Athan's door opened. Athan's door was not supposed to open. The cold steel of his blaster reassured him somewhat, but the half-dozen other Ryn sharing the room negated that sense of security.

Half-risen from his bed, he breathed a sigh of relief, the silhouette finally registering in his semiconscious mind. He smiled up at the human: “Kerrick Arkanus.”

“Hello, Athan.” Kerrick seemed a little befuddled as the room's lights slowly powered up, revealing the other Ryn in the room.

“I'm a Ryn, Kerrick. A name plate from Ambassador Shi doesn't change that.”

Kerrick's eyes widened, and he looked back to Athan. “Hey, I didn't mean to―”

“Relax, relax. This is my wife, Lyra, and our two children. That's her brother, Kash, his wife, and their youngest. This is how we live, Kerrick.” He paused for a second, casting the human a reassuring look. “So, what's so important you felt the need to override the lock on my quarters?” He smiled for further reassurance, but the human still seemed embarrassed.

“There's something you need to see. Something I need to show you.”

Five minutes later, the two were on their way to one of the massive vessel's conference rooms, Athan leading the way to ensure they would miss as many Squib work teams as possible. “Heh, you'd think they'd give you your own quarters, what with you being an ambassador and all.”

Athan smiled, scratching his head. “In theory, it's just temporary. Kash figured he'd have a better chance of picking up a crew assignment if he was already onboard, and like I said before: this is how we live.”

There was a long moment of silence in which Kerrick nodded foolishly as he searched for something with which to change topic. “So, you guys picked out a name yet?”

Athan nodded, pointing to a side corridor ahead. “Lungo Drom: the Long Road.”

Kerrick nodded. “It's about time your people had themselves a proper capital, eh?”

Athan smiled, huffing at the thought. “I hear Smarts already has plans for Lifebloom. I'm sure the Mercantate will be glad to have his ship back. So, Kerrick: what's this all about?”

Kerrick shook his head, grinning mischievously. “You'll have to see it to believe it.”

The two entered a turbolift, moments away from their destination. “She's somethin', huh? The ship, I mean.”

Athan chuckled, patting the lift's wall lightly. “Just when you think you've got these Squib figured out. . .”

“They give you a Lucrehulk, no strings attached.”

“She's nowhere near finished, but she's still an amazing ship. The Council of Elders has already moved their meetings here.” The lift stopped and the two entered the corridor beyond. “Where to?”

Kerrick pointed straight ahead. “Room fifteen.”

At the end of the hall, Kerrick opened the door to the conference room, ushering Athan in. As the Ryn stepped into the large room, a pair of figures caught his eye. Someone didn't belong here. “What's going on here?”

The Squib named Juri tapped his datapad on the table excitedly, jumping to his feet at the sight of Athan. “We did it, Boss. We did, you bet!”

“Juri, talk to me,” He said sternly, forcing the Squib to meet his gaze in an attempt to calm the little rodent down. “What's going on?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Kerrick asked, chuckling. “The Squibs seem to have bought us a new friend.”

“Yep, yep, you bet!” Juri exclaimed. “We got 'em here for ya, Athan! There they are, see?”

The long-faced, ghoulish Pau'an leaned forward slightly, interlacing his long fingers as his mouth parted, revealing jagged teeth. Sucking in a long breath, he took advantage of the silence that his demeanor evoked: “I contacted the Squib through our mutual trade partners in the Mestra Asteroid belt. They were gracious enough to assemble this meeting for us.”

Athan took a moment to consider the ghastly being's words. “What did it cost you?” He asked finally.

“The Clone Wars debris field,” Juri piped up, smiling.

The Pau'an took another deep breath, the chilling expression and ghostly sound instantly dissolving Juri's excitement. “These vultures have been pecking at the corpses of the fallen for decades. Perhaps we can finally resolve this misunderstanding.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny the historical presence of Squib salvage operations in the Utapau System,” Juri countered indignantly, reciting every word of the official line with precision.

Athan looked to Kerrick, disappointment evident on his face. “You woke me up to settle a salvage dispute?”

Kerrick walked partway around the table and took a seat, smiling up at the Ryn. “You're gonna love this.”

“The Squib are of no concern to me,” The Pau'an said gravely, reacquiring the room's attention.

“Really?” Juri squeaked, his excitement getting the best of him yet again.

“I'm here for something else,” The guest continued, ignoring the disruptive rodent.

Sighing, Athan took a couple steps forward and took the nearest seat, trying to look interested in the hopes of moving this along. After a few seconds of staring blankly at the alien, he finally asked: “And that is?”

Another sucking breath, another chilling visual. “How many of your kind serve under the yoke of slavery?”

Athan's eyes widened in shock, and both the false and genuine expressions of exhaustion faded from the Ryn's demeanor.

“Ten percent of mine,” The Pau'an offered. “Including my former employer and instructor, Tion Medon.” The Pau'an rose to his feet, for the first time revealing the head of the ornate staff he held in one hand. “I am Port Administrator Lampay Fay, head of the Utapauan Committee, and I want my leader back.”

The usual disconcerting drawl of the Pau'an had shifted to something more explicitly sinister, and Athan found himself holding his breath as Lampay Fay's black eyes bore down on him.

An unusual sound drew Athan's eyes toward the Kerrick, where he saw a pair of black-gloved hands grasped tightly around one another, the stretched leather emitting an uncomfortable squeaking sound. “It's payback time.”





Pau City, Utapau, two weeks later

The large, circular room had been constructed shortly after the fall of the Galactic Empire, when the Pau'an people retook their rightful place as the rulers and stewards of Utapau. The hardships of the past have taught the people of Utapau much, and now more than ever they have learned to set aside their regional differences and come together as one people. The Utapauan Committee has become the central authority of this world's localized city governments, and now stands as an unquestioned representative of both the Utai and Pau'an species.

But today, the Committee Chamber would serve a function beyond the governing of a world or the resolution of some inter-city crisis. Today, the fate of the silenced and unseen would be defended. Today, an ancient injustice would be opposed.

Of the assembled races and governments, a few were of special import. The Ryn, obviously, who had been elevated to a state of legitimacy by the Cooperative of Systems, would serve as an unofficial sort of moderators. The Kadri'Ra, a dragon-like species of philosophers and scholars who suffered intensely under the Galactic Empire's doctrine of Human High Culture, had arrived at the head of a consortium of lesser-known former- and continuing- slave species. Some uncertainty had been raised when a group of Ugnaughts arrived, as they held no official authority due to the total dismemberment of the Ugnaught species' government, though the species itself had an undeniable right to be represented; the unofficial delegation was permitted a seat after a simple voiced vote.

It was only after the Ugnaughts had been guaranteed a seat that one of the smallest delegations to arrive made itself known. The trio of escaped Chev slaves presented themselves, sending a shock of shame through all Cooperative parties present. The Chev homeworld of Vinsoth was a close neighbor of Varn, and its dominant Chevin species had practiced open slavery for thousands of years. The arrival of the Chev undoubtedly instilled some measure of distrust toward the Cooperative elements present, but the Ryn understood what their arrival truly revealed: this task would not be so easy as signing a piece of paper or recording some pledge; action would have to be taken, and that action may lead to undesired consequences. The meeting had not even begun, and already the situation had become gravely serious.

A curious arrival were the Cragmoloids, native of the former Onyxian Commonwealth world Ankus. The present delegation was made up of refugees who had relocated to Amorris, but their concern was for those they left behind. The Empire had enslaved their world once before, and official records still listed them as a slave species.

A special invitation had been extended to the Wookiees in an attempt to assure the Contegorian Confederation that the Cooperative, at least, harbored no ill will concerning the recent defection of the Coalition-aligned race to the Confederation. Long-time and staunch opponents of slavery, there remained a number of Wookiee slaves throughout the galaxy. Though difficult to accomplish, a broken Wookiee makes for a fine slave, a fact only increased by the species' long life span. The fact that they had accepted the invitation reaffirmed that this truth had not been lost on the Wookiee people.

Athan hoped it meant something more.

There were others, of course. Victims of the Empire's radical pro-human agenda, unfortunate backwaters exploited by neighbors; the list went on and on. The fact that so many had been assembled in such a short period of time gave testament to the Ryn's growing influence in the Rim, as well as the Pau'an's recovering status as honest, respectable diplomats.

As the assembly sat, stood, lay, hung, and took up whatever general posture of comfort required by their respective species, the chamber doors were closed and the international meeting was officially convened. As the dull thud of the doors began to fade, the general chatter died down, and all eyes found themselves looking toward the Ryn and Pau'an, orchestrators of this conference and its presumptive leaders.

Lampay Fay gestured broadly to Athan, and the Ryn stood slowly, trying to take in all of the faces that stared back at him. He coughed lightly, a sound that was picked up and amplified across the entire chamber, eliciting looks of scrutiny and disappointment from some of the more official-looking delegations. He took a final deep breath, and began:

“I am Ambassador Athan, Clan Sahalan, of the Ryn Nation, Cooperative of Systems, and Galactic Coalition of Planets . . .

“But I stand before you as none of those people, with none of those titles. I am here because I share blood with one of the most exploited races in galactic history. I am Ryn. I am less than all of you . . .

“And my status does not come from some edict of Palpatine or from the greed of some neighbor race, or cruelty of some brother species.” Athan couldn't help but look to the trio of Chev who had managed to seat themselves in the darkest corner of the round chamber. “I am what I am because no one chose to say otherwise.” In that moment he read the recognition on so many faces, saw their shared pain and felt their unfortunate commonality. “So who will speak for us? Who will stand with us? Who will defend us, uphold us, defy the powers of the galaxy and forces of nature's will for us? Who, if not we? We, the free souls of the galaxy's enslaved peoples. We, the liberated. We, the only few who can truly know and act. We who have lived in darkness, have shouldered the yoke of bondage, have suffered the whip of a vengeful master . . .

“It is the right of all sapient beings and the responsibility of all free souls to ensure that the countless billions of our kinds are made to be masters of their own fates. But we alone understand, and so we must act, even if we must act alone.

“It is for this that you have been called here. Let us, kindred spirits, stand together, that some day we may all be free, and on that day our freedom may be ensured for all time.”

Athan took a deep breath, steadying himself, and looked to Lampay Fay, who nodded in confirmation of the Ryn's unasked question. “I yield the floor to Lampay Fay, Port Administrator of Pau City and head of the Utapauan Committee.”

The imposing Pau'an rose to his feet, taking in the assembly with one sweeping motion of his head. “I do not know the reason for each of you to have come. I do not know what you expect. But you are here, and so you must have cause and need. It is my intent to spend these next days, weeks, and months in the assembly of an explicit, expansive, and systematic declaration of our joint intent, whatever we may find that intent to be.”

The Port Administrator paused for several seconds, doing nothing more than being scary. “I am no longer content to sit and wait for others to undo the harm that has been done to my people. We must reach a joint agreement, or none of us will see those we have lost again, none of us will escape the shadow of fear. There is no help coming; we must do this ourselves.”

“We must settle this here and now, Chieftain Iemus; as a representative official of the Galactic Coalition, you are bound by duty to oppose any militant action or suggestion of such action against Coalition-recognized, legitimate galactic governments. We did not call this conference to plot military action against the Galactic Empire, or any other legitimate nation.” Athan was seething. The Cragmoloid chieftain had just single-handedly put the entire conference in jeopardy. As members of the Coalition and a supported refugee population of the Cooperative, the Cragmoloids were supposed to be supporting Athan and the Ryn delegation in their efforts to maintain civility and moderation, not siding with some back-room band of militants hellbent on using this endeavor as an excuse to declare open war on the Empire.

Athan eased back into his seat, trying to calm himself. “We are here for the cause of justice, not the cry of vengeance. There are lines we must take care to preserve. There are places we must not go, and actions we must not resort to. We cannot afford to become those whom we despise.”

“There are alternatives to militancy, when dealing with true governments,” Lampay Fay added calmly, giving Athan a much-needed break from all of the attention.

“You would have us fangless? De-clawed and submissive?” The unusually large Trunsk was obviously working himself into some kind of rage, and Athan stifled a crooked smile as the right question was finally asked.

A large pair of doors opened at the side of the conference room, and Athan gestured broadly as the sound of their cloister being broken echoed through the chamber. A human man of about forty years appeared in the doorway, clean shaven with shoulders squared, wearing what appeared to be the white uniform of an Imperial Grand Admiral, his hands clenched into fists within their black leather gloves. He walked with measured military steps, eyes focused on some indistinct point ahead, face impassive.

He turned at the inner edge of the circular gathering, walking down the front row of delegates until he reached Athan and the Port Administrator. Finally turning toward the center of the conference room, the man grasped his hands behind his back and waited for a moment of silence to fall. “I am Marshal Kerrick Arkanus, commander of the Rimward Defense Initiative. I come that we may forge the righteous sword of the Rim.”

“What is the meaning of this!” The same Trunsk demanded, his anger growing with the introduction of yet another unexpected turn of events.

“We will listen,” The Kadri'Ra demanded in its earth-shaking voice, and the room fell silent before the weight of its first public words since the conference began. Even the enraged Trunsk refrained from further comment, though he huffed disapprovingly as he crossed his arms in frustration.

Kerrick continued in his measured tone, staring into infinity, immune to the sea of beings gathered around. “Some time ago the Rimward planet Gall joined the Galactic Coalition under the condition that it sponsor an international paramilitary force tasked with the comprehensive security of its member worlds and their interlinking hyperspace routes.”

“I have heard nothing of this,” a rather old Jenet remarked, though he remained considerably more composed than most of the previous speakers.

“Then your people have not been listening,” Kerrick responded coldly, maintaining his focus on the center of the room. “Various elements of the Galactic Coalition have contributed resources to this Initiative, but commitments from independent local governments has been . . . less substantial than our efforts require.”

Lampay Fay stood and motioned for Kerrick to take a seat. “I believe individual governments may be hesitant to join an organization currently so dominated by Coalition resources and support, because such action may be perceived by outsiders as an alliance with the Coalition, instead of an alliance between mutually free planets. Only support from a consortium of worlds with numbers as substantial as those represented here will sufficiently offset the Coalition's invested resources and set the stage for future growth.”

“Are you yourself not a high-ranking member of the Coalition military?” The same Jenet asked, perhaps a little too accusingly.

Kerrick did not direct his attention to the alien, but after a momentary pause he answered with a measured degree of irritation. “I have been . . . phased out, in accordance with a strategy more in keeping with the Cooperative's political motivations. While I proudly and openly maintain membership in the Cooperative Workers' Party, my duties here are as a free citizen of the Rim. My love for the Coalition―and the Workers' Party, for that matter―extends only as far as its commitment to my ends: the success of this Initiative.”

The Trunsk snarled, slamming his fists on the table. “We have more pressing matters than trade routes and anti-piracy actions! Our sons and daughters are wasting away on dungeon ships and in slave camps! Drag this human away and give me something―”

“I am here for your 'more pressing matters',” Kerrick responded, still seated, just managing to maintain his composure and add the hint of a warning to his tone. “I am here to offer you my strength, in exchange for yours. Let us stand together, as allies. Not in politics, not in commerce, not in war; but in the dissolution of those universal illegalities upon which we all can meet and agree. Let us set the captives free, punish the wicked, defend the helpless, uphold the just, and defy the tides of chaos which seek to feed the dark and lawless depths of the Rim.”

The room rumbled with the general murmuring of people not quite sure how to respond, but it again fell silent when the Kadri'Ra spoke. “What would you have us do?”

“I ask for the commitment of resources―both physical and intellectual―not to the Galactic Coalition, or the Cooperative of Systems, or the Ryn Nation; but to the worlds and peoples who choose to comprise this Initiative, for the cause of securing and preserving the freedom and safety of its peoples. The Initiative demands nothing more than a mutual agreement to oppose slavery and resist piracy on, around, and between member worlds; and a public allocation of resources toward the achievement of those ends.

“We are and shall remain forever an independent organization, comprised of and answerable to free nations of the Rim, who share in our struggle and support our endeavors. This is my proposal to you: an international and military solution to the lawlessness which pervades the Rim. That is the breadth and width of our ambition and action: lawlessness within the Rim. If you take issue with the Galactic Empire or other such legitimate governments and their pro-slavery policies, you must find an alternate avenue through which to address those issues. The Rimward Defense Initiative is and will remain an organization endorsed by member worlds of the Galactic Coalition of Planets, and as such cannot take action against or within nations recognized by its members, but opposed to this organization. Wars are fought between nations. We will fight against lawlessness.”

Kerrick Arkanus had changed. Perhaps he had found a purpose that he knew would not fail him. Perhaps he had achieved some heightened level of enlightenment. Perhaps he was just a very good actor. Whatever the case may be, Kerrick Arkanus had cast aside the rogue swagger and time-worn nerf hide jacket of his past, and had taken up the shining, spotless visage of a man with purpose, a man tasked with the salvation of the Rim.

Conflict is the natural result of peoples who are not the same. There are many ways to resolve conflict, but few of them remain peaceful. Fortunately, these people had no interest in peacefulness. This conflict had been resolved, and the solution was quite simple: the acknowledgment of greater conflict. Now the pieces were falling into place to counter that grave threat that loomed over them all.

And so The Charter for the Mutual Defense of the Outer Rims was drawn and signed―not by all, to be sure; but by many. Some thirty four species representing twenty seven worlds in various stages of independence signed themselves into the Rimward Defense Initiative, joining the few Coalition worlds that had already made a similar declaration of allegiance to the Initiative's goals.

Much would be decided in the weeks and months to come, but Kerrick Arkanus―to whom strategic and logistical command of all Coalition resources allocated to the RDI had been given―was expected to be appointed commander of the Initiative's militant branch, while the Pau'an had already received word from the Kadri'Ra of efforts to form a more formal, diplomatic branch as a stepping stone to opening more formal relations with the legitimate hostile governments the Charter did not permit military action against.

While the combined might of the Galactic Coalition and Contegorian Confederation forged through the limitless black of the Outer Rim, blazing the trail that would soon become the long-dremt-for Road to Everywhere, this little band of outdated and underclassed starships from all the corners of the galaxy would set to work making the impossible a reality. It would make the Rim safe for freedom.

“Will it work?” Lampay Fay asked in his drawling tone.

“The Rim has always dwelt under the bright shadow of the Core,” Athan answered. “Maybe giving it something of its own can stop history from repeating itself. Something has to change, or everything will stay the same.”

The Port Administrator sucked in another long breath, and Athan could sense the hesitation in the Pau'an's mannerisms. “I mean to ask you . . . Kerrick Arkanus . . . is he . . .”

“Kerrick Arkanus would burn himself to dust keeping his word, so long as we would do the same.”

“But he is so . . . inappropriate, for such a grave position. For all that's holy, he's running around in Warlord Zsinj's uniform!”

Athan smiled a crooked smile. “I am Ryn. I am the voice of Chief Ambassador Traan Shi, servant and representative of the Cooperative of Systems, a Togruta. I can imagine no more inappropriate appointment. Yet here I am, and look at what great things I have helped do, and look at how inappropriate they are. There is justice, there is injustice . . . and then there is the gray haze of politics, culture, and preconception that we allow to make wrongs seem so right, and true justice seem so trivial. Our ends are just; we must take care to ensure our means remain equally just; but I will not become a false prophet of truth in some quest to remain appropriate . . .”

The Ryn chuckled. “Oh, and it's a replica of Warlor Zsinj's uniform.”

Lampay Fay turned and began walking around the long table better suited for a meeting of two parties, instead of two individuals. “There is another matter,” He said, affirming neither fear nor confidence concerning Kerrick Arkanus, but clearly leaving the issue behind. “We need to determine an acceptable meeting place for the Committee. The Initiative requires an official center of governance.”

“I was under the impression the Utapaun Committee had offered the Chamber for continued use.”

Lampay Fay nodded, taking up an arbitrary seat. “It has; however, such an arrangement would be . . .” He smiled, revealing jagged teeth, “inappropriate―in a more substantial meaning of the word.”

Following the Port Administrator's lead, Athan pulled the nearest chair out at an angle, facing the Pau'an though not directly across from him. “How so?”

“It would seem that Utapau does not wish to remain neutral in galactic affairs much longer. Hosting the Committee for the Mutual Defense of the Outer Rims would not be in keeping with the Initiative's nature.”

Athan leaned forward, resting one arm on the table. “Port Administrator, is there something you've been hiding from me?”

“You and I have been been very busy these past weeks, and while we have been occupying the Committee Chamber . . . the Utapaun Committee has been forced to convene elsewhere.”

“I better like this, Port Administrator.”

Port Administrator Lampay Fay sat up straight, taking on a rather matter-of-fact demeanor. “Your Council of Elders has negotiated the admission of Utapau into the Cooperative of Systems. It would seem Lungo Drom is the perfect setting for signing interplanetary treaties.”

Athan sat back, studying the Pau'an for any signs of misdirection. “Don't take this the wrong way, Port Administrator, but it seems to me that Utapau was more valuable to the Coalition as an independent planet hosting the Initiative's Committee than it could be as a member world.”

Lampay Fay let out a long laugh, his pointed teeth appearing and then vanishing again and again behind his lower lip. “You may need to brush up on Utapau's history, Ambassador. Feethan Ottraw Scalable Assemblies saw fit to deploy one of its factories here, in Pau City, during the CIS's brief occupation of the planet. We did not like this. Some years later, we took advantage of our recovering status and the brief dominance of the New Republic to force substantial reparations upon Feethan Ottraw for its past crimes against the citizens of an unlawfully occupied Utapau. Suffice it to say: Feethan Ottraw Scalable Assemblies' headquarters is now located here, in Pau City, as a subdivision of the Pau'an owned and managed Buuper Torsckil Abbey Devices.” The Port Administrator leaned forward, whispering in what must have been a more intentionally sinister tone. “We are a long-lived people, Ambassador, and we do not forget those who have wronged us. In the end, everyone pays the debts they owe.”

Athan just smiled. “Well then, I'm glad you're on our side now. And I'll make sure to pass the sentiment on to the Squib next time one of them asks me about your debris field.”

Lampay Fay shook his head slightly. “We welcome friends and allies to the bounty that is Utapau. Much will change now.”





“We are not tame. We are not cordial. We are not dignified and cultured. We are the Free Souls of the Rim; our names are our own. Our fates will be written by our hands, spoken into being by our tongues, forged by the unbroken resolve of our will. We are heirs of the Rim, not complacent and subdued inhabitants of the Core. They cannot understand our struggle; they cannot share in our suffering. They would not stoop to call us equals.

“So we will let them bask in the glory of their own greatness; but here in our Rim we will craft a fate after our own image, after our own likeness, and here in this Rim we will exalt the savage, uncultured, inappropriate methods given to such 'inferior' beings as ourselves. Let the spires of Coruscant shimmer in the brilliance of refracted sunlight cast upon a horizon of artifice. Here in the Rim, in our Rim, we will stand upon the scorched earth of our homelands, beneath the burning skies of our domain, along the bloodstained streets of our once-lost cities, and we will craft for ourselves a fate―not of greatness . . . but of endurance.

“We, whose birthright is this Rim―this savage, lawless, exploited Rim―will never dwell beneath the brilliance of a Coruscant night. But we heirs of the Rim do not dream such hollow dreams. We do not need the Core to tell us what is and is not; what should and should not; what can and can not. This is our Rim; the time has come that we acknowledge such truth, that we embrace such a happy burden.

“We are not tame. We are not cordial. We are not dignified and cultured. We do not erect great halls to kings or towering monuments to past glory. And we do not require such semantic things.”

“But we are not lawless, and we assemble now as a testament to that truth. We hold ourselves subject to law and reason; we make oath and declare our service to those pillars of true justice. We are heirs of the Rim; we are not tame, but we choose to make ourselves subject to greater truth . . .

“So now we must embark upon the greatest of quests. We few who know the truth, who have been set free. This is our Rim. This is our time. This is our task. This . . . is our destiny. We embark, to lead captivity captive; to make our home a place worthy of its people.”

“Let the Age of Law and Reason dawn upon this, our scorched and shattered Rim!” The cold, harsh shell had broken. The lifeless white suit and soulless black gloves had come alive with passion. The solid and upright poise had been consumed by a single moment of absolute conviction.

The men and women who comprised the militant arm of the Rimward Defense Initiative lifted up their cries of assent as that last, shouted declaration weighed upon their hearts. Kerrick Arkanus―a man of the people, a true Son of the Rim―would lead them all to the gritty, unkempt freedom that belongs to those worlds that do not dwell in the Circle of Light at the galaxy's core. Freedom was coming to the Rim, by the hands of the oppressed.