A Life at War: Twilight-Chapter 30: The first Riot
Honestly I wasn’t even surprised when Hondo burst through the door of my temporary quarters, a blaster leveled at my head and his Monkey-Lizard jumping on poor R4’s head.
“YOU!” The Pirate bellows as he gestures with his pistol.
“Me?” I ask.
“I demand compensation! You gave ME! HONDO OHNAKA! A FALSE LETTER OF MARQUE!”
I snarl at that: “I did no such thing. What in the name of the Maker gave you that idea?”
“I was conducting business on Felucia a bit over four weeks ago when THREE JEDI assaulted me and my men! I lost tanks, men and material! With no profit.” He says his last words coming out in a shudder of disgust.
My mind meanwhile is racing. Jedi? Was he mistaken? Did they go rogue? Why would they attack a Republic asset?: “Are you certain they were Jedi?”
“Yes, the whole force mumbo jumbo, laser sword wielding, everything!”
“Why did you not this earlier?” I ask, about half a dozen worries racing through my mind.
“Because I may have known Kenobi and Skywalker.”
… “What?”
“I have encountered them before.”
“Hondo, were you raiding the planetary surface?”
“Yes? It is within the boundaries of the letter of marque.” Comes the reply.
“Hondo, did the Separatist civilians seem meek and vulnerable? Before you answer that, did you even attempt to inform the Jedi of your letter of marque before you threatened the locals and or attacked the them?” I ask.
“Well, I will usually lie to you. However that is quite accurate.” The pirate answers.
“You understand this voids the damn letter, you karking fool of a Weequay.” I say, feeling my anger boil and my voice chill.
“Excuse me?”
“However,” I interrupt the imminent rant from the foolish pirate, “This was clearly a blue on blue incident based off of faulty information and a minor and clearly accidental failure of protocol. That is what I will write in my on your actions, a that will be dated for just before General Koth’s kidnapping. A which I accidentally forgot to send in due to his capture and then filed incorrectly. I will karking convince the Jedi that one of your now tragically deceased Lieutenants made the critical mistake in protocol, even if I need to personally march down to the Jedi temple. This is a major favor Ohnaka and I want your maps for this, all of them.”
The Weequay looks disgruntled at the last piece of information but nods. I carry on: “Firstly an old friend of mine will be heading to Dac in a C-ROC Gazonti with Fondorian credentials. He responds to Elix Riderman and if someone needs proof of allegiance he will tell a story of how he attempted to mug a drunk teenager to try and pay off his depts. Said teenager helped him in the end and they became friends. He may or may not mention a story about said friend being a Commodore. That should suffice, no?”
“I understand. He will not be harmed by any of my men, be they on or off the books and you will have your maps, but I demand an apology.” The Pirate responds.
“Good. I would recommend you leave so I can sort out your blue on blue. I’ll need an accurate alongside the usual self aggrandizement Hondo, for the apology.” I say.
“I will see what I can do about that. One of my men will drop it off with one of your Clones.” The Pirate replies.
“Good. Have a nice day Ohnaka and happy hunting.” I say. The pirate skulking off soon after. After the door closes I sigh. I was hoping for some calm and now I had to chase after a four week old Jedi after action and turn it into a military blue on blue incident, not to mention a probable scandal.
“Fuck.”
-Fondor same time-
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The syndicates were re-forming and the unions were gathering in earnest for the first time in centuries. Meanwhile Naomi Dericote was happily organizing the plans of the First Minister, Separatist Military Governor, the Emir Drarmar. He had recently been appointed to his positions by the Techno Union and the Separatist Council to ensure wartime efficiency of the shipyards.
He had replaced her former superior after her untimely fall from a window from the one hundredth floor. Bad luck, she had been nice. Naomi finishes up her work and hands it to a Commando droid before heading home. The protests would start today unless the unions got cold feet again. The syndicates were about to start rioting and it was a miracle that at least one city wasn’t on fire already.
She marches out of the office, one of the damn work tunes Thraken was always so enthused about on her mind. The brass swells as she hums along. Her train of thought broken as a worker heading home smashes a full bottle of beer on the ground, then someone else smashes another, then another. It is like the beat of the song to her and she picks up the pace.
She notices the ones who have started the salute to the dead are all wearing blue armbands of the First Shiprights Syndicate of Fondor. She runs, trying to get home before she’s caught in the crossfire. Instead she finds herself in front of a wall. A wall of flesh and anger. Most of the people in the red armbands of the First Republic Military Dockyards’ Syndicate. She can read the banners, some in Skakoan, some in Duro, some Herglic, most in basic.
“DOWN WITH THE SEPIES!” “GIVE US OUR RATIONS!” “UP WITH THE BANNERS!” “LONG LIVE THE REPUBLIC!” “WORKERS UNITED!” “UNIONS AND SYNDICATES TOGETHER ONCE MORE!” All painted with large red letters over the banners and signs.
And prevalent throughout the city one word is shouted above all others: “STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!”
Naomi jumps into a side alley on the main thoroughfare as the wall of people march past her. Someone has put on actual music now. A similar brass heavy workers song. She glances up and sees it coming from the emergency broadcast system, someone must have hacked into it.
Once the wall of flesh moves past her and the follow up is more of a horde of people she emerges from the alley and sees what she has feared. The column has halted on the plaza square outside the Ministerial headquarters. She climbs up onto a windowsill to get a better look, then jumps on a speeder to see better.
Banners in Republic red, blue, yellow and black hazard stripes and thousands upon thousands of people. She feels an urge to join them, but she stays in place as the music stops. An old man with a syndicate cap in blue climbs up on the statue with the help of a similarly dressed Herglic in front of the building and the emergency broadcasting system squeaks in reverb before the old man speaks.
“
Greetings to all Fondor. You may not know me, but I shall introduce myself to make up for that bit of informality. I am Master Luke Fien. I am a shipright for the civilian sector. Four weeks ago our rations were cut in half. Not only ours but the brewers and barkeeps, the restaurateurs and the merchants. All of our rations have been reduced. Our paychecks have been bouncing for the last three days of work. They cannot pay us, so we will not work. Our friends in the merchant class have promised us solidarity, to take our promise of credits for the food the Confederacy fails to give us without Abregado Rae and other LOYAL worlds of the Republic.”
The old man pauses and re-adjusts his syndicate cap: “
I will freely admit the Republic ain't perfect, but we haven’t starved under the Republic since the troubling days of exploitation. THOSE DAYS ARE BEHIND US! Those days
were
behind us. Now look. Up there is a man we did not choose, from a world not our own, from a culture not our own. We may not always have gotten along with the Ministry, but they’ve kept us fed when they were in Fondorian hands. So the Unions and Syndicates came together and have come to a decision.”
Another voice from the crowd, clearly a plant, shouts: “WHAT’VE THEY DECIDED?”
“
TO STRIKE! EMIR, OUR DEMANDS ARE SIMPLE! LEAVE OUR WORLD! TAKE YOUR SEPARATIST BATTLE DROIDS WITH YOU AND DON’T FUCKING COME BACK!”
The entire plaza erupts into applause and cheers and the worker’s music starts playing again from the speakers. The euphoria doesn’t cover the march of steel, nor do the colorful banners obfuscate the columns of B1s and B2s approaching the protest. She slinks back into the alley and watches. She hopes her lovely fool Owen is still at work and hopes Elix is safe in transit.
The music stops and the mechanically augmented voice of Emir Drarmar sounds throughout the world: “
Attention to all citizens. Disperse and return to your dwellings. I repeat you are to disperse and return to your dwellings. F-a
o
-au-ae-ailure to do so will result in arrest. Strikers will be
forced to their workstations and their rations will be cut
. This is your last warning. Disperse.”
Naomi feels the mood of the crowd change. She is in the middle of both sides, the crowd to her left and the droids to her right. She pulls herself further within the walls of the alley when a cry of pain echoes through the mummers of the crowd. A blaster shot, then another than the cracks of the few ancestral slugthrowers and more blasterfire. She starts running. No point in getting caught up in this, not like this, not now. Someone needs to live to tell the Republic. So she runs like the coward she believes herself to be.
It took an entire day for me to get access to the Jedi records. I bet some asshole in their administration felt pretty high and mighty making some poor officer wait for access. I compile Hondo’s s during my wait and had something resembling a coherent turn of events from the Pirate’s perspective.
The first thing I do after making the new was submit it with a low level priority with the false date sometime shortly before General Koth had been kidnapped. That should excuse the fact that the Jedi hadn’t seen it when it mentioned their participation and make me seem less incompetent for waiting so long to complain on Hondo’s behalf.
The main issue with the was the fact that it was a blue on blue incident. I was not going to risk submitting it with the improper classification. I did however remove the phrase from the title of the , leaving it instead in the description, which should slow down any bored administrator looking for blue on blue incidents.
When I receive the Jedi I started scanning the document for any minor mistake. Be it a missed punctuation, poor phrasing or a poor estimate. Thank the Maker most of the combatants were either Separatist civilians, Hondo’s men or Bounty Hunters. I could easily throw the civilians and Bounty Hunters under the proverbial buss for misinforming the Jedi of the situation and shunting one of Hondo’s Lieutenants who had lead the assault and died during it under the buss for not realizing the Jedi were on our side and failing to inform Hondo that Republic forces were supporting the Separatist.
Next I get myself a new cup of caf and begin filling out a formal complaint to the Jedi for not addressing the blue on blue incident. I shuddered at the words I used in the complaint, it reminded me too much of how Ma would complain about her first boss and her second boss and the former First Secretary and our current Senator and cousin Hugo. I also heavily insinuated that Hondo was considering tearing up his letter of marque and snitching to the Separatists if he wasn’t compensated and apologized to.
The complaint I marked as high priority and purposefully marked it urgent when submitting it. I almost immediately received a reply from Naval Intelligence, who demanded I apologize to one of their more reliable sources and assured me they would file a further complaint to the Jedi. Maybe an hour later I also received a joint inquiry from Navy Operations and Navy Intelligence to invite Mr. Ohnaka to Dac to formally apologize on behalf of the Navy for the misfiling, witch they blamed on a droid malfunction and the also immediate news of General Koth’s capture throwing their office into chaos. Maker on high they were taking the blame for me. Why would they do that?
Finally six hours after sending in the complaint I received a message from the Jedi that due to General Koth’s injuries they would send General Kenobi after he finished his mission to Mandalore to formally apologize to Mr. Ohnaka and give me the order’s thanks for addressing the issue in a timely manner. Though they also blamed a droid malfunction and general Koth’s capture on why they had taken so long to respond. Maker why were they all so trigger happy to take some of the blame?
Honestly that had gone about five times as well as I was expecting. My main concern was that after the war someone would investigate this, but by then I could come clean and throw Hondo under the buss. Probably say he threatened me with a blaster, which I suppose he did. Convenient that. At least the supply convoy had arrived during my wait, filled with the recently approved boarding shields a LAAT/c and an AT-TE to start the prototype of the boarding vessel I had planned.
Chapter 30: The first Riot
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