The Rebel Faction

"What do you think?" The Dean of the University of Brigia stood up and gripped the bars nearest to Kix. "You and your captain like getting paid-- I know the kind of outrageous fees mercenaries charge for their services-- and me and my family like remaining alive. I'm probably as fond of that as you are of credits."

The storm commando let his masked gaze rest upon the other's sweating face. "We get paid enough, so no deal. You should have considered how precious your life and family is to you before you incurred the wrath of the Black Dragon Empire. It's a little late for regrets now."

"What about information? Information that is worth more credits than the Black Dragon Empire can pay you." The official pressed his face into the bars, as though he could somehow squeeze out between them through the sheer force of his desperation. "You let me and my family go and what I tell you will make it worth your while."

"I doubt it," said Kix coldly. "The Black Dragon Empire have an excellent spynet. That's why our job has been easy so far."

"So why do you think the BDE want to get me back so badly?" The dean's knuckles turned white and bloodless as his fists tightened. "Just for abandoning my position as a diplomat and leaving?"

"It's not my business as to why the Black Dragon Empire desires certain things. Things such as yourself." A small indicator light pulsed on his wrist-mounted data readout; he'd have to return to the shuttle's controls soon, as he was informed Sleeping Death had tractored them in. "I'm just pleased that we have you now under our custody."

"Let me tell you at least." The dean lowered his voice, though there was no one to overhear. "I know information-- vital information about Brigia's heirarchy. I know of a social event in which the entire royal family will be there at one place at one time."

"Is that so?" Kix knew how tight the Tion Hegemony was with information; it was a characteristic they had been developing ever since the expansion into their territory had commenced. There had been times when Sij Olith needed to take extreme measures to get information for the completion of a mission, even when the terms had been agreed upon beforehand by the other party.

"Yes-- and it cannot be overlooked for your captain to take advantage of. And now that I told you, what do you think?"

"Well, I am sure Captain Anre would like to hear this." Kix shrugged. "To me, its not good enough. Plus, I could care less."

"Look, I'll pay you credits as well. As much as you want. I am one of the wealthiest on Brigia." The dean trembled with the fervor of his plea. "Every credit I have in my accounts-- it's all yours. Just let me go."

"So what is this social event on Brigia that its heirarchy is involved?"

The dean drew back from the cage's bars. "It is the President's son. It is his birthday. There will be a large party. Many important officials are invited. The location is hidden because of fear of the likes of you dropping in." His eyes narrowed.

"We could very easily find out the location." Davin kept his voice as level and emotionless as before. "The extracting of useful information is a speciality of ours."

"It's memory-encrypted," said the dean. "Below the conscious level. And with a trauma sensor implanted." He pointed to a small scar just above his left ear.

"There's ways around those things." Kix had seen them before. "It doesn't matter to me, though. Since I'm not making a deal with you, anyway."

"But why not?!" The dean had reached one of his skinny arms through the bars, trying to grab hold of Kix's sleeve. "It's worthy information-- it's more than the Black Dragon Empire's spynet could have conjured up--"

"It very well might be." The storm commando had stepped away from the cage, back to the unadorned and functional metal threads that would return him to the shuttle's cockpit. "Even if you do have the location hidden away in your head, I'm not interested. Or not interested enough."

"Not interested?..." The dean gaped at him in amazement and dismay. "But why?"

"I have my standards... " One of his gloved hands grasped the ladder's side rail; he looked back over his shoulder at the cage. "But perhaps Captain Anre would strike the information deal in trade for your family only."

The official's knees visibly weakened, his hands sliding down the bars as he sank limply toward the cage's floor. Whatever glint of hope had been in his face for his life was now extinguished.

"I suggest you go ahead and eat." Kix Davin nodded his helmet toward the tray and its congealed contents. "You'll need to keep up your strength as we make our way to see the captain. Sully has arranged a cell for you and your family aboard Sleeping Death."

He didn't wait for an answer. The storm commando climbed up from the shuttle's holding pens and back toward its waiting cockpit, as the Star Destroyer pulled them inside the hangar bay...


Three weeks after, in the throne room of the Palace of Brigia...

The dance ended, and the music was silenced. Zem Renneyn stood as she had finished: on single tiptoe, her opposite arm upstretched, reaching with silent eloquence for the stars or perhaps merely the approval of the coordinator. For a pair of heartbeats she held the pose. Then, with a dramatic flourish, she collapsed again to the floor, arms sweeping around and onto the floor in front of her like the wings of a downed hawkbat, legs shifting to curl half around her, one in front and one behind, torso bent forward over her arms. Grace and beauty and style, transformed in an instant to unworthiness and submission and humility. The precise combination, or so she'd been informed, that Brigia's heirarchy liked in their dancers.

As did, presumably, the fat, scar-headed human sprawled on the plush chair in front of her. But the seconds dragged on and he just sat there, not speaking, watching her. Zem held her pose, clad in lustrous black leather, breathing quickly and shallowly into cramped lungs and wondering if she should go ahead and get up without waiting for permission. But the fat royal had already demonstrated his enjoyment of giving orders, particularly to helpless underlings. If she wanted to become one of those underlings, it would be best to allow him that extra little bit of egotism.

So she waited for his orders, and after a few seconds more he was ready to give them. "Rise," he said, his tone as indulgent as the rest of him. "Come here."

She did so. Up close the man was even more repulsive, his vaguely greasy aroma approaching suffocation level. But the president's son himself, she knew, would be worse. Maybe this was part of the test.

"You dance very well, Zem," he said, looking her up and down, eyeing her long hair and pale skin. "Very well, indeed. Tell me, what else do you do well?"

"Whatever your son would require of me," she replied. Her striking, pale-blue eyes were fixed on the father.

"Very good," the president said. "Not what I would require, but what my son would require. A wise answer; but perhaps not wise enough. Tell me, do you see who you are dealing with here?"

"Yes, I do," Zem replied softly. It was apparant Brigian royalty were not to be taken lightly as far as standards. At least, not openly. And in her eyes, this petty royal was little more than cannon fodder for the Black Dragon Empire.

"Good," the fat official said. "Well, then. You're hired. You'll start tommorrow with the other dancers, as we have only a week until my son's birthday and the rest of our family arrives." He looked at the door and snapped his fat, pudgy fingers. One of the palace's guards detached himself from the door and strided over. "The guard will show you the way. I'll will be seeing you, Zem."

"I will be honored," she said, bowing humbly as she backed away. Groveling before him.

But that was all right. Let the petty royal revel in his petty power over her. Trusted leader of one of the most powerful royal families in the Tion Hegemony, he was still nothing. The Black Dragon Empire could crush their world with a sweep of their fleet; could bring down his entire palace with a hail of turbolaser fire; could destroy all aspect of independant government on this backwater of a planet and they would be ready to accomplish their next task in their expansion. And if none of that happened, it was merely because they had more important matters to attend to.

She was quietly escorted into the depths of the palace. The only items she carried hidden in her things was a thermal detonator, a scrambled communicator, and a small blaster. It was all she needed. With the BDE as her ally, she would be unstoppable...

The day of the festival...

By the time Zem was brought back to the royals by their guards, the throne room had become crowded, thick with humans and aliens and smoke and noise. In the background a band was playing; in the center, in front of the president's throne, a young woman was dancing while Zalana was overseeing the event.

And she was pretty good.

Standing by the archway leading back to the corridors and the rooms, staying to the background, Zem kept half an eye on the dancer's performance as she studied the room and its occupants. A decidedly uppity crowd, no doubt about it, ranging from the obviously snotty nobles trying to impress the Brigian president with their charms, right up to the most popular names on the Tion Hegemony's most-wealthiest list.

She stiffened. In the back of her mind, she knew it was now or never. If she was going to carry this out, the royals had to die before their security would lay claim to their rescue if they became aware. Her hand caressed behind her hip in which the thermal detonator was carefully hidden underneath her dancer's outfit.

Deliberately, she took a slow breath, calming her mind and preparing her body for action. Her eyes and mind swept back across the room, seeking an opening to plant the explosive--

Just in time to hear a shout fading off in the distance. Zem spotted Zalana quickly crouching at one edge of the archway, peering eagerly at whatever was happening in the corridor.

And then, suddenly, the show was forgotten. From the archway on the far side of the throne room came the sound of brief commotion; and then, pushing recklessly past the guards, an armed and armored officer appeared, leading another Brigian officer behind him in a panicked state.

"Our sensor arrays have picked up a Star Destroyer and several ships entering our system!" He announced to the president. "It appears to be the Black Dragon Empire!"

Zem smiled tightly. So simple, so classic, so unimaginative. The best way to intimidate an enemy, the Black Dragon Empire always thought, was to come in mass numbers and threaten to blast everything in sight. If they didn't want this planet intact, they would have simply established orbit and resorted to planetary bombardment with turbolasers from their Star Destroyer.

But this time it wasn't going to work. Frowning slightly with concentration, trying to ignore the noisy clutter of all the other people in the room, she focused on finding the best place to plant the explosive and quickly make a clean getaway. The table in front of her was appealing to the task. If she could get close, her hand could attach it underneath, then she could walk away. The presence of the BDE shouldn't matter.

And it shouldn't have mattered. Zem was here to kill the royal family, and them alone. Anyone else was just clutter; and the royal's security ought to be capable of handling clutter.

The footfalls approaching gave her advance warning. To her surprise, it was all the warning anyone got. Without a whisper of noise or trouble from the supposedly alert guards outside, the Black Dragon Empire was suddenly there in the throne room, in the form of an immense armored figure, the markings on his blemished armor clearly indicating he was a general. He was flanked by two black-armored stormtroopers. The advanced warnings of their coming had prepared Zem for an achievement of this caliber. Even so, she was still impressed that this general had arrived at the palace in the eve of blowing up the throne room.

The Black Dragon Empire had arrived too soon...

Some of the president's guards were beginning to move into positions around the huge armored general as Zalana stepped to his superior's side and murmured in panicked sentences in her native Brigian tongue. The president's huge bleary eyes blinked several times as he took stock of the situation. He looked at the armored general and at his stormtroopers in position. The general of the BDE then spoke in a deep-vocodored voice:

"I am General Grevious of the Black Dragon Empire. Brigia has now been declared a part of the Black Tion Hegemony under command of Supreme Administrator Sully Anre. You are to remove yourself from position as President and hand over all authority to us."

The President laughed in defiance.

Shouts echoed through the throne room, rousing what was left of his security into a scramble for a last stand. A few blasters appeared, but most weapons stayed in their holsters as the courtiers became surrounded by more of the Black Dragon Empire's stormtroopers approaching.

It was the moment Zem had been waiting for: quiet confusion, no one quite sure what was happening, no one quite sure where anyone else was. The moment to strike. She took a silent step to her right, to where one of the security guards was gripping his blaster rifle and trying mightily to make sense of the situation. His small blaster rested ignored in its holster. She would first plant the explosive under the table, or try to take the small blaster from him for a quick escape if she failed. But her plan couldn't fail.

Reaching smoothly around behind, Zem got a grip on the thermal detonator, switched in on, then subtly planted it under the table--

And froze as a hard object jabbed firmly into the small of her back.

She'd been wrong.

"No sudden moves, woman," the guard murmured in her ear. "What were you doing? Answer me, unless you want to die here. Come with me, very slowly."

Silently, furious with herself, Zem let the guard guide her backward out of the throne room. She should had known that a sleaze like this security guard would have been watching in the shadows. Concentrating exclusively on the situation and the BDE instead, she'd been sloppy.

From the throne room came a sudden massive explosion, and several blaster shots. Zem craned her neck, but the room was too far away for her to see what was happening. "What the hell?!" the guard commented in shock as he pulled her into the corridor nearby. "Come with me!"

Zem did as ordered, studying the guard out of the corner of her eye as she turned and stared down the indicated corridor. The guard had the blaster; but she had the training, with the strength and will to drive it. If she reached out right now and snatched the blaster away...

She glanced down at the guard's hand. No. Not from a grip that tight. Not without the other getting at least one shot off first.

Combat, then? There were several ways to just plain incapacitate an enemy by jabbing with her limb directly into the victim's body. But all the techniques required at least a little time to subdue him, and in the guard's alert state of mind there was a good chance he would again get off that one shot.

"You're being quiet, woman. What were you doing back there?" the guard commented as he pushed her down the panicked corridors in a hurry.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Zem told him. "I haven't done anything."

"Sure, you haven't," the guard said grimly. "That explosion back there a bomb you planted? Did the Black Dragon Empire send you to kill our president?" He jabbed the blaster muzzle again into Zem's back. "Answer me!"

Zem blinked. "I don't know what you're talking about!" she protested, trying one last time. "I have nothing against our president."

"Sure you haven't. No matter. He is dead, and now our Brigian army will have to deal with the BDE." The guard jabbed again. "In here, woman."

It was another corridor, this one slanting sharply downward before leveling out and bending away out of sight. Loitering just inside the corridor entrance was another pair of security guards, standing with their blasters gripped and in a state of panic. "What are you doing standing around here?!" the guard snarled at them. "Don't you see I have a prisoner?!"

Suddenly, they pulled themselves a little more upright. "That's better," the security officer growled. "Now take this woman and lock her in the palace cell. She will make good bargaining chip to deal with the Black Dragon Empire, since I believe she killed our president."

He gave Zem a shove toward them. "Get moving! Be a good little woman and maybe I tell the BDE that we have you. Perhaps they will rescue you or let you die here."

"We'll see," Zem replied, looking back over her shoulder. She still couldn't safely snatch the blaster from the guard's grip, and attempting to snatch the vibroblade strapped to his thigh was out of the question. But what she could do...

Reaching out with a back elbow to his hand, she gave the muzzle a sharp twist to the right. There was a flash as the guard reflexively fired, the blast sounding twice as loud as usual in the confines of the corridor. It was followed by a yelp of pain and rage from the other security guard, the officer just shot. The other guard watched in anger at watching his companion fall to the ground dead, and he quickly leapt toward the officer who had unreasonably attacked them.

The security officer's expression at what he'd just done was priceless, but Zem didn't have time to enjoy it. With her captor's attention distracted, now was the time to act. Ducking around the other guard, she snatched the vibroblade from the officer's thigh, then sprinted down the corridor.

"Stop woman!" the officer shouted. But she paid no attention. A pair of quick shots lit up the corridor, scattering paint chips and spurts of dust.

And then it was just the sounds of the guard's angry and increasingly frantic shouts. Zem kept running, hoping she could get out of the line of fire before they got things straightened out up there. Near the bottom of the corridor came her first opportunity: a curved cross-corridor that branched off to the left. Throwing a last glance back at the noisy confrontation, she ducked down it.

Zem took a deep breath of the humid air. All right. Fine. So now she was on the run. But at least, she had only the guards to deal with, and to add her mission was complete, although the royal's death may had taken the lives of the BDE soldiers up there. No matter.

She cursed under her breath as she approached a metal grating blocking the passageway. Stepping back from it, she looked for some kind of opening mechanism--

She heard the shuffling behind her on the tunnel floor. She spun around, dropping into combat stance. Blaster shots were heard in the tunnels, and screams accompanied afterward. Zem recognized them as the security officer and probably the other one as well. Seems the Black Dragon Empire had found them and didn't want to strike a deal. It was time for her to make her escape. She would reach the outside world, find a quick transport out of here, and she would no longer have to work for them anymore. She could plan her revenge on her own time, then.

Breathing heavily, she turned back to the grating. The vibroblade made no sound as it cut through the metal, but it didn't matter if it did. There was probably enough of a ruckus coming down from the firefight in the palace to cover it. Shutting the vibroblade down, she quickly pitched it through the opening, then made her way into the further confines of the corridor.

Toward freedom...

Zem eventually emerged into the outside of the royal palace. In the distance, beyond the panicking crowd in the vast landscapes was a large transport barge, busily taking on passengers to escape subjection to the invading armies. To one side, a pair of skiffs were similarly being loaded. Guards were everywhere: human and aliens of a half-dozen other species; on the barge, roughly controlling the panicked crowd as they weeded out those apparently not invited to go along. Trails of black smoke rose in the far area of the palace, apparently the site of where the themal detonator had made its mark. Zem could barely make out the the scattered corpses of the Brigian guards who took their final stand against the BDE army.

Pushing through the crowds, she hurried to find an appropriate vehicle to steal and quickly make her getaway back to freedom. The guards were watching as she made her way, but she couldn't read anything but normal caution in their faces and stances. Apparently, word of her alleged involvement with the BDE hadn't gotten to them yet. She then spotted a ragged human mounting a swoop to prepare his escape from the invading BDE force.

"Sir? please?" she called in her best quivering voice. The tramper turned his head toward her.

"I'm Zem, one of the dancers for the royal family," she explained. "Could I please escape with you? I do not wish to become captured by the BDE."

The human grumbled and gestured to one of the guards. "This swoop's got no room for one more. Get on one of those skiffs and escape with them."

"Please, sir?" she begged. He shook his head defiantly. She might as well have spat at a stone wall.

Very well. Time to play the hard way. She narrowed her pale eyes and pulled her vibroblade, placing it quickly under his chin.

"You will give me your swoop..."

For a moment the tramper locked eyes with Zem, trying futilely to resist her powerful suggestion and failing. "Well, it looks like you need this swoop more than I do."

"Thank you for your kindness, sir," she said, in a tone sweet as honey as the blade withdrew slowly from his throat. The tramper dismounted and offered the swoop to her. She took no time in hopping on, when she suddenly noticed a figure approaching her.

It was the armored general. How did he survive?! How did all of them survive?! her thoughts flared in panic.

Sure enough, the Black Dragon Empire had caught up with her. And the general had brought a half-dozen stormtroopers with him. Two by two, blocking her escape with their armored bulk, they started toward her.

General Grevious didn't have time for this, and he wasn't in the mood for it anyway. Outstretching his hand and reaching out with the Force, he jabbed hard at the mind of the assassin. Zem stopped short, quivered for a moment on her mount, her vibroblade dropping with a clatter from her limp hand. Then, she collapsed from the swoop.

"Take her to the nearest shuttle back to the Sleeping Death," General Grevious ordered. "Her mission is done here..."