Nudgings of Conscience

[Estelle Russard]

Breathless, Estelle brushed passed the shaggy haired youth as he opened the door and sidestepped to admit her to the room.

"You're late" he rebuked before poking his head into the corridor to check for lurkers.

All clear, he closed the door and turned, tripping on the strap of the young woman's enormous baggy purse which she had dropped thoughtlessly on the floor. Hanging up her sweater and long dark knitted scarf on the hook screwed into the wall for that purpose, she apologised.

"I know, Im sorry. I had a late class and Pedallman is always so longwinded"

There were too many coats and sweaters and scarves on the hook already and Estelle's items slid promptly off. She left them where they fell and turned about.

"Did you know he'd had a stroke when he was 42?"

"What?" the youth asked as he bent to pick up the sweater.

"No, neither did I. Or anybody else in 'Societal Conscience.' As if we care."

She took the sweater from his hand and stabbed it again onto the hook.

"He says it inspired him to write his memoires."

"What?" he bent to get the scarf.

"I mean, whoever writes their memoires at 46? Thats absurd, and not a little egotistical if you ask me"

"Estelle" the young man was getting exasperated. The sweater slipped back to the floor. He bent again.

"Besides, dont you have to be at the end of your life in order to have anything interesting to put into your memoires? And what, pray tell, does his life have anything to do with 'Societal Conscience'? Honestly, the man is a first-rate boor. James!" she snapped suddenly, "stop fiddling, were late."

Heated debate was already underway as the pair stepped deeper into the room and took a seat on cushions tossed on the floor, lounging into the discussion.

For twenty minutes already, the six other students currently present had been arguing the wisdom of bringing their dogma into a new level of visibility. The newletter was not enough.

The "Tarkin Institute of Art and Design" - a name newly bestowed to the former Coruscant University in honor of the Grand Moff who commanded the greatest weapon of Imperial Construction yet realised - the Death Star - was a seed bed for intellectual thought and expanded free thinking. It fostered creativity and expression of its students, its professors being of the highest calibre found on the planet. Its grand halls and state of the art facilities were populated by the brightest, and often the wealthiest, young people that Coruscant could provide.

Estelle, like the majority of her companions, had obtained her place in its student body by her outstanding grades and her obvious potential. The fact that her father was a textile magnate whose influence reached beyond the merchantile elite, did her no harm either.

As proud as her father was of her achievement so far, he would be mortified to know that alot of her free time was not spent in study, or even in socialising and networking offspring of other influential families, but in closeted groups, discussing the injustices and the anti-humanitarian practices of the current glorious Imperial fleet.

Listening, with a heart not yet fully convinced that the regime under which she had lived all her life - a regime in which her father, and his father before him had forged a fruitful and fulfilling life for herself and her family - Estelle worried that moving too fast, too soon would only lead to them being branded and excommunicated before that could make any real difference.

James looked across the room at her, reading easily her misgivings outlined on the studied blankness of her face. He smiled quietly at her, his lips splitting the red scraggly goatee he wore. She smiled back, glad to know he understood how hard it was for her to admit, even though in a lesser degree of zeal than her peers, that something really appeared to be rotten in the empire.

[Estelle Russard]

"You have to agree that the hunting down and killing - not just imprisoning, but killing - of these Jedi's and their darksider counterparts is not just unnecessary, but is fundamentally evil. It is persecution for belief and lifestyle choice on a massive and unjustified scale. Any moron can see that."

Estelle found the sentiment hard to argue, but did Randolf, the self-professed leader of the student rebellion, have to spit when he talked? That is just gross.

"No, Randy, we're not saying that." James was being diplomatic again. Estelle thought he should have just punched their obnoxious leader on the nose.
"We're just saying that while we agree with you, we're not sure about some of the ways you want to get the message out."

"Yeah, like bombing the Military Recruitement Center in protest, for one" chimed Julia, a braided hippy type who had a penchant for neckbeads.

"It would be a blood-bomb Julia" Randolf sniped rudely.

"We're just saying" James again, "that we have to agree on our methods. Find the best ways to be effective." James knew that perhaps it would start with just being blood-bombs, an idea he personally liked. But knowing Randy like he did, escalation was inevitable. Violence was always an option when it came to Randolf Niaro.

"All you lot want to do is talk." Randy got to his feet, signalling the end of the meeting. "You hide behind your concern in doing it right, and succeed in doing nothing at all but sitting on your arses and postulating like pansies."

He pulled all the coats off the hook in order get to his own underneath.

"Why dont you all call me when you get the jam to do something other than waste my time"

The door slammed after him and everyone skipped uncertain looks to one another.


*************************************

Sitting over caffe and a shared piece of cheesecake at a local diner later that evening, Estelle and James were coming to a stalemate of their own, only with less tantrum than what was displayed at their dissident meeting.

"Just come with me, Estelle these guys make a lot of sense. They are good to talk to."

Estelle squirmmed. James had been asking her for weeks to come to a meeting with one of his old friends who apparently knew some of those belonging to the Rebel cause. The real legit guys.

She had been avoiding saying yes or no be being conveniently "busy" with study, or visiting family, or having a sick puppy to take care of (that was inventive, at least). And James had bought it all. Or acted as though he had. But now, tonight, he was not going to be put off.

"They are good to talk to. They are organized. Not like Randolf, all chokin' at the bit and stuff . They are reasonable. And they can tell you the truth - stories about people they know, not just what they heard - that will help you make up you're mind about things."

"I dont know..." she poked at the cheesecake with her fork, making little holes in it.

"Yes, you do" he took her hand and squeezed it lightly. "You need to decide what you believe, Estelle. You need to hear the other side of the story, for real. All you've ever known is what your Dad has told you. His love for the Empire is his own. It doesn't mean it has to be yours too."

She frowned. She didnt like what he was saying. It cut too close to the truth.

"It's time you made up your own mind about things. Time you thought for yourself."

Estelle pushed the cheesecake away from her and over to James. She no longer felt in the mood for it.

She was giving him the "no answer" response. He picked up the fork and took a giant bite of the dessert. With his mouth half full he stood up.

"Leds gwo"

Without a word, Estelle followed.

James was right. She needed to think for herself. She would go to this meeting of his. She would listen to his "friend." And she would think for herself. And then she would tell him she was not going to any more meetings. She was out. Done. Finito. The end.

Both in a bad mood now, they walked in silence as James saw her back to her dorm room.

[Estelle Russard]

It had been three nights since the student dorm meeting and Estelle found herself, as she had many times since, mulling over her position on the Imperial Purge as she steered her small speeder into the parking bay of her family's property. She checked her chrono as she stepped from the vehicle, pleased to see she had made good time from her side of the city. A smartly groomed manservant responded to her chime of the door bell and she was duely led into the drawing room in order to join her grandfather.


Jason Russard ( "the elder" - as he was referred to in business circles) sat in his favorite stuffed leather chair. Cloistered in a handspun arulean wool blanket in front of a crackling fire, the old man hoarded its warmth like a miser would gold.

The House always felt cold. He had always said so and complained about it endlessly. He said it chilled his bones so cold he may as well be living on Hoth. Estelle agreed, the house was cold.

His twi'lek nurse sat quietly across the room from him doing a crossword puzzle by the light of a shaded tablelamp. Ever present and always attentive, the twi'lek cared for the old man dispensing medication, monitoring his vitals and generally attending to the many needs that arise with someone who is aged, unwell and growing increasingly feeble.

A peice of wood popped and crackled loudly in the fireplace, sending a flurry of embers up the flue. Jason Russard barked at the offending sparks and jabbed at the heart of the culprit with an iron poker.

"Good evening Grandpa" Estelle placed a light kiss of greeting on the old man's cheek. It tasted like paste. "You staying up for dinner?"

Usually the old man was in bed by now. Eight PM was late for him.

"Yes" the elder grunted with distinct lack of enthusiasm. "Your father has a big announcement he wants to make." Obviously, Grandpa did not hold highly with big announcements.

"Thats why Im here actually" Estelle explained, "he asked me to come, especially."

"Yeah" he grunted again. "Jason always was one for an audience. Cant do anything unless some one applaudes him."

Estelle humoured the old man with a "hmhm". He was such a crotchety old buzzard. What kept him hanging on to life, she'd never know. He hated everything and everyone, it seemed, and got no enjoyment from the simple pleasures life could offer one at the twighlight of his years. Comfortable surroundings, fine possessions, a devoted son - not even the satisfaction that he had lived a long life to great wealth and material gain and seen his successful business become a small personal empire contiunued by his son, could make him happy.

Looking at him now, Estelle clearly read a suppressed bitterness in the lines of his sunken face. She did'nt know what had left its mark on him, but felt sure it owned to other than old age alone.

"Well, all of us like to share good news with those we love, Grandpa."

"How do you know its good news, girl?" he croaked. "You're as naive as your father used to be at your age. Fool, girl." He jabbed the poker at the fire again, sending more embers flying . "You dont know nothin' about nothin'"

Estelle tucked the blanket about the old man's knees a little more, and patted out a stray spark that had landed in his lap. Thankfully, she heard her father, Jason ("the younger" as he was known in business circles) enter the room behind her, saving her from further berating.

"Elle! I didn't realise you were here already"

Her father greeted her in an old endearment of his, proof that the news he wished to share was, in fact, good.

He embraced Estelle in a generous hug, and then stepped back to look her over.

"You look too skinny" his smiled. He always said that.

"I hope you're hungry - the cook's made lamb."

[Estelle Russard]

The lamb was delicious, melting almost immediately it touched the tongue.

The three generations Russard sat at one end of the enormous dining table, which could seat comfortably 24. Servants bobbed back and forth, topping up wine glasses and removing plates and utensils as needed. Conversation was genial and touched only on generalities, and was carried on mostly between Estelle and her father, with the old man tossing out a "hrrmpff" or similar response whenever the spirit moved him.

Waving her hand as the servant approached, Estelle declined dessert. The two men followed suit, preferring to each take a glass of port instead.This too, Estelle declined. Port was an aquired taste, and that usually only by older men and cigar smokers. Of which, she was neither.

"So, Daddy, are you going to keep us in suspense all night?"

Jason Russard smiled with gratification. He had been waiting for her to give him his opening. Jason the elder suddenly took a keener interest in what his son might now say than he had to anything discussed through dinner.

"Well" he gestured to Estelle, and then to his father, "you'll both be happy to know that we have been awarded the Synthetic Developement Technologies contract from the Imperial Army." The old man dropped his head. He had been both expecting this, and at the same time hoping he would be wrong in the expectation. "Our bid was not the lowest, but recognition of our previous work with synthetics development in the past saw us through."

"Thats terrific, Daddy. Congratulations"

"Thankyou, Elle. It will mean a closer working relationship between ourselves and the Imperials. As you may not be aware, we have been working towards creating a versatile lining or body-glove for beneath armor that acts much like human skin. For example, it would be water resistant like skin in that it can be towelled dry and does not waterlog; it would be self repairing in the manner of how scars form on our bodies, eventually allowing the material to knit together and close a rent. Both these attributes are extremely desireable where prolonged guerilla warfare is invloved. We are also looking into a temperature regulator that will adjust to local conditions for the comfort and optimum performance of the wearer."

"It sounds amazing" Estelle was impressed. Yet there had still beenl no remark from Grandfather.

"Well, it is not done yet. There is lots of research and trials to be conducted, but we are on the fast track now. The military will foot a large portion of the bill."

This was a very high profile contract. Her father had every right to be excited.

Jason the Elder did not hold the same sentiment, however, as was obvious by his impatient gesture toward his nurse. As he stood up from the table, Estelle and her father exchanged uncertain glances. Was the old man angry about this?

"You have nothing to say? Jason asked his father, searching for approval that was not forthcoming. Instead, the old man snapped a heated reply.

"I would have thought the Imperials had all the advantage against lesser opponents as it is, Jason. But, by all means, further their ambition if you can. Make some more money in the process, surely you dont yet have enough."

This was not the reaction that had been expected form his father and Jason could not hide his confusion.

"But, you have always praised the Imperial army and their brillliant strategies. For years, all I heard from you was how they will bring peace in our time. They have made trade and transport lanes safe from maurauders and pirates and brought stability to a galaxy that had been overrun with meddling, deceiving force users and troublemaking Rebels alike. We owe them so much!"

The old man's shoulders sank, and suddenly he seemed stooped and fragile, "You think so, my boy? You think this galactic domination by the Empire is what we all want?" He turned from the table, leaning heavily on the twi'leks arm. "I wonder if the people of Alderaan would agree"

The old man left the two remaining Russards speechless as he exited the room. Both reclined back slowly in their seats, each nursing their own thoughts. The question as to their patriach's change of heart foremost in both their minds.

For Jason the younger, it was a shock and something he did not understand, nor agree with. It contradicted everything he thought he knew about his father, and went against his own personal ideals. His antagonism made no sense at all and would eventually, after the emotion of the evening passed, be attibuted by Jason to his fathers advanced age and deteriorating faculties. The old man was losing touch. It broke Jason the younger's heart to see it.

For Estelle, however, it gave her pause to think that the man she had always held great respect for all her life, was questioning his formerly unshakeable loyalty to the Imperials cause.

Her thoughts continued to tumble contradictingly about in her head as she kissed her father goodnight later that night. Driving back to campus, the cool air whipping her hair about as she drove did little to bring clarity.

Certainly, dinner tonight had been more revealing than anyone had anticipated.

[Estelle Russard]

The old man, now eased into the bed and tucked snuggly under thick covers, thanked his twi'lek nurse. He patted her hand gently after she'd given him his bed-time pills and smiled one of his rare smiles.

"You are too good to me Lissa, but I thank you for it"

"They love you, you know Mr. Russard" she said as she fluffed his pillow. "You should not be so harsh toward them"

Lissa had no reserve in sharing her opinion with Jason the elder. She had been at his side day and night for 5 years now, and they held no secrets. She, more than anyone, understood how the old man felt so futile in his existence. Were he a young man, he would join the Rebel cause with abandon, so disillusioned had he become with the Empire which to him had once embodied all that was noble and disciplined and true.

The Imperials still held those attributes amongst those who served in their ranks for the most part. It was only their objective that he felt had changed. That, and that its leaders had allowed themselves to embrace the sinister Palpatine and cater to his evil biddings. The lines of what was right and good had been blurred - and in the old man's thinking - been lost in the quest for glory of the whole. Instead of a liberator and peace maker, the Empire had become a tyrant. Unfeeling and unbending in its ambition to rule the galaxy.

And he, Jason Russard, was too old and too insignificant to change it.

The old man closed his eyes at last, allowing the drug-induced sleep to claim him. Only then did Lissa then prepare herself for bed.

*******************************************


"You ready?"

James was on time the next day. Exactly on time.

He had arranged to pick Estelle up at 6:30pm for the "big" meeting with the "real" rebel guys and the chrono on the wall had just flipped from 1829 to 1830 when he knocked sharply and opened her door.

"I just gotta grab my coat" Estelle called from inside the room.

He knew not to be early, because then Estelle felt rushed, and flustered. And that got her irritable. James did not want her irritable, not tonight. Tonight was too important.

James smiled. Beamed, even, when Estelle stepped with him out of the dormroom.

"I thought you might change your mind, Estelle. Bale out on me."

Estelle hooked her arm through his and gave him a squeeze.

"I said I would come with you, I meant it. It's going to be fun"

James stopped midstep, turning serious eyes on her.

"No, Estelle, this is not fun. This is serious stuff. You have to treat it seriously."

Estelle responed to his mood.

"I know. I'll be serious. I know its important to you, and I want it to be important to me. I get it, James. I really do."

"Ok" he said, placated. "We'll make time for fun, later. I promise"

She squeezed his arm again and smiled sweetly.

"Lets go meet these friends of yours, then"

[Grace Van-Derveld]

CoCo District: Zap Arcades - 1830 hours

If you wanted the latest and greatest games, Zap's where it's at. A small chain of arcades found in the core systems, they prided themselves on having all of the newest games on their floors before any of the competition could. A promise well kept and what made the place also so popular was the wide range of games they offered.

Just as many girls could be found competing against the boys in Pod Racer Extreme. Controlled repuslors made the game seem quite realistic. And with the looks on the children faces, you'd think they were racing for real with such serious expressions. Perhaps the next Tycho Celchu could be found within the TIE flight simulators scattered around the arcade. For those not a hot shot pilot, there were your usual multiplayer ones. Unfortunately, an alarming amount of various military themed, shooters and general fighting games drowned out the fewer tamer games that were more of a fantasy role-playing setting.

Considering the current time, younger children ran amuck inside the arcade, trying to get their last few credits worth of gaming in before their parents picked them up for the evening. Teenagers were starting to filter in more prominently now with a few adults, who were actually playing the games and not watching the children. It wasn't very loud inside. There was a decent amount of background noise with all of the computerized sound effects. Conversation had to be upped a decibel because of it, but no one was shouting to be heard. Except for the occasional declaration of victory.

This is where Grace told James to bring his girlfriend. It wasn't an obvious meeting point and no one inside would care about the trio. There were plenty of small groups huddled around who were engrossed in trying to obtain new high scores.

She was waiting by one of the sidewalls, dressed simply in a plain t-shirt and jeans. Her choice of game. Commando Assault. One by one, she picked off enemy troops with the remote blaster pistol provided and picked up an audience as well.

"Wow, Lady!" The boy's big blue eyes widened in amazement at her perfect score. No civilians were killed either. "That was awesome!"

A smile couldn't be helped as she looked down. He was cute. Probably seven and had a face that was going to be a heartbreaker when he grew up. She brought the barrel to her lips, blew away the invisible smoke and threw him a wink. "Thanks, Kiddo." He blushed.

She put in another credit and checked her chronometer as her admirer was called away, presumably by his mother. Good timing too. James and Estelle would be arriving shortly and she would have had to leave her young audience anyway to discuss those grown-up matters that children hated to be excluded in.

Let the child be happy for now and live in a world of make believe provided by Zap's. They shouldn't have to worry about fighting for a better place in the galaxy. Grace has seen too many children come through the Rebellion scarred physically from Imperial justice or orphaned because of it. The purging she witness on Cathar ...

She frowned and laid into the enemy the game provided her. Every dead solider was another Stormtrooper. A decorated officer became an Imperial groundpounder. This became her outlet to stop her mind from wandering into bad memories. It was bad enough they filtered into her sleep in the forms of nightmares, but it was too soon. Grace didn't want to relive them just yet. Not until Estelle arrived.

[Estelle Russard]

The evening was cool, and Estelle had been glad at first she wore her coat. James, however, had trotted them along at such a brisk walk that she was starting to feel warm and quite a bit clammy.

She probably wouldn't have noticed it as much if James had been chatting to her like he usually did. Normally, Estelle had to stand sideways in order to slip a word in. But not tonight. James had that set look on his face, the one Estelle always joked about, calling it his "oh god its finals" face. She only saw him wear it when he was cramming for exams over stacks of books and holoscreen printouts in the library. It meant he was completely focused.

She was about to suggest a slackening of pace when James steered her abruptly to the left and into Zap Arcades.

"Um, I dont really think we have time for this right now James, do you?"

James looked at her, almost as if for the first time he remembered she was even beside him.

"Wha? Oh, no. We dont---aren't."

Okay, well that made no sense. Estelle frowned in annoyance.

Only when she realised James was methodically looking down the rows of games, left to right, did Estelle clue in. He was looking, expecting to find someone. This was the meeting place.

This was the meeting place? A games arcade?

It didnt seem very underground rebel activist-ish to her. She had been half-expecting to meet in a dingy backroom of some abandoned warehouse. She had pictured men--in long coats--with hats pulled low over their eyes-- smoking cigarettes.

She looked up at James, "This is the meeting place?"

"Hmhm" He gave her a distracted nod.

Estelle, too, then started to look around, though she had no idea who she was looking for.

"Oh! Pod Racer Extreme I love that game!" she squeaked.

A sharp jerk on her arm and a pull in the opposite direction, told her James had spotted his friend's friend. The PRE game, and her love for it, was forgotten.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace was on her fourth game now, close to beating the current high ranking champion. She had come close on her last two attempts and perfect scores were based upon accuracy and speed. It was petty, but the fact that someone who called themselves BanthaMan had a higher score then her didn't sit right with her.

Halfway through the last level, she spotted two individuals heading down the aisle. James she knew and the unfamiliar woman was obviously Estelle.

A realistic yelp came from the game, indicating she had been hit. "Bloody hell." Her aspirations to becoming the Commando Assault champion was a lost cause now and oddly it irritated her. She didn't know why but it probably was the same feeling that caused the kids to pump more credits into the machines.

She tossed the blaster away and half pouted, half glared at the high score listings that flashed across the holoscreen. BanthaMan was still first and Girlscout was second.

Grace shrugged and turned towards the couple with a sigh, "I don't see how anyone can beat these insane scores. It's impossible."

Her demeanor lightened up when James introduced Estelle. She smiled and extended a hand, "It's nice to finally meet you. James has talked a lot about you. And don't worry," she gave him a wily look, "It's all been good. I'm Grace."

[Estelle Russard]

"Hi, nice to meet you Grace"

Estelle took the offered hand and shook it while rising on her tiptoes to check out the High Score listings over the slender woman's shoulder.

"Wow, thats pretty good shooting" She twisted a look over to James who he gave her a "pretty darn good shooting" response by raising his eyebrows and puckering his lips.

"So" Estelle released Grace's hand and resumed level footing again, "are you taking us to see who we are supposed to see?"

James sputtered an embarressed cough, and smiled at Grace in chagrined apology as he explained to Estelle. "Er, Grace is the one we are supposed to see"

Estelle took a half-step backwards and looked Grace over with renewed interest and greater respect than her sharpshooting had previously aroused.

"Oh..." she trailed off feebly. "I, I didnt know. You are?"

Clearly, Estelle was completely incorrect in all her preconceived notions of this meeting, and felt at a slight loss because of it.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

"Yes. I am." Interesting. The look on Estelle's face indicated she was not expecting someone like Grace to meet her. It seemed to be a favorable one but Grace wasn't entirely convinced. Time to make certain of it otherwise she was wasting her time here.

"I was not James' first contact," she explained. "We were introduced through Allis about a week ago."

She had to stop herself. Already Grace was getting too far ahead and having a discussion of this nature would get uncomfortable pretty quickly if they continued to stand.

"Forgive me." She turned and pointed out a sitting area that was hardly being used. It would be private there. It's main purpose was a resting area of sorts for the patrons, but the cafeteria always saw the most traffic. "Please take a seat over there and I'll be back with some refreshments. You I know," she playfully waved James away. "And it won't be that awful swill you claim is beer either."

I presume the same for you?" Her question was directed at Estelle who agreed.

This was going to be the first opportunity for Estelle to change her mind and leave. Grace would take her time before she came back so the girl could make a firm decision. Curiosity would drive Estelle to stay more then anything else and from what James kept pressing about his girlfriend, she really was open to hearing both sides of any story.

Hopefully, that was true.

[Estelle Russard]

The pair sat as suggested and James reached over a finger, placing it under Estelle's chin and pushed up, effectively closing her gawping jaw. "Stop staring Estelle. You're supposed to be acting discreet."

Estelle turned her gaze from staring after Grace a little too quickly, and she fired both barrels at James.

"You know, you could have told me we were meeting Miss Intergalactically gorgeous herself James" Estelle added a slap for emphasis. "How many times have you met her? Once, twice? What?"

James dropped his head into his hand. Sometimes, Estelle acted so..so ... young.

"Is she really a ---- " Estelle lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper, one only James could hear, " -- a rebel?"

He nodded, looking up at her with honest blue eyes, "Dedicated her life to what she believes in"

He sounded a little awed by her.

Estelle felt a little awed herself. Here was a young woman, who didnt look much older than herself, doing something that really mattered to alot of people. That fact alone, wether Estelle agreed or not, in itself was laudable.

If first impressions counted for anything, Grace had impressed Estelle simply by virtue of her gender in such dangerous occupation and by the courage of her conviction to live in such a way.

Wether or not Estelle felt compelled to take up such a mantel remained to be seen.

Still whispering, she leaned close into James, "She seems pretty tough"

Again James nodded in agreement, "You should hear some of her stories, Stelle. You'll never see her the same again."

Open curiosity was plain on Estelle's face as she watched Grace come towards them, drinks in hand.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

While the bartender filled her order, Grace watched Estelle without her noticing. She wanted to know the girl's real reaction in meeting a Rebel Operative instead of what she showed on the surface. Knowing that Grace wasn't in eyesight would allow her the opportunity to assess Estelle's motives. Estelle trusted James, not Grace, and she would feel safe now and speak freely.

The two of them argued at first, but Grace had a feeling the cause of it wasn't because she was a Rebel, as evident by Estelle slapping James. She covered her chuckling with a hand, but eventually Grace observed the two of them talking quietly and Estelle's body posture didn't hint at her wanting to leave. She definitely wanted to know more and her face was lit in curiosity when Grace returned with the drinks.

"Corellian Ale." She proclaimed and set down a glass for each of them. "Best they had on tap too."

She set the tray aside and took a seat, taking a quick sip of her ale and regarded Estelle carefully. The girl probably had a million questions running through her head and really didn't know how to begin asking them. Grace just needed to help focus the beginning of the conversation and eventually Estelle would take over once she became more comfortable.

"You were surprised that is was me you were meeting." There was no offense in her voice though it looked as if James might apologize again. "Why was that?" An answer that Grace knew, but she didn't want to put words into Estelle's mouth. It was important that she speak for herself.

[Estelle Russard]

A hint of an awkward pause preceded Estelle's reply, but was soon disolved as her natural confidence surfaced and she began to speak.

"Well, yes, actually you were not what I was expecting -- though it's not like I meet people of your, er, persuasion every day, so not sure just what I was expecting really."

Grace nodded. It was as she had thought. She allowed Estelle time to continue, sensing that she would.

And which she did.

"Pardon my saying so, but you dont really fit the profile of a Rebel activist"

James turned a quizzical look on his companion.

"What?" Estelle defended, "I read"

James flicked an unsure glance over to Grace, looking for a reaction. There wasnt one.

Estelle addressed Grace again, speaking by rote:

"The average rebel insurgent is most often a product of personal failure to thrive in a changing environment, thus aligning themselves to rebellion and violence where there is a wide spectrum for success, ie; anarchy has no bottom line. 'The mind of the Rebel' by Johnathon E. Mayoss End quote"

James blinked at her.

"You, Grace, dont look like you've ever failed anything in your life. Why choose anarchy against order?"

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Estelle was a sharp, intelligent young woman. A well read one at that, but her head was being filled with Imperial Dogma at the school she attended, the Tarkin Institute of Art and Design. The school was re-named after one of the most tyrannical men to have existed in the Empire and provided the Galactic Empire a way to teach its next generation of citizens what was right and wrong.

The promotion of freethinking it claimed was a farce.

Such harsh comments would not sway Estelle's mind and would insult her intelligence. Having their conversation degrade into name-calling was pointless and would prove the Empire's point of view was correct. She would have to answer Estelle's challenge with a personal story. Perhaps it was too soon to do this, but Grace didn't see any other options. Debating Johnathon E. Mayoss, whom she was familiar with, wouldn't allow Estelle to understand Grace's decision unless there was something tangible the girl could process.

James looked as if he was having a mild stroke from what Estelle said. Grace, unlike James, didn't blink. "Actually, you're wrong in your assessment about me again, I'm afraid."

She was quite certain not many people could say that to Estelle, "You see, I was raised in a family who is very loyal to the Empire. We have very deep roots within the Imperial military as well. My brother served in the army and I desperately wanted to join him. I felt terribly left out. But as you know, women are extremely rare in the military, so you could imagine my surprise when I was accepted into the Corulag Academy. It was an opportunity of a lifetime."

Her expression darkened. "One in which I failed," bitterness seeped into her voice. "And it wasn't for lack of trying. I was only accepted into the Academy so I could be made an example. They set me up to fall. My will alone saw me through the first year."

She paused to drink. Her throat went dry from talking. "Imagine having to run five miles at five in the morning when the men got to run three. There was other physical nonsense I had to do, but that wasn't why I failed."

Years have passed since the incident, but the memory of what happened was a scar that could never heal. Grace lowered her eyes and focused upon her beer mug. She spoke softly now, barely loud enough for Estelle and James to hear. Both students noticed the Rebel's confident voice had disappeared and was replaced with an underlying shame. "It wasn't until halfway through my first semester of my second year that I was given an ultimatum in the form of three masked men breaking into my room and raping me. They told me that if I did not quit the Academy willingly, I would be forced to endure the same treatment every night until I did."

This was not a story she had told James. She allowed a moment pause for both of them to absorb what Grace admitted.

"I quit the next day."

A finger wiped away tears that wanted to fall and Grace lifted her mug up, the confident woman had returned. "So, given the opportunities that order has presented me, it's no wonder I drink to the cause I serve."

[Estelle Russard]

"Sheeeez..." James's inarticulate, but heartfelt, response whistled away into loss for something more appropriate to say. It was obvious he had not heard this one of Grace's stories before, and the color in his face, together with the curling of his hands into fists on either side of his beer mug, told how incensed such a tale made him.

Estelle had much the same kick-in-the-guts reaction, but held her peace. Instead she levelled a quiet, thoughtful study of the woman sitting across from her.

After a few moments, she found her voice to speak again.

"That's a horrible story. I cant say I blame you for changing sides"

Grace felt a "but" coming.

"But, and please dont think I would not do the same had I been in your place, but the cause of the rebels is a galactic cause. Yours sounds personal." Estelle managed a weak smile. "While I have no doubt James would fight a war for what happened to you alone" James's color deepened in acknowledgement that Estelle had the truth of it, "I know that what we have come here to discuss is bigger than any one of us sitting at this table."

Estelle sipped her beer, taking time to frame her next question without sounding insensitive and not choke on the fact that an institution that she had always held above reproach, was proved to be so malevolent.

"Atrocities happen, even in our own back yards. The Empire as a whole cannot be held responsible for some elitiest flyboys that cant handle a women doing a better job than them. What I need from you, what I need to help me understand all this" she swept her hand in a gesture to include James, Grace, the world around them "is what do you fight for? Is it hate for those that abused you? Revenge on the System?" Her voice grew passionate now. " The Rebels want to bring down our Government, our whole way of life."

She tried to calm her words, but it was difficult. Grace's tragedy had opened the floodgates to emotion.

"I have to know what is worth risking my own life and future for. Are the Jedi manipulators and tricksters, or not? Do the rebels want to rule the star sytems for themselves and extract their own justice on the Empire in a war of attrition, or not? Is it all about payback for Alderaan?"

Estelle felt selfish. Her life had been a cakewalk. Pampered, protected, priveledged. How could she have the audacity to listen to Grace's story and still want more from the woman?

She couldnt help it. She had to be convinced in her own mind that the Empire - the whole system - was wrong.

James put his arm around Estelle, recognising that she was now thoroughly worked up.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace set down her mug smiling. A true smile. Not the kind that was necessary to cover up hesitation or uncertainty when responding to the difficult questions poised by Estelle. They were valid points and she had every right to understand the cause of the Rebellion. One could never ask another sentient to change their way of thinking without justifiable reasoning. And that wasn't Grace's intent anyway, to change Estelle's thinking. Her sole purpose was to explain the Alliance's side of the story and for Estelle to make up her own mind on what was the truth. Though by the way the girl spoke, she seemed already convinced if Grace could provide the reason she was looking for. Perhaps the passion in her voice made Grace believe that Estelle was looking for the proper guidance.

Or maybe it was because Grace was hearing her younger self all over again. Estelle and her were so much alike that it was almost to a fault.

"You know what's ironic?" She chuckled. "That was almost verbatim what I told Keth when I was first recruited. Course, Alderaan wasn't destroyed at the time."

She noticed Estelle's confusion. "That's right. Intact. The Empire used that as propaganda in order to hide how organized the Rebellion was. Our cause goes back much further and did not begin as retaliation. No, this goes far beyond Alderaan and my personal attack at the Academy. Granted, it was a reason for me to start questioning the Empire, but it was not the sole factor in my decision. You made an assumption about me that was invalid and I wanted to address it, otherwise I try not to speak of what happened on Corulag."

Grace did not intend for her point to come across so sharp, but Corulag always brought out the worse in her and lightened her tone. "I understand your frustration, Estelle. When Keth approached me, I was in a state of denial. I kept blaming myself for what happened, as stupid as it was. Fortunately for me, Keth was a retired Imperial officer that had strings he could pull and offered to train me so I could reapply. At a different Academy of course. I had no idea he was a Rebel recruiter feeling me out and debates like the one we're having were common every time we spoke."

She paused, her hand stopping in mid-air as Grace's face grew pensive. It was important that this came off correctly and not like she was spewing out Rebel lies.

Her hand lowered once the right words came. "Eventually he asked me what would I do if everything I believe to hold true was a lie. I thought the question absurd. I wasn't sure what he meant by that and Keth just asked out of the blue. I told him I didn't know. Never being in a situation like that, I couldn't answer him honestly. He went quiet after that and regarded me carefully."

Grace found herself doing the same with Estelle all night. "It was then he informed me that the entire foundation of the Empire was built on such a lie. The Jedi. They were never the enemy of the Old Republic. They were merely scapegoats for the Emperor to exploit to get what he wanted. Complete control over the galactic government.'

Estelle had the very same look as she did when she heard this for the first time. "And you know what? I believed none of it. Keth wondered if I thought it odd that the very same day the Jedi Council supposedly attacked Palpatine was the exact same day the Senate was voting to give him more political control because of the Clone War."

She snorted, "I still thought him daft, but I wondered if I was so quick to judge. Keth asked for my faith and offered proof. My curiosity and desire to prove him wrong led me to agree and to Alderaan, where I met Bail Organa. He witnessed part of the slaughter at the Temple himself. Watch one lone Padawan that was no more then twelve, gunned down like an animal. If it weren't for Organa, the Jedi would have been hunted down to the very last sentient. He helped to protect and smuggle some of the Jedi off Coruscant."

Her voice held the same conviction as Estelle's did when questioning the Rebel, "So you ask why do we fight? It's simple. The Emperor is a powerful Force user who knew that the Jedi were the only ones in the galaxy that could stop his ascendance. By branding them traitors, he was able to wipe them out and assume power easily because he was perceived as a savior of peace. With the dissolving of the Senate, he crushed the people's voices and I have no doubt in my mind the reason Alderaan was destroyed was because somehow the Emperor found out Bail Organa knew more about him then he had anticipated, besides being one of our greatest supporters."

As well as a great leader of the Rebellion, but that was too sensitive to speak of to someone that was not committed to the cause. "I fight to bring power back to the people so their voices can be heard, instead of being told what to believe is right and wrong as one person dictates. A person that tricked the entire galaxy into believing a lie that he personally orchestrated and fooled us all."

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle listened intently to what Grace was saying, as did James beside her.

The two of them absorbed each word as a dry sponge would water. Grace could see in their faces that they believed her.

Estelle felt a twisting in her stomach. A knot that bore witness to her inner self that even though she didn't like what she was hearing, it all had the ring of truth to it.

It was not a pleasant experience.

For months now, she had sat through endless debates, arguments, discussions and theorizings of her peers. Though many were sincere, few of them held the impact of someone who had lived through this reality. Randolf, for all his zeal and energetic encouragement had failed to sway Estelle, she knowing that he did not have the weight of first-hand knowlege behind his words.

This, though only half-aware of it, was what Estelle had needed vocalized by someone who really knew. That the Jedi were not what the propoganda machine of the Empire portrayed. That the Rebellion was justified.

Grace looked at the two faces so earnestly looking into her own. James features wore the look of a man vindicated in his opinions. Estelle wore the look of a small child who has been robbed of all innocence in the wake of an expected but overwhelming loss.

"Does that answer your question, Estelle?" James asked gently.

Estelle's eyes started to brim with tears before she dropped them from Grace's gaze.

The three at the table shared a poignant silence.

It was not an easy thing to accept that long-held beliefs were based on abused trust. Estelle thought of her father for some reason, and how disappointed he would be to come to a similar revelation. She wondered if he ever could.

It was James who broke the spell of heavy quiet, "I think its best if we go, now" He took Grace by the hand and squeezed it in gratitude. "Thanks for everything, Grace." They all stood up from the table. James added, "We'll be in touch"

Estelle nodded her agreement, but couldnt really find any words to add.

She was grateful to Grace for being so honest but found no adequate remark. Having ones illusions shattered over a mug of beer comes with no etiquette guidline. So she, too, shook Grace's hand and echoed automatically, "Yes, thankyou Grace. We'll be in touch."

[Yun Tilgraze]

From across the pedway, a figure watched the two young students leave with keen interest. His eyes followed them as they crossed the length of the building and finally turned a corner toward the landing pads. Satisfied that no one was following them, Yun Tilgraze extinguished his cigara and stood up, tugging his trenchcoat straight.

That fifteen second observation created new information in each of their profiles. The couple was holding hands, James doing his best to be strong. Estelle was shaking.

He'd seen both of those same looks on candidates before. One was filled with enough vindication to make a kid think he can take on the whole Empire by himself. The other was dealing with the 20 or so simultaneous emotions that comes with having one's reality turned inside out.

They'd have to keep a close eye on both of them, just for different reasons.

The Alliance Army Captain headed off away from the arcade. He crossed over two pedways, turning north toward the rear of the bazaar. With the most casual of glances, he kept tabs on his surroundings, constantly reaffirming that he went unnoticed. Two turns later, he stepped into an alleyway behind the arcade.

"So," he said as he approached Grace. "What do you make of them?"

[Grace Van-Derveld]

The familiar sweet smell of Yun's cigara cued his arrival well before his question. Knowing the Captain, he already had his thoughts about the new prospects. Grace would simply fill in the blanks to see if his initial assessment was correct

She crossed her arms and did her own inspection of the alley. When she felt safe that no one followed Yun, she began, "James already wanted to be part of the cause well before I spoke with him. His convictions are strong, but so are his emotions. It was strikingly obvious when I told him about Corulag."

They exchanged a knowing glance and Grace moved on, "He could be a loose cannon. I'm afraid to put a gun in his hand. Estelle on the other hand has a good head on her shoulders. I believe once she finishes digesting the truth, she will be a willing ally and be of great help to us.

And," she answered the unspoken question because it would be Yun's next concern, "the transmitter's in place as discussed."

[Yun Tilgraze]

"Good," Tilgraze replied.

"I know you'd like to think she'll sort all this out the right way. But I've seen too many of them fold. We have to be sure. With the rescue operation underway on Tatooine, and over half the fleet gathered in one place like it is right now, it's too dangerous for us to even be here."

Tilgraze glanced past Grace's shoulder, noting the time crawl around the base of a giant holovid. So far they were right on schedule.

"Stay focused on the primary objective."

[Estelle Russard]

The mindset of James and Estelle as they exited Zap Arcades was very different to that with which they had entered.

They both retreated into their own thoughts, sparing little attention for anything else during the long walk back to campus. With hardly a full sentence uttered by either of them, both were wrestling with what they had heard.

James was more convinced than ever that he needed to do something and lend his own efforts to the struggle. What had happened to Grace on Corulag had incensed him. With the fearlessness of youth and self-righteous indignation of an upright heart, James could slip easily into the role of defender and protector. He had been easy to manipulate -- Grace would have seen that instantly, but only because he had wanted to be manipulated. He had not been the one needing convincing on coming to this meeting. Hearing Grace's stories only cemented his own stance.

Now, He only hoped Estelle felt the same way. He wanted her in this with him. He ventured a glance at her as she walked beside him, trying to read her from her expression.


Her brown eyes were focused on the street ahead of her, the lights of a thousand neons reflecting in their soft pools.
James could see her temple pulsing rythmically as she brushed an errant strand of her hair behind her ear to keep it from whisping into her face with the light breeze. He loved those ears. So small, perfect. The image moved him strangely and he suddenly, desperately, wanted to protect her from everything that was bad and harsh. He wanted to save her from all the awful things of the galaxy. Grace flashed to his mind's eye and James caught his breath. How could such horrible things happen to such delicate and precious things? Grace risked great danger to herself by fighting for the rebels -- risked worse things than those she had already been exposed to. Did he really want Estelle to risk the same? An unexpected and disturbing revelation hit him. A picture of brutal violence rushed his mind, Estelle fighting for her life, rough snatching hands grabbing at her, tearing at her, her voice screaming his name to help.

He clamped his eyes shut, thrusting the abhorrent images from his head. He felt as if he had been kicked in the groin. Such terrible risks..As he looked at her now, he saw possibilites of things that could happen. Grace's story, her intense gaze, suddenly seemed to accuse him. For the first time he realized what joining up for Estelle could mean. He had no fear for himself. None. But he knew he could not ask her to do it. He knew he could not let her.

"I don think you should join"

Her reverie broken, Estelle looked up, "What?"

"The Rebels" he said, an odd tightness in his voice, "I dont want you to join"

Her eyebrows knit together in a frown of confusion and she opened her mouth to respond, but he jumped in ahead of her.

"You can do more by working through legitimate means. Through government, politics - that sort of thing. Ive been thinking about it. All this cloak and daggery is not you, it's not your style."

"Ooh? But it's Grace's style?" she was miffed.

"No, no. I just mean that you'd be terrible at it. You're too honest. You cant even lie to the librarian about books you keep late."

He was stupid to bring her to this meeting. Stupid. He cursed himself for his blind zeal. How could he forgive himself if anything happened to her. He would fight enough for the both of them. But she had to stay safe. He fought again the awful image that threatened to rush him.

His voice took on a harder edge. "You just would endanger people, Estelle.."

Estelle didn't like his tone, and with a stubborness all too familiar to him, she ended the conversation with a tone of her own.

"It's not your choice to make"




Cont. Part 2 (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?s=&threadid=38859)