"Resurgence"
By: Rylaa Lyssander
Lorgal
Location: Secret Underground Base, Tae'Karada
Date:
Rheudis 26, 5 ABY
The passing months had not been kind to the resistance. Many fighters had fallen and many more had simply left as every strike only enraged the Jau, driving them to rash and violent actions. Instead of driving people to the resistance, as had been expected, it only cowed them further. The brave ones were dead or already fighting, only cowards remained. Even after the deployed of the bio-weapon Rylaa's scientists had developed, when people could see Jau drop dead at their feet, meant nothing to them. Then came the retaliation and the destruction of Thanatos.
The Jau thought they had broken the back of the resistance with their show of force, that nobody would stand against them after they proved that they were even sacrifice their own people to stop whatever weapons were brought against them. They were clueless, ignorant of the way the people of this remarkable planet thought. Even the most wrssle-like individual, the kind who would run at his own shadow, would stand and fight with only fingernails and teeth after something like that attack. Hours later secret resistance recruiters were flooded with calls from people wanting to join the fight against the occupiers while many more threatened to reveal cleverly hidden recruiting posts and security stations.
The thought they had broken the back of the resistance. The Jau were wrong.
*****
"Read me those numbers again." The command came from the serious looking man in the dark robes sitting in the throne-like chair that dominated the conference room. His raspy baritone spoke of one giving used to giving orders and having them obeyed.
"Nearly forty thousand now, boss. We barely have enough weapons for a third of them and not nearly enough veterans to turn them all into cells. We've taken to taking down contact information and promising training in the future. The camps in the forests and the desert are overwhelmed and there doesn't seem to be and relief in sight."
Rylaa placed his face very slowly into his palm and groaned. What the hell was he supposed to do with forty thousand patriots and rabblerousers? Never mind that the New Dawn had many times that number of members, legitimate and otherwise, they weren't all here.
Lorgal, Rylaa's secretary, bodyguard, and general dogsbody, coughed. It was a frightening sound coming from a barabel and everyone turned. Turned morose and churlish since the death of his broodmate months ago, Lorgal rarely spoke any more except to threaten someone. "We need to attack," he said matter-of-factly.
"Come again?" Rylaa replied as he looked up from his hand.
"We've got the numbers, now is the time to attack."
"And do what, slap the Jau to death? Hurl rocks and insults at them until they go away? We have numbers but they have the weapons, Lorgal, any attack we made would be put down quickly and ruthlessly. I don't need more people to die in my... I mean the resistance's name. Not like that." The assembled criminals blinked. That was certainly not something they expected their boss to say about anyone outside the New Dawn. The crime-lord actually looked a little abashed at the scrutiny.
"It would be possible," a quiet voice from the shadow interjected, "to call upon our allies, would it not? We have many independent smugglers still in contact with our organization through the use of our relays and many pirates group owe favors to you."
"I know, Rashid," Rylaa said with respect. The assassin was one of the few who had earned it. "And I've thought about it, but the Jau would notice the greater number of activity around the station and the spaceport and investigate."
"Actually, boss, I might be able to help out there," one of Rylaa's men said while raising a hand.
Several minutes later Rylaa jumped to his feet, grinning. "Get me the Jedi, we might just be able to pull this thing off!"
“Battle Worthy”
Cole Slaton
Dral Ordo
Location: Yallder District, New Plouton
Date: Rheudis 26, 5 ABY
***
A lot had happened to the young Jedi since fleeing the temple. For a time he’d thought of returning there, returning to the Jedi ways and their teachings, but the longer he remained apart from the Jedi the easier that thought slipped away until now it no longer plagued his mind.
The man who he only knew as Master had yet to reach him. That Cole knew was only a matter of time. You didn’t kill a Sith Lord without consequences. For weeks he’d trained in the Sith arts, to the point of challenging the Sith Lord. But he hadn’t been alone, he’d had help, and even then they had come close to dying.
A slice of luck? Was it fate? Or perhaps the Force was propelling Cole in a direction he still didn’t understand, or comprehend.
What was the Force? Did it control a man’s destiny? Could it really turn a good and honorable man to death and violence? Was so simple as Darkness and Light?
Deep down Cole didn’t think it was that simple. Life was never simple.
His fingers lightly touched the lightsabers at his side, hidden from view. One was damaged. Useless. An elaborate paperweight. The other was still the majestic, elegant blade Cole knew so well. A thumb traced the edges of the activation button. His skill with the blade was growing, but he still had much to learn about combat, and the Force.
Cole was determined. He knew he was still weak, unable to protect those he cared for. “I will be stronger...” he whispered under breath. A promise he made the day he left the Jedi Temple. The Jedi were wrong, and their arrogance will be their undoing.
The streets were deserted. Only the foolish walked at night. A notion that brought a glimmer of a smile to Cole’s face.
The night air was cool, and the city felt dormant now that people were mostly sleeping. Even the speeders that populated the streets were barely seen or heard in the distance. But despite the calmness that reigned at that time, it was also the time for those who wished to keep things secret or even commit acts that the law would not overlook. Killers and robbers, prostitutes and pimps, junkies who were too hooked to give up their sleep over another fix…
A man raced, his heart pumping wildly and his breathing heavy. He looked over his shoulder for a split second and almost stumbled on himself and fell. He could not die, he would not die. He turned a corner and cursed that nobody was around to help him. Why was it that when it seemed you needed someone was always when there was no one around to be found?! It was with that thought in his head that he saw somebody. Anybody would do, but this was a young man. Yes, he looked menacing enough to stand his own ground. He ran over, waving his arms.
"You’ve got to help me! He’s going to kill me!" he shouted at Cole.
Another man stepped out of the shadows. He was wearing a set of full body armor with a helmet. It was all black, trimmed with gold lines. He held a modified verpine shatter gun. "Step aside boy," he warned Cole. "There is no need for me to hurt you. I am just here for him…"
Cole was almost inclined to brush the man's hand away. What business was it of his? He had his own problems. Don't get involved... The thought was brushed away like dust on an old porch. "Boy?" Cole whispered. How he hated being called that. He was young, he could admit that, but did it give permission for every one 'jack the lad' over a certain decade to insinuate he was merely a boy?
"No..." Cole replied eyes glued on the armored figure.
"Th-thank you! Thank you..." The man stuttered, drool and spit spewing from his mouth in desperation. The man was pathetic.
"Don't be so quick to thank," Cole continued, eyes not leaving the figure across the street. "If I find out you deserve this man's attention, I'll hand him over to you, wrapped up as a present, tied up in your own intestines."
Dral Ordo immediately saw that this young man, whoever he was, thought himself good enough to oppose anyone who stood up to him. He wasn’t the type to follow orders but to lead, that much was certain. His mere choice of words stating that it would be he to decide whether Dral was worthy or not were proof of that. It was also insulting… "Unless you are looking for a quick death, you will turn and walk away. You will not get a second warning," he told Cole.
A street lamp flickered behind him. It gave off strange shadows, men with rifles aimed to his back, demons silently stalking him. None were real, Cole begun to entrust himself in the Force. "If you wish to dance..." Shifting his stance ever so slightly, his weight now resting on this balls of his feet, he lifted his right arm, palm open, fingers stretched out and beckoned the man to come. "... then come."
Dral wasn’t the type to step down when faced with adversity. This young man wanted a piece of action, thought he was capable enough to stand his ground. Perhaps he didn’t know that it was foolish to battle a war bred mandalorian. Perhaps he was crazy. Whichever the case, Dral would grant him his wish. He lifted his modified verpine shatter gun and fired. The young man was faster than Dral would have foreseen and dodged. "You are fast, but it will take more than dodging and running to beat me."
Cole could see the truth in this. Even using the Force to enhance his sensors and reflexes the projectiles hurtling towards him were in some instances too fast for him to follow. He could see one in three or four, making deflecting them with his lightsaber almost impossible. Slaton was beginning to question the odds racked against him. Puffs of smoke littered the concrete in his wake as the bullets tore into the ground, a step away from catching him and getting steadily closer. The only thing that had saved Cole's skin, from being puncture numerous times ending with him being a bloody mess on the sidewalk, was the fact that for Cole's opponent, no matter how skilled he seemed to be, there was one element he couldn't defeat. Time. He was an old bastard, and his reflexes were lacking.
Dral found the young man skilled and agile, not at all what he had expected. He wondered for a split second how he would fare in a real battlefield, and instantly thought him to be worthy of confrontation. There was something to this human that made him somewhat better than the average human combatant. He had training and he had perception. He was even capable to dodge his weapon’s projectiles, even if barely, which was no easy feat. But there was still one fact against Dral’s opponent. No matter how fast and skilled he seemed to be, there was one element he lacked. Experience. He was a young punk, and didn’t fully understand battle yet.
Changing direction suddenly Cole used the Force springing him up into a jump, rolling through the air becoming as small as he could, the younger of the two battling foes reached beneath his jacket, pulling out a lightsaber, he landed close to Dral, an arms reach away, and launched his own attack ducking under another barrage of projectiles.
Dral saw that his opponent had turned the tide to his favor and pulled a lightsaber on him. So, this young man was either a Jedi, or had killed one. And despite Dral never having faced one before, he knew that they were capable of incredible feats, which was enough to explain how he had stood his ground so far. And their weapons were supposed to cut through virtually any material, let alone flesh. And even in his beskar’gam he wouldn’t stand a chance. He saw the muzzle of the lightsaber flicker and flash a bright light and tried to jump aside. It was only then that he saw that the weapon was faulty, but by then the young man had already taken a second one that was in impeccable working condition and used it to cut through his verpine shatter gun.
The Mandalorian looked at his weapon, now rendered useless and took a few steps back to gain defensive space. He safeguarded what was left of his weapon, so he could repair it later, and took a three bladed dagger. Sure, it wouldn’t work against a lightsaber, but so long as he wasn’t struck by the Jedi weapon, he could still cut the boy. "You made a mistake. Now I won’t play nice anymore," he warned Cole. He moved in closer, side stepping and using footwork to simulate a move to the left before heading to the right and slashed at the young man. He missed the cut, but delivered a prompt boot to his torso, sending him staggering back.
The man that Dral Ordo was really after was still as a statue, unsure whether he should try and make a run for it, or whether simply moving would cause them to take notice of him. In any case, if this young man could beat the bounty hunter, and this was indeed a possibility, then he would be free and safe for sure. He hoped he was that lucky.
In such close quarters Cole wasn't as a skilled as Dral, and it showed, his movements weren't fluid and relied heavily on instincts fortified by the Force. The lightsaber he held might as well be a lead weight for all the effect it was having. The fact his previous attack had failed frustrated Cole, adding an almost angry jerk to his movements. The man was just too experienced, too good. The three blades gleamed as it captured the light, flashing towards the ex-Jedi. Ducking he reach out grabbing the man's hand, stepping up onto Dral's knee Cole kicked downwards into his chest plate with all his force. Without the armor it would have ended the contest, shattered bones, causing uncountable damage to his internals. Pain shot up through Cole's foot and leg, most of the force he'd injected into the attack recoiling back.
Sailing up into the air, his head looked upwards glancing down towards his opponent, he was mildly satisfied to see was down on one knee at least winded by the attack. The human landed, a little more heavily than he'd wish, wincing despite his best efforts to suppress the pain in his right leg. His lightsaber was humming beside him.
The fight was somewhat of a standoff, with both of them using to their own advantage that which made them more lethal. The young man hadn't been able to successfully cut him with his lightsaber, but Ordo had missed with his verpine and hadn't been successful with his dagger either. But in a fight there was more to it than simple skill, more than sheer luck. Dral took a small bladed disk from his belt and quickly threw it towards Cole. It missed the mark by a few inches, however, and hit the wall directly behind him.
"Your eyes must be going old man, you missed!" Cole taunted, grinning.
"No, I didn't..." Dral replied. The disk exploded in a kinetic stun-like explosion, sending Cole down, winded for a while. Dral finally turned his attention to the man he was initially pursuing and saw him stagger back, his hand held out as if to tell the mandalorian to stop. "You prey upon the weak. Rape women, target children, steal from the elderly people. You are the worst kind of scum. You have no honor."
"N-No... Please... I can pay you! Whatever they paid you, I'll double it!" the man cried.
Dral simply shook his head. "This isn't about money," he told him before taking out a Velocity-7 dart shooter and firing one of his lethal Malkite themfar darts. He hit the man square in the chest, and the lethal nerve toxin worked instantaneously, killing him. Dral then turned his attention back to the young man, and approached him.
"You fight well. Better than most I've encountered. I am honored to have battled with you," he said, offering his hand to help Cole up.
"You would say that..." Cole muttered, taking the offered hand. "Seeing as how I'm the one on the ground. Didn't see that coming..." The Force had tingled, there wasn't any other way to describe it, before the explosion. Cole had never felt its like before. Had it been trying to warn him?
"Could have saved me the aches and pains, if you'd tell me about him..." He indicated the still twitching corpse on the sidewalk.
"I told you I was only here for him. Had you stepped aside we would not have faced each other," Dral replied. He was glad to see that the young man seemed to hold no grudges of their fighting. Many would not have been so graceful about it and would have gauged for vengeance. He was fighting material, a warrior. In a way, Dral was content that they had fought, otherwise he wouldn't have found someone worthy. "I am Dral Ordo. Sorry if I hurt you..." he told Cole. "I had never battled someone with lightsabers. I had heard about them, but never seen them up close. Impressive."
"You've obviously been very fortunate," Cole rolled his shoulders, feeling the muscles already beginning to tighten. They'd heal, and with the help of Force meditation it wouldn't take long. "I was still a Padawan Learner when I left the Jedi, my abilities aren't at what they should be nor are they at the level they will be. A Master would be far more dangerous an opponent. A Sith Lord doubly so."
"And yet many Jedi Masters have been killed in the past by common folk... These are well known tales of my people," Dral said. Yes, every mandalorian knew about the Jedi and how they were some of the few who could ever stand up against them. Dral himself had no quarrel with them, nor did he fully comprehend that anyone would want to kill a Jedi simply for the supposed glory that came with it. There was no glory in death, only in battle and in testing one's skill. "Perhaps you should consider not putting too much of yourself in the hands of this so-called Force."
"The same could be said about your armor and weapons. When you become used to a thing its difficult to let go..." Cole lifted his own hand in front of him. "Might as well tell me to stop using this hand, or any other limb. The Force aids me, but I understand and appreciate the warning..." Cole knew he still had much to learn, but also knew the path to understanding was going to be a long and hard one.
"The difference is I can still fight without using my weapons or my armor. Yes, they bring advantages, but they do not determine the only way I know how to battle," Dral argued. "What would you do if you could not use that hand? How would you battle if you became injured? A true combatant does not wither when faced with such adversities... How good are you with a blaster, or when dealing with explosive ordnance, or even unarmed? How do you hunt or how do you disappear when being hunted? These things I can teach you.
"Teach me?" Cole turned looking at the armored helmet. He could see his own reflection staring back at him. His face had smeared blood, caked dry. It was true. He didn't know of the things Dral spoke of. He'd not held a blaster for years, the sleek dark weapons were as alien to him as a lightsaber would be to Dral, and though he could fight unarmed he was still a novice.
Dral knew that him being a mandalorian he could pass on his knowledge to anyone he saw fit. That was partly how mandalorians now passed on their knowledge and grew in numbers. It wasn't so much about true bloodline lineage, it was more on taking those who proved themselves and teaching them. The opportunity to teach someone with Jedi training would not be seen lightly by some back home, but Dral did not care. For all he knew he was the last Taung, the true mandalorians, so he would make his own path.
"Think about it... For all that you missed in your training to become a Jedi, there were other things left behind. Should you learn them also, would that not make you a better prepared warrior?" Dral asked simply.
Cole could see this. Meeting this man was the will of the Force, he knew this, was he meant to follow him? Learn his ways, to not solely rely on the Force? From joining the Jedi, and then the Sith, he had always felt apart from them, different, neither Jedi nor Sith... he so wanted to belong. Perhaps this was his chance. Perhaps later even starting his own order? "I would be honored." Cole bowed low at the mandalorian. "To learn your ways."
“Fire & Ice”
By: Sieana Wren - Smuggler
Race Soltair - Smuggler
Location: Yallder District, New Pluoton
Date: Rheudis 26, 5 ABY
***
Sieana opened her eyes groggily as she awoke, rolling onto her side she moaned tiredly as she snuggled deeper into the blankets for warmth, eyes slowly drifting back shut as she did. Her blue eyes fluttered open as she felt a strong, muscled arm snake around her waist, pulling her close. Sieana shivered as the owner of the arm nuzzled her neck and whispered softly, “Wren…”
She’d know that voice anywhere, Race. Despite the warmth shared now between them, Sieana couldn’t help but feel an icy hand clench her heart. Up until last night they were partners, business associates, but what about now? Relationships were few and far between for Sieana, especially when it came to love, and what potential prospects there were seemed to be looking for a purely physical relationship, not a deeply emotional one, especially with her no less.
A whirlwind of questions buzzed through Sieana’s mind as she lay in Race’s arms, her thoughts turning distant. Had last night been a mistake? Had she been wrong to open her heart to Race? How did he view her now?
How did things like this happen?
One moment he is pulled into a gunfight by a random woman. Then he is partnered with her through circumstance. That alone was a rocky path. Wren was arrogant, stubborn and naive about many things. Then as she moved away from being a hurt vector to a tolerable partner, things go into lightspeed.
Still, even if she wished to pull back on the throttle, it had been a Hell of a night. No telling the cause of it. Maybe too much stress from everything that had happened. Maybe that fine line between love and anger got blurred. He didn't know. He would just see how it played out. In the meantime he was comfortable where he was now.
Sieana’s thumb softly traced Race’s forearm as he held her, sleeping soundly. A certain part of her couldn’t help but laugh at what her father would think of her now; an Imperialist’s daughter turned Rebellion member and here she was lying in the arms of a former Imperial Naval officer. Though he once had sworn allegiance to the Empire, Race was now for all intents and purposes a drifter to her knowledge, much like herself.
You sure can pick em Sieana. She mused to herself silently.
Softly, Sieana nuzzled Race’s neck, before then proceeding to climb carefully out of bed, emitting a soft gasp she felt Race’s arms wind snugly around her slender form, halting her exit.
"Where are you going?"
“Nature calls.”
"Don't be gone long, Wren," said Race quietly.
“I won’t be long, though whether or not I leave you any hot water after I shower is another story.” She remarked as she gave him a sly grin, before she then tugged the bed sheet free from the bed. Sieana wrapped the sheet around her form and slipped away from Race’s welcome embrace and retreated to the bathroom.
***
Later that morning after they had both cleaned up and redressed, Race made breakfast out of whatever he had available on his ship. A lot of it was culled from rations from his Imperial days. He often traded for crates of Imperial rations to keep a store of them on hand. One way or another they would help you through a drought.
As a smuggler he had seen a few of those. Those blasted Imperial blockades.
As he prepared the food, Race noticed that Wren was unusually quiet. She was also shooting him small glances when she thought he was not looking. Her expression betrayed a heavily introspective line of thought. With her glances at him, he wondered if she was lost as to where they were now as far as a relationship.
He was wondering that himself, in a way. Though he figured that things happened in life. You just have to see where it leads sometimes. Putting their food on some crude dishes he had fashioned in his spare time, he walked over to the small galley table and set them down. Wren looked away from his gaze briefly before attempting a smile.
Race shook his head. "At ease, Rebel."
Sieana’s eyes narrowed as she speared herself a mouthful of food, “At the very least you could quit calling me Wren, I have a first name spacer.”
Race looked up from his food and eyed her curiously. "Hmm?"
“If you’d rather this be just a connect-disconnect, I’ll live with it.” She replied, idly picking at her food as she did.
"Is that how you feel it should be?" Asked Race quietly as he sipped at his water.
“What do you mean how it should be? Must you treat this like some kriffing technical issue!?” Sieana bit back, standing up from the table.
"Don't you walk off, Sieana!" shouted Race, breaking his normally quiet demeanor.
Sieana spun on her heel as she stared up at Race, “Oh it’s Sieana now huh? You didn’t seem much like the personal type last I checked, not like anyone would want any kind of personal relationship with me, apparently all I’m good for is tooling around ships and a quick screw.”
Race looked at Sieana as if he had been stabbed. His anger rapidly resurfaced however. If he was that kind of man, he would have slapped her teeth out of her head. Instead, he could not seem to find words to adequately convey how deeply her words angered him. His breakfast went into the sink at a more than decent velocity. He could not even look at her.
"Get out," he started, his gravelly tone quiet, but even darker with his anger. "Be glad that I did not kill you where you stood for that venom you spoke. Pack your trash and get out."
“And to think I actually felt something for you, you couldn’t even work up the kriffing nerve till now to address me by my first name!! Would it have been that difficult, too much to ask for? What else do you want of me?!” Turning on her heel, Sieana choked back a sob as she walked off in the direction of her bunk to gather her things, her shoulders slumped forward.
Race sighed heavily as he stared down at the sink. He had not thought about her name until now. Most of his life was spent between the Imperial Navy and smuggling. In both ways of life, last names, or even no names, were used. It had never even occurred to him that using her first name was a big issue. Maybe that contributed to her thinking.
Turning, he walked to the bunk area and turned Wren around to face him, taking a slap to the face from her. He looked at her calmly. "I am sorry if I insulted you," he started. "You are not a throw-away to me."
Heaving a heavy sigh, Sieana looked up at Race, her cheeks stained with tears. “I’ve been burned in the past Race, plenty of times I’d find myself in what I thought might be meaningful relationships, the truth is, most of em were just looking for a fix, and I didn’t find love, all I found was meaningless lust, it felt so cold, so empty. I don’t want to have go through that no more I can’t, especially not with you, because…I…”
Sieana’s tongue felt thick as she fought to find her words, but she forced herself to push on. “…I love you.” Her heart felt like stone, but there she had said it and it was out in the open now, what else could she risk losing?
"So that's what the soup meant," said Race after a few seconds.
Sieana stared at Race dumbfounded, “What?” She couldn’t find words to his response, and simply stood there in shock, “I just poured my heart out to you and…and…” Turning Sieana rested her head against the wall, laughing humorlessly. “I’m such a kriffing fool.” She remarked, her tears starting to return.
"No," said Race, walking up to her and putting his hands on her hips. "I'm just...I've never heard those words. Not spoken honestly anyway. The oddest thing of it all is, I feel the same way. I love you too."
Sieana looked up; gazing into Race’s eyes as he held her, she saw no dishonesty there, only truth. Perhaps there was more to him then the whole tough guy military persona he threw on.
“You know I can’t be easy, Hell I’m real foulmouthed, ill-tempered…” She prattled on.
"And you talk a lot," said Race, smiling slightly. "Clearly there are issues we will need to resolve over time. For now, why don't we salvage breakfast."
Sieana blushed, returning Race’s smile. “I never thought I’d say this, but I think I’m starting to get used to Imperial rations,” She replied as she nuzzled his nose, “Never thought I’d be dating a former Imperial Naval officer either for that matter.”