Cover modified from Star wars Propaganda Poster:

See end for Authors Note:

[Useful words : Kriff is swear word in SWU- see wookipedia, Frell is curse from the show Farscape]

[Takes place sometime after Startkiller Base's destruction of the Hosnian system in 34 ABY (or 0 ASI if your using the new Disney dating system)]

Chapter 1: The Resistance

Kriff! It stunk! The strong smell of the slurry pit stung his eyes and nose and burned his lungs. It would take all his will not to gag. He was not used to the outer settlements. There was very little in way of protection out here from the harsh sun, and it only helped to amplify the smell of waste. He wanted to be far from this place as fast as he could, back to the safety of the Northern regions, back to the main settlements. No; he was here for a reason, and he would not back down. Pulling his kerchief closer to his nose he would take a deep breath through his mouth before moving to approach the figure in the distance.
She was middle age, or at least she looked it. Her silver hair tied back coiled at the base of her neck. She wore no mask, only a kerchief around her neck. Why she did not have it around her mouth and nose was a mystery. How she put up with the smell he could only guess, she must have grown accustomed to it.

He watched in silence as she pumped nutrients into the heavily stripped soil. He wondered why she used no floater or droid to do the task. Muck spreading was a shit job, in the literal sense, and physical, and doing it by hand with an injection pump and gravitation board just seemed so inefficient.

"You know that's the Order's fault, right?" He asked her, his head tilting. The order had supported the use of synthetically modified crops; high yield but extremely harsh on the soil. He gave no name, no indication of who he was or why he was here, talk first, introductions after. She'd know the why soon enough.

"It's not really a big deal." The woman would shrug as she reloaded her pump, before moving to the next spot, her boots, which attached to her coveralls, would make a squelching sound as she did so. He hadn't recognised what she was growing, then again, he hardly knew what the plants looked like premarket and processing.

He shuddered at the sound and would move to join her, wincing as his own boots now stunk of waste as he stepped over the short gate and into the now slurry filled soil.

Her dismissal of the problem made him frown, she had gotten used to the poor conditions, or so he would assume.

"It's not right though" he would point out, "The Order is taking a cut of your crops, and I just heard today on the holo' that they are starting discussions about raising crop taxes another 5% soon!"

Hard working farmers should not be forced to give 10% (soon to be 15% if the Order got its way) of their hard earned crop to the Order. Life was bad enough for these people, surely the woman would reveal herself to be supportive of the cause? he expected a reaction from her and watched for one to come.

His words did spark something, as she put the pump down next to the slurry container on the grav board. Her words to come were nothing like he had expected.

"You really don't get it" her voice was monotone, but the emphasis was clear.

What is there to get! His own voice rose as he spoke "They take and take! Can't they see We are suffering!?" A scoff escaped her lips as he spoke of we.

He continued "The New Republic would not allow this!" What he wanted to say was the resistance would not allow this, but it was too early to start mentioning them. "The Order sells you Synthetic crops, then they demand a yield of them, you are being unfairly doubled taxed."

This time she turned to face him,

"The order helps us farmers, they provide us grains resistant to disease and pestilence. They only want to help us yet people like you resist it and spread lies."

This was a turn of events to him. He had not expected that a Farmer would be sympathetic to the Order. It was wrong, surely, they must have broken her so greatly that she believed the lies and propaganda being spread across the galaxy.

He sighed, using a fallen crop stalk he would attempt to wipe the muck off his boots.

" I hate to burst your bubble Ma'am but the Order cares for no one. Just look at what happened to all those people in the Hosnian system." He tried to control his tone, but the subject brought rage to him. He had not personally known anyone in the system, nor had he ever been, but the death of billions was death all the same.

The woman shrugged wiping her hands on her coveralls, "What about them? I'm not from the Hosnian system, it made no difference to me and my life"

"you know its gone right, destroyed, frelled, blasted out of kriffing existence!" He was shouting now, angry at her lack of sympathy and lack even the slightest emotion. Even a farmer would have heard the news, it was everywhere. This was a new one for his book

"Again, not my problem and if you were smart you would make it not your problem either." Her voice steady but the tone was clear. Don't mess with the Order.

"You can't deny that they are monsters though! They kill and steal children!" His voice raised. She remained silent, he could not read her, she had her head to the side and gaze set past him, yet her mouth remained pressed thinly, blank stares from an equally blank face.

After a long moment of silence, she spoke: "You're from a big city, aren't you?"

This took him a bit by surprise, "ah. From the main settlement in the" She cut him off before he could finish.

"Don't actually care" she shook her head taking a moment to readjust her hair, "You city folk don't know Kriff!"

He narrowed his eyes and took another burning breath of foul air. He was getting tired of this game, either she was going to answer what he asked, or she wasn't, this avoidance of answers was growing old. "I don't know what brainwashing they have done, I'm only trying to help you, don't you see that?"

This time he was sure he heard a repressed laugh.

"City folk are all the same you think you have it bad? You have food to eat, a place to sleep. Your children will not starve, they have a future, you city folk want more. Never content with what you got. Do you really think life's so unfair, that you have nothing?" The woman's voice carried an acidic edge, the hatred clear.

"We have no say, no freedom! The New Republic gives people a say!" He tried to maintain calm, to keep his cool, he already had an outburst, and he rather not repeat it. Compared to the Order the New Republic was a godsend, yet nothing he said seemed to convince her, in fact, she had scoffed at his words.

"Freedom does not exist," she stated firmly. Turning her back to him to once again take the pump in hand, ready to continue work, though for now she only held it. "You really think its best for thousands to come together and decide what's best for all? People are useless, each planet only cares for themselves. The many are unable to agree on simple things, If that's freedom, it's a piss poor joke."

This time his voice rose, not in an angry way but, unable to maintain calm, "The New Republic represents everyone! The resistance could help free you from the Order and have a say!"

"The New Republic may have so called representation but its representation in name only, they squabbled and look where that got them… at least they are silenced now, forever gone never to squabble again." Her words stung him like needles stabbing into his skin. Had she just referred to the death of so many in such a casual way? He misinterpreted her words, that was the only explanation. "And I don't need your pity and your terrorist resistance. It's better to have a single rule who can actually make decisions that lead to real change, then multiple ones that can't do kriff:"

He felt the anger drain, shifting into a cloud of confusion. He had not expected a farmer to be so political, not like this. He was regretting coming out the outer settlements. He longed for clean air, and a ground not filled with actual shit.

"I don't understand why you support them! Everyone knows they take children of the… from those who have so little"

"Poor, you mean? It is no shame to have nothing." Her words held contempt in them.

He remained silent watching as she began to start the pump. The smell once again burning his senses. He clearly had upset her, the tone in her voice had made that loud and clear, but he had not expected what was to come next.

As she moved to the next section of land, she erupted in laughter. He didn't understand what was so funny, nothing they had discussed had been a joke.

"The Order does not steal children! Kriff no! We give them willingly! My generation has no say in our future, born in poverty destined to live and die in it. But now, no longer. No longer is it a shame for a woman to carry a child she knows she cannot care for, or of a man who spoke sweet words full of lies. No longer the need to try and terminate the life, the Order cares for mothers and compensates well. It's a chance for better lives, many here already have children and we cannot feed any more, The Order provides for them and we are compensated for it." The words sounded like a rally speech, raising hope, but the content seemed wrong, twisted. It made his stomach drop.

"So you sell your own" His voice shook as he spoke, this was all too much for one day. Was it any better? The way the woman spoke, it seemed better to bring a child into the world and give it to the Order, then to kill prematurely in shame. But, by giving children to the Order these people were only keeping a war going, an endless supply of soldiers that would fight against the New Republic and the Resistance.

Looking up at her now, he took in the wrinkles and the sunspots she had and wondered, had she perhaps given a child to the Order? Perhaps she was not as old as he had thought, hard work, after all, could age a person years prematurely.

"Do you have children?" she replied to his words harshly, her voice much steadier than his own had been.

He shook his head; he did not have any. He was young still, but more so, how could he justify a child in the current state of affairs.

"You would never understand. You don't know what it's like to not be able to take care of your child. To see them die of starvation because I could not feed them, He was just mere months old, and like that gone." He heard the faint sputtering of the pump shutting down as the woman's face fell downwards. " My husband skipped meals so I could eat, to produce the milk needed to feed our son, for whatever use that got us, in the end, I could not feed him. It's a mark I will carry to the grave. And only a few months later my husband was dead as well."

He didn't know what to say. What could he say? Nothing was going to bring a child back. And so he said nothing as she continued on.

"In the end the 'verse got the last laugh, to find I was with child again, and If the Order had been around when my second son was born, I'd happily have given him to them. You think we are sell-outs because we hand our children to the Order, but your wrong! No child is alone in the Order, they grow up with a family of thousands, they don't need to be burdened on where they came from, everyone is equal, the circumstances of their birth is not an issue, no Child starves,

"Without the Order, children are left to die alone, unable to care for themselves, or worse sold into slavery after their parents die. Children in the Order never are alone." He now noticed the pump had fallen to the ground and she was clenching a fist. She looked at him, directly into his eyes. Her words had been unnerving. He felt nauseated, and it was not just the smell of the slurry.

"Where was your Glorious New Republic when they Great Storm came, when flooding killed the crops, washed out our homes, leaving us with nothing" He did not miss the way her hand rose and shook as she spoke, nor the implication, your New Republic, not our, not hers. "Where were they when people pleaded for evacuations that never came?" Again he was at loss for words as she shook her head turning away from him "In truth, the New Republic did not care! In fact, they were more than happy to let those in the slums die." Her tone was angry and full of accusation. She had her head lowered to the ground, her back to him, masking whatever expression she held.

He knew of the events she spoke; it had happened some years before his birth. The Great Storm of 6 ABY (28 BSI) had devastated much of the southern regions, many lost their lives and the loss of the southern croplands led to widespread famine across the world. But her words were not entirely true, evacuations had taken place, his mother's family had been evacuated from one of the larger southern settlements to a district settlement in the north.

"Evacuations did take place though! And they built camps" he had learned about this in school, that the planetary government with help from the New Republic helped to rebuild homes and provide aid.

She spun on her heel whipping her head up, the soil below letting out a squelching sound as she did so. Now face to face he could see the anger it held. Anger that even he could not argue against being justified. "Only the cities were evacuated: like I said, why would they care about those in the slums." The sarcasm in her words carried weight. History had said it had been down to the poor conditions and overcrowding that led to so many deaths when the floods came, but he never read about the slums. If they had been cleared or not, he was unable to say.

Trying to think of the good he had been taught he would genuinely ask "What about the aid shipments?"

"Aid shipments?" He could see her eyes roll, "Help was provided for only as long as people cared, a few weeks off the 'net and we were forgotten, left to starve." This was not the history he knew. There had to be a mistake, yet he could find no reason for her to lie. He opened his mouth to respond, only for the wind to pick up and the smell of the field caused him to waver. Staying silent he tied the kerchief tighter. As he remained silent the woman carried on.

"Even after the storm, we had crop failure after crop failure, though I'm sure you never noticed." He could feel the acid drip as she spoke. He knew from the holos' that the past decade had been hard of crops, droughts and the like, but it was better now, right? There was always enough in shops that he never had given it much thought. How long had food been a problem? Was food growth still a problem? It was odd, something that should have affected his life, yet never had.

"But the drought ended years ago.." His voice low, words mainly spoken to himself.
"If not draught then pestilence, disease, sometimes both at once" she motioned to the pump and the fields, "you said earlier that this was not right?"

The look of confusion was evident as the woman clarified "the synthetic crops."

Ah, he would bite his lip, "They strip the soil, causing more work for you in the long run" he was not a farmer, and he had no idea how planting and crop nutrition took place. All he knew was the synthetic crops gave a high yield and stripped the soil they grew in.

"The synthetic crops were the best thing that could have happened to our farms, we no longer worry about what disaster will strike our crops next." She reached for the pump and began to resume her work in silence. He failed. The reason he was here and he kriffing messed it all up. He should just leave, let the madwoman carry on with her work and go back to the inner settlements, where the air was breathable, and he could forget the ravings of the fanatic. But no the stupid voice in the back of his head still had some fight. He stood there watching her work for a few minutes, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to come up with what to say.

Today had been much harder than he had anticipated and he struggled to remember where had had originally tried to steer the conversation.

"you speak of the hardships you've faced with crop failures, why should it be fair to tax you when your only just back on your feet?" even he was not believing the words he spoke.

"you think the crop tax unfair? Who do you think feeds the children of the Order. It's a small price to pay, knowing our food will help save thousands of children galaxy wide.

When the Resistance attacks the Order, when they destroy ships, do you know how many children they slaughter? You still think the Resistance can help us? If they truly wanted to help, they would leave us rim worlds alone, stop attacking ships and let the Order be. You call the Order monsters yet look at the group you so aspire to join, terrorists" He blinked. Terrorists. The word made him feel ill, ashamed. Of course, he had heard others call the Resistance this in the past but those were just words. He had always been able to justify their actions in the past.

" Oh don't give me that look," She began pointing the nozzle of the pump directly at him. The slurry still dripping from it. "We both know what this is," she would use her free hand to gesture to the two of them "you come out to the outer colonies, rile up support, make yourself feel justified to join a terrorist group."

He wanted to protest, yet that was exactly why he had come here, to inspire others to not be content with the Order, to show them things could be better, what a load of kriff, from the moment he spoke to her things had gone downhill.

"Not the first to try, probably not the last, but at least you never provided me with a name, smart that." She would make a clapping sound against her thigh with one hand, mocking him. "And so the wanna' be terrorist heads home, as a failure, a nobody." In the end he was nameless, and all for the better, without a name he could not easily be reported.

But why did it hurt so bad? He knew he would not be able to convince everyone he spoke to.. He knew that. But hearing the woman out, he almost… Kriffing frell this was stupid, he knew it was stupid, but for a moment, for a short moment, he had found himself agreeing with her words, agreeing that the New Republic was a failure, that the Order could be better. And that scared him. How low the New Republic and the Resistance had fallen in his eyes momentarily. He would recover, freedom was real, despite what the twisted words had told him.

How low the mighty had fallen.

AN: (This next part will be told from the woman's point of view as well - every story has more than one side to it.- either as a companion story, or as a second chapter, as of yet undecided.)

Read the following if you want the background- scroll to end if you want preview of the story from the woman's perspective.) As always any comments are greatly appreciated

The story is purposely vague on character appearance, as I want this to be able to have taken place on almost any of the rim worlds -outer - inner or even mid rim, you decide.

The Great Storm of 6ABY is of my own invention

Much of the initial feedback i received on this story from the friends who saw earlier drafts said they felt wrong hearing the woman's description and belief that giving up her child to the Order would be for the best. I honestly hope i was able to evoke similar discomfort from you readers?

This story came out of a twisted thought i had while reading Claudia Grey's Star wars Book " Lost Stars". In the book one of the Imperial cadets, Nash Windrider, is from Alderaan and after its destruction instead of turning away from the empire, he becomes even more fanatic and loyal to it!

I have considered taking it two ways, either that Nash's loyalty and fanaticism is an act done in order to keep ISB off his back, or the more disturbing option (and the one I personally believe) - that they broke him, and that he now truly believed in the propaganda of the Empire. It made me question, just what would need to have happened to make someone accept the clearly evil side, to support the First Order despite its wrongs, what would it take for the everyday man, you or me?

I want more fics like this out there, that flesh out cannon, and give insight to the people not represented in the movies: the everyday people:

The story from the woman's perspective is not complete and still in early stage (have around 1,500 typed so far), but i can say this: it will run around 1000 or so longer than this current chapter.

Sorry for the long AN

Extended Preview: (subject to change in final )

Some days she listens in the distance as the fanatics, the wannabe terrorists, give their rallies. hear what rhetoric they want to say. Its all nonsense of course, She knows this yet often she doesn't have the energy to give them her mind. Usually the fields are full of others, men women and sometimes, though rarely - a child, working day in day out to make ends meet.

But today, she is alone. Planting season had come and gone, as had the main harvest. All that remained now were the ones too small to harvest, left for the hope they would still grow that needed extra before new crops were seeded.

The sound of a shuttle overhead and distant thump of it landing had alerted her that she was not fully alone in the isolated farm. But for now the shuttle and the newcomer, or newcomers would go unfocused, her attention was on fertilising her field, to allow the next batch of crops to grow. Sure injecting the slurry by hand pump was labour intensive, but droids were unreliable for the task. Not that they could not carry it out, but droids were nicked and parts stolen fairly often, it was easier to do it herself.

In the distance she would spot someone leave the shuttle and from the corner of her vision she would take appearance in.

Even from the distance she could see he was young, kerchief tied around his face as if the air out here could kill him. She had to roll her eyes, the man, just a boy really, clearly had never been in a situation like this, his coat far to clean, and she would bet his boots were just as ill equipped for the land. She hated the young ones, they believed any lies they were told, whatever New Republic propaganda that was mused on the 'net. They spoke without knowledge, rallying people with lies. Sure some of the seasonal migrant workers who came to help with planting and harvest would sometimes sap up the words as truth, but they were young, foolish and often refugees from another region, people who knew nothing.

She knew he was approaching, but she kept herself focused on her task, perhaps he was only a lost traveller asking for direction – she doubted this of course, but entertained the thought.

Standing at the gate the young man finally spoke "You know that's the Order's fault, right?" his accent indicating he was from the Northern regions.

Next story/ update will be in next few weeks. Covid-19 lockdown should give me plenty of time to write.