Remnants

The End - a Beginning

The sky seemed to be greyer than usual, a distant red glow seemed to tear apart the cloud cover above the planetary capital – a herald of the approaching battles and as she steered the airspeeder into the only sparsely used skylane leading out of Catosis City. The cockpit was closed and the air inside sticky and warm compared to the cool temperature outside, a hand moving up and brushing through her accurately cut short brown hair as she listened to the nearly frantic speaker of the official holo-net. Uncertainty – a state of things, a state of being, that had been nearly non-existent in the twenty years that Isabella of Tress, heiress to the noble family of Tress, and because of this made her quite uncomfortable.

The airspeeder moved to sluggishly for her tastes, her gloved left hand holding the controls steady and the slim fingertips of her right hand moving towards the radio, flicking it on and listening to the words that rushed out of the speakers eagerly: from both, the man and the machine, as if neither could endure to keep this information in them any longer.

"…fighting has shifted towards the orbital installations above our planets third moon. Our valiant defenders are repulsing the invaders at each point of the battle. The Righteousness has anchored the battle line on itself and its mighty guns throw those pretenders back with each blast of their salvoes! Do not despair citz-"

The black leather of her glove was already creaking under the strain her hand put on it, as it clenched around the controls, Isabella's lips were pushed together into a thin line, all colour having fled from them as she steered into the next skylane, the few stragglers that were moving out of the city not minding another car laden with supplies flying next to them. Having sunken down from the controls of her radio, her right hand shifted ever so slightly, touching the still shining back of the blaster pistol that was tugged away under the firm grey fabric of her tunic.

As she went through the shops and made the few last purchases before the invading forces would reach their planet -and of that there was no doubt, no matter what the HoloNet was broadcasting into all directions-, she had yearned for Chaos or Riots. If the people would have done something, would have shown some kind of spirit, even if it was only the one invoked by spirits, then this whole situation would have seemed more…real. Instead they had moved in rows, orderly and silent, a terrible silence, one that wasn't one but instead rifle with whispers and fearful glances. It was as if the whole city had been underwater and everyone moving slow and ponderous, their limbs barely having any strength and their voices nothing more than a faint echo, which was lost as quickly as it was found. It was as if fog had descended over their minds and lives, a white nothingness that hide away all certainty of the world and turned everyone into a stumbling fool that tried to follow their beaten paths of daily routine in fear of knocking something loose should they deviate from it.

As she pulled her airspeeder to the right, leaving the city behind her, she moved past one of the large suburban towers, its top visible to her with a large number of teens and children gathered on it. Small flags were waved in the hand and the whole group seemed to be centred around a large telescope that had been put up for them: the responsible adult watching through it and waving one from his audience closer from time to time to let them take a look too.

She couldn't help but scoff as she saw a few of the tots hold up a larger banner with the silhouette of the Righteousness, cheering loudly as their elders proclaimed something and a small light flared up on the sky, before dying just as quickly as the crew of the ship that must have gotten to close to the old vessel. No matter how many times the speaker in the HoloNet repeated strong words like: "repulsing", "anchoring", "steadying the frontline" and the many other variations of the same topos: The Righteousness was a vessel that should have been decommissioned after the end of the Clone Wars and had only stayed as part of the system defence because the old Venator Attack Cruiser was a fond talisman for the whole system.

With the ship barely repaired and never upgraded, the complement of ARC-170 heavy star fighters was the true weapon of the ship: lovingly kept intact by technicians that could trace their last battles through the finishing years of the clone wars and sponsored by all the large families of the system, they had been the envy of other visiting dignitaries and more often than not a rather expensive gift to visitors in which her home system had special interests.

In the history laden halls of the Righteousness young and old were tolling next to another: they mature and greying veterans of the Clone wars, next to the oldest of the academies cadets, all of them joined in their patriotic duty to defend their homes and fighting a doomed fight, but for what? The faint hope that help would arrive in time and spare Cato Prime the horror of war? Was it a last battle for the honour of the military that remained in their system…or was it simply pig-headedness that made them unable to surrender their ship as long as they still had a weapon to shoot back?

The older grades were up there, fighting for their home and families. She was down here and buying glorified groceries for her mother. With her lips having lost all colour once more and her teeth pressing deeply into them, she pushed the machine forward, trying to speed away as quickly as possible from that roof, moving deeper into the suburban area, where the high skyscrapers only had a few dozen floors. Colorful facades and graceful architecture reminded her of better times, while the broken windows and gaping holes where Elevators should have been pulled back into the present time.

Their "Estate": the two top floors of the largest tower came ever closer, the playful arches set on top the stout pilasters a choice of her grandfather, who had come back "inspired" by the architecture of the Core world's and used a huge chunk of their remaining wealth to pay for his flight of fancy. But even a two generations later the building evocated the impression of wealth and power, even as the lower floors crumbled and more and more halls were closed off to save Credits.

Coming to a halt and steering the airspeeder onto one of the platforms that lined the top of the tower, Isabella pushed the glass panel over her upwards, sucking in the cool air as it rushed in and grasping the small cap that had been attached to her tunics shoulder. Putting the small article of clothing onto her head, she lifted herself out of her seat, using her hands to push her body up, straining her trained arms and swinging herself out in one fluid motion: securely landing on the firm floor, with her boots impacting the dusty surface loudly.

"You are back, Mrs. Tress?", a soft voice called out to her and Isabella came face to face with the only servant her family still had. Of course it hadn't always been like that: in her earliest memories she could remember their house being full of life, full of servants in colourful livery that took care of the garden hanging from the sides of the tower and looking after the household. Back in the days the heiress of the family wouldn't have driven into the city -or at least not alone- to buy medicine and tools, when unrest was rampart in the southern continent and when invaders where approaching their planet from above. Back in the days it wouldn't have been normal either to see the Heiress grinning, before moving forward and embracing the servant girl that was just a tad shorter than her and roughly the same age. A grin spread over her slightly torn lips, as she took in the other young woman, from the tasteful white dress to the green sash wrapped around her waist and coloured in the deep green of their family colours, with a white emblem -depicting the Liberator-Class fighter of their noble progenitor- presented on its middle. Where Isabella was trained and tanned from the exercises in the sun, the girl before her seemed fair and soft, but this was only the first impression, for this girl was holding together all of the Tress-household since the age of fourteen. Looking at one another like sisters, even if nearly their completely opposite in appearance, they smiled and the heiress said with some happiness in her voice:

"Glad you are back here with us Cassia, I had worried when I heard that riots had broken out in the South…did you get out of there in time?"

A certain stiffness overcame the shorter girl, a small nod and a murmured yes being the only answer, reluctance and hesitation replacing the joy of finally seeing the person, that was her sister in all but name. Isabella for her part, broke the hug as she recognized the changes, putting a firm hand on Cassia's shoulder and asking her intently:

"It's not about your uncle again, is it? I know father had to intervene a few years back because of his rather…agitating behaviour and his rather questionable political ideas. If he as so much dared to…"

She was beginning to get heated once more, anger lacing her voice…only to be stopped as Cassia shook her head lightly, taking her hand and squeezing it lightly:

"He was not at his home and it only took be longer because my aunt got two of my cousins to accompany me to the express station. Uncle was out and…."

"…agitating. Calling for civil disobedience and rebellion.", finished Isabella darkly, giving slowly nodding girl a long suffered look before shaking her head: "As if our planet would need something like that right now. The HoloNet was already reporting how angry mobs were lynching officials in their homes when I drove to the shops."

All colour seemed to flee out of Cassia's face as she heard this, biting her lips and forming small fists with her hands, as she looked down to the floor:

"Uncle would never want to do something like that…it has to be propaganda."

A small scoff was her answer and as she looked up once more, she saw the girl she perceived as her older sister smiling once more, waving her worries off with one hand:

"Most likely yes, I wouldn't believe half of the things the HoloNet is shouting out right now, but still: we should present a united front in face of the invasion and not fight against each other."

Moving back towards the airspeeder and pushing the compartment on its back open with a simple flick, Isabella pulled out two long bags she had stuffed full with all the necessities that might…no: will grow sparse as soon as the Invaders landed on the planet. Medicine and food were important enough that she hadn't dared to send either her mother or her sister-in-all-but-name out to fill the two duffel sacks for their household. The pre-packed packs were hardly the food they were used to – she herself found it quite comparable to the food they had given the cadets in the academy in the capital- but it would hold for the next few weeks and months if needed without spoiling. Starting to walk towards the door, she smiled at Cassia as she walked next to her. The two young woman walked through the large imposing gates that parted the floors the Tress family could call their own from the landing platforms and moved through the green terrace garden that laid between the outer wall and the estate. Another place her ancestors had left their mark: a small pavilion formed the centre piece of the garden, standing in the middle of the sightline that connected the outer gate with the entrance to her ancestral home. It's filigree lines seemed at odds with its positioning a few hundred meters above the ground in the middle of a high-garden and the arched columns with the green plants growing along them both hailed from the homeworld of the Emperor. Another Great-Uncle had bought it and brought it home in one piece after having seen it at a visit and fallen in love with the looks. Spring was coming, even if it wasn't in the mind of the people out there and Isabella stopped, letting her eyes wander over the growing nature, the last time she had been at home, the beds had still been covered in snow and ice with only a few green saplings pushing out of their wintry covering. Today the first buds had already opened and were blooming in bright colours, the first truly warm smile of the day flicking over Isabella's lips as she looked at them and then towards Cassia:

"You have outdone yourself again this year it seems: they are coming along quite wonderfully and little to none have withered from frostbite. How did you choose the seeds for this year? The last ones before them hadn't endured the height that easily."

The small blush that suddenly settled onto Cassia's cheek was more than enough to make Isabella grin once more as she looked down at her sister and grinned from ear to ear:

"Don't tell me…what was his name: Pallavius? Apprentice gardeners of the Meinhoffs a few towers over?"

The way the other girls cheeks seemed to burn up were they weren't covered by her long sun-kissed hair, was enough of an answer for Isabella to start laughing and moving over to hug her with one arm, keeping the duffel sack loosely in her hand as they moved up the stairs to the lobby together. With a teasing tone in her voice the taller cadet cooed in a barely audible whispers:

"The Pallavius you wrote me about in that one letters, who helped you with the groceries?"

The small adorable squeak was all she needed to know to start laughing in a warm way and it only took Cassia a moment longer to work through her embarrassment, before she also joined Isabella in laughing – they weren't young girls anymore….but it sure was nice to act like this once in a while and forget the better things hanging over them….quite literally right now. But their laughter was short lived, as they pushed open the door and fell silent immediately.

The lobby was imposing, set out to impress and intimidate those that came to deal with the House of Tress: a baroque fountain formed the interior, with a dancing near-human girl flicking through the air on one leg, the other arched highly as if the smooth marble had caught her in the very motion. Two stairs, one on each side of the room lead upwards to the second floor, where the large dining halls and further back the private rooms, were. Lining the walls to allow every visitors the chance to see them when progressing further into the building, were the ancestral portraits of the Tress, light sculpture after light sculpture showed the different busts of Isabella's ancestors. All of them dressed in the uniforms of their time, from the near mythical orange vested garments of the Old Republics pilot corps, to the dark blue uniforms of the Catosis Fighter Wings and finally the white and yellow uniforms of the Republic. All Tress had been pilots of Starfighters…for the last thousands of years this had been the family tradition…her heart beat quicker for a moment as she looked up to the top of the staircase, a bust half hidden in the shadows…. father.

"So you have found home again…"

An older and mature voice called out sharply from the top of the stairs, Isabella's gaze going to the stern woman that was her mother: Carmen Socia of Tress nèe of Uzhof. Her eyes had the same clear green as that of her daughter, but with sharp wrinkles around them that spoke not of laughter but of worries and anger that had eaten its way into the woman that was not approaching them, but instead remained upstairs, looking down at them while her hands searched for hold on the handrail of the stairs.

"Come one girl: have you eaten your tongue on the fly back home…or are you simply too ashamed to speak before your ancestors as the failure you are."

The end came out a bit slurred and Isabella could see the glass glistening even in the half darkness of the lobby, with the tall windows closed by heavy curtains and the few remaining rays falling on the frayed grey hairs that were standing out of her mother's usually spotlessly done hairstyle. Even the long dress she wore with the shawl around her neck, seemed less kept than usual, as if the turmoil on the outside had found its way into her mother's very being and look. Taking in a small breath and noticing that Cassia had wisely taken a step back to give her room, she looked upwards, taking the cap from her head hat and saying loudly and audible:

„Mother…you are drunk."

The words were neither spoken derisive nor with any kind of judgement in their tone, Isabella had fallen into a straight and firm posture, her feet lightly apart and her hands clasped behind her back as she tried to project nothing less than professionalism…just as the instructors had taught her. Only Cassia was able to see how those hands were clenching on her back, shaking ever so softly as the older Tress woman leaned forward and looked at her daughter with wild eyes:

"You…. you! good-for-nothing of a daughter dare to call me drunk!"

Her hands clenched around the red wood of the handrail, clutching it tightly as she glared down at Isabella, who was staring up defiantly, even as her mother started to cry:

"You are a disgrace for our family! All Tress have gotten into the pilot corps, each and every one of them for the last centuries! And you? In what do you excel? MATHS, THREE-DIMENSIONAL THINKING AND PHYSICAL EDUCATION!"

Doing her best to let the abuse wash of her – or to at least appear as if it was doing so- Isabella simply looked up to her mother with a calm and expressionless look, not moving or even flinching as the glass feel out of the raging woman's grasp, shattering on the floor in a dozen glittering shards that bounced off the smooth colourful floor and formed a little circle. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a white handkerchief with the emblem of the family sewn into its corner, leaning down to pick up the glasses shards one after another, even as her mother started to pick up where she stopped once more:

"If you would have wanted to make your late father proud, you would be up there right now! Flying a fighter to defend our home…instead of buying groceries."

Gathering the last glass shards in her handkerchief, she looked over to Cassia and gave her a small nod, the other woman quickly hurrying up the stairs and taking the mothers arm gently, slowly easing her back and away from the balcony. Haunted dark eyes looked down at Isabella for a moment longer, a deathly whisper drifting down to her:

"…if only you would die up there like your father…."

Like a ghostly shadow of the stern but lively woman Isabella remembered from her childhood, Cassia lead back the Lady of Tress to her bedroom: the planet wide depression, if one might call the mood that seemed to have settled onto Catosis with the arrival of the enemies that, seemed to have made no expectation when it came to her mother. Moving over to a trashcan half hidden inside a wall, she pushed it open and dumped the glass inside of it, starting to scale up the stairs…those on the opposite side, where she wouldn't have to walk past her father's bust.

Her slightly worn boots touched down loudly with each step, half hidden faces staring at her as she pushed the door to the large dinner hall and meeting room open, stepping onto the shining tiles. A few steps brought her to the middle of her room, steps echoing from the walls as she reached out and activated the central projector. The blue light sprang up and lit up the room as the windows were closed and darkness left her alone with the dancing projections. The system was old, but had been state of the art back then, now it was used to project the special news reports: catching Isabella's full attention and making her look up as she stood to take everything in:

The Reporter was still droning on in the background about the chances for reinforcement arriving soon or that the ruling Council of the city was taking all necessary actions to prepare for a prolonged defence of the system. But like the majority of the planet she was blending out the increasingly nervous stammering of the Speaker, her eyes riveted on the moving picture of the Righteousness as the Attack Cruiser swung into line above the orbital yard of the world. The rather modest fleet base had been put in orbit around Catosis years ago and was the most precious installation in the whole system…and the hearth of the defence systems that formed around it to shield the northern hemisphere of the planet from any attack. But today the weapon platforms were used to assist the Righteousness, whose starboard facing side was blackened and showed the pockmarks of Turbolaser fire, as well as larger chunks that had been carved out by barely evaded torpedoes.

"They…they are launching shuttles? This is most…most irregular."

The Speaker began once more and Isabella could only agree as the Venetar Cruiser presented its prow to the enemy, tilting itself lightly to the side to favour it's still undented side and shields, while the hangars on the lower side of it opened up and a stream of various shuttle types pushed down towards and into the shipyards. Unlike the more prestigious fighters which had been cared for by the noble families, the shuttles were kept afloat by the general population and carried the naval infantry recruited from it. Suddenly objects started to detach from the station and she could see one then two and then more and more escape capsules and vessels detaching from the orbital yard, heading for the planet bellow. The picture cut off quickly and was once more replaced by the speaker, who was now openly sweating as he was reading another set of cards he had just gotten:

"The Planetary Council has ordered the Planetary shipyard to be left alone, the invaders are unlikely to open fire on it…and the long term consequences of its destruction would be terrible for not only the planet but the whole sect- what? They are launching lifeboats?"

The last question clearly wasn't written down on his cards anymore, as his eyes had widened at seeing an image somewhere to his left. With a shaky look back at the camera and the people who were quite surely watching this, he gave a strained smile and blinked out. Once more the Net was dominated by the life stream from the orbit, the Venator now exchanging fire with another ship that wasn't on the picture just yet. But the Speakers surprise became understandable as the transmission zoomed in on the shipyards grey structures…a rain of small crafts was spilling out of it and heading towards the surface. Had the shuttles of the Righteousness helped to facilitate an evacuation? Why?

Those questions were put back for another moment as the camera pulled back once more and the people down on the planet got a view of the Invaders ships. Two wedge shaped forms angled in from the direction of the systems star, their prows pointed forward and their long drawn engine allowing an identification as two Acclamator-class assault ships. The design was even older than the Venator-class and the armament was light compared to the Righteousness against which those two ships seemed quite small. But neither side was intent on winning this engagement as a capital ship action: instead fighters rushed into the void between the ships, racing alongside the heavier turbolaser salvo's and escorting the heavy torpedoes of the ships towards their target, till the cloud of contacts meet in the middle. Hundreds of fighters and bombers waved in and out, trying to keep formation and trying to stay alive at the same time and while the Venator had its own complement of heavy fighters and the fixed defences of the shipyard around it, the enemy was jumping in more and more wings. While the pilots of their "homefleet" were the best of the best, they were in two categories: either those who were veterans and old, or those which were young and had done well in the academy – their opponents on the other hand, flew with the experience of a whole war behind them and a youthful vigour that showed their firm believe in their victory.

The observer ship that transmitted the feed from the battle was too far out to identify the show the single ships and was barely able to keep up with identifying them…even as their numbers started to sink on both sides. The heavier ARC fighters were surviving punishment that would have taken apart lesser fighters thanks to their armour, but the enemy was simply faster. Slowly but surely their numbers were depleting and their role becoming more and more defensive as the Righteousness threw up covering fire to help them pull back…only that this also slackened as enemy bombers acted more and more aggressively, blowing up the fixed defences in attack runs and finally settling their eye on the Venator once more. The single friendly wedge was surrounded now from all side and even if one of the enemy ships was now limping and drifting port-side to covers it carved up flank: the Righteousness wasn't in any better shape. Its weapon points were getting carved apart by the enemy and it slowly but surely became obvious why they hadn't finished it off yet…boarding parties. Fire was now getting more and more sparse as the remaining fighters concentrated at the back of the ship, pushing the enemy fighters away from the bridge and the few other still functional systems, in that moment…

"We just got in…the Planetary Council has given the orders to stand down! I repeat: the planetary Council has called for a ceasefire: all ships are to stand dow-"

The voice of the speaker only echoed over the transmission for a few short words, as the picture suddenly came to live once more, the Rightiousness bleeding oxygen, material and crew from the cut open sections of its sides, while its few remaining batteries fired at the fighters surrounding the ship as it moved forward, the engines flaring up like a bright sun. The ship feel nadir, the fire of the fighters intensifying once more as it became obvious just where the bow of the ship was pointing: at the orbital shipyard.

As the ship picked up speed more and more rescue capsules started to detach from it, pushing off and away from the ship, the few people in it holding on for dear life as they were propelled into the space combat around the ship, where the remaining ARC fighters flew against the crushing supremacy of the newer fighter designs employed against them, trying to push through the defensive formations down at the core of bombers that had once more taken course at the Righteousness. But even as the fighters from the days of the clone wars melted away from the fire of their direct descendants, the Righteousness was able to pick up steep, the smaller attack Cruisers trailing behind and aiming sharply for its aft-side, the large engine blocks glowing with stress. But then a wing of bombers slipped through the defence and aligned themselves with the back of the Righteousness and a small swarm of glowing orbs detached from them, homing in and crushing through the few remaining shields on the back: a shudder running through the whole ship as it seemed to lurch: losing its propulsion…but not its already built up speed.

All over the planet people found themselves bound to the images before them as if by a spell, the image of the crumbling Righteousness pushing through the fire of the enemy, even as its hull withered and the crew not already out of it were dying on the inside. In space there were no sounds and it was in utter silence that the wreck of their Talisman impacted the structures of the dock, tearing through them and setting of carefully planted secondary explosions as it passed…or rather get stuck in the middle: burying itself in the now unshielded target and destroying both in one crash.

As Isabella stood up, she felt numb an icy cold having taken hold of her bones as she stumbled forward as if she was sleep walking. Her hands were stiff as she pushed open the door towards the lobby and her eyes went to the bust that was to her left: sharp and noble features looked back at her…another colour of eyes but the same cheeks and chin she saw in the mirror every day. His uniform and cap were displayed unblemished…just like the time of his funeral: his chest was adorned by the awards of his service: from the Distinguished Flight Medal, to the Distinguished Medal of Imperial Honor, with the Badge of Merit below, the Medal of Conspicuous Gallantry finishing it. His rank sign showed the single grey bar and the two rows of once three red and three blue squares he had held at his death.

She wanted to reach out and touch the sculpture for a moment…. but she quickly pulled herself together once more, her shoulders straightening and her hands moving up to push the moistness that had gathered in the corners of her eyes away. Taking a deep breath, she whispered barely audible:

"Father…. its good you don't have to see this."

Slowly walking down the stairs like in a dream, her heavy boots making a deep sound with every step she took, she stepped into the garden, the blossoms opening to the bright sun that was on the sky: the warmth of the nature so utterly unfitting to the mood of the planet. Taking a deep breath she looked up, like so many other people on the surrounding roofs and above them the victorious invaders descended onto their planet: no fire greeting them, no defenders rushing to their positions to defend their home till their last breath.

Instead they flew low and loud, the people crying and throwing themselves to the floor as the grey and red fighters flew overhead, their distinctive X-shape leaving no doubt about their identity:

The Alliance to Restore the Republic….or as they called themselves now: The Alliance of Free planets, had arrived.