Incoming transmission…
Hello, hello, hello my beautiful ladies, gentlebeings and droids to another edition of Voice of Liberty! I'm your host, Jevia Cross and I'm back with more of the news the Empire doesn't want you to hear! We must begin with some very depressing news. Hosnian Prime has fallen to the Empire, and the Rebel Alliance's offensive into the Core Worlds has been crushed. According to leaked documents, General Jevil Doljah, who was in charge of the offensive, has commited suicide, along with many of his immediate subordinates. Few Rebels have managed to evade capture. We can only estimate how many families have been robbed of their loved ones by this new defeat. To those of you who are listening to this and are victims of this tragedy, you have my deepest sympathy.
In lighter news, the Rebel Alliance has defeated the Empire at Malachor II.
We're going to go to a musical break for a moment before we get into the meat of the broadcast. Until then, enjoy "Visions of Nova" by Mooneyes.
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When Cassius walked down the street, humans scurried out of his way. That still thrilled him. It had never happened before he started this occupation duty. For decades, he'd been taught to move aside for humans. Dreadful things happened to aliens who didn't. Now he had a blaster in his hands and the Rebel Alliance at his back. Anybody who didn't like that—and there were bound to be people who didn't—and was rash enough to let him know it could end up suddenly dead, and no one would say a word. Other members of Gracchus' band had shot humans in Warralokk for any reason or none, and then gone about their business. Human women were particularly quick not just to get out of the way but to get out of sight. Cassius had seen that ever since he got here. Shooting wasn't the only revenge Wookiees could take on their former social superiors. Oh, no—not at all.
Cassius scowled when he saw blue Imperial crests painted on walls. Those would come down or get painted over in a hurry—they were shorthand for Imperial battle flags. If a property owner didn't cover them up, Rebel soldiers would assume he was an Imperial sympathizer. They'd probably be right, too. Right or wrong, they'd make him sorry. More than a few humans had already disappeared from Warralokk. The Rebellion said they'd gone into prisons farther from the front. Wookiees loudly insisted the Rebels had shipped them to camps. Cassius had done it himself. They'd made him fight back, too. Tales of horror like that were liable to make the local humans fight back. Cassius didn't care.
He came to a street corner at the same time as another Wookiee marching from a different direction. "Morning, Sertorius," he said in Shyriiwook.. "How are you doing?"
"It's tolerable," his fellow guerrilla replied. "How about yourself?" "It could be worse," Cassius admitted. "We have plenty of food, we have a warm place to sleep, and we have all the Rebels on our side. Yeah, sure enough could be worse."
"Couple months ago, things were worse." Sertorius said. He nodded his head. Cassius returned the gesture. "See you," Sertorius added, and went on marching his assigned route. "See you." Cassius also walked on. Odds were they would see each other at the end of the day. They weren't living in fear, the way they had when they skulked and hid in the jungle.
At noon, another Wookiee took over Cassius' beat. Cassius went back to the tents outside of town to see if the Rebel cooks had any hot food.
Sure enough, big kettles of chicken stew simmered over crackling fires. Cassius dug out his mess kit and got in line.
"How'd it go?" asked the rebel in front of him. "Any trouble with the local yokels?"
"No." Cassius shook his head. But then he corrected himself: "Well, a little. This kid who doesn't like Wookiees—and I know he doesn't like Wookiees— tried to bum food off of me."
"Hope you told him to fuck himself," the soldier said. "Little asshole can starve for all I care. Just save somebody on our side the trouble of shooting him once he grows up."
"You think another war's coming?" Cassius asked as the line snaked forward.
"Shit, don't you?" the rebel replied. "Sooner or later, we'll let these Imperial bastards back on their feet. A half hour after we do, they'll clean the grease off the guns they got stashed away and start greasin' us."
Was that savage cynicism or sage common sense? When it came to gauging the chances of peace and war, how much difference was there? Cassius didn't know. He did know human Imperials despised both aliens and Rebel humans. He'd always known Imperial aliens didn't love humans—and how little reason they had to love them. Now he'd discovered that human soldiers from the Rebellion couldn't stand humans from the Empire, either. That was reassuring.
Plainly, quite a few soldiers in green-gray didn't like aliens, either. But they hated human Imperials more—at least while they were down here. Human Imperials wanted them dead, and were willing—no, eager—to pick up weapons and make sure they died. Wookiees on Kasheek, by contrast, made natural allies. The enemy of my enemy...is at least worth dishing out rations to, Cassius thought.
The cook loaded his mess kit with as much chicken stew as anybody else got. "Here y'are, buddy," he said, his lips barely moving because of the cigarette that dangled from the corner of his mouth.
"Thanks," Cassius moved on.
When he got a cup of caff to go with the stew, he found it heavily laced with chicory. But it came from the same big pot—almost a vat—that served the Rebels. No one was giving him particularly lousy caff. The good stuff was hard to come by—that was all. As long as he got his fair share of what there was, he had no kick coming. He made sure he washed his mess kit after he finished eating. The Rebellion came down hard on you if you didn't. One dose of a jowly sergeant screaming in his face about food poisoning and the galloping shits was enough to last him a lifetime. He did notice that the sergeants screamed just as loud at humans they caught screwing up. Again, as long as they tore into everybody equally, Cassius could deal with it. Once he'd policed up—a term that had sounded funny when he first heard it, but one he was used to now—he went over to the POW camp outside of Warralokk.
The Imperials would bite if they got half a chance. But he had claws of his own. The blaster rifles weight, which often annoyed him, seemed more like a safety net close to the prisoners. "If I had a blaster myself, I'd shoot you for holding that thing," a POW said, shaking his fist.
You could try, Cassius thought.
"You know what happens to uppity walking carpets?" another POW said.
I sure do. They get shot. Cassius started to unsling the rifle. The same thing happens to uppity prisoners. The Stormtrooper shut up. Cassius let his hand drop.
Some of the other POWs weren't uppity. They were just hungry. They begged from Rebel soldiers, and they begged from Wookiees, too. "Got any rations you don't need?" one of them asked, stretching out his hands imploringly to Cassius.
Cassius ignored him and walked off. He wondered if the POW would cuss him out as he went. But the man kept quiet. A few untimely demises had convinced the Imperial prisoners that they needed to watch their mouths around the surviving Wookiees.