Niche Taveism

[Krasnaya Xue]

Krasni Gorod looked as fine as ever, the expansion work of the Alliance-backed Selectivist system flowing into the plains and near the bounds of the equally expansive forest. It was not so much a towering construction as it was a practical and abiding one, filling the crannies of nature rather than supplanting it altogether.

Songstress was the name. That Holonet tower that had proved of undeniable importance over the course of wars still stood, though naturally not in its original incarnation. Still, it was an established landmark and strategic resource the Rebels had taken full advantage of in their time on Praesitlyn, and they were not about to lose it to the so-called 'militant lightsiders'--ostensibly noble in name yet expansionist in game.

The facts were that the Rebellion had possessed this base of operations for nearly a decade now, and there was little that could be environmentally changed about the culture impressed in the hills by their presence. The local people had been accepting of them to a high degree, and more loyal people had trickled in as the main colony expanded into what could veritably be considered a city at this point. Progress was what Tave had promised, and progress was what Xue saw. Their work could not be undone--or, if it could, it would be done by the evil hand of oppression that the late arrivals insisted they did not induce. Time would tell, of course. Those who remained cynics saw their savior complex as mirroring failed empires before.

And that was why it was important to keep the tower their own. Failsafe detonators were readied at the base should the worst arrive, but for now, it was more of a rewiring for the piggyback, nigh-untraceable RedNet established years back. Whatever occurred, no one would be any the wiser by the time Krasnaya's crews were through. Songstress was theirs as long as she stood.

Still, Krasnie Drives had an alternative cooking.

 

[Krasnaya Xue]

The RedNet had long been a powerful asset for the Rebellion, especially with the arrival of the ECU-1 into just about every officer's possession. Communication; knowledge--those were the most vital currency in warfare. Krasnaya could burn a thousand ships as long as she had information but kept the enemy utterly in the dark. The more she heard, the less she howled. Corporate and Sith blood she desired, and she would wait and let it bubble with a fever until it was time for her to strike the killing blows and watch their wounds wax like syrup.

Though normally discovered in her weathered--but otherwise pristine--uniform, the admiral was not a stranger to dressing in her old habit, uninspiring, white fabrics and a thick gray shawl betraying her history as a child of the clouds and of climates yet more chilled. "Holodno, wind is not normal today," Xue muttered from her perch, peasant garbs and hair fluttering in the sharp breeze. "Make it ready now, yeah?"

Mitczik shivered, bundled up and obviously concerned should the temperature drop below freezing. Mon Calamari were not particularly fond of this weather. Krasnaya found it to pale in comparison to the winter nights on her homeworld--not that she enjoyed this odd Praesitlyn cold, all the same. Little could be done, however. They were testing for the first time outdoors. "Yeah, I hope they hurry up--for your sake, Kras," the old engineer grumbled. "How'd you get me into this, anyway? Just as bad as Gen, just as bad as Gen..."

Xue would take that as a compliment.

 

[Krasnaya Xue]

The heights of Songstress rocking in such oddly fierce wind served up memories of a time before, when a seventeen-year-old Sibakanka had clambered about the barges and bowing tethers about cloud cities so forlorn yet so romanticized. The moments were far from romantic, however, greased hands slipping and groping for the next durasteel-woven tether from hundreds--perhaps thousands--of kilometers above... whatever was below. The mining operations were hardly glamorous. Yet the admiral still realized the majesty of such a world as Bespin, afforded her moments in relative solitude within the wisps of tibanna clouds and pockets of curling oxidized vapors. Something was just familiar about this to her subconscious, and being currently dressed in her civilian garbs that betrayed such an upbringing, it was not too far of a mental leap to take.

"No. No, I'm not like her." Lasedri was never a peasant. She had grown rich--one thing they all knew. It was not to her discredit, though, as she did indeed develop to become a strong woman who realized the merits of a more encompassing wealth of the people and abandoned her privilege for a greater dream. Yet Krasnaya would never be Geneviève. Xue knew life by another vantage point and understood not just the exterior struggle, but the interior struggle of the proletariat community. And it had led to a higher drive for progress in the Red Fleet's admiral.

"Well, maybe it's just the youth," Mitczik remarked, his wide mouth gaping in a gentle grin. "You see, I haven't been young in so long, I guess I don't know what it's like." He was always like that--lighthearted despite how demanding his occupation was.

The comm unit crackled to life a moment later, announcing the testing device's preparation complete. "Red Violet is a-go on your mark, Admiral."

 

[Krasnaya Xue]

The 'lab rats' in Krasni Gorod who were looking towards Songstress might happen to notice that the sun seemed to have scattered itself across the north sky, its smoldering morning orb in the east nearly impossible to discern against the dizzying rays cast from the object of experiment. It was difficult to discern the effects of the artificial beams of spectacular light on the civilians below, though a handful of consolidated crowds began to form, indicating a commotion. The coms lit up, and reports began trickling in from various interns within the city who were here specifically to confirm the operation of the new technology.

As far as Krasnaya was concerned, they had hit gold. "They're blind as bats," Mitczik appraised from all the comm chatter. The super dazzler had so far been a success--although there were still two more facets to it that had yet to be tested. Of course, these other effects could not be tested on people--for moral reasons that only a few would understand, apparently. "Now... Can I get down from here, Kras? My choppers are killing me."

"Yeah, davai." The admiral was broken out of her daydream by Mitczik's plea, and she waved him to go ahead and descend from the Holonet tower. He never really had to be up here with her. He was just stubborn that way. It must come with old age--or perhaps he just liked 'Kras'. He always said she reminded him of 'Gen', so there must have been something important to that relationship that was yet lost on the Sibakanka. The aged engineer knew many things that Krasnaya would have liked to know--both scientific knowledge and whatever had been imparted to him from Lasedri--but expectation and disappointment had often gone hand-in-hand according to Krasnaya's experiences. Not only that, but she felt like a little child when hearing his stories. You just had to be there, she presumed.

"So, yeah, turn it off," Xue commanded via communicator.

"Affirmative."