Public LIVE, FROM CORUSCANT | The Final Broadcast of Halifax Hewitt

[Halsia Hewitt]

_________________________________________
The Room​

The tension was frigid – walks were stiff, jaws were clenched, breath was held. She’d been to the HNN newsroom a couple of times; never had it looked like this. Producers marched like soldiers ready to die, technicians fixed things they’d had ready for days, reporters and guests waited like hospital patients.

Halsia was not unaffected. The past few years had been a flurry of practice and learning; she’d gotten good with the old digital camera, but today her eyes felt weak, her fingers slow. She raised the lens for a picture of two of the older reporters sharing a word, but couldn’t get the shot right.

“Yeah, that one’s kinda shit,” came a voice behind her. Her grandfather had a way of sneaking up on people, despite the half-bent waddle he did in his old age. She gave her shoulder a squeeze. “It’s not you. Kerla’s bad in this lighting. And Rex looks like a dumbass anywhere.”

“Heard that, ya bastard,” came the shot back from across the room.

“Suck my foot, you old slug.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time. Not in front of your granddaughter.”

He smiled. She exhaled. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, uh.” She fidgeted with the camera. “I, um- messed up one of the connections. The one by the Galactic Museum. It had- Avez told me how the little thingy has to fit right in the jack, and it was kind of at this weird angle, and it turned green so I think it’s okay, but I feel like I should check on it, or something, because-”

“Halsia,” he said, “don’t worry about it. We’re here. It’s happening. Nothing’s perfect; nothing can be. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here. But we make do. We’ve been here before, but, y’know – the arc of history is long, but oh, does it ever bend.”

Her grandfather had seen the galaxy twice over, the Alliance thrice. His was a gaze that found truth, weeded out falsehood. But here, he created truth: from that moment, she trusted things would be okay, no matter what happened here.

Her smile turned a touch silly. “I’m writing that one down.”

“Oh, Force you are. Kids these days can’t write a word themselves, aye.” He gave her a rough pat on the shoulder, then a comforting squeeze as he made the rounds. For all the years written across his face, his expressions kept that larger-than-life quality to them; he drew a smile out of everyone in the room within the next ten minutes. Soon they were loose, laughing, alive. Halsia’s grip loosened, her gaze sharpened, and she caught a dozen moments of her grandfather and his old friends.

She thought of her own. No one in the room had illusions about what they were about to do -- and yet, somehow, she knew Jedi, knew people out there who were making a difference. She felt small, and yet, this was one of those little things, the ones that built rebellions, that toppled empires. It was monumental to her.

Hal (SIA plant) Today at 7:25 PM

hey uhhhhh im about to do something dangerous
so if we don’t chat a while that’s why
wish me luck


They held their breath again when her grandfather took his seat, the low seat in the interview room he somehow made look like a throne. He put on the headset, gave a “Testing, testing,” got his thumbs up from the booth, and everything got rolling.

Halsia found a seat on the tech side by Avez, the wiry Rodian’s fingers walking like insects across the control board. “Alright, folks. Booting in three, two… power draw stable. Routing in three, two… and we’re in, Imperial frequencies locked. Ready for override.”

A look to the man inside. He gave the thumbs up.

“Alrighty,” Rex said. “Let’s make it count. We’re live in five, four…” Three, two…

_________________________________________
The Cast
​

Across Coruscant and beyond, anywhere Imperial Holovision or the other main propaganda channels were cast, the feed cut black for a brief moment, before returning the weathered visage of the one and only Halifax Hewitt. Despite the pace of the Core through his past half-decade of retirement, many would still recognize him – the most iconic HNN anchor of all time, a prolific reporter and journalist. He’d interviewed the Sword of the Jedi, multiple Chancellors, years upon years of Senators. Since the Alliance’s inception, if you turned on a news broadcast at any point, there was a fifty-fifty chance it was Halifax on the holo. No paragon or warrior on the battlefield, but he, too, was a symbol of the Alliance.

A broad smile. “Gooooooooooood morning, afternoon, and evening my friends. This is Halifax Hewitt, coming to you live from Coruscant. We’re taking a break from our regularly scheduled Imperial programming for a special broadcast today – we’ll be chatting with some of the top experts and reporters on the current state of the Empire and the Alliance.

“We here at what used to be HNN take a lot of pride in our integrity. We’ve had our faults and slip ups – I still owe Mr. Tambor an apology for my role in that story about his progeny – but our goal here, and, I hope, the goal of any journalistic and public media institution, is to speak the truth. It’s to lay it out on the table. When power speaks, it tends to override all else – and that’s a hard thing to meet. It’s a blanket. Ideology is about tying things together, making things make sense; truth is in the holes, the gaps we find. Imperialism’s one hell of a blanket, but Force, are the gaps everywhere.

“So let’s take a look. I’ve got an all-star lineup with me today, and we’ll be digging into some big topics, talking Solipsis, the Grand Vizier, the Empire, Jedi, the Senate, the Core, and more. I hope you’ll stay with us 'til the end.

“Our first guest today is a tour de force. We worked together for nearly two decades, and she still had the smarts and writing chops to turn around and become a professor of history at GCU. She reported for years on the Sith Empire and New Imperial Order, and has written ten galactic best-sellers on imperialism. Her ABY 900 book, PR-OPS: How Imperial Lies Spread in the Core, tackles some of the most important issues in political and Senate discourse, and puts them in the broader historical context of prior Imperial regimes, the compromises made by the early Alliance, and the deep-rooted problems with how we think about what makes good government. She’s currently working on a collection of essays on the so-called Emperor himself. Here she is: the one and only Kerla Zellsin. Kerla, welcome to the show.”

_________________________________________
The Streets
​

As soon as Zek heard the broadcast start, he was on his guard, expecting Imperial intsec to be swarming the place immediately. Instead, there was confusion; many "what just happened"s, "is this on the schedule"s. HNN's- now Imperial Holovision's- main office was awash in that usual mid-day blank light, a warm feed of nothing nutritious to the Empire's new citizenry. Many people's memory was short, or so they claimed; those who stood to benefit from the Empire's takeover made their choice quickly.

In this office, it was the worst anchors, the laziest writers, now backed by a fresh team of propagandists. Everyone toed the party line. Most of the real talent was long gone.

But Zek remembered. He remembered the first time Star Destroyers hung low over the Senate Plaza, and then the time when one came bursting through it. For all their talk of strength, prosperity, and freedom, he knew what the Imperials were.

So he stayed at his desk, doing his best not to sweat -- his best not to let anyone know how one of the many signal routers was strapped into his very terminal, using Imperial broadcast power to transmit Halifax's words across the Empire.

Spoiler: Notes and Tags

I'll post some extra vignettes to flesh out bits on how they're managing to hijack Imperial broadcasts, but honestly, dress it up however you'd like. All I'd like is a couple posts before they get caught -- or make their great escape. Mostly I'll be posting the broadcast.

Text for: Kyric Damien Dooku Sol Dara Capris Halcyon (?)

 

[Lydia Vandron]

The transport craft was silent and dark save for the glow of a datapad and the buzz of a triangulation device being operated; the officer stood at the helm of thirty or more Imperial soldiers who had, a few days prior, worn the sigil of the alliance military. She herself had been a commander in the Galactic Alliance's defence force, a mid-level figure presiding over a reserve brigade in the Empress Teta sector. When the dark lords' forces had come crushing through the core worlds, she and her men had stood aside on Jerrilek, allowing the empire to take the planet with little loss in life or ships. This act of 'betrayal' allowed the empire a springboard to storm Empress Teta, betrayal is what her former colleagues would call it.

To her, it was merely survival in the face of a greater danger. Without her act, Jerrilek would've burned, and her entire unit would've been destroyed, and its leaders' heads used as footballs by the dark side elite. Lydia Vandron, scion of House Vandron and a former alliance turned Imperial commander, was anything but evil. She had saved lives, not destroyed them.

"Where is the signal coming from, private?"

"Possible multiple positions, we're trying to zero in, but commander, it is tough."

"I want results, we need that old man off the net fast."

She nodded firmly to the signals operator while checking her datapad for updates across the city. Similar units were also deployed, using triangulator units to try to locate the source of what appeared to be multiple signal boosters across the planet. Lydia sighed to herself heavily, pulling her inhaler out and inhaling quickly to regulate her asthma, which had plagued her her whole life. She regained her breathing and steadied herself, smiling to her soldiers before speaking further.

"If Mr Hewitt offers no resistance, take him in peacefully; if he does not comply, kill him."

Halsia Hewitt ​

 

[Damien Dooku]

CORUSCANTI NIGHTS

Coruscant.

For the third time in years, Damien had come back to the one place that he'd sworn to stay away from at all costs. It seemed as if every time the scoundrel had stepped foot on the planet that was once his home, he would inevitably end up in in cuffs, and later on the run. His record was two for three, but this time he was hoping to avoid making his track record yet another trend to follow. This time around, there weren't any prophetic visions, or even family drawing him back to the planet that never sleeps.

It was a favor.

And one he could've ignored, given the circumstances, yet chose not to anyway.

Her name was Halsia. She was a cute redhead that he'd ironically met while in-cuffs during his last run-in with the planet's authorities. She wasn't his type, really; she was a reporter by trade, yet just like him there was a fire within her blood and the resolve to get things done-- just as a reporter, and not a gallivanting free-spirit, to frame his occupation nicely. It wasn't long until he was bailed out alongside her, and the two made fast friends over a couple of milkshakes and some burgers.

It wasn't the type of thing he was use to, especially with a job he'd only ever associated with being a nuisance to his family over the years. Regardless, there was a bond there. Nothing particularly crazy, but she became someone that Damien found worthy to count among those he'd call a friend, and not just an associate.

So when she called him during the worst opportunity that she could have found to contact him, not surprisingly he was hesitant to answer the phone. The scoundrel picked up the device anyway, answering with the enthusiasm of someone who'd been dodging bounty hunters and criminals on and off for a week.

Turned out that she needed a favor. A real big one, and not just the kind that could be put off for a few days and maybe forgot about by the end of the week. That favor would bring him to Coruscant by way of a civilian shuttle to a nearby system, where an unmarked vessel was hijacked from some bad folks who wouldn't miss it one bit. From there it was just a matter of jumping in system and finding a spaceport that didn't ask many questions.

It was raining the night they arrived, adding to the dreary and depressive atmosphere that clung to the city like a newborn to its mother. He clutched his leather jacket as he descended down their stolen shuttle's ramp, pulling it tight enough to block the excess rain pooling above the ship's rear from soaking his shirt as it fell.

The dock-worker approached right as their feet hit the ground. Small talks and pleasantries followed, but Damien had no time to play the game with them tonight. "Fifty creds." He was plain, straight to the point. A credstick fell into the man's hand, sealing the unspoken agreement between them. He exchanged a nod back to Damien and walked off, and they made their way outside, exposed in full to the beauty of the city's skyline at night. For all the trouble that she was, Coruscanti Nights nearly made it all worth it.
​

Almost. ​

Halsia Hewitt Davik Haize Morrow Lydia Vandron Capris Halcyon Kyric


​

 

[Davik Haize]

For the first time in his life, Haize had come to the place that he’d never imagined he’d see. The bleak clouds obnubilating the dark skies did nothing to dampen the awe flickering in his eyes. Endless cloud-cutters pierced the sky from the fathomless depths as if stretching out to challenge the heavens’ eons-old supremacy. Millions of vehicles and ships flowed in perfect lines like the antz files on Kubindi. Lights glowed, flashed, and flickered all across the surface of the galactic throne.

Here, where a single word uttered could define the fate of a hundred worlds thousands of light years away. And now its stellar omnipotence was in the hands of the Galactic Empire.

Stepping down the ramp of the stolen shuttle beside Damien, his gaze swept the rain-pelted docks, noticing the ongoing repairs from the recent battle.

Tsk, he clicked his tongue, it was easy going in, but the more we hang around, the tighter the Imperial noose’s gonna be.

“How well you know this girl?” he asked his companion. The last time he threw his life on the line was for a princess ( Sibylla Abrantes ), and the bullet scar on his chest still burned fresh. This time, he had a bounty on his head and a woman who might just be a well-planned trap.

Damien Dooku Halsia Hewitt Morrow Lydia Vandron Capris Halcyon Kyric
​

 

[Remus Adair]

Remus Harlan Adair swirled the whiskey in his glass over and over. It was the only aide who truly cared at this point. But the imperial officer, one critical to the morale conquest of Coruscant felt drunk off of. Adair had experienced culture before. Avalonia was cultured. A metropolis on the Outer Rim the First Order and Natasi Fortan had forged into a real home from an otherwise unremarkable planet. A place to be proud of. Then came Nova Avalonia. A shallow interpretation of the former. But nevertheless comforting. But none of that really compared to Coruscant proper. Adair had heard the stories, who hadn’t? But to be sat now in a penthouse in the senatorial district, with a distant view of both Jedi Temple and Senate Complex? It was intoxicating in its own right.

Remus had of course earned this right, doing his masters bidding and salvaging the invasion of Coruscant. But Adair did not feel the accolades at this moment. It all felt hollow. Sure, his subordinates now fully respected him beyond just what the rank plaque dictated. But there was a certain shollowness. And that in of it self set up a sprawling sense of emptiness. Almost immediately, it was impossible to escape the air of fear which captured the planet. How people looked at your differently. The disdain, smothered by terror as stormtroopers marched by. Let alone the detention camps. Work had begun quickly and they had sprung up with surprising quickness. At first it made some sense. Senators unfortunate enough not to escape Solipsis grip were first. Their aides. Then anyone connected to the former elite. Military commanders. Officials. Guards. Domestic staff. Former bureaucrats, irregardless of their post or standing. It was an advancing creep which swallowed all who gazed in, and suffocated the city. Everyone now had eyes over their shoulders.And now Solipsis' lists had seemingly ballooned to anyone who’d even stepped foot in a government building.

It sickened Remus. He was of course a hardcore imperialist. Might after all did dictate the terms of the Galaxy. But in the New Imperial Order that had been a necessity. For Prefsbelt Command, mandatory if they were to achieve their goals. But now… Now regret lingered. Cademinu V. The way Coruscant’s populace had rather valiantly, if not stupidly rallied a ragtag fleet to meet the withering turbolasers. And of course that vision… That ghastly vision of him with the knife. Remus’ nerves had been shot, and his only major companion since the battle had been the bottle. And letters.

Condolence letters. Rather than the typical fair of having a droid mass produce them, with only minor alterations to respect heroics vouched for, Remus had buried himself in writing them personally. An act of self flaggellation to make up for his sins. He took them in, hundreds at a time. Most of which were TIE pilots and ensigns. Lower enlisted who were fanatical. But for those whose names he recognised, he wrote a personal epitaph. For those who didn’t, he managed to write a small blurb based on service record. It was tiresome work, with Remus averaging only about twenty to twenty five on a good day. But now, with his fingers knackered and eyes sore from starring at data terminals, the Vice Admiral had retired with a robe and whiskey.

Remus stood, watching the hustle and bustle of Coruscant. He’d long left his transmitter on, waiting for any news. So when it pricked up with a jingle, he approached the transmitter. He had created enough jingoist crap, now was the time to tune it out.. Tired and bothered, he reached the control. He was ready to twist the knob to silence the contraption until he took note of the spiel. No. This wasn’t some propaganda outlet. This was a real broadcast. And one which was taking liberties with the Emperor’s image.

Remus quirked a brow and settled in the chair. Of course this’d be Alliance nonsense he snorted. Their own counterspin to the Empire's emergence and victory. Copium to the remaining masses. But to broadcast locally, from what had to be a local studioin this climate? That took the sort of courage and temerity which he admired. Settling into his armchair, Adair held and raised his glass.

“Give ‘em Hell.” He took a sip, "And don't let the bastards get you."

Halsia Hewitt

 

[Halsia Hewitt]

_________________________________________
The Cast
​

"A pleasure to be here, Halifax."

"We're lucky to host you today, I'm assuming recent events have really given you a lot of material for your writing. Have you been busy?"

"Oh- well, yes and no, actually."

"Really? Why the no?"

"Well, it's interesting -- a lot of my work is about the relationship between more democratic galactic states like the Alliance, and their relation to imperialism. The ways that that relationship plays out has historically taken a couple of forms. We could point to the original Galactic Empire, that had its apotheosis in the Clone Wars and the machinations of Darth Sidious, but his schemes were built on a foundation of hundreds of years of the Old Republic's colonial interests across the galaxy. He had allies who supported the idea of Empire well before it was named such."

"You talk about this in your book, a fair bit -- but I think you also made the point that the Alliance's problems have been different."

"Oh, absolutely. The Old Republic's history had been a pretty long one, thousands of years fighting regimes much worse than them, so the political culture, while having some of those colonial-imperial features, generally disdained those ideals publicly. But we have to remember the Alliance started- and you and I are old enough to literally remember this- as a coalition. Corellian Confederation, Grayson Imperium -- it was a nascent power in the Core with tenuous military strength. Technically the last power to have any broad control in the Core was the Core Imperial Confederation. So you're looking at hundreds of worlds that have very recent history being under Imperial control, and you're the new kid on the block, so what do you do?"

"Compromise?"

"You compromise. And that's the root of the Alliance. You remember reporting on the early Senate, you had half a dozen Imperial hardliners who regularly pushed higher military spending and protections for their own worlds and military forces. And these aren't sympathizers, they're former moffs or admirals. Sularen at Byss, or the Kuat Crisis -- even before the New Imperials were organized, you had Imperials within the Alliance, pushing that angle relentlessly."

"Byss and Kuat, though, aren't those examples of a rejection of imperialism? The Alliance using its power to shut down Imperial power in the Core?"

"Somewhat. But- at Kuat, after the dust had settled, who was in control?"

"Arage Bao."

"That's right. Queen of Kuat, Lord-Admiral of Humbarine -- and she's been kicking since before the Alliance came together. So you've got Humbarine, the Reach, this pretty significant military apparatus under centralized control, and the Alliance is barely producing their own ships by this point. The Corellians briefly challenged Bao, but that didn't go anywhere. So you don't touch her. You leave her be. And Bao's always been an imperial sympathizer, but has been the lesser of two evils essentially, because the moment the Alliance starts a war in the Core, everything falls apart."

"And now Bao, Humbarine, Kuat -- all working for the Empire."

"Exactly right. The Old Republic had the slowing factor of a thousand years of precedent, but the Alliance started with a stone in its boot, and now we're stumbling."

"Do you think it could have gone differently, or was this inevitable? Should the Alliance not have compromised its ideals?"

"Ooh, tough one, Halifax. Yes, I do think things could have gone differently, of course. It could have been worse. Our slowing factor, I think, was never having a real authoritarian in the Chancellor's office. Tithe was as close as we got, but a corporatist doesn't believe in anything but credits. He was sympathetic only insofar as he could make more money, and I think that's true even now, but the Imperials can never fully trust him because he's not a true believer. Tagge, Chandra, Denko-Durren, and now Organa, all of them in one way or another rejected the Imperials, but toed the line with people like Bao. Each of them could have moved the needle further, set this invasion back a couple of years, but a lot of it does come down to the root of the Alliance. If the Alliance doesn't compromise, it doesn't come into being -- so there'd be no saving the Alliance, unless it was an entirely different kind."

"It seems like you've thought about this a lot, but you said earlier the Empire's rise hasn't been as good for your writing. Seems like that might not be true."

"I was writing about all this before the Empire's arrival. I warned that we were still at pretty significant risk of Imperial control of the Core, but I didn't know what flavour it'd take. I mentioned the Grayson Imperium before -- we could have been having something like that, some reflection of the Lightsworn in a different capacity, and maybe we'd prefer that, even if it wasn't democracy. But even that, I think, would be the same -- because Imperialism always is. Solipsis' Empire isn't anything new. The fundamental structure, the hierarchy, him and his cronies at the top, us at the bottom, that structure doesn't change. You get some new people at the top, instead of Mawite cultists it's moffs and such. You get some new people on the bottom, but it's an "us" and "them" and a couple shades between. But it's always the same. That's why Bao and all the other Imperials -- you know, even many former New Imperials, some of the same ones who fought Solipsis at Coruscant, Csilla, Tython -- fell in line immediately. Maybe it's not exactly how they'd like it, with them and their favourite people on top, but they understand the structure and understand that they're not the "them" in this case. So yes, new context for my writing, sure. But this is just a reflection of what's come before."

"I'm getting that you think it's more of an aesthetic difference, then."

"Yes, I'd say so, though even that's built on callbacks to old Imperial symbolism."

"Anything you've noticed about the Empire's rhetoric or messaging that sticks out to you?"

"If anything, it's how professional and focused they are. I don't know if you caught the Grand Vizier's speech on the day of the invasion, but they've really narrowed down who the "them" is -- she specifically pointed to Jedi as the ones who are "oppressing" the masses, as a kind of shadowy cabal behind Alliance politics, taking normal people's hard work and squandering it. It can be a tough sell, given the years of heroics the New Jedi Order has put out, but more recent stagnation, plus the apparent fleeing of many of the New Jedi in our time of need -- and I think, more importantly, the fact that the vast, vast majority of people will never see or know a Jedi -- it lets people detach from it, say sure, my life kinda sucked, so I'll blame these people and hope things get better. It's very classic; you see the messaging about prosperity, freedom, and it's the exact type of stuff you can find Alliance politicians using, but with the added bit that there's someone making things this way, and the Empire is promising to destroy those people. The aesthetics of politics, change, while in reality corporate power is being more entrenched and civic political power is being erased. Regular citizens will be worse off everywhere. It's very effective, very insidious, but -- well, Imperials aren't known for being original. We just need to pay attention."

"Well said. Kerla, I think that's our time. Thanks for coming on the show."

"It's been an honour."

"Our next guest..."

 

[Damien Dooku]

CORUSCANTI NIGHTS

The rain cascading down from the skies rolled over him like a pebble down a mountain of loose rocks and boulders. The pair were on the move by then, and his attention had been focused on mapping out the coordinates to the location the two were headed. The job was simple enough. So simple in fact that Damien had suggested some of his contacts on-world to take it in his place at first, But Halsia wouldn't relent on the issue until he agreed to take it up himself.

The scoundrel tapped a finger against his jacket pocket, flicking a cigarette halfway out of it before grabbing it up and slipping it between his lips. He locked in the coordinates on his holowatch, the device confirming their heading with the audible effect of a lightsaber ignition sound. His gait came to a halt, the flame of a match meeting the tip of the cigarette lingering at his lips. He inhaled deeply through the first drag, closing his eyes just long enough to soak the smoke into his lungs, and the city into his mind.
​

“How well you know this girl?”​

He tilted his eyes across to Davik, reaching for the cigarette to let it idle lazily between two fingers at his side. "Well enough." He replied automatically, his tone neutral enough to not give his partner any credence to make assumptions about their relationship. He transferred the coordinates over to Davik's holodevice after another drag of his cigarette, giving the wayfinder the same heading that he'd locked into his own device.

"I trust her, Davik. That's all that matters." Damien continued walking, putting an end to the conversation around Halsia in particular for now. He wasn't in the habit of burning the short list of people he called his friends. Regardless, they weren't here for Halsia, as far their job was concerned. "Job's simple enough; we run security when we get there, then we extract the old man to a safehouse-- off-the-grid."

Black Sun had dampened his list of associates who were still willing to work with him, but their influence within Coruscant's underworld was not strong enough to burn the ties he had to his old stomping ground. "In any case-- the old man's got balls. Hijacking an Imperial holosignal when the bastards just got finished takin' over the Core?" A drawn out whistle exited his lips, followed by his cigarette returning between them.

"Take's balls of durasteel, i'll tell ya that."

Damien let out a chuckle, amber orbs drifting across the city as they traversed down the mega-scaled boulevard.
​

"...Or a death wish." ​

Halsia Hewitt Davik Haize Morrow Lydia Vandron Capris Halcyon Kyric Sol Dara


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