Incoming Transmission:
Hello again dear listeners. I'm Jevia Cross and this is Radio Liberty, giving you the news the Empire doesn't want you to hear.
Speaking of our uptight overlords, they've been running themselves ragged trying to hold several Mandalorian planets. It's been several weeks since the Imps began their invasion of Mandalore, and Clans Wren and Vizsla have finally defeated the Imperials, who have fallen back to Vlemoth Port and lost 45,000 troops in the process.
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Delphine Katz looked across the warm blue of Notselrahc toward Fort Retmus. A plaque said General Grievous had stood here when the Confederacy opened fire on the island fortress the Republic and that damned fool Sheev Palpatine refused to surrender. FIRST SHOTS IN THE BATTLE FOR OUR FREEDOM FROM REPUBLIC OPPRESSION, the plaque declared.
That little island remained fortified to this day. Big coast-defense guns could reach far into the air. But they couldn't reach far enough to smash all the threats the Empire might throw at them. Antiaircraft guns bristled on the island and around the harbor. If the imperialists flew TIE fighters off the hanger of a Star Destroyer, they would catch as much hell as the gunners could give them.
A Rebel Alliance stalwart named Deskan Hian stood at Delphine's right hand. "If they try anything, we'll be ready for em'", he declared. Despite the heat and breathless humidity of early summer on Notselrahc, he looked cool and well pressed in crisp white shirt and butternut slacks. "We know-darn well they can't lick us."
He couldn't have been more than 30 years old. He would have been a boy when the Clone War ended. She wondered how long it would be till this new one put him in a real uniform instead of the cheap imitation he wore. She also wondered if he had any brains at all. Some stalwarts didn't—they were all balls and fists, and they didn't need to be anything else. She said, "We don't know anything of the sort. If they hadn't licked us the last time, this war would look mighty different."
"Well, but we were fighting the Jedi back then. It'll be a fair fight this time, so of course we'll lick em."
Delphine, in fact, had come to Notselrahc to put on a rally for the new revolutionary men and women. When a lot of those people would be going into battle, and when in due course, they would start coming back maimed or not coming back at all, they needed to be reminded of what this was all about. Speeches on the holonet only went so far. Nothing like a real rally where you could see your friends and neighbors jumping up and yelling along with you, where you could smell the fellow next to you getting all hot and bothered, to keep the juices flowing.
A gray-mustached man carrying a blaster cannon spoke next, "I hear that there are two, maybe even three Jedi on our side this time. If a single Jedi can take on a thousand troopers, we may actually have the upper hand."
Delphine scoffed. "Well where the hell are they? The Empire overran Christophsis, and now they've captured this planet's moon after one of the bloodiest battles of the war, leaving us vulnerable!"
In truth, the very idea of working alongside Jedi disgusted her. They were the ones who had led the Clone armies to victory after victory against the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Delphine was still a Separatist through and through, and although she was a member of the Alliance, she had no good feelings towards the idea of re-establishing the Republic, and she thought even less of their leader, Mon Monthma.
Stalwarts and Rebel Alliance guards and ordinary citizens started filling up the place more than an hour before the scheduled meeting time. Everyone wore a Rebel Alliance pin: the white flag with a red Starbird in the center. Most of the pins had a black border. That showed that the people who wore them had joined the Alliance after the Battle of Yavin. Members who'd belonged before that day looked down their noses at the johnny-come-latelies and opportunists, which didn't prevent them from using the newcomers whenever they needed to.
A young former Senator named Storm or something like that was the first one to step up and address the meeting. Delphine had heard him speak before. He was very good. Here, he didn't get to show his paces. He'd barely started his speech when air-raid sirens outside began to wail.
"You see?" he shouted. "Do you see?" He shook a fist at the sky. "The imperialists don't want you to hear the truth!"
People laughed and cheered. "Go on!" somebody shouted. "Who cares about a damned air raid?"
And the former Senator did go on, even when the antiaircraft guns around the harbor started pounding and bombs started falling. The Rebel Alliance men in the audience clapped their hands and stomped their feet to try to drown out the din of war. That made the former Senator shout to be heard over them and over the fireworks not far away.
Delphine thought they were all insane. She'd been through a bombing raid in the last war. Sitting here in this exposed place was the last thing she wanted to do now. But she knew what would happen if she yelled, Take cover, you damned idiots! The Rebel Alliance stalwarts would think she was nothing but a coward. They wouldn't listen to her. And they wouldn't take her seriously any more afterwards, either. That was the biggest part about what kept her quiet.
Resentment burned in her all the same. Because you're so stinking stubborn, I'm liable to get killed.
More bombs burst. Windows rattled. Not all the Imperials' presents were falling right on the harbor. Maybe that meant the anti-aircraft fire was heavier than the enemy had expected. Maybe it meant his bombardiers didn't know their business. Either way, it meant more of Notselrahc was catching hell.
Finally, a man her age whose Alliance pin showed that he had been a member before the Battle of Yavin and who wore the ribbon for a Purple Heart just below it, stood and bellowed, "Time to get the hell out of here, folks, while the goins' good!"
They listened to him. Delphine saw that with a mixture of relief and resentment. The veteran had a deep, authoritative rasp to his voice. Would they have paid any attention to her soft voice? Not likely!
"Where's a shelter?" Somebody asked. He sounded as if he knew what he was talking about. People got up and started leaving. Delphine wasn't sorry to go—far from it. She had all she could do not to run for the door. Again, fear of being thought weak carried more weight than fear of death. She didn't know why that should be so, but it was.
Out in the street, the noise was ten times worse. Chunks of shrapnel from spent antiaircraft shells rained down out of the sky. A man cried out in pain when one hit him in the shoulder. He sat down, hard, right there in the middle of the road.
Delphine looked around for the TIE bombers that were causing all the commotion. She didn't see any—and then she did. Here came one, over the tops of the buildings, straight towards her. It was on fire. Maybe the pilot was dead, maybe he wasn't.
"Run!" Half a dozen people yelled it. It was good advice, but much too late. The bomber screamed down. The world blew up.
When Delphine awoke, she wished she hadn't. She'd heard you often didn't feel pain when you were badly wounded. Whoever said that was a goddamn liar. Someone very close by was screaming. She needed a little while to realize those noises were coming from her. She tried to stop, but she couldn't.
Deskan Hian lay a few feet away from her, gutted like a hog. He was lucky. He was already dead. Delphine looked down at herself, and wished she hadn't. Consciousness faded. Black rose up to swallow it.