The Rebel Faction

Thuân Vĩ, Phaseera


“What a dreadful mess this place is,” muttered her protocol droid.


The droid's absolutely right. What this is really just a raid, or was it something else? A failed invasion perhaps? Line Captain Nevaere grasped the hydraulic strut of one of the Warley's ramps and leaned out. The notoriously curvy roadways of the Thuân Vĩ still had debris littered across them, most of which seemed to be crumbled duracrete chunks. Teams of slate gray droids and Phaseeran soldiers continued to clear and load the debris away onto speeder trucks to be driven away. The raid took place three days ago, and it's still this bad? Lydia's brown eyes wandered among the roofs of the buildings, noting many holes and craters littering predominantly the upper levels of the cityscape in an almost structured pattern. Her eyes narrowed. So that's it. There appears to have been a bit of dogfight, and the misses hit the buildings...A deep, mauscaline voice from the landing pad called out to her.


“Line Captain Nevaere, is it? You haven't met the Minister of Trade yet, have you?”


She tore her eyes from the damage to the city and looked with levelled eyes at the strikingly handsome man dressed in a business suit strode over to her. His mottled green eyes peered out at her atop of his high cheekbones. A wry, knowing smile quietly flitted over his face before disappearing into a more serious expression that matched his dark business suit. Great, a heartbreaker who knows he is one. She stepped off the ramp and walked over towards the man, suddenly noticing an entourage of similarly dressed people and several humanoid droids following in the man's wake. Perhaps he's the new president? Lydia offered a hand to the dark-haired man.


“Line Captain Nevaera,” stated the brunette plainly.


“Ian Pherick, Minister of Courts,” replied the man, grasping her hand, “I'm sorry I yelled out to like that before we'd properly met. I'd like to talk to you before any of the other ministers though.”


“Why's that?”


“Because they're idiots, but they don't realize it yet.”


That's a funny way to speak about one's fellow cabinet ministers. She spared a glance at the other members of his entourage. None of them seemed offended by her comment, though she suddenly noticed several bulging pockets on several of the seemingly more disinterested individuals. Bodyguards? Really? What, is he expecting an assassination attempt for visiting the star port? Or are they deadset on the Entymalian Raiders coming back for a round two? Lydia suddenly noticed that the judicial official was silently appraising her as well. She plastered a zygomatic smile across her face.


“I'm sorry, I'm not used to people travelling around with so many guards. Is that why the other ministers are idiots?”


He barked a quick laugh, “Well, no. I've made more than a few enemies prosecuting some of our worlds underworld, so to speak. But now you've already got me talking about me. No, they're idiots because they are going to attempt to buy you. Don't let them.”


She snorted, “Unfortunately, I'm not currently on the market. Are you?”


“Very funny,” deadpanned the man, “I'm serious. Now that the president is dead, there's a lot of infighting in the cabinet about who is going to take the post. Before I start the official interview with you about these raiders, and I mean this completely professionally, we should get to know each other. I know the CMF is probably none to keen on us keeping you here for the entire investigation, but...”


“I don't think we're on the same page already,” started the woman, resting a hand on her hip, “I'll tell you what I know about the Entymalians, but I'm not sticking around for an investigation. I have goods to pick up, goods to sell, and ships to get ready back for the rest of our voyage.”


“I understand that, and I will do everything in my power and influence to expedite that for you, but we really, really need your personal assistance. And this is just between the two of us, but there are some things that aren't right here. Before the president's death, I had just launched a secret investigation into him. And just as we were closing in on him, he suddenly dies, no, disappears during the attack? The timing is impeccable.”


“What were you investigating him for?”


“Tax evasion, wait, here me out on this,” stated the man, lightly grabbing the sleave of her tunic, “he was spending a lot of time travelling space recently, far more than he had beyond, and without the Presidential Guard protecting him. He was alone intentionally, and we never knew his destination.”


“Couldn't possibly be trying to get away from the stress of the job, or hell, excuse my basic, perhaps visiting a mistress?”


“He was single...”


“All the more reason to keep it quiet,” replied Lydia, “I wouldn't want to give anyone any information they could use against me, especially when your cabinet already seems so fractious. What, do you guys have a ruling coalition of sorts?”


“More or less...”


“Then who are you with,” demanded the woman, “before I get any deeper in this game.”


A frown crinkled across his face, “The Phaseeran Peace party.”


“The Phaseeran Peace party?” half-snickered the woman, “I'm sorry, I was expecting something a little more oomph to it, given your entourage here...”


“Look, I know it's probably as intimidating to you as the Pink fluffy bunny party to you,” joked the man, “but we're the fourth largest party on this world, which is something notable given the pluarity of our political system. I know you have to meet with the Minister of Trade soon, we're not entirely fractious enough to not inform each other of our schedules. The man's name is Barney McClyde, of the Prosperity Party. Look, he's actually a decent guy, that is, when his party's backers aren't pushing him to do stuff he doesn't want to, but I have to-”


“Neither the Confederation or I are getting involved in your political games.”


“Nobly said,” replied the man slowly, “but you are too late already. Can't you see the holo-cams over there taking our pictures?”


Just great...
 

Alkari Corp Light Cruiser Interceptor, in orbit via Phaseera


“What? No, that's not right at all. You really took that hook, line, and sinker too? I'll have to start taking notes from the Minister of Trade from now on...”


“About as much as you did for that the Entymalian's distraction apparently.”


Captain Illiam turned his chin downwards, as if to say: really, you went there? She felt her own irritation subside at his wounded pride. The Entymalians had managed to draw out most of the world's defenses in a diversionary attack on some passing merchant vessels; Captain Illiam had scrambled his vessels in response, only to realize that even more Entymalians had jumped in to attack his homeworld itself, but they left before his defense forces could finish their double-back to the world. He turned from the woman to face the jungle world.


“Well, for starters, to correct your errors, the Dart Project isn't really focused on the ship per se, albeit what one could maybe call the transport drone a ship,” said the man, “but really, it's not more than a hyperspace capable shell for the Darts themselves.”


“And what are the Darts then themselves?”


The man turned, “Medical response droids. Think about it, a world gets struck by the Reavers or a bomb or whatever disaster you can think of, a galactic government just launches dozens of these things from the fleet, they go in and arrive rapidly to treat them. That's the concept anyways, I can't tell you much about the droids themselves, that part is the president's pet project. Supposedly there's some pretty interesting technology involved in that part, but he's been pretty tight-lipped about that. But part of it might be the source of the technology.”


She raised an eyebrow, “And that's why he's been racing around on his personal yacht?”


“Probably,” agreed Illiam, “he's admitted to me that that's what he's doing, trying to incorporate a lot of things from different cultures into it, and having various people like himself tinker with the prototypes.”


“He's a bit of a tech geek then?”


“Absolutely,” replied the captain, “it was his job before becoming president. President Wuremu used to be a chief engineer. His vision for Phaseera would make us a mecca of the tech industry.”


“Would,” noted the woman, “he mentioned you were tracking him...”


He frowned, “How did he know that?”


“I don't know. Is it true?”


“It is,” admitted the man, “let me guess, part of the deal he brokered with you was to help us get it back.”


She nodded.


“Well that's just great...”
 

Several hours had passed since the Confederation galleons had formed upbehind the cover of the edges of a particle storm full of the blue sun's decaying solar filaments. Space seemed to shimmer around them, blocking not only the Confederate's view of the distant installation or rather that of their sensors, nor could the Entymalians see them. Most of the Phaseerans star cruisers had managed to escape the system before jumping back in to rejoined the hidden confederate formation. But several had not. One of the Interceptor's sister ships had been so crippled that it's crew had to escape on their shuttle before sending their cruiser in a suicidal ramming action against the alleged Entymalian shipyard. Another cruiser had been completely destroyed as it played out a desperate rearguard action against several of the Entymalian's medium frigates. We never should have come out here without performing a recon. But that's easier said than done when you don't have any specific reconaissance resources. But at least our reinforcements should...Tufts raised his voice above the murmur of her small bridge crew.


“Orders from the new engagement commander. All ships are being dispatched to cover these various vectors...”


As he spoke, a holograph popped on her chair's projector, displaying a three dimensional representation of the system. A series of yellow lines labelled with various ship names sprawled out from their current positions to areas around the star to form a loose web. One of the webs was labelled the Interceptor. She pursed her lips. I wonder if they've talked out the plan with Captain Illiam or they're simply assuming he's going to go along with it. Still, it looks like a solid cordon to catch anyone who tries to escape. Lydia spared a glance at the origination signal at the bottom right of the holo. Serendivius code of some sort. Unusual. But if they're cloaked, they're perfect for this operation-


A flood of voices interrupted her thoughts. She quickly switched her holo back to the tactical live feed streaming from a Confederate recon drone. Brief series of fireballs rippled across the Entymalian ships. On cue, dozens of minute laser streams briefly lit up the space around the small Entymalian transports; dozens of them were caught offguard and promptly destroyed. The line captain thought she briefly saw a S16 flicker in and out of existence. So the rumors about the phantom prowler may be some merit after all, if I can believe my own eyes. She the thoughts from her head.


“Let's get moving then, everyone to their positions.”


The Confederate and Phaseeran starships jetted away from their cover to form a loose, weaving orbit around the blue star. She noted several Serendivius frigate-sized vessels near their orbits park themselves and begin to fire their oversized cannons at the distant targets. Most of the Entymalian ships jetted away from the gravity of the sun and the withering long-range fire of the Serendivius starships. Confederation starfighters continued to harass the survivors of the long-range bombardment with salvos of proton torpedoes.


“The rescue flights are away,” stated Tufts loudly, “they're requesting any additional assistance we can provide to them...er...I mean starfighters.”


“Flight control,” replied the woman quickly, “give'em what they want. Weapons, do we have any hostile ships about to enter our interception track?”


“Ah, one,” replied a short man, “the other station that looks like a small city.”


She quickly flipper through her holo screens to pull up the target. With more accurate data from the various Confederate vessels, Lydia realized that the station was not actually a station: it was moving far too quickly to be propelled by simple manuevering thrusters that many stations possessed. It clearly had a full-sized drive hidden somewhere in it's urban exterior. It's also very large...roughly three times are size...but it doesn't seem to have any obvious weapons. Perhaps it's a converted Ithorian herd ship or something like that...the size and shape about right, aside from the towers...


“Let's take it down then,” decided the woman, watching several dozen Piranhas stream out of her ship to join the CG-10s carrying the rescue mission personnel, “and bring the fight to them.”


Her galleon swung into outer the gravity well of the sun and hurtled it down towards the escaping space city. Lydia idly tapped her fingers on the chair's armrest, watching the silver towers grow slowly in her viewport. It almost looks beautiful. As they neared the other starship, ion tags fluttered out from the Warley like a swarm of angry blue bees. As if to meet the challenge of the hybrid vessel, the city ship began to launch a swarm of larger blue blobs. She instantly recognized them.Proton torpedoes. That explains why there weren't any target locks on us earlier, as well as we couldn't see any weapons...But even as her mind mulled through reality, her mouth was speaking before she knew it.


“Helm, slow us down by fifty percent. I want more time shoot at those torps before they hit us. Flight control, better direct the drones to concentrate on those torps.”


She frowned. They might get away, but at least we'll be more intact. And that's good for business. Her galleon fired its retro thrusters, attempting to reign in the Confederate starship's speed. But the remainder of the galleon's drone complement continued forward, sputtering out emerald blaster bolts at the salvo of approaching missiles. Explosions rippled between the two opposing ships, creating a barrier of crimson gold between the two vessels. Moxell Morn, the Warley's helmsman, deftly used the star's gravity to alter the ship's path to swing out of the way of the chain reaction that engulfed several of the Piranha drones. The galleon cleared the explosion to pit itself directly in the city-ship's path. The unknown city ship continued forward, edging under the galleon's ventral surface; the towers of the vessels seemed to almost scrap the bottom of the confederation ship's hull. More torpedoes emerged from the city-ship, the point-defense cannons of the Warley ripped them apart as they left their tubes. Now we've got them... The ship suddenly vanished into nothinginess. She frowned.


“Did they jump? Or are they using some sort of stealth tech?”


Silence emanated throughout the bridge, until her sensor operator finished rechecking the scans.


“There is cronau radiation in our immediate vicinity,” informed the sensor operator, “it would appear that they have escaped into hyperspace.”


“But,” announced Tufts, “we have successfully rescued the president and the prototype.”


“And found a new enemy,” added the woman, “but hopefully we'll have some more solid friendship with the Phaseerans now.”