Before - Legends A New Dawn Fades (An Original Species Story) {Updated: Chapter Two 16 Sept 09}

Title: A New Dawn Fades

Author: GenOochy

Timeframe: 44 BBY

Genre: Original, Political, Action

Rating: PG-13 (For sci-fi violence, mild language and thematic elements)

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all related characters, technology and locations belong to Lucas Films, Ltd. All work in not-for-profit and no copyright infringement is intended. Lyrical references will marked accordingly throughout the story.

Plot Summery: A wildly, libertine society engages its parental monarchy's power base in a quick, bloody conflict that transfers the control of their once free society into the hands of a few.

Author?s Notes: This is just an exercise for my muse, exploring a few different writing techniques and flesh out more of my species history.

I will be proposing a few theoretical political situations, however none of this is intended to reflect on any current political entities or make commentary on them. It's not intended to carry a real world political message to endorse or condemn any ideological group. Sorry, I'm not George Orwell.

The first post is highly-technical, as per the exercise I was conducting in my head. Later post will be less technical.

If you have any feedback at all, please respond. Critiques are welcome.

 

Prologue:

It was a tale of two cities. Or actually, two stations with the population of a small city. Two stations that beyond their utilitarian purposes, served as a political statement to the other.

Executive Flyer TC-TVC dropped out of hyperspace six-hundred and ninety kilometers out from Hyperspace Terminal Point One-four, usually known as the bottleneck. It was a relic of a bygone era, but still served as the main point of entry and exit from the Wolatarian systems. Traffic came in here and then jumped into the nebulous and dense star cluster. Though hyperspace advancement made this unnecessary, it was still the safest route into the cluster. Some shipping companies insurance even demanded they use the entry point, so the flow of traffic was immense.

The Roland Aerospace Executive Flyer VI was a sleek corporate shuttle designed for high-speed atmospheric travel, and fighter-like maneuvering. On board TC-TVC was President Sage Parvil of Or?rac SecureTransport Corporation and members of the board of directors. They were returning from a negotiation on Munnilist, and were now inbound for Brocan, in Wolatarian Space. The Wolatarian systems were split into two main sectors, the Brocan Royal House and the Freeworlds, each competing with the other.

The Brocan Royal House was the old Wolatarian Imperium, ruled as a Constitutional monarchy. It wasn?t an iron-rule state, as excessive bureaucracy prevented simples acts of oppression, yet also made it difficult for anything to progress quickly. Still, the wealth of the Brocan was incredible, and immense public works made impressive cities. Great emphasis was put on the patriarchal society and orderly conduct. Almost all cities had curfews, strict zoning laws, public dress codes and a rigorous educational system.

The Freeworlds were a newer lot of the Wolatarian system, and at most were minarchist, and for all practical purposes in an anarchist state. No formal authority, outside of a system of community arbitration courts, exist. They seem to contrast the Brocan house?s cry for perfection in society, and took nearly two dozen years to settle down from the early days after the revolution. They, however, had formed a society that was ever bit as orderly as the Brocan, though this order was maintained by each individual and a loose network of security services hired often by larger businesses to prevent looting of property. The Freeworlder society was geared much more towards the individuals, and the members of the society took great lengths to express themselves through art, dress and the design of their dwelling. Though some areas were designed by a community developers, most areas were a patchwork of homes, and in upper middle class areas, had homes of unique builds. A huge market for architects and construction had been created, and many artisans were moving out of the Brocan house to attend Freeworlder schools. In response, the Brocan house had made it illegal to move one?s residence to the Freeworlds without going through the citizenship?s office. This did little as Brocan?s still could ?escape? into Freeworld space, and once there, disappear into the society.

Freeworld life could be tough, however, and the population held a very ?armed society is a polite society? view. As your life was your own, with it, came the means of protection and that responsibility. There were occasional gun fights that broke out in dark alleys, or shopping centres, though these were becoming more rare. A great amount of wealth had been created, though still lower-class areas existed and within them, gangs and groups of pirates formed. Attempts to move security forces into these areas had resulted in bloody micro-wars, and the private defense agencies had all but refused to send personal back into the areas.

Though the two societies conflicted, neither would consider open war, and for the most part, simply remained hostile to the other. And that brings us back to the stations.

The old hyperspace station was a simple base, only around five-hundred meters long. After the sp

 

Chapter One

Four Days after the Waypoint Incident
Planet Brocan, Bra?an City

Brocan was the Wolatarian?s Alderan. Gleaming cities, designed from the ground up, all designed in elaborate patterns and matching colour schemes. Despite is more arid climate, the planet was one of the most aesthetically pleasing in the galaxy.

The capital was located in Bra?an, on an island continent in the planet?s second largest ocean. Bra?an City was established just six hundred years ago and centered around five stark white, diamond shaped towers that was the government complex. Herein, the sixteen Houses of the Commons convened in the four senate towers; and the monarchy was housed in the centre tower, which was exactly a hundred meters higher than the other four towers.

Directly under the monarch, were the four archdukes (or archduchesses), each leading one of the senates and the four houses contained therein. Each house was led by a count or countess, and the representatives of each house were elected by general election. The Twenty-Seven Articles of Constitutionalism guaranteed broad rights to all citizens, however it still granted preference to those of royal heritage.

It was ten minutes past local sunset in Bra?an City, as a small blue speeder slowly entered the Awen-Roth Shopping Labyrinth; a high-class outdoor centre five klicks from the government complex. Though there was an obvious Wolatarian majority here, foreigners, mostly embassy workers, were about. A few humans and many assorted aliens, most notably, three Muun dining outside with two Wolatarians at Llotaran Exotic, a xeno-bistro in the park square.

The speeder took a fee-spot to park, and the driver crawled out dressed in a deep blue sport coat and took out a data pad case and headed for the bistro.

The driver was a Wolatarian, but stuck out from the rest of the population, as the sides of his head were shaved in a decorative pattern, and the exoskeleton underneath was tattooed. Contrasting the martial-styled jacket was a crimson waistcoat, defiantly marking him as an outsider. ?A Freeworlder?, onlookers thought with spite, and his presence was noted by a local security official, who approached him.

?Card, sir?? The officer asked bluntly. The driver spun his torso, drawing a booklet from his coat pocket and flashing it opened at the officer.

?I?m with the consulate.? the Freeworlder said dryly, his four eyes peering from behind green-tinted, solar shades. The officer took the papers and studied them intently, looking for evidence of forgery. Dissatisfied, but unable to find anything amiss, he handed the flimplast booklet back to the Freeworlder, who subsequently snatched to back shoved it back into his pocket as he turned and headed for the bistro.

He took a seat on the patio, just across from the table seating the Muuns with their Wolatarian contacts. Setting the data pad case in the chair beside him, he made a glance across the menu, taking a peek across at the other party, making a visual identification. ?An?Tran, jackpot.? He averted his eyes back down at the menu as the waitress approached, setting a glass of water with a citrus wedge down on the table for him.

?Welcome and good evening, sir. Welcome to Llotaran, what can I get you started with?? She said, giving him an unsure, forced smile.

?Yes, could I get a Corellian-Caf to start. I?m probably going to have something light..?

?Yes, sir. May I see you identity card?? She inquired, and the Freeworlder nodded, and handed her the consulate booklet. She took it and frowned. ?I?m sorry, I have to have to have your identity card.? She said and handed the booklet back to him.

The Freeworlder scowled as he took the booklet back. ?That?s ridiculous. That has date of birth and everything. My card is in the speeder.?

?I?m sorry, it?s required by law.? She said and paused, adding hesitantly. ?By law, it?s suppose to be on your person at all times as well.?

The Freeworlder huffed, but relented. ?Alright, give me a moment to fetch it.? He crawled off the

 

Author's Notes: Second Chapter.. More getting into the personal stories.

Review's please?

---

[b][u]Chapter 2[/u][/b]

[blockquote][b][i]Seven Days after the Waypoint Incident
Saana, Planet Or?rac, Freeworlder Space[/i][/b]

Oddly enough, the incident at the Waypoint Stations, including the loss of the cruiser, went mostly un-noted, summed up as a tragic case of mistaken identification and self-defense; both sides issued apologies and stand-downs to try and ?discover what went wrong?, and ?how future incidents could be avoided?. The bistro bombing, however, had spurred a great outcry for blood, namely when five members of the parliament, were listed among the dead. The consulate seizure came after a call from an officer who was moments later was killed in the explosion, reported that a Freeworlder with the consulate had been acting suspicious and just left the square.

It took no time for the Bro?can to connect the consulate with the security contractor?s at X-Zar Protection and plan their next strike. The next move in this Sabbac game was the opening shots to the War.

There was no coordinated defense of the planet of Or?rac. X-Zar and Lamar both had corporate offices on the planet, and a few field offices at various space ports. The traffic control of the planet was mostly in the hands of an aerospace companies that managed the largest ports on the surface and one station in orbit, a thousand kilometers above the northern pole. No air defense and no security authentication made it easy for six groups of bombers to get into the atmosphere and en route to their targets. It would be the aerospace traffic control at Saana Intergalactic that would first notice something horribly amiss.

--
[i][b]
0746 local time, Day Zero of the War
Saana Intergalactic Port, Aerospace Control Node[/b][/i]

The chief of the watch set is steaming cup of stemcaf down on the table, as he made his rounds, and looked over the shoulder of a tired controller, who was obviously zoned out. He jumped a little when he noticed someone standing beside him.

?How?s it going?? The lead controller asked.

?Thirty-five more minutes. I think I saw max of a dozen vessels in the last eight hours. Quiet night, chief.?

?Yeah, mid-week. Usually just business travel-- Eh, what are those four up there??

The watch jumped to alertness and checked the display.

?Err-- They were..n?t there a minute ago. Up by Athor.. Registering mach.. Three?? The watch blinked a few times to see if he was reading the screen right. The screen was a display of a six hundred kilometer area around Saana, fed directly from a satellite in synchronous orbit. The chief frowned and picked up the comm, keying for Athor Control Node.

?Ah, yes. This is Chief Tyson with Saana Control. We?ve got four contacts just transiting your airspace, angels two.. We?re showing speed of plus-three. Can you confirm??

[i]?Yeah, Chief. We?re really not sure. We just picked them up about two minutes ago and-- speed is confirmed at plus-three-point-two. No ID, but they?re outside controlled space. We?re limited to radar here, no signature ID. I just kinda assumed they?re security forces doing some training.. Do you have a better idea than us??[/i]

?Hold for a moment, we?ll try to get a signature.? The chief said, turning to the satellite operator behind him, who had just returned from getting a cup of caf. ?Hey, four contacts about four hundred klicks north-east, can I get an IR and electronic signature scan.?

?Eh, one sec.. You?ll loose your monitors for a couple though, but I can.? The operator said, and keyed the computer. The scanning display went out as the satellite switched functions to scan the four contacts in detail. For two minutes the control station only had the surface radars, with a range of a couple hundred klicks.

?Scanning? Fifty seconds remaining and.. Whoa! No, not good.? The satellite operator bang the keyboard. ?Uh, just lost all connections with the satellite. I can?t even ping her computers for a reboot.?

?Say what--? The chief began, only to be cut off by the local radar