Jaden Luka
Oct 12th, 2017, 12:55:35 PM
People said that every planet in the galaxy had it's own unique charm. Each world had it's own spin on flora and fauna, weather patterns and rock formations that weren't quite like every other, an atmospheric composition that didn't quite smell or taste the same as all the rest.
Those people had clearly never set foot on Selitan.
Jaden was not a hateful person by nature. He'd heard that darksiders bragged about the fearsome power that anger and hatred gave them, but Jaden always found them a drain rather than a boon. It didn't fill him with strength and convey him closer to greatness; it left him tired, and bitter, and empty. The darkness it filled him with tasted less of power and more of sorrow. So he made a point of avoiding it. He let himself get worked up about minuscule, trivial slights of course, like when someone spelt his name wrong on his caf order, or when people couldn't understand the simple fundamentals of how queuing worked; and there were a few rare exceptions that warranted such ire and spite that it overcame his best efforts and noble intentions. But rapists, mass murderers, and B-Wing advocates aside, Jaden prided himself on the fact that he didn't really hate anything.
Damn if this planet and it's current inhabitants weren't getting awful close, though.
Selitan was a miserable shithole of a world. Not naturally inhabited, it had been descended upon by the hyper-industrialised inhabitants of nearby Hynah, and plundered for every usable material it had. Such was the story for many of the worlds and systems on this edge of the Gordian Reach: the Hynese had carved an unapologetic swathe through the resources of countless worlds, moons, and asteroids. The more barren examples like Selitan were picked at like carrion birds on the ribs of some a long dead behemoth; the less fortunate were ravaged, poisoned, and polluted. A lucky few became havens of wealth and industry, but for the most part Hynah didn't really care: the wealth they reaped from the Reach all flowed back to the homeworld, barely a handful of scattered credits left behind.
This world was never intended to be inhabited. Sentient life had never evolved here, and the thin atmosphere could barely sustain those that found themselves upon it. Those who worked in the mines and processing plants did so briefly, either because of luck, escape, or death. In theory, that should have already begun to change. One of the fortunate small victories of the Alliance-Imperial Treaty had come against Hynah, the new border of the Alliance of Free Planets slicing through the Hynese supply lines and leaving Selitan and her neighbours free from the leech-like drain that Hynah posed. Yet, conditions here were as bad as they had been a while ago. According to Senator Kelvin Stark of Torque, dubiously elected representative for the Reach within the Alliance Senate, the situation was under review. Jaden had spent long enough with the Empire to know exactly what that meant.
It was not the minors that occupied Jaden's concerns, however: it was the groaning, shambling, malcontented herd of refugees that strained against the security barricades surrounding the Alliance's hastily constructed starport. The Alliance of Free Planets found itself amidst a refugee crisis, one that the Alliance Senate had the utmost confidence in it's ability to solve. After all, they had been born from the Alliance to Restore the Republic, and finding worlds to house and harbour those refugees fleeing from Imperial oppression was practically second nature. The problem was, the flow of refugees did not travel in only one direction. Not everyone who had been liberated from the rule of the Galactic Empire wished to be, and saw themselves as prisoners trapped under the oppressive rule of a terrorist state. They petitioned en masse for their worlds to be released back to Imperial control, and when that did not succeed they petitioned for the Alliance Senate to see to their relocation.
Fearing the kind of uprising that a discontented population could cause, the Alliance leapt into hasty action, refugee centers established at various points along the Alliance-Imperial border, and Selitan had become one such site. The self-described oppressed had arrived in droves, crammed into makeshift camps and shelters, awaiting the next transport that would ferry them like farm animals to Hynah, Toprawa, Junction, and more, where the Empire was free to collect their citizens should they choose; or the refugees could take it upon themselves to make their own way through the stars. The Alliance government seemed to care little what happened to them once they passed beyond the border: out of sight and out of mind was the objective, and worlds like Selitan represented the apparent edge of the Senate's vision and interest.
It was a grim situation, made grimmer by the polarizing nature of the refugees themselves. Perhaps some sincerely believed that the Galactic Empire was the better option. There were families here; mothers with young children, to unsure about this new Alliance of Free Planets to risk gambling her infants' future. Others were scared, lacking confidence in the Alliance to protect them when the Empire inevitably returned to reclaim it's territory, seeking relocation to safer worlds that would not be in the line of fire when that war finally came. Those souls were quiet though: it was the worse sorts that demanded notice. Patriots. Zealots. Fanatics. Supremacists. People who refused to live in a state where the government was weak, where it was willing to entertain the fallacy that aliens should be seen as equals, whose mob mentality had already taught the Alliance that assigning non-humans to work security only resulted in harm and hospitalisation.
Swallowing that pill had been difficult for the Alliance. It prided itself on it's diversity, and the way it strove for equality and inclusiveness. That the Cizerack, the Bothans, the Mon Calamari, the Sullustans, Sluissi, Bith, Wookiees and more were barred from these duties in the interests of their safety? People didn't like that. Officers grew bitter. Politicians embraced it as leverage. For all the noble efforts of the humans who had first given the Alliance life, once again the distinction between human and not had become a reality they were forced to grudgingly accept.
Jaden's nose wrinkled as he peered out across the field of hostility, trying his utmost to ignore the slurs and rhetoric being hurled and chanted by the crowd. He tried to remain detached and objective, but he knew where it came from. He knew which few were always the instigators, which few reacted first, which ones were simply swept up in the moment, and which ones chanted along for fear of what would happen if they did not. He knew which ones stubbornly refused as well, despite the threatening glares it earned them. It was all Jaden could do to keep the safety of his blaster rifle engaged, and fight the urge to weed out the infectious few who were letting their species and their sentience down.
Such action was kept at bay by the simple realisation of just how Imperial that mentality was.
Letting a small sigh vent a minuscule iota of his frustration, Jaden peered up as one of his A-Wings made a pass overhead. The non-human Valkyries were even more disgruntled about being sidelined than anyone else on the Novgorod. They had insisted that if they weren't allowed to be there to back up their pilot brothers and sisters down there on the ground, they'd sure as hell be keeping watch over them in the sky. Not that there was much one could do in a star interceptor aside from recon flights and escorting the refugee transports in and out of the atmosphere; but for them it was better than nothing, and Jaden had been damn proud about their refusal to back down.
"I see you, Two," Jaden said softly into his comlink, as Oolan Valx'ir - his wingman of old - supplemented his flyby with a casual spin. It earned a faint flicker of a smile, but it didn't last long; his attention was distracted instead by a glance up and down the security cordon, at the two unfortunates who were here standing ready to usher refugees onto the next transport when it arrived. As far as Ariana Darin was concerned, he had no concerns in the slightest: she'd been SpecForce before training as a pilot, and was Echani to boot; it was a source of considerable musing in Jaden's quiet moments about who would win in a fight between her and his old friend Amos Iakona. Kidd Smix on the other hand? The youthful looks and youthful name often lead to unfair assumptions about his capabilities; he reminded Jaden of Tristan Tahmores in that way, though he wasn't sure if either pilot would understand that the comparison was a compliment. Formidable piloting skills aside though, today's mission was a far cry from what they were trained for, and Jaden wished this deep end Smix had been thrown into wasn't quite as deep.
He drew the young pilot's attention with a gesture, but kept his voice quiet, relying on his comlink to carry his words across the few meters of distance. "You holding up alright, Kidd?"
Those people had clearly never set foot on Selitan.
Jaden was not a hateful person by nature. He'd heard that darksiders bragged about the fearsome power that anger and hatred gave them, but Jaden always found them a drain rather than a boon. It didn't fill him with strength and convey him closer to greatness; it left him tired, and bitter, and empty. The darkness it filled him with tasted less of power and more of sorrow. So he made a point of avoiding it. He let himself get worked up about minuscule, trivial slights of course, like when someone spelt his name wrong on his caf order, or when people couldn't understand the simple fundamentals of how queuing worked; and there were a few rare exceptions that warranted such ire and spite that it overcame his best efforts and noble intentions. But rapists, mass murderers, and B-Wing advocates aside, Jaden prided himself on the fact that he didn't really hate anything.
Damn if this planet and it's current inhabitants weren't getting awful close, though.
Selitan was a miserable shithole of a world. Not naturally inhabited, it had been descended upon by the hyper-industrialised inhabitants of nearby Hynah, and plundered for every usable material it had. Such was the story for many of the worlds and systems on this edge of the Gordian Reach: the Hynese had carved an unapologetic swathe through the resources of countless worlds, moons, and asteroids. The more barren examples like Selitan were picked at like carrion birds on the ribs of some a long dead behemoth; the less fortunate were ravaged, poisoned, and polluted. A lucky few became havens of wealth and industry, but for the most part Hynah didn't really care: the wealth they reaped from the Reach all flowed back to the homeworld, barely a handful of scattered credits left behind.
This world was never intended to be inhabited. Sentient life had never evolved here, and the thin atmosphere could barely sustain those that found themselves upon it. Those who worked in the mines and processing plants did so briefly, either because of luck, escape, or death. In theory, that should have already begun to change. One of the fortunate small victories of the Alliance-Imperial Treaty had come against Hynah, the new border of the Alliance of Free Planets slicing through the Hynese supply lines and leaving Selitan and her neighbours free from the leech-like drain that Hynah posed. Yet, conditions here were as bad as they had been a while ago. According to Senator Kelvin Stark of Torque, dubiously elected representative for the Reach within the Alliance Senate, the situation was under review. Jaden had spent long enough with the Empire to know exactly what that meant.
It was not the minors that occupied Jaden's concerns, however: it was the groaning, shambling, malcontented herd of refugees that strained against the security barricades surrounding the Alliance's hastily constructed starport. The Alliance of Free Planets found itself amidst a refugee crisis, one that the Alliance Senate had the utmost confidence in it's ability to solve. After all, they had been born from the Alliance to Restore the Republic, and finding worlds to house and harbour those refugees fleeing from Imperial oppression was practically second nature. The problem was, the flow of refugees did not travel in only one direction. Not everyone who had been liberated from the rule of the Galactic Empire wished to be, and saw themselves as prisoners trapped under the oppressive rule of a terrorist state. They petitioned en masse for their worlds to be released back to Imperial control, and when that did not succeed they petitioned for the Alliance Senate to see to their relocation.
Fearing the kind of uprising that a discontented population could cause, the Alliance leapt into hasty action, refugee centers established at various points along the Alliance-Imperial border, and Selitan had become one such site. The self-described oppressed had arrived in droves, crammed into makeshift camps and shelters, awaiting the next transport that would ferry them like farm animals to Hynah, Toprawa, Junction, and more, where the Empire was free to collect their citizens should they choose; or the refugees could take it upon themselves to make their own way through the stars. The Alliance government seemed to care little what happened to them once they passed beyond the border: out of sight and out of mind was the objective, and worlds like Selitan represented the apparent edge of the Senate's vision and interest.
It was a grim situation, made grimmer by the polarizing nature of the refugees themselves. Perhaps some sincerely believed that the Galactic Empire was the better option. There were families here; mothers with young children, to unsure about this new Alliance of Free Planets to risk gambling her infants' future. Others were scared, lacking confidence in the Alliance to protect them when the Empire inevitably returned to reclaim it's territory, seeking relocation to safer worlds that would not be in the line of fire when that war finally came. Those souls were quiet though: it was the worse sorts that demanded notice. Patriots. Zealots. Fanatics. Supremacists. People who refused to live in a state where the government was weak, where it was willing to entertain the fallacy that aliens should be seen as equals, whose mob mentality had already taught the Alliance that assigning non-humans to work security only resulted in harm and hospitalisation.
Swallowing that pill had been difficult for the Alliance. It prided itself on it's diversity, and the way it strove for equality and inclusiveness. That the Cizerack, the Bothans, the Mon Calamari, the Sullustans, Sluissi, Bith, Wookiees and more were barred from these duties in the interests of their safety? People didn't like that. Officers grew bitter. Politicians embraced it as leverage. For all the noble efforts of the humans who had first given the Alliance life, once again the distinction between human and not had become a reality they were forced to grudgingly accept.
Jaden's nose wrinkled as he peered out across the field of hostility, trying his utmost to ignore the slurs and rhetoric being hurled and chanted by the crowd. He tried to remain detached and objective, but he knew where it came from. He knew which few were always the instigators, which few reacted first, which ones were simply swept up in the moment, and which ones chanted along for fear of what would happen if they did not. He knew which ones stubbornly refused as well, despite the threatening glares it earned them. It was all Jaden could do to keep the safety of his blaster rifle engaged, and fight the urge to weed out the infectious few who were letting their species and their sentience down.
Such action was kept at bay by the simple realisation of just how Imperial that mentality was.
Letting a small sigh vent a minuscule iota of his frustration, Jaden peered up as one of his A-Wings made a pass overhead. The non-human Valkyries were even more disgruntled about being sidelined than anyone else on the Novgorod. They had insisted that if they weren't allowed to be there to back up their pilot brothers and sisters down there on the ground, they'd sure as hell be keeping watch over them in the sky. Not that there was much one could do in a star interceptor aside from recon flights and escorting the refugee transports in and out of the atmosphere; but for them it was better than nothing, and Jaden had been damn proud about their refusal to back down.
"I see you, Two," Jaden said softly into his comlink, as Oolan Valx'ir - his wingman of old - supplemented his flyby with a casual spin. It earned a faint flicker of a smile, but it didn't last long; his attention was distracted instead by a glance up and down the security cordon, at the two unfortunates who were here standing ready to usher refugees onto the next transport when it arrived. As far as Ariana Darin was concerned, he had no concerns in the slightest: she'd been SpecForce before training as a pilot, and was Echani to boot; it was a source of considerable musing in Jaden's quiet moments about who would win in a fight between her and his old friend Amos Iakona. Kidd Smix on the other hand? The youthful looks and youthful name often lead to unfair assumptions about his capabilities; he reminded Jaden of Tristan Tahmores in that way, though he wasn't sure if either pilot would understand that the comparison was a compliment. Formidable piloting skills aside though, today's mission was a far cry from what they were trained for, and Jaden wished this deep end Smix had been thrown into wasn't quite as deep.
He drew the young pilot's attention with a gesture, but kept his voice quiet, relying on his comlink to carry his words across the few meters of distance. "You holding up alright, Kidd?"