Beyond - Legends The Crimson Force (Cast of FOTJ, OCs)

Previous readers: Anakin Solo Revanchist, Force Smuggler, Gemma, Nyota's Heart, Lady_Misty, jcgoble3, earlybird-obi-wan, thank you for faithfully following my stories up to this point and for being patient while I graduated for this continuation.

Prologue

Head of State Vitor Reige of the Imperial Remnant stood at the grand window of his office in Bastion's capital, staring out at the gardens below him. Grand Admiral Pellaeon, one of Reige's most recent predecessors, had loved those gardens dearly. After Pellaeon, Jagged Fel had taken the reins of the Empire, and though Reige had liked Jag, the man had been cut of a different cloth than Pellaeon.

Now, it was Reige who commanded. He'd never wanted this position, not really. He'd been Pellaeon's shuttle pilot during the Yuuzhan Vong War, saving his life after the Battle of Bastion. He'd served as Pellaeon's aide for many years after that. Then, Pellaeon had been murdered by Tahiri Veila–Reige's jaw twitched at the memory. Reige had led Pellaeon's loyalists in a rebellion against the traitorous Moffs who'd aligned with Darth Caedus.

After that, Reige had served Jag Fel as an Admiral aboard the Star Destroyer Bloodfin, the very ship that Pellaeon had died on. Reige hadn't even wanted that role, honestly. Still. It was just his job. Then had come the election, and Jag had been forced to compete against Natasi Daala, who'd used dirty tactics to win favor in the elections. To prevent her gaining command of the Empire, Fel had dropped out of the race and put his support, and thus those of his followers, behind a surprise entry–Reige.

And now Jag Fel was free to run around the galaxy as a pilot or what-have-you, and Reige was stuck here in an office. He snorted out an amused chuckle. A bitter irony, he supposed. Some people were just bred for this sort of thing.

Reige did not know the whole of his parentage. His mother had died when he had been young, and had never revealed the name of his father. Still, Reige had always felt very close to Pellaeon, and there had been some who had said he looked like a young Pellaeon, and some even said he had a similar timbre in his voice. Reige wasn't sure about all that, but if Pellaeon had, in fact, been the man who'd fathered him, then it was Reige's duty to live up to the man's memory.

"Head of State," said an aide–a Chiss named Ashik, "your evening appointment is here."

Without turning, Reige nodded. "Thank you, Ashik. You may take the evening off."

Ashik bowed deeply. "Thank you, Head of State."

Reige turned, straightening the folds of his gray tunic. He sat down behind his desk and crossed his legs, assuming a casual pose. He had learned that his visitors were often intimidated by the neatness of his shoulder-length black hair, the piercing gaze of his ice blue eyes. To mitigate this, he always tried to be as informal and casual as possible, unless the person he was meeting with needed very much to be intimidated.

The man who entered was not one such person.

Slightly below average height, with dark blond hair now almost completely shot through with gray, the man had aged very gracefully. His features may have once been considered aristocratic, but even with wrinkles and laugh lines thrown in, he still looked very much the nobleman, though there was a kindness about him, especially in his blue eyes, that belied any intimidation that might've been caused by his regality.

"General Tycho Celchu," Reige said with a smile. "Welcome."

Celchu smiled back. "It is an honor to be here, Head of State Reige. Though I am unsure as to why you've summoned me; I'm not sure what a general in Starfighter Command can do for the Head of State."

Reige chuckled. "Not much, actually. I need a favor, but I can't go through official channels for this, since the Galactic Alliance is still in a rather...tenuous position, politically, due to the recent affair with Natasi Daala."

"And you think I can assist you in this...favor?"

"I'm almost certain of it," Reige replied. "Actually, to tell you the truth, I had a rather different man in mind, but he was unavailable, unfortunately. You see, I need to contact a certain man who was once in a very honorable position in my government, but who is no longer in such good graces with us. I could not be seen speaking to this man, of course, because it might make me appear...questionable in the eyes of the Moffs."

Understanding twinkled in Tycho's eyes, but his expression remained neutral. "Ah. Let me take a guess: the man you previously tried to contact may or may not have been related to the man you are trying to not speak with."

Reige inclined his head. "Of course I couldn't speak of his personal life. But I may have heard rumors of that sort."

"Ah." Tycho nodded shortly. "So, you want me to speak to this man, so that he may speak in your favor to this disgraced person who may or may not be related to him. Is that correct?"

"I cannot predict the actions this man would take, of course," Reige said with a nod. "If he were to speak with this estranged possibly-relative, well...I'd just have to deny any involvement, of course."

"Of course," Tycho agreed. "Is there anything specific you'd like for me to say to this man?"

Reige rose from his seated position, picked up a datapad from his desk, and crossed over to where Tycho stood. He handed the datapad to Tycho. The man nodded, stuffing the datapad in his pocket. He extended his hand, and Reige accepted it. The two shook firmly before releasing their grip. Reige clasped his hands behind his back.

"It has been a pleasure speaking with you, General Celchu," Reige said.

"And with you, Head of State Reige," Tycho replied. "With your leave?"

Reige nodded, and Tycho exited the room. The Empire's Head of State blew out a relieved breath. There. Now, that was done. It was up to Celchu to get the datapad to his friend, and his friend's to get it to the "estranged" man. Reige, constrained by political backstabbing and other such nonsense, could not deal with a problem that had him very much worried. But there was one who could.

Jagged Fel could do the Empire service once more.

 

Oh boy. Here we go!

 

Yay! I like Jag! Looking forward to the nonstop action I know is coming.

 

You had me wondering what was going on when I started reading the POV of the Imperial Head of State. I didn't expect that.

Looking forward to seeing where this goes!

 

yes a new story with intrigue beginning already

 

Best FF I've ever read. Its too bad there's no more EU because you might be able to get a job as a writer. It was like reading any official release.

 

Thanks for the tag, Revanfan1! Unfortunately, I'm going to be inactive for about the next ten weeks, and likely will have limited access at best to the boards. When I get home, I'll be able to catch up. For now, tag me in the next update so that I have a record in my notifications, then take me off the list after that so that I don't get 20 with the same message You've really piqued my interest in this latest adventure, though, I will be awaiting the chance to read this with bated breath! All the best, my friend

 

Force Smuggler, Nyota's Heart, jcgoble3, earlybird-obi-wan, Thuro, Anakin Solo Revanchist, thanks for the comments!

Chapter 1

"What're you lookin' at, half-pint?" growled the Aqualish.

Jagged Fel favored the alien with a look that suggested he was both stupid and much smaller than he believed himself to be–despite the fact that Jag was admittedly fairly short for a human, the Aqualish wasn't all that much taller than he. The Aqualish currently stood over a human male, nineteen or so; probably not even old enough to be drinking in a bar like this. The kid looked like he was about to throw up, and not from alcohol consumption.

"I think I'm looking at a two-bit thug who likes to pick on people not old enough to take care of themselves," Jag said softly. "I think I'm looking at an Aqualish who's about to step away from a human boy and not touch him again."

The Aqualish's orbed eyes flashed with anger and he looked down at the kid at his feet. He was clearly weighing his options–finish throttling the kid, or throttle Jag instead. Jag did his best to give him a look that suggested he'd be far better off just going back to his drink. The Aqualish, on the other hand, did not seem to be able to comprehend the complexities of human expression–or even the complexities of lifting his foot from the kid's chest. He was too drunk, or too stupid–or both–to even seem to realize that Jag was obviously a trained fighter.

"Fine," the Aqualish growled. "I take you instead."

He lurched forward, punching drunkenly at Jag. Honed by years of training, Jag pulled back away from the punch so that it missed him by half a centimeter. He grabbed the Aqualish's forearm and shoved him back. The human kid scrambled out of the way and the Aqualish landed where he'd been a moment before. The alien growled and tried to get to his feet. Jag kicked him in the face.

"I think," he said, "I'm looking at a crumpled heap of drunken, disconnected brain cells."

Several patrons around applauded, and two rose from their seats to shove the Aqualish out of the cantina. Jag's mouth lifted in an almost-smile, and he sat down at the bar and ordered a Corellian brandy. He was here, in the lower levels of Coruscant, because he'd been sent a message anonymously through an old comlink code. Only a few people knew that number, every one of them friendly. At least, they had been at the time he'd had that code. He admitted to being very curious about the thing. He'd told Jaina where he was going and that he'd return to Shedu Maad in a few days.

"Nice job taking down that alien," a familiar voice said.

Jag half-turned to see the man standing behind him, and he grinned. Slightly taller than Jag, and less broad at the shoulders, he had kind features lined with age, and brown hair tending far more toward gray these days. His dark eyes had a compassion in them that Jag had seldom seen outside the Jedi Order. The man wore a pair of black trousers, boots, and belt, with a green tunic. He was apparently unarmed, though Jag wasn't fooled by appearances.

"Uncle Wedge," Jag said. "I hoped it'd be you."

He stood and embraced his uncle in a backslapping hug. Wedge returned Jag's grin and patted his back. The two of them stepped back and sized each other up. Jag hadn't seen Wedge since his wedding. Jag knew his own appearance had changed–his hair was still neatly cropped, but he'd allowed his beard to grow out since the time he'd retired from the office of Head of State.

"Why'd you call me here?" Jag asked.

"Straight to the point, as always," Wedge said, chuckling. "Family things first. How's the wife?"

"Very good," Jag said. "Jedi Master business keeps her busy, of course."

"Of course." Wedge paused. "Any ideas as far as kids are concerned?"

Jag smiled. "Sooner than later, I hope."

"Good. Good." Wedge sat down at the bar. "I'll have a Gizer ale. Now. Now, we can talk business."

Jag nodded. "Great. Your message was very mysterious. No indication of what you wanted to meet about; only the location and time."

"It's very confidential," Wedge replied. "Let me explain. Head of State Reige called a friend of mine, Tycho Celchu–you've met him–and asked that he contact me, so I could give a message to you. Reige seems to be worried that if he contacts you directly, the Moffs may think something's amiss."

"What did Reige want?"

"He wanted you to read this datapad," Wedge said, handing him the item in question.

Jag looked down at it. It was encrypted with a four-digit passcode. Jag frowned, thinking of a number that he and Reige would both see as significant enough to remember as a passcode. Finally, he entered a number–the office suite Jag had inhabited on Coruscant when he'd come to visit during his time as Head of State. The datapad accepted the code. The message was text only.

Jagged Fel,​

​

It has been an unfortunate time for me to accept command. You have left me with quite a few errors to correct,​

though through no fault of yours. I need your help. In the time since you're retirement,​

Natasi Daala and Drikl Lecersen have continued to harass the Remnant in hopes of gaining control​

from me.​

​

Officially, I cannot act out. Daala was my rival in an election and if I strike at her now, it would appear​

petty at best. So I need your assistance–covertly, mind you–in taking Daala and Lecersen​

out. I cannot supply any kind of resources to you, nor can I back you officially. I am only counting​

on your allegiance to the Empire to respond to this plea for help.​

​

If you choose to accept, and you are captured or killed, I will be forced to refuse any​

knowledge of your actions. I wish it were not so, but I cannot stand by and watch the Empire​

dissolve because of this. If anyone has a chance of defeating Daala and Lecersen,​

it's you. I can not even wish you luck, I am afraid. But know that I await knowledge of the​

results of your mission.​

​

Sincerely, Head of State​

Vitor Reige​

​

Jag continued to stare at the message for a long moment. He read it over. He read it over again. He exhaled slowly through his nose and handed the datapad to Wedge. The older man slowly took it, and read it several times. Silently, he shut the datapad off and set it on the bar between them, sipping at the Gizer ale the bartender had brought while Jag had been reading.

"What do you think?" Jag asked.

"I think he's sincere," Wedge replied.

"No doubt about that. I mean, what do you think I should do?"

Wedge rolled his eyes. "Come on, Jag. Even I can tell you're itching to go take out Daala and Lecersen. You have been since your wedding."

"Yeah, but the Jedi can't get involved...and I'll need help."

Wedge considered. "Daala's a war criminal against the Galactic Alliance, and so is Lercersen. Officially, Chief of State Dorvan can't act because he's too busy rebuilding from the Lost Tribe Insurrection. But...there is a man who can help you. An old friend of mine."

"Who?"

Wedge grinned. "Come with me."

* * *

The door read "Head of Galactic Alliance Security," but Wedge had told Jag that this guy was also Director of Galactic Alliance Intelligence, too, though of course that was all very hush-hush, being spy business and whatnot. They'd been standing outside the door for several minutes now; Jag didn't move a micrometer. He was used to waiting. Finally, the office door slid open, and Wedge led Jag inside.

The man behind the desk inside was dressed in a dark blue uniform with gold lining around the cuffs. His physical appearance was totally at odds with his uniform, though. He looked like a thug–a very mean thug. He was bald–shaven, Jag suspected–with a goatee that made his appearance rakish. He had a long scar from the middle of his forehead to below his left eye, and Jag thought it might've been surgically added. He had a fiery mischief in his green eyes, and a devilish grin.

"Jagged Fel," Wedge said, "I'd like you to meet General Garik 'Face' Loran."

Loran stood, still grinning, and shook hands with Jag. He had a strong grip; Jag pumped his hand twice and the man released him.

"Please, be seated," Loran said.

Jag took a seat, as did Wedge.

"It's good to see old friends," Face said. "I recall seeing you on Borleias during the Yuuzhan Vong War, Jagged, but I didn't ever get the chance to speak with you. On the other hand, as the nephew of Wedge Antilles, I have no doubt I am going to like you very much."

Jag smiled. "I remember hearing a few stories about the famous Face Loran. It's an honor to finally meet you, General."

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" Face replied with a nod. "Wedge tells me you're looking to take out certain elements that made a mess of the GA during their time in power. Given that said elements disbanded Wraith Squadron–my first command–I am very eager to see these elements gone from the galaxy."

"Very good. I'm of a similar mind regarding their existence."

"Good, good. Now, remember what I said about Wraith Squadron? Well, they've been reformed, and they've been doing a blasted good job at taking out those involved in the conspiracy, specifically Generals Thaal and Maddeus. I'm sure they'd be very eager to take down Lecersen himself, and Daala...well, she's just a bonus."

"Wraith Squadron, hmm?" Jag scratched his chin. He grinned. "I remember meeting several of them on Borleias. If there are even a few of the same members...well, I suspect Lecersen and Daala won't survive the year, eh?"

Face nodded. "I'll have the Wraiths meet you at a currently-undisclosed location, two evenings from now. If you have an other beings you'd like to join this mission, I'd suggest you have them come to Coruscant immediately. The Wraiths aren't exactly team players with non-Wraiths, but I'm sure they'll accept assistance if you insist."

Jag stood. "Thank you, General. It'll be a pleasure working with you."

Face shook Jag's hand again. "And you, my friend."

 

Great planning and with the Wraits again.
I don't like Daala and Lecersen either

 

Yeah buddy! Here we go!

 

Jag with the Aqualish -- nice! Ooh, Reige's message, very serious and important business. Cool to have the Wraiths participating.

 

Looks like no one is getting any breaks for long.

 

Maybe they can find a way to conceive by the end of this story?

And the Wraiths are back!

 

Force Smuggler, Nyota's Heart, jcgoble3, earlybird-obi-wan, Thuro

Chapter 2

On Coruscant's moon, Centax II, was a military base that had been used for clone troopers during the Clone Wars. The same base had later been used as the Jedi Order's starfighter base during the Second Galactic Civil War, before the Alliance and Jedi had split. It was at this base that Jag now waited. He'd summoned Jaina and Tahiri to Coruscant with him; he figured he'd need their help in this venture.

They sat in an old mess hall, which Jag had set about cleaning up. The base had been abandoned after the Jedi had evacuated, so a thick layer of dust had settled over...everything. But with two hours of TLC, the room was once again spit-and-polish clean, the dead light fixtures had been replaced, and one could eat off the floor if they desired.

"So, the Wraiths, huh?" Jaina said with a grin. "I remember them from the Vong War. Remember those two who helped me with my Goddess impersonation thing? What were their names...Piggy, and uh..."

"Sharr," a voice said. "I'm hurt that you forgot."

Jaina turned and crossed her arms, her grin widening. "Oh, yeah. Sharr Latt."

Sharr, a look of mock hurt on his face, crossed the room. "Jaina Solo. Or, Solo-Fel, I should say. They grow up so fast."

Jaina punched Sharr on the arm. "Good to see you, Sharr."

"What about me?" grunted a deep, mechanical voice.

A tall Gamorrean, slightly lean for his species, stood behind them, his arms planted on his hips, a grumpy expression on his face. Jaina laughed and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek. The Gamorrean blushed.

"Good to see you too, Piggy," Jaina said with a smile.

Jag approached and extended his hand. "Commander Voort saBinring, I take it? And Colonel Sharr Latt."

"No ranks," Piggy replied, shaking Jag's hand.

Sharr took Jag's hand when Piggy was done. "We're Intelligence, not Starfighter Command."

"Right." Jag glanced around. "Where's the rest of the squadron?"

"They're coming right...now," Sharr said.

As if on cue, the mess hall's door slid open and nine beings entered. First was a green-skinned, blue-eyed alien that Jag recognized as a Clawdite–the manifesto that General Loran had given Jag named this man Turman Durra. Then were two human females–Myri Antilles and Jesmin Tainer–and three human males–Trey Courser, Wran Narcassan, and Thaymes Fodrick. Following them were a Devaronian, Drikall Bessarah, and a Wookiee, Huhunna. Rounding out the group was Viull "Scut" Gorsat, a Yuuzhan Vong. Jag instinctively tensed at the sight of him, but forced himself to loosen up.

"Pleasure to meet you all," Jag said.

Myri nodded. "You too. I'll be more than happy to see Daala taken down."

"We all will," Jesmin said darkly.

"Well, then," Piggy said. "Shall we get down to business?"

"Let's," Jag said with a nod.

 

Let the fun begin.

 

Great introductions.

And Force Smuggler said it best:

 

Should probably be Let the fun begin again though.

 

Looking forward to the plans. The Wraiths are lively and resourceful.

 

plans and now fun. I hope they take Daala and her cronies down

 

Force Smuggler, Nyota's Heart, jcgoble3, earlybird-obi-wan, Thuro

Chapter 3

Armed with cups of caf and stacks of flimsiplast, the fourteen beings gathered around a table. Jag's instinct was to start giving orders, or at least telling them what he wanted to do. But they, Wraith Squadron, were the experts when it came to ousting warlords. So he popped his knuckles, crossed his legs, and leaned back in his chair, gesturing for Piggy to speak.

"Thank you, Jag," Piggy said. "Now, in the past, when the Wraiths have targeted a warlord, we've started by trying to figure out what they are attempting to gain with their specific missions."

"With Daala," Sharr continued, "that's not a problem. We know what she wants. Lecersen too, really. They want to reestablish the Empire as it was in its glory days, no matter the bloodshed involved, even to the Imperial Remnant. Daala, however, does consider herself a hero of the people and so she's not likely to commit terrorist acts that could harm innocents in the Empire."

Jag scratched his chin. "It occurs to me we're missing something here."

"What's that?" Piggy asked.

"Lecersen's conspiracy started out because he hated Daala's leadership," Jag said. "He only joined her later under duress."

"Specifically," Tahiri added, "the duress of a certain Lieutenant Pagorski. Who, as Boba Fett and I later discovered, was actually Abeloth."

"Exactly," Jag said with a nod. "Thank you, Tahiri. Lecersen was under the duress of a dark side Force entity. Therefore it's quite possible–likely, even–that we're not going to be facing a united Daala/Lecersen front. We're going to be facing Daala's forces and Lecersen's forces, and we have to take into account the possibility that they might even be opposing each other."

Myri frowned. "Hmm. That's possible. However...if you think about it, Lecersen may realize that he's pretty much in a hopeless position if he leaves Daala's side. She's got the fleet, remember, however small that might be. Lecersen's got nothing, not since we took down Thaal."

"Not true," Jesmin replied. "The fact is, Lecersen was a Moff. He has his own forces. I think Jag's right; we'll be facing two separate fleets here."

"Okay," Piggy said. "Then we'll need to figure out–"

They were interrupted as the door slid open, admitting a new being. Tall, muscled, with brown hair cut close in military style, he wore an unadorned blue uniform with a blaster holstered at his side.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "Javon Thewles reporting for duty. I'm the new Wraith Twelve."

Everyone looked up. Trey and Myri exchanged glances and looked like they were trying to keep from laughing. The corner of Sharr's mouth twitched. Piggy rose, walked around the table, and came right up to Thewles. He started down at him. Apparently shocked to be standing face-to-face with a Gamorrean, who were usually not intelligent enough to be in the Army, let alone Intelligence, he took a step back.

"Well, then," Piggy said. "Welcome to the team."

Thewles' face turned from confusion to shock to outright horror and he leapt several feet back, reaching for his blaster. The Wraiths exploded into laughter, and even Jag allowed himself a smile. He imagined it wasn't every day that one saw a Gamorrean that spoke Basic.

"I'm Voort saBinring," Piggy said. "But all my friends call me Piggy. You, however, can call me Wraith One."

Thewles nodded slowly. "All right. Wraith One it is."

"If you guys are done taunting the new guy," Thaymes said, holding up his datapad, "I think I've got a possibility for Daala's next target based on where we've seen her strike so far."

Piggy, Sharr, and Jag traded glances.

"All right," said Jag. "What will we need to stop her?"

"Well," Thaymes said, "we can start with a whole mess of prosthetic foreheads..."

 

Oh god. prosthetic foreheads? Good lord.

 

Mission Impossible? Disguises? That will be fun

 

This captures all the fun of the old X-Wing novels I think. I like how you added Javon Thewles to the roster. He was such a fun character. But he seems a little bit rigid to me. He's kind of a wise-ass.

"Lieutenant Javon Thewles?"
"You know who I am. Can I sit up?"
"You're under arrest."
"Can I sit up anyway?"
"Don't you want to know why?"
"You're just the kind of clown who feels rewarded seeing people's expressions when you choose to tell them why. We have them like you in GA Security, too. Can I sit up?"
"The charge is conspiracy to commit murder."
"The sentence for which is not being able to sit up?"

 

LOL I agree. That does seem ... different. Like the strategizing and deciding on there being two instead of one opposing force.

 

Oh, don't worry. His smarmy side will turn up rather quickly.