New Beginnings Part I: An Alliance of Rebels (Yavin 8)

Marin Faulker stood there with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked at a small plaque he had hanging on the wall behind his desk, engraved was the name "Roons Sewell", Roons Sewell had been a General in the Rebellion before sacrificing his life to save his men. In Marin's eyes he had been a hero. At Roons' funeral he had some of his favorite lines read by Jan Dodonna, throughout the years Marin often referred to these words.

"If Tyranny's cold grasp should tighten, what is left but to endure? One man or one woman, a grain of sand in that clammy clot, a fellowship of wet misery."

"But if some strange fire should fuse that sad company into glass, then what newborn edges might bloodily cut and win release?"

"We are being shaped in this war. Let it happen. Be sharpened as glass, yes, but flexible as steel."

"Each fallen comrade is a hammer blow, but along with it, let that strange fire make you harder for the rigors ahead, sharper and more daring for battles to come."

"We fight a good fight."

"It was an honor to have served with you. I loved you all."

Marin loved him as well, he was a great soldier and an even better man. But that was years ago, when Marin had first joined the Rebellion. He was just a pilot, he didn't know at that point how far the Rebellion would take him. But Marin Faulker wasn't always a Rebel. No.

Marin thought of how many times he'd try to get the single moment out of his head, however no matter how hard he tried he would never live it down. Somehow he didn't see how evil the Empire was, somehow he didn't the Empire for what it really was, an oppressive, tyrannical, dictatorship.

28 Standard Years Ago: Coruscant

I'd just graduated from the Academy, I was stationed in Imperial Center which was where every member of the Imperial Military wanted to be, or at least that's what I thought.

Clink Clank Clink Clank Clank. Came the quick sound as I marched down the catwalk at a quickened pace, I can still remember the sound vividly.

Click. Came the audible sound. "TX-365 reporting in." Click was heard again as my Stormtrooper's comlink relayed the message.

Click. "TX-365, what is your position?" Click. TX-360 asked me, I still remember his designation...

Click. "Glitannai Esplanade sir." Click. I replied as my pace slowed and I began to monitor the activity of the bustline avenue of tourist shops and restaurants. It was one of the most popular destinations the rich and famous of Coruscant, not many other could afford what they had to offer there.

Click. "TX-365, report to rendezvous point cresh on the double." Click. TX-360 ordered. An order which I followed without a second thought. Who knew that in just a few moments I'd see an even that wouldn't be broadcasted on the Holonet or advertised by the Rebellion... but an event that showed me how ruthless the Empire really was. I'm still amazed that I hadn't noticed before.

Click. "Yes sir." Click. I replied immediately and headed to the rendezvous.

As I got closer I noticed that I was the last of the squad members to arrive at the rendezvous. The other Stormtroopers just stood there looking at me, I wondered what their facial expressions might say if I were able to read them. Reliving the events in my head it was like they were twelve ghosts looking straight into my sould. Eerie.

"Hey YOU there!! Where do you think you're going?" TX-362 said to a group of Mon Calamari walking into the Il Piatti restaurant, there was a large group of them, they looked like they were celebrating some special event. Men, women, children, there had to be at least twenty of them. Their faces were glowing, although it was difficult for me to distinguish the expressions of the Mon Calamari at the time I could tell that they were happy.

"We were just celebrating my-" The Mon Calamari male's words were cut short as TX-362 slammed the butt of his blaster rifle into the alien's jaw. One of the Mon Calamari rushed to his friend's aid when TX-362 raised his blaster rifle aiming it at the second male now.

"Hey Fish Face what are you doing on the Esplanade?" TX-362 asked the alien was visibly shaken. His friend knocked out cold and lying on the ground, blood gushing from his wound. At this point I was waiting for the other troopers to step in and grab 362... but they... they didn't.

A young Mon Calamari ran forward to grab her father in fear, her father now staring down the barrel of TX-362's blaster rifle. But just as she went to clutch her arms around her father for safety 362 adjusted his aim and opened fire on the small Mon Calamari. BLAST BLANG BLAST. I heard it, the shots rang through my ears as all of a sudden the whole scene was in slow motion. The alien girl fell to the ground motionless. Dead.[/i]

"Ha ha ha!! What are you gonna do NOW FISH FACE???" TX-362 said as he raised his aim back to that of her father.

At this point I felt like I was in some kind of nightmare that I would wake up from at any moment. My blaster rifle fell out of my hands and probably made a sound when it hit the ground but I didn't hear it.

Then one of the other Stormtroopers opened fire on the Mon Calamari male. A disturbing laugh rang throughout the group as he blasted the man repeatedly, I think at this point I was deaf to the situation but the bright blaster bolts exploded from the other troopers barrel as another Mon Calamari fell to the ground. The other Calamari began to run hopefully for their lives but then the other Stormies began to open fire. I looked left, the blur of crimson blaster fire escaping from rifle after Stormtrooper rifle in a blaze of evil glory.

I looked to the right and they all began to drop. They began to fall one on top of the other. TX-362 ran into the middle of the crowd kicking the Mon Calamari which had fallen in the massacre. Kicking the already lifeless corpses. Laughing maniacally the whole time.

The pile of corpses was spread out, but all of them were dead. Women. Children. Fathers. Wives. Aliens. Somehow this justified the actions taken by TX-362 and the rest of the squad. They stood there excited.. excited... they'd just ended the lives of twenty some odd innocent people and they couldn't be happier about themselves.

Click. "TX-360 to BASE. We're gonna need a cleanup crew on the Esplanade. We've got fish guts that need to be mopped up." Click. He went on to congratulate TX-362, he patted him on the back, and the rest of the squad continued to laugh and joke about what they had just done. Posing as if they were gunning down the group all over again. Disgusting.

I remember the next day when the Sargeant questioned the Squad Leader about the massacre he had told him that the Mon Calamari were "unruly" and that they had to be dealt with. I remember that they shared a good laugh about the whole thing, I'll never forget the image of the Sargeant patting TX-360 on his armor plated shoulder. At that point I knew.. I knew... that what I was doing was wrong.

The first chance I had I left the squad.. I left Coruscant.. I returned home for a while... but then... I ended up with the Rebellion... I knew it was the right thing to do.. I knew I had to fight for what was right.

Who'd have known that someday I'd be leading the Rebellion?

Not me.

The Present: Yavin 4

The Commander-in-Chief stood there for just a few moments more staring at the plaque, remembering the massacre which had eventually lead him here.

"I'm gonna do this for you Roons..."

It was a good life. They were the best of the best, a pirate gang of eight thousand strong. They were a force to be feared with, a force with many old but still powerful capital warships, and lots of smaller ships, not to mention starfighters. There wasn't a free trading or passenger liner out there that could stand up against their overwhelming force. But it wouldn't last, it was only a matter of time for one of the Batiiv pirates made a mistake that would spell doom for the whole group reflected Alexei Ferrier as his ship blasted through hyperspace. The X-TIE Combination Fighter was known as an ugly, and ugly it was, but because of it's combination of weaponry, and it's manuverability, it was a combination favored by pirates and smugglers alike. One day it happened. A small capital warship of ours stumbled upon a ship owned by a galatic goverment. The goverement was more than capable of destroying us. Yet, the freighter was so tempting. They just couldn't resist plundering it's goods. And so they did, hauling away tons upon tons of refined Glitterstim. The payoff from selling that spice on the black market was more than enough to set up all the older pirates for retirement. Too bad they wouldn't live long enough to enjoy it.

A signal caught ferriers attention, as he was coming up on the exit point. He set the controls, preparing to decant into realspace. Not soon afterwards, as we were having a celebration in light of our victory.....victory, that is quite the irony, the same word of our greatest moment would spell the our greatest tragedy. For two Imperial Victory Mark I Star Destroyers decanted out of hyperspace. Thier names would be forever etched into his memory. The Bombardier, and Crusader, two older victory types, but as the pirates had proved with their ships, older did not mean any less effective. The ships had immediatly launched their complement of missiles straight into the barracks, and command center. Four thousand pirates, one half of the population of the Baativ pirates, erased in mere moments. As our fleet rallied with what personnel were left, and our smaller ships deployed out of their hangar bays, the Victorys let loose with a hail of smaller craft, identified as the fearful TIE Fighters, and some of the newer TIE Interceptors. A close in of their Interceptors showed that these had red stripes along their wings. One man said that they were the Imperial 181st Imperial fighter group, a group that us pilots had very much to fear from. At this point I decided to fake an engine burnout, and to see exactly how good they were from this distance. In all the Imperial fleet consisted of the two large ships, and forty eight fighters. Our fleet, by comparison, consisted of an old but still power Dreadnought Heavy Cruiser, mostly automated, three Kaloth Battlecruisers, and four picket ships, plus some three hundred starfigthers. I envisioned an Imperial slaughter. What I witnessed tore my vision away and ripped my heart out and gave it to the dogs.

Pulling on the controls, Alexei dropped his ship out of hyperspace. The Kaloths were the first to go, the Victorys firing their full complement of missiles once again on the ships, blasting through those powerful ray shields that weren't designed to handle hard projectiles, and blowing their hulls apart and up. Then the picket ships went under in a blaze of turbolaser fire. This allowed the Victorys to concentrate all of their firwepower on the old automated Dreadnought. In the meantime, the TIE Fighters weren't doing too good, but our boys were being slaughtered by those TIE Interceptors. Finally, after eleven minutes, the slaughter was over. Only fifty fighters remained, along with the evacuation shuttles from what remained of our base. Togther we fled into hyperspace. But that was a long time ago. Then, our boys joined up with a rogue Imperial warlord, named Tavira. But if that wasn't bad enough, then settling for peace was. That was when I fled in my starfighter, to come here, and start fighting the Empire all over again. Thought Alexei Ferrier as he looked at the planet of Yavin 4 below.........

The Present...

"I do not care that you are triple volunteers! I do not care that you think you're tough! And I especially don't care what Colonel's @#%$ you sucked to get into my training program!" Skier knew this was going to be a long training session, "Those who I deem worthy will survive, and those who don't will either quit...or have a training accident! This base suffers at least three training accidents a year! All of them, men who have crossed me! If you understand this, give me a hoohah Major!"

"Hoohah, major!"

"Lieutenant! What is your name?!"

"Major, Pike, Major!"

"Surrender your side arm for inspection!"

The soldier named Pike began to unholster his DL from his belt. The Major's face lit up bright red, and he immediately began screaming incoherently at the man.

"What the @#%$ do you think you're doing?!"

"Major, you told me to relinquish my-"

"ARE YOU SPEAKING?! Were you told to speak?!" the Major screamed, "You will not, under any circumstances, relinquish your weapon! If High @#%$ Admiral Marin Faulker walks up to you and asks you for your weapon, you will not relinquish your weapon!! Everybody better give me a hoohah Major!"

"Hoohah, major!"

It seemed that right away the Major had it out for this guy named Pike. Everywhere he went, the Major followed, picking out every mistake he made. The Major reminded him often that any one of those could prove fatal.

Pike began to voice to the other Lieutenants that he was fearing a "training accident". None of them really cared. To be honest, I didn't really give a damn either. No matter how much the Rebellion advertised the glory of the Rebel army, there was no honor. No dignity. No trust.

It seemed everyone hated everyone else.

One of the most grueling aspects of our training courses was called the Brain Buster. The whole idea was to get you to think when you were exhausted...and the Major really knew how to get you exhausted.

We were in the middle of this training excerise when it happened. Most of the soldiers had already gotten to the top of the steep mountainside we were climbing, but only me and Pike remained. Both of us had gone last. Pike was struggling to make it over the edge when the Major stepped down on his rope. He began questioning him. It wasn't the first time this had happened. I was able to make out what they said...barely.

"Liuetenant Pike, can you tell me the speed of a Corellian Corvette?"

"Ahhh!" gasped Pike, "Yeah...ahhh!....21, sir!"

"21 what?"

"MGLT, sir!....ahhh!"

"Take that, and multiply it by the number of ships Joren Arden had with him at Corellia."

"Ahhh!"

For a long while Pike just hung there, struggling to think. He obviously didn't realize that it had been a trick question all along. Even I had, and I was still struggling along.

"Zero, idiot," one of the Lieutenants finally cried out, "Joren Arden wasn't at Corellia."

"Have you lost it, Lieutenant?" the Major calmly asked, the question directed at Pike.

"Tell me one more thing. What is your weapon?"

"Ahhh!"

"Your weapon, man. What is it? What makes you survive and the other guys die."

Silence.

"Its your brain, idiot. Your brain is your weapon. I think you came to this fight unarmed, Lieutenant Pike. Take off your pack."

Pike struggled with his pack, glad to be rid of it. Were I in his situation, I would've too. The packs were one of the things that made us so exhausted. Often times filled with durasteel parts or weights, they easily got you exhausted fast.

Pike handed the pack to the Major, who tossed it over the cliffside. It fell for a while, narrowly missing me, and finally coming to a halt as it slammed into a tree not far from the ground.

"You can't finish this course without a pack, Lieutenant Pike," the Major said, "I suggest you go get it. Even if you gotta break through Centerpoint to do it."

Pike groaned and began his decent back down the cliff. The others turned away, all except the Major who lingered, watching Pike's progress. Just then, the wire that attatched Pike to the top of the cliff snapped, and he fell with a scream. I grabbed out at him, but didn't even get close.

The soldier tumbled down the cliff, slamming into rocks and trees on the way down. I couldn't possibly tell just when he had died, but I could rest assured that he was definitely dead by the time he reached his pack.

"Hurry up, Lieutenant Skier," the Major shouted down, a calm grin on his face, "There are three training accidents here a year. That makes one."

The Major sheathed a knife covertly, but I saw it. I climbed up to the top of that cliff as fast as my body could carry me.

Later that night we were finally allowed to sleep for the first time in five days, but I couldn't. Pike's dead continued to flash through my mind. I don't know why. I hadn't known him very well. I hadn't even much liked the guy. But something made me remember. Something made me guilty.

I shifted my thoughts somewhere else, and my memories brought me back again...

The Past...

"John! Where are you going?" Jeremy called out to him, "We've got patrol duty together in an hour!"

John sighed, dreading this moment.

"I'm leaving, Jeremy," John replied, sighing again, "This time I think its for good."

"What are you talking about, John?" Jeremy asked, his confident grin fading into a frown, "Going where?"

"I'm joining the cause, Jeremy," John said, but there was no happiness in his voice, "The New Rebellion. Calls went up for new recruits a while ago."

"What?" Jeremy asked, shocked, "But what about Helix? You can't abandon your people! Literally! Protocols won't allow it!"

"Thats why I haven't been taken off the flight roster," John replied, looking around to make sure nobody was watching, "Nobody knows I'm leaving besides a few others who are coming with me. We're pretending to be a patrol, and then we're going to jump out system. Please don't tell anyone, Jeremy! Please!"

"Don't worry," Jeremy growled back, with narrowed eyes, "I won't."

The Present...

Sooner or later, I don't know when, my memories quickly turned into dreams. The sound of a horn blowing loudly woke me up. It was what the Major always used to wake up us, and it was annoying as hell. But it didn't make much sense right now. We were supposed to be simulating covert warfare, and blowing a horn was usually considered a dead giveaway.

I sprang up from my spot on the ground, as did the others. We all knew something was wrong...

Something was happening on the ground, of that Anderson was certain. This definetly looked like to coordinates he'd gotten from the Rodian. Of course, this crappy Y-wing looked like it might die any second now. Stealing it from space pirates was one of his worse ideas.

Of course, nothing compared to his worse idea.

Fifteen years ago, Iota

The Empire had set up a "Temporary Embassy" in the middle of the city ruins. Of course, it was just another word for their command center. From there storm-troopers would sweep for "dangerous radicals spreading lies and betraying the Iotans to their eneimes."

People like him.

Iota was a poor planet, he had reflected, as he walked up the steps. If not for the discovery of massive mines, filled with the ore needed for Dura-Steel, no one would have cared for it. But after the discovery, the Empire sure cared.

Of course, the Iotan government had refused all offers of protectorite status, preffering their freedom. Bad move. The Empire hired a warlord by the name of Zujabar to attack the world, destroying the infrastructure.

As he walked through the main lobby, he could even see chunks of the old Parliment Building poking through the floor. But then of course the Empire came, too late to stop the warlord, but just in time to rebuild the planet's government, complete with no-party elections centered around Imperial-Approved Candidates.

As he climbed the stairs he saw the paitings of former leaders. The irony was harsh that each person in each picture would have fought these Imperials to the death, but now they were being freakishly enshrined.

Finally, he had reached the top of the stairs. "Take out food."

The governor's attendant had opened the door. The Imperial-appointed general had just enough time to look up befor Anderson drew his pistol and fired eight rounds into his head. He escaped through the window in the confusion. Fifteen minutes of fame, he had laughed, until they traced him and chased him off-world. Since then he'd been holdin down any job that paid, until he'd heard of the Rebels. He'd fought the Empire once, he'd do so again.

He gave the nav-computer a light tap. It went fuzzy and blinked out. Oh well, at least he could see the moon by now. He absent mindedly wondered how close he'd get to the planet before his heat-shield broke down and he burnt up.

Day of wrath! O day of mourning!
See fulfilled the prophets' warning,
Heaven and earth in ashes burning!

Oh what fear man's bosom rendeth,
when from heaven the Judge descendeth,
on whose sentence all dependeth.

Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth;
through earth's sepulchers it ringeth;
all before the throne it bringeth.

Death is struck, and nature quaking,
all creation is awaking,
to its Judge an answer making.
Lo! the book, exactly worded,
wherein all hath been recorded:
thence shall judgment be awarded.

When the Judge his seat attaineth,
and each hidden deed arraigneth,
nothing unavenged remaineth.

What shall I, frail man, be pleading?
Who for me be interceding,
when the just are mercy needing?

King of Majesty tremendous,
who dost free salvation send us,
Fount of pity, then befriend us!
Think, good Jesus, my salvation
cost thy wondrous Incarnation;
leave me not to reprobation!

Faint and weary, thou hast sought me,
on the cross of suffering bought me.
shall such grace be vainly brought me?

Righteous Judge! for sin's pollution
grant thy gift of absolution,
ere the day of retribution.

Guilty, now I pour my moaning,
all my shame with anguish owning;
spare, O God, thy suppliant groaning!

Thou the sinful woman savedst;
thou the dying thief forgavest;
and to me a hope vouchsafest.

Worthless are my prayers and sighing,
yet, good Lord, in grace complying,
rescue me from fires undying!
With thy favored sheep O place me;
nor among the goats abase me;
but to thy right hand upraise me.

While the wicked are confounded,
doomed to flames of woe unbounded
call me with thy saints surrounded.
Low I kneel, with heart submission,
see, like ashes, my contrition;
help me in my last condition.

Ah! that day of tears and mourning!
From the dust of earth returning
man for judgment must prepare him;
Spare, O God, in mercy spare him!

Lord, all pitying, Jesus blest,
grant them thine eternal rest. Amen.
__________________________________________________

He stood in the shade of the bank of the Seigen River, having walked yards away from the house, and family, momentarily weary of the company. He stood six feet two inches in height. His hair was a dusty white color, his eyebrows a darker shade of black. He had a well-proportioned frame and a suffuecuent amount of muscle, but he lacked any trace of fat; his muscles showed clearly beneath the skin, giving him an appearance of thinness.

The same leanness added intensity and, falsely, a hint of villainy to his face. When he smiled, it seemed he might be thinking something unplesant or planing mischeif. His voice did little to help this impression, as gruff and cold as it was.
His clothes tended to be proffesional. His faveorite outfit was an old red jacket - he wore now - a black vest and matching pants. His shoes were sturdy military issuie boots, perfect for the harsh use they often saw in the feilds around his home.
Wind hissed through the branches of a tree overhead.

Looking up, peering between the black silhouettes of leaves he saw the thick spill of stars. He knew all the constellations, knew how the stars were born (as much as everyone else did anyway) and how they grew old and how some died. Still, the stars were seldom more than lights on a deep blue velvet. Only once in a great while could he make them fill out and see them for what they were, far participants in an intricate play.

Voices carried over the woods. On the broad singlestory cabin's porch, vaulting on sturdy concrete pillars above the fern- and tree-covered bluff, a new visitor sat, looking at him curiously.

Below him, the river flowed with a whispering rumble. Still squatting, he slid down the bank on the heels of his thoroughly muddy boots and dipped his long-fingered hands into the cold water.

All things are connected to a contented man. He looked up again at the sky.

"God damn," he said in awe, his eyes moistening. "I love it all"

Something padded close to him in the dark, sniffling. He tensed, then recognized the eager whine. The three month old dog, Holt, had followed him down to the river. He felt the pup's cold nose against his outstretched palm and rumpled the dogs head and ears in his outstretched hands.

"Why'd you come all the way down here? Nothing intresting back home?"

Holt sat in the dirt, rump wriggling, tail swishing through the damp leaves. THe pup's moist brown marble eyes reflected twin-star glints.

"Call of the wild" he said on the dogs behalf.

"Out here in the savage wilderness" Holt leaped away and pounced his forepaws into the water.

Turning back from the river, he made his way back to the cabin.

Marty, his son; a bright, quiet boy of eight, spectrally thin; played with his cousin on the sward below and east of the patio. Becky, a pretty hellion with more apparent energy than sense - excusable for her age - had brought along a monkey hand puppet. To give it voice she made high-pitched chattering noises, more birdlike than monkeylike.

Marty's giggle, excited and girlish, flew out through the tops of the trees. He had hopeless crush on Becky. Here, in isolation - with nobody else to distract her - she did not spurn him, but she often chided him, in a voice full of dignity, for his "boogy" ways. "Boogy" meant any number of things, none of them good. Marty accepted these comments in blinking silence, too young to understand how deeply they hurt him.

They had lived in the cabin for six months, since the end of Raven's stint as science advisor to the President of Ursia. He had used that time to catch up on his reading, consuming a whole month's worth of astronomical and scientific journals in a day, consulting on aerospace projects one or two days a week, flying north to Tuis or south to Segun once a mo

Alexei Ferrier sent his ship into a roll as he entered the atmosphere. Upon entry into the system he had detected another ship in orbit, a Y-wing type vessel. Old, slow, and clanky. Definitly one of the worst choices he could of picked. Of course, not an entirely bad choice, if he has that thing loaded up with proton bombs. Alexei descended into the air above the jungle planet, and leveled out about three hundred feet above the ground. Then he began to transmit:

"Alexei Ferrier to General Marin Faulker, Alexei Ferrier to General Marin Faulker, do you copy. I repeat, do you copy?" Alexei said into his comlink, broadcasting on a wide spectrum that would be picked up by any comlink on this side of the planet. Suddenly, movement caught the eye of Alexei. He saw men standing up in the jungle not too far ahead of him. They looked to be commandoes of some sort. Not knowing who they were, Alexei decided to investigate further. He goosed up his engines to where he produced a sonic boom type roar as he flew in one hundred feet now over the area where the commandoes were at. He saw quite a few birds take flight as he pulled up when he approached a steep cliff. He performed a double barrel roll, and went straight up five miles, out of sight into the sun. Then he leveled out, and performed a brilliant series of manuevers before he leveled out, once again at 100 feet above the cliff. He kicked in repulsorlifts, and began to descend. Perhaps one of these men would know where Marin Faulker is.........

Matthias Woods looked into the sky, his right hand cupped over his eyebrow to block out the brilliant sun.

"Who the @#%$ is this hot dog?" Matt whispered to himself as he looked to the starfigher doing several ridiculous maneuvers.

Matt squinted his eyes to get a clearer sight. "Is anyone tailing that guy or did I just enter the Yavin 4 Air Show viewing grounds?" Matthias Woods said as he viewed the starfighter making several evasive maneuvers for no apparent reason.

"Admiral Woods." The female voice came through the comm unit.

"Woods here." He responded.

"I've got a message from an unidentified vessel hailing "General Marin Faulker"." The female voice continued.

"Playback message please." Woods responded.

"Alexei Ferrier to General Marin Faulker, Alexei Ferrier to General Marin Faulker, do you copy?" Was heard through Matthias Woods' Comm Link.

"Patch me into frequency Morgan." Woods answered to the woman who was controlling incoming messages.

"Unidentified craft this is Rear-Admiral Matthias Woods. You are in Rebel airspace." Matthias said confidently as he waited for a reply. The reply did not come immediately as Matt stood there almost ready to have his own starfighters shoot the starfighter down.

"Rear-Admiral this is Alexei Ferrier reporting for duty. Awaiting clearance for landing." The starship replied.

"Alexei Ferrier?" Woods asked himself. "Morgan, check the clearance list for an "Alexei Ferreir"." Matthias Woods inquired.

"Clearance granted." Morgan said as she responed to Rear-Admiral Matthias Woods.

"Alexei Ferrier eh?" He said to himself. @#%$... "Alexei Ferrier you are clear to land, Marin Faulker has granted you access to this sanctuary himself. Proceed to the co-ordinates directed." Matt Woods said although not completely assured that this "Alexei Ferrier" would be a welcome addtion to the Rebellion.

Alexei recieved the message on his comlink, followed by the coordinates being transmitted, and transferred to his navicomputer. The coordinates showed a temple like structre, with an flat area suitable for a landing zone being the main point of the coords. Alexei aborted his landing in the jungle, and instead headed for the assigned targets. Once again his thoughts drifted back to his time with the Survivors, after the Batiiv Pirates massacre......

Captian Nive had sat in a chair when a man was ushered in. Although he could not know it at the time, this man was none other than the Jedi Corran Horn, undercover as a man named Jenos Idanian. He had come here, it was thought, to become a proud member of the Survivors, though he wasn't a survivor himself, but rather was one of the new members, but from what Alexei had heard from the engagement between the Invidious, and the Tinta Lines shuttle that this so called Jenos had taken command of, he was a hot pilot. Captian Nive had accepted him into the group. This was the start of the series of events that would be the cause of the survivors abandoning their pirating ways, and becoming nothing but a mere fighter forces protecting a pretty useless world reflected Ferrier as he brought his ship in for a landing. Son of Niles Ferrier, a reputed ship theif who had been forced to operate under Grand Admiral Thrawn. His father that been killed by one of those big smuggler chiefs. But Alexei knew that the real reason Ferrier had died was because of the way Thrawn had forcefully enlisted him, and sent him on repeatedly dangerous missions, all because he had bribed a few Imperial troops, and later killed them, the Empire's so called disposable shock troops. I think Thrawn had it out for my father from the very start. Maybe it was because my father hated the fine arts? Ferrier thought with a malicious grin. Anyways, Corran took upon himself to work his way up the command ranks, so that he could issue orders to save his fellow pilots at the Battle of Xa Fel from being destroyed with laser cannons. Woo-hoo, Ion cannons. Big whoopie. Wussy. Then Admiral Tavira made her real mistake. Giving him vacation time on Courkrus, without her being around, meant that he was free to carry out his plans. This was when most of the other pirate groups had abandoned us, and some of our older members, and many of the newer ones, had deserted. I stayed on, but my nerves had been frazzled, none the less.

Ferrier made his approach to the landing platform, and settled down. He checked his weapons, and opened the cockpit. Then he went to Yumfla, and helped that big bug, Luke Skywussy to drive off Tavira. Then that incredibly gay red Star Destroyer had appeared in our space, and threatened to slag us if we didn't go peaceful. And with that, wraps up that history. We were never touched by the Yuzzies, although we did get a fair amount of refugees. And now, some of us want to get back into the action. Some thirty six of us want to fly, pirate style again, and when we heard about this new rebellion group forming, I was chosen as the envoy, being the oldest remaining original survivor, at the ripe age of forty. I was very young indeed when the Batiiv Pirates were originally massacred, just a small teenager, but I still flew, and I still remember.

Descending from his cockpit, Ferrier sauntered over to the man that looked to be in charge. He then underwent a major transformation, straightning up his back, and posture to military crispness, and locking his eyes onto the officer, and offering a snap salute, for Ferrier had once been a young trainee in Carida at the age of fifteen. He had graduated, shortly before joining the doomed Batiiv Pirates......."Alexei Ferrier, former Batiiv Pirate, and Invid Survivor, reporting for duty, Admiral." said Alexei in almost perfect militay reporting speech.

Matthias Woods hopped on his speeder bike to meet this new recruit at the docking bay. A deep rumble exuded from the engines as he jammed the throttle forward propelling the sleek craft into motion at a few hundred kilometers per hour.

He navigated along the trail that the Rebellion had cleared out for patrols and quick trips to the various bases and assorted Rebel buildings on the planet. Marin had setup these pathways not only for patrols, each path was just a few minute's journey via speeder bike. This made it easy to get around the planet quickly with speeder bikes as the main mode of transportation. Each path was wide enough for a few speeder bikes to pass comfortably, although at any given time there would only be two, one coming and one going. Morgan had tabs on all the paths and anytime a Rebel requested passage they would have to clear it with her, this would prevent unnecessary accidents. Although every once in a while an uninvited guest would make its way to the path, usually in the form of wild animals. Typically these scenarios didn't end up well for any involved.

They had been working on a sensor system for the paths that would alert them to these types of obstacles. The system was almost complete but was not ready to fully implement yet. There were several of these types of projects that the Rebels had been working on to fortify their base of operations. Seeing as they hadn't occupied Yavin 4 for very long they'd been doing a remarkable job.

Matthias Woods arrived at the docking bay and parked his speeder in the designated area which was little more than cleared out brush in front of the Massassi Temple which had been turned into a makeshift Docking Bay. He then made his way to the landing pad where Alexei Ferrier would be arriving shortly. Two Rebel soldiers who were standing guard at the entrance to the docking bay saluted Rear-Admiral Woods as he entered. As he made his way to the landing pad the two soldiers accompanied him blaster rifles in hand.

Just as they made their way up to the docking bay Alexei Ferrier was landing. The Rear-Admiral and the two soliders stood there as the man left his craft and came to greet the Admiral. He saluted as Woods returned the gesture.

"Alexei Ferrier, former Batiiv Pirate, and Invid Survivor, reporting for duty, Admiral."

"Welcome to Yavin 4 Alexei Ferrier. Those stunts you pulled up there, almost got you killed." Matthias Woods said sternly.

Alexei Ferrier was wise enough not to respond.

"I'll have Rezar and Tanglo escort you to your quarters." Woods said as he motioned for Alexei Ferrier to join the two Rebel soldiers.

Arza Rezar and Mata Tanglo lead the way as Matthias Woods just stood there for a moment on the landing pad. Matthias Woods looked up to the sky, it was a beautiful picture, the bright red Gas Giant Yavin hovering above them. It was huge, it occupied most of the sky along with the various moons scattered on the horizon.

Was I too hard on him? Matthias Woods questioned himself for just a moment and then brushed it off without a second thought. No... of course not...

Anderson had spotted the other pilot, and had followed him for as long as he was in sight. At the time he'd been irritaited by the slow pace, trying to keep up with the faster craft that hadn't even seen him.

Right now spiralling towards the planet at maximum speed felt a little faster then what he'd had in mind.

As fire sputtered from his left thruster, his right one was trying to right his ship, with little success. He was still trying to get through the ozone layer, the heat having already broken the old heat-shield and was now causing tiny rivulets of molten metal and paint to run on the surface of the Y-wing. He gritted his teeth and punched in a command to the computer, telling it to shift the system controls to the back-up processor before the regular one melted. Little luck there.

Finally, the burning heat gave way to a wall of clouds. He cut through each one, a puff of water-vapour trailing him. The fires went out, the metal cooled, but in the wrong shape. He was twisting out of control towards the temple. Automated defences - as well as anyone with a brain and a gun - would begin to fire on him soon least he crash into them. Luckily he suceeded in pulling to the side in time.

Finally, just before he crashed, he aimed the nose of the craft ever so carefully-

THUMP

"There we go."

His ship was quivering in the soil, the front half of its' nose embedded. He'd hit no trees, started no fires, hell, anywhere else people would be claping and he'd have made the news.

Lifting himself - rather shakily - out of the cockpit and leant with a sigh against the side of the fighter. Birds and beasts watched him with trepidition from their hiding places. Finally, a curious and small batty/bird thing hopped forwards towards a pack of rations that had fallen out of his ship. Anderson almost - almost - smiled to see the tiny thing, trying to get at the food.

He heard a twig snap.

"Make one move" he said, pointing his pistol at the rebel scouts "And I will shoot you. What is it you want?"