Choal

The first day of the first month, a day of new year tidings and resolutions - a time of celebration. For all the galaxy, this held very true: but not for Jabiim, here in the Outer Rim. This year held no joy, or promise of future beginnings. Hope was replaced by the ominous thump of First Order walkers, the comforting patter of children's feet in muddy streets replaced with the regimented march of booted Stormtroopers, the sky, once only filled with clouds and thunder, filled with the scream of TIE fighters. Here in Choal, this had been common place for nearly three years now. The spot checks for identification, the absence of the children, the sparsely populated markets...Jabiim had seen better days, and, considering its history, that was saying something.

Such as it was that Luscen Tain sat in an outdoor shop in one of the markets of Choal, eating stewed Rallok soup, watching the rain pour down in torrents. Amused, he watched as a column of Stormtroopers slogged through the mud, their white armor stained dark brown up to the thigh - the forces very obviously not used to used the precipitous conditions. Even from here he could hear their grumbling, and the Officer leading them, identifiable by his drab green uniform, could be heard across the whole of the square - his expletives filling the air. Yes, it was a rainy planet - they had no more than five days without rain here on Jabiim, and that was on a good year. To say it was a muddy little ball with a heart of ore would be, perhaps, a little too generous to the water soaked world. But it was home, and to the native Jabiimi, it was all they had ever known.

As the column of troopers drew nearer, Lescen turned towards his food, keeping his eyes downcast, and many in the shop did the same, their conversations stopping, the only sound to be heard that of the rain and the clacking of eating utensils. A child ran out across the officer, and shouting at the child (who splashed mud on the man's boots) the officer pulled him aside. Everyone at the shop could hear him ask for the child's identification, and the child's subsequent tears (the boy only being nigh seven years old) as he protested that he was just playing. No one in the shop looked up as the officer began to beat the boy. No one paused in their chewing to help the boy. No one stood, no one yelled - no one did much of anything really. Because this, this was Jabiim. It was only once the Officer stopped, the man pausing only to spit on the child before moving off with troopers in tow, only then, that several moved to pick up the boy and pull him under the cover of awnings, the shopkeep fetching a medkit to treat the boy. "It isn't fair! I didn't do anything wrong! It isn't right!" The boy's words, spoken between sobs, had the innocence of a child attached to them, blissful in their ignorance. But, with them, the truth of all of it; fo, they were words that everyone thought themselves, but couldn't say out of fear. Perhaps, then, the boy was the true hero, for saying aloud what everyone wished they could.

Nevertheless, the boy was chastised for being so foolish, for playing with a scan-doc on him, and from playing so far from home. What if he had been shot? What if they had to add his name to the list of the dead? Question by question, the boy quietened, until, finally, he was sent home to his parents. This time, though, he did not run through the rain. His spirit was dampened by the adults' words. By their warnings. By their fears.

So...really...who were the real monsters here?

Or so though Luscen to himself, as he dug into his soup. His eyes coming up to stare at the backs of the troopers as they marched away. Things had to change. Things had to be different. Tonight, in only a few hours, a meeting was going to be held by Avren Tain, his father. He and a few others were calling together a meeting of various locals. Locals discontent with the Imperial occupation, and who were interested in...alternative...options. This shop, "Jorbeth's Javva Caf" was well known for its late night conversations, open mic night, and other such rallies were small groups could gather and talk about the Imperial presence. The owner, having a strict "No Imperials" rule, was bore the brunt of the local garrison commander's wrath. But, for now, the place remained a safe haven for such discussion and free speech. Lescen hoped to recruit such people to listen to his father. Or, at the least, to spread the word.

Standing, Lescen took out a large handful of pamphlets, before entering the establishment and attaching them to the establishments bulletin board. The shopkeep, Jorbeth himself (A rather portly fellow to be honest, with a balding head but a mammoth snowy white beard), looked over the material, before raising an eyebrow. "Hold dear your rights as Imperials! Join the Tain family in political discourse! Sign the petition, and hold the Order accountable for the breach of YOUR Imperial citizenry rights - on threat of sedition!" Jorbeth shook his head, cleaning a glass, before levelling a finger at Luscen. "That kind of kark is awfully close to treason. Methinks your addle brained daddy's done lost his mind Luscen." Luscen, crossing his arms defiantly, shot back a retort. "What, so I should take it down? You saw what they did to Alec - and he's barely nine cycles! Something has to be done Jorbeth." Jorbeth just shook his head, cleaning yet another gloss, before nodding at the bulletin. "You can keep it up Luscen. But is that really gonna achieve somethin'?" Luscen looked at the bulletins, and the admittedly rather bold message, before, with a sigh, he uncrossed his arms. "...I dunno Jorbeth. I don't know if it will do anything." Admitted Luscen. "But...it's something. And that's better than nothing, right?"

Jorbeth cleaned his last glass, putting it away on the shelf behind him, before cracking his neck. "I 'unno Luscen. I remember the Imps and their labor camps. As bad as this seems...it aint slavery. We got our world, and they leave us, more or less, alone. So longs we put out ore on time." Seeing Luscen grow red, an imminent tirade on the young man's lips, Jorbeth held up a beefy hand, stopping the words. "I know! To a youngin like you, this must seem mighty fierce and unfair...but this worlds seen alot 'o troubles. Xim the Despot, the Clone Wars, the Imperials, now the Order...we come back every time. I say we wait them out...they'll die off one way or another. Someday."

Luscen, holding up his hands, simply indicated he wanted another hot Caf, before walking back outside to his soup - sitting down heavily and with a sigh, slowly taking in a spoonful, his eye roving across the market. Even now, across a way, a Bith selling local vegetables was being harassed by a trio of troopers. Clouds above, how they hated aliens. If only he could do something about it. If only he could...

No. No, now THOSE were dangerous thoughts. So he turned his eyes downward, back to his food, just like everyone else in the shop. Even as blows landed, he didn't look up. Even as the man ran, and was shot in the back, he didn't look up. But, like everyone else present, his grip on his spoon got tighter, his knuckles white, his teeth gritted.

But not a one looked up.

Missed by Luscen until now, he saw a man rolling on the ground - apparently stunned by the troopers when they had shot the Bith. Even now, looters came in, relieving the Bith of his valuables. They began to make a move on the stunned man, but, standing, Luscen walked out into the rain - intervening. "Oi! Go on, get!" Scattering, the assorted sentients left as quickly as they came, and, bending down to loop an arm around the man's shoulders, he half dragged half shouldered the man under the cover of the awnings. "Aye, you gotta be careful in Choal buddy. We're, uh, not exactly the friendliest bunch." Taking in the man's clothes, Luscen dusted the man's shoulders off. "Who are you? A Laborer?"

"Karking vultures. Vermin!"
Luscen cast about furtively, suddenly wary of anyone nearby. "Keep your voice down, you fool!" Propping the man up, he waved to Jorbeth, who brought a cup of something hot over - which he quickly offered to the laborer. "Them's the kind that take pride in reporting naysayers. You want to do something about it? You come to the rally tonight." As he spoke, Luscen crumpled one of his father's pamphlets into the man's jacket, clapping the man on the shoulder before standing and abruptly leaving. The reason why became evident all too soon - the regiment of troopers from before marched back around, finishing their rounds, and one of the scavengers ran up to the officer, whispering to the man before turning to point at Luscen - well, at where he had been anyway. In anger, the officer backhanded the scavenger, before shouting an order to his troopers, the formation continuing on their way.


So the pamphlet would say. Hopefully many would attend, and all this foolishness with the First Order would be put to rest. A simple rally in which the voices of the people were going to be recorded and introduced into the next piece of legislation, it would be a lawful meeting by the local governor, Avren Tain, to hear from the populace. It would be safe, secure, and nothing but beneficial...

Right?