Bothan Assault Cruiser Excalibur, deepspace

The Excalibur’s bridge doors creaked open, admitting Bandor and a pair of his personal body guards. All of them were clad in the once regal uniforms of Clan Kre’fey. A decade ago, their tunics would have been suave and spotless. But years of their owners in service fighting the Empire had changed all that. There were darker spots where blood of friend and foe had been splattered on during vicious boarding actions. There were grease stains from repairing weapons and other equipment. Simple wear and tear had made the tunics bare. And yet, the Bothans still wore them, as symbols of themselves, of their past connections. Kre’fey’s fur rippled.

“Status report?”

“Ah…not sure sir. Could you take a look at my screen?”

The Bothan stormed over to the console. Frowning, Bandor wiped a splotch of crayberry jam from it, glaring at the young ensign. His feline eyes squinting down on the recruit and the hair rippling across his back summoned the two bodyguards. Kre’fey barred his teeth.

“Ensign, have you been eating here?”

“Well…umm…yes sir. I did get the jam on the console sir, I guess I just didn’t realize what it was. I had thought maybe something was wrong with the screen…you know, with the repairs and all.”

Kre’fey rocked back on his heels. Yes, this ship is getting old, and it has all sorts of quirks in its system. That could have been a plausible excuse. But the fact that this man didn’t even bother to touch the screen reveals ignorance or laziness. Neither of which should be part of any serviceman. Hell, how did he ever get through the Academy? The alien’s fur rippled back down. Because there was no academy. Where did he get training? From Spars. And Spars? From Tol’lesk. Tol’lesk went to the Bothan Academy. With each passing officer, less and less information and training gets to the officer. And frak, eventually this will be a ship of incompentents. We need to get back to an official and rigorous training program. But from where?

“Ah, sir,” growled one of his Jeswandi bodyguards.

Kre’fey. “Ensign, your shift is over, you are dismissed. See to it that this doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes sir,” snapped the young recruit, hastily retreating through the bridge foyer.

“Kids,” commented one of the guards.

“We can’t really blame them,” sighed Kre’fey, settling into his patched chair, “we don’t give them as much training as they use to; at least from the Bothan Martial Academy. Hell, I remember hearing a story about the Imperial Remnant back during the days when the Republic was at its peak. They had the sons of ranchers and every type of backwater job operating their star destroyers. Pellaneon got pissed and ordered everyone to improve, or be prepared to die.”

“Did he do it?”

“Yes,” acknowledged the alien, “he did. The quality got better. You know we can’t do the same.”

“Which leaves us in a quandary.”

“No,” replied the admiral, “it means we have to turn to the old ways.”

“But the Imperials now occupy our homeworld, we can’t use the Bothan Martial Academy.”

Kre’fey nodded. “So we find a new one. Let’s make that our mission. See if you can find anything out about neutral academies or instructors or equipment for that training. Anything you can get your hands on. Sei’lar, see if you can get us anything through your Bothan Spy Network contacts.”

“I’m on it sir.”

Captain’s Quarters, Bothan-class Assault Cruiser Excalibur

“So gentlemen?” questioned the gold and brown splotched Bothan, “what news do you bring?”

“Sir,” announced Sei’lar, “my contacts have found several possibilities for adopting an existing academy: the Vensenor Flight Academy. It was once a prestigious starship training facility, from the Clone Wars until the capture of Coruscant by the New Republic. It primarily trained elite fighter pilots, but it had branches which taught the basics of capital ship operations, such as gunnery and navigation.”

Kre’fey nodded, “Areas which cross-trained between the fleet and the fighter corps. Let me guess, they also had astronavigation and basic mechanics?”

“Apparently,” supported Sei’lar, “at least according to my contact there.”

Kre’fey leaned forward. “And this is on a currently neutral planet?”

The Jeswandi bodyguard nodded. “Arkanis.”

“Tell me then: why has no-one else bothered with this school. I mean, it is prestigious and diversified.”

“Location.”

“Explain,” ordered Bandor, crossing his arms.

“Could you pull out your political galaxy map?”

“Certainly.”

The Admiral tapped a button his desk. A still holo of the galaxy manifested itself between the two aliens, coloured in a myriad of shades to represent the governments of the fractured galaxy. Kre’fey cringed. And to think that at one point in time, the vast majority of the galaxy was under our flag. How could we have fell so far? He shook the thought away. Sei’lar slapped his hand in a broad region of the galaxy which had none of the overshading that most of the map was covered in.

“Arkansis is in this general area. As you can see, it’s far from any of the major trade routes, and its deep within the Outer Rim. The Imperials have had no use for it because of its location and the fact that they already possess Carida and other large-scale academies. It’s too many parsecs away from their nearest planet to be of any value. Same with all of the other galactic super powers. This area is all but gone unnoticed by the galactic community.”

Bandor nodded. “Which is valuable because of its remoteness and the lack of prying eyes. We should be able to conduct much our training without even attracting the notice of the local populace.”

“Most of it. We could, in fact, do all of it if we just used the academy’s simulators, and no-one would be the wiser. We could probably even get away with actual flight training for the pilots, but bringing in a capital ship…”

“Would not be a good idea,” finished Kre’fey, “it would be an unusual stir and attract too much attention, not only from the populace, but also any galactic superpower agents hanging around.”

“Exactly,” agreed the other Bothan, “it would be best if the populace didn’t realize that the Academy was reverting back to its original mission.”

Kre’fey frowned, “It has a mission now?”

“Yes sir. The Academy has been leased out by the government to train corporate security forces. It’s been doing that for over a decade now, with various companies.”

Kre’fey nodded. “That might be more to our benefit than not. This leaves me to one last question, why is Academy going to join the Alliance? Or should I say Arkanis?”

Sei’lar smiled, “That was most difficult information to come by at all. But I think between our collective meddling and negotiations, they will want to join for their own sake.”

Arkansis

“Another client? Rodham, you know how I feel about this. We can’t increase class sizes more, the quality is already starting to become subpar.”

Rodham shook his head. “What is there to do? We either have to accept more students or raise the tuition. Between inflation and upkeep, it is going to be hard to keep the Academy functional.”

“They aren’t paying us enough,” complained the instructor, “corporations are such cheapskates. Remember the days when the Republic and the Empire trained here? Back when we not only had smaller class sizes, but twice the salary and no concern about simply paying our janitors?”

“I do,” remembered the administrator, “those were the glory days, my friend. But they are days long past, I think. The Republic is gone though. The Empire is distant. The only option we have for an academy this size is to go through corporations, and we both know that will want the most economical way to train their people. The price we’re offering right now is the only thing keeping us in business. Though I do suppose we could attempt downsizing.”

The instructor shivered involuntarily, “You’re right, we don’t have much in the terms of options. But this is nothing new. Why have you really come to talk to me?”

“I’ve been recently contacted by a new group, a possible client,” confided Rodham, “one that could take us back to the glory days if we’re lucky. They want to keep things as they are now for us in price, and if they end up having money to spare, they’re even willing to help modernize some of our more aging equipment.”

The instructor frowned. “That can’t be a corporation; you just said they’re credit-pinchers. You’ve found something political. You know that brings about a host of problems for us. If you’re in politics, you always have an enemy. There is always someone who wants more power at your expense or will silence you to keep their power.”

“This is true,” acknowledged the administrator, “but when they are more successful, so are you. If they succeed in the end, we will have funding like the old days for the most frivolous of things, like a school-wide dance or a new set of training fighters.”

“But it’s a risk.”

“It is, but is it one worth taking?” questioned Rodham.

“Who is it with?” questioned the man, “cause if it’s with one of the Hutt Cartels or the Black Sun, it’s not worth it. But Vinda-Corp, or the Caprician Commonwealth, heck yes. Hapes, even. That would be a real something.”

“All right, but you must promise to keep it a secret.”

“Fine. Who is it?”

“Some rebels planning on taking down the Empire.”

The man let out an exasperated sigh, “Don’t play with me. Who is it, really? Or was this just another lie?”

“No lie,” adamantly countered the other man, “there really is some rebel group which wants to train here. They haven’t been very straight forth about what exactly they want, but a representative will be arriving here within the week to talk about it.”

“I am the first you’ve told?”

“Yes, Schultz, you are. Do you know why?”

The gray-haired man slowly nodded. “Because I was one of them once. I was one of those chaps who jumped into the seat of an X-wing to fight the big bad Empire. I was part of the Rebel Alliance, part of the New Republic. And you were hoping to play upon my sympathy to test the idea out for the rest of the staff, right?”

“I was hoping for your support,” admitted Rodham, “you have an idea who people like them are like, since you were one of them.”

“No I don’t. I don’t Rodham. Did you ever serve in the Alliance or the Republic?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought. There is such a diversification of species and people within the folds of the organization that no-one can truly categorize a group of their trainees. I could have a group of Twi’leks, Corellians, Mon Calamari, Bothans, or some other random species that I’ve never even heard before, or more likely, a mix of all them. And heck, they could be calling themselves rebels, and maybe they are. Maybe these are the people that call themselves rebels to justify their acts of piracy or any other crime. I don’t know who these rebels are, and I won’t support you until I do know who they are.

“Fair enough Schultz, fair enough.”

Everything was starting to come together for the Alliance, recruitment was up, planets were joining the cause, and things were generally running smoothly.

Good news.

Of course, that meant more work for Marin Faulker. <i>Lots</i> more.

"Morgan, please get me the Yavin files ASAP. I need everything having to do with the dig site at the Yavin core and I need an up to the hour status update on the terraforming effort." Marin said as he hit the buttom on the comm unit. Some would call Morgan his Secretary, but Marin Faulker would be the first to correct those who might come to that assumption. Morgan controlled all communications incoming and outgoing from the Yavin system, and Marin Faulker could not do his job without her hard work and expertise.

"Yes, sir." She replied, curtly but not rudely. Marin had a distinct synergy with Morgan that had developed over their years of work together and that allowed them to be straight to the point with each other without perceiving the other to be rude or have a lack of manners.

Marin tapped another button on his console which connected to another officer. "Myles, where the fuck is McCorda? Tell him I need a fucking status report on that base. It's been weeks and I haven't heard shit."

"Yes, sir. Captain McCorda is out of comm range, but I will relay the message ASAP." The static-filled voice of the officer known as 'Myles' replied.

"Faulker, out." Marin said, cutting the transmission.

"Fuck man... I've never been this busy. It's ridiculous." Marin said, as he paused a moment to take a deep breath.

"Ya, but. In a good way right?" Matthias Woods said as he sat across the desk from Marin Faulker, legs crossed; relaxing.

"I don't know how the Hell you do it, Woods. Do you ever sleep?"

"No. Sleep is for the weak." Woods said, dryly but sarcastically.

"Here I am busting my fucking ass, and you're sitting across from me like you don't have a care in the world."

"Well, you <i>are</i> the boss. Or, lest you forget?"

"Morgan, remind me to fire Admiral Woods please." He said, tapping a button on the console.

"Yes, sir. On it sir." She replied, recognizing the lack of sincerity.

"So... do I walk out now... or?" Woods said, feigning standing up from his seat.

"We'll have someone escort you out, stay seated for now soldier." Marin said raising his hand as Woods sat back down.

"This is the problem, we're growing, and you're experiencing that first hand through increased work load. And until you decide to delegate that responsibility and promote a few more officers, you're gonna be pulling your hair out left and right. Just as you are now."

"Speaking of <i>growth</i>, I wonder what progress Kre'fey has made finding a suitable location for our Academy.

"Morgan, have we received word from Bandor Kre'fe-" Before the High Admiral could finish his sentence, Morgan was already replying.

"I transferred the file to your datapad two minutes ago."

Both men briefly exchanged surprised glances.

"And you're bitching about being so busy?" Woods asked. "You don't hear so much as a whimper out of Morgan, and she does more than any of us around here."

"That's for sure..." Faulker replied.

"What? Does she have like eight arms or something? She's a droid isn't she? She's a droid? Morgan's a fucking droid this whole time and you never told me? Is she a Jedi? No? Not a Jedi?" Woods said, exchanging the type of sarcastic banter that he and Marin did so many hours out of the day.

"Are you done?"

"No not yet, wait... yes. I'm done."

"Holy shit..." Marin Faulker said to himself as he viewed the contents of the file received from Bandor Kre'fey.

"What is it? Ninjas? Sith? Sith Ninjas? Simon Kaine's back? The Emperor died of a heart attack? Your favorite bed and breakfast on Valikor 5 no longer serves the gays? That's gonna be tough you and your boy toy are gonna have to find a new place to vacation..." Woods said in rapid-fire succession, finally stopping once he realized Marin Faulker wasn't even paying attention to his humor.

Admiral Woods paused for a moment, remaining silent while Marin Faulker poured over the wealth of information on the datapad.

"Well? Captain? You gonna leave me hanging or...?" Admiral Woods said, starting to get upset.

"Sorry... It's Kre'fey. It looks like he's found a location for the Academy..." The High Admiral replied.

"Already? Fuck. That Bothan doesn't mess around." Woods said, clearly surprised.

"No... he doesn't." Marin said slowy, still reading over the data.

"Where is it?" Woods asked.

"Arkanis. By the looks of it they already have a Naval Academy established which was once used by both the Republic and the Empire at some point."

"So... we wouldn't have to build one from the ground up? Which means it might not be up to our specifications..." Woods said, not sure whether going with a pre-existing Naval Academy would be beneficial to the future officers of the Alliance.

"It seems that the facility meets the criteria that Kre'fey and I agreed on." Faulker replied, focused on the datapad.

"You said the Academy was once used by the Empire?"

"Yes, that's what it says here, why?" Faulker asked, looking up to meet Matthias Woods' gaze.

"Well then it's on their RADAR... what if they decide to 'liberate' the Academy? What then? We're up Shit's Creek."

"Kre'fey already thought of that, it's here in his analysis. The Imps have Carida, and a few other of the larger Academies in their service. Also, it's off the beaten path. It's not near any major trade routes and it's far out into the Outer Rim. The Empire at this point, isn't large enough to require another Academy. If they did, they'd look for a location closer to home."

"So it's out in the boonies?" Woods asked, coming to the conclusion himself.

"Exactly, which provides the type of discretion we need. It looks like we'll even be able to do some actual flight training and put these kids in the cockpits of some real live ships." Marin said, nodding.

"Where do I sign, Chief? Sounds good to me." Woods replied.

"Hmmm..." The sound came from Marin's mouth as he noticed the conclusion of Kre'fey's report.

"What is it?"

"Well, looks like Kre'fey needs our help. He's begun the initial discussions with the Academy but needs our help solidifying the deal. They won't commit until they speak with an Alliance representative directly. It looks like the deal was, he'd have an Alliance rep out to Arkanis by the end of the week."

"OK? I don't see the problem, Mare. Have Kre'fey handle it, he knows what he's looking for."

"True, but he's a soldier not a diplomat or a negotiator. It wouldn't be in our best interest to send a soldier in to negotiate a deal that could affect us for the next several years. He was smart to defer to us."

"OK, have you forgotten that you're a soldier too? I'm a soldier. We're <i>all</i> soldiers. Except.." Woods said, catching himself.

"Vance." They both said in unison.

"Exactly, Vancenti Michelangelo Taesch." Marin said. "The only problem is... he's on Abridon negotiating their acceptance into the Alliance, I don't know if he'll be able to make it out to Arkanis in time."

"Only one way to find out..." Woods said.

Marin hit a button on his console patching through to Morgan. "Morgan, get a message to Vance and see if he can make it out to Arkanis by the end of the week, I've got an urgent project that needs his individual attention. Attach the file from Bandor Kre'fey along with the message. Get me an update on Abridon while you're at it. Lastly, get with Accounting and have them run a financial profile on the Arkanis Academy, I want to know profit trends for the last three decades and want to know who their clients are. I want to know everything about that facility, if the headmaster at the Academy takes a shit I want to know what it smells like."

"As always, your eloquence makes me whole, Admiral. Consider it done." Morgan replied, giggling.

"Too much?" Faulker asked, after he cut the transmission.

"Accounting? What the fuck is th is Vinda Corp?" Woods said, ignoring the question.

"It's the greatest thing Vance has ever thought of. We've got an off-site department dedicated to not only keeping track of our own financial situation, but they can provide detailed financial data on any entity in the known Galaxy."

"Neat." A simple response for a complex situation.

"With that financial profile, Vance can find out what their overhead is, how many students are going through the sytem, what their instructors get paid... The list goes on and on. With that information he can go into that meeting prepared to make a deal that mutually beneficial to all parties involved."

"And we won't get screwed over because Vance knows what types of profits they're operating with currently..." Woods concluded.

"Exactly."

"You, Marin Faulker are a genius."

"I, try."

And with that, the two men went about their business, of which there was much. Soon, if things went well, and with a little bit of luck, the future naval officers of the Alliance to Restore the Republic would be training on Arkanis.

Lambda-class Shuttle Red One, Arkanis

“I always did hate these…things.”

Kre’fey suppressed an urge to grin. “Sei’lar, what else would we use? An X-wing?”

The other Bothan scowled and grumbled. “It would at least not be Imperial. The Republic’s Fleet Gigs. Those would be nice about now. Smoother ride, faster, you know, perfect.”

“Perfect for attracting attention,” admonished Bandor, “using a Fleet Gig would be like riding a giant advertisement for the reestablishment of the Republic. That’s not what we need right now. But you’re right, it would be a hell of lot more fitting, and economical.”

“Hey Captain,” shouted the pilot from the cockpit, “we’re about to land. I’d say about it in three minutes.”

“Thank you Veers,” acknowledged the Bothan Admiral, “we’ll be ready.”

“And off your rickety crate,” added Sei’lar sardonically.

“Hey now, she has held up, hasn’t she?” defended Veers.

Sei’lar grumbled some more, his fur rippling. Bandor’s feline face warped into a toothy smile. Oh, Sei’lar. Another diedhard purist. He’s going to have an interesting time adjusting to the rest of the Alliance, if he ever gets off the Excalibur, that is. The shuttle’s cabin slightly jerked as Red One’s landing struts embraced the duracrete landing pad. Sei’lar opened his mouth to utter another complaint about the ship, but just as quickly clamped his mouth shut. Bandor nodded.

“You have talked to this Rodham, before?”

Sei’lar hesitated. “Sort of. Only text messages, really. And through a Holonet Chat Relay system.”

“Backed-up, I hope?”

“Naturally.”

The Rebel Alliance’s need for secrecy had forced the fleet to adopt security measures so not only could they not be identified as a single group, but so they could not be traced either. It had been a difficult transition for many of the fleet’s elements, but for the Bothans, who were already adept with the skills of espionage. Still, Bandor and his comm. officer had to frequently make sure the Excalibur kept to these new protocols. Kre’fey nodded.

“Well, let’s go meet this human, shall we?”



“You have us,” admitted Rodham, “Finances aren’t exactly the best. As well, the motivation of our instructors and students is at an all time low. It is time for things to change at the Academy. If Vennator Academy is ever to ascend to greatness, it will most likely happen by working with you Rebels.”

Not quite what I was expecting. A half-hour in, and he’s already accepting our first offer? What the hell? I mean, he’s a little quick. Kre’fey stared at the dark eyes of the administrator. So quick to bite? So quick to admit? What is the catch? Sei’lar shifted uncomfortably in his seat, cleared his throat, and caught the man’s attention.

“With all due respect, Mr. Rodham, this is not solely your decision to make, at least according to your character with the current government of Arkanis. You have talked to your staff about this? And perhaps your government liaison?”

The man waved a hand. “Our government liaison has no impact on this kind of internal Academy decision, though in the long run, it may well affect Arkanis.”

“And the teachers?” questioned the Bothan Admiral.

Rodham smiled. “No, they have not made a decision yet. I have talked to several of them who I thought would be sympathetic to your cause, I think it should not be difficult to swing them to support this decision. That is, if you were to meet their leader.”

“Formally, or informally?” questioned Kre’fey.

“Informally,” replied Rodham, “he’s the informal leader of the old Republic cadre of trainers. Trust me, his word commands the respect of staffers not even part of his cadre. If we can swing him, we swing the Academy. I hope you do not mind, but I informed Schutlz, that is the leader, that you meet with him in a couple of hours, after the tour I’ve prepared with you.”

“He served with the Republic?” asked Kre’fey.

“And the Alliance. And all the time from the cockpit of an X-wing,” informed Sei’lar, flashing a smile, “I read up on your Academy’s more influential staff members. Thought it might come in handy.”

The man ushered forth a faint smile. “Naturally. It is best to know who you are negotiating with.”

“If it is possible,” requested the Bothan, “I would much like to see Mr. Schultz on our tour, Mr. Rodham. Even have him accompany us for the duration of our stay, so he can truly see who we are.”

The Administrator nodded. “Very well. He shouldn’t have a class at the moment. I’ll call him shortly. Give me a minute gentlemen, erm…gentlebeings.”

“Forgive me, Mr. Schultz, but what squadron did you serve in?” questioned Bandor.

“High Flight.”

Kre’fey thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “And were you with the squadron at Adumar?”

The man shook his head. “I retired from the Republic three years before that. Why do you ask?”

The Bothan toothily smiled. “I was there, commanding the Manfred, a Bulk Cruiser. We fought alongside High Flight on the Republic Fleet’s left flank, somewhat near the Agonizer.”

The other man snorted. “Did you serve much before that?”

“In combat? Only a little,” replied the Bothan quietly, “I was at the Battle of Bilbringi as a midshipman during Thrawn’s Campaign. But for better or worse, most of my combat experience has only been against criminals and pirates.”

Schutlz shook his head. “And now you’re planning to take down the Empire? A lack of experience against them seems like a disadvantage.”

“Perhaps,” mused the Admiral, “but my experience may end up being my greatest strength.”

“How so?”

“Because the fight against the Empire will very much be like that of pirates and smugglers against the Republic. It will be an unglorious shadow war. No grand clashing of fleets, but more hit-and-fades against supply convoys and the like. It will likely take years before the Empire begins to totter.”

Schutlz stopped dead in tracks. “That is how I felt. Back during the heydays of the Alliance I suppose. I remember thinking that if I had children, their children may end being the ones to see the Republic restored.”

“And it’s been restored in your lifetime.”

“And it’s also fallen again,” replied the man tersely, “and the Empire relives. A continual clash of ideologies that will never end. One will wane, the other will rise in a vicious cycle to which I see no end.”

“Perhaps,” admitted the Bothan, “but perhaps not. The Republic stood for millennia before the rise of Palpatine. Very stable. And the Empire? But a few decades? It is a highly unstable government, and this latest reincarnation of the Empire led by Emperor Hyfe has not the size or the grandeur of the Empire of old. It will fall in time.”

“So why are you fighting if it’s going to fall?” questioned the former X-wing pilot, “why risk your life and those of your men for nothing?”

“Because it won’t fall soon enough. If we let the Empire crumble by itself, it will in a matter of a hundred of years, or maybe even decades. But that is not soon enough. Thousands will still live and die during its reign, and every being should have the ability to live with at least the experience of what freedom is. No, we will not bring about the fall of the Empire, we will be its catalyst.”

Schultz nodded in agreement. “I have to admit, I was wary of you and your Alliance from the start. I have come across many who claim to be rebels of late. Pirates, smugglers, anyone who is a never-do-well. All use it is an excuse. Your words, your apparent experience do you well. But tell me this: how can I trust you?”

“You can’t,” replied the Bothan, “if you were to trust me from this instance, I would say that you are a fool. Trust is something earned. If you wish to really see who we are, I invite you to accompany me on my travels with my crew. You can see firsthand who we are and what we do. Trust is something earned with time.”

“Indeed,” noted the man, “it is a voyage I would well like to see sometime, but not now. I’ll tell you what. I agree with your ideas. I support them. And I’ll support this idea of yours to incorporate Vennator Academy into the Alliance, but I have one demand.”

“What is that?”

“I want to be on your ship for a while when you get your first batch of recruits trained out of the Academy. Deal?”

“Done.”

“Excellent,” replied the pilot, “now you have much paperwork to do, and you’ll have to convince some of the other faculty who have significantly different opinions than either myself or Rodham, I’d imagine. I wish you the best of luck with that.”

Kre’fey smiled back. “I actually have to but tour your facility more, for the most part. A real diplomat is suppose to arrive here shortly to conclude the paperwork and bring onboard any naysayers…”

Following the events of Uprising Part II: Building a Foundation (Abridon)

<u><b>A few days later</b></u>

Vance Taesch was worn out. He'd been to meeting after meeting, briefing after briefing. He returned home to Abridon to finalize the deal that made the planet a member of the Alliance, and he had also planned on taking a couple of weeks off to spend with Cylla and the kids. That all changed however when he received an urgent message from Marin Faulker that said Bandor Kre'fey had found a location for the future Naval Academy of the Alliance, sounds like <i>great news</i>. Wrong. What it meant for Vance was more work, more negotiations, more meetings, and more briefings.

Luckily, Bandor had all but finalized the deal himself, in fact if it weren't for Bandor Kre'fey there probably wouldn't have been a deal. Vance just wished that Kre'fey had finalized the deal himself so that could still be enjoying some much needed R&R on Abridon. Perhaps if Vance's meeting went well he would have time to return to Abridon for a week or so before returning to work, <i>perhaps</i>.

"Anna, what time are we scheduled to meet with Rodham and Regent?" Vance asked, as they exited which landed on the hotel where they would be staying, surround by security personnel in every direction.

"1400, sir."

Vance looked down at his chronometer, <i>1327</i>.

"Can you order a bite to eat for me? A sandwich or something, maybe a salad. Something light."

"No problem, sir. Before or after the meeting?" Anna asked as she pulled out her datapad.

"Before, please. I'm starving."

"Yes, sir. Here are the most up-to-date details which we just received from Kre'fey's people. It looks like Rodham is man in charge of the Vensenor Flight Academy, and according to Kre'fey he's already agreed to accept us as his one and only client. We also received some financial information from Marin which details your standard profit and loss, quarterly earnings, margins, etcetera for the past thirty years." Anna said as she handed him the documents which he immediately began to thumb through as they walked into the hotel and made their way towards the penthouse suite.

"It appears that Vensenor Flight Academy is one of the largest contributors to the Arkanis Regency. Today we'll be meeting Regent Samooreya who is basically the figurehead of the Arkanis Government. The Regent will try and portray that the decision as to whether or not Arkanis joins the Alliance is up to him, but in reality they rely heavily on funds from the Academy, so the decision is up to Rodham." Anna concluded as they made their way down a long hallway inside the hotel.

"Interesting, so play nice with the Regent, make him feel like he's the one in charge and don't blow the deal that Bandor made with Rodham. Sounds like we might just be out of here in time to enjoy some semblance of a vacation, Anna." Vance said, smiling. "And get me that sandwich. I'm famished."

<u><b>1400 Hours</b></u>

"Regent Samooreya, it is so nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you. It really is an honor." Vance said, extending both hands to the leader of the Arkanis Government.

"The honor, is all mine, Mr. Taesch." The human Regent said, clothed in a flowing red robe. He was hairless, yet not bald, he clearly shaved his head. His facial hair provided an interesting design, one that Vance had never seen before, and did not know what, or if there was a name for it.

"And you must be Rodham." Vance said, extending a hand to the gentleman. "I feel like I've known you forever with all the communications we've been exchanging. It's nice to finally meet you." The Chief of State said, still smiling brightly.

"Nice to meet you too, Vance. Bandor said a lot of great things about you."

"Did he? That's great. Bandor Kre'fey's a great guy. Well, now that we're all here, mind if I get to business?" Vance said, as the three men became seated.

"Of course." The Regent said, and Rodham nodded in agreement.

"Regent Samooreya, I'll get straight to the point if you allow me."

"Yes, Mr. Taesch. I would appreciate it."

"As you know, Regent; the Alliance is currently searching for a home for our Naval Academy. We've got more pilots than we know what to do with, but our training facilites are... shall we say... lacking?" Vance said, as the Regent remained silent, nodding that he was following the conversation.

"Well, we need a place to train these future pilots and officers of the Alliance. A top-notch facility that will not only train these young men and women, but shape the future of the Alliance itself. Now, do you believe your facility here matches that criteria, Regent?" Vance said, it was a technique as old as time itself. Vance phrased the question in such a way that now the Regent would try and convince Vance that Arkanis was right for the Alliance.

"I do believe so, Mr. Taesch. Rodham and the others at Vensenor Flight Academy have worked hard to achieve levels of success that have far surprassed many Flight Academys in the Galaxy. In my opinion, Vensenor is among the highest class throughout the entire Galaxy."

Vance saw that his initial tactic was working even better than he had anticipated, so he continued.

"Hmmm.. so you're telling me that Vensenor Flight Academy is on par with the likes of... Carida?" Vance said, knowing that this particular question would illicit two responses from the Regent.

Firstly, that the Regent would adamantly support Vensenor's reputation against any Academy in the Galaxy, even one as prestigious as Carida. Secondly, that the very mention of Carida and through it, the Empire, would expose the Regent's true feelings regarding the Empire.

Vance knew that Arkanis was once a loyal supporter of the Empire, but that wasn't in Regent Samooreya's day, that was during the days when Arkanis had Emperors and Empresses of its own, of course all that changed once the Empire took over. After the Empire was dissolved, the political structure of Arkanis was changed for good, never again would there be an Emperor of Arkanis, instead there was the Regent. And the Regent would do everything in his power to distance himself from the past rulers of Arkanis. In this case, that meant distancing himself from the Empire.

"Mr. Taesch, I would say that Vensenor is beyond the likes of Carida. This is among the best facilities you will find in this fine Galaxy." The Regent replied, just as Vance knew he would.

"Well, Regent Samooreya, I must tell you; the Alliance and the Empire don't exactly go together well.." and before Vance could continue the Regent cut him off.

"Mr. Taesch, I can assure you that every soldier trained here at Vensenor Flight Academy, will be done with the utmost of discretion. Based on the monetary compensation you sent over to Mr. Rodham's offices, I believe we can work out some sort of deal. That is, if you offer Arkanis the full support of the Alliance if we are to join your cause."

The Regent got straight to the point, and he did Vance's job for him. Now, there was just one last thing to cover, and thanks to Bandor Kre'fey, that base was already covered.

"Well, Regent Samooreya, I can assure you that were you to commit Arkanis to join the Alliance to Restore the Republic, you would have the full faith and support of both me, and Marin Faulker himself. However, one question still remains. Rodham, are you okay with commiting both the Academy and Arkanis itself to the Alliance?" Vance said, looking into Rodham's eyes.

"I believe we have a deal, Mr. Taesch." Rodham said, as the Regent stood up to shake hands with the Alliance Chief of State.

"Very well then, gentlemen. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to the Alliance. We're glad to have your support." Vance said, shaking both men's hands.

"And allow me to be the first, Mr. Taesch; to welcome you and yours to Arkanis and the Vensenor Flight Academy. I'm sure that you will find that our facilities more than meet your expectations."

With that, the hands were shook, and the deal was made. The future pilots and officers of the Alliance would be training at the Vensenor Flight Academy, and Arkanis was now a full-fledged member of the Alliance to Restore the Rebupblic.

And now, it was time for a much-deserved vacation.