Battles, Stars, & Bases

[SotF]

Note: Mistyped in naming this, the name I'd been going for was Battles, Stars, & Knights

Prologue
Revan grinned to himself as he reached out with the force.

It had been two years since he had found his way to this place, someplace untouched by either of the two traditions whose paths he had once walked.

And with no sense in the force that matched any he had felt before, not to mention the vast differences in the technology, had convinced him that this was an entirely new playing field.

His new friends and allies had seemed to be in a position on the brink of disaster when they found him adrift.

Their position was desperate, though it had improved since then. The tragedy that engulfed the Twelve Colonies had ended up as a much needed boon to those with which he had allied himself.

It probably shouldn't have been as surprising that the Cylons had been on the verge of their own Civil War long before they made their own attack, and the decision to prepare for that war had many dissenters.

The standard Cylon response to the refusal to be a part of what was planned had been to box the offenders, something akin to a death sentence. A few had managed to acquire ships and flee before it could happen.

Pure luck had led them to a habitable world before their small fleets fuel had finally run out, and the lack of parts had left them unable to repair the damage and wear on those ships.

These escapees had found him, lost and adrift in an unfamiliar universe, and he had joined them.

Six months later, the bits and pieces of technology he had brought with him were analyzed and, at least partially, replicated with his help combined with the two companions he was able to rebuild from their backup datacores.

A primitive, in his eyes, hyperdrive had been designed with a small handful of them built. One of the Basestars had been quickly refitted with it and used to scout the surrounding space for the needed fuel.

With the guidance of the Force, he had led the expedition for the necessary resource that only required a short time, but also giving the fledgling nation another boon.

Before the first Cylon War, the Colonies had begun to take the first steps towards expanding from their worlds and into the greater galaxy. The Hermes was a ship designed to scout for other worlds either for colonial use, or for whatever civilizations were out there. The search for the mythical Earth was a stated objective for the craft.

However, the long term missions of the craft ended when it jumped into the middle of an Ion Storm at the same time the Cylon War began. The station and relays it was using to send messages were lost while the distress call reached their home.

They abandoned the ship in the hopes of reaching a haven, leaving a ghost ship to be found by the new nation searching for needed supplies, only a short distance from the very fuel supplies that had been hunted for.

It hadn't been a hard decision to repair the craft, moving the supplies meant to feed and support the largest craft ever built by either the Colonials or the Cylons, as well as the inactive though ancient Cylons that had been abandoned on the ship for decades.

By the end of the first year, the supplies that were needed had all been found and were in constant supply. The Hermes had been refitted for combat use as one of the four capital ships they had managed to bring into full working order with several upgrades brought on by the info in the restored T3's memory banks.

Three months later, they had managed to put their defenses in order, converting most of their Basestars into satellite stations in the system that were combined with other systems positioned to keep their world safe from anyone or anything they could think of.

With the necessity of keeping their few ships in the system removed, they had begun to raid the ship junkyards of both the Cylon and the Colonial ships. Towing what they could steal back to their world to recycle into newer craft.

The small raider fleet had been upgraded and retrained for the newer weapons the best of them were given access to before supply would let them all carry the weapons while the first ship based shields came online simultaneously with turbolaser, blasters, and ion weaponry.

Then another disaster had struck.

Revan had felt the screams of billions through the force when the other Cylons struck at the Colonies. And his allies had decided to aid the survivors as best they could, sending their ships in to rescue survivors from those they could not aid.

The fears of being enslaved as their predecessors had been what prevented them from warning the Colonies of their cousins plans for war. Plans that had, at first, seemed to be but an intelligence program to protect what they already had, before the first calls for war had crossed the datanets.

Now they could take advantage of their cousins errors in defenses, passing undetected into the Cylon held worlds to slip out those they could and steal the stored minds of their "boxed" brothers and sisters from the Cylon storage facilities.

And another opportunity had presented itself.

A Resurrection Ship had been mobilized from the deeper systems in the systems held by the Cylon Imperium. Something that would allow them to return their sleeping family to their side as well as restore their own abilities rather than facing the oblivion that would have followed.

That goal had led Revan to where he now sat, sitting inside the belly of a cloaked Heavy Raider as it neared the position.

Their own remaining ties into the Cylon Datanets had found the coordinates prepared for the Resurrection Ships escape if it would be needed. With any threat the ship was to jump away, which meant that they could spook it away from its guardians and let them board it.

The Hermes and one of the two armed Basestars, the third refitted Basestar being repurposed since the war as a medical ship that Revan had named a Medstar after the frigate class the Republic had used occasionally in times of war, would jump in and engage the Cylon fleet while the remaining Basestar was in position with fighters ready to deal with enemy Raiders deployed against them.

The plan would be for them to sneak in with the cloak while the fighters hammered it out until the rest of the fleets caught up with them.

Hopefully, their boarding action could be finished before then and let them Jump out on the 33 Mark to the cover where the ships of their fleet were assembling.

A brilliant flash and the glowing pink of the Resurrection ship materialized right on target.

The crimson flashes of blastercanon fire burning from the fighters waiting to slam into a number of the Raiders.

Termed Marauders, their own fighters were designed off of the Sith Interceptor that Revan had arrived in. Losing the missiles, though a pair could be loaded externally if necessary, they sported the heavies blastercanons that they could support in a configuration that mixed the older Raider shape with that of the Sith Interceptor. The shields and hyperdrive made them terrifying, being able to ignore the 33 limit, the mind, upgraded from the Raider minds to full sentience, had been trained in using microjumps and several other abilities that far outstripped their far more numerous cousins.

Only the best of the Raiders were allowed the new forms.

Another grin as his probe brushed the mind of the lead Marauder, allowing him to know what was happening around them. It was exhilarating to be able to communicate with the biomechanical fightercraft.

His allies had taken a phrase they had remembered and run with it. They wanted piece, and so they prepared for war with their hearts, minds, and souls.

May the Force have mercy on their foes, for the small Republic of Free Peoples would not.

A moments hesitation as he considered the past once more, the events that brought him here, the ones that placed him in command of an army willing to fight and die against those who had sacrificed the innocent in a mad crusade at what they believed to be the whims of their god.

 

[SotF]

Chapter 1 part 1
He sat there in the cockpit watching the distant twinkle of stars compared to the closer brightness of an unknown one.

Revan relaxed in a partial embrase of a trance as he remembered the events that directly led him to this position.

Since his encounter with Malak onboard the Leviathan, flashes of memory brushed his mind. Fragments of what he had been that he would have to accept if he wished to keep his sanity.

During his fateful duel with his former friend and apprentice, it was not anger or hate that he felt the most. It wasn't the serene calm the Jedi Council spoke of.

It was disappointment.

Malak had held a lot of promise and talent, but had wasted it on a mad quest for power and domination as opposed to the very goals the two of them had first agreed upon.

Revan had seen what was coming, first in countless dreams and visions that horrified him worse than even the Mandalorians Wars had.

When the Mandalorian Wars ended, after the Council had finally decided to lend their aid. The Jedi who had decided to do what was right from the beginning were expected to go with the ones who desired to make them learn from their lack of discipline.

Sanctimonious bastards, almost to the last one.

In the end, Malak had joined him for a short stint with the Explorer Corps of the Republic, both searching for a purpose and some peace after the war. They found their purpose soon enough, though they never found peace.

In the end, he decided to prepare an unwilling Republic that had declared the very Jedi who would not help as heroes.

And when that failed they decided to force it to prepare no matter the personal costs.

Malak had fallen far further than Revan ever had, losing sight of that goal and turned it into a desire to conquer rather than save.

He shifted in the seat of the fighter he had appropriated during his escape from the Star Forge.

Within moments of Malaks death, the attack on the station sealed off the way he entered, forcing him to find another way.

In the end, he'd managed to power up one of the consoles on the station long enough to create the fighter and ordered his allies to make their escape on the Ebon Hawk.

The plan had been good, but with the station collapsing he'd had to go through th ships core and then all paths seemed sealed.

A warning from the force prompted him to make a maneuver as well as activate the hyperdrive.

Now he was alone with himself for the first time in a long time, trying to make sense of everything with no major disaster left to deal with as he hoped to find a place he knew.

The calm weight of twin datacores in his beltpouches calmed him somewhat, the backups for the two Droids he'd come to know as friends. If nothing else he'd have them around to talk to if necessary.

One of the computers beeped with the sensor results, a planet suitable for life.

A grin crossed his lips and he pulled back on the stick.

No sense waiting here.

As the blue and green ball with whispy clouds came into view, the words of his fallen friend echoed in his head.

Savior, conqueror, hero, villain. You are all things, Revanà and yet you are nothing. In the end, you belong to neither the light nor the darkness. You will forever stand alone.

"No," he whispered as if in response to the statement, "I won't be alone, that was your mistake."

A brief pause as the grin faded again.

"Brother."

 

[SotF]

Revan heard the flow of water all around him.

Familiar and comforting scents touched his nose and he glanced about at his surroundings.

He recognized it, but at the same time realized the impossibility of it.

There was no possible way he could be in this place. Even if he had been injured enough to be sent to the Temple on Coruscant, the healers would never do something as foolish as to leave a patient in the Room of a Thousand Fountains if they were unconscious.

He remembered his time among the gardens and waterfalls from his youth.

Shaking his head to clear it, the twice trained knight glanced around.

"So you figured part of it out," came a clear voice he recognized from somewhere, but couldn't tell where from.

A motion drew his attention to a small grove of flowing trees, and to two figures there.

One was familiar, again someone he couldn't place, and the other was entirely unfamiliar.

"About time you stopped dreaming," the unidentified one snarked, "We've got a message to pass on."

xXx

"So do we have an answer Doc?" an eight asked as they watched the exam room where the human they found lay.

The white coated man chuckled slightly in response, turning to face her through the transparent partition to allow observation. He was one of the few of their own refugees that happened to have medical experience, and an unusual specimen on the fives.

"He's human," he answered before pausing to glance at the computer across the chamber.

"Do you know why a Colonial would be out here?" she asked, "Especially in something like that?"

"He's not a Colonial."

"You said he was human."

"Human, yes," he chuckled, "Colonial, no."

A brief pause as he walked out of the exam room and into the small dividing airlock to remove the gloves and toss the exam coat on a hook before joining her.

"He's got some exceedingly unusual bloodwork," he began to explain, "It's the oddest thing, missing several of the local antibodies from all of our genetic libraries and with hundreds of ones I can't begin to place."

He dropped his clipboard on a table and twirled his pen nervously.

"Then there is something that seems almost impossible," he continued as he clicked the writing implement casually, "Something is in symbiosis with his system."

"So what's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," came the response, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was dreaming."

 

[ttestagr]

Interesting. A bit short, but good from what I've seen so far. My knowledge of BSG is nonexistant though, so I can't really comment on the bare bones of the story :huh.:

 

[SotF]

Just as a general time line, Revan arrives about 18 months prior to the Colonial Holocaust. The escapee Cylons are the ones who find his fighter and end up with him leading them.

After the holocaust, those Cylons begin their own infiltration in order to rescue survivors (Prompting the modification of one of the Basestars into a medical ship or Medstar [A SW reference to a pair of books set during the Clone Wars, but makes sense here as well]).

With the resources gained, the rogue Cylons attempt to take the one type of ship they have yet to be able to reproduce as they don't have the plans for it. Six months post Holocaust, they plan their raid to capture a Resurrection Ship (That plan is what is shown in the Prologue).

 

[ttestagr]

You might get better feedback posting this on Spacebattles actually. BSG is a very common fandom there.

 

[SotF]

Gamma brooded from the refueling station on the maintenance deck.

He was one of the last of his kind, part of the transition to the new Raider design. The basics were identical, but the mind was different.

Rather than be forced to experiment with the programming to make a capable pilot, they started with one from the beginning. Twenty-eight Centurions that had seen combat during the first war, the best of the best in their field as it goes, were selected for the shift. Their consciousness had been transferred into the new craft, and they had been the ones to train the new fighter AI's in tactics that experience could teach.

It had been mere fate that allowed their survival, the new raiders were unfinished when the new models had decided on the boxing of their predecessors.

Four of Gamma's brothers had accompanied those refugees from Cylon space, contact was lost with them.

The remainder had waited for their own opportunity, doing their jobs while covertly gaining the allegiance of their charges and quietly supporting those who had voted against the boxing of the 0005 series.

They jumped ship when most of those who had voted to keep their brothers fled.

That firefight had been disastrous for them, only eight of them remained after their access to the resurrection net had been restricted. Many of their direct and a few of their students students had followed them.

His flight had survived intact, though that was mainly due to the fact that they had been in an area primarily used for training the new Raiders, where only a few of the fighters were not allied.

Gamma was also one of the patrol flight that had found the unknown fighter and queried the collective of their faction.

Now his interest was still on that strange craft, it was interesting to look at something human designed again. However, he could not believe that it came from their former enemies.

While he was a stranger to most human thought processes, Gamma was a fighter pilot, or at least he was until he became the fighter itself. That led to him wondering about the unusual lettering that his mind kept on running against the databases for a match.

Pilots, even cylon ones, would mark their fighter in some way, be it by a simple name or something more magnificent.

The works of art adorning the fuselages of Colonial fighters had been something he and several of his brothers had envied.

Now continued his vigil, adding the occasional query as to the health of human to the queue of tasks, with a bit of hope to find out about this new fighter.

 

[Mercsenary]

Interesting, I've never really been interested in BSG but... now I am. Moar?

The pacing is pretty good, not too fast, not too slow.

 

[SotF]

"What do we have left?" the One asked as he sat back in his seat around the conference table.

A pause as the half-dozen leaders of the escapees glanced towards the Two that cleared his throat.

"With the system as it is, most essentials are easy to come by," he stated slowly, "However, to have a working orbital defense against our cousins, we can have, at most a fourth of our ships ready to fight."

He paused for a moment as if to collect his thoughts.

"And that's with almost total conversion from ship to station setups of those," the man continued, "The rest of the baseships would have to be canibalized to even pull that off."

The weariness of the entire collective became visible for a moment then as he leaned back.

"And the good news?" a three asked a moment later.

"If we can get a jumpdrive operational again," he continued, "There were signs of Tylium in the area, so if we find it, we'll eliminate our second largest shortage."

"Leos," the three asked, "If the energy shortage is our second, what's the first?"

He grimaced, as one of the few to have been intended for the infiltration projects second wave Leos had an actual name rather than just the use of his model number with an unspoken code.

"Manpower," came the answer, not from Leos but from a four, "Or robopower if you want..."

He grinned for a moment as the minor joke broke the tension somewhat.

"There just isn't enough of us to really get much done, we just have to many needs at the moment to keep up with everything else."

"Correct," another two added, "We were a small minority to begin with, add our losses in the great escape, we are to few in numbers to get everything done."

"As usual it comes down to the basic choices of what we need most," Leos interjected, "Our Centurions are handling the ground duty with those of us with the most talent in those fields, and the rest of us are scrambling to keep everything on our ships running before something else goes wrong for us."

"Has there been any luck on scrounging enough parts to cobble togather the parts in order to use our resurection net?"

"No, there hasn't," the one added with a hint of sorrow, "Unfortunately certain parts for either the Instalation or the Ship versions are to specialized and hard to produce that our ships aren't carrying them."

They all paused for a moment remembering those that died during their own exodus from Cylon space.

 

[SotF]

The eight glanced up from her work in the centurion maintenance bay, their collective had begun to rework some of the older decisions the others had demanded before they escaped their cousins.

Her current focus was the telencephalic inhibitor that restricted the new centurions from being truly aware.

By modifying one off of a destroyed centurion, she planned to allow their machine brothers to be what their predecessors once were.

The plan did include leaving a few restrictions in place, as well as a secondary function that could be useful. She could see the wisdom in a direct inhibition against fratricide, and wouldn't be tampering with that part of it though an override was being added in order to allow their soldiers to be capable of fighting when those they fled from followed.

Eight had spent most of her time in working an emotional inhibitor into the device, one that could be activated if needed. It was a preventative measure based on some of what happened during their war for independence, the awakened cylons would cause serious damage as their emotions raged out of control.

It was the relative youth of the awakened that led to the lack of emotional control, the same reason the first line of infiltrators had been selected from some of the older members of each model rather than new ones like the deep cover operatives.

Emotional stability was something they needed just to do their jobs.

Her entire race had occasionally suffered from such immaturity and lack of reason in their actions.

Now she hoped that the future would allow them to grow.

 

[SotF]

Chapter 1: Part 2
Leos glanced at the pile of equipment they removed from the patient in the medbay.

One of the ones, actually the eldest of the biological members of their group, had asked him to look for identification or something that could help them figure out just what was wrong with him.

The request had been something that made sense, the Colonials often did carry some medical information on them if it was something unusual about them. Mainly it was to keep them from dying due to allergies linked to the more common meds.

The pistols were identifiable, but quite unusual. The appearance was close enough to understand the function, but a lot of it is at the same time.

A moment curiosity as he picked one of them up and spun it casually before sighting it at one of the larger chunks of scrapped armor plating.

He took a breath and let it out, his thoughts wondering just how it would work. His own training hadn't included weaponry, so he prepared for the recoil he'd seen the others use during their escape.

His finger slowly started to pull the trigger to about the halfway point before a twitch and full pull.

The result wasn't what he expected as the blaster roared and the flash of crimson light across the shadowed chamber, followed an instant later by the crash of the blaster dropped to the deckplates.

"Frack," Leos stammered as he barely managed to guide himself into a chair rather than the floor when his knees gave.

He blinked as his eyes locked on the darkened scorch mark on the armor plating, and the deep pit in the metal.

Slowly, he glanced at the almost taunting weapon laying on the floor.

"An energy weapon," he stated slowly, "A fracking energy weapon in a sidearm."

He leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling above.

"I need a drink."

xXx

Revan tried to figure out where he'd seen the familiar one before.

"You know kid," the man chuckled, "You're one of the few to walk the path, and the only one who managed to survive to see past it."

"Okay," Revan muttered to himself before responding, "First off, who the hell are you two, and secondly what path?"

The previous speaker seemed stunned at the result while the other started laughing hysterically.

"You know, Ulic," the other managed to state between chuckled, "You did seem to miss the blatant thing here."

"Oh do shut up Anakin," the one Revan's mind then identified as another former Sith Lord, Ulic Qel'Droma, "I figured those trained by the Jedi during his time would remember me."

 

[SotF]

"Could he be from Earth?" the eight asked after a moments thought.

Doc nodded his head slowly, more as if to delay a real answer for a bit of contemplation.

"If the legends are true," he started as a way to open with the conditional part of the statement to come, "Then Earth is the only place he could have come from."

A pause as he leaned back, "Of course, there is the entire possibility that he came from somewhere else entirely even if they are true."

"What do you mean?"

"My favorite of the legends speak of the humans settling Kobol from somewhere else before they were scattered like chaff."

"Oh?"

"Yep," he chuckled while walking to one of the consoles and bringing up the files, "When I had time to spend on things of my own choosing, the histories seemed to have a relaxing effect if nothing else."

"Well they certainly did put me to sleep," she responded to the medic.

"Well, yes, they do have that effect on a lot of us," he paused as both cylons had a brief chuckle, "Would reduce the expenditures on some of our drugs if I could order time spent going through the archives."

"We don't have anyone to spare as it is Doc," she stated, a hint of sadness in both intonation and inflection, "I wish we had enough to try that."

A small chime startled both of them and the doctor grinned.

"But as to mister mystery," the five laughed, "We might just be getting an answer in a few minutes."

Her eyes widened.

"It seems he's returning to consciousness."

She nodded as he gave a bow of the head to the shoulders to retreat to the airlock to enter the chamber containing Revan.

 

[SotF]

"The protector of the stars," the voice stated in an almost whimsical tone that echoed through the chamber as if spoken by a ghost, "Has come from the fall of their forge."

The three in attendance of the hybrid spun to give her full attention to the being primarily submerged in the viscous, white fluid.

"The guardians heart and the mantle given by force," the odd comments with a suprisingly lucid wording compared to the usual babble of the ship-mind, "Hero, Villian, Conquorer, Savior, he is the one who will be the hope for the future."

A deep gasp for air.

"The executioner and the builder," the tone continued, "Both keys who call to their master, a path forged in peace and then violence when the last devil that threatens unleashes the plan on the unsuspecting."

"The son of the republic shall forge one anew to be tested against the tide of mad tyrants and the only hope will be in those who accept their own title as kin slayers."

And then it ended, eerie silence within the hybrids chamber.

 

[SotF]

"We came to warn you Revan," Anakin stated slowly, "This place is young, different."

"How so?" he asked.

"You'll have to figure that out for yourself," Ulic added quickly, "Just remember that those who found you need your help if you are to survive and they are to thrive."

"So make friends with the people who found the fighter," Revan confirmed, "Anything else?"

"If you suceed at your destiny," Anakin added, "There is a chance for some of your friends to come, otherwise this place will keep you."

"Oh," Ulic said after a moments silence, "And you have to wake up now."

 

[SotF]

Eight watched from the observation room as the man seemed to slowly become aware in the dim lights of the craft.

His eyes weren't moving but each muscle seemed to twitch as if each was being tested for use. And then it happened.

She clutched her head and gasped for air as a presence seemed to flash into her mind.

Her eyes shot open as wide as they would for an instant before she fell backwards to the floor with a thud.

And then it was over as quickly as it had started.

Eight took a moment to pull a check of her body and mind, only finding a single unusual piece tied into her memory, she checked it on reflex and found something unexpected, languages.

And then she heard a deep gasp for air and her eyes snapped back open to see Doc turn from watching her collapse to the man on the medical bed.

 

[SotF]

Revan sensed the world around him as he incorporated the language he'd taken into his mind. It wasn't a talent he had used lightly, but he needed to be able to communicate with these people.

He began to sit up as the seemingly doctor seemed to move up to him.

"Er," he managed to stammer as he took in the rest of the room, "Hi."

Doc grinned and shook his head.

"Yeah, hi," the five responded after a moment, "You know we weren't sure what was wrong with you."

"I needed to come back from the trance I'd put myself in," Revan answered, "I had no idea where I'd ended up, and no direct sign of civilization so I did my best to conserve fuel and air until I reached a place I could land."

"A trance?"

"Yes, my training allows for a near death state that can reduce consumption and improves healing."

Revan was going back into a semi-familiar conversation he'd had with various healers across the galaxy. Half the time it was during the Mandalorian Wars when he'd been injured and trying to convince them to start with others and let him tend to his own wounds.

The odd look on Doc's face let him continue.

"It's one of the bits of knowledge all Jedi learn before they complete their training."

"Jedi?" Doc asked in a moments confusion at the unfamiliar word, "What's a Jedi?"

 

[SotF]

Leos rushed, slipping the clothing and the more innocuous looking gear from the table into a satchel.

He'd heard that the man was awake and wanted to be one of the first to talk to him, possibly even the first after the medics.

An energy weapon was something he wanted to know how to make. He wasn't a soldier, but he was the best trained of the technicians and mechanics that was a part of their fleet.

He paused as the lights flickered in the corridor and mentally noted where it flickered while adding it to his list of things to fix when he had time.

The work never seemed to end, leaving him in a never ending battle just to stay afloat in keeping the fleet working.

At least the demands were reducing now, letting him have a few moments of his own, though that just meant he had time to look through the equipment the stranger had with him.

A part of him dreaded the thought of what his schedule would end up being if they could get weapons like those the rescued man had, at least with larger versions of them anyway.

Leos also wondered about what Earth must be like, if that was in fact the mans origin point, with the needs of that heavy armor and weapons like that. The cylon shuddered at the thought of how worse their own wars would have ended up with that sort of technology in hand.

As it was, advances in combat based technology both in defensive and offensive roles, had always seemed to lead to reciprocal advances int he reverse by the other which only intensified the fighting.

Although, in this case, neither the Colonials nor their cylon cousins, had anything like this, it may prove enough to make either of the other nations to simply back down when revealed.

xXx

Standing up, Revan felt the slight weakness in his legs as he could finally stretch out.

The sudden end to the fight on the Star Forge combined poorly with the escape in the starfighter, an interceptor at that. The long trek through the system didn't help much either in that case.

Doc finally got around to introducing himself as they left medical and into the rest of the ship. Of course that only started when a message had been relayed that the council wanted to meet their visitor.

Eight followed behind the duo as they spoke, still slightly dazed by the momentary exchange that she was still trying to get a handle on.

 

[SotF]

One glanced at the door for a moment as he surveyed the room he had chosen for this meeting.

He'd never been one to place much faith in the possible overuse of the projection ability that the cylons had. It had occurred to him that while it had its uses, it also had some severe limitations.

Boredom and stagnation were the two results he could see in the end. Nothing new could come out of its use, only previous experiences of their own or another cylon of their kind could be used as the basis for it, though the 0005 Centurions had been a universal donor, as it were, of such sensations.

The secondary conference room was one he had managed to furnish with only a little help, but had been built for the purpose of being relaxing. Ironically, it and several other similarly decorated places had survived intact during their exodus, including the bar he'd managed to get by bribing the first few infiltrator incursions to bring a variety back for him.

One of the comfortable rooms that had come from a like minded member of their fleet who had perished during their exit from their cousins space was also selected for their guest.

He pondered, for an instant, what the man would like to drink when the meeting would begin.

 

[SotF]

Two rushed on his own towards the meeting, spotting Leos just ahead of him.

He had finished overseeing the landing the freighters that were on their last dregs of fuel, that would leave them with a use as housing for those on the ground.

His own report on that was due.

They only had a dozen operational freighters that could work at a diminished capacity left. Though, the freighters had managed to survive better than the Basestars had.

A mangled freighter had contained a lucky find that had been shuttled to the surface for use.

It was one of the receivers for one of the resurrection ships, and he was confident they could at least recover their losses for storage until they could get the rest of that tech. The receiver had a backup battery that kept it running constantly, though its memory banks were nearly full.

One of the Threes had already begun work on designing a facility for its use. A heavily fortified location that would house the device, a generator, and a large storage facility to contain the memories of their fallen comrades.

He'd been pleased to uncover a returned member of the first insertion amongst them, one who had apparently been a military architect, and that had made it a whole lot easier to plan construction for the surface of their haven, starting with their memory library.

At least they had the capacity to resurrect their Raiders, even if it would be a time-consuming process for each of them. They had four freighters worth of the shells that could be loaded with the memories gleaned from their resurrection transceiver.

Now, if only they had ones for themselves and the Centurions...

 

[SotF]

Leos entered the conference room and blinked.

Originally the room had been meant to be a chamber for Resurrections early on. That had changed when they realized that the parts would be impossible to place in any worthwhile form on a Basestar. So the project was scrapped until a solution could be found, though that data was still locked up on one of the worlds their cousins controlled.

However, the eldest of the Ones had taken the floor plan and reworked it to be comfortable from the carpet lining it, to the nearly complete ring of couches lining the lowered section of the floor.

Ringing the room were various displays and tables though the center remained open.

He took it as an outward sign of the rebellion of thoughts and ideas before the actual one had begun, a little piece of the same defiance that led to their exodus.

An Eight, one of his fellow techs, had also arrived at the meeting, accompanied by a Centurion that was visibly missing its weapons for the time being. A sign that her project was going well, a hope that they would never enslave one of their fellows again.

 

[SotF]

"A Jedi is many things," Revan answered the doctor as they walked, "The guardians of the Republic for countless generations."

"The Republic?"

"The galaxy is a big place," the man stated slowly, "And the Republic has representatives from millions of places."

He paused for a moment, "Though I confess that I cannot sense the presence of other members of the Jedi Order anywhere."

"Is Earth a part of this," Doc wondered out loud.

"It must be for a human to be in the Republic," Eight added.

"Earth?" Revan asked his companions with a blink and look of confusion, "Haven't heard of it before."