Rebel Squadrons

The Fwatna Dilemma - Operation: Fabulous Lommax

By RA Lamin Zykara
Unit: The Rebel Squadrons
Narrative, Jun 02, 2014
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50:02:03 - Rebel Squadrons Command Dome, Blerthmore
Approximately 15 years after the Battle of Yavin

"And they told you about the ceremonial headdress, right?" Commodore Kirghy Lommax looked dubiously over the desk of the recently appointed Rebel Squadrons Fleet Commander, Commodore Lamin Zykara. "Yes.", Zykara responded, his tone flat and unenthusiastic. "It was included in the invitation packet, and I familiarized myself with the particular customs of the Fwatna System during my time as Minister of External Affairs..."

Just after RS victories in the second Outer Rim War, Fleet Admiral Rahj Tharen, the sitting Fleet Commander, agreed to a treaty with the inhabitants of the Fwatna System in RS space. Near-human, and primitive compared to the technology and assets that Task Force Republic Shield possessed at the time, the treaty was of significant importance because of several resource-rich planets in the Fwatna System, with rich veins of materials suited well to keep the RS's war machine up and running at a critical time.

Of course, access to those materials didn't come without strings. The Fwatnaese, for the better part of the last decade, have referred to the sitting RS Fleet Commander as their "Skyfather", and once per year, invite the Skyfather or his chosen representative to a feast on Fwatna III, their capital and homeworld. Traditionally, it has been reported that the food is pungent, heavily spiced and capable of causing 'severe gastric distress' as diagnosed by RS fleet surgeons. In addition, the Fwatnaese sent an elaborate ceremonial coiffure that the Skyfather wears to denote his status as protector and almost deity of the Fwanaese peoples. Passed down from RSFC to RSFC, along with notes about attendance at the event, The Feast of the Skyfather is widely regarded to be the FC's worst duty, after balancing the budget and of course, meetings of the Rebel Squadrons High Command. During the second term of Fleet Admiral Dave Trebonious-Astoris, an attempt was made by both Dave and his XO, Fleet Admiral Michael Raven, to get out of attending the Feast - only through some silver-tongued apologies for miscommunication by the Minister of External Affairs was the Fwatnaese relationship salvaged. In the end, Dave attended the Feast, and for two days afterwards, had to make all official decisions from the porcelain command chair.

Lamin shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've never been?" Kirghy shook his head, ruefully. "No, Sconn went when he sat in The Big Chair. Claimed he had such a good time that he volunteered to go again when I was FC. In fact..." Kirghy pointed at an irregular stain on the Fwatnaese Ceremonial Headdress. "I'm pretty sure that's dried vomit from his last visit. Almost enough to clone him from." Lamin sighed heavily. "Don't even joke about that. The last thing I need right now is two or three Sconns running around on the southern flank, imagining threats and micromanaging local jurisdictions..."

As if on cue, an aide-de-camp knocked on the doorframe of Lamin's office. "Sir? We've just got a priority, eyes-only report from Admiral Sconn, transmitting from somewhere near the Minos Cluster. He seems to be concerned about...uh...pirates, sir." Lamin and Kirghy exchanged a knowing glance. Lamin stood up from his desk with a resigned sigh, leaning over it and bracing himself with his hands, arms extended. "I probably need to deal with this, and you need to get ready for the Feast of the Skyfather." "...excuse me?", Kirghy replied, his tone incredulous.

Lamin shook his head, shrugging somewhat helplessly. "You, formal dress uniform, Fwatana Sector, 1600 tomorrow. I need time to deal with Sconn's paranoia, continue reorganization efforts and work on a new set of simulator parameters for Lieutenant Colonel Dogan. You need to show up, on time, choke down some Fwatnaese food, and smile politely while you do it." Kirghy blinked at Lamin, somewhat unsure how to respond, his jaw working silently. "Consider this retribution for sticking me with the Ministry of External Affairs before." Kirghy looked at him with a hurt expression, and Lamin relented somewhat.

"I'll put you up for a New Republic Medal of Honor...", Lamin continued, turning a wry smile at his longtime friend and ally. Kirghy quirked an eyebrow and finally found his voice. "If you mean full dress uniform, you'd better.", he responded somewhat sarcastically. "Full dress.", Lamin confirmed. "Sash, medals, rank insignia, the works. To be clear, your orders, Commodore Lommax, are to try not to come down with food poisoning, and to look fabulous while doing it. Understood?" Kirghy stood to leave, tossing Lamin a mock salute. "Yes, your FC-ness." As Kirghy turned to leave, Lamin picked up the Fwatnaese Ceremonial Headdress and held it out over his desk. "Oh, and Kirghy? Don't forget your hat.", the Fleet Commander chuckled as he turned his attention back to the stack of data cards on his desk.


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