Private "Fresh off the boat"

[Titus of Epoch]

Home.

A powerful word, but what did it mean now? It had been sometime since the Razing of Ession, yet for a true Son of Ession the only home they could find was battle.

Until now.

It had been sometime since he'd considered settling for a new home, a new banner. Ever since Abrams left the Core Worlds to aid his brothers in protecting his people, refugees from a broken world, across the galactic stage. Ever since the Imperium, ever since Ession. Jace looked out through the port side view upon the world designated FG-something something not Ession. His cold eyes laid on the vast horizon before him, long blades of tall grass rippling in waves under them as the large freighter made gusts through the surrounding area. Before they touched down, anyone with a set of eyes and a view outward would locate the domed buildings in the distance. Dura-crete and -steel met to form large temporary colonization centers for the Essionion people, minimalistic but entirely self sufficient. The facilities provided to the Essionians were state of the art and well defended by a nearby prefabricated base, courtesy of the First Order. That's right, THE one and only First Order. Risen from the ashes, the once totalitarian government provided relief to the Essonian people in their time of need.

Jace gripped his seat as the vessel touched down into the seemingly endless grassland, he felt the force of the old metal as the freighter rose up and down with a hard bump. The view ports subsequently became less transparent until their view disappeared completely from the steam emitted from the exhaust ports. Everyone rose in line slowly, some with hope on their faces, others with the dead eyes from the horrors they suffered, for better or worse this was their new home. Refugees lined up single file and began to slowly make their way out toward the main loading ramps. Taking that as his que to leave, Abrams unstrapped himself from his seat and followed in line to set foot on their new homeworld. Slinging his bag over his shoulder with his left arm, he gripped hold of his rifle case with his right and in pace with the others disembarked the vessel. The light stung his eyes as he came down the slope towards the grassy plains, the distant mountains rose up to kiss the sun as his vision adjusted to his surroundings. His eyes scanned the area, looking over the people around him who had lost everything. It still broke him how much they had lost. By the Ashla, they'd make this work, they had to.

Abrams broke rank and file from the others as he moved off on his own, his eyes catching the occasional First Order stormtrooper in the distance monitoring the scene.

Gotz Redwall

 

[Gotz Redwall]

The change from a vagrant lifestyle to something more established had not been easy. His people had been uprooted many times in the years since the fall. They were scattered in enclaves across the galaxy, stuck living as refugees in service to their benefactors. It was unbefitting for a people with the history they had.

That problem had been solved for a brief period during the zenith of the imperium. His people had ruled, and done so justly, but the decadence of the core was too much. Moral rule did not line coffers; the bureaucrats and corporations worked from day one to undue his people’s work.

All that remained of their empire was a bureaucratic machine calling itself a republic. It wasn’t home, and many of his people were starting to answer the call. In the First Order there was a future, and colonization efforts were already being planned by the administration.

The Essonians people’s future was not in their ancestral home of the east, the one they had made themselves in the galactic center, but the wild lands of the west.

Redwall lingered in such thoughts as he blew another puff of smoke from his tabac pipe. He made a point of receiving the refugees personally. It was only fitting, given he’s been the one to send the invitation.

“Got another batch,” he mumbled to his adjutant. “We should probably go greet them,” he paused to adjust his glasses, “And maybe get them some caf to welcome them home. Ashla knows the trip probably wasn’t smooth.” Without further ado, the brigadier general sauntered on to the group, a faint smile lightening his craggy face.

“Welcome to the First Order my brothers and sisters. I hope your trip was uneventful.”

 

[Entrasia Ontalis]

Entrasia nodded, a she began pulling up manifests and personnel records. It was important to find the person in charge of this group and get them integrated as quickly as possible. The screen of her datapad was more home to her than Ession at this point, not that she knew the planet very well. It was destroyed when she was young, and she had been fighting ever since.

"Yes sir." She said.

She nestled the datapad in her arm before pulling out a holocommunicator, dialing in for the quartermaster. They picked up a few seconds later.

"What is it Lieutenant?" They asked.

"Boss wants Caf for the new arrivals." Entrasia replied.

"Got it, and about that favor..."

"We can talk about it later, he's right here." Entrasia whispered.

"Copy."

The call then ended. Entrasia had negotiated a deal to get her extra stim packs, it wasn't strictly legal but there weren't many other ways she could work as much as she did. Her boss was probably aware, he just either didn't care or in some way approved. That wasn't the concern at the moment, she had work to do.

As her general stood beside her, she did her best to look like a proper adjutant. She remembered how they looked on the holovids, back straight, datapad held close to the chest, beaming with confidence. She had most of it down, however she looked more exhausted than anything. Sleep deprivation could be avoided in many aspects with drugs and force of will but there wasn't much you could do about looking like a zombie.

Gotz Redwall Titus of Epoch

 

[Titus of Epoch]

The wind rose to a howling gale as the long blades of grass scattered forth, waving violently toward the distant horizon dotted with mountains. Parting with his passing, the grass was brushed aside as Abrams approached the welcome party from his own angle. Entering the clearing where the majority of the refugees gathered, Jace joined the fray as a personally unfamiliar figure began to speak. He took his place between two refugees, a male in his late thirties and a elderly woman at least in her early seventies. Tossing his bag from over his shoulder onto the ground below, he set his weapon case down from his opposite hand, lowering his body slowly.

Abrams rose with an audible grunt, his arms extended outward above his head. Jacen stretched out, the long trip wore down on him and he could feel the sharp pop in his back as he reached up toward the sky. His eyes opened after a brief period of closure and adjusted to the sight of Redwall and Ontalis before him. The mumbled whispers of the refugees silenced as the Essonian spoke, welcoming his people to the open arms of the First Order. Former allies of the Sith Empire, the very culprits of their broken world, now reformed? It was too good to be true, he remained skeptical yet firm in his devotion to his people. By the Ashla, he didn't like it but what choice did they have?

The First Order resembled the Imperium in many ways, yet differed in obvious others. The strict hierarchy and imposed order was something he could admire in a galaxy so torn by chaos. How many worlds suffered fates like Ession or worse? Democracy was a lie, at least in the form the Republic and it's successor proposed. There would always be someone to pull the strings, and with corruption rampant in the various senate based organizations or governments, it only showed the effective strength of a centralist backed government. The First Order provided this security, yet their dubious past left severe doubts and worries to the Son of Ession, he worried for his people.

With a grunt, Jacen spoke, "Long. Many of them are tired. Former Imperium Son of Ession, Sgt. Jacen Abrams. Apologies for speaking out of line, but... I'm going to address the elephant in the room. What's the big picture, what is our role here?"

Gotz Redwall Entrasia Ontalis

 

[Gotz Redwall]

"A pleasure Sergeant Abrams," Redwall offered a gloved hand to the man.

He'd kept a decent eye on the plight of his people. The various enclaves scattered throughout the galaxy were host to the influence of their benefactors, though the possibility of reprisal from the estranged military was enough to keep them from being oppressed by most. Even still, there was no safer place for his people than under his own banner and protection. The exodus from the east was a necessary struggle for the survival of his people and culture, even if it proved to be initially unpopular.

"I am Gotz Redwall, former field marshal of our forces on the homeworld. That title has long since been defunct however, as you well know," there was a hint of sorrow to the man's voice, but he did not let it infect his posture or expression. The loss of the homeworld was close to Gotz's heart - indeed, it was his entire reason for persisting as he had been.

A handful of men rushed forward to assist the refugees in offloading their supplies. Redwall wanted to join them, but this was a more important matter. If the leaders of this group did not understand his vision then separatism was not just a possibility, but an inevitability.

"We've chosen odd allies," he murmured, "But the First Order is not what it once was. They believe as we do, and their leadership has been revolutionized. Here we are valued for what we have to offer. We can build a future for our people under their sponsorship," he paused, "But we are not servants. Eventually we'll have our own state, in time."

Another pause as he looked out to the refugees. "Or that's the hope, anyway."

 

[Entrasia Ontalis]

She had been long used to Brigadier General Redwall's way of speaking. He loved to give long philosophical speeches to just about anyone who would listen. Despite the length people very rarely seemed bored by them, which seemed rather unusual given her experience with people of his standing. Perhaps there was some underlying truth to what he said that kept people interested.

Every word was to be transcribed and recorded unless she was told otherwise, and she had no problems fulfilling this task. Most of her younger years were spent as a transcriptionist anyway.

Life in the First Order was better than that as fresh mercenaries. It was much more like it was under the Imperium, a proper government with supplies and resources that afforded her precious reprieve from her self inflicted overwork. She had little idea of how much he cared for her presence, but it was irrelevant, she was happy to work for him. This is the exact kind of position she had been working for since she had joined the army.

"Greetings, I'm Lieutenant Entrasia Ontalis, Assistant to the Brigadier General, at your service. If you need anything please let me know." She said, before giving a practiced bow.

Gotz Redwall Titus of Epoch

 

[Titus of Epoch]

The gloved hand extended by Redwall was met with his own, an audible clap followed the two hands meeting as the hardened warriors greeted for the first time. Jacen firmly shook the Brigadier General's hand, his muscular framed arms exposing his bold veins coursing through, years of combat experience and tragedy had shaped him. This much was evident in his stature and demeanor towards the Essonians before him. It struck home when he heard the man reveal his name and former title, top brass in the flesh, an honor to be sure. The hidden sorrow in his voice was not lost on him, Abrams knew too well the pain of Ession's loss, the same pain they all shared deep down in their core here.

He straightened his posture, tightening his grip further, "Apologies sir, it's an honor." Jace locked eyes with Redwall, a sign of respect, his gaze shifted only when the Lieutenant spoke up after, "Pleasure is all mine ma'am, it's good to see some brothers and sisters here to greet us. Many of us weren't sure what to expect when we were received by the First Order. It's going to be a test of time for most of the civilians.. and vets." He was no longer officially military, however that didn't stop him from feeling like he should standing at attention. He made sure to keep an air of respect for the officers present, they had experienced everything he had and more.

Abrams listened intently as the Brigadier General spoke and nodded his head, soaking up everything he turned to the two. He rose his hand to his chin and cupped it, after a brief pause he lowered his hand. "How can I help? If you need soldiers for our people, I'm your man. Anything for the cause, anything for our people." It was an easy decision, a purpose greater than himself, a chance to rebuild their glory. He wanted to be apart of that, give the Ession people a reason to move forward.

His eyes briefly scanned the refugees as they moved along, the waves of civilians were being helped with their belongings to the shelters and colony ahead. He tended to keep to himself and help everyone, yet there was something about a select group of refugees that bothered him. Roughly fifteen refugees passed by muttering to themselves, following a elderly man in dark robes, they chanted to the Ashla. Jacen felt a shutter pass over him, something was wrong with them. Unlike the priests and valiant Jedi Lords who fought with the Imperium, these people were close knit and secretive. They whispered of past scenes and events to come among each other and sought the guidance of the 'Elder', a Seer of some sort. The problem was that others came to him, they sought guidance and he whispered to them promises from the Ashla to them, heretical in his eyes. He was no Jedi though, and the Essonians needed all the hope they could get. Jace couldn't help but feel something sinister was going on around them, around this strange seer.

Gotz Redwall Entrasia Ontalis

 

[Gotz Redwall]

If there was anything they needed more of, it was armed men with the experience to use those arms. the First Order could provide an army of its own accord, but Gotz needed people directly under his sphere if he was going to make any kind of waves in the near future: people he could call upon at a moment's notice, without having to await the slow cogs of bureaucracy.

"Oh, we'll need you brother. Don't worry about that," Gotz offered a wide, warm grin as his gaze followed after Abrams' to the secluded group at the back of the throng of civilians. They had an odd vibe to them, for lack of a better term. Gotz was never blessed with the precognition of the Ashla that so many Essonian Jedi had lorded over, but he had a strong sense of intuition.

It was telling him to be alert, though as to why he wasn't certain. The brigadier chewed on his lower lip for a moment as he considered, then lit another puff of tabac smoke as he seemed to think better of it.

"So far as I know," Gotz began to mumble as he turned back to the duo, "The First Order is still in a state of recovery. It'll be some time before they're about to fund any proper campaigns. In the meantime, we'll make ourselves useful, acclimate our people, and try to build up some kind of influential base on Dosuun."

Another puff, "We'll be a bit low key," he paused, "Either of you want some Bluesky? The cantina is calling me."

Entrasia Ontalis , Titus of Epoch

 

[Entrasia Ontalis]

Something else bothered Entrasia about the mysterious seers, she had never heard of them. That was abnormal, as somebody who tried their hardest to keep on top of things, this was a relatively new occurance. There was no information, research, statistics, or any of the other things she usually relied on to make decisions and that was beyond terrifying. It would be difficult to find out more about a group who intentionally wishes to remain hidden.

However, that was a problem for later, or so she hoped. If it was a problem for now she was woefully unprepared. That was besides the point, right now she was just asked out for drinks.

"Are you paying, sir?" She asked struggling to keep a straight face.

While she wasn't poor, apparently the first order pays time and a half overtime, she wasn't above bumming off her superior officers. Besides, he was the one asking, who was she to not assume that we was intending to pay.

It also helped that she was an officer, unlike this gentleman here who she could only assume was enlisted. Though by the way he carried himself, he was certainly good officer material. She would have to look into it, though he certainly wasn't the bureaucrat type. She needed to train a successor anyway, she didn't intent to stay Redwalls assistant forever.

Gotz Redwall Titus of Epoch

 

[Titus of Epoch]

The small crowd of followers moved away in close proximity to the 'Seer', they slowly faded from view. Abrams hadn't a chance to get a good look at the figure, he was too well covered by his tattered black robe and surrounded by followers. It bothered him, the whole thing felt bad. His eyes adjusted back to the officers present once more, he let the distraction pass by knowing there wasn't anything he could do, or very well should do. Let the people find hope where they could. "Then you have yourselves another 'Son of Ession' brother and sister, for the cause." Jace gave the two officers a brief salute and exhaled deeply. For the slightest of moments, a smile came across his face as he heard the Lieutenant question the Brigadier General over drinks. "A drink sounds good."

Jacen extended his hand outward with his palm open, gesturing for them to proceed to the nearest cantina. A sense of normality, a feeling at least that resembled it, he couldn't remember the last time he had simply bought drinks or relaxed. It was different, it reminded him of before the war, before the breaking of their home. Abrams followed behind the two closely, he was new here and wanted to soak in everything while they were in discussion. It was important to know your surroundings, regardless of the situation, something his training had taught him as a valuable mindset. "Dosuun huh? Interesting choice for their capital. Reconstruction aside, if they live up to their promises then maybe they will be a force of change, one the galaxy desperately needs right now."

He briefly glanced back in the direction of the refugees around the area, his eyes returned to the forefront not a moment later. "We'll see how quickly they grow used to making use of Essonian muscle once they start putting boots on the ground. Things will change, quick." He could see the cantina ahead outside of one of the dome like structures that formed part of the colony. Jace could see the glowing Aurebesh above the establishment spell out 'Galb's Den', he doubted it was an Essonian or at least human's establishment. Underneath the glowing sign sat a set of double doors that peeled open with a thunderous sound of swift electronics as the entryway parted open for a patron entering. Abrams shook his head and continued on, ready to see what they would find next.

Galb's Den

Not a bad place to get a drink if you weren't particular on the quality, especially for a newfound colonization project. Being the only cantina for hours made it pretty lucrative for the male Duros, Galb, who owned the place. The inside of the cantina was clean and new, holographic projectors played repeat images of Twi'lek dancers, and newfound refugee patrons shuffled cards on the tables with Sabaac.

Gotz Redwall Entrasia Ontalis

 

[Gotz Redwall]

"When am I not paying?" Gotz asked, his voice dripping with good natured sarcasm. the Brigadier was not stranger to fraternizing with his troops, and generally covered the tab when it came up. His coffers were lined well enough during the Fall, didn't need everyone else trying to pay and keep up with him given their situations.

"Happy to have you aboard Sergeant. Let's see if your liver is as good as your banter," he added as he stuffed another mass of tabac into his pipe. The smoke was heavy and sharp as it entered his lungs - Gotz welcomed its harshness. The substance had become a home away from home, a reminder of the old tabac fields of the homeworld, of what once was.

He didn't say much on the brief walk to the cantina. Most of his attention seemed glued to the inlays of information flowing through his lenses. It was all status reports and updates to manifests, but it was important enough to keep an eye on nonetheless.

"Shot of rum for me, and open up a tab. I have these two covered," he mumbled, gesturing to Entrasia Ontalis and Titus of Epoch . "A shot for each of them too, actually." He turned to face the duo. "I'm afraid you'll not have much luck if you try to keep up with me. I known throughout the galaxy for my indominatable drinking."

 

[The Messenger]

The inside of the cantina thundered with noise, patrons bustled through the establishment and lined the pockets of Galb with fat credits. Holographic images of both dancers and musicians alike gave a sense of how new the place was, and how far from their homeworld they really were. Essionian bred humans easily held the majority over the demographic here, very few aliens were among the bar patrons, the few that were about easily displayed an air of discomfort. It was plain to see the amount of xenophobia present among the refugees, things had changed, they wanted someone to blame. Galb could see it, yet he made no attempt to interfere with his profits. As long as the refugees kept coming in, he kept serving them drinks.

Galb nodded his head in reply to Gotz and set himself to work. The Duros began pouring shots for each one of them, adding a tad more to make sure Redwall got his credits worth. "You'd think with all the traffic coming in you wouldn't have time to socialize. A whole lot of new faces coming in. I don't envy any of you, what a job!" Galb set the bottle down and slowly, carefully picked up the glasses and slid them one at a time towards their respective place. "Alright Lady and Gentlemen, enjoy." He spun around the moment he felt that the party was satisfied and would not require his services. The three were left to their own devices, yet this would not be deemed to last.

A loud hush flooded into the cantina, whispers followed from the lips of the bar patrons as a elderly man dressed in dark robes entered Galb's Den. The man was the very same individual who led the Ashlans earlier, his skin was scarred and his eyes damaged. His long robe hid his many features, marks earned in the Vong's Embrace of Pain. The figure stood quietly, nearly motionless. A very odd sight, especially here, the figure rose his arm and pointed at the group. It was only seconds later before he vanished again from eyesight. His eerie presence gone once more. Galb moved away from his latest satisfied customer and returned to the group. "I'd say he wants you folks, what did you do? ..and where did you meet a weirdo like that?"

Gotz Redwall Entrasia Ontalis​