Jag awoke to the sound of a speeder approaching the window beneath his old room in his parents house. He had always been a light sleeper; his time in the military taught him that enemies don't necessarily consider if their opponent is trying to rest when they attack. Plus, an almost lifetime spent in military bases and army cots had gotten him used to somewhat uncomfortable sleeping conditions, so he never quite felt at home in his old bed, which felt like he was sleeping on air. He blinked his eyes a moment to adjust his vision to the darkness, and stayed put so to not make any noise. He could hear the faint whisperings of someone outside.
Then a window nearby slid open, and he heard a voice coming from the room next to him. Luna's room. Jag rolled out of bed quietly and positioned himself against his own window. The people from the speeder were speaking again, "...fake...great...'Maxxier'... hurry..."
Jag couldn't quite make out his sisters response, but he got the gist of it when she jumped out of the second story window and landed soundlessly on the ground some two meters below. Jag peered out the window and saw her jump into the backseat of the speeder and watched it cruise down the deserted street, turning in the direction of the downtown district.
Jag was already half way dressed before he stopped to consider his actions. Luna is a grown adult, by Chiss standards. If she wants to do something, I can't exactly stop her. But then again, Luna was going to an over twenty-one club, and she was barely sixteen. The 'Maxxier' was a somewhat popular club even when Jag had lived on this planet, but had a bad reputation for attracting all kinds of criminals and lowlifes. Jag doubted very much that much had changed since then.
Jag finished dressing and silently crept through the house. He scribbled down a note saying he went out because he couldn't sleep, and borrowed one of the family speeders. He punched in the proper access codes, and went on his way down the familiar streets to the club.
Thankfully, due to the late hour, even for club goers, the line was very small. Jag was content to wait it out, especially considering the only alternative would be to pull out his military ID and cause a scene. He dropped that idea the second he came up with it. It's not like I have any official standing on Csilla, anyway. Might even get arrested for impersonating law enforcers, he thought sourly. He got to the front of the line and ran his civilian ID through the scanning droid. His picture came up on the screen for a second, and Jag grimaced; the picture hadn't been updated in four years. The droid gave him authorization and gave him a quick rundown of the rules in both the native Chiss language, which was virtually extinct, and Basic. Jag nodded and pretended to listen. The droid finally allowed him entry, and brought up the guard rail that was in Jag's path.
The club interior was darker than Jag would've liked, for he found that if it were not for the Chiss' naturally bright red eyes, he would not be able to keep himself from bumping into other people. The darkness also limited his chances of finding his sister. Jag surveyed what he could see of the club; one side of the club was dedicated to the enormous bar that had a crowd of people pushing to get to the front of the line. Further into the club, there was a dais that Jag assumed was used for live bands. Considering from how small it was, he figured that this club mainly played pre-recorded music.
Jag started to move through the club, trying to get a glimpse of everyone without making it seem like he was staring. Judging from some of the looks he received, he didn't think he achieved it very well. I'm going to have to get the Wraiths or Iella Antilles to get me some undercover training. Jag stopped when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
A Chiss with a shaved head and strange tattoo on his neck was behind him, a small grin on his face. Jag looked at him expectantly. "What?"
"You seem tense, friend," the Chiss said. "I have something that'll loosen you up a bit."
"I'm not interested," said Jag. He tried to step away from the pusher, but he felt the Chiss's hand grip his shoulder. He spun around.
The Chiss was still smiling. "Come on, it's just a death stick. I'll let you sample one, on me."
Jag sighed. He didn't want it to have to come to this, but he also didn't want to have to deal with drug pushes his whole time here. He grabbed the man's hand off his shoulder and twisted it behind his back, pushing the Chiss up against a nearby pillar face-first. Several red eyes turned to look at him, but none gave it much notice; apparently, brawls were a common occurrence here. "Listen, 'friend', I didn't survive over 200 battles to be killed by something called a 'death stick' in some second-rate club surrounded by scum like you." He released the man. "Do me a favor and pass that sentiment along to your buddies."
The man messaged his shoulder, and stared at Jag for a few seconds, debating whether to strike him, but decided against it. There were very few humans living among the Chiss, even fewer in the military. Odds are, he knows who I am, and word will pass quickly through this place. He started searching the club for his sister again. She's going to have some explaining to do when I find her. What could she possibly be doing with anyone who frequents this place?
"... And they send our armies and our soldiers into the Core-worlds, to help the Republicans, day-in and day-out. And we're supposed to believe that they care for our safety?" Jag heard the faint but distinguishable voice. Jag followed it to a corner of the club. A Chiss about Jag's own age stood on one of the chairs. His long hair and loose clothing made him stand out of the crowd that was surrounding him, listening to his speech. Jag decided to hear this out. "It just goes to show how corrupt our government is: They condemn first-strikes, and yet, there they are, sending boys into war! The invaders have shown no interest in us, yet we continue to provoke them. We have so many problems on our own territory that need to be solved. We aren't galactic police! Chiss interests should come first!"
A small murmur of agreement passed through the crowd. Jag leaned against a nearby pillar, his search for his sister put on hold as he tried to recognize the speaker. He seemed familiar to Jag, but he couldn't quite place him.
"I'm not saying that the Republicans don't deserve our help," the man continued. "On the contrary, the Republic, or more-so, the Rebel Alliance before them, are a true guerrilla army. They fought for what they believed in, and they won against over-whelming odds. We should look up to them for that. And follow in their example. How many cities are there that the Csillian government just ignores? The whole western continent is so poor that they have to rely on donations from the East -- the part of Csilla that is responsible for their poverty -- to continue living. The only time the ruling houses even look at the West is when they need fresh recruits!"
Then, suddenly, Jag got it. Hilrar Justeruo was at one of Thrawn's academies with Jag for a while. They weren't friends and barely knew each other, Jag having been groomed to be a pilot, and Hilrar was in the commando course. The only reason Jag even remembered Hilrar was that he got expelled a few months before graduation. The details were still a little sketchy, but from what Jag could remember, Hilrar had sliced into the academy terminals with malicious intent. I would have thought he would have been in jail for something by now, not trying to rally troops for a revolution!
Jag was about to move on when he caught sight of his quarry. Luna was standing at the edge of Hilrar's audience, eyes wide and transfixed on the stage, hanging on Hilrar's every word. Jag stared for a second, not sure of what to do. I thought what I knew of you before this was bad, Luna, but this is just disappointing. I thought you were smarter than this. He pushed his way carefully through the crowd, and came to stand behind his sister. "Charismatic speaker, isn't he?"
Luna whipped he head around to face him. Recognition flashed in her eyes for a second, before it turned to anger. "You followed me?" she hissed.
"Well, I didn't want to miss 'Idiots Night' at the Maxxier. It's not every day that I get to hear this much stupidity." Jag retorted.
"Go away, Jagged. No one wants you here." Luna made a face at him, before turning back to Hilrar, who was talking again.
"And I don't want you here." Jag said. He took her by the elbow. "Let's go for a walk."
Luna tried to pull her arm free, but Jag kept a firm grip on it. "What are you, my mother?"
"Would you like me to get your mother?"
"You're going to tell them anyway, it might as well be now!" Luna snapped, louder than she intended. Hilrar stopped speaking to look at them, and those around them had turned as well.
Jag just glared at them. "Family matter. It's personal." He gestured to Hilrar, "Continue with your speech."
A small smile broke out on Hilrar's face, and Jag could almost sense the maliciousness behind it. "Well, friends, it looks like we have a guest speaker today. Jagged Fel, why don't you enlighten us with your war tales. Tell me, has the war been enjoyable."
Jag continued to hold his sister's arm and turned to face Hilrar. "It's war, Justeruo. 'Enjoyable' isn't the word I'd use to describe it."
"And what would you use to describe it?" Hilrar asked, the same smile still on his face.
"Necessary." Jag answered bluntly. Jag wasn't interested in having a debate with Hilrar, at least not tonight. He was tired and angry, and didn't trust himself to keep his emotions in check. He pulled on Luna's arm and she was forced to walk with him; the only other alternatives were falling or starting a fight.
Hilrar wasn't going to let him leave quietly, however. He jumped off of the chair and pushed through the crowd. "'Necessary?' You find it necessary to send out soldiers to their deaths?" He called after them.
Jag spun around and finally dropped his sisters arm. "I find it necessary to fight for what I believe in, and, unlike you, I have educated beliefs."
"Well, then, care to enlighten us?" Hilrar sneered at him.
"Not really. It's not my duty to save you from your own stupidity." Jag turned his back to the crowd, which had now erupted in insults aimed at him, and looked at his sister. "Let's go."
"I don't want to." Luna hissed at him. "I leave now, I'll never get back in."
"What are we waiting for, then?" Jag guided her out of the club, and tried to ignore the eyes and comments directed at him.
The street outside was deserted. There was a slight breeze blowing in the night, and even though they were in the summer season on Csilla, Jag still felt a little cold. He wished he had grabbed a coat before he ran out. He glanced at Luna and was slightly relieved that she was adequately dressed. However, the pure look of anger on her face didn't have the same positive effect on him. "What is your problem?"
"I was just completely embarrassed in there!" Luna spat at him
Jag rolled his eyes at her. "You should be more embarrassed that you were in there in the first place. Just get in the speeder, Luna."
"Typical authoritarian oppression." Jag turned his head sideways at the sound, and found himself staring at a group of about half a dozen Chiss, with Hilrar at the front. "Spoken like someone who was used to having his orders obeyed. We'll, I'll let you in on a little secret, Fel: You don't own us."
"Why would I want to?" Jag countered, getting into the speeder, and gesturing for Luna to do the same. She sighed dramatically, but obeyed. Jag keyed the speeder on, and the roar of the engines coming to life filled the streets.
"You said you had educated beliefs, Jagged! I'd sure like to know what those are!" Hilrar had to shout to be heard over the noise.
Jag piloted the speeder in a slow turn and came to a stop beside Hilrar and his group, putting the engines on stand-by. The amount of noise diminished considerably. "You know nothing of the Yuuzhan Vong, of their culture, their philosophy. If you did, you would know your duty is to fight and defeat them, not sprout off theories in second-rate bars away from the actual fighting. If you knew half of what you claim to, you'd know that negotiations and declarations of neutrality mean nothing to them."
"Spoken like a true ignorant soldier." Hilrar sneered. "You neglect to mention the other reasons Csilla wants to go to war: Boost the economy, get rid of some of their criminals by conscripting them into the army... I could go on, you know."
"If you'd like to keep making a fool of yourself, then please, by all means, continue."
Hilrar frowned at him. "Funny, I thought I was winning this argument."
"I am not justifying war, Justeruo, nor condoning the actions of politicians." Jag sighed and shook his head. "Have you ever heard of that story of the Jawa and the Gammorean?"
"Of course. Jawa gets bullied by the Gammorean, and goes to get his friends to help him fight it off. What's your point?"
"What was the moral of the story?"
Hilrar looked around his group, unsure of what to say. He was met with equally confused glances. "Strength in numbers?" Hilrar finally guessed.
Jag nodded. "If we were to follow your plans, we'd all blockade ourselves in our own systems and wait for the Vong to wipe us out, one by one. If we pool our resources together, however, we stand a better chance of defeating the Vong."
"That's assuming the Vong want to dominate the galaxy."
"I know the Vong want to take over the galaxy." Jag keyed his speeder on again. The engines roared loudly. "I just hope," he shouted, "that when the Vong come to Csilla, you are prepared to fight, not talk."
Jag cut off any comment Hilrar might have made to him by driving out of the designated parking area. He had more pressing matters to deal with, and, frankly, Hilrar Justeruo's opinion of him didn't matter to him all that much. What did worry him was that Luna seemed to care about it. She wouldn't meet his gaze and sat fuming, staring out side of the speeder. He decided to have a talk with her before they went home. He veered off the main street and took a side street, away from his house. Luna looked back, then stared at him in confusion. "Um, Jag, I know you've been away for a while, but we still live in that direction." Luna jerked a thumb towards the back of the speeder.
Jag grinned, but didn't let Luna see it. "I want to talk to you before I let our parents deal with you."
"We don't have anything to talk about."
"You don't have to talk. Just listen for a change." Jag said, trying to keep his voice even. He didn't want to start this conversation while he was operating heavy machinery. Luna also didn't seem eager to talk to him, so she sat quietly.
After a few minutes wandering the streets, Jag found the perfect place. He parked the speeder and got out to observe his surrounding. The parking area had been abandoned for some time, as was the office complex that was next to it. There was a small rail at the edge of it, and Jag peered over to look what was below. A few meters in front of him, the ground steeply dropped off, and Jag could see a river below. He walked back to the speeder and leaned against the front. The metal was cool, causing him to shiver. A moment later, he heard Luna exit the speeder as well, and she walked to stand beside him. "He had some good points, Jagged, you have to admit that."
"Of course he did. But it's hardly original; you can go to a thousand different worlds that are engaged in this war and you'll still hear the same sentiments," Jag pointed out. "What he said can be applied to any war."
"Just because it's not original doesn't make it wrong, Jagged," Luna said.
Jag sighed. "Do politicians always have a second motive? Yes. Do people die in war? Yes. Is this war really necessary? Probably not. But that's not for us to decide; it's in the Vong's hands. They came into this galaxy ready to fight. It's self-defense."
Luna sneered. "That's probably what they tell their little Vong children, too."
"So you're comparing yourself to Vong children? Kind of fitting, at least on a mental level."
"Oh, shut up Jagged." Luna snapped at him.
"No, I'm serious. Come on, really, Luna, how much of that do you really believe?" Jag pressed on. "And how much of it is just some rebellion against our father?"
Luna dropped his gaze and looked down. She didn't respond.
Jag decided to let that part of their conversation rest there, at least for now. "Let's try a different conversation. Your grades at school haven't exactly been excellent, or so I'm told."
This brought Luna's head up. "So? Everyone knows that your school grades are hardly the measure of your intelligence."
"Wrong," Jag reprimanded her. "You should know that you can't get ahead in life unless you do well in your schooling. You say you want to make changes to the way this planet is run? Well, you can't do it from the outside, trying to get in. You have to be on the inside. This is why smart people do well in school. It's not because they're smart enough to understand the material; it's because they're smart enough to know that they need it."
Luna said nothing as she took this in. She crossed her arms and leaned back on the speeder. They sat in silence, trying to ignore the cold. Jag wished for warmer clothes for the second time that night. Shivers kept running through his body.
"Hey, a shooting star." Jag looked up at the sky and followed Luna's gaze, but he saw nothing. Luna continued to stare at the sky. "Maybe it is just a rebellion."
Jag glanced at her, and said nothing.
"I don't think so, though," Luna continued on. "Some of the stuff I've read makes sense, to me at least."
Her eyes were still fixed on the sky. Jag followed suit, and noticed the lack of activity in the atmosphere. On most of the worlds in this galaxy, a high number of civilian traffic takes place in the skies, but on Csilla, no air lanes had been established. The majority of the population used speeders to get around, and as a result the sky was clear and millions of stars and planets could be seen. "So what do you want to do about it?" Jag asked.
Luna smiled at him. "I don't really know. Maybe go into politics."
Jag grimaced. "Not the answer I wanted to hear."
"I think I can do some good, really," Luna said, her voice almost sounding like she was pleading with him. "Save the world, maybe."
"I don't know about saving the world, at least not this one." Jag gestured around him. "It would take far too long."
Luna regarded him. "Then what do you suggest?"
"The Republic has fallen," Jag said. "I know you said you don't want to be a part in this war, but if you think you can do good, well, the Reps could use the help."
"I'm sure the Baron would just love having all his children join the New Republic." Luna laughed.
Jag chuckled. "The Republic's dead. We'd be joining something totally different."
"Great. Maybe Mom can make some inspirational holo-dramas for the troops."
They both started laughing at that, their laughter carrying into the surrounding streets. Luna's laughter died out first. "Well."
Jag looked at her, and she was staring at the sky again. "What?"
"Must be a meteor shower or something." Luna said. Jag finally looked up and noticed several tiny lights moving in the distance. Then, the lights began to move off of their original course. This can't be due to gravity. They must be--. Jag's thoughts cut off when the lights formed a pattern he was all-too-familiar with. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran up his back.
Coralskippers!