Aaron Rysell sat in his office within the 37th Barracks, the assigned home to the crew of The Hound. His eyes were locked on his DataPad, which displayed the statistics of a young Cedric Oswell.
Top scores in every exam except the one managed by Senior Instructor Kaswell. And by sheer coincidence, his son scored third last in every exam—except the last, where he came first. Ain't that a surprise, Aaron thought. But in truth, it was no surprise at all.
"You were right, it seems, Petty Officer," Aaron said to the man standing before him—Chief Petty Officer Luca.
"You sell yourself short, Sir. We both knew it," Luca replied. Aaron chuckled and put his DataPad away.
"I suppose you're right. But it works in our favor anyway. Keep a special eye on him. Make sure he gets every opportunity to grow. The reason behind the rebels' recent wins is their fighters—if we get even a single ace gunner, we'll be that much stronger."
Luca nodded, thinking the same.
"Of course, sir. I'll keep a close eye on hi—"
His words were cut off by a sharp knock.
Both Aaron and Luca turned toward the door.
"Come in," Aaron said. Moments later, a Stormtrooper burst into the room, slightly panting but standing straight.
"Lieutenant Commander. It's the... captain," the Stormtrooper said carefully, adding drama for effect.
"What?" Aaron asked, but the Stormtrooper said nothing more. Instead, he motioned for the two officers to follow him toward the Main Imperial Base.
They entered the base and headed toward the prison, sensing what had happened. After a few minutes and being cleared to enter, it became clear: in one of the cells sat Captain Catcher.
"Lieutenant Commander!?" the Captain exclaimed, visibly relieved to see a familiar face.
Aaron opened the cell and stepped inside, the Stormtrooper guard closing the gate behind him. Aaron sighed as he turned to Catcher, who sat in armored pants and a black shirt, his helmet and chest armor removed.
"Well, Captain. Please explain the situation," Aaron said, sitting opposite him.
Catcher began explaining how he had gone to the cantina after practice with some of his men. Aaron had noticed early on that the Captain was a social man—a rarity among clones, who were often seen as cold or hesitant. Catcher, however, was different.
His friendliness earned criticism from some Stormtroopers nearby. Catcher had learned long ago to ignore it—nothing good came from arguing with the 'humans.'
But it wasn't Catcher who started the argument. It was a Stormtrooper from the 337th Company named Lux Daniul. What began as a dispute escalated into a full-scale confrontation, resulting in Catcher and his men fighting the other side.
Naturally, Military Police intervened. All seven of Catcher's men were arrested—none of the instigators were.
And surprise, surprise: the Stormtrooper who started the fight had a father in a high rank—a Commodore aboard an Imperial Star Destroyer.
"Hmm. I see. Let's get out of here," Aaron said. "Your punishment is up to your direct Commanding Officer. I'll handle the punishment on the ship. Understood?"
Catcher grinned and nodded.
"Wipe that grin off your face till we reach the ship. I doubt it'll be that easy," Aaron warned as he signaled the MP trooper guarding the cell to open the door.
They left the prison without much trouble, gathering their gear. But just as they were about to exit, they were confronted by the Commodore himself—Devron Dami—flanked by twenty Military Police troopers in red-accented armor.
"What do you think you're doing?" the Commodore demanded.
Aaron flinched but gave the standard salute.
"Commodore Devron Dami, I am transporting my men back to The Hound for punishment," Aaron replied—but they all knew it wouldn't be that simple. The MP troopers tightened their grip on their weapons, and Aaron's men mirrored the action.
"You may take the six troopers, but your clone will remain," Devron said arrogantly, expecting Aaron to comply.
"And may I ask why?" Aaron challenged.
"You may not! You will hand over the clone immediately, or I will hold you in contempt and have you court-martialed," Devron barked.
"I will do nothing until you properly explain your reasoning. Captain Catcher is part of the 337th Company, assigned to The Hound directly under my command. I have authority over minor punishments, and his charges—'assault without injury' and 'provocation'—fall under that category," Aaron stated firmly.
The Commodore's face twisted with anger and confusion.
Meanwhile, Captain Catcher watched, wide-eyed and impressed by his supervisor's nerve.
He's deliberately provoking a conflict with a commissioned officer four ranks above him, all for the sake of a single clone? This hasn't happened in years. Of the barely thousand clones still in service, none have been openly supported by their commanding officer, Catcher thought.
Back to the Commodore, a sudden idea seemed to strike him.
"However! Captain Catcher didn't commit a Class-C minor offense, but a Class-B by assaulting a commissioned officer," he declared, shocking Aaron and Catcher.
Aaron fixed Catcher with a hard stare, eyes narrowing.
Did this fool really not know the difference between an officer and enlisted? Aaron thought. Catcher shook his head—he hadn't assaulted any officer.
"Which officer? I don't remember an officer being involved," Aaron said sharply.
"Felix Dami. He was promoted to Second Lieutenant at the time," the Commodore said.
"Felix Dami is a Staff Sergeant, Commodore. Surely you know your son's rank," Aaron countered—he had checked the roster as soon as the situation came to light.
"He was promoted to Second Lieutenant before the assault; it hasn't been updated in the roster yet," Devron insisted. Aaron sighed deeply.
This fucking fool.
"Commodore Devron Dami, you just admitted your son participated in the scuffle. Even if he's a Second Lieutenant, he assaulted a Captain—a senior commissioned officer. That makes this a Class-A assault," Aaron said. The Commodore's expression worsened.
"And by Imperial Code, any Imperial related by direct blood to a Class-A criminal is stripped of rank, title, and authority. Therefore, I order you to stand down and leave the premises, Devron Dami," Aaron commanded.
Confusion rippled through both ranks.
"W-wait! N-no! T-that's not what I—he was just assaulted, he didn't assault!" Devron stammered, relief washing over him.
"Citizen Devron, if any Imperial shares direct blood with an accused Class-A suspect, they are temporarily stripped of rank, title, and authority," Aaron repeated calmly.
"Please leave the premises, civilian. You are trespassing," Aaron ordered, turning to the Military Police officers, who seemed unsure how to proceed.
"I ORDER YOU TO ARREST LIEUTENANT AARON! I AM A COMMODORE!" Devron shouted desperately, but his pleas were ignored.
The Military Police captain stepped forward.
"I'm afraid he's right, Commodore Devron. Until your son is cleared, you will not be permitted on Imperial territory," the captain said firmly.
Devron said nothing, looking at the ground as he was escorted away.
"Lieutenant Commander, I respect your actions," the captain said to Aaron. "But since Felix Dami is a commissioned officer, your man did assault a commissioned officer. We must take him into custody."
Aaron turned to Catcher, who nodded respectfully.
"I'll be fine. You've done more than enough, sir," Catcher said as he stepped forward.
"I'll see you soon, Captain," Aaron replied as Catcher was led away.
Turning back to his men, Aaron ordered, "Alright, return to the barracks. Remain there for the night."
The six troopers nodded.
"Very good. Let's head back."
Behind them, Luca watched the entire exchange, lost in thought. He was impressed.
He truly is something else—standing up to a Commodore for a single clone. And how is he so well-versed in Imperial law? Like he studied it at the Academy... I'll have to check that out.
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