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I'm waking up to ash and dust
His eyes opened in the dark. Grit ground at them as sandpaper as he blinked away the small particles that clung stubbornly, clouding his vision of the darkened room. Pushing himself upright his hands raised and palms rubbed his face, clearing away the trace vestiges of slumber from his features.
Rising from the cot he grabbed his shirt and draped it over his left shoulder as he exited the bunker that had become the barracks. His boots scuffed the stone steps as he climbed to the first floor. Down a hall he moved through a cracked archway and into the predawn light.
The skies were filled with violet hues heralding the imminent arrival of the morning sun. Moving to a set of duracrete stairs on the exterior of the building he climbed up several stories to reach the flat rooftop. The first ray of sun light fell across the city. The capital of Eshan lay spread out before him.
I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust
Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, drops running down his bare torso, as he stood a silent sentry watching for the ship. The sun broke from the horizon and began it's trek into the heavens and still he stood waiting. He had received reports that had the ship arriving this morning.
The wizened form of Eret soon joined him, the elder's sightless eyes gazing into the distance. Long pale whisps of hair fluttered in the breeze. Minutes later Talia appeared beside the ancient man. Her pale echani eyes contrasted with the thick brunette braids that fell midway down her back.
Together they watched.
I'm breathing in the chemicals
Eret raised his chin subtlety drawing the first man's glowing gaze. A nearly imperceptible nod and the man returned his eyes to the heavens. A ship became visible as the air pressure shifted ever so minutely. The sound barrier was broken with a thunderous roll that echoed over the city like a triumphant trumpet.
Eret bowed his head with tears tracking across his weathered visage. Talia attempted to smother a curse yet it escaped with vehemence. The ship appeared overhead, the scent of ozone and exhaust billowing across their bodies as the ship lowered toward the newly finished spaceport.
From their vantage point they watched The vessel land and extend the ramp. Men and women disembarked and began to be formed into groups. Work details.
I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus
As they watched several transport skiffs arrived and the work details were loaded into them. Who had arranged for these people to be brought here? You could never get a definitive answer. Someone in government, someone in power. But no matter how many ways you tried to find out, you could never get a straight answer. They weren't slaves or prisoners, no, but the words used were volunteers or conscripts. What it came down to were these were a Thrysian workforce aiding the echani.
Eret and Talia left the rooftops leaving the man silently watching as the transports began heading out to areas of the city that had yet to be repaired.
Moving to the edge the man crouched and absently rubbed the stubble adorning his face. It wasn't slavery. But it was something that was worse. Indentured servitude for a people who were like cousins to the echani. And worse still, these were people from Bengali, where Thrysian and Echani had created an amalgamation in a race that was both, yet neither.
The guarded transports passed in the streets below.
This is it, the apocalypse
Dresdin Astil. Assassin, Sith, warrior, mercenary, Witch, Sensei, and a son of Bengali. He was heir of both Thrysian and Echani. He was of the Astil Clan on Bengali. He was dead.
But above all else, Dresdin Astil was a friend and blooded brother of Muad Dib.
Slowly the man stood, jaw set, as a snarl formed upon his face. He had come months ago to watch over his brother's people, the same people who adopted him into their clan, to ensure that the destruction that rained down during the war between Mandalorian and Confederate would not claim the clan of assassins during the apocalypse come to Eshan.
I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones, Enough to make my systems blow
An echo of an explosion sounded from the spaceport, a wave of nausea filtering through every cell of the man. A ripple in the force that tore at the fabric of existence as many souls entered the void in a sudden rush that left a vacuum. Tendrils pulled at his bones as the emptiness of what was moments before vibrant , now was silent. Death had claimed souls.
Rising to his feet he turned as Talia rushed back up to the roof, a small hologram projector displaying a scene that had just played out. Mandalorians waving the standard of the Infernal were posturing to a group of Jedi as Echani merely watched.
A twitch of his face was his only expression.
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Eyes flickered to the spaceport as he rolled his shoulders lightly, Talia waiting. The breeze cooled his fevered brow. Then he spoke without turning.
"Prepare to move out. This changes nothing. A new day is dawning today. A new age for Eshan, the Echani, and the Thrysians."
A twisted grin spread across her face as she turned abruptly on a heel and leapt down the stairs in bounds. Taking the shirt over his shoulder he wiped the sweat from his face and let it drop from the heights before making way back to the cot where he had awoken.
I raise my flags, don my clothes
Standing before his cot he slipped out of his boots and trousers and looked at his gear laid out. Dressing quickly he armored and armed himself. It was second nature, preparing for conflict, for battle. Each piece forged and formed to his exact dimensions. Every weapon fit in his hand like an extension of his body. They completed him. Lifting the buy'ce he paused and looked at the darkened interior knowing there was no turning back should he don the helm.
He tucked the helmet into the crease of his arm and marched once more from the barracks to climb to the rooftop again.
This time he was not alone.
The rooftops over several blocks were filled with bodies. Mando'ade of Clan Farr stood in blackened armor, a blue orb with three red slashes through it adorning their pauldrons. Members of House Dib watched, the same symbol stitched upon padded jackets, rifles cradled in their arms. A squad of Knights of Aegis perched nearby, their golden armor marred only by the same design patterned into their breastplate over their heart. The Thrysians stood to be counted with the others, bands around arms with the selfsame markings as the others. Filling out the remaining spots were Aegis Troopers proudly bearing the new marks upon their armor.
They waited watching their leader, Muad Dib.
It's a revolution, I suppose
We'll paint it red to fit right in
His blue eyes pierced into those gathered. Unrepentant. Unshakable. Unyielding. They had joined together, in this moment, in this place, to make a stand. To make a point. To make a revolution. He looked down into the buy'ce that lay in his hands. Two words escaped his lips as he made the decision that could not be undone.
"For Bengali."
The helm was lowered over his face, his choice completed with the act of sealing his armor. It was war.
All systems go, the sun hasn't died
Deep in my bones, straight from inside
"Move into position."
With three words the Revolution had begun. A flurry of activity as the men and women gathered burst into action. Over the closed communications the tempo of audible clicks crashed upon him with a crescendo. He allowed a small smile to crease his face before the seriousness of his actions hardened his features once more. A near silent whisper reverberated within his helmet, audible only to himself.
"I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones. Welcome to the New Age."
