Someone to Stand For

Chapter Two

Wendy's tired of chasing what's beginning to seem like a ghost across Balmorra. She wants progress, and not progress that involves proving herself any further. She's a Jedi; she's automatically worthy of trust by reputation alone. Even then, she's done this "Zenith's" work for the past few days. Nonetheless, she swallows those annoyed feelings down and carries on.

Her and Doctor Cedrax step over the deceased Sith apprentice then stand over the quivering Imperial officer working under Darth Lachris as head of the droid factory, and Wendy wonders what she should do with him. The Jedi in her wants to cuff him and bring him in for questioning; the other half, the human individual, still wants revenge over the Empire and particularly the Sith—while Darth Lachris' arrogant apprentice had been an efficient, emotionless kill, this time her anger bristles and the officer's attitude isn't making it any easier.

"You won't kill me, I'm a prisoner of war, Jedi, and you won't break the Treaty—"

Gaerwen hears the blaster shot, feels it move through the Force, and twists around, igniting her lightsaber and watching Tharan dive to cover from the corner of her vision. She shoots down the blaster shot and it ricochets against the ground.

It's then she senses the other presence in the Force, someone with far more anger and unbridled rage than her own.

"Step aside," a gravely voice says from the rafter just above the three of them.

Gaerwen looks up and sees the lit laze of a sniper rifle, then looks down to see the red dot on her chest. She recognizes the voice—it's Zenith. She can't see anything more than a shadowy figure and the lazor's beam.

"No," she curtly says. "Come out of the shadows, Zenith."

"Not until he's dead." She hears the click of the rifle reloading. "So step aside." A pause. "Please."

Gaerwen looks from the now cowering Imperial back to the figure. She takes a deep breath and asks, "Is it necessary to kill him?"

"He's systematically taken part in rounding up civilians who refuse to work under his harsh conditions, ordered executions to those who protest; so yes, it's necessary to kill him."

"I-I haven't done any of that, that bloody liar just wants to see me dead!"

Wendy nods and sheathes her lightsaber. "I'm sorry Zenith. I didn't know. Go ahead."

She steps aside.

The shot rings out and hits the officer squarely in the head. Wendy closes her eyes and looks back up to the rafter.

"Thank you."

She's taken aback by the words. She sighs. "Are you going to show yourself now?"

"Here isn't safe. Come to the safehouse."

"No, Zenith, come out now! I think I deserve to know who I'm working with."

The figure clicks the safety on his rifle and slings it over his shoulder. He remains knelt there, staring down at her; then, he shifts his position, moving his legs over the ledge, and hops down from the shadows. A Twi'lek who's taller and bigger than her lands before her. His yellow skin is dusty, and his lekku have darker lines going down from the base to the tip. He wears tattered leather clothes with his rifle holster's strap coming across his chest diagonally. The shadows and low lights play off his features, but his purple eyes show no remorse, no pleasantries, and no kindness. The crease lines on his brow further the understanding that he's a veteran of a war he's still fighting.

"Gaerwen Aurell," she extends her hand, hoping he'll take it and the gesture can be over. Her shoulder aches from where the Sith slammed her against the nearby terminal.

Instead Zenith folds his arms across his chest. Wendy frowns.

"Well you can call me Wendy if you'd like instead, it's much more informal."

With a gruff exhale, he gives in and takes her extended hand and shakes it. His grip is firm and his gloves are rough. "Zenith."

She gestures to the two dead Imperials after letting go of his hand. "Lachris will he unhappy, I'm sure. Is there a plan to rebuff against retribution?"

"The plan at this point is that Balmorrans are willing to die for the cause."
Zenith folds his arms across his chest, and Wendy sees no room for changing his opinion or altering his "plan".

"They know what they stand for, what they're fighting for. Don't worry about us. We've managed with less."

Wendy glares at Zenith and sighs. She raises her hands in defeat and concedes. "Fine. I get it. You don't trust me or like me or think I'll be of any help. Well, I'm here to tell you that I am here to help. I don't expect the other two, but we need to work together if we're going to make an actual dent in Lachris' work. Are you really going to deny help?"

Zenith snorts. He glares back at her.

"I take the silence as a no, you're not. So let me be of help. What's our next move?"

"Meet me at the safe house. Not safe to talk here."

"Very well. I'll expect you there."


Outside the droid factory, Tharan laughs and scratches the back of his neck. "Charming, isn't he? I've never met a more diplomatic man. He'll make a great politician someday."

Wendy rolls her eyes. If it weren't for the seriousness of the situation as they trek back to the Resistance base to take a shuttle back to Bugtown, she might have laughed at the idea of someone like Zenith ever making political office.