Star Wars Rebels: Refugees and Rebel Scum

Summary

"In my experience, there's no such thing as luck." – Obi-Wan Kenobi

In war, nothing is certain. Life and death, freedom and slavery, everything hangs in a desperate balance that can be tipped by the slightest shift in destiny. Which is why when a string of circumstance leads to several individuals to a single ship, they have to decide whether it's fate or misfortune that brought them together.

In a universe where it seems everyone is against each other, can these newfound Rebels learn to work together and survive? Are they even Rebels? Or displaced souls like everyone else?

Prologue

They struck quickly, but the Empire usually did.

Quick, cruelly cunning, but not all together too clean as the rows of now homeless prisoners discovered as they stepped over the bodies of their friends and loved ones.

Marched in solemn lines, row by row, the strongest of them were shackled and dragged off. Separated from those they would undoubtedly protect.

The weaker faired slightly better, left unbound only the impressive firearms and unsympathetic views of the Stormtrooper's visors held them hostage in their place.

The monitors were operational almost before anyone knew they were even put up, and soon the near entirety of the planet was droning on the hum of propaganda and sterile music.

"Imperius Unitada ober Totallex."

Empire United Over All.

So much in those few words.

As the sounds of blasters and screams died, and the coerced "citizens" had properly accepted their fate, things began to quiet down somewhat. So as the hangers went up and the ships began coming in, that was it. Once again the Empire had prevailed taken every inch, and plotted for every contingency.

Except for one.

The ship appeared the third month of Empire residency, a large beast of a Mechanized Assault Flyer, long retired from the time of the Clone Wars. It was old, but still solid as anything, impressing those who saw it with both its lifespan and its condition.

And yet no one quite knew where it had come from.

The crews who worked on it said it had been a Rebel ship that had been seized under orders after its crew was tried for treason. The commanders who brought it in said it was a gift, a contribution to the forces by an anonymous donor. Others, whose position allowed them neither the time nor willingness to be curious, whispered during quiet hours that it had been discovered abandoned off the edge of the system.

But whatever the reason, the cause, the circumstance, the ship was there. Looming and silent in its hanger as the world moved on about it. The only thing that was known about it beside it's make and model was its name. Chillingly engraved on the hull were the ancient words: Grotthu.

Slave, in the old Sith tongues as a passing linguistics Droid translated for the wondering crews.

One of the engineers laughed at this, though it was bitter and tasteless as he gestured to the bustling hanger around them.

"We're all slaves in this turning cog wheel!" He said, a mock cheerfulness in his voice. "Only proper this old hunk join us with such a fitting name."

If the ship heard him it made no sign it had, and as the night fell and the activity slowed somewhat, the shift in the air was the only warning there was that something was about to happen.

Courage is a powerful thing. More so courage born of desperation.

Which is why as the five entered the hanger and slipped unnoticed by both residents and their fellow intruders, they should have known it was going to go sideways.

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Author's notes: Hey guys, and you might have read, this is a SYOC story! So while I want to cut this short I hope you enjoy and leave a review! Info, the form and rules will be on my profile if you're interested in submitting a character. I look forward to seeing what you guys can come up with, so until next chapter!