Dak's eyes fluttered open, struggling against the oppressive brightness of his surroundings. While his vision acclimatized, he tried to move, with limited success. His limbs were heavy and stiff, each muscle groaning under the strain, but, he noted with slight relief, nothing seemed to be broken. He staggered to his feet, unsteady, weary, but without any particularly grievous pain. He found himself standing over a makeshift bed fashioned from old sheets and blankets, in what seemed to be a shed littered with dust, industrial tools and other detritus. On the opposite side of the room, he noticed a second figure also on a pile of cloth, Wedge! Dak rushed to his friend's side, checking his condition. Miraculously, Wedge was alive, and in reasonably good health, considering the crash they'd both endured. The worst of his injuries seemed to be a broken arm, which was bandaged in a bacta-cast. Dak stared for a few long moments as the healing liquid bubbled trough the network of narrow tubes encasing Wedge's left forearm, trying to recall how they'd ended up there.
He remembered nudging Wedge's X-Wing, trying to guide it with a tractor beam, and their eventual impact upon Andriss's surface. He and his droid, R3, emerged relatively unscathed, and he remembered racing towards the crater where Wedge had come down. Then, it got hazy. The acrid smell of leaking fuel, smoldering wreckage, ripping open the semi-shattered cockpit canopy, dragging Wedge out, a fireball, a cloaked figure emerging from the shadows, then darkness.
Dak creased his brow anxiously. He didn't like mysteries, or relying on the supposed kindness of strangers. He'd remained alive in the smuggling business because he kept his distance, looked out for himself. The idea that someone had just taken in two injured pilots was suspicious to a man like Dak. But he was also pragmatic enough to be grateful, nonetheless.
"We'll get out of this, Wedge." he said to his unconscious friend. "Just hang in there, okay buddy?"
A short time later, Wedge began to stir.
"What happened last night?" he said, voice cracking.
"You tried to drink Wes under the table." Dak replied, with forced mirth. "Of course, after the Eridian gin, it gets a bit fuzzy."
"My arm?" Wedge muttered, observing his cast for the first time.
"Okay, real talk. You were shot down by Imperials. Wes got out okay but I lost my ship trying to keep you from becoming a tiny streak of carbon burned into this lousy rock."
"No. Not possible. I don't get get shot down."
"Well, that's what happened, unless you want to claim it was falling with style?" said Dak. "The Empire's got some shiny new TIEs, impervious to conventional weapons fire. If we can't find out how they work and figure out a way of shutting down production soon, then we may as well kiss this rebellion goodbye."
"I think you've got bigger problems in your immediate future." boomed a deep gravelly voice from the shed's doorway. "Alone, injured, and trapped on an Imperial mining colony. Which by the way, currently has a Star Destroyer blockading the planet."
Wedge forced himself upwards using his elbows, to confront this new arrival, but the strain he applied to his injured arm caused him to slump downwards again. Dak swivelled around, eyes narrowing with caution as he observed the intruding figure. He was a tall, stocky man probably in his late forties, though the heavy lines scored across his face added a decade to his appearance. His eyes were old and harsh, sunk into a craggy face littered with wrinkles and scars. Rough, uneven stubble framed his weary face, extending up to meet his similarly cropped, fading hair. His hands were large, strong, and covered with thick calluses.
"You're the one who found us in the wreckage." Dak stated, with belated recognition. "I suppose a thank you is in order." His tone was neutral, bordering on friendly, yet he remained wary of this seemingly helpful ally.
"Sloane Fell, mining sub-subsupervisor, night shift. Just be glad I found you before any of the patrols." The man answered cheerily.
"And you just took us in, out of the kindness of your heart?" Dak asked, pointedly. "I'm sure the Imperials would reward anyone with information on two rebellious fugitives. Rare to find a person who values morality above credits." As he continued to probe their rescuer, Dak couldn't help but feel the lack of weight tugging at his waist, due to an empty holster.
"Being straight with ya, I value my freedom above either." replied the man as he met Dak's glare with one of his own. "Best way to avoid trouble is to avoid attention. Bringing down the wrath of that sniviling Moff sounds like attention to me."
"Yet you took us in. You could have just left us in the wreckage." added Wedge, with some effort.
"In which case I may as well have just shot you both. Death sentence either way." He sighed, before continuing: "Look, I happened to walking along the ridge when I saw you come down. I was close enough to help, so I did. I couldn't live with just doing nothing and letting you die, so I got you to my cabin before the Imps came knocking. I can't house you for more than a few days, without drawing suspicion, but that should be long enough for you both to heal up and arrange safe passage."
Dak was still unsure if he could trust the man, despite how sincere he appeared to be, so he tested the water again. "If the Empire is going to come looking for us though, perhaps we should be armed? Could you return my blaster, by any chance?"
Sloane shook his head in reply, but upon noticing Dak's deepening scowl, he added "Must have been lost in the crash, you weren't carrying anything when I found you.... but feel free to borrow one of those mining lasers. Limited charge, but should pack enough of a punch on the highest settings, if that'll make you feel better."
"And my droid? Where have you hidden R3?"
"Not hidden. He took off towards the condenser relay about half a klick that way." Slone said, pointing westward. "He's a loyal little machine. Refused to leave your side for hours, until my protocol droid convinced him to help with a recalibration. Your droid is as loyal as mine is... relentless."
In spite of his own suspicions, Dak laughed. While still unsure if they could fully trust Slone, he certainly made it difficult not to. Not that he and Wedge really had a choice anyway, there wasn't much of an alternative. After a little more convincing, they decided there was nothing to do but rest, wait until nightfall, then come up with a plan. Attempting anything else during daylight hours would be too easy to draw the attention of a passing patrol.
***
As the last remnants of the light faded away from outside the windows of the modest domicile, the three men had reconvened for a light meal. Slone's protocol droid was clearing away the remnants of supper. Designated A-1FN, or 'Al', its ancient casing was a mix of scavenged spare parts, with rust being the only unifying theme to its colour scheme. R3 followed along behind Al, warbling a series of unwanted suggestions, attempting to improve his fellow droid's efficiency, despite Al's continued protestations.
"So, what do you know about Andriss?" Sloane asked, while mopping up the few remaining crumbs from his plate.
"Not much, mining colony, moderate resources, fairly unimportant." Dak replied with a shrug.
"I think what my friend means to say is that..." started Wedge, before Solane shushed him.
"Spare me the platitudes, it's true." admitted Slone. "This colony was founded about 200 years ago, when some probes from the Mining Guild suggested it showed mild interest. Nobody's dug out anything other than mediocre quality ore since."
"If you'll excuse the question, why is it still here then? Surely there are more profitable planets you could have moved to?" Wedge asked, pleasantly.
"Stubbornness, plain and simple. We were born here, as were our fathers, and their fathers. We belong here, not that the powers that be ever saw it that way."
"What do you mean?" Dak asked.
"Andriss has never had a voice in the Senate. We're too small to be considered an official colony world. Same with the Guild. Our production isn't valuable enough to give us any say. No control over the regulations that bind us, or the rules which govern us." Sloane ranted, his face reddening with indignation. "But still we've clung on, dug in, and kept on working."
"Why not channel those frustrations against those who cause them? The Empire won't give you a say, why not help us?" urged Wedge. "The Alliance wants to help planets like yours."
Sloane scoffed, and clapped his hands suddenly. "It was the same under the Republic as the Empire, kid. Your Alliance won't be any different."
"But..." Wedge started, but was cut off.
"Don't even bother. You talk a good game, full of hope and wishes, but what about cold, hard, honest facts? If Andriss signed up to your little Rebellion, how would you ensure we continue to get contracts? What kind of tariffs will we face? If the Empire comes back looking for the resources you've denied them, will you defend us? I doubt you have the firepower to repel even a single Star Destroyer."
Wedge couldn't help but feel frustration of his own. "I'm not saying it'll be easy, but we want to help anyone subjugated by the Empire."
"Wedge." Dak said, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. He gave a quick look, urging caution against a pointless argument.
"Help? Don't make me laugh. Let me tell you what your help has done for us, shall I? You've been raiding transports coming to resupply the base, three or four times now. What do you think happens after each one? Sloane jeered. Wedge was silent, fearing he already knew the answer.
"They take food from us. Increase rationing, horde everything for themselves. If you liberate machinery, we're forced to dig regardless, with broken tools. Backbreaking labour, for little reward. Your attempts to disrupt their supply lines only affect us, not the Imperials."
"What would you have us do?" asked Wedge in response. "Stand by, not interfere, let the Empire expand until nowhere is safe, or free? If the gain any more control, there will be no resistance. No options, except subservience."
"Call this resisting? You say you want to help, but what you do only hurts the people like me. Citizens, trying to make a living. All the while the Empire continues without challenge. You haven't a hope of stopping them directly, so you raid their supply lines, winning little victories here and there, patting yourselves on the back while nothing changes. If you want to help, take out the Emperor, and leave us innocents out of it. All you're managing to do is bloody the Empire's nose, while innocent civilians pay the price." Sloane said, seething.
"Enough!" bellowed Dak, loud enough to silence the room. "Our actions have consequences, of course they do, but get some perspective man! Now, I'm sorry our efforts have inconvenienced you, truly I am, but look at the Empire. It bleeds worlds dry, enslaves entire populations, suppresses facts and instills fear into billions if not trillions. It is evil, and must be fought. Doing anything else is merely condoning their actions. Call us the enemy if you wish, if it helps you sleep at night. I'm stained by the blood of innocent lives, but don't pretend your hands are clean. Every crime of the Empire is one in which its citizens are complicit."
"But nobody can do it alone. We don't have the resources to face the Imps head on. Only by standing together, in defiance, can the Galaxy hope to free itself." continued Wedge.
"It's all too easy to sit on the sidelines, as long as you're able to ignore the harm the Empire causes. Surely taking a stand, resisting its evil, is worth some mild personal suffering? Compared against the plight of political prisoners, of the slave labour camps, the xenophobia, all rampant under Imperial rule?"
"I will not be berated, in my own home, by a pair of fanatical terrorists!" Sloane roared, his head now tinged apoplectically purple. The Rebel's words had cut him surprisingly deep, and even he was taken aback by the vitriol in his voice. "Get out now, leave me alone, and I might not alert the Stormtroopers!"
***
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