Wilek Nereus
Unfortunately for Tullius, his cadre of guards could not storm the CCB complex: especially when their agitation was answered by significantly more guards.
My part was done, the Stormtroopers gave the Commander and I scarcely more than a glance as they ran off - no doubt on some other mad scheme to save their Captain. I did not waste much time in theorizing what happened to Tullius, only that I doubted the Customs Bureau and its superiors were truly behind it.
The Customs officers eventually dispersed, once they were certain the Commander and I would make no move to demand the Captain's return either. I turned to face the woman, her perturbed expression no doubt mirrored on my face. Still, whatever the fate of Tullius I needed to ensure I did not share it.
"Commander." I said, offering my hand to the woman. I'd already forgotten her name.
"Governor." She returned, taking my hand and offering a firm shake. We moved together toward the civilian transport - breaking at the forked path. Her toward public transport, me toward the line of taxi air speeders.
I chose the first cab that did not completely offend my sensibilities, not out of a complete disdain for civilian transport but because it was the only one not covered in a layer of filth. I clambered in, opening my mouth to speak - only to nearly choke on how thick the air was. I'd become used to the processed air aboard the Conqueror and the Customs office was no different, but the sweltering heat appeared to be preferred to the driver. Pinkish skin warned me before she even had a chance to turn around, a Zeltron. The fuzziness rose in the back of my mind, but I clamped down on it just as quickly and focused on my breathing. Zeltron pheromones were child's play when one was prepared for them and I'd hunted beasts with stronger scents.
Like most of her species, the Zeltron was exceptionally attractive - a softer shape to her features than the exemplars of her species, but eye-catching all the same.
"Where to, sugar?" Her casual tone took me aback, considering I was still in uniform. I took it in stride all the same.
"Galactic Bank." I ordered. "Financial District."
"Mmm? Galactic Bank." The Zeltron woman asked before blowing a bubble from whatever candy she was chewing on. It popped as she turned to face forward, easily pulling the speeder out of her spot and joining the flow of traffic.
Unfortunately, my attempts to access my account with the Imperial Galactic Bank had been unsuccessful alongside the smaller accounts I had hidden away. Contacting them over communicator had been a dead end with requests that I go to the bank directly to figure the issue out.
A bumping techno music filled the cab, but I filtered it out - focusing on the city before me. The capital had always been a marvel of engineering, but after so many years away I felt a fondness growing in my heart. It's endless surface was so enthralling that I almost missed the low-flying TIE Fighters skittering through traffic. Military patrols were not unheard of on the surface, but I could scarcely find any direction to look that was not filled with starfighters.
"Is there a reason for the heavy military presence?"
"Hmm? Oh, you haven't been on-world for a bit, have you honey?" The Zeltron asked. I frowned at the affectation, but she continued: "The CSF was overrun during the riots, army types came in. Grounded us for a week straight just to clean up the mess."
"Riots?" I asked.
"The riots? After news of the Emperor's death came through? What rock have you been livin' under?" Again, before I could respond, she continued: "A bunch of people thought they could 'throw off the shackles of Imperial oppression' once old Palpatine was dead. CSF tried to stop them, but then a bunch of officers flipped so they sent in the Stormtroopers. CGs, CSF, ISB - they clamped down hard… Err, good on them, I mean. Rabble rousers, and all that?"
The woman sounded more uncertain, betraying that she had not interacted too often with Imperial officials all too often as she glanced back at me through the mirror. I did not mention it, learning my head back and closing my eyes. Much had happened in my extended disconnection from the greater Galaxy, but even that could not be fully blamed on Tullius and his adventures. Bakura was in the middle of nowhere; it took weeks if not months for news to reach that world. It stood to reason that the galaxy didn't just freeze because I wasn't there to observe it.
The rest of the trek passed in silence, or as silent as the music allowed in any case. We pulled toward the massive structure of the IGB, dozens of landing pads arrayed before its front steps. Guards were stationed all the way up to the top, though I realized immediately they were not standard bank security. Red-and-white plastoid armor betrayed them to be Coruscant Guard - the riots had to have been months ago, was security still that tight?
I turned my datapad on and quickly sent the payment the driver quoted, getting out without seeing the payment being confirmed. Despite the relative cleanliness of the cab, I still felt the urge to pat down my trousers for any filth that might have stuck to me. I hadn't gotten more than two paces when a voice - high and furious - called back to me.
"Hey! What's the big deal? Fare's 75 credits." The Zeltron woman had rolled down her window and was glaring up at me from her seat. I blinked, taken off-guard by her tone.
"What?"
"Fare? Y'know, paying to use a cab?" She demanded, becoming more agitated by the second. I stared blankly at her for a beat before looking back down at the datapad in my hands. A red warning flashed across its screen, telling me the payment had not gone through. Not that the account was empty, only that the bank had refused it. I was dumbfounded for a few moments longer before the woman began to get more aggressive.
A part of me wanted to call over the guards to teach this cabby a lesson for yelling at an Imperial official in such a manner, but another was supremely embarrassed about this whole situation. I had been living on the charity of Captain Tullius for months and now I couldn't even pay a taxi fare?
I dug into the inner pocket of my uniform, finding a few loose credits inside and dropping them into her outstretched hand. I waited for my change - I had handed her more than the fare - only to watch as she sped off without another word.
Of course.
In the series of unfortunate events that led me to this moment, being fleeced by a taxi driver was perhaps the least of my misfortune. Still, it left me fuming internally. I successfully fought off the need to sigh and spun on my heel, marching up to the entrance of the bank.
If the riots reached this building, its interior certainly did not betray that fact. Ornate statues lined the walkway to the front counters - serving as both a waiting room and brazen display of wealth. The CG had not been sent to guard the interior, which remained in the hands of well-dressed security guards. Though most carried heavier weapons than I suspected they would usually.
I was greeted at the counter by a young human woman who was all smiles, speaking with a sweet and professional voice.
"Good afternoon, and welcome to the First Imperial Galactic Bank of Imperial Center. How can we help you today?"
"I am unable to access my account. It was requested that I come to the bank directly to clear up the issue." I said, reaching for the code cylinder on my chest before she had a chance to ask for it. I slotted it into the console on my side of the desk, letting the device scan my thumb after inputting my access codes. There was a moment of hesitation as the woman read her screen. Her brilliant smile dropped momentarily before returning with that same brightness.
"My apologies, sir. It appears there is some issue with our equipment today. Could you please try again?" I obliged her, pulling the cylinder out and - after making sure it was the same cylinder associated with that specific account - inserting it back in. Again, the issue remained.
"Our apologies, sir. Could I get your name, account number and verbal access password?"
My annoyance was growing but I continued to oblige the woman, hoping that this situation would be cleared up.
"Wilek Nereus, that's Nern-Esk-Resh-Esk-Usk-Senth. My account number is…" And on it went. Finally, this allowed us to move forward. Unfortunately, from the stricken expression on the woman's face, that direction was not one I would like. I was taken by a bank employee to a side room, where a pair of well-dressed and perturbed looking officials waited.
An hour later - a shouting match with the assistant manager and a stern order to leave the building behind me - I was seated on the front steps of the bank.
The mystery of my inaccessible account was resolved… because it no longer existed. By order of the Grand Vizier of the Empire, inactive accounts and those belonging to presumably dead Imperials above a certain monetary threshold were seized "for the continued service of the Empire". My account was not inactive and I certainly wasn't dead, but it seemed the Galactic Bank had a more expansive definition of 'activity'.
I broke my usual decorum to run a hand through the mess my hair had become, stuck now planning my next steps. Unfortunately, the Bank had also tracked down my alternate and secondary accounts; seizing those as well. I was of no illusion that the Bank itself had not always known about them, but their complete loss was a compounding blow. Pairing that with whatever I had in the local Bakuran banks meant my financial situation was looking dire.
From Governor to pauper.
Desperation colored my perspective now, but there could still be hope. Despite my absence in the Core, I was not without my connections: Some fellow Governors and Navy comrades could be on Imperial Center. It couldn't hurt to check.
I patted my pockets, finding a few more credits on my person. With a hurried energy to my step I made my way back down to the edge of the platform, but not yet to a Taxi. A public HoloNet access booth allowed me to quickly search through my old contacts.
As luck would have it, some still resided on old Coruscant.
Commander Ciena Ree
"Welcome to [IMPERIAL CENTER COMMUNICATIONS]. How may we direct your call today?"
I sat in the cramped booth, belt and holster resting over my lap. Before me was a console, one of countless billions scattered across the planet. It was a cheap civilian machine, but I hadn't felt comfortable using a military terminal. Not after Tullius vanished, likely having been arrested. I shook thoughts of his fate from my head: he had been one of the less egregious officers I served under but it would not do to ponder.
Jelucan, Kwymar Sector. I typed into the relevant fields, followed by: Paron Ree.
I gave our old house access code. The machine hummed as it began to process the information. The battered old console was slow, but my leg still nervously bounced. I'd not contacted home in months, even before the Battle of Endor. With the Empire's defeat - and the apparent breaking of the news - I feared my family might believe I was dead. I hadn't taken the chance to check my status on the official registry, something I was kicking myself over now.
"[JELUCAN] found. [REE HOUSEHOLD] found. Local time is [0311 IC]. Would you still like to connect?"
A keystroke confirmed the request, despite the early morning hour. A soft chime began to play as the console tried to connect, bouncing the request off countless relays over the galaxy. Seconds stretched into minutes with no response, and so my heart raced faster. Finally, a chime, then the screen read 'connected'. Unfortunately, video call would be shaky at best in the Core; connecting to an Outer Rim world was a tall order to begin with.
"Hello? Who is this?" The relief that filled my heart at that voice nearly made me collapse on the spot. I licked my dry lips, suddenly unsure what to say.
"Dad?" Was what I opted for. My voice was shaky. Despite our issues, despite our disagreements over my mother, just hearing his voice was a balm for my nerves. Weeks of constant fighting, never knowing what the next day might bring.
"Ciena?" My father was just as breathless, "Is that… You're…"
The man was stumbling over his words in a way I had not heard since my mother was arrested. It was always difficult to hear a man who was as unflappable in my youth has him seem all the more human as I aged. I swallowed thickly, fighting back my own tears as my father tried to find his words.
"When I… The Census Bureau reported you were killed in action." His voice broke then, the few choked sobs from the other end pushing me over the edge. I raised a hand and used the sleeve of my uniform to dab at my eyes, sniffing. "Oh, Ciena… I thought I lost you, too."
"It's okay, Dad." I was quick to allay his fears, "I made it. It was touch-and-go at first, but I made it to the Core."
He offered a muttered prayer, to what god I did not know. Whatever was in that prayer calmed him somewhat, as next he spoke his voice was more level.
"What happened? Can you talk about it?"
I opened my mouth to respond before pausing. There hadn't been a debrief about the last couple of months, beyond meetings on the Conqueror itself. No one had bothered to approach me since Tullius went missing.
"I'm not sure…" I said slowly. "I think I can cover the salient points?"
So I did. I ran through everything that happened since Endor, without giving names or specifics. Oddly enough, without giving names the story felt more believable. Fighting a nebulous fleet at Bakura was more believable than alien invaders, as the largest example. Eventually though, I found myself moving toward the biggest question left on my mind.
"Have you talked to Mom?" I asked tentatively, dancing around the question. It had been a point of contention and many heartfelt moments last we met in person and my Father's silence spoke volumes.
"... I was able to speak to her. She seems to be… doing well. Enough. Well enough. She asked after you, but that was before… Well, she never knew you were missing."
My Mother had been arrested a couple years prior for embezzlement, a crime I knew she was innocent of. Unfortunately, my father's faith in Imperial justice and my continued loyalty to the Empire meant pursuing that angle had been all but impossible. In my currently embittered state, my loyalty to the process felt far less stable. Unfortunately, I was in no position to help my mother; trapped on Imperial Center without any friends nearby. So, I focused on the other part of what my Father said.
"You didn't tell her?" I asked, alarmed.
"I couldn't." The man's voice was sharp before going lower, "There's something happening here, Ciena. Something big. The Governor was executed last month, declared a traitor. The new Governor…"
My Father stopped to sigh.
"Nevermind. Just… stay safe, Ciena."
"Wait, Dad, you can't just-" I started, but he was quick to cut me off.
"Not now, Ciena. Not here. Will you get a chance to visit?"
"I don't-" I let out a sigh of my own, shaking my head, "... I don't know. There's a lot of uncertainty on Imperial Center right now."
"Is it tied to the parts you weren't telling me?"
Smartly, I kept my mouth shut. My Father offered a chuckle.
"Just keep me posted, Ciena. We can talk later."
"Okay, Dad. Talk to you later."
The call ended, there was little more that could be said. I wanted nothing more than to go back to Jelucan. To do what I could not say, but just the chance to see my Father and maybe my Mother was a tempting prospect. Unfortunately, my words to my Father were true: I had no idea what my status was at the moment. I hadn't been arrested, but I feared that would change the moment I stepped off Imperial Center. With an exhausted sigh, I stepped out of the booth. Another patron nearly slammed into me in his haste to get inside the booth, though he seemed more hesitant once he saw my uniform. I paid him no mind, stepped away from the booth and moved toward the door of the building. Two men stepped in the way - civilian clothing, but I was immediately put on edge by the sight of them.
"Commander Ciena Ree?" The left man asked, tall and thickly built despite the heavy coat he wore.
"Can I help you?" I asked, stopping mid step. Both men raised their hands, revealing badges with the Imperial Starfleet roundel on their faces.
"I'm Agent Greevey, this is Agent Harris. Fleet Intelligence." The man lowered his badge and stuffed it into the pocket of his coat. "We have some questions for you."
"Am I under arrest?"
"Not at this time." The second man, Harris, said. "However, Rivejer Tullius failed to report for his debriefing. He was seen arriving on Imperial Center with you. Maybe you can help us connect some dots down at the headquarters?"
Wilek Nereus
"Welcome to 820 Sciya Apartments. Please enjoy your stay." An automated voice intoned as I entered the front entrance, a kindly welcome to an otherwise cozy affair. The was far from 500 Republica, though still a surface building. Sciya Apartments were a set of retirement condominiums, the building funded by the Imperial Veterans Association. It was not so much low income housing as it was state funded, a propaganda piece funded by COMPNOR.
Of course, most of the officers here were from before the Clone Wars, before they could make it rich through the boundless corruption endemic in the Imperial Navy. Ordinarily I would not have stepped foot in this complex, but the last few hours had proved to me that my pickings were slim indeed.
What few old comrades and allies I had on-world were disinterested in helping me, doubly so when they realized I had lost Bakura. To rebels or aliens, it mattered little - I survived when my planet fell, that made me a pariah. If not in their eyes, than the eyes of their superiors who they wanted to keep happy.
This was my last stop, the last hope of support. I had scarcely any hope that this man would be helpful in reclaiming my liquid assets, but he could at least vouch for me so I could find work on Imperial Center.
Admiral Barton Coburn. A service droid was directed to lead me up to the apartment of the retired officer, and soon I found myself face-to-face with my old superior for the first time in nearly a decade.
"Wilek Nereus." Coburn grunted, "I never thought I would live to see the day you darkened my doorstep."
If Barton Coburn was retired, he did not look the part. He wore a grey uniform, his old rank plaque still attached to his chest even if the code cylinders were missing. His greying hair had been shaved off wholesale and his face was more wrinkled than I remembered, but the man seemed as sharp as ever. Coburn had started his career in the Kuati Sector Forces before joining the Republic Navy during the war, though that had been before I served under him. I joined his fleet after the war and left before he retired.
My relationship with the Admiral could best be described as combative - I was an opinionated young man back then; there was a reason my career ended up with me on Bakura.
"I would not have made the trip if I did not need to." I answered honestly, stepping through the door as Coburn turned and wandered back in. Despite being a government funded construction, the apartment was tastefully decorated but it was far from the home of a wealthy man. I knew Coburn had money hidden away, so I suspected remaining here was more his personal preference than a lack of means.
"Yes, yes. What was it again, Bakura?" Without waiting for a response, Coburn continued; "The Fleet wiped out at Endor? If this were twenty years ago…"
Coburn led me to his living room, sitting heavily on a recliner while waving a hand to the other. I joined him, staring at the fake crackling fire.
"Retirement has not made me a more patient man, Nereus. Speak your mind."
"My assets were seized by the Galactic Bank. I need some help in getting them back." Coburn hummed to himself, leaning back in his plush seat as I spoke. When I finished, he did not speak for a time. Thin, boney fingers drummed on the chair's armrest.
"I assume this is not you looking for a loan?" Coburn asked before continuing, "I am afraid you will not find much help on Imperial Center nowadays. The banks are operating under orders of our Interim Emperor and they are not eager to give back what they take."
"I suspected as much." I agreed.
"Have you checked with the Navy banks?" Coburn asked. The Imperial Starfleet operated its own line of banking unions, used by former and current members of the Navy. There were a large number of restrictions on how much money can be held or moved around the accounts, but it was safe from everyone but the Navy itself.
"Not a lot saved there. Enough to keep the account open and keep me afloat."
"Have you considered going back to the Navy?" Coburn asked, earning an undignified snort from me.
"I have fewer friends there than I do the Governors, Admiral."
"Do not be so certain." Coburn said, wagging a finger. He let his hand drop as he continued, "I have had some calls to come back out of retirement, as have many other occupants of this complex. Some have even taken the offers. The Empire was having officer shortages a decade ago… it is far worse now."
I frowned deeply at this news. The idea of returning to the Navy irked me and not just because of my unceremonious departure years prior. I was not too proud to admit I had become accustomed to the nicer life a Governorship offered, even one as backwater as Bakura. Returning to the humm-drum of Navy life felt insulting after my years of work on that world; just staying in a cramped officer's cabin on the Conqueror was enough of a reminder for me. However, I scarcely had any better options - at least none I could see.
I left not too soon after that. Coburn and I had little to talk about and the less I connected myself to Tullius the better. I made to leave the complex when a pair of men, plain clothes agents of one organisation or another, stopped me in the lobby.
"Wilek Nereus? We are with Naval Intelligence. We have a few questions for you regarding Rivejer Tullius."
Agent Rik Cardon
The evening sun was always a beautiful sight on Imperial Center, with how it cut through the towering spires of the city planet. I watched the silhouettes of passing airspeeders as they endlessly travelled this way and that, always busy.
Unfortunately, I was not given much time to enjoy the sights as I hurriedly double and triple checked the report I was writing. I had already submitted the initial one when the fleet first arrived at Metellos, but with the disappearance of Tullius I found the need to quickly amend some parts of it. Not only was this a gross miscarriage of Imperial justice - assuming he was arrested - but it was also the loss of my meal ticket. I had been in career limbo for a decade, starved for any sort of job progression. I would not let this chance slip between my fingers because of some overzealous ISB stooge or Customs flunky.
"CompForce headquarters." The shuttle pilot announced, swinging the craft around to face the foreboding structure. While a more subtle affair than the ISB, Imperial Intelligence, or COMPNOR headquarters, CompForce made a solid showing of its power. Spires shot upward like thin fingers, surrounding and overseeing the boxy structure of the main base. A well-defended compound surrounded the structure, layered with both automated and manned weapons.
"Good. Follow their directions, then you may return to the others." I ordered, rising from my seat and leaving the cockpit. Neither the pilot nor his partner said a word at my flight. The rear section was devoid of life, the Stormtroopers having disembarked at the rented landing platform where the rest of Tullius's guards remained. I had wondered at first why Tullius had placed me separate from himself, on the second shuttle.
In hindsight, that was a foolish question. Clearly, he suspected someone on Imperial Center would not want him to make his reports to the Admiralty. As always, I felt blame lie on the shoulders of the ISB - but any one of the intelligence swine could be behind this. If COMPNOR did not want to rein in its dogs, then it became the duty of CompForce to ensure this tragedy was corrected.
I departed the shuttle and quickly made my way through the layers of defenses, beelining for the main structure. My rank and access codes allowed me rapid access, but even then I was constantly delayed. CompForce was a paranoid organisation at the best of times, but it seemed they had opted to create a third arm in my absence: Bureaucracy. Every step was inspected by a uniformed busybody, asking the same dozen questions. Who was I, why was I here, where had I been, who sent me. Paranoia gripped CompForce like a plague, or a paranoia even worse than our usual. Eventually, I reached the office of my direct superior - one Olan Fellik. A ranking member of CompForce's assault wing.
"Enter." A voice droned when I knocked on the door. I stepped inside, finding a man in a black uniform sitting behind his desk. He was stooped over a console, tapping away at its keyboard without looking up at me as I approached.
"Special Agent Rik Cardon, Assault Group." I said, snapping my heels together. Fellik did not speak for a time, clearly distracted. Only after two whole minutes passed did he finally finish whatever it was he was writing to look up at me. He was haggard; eyes sunken into his skull and his skin a pale pallor. Still, there was a furious intensity in his eyes that reminded all who saw the man that he once wore CompForce armor.
"Agent Cardon. N'zoth garrison. I would ask why you are in my office, but the reports I have received tell me the situation has devolved far out of our control. I assume I have your report, Agent?"
"You do, sir."
"Then why are you in my office?" I turned my datapad on, tapping on its screen before turning it around for Fellik to see. The officer narrowed his eyes before taking the datapad from me. As he read, I spoke.
"Captain Rivejer Tullius, Arrowhead Command."
"Arrowhead Command was dissolved two months ago, so that would be formerly Arrowhead Command. Likely formerly Captain as well. Relevance?"
"Captain Tullius showcased extreme courage and dedication to the Empire during the N'zoth rebellion. He also granted me the means to strike a devastating blow to the local slave species."
"Ah, so a regular hero. Him and a million others, Agent." Fellik snapped, setting the datapad back down and turning his glare back to me. "Why are you bothering me about this one?"
"Captain Tullius was also at Endor: He saved Grand Admiral Teshik during the battle."
"Saved Teshik?" Fellik repeated, "He claimed this?"
"His officers corroborated." I said, shrugging lightly. "I assume Teshik made it back to the Core? Has he made any mention of what happened at Endor?"
Fellik paused, drumming his fingers on the desk for a moment. The haggard exhaustion seemed to vanish in a flash and soon the man was tapping at his console. He repeated the name: "Tullius, Tullius, Tullius".
"Here he is. Teshik referenced working with a 'Captain Tullius'; that the pair of them evacuated from the battle." Fellik said finally, leaning back in his chair. "Interesting. Was there anything else?"
"The Captain was also present at Bakura, where he fought against an invading alien species. He also fought against self-described traitors to the Empire - one Grand Moff Randd."
"Interesting… Very interesting." Fellik murmured, now appearing far more interested. I smirked - the man clearly saw the propaganda angle the same as I did. I had already taken the liberty of drafting a few pieces that would paint Tullius in an even better light - while subtly including myself in the events surrounding N'zoth.
"Sir, I think-"
"Leave the thinking to Observ, Agent." Fellik snapped, "You'll get your accolades. Now, from the start: Tell me about everyone and everything involved in this little story, from Endor until now."