Lieutenant Ashsca Screold
I had always placed my faith in Captain Tullius. From the moment he picked me to be on his bridge - and eventually to command it in his absence - I had followed the man without question. How could I not? Despite the mild manner he presented, or those moments of flighty panic, there was a man of unflappable brilliance. He was not needlessly cruel, even in the face of the betrayal of the Bakurans after we saved their world. There was a soft handedness to how he dealt with civilians that was rare in a man of his standing, something I had sought to emulate. The bloodlust that seemed to simmer under the surface often coalesced in competence, or so I thought.
It was difficult to accept that reality in the face of N'zoth. The situation was trying; every hour we spent in that system ran the risk of our total destruction. However, I struggled in linking the Tullius I followed and the Tullius that allowed a Star Dreadnought to ram a populated planet. Even if Tullius did not give the order, his complete lack of care was a reminder of what divided us. I had been born and raised on the Core belief that Outer Rim natives were savages, prone to cruelty. Even Eriadu (despite how hard it tried to pretend to be otherwise) was prone to a degree of aggression and violence that could not be found in the Core. Tullius, with his silly accent and mild mannerisms, had seemed as far from that as possible.
But it was more than that. Tullius was trained in the ORSF and made a Captain in Arrowhead Command - it required a degree of aggression to be a member of either. The destruction of the Intimidator, the capture of the Armadia, but the most damning of all? The Conqueror's final charge. I was not opposed to ramming maneuvers, we had the mass for it. Tullius's charge against the Yevethan Star Destroyer was another matter entirely. I had labored under the delusion that Tullius cared for his crew, yet when faced with the destruction of his ship he lashed out like a wild animal. There was no consideration in his actions beyond taking down one more Yevethan ship, not even to issue the order to abandon ship to his crew. Tullius cared only to spite the Yevethans and it shook my beliefs to my core.
I had been young when Tullius singled me out, I was young now. Surrounded by veterans of a dozen conflicts before, I had to fight to make my mark. I believed I understood Tullius, but N'zoth made it clear there was a side of Tullius I scarcely understood.
The datapad in my hands felt as if it were made from solid durasteel, heavy on my arms as it was on the soul. Casualty estimates for the destroyed sections of the Conqueror, exact numbers wouldn't be certain until we made port. How many had died in the ramming maneuver, unaware that their Captain had consigned them to death in his haste to get one more kill?
I looked up from the datapad to the hull of the Conqueror, the mauled remains of the only ship I had ever served on.
Shamefully, at that moment, I hated Tullius. I hated the lack of care he showed when it was our lives on the line. I hated the maddened aggression so many in Arrowhead Command subscribed to like scripture.
I glanced back through the open blast doors to the command section. Tullius stood, like a rock amidst a storm, before his holotable. He was speaking - to whom I did not know - but as always he appeared unbothered. Part of me wanted to storm over and thrust this datapad in his face to get some reaction, to see if the lives lost weighed on him.
I held off. That same part of me didn't want to know.
Flight Commander Cienna Ree
Lt. Marie LeBlanche, Status: KIA
So went the last original member of Crimson Squadron. This was not the first loss I had sustained in my career as a Commander, but this one felt final. Crimson Squadron had been run ragged, yet by some miracle Marie had survived through it all right alongside me. I had gone from the newcomer to the most senior member in a few short weeks, a sobering reality of the Imperial starfighter doctrine. Against a superior or equal foe, we were expected to sacrifice ourselves valiantly. To be replaced with a revolving door of new faces and names. It was a reality I had spent my career accepting, yet never had my losses been so severe - made all the worse with their lack of replacements. The 2nd had no more reinforcements to give.
I opened Marie's locker, finding her personal effects inside. Datapads, half-finished reports and sweets wrappers littered whatever space wasn't taken up by her uniform and remaining flight suit. Unfortunately, Marie's body was unrecoverable - her TIE had crashed into the Conqueror after sustaining damage so this was all that remained of the woman.
I pulled free the uniform and suit, tossing them back on the bench behind me before sifting through the collected items. Imperial property remained behind, service staff would clear and clean the locker later. I was searching for any personal items that would need to be sent home, wherever home was for Marie.
In the end, I knew nothing about the woman. I regretted that: not taking the time to get to know her. It was a train of thought that warred with the mentality we were trained with: viewing our fellow pilots as individuals rather than one part of the whole.
Marie had not left much: a hair pin, a locket with a broken chain and her personal datapad - locked by a fingerprint scan. I tucked them under my arm and closed the locker. I gathered up the remaining uniform and suit, dropping them into the laundry disposal before leaving the locker room. The squadron's ready room was empty, same as the locker. By some miracle, we had survived the final engagement at N'zoth with only two casualties - Marie and Udina. The rest were off celebrating or resting, few knew the lost members personally and the last few weeks had acclimatized them to casualties.
That, and half of the TIE Fighters were inoperable.
I took a tram to the primary docking bay after dropping Marie's things off at my quarters. With the launching bay still open to the void, I had to navigate Maab's kingdom of garbage to find the hangar officer.
The cavernous room seemed even more full, as TIE racks had been moved from the secondary bay down here so that crew members could actually work on them. Haphazard stacks had grown in height just to make room.
I found my quarry nearby, arms crossed as he watched the work on the TIEs above. Another officer was quietly reading a report to him, though fell silent at my approach.
"Commander." The man greeted, glancing my way before gesturing to the racks: "Here about your TIEs, I take it?"
I stop next to him, turning an experienced eye up at the fighters. I was more familiar with them from inside the cockpit, but any fighter jockey worth her wings knew what damage to look out for on her TIE. Carbon burns covered the engines of most, visible only with the glimmer on their burnt hulls. The struts connecting the wing to cockpit were bent, some severely, as a sign of the hairpin turns their pilots forced them through. To say nothing of the fighters that took damage - holes shot through wings or singed cockpits.
"That one won't fly again." The man said without preamble, pointing at a particularly damaged TIE; "Not without a completely new right wing - which we don't have. If we cannibalize her for parts, we might get those two to some level of operability. Though that one fried her alternator, so it's only a matter of when not if the generator for her cannon gives out."
None of this was to say that our remaining fighters were at full combat readiness.
"TIEs weren't meant to run like this." I grumbled, earning a huff from the man.
"You're telling me? TIE Fighters are fragile and temperamental. They're meant to run hard, fast and for short periods - not through months long campaigning. Not without regular maintenance. If Tullius wanted to go on a crusade through the Outer Rim then maybe he should have brought some 170s or 95s."
ARC-170s and Z-95 Headhunters. Yeah, those would be nice.
For years my superiors had gone on and on about the superiority of the TIE Fighter. How its lack of shields meant it was faster and more agile than anything in the galaxy. What was the need for shields when you could just avoid damage?
They never tell you how exhausting it was to fight like that. Constantly, for days on end without rest, flying a fighter that seemed dead-set on tearing itself apart at any second. In the end, those teachers had drunk well from the Sienar teet. If the concept was so perfect, they would never have greenlit the Avenger or Defender projects.
"Yeah, I'll be sure to mention that to the Captain during our next tea time." I said, ensuring there was some levity mixed with the sarcasm in my tone.
"Would you? I'd love some V-Wings to work on - or maybe some SoroSuub fighters? Don't know how a bunch of aliens figured out a good starfighter design before Sienar."
The man continued to grumble to himself, so I left him to it. However as I left, I found myself agreeing with him. The TIE line were not bad fighters, but they were limited. In the Core and Inner Rim, where supply depots and replacement bodies were a fifteen minute jump away? No problem. A Star Destroyer regularly patrolling the borderland of Hutt Space though needed a fighter that could survive without constant replacements for weeks or months on end. It took Sienar countless billions of credits and manhours to figure out strapping a shield generator to a TIE chassis, it would likely take billions more to make it viable for standardized usage. There needed to be alternatives, ones that weren't twenty years old or obsolete - like the ARC-170 and Z-95 lines.
Not that it matters. I hadn't given much thought to what came next when we reached the Core, too busy with the problems at hand. I had always operated under the idea that my superiors made those decisions, but my faith had been shaken as of late - even before Tullius.
And the good Captain had turned a slave rebellion into an extinction level event, or else someone under him. Either way, the blame rested solely on the shoulders of the man in charge: Captain Tullius. Tullius would be doing everything in his power to avoid prosecution, little more than a quiet execution in a back alley to avoid the trouble. There would be questions about Endor and I knew better nowadays how that game was played.
Survivors could make the Empire look bad, especially if they stayed in more popular regions like the Core. My political sway would be nil as I was launched to some Outer Rim system patrol group or worse, Vensenor: where careers went to die.
"Commander Ree?" A modulated voice drew my attention as I wandered the halls. I turned to find a Stormtrooper approaching me: "Captain Tullius is requesting your presence at an officer's conference room. I am here to escort you."
Wilek Nereus
"What is this about, Captain?" I asked once the pleasantries were dispensed with, taking the seat next to the uniformed pilot woman - Ree, Tullius had called her. The Captain appeared as unflappable as ever; hands crossed over each other on the table as he considered us. Were it not for the Stormtroopers flanking him, I would have assumed he was completely at ease.
"Our good friends in Black Sword Command have been ordered to remain here at Metellos. I have been ordered to make way for the Kuat System - with orders from General Brashin to expedite the process." Tullius paused to tap the datapad that had been sitting on the table prior to my arrival, "However, before I even had time to submit my report, a new order has come from Imperial Center itself. The Admiralty Board itself wishes to speak with me, to give my report in person. With that in mind, I wish to extend my… request that you two accompany me to Imperial Center, to help corroborate my story."
And there it was. Tullius knew he was on the line and wanted to ensure those of sufficient rank that he could reach would be aligned with his story. If I wanted to assume Tullius was an idiot, then the Stormtroopers represented a physical threat - but an idiot would not have survived this long. No, the threat was in what he could say - the dirt he had on us. My part was obvious - collaboration with rebels, losing Bakura. Extenuating circumstances would be ignored in the face of political practicality - the Empire losing its Emperor followed by my largely unwilling cooperation could undo me. Commander Ree, I did not know - though I suspected she was not of Tullius's initial crew.
"You want us to lie to the Admiralty?" Ree asked, point blank. I winced internally, gauging Tullius's reaction. Of course, she was in a different world from us - pilots cared little for politics, especially at her rank and experience. Being so blunt rankled men like Tullius and I.
Admirably, he quickly corrected himself - seeming to misjudge Ree.
"Nothing of the sort." He hurriedly amended, or as hurriedly as Tullius could in any case: "I merely wish to represent as full a picture of the situation at N'zoth, Bakura and Wrath Station as possible to the Board. Governor Nereus was in charge of the Conqueror's communications during the battle alongside being present aboard the station during the beginning of the rebellion. You were engaged in every battle from Bakura until now. More than anyone else outside my crew, you two would be the most aware of what has occurred. You two are no longer under my authority when we reach Imperial Center; I merely wish to request that you accompany me to the capital."
I sensed an emphasis on the word, though it felt more directed toward me than Ree. Of course, my word would carry far more weight in the political arena on Imperial Center than Ree. Not bringing her would raise more questions than anything she could say about how Tullius acted; I saw his game now.
"Agreed." I said with a nod of my head. Tullius was right, he and I needed to get our story straight.
"Me, too. I will tell the Admiralty the truth and nothing else." Ree agreed.
"That's all I ask." Tullius spoke softly, before just as suddenly clapping his hands together and rising from his seat. It was like a switch had been flipped, "Capital. We set off in fifteen minutes - Colonel Maab has agreed to clear a space for us and our escorts."
Annoyance, it was the most emotion Tullius showed.
Tullius and I were filed into the cockpit of a shuttle - my shuttle - with the pilots and the navigation officer. Ree was in the back, seated alongside the cadre of bodyguards Tullius had opted to bring with him: Six well-armed Stormtroopers, he had managed to restrain himself. Unfortunately, the second shuttle shadowing us down to the planet's surface was loaded with more bodies. Tullius's paranoia - regardless of how well placed it might have been - would not make him popular on Imperial Center.
The ride had been quiet - Tullius was hidden behind his datapad, hurriedly putting together reports. Likely sensing their superior's black mood, the pilots and navigator remained silent as they brought us into the capital. We were forced to jump well outside the gravity well of the world, moving at sublight speeds for hours just to reach Imperial Center.
As a Core Worlder of some modern affluence, I had visited the capital before. There was a gravitas it held that most worlds, even others in the Core, lacked. The web of defences around the planet were rivaled only by planets like Kuat in their complexity and strength. Layered and tiered shields paired with a network of heavy orbital platforms and guns - all to deter the next General Grievous should he come to ravage the world again. Star Destroyers moved in packs, making up an independent fleet dedicated solely to the local system and its smaller satellite systems nearby. No Super Star Destroyers, though - a surprise. The Guardian, a twin to the Intimidator in all but name, had been present every time I entered the system.
We followed incoming traffic, many breaking off from the stream of ships early. Many more continued onward, undeterred as they passed the massive bulk of Imperial Star Destroyers. Eventually we broke off with some other vessels, moving toward the distant spires of the Senate District.
As a military shuttle, we should have been given priority. At the very least, we should have been moved out of civilian traffic and into a military control sector. However, after a short argument with the control tower the pilot turned in his seat to speak to Tullius.
"Captain, the local Control is directing us toward Customs. Foreign freight, near the Tralus District."
"What?" Tullius looked up from his datapad, briefly taken aback before frowning. He stood and leaned over the officer, pulling out his code cylinder.
"Uh… Control, this is Captain Rivejer Tullius of the Imperial Navy. We need to be rerouted toward a military landing zone."
Silence greeted his words, long enough that he glanced toward the pilot. The unspoken question received a nod, likely regarding the communications array. The pilot was saved from needing to answer by a new voice: one cold and brooking no argument.
"Recieved, Valiant. Maintain your current course and have personal documentation prepared." No explanation as to why, but I nodded my assent to the pilot all the same.
"Did anyone remember to bring their passport?" Tullius asked, his tone annoyed but joking. His words were greeted with light chuckling, but my hands tightened around my datapad - I had brought my credentials and I hoped that my presence among this group did not come back to hurt me.
The shuttle drifted toward one of the large customs agencies close to the old Senate District, though it was closer to a fortress in appearance. Large, quadbarreled laser cannons were arrayed on open platforms, pointed up toward the endless swarm of civilian craft above. Even at this distance, olive-armored Armytroopers - agents of the Customs Bureau - gathered at checkpoints and barricades.
Despite being an organisation often circumvented by travellers, the CCB took their jobs extremely seriously.
We settled on one of the landing pads on the first level, a civilian point of entry. The transports here were of a lower quality even to the standard troop transport shuttles. It was not the galaxy's best that came through a customs office directly, even this close to the heart of the Empire.
"Maintain a holding pattern with the second shuttle for as long as possible. If they try to chase you off, find a private pad and wait there until I contact you. You will be reimbursed." Tullius rattled off his orders to the pilot, hand on the man's shoulder.
"Should we wait for the second team to disembark?" The pilot asked, but Tullius shook his head.
"Marching a small army through Customs would be a bad idea. I'm starting to worry the men I've brought may be a bit much. I'll be in contact." Tullius clapped the man on his shoulder before rising. He turned and walked out of the cockpit without another word - to the crew or me. I followed him without speaking either, entering the former state room. The guards were already roused, though their blasters were slung over their shoulders rather than being brandished with intent to use them. I was of no illusion a team of Stormtroopers could not have their weapons out and raised in the time it would take me to unclasp my holster, but it was the illusion of calm.
"Let's get to it, then." Tullius said. The boarding ramp lowered with a hiss, letting the natural Coruscanti light filter in and chase away the artificial dim. As seemed to be customary, four Stormtroopers went down first to act as a vanguard for their charges. Tullius followed shortly behind, Ree and I at his shoulders.
We were not greeted at the landing pad, of course. A few curious Armytroopers watched on from the end of the pad, but they were overseeing all traffic, not just ours. It was an ostentatious presentation for no one, something Tullius seemed to realize as he stormed past the Stormtroopers with a muttered "Let's go."
The soldiers made no move to stop us, though some scurried aside to make room. Other travelers, largely made up of non-humans, were also quick to make room. Their looks were less ones of curiosity and more of fear. I wondered briefly why that might have been, before nearly laughing at the realization.
They thought we were here to make arrests. Why would three uniformed officers of the Imperial military - for they likely had no way to know I was a Governor - and a team of Stormtroopers be at a Customs office? I had to assume it was unheard of for military officials to even need to enter this building normally, little more than to present credentials.
The amusement was short-lived as we found ourselves in a waiting room before a series of lines. The cacophony of noise that greeted us was matched only by the smells of aliens, sweat, and stink - each serving to make my lip curl in disgust. I had served in the tightly packed halls of an old Dreadnaught-class Heavy Cruiser, but there was some level of order to that ship. The guards watched on from above, leaning on guardrails with little care for the occasional brawls that broke out below. It was a small mercy that no one made a move toward us and a pathway was quick to clear to the front of the line.
I remained glued to Tullius's side, mindful of my datapad despite the gap that separated me and the nearest organics.
An Ithorian stopped mid-scentence to scramble aside as Tullius approached, the young woman manning the station looking similarly alarmed.
"Captain Rivejer Tullius. I was ordered to present myself here." The absurdity of that statement seemed to make the woman freeze, as she simply stared at Tullius like he were speaking Huttese. Her gaze dimmed slightly, drifting from Tullius to me, to the Stormtroopers, then back to Tullius.
"I… See? Um… One moment, please…" The attendant raised a communicator to her ear and hurriedly spoke into it. She turned away, keeping her voice low. After a minute of silently waiting, she turned back - her beaming expression returning though appearing more forced.
"I apologize for the wait. Captain Tullius, you and your party can pass and move to the furthest station on your right. Thank you, and we apologize for the inconvenience."
We moved on, leaving the muttering crowd behind us to fight for the spots in line once more. A trickle reached a dozen stations behind the waiting room attendants, where actual security officers were processing them. We moved to the furthest on the right, where another human woman and a pair of black-armored guards awaited.
"Good afternoon, Mister Tullius. We welcome you to Imperial Center."
"Captain Tullius." He corrected. "What is the meaning of this? I am with the Imperial Navy, never have I been required to-"
"Unfortunately, it is part of our new regulations, Mister Tullius. There have also been some security concerns regarding the large number of guards you brought, including your second shuttle. This is completely above board, I hope you realize."
"I see." Tullius pulled a code cylinder from his beast pocket, inserting it into one of the ports at the station. There was a pause and then a long beep.
"Ah, unfortunately, we cannot confirm your identity, Mister Tullius. We will need to take you to a secondary room for biometric confirmation."
I blinked, immediately suspicious. This was clearly a set-up of some kind; in what galaxy could they not do a scan here at the station? Bakura had that for its customs office and that station was made up of prefab equipment. I glanced at Tullius, gauging his reaction. The man's lips were set into a thin line, eyes narrowed. The Stormtroopers, sensing the growing tension, began to reach for their blasters. The guards stiffened, the tension became so thick I was sure I'd drown in it. I looked to my left, at the nearest security station - gauging the steps I would need to reach it when blaster bolts started flying.
Then, surprisingly, Tullius accepted the demand.
"Very well. Let's make this quick."
The woman had never stopped smiling, merely bowing her head and stepping out of the station. From a door behind her, another attendant - a man this time - approached to take her place.
"Wonderful. This way, sir."
"This shouldn't take long, wait for me at the other end." Tullius said to the Stormtrooper officer. I was struggling to find what the logic was. Of course Tullius had seen the trap, but why was he falling for it, regardless of who set it?
Then it struck me, Tullius had rather directly told his guards that they should come back for him if he did not return in a short while - a team of Stormtroopers would not be easy foes for Customs security officers.
"Sir." The Stormtrooper grunted, throwing the blaster sling back over his shoulder. Tullius allowed himself to be walked off into the Customs center, and we were moved through the security station at far greater speed. They hadn't even asked for my passport, just accepting my code cylinder. Mere minutes later, we were outside the building - gathered awkwardly to one side of the pathway. People gave us a wide berth, but we paid them little mind.
Tullius did not reappear.
Captain Rivejer Tullius
What a waste of time.
The Customs office had a greatly inflated sense of self worth if they believed the Admiralty would accept this. Of course, I doubted anyone of real consequence was given this run around. Biometric scans? What a joke.
But, I would suffer the whims of these officials until I could find someone high enough to complain to - and then hope I never had to step foot on the Capitol again. The attendant stopped at a final doorway, turning to face me and gesturing inside.
"Through here, Mister Tullius."
"Captain Tullius." I corrected through grit teeth, a vague throbbing pounding in my skull as I passed her. I could not begin to guess why she was giving me such a hard time about my-
My train of thought slammed to a halt as I passed through the door. Two figures, one on either side, flanked the door. They were hiding against the wall, or I suspected as much. My right hand shot down to my hip, aiming to pull my holdout blaster free of its holster. A grip like durasteel closed around my wrist while the figure on my left kicked the back of my knee. It grit my teeth as I fell forward, landing on my knees as my right arm was twisted behind my back. Before I could even breathe, a weight slammed into my back and forced me onto the ground.
Wham!
My face hit the durasteel floor. I managed to turn my head and spare myself a broken nose - but it was a near thing. My head was spinning from the action, but I was cognizant enough to realize binders had been slapped over my wrists!
"Wha-" I spluttered, trying to roll over and throw my assailant off. They were too heavy and I was stuck flailing beneath them.
"Rivejer Tullius, you are under arrest for treason against the Galactic Empire and conspiracy with enemies of the Galactic Empire." A gruff voice snapped, the man kneeling on my back. I grit my teeth, fighting back the urge to correct him on my rank.
"I am with Arrowhead Command. Do you really think the Admiralty will let this lie?" I changed direction, loath though I was to use Harrsk's name as a stick to beat away my assailants.
"Arrowhead Command has been dissolved. Blitzer Harrsk is a traitor to the Empire. On. Your. Feet."
Rough hands grabbed my arms and yanked me to my feet, keeping me from stumbling back over. I barely had time to register what he said, anger getting the better of me.
"You have a lot of nerve, you Custom-"
The words died on my lips. Two men were standing in front of me, clearly having just entered the chamber with blasters drawn. These were no CCB enforcers or officials, nor were they military associates. White plastoid armor over black uniforms, more sleek and professional than their CompForce counterparts.
The Imperial Security Bureau.
I felt my heart plummet down to somewhere near the soles of my boots.
Oh.