may well reward us with some more protection. I trust we will be landing shortly?”

Tobias shook his head, “Not yet. There is some surface activity that needs to be resolved.”


Site of Vernis, Kilatear

“What is it?”

The carapace of the unknown insectiod lay partially crushed among the boulders and debris derived from the cave-in. It had taken a squad of Paladin's three hours of work to simply find remove enough boulders to find it, but already there signs that more of the creatures had existed. De Vries rubbed his chins. I'll be willing to bet that Lady Alean is not going to like hearing this, between the deaths of these...things, and the fact that the creatures may have an impact on her planned settlement. Let's hope she doesn't get too teary eyed, and let's hope that the creatures aren't actually intelligent. Frowning, the lankly CMF employee ripped out his comlink, and tapped the call button.

“Commodore Tobias?”

“What's the news, De Vries?”

He hesitated, “Are you alone?”

“I can be. Lady Aleans, if you will excuse me. I'll call you right back De Vries; I'm just going to get to my cabin.”

A slight buzz whined from the little cylinder before the call cut out. De Vries looked around the scene. Many of the Blackwell's Paladins continued to haul out boulders and the other debris from the network of caves on the island. Where are we going to put all that? De Vries paced the area, inspecting the various debris piles, noticing a couple of crystals smashed into tiny shards among the piles of igneous rocks. I wonder if those crystals have any practical value, or it's just some variety of quartz...His comlink buzzed. He tapped a button.

“De Vries?”

“Yes sir?”

“I'm in my cabin. Now what is it you wanted to tell me?”

“Sir, the caverns here are already inhabited by some sort of insectiod creatures larger than most men. They do not appear to be intelligent, at least not on the level of using tools and such, but I doubt Lady Alean with be happy with it.”

“So we don't put her and her followers there,” decided the Commodore, “we'll put the defense outpost there. The pardoned pirates can have it, they're at least a little bit use to some violence, and it looks like a fair defensible portion of land. Turn the caves into bunkers, you know, that sort of thing.”

De Vries nodded, “So where are we putting Lady Alean then?”

“I think I've found a good spot, or rather, a couple of alternatives. We'll just let her pick the one.”

Four weeks later...

Styria-class Galleon Providence, in orbit via Kilatear

“Beautiful, isn't it?”

Commodore Tobias stared through the holo-projector at the new settlement of Raefel. Prince Amaril did seem to enjoy exploring the cluster of homesteads Lady Alean had erected near the equator of the world. While slightly on the cool side for an Irollan, the area was still habitable enough that many of the plants native to Mensyl had been successfully transplanted in the center of the town as a sort of monumental garden that dwarfed the Irollan pre-fabricated structures that the inhabitants planned to start in. Tobias had to admit, the settlement did have a certain quaint charm to which he was not entirely predisposed towards. It's still a little too vulnerable, but if the sector does become peaceful again...well, can I hardly blame her? Irollan space has been more peaceful than not, up to now. Tobias turned his eyes to the other settlement of Vernis. A Confederate-built Protector-class Flak Tower now dominated the summit of the now dormant volcano. Clusters of boxy Confederate-built pre-fabricated structures dotted the rest of the mountain, frequently connecting to the cave system. It was an impressive fortress for this area of space, despite the fact that it was not entirely completed yet.

“Let's hope it stays that beautiful,” mumbled Tobias, “the kingdom seemed a little too aggressive in pushing their thoughts on us.”

“Indeed,” agreed Amaril, “they were a little pushy. I think we will be hearing from them sooner than we would like.”


RMS Lydar, Deep Space

Knight Commander Ithilin walked around her Dthohil starfighter, her nearly lily white hands dragging across the fuselage. We've been through much, but we'll go through more soon. The scents of the star clipper's potent Laefaera flowers drifted down from the hangar's trellessis to smother out what little oil and grease the facility produced. She glanced up at the purple flowers and shuddered. How could one not want some sort biological means to produce oxygen? It's fresh and sweet-smelling...unlike that alien ship she was on a week ago. The Royalist shuddered. It had been an impressively large ship by Irollan standards, even larger than the gargantuan Mitore bulk cargo ships. Its captain, a being named Aspholme, described it as a heavy cruiser, but she had no idea what they called it thus. But that ship, as sterile as it was, did not create the tension she was feeling onboard that ship, or now. He is here: Sarcev Quest. She turned around.

A human did stand there. Nearly two meters tall, the fallen Jedi could barely slip through the relatively tiny hatch into her craft's personal hangar. His near black eyes set on chalky white skin, combined with black and gray scale armor seemed to drain the life out of the room. Her hand slid down to rest on her sonic stunner.

“They were not trapped into our scheme,” she said slowly.

“Not yet,” admitted the man, leaning against the doorway, “but they will be.”

“And how do you plan on that?” questioned the Irollan, “it's difficult enough plodding our own people towards a war, much less another people's. Prince Amaril is rather restrained too, even for an Irollan. I'm surprised you weren't able to lure the other humans into attacking us.”

“They would have,” replied the man, “if Prince Amaril hadn't restrained them. I felt it. But it is of no matter, Knight commander. I have a plan will start the war we need. But I need you to do something for me. I do not think you will entirely like it.”

“What is it?” questioned the woman, “it had better not be to work with Captain Aspholme on his ship.”

“No,” replied the man, “it is not. Do you remember when you and the Corellon first met my people and I?”

“I do.”

“Then you know what I intend to reveal to them.”

She frowned, “I don't like it. But that may work, if you can find someone they can trust to reveal it for them. They won't trust me.”

“Not directly,” admitted the fallen Jedi, “but there are some officials who still listen to honorable Knight Commanders such as yourself...”