The Rebel Faction

Coruscant

Tilaric Brel walked quietly down the corridor, his footfalls making no more noise than was absolutely necessary. A low profile was best, in circumstances like these; low, but not too low. If he actually looked as if he was sneaking around, there would be trouble, no doubt. He ducked into one of the many offices which lined the hallway, continuing to look inconspicuous. Years of intelligence training, within the Imperial guard, within Imperial Intelligence, even within the ranks of a returned Grand Admiral Thrawn during his assault on Ossus and the rebellion, had honed his skills to an unprecidented art.

The glowing holoterminal in front of him began to cast a pale light about the dark room as Tilaric waved his hand at it, activating the archaic systems within. This terminal hadn't been used for years; its older technology would allow him to send a communique as he desired without going through typical Imperial channels.

<font size="1">//activate

//Welcome to Imperial Holoterminal #10x11x.
//Please enter your credentials.

//Name: Tilaric Brel
//Access Code: ************

--Verifying. . . . . .--
//Complete.

//recieve messages

//1 New Message. View?
//yes

--Accessing. . . . . .--</font>

The message scrolled forth across the holoprojection, text only, just as was arranged. Tilaric nodded and smiled knowingly as he read it, chuckling at one point. He allowed himself the weakness of some enjoyment of this process; with his victory so near, there was no danger of reprisal. He'd been told that life was a journey, not a destination; why not enjoy the ride? He laughed again, and entered a request to reply to the message.

<font size=1">//To: :/quasar1.holonet#12y345
//Subject: None

//Text: Xizen;

Do not worry, my friend. You will have your vengeance for the wrongs done to you, and you will, too, avenge the death of your fallen master. All is in place, just as we had planned it. The shuttle will dock on your world at 0600 tomorrow; be at Central Xizor Port.

All that is needed now is the readiness of the Black Quasar, and our plan is guaranteed success. However, I am fully confident in your ability to complete this mission. You once served the Empire; only the best serve the Empire, and despite your current low opinion of them, you know this.

Were he alive, Lord Vader would be most pleased with you.

-T</font>

Coruscant

Tilaric Brel stood alone in his quarters. He wore his Imperial Royal Guard armor, something he'd put away for months. It reminded him of a past he'd come to hate; the truth of his existence, the reality of his being. His identity as a clone. It had driven him away from the Empire once, but the past of an Imperial guard was not one easily escaped.

They'd come, swiftly and without mercy, to Fondor. They'd crushed him, crushed his forces, crushed what he'd worked so long and hard to create. He'd drifted for years after the battle of Fondor, falling eventually into the service of Grand Admiral Thrawn in his quest to destroy the New Republic and Rogue Jedi Order. He'd learned the arts of the intelligence game, battling Kasien Treseda on Hapes. He'd beaten Treseda, but Thrawn's invaison had failed.

Finally, he'd been drawn back into Imperial service. Imperial Intelligence had welcomed him back.

And now, he would betray them. No, not betray. He'd never been loyal. He would repay them. Repay them for his suffering, for his years of pain. For his very creation. They had played god, created perfect soldiers as guards. Now, he would play god. He was holding every key.

His final plan was finally coming to pass. Tilaric put on his helmet, locking it into place. Within his grasp was a single vial; the cure for the Wrath virus.

This was for the Freedom Guard.

Within minutes, he'd left the planet on his personal vessel.

Somewhere in the Imperial Sector

Tilaric Brel sat silently, staring at the damage report. It was rather impressive; and, given that his personal operations vessel, the Dreadnaught Quintessential, was several hours outside of holonet contact with the Empire, this was only the beginning. Five million on Coruscant, twelve million offworld. The effects were devastating.

He smiled still as Gerren Xizen entered the office, sitting down without speaking a word, nodding his greeting to Brel.

"Greetings, my friend." Brel said. "I bring you in here only to congratulate you, and to inform you that all goes exactly as planned."

"The Wrath virus has been effective?" Gerren asked.

"More than I ever could have hoped. You and your team have engineered the most contagious strain that any Imperial scientist has ever come across, according to this report. They'll never get a cure in time."

Gerren furrowed his brow. "You think that Wrath will wipe out everyone one Coruscant?"

"No. Where did you get the idea that I was suggesting that?"

"You said, 'In time'. In time to stop what?" Gerren got the distinct feeling that there was something he was not being told. For the first time in his dealings with Agent Brel, he felt uneasy, unsure about the character of his associate.

"In time to stop phase two of this plan."

"Phase two?"

"I'm sure I've told you all this, Gerren." Tilaric said, though his tone made it sound like this was all play-acting.

Gerren was beginning to feel quite uneasy. "No, I'm sure you haven't."

"Phase two of the plan. I will present the cure to the Empire, and implicate Imperial Command as the planters of the virus. We will be free to claim total control of the Empire; worlds will flock to us, seeking the cure, and fleets with them."

Gerren's frown deepened. "You never told me any of this. I'm sure of it. I was told that I was to manufacture a virus for the purpose of retribution on the Empire for what they did to us."

"And this is all part of that, my friend." Tilaric said, in a soothing, assuring voice. "At last, the followers of Vader will return to command of the Empire, that no such tragedy will ever occur to a world like your own again."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" The Falleen got the distinct feeling that he was being fucked with. Why had this been a secret? If this was all part of the plan for revenge, what reason had he to hide it?

"I did."

Gerren Xizen said nothing in reply. He just stared at Tilaric. After a moment of tense silence, the agent got up as if nothing had happened, smiling again. "Well, I have an address to make, my friend. You'll want to watch. This will be a great moment for all those who still follow Vader, and for all of Falleen."

A great moment for Falleen, or for you, Mr Brel?

Outpost 6512

Gash Jiren sat silently onboard the Sovereign-Class Star Destroyer aptly and derivitively named Sovereign, in orbit around the recently-captured Outpost 6512. He was steepling his hands in contemplation. The door to the office opened, and Kasien Treseda, as well as several other Republican officers -- including a Chiss operative sent directly from Xylon Hexyra -- flooded into the room.

"Have you seen this?" Treseda asked, throwing a datapad down on Gash's desk haphazardly, looking frantic. The others in the room looked dazed, too.

"Is this a report on the reactions to Brel's little speech?"

"Yes."

"Then, yes, I have." Gash looked up at the man, tilting his head, slightly. "I read it very carefully, as a matter of fact."

"It's obvious, what this is." Kasien said. "Obvious. Brel hasn't gotten over FGC -- he's just been laying low, all this time. So well, in fact, that the Empire believed him. And now he's randsoming them. And they're flocking to him -- a hundred worlds, thousands of ships. All under his command, in return for a cure."

"Do you think Brel planted the virus?" Gash asked, calmly.

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

"No," Gash assented, nodding. "No, it doesn't. This isn't a very pleasing development, is it? There's a divide, within the Empire -- a divide which places us in a morally undesirable position."

"No shit. Hyfe won't join Brel -- not a chance in hell, you and I both know that. Which means more people are going to die on Coruscant. And this will continue; for every world which sticks to the Regent, another will jump at the chance for a cure. The Empire will be split in two. Which means a civil war, and disaster, and mass suffering. Brel will tear the galaxy apart."

"I have thought of all of this, Kasien," Gash said, annoyance edging into his tone. "Do you have any solutions?"

"None."

After a few more minutes of discussion, the men left the room, thoroughly without answers. Gash continued to stare at his desk, and the holoterminal on it. He turned it on, then off. Then on, then off again. He couldn't decide.

In the end, he began typing. A text message was the only sort that they could encrypt strongly enough.

<font size="1">//activate

//Welcome. Please enter your name/password.

//Name: GashJ
//Password: **********

* Verifying . . . . . *

//Complete.
//Welcome, Sovereign-Elect Jiren. Please enter your command.

//send message.

//To: :/regentx1xxx2.holonet#145y25 [channel encrypt attached]
//Subject: Brel

//Text: Regent;

I trust you continue to know who I am. I certainly would hope you haven't forgotten, after our little spat at Etti IV. I hear your newly-installed governer is doing his job on that world well.

One year ago, I never would have written this message. But the Wrath virus has progressed too rapidly, and these new developments call for action. By now, I would assume you have heard the reactions to the speech broadcasted by your own Agent Tilaric Brel. The truth of Brel's speech is irrelevant, as is your or anyone's guilt, innocence, or complacence in this matter. I honestly do not care. However, you are losing worlds rapidly to this upstart warlord of your's; hundreds, new ones every hour.

Brel will fight you, you and I both know this. Where and when, we cannot be certain. But it will happen, and it will be devastating -- and he may win. Regardless, such a conflict would ravage whole worlds, devastate thousands. I know that you will never join him, and this, of itself, means that more will die of the Wrath virus.

I cannot, in good conscience, allow this to happen.

I did, intentionally or not, collaborate with your Grand Marshall Kaine during Thrawn's invasion of my territory. That unity of Republic and Empire succeeded. As before, I do not ask for your moral blessing, your friendship, your alleigance, or even your respect. But in the event of a war between Brel and yourself, no one stands to benefit but Brel. Each second which passes lends more power to him. I have spoken to Xylon Hexyra. He concurs.

I hear he has recently taken Bastion, or coersced it into co-operation. Perhaps we can take the fight there.

-Gash Jiren</font>

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