Star Wars: Alderaan Refugees

Chapter 1: A Normal Day at Work

Ten years ago, Alderaan was destroyed in an instant by a powerful superlaser aboard a battle station known as the Death Star. This weapon had millions of casualties connected directly to it, including the honor of the remaining Royal Guards of the Alderaan royal family. Those who survived were forced to move on.
These men could be divided into two categories: The Vengeful and the Cowards. The Vengeful became the name of a Rebel cell that acted as Guerilla Warfare experts, using their light armor and weaponry to be highly mobile strike forces that attacked easy targets. These attacks proved to be integral to the destruction of the Empire after the defeat of the Emperor at Endor.
The Cowards were those that disappeared, made new lives for themselves. Some became pirates, or joined the Stormtroopers. Others disappeared, became farmers or smugglers, any job that would let them disappear into the galaxy at large and be forgotten entirely. Ret Dornas and Ben Fortal were among those very cowards. Ten years after the destruction of the Death Star II, these men were doing what they could with the resources available. Part of a PMC force known as Rancor Company, a force of irregulars who were based on a Venator Class Star Destroyer that had been severely retrofitted, the two had trained well and came to find a place among the strange assortment of soldiers for hire. They still bore the colors of the Royal Guard, but they now wore armor, carried better weapons, and were better equipped for the forces they faced. Today, those forces were Imperial.

the Imperial garrison on this base was small compared to most. A total of 30perial personnel, an AT-ST, a couple TIE Fighters, and six Stormtroopers made for a lackluster army. that was how Ret liked it. His transport hid behind the hills as it made the approach on the base, and Ben tightened his grip on the handle of the mounted Repeater. It had enough power to chew through anything weaker than Beskar, and he had used it before. It would do the job.
"Nervous?" Ben heard Ret's voice on the intercom, clear and crisp. After all these years, Ret hadn't changed much. He was still a hero at heart. Maybe he should have joined the Rebellion, but Ben was glad his younger counterpart hadn't. The two made a good team
"Always." It was his only response. Scared? Nervous? Worried? Always. A soldier should always be nervous and scared, it kept them on their toes. It shouldn't interfere with the work, of course, but being careful was the only way to deal with fear and anxiety. Act quickly and efficiently, but be careful. "Do we have a green light?"
"Yeah. Ground team's practically kissing the Empire's walls."
"I'm prepared. Fly us in."
The transport sped above the hills, and even with the rushing wind, the sound of TIES was impossible to miss. They screeched past, the flash of green light warning them away. Ret turned sharply, then pointed upwards. Within seconds, yellow laserfire blew both fighters out of the sky, and they continued their flight to their target.
The Imperial Base was about as prepared for this attack as Alderaan's own people were for the boarding of their ship by Vader. That is, not at all. Their walker lumbered into view, and Ben shot off a leg before moving onto the ground units on the base's exterior. It was some of the most brutal warfare he'd participated in. Men were ripped apart at the waist by laser fire, mangled, smoking messes left in the wake of the transport's side weapon as Ret maneuvered for better shots. In the course of two minutes, the total resistance to Rancor Company's forces should only consist of four men holed up inside of the base. The transport landed inside of the base, and Ben stepped out and ran to the gate. It opened, and a good half-dozen men wearing Clone armor stepped in.

Ben and Ret stood guard outside, prepared to make off with the package. They were on guard, as always, but there really wasn't a point. Rancor Company had essentially won. The Rebellion had won. Hell, there was hardly an Empire left in the galaxy. What was left was a smoldering pile of rubble, death and destruction everywhere. Dead men surrounded them, and it was impossible to avoid. Bodies could be seen, the sizzling could be heard, and worst of all, the smell of the seared flesh. Ben didn't vomit. He was used to the smell, but it was a grim reminder of what war was. It was unfortunate he knew nothing else.
"Why are we here?" Ret spoke up suddenly, dropping his guard as he looked around the havoc they had wrought upon this little base. "Why are we here, on this planet, at this base?"
"Because we're paid to kill. Today we were paid to kill these men."
Silence. One beat. Two beats. Two more beats. Four more. A man groaning. A single blaster shot. Ret's voice again.
"But why are we here?" Ret Dornas was many things, but quiet was rarely one of them. He liked grenades. He flew the fastest ships they had. He got into fights with senior staff, and they turned into shouting matches. He was never quiet, except now. It was this moment, a moment that every mission had, where Ret was quiet when he spoke. "Do you think there's a purpose?"
"Like what, The Force? Hell no." Ben scoffed, sneering at the word "Force". He wasn't a believer, and so far, his companion had also been skeptical. "Boss wanted us on this mission because we're a good team. Nobody flies as well as you, and nobody but me's ever hit anything with your flying. We'll get the package, then be off to The Rotted Fang."
There was silence again. Then the wind picked up. When it died down, Ret spoke up again.
"What is the package."
"I don't know, I don't ask questions, it usually gets me reprimanded."
Ret was about to reply when a voice sounded on their comms. "We've secured the package. Warm up the engines. We're out in five." That was their cue to board the transport again. Ret was back in the pilot's seat in no time, and as always, Ben was on the gun. The six Mercs came out with a companion, a woman with black hair and pale skin. She struggled, and Ben saw her eyes as well. Yellow. He felt a chill of fear run down his spine, and he gripped the handle of the Repeater tightly once more. The woman whipped her leg out and kicked with incredible power, sending one of the men stumbling down. Then the butt of a rifle slammed into the back of her head, and she fell down, silent as she was dragged aboard the transport, along with the rest of the men. They took off, Ben's gun slid back in, and the doors closed. They flew off the planet, and their success was radioed in.
Even asleep, the woman scared Ben. Every instinct he had screamed at him to flee, that the vacuum of space was safer than being in the same area as this thing. He didn't understand why that strange creatures sitting in a cage next to her was there, but it didn't leave him any calmer than before.
"Hey, don't worry." The captain of the squad they'd supported spoke up, a soothing woman's voice. She pulled off her helm, and the reassuring smile that she was so well known for was there, as always, along with her scars. As always. "We got our target, and we'll get paid."
"Do you know what she is?"
"Something like Vader, I think. Not as strong, but she had a red laser sword. I'm just glad she needed to breathe like anyone else, because gas grenades were a godsend." She laughed, and Ben began to calm down. The usual wind-down sequence. He began cleaning his weapons, then when that was done, inspecting his personal gear before finishing his routine by looking over the ship's repeater. The barrels were receiving some wear and tear. They'd need to be filed and polished. Things for another time. For now, they were alive, had a purpose, were free of the New Republic and Empire, and that was more than most could say in the galaxy. Not many could say that.