The safe house on Chandrila was near a farming combine. Ylenic It'kla made it a point to go on long walks each day, remembering the peaceful days when he would sometimes visit the Agriculture Corps. Sometimes one or two of the Earthlings would join him on these walks. They all seemed to be in a state of shock.
Slowly, they came down from that shock and the rebel network began to provide them with new identities and pasts. Work was a bit more difficult and many of the adults were likely going to need some training for using basic machines. Luckily there were plenty of night classes around Chandrila. The Earthlings were enrolled as people who were getting extra education from under-developed worlds or ones that the war had severely ravished and rebuilding had not yet begun on for some reason or another.
Many of the Earthlings also seemed to know a disturbing number of things about the galaxy; the Clone Wars and subsequent destruction of the Jedi Order for instance. Most disturbing though was that all refused to go to Alderaan. New identities took them to planets all over the galaxy, he had explained each planet himself and admitted there were few places that would be more comfortable or welcoming than Alderaan. But these people refused to go there.
Most expressed a wish to join a Rebel Alliance to combat the Empire.
It'kla sighed, wondering if the Force had really played a wild card on them. If they were to combat the Empire, numbers would be needed and these people were mostly willing. But they stuck out sorely. They didn't understand how the galaxy worked. Or that there was no Rebel Alliance. Yet.
It'kla's lightsaber had rarely ever been ignited, it was his pride as a Consular. But the noises these people made, demanding to stand and fight, was igniting something in his own blood. Maybe it was all the years he had spent in hiding while throughout the galaxy, Jedi and Force sensitive alike were killed.
One of the skills of a negotiator was understanding when a person or a group couldn't be reasoned with. The Empire was past that point; he could easily see that.
Perhaps it was time to mobilize, much like Padawan Tano had and Knight Jarrus with his Padawan did now.
Those thoughts bounced in Knight It'kla's head as he returned to the safe house and was almost surprised to see another emissary there.
The human woman smiled distantly at It'kla, even offering a slight bow.
"Master Jedi," she began but Ylenic waved her off.
"I was no Master," he informed her gently. "Who are you and why are you here?"
"I would be Pooja Naberrie, the Senator of Naboo. Senator Mothma informed me of there being some people needing aid, and we have several vacancies on Naboo."
Ylenic understood and stepped back, allowing the Senator to talk to the various refugees individually. Naboo was also a good planet for many of them to take up residence on; the people were generally good and kind but didn't lack fire. Perhaps it would be a better destination for these people who rejected Alderaan.
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Saying that their courses would start immediately following Orientation had not been an exaggeration. It had been quite literal.
As soon as the unveiled Krystal Aaron had been dragged off to begin her new post as a prison guard, the first instructor had shouted for Alpha group to follow him. The second instructor gave a few seconds for the students in that group to file out before calling for Bravo group.
This continued for several minutes until Echo group was called and Tara rose automatically, determined not get separated or lost on her first day. Across from her, Andrew also rose and Tara felt a wave of relief.
There were about 30 people in Echo group Tara determined as they left the mess hall, following the instructor. Several of the other groups peeled off into buildings before they entered one themselves. The instructor led them to a hall that had three doors.
"I'm Dr. Fujikawa," the man informed them shortly. "My assistants are Medics Bilmore, Faulkner, and Waters. For right now, these will be your classrooms. Every day, without fail, you will report here unless you are called elsewhere. Miss a single class otherwise and you'll be on the next bus out. Your name will be on the door of your classroom."
The medics move past the doctor to the doors and let themselves in. As the doctor stepped aside, the students followed their lead.
The lists were not in alphabetical order was Tara's first discovery when she found her name wasn't on the first sheet. Ten people were listed and were likely chosen randomly.
Her name wasn't on the second list either, so after quickly confirming on the list, she entered the third classroom. It wasn't so much a classroom as a lab was her first observation. There were some tables and stools around the room, the largest being the table in the front.
The medic, she wasn't sure which one, was setting out supplies on the front table.
"Everyone, gather round," the medic called, a man who looked younger than her. He counted the heads as everyone stepped up to the table. "I'm medic Faulkner. We'll learn each other's names during lunch, but right now we need to get started. First thing: antisepsis."
Tara watched the man hold up a bottle of iodide and her eyes caught on who she was thankfully in the same class as. Andrew.
Tara mentally whispered a silent prayer of thanks to a whatever higher power had ensured she had what was likely the closest person she currently had to a friend so near as the lesson on antiseptic techniques and materials began.
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Getting Grand Moff Tarkin arrested and brought to Coruscant caused a number of differing reactions.
On one hand, a number of Moffs journeyed to Coruscant in order to witness the proceedings. There were many murmurs on many of them hoping to gain favor due to his apparent 'fall from grace' and gain the title of Grand Moff for themselves.
A number of beings hoped he would be found guilty just for the sake of personal grievances or because of his extremely harsh tactics. Embezzlement in the Empire could land someone in the spice mines of Kessel even more easily than murder could.
The most disturbing group that emerged though were those who practically worshipped Tarkin and his doctrine. This last group seemed to be entirely human, the race that benefitted the most from the Tarkin Doctrine and its adoption by Imperial society. They were also mostly military and high level citizens.
As Mon Mothma approached the Senate building, the last group seemed to be swarming there. Men and women in uniform jeered and sneered at her, shouting demands that she retract her 'false accusations' and allow the Grand Moff to return to his 'noble' work on the Outer Rim.
It was a relief to enter the Senate building that day, the security guards holding back the crowd outside since they didn't have an invitation, business, or clearance to enter. Senators, representatives, and invited guests milled about the hall that morning, slowly heading towards the lifts that would take them to the floor of their designated repulsorpod.
Bail Organa had arrived by other means and she noted that he had brought his daughter, Leia. The girl was making noises about wanting to run for Senator herself, try to assist in making a difference. Bail was proud of the intelligent but well-meaning rebel he had raised.
Mothma had some suspicions about who the girl's mother was but never dared to ask.
She noted a moment later that there was a small group of Bothans with the pair and that Bail's smile twitched in her direction. A clear indication for her to approach.
Mothma slowly approached the group, well aware that they were definitely being watched currently. She did her best to appear to be a somewhat bored diplomat approaching a friend who was with unfamiliar company.
"Bail," she stated in greeting upon joining the group. "And you brought your lovely daughter as well!"
Leia's hair was wound up into a pair of buns and her dress was a style that was slowly becoming popular amongst the female delegates. She offered Mon Mothma a nod and small smile while Bail greeted her warmly, she didn't miss the distress in his eyes though.
"Mothma, so good to see you," he replied as he offered his hand in a traditional Chandrilan gesture of friendly greeting rather than attempting to kiss her cheek as was Alderaan's tradition amongst friends. "I just found out these gentlemen have never savored Alderaanian Rose Wine so I had to invite them to try a glass. Would you care to join us?"
Something important that they couldn't dare to share here, Mon realized, though Bail was known to invite delegates and guests over for wine. No one would view this as an odd gesture by the Alderaan Senator.
"Certainly, shall I bring a fruit and cheese platter? I have some lovely day berries fresh from Chandrila this morning."
Bail laughed. "Those berries will show up the wine! But you know I can't say no to them and cheeses either."
Mothma smiled despite a grain of worry being added to the pile she already had growing. 'Fruit' was their code word for people in trouble, 'cheese' meaning a high ranking person. Regardless of whether Bail accepted or rejected her offer, when he mentioned the foods in his response, it was a clue of what they were going to be discussing. Nonspecific, no clues other than that.
Leia followed their interaction with sharp eyes and Mothma wondered how much the girl knew.
"Has there been any word on that Hyperlane they want to redirect?" Bail asked nonchalantly and Mothma shook her head as a chime echoed through the hall. Immediately, all parties began to head for the lifts.
There was no sign of Grand Moff Tarkin.
As Mothma settled into the Chandrila repulsorpod, she continued to scan the area. There were far more observers than normal in the public pods, some of them so crammed that two had actually engaged safety measures and refused to move until the load was reduced. Leia joined her father in the Alderaan pod while the Bothans headed for the pod that the Bothawui Senator had already settled into.
The pod reserved for parties being questioned was notably empty.
Noise began to pick up as the Senators and delegates filled their places in the hall, all beings noticing the lack of a particular Moff who was supposed to be facing the charges against him. The murmurs increased as the appointed time approached.
Mon Mothma felt her blood run cold when Sate Pestage and Ars Dangor appeared for the assembly, both taking the podium seat that had been held by the Supreme Chancellor and his aides, the middle seat remaining empty since it was reserved for the Emperor whenever he deigned to appear, an event that had not occurred for over a decade.
The two who looked to be heading the assembly today had always seemed dark and greasy to Mothma, most of the people she knew agreed. There was no denying their intelligence, but they viewed almost all others as far beneath them. Grand Moff Tarkin was one of the few they viewed as a peer, meaning above those that had been elected; such as the Senate.
Mothma felt her eyes narrow as Arns Dangor regarded the hall with a superior look, going so far as to sniff in disgust or disregard completely those who were not human. He knew better than to make even a small gesture towards the Bothans but showed no such restraint for Trandoshans or the Mon Calamari. When his eyes landed on Bail Organa, the man's smirk turned absolutely vile.
Mothma glanced at her chrono and decided to move ahead, activating her comm so that all parties in the hall could hear her.
"It is now time to convene this session of the Imperial Senate," she stated, calling the hall to order. Both Dangor and Pestage gave her sharp looks. "The reason for this session today is solely to hear the testimony of Grand Moff Tarkin, to hear his explanations on the various charges that he has been accused of and to determine if he should be made to stand trial."
"That won't be necessary today, Lady Mothma," Dangor's voice rang out from the center podium. "His excellency, the Emperor, has requested that Grand Moff Tarkin appear before him today and present his case. He will of course allow the Grand Moff to answer any questions the Senate may have when this assembly convenes again in two weeks."
Dangor's smile looked especially oily as he dismissed the Senate.
"That is not a decision for the Emperor!" a young voice called out and eyes all over the hall turned to see that the young princess of Alderaan had raised her voice. "Matters of justice and law are the matters of the courts and the Senate! There is clear evidence that Governor Tarkin has embezzeled-"
Bail managed to grab a hold of Leia's arm and gave it a quick squeeze, causing the girl to send him a sharp look, but it was obvious she understood.
Dangor's attention was on the girl though, his unpleasant smile only slightly dimmed as his black hair fell behind a shoulder.
"Your fire is refreshing young one, but misguided at the moment. There is proof that Grand Moff Tarkin was making use of a large number of resources, but as to whether or not he broke the law has yet to be determined. If he was constructing something for the protection of the Empire for instance, then this would be completely legal and the Senate would have delayed him in this endeavor and wasted the most valuable resource; time."
"And what of the children Omwat?"
"Qwi Xux is a well-regarded researcher and weapons developer. The other children taken failed the tests and were removed from the education program that Grand Moff Tarkin graciously included them in. I would assume they returned to their homes."
Leia looked ready to argue further and probably would had Bail not given her arm another squeeze.
"Seeing as how there are no other objections, the Senate is dismissed until the next scheduled assembly in two weeks."
Pestage and Dangor did not wait around for any questions, instead leaving immediately. Mothma stood as well and headed for the lifts. She met Bail and Leia enroute to the lifts and fell in step beside him. His face was grim and he offered her a small nod, meaning this session had gone exactly as he had anticipated.
"How about we forego the fruit and cheese, I think I could really use a glass of wine," Mothma stated dryly.
"We have some starblossom and feta," Bail replied before his eyes found Meena Tills. "Would you care to join us as well, my friend?"
"Most pleased to," was the Mon Calamari responded and the group set out, each taking their individual transportation back to the apartments of the Senators.
Leia sat with them as Bail opened the first bottle of wine, the Bothans arriving as he began to fill the glasses.
It shouldn't have been surprising that the group did a thorough scan of the apartment with small devices on their wrists as they got comfortable, but the group could admit they were. Usually the Bothans were more discreet.
"Thank you," one of the small group said as one of them nodded that the space was clear as Bail handed him a glass. "I can't say I've had wine like this before. We should try to do business with you more often, Viceroy Organa."
"Hopefully with good news," Bail replied as he passed out the glasses of wine, even offering one to Leia.
"One should wish," Meena added as she accepted the wine as well.
The Bothans looked grim and the group knew something was wrong.
"We have no idea what was being built by Tarkin. His highest officers are keeping quiet and those directly involved seem to have disappeared. But we do have some indications of the size. Despayre has been almost completely cleared out, prisoners that are there now are all newly interred, arriving within two weeks. There were also signs of that was a large armada in the system, blocking all traffic."
"All gone?" Leia asked sharply.
"Mostly. There is still a division guarding Despayre, preventing breakouts. But millions of prisoners are gone as are the guards and anyone who worked there."
Mothma glanced at Bail, both knowing this meant that Tarkin was likely buckled down for the long haul now. But given the harsh conditions he was notorious for, even several million enslaved workers were not likely to last long.
"Any idea on the size of his project?" Meena asked as she eyed her glass, still full.
One of the Bothans, a female, produced a datapad. "Although your agents found enough of the resources to build a number of star destroyers, it barely scratched the surface of how many resources were absconded."
Bail accepted the datapad after setting his glass of wine aside. Activating the screen, the tables for the resources the Bothans had managed to trace to Tarkin's project came up automatically. Mothma moved to stand beside him a moment later as the shock became evident on his face.
The numbers were beyond staggering. It wasn't a couple million tons of durasteel, it was easily trillions!
"Estimations stand that if the amount of materials currently had, Tarkin could either be building an enormous fleet, possibly consisting of several of the Super-class star destroyers that have been suggested, or a single station the size of a large asteroid or a small moon."
Meena's large eyes blinked as she was handed the datapad, an impatient Leia looking over her arm. The Mon Calamari Senator drained her glass of wine as she handed the datapad back. "Doubtless this is to be some sort of weapon meant to promote Tarkin's doctrine of fear."
"A gesture that will only cause more to want to rebel," Bail added as he accepted the datapad back.
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The medical program had begun two weeks previous. Evaluations had also begun immediately. Every day, regardless of what was happening, the students were watched and evaluated by the medics and the doctor who floated from room to room, watching every student perform, full blown skill checks seemed to occur every other day.
Each day, regardless of the day, the classes began and ran for close to 10 hours with a short break for lunch. Students practiced their techniques every day, learned everything the medics had to teach, repeating it over and over until the movements were second nature. Tara was grateful of that.
When hearing that they would be working on violent offenders, Tara had been terrified that she might be forced to cause harm or do pointless operations. Those fears proved to be mostly unfounded; the prisoners caused damage enough to each other and themselves.
Which led to where she and Andrew currently were: attending to a prisoner who had been involved in a fight. He had a number of cuts and wounds that needed to be cleaned and either stitched up or bound. The weapon his opponent had used had been a rusty piece of metal. They were being observed by Dr. Fujikawa.
Tara was cleaning one wound on the man's chest, thankful that he was sedated, a task they had had to perform themselves as well. Dr. Fujikawa had handed them a chart to look up the type of sedative to use and the amount.
The cut was a nasty, jagged thing. It was obvious that whatever implement that had been used to cause this had broken in the wound since Tara was removing rusty shards with a pair of tweezers. Andrew was prepping saline to clean the wound once all the large and visible pieces had been removed.
The pair worked quickly and efficiently as a team, Andrew cleaning the wound as Tara tilted the patient. He repeated multiple times before they were satisfied with the cleanliness of the wound. Dr. Fujikawa inspected their work as Tara prepared to place the sutures and Andrew pulled out a syringe and chart to give the patient a tetanus shot.
When the doctor gave an approving nod, Tara began to stitch the wound shut as Andrew administered the shot then grabbed his own suture set and went to work on a previously cleaned cut on the man's leg. It wasn't big and he quickly moved on to the only other cut that they believed needed stitches before beginning the binding of the man's other wounds.
Tara focused completely on her sutures that were being placed on the chest wound. It was a bit tedious, but she was good at it, one of the reasons she was applying them now. It took 22 stitches to close the wound on the man's chest and Tara took great care in tying the knots of the stitches before moving on the binding what few wounds were on her side of the man that Andrew couldn't reach.
Her fingers stopped over the prisoner's wrist, her fingers feeling something beneath the skin, which felt hot to the touch.
"He might have a broken wrist," she observed automatically as her eyes noted a small amount of swelling that was beginning.
"As with the middle finger of the opposite hand," Andrew responded.
Dr. Fujikawa stepped up at that moment, his hand sweeping over the wrist as well. "We'll confirm with X-ray. Finish up."
"Yes sir," both students responded automatically and Tara applied ointment on the few cuts on the man's hand, checking his fingers as she did so. There didn't seem to be any other breaks.
The doctor was nodding at their work, not really smiling but he wasn't pointing out any faults as they washed up.
The two left as two soldiers came to retrieve the prisoner and Tara glanced down the hall of the medical center where all wounds and illnesses were treated. Student medics moved about, most attending to prisoners while a few tended to soldiers and guards.
"You'll both be reporting to the front desk tomorrow rather than the classroom," Dr. Fujikawa informed them as they moved down the hall. "You'll be moving to the next course level. You'll be EMTs at least very soon."
"Thought we already were," Andrew muttered as the doctor peeled away and the pair headed for the exit. The evening was still warm as they stepped into the open air and headed for the dining hall for dinner. It remained open until midnight in order to keep up with the long hours of the students.
"How far are you into the practice programs for disease recognition?" Tara asked.
Andrew shrugged in response. "I put in a few hours every chance I get, but you know how it is. I'm whipped after each day. We're dealing with more than I think any of us thought we would."
Tara didn't deny it. Med school usually seemed to involve patient care after you were two years into the program, not meeting your first bleeding patient the day you had your first practice with placing sutures.
That was part of the testing though, their original class had already been decimated as classes were reorganized. Those who needed more practice were removed and replaced by those who didn't. Faulkner had told them on the second day that that would be how they determined who would move ahead first and ultimately specialize. There wasn't time to stick to normal class schedules.
