The Rebel Faction

Waiting, waiting.

What could possibly be taking them so long?

The thought seemed to pop up every 5 minutes or so, reinforced by the ardously slow processions of vessels outside in thh void of space. The stars twinled a bit in the backround, but Raleck had watched them for far, far,far too long. It was getting ridiculous; Raleck was sure his ship did not advance forward at all for over 20 minutes! No explination was offered, just a silent procession as Chandaar defense fighters and customs vessels weaved in and out, among the many vessel crowding the few space lanes left open to normal traffic. Raleck had taken the time to brush up on his Dejarik, and contemplate thoughts, his own views, ideas and dreams and the universe in general.

Having successfuly allowed himself to be decimated by the computer several times, Raleck decided to leave the board game aside for a while and give up the ghost, he was by no means a skilled dejarik opponent. The nuances of the game, while easily visible to him, were difficult to grasp, to even expereinced players, and often little known or archaic rules were used against him to great effect- its easy to beat someone when they don't know what your doing. Of course, he attributed much of his losing ways to being too easily distracted. He needed to see the results happening quickly, rather than look at things in the long run. Thus, he was always falling into traps and cursing himself for not being more patient. Still, patientce grows with age, and Raleck wa by no stretch of the imagination old. Confident of himself, he ooften rushed into things and quite sure of himself, though he was slowly outgrowing those traits with every beating he took- and not just on a dejarik board.

He sat in silence, for awhile, staring out at the processin of ships, which was slowly moving again. His already extensive knowledge of ship classes and desgins was going to be greatly increased by this trip, as he looked out and stared at the various rare and unusual ships which joned in among the stock vessel common in this sector of space. Lumbering Bulk Cruisers, frieghters of every make and modl from Aqualish junks to YT models and everythign in between. Many of the ships seemed cobbled together, some of them appeared as if they should never had been flying, and others made Raleck wonder how the craft ha made it out of the atmoshpere. On the other hand, many of the vessel seemed in an almost unheard of state of readiness or polish- like they had been dressed up to impress the king, or his srvants as they prepared to come to the grand gala.

Raleck hadn;t had time to fix up his personal transport before being summouned- he been so worried the king might change his mind that he had jumped in almost immediatly and was putting in hyper coordinates before he had even revved up the engine. It seemed however, his haste was not going to pay off. The thought suddenly struck his as to what was cordoning off the rest of Chandaar, leaving only the few space lines open to traffic. Squinting, then conulting his sensor it appeared most of the planet was enshrouded by mines, of what make or model he could not determine, but definatly dangerous space minesfields. The Jewel of Tion obviously was something of enough importance to be cordoned away in a saftey deposit box for safekeeping.

Fr a second he almost thought about pulling out of the space line and making a daring, holomovie like run through the mins toward the planet. he might have done it too, if not for the fact he had a large chance of death, and that even if he suirvived such an ordeal, it was likley to get him court martialed and in REAL trouble with the royal court. Besides the more mature growing voice inside his head told him such a rash action would make him seem young and childish, an image he was hoping to shed, sub-consioucly so his opinions and ideas would be taken more seriously.

Thus, with a small sign he resigned himself to the wait. The line was slowly starting to speed up, and there appeared to be some hope for actually making it to the surface of Chandaar before the gala had actually begun. His hopes rekindled as several large transports passed through in rapid succession, Raleck quickly manipulated his pilots controll, pushing forward on the yoke and easing his craft forward toward the now vacant spot ahead of him. With any lck he would'nt have to eb searched, and once he got past the checkpoint he could sail free down to the planet that was the head center, the nerve control unit of the Cronese Mandate. The planet was glistening, rotating slowl, its brilliant cities staring up at Raleck invitingly. Raleck had always felt the planet was his world, one he would some day run as a royal administartor. Most boys hated their orginal home and wished to explore but Raleck loved the busy, nosiey Capital of the Cron. He was looking forward to ebing back on it.

His true home.

He wondered if he would get to talk to his "Uncle" before the gala. If he did would he remember the scrap they had had before he had been penned of to the navy? what would he do if he did? Was he still angry?

raleck doubted it. The King could hardly stay mad at him for a simple opinion- in fact he probably wasn't even mad in the first place- he just needed to get Raleck out of his hair whil he complete the deal with the Black dargon Representatives. Of course, his 'Uncle' was somewhat upredictable at time. Maybe he was still holdin out on a grudge? The thought worried Raleck.

Without anew running threw his mind, Raleck's vessel lurched forward, that much closer to Chandaar.

In orbit above Chandaar...

Admiral Maximillian Anen patrolled the busy area of the Bulwalk battlecruiser's bridge, as the crew stations by the command walkway continued to receive more updates from the king's gala, and space traffic coming and going from the surface of Chandaar. Reading each report, the results were not as to par as he expected. There were more reports of unrest and the rumours of BDE sabotage on the surface were becoming more frequent with each update. The Admiral of the HRH Chandaar's Fleet debated in his head whether the Black Dragon Empire's presence here to observe the king's gala was nothing more than a prelude for a sneak attack. Then again, this was the least of his worries. The organization of space traffic was causing more headaches than he wanted. Everyone who was important in the Cronese Mandate was here and the gala hosted in the capital of the ancient Kingdom of Cron was something not to be fouled up by cluttered traffic.

So he would see. The Admiral continued his inspection of the bridge as he paced himself quietly about.

Along the curved bulkhead, near a small computer terminal, two of the king's guards stood at the exit of the bridge. Unlike the Admiral, these troopers were relaxed in their stance. One leaned casually against the wall-- no easy feat, given the fact that he was clad from head to toe in sparkling silver armor. His colleague held only a slightly more militaristic pose. Neither man faced their superior, so both were unaware of his presence. Gliding over slightly, the Admiral could just hear their quiet conversation.

"I tell you," the one against the bulkhead spoke with a low voice to the other, "if they aren't going to do something about this situation down on the surface, we're going to have more trouble brewing. The communications array has been knocked out. They say it was pirates, but I am thinking it may have been the BDE."

"It's only been a few hours after the incident," the other replied with doubt in his voice. "I don't think they even collected any evidence yet. The fire is still raging after the explosion."

"I'm telling you," the first argued, "that if we don't send down another garrison by now, we're going to lose control down there and then the King's gala may be threatened. And that should tell you something if the BDE doesn't help in this incident."

"What do you mean?" his comrade responded, and even Anen could hear the unease in the man's voice.

The first guard shifted his stance slightly. "I've heard rumours that the Black Dragon Empire may be planning a sneak attack. I think Anen is hiding that from us." His voice had dropped surprisingly low, considering he had to speak through his helmet. "I think the king is hiding many things."

"Talk like that will get you imprisoned," his friend warned him.

"Or worse," Admiral Anen added in a gentle, melodic voice.

Both soldiers turned suddenly, clearly caught off guard. That was the technique the Admiral enjoyed the most: knock an opponent off balance and strike while he was teetering.

"Sir, I-I didn't know you were here," the first stammered.

"Obviously," the Admiral replied easily, enjoying the man's apparent discomfort. He decided to let him squirm a moment longer and so remained silent, forcing the trooper to try to dig his way out of his shallow grave.

"I'm sorry, sir, I meant no disservice. I was just explaining my concerns to---"

"Don't bother trying to explain anything to me, trooper," Anen interrupted coldly. "I know exactly what you were trying to explain to your 'friend' here." He nodded to the other man. "You feel I am keeping things from you, keeping you in the dark so to speak?"

"It's just that--"

"It's just nothing," Anen warned him darkly, his facade of pleasantness a memory. "You know all that you need to know and nothing more or less, like the rest of us. To serve the Kingdom of Cron is to trust in its servants completely and question nothing."

The king's guards remained silent, and the Admiral knew they were both too frightened to speak. That fear warmed his cold heart. The corners of his thin lips twitched in growing pleasure. He relaxed his stance ever so slightly.

"But," he graciously allowed, "you do make a good point in your own simplistic fashion."

"Sir?" the second trooper asked, and Anen knew they were fishing for anything to redeem themselves.

"The war with the Imperium is far from over," he admitted. "We may not have the strength and the power to resist the Black Dragon Empire; that much is obvious. However, the King will be negotiating a pact with them after his commemoration, hence why this gala is being hosted here on Chandaar. When the pact is sealed and negotiations are completed, the Kingdom of Cron will forever be intact under the rule of our glorious King," the Admiral explained, momentarily caught up in his own fervor.

A bridge officer approached. "Admiral," he whispered with just the right amount of reverence. "Sir-- the Imperium's fleet are mobilizing their forces toward us."

He turned his head slightly in surprise to address the young Lieutanant. "Mobilizing? Against us? Are you sure your scopes are reading right?"

"Yes, sir." He nodded briskly, then look toward the viewports at the massive fleet of Farfalen, Tion, and Dameun battlecruisers changing course. The viewports did not lie. Instead of orbiting alongside the King's entourage, the battle fleet were now mobilizing in an attack formation against the royal fleet.

He turned back to the two guards and narrowed his eyes. "Since you both have so much free time on your hands to reflect, I will see about relocating you to a post that you will undoubtedly find more... challenging," he told them. "Perhaps somewhere at one of our gunner stations," he mused. "Report to your commander for new orders. Your tour of duty aboard this bridge is now over."

"Sir!" one of the officers called out from his station. "BDE fleet are powering up their shields and weapons! They're preparing to fire!"

The Admiral's jaw dropped. "Treachery! Raise our shields and power our weapons! Prepare to retali--"

"Sir! BDE fleet is attacking! They're firing--"

An explosion rocked the bridge where the Admiral and his crew were nestled, flinging comm officers and several of the king's guards into the air. Admiral Anen flew backward and slammed into the bulkhead, his entire body shuddering with the power of his hit. Blood and shrapnel rained around him. Smoke and dust rose, filling the bridge with a grainy darkness. He could hear nothing. With a shaking hand, he touched the side of his face. Warmth stained his cheeks and his earlobes. The ringing would start soon. The explosion was loud enough to affect his eardrums.

Emergency glow panels seared the gloom. He could feel, rather than hear, pieces of the bridge debris fall to the floor. A weapons officer had landed beside him, his head tilted at an unnatural angle. He grabbed his blaster. He had to get a message out. As well, he wasn't certain if the attack had compromised the hull and an air breach would be imminent. Whatever the outcome was, he had to make certain the King and Chandaar itself were informed of this attack. Sneak attack!

The force of the explosion had affected his balance. He crawled over bodies, some still moving, as he made his way to the comm station. The slightest movement made him dizzy and nauseous, but he ignored the feelings. He had to.

The Admiral reached the comm station. He used the remains of a desk to get to his feet. His white tunic was soaked in blood, sticky, and clinging to his skin. He held the blaster in front of him, wishing that he could hear. If he could hear, he could defend himself if the BDE had breached the ship.

His hand reached out to the panel and signalled headquarters. He spoke in brief sentences.

"Chandaar Central! Can you hear me?!"

"Admiral Anen?--What-- appened?--scopes--attack--BDE--" the comm clipped out.

"We are under attack. Treachery! Black Dragon Empire has betrayed us! We are under attack!" He rambled his words randomly, not able to hear the officer's responses through the comm.

"Admiral! Can--hear? BDE attacking surface! Send supp--ort."

More debris dropped from the bridge ceiling. He crouched, hands over his head to protect himself. Small pieces pelted him, and the floor shivered as large chunks of what was left of the bridge fell again. Dust rose, choking him. He coughed, feeling it, but not able to hear it.

Within an instant, the bridge of the battlecruiser which housed himself and his crew, and assigned to protect the planet of Chandaar had gone from a busy workstation to a charnel house.

"Battle stations!" he cried out over the sound of klaxons. "All personnel to battle stations!" He then slumped over the desk and slipped into the arms of death...