The Rebel Faction

It was crowded, it was smelly, it was loud, it was dirty; the only thing it wasn't, was a place where a member of one of the Kuati royal houses should be. Yalla, Relka, and Jarvis shuffled through the crowd, squeezing into a back room where they found three humans, all female, sitting uncomfortably in the dingy room. Yalla stepped forward, growling something loudly at them. They jumped slightly, looking startled and a little scared.
"She asked who's in charge here," Jarvis said, stepping beside Yalla and casting the three young women a contemptuous glance.

"I am," The youngest of the women said, standing up and walking over toward Yalla and Jarvis, where she hesitated a moment before extending her hand slowly.

"We're not animals," Jarvis said roughly, "just aliens," he spat, grabbing her hand and shaking it quickly.

"I'm sorry," The girl said quickly, blushing slightly and looking rather ashamed, "I didn't mean—" Yalla growled at her softly and turned toward the door.

"Lets go," Relka said sharply, reaching beneath his robes and deactivating the safety on his blaster. He didn't know what was going on, but he could tell something was worrying Yalla. Jarvis looked around restlessly, unsure of what was going on. He reached beneath his own jacket, flipping his weapon's safety off. Relka walked out first, with the three women, their faces concealed beneath hoods, following immediately behind. Yalla and Jarvis walked behind them, stealing glances all around.

Just outside the spaceport, a flash of red light erupted somewhere behind the group, then Yalla roared a curse, spinning around and bringing her bowcaster to bear. In the split second it took Jarvis to realize what was going on, he noticed the smoking hole in Yalla's fur, just below her left shoulder. He pulled out his blaster, firing wildly at the general area Yalla was targeting. "Run!" He yelled, dropping to a knee and scanning the area for the assailant. Jarvis had never been a very good shot with a handgun, and he was even a worse shot when surprised, but he had a job to do, and he wasn't about to leave Yalla, wounded and in pain, to cover their retreat.

Two more bolts streaked out from a nearby window, flying past Jarvis and Yalla, bearing down on the three women. One of the women turned around, throwing herself into the path of the bolts, which would have hit the youngest one otherwise. One of the bolts caught her squarely in the chest, and she collapsed on the ground, dead. Jarvis and Yalla sprayed the window with laserfire, then turned and ran for the spaceport. Relka was pulling the two women into the spaceport against their will, as they fought to reach their fallen friend's body.

Yalla tossed Jarvis her bowcaster, then swept up the youngest woman, growling for Relka to leave the other one alone. The woman followed after them, trying to catch up with her younger companion. The group rounded a corner, and found three people waiting outside their freighter's access ramp, blaster rifles at the ready. Yalla dropped the young woman, grabbing her bowcaster from Jarvis, and the three began firing at the awaiting henchmen. The enemies returned fire, and Yalla took nother blaster bolt, this time to her hip. She took out one of the men, and Relka, now holding his pistol and a small hold-out blaster, shot another one. The third ran off quickly, smart enough to get away while he could.

An hour later, the ship was just leaving the planet's gravity field, and Relka was preparing for the jump to hyperspace. Yalla was limping around the bridge, too angry to talk, with bacta patches over her left shoulder and hip. Jarvis was staring at the two young women, who had been weeping profusely since their friend's death. "Alright," Jarvis said sharply, "it's about time I know what's going on here."

"Yeah, me too," Relka added as he entered a last few commands into the nav computer, then spun around so he could see everyone.

The young woman looked up slowly, fighting back tears and trying to compose herself. "My name is Jemmiel," She said after a moment of silence. "I'm on my way to Corellia to stop my father making a terrible mistake. He's about to become party to a massive, underground slave operation, and I have to stop him."

"Oh, and who is she?" Jarvis asked incredulously, pointing to the other woman. "I know how things work on Kuat."

Jemmiel was taken aback. "She . . . she's . . .um, that's different." She finally managed. "She's free now, and . . . and here by her own free will."

"And the one that's in the Kuati morgue right now? what about her?"

"Alyssa was one of my servants as well, but she chose to come with us. She chose to help us," Jemmiel said, sounding a little uncertain. She paused for a moment, then fixed Jarvis with an icy stare and said coldly, "Wait a minute; I am a member of the Kuati Royal Houses. I don't have to answer to you. You are bound by contract to take me to Corellia, and that is all that you need to know."

"No, you wait a minute!" Jarvis yelled, stepping forward quickly and bending down to put his face nearer to hers, suddenly becoming a very intimidating alien. "You are onboard the Wandering One now, and that means the only person here that doesn't have to answer to anyone is Captain Yalla. Besides, by your refusal to use your last name when identifying yourself, I can only assume you don't plan to talk your father out of doing whatever he's about to do when you get to Corellia. Now, tell us what we want to know, or I'll load you in an escape pod and end all of my troubles right now!."

It was Yalla who spoke this time. She told Jarvis to calm down, and said she had known exactly what she was getting them all into. They were committed now, and the only way out was to help Jemmiel stop this slave operation.

Jarvis looked back at Jemmiel, who was looking rather confused. "You can't understand anything she's saying?" He asked condescendingly.

"All of our previous communication was by text. Smaller data stream, easier to conceal. I didn't even realize she was a Wookie."

Idiots, Jarvis thought, barely able to keep himself from saying it. "She said we're committed now; there's no turning back. That means I'm not gonna get to shoot you out of the ship, so you can stop worrying about that."

"Ready for the jump," Relka reported. Yalla growled the go-ahead, and the ship jumped.

"We don't have long," Jarvis said to Jemmiel, "what's the plan?"

"We don't know if The New Order is in on the slave operations or not, but even if they're completely unaware of it, they would never do anything to help us; after all, these are aliens—I mean non-humans—we're dealing with and we all know how little the Empire cares about freeing non-humans. That's almost diametrically opposed to their stated beliefs." Jemmiel paused, looking over at her former servant.

"I have some contacts on Corellia," She said, "but Alyssa had several. We were hoping to get a group together and sneak into the meeting. If we could somehow get at the leaders, who will be meeting with Mistress Jemmiel's father, we can destroy the whole organization."

"The Mistress thing is just a force of habit," Jemmiel interjected quickly. "I told her she didn't have to call me that anymore."

"How close can you get to your father," Jarvis asked. "We may be able to use your relationship with him to our advantage."

"I will not harm my own father!" Jemmiel exclaimed. "I'm here to stop a grave injustice that would stain my family's name, not destroy my family from within."

Yalla growled a comment, then sat in her chair and stared into the swirling vortex of hyperspace.

"She said we'll wait till we get to Corellia and make contact with your local friends, then see what we can do from there."

A little while later, back on the ship, Jarvis had just finished telling Jemmiel about what had happened, and the look of horror on her face made Jarvis feel for the first time like she might really be a living, breathing person after all. “There’s one more thing,” He added gravely, pulling a piece of fabric from one of his pockets. “The men in the room, they all had these armbands. Do you know anything about what it means.”

Jemmiel gasped, reaching out and taking the piece of fabric from Jarvis. “This is the symbol of my father’s personal security force. They wouldn’t have been there unless he had personally ordered them to be.” She stoped, shocked and appalled, then said, “He did this: he killed Sarah and Yalla. He murdered those five people. He’s the reason that poor man is on the brink of death. It’s all his fault.”

“Jemmiel,” Jarvis said softly, “there’s still something you can do. You can help us get justice. You can make sure this never happens again.”

* * *

Jemmiel walked down the hallway of one of the largest buildings in Coronet, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to do. She reached the tall doors at the end of the hall, and hurled herself against them, knocking them open and stumbling into the room, where two startled guards rushed forward and grabbed her. “Jemmiel, what are you doing here?” Her father said in a concerned tone, signaling his guards to let her go.

“You know exactly what I’m doing here,” She spat, stepping forward and fixing him with the most hateful stare she could muster. “You have to stop this; you have to let the slaves go.”

“Jemmiel, child, you need not worry about our family’s honor, I have—”

“This isn’t about honor anymore; it stopped being about honor when you killed Sarah and Captain Yalla! This is about justice now. You killed an honorable woman; killed her in the name of dishonorable profit,” She said, stretching out her arm as a holdout blaster shot from beneath the sleeve of her jacket, “and you have to pay for what you did.”

“Jemmiel, what are you doing? Give me that,” He said, stretching out his hand to take the weapon.

She lowered the weapon and shot him in the knee, sending him falling on the floor. The guards ran forward once again, but she pressed the barrel of the blaster firmly against her father’s head, and they stopped short, drawing their weapons but not approaching.

“If you want to live,” She said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small commlink. “You’ll call Boris.” She dropped the commlink on the floor just in front of him. “Tell him something’s come up, and he’ll need to attend the final meeting in your place. Tell him there’s a man in the front lobby with the briefcase that has the final payment in it. Tell him to take it and give it to whoever your boss is, and tell him not to open it, or you’ll be very disappointed. And make it sound good.”

Jemmiel’s father paused for a moment, collecting himself and steadying his breathing. Then, he picked up the commlink and made the call. “Good, now tell your guards to put their weapons down.” He did, and they complied. She stepped to the side, moving away from her father slightly, but keeping the gun pointed at him. “Now, call the front desk and tell them that there is a group of aliens from the Wandering Ones’ Alliance that will be arriving shortly. Tell them to let the aliens in. Once again, he did as she said, and the four waited while Jarvis and several of his crew members, under the guise of the fictitious Wandering Ones’ Alliance, made their way to the room.

* * *

Boris stepped into the meeting room, carrying his boss’s briefcase. He nodded in greeting, then took his boss’s place at the round table. “I regret to inform you that my master won’t be able to make it to the meeting; something very important has come up, and he has authorized me to close this deal.” Boris set the briefcase on the table and slid it across to the group’s leader. The man took the briefcase and opened it, and an explosive ball of fire leapt out to pay him.

* * *

Jarvis walked across the deck of one of the Astral Astoria’s many docking bays, stopping to greet Jemmiel and her companion. “Jarvis, this is Inspector Harvis of the Astral Astoria Customs Office. He has assured me that the liberated slaves will be allowed to stay here until we can find a suitable world to relocate them to.”

“And the prisoners?” Jarvis asked. “What’s going to happen to them?”

“The Astral Astoria has no authority to prosecute them, but they will be sent to Kuat, where they will be tried,” Jemmiel answered. “And we’ll make sure to let everyone know that my father was not cooperating of his own will, so you don’t have to worry about him trying to claim he helped us and should be absolved.”

“But he was so helpful with finding and freeing the slaves,” Jarvis said mockingly. Indeed, Jemmiel’s father had been very helpful. As the only survivor of the controlling body of the organization, Jemmiel and Jarvis had been able to make him convince the rest of the organization that he was in command of the situation, and had been able to track down and capture the rest of those involved with the slaving operation, as well as find where the slaves were being held and rescuing them.

“Well, I’ll be staying here,” Jemmiel said offhandedly. “Inspector Harvis has gotten me a job with the shipping department, and I won’t be welcome back on Kuat once my father’s in jail.”

“Well, if you ever need a motley crew of ‘aliens,’ I’d be happy to help. I’m a little new with this whole finding-jobs-for-my-crew thing.”

“Actually,” Jemmiel said, “there is this one job . . .”


OOC: If you want to read about his minor part in Smarts’ thread, which is what Jemmiel is referring to, check it out here:

http://therebelfaction.com/forums/showthread.php?t=9448