The Galaxy Turns
Posted on Mon Aug 18th, 2025 @ 9:34pm by Mentis & Kalen "Rex" Vickers
4,400 words; about a 22 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter VII: Uprooted
Location: Recreation Room, Red Raptor
Timeline: Day One, Week One (the week after the death of Mumin Mozo)
The Grand Convocation Chamber appeared on the holoprojection, casting a brilliant light across the dimmed galley of the Red Raptor. Depicted within the chamber was a bustle of journalists, aides, and Senate officials, the air thick with tension and filtered lights, even in this tinny depiction. Supreme Chancellor Octavus Paralles stood at the polished podium beneath the central dome, flanked dutifully by the imposing silhouette of Grand Master Jundal Quellus of the Reborn Jedi Order. Flashing holocams painted the scene in intermittent white bursts as reporters leaned forward within visible view, sensing the weight of what was about to be said.
Paralles adjusted his posture, hands resting on the podium. His smile was calculated, just tight enough to appear calm. His voice, while firm, carried the unmistakable note of strain.
"Fellow citizens of the Third Galactic Republic, members of the press..." he began, his Alderaanian accent polished and practised, "I wish to first affirm that our government holds transparency and integrity as its highest principles. The recent release of alleged documents regarding certain private-sector agreements - agreements, I must emphasise, entered into under previous administrations and in good faith - deserve thorough and impartial review."
He allowed the moment to breathe before continuing, his tone remaining composed. His eyes did not look to read any notes, as he readily resumed his declaration. "It is easy, in times of uncertainty, to cast aspersions without full context. I encourage the public to exercise patience while the Senate initiates an internal inquiry to determine the facts. We remain committed to ensuring that the Republic's alliances and institutions uphold the values we all share: unity, peace, and prosperity."
A sudden flurry of questions erupted from the crowd.
"Chancellor, did Bastion act alone?"
"Will GalactaWerks be sanctioned?"
"Does the Reborn Jedi Order support this inquiry?"
Paralles raised a hand, silencing the rising voices with a single practised gesture.
"We will not engage in speculation or judgment before the full truth is known. To act hastily would serve only those who wish to divide us. We remain 'One Republic'." There was a brief pause as the Chancellor seemed to glance briefly towards something off-camera, the reference to one of his favoured political slogans known even to the least politically-engaged sentients. "Thank you."
Without taking any questions, the Chancellor stepped back. Quellus gave a nod to the crowd - brief, cold, unreadable - before turning to follow Paralles through the side entrance. Senate Guards closed ranks, and the feed cut back to stunned HoloNet anchors, the words 'BREAKING' pulsing in blood-red beneath their faces.
The words became garbled and distorted as the pale, hairless head of Mentis disrupted the projection as he walked through it as he returned to sit with Rex on the far side of the rec room. He held a bowl of dried vegetable chips that he had found in a container in the cupboard and, having ignored the unfamiliar name "Kip" scribbled on the side, decanted out for himself (and possibly for Rex as well).
"You know, I never gave too much mind to galactic politics when I was with the cult," he announced, sitting back down and prising out one of the chips to inspect from the bowl, "Unsurprisingly, some galactic leader pales in comparison to the almighty Axion."
He determined he was safe and tossed the chip in his mouth before offering the bowl towards his couch companion.
"But, we knew about how the galaxy worked: the cult had dealings with the Republic, with GalactaWerks, with everyone," he continued as he waited for the Human to accept his gesture, "If we, or more accurately, Axion wanted something, there was a channel to acquire it."
He thrust his other hand forward, pointing at the still of Paralles that now hovered on the display alongside a summary of the speech, wrenching the bowl slightly outside Rex's reach as he did so, "I mean, who holds a press conference to say practically nothing and basically admit you were played? You don't speak, you just act!"
Rex had moved to take a chip with a soft grunt of vague agreement, only for it to fall between his calloused fingers as Mentis yanked the bowl mid-rant. He gave a faint sigh of defeat and let his hand drop to his lap.
"Nice speech," he muttered, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. He had been mostly reclined, hands clasped casually behind his head to support it, but was now shuffling with more animation after Mentis' mild outburst. "Lot of words for someone not sayin' a thing, huh?" His eyes wandered towards the bowl tightly gripped by his friend, avaricious intent glazing over them - but he soon realised it was a futile endeavour. Surrendering without a fight - they appeared slightly softened from age, anyway - he leaned forward instead, elbows on knees, and turned his attention to the holofeed.
"Every time they get caught," Rex said, clearly thinking himself wise or insightful, "it's the same little dance. The Republic does it, the Company does it... Sithspit, even the Hutts do it, in their own way! Some talk about unity, dismissing any lies, make big about fightin' the good fight. All the same crusty poodoo they wheeled out when the rancors tore my crew apart on Rakele, or that kark back on Onderon way-back-when!"
With that, Rex seemed to realise he was also starting to get a bit too lively. He cleared his throat and let out a long breath. He sat back and stretched his legs out, and began absently scraping at a bit of dried synth-oil beneath his thumbnail. But, the peace was brief. "But, don't you ever notice," he resumed, crossing his arms but wagging a finger at the projection, "that none of these nerf herders ever actually sound scared? Like, really scared? Not really - not even now!" He looked sideways at Mentis. "Because they're not worried they're gonna' lose power - just worried someone different might get it." He waved a hand dismissively. "Whole Republic's like a half-dead lone bantha, anyway. Millin' on through the sands by itself, no idea it's dead already."
Mentis sat back and looked at Rex for a moment, having felt the emotions rising, albeit briefly, in the Human.
"I think a lot of people in this galaxy could do with being a lot more scared," he answered, "When you're scared, you know you're alive and it makes you fight."
He scrunched his face up a little in thought, "Rex, what was that you were saying about those rancor..."
But he did not get to finish the question before the announcement of the ORA's response to the leaked document caused them both to focus again on the HoloNet.
The wind howled behind Davos Stal as he stood atop the weathered balcony. There were no flags and no emblems. A scattering of crests were stitched into his crumpled jacket - symbols of worlds that had suffered long before the galaxy decided to notice. A battered microphone picked up his gravelly, accented voice as he leaned forward.
"I won't waste your time with evasions or rehearsed platitudes," he said. "This 'Bastion Document' is real. Every world under the thumb of GalactaWerks has known the truth in their bones... now you all have it in your hands. We share it in its entirety, across all channels, to all peoples." A silence then followed, and only the shifting breeze punctuated the moment. "For years, the Third Republic turned a blind eye while corporations stripped our homes bare and bled our people dry. Bastion? GalactaWerks? They're symptoms. The rot lies deeper, at the very heart of the Third Republic itself."
Reporters shouted over one another. There were questions about another secession, about Bastion's involvement - but mirroring the politician that had occupied the news just moments before, Administrator Stal raised his hand.
"We did not create these documents, my friends. We are not interested in your palace politics. But, when evidence of betrayal crosses our path, we will not bury it. We will show it to the galaxy, as plainly as the blaster scars still stain and mar our cities. The Outer Rim Alliance will act according to the will of its people. Not the Senate's. Not the Chancellor's. And certainly not GalactaWerks'."
He stepped away from the microphone, his voice dropping to a final, razor-sharp tone and raised a defiant fist before he shouted his conclusion: "Those who profited from our suffering will answer for it! Whether in the courts... or in the fields the Republic scorched and scoured!"
He exited without another word, and the signal faded.
"Anger," Mentis stated, "Anger is another legitimate emotion as well; quite a good motivator like fear, but the results can be a little messier."
Thoughts of Bomoor's recent outburst, and subsequent dismantling, of Tolmin Voq sprung to mind as he spoke.
"You think there's enough anger for another war?" the Rattataki asked, gesturing to where Stal had stood on the display, "I was too young to really remember much of the last one but I can see it in that man's eyes. Well, at least his one eye."
"Folks is always angry enough for another war," Rex grumbled prosaically, who was old enough to remember the war, albeit from the unaligned world of Tatooine, and had been too young to conscript legally.
He had returned to his reclined position, but rather than absent-mindedly examining the dried-up oil beneath his nail, he was intensely and intentionally focused on tackling it, as if the task was helping the situation or his mood. Another moment passed between them, and Mentis could see Rex peering at him from the corner of his eye as he made more of a display at tackling his dirty nail. The Human gave a slightly dramatic shrug.
"You know that as well as me. Some are always itchin' to pull their blasters, and others lookin' to take someone else's stuff, claiming it's theirs, or whatever. Some of them just need an excuse..." Rex now looked a bit more meaningfully at Mentis. "And... And, well... it's your buddies that have given them that excuse. I ain't saying a war weren't coming, but this has got their cells all charged up-" Rex now pointed towards the holofeed, "-and we did that. You, me and the 'Terrible Trinity'."
There was clearly a conflicted tone in Rex's voice. It was now hard to tell if he was angry, sad, confused or even humbled by it all - or perhaps all of them at once - but he was clearly affected by the reality dawning on them, all thought of synth-oil and chips evaporated.
"People are gonna die, Mentis," he continued as he looked to his unlikely friend, slightly more resigned. "Sooner, or differently, sure - however you want to dress it - but we're a part of that." His eyes wandered back to the feed. "A big part of it, I think."
Mentis cast a glance at Rex, initially looking slightly confused at the sudden change in tone, but seemed to soften quickly.
"Did you spend much time weighing up morality when working for the Hutts?" he asked lightly, but with a hint of genuine curiosity, "Surely some of the spice and supplies you ran would lead to suffering and death somewhere down the road? At least war can lead to change, rather than perpetuating a cycle of suffering."
Rex blinked, clearly caught off-guard. He seemed surprised by the new philosophical spin the Rattataki had taken, of the incisiveness of the commentary around politics and ethics. His mouth hung open for half a second before he shook his head with a soft scoff.
"Alright - I’ll give you that," he said, shifting in his seat, arms folding again. "Didn’t expect that kinda sting from you, Mantis." He leaned back again and gave a dry laugh, more dismissive than reflective. "But lemme tell you something, man. I sold weapons, yeah. I ferried spice, ran goods - although I always tried not to ever get into that bone-breaking business. Still, I guess it made plenty suffer - I’m not pretendin’ I didn’t." He then pointed a finger towards Mentis. "But I never sparked a war. I never collapsed a government. I never sold any lies or truths so big that a thousand people’d die before the next sunrise. My work... it was filth - but it was small. Personal. People chose it for themselves. Do you know what I mean?"
The feed crackled and shifted again before Mentis could respond. This time, it did not return to one of the usual anchors or a talking head. Instead, a startled presenter’s voice cut in over a black screen marked only by flickering static.
"Uh... we’re receiving a signal now from... from Bastion,” the anchor stammered slightly, clearly thrown off-script. "Please, standby whilst we-" A few seconds past as some deliberation presumably occurred between the HoloNet executives and workers. Before long, the voice returned. "Yes, confirmation just received - this is an official broadcast from the Bastion Moff Empire. There have been no formal transmissions from Bastion since... Stand by, citizens."
A beat of silence. Then the sigil appeared - rotating, stark, unyielding. Black, white, and red. It filled the screen like a proclamation carved in stone. There were no further introductions.
The black, white and red sigil of Bastion rotated slowly before giving way to the stark marble interior of a Bastionite hall. Two stormtroopers, polished, perfect armour gleaming, stood like white statues on either side of the central dais. Between them, a tall woman in charcoal-grey uniform stepped forward. Her blonde hair was knotted tight, her eyes glinting like cold durasteel.
"This is a transmission from the Bastion Moff Empire, as per directive of the most-esteemed Council of Moffs," she began, her voice unhurried and unequivocal. "The documents disseminated by various sources across the wider galaxy - collectively referred to as the 'Bastion Document' - are authentic." There was no hesitation. No blinking. "The truths contained within were not engineered to cause the Third Republic harm, nor to destabilise the galactic order. They were entrusted to responsible actors in the belief that the galaxy deserves knowledge - not deception."
She clasped her hands behind her back, her posture controlled but charged with intent. She raised her sharp chin and continued. "Bastion holds no ill will toward the Republic, its people, or its worlds. We seek only justice where corruption festers, and accountability where tyranny masquerades as law." The soldiers flanking her shifted subtly, their ceremonial rifles clinking in the echoing space. "We shall issue no further statements at this time."
She looked directly into the holocam lens, eyes like a knife’s edge - and the feed cut quite suddenly, leaving the galaxy gripped in a new, unfamiliar silence. Whilst the crew of the Raptor had obviously been embedded within their society most recently, this was the first time in generations that Bastion had formally spoken. And, with that declaration, the old balance had tipped.
The holofeed snapped off with an abrupt flicker, leaving only the faint hum of the Red Raptor’s systems and the far-off clink of cooling metal. Rex let out a slow breath through his nose and leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. His eyes lingered on the now-empty projector, the Bastion sigil probably burned into his mind like a brand.
"Well..." he muttered, fingers scratching at some chin stubble as he looked at Mentis pointedly, "guess that krayt dragon’s comin' down from the Folly about now."
Mentis' gaze held on the oddly vacant HoloNet news feed before him. He had heard Rex and the memory of that old Tatooine legend struck harder in light of the Forces massing around the galaxy.
"Quite," Mentis answered plainly, sitting back in the seat but not quite as relaxed as before, "Something big is coming, isn't it? Whether or not that dragon is bested, there's no guarantee we're not going to be swallowed up along the way."
The Rattataki looked over at his companion again, "I suppose I still find it hard to see any greater power or any more-significant threat than Axion. There was a time I thought he was a god. Kind of makes it hard to see other evil in the galaxy and..."
He looked away, staring at the crumbs on the metallic floor, "And I don't see what you do as evil. You're just trying to live in a galaxy of chaos. I want to do the same."
Rex scratched at his jaw again, but slower this time. Less like a nervous tic, more like he was buying time.
Mentis' words had landed. Not with force, but with weight. That quiet kind—the kind that did not shove, but settled, sinking into the bones before you realised.
Rex exhaled through his nose and shifted, boots scraping against the floor as he turned to face the Rattataki properly.
“Yeah,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “Galaxy of chaos. That’s what it’s always been, huh? Just... waves crashin’ and we’re all tryin’ not to drown.” He paused, fingers lacing together loosely in his lap. "You know,” he went on, “I used to tell myself I was just good at runnin’. That I got out when others got stuck. Rakele, Tatooine, Nal Hutta… Always had an excuse to duck the worst of it. Ship blew up, gang turned, contact ghosted me—always some karkin’ reason I didn’t stick around.” He gave a short, humourless chuckle. "But really? I think I just... didn’t want to be too close to it. To, well, to the 'right' people. You stay in motion, you ain't gotta deal with what’s burnin’ behind you. You ain't gotta pick a side.”
Rex looked at Mentis now. Not sidelong. Properly.
“And then I met you lot. You. Bomoor. Amare. Even... Thane.” His lip twitched at the name. “And suddenly... I ain’t runnin’ anymore. Now I’m on a ship with damn lightsabers under the floorboards and a galactic civil war overhead, and... and you’re talkin’ about gods and evil and—karking *hells*, Mantis, when did we get this deep?”
He shook his head, but there was a smile there. Worn and crooked, but genuine.
“I’m not a philosopher,” he added. “Barely scraped through the trade laws test in the marines... But I know this—what you said just now? That... that meant something. You don’t talk like someone who used to worship a monster.” He tapped a knuckle gently against Mentis’ arm, almost joking, almost not. “You talk like someone who wants to get out of the cave. Like you’ve seen the shadows, and you’re tryin’ to find the fire... And if you’re serious about just tryin’ to live... then maybe we can keep each other from gettin’ swallowed up?”
Rex’s gaze dropped to the crumbs on the floor, and a few seconds of silence passed between them, only the faint glow of the holofeed casting eerie illumination over them both.
“You’re not evil either,” the smuggler finally said, more softly this time. “You’ve got more kindness in you than half the righteous folk I’ve met. You just... didn’t start on the right road. Neither did I, but not like you." He leaned back again, the seat creaking beneath him. "We ain’t what we were. That counts for somethin’, doesn’t it?”
Mentis studied the smuggler’s face, his dark skin and curly sideburns hid an assortment of small scars and laser burns that he had not really noticed until now. Not even on those quiet evenings of storytelling on the Janna.
“I’m…I’m not sure it matters, you know?” He began hesitantly; his rougher, casual accent slipping in, “I didn’t ever think of myself as evil before, even at my darkest moments, and I don’t really feel good now I am away from it. I just know how I feel about stuff. About people.”
There was a silence as the voices on the HoloNet slipped into the background but they were suddenly brought back into focus as a familiar and attention-grabbing jingle triggered something within everyone in earshot.
The galactically familiar logo of GalactaWerks pulsed gently on-screen before fading into a high-rise boardroom. A neatly-dressed Human in an intendent's uniform sat composed, his greying temples immaculate, his posture picture-perfect. Behind him, the transparent viewport looked out over a pristine skyline engineered for beauty. The spokesperson was perhaps chosen as a clear visual representation of the company, familiar even to those in far-flung sectors.
"GalactaWerks is aware of the recent allegations and documents made public through unofficial sources," he said, folding his hands. His voice was warm, the rehearsed cadence of a man who had given a thousand briefings before. "We categorically deny any wrongdoing in our operations across Republic, Outer Rim territories, or anywhere in our galaxy. The GalactaWerks Corporation remains committed to the highest ethical standards in commerce, infrastructure development, and public welfare." An intentional pause. "We caution the galactic public against accepting information from hostile actors without proper verification. Sensationalism and half-truths serve only to divide us at a time when unity is paramount."
The intendent smiled - measured, empathetic, but devoid of sincerity to any with passing emotional intelligence. "Our legal teams are reviewing the material in question, and we will fully cooperate with all legitimate inquiries, as we always have. GalactaWerks looks forward to continuing our proud service to the galaxy’s future."
The screen shifted to display the Company’s motto in bold Aurebesh lettering:
GalactaWerks: Building Your Future
The corporate theme music swelled, and the broadcast ended.
Suddenly back in his sterner voice, Mentis exhaled sharply through his nose, "Well, I know how I feel about those people now. Their right hand making excuses while their left makes deals with the cult and shatters the lives of millions of people. People like Bomoor."
Rex gave a dry snort. “Yeah… I know what I feel too. Seen plenty of liars, Mantis, but these ones-" he jerked a thumb at the now-blank feed, “-they don’t even blink while they do it. Guess it’s easier when you’ve got your head so deep in the credits you can’t hear the screaming anymore.”
He shifted, boots scraping against the deck, and for a moment his eyes lingered on the Rattataki’s profile - long enough to catch himself doing it. Clearing his throat, he leaned back, stretching an arm lazily along the top of the couch as if it were all just another passing thought.
“Thing is,” he went on, quieter now, the tone somewhere between resignation and realisation, “we’re already in it. Whether we asked for it or not. Only choice we’ve got is whether we’re gonna' be the kind of folk who look the other way… or the kind who do somethin’ about it.” He gave a half-smile - crooked, almost conspiratorial. “And between you an’ me? I think we’re already past the lookin’-away stage.”
"Yeah..." Mentis trailed off, his mis-matched eyes catching the colours of the holoprojection as he gazed, trance-like into the lights.
For a moment, Rex did not get any further response before Mentis inhaled sharply and leaned over to the table controls and shut down the feed.
"You know, with all those announcements, I was almost expecting to see Axion appearing next," he let his breath out again as he sat back in his seat, his voice suddenly quite frustrated, "But I guess he doesn't need to, eh?"
The Rattataki tapped the side of his head aggressively, "He's already playing his speech up here."
He shuffled uncomfortably before turning towards the Human again, now sadder, "Sorry, I know there's so much more happening and you're tired of hearing it, but I'm not going to be much use to the galaxy while he's still in there."
Rex did not answer right away. He stayed quiet longer this time, his eyes fixed on the holoprojector’s now-dormant surface, the final image of the Company logo still ghosting across his thoughts. The silence that followed the broadcast was not empty. It was loud in a different way - that oft thrown about notion of the calm before a storm.
He looked at Mentis again. He seemed to see the pain and the weight there in that moment, the past clawing just beneath the surface. It seemed as if something inside him shifted.
"I know I said this fight wasn’t mine," he began, voice low but firm, after a few more less comfortable moments of silence in the dark. "Said I just wanted out, back to where I was before. Get my ship back, me and Reave blazing the trade routes."
He took a breath and stood up. He leaned forward, arms folding, but his tone sharpened.
"But these whacko cult bastards - they took too much. From you. From others. Maybe even from me, or will, before long. If we have a chance to bring them down, then... Well... Count me in. For real." He shook his head slightly, almost amused or alarmed by himself. "Never thought I would hear myself say that, you know. Guess my name's Osric now, too."
He gave Mentis a crooked grin - nothing heroic, nothing grand. Just something that said he meant it. He turned towards the kitchenette and started dragging out pots and pans.
"C'mon, Mantis. Let me cook you some real food, huh? Fatten you up for the harvest."
The former cultist seemed to emerge from his introspective stupor and looked deep into Rex smirking face. His shoulders relaxed and something innate made him slowly mirror the expression on his friend's face.
"Sure," he allowed himself a light chuckle, "I could still eat. What's your specialty?"
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