A/N: Thanks again for everyone that has read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story! Special shout out to Shadir and Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo for the lovely reviews to the last chapter. They help in more ways than I can state. :)
As always, special thanks to m4x70r for the use of Nathon Tydon from the story "To No Avail." Please go and read it. It's wonderful. :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun!
With a flicker of pseudo-motion, the Executor jumped into hyperspace. On the bridge of the Peremptory, a silent collective sigh of relief seemed to permeate the air. The silence was short-lived, and it seemed that for the first time in days, the hum of bridge activity returned to normal levels. Many were unaware of it, this change in demeanor and activity, however Captain Kand knew very well the reason for the shift in activity level. When Darth Vader was on the deck, everyone from the lowest of Crewman to the ship's Captain moved only when necessary, spoke only when necessary.
And secretly wished not to be noticed by the Dark Lord of the Sith.
A pall had settled over his ship when the Lord Vader had first arrived, fear blanketing the normally stern atmosphere of his ship. Captain Kand wasn't one that did well with lax duties and lazy officers on a normal basis, and as such had garnered a reputation for being a severe task master on his ship. However, his normal whip-crack crew had taken that to higher levels during Darth Vader's inspection. So much so that he feared a few would break under the added strain.
No one had, thank the stars. And he made a mental note to put the ship into dock for "repairs" at the first opportunity. It would give his crew a much needed and deserved break for a week or so, a reward for performing above and beyond demanded levels.
"Transfers were completed without incident," Commander Friel announced from the station next to Kand. "One pr—one prisoner transferred to the Executor without incident, sir. We took on sixteen. Orders have arrived for standard interrogation."
He hadn't missed the slight hitch in his First Officer's voice, knowing that the prisoner transferred to the Executor was that blasted Tydon girl. Knowing that the girl was a like a sister to Friel did nothing to soften Kand's opinion of her. Thanks to that child, he had harbored an officer that was, for all intents and purposes if not by the letter of the law going rogue, had ISB sweep into his detention block and help themselves to all the data, crewers, and prisoners they wished without so much as a by-your-leave-captain, and Lord Vader, himself, terrifying his crew.
And then there was the return of the nightmares about Abigail, about how she cried for his aid when the Death Star burned. How her skin had crisped and fried from the fires before she felt every bit of liquid in her body turn to ice in the vacuum of space. The suffocation, the abject mental horror that such a death brought before her life ended… No, he would not shed a tear for that girl's fate, even if her name was now embedded in his heart. Out of respect for his First Officer, however, he would refrain from publically dance a jig at her execution.
Regardless of what anyone else had said, Renate Tydon was a rebel through and through in his mind. Like the ones that had destroyed the Death Star. Like the ones that had murdered Abigail…
"Very good," Kand said aloud, turning from his own station to read the orders for himself. "These prisoners, do we have any data on them?"
"Some, sir. Ten of the sixteen are known Rebels recently captured trying to enter the Candoras sector. The other six were picked up here and there in systems the Executor happened to be passing through."
Kand frowned. "There isn't much in the Candoras sector that would attract attention of anything save for spacers, pirates, smugglers and other unsavory types. It's far out in the Outer Rim territories, if memory serves, too far removed from the fighting to offer much for the Rebellion. Outside of the Poln system, I see no value to that section of space."
Friel nodded. "The Poln system was once heavy in the mining industry, but has sense gone dry of any useful material. Though beneath its surface, it's said to be a veritable maze of tunnels and warrens that span the entire planet. "
"Leftovers from the mining days, no doubt."
"Yes, sir."
"Still," Kand said thoughtfully, crossing his arms over his chest. "If the rebels were heading to the Poln system, it might be worth a look. Do you see any harm in our schedule if we swing by the system?"
"Interesting that you would suggest that, sir, as our orders are to do exactly that," Friel said, handing over a data pad.
"Really," Kand murmured, continuing to read over the information. His eyebrows rose by the time he reached the end. "Grand Admiral Thrawn requested our presence?"
"I read it to be more a request of whomever received the honor of interrogating those prisoners. He left instructions as how to contact him once we reach the system, if we have anything of interest to report."
Kand's lips twitched into a bit of a smile, a dry one. "When a Grand Admiral asks a Star Destroyer to head into a useless system with a payload full of prisoners, and then leaves instructions as to how to interrupt whatever he has going on, he expects us to do exactly that—with information, not if. Who is it that has taken Commander Gant's place when he is suspended?"
Friel grimaced, flipping through the order log. "Lieutenant Commander Sephoran Kittinger, sir, one of the new transfers from the Executor."
Kand instantly shook his head. "No, put Commander Gant back on this assignment. We are going to meet with a Grand Admiral. I don't believe for a second that Grand Admiral Thrawn is as 'out of favor' with His Majesty as the rumor mill seems to persist in stating. And I won't face a man in white with less than my best crew at my disposal."
Friel did more than grimace at that. He went white. "Sir, Commander Gant is no longer on the Peremptory. I do not expect him back until his discipline is complete."
"And just how long is that going to take, Commander?"
"Three weeks, sir."
Kand's eyebrows drew down dangerously. "Isn't it just fascinating that that is the exact amount of time Commander Tydon has left on his leave."
"Yes, sir."
"And I shouldn't find it odd in the slightest that Commander Gant was reported as having an altercation with the Lord Vader—while suspended, I might add—over the transfer of that thrice damned Prisoner Seven to the Executor?"
Friel had the decency to blanch—hard. "It is a remarkable coincidence, sir."
"And I am to assume that, as part of his punishment, Commander Gant was to escort Commander Tydon back to his ship." That wasn't a question, nor was the seething anger whispering through Kand's voice.
"I did see that as an accurate use of the Commander's time, yes. After the altercation with Lord Vader, I felt it prudent that Commander Gant remove himself from the ship at the first available opportunity. I was unaware that Commander Tydon's pilot had come down with a case of lung worms before we left to meet the Executor. His stay was prolonged until we left hyperspace and per your orders, I had him off your ship at the first opportunity."
"I am not happy with this, Luthar," Kand said bitterly, stepping up almost nose to nose with Friel. "I am going to assume, for your sake, that all of this is on record and above board. Otherwise, I will take personal satisfaction in having you demoted and incarcerated until I can figure out a suitable punishment for you. This better not splash back on this ship, or it will be your head rolling—not mine. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir. Everything is documented appropriately and per regulations."
"Then get us moving," he snapped. "We do not want to test the patience of a Grand Admiral."
"Yes, sir. Helm!" Friel called, heading down the command walkway just a touch too quickly. As if needing to put some distance between himself and the thunderstorm that was his Captain. "Set course for the Poln system, Candoras sector."
"Yes, sir," came the response.
"Good," Kand breathed, the anger slowly dissipating from his tone. "I hope this Kittinger is intimately familiar with the prisoners already. At standard speeds, we should reach the Poln system in a week. By that time, we had better have answers for the Admiral."
"They're gone," Gant said quietly, watching as the Peremptory made its jump to lightspeed. Beside him in the co-pilot's seat, Tydon shifted slightly. Evidence of his own discomfort with what they were about to do. "You sure you want to do this?"
"No," Tydon said bluntly, pinning Gant with unfriendly eyes. "But I don't have much of a choice."
"We, you mean," Gant replied with the same tone. "We don't have a choice."
"She's not your sister, Gant. It's not your career or your life on the line if you don't figure out what's so important about that house on Naboo."
Gant ground his teeth, punching in the coordinates for Tatooine into the nav computer of the shuttle. "I will beg to differ, Tydon. I'm tied to this just as much as you are now. Renet was my prisoner. I discovered what she knew. And I'm the last of my team that even knew she existed. She may not be my sister, but those men were mine. I don't know if they are alive or dead right now. So I think I have as much at stake in this as you."
Tydon fell silent at that, and Gant could feel the other's eyes on him, weighing and measuring. He pushed off the need to roll his shoulders under that scrutiny. He and Tydon may have shared the same rank, but there was a … heaviness to Tydon's stare that spoke of experience and trial under fire. Experience that separated their ranks as clearly as the gap between Ensign and Captain. Gant may carry similar authority now, but he was lightyears behind Tydon. And he knew it.
Apparently so did Tydon.
"Okay," the other said at last. "Okay, but you follow my lead, Gant. We make decisions together, but I have the final say."
"As long as we get answers, Tydon, I don't care who gets the glory for this."
Tydon's mouth twisted. "There isn't going to be any glory," he said, sounding tired all of a sudden. "Just answers. And perhaps an execution when I get my hands on that bastard that twisted Renet's mind. That will have to suffice instead of glory."
"Nathon," Gant put in, watching the other twist sharply in his seat at the use of his first name.
Allegedly, even during an unauthorized, covert, career-ending mission (if they were caught), they were still under the social stigma that prevented the use of first names. Gant's expression hardened. Kriff that. If they were going to possibly die together, they were going to use first bloody names.
"Nathon," Gant said again, putting emphasis on the name. "You need to prepare yourself for the answers to those questions. And the fact that Renet may truly be a rebel."
Tydon's face nearly turned to stone. "What makes you say that?"
"I was the one in charge of her interrogation," Gant said. "I tested her reactions, the truth in her words, and everything in between. She may have been seduced by Vrad Dodonna, but the seduction wasn't completely on his part. She believed a lot of what she was saying, and only when the reality that she was going to have to pay for her crimes sank in, did she show real remorse."
"And just what do you mean by that, Avery?" The other growled, the threat of violence brimming in the air.
"Just what I said," he countered evenly. "It's my professional opinion that if Renet Cal—Renate Tydon was released right now, she'd go back to the rebellion with open arms."
"Of course she would," Tydon shook his head, turning back to the control board. "After what happened to her at your hands, after what she suffered… It's not a small leap of logic to see that she would run right back to those that professed to love her."
Gant opened his mouth, stunned at the blatant denial in Tydon's words. While it was true that no one wanted to learn that their loved one was on the wrong side of the war, still this was a bit much. And unbecoming of an officer, if Gant would say so himself. Gant closed his mouth, took a deep breath. No, that statement had been unbecoming of him to say of Tydon. The man was obviously grieving, torn asunder by what his sister had done. Gant, himself, had fallen into that same emotional trap, going so far as to argue—argue!—with the Lord Vader of all people over her fate.
He reached a hand to his throat, suppressing a shiver. He could still feel that invisible vice-like grip, crushing the life out of him. Even when it was happening, he knew he was a damn fool for defending Renet. He knew it just as he was certain Tydon knew in his heart that his baby sister was filthy rebel. He just couldn't bring himself to say it out loud any more than Gant could have stopped the verbal vomit of words he'd spat at the Dark Lord.
Gant didn't like it, but he could understand Tydon's position.
"You could be right," he forced himself to say, knowing they both knew the truth. "There's a chance that she was wholly innocent in this."
"Which is why we have to get to Naboo," Tydon muttered, voice thick with pain. "We have to discover the truth."
"After Tatooine," Gant reminded him. "There's something going on there that we need to discover. It has to do with Renet and with what happened to my men. I just know it."
He watched Tydon struggle with that, battling the desire to clear his sister's name immediately with the logical steps that were needed to take to get to that point. In the end he nodded. "Fine. We can spend a week there—no more. So if you dig for answers, you better dig hard and fast."
Gant ground his teeth silently. Of course he would dig hard and fast. For the first time, he was thrilled that he had accepted the role of interrogator. All that training he had loathed so much was about to come in handy. And if it cleared Renet's name and helped him figure out just why his men were at the mercies of ISB? He'd never regret that decision again in his life.
"The course is laid in," Gant said, flicking a glance at Tydon. "Why don't you go into the back and get some sleep. We've got a two day trek ahead of us. Once we hit hyperspace, I can watch the controls."
He expected the other to argue, and was relieved when Tydon nodded once. Once the stars stretched to lines and the lines blurred into the marbled beauty of hyperspace, he left the cockpit without a word. Gant let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A man had a right to his privacy when it came to personal pain. And with Tydon in the rear of the shuttle, Gant was granted that same right in the front.
He closed his eyes, hand roughly tugging open the collar of his tunic. His fingers rubbed absently at his throat as he tried not to think about Renet in Lord Vader's hands. As he tried not to think—yet again—why the thought of that bothered him so much. He could tell Tydon all day long that his rancor in this fight was all about the crew that was taken from him. But to himself, he could admit—bitterly—that it was about an innocent girl that had come to represent what was going wrong with the Empire he loved so much.
