The Galactic Coalition
...it will rise again. No matter how many times it sets, the sun will rise, and we can choose to greet it or we can hide away in the darkness and wait for it to go away.
“For too long now have we retreated into ourselves - and I most of all have failed you in this regard. We can’t run from who we are, regardless of prophecy or politics or fear or death. No matter the cost to ourselves, or even the cost to our people, we can no more give up the fight for justice and freedom than we can regain what we’ve lost already. We are committed, heart, body, and soul, to the liberation of this galaxy from the forces of evil, no matter what form they take and what mask they wear.
“So the time has come for the Azguardians to wake from our lethargy and rediscover ourselves and the galaxy. I will go forwards and meet the people, and see to it that the people meet each other once more, so that we can all go forward together with both eyes open. We can’t afford to lie to ourselves or to our brothers and sisters - we need to be honest and true, even in the bad times. Especially in the bad times, and these are the worst we’ve seen.
“We will return to the galaxy, we will find our friends and allies and remind them of our alliances. We will put the fear of our wrath in the heart of villains and Imperialists, we will make war against evil and shield the righteous. We will rebuild our grand society, restore our prosperity, and bring hope to our disillusioned.
“Here, in this sacred place, amidst the bones of our blood brothers and sisters I swear this oath to you - that I will not fail you again. By every ounce of strength in my body, by every drop of sweat on my brow, I will labour to bring us together again and give us back our dreams. Will you fight with me once more?”
The fleet was mobilizing to answer the threat of the aliens attacking Yaga Minor, the onset of suicide bombings within the Imperial Occupation Zone and the threat of the Black Dragon Empire...
Never, in recent years, had so much men and materials been moved across the galactic board with the singular thought of destruction in mind.
And it was through this cosmic sea that they traveled...
*
Fregrad, once a Captain in the Mon Calamari Republic Navy (Looking to the Stars), collapsed against the wall of his cell knowing that his time was up.
Each year, when he thought the Empire could sink no further into depravity they went and proved him wrong. From Theren Gevel to Bhindi Drayson, the machinations of ill intent were dreamt, manufactured and shipped out year after year with no end in sight. An Imperial little shop of horrors that operated every day, at every hour.
He had fought in as limited an action as he could within the confines of New Reef Town, finally finding a way into the facilities only to find himself captured and incarcerated.
The problem was that activity had, over the years, died down as the powers that be within the Imperial hierarchy duplicated and moved the cloning processes, spreading them across several worlds.
The cost of shipping materials too and from their world was just too much for too little return. Secrecy was no longer a requirement and with no patents and processes sacred to the Imperial High Command, what little advantage the tiny world once had was diminished, crushed and used up..
And still the iron jackboot of the New Order pressed against their necks.
In the beginning, he had been so fired up with righteous anger and he had found many sympathizers in the ranks but as the months and years passed, that fire began to flicker and fade..
Too many captured...
Too many executed...
Too few returns and to what end?
Liberation?
He had felt his heart fired up and his actions justified when the rumor the attack against Corellia had found it's way to his ears. However, soon after that same heart was beaten to a pulp when they finally learned of the outcome of not only that conflict but of the war.
So many dead...
And for what?
Were they even a cause anymore?
Were they even an inspiration against tyranny?
Were they even a memory to anyone anymore?
And now?
Now he was to be executed. The last...
*
Even with an alien fleet overhead, apparently pummeling the defending ships and winning, the bureaucracy of the New Order moved ever forward.
Executions would be carried out in an efficient manner and on time!
The military platform was not pretty but it was functional. His cell being under water would have played havoc with anyone who would have tried to rescue him ...were there anyone else alive to even remember to rescue him ... anyone alive who could still even gave a damn to rescue him.
He walked up the rusty steps and onto the landing platform only to be escorted to an edge. Evidently, his executioners wanted his dead body to fall into the ocean rather than mess with clean-up and disposal.
Fish food rather than incinerator meat.
It was lazy but it also made sense.
The salt water stung his eyes as they tried to adjust to the rather atypically bright day. He was so used to the overcast, stormy view that for a moment, the bright and sunny scene reminded him of Mon Calamari.
Then he turned to the five trooper firing squad opposite him and the memory of happier times faded.
The officer was a bored glutton and the squad was composed of clone rejects who took pride in their lack of quality or ability. Took pride in their lack of ambition and so the other clones who had remained wisened up and stayed clear of them.
Fregrad did not blame them for the Execution Squad was quite mad.
He just wished he could have promised those he talked too a way to obtain the 'good life' that he described as having once lived. The 'free life'. The 'happy life'.
A life where anything was possible and dreams could come true.
Not the duracrete and steel dreams of Imperial domination. Of continuous soldiering year after year until death or obsolescence claimed them.
He sighed as the officer called out for the Squad to get into a straight line. Not that they bothered...
The execution was, after all, just a random clearing of space in the prison cells even as a battle raged overhead.
There were rumors of an alien attack on Yaga Minor but details were very sketchy.
Fregrad closed his eyes and waited patiently.
So this is how it ends..
"Ready!"
I'm sorry...
"AIM!"
I wish....
And the former Captain cringed for the expected shots to strike his body.
When they did not come, one of his eyes opened and he saw the officer and the squad staring up at the shadow of the largest, strangest looking ship they had ever seen.
Fregrad wondered how much the Imperials made these alien attackers pay to break their lines when another ship appeared..
Then another...
And another...
Apparently, not much.
Scores of fighters were suddenly visible coming up from behind Fregrad and the squad and officer suddenly threw down their weapons and ran for the steps and general safety of the prison.
Fregrad stood there numb.
Another alien fleet...
One with enough firepower to knock the Empire off this place...
What was that strange human phrase? Out of the frying pan and into the fire?
He suddenly found that his legs could no longer lift him and he fell to the platform content to simply wait for the new occupation forces to issue their new demands.
An unfamiliar ship broke off from the larger mother-craft and lowered itself onto the landing platform of the prison.
Fregrad stared with tired eyes content to enjoy the sea breeze for as long as possible.
The landing ramp lowered allowing the occupants to depart and as they walked towards Fregrad, he saw that the more prominent one was robed.
He moved up to Fregrad and knelt before the tired soldier-turned-freedom-fighter and whispered something the others could not hear.
Fregrad was too speechless to say anything, his tired mind overwhelmed by the despair of moments before.
Instead, he simply started to cry, his body shaking almost violently while being held by the robed figure.
"I'm sorry..." Regrad whispered, gently holding the prisoner but the former Captain did not hear him.
In fact, when the Prime Minister of the Galactic Coalition looked into the former prisoner's face, Fregrad, trying unsuccessfully to hold back his tears, simply said through parched lips...
"You came! You came back!"
The Azguard leader felt as if a terrible weight had been lifted as the former prisoner shouted, "You came back!"
Another figure stepped forward, a Major Lama We, and removed his helmet taking in the salty air as if it was a sweet smelling flower whose scent had nearly been forgotten.
"Home," he whispered to himself.
Kamino, after all these years, had been liberated and there would be joy in New Reef Town once again.
"...I will labour to bring us together again and give us back our dreams."
Regrad - Prime Minister of the Galactic Coalition
*