The Rebel Faction

Juaire Mk II-class Corvette Arconit, in orbit via Felucia

“No, they’re not here yet…” mumbled Verrack, the Mon Calamari communication’s officer, nearly knocking his head on the communication’s console.

Holly Trutzig suppressed a smile and turned away from his station to let it fully blossom.  The Gossam are beginning to get to him, I’d never thought it would happen when they first started talking.  But it’s been a week, perhaps the charm of their accent has finally worn off.  Or perhaps it’s the demanding nature of General Miin.  Since Felucia’s induction into the Confederation, the corvette had remained in orbit around the world, protecting the world while waiting for the other promised Confederate warships to arrive.  Yet things had not gone entirely to plan. The pursuit line that Admiral Lucerne had promised had been diverted to reinforce a fleet blocking a probing thrust by Reaver forces in the Meridian Sector.  Several of the Gossam, however, had been counting on the Confederate forces arriving just on time, including Miin’s nephew, who had promptly cashed in on his connections to pressure her to escort several of his ships on a business venture, ostensibly for protection from both the Reavers and the Neo Death Watch.  Both he and his uncle had continued to call their vessel, constantly demanding updates.  It had almost become routine for her to listen to the increasingly irate native of Dac to begrudgingly receive their calls and inform them that nothing had changed.  But this time, Verrack turned his bulbous eyes to face his commander.

“General Miin wishes to speak with you, in a private place.”

Holly rolled her gray-green eyes, “You can tell him I’m not heading down there.  I have to be on my ship.”

Verrack swiveled back on his chair to face his console and the Gossam leader.  The two exchanged a few words, with Verrack almost reaching the boiling point.  She thought that she might even be able to hear the Gossam complaining through the Mon Calamari’s headset.  The comm’s officer turned back to face her, his mouth drooping a little more than usual.

“Commander, would you please hear him out in your own quarters?  He promises to stop calling us if you’ll speak to him…”

She hesitated and rose from her seat, “I guess, but just this one time.”

I can’t wait to get away from them.  She strolled out of the bridge and reached her quarters in less than five minutes; the Arconit wasn’t exactly a large ship.  The Audacian woman snapped the doors shut behind her and turned on her quarter’s smaller holo-projector.  A hazy image of a squat saurian alien wearing a highly decorated military uniform appeared.  He eyed the woman warily.  She cleared her throat.

“General Miin.”

“Captain.”

“What can I do for you General?” questioned the woman, “I assume there’s a good reason for you not wanting my own bridge crew to know about it…”

The general hesitated, “I would ask you to take your ship to escort my nephew and his business partners to a nearby system.  It will not take you long, and it will greatly comfort both myself and them.  Especially since it will be a business that benefits our country, and by extension the Confederation.  I admit to disliking to ask favors of people like this, but I ensure you that it will be returned if ever I could do anything for you.”

“What is your nephew’s business?”

“Import and export,” quickly snapped the Gossam leader.

“More specifically?”

“Droids, in this case.”

“Droids is also a little vague here,” mused the woman, “are we talking about janitor droids or stolen military battle droids?”

“Production,” said the Gossam, “but you will not be taking any droids.  They will be building them on Vornax, it’s less than a day’s travel from here.”

“So it’s a simple escort mission is what you’re saying.”

Miin nodded silently.

“And he has no business acquaintances or rivals that would want him dead?” prodded the Audacian.

“Not that we know of.”

“So you’re saying that it should be a walk in the park, so to speak,” said Captain Trutzig.

Miin cocked his head to the side, “I don’t know what that means.  He does need to travel through space.”

“My mistake,” offered Trutzig, “that was an idiom.  I was asking if it should be easy.”

“Yes, it should be.”

She nodded, “Very well, if you feel that you are capable of defending your world while we are gone, I will do it.”


“Thank you Captain, it means a lot to me.”
 

Several tense minutes passed before single explosions appeared across the hulls of the oncoming dungeon ships before just as quickly fading into obscurity; one of the dungeon ships began to turn hard to its port in the aftermath.  She curiously noted that they all appeared at the stern of the vessels.  Trutzig let a wry grin crease her face as she turned to Ensign Netbers, a barrel-chested man who often wore a contemptuous sneer.

“You targeted their engines, Netbers?”

The man swiveled around on his seat with a proud smile, “And they all hit.  Hopefully it’ll slow them down a bit…”

“Good thinking,” approved Trutzig, “maybe enough that we won’t actually have to fight them.”

“Ma’am,” interrupted her sensor’s officer, a wispy woman from Metalorn, “I’ve got a lot of small signals headed out from those ships now…they’re about missile sized, but they’re not missiles.  Their heat and FST signatures aren’t quite right to be normal warheads…”

“Boarders,” guessed Holly, catching several blurry images of the objects as she flipped through several sensor screens on her own console.

If the Mandalorians were not famed for their battle prowess, then it was for their characteristic space-going armor.  In times of yore, they had rode beast-like droids deep in the hard vacuum of space.  But the advent of the mass deployment of battle droids and starfighters had almost completely stopped that the use of that gutsy tactic.  Unfortunately for Trutzig, she had no starfighters at her disposal, and far fewer battle droids than there were Mandalorian warriors, allowing its return on the battle field today.  Her only relief was in the vast number of quad laser cannons dotting her starship’s hull, which could likely cut down many, but not all of them before they reached her ship.  She wrinkled her face.

“Netbers, better get prepping your weapons crew with coordinated fields of fire to repel our Mandalorian friends…Nav, how long before we can jump?”

“Ah, seven minutes.”

“Sensors, when will the Mandalorians be here roughly?”

“I’d guess about five,” said the other woman.

“Two minutes to hold them off…well…that’s doable…”

But that remark didn’t calm her stomach any more than it did her crew’s minds.  Her eyes flitted about the various screens on the bridge.  Everything seemed to paradoxically move too fast and too slow at the same time.  Holly guessed that she was beginning to hyperventilate.  Forcing herself to close her eyes, she tried to concentrate on her breathing, for the first time suddenly realizing how quiet the bridge really was. Am I the only one panicking?  She quickly dismissed the thought. Then again, the only real thing that we can do is wait…Exhaling, she immediately opened her eyes to focus on the tactical map.  Even glancing out of the viewport, she could already see that the Acronit’s guns were alive, strending streams of emerald bolts in fire patterns coordinated by Ensign Netbers.  I wonder what sends men to fly through the cold vacuum of space in nothing more than an armored flight suit to attack a ship like ours?  It’s either guts, or insanity…Suddenly, a small group of Mandalorian soldiers flitted just in front of the bridge viewport before circling back around to their port side.  They’re only meters away from us…She immediately flicked a switch on her headset comlink.

“Attention crew of the Arconit, this is your captain speaking.  Mandalorians have been spotted on our hull.  All hands prepare to be boarded, best make sure you have your sidearms handy-”

As if to further stress her message, a whine pierced the air behind her.  She swiveled around in her chair to see bright sparks coming out of an access panel for the bridge’s escape pods.  Her stomach contorted more.  They’re already getting through to us…The bridge crew immediately began to abandon their stations and draw their own weapons and crouch behind whatever cover they could find.  Sergeant Bogen, the lean master of arms for the Arconit, rushed through the bridge foyer doors with another soldier and a pair of C1s in tow.  She watched as the soldiers and their droids quickly took up daringly close positions just on either side of the access hatch as the sparks came to a stop.  No sooner had they done so when the Mandalorian behind the hatch smashed it down and started shooting randomly into the bridge.  A storm of blaster bolts ensued between the defenders and boarders, but not before she heard the clatter of metal bouncing on the deck.  Instinctively, she crouched behind the console behind her, just before the grenade went off.  It was deafeningly loud.  The general’s daughter felt a wave of concussive force pass through her shielding console and rattle her body.  Her ears still ringing, she clutched her pistol tightly  and popped her head up over the console for a quick look through the dense smoke.

She guessed that Bogen was dead, judging by his collapsed body by the access panel.  But there was a small comfort that the Mandalorian that he had grasped in his final moments lay dead beside him; their limbs interlocked to the end.  To her left, she noticed Netber’s body lay strewn across his console, blood still oozing out to drizzle down to from glossy puddles on the metal deck.  The pair of C1s, unaffected by the shockwave, put down the last Mandalorian in a hail of blaster fire.  As the man crumpled onto the deck floor, one of the battle droids began to unemotionally advance through the now open maintenance shaft while the other stood guard on the bridge.  We’re almost safe, but not yet…She stood up, noting that most of her other bridge crewmembers seemed out of it.  She made her way to the helmsman’s station, where the slightly overweight helmsman moaned and complained about his head.

“You’re going to be all right Etison,” comforted Trutzig with a touch of her hand, before gently pushing him away from his station.

Holly glanced out of the bridge viewport to see that Miin’s ships had vanished.  Gritting her teeth, she slapped a button on his console.  Well, what’s done is done… The Arconit jumped deep into the tunnels of hyperspace and away from the ambush.
 

Another three hours passed until the Acronit led Miin’s motley array of vessels into orbit around the desert world.  Trutzig finally acquiesced to Miin’s request, sending over a quartet of rocket-pack equipped C1 battle droids to inspect the alien’s starship to ensure there were no longer any threats on the Hauler.  She hadn’t even noticed their return , conducting a brief funeral service for the fallen, both her own and the Mandalorians, and visiting the wounded in the sick bay during the whole clearing operation.  Exhausted, the Audacian woman relieved herself of duty to collapse in her bunk.  Still in her sweat-stained uniform complete with its holstered blaster pistol, Trutzig fell asleep.  She never knew until that day one could sleep so deeply with such unsettling dreams.  A voice called to her.  She awoke and half-rose out of her bunk.

“I’m sorry, who and what?”

“It’s just me Captain, Ensign Chun…”

She briefly tried to put a name on face, before she recognized him as a short man with a youthful face.  That ensign.  Scuttlebutt says that he thinks he might be a force-sensitive, though no-one has any proof, but he’s a good enough sailor...She cleared her throat.

“What is it Chun?”

“I’m subbing in for Lieutenant Verrack right now and…well…”

“And?”

“It’s ah, Mister Miin ma’am.  He says that he wants to leave and get back to Felucia.”

“Already?  How long was I asleep?”

“Ah, I don’t know, maybe seven hours?  Anyways ma’am, Mister Miin says that he doesn’t think things are going to work out down there.  From what I’ve gathered, he thinks that several of his associates have brought in some other partners into the venture that he quote unquote thinks are ‘sketchy’.  He wants to leave as soon as possible.”

She felt a vigorous warmth rise up within her that rose to flush her cheeks crimson, “Tell Mister Miin that I will talk with him shortly, in person.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The woman got off her bunk, stripped off her tunic, and put a fresh one before stopping at her mini-bathroom to freshen herself up.  Now somewhat presentable, she stormed out of her quarters to the bridge, where she promptly relieved Chun of his station.  Holly leaned forward to the holo-projection of the placid-looking gossam businessman.

“Mister Chun here was telling me that you do not feel secure in your business dealings on-world.”

The gossam nodded, “That is correct.  I believe it in is our best interest to leave immediately.”

“Why?”

“There’s no point in squandering resources in such a risky venture…”

“Because it’s financially risky?”

“Correct.”

“You may want to reconsider,” interrupted Trutzig irrately, “because I didn’t put my ship and crew through this ordeal just for you to walk out of a business deal without you giving it a real shot.  I also won’t be leaving until my ship is fully repaired, and possibly resupplied, and depending on what message my courier drone brings back, we will not likely leave for another week.  But I won’t tell you what to do.  You can take your ships yourself back to Felucia, but in won’t be in the Arconit’s company.  But I wish you the best of luck going it alone if you do decide to go that route.  I am sure your uncle will fully understand how he wasted, err…used his favor with me.”

“I…I will see…what I can do.”

“Good,” stated the Confederate officer, “goodbye.”

She abruptly hung up the call before turning back to Chun, “The station is yours again Ensign.  If he tries calling again, route it directly to my comlink.  We don’t all have to deal with his bullshit.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’ll be in the cafeteria if you need me, or if anyone needs me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Yes, well…good,” decided Trutzig, strolling out of the somewhat cleaner bridge.

She glanced at her wrist chrono.  It’s close enough to breakfast time, I guess.  She trudged down towards the ship’s cafeteria, though it seemed to take her forever to get there, between dodging the repair crews and the weight of being slightly sleep deprived.   Captain Trutzig sauntered into the room, grabbing a pre-filled cup of caf before meandering into a knot of crewmen clustered around the room’s holo-projector, which showed images taken by a recon flight off of one of the Arconit’s light transports.

“This is what we almost died for, a desert world covered in some wrecked factories and garbage?” questioned one of the men, a lanky enlisted man.

The Captain clamped her mouth shut.

“Look Morsi, it’s not what it is now, but what it could be…”

Holly recognized the voice of as belonging to one of her more competent sensor operators.

“…what I heard on the bars back on Felucia was that they were going to refurbish some of the factories down there with some more modern equipment, and start pumping droids out of there again with the old ones.  A little repair, a little updating, and who knows, they can probably make some droids down there to do all of that work for them.  And just think, several years from now, it could be the next Telti.  That’s why I had to send this report back to command.”

“You did what, ensign?” questioned Captain Trutzig, edging her way to the holo-projector.

“Ah, good morning ma’am,” said Ensign Crem, crisply snapping to attention.

She waved the décor away, “I want to know about this report you sent…you sent it with the courier drone?”

“I did.”

“What did it say?”

“Well ma’am, as you know, I am under standing orders to forward any information that I think is interesting or unusual to command.  Scanning the planet, and after a brief flyby over many of the sites, I think the factories down there are in better shape than people would initially think.  It appears that some of them have been being maintained by successive generations of droids.  With a little work, they could be profitable again.  That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

She nodded, “That’s my understanding of their business plan…”

“So just think, this place could start turning out hundreds of the C1s that saved us in that earlier fight without a whole lot of investment.  I think that’s a pretty good risk to take.  Well, it would be if I were I businessman.”

“Let’s hope your vision, and Mister Miin’s down there, works out,” said Holly downing her cup of caf.